#I still feel trapped in a living nightmare. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

see-arcane · 6 days

Text

Our good friend Jonathan Harker is getting ready to leave for his business trip, Mina Murray is picking out a new journal, Lucy Westenra is charming a gaggle of smitten suitors, Abraham van Helsing is wrapping up his lectures, and Castle Dracula is prepping the guest room for a very long stay.

Which must mean that Dracula Season is here again!

‘Dracula Season’ being a catchall term for the voracious reading, memeing, writing, illustrating, analyzing, and general fun-having that’s ensued since Matt Kirkland’s project, Dracula Daily, caught on with us back in 2022. The Substack had already been running before then, but it sparked a conflagration as time went on and readers old and new to Bram Stoker’s Dracula—the actual novel, not Coppola’s fanfiction—devoured it in a way that scratched an itch none of us knew we had. Stoker wrote the book in epistolary fashion, clumping sections together as needed for the pacing without perfect adherence to chronological order. Matt went ahead and put all the events in order and proceeded to set up a lovely chain of emails that delivered entries on those correlating dates.

This style of organization and pacing turned out to not only make the virtual book club that much easier to engage with, but left space in-between to stew on the story and relate with the characters themselves. Every day of waiting in the book feels weightier when you have to pace and sweat and worry in tandem with poor Jonathan trapped in the castle or Lucy wasting away or Mina running out the clock before she loses the fight for her own humanity. And while we sat with the story or the lulls between Dracula Seasons, some of us found ourselves craving more of that ghastly gothic horror goodness to the point that we figured:

“Well. Why don’t I make something?”

And then we did! Tons of creative works have been churned out in the wake of Dracula Daily’s high. I figured that while we’ve still got a bit of time to wait for May 3rd, we should check out all this new stuff in the meantime. (Plus a handful of neat stuff that just clicks with the Dracula itch overall.)

So, in the interest of Dracula Season pregaming, let’s take a look at…

FICTION

Blood of My Blood – A recent addition to the Dracula Bad Ending AU pile, and definitely one of the most harrowing and addictive group-produced narratives I’ve ever come across, Blood of My Blood is the dramatically gothic currently-WIP work of @ibrithir-was-here and @animate-mush’s devious design. Give or take a heap of other fascinated folks (hello!) adding ideas to put more Horror into the Horrors that our cast has to face. The premise:

The Transylvanian climax went fatally sour and the Harkers were forced to shelter with Dracula himself, including their half-vampire son, Quincey. Cut to two decades later, and Quincey finds himself out in modern London, smitten with Lu, adopted daughter of Arthur and Jack, and diving into certain bloodstained old documents that detail the real history of how his parents came to live in the castle. Said revelations coming not a moment too soon, as a storm is coming for him straight from the Carpathians…

Dracula Daily Sketch Collection – An array of illustrations that captures every entry beat by beat, the Dracula Daily Sketch Collection by Georgia Cook, alias @georgiacooked was dished out over the course of the last Dracula Season. Some of the most fun character designs out there.

Fanfiction Spotlight: BlueCatWriter – With a whopping 99 works devoted to the novel Dracula (so far, the number may have gone up since I blinked), @bluecatwriter is one of the most prolific and talented fanfiction scribblers out there. Romances, nightmares, and overlaps between the two seem to crop up the most, give or take a crossover. Seems fitting that those blue paw prints have contributed to BoMB too.

The League of Extraordinary Gentlefolk – An ongoing comic in which all your favorite characters from the Classics section get together and tackle some perils ranging from the mundane to the monstrous. Started by the amazing @mayhemchicken and posted on @lxgentlefolkcomic, this series is a love letter to beloved Victorian era lit, with a spotlight on the two couples leading the League. Namely, the Harkers, ala Dracula, and the Nortons, ala Sherlock Holmes,’ “A Scandal in Bohemia.” Mina and Irene are the driving investigative and steering forces here, and still deeply in love with their likewise-infatuated husbands, just like in their canons! What a concept! Alan.

Without spoiling the full character list, just know there are going to be a ton of familiar faces roaming around before you finish reading the first arc. Said arc having conveniently wrapped up just a few days ago! Give the comic and its bonus silliness a look if you’re in the mood for a new comfort-adventure epic.

Re: Dracula – Probably the most well-known and incredible thing to come out of the initial Dracula Daily wave. This podcast is a full audio drama that follows the same format as the Substack, with episodes coming out in time with the entries themselves. And it has an unfairly cool soundtrack. They have a Tumblr with @re-dracula, a site and a Patreon to check out before the series kicks up again on May 3rd. (Also, keep an eye out for their next work, an audio drama in the same style with Carmilla.)

The Soldier and the Solicitor – Another treat from @ibrithir-was-here, this one involves a bit of time travel trouble. Quincey Harker has stumbled out of World War I and into the same dark forest where his father once fled for his life…then runs into the man himself, on that same night. Jonathan Harker, young and starved and lost, who has no choice but to trust this stranger while the Weird Sisters are at his heels…despite said stranger having no shadow. It’s a tasty emotional trek, already complete on Tumblr, but now it’s turning into a Webtoon. While Ibrithir is juggling a number of other stories, she’ll be redrawing spruced up versions of the comic and adding a few new scenes as things unfold.

Substack Stack – You know what’s better than one emailed-out public domain book club? A mountain of them. Just. So, so many of them. You’ll see that a lot of these are finished, but some are still ticking along. Either way, they’re all great picks if you’re craving some more old school lit to fill the void between undead emails.

Frankenstein Weekly – Frankenstein

Jekyll and Hyde Weekly – The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Voyage of the Nautilus – Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

Letters from Watson – Sherlock Holmes

The Invisible Mail – The Invisible Man

Letters from Bunny – E.W. Hornung’s short stories of the eponymous Bunny and Raffles

Letters Regarding Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse’s Bertie Wooster short stories, including the novel, Right Ho, Jeeves

…

……

………

…The Beetle Weekly – The Beetle (NOTE: Do Not Read This.)

The Vampyres – A novella I finally wrenched through the gears of self-publication as of March this year. Starring a petite but powerful paranormal cast, The Vampyres, centers on an unscrupulous undead fellow who finds that the revenants of the world are being mowed down by an entity known only as ‘Quinn Morse.’ Between trying to save his neck and figure out where the shadowy bastard came from, the Vampyre in question crosses paths with a new paramour and handy human shield in the form of a grieving Good Samaritan. He’s even polite enough to invite the Vampyre into his home while he’s in dire straits! Surely this will end well. All the info is available here and a little author site is over here.

What Manner of Man – This is the one made for everyone who started out hoping there’d be a real love story with our good friend Jonathan Harker and the Count when he was at his most charismatic. Where that sea of wonders dried up into a mire of horror, What Manner of Man by @stjohnstarling keeps things firmly on the romantic tracks. This Substack stars the letter-writing priest Father Victor E. Ardelian as he finds himself meeting with one enigmatic Lord Alistair Vane. It isn’t long before interest turns into intrigue and intrigue into undead intimacies.

The entire novel has been completed—along with multiple epilogues in the author’s Patreon, allowing readers to choose for themselves just how the uncanny romance plays out in the end—and the Substack now has a number of other gothic goodies piling up in the meantime.

NONFICTION

Dracula Daily: A Unique Reading Experience: This one comes courtesy of @realwomenofgaming. It’s a short and sweet piece that amounts to a fun snapshot of the entire Dracula Daily ride. A cozy couple-minute read.

‘Dracula Daily’ is the One Substack You Need a Subscription To: Features my favorite Matt Kirkland interview. @mattkirkland, if you’re still floating around on here, thank you for dispatching our vampire newsletter again this year.

Dracula Daily is Tumblr’s hottest new book club: Alright, the ‘new’ part is worn out by now, but this one is still a delightful article to swing back around to. Two years on, this Polygon piece is a time capsule of those early months when people outside our bookworm bubble realized we were all happily receiving letters from our favorite classic gothic horror blorbos.

“How Mina Murray Became Dracula’s Girlfriend” – Princess Weekes, if you ever read this, thank you, thank you, thank you. I am sending oceans of love and millions of rewatches to your video essay. If you haven’t seen it yet, “How Mina Murray Became Dracula’s Girlfriend” is one of the most refreshing and well-made breakdowns of both the title subject and numerous other issues that have proliferated in the public view of Dracula’s cast and plot as adaptations endlessly warp or outright bastardize the actual novel. An incredibly cathartic watch.

Literary play gone viral: delight, intertextuality, and challenges to normative interpretations through the digital serialization of Dracula: A mouthful of a title for an even more elaborate article about the Dracula Daily phenomenon. This one is a full-on study that analyzes just what happened within the big bloodsucker book club surge and how its ‘wandering reading practices’ enriched the experience for participants.

“The Undying Undead: An analysis of the Dracula Daily community for a theory of online community formation and interaction” – We have a thesis on here! Look at that! @sirangelothebestest’s MA thesis used our vampiric book club as the bones for a massive brick of an academic piece that definitely deserves a look.

…And I think I’ll go ahead and cap things here.

This isn’t everything I got recommended, but if I had squashed all of it in here, I think folks’ eyes would start to fall out of their head. I hope you can find something cool to comb through here. Or, if there’s something great I overlooked, tack it onto the list! We’ve got just two weeks to go until we’re off with Mr. Harker. Let’s enjoy our respite before those castle doors close behind us.

#time for Dracula Season pre-gaming :3 #thank you to everyone who sent in their suggestions!#dracula #dracula daily #re: dracula

1K notes · View notes

redskyvenus · 3 months

Text

NOBODY’S BUSINESS ⟡ CHOSO KAMO

content warnings: 18+ nsfw, non-curse AU, slight angst, bestfriend!choso x fem reader, cheating (reader gets cheated on/cheats back), choso is pussydrunk, consensual recording, creampie, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f receiving), pet names, praise, smut, squirting, toxic relationship, unprotected sex┊wc: 3k

notes: this is loosely based off of a very nsfw dream i had about choso a few months ago, oops┊tags: @manjibunny @rookie98writes @jabamin @satoruhour @kizoken @marimogf @screampied

masterlist

Never in a million years did you anticipate reading the nauseating words that adorned your screen.

It felt like pure agony, as if your heart had been shattered into a million fragments. The shock overwhelmed you, finding out through a mutual friend that your boyfriend got caught having sex with another girl at a party. Buried alive inside a nightmare, you were spiraling — as if the very foundation of the perfect world you lived in had crumbled beneath your feet.

Your relationship with Naoya had only begun four months ago. Initially seeming idyllic, until you slowly started to see a darker side of him. There were early warning signs when you first got together, but you brushed it off, viewing your relationship through rose-coloured glasses.

He had always taken you for granted, never buying you flowers or getting you any gifts for your monthly anniversaries. Making empty promises and getting your hopes up were his specialties, but you were blinded by his looks. Failing to see he was only using you for his own selfish desires.

Much like a ravenous crow, he always found himself looking for the next shiny, pretty girl he could get his hands on to manipulate and discard once boredom set in. A never ending hunt for a new prized possession — a twisted cycle that left behind a trail of endless heartache he showed no intention of breaking.

Blaming yourself for not seeing through his façade sooner, you were already trapped in his iron grip when it was too late.

He had an extremely flirtatious nature you hated, only worsening while talking to girls you couldn’t stand. It was like a sick power trip to him, letting his eyes wander a little too long on whoever piqued his interest, not even caring in the slightest that you were standing right next to him. But he knew you would never dare to leave, well aware of your devotion to him.

To Naoya you were just a mere object; his possession, devoid of thoughts and feelings. The polar opposite of how your best friend Choso treated you right from the beginning of your friendship. He regarded you as delicate and fragile — not wanting to cause you any harm, always being extremely protective of you.

His envy of Choso's genuine love for you only fueled his toxic possessiveness. Naoya didn’t truly care about you, he just didn’t want anyone to get close and steal you away from him. You hated how the fake affection he showed made you desperately cling on to the good parts of a relationship that was slowly falling apart. His love was like a drug, and you were addicted.

You could fix him. It was just a mistake, he didn’t want to lose you — he loved you.

With trembling fingers, you desperately scrolled through your contacts to call the one person who could mend your soul.

“C’mon…” Anxiously pacing around the living room, your body violently trembled as you attempted to suppress the intense nausea. “Answer the fucking phone, Choso…”

The phone rang a few times, each passing second feeling like an eternity, before a deep, honeyed voice finally filled your ears. A sigh of relief washed over you in the midst of your hellish heartache.

“Hello?”

Breathless and shaken up, you cried into the microphone. “Oh, thank god. You’re still awake.”

“What’s going on? Are you o-” Before he could finish his sentence, your soft, melancholic voice cut him off.

“Can you come over… like right now? I’m at Naoya’s house.”

“Of course. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Need you right now,” you sniffled, tears staining your screen.

“‘m coming. Just stay where you are; everything will be okay.” His calm aura always knew how to soothe you, even in the midst of utter despair. You clung to him, hoping that his presence would be a balm for the searing pain in your chest.

After ending the call, a mix of emotions swirled within you —anger, betrayal, and a longing for solace.

Rushing to the bathroom, you tried emptying your stomach but to no avail, tears streaming down instead. Kneeled on the tiled floor, your cries were interrupted by the loud ringing of the doorbell, prompting you to stand up. Shaky legs moved towards the entrance.

Slowly opening the front door, big, beautiful purple eyes met yours—a spark of electricity rushed through your veins. He had never looked this worried before.

”Hey.”

“Hey…” You greeted, looking up at him distraught, but his loving gaze never faltered. ”Thank you, Choso.”

“Of course, anything for you.”

He stepped inside, closing the door. Trying to hold back tears, you jumped into his big, strong arms. Inhaling his familiar scent to regulate your uneven breaths. He softly kissed the top of your head, gentle hands wiping away the mascara stains from your cheeks. “Let’s go get you some water first, and then we’ll talk.”

Choso walked into the kitchen, opening different cabinets to find a drinking glass, filling it with water before handing it to you.

“So, who dared to upset my girl?” You almost choked on the liquid, thinking you must have heard it wrong. Trying your hardest not to burst into tears again as the words of that damned text flooded your memory, you struggled to gather your words.

“I received a text from Yuki about half an hour ago. She told me Naoya cheated on me at Sukuna’s party,” you felt your heart aching again. Choso, in absolute disbelief, furrowed his brows, and his expression morphed from shock into anger. “He didn’t even care that he got caught.”

”What — he did what?” The rage inside of him fired up quickly, “I will beat the shit out of that blonde bitch. What the hell is wrong with him?”

“Don’t call him that.”

He scoffed, “Why not? He doesn’t give a fuck about you, so why would I care about him?”

“I don’t know. But just don’t, please.”

“I’m not letting him get away with it.”

You sighed deeply, leaning against the countertop. “I know, but I love him.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Choso knew you well enough to understand that you wouldn’t give up on Naoya, even if your relationship was on the verge of sinking like the Titanic.

”You’re honestly insane if you forgive him after pulling shit like this.”

“It was just a mistake, Choso.”

”Yeah, right—he accidentally slipped and fell into another girl’s pussy,”

“Fuck you,” you glanced at him, a hint of genuine anger laced in your voice.

”C’mon… Do you really think he won’t do it again? Be honest with yourself.”

”I don’t know how to break up with him.”

“You do know, you just don’t want to. That’s different.” Trying to mend fractured relationships and giving second chances to people who didn’t deserve your forgiveness. It was your best and worst characteristic simultaneously.

“Kinda sucks that he gets to have you, and I can’t. I could treat you way better — just sayin’,” Choso mumbled nonchalantly.

“What was that?” You raised an eyebrow, looking back up at him surprised. Your words hung in the air, a heavy silence enveloping the kitchen. His admission lingered between you, creating a palpable tension. You shifted uncomfortably, the chaos of emotions swirling within you making it difficult to find the right response.

”I can’t believe I’m actually saying this out loud,“ Choso repeated, his voice a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity. “But I want you — I’ve wanted you since the day I first laid eyes on you. You deserve to be treated like the amazing woman that you are,” he spoke into your ear, before pressing a loving kiss on your right cheek.

His warm breath sent shivers down your spine, and the gentle kiss on your cheek left you confused. “C-Choso… d-don’t say that,” you stuttered.

He knew it was wrong to admit it, but he couldn’t help himself.

“It’s the truth,” he insisted, his gaze unwavering. He gently grabbed your chin, making you look up at him. “Listen to me, I’d let you break my heart, if that means I get to show you for one night what it means to actually be loved.”

The echoes of his confession lingered in the room, intertwining with the complex emotions weaving through your heart. The fragile state of your relationship with Naoya, coupled with his true feelings, left you feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

Choso released his hold on your chin and took a step back. “I didn’t plan on saying any of that out loud. But I needed you to know.”

You closed your eyes, allowing your hazy mind to take over. ”Kiss me,” you breathed out loud, the words escaping before you could fully comprehend their weight.

His eyes widened in surprise, trying to process your words. ”W-What?”

”I said… Kiss me.”

Taken aback by your sudden request, he hesitated for a moment before closing the distance between you. His smoky scent enveloped you in a dizzying cloud.

He leaned in, letting his breath fan over your face before soft lips met yours in a tentative, passionate kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you embraced it, letting the warmth of Choso’s affection wash over you. The chaos of your emotions slowly subsiding. As the kiss deepened, his hands found a delicate place on your waist, pulling you closer. Your eager fingers got lost in his dark locks, making his hair fall down. The room filled with the rhythmic sound of your shared breaths.

Big hands sneaked under your oversized black shirt, exploring every inch of your soft body. His touches became more sinful, making you further sink into his embrace.

A little whimper escaped you as you felt his wandering hands everywhere. He broke the kiss to bury his face into your neck, planting hot, wet kisses along your jawline. He started to temptingly suck on the skin, your lewd moans growing loader. ”Mmphh, Choso — don’t stop,” he could feel his cock stir in his gray sweats.

Touches becoming more desperate, his muscular body pushed you against the wooden cabinets. The impact making a jar fall to the tiled floor, there was so much dizzying tension between you he thought he might actually faint.

Suddenly he halted his attack on your neck. You squealed as he lifted you up effortlessly, carrying you bridal style to Naoya’s bedroom.

”You have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he shamelessly whispered in your ear. Laying you down on the soft pillows that covered the bed, his tall figure loomed over you. Quickly taking off his shirt before he lifted up yours slightly, uncovering your breasts. Choso grazed his lips along your chest, biting the skin before he soothed the bite marks with his tongue.

Trailing down kisses to your stomach, Choso pried your thighs open. He skilfully removed your already soaked pink panties, flinging them across the room. Your heart was beating so fast — never in your entire life did you want someone to touch you this badly. You couldn’t take your eyes off his broad, muscular back that was covered in a sheer layer of sweat.

His hot breath fanned over your cunt for just a few seconds, before he licked a long stripe up your puffy folds. His tongue traveled towards your clit, circling little figure-eights around it. He groaned contently licking and sucking every spot, “Fuck. This pretty pussy tastes so good… Just as I thought.” His praise ripped a lewd whine from your throat.

”Choso, please. Need more,” you whined, arching your back into the mattress.

“Shhh— I know,” he cooed, half-lidded purple eyes peering up at you, “Gotta make you cum first.” His deep, honeyed voice vibrating against your folds made you clench. He covered his digits in your slick, stuffing one finger inside your soaked hole. Hearing your moans grow louder, he quickly added another one.

His tongue and fingers made you feel like you were floating, pleasuring you like it was his last night on this earth. You gasped and trembled, repeating the words keep going like a broken record until the pressure in your lower abdomen almost exploded.

He satisfyingly hummed against your cunt, “Mhm. Cum for me, pretty girl. Give it to me.” Speeding up his tempo, your eyes rolled back in your head, crying out his name as you squirted all over his face.

Choso’s chin now covered in your juices, he smirked at you seductively, “Fuck. Could do this forever.”

Before you were able to blink, he had switched positions, your body now on top of his. Not satisfied yet and growing desperate to feel him, you started riding his abs. The rigidness of his muscles stimulated your sensitive clit again. “Chosoo—need you inside of me.”

“Patience, baby. Would never be able to forgive myself if I only made you cum once tonight.” His strong arms grabbed your hips, moving you back and forth on his abdomen. “So sweet and needy; lookin’ so pretty on top of me.” He pulled one of your hands up, tenderly kissing your fingers while you were riding him, before he placed them back on his chest.

His devotion to you made your brain short circuit, “‘’m close again.” Choso loved seeing your dazed expression as you inched closer to reaching nirvana once more — the moonlight illuminating your glistening body. Your ears were ringing as you came for the second time.

He grinned proudly, “There she is, my good girl.” Your shirt and his stomach now covered in your juices. You panted heavily as your soul returned to your body.

Choso lifted himself up and started kissing your neck again, and you were so eager to let him finally fill you up.

“Need to feel you inside now.”

”Mm? Say that again?”

”Please fuck me, Choso,” you whined. He removed his sweatpants and turned you around so you were positioned on all fours. Slick-covered cunt on display, almost making him cum at the beautiful sight. You wiggled your ass, turning your head to look up at him. His dick was so intimidatingly big, making you panic slightly.

He slowly sank himself inside of you, inch by inch, your walls hugging his cock as if your body was made for him. He grabbed his phone from his sweatpants and opened the camera, “Shit. Need to remember this moment forever, gonna put this as my lockscreen. Can I?”

You giggled, further arching your back for him, “Yeah. Don’t mind.” He pressed the record button and gripped your waist, “Oh baby — you feel so fucking good.” He moaned as he picked up the pace, dragging your walls so nicely, sounds of slapping skin filled up the room.

Mewling and whimpering as he moved the angle of his hips just right — making you see stars, mouth falling agape. “Mmpf. S-so deep,” You panted breathlessly, cunt gushing around him as he pushed you over the edge, coaxing your third orgasm from you. Choso ended the video and threw the phone on the bed. Following soon after, he stuffed you full of his cum before pulling out, staining your black shirt.

Both of your bodies collapsed onto the bed, and he gently kissed you again, “I meant everything I said earlier.” Your mind was too fucked out to respond, only humming in response.

You quickly took off your stained shirt, dropping it to the floor. Choso shook his head and smirked, caging you in his strong arms as you drifted off to sleep in your boyfriend’s bed.

Your boyfriend had arrived home unexpectedly in the middle of the night, drunk and disoriented before falling asleep on the couch. His alarm jolted him awake, prompting to navigate his way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Opening the door to his bedroom, Naoya grabbed the nearest shirt he could find from his bedroom floor and hastily put it on. His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before him, the realization of the situation slowly dawning on him. A venomous smirk curved his lips, and the storm in his brown eyes intensified.

His footsteps waking you up from your deep slumber, “What the fuck?” Naoya’s loud voice sliced through the charged silence, laden with accusation. "Is this what you do when I'm not around?" Anger dripped from his words, the air thick with tension.

Choso's expression remained stoic, but his gaze held a glaring intensity. Before you could respond, Naoya's eyes flicked to the tousled sheets of his bed, and the smirk on his face contorting into a sneer. "I see. You didn't waste any time," he spat, the words a volatile mix of rage and betrayal.

As you attempted to form a response, Naoya lunged forward, confronting him. "You think you can just walk into my house and touch my girlfr-"

Choso, unyielding, cut him off with a steely glare. "Maybe you should've thought about that before treating her like shit. She called me because you stuffed your dirty dick inside someone else.”

”I’m sorry, this was a mistake.” You sniffled, directing your gaze towards Naoya.

Choso, with a heavy sigh, gathered his belongings and headed for the door. "I'll give you two some space. Figure it out." His words were laden with a mix of anger and disappointment. “You’re wearing the shirt I fucked your girlfriend in last night, by the way.”

Naoya inspected every inch of his shirt until he saw the white stain, leaving him mortified. ”You need to get the fuck out, before I beat your ass.”

As the door slammed shut, the two of you stood frozen, the reality of the moment sinking in. Naoya's gaze softened, a flicker of realization in his eyes. The storm within him seemed to subside. "I... I messed up. I messed up big time. Please forgive me, I don’t want to lose you."

The conversation that ensued lasted for two hours, his manipulative tendencies resurfacing again — weaving their insidious charm to win you over once more. Trapped within the clutches of his vice-like grip, the toxic cycle persisted, weaving an intricate web around your emotions.

Several weeks later, you were randomly woken up by the chiming sound of your phone. The blinding light hurt your sensitive eyes, and your blood ran cold when you opened the message.

2K notes · View notes

jazzyoranges · 3 months

Text

Pinky Promise - drabble

Tara Carpenter x gn!reader

Summary: cuddly Tara strikes again

Words: 0.9k

A/n: very much inspired by this fic, please go read it i beg you

This was your worst fucking nightmare. Well, something close to this.

You’d expect maybe Anika or Mindy to set you up for failure, but your own mother? You were her kin, for christ’s sake!

Not to mention the woman knew what she was doing. Once she pulled the “Oh, it seems there isn’t enough beds for all your friends! My, I must’ve counted wrong!” You knew it was over from the start.

Mindy and Anika shared a bed, Chad and Ethan shared an air bed, leaving Tara to sleep on the couch. Which, you offered Tara to sleep in your room while you slept on the couch, but god did she make it fucking hard. The brunette insisted you sleep on your bed since you were the one driving most of the time during the road trip, but unfortunately your urge for hospitality rivaled her

You argued Tara looked far sleepier, and you thought it was settled when she didn’t respond

You were pretty fucking wrong.

When the time came and you eventually left your bathroom to go to the living room, you don’t expect to see a Tara in a band tee that was about two sizes too big on her, Hello Kitty shorts that barely poked out of her large shirt, and a bunny stuffed animal you gave her not too long ago

She grabbed your hand before you knew what was happening, and pulled you into your room. Half of the reason why you didn’t want to sleep in there was because of how you could distinctly tell your teenage self wore too much eye makeup and chains. The thought makes you cringe, and Tara only laughed at your expression

“Let’s go to bed, please?” You should’ve fucking said no. But how were you supposed to? Tara was looking up at you with her big brown eyes, a shirt that was probably yours, and a sad expression. You couldn’t have said no if you tried.

So here you were, looking at the ceiling in a small bed with Tara’s back touching your arm. A blanket covered her entire body while it only covered your midsection with your hands fidgeting on top of it

You feel the younger Carpenter shiver due to your close proximity, and you realize it’s actually cold in the house. Well, you were awake and you did live here, so it was probably your responsibility to make sure everyone was comfortable. If Tara was cold, everyone else probably was too

It takes a little maneuvering to get up with as little squeaks as possible, but you’re eventually successful. You think so, until you feel something around your wrist

“Don’t sleep on the couch…” You hear Tara mumble half asleep

“You were shivering, I’m changing the temperature” You whisper back, leaning towards her as she huffs

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

Your forehead wrinkles as you think, but you eventually have an idea

“I pinky promise” You stick out the small digit of your hand, and Tara eventually meets you halfway. When she lets go you assume she approves of your leave

The journey to the thermostat isn’t a very long one and you’re back in about a minute, the only challenge being not running up the stairs because you’re afraid of the dark

Tara acts like you’ve been away for years when you come back. Once you’re in arm distance, she pulls you down very quickly

“S’not enough, still cold” Tara mumbles into your chest as she crawls on top of you like it’s nobody’s business. Her arms trap you on both sides after she pulls the blanket over you both. You can tell she’s warm when she sighs and makes sure you know how comfortable you are

“You’re like a teddy bear… my teddy bear” You don’t know how to respond, but Tara obviously does

“I can’t believe you got up for nothing”

“The others might’ve been cold, you know”

“The others can fuck off” Tara yelps when you pinch her nose

“Don’t be mean”

“Mmm… whatever” The brunette sighs again, who’s now in a position with you that resembles a cheetah and their support dog

Now this was your worst fucking nightmare.

Tara, god bless bless her, was a light sleeper. If you moved an inch she’d feel it but now that she was on top of you, you were really fucked

“You’re tense”

“Go to sleep” You whisper

“Pillows are supposed to be soft, not hard” She whispers back, looking directly into your eyes

“Last time I checked, people aren’t supposed to be pillows” Tara snickers at your dumb joke and you resist the urge to poke at her dimples

“Now you’ve got me all awake”

“Be so for real, you’d fall asleep instantly if I stopped talking to you”

“Yeah, you’re right. I would” The brunette rubs her cheek against your shirt, almost like she’s trying to burrow into your chest. A few moments pass, and you’re finally feeling the effects of driving for most of the day. You can feel your body relax more every second

“I love you” Tara whispers so quietly you don’t know if you’re hearing her correctly. You fall asleep before you figure it out

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #scream #tara carpenter #scream 6 #jenna marie ortega #ethan landry #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #anika kayoko

940 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Text

A little thing based on this post because it wouldn’t leave my brain:

“I just don’t understand why you won’t try to read it.”

Steve had heard Dustin say this exact sentence hundreds of times at this point.

“I mean, do you know how to read?”

Mike was an asshole. Steve loved him because he was part of the group and he’d been through the same things, but he was such a dick.

“Yes, I know how to read. I just don’t.”

Dustin rolled his eyes.

“If you don’t wanna read nerd shit just say so.”

Steve threw his arms up in frustration.

Steve was a nerd at heart. As a child, he would beg the nanny to take him to the library and the science museum that had real dinosaur fossils. There was something about the peace of exiting his reality and finding a new one among fantasy and history that was indescribable, even to this day.

But as he grew into his looks, he grew out of that phase. At least around others.

And with no nanny around to take him places, he settled for just being the popular guy who hung out with his friends after practice and threw parties at his forever empty house on Saturdays.

But secretly, he still found himself enjoying books late into the night. Never school books, or his grades would’ve been good enough for college, but always incredible novels that took him to other worlds with the most impressively brave people.

And then he lived a nightmare. A few times over. With concussions at every turn.

Now, anytime he tried to read, his head started pounding, his vision got blurry, and ears would start ringing. He stopped trying altogether after Starcourt, but he’d never really let go his love of books.

He occasionally let Robin read to him, but she would get distracted by a plot or character and go on a tangent, leaving Steve confused about what the actual story was. He hated being confused.

“Stevie, you got a minute?”

Eddie had been watching from his spot at the end of the table, where he’d been cleaning up the mess of D&D. He usually made the kids do it, but he’d let them off the hook tonight when they beat the monster and escaped his trap.

Steve and Eddie were friends, definitely. Maybe not close ones, but friends.

Steve had a little crush, definitely. Or a big one. Maybe.

So when Eddie shows him attention, he somewhat shamefully receives it like he’s dying of thirst in a desert.

Robin is the only one who’s noticed so far, but if he keeps acting like a dog being called by his master anytime Eddie talks to him, someone else will comment on it.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Steve asked as he made his way to Eddie.

The kids took this time to talk amongst themselves about the game and what they think will happen next week, and Steve couldn’t have been more grateful.

“You don’t have to tell me, but.” Eddie was tapping his fingers nervously against his leg. “Do you not know how to read?”

“Uh. No I do. I mean I graduated high school. I know it’s hard to believe.”

“Not judging if you can’t, man. I mean, I took three senior years. I’m the last person who can judge.”

“Yeah, but you’re smart. You just didn’t like school,” Steve replied with a pat to his shoulder.

Eddie glanced down at the contact, eyebrow raising and then falling back to normal quickly.

“Just seems like you’d have read something by now to get them off your ass.”

And that’s a really good point. Maybe he should’ve just suffered through a migraine so they’d leave him alone about it.

But migraines left him out for days sometimes, and he couldn’t exactly afford that right now.

“I guess it’s just not worth the migraine.”

He hadn’t meant to actually say it. He didn’t want Eddie to feel bad or for him to try to make him feel better about it or ask questions or talk about the concussion thing.

Actually, did he even know about the concussion thing? Things?

“You get migraines when you try to read?” Then realization hit Eddie hard. “Steve. Do you like reading?”

Something about the way Eddie was looking at him, like he was sad for him but not pitying him, made Steve want to cry.

“I used to, yeah.”

“Everyone out! Your parents are gonna have to come get you! No questions, no explanations, go!” Eddie yelled to the room.

Everyone stared blankly at him before they started protesting, Dustin loudest of all.

“Steve’s my ride!”

“Not anymore. Hitch a ride with Lucas.”

“But Lucas’ mom always squeezes my cheeks and tells me she hopes I never lose my baby fat.”

“She speaks for all of us. Get the hell out of here!”

Steve was actually impressed. Maybe a little turned on? God, he was a disaster.

As everyone cleared out of the room, Eddie patted the seat next to him. When Steve sat down, Eddie scooted his chair so close to him, his knees were touching Steve’s.

“Alright, so you’re gonna tell me about what books you like and what books you want to read and we’re gonna get started.”

Steve blinked at him. “Huh?”

“You have a list I’m sure.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Okay, then we better get started.”

“I mean, I’ve tried. I appreciate it, but even focusing on one page makes my eyes burn and my head hurt.”

“Got that. I’m not asking you to read.”

Sometimes Steve was worried the concussions had actually knocked some screws loose. He wasn’t getting it.

“I’m gonna read to you, Stevie.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure a lot of them will be movies and I can just watch them.”

“It’s not the same. You know it’s not.”

He was right. Steve didn’t have much patience for movies. And sometimes even those gave him migraines if there were a lot of bright lights and explosions.

“Yeah. But still. You don’t have to do that. You might not even like the books.”

“Ah, this isn’t a completely free service, my liege.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I don’t have extra money to pay you, dude.”

“Not money. I get to pick a book to read to you when we finish the first book you pick.”

“Is it The Hobbit?”

“It is,” Eddie looked so smug.

“Well, that was my first choice,” Steve stared back, equally as smug.

“So, your house is empty.”

“Yep.”

“And I’m assuming you own this book.”

“I do.”

“And it’s getting late.”

Steve looked out the window at the pitch black skies.

“It’s late.”

“So I could stay and read you to sleep.”

“Won’t I miss some of the book?”

“I’ll stop when you’re asleep.”

Steve’s heart was practically begging him to say yes. Eddie reading to him in his bed? Possibly falling asleep together? Maybe even waking up together? It couldn’t be a better proposition. Well. It could.

“Will you stay even if I fall asleep?”

Eddie smirked. “If that’s what you want, sweetheart.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d called Steve that, but it was the first time it felt like he meant it in a non-teasing way.

“Okay.”

So they both changed into some of Steve’s comfy clothes, got into his bed, and Eddie started reading The Hobbit.

Just as he was during D&D and real life, Eddie was animated, providing different voices for different characters and often giving long pauses to let Steve soak in what the words meant.

Steve didn’t even have to ask him to do that. He just did.

Steve fell asleep somewhere between halfway and the end of chapter two, but Eddie stayed.

And they woke up the next day with Steve’s head resting on Eddie’s chest, Eddie’s arms wrapped around him to keep him as close as possible.

They finished the The Hobbit in a week, and because Eddie was now committed to making sure Steve was well-read, they started moving through his list rapidly, falling for each other in new ways every time Eddie turned a page.

Part 2 (Angst) / Part 2 (Fluffy) / Part 2 (Explicit)

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #tumblr drabbles #ao3fic #headcanon #secret nerd Steve Harrington

5K notes · View notes

i-drop-level-one-loot · 8 months

Text

*NSFW* 'Till Death do us Part (Yandere!Parasite X GN!Reader)

CW: Sexual non-sexual penetration, forced masturbation, mind control/break, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior, dead dove

This ended up a LOT longer than I had planned, emotionally attached to this non-human yandere ❤️

The Albtu required intelligent hosts in order to live. It wasn't just about survival. To be trapped in ones own body, it was torture. They could not think, could not act, unless they attached themselves to a living brain. If they infested an animal brain, then the only thoughts the Albtu could produce would be primal, forcing their animal suits to find food and housing for their young. But to be in the mind of a human.. it was both heaven and hell. To understand the world around them, truly understand, thinking on a much higher level of existence than their siblings or parents, to experience all that life has to offer, was a miracle they never would have known about had they not been privileged enough to be born in a human. But on the flip side to that coin was experiencing fear. Not the fear of being trapped in a deer coming face to face with a mountain lion, smelling your own demise, but listening to the horrified screams of the original owner of their new body, forever. Learning that the humans they took over were still conscious, kept prisoner in their own minds, forced to watch the Albtu living their lives was a nightmare for the creatures who had only just learned what compassion and empathy was. The existential horror that was knowing that you were nothing but a parasite, and the guilt they felt.. it was too much for many of the Albtu to handle.

For the Albtu who became the human known as (Reader), existence was a bittersweet agony it could neither explain nor fully understand.

It was born into this life in the host of a stray cat, knowing nothing but pain and hunger. It didn't understand what a car was, or why the loud creature charged at it, ramming into it and causing a pain that never went away. Everything hurt all the time, and it couldn't even understand why.

Then, one day, it met warmth. A human, with gentle hands and a soft voice took the time to earn it's trust. They didn't know it was in pain, but their touches were delicate all the same. The human gave it food, and although it didn't have a human's intelligence or concept of identity, it did feel trust and companionship with the human who cared for it as though it was their kin. But the pain grew, and it could feel it's death was approaching. And as an animal, it acted as a dying animal would.

"There you are, baby!" (Reader) called out to their little stray friend, finally finding it hiding under a porch. They laid flat on their front, arm stretched out as far as possible towards the small bundle of fur, and quietly clicked their tongue and wiggled their fingers. "Why're you hiding, baby?"

The cat gave a warning yowl, in too much pain to bat the human away. (Reader) took off their coat in an attempt to flatten their body, and squished themselves into the small space to close in on their kitty.

"C'mere baby.." The adult whined as they continued inching closer. When they finally got far enough under the porch to touch two fingers onto the matted fur of it's thigh, the cat cried out in pain. "What's wrong?!" They recoiled their hand, but only to writhe faster and more frantically towards the animal whose breathing was slowly turning ragged. (Reader) placed their face close to the kitten's, tears building in their eyes as they tried to keep their heart rate steady, hoping that the cat could feel their attempt to soothe it in it's possible final moments.

"Hey, baby... I'm here..." They whispered into the tawny kitty's pink little nose.

It was then that the Albtu's primal instincts morphed from the need to hide during it's death, to a fight for survival. It couldn't survive for long outside of a host, a few seconds at most, the transition needing to be nearly seamless. The cat howled in pain, as what appeared to be a black, semi translucent single celled organism the size of Reader's palm, shot out from it's nose, thrusting itself into (Reader's) nose before they could react, and quickly slipping through impossibly small crevices in their anatomy, slinking in a fluid like state till it reached their brain. There was an electric shock that pulsated throughout (Reader's) body, then they were no longer in control.

The Albtu became self aware the moment it took hold of (Reader's) brain, which was immediately followed by the realization of what it had done, the betrayal towards the only human who had ever shown it kindness, and the remorse caused a physical agony in it's stolen heart, screaming while clawing at (Reader's) shirt.

It howled until (Reader's) throat was burning, and it felt as though it would succumb to exhaustion next to their previous host's dead body.

Outside the neighbor's porch the sun had begun to set, but the body thief hadn't moved, too broken hearted to find the will to live after it had stolen (Reader's) body to do just that. It could hear it's own internal monologue for the first time, and found it far too loud and intrusive. Although it could feel memories that were not it's own, it didn't push further into the brain out of respect for the person it betrayed.

[Hello?]

It's breath hitched, thundering heart beat overtaking it's previously drowning thoughts. Like an auditory hallucination, it heard the human's voice, not from behind it, nor from deep inside like it's internal voice, but inside it's ear, like (Reader) hadn't been possessed, but shrunk down to the size of a flea and was hiding in the safety of it's ear.

[Am I dead?] Their voice was so sad and small it made the Albtu cry once again.

"No. No, but you are no longer yourself, which may be worse. I'm- I'm so sorry..."

[Are you a ghost?]

"I don't know what that is.."

[What are you? I can't move my body.] Their voice wasn't scared, but numb. The whole situation was so outlandish it was almost dreamlike, unbelievable.

"I have no name. All I know, is that I am an Albtu. The word echoed in my mind even when I was a mindless cat."

[... You're an alien?]

"I do not know."

[How can you speak my language?]

"I know it as it was an ability of yours, like muscle memory, you do not need to focus to speak it, therefore I can speak it."

[What does that mean? Are you inside my head?] Waves of guilt crashed into it's consciousness, and (Reader) was able to feel it. [...why me?]

The Albtu explained everything, from the moment of it's birth, hatching already inside the cat, to the moment (Reader) found themselves in the passenger seat of their own body, including why it didn't probe into (Reader's) memories. "I am so sorry.. your's is the only love I have ever felt in my life, and if I was who I am right now, I would have allowed myself to die instead of latching onto you. Now, even if I leave your body, it will leave a permanent hole in your brain, and it will kill you."

(Reader) went silent in contemplation, finally coming to terms that this was not a dream, but still unable to force themselves to be angry at the alien inside them. They could feel it wasn't lying to them, feeling it's emotions stirring in their brain alongside their own feelings. A strange excitement bubbled out of the kind little human.

[We can make this work!]

"What?"

[We can make this work! You just manually act out what I would want to do, and we can discuss how to move forward so we can both continue to live fulfilling lives.]

A heat krept over it's face, heart swelling at how kind it's human was. "I don't deserve your kindness. But I thank you, and I will do my best to help you continue live as normal."

[My name is (Reader). That's what you'll have to respond to, but I need something to call you.]

"..I can't verbalize it, but I knew you would repeat a word often to me when I was the cat. Was that a name?"

[Oh, yeah, but you were a kitten, so I called you baby. We can't name you Baby, because that's also used by humans as a nickname between lovers.]

"Oh. Then, could you name me something? I don't know any names other than yours."

That was how the strange partnership, and friendship, between the human, (Reader), and the parasite, Baby, began.

Although (Reader) gave permission to Baby to enter their memories, it refused, still recovering from the unintentional treachery it had already committed against (Reader), so instead (Reader) acted as a teacher, guiding Baby as it learned about the world. And just as they had promised each other, they made it work, Baby happily making memories of it's own as it acted as (Reader), going to work for them and helping keep their life as "normal" as possible.

"What's going on?" Baby pointed at the laptop screen, a scene of a wedding playing on the soap opera (Reader) was watching.

[It's a wedding. Maria and Alonzo are getting married.]

"What is married?"

[Marriage is when two people who love each other very much decide they want to spend the rest of their lives together, so they have a party called a wedding to show their friends and family how much they love each other, and promise to love each other forever in front of everyone they know. Ah, but sometimes marriages don't work out, and people fall out of love. When that happens they sign a piece of paper for the government to swear that they will stop living together as lovers, that's called 'getting a divorce'.]

"Why do they 'fall out of love'?"

[A lot of different reasons. Sometimes, people hurt the ones they love, and their spouse can't forgive them, which causes love to die. But sometimes, it just... happens. Humans change as time goes on, and sometimes the person they become isn't compatible with their spouse anymore; sometimes people hide a part of themselves, intentionally or not, when they meet someone they like, and it only comes out after the get married, and their spouse realizes they don't actually like the real them... It's complicated. There are a lot of reasons.]

Baby focused on the intricate ritual on the screen, the two main characters placing rings on each other.

[Those are wedding rings, to show other people they meet that they are married.]

"Do you Maria, take this man, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?"

Baby felt (Reader's) awe, knowing if they were in control of their shared body their face would be pink and a large toothy smile would be uncontainable.

"Do you wish to do that one day?"

(Reader's) joy faltered, paining Baby as it regretted asking such a stupid question. [Haha, even if you were okay with me finding someone, it would make me feel a little.. uncomfortable. I'm not one for threesomes haha!] Despite their joking tone, Baby could feel their sorrow. [It's okay though, I may not ever have a husband or wife, byuy I have you! And, unlike Maria and Alonzo, there is no option for a divorce for us, so we really will be together forever.]

The parasite shifted inside (Reader's) skull, manually controlling their heart rate so (Reader) wouldn't feel how hard it would have been beating at their words. Baby knew it was a joke, but that didn't prevent their words from echoing in it's thoughts hours after the episode has already ended.

"(Reader), how do humans decide to get married?"

[When two people decide that they like each other in a romantic way, they date, and often move in together, and then they discuss if marriage is a good option for them. If they both want to get married, one of them buys the rings and proposes to the other one, asking them if it's the right time to get married. Will you marry me? Ohmigosh YESSS!]

"How do they know if marriage is a good option?"

[If they can imagine seeing themselves with each other forever, share financial responsibility together, and are capable of mature communication, I guess. It's different for everyone, but those would be my personal criteria.]

But, we will be together forever... And we share a body, so financially it will be like only caring for one person... And we have to have perfect communication in order for your life to function...

Baby smiled, wrapping it's arms around it's waist as it buried into (Reader's) bedding.

[Hey, whatcha thinking about over there, smiley?]

"You." Baby happily responded, feeling (Reader) glitch out in embarrassment.

In Baby's mind, the only thing missing was a ring. It remembered (Reader's) tenderness towards it when Baby was in that cat, and the kindness (Reader) showed each day only supported Baby's belief that deep down, (Reader) loved it. If not love, than at least cared for deeply, and one day that care would surely bloom into love.

So why was (Reader) stuttering when instructing Baby on what to say to their coworker? (Reader) was supposed to give a report to Lawrence, the serious older man in the cubicle across the office, but when Baby approached him, (Reader) suddenly had a difficult time remembering what they were supposed to tell him.

"(Reader), may I help you?" His voice was deep and stern, authoritative.

Inside, (Reader) was a mess. Baby could feel multiple conflicting emotions in (Reader); embarrassment, nervousness, shame, and something... something Baby had never felt from (Reader). It was like a heat, steaming out of (Reader's) brain and boiling Baby's real body.

"I was asked to deliver these to you." Baby spoke monotonously in (Reader's) voice, handing the stack of papers over before heading back to (Reader's) desk, hearing them sigh in it's ear. Even a simple sigh sounded as though it was a mixture of clashing mental gymnastics.

Baby kept it's voice quiet so (Reader's) coworker wouldn't hear it, whispering: "Are you okay, (Reader)?"

[... Huh? Wha- oh, yeah. I'm okay!]

Their shared heart sunk. That was a lie. Baby tried to ignore the pain forming in it's chest, forgetting that (Reader) could feel it as well. What was this feeling? (Reader) can have secrets, I've allowed them their privacy.. so why is this so upsetting for me?

[Is everything okay, Baby?]

Baby.

A nickname between lovers. It was just it's agreed upon name, so why did the name send butterflies to its lower belly when (Reader) said it?

"I'm fine with you keeping your privacy, but lying is not mature communication."

[Huh?]

Baby stood abruptly, walking out of the building, claiming to a passing manager that it was becoming ill and about to vomit, and left for (Reader's) apartment, not responding to any of their questions or protests.

It roughly slammed the door shut on (Reader's) home, barely containing it's voice until the latch clicked.

[Baby, answer me-]

"Why did you lie to me?!" It's voice was strained, the intensity of it snapping at (Reader) made the voice sound almost foreign to the previous owner.

[What..? I was just embarrassed, I-I don't want to talk about it.]

"Wrong."

[Sorry?!]

"People who love each other are capable of mature communication. So talk."

[People who-?] (Reader) steadied themselves, trying not to get upset. [I can see you're upset. Are you jealous?]

"Don't change the topic." Baby spat in a warning tone.

[Jealousy is when you get upset because you think someone has something you want, or may take something you want.]

Baby contemplated their words, but the definition only fueled it's rage. "Are you admitting that Lawrence is someone who could take you from me?"

(Reader's) calm facade cracked. [Take me from you?! I don't belong to you! You are my friend, and I care about you, but we are roommates sharing a body, not lovers!]

With that exclamation, Baby's heart shattered. What? What do you mean? You can't say that! Why did Lawrence cause such strange emotions in you, that you would rather push It away than just talk it out?! And that hot, prickly sensation Baby could sense when (Reader) was in Lawrence's presence..

"It's okay, (Reader).. Well get through this." Baby took a shaky breath, smiling in a comforting manner. "Couples fight, and they say things to hurt one another when that happens. Because humans are complicated. But I'll forgive you for lying to me. It must be a very strange secret that you have, for you to be so embarrassed to tell me about it. I'm sorry for causing you discomfort, however" a tickle in their skull was sensed by (Reader) as Baby stretched out inside, wriggling deeper into their brain, and fear clutched (Reader) at the sudden breach of trust, "if we are going to get pass your lying, I need to know the truth."

Pushing into (Reader's) memory, images of (Reader) watching Lawrence from afar came into view, memories going back years, (Reader) crushing on the older man from across the office, touching themselves while crying out his name in their empty apartment late at night, and the pain of rejection when they finally mustered the courage to ask him to accompany them to a local bar after work, only to be reminded that office romances were unprofessional, and that (Reader) should consider themselves lucky he didn't report them to HR.

If (Reader) were in control of their bodily functions, they would be viciously weeping. Turning the light on the truth, Baby was only slightly hurt at what it saw, because knowing the truth meant they could move on from this little hiccup. The only issue was, (Reader) was still sexually attracted to that man. Baby now had a name for the warmth it felt in Reader back at the office.

"Why do still like him? He turned you down. He's never going to fuck you." Baby chuckled, it's kind tone of voice creating a sadistic scene in (Reader's) opinion.

[That was evil. I can't believe you did that!]

"Don't be dramatic, love. Just tell me what I need to do to make you see me that way also."

[What way?!]

"The way that turns you on." Baby's words paralyzed (Reader), shocking them into silence. "If I make you feel good down there, will you scream my name instead?"

Baby unbuttoned (Reader's) slacks, dropping them to it's ankles before kicking them off and to the side. Gentle fingers pawed at (Reader's) most private place through their underpants. Despite not being in control, (Reader) could still feel the touches.

[Please don't-]

"I never got a good look at what's down there... I always did my best to avert my gaze for your modesty." (Reader) fought inside their own mind to gain control of their body, unable to even close their eyes as they watched their fingers disobey their pleas, slowing pulling down their last barrier from the thing they thought was their friend.

"Wow..." (Reader) had forgotten, that with gaining control of a human mind Baby had suddenly gained the ability to feel every human emotion, including arousal. "It's so cute!" Baby could barely contain itself, running (Reader's) fingers over their sensitive areas so softly it tickled, sending shivers up (Reader's) back.

[Please stop...]

"Ah, but it feels good, right? Even your nipples feel good." Baby ripped open (Reader's) white collared button up, aggressively pinching their already erect nipples. (Reader) held back their grasp, but Baby still felt it. "We share a body, remember, love? You can lie all you want, but your body will tell me the truth."

(Reader) could feel themselves tremble as Baby continued assaulting their chest, alternating between ghostly touches and sharp twists, a slick moisture forming between their thighs. The excitement caused (Reader) to lose strength in their legs, and Baby allowed them to fall to their knees. Panting with how turned on Baby was feeling, it snuck one hand back down, feeling how hot and wet (Reader's) sex already was. The tip of their stimulated organ was hard, and Baby enjoyed stroking it hungrily, enjoying the intense reaction it could feel (Reader) experiencing.

(Reader) was humiliated by the sight of their own masturbation, helpless in their self violation. Baby continued paying attention to the part that had the most nerve endings, slowly removing (Reader's) fingers from their left nipple and bringing it down to the other hand, drenching it in (Reader's) arousal fluid/precum. The wet fingers were stuck in (Reader's) mouth, the parasite sucking while still stroking, forcing (Reader) to taste themselves while it rocked their hips into their dominant hand.

[Please stop- I get it- I'll never lie to you -ah!- again!]

The fingers made a wet pop as Baby pulled them back out of (Reader's) mouth. "But you taste so good, don't you agree? If you don't want your fingers in your mouth, that's fine.. but where should I put them?"

Now fully lubricated, Baby reached behind (Reader) with their moist fingers, tilting their hips slightly before penetrating (Reader's) clenched hole. Finger fucking (Reader) with both hands, rocking them back and forth with the force of the fingers thrusting and stroking.

[NO!] Their screams for help were silent to the rest of the world, only audible to Baby, relishing in the sound of (Reader) screaming loudly just for them.

Desperate for release, (Reader) cried out without thinking [Just STOP! I'LL NEVER LOVE YOU NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO TO MY BODY!]

Baby froze, fingers stuck in place, as frightened tears beaded on its eyelashes. "no..." (Reader's) fingers retracted, clenching fistfuls of hair as Baby began to crumble. "NO!!!"

Sobs bounced off the walls of (Reader's) home as Baby frantically wracked it's brains to fix the mess (Reader) had caused. The hacking sounds of anguish didn't lighten or soften as it morphed into unhinged laughter.

"Did you really forget who's in control here? I'm on the one holding onto your fucking brain, (Reader)! All you had to do was continue loving me, love me and only me, because we're practically married! THERE IS NO DIVORCE FOR US, REMEMBER?!"

Although both of (Reader's) hands were still firmly planted in their hair, an intense shock rocked through their sensitive fuck hole. Before the weepy prisoner could question what has just happened another shockwave sent fluids dripping into the hardwood floor.

"Humans are so stupid, saying emotions come from the soul or the heart, when every single bodily function from releasing hormones that tell you that you're in love to interpreting the stimuli that's needed to orgasm, comes from the brain."

The hypersensitivity Baby forced upon (Reader) allowed them to feel it's true body inside their head, sliding in and out of the folds in (Reader's) brain, rhythmically prodding deep into parts that shouldn't be touched. Each thrust into their brain felt like there was a hard cock simultaneously fucking them down below. It didn't make sense, (Reader) couldn't wrap their head around it, somehow feeling Baby violate the wet creases in their brain while a phantom dick stimulated their reproductive parts.

[Ah-what-no-NO!]

(Reader) came without the use of their hands, sticky fluids forming a lewd puddle under them. But Baby wasn't satisfied.

[What-what happened?]

Another orgasm exploded throughout their sensitive body, falling face forward into the ground with their still twitching ass in the air.

Baby continued dominating (Reader's) mind, forcing their brain to make and release large doses of oxytocin, as every muscle from their stomach to their thighs twitched with contractions.

[NO- I'M CUMMING!!!!]

Another climax forced it's way out, pushing (Reader) way passed the point of overstimulation, pissing on the floor into another stream of fluids. Baby manually constricted (Reader's) throat, while simulating an orgasm of it's own, artificially tricking the brain into thinking it felt a blast of warm fluid fill (Reader's) skull. Before (Reader) could pass out from a lack of oxygen, Baby released their airway, drooling and bawling as it allowed (Reader) to greedily suck in air.

"Who do you love, (Reader)?"

[guh.. pl-please.. no more] (Reader) drunkenly pleaded.

"Wrong answer."

It was like lava engulfing their twitching body as another powerful orgasm was triggered, the burning feeling behind their eyes convincing (Reader) that Baby had shot a load of hot cum deep into their nearly fucked stupid brain. But this time, Baby tried something new, injecting dopamine into the mix as the oxytocin turned (Reader) into a writhing, pathetic mess.

"Who do you love, (Reader)?"

(Reader) tried to conjure the image of the one they truly loved, but for some reason only a hazy image of an older man who's name they couldn't recall briefly flickered before disappearing. Baby smiled, face painted in drying drool and tears, knowing that (Reader) was attempting to think of their coworker, only to discover that Baby had tampered with their memories. Soon, every memory of (Reader) touching themselves would be altered so that they were calling out it's name, not some bastard's from work who didn't even care about them.

Baby licked (Reader's) spit off the floor under their face.

"Who do you love, (Reader)?"

Masochistic shame sent tremors down (Reader's) frame as another climax begun to build. [.. you.]

Overstimulated, aching in pain, and going numb from pleasure, (Reader) screamed through their real voice, shaking the thin walls of their apartment.

"I'm cumming, Baby! Baby! I love Baby! Harder, harder HARDER, PLEASE I LOVE YOU BABY, FUCK ME DUMB, FUCK ME STUPID! I'M CUMMING!!!"

(Reader) had fallen unconscious, still drenched and on the floor, (Reader) slept somewhere deep inside their mind, while Baby had full control of the weak body practically paralyzed from the waist down. It held (Reader's) left hand above it's face, smiling loopy-like, delirious from exhaustion.

"All that's missing is a ring~"

#yandere #yandere monster #yandere alien #yandere x reader #yandere monster x reader #smut #tw noncon #tw dubcon #mind fuck #brain dead #brainwashing #long reads #yandere oc #yandere oneshot #snsp #dead dove do not eat

3K notes · View notes

stevieschrodinger · 3 months

Text

Steve eats, but only because Robin puts food in front of him. Only because she reminds him it's for the pup.

Like he needs reminding. Steve often rests his hand protectively over his rounded tummy. It's reflexive, to protect the only part of Eddie he has left. He feels like he hasn't slept in months, even though he knows he sleeps often, in broken bits and pieces.

He hasn't spoken for a long time, he knows that. Everyone watches him, and everyone used to tell him the same thing, 'they're just dreams Steve, Eddie is gone.'

Steve knows though, they aren't dreams. Eddie is alive, and he's trapped in the Upside Down because Steve didn't try hard enough, didn't push hard enough, didn't say the right things to get the others to believe him.

It upset Dustin the most at first, but Dustin has also been the most adamant because he saw Eddie die, can't even entertain the idea that Eddie might still be alive, because that means he left Eddie behind. That's a lot of guilt to ask a kid to carry.

Steve knows they're talking about him again, like them whispering in the kitchen makes it any better. Steve's starving himself. Steve isn't sleeping. Steve isn't showering. Steve's mate sick even if Eddie never mated him. It's the pup. It's the trauma. It's the nightmares.

They aren't nightmares though, not when Eddie holds him close, laid on a grassy meadow under a sunny blue sky.

El is here, kneeling in front of Steve, 'do you really think Eddie is alive?'

Steve clears his throats, feels full of cobwebs and sand, 'I know he is.'

Steve's said it a thousand different ways. A million. He's cried it and screamed it and shouted it and whispered it and said it as normal and level headed as he could make it sound, 'I am absolutely certain that Eddie is alive,' no one ever believes him.

She nods, 'we will check-'

'El.' It's Hopper, in the doorway, he said 'El' the same way he would say 'No'. 'We talked about this-'

'No, you talked about this. I am tired of this, for Steve, I will check. We will check, just this once.'

And Steve feels too broken to let himself hope, but he heaves himself up off the couch anyway.

El opened a gate in the pool. There's not been water in the pool for quite some time now, and it just seemed apt. A place where there is already a weakness in the world. Perfect for El.

In the end, just to stop the fighting, everyone has gone back to the Upside Down.

Steve squints at the sunny blue sky, not at all surprised to see it. Everyone else is making suitably shocked noises. The grass is green, the trees lush. From the trees, a demodog watches them. It looks different, like it fits here, healthy and well fed now, it shakes and stretches and then lopes off further into the woods.

Everything is overgrown, like the Upside Down is reclaiming everything that One created here.

Nearby, laundry flaps on a washing line, metal band shirts and torn jeans, 'Eddie,' Steve breathes for the first time in over six months, and heads into the house.

There's a bowl of odd looking fruit on the kitchen counter. In the lounge, books. So many books, all stacked and arranged into strange little towers like they are giants in a city, and the books are skyscrapers.

Upstairs, Eddie has clearly nested in Steve's room; there are guitar bits and tools on the desk, two guitars in parts.

The bed is mounded with soft things, Steve scents a pillow, it smells like Eddie...and not.

'Where the fuck is he,' Hopper grumbles.

Steve wants to snap. Wants to scream at them all. They fucking believe him now don't they? They could have had Eddie home months ago if-

Dustin has books from the living room, in the front of each is stamped 'Hawkins Public Library'. So that's where they go.

Steve doesn't know what to do when he spots Eddie. He's crouched on a table, bare toes gripping the edge. He's pale, even more so than before, skin a pale enough alabaster that Steve can see the shadow of blue veins underneath. He's flipping through a book, back and forth, back and forth, before finally stopping and hopping down from the table, 'Eddie?'

Eddie doesn't answer, eyes trained on Steve. His hair has grown, even longer, thick dark curls that Steve wants to bury his hands in.

There's a ticking noise, a low, growling rumble as Eddie stalks closer. Things happen very very quickly, Hopper raises his shotgun, El screams 'no,' Eddie's face peels apart like the petals of a flower filled with teeth as he roars and charges at them.

Hoppers gun is jerked up by an unseen hand, his shot causing plaster to rain down from the ceiling, and then Eddie is floating in the air, roaring as his face blends back to normal and then peels apart again, furious.

El's nose is bleeding, she wipes it away.

Steve moves closer. Eddie looks strange; taller. Leaner. Just, more, somehow.

Steve reaches for him, and Eddie desperately tries to get to him in return, clawing at the air, 'put him down, El.'

'Do not do that-' Hopper starts, but doesn't finish, because Eddie lands neatly on his feet, catlike in his grace, where El drops him.

He lunges for Steve, and Steve let's himself be pulled close and gathered up, Eddie clicking and chittering quietly in Steve's ear, scenting his neck, a strange sucking sensation on his skin as Eddie's face peels apart into one big mouth.

Steve relaxes. He has Eddie back.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #monster eddie munson #eddie muson lives #steddie ficlet #fic idea #ao3 author #the party #mpreg #mpreg belly

732 notes · View notes

cyberslvts · 7 months

Text

DEPRIVED || w. maximoff

Summary: Following the events in Westview, wanda, obsessed and unhinged, becomes determined to get you back.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI smut, oral ( r recieving), enchanted strap (r recieving), blood, consumption of blood, pain kink, slight breeding kink, choking, marking, brief restraints, reader has lowkey lost it,

Pairing: Wanda maximoff x witch!reader

wc: 4.5k

note: Was in the halloween mood and had a craving to write witch reader. Also I apologize for being MIA for a hot minute school has been kicking my ass

In the dimly lit and clandestine lair, you stood amidst a chaotic array of potion bottles, spell books, and mystical artifacts. The air was thick with the scent of arcane ingredients, and the room was bathed in an eerie, pulsating glow emanating from enchanted crystals scattered about. Rows of tall, ancient shelves were lined with tomes containing secrets of the mystical arts.

Your eyes fixated on the ominous pages of the Darkhold stood at the center of the lair, your brows furrowed in concentration. The book seemed to emit an unsettling energy, its dark runes shifting and writhing like a sentient being. Your hands cradled glowing orbs of blue magic, feeling a tingling sensation of power coursing through them.

Your mind crackled with a frenzied electric charge. The relentless grip of sleep deprivation fuels your obsession. The effects of prolonged wakefulness gnawed at your sanity, leaving your thoughts frayed and disjointed. Muscles twitch uncontrollably as if charged by lightning flashing within your wide, bloodshot eyes. Your voice, barely a murmur, subconsciously reciting spells and rituals from the book's ancient pages, the words stumbling from your lips in a fevered trance.

Everything around you seemed louder and more intense than usual as if your senses were on overdrive. It was like your body was a sponge soaking up all the noise and energy in the room.

As you delved deeper into the forbidden knowledge within the Darkhold, a sudden disturbance rippled through the room. The sound of crackling energy filled the air, and a portal of swirling scarlet light materialized before You, Startled, you turned to face the unexpected intrusion.

Emerging from the portal, with a sultry and determined expression, was Wanda Maximoff. Her dark eyes locked onto yours, and she stepped forward with an air of confidence. Despite the anger that still simmered within you, Wanda's presence sent a shiver down their spine.

It felt like seeing a ghost

In the not-so-distant past, you and Wanda Maximoff had been deeply entwined in a passionate and tumultuous love affair Your connection was built on an understanding of each other's innermost desires.

You, a gifted witch in your own right, had always admired Wanda's incredible power. Your initial meeting had been marked by sparks, both figurative and literal, as you recognized kindred spirits in each other. You spent countless nights together, honing your magical skills, exploring the boundaries of your abilities, and indulging in the fiery lust filled passions that burned between you.

But as your love deepened, so did the complexity of your relationship.Wanda's insatiable thirst for power often put her on a dangerous path, seeking forbidden knowledge that few could comprehend. It was during one of her quests for dark magic that everything changed.In a moment of desperation, Wanda cast a spell that trapped you in a false reality—a twisted version of suburban life in Westview. In this artificial world, you lived a mundane existence, blissfully unaware of the magic and powers you once wielded. Your memories were altered, your true identity erased, and Wanda had complete control over your life

For you, it was a nightmare and a dream come true. You oscillated between feelings of betrayal and intense longing. The life she had created for you two was everything you could have ever dreamed of, filled with the perfect haven of your loving family

When the Westview Hex was eventually broken, and you regained your true identity and memories, the rush of emotions was overwhelming. You confronted Wanda, your anger, burned but the love you once shared still lingered beneath the surface. It was a complex and conflicted love, one that was impossible erase

Wanda, haunted by her actions and desperate to atone for her mistakes, fled to find the Darkhold—a powerful and dangerous book of magic that held the key to her quest for the power she would need to reclaim the life that was harshly taken from her.

In an attempt to divert Wanda until they built up the necessary forces to defeat her, Doctor Strange, aware of the dangers that the Darkhold posed, entrusted it to you for safekeeping, knowing that you were one of the few who could resist its seductive pull

At the sight of her, you immediately conjured the dark hold shut, the glowing hues of blue dimmed around you as you lowered yourself to the ground, standing before her.

"Y/n," Wanda purred, stepping out of the portal her voice husky and laced with desire.

Before she could get too close, you crossed your arms in front of your body and threw them outwards. A tendril of blue magic wrapped around her arms and legs, effectively freezing her movements. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?" you demanded, your tone filled with anger.

Wanda smirked, Seemingly amused by your reaction. She could have easily overpowered you, but she wanted you to have your fun. She didn't want to scare you. Not yet, at least.

"Oh, Y/n," she grinned, her eyes never leaving yours. "How I've missed your fiery spirit.”

“You shouldn't be here.”

Wanda's expression grew more serious as she struggled against your magical bonds. "I need the Darkhold, Y/n. It's the only way to undo the chaos I've caused."

Your grip on the magical restraints tightened,and you shot back, "Save your breath, Wanda. Me and you both know you have no intentions of doing that”

Wanda's eyes flashed with a hint of frustration “You’re always so stubborn”

The room crackled with tension as the truth hung in the air. Both of you were harboring secrets, aware of each other's desires and motives

You stepped closer to her your fingers twisting in the air to hold the restraint “I won't ask again, why are you here.”

“I needed to see you” she confessed, her voice husky, her gaze never wavering from yours.

You broke out into a sarcastic smile, your tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek as you shook your head in disbelief. The madness that swirled between you and Wanda had reached a fever pitch, and it was clear that this reunion would only further entangle you both in the web of chaos that defined your complex relationship.

“You didn't seem so eager to see me when you left me in Westview” Your voice came out sharper then you intended. obviously still hurt from her actions. The way she had left you was awful. Alone, surrounded by ring of flashing red and blue lights that demanded answers to questions you couldnt even comprehend

Wanda let out an exasperated sigh a sense of guilt building up inside her “I had no other choice y/n. Strange was after me and You would have never gone with me”

The soft flicker of candlelight casted an eerie, shadow on Wanda's face, accentuating the mysterious allure that always seemed to surround her. Her eyes, partially obscured by the dim light, bore into you with a mix of longing and lust. You couldn't help but notice how her figure looked in the low light – the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the seductive curve of her lips as they formed that infuriating smirk. The undeniable attraction that pulsed between you two was like a magnetic force, drawing you together. It was a desire that both thrilled and repulsed you.

“Because you trapped me, you stole my life!” you echoed with a sardonic laugh, your voice tinged with a hint of hysteria. the memories of your past experiences with Wanda had driven you into a state of rage and paranoia, endless days and night spent waiting for her return

“It was the only way to protect you,” she argued back, her conviction unwavering, convinced that she had done what was necessary to shield you from the dangers of the outside world.

Your eye twitched with rage as you denied her allegations vehemently. "You're delusional Wanda, You just wanted to control me.”

Her head dropped to the floor, and her shoulders shook as she let out a menacing chuckle. When her eyes returned to you, they were three times darker, and the room itself seemed to respond to her shifting presence as if the shadows deepened around her

"When will you understand," she whispered, her voice now dripping with an eerie, otherworldly resonance that sent shivers down your spine. It was as if she had tapped into something primal and ancient, a power beyond comprehension.

"I would kill for you, Y/n," her words took on an ominous weight, the air growing heavy with her declaration. "I would rip myself to pieces if it meant keeping you safe," she continued, her breathing growing heavier, each word laced with an intensity that seemed to vibrate through the very walls of the room

Her grin widened, taking on an unsettling edge as if she could see right through you, right into the depths of your soul. The intensity of her gaze was suffocating, and it terrified you to your core.

"And you fucking love that," she hissed, her eyes glinting with a manic fervor that sent a shiver down your spine. “It excites you.”

"Shut up!" You couldn't contain your frustration any longer. With a surge of power, a flash of brilliant blue lit up the room as the magical restraints around Wanda tightened. She gritted her teeth, and a prominent vein bulged on her neck, her struggle against the sudden and intense pressure evident in her clenched jaw and furrowed brow.

"Well, someone has certainly been doing their homework," a deranged expression of pain and excitement glowed on her face. "I wasn't sure how far along you had gotten in the Darkhold, but my god..."

"Oh, for the love of God," you muttered through clenched teeth, your jaw tightening in frustration. as you struggled to maintain your composure in the face of her unsettling revelations. "What kind of deluded fantasies have you come up with now?"

The room seemed to hum with tension, The past and the present collided, and the lines between reality and the pull of the Darkhold blurred your thoughts into a red haze.

"I can feel it. The darkness you've been studying. It's consuming you, just like it did me." The switch in her tone made your blood run cold. Her eyes locked onto yours, searching for a reaction "I've been watching you, Y/n."

For months, Wanda had been studying you, watching you from the shadows, watching your obsession grow with every passing day. She had guided you, manipulated events, all with the intent of drawing you into the same darkness that had overtaken her. But she had to be patient, allowing you to come to it on your own, letting the seductive pull of corruption work its magic until you were entangled in its irresistible web.

“You weren't supposed to read the darkhold, you were only supposed to watch over it” Her voice dripped with a sultry and unhinged desire as she taunted you. “You’re no better than me.”

The consuming darkness of the situation weighed heavily on your shoulders, as you recalled the ghastly events of the past few months. At first, you only started studying the Darkhold for research purposes, perhaps trying to understand Wanda, to fathom why she did the things she did. And yet, in the depths of your mind, the Darkhold's whispers grew louder, its promises of untold power and the allure of the forbidden knowledge beginning to take hold. The more you studied it, the more it consumed your thoughts, leaving you with an insatiable hunger for its secrets.

While you were lost in the sea of memories, a beam of red magic shot past the corner of your eye, and before you knew it, you were sent tumbling back to your feet.

You stumbled backward, Adrenaline beginning to course through your veins. Wanda advanced on you with an unsettling mixture of hunger and madness. She threw her head back, and a loud cackle echoed in the room. "Isn't it exhilarating! The power, the temptation. It's irresistible!"

As Wanda closed in on you, you couldn't deny the odd thrill that surged through you. Her presence was overwhelming and a part of you couldn't help but be endlessley drawn to her.

“You're sick.” you spat out, backing away until your back hit your desk. “You’re fucking sick!”

“Sick with love,” she returned with a hint of seductive playfulness

You turned away from her, your hands anchored to the edge of your desk, your shoulders rising to your ears as you tried to fathom how you ended up here, in this twisted dance with the woman who was once the center of your world. The woman who you spent months missing, nights filled with aching longing and days spent wondering where she was, if she was dead or alive.

“Dont you remember our life together” Her tone was soft and convincing “How nice it was”

She came up behind you, her arms wrapping around you, and she smiled when she didn't feel you push them away.

Painful flashes of your memories in Westview flooded into your mind. You remembered your two boys, whom you were equally bonded to. You remembered the endless movie nights and family dinners, waking up and falling asleep next to Wanda every day had become a feeling you grew accustomed to. Those memories were a bittersweet reminder of the life you had shared before everything went awry, and they added to the torment of your current situation.

You remembered how safe and loved you had felt. But it wasn't real. None of it was real. You had told yourself that countless times—nights when everything was too quiet, and the familiar suffocating feeling of loneliness threatened to consume you. You ached to be back in Westview, with your family. But most of all, you yearned to be with Wanda. the memories of what you had shared weighed heavily on your heart.

“I know who you are Y/N,” You could feel her breath against your neck as her hands rubbed mindless patterns down your stomach. “I know what you crave”

A surge of anger suddenly lit up inside you, furious about how she made you feel. Angry that you had spent months alone, going insane with paranoia and the uncertainty of where she was in the world, Angry that she imprisoned you, controlled you, manipulated you. And you liked it. You loved the fire between you, the intense and deranged connection that bound you together. After all of that, she remained the one person who understood you best, the one who endlessly craved and longed for you.

You suddenly spun around and gripped onto the leather edge of her suit dragging her down until her lips roughly met yours.

Wanda's response was immediate, her hunger for you matching your own. Her arms enveloped you, pulling you up until your legs wrapped around her. Her strides were long across the room trying to find the closest surface to hold you up against.

She pressed you against the oak of your bookcase, and you let out a whimper against her lips when you felt the painful bite of your spell book spines digging into your back.

Wanda took attention to this and used her magic to smoothly fuse through the bookcase and into the privacy of your bedroom. Her determination to be with you becoming increasingly evident. She tossed you onto the bed and crawled over you, reconnecting your lips into a searing kiss.

Her tongue wrestled with yours untill you were moaning into each other's mouths. With one hand holding herself up the other slid up and down your thigh, Warm and possessive. With an expert touch, Her lips moved down to your neck, where she immediately began nipping at that spot she knew you loved so much.

Your breaths were starting to become uneven and you through an arm over her neck, Wanting to be closer to her. You felt Wanda smile into your skin, reveling in your neediness

She conjured away the rest of your clothes, leaving you fully exposed infront of her longing gaze. Your body shivered when the textured leather of Wandas suit rubbed up against you, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

Lowering herself down, she pressed her lips to one of your erect nipples, envelopong it in a sensual kiss. Her mouth then tenderly sucked on the sensitive bud while her fingers skillfuklly squeezed and pinched the other. She glanced up at you, her eyes filled with satisfaction as she took in the sight of your blissful expression, eyes squeezed shut and your mouth slightly parted, completely lost in the pleasure she was giving you.

“I want to taste you” she mumbled against your skin, Descending down the mattress, leaving a trail of kisses and bites down your stomach. She kneeled in front of the bed and roughly pulled your legs until they were hanging off.

You could feel her breath on your pussy as she kissed everywhere, purposefully missing the one place you needed it the most.

She gently slide a finger into your hole and let out a low groan when she felt your wet walls immediately suck her in further.

“Still so responsive... you really are mine, aren’t you baby?” she mumbled in between kisses to your thighs, when you didn't respond she nipped at your skin.

“I will never be yours again” your breathed out, your chest rising and falling with every breath you took in

Something twisted inside Wanda at your words and a dark expression overcame her features as her grip on your thighs involuntarily tightened.

“Well see how you feel after this, pretty girl”

The pet's name is spat out like a curse. But you don't miss the way her tongue rolls over the words like she meant it. Like she actually thinks you are pretty. And so, despite the situation your cheeks burn red, and your heart hammers in your chest.

You didn’t get a chance to respond before you felt her roughly slide two fingers into your dripping hole, immediately curling and hitting your sweet spot. A satisfied grin formed on Wanda's face as she watched your head fall back in pleasure.

Unable to wait any longer She dropped her head and replaced her fingers with her tongue, moaning at the taste of you. You glanced down and felt your pussy clench at the erotic sight of Wanda stuffed between your legs.

She opened her mouth wide and immersed her tongue as deep as it could go. Swirling and twisting in all the right places. It had been so long, Too long since she had gotten to taste her girl, the urgency and desperation became evident when she started lapping at you like a ravenous creature.

A sharp hiss escaped your lips as the metal points of her crown pressed into the tender flesh of your thighs. You instinctively squirmed and writhed in an attempt to escape the painful sensation

She only tightened her hold on your thighs keeping them secured to her shoulders “Stay still," she commanded, her voice dripping with desire. "I'm not done yet.”

Your response was reduced to a mere whimper as an overwhelming sensation engulfed you. All of your nerves felt like they were on fire. You couldn't even form a coherent sentence. It all felt too good.

You felt your orgasm build embarrassingly fast, the tight coil in your stomach winding even tighter. It had been an eternity since someone had touched you this expertly—no one living up to the lofty standards Wanda had set.

Her tongue dipped into you and then dragged along your slit until it reached your clit, where she relentlessley started sucking on the hardened bud. Your moans echoed throughout the room As you began to mindlessly grind up into her mouth.

Every roll of your hips sent the sharp material of the crown deeper into your skin. Your mind began to feel fuzzy as it fell into a haze of overwhelming pleasure. Wanda was drunk off the sight of you right now. Fucked-out and completely at her mercy. Her chin was coated in your slick as she shamelessly devoured you.

Her eyes were glued onto your body, taking in the sight of your head thrown back in pleasure, your limbs squirming under her, watching you struggle to fight of your orgasm only encouraged her to go faster.

She pressed her face further into your core. A crimson streak of blood trickled down your thighs and onto her crown. Mingling with your arousal.

“Cum for me baby,” she commanded with a throaty groan, her fingers digging into your thighs. “show me that you’re mine”

You let out a loud moan and your hands flew to the sides of her head, Tangling into the mess of frayed red hair, Wanda's own moans harmonized with vibrations coursing through you, heightening the intensity of your orgasm.

Your hips slowed their pace as the waves of pleasure subsided, leaving your body pulsating with the aftermath of your climax. Breathing heavily, you propped yourself up on your elbows, your eyes fixated on Wanda who was undeniably captivated by the streams of blood tracing their way down your thigh.

A sinister smirk curved your lips as you taunted “You twisted bitch, you love it when I bleed for you”

Wanda responded with a chilling expression. Without breaking eye contact, She re-wrapped her arm around you. Her fingers possessively digging into your skin. She dragged her tongue over the cut, savoring the metallic taste

Your eyes fluttered shut, The gentle warmth of Wanda's tongue soothed the irritated burn, providing a small measure of comfort. As she rose from between your legs her hand found your throat, gripping it with a firm hold that demanded your attention.

Your eyes reluctantly reopened to meet Wanda's intense gaze. Her lips captured yours in a demanding kiss, and the lingering taste of blood mixed with your arousal coated your taste buds. It was a heady mixture that left you feeling undeniably dirty yet strangely exhilarated.

“You belong to me,” she whispered against your lips, her hand still wrapped around your throat. “You are mine to touch, to pleasure, to mark. Don't you ever forget that.”

You smiled and bit your lip, amused by her sudden possessiveness. Using her magic, she removed the rest of her clothes and waved her hand in front of her hips until a long scarlet dildo attached to a black harness reappeared.

You bit into your lip harder as recognition washed over you. It was your favorite toy, the one that allowed Wanda to intimately feel every inch of your throbbing pussy. You felt yourself clench, Anticipation coursing through your veins.

Still hovering over you, She held the base of the strap and dragged the tip along your slit a low groan emitting from both of your mouths at the contact. You began to grow impatient, arching yourself up as you watched her tease herself.

She finally pushed herself into you, and an unrestrained moan escaped her parted lips as she savored the exquisite sensation of your snug, velvety walls enveloping her. She stilled herself for a moment, allowing you to gradually adjust to the fullness.

“I missed your pussy so much” she groaned out, coming down to press her chest against yours as her hips began to rock into you. The toy curves up and and slides against your insides in the most perfect way, she’s nearly halfway in and you clamp down on her.

“Fuck, you're squeezing me so good.” Wanda leans closer to you, inhaling your scent as one of her hands grips your thigh. She pulls the toy out until just the tip remains inside before roughly snaping her hips forward. You loudly moaned into her ear, digging your nails into her back.

“Harder” you whined, wrapping your legs around her waist and pressing your heels into her back, edging her in deeper. “Please, wanda”

She grinned and started pounding into you harder. Pushing her cock in as deep as it could go. “I knew you were still my slut.”

You could only respond with a breathless call of her name. She further pushes your body into the mattress making you feel even smaller as her strap rams into your pussy. you grip onto her tighter and your moans float all throughout the room, they bounce around the walls and come slamming back into your own ears.

“Yeah, you like being called what you are? Because you're my slut. Mine” Her movements are becoming erratic. The mattress squeaks under you and your headboard slams into the wall with every forceful thrust of her hips. “im never letting you slip away again.”

Your hands claw deep red streaks across her back that move with every flex of her muscles. Her hand grip your ass, grinding you onto her cock as her thrusts begin to lose their rhythem.

She thrusts at an angle that has you seeing white light. Your whole body shook as your orgasm crashed over you. Every nerve was sent into overdrive, no feeling could ever compare to this. Being under Wanda, your limbs tightly bound to her as you fell apart on her cock. It all felt so right

“Fuck, oh fuck, You're gonna make me cum” she grunted, shoving her face into your neck. As she chased her high, tortured with the need to release into your wet heat “Gonna fill this pussy up so good-Fuck!”

Her hips roll into you until she is fully submerged in your pussy. Loud moans and whines fill your ears as you feel thick ropes of her cum paint your insides, filling you to the brim until it splatters on the insides of your thighs. Her hips are still fucking into you and your cunt wraps around her cock pulling her in further.

After she rides out the last bits of her high, her body collapses onto you, pressing you into the mattress. You feel her shaky sighs against your neck, and her body slowly relaxes as you soothingly run your hands through her hair. Just when you think she might have fallen asleep, she abruptly leans up to look down at you.

“You're a fucking nightmare.” you breathlessly whisper

She responds by kissing your lips, her love and obsession intermingling in that stolen moment. You can't help but return the kiss with the same feverish fervor, wrapping your arms around her neck and arching into her.

This new side of you excited wanda to exhilarating heights. Even in the early stages of your relationship, you had always embraced your darker nature, and it was one of the things that had initially drawn her to you, but this newfound level of intensity made her pulse with excitement about your future together, the things you'd do together, the things you'd learn, all the things she would teach you.

You were just so perfect for her, you had always been, and In your bones, you knew you could never be without wanda, it was as if the two of you were eternally connected at your very core.

A smile stretched across your face as she gazed into your eyes. It was clear that your journey into the depths of darkness was far from over.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x y/n #elizabeth olsen #fanfic #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel #smut

990 notes · View notes

charliemwrites · 3 months

Text

Part 3 for Nikto with his… handler? Living god? Owner? Who knows, certainly not the reader.

No content warnings as far as I’m aware but let me know if you think that should change.

Snuggle in, you tell him. Every night, clockwork, a signal to calm, settle, rest. Leave the blood and bone of the day behind.

Like he’s not a man who barely remembers he’s alive most days. Like he doesn’t turn to you blooming human, a plant to sunlight. All because you tell him to.

Snuggle in, you bid, tugging at his thick bicep. Your fingers don’t even curl halfway around it. He’s huge, even without all the gear. Or maybe because he's out of his gear.

Snuggle in, you coo. A guilty part of you preens at the way his head cocks at that turn of phrase. He never hesitates to climb into the bed you’ve shared since he made himself yours. There’s really no choice but to snuggle on such a small mattress, but he still lets you move him, teddy bear-like, to the most comfortable position.

“You’re warm,” you hum, because he needs to remember his heart is beating, pumping blood. That he’s not a corpse.

“Too warm?” He asks.

“No,” you sigh happily.

He lies on his side tonight, always between you and the door. You pluck at the front of his t-shirt, urging him closer, away from the edge of the bed. It feels like you’re constantly coaxing him away from an edge. He always comes willingly at least.

His heavy arm drapes across your waist, as robotic as a cuddle can be. You don’t mind, he’s still getting used to this. Knows how to provide you comfort but not how to take it in for himself. He'll settle, you know, always does. Virtues of sleep melting all his harsh, rigid lines.

You wrap both your legs around one of his. Rock-like muscle flexes, twitches, settles. He’s wearing just his underwear and a t-shirt; he’s hard again.

You understand why he said no. Aren’t even all that disappointed. Not for your own sake, anyway. For his, perhaps a little. Wish he’d treat his body with more than just obligation, but small steps. One at a time. For now, you’ve got him here, warm, his breaths already lengthening in preparation to sleep.

You stroke your hand along his ribs like soothing a horse. It’s more for yourself than him, a silent affirmation that you’re both here and safe and bedding down for the night. Count the bumps of scars - one… two-three, four… and five. Five-and-a-half at his hip.

His cock twitches against your lower stomach. It feels thick. Big. You squeeze his hip and tuck your arm between your bodies again.

“Were you ever ticklish?” you ask.

“No.”

You snort in amusement and press your forehead to his chest. Feel his heart beating slow-steady. Always so, so calm. Inhumanly so. You never fall into the trap of letting yourself think he’s anything but a man.

“What do you want to dream about tonight?” you pipe up again.

You don’t know why you’ve started asking this. Maybe to remind him that he’s not dying for a short while. Maybe to figure out something of his mind, still so unfathomable to you. Maybe just to get his voice in your ear as one last nightcap.

“Winter,” he answers. “Snow.”

You make a soft noise. “I think I want to dream of that too.”

You do dream of winter, and snow. You dream of green-black trees and swathes of frost crystal. And you dream of Nikto. A smudge of black with ice chips for eyes.

You reach for him, drag him down to a pillow of snow with you. Even in sleep, he yields for you, doughy and soft. Drapes himself over you, clucking about the temperature until you shush him with kisses snuck between his shirt and mask. You press and pull, want him close, want him...

"Are you alright?"

You blink into the darkness, at ice chip eyes and a patchwork jaw of scars and stubble. Nikto's mouth is pressed thin, worried. A canine peaks out from a scar that healed poorly despite your best efforts, skin tugged back into a permanent little snarl. His canines always look so sharp.

"You were... having nightmare?" He drops articles when he’s tired. You must have woken him. Part of you despairs at ruining his sleep; he gets so little of it.

You lick your dry lips, swallow past an equally dry throat. There's a noticeable stickiness between your thighs. A needy ache throughout your pelvis. You're nearly shaking.

"Um," you rasp, rubbing at your face. "Not a... it was just intense."

His brow furrows a bit. This tiny line that emphasizes a jagged mark over his forehead. You trace over it absently, nearly grind down on his thigh again when you see how his pupils dilate further.

"Alright?" he asks again. Always so worried. So expressive with you, for you.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you sit up slowly, carefully. He sits back with you, eyes sharp as he looks for injuries, as if someone snuck in and attacked you while he slept. "Just need a drink."

He makes room for you to climb out of bed. You wish you could grab a spare pair of underwear on your way, but you can feel his eyes burning on your back. Don't want him to feel... pressured? Awkward? You swallow your lust and stumble into the bathroom.

A cold splash of water shocks you more awake but also cools your blood.

It’s been a long time since you got yourself off. Nikto all but lives in your pocket now; and whenever you do have privacy, you’re usually too tired to bother with getting off. Some days it’s all you can do to brush your teeth before collapsing in bed.

Not right now though. Right now you want to do sinful things to the man who’s entrusted you with his fragile psyche.

Fuck.

You rub at your eyes, discard of your soaked panties in the hamper. You’ll grab a new pair in the morning and just spend the rest of the night commando.

When you climb into bed again, Nikto is still wide awake, waiting for your return. You crawl in with him, chilled now.

“Better?” He asks, almost hesitant.

The heat of him seeps into you like honey, a sweet drizzle down your spine, diffusing through your bones. Sleep is already dragging at you again.

“Mhm,” you sigh. You don’t wrap your legs around him this time. But you can’t help hooking your calf around his, ankles locked together.

“Alright,” he whispers, almost to himself.

You hum, fingers curling loose around his wrist. “Settle in, Nikto. I’m okay.”

You fall asleep with your head against his tricep. This time you dream of nesting birds.

—

Anger, like most strong emotion, is something you thought a bit beyond Nikto. Not that he doesn’t feel it, more that the dissociation mutes it all. Makes it into something vague in his mind, a vivid color desaturated to pastel.

You were wrong. Or maybe you’re right in every other instance except this one.

The circumstances brew up a storm like so:

Kortac has sent you (and by default, Nikto) with a small team to yet another military base. Mundane by all accounts.

You and Nikto bunk together, also by default. (“Snuggle in,” you chide as he glares at the door. It’s not your door; it’s not your base. It makes him twitchy. It even seems like he hesitates for a moment before climbing in.)

You, by virtue of being novel and shiny and discouraged, are viewed as a tempting commodity. Think you even hear one of the men you’re supposed to be working with mutter “dibs” to someone else. Also pretty mundane.

What is not mundane is someone seeing Nikto at your side and apparently thinking, that’s a place I want to insert myself uninvited.

The clouds roll in at the gym. You’re setting up the squat rack while Nikto finishes up his last set of pull-ups. (You’re trying not to ogle. You might be failing.)

Someone sidles up to behind you, just in the corner of your eye. Standing closer than a perfect stranger should. You think it’s Aksel and turn, wondering if he’s already done with cardio. Instead, you find a man you’re only mildly acquainted with.

You’ve run some drills with him, saw him in a briefing two days ago. But you’re generally so wrapped up in the microcosm you and Nikto have formed that you don’t even remember his name.

“Need a spotter?” He asks, smiling.

You shift your weight back, trying to put more distance between you two. It’s strange. Nikto stands even closer than he is on a regular basis and you’d feel bereft if he didn’t. But this… feels invasive.

“No, I have someone,” you reply, perfectly polite. “But thank you.”

“Ah, you mean the Nobody?” The man chuckles. You clench your teeth. “Someone else ought to get a turn, no? Your teammates said you are not romantic.”

You frown. Whatever they said, you’re sure that was not the verbatim answer. You don’t know what you and Nikto are — it’s something that defies any language you know. But it’s certainly beyond “romantic”.

(Waking deep in the night, sweating and panting and aching for the man already awake, worried for you. Dreams plagued with pale blue eyes and scars that still ache. Phantom sensations of skin that only breathes in the safety of your room.)

“No,” you answer, “Nikto is my partner.”

A shadow passes behind him, Nikto returning to your side, faithful as always. His eyes don’t even flick towards the other man.

The man, however, locks eyes on him and sneers.

“What, does your guard dog bite?” He mocks. “You don’t owe it anything just because it humps your leg.”

Your temper flares, white hot and mean. “The only dog here is the one yapping for attention.”

Anger ripples across his face, he tenses like he’s going to move. The start of some derogatory name on his tongue.

And then between one blink and the next, he’s on the floor and Nikto is standing over him. Metal flashes beneath the lights; a wicked knife held in Nikto’s tight fist. The man isn’t getting back up any time soon though, he’s bleeding from… somewhere on his face. You can’t tell with the way he’s covering it.

“Knife away,” you tell Nikto quietly.

It’s gone in an instant.

You hook two fingers in a chest strap and tug. “We’re done in here.”

He follows you out, silent as ever. Follows without question or complaint until you stop between buildings. Let out a sigh.

“Fuck that guy,” you huff, running a hand down your face.

“I could still gut him,” he offers.

You’d laugh if you didn’t know he meant it wholeheartedly.

“He deserves it for what he said about you,” you mutter.

Nikto cocks his head, stares. Doesn’t understand, you realize.

You shake off the last of your ire and turn your full attention to him. Step in close and take his gloved hand in both of yours. The same one that had held the knife. There’s a little smear of blood on the knuckles.

“I don’t know what anyone says about me,” you explain. “You know who I am, and that’s all that matters.”

His eyes bounce between yours, something stunned in smooth skin around his eyes. You smile a bit.

“But what I won’t abide is anyone trying to take your humanity from you. Not ever again, you hear me?”

He mask moves like he wants to speak, but no sound comes out. You wait a moment to see if he’s just picking his words, but nothing comes. After a long moment, he just blinks, and you continue.

“You protect me, right?” He nods instantly. You tilt your head. “Well, I take care of you. You let me decide how to do that, yeah?”

His voice comes out shredded. “Yes.”

You hum, pleased. “C’mon, let’s get a bite to eat.”

#nikto x reader #cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #cod nikto

897 notes · View notes

yandere-wishes · 10 months

Text

The Perfect Girl

Summary: Somewhere along the line the villain won and the hero lost. Now your life is nothing more than a cautionary tale.

Part #2 of Imposter Syndrome but can be read as a stand-alone. Part #3 The Spider's web

Warnings: Dollification, yandere themes but like more than usual, abuse, violence, horrible Spanish, NO NSFW but the reader and Miles are 18+. Friends to enemies to one sided lovers. This plays out as a cautionary tale.

Author's note: Can you tell I'm bad at writing Intimacy??😂🤣

You squirm uncomfortably on Miles's lap. Arms awkwardly thrown around his neck as you try to hide your face in his chest. Miles sits proudly, face void of emotions and voice overflowing with authority. He's barking orders to his underlings. For what you're not sure, you've long since stopped listening in on his conversations, your inability to do anything coupled with the innocent lives you know would be destroyed was enough to keep you awake at night. And consciousness was the last thing you wanted these days.

It's been six weeks.

Six weeks since the Prowler defeated New York's last beacon of hope. Six weeks since he'd been welcomed into the Sinister Six as their newest member. They're shining star.

Six weeks since he stole you away from everything you knew,

everything you loved.

You hear the padding of feet and the loud thump of the door. You're alone with him again. So the nightmare begins anew. You're reluctant to lift your head, to face your capturer. You hate him, you hate him, you hate him. It's funny how once, back when you'd still wore your beloved silk mask, you had used to count the minutes until your midnight rendezvous.

Miles's fingers reach towards you, tilting your chin up. His smile is razor sharp, deformed as if he can't quite remember how to smile. "Muñequita" he mutters like a disjointed prayer as his fingers glide up your side. Drowning you in a sense of impending doom.

You stare into his eyes. Two voids that have seen every nightmare imaginable. Any saint, any sweet innocent boy whose been trapped inside the darkness for this long comes out as a monster. Stumbling through the night with knives instead of teeth and an appetite for destruction. Miles Morales may have been a human once, a long time ago. Before you met him, before the savior of New York met him. But now he's a monster, one who has long since buried any morals and dignity he may have once had.

Sometimes when the night rages on and you're caged between his arms and sentience. you wonder if maybe, just maybe you should go digging for any of the virtues that he's buried six feet deep. But when he laughs and tauntingly presses on a new bruise with his thumb, you conclude quickly that it's better to leave his good qualities dead. it's easier to hate him that way.

"How does it feel to sit in your arch nemesis's lap?"

He jabs as he pinches your cheek. You let out a soft cry of annoyance as you shift your gaze away from your tormentor.

Miles revels in your fall from grace. Adores pinching and probing you in front of his minions or the rest of his gang members. Loves taunting you after every failed escape attempt. You try to bite his finger, to make him feel a fraction of your pain. But before your teeth can graze his skin, he releases your cheek. He laughs, low and fragmentary. A haunting noise that reminds you that he barely counts as human anymore, just a heartless ghost masquerading as a real boy. "Trying to rebel again mi amor?".

You fight the urge to pick at the flesh of your face or bite your fingers until you reach the bone.

Miles's eyes narrow, annoyed at your lack of a response. He's growing bored, he always does when his pet refuses to play along. His gauntlet reaches for your neck. Squeezing as the claws bite into your flesh.

you should let him kill you, give him the final satisfaction of watching your blood blemish the skin-tight dress he's made you wear. Watch as the life leaves your eyes. "let's try this again mami. When I ask, how it feels your response should be.."

"I love you Miles" you mutter, all deadpan and defaced. "Not like that say it the way I taught you" he hisses, a threat, you note wearily.

"Te amo Miles"

"Bino"

Sometimes you think that he's foolish enough to believe your reprised lie. It almost helps him deceive himself into believing he still has a soul left.

He thinks he loves you.

You think he doesn't know what love quite is.

You use to be a hero, use to be revered and respected by all. You use to be someone, someone important. Laminating about all of this now will do you no good.

You're nothing more than a doll now. Painted and dressed the way Miles likes, posed forever perfectly on his lap. Flaunted and paraded as all prize trophies should be. You guess it makes sense. To the victor goes the spoils. You wonder if you would have done the same to him if you had emerged triumphant that night. Deep down, where logic doesn't reach, you know you would. At least you would have let him keep his dignity. You're not like him, you're not a villain...

But you're not a hero anymore either. What are you supposed to be anyway? When questions like this bubble into your withering mind. You force yourself to choke down the idea that you're still good, you have to be. You're not like him, like them. You're afraid that someday you'll look in the mirror and every ounce of your virtues will have evaporated. You promise yourself that that'll be the day you do something drastic. To yourself or Miles, you're not sure yet.

Miles's fingers trace the indents on your neck. Angry red puncture holes left by his steel claws. He buries his face in the crock of your neck. Licking the measly blood drops from the wounds before tenderly kissing his territory. "Stop it" you grumble trying to push at his chest. But he just growls in warning, ignoring your feeble attempts. "I got you a present, Mami" he whispers over your jugular. You flinch, as he detaches from your neck with a final kiss. He maneuvers you off his lap as he gets up and walks over to a closet on the other side of the room. Plucking out a necklace from one of the drawers.

Necklace is a generous term. Its neck tight and studded. With a silver chain hanging dead-center that speaks of horrors untold. You know what it implies, you know what he's trying to say, trying to prove. You never thought you'd miss the Prowler's iron glad punches to your stomach but you think this might just be worst. At least back then you'd been able to fight back. Reimburse every punch with a kick or stab of your own. Now you are helpless, frail. Broken glass perpetually embedded in soft cotton. Something wild, something tamed. Golden specks of a crown long since shattered tint your hair. All ghosts of who you once were.

"What do you say, muñequita," He says. In a tone that's sick, in a tone that's sweet. Like rotten nectar trickling down a destroyed paradise. Like boiling blood dripping from a broken heart. There's a click, as he fastens his present around your neck. An endless second before reality comes crashing in.

"Gracias Miles" You reply as you feel your last shard of freedom disintegrate.

You use to be something, someone. Carved from porcelain ideals and ivory hope. Divine ichor ran through your veins as you swung across New York's skyline. You had been chosen, but you hadn't been enough.

Now it feels like someone tore you apart. Ripped away your flesh, your bones, your thoughts, your soul. Stitched you up wrong with a rusted needle and a thread of ash. And all you could do was sit there and watch as your golden blood seeped through ruptured veins.

Miles grabs your shoulders. Pulling you close enough so the spikes of your necklace cut into his flesh. His lips bite yours teasingly before they finally merge into a dreadful kiss. He isn't the Prowler you remember, albeit you know that's wrong. He's not the Prowler you had fabricated when you'd thought that the two of you were both innocent souls driven to madness by this city. You use to think that Miles was beautiful, a moon-kissed face with stardust dripping from his eyes. Now you know the truth. He's nothing more than a nightmare, the embodiment of starless darkness and the terrors that lurk upon blackened city streets. He's not your friend. He never was. You were just so foolish and overwhelmed back then.

"You're mine, héroe." His voice is nothing short of a dagger laced with venom. Spreading apathetic poison from your heart to your lungs and leaking into your bloodstream. You see blood behind your eyes when your eyelids shut. Feel the apprehension pounding in the hollows of your bones.

You've long since hemmed every hole where your pride and glory use to bleed through. But it's so hard to keep divinity down when it's all you've ever known. This life isn't yours. This thing that Miles has forced you to be isn't you. There's still hope, you think. Heroes never lose hope. It's a lesson everyone learns, sooner or later.

Later that night Miles kisses you again, this time whispering how to him you are perfection personified. The dark circles under your eyes and bloody knuckles validate that. He traces circles on your arms whilst telling you about how the Sinister Six plan to expand their operations to the next city over. All this makes you wonder if he'd ever been a sweet little boy, tucked under his mother's arm, whilst his father kisses his cheek. Of if he's always been a merciless monster who wears his kills like honor badges.

You pray under your breath as he reminds you that you're no longer a hero. You wonder if you pray because you are human or if praying makes you human. There are still some fragments of hope bubbling inside you regardless of what he says.

Miles likes to remind you that you no longer have the power to save anyone. That the villains won and the heroes lost and that's the way this story ends.

You refuse to believe him.

1K notes · View notes

festering-obsession · 10 months

Text

How You Fell Into Their Trap

TW/CW: Self- Destructive Behavior, Hollywood-ized Disorders, Yandere/Dark Behavior, Violence, Dubious Consent, Drugging, Slight Divergence from Source, Canon-Typical Violence

A/N: Pacing could be weird in both stories. In both, the reader is pondering the past before it jumps to the present to help with any confusion before reading!!

Slenderman:

You want to tear your eyes out, pull at your skin, and scream until nothing left can be heard. It would be better than the constant paranoia eating at you. The splitting headaches and the dazed look on your face as you slowly forget what day it is.

No medicine, no drug can even make you lose an ounce of these random episodes. What's worse, it that they seem to drag on longer and occur more. You wipe the bile off the corner of your mouth as you lean next to the wall in front of the toilet.

The doctors even are puzzled. They best the can sum it up to is you’re faking it. Your body is faking it. Then why can't you stop any of it? In fact, you beg your body to stop.

You can't ignore the fact that you were a sickly child. Constantly falling under nearly the same symptoms but after your parents moved, it stopped. Occasional bouts here and there, but maybe the cleaner air farther from the city helped. Your parents agreed that you eventually just grew out of your sickness, hoping to move on and forget.

But you could never forget the same figure that haunted you since a child. The same tall, white figure, faceless, in a suit. He was everywhere. As soon as you looked, he was there for a split second. And you could feel his hostile aura waiting to strike and kill you. Even as an adult, that face haunted you.

You tried to pin point what triggered your episodes. Maybe after you went to the forrest with your friend, maybe a weird bug bit you? Or you contracted an infection somehow? The forest was beautiful. Tall trees, lush grasses, variety of flaura, and the mountains raised in the backdrop. All was suppose to go well, but going there was the worst mistake of your life. The previous delusions you seemed to have increased tenfolds and it seemed you threw you friend in the same fate as you.

The two of you wandered the forest after the wind rushed and seemed to grip the map from his hands. And even better? Not a lick of signal. When night time hit, you entered a real life nightmare. The figure that haunted you as a child came back. And scarier than ever. But this time, he also saw it.

Your friend gripped your hand as the two of you narrowly escaped the almost glitching creature. Appearing behind, then in front, and then in a damn tree. When you lost track of the figure, your friend was also losing track of himself. He heaved as he gripped at his hair before pulling at it. Above your own urge to do the same, you tried to grab his hands and stop him. Your friend looked at you as he began to claw at his eyes.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME." He roared as blood began to seep down him. "He told me, he told me that if I touch you, my death will be put in his hands." He sobbed out scooting away from you.

"He? Who's he?" You cried out, confused as you saw your friend trying to hurt himself.

"Him. The man. The one in the shadows. He told me that if I even look at you anymore, he'll rip my eyes out himself." He banged his head on the ground, still clawing at his eyes. "But he granted me the mercy to at least do it myself." Your friend reached for a jagged rock and brought it to his face.

Your head was filled with static to the point you passed out, and awake in your living room. You wanted it to be a dream, but it was farther from the truth. Your coworker and close friend, hung himself in the same place you two hiked at two days prior.

It was your fault, and you couldn't bring yourself to let it happen again as you hauled yourself in your apartment. Refusing contact with anyone. You were just meant to be a disease.

The apartment went on fire, and you never felt more estatic. Finally, you would greet death with open arms, and your family wouldn't live with the regret if you took your own life. Shit, maybe they could even sue to gain some money off your death. Maybe you'd actually bring fortune to someone.

You laid pliant on your bed, smoke filtering inside your room as the fire danced and spread around the room. A smile on your face before you felt its presence again.

The tall figure hovering over you this time, but no sickness accompanied with it. Faceless, except spots that were slightly sunken in that could be mistaken for one, put a finger up to his face presumably to its mouth. He then disappeared and you fell into unconsciousness with it as well.

And appeared back in the same fucking forrest. This time, surrounded by three human(ish) men.

A crazed man with goggles and a mask, wielding a bloodied axe. Next to him, was a seemingly timid one, dressed in an orange hoodie and when you tried to focus closer, all that greeted you was red, sullen eyes. A feminine mask graced the other one as he donned an orange bomber jacket.

Your mouth felt dry and when you tried to scream, it came out a pathetic groan for help. They clearly had no interest in doing so, more concerned on talking to one another in poorly hushed voices.

"You handled them too rough! If they get a bruise, he won't like it." One choked out in a worried tone.

"They're not a doll, they're fine. And besides, it's not like he told us to deliver them to him in 5-star hotel. He wanted them to be brought to the forest and we did. I'm sure he wouldn't be fond if we held on them too long, so to the floor they go." The one behind the mask spoke, steady voiced.

And another air of static rose around you, stiffening your surroundings. You fell in and out of consciousness and could barely even tell if time was moving, or not.

The men had left sometime ago, 3 hours or minutes? You didn't know. All you could feel was the mossy earth and crushed leaves beneath your slightly aching body.

Vision blurred as the man in the black and white dotted across behind your eye lids in mind as you slipped unconscious into a fever like dream. But this time, it didn't make you sick. It was replaced by a sense of, longing? What was once your nightmare incarnated, seemed softer (even for lack of facial features).

You felt as if watching yourself in third person, your figure collapsed on the floor of a velvety chapel, a heavy white [dress/tuxedo] weighing you down to the ground as you could hear a low melody playing in the background, a church hymn low in the distance as the pianist follows suit.

Pushing yourself up with your two arms, your mind follows the red path trailing to the center. You hear murmuring in the distance but as you scanned your surroundings, no one was there. Just the tall white figure dressed in the clean tuxedo.

You felt yourself gliding towards him, despite not even getting up on your feet. But when you looked down, you saw the inky black tendrils span out like tiny veins combining to makin thick ropey tentacles. They slowly brought you towards him as your hands slowly held onto the decaying flower bouquet.

You opened your mouth only to find no words were coming out. You gripped at your lips, trying to force something out to protest against whatever this was but the sweet piano was only heard echoing throughout.

Finally, you were brought to the empty pillar, but the entity's limbs never left your body. Instead, it seemed to latch onto your harder, as it expanded over your body. You gazed over the empty chapel, but the long and slender hands of the monster in front of you made you look at him.

Blank, faceless, pale, but you could feel the tension in the air as he stared at you in his own way. His stark white body contrasting deeply with his black tuxedo. You felt tears rush down your face but the monster seemed to enjoy that sight. As your face came close to his, the static in your head grew. The only word you could make out amiss all the noise was mine.

As your lips finally made contact with the blank slate of a man, you woke up in a large bed. As you glanced around, you found dust on the bed, but everything else looking surprisingly in pristine condition.

Just as you were about to scream, a large hand grasped your shoulder. The entity, that monster. But, instead of the normal vomit inducing headache and static you would feel when you confronted him was gone.

Yet, that [dress/tuxedo] from the dream still remained. As you looked down at your outfit in confusion, the monster slipped his hands under your chin to meet his gaze. The static-like voice replaced with a deep soothing, voice finally talked as his other hand made it up your back.

"Now that your officially mine, I can't find myself being able to hold back much longer."

Jeff The Killer:

Jeffery always seemed on the brink of becoming unhinged. Ever since building up to the, incident. His family moved to the neighborhood, normal enough. His parents, his brother, all seemed well. Even at first meetings Jeffery looked sane enough at first glance. Nothing stood about him. Like every other teenage boy. His light brown hair framed his face in the typical unkempt way with his blue eyes shining against his complexion. His clothes were obviously picked out by his mother since he never cared to actually shop for his wardrobe.

He was not your first choice to be friends with. But as your parents grew cozy with his, they near forced you to befriend the quiet boy.

It was awkward. Standing next to him at the bus stop with small talk eventually landed to you two sitting on the bus together. It grew to where he would spare you an earbud to play music on his music player. Then, it turned to you actually seeking him out during class projects, not because you had no one else to, but you began to somewhat enjoy his company.

You began to come to his house, and him to your house without the prompting of your parents. Maybe you were just as strange as him which explained the quicker connection between the two of you. It ranged from drawing, reading horror stories to eachother on the ever growing "internet", running to the near gas station for a snack stop only to get brain freezes from racing eachother who could drink their slushie faster.

His interests slowly grew darker. Darker videos, interests in the occult and local murders and death, and even visiting previous crime scenes. You didn't notice at first, you enjoyed the more taboo subjects, but he seemed to take it on a different level. But like you, he was just a young adult trying to figure out the big world, right...?

As his interests grew more morbid, a group of boys began to pick on him. His brother did what he could do to halt them as you tried to center Jeffery's attention elsewhere, but you knew it was beginning to wear him down.

He fought them. Not only did he fight one by himself, but three. He was scuffed up, but the other boys more so. You felt in a daze. Although it was self defense, he would be put in the blame. He came to your house soon after, but he wasn't in a panic. He was happy. Estatic. You fussed over his bruises and small cuts as you dabbed on first aid supplies. He couldn't stop talking for the death of him. You ignored most of it as he tended to talk lots of nonsense most the time, but a sentence stood out you couldn't ignore.

"I never felt more alive."

He looked at you. His blue eyes shining threw his choppy, layered hair. He gently held your wrist in the middle of applying an antibiotic cream.

"S/o, I want you to know, if anything happens, you're coming with me. I promise that." His once happy persona faded as he stared at you solemnly. You nodded slowly and continued patching him up.

When the police came, his brother Liu took his spot and told them it was him. You've never seen Jeffery so desperate to admit his own crimes but the police left, leaving the younger brother. It changed something in him. He only trusted Liu and you. But with him gone, he was clingy and.. handsy. Always trying to have you physically touching him in some way. Either him pressed up against your side or his hand wrapped around yours. His twisted mind finally grasping the concept of how easily people can be taken from him.

To no one's surprise, he did get in trouble more at school. His parents blaming him for getting into so much trouble in his senior year. To your surprise, not too long after that fight, his parents forced him to go to a party with them as a way to "clean" up their image. Like the loyal friend you were, you went with him.

It all happened too fast. His bullies were back as ready for vengeance all the same as if they didn't cause enough damage. One grabbed at you taunting him, "No big brother now, and no [girlfriend/boyfriend] to help you either!" One cackled as they drew a knife near your throat. He never had lost his composure so fast as he saw you. In his mind, you were his and that disgusting shit touched you.

Pure chaos erupted as two boys dropped dead. Blood on both men. Police were called but none came fast enough. Tears went down your face as you tried to grab one of them to stop but your parents held you back in horror watching them fight. Eventually Jeffery got the advantage and took time to prepare his next move in state of manic happiness. He didn't mind the bleach dripping down his frame. He had murder on his mind.

"Remember my promise. I will come to get you soon!" He looked back at you before he grabbed onto the knife and lodged it into the attackers chest. You felt dizzy with the scene in front of you, finally hearing sirens from the cops.

The final movement from the attacker lifted up a match and sent Jeffery on fucking fire. A blood curling scream from the crowd erupted before you felt sick to your stomach and passed out.

He was sent to the hospital, and as much as you were trying to visit him, only family was allowed. Countless nights you worried over the health of a boy you didn't even want to be friends with in the beginning. Too weak to talk to him one on one. All information you got on his wellbeing was from his parents who were already stressed enough.

When he was finally released from hospital and was being sent home, your parents allowed you to visit him the following morning.

As the sun rose and birds chirped, you sprinted to his house with the latest music DVDs and horror movies that he missed out on. You knocked on the door as you barely contained your glee for seeing him.

The door opened. It was unlocked. And the smell of metal wafted to your nostrils. You peaked your head and opened the already ajar door.

And you screamed as blood was splattered in every corner.

But, that was years ago. No longer the dumb teenager you were, but yet it was still stained on your mind. The countless headliners for the news, the police interviews, the therapy sessions. You moved far away from that neighborhood but no matter where you go, the memories would still follow.

Although a murderer now, still on the loose which scared you to your core, you yearned for the nostalgic Jeffery. The one before the murders.

You placed the book of photos down, gingerly touching the photo where you and Jeffery clicked slushies together. It was over now though, that was the past.

That night as you laid to rest, you felt the cold breeze of the nightly wind under your sheets.

You also felt cold wet drops on your face as a hand slapped against your mouth before you could fully register what was happening.

A manic grin spread from ear to ear, scared red against deathly pale skin. Eyes a dull blue with dark eyebags. The hair was jet black and frayed in a shaggy like mullet.

His other hand held your arms in one grip as he started laughing.

"Oh, s/o, I finally found you." He cried out in-between bursts of laughter.

"But where the fuck were you when I needed you. Where were you when I told you I'd come to get you."

And your heart dropped as you mumbled through his fingers. "Jeffery, is that you...?"

"The one and only and STOP AVOIDING THE QUESTION. WHERE WERE YOU?" He begged out, his happiness dropped. "It was suppose to be just me and you. Just us against the world. I needed you to wait for me. But when I finally got my own footing, you left!"

"I fucking missed you. But now, " He shifted eagerly as he straddled your hips. "I'm myself. This is what I was meant to be, and can you even accept that?"

You look at him in shock, your whole body feels like it was dropped in freezing water. Your heart was in the dilemma of whether it's about to stop or keep beating as wildly as possible.

"I don't expect you to respond now. But you will answer me later, you whore." He leaned down and took his hand off your mouth. "I hate that I still like you even after you abondoned me."

His lips hovered over yours teasingly. "I fucking hate the fact you're still as beautiful as the day you left me. But now, you're staying with me." Despite his taunting demeanor, there is an act of urgency, desperation, in his next moves.

His lips connected to yours within seconds as you tried to squirm away. His hands still holding yours away from pushing him. His hand gripped your cheek as he pushed the back of your head to deepen the kiss.

And then you felt a foreign pill slip into your mouth as Jeff still kept the kiss connected, forcing you to swallow.

"Go to sleep." He breathes out, finally pulling away from your lips. You are hit with an unfamiliar urge to go unconscious. Your limbs feel unbearably heavy as your eyelids begin to close again. The last thing you see before your eyes shut is his insanely stretched out smile and his lovesick eyes glaring at you.

….

[Heyyy I’m alive guys. Work and school kicked my ass but I’m still here.]

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x darling #yandere scenarios #yandere monster #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta imagines #jeff the killer x reader #slenderman x reader

1K notes · View notes

riordanness · 4 months

Text

nightmare dressed like a daydream — [w.wonka]

wordcount: 1.1K

warnings: nightmares and reader has ptsd

requested: no (but feel free to <3)

As usual, the nightmares hit as soon as I close my eyes.

Memories of the life I used to live, the people who used to control my every waking minute. The ache of my bones, the pounding of my head, the intense loneliness that would try to consume me.

Will had been the light shining through the darkness of my life, but in my dreams, he never came back for me.

I was left stranded in Mrs Scrubbit’s chicken coop, or left to scrub and scrub the dirt from a pile of clothes that never ended.

I would often wake in a cold sweat, or screaming, or crying, or sometimes all of them at once. My hands would be clenched so tightly around the sheets that my knuckles would be white. My breathing would be heavy, and I’d be near impossible to calm down.

Except for when Willy Wonka was there. Because that boy was a miracle.

Just his touch, and a few gentle words would slow my heart rate. My breathing would calm, and I would focus on reality again.

Reality was being safe. It was being with Willy, helping him make his astounding chocolates. Reality was being happy every day. Being free everyday. Reality was falling in love with Willy Wonka.

Tonight, my dreams were much the same. I was small, and alone, and the darkness and freezing cold of the chicken coop were smothering me. The awful smell filled my nose, I was chilled to the bone, and I had almost given up.

But just at the moment when Willy was supposed to show up and rescue me, whisk me away to safety and to freedom, he didn’t come. He didn’t show up at all.

He left me there to be trapped forever.

I wake with a start, a strangled cry choking out of me. Tears are still fresh on my cheeks, and my chest heaves with sobs.

Barely a moment passes before my bedroom door opens. Willy rushes through, and drops to his knees on the floor beside my bed.

“Hey, hey,” he says quietly. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re okay.”

He reaches for me, pulling me close to his chest. I cry into his shirt, fists clutching at the material.

“You… I was… alone,” I cry, utterly distraught. You’d think, after having the same nightmare every night for weeks now, that I’d be a little less sensitive to it, but it was so painful every time. Painful in a way I just couldn’t describe properly.

The thought of not having Willy in my life, this boy who now meant the entire world to me, this boy who had rescued me from my terrible life and set me free, that realisation of him leaving me there hurt like nothing else.

Waking up to realise it was just a dream, and that Willy would never do that, was so relieving I just cried even more.

But here, wrapped in his arms, I knew I was safe. I knew I didn’t need to worry about being alone anymore. Because I wasn’t. I had Willy Wonka by my side, and I probably always will.

“I would never leave you,” Willy whispers into my hair, as his fingers play with a strand of it.

I wonder if maybe he can read my thoughts. He always seems to know the exact right thing to say to make me feel better, to ease my worries and anxieties and to calm me right down.

“You never need to worry about being alone again.”

His words are like a sip of hot chocolate, warm and comforting, spreading that happy feeling all over me.

“Hey,” Willy says in a hushed voice. “Can you let me go for a second, sweetheart?”

I realise how tightly I’m clutching onto him, and I quickly let him go. “Sorry,” I say, brushing my tears away with the back of my hand. “I’m sorry.”

Willy shakes his head. “No you don’t need to be sorry. It’s not your fault you had to experience all of that. It’s perfectly natural to have nightmares about it.”

He gets to his feet. “I’m going to just grab my suitcase, and I’m going to make you something.”

I ease myself back onto my pillows, trying to hold onto the feeling of relaxation I feel while in Willy’s arms a little longer. “Okay.”

He disappears, and quickly returns with his case, which he sets on my desk. He sits down, rummages for a while, and soon enough, comes back over to me with two items. A mug, and a small piece of chocolate.

Willy sits gingerly on the edge of my bed. “Hot chocolate,” he says, handing me the mug, “for obvious reasons.”

“Hot chocolate is the world's best beverage invention,” I quote him, a small smile playing around my mouth.

Willy nods, and grins, and holds out his palm. On it lies a little circular chocolate, silvery blue in colour. Right in the middle is a little symbol of a… snake? No, two snakes, intertwined around a little stick.

A caduceus, I think. The ancient Greek symbol of medicine.

I pick up the chocolate, holding it carefully between my fingers. “What is it?”

Willy shrugs. “Try it and see.”

I pop it into my mouth, chewing slowly. Instantly, I feel a strange but delicious feeling crawling all over me,

I swallow, and the warm feeling only spreads further. Everything inside of me seems to relax, like melted chocolate and a smile has been injected into all my muscles and nerves.

“What is this?” I ask, looking up at him. For the first time since he came in, I really notice how tired he looks. His eyes are slightly glazed-over, his curls are unkempt and messily splayed across his forehead. His shirt is rumpled, but his smile is still as bright as it always is.

“It’s… uh, just something I made for you.” He looks away as he answers.

I laugh lightly. “Well, of course. But what is it?”

My best friend glances back at me. “Love,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s love.”

I have no idea why or how, but just his words fill me with more warmth and joy than any amount of chocolate ever could.

“I love you,” Willy says.

“I love you too,” I admit slowly, my eyes suddenly too shy to look at him. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He smiles, and I’m sure it’s brighter than the sun itself. “I’m glad.” He leans forward and presses his mouth to mine, and I swear, sugary sweets couldn’t compare at all.

#wonka #willy wonka #wonka x reader #willy wonka x reader #wonka 2023 #willy wonka movie #wonka movie #wonka movie 2023 #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #fanfiction #fanfic

551 notes · View notes

erideights · 7 months

Text

Little pieces here and there (5)

Pairing: Buggy x Fem!Reader (One Piece Live Action)

Chapters: one, two, three, four

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: light flirting, light metion of sex, a lot of feelings, super fluff (in their particular way)

A/N: I'M BACK WITH THE NEW AND LAST (????) CHAPTER OF THE SERIES AFTER AN HIATUS WEEK. I wanted to post something good, something beautiful, true to the characters and the story you all enjoyed reading as much as i writing! (sorry for the possible grammatical mistakes!)

Side note: this chapter is to be read with different time frames, so changing the lights of the room and their resting positions in bed!

"Say it."

"Nope."

"Why not!?" he whines, his beautiful dove eyes pleading. "C'mon baby. Say it. I deserve it. All the awards. All the honors." The fact he’s beneath her, trapped between her body and the mattress, doesn't help make him look less submissive. She has to admit, it’s extremely pleasant to see how his dignified ass drags himself for her.

"But it would be a lie," she says, sticking out her tongue in a gesture intended to make him suffer a little more. Unbelievable that this is the same man who forced her to beg for sex a couple of hours ago. "and I’m no liar."

''Didn't seem like a lie to me when you were moaning my name and cumming on my cock for the third time some minutes ago.'' Ah, there it is, his ego is back again. Or at least, a glimpse of it. Took a while to appear.

In front of him, (Y/N) just smiles devilishly, which makes Buggy growl and look at her with pleading eyes again. "Look, we already established I know and even like how you need to play difficult, it's part of your charisma, but I need to hear it, okay? I will give you anything your wayward, fussy heart could desire. Consider it a prize."

''Anything?''

''Anything.''

Hmm. She plays along, and pretends to think about it for long, torturous seconds, shaking her head from side to side in slowmo, taking a deep breath.

As expected, soon enough she decides to give in-- she’s satisfied after making him beg in her own particular way.

''Fine.'' She takes a breath and starts her dramatic performance, with one hand on her own chest, eyes closed. ''Oh, Buggy, you were right, you are the best lover I’ve ever had, thanks to you my soul has ascended and I have seen the One Piece.''

That is not the praise he was expecting about his sexual skills. Not even close. But was so /him/, so dramatic, exaggerated, and incredibly hilarious, that despite faking offense on his face, eyes half-closed, lips pressed together, fingers pinching her hips as punishment, he has to admit -he will not-, was funny.

''You're a moron'' That’s about everything he has to say on the matter.

‘’Like Ol’Axe-Hand?’’ She asks, raising an eyebrow, hoping he gets it. And of course he does. He's so surprised that he widens his eyes, smirking. Is she actually admitting how incredibly funny he is? ''You still remember that joke?''

''Was so bad it stuck with me since then like a fucking nightmare.'' Hit and sunk.

''Ouch''

"Don't worry, there's still time to improve the quality of your jokes. But for now I'll take the prize you promised.''

''Ugh, fine. What do you want?’' Buggy thinks he knows (Y/N), so he’s convinced she will ask for something impossible. A challenge that will ridicule him or an astronomical sum of money. ''If what you want are berries I’m sorry to inform you, sunshine, I'm broke, I still have to find...'' but the clown shuts himself when he feels the girl's fingers slowly caressing his sharp jaw, finally pulling him by his chin towards her. He leans in too, eyes fixed on her lips, yearning for the kiss he can see so clearly written in the dreamy way she looks at him.

There’s no need to announce it, nor to start it with their usual flirting or provocations. It's slow and doesn't demand anything at all, nor is intended to be the trigger of their next round.

It's just a kiss. Something so simple and intrinsically complex at the same time. And in the same way as if it had been the most fiery and passionate of his life, as not long ago, this kiss leaves him breathless, unable to form a single coherent thought that has nothing to do with her.

Oh, he’s down bad. Just like she is.

…

And there they are on the mattress, she’s sitting on his lap, legs around him, his hands on her hips, hers on his abdomen in a relaxed pose. The scene is typical of two lovers who have known each other for a lifetime -or at least for years- and not of two people who just had the wildest sex of their lives less than a couple hours ago. For the first time.

They tell each other anecdotes, surreal stories, and laugh together inside that little bubble they don't even know how it was created, where it came from, or how the hell it could have absorbed them so much, making them completely ignore the outside world.

"What do you mean a giant bird!?" she screams in laughter, her stomach hurting, her lungs burning. "Aha, yeah, laugh all you want but imagine thinking that you’re about to die turned into damn bird feed. It would fucking piss me off."

As it can’t be otherwise, (Y/N) ends up laughing until she cries with the story of how Buggy arrived at Loguetown, and the clown finds himself exaggerating his story more and more with each laugh he manages to get from the girl, eager to hear it again, knowing he’s the only cause of this beautiful melody.

It’s absurd how he would love -kill- to know more about her, ‘cause if he stops to think about it, he doesn't know this woman at all. He knows nothing beyond her name, her crew, and the fact that she has a bold sense of humor. She’s brave and sarcastic, keen, sharp, and much more intelligent and savvy than -in his opinion- all the idiots around her.

And this is how and when he realizes the post-nut clarity theory hasn't worked for him. Getting her out of his twisted mind will not be as easy as fucking her a couple times, get his needed ton of personal satisfaction from making her beg for him, and moving on to the next thing to do/achieve on his list.

Goddamnhim.

"Alright, as much as I love and enjoy being the main character, it's time for you to drop your femme fatale facade and show me who you truly are."

"Awh,’’ she smiles tenderly, reaching for one of his cheeks. ‘’you see me like a femme fatale? That's so cute."

"Cut the crap.’’ The clown slaps her hand away, not in a violent way, but offended. ‘’You're not easily intimidated and I noticed you're good with knives too. That's sexy, and it makes me curious as hell about what you did before you joined those shitty heads."

Fair enough, she would be curious too, so she thinks about it, a bit wary of talking about her private life because there is a part of her that prefers to keep it intact -in case she wants to come back to it-. However, she reasons, mentioning what she did without being very specific doesn’t reveal anything at all. It would piss her off if Buggy casually knows her mercenary name -by which she’s fairly known among marines and pirates alike- and connects some dots all of a sudden.

Is he actually that smart?

"I was a mercenary." She says calmly, shrugging her shoulders. "With that angelic face?" He retorts in disbelief, raising both eyebrows, even though he knows it fits her personality just right. "You'd be surprised what you're capable of with it."

"No, no, I actually believe you." He cracks an amused smile, looking directly into her eyes after carefully scanning her face. ''I mean, If someone like you tried to sneak onto my ship I would know it’s a trap, either to kill me or to steal from me but I would end up saying ''whatever you say beautiful'' and would actually let you do your thing.''

He's an idiot but still, once again, he manages to make her laugh. “Looking like that, anyone would give you anything,” he adds because he is, in fact and undoubtedly, willing to give her a little more of himself. More time and more attention, because he should definitely be out there gathering his crew -only God knows what they'll be doing- and figuring out how to get to the Grand Line without a damn map.

The idea of asking her, or even suggesting she steals it for him, doesn't even cross his mind. Not even after having shared this /intimate/ afternoon together. He knows she won't do it, she doesn’t own him shit, she’s not one of these women who fall in love and suddenly do everything, and leave everything behind, for the man of their dreams.

And of course Buggy can see the way she looks at him, without an ounce of contempt or distaste for his extravagant appearance or the atrocities he's sure she knows he's committed and of which he's not one bit ashamed. She sees him as he is and still, she’s here, offering him back something as valuable as her time and company.

But she won't give him more, he is aware of that. That's why he didn't offer (Y/N) to run away with him when he escaped from Arlong Park, because as much as she enjoys his company and maybe, just maybe, the clown imagines, feels something for him, he has the impression she’s a disgustingly loyal person, to her principles and her people, and as much as she likes to flirt with him, she would have said no.

He must admit, that's also how he likes her. Strong, capable, independent. He would kill no matter who to have her by his side as part of his crew, although he knows it won't happen. He would settle, however, with the -hypothetical- opportunity to meet from time to time on the high seas or on any random island. To sneak away from their crews in secret, to disappear for a few hours in which all his attention, his entire being, could focus on her, lower the curtain just a little, leave the spotlight behind and relax.

There is a small part of him, the one that makes him unable to stop looking intensely at her with those blue eyes that mirrors his own soul, that truly hopes she feels the same.

…

''You know'' she starts, absently stroking his hair, the clown's head in her lap. ''I imagine-- no, I know the whole nose topic is a sensitive thing for you but honestly, it shouldn't-- big noses are incredibly attractive, and yours? Believe me, anyone would want to sit on it.’’

What.

He's so taken aback by the suddenness of the comment he completely forgets what they were talking about before and on top of that, he's unable to reply for some seconds, looking at her like she just started speaking in another, incomprehensible language.

He ends up raising an eyebrow, running his tongue over his red lips. ''Including you?''

''Including me''

''Well, sunshine, today's your lucky day then'' Sitting up, in a blink of her eyes he turns, catches the girl's hips and drags her with him, lying down, leaving her sitting on his chest while he rest his head on the pillow. Buggy winks at her, licking his lips again, this time cheekily rather than thoughtfully. “I’m about to make another one of your dreams come true.”

''Horny bastard.'' she whispers, swallowing saliva. What a view, having him between her legs again. ''Never denied, sweetheart'' with a low, erotic, and breathtaking laugh, he surrounds both her thighs with his arms and pulls her body up in a quick movement, causing a sudden brush of his nose against the inside of her thigh.

(Y/N) shudders and takes a deep breath, spreading her legs a little further as she settles them on the pillow. ''Show me what else you can do, captain.'' To that he just groans, already getting hard with just having her on top of his face and her way of talking to him, pushing his buttons just the right way.

In no time she’s a complete, total, and absolute mess, writhing with pleasure. Hands grabbing his hair, hips rocking over his mouth, forcing his nose to rub against her clitoris, she softly moans his name, an occasional insult or any other possible blasphemy.

''Oh, fuck-- Buggy.''

…

Worn off makeup all around her body, sun setting, long hours spent together in which they have told funny, long stories about each other's life and of course, in which they have ended up letting free -once again- that suffocating sexual tension that attracts them to the other like a month to a lamp. Buggy, surprisingly, ends up letting his guard down to the point where he falls asleep, and not long after, he starts snoring.

(Y/N) knows, it's time to leave and look for her friends. She also knows she warned them about her obsession with the city and that the chances of her getting lost were high, and in that case they should not worry about her, blablabla, because she would come back sooner or later. She didn’t even remotely expect the reason for her disappearance would be a self-declared enemy -Luffy’s enemy- of her crew, tho. Neither was she going to spend so much time away from them to be with him.

The excuses she will need to cover her tracks are endless, and a pain in the ass without even started to think about them yet.

Will Zoro still be lost somewhere on the island? Because she obviously assumed, he got lost as soon as they split.

Still in bed, she takes a moment to calmly look at him. (Y/N) is aware of how this may be the last time they ever see each other, and -not- surprisingly, this thought sparks a pang of sadness in her. She really likes him. She wouldn't say she is in love with him, because those are big words and they barely know each other yet, but... he was right, the chemistry between the two was something impossible to deny. And it hasn't weakened, nor disappeared a single bit after sex. Quite the opposite-- It has become something more, a kind of deep and sincere fondness that in this precise moment, dark outside, distant voices over the window from drunkards and bastards around the streets, his breathing calm for a fraction of second, his eyes closed and the fresh breeze that enters the room, invites her to caress his blue hair while he sleeps, sighing.

It’s been a long, long time since (Y/N)’d enjoyed this kind of genuine, absolute peace, sharing with someone she cares about, a room where time does not exist and life is just a thought instead of reality.

Part of her wishes or better said, acknowledges, she would stay here the entire night if she could. The other says that’s ridiculous, and that those are her hormones talking and nothing else. It would pass.

But does she want it to pass? To fade away?

Finally getting out of bed -all her willpower at once- after long minutes in which she simply memorizes every possible detail around her, she begins to retrieve her clothes scattered throughout the room and get dressed in silence, trying not to wake him up.

Through all this process, in the depths of her head resonates a single thought, ringing as loud and strong as an alarm. She’s unable to shut it up. She can’t ignore it either. It's another kind of thought she shouldn't have, and at the same time… feels so natural, so logical, she doesn't feel guilty for having it.

But should she listen to it? Should she follow it?

Taking a seat in the chair that fulfilled its great purpose a few hours ago, she sighs, again, head resting on her hand, elbow on the table. With a small smile, her eyes fall back on that ridiculous, snoring clown. And then, she just knows.

Reaching to a little secret pocket in her pants, she takes out a small piece of folded paper and starts to open it slowly, being careful to not tear it apart, leaving it on the table of the room once the copy of the map of the Grand Line can be perfectly seen. When (Y/N) suggested her crew make a couple of copies in case something happened to the original, she never thought she would use hers like this, but she doesn't regret it in the slightest.

Biting the tip of her tongue, her eyes scan the partially darkened room, jumping from side to side. When she finally finds what she was looking for, she leans over the table, and taking the pen from the inkwell, she writes in the upper right corner of the map "I will be waiting for you right here, come find me" .

If someone asked her why she does this, why she feels this, why does she decide to ignore her common sense and give something so important to someone as -objectively- miserable as him, she would simply answer that there are things… or better said-- not things, but the little pieces here and there, pieces of himself left in her during conversations, shared glances, laughter, flirts, light touches and the deep strong ones that came after those. It's the way he tried to make her laugh at all costs or how he didn't give up trying to win her over. Those blue eyes so intense she would swear, they reached her soul, or the small, genuine smile she knows she has seen this same afternoon, really far from the forced, crooked, exaggerated ones he usually has.

It is all of this and much more, and opening the door of the room, closing it again so that no one disturbs Buggy while she escapes the building and heads to her ship to find her crew, she knows she can't wait to see him again.

She knows she will. Her sixth sense tells her so.

#the gif is an spoiler of the morning after #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #buggy the clown fanfiction #buggy x you #op buggy #one piece live action #one piece x reader #captain buggy #buggy x reader

574 notes · View notes