#stomach bug fic

[secretobsessionstuff]

The Wedding Fic ❤️

Feat. sick Madix.

I tried my best to strike a balance between the angsty sickfic moments and the cute wedding moments. I hope everyone loves it! I feel a funny sense of pride for my made-up characters. Anyway, I'll always love this community! Thank you for caring about my imaginary friends :)

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“Guess what?” 

“What?” 

“I’m getting married today.” 

Madix chuckled lowly in his throat as he smoothed out the shoulders on Dakota’s navy-blue suit. He straightened his best friend’s collar, running his hands down the silken fabric so that the lapels lay flat against his chest. “Shoot, I have plans today. I can’t make it.” 

“The betrayal!” Dakota dramatically swooned and grabbed his chest. Their hands touched, making them both sober up. Dakota held Madix’s hand firmly. He sniffled—the first signs of tears of the day. “Thank you, Mads. Everything looks great.” 

“Oh, you’re not ready yet,” Madix said, rummaging in the suitcase he had packed for the day. 

The wedding hall had private rooms for the couple to get ready separately. Blair was no doubt being pampered and kissed in the room next door. He could hear soft laughter coming through the wall. It was only 9am and already the air was alive with excitement. It was going to be a dizzying day full of movement. Madix tried to steady his shaking hands as he pinned a flower boutonnière onto Dakota’s breast. In fashion with a December wedding, the flowers were white as snow with red berries as the accent. Pine green leaves added a touch of nature as well. 

“Are you nervous?” Madix asked, feeling Dakota’s chest rise and fall with each breath. 

“No,” Dakota said simply. “I’ve been waiting for this my whole life. Nothing has ever felt more right.” 

“Gosh, Kota, we’re not supposed to cry yet.” Madix wiped his eyes. He also wiped his palms on his pants. He wore a grey suit, similar to Dakota’s blue one, with less adornments. Sweat seemed to gather in every crevice of the outfit. 

Dakota watched his friend anxiously scan the room. Madix finally took a good deep breath when he put the rings in his pocket. Next, he grabbed the cufflinks off the dresser. “You nervous?” 

Madix sighed and wiped the sweat off his brow. “Maybe a bit stressed. I want everything to go well for you.” Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He didn’t expect to have so many nerves on a day that wasn’t even his own. He regretted eating such a large breakfast at the hotel. An odd ache settled in the pit of his belly that he knew wouldn’t go away until Dakota and Blair kissed. 

When Madix finished attaching the cufflinks, Dakota grabbed his hands once more, momentarily taken aback by their clamminess. “Relax, Maddy. It doesn’t have to be perfect. I appreciate all that you’ve done up to this point. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Madix tried to shake off the growing sense of nausea. “Let’s make you a married man.” 

…

Large windows covered the entire back wall of the wedding hall. Madix thanked mother nature for providing the fluffiest snowfall. There were no harsh winter winds or grey skies—only sunshine that danced between soft snowflakes. 

He stood at the end of the aisle with Dakota, Riley, and Dakota’s sister Logan. Logan wore a feminine grey suit that matched the rest of the groomsmen. In the first row of seats, Dakota’s father couldn’t take his eyes off his son. The two generations tapped on their legs in anticipation. Dakota’s smile grew bigger and bigger as his soon-to-be bride was about to walk down the aisle. 

The music changed, and then Blair emerged wearing winter itself.

Arm in arm with her father, Blair made the fateful walk towards Dakota. Her long white dress trailed behind her, tracking red flower petals that the young flower girl had dropped. Intricate lace covered her arms in a flurry of patterns. The bouquet of reds, greens, and white matched Dakota’s boutonnière. And her smile! Her smile matched Dakota’s as well. It was as if their joy drew them together. Madix smirked as Dakota bounced on his feet. 

Her platinum blond hair fell over her shoulders in a snowfall. She radiated warmth despite the arctic aesthetic. Her skin held a candle-like glow. Her eyes shone as if bouncing back the light from the flickering fireplace.

And then the handkerchief came out. Dakota dabbed his eyes lightly at first. Finally, when she stood next to him, he couldn’t help the flood of tears. A queen stood before him. His queen. 

Blair took his hands. “Hi baby,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. 

Dakota let out a shaky laugh. “Hi, oh my god, Bee. You look—you look beautiful.” He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t find the words. His eyes remained glassy for the rest of the ceremony, filled with tears of joy. He imagined that he was looking through a snow globe, seeing only one perfect dream for the rest of his life. 

As ceremonies go, this one was short and to the point. 

Neither Dakota nor Blair was terribly religious, but a bit of Blair’s mother managed to squeeze into the officiant’s speech. Yes, it spoke of everlasting love, faithfulness, and the love of God. But it also spoke of evergreen trees, with their unwavering steadiness in the face of harsh winds. It spoke of growth and new beginnings, with the officiant playing off the chilly weather outside to mark a contrast between winter and spring. Dakota and Blair’s life as a married couple would move through the seasons, with all its ups and downs. Whether sun or rain, they would have each other to find shelter and peace in. 

Madix’s vision grew blurry, but not because of tears. He swayed on his feet, feeling a wave of vertigo wash over him. His heart thudded loud in his chest. Trying his hardest to keep his expression neutral, he bit the side of his cheek to keep the nausea from showing on his face. 

For possibly the tenth time, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. At the same time, he shivered as if there were no window blocking out the winter weather. He knew that being hot and cold at once wasn’t a good sign. Nothing happening in his body was a good sign—not the churning in his belly, nor the aches in his muscles. What started out as nerves seemed to be revealing itself as something more. Madix swallowed thickly, forcing down a nauseous burp. 

The ceremony only had a few more beats to hit. He could make it. He would not pass out, even though he wanted so badly to lean back against Riley who stood behind him. It looked like he’d be carrying a secret with him that day—a heavy secret that sat like grease in his tummy. 

Madix forced himself to pay attention when Dakota and Blair said their vows. 

Dakota went first. He pulled a paper out of his pocket and unfolded it with steady hands. He smiled at Blair, getting lost in her soft gaze until he realized that he needed to speak the words out loud. 

“Blair, Bee. I love you so fucking much. I couldn’t think of a better way to start this because writing is not my strong suit.” Dakota let out a shaky laugh, finding the right rhythm for his speech. He held the paper, though never looked down at the words. “I wish you could see through my eyes so that you’d understand that you are my entire world. I look at you when I make a joke to see if it made you laugh. I look at you when I’m scared and overwhelmed because you make me feel grounded. I look at you and I see my future. In your eyes, I see comfort and unconditional love. You put up with all my ramblings and my childish sense of humour. You help slow the world down when my brain is going too fast. I get to appreciate your beauty, your confidence, and your kindness in real time. I hope our lives together move slow so that I can spend an eternity loving you the way you deserve.” 

Tears like icicles fell onto Blair’s rosy cheeks. She mumbled a quick ‘I love you’ under her breath before taking out her own cue cards. 

“Dakota,” she began, wiping her eyes with a tissue, “you’re my favourite person to be around because I can be myself in its entirety. With you I can be vulnerable, and messy, and imperfect. It’s a gift to be able to hold someone who knows and loves every bit of your soul. You’ve always encouraged me to chase my dreams, and this is me chasing my forever dream. Our careers may change, our health may waver, but my heart will never change. It will forever be yours. I vow to always laugh at your jokes, to stand by you in times of sorrow, and to lift you up just as you have done for me. Today I get to marry my favourite person, and I can’t wait another second.”

After a few more words from the officiant, Madix was finally admitting to himself that his unease would not go away even when his best friend was well and truly married. He felt all the joy and love in his heart after hearing their vows, but that did not stop him from feeling other, less pleasant sensations, elsewhere in his body. 

Dakota and Blair were oblivious to anything that wasn’t each other—as they should be! They allowed themselves to get lost in the eyes of their partner. They held hands, wearing their giddy smiles while they exchanged ‘I do’s’. 

With snow falling in the background and candles aglow around them, Dakota and Blair shared their first kiss as husband and wife. 

…

Cocktail hour and photo ops was the worst part of the day for Madix. He held back while his best friends ventured outside to take pictures in the snow. Eventually he would need to join the wedding party in the cold for group pictures, but he took a second to himself to hide in the bathroom. He wandered upstairs where the private bathroom would give him the necessary privacy to wallow in his misery. 

He was going to ruin the goddamn pictures with his forced smile and baggy eyes. His face was the colour of January slush. The lights in the bathroom buzzed in his brain. He groaned and leaned against the sink as a burp rumbled up his chest. His stomach was a blizzard of nausea, swirling with half-digested food. 

This was the beginning of something bad. He was sick and he knew it. He prayed that he could hide it until the end of the night. Out of all the days in the year, this one was certainly the worst one to make a big deal about his own feelings. Dakota and Blair didn’t deserve this on their wedding day. 

Madix debated telling Riley that he was sick, but he decided against it for many reasons. Besides the obvious, Riley would likely insist that Madix be honest with Dakota and Blair. They’re your friends. They will understand. Well, Madix didn’t want them to understand; he wanted them to be none the wiser and go about their special day without worry. 

Madix stayed in the bathroom, forcing down burps, until he had to take pictures. He avoided hugs and handshakes as much as he could. He also avoided the appetizers and drinks. His breakfast seemed to be cooperative about staying down, but he knew that wouldn’t be the case if he tried to eat anything else. Though the vertigo was ever-present, he never dared touching the food. 

The staff members turned the ceremony hall into the dinner hall, swapping out the rows of chairs with circular tables. Deep reds and forests greens gave the room a mature and relaxed vibe. As the day progressed, the moon replaced the sun in the large windows.

Dakota and Blair had their first dance, swaying slowly like trees blowing in the wind. Blair’s dress created a halo around their feet as they spun on the dance floor. 

Madix watched until he couldn’t. He missed seeing Blair dance with her father and then missed Blair dancing with Dakota’s dad. He wanted to stay for it all, but the nausea was too great. His head swam and his tummy gurgled. Madix made some excuse to Riley and quickly fled the hall. 

His stomach was done being kind.

He jogged to the private bathroom in the groom’s room, thankful that he had access to these parts of the building. 

Madix moaned as he dropped to his knees in front of the toilet. He held his aching belly as it whined. A gurgling burp escaped past his lips, dripping saliva into the bowl. 

After a long time of gagging and spitting, he suddenly felt his stomach lurch. His shoulders rolled forward with a deep retch that came from the pit of his guts. Thick vomit splattered into the toilet. His belly gave another squeeze. He moaned as more sick gushed from his mouth. 

Ten minutes later, his hands were shaking and his nose burned with acid. He cleaned himself up, splashed water on his face, and returned to the party. 

Dinner was served to every table by this point. He had missed a lot. He let out a deep exhale and shook out his wrists to release the build-up of tension in his bones. 

At the head table, Dakota and Blair chatted with relatives who came to say hi. Madix tried to inconspicuously take his spot next to Dakota without prompting anyone to notice his absence. 

“Madix, where’d you go?” Dakota said loudly, turning to his friend. “Riley got you a plate of food.” He swung his arm over the back of his chair. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all day.” 

“You’re very popular today, Kota,” Madix said, trying to sound light. “I wanted to give you space to talk to family.” 

“Yeah, it’s crazy. I don’t know who half these people are.” Dakota looked down at the untouched food. He slid the plate closer to his friend. “Eat. You look pale.” Dakota got distracted by a relative coming up to say kind words, but he eventually turned his attention back to Madix who was only stabbing at the grilled chicken with his fork. He looked contemplative for a moment before saying, “Are you alright? You seem off.” 

Madix shrugged. “I’m good. There’s just lots going on. Lots of talking and music.” 

“You got a headache? Blair has ibuprofen.” Before he could say anything, Dakota spun around to ask Blair for meds. 

Blair reached across her new husband to hand Madix two pills. “Hope these help, Mads, because we have a good playlist lined up for tonight.” She held onto his hand for longer than necessary, noticing his flushed cheeks. “You can step outside if it’s too hot in here.” 

“I might do that actually.” 

“But be back in time for speeches!” Blair said excitedly. 

Fuck. His speech…

Madix pretended to go outside, but he just snuck back to the bathroom, hoping he could throw up one more time before he had to talk to a room full of strangers. His stomach made all sorts of noises. He hung his head over the toilet, letting stringy saliva fall into the water. He belched and hiccupped but nothing more. It caused a great sense of dread to build in his body, knowing he was at the mercy of an unpredictable stomach bug. 

Fuck it, he said, preparing to get his speech over and done with. After that, there’d be just dancing that he didn’t mind missing. 

Blair’s sister got up to the podium first, talking about the role model that Blair was. Being a teenager, she made the room laugh with her slang and fresh jokes.

His own speech was printed on cue cards that surely would be drenched in sweat inside his pocket. He pulled out the damp paper, wondering if steam was curling off his head. 

Madix plastered on a smile and stepped up to the podium. Dakota and Blair smiled at him expectantly with their arms wrapped around each other. 

He cleared his throat, remembering the taste of vomit as it clung to his oesophagus. “Dakota…you’ve been my best friend since high school…and now you’ve given me a new person to laugh with, care for, and make memories with. I love Blair as much as I love you, perhaps a little more because” —Madix paused, feeling a burp rising to his mouth. He pressed a fist to his lips, suppressing the belch before it could escape— “because she has never called me in the middle of the night asking for an emergency condom. She has never wrapped my entire desk, including my pencils, in aluminum foil…” 

Madix was sure he had prepared a third example of the ridiculous things that Dakota had done to him over the years, but he couldn’t remember what it was. He UMMed and left awkward silences in this speech until he decided to skip over it. 

This was not going well. His voice was robotic, and his posture was crap as he tried to ease the ache in his belly by leaning forward. He couldn’t rub his stomach behind the podium because Dakota and Blair sat nearly in line with where he stood. 

Madix skipped over much of his speech. He would have to give Dakota the script for it some other time because they really did have great memories, but he couldn’t bring himself to stand there for much longer. He wondered if the microphone was picking up the sick gurgles that came from his stomach. God, he hoped not. It was making so much noise, and of course now he felt like he could throw up. Now, with everyone staring at him—with Dakota and Blair waiting for him to finish his speech—now, his belly was ready to give up. 

His jaw was growing heavier, and he had to swallow an absurd amount of saliva. He hiccupped and blushed, realizing that people must think he was drunk. Finish the fucking speech. He raised his glass, “To Dakota and Blair, I hope you annoy each other now, instead of the rest of us. To Blair, I hope you know that you can come to me just as you would your best friend, because that’s what I’ll be for you as long as you love Dakota.” 

Madix forced himself to drink the champaign. The bubbles angered his belly enough to make him gag so he quickly covered his mouth and left the podium. 

He couldn’t do all that without giving his friends hugs, so he walked into Dakota’s open arms. Dakota mumbled something vaguely funny in his ear then kissed him on the cheek. 

He hugged Blair next. She too whispered in his ear, “Thank you, Madix. I love you.” 

“I love you, Bee.” 

She broke away from the hug but held onto his arm, watching his face closely. Madix squirmed under her gaze, imagining that his expression gave away his secret. Maybe it did. He mumbled something about going to the bathroom. Luckily Blair’s parents were meant to give the last speech, so she didn’t say anything to him as he left. 

Madix’s stomach gurgled ominously. It churned beneath his hand as he half-ran to the same bathroom that he’d been using all day. His knees, now bruised from before, felt the pain of landing on the cold tile once more. 

With his hands gripped tightly to the toilet, he let out the sick belch that he’d been holding for the entire speech. It burst from his mouth, bringing with it a flood of acid that burned the back of his throat. 

The rippling water made him dizzy and lightheaded. His poor tummy turned itself inside out. 

A torrent of sick rushed past his lips. He felt the chunks of food on his tongue, making him gag even more. Another heave, and he filled the bowl with more brown sludge. 

This was the moment that Blair appeared in the open doorway. As soon as the speeches were done, she snuck away to check on Madix. It wasn’t difficult to find him, given the harsh sounds of vomiting. 

The door to the groom’s room was closed, but Madix had not shut the bathroom door, thinking that no one would come into the adjoining room. She closed the door behind her and pouted at the sick boy on the floor. 

“Oh, Madix, hon,” she cooed, stepping into the large bathroom. She crouched next to him and placed a hand on his back. He shuddered at her touch. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

He couldn’t say a word because his belly spasmed again. This time, tears of exertion and sadness leaked from his eyes. She touched him so gently that he couldn’t help but mumble her name. He hadn’t realized that someone else’s presence would feel so good. “Blair…Ugh, I’m so sorry.” 

She shushed him. “No, don’t say that. You have nothing to be sorry for.” She brushed his damp hair back from his face. “Oh, you’re really sick, aren’t you?” 

He nodded and leaned back against the wall. “Please don’t tell Dakota. It’s just a stomach bug.” 

Blair made a tsking noise at the foolish boy. “Honey, look at you. You’re delirious if you think I’m going to let you go on like this.” She placed her palm on his forehead. “And you’re burning up. Dakota will want to bring you back to the hotel.” 

Madix wanted to cry more, but he had no more fluid left in his body. 

“Don’t move.” Blair stood up and dusted off her dress. “We’re going to help you, you stubborn man.” 

Blair found her husband chatting with his father at one of the empty tables. Most everyone was dancing. Dakota swayed to the music, listening to his father tell a story. 

She put a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt. Babe, can I talk to you, please?” 

Dakota followed Blair into the hallway where it was quiet. He held her hand and giggled as if they were going somewhere to make out.  He sobered up when he saw her face. “What’s wrong?” 

“Your best man is an idiot.” 

“Only occasionally. What did he do?” 

Blair pinched the bridge of her nose. “He’s really sick. He didn’t want to tell you, so he’s hiding in the bathroom.” 

A confused frown brought Dakota’s brows together. His expression softened as he begun to think back. “Oh gosh, he is an idiot.”

“Would you talk some sense into him?” It was not a question. “I’ll talk to Riley and tell him what’s happening.” 

… 

Madix had resigned to sleeping on the floor, which is how Dakota found him. He pouted at the sight of his ashen complexion. 

“Mads, what the heck is this? Did you get drunk without me?” Dakota said, trying to add humour into his voice. With a groan, he lowered himself to the floor. He touched Madix’s shoulder. “Hey, you with me, buddy?” 

In a small voice, Madix mumbled, “Please don’t be mad.” 

Dakota shook his head in disbelief. “You’re such a fool. How could I be mad?” He rubbed his hand over Madix’s back as he rambled. “I suppose I could be upset that you spent the whole day lying to me. I could be upset that you didn’t let me help you before it got this bad.” Dakota just sighed. “Oh well, whatchu gonna do?” 

They sat in silence for a moment while Dakota loosened the tie around Madix’s neck. He puttered around the bathroom, flushing the toilet and wetting a cloth to wipe Madix’s face. He then knelt in front of him. “Time to sit up, Maddy.” 

Madix did as he was told, feeling his face unpeel from the floor. He groaned from the effort it took to move. His eyes were half shut when he finally looked at Dakota. “Did you have a good day at least?” 

“Yes, I did. I married my best friend.”

“We got married?” Madix slurred, letting a playful smile tug at his lips. 

Dakota chuckled. “You’ve been demoted, buddy…Nah, I’m just kidding, you’ll always be my best friend.” With gentle movements, Dakota washed the sick and sweat off Madix’s face. “God, that’s some fever. Here, let me take off your jacket.” 

They started the day with Madix dressing the groom and ended it with Dakota helping his best man out of his fever-soaked clothes.

[danafeelingsick]

having soft thoughts of a sickie feeling guilty about puking up all the food caretaker made for them with so much love and care:

sickie having to maintain appearances, even as their poor stomach revolts agaisnt the heavy meal sitting inside it

sickie who can't help but grimace at the sight/smell/texture of the food, which makes caretaker think they might've messed it up

sickie clutching/hugging their middle as they try their hardest not to puke, thinking of the smile caretaker had on as they watched them eat, thinking they finally were starting to recover

sickie who has a hand clasped over their mouth, holding it tight to keep the food in no matter what, even to the protests of caretaker who's trying to tell them to just let it out, don't try to hold it

sickie who ends up losing the barely digested food over the blankets, sobbing apologies to a caretaker who's more worried about their well-being than anything else

[eusuntgratie]

bad news: michael is still in his sexy little outfit

good news: i mostly finished the outline and have written some words

thanks for the tag @rewritetheending <3

Once he’s got everything worked out, Alex finds Michael hovering awkwardly on the sidewalk, pretty damn near naked in front of the nicest hotel in Beverly Hills. Without thinking, Alex wraps him in his jacket. It’s long enough to cover Michael enough to keep people from staring. Michael looks a little taken aback but he lets him. “I, uh. Was just gonna call a taxi.” Michael had shoved the $100 bill Alex gave him into his boot in the car. Alex strongly suspects he isn’t going to call a taxi. “Do you wanna come up?” Alex asks before he can think better of it.

no pressure tags <3

@bigassbowlingballhead @lostcol @taste-thewaste @rewritetheending @onward--upward

@basil-bird @stratocumulusperlucidus @firenati0n @firstprincehornyramblings @thighzp @stnichols

@insecuregodcomplex @faketrex @onthewaytosomewhere

[pmak2002]

You are awoken by a headbutt to your arm.

“Mm Timothee stop!” You whine.

Timothee whimpers and does it again harder this time. He seems determined almost desperate to wake you.

“It’s late Mon cher.” You say as he continues to bump his head against your arm.

He whimpers again when you roll so your back is facing him.

“I don’t feel good.”

That phrase immediately wakes you. And you turn to face him.

“What’s wrong my dear?” You ask.

“Throat, head and stomach.” He says his voice sounding horribly raspy.

You reach out to feel his head.

“Yeah you’re feverish alright.”

You sit up and turn the light on.

Timothee sits up and rubs his eyes. His stomach gurgles and rumbles.

He squirms and reaches for you. Making grabby hands.

You pull him close and hold him. He burps when you pat his stomach. He groans and tries to settle down in your arms.

“What do you need sweetheart?” You ask

He whimpers and buries his head in your neck as you hold him.

“Don’t know it’s all swirly inside and I don’t know what it wants.”

You hold him tight and kiss his head. You hold him like that until his stomach gurgles loudly and he moves away. He looks at you as sweat breaks out on his forehead.

“Bathroom?” You ask

He nods and rushes off to the bathroom. You follow him and kneel next to him as he gets on his knees to vomit.

You keep his hair out of his face with one hand and rubbed his back with the other.

He groans in between fits of vomiting.

“Hurts so bad.” He whimpers

“I know but it might help your tummy sweetheart.”

He nods and his stomach gurgles. He groans

“I think you’ll have to leave I gotta shit.”

You nod

Despite dating him for over three years at this point he was always paranoid about when his stomach was upset. He was worried about grossing you out.

(Like that one time when he got horribly sick from accidentally eating spicy food that wrecked his GI tract all night long and he refused your help because you’d be too grossed out.)

You nod and turn on the fan in the bathroom.

“There’s more toilet paper in the cabinet ok? I’ll be right outside ok?”

He nods and slowly gets up.

You step outside the bathroom and close the door behind you. You can hear him groaning and cursing to himself. Clearly in pain and miserable.

You leave him be and wait for him. You hated when he got so sick especially when it was his stomach.

As a skinny guy he would lose a lot of weight fast when his stomach would be a mess and make him so sick and weak.

Once he’s done you hear the toilet flush and then the water running in the sink.

Once he’s done washing his hands he leaves the bathroom and just about collapses into your waiting arms.

You kiss his head as you hold him in your arms.

“Icky.” He whines

“I know sweetheart.”

You move him back to bed and you cuddle him and play with his sweaty curls.

He whimpers and coughs as you hold him in bed. You gently pat his back to keep him coughing.

“Good boy.” You sooth as you coach him through the coughing fit.

“Mm. Everything hurts. I hate being sick.” He whines.

“Shh I know baby. You’ll be alright I’ve got you.”

You hold him tight and hum a little as you hold him and kiss him.

“Want to try to take something?” You ask him.

“Nu uh it’ll just come back up.”

You nod and hug him.

“You feel warm I might have to check your temperature. But let’s wait since we just got into bed.”

He nods in agreement and clings to you. You fall asleep holding him.

You spend the rest of the night alternating between sleep and taking care of Timothee when he wakes up sick.

By morning you check his temperature and give him meds for his fever. Then call Brian to cancel Timothee’s plans for the day so he can stay home and rest.

[vinelark]

hello good morning i read the fic The Long Way Home by itsnatalie this week and finished it at 1am and had to stare through the ceiling processing for another full hour having emotions over tim and jason and a sentient labyrinth and the concept of choosing kindness when it would be so much easier to choose cruelty at every turn and NOW i am stumbling back here to recommend it to everyone who might want a tim & jason (& batfam) psychological horror longfic that will knock your socks off

testimonials once i was semi-coherent (mild spoilers):

[strawwritesfic]

Joel x Female!Amputee!Reader: (Don't) Hold Your Breath [Ch. 4]

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

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

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

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

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Master List (with important note!)

Rule #4: Quit Stealing Shit

“You must have had trouble if the fence is up and running again.”

If Joel had wanted to make things tenser, he certainly got his wish. The tiny table’s atmosphere, already difficult to breathe in, became suffocating. You dragged your tired eyes away from your plate to gauge everyone else’s reaction in the long moment of silence that followed his observation. Ellie remained picking at her broccoli; Maria frowned; Tommy shrugged.

“Not really,” the last answered.

“Really?” Joel shoved his empty plate away and crossed his thick arms across his chest. “Because last I heard, you didn’t have the gas stock to keep it running 24-7.”

Tommy shifted to look at Maria, but all she did was lift her eyebrows. Apparently, no help would be coming from her. He returned his gaze back to Joel.

“Last I heard, Herbert’s group was supposed to bring us some from their scavenging trip.”

“Last I heard, they were supposed to bring you infection checkers, too.” Tommy sighed. At last, Joel’s arms unwrapped. “Tommy, face it. they aren’t coming back. They took your supplies and booked it. A trip to a border city shouldn’t take a month.”

“Joel—”

“What if they come back and try to take over?”

“It’s not Herbert’s group,” Maria said.

Joel’s eyes snapped over to her as she moved her chair back several inches from the table.

“Just a renegade hunter group. Now that people know we’re established, we’re attracting attention. It’s nothing we weren’t able to handle.”

“Then what was with the fence?”

“Just in case they came back,” Tommy answered. “It hasn’t been on the last couple of times. We figured if we melted a few of their faces, they might think twice about showing up again.”

Joel regarded Maria seriously for a moment, but before he could ask any further questions, Ellie’s bright eyes caught the food remaining on your plate. “You gonna eat your meat?” she asked.

Scowling, you pushed the dinnerware at her. Then you slumped back in your chair. Giving Ellie your food was the last thing you wanted to do—you were still starving, not that that was unusual—but no one had offered to cut the fucking stuff. It was too tough to manage with a fork; your knife lay obviously untouched in front of you.

Ellie laughed as she tucked in. It looked as though Joel wasn’t finished with his previous train of thought, however.

Tommy must have noticed that, too, because he shifted his chair so that he faced you instead. “Let’s take a look at your arm.”

You thrust the stump up at his face without further ceremony. He caught it between his palms, and your eyes slid away from his face. Joel’s brother’s easy-going nature was more off-putting than Joel and Ellie put together. Besides, you didn’t want to look at the rust-colored stains seeping through the bottom edge of your bandages.

“Hm,” said Tommy. “We’ll have to do this up again to prevent any more blood loss, but I think you’ll live. Ellie, you do up this tourniquet?”

Ellie’s eyes widened. She swallowed her mouthful of your food before answering: “Sure did!”

“You learn this in class?”

She shrugged, the spitting image of her uncle, or whatever the fuck Tommy was supposed to be. You didn’t understand these people. They ate dinner around a table, with chipped plates and camping silverware, like that was somehow fucking normal.

“I read it in a book I picked up. Trying to be…” Ellie trailed away, rubbing the back of her head and looking pointedly away from Joel, whose sharp eyes were upon her. “...more useful.”

No one said anything to that. You wondered if that had anything to do with that Messiah complex of hers that Joel kept mentioning, the one that was supposed to have landed you in that tiny, suffocating room in a power plant with people you didn’t know and certainly didn’t like.

The walkie-talkie at Maria’s hip gurgled with static. She placed a hand over it without answering, but got to her feet the very next second. Ellie blinked up at her until Maria announced, “I’ve got to get going.” Then she looked back at Ellie. “And speaking of class, you’ve missed enough. You can come with me until we reach the school building.”

“But—” Ellie broke off to throw a pleading look at Joel’s direction. He gestured for her to follow Maria; Ellie’s shoulders slumped. Still, she got to her feet. Before the door swung shut behind her, you distinctly heard Ellie mutter, “Bunch of ungrateful fucks.” Joel laughed. “See you at dinner, Ellie.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

With the other two women gone, the room didn’t feel any calmer. You felt your remaining muscles tense, even when you didn’t bother to look back at Tommy or Joel. Joel laughing was the weirdest thing to happen yet. He looked just as likely to find something humorous as Maria—though even she seemed to smile a lot around Ellie. What was with that kid? Was she dying? Were they all just humoring her?

No. No one else could be that stupid.

As another stroke of pain in your missing arm coursed through you, you realized that you were still staring at the door where she had left. Much as the kid annoyed you, you had to admit you felt more displaced than ever without her there. Fuck. You hastily grabbed your glass and took a swig of lukewarm water, then asked, “You have a school?”

When you hazarded a glance upward, Tommy smiled. Joel remained scowling at you, but who the fuck cared what he thought at that point? Not you, that was for damn sure.

As seemed to be his practice, Tommy shrugged. “Nothing major. Basic writing and reading, some math. Just enough to get the kids by in the world. Ellie spent some time in a military boarding school, so she’s ahead in that respect.”

“She’d be ahead in all respects if she’d quit insisting on going on these trips,” Joel broke in. It was probably just your exhaustion talking—your vision was starting to pulse again, and it was taking quite a bit effort to keep yourself sitting up in your chair—but you thought you heard a hint of pride in his voice. “I keep telling her I can handle it—”

“—But she always says the same thing: ‘We go together.’” Tommy grinned.

Joel rolled his eyes, got to his feet, and placed his plastic cup at the end of a row of other cups. “She’s just afraid I’m gonna ditch her ass and take up smuggling again.”

“Well, you’d have a hell of a time doing it,” said Tommy.

You had been entirely forgotten. Seeing as you weren’t dying, it would be perfectly fine to just let you sit there and faint again. Probably you’d wake up on the floor. It wasn’t as though Joel gave enough of a shit to put you anywhere you’d actually want to be. While you mentally grumped about this, Tommy continued:

“Not sure how many more quarantine zones are still in effect. Speaking of, we just had a group from your old base come a few days back. You didn’t make too many bad enemies, did you?”

“None that I can’t handle.”

The corners of Tommy’s mouth twitched down, but he must not have been in the mood to bicker with his brother. He instead returned his attention back to you, clasping his hands in front of him and looking at his fingers, as though your face was unpleasant. Hell, it probably was. Bathing was a luxury you frequently weren’t afforded, and you were pretty sure you’d broken your nose in a fight a few weeks back. For all you knew, all that fucking blood remained dried across your upper lip.

“Speaking of teaching,” Tommy said, with an air of having to force the words out, “we might have you do that, if you’ve got anything worth teaching. You can’t hunt in your condition, and we can’t let you stay for free.”

“I don’t like kids,” you said mulishly. Joel hadn’t moved from over by the wall, but you saw his hands contract into fists. Hastily, you added, “I’ve done worse in exchange for room and board, though.”

“What’s that mean?” Tommy asked.

You took a leaf out of his book and shrugged in answer. The throbbing in your eyes got stronger, but you did not want either Joel or Tommy to think you were weaker than you already were. Focusing on remaining upright unfortunately left you completely open to surprise when Joel smashed his hands into the table in front of you.

“Shit!” you said, but broke away when you found his angry face only a few inches away from your nose.

“Are you a Firefly?” he growled.

“Were you ever a Firefly?”

“Fuck no, I wasn’t a Firefly!” you snapped. Though you twisted somewhat frantically in his grip, Joel didn’t let go. “Lay off!”

But Joel didn’t let go. His fingers only grew tighter around you, and tighter still. You didn’t have the strength to fight him off. One of your feet smashed into his shin, but you might as well have been made of feathers for all the effect that had. A horrible note of hysteria started to crawl up your throat, but before it could clamber out, Tommy said, quite pleasantly:

“Joel, would you kindly not hurt my guests when they aren’t actively trying to murder you?”

“Tommy, do you know why this woman doesn’t have one of her arms? Did Ellie make you aware of that little detail?”

“She did.” He inclined his head. “And, like Ellie, I’m pretty sure she would have turned by now, unless she’s immune.”

“That doesn’t make things okay.”

“Joel.”

With something that sounded very like a snarl, Joel released you, threw his hands into the air, and then stalked back over to the cups. “You and Ellie are going to be the fucking end of me.”

“She already was,” said Tommy.

Meanwhile, your vision had practically gone. Struggle as you might have, you just couldn’t remain sitting up straight. Through the fog, you saw Tommy’s head turn back to you.

“Now, I know you’re probably tired—”

“Figured that out, have you?” you asked, voice raspy. Dammit. At this rate, Joel was going to have the last laugh.

“Yes, I suppose I have. We’ll get you to a room here in a minute, and you can take a nap. No need to worry about your job or station today. But before you go, I’m going to need your name.”

“None of your fucking business.”

“We need something to go by,” he insisted. “And even if you are a Firefly, it’s not as though we have a stash of medals to check. Now, if you don’t give me your name, I suppose I’ll have to do as Joel suggested and lock you up until we have a better idea of who you are.”

So they weren’t going to lock you up either way? What a bunch of fucking morons. What if you were with that group they talked about earlier? What if you were a Trojan horse? But you were too tired to fuck around with them. All you wanted to do was curl up somewhere away from Joel and Ellie and sleep.

“[Name],” you said shortly.

“Family name?” Joel growled. You summoned up enough energy to glare straight across the room at him.

“Hasn’t mattered in fifteen years,” you said. “Can’t imagine why it’d matter now.”

“You—”

Tommy lifted a hand. “Maria and I are the ones running this joint, Joel. A first name’s good enough for me.”

The sound of his chair scraping against the concrete floor jolted you enough awake to get to your own feet. Standing was difficult, but not impossible, and no way in hell were you going to let Joel see anyone else carrying you or otherwise offering support. You shot him a defiant glare, then followed Tommy out of the room. Joel’s footsteps sounded behind you shortly after; you made the decision to pointedly ignore him. Getting an idea of your surroundings would benefit you better than giving him the time of day anyhow. You only caught snatches of conversation from the two of them, most following the same subject:

“You know, if you hate Ellie following you out there—”

“I don’t.”

After leading you outside for a short walk, Tommy ducked into another building, and you followed suit. Grated windows lit the gray walls every so often. Several doors led off to what you could only assume were other rooms. Busted cabinets and drawers littered the way; several times Tommy had to shove past them. As you passed one such cabinet, you caught a glimpse of a pair of familiar handles. It occurred to you that Ellie had taken both your pistol and her knife with her when she and Maria had left.

You feigned a stumble, snatched the scissors, and slid them into the pocket of your jacket. The shaking as you righted yourself was completely natural, and had Tommy looked at you with worry in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” you said, but a moment later, Joel’s hand was on your shoulder again, pushing you into the wall.

“Give it back,” he snarled.

“Give what back?” you asked.

“Don’t play fucking stupid with me.”

“I didn’t do—”

But his fingers slid into your pocket to wrench out your newly-acquired weapon. His eyes looked pointedly at the scissors, then at you. If you hadn’t been so worried he was going to punch your face in, you would have shoved your own hands sullenly into both of your pockets. With a scoff, Joel threw the scissors back into the drawer.

“Quit stealing shit,” he said. “That ain’t yours. Nothing here is yours.”

“It’s just a pair of fucking scissors,” you shouted as he released and wandered back up the hall the way your trio had been headed. “You want me to run around with absolutely no way to defending myself?”

“If it’d get you outta my hair quicker.”

He wasn’t looking—no doubt he had some idea of your intentions anyway—so you took the scissors back before scuttling after him. Tommy watched you all the while. It was his fucking settlement. If he didn’t care, why the fuck should Joel? Maybe that explained the extremely dour look Joel threw him when you caught up to them.

Tommy didn’t say anything about your so-called theft. He reached past you to turn the knob on a nearby door. Inside lay a dark, drank room taken up mostly by something that must have helped power the plant in its heyday. Several musty, moth-eaten blankets and a smashed pillow were jammed up on a cement slab beside the boxy equipment. Only you stepped in; there wasn’t enough room for anyone else.

“You can stay in here,” Tommy said from behind you. “We’ll have Ell—We’ll have someone come get you when it’s time for dinner. We’ll be eating as a community. Maybe you’ll find someone you know.”

“That would be fucking fantastic.” You could hardly muster up the appropriate sarcasm.

Tommy let out a dry chuckle. “Now where have I heard that before?”

“Don’t start, Tommy,” said Joel.

You turned back and flipped him the bird before setting your bag down and walking over to the bed. A nap seemed very much in order.

“You’re welcome,” Joel said. Huh. Maybe Ellie was his daughter.

You flipped him off a second time without looking. “Fuckin’ A, man.”

When Tommy shut the door, you got the feeling it was to hide you from view as quickly as possible.

[gblogg]

Daniel gets the flu

--------

Something I wrote to stretch my fingers and get back into the feeling of writing. It's nothing special, but it's something.

Daniel had always prided himself on his strong immune system, especially given his job as a preschool teacher, constantly surrounded by sneezes, coughs, and runny noses. But today was different. He could feel it as he left work, his stomach churning uncomfortably. By the time he reached his car, he was sweating and shivering simultaneously. 

Leaning his head against the steering wheel, he fumbled for his phone and typed out a quick message to Luna.

D: Lu, I’m feeling awful. Think I caught something from the kids. I'm heading home now :(

As he started the car, his phone buzzed with her reply.

Lu: Oh no, babe. Come home quickly. I’ll be here waiting for you.

The drive home felt endless, each bump in the road exacerbating the nausea that had settled deep in his stomach. By the time he pulled into the driveway, he was certain he wouldn’t make it inside without being sick.

Stumbling out of the car, Daniel made his way to the front door, fumbling with the keys. The door swung open, and Luna was there, her face a mix of concern and love.

“Baby, you look terrible,” she said, reaching out to steady him.

Daniel groaned, his face pale and clammy. “I feel worse than I look,” he admitted, barely able to keep his voice steady. “I think it’s the stomach flu.”

Luna guided him inside, her touch gentle but firm. “Let’s get you to bed,” she said, leading him towards their bedroom. But halfway down the hall, Daniel’s stomach lurched violently.

He wasn’t able to speak as he started feeling his lunch in his throat. He bolted for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before he started vomiting.

The force of it made him gag and heave, his body emptying itself with a violent intensity. He gripped the edge of the toilet bowl, his knuckles white, as wave after wave of nausea wracked his body. Luna knelt beside him, rubbing his back soothingly.

“It’s okay, baby. Just let it out,” she murmured, her voice calm and comforting.

Daniel retched again, a loud, guttural sound that echoed in the small bathroom. His stomach spasmed painfully, expelling its contents in a series of agonising heaves. He gasped for breath between bouts, tears streaming down his face from the effort.

“Ugh, this is horrible..” he managed to say between retches, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I know, D. Just get it all out,” Luna said, continuing to rub his back. Her presence was a balm to his misery, grounding him as his body purged itself.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the vomiting subsided. Daniel slumped against the cool porcelain of the toilet, completely spent. Luna handed him a damp washcloth, and he wiped his face with a shaky hand.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, feeling weak and lightheaded. 

Luna smiled softly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Which one of them gave you this now? Don’t tell me it was Megan. Poor thing is always sick.”

Daniel chuckled weakly, appreciating her attempt to lighten the mood. “I honestly don’t know which one it was this time,” He burped lightly against his fist, grimacing slightly.

She helped him to his feet, guiding him to the sink where he rinsed his mouth out. “Straight to bed with you,” she said again, and this time, he didn’t resist.

Once in the bedroom, Luna tucked him in, placing a trash can beside the bed just in case. “Do you need anything? Water? Ginger ale?”

“Just you,” he said, reaching out for her hand.

She climbed into bed beside him, wrapping her arms around him. “Alright, alright. Try to rest.”

Daniel closed his eyes, comforted by her warmth and presence. But sleep was elusive. The nausea, while less intense, still simmered in his stomach, and every so often he’d moan softly in discomfort.

“I really hope this is a 24-hour bug,” he said after a while, his voice thick with exhaustion.

“I hope so too” she added, her fingers tracing soothing patterns on his back. She kissed his forehead, whispering. “Okay, go to sleep”

Daniel smiled, “Did you just shush me?” Luna giggled at that and hugged him tighter. 

They lay together in silence for a while, the room dark and quiet except for the occasional groan from Daniel as his stomach continued to churn. Luna’s presence was a constant comfort, and she loved a steady anchor in the storm of his illness.

Just as he was starting to drift off, another wave of nausea hit, and he bolted upright, reaching for the trash can. Luna was right there with him, rubbing his back as he retched again, his body convulsing with the effort.

“It’s okay, baby. Just let it out,” she said softly, her voice a soothing balm to his misery.

He heaved again, his stomach empty but still spasming painfully. When it finally subsided, he collapsed back onto the bed, utterly spent. “Fuck..” he muttered.

Hours passed in a blur of nausea and brief moments of fitful sleep. Luna’s unwavering presence made the ordeal a little more bearable, and as the night wore on, he began to feel a glimmer of hope that the worst was behind him.

By the early hours of the morning, the nausea had finally started to subside. Daniel lay in bed, exhausted but grateful for Luna’s care. “Thank you, Lu,” he said, his voice hoarse from vomiting. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” she replied, snuggling close to him. “Now, try to get some rest. We’ll get you feeling better soon.”

Daniel nodded, closing his eyes as he let himself relax into the comfort of her embrace. As he drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky to have someone like Luna by his side, someone who loved him unconditionally, no matter what. 

[damthosefandoms]

“it’s exposure therapy” she says, becoming a hypochondriac halfway through an education degree and going on to work in an elementary school

[izzy-b-hands]

The good news: I captured the flying bug from yesterday

The bad news: ...you guys remember how Sally dropped the bell jar on her cupcake in that one Taskmaster task? Well, I was using a mug we never use to try and cover him, and I'm very sorry.

[jurassicsickfics]

idk if youre still taking requests, but you should write a sickfic for Carrie where billy has to reluctantly take care of a very sick chris 😌

The way I got so excited when I saw this request! Yass!! Hope you enjoy!

It was a normal day at Bates High. With Carrie quietly doodling on paper in a corner, Norma re-braiding her pigtails and, of course, Chris strutting into the room with the usual look in her eye of smart remarks just waiting to be fired off. Naturally, she went for Carrie. Most of the kids in the room laughed as the bullied girl started silently crying. Chris broke out into a laugh. "Aww, look at her! She's such a crybaby!" She said in a mocking tone. Billy stood behind Chris, smirking.

"Poor, poor Carrie! Is crying your answer to everything, freak? I don't know how anyone could-" she stopped in her tracks. "O-oh..."

The room went quiet. "What?" Norma asked.

"I-I...Um...I gotta...gotta go." Chris stuttered before bolting for the door. Her stomach decided she wouldn't be making it to the bathroom, so she was forced to drop to her knees over the trashcan by the teacher's desk...in front of everybody.

Billy just stood there, an indifferent look on his face. He felt eyes on him, and when he noticed other students gesturing to Chris, he rolled his eyes and walked over to his puking girlfriend. He gave her a couple of half-hearted back pats before turning his attention away from her again.

Chris stopped vomiting, and the retching sounds were quickly replaced by sobs. Sobs of both mortification and misery. The blonde looked up at Billy, a pitiful, "help me" sort of look on her face. He once again rolled his eyes, before reaching down and wiping her mouth with his thumb.

"There. Happy?"

This only made Chris cry harder. No, of course she wasn't happy. She'd just barfed in front of everyone and all he could do was wipe her mouth?! Come on! He wasn't even sweet about it, either.

"What are you crying for? You just puked, chill. "

Chris sniffled and swiped her wrist across her runny nose. "I need to go home, Billy..." she moaned.

"Ok, I'll drive you. Come on." Billy said, turning to leave the room. After a few steps he realized she didn't follow him.

"Are you coming or what?" He asked. Chris shook her head. "My belly hurts ..."

Billy was confused. "Yeah, I gathered that when you barfed, babe. Now c'mon."

More sobs from Chris made Billy finally get the message.

"Oh for the love of... fine, come here." He said, scooping her up into a bridal hold.

Chris nuzzled into his shoulder and let out a soft burp. "Don't puke on me." Billy said as he started to carry her out of the school.

Soon, the two teenagers were at home. Chris was laid out on the bathroom floor, a cold cloth on her forehead and a blanket draped over her hip. "Billy...I don't feel good..." she whined, shivering against the cold tile floor.

"I know. I gotcha." He said, trying to muster a sympathetic look as he rubbed her leg. He never was good at this comfort thing.

Suddenly, Chris sprung up out of her lying position and lurched for the toilet again, gagging loudly and gushing vomit.

Billy cringed. He was not at all used to seeing Chris like this. She was usually a dainty girly-girl, and the gross, obnoxious gagging and belching sounds coming from her were extremely out of character.

As she finished throwing up, she turned to Billy again. "Babe..i wanna cuddle in bed..."

Billy sighed. "Not until you quit spewing every few minutes." He replied.

"Babe, please! I don't feel good...I just wanna get warm and sleep..." Chris begged, tears dripping down her cheeks.

Billy sighed. "Ok ok, fine." With that he helped her up and they made their way to bed. Billy wasn't too excited about cuddling his sick girlfriend; any other time, he loved holding her. But when she just puked and could do it again any moment? Nothing cuddly about that.

As the two settled into bed, Chris cuddled into Billy, her head on his chest. She shivered even though she was covered in blankets and dressed in warm pajamas.

Billy flipped through channels on TV, finally feeling relaxed enough to rub her back after a few minutes without incident. "How ya feeling, hot stuff?" He asked.

For a moment, he got no response, but suddenly he heard a, "hrk, hrk, hrk..." sound.

"Chris? Christine don't you dare-"

Too late...he was soaked....

This was gonna be a very long night for Billy.

[milf-murdock]

Oh my god I am so fucking ill.

[syncast-err0r]

BIITTTTCCCCHHHH WHAT WAS I THINKINGN FMEJFKKFJGK FUCKKK ME

[whimsyvixen]

𝔼𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕪 𝔹𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕤

Silent Hill Fic Rating: 18+ Pairing: Pyramid Head x Female Reader Synopsis/Excerpt: His helmet had jerked your way, the sudden movement making your heart drop to your stomach. You couldn't look away from him, mouth agape at the towering menace. You didn't understand how, but you felt him peruse your form--nausea hitting you when he let out a guttural growl and headed straight for you. WARNINGS/TAGS: Dark fic, rape/noncon elements, extremely dubious consent, explicit content, blood play, heavy NSFW, teratophilia(?), monster/human, choking, dacryphilia, rough sex, unprotected sex, forced orgasm, tummy bulge, creampie, very obvious size difference. ⚠️ READ THE TAGS: Please be aware this work contains content that the reader may feel uncomfortable with or otherwise triggered by. DO NOT READ if bothered by tags (no minors). ⚠️

A/N: I had to make sure to finish this one before Halloween! Sorry for the long wait, you guys! I got no tricks with me so I'm just going to hand over this little treat right here ! 🍬

You hid beneath a large table, hands over your mouth to control your breathing as the floor shook. You could feel your heart beating intensely, the organ wanting to burst out of your chest as pure terror seized you when the footsteps paused near your hiding spot.

He was right in front of you. The only being you encountered in the desolate town of Silent Hill.

The monster. 

~

He had emerged out of an alley, swarmed by bugs as he trudged his way through, his massive frame freezing you in place. His head was encumbered by a steel frame, pyramid in its shape and heavy in appearance if his tortured groans were anything to go by. His scarred torso and bulging arms were bare, showcasing the immense power he held as he dragged a massive knife behind him.

You couldn't contain your gasp when you caught sight of it.

His helmet had jerked your way, the sudden movement making your heart drop to your stomach. You couldn't look away from him, mouth agape at the towering menace. You didn't understand how, but you felt him peruse your form--nausea hitting you when he let out a guttural growl and headed straight for you.

Fuck!

You bolted then, nearly tripping over your own feet in your desperation to get away from him. With the amount of blood soaking him and those unnerving growls, you weren't willing to take a chance and find out what he would do to you. Too afraid to look back, you continued running in the abandoned town, losing sight of where you were as you tried to find somewhere to hide. 

What buildings you could make out were old and rundown, their windows smashed and doors creaking ominously. They would not provide you with the cover you needed. You could faintly hear him behind you, breaking into a cold sweat when you turned your head and couldn't spot him in the dense fog. 

When you caught sight of the abandoned school, your lungs felt like bursting and your legs ached from overexerting yourself to run. Your body needed to rest before you collapsed from the fatigue. It was a large enough building that finding you would be a tasking ordeal for the monster. Perhaps he would give up his search for you and allow you to find a way out of this hellish place. You could only hope that you lost him earlier and he wouldn’t know where you crawled off to. 

Running up the steps to the entrance, you were met with the despairing sight of chains wrapped around the steel doors. 

“No, no, no…” you pleaded, grabbing onto the chains in hopes they were loose enough to open the doors. Luck was on your side, because they were– chains pulling taut around the doors, opening just enough to allow someone to squeeze through with some difficulty. Struggling to wiggle your way through, you pushed with all your might and breathed a sigh of relief when you fell inside. 

Taking deep breaths, you looked around and tried to make sense of your surroundings. Needing to squint your eyes to adjust seeing in the dark, you could see a narrow hallway with dirty and rusty lockers lined along the walls. It was an uncanny sight, the broken down doors of the classrooms and splintering wood of the floor making you realize how decrepit this place was. It was so unkempt and old that you flinched when the floorboards creaked with every step you took. You felt like dying every time the floor protested your weight and critters ran spooked by the noise.

The hall turned a sharp corner to the left, more lockers and doors appearing on either side of the walls as before. It was then you noticed the broken elevator, the metal frame twisted in sharp angles and torn cables dangling from tears in the ceiling. If there was an elevator here, then that must mean there was a way up! 

Not caring this time about the noise you made, you hurried to the end of the hall trying to see if you could find some way to get to the second floor. If you could just get there, you would have the advantage of viewing who (or what) was below you on the ground. Maybe even spot a route or path out of this place. Passing by the restrooms, you nearly gagged when a putrid stench hit your nose. The buzzing of flies and roaches in the area made you squeamish, your face scrunching into a disgusted grimace at the dirty facilities before continuing your trek forward.

Finding the stairs was a much harder task than you expected. Faced with multiple locked areas of the building, you were forced to backtrack and navigate through other sections of the building to find another way up. It seemed like a dead end everywhere you turned. 

Just when you were about to give up, you finally spotted stairs leading to the upper floor. 

“Finally,” you muttered in exasperation. Your turtle neck shirt was damp with your sweat, clinging to your body so uncomfortably that you would definitely need a shower soon. Placing a hand on the cracked wall nearest you, you took a breather, closing your eyes as you tried to get your energy back up again. 

“Just a little bit more. Don’t give up yet.” 

Forcing your aching feet to move, you headed tiredly towards the stairs. Once you reached them, you walked up to the landing, turning left to continue climbing forward when you noticed something. 

“You have got to be kidding me?!”

A disbelieving look crossed your face. In front of you was a dilemma that nearly made you scream in frustration. The only way to the upper floor was barricaded with chairs and tables, furniture piled up haphazardly along the second set of stairs as if to ensure no one could get by it. It effectively put a stop to your plans. 

Maybe you could climb over the obstruction? No, you couldn’t risk something falling out of place and crushing you with its weight, causing you harm in the end. You thought about using the railing to skip past the hurdle of furniture, but hearing the creak of the brittle handrail when you held it had you rethinking that idea. Placing your hands on your hips, you tried thinking of how to get past this obstacle. Maybe taking it apart little by little would help?

Seeing as you had no choice, you started dismantling the barricade one chair at a time. The tables were too heavy and had your arms shaking from the effort of pulling them so you left them for last. Once you piled up enough chairs to give you room to move one of the tables, you shook your hands to prepare them to take the brunt of the weight. 

While you were busy with this task, you didn’t know you damned yourself.

What you didn’t know was when you squeezed through the gap of the entrance, your sweater caught on an edge and tore a strip of the pink cloth. You didn’t know it was like a beacon, its vibrant color contrasting from the dull and bleak setting of the school. You didn’t know he held it in his bloodied hand, bringing it to his hidden face as if to smell you. You didn’t see the shudder that went through him. You also didn't see him bursting through the shackled entrance of the school, breaking the chain to pieces as the steel doors lay bent beneath his foot.

However, you did feel the building shake following a loud crash. 

Startled at the muffled explosion, you released the legs of the table you were holding, crouching as you looked around wildly. The echoed sounds of doors being forced open could then be heard even from a distance. Lockers were slammed and torn off the walls, the clash of metal producing an awful screeching sound that resonated across the empty building.

What?! What was that?! You panicked internally, palms sweating as you hid behind the railing. What could’ve made that thunderous sound? Was it him?! It couldn’t be, could it? Trembling with fear, you realized you were a sitting duck. You couldn't go back the way you came or you’ll risk facing what caused that loud commotion.

When you heard a familiar growl, you couldn’t stop the tiny sob escaping your lips. It was HIM! When his steps edged closer to your location, your eyes wandered desperately around your cornered space and spotted a clothed table at the bottom of the stairs. Running down the stairs, you all but crawled beneath the table, tucking your feet in as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. You didn’t have any other option. The cloth provided you with enough cover to pull off not being seen and you could only pray you weren't found.

Eyes wide with fear, you held your breath when he turned the corner, the floor trembling with every heavy step of his boots. You could also hear the scrape of the giant sword he dragged with him, the shrill sound hurting your ears. You nearly bolted when you heard the locker doors being opened one by one before getting slammed shut.

Oh God, please, don't let him find me. Please, please, please. You shut your eyes tightly, clasping your hands against your mouth as you tried to keep as quiet as you could. The corner of your eyes teared up, a lump in your throat wanting to give way to sobs of distress the closer he got.

~

His trudging steps slowed as he surveyed the area. 

Pyramid Head tilted his head curiously, his helmet creaking with the action. He didn’t know where you hid but he could sense you near. When he pressed that piece of fabric to his helmed head, your intoxicating aroma set his nerves of fire, twisting his mind into a lustful haze–the urge to pillage and kill you getting stronger by the minute. 

When he heard that soft gasp earlier in the alley, he was stunned by your feminine form mere meters away from him. You were a small thing compared to him, the top of your head not even reaching his chest. Whatever surprise he felt was momentary, desire quickly flooding his veins as he drank in your lovely shape. How long since a pretty thing like you entered this infernal domain? How easy would it be to subdue you and make you a slave to his lust? What sounds could he coax from those wet lips of yours? His member twitched to life beneath his withered skirt, the thought of possessing you clouding his mind with lascivious images of your naked body beneath him.

When he took a step towards you, you ran like a frightened lamb.

Watching you turn around to flee– the distance growing between you with every passing second– Pyramid Head gripped his weapon tightly, anger consuming him as he followed right after you. 

As if he would allow you to escape him. 

He would take you. Tarnish that soft flesh and desecrate your soul until you were nothing but a bloody heap beneath him. 

He just needed to catch you first. 

Opening the lockers one by one, he couldn’t suppress his frustrated grumbles when you weren’t there. Where were you? He shifted his attention to the familiar clutter of furniture on the staircase, noting how neatly some chairs were piled in a corner–knowing that the times he’s ventured here, the chairs were never tampered in such a way. 

Realizing how close he must be to capturing you, he started up the stairs, dropping his weapon without a care as he tore down the barricade in a frenzy to find you. 

When his search proved fruitless, the veins in his arms and neck became more prominent from his fury. WHERE WERE YOU? Blind with rage, he smashed his fists against the broken furniture and the rotting walls, tearing everything in his wake as he roared loud enough to make his helmet vibrate violently from the sound. It hurt enough to cause him to rupture something and bleed, trails of blood dripping down his neck to mix with the blood of his other victims.

As he stood breathing heavily on the landing of the stairs, trying to shake off the cloud of anger consuming him, a faint creak was heard downstairs. He twisted his body to look behind him, crazily observing the area where he heard it from. 

There was a lone table. The once white cloth adorning it was an ugly shade of brown, time not being kind to as it had torn holes ruining it. He could care less about the useless piece of cloth. What had his undivided attention was the dainty fingers that could be seen poking out beneath it. 

There was a moment of silence before he charged down the stairs. 

Gripping the sides of the table, he flung it across the hall, old wood shattering to pieces when it smacked against the railing of the stairs. He paid little mind to the destruction he created, his focus landing entirely on your meek figure below him. A look of horror crossed your face, mouth open in shock as you stared up at him. A rumble of contentment echoed within his helmet having finally found his prize, quickly dropping down to his knees to grab you and pin you between his legs.

It didn’t take much to overpower you, Pyramid Head sitting on your thighs to lessen your squirming. Bunching the pink fabric in his hands, he tore your sweater apart like paper, your startled scream doing little to deter him. His bloodied hands groped the exposed flesh hungrily, smudging your torso with the red substance as you shrieked in disgust. The way the softness of your tummy gave under his firm hands had him addicted. He loved how weak and pliant your flesh was.

Your mounds were a sight too, spilling off the cups of the small band around your chest. He tore that off easily too, your bust jiggling from the action and making him groan at the sight. Much to his pleasure, he saw your skin pebble with goosebumps, the cool air of the room turning your nipples into tight buds.

His hands moved, thick fingers stroking over your breasts to test the doughy texture. You gasped, arching from the pressure, unknowingly pushing your chest against his palms. Much to your chagrin, the rough pads of his fingers sent a fire bolt careening from your nipples and through your quivering belly to ignite heat into your core. You bit your lip, ignoring the sensation as you tried shoving his hands away with your feeble strength. When he tugged harshly on the tips of your breasts, you let out a pained whine, the kittenish sound sending a shock of pleasure down his spine. He wished to tear you apart, bathe in your essence as he drank up your tortured cries.

He was reluctant to pull his hands away from you, your body smeared in a beautiful canvas of blood, but his need to fully claim you could not be denied.  Pyramid Head removed his hands from your breasts with a final rough squeeze, shifting one to rub his erection to alleviate some of his need, while the other hand trailed down to caress your clothed hip possessively.

He was bewitched by you, reverently stroking your skin with bloodied hands to dirty your purity. Shielding your breasts from his view, you were a vision with your head turned to the side, choking on a sob as you realized that despite how your mind protested his brutish touches, your body betrayed you when slickness dripped between your thighs.

At war with yourself, you didn't pay attention when his attention turned to the last article of clothing preserving your modesty.

Easing up on his weight, he shifted his body down to tug at your black jeans. When the tight fabric stuck around your hips, he grew irritated at the minor inconvenience. Before you could voice out a protest, he roughly flipped you over onto your stomach, shock coursing through you when he tore the denim to shreds at your sides, dragging the rest of it down your legs and taking your panties and shoes with them.

You could feel the heat in your face at the state of your nudity. He caressed your ass then– forcing an undignified yelp from you at the offensive touch– squeezing the globes on either palm, his nails digging into the fat hard enough to leave lasting bruises on your unblemished skin. 

"N-no! You're hurting me!" 

You hissed between your teeth, sharp aches blossoming from where his fingers pressed on your ass. You shivered with disgust when the blood on his hands dirtied your globes, matching it with the mess of your front.

Brushing a calloused finger along your vulva, he was met with the heat of your pussy. It had your body jerking to attention, the blood draining from your face in an instant. When he tried to insert the bloody finger inside you, you shook erratically, your hands scrambling for purchase on the floor to get away from him. 

Tired of your antics, he twisted you to your back, uncaring of the yelp that left you when the back of your head hit the floor with a loud thud. Holding you down with one hand around your neck, he nearly choked you as he began pulling impatiently at the fastenings of his long skirt to jerk himself free with his other. His body shook with excitement, enticed by your naked flesh even as you begged sweetly under him. 

He paid little mind to your frantic scratching on his arm, the pain miniscule when compared to the hard throbbing of his cock— the twitching member pulsating so strongly that it had his mind blazing from the painful pressure, a groan of distress escaping him the longer it was kept confined. Pain that would only be soothed once he was encompassed by the tight walls of your pussy. 

~

The state of your mind went into a panic when you saw it. What lay between those muscled thighs was a monstrosity. It would bring you nothing but pure anguish and misery, the way it could barely spring upward with its heavy weight. Accompanied by an equally heavy set of balls and prominent veins lining the length of it– it was more of an instrument of pain than that of pleasure, meant to punish and brutalize those that fell victim to it. 

A whimper left you before you started thrashing in earnest, clawing away at his arm to get away from that. 

"LET GO OF ME! NO! Y-YOU CAN'T-!" 

You didn't care that he could snap your neck in a second, didn't care that he could rip you limb from limb or crush your head with his bare hands. Those were much better options than the alternative he was hellbent on pursuing. 

What the hell?! How can he be that bi-!!? Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt monstrous hands grip your knees and pull them apart savagely, screaming at the painful ache in your pelvis following the rough motion. He knelt between your spread legs, his large thighs forcing you open and leaving you unable to close your legs.

"W-wait! Wait! Think about what you're doing, please?! It's not possi-?!" 

The blunt head of his cock tapped your entrance, the pearl of precum mixing with your wetness as he tried to nudge his way in. His size proved too much for your smaller frame, his dick sliding up your vulva in a failed attempt to penetrate you. The insistent push of his hips had you holding your breath, body freezing in place when the head of his cock threatened to breach your cunt only to slide along your labia once more. 

The rough motion had you panting, the repeated nudging on your clit causing your pelvis to twitch from the erotic stimulation. You couldn’t stop your body’s reaction to him, a pulsating heat shimmering beneath your skin. Taking a glance down, you shuddered at the sight of his cock sandwiched between your spread lips. It had your feminine channel burning for him despite your fear of him. Shame accompanied your arousal as you felt more of your natural fluids coating the underside of his dick and flowing down your ass in rivulets.

While you lay gasping at the dizzying sensation, you were ignorant to his growing agitation when he missed his mark again. He raised your hips higher, giving himself a better view of your leaking hole before grabbing his wet shaft with one hand and lining himself up once more. This time he was determined to properly defile you.

Your eyes fluttered open when he adjusted you, looking up at him in confusion as you tried to clear your mind. The momentary pleasure he had given you was obliterated in a second when you felt the press of his cock head stab its first inch inside your dripping pussy. 

Like a bucket of cold water hitting your face, you shrieked when the reality of your situation set in. Flinching from his touch, you tried twisting your hips away from him hoping to dislodge the stiff cock from its journey inside you. 

"No! You won't fit!"

Bucking your hips uselessly, you failed to realize that your swirling hips moved pleasantly around the tip, a dribble of cum shooting out of his cock to coat your insides– making you gasp when you felt it and him shudder strongly at the feel of your sweet cunt. Seeing how you were so lubricated for him, he repositioned himself above you, bracing a foot on the floor while keeping the other leg bent at the knee. Grabbing the back of your knees, he pushed them forward near your head, effectively placing you in a mating press of sorts.

Not giving you any time to protest, he thrusted half of himself in one diligent push.

You yelped at the sudden pain, eyes nearly popping out of your face as you felt your pussy stretch beyond its limit. Glimmer of tears rushed to your eyes, the pain making your mouth wobble as he pulled away– the drag of his cock against your inner walls nearly causing you to faint– only to cry out when he thrusted back in with more force. More of his cock violated your sore insides, rendering you a screaming mess as he continued to plunder your wrecked form. Too scared to look at the damage between your legs, you pushed against his firm stomach, pleading for him to stop or he'll kill you. 

A sharp jab into your swollen flesh had you crying out, arching your back as tears trailed down your face. No manner of preparation could’ve made his passage bearable, the stark difference between his gargantuan size and your regular size evident as you struggled to accommodate him.

He took you like a brute. Not caring about your distressed wails.

It hurt.

Maybe the pain was making you delirious, but beneath the agony, there was a thread of pleasure seeping through the cracks. You refused to believe it, the thought of your body betraying you in such a way nearly crumbling you.

…

…

 Then why were your hips moving timidly alongside his?

~

His hands bit into your sides, Pyramid Head lifting your lower body off the floor to smack against him, driving the rest of his cock inside your spasming pussy with a low groan.

It was a tight fit. 

Once the entirety of his throbbing cock was seathed inside your warm heat, he took the time to glance down at you. You were a sweaty mess of blood and tears, pained gasps emerging from your trembling lips as your body twitched uncontrollably from his claiming of you. Your entrance was stretched taut around his engorged cock, the blood smeared on your pelvis making him wonder if it was yours or from him. 

He was immune to your choked sobs, not feeling the least bit remorseful of his violent taking of you. Rather, he was pleased you survived. Many didn’t make it past this stage, but you proved to be a pleasant surprise. 

The snug walls of your cunt suddenly clenched around his dick, nearly making him cum on the spot. 

He pulled his hips back, hissing when your walls clamped down on him, making the task difficult before driving forward with purpose. Before long, your soaked entrance made his movements easier, his dick sliding much faster inside your straining pussy. Pained cries turned into soft mewls, your hips eventually moving in tandem with his with every brush of your clit. 

He paused midthrust to stare at the bulge in your tummy in fascination. It was a ghastly sight– the way your lower belly distended from his cock penetrating you. He pressed on the bump in an inquisitive manner, jolting in shock when your channel clenched around him erratically, a stream of fluid splashing on his lower belly following your loud shriek. 

The shock was momentary, Pyramid Head rubbing your secretion between his fingers to play with the strings. Bringing them beneath the helm of his helmet, he was overtaken with the smell of your lust. Even though you couldn’t meet his gaze, you could feel him staring at you in a hungry manner. He gave you little time to be embarrassed, hunching over you to place your legs above his elbows, spreading you further and spearing into you with brutal thrusts.

He couldn't stop the rapid succession of thrusts, driving into you faster and faster as his release built up with every plunge inside you.

~

You twisted helplessly, opening your mouth to voice out your pleasure as fire spread throughout your body. His fierce pace had you writhing wildly beneath him, shaking your head at the growing tension in your stomach– signaling another approaching orgasm. You didn’t want him to stop. Your womb clenched with every harsh jab of his monstrous dick against it, the pressure escalating with every second of your ruin.

“O-oh! Please, please, please–!!” You sobbed, not knowing if you wanted him to stop his rough onslaught on your poor body or begging for more as his hips collided violently between the juncture of your thighs. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed along the hall, your passionate cries and his low groans forever imprinted on your mind. Your legs grew tired, falling lax on either side of him, unable to keep up with his vigorous pace. 

He used you like nothing more than a cocksleeve, molding the shape of his cock in your tight pussy, his sac slapping lewdly against your ass.

It became too much. 

Your mind went blank when the knot in your belly finally snapped, letting out a scream of completion when intense heat spread throughout your shaking body. Your vaginal walls gripped him tightly, trying to milk him for all his worth, the sudden tightness forcing a growl to emerge from him. Tears escaped you, the painful pleasure driving you mad in his embrace.

White lights danced behind your eyelids, your orgasm turning you into a puddled mess of ecstasy even as he continued to ravage you.

The last thing you felt before closing your eyes in exhaustion was a scorching heat filling your insides, calloused fingers rubbing the bump in your tummy in wonder.

❣️🖤❣️Thank you for reading~! ❣️🖤❣️

I got another treat for my dear followers! You gotta know I'm posting NSFW Art to go with my fics as well~ (*^ ‿ <*)♡

🎃Happy Halloween, you guys! Stay safe out there!🎃

Full NSFW Art here ---> (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

[secretobsessionstuff]

I love your fics! I would love another one with both Dakota and Blair sick, if you have the time. Maybe one of them gets really sick everywhere and the other sympathy pukes? Cue the sick one feeling super guilty and sympathy puker comforting them and saying it's not their fault.

Ahh fun request! Thank you!

--------

Blair and Dakota did not usually order the same thing at restaurants; Blair preferred lighter meals with unique flavours while Dakota went with hearty, protein heavy meals. But neither of them could resist the pull of garlic shrimp alfredo. They did not want to share their portions, so the only option was to get the same thing. 

Two hours after eating, Dakota’s tongue still remembered the creamy delight with fondness. During the drive home, he entertained himself with thoughts of going back to that same restaurant. Blair certainly wasn’t providing stimulating conversation to keep his mind busy, but that was okay. She sat quietly in the passenger seat, the city lights flashing across her features. 

The meal wasn’t sitting so ‘fondly’ in Blair’s memory, nor in her stomach. Enough time had gone by since eating that her fullness should have been dissipating, but it wasn’t. She closed her eyes tight as every streetlight sliced across her vision. A strange heat burned beneath her eyelids. She felt crampy and sore in every part of her body. This was not the typical fatigue that came after a big meal; it was the fatigue of fever—of an internal war inside her cells. 

Blair cleared her throat and shifted awkwardly in her seat. “I feel kinda weird, Kota.” 

Dakota squeezed her thigh where he rested his hand. “You feel like a normal human to me. Yep, definitely skin and bone under here.” He smirked but spared a glance in her direction. “What’s the matter?” 

“I don’t know…” She trailed off, playing with Dakota’s hand. She intertwined their fingers and traced the veins she could feel through his skin. She lifted his hand to her face. “Do I feel warm to you?” 

Keeping his eyes on the road, Dakota cupped her cheek. “Yeah actually, you do.” He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. “You might be coming down with the flu. It’s going around.” 

Blair mumbled something noncommittal. She didn’t want to think about what kind of flu it might be. And she certainly didn’t want to think about the squirming mass of noodles in her belly or the fishy shrimp swimming in between. 

They fell back into an easy silence, Dakota rubbing his hand over her leg. He thought about his wife’s demeanour throughout dinner. She’d been quieter than usual, but he figured she was just relaxed and enjoying her meal. 

Now her unease was hard to miss. She breathed heavily, occasionally letting out a muffled groan. Unhappy gurgles emanated from her stomach as she fidgeted in her seat. Dakota didn’t like the sick sounds one bit. He wished the drive home wasn’t so long, so he could tuck her into bed faster, but they still had a ways to go. 

Many moans from his wife later, Dakota wasn’t surprised to hear her let out a wet burp into her hand. He switched to rubbing her stomach instead of her leg. He clicked his tongue worriedly against his teeth. “Your dinner’s not sitting so well, huh honey?” 

Blair hiccuped. “Ugh…no.” Another burp bubbled up from her stomach, filling her mouth with saliva. “I’m sorry about this.” 

“Don’t be sorry. Just let me know if I need to pull over.” 

“Okay…” 

Blair didn’t mean to lie, but she was not able to stay true to that one little word. It didn’t happen immediately though which lulled them into a false sense of security. For a while there, Dakota thought they would get home without incident. Blair was mostly quiet as she hugged her aching belly. He almost thought she was asleep, until he heard a harsh gurgle travel up her throat. 

She bolted upright with a hand over her mouth. “Fuck, Kota, I—” A bubbly retch interrupted her sentence.  With a hand clamped over her mouth, her stomach rose into her throat. 

Dakota startled at the sudden turn of events. He was in the middle lane of the highway when a gush of vomit came spewing from between Blair’s fingers. “Oh God…Okay.” 

Blair moaned miserably, unable to stop the next wave from coming. Her stomach squeezed itself like a rag, sending up another torrent of chunky pale sick. In vain, she tried to use her hands to keep the vomit contained. It was useless and succeeded only in coating her hands in half-digested pasta. 

Dakota watched in horror as her legs, the floor, and her hands got covered in sick. “Oh, fuck honey, just let it happen.” His voice was thick and nasally from breathing through his mouth. He checked his blind spot and swore.

Blair sniffled wetly. Snot and tears dripped onto the floor with the sick. A puddle of whiteish vomit filled the ridges of the floor mat. “Kota…Ugh, I’m so sorry.” A wave of vertigo washed over her even while the lights outside blinded her. She gagged. “Please pull over.”   

“I’m trying, baby,” Dakota said shakily.  

No one was letting Dakota into the right lane. He flashed his blinker for ages, waiting for an opening. He heard Blair gag then the liquid sound of more vomit joining the puddle. 

The rancid smell of fermented cream sauce filled the car. It wrinkled Dakota’s nose. Some survival instinct told his own stomach to get rid of whatever was making Blair sick. Stupid monkey brain, Dakota thought as he swallowed a wave of nausea.   

Finally, the car came to a stop on the side of the road. Blair fumbled with the door before falling to her knees on the cold grass. She coughed and gagged on all fours, trying to take in big gulps of air but failing. Her pounding head made the world spin around in her peripheral vision.

Dakota did his best to avoid looking at the horror scene splattered across the car. He too tried to cough up the smell of sour vomit that lined his lungs. He managed to set aside his nausea to crouch by his sick wife. 

“Aw baby,” Dakota cooed as he rubbed her back. She shivered from the cold and the crying. “Just a tad sick, methinks.” 

Blair spat a glob of spit onto the grass. “It happened so fast.” 

“I know.” 

“It’s fucking everywhere, Kota.” She looked down at her hands and her pants. 

“It’ll come clean. It’s not the first time this has happened.” Dakota swallowed hard, seeing the remnants of his own dinner soaking into Blair’s clothes. A shiver ran down his spine as he stood up on shaky legs. 

“I want to go home,” she said weakly, standing up as well. 

Dakota paced on the grass, psyching himself up to take a look at the damage in the car. The open door let him see the aftermath of the entire ordeal. The seat was covered in a slimy layer and the floor mat was dotted with flecks of spaghetti and shrimp. It curdled his stomach as the taste of dinner came back to the forefront of his memory. A heavy lump formed in his throat. 

He wobbled away from the car, feeling the colour drain from his face. “Shit, Bee. I need a minute.” 

Blair heard the tremble in his voice. “Are you okay?” 

“Mmhmm,” Dakota mumbled as he bent over with his hands on his knees. A gurgling retch grated up his throat. A similar colour and consistent of vomit as Blair’s splattered onto the grass at his feet. He nearly tumbled into the ditch from the force of the heave, but Blair’s arm came to the rescue.

“Oh no, babe.” Blair pouted. “Are you sick too?” She felt for a fever and found nothing but cool skin. 

“Not exactly…” Dakota gagged. “I’m fine…just sympathetic to your cause I guess.” 

Dakota gave Blair plenty of time to ponder and obsess over the implications of his words while he emptied more of his stomach. He didn’t think he’d feel better until everything was out. I’m such a good fucking husband, he thought. He told himself that he was merely trying to understand his wife on all levels. 

“No, baby! I’m so sorry!” Blair exclaimed. “I should have told you to pull over sooner. I’m an idiot.” 

Dakota sniffled and wiped his sleeve under his nose. “Stop that. It’s not your fault.” 

“Except it totally is!” 

“Okay you’re right,” he said smugly. “You totally caught a stomach bug on purpose.”  

Blair conceded eventually, mostly because Dakota couldn’t debate the matter while also gagging. She settled on simply rubbing his back like he had done for her. 

Together with swirly tummies, they looked back at the car in disgust. Dakota awkwardly cleared his throat. “I’ll be fine now I think.” 

“I can help.” 

“No, you can’t. You have a fever.” Dakota had to push Blair into the back seat where he forced her to rest like the evil husband he was. 

------

The end. I hate coming up with endings so here’s an abrupt stop :)

[lovebugism]

you’re writing for carmy now omg i’m frothing at the mouth 😭 i love the trope where reader is quiet in bed and needs to be coaxed a bit but… i feel like it would be kind of hot if reader was the one coaxing carmy? 👀 no worries if you’re not feeling this one!

ty for requesting! — you teach the bear how to use his voice in the bedroom (new relationship, inexperienced!carmy, experienced!reader-ish, smut 18+)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Carmy never notices when he’s quiet. His head is always so loud in comparison — it’s easy to forget he isn’t saying anything out loud when his mind’s constantly racing. He doesn’t mean anything by it, though. He’s just chronically observant. And painfully silent with it.

He lays on his back, pressed between unmade sheets and your warm body. The covers bunch at your bare hips as you roll in languid thrusts over his lap. A satiny summer breeze smooths over your burning skin from a cracked-open window. Every time the curtains billow, more of the moonlight peeks in. It drips in silver shades over your naked skin and your pretty face, now twisted in a look of undeniable pleasure — brows scrunched, eyes closed, mouth wide open.

Carmy’s tattooed hands rest impatiently on your hips. His fingers dig into the plush of them as he rocks you back and forth over his cock. You make pretty noises for him every time your clit brushes his coarse thatch of pubic hair, so he angles his hips just right to make sure you keep hitting that spot. 

“Carmy,” you moan in a whimsical sigh that makes his chest swell. “Just like that. ’S so good like that. Please don’t stop—”

His face, made of dark shadows and sharpened edges, is pinched in a look of acute concentration. A distant feeling of deja veux swims in his stomach. It makes him wonder if he’s seen this in a painting before. One of those Renaissance types. The kinds that are harrowingly realistic and always heart-wrenchingly beautiful in a way. 

It makes him want to draw you. Just as you are now. Head tossed back, mouth gently agape, lashes fluttering over glowing cheeks. He wouldn’t be able to do any of it justice, but he tries to memorize the soft lines of your face, anyway. 

Your hips slow to a stop. Reality hits him hard.

“Woah, woah— Hey,” Carmy mumbles in protest, brows pinched in confusion when he comes down from the clouds. Through labored breaths that make his sweaty chest rise and fall, he wonders, “What happened? Why’d you stop?”

His icy blue eyes dart over your face, searching for any sign of harm. In true Carmen Berzatto fashion, he immediately thinks he’s done something wrong — that he got too far in his own head and hurt you in some way without realizing. The anxiety is fleeting, but he feels the pinch of it anyway — right where your palm rests flat on his chest, just over his pounding heart.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, similarly panicked. Your bare chest sparkles with a thin layer of sweat and catches the moonlight with every uneven inhale.

Carmy nods rapidly, chestnut curls brushing the pillow. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m— I’m great. Why?”

You exhale a small sigh of relief, growing sheepish under his unwavering gaze. You feel a bit silly for stopping now. “You just aren’t… You aren’t really, you know… saying anything,” you answer shyly.

“Am I supposed to be saying something?”

You giggle quietly to yourself until you realize he’s being genuine. Your smile ebbs as you stammer, “Well, no, it’s just— Some people usually moan, I guess— When they feel good.”

Carmy nods firmly in reassurance. “I feel good.”

“Okay…” you nod back, slower and more unsure. 

“I promise,” he tells you, tattooed hands squeezing your sides. He shifts nervously on the mattress, similarly victimized by your adoring stare. “I just… I just like watchin’ you, I guess…”

A shy smile quirks the edges of your mouth as you peer down at the boy beneath you. “You’re sweet, bear,” you coo in a honeyed murmur.

“You’re sweeter,” Carmy insists. You think you see the faintest hint of a grin on his lips, but it’s hard to tell in the low light. “Wanna taste?” he teases a second later.

Wordlessly, you bend down for another kiss, far too chaste for his liking. He almost says something about it until you roll your hips again. The words of protest disappear when he inhales sharply through his teeth.

“Does that feel good?” you ask him.

He nods silently, squeezing your sides in a feeble attempt to move you faster on top of him.

“Tell me.”

“Feels good,” Carmy obeys through gritted teeth.

The subtle assurance makes you moan — a pretty, breathy thing that spills accidentally from your opened mouth. All he can think about is getting you to make that sound again. 

“Do you like it when I talk to you?” he wonders aloud, very innocuously curious.

You nod, brows furrowed as you grind over his lap. The bed frame squeaks quietly when you roll your hips forward. When you roll them back again, he can hear the faint sounds of your wet pussy — the quiet schlick-ing of his cock fucking into you. The two noises play one after the other in rhythmic tandem. The sinful sounds of sex.

Carmy racks his head for something to say in the not-so-silent meanwhile. You watch him get lost in his mind and cup his cheeks between gentle palms. “Don’t think so hard about it, bear,” you say with a wavering smile. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay.”

You duck down to kiss him again. The angle shifts. Carmy bends his knees and fucks up into you, mercilessly and without warning. Your mouth hangs open in another weak moan that fans across his chin. 

“That good?” he pants.

“Yes,” you whine. “Carmy— fuck— You’re so deep…”

Babbles spill from your mouth in thinkless slurs. They tumble from your swollen lips with an admirable effortlessness, which Carmy has never thought himself to possess. He tries, anyway, to talk to you with such sinful ease. 

“You’re huggin’ me so tight,” he mutters through a clenched jaw. The very first thought to come to mind as the velvet confines of your cunt pulsate around him, squelching quietly in time with his thrusts. “Can feel you throbbin’ around me, babe— Shit— It’s like a fuckin’ heartbeat.”

Your whine fills the quiet bedroom, adding to the symphony of bed squeaking and skin slapping. 

Carmy shifts his hips upward. The new angle allows his cock to reach a spongy depth inside you and pins your swollen clit against his happy trail, which now glimmers with a layer of your honey.

“Right there?” he pants.

You nod wordlessly until the words catch up to you. The tip of your nose brushes the bridge of his. “Yes,” you whimper. 

His brutal thrusts pick up pace a second later, never wavering in their wicked pursuit. “Let me hit that spot,” Carmy mumbles to himself like a man crazed. “Let me hit that spot, let me hit that spot.”

Pleasure swells within you, overwhelmingly so. It’s a warm and sparkling feeling in the pit of your stomach — a tightening coil, a fraying rope, a dam about to burst. The intensity of your inevitable orgasm frightens you.

“Carmy…” you whimper.

“I know,” he nods sympathetically, right before he plants his feet on the mattress. He strengthens his thrusts, which have slowly started to lose their rhythm. “It’s okay. C’mon. Cum for me— I can feel you fuckin’ drippin’ on me, baby— C’mon.”

Your jaw clenches to fight back the scream clawing at your throat. It comes out in a pitiful whimper instead when you tense over his lap. Your orgasm washes over you in waves that leave you shaking, thighs trembling on either side of his hips.

Carmy goes accidentally silent once more as he watches you, swelling with pride as you reach the height of your pleasure. His light eyes flit over your features in a feeble attempt to memorize them — the furrow between your brows, the wrinkles beside your shut eyes, the spit-slicked sheen to your kissed lips.

You’re painting brought to life. A heavenly thing he can’t believe he gets to touch with unworthy hands.

“That’s it…” Carmy murmurs lowly. The words bubble in his throat and fall from his mouth mindlessly. He doesn’t even have to think about them now. It just feels right to praise you like this. “That’s it. There you go. So pretty… Always so pretty for me.”

As your body racks with aftershocks, you seek refuge in his arms. Your weight rests entirely upon him as your tense limbs slowly relax, but Carmy doesn’t mind. He just wraps his tattooed arms around you and holds your trembling body closer.

“I got you,” he promises through labored breaths, chapped lips brushing your temple with every word. “I got you. ’S okay. You did so good for me, baby. Thank you.”

You don’t have the words to tell him that you should be the one thanking him.

[mocchii-writes]

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

can you do a thanos fic where the reader is like weak and shy, and nam gyu thinks they're manipulating her by keeping her close, but thanos just actually really likes her

(inspired by thanos calling min su cute in that one scen)

If You Hold Me Without Hurting Me, You'll be the First Who Ever Did

Paring: Choi Su-bong (Thanos) x fem!reader

Summary: Nam-gyu is under the impression Thanos is using you, but he doesn't realize Thanos is just head over heels for you.

Words: 1k

Warnings: Reader gets anxiety, normal squid game stuff, not proof-read ♡

A/n: This is such a cute idea, rahh!!

~🍡🍡

Part 2

You were obviously scared. As any normal person should be! It was an unfamiliar setting with unfamiliar people. You're not a fan of unfamiliarity, so you kept to yourself. You were never one for socializing, and certainly not here, but it kind of bugged you that people thought they could walk all over you for it. Not that you would really do anything about it, nor did you want to.

But your luck seems to run dry when you're approached by someone. Someone you can only say has made quite the reputation for himself.

"Senorita, excuse me." He says. You almost don't think he's talking to you, but you turn around to see him looking right at you. You're immediately caught off guard because you've never really gotten a good look at him until now.

Thanos was actually quite attractive by your standards, so you take a moment to look at him before responding. He has pretty eyes, with dilated pupils. His hair is unique, but you can't say the purple doesn't suit him. His facial features just have harmony, y'know? Like he was sculpted by a silent artist and shared with the world.

You snap yourself back to reality after losing your train of thought for a moment. You hope he hadn't noticed your actions, but he had.

"Yeah?" You respond, almost quiet enough that he would have to lean in, but you're glad he doesn't.

"We have 4 people, care to join us?" He says, flashing a smile. You look around, almost hoping someone would swoop in and send you to outer space, but you eventually nod. His friend seems a little upset about it, but he doesn't say anything. "Great, we could use a pretty face." He says, loosely throwing an arm over your shoulder, leading the way. You don't argue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though it was a stressful game, your team somehow made it through pretty easily. You had collected in a corner, talking about the next vote. Well, you weren't really talking, but you were listening. Nam-gyu didn't seem to like you. That was easy to notice. He told you to go around and count the remaining players, but you were quickly defended by Thanos.

"Cut it out, man. She's just sitting here, she didn't do anything wrong." He says it in a pretty funny voice, probably trying to sound cool, but you really appreciate the help anyway. You don't say anything, but you look at him and flash a small smile. He surprisingly smiles back, his features softening a bit before he moves on.

Then, a familiar buzzing is heard, and a few guards come into the room and set up the voting system. Your group had agreed to vote to stay, but you suddenly felt kind of anxious about it. You shouldn't be here, and you know it. Before you can think about it too long, though, everyone slowly shuffles out of their hiding spots, collecting at the back of the room and waiting for their numbers to be called.

Nam-gyu and Thanos both place their predicted votes, and before you know it, you hear your number.

You freeze, but feel your legs moving ahead of your thoughts. You begin to panic. You can't stay here, you know you can't. You'll die in the next game if X doesn't win, though. You'd be giving up your protection, and you know it.

You knew Thanos just saw you as a vote. You can't deny it almost hurt, but you wouldn't expect any less from him. But you also can't deny the way your stomach flipped when he playfully touched your shoulders or how your brain malfunctioned when he held your gaze a little longer than usual. You wanted him to like you, but you pushed it down. It hurt, but your heart could recover pretty quickly with just the sound of his voice.

You glance to your right, only met by the face of Nam-gyu, signaling his false confidence in you with some gesture, but you look back to the buttons, lighting your hands and face with the soft hue of light from each one. You look up to the numbers above your head and feel yourself push a button. You panic, looking down from the numbers to see the red light coating your face. Without a new patch, you quietly walk to the side of X, your mind running faster and faster as you dread the results, but they eventually come.

You lost.

You exhale, but not with relief. You can see Nam-gyu walking to you, but you look at your hands in shame. You feel a hand on your arm as you tense, biting your lip. You knew they would be mad, and you knew you did this to yourself.

"It's okay." You hear. But not from Nam-gyu. His voice is soft and reassuring, providing a strange sense of comfort. Your eyes widen as you look up quickly to see Thanos looking back at you. You're so relieved to see him, but catch yourself. He's just using you, right? You distract your eyes as you mutter an apology. You can hear Nam-gyu scoffing as he walks away, but Thanos keeps his eyes on you. "I'm not angry with you, Flower." He says. You can't tell if he's manipulating you or not, but you honestly don't want to know. You just nod and avoid his eyes. "I don't blame you for wanting to get out of here, but you know you're safe with me. Do you want to leave because you don't think I'm protecting you?"

You shake your head, looking up again. "Sorry.." Is all you can whisper, seeing him sigh and look elsewhere. You look back at your hands, and he doesn't respond for a while, just brushing his fingers against your arm, comforting you the best he can.

"C'mon, it's dinner." He eventually whispers. You look up, not realizing the time that had passed. You nod, refraining from apologizing again, and head to the line.

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