Poly creature x reader quotes. 1
Bu-oyd: You are not good enough for my daughter. And I don't want you around her. End. Of. Story.
Creature: ...So why don't you give me one mor-.
Bu-oyd: *Shuts curtain.*.

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@noiamnothuman
Poly creature x reader quotes. 1
Bu-oyd: You are not good enough for my daughter. And I don't want you around her. End. Of. Story.
Creature: ...So why don't you give me one mor-.
Bu-oyd: *Shuts curtain.*.
Stalker!Sonar x quiet!Reader headcannons. (NSFW)
- Stalker!Sonar wasn’t sure about targeting you. The first time he saw you was in a Library, huddled up in a bean bag with your book of choice. You didn’t say much of anything to him when he sat down next to you and conversed.
It was so intriguing for him. Why were you so quiet? Why didn’t you want to talk to the Sonar? Would you even care if he followed you around or would it end badly for him?
- Stalker!Sonar who couldn’t resist the soft energy you had. So kind and quiet to him (your loved ones which he watched you talk to, not really him, but he’s delusional) in a way that he loved.
- Stalker!Sonar that followed your every move. If he was any normal person it would be so difficult, but with echolocation and your entire bank account unlocked, it was an easy task.
- Stalker!Sonar who fists his cock to you over and over again. He can’t help it when he watches you pace around your kitchen to bake something for your new neighbor on the camera he set up.
What a shame that someone else didn’t get the apartment next to yours before he did, but atleast you’ll always be right there for him to watch.
\Closet Buddies.| Part Two.
Wireface x Reader.
Summary: Reader finds herself alone in the closet once again not knowing where her little roomate had went. So she takes a look around. Growing bored, she spends the rest of her time looking at a photo of her and a dearest friend. Not knowing that this photo could lead her into a growing friendship with said roomate as he catches her moping over the polaroid.
Warning:None
(Do not ask me why my fonts keep changing in each part it is hard to remember what is what.).
You do not recall what had happened.
You awoke to the sounds of shuffling, sweat prickling at the back of your neck indicating the sun had taken it's place in the sky.
The room was empty. The foreign man, which you had nicknamed wireface due to the metal stitches around his mouth, was no where to be seen.
You decided to take a good look around the closet you were in, making the most out of your alone time before he gets back, if he's coming back.
Getting up, all you could see was a load of dusty boxes on wooden shelves that looked over used, like they would bust and break any second. All the boxes looked aged, the home-owner must have not cared about whatever was stored inside.
Blowing dust of the top of one of the boxes, there was a worn down label, seemed like whatever was written had been smudged off. You could only feel sad, why had so many boxes been left to collect thick matts of dust for so long?
.
You had lost interest, there was not much to actually see.
Deciding to find something else to do, you had emptied your bag of its innards. You had one bottle of water, a sketch book with a sharpener, rubber and three pencils, a photo of you and your childhood friend and scissors.
You barely had time to sketch anything since you were constantly jumping from shelter to shelter, home to home. And you did not have time at all to be crafting, the scissors were meant to reassure safety upon you so atleast you felt protected.
But that grounding effect did not help when the person threatening you is pointing a shot gun in your face.
Picking up the photo, your heart drops to your stomach.
Seeing the face of your childhood friend saddens you, you remeber the last time you saw him was a week before the sun had decided to scold half of humanity and a quarter of the Earths plains. You had tried to call him but he was unavailable.
The last time you saw him you had went out to grab lunch, but you left in a hurry a few minutes after ordering because your work had called you for personal reasons.
It was not that important really, you just were really low on money and took every opportunity to earn even a single dollar.
If only you were not that desperate, you just wished you stayed a little longer.
.
Immersed at looking at the polaroid, you failed to notice wireface had stepped back in the room.
You were only brought back to reality when you felt a pair of eyes burning softly into your head.
Looking up, you slightly flinch at the sudden arrival of the foreign man.
When did he come back?
.
He eyed the photo in your hand, eyes flicking from the photo to your face.
It seemed he was confused on what was on the photo, and why you were so entranced by it.
"I uh...I miss my friend...The last time I saw him wa- well it's silly really. I miss him when I am the one that left him in that diner..." You trailed off trying to explain what's so important with a photo. You were to deep in your thoughts you forgot that he did not understand a word you were saying.
He raised an eyebrow, but he looked more concerned then confused.
You showed him the photo. Pointing at yourself on the photo and to yourself in the present.
It was a beautiful scene. You both had arms wrapped around eachother, smiling like time did not matter. He held the camera as you had a umbrella above you shielding you both from the sun, a bright tropical beach in the backround.
Ah, that's right. It was your 23rd birthday. He had taken you to Australia during the summer time. It was the best day in your young adult years.
Right before you took the photo you remember petting a dog and getting ice cream at a small vendor. He had made a joke about how the sun was so hot it felt like it had exploded...Ironically...
Looking at wireface as he had his eyes trained on the photo, he looked almost shocked. Pointing at your friend.
"Svb R pmld srn!(Hey I know him!)." He had said in a shouted whisper, repeatedly pointing at your friend in the photo back and forth.
It was almost comedic on how much your head had tilted in confusion. Now you know how he felt when you and everyone else had spoken to him.
He noticed your confusion. Pointing at your friend in the photo and then to himself. "Frimd. Frend? Friend!" He said again, pointing at himself then the photo back and forth.
Your eyes widened a bit. Did they know eachother?
You pulled the photo a few inches towards you, while he moved his hands to dig in his jeans pocket, pulling out a different photo.
He showed it to you, pointing at it repeatedly, you heard his nails tapping rapidly on the polaroids film coverage.
.
You could not believe it, it was a photo of wireface on a balcony with a guy that looks uncannily like your best friend.
You thought maybe it was a double ganger, maybe he recognised they looked alike and wanted to show you. Whatever it was, you were hella confused. You knew your friend always had another friend who was born in Georgia, but that's as far as your knowledge goes. You never actually met any of your best friends buddies, nor did you feel like meeting them, you just were not social enough to work on new alliances.
You did not believe that it was your friend. So what if he had the same eyes. And the same mole. That haircut is well known and that bracelet- was a friendship bracelet he made you both...?
.
You did not believe it...It WAS your friend.
Wireface saw your face drop, he definitely could tell you figured it out.
Whilst being frozen on the spot, you felt a hand land on your shoulder softly. Looking at him, he had a wide smile on his face. Taking his hand off of your shoulder to point at your bracelet, then back at the photo. Bringing it slightly closer to his own face, just a few metres away to inspect it himself.
His smile softened.
"R zodzbh pmvd zylfg zmlgsvi uirvmw sv szw hrmxv tildrmt fk, sv zodzbh gzopvw zylfg gibrmt gl rmgilwfxv fh lmv wzb.(I always knew about another friend he had since growing up, he always talked about trying to introduce us one day.)." He said, turning his face up to look at you.
You had no idea what he just said, but he seemed happy about you both knowing the same person. His smile widened in joy.
"R zn szkkb R tlg gl urmzoob nvvg blf...Vevm ru rg dzh olxpvw rm z xolhvg gibrmt gl hfierev.(I am happy I got to finally meet you...Even if it was locked in a closet trying to survive.)."
You tilted your head in confusion, was he ranting? Did he ask you something?
Noticing your confusion, he cleared his throat and stood up straight, taking one last look at the photo before putting it back into his pocket.
He turned his attention back at you before he started speaking again.
He pointed his finger at you, and then to himself. "Friends?" He said clearly. Fingers continually pointing back and forth between you two. It was obvious what he was asking. He wanted to be friends, or atleast you think.
You took the risk and nodded your head, he seemed to grow brighter at that, his face was beaming to the point you did not know what was brighter. His smile or the sun outside?
He took one of your hands in his as he shook it, wide smile on his face. It was almost like the end of the world was not happening outside currently, his smile was so infectious it almost made you forget what was happening.
"Svool mvd uirvmw!(Hello new friend!)." You were confused, but none the less, you grew a smile and shook his hand back. Looks like you made a closet buddy.
Note:Sorry for being gone so long. I hope this was enough to satisfy your hunger for my closet buddies story with wireface. I do not know if my writing has gotten any better or if it had gotten worse. I know it is a little shorter then something I would usually write. I promise part three will be longer! But none the less I hope you all enjoy!
hello!! I hope you're doing well! I recently read your smiley one shot and it was so GOOD. I was wondering if you'd be up to writing one for the cowboy creature? it can be smut or whatever you'd like!
This is so long awaited and I’m so sorry. I’ve gotten so many requests for Cowboy Creature and I’ve been slackin. I hope this satiates your hungers❤️🩹
Cowboy Creature (From) x Reader
Darlin’
You become entangled with the monster who wears the face of a cowboy. He doesn’t want your death, he wants your devotion. Each visit pulls you deeper into his darkness, until you can no longer tell where fear ends and desire begins.
Warnings: 18+, p in v, oral, blood, biting
Sleep won’t come, just as it hasn’t for many nights now. How many, you can’t even remember.
The house breathes around you like a beast. The wind claws at the eaves and the boards groan. You try the old tricks, counting sheep, tracing knots, but the quiet refuses to soften.
You shouldn’t look. Everyone in town says the same thing: don’t look out your window after dark. But the pull is there. It’s grows more intense with each passing night, with each dream. There’s a thread around your ribs, tugging you to the shudders like a fish hooked on a line.
You peel them open an inch.
He stands in the road the way a silo towers in a field. His hat brim is low, thumbs hooked on his belt. Not moving. Not breathing.
The moon is stingy tonight, offering only thin light, but you can still see it. Somehow the light still finds the line of his grin.
You hold your breath, as if in fear that he could somehow hear it. Though, is it truly fear? You aren’t so sure, and that thought is terrifying in itself. He’s a monster. You should be afraid.
He tilts his head. It is such a simple motion, yet it is all wrong. It mimics that of a puppet tested on strings.
The shutters click back into place. Your hands shake, chest tight. You lean against the wall, taking deep breaths, until your tremors subside.
He’ll move on, you tell yourself. They wander. They drift. He’ll wander.
You last an hour before you check again. Then another. Then the sky begins to grey with the beginning of dawn. He is still there, hammered like a nail to the heart of town.
Only as the first bird chirps does he finally move. He lifts two fingers to the brim of his hat in a gesture that might once have been courteous. Then he turns and vanishes.
By the second night you are so exhausted that you fall asleep before dinner. You're pulled into the familiar dream. The one that you see every time you close your eyes.
The road, the hat brim, the scythe-curve grin. He does not chase you and you do not feel fear. Cicadas sing all around you. You are pulled to him, not even realizing your feet are moving. In a matter of seconds you are face to face, so close that the brim of his hat cuts your vision. The only thing visible is his smile. The thick scent of leather and old cologne floods your senses. He raises a gloved hand, brushing it along your cheek, your jaw. Your lips part at the heat that follows his touch.
You gasp when that hand wraps around your throat, pulling you closer. With every breath your chest caresses his. His lips are soft as they brush your ear, his breath sending chills down your spine.
"Hello, Darlin'. I've been waitin' for you."
You jolt up right, the rush of blood making the room tilt. Your hand finds your throat and you sigh when you realize it wasn't real. You take in your room, silent and swallowed by night. The only light is from the moon shining through the slats of the shudders. You run your hands down your face, forcing your breathing to even.
You know sleep will not come again tonight. So, instead of fighting the impossible battle, you decide to make yourself a cup of tea. Your skin pricks at the chill of your barefeet on the wood floor. Your nightgown brushes mid thigh as you make your way to the kitchen.
You can't help but pace as the kettle brews on the stove, chewing your thumb nail. You replay the dream over and over. His smell, his breath, his voice. You hate yourself for the tingle in your belly. You're sick that it's even a temptation. Then you think about how he watches you. The same spot on the same road night after night. He never falters. He never fails to show. You fight an ever losing battle to not look out the window.
Then you hear it. The patient thud of boots. The creak of your porch. You do not look. You stare at a knot in the wood on your counter as your stomach tightens. Your heart pounds like a drum.
Knuckles brush the window and a lump forms in your throat. The blinds tremble, the same as your hands. You don't move.
His voice is low through the wood. "Darlin'."
Your skin pebbles. It heats and chills at the same time. He should not know the cadence of endearment. He is a monster. He is a monster.
You repeat it over and over. Perhaps if you say it enough, you'll believe it.
"Open the door."
"No." It slips out without your permission. A lit match in deep water.
The silence that follows is crowded with his attention. You feel it like a hand under your chin.
"Then at least let me see you," he drawls. You gulp, walking to the window. Your mind is screaming to stop, yet your hand keeps pulling. It pulls and pulls until the blinds are raised and you're fully exposed. He smiles, his head falling to the side. "Well, don't you look pretty."
Your mouth opens then closes. Heat blooms in your chest. It is embarrassment and anger. Shame at the want, rage at how his voice alone makes your stomach flutter. You yank down the blinds as if you can pull the world outside away.
He taps the glass. It punctuates the sound of your heart that floods your ears. You press your palm flat to the blinds where the tap echoes. Through the slits, you see his hand do the same.
"Why do you keep coming?" you whisper. You don't expect an answer. You don't even know if he heard you. Besides, monsters don't give explanations. You want it anyway. You want to know. You have to know.
A soft, amused hum. "You know, I could've had you the first night you arrived. You remember that?"
Your car broke down on the side of the road, like many in this town. You saw the hat, heard the boots. You called for help, hoping someone was here to save you. As he got closer and your headlights shown upon him, you saw the blood. It coated his hands, dripped down his chin. You ran, screamed and banged on the closest door. You had never felt fear like that.
"I remember." You let out a shaky breath. "But that's not an answer."
He taps the window with his index finger. "Let me see you, and maybe I'll give you one." A bargain you can't refuse, and he knows it. You do as he says, revealing yourself to him once more. His smile grows as his eyes trail down, then back up. "I could've split you open that night. Could've tasted you. Your blood." He pauses licking his lips, as if he's imagining the taste of it. "But I'm not hungry for your blood. No. I'm hungry for the sounds you make when you breathe, the way your heart beats faster when I'm near. You hear it, don't you? The way it beats for me." His smile spreads like wildfire. "I don't want to kill you, Darlin’. I want to keep you."
You look away. You have to. You don’t know what to say or how to feel. Something in you wants to slam the blinds down, bolt all the doors, and bury yourself under a mountain of blankets and sleep forever. Something else, more ridiculous… more traitorous, wants to open the door. You breathe in, exhale a breath, then force your eyes upon him once more.
He’s closer now. Close enough that the brim of his hat kisses the window. You take in his features, his blue eyes and crooked grin.
This is wrong. You can’t help but think it. You can’t stop yourself from making sure you believe it.
“You should stop.” Your voice cracks at the last word.
His finger slides down the glass, drawing a slow arc. “Stop?” He repeats. “Stop what, Sugar? Comin’ around? Watchin’ you? Keepin’ you safe from things that’ll hurt you?” His tone is almost solicitous, which is worse somehow.
“You’re the thing that will hurt me. You’re… kind.”
He laughs then. It is low and rich. “You have nothin’ to fear from my kind.” He punctuates the last two words, chuckling again. “Like I said, I’m protectin’ you.” His eyes seem to darken as he speaks the last words. “You’re mine.” There is no malice in the way he says it. It is a statement. A fact. It is the air you now breathe.
“You need to leave,” you say, but it holds less conviction than you’d hoped.
Instead of answering, he taps the window again. It is three, soft rhythms. A code you do not know, yet somehow understand. Then he steps back, a small retreat that leaves a space on the porch where the night now seems hollow. He turns, making it to the end of your porch, but right before he descends the steps, he turns. That smile on his face returns.
“You’d do right to remember what I told you. You’re mine now, Darlin’. Nothin’ you can do about it.” With that, he tips his hat, then disappears into the black.
Come morning, you find something tucked into the crack where the shutter meets the frame. A white daisy. It’s stem is bent, as if plucked without care, but the petals are untouched.
You lift it slowly, fingers shaking. The air smells faintly of that familiar leather and cologne. It clings to the flower.
It should mean nothing, but in his hand… it has become something else. It is not harmless. It is not sweet.
It is a claim.
You press the daisy flat between the pages of your favorite book, ashamed of the care you give it.
All day, you swear you feel it’s presence in the room. All night, you imagine his grin as he left it there.
He is there night after night. He comes and goes like a tide. You hear the taps on the glass, you open your shudders and watch one another. Every night you have the same dream, though his voice gets nearer, his hands feel more real. You wake with the ghost of his touch on your cheek, your neck. It’s a phantom imprint that you find yourself missing during the day. You look forward to the daisies that you find on your windowsill when you wake.
One night, you can’t bear the waiting, you open the shutter an inch. A hand presses to the other side. Something inside you rebels. It’s small, quiet. It’s not loud enough to overturn the uncertainty that tightens your gut, but it’s the start.
“Evenin’, Darlin’.” Your stomach flutters, skin pricks. You feel your cheeks go hot and you turn your head down so he doesn’t see. “Look at me,” he demands, though it is soft… gentle. You inhale, holding the air in your chest. Chills trickle down your spine, but your head lifts. You square your shoulders, raise your chin, pulling on a mask of confidence. He smiles, drinking you in. “Good.”
“Thank you… for the-for the flowers.” You don’t know why you say it, but you want him to know that they mean something. Even though they shouldn’t. Even though you should throw them away… but you can’t.
He chuckles. “I’m glad you like ‘em.”
“Why do you keep bringing them?”
His head tilts in that puppet like way. “They remind me of you. So delicate, so fragile. I could crush them so easily, or-“ He pauses, let’s you come up with your own ideas of what he could say. Let’s you imagine what he could decide to do to you.
You gulp down the knot in your throat. “Or what?”
He clicks his tongue. “Open the door, and you’ll find out.”
“I… I can’t.” He taps the glass.
“Come on, Darlin’. How much longer are we gonna play cat and mouse? Just let me in. I know you want to.” You chew your bottom lip, weighing the pros and cons. He could kill you. He could torture you. Or… “You’ll feel better if you come outside. I promise, Darlin’.”
You find yourself crawling off your bed and walking to the front door. A moment later, you see him pass the window.
One, two, three knocks on the wood. This is it. This is the decision you’ve been fighting for so long. You feel like you’re going to vomit, your hands are trembling. You smooth out your nightgown, your palms sweaty.
The cold metal of the knob bites your skin. It creaks as you twist. Night air brushes your cheeks, the shadow of him looms over you. You lift your gaze, eyes meeting those familiar blue ones. His smile cuts sharp across his face.
You look at the floor. Your fingers worry at the hem of your nightgown, the fabric going through the same nervous motions as the rest of your body.
His fingers are cool as they lift up your chin. It’s simple contact, yet it sends a current through your bones. His thumb brushes your chin, your bottom lip. Then they slide across your jaw, down your neck. You suck in a breath, tilting to give him better access.
“Such a pretty little thing.” His touch dances across where dress meets chest. Then, they stop over your heart. He holds it there for a moment, feeling each beat. “Inside,” he says softly, applying just enough pressure to make you step back. He kicks the door shut with a boot, never taking his eyes off of you. His hand is still on your chest, fingers spread over your heartbeat. The heat of it sinks into your skin, ribs, bones. His thumb drags over the hollow spot where collarbone meets throat. "Every beat is faster when I'm near."
You want to speak, want to deny him, push him away, but your tongue is thick in your mouth. He tilts your chin again, ensuring you never lose eye contact.
The brim of his hat shadows you both as he leans down, slow enough that you could step back, run, scream. You do none of those things. You stand frozen, shaking... waiting. His lips brush your temple, then hovers over your ear.
"Say it," he breathes. "Say you're mine."
Your throat tightens. "No. You-You're a monster."
He laughs and it is low and warm. The sound rumbles through his chest into yours. "Maybe, but you're the one who let me in. You chose this." His hand leaves your chest to wrap around your waist, pulling you against him in one swift motion. You gasp, your palms flattening against his chest. The world shrinks to leather, cologne, and the dangerous press of your body against his.
His grin ghosts against your cheek. It steals the ground from beneath you. His thumb brushes your lip again. You don't resist when he tips your face even higher. His mouth hovers a breath from yours. Your heart slams, your body betrays you, and you close the last inch of distance.
The kiss is soft. He cradles the back of your neck, holding you where he wants you. Every shiver in your body only feeds his grin as he deepens the kiss, drinking you in like he's been waiting a lifetime.
When he pulls back, it's only to murmur against your lips, "Bed. Now."
He guides you backward through the darkened room, never breaking the press of your bodies. Your knees hit the edge of the bed. The air leaves your lungs in a gasp as you sink onto it. You look up at him looming above you, tall, broad, framed in the dim light.
He follows you down, careful and unhurried, lowering his weight over you. His hand braces beside your head, his grin sharp, but his touch — when it strokes your cheek, your jaw, your collarbone — is almost tender.
His lips claim you again, harder this time. The brim of his hat falls away as his body crowds yours against the mattress. His hand tangles in your hair, holding your head still, while the other drags over the curve of your hip, anchoring you.
Your breath comes fast, and he drinks it in with every kiss, every sharp tilt of his grin against your mouth. You clutch at his shirt, trembling, wanting to drag him closer... knowing you should push him away. He chuckles into the kiss.
"I like the way you tremble for me." His palm finds the hollow of your throat once more, feeling your pulse jump under his touch. He lowers his head until his nose grazes your temple, then your jaw. His breath is hot against your skin. "Say you're mine." Your hands move without thinking, fisting in the fabric of his shirt. You’re not sure if you’re clinging to him or bracing against him, but either way, he smiles, satisfied. He leans in again, mouth at your ear. "I'm gonna take my time with you, Darlin'."
The hand at your throat slides down your collarbone to the edge of your nightgown, pausing there. He kisses you again — slower now, teeth just grazing your lower lip — until you’re trembling under him once more.
The nightgown has ridden high on your thighs, fabric bunched and forgotten as the weight of him cages you in. When he speaks, it’s low, rough, a vow and a threat in one: “I’m gonna take what’s mine. You’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”
The question coils in the air, thick and heavy, though you know it isn’t really a question. Your lips part. You could deny him, you could scream, you could push him away. Instead you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding.
His grin sharpens. “That’s my girl.”
His mouth claims yours with the kind of patience that makes you ache, drawing the air from your lungs until all that’s left is him. The scrape of his teeth on your lip steals a gasp from you, and his grin curves against your mouth, pleased.
His hand traces the line of your nightgown. Fingers curl under, just barely, tugging the fabric up a fraction. It’s a tease, a reminder that he’s in control.
A shiver races through you, and you arch into his touch before you can stop yourself. Your hands, useless at your sides, finally find him, pulling, as if you can anchor yourself against the tide he brings with him. You breathe against his mouth is shaky and desperate. Your chest rises to press into his with every inhale.
He chuckles low in his throat, lips brushing yours. “That’s it, darlin’. Don’t fight it.”
One of his hands captures both of yours, fingers wrapping easily around your wrists. He presses them gently above your head, not enough to hurt but enough to remind you how easily he could. The grip is firm, controlled.
The other hand never stops its path. it slips higher and higher up your thighs, pushing the gown up until it rests at your waist.
“Such a pretty thing…” he murmurs, voice low, a dark purr near your ear. His thumb strokes a circle over your panties. Your eyes flutter shut “Every beat of you’s mine now…” You quiver under him, hips shifting unconsciously, but his hold on your wrists steadies you, pins you to the moment. “Look at me while I touch you.”
Your eyes flick open, caught in the blue of his. It feels like staring into winter sky and fire at the same time. His fingers squeeze just a fraction tighter. His smile curves slow and satisfied when you hold his gaze.
“That’s it,” he breathes. “Tell me you want this,” he murmurs, lips at your sternum, voice vibrating through you. “Say you’re mine.”
Your breath catches; the room tilts. You squeeze your eyes shut but the words still reach you, low and insistent. A sound escapes you. It is a half gasp, half whimper, and you nod, a trembling, tiny motion.
“Say it,” he repeats, softer, coaxing.
“I…” The word sticks in your throat. “I want this.”
His smile curves against your skin. “And?”
You swallow, shivering. “I’m yours.”
He chuckles low, a sound of possession and satisfaction, and presses a lingering kiss just above your heart. “Good girl.”
Every time you inhale, your chest brushes his; every time you exhale, his breath fills your lungs. His hand shoves your underwear to the side, exposing you to him. One finger slides down your center and he groans at the feeling of you. You watch as he lifts his index finger, which glistens in the moon light, and sucks it. His eyes close as he savors the taste of you.
"Sweet," he murmurs, voice rough with hunger. His grip on your wrists loosens and he lowers himself, placing kisses from you navel, to your hips, to your thighs, to-
You moan, gripping his hair in your hands when his tongue drags over you. Your back arches off the bed, eyes rolling back. His arms wrap around your thighs, holding you, stilling you, as he sucks on your clit, rolling it between his teeth. It is pleasure and pain.
You fingers tighten in his hair as if you’re holding onto the only solid thing left in the room. He makes a sound that is half chuckle, half purr, and the vibration of it heightens the sensation.
He lifts his head just enough for his breath to ghost across your skin. His lips graze the inside of your thigh. Then it’s his tongue. He sucks the skin of your inner thigh and you moan, head falling back. You feel his teeth clamp and-
“Ow!” You jolt up, scooting back. You watch his tongue glide over his red canine, eyes rolling back.
You look to the mark on your thigh, a perfect crescent of teeth, small beads of blood welling up like dew. The sight freezes you more than the pain ever could.
His head tilts slow and animalistic. The blue of his eyes have deepened, almost black now. He drags his thumb through the blood and lifts it to the light. The gesture is reverent, almost worshipful. Then he looks at you, gaze fixed and hungry.
“Couldn’t help it,” he murmurs. His voice is rougher, rasping at the edges. “You taste like sunlight. Like life. I ain’t had that in a long time.”
You pull the blanket toward you, covering your legs. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”
He smiles, shaking his head. “I said I wouldn’t kill you.” He grabs the blanket, but doesn’t pull it. “Besides, I didn’t mean to, Darlin’. You’re just so… perfect.” He tugs the blanket a fraction. “Let me see it.” You shake your head, pressing the blanket tighter. “Please.” The word sounds strange in his mouth. He crouches, eyes locked on yours, his expression caught between hunger and remorse. “If I wanted to take more, I would’ve. You know that.”
You ease it away just enough to show the mark. His gaze flickers, jaw tightening. He touches the edge of the wound with careful fingers and you feel the heat there. It send chills up your thighs, to your core.
“You can have more if you want.” You don’t know why you say it. You’re crazy for offering. You’re insane. But the way he licked his lips, the hunger in his gaze, it lit a fire deep in your belly.
He goes still. A slow breath escapes him. “Careful, Darlin’. You don’t know what you’re offerin’.” He leans in until his face is a shadow against the dim light. The hunger in his eyes shifts, cooling from appetite to fascination. “It’s not all about blood.”
“Then what is it?” You don’t recognize your own voice; it sounds distant, like it belongs to someone braver or more foolish.
His hand finds your jaw, thumb brushing your pulse. “It’s that part of you that says yes. It’s the darkness in you. That’s why I can’t stay away. I smell it every time you breathe. That’s what I want.”
“Then take it.”
His thumb traces the line of your throat, stopping where he can feel your pulse hammering against his touch. “I won’t take it,” he whispers. “I’ll feed it.”
You should pull back, but you don’t. The air between you is too thick, the pull too strong. “Then do it.” He hesitates and you question why. It’s as if he wants to ensure this is what you want. “Please.”
The sound that leaves him is part sigh, part growl. Then he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. The contact is almost tender — too human for what he is.
His hands are on your thighs, pulling you down. His hands are quick with his belt. It’s pulled through the loops and tossed on the floor. His pant button pops, zipper slid down, and jeans tugged to his knees. He’s fully exposed in front of you, cock hard against his stomach.
His head falls between your thighs and his tongue laps up the blood that has trickled down. You moan, but the sensation is short lived. His rough hands grab your knees, spreading your legs open.
His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth as he soaks in the sight of you. He leans over, hands going to either side of your head. You hold your breath when you feel yourself stretch around him. Your teeth clench, hands fisting his shirt.
He takes no time pulling out, then thrusting back in.
You moan, back arching, eyes rolling. Your fingers dig into his chest and he growls.
His lips find your neck. He sucks and kisses. His thrusts become faster, harder. There’s a sharp pinch and you know it’s the sinking of his teeth into your neck.
“God, Darlin’,” his groan is rich and deep. “You taste so sweet.”
The mix of pain and pleasure is blinding. It’s all consuming. You belly tightens as your fingers rip at his shirt. You need it off. You need to feel his skin.
He chuckles, ripping his shirt open. Buttons go flying and clinking. He tugs at your nightgown and you lift enough so he can pull it over your head.
Every thrust hits deeper and deeper. Every sensation tingles. The room is a mess of moans and skin against skin.
His teeth find your nipple and your nails tear down his back. His hands grip your hips, squeezing and pulling you further onto his cock.
Pressure builds and builds until you’re at the point of combustion.
“I can’t,” you whimper.
“It’s okay, Darlin’. But look at me. I want to see what I do to you.” You look at him, soak in the mess of brown hair that sticks to his forehead, the blood that coats his lips. It sends you over the edge.
You succumb to the tension. Your muscles contract in rhythmic waves. Your breathing quickens, heartbeat spikes, and a rush of intense warmth spreads through every fiber of your being.
You are left in a drizzly clarity and you feel as if you are floating.
A hand wipes at your sweat-soaked hair. “That’s my girl. Just breathe, Darlin’.” His voice is velvet and gravel all at once. You can feel the pull of him — the wrongness and the want tangled together — until you’re not sure which one is stronger. His weight settles half on you, half beside you. Your chest is still heaving. Your throat is raw from sounds you don’t remember making. Your thighs are aching, pulsing with aftershocks. Your pulse hasn’t come down yet. He seems pleased by that.
You feel his breath first. Warm against your neck, steady. Then his mouth. He presses a slow kiss there.
You feel post-sex clarity creeping in and you try your best to shove it down. To ignore that little voice screaming at you, hating you.
You don’t regret what you’ve done. You didn’t want it to end and you find yourself wondering when it will happen again. Still, there’s that voice. Maybe it’s the light fighting the darkness. Maybe this is what he meant when he said he’d feed it, because you find that voice growing fainter.
Part of you wants to hold onto it.
You feel his arm slide under you, pulling you in. He lays you against him like he’s arranging you where you belong, tucking you against his chest with easy familiarity, your body fit tight to his. One of his hands strokes lazily up and down your spine, slow passes that make you shiver even though you’re already shaking.
You swallow. Your mouth is dry. Your voice barely makes it out. “You… shouldn’t be here.”
He huffs a small laugh against your throat — more felt than heard. “Sweet thing,” he rumbles, “I ain’t leavin’ you alone after that.”
Your fingers curl in his shirt.
“I shouldn’t have let you in,” you whisper.
He hums like you’ve just said something cute. “Mm. You keep sayin’ that, but you opened the door, laid yourself down for me, and begged.” The smile in his voice sharpens.
Heat crawls up your neck. Shame, yes — but not just shame. Something else. Something molten and dizzying.
“I didn’t—” you start, then stop, because you did. You don’t know what’s worse: that you did, or that he’s going to make sure you never forget it.
His thumb slips under your chin, tilting your face up toward his. He wants you looking at him. He always wants you looking at him.
Those inhuman blue eyes meet yours in the low light. He’s focused on you like he worships every line of your face.
“Listen close,” he says softly, almost gentle. “You ain’t gotta be scared of me. You understand?”
Your brow pulls, tired and confused. “You— you said you could’ve killed me.”
“I could’ve.” He grins, slow, lazy, pleased with himself. “But I didn’t. I won’t.”
“You just want to keep me, right?” You raise a brow.
“I am keepin’ you.” His voice lowers, the edges of it turning quiet and dangerous. “Ain’t nobody takin’ you from me. Ain’t nothin’ touchin’ you. You’re mine now. That means you’re safe.”
He nuzzles his nose against your cheek, and for a terrible, vertiginous second it feels… tender. That’s the worst of it. You could have handled cruelty. You could have gathered yourself against sharpness. But this?
This is soft.
This is a vow.
He drags his mouth along your jaw, slow, lingering. “Sleep,” he says. “I’ll watch.”
Your body should not relax under that.
It does.
You’re too wrung out to fight the way your muscles finally let go. Too spent to brace yourself against the way your breathing slowly evens under the rhythm of his palm and the steady drag of thumb over the back of your neck. Too dazed not to melt into his chest when he shifts, pulling you in tighter, making you fit to him perfectly, like you were carved to slot there.
Some part of you, the part that is still sane, still yours, whispers that you can’t let this happen again. That it’s not too late. That this is where you draw a line.
That part is quiet.
Quieter than his heartbeat under your ear.
Quieter than his voice in your hair when you’re already drifting.
“Goodnight, my little daisy,” he hums, and your eyes finally close.
You wake to morning and find yourself alone.
The space beside you is still warm, faintly, like he was there not long ago. The sheets are creased around where his body had been, weight pressed into the mattress like a stamp. Your throat is sore. Your limbs are heavy. Your pulse starts to trip all over again when memory returns in pieces, out of order — his mouth, his hands, his voice in your ear.
You sit up too fast.
Something pale catches your eye.
There, on the pillow next to you, right where his head would have rested, is a daisy.
The stem is bent, sloppy, like it was yanked up and brought to you without care. But the petals are perfect. Not a single one torn.
You stare at it.
You chest tightens when you realize it was left on his side of the bed, where his head would’ve been. A placeholder until he returns.
Your throat works. You swallow. There’s a pulse in your neck you can feel with your own fingertips — faster than it should be. You think of his palm there, heavy. You think of the way he told you: Every beat is faster when I’m near.
You can still feel it. The echo of him. The outline of him. The way your body knows he was here.
That little voice in your head is long gone, lost somewhere in sleep.
You hold it in your palm and you whisper — to the empty room, to the quiet house, to the place in the air where he had been.
“I’m yours.”
Humans and Creatures
Fandom: From (MGM+ Series)
Pairing: Fem!Reader x Cowboy Creature, ft. Boyd Stevens
Tags: Horror, Romance, Supernatural, Tension, Fanfiction, One-Shot
Warnings: Creepy vibes, mild horror elements, implied danger, unrequited feelings (kinda?)
A/N: A little spooky, a little spicy, inspired by the eerie world of From. Hope you enjoy this tumble into the unknown! Reblog if you want more creepy cowboy vibes! 🖤🌙
The night clung to you like damp mist, heavy with pine and dread. You stood on your creaky porch, the talisman humming faintly above the door, your only shield in this cursed town. The Cowboy was back, his silhouette sharp against the moonlit trees, spurs jingling like a warning. His pale eyes gleamed under his tattered Stetson, pinning you in place.
“You’re out late, darlin’,” he drawled, voice rough as gravel. He leaned against a tree just beyond the talisman’s reach, duster coat swaying in the still air. “Temptin’ fate, ain’t ya?”
Your grip tightened on the railing, heart racing. He wasn’t like the other monsters, the ones that tore flesh with gleeful hunger. His smile was sharp, dangerous, but it stirred something reckless in you. “Maybe I’m tired of hiding,” you said, voice steadier than you felt.
His lips curved, teeth glinting. “That’s what I like ‘bout you. Got a spark.” He stepped closer, stopping just shy of the talisman’s line. “Come with me tonight. Let me show you what’s past the fear.”
Your breath hitched. He was a creature, a shadow of the town’s curse, but those lonely, almost-human eyes pulled you in. You stepped forward, the talisman’s hum fading—
“Get back!” Boyd’s voice shattered the spell. The sheriff stormed from the shadows, badge glinting, gun aimed at the Cowboy. “Y/N, step away from that thing. Now.”
The Cowboy’s smile didn’t waver, but his gaze flicked to Boyd, cold and amused. “Evenin’, Sheriff. Always spoilin’ the fun.”
“Shut it,” Boyd snapped, pulling you back behind the talisman’s buzz. His eyes blazed, all hard edges and resolve. “You know what he is, Y/N. You’ve seen what they do.”
“He’s different,” you blurted, heart pounding. “He hasn’t hurt me.”
Boyd’s jaw tightened, disbelief flashing. “Different? He’s one of them! I’m not losin’ you, too.”
The Cowboy chuckled, low and dry. “She’s got a mind of her own, Sheriff.” He tipped his hat to you. “You know where to find me, darlin’.”
Boyd raised his gun. “Come near her again, and I’ll end you.”
The Cowboy’s eyes lingered on you, a flicker of something, regret, hunger, before he melted into the dark, spurs fading. Boyd turned to you, fierce but soft. “You’re smarter than this, Y/N. Don’t cross that line.”
You nodded, but your gaze drifted to the empty forest, the ghost of his voice still echoing.
Yall (From.). Has been out for so long and there are like barely anything on ao3 or Tumblr this is bot funny anymore...💔
There is like currently one story about that hot cowboy and it only has four chapters I think the author is dead. 😭
I am malnourished atp, where is the fanfics...Where is my hot daddy cowboy who will definitely kill me...What are we doing people...
I'll sell my soul to anyone for some evil cowboy fanfics...💔
I have like, so many story ideas but I am not that good of a writer and I feel weird reading my own stuff. 😞
I feel like the only active person in this fandom now. 😔
I'm getting into the TV series (From.).
And all I have to say is that the declining rate of fanfics on the monsters should be illegal, especially the cowboy.
This series has been out for so long yet barely anyone writes anything for the monsters, forget about riding a horse I want to ride that cowboy. 💔
Especially Smiley, where is my porn, where's my fluff, I have not eaten a good meal in a century... 💔
Why is it so hard to find no I am not human fanfics that are not male reader implied. 😭 Us girls and non binary pals want to get some of the good stuff to.😭💔
ESPECIALLY Wireface. I saw like one female implied fic and it took away the fact that he speaks a different language.
WHAT are we doing people...💔
\Closet Buddies.| Part One.
Wireface. X Reader.
Summary:After the sun has started to heat the Earth, Reader finds themselves wandering the streets lost and scared after countless struggles to survive. Luckily she finds shelter at a kind mand house. Finally finding rest she is met with a foreign man in the closet with her and memories flooding back from pass situations.
Stuff:Reader has flashbacks to trauma.Talk about death.Mentiona of death.Wireface worries about the weird girl in the closet corner.Ho,e-owner is just trying to survive.Vigilante being crazy.House fires.Reader wants their family:(.
Genre:Angst?
You had no idea how long you have been wondering the streets of the city, sleep felt foreign to you now, and hauling a messanger bag gets more and more tiring the more days that have passed. The nights get longer and longer, and the more you explore the charred grass and the melted asphalt, the less places you see to hide from the sun.
Your shoes have surely began to give up, constant walking could have only begun to wear them out. The sky had started to light up and anxiety takes over your body. Your feet had grown a mind of their own as you speed up, all the places you took shelter at either had everyone completely wiped out, burnt to a crisp, or they kicked you out. You never knew why they had kicked you out though, but never dared to asked.
You spotted a house a bit away from the city, you thank the universe that it was still dark enough to see it's glowing windows.
Your steps had begun to pick up, you were not sure if you were walking or jogging at this point, but you needed to get to there before the sun had rised.
-
Nearing the front door, you stepped up on the porch almost collapsing. The sound of chatter softly came from inside, you however could not understand them properly, only a few words.
Raising your hand, you began to knock, trying to not disturb anything near by that could cause you harm, human or not. Waiting a little bit, you were naturally a patient person, but you had grew unsettled seeing the sky become brighter behind the horizon.
You raise your harm, beginning to knock again before you heard a voice on the other side, jumping slightly at it's tone. Whoever was on the other side must be tired.
"What do you need?" Was all you had heard, shifting on the spot, you really did not want much, only a place to stay.
"Just shelter. I don't want food or water. I just do not wanna get caught in the sun."
You gripped your bag, you had hoped to sit down even for just one second until you could get back on your feet for a new destination.
You could practically see the sun starting to peek over the horizon, you stood patiently on the other side of the door, silence was the only thing on the other end.
You could almost burst out laughing at it, you had just asked a man to save you from burning up and he answered with silence? Were you really going to die in the sun because some one ignored your distress? You grew a little frantic, not daring to say another word, although panic evident on your face.
You could practically feel sweat forming on the back of your neck, the feeling of regret eating away at you, maybe you should of risked going inside a charred building then risk burning in the sun on someone's doorstep.
.
Right as you had turned around to leave, you heard a lock unlatch. Turning back around you see a door swing open, the sound of it creaking gave you shivers as you see a man appear on the other end. He wore black pants and a blue sweater. Really? A sweater? In this heat?
.
You both looked at eachother before he had moved out of the way, clearing a path for you to walk in.
You took a few slow steps, trying to look thankful but not desperate to get in, although you were very desperate. One more second on this porch and you would have been cremated.
Muttering a thank you, you had looked around, taking in the surroundings of your new shelter. If anything, you had thought it was smaller from the outside. The ceiling was low, and it barely had decorations littering the hallways.
The man the had let you in, the one you assumed was the home-owner, had long gone. So all you had left to do was find somewhere to sit.
-
Walking around, you were peeking in and out of rooms. While yes you might have looked suspicious to the other guests, but you were not going to walk into a quiet room full of people and have no where to sit. You would rather not die of embarrassment, on the positive side, you saw all the residents, so you know who else is here with you.
You had checked the closet and found no one in there. It was not a cozy looking place to rest, but it would do for now, it was better than burning up in flames and smoke on the boiling hot ground.
-
Finding yourself seated on the corner, you leaned your head back up against the wall and let out a loud sigh. Endless roaming of the hot streets at night left you shaken up and exhausted.
You did not even know how any of this started. It was just a normal day, the sun was out and you had been taking a walk. It was really hot that day. You had walked past a park full of kids, the sounds of their cheering and screaming brought a smile to your own lips. Parents feeding some of their kids, while others watched and talked amongst themselves while sheilding their faces from the sun.
You had continued to walk until you heard the blaring alarms of a fire engine in the distance. It was not really that surprising to you, until you heard a few more. The sight of smoke in the distance near the centre of the city was enough to stop you in your tracks.
Maybe an accident? While yes it was normal for large accidents to happen here and there resulting fire, but multiple?
You had decided to begin to head to your own home, you were hot and thirsty And your home provided you with enough cosiness and ventilation to cool you down.
.
Nearing your house, you unlocked the front door and stepped inside, Immediately turning the TV on. You had nothing better to do but to relax and watch the news.
That is where everything had went down hill.
You did not even want to remember your home burning down in the midst of it all.
.
You almost felt sick to your stomach, usually it is cold even around this time of year. But now everything was being burnt to a crisp, even your will to keep living was being burnt out. But you dared not to do anything, you survived this for so long, why give up now?
Everyone seemed happy and normal until it all went to shit in a few minutes. All those people, those children. Knowing most of them were dead now left you feeling like you were going to throw up all over the closet floor. But that would be rude, the poor home-owner would have more stuff to deal with if you made a mess.
You leaned your head comfortably against the wall and hugged you knees. You came here for rest, so you were going to set your bag to the side and get some much needed sleep, ignoring the present just for once in order to get some shut eye.
You felt your drowsiness take over you, closing your eyes and softly snoring away. Why would you care how loud or quiet you were when you slept? It might be the end of the world and you were alone in the closet.
-
You were comfortable, happy that you were getting rest. But you woke up to the sound of voices, a little annoyed, but also curious. They were a little close for comfort, opening your eyes, you saw two people in the closet. One was the kind home-owner, he was holding a gun. Your eyes had stayed on the gun for too long, the site bringing you bad memories from the last shelter you were in. It had burnt down because a lunatic had shot the place up and torched it. You were able to get away un noticed. But the site of the gun messed up your mind, you hoped the home-owner was not as crazy as that man. You did want to flee another shelter and wander the streets like a homeless child.
Clearing your thoughts, you had looked over to who the home-owner was talking to. A man was also in the closet with both of you. He had his back turned, he was saying stuff to the home-owner, but you could not understand anything he was spewing out. And by the looks of it, neither did the home-owner.
"Show me your teeth." The home-owner had said, gesturing to his own set of pearly whites.
You had no idea what was happening, but the other man had reached his hands up to his face. You were probably just as confused as him. What was happening was not your business though.
You rested your head back on the wall beside you, but before you could close your eyes you heard shuffling. The home-owner owner was infront of you now. Both the men in the room are now facing your direction, the other poor man looked as confused as you did, but you were more focused on the armed man infront of you.
"Show me you teeth." He had asked, he seemed more calm then when he was talking to the other guest in this room.
You hesitated before pulling your lips apart, enough for him to see your teeth. They were not perfect, a little crooked, and they had a soft yellow tint to them. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, you probably looked ridiculous right now.
.
The home-owner just looked at you before nodding to himself and walking out, leaving you and the confused man alone.
You wanted to go back to sleep, looking at the door dazed, you wanted this all to end, everything was weird, people were weird.
"Gszg dzh dvriw.(That was weird.)" He had muttered out. You had no idea what he had said, but you did not want to acknowledge him right now. Your stuck in a room with a man you can not understand, and as much as you would love to try to understand, you were still tired.
Closing your eyes again, you let out a quiet huff and got comfortable again. Completely ignoring the gaze of the foreign man burning into your skull.
-
You woke up again, you had no idea how long you have slept after you had revealed your mouths innards to the home-owner. The foreign man was leaning against the wall mumbling to himself. You had no idea what time of day or night it was, the sound of distant chatter and footsteps somewhere else in the house made you think that maybe it was not that long.
You were looking around the room, the shelves were covered in boxes and dust. Seemed to be a pretty boring room, not really much to see. You looked up at the ceiling enough to see the top of the room and and the foreign guys face. You failed to ignore the way his eyes kept darting to look at you from time to time.
.
Looking at the ceiling, you thought about your previous life. You had wanted to do so much, yet all your hopes and dreams were taken from you in minutes. You had nothing, no home, no food, no way to contact your family, you are even slowly losing your willingness to continue living.
You could go on and on, thinking about the things you could have done, things you could've been doing now, but it was all put to a stop when a sudden sound had erupted through the house you were staying in. It was a sound you were all to familiar with, the sound of a gun shot. You really should not have flinched just as much as you did, but the sound itself was threatening, you wanted to cry, the sound forcing you to remember the massacre you witnessed at your old shelter. But the eyes of the foreign man bore into you so much that crying made you look more pathetic than scared, being emotionally weak was not an option during these times, but you could not stop shaking even if it could save your miserable life.
The feeling of the man looking at you did not ease up, the thought of it making you feel even more anxious.
You almost let out a sob, but the sound of the door handle rattling had brought you back to the present. Both you and the foreign man had looked towards the open door.
The home-owner had entered the room, holding a gun with blood scattered on his clothes. He had walked towards you first this time, you could only get more anxious. Your lips began to quiver as he gripped his gun tightly. You did not even comprehend that he asked you a question.
You were more distracted by the thoughts of what could happen to you right now. He could kick you out with the guns barrel pointed at you, or maybe paint the walls with your innards.
You only darted you eyes between his face and the gun. His lips were moving but you heard nothing. You however saw his face shift, he looked like he was getting frustrated.
"R gsrmp blfi hxzirmt gsvn.(I think your scaring her.)" The foreign guy had spoke up,but the home-owner did not listen to whatever he was trying to say though, not like he would understand anyways.
You calmed down a bit to hear what was going on, the home-owner was growing impatient. Pointing the gun at you as he repeated his question.
"Show me your damn eyes." He repeats.
Only then were you able to make out what he was saying.
You raised your hands up to open up your eye lids a bit, your hands were trembling slightly. You just wanted this all to end, you wanted to go home, you wanted your family. You were scared, you just wanted peace, why does everyone that holds a gun have to be so cruel.
.
The home-owner shifts from you towards the foreign me. You just hope he leaves you alone for the rest of the day, or night, you don't really care anymore.
You rest your head back on the wall as you draw your gaze to the floor. You failed to notice the gaze the foreign guy kept on you as you sat in the corner trembling.
You do not bother to pay attention to what else is happening in the room, drifting back to rest, you have no other way to calm yourself down other then closing your eyes and sleeping your fear away.
You just hoped that you could forget this all tomorrow.
Note:Hey guys I am actually really proud of this, but feed back is really appreciated so if you have any thing to recommend in my writing or spot many mistake please let me know, I want to get good at it so I can write for characters that have nothing about them. ❤️🥺
I might start another wireface series before I continue the original one. I am a beginner author so I need practise and I have to many fic ideas...
I want wireface to but a baby in me. Leave me in that closet with him and we'll rebuild the population together.
We need more Wireface fanfictions. No I am not human authors where yall at I am hungry.
|Let me help.(Ovg nv svok.)|Part 3.
Wireface x Reader.
Summary:Reader could not contain herself, the thought of wireface made her think unspeakable things. But while she was getting herself off in her room, wireface had stumbled upon her when he had just come to check up on her.
With Readers failed release, he steps in to help her.
Stuff:A lot of smut.Fingering.Readers first orgasm.Wireface ruining Reader with his fingers.Ooc Wireface.Sweet talking.Masterbation.Fingering.First time.Voyerism?Sex with injury but the injury is NOT being used.Wireface my husband.
!!Smut!!
You shuffled on your bed, you could not hear anything. You were almost positive you were gonna be alone for the day. No one goes around during the day, and most of the remaining survivors have learned to sleep during the day.
You move closer to the drawers you had next to your bed. Trying not to hurt your already pressured wound,
Pulling the drawer open, you eye at what you have to work with. Your vibrator had lost charge a while ago, and you are not injuring yourself even more to get some battery on it.
So instead you reach for a black, silicone penis. You hated how people gave sexual items silly names. Dildo does not sound fitting for something that looks like a man's genitals.
You laid on your side a bit, not fully, but at an angle so you can reach your lower regions.
Your frontal hole was already slick, so you did not need spit or lube.
Dragging the piece of equipment lower to your entrance.
You slowly started inserting it, the intense feeling making you whimper softly. You brought a hand to your mouth. You had other residents in the home with you, so you being loud was not an option.
Once the device was all the way inside you, you had took a few breathes. The feeling was not something you were used to. Going a while without touching yourself or having any release at all made any sort of sexual affection foreign to you.
Slowly, you had pumped the device in and out. Feeling every inch of it inside you, brushing against your inner walls. You muffled a few whimpers, but no matter what you try, you feel pleasured but un satisfied.
Moving your hand faster and pushing the device as deep as it could go did no help. But you were not going to give up. You remember the tone of wireface, how his voice had sounded.
Your mind drifted from his voice to his hands, imagining what his fingers would feel like if they were inside of you.
You knew you should be thinking of someone so lewdly, but you could not help it.
Wireface was the only person in this place that helped you take care of yourself. And god was he handsome.
You continued the best you could, you could feel a knot building in your abdomen, you had almost finally felt release for the first time.
But it was all taken away as quick as it came.
The sound of your bed room door creaking made you jolt up, seeing a all too familiar figure looking at you from your door way.
Wireface was stunned at the sight of your sweaty face and hand clasped over your voice. He was not disgusted, more so shocked he had wandered upon you looking like this while your actively injured.
You pull the blanket to cover your face with a look of disappointment.
Wireface did not know what to do, he felt a little bad for staying a little longer then he should have stayed. But another part of him wanted to help.
Just as much as you grew infatuated with him, he had fallen for you within five days of staying in your house. Your kindness had drawn him in.
He almost wished he was the one making you feel well, but you do not understand eachother.
He did not know what had possessed him, but he took a few steps closer to the end of your bed and placed his hands over your blanket covered knees?
He wanted to help, but he had no idea how to ask.
You watched him place his hand on your knees. As much as it was a dream for a man as dashing as him to be in a room with you all hot and sweaty, you were confused as to why he was acting like this.
"Ovg nv svok. Kovzhv...(Let me help. Please...)"
That is all you heard from him, he lifted one hand and gestured towards your lower area,you were confused. Was he asking to see?
You hesitated, but the look of his eyes and his face made you think otherwise. Slowly you lift the blanket up, revealing your lower region to him. He stared as your bareness in awe, you were truly the most beautiful women he has laid his eyes upon.
Placing his hands on your knees, spreading your legs a little.
He looked up at you, for conformation to go ahead. You did not know what he was planning to do to you, but you nodded anyways. You did not expect to feel his fingers press against your section, they were warm yet cold compared to the heat of your sex.
He looked up at you for one more confirmation.
You did not expect this to happen, but you were not complaining. Half of this is a dream, having the only man in this house that you fancied between your legs, the other half is wondering if you succumbed to your injury and this is heaven. So you nodded one last yes to him.
With the confirmation, he pressed two of his digits in, lowering his body towards your sex. He pumped his fingers in and out, they were about the same width as the toy you were previously using. He made a scissoring motion inside you, stretching you out enough to fit a third digit, curling them to find your sweat spot. You mouth at the feeling, so he continues, taking it as a sign he found it.
You had already pressed your hand back to your mouth, whimpers threatening to spill past your palm. You had never felt something this good in your life before.
Wireface had one hand stretching your walls out, while his other one was holding one of your thighs softly, preventing you from closing them on instinct.
He wished he could taste you, but due to his facial injuries, he did not want to risk anything happening, so he settle to pressing soft kisses on your inner thighs, leaving bites on some areas.
His thumb had moved between your folds, wiggling around before locking onto something. He began rubbing your sensitive bud, your back began to slowly arch of your bed. You were a whimpering mess at this point, but he did not mind one bit, you were ethereal in his eyes.
Your other hand had clung to the bed, as much as you wanted to stable yourself on his hair, you did not want to hurt him.
You could not focus on anything around you, not even anything he could have said.
You felt a strong knot building in your abdomen, wireface felt your walls clenching, feeling you were close he had sped up his pace, his fingers curling more than they already were. He began rubbing faster, whispering sweat nothing's, not that you could understand.
"Hfxs z tllw trio.(Such a good girl.)"
You could not hear him over the overwhelming good feeling in your lower parts.
You felt the knot getting bigger, you began trembling.
And before you knew it, you had broke. Your inner walls were trembling. Your back was arched and your legs were shaking drastically. You tried to catch your breath, wireface had helped you over ride your orgasm, hushing you.
Once you were calm, wireface had gotten up and left.
You laid on your bed, breathing heavily, hair sticking to your forehead, beads of sweat still dripping down your brow.
Wireface had come back with a wet cloth in hand. Kneeling infront of you, he cleaned your lower area before folding the cloth and coming to your face. Brushing the hair off of your forehead before wiping the sweat off.
You did not move, to full of bliss to process that he was cleaning you.
You did not even feel the soft kissed he pressed on your lips before wrapping you up in a blanket. Making sure you were not to hot, but covered enough to hide your nudity.
Before you knew it, your eyes grew heavy, you slowly drifted off to sleep, face flushed and finally satisfied for once in your life.
Note:I did my best, I read a lot of fanfiction so I was just remembering how other authors wrote smut to make it look good enough. Also the damn ask a question polls keep coming up when I am in the middle of writing I don't know how to get rid of it. Send help, and feedback please. :D
I don't know how to get rid of this.
Send help.
Please.
|Trust me...(Gifhg nv...)|
Wireface x Reader.
Summary:Reader is starting to lose hope, sleeping less and over working herself and her wounds, almost accidentally getting herself killed. Wireface finds her and helps her out. But reader ends up finding another problem placed in front of her.
Stuff:Reader almost dies naked.Wireface is stressed tf about Reader.Wireface x Reader ooc.Wireface turned Reader on by accident?Reader can not take care of herself to saver her own life.Reader is horny.Reader is a virgin.Near death experience.Wireface is gonna lose hair over Reader one day.
A few days had passed, you have slowly started to lose sleep.
You had found no need to check people for anymore signs currently, so you decided you should make everyone jam sandwiches, even if the world has gone to shit, people still need to eat.
You had walked over to the kitchen, trying your hardest not to limp. So far from what you know, only wireface knows your critically injured.
Upon reaching the door to the kitchen, you had heard shouting from inside. Swinging it open, you saw the teenage girl and your neighbours daughter arguing.
You had no motivation to deal with your guests fighting. The kids did not want to be near eachother, but upon offering them to move spots they both were reluctant. So all you have left to do was hope they get along.
You however did not have the mood for that either, you stood helpless at the door, gun on you back and eyes watching the scene unfold infront of you.
You did not even know what started it. But looking over at the spiritual lady at your table, she looks right back at you and shrugs her shoulders, not even she knows and she is thenone that is stuck with them 24/7. So you just speak up, I mean, what could happen? You had though. You were wrong.
"What happened?"
You regret speaking, the teenage girl practically breaks her neck. She is fully facing you. She then starts spewing everything and anything, pointing fingers at the neighbours daughter, who looks like she is on the edge of crying.
After hearing the teenage girl ranting and yelling, and seeing the neighbours daughter began crying. You find out easily that the teenager is going through teen hormones, scary.
It's stupid really, you had thought to yourself. This argument had began because the neighbours daughter had accidentally bumped into the teen while she was trying to sleep.
You give her some pain meds and tell her the bathroom is open most of the time. You hope this can calm her down and keep you from being the next victim. Angry people are scary, no matter the person.
You decided to make your neighbours daughter feel better, you let her help you make jam sandwiches. It had seemed to boost her mood, drying her tears you gave her a sandwiche and began handing them out. Giving one to the spiritual lady and leaving one on the table for the teen. The lady thanks you and goes back to reading her cards and swinging her pendulum. You never fully understood her intentions, but she seemed chill and gave you semi good life advice. Plus, she is gorgeous. She reminds you of your mother...
You make your rounds, giving sandwiches to everyone. Only one remains, time to pay wireface a visit. You do not know what he has been up to, considering the last time you tried to talk to him not even you could remember. You have been avoiding conversations with everyone, even him.
You do regret it though, although you can not understand eachother, you like that he atleasts says a few words to you. Even if he could be insulting you under his breath.
Reaching the closet door, you knock, you hear shuffling before it opens.
"Ls, rg'h blf. Mvvw hlnvgsrmt?(Oh, it's you. Need something?)"
You looked at him, still not understanding what he is saying 99% of the time. You just nod slowly and hand him the sandwiche.
He takes the plate, but something seems to be on his mind. He does not speak up at first, but his eyes drift to your stomach area. You feel incredibly awkward under his gaze, for some unknown reason, you feel scared? His eyes do not look that of concern, but not annoyed. It's not the same look others have given you.
You shift slightly before speaking up, feeling awkward in the silence.
"N-Need something?" Great, you blew it. Now he definitely knows your awkward. Good job, you say to yourself.
His eyes go back to yours, his expression changed, shock? Worry? You did not know. But all you do know is that you might crumble undernhis gaze if he does not speak. You might aswell step in the sun. You feel like his gaze is burning you alive so what is the difference.
"Rh blfi dlfmw lp?(Is your wound ok?)" He mutters, one hand holding the plate while the other gestures to your upper stomach area.
You look at where he is gesturing to and piece together that he is talking about your wound.
"My wound? Yes it is ok, if that is what your asking." Nodding along to your own words while doing a thumbs up. He nodded along before turning slightly, he looks towards the box he checked, he wanted to ask you about it. But as he turned around to bring it up, your gone and he hears fast shuffling.
He shrugs before picking up his sandwiche and eating it slowly, careful of his lips.
You had felt awkward, slamming onto your bed before grunting in pain, maybe not a good idea. However the pain from your embarrassment earlier was worse.
The sun slowly rised. You decided you needed to shower, you were planning to save the last few beer cans for the tall guy until you can buy more, until then, a cold shower could do.
The bathroom door does not really lock, it is a one person living space really, you just hope everyone is asleep.
Looking around for a towel, you feel a spike of pain come from your wound. Grunting a little to loudly. Your sure alteast three of your residents had heard your pain through all those closed doors. Wireface always hears your pain, so it is no surprise that you caught site of him peeking from the closet as you stumble to the bathroom. Turning the corner from his view.
Knocking on the bathroom door and waiting a few minutes, you swing it open to see no one in there. Perfect for you to have a shower, as much as using a tub to relax it would be nice, you would prefer to sit in it with the shower on so atleast some noise is heard. You would shoot yourself If anyone had ever walked in on you naked.
Sitting in the tub with the shower on, your body spiked in pain as the water rained on you and your bullet wound. A bottle of hydrangea soup sat in the tub with you. You did not really feel the need to be quick to wash up. You decide to take as long as you need.
A few minutes had passed and you decided that you should quickly wash up and get to bed, but your body refuses you as you try to move, only for your wound to start bleeding again. It hurt even worse than before, you couldn't even breathe without feeling pain searing through your torso.
All you could do was grip the edges of the tub and try to hold back a cry.
You felt miserable, you were bleeding heavily. You did not know if having a shower caused this is the first place, or maybe you moved in the wrong way and ended up opening it more. You decided to quickly move your leg up to kick the shower knob to turn it off before you stopped moving completely.
You couldn't even hold your tears back for a few more seconds. Moving one of your knees up to hug your leg with one hand and muffle your cries with the other one. You hear foot steps... You paid them no mind, sobs muffled into the palm of your hand and small sniffles echoed, maybe if you paid more attention you would have heard the footsteps stop infront of the bathroom door and the sounds of soft knocks.
The only sounds that could be heard were your sobs. If anything, you would have been under reacting since the whole bottom of the top was 80% covered in your seeping blood. Really the person who had stepped into the bathroom was right to be overly shocked...
Wait...
Someone had stepped into the bathroom?..
You looked up to see that oh so familiar mop of black hair and dried bloody lips.
It was wireface...
Nevermind why he was in here, how long WAS he in here with you?
Questions clouded your mind, you just stared at him shocked, tears streaming down your cheeks.
He was looking at the fresh blood seeping out of your wound, his hands shifted a bit. Which made your eyes drift to what he was holding, the med kit from multiple days earlier.
You did not even care about much pain you were in, you slowly shifting to cover yourself more, eyebrows furrowed and whimpers leaving your lips. Yea maybe you shouldn't move anymore.
Wireface just stood still. He wanted to help, but he was more stunned at the fact that you were bleeding out in a bathroom while trying to muffling yours cries.
"R dlfow szev svokvw blf ru rg dviv gl tvg gsrh yzw, dsb wl blf mvevi zhp uli svok? Ziv blf hxzivw?(I would have helped you if it were to get this bad, why do you never ask for help? Are you scared?)"
You did not process that fact that he was talking to you, you just looked at him, who happened to be making direct eye contact with you.
He could see that you were trembling, eyes threatening to spill more tears. He felt awkward, but that did not change how bad he wanted to comfort you, but you were currently bleeding out in pain and agony.
You were all bandaged up and wrapped in blankets and towels, still in the bath tub, still very much nude.
Wireface was sitting on the floor, he was snoring softly. He must have been so exhausted having to help you again. You feel guilt, maybe if you had not gotten shot in the first place, maybe then you would not look so weak and pathetic in a bath tub with a poor guest of yours on the floor. While you were happy it were him who has helped you all this time, you shove those thoughts down, you have grown to love him, but you never acknowledged those feelings, as you knew that he was only helping because kindness is a normal human thing to do.
You hqd just hoped that if you were a better person, in better condition, maybe you would not have to have burdened him to help you. It is not like you wanted him to help you this time, you did not know what you wanted. You just want people to leave you alone, but your scared of being alone.
You sit in your thoughts, not paying notice to the man looking at you from the floor.
Wireface had woken up a few minutes ago, he has been looking at you to pass the time. You were deep in thoughts, he wished he could read minds to know what has gotten you to look so lost, not like he can anyways, you also think in a different language so maybe not.
A minute jad passed before he decided to softly speak up, trying not to startle you.
"Szev blf vzgvm?(Have you eaten?)"
Although he was quiet, you still jolted. The look on his face looked almost apologetic.
You just tilt your head, in a way to show you do not understand.
Wireface does a spoon scooping motion with his hands. Bringing it to his mouth and fake chewing before pointing towards you.
You could only furrow your eyebrows. Was he asking if you ate?
You could only shake your head no, truth is. You have only eaten once in a few days, the rest you would just drink water to fill your stomach.
You could almost imagine the gears turning in wirefaces head as he looked at your answer stunned. He got up and left. Closing the door behind him.
'Damn, did he just abandon me?' You had thought, only for him to come back almost on queue, he held a plate with a sandwiche. It looked like the same sandwiches you made earlier, but fresh. Did he make a sandwiche for you?
You could almost tear up at the thought, it wouldn't hurt to cry over someone's kindness would it? I mean, you could blame it on your wound.
You only now realised that you could not physically move, but you are pretty sure that wireface already knew that.
He was on his knees beside the bathtub, breaking the bread apart before bringing a piece to your mouth.
"Vsg.(Eat.)"
You look at him before opening your mouth. He put the piece in before making sure you chew.
He had not let you out of the tub at all. Maybe he did not want y1ou to Injure yourself further.
He stayed with you, you did not want to stay in there though. The teen girl in the kitchen was on her girls week after all.
You waited for him to get up to do something before you yourself attempted to get up.
You successfully got yourself up and out of the bath tub, completely forgetting that your nude. Managing to wrap a blanket around you, you quietly trotted to your room, opening the door and laying on your bed. Your gun still where you left it.
You felt comfortable finally, but now that you have moved you have multiple new problems. You can feel pain in your wound again, and wireface might be a little mad. Hearing his almost gibberish panicking from down the hall, you forgot to close your door fully. So it was easy for wireface to assume you were in there.
And he was correct.
He opened the door to see you laying on your bed.
You could almost hear him letcout a sigh of relief.
"Hglk nlermt zilfmw. Blfi zm rwrlg ru blf gsrmp blf xzm ufmxgrlm rm gszg xlmwrgrlm. R zn qfhg gibrmt gl svok.(Stop moving around. Your an idiot if you think you can function in that condition. I am just trying to help.)"
You had no idea what he just said, but the tone of his voice and the look on his face said a lot, you are 100% sure he was scolding you.
He closed the door and left, you had only hoped you could rest.
But you could not help but think about his voice, while you know it was not something that should be making you feel this way. You were aroused.
Great, your Injured and now horny. It is not like you have not touched yourself, but your a virgin and you were never successful in your attempts for a release.
Your sure he has left you for the time being, so you decided that you should make an attempt at getting yourself off before the moment is lost. Maybe this could go well unlike your past attempts?
Note: I will be writing smit next chapter, so if your reading this then I am sorry if I suck at writing.
Who else should I work on?
Cashier Girl.
Coat Guy.
|Are you a human? (Ziv blf z sfnzm?)|
Wireface x Reader.
Summary:The days don't seem to end and life does not get any easier in the face of the world you were damned to live in. Upon wanting to give it all up countless times, a cute guest in your house helps you stay on your feet. Although a language barrier is currently the strongest thing in your residence. Your growing love for this foreign man is stronger.
Stuff:Wireface x Reader.Fluff.Reader has trauma.Fem Reader.Reader is tired of everyone.Wireface has trouble expressing feelings.Reader might have emotional trauma.Character death.Reader is scared to show feelings.Wireface my husband.
You did not know how long you could keep going through life like this.
Shotgun on your back, you trotted around your home to check on you guests. It was the same everyday, you know by now everyone residing in your home are not visitors. But with loneliness and boredom, you find it is all you could really do to keep you going, to remind you that you have people looking to you for help and shelter.
The gun on your back meant nothing, sure you've eliminated anyone you deemed a threat and kept the innocent alive, but that doesn't make you any stronger.
Truth is, you knew you were pathetic, you never felt comfortable leaving your house before the world went to shit, it wasn't like you ever had a choice, you felt anxious living on foreign land. You only recently managed to properly grasp the native language, but did it really matter now? You never even spoke to residents, you didn't need to, you gave them food, water, and checked them. You didn't ask them for much, didn't even care that they never thanked you.
You just wanted rest.
But you could not rest now, you had one more person to check up on. A man that came later on in the rise of visitors. He came to your door crying, mouth sewn shut with wired stitches. You felt bad for him, pitied him almost. But pity does not do much in this world, that was all you knew to keep you going. Everyone is out to keep themselves alive, why care for anybody else?
You were different, your kindness was a whole different conversation. You played it no mind, it was only human you had thought.
Knocking on the closet door holding a plate of food on one hand, you had waited, you heard mumbling on the other side. The man had taken off his stitches the same day he had arrived, you just wished you could understand him. You do not speak his language, all you could understand was 'Help me' and 'Thank you'.
He had opened the door and look at you, you eyed his mouth, still red from his injuries. If only you had enough medical supplies to help those in your house that are injured. But unfortunately you don't use it for helping other, call it selfish but you would rather die then live with injuries.
You hand the foreign man the plate of food and left before he could mutter out a word. You did not feel like talking, and for a man who spoke another language. He was the only guests willing to chat to you. If only you were good at hiding your distress from these past few days, eyebags do not disappear in seconds after all. And crying quietly every night did not help you get any better. If it were not for the fact that you were the one that held the gun, you would of been shot dead because of your red eyes.
You had laid on your bed, everyone in your house was human, no visitors are here, no one has come in a while. You should not be so stressed. So why did your chest ache?
You did not want to talk to anyone, the looks they give you were enough. Some looked worried about you, some looked annoyed with you for your lack of self care. But the foreign man did not show any of those emotions. You would not know though. You always went in and out to quickly to actually see if he were one of your more ungrateful guests, the kind to grow annoyed over your constant check ups, your lack of emotion.
But what you also did not know was that he heard you crying every night.
Wireface, what you had began calling him. Had been worried sick about you, infact, he wanted to come check on you tonight. He had not known where your room was, knowing how quiet the house is, he could only known that everyone else had fallen asleep.
The closet door was so close to your room so it was not that hard to find you. He had knocked, but no answer. Upon hesitation, he turned the knob and opened the door. Your room was dark compared to the outside world. The blinds on your window was closed shut to the point it looked like it was night, only one small ray of light being able to push its way into your room.
His eyes had darted from looking at the darkness of the room to your sniffling figure on your bed. Your back had been facing him, but he didn't need to see your face to know you were in despair.
He had slowly walked over to you, trying to be as quiet as possible. You were obviously fast asleep, yet you were still crying, were you having a nightmare? Were you that upset that not even sleep had brought you an ounce of peace?
Wireface could only hope you just stopped crying.
He was not annoyed by it, but he heard it every night he himself wondered if anyone else in the residence had actually tried to check up on you.
He had reached the other end of your bed and knelt down, he felt awkward trying to help you, but you looked so lost and sad he might also start crying.
He reached his hand up to brush the hair out of your face slowly, it was stuck to your tear covered cheek. Rubbing circles on your cheek slowly and softly with his thumb.
"Shhh..." He shushes you as he continues rubbing circles on your cheek until you stopped crying.
Once you hushed, he had gotten up and looked at you more closely. You were sleeping with your gun next to you, your grip slowly faltering. Maybe all this was because you were scared, who wouldn't be, a world gone to shit with violent people running around and a sun scorching the spring environment. How the flora around your house has not torched up yet is a miracle.
He began to walk away slowly and quietly. Trying not to wake you, mumbling to himself.
"Ru lmob R xlfow fmwvihgzmw blf...(If only I could understand you...)"
The sun had set, you had woke up, cheeks surprisingly dry. Usually they are still sticky with tears when you wake up. Maybe you finally slept peacefully?
You would usually follow your daily routine, take a shower, brush your teeth, get ready, try to go out and live a world you were meant to enjoy.
But when the world decided it wanted to make another event to go down in history. You lost all motivation.
Plus, brushing your teeth might make you look like a visitor, why clean your teeth if clean teeth is what could get you killed?
You made your rounds, checking people in the same order, always leaving the foreign man last. You decided that since the bathroom is the only room that is free that you would decide to have a shower. You were about to head to the foreign man in your closet until you had heard your front door being knocked on.
The sharp sounds made you slightly jump, gripping your gun you headed over to it.
You peaked out of the peep-hole and saw the same old man with a gun, he seemed to have gained more fingers and teeth for his necklaces.
He was rambling on about he couldn't find the pale white man that you are pretty sure is running around naked.
You tune out most the conversation, you just wanted him to leave, you did not tell him though. You have seen how he acts when walking around the street, killing anyone he thinks is a little off or suspicious. You just let him ramble on about what he was previously doing, well, until he brought up a demand from you.
"Let me check that your not one of them..."
He had no emotion but anger on his face, you swore he always looked like that. But this time he actually looked more scary than crazy. But then again, crazy people are scary.
You could only look in shock, you were in no position to deny someone else holding a gun. Especially someone who seems more skilled.
"What would you like me to show you?" Was all you could say, maybe if you acted compliant he would think your human and leave, ofcourse your human, your eyes are only red because you suck at bottling your emotions to last a day without breaking. You just wished he chose anything but.-
"Your eyes, show me your eyes."
You froze before the words even finished coming out of his mouth.
"Can you choose something else?.." You softly pleaded.
"Why? Have something to hide? Show me your eyes or I'll blow this place to pieces."
He demanded, you noticed the grip on his gun growing stronger, he looked like he had already made his decision. Yet you still gave in, cracking the front door open and opening your eye lids a little.
You did not have much time to react before he started spewing insults and names. Claiming your one of those monsters, yea you saw that coming...
You shut your door before he could try to burst in and shoot the place up.
You see him through the peep hole and its clear he had his gun up and ready to blow you through the door. You could just move away so you are not affected. But he would just torch your house up. So you quickly grasp your gun and point it. Silence followed, you then pulled the trigger. As you heard the bullet leave, it shot through the door, but you also didn't notice the other hole in the door as you felt pain searing above your stomach area.
You hear wheezing on the other side of the door before it silences. You could only hope he is dead. The smoke coming out of the gun and the blood seeping out of your body was a give away to what had just unfolded a few seconds ago.
By the time this all went down, wireface had grown confused. Keeping track on the genuine time you would wake up and check on people, he noted that you were late to coming to him. Did you find out he went into your room last night? He decided to step out of the closet to check. Walking around he heard rushed footsteps, coming across the front door with two jagged holes and blood puddled up infront of it he decided that maybe he should have stayed in the closet.
Meanwhile you were in the living room rummaging through drawers, the tall man on your couch looked at you with concern and curiosity. The sisters paid you no mind.
You were clutching your wound so hard with a random piece of clothe you found to the point the blood refused to seep through the fabric.
Standing up, you began heading to you room with a med kit stored in the drawer. Walking with a limp in your step, barely able to move without pain seering into your entire body. You did not even bother to pay mind to the stares of those in the living room.
Slowly limping you come across wireface, who was about to make his way back to the closet. You made eye contact with him, you were not surprised you were caught injured, more so awkward that you were found limping to your room.
As you turned to continue slowly limping to your room, it did not take wireface much to catch up, he really only took two steps and reached for your shoulder. He did not even know what happened. Were you shot?
He had slowly dragged you to your room, he wanted to help you, after all you had helped everyone that has taken shelter in your home.
Sitting you down on your bed slowly, he had no actual idea how to bandage people up. He will just do what he saw people do at the medical facility he was at, before his mouth was stitched.
He had taken the clothe from you,he froze, seeing a lot more blood then he anticipated.
He took some disinfectant wipes from the now open medkit and slowly pulled up your shirt/dress,(hoping your wearing shorts.) And began to clean the area as gently as possible. He took the small disinfectant spray and started spraying your wound before getting a bottle of alcohol from the kit, putting it on the wound to wipe the more sensitive areas.
You hissed in pain, you could not physically look at him while he was kneeling infront of you and helping you at your worse. Tears pricked at your eyes as you tried to control your breathing, he had noticed but did not say anything. He was far more focused on making sure you did not bleed out.
He took the same cloth you had previously pressed on your wound and folded it, pressing it back on. He then unrolled a bandaged, it look soft and was enough to wrap around the area to keep the cloth in place. He began wrapping in around you, being careful not to get extremely close, you were already injured, he refused to make you in pain AND uncomfortable.
Once he secured the bandage he had stood up, he couldn't say much to you, so he smiled at you before walking out of your room.
You did not really know what to say instead of thanking him but as you opened your mouth he was already gone, hands in his pockets as he walked away.
You really were grateful, but somehow you also felt angry. You had tried so desperately to seem more collected with your emotions and you almost broke infront of a man who you don't even understand. Out of all the residents in the house you have no idea about his thoughts on you or his personality in general. He could literally hate your guts and decided to help you because you looked to pathetic to ignore.
You just hope that maybe sleeping would help you relax, but sleep is hard when you have a bullet wound in your stomach.
Wireface sat in the closet. He was bored stiff out of his mind, he can not really talk to anyone, everyone here speaks a different language. So he decided to look in your storage boxes, he knows he should not be snooping in your stuff, but he has nothing better to do.
Plus, he has had his eyes on a particular box.
It was a box shoved to the back on the lowest shelf. It was the only box that had a insane amount of dust on it. Good thing he didn't have a dust allergy.
He pulled the box out, he didn't plan on fully decking out the whole box, he just wanted to see what was forgotten in here, a bit of him is just bored, while another bit of him wants to use this as a way to get to know you.
He came across a stuffed animal, it seemed to be a basic bear, worn down over the years. He placed it gently on the space next to the box as he continued rummaging. Finding a card, he didn't understand what it said, but he still looked at the writing anyways.
"Happy 16th Birthday from your old pal!
It has been awhile since we talked since school, I have always wondered how things have been hanging with you ever since things had went down a bad path. Sometimes I wished to visit you, but since your currently in Russia I unfortunately can not. I wish to see you again in the future to catch up.
You DID say your parents were planning to live in Russia after you graduate. So maybe before you graduate we can have one proper farewell. I would love to hear about your time in Russia once you come back to (Home country.).
I miss you, have an amazing birthday!
Love:_____"
The state of the card makes it look like it is ancient, must be really old. Why was it tossed in a box? Maybe old memories?
He then rummaged again, finding and old book. It seemed like a photo album.
He leaned against a wall while holding it, flipping through the pages. It showed the progression of someone's life. Starting off on baby pictures and progressively getting older and older.
He was able to make out the child to be you, the eyes, hair and facial features match yours.
It showed pictures with other kids. And adults, your siblings? Parents? Friends? Who knew.
Once he flicked to your teen years he noticed that some one is missing, there were two adults originally. A women and a man, but know only a man remained.
You used to look so happy, but he can see through the photos, you didnt look so happy anymore, like the smiles were forced. You looked hurt, broken? You definitely looked like you needed a hug that's for sure. He noted.
Soon enough he reached the last picture placed in the album. It was of you, you looked how you did now but younger. Your mind seemed else where. You were reading and someone stole a picture of you.
It was the last photo in the album, followed by many unfinished pages, left forever empty.
"Dszg szkkvmvw?(What happened?)." He had said to nobody.
He decided that was enough searching, he did not really learn much, only that you have a birthday card stored away and that you looked lost in your photo album.
As much as he feels guilty for snooping in your belongings. He now holds curiosity, did something happen? Why is that the only birthday card in the box? Why did you shove the box away to be forgotten?
Note:This is the first ever proper fanfic I have written, I mainly wrote this because I barely see anything written in this fanfic, let alone about wireface.
I will definitely be writing more parts.