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hunterssm00n · 1 month

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Find You

One month after the events of SOTL but before Hannibal (2001): Clarice Starling is an FBI agent on the hunt for one Doctor Hannibal Lecter, and she reflects on their strange connection. | Hannibal Lecter/Clarice Starling |

also on my ao3: here

*cw mild language*

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I look for you in the center of the sun / I took a pill but it didn't help me numb / I see your face even when my eyes are shut / But I never really know just where to find you...

"You're dancing circles around me You're fucking crazy Oh oh, you're crazy for me Oh oh, you're crazy for me..." ~ 'Cruel World' - Lana Del Rey

X.x

"Starling. Starling. Starling. A bird with strong wings and feet, capable of flying great distances. Often bears a dark complexion with a vague, metallic sheen coating it's feathers... as if it were dipped in oil. Wouldn't you agree, Clarice?"

"Well, of that I'm not sure, sir. I don't think I've ever seen one; none that I would be able to identify, at least."

"An interesting creature - most phylum cordata usually are. Are you at all interested in the study of species?"

"Sure, I guess, but not of the animal variety, Doctor Lecter."

"Ahh, because there are different species of human, right you are. Is that why you chose to become a figure of law enforcement, Clarice? To study the sea of moral defecation around you, and to try to cleanse the world of it?"

"Mm, when you say it like that, it sounds more like you're describing a scientist, to me. Or maybe a doctor."

"But we are all scientists to our own right, aren't we, Clarice? And doctors are really just glorified scientists, schooled to understand the inner workings of something and to try to find medically accurate compensation where there is a lack. Officers of the law do this as well, but not in the biological sense - more so in the social sense. They weed out those cancerous forms that attempt to spread evil unto the world; cut them out with the steel scalpel of To protect and serve. This requires some science, Clarice. You have done your own studying of the world."

"I have. We all have, sir."

"Sir. Doctor Lecter. So polite. Society lacks manners, nowadays. It's only gonna get worse from here."

"Not a very positive outlook for the future."

"I have hopes, but not high ones for society. Can you really blame me, Clarice? What with people like Buffalo Bill wreaking havoc in different parts of this cruel world?"

"With all do respect, Doctor, one could look at your actions and say the same."

"Mmm, clever girl. Too clever. You don't agree to fight violence with violence? Survival of the fittest? You'd likely lay your body down to form a bridge for those less fortunate, Clarice, and they would end up collapsing you to climb their 'lil selves on up that laddah."

"But you can't fight fire with fire, either, sir. There has to be some sort of balance."

"And if they're not willing to compromise, Clarice? If they are not as sympathetic as you, then what?"

"I guess I'll have to cross that bridge when I come to it."

"Starling. Birds are quite impressive creatures, aren't they? The starling itself isn't widely known, but it is a clever little creature indeed. Strong little wings, sturdy feet with which to stand. It also has the ability to mimic the sounds of other animals that it hears - sometimes even the vocal sounds of humans."

"This is very interesting, Doctor Lecter, but I'd really like to get back on topic."

"Does it sound like I'm describing you, Clarice? Do you repeat the things you hear from higher-ups in the department? Has Jack Crawford made you his puppet?"

"What do you think, Doctor? You've studied me at every meeting. Do my words sound like they've been scripted? Do they sound like they would ever come out of Jack Crawford's mouth?"

"No, Agent Starling, they do not. You are indeed a creature all your own."

"So if I am a Starling, sir, what are you?"

"That depends on you, Clarice. I am either the cage keeper, or the one who opens the door and sets you free. The choice is yours."

X.x

"Clarice?"

Her face hurt; felt like it was being mushed against a hard surface. The voice broke through the darkness she had fallen into, and now she was slowly coming back to the world of consciousness, very slowly.

"Clarice,"

She groaned with the effort of opening her eyes; her head felt as heavy as a bowling ball on her thin neck as she tried to raise it. When her eyes fluttered and focused, she noticed the light brown of the smooth top of her desk to the right of her vision. Lifting her head more, she realized it had been resting on the black and white mug shot of Hannibal Lecter in an old newspaper. She'd actually fallen asleep while working. All throughout school she hadn't even done that.

"Jesus," Came a female voice from behind her - probably Ardelia wondering where the hell her partner had been.

Clarice lifted her head all the way up off the desk, wisps from her ponytail sticking to the side of her face that had been covering the newspaper. She absently wiped a hand across her cheek, wondering if it would come away with gray smudges from the newspaper that were probably printed onto her face. Being so close to Doctor Lecter's mugshot on the paper, she noticed that the two dimensionality of the black and white photo did nothing to diminish his stare. It was as if he was staring into the soul of whomever was holding the paper - like he was staring into her soul once again.

Clarice turned around in her chair to face the woman whom she roomed with, Ardelia. Ardelia had graduated the academy shortly after Clarice had, and until they could each afford their own stable homes, they decided to share an apartment to help build their individual savings. They knew each other well - they'd survived the academy as roommates and knew they could live with one another (and only wanted to kill each other on rare occasions). They were now best friends, and knew almost everything about each other, so Ardelia was probably not surprised that even on their day off, Clarice was still working.

The other woman would have only been surprised if it was any other case she was working on.

"Girl, you look rough," Ardelia commented, not unkindly. Rather than suggest food or rest (or a therapist), she knew Clarice well enough to know that those questions would not phase her. Instead she asked: "Any leads?" Clarice appreciated her for everything she said - she knew the other woman was only looking out for her.

"Um," Clarice looked down at the small drool stain slowly seeping into the paper right next to Doctor Lecter's mug shot. "Not yet, today." She rose from the chair and stretched, groaning as her neck cracked from being at the odd angle when her face rested against the desk. How long had she been like that? "Any idea what time it is?" Apparently she'd removed her watch at some point too. God, she was never this disoriented.

"A little after twelve," Ardelia had checked her own watch, peering around Clarice at the desktop. She, herself, was all dressed up - dressy casual in nice black pants and a sweeping flowery top. Clarice had known she had a date this morning - brunch at a little diner in town with another agent that had graduated from the academy.

"How'd it go this morning?" She'd been out with this guy a few times, and Clarice could sense a brewing romance.

"Great," Ardelia replied, picking up the newspaper that lay flat on the desktop, "We're gonna catch a movie later tonight too." She moved the paper closer to her eyes, then brought it back down almost as soon. "He's one hell of a creep, huh?"

Clarice nodded, remembering back to the first time she had met him; the way he calmly stood in the middle of the cell, staring through the glass like he'd been expecting someone. The way his eyes lit up when they settled on hers - like he'd been expecting her.

Ardelia gave an exaggerated shudder and set the paper back down on the desk. "How do you not have nightmares?"

Clarice glanced at the photo, shrugging non-committedly, "I guess I'm just used to it now."

The truth was, she did have nightmares - she just didn't believe that he was the source. Most of the time it was the death of her father; the lambs screaming in terror as they were lead to the slaughter. It didn't happen every night, but enough that she had become used to waking up in the middle of the night, the blankets drenched with her sweat and tears rolling down her cheeks.

The only one she'd ever told about that was Hannibal Lecter. He was the only person in her life who'd ever thought to ask such dark questions.

What she also hadn't told Ardelia was that she did dream of him. Every single night. Not all of them were nightmares, though he somehow wound up in those as well. Sometimes it was simply her walking down the long stretch of concrete in the basement of the asylum; past the jeering, howling inmates in their cells. Some of the cells had lambs in them - some of the inmates were holding little lambs, and that was why they were screaming. Clarice knew he was at the end of the hallway; she just had to walk past this chaos to get to him. Finally, as always, he was waiting there, much like he had been the very first time she'd seen him, except he was much closer to the glass this time. He was awaiting her arrival, and she was anticipating the sight of him. He would smile salaciously at her, and raise a hand to the glass, pressing his palm against it. Stepping closer to the glass, she would raise her own hand and mirror his movement, placing it over his as though there was no glass between them. They would stay like that for three seconds, looking each other right in the eye. He would smile, and she would feel her lips begin to do the same. And then she would wake up.

At the moment, that dream was the most recurring in her mind. She couldn't remember what she had just dreamt about when she'd been asleep a few moments ago, but she would bet her life he had been in it.

She had to find him.

She had to find out why he occupied her every waking thought.

"Christ, I'd never sleep again if I had to be the one to talk to him. You've got nerves of steel." Ardelia commented, kicking off her shoes. "I'm gonna jump in the shower real quick. Do you wanna come to the movie later on too? We could grab one of the other guys to come, keep you company." The woman winked at her, and Clarice rolled her eyes with a smile.

"No thanks, I'm actually gonna go out myself; run some errands, exercise a bit."

"Oh great!" Ardelia looked relieved that her friend was actually leaving the apartment for a reason other than work. Clarice felt bad that she worried her so, but she couldn't stop what she was doing. It had become a mania. She had to catch this man.

Clarice padded into her bedroom to get dressed - she wanted to put her most comfortable workout clothes on. She didn't tell Ardelia that she was still hoping to find something to point her in the right direction. She had searched high and low, found a few things along the way but nothing very significant. She couldn't let him disappear anymore than he already had.

She stripped off her clothing - just an FBI t-shirt and a pair of matching sweatpants she used for pajamas. She was pulling a long sleeved shirt over her head when she saw it - something out of the ordinary. It lay on the top of her comforter, a folded up piece of paper. It wasn't white printer paper, but a cream colored thick paper, like something artists used. Clarice swallowed hard, moving across the carpeted floor to her bed. There is no way... Or was there? There was only one person that she knew of that would leave a note for her with that kind of paper. Artists parchment.

"You sonofabitch," she whispered, reaching out and gently grasping the paper as though she feared it would crumble between her fingers. Her hand trembled slightly as she brought it up off the comforter, but not out of fear. She would never admit the emotions that stirred within her - not in a thousand years. Not even to herself. Slowly she opened the two flaps so that the page was expanded to its fullest extent. It was only folded in half once, and when she opened it she could see why. There was a graphite drawing of a woman holding a baby lamb. The amount of shading and detail that was on the page, which wasn't bigger than 8x5 inches, was incredibly impressive. Not that she was surprised. The artist once told her that his memory had been all he had during his imprisonment. She knew he had an incredible eye for memorization and detail.

What did startle her a little was that the woman in the picture was her. The likeness couldn't have been more accurate - it was like she was looking into a mirror. It momentarily stunned her as she stared into her own eyes, her own arms cradling the tiny lamb to her chest. In the drawing she had what looked to be a cloak wrapped around both of them, leaving her shoulders bare but modestly covering every other part of her.

The second clear thought was that the person who had so carefully placed the note on her bed had to have snuck in sometime within the past two hours, because that was about how long she'd been asleep for. The person who had snuck in had to have meticulously calculated when she would be alone in the apartment - was he trying to time it so that she would be asleep? Had he thought he could catch her while she'd been awake? A million different questions ran through her mind, all at once, leaving her breathless.

The third thing she noticed, the most telling feature of all, was the short inscription on the bottom left side of the page, written in thin black ink.

"Liberty for wolves is death to the lambs."

~H.L.

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AN: I do not own the SOTL/Hannibal franchise or any of its characters. I also do not own the song ‘Cruel World’ by Lana Del Rey, or the song ‘Find You’ by Nick Jonas. The above photos are from Pinterest, and attached are the links to the original images.

#sotl #silence of the lambs #hannibal lecter #clarice starling #hannibal 2001 #my drabbles #my work #mine**#my writing #drabble #hannibal x clarice #fanfiction #fanfic #slasher community #slasher fandom #clannibal #ao3 #hunterssm00n

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hunterssm00n · 5 months

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Deal / part 3 /

What first starts out as a cruel prank turns into a night of unmatched passion. | Waylon Jones/OC |

part 3 of 3

also on ao3: here

*cw include smut, explicit situations, size kink, teratophilia, fear play, dirty talk, anxiety attack, extremely mild dubcon (for point one second but tagging just in case), graphic description* MDNI - 18+

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

/ / Devour / /

If you chose to stay a little bit longer I'd make it worth your while...

There was no way I was leaving now.

I nodded at Croc, looking into his yellow eyes with affirmation. In those glowing orbs surprise shown momentarily, but he quickly let out another one of his trademark gravelly laughs as though to cover it up. Not for the first time, I felt a squeeze of pity in my heart for him. Everyone thought he was a monster; everyone said he was nothing more than an animal. But he had shown me empathy, fairness, and kindness. None of which the very much human guards and orderlies, who had thrown me in here in the first place, had shown me. This so-called "monster" treated me better than those scumbag "normal" humans did. As far as I was concerned, I felt safer in here, with him, Waylon Jones, than I did out there with my coworkers.

I licked my lips as he crawled back up my body, his hulking form covering me completely, like a large, protective cocoon. A massive claw-tipped hand came up to brush away pieces of my hair that were stuck to my face from sweat and exertion. If he tried, he was clearly capable of gentleness though the movement from him felt almost uncertain. Violence and brute force came easily to him, being a man that's had to fight for his life for his whole life. Gentleness was something he was not used to. So tonight, I was determined to show him some.

I reached up my right hand from where it had been down at my side, previously clutching at the mattress while he'd been doing his extremely kind ministrations to my lower region, and brought it slowly up to his face, which was only about a foot above mine. I made sure to move carefully so as not to startle him, and I gently ran my fingertips up from his scaly jaw to his equally rough cheek. The scales on his face weren't any smoother than his chest; in fact they were rougher, his complexion cracked and unforgiving under my soft fingertips. This did not deter me from my journey, and I really hoped he was okay with my exploration of his visage. My eyes looked to his in a silent question, asking permission, and I saw no resistance in those yellow orbs - only unspoken encouragement. So I kept going.

I cupped his scaly, broad jawline in my palm, stroking my thumb over the corner of his mouth and the sharp, non-human teeth that protruded from the inside. I smoothed my hand over his head, traced his brow, his nose, his chin, everywhere. He submitted to my study, reptilian eyes watching me curiously the whole time. The feel of his gaze on me made my own face grow hot, and the arousal began creeping back between my legs, my skin becoming tingly all over once again. I continued my explorative touches on him, moving my hand down his thick, sinewy neck, running my fingers over the ridges of skin and the hard muscle underneath. The back of his head and neck had rougher, pointy looking scales that continued on down his spine, and maybe even beyond the tops of his pants.

From working in the clerks office I had seen many pictures of him, from all angles. Now I got to feel; something that admittedly I had given some thought to before. From looking at those photographs of him when I was filing his paperwork all those times before, I'd wondered what it would be like to touch him - and to have him touch me. I'd wondered what kind of lover he would be; what it would take to make this big man weak. At the time I'd thought of it as just another one of my strange fantasies - especially considering the content of some of the photos in his file. I'd had no idea that I would be actually living this fantasy someday.

"What're you smilin' at, pretty one?"

His gruff but not unkind question made my cheeks burn; I hadn't realized I'd been smiling. Swallowing hard, I asked something that had been fluttering around in the back of my mind since we'd made it to his mattress - and once I'd found out for certain that he was not going to kill me and eat my body, "Can I request an addition to this deal?"

Croc's eyes glimmered with curious amusement, and he tilted his large, muscular head at me inquiringly, "Sure thing- what'd ya have in mind?"

Now I really felt the blush heat my cheeks, and honestly I didn't know for what reason. This man had already eaten me out - like, practically devoured me - and here he was on top of me, half naked from the waist up, while I was half naked from the waist down. But I chalked up the heat on my face up to just the way he looked at me; so predatory, so hungry, so... intimately, like he could see right through me into my very soul. Nothing escaped that golden gaze, and there was no doubt in my mind that he could definitely see the heat rising on my face and neck... and elsewhere, too. I knew reptiles could sense heat, and that was how they hunted. So maybe that had been another factor during our first encounter in the office hallway last week. Maybe along with him smelling my desire, he had seen how warm everything got when he'd touched me. But honestly, when I'd been face to face with this brick wall of a torso, caged in between massive arms and imposing height, and held frozen by yellow eyes that watched me with a true hunters attention and precision - how the fuck could I not be turned on by that?

He was waiting for an answer, and I licked my lips to moisten them since my quick, shallow breathing had dried them out, noticing how that ever watchful predatory gaze flicked down to my mouth. Oh, god... "If- I'll, um, I'll trade a kiss for... for..." Fuck, I hadn't thought that far ahead. A kiss for what? For him fucking me senseless? No, that was already going to happen regardless. Think, think. It was so hard to think in this moment, though. With him shirtless and crouched over me like a predator that had just taken down his prey, and practically salivating while more than ready to devour his meal. And thinking was not the only thing that was hard at the moment; I could feel how hard and hot and massive his erection was, straining through his pants and pulsing against my bare leg. And it hadn't gone down at all, even though at the moment all we were doing was talking and studying each other. If anything, it felt like it had gotten harder, and bigger. What did that mean?

He grinned, not unkindly, while seeing me struggle (and I bet he'd grin even more to see me struggling in other ways; god help me, these thoughts were going to kill me if he didn't do it first), but then he decided to help me out by saying, "Tell ya what; a kiss for," He reached a massive hand up in between us and hooked a claw into the collar of my scrub shirt, lightly pulling it away from my chest, but not hard enough to tear it, though I knew he could, easily. My pants could attest to that, as could the bones strewn around the floor of his 'room'. "This coming off."

Oh. It really was that simple. Why hadn’t I thought of that? In all honesty, I'd nearly forgotten about my shirt that I was still wearing; I felt completely naked and exposed under his gaze, even when I'd been fully clothed.

Eagerly, maybe a little too eagerly, I nodded my head against the mattress underneath him, and his low chuckle caused a fresh gush of wetness to leak out of my bare pussy. My chest was heaving underneath him, and his index claw was still hooked into the collar of my shirt. I wanted him to tear it off of me right now, but I forced myself to stay under control. Plus he hadn't torn it off yet, so he was probably waiting for me to make the first move, since I'd been the one to bring up this new bargain. I mustered up all of the sexy feminine energy I had within me and smoothed my palms over his huge shoulders. "Well, what're you waiting for, big guy? C'mon down here and kiss me."

His mouth quirked in a grin that showed nearly all of those rows and rows of sharp, inhuman teeth, and he huffed incredulously at me once again before leaning his body down to better be able to reach me, "I meant what I said before; you're somethin' else, little Kris."

The nickname sent a shiver through me, the use of my name on his tongue sounding so good, and even more so combined with his other nickname for me. Little one, little Kris. God dayum.

Before I could say anything else, he leaned down and covered my mouth with his. And quite literally covered.

When I'd thought about kissing him I'd wondered how a kiss would work between the two of us. Sure, he had a mouth, with a tongue, so technically he also had lips. Honestly, I didn't really care about the quality of the kiss itself, more about just having that connection. Much like everything else he was doing to me and making me feel, it was like a physical need. I needed to feel those rough lips on mine, claiming me that way too; needed to feel his long, forked tongue in my mouth. It was like I'd been returned to my basest form where human and societal standards and formalities had all gone out the door, and all that was left was this primally charged exposed nerve.

And I was not at all disappointed when our mouths locked in a desire fueled battle for dominance - though there was really no question as to who was winning that battle. Quite honestly, that was just fine with me, because I didn't want to win.

His lips were still scaly and rough, though not as much as the rest of his face. More like the scales that covered his chest and belly, smoother and lighter in color. But just abrasive enough for me to get the shivers at the feel of them lightly scratching my own soft lips. And that reaction increased tenfold whenever I felt one of his teeth against my lip, or whenever my tongue glided over one of those sharp canines. His mouth was much wider than mine, but he was being careful to not open his mouth too wide and accidentally (or maybe purposely) bite my lips off. But weirdly enough I liked the danger of knowing that he could if he wanted to. I liked the mutual feelings of fear and arousal at the thought that he could kill me at any moment - which sounded silly considering I'd practically begged for my life earlier. But I didn't care; I knew I was a complete mess here on this mattress underneath him, Waylon Jones aka Killer Croc, while we made out like two horny teenagers. I ignored the stench of the rotting, dead meat on his breath; I literally switched that part of my brain off. That was how turned on I was, and how much I enjoyed this kiss. It was addictive.

That long, forked tongue scraped the roof of my mouth, and I eagerly sucked on the tip of it when he went to draw it back. A reptilian hiss escaped his parted jaw at my willingness to please, to make sure he was enjoying this as much as I was. His dick in his pants was still hot, hard and pulsing against the inside of my thigh, and I felt it give a jump when I lightly dragged my teeth across his bottom lip.

"You tryin'a kill me?" he groaned against my lips. The gravelly undertone always present in his voice made his words come out in a growl, which made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. He pulled back from my mouth slowly, reluctantly, a string of saliva still connecting our lips. Who knew if it was mine or his - most likely it was both of ours mingled together. I could feel it all over my mouth, my cheeks, my chin. And the more he pulled back I could see that his green face was also shiny with our mixed fluids, and some of it was dripping off of his chin and onto my shirt. And speaking of my shirt...

Croc leaned back so he could fully see me underneath him, and that grin was ever present on his face as he surveyed the scene before him: me, splayed out on his mattress, my dark hair probably strewn everywhere around my head like some sort of dark halo, face covered in drool and sweat, eye makeup probably smeared and running all over my cheeks, lips probably red from kissing his. I probably looked like the mess I felt like. Yet that desire in his gaze never faltered.

When his large lands went to my shirt, a stupid voice of reason yelled out in my mind, and I faltered, "Um- before you rip that, I... I don't... I'll need something to walk out of here in... my stuff is all still in the office..." I felt stupid saying all of that, but it was the truth. I couldn't just walk out of here stark naked and go to the clinic to get my purse and keys; there were cameras everywhere.

He paused for a moment when I spoke, yellow eyes flicking to mine, probably to make sure I wasn't about to tell him to stop (hell no), and once he registered what I'd said he visibly relaxed in what I could tell was relief. And I had no doubt, even only knowing him for this brief amount of time, that if I asked him to stop, he would.

He appeared to think for a moment, a brief moment, and then very quickly after he concluded, "I have some things you can wear outta here."

I hadn't known he had other clothes down here, which made me feel a little bit better about his current living situation - not much, but at least it was something. I'd never been happy about the Asylum's decision to put him down here like an animal, rather than putting him in a cell or a room like the other inmates. I thought it was incredibly dehumanizing. When I'd brought it up to the director he'd told me it was for "everyone else's safety, and for Croc's own safety", whatever that bullshit meant.

I must have nodded or given him some kind of non-verbal go ahead because immediately after his big scale covered hands grabbed two handfuls of my shirt at the modest V neckline. With one more look at my eyes to confirm that this was okay, he pulled at the fabric and my black scrub shirt tore right down the middle. My whole body felt warm and tingly all over; his display of strength was such a turn on. It had been when he'd carried me here, it had been when he'd held me down on the mattress after I'd been afraid he was going to eat me, and it still was now. I knew he'd barely had to exert any strength at all to rip the thin material, but it was still hot. The way his massive biceps flexed when he moved his arms to pull the tattered pieces of my shirt off of my arms? Hot. Hot as fuck.

I knew he was strong; judging by his size alone, anyone could tell that he possessed immense strength. Standing at at least eight feet tall, and with more brawn than a pro-wrestler, it was easy to see. Physical strength was a huge turn on for me, and so was his size; he was so much larger than me. His biceps were bigger than my thighs, and his upper half had a V shape to it that made me want to actually drool. With every move he made I could see the muscles rippling under his skin; slithering like snakes underneath his own scales. Ugh, I'd be lucky to walk out of here alive. If he wasn't going to kill me on purpose then his hotness would kill me on accident.

I also knew from his file in the clerks office that he had done cage fighting and, ahem, alligator and crocodile wrestling - like, where he actually wrestled alligators and crocodiles. Wrestled the animal that had the strongest bite force in the animal kingdom. And he'd done that often. The thought of him in the water, his scales gleaming and dripping wet, muscles flexing as he wrestled his opponent, more animal than man when he needed to be... I needed to stop. I seriously needed to stop.

With a claw slid underneath the front of my bra in between the cups, he shredded through that much like he had done with my shirt. His sharp nails gently scraped over my skin as he pulled the ruined scraps of material away from my body, and my breasts fell free of any confinement before him. Those reptilian eyes immediately zeroed in on the two mounds of flesh, that low crocodilian hiss emanating from him once again. My nipples pebbled into hard peaks without him even having to touch me, just simply from the heat of that fiery golden gaze. When he did touch me my vision went hazy with need. He lightly dragged the tips of his claws over my soft skin, very lightly so as not to scratch or break the skin. It was just this side of teasing, and it felt so good. Too good. His hot, scaly fingertips skimmed the undersides of my breasts, thumbs tracing around my hard nipples. When his large, scalding palms closed over my tits I couldn't help the moan that drifted out of my throat, all high pitched and needy. His hands were so big they completely encapsulated my twin B-cups, and when he lightly squeezed, my own hands curled into fists on either side of my body atop the mattress.

"Pretty little morsel," he ground out above me, voice strained with arousal as he kneaded my tender flesh, "you look good enough to eat,"

My vision refocused on him as he leaned back down towards my body, long tongue coming out of his wide mouth to swipe at a nipple. I whimpered at the feeling; even though it was my breast he was licking, the feeling shot straight down between my legs like an electric current. That tongue continued tracing around my diamond hard nipple, his hot breath scorching my flesh. I trembled beneath him, every lash of his forked tongue sending amazing sensations down below. That coupled with his huge, warm hands cupping the undersides of my mounds to keep my nipples ripe and perked out towards his mouth was almost too much to handle. This whole thing was so hot. I'd never been so glad that I agreed to a trade before.

That tongue explored further over the soft skin of my chest, tracing around my whole breast now, and when he let his sharp teeth lightly skim the sensitive underside my whole body shivered. He switched sides and did the same treatment to my other breast, and by the time he leaned back once again I felt like a literal livewire, my body reacting to every small touch, and every promise of a touch.

When he began removing his own pants I couldn't help the gulp that lodged itself in my throat. Here was a very, very large man before me. What on earth would such a large man's cock look like? Well, I was about to find out. I watched in anticipation tinged with nervous energy as he expertly unfastened and unzipped his own pants despite his inch long claws, and I felt my scalp tingling with excitement.

Usually when I pleasured myself, I was one and done; if I wanted to go again I had to wait at least half an hour, sometimes longer, and even then it was sometimes hard to get back into the same frame of mind as before. But right now I felt very much ready - turned on with the same intensity that I had been before the first climax. It was like that one had slicked me up, and now I was ready to continue; like that was the delicious first part of a multiple course meal. I had been satisfied, but not satiated.

Croc propped himself up with one massive arm near my shoulder, his elbow on the mattress as his other hand shoved his pants down his body, and I looked down, not knowing fully what to expect, but knowing I was about to be wowed. When the monster appendage sprang free from the confines of his wet pants I felt my breath catch in my throat, as well as my pussy becoming swollen with desire. How the fuck was I going to take that?! Much like the rest of him, his member was covered in scales, and was the same mottled, dark green color, although from what I could tell by looking, the scales appeared to be much smoother here, like the ones on his taut lower abdomen. Much like the scales on a snake, it seemed (an anaconda, to be exact); smooth but still very different from a normal human cock. While the base and length was more of that same mottled green color, the tip was pink, and he was extremely swollen and leaking with arousal. Upon seeing it, I felt my mouth water. I wanted to put it in my mouth, though I knew the whole thing would not fit, maybe not even half of it. Ever tried fitting a whole footlong sub in your mouth? Cuz that was what this monster looked like. But I wanted to do it anyways. I wanted to make him feel good like he'd made me feel good.

The thought of him putting that monster thing inside me didn't scare me nearly as much as it should have, though I did get a small thrill of anxiety up my spine at the thought of being filled so heartily. I also was very glad that I wasn't a virgin, as I could only imagine the discomfort of such a big, thick cock breaking me in half. While I was still nervous, I was also filled with want. The desire was making it feel like my loins were on fire.

"Like what ya see, pretty one?" He grinned down at me, and his golden eyes gleamed at me. I noticed, not for the first time, that his pupils, normally vertical slits like those of a reptile, were almost fully blown out in his state of arousal. I was pretty sure mine looked the same.

I nodded at his statement, licking my lips. He was going to stretch me so good; maybe even split me in half. That one annoying little morsel of fear in me wondered if I would be able to even take him; if it would hurt. I hated that stupid little voice, it was such a debbie downer.

Croc leaned down closer to me, now that he was also completely bare, and that long, slimy tongue came out of his mouth to lick a line up my stomach and between my breasts. I shivered; there was such an animalistic way he was handling me, though he was considerably gentle and concerned with my well-being. All of those things combined made me stupid hot for him.

His tongue leaked out of his mouth to lick at the underside of my right breast; long, thick tongue so strange on my skin. I barely had time to register that feeling before the forked tip passed over my nipple and made me feel like a zap of pleasure went straight down my body to the area between my legs. I arched into his mouth, my hands finding his scaly, ribbed shoulders as he hovered over me. The fire down below burned hot, and the only thing that could make it into the inferno that it needed to be was his monster dick.

As if he'd read my mind, yellow eyes gleaming at me, he asked me, "You a virgin, little one?"

I shook my head no, and I honestly thought about asking him the same thing, just out of general curiosity. Though I wasn't super experienced by far, I'd had a couple of boyfriends in the past, and two of them had been my only sexual partners. However, it had never been like this.

One of his large hands drew up towards my face, a big, thick finger sliding underneath my chin to turn my face towards him to look into his eyes. "Don't sweat it, little one, I ain't either. Hope I didn't offend ya by asking - just wanted to make sure so I don't hurt ya; I'm pretty big, and you're, well," Here, he grinned at me, "a little one." I couldn't help but smile at him, at that. "And if my tongue filled you that good," His reptilian eyes glimmered dangerously down at me, "I can't even fuckin' imagine how tight you're gonna be around my dick."

His crass, explicit words sent a zing of pleasure up my spine, and I hoped he continued his graphic description once he was finally seated inside of me. It was yet another thing that I thought was hot about him; that voice made me wet, especially because I could feel it rumbling throughout my whole body when he spoke.

He moved a little bit down my body now, and I felt my heartrate speed up in anticipation of what was about to happen. I'm about to be fucked by the crocodile man in the lowest levels of my workplace. And though I was beyond horny and desperate for him, I was also a little nervous about how exactly I was going to take that massive cock inside of me. How the hell was it going to even fit? Would it hurt the whole time? I couldn't help the anxious thoughts swirling around in my mind.

The large man above me leaned back on his haunches, right over my knees, and I now had the best view of his naked body I'd had yet. Big barrel chest, massive dick staring straight at me, pointed nearly vertical towards the old brick ceiling over our heads, and yellow eyes that seemed to glow from within, tracing over every inch of my also naked form beneath him. It should have made me self conscious, the way he was looking at me, but it didn't.

As if he'd read my mind once again (could he read my mind? Was that one of his crocodile superpowers?), he brought one of his massive, claw tipped hands up to his face, and that tongue came out to coat his open palm and fingers with a thick layer of saliva. I was still incredibly wet from my own arousal and from what he'd done to me with his mouth before, but I was very glad for the extra precaution. He kept eye contact with me the whole time, making me warm and tingly all over, and when his tongue slithered back into that mouth his hand was dripping with saliva. I watched with baited breath as he lowered that hand to the area between my legs, his other hand gently spreading my thighs wider so he could kneel between them. I was now wide, wide open before him, like a goddamn oyster. The first touch of one of his fingers against my pussy had me clenching around nothing, and I would have been embarrassed at the wet sound it made if I wasn't so turned on. He generously spread the fluid around my entrance, using so much of the saliva coated on his hand I could feel it running down the crack of my ass. Not that I minded one bit.

He let a wet finger wander up to my clit to give it a stroke, grinning widely when I squeaked and my legs instantly tried to clamp shut from the ticklish, intense feeling - except they couldn't because he was knelt between them. "That's not n-" My words were cut off by one of his massive fingers prodding at my entrance, and replaced by a gasp that came from my throat instead. Yes. Yes. Yes. Careful of his claw, I felt the very tip of that finger enter me, and was relieved to feel no pain or resistance. His tongue really had slicked me up good before. That first finger slid in rather easily thanks to all the lube of his saliva, plus my body's own personal lubricant that it was providing. Additionally my desperation and eagerness helped, and by the time that finger was fully seated inside of me I was grinding against his hand, panting and trembling atop the mattress. Once he'd seen that I'd gotten used to the first finger, I felt a second one prod at my entrance, and this was where I began to worry a bit. I tried to immediately relax my muscles and relax my mind, and not think about the fact that each one of his fingers were the size of corndogs. Each of them alone were thicker than any cock I'd ever seen. And while he was clearly trying to be careful I was still worried about what that claw could do to the insides of my most sensitive areas.

Upon seeing the expression on my face he immediately paused in his movements and asked me, "You okay, little one? Ya want me to stop?"

I was relieved by his concern and attentiveness towards me, and swallowing hard I shook my head no. I wanted this to happen; it was going to happen one way or another. "I'm okay, k-keep going."

His hand stayed still a moment longer while those eyes studied my face, probably to make sure I really was okay like I'd said, but he must have been satisfied by what he saw because then he continued. That second thick appendage started to slide forward into me once again, alongside the first one, but this time his thumb came up to rub my clit, probably to distract me from thinking too much about the intrusion and the stretch. And that definitely worked; the more his thumb drew circles around my nub, the farther the thought of the burn and the stretch and his claws went from my mind. It wasn't long before I was whining and squirming on top of the mattress from the intensity of the feeling; that scaly finger rubbing his saliva all around my sensitive bud was too good for me to be worrying about anything at all.

"Halfway there, pretty one. Ya still doin' okay?" he asked, and I hadn't realized I'd been squeezing my eyes shut from the pleasurable assault of his thumb continually circling my clit until now. I opened my eyes to see him looking straight at me, amusement quirking one corner of his mouth. The feeling of two of his thick fingers in me was no longer worrisome; now I wanted more. I wanted his whole hand inside me. The stretch was no longer burning but pleasurable. Realizing he was waiting for an answer I quickly nodded my head, and he chuckled as I lifted my hips to try to take in more of those fingers. And I also made a quick mental note to tell him afterwards how much I appreciated him checking in with me to make sure I was okay. Heartless, murderous animal my ass. Those people upstairs didn't know what the hell they were talking about.

Croc slowly slid the second finger the rest of the way in, mindful still of the claw at the tip. By the time it was as far in as it would go, less he risk hurting me, I was eagerly thrusting against his hand and headed steadily towards the freight train of pleasure that would be my second orgasm of the night. "Oh, god," I whimpered, the scaly finger on my clit combined with the thick appendages deep inside of me combined with those eyes watching me... All were the catalysts for my rapidly approaching pleasure. "Croc, I'm gonna cum,"

"Yeahh do it, baby doll," he hissed, "anything that's gonna slick up this tight little pussy, you're tight as fuck around my big fingers and you're gonna be even tighter around my big cock, ain'cha?"

His words and his voice pushed me over the edge, and my body writhed on top of the mattress as the pleasure exploded between my legs; I cried out as the tidal wave pulled me under in the best way, drowning me in sensation. The rushing of blood in my ears as I was coming down was all consuming, but underneath I could still hear his rasping voice quipping, "Guess my relaxation method worked a little too well, huh?"

I was breathing heavily, shaking, coming down from the pleasurable high, but I couldn't resist responding, "If y-you didn't want me to c-cum then you s-shouldn't have been t-touching me so g-good..."

Here he let out a laugh, and I was finally able to open my eyes again to look at his face as he grinned down at me, showcasing those sharp teeth in his wide mouth, "Ohh pretty one I want you to cum - as many times as ya fuckin' can would be preferable. And next time I want you to cum around my cock."

Yesss, my brain whispered to me. The thought of being impaled by his huge member and forced to cum over and over was going to haunt me, I knew. In a good way.

Croc slowly removed those two thick fingers from my womb, making me shudder at the feeling of going from completely stuffed full to barren. At the same time he brought his other hand up to his mouth like he had done before, and this time he spat into his open palm. He then brought that hand down to his hard member, which was swollen and leaking precum at the tip, and smeared the fluid all along his impressive length. He gave it a few strokes up and down, eyes on me all the while, and my cheeks would have flooded with heat if not for the fact that I was still lying boneless atop the mattress from the second explosive orgasm of the evening he'd given me. And even more so when he brought the hand that had been fingerfucking me up to his mouth and sucked my juices off of his fingers. Who had given him the right to be this hot?

Now he placed both of his hands on my hips, pulling me towards him on top of the mattress, and keeping my legs open, he fit my thighs comfortably over his and around his waist. This was happening - this was really happening. Killer Croc was about to raw me in his bed. He drew my hips towards his, and I sucked in a sharp breath when I felt the thick mushroom head of his dick rubbing up and down my slit. "You ready for me, little Kris?" he intoned, voice low and yellow eyes burning bright under his low brow.

Swallowing hard, I nodded. "Yes, please, Waylon, give me your dick,"

His whole body noticeably shuddered at my words, and his grip on my waist tightened as he began to push forward, the thick head spreading my wet pussy lips open for me to take him inside of me. My body was still prone below him on the mattress, muscles too tired to be tensed, so this was as good a time as any for him to put it in me.

The head slid into me and my pussy made a wet, slurping noise, and we both gasped at the feeling. He was tense all over but was showing an astonishing amount of self control, reptilian eyes burning fiercely as he breathed out in harsh rasps. "Fuck, little one - you sure ya ain't a virgin?" he rasped out, and I couldn't tell if the question was meant to be serious or not, but I giggled anyway, which turned into another sharp intake of breath as he slid in a couple of centimeters more. If I had still been a virgin, trying to take in this monstrous cock would have broken me in half.

He continued sliding in slowly, very slowly, guiding my hips towards his almost like he was afraid to thrust forward. His eyes were trained on our conjoining genitals, watching rapt as my pussy swallowed his cock. What would happen if this man lost control? My mind was so clouded with pleasure at the moment that I honestly didn't care if he lost control and just pounded away, but knowing how vast our size difference was, the logical part of me wanted him to keep taking it as slow as possible. Even though he had stretched me out on his fingers it was still a tight fit; there was an ever so slight burn that I knew would fade over time. I was extremely thankful for the extra lubrication provided by him as well as the multiple climaxes - without any of that I knew this would have gone a lot harder/more difficult. I knew I would have been so tense that he might not have been able to enter me at all.

When the crown of his dick nudged against my cervix I gasped a little and he immediately paused in his movements. His hands were clamped around my waist so tight I knew I would have bruises there tomorrow, shading my skin in the shape of his huge palms and long fingers. He'd hit my body's natural stopping point and there was still more of his dick to go, but thankfully he didn't press any further. Instead, those yellow eyes flicked to mine and he asked, "You good?" And atop the mattress I nodded my head once again in answer and acknowledgement. I felt so full like I was ready to burst, but the sting was ebbing away, and I could feel every vein and ridge of his cock against my inner walls. I couldn't even make a sound, the feelings were so intense. And good.

Slowly he began to draw back, very slowly, almost torturously, and he pulled his hips back all the way until it was only the bulbous head of his member still inside of me. And right when I was about to make a noise of protest he began pushing back in, and I choked out a moan at the sheer size of him gliding into my wet channel. He was still going slowly, but gone was the burn, and it was replaced by sheer need; wet, throbbing, pulsing need. And the only one who could satisfy me was him. When the tip of him reached my inner stopping point once again he immediately began pulling back, and my breath went out in a whoosh of air, until he pushed back in, making me let out a needy whine. Now that there was no resistance he didn't have to go as slow anymore, and his pace picked up slightly. He could probably tell by the noises I was making that everything was more than okay, anyways. Every time he pushed himself back into me I saw stars.

"Oh Croc- Waylon!"

"Am I hurtin' ya, sweetheart?"

"N-No just please, k-keep going,"

"You got it; look at you, takin' me like a champ,"

His praise made the simmering heat in my belly turn into a molten flame, and with every thrust of his hips he stoked the fire within me. He still wasn't going as hard as I knew he probably could, but each thrust had my breasts bouncing on my chest. My god, I'd never felt so full. This type of pleasure was on another level. If he went any harder or deeper I knew I would see the head of his cock bulging against my lower belly. At the moment my vision was so hazy from all the stars and feelings he was making me experience that the only things my eyes could focus on were his two golden orbs floating somewhere above me, and his sharp teeth gleaming. He looked so deliciously frightening in the dim lighting of his abode, and I was once again reminded at who exactly was fucking me silly on top of his mattress.

"Fuck," Croc lowered his head, rounding his broad, scaly shoulders as his hips continued pumping in and out of me steadily, "I can't hold out much longer..." His huge hands began to dig his nails into my hips, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel good. The little pinpricks of pain made the pleasure between my legs all the more intense. It wasn't long before I was eagerly meeting his thrusts, chasing the inevitable, impending climax that I knew was coming, and fast.

I squeezed my legs around his hips and stretched my arms above my head, trying to push myself as far down on his cock as my body could go, arching my back to the sensation. "I'm close," I whined, and it was so close I could practically taste it.

Croc's thrusts became more pronounced then too, more punctuated and aimed to hit my spots. He removed one of those huge hands from my hips and slotted it between my legs as much as he could fit it to rub my clit, "Come on, little Kris, cum on my cock, milk me dry with this tight little pussy,"

His voice rasping out such explicit, dirty words was my undoing, combined with that scaly finger on my clit, and I was cumming hard, spiraling down the rabbit hole of pleasure, crying out his name, his real name. As soon as my walls clamped down around his member I felt it twitch violently inside me, and the hand that still remained on my hip flew off of me to dig his claws with surprising speed into the dingy mattress aside my head. He roared his release like the sound an actual crocodile would make when it was pissed beyond belief, and I felt his hot seed spill inside of me like lava. The fabric of the mattress material tearing beside my ear made just the right amount of fear liquify my bones, along with the explosive climax, and combined they made it the most intense feeling of pleasure I'd ever experienced.

His hips eventually slowed as did the flow of his own release inside of me, and my walls slowly ceased their pulsing around him, the thunderous rushing of blood in my ears ebbing with each heartbeat.

The last thing I remember seeing before passing out from pure exhaustion was his yellow eyes looking deep into mine. And then I succumbed to the throes of sleep; the quickest I'd ever fallen into slumber.

X.x

Hot. Why was it so hot?

I blinked my eyes open sleepily, my body damp with sweat, and my right side completely burning. I felt like I had fallen asleep in an oven. It was only when I looked up and saw the brick ceilings with the dim lighting, and felt movement on my right side that I remembered where I was.

Holy. Fuck.

The memories of however long ago came violently flooding back to me, and with flushed cheeks I slowly turned my gaze to my right to see a massive, green, scale covered body sidled up next to me atop the mattress. My eyes traveled up the impressive expanse of him - still naked, I noticed with my pulse picking up rapidly - and when I got to those yellow eyes I swore I felt my heartbeat falter. He'd already been looking at me, a calm, content expression on his face, leaning on one elbow and his head propped up off of the mattress while the other casually rested on my right hip.

I gave him a small smile, my face burning from the heat - which I now knew was coming from him - and from my own weirdness during social situations. I really hoped I didn't make this awkward; I'd never had a one night stand before. "Hi," I squeaked out, feeling my sore pussy muscles clench when his mouth quirked in a grin, and his reptilian eyes gleamed.

"Mornin'. How ya feelin' pretty one?"

"Um..." I went over the mental checklist of my body in my mind, trying to consider everything I was feeling at the moment: my legs felt stiff from having been held open so wide before while he'd been fucking me, my pussy was sore from his thick fingers and thicker cock that had stretched me and drilled into me, my hips were already bruised, I could tell, from him squeezing them and unintentionally cutting me with his claws. Plus I was covered in sweat, saliva, and cum. But goddamn, I'd never been so satisfied. "Sore," I admitted, and he let out a chuckle that twisted my insides deliciously, "but good. How about you?"

"No complaints here, little one." He punctuated this with a grin, showcasing those rows and rows of sharp teeth. I realized in this moment that I was not afraid of him - and honestly, I didn't know if I ever really had been. Of course, I'd been scared of what he could have done to me if he decided he wanted to make a snack out of me, but those thoughts no longer plagued my mind. I felt... content. Like I'd befriended someone and was getting to know them, only to find out that we had a lot more in common than we'd initially thought. Or like I was on a date that was going really well. It was hard to explain, but I felt good.

Then of course I thought about yucky adult responsibilities and let out a groan. "Do you know what time it is?" I asked him. I didn't want to ruin either one of our good moods by being the responsible one, but unfortunately my daily anxiety meant my mind was rarely ever at rest.

The large man next to me shrugged the shoulder he wasn't leaning on currently, and answered, "Still early, or late, whichever ya like. You've only been out a couple hours. Can't give ya an exact time, though - no clocks down here." He said it lightly, but instead of finding it humorous I once again found myself feeling empathy for him. They really did treat him like a monster down here.

I shook my head, looking up at the crumbling brick ceiling above us. "I'll get you a clock." I replied quietly. And a pillow, and a blanket, for gods sake.

"Aw, don't sweat, little one. You don't hafta bring me nothin' - don't trouble yourself."

I turned my gaze back on him, fixing him with a look; I'd already made up my mind. "It's no trouble; you deserve basic human amenities just like everyone else. I don't like these conditions you're living in - I didn't know if was this bad."

He smiled genuinely at me, not unkindly, and there was a glimmer of something in his eyes as he said, "It's no skin off my nose, little one. Better than being in a cell, that's for damn sure."

"But you don't even have a clock, you barely have a bed... do you even have a bathroom and a shower down here?" Did he really not see anything wrong with the way he'd been living? Had society really brainwashed him that much that he thought he didn't deserve any better?

Well, I would see to it that things changed for the better - whether he liked it or not.

"I make do," He shrugged once again, like it really was no big deal. "Plus, someone opens the hatch and throws soap down here every once in a while. Don't think they want me around the other inmates. 'Fraid I might do somethin'... violent." Here, he winked a yellow eye at me with a side grin. "That'd be like putting a bunch'a steaks in front of a starving mutt."

I rolled my eyes - I actually rolled my eyes at him, Killer Croc. I could see that I wasn't going to get anywhere tonight trying to get him to see things from my perspective, but I internally resolved that I wasn't going to let the issue go. Instead of arguing the point further, I simply told him, "Well, I'll at least bring you a small alarm clock. I've got a spare."

Here he grinned dangerously, fangs on full display. "Well, I definitely won't say no to seeing you again," Those golden eyes wandered slowly up and down my naked form, and I shivered under his gaze. I definitely wouldn't say no to seeing him again, either, that was for sure.

Unfortunately, though, I knew I had to get going. I didn't want to run into the morning cleaning staff when getting my things out of the office, especially not in the state I was in. I knew it would only lead to questions. And since I didn't know the exact time, I figured it was probably better to go sooner rather than later... though I really didn't want to.

I looked up at Croc, laying next to him on the mattress, and told him, "I should probably go..."

Disappointment flashed in his golden gaze, but he didn't argue the point. I hoped he knew that I wasn't leaving because of him, so I quickly added sternly, "But I'll be back with that clock."

His face lit with a grin, reptilian eyes gleaming with genuine joy, "You can come back anytime. Don't hafta bring me nothin', either; just your pretty little self." I could tell he was trying to sound casual, as was I, but my heart was beating furiously in my chest in a way that was anything but. And there was no mistaking the way his whole visage had lit up when I'd told him I would be back. He wanted to see me again - and I wanted to see him again, too.

Following what I'd said a few moments ago, Croc slowly pushed himself up off of the mattress with another glance at my naked form, and said, "Lemme get'cha those clothes." When he rose up off of the bed I, of course, also had to study his naked body. It was like if Adonis had scales and was over eight feet tall. I forced myself to look away from his tight ass and tried to pay attention to other things. If I got turned on again, I'd never leave. My brain told me this would not necessarily be a bad thing, and I readily agreed, but also I didn't want to be reported missing, and possibly get both of us in trouble if I was found down here with him.

While he walked over to a small nightstand a few feet away (at the very least they gave him that), crouching down in front of it to open a drawer, my eyes wandered down in front of me to see what the state of my body was like after the most amazing sex of my life. And it was then that I saw something I hadn't even realized the whole time I'd been on the bed, and especially not in the throes of passion: I still had my shoes on.

I snickered quietly as my black and white converse stared back at me. I guessed I'd been too distracted to remember to take them off.

"Whatcha laughin' at, little one?" Croc asked with amusement. I turned my head and saw him walking back towards me where I lay on the mattress, and also noticed to my internal disappointment that he had put his own pants back on.

Smiling up at his amused expression I told him, "I, uh, forgot to take off my shoes during... while we were, um..." The thought of what we'd done, and what had been done to me, flustered me. Not in a bad way, but enough that I couldn't finish my sentence and it dissolved into the air.

Croc chuckled lowly, which made me want to clench my thighs together, and he replied, "Think your mind was preoccupied with other things." He said this while his eyes traveled up the expanse of my nude form, and when they reached mine he flashed me a wink once more. I ducked my head in embarrassment, smiling widely as my cheeks flushed, and he laughed quietly. Then he stepped closer to the mattress and leaned down to hand me the presumed item of clothing he was holding, which I noticed was the same color orange as the pants he wore. "Don't think the other pants I have will fit ya, but this should be long enough on ya to cover the goods."

I unfolded the item of clothing and saw that it was a long sleeved orange t-shirt - Arkham issued, of course - and it would indeed be long enough to be a literal dress on me. I looked up at him and smiled in gratitude. "Thanks, I'll wash it and bring it back to you."

He easily returned my smile, and huffed with a bemused shake of his head, "You're somethin' else, little Kris."

His tone and words sent warm tingles throughout my whole body as I sat up on the mattress, and I pulled the material over my head, partially to hide the blush I knew was on my face. When I had his shirt on and comfortably situated, I smoothed back my hair as best as I could, which was a task and a half even though it only fell to just below my shoulders. I took the hair tie that was thankfully still on my wrist and tied back my black locks so they hopefully didn't look too crazy. So maybe it wouldn't look like I'd just had the best sex of my life and was now trying to inconspicuously sneak out - which was absolutely the case. Plus, to top it all off, I would now be walking out of here wearing his clothes.

Once I was ready, Croc reached out a hand to help me up and I took it gratefully, once again putting my hand in his like I had done not just a few hours earlier while we had made our deal. He helped pull me up off of the mattress on the ground, and I hadn't realized how much I would be relying on his strength until I was actually standing. Immediately my legs were incredibly wobbly, like a fawn taking its first steps, and I had to hold onto him and his big body with both of my hands. The tender area between my thighs was still sticky, but thankfully none of it ran down my legs. Since I didn't have any underwear on, that was something I would've been kind of self conscious about since I now had to go upstairs to get my stuff so I could go home. I really didn't need, and neither did he, both of our combined DNA dripping out of me and onto the floor - that would surely be something no one else needed to discover, for both of our safety.

"You gonna be okay?" he asked me, both of his hands holding onto my waist to insure that I didn't fall over.

"I think so," I blushed sheepishly once again at the thought of why my legs were so wobbly. The twenty minute drive home was sure to be fun, I thought to myself. Not. I looked both ways, wondering how exactly I was going to be getting out of here. Earlier he'd mentioned something about a back exit. And I wondered: if he knew about a back exit, what was stopping him from escaping out said exit?

Before I could ask him, he had noticed me looking around and gestured with his head down the tunnel beyond his 'room' area - the one we hadn't come down on the way here. "Down that way, not too far," he grunted. He led me over to the edge of the thick slab of brick we were standing on, then hoisted me up into his arms once again, explaining, "Gonna hafta get back in the water, though - hold tight, pretty one."

I smiled to myself against his chest, thinking of the first time he'd said that to me this evening. He then leapt us into the gently running water and held my body tightly to his to keep me from slipping out of his grip, and I wrapped my arms around his neck for the same reason. Also, I couldn't resist.

As we began the trek down the dim tunnel of the old sewers once more this evening, Croc asked me suddenly, "So, what were you doin' here so late, anyways?"

I realized then that he probably had no idea what I actually did at the asylum. It was clear to him that I worked here, but he didn't necessarily know which department. "Working late; I work in the clerks office to do paperwork and stuff like that, and I volunteered to do some overtime tonight." When I'd come to be in his abode it had been around eight pm. Normally my shift ended at four-thirty, but I'd volunteered to stay until eight to help catch up on some extra work. Before I'd left for the night, I'd stepped out of the office to use the bathroom before my drive home, and, well, that was when I'd been ambushed by the guards and orderlies. Little did they know, they'd done me a favor, it seemed - for myself and for my scaly companion.

He nodded, taking in that information as he continued walking us down the watery tunnel, walking a lot slower than he had before, when he'd been taking us to his 'room' area to complete our deal. Almost as if he was reluctant for me to leave... "Well, as much as I wanna tear every one of those idiots to pieces for doing what they did to you, I can't say that I'm upset that you stumbled on in here tonight. Quite the opposite, in fact."

I smiled at his words, and quietly replied, "Same here." His yellow eyes flicked down to look at me, and while he didn't respond verbally I could see that same intensity as I had many times this evening, brewing behind his gaze. Intensity and warmth.

After a few more moments of comfortable silence we reached the end of the tunnel, which came out to a circle shaped opening where water was draining out into a small waterfall down a concrete siding into the lake surrounding the island. There were thick vertical bars going across the exit, and they looked to be spaced just far enough apart that I could squeeze through them. Along the sides of the tunnel there were very narrow walkways, and both led up to the opening right to the bars. Croc brought me up to the siding on the left and gently set me on my feet, and gestured towards the exit, "This comes out right below the parking lot."

That worked out perfectly. I felt relief in knowing that I wouldn't be stumbling around Arkham island in the dark right next to the lake, with nothing but Croc's oversized shirt and my shoes on. I at least knew where I was. And from the parking lot I could get back into my building, retrieve my stuff, and finally go home.

I turned to Croc, wondering what I should even say to him. Thanks for the amazing sex? Thanks for not murdering me? See you later? What does one even say in a situation like this?

I took a moment to think, looking him up and down, my eyes going back to his yellow gaze as they always seemed to be drawn there. Then I said, "I'll be back with that clock, and," I added, hoping this would sound flirty like it did in my mind and not come off as desperate, "I'm prepared to make another deal for it."

Like I'd hoped he would, he gave me a grin and a huff of laughter, which sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. He returned with, "Well in that case, I hope to be seein' ya real soon." And he finished with a wink.

I smiled back at him, cheeks hot, and told him genuinely, "Then it's a done deal. Thank you for tonight... See you around, Waylon."

Before I could talk myself out of it and convince myself to stay longer, I turned and slipped through the old metal bars, careful not to step in the running water with my shoes on, stepped out onto the grass alongside the flat cement drainage ditch. Before I began walking up the hill towards the parking lot, I gave him one last look into the darkness of the tunnel, just barely able to see his outline and those eyes illuminated by the moonlight from outside. Then I turned and headed up the hill, and the whole time, my cheeks hurt from how big I was smiling. Done deal, indeed.

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

AN: I do not own the Batman: Arkham Asylum franchise or any of it's characters, but Kris is my own OC.

also, some songs i listened to (on repeat) while writing this~: EAT ME - Demi Lovato feat. Royal & the Serpent (naturally) Perfect Lover - Britney Spears (don't ask plz lol) Get Naked (I Got a Plan) - Britney Spears Doomsayer - Hatebreed Break the Ice - Britney Spears You Don't Own Me - SAYGRACE feat. G-Eazy Gimme More - Britney Spears Come Together - Demi Lovato Gangsta - Kehlani

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hunterssm00n · 4 months

Text

Sleepwalking

Yandere! Sheriff OC / part 3 /

Try to lock you out / I feel you in my dreams / You're everywhere, you won't go easily...

*cw include stalking, yandere behavior, abuse of authority, obsession, and dark themes* MDNI - 18+

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

It’s just past ten when she hears the crunching of tires on the ice and gravel coming up her driveway.

She’s laying in her bed, lights off, looking at her phone, when she feels the hair on the back of her neck raise. He’s earlier tonight than usual; normally it’s after eleven or even after midnight before she hears those familiar noises. She’s also in bed earlier than normal tonight, but that’s because she’s super exhausted after a long, grueling week. Tomorrow is Friday, and by the time that fifth day of work rolls around she’s lucky to get up to the sound of her alarm the next morning.

It makes her wonder if he came here earlier than normal tonight with the hopes of catching her while she was awake.

That thought gives her shivers.

And what would happen if he did? If he saw the lights on in her home, would he take that as an invitation to come and knock on the door? Would he try to call her, like he has been? Leave her another very loving sounding, emotionally charged voicemail?

Kelli has played the last few over and over again. She has them all saved in her phone- for multiple reasons. One being that if this situation ever turned deadly, she would have plenty of evidence to build a case against him. The other reason being that she enjoys listening to his voice as he says such soft, loving things to her, and about her.

So what does that make her? As crazy as him? Surely not.

Ray is a handsome man. Maybe not handsome in the traditional sense, but in the way that he’s exactly her type. Well over six feet tall, big and burly, rugged and intimidating looking, a scar on his cheek; physically he’s very appealing to her. And behind the rough exterior, he’s got sky blue eyes that just seem so deep; so knowing.

Am I attracted to my stalker? Maybe. Hard maybe. But does that make what he’s doing in any way right? No. Absolutely not.

He’s abusing his authority as sheriff to look up Kelli’s address (as she definitely did not give it to him), come to her house, and stake out every night. When he calls, he’s begged her to call him back; he wants to hear her voice, he says. He wants to reassure her that he means no harm.

But can she trust him?

He hasn't done anything to make Kelli think that he intends to do her any harm... yet. In fact, it's been quite the opposite; he's done everything possible to make sure she’s safe. Or... to make sure she’s not going to run. He parks outside of her house every night- god only knows if he ever even sleeps. And every hour on the hour he gets out of his suburban, and walks the perimeter of the house, shining his flashlight and, seemingly, looking for any signs of trouble.

And here she thought she was paranoid. Her paranoia apparently doesn't hold a candle to this man's.

But in a way, this overprotectiveness makes her feel... something. She can't quite put her finger on the thought, or the emotion exactly. But it's surprising. And, of course, he doesn't need to know this.

And despite the fact that what he’s doing is wrong, it doesn’t make him any less appealing to her twisted brain. Quite the opposite. She should be scared; she should want to move states, go into WitSec, something that would get her away from him. But there’s no denying (to herself, at least) that she purposefully is not doing any of that for a reason. Plus, he would find her wherever she went. He’d track her down, just like he’d tracked her to her house.

Kelli can’t help but think about what he would do if he were inside right now- she imagined the scenario; how he would look standing in her doorway, how his big body would take up so much space it would make her house look tiny. The thought makes her shiver unintentionally, but not for bad reasons.

He would stare straight into her soul as she sat up in bed, surprised at his entry into her bedroom, and into her house in general. Wondering how he got inside, but also wondering what was going to happen now that he was.

“Ray?” she would ask, her voice coming out breathless and nervous- as she wouldn’t be expecting him to actually be inside the house, here, with her. At night, in her bedroom.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” He would sound breathless, like he’d been running. Or, doing something else. “I couldn’t- I had to come see you. I had to make sure…”

Her other questions would be forgotten momentarily as he would advance towards the bed, and she wouldn’t even realize she’d shrank backwards until she hit the headboard, and it thumped against the wall.

“It’s okay,” He’d pause in his movements, hands outstretched to show that he’s okay, she’s okay, everything is okay. “I’m not gonna hurt you, I’m so sorry for scaring you, and- and for breaking in here.” He would look down at the floor after he says this, and she would be able to practically sense the shame coming from him. Practically be able to feel it. “I know it’s not right, what I'm doing- I know I shouldn't be here... But I can’t help it. I want you- I need you.”

The thought of this scenario makes her pussy pulse between her thighs, and it’s then that she realizes how wet she is. And not for the first time when thinking about him, either.

She hears his footsteps outside, gentle in the freshly fallen snow, and before she can think better of it Kelli slides her right hand down her stomach, and into the waistband of her pajama pants. Her fingers slide down the front of her underwear, down, down, until they get to the soft, warm area right above her clit. They pause there for the barest moment before continuing their journey, passing over her clit and to her wet panties, soaked by her pussy lips. A choked moan catches in her throat- surprised by how wet she already is and by how good that simple touch feels.

Working her hand back and forth slowly, she listens to the sound of him walking around her house, his footsteps almost adding to her steadily increasing heartbeat. It feels good- too good. It should not feel this good touching herself to the thought of her stalker breaking into her house; to the sound of him walking around outside. Knowing he’s there, feeling his presence, it’s too much.

Before long she's cumming by merely touching herself through her panties, her other hand covering her mouth so she doesn't make any discernable sounds as the pleasure crashes through her. All the while thinking This is wrong, this is so wrong.

Coming down from her high, she relaxes back against the bed, breathing hard against the comfort of her soft mattress. Still hearing him outside of the house, she decides to chalk this one up to having not been in a relationship for a while; being untouched for so long. Because the fact that she just touched herself to the thought of her stalker is a little too much to come to terms with, at the moment.

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

This is an original work of mine, as are the characters.

I do not own the song 'Sleepwalking' by Diamante. The above picture is from pinterest, and there's a link attached to the original post.

#soft yandere #my drabbles #my work #my writing #mine**#yandere sheriff #yandere cop #hunterssm00n #yande.re #yandere oc #stalker oc #stalker aesthetic #stalker cop #stalker sheriff #obsessive love

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hunterssm00n · 5 months

Text

Three Minutes

Same as before, now from Tommy's POV. | Tommy Hewitt/OC |

full (ish) story is on my AO3: here

and some other shorts/drabbles on the same story/characters: here

*cw smutty situations* MDNI - 18+

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

So baby, I'll take whatever it is you've got to give / Yeah I'm calling dibs

As soon as the hall light winked out under the door, Tommy glanced at his clock and began the countdown until he knew he would hear the pitter patter of her feet coming down the hallway towards his room.

Trying to relax, or rather, to calm himself in advance, he laid his head back on the pillow and took a couple of deep breaths. She might stop her little midnight treks to his room if he pounced on her when she first came through the door. He didn't want her to stop coming in at all - his favorite parts of the day were the moments he got to spend with her. And what they'd been doing in his room at night... He shuddered just thinking about it. He didn't want that to stop either.

Tommy glanced over at the clock on the nightstand next to his bed: 10:16pm. Only two minutes had gone by. Damn.

Every creak that the old house made he thought was her sneaking down early to see him. And at every one of those little noises, his body would tense, like he was ready to jump up off the bed and tackle her should she step into the room. It was like an animalistic urge. Tommy didn't think she would mind too much if he gave in to the urge, but at the same time, he didn't want to scare her enough that she would want to stop visiting him at night. He was much bigger and much stronger than her; he could easily overpower her if he wanted. He didn't want to make her afraid of him... There was definitely nothing frightening about what he wanted to do to her.

Shifting, Tommy glanced at the clock again: 10:18. Almost there, come on.

He thought about last night, and what they had done to each other. The memory was so visceral, he could practically feel her hands on him, stroking and touching every inch of him. He could practically feel her breath on his face, smell her sweet scent all around him. His hands gripped the sheets on either side of his body. When she'd grabbed him there, he thought he was either gonna explode, or lose control. That had been shocking to him - something he totally hadn't expected. Not at that exact moment, at least. He, much like her, was also a virgin. He'd never even kissed anyone until her; and now he never wanted to kiss anyone else, either.

He loved having her in his bed; messing up the sheets, messing up each other's clothes, kissing each other, touching each other, just laying there doing absolutely nothing - it didn't matter what they did together; only the fact that they were together mattered. Thinking about last night, Tommy could see himself forming an addiction to what they had done, and to what else they could do from there.

They'd been kissing hungrily, gripping each others backs, faces, necks, hands... anything they could grab onto. At at particularly gentle kiss from her, followed by her lightly sucking on his bottom lip, he'd felt a surge of a lustful, animalistic sensation. With a growl, he rolled her onto her back, his hands sliding underneath her body to hold her close. He gently bit her neck, relishing in her whimpering in his ear, and the feel of her gripping his back... and then there was a hand on him. Tommy jumped in surprise, like an electrical current had gone through his whole body. He'd thought his pants couldn't' feel any tighter, but then they did. He'd looked at her in surprise, and he noticed that she was also looking at him with the same mirrored emotion. Instinctively, she had grabbed him - his 'Johnson', as Uncle Hoyt crudely called it - in this midst of their kissing, and for a moment she looked like she didn't know what to do. Tommy knew that there was absolutely nothing she could do wrong. Not to him. He could sense her insecurity, and he pushed himself further into her hands. He wanted her to know that no matter what she did, he would enjoy it. Everything she did enamored him completely. There was nothing she could do wrong in his eyes. Her admission of never having done this before did not make him any less sure of her abilities. If anything, it got him even hotter. He was going to be her first just as much as she was going to be his. Perfect didn't even begin to describe this.

Slowly, they had stripped off each other's clothes, touching everywhere they could reach, and kissing all the time. He wanted her so badly; he knew she could see his desperation. He'd never held anything so beautiful, so perfect. She was everything to him. Experimental touches and caresses led to moans and giggles that they both tried to keep down. Tommy knew Momma and Uncle Hoyt probably wouldn't mind too much that they were doing this, but he still wanted to keep it a secret, at least for now. Plus, it was more fun sneaking around in the dark. He'd never experienced anything like this before, and it made his large palms sweat and his heart pound hard in his chest. And, other things hard as well.

She'd stroked him up and down, using both of her hands, and his head bowed down to rest on her shoulder, feeling himself grow closer and closer to release. He hadn't known anything could feel this good, and if he wasn't so turned on he would've been embarrassed by where his thoughts were going. What else could feel this good, maybe even better? Being inside her... how would that feel? Better than her hands? Was that even possible?

"Tommy? Does this feel okay? I hope you like it..."

Damn. Her voice whispering in his ear would've finished him if her hands hadn't been about to do it first. Just when he'd been on the edge; the sweet precipice before the freefall, he quickly sat up and grasped her tiny wrists between his massive hands, halting her movements. He hadn't wanted to be done yet. Not before he made her feel good. He had raised her arms above her head and leaned down to kiss her gently on the lips, soothing the confusion in her eyes. It had felt so good, too good. He had to stop her before she made him crash over the edge too soon.

Now it was his turn to give her the same feeling.

He touched her everywhere, all over her sacred, perfect body, soft skin feeling like velvet against his calloused fingers. Tommy had hoped he would be able to please her - all he wanted was to make her happy, to make her feel good like she did to him. He, himself, had almost creamed his pants at the sound of her sweet orgasm, her pitiful noises driving him crazy to the point where for a moment, he thought he was going to lose control and just take her right there. It was actually easier to please her than he thought it would be, much to his relief. It was because of his normal attentiveness to her that he was able to please her, as he was used to carefully watching her face to see her expressions; what made her happy, what made her laugh, what made her look at him like he was the best thing she'd ever laid eyes on. Now it was similar, but slightly different: he watched her face to see what made her sigh, what made her gasp, what made her moan though she tried to muffle the noise into the pillow her head leaned back on. He wished she didn't have to be quiet - he wanted to hear all of her noises. Especially since he was causing them.

He had been about ready to blow by the time she'd put her hands back on him; listening to her and watching her writhe underneath him had really done him in. He was so riled up, it didn't take much for her to finish him off. So much came out of him; much more than when he used his own hand (thinking about her, of course). He'd emptied himself on her chest and stomach, white, thick creaminess coating practically her entire front. She knew exactly how to touch him; much like he did with her, she paid very careful attention to him. It warmed his heart to know that she cared so much about him, just like he cared for her. If he hadn't been so satisfied, and exhausted, he would've been embarrassed at the amount of his liquid on her, but he couldn't bring himself to care in that moment. Mostly because he could tell that she didn't mind; if anything, she'd looked very pleased with herself for bringing forth such a reaction from him. God, he loved her.

Hefting an impatient sigh and pulling himself from his daydream, Tommy looked over at the clock once again - it had to be time by now, right? Just as he glanced at the clock face, his door very slowly creaked open. He gripped onto the sheets on either side of him, as though he were physically holding himself down to the bed to keep from jumping up and running to her. He didn't think he could wait another second. Her beautiful face appeared, and the breath was nearly all expelled from his lungs when she smiled at him. Quietly, she tiptoed into the room and closed the door behind her, never taking her eyes off of him. He could see her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, much like his own was as well. "Hi, Tommy," she whispered. He sat up in the bed, beckoning for her to come to him with his large hands. He wanted to feel her so badly.

She was wearing a robe, and smiling slyly at him, she untied the front deliberately, and pulled the robe open to reveal nothing underneath. Tommy could feel his jaw drop, and his brain fizzle for a moment before raw lust immediately took over, and he had to really hold himself back from jumping up now. What was she doing to him?!

Playfully, she licked her lips at him, and let the robe fall to the floor. "You ready, big boy?" God, was he ever.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

AN: I do not own the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise or any of it's characters, but Renae is my own OC. I also do not own the song 'Dibs' by Kelsea Ballerini.

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hunterssm00n · 4 months

Text

Paranoia

Yandere! Sheriff OC

A little bit older / A black leather jacket / A bad reputation / Insatiable habits / He was onto me, one look and I couldn't breathe...

*cw include stalking, yandere behavior, abuse of authority, obsession, and dark themes* MDNI - 18+

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

It’s below twenty this morning; cold, but beautiful. The sun rising over the hills reflects off of the ice that covers nearly every surface outside. The light makes everything look like it’s sparkling- like the inside of a winter wonderland snow globe. Kelli, unlike most people who live around here, loves the winter, so this weather doesn’t bother her. Quite the opposite; she looks forward to this season every year. She thinks the snow is magical.

The snow is also all-telling.

Footprints are easily visible in the white flakes on the ground. You can see where someone has been, where they’ve stepped, if they’ve walked around your house, around your car, to your bedroom window to peer inside.

Maybe most people don’t think about it that way. Maybe most people aren’t paranoid like her. But then again, maybe most people don’t have a reason to be, like she does.

She notices the second set of tire tracks immediately, upon walking out her front door. She knows he’s been here; he’s here every night. During the night she thought she’d heard his vehicle outside; the low idle of the engine almost like comforting white noise in the background. She’d been too exhausted to really react- her new job quickly taking its toll on her daily life. Working in a warehouse makes her ready for bed by eight thirty every night like an old lady, and once she’s asleep she sleeps like a rock. But the thought had been in the back of her mind nonetheless: He’s here. He’s watching.

Kelli checks, and the double check the lock on my front door, turning the door handle about ten times before she’s comfortable walking down the steps towards her car. The second thing she notices is the footprints. She sees them leading from the tire tracks to her front steps, pausing there, and then walking sharply to the left. She knows if she looks at them more closely, and follows their trail, that they’ll lead to every window, pausing there as well. And the back door. And the basement window. If she looks extra closely, she may even see gloved handprints on the window sills, gently having rested there the night before, mere hours ago. The thought gives her shivers, and it isn’t from the cold. She walks quickly towards her car, paying close attention to her surroundings all the while. The thought that he may still be here somewhere, watching, always watching, makes her spine tingle and the hair on the back of her neck raise.

She doesn’t know exactly how this started; what she did to capture his attention. And, evidently, his obsession. She goes to work, the store, the coffee shop, and barely anywhere else. Most of the time she hides away in her little house, the only place she feels like she can truly breathe a sigh of relief. But somehow she's piqued his interest, and he’s been following her ever since.

This has been going on for a few weeks now- enough for it to become part of her routine. She’ll be in her home at night, winding down from the day, and she’ll see lights appear at the end of her driveway. Sometimes they don’t come all the way down; they sit for a few minutes before reversing and driving away. But Kelli always knows that they’ll be back, at some point. While she's lying in bed, sometimes before she falls asleep, she’ll hear the crunching of snow and gravel under tires as the car approaches. If she's already asleep, sometimes she'll wake up briefly, by some sort of sixth sense maybe, letting her know that she is not alone here; that there’s someone outside. The beams of light sweeping over her curtains before going out look like that of a passing vehicle on the road, but her driveway is long, so the house is not right next to the road itself. Instead it's tucked a little ways back into the trees; perfect for her to hide. And, evidently, perfect for someone else to hide, too.

He hasn’t gone any further than parking in the driveway and walking around her small house, peering in the windows. But she wonders how long it will stay that way. How long before he gets a hold of her house key, and makes a copy? How long before he decides to see if one of the windows will open, so he can slide in? The answer to that, is that even after two weeks, things have been steadily escalating. And it's not like she can call the police. They'd laugh her right off the phone if she told them that it's their sheriff who is stalking her.

His name is Sheriff Ray Donnovan; mid forties, law enforcer of this small town, and her stalker.

Even when she tries to tell someone, they’ve all just chalked it up to him being ‘a good cop’; ‘looking out for his town’. Plus, your house is on the main road anyways; he’s probably just parking in your driveway to watch for late night speeders. They overlook the fact that the sheriff doesn’t normally work nights; being of a higher rank, wouldn’t he pick a better shift than the graveyard one? And why, if he’s been working all day, is he parking in Kelli's driveway like a traffic cop trying to meet his monthly quota? Doesn’t the sheriff have better things to do? Also, wouldn’t he first ask to use her driveway if he was going to be hiding there to catch unsuspecting drivers in the wee hours of the morning?

She knows better. A good cop doesn’t come to someone’s house at night while they’re asleep (or while he thinks they’re asleep), and park outside in their driveway all night. A good cop doesn’t memorize someone’s schedule so that he happens to run into them in random places, multiple times a week. A good cop doesn’t walk the perimeter of someone’s house every night, without being asked, to look in their windows and try to find weak points of entry.

You’re just being paranoid, they tell her. He’s a good guy; he’s an upstanding citizen. He’s the sheriff, for chrissake.

She shakes her head to clear the swirling thoughts, and open her car door. Being late to work won’t fix anything.

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

This is an original work of mine, as are the characters.

I do not own the song ‘My Oh My’ by Camilla Cabello. The above picture is from pinterest and there’s a link attached to the original post.

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hunterssm00n · 5 months

Text

Natural Born Sinner

The Comedian has addictions too, and they include more than just cigars and violence. | Eddie Blake/OC |

part 1 of 3

also on ao3: here

*cw include dubcon smut, obsessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, degradation, stalking, emotional/psychological abuse, misogyny, name-calling, breaking and entering, past abuse, dark themes*

౨ৎ

He lifted up Himself and said unto them "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her."

The day had crawled by, and the commute home had crawled even more. All she wanted after a long work week was to be holed up in her apartment with a book, something hot to drink and a warm bubble bath. Maybe that's what she would do tonight - she thought of this as she exited the bus at the stop on the corner. She waved at the driver as she walked down the stairs through the open doors, and he'd crooned at her to have a nice weekend, Michelle.

It was still raining, like it had been the whole day - lately, that seemed to be the only thing Mother Nature wanted to do. Maybe she was sad, Michelle pondered as she crossed the first of three blocks that would lead to her apartment. She didn't have her umbrella with her - it sat idly next to her swivel chair in her cubicle at work, probably still damp from this morning. That was okay though, she didn't mind the rain. And it wasn't like she'd be seeing anyone else tonight anyways. This rain would no doubt frizz her hair in some ungodly way. If it wasn't so damn cold outside - mid October in the city was not at all it was cracked up to be - she probably would have even considered jumping in the puddles. But she didn't. She probably would've ruined her heels, which would've been a big upset.

As she neared her apartment complex entrance, she reached into her pocket to fish around for her front door key. Tiptoeing up the steps to the door in her black high heels, she noted that the lock had been broken. Hmm, no use for the key then. Swinging her long black hair over one shoulder, she simply pushed the door open and stepped inside, attempting to close it behind her to the best of her ability. This was not uncommon - happened all the time. She thought nothing of it as she unzipped her coat, shaking it off during her trek up the stairs to her tiny apartment. Rounding the corner to the right, she did, however, think it was odd that her door was open.

This meant one of two things. Someone was robbing her place, or he was there.

"Shit," she stated. Her unladylike mouth tended to get her in trouble more often than not, but she knew that if he was actually in her apartment then he would be very amused by it. Slowly, she crossed the short span of floor to her front door. She noted that the lock was not broken, the door was merely propped open. Even slower, she reached out and pushed the door open, waiting to see what awaited her inside of her apartment.

Nothing.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Her apartment was the same as it always was; a little messy, smelled a bit like the candle she'd accidentally left burning all last night. No lights on, so she couldn't be sure someone wasn't hiding in the shadows. However, she was sure that he wasn't there, because if he was, he wouldn't be hiding from her. He'd probably be sitting right in her favorite chair in front of the TV, smoking a cigar, one ankle propped up on his knee as he waited for her to come home.

In fact, the only difference she noted was the faint trace of that cigar smoke in the air. The further she walked in, turning on lights as she went, the more she could smell it. She glanced back at the door warily, eyes roving for anything that could have been out of the ordinary. Had he been here? She didn't smoke, so it wasn't a normal smell that was prevalent in her space... Unless he showed up, of course. Then the smell overtook everything. However, no one was there, she concluded. She'd gone through every room, turned on every light, and there was no other trace of anyone having been there. If he had been here, he was gone now.

Michelle allowed herself to relax for the first time since she got home, sure that she was alone in here. She went over to her front door and made sure it was locked - maybe she'd not locked it properly when she left for work in the morning. Doubt clouded her mind at that thought - she always made sure the door was locked completely when she left her place. Don't worry, there's no one here. She let that thought settle in her mind, trying to let it comfort her. Maybe she was just imagining the smell in the air as well; maybe the thought of him was playing tricks on her like a ghost.

After unloading herself - taking her coat off and hanging her purse up on the coat rack, toeing her shoes off - she immediately went into the bathroom to start drawing herself a bath. That was her goal for this evening: absolute relaxation.

Once the water had run warm and filled up the tub, she added a lavender smelling liquid soap to it and stripped off her clothes, eager to jump into the nice smelling concoction. She pinned up her long hair, thinking how sad it was that she was excited to sit here and soak for the remainder of the evening. But, she needed to majorly de-stress, and this was the best way to do it.

She stepped into the soapy water, sinking down into it with a sigh. Leaning her head back against the porcelain edge of the tub, she closed her eyes for the first time all day.

Not even a minute had passed when she heard a noise from outside her front door. Footsteps, heavy ones. She opened one eye, listening hard. It was probably someone passing by to get to another apartment. From her bathroom she had a direct view to the entrance to her apartment. Since she lived alone, she never bothered closing the bathroom door. She noted a shadow underneath the door from the hallway that wasn't moving - somebody was definitely outside her door, hovering there.

Michelle had seen enough movies to know that she was no way in hell going to call out. That was a sure-fire way to get murdered. She waited in the tub to see if they would leave. The shadow shifted once, followed by a metal clanking noise. It took her a moment to realize that whomever it was was attempting to pick the lock. Now the panic started to set in. Did they know someone was in here? Did they care?

She thought of the smell of the cigar smoke from earlier. Was he outside the door right now, picking the lock? She rose up from out of the water, the soapy suds dribbling down her naked body. She reached for the towel hanging on the rack bolted to the wall next to the tub, wrapping it around herself while stepping out of the water. The clanking from the front door continued, and she quickly cut through the door that led to the bathroom, heading for the kitchen. Her thought was on the giant breadknife that lay dormant in her kitchen cabinet - if she could get to that at least she'd have something.

Halfway there, her door swung open, and instead of freezing in her tracks she took off in a run towards the dark kitchen to her left. She heard the door slam and footsteps thunder towards her just as she slipped into the kitchen. Quick as lightning, she yanked the drawer open and grabbed the massive breadknife, whipping around to point it towards her assailant just as they were about to grab her.

Much to her (non) surprise, he stood behind her. The Comedian himself, Edward Blake. He gave a huff of amusement at the sight of her holding the knife, pointed right at him. "Baby, if I knew this was gonna be the welcoming committee, I woulda come a helluva lot sooner," He winked at her with one of his grins that could put city lights to shame. His problem was that he was handsome, and he knew it. Many a woman had fallen for that smile, those eyes that could stare right through you; he was the very definition of tall, dark and handsome. The devil in disguise. Many a woman, including her.

The difference here was that while she'd fallen for that charm, she wasn't stupid enough to believe him and put up with his shit. She knew the kind of man he was, which was why she tried to avoid him at all costs.

It was a lot harder to avoid him, though, when he did things like this - this wasn't the first time he'd broken into her apartment, unannounced. It just had been a while; a few months. The last time she'd seen him was about three weeks ago (not that long), and it hadn't been in her apartment. Then, he'd visited her at work... after hours, and hadn't let her leave until he'd gotten what he'd wanted.

Still standing with a tense posture, she did lower the knife, but didn't put it down on the counter, "Eddie, you're not supposed to be here."

"Says who?" He eyed her up and down, noting how she was still dripping wet from leaping out of her warm bath at the speed of light. There was a puddle pooling on the cracked kitchen floor by her feet - the rapidly cooling water was now touching her toes as the slope of the floor caused the liquid to roll towards her bare feet.

She could not deny, though she knew how wrong this was, that she felt a twinge of excitement upon seeing him. And she knew how wrong it was, completely and wholly. She always wished Eddie was a better man - if he had been, she could honestly say she would have had no problem with this. Hell, she probably would've gotten down on one knee and proposed to him.

"Says me," Now she did put the knife down on the counter behind her, crossing her arms at him, "I told you not to come here."

"Yeah," he sighed, taking his heavy swaggering steps towards her, one hand reaching up to stroke the scruff on his chin, "But we both know you didn't mean it."

She made herself stand her ground as he came near - it took all of her strength to keep her feet planted on the ground. "I did mean it, and I mean it right now when I say: Get out." He stopped uncomfortably close to her - she could feel the heat radiating off of his large body, smell the musk coming from him as he towered over her. There was tension in the air as he looked down at her, pondering her statement with a smirk. His eyes were dark and smoldering beneath the mask covering them; the mask did nothing to diminish their devious intensity. "You can't push me around."

He chuckled, like this was funny. "Sure I can," He grabbed onto her damp, bare shoulders and pushed her back against the counter. Her lower back hit it firmly enough to startle her. If this was any other situation with him - if he was actually a good man, she could have stood to play this game with him. But she couldn't do this because it was him. He had to go now.

"Eddie," There was an edge to her voice, but it didn't come out as harsh as she wanted it to, "Don't," She pushed her hands against his chest, which was protected by the hard bullet proof vest that he wore with the rest of his costume. Her push, which was rather flimsy, she noted with annoyance, did nothing to him. She chalked it up to her being nervous - she knew what was going to happen, and she knew there was a point where she was going to stop protesting.

"Honey, I'm not gonna hurt'cha," He nuzzled his face into her hair, cradling her now so that her head was under his chin, her lips inches from his throat. She wanted to bite the skin of his neck, wanted to kiss it, lick it, tear into it with her teeth. She wouldn't let herself unwind from this rigid posture - she feared that if she did, the motions would all come back full force, and she would lost herself to this lust that he brought out of her.

"I just missed ya is all," Big, warm hands cradled her jaw, trying to lift her face so she would look at him, "C'mon baby girl,"

God, that voice was her undoing. Deep, hot drawl that poured out of him like molasses. She could feel the vibration of his chest against her hands, rumbling with each word he spoke. Oh, hell. She tried to keep her face away from his, but those calloused palms could be so strong yet so gentle at the same time. He managed to lift her face, tilting her head back with skill. She turned her cheek as he leaned in for a kiss, his scruffy beard grazing her cheek as did his lips. Undeterred, his mouth continued to kiss down to the crook of her neck, and she felt his tongue lap at droplets of water that still clung to her bare skin.

She balled her hands into fists against the hard covering on his chest, resisting the urge to wrap her arms around his waist. He kissed a warm trail down to her shoulder, having to lean down the farther he went. As if he'd been thinking that at the same time as she, he suddenly gripped his hands onto her towel clothed waist and hoisted her up to sit on the countertop behind her. This swift motion caused the top of her towel to unravel from her chest, leaving her exposed to the chilly air. Her nipples hardened in the coolness, and his administrations were not helping as he stood between her legs and trapped her there, hands stroking her thighs and mouth working all over her neck and shoulders. She did let out a moan, a quiet one that escaped her throat, when he knelt down so his mouth could reach her exposed breasts. The heat between her legs was molten with desire, burning hot with want that she knew wasn't going to go away. She banged her head back against the cabinet on the wall behind her when he tugged on a nipple with his teeth. She didn't even realize her hands were in his hair until he hissed at a particularly hard pull, and she tilted her head to look down at him.

"Not that I don't enjoy the fight you put up, but," Those large hands fumbled with untying the rest of the towel and getting it off of her, "I don't know why y'even bother when you know you're just gonna wind up on your back begging me Eddie, Eddie please-"

With a glare and a surge of energy, she shoved at his chest with her feet, pushing him back away from her. He landed on his back with a massive thud that shook her entire kitchen, pots and pans rattling in their cabinets and under the stove. Jumping down from the counter top, she clutched at the towel in her hands, bringing it up to cover her chest once more. She reached back and snatched the knife up off the counter, pointing it at him as he started to sit back up with a growl.

"No," she stated firmly, swallowing down as much of the arousal as she could. Eddie sat up a little off the floor, leaning on his elbows as he watched her brandish the knife at him. "You need to go. Don't make me say it a third time."

"Awww, 'Chelle," He smiled at her like he thought she was cute, that megawatt grin lighting up the dark kitchen, "Put that damn thing away, honey, only person you're gonna hurt is yourself."

She took a step closer, jaw clenched (as well as her thighs), "You know damn well I know how to use this - I'm not fucking around, Eddie, I want you to-"He lunged up at her suddenly, and she let out a shriek as she jumped back, still holding the knife steadily out in front of her as he leapt to his feet. "Jesus Christ!" One hand clutching her towel closed over her chest, her hand that held the knife trembled ever so slightly as she kept it pointed at him, "Just stop it already, would you please?!" She knew he was trying to scare her, and damn it, it worked. He had that look in his eyes he got when he was about to do something bad - that sick light in his dark iris's that meant he was more than willing to take her even with the knife still clutched between her fingers.

Instead of acting upon whatever he'd been thinking about doing, he relaxed his posture and reached a hand up to smooth his hair out of his face. He sighed, "Believe it or not sweetheart, I'm not here for a fight. I miss you - I wanted to see you." The words sounded foreign, awkward coming from him. The Comedian rarely got sentimental, rarely got serious unless he was pissed off. She almost felt uncomfortable hearing him say them, as much as he himself was saying them.

She swallowed thickly again at his low voice as it crawled over her flesh like a warm breath of air. She didn't let herself loosen her grip on the knife. "You broke into my apartment - into my building."

"Okay," He held up one large hand, palm facing out towards her, "That was broke when I got here - your fuckin' landlord is a piece of shit, wouldn't know how to fortify a building to save his damn life. Then I had to rush on up here and make sure you were okay, but you weren't home. So, yeah, then I picked your lock." He shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. "And I wouldn't have to break in if you didn't keep changing the damn locks."

She stared at him in outrage, "I never gave you a key!"

"You left a spare lying out on the fucking coffee table - what else were ya gonna do with it?"

"I wasn't gonna give it to you! Not everything is yours!"

"'Course it ain't," There was that grin again. God, he was going to be the death of her. "That's why when you want something, y'gotta take it."

Instead of arguing with him further, she shook her head, "You're fucking insufferable."

"And you love me for it," He winked at her, taking a step closer, not caring about the potential danger of the knife she held. She raised it at him in warning - she would not be swayed by his charm. Looking down at the blade like how one would look at a flower, the man before her tilted his head to one side before his eyes once again rose to meet hers. Then, "Were you takin' a bath before I came in?" The tone of his inquiry was general curiosity laced with suggestiveness - which meant that she should not answer this question. She didn't give him any indication that she'd heard him, but that didn't seem to deter him from his goal... Whatever it was at the moment. "Well hell, doll, don't let me stop ya! You know what, I've got a great idea: Why don't I join you? I'm feelin' real dirty right now..."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but he was already turning and heading towards her bathroom - her very tiny bathroom that could barely fit one person, let alone the both of them. He himself was the size of two and a half people - tall and broad, and his costume just added to his bulk. Still clutching the knife, she followed him, stepping carefully over the trail of costume he was leaving behind. She had half a mind to pick up all the pieces and throw it all out the window, but she didn't want to give him a reason to be walking around naked in her apartment. At least if everything was here, she could maybe chuck it all out in the hallway and shove him out with it. Maybe. Her heart stopped when she saw his pants lying in the doorway to the bathroom, and she gulped despite herself. "Eddie..." she warned, knowing the sight that would await her when she rounded the corner - she steeled herself for what she would see.

The sight before her she was sure would be the death of her, if nothing else he did quite did the trick. The Comedian was laying in her bathtub, which was not big enough for him, and he was naked. He scrubbed at the black paint around his eyes with the soapy water - he didn't seem to mind the girly scent. Everything was off - his clothes, his gloves, his mask. There were no weapons in sight, so unless they were submerged under the water with the rest of him, they were lying dormant on the floor with the rest of his costume. He cupped his large hands in the water to gather some, and poured it over his head, smoothing back his damp hair. God Almighty. He had to leave now before he caused her to do something she would regret.

"C'mon, 'Chelle, I need help gettin' my back. You know there's that one spot I can't ever reach,"

"No, what you need to do is go, just please, go."

"Please, please, please, so Goddamn polite," He plucked her purple loofah off of the hook it had been hanging on suctioned to the side of the shower. "You're even polite when my tongue is in your pussy." He chuckled at the thought, squeezing her loofah between his hands so the soap suds spilled over his fingers, "'Oh Eddie, please, oh unnh please...'"

She tried her best to ignore what his words did to her. She didn't know what to do - he wasn't going to leave and her resistance was fading. Her conscience was even whispering Just give him what he wants, what you want, and he'll go. But every time she did, it was harder to let him go.

She knew she wasn't the only one this whole situation was hard on.

Her lack of words caused him to look over in her direction, dark eyes trailing up her towel clothed body before meeting her own. He seemed to sense her conflict (which wasn't difficult given their past), and he stood up out of the water.

She'd been right about the whole 'no clothes' part. That was for certain.

Her mouth watered at the sight of him, much like the water that cascaded down his naked body as he stood there. She didn't stop her eyes from roaming; she couldn't. He extended a hand out to her, one long leg lifting over the edge of the porcelain to step out of the claw foot tub. Water dripped off his body onto the floor mat beneath him, and it wasn't long before he stood right in front of her once more. Her eyes were on his chest - where her eye level pointed directly since he was so tall. She focused on the hard muscle beneath the skin, a protective layer of fat covering the muscle - he was dense and warm, the kind of body that you wanted to cuddle up to; the kind of chest that you wanted to fall asleep on. She didn't want to look in his eyes; instead she focused on the dark hair on his chest that the water droplets clung to, the hair that traveled down and down and down - No, she wasn't going to look there, either.

"Where'd all that fire go?" he murmured, his voice low and sensual. It was said so quietly that she wasn't even sure if he was talking to her or of if he was commenting to himself. She felt his fingertips graze the backs of her hands, then close around her clenched fists, including the one still holding the giant breadknife. From there his hands stroked a line all the way up to her elbows where he lifted her limbs and placed them around his neck. It was so much harder not to look at him now - she had to keep her head tilted downwards. "'Chelle," She closed her eyes to keep from looking up into his. His hands were on her face then, gently but firmly tilting her head back. She knew what was coming, and she knew once she hit that certain point she wouldn't want to say no, wouldn't want to tell him to leave.

When she felt his lips touch hers, she knew that point had come. There was no going back now.

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AN: I do not own the Watchmen franchise or any of it's characters. Michelle is my own OC. I also do not own the song 'Natural Born Sinner' by In This Moment. The above pictures are from pinterest, there's links attached that go back to the original posts.

part two

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hunterssm00n · 5 months

Text

Natural Born Sinner / part 3 /

The Comedian has addictions too, and they include more than just cigars and violence. | Eddie Blake/OC |

part 3 of 3

also on ao3: here

*cw include dubcon smut, obsessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, degradation, stalking, emotional/psychological abuse, misogyny, name-calling, breaking and entering, past abuse, dark themes*

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What will I say? / What will I do? / Maybe it's fear / That leads your rage / Maybe you're me, and I am you

He lurched both of them forward so she was thrown up onto her knees, pushed her face first into the peach colored tile wall, and she knew it was all over.

With one surge, she was pushed face first against the tile wall, and there was barely a beat that went by before he pushed himself inside of her. The girth and length of him stretched her and filled her so good; she let out a wild animal sound that she'd never before made in her life.

It was all over now.

With that first stroke, all of her resistance had evaporated. It was all him now - he took over everything like he always did. He'd never left her mind. What was the point in even trying to make him? He was right; no matter what, it always ended this way. And when it was this good, what was really so bad about it?

Her brain was all Eddie, Eddie, EDDIE!

She moaned his name, her body rocking against the wall in time to his steady thrusts, "I hate you,"

His breathe was coming out in hot gusts against the back of her neck, and he groaned when she used her inner muscles to squeeze around him, "I know you do," He didn't even try to argue with her - he always knew the struggles she had in her mind about him. He was, in fact, irresistible, something he prided himself on. "But ya also fuckin' love me."

In between gasps, she breathed out, "That's a load of shit!"

Eddie chuckled deeply behind her, "That's a real sexy thing to say right now..."

"Shut up," she moaned out, her cheek against the tile shower wall. The man behind her reached around to her front to grope at her breasts, and she whimpered at the feel of his hot, calloused hands palming her sensitive flesh. She was close already, though she didn't want to be. That would just mean he'd won, once again. "Eddie..." But God, she couldn't help it. Everything was just so good, so fucking good - it was like trying to stop a train moving at a hundred miles an hour on a dime.

As if he could read her mind, he rumbled into her hair, "We just fit so damn good, baby; we're perfect fuckin' matchin' puzzle pieces, that's why it feels so damn good all the time, every time, that's why I can't fuckin' stay away from you and you can't fuckin' say no to me - we're two peas in a pod, hun, uh, fuckkk," He said all of this while he was fucking her, her body bouncing against the porcelain edge of the tub.

The whole time he was babbling just brought her closer and closer to her release that she knew would be one of many this evening. Her fight was steadily receding back to the recesses of her mind as her pleasure mounted and was brought to the forefront of her brain. EddieEddieEddieEDDIE-

"Oh, no," she moaned out, unable to stop herself.

Eddie Blake chuckled into her hair, taking pride and pleasure in her defeat, "Cum for me, 'Chelle,"

She let out another animal noise that she'd never made; one of pure pleasure and defeat as her sweet release exploded; he was right. She couldn't say no to him. Only he could bring her this type of pleasure, give her this kind of high. Only. Him.

He slowed at her back as she came down from her orgasm, kissing her hair, her neck, her shoulders. She openly shivered at the feel of his scratchy beard on her soft skin, but it was a good feeling. The thought of defying him did nothing for her anymore; it had all been zapped from her mind with that first release. Her body that had once been held rigid against him with defiance was now liquid and compliant. Her limbs contained no further fury to fight at the moment. Maybe tomorrow she would feel different, but now, she didn't care. Right now was all about her and him.

He had not come yet; he wouldn't for a while, she knew, and he gently turned her around in his arms in the bathtub and pulled her in to kiss him on the lips. "Baby..." She openly accepted his kiss now, the fight gone from her body, satisfaction having turned her bones to liquid and satiating her for that moment. His tongue met with hers and she let out a low moan against his lips, kissing him back lazily. The wet sounds of their lips meeting gave her a tingly feeling in her lower back, and she felt the familiar arousal slowly returning to her core. She didn't want to fight anymore tonight. She wanted to be with him like a lover, to enjoy his company like he was her boyfriend. She didn't want to fight anymore; she just wanted him.

This was it. He'd broken her down once again.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and accepted his embrace, pressing her damp breasts against his equally damp chest. The hair on his chest tickled her nipples and she tried to scoot her lower body closer to his across the bottom of the tub. It was easier said than done; the bath was barely big enough for one person, let alone two people, and one of them being built like a linebacker. Bed. Move to the bed. The thought made her breath quicken and her throat suddenly parched with thirst for him, and she started to rise up out of the bathtub, her hands not letting go of him. He must have misunderstood because he held fast to her waist as she tried to stand up off of her sore knees that she knew would have bruises all over them. "Where you goin'?" came his rasping voice, sounding ferocious, his brown eyes alight with a dangerous fire.

She gulped, her breaths coming heavy with her own arousal, chest heaving, "I- There's more room in the bed," She barely got the words out before he rose up out of the water, holding her body flush against his and pulling her up with him. Apparently she didn't have to tell him twice. When they were both standing and she was flush against him and she realized once again how much he towered over her, how much bigger his body was than hers, the musky smell of him permeating all of her senses. Why did he have to be like this? Why couldn't he be disgusting, not charming, not handsome? It wasn't fair. Maybe a stronger woman could resist him, but she wasn't that woman. She wanted him and there was nothing she could do about it.

Between her legs ached, and she rose on tiptoes to press her hips against his to try and relieve some of the pressure, hoping his cock would slide between her legs and rub against her soaking wet lips.

"Thought you wanted to go to the bed?" One of his big hands tangled into her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck, She let out a wordless whine as he licked a hot, wet line up her neck to her earlobe, where she felt his scruffy chin scrape her skin deliciously. "That's okay, we can go there after."

After?

Then he hoisted her up into his strong arms without warning, her thighs on either side of his hips and his hard flesh pressed against her core. Moaning with need as he pressed her back against the wall, she gripped his broad, sinewy shoulders with both hands as he pressed his hard, steel rod into her glossy opening. "Ohh, fuck, doll, you're so fuckin' wet," he groaned as he began thrusting at a steady pace. The pleasure between her legs exploded almost immediately, and her head lolled back against the tile wall, desperate sounds of pleasure winding their way out of her throat. "Fuck yeah, this what you like baby? Is this what you want?" he huffed as his hips bounced against hers with a wet slapping noise. He spread her open so exquisitely, fully filling her to the brim and giving her a sensation of being stretched that was unmatched. No one else could make her feel like this. Yes she did like this, yes this is exactly what she wanted. At this angle he was grinding against her clit, and with a shriek she came again, her walls clenching down on his cock and her nails digging into his shoulder sinew. "Yes baby yes," His hips stuttered against hers, and he gave a final hard thrust as he spilled himself inside of her. "Oohhh fuckkk," He grunted and held them both there for a few minutes, both of them and trying to catch their breath.

And then he said, "Now, what was it you were sayin' about a bed?"

Michelle looked at him for a moment before she broke out into giggles - giggles like she was a fucking schoolgirl or something. She realized she was probably drunk on his presence; that was what she would chalk it up to. "You're insufferable." She shook her head, but couldn't help the smile on her face.

"I'll show you insufferable, baby," With that, he hoisted her up into his arms so they were no longer leaning against the wall in the bath, instead he was supporting them on his two legs with her in his arms. He leaned in to kiss her, his tongue lapping at hers as he stepped out of the bathtub with her in his arms, his large hands holding onto her thighs and ass to keep her elevated in his arms. She kissed him back with fervor, not caring about anything else at the moment. She just wanted to enjoy his presence like he was a normal man, and she was a normal woman. She knew it was hypocritical of her to be cursing his name one moment and (screaming it) kissing him the other, but right now she simply did not care. He'd made her come more than once tonight so far, and she knew he was bound to make her come plenty more times this evening. Heaven knew they had a long night ahead of them; she just wanted to relax and enjoy it without feeling guilty or angry at him, or herself. She was just too damn tired to keep up the act tonight. His presence had a way of doing that to her.

She felt a cool, hard surface under her backside, jumping a little at the unexpected contact, and when she opened her eyes she realized he had walked them into the kitchen and had placed her down on the counter top where he'd first cornered her.

"This is where it should have happened first."

The hair on the back of her beck rose, and she knew what was going to happen before it even did. "Eddie-" She was cut off by him leaning down and taking a ripe nipple into his mouth, lightly scraping his teeth across the hard bud. Much like before, she leaned her head back with a smack against her cabinets on the wall, a hiss of pleasure escaping through her teeth. She felt his calloused fingers trailing down her hips, over the tops of her thighs to slip between them, coaxing them further open. She anticipated the feel of those fingers on her core before it even happened - she was practically holding her breath in anticipation. At the first swipe of his fingers on her soaked cunt, dripping with their mixed fluids, it was like a zap of electricity that shot through her whole body. Despite him already just having made her come - a few times - every touch of his fingers felt brand new, like she was a virgin all over again, and he was going to he her first lover. Any other lover she'd ever had couldn't hold a candle to this man, and that was a fact.

She nearly jolted off of the countertop and onto the floor when she felt his lips replace his fingers, and a gasp came from her throat that she couldn't control. One of his hands reached up to fondle a breast while the other held her thigh open so he could better reach his target. He wasn't kidding when he said he was insufferable. He was literally eating her out on top of her kitchen counter. The surface underneath her was going to be disgusting tomorrow morning, covered with a mixture of water, her fluids, his cum and saliva. That thought came and went quickly though, as it was hard to focus on anything other than the immense pleasure she was feeling.

He sucked her clit into his mouth, hard, and her body jumped like she'd been zapped. She moaned loudly, the combination of his tongue and fingers and scruff of his beard making her so aroused. "Eddie..."

He rose from his place between her legs, his hands remaining on her hips. He kissed up her body until he got to her lips, and she could taste herself on his tongue, mixed with his own semen. Their mingled fluids were steadily soaking the countertop she was sitting on; she could feel the slick mixture between her thighs and under them. He was vile, but she would have been lying if she said that wasn't attractive to her. From him, at least. She would have never let anyone else do this to her; never let anyone else do half of the things they had done to each other.

Suddenly he pulled her up off of the counter, her backside sliding easily across the surface from the liquids pooling underneath her. She expected him to pick her up and carry her to the aforementioned bed. She was surprised again when he set her on her feet and turned her around so she was facing the counter and the cabinets, and she realized, at this moment, he wasn't quite done with her here yet. With one big hand on the middle of her back, he pushed her facedown onto the wet surface, her heavy breasts mushing into the puddle of sticky liquid.

"Tell me you want it," came his lust shredded voice from above and behind her.

Had she more will to withstand his power, maybe she would have held out further. He was too strong; too good. And he knew he could break her into pieces. Maybe he wouldn't have wanted a stronger woman. Maybe he thought she was perfect just the way she was. Why did that thought sound so right, so good? Especially since it couldn't have been true; Eddie Blake had hundreds of women chasing him at all times. How did he do this to her? Why did he have this effect on her?

She gulped, but didn't say anything. The words were still caught in her throat, surprisingly enough. Even after all they had done so far, this was the part she was having trouble with. Because he was such a narcissist, he wanted her to tell him exactly how much she wanted him - as though he couldn't see her right here, naked and willing before him, dripping with water and sweat and various other juices. God damn him.

"Please, Eddie, cut the shit and just..."

He rubbed the tip of his cock against her entrance, already hard again. She highly doubted he was ever soft. He felt so good just brushing against her slit; she thought she would die if he didn't push himself inside of her.

"Just what, baby?"

She laid her forehead down on the cool surface she was bent over, and growled out, "Just fuck me, goddammit."

His laughter came from the same place that his voice had, somewhere above and behind her, His big hands grabbed hold of her hips, lining himself up with her entrance. "With pleasure." And then he entered her with one big shove. Immediately he began a rough, fast pace, his hips smacking hard against her backside and making a wet slapping noise of skin on skin in quick succession. One hand stayed on her hip while the other reached up and grabbed the back of her neck to keep her chest down on the countertop. Her chest made wet squeaking noises on the damp surface as her body forcefully rocked with each hard thrust. He wasn't holding back now.

"Is this what you like, bitch? Huh?" he ground out. This was the real Eddie Blake. Rough, not gentle or loving. A cold bastard. And god she loved it. All she could do was moan his name over and over and over. She felt herself getting closer with every earth shattering thrust. She knew her whole body would be sore tomorrow; knew there would be bruises everywhere. But she also knew it would be worth it.

"Eddddiiiiieeee," Her voice was jumbled from the forceful pounding her backside was taking by his hips, brutal and uncaring. Justified by his own proclamation in his constant state of self-righteousness. He was owed something by the world, according to him. And this was just him simply taking what he was due.

Her poor pussy ached, and she couldn't tell how many times she had come around his cock as he'd been pounding into her on her kitchen counter, but from the squelching noises where their bodies met and the rivulets of sticky liquid running down her legs, she knew it had been quite a few times.

"Who's fuckin' pussy is this?"

"Y- Yours," She sounded drugged, her words slurred.

"Who's?" The hand that had been on her hip smacked her ass cheek, hard. There would be a mark from that tomorrow, too.

"Yours, Eddie, it's yours." She felt heat rising once again, and she moaned, her fingers gripping the edges of the countertop she was being rutted against. She was a tough woman, she thought - she shouldn't enjoy being degraded like this.

"That's what I fuckin' thought." He said this with each hard thrust. That's. What I. Fuckin'. Thought.

Without warning, her orgasm overtook her, as the main railing into her was practically yelling: "Say my name, baby!"

"Eddie! Eddie!" she shrieked out, and he gave one last final shove into her with a shout as he came as well, his hot seed filling her womb once again.

Michelle was completely exhausted. She could hear Eddie behind her sounding none too lively himself as the two of them each tried to catch their breath. After what must have been a few minutes but felt like mere seconds, she felt herself being lifted up off of the countertop. Her legs were so tired and sore she didn't know if she could stand, but somehow she did. Her knees wobbled as the man behind her took her hand and turned her around, then led her towards the bedroom - her bedroom. She was too tired to protest as he opened the door and walked the small expanse of the room until he got to her bed. Lazily, he flopped down onto her mattress, and she couldn't even muster an eyeroll at the self satisfied grin on his lips. Everything was almost a blur at the moment, she was so tired. He pulled her down onto the bed with him, got her pillows situated, got them both snuggled under the covers, and she could feel sleep pulling at her as she laid against his warm skin.

Tonight, she would pretend. But just for tonight, she told herself as she drifted off into slumber.

"Damn, I missed you, doll." came his voice near her ear, also sleepy with satisfied lust.

She had missed him, too.

౨ৎ

AN: I do not own the Watchmen franchise or any of it's characters. Michelle is my own OC. I also do not own the song 'Natural Born Sinner' by In This Moment. The above photos are from pinterest, and have links attached to the original posts.

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hunterssm00n · 11 days

Text

Ready or Not

The voice on the other end of the phone huffed out a laugh, and those same tingles went down her spine once again.

"No, but I'd like to be your friend." | Ghostface/OC |

part 1 of 2

also on ao3: here

*cw includes explicit sexual content, unspecified male Ghostface, dirty talk, dub-con, stalking, breaking and entering, criminal behavior, explicit language, praise kink, serial killer behavior, and voice kink*

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

Ready or not / here I come / you can't hide / I'm gonna find you...

It always begins the same, doesn't it? Young, cute woman, home alone, watching a scary movie and making a snack...

When suddenly, out of nowhere, the phone rings.

It's after eight - who could be calling at such an hour?

The number doesn't come up on caller ID; the name reads unknown. Could it be any more ominous?

It rings, and rings, and ri-

"You could just, like, not answer," Kailey said out loud to herself, shaking her head of long, dark hair at the TV screen for what seemed like the fiftieth time. The young woman on the screen paid her no mind - the dumb bitch never did - as she tearfully answered the phone once again to plead with the killer to leave her alone; to please stop calling. Kailey sighed, taking a sip of her vanilla Coke as she leaned back on the couch. She'd seen this movie about a hundred times, and she still was amazed at how dumb some of the characters were. The outcome was always the same, no matter how much she tried to warn them to Don't answer it! Look behind you! For fuck's sake, don't hide under the bed! And no matter how many times she knew she was just talking aloud to an empty room and her TV screen, she still continued to do it.

Regardless of her annoyance about the unwise decisions some people make during horror movies, she genuinely loved watching them. Her friends and family thought it was weird that she enjoyed horror movies so much, but she didn't really care what other people thought of her. Movies were her escape, and she always felt at peace when watching her favorites.

The young woman on the screen was now running away from her patio window after a chair had been thrown through it, her tear streaked face pulled into a grimace as she ran wildly down the hallway away from the killer. Kailey found herself wondering, not for the first time, what she would do in that situation. Would she hang up and call the police? Hide? Escape the house? Honestly, she liked to think that she'd grab the biggest fucking knife she could find in the cupboard and stand her ground. Though she was slim and athletic, and barely reached five foot six, she knew she could put up a fight if she needed to. But maybe escaping the house and running to her car would be the safest, smartest option. Who knew, though. Thinking about it didn't harm anyone, though; one couldn't be too prepared. But one definitely could be unprepared.

She was taking another sip of her Coke when her phone rang suddenly, scaring the daylights out of her and nearly making her drop the can and spill the addictive, sugary liquid all over the place. Wiping her mouth, heart pounding in her chest from the suddenness of it, she laughed to herself at the irony of the situation: here she was, watching a scary movie, alone in her home at night, and then, dun dun dunnn, her own phone rings in real life. Rolling her eyes, Kailey said out loud, "Ooh, spooky," and made a mental note to not answer the phone. But the more it rang, the more she wondered if maybe she should. If someone was calling her landline at eight fourteen at night, it could be important. Her cell was charging in the other room- maybe whoever it was had tried to reach her on there first, and when she didn't pick up, they called her home phone. Ugh, it better not be work. She decided to just let it go to voicemail- if it was something emergent, she would pick up... unless it was work. Then she would pretend she had fallen asleep early.

Her plan failed, however, when she heard the telltale beeping of the answering machine that signaled the mailbox was full. "Shit." she muttered, leaning over the arm of the couch to look at the grey and black box, as though willing for it to share its secrets with her. It didn't help that her landline didn't have caller ID like most people's did- it was older, but since it still worked, she couldn't justify buying a new one. This was why she'd been counting on the answering machine picking up and being able to tell that way, instead.

Stop being a little bitch - man up and just answer the phone. If it's not anything important you can just hang up. Besides, who the hell else would be calling at this time of night anyways besides work or family?

Before she got the chance to pick up, the answering machine hung up on the caller. For a moment she dumbly stared at the phone and the answering machine, and then she shrugged and turned back towards the slasher film that was still playing. The girl on the screen was now being chased by the killer, his long, black cloak flying out behind him as he ran after her, gleaming knife raised high in the air.

It was at this moment that the phone rang again, and this time Kailey leaned over towards the end table and picked the cordless, white handheld up off of the stand. If they were calling back so soon, it had to be something important. Maybe it was her mother. And since she hadn't answered the first time her mom, if it was in fact her, was probably wondering if she had fallen and cracked her head in the clawfoot bathtub; or if she had finally decided that going to bed at eight o clock in the evening was not, in fact, too early. As if.

Without thinking any more about it, she reached over and answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Hello, Kail."

The voice startled her, and it wasn't any she'd been expecting; not the voice of her mother, or of her boss wanting her to come into work. It was a man's voice; low and pleasant, almost a purr, with a hint of a rasp to it. Come to think of it, it sounded a hell of a lot like- "Um, hi. Who is this?" she asked, equally pleasant but also wary. A bill collector wouldn't have greeted her like that - definitely not. It had to be someone who knew her; knew her voice. And only people that were close to her called her Kail - most called her Kailey. And she didn't have many close friends, and definitely none that were guys. Guys wanted to get in her pants, not be her friend. With her long, dark hair, large dark doe eyes, and her womanly athletic figure, she knew how men looked at her. And, hey, she wasn't above being a little bit of a tease.

"Just an... admirer." The voice was nice- really nice. It was an exact replica of the voice from the Stab movies, and also the Ghostface killings that tended to happen throughout the years in Woodsboro. Living there had its nightmares.

Kailey leaned back on the couch, really wishing the house phone had caller ID right about now. "An admirer, huh?"

"Yeahh," the voice purred, and she found herself pressing the phone closer to her ear to take it in even more. It sent a chill down her spine - a good kind.

"Okay, well," She tried wracking her brain for someone, anyone, that had been super interested in her lately. Maybe someone at work - someone she talked to every day. She worked in the inventory department at the local hospital in Woodsboro, and she wasn't super friendly with any of her coworkers; they all got along, but she tended to keep to herself. Kailey was pretty observant, and no incidents stood out to her. No strange guys, no creeps following her or watching her from afar (that she'd noticed, at least). "Do I know you, Mr. Admirer?"

"Maybe." was his reply. His voice sounded so damn amused, even only saying one word.

'Maybe'... Okay? Well, that certainly doesn't help me.

"Are you... one of my friends playing a prank on me?" It had to be. She didn't know where any of her friends would have gotten the Ghostface voice-changer, or why they would have even wanted to do such a thing. None of her friends really watched scary movies, and most of them did not know the number for her house phone.

The voice on the other end of the phone huffed out a laugh, and those same tingles went down her spine once again. Whoever this is, their voice is sexy as fuck.

"No, but I'd like to be your friend." came the bemused reply to her question.

...Hmm, now she was really wondering who it was.

"Well," she began, smiling to herself and letting it seep into her voice, "it's kind of a weird time to ask to be my friend, on a Friday night at eight pm."

Now the voice on the other end chuckled, the sound deep and low, and cascading over her like a warm waterfall. The feeling ended with a zap straight down between her legs, and she squirmed on the couch, eyes flicking briefly to the movie she still had playing, but at this point had nearly forgotten about.

"Is there ever really a bad time to make a new friend?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes playfully, even knowing he couldn't see it.

"I guess not. So, tell me, friend, how'd you get my number?" She reached for her drink, wracking her brain on trying to figure out who this possibly could be.

"It was in the phonebook," he answered, lightly. Why did everything he said sound like he was flirting with her? And why was it so hot?

She guessed phonebooks were still a thing (maybe for old people), but she could tell his answer was teasing, and probably not truthful. But maybe it was? It would certainly explain a lot. And it would mean that whomever this was on the other line had to at least know her name, in order to find her in the phonebook. She didn't know how many Kailey Miller's lived in Woodsboro, but it couldn't be that many.

This speculation still wasn't getting her any closer to an actual answer, but... maybe that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Maybe some mystery was good, and also added to the attraction she was currently feeling.

At this particular moment, the female character in the movie she still had playing gave a particularly piercing scream, and she reached for the remote in order to turn it down.

"Are you watching a scary movie?" he asked, and she nearly laughed once again at the irony. Here was a caller with a (sexy) voice that sounded just like Ghostface, and they randomly called her while she was watching Stab. And now they were asking her about a scary movie. What the actual hell.

"Y-Yeah," She didn't know if she should answer him, or hang up the phone, lock all the doors and windows and call the police. "I am."

"Or do you normally have hysterical, screaming victims chained up in your house?" he added playfully.

This got a laugh out of her. "Oh, yes - you've figured out my secret. Promise you won't tell the police?" She hoped she wasn't laying the flirting on too thick - it kind of made her want to gag. Her normal idea of flirting was making sarcastic comments and inappropriate jokes. But understandably to some people, that could be pretty off-putting. So unfortunately more often than not, she found herself trying to dum things down for the sake of others around her.

There was a pause, in which Kailey could hear him breathing on the other end of the phone, and she really wondered if she had scared him off or if he was about to hang up. But then he spoke: "I won't tell if you won't."

The words sent a chill down her spine, and the way he managed to make something like that sound so creepy and so hot at the same time was beyond her. And maybe she was crazy, but goddamn was it sexy. She'd never felt so attracted to another human being. Ever.

And then the power flickered in her house.

She wondered if she’d imagined it, at first. Her house was on the outskirts of Woodboro, surrounded by trees and green, but her house hardly ever lost power since she was still technically in town. Her mother had been very adamant about making sure they remained in the town, for the sole purpose of being close to everything that necessitated being close to. Be that the school, jobs, the hospital, the drugstore, etc. and they never lost power. Her mother had long since moved out of the area to a different town, but Kailey had inherited the house, and was very proud to call it her own. Right now, however, she was questioning the choice of location.

Kailey found herself looking up at the light above, wondering if it had actually flickered, or if she was finally officially losing her mind.

“Whatcha looking at?”

The question didn’t quite register at first, but when it did, it felt like everything paused. She slowly reached for the remote next to her on the couch cushion and paused the movie, wondering if he’d really said what she thought he’d said - what she was certain he’d said. “What… What did you say?”

“I said: Whatcha doin?”

She shook her head, feeling her stomach twist uncomfortably for the first time since she’d answered the phone. “No, you didn’t.”

Suddenly a feeling crept over her like she’d never experienced: she had never been so certain that she was being watched. And she’d also never been more aware that she was sitting in front of a clear window with her back to it.

Cold chills washed over her like never before, and she felt like she’d been plunged into a frozen lake. Survival instincts took over, and she slowly sank down on the couch so that she was no longer visible from the window behind her - however, she could still be seen from the front door, and the side window to the left of the couch. Especially with the lights on. So naturally, maybe not the smartest thing, but her first order of business was to kill the lights. She quickly got up and ran the short distance to the front door, and flicked off the light switch, at the same time flipping the locks on the front door, as it hadn’t been locked before - but it sure as hell was now!

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this - or if she’d ever felt like this.

“Who turned out the lights?” came the playfully sinister voice from the other side of the window. She’d nearly forgotten she was still on the phone, as silly as that sounded, for that was the whole reason for all of this current madness and fear.

The fact that he was watching her was now quite apparent. Outside of her home was surrounded by plenty of trees and brush to hide in; lots of shadows in the dark. And aside from her porch light, there was only one street lamp outside, directly across the drive from the house. And it was inconsistent when it came to whether or not it would be working, at any given moment. Either way, as she peered out through the window that looked out across the porch, she knew that she probably wouldn't be able to tell where he was hiding. And the fact that he knew where she was, but she didn't know where he was, scared her inexplicably beyond words.

Swallowing hard, Kailey tried to hide the tremor in her voice as she spoke into the phone, "Listen, if this is a prank, congratulations - you've had your fun. Now, now get the fuck out of here before I call the police."

A warm, breathy chuckle followed closely after her words, and she crept back away from the window towards the couch, "This isn't a prank, Kails. You should know that."

She shook her head in confusion, "What do you mean? I don't understand - I should know what?" She tried to wrack her brain for anything that had happened recently that would indicate that she was deserving of a 'prank' like this. Sure, she had enemies - but so did everyone. But none that she knew of that would go this far to prove a point, or any of which that knew where she lived (that she knew of, at least). And again, she really didn't think any of her friends would want to pull a Ghostface prank on her - they were all freaked out by the murders, rightfully so, and they were all pretty straight laced for the most part. The more she tried to come up with answers, the more questions she had.

There was a pause from the other end of the phone, a brief one, while her hand felt around on the couch cushion for the TV remote, wanting to turn the movie off to eliminate that source of light as well. She was crouched on the floor, eyes nervously darting around at all the windows and the door to make sure no one was trying to break in. And then, he said: “You want this.”

Her hand froze on the couch cushion, as did her whole body; as did her very breath. “W-What?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” His voice was so husky and warm, and despite her fear she felt a pleasant tingling in her lower back, her heart beginning to race for a different reason. “You’ve been thinking about this for quite some time - wanting it, dreaming about it. You think nobody would ever understand. You think it’s wrong to want something so dirty. But it’s not wrong. And I understand.”

Kailey still hadn’t managed to grab onto the remote - she was forced to listen to what he was saying with her cheeks heating, red in shame, and… something else. What was even going on? What the hell was happening to her?

“I don’t know what you think you know,” she began, a tremor in her voice, though she tried to make it as serious and steely as possible, “but if you’re trying to scare me, good luck. It’s you who’s gonna be fucking scared if I have to come out there with my gun.”

He chuckled again, and the hair on the back of her neck rose once again at the sound. “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have a gun.”

While she internally bristled at the confidence of his statement (and at the fact that he was absolutely correct), she also preened at the pet name as well as the tone of his voice. And, not that he needed to know this, but she absolutely did not have a gun. But damn, would one be helpful right about now. “As long as you leave now you won’t have to find out.”

“Feisty girl,” he purred, and she heard some rustling in the background of his call for the first time. “I can’t wait to see how feisty you truly are.”

“I can’t wait to see your fucking face when the cops show up and arrest your dumbass for trespassing and harassment.” She finally was able to turn off the TV when her hand found the remote. If this was a prank, it was long past the point of being funny. Now she was just plain pissed off - and scared. “I’m not kidding, asshole, you’d better leave, or else.” That fine tremor was still in her voice, and as much as she tried to project it to make her voice sound more aggressive, she could barely get it out at an audible octave. Right now all of her energy was being expended on thoughts of survival and on what to do next.

This was probably a prank, though. It had to be… right? If she went into work on Monday and someone was going around talking about how they pranked her and ‘she was so scared, dude!’, she was gonna lose her effing mind, and heads were gonna roll. As soon as she found out which jackass from the hospital came here to terrorize her on a Friday night, she would make them regret it. But until then, she would feel safer with a weapon of some kind, and with the police alerted. They took these Ghostface pranks very seriously.

“Why would I leave now?” the voice questioned, and she heard a noise that sent her pulse skyrocketing even higher than it already had been: footsteps on her front porch. “We’re just getting started.”

She barely registered the telltale scrape of the mailbox cover being pulled down from against the outside wall of the house next to the front door - where the spare key to the house was kept - before she bolted out of the room with terror hot on her heels. Who was this person, and how did they know where she kept the spare key to her house? The exact spot? Granted, it wasn’t a very hard spot to find, but still. He had found it with no hesitation whatsoever - he’d had a preconceived idea of where it had been before he even came up onto the porch. That meant only one thing: whoever he was, he’d been watching her. For a while.

And now he was coming into her house.

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

AN: I do not own the Scream franchise or any of it's characters, but Kailey is my own OC. I also do not own the song 'Ready or Not' by Razakel. The above photos are from Pinterest, and attached are the links to the original images.

part two coming soon

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hunterssm00n · 5 months

Text

Deal / part 2 /

What first starts out as a cruel prank turns into a night of unmatched passion. | Waylon Jones/OC |

part 2 of 3

also on ao3: here

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

/ / Taste / /

There was nowhere to go; he was everywhere.

That low crocodile growl coming from him, and again I thought Is this it? Is this really it? I felt his breath hot on my neck, and I realized once again that my hands had flown to his chest to keep him at bay- though that wouldn’t actually stop him at all. He nuzzled his face into my hair and inhaled, one massive hand going to my neck so his thumb could lightly stroke my pulse point. “Mmm there it is,” His breathing had somehow grown even more ragged against my hair, the smell of rotting meat pervading my senses, and I really did wonder if that one guy pounding on the door was right: Was he going to fuck me and then kill me? Kill me then fuck me? Fuck me while killing me?!

I tried to roll out from under him on the side that his arm caught me around the waist and rolled me back underneath him, “Where d’ya think you’re going, little one?” He didn’t sound angry, but amused once again. When I was fully back underneath him he lowered his bottom half onto me to hold me there and caged me with both of his massive arms on either side of my head. Him laying on top of me wasn’t hurting me- yet, my mind screamed- he just held me there so I wasn’t able to move. His yellow eyes gleamed dangerously down at me. “We have a deal, remember?”

Now I did struggle beneath him, though it did me no good. He was too big, too strong, too everywhere. “Croc,” I whimpered as I squirmed underneath him- his body heat radiated off of him and onto me, practically into me. I felt like I was on fire. “Please!” My hands lightly pushed at that brick wall of a chest that was hovering over me- and it was the size of about three of me put together, and harder than the stone floor underneath his mattress.

“Mmm there’s those soft hands,” he purred, and one of his own monstrous appendages lifted from off of the mattress next to my head to hold both of my much smaller ones against his pectorals, “So fucking soft, so small; fuck, you smell amazing,”

My breathing was getting out of control once again - I saw the edges of my vision going blurry, felt the familiar pull into blackness - and then suddenly his voice was right next to my ear, “Breathe.” It was gentle yet commanding (well, as gentle as a harsh growling rasp of a voice such as his could be), and it turned me on so damn much. “You’re okay- just breathe. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He must have realized he’d pushed me too far. His words were so soothing.

“D- Don’t eat me,” I gasped out. I could feel my eyelids getting heavy, my limbs feeling water logged.

“Sweetheart, I’m not gonna eat you - remember the deal? A kindness for a kindness.”

A kindness for a kindness, a kindness for a kindness…

He hovered over me while I worked myself out of the anxiety attack, and his steady rasping breathing in my ear along with more gentle commands to Just breathe, easy now, was actually very calming and helpful.

Finally after what seemed like an hour, I looked at him; at those glowing animal eyes. “You’re not gonna eat me?”

“If I was gonna eat you,” he answered seriously, “I would have done it back where I found you. I woulda pulled you into the water and that woulda been the end of it. You wouldn’t have even had a chance to scream. And tonight, little one, I’m very much looking forward to making you scream.” His golden eyes gleamed with hunger and desire, and I felt a tingle in my lower back at his words; a tingle that spread down between my legs.

He’d clearly been enjoying his innuendos and teasing me, aka scaring the shit out of me, but he seemed to know when he had taken it too far. I told myself I would bonk him over the head with my fist once I knew I was for sure safe. That would probably hurt me more than it would him, but still, it would make me feel better.

Now, one of his massive thighs slid between mine, and then the other, so my legs were spread wide beneath him, leaving me feeling exposed even though I still wore my clothes. I could feel the scalding heat of him on the insides of my thighs, even through my scrub pants, and god it was torturous in the best way. He leaned his large head to my neck and pressed his nose against it, inhaling deeply, “Ohh baby, you smell so fucking good,” I shivered at his words, noting how his voice sounded strained and wanton. His face moved down from my neck to my chest, nose and mouth now buried between my breasts, making me gasp, and he inhaled deeply once again with a chuckle. Even through the material of my shirt it felt amazing; I couldn't imagine how good it would feel once my clothes were finally off. I dug my nails into the thick mattress below me, my breathing now heavy with a different kind of exertion - and still a little bit of fear (okay, a lot) - but a very different kind of fear.

He continued like that down my rib cage, belly, hips, and then without warning he buried his face between my spread legs, inhaling like his life depended on it. I gasped out loud, my whole body jolting with shock and, dare I say it, pleasure. His nose was pressed to my clit as he sucked in deep inhales of the scent of my pussy, and this just made me even more wet, even more turned on. “Fuck, little one,” he growled out, voice heavy with arousal. His massive hands enclosed my hips, and he made sure to look me in the eye as he all of a sudden licked a long, slow stripe from my ass up to my pubic bone. My body jerked in surprise and pleasure once again, and I arched my back underneath him, the pressure and sight of that long, long tongue making me whimper. The material of my pants was now completely soaked with his warm saliva, much like my underwear was soaked with my own desire.

Those yellow eyes gleamed back at me with such a hunger and desire I'd never seen in anyone or anything else before, and he purred out, "What's your name?"

I blinked, and repeated the question in my mind to make sure I'd heard right. An interesting time for him to ask, sure, but more than that, I felt a flood of warmth travel throughout my body, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. He wanted to know my name. But why?

Swallowing with both nerves and desire, I answered: "Kris." I already knew his name, but debated asking him anyways. Maybe if I asked him, it would give him that same warm, fluttery feeling I'd gotten. It felt so good, so right - I wanted to share it. "Waylon?" I asked him in a small voice.

He chuckled, good naturedly, golden reptile eyes flashing. "Yeah, doll. But you can just call me Croc if ya like." Here, he winked at me, and I couldn't help but smile.

I felt his claw tipped fingers find the top of my pants, stroking the seam, and my eyes fluttered open to look down at him, my own chest heaving with desire. “You ready, pretty one?”

Swallowing hard, I nodded quickly, nervous but eager to feel more of that tongue on me.

And then before I knew it, he was tearing off my pants - literally tearing them off of me in shreds. I don't know why I was surprised by this, but I was also very turned on by the sight of his huge, clawed hands making quick work of the fabric of my scrub bottoms and my panties in one fell swoop. My chest heaved with need, as my lower half was now exposed to the warm, damp air. And speaking of damp, I was absolutely soaking wet.

With my womanhood now exposed and open, I could feel the breeze on me, in me - and his hot breath boring down on me, scalding my skin in the best way. My hips rocked upward of their own accord, desperate for contact, and he chuckled lowly. "You're something else, little one." He lowered his head to my bare pussy and inhaled deeply, hissing out a curse. Then his tongue licked lightly up from my dripping center to my clit, a thin stripe that had me arching up off the bed, breath coming out in a gasp. His eyes burned with intensity, fluttering as he did the same thing again, forked tongue ever so lightly scraping up my pussy, flicking against my clit, making me crazy. I whimpered, squirming underneath him, now for an entirely different reason. He groaned deeply in his chest, and a full body shudder rippled through him. "You taste even fuckin' better than you smell - how is that possible?" His voice was rough with arousal, and before I could speak he was licking me for a third time, up the entire length of my groin, tongue applying a little more pressure now. I squeaked at the contact, my top half coming up off of the mattress. I didn't know whether I wanted to push him away or pull him closer; his teasing licks were torturous.

Another chuckle huffed out from him, and his hot breath on my cunt nearly made me go cross-eyed with need. "Ohh sweetheart, I think we need to alter the deal a bit - I'm gonna need more than just a taste."

I was about to ask what he meant by that when his long, long tongue slid inside of me, worming its way past my entrance and deep into my pussy. I arched up off the bed once again with a whimper, my eyes rolling back into my head. My pussy clenched down on his tongue, and the slippery appendage was undeterred as it continued to writhe around inside of me; finding all of my spots, tasting every inch of me from within. It was nothing like I'd ever felt before, and the strange but amazing pleasure threatened to drive me over the edge into delirium.

"Ohh, Croc, please!" I whined, my hips moving in tandem with his tongue, though I was not at all in control of them; they were rocking of their own accord. He purred at my eagerness with his tongue still inside of me, his claws slightly digging into my flesh from his own arousal, which I could tell was wobbling on the precipice of control. At some point I knew that control would snap, and I didn't know if I was quite ready for it, but fuck I wanted it nonetheless.

Without warning he slid his tongue out of me, and I moaned in protest and at the weird, slippery feeling of the appendage retreating from within me. "You're a tight little thing, ain'cha?" he rasped out, that large mouth smiling and exposing rows of sharp, inhuman teeth. That mouth had just been doing me better than I'd ever been done before, so I didn't care what it looked like - though, I had to admit, he was super hot.

I had been so close to the edge, and now without that constant, steady pressure inside me, it was dulling to a throb. But this was far from over, it seemed, because then he released my hips momentarily so that he could lift my legs over his shoulders and press my knees back against my chest. If I'd thought I was exposed before, that didn't compare at all to now, pinned to the mattress and held wide open beneath him. As if he'd never stopped, he went right back to devouring my pussy with his tongue, lapping up my juices and swirling that slimy appendage around my clit, making me see stars. I couldn't arch up off of the mattress now because of this new position I was in; all I could do was squirm and whine with need. The whole time I felt his body moving against me, and I could only assume it was his hips humping against the mattress. He was turned on by what he was doing to me. That thought only served to fuel my own desire even more. I was so needy I wasn't even scared anymore of the thought of him eating me - I wanted him to keep devouring my pussy, and I never wanted it to stop.

That thick, slimy tongue slid into me once again, and I gasped at the taboo feeling intrusion, my walls clenching down on the fat, wriggling muscle. This was only made even better yet by one of his huge fingers coming up to press down on my clit, and I whimpered with abandon. I could feel the fire rising in the pit of my stomach, spreading everywhere, and him working my sweet spots was so good, so delicious. And then with a tug of his tongue and his scaly finger rubbing my clit, I was cumming harder than I'd ever cum before, shrieking and writhing underneath him as my pussy leaked all over my lower half - and all over his snarling maw. The fire had now completely consumed me; I belonged to the inferno - the inferno that was Croc and his wicked mouth.

I'd thought his breathing couldn't get anymore labored, but it somehow had, and he gently pulled his tongue from within me, the sound making a squelch as he did so. I wasn't even embarrassed at the noise - I was too spent from the massive, most satisfying orgasm I'd ever had in my life. His eyes watching me, that long tongue lapped my juices from around his mouth in a distinctly reptilian way, and oh my lord, the sight gave me chills. Good ones.

"So sweet," he groaned, reaching down below and palming himself through his pants. I shivered hard, even in my exhausted, satisfied state, at the thought of him being aroused by getting me off. And the thought of his size and his body, wondering what his cock looked like, how big he probably was... I was sure he'd split me in two. He hadn't even put a finger inside of me yet - and his fingers were thick and long. Yet? I thought to myself. Getting a little ahead of ourselves now, are we?

As if he read my mind, Croc rasped out, "Technically our deal is up, pretty one. You're free to go; I'll take you to the back exit. However," Those yellow eyes gleamed once again, deep with hunger and the promise of even more pleasure, "if you chose to stay a little bit longer, I'd make it worth your while..."

This man had just eaten me out with such superiority to anyone and anything else, I could not imagine just leaving now and being on my merry way. Images of being taken by him in other ways flashed through my mind: on my back with my legs hooked over those massive forearms as he drilled into me; on my hands and knees with him rocking into me from behind, my face buried in the mattress beneath us; him on his back with me riding him slowly, steadily, my nails digging into the hard plains of his torso as his claws dug into the flesh of my hips.

There was no way I was leaving now.

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

AN: I do not own the Batman: Arkham Asylum franchise or any of it's characters, but Kris is my own OC.

part three

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hunterssm00n · 6 months

Text

Five Minutes

Quick drabble about what Tommy and his girlfriend do behind closed doors in the Hewitt household. | Tommy Hewitt/OC |

Full (ish) story is on my AO3: here

and some other shorts/drabbles on the same story/characters: here

*cw smutty situations* MDNI - 18+

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

I hope you like red lips, driveway kissing / 'Cause if you want it baby, that's what you'll be getting / Every night, all of the time / I hope that's alright...

She laid awake in the dark room, waiting for the hall light to turn off.

'Nae was in the guest room of the Hewitt household, and she knew that five minutes after the light went out, she would sneak off down the hall into Tommy’s room. Once that light went out, it meant that everyone else was settled in, and the two could play. The reason they gave it five minutes was to be sure that everyone else was either asleep, or close to it. She wasn’t sure if Tommy was aware that the other people in the house probably suspected what they did after hours, but she just had one of those feelings that they weren’t the only people that knew. She didn’t really mind everyone else knowing. However, it just made her feel better that everyone else was asleep and couldn’t hear what was going on. Hopefully.

The past couple of nights that she’d been here (she’d moved her stuff in for the past few days, since she’d been sleeping over/house sitting for a week starting the next day), this has been their process. They’d decided on Tommy’s room as the ‘place’ because it was farther down the hall from anybody else’s room, and therefore, anyone else would be much less likely to hear whatever went on.

The light winked out under the door to her room, and a door gently shut somewhere in the hall. Go-time. She checked the clock on her phone: 10:14pm. Five minutes. She settled back onto the bed, trying to calm her pounding heart, and trying to be patient for the next five minutes. They hadn't had sex. Not yet, anyways. They'd come close, but then one of the jailbirds had gotten loose, and Tommy had to go chase him down. Other than that instance, everything had pretty much been groping, kissing, touching, biting, etc. And not all of it had been clothes on either, but hey, who was going to split hairs?

She looked at her phone again. 10:17. Damn. Come on. Let's go.

Last night had been a little bit different than the other times, but in a really, really nice way. To put it simply, neither one of them had any experience in romantic intimacy. Thankfully, it was mainly about instinct - 'Nae remembered reading somewhere that sex started in the brain before it did anywhere else. So while she hadn't physically done it, she had imagined doing it. With Tommy. Plus, she had figured out what she liked by experimenting with herself, and while they hadn't actually done the sex act in itself, they had also experimented with each other. And the thought of it made her tremble.

They had been kissing, mussing the sheets on Tommy's bed, and when he'd rolled her onto her back to lightly bite her neck she'd, well... she'd reached down to grab his you-know-what, and that had pretty much started everything. He'd already been very aroused as she'd been able to feel against her leg, and when she'd grabbed him down there his whole body had jerked in surprise. His head had shot back to he could see her face, his dark blue eyes wide with a mixture of shock, arousal and curiosity. She was just as curious as he was; she had never done this before either. Tommy must have sensed her insecurity and helpfully rocked his hips forward to push more of himself into her hands. She didn't think there had been anymore of 'him' - God damn, how the hell were they ever gonna -

Insistently, Tommy rocked his hips again, this time with a muffled groan into her neck that sent a shudder down her spine. He drew his head back to look at her again, his eyes lidded with desire, mouth slightly parted.

She shifted underneath him with pink on her cheeks, "Okay, you let me know what feels good, I've never done this before..."

He failed to look worried by her admission. If anything, he was buzzing with anticipation.

She was a little unnerved by him staring at her so intently; it always made her feel very self aware when he did that. Tommy cocked his head to one side at her pause, then leaned down to gently nuzzle her cheek with his own. A rush of warmth went through her, emboldening her again, and her hands instinctively squeezed him. He groaned huskily into her ear, his hips rocking so forcefully against hers that it nearly took the breath out of her. She gave a squeak of surprise, which dissolved into quiet laughter from the both of them.

Basically, the two of them had ended up naked, touching each other and trying to keep their voices down, so as not to wake anyone else. Something about when Tommy had looked at her with that glazed over pure desire in his eyes... that had really done her in.

It came as a bit of a surprise to her, but he made sure she finished first. She thought Tommy might have been a little timid with his touches, but when she saw that look in his eyes of pure want, completely reserved for her, she realized he'd probably imagined all the things he would do to her too. Those massive hands of his seemed to find their path.

She had actually been about to finish him off- with two hands, of course, he was too big to use just one. He'd been jerking and squeezing the sheets on either side of her head and looked like he was absolutely about to blow... And then he suddenly grabbed her wrists in those monstrous hands of his, forcing her to stop. She looked into his eyes questioningly, and he raised her arms above her head, pressing her wrists down into the pillow. Tommy leaned down to smooch her on the lips, as though he was reassuring her that yes, she had been doing everything right, but now it was her turn.

And then he'd touched her all over.

Keeping quiet/muffling noises had been hard, and she wasn't completely sure she'd been able to catch every single noise that had escaped from her throat, but oh well. Tommy probably sported about fifty new scratch marks on his back from her clawing at him, and a few teeth marks in his shoulder sinews. He had been asking for both of those, really. He'd found her sensitive spots and he'd teased her until she was begging him Tommy, please, I don't wanna scream and wake everyone up!

Then it had been her turn to finish him off, and that had been quite the experience. She found out what made him shudder, what made him curl his fists in the sheets, what made him groan, and what made him make that moan that caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise. When he'd been on the brink, she'd wondered how soaked she was about to become. He was a huge man with a huge dong, and he could probably pump out gallons. And before she had another chance to think about it, he'd blown all over her belly and her chest, shuddering like a giant truck coming to a stop.

Maybe tonight would be the night they took it all the way. God, she wanted to so bad - and she knew he did, too.

Impatiently, she glanced at her phone once more, willing it to be time already. She was so aroused she could barely think straight. 10:19. Finally!

Easing up off the bed, 'Nae practically ran (quietly) to the door to her room, eager to get down the hall and get down on Tommy Hewitt once again.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

AN: I do not own the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise or any of it's characters, but Renae is my own OC. I also do not own the song 'Next Boyfriend by Lauren Alaina.

Story time: Just a quick little drabble I wrote back in 2016. A while back I had a story up on here about Tommy and my oc Renae, called 'In My Blood' - I took it down to revise it, thinking about putting it back up maybe? - and this was written just as a cute scene/drabble. 'Nae and Tommy Hewitt are in an established relationship at this point in this piece, but haven't quite done the deed yet. So, here's that - hope you enjoy!

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hunterssm00n · 5 months

Text

Hello, From the Other Side

Lex reflects back on her experience under the ice in the Pyramid, and remembers the one reason she made it out alive. Set one year after the events that occurred on Bouvetoya Island. | Lex/Scar |

part 1 of 2

my Scar & Lex series on ao3: here

*cw psychological trauma*

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧‎♡‧₊˚

It was quiet.

Not the deadly kind of quiet that precedes an earth-shaking storm, nor the kind that you note in horror movies, where it always seems to be followed by the killer making his next bloody score. This was a peaceful quiet.

However serene this type of silence was, there was always that little voice in Lex's head now that whispered for her to be alert. Ever since the incident ("accident", as the news reports had deemed it) on Bouvetoya Island, this little voice had been constant. It spoke to her in the most un-assuming of times, always reminding her to watch herself. It was rather embaressing at times; especially in front of other people. Going all Amazon-warrior-lady, her eyes scanning every surface, her spine going rigid... It was definitely a way to leave an impression, though not necesarrily one that she would've preferred. She knew it wasn't schizophrenia; she didn't need a doctor to tell her that. Rather, it was a form of post-traumatic stress disorder - a constant survival instinct that, one year later, she still couldn't seem to shake. But then again, the news reports hadn't known the full extent of what had happened, hadn't seen the things she saw. What had occured on Bouvetoya Island was no mere accident.

Who could blame her for being paranoid? She had every right, as the therapist had told her, to feel the way she did. She didn't want this right. She wanted to feel normal again. Wanted to worry about paying her electric bill on time, about what she was going to wear on a date, about what she was going to have for dinner. Not about whether or not there would be a monster lurking around the corner in the hallway of her house, waiting to drag her off into the darkness.

Lex Woods crunched through the snow up the walkway of her little cubby in the forest. The heavy grocery bag in her right hand was nearly weighing her down, as her left hand searched for her house key in her coat pocket. Her fingers found the familiar ridges of a Pepsi-Cola bottlecap, and she knew the key would come out with the cap should she pull the string. She had turned the bottlecap necklace into a makeshift keychain, and it served its purpose as both a practical asset and a memoir.

She inserted the key into the lock on her front door, giving a small smile at the thought of her friend, Sebastian. In the few hours they'd been friends, they'd come to know each other better than she knew most of her female friends she'd been in the company of for years. In an instinctive, survival situation though, it was easy to get to know someone on a deeper level; whether they were a runner or a fighter, how well they did under pressure, how deeply they let their fear affect them.

Stepping inside her house, Lex stomped the snow off of her boots, and gently pushed the door shut. All of the main lights were on in her house, creating a bright, warm atmosphere. Since the incident, Lex had a hard time walking into a completely dark room. She'd taken to leaving lights on even when she wasn't home, just in case she came back after dark, so she wouldn't have to step into the shadows to try and find the lightswitch. She hadn't been kidding about wanting to worry about paying her electric bill - it was more often then not a little outrageous for someone who lived by themself.

Hanging up the bottle cap on the key hook next to her door, she took a moment to study the familiar logo etched on the surface of the cap. Remembering the sardonic way Sebastian had explained how he found it, she gave another small smile. That was a good sign. It had taken her a long time to think about him without crying.

Lex toed her boots off, nudging them with a sock-clad foot over onto the floor mat so they could dry. Heaving the bag of groceries up, she carried it over towards the brightly lit kitchen area while stripping off her winter skins with her free hand. She left her coat on the back of an armchair, along with her hat, scarf, and gloves. Before Bouvetoya, she never would have left it laying around. She was a meticulous person - especially about her space. She kept things very tidy and neat. While her home was still clean, even now, she had stopped caring about little things such as leaving her coat on a chair. Things like that didn't really phase her now, it seemed.

During the process of unloading her groceries, a sudden thundering on her roof nearly had her jumping out of her skin, and she gasped as the blood zapped through her veins like an electric shock. Dropping the bag of apples in her hand, the paper bag practically exploding on impact with the floor, the hand that had been holding them immediately clenched into a fist.

The rumbling seemed to roll down the slope of her roof before thumping to the ground with enough impact to rattle her kitchen window.

She was in front of the window before she even knew what she was doing, and tore back the curtain to reveal whatever was making the noise. An avalanche of snow was seen pouring off the roof onto the ground, then it slowed to a stop with the last pitter patters of the packing, wet substance hitting the ground. Snow. It had been snow. It hadn't been the first time snow had come rocketing down from one of the trees over her house, but she was shaking like it was nothing she'd ever experienced. No. Like it was something she had experienced, and never wanted to go through again.

To make doubly sure, she took a moment to listen for... She didn't know exactly what. For something, anything out of the ordinary. That same, peaceful silence met her ears, her fridge humming being the only other sound besides her pounding heart.

Satisfied that she wasn't in danger, she let the curtain drop to cover the window, and turned back to face the warm, light room. Leaning back against the counter, she tried to calm herself. Placing a hand over her heart, she knelt to sit on the floor, trying in vain to breathe steadily through her nose. The familiar signs of a panic attack flooded to the surface of her mind, and she was just grounded enough to roll her eyes. She was actually having an anxiety attack over snow.

She breathed in through her nose, letting it out through her mouth, leaning her head back against the cupboard to open her windpipe so she could suck in more oxygen. Staring at the cieling, she laid both hands flat on the floor, extending her legs out in front of her. You're fine, you're fine.

And then she thought of him.

He was always in the back of her mind, and who could blame her for keeping his memory alive? He had been her warrior partner through the crucial climactic point of their survival journey under (and later, above) the ice. She had saved his life, and he had saved hers. Back to back, together they had fought their way out of the maze of the Pyramid. He was a prescence in her mind, and at times like this, he pushed to the front of her brain like an emergency responder, trying to revive her. Physically, he was not there, but he lived on in her memory. During her "moments" like this, the thought of him always either made her feel better, or worse.

Better, because he had essentially saved her life. She liked to think she would have survived without him, but in reality, she knew she would not have. Her savior had protected her, helped her back onto her feet when she had been knocked down, had done the impossible and ensured her survival. And that was usually where the 'worse' feelings began - the fact that she had been the lone survivor.

It was a psychological thing, she knew. She longed for him to once again help her through her fear, to stand her up and brush her off. She ached for it, sometimes. He had been there, experienced this horror with her. He had made her feel safe - not in the lovey-dovey, soap opera, romance novel kind of way, but literally. She had felt the reassurance of safety, being with someone who could face those monsters, and was more than capable of destroying them. She'd seen him do it. The thought of him was the only thing that made her feel safe anymore. And he was gone.

During her panicked moments, she held onto the thought of him like a lifeline, and it made her ache to think that that was all he would every be; a thought. A distant memory of someone she had only known for a few hours, but had left more of an imprint on her mind than anyone she'd ever known. Sebastian had been a handsome, charming, wonderful person, and Lex could definitely have seen herself remaining his close friend, had he survived Bouvetoya.

But it was not Sebastian she thought of when she awoke from her nightmares.

Lex had one hand on her heart as it started to calm, and the other moved to cover her forehead as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. The way the mind worked under moments that relied only on instinct, the things people never realized about themselves until they were placed under that pressure... Lex had realized that she, like him, was a warrior. He wouldn't have marked her cheek with his barbaric, warrior symbol had she not been. But since they had been through such an intense situation together, and he had been the only one to make it to the surface with her, she now had a terrible time dealing with any thought of Bouvetoya without his memory. It was crazy, and silly, she knew. But she missed him. That was probably, she thought bitterly, another side-effect of her post-traumatic, whatever. Placing all of her emotions and distress onto him, putting all of her faith into him, trusting him to keep her safe, even now, when he wasn't here.

She didn't even know his real name (only her nickname for him, based on the mark he had given both of them once they reached the surface), but she knew his prescence. It was unforgettable. She pined for that prescence in her moments of fear.

A small noise escaped her throat, and she let out a shakey breath. "I'm sorry," she whispered, another whimper following her words, "I'm so, so sorry." Sorry that she hadn't been strong enough to protect him, as he had done for her.

After a few more minutes of steady breathing, Lex finally dried her eyes, and picked herself up off the ground.

"This can't be healthy, missing a dead alien from another freakin' galaxy," she muttered, trying to lighten her mood. "Not good for someone's health, at all."

Lex bent to pick up one of the many apples scattered across her kitchen floor, when another crashing noise came from her roof. She jumped, then shook her head, "Snow, you idiot, it's snow."

Then, what sounded like something crawling, on hands and feet, scaling the slope of her roof. Lex frowned. It was snow, right?

Holding her breath, she heard the steady thump, bump reach the edge of her roof, and then came to a THUD right outside the front of her house. She would've ran and hid, or even fainted in terror, had she not heard a familiar chittering, clicking noise coming from outside.

It can't be. She had heard that noise enough to know what it meant; it was something she could never forget. Lex walked slowly towards the door, one foot in front of the other, but she didn't even make it there before the damn thing was kicked open, slamming against the wall with enough force to rattle the windows, yet again.

She shrieked, jumping back a few feet, putting the kitchen island between her and whatever was about to come through the door. In no time at all, as though she was in danger and it was coming to her aid, a massive, hulking figure flew through the doorway, nearly smashing both walls down in it's haste. It was a blur, until it landed steadily on the floor a few feet away from the wide open entrance to her house. Then, only then, was she able to comfirm her suspicion.

It was a - well, whatever her companion had been. She noted the smooth, black dreadlocks that adorned it's head, as well as it's massive size, even crouched down, like it was now. Then the creature lifted it's head to look at her, and rose to it's full height. She gasped, unable to stop the noise even if she'd been in the right frame of mind to do so. Her heart pounded still, but in a completely different way, this time. Not out of fear, but out of disbelief; out of, dare she think it, excitement.

"Scar?"

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧‎♡‧₊˚

AN: I do not own the Alien vs Predator franchise or any of it's characters. I also do not own the song 'Hello' by Adele.

part two

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