#to survive out here and y’all are taking it lightly

[honeypleasejustkillme]

i hate when people tell me i’m ‘doing better’ like sure i’m not locked in a ward but u have no fucking clue how hard it is for me to pretend everything’s fine and how hard it is for me to just survive

[nymphomatique]

your nerd miguel fics are so good i didnt even know id like dom!reader this much

imagine slutty!reader getting ready for another party and she's barely wearing anything, pretty tits n ass spilling out of her clothes. she's leaning forward over the vanity to do her make up, and miguel cand help but get distracted from (her) homework, and just looks at her plump ass peeking from under her flimsy skirt. he begs her to let him rub himself on her and with hesitant hands he grips her hips and dryhumps her like a dog in heat

well, yes!

cw: slight dom!fem reader, sub!miguel yall know the vibes, me indulging in fashion for a moment, dry humping, miguel cums in his undies, this one’s a lil sweet i fear, awkward ending soz, edited AND proofread y’all 🙏🏾 (can’t guarantee no mistakes however)

wc: 1.6k

❤︎ a/n: i’m a dirty liar and forgot to upload this yesterday but!! she’s here and she was a labour of love! everyone who survived the great barbie drought of winter 2023-2024 gets a pin and goodie bag at the door. nevertheless, enjoy!! 💋

“hey, four eyes, this dress or should i wear a skirt instead?”

brown eyes you’ve come to know so well, more than you’d like to admit, flit up to meet yours momentarily until they look at the two articles of clothing hanging on hangers between your manicured fingers. in one hand, a mesh cut out dress with a deep plunging neckline, and a khaki mini skirt in the other.

“um, skirt. y-you looked pretty in it when you bought it, so um- you should wear it,” miguel mumbles, a pink tint sweeping its way lightly across his face. you’re feeling particularly sweet on him today. it’s been hard to keep your eyes off him as of recent, his chiseled jaw, thick lips, and who could ever forget the resplendent pools of brown that takes form of his eyes. eyes that make your face heat up, setting your body ablaze and feeling feverish under the slightest of glances.

he’s classically handsome, that much you won’t deny, as much as it kills you.

you silently take his suggestion in heed, quietly stripping in front of him to change into the skirt he suggested, and pulling on a black long sleeved crop to to match. you silently lament on the memory of the day you bought the skirt, how you had dragged miguel by his shirt alongside you that day to the mall to sit and watch you buy clothes at any and every store, designer or department, and shuck your bags into his strapping arms. you had wandered into miu miu, miguel trailing not too far behind you with your bags from blumarine, versace, cavalli and more comfortable in his hands. he sat patiently in the waiting chairs as you picked up an array of shirts and skirts and accessories, until you were ready to try them on. miguel sat and watched as you said no and turned your nose up at nearly everything until you tried on a khaki skirt, sitting so low on your hips the straps of your red thing peeking above the waistband.

you turned and twirled in the mirror, admiring the skirt on yourself until you turned to miguel himself, walking up to him as he’s sat to ask him, “you like it?” and like it he does, a hefty hand trailing up from your thigh to your hip, tapping your your hip softly. “you know i do, baby,” and you giggle at his answer, twirling for him before walking back the dressing room to change, not before biting your lip and beckoning miguel to follow at your heels with a pink painted acrylic nail. and follow he does, because he’s such a good boy.

you feel roused at the memory of your dressing room quickie in the same skirt you’re wearing now. and you’re sure miguel feels the same, and you don’t miss the opportunity to provoke him at any moment.

you bend over, slow but curt, fixing up your makeup in your large vanity while your ass sits out in direct display, the short fabric of the skirt lifting as you bend. your black thong is made visible as you bend and wiggle you hips. you steal small glances in the mirror to where miguel is on your bed, sitting in a sea of linear calculus books, and sure enough the methods of linear are long forgotten to focus on your exposed backside. you giggle and turn your head to look at him, and his lips purse when he realizes he’s been caught. before he can sputter anything out, you stand and turn to him and ask him, “see something you like, dontcha?”

a silent swallow and a nod is miguel’s response, his growing erection answer enough for you.

“beg me for what you want.”

and there’s a brief fleeting moment after the words leave your lips. an unspoken fervour in the air, perhaps a mix of what hasn’t been said and all that’s left to say about the two of you. you feel hot, your gaze burning through miguel’s clothes, burning his skin all the way across the room. you want him, you want him, you want him. and he’s looking back at you, a subdued but still present lust in his eyes. you see the submission, his compliance. yes, mistress.

his knees hit the floor, and then his rough palms follow suit and he’s crawling towards you until he’s not, and his sat like a good little boy in front of you painted feet, and he does what you ask, he begs for your touch, your taste, your mercy.

“please let me touch you, i need it, please please please. can i have it? can i touch you, mommy? i don’t even have to be inside you, j-just your touch and i can- i can cum. please? oh god please-“ miguel babbles, his hulking form looking up at you from the floor. you feel like the wind has been knocked out of your chest. he just needs your touch. you card a hand through his thick wavy locks, gripping at the nape and pulling his head up to look at you.

“just need my touch, hmm?” you look at him and he nods. whimpers. so fucking pathetic. “i’ll let you hump me like you want. my subservient little puppy needs it, huh?” you coo mockingly. a string of yes’s and thank you’s leave miguel’s lips and you get up and turn around, bending over to brace yourself on your vanity.

you’re fully presented for miguel, and there’s an empty beat of stillness between you both, you make eye contact with him in the mirror and quip, “gonna keep me waiting?” and he knows better than that. he’s up on his feet, unbuckling his belt and shucking his jeans down and off him, standing in his boxers, swollen and full with his erection. he moves behind you, placing his hands on either sides of your hips.

“no ma’am.”

you can’t help but pulse in anticipation. you look at him in the mirror and find that he’s looking at you already and you feel yourself heat up. please don’t make me wait anymore, you think. like he’s read your mind, miguel’s covered erection is pressed up against the gusset of your panties, perfectly slot between your ass cheeks.

and experimental hump sends you bouncing forward a little, your breasts jiggling a bit, a soft sigh of satisfaction leaving you. finally. another hump, miguel’s strong hands pulling your hips back towards his crotch and you gasp a bit and the pleasure. another thrust of hips, and again, and again until it becomes a steady rhythm of soft sighs and low groans. and it goes on from a thrust to a trust and grind, and oh! the meat of miguel’s dick rubs up against your clit and you can’t help but moan.

your moans are joined by miguel’s whimpers, his hips rocking so intensely it has you burning up inside so much that you think you might cum from the stimulation. “s-so good baby, fuck,” miguel let’s out and you keen at his praise. you’re so good, you’re his baby. you push and grind your hips up in time with his, feeling yourself begin to soak through your panties and maybe onto miguel’s dark boxers. you can’t hold yourself together anymore, feeling yourself come apart so you drop your head onto your vanity’s surface, hoping to salvage some semblance of your pride.

the thick hands on your hips move to find purchase within your skirt, grabbing fistfuls of the short fabric before pulling your hips back with a staggering strength. you feel your knees buckle a bit, and your head shoots back up with an accompanying moan.

miguel pulls you down while pushing himself up into you and it feels so fucking good. your palms feel clammy and you feels as if you’re still sanding by the grace of god. every nudge of your clit feels as if it’s short circuiting your motor functions temporarily and you feel so overwhelmed to the pleasure, you can do nothing but succumb to it, and the man granting you it.

“m’gonna cum miguel. so good, so fucking good. wish you were inside me so i can feel you. wish you could feel me cum around you. f-feels so good please don’t stop! i’m gonna- oh!” you’re mumbling and babbling incessantly, canting hips and soft whimpers that turn into heavy groans only further pushing you past your limit through this titillating pleasure.

“fuck, gonna come with you baby. come with me, please mommy i need it,” miguel moans. his hands release your skirt and dig into your hips once more and you’re sure you’ll find salacious marks there in the morning but you don’t care, not when you’re so close.

a particular hard thrust sends you reeling forward, head almost hitting your mirror and you can’t help but give out within your legs. you feel them shake and almost go numb at the pleasure. you’re left helpless, cumming violently and soaking the fabric separating both you and miguel as miguel continues his assault against your poor pussy. he fucks it- humps it?- raw, overstimulating you to the point of pain when finally he finishes with a final thrust, his nails digging into the meat of your curvature. you feel his cum seep through the material of both of your arguments and you moan as it hits the gusset of your thong.

miguel lets go of your hip and you wobble a bit, using your upper body upon your desk to stabilize you. you’re both panting and heaving, taking in the intense and carnal display of lust between the two of you. you’re quiet before you hear miguel pipe up, breathlessly, pulling you from your daze.

“thank you, mistress.”

smug bastard.

[librababe99]

More Than Skin Deep

Word Count: 766 

cw: Fem! Reader, Self-esteem issues, reference to scars and disfigurement, established relationship, hurt with comfort 

A/N: This is my first time writing for Wade! Honestly I wanted this to be short and sweet–plus this man is sooo deserving of some gentle love❤️ Would y’all be more open to content with Wade? How are we feeling? 

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The night was quiet—surprisingly so for a place like New York City, where the streets never truly slept. But here, in the dim light of Wade’s apartment, the world outside seemed a distant memory. The soft glow of the streetlamp filtered through the window, casting a warm, golden hue over the room, illuminating the gentle rise and fall of Wade’s chest as he lay on the bed.

You sat beside him, your fingers tracing the well-worn path over his skin. Wade Wilson—merc with a mouth, the man who’d seen more carnage than most could even imagine—was currently as still as you’d ever seen him. His eyes were half-closed, a rare vulnerability etched into the lines of his face.

Your fingers followed the familiar route, gliding over the uneven terrain of his chest. Every scar, every imperfection, was a testament to the battles he’d fought and survived. They were part of him, part of the man you loved, and you cherished each one.

“Why do you do that?” Wade’s voice was softer than usual, lacking the usual quip or joke. There was something raw in his tone, something unguarded. He didn’t open his eyes, though. Maybe he was afraid to see what might be reflected in yours.

“Do what?” you asked, your voice equally gentle. Your fingers continued their journey, moving lower, tracing the ridges and valleys of his abdomen. His skin was warm beneath your touch, the tension in his muscles gradually easing under your ministrations.

“This.” He gestured vaguely to where your hands roamed. “Touch me like I’m… I dunno, something precious.”

You smiled, though he couldn’t see it. “Because you are.”

Wade let out a scoff, the sound more automatic than genuine. "Come on, you can't really find this attractive," he muttered, a trace of self-deprecation in his voice.

You smiled softly, leaning down to kiss one of the scars on his chest. "I find you attractive," you whispered against his skin, feeling the subtle tremor of a laugh as it reverberated through him.

You shifted, lying down beside him so you could face him, your hand moving to cup his cheek. His skin was rough here too, but to you, it was perfect. You brushed your thumb across the ridge of his jaw, feeling the way he leaned into your touch, despite himself.

“You’re not just scars, Wade,” you said, your voice firm but tender. “You’re the man who makes me laugh until my sides hurt. You’re the guy who takes on the worst of the worst to protect people, even if you’d never admit that’s why you do it. You’re the person who makes me feel safe, and loved, and important.”

Wade’s eyes finally opened, and you saw the conflict in them—an uncertainty that rarely showed itself. “You really believe all that?”

“I do.” You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips, soft and slow. “I love every part of you. The loud, the quiet, the scars, the smile… all of it. You’re mine, Wade, and I’m not letting go.”

He exhaled a shaky breath, his hand coming up to rest on yours where it still cupped his cheek. “You’re too good for me,” he said, but there was less conviction in his words this time.

“Maybe,” you teased lightly, pulling back just enough to see the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “But you’re stuck with me now.”

Wade’s hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find the lie in your words. But there wasn’t one. What he saw was the truth—the unconditional, unwavering love you had for him.

“Guess I could get used to that,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

You kissed him again, letting your lips linger, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him. Your hand drifted down his chest once more, over the scars and the rough patches, your touch reverent, worshipful. You poured everything into that kiss, into your touch, wanting him to feel the depth of your love, to know it was real.

When you finally pulled back, Wade’s eyes were dark, filled with something that looked an awful lot like hope.

“Thank you,” he whispered, the words barely audible.

You just smiled, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, your heart full. “Always.”

And as the night stretched on, with the world outside growing quieter still, you stayed wrapped in each other’s arms. Wade’s body relaxed completely under your gentle ministrations, his heart finally accepting what his mind struggled to comprehend.

That he was loved—scars and all.

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[etheraltides]

Shelter in the Storm

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summarize: Rafe is acting weird during the storm and you’re about to find out why

Warning(s): mention of gun, protective Rafe.

A/N: feedback always make me happier, love y’all – also tysm for all the love in my fics

The storm outside was relentless, sheets of rain hammering against the windows. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a low growl that felt too close, too ominous. Rafe stood by the window, his silhouette sharp against the faint glow of the firelight. His jaw was tense, his hands flexing open and shut at his sides.

You had packed a bag and driven to Rafe's earlier today when you received a warning in your phone about the upcoming storm, not wanting to risk staying at yours to see the damage - your small house in the Cut had barely survived in the last one and neither you nor Rafe wanted to risk it. Not when his place was as much as yours as his.

You watched him from the couch, bundled up in an oversized sweater, your book abandoned beside you. He hadn’t spoken much since the phone call earlier, but his restlessness told you everything. Something was wrong.

“Rafe.” you said softly, pulling his attention away from the storm.

He turned, his blue eyes darker than usual, stormier. He didn’t respond, just studied you for a moment like he was trying to memorize every detail. It wasn’t unusual for him to brood, but tonight, something felt different. He never got that weird over business that went wrong.

“You’ve been pacing for twenty minutes, quiet ever since I've arrived. What’s going on, baby?” you asked, your voice laced with concern.

Rafe exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

You frowned, sitting up straighter. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out.”

“It’s not shutting you out, alright? ” he snapped, then immediately softened his tone as he noticed you flinch, his chest tightening with guilty. “It’s keeping you safe.”

“From what?”

His eyes flicked away, unable to hold your gaze. His silence was answer enough.

“Rafe…” You stood, crossing the room to stand in front of him. Your hand rested lightly on his clothed chest. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He hesitated, torn between wanting to protect you and needing to tell someone. He didn't like to keep things from you. Finally, he sighed. “You remember Morroco?”

Your brow furrowed. “The trip? Of course.”

He had called you to meet him by the beach, kissing you goodbye as he said he had an important last meeting to close a massive deal and that it'd probably take him a few weeks before he was back.

“It wasn't just a trip.” he said bitterly. “It’s a mess. A deal went sideways, I went after Groff to get my money back and then... Then there was this blue crown treasure hunt with those... pogues. We crossed some people." His jaw clenched. “Now they’re coming for me.”

Your blood ran cold as you tried to process everything. Not even paying a big attention to the fact that Rafe had lied to you. “They?”

“Mercenaries” he admitted, the word dripping with disdain. “Hired guns who don’t care about anything but the paycheck and that fucking crown that slipped away from our fingers."

Fear pricked at the edges of your mind, you could hear your heartbeats in your ears. Mercenaries. “And you think they’ll come here, after you?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice low. “But I’m not taking any chances.”

You stepped closer, your hands gripping his arms. “Rafe, we should call someone - Shoupe, the poli—”

“No,” he interrupted sharply. “The cops won’t do anything. I’ll handle it, okay? I can take care of my own shit."

“You can’t handle this alone, Rafe. We're talking about mercenaries and not a cougar whose money went sideways in a deal!” you argued, your voice rising slightly.

“I’m not letting you get involved,” he said firmly, his hands resting on your shoulders. His touch was warm, grounding.

“I’m already involved,” you countered, your voice softening. “I care about you, Rafe. That means I’m in this with you, whether you like it or not.”

His expression cracked, the tough exterior slipping to reveal the vulnerability underneath. “You don’t get it,” he whispered, his hands sliding down your arms. “You’re the only thing I’ve got that’s good. If something happens to you because of me—” He broke off, shaking his head.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” you said, stepping even closer. Your hands rested on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. “You’re here. You’ll keep me safe.”

He stared at you, his breath hitching slightly. “You have too much faith in me,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“I have the right amount,” you whispered back.

For a moment, the tension hung heavy between you, the storm outside roaring as if reflecting the chaos inside him. Then, before you could say anything else, Rafe’s hands moved to cup your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks.

“You’re so damn stubborn,” he muttered, a small, almost pained smile tugging at his lips.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words were swallowed as his lips met yours. The kiss was desperate, almost frantic, like he needed to remind himself you were here, with him, safe. His hands slid into your hair, holding you to him as if letting go wasn’t an option.

Your hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. The warmth of his body, the way he kissed you — it all felt like a promise, and a plea rolled into one.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing heavy. “I’m not letting them get near you,” he vowed, his voice raw.

“They won’t,” you assured him, nodding as your hands smoothed over his chest.

He kissed you again, slower this time, his hands skimming down your sides. When he pulled you against him, his arms wrapping around your waist, you felt the full weight of his fear and his determination.

“I should send you away,” he muttered against your hair, his lips brushing your temple. “Somewhere safe. Away from Outer Banks."

You leaned back, meeting his gaze. “No. I’m staying right here. With you.”

Rafe stared at you, his jaw tightening. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” you said with a small smile, not wanting him to know how terrified you actually were. “But so are you. We’re a good match, remember?"

Despite himself, he chuckled, his grip on you tightening. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” you teased.

He didn’t answer; he just pressed another kiss on your forehead before pulling you into his chest. His hand smoothed over your back, lingering there as if the simple act could protect you from the world.

After the conversation, the weight of the threat hanging over him, Rafe couldn’t let you out of his sight. He needed to feel you close, needed to know you were safe in a way that words couldn’t assure him - and it didn't help that you decided to organize everything that was out of place, moving between the rooms without saying anything. He knew you were stressed. You always clean whenever anxiety hits you.

“C’mon,” he murmured, his voice low as his arms slid around your waist.

You blinked up at him, confused. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you to bed,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your cheeks flushed. “I can walk, Rafe.”

“Not tonight,” he said, shaking his head. “Let me do this.”

Before you could protest, Rafe bent down and swept you into his arms as if you weighed nothing. You let out a soft yelp of surprise, your arms instinctively looping around his neck.

“Rafe—”

“Shh,” he murmured, glancing down at you with a small, almost teasing smirk. “Just let me take care of you for once, okay?”

You pressed your lips together, your cheeks warming at the way he held you so effortlessly, his grip steady and secure. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, a calming rhythm that contrasted with the chaos of the storm outside.

The walk to the bedroom was silent, save for the sound of the rain pounding against the roof. Rafe nudged the door open with his foot, carrying you inside. The room was dark except for the faint glow of a lamp on the nightstand, casting warm light over the space.

He set you down gently on the bed, his hands lingering on your hips for a moment before he stepped back. You watched as he moved around the room, double-checking the locks on the windows and door. His movements were methodical, his expression tense.

“Rafe,” you said softly, sitting up. “You don’t have to do all this.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Yes, I do.”

You wanted to argue, but something in his tone stopped you. He was carrying more than just worry — it was guilt, fear, and the overwhelming need to protect you. It was his way of tricking himself into believing he had some control over the whole situation.

Once he was satisfied, Rafe returned to the bed. You noticed the subtle way he opened the drawer of his bedside table, checking the loaded gun inside.

Your stomach tightened. “Do you really think it’ll come to that?”

His gaze flicked to you, softening slightly. “It’s just a precaution,” he said, his voice steady.

You nodded, though the thought of him having to use it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Come here,” he said, holding out a hand.

You crawled toward him, settling into his arms as he pulled you close. His body was warm, solid, and the way his arms wrapped around you made you feel like nothing in the world could touch you.

“Get some sleep,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“What about you?” you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

“I’ll sleep,” he promised. “Just need to make sure you’re out first.”

You frowned but didn’t push further. His hand smoothed over your back in slow, soothing strokes, lulling you into a sense of security.

Eventually, your breathing evened out, and Rafe let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He stayed awake, his eyes scanning the room, his ears attuned to every sound beyond the rain. Every creak of the house set his muscles on edge, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. But then he’d look down at you—your peaceful face, your fingers loosely curled against his chest — and the storm inside him would quiet, even if just for a moment.

Carefully, so as not to wake you, Rafe reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered, tracing the curve of your cheek.

“You don’t even know how much you mean to me,” he whispered, his voice so soft it was nearly drowned out by the rain.

His hand moved to your shoulder, then down your arm, his touch light, almost reverent. He wanted to memorize every detail—the way your skin felt against his, the rise and fall of your breathing, the warmth you radiated.

For a long time, he just watched you, his thumb idly brushing against your arm.

No one would hurt you. Not the mercenaries, not anyone. He’d burn the world down before he let anyone take you from him.

When his exhaustion finally began to creep in, Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear. Even if it's the last thing I do.”

With one hand resting on the gun in the drawer and the other wrapped protectively around you, Rafe finally allowed his eyes to close, the storm outside fading into the background.

As long as you were in his arms, nothing else mattered.

[pearl-blue-musings]

Unforgettable Ch.9

*pokes head out from hiding* heyyyy, hey. How y’all doin??? I know it’s been a HOT HOT minute since I updated this but yeaaahhhhhhhhhh

Pairing: Dabi/Touya Todoroki x fem!reader x Hawks/Keigo Takami

A/N: universe altered, 18+, somewhat follows canon, slightly unrequited feelings, miscommunication, words are hard

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.2K

The cold months began to transition to spring and life seemed to have slowed to its usual pace. The pace of life before Dabi had entered and turned it on its head. Before your feelings for either men had interfered and made a mess of things. Hawks returned to being a double agent and fooling the league while you returned to your job at the hero commission and were still being restrained and watched. It was almost impossible for you to go anywhere without it being approved by the higher ups, something you and Keigo fought against hard but lost out. The secret of your previous relationship remained a secret but the feelings lingered on. How the world expected you to forget something so unforgettable was beyond your scope of reasoning.

Occasionally, small gatherings of blue flowers would appear on your balcony. Somewhere in the back of your mind there’s a metaphor here, in how you would let them all be crumpled by the snow. The petals get the nourishment they need despite being crushed by the weight of nostalgic appearing snow. You can’t bear to look at it, shutting your blinds closed and never wanting to look at the balcony again. It’s not like Hawks was stopping by anymore, he was on missions being undercover; you were also given orders to cease all contact with him whilst he’s with the League.

Those orders weren’t followed completely when the HSPC president was killed.

The attack on the headquarters was a precursor to what was to come from the Paranormal Liberation Front, indicating that they wouldn't be knocked down or taken too lightly. You had just barely escaped death as the enemy analyzed you as not a threat to them. So they incapacitated you for a time, knocking you unconscious as they started to take down hero society from within. All Hawks could do was watch from their headquarters.

The facade he puts on for them as they cheer over the news doesn’t crack as the camera pans over to your crumpled body. He stealthily releases a feather based on the coordinates seen to check in on you. His heart rate skyrockets as members of the liberation army ask him about the president and what life was like. Keigo briefly goes into the program and how he was raised, but leaves you out of it. When he finally has a moment alone, he cracks slightly as his heart burns, melting away the icy exterior he needs to survive the mission.

Dabi kept an eye on Hawks for this entire thing. He didn’t want to admit it, but when the camera went over to where you were lying on the ground he wanted to burn the screen. He specifically told them to leave you out of it. He’s going to give whoever laid a finger on you a searing scar. Dabi may want to kill his brother, but he would never let any harm come to you. You, you have a special relationship with him. And he’s sure that if anything were to ruin what he has, or had, with you it might break more of his resolve. Break him more than he already is.

So of course when Hawks brought up that the two of you have been forced to interact less, he was crazy ecstatic and torn. Hearing that convinced him even more that Keigo is clearly undercover. He doesn’t want to break Twice’s heart, so maybe some truths should be left unsaid.

Too many days Touya stares at your phone number until the first major battle of the war begins. Even as he practices what he’s going to say upon meeting his father and youngest brother, he wants to run his words and methodology by you. You wouldn’t think he’s crazy, right? You’ve always cared for him, as Touya and as Dabi. He wants, no needs you to understand where he’s coming from. He has to see you one last time. Dabi doesn’t care that you haven’t taken any of his flowers; at least his mother did. But you’re different. You’re you.

And that’s why he’s scaling the wall of your apartment building with the help of Twice to see you one last time as Dabi.

****

You’re startled by the sound of flesh and bone rapping against your balcony door. It’s been a couple of months since you’ve cut off communication with Dabi and you fear that he may be outside. You’ve started to lock your balcony door, not even wanting to be safe from Hawks. After you called the villains name during your lovemaking session his presence has been scarce. The tears you’ve shed for these two opposing men could fill a river and that hurts your heart more than you’d like to admit. Your heart beats like a kick drum trying to break the sound barrier at the mere possibility it could be either man. Securing the blanket around your frame, you hesitantly open the latch of the sliding door with eyes shut tight.

“Heh, am I really that awful to look at?”

You weren’t sure what you expected, but the rumbling of Dabi’s voice rings clear in your ears. On instinct, you bring him into a hug and his arms immediately wrap around your body. As angry as you are at him, something about him feels too familiar, too much like home. You almost miss the way he tightens his grip on you as you walk inside together. The motion is practiced as if the two of you hadn’t missed a beat these last few months. He still smells a little smoky and sultry as you breathe him in. He’s the first to break the silence, “I’ve missed you.”

You look up at him from the hug, tears coming to your eyes freely. Dabi’s eyes soften slightly at your sorrowful expression. “What’s that look for, pipsqueak?” You hadn’t realized you were crying until he wiped away a tear.

The words die in your throat as you finally gaze up into his striking blue eyes. There’s something hidden behind them, some sort of finality and strength you hadn’t seen before. “You came here to tell me something. What is it?”

Touya had always hated how perceptive you were to his thoughts and emotions. And this time was no different. He sighs deeply before bringing you to the couch in practiced steps, your knees touching his as you two sink into the cushions. Dabi lets go of your hands and interlocks his fingers under his chin. “Tomorrow,” his voice rumbles with a start, “the League, well the paranormal liberation front is going to attack.”

You sigh and cross your legs and arms together. “I may be on a set schedule because of my quirk but even I know that,” you retaliate. Dabi chuckles at your retort before he pushes himself up on his knees. Your eyes follow his movement as he stands in front of your television. “W-what is it, Dabi?”

He bends down and moves the coffee table out of the way, being eye level with you. “Look me in the eye sweetheart.” You shut your lids tightly, taking a breath before you stare in his eyes fully. Your heart skips a beat and a gasp escapes your lips. It can’t be, there’s no way. You had wanted to deny it the whole time but right now… “You know who I am, don’t you?” His lips are now dangerously close to yours and you can feel his warm and shaky breath fan your own. Your lip trembles and your tongue jots out to moisten them.

You quickly shake your head. “He’s dead. T-they told me you died…Keigo and I, we thought that…”

He presses his forehead against yours and gently cups your face. “Say my name.”

Hesitation overcomes you as the truth is blatantly in front of you. “T-Touya,” your voice breaks as his name finally leaves your lips after so many years. Touya softly digs his fingers into your cheek as he releases the tension in his back. How long has it been since he’s heard you say his name? How many nights has he wanted to hear his true name fall effortlessly from your lips, coating his senses in lush ecstasy. “I, I had a feeling it was you. You have the same eyes. But, but I thought I was remembering wrong a-and with the HSPC rewriting my memories I thought-” He silences your rambling with a kiss and you find yourself melting into it. How long has it been since you’ve felt his lips? How long has it been since you’ve felt his adoring and alluring touch? You want to melt into him, but you cut the kiss short.

You breathe heavily and whisper, “Keigo…”

“Whispering another man’s name?”

You shake your head. “No, he…he thought it was you, too. I had a feeling because you felt so familiar.” A finger traces along his cheek as the metal of the staples practically sting your fingertips. Tears start to fall freely down your cheeks. “You’re alive,” you cry, “for years we thought you were dead. Wh-what happened?”

Touya gently wipes at your cheek and takes your hands in his. “That’s a story for another day. But I need to tell you about tomorrow. I’m exposing the hero life for how shitty it is. My father, the number one hero will fall socially and hopefully in battle. I need to ask you a very important question.

“Will you join me in taking down my father? What good has hero society done for you? Lock you up, prevent you from using your quirk to the fullest, making Keigo a soldier? We’re going to tear it down, starting with my father. Join me, and I promise I won’t hurt Hawks too much.”

“I-”

At that moment your phone rings. The caller ID flashes that it’s the man in question. You swallow a lump; of all the times to finally have some social interaction. You sigh deeply and pick up the phone, motioning to Dabi to stay silent.

“Hey,” you start hesitantly.

“Baby bird listen. I’m sorry I’ve been going radio silent on you these last couple of months.” You can hear him huff on the other line in a hushed tone. He still must be undercover, you think. Your gaze drags over toward Touya who smiles cynically and comes to hug you from behind. The brush of warm metal on your neck sends a shiver down your spine. Is he really trying to do this right now? With Keigo on the phone??

“I-I know,” you gasp out, “I’ve been avoiding you, too. Look Kei, I’m sorry for what I said.”

Touya pinches your side in curiosity and you try to wave him off. You try to weasel your way out of his grasp to finish your conversation but he’s got you in a vice grip. “I know you’ve stopped by to check in on me.”

Hawks chuckles and his tenor voice sends the butterflies in your stomach fluttering. “Even when I’m undercover, you can still figure me out.” The sound of his wings flapping in the distance stuns you. You want to ask him where he is but with your current company trying to make you break, you keep it to yourself. “Dove, this is serious. I need you to listen to me.” Your voice goes dry at his sudden change in tone and you stand up at the seriousness.

“What’s going on?”

“Tomorrow, something huge is going down.” You immediately turn to Touya with wide eyes. Hawks continues, “it’s calling for all hands on deck. We’re even using the students of U.A. to help us out because we’re so short staffed.” The wind passing in the back lets you know he’s on a rooftop to contemplate things over that’s out of public view. You wait with bated breath for him to finish. “This might be one of the hardest battles we’ve been part of. Heroes, villains, all of that can change so suddenly.” You feel your heartbeat rising in volume and tempo the more he talks to you. Your free hand fiddles the hem of your shirt and Touya is quick to take it in his, his warmth calming you down.

Your voice comes out barely above a whisper. “What are you saying?”

You hear a sigh and a groan before you hear his voice again. “We need you. I can show you the layout of the different bases and you can guide the heroes to apprehend the bad guys.” Dabi tightens his hold on your hand and you hiss in pain. “You okay?” You slap Dabi’s hand away and he smacks your ass in retaliation.

“Mhm I’m fine! Just stubbed my toe is all.”

“My clumsy girl,” Keigo chuckles, “what am I to do with you?” Behind you Dabi growls at the possessive remark, curling in on himself. “But, what do you say pretty bird? Help us stop the villains and All For One in their tracks?”

The question hangs in the air and you’re sure Touya heard it. He stands up to approach you again, taking your hand in his. “So,” he grumbles out…

“What’s it gonna be?”

Taglist: @luluwiie @kiribaku-queen @shinsouskitten @kacchaneatsass @omegaverse-musings @sssjuico10 @zefrenchturtle @isimp4hawkz @waffleareniceandfluffy @kunaigirlx44

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

y’all remember the ask about how the Shellie’s would react to their s/o dead but the child survived. Mhm. I was wondering if we could do the few others (ink, error, killer, dune, and disbelief.) because angst is very silly!! (Positive term) if you’re not comfortable doing this. Then it’s fine!! Remember to drink water and take care of yourself.

Ink - .... He's kinda frozen, unsure what to do. It's a prank... right? It has to be a prank, because that's stupid, no one dies murdered in their own house, it's only happening on TV. He kneels next to S/O and tries to wake them up, more and more distressed as long minutes pass. He barely acknowledged the child is alright, he doesn't care about the child, he just wants his S/O to wake up. Eventually, he runs out of paint and stops feeling anything. He's just sitting there, feeling empty, and unable to cry. He stays there a few minutes and then leave this universe, leaving the child crying on the floor behind. He doesn't want to get involved.

Error - What was he thinking? Getting attached to some stupid human. He knows better. Now it all went to waste, what was even the point? He's mad at S/O for dying so stupidly, he's mad at himself for not even being there when that happened. He is so stupid. He has the powers of a god and he couldn't even save the only person he cared about. Why? What is wrong with him? He's about to leave when he suddenly notices the child moving. He hesitates. The kid would survive better without him. But... He can't. He can't let them here. He picks them up and goes to mourn in the antivoid. Damn, he has no idea how to even change a diaper...

Disbelief Papyrus - He says nothing, too in shock. He doesn't have the strength to cry. He can't believe it's happening again. Is he cursed or something? Why everyone has the right to move on but him? Did he do something wrong? What's even the point of trying? He's ready to just dust on the floor with his S/O when he froze seeing a tiny movement in their arms. The tears start to fall uncontrollably as he holds his baby, thanking fate again and again. The kid will grow up knowing his S/O was a hero and that all his friends' ghosts made sure they were alright when he found them.

Dustale Sans - Uh. Well, that's upsetting. He lightly kicks S/O with his foot and jumps in the air when his child moves and starts crying. God, he forgot that thing could be that loud. Uh. Now what? Is he in trouble again? He swears he didn't kill them this time! But, uh... He's unsure what to do? You go to see the police when this happens? He doesn't like the police :( He teleports his S/O corpse in front of the police station with a post it saying "someone murdered them but that's not me. pls find who. don't call me." That will work, he's confident. Now what the hell is he supposed to do with the child? He gives them a dead pigeon for diner but they didn't eat it, and he's so confused now. He thought he was supposed to feed the child??? Please someone save the child.

Killer Sans - He's angry, but he tries not to show it too much, comforting his child. That's obviously someone who knows who he is and what he did seeing the goop everywhere. He knew just trying to build a new life wouldn't work to escape Nightmare. He's panicking, but he tries to keep his calm. Nightmare can't follow him everywhere. He leaves S/O and jumps into another universe with his child. He doesn't want to fight, simply protect his family. And he has nothing to loose anymore.

[messrmoonyy]

hey y’all, anon bestie back at it again😍

but rlly, like imagine.. tess getting a lil submissive but still being the one in control and getting on her knees in front of you to do sum unholy things LORD HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL

Submission

Tess Servopoulos x fem!reader

A/N- hi bestie!!! I thank you for your service , you’re my favourite 🫡 I was just gonna write a little Drabble for this but as always. I got carried away! It’s actually surprisingly soft 🤧 I think sub Tess is RARE like I think that side of her only makes an appearance once in a blue moon when she’s just unbelievably drained and needs to not be the one in control and scary all the fine. And needs a lil comforting herself. And here is one of those times.

Warnings: 18+ || Tess. She’s a warning on her own lmao. Smut: oral ( reader and Tess receiving ), slight sub/Dom roles.

Word count: 4.2k of pure self indulgent filth.

Masterlist - Tess one shot requests are open!

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

Tess was silent as you wound your way through the back alleys of the QZ, sticking close to the shadows and the walls. You knew your way around all the secret pass throughs like the back of your hand by now, which in that case was good. You were in a hurry.

You were supposed to have received a drop off from Bill and Frank on Monday. It was now Friday. Both previous attempts to collect your goods had gone south, FEDRA almost catching you both times.

And now you’d failed attempt number 3.

There had been a spike in people trying to escape the walls, take their luck surviving outside of zone in some hopes of a better future. So FEDRA had increased their presence by the walls. If it hadn’t had been for the other two making a break for it and distracting the officers from where you and Tess were positioned, you’d be in the back of an armoured truck having them see what size noose you wore.

Tess was pissed. Obviously. And stressed beyond belief. You both had people waiting on pills. On bullets. Food. On stupid shit like socks and books. And it was all sat outside the wall somewhere waiting to be collected. You just couldn’t reach it.

Tess ducked into one of the buildings that hid a tunnel heading right back near your apartment, still not speaking a word. Not even when she braced herself to boost you up onto the ledge leading out. No muttered annoyance at whoever had gone through there last not leaving the ladder in plain sight.

Not even a thank you when you held out your hand and pulled her up too. Just a nod of her head and a light hand to your back, ridding you of your backpack and tucking it away for next time.

It wasn’t until back in the relative safety of your shared apartment did she finally break her silence.

You watched her intently as she pulled off her jacket, tossing it onto the back of the couch before slumping down, elbows on her knees.

“ fuckin FEDRA assholes “ it didn’t really hold the level of anger you’d expected. Her voice wasn’t bitter, no venom laced her words. In fact she just sounded… tired. Like the entire weight of the world was currently sat upon her shoulders.

“ we can try again tomorrow “ she shook her head and sighed again sitting back, looking up at the ceiling.

“ if our shits even still there. There was food in that package too. Fuckin fox or dog or some shit has probably had a field day with it “ she pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed now. you wandered over to her and carefully placed your self in her lap, cupping her face gently in your hands.

“ then we get the other stuff. People will soon realise that FEDRA have upped security by the wall, they’ll stop tryna run for a while, officers will be deployed else where. Then we get our shit “ her eyes danced across your face for a moment, sadness swimming across her pupils “ what’s going on with you today? “ you brushed her hair away from her face, running your fingers lightly through the greys peppering her temple before tucking it behind her ears

“ I don’t know “ she’d never really been one to talk about her feelings. She was honestly pretty fucking shit at expressing them in any way that truly made sense most of the time. In fact in the 10 plus years you had been together you didn’t think you could even actually recall a time she’d said ‘I love you’.

Of course she told you in other ways. In the ‘ be fucking careful ‘ , the ‘ touch her and I blow your fucking brains out’. In the tender kisses that were reserved solely for you, in those moments where you hid away from the world and pretended you were safe. The hand to your shoulder. The strong arms around you as you slept. She was better at showing than speaking.

“ you can talk to me “

“ yeah. I know “ she held your gaze for a moment, some wordless discussion happening between you. It was like she didn’t quite know what to say. She didn’t know how to ask for help, didn’t know how to truly make herself vulnerable to you. Even after so much time. And it was funny actually. Because she could do it to you so easily. Could have you tearing your heart out and serving it up to her on a silver platter with very little effort. But she was so unbelievably opposite.

So reserved and closed off. So strong and demanding and powerful.

She looked on the verge of speaking. Or kissing you. Or both. Eyes darting between your own and your lips. But she did neither. Simply sighed again, her face taking on that look that said she very much did not want to talk about it now. And she patted your leg lightly, urging you to stand.

You watched her walk over to the kitchenette, suddenly unbelievably interested in cleaning dishes. Keeping busy. Keeping her hands occupied.

You knew Tess well enough to know that what would usually have calmed and eased most, wouldn’t work with her. You couldn’t use all the techniques she used on you. The way she would pet your hair and let you cry into her chest after a particularly traumatic nightmare, the way her hands that were covered in so much blood could be so gentle and tender with you, her usual demanding bark that she used with people on the black market that crossed her, that turned soft for you.

It wouldn’t work on her. She’d never let you do it either. You’d tried before and she’d shut herself off from you.

She wasn’t one for pity and sympathy. So no, you couldn’t use all of her tricks for her. On her. But you could use one.

The most common, the one that was her go to. The one that had you floating and mind crumbling to mush inside your skull, had your blood morphing into a river of molasses in your veins. Slowing you down. Forcing you to relax.

She’d never let you go to that extreme on her, that was a fact. But with how truly drained she looked in that moment? You were convinced you could push her a little. Force her to relax and try and give her the treatment that so often saved you from losing your own damned mind.

A break.

A solitary moment where she didn’t have to be strong. Or powerful or whatever the fuck else she forced herself to be everyday.

“ Tess “ she looked over at you as you stood by the counter, the usual fiery look in her eye not burning as brightly as it usually did. She was running on empty “ c’mere “ she hesitated for a moment before drying her hands on a towel and walking over. Your heart was racing a little, not used to the possible switch in dynamic you were about to propose. You cupped her cheek gently, thumb brushing along her cheekbone for a moment. To your mild surprise, She was the one to lean in, capturing your lips with hers in a kiss far gentler than normal.

She usually had a force behind her, a solid and sure hold on your face. Or your waist. Where ever she’d chosen to anchor herself to you. Usually gave the direction, the press of her thumb to make you tilt your head a certain way or the one to brush her tongue over yours and silently command you to submit. But in that moment she didn’t. It was still there… sort of. The hand that had planted itself on your waist lightly fiddling with the hem of your shirt, cold fingers slipping under so desperate for the skin to skin contact she always craved. Fingers pressing into your flesh, but lighter.

And it gave you the motivation you needed. The motivation to attempt to peel her apart until she was as open as she could be to you.

“ I want you on your knees “ you said against her lips, your voice low. Not entirely commanding in the way that she usually was, but far more than you’d ever let yourself be before. For a brief moment you regretted it, wishing you’d just left her be. But, to your complete surprise, she did it.

Her hands trailed down your body as she went, along your arms and over the dip of your waist, pausing briefly on your hips before falling loosely into her lap as she sat on her heels.

You hoped you didn’t look as lost as you felt. Even when traversing the sticky handlings of drop offs you weren’t as stern as Tess could be. The people that feared you only really doing so because they knew you had Tess right at your side, and Joel on the other. But you could still hold your ground. And she had done this for you so many times before, pushed you to submit and let your mind leave you for a while. It was about time you repaid her. So you tried.

“ take them off, my jeans “ you were still on edge waiting for her to laugh at you for even attempting to switch roles. Maybe yank you down onto the kitchen floor with her and fuck you into the floor tiles until you couldn’t walk anymore. Show you how it was really done But she didn’t. In fact she almost looked relieved. Eyes almost glassy with some kind of relaxed fogginess, the weight of her week slowly lifting from her shoulders. A realisation that in that tiny little apartment she wasn’t expected to be cruel, to be loud and in charge. That she could be vulnerable. No one expected anything of her there, least of all you.

She still had her usual Tess tendencies. Dragging everything out. Slow as she unbuttoned the tight denim that was hugging your body. Dragging them down your legs in a way akin to some kind of odd assisted strip tease.

“ can I- “ she cut herself off with a huff. Seemingly some mixture of annoyed and embarrassed at being put in the position you always held. The one asking permission. You reached out for her again, hands cupping her face and making her look up. Her eyes had closed, some debate clearly happening behind her eyelids.

“ Tess “ she kept her eyes closed, her face still not as relaxed as you wanted it “ Tess, love. Open your eyes “ you coaxed, rubbing soft circles into her cheeks with your thumbs until they opened “ relax. I’m trying to help you. To you know, Relieve some stress “

“ yeah. I know “ she sighed, her hands gently running up and down your legs. Hands that were rough from fighting her way through the hell of the last 20

Years, that sent your skin raising in goosebumps. Like a trail of braille that only she could decipher, the reactions and workings of your body made solely for her to understand “ I’m not very good at asking permission “

“ then don’t. Just act “ and she did, leaning forward, brushing her nose against your cloth covered mound. Slow and wet open mouthed kisses through the fabric of your underwear and you feared she was simply slipping back into her usual ways. Teasing mercilessly and dragging things out for hours. But that wasn’t how you wanted to play. This was only the start “ take them off “ her fingers hooked into the waist band and dragged them down your legs without further prompting.

She lifted your left leg, pulling your foot from the loop. And then the right. But instead of putting the right carefully back down again, she hooked it over her shoulder. She kept her eyes on you as she pressed kisses along your inner thigh and you snaked a hand down into her hair.

“ stop teasing “ it came out a little breathier than you’d wanted, not as stern as you’d been hoping for. You really weren’t cut out for the dominant role. But you sure as hell were going to keep trying.

“ then tell me what you want “ even then with her voice more gentle that it usually was, she still had that control. She would never lose it you were certain. But either way, it was distracting her from her stress and that was all that mattered.

“ you know what I fucking want “ you said and slipped your hand further into her hair, curling your fingers into it and tugging her back a little to look at you more “ so fucking do it “

“ yes ma’am “ she said with a small laugh, even mocking a salute with her fingers before burying her face in you. Your fingers tugged at her locks wrapped around your fingers, in a way that was no doubt painful, as you gasped. But she didn’t react, too preoccupied with you, her lips sucking harshly at your clit.

“ and none- none of your teasing shit “ you could feel her smile against you and you didn’t even care that you were well and truly shit at telling her what to do, because at least she’d cracked a fucking smile. If she was making fun of you not, you didn’t care.

“ nice and quick. I can do that “ the truth to the matter was, you did want it over fast. Knowing that getting her to let you touch her was a rare occurrence. And she definitely wouldn’t let you if you hadn’t already came first at least once.

And you needed to touch her. Wanted to. Desperately. Needed to show her the same attention she showed you, to have her floating and forgetting why she was even stressed out in the first place.

Not that Tess needed to know that just yet.

You let her work her magic, head thrown back in pleasure as she alternated between wrapping her lips around your clit and thrusting her tongue into you. It was barely a couple minutes before she already had you on the edge, eyes locked firmly on your face as you clenched around her tongue. Some attempt to keep her there and not let her leave

“ fuck. Fuck just like that “ her fingers pressed harder into the flesh of your thigh, so hard you knew you’d have bruises blossoming across your skin in the morning. A colourful reminder of exactly who you belonged to “ just like that oh shit “ you looked down at her, truly admiring the image of her there on her knees. Committing it to memory, certain you wouldn’t see it again anytime soon. Noting the almost submissive look that was clouding her eyes as she kept up her pace, relentless in her efforts to have you coming on her tongue.

It was something you’d never known you needed, to see her like that. To see the woman that had people moving out of her way as she walked past, too scared of upsetting her or getting in her way, right there on her knees. For you. Only for you. She was ravishing.

“ fuck- I’m gonna- Tess “ you whined, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in some attempt to stave off the noises slipping from your throat. You kept her intense eye contact as your orgasm slammed into you, blooming from the pit of your belly and making your entire body shake. You gasped out her name as she worked you through it, only stopping when you tugged at her hair to detach her from you “ too much “ you mumbled, leaning your head back and attempting to catch your breath.

She peppered light kisses across your thigh before gently easing your leg back onto the floor. You simply wanted to melt into a puddle and bathe in the bliss she’d gifted you for the rest of the day. But you had more important things to do rather than sit and soak in your post orgasm glow. You looked down at her again, quite certain you could actually come again just from the sight of her.

She truly was a sight to behold on her knees. Paired with the mess you’d made of her hair and the evidence of what she’d just done to you coating her lips and chin in a glossy sheen, it was almost too much to bare. You needed her desperately. Needed to ravish her until she forgot her own name, some deep primal instinct to be the one to make her feel as good as she did you.

“ c’mere. Up here. Come here “ you said almost in a rush. She pressed a kiss to your thigh again before rising to her feet, kissing you without you having to ask. You could taste yourself on her lips, something that only made that fire burn stronger in your chest, setting your entire body ablaze with a desperate want to simply give. To please “ come with me “ you said in between hurried kisses, tugging at her hands in the direction of your bed.

“ what are you- “

“ shh. Just do as I say “ you kept kissing her as you went, not able to bring yourself to stop even for a second.

Sometimes when you sold your pills they would ask you if you sampled your own goods. Which you did. Occasionally. But never enough to let it become an addiction like them. Cause Why on earth would you need pills to feed an addiction when you had her? What high could possibly even come close to the one that was kissing her? Tasting her, touching her, completely and utterly consuming her. Nothing could beat it. No drug no drop of alcohol.

“ lie down “ you gave her shoulders a push to urge her on, crawling on top of her as you did. Her hands were all over you, roaming under your shirt and trailing along your spine. You detached your lips from hers and began pressing a trail of kisses across her jaw, along her cheekbones, on every scar and line her face held. You could feel her melting beneath you, her tense muscles gradually turning to Jelly. It was working.

“ Tess “ you said softly, close to her ear, finger tracing along the waistband of her jeans “ will you let me help you relax? please let me “ you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips again “ I want to help you “ she pushed your hair back behind your ear, trailing her fingers across your jaw to rest on your chin. Her thumb ran over your bottom lip, pulling it down and watching it snap back into place “ Tess “ her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, letting out a slightly shaky breath as you said her name.

“ say it again “ it was so quiet you weren’t entirely sure you’d heard her correctly.

“ Tess “ her body visibly relaxed beneath you, her shoulders go slack as she melted down further into the mattress.

“ I love the way you say it “

“ Tess “ you whispered it softly, as if it were the most beautiful word to ever leave your mouth, brushing your lips over hers. Her eyes were still closed, lips parted as her chest rose and fell in a deep and steady pace. You kept repeating it, over and over like a mantra as you stripped her of her shirt, kissing every inch of new skin you revealed. Like some holy prayer that deserved nothing but the upmost care in reciting “ do you want me to help you? “ you caught her nod out of the corner of your eye but it wasn’t enough “ say it for me”

“ yes “ it was a whisper but you knew she didn’t have the strength to be more confident with it. So you didn’t push. Simply continued your path down her body, helping her out of her jeans and planting yourself between her legs.

You could actually count the number of times you’d gone down on her in the last 10 years on your fingers. She liked to give and was quite often reluctant when it came to receiving. So when she did let you, you weren’t going to squander it. She was watching you closely now, eyes heavy and half lidded as you moved forward. Letting her completely overwhelm your senses, letting her consume you.

Your fingers carefully parted her and you heard her breathe hitch, stuttering as your tongue licked a long stripe along the seam of her. You glanced up, checking on her. A moan left your own lips just at the sight of her, which was funny and maybe a little pathetic. But fuck it. Her lidded eyes and disheveled hair, the way her chest heaved and lips were slightly parted.

You waited. Waited for what felt like an eternity and a half before she gave you a small nod. The go ahead to continue. And you didn’t need telling twice. You buried your face in her cunt, eating her out like a woman starved.

She’d never really be one for making much noise, you were always the one that needed her hand clamped firmly over your mouth to stop you from waking the neighbours. And the entire QZ. But the small breathy moans she did allow herself were like music to your ears.

You wrapped your arms around her thighs, tugging her closer and unable to stop the smile the pulled at your lips as her back arched up from the mattress. You felt like the cat that had gotten the cream- metaphorically and figuratively you supposed- a mix of being smug and proud swirling in your mind.

Her taste was addictive. And maybe now you did understand how people can let themselves become so dependent on something, because who in their right mind would ever want to give up this? And with the opportunity for a hit of her so rare, you dare not let a single drop of her go anywhere but your tongue.

Her hands were twisted into the sheets, knuckles blanching with the force of it, short quick breaths escaping from between her lips.

You slowly added your fingers, working her open and coaxing something akin to more of a moan than quickened breath and you force yourself not to smile again.

“ is it good? “ you asked, curling your fingers in an attempt to locate the same spot she always abused in you.

“ shut the fuck up and keeping going “ bingo.

That had done it. She was just as desperate as you.

It simply made you more desperate, now that you were drawing more and more heavenly sounds from her mouth. You ate her like your life depended on it. It was messy. Indecent. Practically pornographic but you were too far gone, not a single care for anything other than making her come.

And god you needed to feel her come, needed to feel her clench around your fingers and trap your head between her thighs. Needed to hear the sounds she’d make and commit them to memory.

When her breaths quickened and her hips lifted from the bed you knew she was close and you reluctantly detached your lips from where you’d been suckling at her clit.

“ wanna come for me? “

“ I won’t fucking beg you for it “ she said, breathless, propping herself on her elbows to look down at you “ do you know how fucking smug you look right now? “ you could take a good fucking guess.

“ smug? Me? Never “ you curled your fingers again and watched her face soften, her eyes flutter

“ fuck you “

“ you already did “ she flashed you her practical trademark irritated face and you shrugged “ I’m not asking you to beg anyway. Just say please “ she scoffed and you shrugged again, reluctantly removing your fingers.

“ the fuck are you doing? “

“ say please “ she held your gaze for a few agonising moments, and you raised your eyebrow in a silent challenge “ say it. One word “ you started peppering kisses along her inner thighs, across her now puffy and sticky lips making sure to avoid where she actually wanted you “ I know you’re close. Know you want to come. Just say please “ it was mildly cruel. But also a little funny. After years of her making you beg she was finally getting a taste of her own medicine. She dropped her head back into the pillow and groaned.

“ please “

“ wasn’t so hard was it? “ you were back on her in an instant, luring her back to the edge with your lips, tongue, fingers.

The sound she made as she came was otherworldly, choking out a sob of your name and arching her back off of the mattress. Her thighs clamped around your head, forcing you to stay in place and drag out her orgasm for as long as humanly possible. Not that you had intended to do anything different anyway.

You lapped at her entrance determined not to waste a single drop of what she gave you, even if she was starting to affect your ability to breathe. But you figured it’d be a good way to go. At least you’d die happy.

When her body went slack you carefully crawled back up to her, pushing her hair away from her damp forehead and leaning down to kiss her.

“ better now? “ you asked quietly, already knowing the answer. She’d never looked more relaxed than she did in that moment. She hummed an answer pulling you down to lay with her, tucking you into her side. You pressed a kiss below her jaw and you felt her smile softly.

“ don’t get used to that “

“ wasnt planning on it “

[percsane]

-ˋˏ 𝐂𝐀𝐍’𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 ˎˊ

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝐈 : 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐓.

— pairing: ellie williams x black coded!reader

— story synopsis: after meeting joel and ellie in pure coincidence, you tag along with the pair, having nowhere else to go. ellie doesn’t seem too fond of you, but something about her dares you to see why.

— warnings: eighteen plus only content, tlou2 ellie, marijuana usage, mean!ellie, nicknames used: ‘babe’, ‘sweetheart’, etc. father figure!joel

THE COOLING WINTER BREEZE sent shivers down the girls back. holding the shooting rifle close as she shot down the deer, giving herself a mental pat on the back.

It’s almost been a whole week since she’d eaten, been even longer since she ate well. after a long journey of searching for the firefly’s, she had given up.. maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

While approaching the wounded deer, there were hushed noises and movements behind the girl, making her sharply turn around, seizing her gun.

“Make a fucking move I dare y’all.” her breathing was slow, controlled. eyes narrowed at the older looking man with his.. daughter? maybe?

The older man raises his hands, surrendering. the girl however smirks, reloading her gun.

“Ellie. drop it.” The guy calls to her, making her roll her eyes.

The girl… or well Ellie most likely didn’t take her seriously, I mean, she probably wouldn’t take herself seriously. She was covered in blood and scars all over her face, her clothes were beaten up and her curls were wrapped up in a low bun.

“Who are you two and what the hell do you want.” you inquire, your gun still in tact with your hands.

“Listen, we don’t want any trouble. We just heading on over to Jackson that’s all. We was making sure you wasn’t a hunter.” The man speaks, you hum in response.

“Well she sure does look like one..” Ellie murmurs under her breathe. She catches that and shoots right above Ellie’s head.

“Are you crazy or something, what the fuck?!?!” Ellie yells, unprepared for that action.

“Sorry.” A sarcastic smile falls from her lips, shrugging as she puts her gun down.

“I kinda like her.” The man whisper-yells to Ellie.

“Oh shut up, Joel.” Her eyes roll in disgust. So.. not father and daughter?

”Is it just the two of you..?” She asks, tucking her hands into the pockets of her big jacket.

“Is it just you?” Ellie interrogates, eyebrow raised and arms crossed.

Okay white girl.. she definitely isn’t too shy.

“Do you see anyone standing with me?” She asks, with just the right amount of annoyance, added with sass in her tone.

”Well I don’t know you, mystery girl. You could have a whole gang of people jus’ waitin’ to punk us.” Ellie scoffs.

Joel lightly hits her on her head, making her wince in pain.

“Sorry ‘bout her. Her manners aren’t the best.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Nah it’s ight, I can tell.” She says, looking her up and down.

“Do you have anywhere to go?” Joel asks, concern lacing his voice.

“Nah, just me. Some of my friends.. well. That ain’t important, just know it’s just me out here.” She shrugs nonchalantly.

“You could always join us, the town we going to ain’t that far away y’know?” Joel offers, a slight smile spreading across his face. You could tell he had good intentions.. Ellie on the other hand.. you couldn’t really tell.

“And how do I know I can trust you..?” You ask, testing them.

“You can’t, but if you wanna survive.. you’re gonna have to.” Joel concludes, hands in his pockets standing next to a smug Ellie.

“… Fine. But I’m calling dibs on my deer.”

“Oh trust, you won’t need it.”

“Hey hey hey, relax you might throw up if you keep eating that fast.” The woman whose name you’ve learned is, Maria chuckles, rubbing circles on her back.

Clearing her throat, Y/N speaks. “I’m sorry.. I haven’t eaten this well in.. god knows how long.” She nervously chuckles.

“Don’t worry ‘bout a thing hun, I’ll be back with some clothes for you in a minute.” She smiles, patting Y/N’s back.

Y/N stops to gulp down some water when she’s met with Ellie’s face. Eyebrows furrowed, lips upturned, and a total look of disgust colorizing her face.

“What?” She spat.

“You’re eating like a damn animal.” She scoffs, leaning back in her chair.

Gripping the butter knife in her hand, she waves it at the snarky girl in front of her. “Yeah? I can damn well show you one too, keep playin’ wit me.” She threatens, venom laced in her tone.

“Yeah? Try me, Y/N.” Ellie smirked, leaning forward. Green and brown eyes staring to one other with nothing but feral looks in their eyes.

Their stare off was cut off by Joel cutting in. “Ellie. Be nice, there was a time you were once like that, so don’t even.” he murmurs.

Maria returns with clothes, handing them to Y/N. “Here sweetie, these are for you. Once you’re all done, I’ll show you around to the showers so you can get comfortable.”

“Thank you, really.” Y/N smiles, for the first time in a while, it’s genuine.

“And these are our showers, so you can wash all that blood off okay? We also have some med kit’s in the room you’re staying in, so you can get those cuts taken care of!” Maria shoots you a sweet smile.

“Thanks Maria.” She nods.

“So… how did you get here?” Maria asks, making you shoot your head up, tilting it.

“I just.. well a kid like you all alone? It’s just a little strange is all..”

“Listen, if you worried about me bringing anyone along with me, I haven’t. No one I know is alive anymore.. that I know of at least.” Y/N sighs.

“Shit, I’m real sorry-“ Maria starts

“No need. I’m alright. Shit happens, just gotta keep moving forward is all.” She shrugs, small smile containing her lips.

Maria nods, letting the curly headed girl shower in peace.

It’s been a week.

A long, but better, week.

Ellie’s still a piece of shit but.. I guess it’s better than dealing with the infected.

The town was nice, the people even nicer.. all with the exception of Ellie. Maria was one of the few people that you did like. She showed you the training zone, which is where you spent half of your time.

The other half was spent with Jesse. You thought he was fun to hang around so the two of you got closer than ever. Though, the two of you have made it clear that there are no romantic feelings for one another, because of your sexual orientation, and he respected that.

Weird enough.. every time you were with Jesse, Ellie always gave you the weirdest looks.

Like today, Jesse got back from patrol with a scraped up knee. And being his best friend, you tended it for him.

What you didn’t see was Ellie standing there, watching you patch him up and laugh and joke with him. Though she didn’t like you, she didn’t like you.. with him.

Once you were all done you patted his now bandaged up knee, smiling to him, letting him know that he should take care of it frequently so it won’t get infected.

“Hey stranger.” You hear right next to you as you close the door, jumping and grabbing your chest.

“Yo. Ellie do not do that shit bro.” You exhale, releasing the grip on your chest and looking her up and down. “What you want?” You ask.

“So what’s going on with you and Jesse?” she throws at you, making you blink rapidly at her before bursting into laughter, leaving her confused.

“Dude, what?? What’s it to you?” You calm your laughter down a bit, wiping away tears that escaped.

“I don’t know what’s so funny. I mean.. y’know him and Dina JUST broke it off right?” She scoffs, looking you up and down.

“Listen dude, it aint like that. Ion even swing that way man, I thought that shit was mad obvious you damn dickhead.” Y/N gives her a “the fuck?” look, leaving Ellie dumbfounded as she walks off.

“OKAY WELL MY BAD! I GUESS..?” Ellie yells, watching you walk off.

“WHATEVER.” Y/N yells back. “God.. you’re the worst, Ellie Williams.”

©𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦.

[katnissmellarkkk]

Alright girls, I got a request a bit ago for some Katniss / Mrs. Everdeen content and as I’ve never written their relationship before I wasn’t sure if I liked it at first! But I’ve finally gotten around to actually editing it so I hope it’s good and it feels in character and y’all like it! I don’t know if I’ll write a oneshot focused on their relationship again but this was actually pretty fun! I hope y’all who read it have a blessed day and enjoy yourselves 🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-

summary : katniss and her mother bond a few days after she comes home from the games. set between the hunger games and catching fire 💕.

-

I’m never getting used to nightmares.

It’s been two days since the cameras left and I’ve found little relief in their absence. For some reason I assumed once they were gone, the terrors would follow behind them, chasing after the shiny lenses and bright lights, all the way back to the Capitol.

But as it turns out, that couldn’t be further from reality.

Instead the lack of limelight has led to an uptick in nightmare. Not all equal in vigor but all too severe to be properly described by the word dreams.

Sometimes it’s Thresh, chasing me in the woods. Other times Cato tosses me off the Cornucopia to be eaten by the mutts. Occasionally I see Glimmer actually make it up the tree without the branches breaking beneath her feet, grabbing me by the braid and yanking me to the ground where the entire Career pack closes in on me like a pack of wild dogs.

Today though, it’s Clove dangling her knife above my head, taunting me, drawing out the kill. I can’t make out her words, the pulsating in my ears far too loud to understand just about anything, but she says something and then cracks up laughing, as if she’s the funniest person in the whole entire world, ecstatic to be the one to kill the girl on fire.

The dream ends when she plunges the knife into my heart. I don’t actually feel anything but it shocks me awake all the same.

It shocks me awake with such a start that it takes a moment to gather my bearings. It takes a moment to realize I’m alive and safe, in my new house, in District Twelve.

In Victor’s Village, to be exact.

The new home that I was gifted over a week ago, already ready to go with furniture and all, as a reward for my efforts in the games.

If I’m being honest, I feel like it’s taking just as much effort to battle these nightmares as it took to survive the arena.

That may be a bit of an exaggeration but it feels true. For the last couple of weeks I’ve been fighting almost every second of the day to come to terms with what occurred in the games.

To come to terms with all the things I did. All the things I did, with the sole purpose of surviving. All the people I hurt — all the people I killed, directly or indirectly — in effort to stay alive and come home to my mother and sister.

Every choices I made to save my own life has been playing on repeat inside my head every waking second since I woke up in the hospital in the Capitol and I feel like it’s finally going to drive me insane. It’s finally going to push me over the edge, right here, right now, in my new luxurious bedroom with my mother and sister none the wiser.

Of course, the nightmares have been a nice break from thinking of the one choice I made to save someone else’s life.

The one choice that may have disastrous consequences. The one choice I likely will never be able to escape.

Thinking about Peeta and the berries and the arena in those final moments and Cato’s mutilated body as the mutts gnawed away at him — and the look of heartbreak etched across blue eyes — does absolutely nothing to help my current state of mind and everything to exacerbate it.

I don’t even realize I’m crying until my mother’s voice sounds on the other side of the door.

“Katniss?” She calls lightly and I make an immediate effort to wipe my face and keep my voice even.

“I’m fine!” I swallow, hard, choking down the tears still fighting to come out. “Sorry, I just had a bad dream. Go back to bed.”

But she’s already opening the door before I’m even finished speaking. And I suppose I look even worse than I feel. “I know,” she says softly, looking at me with a compassion I would have rejected a couple months ago. “I heard you from down the hall.”

On the ride back to Twelve, between breaking Peeta’s heart and worrying about what President Snow may do to me or my family, I made a serious promise to myself that I would try and make things right between me and my mother.

I know she didn’t choose to be locked away in some far away, dark world after my father’s death. And I know she wishes she could take it all back.

And I know that I could have died in the games. The idea of leaving this world with my relationship with my mother still fractured and tense almost makes me cry harder.

“I’m sorry,” I say now, forcing myself to smile in a way that I hope is reassuring but am aware enough to know it probably looks pitiful at best. My tears refuse to stop and until then, none of my placating will have an effect. “I’ll be fine. Why don’t you start breakfast and I’ll be down in a moment.”

My mother nods, letting me take all initiative in our relationship. Just as she’s done for the last four years.

She turns as if to leave, as if to give me the space I’m so clearly wanting. The space I have all but verbally asked for.

But instead, as if making a split second decision, she surprises me. She spins around and makes a sudden beeline in my direction.

Both her arms wrap around me, holding me protectively, as if she could even begin to keep me safe from the horrors playing inside my head. Still though, her embrace isn’t the most startling thing.

It’s the fact that I instinctively return it.

I hugged her on the train platform in front of the cameras when arriving back in Twelve and I hugged her again yesterday at some point but this is the first time since I was eleven — since I was a child — that I readily accept her embrace. That I go as far as returning it.

That I willingly dive into her arms, just like I would have years ago, letting her comfort me instead of getting angry and defensive and mean.

It takes a moment for her to get over her evident shock, obviously not anticipating that I would even allow her to hold me, let alone clinging onto her like a needy kitten. But when she does, she sits down on the edge of my bed and pulls me into her arms, stroking my hair and rubbing my back in soft circles.

“It’s okay,” she whispers when my cries grow louder. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here now.”

I’m not your baby, I’d shouted at her years ago. I was so angry with her. I was so angry and so righteous and for what? For something she couldn’t control and couldn’t take back? For something she clearly needed help to manage?

I thought I knew everything when I was twelve. I thought I was the strongest person on earth.

Not now apparently, I think to myself as I wail into my mother’s neck, almost surprised that I still fit in her arms after all this time.

I don’t know how long I stay against her, letting her smooth back my sweat soaked hair and breathing in the scent of lavender I didn’t even know I missed while in the Capitol. It’s got to be close to an hour before my sobs die down and even then they threaten to start back up again.

“You’re home and safe,” she promises gently, rubbing my back again. “You will never go back to the games for as long as you live. You’re never going to see another arena. You’re going to live a long life here in Twelve.” Her voice is light and soft, almost like a hum. The way she speaks to Prim after a nightmare. The way she used to speak to me before my father died.

“Where’s Prim?” I croak, becoming more and more aware of how disgusting I feel. The nightmare left me covered in perspiration and I would feel sorry for my mother having to be so close to me if it wasn’t for the fact that she deals with much worse on a daily basis as a healer.

“At school,” she says, pulling back a little to wipe my leftover tears with her thumb. “You slept in late today.”

Right. Prim is starting school again now. It’s almost autumn. Gale is working in the mines six days a week. My mother is beginning to treat people for colds and croup again.

And I have to now decide how to spend my days as a happy little victor.

I suppose today isn’t the day to make that decision though. My head hurts from all the crying and my body feels weak with exhaustion despite the fact that I just woke up.

Before really thinking about it, I lean my head against my mother’s shoulder again, already seeing Clove with her knives reappear as soon as I shut my eyes.

“Are you hungry?” My mother asks, leaning down kissing my hair as she folds me back into her arms. I can tell she’s almost overjoyed that I’m allowing her to console me.

Almost. Because there’s no way she would have ever wished for this to be the reason I let her back in.

“No.” I shake my head, my stomach turning at the mere thought of eating right now.

“Then why don’t we get you cleaned up? Hmm?” She waits for my nod before standing up and taking my hand.

I let her lead me into our new bathroom, where the sinks are white and porcelain and the toilet feels too expensive to use. And the giant tub in the middle of the room makes the bucket we used to use in the Seam feel like a foot bath.

I watch as she moves the knobs around, already having gotten the hang of the appliance, and adds soothing, sweet smelling oils into the water.

Once the tub is halfway full she helps me undress and tosses my damp pajamas into a laundry basket by the door.

I sink to the bottom of the bath, feeling the blazing hot water relax my sore, achy muscles and encase me like a wool blanket in wintertime.

My mother lets me soak for a moment before kneeling down to the right of the tub and getting to work. She washes me up with rose scented soaps and cleans my hair with something that foams when you rub it between your hands and reminds me distantly of Effie Trinket.

“You’d be a good hair washer if we lived in the Capitol,” I murmur as she scrubs my scalp lightly with her fingernails.

She snorts and tips my chin up to rinse my locks. “In another life, I suppose.”

After double conditioning she expertly rings my hair out and then pulls the drain. I sit in the tub until it’s completely empty, having never actually seen huge swirls of water rushing down a drain before. It’s so fascinating that for a moment I consider refilling the tub just to pull the drain all over again.

Afterwards I sit on my bed silently, feeling worn and depleted, wrapped in a towel while she combs out the tangles from my hair, before pulling it into a simple braid.

“Mama,” I whisper as she grabs a silk shirt from my dresser.

“Yeah?”

“I’m so tired.”

My words are plain but the meaning behind them is loaded and she intrinsically understands my true intent.

I’m so tired. It’s only been two days since it all officially ended and I feel exhausted. I feel like I haven’t slept in a hundred years. I feel like I’ll never sleep again. I feel so much older than sixteen and at the same time so much younger and I don’t understand and you can’t understand but I just want to sleep. I just want to go to bed and actually sleep through the night without the panic and the fear.

Wordlessly, she turns back to the dresser and pulls out a nightgown instead. “Then you should go back to sleep,” she says simply, pulling away the towel and tugging the nightgown over my head, rightening my braid and moving back the covers to my bed.

And I crawl between sheets without hesitation and let her tuck me in, let her care for me, let her mother me again, in a way I’ve rejected for so long now. I lay there and let her rub my back, comforting me the same way she does when I’m too sick to push her away.

I’m almost asleep when she leans down and kisses me goodnight. “I love you, Katniss Sienna,” she whispers, standing to pull the blankets up to my chin. “I love you. And I’m so happy that my baby’s home safe.”

“Goodnight,” I mumble into the covers as she starts closing the door behind her. “Thank you,” I add as sleep grabs ahold of me again, but I doubt she catches it. “Thank you, Mama.”

-

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

A measure of reverence, Pt. 1

Please accept my genuine apologies for the month long delay again, slowpokes. I do have the next two stories after this typed out, which amazes even me :D

When - the morning of the season 2 Chupacabra episode whooo. For the Slowpoke Series, the morning after A mighty good team.

What - the group is gearing up for another day of searching. There’s caffeine, chattering about an iconic early 2000s TV show, Daryl cracking funnies (”What are you brayin’ at, jackass?”), and Shane’s gradual descent. And you finally primp your eyebrows

Relationships - slow burn Daryl x You at the friendship level growing stronger every day, platonic Glenn, and more.

Perspective - You 2nd, Him (Daryl POV) 3rd

Pronouns? - she/her for convenience

TWs? - some language

Is it super long? - nope, about 3,500 words

Is it boring? - at times, y’all, you know how it is. This one was kept lighter because the next two are a bit darker

Are there plot references to other stories? -  aw yeah, here’s a link to the Masterlist, slowpoke

Are there lame screenshots from the episode? - naturally, and word-for-word dialogue!

(never wanted to do a bleach wash for a fictional character’s costume so badly)

................................

Early-morning

................................

your morning

“Your mama said yes?” you check with Jimmy again.

“Yeah.”

“I think it’s smart, he knows the area.” Glenn sounds unsure of himself when he next volunteers, “And hey, after we get back, I can help you with…stuff. What, um, what stuff around the farm needs doing? I grew up helping my parents in the garden?”

While those two talk about that, you see that Lori is up and dressed and already hanging laundry to dry. She didn’t really sleep in as much as she probably needed to, but you call “Good mornin’!” just the same and go over to help her.

Dude, you’ve been buzzing around since 6am. The migraine that hit you last night you were able to pretty much do away with after taking the prescription Glenn found—but you woke up early to desperately use the toilet (not even in the RV, you’d used a quickly dug hole by the treeline behind some brush and trees. Blame the magnesium and charcoal).

Anyhoo, you made the coffee today while still half-asleep, and dude, one cup of coffee usually doesn’t perk you up so much!

You’d set up a jar of sun tea for Carol, did laundry, spent some time with Carl, chatted with Maggie and Patricia, survived the lengthy discussion between Rick and Hershel about Carl’s transfusion this afternoon during which Rick still didn’t confront you about how Carl getting shot was your fault and you really wish someone would just out and say it and get it over with, then you opened up + fed + watered the chickens before collecting the eggs for the Greenes, sacrificed a t-shirt to be made into fabric strips for the search party today, primped your eyebrows (finally), made your hair look passable, and wiped down with baby wipes in your tent by way of showering, AND learned some shoulder/neck PT exercises from Jimmy, it was great! You’ve barely even fallen into an inner spiral about the Shane/Lori/Rick/baby situation and about poor Sophia all morning!

Trotting over to Lori, you place your mug (it’s Jacqui’s old mug, actually) on the ground and start to help hang the damp, cleaned clothes. “How’d you sleep?”

Something about the way she says it seems hint that she feels guilty for not waking up early. “Slept like a log, if you can believe it. I didn’t even feel Rick get up.”

“Good.” You shake out and flatten Dale’s cargo pants to get some of the wrinkles out before hanging them.

“Was that your doing, then?”

“Might could’ve told him to sleep in with you last night.”

She takes a slow breath, then pastes on a smile and is most likely trying to sound normal when she asks, “Next time, wake me, especially on laundry day. How are you, is your dizziness gone, honey?”

“All gone.” But ouch, you lift your injured shoulder a little too high while hanging the pants.

She notices and lightly tuts. “Let me hang them, you can hand me the clothespins.” While fixing the line, she makes sure, “Last night, Patricia mentioned checking your stitches. Did you see her?”

“Saw her this morning when I was talking with Maggie. My stitches are doing great, gonna have ’em for another week or so. Why did you have on that frowny face as I walked over here, Lore?” You glance down at her belly then back to her eyes.

With a subtle shake of her head, she hangs up another shirt. “It’s nothing, it was…” she peeks over at you. “Carol just called me our ‘unofficial first lady.’ At first I thought it was funny, but...” That pasted-on cheerful expression falls away to reveal a sort of nervous look. “I-I don’t know why—was that just her saying that, you think?” Her tone of voice suggests that she hopes it’s only Carol who thought so.

However, you shrug very unhelpfully. “Rick is kinda the group’s head, I guess. How’d it come up?”

“She wants to cook dinner for the Greene’s.” She pauses, frowns, and becomes visibly uncomfortable. “But she thought the offer would sound better coming from me. I should’ve told her that was just Ed’s voice in her head, but I was too…I-I didn’t know what to respond so I just kept hanging laundry.”

At least her brows smooth out when she adds, “Dale’s boxers, of all things.”

That got you giggling. “On that topic, I don’t know how y’all got all the bloodstains out of all these. You’d never know.”

The clothes T-Dog had been wearing when his arm got sliced open + the clothing you, Rick, and Carl had been wearing when Carl was shot = clean as if nothing at all happened. Even the clothes the Greene’s lent you that you wore for two and a half days straight (and got egg and blood stains on) look fresh.

You crouch down to grab your coffee and cannot help but remember the phrase Daryl used last night regarding your ‘mother-henning’ as you check, “Did you eat enough breakfast, Lore? That way your vitamins will absor—shoot, we have to get vitamins.”

“I had some water when I woke up.”

“Oh, that’ll keep you going.”

She bumps you with her hips, entertained enough to smile a little.

“Wanna use Jacqui’s mug after I’m finished?” you offer, holding it up. The handle had broken during the rush to leave the CDC, but Lori glued it after. “Have a sip, it’s nice and strong. A little bit is okay, right?”

Nodding, she takes it and her eyes turned glassy. “I miss her.”

Which is why you aren’t expecting the sudden grin after she drinks some. “Honey, this is espresso.”

...........................

his morning

He’d woken up early and taken out the original map to bring to his tent so he could fix all the grids. When his stomach started yelling at him for breakfast, he brought the map back to the campsite and downed a can of beans while working. He even put timeframes down, it was a productive-ass early morning. And that’s with his slight headache after getting slightly drunk last night.

It was Y/N who actually, um…she noticed he wasn’t feeling too hot and went and brought him some painkillers. After poking fun about his breakfast choice, obviously.

Speak of, she’s on her way over with a mug of coffee.

“Good morning, troublemaker,” Dale calls to her. He’s holding this real teeny mug (teacup? fancy shot glass?). “It’s nice to be using Irma’s demitasse this morning.”

Not knowing what that means, Daryl watches as Y/N twists her mouth playfully while chirping back, “G’morning, Dale.”

“You’re definitely feelin’ better,” Daryl muses when she reaches him.

“Miles better from last night. Good stuff is gonna happen today.” She holds out her mug for some reas—oh, the coffee is for him?  

Again, he has to quickly pause and digest what it feels like for somebody to give a damn, then has to shove back the assumption that there’s some hidden angle behind it.

Except, when he goes to grab it, it’s barely full (?).

Carol’s voice pops in from his right, and he hasn’t ever heard her sound so teasing before. Never heard her make much noise at all. “Was the espresso accidental, pookie?”

Ha, ‘pookie.’

“Might could’ve been?” Y/N admits with a groan. “Yo, feel my pulse, it’s goin’ haywire.”

That explained why there wasn’t much coffee in the cup, he guesses. Intending to check over the map again, he’s next aware of Y/N snickering to Carol, “Ohh-ho, can that be his nickname?” with her thumb pointed at him.

What does she mean about a nickname? Best ignore that.

...wait, did she mean ‘pookie?’

His ears perk up again upon hearing Y/N happily announcing, “Nah, I slept off the migraine like almost completely!”

 That makes him stop nit-picking the grid boundaries and look up at her. “Last night?” Is she even okay to go out today?

 Y/N gives a little bow and takes a sip from her water bottle. “Like two hours after falling asleep I woke up ’cause I was getting one, so I took one of the pills Glenn found at the drug store and,” she pauses and turns around. “Glenn, air high-five!” she calls over, and he and she do a little clapping motion from a few yards away. And yeah, she winces because she used her bad shoulder.

Turning back with a shrug, she finishes, “But yeah, I simply went back to sleep, woke up feelin’ pretty good. I th-think having all those other painkillers already in my system helped,” she adds as Carol walks back to, uh, he didn’t know, someplace, wherever she came from. “How’s your hangover, any better? Stomach ain’t queasy?”

“I didn’t drink enough to get hungover, m’fine,” he grumbles. “You, uh, doing okay with what you got goin’ on?”

“Same as yesterday.” She starts concentrating on the new grid lines and appears to be silently mouthing directions while pointing out the path they’d taken yesterday. It’s like she’s studying for a test.

Then a dumb thing happens: when he goes to wipe his nose on his shirt, he smells tuna fish.

Cigarettes he knows he smells like, and BO, obviously, everyone’s sweaty as hell these days, but tuna? He’s gotta draw a damn line somewhere.

When he asks Y/N about it, she’s too absorbed in the grid to give a helpful answer. “I never really mind how you smell, to be honest. Ain’t there a thing to do with gene compatibility and that or some such?”

She doesn’t really mind how I…and what was that about jeans?

Lifting up his shirt again to sniff it then fast as he can, yanking it down where it rode up in the back so his scars won’t be on display, he asks more plainly, “I don’t smell like fish?”

“Oh, that, yeah.” She nods, taking another sip of water. “You had tuna with your breakfast again, right?”

He shakes his head and stands there dumbfounded, trying to figure out how it was possible that he smells like fish (and why he cares).

Rick comes over to study the grid, positioning himself next to Y/N with a “Good morning, weirdo. Daryl, how’s things?”

Then, Daryl remembers how he’d tossed that can of tuna he’d had for breakfast yesterday into his tent. When he took off his overshirt last night, he must’ve flung it right onto the can.

Maybe he should clean up in there…

…Either way, he’s jogging over to change.

.................................

You

“Colored strips to mark the boundaries and searched areas, that’s clever,” Rick mumbles. “Hey Dar—wait, where’d he g—” He looks up and all around. “Y/N, where’s Daryl? I was about to ask him a question.”

“Grabbin’ a fresh shirt.”

He nods and points to a spot on the map. “Do you know what this here is?”

“A high ridge. He wants to get to the top ’cause it’ll show a lot of the search area.”

“Then it looks like you and he are set to head this way after searching this stretch right here?”

“Mr. Greene said most of the houses there were cleared of any sick ones—um, walkers,” you share, massaging the side of your neck the migraine hit last night. “Our hope is Sophia found a safe place to hole up there, it’s right off the trail.”

On her way back to finish helping T-Dog cut the fabric strips for the search grids, Andrea briefly comes over and stands beside you to get a look at the new plans.

Rick’s doing The Squint at you. “Are you okay to join us today? How’s your head? I know Shane doesn’t…” he gestures at you leaves it at that.

Yeah, you know what Shane doesn’t want and what he thinks about the whole thing.

You assure Rick, “My head’s pretty good, all told,” and leave it at that.

“And the rest of you?” he presses, maintaining the squint.

Andrea raises her brows and has your back when she says, “She's able to decide for herself,” as she turns back to rejoin T-Dog, who, as you now see, is inclining his ear to listen in.

“Are your energy levels even any good after givin’ almost three pints two days ago?” you more remind Rick than ask.

He glances behind at the T-Dog and Andrea. Why’s he about to smile? “Well, after about a coffee mug’s worth of espresso,” he chuckles, “I’d say so.”

Ah, another accidental victim. You’re grateful no one in the group has heart issues (and that some of them recognized the mistake by the taste. You and Rick did not have that skill).

“Sorry, Ricky,” you say through an awkward smile.

But it’s cool, he’s still grinning about something. He looks at Andrea and T-Dog again. “When I mentioned how Shane doesn’t feel comfortable with her searching today, she licked the ridge of her teeth just like he does when he’s mad.”

“You’d think they was raised in the same house,” T-Dog dryly comments.

A dumb thing happens: the comment doesn’t hit you like you expect it to. You should have giggled and forgotten about it.

And you like being compared to your siblings, you love them. You loved it when your foster siblings started adopting mannerisms like you guys.

But hearing that silly, little, meaningless observation comparing you and Shane, it hit different…

Stop being an idiot about it. Stupid girl. Shane is a good man, you know that. Give him a damn break.

Rick looks more serious when he murmurs, “Speak of, let me go get him. Just need to go over a few things. Be ready in a few.”

.................................

Him

He had to take a dump first, so he’s only just now grabbing a different shirt. He figured he’d just yank his clean one from the clothesline.

“I can give you one of Shane’s ribbed tanks if you want,” he then hears Y/N offer.

He looks over to where she’s walking with two bundles of strips, one white, one yellow.

Then he looks down at his tank top. Is it that bad?

Whatever, he’s gonna put something on over it, anyway. “It’ll get just as mucked up as this one.” Speaking of, he grabs his shirt off the clothesline and starts to unbutton it.

This look passes over her face as she peeks at his tank top for a stretch longer than he would think was normal. “That was Merle’s,” she figures out.

How, he has no idea.

“You’ve always worn the ones with the thick straps that go up higher, your brother tended to wear the more wife-beater type—sorry! The kind with thinner straps. Ma hated the nickname for those types of tanks.” She follows this up with an apologetic mention of, “They called them ‘wife-beaters’ in The OC, so it’s on my mind,” as if whatever that was made sense to him.

“...That a movie?”

“A TV show. Oh, Glenn!” she suddenly calls over to him.

One of their little exchanges starts. Daryl forgets to put on his shirt because truth be told, it’s kinda easy to get kinda sucked in when those two start, even though those two can jabber on about literally damn nothing.

She stretches her arm carefully. “Your middle sister made you watch The OC with her, right?” she asks Glenn.

“She and I did, yeah. Appa, too, but it was more of a hate-watch thing. Kinda weird they only ever had one Asian on the show, dude, like, Orange County’s got a huge Asian population. We’re like 1 in 6.”

Y/N looks at Daryl in expectation of him being surprised, too, then back at Glenn. “For real?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s crazy.” She flops the bundle of fabric strips from one hand to another. Glenn starts to sword fight it or whatever with the other bundle of strips.

“Oh right, sorry—anyways,” Y/N starts up again, “Maggie and I got to talkin’ about the show over breakfast. We both decided it stopped existing five minutes before the third season ended but we both love that Kirsten and Sandy had another baby in the season four.”

“Oh, and the thing with Kirsten’s alcoholism? And the way Ryan—”

However Glenn was gonna end that sentence gets cut off by Rick as he and Shane stride over to the map laid out on the hood of Carol’s old Jeep station wagon.

“Good mornin’, guys. Let get going. We got a lot of ground to cover.”

Daryl jogs over with his shirt. It’s hot as hell outside, he’s already sweating like a pig in a bacon factory.

He ends up next to T-Dog, Rick in the middle, Andrea beside him, Y/N, then Shane.

“All right, everyone’s getting new search grids today,” Rick starts. “If she made it as far as the farmhouse Daryl found, she might’ve gone further East than we’ve been so far.”

As Daryl finally puts on his shirt, the teenage boy appears from out of nowhere. “I’d like to help,” he pipes in. “I know the area pretty well and stuff…”

“Hershel’s okay with this?” Rick asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, um—he said I should ask you.”

Unless he was just nervous, what that Jimmy kid just said was either a lie or a white lie. But, Rick doesn’t argue.

For a cop, that guy’s a little too trusting. “All right, then. Thanks.”

Daryl catches Y/N’s frown as she looks at him, then at Jimmy, then at Rick with her brows all low, unconvinced. It looks like she’s about to wave Jimmy closer when her brother interrupts.

“Nothing about what Daryl found screams Sophia to me.”

Not even looking at her directly, Daryl sees his friend’s muscles tense up, he can tell even from his spot across from her.

“Give this a measure of reverence, Shane,” she hushes. She’s trying not to react too strong.

“I’m bein’ upfront about the situation, Y/N,” Shane insists. Then to everyone there, he goes on to declare, “Daryl brought her back there just yesterday, she wasn’t convinced. Anybody could’ve been holed up in that farmhouse.”

The way his friend hunched when her brother mouthed off made a big part of him want to mouth off right back. But Andrea, classy as hell, steps in without missing a damn beat. “Anybody includes Sophia, right?”

She was so casual about it that it pretty much made it seem like she was brushing off a bug from her shirt. That chick is good, shit.

..................................

You

Andrea must’ve been such a good attorney, good Moses. You’ve never seen her feathers ruffled, like, ever, she lets it all just roll off. How is she so calm? Because while you were fixing to pounce, probably very obviously, she slid a hand around your waist and smoothly (so smoothly!) pointed out to Shane, “Anybody includes Sophia, right?”

It’s either the jitters from the caffeine or your damned hot head, because you’re just—you’re ready to start clawing at the man who’s overtaking your brother, because why would he have said that out loud? To all them? You’re fucking mortified.

That wasn’t Shane, it wasn’t Shane! Why is he being like this? And why can’t he button his stupid shirt all the way, huh?

Dale is coming out of the RV and gives you a look as if asking ‘what happened?’ so, you imagine taking the stupid tea kettle off the stupid burner to calm down.

No one else seems to be as agitated as you, not even Daryl, which is a huge relief.

Echoing Andrea, he’s as nonchalant as they come when he scratches his nose and reminds everyone, “Whoever slept in that cupboard was no bigger than yea-high.”

To which Andrea is quick to reinforce, “Good lead,” along with Rick when he agrees, “Maybe we’ll pick up her trail again.”

“No ‘maybe’ about it,” he grunts. “We’re gonna borrow a horse, head up to this ridge right here, take a bird’s eye view of the whole grid.” Except, Daryl hadn’t mentioned anything about a horse before, neither yesterday nor today.

First of all, he can ride a horse? Hot. Second…who did he ask for permission about borrowing one? He briefly catches your confused stare as he points to the spot on the map. “If she’s up there, we’ll spot her.”

T-Dog’s been nodding away at all of this, impressed. “Good idea,” he tells Daryl. But then his brows lift and his lips pout a little in the way that happens before he cracks a joke. Lo and behold: “Maybe you’ll see your chupacabra up there, too.”

The tension in your body from a few moments ago goes *poof* as you grin.

“Chupacabra?” Rick repeats, again sporting The Squint.

“You never heard this?” Dale, now next to Daryl and across from you, hoists the gun bag on the hood and begins handing them out while staring into space and narrating. “Our first night in camp, Daryl tells us that the whole things reminds him of a time he went squirrel hunting and he saw a chupacabra.”

Sweet little Jimmy finally relaxes and lets out a quiet giggle while Rick’s squint turns into a mild smirk.

Unfortunately for sweet little Jimmy, Daryl grates at him, “What are you brayin’ at, jackass?”

Okay, you’re sorry, but even though it wasn’t appropriate of him to react that way to an innocent giggle, that comeback was really quick and you’re snorting. Still, poor kid. You switch places with Andrea to be next to Jimmy and make a point to openly laugh at the conversation.

Rick is stuck in squint-mode, isn’t he? “You believe in a blood-sucking dog?”

And Daryl is quick on the draw. “You believe in dead people walkin’ around?”

Yet again, you’re somehow the only one who finds this funny (Glenn, dude. Where are you?).

Next thing you see is Jimmy casually reaching for a long gun.

Rick and you both stop his arm, and T-Dog cautions, “Hold on there, kid.”

“Hey, hey. You ever fire one before?” Rick challenges.

“If I’m going out, I want one.”

Daryl shoulders his crossbow and tosses out, “Yeah, and people in hell want slurpees.”

You’re the only one laughing, again. Rough crowd today.

“Jimmy, yesterday I got ‘quit cluckin’ like a mother hen’ from him, don’t even worry about it,” you share. “You mentioned you did skeet shooting with your dad before, right? So you’ve fired a shotgun, then?”

“Once or—I mean, yeah.”

That means he has no idea, never mind.

Shane speaks up and sounds much more like himself when he does. “Why don’t you come train tomorrow? If you’re serious, I’m a certified instructor.”

“Not to brag, but he’s a really good one, too,” you definitely brag.

Jimmy, overwhelmed at all the attention from grown-up strangers, nods slightly.

Andrea (so smoothyl!) tactfully and kindly solves the problem. “For now, he can come with us.”

“He’s yours to babysit then,” is Shane’s brusque surrender, and he waves Jimmy over with his hunting tomahawk.

Andrea, of course, doesn’t pay this any mind and goes to arm herself with her pistol. You try to follow suit by not staring daggers at your brother.

Instead, you finally let everyone know, “Glenn is going with him, y’all. I don’t know where he ran off to, but these are theirs.” You hold up the yellow fabric strips, then look at Jimmy. “Glenn’s smart and fast, you’ll be in great hands with him,” you say out loud, then whisper in his ear, “I know you asked your mama, but you gotta ask Mr. Greene, too, okay?” Back to a normal volume, you wish him and those around the station wagon, "Don’t die, don’t get bit.”

You’ve just started to jog off to join Daryl and start today’s search when Shane stops you and pulls you in for a hug. He kisses your head. “Don’t die, don’t get bit.”

.................................

the official teeny tiny taglist

@its-freaking-bats​ @spenciepoo338​ @whistlesalot​

[deputygonebye]

@mercyprevaild || Taken from here. 

There's a pause that follows Shane's reasoning... explanation. Whatever he thinks it is, anyway. Rick stops prodding the other man's bruised knuckles and raises his unreadable pale gaze to meet Shane's. He searches for something, an already furrowed brow only growing tighter. Then, retracting his hands, he sits back and barely refrains from taking a more protective position. His hands fall to his lap, his tongue wets his lips as he cants his head to the side.

"Y'sayin' that you did all that because..." Rick trails off, mouth gaping, struggling with his words. My feelings? They both know he's too proud, too closed off to even say it out loud. So he chooses his words a little differently, "Because... of me?"

There's a squirmy feeling in his gut, he swallows around a lump in his throat and he can't resist it, finally folds his arms over his chest. His features turn stoney, lips pursing briefly before he shakes his head.

"What in the world are you thinkin'? This isn't grade school anymore, Shane. I don't... I don't need you defending me."

Splatters of pinks and purples to tanned skin, the knuckles of Shane’s hand were looking uglier than that of the face that he repeatedly punched. Bloodied and broken - the exact number of strikes was lost after about five - another male gone off to his corner of the world crying, whimpering in pain. Shane hadn’t meant to go about and begin the assault. Rather had decided to be the peacekeeper, but all that changed once words were exchanged. Like the bullies that taunted the duo on the playground at school, the punks that pestered Rick and he down the halls of the Academy, Shane sought to make them pay for their unkindness. A temper so hot when it burned - none had ever called him the smarter of the pair - unforgiving when it came to those heavy blows. No one would get away with hurting Rick. Not while the other former officer still stood, not while Shane still had the nerve to make wrongs turn right. It was what he had promised all those years ago. When they were just kids, to both Richard and his folks, when their world became a nightmare. Shane would always look out for him.

A wince dancing across noble features, a hand almost jerked roughly out of Rick’s gentle grasp. As fingertips lightly poked bruises - the pain was sharp - warmed the skin and soothed the aches. A bearable discomfort, in the very least, any sort of hurt was grinned and welcomed. Nothing that couldn’t be gotten over, for one long and cold year, Shane had figured his best friend dead. A member to a pack of Walkers. Never to be found again, a man grieved for every day since. Not once did Shane admit to Rick how many hours he cried. Perhaps didn’t need to, for nobody else knew him as well as Rick did, tears ran down his cheeks over the loss, the death, of his friend, his brother. A heart completely shattered - he was lost. Confused, without his voice of reason, his voice of hope, Shane did the only thing he could do for all that time thereafter. He lived. He survived. He took care of his family and friends, the people that he loved and the people that Rick would’ve loved, too. Having lost him once, not ready to lose him again, since their reunion, Shane hadn’t left the other deputy’s side. Not for a moment. 

Shane muttered, flexing his fingers once his hand was released, groaning, “aw. Hell, man, you don’t need to say that twice. Grade school was a heck of a lot easier to manage than this. Hey, y’all remember that time when I hung lil’Tommy Blackwell by his ankles in the third grade? Little dude was smaller than the both of us, but, man, was he one bigoted nine year old. Rotten kid dared to call you... what in God’s name was it? Somethin’ with a ‘g’ in the name, maybe an ‘f’. I can’t remember. Anyway, he said that word to you, and before he could blink, I hoisted him up to Heaven and threatened to dunk him in the little creek by the school if he didn’t apologize. I swore our teacher Mr. Marcus was gonna beat my behind ‘til the cows came home when he saw the three of us. I knew Grandma Jean would’ve, without a doubt. Guess the angels felt pity on me that day. I didn’t get in trouble. You didn’t, either. Tom went home with a note and no recess for a whole week. Jesus... I wonder what’s happened to him.”

“Look, brother, I know you don’t. I know good and well that you don’t need me defendin’ you. I’ve seen you take down scumbags faster than I ever could. But it’s just... I can’t stand to see you get treated badly. Don’t matter who. Don’t matter where. Don’t matter what. I hate it. Cause, see, Rick, it’s just... there was a time when I thought I would never see you again. When I thought I lost you. I don’t mean to upset you, but I’d like to think you’d understand where I’m comin’ from with all this. Let me ask you somethin’, wouldn’t you do the same for me? If the tables were turned. Would you?”

[frogsarecoolandsoamj]

✨Mouth full✨

Aged up! Billy and Stu x reader fic!

warnings: smut, foul language, knives, getting cut, blood, anal, vaginal sex, squirting, reader uses she/her pronouns, nicknames (ex: princess, sweetheart, pretty girl etc.) being recorded, dubious consent, oral both male and female receiving, choking, hair pulling, blackmail (kinda?) reader is also younger then both men. Oh and spanking

a.n: this took so fucking long, so I hope y’all enjoy

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE AND THANK YOU!

You didn’t mean to get stuck in this predicament. Albeit an enjoyable one, with Mr. Loomis touching you and Mr. macher recording the whole thing on his phone. “This is what happens when pretty little sluts wanna get into someone else’s business, they get their pretty pussy played with until they’re all dumb and drooling, this is what you wanted huh? You wanted to get caught? Answer me princess, or I’ll stop playing with your cute little cunt.” Mr. Loomis growled into your ear.

This had all started when the 25th anniversary of the Woodsboro killings that were put to a stop due to Mr. Loomis and Macher having to kill Neil Prescott, which was the father of Mr. Billy Loomis’ late girlfriend Sidney. Another person killed was Mr. Macher’s girlfriend, a girl named Tatum, who was officer Dewey’s little sister. Billy and Stu (Mr. Loomis and Macher’s first names) were able to live through the brutal murders of Neil Prescott and survive to tell the tale, but you had suspicions. You’ve always had.

When the anniversary was announced to take place a Stu Macher’s old house where it all happened, your friend begged you to go with “Come on! It’ll be fun, I promise! It gives us a reason to go somewhere and meet them! You have to admit, they’re both SOOO hot!” Your friend squealed. You reluctantly agree to go, only because this could give you the opportunity to actually find out if those men were telling the truth from 25 years ago. Once you got there your friend rushed you into the house, where you were greeted by almost everyone from the town, including kids and even the elderly talking amongst themselves and having fun, you just didn’t understand how anyone could feel safe where gruesome murders had happened. You had gotten distracted and your friend was no where to be seen. So you took this as an opportunity to go and investigate the house a little. This led you to go into the house’s garage, where Tatum had been murdered by Mr. Prescott.

You quietly snuck in and shut the heavy door behind you. You turn on the lights and look around. It was clear to you that not much had changed for the past 25 years. The place had been collecting dust and once you looked over to the garage door, you saw what seemed to be where Tatum had been murdered. You knew that she had tried to escape through a doggie door, and was crushed, but my god it felt surreal to be in the same place where she was murdered. It made you feel absolutely sick and uneasy. You walked up to the doggie door cautiously and observed it. You kept reminding yourself ‘a girl lost her life here, and we’re throwing a party, she was murdered, so many people were murdered here and we are throwing a party.’ You finally got the the doggie door and bent down towards it, lightly touching against its frame. It made you feel even sicker and you felt like you were gonna cry. Once you finally stood up to walk away you heard his voice.

“Checking out the garage? You know, we have food in the kitchen.” You jerk your head around to look Billy Loomis smirking at you, one of his eyebrows now quirked up at you questionally. You felt uncomfortable, obviously. “Or are you just snooping around?” He teased leaning against the door frame, holding a beer bottle. You felt your face heat up and you look away.

“I’m sorry sir, I was just curious. I know what happened here in this garage and just wanted to see, wasn’t trying to be disrespectful.” You blabber out a bit. You heard him chuckle, which made your stomach flutter for whatever gross reason. You didn’t want to get flustered around this man, there was something wrong with him, and you knew it. As you were in your head for a moment he had already walked up to you, now infront of your face, almost blocking you from the door.

“Sir? There’s no need for that dear, you can just call me Billy.” He said with a sly smile. He held out his hand, which you took after looking at him with slight scrutiny. You shook his big hand, and he quietly laughed under his breath. “Anyways,” you stammer out, feeling like the atmosphere just got super heavy all of a sudden. “I should head back inside.” You say with a slight nod to the door, backing away from him and moving past him. He let you as you walked to the door. You felt his eyes stare at your back as you left. You felt uncomfortable during that whole interaction, yet you also felt excited, and kind of… turned on? No, nope, you’re just imagining things. You try to reason with yourself as you walk away from the door. You look upstairs to see the Party host himself, Stu Macher, coming down. You watched him look at his phone then around the room then at you. You’re eyes locked and he grinned. He made a beeline straight towards you.

“Nice to meet ya! Welcome to the party!” He says with open arms, in a welcoming way. His grin was big, and he had a handsome face too, even if we was 42, he and Billy aged well.

“I thought this was an anniversary sir?” You questioned him. He dropped his arms and chuckled and scratched his chin, and you felt someone staring at you again. But before you could turn to look behind you Mr. Macher started to talk.

“Yeah, but I think the word party is easier and more light hearted than ‘ Anniversary of the day a guy murdered a bunch of kids and died. ‘ you know?” He made a good point, making you feel kind of like an idiot. He laughed at your embarrassment, but not in a mean way. “ aw come on, lighten up. You look like Billy, he’s always got his panties in a bunch.” He jokes.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate to talk about underwear in front of such a young girl Stu.” Mr. Loomis said, now behind the you. You felt your stomach drop as Mr. Macher nods a bit. “That’s true, my apologies. Billy always has this looked like someone pissed in his cereal. Is that better?” Mr. Macher laughs again and you turn to see Mr. Loomis roll his eyes and then look at you with a grin which made you jerk your head away in embarrassment. You were kind of sandwiched between these two men and you could feel people staring a little bit. “Um, Mr. Macher-“

“You can call me Stu, princess.” You felt your legs shut a little at that nickname. You gulped down your unease and your slight arousment as you look back up at Mr. Macher’s face. “Stu,” you say cautiously. “Uh, can you tell me where the bathroom may be?” You asked. You felt a slight movement behind you and Mr. Macher look behind you. “Yeah princess, it’s upstairs to your right, second door.” He answers. You rush upstairs to get away from all the noise and go into the bathroom and lock the door. You look yourself in the mirror, you felt gross for getting all worked up by two men who you were sure had more to do with the murders. But here you were, your core slightly throbbing and your face all heated up and feeling stupid.

After a few minutes of calming yourself down you quietly leave the bathroom and start to head down the hallway until you hear Mr. Loomis’ voice in one of the rooms. You quietly tip toe to the cracked open door and listen while having your back against the wall next to it.

“You gotta admit, that girl was cute, she got all embarrassed when you called her princess. Fuck, the way your legs clamped together was adorable.” You heard him growl. He was talking to Mr. Macher in there, you knew it.

“Yeah she is pretty cute, you ever get her name?” Mr. Macher asks, and you pull out your phone to start recording this conversation. “No, but I’ll found out, she used to go to our old high school, you know? And Just before she came up here she was snooping in the garage, said she was curious about Tatum’s death in there.” Mr. Loomis said while walking around the room. You could hear his footsteps get closer to the door, which made you tense up.

“Tatum, huh? You think she’s gotta hunch about us? She wasn’t even alive when killed those assholes.” Mr. Macher said, making you drop your phone almost. Part of you felt like this wasn’t real and this was a trap and the other part felt slightly prideful. Because you were right.

“Shut the fuck up. Someone could fucking hear us for gods sake. I don’t need you blabbering that stupid fucking mouth of yours with the door open. Anyone could be listening. “ Mr. Loomis was now walking towards the door and was about to shut it, but froze when your phone went off with a fucking notification. Your blood froze as you felt both of the men in the room go silent.

You looked over as Mr. Loomis pummeled himself through the doorway and frantically look around and finally make eye contact with you. You were still holding your recording phone like a dear in headlights. His mouth was slightly open and he now was leaning against the doorway with a slight scoff. You stop recording and shove your phone in your pocket and smile sheepishly. “Hi?” You say awkwardly with a shake in your voice.

“Hi.” He answers darkly. He grabs you swiftly and before you can even process it your shoved into the room both murderers were in as you were shoved against the wall by Mr. Loomis. “Wanna explain what you were doing?” His grip tightening against your arms, making you squirm and whimper slightly. Mr. Macher now over Mr. Loomis’ shoulder staring at you as he locks the door with a sick smile. “I know what you did!” You blabber out, trying to kick against Mr. Loomis and wiggle away. “ you guys murdered all of them, you guys are monsters, you’re fucking psycho-“ you were cut off by by Mr. Loomis slapping one of his hands against your mouth.

“You’re gonna shut that pretty fucking mouth of yours or I’m gonna have to cut out that cute little tongue, you hear me?” He asks, his face now in yours, and you could feel his breath against your cheeks and neck. Mr. Macher was grabbing something off of a chair in the room but you couldn’t see what it was. You look back at Mr. Loomis and bite his hand, hard. “Ow, you fucking little bitch.” He curses, and your try to escape his grip but he grabs you by your hair and throws you to the ground making you yelp out of pain and surprise and was now looking over you. His hand was now bleeding and you smirk and fill up with a bit of pride. He kneels down and grabs your chin roughly and makes you stare at him. “Listen here you nosey little bitch, you wanna run your damn mouth and be a fucking ditz like Sydney was, I’ll fucking kill you like I did her.” He threatens. Tears are now spilling from your eyes as you feel Stu sit down next to you on the floor and look at Mr. Loomis.

“Or, we can shut her up a different way Billy. She’s gotta cute mouth.” You felt your blood freeze one more as you look up at him through hazy and watered eyes.

“What?” You asked dumbly. Once you blink away the tears, you see Mr. Macher with a phone. His phone. Mr. Loomis chuckles and grabs against your thighs, making you squeal. “Good idea Stu. I think we could shut her up a different way.” He grins as he subconsciously licks his lips.

“Hold still pretty girl or else.” You winced at the cold metal now placed against your neck and you heard the small beep of the recording button go off. Mr. Loomis was now eyeing your leggings and started to pull them off of your body.

“What the hell are you doing-“ you squeaked out before Mr. Macher moved the knife slightly, more to scare you.

“Shhh princess, don’t wanna have to cut this pretty little throat, then we won’t be able to fuck it. And that would be a shame.” He says with a smile in his voice. You felt gross when your body reacted to the nickname as he now straddled you from behind and Mr. loomis ripped off your leggings. “Well, well, well.. looks like someone wanted this.” Mr. Macher teased, his phone leaning in slightly to zoom at your clothed cunt.

“You’re so fucking pretty down there.” Mr. Loomis growled. He grabbed the fat of your thigh harshly, enough to leave bruises and flipped you onto your stomach, causing the wind to be knocked out of you. He grabbed your hip and lifted your ass up. “Stay.” He commanded. You obliged with a slight whimper that didn’t go unnoticed by Mr. Macher who still had the phone recording.

“Aw, what’s wrong princess? Scared?” Mr. Macher teases grabbing your chin with his free hand after tossing the knife to the floor and making you stare into the camera as Mr. loomis starts to unbuckle his pants. “Now don’t make too much noise, we still have a party going on downstairs, unless you want people to hear how much of a slut you are. Be a good girl.” Mr. Macher coos as he slips his thumb into your mouth making you suck on it. “Good fucking girl.” He praises with a groan. You heard the noise of a belt buckle jingling and then felt a harsh slap against your ass. This causes you to jolt up more into Mr. Macher’s lap as you whimper trying not to yelp out. Then you felt a hand caressing against your ass, and then another slap from the belt.

“Naughty fucking bitch.” Mr. Loomis growls as he strikes your ass again with his belt. It made a loud noise as you whimpered and held onto Mr. Macher’s shirt to ease the pain. Mr macher finally popped out his thumb out of your mouth and brushed against your hair to comfort you as Mr. Loomis struck you again. Harder. “Fucking naughty slut, you fucking need a punishment. This is what you fucking deserve.” You cry out when he grabs you off of Mr. Macher and takes both of your arms to tie them behind your back with his belt. You could feel his painfully hard erection against your chest too, which makes you moan slightly. Mr. Loomis grabs your face to make you look into the camera as Mr. Macher unzips his pants and you could see a tent in his boxers. You could feel yourself getting wetter at the second. God, what is wrong with you? You’re letting yourself get toyed by monstrous killers, and you fucking loving it. Mr. Macher stands up and walks over to you, pulling down his boxers. His cock slapped against your cheek, making you gasped out as both men laugh at your reaction.

“What’s wrong Princess, never had a dick in your mouth?” Mr. Macher teases, “I can change that.” He takes his tip and presses against your lips. “Suck.” He demands. Before you could you felt the cold piece of metal against your skin once more . You look down to see Mr. Loomis lightly grazing you with the knife Mr. Macher had earlier. Your eyes widen in fear and before you can say anything, Mr. Macher slaps you, getting your attention back to him with a gasp. “I gave you a command, do it or Imma let Billy fucking cut you up like the piece of meat that you are.” He growls with a smirk. You cry out in protest at the feeling of Mr. Loomis letting the knife cut against your thigh, letting Mr. Macher finally enter inside your mouth with a satisfied groan once the tip finally popped in. He jerked his hips making him go deeper inside your mouth, making you gag when he hits the back of your throat. And since he wasn’t small, the guy was huge.“Fuck, good fucking girl, take my fucking cock in that virgin mouth of yours. Good fucking girl, take it, take it all.” He laughs out with a deep moan, which makes your pussy clench around nothing. You felt the knife against your shirt and it being cut off your body as Mr. Loomis does the same to your bra. You were now completely exposed to these two men. Mr. macher kept face fucking you as Mr. Loomis moved his other hand to play with your pussy, you could feel him rub against your clit, which made you jump up slightly at this new feeling. This earned you another cut to your already bleeding thigh.

“Stay still or I’m gonna fucking gut you.” He warns, knife against your stomach. You kept as quiet as you could when he slipped a finger into you. This made you moan against Mr. Macher. “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet you little bitch. Oh my fucking god, I’m gonna fucking devour you until your doing nothing but screaming my fucking name, and I’m gonna make them all hear you.” He growls out as he adds another one of his thick fingers, moving them in and out vigorously as he curved them just at the right time. You were now moaning around Mr. Macher’s cock like a fucking slut.

“Good fucking girl, ah fuck yes, yes, yes!” Mr. Macher kept hitting the back of your throat, but then pulls out quickly and starts to jerk himself off, “open your fucking mouth.” He says, and you do as you’re told and open your mouth. He keeps jerking his cock until a strained groan comes from him and he cums onto your tongue. “Good girl, swallow.” He commands, breathless. You do, and it was salty and a bit unpleasant, but you couldn’t say no to him. Mr. loomis keeps pumping his fingers into you as Mr. Macher keeps recording, catching his breath.

“This is what happens when pretty little sluts wanna get into someone else’s business, they get their pretty pussy played with until they’re all dumb and drooling, this is what you wanted huh? You wanted to get caught? Answer me princess, or I’ll stop playing with your cute little cunt.” Mr. Loomis growled into your ear.

“Yes sir..” you moan out, which earns you a groan from him and harsher thrusts of his fingers. You felt a pool of heat build up inside you causing you to moan out more, “oh fuck, oh fuck, please, please!” You beg out, repeating yourself like if it was a bible verse as he keeps going, hitting your G-spot until you finally break. You squirted all over his hands and the wooden floor, crying out, breathless. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck oh god..” you pant out.

“Good girl, good fucking girl. Look at the mess you fucking made all over my hands and floor. I’m gonna make you clean it up like the little slut you are. Yeah, yeah you like that? You want that? I bet you do.” Mr.Loomis whispered in your ear. Making you whimper at his words and you winced when he grabbed you by your hair and forced your face to the floor where your squirt was. “Lick it up bitch.” He growled, knife up to your throat now. You did as you were told and licked up your mess as he groaned at the sight, while Mr. Macher watched with a delighted grin on his face, getting the camera closer to your face as you finished up licking your squirt. “Good girl, now my fingers.” He commanded. He grabbed your hair again and yanked it, pulling your head back and making you cry out. This gave him an opportunity to put his soaked fingers into your mouth. “Suck.” He demanded. You obliged and did what he asked, sucking and rolling your tongue against his long digits.

Once he pulled them out of your mouth, a string of saliva still connecting between it and his fingers, he grabbed your face. “Unzip my pants, and take my cock out. Give me a real reason not to cut that throat of yours.” You nodded and with shaky hands unzipped them and pulled down his trousers to reveal his very hard erection that now slapped against his stomach. He was a good 8.5 inches (28.5 cm) long. You stated in shock for a few seconds but then snapped out of it and your mouth opened up for him, he grabbed the back of your neck and forced your mouth down, not wasting time with your feeble attempt to get used to him. Mr. Macher groaned at the sight of your eyes watering as Mr.Loomis held you there for a moment. He was lost in his own pleasure as you tried to pull away and get air. He didn’t stop until you were practically trying to pull away, and he thought it was hilarious seeing you struggle to breath. Once he finally let you, you could only get a small gasp in before he grabbed your hair harshly and pistoned his cock into your mouth, thrusting in and out like if you were a pocket pussy. He used your throat as a fuck toy, his thick veiny cock going in and out of your throat with such ease make you so fucking turn on that you moaned against him as he kept at his brutal pace. At one point he had let go of your hair without you realizing as he still fucked into that pretty throat of yours and slapped you with his free hand. “Yeah that right you slut, oh fuck yeah, take my fucking cock down that little and tight throat of yours. Fucking gag on it, yeah good fucking girl, good girl fuck. Keep going.” He praised as he reached over slightly and slapped your ass, making you moan louder and kept going. His breathing started to quiver and become shaky and his brutal paced slowed, he grabbed you by your hair again and shoved your face all the way down to his stomach. He came into your throat with a satisfied and sultry moan that makes your thighs shut and rub. Mr. Macher finally walked over, phone still in hand and pulled you off of Billy. You were coughing and trying to catch your breath. He still had his pants down and forced your face down to the floor and positioned the phone to face all of you while he grabbed your hips and lined himself up with you.

“Wait, wait, wait!-“ you yelled trying to push away with your hand weakly but he grabbed it. “I’ve never had sex before, I’m a virgin!” You cried out. There was a small silence before Mr. Macher chuckled darkly, and you knew that they didn’t care, you don’t even understand why you thought they would stop. You know you wanted this, needed this actually.

“Well that’ll change soon pretty girl. Open for me, will you? I wouldn’t want to make this more difficult for the both us yeah?” He cooed as he caressed your arched back and you did what you were told, with shaky legs you opened them up for him to enter. Mr. Loomis watched with his cock in hand and his as he licked his teeth.

“I can’t wait to see that pretty face of yours once you get filled with cock princess, you’re gonna look so fucking sexy when he stretches you out.” He smiled.

You tried to reach for something to hold but it was too late, you felt Mr. Macher start to stretch out your little hole with only his tip. You paused for a moment as you panicked and looked back before he slammed himself inside you. Your backed arched at the intrusion and the sharp thrust of his hips against your ass. Which dug against it as you silently screamed. You was too big, oh fuck he was too much. Both men were chuckling at your panicked and pained face as tears welled up in your eyes.

“Aw what’s wrong baby, can’t handle my cock in you? Your slutty little cunt is weeping around it, so I’d say you fucking love it,” he says with a quick thrust which makes you squeal out in pain from the swiftness and his blunt tip hitting your cervix, bound to break your hymen if you haven’t already. You threw you head back rapidly at his movements, and Mr. Loomis grabbed your hands and guided you to find some comfort on his chest before Mr. Macher started pounding into your pretty little cunt. You tried your best to brace yourself as Mr. Loomis petted your hair and you said a small prayer under your breath before Mr. Macher snapped his hips in and out of you repeatedly. The wild thrusting of his hips inside your tight little cunt sent waves of pain as you dug into Mr. Loomis’s shoulders for comfort, trying to keep yourself from screaming. He groaned with a smile at the pain you were giving him and licked his teeth.

“Your doing great baby, yeah look at that fucking slutty face of yours. You’re fucking crying and dripping all over the floor like the little whore you are. Fuck yeah, fucking take it like the little bitch in heat that you are.” He slapped your ass harshly making you yell out, but he covered your mouth. “Ah, ah pretty girl. Can’t let anyone hear you. Your ours now, only we get to see these parts of you, taste you, touch you, fuck you however we please.” He growled. Mr. Macher still thrusting into you anomalistically and you started to feel amazing once he started to hit your g spot. You started to see stars meanwhile Mr. Loomis started to inch downwards to pinch and play with your nipples, sucking and licking your left tit. You whimper out happily as your eyes started to roll back at the feeling of it all.

“Please, please sir, please. Fuck me, fuck me harder. Fuck, yes, yes, yes. Oh god yes.” You whimper out, with an angelic little tone to your voice. Both of them groan and you feel Mr. Macher pick you up off of Mr. Loomis and grabbed both of your legs with his arms and lifted them up and fucked up into you. Your cries and whines of pleasure filling the room as your nipples started to feel cold without Mr. Loomis’s tongue licking them.

“Yeah you like when I put you in a full Nelson? You fucking like having your pussy filled like this, huh bunny? You fucking love being toyed with. Look at that fucking face. You fucking enjoy this. Fucking come for me baby.” Mr. Macher demanded. You felt yourself about to come undine soon and all you could do was whimper out their names . “B-Billy, Stu…!” You cried out as one final thrust sent you into an oblivion of bliss and pleasure as your squirted all over Mr. Macher, yourself, and the floor again. White hot pleasure sunk inside you and twisted your stomach, making your pussy flutter around Mr. Macher’s fat cock.

“Good fucking girl! Good girl. Oh fuck yes. Yes good fucking girl.” Mr. Macher praises, still thrusting into your battered pussy. The overwhelming sensation of him still thrusting into you before you could come down from your high made you squeal out from the overstimulation. Mr. Loomis shot a glance towards Macher and stood up , grabbing your chin to make you look up at him.

“Oh we aren’t done yet honey, I haven’t got my fill of you yet. “ he said with a dark smile, causing you to whimper. Mr. Macher pulled out of you and laid you in the floor. Mr. Loomis got into position and grabbed you up and held up only one of your legs and you thought he was gonna fuck your pussy. You were sorely mistaken as you felt his tip press against your asshole.

“Wait, wait, wait! N-not there Mr. Loomis!” You cried out, which earned you a slap on your ass. You whimper out and squeeze your eyes shut due to the pain.

“I know which hole I want. Now shut the fuck up and take it like a good fucking whore.” He said as he slowly pressed inside of you. It made your face crumple up with pain as you looked Mr. Macher in his eyes, begging for a piece of comfort , which he gave you by holding you other leg and positioning himself up with your pussy again. You cried out at him pushing himself inside of you once more as Mr. Loomis thrusted himself inside of your asshole with ease. The feeling was painful and pleasurable at the same time. It kind of felt like both of them were rubbing against each other but you knew that wasn’t true, due to the wall inside of you that was dividing the two thick cocks pumping into both of your tight holes. It felt like your guts were being rearranged by their animalistic thrusts, into your hot and bothered body, with no remorse or guilt. Not a single thought about the pain you were enduring while they were both busy chasing their highs, using you like a fuck toy. You were only there for those mens pleasure, and you knew it. You clawed at Macher’s back and squealed when Mr. Loomis squeezed your ass for support as he kept thrusting into your tight, puckered hole. You felt like you were about to break your hip with how fast and rough they were being with you.

“Yeah that’s fucking right baby, you’re taking us so good. Yeah you like being fucked in these pretty little holes. Yeah fucking take it, take it like the little slut that was made just for us. No one else is gonna fucking have you but us. Just us, these tits,” Mr. Macher grabbed your left breast harshly, “ these are ours, your pussy, that tight little cunt that’s squeezing my cock so well, that’s ours too. And your ass, oh it’s only ours baby. Only our cum is gonna be in you, only our spit, only our tongues. Only us, got it bitch?” He grabbed your face with a smile, making up stare into the camera. You nodded weakly. “Good girl.” He praised, as Mr. Loomis thrusted harder into your ass. You screamed out for a second before Mr. Loomis slapped his hand over your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up before you get us caught. No one needs to hear your pretty screams but us. Got that?” You make a noise of compliance as they kept thrusting into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck yes please.” You moan out, you look at Macher and connect your lips onto his, kissing and sucking at his tongue. He was surprised by this but didn’t deny it. He pushed his tongue down your throat and fucked into you, your sweaty and hot body pressed against his as you kissed his hot and swollen lips. You sucked at his tongue as Mr. Loomis latches his teeth into your shoulder and sucks at your skin, earning a groan from your pretty little lips.

“You gonna come baby?” Mr. Loomis teases. You pull away from Macher’s lips, a string of saliva connecting before it falls onto both or your chests.

“Uh huh, yes sir. Fuck, please let me come, fuck please let me come. Yes please, please, please.” You whine out before Mr, Macher grabs your throat and makes you kiss him again, this time with much more force and hunger in his part.

“What do you say, Billy? She’s been so good for us. And she’s taking you so well, should we let our little whore come again?” He questions with a taunt after he breaks away from the kiss. Mr. Loomis didn’t answer verbally but gave a quick nod as he kept thrusting into you. Mr. Macher chuckles quietly and sets the phone against a dresser near you all, propping it up against it to look at all of you, still recording. He brings his attention back you you and smiles sweetly. He kisses your forehead tenderly then thrusts into you like an animal once more. You were caught off guard by it and felt like you couldn’t breathe for a second while the wind was knocked out of you with his thrusts. Mr. Loomis grabbed your hips harshly and bucked into your body wildly, almost toppling you and Mr. Macher over as he chased his own high. Mr. Macher laughs at Loomis.

“Ah fuck!” You scream out. You didn’t care if anyone heard you at this point, you needed to come so badly. So so so badly.

“Calm yourself Billy, she ain’t going anywhere.” Mr. Macher joked. Mr. Loomis didn’t find it funny and he bit your neck as he kept thrusting into like Mr. Macher. You were so close, it felt like you couldn’t breathe. “Gonna come soon, how about you, Billy?” Mr. Macher asks. All you could hear was a grunt from Loomis. You felt so close, so close, so so so close. Then snap. It hit you like a truck once you felt the white hot pleasure boil in you, it felt like a flash bomb went off in your body.

Grabbing onto Mr. Macher for dear life, you screamed out silently. Tears started to spill from your eyes as you felt yourself shake uncontrollably from the intense orgasm that had just happened. Mr. loomis kissing the back of your neck, pulled out of you, painfully slow so that you could feel all of this thick veins pulse inside one last time. Once he finally pulled out, you felt empty without him. Huffing and smiling, Mr. Macher picked you up and pulled out of you too, leaving you on the floor, heaving and breathing erratically. Your body flinched when Mr. Loomis lightly grazed your soft skin with his rough and calloused hand.

“You did so well, pretty girl. I might have to reward you.” Mr. Loomis said coldly. His tone made you shiver, even if your body was super hot. Mr. Macher picked up the camera and pointed at your fucked body. “Smile sweetheart, you look beautiful right now.” He laughed out. You put on a weak smile and laid your head back against the cold floor. Mr. Macher walked up to you and picked you up and put you on the bed in the bedroom. You were a bit annoyed they didn’t just fuck you on the soft, comfortable and warm place of this room. Nope, the floor was better apparently. Mr. Macher noticed your face switch from fucked out to slightly annoyed. “Sorry, we didn’t think of that earlier.” He sheepishly admitted, Mr. Loomis scoffing in the background. “Let’s get you dressed and back to your friend before she notices you are gone.” He smiled, kissing your bruised neck. You nodded weakly to this idea and stood up only shaky legs. Both men, surprisingly, helped you get dressed. finding you a different shirt, because they cut your previous one, and you had to your with no bra either. Mr. Macher, being the pervert he is, took your pretty little panties for himself. “I’ll get you a new pair, next time you come and see me sweetheart.” You looked at him with confusion.

“I don’t even have any of your numbers?” You stated. Mr. Macher put you back on the bed and grabbed your phone, and gave it to you. “Here, open it.” You do so with shaky hands and let him put both mens name in the phone and handed back to you.

Once you finally are able to semi walk, you, Mr. Macher and Loomis all left the bedroom to all go downstairs. People were staring and you felt like you were gonna explode from embarrassment. Luckily for you, Mr. Macher knew how to make the attention get off of you. “Thank you all so much for coming tonight, I’m glad y’all had fun! But that isn’t it, we got fireworks in the backyard! We’ll be starting them as soon as everyone is outside!” He stated loudly enough for everyone to hear. Mr. Loomis leading you to your friend. Before you can get to her and explain, he pulled you back slightly with a grip on your waist and whispered in your ear “ you tell no one about this, or I’ll show up to your house and kill you right then and there, okay?” You gulped and nodded. “Good girl, now go play with your friends, me and Stu will keep in touch..” he chuckles. You shakily walk up to your friend, who had been looking for you.

“Where the hell have you been? I was so worried for you. It’s not like you to just up and leave. Oh my god you missed it but I’m pretty sure Mr. Macher and Loomis fucked some random chick in this place! Isn’t that fucking crazy?” She said, you chucked nervously and smiled. “Haha, yep totally nuts!” You said, looking back behind you, Mr. Loomis now nowhere to be seen. You look back at your friend. “ Do you mind taking me home? I’m really tired.” You asked. Your friend complained about wanting to see the fireworks, but upon seeing your face, could tell how tired you really were. They also noticed your change of clothing too. It wasn’t hard for them to connect the dots, but kept quiet on the matter. Once you finally had been dropped off at your house. You fell into your bed and passed out for a few hours.

You were awoken to someone standing infront of you, wearing all back, holding something in their hands. You were still waking up so your eyes were blurry but you shot up and almost screamed until they covered your mouth. Your initial response was to kick them until you saw the mask they were wearing. It was white, and ghost like, it looked Distraught. You knew who it was. He laughed and took off the mask. Mr. Macher revealing his face and looking over to your doorway.

“She’s awake now Billy, come on.” Mr. Loomis walked in, wearing the same costume, holding a knife. You gulped and look back at Mr. Macher frantically. He laughed and grabbed your face. “Oh honey we aren’t done yet with you. We were just letting you rest.” He chuckled out. Mr. Loomis now joining both of you on the bed, take his mask off as well and hovering over you. “ we decided to be a little festive this time though. “ he laughed out.

You whimpered and prayed to whatever god would listen and prepared yourself not to be able to walk the next day.

~The end~ For now!

A. N : I’m sorry for any spelling errors, so I fixed some and added a bit more to make sense of some stuff. I hope y’all enjoyed this, and if you wanna recommend any ideas please do!

[beautifulblooms]

Fighting Together to the End - Eddie Munson x Male!Reader - Part 1

Male! Reader, he/him used, so fuck the canon, it broke my heart, MEGA FUCKING SPOILERS FOR PART TWO OF SEASON FOUR, anyways, fluff, angst, this is pretty much a rewrite of season 4 because I need to recover after the traumatizing events of part 2

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

CIS Women and Female Aligned people, please DNI, this story and all of my others are for non-binary, masculine aligned and male readers!

Why had it been Eddie who got caught up in all this? He isn’t a bad person, he sells some bad shit but he’s not bad. If Chrissy had just found some other seller at the school it wouldn’t have been an issue. If the town didn’t believe my boyfriend was a freak and a cult leader it would've been better. Granted I’m not in much of a better situation being his boyfriend, firstly it’s Hawkins, secondly we’re gay, need I say more.

Eddie and I hid together after Chrissy got snapped apart in the living room, honestly not surprised his supplier was out by lovers lake. If anything it’s smart, constant sales from teens passing by and it’s secluded enough to not draw attention. Getting discovered by Dustin and the rest of them wasn’t exactly fun, we both nearly killed two of them. In our defense, Steve jabbed Eddie in the face with his oar.

“So what you’re saying is that there’s an entire upside down version of Hawkins, and there’s a guy who’s controlling people mentally to kill them?” Having to process Chrissy was enough but now there’s a whole other world we have to understand and somehow get rid of????

“Yes, exactly, see? Someone understands me!” Dustin was a little too excited to be understood, which means he’s had to explain this far too much already.

“Well what the fuck are we supposed to do about it? We’re both being hunted for murder that we obviously didn’t commit.” Eddie blurted out from beside me, equally as tired of this shit as me.

“We didn’t think that far yet, we’re still trying to figure out how he’s attacking people.” Steve chimed in next, rubbing his neck after Eddie nearly stuck his switchblade into it.

“In the meantime, how about y’all get us some food, seeing as we can’t really go anywhere without getting recognized and then attacked, arrested, or killed. Hell I’ll even give you cash to cover it.” Pulling out my wallet I gave Nancy about 60 dollars for food, she seems like the most responsible to give cash.

“What are we supposed to get?” Nancy just looked at me confused.

“Anything really, nothing that needs a fridge, that’s not really an option right now.” I gestured around us at the rest of the boat house we had found ourselves in.

“Great, c’mon guys, let’s get the murderers food.” Sarcasm dripped off her words but Eddie and I still let out dry chuckles.

“Oh! And a six pack!” I looked to my left at Ed’s.

“Really, beer?” He looked almost offended.

“We need provisions, don't we? Beer is a liquid, and we need water to survive.” A deadpan replaced my previously confused expression.

“That’s not the same thing dumbass.” I lightly smacked the back of his head and he let out a small whine in response.

“What should we do while we wait for them to bring back stuff?” Eddie laid back against the walls behind him, looking up at me through hooded eyes.

“Um, wanna take a nap?” I shrugged my shoulders not really sure what to do without the usual stuff we had at his trailer or my house.

“What a fantastic idea my love, now get down here with me!” Grabbing my shoulders he dragged me down against the floor of the boat house to cuddle.

“Ya know I could’ve laid down on my own babe.” A smile spread across his face that I couldn’t even think about being mad about.

“I’m sure you could’ve, but that was more fun. Now, we sleep!” Giggling at his antics I wrapped my arms around his middle and quickly pressing a kiss to his lips before letting the sweet grasp of sleep wash over me. It was only a few hours later that we were rudely awakened by Dustin screaming.

“We have your food, stop being cutesy, it's gross!“ If it wasn’t Dustin yelling at me I would’ve kicked him in the shin and let him fall to the floor.

“Henderson, you're walking a fine line right now.” I only opened one eye to look up at him, but he got the message and took a few steps back.

“What all did you get?” Eddie groaned out sitting up from where he was laying in my arms.

“Um, the six pack, honeycomb, spaghetti-o’s, pasta, some random fruit Nancy picked up, uhh and some other stuff I think.” Steve started going through what he remembers from the shopping trip.

“Eddie, you're not drinking this early, it’s only 3:30.” Looking down at my watch to confirm the time before looking back up at him.

“It’s 5 o’clock somewhere babe, c’mon it’s been a rough couple of days, just this once?” Damn him and those beautiful brown eyes, as soon as he looks at me with a smile I can’t say no.

“Fine, just this once.” Sitting up I rubbed my eyes before looking at everyone again.

“So while you guys were gone, did you come up with anything? Like ya know, a plan maybe?” At this point I just wanted to go back to before everything happened, I just wanted my normal back.

“Well, this would be so much easier if we still had El and she still had her powers.” Steve mentioned this girl again, apparently she’s some super hero with magic.

“Okay this is like the third time you’ve mentioned this kid, who is she?” I still looked tired as shit but I couldn’t give two fucks anymore.

“Oh, Eleven is this crazy cool kid with like telekinesis, she can like invade people's minds, and she helped us deal with the last few times we’ve had issues.” Dustin tried explaining again, but somehow made it harder to understand, especially for someone who got woken up only a few minutes ago.

“Well I’m still lost, but we don’t have this magic kid, so what are we gonna do now?” Eddie said back to Dustin trying to wake up enough to open his beer.

“Still haven’t gotten that far yet, but if we can get into the upside down and kill Vecna it should solve the problem. Only issue is we don’t have a gate, we don’t know where Vecna is, or when or who he’s gonna go for next.” Dustin chimed in again to explain what we needed to do.

This was gonna be one hell of a shit show, I just know it.

[devvbabyy]

Forever and Ever

paring: Rhett Abbott x reader

cw: throwing up, sickness, hair loss, mentions of survival rates, light? angst, if i missed any please let me know!

foreword; Hi! This is my first ever drabble (that i’m posting) criticism is always appreciated but please do so nicely 🙂, lowercase intended. lightly based off lyrics of forever and ever amen by randy travis.

you were hunched over the toilet bowl just finishing your latest round of throwing up when you heard the stairs creek under rhett’s weight, he was just coming back in from tending to the horses and doing his morning rounds.

as the bathroom door got pushed open you heard rhett say in a low voice “oh baby, here let me get you a washcloth, do you want warm water or cold?”

“warm please” you croaked as you wiped the tears off of your face with your free hand that wasn’t holding you up.

“whadda ya need sweetheart” he whispered as he kneeled down to hand you the damp cloth and gathered your hair to get it out of your sweaty face.

you turned your head to look at him with your swollen eyes and replied “i just wanna get in bed honey, i don’t think i can make it, could you help me?”

“of course darlin’ cmon i got you” rhett gathered you up in his arms and made the short walk to your guy’s bed and gently placed you on it. he propped you up against his chest and grabbed a hair tie to start braiding your hair so it wouldn’t get in the way of your face.

As he grabbed the brush to start combing the knots out of your hair you could feel the strands coming loose. rhett gently started at the bottom and slowly worked his way up, he stopped a couple times to get the hair out of the bristles of the brush and you couldn’t bare to look at how much hair you had lost this time around.

three months ago you had gotten diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer, rhett has taken care of you through all of chemo appointments and the bouts of doctors appointments that seemed never ending. one thing that rhett always loved about you was your hair. dark brown, wavy, and almost always done in some type of braid.

early on in y’all’s relationship rhett had asked if you could teach him how to braid so he could do your hair as well as amy’s and any future daughters that you guys were sure that you would have. but that was before, before the diagnosis, before the 40% chance of survival, before the loss of your hair. you’ve tried to keep up with it as much as possible but at this point with how much your hair has thinned and the bald spots that were beginning to show you didn’t know what to do.

rhett got done braiding and you turned to look at him with a soft smile and a look of adoration. “thank you baby, i love you” you whispered as if it was the last time you would ever say it.

“oh darlin’ you know i would do it ten times over, forever and ever” he said with a quick kiss to your forehead as he laid you down.

a while later you woke up to the sun streaming through the curtains and realized that you must have nodded off sometime after rhett laid you down. you reached a hand behind you to feel the bed and was met with cold crumpled sheets. you push yourself up and look around the room you could hear rhett downstairs lightly singing to the radio that you guys had.

as you make your way to the bathroom you catch a glance of the razor that you use to cut rhett’s hair when it gets scraggly. you take a moment and think about your hair and how much easier it would be if you went ahead and shave it off, with a quick glance back you make the decision.

“rhett” you call downstairs with an uneasy tone in your voice.

“comin darlin” he replies as you hear footsteps start to make their way up the steps and into the bathroom.

as he enters he sees the razor in your hand that you grabbed as he was making his way into the bathroom. he stops and leans on the doorway with a quick glance to you, the razor, and you again. with a raised brow he asks “is it already haircut time for me again?” .

you chuckle and give a reply of “nope, it’s my time for a haircut” .

“o-oh?” is the only thing he lets out as he realizes what you mean. “baby, you wanna shave your head?” he asks.

a quick glance in the mirror makes you realize that this was going to happen sooner or later.

“can you do it for me, please” you ask him quietly with your eyes squeezed shut.

“of course sweetpea” is the reply that comes from your sweet husband.

as he goes to plug the razor in you take a breath and start to undo your braid, you run your fingers through your hair and more chunks had come out. that just solidifies your decision. rhett sits you on the counter and you turn around, hugging your knees to your chest.

he flips the switch to the razor to ON and looks at you through the mirror. with a final nod you close your eyes. he parts your hair and starts to run the razor along your scalp, you feel the hair start to fall down your shirt, onto the counter, into the sink.

2 minutes later you hear the razor go off. “okay darlin’ you can open your eyes now, it’s all done” he says as he sets his chin on your shoulder. “i didn’t think you could get any prettier but here we are” rhett whispers in your ear.

you let out a small giggle and open your eyes, as you look in the mirror and make eye contact you see rhett staring at you with pure love on his face. you move your eyes away from his and glance at your head, small peach fuzz was what your hair resembled now. you run your hand across the back of your head and let out a small sigh.

“what would i do with you you honey, thank you for doin this it means a lot” you say as you turn around to look him directly in the eye.

“you know i would do it ten times over sweetheart, forever and ever” he says as he plants a kiss on the top of your head.

[anxious-changeling]

Where’d DIO, AC/DC, and Tonio would take you to eat on a date

Wish someone 🙄 (nudge nudge @hazekura-mikitaka) would take me out on a date like this 🙄 /ij

DIO

When DIO had invited you out to dinner you’d known he’d be as flamboyant as usual. Of course he had to invite you to the most expensive restaurant in the city. Where y’all were seated in a large private room, you couldn’t even imagine how much it cost!

As soon as y’all were seated a man came out and quickly jotted down your drink orders before handing y’all the menus. Even the menus were expensive framed in gold and etched with graceful designs. You honestly couldn’t even comprehend how DIO found these types of places.

DIO pinned you with a smug look that you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at, what a peacock. As soon as the waiter came back and grabbed both your orders you pinned DIO with a playful glare.

Teasingly you ribbed, “So who’d you have to mind control to get us a reservation at such a high end place my dearest peacock.” DIO without falter teasingly scoffed quipping, “What dearest do you not living life with items of the highest quality.”

Before you could shoot back a remark the waiter was at the door with your food, damn you’d had a good quip too. The both of you ate in silence with soft classical music winding it’s way around the two of you.

With both your plates clear you couldn’t help hum pleasantly while enjoying one another’s company. Before long the waiter came back and took your plates exiting with a simple, “leave when you’re ready.”

Standing DIO offered you his hand and you rose to take it, suddenly he pulled you into his embrace to plant a kiss on your head. The two of you held one another as you rocked to the music, finding blissful peace in the moment.

You both ended with night with gentle pearls of laughter and the warmth of one another’s company and love~

AC/DC

When AC/DC had told you to keep your eyes closed as he traveled to the date sight.. you hadn’t been expecting to be carried at what felt like the speed of light. Needless your eyes were kept tightly closed, mostly from fear and adrenaline.

Though the trip was over soon and you could finally pry open your eyes to see what your darling had prepared. As soon as you opened your eyes you were met with the most beautiful scenery.

A full moon illuminated the small pond, making it look almost like liquid silver. In your peripheral AC/DC puffed up slightly as he proclaimed, “This place was once rumored to be where Artemis and her attendants bathed and where Acteon was cursed.”

You could understand how one could believe so this place was fit for a god and not for a mere mortal. Suddenly you were thankful this place had survived into today and not discovered. You could have it all to yourself and AC/DC.

“Now let’s quit gaping and get onto the main event!” AC/DC snickered as he led you gently to a little blanket with a feast fit for a god on it. You mused for a moment that maybe you and the food were AC/DCs sacrifice to the goddess Artemis.

Every food you’d ever mentioned liking sat on the blanket and AC/DC insisted on hand feeding every ounce to you. Under the moons silvery gaze AC/DC looked like a god born anew and he thought the same of you.

“I’d offer to hand feed you my love but I’d like to keep my hands blood free tonight.” You teased as you leaned onto his shoulder laughing lightly. AC/DCs chest bounced with laughter as he laid his head atop yours.

“I could lay here like this for eternity my love.” AC/DC said as he pulled you closed so you could enjoy his warmth as a breeze flitted around you. You both spent hours like that until AC/DC was finally forced to make the trip back but it was time we’ll spent.

Tonio

When Tonio had told you to meet you at a local restaurant for a date it had honestly surprised you! You’d kinda been expecting such an amazing chef to make a home cooked meal!

When you arrived at the restaurant you could see why Tonio favored it! It’s warm and homey feel really soothed a part of your soul and made you feel welcomed.

Quickly getting a table in the bustling restaurant you and Tonio quickly got comfortable. During small talk you learned this restaurant is run by his ‘rival’ aka competitive business friend.

He also explained that while he loved to cook for himself that he also loves eating from family owned restaurants! Something about being able to taste the effort and love they put into the food.

As soon as your lunch arrived your first bite was amazing! It felt like every movement evokes a new flavor that complimented the majority! This restaurant truly rivaled Tonio in the kitchen because their food took your breathe away.

“I hope you’re enjoying your food honey.” Tonio commented cooly, though you could detect notes of smugness in his tone. You wanted to reply with some light snark but you just couldn’t stop eating the food-

After you finished your food Tonio smiled at you obviously pleased that you also liked his choice. Playfully huffing you inquired, “You’ve got to tell me how you found this hidden gem! I’ve lived here for years and never heard or seen this place!”

Tonio smiled evenly clarifying, “I always do a routine visit of every restaurant near me to just see how the food is. I stumbled upon this place and became fast friends with the owner.”

You definitely needed to go with him the next time he cases another restaurant. Suddenly your waiter came to take your plates and asked if you wanted dessert. You couldn’t say no to what would more than likely be a heavenly dessert!

As soon as your dessert was out of the kitchen and on the table you were drooling. Tonio had to stifle a laugh as you stared starry eyed at the dessert. Though he has to agree to your reaction as you both dig in.

Later in the day both you and Tonio sat on the couch, cuddled up, sharing a to go box of an extra dessert from earlier. Good food and good cuddles an excellent way to end an amazing day~

[kikis-writing-world]

To Be Wanted

Summary: Frankie reminds you that you’re loved after your mother bails on you.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x GN!Reader (I wrote this in a bit of an emotional tizzy, so if I missed anything that would make this GN, please point it out to me.)

Word Count: 1.1k

Rating/Warnings: Reader struggles with being unwanted, so a touch of angst. Ends in fluff. Talk of reader’s mother not being super present in their life.

A/N: This is incredibly self indulgent, and I won’t pretend it’s not. My mom cancelled plans on me yet again and I fell into a place of feeling unwanted. I wrote this to dig myself out of the pit, and I thought some of y’all might enjoy some soft, loving Frankie.

Frankie watched from his spot on the couch as you paced back and forth across the living room. The movie you had been watching was paused and completely forgotten about as you listened to the tinny voice coming through the speaker. Your hair was a mess from how much you had run your hands through it in frustration, feeling like you were holding back tears as you tried to keep your voice light. Yelling and getting upset wasn’t going to solve anything, not that there seemed to be a way to solve this anyway.

You dropped onto the couch as the call ended, tossing the phone onto the cushion next to you. You sat on the edge, leaning your elbows on your knees as you let your head hang forward. Your hair gave you the perfect curtain to hide behind as the tears welled in your eyes, but Frankie knew you too well for you to hide.

“Tell me,” he prompted, sitting up and scooting forward to sit next to you on the edge of the couch. His long arm fell around your shoulders, lightly tugging you against him.

“She cancelled. Again.” You laughed bitterly. You inhaled deeply through your nose, trying to stop it from running as you tossed your hair out of your face. “Of course she cancelled. She hasn’t been out here since we got married.”

“I’m sorry, cariño.” Frankie sighed, running his hand up and down your back. “I know how much you were looking forward to her visiting.”

You nodded in thanks, biting your lip as you replayed the conversation in your head. It made you laugh once more, a sad, angry noise.

“She said she couldn’t leave the cat behind.” You shared, glancing at your husband through your watery eyes. He frowned, just as unhappy with the excuse as you had been. “Right? It’s a damn cat, board it for the weekend. Hell, just put down some extra food, it’ll be fine.” You scoffed, standing from the couch. You were too upset to sit still, too much errant emotion running through you. You started pacing again.

“Tell her to bring the cat.” Frankie offered, watching you as you marched the same path as before.

“Your allergies.” You pointed out with a shake of your head.

“I’ll survive for a weekend if it means you get to see your mom.” He argued.

You stopped pacing to look at him. His deep brown eyes were staring up at you, earnestly. “Frankie-”

“I’ll take allergy pills while she’s here, and we can get the carpet cleaned when she leaves.” He pointed out, standing from the couch with a soft groan. “It’s due for a cleaning anyway.”

“You shouldn’t have to do that.” You sighed, cupping his cheek as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Doesn’t matter.” He brushed it off. “I’d live with a hundred cats if it made you happy.”

You chuckled, resting your head on his shoulder. “No you wouldn’t. You hate cats.”

“I really do.” He admitted. You could hear the grin in his voice and knew his dimple would be showing. “But I can put up with one for a weekend.”

You debated it for a second, but it only took that second to know it was a bad idea. “She’d just come up with another excuse.” You admitted sadly. “The cat doesn’t like flying or the airline doesn’t treat animals properly… She always finds a way to cancel at the last minute.”

Frankie hummed, nodding in agreement. He’d heard the stories your mom could tell, the things she believed to be true and refused to budge.

“We both know it isn’t about the cat,” you whispered, feeling the tears springing in your eyes again. “It’s about me.”

“Don’t do that.” He told you, his voice calm but firm. “Don’t put this on yourself.”

“I don’t know how else to feel about it, Frankie.” You argued, pulling out of his embrace so you could pace again. “If she really gave a shit-”

“-stop it-”

“-she’d make it work.”

“And that’s on her.” He grabbed hold of your hand as you moved to pass him, pulling you into his arms once more. “If she’s blind to the wonderful person she’s missing out on by choosing to not come visit, then that’s her loss.”

You rolled your eyes at the cliché. Frankie in turn narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m serious.” He continued as he pulled you onto the couch. He didn’t speak again until you were cuddled into him with nowhere to go.

“You are wonderful. You’re so smart and kind. You’re patient with me when I’m having a bad day. You sing to help me fall back asleep when the nightmares wake me up at night. You leave little notes when you pack my lunch that make me smile and all the guys at work start teasing me-”

You chuckled at that, imagining the way his coworkers would accuse him of being whipped.

“You don’t care that when I get home from work, that I’m sweaty and smell like shit. You still kiss me before I have a chance to shower. You remember my favorite snacks, how I take my coffee, what I want to eat after a night of drinking-”

“So what? You’re my husband. Of course I know those things.” You shook your head, looking up at him to figure out what he was getting at.

It was Frankie’s turn to roll his eyes this time, a grin on his lips before leaning down to kiss you. “If this is how good you are to me, just because you love me, then she’s the one who is missing out.” His lips brushed against yours as he spoke softly. “Because anyone who is lucky enough to be loved by you,” he paused, smiling down at you. “There’s nothing like it, cariño. The world- my world is a better place for having you in it, and anyone who won’t make sacrifices to feel that, well they just don’t deserve that love.”

You sniffled, feeling overwhelmed as you hid your head in Frankie’s neck. You could hear his pulse as it thrummed through his veins, soothing and steady like the hand running up and down your arm. The two of you were quiet as you took in his words, letting them wrap around your heart and emotions, letting them warm you from within the way his arms warmed you from outside. The scent of him surrounded you, the spice of his soap, the tang of his sweat, the clean laundry scent - you let it push away the pain of rejection like a shield.

“Thank you.” You whispered, eyes heavy as you snuggled closer.

One of his arms left you, but a moment later you felt the blanket from the back of the couch being draped across you. He reached behind him and turned off the lamp beside the couch, leaving the room illuminated only by the dull white-blue light from the paused TV.

“Anytime,” he promised as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata @phoenixhalliwell @dihra-vesa @vonschweetz​ @driedgreentomatoes @computeringturtle @spideysimpossiblegirl