#mikes not there but you can be sure hes screaming and crying and all the things i need to see in s5 over will | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hauntedhowlett-writes · 9 months ago

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HAND IN UNLOVABLE HAND

PAIRING: THOMAS HEWITT X FEMALE READER

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+ MDNI) | WORD COUNT: 5.8K

SUMMARY | This new man, the tall man with the icy somber eyes and expressionless mask, appeared above you, haloed in sunlight like an angel. By all accounts, he was a far more terrifying man than John or Mike or David, but you don’t see evil when you look at him, when his eyes meet yours for a brief second before looking away. No, not evil, but a familiar reflection, an unkind life that led to unkind circumstances and unkind decisions. You know the look well, it’s the same one you see in the mirror.

WARNINGS | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT; DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT - this is slasher fan fiction with canon typical violence, mentions of blood, death, cannibalism and gore. if slasher fiction is not your cup of tea, please keep scrolling.

EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT: vaginal fingering, male masturbation, oral sex - f receiving, unprotected p in v, size kink, choking, creampie, praise kink

OTHER WARNINGS: no use of y/n, dual pov, able bodied reader, reader being picked up/carried, virgin thomas hewitt, no skin masks, monsters in love. if i’ve missed any tags, please kindly let me know.

Thomas hears a scream while he’s out in the barn. It cuts off so quickly he damn near thinks he imagined it but if he holds perfectly still and listens, listens, listens, there are noises that don’t belong. A grunt, a smack, a mumbled curse. Knife in hand, he ventures out in search of the source.

Out on the road there’s a car, hood up and smoke billowing from the engine. A man has a woman pressed to the driver’s side door, forearm tight against her throat and a knife poised in front of her face. Red creeps into Thomas’ vision and his fingers begin to ache around the hilt of his own knife but just as he steps forward, something amazing happens.

The woman spits at the man’s face and in that brief moment of surprise, she brings her hands up and shoves the man back. He stumbles, falling to ground. The knife falls and she goes after it, lunging across the dirt and rocks. The man wraps a hand around her ankle, tugging her down and dragging her back as she screams, fingers digging into the dirt. She kicks, once, twice, the third time finally connecting with a painful crack to the man’s shin and sending him down to the ground again. She crawls away, grabbing the knife and scrambling to her feet. Thomas can see her chest heave with ragged breaths, skin glistening with sweat in the Texas heat.

He’s not sure he’s ever seen anything more beautiful.

She approaches the man, the knife brandished in front of her. The man rolls onto his back, holds his hands up. A surrender. The woman doesn’t care. Her boot slams into his skull, a shout echoing in the vast emptiness of the road and fields. Thomas feels himself grow hard, pants tightening around his cock. He reaches down, adjusting himself.

The man is on his hands and knees now. Blood streaks his face and drips to the dirt, baptizing the land in violence. She kicks him between the shoulder blades, knocking him flat on his stomach, and stands over him with a leg on either side of his body. The breath catches in Thomas’ throat as she reaches down and tangles her fingers in the man’s hair, lifting his head. The man stares directly at Thomas and his lips move, a cry for help, but he doesn’t hear it. No, not when all his focus is on the way the woman leans close and drags the blade across the man’s neck and the skin splits, muscles and tendons ripping with the force of it and red, red, red spilling free.

The man’s gaze grows empty and the woman loosens her grip, his head dropping to the ground. She drops to her knees, slams the knife into the man’s back over and over and over, roaring fiercely as she does. She’s covered in the red, red, red, clothes soaked through with it, skin stained and sticky. When she’s finished, she collapses on the ground beside the man, on her back, basking in the sun.

It’s then that Thomas approaches, his shadow falling over her, broad body blocking the sun. She blinks at him but doesn’t scream. Doesn’t run.

Thomas holds a hand out to her.

To his surprise, she takes it.

Your mind is somewhere in the clouds as you walk beside the lumbering giant that carries John or Mike or David over his shoulder like he weighs nothing, is nothing. The body bounces with each step and you find it almost comical, lips twitching as you fight a smile. Something simmers in your veins, more potent than the adrenaline of the fight or the relief that you won another day against life’s shitty hand.

This new man, the tall man with the icy somber eyes and expressionless mask, appeared above you, haloed in sunlight like an angel. By all accounts, he was a far more terrifying man than John or Mike or David, but you don’t see evil when you look at him, when his eyes meet yours for a brief second before looking away. No, not evil, but a familiar reflection, an unkind life that led to unkind circumstances and unkind decisions. You know the look well, it’s the same one you see in the mirror.

A house appears on the horizon, a two story Victorian era farmhouse that must have been impressive once before falling into a state of disrepair. There’s a woman on the porch, arms crossed over her chest and a stern look on her face as she watches the two (or is it technically three?) of you approach.

“Bring ‘im downstairs. I’ll tend to the girl,” she says. The man looks at you, hesitating to follow the command. You give him a nod, the slight dip of your chin enough for his shoulders to relax. His heavy footsteps rattle the dilapidated porch as he disappears inside the house.

The woman leads you to the kitchen and pulls a chair out from the rough wood table for you to take a seat. You watch as she wets a cloth before returning to your side. Cool water hits the hot skin of your face and the rough fabric drags away the dried blood. Her touch is surprisingly gentle.

“You do all that to the fella my boy was carryin’?” She asks.

“Yes,” you reply, voice cracking on the single word that claws at your vocal cords.

“‘Atta girl.” She smiles. “I’ll get you some water.”

“Thank you.”

She sets a glass on the table and you don’t hesitate to reach for it, chugging down the cold water so quickly it makes your stomach turn. She wordlessly refills it for you, twice, before murmuring a gentle, “That’s enough now, you’ll turn your stomach sour if you keep it up.”

“What’s with this fuckin’ car out on the road?” A voice yells from outside the house. Through the window you catch a glimpse of a man in a Sherriff’s uniform, shotgun held loosely in his hand as he approaches the house. The woman stands, wiping her hands on her apron.

“You don’t say nothin’, alright? You let me handle Charlie,” she commands. You nod.

The man appears in the doorway, eyes immediately landing on you. His leery gaze traces you from head to toe and you fight back the shiver that threatens to race down your spine. Your gaze drops to the floor as he addresses the woman.

“What’s with the whore?” He spits.

“She’s a guest.”

“A guest? This a bed ‘n breakfast all of a sudden?”

“Thomas brought her up here.” As if summoned by his name, the monster returns. He looms behind the other man, silent. There’s a bucket in his hand that he drops to the floor with a loud clang that makes you jump. The woman pats your shoulder.

“Tommy boy is takin’ in strays now, huh? What’s next, he’ll find himself some dumpster baby and finish buildin’ a whole happy family?”

The monster, Thomas, grows tense. His shoulders lift and the muscles of his arms flex, his eyes narrowed on the man who’s giving him a shit-eating smile.

“Tommy, honey, why don’t you bring your guest to one of the rooms upstairs?” The woman suggests. Thomas shoves past Charlie and into the kitchen and stands wordlessly by your side. She nudges your shoulder and you stand, following him as he stomps through the second door to the kitchen.

Shouting starts up as you leave, the words muffled when the door swings shut behind you. Thomas leads you upstairs to the second floor, where the hallway dark and a thick layer of dust coats anything it can reach. With a grunt he opens a door at the end of the hall and stands aside to allow you through the doorway.

The room is bare save for a small but tidy bed and dresser. Despite the dust in the hall, the room itself is surprisingly clean. You sit on the bed, testing the squeaky springs with your weight. You look up at the man.

“Your name is Thomas?” You ask. He nods, once, a sharp dip of his chin that has his dirty hair falling into his face. You tell him your name and his blue eyes blink back at you, the only acknowledgment you’ll get.

He lingers for a moment, eyes searching. It doesn’t feel gross, not like when Charlie leered at you downstairs. No, it’s more like he’s committing you to memory. You realize, then, that he’s not looking at you like a predator looks at prey.

He’s looking at you like you’re a prize.

Thomas slams the cleaver down, the thud of it rhythmic, soothing. His thoughts keep straying to ones of you, upstairs in the kitchen with his mama. You’ve been here for two days now and he’s having a hard time concentrating on his chores knowing that you’re in the house, knowing that you’ve stuck around for God only knows what reason. It makes him antsy, suspicious.

The door to the basement opens and he expects to hear Charlie’s boots stomping down the stairs but he’s surprised when you appear on the last step in an ill fitting dress that mama must have scrounged up for you. Thomas stands perfectly still as you look around the room.

“This is what you do all day?” You ask. He nods. “That must be hard work.” Mama shouts your name from upstairs, making you jump. You give him a sheepish look. “I’m supposed to come tell you dinner’s ready.”

Thomas grunts, setting down the cleaver and wiping his hands on his apron. He washes up in the bloodstained sink, scrubbing at his fingers as best he can. You’re still on the stairs when he finishes, watching him. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up, the way you don’t look away, ashamed of your staring.

You turn to climb the steps and he follows, a step below you. Your hips sway in front of him and he has visions of grabbing you by the hips, pulling you against his body so tightly you can’t leave, can’t leave, can’t leave.

Mama is sitting at the table when you both emerge from the darkness, bowls of stew set out for each of you. Thomas sits down to mama’s left and you to her right, across the table from him. The two of you chat about the chores she’s assigned you and are they too much, honey? No, you tell her, you’re happy to help. Mama smiles at you and he knows what she’s thinking, that you’re sent from God himself, the perfect addition to the family. The daughter she never got to have, only the fucked up sons she was cursed and forsaken with.

Thomas feels something prod his knee beneath the table and he freezes. All of your attention is still focused on mama, your head propped in your hand and your elbow on the table, relaxed as can be. He thinks maybe he just imagined it but he feels it again and this time he jumps, rattling the dishes on the table and sloshing stew from its bowls.

“Thomas! What’s the matter with you?” Mama asks, patting at her dress with a napkin. “You just got us all wet.”

“Yeah, Thomas,” you chime in. “Got me all wet and messy.”

By the look on your face, he knows that you’re not talking about the soup. He’s got some dirty magazines he snuck into the house over the years, women with their legs spread and their hands tied, glistening pussies on full display or the one videotape that Charlie got him, where the woman is split open on a man’s cock, begging for more as the lewd, slick sounds of sex grow louder and louder. The thought of you like that, maybe even because of him, makes his cheeks burn. He grunts, an apology, and his mama waves a hand at you both.

“You better get changed outta that dress before it stains. Can’t be lettin’ one go to waste so quick,” she tells you. You nod, standing from the table and heading for the door. You pause, looking over your shoulder at him and give him a wink. Mama clears her throat, a stern expression on her face as she looks at him.

“And you, boy. Go get yourself cleaned up and brush your damn hair for once. I raised you better than that.”

She didn’t, not really, but he listens to her anyway, trudging back down to the basement to hose himself off and change his clothes. As he cleans up, he thinks about you, because when hasn’t he been since you appeared? His cock hardens and he tries to ignore it, tries to think of the Bible lessons mama loved to teach and how it’s a sin to touch himself but maybe God will forgive him, just this once?

He wraps a hand around his thick length and squeezes, almost punishing himself. His head drops back and he stares at the ceiling, eyes wide as he tugs and pulls at his cock, slow at first then fast, fast, fast, fist flying with a tight grip until stars burst in his vision and warm come dribbles over his hand. His chest heaves as he catches his breath, blinking away the dark spots as his high fizzles out.

Thomas dries himself and gets dressed before lying down on the mattress in the corner to toss and turn until the sun rises.

The next morning, Thomas doesn’t realize that you haven’t come down from your room until well into the afternoon. Mama’s gone to town and Charlie is off playing Sheriff so it’s just the two of you in the house. He debates whether he should check on you or leave you alone but ultimately the worry that something might be wrong pulls him upstairs and finds him knocking on your door, a quick tap of his knuckles to the wood.There’s no sound from the other side, no shout of fuck off like he’d get from Charlie or a quiet just a minute, sweetheart he’d hear from mama. Tentatively, he turns the handle and pushes the door open, just a crack, enough to peek inside.

You’re in bed, sprawled out on your back with the quilt kicked off to the floor. Your bare breasts draw his eye and he looks away quickly, shame clawing up his throat. The bed creaks as you shift, sleepy noises leaving your lips in the process, and panic races through his veins, worried that you might wake up and find him standing there, worried that it might be what sends you running, worried about what mama will say if you up and leave and it’s his fault, worried, worried, worried.

“Thomas?” You ask, voice raspy. He didn’t even realize that you were awake, stupid, stupid, stupid of him. He should have turned around and left, should have—

“Hey, it’s okay,” you murmur, sitting up. Thomas hesitates, eyes still fixed on the floor. You must notice because from the corner of his eye he notices the quilt get picked up and then you’re telling him, “I’m decent.”

He swallows around the rock lodged in his throat and looks up, meeting your gaze. You don’t look mad or disgusted or upset. You’re actually smiling at him, a hand held out in welcome. He doesn’t dare touch you, but he takes a step closer, body moving like a moth to a flame.

Your head tilts to the side, assessing him, eyes flaying him open and leaving him feeling more exposed than when someone catches him without the mask. You’re holding the quilt up over your chest but Thomas can still see the tantalizing curves of your shoulders, the long line of your neck with the flutter of your pulse beneath delicate skin. It makes his mouth go dry.

“You ever touch a woman, Tommy?” You ask. The question catches him so off guard that all he manages is a strangled noise. “Well? That a yes or a no?” He shakes his head. You smile, lowering the quilt just enough to expose the top curve of your breasts.

“You wanna?”

Thomas’ eyes drop to your chest before quickly looking away. A flush creeps up his neck, staining what little of his cheeks you can see above the mask he wears. His hand flexes at his side, fingers curling open and shut.

“It’s okay, you can look,” you say, gentle, gentle, gentle, like coaxing a scared animal. He looks at you again, blue eyes wide. “Come closer.”

He shuffles closer, looming over the bed, back so wide that he blocks the sun streaming through the window and casts a shadow over your body. You reach for his hand and he jerks away, as if on instinct. You pause, giving him a few seconds of reprieve, then reach for him again, keeping your eyes fixed on his face. Lightly, you touch his hand and when he doesn’t flinch, you grasp it more tightly.

You guide his hand to your breast, settling his warm palm to your chest. He holds perfectly still for a moment and the restraint of it drives you insane, makes you bite your tongue so hard the taste of copper blooms across your tastebuds. Finally, he leans a little closer, fingers digging into your skin and making you gasp. He massages one breast, then the other, playing with the weight and feel of them in his large hands. You press your thighs together, cunt aching from the attention.

“That feels good,” you tell him, arching into his touch. The praise spurs him on, makes him more confident, and he starts to focus his attention on your nipples, pinching and twisting the sensitive buds. He’s surprisingly gentle despite his size and demeanor.

You kick away the quilt from your legs, exposing the rest of your body to him. His eyes trail down your body, hands going still. He looks up, tilting his head, asking a question, looking for permission. You nod your head quickly and your heart races as a palm slides down, down, down, until he’s cupping your pussy over your panties. Your hips jump at the friction.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine. Thomas holds his hand still as you grind yourself against his palm. You reach your hands down, holding onto his forearm with a death grip. “Please, please, please!”

His fingers slip beneath the elastic of your panties and you both groan. He plays with the embarrassing amount of wetness, smearing it over your skin. You guide his hand the slightest bit upwards until the calloused pads of his fingers swipe over your clit.

“That’s it, Tommy,” you tell him. “Right there, right there.”

Dutifully, he continues to lavish you with attention, taking every direction beautifully. Slower, faster, harder, he adjusts to every suggestion and has you moaning and crying his name in desperation, but it’s not enough. You’re right there, so close, but you feel so empty, you just need—

“Inside?” You ask. He pauses, brows pinching together. “Put your fingers inside me.”

Slowly, slowly, slowly, he eases one thick finger into your drenched hole. Your head drops back at the sensation, at the relief, and begin to grind your hips again. He starts to see the pattern, moving his hand so that he’s working with your rhythm. You look up at his face and the concentration in his eyes leaves you breathless. All he wants is to do good, be good, make you feel good.

Thomas presses another finger to your entrance, glancing at your face to make sure it’s okay. When you don’t say otherwise, he works both inside of you in tandem, the stretch making you groan. He curls them, exploring, skimming a spot inside of you that makes you cry out and dig your nails into his arm so hard that he grunts but doesn’t doesn’t pull away.

“I’m gonna come,” you tell him. “You’re doing so good, Tommy, oh my god.”

He’s panting, sweat dripping down his neck, muscles tight with his efforts to wrench an orgasm from you. The lethal combination of his fingers inside of you and his palm against your clit and the muffled noises sneaking past his mask have you tumbling over a precipice so high you worry you might never come down. Your cunt pulses around his fingers and you babble his name and an incoherent stream of praise as your release washes over you, wave after wave of it.

Thomas waits until your body collapses against the mattress and you’re gasping for breath before slowly removing his hand. He holds it up to his face, pink tongue darting out from the slit afforded for his mouth to taste your cum from his fingertips. He groans, his other hand reaching down to press tightly to the sizeable bulge in his pants. He thrusts against his palm once, twice, before going still, shoulders shaking.

A door slams downstairs. Luda Mae’s voice shouts for Thomas and he takes a step back, head whipping towards the door and eyes wide with panic. You scramble from the bed, grabbing your dress and pulling it on quickly so that you can rush out the room, shutting Thomas inside. You lean over the banister and see Luda Mae standing at the top of the basement stairs, hands on her hips.

“I think he went out to the barn,” you call down. She looks up at you.

“Why would he be out there?” She huffs. “And what are you still doin’ in your room? You look a mess.”

“Sorry, m’am. Had trouble sleeping last night.”

Your politeness softens her annoyance. “That’s okay, darlin’, you’re still learnin’ the ropes. I gotta go find Thomas, Charlie’s found some troublemakers.”

“If I see him first, I’ll let him know.” You nervously smooth your hands down your skirt. “What kind of trouble?”

“You don’t worry yourself about that. We’ll let the boys handle it, alright?”

“Yes, m’am.”

“Good girl,” she says. “I’ll be back.”

Luda Mae leaves through the front door and you return to your room. Thomas is standing where you left him, hands curled at his sides.

“You hear all that?” You ask him. He nods. “What’s going to happen?”

He walks to the window, peeks through the curtain. His shoulders are tense. When he turns back to you, he sets his hands on your shoulders and steers you to the bed, pushing gently until you’re sitting, the springs squeaking beneath your weight. He cups your cheek with one hand and points around the room with the other.

“You want me to stay in here?”

He nods.

“What if you need help?”

He shakes his head. He won’t need help.

“Okay. You better get down there.”

He nods again. Leaning down, he presses his forehead to yours, an approximation of a kiss. You smile at him when he pulls away. He lingers for a brief second longer before tugging open the door and disappearing from the room.

Trouble is heralded by the arrival of Uncle Charlie. You watch through the window as his cop car pulls up in the yard and he gets out, spitting curses you can’t hear. He waves a shotgun in the air, firing off a warning shot that makes you jump. You know Thomas told you to stay in your room but curiosity gets the better of you and you head downstairs.

Luda Mae is in the kitchen, sat at the table with a cup of tea. A piercing scream filters through the open window as she takes a tiny sip from her cup.

“You need somethin’, dear?” She asks, unperturbed by the interruption. You shake your head.

“No, m’am. Just came to ask if you needed help with dinner.”

“No, no, that’s alright. I got it covered.” Another sip. “Could you get the laundry from the line?”

It’s then that you realize she’s testing you. Earlier she told you to let the men handle it, but she wants to see where your loyalties lie. Thomas told you to stay put, to stay safe, but she’s sending you out to join the wolves because she knows, she knows, she knows that you’re just like them.

She just needs proof.

You smile. “Of course.”

On your way out of the kitchen, you slip a knife from the butcher block.

One of the men that Charlie dragged home writhes in pain, one leg bent at an unnatural angle. His friend takes off at run, pace as fast as his injured ankle will allow. They’re the last two that need to be dealt with. Thomas raises his chainsaw in the air, ready to end the animal’s suffering, but movement from the corner of his eye makes him pause.

The back door to the house opens and you stroll out into the yard, looking around frantically with a frightened expression. Thomas feels a rush of anger that you didn’t listen to him, didn’t stay up in your room, didn’t stay inside. The anger quickly turns to fear when he sees the other man, the one he intended to deal with later, rushes toward you. You take off, running across the field toward the barn.

Thomas cuts the gas, tosses the chainsaw aside. The muffled whimpers from the man on the ground piss him off and with one, two, three strikes of the heel of his boot, he silences him for good. He heads for the barn, red in his vision with every step. If the other man lays a single finger on you, Thomas will keep him alive but begging for death.

“Come on, we gotta get out of here,” a male voice shouts. “They’re goin’ to kill us!”

Thomas throws open the barn doors, the wood shaking with the force of it. You’re turned away from him and the first thing he notices is the knife held in a tight fist behind your back. The man stumbles to the ground, trying to scramble back from you as Thomas comes closer.

“No. We’re going to kill you,” you tell him. You spring forward, jumping on the man with a feral scream that sounds like music to Thomas’ ears. Your arms swing up, up, up and then slam down, down, down, burying your knife into the man’s chest over and over and over.

Thomas can’t wait anymore. He approaches you from behind and wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you away from the mangled body. You struggle in his hold and he hauls you over to a work bench, swiping the tools to the ground with his other arm and setting you on the surface.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you say immediately, head shaking side to side. “I just wanted to help, I just—“

Your rapid apologies morph into a choked off moan when he lifts your legs, wrapping them around his hips, grinding his painfully hard cock against you. He buries his face into your neck, licking at the blood that stains your perfect skin, the taste of salt and copper opening a pit of hunger in his belly that could never be filled by food.

“Tommy,” you whimper, head dropping back. He licks and bites at all the skin he can find and when he runs out, he drops to his knees and begins anew on the muscles of your legs.

He pushes the fabric of your dress up, bunching it around your waist to expose your pussy, still covered by the same panties you wore earlier when he made you come on his fingers. Wrapping his fist in the elastic, he pulls until it snaps under the pressure, fabric falling away and leaving you completely bare.

Thomas pushes your thighs apart, spreading you open. He leans closer, biting at the soft flesh of your thigh, a little harder than he should. The tiny indents his teeth make in your skin are proof that this isn’t some dream. You’re flesh and blood, just like him.

Just for him.

His mouth waters as he nears your cunt, the earlier memory of your taste making that hunger grow to near starvation. His tongue slides over the slick flesh, exploring the dips and folds that taste so sweet it hits him like a sugar high, like when he’d steal a handful of candy from the corner store and eat it all at once, afraid of getting caught.

There’s a quiet thump and Thomas looks up to find that you’ve collapsed onto the table. Hands reach down and your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling on the strands. He remembers the spot that he rubbed with his fingers and searches for it with his tongue, knowing he’s found it when your thighs press against his ears and you moan his name like you did in your room.

“Oh, god! Just like that, Tommy,” you say, holding his head in place. “So good, so fucking good.”

He licks and sucks and grazes his teeth against you to his heart’s content and you writhe beneath him, bucking up against his face so fiercely he has to hold you down with an arm across your lower belly. He grows braver, dipping his tongue into the warmth of your cunt and drinking you from the source until you’re shaking. When he pulls away, he’s awed by the mess he’s made of you, your lips puffy and skin slick and shiny from your cum. He uses his thumbs to spread you apart, admiring the way your hole clenches around nothing.

Thomas stands, unsure of what to do next. You sit up from the table, expression dazed. Tear tracks stain your cheeks and a brief strike of worry hits him. Did he hurt you? Was that too much? Are you—

“Come closer,” you whisper. His thoughts go silent as he obeys. You reach up, cupping his face, hands trailing down to the strap of his apron. You lift it over his head and drops down, hanging limply.

Your arms wrap around his thick middle, working the knot of strings loose behind his back. It falls to the floor in a heap now and he stares at it, pulse racing as your hands roam to his chest. His breath stutters as your touch traces lower, lower, lower, until your palm presses against his cock and his mouth drops open at the pleasure of it, so different from when he touches himself or ruts his hips into the mattress. He can feel the heat of your skin even through the thick fabric of his pants.

You’re popping the button and dragging down the zipper, wrapping a soft hand around his cock and pulling it free. Thomas groans, loud and rough, as you slide your hand up, thumb swiping over the clear fluid gathered at the very tip.

You tug on his cock, hard enough that he stumbles forward, pressing closer. You look up at him as you rub the flushed head through your wetness and his shoulders shake at the sensation. You feel so good, so warm, he just wants to—

You notch him at your entrance and on instinct he thrusts forward the slightest bit, just enough that the fat tip of him sinks into tight heat. You gasp, eyes going wide and he’s once again struck with the fear that he could be hurting you, maybe he’s too big, too much of a monster, but when he tries to pull away you’re grabbing his shirt in a tight fist.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss. “Keep going.”

Thomas obeys, just as he always does, pushing his hips closer, shoving his cock deeper, deeper, deeper. He watches his length disappear, your body stretching to accommodate his size. You look beautiful, with the tears that gather in your eyes and the blood smeared on your chest and the way your thighs shake with the effort to take him, that his chest aches, that last thread of control keeping him slow and steady snapping like his hips as he buries himself inside of you, completely and thoroughly.

You’ve never been this full before. You fall back on the rough wood of the work bench with a gasp, stars in your vision as your body adjusts to the sheer size of the man, the thick length of him splitting you open and leaving you breathless. He leans forward, the angle changing and tears spilling from your eyes as you stare up at the hulking monster above you.

“So big,” you gasp. “God, you’re so fucking big.”

His cock twitches inside of you and you moan, back arching off the bench. He feels so good, even through the burning stretch. You give a tentative wiggle of your hips and his eyelids flutter, a moan escaping him. When the pain eases into a dull ache, you lift a shaky hand to his face, settling your palm against the cool leather of his mask.

“I want you to fuck me, Tommy,” you tell him. “I want you to ruin me.”

His pupils grow impossibly wider and a shadow falls across his features, his demeanor changing in the blink of an eye. Gone is the man who was worried he would hurt you and in his place is the ravenous beast that matches the one clawing at you from the inside, just beneath your ribs where your chest aches with need. He draws his hips back until the tip is barely inside of you before thrusting forward. Your mouth opens, a scream ripping from your lungs but it’s cut short when a large hand wraps around your throat and squeezes.

Thomas is a man possessed, pounding into your body like it’s nothing more than a toy for his pleasure, filling your pussy to the limit with each stroke. The hand on your throat holds your body steady and he uses his other arm to lift one of your legs, then the other, your thighs pressed to his thick belly and your ankles by his ears. His moans mix with the lewd sound of skin against skin, a soundtrack of hedonism that you want to listen to on repeat until God calls you for judgment and sends you straight to Hell.

Your orgasm is quick to build, a pressure in your tummy that grows tighter and tighter until it bursts, all your muscles going taut with the force of it. Thomas roars, hands gripping your hips and holding you impaled on his cock as he floods your pussy with his release. You feel untethered, like you’re floating, and it’s not until you’re squinting into the Texas sun that you realize you are floating. Thomas is carrying you through the field, back to the main house, one arm supporting your back and other under your knees, holding you close to his chest.

Luda Mae is on the porch when he reaches the door, hands on her hips. He pauses and her keen gaze assesses you both. Finally, she smiles.

“Get yourselves cleaned up. Dinner is almost ready,” she says.

Wordlessly, Thomas brings you inside and down to the basement, where does exactly as he’s told.

Just as he always does.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment.

Want more to read? Check out my masterlists.

#slashers #slasher fandom #slasher fanfiction #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw the beginning #the texas chainsaw massacre #thomas tcm #leatherface #thomas hewitt smut #leatherface smut #thomas hewitt leatherface #slasher smut #tw blood #tw violent imagery

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thecapricunt1616 · 7 months ago

Text

Carmy X Nervous about a home birth

Let’s be so real here. If you told Carmy you wanted a home-birth - his first reaction would be 😦😰 - because with his mommy issues, the only way he feels as if he’s being a ‘good husband’ is if he is giving in to your every single need, and desire as a partner - and even more as the mother of his baby. But Mike, Nat, and Carm were born in a hospital - so the idea of not being around 40 doctors freaks him THE HELL out, but his Queen gets what she asks without a single question -- So of course his answer is ;

“However you think little bear wants to be brought into the world, Angel. I’ll get the best damn doula and midwife Chicago has to offer, hmm?”

As he’s rubbing lotion into your swollen 5 month belly and giving it sweet gentle kisses. Whispering to your adorable bump and resting his ear to it, whispering “shhh- wait I think I heard them move!!” All excited, even if it was just the grumbles of your hungry pregnant tummy, he probably knew that, but had such high hopes for his little.

(More BTC ❤️)

I genuinely think that Carmy would hold pregnancy and birth so close to his heart, because he would see it as the one single thing he literally could never provide - so the fact that you so willingly and openly offered your body, no matter the dangers it came with - to bare his child? He can hardly believe it and it makes him teary eyed every time he talks about your pregnancy because of the sacrifice he sees you making each and every second of every single day you’re carrying your little love to delivery. He can’t say

‘thank you’

and ‘I love you’

and ‘you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting’ enough throughout those 43 long and a lot of time grueling weeks of pregnancy as a first time mommy, making sure you knew and undertood jut how grateful and amazed he was with your body and mental perserverance.

When the time came - holy shit. When you woke him up? At around 2:40AM poking his ribs being like “Bear?!!” While wincing at your very much more painful then Braxton hicks contractions. He just gave you a lazy-ass ‘mmmph’

But as soon as you said “He’s coming, like- today- like now, Bear, he's really actually coming” he leaps into action.

He grabs his phone off the charger with quickness, rushes into the living room of your 3 bed house- holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he sprints through your yard in nothing but boxer briefs, hauling the long ass garden hose he bought exactly for this through the window as the phone continues to ring.

When it goes to voicemail? He’s PANICKING !! He’s whisper shouting into the mic

“SHES IN LABOR. THIS IS CARMY FUCKIN BEAR. DO YOU HEAR ME??? THIS KID IS ON HIS FUCKIN WAY OUT. GET YOUR ASS HERE DO I PAY YOU TO NOT ANSWER ME? FUCKIN'HELL!!!!”

Hes rapidly hanging up and calling again over and over as he chucks wet washcloths in the freezer and drops to his knees in front of the couch trying to fill the birthing yoga ball with the pump as fast as he can. The midwife answers and is like

“SHE BETTER BE FUCKING CROWNING ARE YOU STUPID MY RINGTONE WAS SCREAMING THE ENTIRE TIME THIS BABY WAS BEING DEL-“

and Carmy is like

“NOW. NOW. NOW. SHE SAYS SHES 8 MINUTES APART. GET YOUR ASS HERE. NOW. WHAT THE FUCK DO I PAY YOU FOR, LINDA??” as he’s throwing the electric pump to the side out of frustration and using a fucking bike pump to fill your yoga ball so you could bounce on it like all the labor books said.

Meanwhile you’re in the bedroom, groaning and moaning, just absolutely miserable. Hearing your husband shouting at your doula before calling the midwife and saying

“What the fuck do I do, Sara?! Sara she’s- she’s nearly fucking crying!! What do I- oh. Ok. Ok. Yup. Heard. Heard. Ok. Mmhmm- ok. Promise? Ok. See you then” and he’s right back in your room, rubbing your back as you contract and groan just whispering as he massages your pressure points to help get the baby down that he learned in birthing class, cooing

“That’s it- mmhmm- good girl, let it all out beautiful, I know it hurts- but You’re doing such a good job with y’breathing princess. I’m gonna put this cold cloth on your forehead, yeah? It’ll help you feel nice and cool, and relaxed, pretty girl” like he explains every single thing he’s doing, before he does it.

Whenever you have an extra big contraction, he's grunting with you and easing you through it like they taught him in the classes, adding the pressure to your back to counteract the incredible pain you felt every single time it washed over you whining and sobbing to Carmys chest "I- I can't- oh god- Bear, somethings wrong!!! Hurts so bad, so fucking bad- please!! Please let me I need to go to the hospital!! Somethings wrong B-Bear! This pain c-can't be normal"

He shook his head and rubbed your back soothingly, telling you the whole time to listen to him talk, and how it hurts so bad, and joking 'f'course my son would give his mommy a hard time huh? Sug said the same thing, Berzatto kids are brutal. Shoulda told you before I got you knocked up, huh?" his forehead rested on yours and rubbing your spasming back muscles soothingly.

“That was a big one huh? That means he should be coming soon huh? My strong beautiful angel - you’re almost there princess- a few more pushes and he’s gonna be in our arms. You’re so fucking amazing-“ he encourages, gently rubbing your belly that had dropped lower then you'd ever seen. You were on your knees in the bath, forehead to forehead with Carm. He carefully sat in front of you on his own knees.

"Alright one more- alright? Just one big push, yeah?" he echos your midwife, ever so carefully letting your belly go and resting his hands below to catch his little guy. You look at him nervously, sniffling and whimpering nervously.

"Wh-what if I can't, Carm? What if hes t-too big or- or-" he cuts you off by kissing your lips lovingly.

"You, You? Baby? Shhhh, shush, princess- Listen t'me- you're made f'this, mm? You're the strongest woman i've ever met. So focus, focus, princess. Listen t'my voice. I'll count you out, baby. Only 10 seconds ok? Push as hard as you can, ready?"

He sticks his hands in the water, cradling you close and kissing your cheek and temple and contains for you through the energy sucking push. When you rest back, second 5, sobbing

“I- I can’t do it- he feels stuck- I can’t do it Carm, i'm so sorry. I failed us. I’m sorry I failed our baby”

And he’s just shushing you into your skin,

“Shhhhh, shhhhhh- let’s breathe, mm? Together. It’s just you, an’me. Ok? Don’t even think about him, princess. They told us, as long as you breathe he's gonna come out, easy as pie, hmm? So let’s breathe, yeah? Princess? Breathe him out, just in, and out, force all that air out as hard as you can like they taught us, remember baby? see-” he holds your hands, kissing them and demonstrating big grunting strong breaths for you to copy and of course you did.

When it got to the point your contractions were a minute apart, Thanks to him, in 2 more big grunting pushes your little boy was born. When you were in transition Carmy sat outside the pool, knelt and pressed forehead to forehead, whispering to you through every contraction how your little boy was almost here, and how he could never repay you ever for the gift that was his birth.

By the time you were begging on your knees in the bath to stop pushing because it was "too hard" , Carmy knew from what they explained in birthing class that meant -- it was time.

So he coaxed you through three more huge pushes. Even though you told him each time ‘I can’t do it, please, Bear. He’s not ready- I can’t.” But he rubbed your back and told you how amazing you were and to just try, and assured that if your little man wasn’t ready they’d send you home, and that he was right there ready to catch your son and lift him on to your chest.

And after your third other worldly push, you couldn’t even put in to words, the amount of energy it took out of you. It was harder then you’d ever pushed in your life for anything. - but of course the little guy was scream wailing just like any other Berzatto would.

You couldn’t stop choke sobbing as the baby wailed and Carmy kept muttering ‘you did it! You fuckin’ did it, princess. He’s so beautiful. Look at him! He’s perfect. 10 fingers 10 toes- hear those lungs, angel? He’s perfect” as he rested the pretty little cub on your chest.

You would just look at him amazed, by instinct guiding him to your breast to pacify him and watching as the nurses usher Carmy out of the way and you would reach out, hooking your hands together so he couldn't get too far away.

“Alright Momma! Congrats, now let’s deliver this placenta in 3 pushes that’s the magic number. So when I say 3 you’ll- oop!” The nurses gasp as they look down “lucky! You’re lucky! Alright mommy never mind. No tears, and your body went ahead and did that work for ya! Alright momma, here we go here’s your placenta” the nurse pulls it out of the water and you nearly gag at the look of it

“Get that thing away from my baby! Keep it in the bowl!” You demand, holding him to your skin and cradling his head, you had told yourself you would do a delayed cord cutting, but you in no way wanted your baby to be next to that... thing - it just freaked you out.

“that is nasty! Disgusting” you sniffle, looking back at your little angel who was peacefully suckling off your breast.

“Oh- sweetheart” one of the nurses giggles, putting it in a biohazard bag. “Are you sure- didn’t you say your baby’s father is a chef? Sweetheart, this will boost your milk production - it’s giving you all the vitamins you lost while pregnant. Are you sure?”

*cut to Carmy actually gagging at the nurses American horror story ass tactics while you're like 'what am i, a CAT?!??!"

And the nurse is like “BABY!! Every other animal does it!! You said holistic is best!!! Alright I guess I'll toss it if it bugs you that much..”

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anonymous-dentist · 11 months ago

Text

Or: Cellbit runs an alchemy shop with his family, and he's also the lost prince of the Gato Kingdom, but he isn't, but he really really isn't, you've gotta believe him, he isn't, really, he isn't, you've gotta-

For day seven of @smallchaoscryptid's Spiderbit Week - Royalty/Family

The day starts off normally:

Cellbit wakes up to find himself alone in bed, Roier having already gone to work downstairs in the store.

He lazes beneath the covers before hearing his son shouting in the other room. Grudgingly, he gets up, slides on his slippers and his bathrobe, and he goes to get Richarlyson settled with a new coloring book because, according to Richarlyson, Pepito ate the last one.

(Pepito did not eat the last one.)

Cellbit goes back into his bedroom to change, and then he goes to the wash basin in the hallway to brush his teeth and wash his face. He goes to the kitchen, shoves a singe slice of bread in his mouth for breakfast, tells the kids to behave, decides to live in ignorance and believe that they actually listened to him, and then, finally, he goes downstairs to help Roier with the shop.

That's when things get weird because, instead of the normal dozen or so customers they usually get in the mornings before things get busy, there are a handful of people in shiny armor with pointy swords, and there's a woman with cat ears leaning against the counter talking at an indifferent Roier.

Cellbit freezes on the stairs. Absently, his hands raise to his own ears, thankfully pinned down today with his alchemical goggles. He tends to have them out more days than not now, but. Well. Old habits die hard.

"I really don't know what you're talking about," Roier casually say. He isn't even looking at the woman, he's, instead, inspecting his nails- recently painted by Jaiden and absolutely adorable, just like he is. "But we do have a sale on luck potions if you wanna try one of those."

The woman's eyebrow twitches, and, for whatever reason, Cellbit doesn't think that she's here to buy something. Between the fine quality of her clothes and the literal knights with her and her entire aura, she just screams royalty, and that's a bad thing.

That's a really bad thing.

But Roier seems to have it under control, so, silently, Cellbit starts sneaking back up the stairs. If Roier needs him, he'll scream, and then Cellbit will rush down and kill everybody in the room and blame it on a sudden alchemical reaction gone wrong. Easy.

Except:

The door to the living quarters slams open and Pepito comes rushing out of it with tears streaming down his face.

"Apa!" he cries, leaping into Cellbit's arms and nearly sending him stumbling back down the stairs. "Richarlyson ate my crayons and now he's dying!"

(Richarlyson is not dying.)

Cellbit can practically smell the irritation coming off of Roier, even if he can't see him with his back turned to both him and the store and the really annoying royalty inside.

And, sure, Cellbit is annoyed, too, but he's also a father. So he just sighs and holds his son and lets him cry into his shoulder.

"Who's there?" one of the knights asks.

There's the sound of a sword being drawn, and then there's the sound of another sword being drawn and, really, is a peaceful retirement too much to ask for? Pac and Mike got one. Bad got one. Even Etoiles has some sort of retirement plan he's supposedly following between father-daughter dungeon-busting field trips.

The way Pepito is being held has him looking down the stairs and at the very rude people about to kill his parents, so Cellbit turns around so that Pepito is facing the door instead. He's always preferred looking danger in the face, anyway; it's much easier to be stabbed in the back than the front, after all.

Cellbit passively looks from one knight to another. He skips his eyes over the woman entirely. He catches Roier's eye, subtly rolls his own eyes, adjusts his hold on Pepito.

"Sorry," Cellbit says, "but my son is dying. I'll be right back."

"He's dead!" Pepito wails, ever-helpful. He's such a good kid.

The woman frowns. Cellbit doesn't think he likes her face. It's too... uncanny, like a doll come to life. Or, rather, like an image escaped from the mirror above the wash basin, and Cellbit does not like the implications of that, thanks.

As the knights start to advance, the woman holds up a hand to stop them.

"Hurry up," she says.

"Yeah," Roier agrees. "Tell Richas to die quicker, we have company."

Pepito screeches right into Cellbit's ear, making him wince very angrily in Roier's direction; all Roier does is wink and motion with his fingers for Cellbit to hurry up.

Cellbit quickly takes Pepito back into their living quarters and puts him down on the sofa.

Richarlyson is on the floor, very calm, very much not dying, and very much using Pepito's crayons in his own coloring book.

Pepito gasps, tears gone and replaced with wide, shocked eyes.

"But you ate them!" he exclaims.

Cellbit sighs, "Your brother is a magician, now can you two please behave for ten minutes while Roier and I deal with those people downstairs?"

Richarlyson's head perks up. "There are people downstairs?"

Cellbit nods. "Bad people, probably. If you hear glass breaking, you know what to do."

It's Richarlyson's turn to nod.

They have a plan. If things go down in the shop, Richarlyson and Pepito stay upstairs and hide until either Cellbit or Roier goes to get them. If the kids hear glass breaking, they are to escape out their bedroom window and climb down the tree outside and run to their Uncle Bad's house until Cellbit and Roier can get rid of the bad guys and save the day.

(Roier's words, not Cellbit's. Apparently, calling unruly customers or the police "the enemy" is bad. Go figure.)

Cellbit makes the kids both pinky promise him to follow the plan before letting out a long, stressed-out breath and starting back downstairs.

First, though, he dips into the kitchen and grabs his favorite butcher knife from off of the counter and tucks it into the custom-made sheath hidden beneath his jacket. Just in case.

Once downstairs, he's immediately manhandled by the knights until he's pushed up against the counter. Unfortunately, he isn't pushed behind the counter. But at least he can act as a shield... just in case.

On instinct, Cellbit reaches behind himself and takes Roier's hand. Roier takes it and squeezes gently, his thumb rubbing little circles into the skin by his thumb.

"Well," Cellbit says, looking from the knights to the woman, "you want something. What is it."

It isn't a question. It's more of a demand, really, and maybe he's stupid for demanding answers of royalty, but, like. Fuck the monarchy. What have they ever done for him?

The woman speaks: "We're looking for whichever one of you is Cellbit."

If they weren't already pinned down, Cellbit's ears would be flattening themselves to the top of his head. He bites back a hiss and instead just squeezes Roier's hand.

The woman continues with, "I'd like to bring him back with us to-"

"Yeah, okay," Roier casually says. "I'm Cellbit, hello."

Out of the corner of his eye, Cellbit can see Roier waving; he stifles a smile. He's so stupid...

Cellbit turns around and gasps dramatically. "Gatinho, no! You can't leave us!"

Roier bites his lip and looks away, turning his head to the side.

"But guapito," he says, dropping his voice an octave just for effect, "if I don't go, then... what about you and the children? They might-" (He moans and bows his head.) "-kill you. And then what would I do with myself?"

"Oh, don't worry!" the woman quickly says. "We won't hurt your family! That's why we're here, actually, to bring you and your family with us."

Cellbit ignores her. He reaches across the counter and cups Roier's cheek with his free hand, gently nudges his face until he raises his head and looks Cellbit in the eye; Roier's eyes are already wet with unshed tears, wow, he's good.

"But what will I do without you?" Cellbit demands, pitching his voice up just slightly. "Don't be stupid! I love you, pendejo!"

(They do this a lot, believe it or not. It drives Richarlyson crazy every time they do it because it somehow always ends up with them kissing until they're out of breath and shaky in the knees.)

"Não!" Roier cries. He squeezes his eyes shut and rips himself away from Cellbit entirely, staggering back and leaning against a display shelf full of anti-gravity potions. "Don't say that!"

"Say what?" Cellbit asks. "I love you!"

Roier screams and flinches against the case. "Não!"

Cellbit leans over the counter. "I love you."

Roier moans his time, his hands flying out wildly and grasping onto seemingly-random bottles on the shelf. "Não!!"

Cellbit extends a hand. "I. Love. You. Te amo, guapito."

One of the knights asks, "What the fuck is going on?"

And then the knights all start shouting as Roier opens his eyes and lunges to shove a potion into Cellbit's hands.

Cellbit grins and yanks the cork out of the bottle and chugs the potion and slams the empty bottle against the floor. It shatters, and he jumps.

"What the fuck?" the woman demands.

Cellbit twists mid-air and lands on the ceiling. He waves down at Roier, blows him a kiss, and takes off running for the back potion room. The door is closed, but the ventilation window above the door is open because he was supposed to be making potions right now. Silver linings.

He dives through the window, just barely managing to squirm through. He grunts, frowns, regrets getting this old, makes it through.

His goggles are nudged off of his head, though, leaving his ears on full display as he escapes into the potion room.

The woman gasps, "Get back here! Cellbit!"

But Roier just cheers, "Corre, gatinho!"

The potion room's door thuds and shakes in its hinges as the knights all slam against it. But, like, fuck those guys.

Cellbit runs down the length of the ceiling until he's reached the wall facing the alley behind the shop. He steps onto the wall, and then he runs down that until he's by the window. Again, ventilation, he should be working right now, but no, he can never know a moment of peace.

The potion starts running out just as Cellbit crawls through the window and lands on the shop's outside wall. He wrinkles his nose at the smell, but it's fine. Just trash, it's fine.

There's shouting from the front of the shop and the sounds of more bottles shattering. Roier sounds fine, though. He's even laughing, of course he is. He's badass, and Cellbit loves him, and Cellbit just wishes he was there to watch Roier swing his sword around like the sexy piece of shit he is.

The potion's effects wear off as Cellbit's feet touch the ground; two minutes, just as he'd made it to be.

He can see Richarlyson and Pepito running for it at the far end of the alley. Good, they actually followed directions for once.

Cellbit turns to run after them and get Bad's help, but he's stopped by a firm hand grabbing his shoulder from behind.

He snarls and pulls his knife out of his coat, spinning and slashing and just narrowly missing the woman's throat.

"Cellbit!" she shouts. "Calm down, it's just me!"

Cellbit responds by lunging at her with his teeth bared. He's been filing his teeth down for years, but he knows that he still cuts an intimidating figure when he's pissed enough.

The woman doesn't seem afraid, though. If anything, she just seems angry. And sad. Mostly angry.

She easily sidesteps his attack and yells, "It's me! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Oh, that's cute. Royalty asking why someone would want to hurt them, that's funny. They have the self-awareness of a walnut, all of them.

"Stop shouting 'it's me'!" Cellbit snaps. "Why should I care who you are?"

The woman's face starts turning red from frustration. "Because I'm your sister!"

Oh, that's rich.

"I don't have a sister," Cellbit sneers.

He swipes at her. Of course he does, he doesn't have a sister. He didn't have a family before he and the others found Richarlyson, and he only has one now that he has his kids and his husband.

"Then why do we have the same ears?" the woman demands.

She ducks under his knife and sweeps his legs out from under him. He falls and hisses and growls and does all sorts of things that princes might do because he isn't royalty. He knows that for certain. His first memory was him eating the corpse of a soldier on an empty battlefield, and it's with that image in mind that he snaps his teeth at the woman's throat.

"Only the royal family of the Gato Kingdom is born with feline features," the woman snaps. "Idiot!"

"Fuck the Gato Kingdom," Cellbit spits. "Your war destroyed everything I had!"

The woman's eyes turn sad. "It destroyed everything I had, too. It took my family from me. My friends. My home. We're just now starting to rebuild, and-"

She shrieks as Cellbit manages to flip their positions so that she's the one being pinned to the ground.

"So you show up and try kidnapping someone to fill in for your lost prince?" he snarls. "You people haven't changed."

The woman's mouth thins into an angry line. "I'm not trying to kidnap you! I just want to bring you home!"

"I don't have a home! This is my home!"

"You really don't remember, do you?" she asks, voice low. She isn't even struggling any more, not really. "It's me, your sister. Bagi."

The name stings Cellbit's brain in a way he doesn't like.

"I don't know you," he firmly says. "You don't know me. Leave my family alone."

He stands, hands shaking, head spinning. He doesn't like this.

Roier calls his name from the front of the building.

Cellbit, sure that this Bagi won't do anything while she's busy crying, turns and starts running towards the store.

He doesn't make it three steps before getting thwacked in the back of the head with something large and heavy and metal.

"Sorry," Bagi flatly says.

As he falls to the ground, his knife falls from his hand and ends up just out of reach.

He lands on his stomach and immediately tries standing again.

But he's stopped by a foot on his back pressing him down.

"I'll be sure to bring your family with us," Bagi tells him. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"Could have fooled me," Cellbit mutters.

Darkness takes him at last as Bagi smacks him again with her weapon, and all Cellbit can think is that he hopes that the kids ended up making it to Bad's after all.

#catboy in the village au #a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#guapoduo #spiderbit #sorta #SPEEDRUNNING BC I HAVE A BUSY AFTERNOON BYE

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bratphilia · 1 year ago

Text

the flip side (m. schmidt x reader x w. afton)

note: remember that mike fic i wrote where i mentioned his voyeurism kink? here we go.

pairing: mike schmidt x reader x steve raglan / william afton

tags: bondage/restraints (both m/f receiving), gagging (m receiving), cuckolding/voyeurism, doggy style, spanking, dubcon, dom!william, sub!reader + mike

mike awoke to a low whistling sound. the last thing he remembers is dreaming the same dream he's been having his entire life, except this time, instead of ghost children leaving cryptic messages for him, all he could hear was your voice in the distance crying out to him for help. when his eyes opened and he gained consciousness, he found himself in a nightmare beyond anything he's ever experienced in his sleep before.

it was you, blindfolded, completely stripped nude and handcuffed, laying on your stomach on an old mattress on the floor. he seemed to be in a dark basement. before he could think he tried to call out your name and lunge himself towards you, but he was halted realizing he was gagged by a cloth and restrained around his chest and wrists. he was completely powerless.

"ah, good," a cheery, oddly familiar voice calls, "you're finally awake."

steve raglan, his fucking job counsellor, steps into his line of vision. "we almost got started without you."

mike wanted to demand what the hell was going on, but he can only punctuate it by wriggling aggressively in his restraints. steve only laughs at his helplessness.

"you just couldn't leave it alone, could you?" steve asks rhetorically, and mike had no idea what he's referring to, but he has an inkling it has to do with freddy's, because what else could this be about? "so i decided to take something from you." he gestures toward you. your eyes are squeezed shut with tears rolling down your face. mike looks at you pitifully. he hates to see you cry, especially now that he can't do anything about it.

"as you may have guessed by now," steve rambles on, starting to unbutton his shirt and strip himself from his trousers, "i'm going to use your little girlfriend, and you're going to watch. completely powerless to stop it."

you begin to sob. "no...! please, don't..."

"shut the fuck up!" steve's tone switches so easily. he walks over to you and grabs you by your cheeks and bends down to your level, whispering something mike can't hear, but you obviously don't like the sound of it as more tears run down your face.

steve turns to address mike again. "now, any preferred positions?"

mike only blinks. did he really just fucking ask him that?

"oh, wait!" steve laughs, like him being gagged and unable to answer is the funniest thing in the world.

"she sure is gorgeous. you picked a good one," steve comments, making mike's blood boil. no one should call you that, only him. "let's see... what about you, princess?"

you sniff. "just... get it over with." mike's heart breaks slightly at your lack of resistance, but he understands that steve is probably going to kill you if you don't submit to him.

steve frowns. "well that's no fun."

he walks around the mattress, observing you, while you bury your face into the cushiony surface, embarrassed. "i think i'll make this easy for you two. i'll just take you from behind, sweet girl."

"mmph!" mike cries out against the cloth. he's violently rattling against the restraints, desperate to break free.

steve just chuckles at his futile attempt. "don't hurt yourself, kid."

he kneels down on the mattress and adjusts you to his liking: bent on your stomach so your ass is in the air. steve immediately sticks his cock inside of you and doesn't even give you a grace period to adjust.

something inside mike's stomach stirs. it's a... pleasurable feeling. but one he can't relieve, so it's even more so frustrating.

you cry out loudly. grasping desperately at the fabric of the mattress but your grip keeps coming loose due to the rough physicality of which steve is handling you in.

"please!" you practically scream. "please, i can't take it!"

steve just laughs, almost evilly. "you hear that mike? hear your girl beggin' for me?"

mike lets out a grunt. he can feel his pants tightening. as much as he hates to admit it, he's getting aroused off of this.

the room is filled with the noises of skin slapping, steve's grunts and groans paired with incessant moaning. it was all overwhelming to mike. he shut his eyes, trying to block off the tirade of steve's praises — his 'good girl's, 'yes baby's, 'take it for daddy's, and so on — and tries to focus on the noises tumbling uncontrollably from your mouth. he starts bucking his hips to create friction by rubbing his dick against the fabric of his pants.

mike doesn't realize it but muffled, quiet whimpering noises are coming from him. however, steve notices.

"oh, you sick fuck. you like that, huh? like watching a stranger fucking your girlfriend, huh?" steve asks with a wide smile on his face. then he grips you by your hair so you can look at him. "look at him, sweetheart. see how pathetic he is? he's getting off to this."

fuck, your eyes. mike comes from that alone. he stops bucking his hips and just watches you listlessly, in true post-orgasm-clarity fashion. steve's grunts grow louder and more ravenous, until he eventually reaches his own orgasm. he pulls out of you and spills his seed all over your lower body. steve sits down on his knees at the edge of the mattress while you lay there, crying and shaking.

"i might have to keep you two," he says, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf smut #fnaf x reader #steve raglan #william afton #william afton x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #well.#at least mike comes in this one

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noxturnalnymph · 8 months ago

Text

Devotion 🖤 III. Path to the Future (Ch 10)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

⚠️PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE SERIES WARNINGS, ESPECIALLY: canon-typical violence/death, guns, blood/injury⚠️

III. Path to the Future

CH 10 (7.1k) Joel’s head snaps up, waking him from the sleep he didn’t realize he had fallen into. He looks directly across from him and meets Skinny’s sleepy-eyes, seemingly having just been woken up as well. They both sit frozen for a moment, startled still by the noise that woke them up. There are muffled screams coming from behind where Joel is tied up. Your screams.

Another beat passes and Skinny jumps up, grabbing the knife - Joel’s knife - off the ground, running back behind Joel’s chair. He hears grunting and cursing, a nasally voice hollering Mike, hey, Mikey, and then your panicked cries. What the fuck is happening? Joel tries to turn in the chair and look behind him but his bindings are too tight to move. He tries to move his hands towards his pants to reach for that knife he has tucked inside them but goddamnit, he’s tied up so fuckin’ tight his hands don’t budge at all.

More shuffling and crying behind him, Skinny cursing and shuffling around, then the slapping of bare feet on the wood floor, and you appear before him. Holy shit. You’re covered in blood. Not just a little bit, but an entire body’s worth of blood. You’re wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of underwear. Every inch of your exposed skin is tinted red, your hair and clothes still wet, the bottom of the shirt dripping onto the floor, pooling at your feet which have left a trail of bloody footprints behind you. Only the whites of your eyes stand out, wide open in horror.

“What did you do?” your voice trembles.

“W- What?” Joel sputters. “What th- are you okay?”

Skinny’s shoes come squeaking up behind him, Joel can hear him panting, and can feel the kid’s quick, panicked exhales blowing hot on the back of his neck. He checks and rechecks Joel’s bindings, pulling and pushing on all of the ropes. Joel can see his hands are shaking and stained with blood.

“It wasn’t him, he’s still tied up. Besides, I was watchin’ ‘im,” Joel hears Skinny say in a quivering voice, conveniently leaving out the part where he fell asleep in his chair.

Except Joel knows he didn’t do anything, he has - in fact - been strapped to this chair for hours. Where is the Big Guy? Jesus Christ, is that whose blood you’re wearing? He looks you up and down, trying to make sure you’re not wounded and the blood isn’t yours. You’re twitching and hyperventilating but you don’t look like you’re in pain. You suddenly still, and grab your head, horror washing across your crimson face.

“Oh my fucking god, he didn’t come here alone!” you screech, finally waking the sleeping couple on the other side of the room. You point your red finger toward Joel’s face. “Who’s out there?”

“I don’t know what you-”

You slap your open palm across Joel’s cheek, hard. So hard you have to shake your hand afterwards from the sting. The metallic smell of blood overwhelms his senses and Joel’s cheek bites with the sharp pain.

“Quit fucking lying and tell us how many people you brought here,” you hiss, inches from his face now. Your terror-filled eyes bore into his and he remembers how much he missed that wild look you used to give him - but not like this. You look half mad. Joel just stares at you in confused silence.

“You guys need to check the fucking perimeter,” you scream at the kids standing in the middle of the room staring at you slack-jawed. “Now!” They stumble over chairs, the legs scuffing on the floor as they hastily make their way out of the building. You turn back to Joel but address the silent figure behind him. “Why are you just standing there? You need to get this fucking asshole to talk before they kill us all.”

Skinny rounds the chair and stands in front of Joel, looking much less menacing now that the shit has apparently hit the fan. He’s pale as a ghost, the dark red blood smeared on his still-shaking hands and up his arms making a stark contrast. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows down nothing, trying to gather courage. Hurry up, you whisper behind Skinny, you gotta hurry up. He hesitates in front of Joel, wringing his hands and patting his pockets for his knife.

Then Joel sees the knife, glinting in the moonlight just behind Skinny. In your hand.

You move quickly, drawing the knife deftly across Skinny’s throat, a ruby line forming along his ghastly complexion. Skinny’s eyes go wide as he clutches at his wound, the line dripping and then pouring blood, all over his neck, all over his hands, all over the floor. Several spurts fly out and hit Joel square in the chest. You cut deep. Shallow sounds come out of Skinny’s mouth - no words, just air - as he sinks to his knees. Joel watches him slide in the pool of blood forming on the floor and tip over onto his side, time moving in slow-motion as the life drains from the boy’s eyes in under sixty seconds.

He’s so caught up in watching the light leave Skinny’s eyes that your hand on his arm startles him. He didn’t even notice you’d moved next to him, and he watches you silently cut away several ropes with the bloody knife. He shakes his stiffened shoulders, shrugging off the restraints and pushes his body off the chair, fighting the tightness and pain from sitting tied up for hours. He turns to check on you but he’s immediately distracted by the blood-curdling scream you let out. Instinctively he ducks and swivels, looking around for the threat.

He feels you thrust the knife handle into his hand and he takes it with shaking fingers, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He wipes the handle on his thigh to make sure his grip isn’t compromised by all the blood. You’re still screaming but he can’t see what you see, even with the moonlight illuminating the darkened room he doesn’t see the danger. The two kids come running back into the building and stop short, halfway across the room. The boy slowly raises a rifle up. Joel looks left and then right… then down. Oh. Skinny lies dead at his feet in a pool of blood. Joel is covered in blood spray and holding a knife while you scream bloody-murder behind him.

He’s the danger.

He looks back up at the couple and sees the boy aiming the rifle at Joel’s head with a tremulous grip. Great, he’s probably gonna miss his head and shoot him in the gut, and Joel’s gonna die a slow and agonizing death by his own fucking rifle at the hands of a chubby-cheeked teenager. What the fuck have you done? Wait, what the fuck are you doing? Joel sees you walking a wide arc around him, skirting towards the couple in the middle of the room, towards your friends. Your friends?

They’re not even looking at you, their focus solely trained on Joel, who has dropped the knife and stands with his arms raised in surrender. He watches you get closer and ease the rifle out of the boy’s hands - which he eagerly allows - happy to give the responsibility of taking a life to someone else, to anyone else. You check the chamber and tuck the rifle butt in the crook of your arm, but instead of turning the gun back on Joel you swivel it right back at the boy and shoot him directly between the eyes. His body falls to the ground with a sickening thump.

The girl yelps from the noise and then - realizing what you’ve done - takes a breath in to let out an anguished cry. Only she never gets the chance. You’ve chambered a new round and aimed the short distance to your next target. Joel hears himself cry out as you pull the trigger, the girl’s body immediately falling over, slumping down onto the ground next to her boyfriend.

You swing the rifle around now and aim it at Joel. His hands go higher in the air. He can’t remember if you were a very good shot when you lived with him, but you’re at a distance now where it would be difficult to miss him either way. He also just watched you murder three people in front of him, so he doesn’t doubt your commitment. You stare down the barrel at him, eyes black and grip steady. Your breathing is even, your demeanor is calm and calculated. You’re still dripping scarlet but gone is the terrified creature from moments ago. Then again, why would you be scared?

You’re the scariest thing in this room right now.

You hold the gun there, aimed at Joel, and he isn’t sure if you’re going to pull the trigger. You didn’t hesitate when you shot the other two, so maybe if you were going to shoot him you would have done it by now. Or maybe you’re doing it on purpose, drawing it out, making him sweat. He watches your face, passive and unblinking. Maybe this is payback for the way he treated you and all the shit he put you through. Maybe the bullet will be your final revenge. He can’t say he wouldn’t deserve it.

“You didn’t have to kill those kids,” he says, working to appeal to your humanity. “They’d already given you their gun.”

“I did them a favor. They were never gonna make it. They were soft. Weak.”

“So were you, once,” Joel coos.

“Is that what you think?” Your voice is even as you take steps forward until the barrel of the gun touches his chest, right over his beating heart. “I think I just trusted the wrong person.”

You see fear flash in his eyes. Good. He always had a way of underestimating you, of treating you like a delicate little thing. You tried to be good for him, wanted to expose your soft underbelly, felt an unhinged desire to please him, wanted to earn his love and affection. But you weren’t fucking weak, not after everything you’ve been through. It was this man - insistent in his tenderness - who wormed his way past the defenses around your heart, only to turn into a venomous serpent once your walls were down.

“You gonna shoot me, baby?”

Your eye twitches.

“Stop calling me that. I’m not your fucking baby. I saw you holding your baby.”

You jerk the gun away from his chest, stalking past him and pushing open a second door that had been behind where he was tied up. He turns and watches you walk out into the moonlight, dropping the rifle in the grass as you head towards the lake, stripping off your soiled clothes as you go. You reach the water’s edge and although he knows it must be close to freezing, you march in without hesitation. He watches you until you sink beneath the rippling blackness, bubbles rising where you once walked.

Once you’re submerged in the frigid liquid you let out the scream you’ve been holding in all day, forcing all the air in your lungs out, watching it rise and break at the surface. Fuck this day. Fuck Roy for his sadistic cruelty, your lip stinging again - reopened from your underwater wail. Fuck Mike for trying to put his hands on you in the dry-storage room. He was supposed to help you, not help himself. It could have gone down differently for him. Fuck those kids for blindly trusting you, making it too easy to see your plan through. Joel was right, they were innocent and would have easily surrendered. But it was all fucked, wasn’t it?

In fact, fuck Joel most of all. Fuck him for putting you in this position in the first place. Fuck him for drawing you in and then betraying your trust. Fuck him for continuing to think he deserved you, his obsession with you making it impossible to stop thinking about him. Fuck him for getting whatever he wants, for screwing anything that moved, for putting a baby in Bianca, for wanting anything that isn’t you. Fuck him for driving you away from the only place that felt like home in a very long time, forcing you into this cursed circumstance. Fuck him for every minute of today you had to endure.

Fuck. Him.

You come up for a breath, the chill in the night air sending goosebumps all over you, making your skin sting. You draw your hands across your body, washing the evidence of your violence off of you, before you walk back out of the water. You stride naked and dripping, cold and shivering across the lawn back into the side door of the dining hall. Joel stands right where you left him and watches you pass by him, moving to the dry storage and grabbing your clothes off a high shelf. You get redressed as he watches in silence and then grab the remaining jerky and half jar of pickles from your pack.

You share the midnight snack spread out on a table with Joel among the bodies littering the floor like some kind of macabre picnic.

“Did you know these people?”

“Oh yeah, we go way back,” your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“But they trusted you. They knew you-”

“They knew what I wanted them to know,” you bark.

“And what was that?”

“I told them I could get them to safety, get them fed. I told them I could help them.”

“But why would they believe you?”

“Because it’s exactly what they wanted to hear, Joel,” you laugh. “You spend a lot of time talking. I know people like you and all, but you don’t do enough listening. I listen to people, I pay attention, and if you listen well enough people will tell you precisely what they want. You can use that to your advantage if you know what you’re doing. You can convince them the thing you want is the same thing they want.”

When you look back at him you catch him looking at you with his mouth ajar. He’s taking in everything you just said and piecing together things in his mind bit by bit. Slowly, an entirely different version of you is coming into focus. He’s been working on manipulating people for years, honing his skills and constantly making adjustments to build up his community for protection. Meanwhile, you’ve done the same thing in under a day. You had these people wrapped around your fucking finger.

Effortlessly.

He remembers the lengths Tess went through to protect you from him, even going so far as to call her loyalty to him into question. Now that he thinks about it, sending you away to the farm behind his back was probably the only move Tess ever made against him in their entire relationship. Sasha once told him she felt bad for you, since you were so helpless. But you weren’t helpless. You were calculating. Oh my god, was everything a manipulation? Was every tear you shed just a carefully planned design to tug on the heartstrings of those around you?

“Did you listen to Tess?” he asks.

You slowly nod your head.

“What did she want?”

“Someone to take care of,” you reply.

Well, shit. You gave Tess what she wanted, didn’t you? And Sasha, what did she want? Probably someone to teach. Raw clay to shape into the huntress she had been taught to be. Based on your performance tonight it looks like that was also a success. He thinks about Amber, bragging about how proud her father Hank was that you were living with them, even if her mother was less than impressed. What were you doing for Hank? Jealousy flares up in his gut, licking like a flame at his insides.

“What about Hank?” he mutters. “What did that holier-than-thou old fool get outta you?”

A sideways smile forms at your mouth at the implication he’s made. You stare dead-eyed at him and let him await your answer, let the possibilities race through his mind, a hot flush creeping up his chest at the idea of another man’s hands on you. After a long pause, you speak.

“A son.”

“A- a what?”

“He had a daughter, made in her mother’s image. He didn’t have a son to work the farm with him.”

“You did that?”

“No,” you laugh to yourself. “But he thought I did.”

“Who did your work if you didn’t?”

“The farmhands,” you shrug. “And before you make another gross insinuation, I didn’t blow them either.”

“And they helped you because…”

“I don’t know,” you sidestep the truth, shoving the last bite of the last pickle in your mouth. You let the sour, salty liquid flood your mouth as you think it over in your head, how much you should tell him, if it’s a secret worth keeping. Finally you come back around to honesty. It doesn’t matter anyways, you don’t live there anymore. “They’re gay... Danny and Diego, they’re gay. They were afraid I’d out them or something so they did all my work for me.”

There it is, more manipulation. You’re like a fucking puppet master, everyone dancing from your hands. Where does it end? Where did it begin, he wonders? He remembers how he found you, clicker on your heels and bleeding out after barely escaping what looked like a hell of a fight. If only you could have convinced the clicker to feel bad for you, it might have been a different outcome.

“Where were you before I found you half-dead at the bottom of a mountain?” Joel asks.

“Why does that matter?”

“I’m curious. You never told me much about your past, but it feels like you wanna open up tonight.”

“That’s not something I’m lookin’ to open up about, Joel. They were very bad people and I was lucky to get away from them.”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “Good thing you escaped.”

“I didn’t-” you pause. “I didn’t exactly escape.”

“What?” His brows knit, deepening the line between them.

“They let some of us go scouting so we could find other places to raid,” you explain.

“And who, may I ask, convinced them of this idea?”

He already knows the answer.

“I might have brought some of the finer points of the plan to the table,” you shrug.

This is it. This is how you’ve survived the last nine years. You refuse to carry a knife, you can barely cook a meal without cutting or burning yourself, he doesn’t even think you can start a fire on your own. But you’ve gotten other people to take care of you, feeding off them like a little parasite, intertwining their survival with your own.

“You’re-”

Genius. Maniacal. Sensational. Devious. Fantastic.

You’re everything he’s been trying to be.

“I’m- …what?” you ask him to finish his thought.

“You’re more like me than you’d like to admit,” he teases.

“I’m nothing like you, Joel. I’m just trying to survive.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do too, baby.”

“Cut that shit,” you slam your hand on the table, the noise reverberating in the silent stillness. “You’re a controlling maniac, lying to people so you can get your dick wet. So you can have women barefoot and pregnant in your kitchen.”

He laughs. That’s not who he is. Maybe the lying part but not the rest of it. You make him so goddamn crazy. He’s had his head in a fog for months, lost in his thoughts of you and now it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time. The new you. No, the you that was apparently always there, the you that you’ve kept hidden from him. Mouthy, capable, and fierce. In your eyes he sees fury and passion. Damp hair tied in a messy little ponytail, dried blood under your nails. Fuck, he doesn’t think he’s ever been more attracted to you.

“I love you,” he blurts out. The first time he’s said those words out loud in nearly a decade.

“That’s not gonna work on me anymore, Joel,” you sigh.

“I’m not tryin’-,” he huffs a deep breath in and out. Then he says quieter, almost to himself, “I shoulda said it before. A lot a’ things I shoulda- shoulda done different.”

“You shoulda said that shit last year,” you chuckle darkly. “I was over the moon for you. Out of my mind… stupid…” You grab a bite of jerky and chew on it slowly. “You know, I spent my whole life being mediocre. Good at some things but never great at anything. Not smart but not stupid, not ugly but not pretty, not useless but certainly not useful. I used to think about my purpose in life and wonder if anyone would remember me after I died. I’d think about if my life meant anything at all to anyone else, if anyone would miss me when I was gone.”

You pause to take another bite. Joel sees another metaphorical wall coming down between you. You continue your thought. “And then… one night I was washing dishes with you, and you told me about your daughter. When you looked at me - the grief in your eyes - I felt your sadness like I was washed in it, like it was poured over me. It wasn’t just your sadness, it was our sadness, like we were soaking in it together. In that moment, with your eyes on mine… I felt like maybe I had a purpose.

I felt like if my purpose was to rescue you from that sadness, then I’d do it. If my purpose was to drown with you in it, then I’d do that too. The more I let you in, the more sure I was of my feelings and the night you went down on me it felt like it was all made clear, everything was revealed. I thought we were united. I thought you felt it too, our bond, my purpose. That maybe I was only put on this earth for you, to be yours. To love you and be loved by you. If that was my purpose; to only live for you, to only matter to you, for you to be the only one to remember me… If true, that would be enough for me.”

Joel watches a single tear fall out of your eye, which you quickly swipe away, muttering stupid again.

“I didn’t know you felt like that,” Joel says, his voice a whisper.

“You knew what you were doing,” you level at him. “You brought me into that house to be just another toy on the shelf. Just another broken girl to add to your collection. You didn’t care about my feelings as long as you had my devotion.”

“I was trying to help you.”

“Stop lying to me Joel. Or are you still lying to yourself? You were helping you. And the worst part was, that after everything you did to me I still felt your hands around my fucking neck when you stood up there with Bianca and your-,” you wipe another tear from your cheek. “Your goddamn baby. You still had me in a chokehold and the shattered pieces of my pathetic broken heart just turned to dust.”

“Bianca’s baby-”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Joel. I can do math, I know it was before I got there but I don’t give a fuck, ‘cuz you’re still a liar. I couldn’t stand to be there for one more day watching you with anyone who wasn’t-”

Me. You stop yourself from finishing your sentence. You’ve spilled enough of your blood on the table. He doesn’t even deserve the honesty you’ve given him, and you’ve given him all of it. You take deep breaths and long quiet stretches out between you.

“I’m an asshole…,” he breaks the silence. “...and a liar.” You make a face that tells him you’re very much not impressed by his admissions.

“I know. You already know. None of it was your fault. You know that too. I’ve been doin’ this for a long time, been usin’ people and doin’ whatever it takes to keep myself from-,” he takes a deep breath. “I pretend it’s to keep me alive but that’s not the only reason. It also keeps me detached from formin’ any real relationships. Keeps me from carin’ about anyone that I could potentially… lose.”

He sees your face melt, just for a moment. Hitting you right in the soft spot you must still have for him deep inside. You shake your head slightly.

“I’m sorry, but… that’s just not an excuse.” you say softly.

“I know. It’s not,” he affirms. “It’s just the why, doesn’t excuse anythin’.”

“Why are you tellin’ me this? It doesn’t change-”

“Bianca’s baby is not mine,” he interrupts.

Your eyes snap directly to his, narrowing in suspicion. He knows this is what seems to bother you the most, even more than his one-night indiscretion with Kerri. It’s the truth but he’s not sure you’ll believe him.

“You don’t honestly expect me to believe your bullshit now, do you?” you toss out, a cruel smirk on your lips.

“I thought she was your friend. She never told you it was mine, did she?”

“No, she-,” you suddenly feel awash with guilt. She didn’t tell you anything. Literally. She hardly ever spoke a word. You think back of all the time you spent together. You were content to sit with her in silence, daydreaming about Joel and assuming her quiet nature meant she was okay not talking about herself. But maybe you just didn’t ask. Turns out you just weren’t a very good friend. “She was pretty quiet,” you finish.

“Yeah, ‘cuz of what she went through,” he says as if you should know.

You shake your head. You have no idea what he means. “I guess we weren’t that close,” you admit.

“She wouldn’t ‘a told you either way. She was basically a mute… PTSD the doc said. We rescued her from some very bad people,” he says, copying your earlier phrase. “They were using women for their bodies, doin’ horrible things… Bianca was pregnant when we found her. She didn’t trust anyone but me ‘n Tess, so we took her in. She was too scared to be touched and I never laid a fuckin’ finger on her, not once.”

You nod your head slowly, absorbing the information he’s provided and replaying things over in your mind.

“Why did she have to leave the house?”

“Tess thought it’d look like it was my baby, that it’d look like I had some kind of ‘harem’ goin’ on at the house.” He meets your eyes and you exchange a knowing glance. “I know, but still, she thought some people wouldn’t like the idea of it, regardless of what was true and what wasn’t. Plus, she said it’d be best if Bianca had a ‘better environment’ to raise the baby in.”

You nod and then a thought pierces your mind like a needle.

“Why… why didn’t you just tell me this the other day when I asked you if it was your baby?”

He looks down, averting himself from your scrutiny.

“I wanted to hurt you,” he whispers.

He’s still looking down so he doesn’t even notice when you jump up and dive across the table, knocking him over in his chair and scrabbling your hands to his neck. You’re screaming at him, telling him he’s an asshole, telling him he ruined you, telling him you hate him. Even though you got the jump on him, he’s easily keeping your hands from squeezing too tight around his neck, gently prying your fingers off and pushing you back off him.

He gets up off the ground, hauling you up with him - thrashing and screeching - pushing you up against a column by your shoulders and waiting for you to calm down. There’s not tears in your eyes anymore, now they’re filled with fire. You grit your teeth and continue to claw at the air, trying to pluck his eyes from his head. He’s apologizing, softly repeating over and over that he’s sorry, saying it so many times that it starts to lose its meaning.

“Hurt me?” you say hoarsely. “All you ever did was hurt me.”

“I know,” he closes his eyes. “I’m sor-”

“I hate you.”

“I deserve it.”

“Fuck you. I hate you,” you seethe.

He lets you go, expecting you to attack him again - which would be justified - but you just stand there with your fists balled and your eyes aflame. Maybe you’d feel better if you hit him, if you made him bleed. Maybe he’d feel better.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I hate you.”

You collide like two stars, your heart orbiting around his until they burn supernova hot. Your cores are drawn together by the laws of the universe until they collapse, creating a black hole where your bodies once existed. All the air in the room disappears, as does every thought and doubt in your mind. Gravity itself seems to fade away until you’re nothing but a weightless void, floating through space or floating underwater. Either way his lips are on your lips and you can’t fucking breathe.

You feel his hands everywhere, hot and rough, grabbing onto your flesh like he’s going to tear pieces off and take them as souvenirs. Your tongue wraps around his, seeking his taste, craving the feel of him. His warmth, his scent, his desire. It’s there, low in your belly, the effervescent feeling of being the object of his affections. You hate him. You miss him. You hate yourself.

You shove your hand down the front of his pants and without preamble, grab his half-hard cock in your hands. Joel jerks away slightly, causing you to lose your grip, your hand slipping out of his jeans. Your faces pull back from each other and you stand there in the moonlit room, staring into each other’s eyes, the only sounds the racing of your heartbeats.

“You don’t want me?” you ask, panting.

“Of course I want you,” Joel answers.

“Then what’s the problem?

“Did you fuck that guy?”

“You think I fucked the stranger who kidnapped me?”

“I heard-”

“He was dead before you heard anything,” you let your words sink in. “Do you want me or not, Joel?”

“You’re all I want.”

“Then take me, Joel. I won’t ask you again.”

Joel grabs you by the back of the neck and pulls your face to his, making you whole again. You go for your own pants this time, unbuttoning and unzipping while he follows your lead and does the same. He pulls back to remove his shirt but you yank him back towards you, biting his lower lip and then licking your tongue across it to soothe him. He responds exactly how you’d hoped, wincing and then retaliating.

He quickly turns you around and pushes you bent over, face down onto the table, yanking your pants below your ass. You’re not wearing underwear and a vision flashes in his mind, the reminder of what happened to your underwear and what you’ve done here tonight. He resists the instinct to look around the room, to survey the carnage. This is inappropriate. This is the end of the world. This is - apparently - what you want.

He grabs your arms and crosses them over your back, your hands resting together at your lower back and with his other hand takes out his cock, now rock-solid and leaking precum. He runs his tip up and down your wet seam a few times before notching himself at your entrance. He doesn’t move his hips forward despite the burning desire to do little else. He leans over your back, bringing his mouth to your ear and gives it a few gentle kisses before you try and shrug him off of you.

“Let’s go already, what are you waiting for?” you goad him.

“Do you want this?” he whispers, placing another kiss just behind your ear, his stubble brushing your neck and causing you to shiver.

“Come on. You waitin’ around for me to change my mind?”

You try to move your hands, to reach for him, but he holds you in a firm grip.

“Tell me you want me,” Joel huffs in your ear, no more than a murmur.

“Shut up and fuck me already-”

“Please,” he begs.

“I want you to fuck me Joel, please just fuck me,” you drag out the last word as he pushes himself into you.

Every shallow thrust of his hips drives him deeper until he’s finally home, his hips meeting your backside in perfect harmony. You feel fucking amazing.

“This cunt is so fucking perfect,” he grits his teeth, head tilted back and speaking to the ceiling.

He lets go of your arms and grabs the flesh at your hips with both hands, pulling out and slamming himself back in. You reach back and clutch the edge of the table and he takes it as his sign to set a rough pace, slamming himself into you again and again, driven on by your satisfied moans. He leans over you again, puts one hand down on the table next to your head and tangles his other hand into your hair, pulling back your head to expose your neck to him.

“Tell me again,” he commands. “Tell me you want me.”

He runs his lips down your neck, nipping your tender flesh with his teeth when you don’t answer.

“Fuck,” you yelp. “I want it Joel. Give it to me,” you repeat the last sentence over and over, babbling into the table.

He places more kisses on your neck, down to your shoulders and across the top of your back before he stands back up resuming his thrusts, gentle at first. He feels you squeezing his cock as tight as a fist, feels your wetness coating him, mixing in the coarse hairs at the base of him. He grabs your hips again, driving himself harder into your center, feeling what you denied him all this time. This is what he’s needed, what he’s wanted for so long. You. You and him. This is how it was meant to be. He’s half out of his mind, grunting, wishing he could keep doing this forever, knowing he’s not going to last much longer.

He can’t wait to get you home and have you in his bed, can’t wait to properly have his way with you. He’s going to lie you down and lick you until you shake, to fuck you until you can’t walk. He’s going to take his time with you, make you come, make you scream, make you cry, make you forgive him, make you love him again. The thought nearly drives him over the edge and he lets out a long whine as he stutters his hips, quickly grabbing the base of his cock to stop his release.

“You close, baby?”

“Don’t stop,” you reply.

“I know but I’m gonna-,” he moves his hips again, slowly at first, feeling your fluttering cunt around him. God, you’re gonna be the death of him. “Are you close? Do you need me to-”

He lifts your hips up with his left hand and moves his right hand to snake under you, to rub circles around your clit the way he knows you like except you slap his hand away before he can get it under you.

“Don’t-” you snap. “Just keep going.”

You feel him grab you firmly back at your hips and resume his thrusts. He resumes grunting and groaning, muttering filth to himself about your perfect cunt and how you were made for each other. You bear down, grabbing the table edge harder and squeezing his cock in a tight clench. A noise begins in the back of his throat and builds as it comes out of him as a wail. He must be about to come. One of you should.

Not you. This feels good but this isn’t intimacy. This isn’t love. This isn’t forgiveness. This is goodbye.

Joel’s hips come to a halt and he moans over you, cursing and shouting noises you’ve never heard him make before. He’s muttering apologies in your ear, repeating that he loves you, the same shit over and over. You’re half-worried he’s going to start crying.

Joel steps back, pulling out of you slowly to admire his spend spilling out of you, unable to temper the fascination of marking you as his. This isn’t about that, the rational part of him thinks, this is so much more than that. He reaches out to help you up off the table but you’ve already pushed yourself up and are pulling your pants back up over your hips. Joel does the same, a satisfied grin plastered on his face when you turn around to face him.

“Your guns are in the kitchen,” you say. “In the freezer.”

“Oh- thanks,” he murmurs, feeling the awkwardness of the deliberate topic change.

“Are you heading out now or are you gonna wait ‘till sunrise?”

“Am I-,” a shadow is cast over his face at your wording. “What do you mean am I heading out now, why wouldn’t we walk back together?”

“Because we’re going in opposite directions.”

What the fuck? He can’t help the gamut of emotions that run across his face, exposing his vulnerability to you. Confusion, Anger, Pain. Oh, the pain. You’re rejecting him, again. All the walls that fell down over the last several hours were just built back up - and in fact - built back up while you were fucking him. How did you do that? Why did you do that?

He didn’t think you forgave him but he thought this was going to be a new chapter, that you were letting him back in and giving him another chance. Does he deserve it? Maybe not but he would do anything to get it. Anything. Give you anything, give up anything. But you never even intended to give him a chance.

You-

Did you even come?

He reaches out to you but you pull back, increasing the distance between you.

“Baby-” he whines.

“Stop it,” you say, voice even. “Nothing changed Joel.”

“But… we had sex,” he whimpers, and as it leaves his mouth he hears how pathetic he sounds.

“It’s not a big deal, Joel,” you say, mirroring the words he once said to you when you’d caught him giving himself to any willing mouth on their knees.

God, he underestimated you.

He had no idea how strong you were, how fucking hard you could grab his heart and rip it to shreds.

“Please,” he begs. “Wait… Just- please.”

“Goodbye, Joel,” you say, grabbing your empty pack off the table and brushing past him towards the door.

He grabs your arm as you pass him, placing your palm over his heart. He doesn’t speak but when you look into his eyes you see tears spilling out over his cheeks.

“I gave you everything you ever wanted Joel, how can you ask for more?”

“I need-”

“You need to let me go. In fact, I’ll give you the last piece of the puzzle.” You pull your hand back from him and take a step backwards, towards the door. You speak your name. The one you never gave him. The piece of you that you kept to yourself. A name only spoken by people who loved you, by people who are dead now. The name you wanted him to earn. It hangs between you in the screaming silence. “Now you have everything. You’ve taken every last piece of me. So just fucking let me go.”

You take another tentative step backwards and when he doesn’t move, you turn on your heels and walk out the door, grabbing the rifle off the lawn where you’d dropped it, and jogging off into the coming dawn.

---

The birds start singing before you see the sunrise peeking over the horizon. There are clouds moving in from the west and judging by the smell in the air, you’d guess rain is coming. You can weather the storm, your canteen is full and your pack is heavy. You’d found another summer camp at a different lake further south and were able to scavenge some supplies to help you in your journey.

You briefly thought about Sasha, and how she would be proud of the way you found a tarp and a bungee cord and immediately thought it would make a good raincoat, or the way that you checked the barn to find edible oats when the kitchen pantry had already been picked over. The old you never would have thought of those things.

You’re walking just in the treeline and past the overgrown grass you can see the road to your left, an abandoned vehicle scattered here and there, but otherwise empty. And still. It’s so quiet out here, the air is almost heavy with the silence. You turn down a country road as the clouds move in, attempting to go around a village ahead and avoid the chance of meeting with any more unwanted company. As the sky turns gray and the damp moves in, you spot a covered bridge on the road ahead, not an uncommon sight in these scenic New England towns.

Just as the first fat raindrop hits your head, you duck under the cover of the bridge and take a few steps into the dark. You shrug your pack off your back and begin to fish out the tarp you’d tucked away so you can cover yourself from the incoming downpour. You don’t hear any noise above the splatter of rain on the old bridge’s roof but you feel a sharp pain at the side of your skull and the world goes black.

---

Joel eases you to the ground once you slump backwards into his waiting arms. He sees some dark drops hitting the ground, running off from your temple. He rips off a strip of his shirtsleeve to wrap around your head. He swung too hard. He didn’t want to hurt you but he had to be sure to incapacitate you, he had to be sure you wouldn’t take off on him again. You’ll be alright, he’ll take you to the doc when you get back and get you all patched up. Maybe he’ll even read to you while you heal up. He still has that copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide in his desk drawer. It’ll be just like old times.

He brushes your hair out of your eyes and says your name, kissing your forehead.

“I already told you baby, you can’t run from me.”

🖤

I miss you Iris 💐 Thank you for helping with this series. Thank you SO MUCH to my darling Beef and Bug for helping me to edit this bad boy. Cult Joel (CJ) loves you!!

no taglists going forward - follow @nox-notifs & turn on notifs🫶

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @pinkypromisepascal @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh @elegantduckturtle @koshkaj-blog @vickie5446 @lilipads

#devotion series #cult leader joel miller #noxturnalpascal #ofc!reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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apomaro-mellow · 6 months ago

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I feel like Steddie with 29 on the date ideas list would go so hard

playing paintball as a team or against each other

"Sure you don't wanna come?", Steve asked as Jonathan pulled up to the place.

"Preeeetty sure", Jonathan answered as Will and Mike bolted from the backseat. "I'm gonna hang back with Argyle."

Steve got out just as Eddie drove up, his van exploding with more children, ready to gear up and start the game. Eddie was just as riled up as the kids and Steve contemplated sticking with Argyle and Jon but then Eddie swung an arm around his waist and brought him inside and the decision was made.

"You and Eddie can't be on the same team, it's unfair", Dustin said.

"Are you really gonna play the helpless kid card now, Henderson?", Eddie rolled his eyes.

"It's because you two are dating, unfair advantage right there", Lucas said.

"So why are you and Max on the same team?", Steve countered.

"Because I made it clear what's gonna happen if he shoots me in the face with a paintball", Max said.

Lucas nodded. "Nuff said."

Eddie shook his head. "And you think I'll still be getting some from Steve if I manage to hit him?"

"Please don't talk about 'getting some' from Steve", Mike scowled.

"And who said you can land one on me anyway?", Steve challenged.

And so the teams were decided: Dustin, Steve, Max, and Lucas on one team versus Eddie, Mike, Will, and Erica.

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

They say that all is fair in love and war. They don't have as many poignant sayings for when your love is in the war. I never wanted my darling to step foot on the battlefield. But I especially didn't want to see him on the side of the enemy.

What was one to do when their countries were on opposite sides of an armed conflict? Romeo and Juliet, indeed.

"Eddie, dude, quit monologing, you'll blow our cover", Mike hissed under his breath.

"Ah, but stories from the trenches are full of love-lorn heroes."

Before Mike could complain more, Erica came over. "Enemy spotted to the west. It's time to move."

The three of them got up and Mike took point. They heard a rustling to the left and Erica and Mike went after it. Eddie almost did too, but he heard someone coming up from behind. He turned quickly, paint gun raised at the ready, only to see Steve.

"Well? Aren't you going to shoot?", Steve asked, his own gun aimed and ready. "All that talk about landing one on me..."

"My love, do you think me so callous that I could shoot you without a second thought? And what about you? Why haven't you pulled the trigger yet?"

Steve didn't answer immediately. "...Call me a sentimental fool." Then he lowered his gun. "I can't shoot the man I love either."

Eddie slowly lowered his as well. "What has this war done to us?"

Steve took a step forward. "I-"

Pew.

Steve blinked and looked down as the blue paint spread on his vest. They both heard a triumphant cry from Will before he ran off. Steve looked back up at Eddie as he fell to his knees. Eddie caught him in his arms before Steve could hit the ground.

"Stay with me! Stay with me!"

"I'm sorry Eddie...I can't....I see a light..."

"My love! Steve! Nooooooo!!!!"

Eddie felt three bullets hit him in the back but he continued to scream out for Steve.

"I got you a bunch of times already, get off the field!", Max shouted.

Date prompts

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #the party #i love writing faux drama scenes

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munsonsprincess11111 · 1 year ago

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Our loves simple

Eddie munson x reader

Summary: Nancy and Jonathan are sat at the hellfire lunch table arguing. You and Eddie come walking over completely oblivious to what's going on. But that's when the gang work out after dating for as along as you 2 have they've never seen you fight.

"OH well you could pretend to care."

"I do care Jonathan god what is wrong eith you today."

The 2 fight like cat and dog hellfire watching the argument unfold. They then see you and Eddie come through the cafeteria doors. Your in Eddie's back laughing looking like your holding on for dear life as Eddie approaches the hellfire table.

"And we have arrived at your destination your highness." Eddie says letting you slip off his back. You were complaining about your shoes hurting your feet so Eddie told u to get in his back while in the halls. You kiss his cheek and sit next to him. When Eddie sits he pulls your chair next to him. Opening his lunch box snd putting his arm around your shoulder.

"What are they fighting about?" Eddie askes the table as he offers u a grape. Everyone shrugs not to sure themselves. Eddie nods putting his attention back on you.

"Eddie y/n when was the last time u had an argument?" Jonathan askes ignoring Nancy. She looks pissed.

"I dunno 3 months ago?" Eddie replies not sure himself. Jonathan looks at Nancy. The 2 had been fighting a lot recently. Only small things they'd make up in minutes but still a lot. "We've never seen Eddie and y/n fight." Gareth states from thr end of the table.

"That's cause our arguments are either screaming matches or one of us cry." Eddie says smirking.

"And we just don't fight. Last time we had an argument was because some guy tried to slop me his number. I rejected him but someone was still pissed." You finally speak up then eating one of Eddie's grapes.

"Now that was a screaming match. And you won." Eddie shrugs stating.

Everyone at the table looks at Jonathan and Nancy who are arguing over Jonathan's test score as he claimed Nancy didn't care. The pair looked at eachother and mumbled an apology.

"Wait a guy slipped you his number?" Gareth askes. You nod not wanting to talk about it. Remembering how pissed Eddie was. Eddie then sits back crossing his arms over his chest no linger having an arm around you.

"Look its no big deal it was ages ago I rejected him and were fine now OK?" You say with a huff.

"Right all of you fuckers stop it. We're not gonna fight. It was ages ago leave it or it'll be you lot ill be fighting with got it Mike." Eddie says leaning forward looking at Mike who try to continue bringing it up. He nods looking at his food.

Eddie slouches back then putting a hand on your shoulder and pulling you back in your chair so your next to him wrapping an arm around you reassuringly kissing your head. You melt into his touch knowing everything's fine. Your hands join and rest on Eddie's thigh.

"Remind me why we keep sitting with these prices instead of in the woods or my van." Eddie whispers to you kissing your head. You giggle and look at him. You look at him like he's the inly person in the world and he melts. He kisses your lips softly and smiles.

"Jonathan say sorry to Nancy properly for staring a petty argument." Eddie says looking back to your friends.

"M sorry Nancy for starting a petty argument. I love you n i won't do it again." Jonathan says looking at Nancy.

"Nance your turn" You say putting your head on Eddie's shoulder.

"I'm sorry Jonathan for not acting like I care I'm very proud of you you did awesome." She says smiling at him shyly.

Jonathan hugs Nancy and she hugs him back. "Cool right now can we have a normal fucking lunch with no arguments and no one getting in my relationship business?" Eddie askes looking at everyone at the table

Everyone agrees. Just as things settle Jason carver approaches with two of his minion friends. "Sup freaks." HE says smirking.

"Fuck sake one day. One day I will have a normal lunch. Hi Jason what will it be today? Cheap insults that I manage to make you shrivel up into a ball too? Or one of us throwing a fist which results in me running ad your minions chase me down?" Eddie says clearly pissed off

He keeps his arm over your shoulder letting go of your hand running it over his face. "You really like that y/n there are plenty of guys who like u in this school. Ditch the freak look at him." Jason says pointing at Eddie who's staring at him.

You turn your head and look at Eddie. "Your hot just saying." You say to eddie so Jason and his friends can hear. Eddie looks down at you smirking kissing your head. "Jason fuck off. No one here's interested in u or your small cock." You say sitting up straighter.

The boy looks stunned by your words. "Fucking freaks. All of ya." Jason mumbles. Before anyone knows it Eddie's up walking over to Jason. But he's running off with his friends before Eddie reaches him.

"Funny thought he wanted to have a chat." Eddie says stood where Jason once was. He looks over at you. "I fucking love you ya weirdo." HE says walking back around to you.

"I love you too ya freak." You say as he sits next to you. "Your words wound me sweet thing thought you loved me." HE says placing a hand over his heart.

"Fuckung he'll Eddie that nickname isn't sticking we've been over this." You smile saying while rolling your eyes.

"And like I said your sweet and my favourite thing. It's sticking" he mumbles eating another grape.

"NIT getting into this." You laugh and gwt up kissing Eddie's head walking off.

"Don't leave me with them. Babe please." HE calls behind u. Eddie then gets up grabbing his tin box running over to you. Wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and spinning. The table watch as you take Eddie's lunch box off him and he crouches for you to get on his back. Before he's walking goofing eith you in his back you laughing and screaming.

There's one word to describe how Eddie feels about you. Love. There's one word to describe how you feel about Eddie. Love. And it will be like that forever.

#eddie m #eddie munson thoughts #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x yn #eddie smut #eddie x reader #eddie x you #rockstar eddie munson #eddie my beloved #eddie stranger things

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summerlycoris · 1 year ago

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I have some thoughts about Movie!Vanessa's behavior on night 4.

Yknow. The night where they build the big pillow fort, foreshadow the springlock suit Abby nearly gets shoved into later. The night where Abby gets electrocuted, and where Vanessa threatens to shoot Mike.

(If anything is wrong here, it's because while I just got back from watching the movie in cinemas again, I can't go scene by scene because I don't have Peacock. And I'm not getting it just for the fnaf movie. Not even sure if Peacock is in Australia?)

I've seen people complain that Vanessa's behavior on this night is too... inconsistent. She goes from suggesting using tables for a giant pillow fort, to telling off Mike for bringing his sister, to consoling Abby after the shock, to threatening to shoot Mike.

But I don't think this is inconsistent. Because there's a common thread in all the scenes where Vanessa's keeping calm.

Abby.

Whenever Abby is there, she plays along with her suggestions, or tries to comfort her when things go wrong.

It's only when Abbys not around or cant notice whats going on, when it's only her and Mike, that Vanessa drops the act and says something real- Don't touch that, it's a springlock suit. You're the one who brought her here. Don't bring her back.

And I think the reason why is just very simple- she doesn't want to scare Abby, because Abby's just a little kid who doesn't have much control over whether they spend the night at Freddys.

If she's scared of a place that she has to stay in (say, because her brother brought her to try and talk to ghost children. And he's outright admitted this to you), and can't leave because. She's like eight and her brother's on the clock- that would be a really fucking cruel thing to do. Abby doesn't have much control over whether she's at Freddys or not. She can cry, or scream. But if Mike doesn't want to go home, she can't either. Not easily.

(At least, as far as either Mike or Vanessa would know at the time. Apparently Abby knows how to catch a taxi with minimal help.)

If you isolate the "playing along" she does with Abby, from how she talks to Mike, the inconsistency goes away.

Just focusing on Mike and Vanessa's dialogue- you can see the tension ramping up slowly. Things starts out okay until the springlock suit. Tension rises. She gets defensive when Mike tries to blame her for not telling him about these dangerous things earlier. (And she has a point- she's not the one who took Abby here.) Tension rises again. Then Abby gets shocked. Vanessa consoles her, but glares at Mike over Abbys shoulder. Next scene is the "If you dare bring her back here, I'll shoot you." Scene. The tension had been going up in a steady diagonal all night, if you understand that Vanessa's putting on an act around Abby.

I don't know what else to say so I guess I'm ending it here. Tldr- Vanessa seems "inconsistent" because she's trying to stay calm around a child. That's why she only really goes off on Mike when their alone together on night 4.

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf movie spoilers #five nights at freddys

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dana-chan-the-control-brain · 1 year ago

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Fnaf Movie thoughts!

I wanted to ramble some of thoughts and theories I had about the Fnaf Movie.

Cause the brainrot is real and won't leave my brain.

(wow just read back that sentence. Excuse any grammar errors or dumb shit, I'm still very sick)

Below the cut will feature heavy spoilers, so unless you want to be spoiled of the major twists this movie has, I would recommend wait to read this.

I unfortunately couldn't see the movie in my theatres, cause I got horribly sick and wasn't able to get the full theatre experience.

I was able to watch on Peacock, with all my fnaf plushies with a super sinus clogged headache, so that's the mindset I had. lol

Anyway.. Movie time

I absolutely LOVED Mike and Abby. First off.

I didn't even mind a lot of time of the movie was spent AWAY from Freddy's. Because so much is just about learning about Mike and his family and connection to Abby.

Sure, we could have spent the WHOLE movie at Freddy's. But that is not what this movie is about. And it's clearly trying to tell a bigger mystery and this felt a very introduction friendly entry point to anyone confused about the fnaf lore.

I love how completely obsessed Mike is with Dream theory. To the point he's taking heavy duty sleeping pills on his job that he clearly doesn't need and just is doing it so he can relive his dreams/fabricated memories.

The intro credits with the 8-bit style graphics of the minigames in fnaf2-4??? Like bro? I cried. That was so iconic and they fill in the backstory for the purple guy, who actually appears as his sprite??? Like... Man iconic.

Also... Dude... Mike Schmitt in the movie is like... what the Fans wanted Mike in the games to be for YEARS. Like... Mike in the games is nothing. He's a silent face. We know so little about him, and everything else is purely speculative. Even the whole "he was foxy bro and has regret over his brother" ...That's all theory and not confirmed. As far as we know, Crying child and his brother might not even be Afton kids.

But this Mike is EXACTLY the motivations we wanted Mike to have? If that makes sense? He laments his brother was taken at a young age and expresses regret and motivation to want to get him back. he has the motivations that the fandom built for him for years and ran with it, and I LOVE THAT.

FNAF Movie actually gives good reasons why Mike comes back every night, as said in Living Tombstone's iconic song "why do you want to stay?" Cause of his regrets with his brother and his obsession with dream theory and doesn't realize the animatronics are a threat until like... night four.

THE ANIMATRONICS?? THE PUPPETS??? THEY LOOK SO GOOD??? HECK YEAH!!!!

I SCREAMED when I recognized Matpat's voice, and then I saw his face. Reconized him for his voice WAY before I saw his face. I didn't think he'd have a speaking or face cameo and get to say his iconic "it's just a theory" line and about food too??? King shit.

Letting the animatronics have moments where they can just be cute and friendly as well as creepy and bloodthirsty is so great! I want to give them all pets.

THE CHILD ACTORS ARE ALL SO GOOD! To the point you don't even notice! It's often hard to get children to play a convincing performance, but these children acted really well! They must have a real talented director who knew how to get the best of their child actors. You don't even realize that the child actors are great, cause they're so good it's unnoticeable. AMAZING

VANESSA BEING WILLIAM AFTON'S DAUGHTER IS NOTHING SHORT OF BRILLIANT!!!!

I MEAN, I SCREAMED WHEN SHE SAID "William Afton My father"

I was screaming about this in my group chat.

I was screaming for a thousand years.

AND IT makes sense why the cops never found the bodies. Vanessa is a cop! She's covering for her father!

I absolutely LOVE what a girl failure Vanessa is too!

Like she shows up, HEAVILY flirts with Mike (like she was laying it on so thick my demisexual ass was picking up on her vibe) and just shows up to give him exposition on the FNAF lore. fheogheahf. Like. It's great.

(no doubt she was flirting heavily with Mike at the start due to manipulation from her father, I do believe it grows to genuine fondness later)

I've heard people complain about her flipflop nature... BUT THAT's the POINT!

(a literal arcade game in security breach.)

She let Abby play with the animatronics, knowing it was dangerous. Her original plan was to kill Mike, but she changes her plans when she sees he has a kid. (who she thought was his daughter at first) It was only after Abby got injured by Accident, she realized that what a danger she posed by brining them here at all. She only threatened to shoot Mike because she hoped that such an extreme threat would get him to quit. She even tells him about how many security guards quit. But it doesn't.

She even said she tried to warn in her own way. She's terrified of her father. And we get deep foreshadowing about that throughout the movie.

I really hope that in some sequels we will get to see Vanny at some point. Maybe even Springtrap and Vanny working together in the same movie??? CAN YOU IMAGINE THIS?!?!? I WOULD GO FERAL

Anyway, Vanessa is such a girl failure and my girl blorbo. I support her and her woman's wrongs

The minor look of regret after Will stabs his daughter... peak cinema.

The springlock scene... The quiet of the stabs, giving such a realistic collapse... the "I always come back" ...Embracing the monster he knows he is. He is the mask. He isn't hiding behind the mask, like he is being Steve. he is the mask now. Just... Chefs kiss.

The animatronics dragging springtrap away mirrors the ending of Silver Eyes so well, and I'm glad, because that was the best part of the Silver eyes. <3

THE LIVING TOMBSTONE GOT TOP BILLING FOR THE FIRST CREDITS SONG! PERFECT

Garret is 100% going to be the Puppet in the Movie Series. He was the one taken in the car, the spelling out in the minigame sounds at the very end says: "COME FIND HIM" And after Living Tombstone ends, the credits music fades into Grandfather's clock music box... Puppet's song..... Garret will be the Puppet in this universe and I so look forward to that.

I enjoyed the movie. I'm glad that they left the overarching mystery of Garret open to be explored in the sequel.

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf movie spoilers #danachan's rants

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crepesuzette2023 · 1 year ago

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Beatles Books as vaguely defined friends and relatives at a party you attend with a new crush, whose name you keep mispronouncing.

The longer you stay, the more trouble you have remembering what the occasion was.

The lights keep changing. Shortly after you arrived, your crush shrunk to the size of a mouse, and scurried away. You’re on your own.

The Beatles (Bob Spitz) greets you, an attractive silver fox who seems to be shunned by most of the others. You wonder why. It’s as easy to imagine him as a crying wreck as it is to imagine him on a golf course. Here, There, and Everywhere (Geoff Emerick) disrupts your musings by pulling tapes from his mouth. Seeing your discomfort, he stops and hands you a photograph of John Lennon and Paul McCartney singing into the same microphone. As he does, his pupils take on the shape of hearts. Someone called George announces his intent to poison him.

Anthology (The Beatles) saunters in, puts eight arms around you, and promises to tell you the whole story. They proceed to speak in tongues, and throw popcorn at you. Stu Sutcliffe jumps from a pendant around their neck, lands on the floor, and scurries after your crush.

“It’s always like this,” says Body Count (Francie Schwartz). “I assume you don’t want to listen to my story about a gifted woman who got locked up for depression? That’s fine, I can also talk about frottage, and a certain man’s curves.”

“Oh, stop it,” says John (Cynthia Lennon). She turns to you. “My advice is: Turn around and run as fast as you can.” She demonstrates what she means by disappearing, leaving behind a purse filled with cheerful letters and drawings of herself getting married and giving birth. Everything smells of olive oil. Francie spots Loving John (May Pang), and rushes to her, greedy for gossip. Loving John (May Pang) is everyone’s favorite, because she doesn’t really know anyone very well, but she knows how to make everyone feel comfortable by saying things that make sense in the moment.

Living the Beatles Legend: The Mal Evans Story (Ken Womack) ends up taking her home; they both live at The Fringes. Her home is a little further than his, which is just this side of Weird whereas she’s all the way in Montauk, but he’ll make sure she gets there safely.

To make up for the disappearance of your crush, Remember (Mike McCartney) cuts your hair. Each snip of the scissors slots a black-and-white picture into your field of vision. Windows in time blow noise and heat in your face, and visions of a screaming band that looks a bit like the young Beatles. Then there’s the quiet heat of summer, towels rippling on the line, and a drain pipe screwed to the wall of a house. He talks about childhood, and you’re almost there, but you never will be, because he won’t let you in. His more verbose twin, The Macs (Mike McCartney), recites letters his brother and John wrote from Hamburg, but you can barely understand what he says, because he stuffed a tissue into his mouth.

“It’s only a story,” says The Lyrics (Paul McCartney). “Pleased to meet you. I’m a storyteller myself.” He sings a love song. “I must have thought about these things when I wrote it,” he muses. “Interesting. What a mind, as Linda used to say.”

He tears a few pages from a diary he kept in Paris in 1961 and hands them to you without comment.

At this point, the party is dissolving. Crocheted furniture floats away and stretches.

“Am I too late?” Skywriting by Word of Mouth (John Lennon) squeezes himself out of the lowest drawer of an antique desk, where, judging from by his crinkly pajamas, he slept. “I’m in pieces. Mend me with glue.”

“I will, I will!” Tune In—All These Years, Vol I (Mark Lewisohn) yells ecstatically. “I’m so glad you could make it Sit down with me and celebrate the heritage of Liverpool.”

Skywriting drapes himself around Tune In, who starts purring and rutting against him.

“Excuse me?” It’s The Fifth Beatle: The Brian Epstein Story (Vivek Tiwary), torero boots clicking on the invisible floor as he strides towards the couch. A spotlight follows him. “I’m managing this show, and I insist on expanding the scene.” Around them, a hotel room forms.

Skywriting lights a cigarette. “Join us in bed, Bri.”

“Yes,” moans Tune In. “I’m so lonely. I’m the oldest of a triplet, or so they say, but the other two haven’t been born yet.”

The Fifth Beatle sits down and observes the unhinged biography losing himself in the friction of rubbing against the shapeshifting Skywriting. Finally, things reach a conclusion.

“And so,” says The Fifth Beatle, “what partially was, finished.”

“Stop repeating lines from a bad movie, Brian," says Skywriting, "you’re better than that.”

As you try to plot ways to escape through the skylight, The McCartney Legacy, Vol 1 (Sinclair & Kozinn) slides out from under the bed, a broad-shouldered lady in a bright red dress. A half-hatched alien with long legs and sunglasses squirms between her breasts, and makes mouth percussion sounds.

“Gentlemen.” The McCartney Legacy retrieves a very, very long rosary from her pocket. “Is anyone interested in an exquisitely crafted, finely wrought chronology?”

At the sound of the word “chronology,” The Beatles (Hunter Davies) crashes through the ceiling.

“Don’t fall for it!” The Beatles snatches the vocalizing baby alien from The McCartney Legacy’s chest, and kills it by wringing its neck. “Time stopped in 1968. The only valid extension are my own salacious additions. Strictly off the record.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” says The Fifth Beatle.

You exchange a glance with Skywriting, who is plucking pieces of Tune In from his body like children snatch pieces of dough, and sticking them in his mouth.

A camera clicks.

“Excellent.”

The Eyes of the Storm (Paul McCartney) lowers the camera, and changes into a suntanned, gleaming likeness of George Harrison. Then he changes into a fish.

“Everyone looking at the pictures will think they know,” the fish says. “They’ll have no idea!”

The floor dissolves under you. You fall into a pool, just in time to save your crush from being sucked into the drain, and after a barely audible edit you find yourself back home, with no memories at all, the taste of chewing gum in your mouth, and wearing matching tops saying, I visited Fellini’s Satyricon, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt. (ETA: I can't believe I forgot about Dreaming the Beatles (Rob Sheffield). I guess I'll have to include him in the inevitable sequel to this...thing, as the +1 of John and Paul: A Love Story in Songs (Ian Leslie).)

#Beatle books #the beatles #just me writing #my fic #(sort of)

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steddieasitgoes · 2 years ago

Text

Inspired by the tags I left on @phoenicae poll about our favorite way Eddie didn't die.

I know we all headcanon Steve being the one to carry Eddie out of the Upside Down when they make it back in time after defeating Vecna but consider:

Steve's own body is giving out on him. He's bleeding through the makeshift bandages Nancy fitted him with from all the running they've done getting back to Forest Hills. He's woozy and lightheaded and relying too much on Robin to keep him upright as they finally make it through the woods and spot Dustin and Eddie in the distance.

Dustin is crying, yelling about how Eddie still has a pulse and they can't leave him here, and Steve tries his best to suck up his own pain. Tells Dustin he'll get Eddie back through, but when he bends down to hoist Eddie up, his own knees give out and his vision blacks out.

There's more yelling and pulling, and before Steve knows it, he's being fully supported by Robin. Dustin hobbling behind them.

"We can't leave Eddie," he shouts, glancing over his shoulder as Robin guides him to Eddie's trailer door.

"Nancy's got him, come on!" she shouts, pulling him faster.

And then there's Nancy.

So-called priss Nancy Wheeler.

Nancy Wheeler, who lost Barb, her best friend, to the Upside Down three years ago.

Nancy Wheeler, who lost her classmate and friend Fred days ago because of the Upside Down.

Nancy Wheeler, who just spent several days keeping Eddie safe from a misguided witchhunt that is all the Upside Down's fault.

The same Nancy Wheeler who shot rounds and rounds of bullets through the monster controlling the Upside Down minutes ago.

Nancy Wheeler has been here before.

She's seen what the Upside Down does to a person.

Knows first-hand what it does to the people who get to escape while others don't.

Nancy Wheeler has lived with survivor's guilt for three fucking years.

And she's not going to let Dustin, her favorite of Mike's friends, have to learn what that survivor's guilt feels like.

She's not going to let another one of her friends die because of this place.

Not on her watch.

So, she drops to her knees and gets to work. Stars ripping her shirt to wrap around the worse of Eddie’s wounds, hoping it’ll keep some of the blood in. Eddie winces in pain and it’s the most beautiful sound Nancy’s ever heard because it means he’s still alive.

“Come on, Eddie. Stay with me okay?”

She’s left in just her bra when she finishes bandaging him up as best she can. His blood is already soaking through the cotton material and she can hear Robin shouting for her from inside the trailer.

There’s no time to waste.

She takes a deep breath, plants her feet and slowly hoists Eddie into her arms. His screams are defending but she tunes them out, running towards the trailer with all the energy she has left in her.

“M’sorry, I thought you were a priss,” Eddie chokes out, blood oozing from his mouth. “You’re b-b-badass.”

“You’re pretty badass yourself,” she says as she takes the stairs to the trailer two at a time. “Maybe when all this is done we can be badass together.”

Eddie hums noncommittally as his eyes start to flutter and Nancy kicks herself into high gear. She manages to get him to clasp his hands around her neck, positions him so he’s on her back and starts climbing the rope. When they flip through, Nancy makes sure to turn their bodies so she absorbs the brunt of the fall, Eddie falling limply on her back with little protest.

Nancy only has a moment to catch her breath before the door flies open and she’s following a dying Eddie into the back of an ambulance. Robin and Dustin piling into the ambulance for Steve.

Days later when Hopper asks Nancy how the hell she carried Eddie through a gate in the ceiling, she shrugs.

“I guess it’s like those moms who lift cars off their kids. I just did it.”

“It’s because she’s badass,” Eddie supplies instead. “Badass Nancy Wheeler.”

#inspired by my tags on that poll yesterday #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson #eddie munson ficlet #robin buckley #dustin henderson #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #platonic ednancy #dani writes

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schumigrace · 1 year ago

Text

My life will, quite literally, never be the same.

I moved to the motorsport county for a multitude of reasons, but having Silverstone on my doorstep was at the top of the list.

The mileage counter in my beaten-up racing green Vauxhall has racked up most of it's digits on the A43 through Towcester, I can tell you the exact position of every road sign painted with a brown rectangle, a chequered flag next to the word "Silverstone". I could tell you which direction the track is in from anywhere in the world, as if it's Wing shaped roof hangs like a petrol-laden North Star. All roads lead to Silverstone, you may say (no-one has ever said this)

So, Grace, I hear you asking, how often do you go?

Never.

That is, of course, until I received an email from God herself (the Aston Martin F1 Team Marketing Analyst) informing me of my invitation to their AMR24 Launch. An invitation I very obviously accepted, after 24 hours worth of crying, screaming, and stalking said marketing analyst on LinkedIn to make sure this was not in fact some messed up kind of joke

So it's 7 in the morning, I'm doing my usual commute through the god-awful traffic hell that is Northamptonshire, only this time I'm not going straight ahead on the Silverstone Bypass, I am taking the ever elusive right turn into the brand new Aston Martin Technology Centre and being handed a visitor's pass

The first thing I notice is that they've only gone and put a bloody AMR23 (with the new livery) right in the middle of the lobby, it's covered up at this point, and I'm staring daggers through the cover just daring it to be riddled with carbon fibre underneath. AMR team members are floating around like green angels everywhere I look, shelves are adorned with this past year's trophies (I make a comment to a passing team member - "you'll need more shelves after this year", she chuckles and moves on - I try not to take this is a bad sign)

8 o'clock hits, the official launch video plays, and the cover is removed. jesus fucking christ she's green. thank fuck. I can go home now.

Oh, hang on, is that Mike Krack?

Shit it is.

Mike has a shakedown to run of course, so he doesn't hang around for too long. He's confident in this car though, they've been working on it for years, and he's sure we'll be quick out of the gate. Off he goes across the road to the garage. "Don't worry," they say, "you'll be going over to watch the cars on track too."

Sorry, can you repeat that please, I believe you just said we are going to go over to the track to watch the cars.

"Yes of course, but not before we ply you with cake and coffee, naturally, oh and also Pedro De La Rosa is here along with Jessica Hawkins. Do you want to chat to them?"

I ask Pedro where he and Fernando went to dinner last night. Somewhere in Oxford I think, I stopped listening, I was thinking about how much I would be willing to be a thir-

Anyway.

At this point no photos are allowed for the rest of the day, they are literally building the car right in front of you no you cannot put that on social media.

We're heading across the road now, along the Hamilton straight and up around Stowe, we head past the Porsche Experian Centre and I make some vague comment about Webbonso that nobody picks up on. Nevermind. We turn left just before Maggots and Becketts to head towards the pit lane, and into the Aston Martin garage.

The smell of petrol is so overwhelmingly strong and I make sure every single cell of my lungs is scarred from it. A batak machine is being set up and I joke "wouldn't it be funny if someone beat Jenson Button's world record today". Someone did, not even 5 minutes later. A wave of "get Jenson on the phone!" fills the garage.

I turn around, Stoffel Vandoorne and Felipe Drugovich are on a stage talking about how exciting it is to see the car, or at least they're trying to look excited. I'm not sure Drugo knows what that even means.

Lawrence Stroll is talking to a mechanic and I can literally hear the thousands of dollars dropping into his bank account with every heartbeat. Surely his son is nearby? Oh yes, right infront of us. Imagine that. (Lance did of course look gorgeous, his racesuit tied around his waist, laughing with his engineers like the whore he is)

We're heading over to the PU station now and the wonderful AM team member is talking us through the specifics of it, but I haven't heard a single word she has said, because unfortunately for her Fernando has decided to enter the garage at that exact moment. I am stood near a space heater, and he locks eyes on me (nope, the space heater) immediately. He makes his way over and sticks his backside directly towards the heater and my face is about as red as the radiator.

"Good morning! How are you?"

I have so many words to say to you right now, and not a single one of them is in a language that either of us can understand. I think I eventually vomitted up some form of acceptable response, however, because he smiled at me.

"Are you cold?"

"Only a little" I respond. Not anymore, I'm picturing myself under you, I think.

I totally lost a good hour after this because there's not a single memory here for me to put into words, damn you Alonso

The blur fades with the freezing air outside, and we're stood on the pitwall. Sky Sports are here now and have us doing media stuff, I run as far away from them as possible and climb onto the pitwall. FIA, if you're reading this, I promise I kept both feet on the ground at all times.

They tell us the shakedown isn't going to plan, suprise surprise, and you actually cannot see the car on track today. I mentally curl into a ball and sob the whole way back to the AMRTC but all of a sudden we are being led to mission control and the composite engineering stations and they are, literally, building a car infront of us whatthefuckishappening

By this point I have recovered from my minor sulk - Grace this is literally the best day of your life get over yourself - and then we're being told that as an apology they have hired a room in the Hilton Hotel opposite the pitlane, free food and drinks for as long as we want, oh and... cars on track. all. day. long.

Whilst writing this i received another email from biblically-accurate marketing analyst god asking for feedback. I think a string of letters indicating incessant shrieking will probably do the trick

#grace at aston

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blackdollette · 10 months ago

Note

Thinking about....fuck idk, maybe Clive? Mike? Jack? No idea - Hanging out with his friends with his arm around you, bragging about how good he fucks you and how well he doms you while you just sit there and smirk, knowing that he's full of shit and that his contact name in your phone is fuckin "Barstool" for a reason.

-high anon

this request screams "mike" so loud.

"never bought into your bullshit." | mike

high by the beach. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @icarus-star @imoonkiss @lankysimp @xxbl00d-cl0txx @wildathevrt @mommymilkers0526 @wild-rose-35

female!reader x mike

word count: 929

contents: cunnilingus, mike being subby, masturbation

mike’s hand went clammy as his arm tightened itself around your waist, palpable anxiety coursing through his veins. conversations with leff had always led to an argument and ended with mike crying to you, desperate for an ounce of support. this little chat had gone no different.

“it’s about time you started acting like a man, mike.” leff began, disapproval scribbled all over his face. “how the hell am i supposed to take you seriously when you can’t even keep that bitch of yours satisfied.”

your eyes widened and mike quickly shot back. “a-are you kidding? you can call me shitty at the business all you want but she’s said it herself. no one has treated her better than i have.” leff rolled his eyes. “i know a virgin when i see one, mike.”

mike sneered, hands trailing down to your hips. “you know i’m not a goddamn virgin.” he was getting riled up quickly. you could feel his body starting to tremble against yours. leff extended a hand and patted you on the shoulder. “take it from me, sweetheart. you’d better leave this pussy while you still can before he gets to attached.” he laughed in mike’s face and you felt a grin tugging at your lips.

mike rolled his eyes, gradually becoming more confident. “i fuck her better than anyone could and she knows it. you may view me as some pussy but at least i’ve got the balls to get a girl and keep her around.” he smirks a little. “i even got her crying on my dick. just last night.”

leff was right about one thing. mike had gotten attached to you. like a wounded puppy with a cowboy hat. mike continued to bicker with leff, defending his case about how well he treated you in the bedroom as images flickered into your mind. as mike insisted on wearing the pants in your relationship, you remembered him from just the night before, on his knees and begging you to let him eat you out…

“c’mon, baby… please. i-ill be so good for you, i swear it…“ he sat on his knees in front of the bed were your legs were spread, your wet cunt dripping through the thin fabric of your panties. he was practically clawing at the sheets, bucking his hips against the mattress as he pleaded to get a taste of the honey between your legs.

you pondered for a moment, wanting to see him beg a little more. “are you sure..? i wouldn’t wanna pressure you or anything.” his eyes lit up even more. “it would be my pleasure, doll.” you smiled, opening your legs a little more and inviting him in. “...then show me what you can do…”

like a starved man, he tore off your panties and pulled your hips to the edge of the bed, connecting his lips with your pulsating pussy and moaning as the sweet taste hit his tongue. you fisted a handful of his hair, tossing your head back as you began to fuck his mouth. mike whimpered as you used his tongue for pleasure, the tip of his nose tapping against your clit. “j-just like that, doll. fuck my face…”

you rolled your hips as he sunk into you, dipping his tongue into your hole. you hissed, insides contracting as he inserted a desperate finger into your gummy walls. he reached his other hand down to his aching cock, wrapping it around and pumping it teasingly, smearing his precum over his girth and using it as a lubricant.

he curled two fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out of your greedy cunt. you bit your lip to supress a moan, gripping the bedsheets until your knuckles went white. every nerve in your body was responding to his touch. you uncontrollably squeezed your thighs together, crushing his head in the process.

he let out a deep groan, his entire body getting hot from the feeling of drowning in your soft skin. he greedily jerked himself off, though he was more focused on pleasuring you than himself. you attempted to squirm away as he swirled complicated patterns onto your clit. he held you firmly in place. “i’m not done yet, baby. you just taste so good…”

he was licking and lapping you up like you were a tasty dessert, his cock beginning to throb. whimpers escaped from his mouth as he touched himself. he fed his moans into your hole, sending waves of heat and pleasure throughout your body.

you held the back of his head, rubbing it against your stimulated core. he was a panting mess and you could’ve sworn that tears were running down his face. your body shook and trembled as he reached a harmonic rhythm between his fingers and his tongue. you felt yourself getting closer to a climax. your hole clenching and pulsating around him until…

mike shook you in an attempt to grab your attention, raising an eyebrow. “you okay? i thought we lost you there for a sec.” you had forgotten where you were for a second. and leff was still standing there with that smug grin on his face. “so is mikey here telling the truth? or is he just full of bullshit?”

you glanced up at mike, seeing that submissive expression filcker across his face for just a second. you cleared your throat. “he’s right. i cant imagine being with another guy.” mike nodded, spinning you both around and starting to walk away, happy that you didn’t rat him out for the pushover he really was.

author's note: i need to learn how to write for mike. thank you so much for the request!!

#444rockstargf #rory culkin #rory culkin smut #smut #mike 5lbs of pressure #mike rory culkin #5 lbs of pressure #honeymoon album #honeymoon #high by the beach #lana del rey

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geminibsworld · 1 year ago

Text

fingertips- t.b

chap: 2

warnings: smut, cussing, drinking, smoking, & infidelity

⭐️this is hella long SORRY⭐️

priscilla had been avoiding mike all day. she felt guilty. flirting with his best friend? bad. wanting to fuck his best friend? also bad. she had a boyfriend, a perfectly fine boyfriend, priscilla really had no complaints other than sex. sex isn’t even important, she loves mike so she doesn’t mind. they have intimacy, romance, respect, and excellent communication. what can be worse? nothing, that’s why she’s so mad at herself. mike is perfect in her eyes, she loves perfect things. she works hard to view herself as ‘perfect’ and mike is already perfect to her.

but tom? he was a mess. so chaotic, all over the place, careless, reckless, doesn’t care, the list goes on. those things annoy her unbelievably so, she couldn’t stand to be with someone like that. the fact that she was responding back to him that night? made her feel disgusted. she didn’t even reply back to his text. she hated the way he talked to her, treated her, existed around her.

she felt so conflicted that she avoided not only mike, but tom. even in the classes she has with tom, of course, she could feel his eyes on her. they basically burned a hole into her. she hated it, the way it made her body feel. that was different. she felt.. turned on. she wanted him, physically. to the point that she’s touched herself every night soaking her sheets to him. that’s the main reason she felt disgusted, the way he talked to her made her feel dizzy and warm.

the bell rang signaling class was over, she grabbed her bag and sprinted out the door. she was speed walking towards the doors, pushing past some.

“priscilla!” she recognized that voice, she wanted to throw up.

she pushed past the glass doors. cursing to herself as she hears a shout again. she was annoyed, she had been avoiding both tom and mike all day. but now, the avoidance is over.

“priscilla? hello?” tom’s voice is next to her ear, she groans loudly. she can hear tom let out a laugh.

“why are you ignoring me?” he asks, his brows furrowed. she looks at him, scoffing. he raises his brows at her, a small smile now on his lips.

“why do you think?” she snaps, looking around making sure no one was around. tom shakes his head, messing with his hair.

“oh maybe, because i said some things and you actually responded back?” he asks, quietly. priscilla’s cheeks burn, she could feel herself blushing. she cleared her throat, avoiding eye contact with him. he laughs, she internally is screaming.

“i knew it,” he laughs, “she’s embarrassed.”

“oh piss off,” priscilla yells, turning and looking at him.

“i have a boyfriend, and he’s your best friend asshole,” priscilla hisses pointing a finger at his chest, tom looks down at her. for the first time ever he looks annoyed, he’s holding his jaw in this way that makes him look likes he’s got something to say.

“you’re a bad person for going after me. your best friends fucking girlfriend, do you know what that makes you? a terrible, terrible friend. what if i told mike, huh? you’d be done, you’d be over with. do you know how happy that would make me?” she seethed, tom stares at her his eyes never leaving hers. she was so angry at him, of course she was just as guilty and maybe that’s why she was so mad.

“you’re an asshole tom, a genuine asshole.” she said, her voice hard cracking like she was about to cry. tom looks away for a split second before he starts speaking.

“im the asshole, huh? you were responding. edging me on. you never ONCE told me to stop, besides your weak ass reply, something the lines of ‘i have a boyfriend’ or whatever the fuck you said. you are just as guilty as me. you’re an asshole to,” he snaps, her eyes widen at him. anger and anxiety coursing through her making her feel like she was about to cry. he stares at her, before his eyes fall to her lips back to her eyes.

“fuck you, tom.” she says, dryly. she turns around to walk away before tom grabs her wrist pulling her into a kiss.

she gasps, she bumps into him as his hands cup her face. kissing her in a way that makes her knees feel weak, he kissed her with desire and hunger. she felt dizzy, her hands grab his uniform tie pulling him closer as her hands grip his hair tightly. the kiss felt so electric, her body had shock waves all through out her body. she could feel herself melting into his body as his hands roamed her body. his hands gripped her waist, pinching at the skin. she suddenly felt conscious all the sudden, her eyes snapped open and pushed herself away.

tom and priscilla both breathing heavy, chests heaving. she clears her throat, trying to regain her breathing. tom shakes his head laughing a bit.

she looks over at him, she couldn’t help but admire him. his lips a darker pink, his messy brown hair even messier. she thought he looked so attractive, the messy after kiss look was definitely his look.

he looks at her, her cheeks pink, her lips swollen and puffy. her glasses fogged slightly, she smoothed down her shirt. he couldn’t help but want to kiss her more.

“you’re an asshole,” she speaks, softly. tom nods, before walking up to her again.

“you kissed back, and look at you now. you want more,” he says, his brows raised slightly with a amusement in his voice. unfortunately he was right, she was fighting the urge to kiss him. she wanted more, so much more. she imagined what it was like kissing him, and it’s so much more than just a kiss. she knew she was wet, she was turned on. no wonder why girls love kissing him.

“oh, fuck off. you’ve done enough.” she sneered at him, rolling her eyes beginning to walk towards her house. he follows after her, jogging slightly.

“i clearly haven’t, you’re still being a cunt.” he spat, she turned around. she clenched her jaw, and marched up towards him. they were in the middle of her yard now.

“fuck you fuckhead,” she seethed, flaring her nostrils slightly. tom rolled his eyes, a smirk slowly revealing itself.

“nice one, genius,” he scoffed, she takes off her backpack and shoves it in his chest. he grabs her bag, letting out a small ‘ugh’ he sets it down by his feet.

“yeah because you’re so fucking smart?” she snaps, her fists balling up at her sides. he glances at her fist, and steps closer. his scent invading her senses, she took a deep breath her eyes flutter shut before she stares at him again. his face doesn’t look upset, she knows he’s going to try something.

“yeah i am, going after my best friends long term girlfriend? priscilla, you’re so angry. know why? because you need to be taken care of.” he says, his hands reaching for hers. she looks down at his fingers gently grab her wrist, she gulps quietly before looking back at him. he nods, almost like reassuring himself before talking again.

“let me be the one who takes care of you? please? mike doesn’t have to know. we can be bad people together,” he says, softly much more gentle than before. priscilla groans, yanking away from him. her eyes meet his, suddenly she wants to kiss him again.

“please- just go home,” she said, she was tired and done with this. done with him. done with all of it. she leans down to grab her bag, she begins to walk away. as she reaches the porch, she turns around and he’s still there his hands in his coat pockets.

“go. go home tom,” she says, reaching for her keys in her coat pocket. she looks at him, seeing him nod and walking away.

her stomach hurt, she entered the home. she chewed her bottom lip, anxiety making her shake. she threw down her bag in the chair before she jogs up to her room.

she danced on mike, grinding into him as his hands lay on her hips. the music vibrating the room, lights flashing, sweaty bodies everywhere. she felt like she was on cloud 9. she was so drunk at the moment, she just felt so good. she moved her hips back into his crotch, his hands occasionally gripping her tighter than normal.

some 2000’s song played surrounding everyone, priscilla was pretty drunk and she missed mike also. after everything that happened, she needed a break. she never goes to parties so when mike invited her, she agreed. mike was actually surprised that she agreed but he was happy. priscilla thought about the kiss all day long, she couldn’t help it. she still felt like her lips were tingling now, several hours later.

“babe!” mike shouts in her ear, she looks up at him from the side slightly moving her ear closer.

“i’m gonna go get us more drinks okay?” he shouts again, she nods smiling as he walks away in the crowd. she continued to dance, in her own little bubble. she twirled around and shook her hips to the music. she closed her eyes letting out giggles as she bumps into someone.

“fuck! i’m so sorry-“ she starts, sorry written across her face before she looks at tom. his hair was messily flat on his forehead, he was holding a red cup probably filled with liquor, the cup looking so small in his hand. he leans in closer to her.

“oh. it’s you,” she groans, tom lets out a laugh throwing his head back slightly. priscilla begins to walk away before tom reaches for her, grabbing her wrist her mind flickered to when he did this earlier. pulling her close so they could hear each other.

“never seen you so… relaxed? have you been drinking ma’am?” he asks, with a teasing tone. she can’t help but smiles as he begins to smile with her.

“i had a bad day, so yes sir, i have been drinking,” she laughs, winking at him. he raises his brows, and he begins to chuckle at her.

“are you having fun?” he asks, taking a sip of his drink. she grins, nodding.

“so much fun, i guess i should ask if you are?” she says, he shrugs smiling slightly.

“it’s nothing new,” he laughs a bit, shaking his head slightly. her eyes glance to his hand, he had such big hands, never had she wanted a hand as necklace so bad till now.

she then glances back to tom, his eyes were on her. watching her, he seen her look at his hands. she didn’t feel embarrassed this time, in fact, she wanted to see how far she could go with this. mike was going to be back- she began to wonder about mike. where the hell did he go?

“you okay?” tom asks, furrowing his brows. she nods looking around, not seeing mike.

“i’m okay, did you see where mike went? he was supposed to get me a drink well the both of us drinks.” she asks, trying to peak around everyone. not seeing much due to her height obviously, tom begins to open his mouth before looking around.

“i don’t see him,” he says, his face showing worry yet something else lingered. she couldn’t read his face, that bothered her. he was normally expressive facially anyways.

“you saw something?” she asks, yanking him a bit. he shakes her off, grimacing before his face changed to amusement.

“i didn’t see anything- how about we go get drinks together?” he asks, she nods. he places his hand on her lower back walking slightly in front of her. his hand felt warm against the thin fabric, so warm she felt like her skin was burning. she loved the feeling at the moment.

they reach a table by the kitchen. bottles on bottles on the table, every type of liquor that anyone could think of was probably there. plus several other shooters, including soda, juice, and energy drinks.

“what do you want?” he asks, extremely close to her ear. she shivers, looking over the options.

“whiskey and coke?” she asks, biting her bottom lip hiding her smile. he gives a half smile before grabbing the two drinks and mixes them together pouring them in a purple cup then pouring another in another cup.

“here you go, gorgeous,” he smiles, handing her a drink. she rolls her eyes, a playful smile on her lips. she grabs the drink from his hand, their fingers graze slightly and she wanted to burst into flames.

“shut up, big nose,” she laughs, taking a sip. he laughs, looking down shaking his head.

“do you not remember what doja cat said about big noses or are you uncultured?” he asks, bumping his arm into hers. she chokes on her drink, looking at him wide eyed. he laughs, before placing a hand on her back slightly smacking her back. she coughs, and looks at him again. she regained her breathing tom stared at her almost concerned.

“did i knock the wind out of you with that one?” he says, before throwing his head back giggling. she groans, taking a sip again.

“dude, i hate you,” she laughs, quietly. he raises his hands up in defense smiling.

“no you don’t, quite the opposite kind of?” he makes a face of confusion, before laughing slightly. she stares at him, scrunching her nose up.

“here, follow me,” he reaches a hand out to her, she hesitantly grabs his hand. he pulls her into a hallway, opening up the bathroom she slowly entered. he lets go of her hand, closing and locking the door. she watches him taking a drink again, before hoping on the sink counter. she kicked off her heals, got comfy on the sink.

“i do hate you, ya know.” she says suddenly, he looks at her making a face. he waves her off, shaking his head.

“no, no you don’t,” he says, shrugging. she sits up slightly, he stands only a few feet away from her. she could still smell him.

“you don’t, you might not like me but when we kissed earlier. i don’t know, feels like you’re hiding something,” he says, nonchalantly leaning against the counter next to her. she scrunched up her nose shaking her head brushing her hair behind her ears.

“think whatever you want, but remember i have a boyfriend,” she shrugs, “plus, you kissed me,”

“you kissed back pri,” he says, the nickname causing butterflies to appear in her stomach. she’s never been called a nickname like that before.

she smiled softly, grabbing her drink and taking a sip. he looks at her, she meets his gaze.

“i did, but it was a mistake tom,” she says, looking away down at her feet. they swung as thoughts anxiously ran through her mind. she wanted to kiss him again, she couldn’t help it. his lips were soft and plump. his mouth had tasted like mint.

“was it such a mistake?” he asks teasingly, turning to look at her with a boyish grin on his face. she clears her throat, grabbing her drink downing her last swig.

“yes, it was and you know it to,” she says, stern.

“oh come on, really you’re being this way?” he says, his voice dry. she shrugs, before rolling her eyes. she hopped down from the counter, and began to grab her heels from the floor.

“yeah. i am because my boyfriend who just so happens to be downstairs probably looking for me so im going to find him,” she says, slipping on her heels and reaching for the door.

“you won’t find him,” he says suddenly, priscilla looks at him making a face.

“what do you mean?” she asks, raising a brow at him. he sighs, placing his drink down. he looks at her, she crosses her arms giving him a stern look.

“i saw him leave with another girl, when he was getting your drink,” he sighs, she laughs. he almost looks shocked at her laughing.

“you don’t believe me? i saw them, remember you even asked me?” he says, pushing himself off the counter. her heart thumped in her ears, she didn’t want to believe him, but she still felt anxious.

“you’re pathetic,” she says, scoffing. he puts his hands up in a defensive way.

“i’m just saying, some blonde girl walked out with him, and isn’t it funny how we didn’t see him at all?” the last part came out sarcastic. she scoffed rolling her eyes.

“sure, tom, sure. like id ever believe you anyways. mike would never cheat on me. he loves me.” she responds sarcastically grumbling the last two sentences.

“oh, like you love him? remember we kissed. you cheated on him remember and you’re supposed to love him.” he says, crossing his arms a smug look spreading on his face.

“fuck you tom, you’re an asshole.” she spits, scrunching her nose up. she unlocks the door and walks out of the bathroom. the music still louder than ever, and lights flashing, but all she could think about was the fact that what if mike left?

she turns a corner, peeking around trying to look for mike. she doesn’t see him, or anyone she recognizes at all.

she makes her way through the crowd heading for the front door, she grabs her jean jacket and putting it on before opening the door. her hot breath causes a vapor to come out of her mouth. she shivers slightly, reaching for her phone.

her-

hey. where did you go?

she stared at the screen, when the message didn’t deliver she began to worry. she chewed her bottom lip anxiously, picking at the skin on her lip.

she decided to call him, the phone went straight to voicemail. she began to feel more anxious then ever before. what if tom wasn’t lying?

“hey, it’s cold out here.” tom spoke, opening the door and stepping out behind her. she snapped her head to look at him.

“yeah,” she mumbles, she continued to try and send the message over and over.

“is that him?” he asks, peaking over her shoulder. she pursed her lips.

“yep.” she says flatly, she turns off her phone. she felt sober now, sober enough anyways. she was beginning to get upset. her boyfriend left without her? he was her ride?

“do you need a ride home?” tom asks, looking at softly.

“i guess i do need a ride home,”

it was sunday. the night after the party, and she still hasn’t heard from mike. she hoped he wasn’t just going to ghost her, which would be stupid because they had been together for a year, but mike was never the talk it out type.

her phone vibrated next to her, she picked it up quickly and answered it without even knowing who it was.

“mike?” she asks, she heard shuffling on the other line.

“no- it’s tom- wait you still haven’t heard from him?” he asks, confused.

“what? yeah, no haven’t heard anything thing. have you?” she asks, sounding hopeful.

“no, my calls go straight to voicemail, also i’m coming over,” he says, she shuffling again.

“what? no?” she says, grabbing a big t shirt to cover her shorts. she puts her phone on speaker as she slips the shirt over her head. it falls right below her shorts.

“well, i’m here so let me in,” he says, then hanging up. she groans, throwing down her phone and rushing downstairs. she opens the front door, and sees tom in a hoodie and sweatpants.

“why are you here?” she asks, annoyed. he smiles at her.

“well, good morning to you too,” he grins, sliding past her. she slams the door shut, and crosses her arms in front of her chest. he turns and looks at her. taking time to admire how simple, yet angelic she looked. her long dark hair, and hazel eyes. pale as snow skin. make up still smeared around her eyes, but in a way that it didn’t look like raccoon eyes.

his eyes travel down her body and couldn’t help but notice her legs. her thighs were the most exposed he’s ever seen. the shirt barely covered her, he pictured her curves under her shirt. he wondered what she would look like naked, a lot actually.

“stop checking me out, and answer me,” she snaps, he shrugs putting his hand in his pockets.

“i don’t know, just felt like i should come over. we can watch your favorite movie or something. i just felt bad about last night,” he says, looking around before giving her a small smile.

her face softened. she was worried about mike. he never does this. tom was trying to be nice, she rolled her eyes playfully.

“fine,” she mumbles, before walking towards the stairs. she glanced at him, he smiled before following her up the stairs.

his eyes wondered of course, he thought her shirt covered nothing, but so did her shorts. she walked up the stairs, he couldn’t help but watch the shorts ride up as she walked.

they approached her room, before she opened it. he’s never really been in her room before. the walls covered with music and movie posters. fairy lights hug around her room. her dark curtains keeping the sunlight out of her room, then his eyes went to her bed. it was covered in blankets and pillows.

“i like your room,” he says, glancing around. before taking off his shoes and sitting on her bed, making himself at home. she chuckled watching him, before grabbing her remote and turning on netflix.

she turned on the murder documentary she’d been meaning to watch. she brings her remote into bed with her. she climbs in next to tom, they were so close she could feel his body heat and smell his cologne he always wears. she felt immediately drenched in him.

“you watch these?” he asks, pointing a finger at the screen. she smiles and nods.

“they’re my absolute favorite thing to watch on days where i can do nothing, i typically watch them by myself. mike hates murder documentaries, he says they’re creepy.” she laughs, returning her eyes to the screen.

the two sat in silence watching the documentary for about thirty minutes. she was kind of leaning on him, and he didn’t mind. in fact he wanted her closer. he adjusted his position slightly, moving his arm around her yet not touching her. he glanced at her, he admired her bone structure. to him, it looked like she was sculpted from the gods.

her phone vibrated, she reached for it pulling away the cold air touching her skin. she turned on her phone.

mike-

sorry babe. got sick and left last night. hope you got home safe.

she sighs, rereading the text over and over.

“everything alright?” tom speaks up, she turns and looks at him and turns off her phone.

“yeah. mike said he got sick and left last night,” she says, tom scoffs next to her.

priscilla frowns at him. tom lets out a small laugh, and sits up. priscilla now facing him sitting cross cross, stares at him.

“what?” she asks, raising a brow at him. he rolls his eyes, a smile creeping up on his face.

“you believe that shit? also really shitty of him to be like ‘hope you got home safe’ like what?” he scoffs, priscilla rolls her eyes.

“he does get sick from drinking sometimes,” she shrugs, tom shakes his head beginning to stand up.

“you’re so stupid,” he scoffs, priscilla cocks her head at him disgust written all over her face.

“excuse me? i’m stupid? the fuck?” she spits, following after him. he stands up, and she scrambles to stand up getting off the bed.

“yes, you are stupid. he’s clearly lying to you.” he snaps at her, she puts her hands on her hips. a stern look on her face. his nostrils flaring slightly.

“oh like you’re lying to him?” she snaps, tom shakes his head scoffing.

“please. how am i lying if i haven’t even said anything or he knows?” priscilla wanted to punch him so bad at the moment.

“you don’t have to say anything you’re lying to him. you kissed me, remember?” she crosses her arms over her chest.

“and you kissed back.” he states, staring at her sternly. priscilla lets out a deep breath.

“okay. what’s your point? we’re both not innocent.” she says, nonchalantly.

“so, you’re ’technically lying’ as well.” he spits, she scrunches up her nose. she puckers her lips before chewing anxiously on her bottom lip.

“i don’t want to lie to him anymore that i have, tom.” she says, softly. he frowns down at her.

“what do you want then?” he asks, moving down to her height slightly. she looks down at her feet. her thoughts race through her mind. she wants to kiss tom again, but yet thinking mike and what if he was lying to her?

“i want mike,” she says, looking up at him. her hazel eyes meeting his blue ones. he nods slowly putting his hands in his hoodie pocket.

“i want you,” he says, she stares at him. her lips fall open slightly, before she closes her mouth into a tight lipped expression.

“i don’t want you tom. i want mike,” she says, sounding sure of herself. tom takes his hands out his pockets, taking a step towards her.

his cologne invaded her senses, she felt like she was falling under his spell. he stares down at her, she tries to hold eye contact. she can’t, she’s looking at him, past him, around her room, everywhere but him occasionally.

“are you sure?” he asks, softly. his gaze searching her face. she feels nervous. her heart was thumping in her ears. his hand reached for her hip, she tried to fight him off but it was weak. her hands pushed against him, as he pulls her close. her hands keeping a distance between them. he leans down to her height, before whispering into her ear.

“why aren’t you fighting this?” he asks softly, she shivered. he lets out a quiet chuckle. she chews her lip nervously. both of his hands on her hips now, he sits up to his full height.

“look at me,” he says, she looks up at him finally holding eye contact. his eyes bore into hers.

“you make me feel insane,” she says, finally. tom peers at her carefully. his hands on her hips distracting her, she removes his hands from his chest dropping them to her sides.

“in the worst… and best way,” she sighs, he raises a brow at her a smirk creeping onto his lips.

“tell me more, c’mon,” his thumbs rub into her hips. she lets out a deep sigh, and looks down. she purses her lips and grabs his hands on her hips and pulls them away from her. he frowns at her, and she takes a step back.

“i really can’t do this.” she says, meeting his eyes. he nods slowly, trying to understand.

before he can even respond, her bedroom door opens. tom looks towards the door as priscilla spins around, her eyes widening and her cheeks turning pink.

“mike? you’re here? hi?” she says, trying to muster excitement. he grins at her, grabbing her wrists pulling her into a tight hug.

she hears shifting behind her as tom begins to leave, mikes arms brought priscilla comfort yet it still bothered her about tom. what could’ve happened, what she wanted to happen.

#tom blyth #billy the kid #tbosas #ballad of songbirds and snakes #billy the kid 2022 #coriolanus snow #tom blyth smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth x reader #cornelius snow

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