All Over Again

[Summary]: Paternity leave has its effects on Jungkook. After his first day back at work, he can't help but show you how much he doesn't want to go back.

[Theme]: Dad!Jk, CEO!Jk, Married Couple AU, Parent's AU

[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes. Marking, kissing, nipple play, creampie, unprotected (wrap it up y'all), dom!JK, mentions of another pregnancy, talks of pregnancy and getting pregnant, etc.

[Word Count]: 4,274

[A/N]: This is a pure result of the urge my body suddenly gets to want a child right before my period smh. Anyway, felt cute, might delete later once I am sane.

It’s been a long ass day. Jungkook’s white button-up feels stapled to his skin, his pants folding uncomfortably with every step he makes as he exits his office. A long finger comes up to his neck, digging underneath his striped tie, wiggling it a little to loosen the chokehold it has around his neck. His other hand feels bound to his briefcase, which carries so much importance in his life but yet so much burden at the same time.

It’s his first day back at work after his baby boy was born. The briefcase he holds reminds him of the duty he has to his family — of his passion and his support for you and your baby. But it also reminds him of the time it has ripped away from spending with you. He clutches it with so much strength at the thought of you, pulling his car keys out of his pocket and pressing the unlock button so hard, that he thinks he almost might just break it.

With a deep breath, he takes off his tie and tosses it in the passenger seat along with his briefcase. He’s ready to go home. That picture of you, him, and your son that you insisted on framing and Jungkook bringing to work has been a constant reminder of what he has to look forward to at the end of the day. If only his paternity leave could have been longer. You and his son are all he’s been able to think about. How you were doing, if you needed his help, if Jaemun was being feisty, how the cute crinkle on his nose resembles yours to a T.

It’s late January, and the winter air is unforgiving. He wonders if you have the heat on high enough; if Jaemun had enough blankets, or if the tip of your nose was cold like how it always is in the winter months. He can imagine you holding him close, swaddling him as you sing to him delicately. The thought makes his whole body warm, even though the air is so cold that it feels like glass is cutting against his skin.

He’s convinced he will take more time off. He’s the CEO, after all. He could take months off and it not matter. He wants to be with you always — at all times of the day to hold you and be there for you like he should be. If only the world had been that easy to where passions didn’t have a price. He got lucky, his passion having a heavy penny attached to it. But he wonders where that passion took something more valuable away from him — time. He finds himself now strapped between the choice of time and passion, and he fights the fact that he cannot choose both.

The door to your home is welcoming to his eyes as he pulls up to it. It’s not big by any means. Just homey and enough for the three of you. Even with the snow covering almost every inch of it, the reminder of how warm it is on the inside makes his drive to enter it even greater. He does so with a shiver, coming up to your shared home with a stomp of his boots to shake off the snow just before he enters.

To his surprise, he’s met with hushed music coming from the kitchen as he puts his winter coat on the hook, places his briefcase on the wooden floor, and shimmies out of his shoes. He looks at his watch first, making sure it’s not Jaemun’s nap time, to which he finds out it is. The soft music makes sense now, and he smiles when he makes his way down the hallway to the source of the noise.

The rest of the house is dark except for the kitchen-living room area that you and your baby rest in. Jaemun is peacefully sleeping in his bassinet by the couch, cuddling his dinosaur blanket, while you are by the stove, stirring something.

You look over your shoulder at the sound of familiar footsteps, and your heart immediately softens at the sight of your husband in the doorframe. He smiles back tiredly, running his hand through his hair in an exhausted attempt to pull himself together before he makes his way over to you. He looks relieved, like he’s finally received what he’s wanted all day. You’re happy to see him, knowing all too well that that’s what you’ve been waiting for all day, too.

Big, warm hands slide around your waist, a heavy chin rests on your shoulder as he kisses your cheek softly. He takes a deep breath, breathing in your presence as he releases the tension from work off his shoulders. You tend to have an instant effect on him — he missed you so much.

“You’re stirring water?” he laughs as he stares at the pot of water on the stove, unboiled, as you stir it as if it is.

“I’m trying to get it to boil quicker,” you explain with a defeated sigh. “Doesn’t seem to be working. I feel like I’ve been standing here for 20 minutes.”

He hums from behind you, taking your stirring hand and stopping your motions. You’ve never been a big cooker, but he knows you’ve been trying lately. “Just let it be, love. It’ll get there.”

You do as he says, putting the ladle down on the countertop and turning around in his embrace. You wrap your arms around his neck, staring at the tall man who holds you close against him. You’re met with a tired Jungkook who rests his forehead against yours as you play with the hairs at the back of his head.

“How was work?” you ask gently.

He groans, wrapping his hands around your waist and holding you tighter against him. It causes you to rest your cheek on his shoulder, hugging him in full.

“That bad?” you chuckle.

Your husband just sighs against your neck. “It’s too early to go back, Y/n,” he candors.

You tuck a strand of hair that fell in front of his face behind his ear. “We’re ok, Kook,” you comfort. But he only shakes his head, making the tucked strand fall out of its place again.

“I’m not,” he says. “I want to be here with you. Spend time with Jaemun before he’s suddenly 25.”

You chuckle at that. It does feel like that sometimes. It’s been three months since your son was born, but it feels like it was just yesterday that you were holding him for the first time.

You can only hold his cheek in response, running your thumb slowly against his soft skin. You feel for him, you really do. He’s such a good father. It makes your heartstrings tug and twist and pull every time you see him with your little boy. It’s only a matter of time before you have to go back to work as well. The thought makes your stomach turn, and you can completely sympathize with your husband dreading going back to work and leaving you and Jaemun.

“Your water is boiling,” he breaks you out of your daze.

“Oh,” you turn around. You smile, knowing he was right before. “I’m making pasta if that sounds ok?”

Jungkook kisses your neck in response, a gentle thing that has your tummy flipping for a second.

“You could also probably wake up our son,” you check the time on the microwave. “He’s been a little sleepy today, so I let his nap go for a little longer than usual.”

You add the pasta in and turn the water down, moving over to the greens left on the cutting board. You start chopping until your husband’s lips move lower.

“Our son,” he whispers, kissing your collarbone. The statement makes him jittery. It feels unreal still, even after nine months of waiting, and another three of actually having your little family here with him. You’re his wife, the mother of his kid, and he loves you more than anything in the world. You gave him something he can never find an equivalent to giving back to you. You gave him your heart and a family, and there’s nothing that can replace or overcome what that means to him. His soul lives for yours; it’s overwhelming what you’ve done for him. It’s overwhelming how you make him feel.

He kisses your collarbone softly once again, his heart full. You tilt your head to the side for more, and he gives it to you, kissing up your neck with slow wet kisses.

“Kook,” you exhale gently. You feel him hum against the skin just under your ear. Large palms cup your waist, his body moving closer to yours, trapping your hips against the countertop. Your knife feels loose in your hand when he bites at your skin gently, his tongue brushing over the bite mark afterward.

He stirs something within you. Something that you’ve missed terribly for the past few months. It makes your thighs tremble as he gently caresses your skin under his fingertips.

“The baby—“ you begin, but Jungkook’s motions cut you off yet again when his fingers slowly slide down your front. He’s unsure, his hand hesitating over your skin as his breath stops momentarily in thought.

“Is this okay?” He asks you genuinely. You nearly fall to your knees, dropping your knife onto the board, when his fingers put pressure over your clothed mound. It’s subtle, and much more gentle than what you’re used to with him. You know he’s being cautious, but god did you miss him. “If it’s too much, I’ll pull away.”

You shake your head.

It’s been a long time since the two of you have gotten intimate. Childbirth wasn’t easy, and your doctor just recently gave you two the “ok” for sex. The first time you tried since then wasn’t like what you’re used to with your husband. It was slow and painful, ending with a lot of apologies, embarrassment, and frustration. It’s safe to say that you have to get used to sex all over again.

“No,” you lean against him. “J-Just be gentle. I’m still a little sore.”

“Ok,” he whispers against your neck, kissing it softly. “Just relax for me, baby. I’ll make it feel good, I promise.”

You nod, loosening your nervous shoulders as your husband takes control. He stops swiftly for a second, turning the stove on the lowest setting before looking over his shoulder at his son to ensure he’s still fast asleep. Once he sees that he is, he immediately returns to you.

“So good for me,” he says, slowly circling your clit over your sweats. His other hand squeezes your waist before it moves up, sliding under your shirt and trickling over your breast. You’re wearing a soft bra today—one without an underwire—which makes it easier for him to slide his fingers under.

You whimper when he softly massages your boob, his fingers playing with your nipples gently. Your body, especially your breasts, has become 10x more sensitive since birth. You can feel everything, and everything either hurts or feels really really good. Whenever your husband seems to hold them, you’re a whimpering mess, melting like putty in his arms as he plays with you.

“Sensitive,” Jungkook smiles. His fingers rub harder against you, and you subtly buck your hips against him. His lips graze against your skin, his hair tickling your collarbone as he assaults your neck over and over again. 

“You’re so cute when you’re pregnant,” he rasps against your cheek before planting a sweet kiss upon it. “Wanna see you like that all the time. So full of me — carrying our babies.”

“Jungkook, I—” you whine, grasping onto his wrist. You’re unsure what to do with yourself, wanting him to do so much to you, but not knowing where to start.

The man behind you takes his hand away from your mound, and he chuckles when you whine in protest. But his thumbs hook on your pants and underwear, slowly pulling them down.

“Relax, baby,” he asks again. “I told you, I’m gonna take care of you. Don’t worry.”

His hand slides around your waist again, smoothing over your skin until it’s sliding between your folds. The back of your hand comes up to your mouth as your other grips the countertop for support as he plays with you.

“So wet,” he moans, feeling the effect he’s had on you with his fingers. “This all for me? I’ve barely touched you yet.”

You nod, feeling completely at the mercy of the man behind you. His other hand plays with your nipple again, and you feel another wave of euphoria go straight to your pussy.

His fingers gather your slick generously, smoothing it over your clit before circling it gently. He plays infinities over it, making your knees go weak. It’s getting harder to stay quiet, especially when he pinches your nipple gently, making you gasp at the soreness and pleasure it causes.

“K-Kook,” you whine, but he only chuckles, quickening his motions on your clit as he presses further into you. You can feel his dick strained against his work pants, and the thought of him inside you again makes you feel so needy for him. “Want you,” you pant. “Please.”

“Patience,” he shushes you, kissing your neck surely. “I haven’t even made you cum yet.”

“Wanna cum with you,” you whine in protest.

“You will,” he promises.

You gasp as he switches his finger, his thumb trading places with his middle. It circles over you just the same, except this time, it’s joined by his middle finger slowly inserting itself between your folds.

“Oh,” you exhale, feeling weak when he pumps it in and out of you slowly.

He lets himself test your reactions, seeing if the insertion is too much — if it hurts or feels uncomfortable. It doesn’t seem to be, and he slowly lets his ring finger join with his middle, causing you to roll your eyes back slightly.

“So good for me, baby,” he encourages. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” you reply almost immediately.

He kisses your neck. His lips leave hot, wet marks all over your skin as he curls his fingers against your g-spot. His other hand quickly comes to your waist, stabilizing you as you whimper against the back of your hand, trying your best to keep quiet.

He circles his thumb faster, his fingers circling and brushing against your g-spot in tandem with his movements. You feel your orgasm looming over you, and with a certain pressure against your clit, you’re coming undone just as he said you would all over his fingers.

“There you are,” he coaxes you. You’re a whimpering mess, and he feels his dick twitch at the sight of you falling apart on his fingers. He helps you ride out your high, his fingers very gently brushing over your clit as you come down.

Once you're calmed down, you reach around you, playing with his belt loop as you rest your head on his shoulder and look up at him. He looks back down, hesitating again knowing what you want but unsure if it’s too much for you to handle yet.

“What,” he smiles teasingly with a kiss to your forehead.

“I want you,” you candor, looking at up him with pleading eyes.

He kisses your nose. “Are you sure? You said it hurt last time.”

You nod. “Please, Koo,” you beg him.

His chest rises, and he takes a deep breath before he nods, kissing you gently as he unbuckles his belt. He places it on the counter before unzipping himself and pulling his pants down. It springs up, pressing itself against your skin gently. But he takes himself in his hands, hesitantly letting it slide down over your folds. 

“Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?” He says, lining himself up to you with a few strokes of his cock. God, was he nervous. The last time sex hurt really bad for you, and that was just a week ago. He wonders if the prep was enough; he hopes it was, he really doesn’t want to hurt you again.

You nod, holding onto the countertop again as his tip rubs against your entrance. Your coat his cock in such slickness, even you’re surprised at how much you leak onto him. You miss your husband. You need this bad, and so does he.

“Oh, and try to stay quiet, yeah?” He says with a push of his hips. The motion has him covering your mouth with his hand, shielding your moans quickly. “The baby is still sleeping.”

His dick slips past your folds so smoothly, it has you gasping for breath at how good it feels. It’s nothing like the last time. He’s gentler, but still so so big, he fills you up just right.

“Fuck,” he whispers against your neck once he sheathes himself fully inside of you. The man behind you stills, completely overwhelmed with the feeling of you. He, too feels like he’s had to relearn sex all over again. How to please you right now that your body has changed, how to make sure that you are comfortable with his pace and size. You two haven’t had sex like this in so long, he feels overwhelmed when you feel almost too good for him to control. A part of him is embarrassed by how quickly he thinks he’s going to last. 

“How are you still so tight, hm?” he asks with a firm grip on your hip. “Y-You okay?”

You can only nod, pushing your hips down against him. The motion forces him further into you, to which both of you grunt at the feeling.

Testingly, Jungkook pulls out slowly, before pushing back into you a little quicker than before. You coat him generously, creating a motion that makes it easy for him to repeat. 

He develops a pace, fucking you against the kitchen countertop with your juices leaking all over his cock and down your thighs. The stove is on and your baby still sleeps; there are uncut vegetables in front of you and your husband still wears his work shirt. But he fucks you as if none of that matters. As if his only priority is to make sure you feel good, to let yourself go as he fuck you deep and just how you like it. 

His hand comes off from your mouth and settles on your hip. His other hand wraps around your front, holding you impossibly close against his body.

You moan softly when he bends you over slightly against the countertop, the new angle making it hard for you to stay quiet. But you push your hips against him anyway, telling him without words to go deeper.

The action causes him to moan, following your request with a snap of his hips.

“You like it that much, hm?” He grunts, cock ramming into you. “Like it when I knock you up good?”

“Y-Yes!” You whisper. “I love it so much, Koo.”

“Y-yeah?” He leans over you. A tattooed hand cups over yours, palm embracing the back of your hand as he intertwines his fingers with yours. “Gonna let me do it again?”

“Mmhm,” you squeeze his fingers. “As many times as y-you want.”

“A-Ah,” he pants, mind going into a frenzy over your words. The fact that he is yours, that you are his. That only he can hear you say that. That only he can make you feel this good. That only he has the privilege of calling you his wife. It makes his heart warm and his cock twitch. 

“God, I’m going to ruin you if you say things like that, Y/n,” he warns. But you are relentless, leaning your head back on his shoulder, giving yourself to him further. 

“W-Want you to,” you whimper. “I love you.” 

Your legs shake, completely weak from your past orgasm and your new one forming at the pit of your stomach. His cock makes you feel so full, like you’re stretched to the max capacity as he fucks you good. You know he’s close when his dick twitches inside of you after your words, which only encourages you to gain some strength and begin fucking yourself back on his cock.

“Mm, fuck,” he grips your hips tightly. “M’ gonna cum.”

He quickly reaches around you again, drawing infinities over your clit with his middle finger. His eyes roll back as your cunt naturally tightens at the feeling. Your hips jolt and the knots in your tummy slowly start to unravel themselves onto his dick as you come undone. Just as he had promised, with a final twitch, he’s cumming inside of you with hot, thick ropes filling you up with whispered exhales of your name on his lips.

He lets the two of you catch your breath, his forehead resting on your shoulder before he’s pulling out, shared cum leaking down your thighs and onto the floor. Quickly, he grabs a paper towel from the roll next to the stove and cleans you up a little.

With gentle hands, he helps you back into your sweats before he helps himself into his boxers. He still lingers behind you when he reaches a hand around you and turns the stove on a higher setting once again. 

You turn around, wrapping your hands around his neck as you pull him in for a much-needed kiss. “I love you,” you whisper against him again. His hair falls onto your skin, dark locks intertangling with yours as his fingers come up to hold your face against his. Soft lips sear over yours, telling you things that simply cannot be put into words. 

“I love you, too,” he brushes his nose against yours. “Was that okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

You pause, looking up at his dilated pupils. He looks at you like you're his world; like he's given you his heart with the full intent of never receiving it back from you. You nod, kissing him softly again. 

“You should probably wake up your son now,” you poke his cheek.

Looking at the time on the microwave, he snaps out of his daze. “Oh fuck,” he says as his fingers leave your side. You watch him leave you with a chuckle, turning back to your pasta wondering how in the world you go so lucky to marry and mother a kid to this man. You’d truly give him anything he wanted. 

***

[Bonus]

With gentle hands, so big against his baby’s frame, he picks Jaemun up in his arms, holding him against his chest. His dinosaur blanket swaddles him softly, and Jungkook does his best to make sure he’s correctly supported and held despite the extra fabric over his small frame. 

Jaemun stirs, and Jungkook places a soft kiss on his tiny head before he gets the chance to freak out and cry. The baby seems to know exactly who is holding him, and he nearly falls back asleep at the familiarity of his father’s arms. But Jungkook bounces him against his chest softly, slowly waking him up for dinnertime.

He makes his way over to you, making unnecessary airplane noises, from what you assume is Jungkook pretending to be an airplane and his son the passenger.

“You know, babies can’t laugh until they’re about 4 months,” you shake your head with a laugh.

“False,” your husband comes behind you again. “I swear he’s laughed before.”

You chuckle, taking the pan off the stove and pouring the insides into a strainer. Just the noodles are left in the strainer now, and you realize that you haven’t thought past the part of boiling the noodles. You ignore that you have no idea what kind of pasta you’re making when Jungkook rests himself against the kitchen island. 

Jaemun catches sight of you, and his arm reaches for you in Jungkook’s hold. You come over, giving him a kiss on the forehead before kissing your husband.

“Were you serious?” your husband asks you suddenly. 

“About?” you raise your eyebrow. 

“You know,” he gulps, holding Jaemun a little tighter. He rests against Jungkook's shoulder, his eyes tempting to fall back asleep again. “More kids.” 

You raise both your eyebrows again, looking at him as if he was serious. His heart beats faster when he realizes what you’re thinking, quickly rephrasing himself. 

“N-Not now, of course,” he gulps. 

You turn around, opening the fridge for some milk for Jaemun as you listen to him. You take out a pot, take the cased breast milk from earlier, and pour it in, turning on the stove afterward. 

“I just mean, like, in the future,” he explains.

There’s a long pause as you wait for the pot to heat up enough. The man behind you is weak, and you don’t know if you want to be mean and give him the blunt answer, or soften the blow. Watching how he cradles your son makes you want to go with the first choice. 

“Don’t you worry Jeon,” you start, as you stir the contents in the pot. You can hear him gulp behind you. “I planned on giving you as many babies as you want. But at least wait until Jaemun is in pre-school or something. I don’t think I can handle two infants at once.” 

You hear little from him at your answer, leaving you smirking knowing full well that you put the man behind you in a frenzy imagining the future you just laid out for him.

***

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]

Interrupted

Summary: You accidentally walk in on Leah and Lia, and it's safe to say your traumatised.

Warnings: Suggestive (Mentions of what R saw when they walked in)

A/N: Thank you for all your requests, I have started writing them, and continue to work on other fics (for both requests and non-requests). Also this is only short but I hope you like it.

You walked down the hallway, heading for Leah’s room, more specifically her bathroom. Your period was meant to start today so you wanted to put a tampon in, however you had none in your bathroom as you took them all with you when you moved to Spain and completely forgot to pack any, so you were planning on using one of hers. To say opening that door was the biggest regret of your life is an understatement, your eyes were only opened for half a second if that, yet the image of the scene in front of you managed to ingrain itself into your brain. The view of your sister’s head in Lia’s lap at 8 am was disturbing to say the least. You quickly ran, well more like speed walked due to the fact you had a moon boot on, to your room, grabbing your bag and heading out the door, calling Viv immediately.

“Viv, Beth, please pick me up, I’m walking in the direction of your house from ours, I will explain later, I just can’t see Leah right now or maybe never,” you said in a voice laced with shock and horror.

“What happened?” Viv asked as the look of complete horror was still plastered on your face. Beth smirked, as she looked at her phone, clearly just receiving a message from Leah.

“Why don’t you tell Viv here, Y/N/N” she said, as she continued to smirk.

“I-I-I walked in on them, her-her-her head was, no please don’t remind me,” you shuddered, “also can we go to the store? I need tampons, that’s why I um, yeah” you said quickly.

“Sure, then we’ll go back to ours and have breakfast before we head to training,” you nodded your head, Barça had allowed to go back to London for a week, more specifically Arsenal as your recovery was going well, the only condition was that you continued your rehab at Arsenal, which you were doing. Surprisingly being at Arsenal didn’t make you sad that you had left, but instead was making you miss Barca, you enjoyed being at Arsenal but it was no longer your home and so it felt slightly different.

____

“Where’s your sister and Lia?” Katie asked smirking, “Don’t tease her like that,” Steph said walking in. 

“Wait how do you all know,” “Leah messaged the group chat, saying she thinks she just traumatised you and you left, asking if any of us knew where you were. Beth then replied and said maybe next time lock the door."

_

“Good Morning Bug,” Leah said as she walked into the locker room going in for a hug, you quickly swerved and ducked under her arm. 

“Nope, not good morning” you said as you looked at the ground, briefly glancing up to see Lia’s face bright red.

“It is partly your fault, you know, you’re the one who opened the door.”

“It’s my fault? I’m not the ones who were being disturbingly quiet, with an unlocked door,” everyone's heads tilted to the side as they looked at the two women who couldn’t find any words to speak.

____

“Alexia, please promise me that you will forever lock the door when you’re doing something I shouldn’t walk in on,” you cried out as you walked through the door of the house, not realising that the rest of the team was also there.

“So it is true then,” Alexia smirked, and all the others laughed.

“Actually that goes for all of you." You stop and point at all of them around the room. "Lock. The. Doors." You look at them, not quite sure they all let the message sink in "Doors = Locked. Do you understand?” They all nodded in amusement.

Damn Your Eyes [Chapter One] [Yandere Ren Hana x Reader]

Title: Damn Your Eyes [Chapter One: The Last Day] [Yandere Ren Hana x Reader]

Synopsis: Years ago, you were the captive of a serial killer named Strade. And you weren't the only one he kept. After Strade was killed by one of his victims, you ran away--and now your past is finally catching up with you. Chapter one is set during Boyfriend to Death.

Word count: 6352

Chapter notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, past noncon, graphic violence, descriptions of blood, violence and gore, descriptions of death (not reader)

AO3 LINK

She was crying again. Well, no wonder. There were holes in her feet, dotting the top of her thighs. Blood had dribbled down from the gored holes in her flesh like little streams, then dried out. 

The thin, wavy dried out trickles made you think, abruptly, of unfettered period blood, then of Carrie by Stephen King. The scene in the shower, where she gets her period and freaks out. The other girls threw tampons and sticky pads at her and shrieked, chanting, bonded by a morbid commiseration of the entrance to so-called womanhood: Plug it up! Plug it up! Plug it up!

Plug it up, you thought.

But she couldn’t, even if she wanted to. Her hands were bound behind her. Did he tie them back like that so that she couldn’t try to hurt him, or because it gave him easier access to her flesh? Maybe a bit of both.

She looked uglier when she cried. Snot bubbled out of her nose and joined a dried streak of blood that went from her nose down to her chin. Her nose was probably broken, hence the blood; the flesh of it was black and blue and an awful shade of green.

One part of you longed to retrieve an ice pack from the freezer and hold it to the bruised, swollen flesh. Hush her cries. Give her an ounce of humanity that might carry her for another few hours, the way Ren once did to you. 

Another part of you, the new you forged under Strade’s knife (and boots and hammers and power drill) wished she’d just die already, so you wouldn’t have to hear her cry or be standing here obediently, waiting for Strade to come back down. You were probably going to have to participate in this next stream–why else would he call you down in the middle of one of his “projects”? 

Unless he was lonely. But even so, he could always kill two birds with one stone. You, here to give him company; and you, here to entertain his horrid audience. And himself, above all. Himself, always.

 The basement door at the top of the stairs creaked open and you heard his heavy bootsteps–thump, thump, thump–before he called out jovially.

“Are you still there, Liebling? You didn’t run off, did you?” 

As if you were stupid enough to do that. You were many things now. Stressed. Afraid. Desperate. Tired. More selfish. Maybe a little bit masochistic, a trick of your brain to keep you from totally losing your mind as you were tortured. All these things and more besides, but stupid was not one of them. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” You called back, lightening your tone. It was important not to sound too scared. Strade wanted you scared, yes, but he didn’t want you to be some obedient, squeaky little mouse. That was too boring. It was best to act as normally as you could, considering the circumstances. That seemed to please him more, at least on most days. Some days nothing you did was right and you went to bed with a swollen eye and broken fingers, eased by frozen peas that Ren snuck you from the kitchen before he went to sleep. 

You’re not the only one who noticed him coming down. The woman in front of you began to tremble and sob more violently, pulling at her bound wrists. It wouldn’t do any good. It never did. How long did she have to live? How long did any of you in this house have to live? 

By the time Strade made it down the stairs, her cries were practically at a fever-pitch. You didn’t want to look to see what he’d run off to fetch, but he didn’t give you a choice.

He called your name. “Come here, darling, I need your help with this.” And oh, you kept your eyes downcast until all you could see was his boots. But then it was time to look up, and you did, and no matter how many times you witnessed him preparing to torture another person, it still made your stomach roil.

He’d brought down a p[ot of boiling water, which he carefully held by the handle with both hands. Tucked underneath his armpit was the bag of frozen peas. The bag, you thought, because for as long as you’d been here, no one ever cooked them. They got passed around between you and Ren under cover of night.

Here they were, in the light of day. You suspect you wouldn’t want to re-use them after this. 

“Be my Lamm and take the peas, won’t you?” The sensible part of you eyed him warily; it wouldn’t be below him to toss the pot of boiling water at you while you reached for them, just to fuck with you. But you didn’t disobey him, either. You carefully leaned over and slid the bag from underneath his armpit, and held it in your hand.

He smiled. Grinned, really, which was a bad sign for the sobbing woman tied to the pole. His good moods and bad moods were both equally shitty, but in your unfortunately well-experienced opinion, it was his good moods that produced the most painful scenarios.

“Now!” He crouched down in front of the crying woman and grabbed her chin. She shrieked and tried to jerk her face away, but he held her tight. “I’m sure your wounds are sore, aren’t they?” She sobbed out something–meaningless pleading that you’d long since lost the ability to discern–and he tsked.

“Oh, poor thing. I know just what might help!” He snapped his fingers and looked back at you. “My lovely friend here will give you some ice to help you feel better. Won’t you?” He grinned wider and you nodded, feeling both scared and numb in a confusingly equal measure, as you crouched down next to him.

She yelped when you placed the frozen bag on a group of puncture wounds on her thigh, but you held it fast. It probably hurt more than it soothed. An icy bag right up against wounded skin didn’t sound pleasant. But maybe it would numb it a little. That might be better than nothing. 

“Perfect! Now…” He reached over and picked up the steaming pot of water, still bubbling from its boil on the stove. “Hold still, my Lamm… wouldn’t want to splash you.” 

It was so strange, the way that your time with Strade had made it possible for you to actually keep your hand there, despite the fact that you knew he was about to pour boiling water on the skin of this poor woman. Pour it right where it would surely splash on you a little, if not a lot. Probably a lot. Two birds, one stone, and all that.

It didn’t matter if it was strange. Your fingers flexed and your muscles tensed as you saw him turn the pot over slowly, and steaming water came flying down, pouring over the woman’s wounds.

She screamed. It was loud. It hurt your ears. The irritation of it distracted you from seeing Strade move the pot around so that the water trailed over the frozen peas–and your hand keeping it pressed against her–as he covered her thigh in the water.

“Fuck!” You said, biting your cheek hard. Your fingers danced on the bag but you didn’t dare pull away. You could see your own skin turning a shade of red. Her thighs had taken the brunt of it, though. There were even blisters forming on her skin already as she sobbed and cried and begged for someone, anyone, to help her.

You were someone.  You were anyone.

You couldn’t help her.

“Language, liebchen,” Strade said, teasingly. You mumbled out an apology, although you doubt he actually cared. 

He sighed when the pot was emptied, and tossed it on the floor.

“I don’t know… I just don’t think it’s enough. Do you?” He grasped your burned hand and you couldn’t stifle the sound of yelping pain as he gripped it hard. Your skin would blister too–it was already peeling a little. 

“What…whatever you think is best,” you stammered. 

“That’s right,” he said, grinning. He gave your hand a squeeze and you groaned. “I think I’ll work a little more on this project myself before dinner.” He let your fingers go, and you cradled your hand against your chest. “Have Ren take care of that. Come back down when it’s wrapped up.” his free hand grabbed the chin of the sobbing, bleeding, blistered woman again. “I think we’ll make a movie, and I need my prettiest co-star to help me out.”

“Of course.” You gave her one half-pitiful glance–the way her frightened, bloodshot eyes darted to you with a mixture of anger and pity made you want to hurl–and went up the stairs.

By the time you’d made it to the top, you already heard Strade pulling out his video equipment.

—

“It… doesn’t look too bad,” Ren said quietly. He held your hand underneath the sink, letting the cold water soothe your burn. But every time your hand trembled and the stream went just out of reach, it burned again, and you winced.

“Most of it hit her thigh,” you whispered. Though you didn’t need to, since both of you were well aware that Strade was busy in the basement. Old habits die hard, however. “She got it worse.”

Ren hummed. “They usually do.” He told you to keep your hand in place while he fumbled in the cabinet under the sink, looking for supplies. “I don’t know if he has–oh!” His ears twitched and perked up as he found what he’d been looking for.

It was a tube of burn relief ointment. He flipped it over and read the back, mumbling all the while. “It’s expired but…”

You smiled, just a little, and finished his sentence for him.

“Better than nothing, right?”

Ren smiled, and you caught sight of his tail curling behind him as he turned off the sink and told you to sit down on the toilet so she could wrap you up.

Was it wrong that some of the most pleasant moments in this house, if you could call them pleasant, were with Ren? Especially quiet moments like this, where he took care of you, or you took care of him. You were both well acquainted with fixing up the results of your time with Strade by now. 

He’d cleaned out deep cuts on your back, and you’d iced and splinted his broken toes. He let you curl up in his nest of a bed after a particularly awful night of torture, and you let him slide under your covers when he’d had an nightmare about the last time Strade made him kill someone.

It was transactional in some ways, you supposed. But when you saw his ears perk up or his tail swoosh or the way his eyes seemed to light with something genuine behind them while you talked with him, you realized it wasn’t all practical. It couldn’t be. Not when you were in this together.

Ren made quick work of bandaging your hand. The cream was smoothed over the reddened, flaking parts of your skin and he wrapped your hand up with a bandage. It hurt, still, but nothing to write home about. Hah! As if you’d ever be allowed to write home.

Hell, if by some miracle  you could write home, how would you even word the letter? 

“Dear mom and dad, last night my captor-who-also-fucks me made me keep my hand on a table while he hammered nails underneath my fingernails and asked me which one hurt the most. P.S. The milk in the fridge is expired and he’s threatening to make me or Ren drink it because of the waste.”

The thought made you snort. Ren looked up from his spot on the floor, where he’d taken to impromptu digging through the cabinet to look for some undisclosed item. 

“What’s funny?”

You mulled it over. Sometimes, you didn’t like to tell Ren what you were thinking. You trusted him, to an extent. You liked him, to an extent. You were friends, to an extent. How far did that extent go? It depended. 

He was here first, and sometimes, the tension between the two of you was too taut and fraught to ignore. There was always that underlying worry, an electric buzz you couldn’t turn off all the way: what if Strade decided he didn’t want two captives? Or what if he felt two was his limit, and he wanted to bring someone new in?

Which one of you would get the ax–literally?

But this was maybe not the type of thing that Ren might murmur to Strade in a moment of weakness. It was harmless, wasn’t it, to make a joke about writing home?

“I was just imagining what I might write home in a letter to my parents.” You flexed your bandaged hand. “I mean, if we were allowed to write home.”

“Like from a summer camp?” Ren asked. He pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them. 

“I guess,” you replied, smiling a little. “Although this would be one…” Fucked up, disgusting, hellish– “Specialty summer camp.”

Ren snorted a little. “Definitely not like the ones in movies.”

“Maybe horror movies,” you added with a grin. One of your front teeth–not from the center two, thank hell–was missing now, so you rarely grinned. But it felt different when it was just you and Ren alone. It was okay to let him see those imperfections, because he had them too. Maybe not missing teeth, but…

“Sleepaway Camp!” He blurted. “Or Friday the 13th…” 

You started to open your mouth, ready to tell him that you once saw a screening of the first Friday the 13th at a summer camp, when an all-too-familiar sound came wafting up from the cracked open basement door.

“Liebling! It doesn’t take that long to bandage a little burn! I hope I don't have to come get you.”

Ren’s tail went straight up at the sound of Strade’s voice. The sing-song nature of his words did not hide the danger in them. If you had a tail, yours would be standing stock straight too. But your body had to make do with your muscles tensing and your bowels clenching hard.

“I have to go,” you murmured, hopping off the toilet seat. 

You paused in the doorway. Ren had his knees hugged to his chest, his ears flat against his head. No doubt he was wondering if Strade would call him down, too. Or if he’d be pissed off about something and take it out on Ren later.

“Thanks for patching me up, Ren.” His ears twitched, and he glanced up at you. “Really, I mean it.” You smiled–grinned, showing off one of your missing teeth. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

His tail relaxed a little and he smiled back, an almost puppy-like grin crossing his expression for a moment, and it was enough to give you some vague emotional relief as you left the bathroom before Strade was forced to come up the stairs and retrieve you. 

–

She wouldn’t last another day. That much was clear. Her blood was everywhere now. On the floor. Smeared on her skin. On Strade’s hands–on yours.

Of course he’d made you participate. You were his lovely assistant, after all. Although he always said Ren was better at the work, when it came down to it. You were too prone to trembling and hesitation. To say nothing of your occasional habit of vomiting at the sight of anything more than blood–guts, in particular, were your weakness. 

Hers, too, by the way she quivered at the sight of the large hunting knife Strade twirled in his hands.

“I think this has gone on long enough. Don’t you, Schatz?” He looked back at you with a thoughtful smile. “Shall we end it?”

Without thinking much, you nodded. Yes, it had gone on long enough. Yes, you wanted her to just die already. Yes, you wanted to go over to the sink and scrub your hands until they were pruney and wrinkled and there was no trace of her visceral fluids on your skin.

“Go on,” he told you, gesturing at the trembling woman. Covered in cuts and gouges and burns. Where there had been dried blood earlier today, there were now smears of fresh gore. From Strade’s boots and the knife. Strade had even taken a blow torch to the burns caused by the boiling water, making them go from peeling and red to a series of gouged, pus-like craters in her flesh.

Cold seeped into your socks from the floor as you walked over to her. She regarded you with dull, dying eyes. She opened her mouth, maybe to say something, but whatever word she might have come up with wouldn’t come. Her swollen, bruised lip trembled as blood dribbled out of it. 

One of the handcuff keys was taped to the back of the poll. Strade always liked to keep extras around, in case he lost the original but still wanted to uncuff someone. He usually didn’t uncuff people unless they were being bound in some other way (usually not a good sign) or he was just about finished with them (definitely a bad sign); and in this case, you knew she was being released only to make killing her a little more fun.

Her hands flopped forward as soon as the cuffs were undone. There was a brief moment where you saw her regard her wrists, all reddened and cut from where the metal handcuffs dug into them. 

But the moment was over as soon as Strade stepped forward and pulled her close with a decisive yank of her hair. She yelped–you were surprised she had the yelp in her, her voice should have been shot from all the screaming–and he twisted her hair tight to keep her still.

“It’s been fun, but it’s time to go now. Don’t take this personally, hm? Or do, actually, it might make you feel better.”

She didn’t have time to respond. He rarely wanted them to say anything, you thought. It was just part of his internal script, a set of syllables that gave him extra pleasure as he snuffed out someone’s internal light. 

He stuck the hunting knife into her gut and twisted. She didn’t scream. She barely shouted. The sound, instead, was one of strangled horror. Like she couldn’t believe what was happening to her. He twisted again, and she grunted and gasped, a sound that was almost like a deep, gaping hiccup.

“Shh,” he murmured, a sick grin splitting his face. His eyes darted over her face, and you got a front-row view of how his expression was gleefully illuminated by the sight of her own life fading away. He enjoyed it so much, he even let go of the knife handle so that he could grasp her face with both hands and keep her dying gaze in his sights.

Who was she? What had she been, before the basement? Was she thinking about her friends, her family? Did she have children that were going to be left behind? Maybe she was in college, maybe she’d been studying for exams that would never happen. There would be uneaten prepared lunches in her fridge, a bookmark that would never move past a certain page. 

Her hands went tremblingly to the handle of the knife sticking out of her. She held the handle tenderly with bruised, bloody hands. Didn’t Strade see it? No, he was too focused on her face. But he didn’t even see the way her expression shifted. 

No, he saw it. But maybe he didn’t know what it meant, because he’d never been on the other end. The way she went from looking confused and horrified to determined. 

She didn’t act right away. 

You could have said something. You could have called out a warning. 

But instead you watched as the dying woman yanked the knife out of her gut, viscera and blood coming out with it, and stabbed it right into Strade’s neck.

He gasped now. A gaping, strangled sound. His hands went instinctively to his neck and it took him a few slow, trembling tries to pull it out. You saw the blood arch and spurt–an artery–and he fell to his knees.

The woman stepped away with what must have been her last ounce of energy. She had only enough life left in her to turn to you and smile–she was missing teeth, too–before she collapsed on the ground. She was still alive, but her shock would come soon after.

It wasn’t her you were watching, anyway. It was Strade.

His eyes darted to and fro until they landed on you. He had his hand pressed against the wound now, but it wasn’t doing much good. He would need a proper compress… an ambulance… surgery of some kind. 

You don’t know why you called him. To help Strade? To help you? 

“Ren.”

Not loud enough.

“Ren.”

Still not loud enough.

“Ren!” 

Before you knew it,  you were simply screaming his name, filling the basement with a different pitch of scream than it was used to. Your own voice was barely recognizable.

The basement door slammed open and you heard frantic footsteps pounding down the stairs. You saw Ren, only a blur of orange in your shock, take in the scene. His own mouth slowly gaped open, but unlike Strade and the unfortunate woman on the floor and your own panting lips, no sound came out.

Ren said your name. You think it was Ren, because Strade was surely in no position to talk. It shook you out of your stupor and you ran to him, clinging to his arm, crying fitfully. He wrapped one arm around you and the two of you stood, together, watching Strade bleed.

“What do we do?” The inside of your elbow pressed hard against Ren’s back as you held him. You wanted to snuggle, like the way you did on good nights. You wanted him to make it all go away. 

Maybe he sensed this. Because while the two of you had clung together in so many occasions, this time, he stood up taller. He held you tighter. And then he assessed the situation.

Ren watched Strade quietly for a long moment. Strade gazed up at him–at you, too, but mostly Ren–with wide-eyed helplessness. The look didn’t suit him at all. He seemed to know it. 

“Help me,” Strade managed. It almost didn’t feel like speech. Maybe the knife had grazed his vocal chords. 

Neither of you moved at first. There was a long moment in which either of you could have sprung into action; could have ran to the supply cabinet and grabbed thick gauze to press against the wound, while the other could have bounded up the stairs to call an ambulance.

But you didn’t. And Ren didn’t. 

And then Ren looked at you, and took a step backward. He pulled you with him, and you went willingly, taking another step, and another, until the two of you were standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“You…” Strade gurgled out the word, and blood came bubbling out in between the fingers pressed against his neck with it. “You…”

He didn’t get to finish. His eyes widened and you saw the light leave them before he collapsed on the floor. 

For the first time since you’d been brought here, the basement was truly silent. 

Strade was dead.

Neither of you moved for a while. And then you felt a hoarse sob coming on. Relief, terror, and shock coursed through you, fighting for the surface in a way that could only result in tears. 

Ren regarded you with an unreadable expression and slowly removed his arm from your shoulder. You whimpered–don’t leave me, you wanted to say–and he smiled, a soft, little thing. 

“Don’t worry. I’m just going to make sure he’s dead.”

Oh. That was a good idea. But what if he wasn’t? What if Strade got to his feet and oh, the two of you would be in for it. He’d probably kill both of you–or at least you–and it would be slow and awful and you’d beg, beg, for death.

“Ren,” you said, almost stammering, swallowing a thick lump in your throat.

He turned back towards you, curious.

You pointed to the table of tools at Strade’s disposal. “Take something. Just in case.”

Ren stared at the weapons that had been used to kill countless people. At the blades and torches and nails that had been used to hurt him, and you. Then he grabbed a heavy hammer and slowly approached the bleeding corpse (please let it be a corpse) of Strade.

Strade didn’t move as Ren approached him. Or when Ren knelt down, hammer at the ready. Or when Ren’s fingers slowly reached out and pressed against his neck, his wrist. 

“No pulse,” said Ren.

Ren set the hammer down and used both hands to shove Strade’s body until it was fully on his back. His eyes, dull and dead, stared up at the ceiling without seeing anything.

He was dead. Truly dead. 

Really most sincerely dead, your thoughts echoed in a half-mimic of the Munchkins in The Wizard of Oz.

You barely registered Ren digging around in Strade’s pocket before he returned to you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he began to lead you upstairs.

“Let’s not stay down here,” he said. He gave Strade’s corpse one last look before staring ahead at the basement door. How many times had the two of you gone up and down these stairs at Strade’s whim? It always meant you would get hurt, or you would help Strade hurt others. It was never willing, going up these stairs. Never a choice.

And now the two of you were going up them together, Ren leading you, of your own free will.

Free will! What a concept. One you thought you’d lost forever. And yet here it is, given by the hands of a woman whose last days were filled with unnecessary, unfair agony. You wish you knew her name, so you could thank her properly.

Ren shut the basement door. It sounded louder than it ever had before. Or was it because the house was so quiet now? 

“Come here,” Ren said. And you didn’t know why he said it–shock, confusion, uncertainty still reigned–until you saw what was in his hand. 

His collar. It was… off. But how and–

Ren held up the key he’d taken from Strade’s pocket and shook it back and forth, like a well-earned prize. That’s what it was, in some ways. 

You stepped towards Ren and turned around, breathing heavily at the thought of being truly free from the collar. Strade only took them off the pair of you when you were showering and, once you had learned to behave well enough, when you slept. But they always went back on first thing in the morning, and their threat was an ever-constant presence in your mind, just like the metal was ever-constant around your neck.

Ren’s fingers brushed the back of your shoulder. You heard him breathing just as heavily. For a moment, he didn’t do anything. Wasn’t he going to…?

“Ren?” You asked, voice quivering. The air felt suddenly too heavy, your collar weighing you down more than normal. There was an awful thought, then: What if he doesn’t take your collar off? What if Ren is… what if, what if…

But then you felt the pressure from him sticking the key into the back of the metal contraption, heard it twist, and felt cool relief on your neck as Ren lifted the collar away from your neck and set it down on the coffee table. 

Both hands went to your neck. The skin was sensitive, bruised. A few days ago, Strade had come into your room at night for a session of “fun,” which ended with you being choked into unconsciousness. You’d woken up to Ren splashing cold water on your face. “Thought I’d lost you,” he’d said. 

The bruises Strade gave you would fade away in time. At least the ones on the outside.

And Ren…

You turned around and gave him a fractured smile. You leaned in, and Ren leaned in, and you hugged each other tenderly. Not just because it was the nicest way to hug, but because Ren’s rib fracture was still healing, and your back hurt, and both of you were littered with scars and cuts and bumps and bruises.

After a while, Ren pulled away. “Let’s… sit down.” 

He sat down on the sofa, which was dotted with sprinkles of Ren’s orange fur; no matter how much you lint-rolled the furniture, you could never quite get all of it out. 

Well, that didn’t matter now. You’d never have to clean up this living room, or the kitchen, or the brain matter and blood stains in the basement, again. You could go home.

And Ren could go home. 

And the nightmare would be over.

For now, you sat, side by side, on a sofa that had never seemed more ordinary. The house had never seemed more ordinary. Its secrets were primarily down in the basement. The rest of the house was bland and boring by comparison. Unless you counted upstairs, as it was not unheard of for Strade to take his particular brand of “fun” into your respective rooms. 

And now? It was quiet. Still. There was no chance that Strade would come walking up the stairs. No chance that you’d be called down them to torture someone.

Certainly no chance that he’d call both of you down, which never ended well. He liked to see Ren hurt you, because it seemed to hurt Ren. But sometimes, sometimes, you thought… there was a glimmer of something in Ren’s eyes in those moments. 

Something that reminded you too much of pleasure to ignore. Just a spark of it, but that was enough, when you were bound to a table and he was clawing open your thighs at Strade’s behest.

“Ren?” You forced yourself to stop thinking like that. That was the past. This was now. No, more than that: this was the future. A future without Strade, without this house, without pain. 

Ren looked over at you, slowly. The realization of what had just happened, and what it meant, seemed to be catching up to him, too. “... Yeah?”

Your fingers scratched at some of Ren’s stray fur on the couch. Some of the orange fur had already started clinging to your bandage. 

“What do we do now?” A simple question for you to ask. Several plans rushed through your head but it was hard to make sense of them. What was the best course to take; which authorities did you appeal to, when there was a dead serial killer and one of his victims in the basement, but your hands were on the torture tools, yet the same tools had been used to hurt you? 

You swallowed hard, shaking your head, willing the dizzying thoughts to quiet down.  “Do we call the police first? Or… an ambulance? Or–or–” 

Ren gripped the hand that idly scratched the couch. He intertwined his fingers in yours, and when you looked up at him, his eyes were wide. And just a bit wild.

“We could stay here.”

Your heart thudded. Once, twice. A third time.

“What?” You shifted on the couch, facing Ren more clearly. “We… we can’t, it’s–”

Ren squeezed your hand, a little too hard–the burn–and you winced. He didn’t let up, but he didn’t know you were hurting, did he? It was all just a rush right now, confusing, scary.

“We can,” he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. His mouth broke into an almost childish grin as he continued. “Strade’s got a lot of money, we can use that to keep up the bills. Buy whatever we want. We won’t have to worry about anything!” His tail swished behind him, thumping into your side. 

When you didn’t respond–words weren’t coming–his grin deflated a little. “I’m… I’m a good roommate,” he said, ears flattening. “I’ll take care of you.” He squeezed even tighter now. “We’ll do everything together, and we don’t have to worry about Strade getting mad about it. We’ll watch movies or-or play games or whatever you want.” He swallowed and you watched his throat bob. “And I promise I won’t leave fur everywhere.”

“Ren–” It was your turn to give his hand a squeeze, and you took his other in your free hand and clasped them both. “I’m not worried about your fur.”

His ears perked up and his smile came back.

“It’s… we can’t stay here,” you said, voice wobbling but gaining more firmness as you went on. “We need to leave. We need to call the police.”

Ren’s ears twitched. He looked thoughtful, opening his mouth, and shutting it. He was just confused, that’s all. Like you were. He needed to be reminded that if Strade was gone, the both of you were free. You’d go home, and he’d go home, and you could call or text or email or something but…

“Don’t be stupid.” 

The firmness in Ren’s voice shook you a little. More than that, it made you worry. He frowned at the sight of your tense shoulders, the quirk in your mouth. “Think about it,” he said, gently saying your name. “Remember all the people who watch his videos? Don’t you know who’s in those chats?”

The reminder of the chatrooms came hurtling straight into your guts. The chat… the people there paid money to watch people suffer. Watch them die. How many times had they encouraged Strade to indulge in some fucked up torture? Hell, they’d asked him countless times to string you up, cut you open, pull out your guts while you were still alive. Strade had danced away the requests with a teasing lilt, but the threat was never gone.

Ren let go of your bandaged hand and gently cupped your cheek. He spoke slowly, almost sweetly. “They’re rich. Important. Mayors. Politicians. Doctors. Police.” 

The anguish your stomach began to stretch. Ren didn’t stop talking.

“They know both our faces. Do you know what they’ll do to us, if they find us?” 

Tears pricked, unwanted and unbidden, at your eyes. He was right. You couldn’t go to the police. You couldn’t go to the media. This could never get out. But that didn’t mean you had to stay here. More than that: you couldn’t stay here. 

It would be another type of collar, to find yourself stuck here with Ren. And the collar might not be electric, but it would be just as dangerous. 

“Okay,” you said slowly. “No police.”

Ren grinned hopefully.

“But,” you continued. “We can’t stay here. I want to go home. And you–you get to go home now, too.” Ren had never talked much about his life before Strade, but surely he had friends. A family. An apartment or a house. A life. Just like you. 

“You want to leave–” His voice was thin and there was a fissure in it, ready to crack.

The hand on your cheek pressed harder, and you felt the thin press of his claws against your skin. Your eyes must have widened or perhaps you flinched, you don’t know, but Ren saw–and yanked away.

“S-Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to.”

No, he didn’t. He wouldn’t. He was upset, he was scared, hell, you didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh or cry or start belting out show tunes right now. 

Freedom was confusing as hell. 

“I know,” you said, slowly. “It’s okay.”

Ren stared down at the ground. Then he stood up and fished Strade’s keyring out of his pocket and set it down on the coffee table with a jingling rattle. 

“I’m going to get us some water. And maybe a snack. We’ll… we’ll talk about this more. We can talk about it, and not make a decision right away. Okay?” He fumbled with both his hands in front of him, looking like the meek young man you’d met that first night, when he cleaned your wounds and gave you water to drink. 

You stared at him, perhaps for too long.

“Okay, Ren, we’ll talk about it,” you lied. 

You watched him walk into the kitchen, where Strade would never saunter in for a case of beer again. You heard him open the cabinet for an empty glass, none of which would ever again find themselves dashed into tiny shards that could be ground into your skin for fun. 

And then you leaned forward, grabbed the keyring off the countertop, pulled out the key to the front door, and softly padded your way to the threshold that neither of you had been able to cross in ages.

Your heart thudded. Your stomach heaved. But you unlocked the door and bolted, socked feet aching on the concrete sidewalk.

Ren said your name after the third step you took beyond the door of Strade’s house of horrors.

You could have kept running. Maybe you should have.

But instead, you turned around, to look at Ren standing in the doorway. There were no glasses of water in his hand–you don’t remember registering the sound of the sink at all, in fact. It was just Ren, with his hands at his sides, looking at you with an expression that was equally pitiful, agonizing, and worrying.

He said your name again.

You felt hot tears squeeze out of your eyes as you shook your head, turned around, and ran for your life.

raider masterlist

dark!Joel x f!reader | updated: April 11, 2024: tired

moodboard by @milla-frenchy 🖤 a rb will not stay up-to-date.

SUMMARY: He's a bad guy, and you're his good girl. Joel saves you from bad men, but claims you for himself. His persona starts to crack, but he gets even more possessive. You're his world, and he'll do anything to keep you. Emotional slow burn but smut the whole time. WARNINGS: 18+ canon-typical violence, noncon via implicit threat, evolving to enthusiastic dubious consent (stockholm syndrome), depraved use of praise and pet names (sweet pea, baby), unsafe P in V, exhibitionism, extreme possessiveness, dark fluff (🖤), angst, and more. NO USE of Y/N, No physical description of reader.

Spotify: raider, sweet pea (smut) Optional reference: trailer floor plan

main fic

Note, non-bold links in this section were written out of order and may contain spoilers or references to future events. their placement in this list is based on

Raider: (Mar 24, 2023) - He "saves" you, then has his way with you but is kinda sweet about it. Joel POV (Oct 3, 1k)

Failed Rescue (Apr 8 - 1.9k) Your bf tries to save you. Joel makes him watch then keeps you.

Stash House (Apr 11 - 850)- Joel takes you to the stash house and shows everyone you're his. Wash Bin 🖤 (Aug 27, 1k) Shooting Practice Drabble(Jul 28, 1.6k)

Failed Escape (Apr 23, 4k)- Joel saves you from FEDRA, bathes you, amd edges you.

J. Miller (May 19, 2k) - Joel labels you with his switchblade and claims all your holes. dark.

Home (May 29, 1.3k) - Joel makes dinner at home, cleans your chest, and tucks you in. 🖤

Company (Jun 9, 2.2k) - Joel brings home a girl to distract his men. dark. Extra Scene - angst.

Close (Jul 3, 2.7k) - close call with other raiders. You-almost-died sex, and later, tender sex 🖤

Gun Hug (Jul 31, 3.7k) - Joel traps 2 bad guys with some help and kills them while you. . .🖤 If you want him (1.5k) - he holds out to see🖤

Night Air (Aug 30, 3.5k) - Joel is brutal with a bad guy and his POV reveals some feelings. 🖤 Bonus blurb, wakeup pwp drabble

Hunger (Sep 29, 7k) - Joel takes you on a trek, comforts you, kills a guy, and gives you head. 🖤 He's only human (1.1k) - 👱‍♂️Carter POV, overlaps w/ hunger.

Bodies (Dec 3, 7.8k) - Strangers show up and cause a shitstorm, but Joel takes a big step. 🖤 Raider POV

No cliffhangers if you read through Bodies.

more smut, dark fluff, etc ⬇️

drabbles, imagines, hypotheticals

🔥 explicit smut

Trying to use him (800) (riding) 🔥

House meeting drabble 🖤

You get sick at night drabble 🖤

He goes down on you (oral f) 🔥

sweet pea by herself

Apple picking 🖤

If you touched his scar

if men had hurt you in the past

if you got your period 🖤

magazine and makeup 🖤

yoga pwp drabble piv 1k 🔥

boots drabble (oral f receiving) 🔥

graveyard blurb (spice)

if you bit his arm drabble (p in v) 🔥

If you snapped (emotional spice) 🖤

face sitting on sofa 🔥

If you sketched Joel and Jack

being bad, looking good (2.8k, smut) 🔥

Van ride drabble (800) 🖤

sleeping beast (<1k), PWP 🔥

If Joel was sick 🖤

If you were annoying

cutting his hair 🖤

waking up on top 🔥

✨tired 🖤

if you can handle it, there's non-canon carter smut 👱‍♂️

Note: not all content is linked here. Asks can lead to lore and previews or hints of future plot points, etc.

Headcanons (not written like fic)

If another man has his way (Q&A)

dacryphilia - evolved update (Q&A)

if you had scars or tattoos (Q&A)

👱‍♂️raider carter Qs, face claim (Q&A)

Analysis (#raider!analysis)

why does he keep her

why did he snap (in Company extra scene)

his eye contact

his affection / feelings, trajectory 🖤

falling for sweet pea

his self hate and her feelings

the dog and joel's concern for you

✨awareness of growth / why keep her

Raider Tommy

Birds of prey (2.6k)

Art, etc.

Mattress by esquire magazine

Stitches by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

collage by @milla-frenchy

lose control edit by @survivingandenduring

🌸 sweet pea mood boards by various

6 month collage by milla-frenchy

6 month cake by not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

🌸 sweet pea cosplay from night air

👱‍♂️carter mood board by @romana-after-dark

pts. 1-3 rb mood boards by @iamasaddie

night air gif by not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

raider/sweet pea collage by milla

sweet pea's pup by @dark-scape

want it that bad gif by @dark-scape

Bodies gif by not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

👱‍♂️carter mood board by milla-frenchy

Then and now drawing by @romana-after-dark

Raider/sweet pea drawings by @lumoverheaven

our stars moodboard by milla

raiding edits by gasolinerainbowpuddles

under the anger by iamasaddie

🎥 Trailer (video) by @carminepoison

If I've left yours off please lmk I prob tagged improperly

birthday sketch by @lumoverheaven

✨In love w raider by @milla-frenchy

Back to MAIN Masterlist

🖤 If mine or another writer's work has inspired yours, it's always better late than never to share / shout-out 🖤

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley Comforts You

i’m on my period atm and it’s that mental state where you just want to curl up forever and you forget to take care of yourself and i wish i had a big sexy military man to look after me :(

simon comforts a sick reader who’s been struggling to care of herself 💞

not proofread - comfort, angst, alluding to bad mental health but simon is so sweet

Coming home from a week away, working, Simon quietly unlocks the door. His heavy duffel bag weighs him down, and his dark mask and military boots make him seem almost terrifying, the humanity in him hidden behind cloth and eye black - but under his mask, his thin lips smile softly, already imagining how you’re going to greet him… how you’ll be waiting by the door, like you always are, like some sweet puppy waiting for her master to come home. Maybe you’ve baked cookies, or lit candles… maybe you’re asleep in bed, the only thing covering you being the duvet cover… all these thoughts run through his head, and he smiles to himself. God, he’s lucky.

The 4am winter cold slows his movements, but eventually the house key clicks into place, and he’s finally home. He places his kit on the floor, locking the door behind him, and switches on the light…

Only to be met with a messy house. No girlfriend, no cookies, no candles, no wet panties… just some papers, strewn about the floor. A pile of coats on the table, ibuprofen on the kitchen counter and dirty cups littered on the floor around the sofa. He almost doesn’t recognise the flat, but those are your coats by the door, and that’s your childhood teddy on the sofa. The one you only get out when you’re really, really sad.

"Oh… oh, baby," he sighs softly. Ashamedly, he’s a little disappointed, a little annoyed. He risks his ass in the field, so you don’t have to work, provides for you… and this is the welcome he gets? A dirty kitchen? Are you a pig?

But he knows you better than that. He knows you’re his good girl, you wouldn’t disrespect him like that, you want nothing more than to make him happy. He can tell by the medicine and the throat lozenges strewn everywhere, and by the fluffy comfort teddy (not so fluffy after all these years) on the sofa, that something is wrong.

He gently opens the door to your shared bedroom, moving softly and taking care not to disturb you as you slept. The room was similarly disorganised - piles of clothes, random things that needed putting back, endless cups of camomile tea on the side. And in the middle, was his girl. In his tshirt, and an unsexy pair of your comfy underwear, lying curled up into a tense ball under at least 2 blankets. A little tear wobbled on your puffy cheeks as you slept, and there was a little blood stain by your thighs.

Without a word, he removes his mask, taking away that element of separation completely so that it’s just you and him. Not Ghost and his bird, but Simon and his little girl. And his girl needed him. Tenderly, he lifted the covers and slipped into bed at your side, wrapping his strong, sore arms around you and holding you to him. He was tired and aching from training, but he would always have the energy to hold you tight. His rough, wide hands traced up and down your back in small steps and his chapped lips met your soft forehead, as he pulled you close into his chest. His body was like a blanket, shielding you from the world, keeping you cosy with your cheek against his heart, that beat behind his muscles that were so soft, and so warm…

"I’m home, love…" he coos softly into your ear, his typically rough manchester accent sounding unusually tender against your temple as he kissed it.

As his warm arms encircle you, your eyes softly start to flutter open, not quite understanding what is happening.

"Simon…"

"That’s right."

"You’re…" you look away, ashamed, as you remember the house that he had to come home to. As you remember what a bad girlfriend you’ve been.

"I’m sorry," is all you can manage to say as the tears start to fall again. Your boyfriend realises as your arms relax that you had been curled up so tightly around a little teddy… a bear, in a military uniform, that he’d bought you for fun when you were out one day and had seen it in a shop window. That bear had become your comfort when Simon was away.

"Oh, baby…" he whispers, "don’t be sorry, darlin’, m’just glad to see you."

"But the flat’s a mess… i’m a mess…"

"I’ve got it, sweetheart, we’ll get you cleaned up. Don’t worry that pretty head. Love ya too much t’let you worry about anything," he whispers softly, noticing the hot water bottle at your side, "you got cramps..?"

His thumb strokes your hair behind your ear as you nod weakly, appreciatively.

"Mhm…" you whisper, "bad’uns."

"S’alright," he smiles, pulling you face down onto his chest, and placing a firm hand on your lower back as the other holds you tight, "I can be your hot water bottle for the night."

thank you for reading lovelies :)

PAINS AND ACHES e.williams

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 2.4K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - ellie returns home from a late patrol to find you crying in the bathroom with your hands wound around your stomach. The red blotch on the bedsheets tells her everything she needs to know. Luckily for you both, she knows just what to do to take good care of her girl.

 ☆ WARNINGS - fluff! mentions of periods/blood, comfort, crying, mentions of eating? reader being dramatic because what other way would we have it? petnames, use of 'good girl' and other praises, domestic dom!ellie, nakedness (not in a sexual way), use of y/n, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

ellie stood in front of the stables, putting shimmer away while hopping from foot to foot. "you okay?" jesse questioned, eyeing her weird antics.

she was shuffling partly because it was freezing out and the jacket around her was doing next to nothing to keep her warm and partly due to the fact she was stressed. she was stressed because she knew you were stressed. this patrol with jesse had been late. she hadn't intended for it to be as so but they had got a little caught up on their way back with a couple stalkers. "yeah, just wanna get home." of course, ellie had no intentions on telling you about this run in with the stalkers when she did get home, she knew you worried about her enough as it was.

jesse nodded his head, yawning as he stretched his arms outwards. "you can say that again." as ellie finally clicked the bottom door of the stables shut. "see you tomorrow, tell y/n i say hi." you and jesse were close, he was practically an older brother, ellie knew this.

she pressed her lips into a short smile. "will do." before bidding her goodbyes. her eyes glanced down to the watch sitting on her wrist, you had given it to her for her birthday after countless times of her loosing track of the time. she was really bad when it came to that kind of management. it was now half eleven and pitch black if not for the power generated street lamps down the paths.

sleep was something you adored more than anything, sometimes ellie thought you may actually choose sleep over her. she knew you weren't one to stay up late. if it had been any other night, you would have been conked out asleep by now but ellie knew better. she knew that you needed her with you to fall asleep. she felt her guilt grow thick.

she made an effort to pick up her pace as she made her way down the path, finding herself at your guys' shared home in minutes. she could tell through the window that the living room lamp had been left on. you always left it on even when the girl scolded you countless times for it.

opening the door, the girl allowed the heat to envelope her. the fire was still alight, setting warmth throughout the house. sighing, she placed her jacket up against the rack next to the door, kicking off her boots afterwards.

it felt good to be warm again. she was sighing with her eyes closed, stretching out her neck as her feet carried her to the living room. she assumed you'd be there, either sitting by the fire reading a book or placed on the couch attempting to doze off, or stop yourself from doing so as you felt yourself grow needier for the comfort of your girlfriends embrace. upon realising you weren't in the living room at all, ellie's brows furrowed. "baby?!" she called out from the bottom of the stairs.

there was no panic laced in the girls voice, just mere confusion. she knew you were here, there was no way you'd be anywhere else, especially not without her. it was just unusual for you to be in the room without her, you always said it made you feel weird, it made you miss her impossibly more. she found herself climbing up the stairs, awaiting a response from you.

her head peaked through the bedroom door. "baby? you in here?" but she was met with mere silence. she found her feet shuffling towards the bedside table, switching on the lamp. she could see clearly now, her ears strained. she thought she could hear... crying? her eyes snapped towards the bathroom door that lay inside the bedroom, confusion dawned over her as she placed her ear against the door, knocking softly. "angel? what's wrong?"

you were crying rather loudly, not harshly but enough to cause concern. "els." you practically whimpered out from behind the door. you had been in excruciating pain for hours, awaiting your girlfriends arrival home. after a while, it seemed as though she may never come home at all.

ellies heart broke at the sound of your voice, choked out and small. "i'm coming in, okay?" though she didn't wait for your response, merely pushing the door open, slowly and carefully in case you had been standing close to it. the last thing she wanted to do was hurt you.

the sight she was met with caused her heart to completely shatter. there you sat, in an almost feeble position. you were curled up completely in on yourself, allowing your legs to fold into your chest. your cheeks were tear stained, lips bitten and wobbly. you thought you looked a mess and even though you needed her comfort so bad, you really didn't want her to see you like this. but to ellie? you were nothing short of perfect, the way you always were, the way you'd always be to her.

but that didn't stop her heart from aching. she hated seeing you cry. "oh, honey." she gave a sympathetic look as she sunk down onto the ground herself, opening her arms and letting you crawl into them. she watched as you instantly enveloped her, pressing your head into the crook of her neck. she could feel your hot tears against her skin. "c'mon, angel, tell me what's wrong."

but you only shook your head, pushing your face into her more. she tried gaining a look at you but all attempts were failed as she frowned, wondering what had happened. Her eyes were dancing around the bedroom, spotting a little red splotch on your guys' pink sheets. they were a baby pink, you had enforced this upon seeing them, you instantly fell in love. you loved just about anything pink.

realisation dawned on ellie as she realised what had happened. "awh, baby." she sympathised, hearing your choked whimper as you pulled her impossibly closer. "is it your tummy, hm?" her voice as soft as feathers. you needed her to be soft.

a nod fell against her skin as she watched your hair bounce slightly. "hurts." you cried against her, arms doing everything they could to keep her close. and it did hurt, god did it hurt, you had tried laying in bed in hopes that it would go away but it didn't it seemed as though nothing you could do could make it go away.

you just needed ellie. your ellie.

"my poor girl." she cooed, brushing the strands of hair out of your face. "how about i run you a bath, hm? get you into some soft jammies and into bed then."

and even though it sounded good, you could still barely move your body, every movement sending shocks into your stomach. "ellie." you whined lightly, though the tears had subsided. "don' wanna move." your cracked and broken voice was enough to have ellie shushing you, not wishing for you to begin crying again.

"i know, baby, i know." patting your hair down with her hand. "but it'll help and when we're finished we can get you wrapped up in bed, all nice 'n cozy, yeah?" you huffed against her neck. she moved your face with her hands, matting down your hair against your cheeks as she held your head in front of her own, smiling softly at the sight of you. she'd been on patrol a couple hours, not a second went by that her mind wasn't stuck to you even when she was getting tackled by stalkers. "how's that sound?"

you wore a pout but murmured a soft. "okay." nonetheless."

"okay." ellie grinned, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. "that's my good girl."

ellie helped you strip out of your clothes, making sure to be extra soft and careful with you, pressing kisses against your neck and shoulder blade, gently guiding you through the process of getting undressed while the water ran in the bath behind you. she unclapsed your single necklace too, making sure no jewelry was on before lowering you into the bath.

the bath was warm, cozy and you could have fallen asleep if ellie hadn't warned you not to. she told you she was going to pick you out clothes, getting the bed stripped too and that she'd be right back. you'd instantly apologised, stating you hadn't meant to bleed on the bed, the girl laughed. of course you hadn't 'mean't to bleed' she kissed your temple and told you to stop worrying.

that was the best thing about dating a girl, they understood completely seeing as they had periods of their own.

by the time ellie returned to the bathroom, you had almost dozed off. the only thing keeping you awake was the distraction of the bubbles. you played with them, pushing them into your hands and squeezing them between your fingers. ellie was now dressed in a dark grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, holding a pile of clothes for you too.

she offered to wash your hair and who were you to deny the experience? "did you eat anything, sweet girl?" It was the only thing ellie disliked about you. she didn't dislike anything about you, not really. but she knew how you could get, forgetting to take care of yourself when she wasn't around. it made her sick to her stomach. it was also what drove her to work hard on patrols, making sure she came home. she knew that without her, you'd fall. she'd be damned if she let you fall.

your eyes trailed towards her, a guilty look on your face. you didn't need to say anything for she was already giving you a pointed look. "'m sorry, els, i forgot." she knew you forgot, you wouldn't do it on purpose.

"it's okay, baby." washing the suds out from your hair. "just means we're gonna have to go downstairs and get you something in your stomach before bed, 'kay?"

but at that you whined out. "els, you promised!" all you wanted was to be wrapped up in her embrace. in bed.

ellie pressed a kiss to your wet forehead which was now clear of any suds or soap. "i know, princess." standing up from her sitting position on the edge of the porcelain bathtub. "wouldn't have happened if you remembered to take care of yourself." she wasn't trying to punish you, she was merely showing you that your own actions had consequences.

you sat with a pout on your lips, arms outstretched. "i know." you mumbled, feeling slightly guilty. but you weren't hungry. the hot water had soothed your stomach a certain amount, the ache wasn't as strong but it was still prominent. you knew that the minute you stepped out of the water you'd be hunched over in pain again.

unluckily for you, the water would have only gotten cold so the one thing you could do was get up and get dressed. ellie, once again, helped you. she dried you off with one of the white towels, helping you get changed after. you wore a white jammies bottom with little brown teddy bears on it along with a white spaghetti strap, she offered the jumper but you politely declined. you had gotten a little warm after your bath.

somehow, you managed to get from the bathroom to the kitchen, sitting on one of the chairs with your head laying on your folded elbows. you were babbling on about something while ellie was toasting you bread. she kept murmuring things like "yeah?" and "really?" or "is that so?" truth was, even you didn't know what you were talking about. But ellie liked to make sure you knew she was listening to you, even if your words were complete and utter jumbles.

"now." turning around with a soft smile. "jam or chocolate?" on your toast, that was.

"mmm." your stomach still hurt but the chocolate seemed so much more appetising right about now. "chocolate please, els."

ellie grinned at your manners. "good choice." she all but cooed at you before taking out the spreadable chocolate. she used a butter knife to spread it across the toast before popping two slices onto a porcelain plate. not before cutting off the crusts, of course.

"thank you." you spoke, beaming up at her. even if you hadn't wanted to eat anything, you were still beyond grateful for the girl going through so much trouble just to make sure you had food in your body.

"my good girl, using her manners." ellie spoke in an almost teasing tone, pressing a chaste kiss against your cheek. you grinned, face warming as she walked away.

you attempted at your toast while ellie stood by the kitchen counter, waiting for the kettle to finish boiling. she had grabbed one of the hot water bottles on the way down. it had a grey fluffy cover with a teddy bear on it, sort of like your pijamas. she filled it up with the hot water, turning to find you ready to sleep on the table. you had eaten almost three quaters of the food but it was all you could stomach.

"thank you for eating something, baby." she murmured against the supple of your skin. "so proud of you." you couldn't fight the smile even when your stomach did feel like it was getting stabbed.

soon after the girl had made you take some painkillers with a glass of water, telling you to drink that too to ease the headache. you listened to her intently, doing everything she asked before ending up back in the bed. this time, with the living room lamp switched off.

the sheets were a cream colour, little blue flowers dotted around them. they were your third favourite. ellie held you close, your back against her chest, legs wrapping around one another. she moved her hands against your stomach, the part where the water bottle wasn't touching. "you okay, honey?" you left out a soft and tired 'mm-hmm' "still hurting?"

"a little bit." you mumbled, almost asleep already. "but you make it stop." ellie's lips turned downward into a smile, trying to contain herself as she pressed a kiss to your shoulder. she was glad. "thank you, els, for everything. you're the best girlfriend ever." the girl merely chuckled against your shoulder.

"i love you." she spoke, voice soft and gentle, calming you.

you were sure you were drifting. you were practically already asleep though your lips mumbled the words. "i love you more."

to which she responded. "i love you most."

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

eighties baby

summary: your parents throw an 80’s themed party in their mansion. you try your best to contain your infatuation for joel, your dad’s best friend. you and your friend get a little too drunk and joel decides to teach you a lesson.

content: joel miller x reader, no outbreak, little plot, dbf!joel, reader in her twenties

warnings: CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT. 18+ mdni!, age gap is 20s/50, piv unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), cream pie, doggystyle, dirty talk, choking

an: i’m baaaaaack ;) this was… wow! pls enjoy

“Your ass looks immaculate.”

You glance over your shoulder in the reflection of the mirror, locking eyes with your best friend. She’s giving you wild eyes while biting her bottom lip that’s covered in bright red lip stick. Her makeup was done very vibrantly compared to usual; blue eyeshadow with bright pink blush.

“You don’t think it’s too short?” You ask, popping a hip to accentuate your ass further under your very tight and very short mini skirt. Typically, you wouldn’t mind if a little bit of cheek was hanging out the bottom of your skirt, but this was your parents’ party, not your typical college party. Your best friend rolled her eyes and you and laid a smack down on your ass. You yelped in surprise.

“It’s perfectly fine. It’ll be dark.” She begins, then her voice lowers. “Plus, Joel will want to eat you alive when he sees you in it.”

You bite your bottom lip to fight back a grin. She knew you too well. You sighed and placed your hands on your hip, your head turning to the side as your further inspect your outfit in your full length mirror. You decided to go with an 80s glam rock look instead of the typical vibrant colors from the time period. You were wearing a tight black leather skirt and matching top, with knee high platform boots with silver chains on them. You had grungy black eyeshadow matched with a glossy red lip. You felt hot.

“I can’t be too obvious. You cannot let me get too drunk tonight.” You say sternly. You were talking more to yourself than anything. You knew if you drank too much alcohol you would make a fool out of yourself in front of Joel.

Joel was your father’s main man. They’d known each other for decades now. Joel was a stern man; the crinkles by his eyes from his fifty years of wisdom weren’t usually intensified by joy, more by scowls. You’d like to think at one point he was a light hearted man, but you can’t help but wonder what in his years turned him into such a sour puss. You could count on one hand the amount of times you’d seen him genuinely laugh. It was an extremely rare occurrence, but the times he had, it was the most amazing sound you’d ever heard.

“Fine. But this is your chance to act as unhinged as you want because in the morning you can blame the alcohol.” Your best friend winks at you, patting you once more on the bum.

“You’re a terrible influence.” You turn to face her. Your shorter friend stares up at you with a devilish grin and runs her thumb along your bottom lip, cleaning up your red lipstick.

“We should head down there, take a couple shots, scope it out.” She suggests, grabbing your perfume off your vanity and spritzing it on the both of you a few times. You nod in agreement, and check your outfit in the mirror one last time. You take a deep breath and grab your friend’s hand to leave your bedroom. The 80s music was already thumping from your parent’s massive surround sound speakers downstairs. The lights were off, with the sole light source being a couple lamps and some red lights your parents used for their annual Halloween party.

When you made it downstairs, the house was already packed out. The entire neighborhood was in your parents’ house. All of the couples in the neighborhood were in attendance, as well as their children (all in their twenties or older). If you squinted hard enough, it even looked like a college party. The lighting was just enough to see the basic traits of everyone’s faces, most of them being somewhat recognizable to you. You had just graduated from college earlier that month, so you were home temporarily until you found your full-time calling.

Your friend dragged you to the kitchen where all of the alcohol was stashed. On the island, there was a lineup of liquor with the appropriate mixers. She decided to pour you each a hefty shot of tequila, as well as a lime wedge. You absolutely hated any dark liquor, and unfortunately vodka had been tainted for you in your time at college, so tequila was the sole surviving option for you. You didn’t mind the taste of tequila, but the catch was its effect on you. Unlike other forms of liquor, tequila made you incredibly horny. After around 4 tequila shots, you had the tendency to shed off articles of clothing like you were battling a heat wave. This made you nervous considering you knew Joel would be in attendance; however, as your friend said, you can use the liquor as a scapegoat if it got that bad.

As you and your friend shot back your tequila, you began wondering where Joel could be. The party started over thirty minutes ago, and it was uncharacteristic of him to be late, meaning he was in the house somewhere. The thought alone made your skin crawl.

“One more.” Your friend called out over the music, pouring you each another hefty shot. Your eyes got wide. You knew you’d have to take a break from drinking after this shot, otherwise you’d end up butt ass naked in the middle of this party.

Another hefty shot later, and you were already feeling the buzz from the alcohol. Your veins felt tingly and your limbs felt weightless. You each made yourselves your mixed drink of choice, and decided to make your way out to the makeshift dance floor in your parents’ spacious living room. They had a portable disco floor, as well as a disco ball hung from the ceiling. No one took parties more seriously than your parents.

Your friend grabbed your arm and pulled you onto the dance floor, with “Talking in Your Sleep” by the Romantics blasting from the speakers. Your eyes wandered around the room trying to find the brown eyed man you’d be longing to see. Sure enough, you spotted him. He was sitting on the sofa, leaning back with his legs spread out in front of him. He had a glass of what appeared to be whiskey in his hand, resting on his thigh. You gulped when you noticed he was already looking at you. You quickly looked away and took a sip of the tequila sour you half-assed at the kitchen makeshift bar.

You made eye contact with your friend, and you gave her panic eyes to let her know you found him. She caught on almost instantly, and took that as a queue to scoot out of your line of sight. She leaned closer to you to say something in your ear.

“Go sit next to him.” She suggested loudly into your ear.

You shot her a look of unease. Wouldn’t that be too obvious? You shook your head no rapidly in response. It was too early in the night for you to do something as ballsy as that.

After about half an hour, your friend’s drink was empty and she was dragging you back to the kitchen. Your drink was still three-fourths full. Your stomach was bubbling with anxiety knowing that Joel had a direct view of you in your anything but conservative outfit. Besides, you were scared for your actions if you ingested any more alcohol.

Your friend took two more shots and mixed herself another strong cocktail. You knew she was going to be shitfaced in the matter of minutes. You rub your forehead and sigh. It’s going to be a quick night for her.

Your predictions were correct.

Forty minutes passed and her cocktail was gone, and so was she. She was so plastered that she couldn’t stand up straight, constantly grabbing your arm for support. You looked around the room and immediately made eye contact with Joel. He’s watching the both of you intensely, his head nodding over to the side as he observes your friend stumbling around. You’re fully embarrassed at how gone your friend was already. Your stomach flips when you noticed Joel was lifting himself off his spot in the sofa, making his way towards the both of you. He grabbed onto your arm, a look of concern crossing his features.

“Come on.” He said shortly, moving his arm from yours to hers, helping her stand up somewhat straight. “Let’s take her upstairs.”

You glanced down at your friend and her head was lulling to the side, her eyes fluttering shut. There was no salvaging her. You nodded in response to Joel and helped him practically carry your friend upstairs to your bedroom. After her nearly falling every few steps, you finally make it to your bedroom. You noticed Joel’s eyes wandering around the walls of your room as he took in the decor. You had various band posters still hanging in your childhood bedroom, many of them being 60’s rock bands that your dad showed you. You gently lay your friend down onto your bed, and almost immediately she’s snoring.

“Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry about this, Joel.” You mutter, looking up at him with apologetic eyes. You absentmindedly toy with your hands in front of you. Despite the shots you did take, you were still feeling nervous; the liquid courage wasn’t doing its job.

Joel stepped closer to you and shook his head. His brown eyes were soft and his eyebrows were furrowed.

“It was nothing, really.” He assures you, taking a glance back at your friend. He was amused at just how fast your friend fell asleep. He turned back to look at you and felt something flutter deep in his gut.

He had kept his eyes in you all night. He couldn’t believe how grown you were. Sure, he had known you since you were young, but you were a woman now. You had always been pretty, but now, you were stunning. He felt disgusting about it. Of all the women in his life, none of them compared to you, his best friend’s daughter. The entire night he had watched the way your latex skirt was fighting to stay over the plump flesh of your ass. Your top wasn’t much better; it left little to the imagination, your nipples peaking through the thin fabric of it. You were genuinely perfect in his eyes, and it was causing him the most intense moral battle of his life.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked quietly. His eyes were wandering over you, but he was saying nothing. It looked as though he was fighting something internally.

“What are you doing here?” He asked blandly, ignoring your question entirely. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

“What do you mean?” You pondered, crossing your arms over your chest, unintentionally pushing your boobs up further, placing them in perfect display for Joel.

“You could be anywhere, yet here you are drunk at your parents’ party.” He said, glancing down at your chest, hoping you wouldn’t notice, but of course you did. You chuckle in response.

“I just graduated college, Joel. I’m home temporarily until I can find something full time. What’s the matter? Am I inconveniencing you somehow?” You asked with pure sass.

“Well not entirely, no.” Joel says, stepping closer to you. “You’d think you and your friend would have a little self control considering the environment. This isn’t college, sweetheart.”

“I beg your pardon? I’ve barely drank anything. For god sake I helped you carry her.” You get defensive, emphatically gesturing towards your friend that’s passed out in your bed. “And unfortunately she could’ve been way worse than this.”

“You should’ve stopped her before she was fighting to keep herself standing.” Joel scolded you, his brows furrowing further.

“Aww what’s wrong, Joel? You have no children of your own so you have to parent me?” You snarled, stepping another inch closer to him. Joel frowns, his fist clenching at his hip.

“You’re a little fucking brat, ain’t ya?” Joel growls, getting centimeters away from your face. He was so close that you could feel his hot breath on the skin of your face.

“And you’re just a dickhead, huh?” You fire back.

Joel grabbed you by the forearm and tugged you towards your bedroom door. Before you could protest, Joel was dragging you down the hall to a spare bedroom. He swiftly pulled you inside and locked the door behind you. He grabbed you firmly by the throat, squeezing just the sides as to not restrict your airflow.

“Bit of an attitude problem, eh?” Joel spoke sternly. You gulped, gawking up into his crinkled eyes. “Might just have to sort you out.”

“What are you doing, Joel?” You squeaked out, your hand reaching up to grab ahold of his forearm. His face moved closer to yours, his eyes moving down to your crimson lips.

“I can only imagine you put on this poor excuse of a skirt to try and get someone to pay attention to you in the way you’re craving. You’re a little fucking whore, aren’t you?” Joel growls, his free hand moving down to your skirt, pulling it away from your body so it smacked back against your plump thighs. You gasped. You didn’t know how to respond to that. Was this actually happening?

After years of secretly fantasizing about a moment like this, it was finally happening, and you were flabbergasted.

“Answer me. Tell me what you are.” His grip around your throat slowly moved up to your jaw, his fingers squeezing your cheeks, making your lips purse.

You groaned in response, a hand trailing up Joel’s torso to his chest, laying a flat hand against him. His heart was beating rapidly. You glanced down and noticed the bulge straining against his vintage Levi jeans. He was enjoying this a little too much. You forced your face away from his grip, grabbing his wrist as hard as you could.

“I’m not a whore.” Your words were laced with venom. You were frustrated. Not because of the substance of Joel’s words, but because you were so fucking aroused. If it were anyone else, you probably would’ve planted a firm kick in their groin or sucker punched them in the lip. His words were disgusting, but you were eating it up.

“No?” Joel cocked his head at you. His free hand snakes up under your skirt, his fingertips pressing against your folds. His fingers were met with moisture. Your panties were soaked through. His gaze fell to his hand, then back up to your doe eyes. He smirked devilishly at you, his hand moving to your face. With his thumb, he pawed at your bottom lip, pulling it away from your teeth.

“Your cunt says otherwise, darling.” He muttered, his breath fanning across your face once more. You swallowed hard. You averted your eyes from him, his gaze making you feel entirely too hot.

“My parents.” You blurted out, your gaze returning to his momentarily. He swallows, his thumb still sitting by your mouth.

“They won’t know.” He said. You retracted your grip from his forearm, and he took that as an opportunity to run his finger up the outside of your arm painfully slow. “What’s wrong sweetheart? Scared of your daddy finding out?”

Your lips parted, a harsh exhale escaping your throat. Your body was on fire, your skin littered with goosebumps from Joel’s touch. To any normal person, this situation would be incredibly alarming. Yes, your moral compass was clawing at the back of your mind, but you craved interaction. Your morals were out the window, your desires taking superiority.

“Yes.” You whispered, your gaze falling to Joel’s lips. They were tempting you.

“If you don’t want this, stop me.”

Joel’s hand moved from your arm back towards the bottom of your skirt, pushing it up over your thighs, your red panties on full display.

“Fuck.” Joel growled, his fingertips grazing your mound through the lacy fabric. He pushed your panties to the side, his finger running through your folds, collecting your arousal. “Stop me, angel.” He teased.

His fingertip ghosted over your sensitive clit, your legs jolting in response, a whimper leaving your mouth. His mouth hovered over the soft skin of your neck, his breath stirring up goosebumps.

“S’matter sweetheart?” Joel muttered, planting a soft kiss to your throat. “Tell me what you need.”

“N-need more.” You said, your brows furrowing in desperation. You glanced down at his hand between your legs, your lower gut fluttering at the sight. He applied more pressure to the circles he was dancing over your swollen bud, the pleasure sending your head to lull backwards. You whimpered more, your legs beginning to feel like jello.

“You sound so pathetic.” Joel spat, working his fingers faster on your clit. You exhaled unevenly, your hand coming down on Joel’s bicep for stability.

You felt that familiar white heat beginning to ignite low in your belly, your cunt throbbing steadily. Your eyes squeezed shut. You were close— but Joel knew that. He wasn’t going to let you come just yet. Without warning, Joel halted his actions, his hand leaving your folds. You could’ve cried in that moment. Joel grabbed your forearm and tugged you towards the bed, pushing you down onto the duvet.

“Joel, please. I need to cum.” You whined, your head falling back into the soft mattress. Joel purses his lips at you, his hand running along the smooth skin of your leg, inching closer to where you needed his attention most.

“Jesus, sweetheart. At least you know what you want.” Joel said, squeezing the flesh of your thigh with the rough skin of his palm. “Here’s how this is gonna go. First I’m going to taste you. Then, I’m going to fuck you until you forget how to think. Got it?”

You nodded pathetically, grinding your hips down onto the mattress, desperate for some sort of friction. Joel ghosted his hands over your thighs to the seam of your latex skirt, gripping it between his fingers. In a swift motion, Joel tugged the skirt down your legs and off your body, tossing it somewhere on the floor. He left your boots on, not quite wanting to get rid of them yet. Your pussy looks so pretty underneath the transparent lace fabric of your thong. It left little to nothing to Joel’s imagination. Your breasts were spilling out of your black top, your areolas peaking out. You looked breathtaking.

“Fuck, angel. I wish you could see yourself. So pretty for me.” Joel muttered, lowering his face to your groin, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh. He ran his large hand up the back of your thigh, squeezing every few inches. You bite your lip and you stared down at his face as he littered kissed across your thighs. His salt and pepper beard added even more texture to the sensations you were feeling. He slipped his fingers underneath the fabric of your panties and slowly pulled them down your tights and over your boots, leaving your heat bare. Joel lowered his face down to your core, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin. He pressed a kiss to your pelvic bone, then ghosted his lips in a line down to your sensitive bud. He planted another kiss over your clit, taking his sweet time teasing you. Your pussy was throbbing at this point, desperate for any sort of touch.

“Joel please.” You pleaded, grinding your hips up towards his mouth. “I need your tongue.”

“Good girl.” He said, lowering his tongue to your folds, licking a wet stripe up your vulva, tracing a circle around your clit, sucking down on it gently. He moaned into your flesh, the vibrations sending a chill down your spine. His tongue began to work faster, flicking up and down and side to side over your clit. He brought his middle finger to your opening, ghosting circular motions over it, before slowly pushing it inside of you. You exhaled deeply at the sensation. He began pumping his finger rhythmically in and out of you, paying special attention to curl his fingertip upwards to brush against your g spot. As he felt your walls growing accustom to the girth of his singular digit, he added a second finger, pumping faster. Just from his fingers and tongue, you already felt fucked out of your mind. The pleasure sent shocks down your legs and up your spine, your head rolling back into the mattress in euphoria. A quiet moan slipped through your cherry lips, your fists grabbing the bedding for leverage to cope with the immense pleasure coursing through you.

“Joel.” You whimpered, one of your hands jetting down to grab at his hair as he lapped at your wet heat. His soft brown eyes flicked up to meet yours at the sound of your voice. Your moan went straight to his already throbbing cock.

“Christ, baby.” He groaned, lifting away from your core to unbutton his Levi’s. His hand fumbled with the zipper to get them off as fast as he could. The anticipation was killing him; he was so hard that it was beginning to hurt. He needed inside you immediately.

Finally managing to slide his jeans down his legs, his cock was straining against his boxers. The tent was revealing in itself; you already knew he was packing a punch. It felt painfully slow, but finally Joel slipped off his boxers, revealing his erection. Leaking at the tip, he brushed his thumb over, cleaning up the precum that had accumulated from tasting you.

You sat up from the mattress and grabbed his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his. Your lips moved against his in a passionate rush. You could taste yourself on his lips. Another whimper rose from your throat, the moan vibrating off his lips. The sound of your wet kiss filled the room as he lowered his body over yours to lay you back down against the bed. His hand moved from his cock to your breast, pulling it out of your top and giving it a firm squeeze.

“Fuck.” He muttered against your lips as you rocked your hips into his. You needed his touch desperately.

“Fuck me.” You breathed out, pulling away to look him in the eye. “Please.”

That was all Joel needed to hear. He reached down to take his cock in his hand again, guiding his top to press into your folds. He ran back and forth against your slick, his precum mixing with your arousal. His eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as he felt your wetness already beginning to coat him. His eyes lifted back to meet yours as he began to slowly press his tip into your entrance, the stretch already making you feel crazed. Your lips parted, an exhale escaping your lips as he pressed himself into your further. Your hands darted up to grab onto his biceps as leverage. He lowered down to your lips, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to them as he pushed his length inside of you to the hilt. Another moan escaped your lips.

“Y’okay?” Joel breathed out, slowly pumping in and out of you, allowing you time to adjust. You nodded your head, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“More.” You begged. “I need more.”

Joel ran his hand from your thigh up your belly, dragging his finger tip slowly to take in every inch of your skin. He reached your neck, wrapping his calloused fingertips around your throat, carefully squeezing on the sides. He leaned down to meet your lips, taking your bottom lip between his teeth momentarily.

“So fucking needy.” He grumbled against your mouth, his eyelids fluttering closed.

Suddenly, Joel began pounding into you. His hot breath fanned over your face as he rammed in and out of you, his length reached the deepest parts of you. You gasped, your hand reached up to grab his wrist that was busy squeezing your throat. Your eyes rolled back in your head and he slammed into you over and over. You were sure he was hitting you so deep that he was nicking your cervix. Just when you thought you couldn’t be more overwhelmed with pleasure, Joel’s free hand snaked between your thighs, his thumb finding your clit, ghosting gentle circles over the sensitive nub. You squeaked out a moan, the pleasure overcoming your senses completely. Your legs began to shake from the stimulation, your lower belly muscles tensing from the overwhelming sensation. Your breath was shaking, the oxygen feeling as through it had completely left your lungs.

“F-fuck.” You stuttered as Joel thrusted into you. “I’m close.”

Joel took this as an opportunity to slide out of you, wasting no time in flipping you onto your belly, laying a hard slap against your bare ass cheek. He groaned as your ass jiggled from the slap, his hand coming back down to grab a handful of your flesh. You pressed your face down into the duvet, letting out a moan. Your pussy was throbbing from the sudden lack of attention. You wiggled your hips, nonverbally begging for Joel’s cock. He chucked, slapping your ass once more before pressing himself back at your entrance, ramming into you fully, his hips meeting your ass in a rush. He grabbed a cheek with his rough fingertips, pulling your ass apart to get a full view of himself slamming into you. Your tightest hole was on perfect display for him.

“One day I’m going to claim you here too.” Joel growled, his fingertip grazing the ring of your asshole. You gasped, your forehead coming down onto the bedding, pressing your face down into the duvet to cover your moan. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? Me claiming your tight little ass as mine?”

You nodded rapidly, a straggled breath leaving your mouth. It was so goddamn hard for your mind to focus on anything except the feeling of his tip grazing the opening of your cervix with every thrust. Once again, Joel reached his hand down to toy at your clit, bringing you closer to your climax. The white heat hit you again as your legs began to shake under you. Joel wasn’t far behind you, and his pace wasn’t easing up.

His hips met yours hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping echoing off the walls of the spare bedroom. If it weren’t for the music thumping downstairs, your sinful act would’ve already been heard throughout the entire house. Joel leaned down, kissing you against your spine, his hand kneading your ass.

“F-fuck, where do you want me? Your mouth? Or should I fill you up?” Joel grunted, his hand snaking around your front to firmly grab your breast, pinching your nipple between his fingertips.

You gasped, the stimulation for your nipple slipping you into the beginning of your orgasm. You didn’t answer him, the feeling of your impending climax completely taking over your body.

“Look at you cumming around my cock. Such a good fucking slut.” Joel growled, his pace somehow quickening further. His hand reached up to your hair, grabbing a fistful of locks and pulling your head backwards. His other hand reached around to your throat as he bent down to kiss you from the intense angle, your orgasm taking over you entirely. Your toes began to curl beneath you, your pussy clamping around Joel’s cock that was twitching deep inside you. Your pussy clenched down around his length, hugging it perfectly.

“Fuck.” Joel whimpered, his high hitting him like a train. Your spasming canal clamped down around him as he came in hot spurts, coating your walls deep inside of you. Your walls clenched around him, milking every ounce of cum from his length.

His thrusts slowed as his seed filled you up, his hands grabbing your hips for stability as he came the hardest he’d ever came in his life. He moaned as he slowly slipped his spent cock out of you, some of his release dripping out of your used up hole. The sight was intoxicating.

“Fuck.” Joel breathed out again, taking in the ruined state of your folds. He ran his fingers down your slick, mixing his cum with yours. You flinched at the sensitivity of your pussy, whining as he brushed over your clit.

You were spent. Your face was still pressed against the mattress, your ass still perched in the air. Joel’s cum was slowly leaking out of you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You were too fucked out of your mind to notice that Joel had left the bed to retrieve a wet rag from the attached bathroom. You winced as he gently cleaned up the juices spilling from you.

“You look so beautiful with my cum dripping out of you.” He spoke, running a hand up and down the back of your thigh. He pressed a kiss to your sore ass cheek from where he had smacked it.

You rolled over onto your back, your tender breasts jiggling from the movement. Joel leaned down and took a breast into his mouth, gently sucking on your hardened nipple.

“As much as I’d love to stay here and fuck you all night, I should go before your daddy starts to wonder where we went.” Joel said, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

A pit grew deep in your gut at the thought of Joel leaving you, but you knew the nature of this interaction and it would be silly of you to expect any different. You gazed up at him and frowned.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Joel shook his head and straightened up, moving his attention to dress himself. He began buttoning his flannel that he’d taken off during your interaction at some point that you hadn’t noticed. You watched in silence as he pulled his boxers and Levi’s back up over his legs.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Joel said after he was fully dressed. You were still laying on the bed completely nude attempting to recover from the mindblowing sex you’d just endured. Joel walked towards the door, turning briefly to look at your one last time.

“You might want to get dressed, sweetheart. Hate to have your daddy walk in to see my cum spilling out of you.” He winked, then disappeared out of the door, leaving you alone fucked out of your mind.

@wolfstarmicrofic | April 23:rd Teacher AU | Also inspired by this incredible post | 971 words

“It’s because I’m gay.”

Dora’s words had echoed in his head for the better duration of two years.

Two years.

Jesus Christ.

It sounds more clear now that there isn’t an ever pressing haze of alcohol clouding his brain. But alas, he frankly can’t afford to be an alcoholic anymore. He wasn’t even that good at it. A bottle of wine every evening and Remus just turned into a weepier version of his otherwise quite bleak self and watched old rom-coms on tv until he fell asleep on the couch.

But an English teacher’s salary isn’t hefty enough to really support a proper addiction and Remus hadn’t ever been the type of person to steal a car or break into someone’s house just to fuel his habit. With his luck he’d get caught right away anyway.

“This can’t come as a surprise, Rem, we never even had an active sexlife.”

Sure, fine, maybe they hadn’t. But they had been married for years; university best friends turned adult lovers and confidants turned married at twenty five and divorced at thirty three.

The divorce had at least been simple, easy, just like anything else about their relationship. One second she was there, dying her hair in the tub and staining it all bubblegum pink — the next she was moving out and downloading lesbian dating apps.

Remus munches salad from his little packed lunch. He should be planning his classes whilst having lunch — he refuses to, he’d rather sit here all bent-backed and pretend that the salad actually tastes better, that he isn’t regretting moving across the country to get away from it all. That his new life isn’t sinking his mood just like the old one did.

There’s a knock on his classroom door.

Remus looks up from his sad salad. “Come in?”

The door, covered in prints of Shakespeare plays and old illustrations of Of Mice and Men and other English class classics, opens to reveal the knocker.

Sirius has his hair in a bun today, black strands tied back and into a scrunchy that could rival the cheekiest of cheerleaders’. Other than that he is in his usual all black attire, all except his rainbow colored lanyard which holds his keys and the miniature periodic table keyring.

Sirius smiles. It’s all gray eyes that look like they’re sparkling under the hideous fluorescents and can make even the toughest lunch lady blush.

“Hi Remus, is this a bad time?”

Remus tries to swallow the tightness in his throat.

He can’t really deal with Sirius popping by like this, he’s done it quite frequently since Remus’ first week.

“No, not really,” he says, trying to keep his hands from fiddling and his eyes from darting around the room. “What can I help you with?”

Sirius shrugs, careless and relaxed. “I was just wondering if I could borrow your stapler. Seems like mine’s wandered off.”

Sirius drives a motorbike to school.

Remus saw him get off it in the parking lot not too long ago. It felt like the world stood still or maybe moved in slow motion when Sirius removed his helmet and shook his hair out, kitted out in leather. Then his neck got all hot, for some god forsaken reason, and he had to go splash cold water on his face before facing his students in the first period.

So many of Sirius’ supplies have gone missing in the short time where they have worked together.

“Erhm… Yeah, sure— absolutely,” Remus stumbles through sentences as he stands to go fetch the stapler in the supply closet. He turns the little key and quickly looks over the closet, a bit too aware that Sirius is coming closer; if he isn’t misinterpreting the scuff of boots on the floor.

He grabs the stapler, turns around. “Here.”

Sirius is right behind him, right in front of him now. Looking up at Remus with his easy smile and rows of lovely black lashes and… and… and pink lips.

“Thanks, I’ll give it back as soon as I’m done, okay?”

“Yeah…”

Sirius leaves. Remus has to go sit down, he’s feeling dizzy.

“Are you even attracted to me, Rem? I mean— it’s fine if you aren’t. Maybe I’m not your type or something.”

There was always something hidden in Dora’s words, at least in those words. Remus hadn’t come any closer to figuring them out, not even two years later.

He just sits in his darkening apartment, playing those words over and over whilst watching-but-not-really-watching tv. He should really go over to Sirius’ classroom tomorrow. You know, just to make sure he remembers to give the stapler back. And it has absolutely nothing to do with what Dora said those years ago, nothing at all.

In the following morning, Remus dresses in his good shirt and wrestles with his hair for a touch longer than usual. Why? Don’t worry about it.

He goes into work with a determination and anxiety churning in his belly.

He walks up to Sirius’ classroom, a print of Neil deGrasse Tyson on the door, and knocks.

Deep breath.

Sirius opens the door. Light eyes and smiling lips and an overall undeniably beautiful face.

Stapler, that’s what he’s there for.

“Will you go out with me?”

What?! No!

Remus was supposed to ask about the stapler!

Fuck!

Sirius just looks back up at him, glittering eyes and widening smile. He doesn’t say anything.

Remus tries to backpedal. “The stapler — I really need my stapler, that’s what I meant.”

Sirius just smiles. “So I just missed the point two second window of going out with you?”

There’s cotton in Remus’ ears, ringing in his brain. “No— I mean… Wait— Did you want to go out with me?”

Sirius’ smile looks like it’s almost too big for his face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The Landlord’s Property

Male Alpha Landlord x Female Omega Reader (CW: Non-con, overstimulation, oral sex, vaginal sex, female reader, crying, reader tied up, a/b/o dynamics, fingering, praise, general yandere behavior, scenting, musk, pheromones, chloroformed reader, panty stealing, biting, claiming) Word Count: 7.2k (This may be the longest fic I have ever written, certainly up there, I hope everyone enjoys it, it was a commission from @dusty-void) 

You stared blankly at the computer screen, your face illuminated by the harsh white glow of your writing program, completely empty, in front of you. Though you had been trying for hours you could simply not will your brain into action and get any words typed out, now that it was past 3am in the morning you let out a defeated sigh as it had become painfully clear that simply no work was going to get done tonight. You were a freelance writer. You worked from home completing various assignments from content mills, websites, and even dabbled in short stories. The pay was not particularly glamorous, but you had managed to find a very cheap duplex to rent, and it helped that your landlord was very lenient and did not seem to mind that your rent payments were frequently just a bit late. Though you were still always worried about what would happen if he suddenly decided he had had enough. You turned off your computer and settled into your unkempt nest, hoping in vain that you could put your worries aside and be able to sleep peacefully for once. When you woke up from your fitful sleep you realized that you had actually managed to wake up later than you had intended. Feeling almost as if you had not slept at all you forced yourself up from bed and threw on some low effort clothing, you were just going to be alone and in the house all day so you figured it did not really matter what you wore. After getting dressed you trudged your way into the kitchen, starting your late morning off right with your breakfast of choice, pop-tarts. You quickly ate your sugar packed meal before making some coffee and dragging yourself to your work desk and booting up your computer. Your penchant for quick, convenient, sugary meals was probably what had lead you to be as chubby as you were, but you pushed that uncomfortable thought aside for now. You heard your fire alarm go off in its unmistakable shrill tone, once again letting you know that its battery was low as it had been periodically for the past two days. You made another mental note to order some batteries or something and get it fixed. Before getting to work you text your several online friends, you did not go out too much, but you very successfully maintained many good online friendships. After a sending a few hellos and making a plan or two to play a game sometime later this week with some buddies you opened up your writing programs and after a few minute of once again staring blankly at the blinking cursor your brain finally whirred into action and you actually started to make some solid progress. Just when you started to really hit your stride your doorbell rang. The first time you ignored it but after a couple rings you grumbled and figured you would just have to answer it. You grumbled and got up, just knowing this would throw off the roll you were on. You answered the door and saw your alpha landlord Nathan smiling and looking down at you. You were immediately worried you had done something wrong but before you could say a word he spoke. “Heya, I just happened to hear your fire alarm beeping since the wall it is on is adjacent to mine, and I figured maybe you needed some batteries and help reaching it, since omegas tend to be a bit short.” There was nothing angry or even annoyed in his tone, there never really seemed to be, he was his normal amicable self just genuinely offering to help. His green eyes bright and a friendly smile on his face. Even his vibrant orange hair seemed happy. You felt bad though because you were sure you must have annoyed him with how inconsiderate you had been, you had not even thought of him being able to hear the alarm. He was probably just concealing his displeasure. “O-oh, um, thanks that’s too kind of you, I am so sorry for not getting to it sooner,” you stammered while averting your gaze. “Hey, it’s no problem at all.” He went into your kitchen and noticed all the boxes of junk food as well as the wrappers that were in the garbage can which was close to where he had to stand to change the batteries. It was not that he was trying to be nosy or judgmental, but it made him a bit sad that you had no one taking care of you properly. You were a cute omega and probably couldn’t afford good food or did not have the time to prepare it with how busy you were with writing. And you must have been very busy, he could tell by the dark eyes and by the scent of your stressed out pheromones that you probably were not getting an adequate amount of sleep. It tugged at his heart, you were trying so hard, you clearly put yourself through a lot and had trouble with sleeping, eating habits, and getting the rent in on time. It was becoming more and more clear to him that what you really needed was an alpha helping you out and maybe being your mate and taking better care of you than you were capable of taking care of yourself. “Okay, all done, but if you need anything else please don’t hesitate to ask me okay?” He left your home and went back to his, telling himself that he would do a lot more to check up on you in case you were too scared or nervous to ask for help. You heard his words and mumbled out an affirmation that you would definitely ask if you needed something, but you knew that wasn’t true, you tended to just ignore most little problems and inconveniences until they either went away completely by themselves or until they could no longer be ignored. There were light bulbs that needed changing, your AC unit needed to be looked at, and you could probably be a bit tidier, for example. All things you needed to do yourself but were just too depressed and anxious to actually do. You were lucky Nathan did all the outside work, diligently cleaning the gutters, power washing the building, raking the leaves, and mowing the lawn even on your side of the building. And he was always in a nice tank top showing off his powerful body, but that surely wasn’t for your benefit, you thought. He was an alpha after all, and they always enjoyed exposing their muscles whenever given the chance. Of course he really was doing it to attract your gaze, though it never seemed to work. No matter how many times he made advances or hinted that he wanted to be friends you seemed to be completely uninterested. You didn’t check him out when he was doing physical outdoor labor, you did not pay attention when he was working in your unit, and you did not even seem to notice his scent, which was always powerful after working up a sweat for you. He even often worked out before coming over just to make his pheromones really strong. His mind could not entertain the thought that you might be uninterested though, not after all he did for you. You probably just needed more attention to feel comfortable with him, you were probably just too shy and insecure and needed a bit more positive attention and encouragement, so he decided that he would continue to help you as often as possible in the belief that you would eventually come around. Weeks passed since he fixed your alarm, and he was beginning to think that you would never approach him. Nathan was yearning for any excuse to go in your home again, where the air smelled so full of your scent and where he could hear that lovely voice of yours, but there was never a reason to go over there of his own initiative and you never approached him. The increasingly desperate alpha decided he would have to make his own opportunities for you to come to him. He knew when you would go on one of your infrequent walks to the corner store. They were like clockwork, you always went on the same days of the month. You normally were gone at least thirty minutes when you left and that gave him more than enough time to sabotage your home. He knew it was wrong to do it, but if there was no other way to get you to approach him then he had to. Nathan was sure that you liked him, you were just too shy and unsure of yourself to let him know you were noticing his advances, and this would also be another good way to show how handy and helpful he would be as your mate. To show he could take care of you. Nathan made sure to scrub himself clean of any scent that could potentially be left as evidence of his actions, then, as soon as you were gone and were out of sight down the road he went to your side of the duplex and rushed to your breaker panel. He flipped a breaker switch and replaced one of your fuses with a blown one, thus shutting off electricity to a large portion of the building. The alpha seriously doubted that you would know what to do to fix the problem and even if you did you probably did not have any fuses laying around. You did not exactly give off a prepared and organized vibe. As he started to leave a curious smell hit his nostrils, beckoning him into your room. He was powerless to resist seeking out the source of that heavenly aroma, that aroma that smelled so purely of you. He followed the scent to your bedroom and slowly opened the door, he knew such an invasion was even worse than what he had already done, but the smell was demanding that he follow his instincts and find the source. Immediately upon stepping into your room a wave of dizzying pheromones and the scent of slick nearly made him stumble backwards. There, in your laundry pile, he found what was emanating the smell that was causing his pants to grow tight. A pair of slick soaked panties lay on top of your laundry hamper, as if waiting for him. He never could have imagined when he entered your home that your heat had just ended and such a treasure would be left for him to enjoy. He pulled them to his nose and inhaled the scent deeply. He blushed when he thought about the fact that his nose was touching fabric that has caressed your pussy. So sweet and a bit musky, an omega’s most delicious scent reserved only for mates. He had to stop himself from masturbating right then and there, because you certainly would have smelled him had he done so. He decided that it would be okay for him to take a pair because you had several similarly colored and messy ones in your hamper and it would be unlikely that you noticed just one missing. Your landlord quickly left the room and closed the door behind him before retreating back to his home. He put your panties under his pillow and thoroughly washed his face off. His trophy would have to be enjoyed later, when you got back you would soon discover the sabotaged electricity and come to him for help. When you got back from your trip to the store, bags of junk food that passed as groceries in your mind in your hands, you did not notice anything amiss. You were completely unaware that anyone had been there. When you went to turn on the kitchen light you realized that it did not work at all. You needed to change the light bulb, that was the obvious thought that entered your mind, but when you opened your fridge to put your food in it you realized the light inside of it was also not working. That was really odd, your power couldn’t be out, the light in the living room came right on when you stepped in your home. You checked some other appliances and it seemed that all electricity in your kitchen was just… not working. Anxiety welled up within you, you did not know the first thing about fixing this type of issue but you dreaded asking Nathan, you knew he was sweet and would probably be happy to take a look at the issue but you really hated to be an inconvenience and in general you just preferred to be independent. You swallowed your anxiety and made your way outside slowly as if each foot was made by lead. You stared at his door, breathed deeply, and rang the doorbell. Nathan answered fairly quickly, opening the door and greeting you with that jovial smile of his. “Hey, how are you? Anything I can help you with?” “Um, yeah, it seems that my electricity is out in my kitchen, I, uh, wouldn’t normally bug you with it, but I don’t want my food to go bad…,” you explained while looking down awkwardly, unable to meet his gaze. “Oh, sure, I can take a look at it no problem, honestly it sounds like maybe a blown fuse. I have some spare ones, let me go grab them just in case.” He went back to his house before returning with something in his hand. You both went into your unit and he walked into the kitchen and checked all of your appliances to verify they really weren’t working before going over to the panel in the wall and pulling out what you guessed was a fuse and replacing it before flipping a switch. Suddenly, much to your relief, all the appliances whirred to life. “Thanks so much! I am sorry I did not know it was something so simple…” “Hey it’s no pr-,” Nathan began to respond, but stopped when he turned around and noticed that you had already retreated back to your computer, typing away diligently. Nathan was beginning to get a bit frustrated, not at you but just at the situation and with myself. He just did not know what he had to do to get your eyes on him, you seemed absolutely immune to flirting and showing off… It was time for the direct approach. Maybe things really just flew over your head or you were afraid to give him any attention for some reason, maybe you had been hurt in a previous relationship, or maybe you just needed someone to show you that you were worth the affection. But whatever it was he decided he would have to use the direct approach, though he would have preferred to have been getting you to notice him a bit more before he did so there was simply no other option left. Tomorrow he would simply ask you out directly. He was a big strong alpha that took care of you, surely you would not say no. He finally left so you could breathe a sigh of relief, you really did not like having others over. You were grateful and all but under Nathan’s smile you were positively convinced that he was judging you, you always caught him staring at you and it made you more than a bit nervous. With him gone you finished up what you had started on, ate one of your dietary staples, a pack of ramen noodles, and washed up before staying up too late and eventually passing out in your bed while watching YouTube videos. Nathan knows that you do not get up early like he does, so he spends all day getting ready. He put together a thoughtfully crafted courting package. Sweet treats that omegas tended to be fond of and some particularly fragrant flowers all wrapped up in one of his slightly worn shirts so that you had a token that smelled of him. He even made sure it was your favorite color, which he guessed based on the décor in your home. He was pretty sure of himself, so he lacked any nervousness when he approached your door and rung the bell. When you heard it you grumbled, as usual you did not want to be disturbed, especially when you had actually managed to start working. You had not even really bothered to get dressed yet, you had been so busy between catching up on sleep and actually being productive with your writing that you had completely forgotten to change out of the clothes from yesterday and now that you had someone at the door you were now painfully aware that your hair was a bit of a mess as well. You straightened your hair the best you could with your fingers and checked to see who was at the door before answering. When you saw that it was Nathan you felt a sharp panic. Had you forgotten to pay rent? Had you done something wrong? Was he finally tired of dealing with you and had decided you needed to leave. Taking a deep breath you opened the door and greeted him. “Oh, uh, hi Nathan, what’s wrong?” “Nothing’s wrong, I just wanted to ask if you would let me court you? You’re such a cute omega and I really think we are compatible. Don’t you think we would make a good match?” He tried to hand you a courting package wrapped up in one of his scented shirts but you did not take it. “Oh, um, I am really sorry about this, but I am not uh… really looking for a relationship right now. I am just trying to focus on myself and my writing… sorry.” Nathan regarded you blankly for a few moments that dragged on and felt like an awkward eternity before he finally acknowledged your words and responded a bit frantically, “If you’re worried about taking care of yourself you wouldn’t need to! I could take care of all your needs!” “That’s the thing, I really just want to make it on my own and take care of myself completely before I have a mate. I am so sorry I hope you understand…” He nodded solemnly and you nervously closed the door. You hoped he didn’t hate you now, he was a nice guy but you had been completely honest with him. Of course Nathan did not hate you now, in fact it may have been better if he had. Instead he was more determined than ever to make you his. His mind just would not accept in any way, shape, form, or fashion that you were uninterested in him. Instead he was in denial, thinking and reaching for any plausible explanation as to why you would want him but say no to his courtship. The delusional alpha finally reached the most reasonable conclusion, you just did not think you were good enough to date him. It was rather obvious when he thought over all the evidence. You lived like someone who had at least partially given up on themselves. You hastily ate whatever was the lowest effort junk food available, your sleep habits were awful, you never left your home and as he was not aware of your online social life he thought you were utterly friendless. It all added up perfectly in his mind, you thought you were bad and needed to be elevated and you desperately needed someone to care for you, even if you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it. And, as your self-appointed alpha, it was up to him to make sure your needs were met. He sat down and calmly thought of a plan, the fact that you lived not only in an a home connected to his and owned by him made everything much easier for him. The next time you went on one of your little store trips he would once again put a nefarious plan into motion. Your soon to be lover collected all the necessary materials to have a romantic evening with you, his chubby little omega. He had prepared a meal of lasagna, garlic bread, and a side salad with a fancy bottle of wine. As well as some crucial extras such as rope and chloroform. As soon as you were gone he waltzed right on in and set up a lovely candle lit dinner for you and him to enjoy, you would get to see another way that he could take care of you, making you tasty and nutritious proper meals. When you opened the door to your home you were greeted by the scent of Italian herbs, cheese, the hearty aroma of meat in tomato sauce, fresh cut veggies, and garlic. You were confused, sometimes you could detect the smell of food from Nathan cooking next door, but never this intensely. You took a few steps inside when suddenly someone strong gripped you from behind and put a rag over your face. You thrashed and kicked in a panicked frenzy as a sickeningly sweet smell flooded your nostrils. Your kicks quickly grew feeble before everything went black. When you came to you were seated at your kitchen table, your head fuzzy and rope tightly bound your legs and torso. Your hands were free enough to be able to eat, but they would be useless in breaking your binds. In front of you there was a dinner with presentation that would not be out of place at a five star restaurant. A floral centerpiece, candle light, pasta, salad, and garlic bread. And across the table, staring intensely at you with a smile going from ear to ear, was Nathan. You could smell the excitement radiating off of him, this was a crazed alpha with their mate. “N-Nathan? What’s… going on?” Your fuzzy brain struggled to make sense of what was happening but was rapidly catching on as the drugging continued to fade. “Oh good darling, I am so glad you are awake from your nap! Why don’t you dig in? I worked really hard on a nice homemade dinner for you~” He said everything so casually and sweetly. As if a man talking to his wife and not a man talking to a woman he had forcefully knocked out and restrained. You stared at him silently, your mind struggling to come to grips with what was happening to you. Nathan had always been so nice to you, how could he be capable of something like this? “Go ahead and eat pumpkin, no need to be shy, I know how much you needed a good home cooked meal!” “Wh-what the hell is wrong with you?” You asked angrily as you glared at him, probably the most direct eye contact you had ever made with him. “What do you mean? You don’t like pumpkin as a pet name? We can try others and see what f-” “N-no! What? I don’t mean the name, I mean the fact that you knocked me out and tied me up!!” You were seething now, your rage even affecting your scent and making it more acrid. “Oh, don’t worry about that my darling mate~ I just had to make sure that you wouldn’t try to run out of our date! I know you said you didn’t want to be my mate mate but I know you were just being silly, you are just too shy to admit that you want a mate and you don’t think that you are good enough, but no worries! I will prove to you that you are.” You didn’t know what to say. He was completely unstable. “Please eat baby doll, you really need to,” he pleaded as if you were a petulant child refusing a meal, as if this was an everyday inconvenience and not the result of him assaulting you and tying you up. But eating was the farthest thing on your mind and you did not want to give him the satisfaction of giving in to his demands, and you were not entirely sure he didn’t drug the food with something even more potent. Instead you threw yourself in a rather comical attempt to escape. The way you were tied with your arms partially free and your legs firmly bound made you have to resort to wiggling on the floor like some kind of worm. Nathan got up from his seat, hoisted you up, and sat back down with you in his lap. “I know you are shy and maybe even a bit too prideful, but I promise you will feel better with some food in your belly.” As he said this he rubbed your chubby belly and kissed your cheek lightly before holding a fork full of lasagna up to your face. You knew you were going to start crying before you even felt the first hot tear streak down your cheek, you were powerless and scared of what he could do to you so you reluctantly opened your mouth, allowing him to slide the fork in. What at any other time would have been a flavorful dinner with tangy and savory flavors dancing on your tongue turned now only to cotton, as you struggled past your emotional trauma as you ate each bite that he gave you. As you ate he filled your ear with whispered praises, telling you how you were such a good girl, and you just had a bit more to go, and how he was so happy you were eating properly for him. You ate roughly half of everything that he had put on your plate and once you had he rubbed your back soothingly. “Such a good girl for me. I am so happy. My good little omega~” Don’t worry, you will get used to our life together eventually. You wanted to throw up. But you fought the urge, who knows what he would do if you got sick. Force feed you more? Make you take medicine and baby you? It wasn’t worth the risk. He left you on the chair as he cleaned up after dinner, you shooting him daggers with your eyes the entire time that he was doing so, but he just blissfully hummed to himself the entire time seemingly unaware of your glares. For Nathan everything was finally coming together, he had successfully taken the first crucial steps in getting his mate to accept him. When the kitchen was all clean he took you, still tied up, to the living room and put you on the couch. You didn’t have a tv since you never bothered with anything other than your PC or tablet so he turned his laptop to Netflix and placed it on the coffee table in front of the both of you and turned on your favorite show. Once again your stomach turned a bit, how did he know the things that you liked to watch? Had he really paid such a creepy amount of attention to what you were doing during one of the many times he had been over to fix something? Just how long had he been so obsessed with you, and why? Nathan finally removed your bindings after pulling you close, perhaps realizing that they were more than a bit overkill since you were right up beside him with his arm around you. There was no way you could even attempt to escape without him immediately stopping you. And you certainly weren’t going to make the attempt now, he had knocked you out, tied you up, force fed you, and was living in his own little delusion that you would easily accept him as a partner when you did not even really want a partner even in the best of circumstances. Who knew what he might do to you if you shattered those delusions by escaping. You’d have to lull him into a false sense of security and trust before you attempted to do anything. For now you allowed him to stroke your hair as he watched a show with you, though you were very rigid, scared, and not paying any attention at all to the screen, but if he noticed he did not make a fuss about it, maybe it was enough just to be obedient for the moment. And it was, Nathan knew it would take you a bit of time to adjust. There were always adjustments both parties had to make when starting a new relationship. You had to get used to being around him all the time and used to having someone praise you, build you up, and make sure you were being taken care of. He would have to adjust his time and schedule to give you all the time and attention that you needed and he would have to be really patient with you. It was just part of a new relationship. Nothing to worry about. You continued sitting on the couch for him for what seemed like an eternity. He occasionally planted a gentle kiss on your cheek or on your cheek. You flinched a bit each time that he did, but finally he turned the laptop off. While you were more than a bit relieved you had to fear what would happen next. And your fear only increased as he led you to your bedroom. Apparently he did quite a bit more than just bring dinner over and lay in wait for you. He had reorganized your next, not only tidying it up but also adding several new items that he had personally scented. His musk hung thickly all about the room. He had likely placed scented objects all around the room. You scrunched your face as the smell became increasingly gross to you. This was the ultimate invasion to any omega. A non-consensual intrusion into an omega’s nest was pretty revolting and anxiety inducing. A nest was supposed to be a place where an unmated omega had supreme authority in constructing it in a way to make them feel comfortable, safe, and comfortable. This alpha forcing his scent in not only your den but also your nest made you more nauseous than when you were being forced to eat. As he guided you to your nest you begin to truly panic, thinking you were surely about to be raped. You started to try and turn for the door, but he caught you and held you close while rubbing your back. “Shhh, don’t worry babe, we aren’t going to do anything other than sleep okay? You need to fix your sleep schedule, I am your alpha and have to make sure that you rest enough and you have had a long day. Shhh, just relax,” he whispered in a hush tone before licking your neck in the way an alpha or beta does to relax an omega. Though you were opposed to the licking, and you certainly did not want to be in your tainted nest, you did calm down a bit with his assurances that he wasn’t going to forcefully breed you. You let him lead him into your defiled bedding and lay there. He whispered praises of you being his good girl as he slid in behind you and put his arm around you, pulling you close. You felt the heat of tears as they welled up in your eyes and cried silently until you finally fell into a fitful sleep. You woke up from your light sleep to the smell of breakfast cooking and the sound of meat sizzling from the kitchen. You felt as if you had hardly slept at all and your head was pounding, likely from dehydration from all the crying you did last night. You briefly considered trying to sneak out the front door while he was busy in the kitchen, but the rooms were close and at this time in the early morning there would be absolutely no one outside. He would hear you leave and then snatch you back up immediately. And who knew what the consequences would be. Instead you forced yourself into the kitchen and did your best to act like everything was fine. “Good morning sunshine~ I hope you slept well. Breakfast is almost done, sausage and homemade pancakes. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day so I can’t let you go without it,” once again he was saying all of this so casually, as if you could just so easily accept him as your provider and caretaker. “Th-thanks,” you mumbled while trying to sound at least a little sincere. Nathan thought you were, his heart fluttered thinking you were finally starting to accept him. Which is exactly what you wanted. Nathan wasn’t the only one who could think of a plan. Once he completely let his guard down and left you alone for an extended period of time you would get the hell out of here and go to the police. He had taken away all of your electronics so you had no way to signal for help, so you would have to run. So for the next few weeks you let Nathan think you were warming up to him. You ate his food, let him pull you close, you engaged him in conversations, always acting as sweet as can be, and eventually started leaning on him and holding on to him in bed. It worked like a charm, he started leaving you unattended for a few minutes at a time and that time slowly grew bit by bit until one night he said he had to run out to the store to get some supplies he had forgotten to get earlier that he needed to fix a minor leak in the roof the next day. You told him okay and made a big show of being sleepy and snuggling up in your nest with the big plushy he had gotten and scent marked for you so you could always have his scent by you. When he left the home you stared out the window and waited for his car to move out of sight. When it had you sprang up, quickly put some appropriate clothing and shoes on, and ran out the door. Smacking right into Nathan’s broad chest. He must have parked the car down the street then sprinted here while you were throwing your clothes and shoes on. He was a bit out of breath. It had all been a clever trap to test you. “Nathan… I was… just getting some fresh air. I-i didn’t feel well.” You started to back away but he grabbed your wrist a bit painfully and pulled you back to him. “Don’t give me that. I know you were trying to get away from me. It’s my fault, I gave you a bit too much freedom too quickly. And I should have realized how badly I needed to mark and mate with you to keep you happier. I know you won’t admit that you want it yet, but it is clear you are crying out for it.” “Nathan no. N-no please don’t,” you pleaded desperately, each word out of your mouth dripping with terror. Your self elected alpha ignored all of your objections and struggles as he picked you up and started carrying you to the bedroom. You scratched at him, punched, kicked, elbowed, everything you could do to stop what was about to happen. “Calm down baby girl, I’ll make you feel so much better, I promise. Gonna mark you, breed you, you’ll be so much happier, just calm down.” Nathan deposited you in your shared nest, you tried to push him away with your legs and feet but he just caught them effortlessly before aggressively ripping off your pants and then panties, exposing your pussy to him. Then he moved to your top and bra and removed those as well. Your body was completely uncovered. You tried to cover yourself the best you could with your arms and hands but he just pried them away. He now had you completely pinned and at his mercy. The first thing he went for was your neck, knowing that stimulating your scent glands there would be an effective way to arouse you. He licked up and down the sensitive area before kissing and nibbling on it. Your reaction was as strong as it was involuntary, small gasps and whimpers escaping your lips as your pussy began to drool. He firmly grasped your tits, groping and kneading them in his hands as he continued his assault on your neck. You feared he would make a claiming mark soon, his teeth grazing over your skin threateningly, but so far he had restrained himself from that ultimate act of dominance. You had a moment to collect yourself as he temporarily released you to slide out of his shirt, a light sheen of sweat covering his chest, before then taking off his pants and underwear. His large cock bounced free. “No, no, no please I don-,” you started to protest before your pleas were swallowed up by his lips dominating yours in an oppressive embrace. He broke the kiss as one of his hands slowly traveled down from your side to your pussy. He slowly teased the lips as you continued to mutter, whimper, and whine out little pleas and protests. But despite your obvious lack of consent, each word you uttered was steeped in arousal. It only convinced him that he was doing the right thing, that you were just too shy to admit that you wanted it, that your shyness in conjunction with your pride made you try to run away. Mostly it convinced him more and more that he just needed to open you up, in every sense of the word. And with that thought he finally slid two fingers inside your eagerly waiting cunt. Instinctively at the sensation your body completely betrayed you, your legs spread more as if inviting him in deeper while moving yourself into his touch, grinding into his fingers. “See babe, I knew you wanted this~,” he whispered faintly before sliding another finger into your drooling depths. He didn’t let up, in fact he picked up the pace as you began really fucking yourself on his fingers, your body clearly craving release. His previously acrid smell began to actually smell a lot better to you, desirable even. The combination of domination, neck stimulation, and his skilled fingers lead to you cumming a lot more quickly than you normally would. “Gosh, such a good girl for me, already cumming for me,” he said under his breath more to himself than to you, as he regarded you with awe. You were the picture of perfection to him, simply radiant as you panted and shuddered in the wake of your climax. Nathan licked all your juices off his fingers before kissing a trail from your pudgy belly to your sex. He kissed it deeply before sliding his tongue in, thoroughly making out with your nether-lips. His tongue was eager for every drop of flavor inside your pussy, the pheromones your body was producing sending him into rut as all the sensations began to trigger you into an early heat. His tongue probed and prodded every inch it could reach within you as you kept producing more slick. It wasn’t long before another orgasm hit you, causing you to squeeze his head between your thick thighs. He didn’t mind at all, instead taking pride in the pleasure he was causing your body despite you claiming you didn’t want him to be doing this. You laid back limp panting more than earlier in the wake of your pleasure, now not even able to make a single objection. But your mate was nowhere near done with you. The alpha flipped you over and put you on your tummy, you felt a warmth on your thighs as he rubbed his cock against you before sliding it all the way inside you. He started very slowly moving back and forth in your abused pussy, savoring every shudder and movement you made under him. As he began licking and kissing your neck gently while mating you agonizingly slowly you began to break down and cry, once more feeling that sensation that had gotten all too familiar lately of tears welling up in your eyes and raining down your face. “So good for me, such a good girl, such a good omega. Taking my cock so well, making so much slick for me to slide in easily, so so good,” he told you in a comforting voice as he peppered the side of your face and your neck with a bunch of tiny kisses. You were shaking, so broken by him. The slow speed had become completely torturous. You needed to cum again. Despite your shaking and exhaustion and sheer overstimulation you began to weakly rock against each one of his thrusts, driving him deeply and forcing the pace to go a bit faster. Nathan followed your cue and started going significantly faster, his large cock rubbing against your walls so wonderfully. You felt so betrayed by your body, starting a heat at his actions, pheromones thick in the air beckoning him to continue, body moving instinctively to seek pleasure from your rapist and captor. But you couldn’t help it. His praise for you continued and now became almost like a chant. “So good for me, so good for me, so good, so good, so good, so good…,” as the words of praise and worship for you kept tumbling from his lips his knot started to grow inside you, binding the two of you together. This was when he started really railing you, his swollen knot catching against your inner folds in the best way possible, as if his cock was specifically for your use. The sensations were reaching their peak for the both of you. Your face completely wet with tears of desperation and frustration. Nathan’s mouth was back at your neck and just as he filled your insides with thick potent seed he bit down on your scent gland HARD. You screamed out loud. A brilliant mix of both pleasure and pain mixed through you as the bite sent an almost electric feeling throughout your entire body as it quivered once more with the strongest climax you had ever experienced in your life. It was so immense that you blacked out from all the sensations assaulting your body. Nathan licked your neck of the blood his claiming bite had caused and pulled you close, spooning you as his knot stayed rigid within you. You woke up whimpering as your sore pussy was being bred all over again. Nathan had never pulled out of you and when he woke up he started thrusting lightly, trying not to disturb your rest. He smiled when he saw that your eyes had opened and you were already flushed and flustered from his movements. “Ah, my sleeping beauty is awake, now we can start round two before breakfast~”

Devil Horns & Mary Jane

Virgin!Eddie X Reader

(a/n hiiiii long time no see! Its been awhile but i am so glad to be back and bee bopping around brain rot city with @lofaewrites ! boy have i been cooking up some stuff in the kitchen for you guys! here’s my attempt at willing summer away, i mean it's practically halloween, right?)

“For the last time I am not driving you to some haunted woods all the way in bum-fuck Indiana,” Eddie shouts, settling in on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. 

“Eddie, please,” Dustin begs, plopping down beside him, grabbing onto Eddie’s shoulder and shaking it. 

“Yeah, please Eddie. You promised you would take us to a haunted house this year!” Mike chimes in, pleading eyes looking down at Eddie. 

“I promised I would take you but I’m not taking you tonight, I have plans,” he motions to the TV in front of him, some horror film playing at a low volume. 

“Now shoo-'' Dustin's hand comes to shush Eddie, pointer finger smushed to Eddie’s pink lips. 

“I’ll tell them about what's under--'' It's Eddie’s turn to shush Dustin, his whole hand quick to cover Dustin’s mouth.

“Enough of that. Alright kids, load up,” Dusting snickers as he follows Eddie and his friends out of the trailer. 

The kids all pile in his van, Dustin settling in the front seat. Eddie’s hand smacks his as he attempts to change the radio, turning it back to his usual rock station.

The drive takes them out of town to a more rural area, the haunted woods and corn maze stretching for several acres. Eddie parks the Van, boots crunching in gravel as he steps out of the vehicle. He stuffs his hands in his jacket pocket, withdrawing a pack of camels. He lights one, taking several drags before stopping under a tree. 

“I’ll be waiting here for you guys,” he sends the group a salute as he leans up against the trunk. 

“Nope, you’re coming,” Max states bluntly, walking towards him and plucking the cigarette from his pursed lips before stomping on it. 

“Oof, alright,” Eddie raises his eyebrows before begrudgingly following the group toward the entrance of the haunted woods. 

“Beware!!” A badly dressed clown screams on Eddie’s right, causing Dustin to jump. 

“Oh this is going to be so epic,” Dustin says as he bumps into Eddie. He shrugs him off and straightens out his shoulders. 

The group pushes its way through a badly shredded sheet that is covered in fake blood, Eddie chuckles nervously to himself before entering through the “Gates of Hell”.

They walk for a bit through the woods, witches and zombies popping out periodically to try and get a rise out of the group. Eddie usually sees it coming, but still jumping at the inevitable scare. 

They make it to a small cabin in the middle of the woods, glass windows broken, Cobwebs stretching across the porch, the whole nine yards. Eddie ducks into the small doorway, being the first of his group to make the journey inside. He feels it out once he is in, the strobing lights making his head spin as he tries to make his way forward. 

Dustin follows in shortly after, putting his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, causing Eddie to jump. He shakes his head, hair tossing back in Dustin’s face. The group trudges forward, making it halfway through the house with no scares. Eddie is pretty sure the house is vacant of haunt employees. He begins to relax, shrugging Dustin’s hands off his shoulders as he makes his way through the house. 

He makes it to the bathroom where a bathtub sits. He begins to notice bubbles forming in the tub, getting closer to investigate despite his judgment. When he is standing over the tub, something jumps out, right in Eddie’s face. Eddie is quick to squeal, hands taking position before punching in front of him at the mass that just emerged from the bathtub. 

“Fuck-ow ow ow,” he pulls his hand back, shaking it out before realizing what just happened. 

He punched someone. 

He punched an employee. 

He rushes back to the tub, his hands coming to pull the workers mask off to reveal a doe eyed girl with the bloodiest of noses. 

“Shit shit shit. I am so sorry,” He grabs the bandana that is stuck in his back pocket and presses it to your nose. 

You let yourself be held up by Eddie as he walks you through the rest of the house, your mind is so fuzzy you’re not really sure what is going on.

He shakes your shoulder once you make it outside, looking down at you, his face illuminated by the residual strobing lights bleeding through the panes of the broken windows. 

He’s pretty, bangs disheveled and sticking to his forehead, leather jacket broadening his shoulders, pink tongue poking out from between his plump lips.

“Hey, Hey c'mon l-look at me,” he says from above you, your eyes finally focused on his, a grimace forming on your face as you come to.

“Did you punch me?” you question, hand finally coming to rub under your nose, blood painting your fingers. His hand comes to rub at the back of his neck, a shy smile forming on his face as he does so. 

“Yes?” he almost questions, “But, I am so so sorry, I did not expect someone to pop out of there. I’ve never even been to a haunted house before, I just say I like them so my friends don’t think I’m lame. I’m actually really terrified of them? I’ve never even punched someone before, not even when I got beat up in midd-”

“Eddie! For god’s sake let Y/N breathe,” Dustin groans, “Hi, Y/N. Are you okay?” He questions, coming to kneel beside you. 

“Yeah Dusty, I’m ok,” you say, smiling at him. 

“Y/N? Dusty?” Eddie asks, confused. 

“Y/N is my neighbor, it’s how I heard about the haunted woods in the first place,” Dustin reveals, holding his hand out to you in order to help you off the porch steps.

Eddie reaches his arm out, offering it to you. You take it, looping your arm in his as you walk down the hill and towards the exit of the haunted woods.

The two of you make small talk as you walk down, Eddie even lighting a cigarette and offering it to you. You decide fuck it after the night you’ve had and take several drags before giving it back to Eddie. 

“I really am so sorry I punched you,” Eddie says as he looks down at you, “I-I dont like hit women or anything like that, I didn’t even know you were a woman. Just like a mass of moss or something gross like th-” 

“EDDIE!”  you shout playfully, “Stop with the nervous rambling, it's fine! My nose isn’t broken and you got me out of work for the night,” 

“Seriously? No “I’m gonna press charges”? You do know who I am right? Half the town wants to see me in jail,”  he states bluntly.

“You’re a dork,” you say with a shrug, “I don’t think you’d survive in jail so I decided to spare you,” 

“Okay, ouch. I am not a dork,” Eddie defends, eyes trained forward as he walks with you.

“What do you do in your free time?”

“Play D&D, read, write music, watch horror films,” he states obviously.

“See, dork,” you bump your hip with his, smiling as you do so. Eddie meets your smile with a frown, his eyebrow furrowing as he looks at you. 

“Hey, c'mon you punched me in the face. I can say you’re a dork. Plus, I never said being a dork was a bad thing,” you reveal, arm unlocking from his as you approach a trailer that served as your bosses office. He was understanding as to what happened but had to understandingly ban Eddie from the haunted woods for the foreseeable future.

Eddie shrugs his shoulders at the news, stepping out of the trailer with you.

“It’s better than spending a night in jail,” Eddie says, digging in his pocket for his keys. 

“C’mon kids, load up,” Eddie shouts before turning back towards you. 

“Do you need a ride?” Eddie questions as he shoves his thumb towards his van.

You shake your head, pulling his bandana away from your nose. 

“Nah I got it, I’ll see you around?” you ask, “Gotta clean this up and give it to you somehow,”

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” Eddie responds. He gives you a small wave before retreating to his van. 

Eddie slides into the driver’s seat of the van, starting it up and peeling out of the gravel lot. 

“Dude- I can’t believe you punched her,” Dustin yells over the music. 

“Shut up, Dusty,” Eddie sneers. 

“And your hopeless attempt at flirting with her, oh my god you were so bad dude!” Dustin laughs at Eddie, his heart breaking a little bit at his words. 

Dustin was right. Eddie was hopeless when it came to women. His attempt at flirting tonight simply bleeding into embarrassing stories about himself. He was sure he blew it, no he was certain he had blown it. You can’t punch a pretty girl in the face and expect anything to go anywhere after that. 

Eddie goes home that night, kicking himself mentally for how the evening went.  He wishes he could be normal. He wishes his brain wouldn’t short circuit when a woman checked him out at the grocery store. He wishes he could be confident in himself. He wishes he wasn’t so fucking weird. 

That’s what Eddie Munson is, he decides. A weird, dorky, nerd. He’s going to die a virgin, he’s sure of it. 

He wakes the next morning with his hand throbbing. He groans when he thinks about how you feel if his hand feels the way it does. He rolls out of bed, opening and closing his hand, wincing at each contract of his skin. 

He ends up running late to work, van speeding down the road as he nears the vinyl shop. He pulls in right at 10, practically jumping out of his van and speed walking towards the entrance. He unlocks the door, pushing inside and turning on the lights. 

He’s busy putting on a record to play in the shop when the bell above the door begins to ring. He turns when he hears it, smiling when he sees who he’s met with. 

It's you. You’re wearing a pink skirt, a cream sweater thrown over it, not how Eddie would have ever imagined you to dress. 

“Y-Y/N?” Eddie stutters, record needle scratching loudly as he drops it. 

“Hi, Eddie,” you walk towards the counter, in the light of the storefront he sees that your right eye has turned a bright purple.

“Shit- I’m so sorry,” Eddie rasps, wincing as you tilt your face up to reveal the bruise on your cheek.

“Had to make you feel a little more sorry for me,” you say with a small chuckle. Eddie flashes you pleading eyes, silently begging you to stop messing with him. 

“Hey, it’s okay! I actually just came to bring this back,” you dig into your baby pink purse, pulling out Eddie’s now clean bandana.

“I uh, asked Dustin where I could find you,”

Eddie smiles and takes the bandana from your hand, tucking it into his back pocket. 

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” He sends you a salute as you back away from the counter.

“See ya around Eddie,”

The next time you show up to his work, Eddie is high. He’d taken a few dabs in his car on his lunch break. The weed really takes over when you walk in. Pretty blue skirt flowing behind you, an oversized white sweater brushing the hem of your skirt causes his heart to do tiny little flips.

“Hey Eddie,” you squeak as you approach him. The bruise around your eye is almost completely healed and the swelling in your nose has gone down tremendously. You look better and Eddie is so happy to see that. 

“Hey trouble,” he rasps, a dopey smile on his face. He walks to where you’re standing, stopping once he reaches you, leaning over the counter. He smacks his gum, elbows resting on the glass as he looks down at you. 

“Trouble?” you quirk an eyebrow, hand on your hip as you scowl at him playfully. 

“It fits, sue me. What brings you in?” Eddie questions, rounding the counter and settling next to you. He leans against the counter, crossing his arms and legs as he looks over the expanse of the store. 

“Need a birthday present for a coworker. He’s throwing a halloween party for his birthday. He’s into stuff like you. Ya know, dorky stuff, metal, the whole lot,”

“Ah, I got just the thing. Iron Maiden released a new album this past month, just got the vinyls and 8 tracks in,” 

He makes his way to the ‘new arrivals’ section of the store, fingers skimming through records effortlessly. 

“Aha, here it is!” he shouts, handing it to you with a bow. He feels more confident like this, high and able to flirt and exist around you. 

“Milady…” he ushers you back to the counter, ringing you up. He bags your purchase, carefully handing it over the counter. 

“Have a good one, trouble,” he says with a smirk on his lips. You wave a small goodbye but stop before you’re able to make it out the door. You turn on your heels marching right up to Eddie Munson. 

“Will you be my date to this thing?” You’re standing right infront of him, so close you can smell weed, cigarettes and his cologne. 

“A Halloween party?” Eddie questions, head ticking to the side as he ponders the idea. 

“Sure thing, I’ll pick you up?” you nod and pluck a pencil out of the jar by the register, writing down your address on a scrap piece of your receipt. You hand it to Eddie, smiling widely as he takes it. 

“7:00?”

“7:00, sweetheart,” 

Eddie’s heart is pounding. He’s sure he’s on the verge of either keeling over or running for the hills. His high has worn off and he’s 99% sure any and all ability to be normal has left the building. His hands are shaking as he clips in his little red devil horns. He backs up from the mirror and looks at himself. Red sweater, black jeans and black boots was tonight’s ensemble. He adjusts the little horns in his hair, fluffing his bangs before walking out to the living room, hands still shaking as he collects his keys. 

“I’ll be late Wayne,” He shouts to his Uncle in the Kitchen. With that, he makes his way out to his van, hopping in and lighting a cigarette to help calm his nerves. 

He makes his way to your house, the ride and nicotine somewhat soothing his nerves. You see his van at the curb and bid your mom goodbye, stepping out into the cold October air. Eddie feels all the air leave his chest as he looks at you as you come down your porch stairs. You’re in that same oversized white sweater except this time it's over a white tennis skirt. Your hair is down in braids, a little halo atop your head. Eddie is pretty sure he dreamed you up, there is no way you are real he thinks to himself. 

You practically skip to Eddie’s van, Eddie getting out quickly in order to open the door for you. You slide into the passenger seat, Eddie climbing into the van shortly after. 

“An angel huh?” he asks nervously, causing you to blush. 

“Every devil needs his angel,” you shrug. It’s Eddie’s turn to blush, his red cheeks matching the horns tucked in his mess of curls. 

You make conversation as you drive. Albeit awkward conversation, but conversation nonetheless. Your friends warned you about this, how awkward it would be but honestly, you liked it. You liked how you could get under Eddie Munson’s skin. And in return, Eddie makes your heart flutter. No matter how many times your friends told you he was awkward or a nerd, you couldn’t stop thinking of the brown eyed blubbering idiot. 

You pull up to where the party is, a house on the outskirts of town. You spot a bonfire in the back surrounded by people, signaling that you’re at the right place. Eddie parks his van on the grass before getting out and rounding the car to help you out. 

You both trudge through the grass, making it back to the bonfire, present in hand. Eddie hangs back while you converse with your friends. You down several drinks, drinking too fast and feeling a little woozy. 

You find Eddie several minutes after you down your second drink. He has a red solo cup in hand, other hand in his pocket as he sips the mixture in the cup. 

“Hey Eds,” You say with a smile. 

“Trouble,” 

“You’re being a wallflower,” You giggle, getting up on your tiptoes to adjust one of his horns. 

“I-I just don’t know anyone,” He shrugs his shoulders, taking a sip of his drink. You grab his hand once he’s done, dragging him to the fire and sitting on a log next to him. 

You don’t let go of him, Eddie smiling when your thumb begins to rub circles on the back of his hand. 

You comfort him for a moment before turning to him and beginning conversation. 

“So- you don't talk much do you?” you question as you take a sip of your drink. 

Eddie shakes his head, ducking it down in embarrassment. 

“Hey hey, it’s okay!” you reveal, smiling at him when he snaps his head back up. 

“I can talk enough for the both of us,” you babble, “My name's Y/N but you know that, and I know your name is Eddie,” vodka hits your tongue as you sip on your drink. 

“You’re a dorky metalhead and you drive a rickety old van that smells like weed so I assume you smoke?” you ask as you raise your eyebrows. 

“Deal. I uh- Deal,” Your eyes widen comically at his revelation. 

“You deal drugs?” you whisper-yell, a chuckle rising out of Eddie at your reaction.

“Yeah, mostly bud,” 

“Can we smoke?” 

He simply nods. You get up from your place on the log, hand gripping his as you pull him back towards the van. 

He opens the back for you, the two of you ducking in and settling in the back. He pulls out an old lunch box, digging in it until he can find his rolling papers. You watch him skillfully roll the joint, his hands finally steady. 

He brings the joint to his lips, holding it there as he flicks his lighter. The end of the joint blooms red, smoke flowing from Eddie’s mouth as he exhales. Eddie passes you the spliff, smiling widely at your doe eyed expression. 

You take a long drag, your exhale being cut off by dry coughing and hacking. Your cheeks burn bright red in the commotion. Eddie finds a half-drunk bottle of water and passes it to you. You hand him back the joint and gratefully accept the water, chugging the rest of the bottle. 

The rest of your smoke sesh goes off without a hitch, the two of you giggling at anything and

everything. 

“You talk more when you’re high,” Eddie stops rolling the second joint of the night, looking up at you. 

“It’s hard making new friends. Weed makes me relax and not be so weird.” Eddie licks the rolling paper, focusing on the task at hand.

“You’re not weird..” 

“Says the girl who called me a dork the second she met me,”

“I am pretty sure I have endless passes to call you a dork, you punched me in the face and all,” Eddie sucks in his breath through his teeth, holding his hand up in defense.

“What was a pretty thing like you doing working there anyways?” he takes a drag of the joint, inhaling deeply before blowing all the smoke in your face.

“Eddie? Pretty thing? Are you flirting with me?” you reach towards him, hands meeting as you pass the spliff between you two. 

“I dunno trouble, am I?” he questions, mentally giving himself a pep talk to not screw this up. 

Eddie shifts in his seat, turning to face you.

“Would that bother you? If I was?” Eddie asks sweetly, doe eyes looking down at you. 

You shake your head, your heart races as he shifts closer to you. You’re sure he is going to kiss you, he's so close. Until, he isn't. He pulls away. 

He casts his eyes downward, nerves in his belly rising. 

“Eddie, what’s wrong?” 

“I-I’ve never?” 

“Kissed a girl?” you finish for him, your hand holding his as he nods his head. 

“Well come here then,” You peck his lips a few times, finally deepening the kiss and showing Eddie what to do. He catches on fast, the kiss quickly turning messy and desperate. You're straddling his lap when your hands slide underneath Eddie’s red sweater, a whimper escaping his lips when your cold fingers brush against his middle. 

“Can assume you haven’t done this either?” His eyes are blown wide as he looks up at you, lips pink and plump, cheeks red and splotchy. 

He shakes his head. You cup his jaw in your hand, drawing him in for a kiss before you pull away and whisper in his ear. 

“Just follow my lead,” 

Eddie shudders as your breath hits his neck. His cock is straining so painfully against his zipper and he’s pretty sure if he doesn’t get relief soon, he’ll explode. 

You sit back on your haunches, stripping yourself of your sweater and skirt, leaving you only in your halo. 

If Eddie wasn’t already painfully hard, the sight before him is enough to do so. Your naked body dressed only in a halo while the moonlight bleeds into his van has his mind whirling. He’s certain he’s died and gone to heaven. Because if all angels looked like this, he’d be on his knees every night. 

You giggle at the way he's staring, hands going to snake back under his sweater in order to strip it from his body. You pull it over his head, curls bouncing back to place after the sweater is fully removed, horns staying in place despite the disturbance. 

You start to work on his pants, unbuckling his belt and popping the button of his jeans. You kiss him softly when you dip your hand into his boxers. You giggle when he hisses, kissing his jaw when the hiss turns into a needy moan. You pump him a few times before withdrawing your hand from his boxers. 

“Let’s get out of these, yeah?” Eddie nods feverishly, gangly limbs moving fast to rid himself of his jeans. You draw in a breath when he is finally naked before you. He is so pretty, his cock is so pretty. It’s thick and just the right length, curving slightly to the left, following his hip bone and resting there. 

“Lay on your back,” you instruct, grabbing a random pillow from the floor and shoving it under Eddie’s head. 

“Now, enjoy yourself. Touch me however you want and for the love of god, don’t hold back,”

You throw your leg over his body, straddling his middle. You get on your knees, hovering above Eddie’s cock. You take it in your hand, direct it to your weeping hole, and sink down. You raise yourself slowly before dropping yourself back down, a little “oof” getting punched from Eddie’s lungs. You pick up your pace and deduce him to a moaning, needy mess. 

“F-fuck trouble, I- I’m. I can’t-” Eddie’s hands come to rest on your hips, pushing you down, forcing himself deeper inside of you. You feel him twitching inside of you, cum leaking from you and down his balls. 

Eddie is bright red when you look down at him, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to say something. He’s so caught up in his mind, reminding himself of how weird and pathetic he is he almost doesn't hear you. 

“That. Was so hot,” you reveal, his spent cock now softening inside you. 

Eddie chuckles, pushing you up his body to release his cock, settling you beside him. He draws you in tightly, your legs intertwined, cum leaking from you and staining the blanket beneath you. 

“Have I broken you?” you ask as you trace the tattoos that litter Eddie’s chest. 

“Somethin’ like that,” Eddie groans, lips coming to press a kiss to the crown of your head. 

The two of you sit there for a moment, breathing falling in line as you both enjoy the presence of each other. 

“You never told me why you work at a haunted house,” Eddie says, finally breaking the silence

“Oh- my brother is in charge of all the “cast members ", got me the gig and pays me well. Not really up my alley but it’s better than the mall,” you shrug, leaning up on your elbows to look outside.

“There’s more people outside, do you want to go back or…” Eddie quirks his eyebrow. 

“Orrr…” 

“We can do that again?”

Some purely indulgent period comfort bc I feel like death rn.

Abby x Fem!reader

Abby walked through the door to your shared home, a cozy house in the safe haven of Jackson. She eagerly toed of her boots and dropped her pack onto the floor, relief flooding her muscles as she relaxed for the first time today. Her brows furrowed, finding the atmosphere oddly quiet, normally you'd be in the kitchen trying a new recipe, or in the living room rewatching one of your many DVDs and VHS tapes that you had traded for over time.

Abby checked around the downstairs, calling out your name a few times, trying not to panic, but she knew for a fact that you were home today, as this morning you let her know that you felt as if you were coming down with something and politely asked if she could let Maria know that you'd be out today. Abby had offered to stay home aswell to look after you, but you stubbornly refused, assuring her that you'd be fine, and it was nothing major. She made her way upstairs letting out a sigh of relief when she found your normally closed door slightly open, your shared silent signal that one of you was home and welcome to come into the room. You had this odd system to communicate easily when one of you was feeling a bit too overwhelmed. If the door was closed, you didn't want to be bothered, and it was best to check back in another 15 minutes. If the door was open, it was a green light.

Abby slowly pushed the door the rest of the way open "Angel? You alright?" She spoke softer than normal, being cautious of a possible headache.

You grumbled, rolling over in your queen sized bed to look up at your beautiful girlfriend, her braid was a bit messy from patrol, the lightest sheen of sweat still remains on her skin.

Abby's eyes widened. That would definitely explain your recent feelings and attitude with her lately. You met her gaze, looking down to the bed and seeing a small bloodstain right where you were laying before you moved to see Abby.

"fuuuucckkk this is not what I needed today" you groaned out, hopping off the bed you started stripping the sheets off the bed, throwing the blankets and pillows aside.

Abby came up behind you gently peeling you hands off the sheets "how about you go start a bath for yourself and I'll take care of this hm? I'll join you in a bit if you'd like, just leave your clothes outside the door and I'll throw em in with the sheets."

You smiled at her kindness, "thank you my love but it's my blood, Im sure I can handle it" you gave her a peck on the cheek and reached back for the sheets, before you could get your hands back on them you felt an intense cramp bloom throughout your lower abdomen causing you to clutch your stomache and fold in on yourself to try and relieve the pain.

Abby quickly caught you before you could make it to the ground, she picked you up like a toddler, you holding on tightly to her front as you buried your face in her neck. "never said you couldn't handle it sugar, just said to go start your bath, bein all stubborn and sorts" she set you down on the bathroom counter, moving to the tub to start some water, throwing a small amount of your soap in there to create a sheen of bubbles.

Abby went back to standing in front of you, you leaned forward to give her a kiss, her hands coming to your hips and rubbing gently to try and soothe your pain. She pulled away first, knowing she had to go out the sheets in the wash before they were permanently stained, not that she'd mind, but she knew you would always feel terrible about it and she couldnt have that.

Your gaze drifted down to her pants where you saw a small red spot on her cargos, her eyes followed your line of sight, "I'm sorry" you muttered out dropping your gaze to the floor in shame.

Her hand moved to grab a hold of your chin, making you look to her "hey, none of that, s'not your fault, I'm the one who picked you up, I'll just throw em in with everything else, totally not a big deal. Speaking of which, let's get you into that bath"

Abby helped you strip your clothing, easily lifting you once again to the bath, causing you to mumble out "I have legs y'know."

Abby smiled, setting you down in the bath, "I'm aware grumpy, but I like carrying you, and I didn't feel much protest, so looks like your stuck with me."

Settling down into the bath, the water soothing your aches you stuck your tongue out at Abby, to which she quickly reciprocated before beginning to rid herself of her stained pants. She could feel your eyes on her, drinking in every detail, appreciating her muscular legs covered by her boxers.

"You keep staring like that there's gonna be more than a lil' stain on those sheets" You blushed at her comment, quickly hiding your face in your hands, even though you were sitting in the bath. Abby smirked at your reaction, quite pleased with herself that she could still do that to you even after years together.

She walked over to you, bending down to give you a loving kiss on your lips, pulling away before you could pull her back into you.

"I'm gonna go throw this stuff in the wash, I'll be back to check on you in a bit"

You gave a small nod, watching her leave the room and close the door behind her to trap the heat in, you sunk back down into the bath, focusing on how the warm water slowly soothed your cramps, helping your aching muscles. You closed your eyes, letting the time pass by as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

You were snapped out of your daze by a small knock on the door, followed by the creak the old door made as it opened.

"hey sweet girl, the water is probably getting a bit cold now yeah? You ready to get out?"

Not that you had really noticed, but now that you were activley thinking about it the water was getting colder.

"yeah I think I'm ready to get out, my stomache is starting to hurt again"

"alright you pull the drain for me, do you want some help out?"

A small silent nod was all you could muster

Abby gave you a sympathetic smile, knowing how easily embarrassed you got, and not the biggest fan of asking if asking for help unless it was absolutely necessary. She slowly helped you out of the bath, wrapping you in a fresh towel.

Giving a small peck on your head she left you to continue drying off, disappearing once again into your room.

She came back with a set of comfy clothes and a washed period cup that Maria had gifted to you and many others. Setting them down on the counter she looked back to you as you started to towel dry your hair.

"You want help changing as well? or do you want me to come check on you in a few minutes?" Abby said

"I think I'll be okay to do it myself, thank you abs. love you"

" 'course baby, anything for you. I'll come make sure you aren't dead in a few minutes alright? I love you too."

A few minutes had passed and just as Abby was getting up to come check on you, the bathroom door opened to reveal you in one of abbys oversized t-shirts and a pair of your own comfy underwear, her shirt practically looked like a dress on you so you didn't mind the lack of pants.

"Hi beautiful, you wanna come lay down?" abby asked as she pat your side of the bed next to her, the sheets changed and abbys attempt at making the bed.

"ugh please do not call me that right now. Im barley passing as human at the moment"

Abby snorts at your comment. "oh no! should we take you to get tested for cordycepts?!! If you go down I'm coming with your ass, you arent getting rid of me that easily"

Her comment causes you to let out a small laugh "haha very funny. I forgot to do the dishes last night and i need to finish them, so ill come lay down after."

You turn around to walk out of the room before baby could start protesting. You genuinely thought you had gotten aways with it too, reaching the top of the stairs before being tugged back into the solid chest you knew by heart.

"in what world do you think I'm going to let my ovulating girlfriend go do house chores when she almost collapsed earlier from her own cramps" Abby eyed you down as you tried to avoid her gaze.

She bent down a bit before tapping the back of your thighs, signaling you to jump. "Cmon sugar, no getting out of this one, lemme take care of you like you deserve."

You huffed, but jumped up regardless, Abby walking the both of you back to your room.

Abby set you down gently on your shared bed, situating the blankets over you til you were comfortable.

"Thank you for taking care of me" you smiled up at her

"always" abby returned the smile, leaning down to give you a kiss on the lips.

"Will you come cuddle and hold my stomach please"

"course i will. you want something to eat first though?"

"not right now, i think itll only upset my stomach more. maybe we could make soup together for dinner"

Abby slid in the bed behind you, her warm arm coming around your lower abdomen "That sounds great baby"

you hummed in content at her comforting embrace, letting out a deep breath as her warm hand helped soothe you cramps. "will you read to me? please?"

"you want me to read one of my medical books to you?"

"I dont care what you read as long as I get to listen to your voice"

"yeah I'll read to you"

freeze-thaw

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: no outbreak, fluff, smut, fingering, playing in the snow, temperature play, Joel probs has super bad circulation, established relationship but it's their first Christmas together and reader has some relationship insecurites word count: 2.7k summary: With your holiday plans ruined when a freak snow storm blows through town, you spend the fesitve period holed up with your partner, Joel Miller, learning exactly how warm you can keep each other in the snow.

A/N: happy holidays and merry sunday @oogaboogasphincter, from your Pedrostories Secret Santa! I went mostly for a snow, with a sprinkling of established relationship, and a dash of doing cozy things. I don't think I've written any of these things before, so it was a learning experience! I used just about every synonym I know for the word cold too.

snowy dividers by @saradika-graphics follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

Your holiday plans had gone to shit the moment that first flurry fell from the sky. Icy roads, cancelled flights, and downed power lines - Texas infrastructure at its finest - had put a halt to your plans to head back north for the holiday. Joel's holiday plans didn't fair much better, and instead of your first Christmas together being spent apart, you were spending your first Christmas together, well, together.

Then, to make a bad thing worse, the power went out, leaving you stuck in the dark and the cold in your apartment, and together suddenly became very together.

It hadn't been the plan - you still felt so very shiny and new at this, at being with him, and the idea of spending such a significant holiday holed up with him terrified you more than the dark ever did. But still, Joel drove on treacherous roads to come pick you up at 3am, dragging you and the perishable food from your refrigerator back to his place for the holidays. He had a generator, and fuel, and enough space for both of you to be comfortable, he said.

You spent the first day keeping to yourself, tiptoeing around, not wanting to disturb him any more than you were. Then he'd caught you circling around the back of the sofa, so as to not disturb his view of the TV, and his deep laughter stopped you dead in your tracks.

A "the fuck are you doin'" later and your insecurities came tumbling out, quickly quashed by Joel as he made it very well known just how much he wanted you there. That night, it didn't take you long to learn how warm you could keep each other.

The second day was spent bundled together on the sofa, him between your legs or you between his.

On the third, you worked up such a sweat together that you'd walked around his house naked, never more grateful for the generator chugging away in the garage.

Eventually, domesticity took over, and you spent a day wrapped up in each other in different ways. Watching a movie, drinking hot coffee, cooking a meal.

You'd trailed behind Joel into the yard on his way to check the generator that same day, Joel wanting to check it was well fueled, and you wanting an excuse to be out of the house for five minutes.

You kick at the snow, enjoying it for a few moments before it inevitably seeps through your shoes and chills your toes. Reaching down, you fluff it through your fingers, throwing a little into the air just to watch it fall again - as if you hadn't seen enough falling snow this last week. Joel is watches you, his eyes burning into your back and a smile tugging at his lips.

"You get inside, I'll deal with all this."

You stick your tongue out at him, trudging further over the snow to spin in the middle of the yard with your arms flung wide. He's laughing along with you when you stop, disorientated and unsteady on your feet. Looking back to him you stop in your tracks, finally seeing the deep gouges that mar the otherwise pristine white crust covering the ground. Yours and Joel's boots, footprints in the snow. Something about it, your foot steps mingling there together for all to see, wretches open your chest and captivates you.

And so, drawn in as you were by the footprints, you write your initials in the snow. Yours first, and then his, joined together and underlined as fact. You hesitate to carve out a frozen heart - too fearful to freeze something so warm and new and growing in something as rigid and fragile as ice - and turn to Joel again, a smile spreading across your face as you gesture to the letters in the snow -

"Oof."

- and a snowball, aimed perfectly at the back of your head a moment ago collides directly with your face. You cough and splutter, briefly blinded by ice as you swipe your freezing fingers over your face, hearing the creak of Joel's boots on the snow as he approaches you with apologies and laughter spilling from his lips in equal measure.

You glower at him, snow undoubtedly caught in your eyebrows, hiding a laugh of your own.

"Get," he says, turning you by the shoulders and pushing lightly to get you back inside. "I'll handle out here, check on the generator. Get warmed up."

Inside, the warmth almost burns as you peel off your layers and check on the food still baking away in the oven. Holding your hands in front of it like it was an open flame, you warm your fingers and wait for Joel, who comes back a few minutes later, chilled to the bone, stomping the snow from his boots and shaking his head as he shudders with the cold.

"Generator's still lookin' good," he says, slapping his gloves down on the counter. He rubs his hands together, blowing on them in an attempt to warm them up faster. Four days now, and the power was still out thanks to a new downfall of snow overnight.

"Your turn to get warm then," you smile, bending down to peer into the oven. "Dinner won't be long now."

"Sounds great, darlin'."

The bitter bubble of air he brought in with him surrounds you as he pulls you into his arms, nuzzling his frosty nose into your hair, laughing with you as you twitch away from the cold.

You expect him to move to the stove, to warm his hands on the heat of the oven just as you did, but instead he draws his fingertips up your belly, pushing your sweater up. Cold fingers meet the soft warmth of your bare skin and you gasp, gripping his arm.

"Joel! Don't you dare."

It was karmic justice really, given the number of times you'd warmed your feet on him in the night recently. You couldn't help it if the man was like a radiator.

"Got old fingers, baby, cold gets to my bones quick. Lemme warm 'em up, I know just the place."

"Fine," you say, tensing and preparing for the incoming press of his icy hand to your belly.

It doesn't come. Instead he tucks his hand down the front of your leggings, dragging the cold with him and holding you tight with his other arm.

"Joel..."

"What? Friction gets 'em warmer quicker. You don't want me to lose 'em to frostbite, do you?" You can feel him smiling into your hair as you gasp at the cold press of his fingertips to the white heat between your legs.

"No. Wouldn't want you gettin' frostbite."

Joel hums into your hair, breathing you in, just as he starts to rub softly over your clit. The sensation makes your skin prickle, first with warmth, then with cold, then something deliciously inbetween.

A moment later he's already slipping them from you and you twist, raising your eyebrow at him and preparing to call him a tease, only to watch as he slides his fingers into his mouth, slicking his cool digits up with his saliva. He's tucking them back into your leggings with a mocking raised eyebrow of his own, kissing the gasp from your lips as his fingers make cold, wet trails down your warm stomach again. They slip against your clit with ease now, but the wetness only exacerbates the chill of his fingers.

The layers of your panties and leggings can't warm up his hand fast enough, and even as he starts to rub gently at you, doing much more than just warming his fingers, you feel a shiver of cold run through you.

"Friction is b-bullshit," you stutter. "Your fingers are still cold as hell."

"Just think how I feel, they're my fingers."

"My heart bleeds for you, Joel," you retort, leaning your head back onto him.

"If it don't feel good, I can stop."

"... I never said anything about stopping," you sigh, closing your eyes and widening your stance a little so he can reach further down.

Joel doesn't need further prompting, his spit slicked fingers slipping through your folds to dip lower between your legs to swipe at your entrance. It seemed counterintuitive, putting something so cold somewhere so warm, but Joel's fingers sliding with ease through the wetness pooled between your legs was proof enough that it did something.

Small strokes become broader, his cold fingers swiping up and down the seam of you as if to prove friction was all he was after. The heat from your core soon begins to warm his fingers, pulling warmth back into his bones and easing the ache in them with each passing moment. Still, it's slow going, and your arousal seems to grow exponentially quicker than the warmth in his fingers.

When they finally feel warmer, and your soft sighs turn to deeper moans, you arch your back, winding your hips along with the movement of his fingers. The cold was no match for how hot you were starting to feel. You would burn the cold right out of him before he was through.

"Joel-"

You gasp again when he slides a single cool finger down and presses it slowly inside of you. His fingertips may have been warmed by friction, but the length of his digits had not, and they still felt icy cold, making you clench and grip around him. Still, no amount of clenching can hide the wetness dripping out of you as he slides in with ease, slicking his finger up before pushing in with a second. He fucks you with them slowly, restricted by the fabric of your leggings, before pulling your arching back flush to his body. A second later his fingers still inside you, anchoring you down just as his palm presses flat against your mound. Warming you up and then cooling you down again over and over was making your head spin, and while you shudder and shiver in his arms, you know it's not the cold that does it this time.

"How are your hands still so cold," you pant.

"Bad circulation, darlin'," he whispers, and you feel yourself grow wetter still at the low gravelly sound of his voice.

"Should get that seen to."

"Good job I got you in the meantime."

The slow curl of his fingers isn't enough, and you find yourself rocking into his frigid palm, eager for the friction to return to your clit now that his fingers are buried deep inside you.

"Grind on it, darlin', that's it. Warm me up."

He rubs the heel of his palm against your clit in sync with your movements, and before you know it you're holding back twitches and biting your lips to stop moans from spilling too loudly out of you.

"You're gonna make me come, Joel."

"Just warmin' my hands, nothin' else."

You can hear the smile in his voice and feel it against your neck as he nuzzles his cold nose into your cheek.

"I know your game, Miller," you say, before groaning once again, pressing back against him with each rock of your hips, feeling the rapid swelling of his cock against your lower back. It seemed you were warming him in more ways than one as his fingers curled inside you, pushing and dragging against that spongy spot on your front wall that he never failed to find.

"Pussy's like a damn furnace. Who needs the generator, when we got this."

His palm is still cold, but you're starting to sweat, feeling the prickle of it across your scalp as you move, panting into the warm air of Joel's home. He could hold you like this forever, be buried in you like this forever as the world outside turned to ice, and you wouldn't mind.

But you're made painfully aware that this can't last forever as you feel yourself getting closer, pressure building inside you with each buck of your hips.

"Joel."

It's dizzying - his slowly warming palm and fingers, now red hot inside of you as they press and press and press at you in a way that would normally have you boneless if you were lying on his bed. But, standing here in the kitchen, you lock out your knees and hold on, white knuckle gripping the counter with your own still cold hands.

A shudder hits you when his cold face nudges yours again, and you turn your head to meet his lips in a kiss. He pulls the warmth from you there too, his cold nose nudging at yours. Even through your panties and the restricted movement of his hand, you can hear how wet you are, sloshing beneath his palm as you let out a keening moan straight into his mouth.

"S'okay. I got you."

He coaxes it out of you, you can feel it coming, his fingers picking up the pace, making the nudge of his palm just right, for just long enough, to send you skyrocketing in his arms.

It's white hot, sending a shiver down your spine as an orgasm ripples through you, twinkling behind your eyelids before exploding in your core, a muted breathy scream pulling from you with each gasping breath that leaves your mouth. You're falling apart as he holds you together, coming on his fingers and beneath his palm as he grinds it into every rock of your hips. Well practiced hands stop just as you're hitting a point of oversensitivity, cupping and holding onto you gently as you go as limp as you can in his arms, knees locked to keep you upright.

He swallows down each of your moans greedily, until you're left breathing heavy, forehead pressed to his. You feel half asleep, even standing on two feet.

"S'your turn," you mumble, only to be dissmissed by Joel with a promise of "later". You're grateful for it, feeling too sleepy to function all of a sudden, until Joel's voice rumbles through you once more.

"I'd say you make a great handwarmer, darlin'."

Laughter spills out of you, warm and bright, the heat in your cheeks warming his nose as he nuzzles against you once again.

"Only one problem," he murmurs, the cottonwool slowly clearing from your head.

"Mm?"

"Got two hands."

His other hand is still cold, he knows it is, but that doesn't stop him from snaking it up your waist, under your sweater and tickling at your bare stomach. You crumple in on yourself, legs that had held you through orgasm buckling as you twitch and laugh into him, smacking your fists into his sturdy chest.

"Stop, stop! You ass- asshole! J-Joel! Stop it!"

He lets you taste the laugh on his lips, kissing you once more as his cold hand rests against your bare skin.

"C'mon, let's eat."

You end that day as it started, wrapped up together, oblivious to the world outside and warmer than you had any right to be in a snow storm.

By the fifth day, the storm has passed, and by the sixth the power is back on, just in time for the big day. You both barely notice, staying wrapped up and warm together over the holiday.

You return to your apartment in the New Year and, even though the power has been back on for days and the heat has been pumping steadily, the place has never felt so cold.

In the years to come, you'd ask Joel about that week - the first of a New Year, and the first without you after having you around for so long. He'd tell you how cold it felt, how empty his house was without you in it. And when you turn up on his doorstep at the end of that first week, sniffling and crying and telling him you missed him, he'll crumple, telling you he felt exactly the same before drawing you into his arms and pulling you inside.

And then, eventually, in a home that was his and is now yours, you'll be sat in warmth and sunshine - as unexpected to the you of back then as a snowball to the face - watching your combined families meet for a Christmas not turned on its head by a Texan snow storm.

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr

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“You’re gay..?”

synopsis: An evening binge of horror brings you and your best friend Michael closer than you thought, unlocking things you both had long shoved down, but perhaps opening a world of new possibilities.

tw: coming out, mentions of homophobia, underage drinking and sex jokes (scandalous i know)

a/n: tried to keep this as accurate to the time period as possible (late 80s) but i know Army of Darkness came out in the 90s. I don’t really care though and i don’t think y’all are expecting perfect details in your fnaf fanfiction.

fem aligned please dni, this is a mlm fic

The bell ringing snapped you out of your dream like state. Finally, the end of the day and the end of the week for that matter. Throwing your bag over your shoulder and pulling on the headphones connected to your walkman you made your way out of the school.

As you walked down the halls and out the front door you couldn’t help but notice the familiar sight of a curly haired boy at the entrance. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, then he saw you. He smiled and waved you over. You pulled down the headphones around your head, trying to hide the growing smile on your face. Michael Afton was friend of yours, just that though. No matter how much you two teased each other, at the end of the day you were just friends. Nothing more. 

His voice broke through the chatter of other students, looking over at you and asking, "Hey, you ready for that sleepover?"

Right. You were in such a rush to get home you’d nearly forgotten that you had invited him over. You chuckled though at his question. “Duh. I rented out Evil Dead and Army of Darkness already. Also my family’s gone all this weekend so we’ll have the house to ourselves… you’re free to come over whenever.”

Your parents had told you this morning that they needed to go meet up with some relatives out of town, collecting some documents or something, you weren’t exactly paying attention. They seemed fine with Michael still coming over however, at this point you two had known each other for so long that he was practically family. He always preferred coming over to your place too, he never elaborated too heavily on why but from what you knew his dad was a massive prick. You two had your system, and it worked. A perfect friendship…

His eyes seemed to light up at your words, excitement glittering in their soft blue hue. His kind smile grew even more, the freckled skin around his face crinkling at the strain. ‘God you need to stop staring at his face, you freak.’ The thought had weaseled it’s way in, echoing in your brain like a poltergeist whispering it in. Your gaze flickered to the ground as his smiled once more.

“Shit, that sounds awesome! I’ll swing by in a little bit, just need to grab some stuff from home. Anything I should bring?”

You thought for a moment and shook your head, trying to remain casual. “Nothing I can think of, I’m pretty sure I have everything there already.” 

Michael’s smile seemed permanently etched onto his face as he talked to you, beaming like the sun’s rays. "Alright then, I'll trust your judgment. See you soon." He winks before turning to walk away, his bag slung loosely over one shoulder. 

You sighed and walked in the opposite direction, pulling on your headphones again and focusing on the music as you start your walk home. Any time your mind would wander it would always lead back to Michael. You kept trying to shake it off but it clung to you like a plague that had no cure. You didn’t feel this way about any of your other friends, so why Michael? What made him so special that he seemed to be in your every waking thought? Why did it have to be a guy..?

Before you knew it you were at your doorstep and using the key tucked under the welcome mat to unlock the door and let yourself in. You kicked your boots off at the door and trudged you way inside, throwing your bag down in your room. Walking back out into the living room you sighed and tided up a bit, putting out some snacks and making things look presentable. You got so lost in your thoughts that barely noticed that the doorbell rang, quickly hopping up from your seat you went to open it, welcoming Michael into the house like you had done millions of times before. He took his shoes off and left them near yours by the doorway, going and making himself comfortable in the living room.

He crashed down onto the sofa looking around excitedly. "You've really got everything covered here. This is gonna be epic."

You chuckled and nodded in response, running into the kitchen and opening the fridge to reveal the six pack of beer you had stashed away earlier. Quickly returning back to the living room you hold it up, proudly beaming, “Also, look what I managed to snag us.”

Michael's eyes light up with excitement as he sees the beer. "Oh, you sneaky little devil. That's perfect!" He takes the beer from you and sets it down on the coffee table. "How’d you even manage to get this?" He smirks at you mischievously.

You open one of the bottles and take a large swig of it, sarcastically retorting. “I have my ways. Besides, something told me getting drunk while watching gorey zombie movies would be a great idea.”

He let out a small laugh, “Yeah well, it feels in line with all our other great ideas.”

“What, like when we went to the scrap yard and you decided you could totally just pick up a possum like it was nothing?” You shoot back, a teasing smile on your face as you put in the VHS and grab the remote.

He left out a mock gasp, playfully hitting your shoulder when you sat down on the couch next to him. “In my defense we were in middle school,” he jeered.

You rolled your eyes in response. “Even in middle school I knew not to grab a feral animal. You’re lucky you didn’t get rabies.”

He huffs and settles back on the couch, leaning comfortably against the armrest. "So tell me, have you ever seen Evil Dead before? It's a cult favorite for a reason."

“I’ve seen it more times than I can count. It’s one of my favorites, I mean Bruce Campbell does such a great job as Ash,” You respond. A strange, but familiar sensation creeps into you, a warmth spreading through you chest as he talks. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him, leaning on the other end of the sofa. Something about seeing him so comfortable, the golden light of the sun set reflecting off his face… it made you feel flushed like you had never felt before. You lock your eyes on the TV, trying to hide your face behind your hair.

Michael chuckles softly as he listens to you speak. His laugh echos through your head as if you were trying to savor the sound of them. "I bet you're gonna love Army of Darkness. It's one of my personal favorites." He says with a hint of excitement in his voice.

You laugh a bit, taking another sip of the beer in your hand. “Oh yeah? What, the chainsaw hand turn you on or something?” You tease sarcastically.

Michael's cheeks flush red at your comment, but he doesn't let it show. Instead, he gives you an exaggerated wink and a cocky grin. "Well, now that you mention it..." 

You let out a noise of mock scandal, dramatically clutching onto your chest for dramatic effect. 

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly at your response. "I don't know why you're so surprised. After all, we are men, aren't we?"

You roll your eyes and shake your head at his sarcastic retort. “I guess I just don’t get it,” you laugh. You finish off the bottle of alcohol, before placing it on the coffee table and murmuring, “Then again, I don’t understand a lot of the stuff guys our age are into.”

Michael chuckles and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looks at you intently, his eyes sparkling with interest. "What do you mean by that?" He asks, his tone seemingly full of genuine curiosity rather than mockery or ridicule.

I glance over at him, pulling my knees up to my chest and thinking out a response. Did you really want to tell him? Tell him that you’re different than everyone else in your friend group? Your voice felt caught in your throat as you spoke, it felt like letting poison into your body, like you were confessing to something wicked and truly evil. “I guess it’s just… I hear what you and the other guys talk about, like the girls at school and whatever. And I just don’t… feel the same way you do? I don’t know how to describe it, but… I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way.”

Michael’s eyes grow wide in surprise, and he seems taken aback by your honesty. He lets out a small laugh and shakes his head, smiling warmly at you. God that smile, it could seem to solve any problems you had. Making you feel instantly at ease, like it was magic or something.

"Well, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," he says with a slight chuckle. Then he sighs and leans back against the couch, looking thoughtful. "But I think you're being too hard on yourself. I think everyone feels that way sometimes."

You shake your head and follow his lead by leaning back, staring up at the ceiling. “Don’t worry, you’ve never made me uncomfortable…” Far from it, it seemed as if he was the only friend you could really be yourself around, not have to worry how other will perceive you. When it was just the two of you, it felt like you were in your own little world where the only thing that mattered was the other person there with you. “It’s… It’s nice getting this off my chest. Cause like, I’m sure I’ll feel that way someday, but with my past girlfriends and whatnot, I just… haven’t felt it. I haven’t felt that spark… not with a girl…” The last part seemed to fall out of your mouth against your will. Your brain seemed to hear those words and go into overdrive, chastising you for letting that be spoken, demeaning you for not keeping that locked away like you had this entire time.

Michael's brow furrows in confusion, his expression growing more serious. He stares at you for a moment before speaking. "Wait, you've never been attracted to a girl? Or you've never had any romantic feelings towards a girl?" He asks, his tone sounding more concerned than anything else.

It felt as if a light went off in your brain, everything clicking into place as it dawned on you. The sinking feeling of dread attacking next as all you can do in answer, “…Both. I’ve never been attracted to girls, nor have I been interested in them romantically…”

Michael’s jaw drops open slightly, his eyes widening in shock. He sits up straight, his mouth forming a perfect ‘O.’ He stares at you for several moments before speaking, his voice filled with disbelief. "Wow. Really?"

“Michael…” you pause, trying to formulate the sentence in your head. “I think… the way I’m supposed to feel about girls, is how I feel about guys,” you implied, hoping he’d get the message you were trying to convey.

Michael’s eyes widen further still, and he looks absolutely stunned. He takes a few deep breaths, and then speaks in a quiet, shaky voice. "Are you… gay?" He asks hesitantly, looking at you expectantly, waiting for your answer. His voice sounds incredibly unsure of himself, and he looks extremely nervously.

You can’t meet his gaze, to nervous to see the way he’s looking at you. You didn’t want to say the word, you didn’t know if you could say the word. Your whole body seems to tremble as you nod a bit, your voice shaking as you whisper out, “Y-Yeah… I think I am…”

Michael’s eyes go wide once more, and he looks completely floored. He stares at you for a while longer, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. He seems unable to believe what he’s hearing, and he keeps repeating, “You’re gay?!” over and over again.

It feels as if suddenly the implications of what you said came crashing down around you. You grab onto his shoulders, finally meeting his gaze as you plea, “Y-You can’t tell anyone. The whole school already think I’m a queer, I don’t need their suspicions getting confirmed. And with the way this town is, the way my parents are… if anyone else knows I’m as good as dead…”

Michael’s eyes widen even further, and he looks absolutely horrified. He quickly stands up from the couch, and pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you close to his chest. He whispers into your ear, “It’s okay. Nobody will find out. Not from me, not from anyone.”

You sigh a bit, feeling his arms wrap around. The tension melting away with each deep breath you took until you could finally manage to whisper out, “…thanks.”

Michael holds you close, his hands running through your hair and rubbing your back. He lets out a small laugh, and he begins to rock you back and forth slowly. He hums quietly, a small smile playing across his lips. He leans down, kissing the top of your head. He looks over at you, and his smile grows wider. "You're welcome."

Your brains feels as if it freezes from the sudden intimacy of the moment. You think for a moment, your gaze flickering down to the floor before looking back at him. Was this really how friends responded to situations like this? By holding each other like the were an old married couple?

You hesitantly reach a hand up to brush some of his hair out of his face, stealing a glance at his lips only to look back up at him. He looked heavenly in this light, his soft, sky blue eyes were warm, but hiding something behind them. He was always good at masking what he was thinking, you could guess as to why…

Michael blinks a few times, and he stares back at you with a smile. His eyes widen when you touch his hickory colored hair, and he lets out a soft laugh. He closes his eyes, enjoying the sensation of your fingers in his hair. When you look back up at him, he opens his eyes, and they twinkle with mirth. He leans closer, and he presses his lips to yours. He pulls back after a few seconds, and he looks at you with a grin. He runs his thumb along your cheek, and he speaks in a low voice. "You're amazing."

You pause, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of being entirely wrapped up in him. It felt as though that little world the two of you had was shrinking in, pushing you together. You slowly raise your both of your hands to grab onto the sides of his face, pulling him in gently for another kiss. It’s a little hesitant but still filled with so much emotion, only breaking away when the lack of oxygen gets to you. If it had been up to you, the two of you would’ve stood there, kissing for an eternity. But as you pull back, gazing up at him, you can’t help but mutter, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that…”

Michael smiles widely, and he reaches up to cup your face in both of his hands. He leans forward, and he presses his lips to yours once more. He breaks away after a minute or two, and he looks up at you with a soft smile. He runs his hand through your hair again, and he speaks in a low voice. "I think I might love you."

“I…” you hold back a chuckle, leaning into his touch with a warm smile, “I think I might love you too…”

i am on my period and in pain which means

i deserve shameless selfish fanfcition

xdh + your period 💭💫

cw: periods, period sex, shower/bath sex, mention of taking pictures during sex, boys taking care of you, toys, slight crack, fingering, pegging

gunil

takes care of you so nicely :-(

even carries you around if you want to

makes you laugh, handles your mood swings, gets you chocolate or sweets, pets your tummy, etc. the perfect guy

is somehow against fucking you on your period because he's so scared of hurting you + the blood makes him even more uneasy because he associates it with hurting you

he likes the bloody mary blowjobs but feels bad you're not getting off :-(

until you get home with one of those phone controlled vibrators. and somehow now you're sitting at your couch shaking in your metaphorical boots because you're not allowed to cum before he says so

always gives you the go ahead. he can"t deny a woman in need

jungsu

takes great care of you :-( my lovely oldest child

has a hot pack at his place for your cramps 🥺

def is one of those people that will clean the house for you when you're not feeling well. you'll take a nap and wake up to your dishes in the dishrack, your floor swept, the living room organized..

when it comes to sex, he is a little afraid to hurt you – but everytime you assure him you'll be fine he breaks his resolve

but in his head, the best thing to do is fucking in the bath. hear him out

1) it's warm. it's relaxing. it'll help with the cramping and the full-body horrors menstruation brings with it

2) he'll wash your hair for you!! he'll give you a massage!! let him pamper you a little

3) you can lay on his chest and he'll either finger you with his head on your shoulder or put his cock in you and fuck you sooooo lazily, just grinding and making you feel full

4) no clean up, no staining, only water and a nice orgasm to tire you out a little

jiseok

first off, always goes thank god you're not pregnant even though you're on birth control + you're both careful. he's ridiculous

ALWAYS!!!! has ibuprofen on him

"how's the uterus?"

def the uterUS guy

which means. he's with you every single second he can. you can't get off your bed? neither can he, guess you'll have to cuddle. you wanna take a walk to ease your cramps? he's by your side, hope you wanna hold hands. you need a good cry? you're crying on his shoulder. you want to eat a mountain of carbs? he's ordering double so you can eat together

guess who's getting fucked!!!!! if you're down ofc.

lays down a towel on the bed Or.. fucks you in the shower <3

used to lift your leg up onto his hip but you nearly lost balance once and now ya'll are scared so. your hands are on the tiles and you're nearly bent over while he slams into you !

really likes how the squelching is louder because of the blood+fluids and

every time he can see blood smeared on the top of his thighs/on his cock everytime he pulls out he goes a little bit insane .

not because it's blood, but because it's SO messy. probably has pictures somewhere in his phone.

likes cumming inside because you were already loose and messy before and now you're even looser and messier .

and thinks it's cute when his cum drips out a shade of pink. he's ridiculous

seungmin

DEFINITELY has a period tracker app

"hey baby have you started your period yet? i'm bringing you some cake either way i know you get grumpy without a sweet treat <3"

response to this ranges from who are you calling grumpy seungmin to full on sobbing because your boyfie is so nice to you

either way, he embraces you in a hug and coos about his baby being emotional

softest ever when you ask him to fuck ;-(

delicate with how he touches you

softest love making towels on the bed missionary.

tender touches tummy pats

"are you doing okay baby? do you want to keep going?"

"is my baby feeling better? is this helping?"

you'd NEVER believe it's the same guy that is usually a menace to you

don't let him fool you though.. his head Is spinning with how sloppy your cunt is

hyeongjun

nicest boy alive. is at your beck and call. if you go [sighs] i wish i had a sweet treat :-( he's already putting shoes on to buy you cookies

lays his head on your stomach because the weight and the warmth makes you more comfortable :-( pet his hair as a treat pls

NOTHING a good nap can't cure. the blinds are closed, the ac is on, the fluffy blankets are on top of you, hyeongjun is spooning you with a firm hand on your tummy, you're only waking up 3h later with a whole new mood. now the gamble is Which Mood

will do Anything you ask fr

now in this blog we have established he's fingering master. that's what you'll be doing .

it's not that he thinks it's disgusting having actual sex on periods or anything . he's just so lazy. it's sooo much easier to just wash his hands later instead of prepping the whole bed in case of any leakage or blood stains

(he has seen you cry over staining the sheets. he's not taking chances)

it's so much faster to shove his hands down your pants and finger fuck you clothed, pad and all.

plus its super common to feel icky about yourself on your period and he respects that so much !!! the clothes only come off if you want them to come off

if it gets Too Much he's not opposed to fucking you in the shower, pressing his whole front against your back and covering your stomach with a giant hand.....

jooyeon

unfortunately for some, he won't be eating you out.

i don't think he'd love the taste of blood (i don"t think many people do,) so it's generally off limits ? but he's making it up to you for sureeeeeeeeeee.

his favorite way to do so is being pegged.

once joked about how once a month you switch both roles and holes and earned a slap across his head.

goes :-( can i pls suck your boobs and if you say no because you're tender he goes :-( pls just the tip just a little bit i swear i'll be gentle

if you give in, he's actually unbearably soft with kitten licks and soft little kisses. and now you want him to be rougher and this fuckass won't do it

has emergency pads/tampons at his place!!!! your period is NOT messing with cuddle time. oh you suddenly started it and stained your pants? no one is going home your clothes are in the washing machine you're wearing boxers and you're chilling under the blankets.

tried to hit you with the hey babe what size pussy you wear and received absolutely NOTHING in return. joo was IGNORED and REJECTED so he bought what felt right+whatever had the same color of the package you had at your house

Request: How about there being a difference between Simon Riley and Ghost?? GN reader having the privilege of knowing Ghost as a man who bleeds and the immortal legend of horror. They’ve gotten close enough (never close enough to be considered a relationship, but platonic enough to be essential to each other’s sanity, Simon’s always been at a distance) and are roommates off base/out of service.

There’s a severe thunderstorm coming — and Simon Riley doesn’t particularly like the clashing winds and thunder. It feels like the house is rattled and threatening to come down. (C-PTSD? Angst with comfort? Simon becomes little spoon? Make some tea to comfort him? Maybe?)

a/n: oh dear, this made me weirdly sad while writing this?? like i almost cried, i think it’s bc i’m on my period. also, sorry, didn’t really include the thunderstorm thing?? i can write a separate fic for that if you want!!!

Anyone who knows Ghost knows that there is a difference between Ghost and Simon Riley.

For example, you always thought that Ghost looked taller than Simon, even though you knew it was physically impossible. Even when wearing the same boots, Ghost just seemed larger.

At first, you were, to put it mildly, scared shitless of Ghost. The way he towered over everyone, his hulking presence looming behind you as he watched you silently. He would stare, never seemed to blink. People joked that he was cataloguing information, gathering everyone’s strengths and weaknesses. When you were in the field it scared you just how quiet he was, how easy it was for him to slip into the shadows. Didn’t help that he never talked to you much in the beginning, except for the occasional grunt of acknowledgement.

The day you finally met Simon was when you both were on a reconnaissance mission. Somehow, everything went south and in the chaos, Ghost was hit. He had grumbled about leaving him behind, but you saw it, the slight look of fear in his eyes. This was a man who realized just how close to death he was, who had a human desperation to live that choked his words. You ended up basically dragging him to the extraction point, where you both promptly passed out.

Ever since that day, Ghost had become Simon. You saw the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled behind his mask. The way that he loved to make stupid jokes. How he bounced his leg in long meetings.

In the months following, he and you had become close friends. When you had been looking for an apartment off base, it had been only natural to live with Simon. You two each had your own bedroom but it had become habit to share the bed, limbs entangled, chests rising and falling in sync. It scared away the nightmares.

Everyone at base was always trying to figure out what your deal was with Ghost, asking if you were dating. You just shrugged, leaving them to wonder. It was strange, what you had with Simon, you knew that. Weirdly codependent. It didn’t bother you, you were perfectly fine with how things were. You didn’t need anything more than your quiet moments, your quick hand squeezes, the times you had traced the scars on his face with your finger.

You had Simon Riley, and he had you, and that was enough.

Barrayaran Uniforms

My laptop’s still broken so it’s been a messing-around-with-gouache-paint weekend! I always draw too small so doing the deatails on this one was rough! 😫

Modern imperial dress greens on the left, and an attempt at vorkosigan house livery on the right (I don’t love how the vorkosigan house one turned out so I’m probably gonna rework it some more before adding anything to the ol’ headcannon)

NOTES ON IMPERIAL DRESS GREENS

-book mentions stiff high uncomfortable collars, forest green color, riding boots and side piping. There should also be two ceremonial swords but I got lazy

- I wanted to put an emphasis on embroidery and hand details in barrayaran fashion in general so I picked side piping a little more intricate and ornate than just a simple stripe

- originally I was put piping across the front like in the reference, but it got too busy and I wanted the chest to be a little simpler that way medals and other stuff would stand out better against the fabric. Plus having fewer fiddly bits helps it feel more sleek and less out of place in space.

Reference photos:

UNIFORM OVER TIME

- Barrayar as a setting has had to basically speedrun 600 years of fashion history as they make the leap from midieval to space-age in a single generation. In order to show the shift in eras I made a little timeline(ish) of the general changes in the uniform silhouette.

- biggest change in the general silhouette is the gradual shortening of the coat/shirt element from calf lengths tabards to thigh length coats to to waist height jackets

- armor and chainmail fall by the wayside, and guns are picked up. Early occupation uniforms eclectic and a hodgepodge of old midieval weaponry + stolen cetegandan ordenance. They are not uniform at all as the barrayaran military is mostly small gorilla outfits with each fighting force cobbled together from the resources at hand. New Uniformity would come with the return of central government and the implementation of infrastructure for mass production. The uniform would probably stay relatively consistant during the conquest of komarr through the pretendership. Another major shift in in uniform style would probably occur during the regency or Gregor’s coronation in reflection of the successful regime change and the continued push towards a more modern barrayar

Here’s some rough outlines:

Reference Collages from photocopies of a fashion history book I picked up from the library a while back. Don’t remember the title. Will edit post when I do Left is Russia (not sure which century). Right is references for occupation fighters pulled from various pages, time periods, and nationalities (Russia, Mongolia, Crete and turkey maybe? Idk) I wrote all the page numbers down on the collage but I returned the book so now they’re useless.

Thanks for reading!