#“you can choke on it for all i care just get that gum out of your mouth” yes ma'am whatever you say i'll choke on it

[alicesbread]

Rita Collins the woman you are...

[rafesangelita]

hiii i was just reminded of this song & thought it was v angsty rafe coded so if you’re still accepting requests for your 5k celebration (congrats sm again btw!!!) may i req a 🍪 with sober by elita?

₊˚⊹ᰔ 𝐬𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

pairing: dark!rafe x bambi!reader

summary: ❝when i'm with you i float on a cloud, but you cover my mouth and leave my legs bound. i'm scared that i gave you all of the control. i can't get up, i've dug myself into a hole.❞ — a back and forth match about rafe’s sobriety ends with him between your thighs.

warnings: dark themes, drug use, mentions of addiction and sobriety, arguing, yelling, rafe drugs you, dubcon (?), rough sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, slapping, choking, crying, dacryphilia, no aftercare whatsoever :(

word count: 1.2k

a/n: this is out of the norm for me to write, pls read warnings carefully and don’t read any further if you’re not comfortable <3

“what are you doing?” you froze, eyes puffy and red from crying. rafe looked up from the small bag of blow between his fingers, his eyebrows knitting in irritation. “what the fuck does it look like?” he sneered, his knee bouncing as he itched for his next bump. you watched him take the white powder on his finger, wasting no time in rubbing the substance on his gums. your heart broke for him. “you said you were going to stop..” you stepped closer to him, the tears flowing once again.

“yeah? well, what else can i do?” he pushed you back, your hands catching onto his arm. “you promised me, rafe! you said it!” you cried, your boyfriend getting up before slamming you down on your shared bed. you released a breath, his manic eyes burning into yours. “look at you.” you whispered, his hand wrapped tightly around your throat. “how did we get here?” you croaked, panic settling in the pit of your stomach. rafe gritted his teeth, squeezing you tighter.

you started struggling against him, only being able to get out of his grip when you raked your nails down his chest. “you did this to yourself!” he shouted, punching the wall. “you choose to stay here, so i don’t ‘wanna hear shit.” rafe spat, turning around to shoot daggers at your crying form. “i just want you to be healthy. ‘n not high all the time.” you whispered the last part, your heart dropping when he narrowed his eyes at you. “what did you just say?” rafe stalked towards you.

“you know it’s true.” you scooted further up the bed, your heart hammering in your chest when he started laughing. “your eyes get so big, you scare me.” you flinched when he gripped the bedsheets, pulling them so he could get you close. “i scare you?” he laughed harder, “i’ll really give you something to be scared about.” you attempted to run, but he ultimately had the upper hand in caging you between his arms. “where the fuck do you think you’re going, huh?”

you shook your head, cupping his face. he looked like he was on the verge of going off the deep end. “no where! no where..” you were panting, afraid of what he might do. you had to be careful and watch your every move when rafe wasn’t in his right mind. any slip of tongue or the wrong movement would send him spiraling. “you trying to leave me?” his voice dropped a few octaves, his fingers shaking against your skin. “no. i could never leave you, remember?”

the fear in your eyes were as clear as day, and rafe knew you were lying out of instinct to stay on his good side. that only pissed him off more. swallowing thickly, rafe sat back on his heels, taking the small bag out of his pocket. “i didn’t want to do this to you, baby..” he took the tip of his finger and dipped it in. “but i promise you’ll feel so good.” with the powdery drug on his index finger, you started thrashing against him as he forced his digit inside of your mouth.

“no!” you screamed, but it was too late. rafe wore a wicked smile, popping the same finger in his mouth to get off the residue that didn’t smear against your tongue and gums. you stayed frozen underneath him, looking up at the ceiling as rafe got up from on top of you. not knowing where he went, or what he went to do, you laid there until you found it impossible to be still. getting up from the bed, you walked into the bathroom where you stared at your reflection.

your pupils were absolutely blown, a pang of hurt pulling at your heartstrings. you had given rafe so much control, that he did the unthinkable to you. speaking of the devil, you looked up at him as he emerged from behind the door, his eyes meeting your matching ones. he wore a smug look on his face, like he was proud of himself for corrupting you. “feel like you could run a marathon?” you were breathing fast, a thin sheen of sweat adorning your skin.

“how could you?” you turned around, his hands planting themselves on your hips. he felt hot, like his flesh was on fire. “don’t worry, bambi, you’ll be fine.” he kissed you, his taste just as intoxicating. if it wasn’t for the endorphins running through your veins at a million miles per minute, you would’ve pushed rafe away. instead, you felt like you needed to move, and fast. you kissed him back, the fervor between the two of you growing until he picked you up and carried you to your room.

nipping your bottom lip, you whimpered, the stinging sensation only making you cling onto rafe with more desperation. “gonna fuck you so good, baby. ‘have you coming down from that high around my cock.” he pinned you to the mattress, forcing your legs open as he slipped his shirt off in one swift movement. you gasped when he held both of your ankles in one hand, pushing down so your knees met your chest.

the sound of rafe’s zipper was the last thing you heard before he thrusted into you without warning, eliciting a piercing scream from your lips. he hadn’t got you ‘ready’ for him the way he normally did, your walls fluttering around the intrusion that was his throbbing cock. your back arched off of the sheets, your eyes watering as rafe merely used you to get himself off. he worked with precision, having no regard for you as he relentlessly slammed his hips into your own.

your nails dug into your skin, forming crescents as you cried underneath him. “rafe!” you tapped on his arm, which only agitated him. “shut the fuck up.” he said through gritted teeth, landing a slap to your cheek. holding your face, rafe looked down and groaned. he knew it was wrong to get off on you crying, but with lust and blow running through his system, he didn’t care. “you’re so mean.” you whined, your muscles aching as he started toying with your clit.

“i’m not mean. i’m the one who fuckin’ takes care of you,” he pressed a kiss to your calf, “so just lay there and take what i give you.” your eyes rolled back, your thighs trembling when his thrusts became sloppy. you hated yourself for falling into his ministrations, your orgasm ripping through you as rafe collapsed on top of you with a moan. “oh, shit.” he spilled inside of you, the thick ropes of his cum coating your velvety walls. he wiped your eyes before kissing your cheek.

you were coming down from both highs when he left you, the sound of the shower turning on in the nearby bathroom. you felt scared, not knowing what to think of your reaction to the drug you grew to hate so much. when rafe got out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, he didn’t spare you a glance before changing and plopping down on the edge of the bed. “you make me lose my temper when you wanna argue about shit like that. keep your mouth shut next time.”

[temmtamm]

I need you to write SOMETHING about yan Ford locking up (gn) reader slskxlflwld please I need him,,,,,,,, ogh

It wasn’t an easy feat to do this, y’know??

Really, he’d expect more appreciation on your part. Don’t you see all that he is putting on the line just for you? But, no. He supposes it is to hasty for a wild animal to suddenly get used to being loved and having a home.

And trust, that IS what you are. A wild, stray dog. One he intends on domesticating.

After all, it would do you no good to live on your own in a town like Gravity Falls. Too many creatures who would tear you limb from limb if given the chance.

Really, it’s much more preferable that he found you than the others.

…

Now, suuure, he may have found you through unconventional ways—But, hey!! Every Romcom starts with miscommunication!!

…His just happened to be him tracking you down after seeing you at the Mystery Shack, finding your home, your family, your first pets name.

It was all in the name of research, however!! Research is what he does best!! He can pick apart and dissect any topic of interest with enough time.

You just so happened to be his latest topic of interest.

—

“You have to eat, y’know?” Ford knelt down next to your curled in form laying weak on the ground, malnourished, sick, with sweat clinging to your skin and hair that hasn’t been washed in days. No matter, he’s seen worse. He’s lived through worse. They don’t exactly have showers in every single dimension, so a couple months is nothing compared to his nearly 30 years without a shower.

You didn’t respond. That has been your new gimmick lately, he noticed. You’re newest stage of grief.

You’ve already went through anger, bargaining, denial—Now, he just had to deal with your depression before he could get to the sweet ivory bliss that was acceptance.

He’d be waiting with bated breath for when you accepted him and how good this truly was for you, when you’d lean into his touch rather than jerk away.

Maybe then you can finally see more of the house than the basement—So long as you don’t snitch to the others why you’re here.

First things first, however, he needed to make sure you were healthy.

“I said eat.” He huffed, thick bushy brows knitting together as his tone grew more stern. That’s how he usually got his way, he noticed. He had to intimidate you. That’s what he had to do to stop you from stabbing him with his pens, to stop you from using any broken shards of glass to cut yourself, and to stop your from telling him how much you hated him.

Strangely enough, however, it didn’t work this time. If he had to guess, this was your new way of getting back at him, of not giving him the satisfaction of taking care of you. You’d sooner die from starvation than eat anything he cooked.

Too bad he wasn’t letting you. “They always want it the hard way..” Ford sighed, shaking his head before one of his hands jutted out, grabbing at your jaw, already so sore and bruised from the other times when he was…less than kind when handling you. It’d stop if you stopped biting, y’know.

“Glk—“ A choked gag left your lips, your nose wrinkling as your eyes grew misty from the pain. You tried to stay strong, to fight against him, though, inevitably, your mouth parted to let out a cry of pain. “Stop—“

You barely had time before a metal spoon was forced down your gullet, burning hot chili following it. You weren’t allowed solids yet.

Your eyes watered further, feeling it burn at your tender flesh and gums, making you swish it around, desperate to alleviate some of the pain before giving up, swallowing to make the pain, and food go away.

You hated that defeat tasted so good, especially with how you had been neglecting yourself lately.

“There we go,” You hated how Ford cooed even more. “That’s much better, isn’t it?”

A pathetic groan left your lips, with your head ducking back in to hide in your curled up form as he reached out, a rough, calloused six-fingers palm petting and playing with your hair as you laid like a old, tired dog.

…The feeling was soft and sweet, contrasting how tired and sore your bones were.

“There we go…Good dog.”

[erwinsvow]

“what’s this?” you ask, eyes wide and that pretty smile he likes so much taking over your features. “am i forgetting something?”

like always, you’re hesitant to accept it. no matter what he gets you—fancy dinners at the club, pretty shoes that you keep eyeing at the store, ice cream after one of your frequent dates—you get shy about having him spend money on you. you’re real cute about it, he thinks, when you twirl around wearing the dress from today’s trip before dinner, showing him your new outfit. 

you pick up your flowery heels and carry them in your hand when the two of you are walking along the beach. “i can’t get them dirty, rafe!” is what you tell him when he looks at you like you’re crazy, making your face heat up. he carries them for you the rest of the way. 

you cling to his arm, staring at the new bracelet and enjoying the way it shines in the sun, moves down your wrist when you hang onto rafe. he catches you staring at it all throughout the day, whenever you think he’s not looking. jokes on you—he’s always looking at you. 

“open it,” he says back, wanting to see your reaction. rafe’s gaze is always intense, but it feels even more so right now, your heart thudding fast in your chest. 

“wait, rafe, what did i forget?” “nothing, kid, just open it.”

“i didn’t take you for the type to celebrate monthiversaries.” you rustle through your purse, suddenly feeling nervous, pulling something out and offering it to him on your palm. “all i have for you is.. a pack of gum and some lip gloss. but i think this shade would look great on you, do you want it-”

he rolls his eyes, shoving your hand down so the items in your hand fall. 

“stop being a brat and just open it, before i take it back.” 

big eyes watching him, you unwrap the yellow ribbon, taking a second to admire it before you notice rafe’s stare, causing you to put it aside and lift the little white box. inside is a pretty, sparkly chain with a cursive R pendant hanging from it. 

you look up at rafe and then down at the necklace, confusion twisting over your face. your breath catches in your throat, eyes getting watery immediately.

“you like it?” he asks, voice low and serious. when he brings his hand to your chin to lift your face up so he can take a look at you, tears overflow and spill down your cheeks. he balks, panicking. “what, kid? did i get the wrong color or somethin’?”

“rafe-” you say, voice quiet and whimpery, choked up with your crying. you pull him into a hug, crawling into his lap, softly sobbing into his neck. he’s scared shitless for a second, wondering what the hell he did wrong because he thought you would love it—since you’re always blabbing on and on about how you like it when he marks you up and everyone knows who you belong to. he rubs your back and strokes your hair, wondering if he can take it back to get you one you’ll like, when you pull away to give him a hot, wet kiss. it goes on for minutes, your hands in his hair and his hands on your hips.

“wait, so you, you like it?”

“i love it, rafe.” you lean back in to finish the kiss. when you pull away, you’re not smiling like you usually are. “but this is too much. you’re spending so much on me-”

“because i want to,” he interjects, eager to not let you finish your sentence.

“it’s not okay,” you whine, trying to pull away but rafe holds you firmly in place, still in his lap. “what’re people gonna think if they see-”

“who cares what they think? ‘cause i don’t. if i wanna get something shiny for my girl, i’m gonna. no one’s gonna stop me, not even you.” he watches you take in his words, eyes wide and little head spinning. “now be a good girl, let me put it on.”

you comply automatically, like always, turning around and holding your hair up so he can put the necklace on easily. your body shivers at his touch, almost starts shaking when he clips the necklace into place and presses a kiss to the back of your neck, if he wasn’t holding you tight.

“now, what'd you say?”

“thank you, daddy.”

[st-el-la-luna]

El's COD Kinktober 2024

I figured this would be a good way to keep my blog alive. Expect short pieces, and missed days. But I will do my best

NSFW Minors DNI

1. SOMNOPHILIA: JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH

Soap wakes up to you moaning in your sleep. He helps you make your dreams a reality.

➳ gnlafab!reader, wet dreams, somnophilia, dry humping, fingering, premature ejaculation, use of "pup" once

2. Sensory Deprivation/Blindfolds: John Price x Reader

Somehow it's better when you don't know it's coming

3. Double Penetration: Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo Parra x Reader

Your Colonel and Sergeant comfort you the day after a bad date

4. Lingerie: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

You want to surprise Ghost for his birthday. Things go wrong, in perhaps the best way.

5. Mommy Kink: Philip Graves x Reader

After a particularly long mission and several bad months at the company, Graves' spirits are low. He needs someone to take care of him, to tell him he's good

6. Threesome: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick and König x Reader

KorTac has been working alongside Task Force 141 for a while now. Kyle has always had his eye on you, but it becomes clear that the Austrian giant feels the same. Tensions rise between the two until they decide to prove which of them is best once and for all

7. Restraints: Kim "Horangi" Hon-jin x Reader

Horangi is in debt to you and your going to teach him a lesson: either he pays you back monetarily or...

8. Body Worship: Alex Keller x Reader 

Alex thinks every inch of your body is perfect. And he won't stop telling you until he's sure you believe it too.

9. Face Sitting: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader

Gaz overhears you telling Soap you've never enjoyed receiving oral. He decides to change that

10. Exhibitionism: Nikolai x Reader

Nik likes to show you off whenever he can. The Task Force has been eyeing you too much as of late. He reminds them who you belong to.

11. Thigh Fucking: König x Reader

König is just too big

12. Breeding: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Mid-fuck, Ghost let's slip that he wants to be a mommy.

13. Overstimulation: Rodolfo Parra x Reader

After everything that happened with the Shadow Company, you're just glad to have him back. Your relief at his wellbeing quickly becomes more and, well, you have a lot of stress to work off. But he can take it.

14. Free Use: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader 

You and Kyle have an agreement. Whatever either of you want to do, whenever you want to do it. You both enjoy your agreement.

15. Blood Kink: Nikto x Reader

Nikto comes to your door, desperate. You tell him you can't, you're on your period. Blood has never bothered him before, why would it now?

16. Dry Humping: John "Soap" MacTavish x Reader 

You can't, it's a sin... Luckily even God leaves loopholes.

17. Uniform Kink: Philip Graves x Reader

He can't get enough of the way you look, all dressed up for this event. And you can't get enough of him in his dress uniform.

18. Cockwarming: Alejandro Vargas x Reader 

There's nothing Alejandro likes more than coming home to you. And to his second home, between your legs.

19. Pegging: Alex Keller x Reader

One of his friends bought it as a gag gift. You laughed. Alex didn't.

20. Oral Fixation: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader

Gaz notices how you've always got something in your mouth; a pencil, gum, a lollipop. He can tell it calms you. At a formal event, he senses your stress and gives you something to help ground yourself.

21. Corruption Kink/Loss of Virginity: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Reader

After months of dating and never doing more than make out, you ask Soap when you're going to, well, do it. His answer surprises you, and you learn something about yourself that's even more surprising.

22. Spit: König x Reader 

In the heat of an argument you spit at your Colonel's feet.

23. Choking: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

An accidental training misshap leaves Ghost reeling, you help pull him in.

24. Werewolf: Keegan P Russ x Reader

Little Red Riding Hood, you should know better than to wander the woods at night alone. Especially tonight.

25. Spanking: John Price x Reader

John decides to get you back for slapping his ass in front of his men.

26. Predator/Prey: Valeria Garza x Reader

You and Valeria play a game of hide and seek with a twist...

27. Praise: John Price x Reader

Joyn worries he isn't good enough, that he's gone too often. That he's a bad person. You assure him none of its true.

28. Boot Worship: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

You show Simon your new boots. He reacts unexpectedly.

29. Hair Pulling: John "Soap" MacTavish x Reader

You accidentally grab his hair during a spar. He moans like a whore.

30. Cumplay: Poly!141 x Reader

Soap had an idea for a fun game. You're just surprised he was able to rope the others into it too.

31. Wild Card

[heywardsdoll]

pope hates bringing you with him on a pogue mission. but usually you cry your way into it, fat tears welling in your eyes as you tugged on his shirt. and all he needs to cave in is seeing your pretty pout, and the way your eyes shine with sadness.

"i don't want to be left out. i really don't pope," you whisper, folding your arms as you hope he understands. pope raises his eyebrows before you tug on his t-shirt again.

it's here that he looks away from you, "shit, you can't do that to me. seriously, you can't just do that!" then you sniffle, a sorry sound and he seems to sigh, shoulders caving in as he tries to look anywhere but you. "fine, fine. grab your coat on the way out, it's kinda chilly outside."

that's pope. no matter what, even if he was mad at you, he was taking care of you. he's glare, even scowl as he saw you get what you want—but then soon after he'd be tucking your shirt in, or getting you some water because hydration is important, it's even worse with the pogues because you look like a baby. it makes it seem like you couldn't take care of yourself, but you couldn't help but flush every single time he holds you in your arms, or places a careful kiss on your forehead.

he's thoughtful, and it's horrible when he corners you to secretly kiss you when you're on the way to find the cross. theres something so intimate about him whispering about purpose, and how he's finally got what his ancestors wanted him. it's that feverish emotion that makes you want to be there for him.

but there are too many close calls, from the time pope got stung by bees, to rafe following you a few too many times.

sometimes you work at the grocery store, checking in people's stuff, telling the old lady where she can find cornstarch, and then helping the little boy who cried about his red lolly getting lost under the shelves, (his brother had kicked it under there.) pope would always come to find you, all sweaty and tired before you hung your hands over his head and then kissed him softly.

but one time he came a bit too late, and rafe had been your last customer. there was a shit-eating smile on his face, as he smirked before placing a pack of mint gum on the counter.

"is that all?" you muttered, trying not to look him in the eye. pope had told you about the type of person rafe cameron was, and for all you knew he could do what he wanted to do, and could get away with it, a hundred times. no one in the store except him, and it was almost six o'clock.

"yeah, uh," he drawled pulling out his couple of bucks, "keep the change."

you nodded putting the money into the cash register, the small ding of the register calming as you touched your necklace protectively. it's stupid, you know, but the pink taser gun that pope had jokingly bedazzled sticks to your side as a reminder as you could feel his eyes on you. rafe dark eyes followed you as you shut the cash register, giving him a cold smile. your hands are sticky with sweat.

suddenly he's almost out of the door, and you let out a sigh of relief before you here his almost-bored voice drone out. theres snark in his comment.

"tell your boy we're watching him. shit, uh–and," rafe laughed, a boisterous sound before winking, "tell him to stay on the low. it's dangerous out here and you don't wanna get caught with anything, you know?" then he grins, before popping a piece of gum in his mouth, teeth shining bright and you couldn't help but shiver.

later that night, you were hyperventilating so hard, pope had to put his arms over you and kiss you repeatedly, soft and soothing. you have to keep reaching for him to tell yourself pope was fine, and that rafe was just threatening for no reason, and that you were being overbearing.

"he's sick, and he's twisted pope! i want to keep you safe. please, please stay safe," you choked out, your hands to your side as you walked in circles. you kept taking sharp breaths as pope tried to calm you down.

pope had sighed, "doll, i will stay safe, but i don't like that he's talking about this stuff to you. i want to keep you away from it, i mean when i met your mom—" then he cocks an eyebrow in your direction, but then stops right there. it's almost condescending, knowing where this is going to go. he's telling you not to come, but you have to go with him because you have to keep him safe. you can't lose him, you just can't.

"are you saying i shouldn't come with you guys anymore?" you whisper out, a sharp warning in your voice as you bit your lip. he had looked away from you, and then raised his hands in defeat and the conversation was over.

but here you were, laying in his lap in the twinkie. you were completely wiped out as pope ran a hand over your face. you murmur something under your breath before snuggling closer to him. jj lets out a low whistle, wiggling his eyebrows, only to get a disapproving look from pope.

"she got you under her paws, doesn't she?" jj crowed, and you stir as pope rolls his eyes, looking at john b for support. john b just smiles, giving pope a pointed look. it was true, pope would do practically anything for you.

then comes the serious sigh. pope's eyebrows are creased, as he absentmindedly rubs circles on your shoulder. you smile softly in your sleep, warm as ever.

quickly enough jj snaps his fingers in pope's face, "hey man, what the hell was that sigh about? all wistful and shit." jj muttered, a confused look on his face before shaking pope.

"i-," pope started, before shaking his head, "nah, it's stupid." he's still got his hands on you, playing with the string bracelet that you gave him. it was a old thing, practically falling apart, and jj made fun of it.

now it's jj's turn to snort, shoving pope with an indignant expression "you stupid? c'mon what's got your pretty head in a ditzy?"

"i don't know. john b back me up on this but, i don't like seeing my girl around this stuff. it kills me, to see her racing after the same danger as us," pope muttered, groaning as he looked away from your face, "and the other day rafe cornered her and she was scared shitless."

then he shakes his head, "and you know what, i should be protecting her from that sort of stuff, but no, no!" he grins but it's full of resentment, "no, i'm introducing her to it."

now this has the boys attention. jj gave pope a sympathetic look, patting him on the back as john b nodded. the playful demeanour of the conversation stirred into something else.

"i get it, man. we all want to keep her safe," john b said, his voice calm and reassuring. "but she's tough. she's stronger than you think."

"yeah, but it's not just about being tough," pope replied, face screwed up with frustration, toying with a lock of your hair. "i know she's tough! tougher than me sometimes. but it's about not wanting her to be exposed to this shit at all. she deserves better."

quickly john b sighed, hand on the wheel and it was almost as if his dark circles were more evident than ever.

"you think i don't worry about sarah?" john b countered, his tone soft but firm. "i worry about her all the time, but she made her choice to be with us, to face whatever comes our way. it's the same with your girl. she chose to be with you, to stand by your side, no matter the danger."

pope sighed again, his hand still gently caressing your shoulder. "i know, i just... i don't want to be the reason something happens to her."

"then keep doing what you're doing," jj interjected, his voice surprisingly gentle. "protect her, look out for her. but don't push her away. she's here because she loves you, man. she wants to be with you, even if it means facing danger."

pope nodded, his gaze softening as he looked down at your peaceful face. "yeah, i know. it's just hard sometimes."

"it's hard because you care," john b said, offering a reassuring smile. "and that's a good thing. just don't forget to trust her, too. she can handle more than you think."

the conversation lulled as the twinkie rolled on through the night, the familiar hum of the engine a comforting background noise. pope could hear the birds chirp, and he settled his head on the window before getting up with a confused expression.

"shit, when did you guys get so smart?" pope groaned, "it was easier when i was surrounded by idiots,"

jj laughed, resting a hand on pope's shoulder. "took a page out of your book, maybe it's time you take a page out ours," he winked, nudging pope gently.

pope finally looked down at you, a soft sigh leaving his mouth as you stirred slightly, mumbling something in your sleep. and for what it was worth—pope smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently.

[after-witch]

Gum Line [Yandere Mahito x Reader[

Title: Gum Line [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: You need to get your teeth cleaned and Mahito wants to watch.

Word count: 1740

notes: yandere, mentions of death and violence, mentions of past injury on reader, reader is getting their teeth cleaned, Mahito

“You really don’t need to come,” you hissed lowly. “It’s fine. Really. It’s just a quick cleaning.”

Mahito puffed out his cheeks and peered through the glass door into the waiting room. “But I want to come. I’ve never been to a dentist. I want to see what they do to you.”

The receptionist was, at this point, staring at you and made a come-in gesture with her hands. You were standing out there too long for it to be normal. So you sighed and put your hand on the knob.

“Fine.” You bit out the words and regretted them as soon as they left your lips, but there was no taking it back. It didn’t matter, anyway. He was going to come in with or without your agreement.

“You can watch, just… just try to stay out of the way, okay? Please? I really need this cleaning.”

“Yay!” His cheer was too loud and too close, but he never cared about that, did he? Mahito wrapped his arm around yours and flung the door open with his other, only to pull you into the office with a giddy delight. To everyone else, it must have looked like you accidentally almost-tripped over the threshold after entering too quickly. 

“S-Sorry,” you said, breathless, smiling, to the receptionist. “I’m a bit clumsy today.”

She smiled back, all prim and professional. But you wondered what she must be thinking.  You were standing up far too straight, sweat on your forehead, and you’d just been standing there at the door muttering to yourself before you stumbled inside like a drunkard. 

“You know,” Mahito said, as you signed your name on the sign-in sheet, “you’ve gotten really good at making up lies on the spot!” 

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, and gritted your teeth instead. 

Why did Mahito make even the most everyday things in your life so complicated?

—

He pouted. Honest-to-goodness pouted. 

“You never open your mouth so nicely like that for me.” He rested his chin in his hand and furrowed his eyebrows. “I always gotta fight you for it." He pointed an accusatory finger at your chin. And you’re not even trying to bite her! No fair!” 

You choked a little on your spit. Couldn’t he just shut up–

“Are you doing all right?” She asked, pulling the tools out of your mouth for the moment. 

You closed your mouth and smiled tightly. “Mm-hmm. Sorry, I just have um, some dental anxiety, so…”

She wiped the scaler on your bib and moved the light up a little. Mahito followed the movement and began poking the bulbs.

“Do you think she’d mind if I broke this?” You almost said something, but he shrugged. “Ah, but the pieces would get into your mouth, and we’d be stuck here longer.”

The hygienist continued, not knowing that a curse which could end her life in a moment was hovering over her shoulder, pouting like a damn child.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry. Just raise your hand if you need me to take a break, okay?”

“Thank you,” you said, and opened your mouth wide to encourage her to continue. She did, returning to examine your teeth with the little mirror, poke here and there, get a good idea of what she needed to tackle first.

Good. The faster she worked, the sooner you could get out of here. The sooner you got out of here, the less likely it was that Mahito would act up.

Act up. Hah. As if his acts of violence were a toddler throwing a tantrum in the grocery store, chubby fists hitting the hard floor as he wailed because he was tired, bored, hungry, didn’t get the toy he wanted, did get the toy he wanted but now it wasn’t fun, the sky was blue and he wanted it green…

No, no, the comparison wasn’t entirely off, was it? Sure, he wasn’t throwing a fit because the store was out of strawberry milk (but he might, you thought, if he took a liking to it) but he might kill someone waiting in the congested line at the grocery store because he was tired of you running errands and wanted you back in your apartment.

And he might kill this hygienist, to have you fleeing home, away from the blood, the carnage, the screams. And because it would be amusing to him, even if you weren’t around. 

But the notion went beyond his tendency to pout, to be impulsive, to want what he wants when he wants it, didn’t it? He was always learning, always eager to learn. What he did know often felt instinctive and unfulfilled, and he was using you to stuff the gaps. Watching what you did and said.

Testing you, teasing you, seeing what he could take away from your ordinary personhood. Like someone who’d never lived among people finally making it to the big city, taking in the sights and sounds and world with eagerness. 

He was just so damn new. Sometimes you felt like he should be covered in a thin, slimy caul. Only you didn’t know if he would be better or worse if he lost it. 

Mahito waved one of his hands.

“You look like you’re thinking really hard. What are you thinking about?”

“Nuffing,” you said, with a mouthful of dental tools.

The hygienist pulled them out again.

“Sorry, you needed a break?”

Oops.

“Sorry,” you said. “I forgot to raise my hand. It’s okay now, I just got a little tense because my back tooth is a bit sore.”

“Oh, I’ll be more careful.” And the sharp tools went back inside your mouth.

Mahito was quiet for a while, which was both wonderful and terrifying. He was simply watching the hygienist work now. His eyes were intent on the repetitive movements of the scaler, the way she scraped your gum. You saw him look down at your hands–clenching the straps of your purse, as you always did at the dentist but especially so today–and back at your face.

He weaved around to the other side of the chair so that he could get in close to your face without risking knocking into the hygienist or the light fixture above your head.

“You’re bleeding a lot,” he said. “Is that normal? Is that why she keeps squirting water in your mouth? Why don't you just swallow it?” 

He ran a finger along your cheek, and you made a soft, high sound in your throat. The hygienist paused, but when you didn’t raise your hand or try to talk, she kept going. A small mercy.

“How much does it hurt? A lot? A little? Less or more than the time I broke your finger?” His pinky traced the beginning of a tear in the corner of your eye. You didn’t know if it was from the sharp pain in your gums or from the terror coursing through your veins. At his words, sure, but the very nature of this awful scenario was simply too much for you. 

In a moment, the woman who was simply doing her job to clean your teeth might be dead. The receptionist who probably gossiped with you to a coworker the second you were out of earshot might be dead. The people in the waiting room, the old man with an audiobook on tape and the little girl playing with the germ-ridden toys tucked in the corner–dead, dead, dead. Piles of pus and blood and bloated flesh.

You could be that, too. If he decided he wanted it. 

Mahito let his pinky slide delicately from your eye to your mouth. He touched the edge of your stretched lip, and when he brought it up to the light, you could see a smear of gum-blood.

A small tear finally made its way out of your eye. From the pain, that’s what the hygienist would tell herself. Maybe she would stop again, or maybe she’d be glad you were toughing it out, so she could move on to her next appointment quicker.

Mahito saw the tear and frowned. 

“Hey. Are you upset because I brought up the finger? You can’t be mad at me about that anymore, remember? It wasn’t on purpose–well, I didn’t mean to break it, anyway. And I fixed it, so...” He gazed down at your hands, clenched so hard around the strap of your purse that you had to reflexively relax them to keep them from aching. 

He looked so serious, so suddenly. It made your stomach do awful flips. 

“You’re the first person I’ve fixed, did you know that?”

You didn’t. 

“Normally I just play with humans. Take them apart. Turn them into something new. Experiment, experiment, experiment.” He sighed, almost dreamily. “It’s fun. Really! I’ve learned a lot. But with you–” 

He didn’t finish whatever thought he had. Instead, he sat down on the unused stool next to the dental chair, then, and took hold of your hands. It was nothing for him to pry your fingers away from your purse.

You hoped the hygienist wouldn’t look down–how strange would it look for your hands to be hovering in midair, like they were being held by nothing at all? 

If only he was nothing.

He squeezed your fingers.

“You don’t need to hold a bag, see?”

You raised your eyebrows.. You couldn’t ask the questions tumbling in your mind, and you’re not sure that you wanted to know the answers, anyway. 

Then the hygienist poked a particularly sensitive area behind your front teeth, and you flinched in the chair. You squeezed his hands tight. Reflexively, you told yourself. Reflexively.

Mahito glanced down at your intertwined hands. He looked serious again. Somber. Even soft, maybe? Or was that your imagination, pathetic, frightened as it was? You half-expected him to pat your hands and tell you that he was here, not to worry. Like your mom did when you were a kid and needed a root canal.

Then his gaze lifted suddenly and he grinned side enough to show you his gum line. He stuck his tongue out and poked one of his teeth, then spoke–you realized, with a bubble of sickness in your chest, that he’d given himself a second tongue. 

“I was thinking… if she has to pull out one of your teeth, do you get to keep it? Can I have it?” 

You groaned out a whimper, but the hygienist continued working.

Mahito didn’t let go of your hands.

[luveline]

an eddie/roan/reader request <3

roan loses a tooth and reader is freaking out asking if it hurt, if she’s okay, and roan is just excited bc that means the tooth fairy is gonna pat her a visit!!!

ty for your request ♡ eddie and roan. step mom!reader. 1.1k

Eddie's trying to prove to you that he can play Master of Puppets on the guitar, but it's been a long time since he was twenty. "Ah, fuck," he says, stumbling over another chord. "What the fuck. I thought muscle memory was supposed to remember things for me." 

"I think you need to prompt your muscles into remembering," you say, cross-legged on the armchair with a pint of vanilla ice cream in your lap. "Can you play my favourite again?" 

"Depends. What's in it for me?" 

"So much. I'll scratch your back all the way through Princess Polly tonight." 

He immediately sets his fingers against the first chord of your favourite song and begins to play. Your back scratching literally haunts him. He can be on a rolling board under a truck that stinks of dirt and old oil and he'll be dreaming of your fingernails and their gentle up and down, his face on your shoulder, in your neck, buried in your thigh, whichever way he lays down. A song for an hour of your touch is easy work. 

He suspects you like doing it as much as he likes getting it. You love taking care of him. You're good beyond words. 

Eddie watches you nod along to his playing happily, a spoon between your lips, a dot of melted cream on your chin, and he knows what he has to do. "I'd ask you to marry me if I hadn't already done it," he says. 

You cut into your ice cream with a delighted jaunt. "I'd say yes for sure. You can ask me again, if you like. After the song." 

"I'll ask you as many times as you want. I'll even throw in a free song—" 

The air rips apart with a signature Roan Munson scream, which is to say, it's impossible to tell if Roan is in immense pain or having the most fun of her life.

Eddie almost chokes putting down his guitar as you ditch your ice cream on the arm, half a second behind him as he races upstairs.

"What's wrong?" Eddie shouts as he goes. "What? What?" 

"Daddy!" she shouts as Eddie throws open her bedroom door, sitting on the heart-shaped rug beside her dollhouse. "Lookit!" 

You move his elbow aside to squeeze through the doorway. "Is that a tooth?" 

"It's my tooth!" 

"Oh my gosh, princess!" you yelp, kneeling down in the plush rug in front of her, your thumb on her pale chin. "You're bleeding! Aw, sweetheart, let me see."

Eddie blinks dazedly, bending down to take the tooth Roan offers. It's tiny and white with a hole at the bottom that's darker on the inside. He rolls it around in his palm. Is she really that age? he asks himself, looking unsurely between his hand and Roan where she beams on the floor. 

"There's blood on your dress, too," you say, fingers held delicately against her cheek. 

Eddie doesn't have ugly hands, but it's different to see you touch her. You're a sweet, careful woman when it comes to mothering, a soft touch through and through. "Can I see?" 

Roan tips her head back and opens her mouth. Clear as day is the gap in her pearly white teeth, a bottom tooth now gone. 

"What did you do?" Eddie asks knowingly. 

"Nothing! It felt wobbly so I just bit on my Prince Dylan until it felled out." 

"Baby," you murmur, wiping the bloody spit off of her lips, "you hurt yourself?" 

"It didn't hurt that much." 

"Maybe let's not force them, Ro. Teeth come out when they're ready. If you start pulling them out before they're ready you might have wonky ones. And you shouldn't hurt yourself," Eddie says, kneeling down next to you for the united front effect. 

Roan looks at least somewhat chastised. "Okay. I won't pull them out until they're ready. But now the fairy comes, right? The tooth fairy?" 

Eddie grins, endeared by his devious little monster. You curl your sleeve down to press the clean edge to her gum, a frown creasing your face. Roan winces and you flinch, tucking her hair behind her ears in apology. 

"Sorry, lovely girl." 

"It's fine!" she says, flashing her first gap-toothed smile. "Don't worry, mom, it's just a small ow." 

You soften at the name and drop your hand to hers. "Okay. I won't worry… you know your first tooth fairy and your last are the special ones, right?" 

You and Eddie take to whispering as the bath runs that night, a debate of the ages. You think losing your first tooth deserves a new bike, or at the very least a new custom princess dress from the boutique in Indianapolis. Eddie thinks it deserves a kiss and a crisp twenty dollar bill. 

Roan splashes suds at your socks and tells you to stop whispering so much. 

That night, after Eddie forfeits half of his back scratching time to let you cuddle Roan, he sneaks into Roan's room with twenty dollars and a note. 

"Can we take another picture?" you whisper from behind hjm. 

"I think the flash might wake her up," he whispers back, the two of you standing still at the foot of her bed. She's clutching Teddy to her chest, curls splayed over her pink pillow, one of her feet sticking out of the sheets. "The first picture was really cute, we'll be fine." 

Roan smiled to show off her gap with her small tooth held up to lense. Eddie's gonna get it printed and maybe framed. She looks like a kid in the clothes catalogues. 

Together, you and Eddie tiptoe to her pillow to retrieve the lost tooth and replace it with her boon. Inspired by her statue-like stillness, Eddie leans down to press a kiss into her hairline, trying hard not to wake her up. 

Roan affords him no such luxury in the morning. "Dad!" she shouts, straight into his ear canal. He chokes awake. "The tooth fairy said you'd buy me a scooter! Is that true?" 

"Only if you stop yelling," he whines, burying his head under the pillow. 

Roan climbs onto the bed and over his back. He groans as his back clicks, settles when you put a hand on his shoulders sympathetically. 

"Your fault," he says. You're the one who campaigned for a new scooter. 

"Sorry, handsome," you say. 

Eddie will feel much more forgiving in a couple of hours. 

[eatmyass-x]

“What do you mean you didn’t bring the fob?” The bubble of Wei Ying’s bright pink bubblegum pops as he speaks.

“I mean I didn’t bring the fob,” Nie Huaisang shrugs.

“So then how did we get back in?” It’s three o’clock in the morning and they’re standing in the foyer of Jiang Cheng’s fancy apartment building, in front of an elevator that cannot be operated without a security fob. Their arms are laden with snacks and Wei Ying is chewing five different flavours of bubblegum together. It’s an interesting combination.

“The door was open.”

Wei Ying turns back to look at the main entrance. It was open when they stepped out of the building to go hunt for the unhealthiest, ungodliest snacks the local 24-hour convenience store could provide, and had remained open this whole time, right until the two of them stepped back inside.

“We'll just have to use the stairs then.”

“Jiang Cheng lives on the fourteenth floor,” Nie Huaisang screeches in alarm.

“Exactly.” Wei Ying pops his gum again. “Easy peasy!” But when he tries the door that leads to the stairwell, the door does not open. So he tries again. And again. But the door refuses to budge. “Don’t tell me we need a fob to use the stairs too.”

Beside him Nie Huaisang taps on a sign with a well manicured fingernail and reads, “The stairs cannot be accessed without a fob.”

“Fuck.” Wei Ying squints at the empty security desk. “Jiang Cheng will have to come down to let us in.”

“He’s going to be so pissed off,” Nie Huaisang says, but takes out his phone to message Jiang Cheng anyway.

Several minutes pass as they wait for Jiang Cheng to respond. Wei Ying watches as Nie Huaisang taps irriatedly at his phone, his frown getting deeper and deeper. “What is it?”

“He hasn’t read any of my messages, but they’re all going through so I know his phone is on.”

“Maybe he’s in the shower or taking a shit, or something.” Although Wei Ying remembers Jiang Cheng complaining about the time of night and how much he wanted to sleep. “Try ringing him instead.”

Nie Huaisang nods and puts his phone to his ear. Wei Ying leans against the wall and waits.

And waits.

Eventually it becomes more than clear that Jiang Cheng is not going to pick up. “He’s probably fallen asleep,” Wei Ying groans and slides down the wall to slump onto the ground, nearly choking on his bubblegum. He spits the now discoloured lump out into a tissue with a grimace.

Nie Huaisang follows him down and buries his head in his knees. “What do we do now?”

“Break in?” Wei Ying suggests, and gets a disparaging look from Nie Huaisang in response. “What? I could totally break in! Remember when—”

“Yes, I remember,” Nie Huaisang cuts him off. “I know for certain that you’d be able to break in. But I’m really not in the mood to get arrested tonight, Wei Ying. Please.”

“Well, what else can we do?” He’s already eyeing the security system, thinking up ways he might be able to bypass it. A packet of gummies hits him square in the head. “Hey!” Wei Ying scowls at Nie Huaisang and tears into the packet. “If only Jiang Cheng had a girlfriend so we could call her to come let us in instead,” he says around a mouthful of gummy mush.

“Yeah, if only pigs could fly,” Nie Huaisang scoffs.

Wei Ying gasps, “I’m going to tell him you said that!”

“Right now I wouldn’t care if you told him I fucked his mom. As long as he wakes up and lets us in!”

“I’m going to tell her you said that,” Wei Ying tells him with a grimace, unable to stop images of Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng’s mom getting it on popping into his head.

“She’ll fuck us both up, and you know it.”

“That’s if we ever make it out of here alive. This whole building is a death trap!” Wei Ying gestures aggressively around the place. “What if there was a fire? Or the emergency services needed to get in? Or an axe murderer was chasing us? What would we do then?” He puts on an overly saccharine voice and bats his eyelashes, “Oh sorry, Mr Murderer. Please give me a moment while I go and fetch my fob.”

Nie Huaisang grabs the packet of gummies from him. “Rich people don’t give a fuck about safety regulations,” he shrugs. “The building has a gym, pool and a sauna.”

“A sauna?” Wei Ying perks up. “Why didn’t Jiang Cheng tell me?”

“Because he's a hater.”

“That he is.” Wei Ying fluffs up the large family pack of chips they’d bought and places it on the ground to use as a pillow. The marble floor is cold and hard beneath his outstretched body, but otherwise the building is mostly warm. He closes his eyes and settles in. He’s slept in much worse places than this.

“Are you really going to sleep here?” Nie Huaisang sounds appalled.

Wei Ying cracks one eye open. “You won’t let me break in, so what other choice do I have?”

After staring at him morosely for several long moments, Nie Huaisang sighs and balls his jacket up to make a pillow for himself. “Well, at least we’re not trapped in your apartment building. The rats would have eaten us alive.”

“They’d be better company than you,” Wei Ying huffs.

Instead of responding, Nie Huaisang sits back up and punches his balled up jacket several times. “This pillow is shit.”

Wei Ying’s own makeshift pillow crunches loudly under his head. “Should we sixty-nine instead?”

“What?!” Nie Huaisang shrieks, his face rapidly draining of all colour.

“As in, you sleep on my ass and I sleep on yours. Although I’m not quite sure how it’ll work.” He uses his hands to try and figure out the positions they would need to be in. “And my ass is way juicier—”

Nie Huaisang interrupts him with a gasp. “Brilliant idea!”

“What, sixty-nineing?”

“No.” He gives Wei Ying a disgusted look. “Using grindr.”

“What?!” Now it’s Wei Ying’s turn to shriek. “This is not the time nor the place for hookups!” He looks around at the confined space of the foyer in distress. “Are you planning to have sex in front of me?”

“No, you idiot,” Nie Huaisang says, pulling his phone out once again. “I’m gonna try and use it to find someone who lives in this building so that they can let us in.”

“That’s a great idea!” Wei Ying crawls over and makes grabby hands at him. “Huaisang, I could kiss you on the mouth!”

Nie Huaisang pushes him away. “You’re not my type, Wei Ying. How many times do I have to tell you?”

Wei Ying laughs, “Fuck off, I’m everyone’s type.” But his laughter quickly fizzles out when he sees the look on Nie Huaisang’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“My phone just died.” He flips it around to show Wei Ying his phone screen; completely dark and unresponsive.

Wei Ying takes Nie Huaisang’s jacket, wraps it around his own neck and says, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t end it all right now.”

“Oh, don’t be overdramatic.” He waves a hand dismissively at Wei Ying. “We can just use your phone instead.”

The jacket falls limply out of Wei Ying’s hands. “But I’m not gay!”

“I’m not asking you to suck dick, just download the app.” When he makes no move to comply, Nie Huaisang snatches Wei Ying’s phone out of his hand and downloads the app for him. Wei Ying watches with terror as the unfamiliar black and yellow icon appears on his homescreen. It takes just a few clicks before he’s got a profile up and running for Wei Ying to use. “Here.”

Wei Ying takes his phone back from him with a visibly shaky hand. “What if they want sex?”

“Then you give them sex,” Nie Huaisang shrugs.

“What!”

“I’m just kidding.” He huddles close so that they can both go through the app together.

Wei Ying has no idea how grindr even works so he lets Nie Huaisang take the reins. But that doesn’t save him from having to see a throbbing hard penis in high definition right off the bat. He yells in fright and nearly tosses his phone into the wall.

“Don’t be a baby,” Nie Huaisang laughs. “It’s just a dick!”

“Yeah, well—” Wei Ying splutters. “Find someone less… aroused!”

Nie Huaisang snickers at him and then disparagingly narrates his way through a few profiles until he comes to a stop. “Oh, this guy looks normal. Message him.”

“Why should I—” he begins, but the rest of the words immediately die in his throat when he lays eyes on the profile. Fuck. The man on his phone screen is beautiful. Face of a movie star and built like an underwear model. Wei Ying can’t make himself look away from his golden eyes, or the terribly low-slung waistband of his sweatpants.

“Earth to Wei Ying!” Nie Huaisang punches him in the arm. “Message the guy. I’m pretty sure he lives somewhere in this building. He might be able to let us in.”

Wei Ying almost tells Nie Huaisang to message him himself and then realises that he doesn’t want that. For some strange, inexplicable reason, he wants to talk to the guy himself. Wei Ying swallows to wet his dry throat and croaks, “He’s too… He’s probably a catfish.”

“Who cares? It’s not like you’re looking to marry him,” Nie Huaisang rolls his eyes.

Wei Ying’s cheeks turn embarrassingly red. “What if he’s an axe murderer?” But he’s already typing out a message.

WY (03:55): Heyyy

“That’d be kinda hot, if you ask me,” Nie Huaisang says, biting his lip. Wei Ying gives him a disgusted look, but when he sees the guy’s picture again he can’t help but imagine him wielding an axe and covered in blood and woah. Wei Ying feels a bit dizzy.

Nie Huaisang reads the message he’s sent and nudges him. “Why are you messaging him like you do want dick after all? Tell him straight up that we’re trapped and need help.”

Wei Ying scowls at him but does as told.

WY (03:55): Do you live in lotus apartments?

WY (03:56): This might be a bit weird but my friend and I are trapped in the foyer on the ground floor cos we forgot to bring a fob

WY (03:56): Pls can u help us 🥺

Several long minutes pass but they don’t get a response from the guy, even though he’s definitely seen the messages. Wei Ying can’t help the pang of disappointment he feels.

“Maybe he thinks you’re lying to get into the building, or something. Just try someone else,” Nie Huaisang suggests.

But Wei Ying doesn’t want to do that, so instead he snaps a picture of himself looking pleadingly up into the camera, eyes wide and lips pouted, the same look that always convinces Jiang Yanli to give him an extra helping of dessert. Then he takes a quick picture of Nie Huaisang where he’s once again slumped across the floor with his jacket over his face, the foyer easily recognisable in the background.

WY (04:06): I promise I’m not lying look

WY (04:06): [2 images attached.]

WY (04:06): PLEASE 🥹

WY (04:07): We’ve literally been stuck here for over an hour

He’s still typing when a blue reply bubble pops up on screen.

LZ (04:07): Coming.

WY (04:07): What?

WY (04:07): To help me?

WY (04:08): TO HELP ME RIGHT????

Wei Ying’s momentary relief quickly turns into panic when he doesn’t get any further replies from the guy. He stands and starts to pace around, ignoring Nie Huaisang’s huffing. When the light above the elevator lights up, indicating that someone is on their way down, he knows he should feel relieved that the guy is coming to help him, and not anything else. But instead he feels jittery all over. He’s not sure what would be worse, if the guy really is a catfish and looks nothing at all like his pictures, or if he looks exactly like them. The elevator pings. Wei Ying wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans and turns to face the metal doors as they slide open.

The man that steps out of the elevator is the farthest thing from a catfish. Six-foot-something tall and bathed in the warm glow of the foyer lights, he’s somehow even more attractive in person than he was in his pictures.

Wei Ying feels his breath catch in his throat. “Wow. Fuck.” The words spill out of his lips unbidden and Wei Ying has to slap his hands over his mouth to keep it shut.

The man slowly looks him up and down, amused. “Likewise.” His voice is deep and gravelly.

Wei Ying’s whole body heats up. “I mean— You’re not a catfish. You’re…” Beautiful. Breathtaking. A dream. Every single word that comes to mind cannot be voiced out loud.

“Lan Zhan,” the man offers.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying repeats the name. It makes itself at home on his tongue. He licks his lips and sticks his hand out. “Wei Ying.”

Lan Zhan looks even more amused as he takes Wei Ying’s proffered hand. On anyone else the look might come across as cocky, over confident, but on him it just looks good. Instead of shaking Wei Ying’s hand he gives it a light squeeze, thumb stroking over the back of Wei Ying’s hand, and makes no move to let go. Wei Ying does not want him to.

“Ahem!” Nie Huaisang coughs loudly from behind.

Wei Ying reluctantly turns to look at him, still not letting go of Lan Zhan’s hand. Nie Huaisang has gathered all their snacks from the ground and is tapping his foot impatiently. He’s almost invisible behind all the junk food in his arms but he still manages to look irritated. Wei Ying rolls his eyes. “Thank you so much for coming to help us, Lan Zhan. We would’ve had to spend the whole night down here if it wasn’t for you.” His palm is so warm and large against Wei Ying’s. “You’re a saviour!”

“There is no need to thank me.” He tilts his head towards the elevator. “Which floor do you need?”

“Fourteen. My brother—” The word feels much lighter, easier than it used to, “—lives here. He’s probably fast asleep in his room right now with his phone on fucking silent. Me and Huaisang went out to get snacks and forgot to bring the spare fob with us.” He follows Lan Zhan into the elevator when the doors reopen, Nie Huaisang trailing along behind them. “What would we have done without you, Lan Zhan?” He bats his eyelashes. Just a little.

“Oh, I know you,” Nie Huaisang chimes.

Wei Ying doesn’t like the sound of that at all. Does he mean he’s come across Lan Zhan on grindr before and hooked up with him? He whips around to frown at Nie Huaisang and surreptitiously makes a very rude gesture to inquire whether the two of them have had relations before. A dick sucking gesture.

And then he looks up and realises that all four walls of the elevator have mirrors on them, and Lan Zhan has just seen him make that exact gesture. Wei Ying wants to die.

“No,” Nie Huaisang shakes his head. “We’ve just bumped into each other a couple of times when I’ve come to visit Jiang Cheng.”

“Oh.” Wei Ying turns back to face Lan Zhan with a sheepish smile, running his hand through his hair. “I see.”

Lan Zhan’s pretty eyes track the movement of his hand. “I have not seen you around before.”

“Yeah, um.” Wei Ying eyes the phone in Lan Zhan’s hand. He figures he has to explain himself now. “I’m not, I’m not really—” But the rest of his sentence feels stuck in his throat. It had been perfectly easy to yell, ‘I’m not gay!’ at Nie Huaisang but now Wei Ying struggles. “I’m not on grindr,” he says instead. “I only downloaded it to find someone who could let us into the building. I don’t—” and this bit feels important for some reason. “I don’t do hookups.”

“Mn.” The intensity of Lan Zhan’s gaze does not waver. “But I meant that I have not seen you around in the building before.”

“Oh!” Wei Ying wants to punch himself in the head. “Of course. Yes, I— My brother. Jiang Cheng. We’re good now, but we fell out a few years back. So this is my first time visiting his place.”

“That explains it,” Lan Zhan nods. “I would have remembered a face like yours.”

Wei Ying’s heart does something funny in his chest.

“Can someone please hit the button?” Nie Huaisang groans.

Wei Ying nearly jumps out of his skin. He’d forgotten there was someone else in the elevator with them. It’s impossible to look away from Lan Zhan, despite Nie Huaisang’s huffing and moaning. Like there’s a magnet beneath the surface of his skin, somewhere inside his ribcage, pulling him towards the man.

The elevator hardly even jolts as it begins its ascent upwards, but Wei Ying stumbles anyway, a step and a half closer to Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan steadies him with a hand around his waist, warm through the thin, threadbare cotton of his two sizes too small t-shirt. Wei Ying looks up at him through his eyelashes, his own hand coming to rest on Lan Zhan’s chest, sturdy and firm under his tentative fingers.

“Which floor do you live on, Lan Zhan?” he asks. His voice comes out low, murmured in the air between them.

“Thirteen.” Lan Zhan’s hand slowly travels further along his waist, slipping just slightly underneath his shirt.

“Right below us!” Wei Ying gasps. The gasp is less to do with Lan Zhan’s words and more to do with the touch of his hand. “Lan Zhan…” he breathes, watching Lan Zhan watch him chew at his bottom lip. “Do you think it’s fate?”

“Maybe.” There is laughter in Lan Zhan’s eyes, but it doesn’t feel mocking. It feels indulgent, good enough to drown in.

“Yo, what the fuck…” Somewhere far away Nie Huaisang sounds like he’s drowning in disbelief. Wei Ying has never found it easier to ignore him.

The elevator pings as it comes to a stop, breaking Wei Ying out of his reverie. Lan Zhan follows them out onto Jiang Cheng’s floor to let them through the final set of doors with his fob. Nie Huaisang is quick to push past them and make his way into Jiang Cheng’s unlocked apartment, muttering something distinctly homophobic under his breath and slamming the door shut behind him.

Wei Ying on the other hand, loiters in the hallway, unwilling to part ways with Lan Zhan. He doesn’t know how to draw this out any further without saying anything, but for the first time in his whole life words are evading him entirely. When he looks up at Lan Zhan, he finds him already looking back at Wei Ying, still as indulgent, still as beautiful.

“It’s not my apartment or I would invite you inside…” he finally says, mustering up as much courage as he can. His intention could not be any clearer. He can feel as his face heats up with a vivid blush.

“It is late—”

“Of course.” Wei Ying’s heart sinks. “Yes, of course. Sorry…” he laughs awkwardly. Lan Zhan had only come to help them and here was Wei Ying, practically throwing himself at the man. “Thank you so much for helping us, Lan Zhan. I won’t keep you any longer.” He thinks about getting Lan Zhan a box of chocolates or something of the sort tomorrow to thank him properly for his help. At least it’ll give him a reason to see him again. He really hopes it won’t come across as too desperate. “Thank—”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan interrupts his awkward rambling. “What I mean to say is that nothing will be open at this time of night. Will you let me take you out tomorrow?”

“Out?” Wei Ying’s mind screeches to a halt.

“For lunch,” Lan Zhan says. “Or dinner, if you’d prefer.”

“Oh. You…” Wei Ying blinks. Hope bubbles all through his body and pours out of his big, stupid mouth, “So you’re not going to just hit it and quit it?”

“No. Not unless that is what you’re looking for?” Lan Zhan quirks a brow up in question.

“No,” Wei Ying is quick to correct. “No, no. A date.” And it is with no small amount of astonishment that Wei Ying realises he is feeling shy. Something he has never, ever felt before. “A date, right?” he asks hesitantly.

“A date,” Lan Zhan confirms with a smile.

[moongoopy]

no way out

cont: reader has lost about everything so why not lose themselves too?

c/w: reader has anxiety and depression, dubcon, reader getting kidnapped, yandere characters, reader is an artist, death (not reader or the duo), dark content, family problems, blood, reader constantly relapses from self harm, manipulation, harassment (not from duo)

a/n: damn thats crazy. funny how i end it almost the same like my other scenario lolololol, reqs open!

c: geto x reader x gojo

it was the last year of college and it was like you slaved away at your school work that it was numbing to even do your hobbies.

the light in you was dying that your heart should've stopped years ago.

no parties can save you.

you threw away the invitation for the college party, everything was blur to you. too much responsibility on your shoulders and no shoulder to cry on, your roommate no less too busy with his own life to go fuck himself over some girl he broke up with and you slip away everytime you were close to talking to him. he wouldn't listen anyways, head too busy in the clouds as he loses himself again.

the miscalls from your family didn't bother you anymore, it was aggravating to text them back everytime they remembered you so you pretend such a nuisance doesn't exist until it's too late.

"atleast pretend to care"

you told yourself in the mirror, eye twitching from your toothbrush that fall at your feet when your hand collided with the sink. you were worse for wear, eyebags getting darker as you thumbed through social media and letting a few minutes pass before picking up the brush.

instead of calling back, you left a long line of texts with another brand new line of excuses to shut them up with a bunch of emojis for some normalcy. you cleaned up the brush before applying another line of toothpaste onto it and slumped, remembering how money was also running low. thankfully, you didn't share money with your roommate or anything but inflation was upon us.

no way you wanted to ask from your family. they fared well but it was like a hit list on how much you'd ask them and that when you get back home, they'll use it against you and scream in your face while you're strung up limbly like a doll by not responding at all. a response is asking for a fight, no response is to defuse their thoughts by letting them pile ontop of you until they move onto another thing to complain about.

you nearly choke at the taste of blood and pulled away from your toothbrush, red coated your tongue and the gums of your teeth before they quickly get washed off including your grimy face.

another shower may do you good before you worry more about other things. should it be saving up more money or that you haven't come to work for two days now?

oh, this is killing you, why couldn't you just turn the cutter towards your neck? you'd sob so loudly when the blood on your thighs washes over and the cuts burn and twist your skin in and out that you desperately grabbed onto the shower walls. staring down at your scars that barely heal, you made sure to pick pants that wouldn't bother your battered skin. your mind lingers again, the pressure of the water against your head calmer than the caress of your mother's hand combing through your hair.

how did it went downhill in your life?

the folks here were seperated into systems of the typical tropes of college but you weren't treated that badly. there were stares and badmouthing but it never harmed you. so college wasn't the problem.

or maybe it was the relative that passed where you bawled so hard over? yet, you'd never really known them, having correlations towards your passion and attitude only. seemingly called a reflection of them by your other family members but the memory of said late relative lingers in your head sometimes like the wax that's left after the flames took it out but it can only be reshaped if you want to.

but you never pried into the past of that relative so it couldn't be.

you lost yourself way before the impending family problems and countless homeworks you had that the addicting press off the cutter felt more like home than home ever was.

no, dont go back there, it wont help.

drying yourself off, you decided you should atleast take the night shift. clothes tossed on, you couldn't slump around this time. you had something due in a week so maybe work was better to focus on at the moment. passing your roommate's room, you nearly stumbled out the door. night was fast aporoaching this time, it made you ill. the sun or the moon was something you could tell apart from the slow days that passed, without it was living like you're dying.

you took the shortcut, a creepy alleyway but if you were quick; you didn't have to deal with any drunkards and steadily walked. you clutched your earphones in your hand as you tried to listem for any noise that can ruin the night and jumped back to somebody that reached out for you.

"hey there..!"

the man drawled, oh god.

he was drunk or rather high with how hard he was clutching something in his hands but nonetheless it creeped you out, you walked hurriedly away from him.

it was amazing on how stupidly quick he was. his eyes were rolling to the back of his head and drool smearing his lips as he pursues you. your sling bag slipped from your arm which was held tight incase you needed to hit him.

the road down was getting slippery just a bit near to the cornerstore where you worked at, you could dissappear through the backdoor incase he gave chase. or was that a bad choice? he'd know where you work at if he remembered a part of you. thats why you didnt want to yell back incase he recognizes it if he scuttles into your work place and do god knows what there. not a lot of people were around at the hours you work at too.

tears spilled from your eyes, you always were the fearful type. thats why you havent died, just the thought of dying was perfect for you but never the action. you could die in this situation, what if he had a knife. you didnt want that. such an unflattering way to die by some weirdo whose name will be forgotteen after a few days of town talk.

you wanted to die but not this, no!

you swerved the corner and you heard the man gasp.. or choke?

you turned back immediately and another man was holding him by the throat, slamming him back on the graffitied wall with a dangerous glare towards the creep.

"get the fuck out of here!" was enough for the man to whimper and cry, running away back to the alleyway and his footsteps faded away slowly but if you just listen a little closer, he was really running for his life in his drunken stupor.

the stranger's fist was a bit bloody, you didnt know where he had hit himself, hell was that even his blood?

"shit, thank you.."

you exhaled sharply, you had held your breath so long eversince you had turned around. your heart beating so fast to what you thought was gonna happen if the creep caught up with you. this white haired stranger smiled widely, a bit too wide for almost beating up a man and walked towards you.

"you okay? theres been a lot more creeps lately. that must've shaken you up, do you need..?"

he opens his arms up to which you shifted akwardly, hand on your arm. should you? he saved your life and you haven't hugged anybody for a while. hell, you needed something to stop your panic and nearly fell right into his arms. he chuckled, rubbing your back in comfort as he fumbles with something in his bag in the other hand.

"where were you headed? i'll take you there. who know what other weirdos are out here."

you nodded slowly, feeling more at ease when both of his arms wrap around you. you wanted to stay in his chest for a while, scent so nice to inhale but you pulled away swiftly. wow, nearly caught yourself being the creep, this was revolting. you haven't felt affection in the longest time that some stranger's arms were what stabilize you, it was almost embarassing. you might as well ask him to bed you with how you nearly nuzzled into him.

you turned around and he slipped his fingers between yours which was a bit peculiar.

he laughed boyishly, putting his hands up defensively.

"sorry, its just instict. im worried about you!"

looking at him again, he was very pretty. such nice lashes fluttering at you as he utters his words and you shook your head almost mechanically. you dont get a lot of nice strangers like this often, it nearly made you feel too relaxed. it was fine, he probably goes through this with other people that walk alone at night and get disturbed by whatever.

"i'm kinda late now to my work.. but its fine, can you back me up?" he did a thumbs up before walking with you, finally turning the corner and seeing the signboard of the convenient shop lit up. you looked up at him, wanting to thank him again before one of his arms slip behind your waist and your vision becomes blurry.

a car drove past, stopping beside the two.

your limbs felt heavy and you started seeing black and he held you close.

"don't worry, i'll do more than back you up."

------------

this was warm. it felt too warm like a mother's womb. or was that a strange way to describe this feeling? maybe it was more thicker than the blankets you had back at your home or maybe it wasn't your blankets at all?

you woke up in a sweat, head aching with great pain as you let your eyes adjust to the dark.

what was going on?

why was the stranger that helped you was here? legs held to his chest as he watches a movie while another stranger combs through your hair and he was so close, you'd nearly scream. chains rattle and your feet feels so cold. you were so disoriented that whatever noise you managed out of you made the stranger from earlier made him whip his head back.

"it's okay, y/n. we'll explain."

he moved so quick that he was right next to you, gripping your chin so suddenly which made you back up. he held onto you by your clothes and it made the fabric stretch, these weren't your clothes either. just what the fuck was going on?! you screeched, tearing away from him and it made the other stranger hold onto the other's wrist.

"satoru, don't act like a hooligan. you're scaring them"

the one named 'satoru' backed off, chuckling and putting his hands up defensively like how he did before except the look in his eyes were so much more carnal than ever before.

"cmon, its natural to get excited to have your plan work out. on such a random night and way more early than your intended timing, suguru?"

it was like a challenge for 'suguru' to bite back but he couldn't care less and looked back at you. it was eerie. his eyes a swirl of purple and such an illusion had you staring back into them which gave him a chance to touch you even more where he adjusted your clothes and patting them back to how it originally look.

"how'd you feel, darling? i'll explain, we three go to same college, remember us?"

you only had to a bunch of people remembered in your head that anymore than that, you dont bother to remember but their names were farmiliar. people do talk about them all the time so would you shake your head or nod? nonetheless, satoru butts in and thumbs your lips.

"so? speak up, your voice's too pretty to just nod as a response~"

you pulled away, a rush of tears rolling down your face at the realisation of how messed up this situation was. two men in this cold room. you were kidnapped. you didn't know whether to scream or bite back when they started cooing and wiping at your tears. it felt so insulting when they talked like you weren't there, you wanted to quale with anger but your eyes snap back to the shackles on your feet. they notice that you knew, suguru shoves his finger onto satoru's lips before he said something else that could trigger you.

"well, sweetheart. i know all of this can be scary but none of this is to hurt you-"

"how the hell, what the hell do you mean by that? you kidnap me to just look at me, is that what you're telling me!?"

that came out in one breath that you paused, your sobbing stop a bit. this was bad. oh no, you weren't rational. well, you were never rational but in this situation with two strangers from college, they could easily chuck you in a body bag and call it a day. your sniffling gets louder when suguru pressed his thumb into your cheek and turned your head towards him.

his expression was almost indescribable. was he angry? was he amused? was he planning things? this was making you dizzy. they might talk about killing your right here right now too as they had no shame to cover up their plans of kidnapping you. but a small huff was let out from his lips as he held your face so tenderly.

"i know, this situation cam be scary but we've seen you around college. your artwork is just astounding and we wanted to go look for you, such an artist should hear our praise from us and yet you were nowhere to be found." satoru's brows quirked up when your eyes started gleaming a bit but blinking fast to try to hide some care into his words.

"when we found out how you've been so down in your mental issues, it saddens us. your teachers told us how you looked deeply affected by them. that you've been so lonely.." your chest starts heaving when he got so close to your face and your feet kicked the floor to slip away from him only for satoru to hold you from behind.

"we decided to keep you here as our little darling."

you blinked up, eyes twitching.

so they only saw you as entertainment that you were about to push them away from you and spit at them until satoru held your hand and kissed it, taking in your scent.

"sure, its the most foul thing to ever be called by us but we promise you're gonna enjoy it here!"

his arm slips from behind your neck and pulled you close to your chest, snickering when you tried to get away from him. his lips inch close to your ear and he whispers.

"we want to make you feel much better, away from everything you're experiencing and we want to talk about your passion too. wouldn't you like that? we'll provide it all for you. just say the word~"

your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head from the tears you squeezed out painfully. this had to be a joke. what was even going on anymore? your life had to be an absolute joke, you should've joined that one relative in death too.

but a life with them where your problems are almost nonexistent was just peaceful, did you died to get into this position. your crying had calmed down again. you looked up at them in worry, were they really telling the truth? a kiss was pressed softly on the forehead by suguru and his smile reached his eyes with such tenderness.

"you need time to process this, you can go back to sleep and think about it when you wake up.."

"orrrr enjoy your favourite!"

satoru popped open a bag from the restaurant you liked to go to but haven't in a while and the smell was just strong enough to taste it. your eyes linger to a pillow suguru held out for you and you'd nearly keel over. it was your pillow from your dorm and it made your head swirl in confusion.

just who are these two? why do they know so much when they heard you through passing? there was so much questions that they shut down with a kiss and slot their bodies right next to you.

but one thing was certain, you're not getting out of this soon.

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Sixteen

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: angsty angst… it’s not getting better anytime soon lol and a few cuss words.

Notes: Ngl this one is a little light on the word count(so sorry!), but ya girl has been dealing with a week of no power following a hurricane… This chapter still hurt me in the chest, but I’m trying to be patient while I get to the juicy bits! If the name I have for your blog isn’t working, please let me know and I can fix it asap for you!

Word Count: 1300

Series Masterlist

• Late September, 2005 • Forks HS •

Reader

Getting involved romantically with a vampire - what’s there to lose?

Everything, apparently.

To include my sanity, my piece and fucking quiet too.

“Did you finally scare him off? Or did he realize he could do better and run for the hills?” Lauren Mallory sneers, Forks High School’s resident bitch.

Her manicured hand slowly slides up my locker door and snaps it shut, I manage to snatch my hand back in time to avoid the thin metal before it could do any damage.

Rolling my eyes, I turn and head towards my next class silently, not in the mood to engage for fear of tossing fuel onto her fire. I can hear her cackle as I walk away, thankfully she doesn’t follow or I would’ve truly lost it.

Rounding the corner and finally out of her line of sight, I beeline for the nearest bathroom. Stumbling in, I push open the closest unoccupied stall and sit on the toilet, bag in my lap.

Eyes closed, deep breaths, it’s fine. Everything is fine. Her words mean nothing and they’re empty, she’s an opportunistic cunt and doesn’t know the situation. Her words mean nothing, Y/n.

Except they plant a seed of doubt anyways.

He did run for the hills, they all did. I told him I loved him and nothing. Gone, erased from my life, ripped off like a stuck band aid that leaves behind a red welt and a slight sting.

Except there’s nothing slight about the sting in my chest. Breathe Y/n, or you’ll lose the fucking plot and freak. With shaking hands, I pull out a pack of gum and unwrap a stick - something minty to focus on.

Two quick knocks on the stall door break me from my thoughts, “Occupied!” I manage to choke out.

“It’s me, you alright?” Angela Weber’s quiet voice rings out in the otherwise empty bathroom.

“Oh um, yeah. I-I’m okay.” The tremble in my voice is obvious, but thankfully she affords me the nicety of not commenting on it.

“Okay, well I just wanted to check on you.” A pause, “I saw what happened in the hallway, she’s wrong you know.” My breath hitches and I know she hears it. “Everyone saw the way he looked at you… Just know, she’s wrong.”

I watch under my stall door as her white tennis shoes disappear and the main bathroom door swings shut, quickly swallowing a sob trying to worm it’s way up my throat.

Some days he feels like a figment of my imagination, a dream I dreamt and can’t discern from reality. And some days I’m reminded that he was real, that he made me feel things I can’t get rid of.

Things I really wished I could get rid of.

One of the worst side effects of them being gone is how lonely I didn’t realize I’d be without them. I mean, from my first day here Jasper captivated me.

Now… Now everything seems dull and draining. A different kind of quiet that leaves me empty, a complete opposite to his comfortable silence. No one to talk to, no one to look forward to seeing, no one that understands.

Well, one person understands.

But she’s not exactly here enough to carry a conversation. Not that I can blame her, I’ve been avoiding people in my own way. They either ask about them and why they’re gone or they look at me with pity, both of which I don’t care to experience.

The days begin blurring together, the rain that’s always pouring over the Olympic Peninsula drowns everything constantly - almost as if the sky is sad in solidarity with me. Music seems too itchy and loud, books are too hard to focus on to just read what’s on the page, and just about anything else I could think of to get him off my mind is too… Complex. Stressful. Monumentous. Impossible.

Three familiar rapid, but soft knocks at my door snap me from the reverie of my silent room.

“Dinner is ready, sweetheart.” I think the crease between my mother’s brow is a permanent fixture nowadays, one that’s entirely my fault.

“I’m not really hungry.” Watching her face fall immediately has me scrambling for a cover, “But I’m sure I’ll be hungry later if you save some in the fridge.” The smile I give her isn’t fooling anyone, but at least I’m trying.

I have to try.

“Okay baby girl, you say the word and I’ll heat it up for you.” She lingers a few beats longer, her grip on the doorframe looks like it’s the only thing keeping her upright before she retreats downstairs.

My mom isn’t the most involved in my life and I prefer it that way, but Jasper being gone… The way it’s affected me is also taking its toll on her and it’s obvious. Guilt begins worming it’s way into my chest and prickles at the corners of my eyes, fuck.

I have to try.

• Late October, 2005 • Ithaca, New York •

Jasper

Life has been… extremely off-kilter since that night.

My hunger comes with a vengeance I’ve never experienced and my moods? They rival Rosalie’s and I’m supposed to be able to control them.

I’ve tried going longer between feedings to try and beat this crisis into submission, but it feels as though I’m fighting an uphill battle and I can’t see the crest of the mountain. I’m drowning and these feelings are dragging me further from the surface, the light is getting harder to see and my lungs are screaming.

Emmett hasn’t spoken to me this entire time out of frustration and I get it. The rest of my family is on pins and needles, the silence at home stretching open with every passing moment. Esme has been nothing but a pile of worry since Edward decided to become nomadic for a while. A temptation I myself feel, but can’t act on - not while my hunger is this volatile. Carlisle is working the night shift at a nearby hospital, our new location not as overcast as our previous one. Alice… Alice is angry. I catch her staring off into space more often than not and I know, the temptation to ask is on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to. Rose is strangely quiet, content to take care of small things around the house Esme would normally busy herself with and trying to cheer her mate up to no avail.

It all feels too much and not enough.

I know that if I could sleep, I would dream of her. I would try to at least. Try to remember her scent, the softness of her sweaters, the curve of her hip, the way she sinks into me when I hold her… White-hot flames lick me from the inside out and I close my eyes against the inferno, her smile a torturous image behind my eyelids. Get a grip - for fuck’s sake, you chose this to keep her safe.

I chose this to keep her safe.

I will keep her safe. Even if that means staying away from her, even if that means removing her, my heart, from my chest.

“I love you.”

Her confession rips through me even now, three of the most perfect combinations of words to grace those beautiful lips and I… Left her. Like a coward.

I left behind my heart on the driveway of a now cold and empty house. Alone. Unanswered.

But she’s safe. Safe from the monster crawling around under the surface of my skin, begging and pleading to be set free.

Safe from me.

Next

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@RavensandWriters -I couldn’t find your blog sweetheart! Your entry on google forms had spaces and I’m not sure if it might’ve auto-corrected, I’m so sorry!!🥺 if you see this, shoot me a PM or comment and I’ll fix it!

[presidentbungus]

Um, It's Kind of a Lot

demo/scout, demo&eyelander - 30k words

Read on Ao3

Lonely men find each other in a place that collects failures like baseball cards. Things don't take long to get complicated. The 600-year-old haunted sword is NOT happy about it Written with care for the 2024 TF2 Big Bang, with illustrations from toasty and George Henry

in other words: demoscoutheads come get yah mutual pining juice!! ignore the ancient cursed sword she is nice and will cause no problems or angst or anything of the sort

Excerpt under the readmore :)

Boy, Jeremy shoulda picked the pool table. About half the party's grouped around it, shooting shots, yukking it up, and he's over at the side of the room, standing alone with an empty cup in one hand and a bunch of darts in the other, like a dipshit. Staring at a bunch of old guys with huge axe-murderer scars wiggle their asses and speak in faintly European-sounding tongues. Like a dipshit. He’s not even good at darts.

This whole settling-in thing’s been kind of a wet fart, actually. He was hoping this job’d be something better than sitting in a jail cell and looking at contraband porno mags but then he got on the bus over, and the cabin was full of about two toddlers worth of scar tissue and more stupid accents than he’s ever heard come out of an improv class, and the only reason he survived the trip was at least now he knows he’s getting paid something. Every time he’d try and speak up he’d get eight chilling glares and then everybody would get back to beating on each other, and the time he really tried he ended up sprawled across the floor, with the dried blood and the gum wrappers, and with a shiner the size of fucking Alaska.

It’d hurt worse if he hadn’t had at least a dozen on this eye before. Maybe it’s a good thing no one’s come over here to talk to him yet, because he probably looks like a fucking dipshit just standing here, sweating through his pants, black eye, empty cup, darts, no friends, no money, no future.

Feels just like home. God dammit.

Eventually somebody finally taps him on the shoulder, and he spins around and two darts fall out of his hand and he does a slightly embarrassing please-don’t-stab-through-my-big-toe shuffle, and it’s Heav… De… the eyepatch guy. With two cups of shitty beer from the keg on the other side of the room, one in each hand. And he’s smiling, and his teeth are disgusting, and while Jeremy’s staring all wide-eyed (like a dipshit) it takes him a very long time to realize that the eyepatch guy is trying to hand him one of the full cups, and he mostly notices because he eventually gives up and just slots it into his empty one.

Then he cracks another, slightly different smile. “I cannae be that ugly, can I?”

Jesus christ, he sounds like a goddamn leprechaun. Jeremy chokes out a laugh into his newly-refilled beer cup, and unceremoniously dumps the darts onto a weird side table that’s just kind of sitting there in the middle of the room, like most of the furniture in here is kind of doing. “No, I just—sorry, pal. This place is throwing me all off.”

“Mm, sure it is,” with a glint in his eye that seems to instantly settle into the back of his skull. There’s just the faintest trace of a slur in his voice—it would definitely track if he’s already kind of drunk.

Honestly, Jeremy’s not flying the straightest right now either, and he wonders if that’s why eyepatch guy’s staring at his cup of beer—just watching, waving his own around like he’s not gonna drink from it until—oh wait.

“And thanks for the refill, pal.”

“Ah, love to hear it.” He pulls out a third version of the same smirk and Jeremy wonders what his face looks like right now, and decides it’s probably something really stupid. “You looked like a kicked bloody puppy all alone over here. Thought it was the least I could do.”

Jeremy laughs at this. It’s not funny. He figures maybe he should shake a hand or something, whatever people do at this kind of thing, but his palms feel really sweaty and he feels like he’s done enough to ruin this first impression anyway. “I’m, uh. I’m Jeremy.” Wait. “Wait. I don’t think we’re supposed to say our names. Wait, pretend I didn’t say that.”

And he just watches. Beer to his lips. Smirk number four. Jesus christ, just bring out some popcorn at this point.

“Um, I’m Scout, is what I meant to say. And I’m… gonna do that, I guess. Scout, I mean.”

“Name’s Tavish,” he says, and he sure lets that one sit for a while. “But I’m the Demolitions Man. Demoman for short, and some of the lads over there already started callin’ me Demo.”

“So… like, bombs ‘n shit?”

“Aye. Pretty much.”

“Cool.” And then what the fuck else is there to say? “So… what’s up?”

Good one, Jer, top-notch. Hall of fame performance. Jesus christ.

Smirk number five, and it finally tapers out as Demo thinks for a second, and eventually comes up with: “Darts?”

God, he was hoping he wouldn’t ask that. “Hell yeah, brother.”

… Demoman stares at him. He places three darts in his hand… then awkwardly lowers himself to the ground, picks up another couple, and adds those to the stack.

Smooth. Suave. Good thing he doesn’t look like a fucking idiot or anything, because that would be really embarrassing.

They awkwardly stare at each other for a couple more seconds before Demoman says, slowly: “You start?” in a way that definitely says ‘I have no fucking idea how to play darts’, and that’s okay, because this game sucks anyway. Scout nods and mumbles something stupid, and he goes and leans against the back of the couch and squinches one eye shut even though he know that probably makes his aim a lot worse—and he fires three stinkers, right in a row, two of which land in the wall above and below the board, and one perfectly strikes just the rim.

At least Demo follows his lead, and he sucks too. That makes him feel a little better.

On his way back the second time, Scout takes a little longer to pick up his darts and says: “Why’d you come over here?”

“What?”

“Well, you guys seemed like you were having a great time in that little jerkoff circle around the pool table.”

“Someone’s jealous.” Demo waits for a response, and Jeremy doesn’t give him one, because he doesn’t want to. “I like to mingle. Get around, get to know.” He throws a 4 and a 3, and the third dart misses the board and embeds itself in the wall underneath—he’s real bad. “And ye looked so sad moping over here with your empty cup and your… you know.”

He brushes the black eye and instantly regrets it, and Tav… Demoman nods. “I bruise easy,” he mumbles.

No response. What’s this guy’s goddamn deal?

God, Jeremy fucking hates that sense of… what’s the word? Guilt? Feeling bad-ness? Radiating off him. “If you’d given me a couple more minutes, I woulda gotten this party goin’.” God. Dipshit. He misses the bullseye three times, one after the other, gets like a 9 or something, he doesn’t really give a shit. “Brother, I swear to god, I’m all off my game tonight.”

Game as in game, but maybe it’s less embarrassing if he’s talking about darts.

“I believe ye.”

“I dunno. Somethin’ about this place, man. It’s killin’ me.” Pauses to see if he’s gonna get interrupted, and gets nothing, so he goes on. “Like, I kept tryin’ to say hi to some of the loonies during the meet-‘n-greet earlier—couldn’t get out ten words to most of ‘em before they started turning around, like, I’m-gonna-crush-your-face-with-my-bare-hands fuckin’ death stare, like brother, what do you want from me?” Demo’s squinting, his tongue barely poking out over his bottom lip, and Jeremy watches three darts in a row sail directly into the wall. “You suck at this, man.”

“I have one eye,” he says, without missing a beat, and oh yeah, that’s kind of awkward.

“Oh, yeah… your death perception, or somethin’?”

“Close enough.”

“Anyway.” Just go ahead and skate past that one. “So we kinda moved things in here—miserable excuse for a rec room by the way, the one I had when I went to juvie had more to do—and I kind of assumed, like, there’d be some people around the pool table, a couple guys throwin’ darts, and—you know, whatever else… people do.” He dries up the last few drops in his cup and grimaces. “But I forgot,” he says, “that old guys just frickin’—just love pool. And the old guys that don’t, love leaving fun places and going to do something boring in their rooms instead.”

“Why didn’t you just go over?” he interrupts, and frankly Jeremy is shocked he’s still listening at this point, and he can almost feel his voice rattling around in his head, and gee maybe it’s best he doesn’t get another refill.

Pity. That’s the word. It’s pity.

“‘Cause—‘cause I’d already staked my territory, y’know? And I didn’t wanna be this little pussy showin’ up after everybody’s already settled in, just… crawling back.”

“So your solution was to stand sadly in the corner and look—“

“Like a dipshit.” He crosses his arms and leans against the wall, since it looks like they’re not really playing darts anymore. “I know.”

Out comes the ugliest snort Jeremy’s ever heard in his entire life. “Well, I would’ve been nicer, but sure.” Then a few shaky steps forward, then a really, really warm-and-sweaty palm lands on Jeremy’s shoulder, and their fingers brush on the way down. “At least ye got me now.”

He starts to wonder if Demoman’s really doing him that big of a favor, and realizes yes, yes he is. “… Yeah.” Then weakly raising his stack of empty cups: “Cheers, man. To the worst job ever.”

“I dunno if I’d say that.” He pinches his lips together. “To a pretty bad job.”

And they knock their cups together, and Demoman drinks on it. Jeremy pretends to. It sucks.

READ THE REST ON AO3!!!

[sonicblueartist]

Are your requests actually open for bullfrog? If so, is it alright to request for yandere headcanons of him? ( or oneshot if that fits more to your liking! ) With human reader that possibly works for eden?

It doesn't has to be anything bloody! Any yandere scenarios that fits him are fine, You can change the scenario if you want it too

And sorry if im misunderstood it! You can just delete this request if i did so!

A/N: Yandere looks so out of character of him. But I give it a try for you dear anon~ Yan!Bullfrog and a worker of Eden? (It's not like humans and hyberds already have a complex realationship enough) Oh jeez. We are going in a big rollercoster ride here, so buckle up your seats guys! 😏👀☕️💦

I need one more thing to say. There is a similar ask like this one. A reader working for Eden. So I'm gonna change this request a slightly bit, so both wouldn’t cross much. I hope that's alright for you :)

AND SO SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT AAAA--

Bullfrog x h!reader HEADCANON-ish? (It's a bit diffucult to tell with what I write here :')

Warnings: blood, dead bodies, possesive behaviour, ooc

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.1k

Taglist: @blorbostation @eateableworm @livelaughluvvfaithyy @darkchanx @astoraa

Btw does anyone want to be in the tag list?

Dear anons; I would really appreciate it if you could choose an emoji while sending your asks and requests (and stick with it) so I can tell you apart. Thank you~

×Anouncment: I am no longer writing for Yangere Bullfrog. It's so out of character of him and I don't want that. Please don't ask me to write about it again my dear readers~ Thank youu. (I'm also so bad at writing yanderes oh my god 😭)

You both already knew each other when it all started

"Hey, do you have any gum?”

"Gum?" You glance at your soldier friend.

"Yeah, I like to chew on them. Do you have any?”

"Uh... no sorry." But you checked on your pockets anyway. Who knows? Maybe you actually have it. Before you can even lift your head a breeze past you.

A breeze? In the middle of the hall where no windows open?

You glance at your side, seeing what is left of your friend on the ground, his throat ripped open as he choked on his own blood and died in mere seconds. You stared at him as his lifeless body lay down motionless.

"I was talking to him.”

"Pas désolé, he is pretty much dead now."

You glance at him unimpressed while he stared up at you with a smile, a sweet sickening one, making you feel annoyed even more. His bloody blades disappearing behind his wrists.

"You need to stop your little visits. They will notice our talks one day. And it's not gonna be pretty for both of us.”

“We never agreed it would be. Qui a dit que ça m'intéressait de toute façon.” He grinned at you as he connected his hands behind his back.

How do you two know each other? Well, you two met when you started to work for Eden, seemingly. You're an agent observing Eden's work and informing your superiors. That's it. That was your job. Being a spy. Dangerous you need to say. Thankfully, if someone notices your act, you know how to fight.

It wasn't long before the assassin and spy met in unfortunate circumstances. Forcing you to fight side by side in a station where both of you are in grave danger. It was in the past now. Either you regret meeting him or not… you weren’t sure.... yet

After that day, he didn't seem to forget about you. Or your purpose. It looks like you managed to catch his attention from the first moments.

He started to show his face whenever he could to the point you can't ignore anymore.

You did get irritated by that a lot of the time, especially in the beginning. But now you just… get used to it? You don’t know. It’s not like he listened when you told him to go.

Thankfully whenever he kills your ‘comrades’ he helps you to not get caught because of his reckless actions? You actually started to think he's doing it on purpose too. Just to stay a bit longer and interact with you more.

You don’t actually care who he kills. You just want him to not ruin your cover.

But when you start to notice every person you talk to starts to disappear or end up dead? You start to worry. Like a lot. How can you not? Your life is on the line.

You know it was him doing it. But you just didn't get why. You are more than capable of handling yourself.

What was he thibking doing all that? Risking your whole mission- YOUR life- To get you caught? There need to be more to it. There is something really wrong with him…

And you were proven right when you found one of your agent friends covered in his own blood, near him only stood and stared Bullfrog while he slowly... died. Like he wanted to teach him a lesson in his own mind.

His blades were bloody. There was something horrible the way he just… stared. What shocked you even more was what he uttered out to the body laying motionless, to the soulless eyes.

“No one… no one can take her away...” he slowly wiped the blood from his mouth.

Your eyes widen with that. How does a normal person would act in this situation? Run away for their life? Scream? Cry? Grow in anger? Probably. But you were a skilled agent. You stepped inside, even you couldn't belive how calm you were, he quickly got aware of your presence and tilted his head with a smirk. He never hid that glint in his eyes.

“Bonjour, mon lumière. How was your day? Good I hope?”

You shook your head, and went straigh to the point, “What have you done?” It was the only thing you could let out at the moment. A lot of things went trhough in your head but you just stood there and actually hoped to hear a manageable answer?

He opened his arms towards you and approached, he actually believed in what he said, “He was going to get in between like all the others. I couldn’t let that happen.”

The more he came closer the more you stepped back, you shook your head, “You are not even making any sense. You are sick, you are—“

You yelled in pain and dropped down on your knees before you could even put up a fight to get away. He cut your ankles. Not actually cut them in two but that still hurted like hell. You hissed and suck in a breath. You grimiced and tighten your fist. You are not going to show any weakness to him.

You panted in pain as he held you in his arms, caressing your back. You growled in anger on his shoulder, wiggling in his strong hold, trying to get away but he didn't even move an inch and continued holding you tightly, not very affected. How could he be so strong?

“Don’t worry, ma vie. You will soon understand that I’m freeing you from the burden of working under an organization as vile as Eden. You’ll be at peace with me. I promise." He caressed your head ‘lovingly’. “Nous serons ensemble pour toujours.”

Your angry yell muffled in his chest. As his eyes stared blankly into space with a smile on his lips.

Everything got so much worse after that...

[magnoliabutters]

F🔪CK AROUND & FIND OUT

pairing: ghostface!eddie munson x (she/her) reader

warnings: 18+ content, nsfw, mdni; dark smut themes, bargaining, life/death scenario, noncon/dub-con, hair pulling, knife play, predator & prey, oral, penetration, degradation kink, choking, etc.

inspiration: @chestharrington's lazy ghoul's kinktober → week three: anonymous sex

word count: ~4.5k

note: y'all thought i'd get through a kinktober without my mans?! naaaahhh; note note ~ please check out the warnings & take care of yourself, the pairing is 18+ & based on my version of eddie "ghost face" munson

note note note ~ ~ a lil'borrow from @munsonify's delicious moodboard

“You locked your door, right?” 

A swift roll of your eyes and your hand reaches for the dead bolt. The lock clicks to the left as you tuck your phone between your cheek and shoulder, landing your back against the front door. 

“Jenny, it’s locked,” you mumble between chews of your gum. “I don’t know why you’re taking this whole serial killer thing seriously. The police aren’t talking about it.” Your voice dwindles on as you await common sense to fill your best friend. 

“Hmph.” 

“Oh, come on! It’s just a story,” you groan out. Annoyance filled to the brim. “I heard the fraternity boys make a story every year. No one’s going around killing people on Halloween.” 

A sigh comes clear through the other line. You don’t understand how your friend could hear the story and be genuinely terrified. The first time you heard the story, you laughed at its bullshit. The simple coincidence of the twentieth anniversary of the Hawkin’s Diner Massacre and now somehow the serial killer returns? Bull. 

“Still, you shouldn’t be alone,” she whines. “And missing your first Halloween on campus is unforgivable.” 

“Ooo, add it to the list,” you taunt. “Adios weirdo!” You chuckle to yourself while crashing back onto the couch. You swing your legs over the armrest as your head is carried by a stack of decorative pillows. “I’ll meet you at the coffee shop tomorrow. We can talk about how we survived the night.” 

Jenny scoffs before adding, “Alright, bye loser.” A smile sprawls across your face as you hang up the phone. Not a single care in the world before gently dropping it on the carpet beside you. 

You quickly reach out to the coffee table. Fingers curl around the plastic of the remote. As your thumb hovers over the “on” button, you hear a scratching sound from down the hallway. You roll your eyes, another round of annoyance before you can rest and watch your sitcoms. 

“Pablo!” you call out. “I just took you out 15 minutes ago.” Pablo, the poodle, doesn’t care in the slightest if you finally got to sit down - he needs to go. 

Slumping your body off the couch, you groan and gripe while stomping down the hallway. Halfway through the creaking wooden floor, you can’t help but notice your cute, little pup wasn't meeting you in the kitchen doorway like usual. 

With a voice filled with confusion, you call out, “Pabs, come here boy!” 

You cross the kitchen doorway, landing your bare feet against the cold tiled floor. You hear his familiar patter against the wood as he rushes to meet you. You expect him to come through the dining room’s doorway, but the soft noise comes from behind. You slowly turn to see him back at the end of the hallway, staring you down from the living room.

Panic rips through you as you hurriedly twist your body to look at the door. Between the boxed window panes, you see a white glistening mask smile back at you as a black robed arm reaches for the door knob. You watch as it knob twists and turns, back and forth. 

Without wasting a second, you rush around the corner. Feet slamming upon the floor as you feel your heart beating hard against your chest. Your hand reaches for the railing before swinging up the staircase. 

Five steps in and you hear glass shatter. All you cared about was getting to your parent’s room, to the walk-in closet, to the safe beneath your father's shoe rack, to the shotgun already loaded and waiting for you. Cortisone seeps into your bloodstream. Your heart races, spreading the hormone thick and true throughout your body. You can feel your chest heaving, breaths filled with both sobs and exhaustion. 

You can hear bundled steps, hurried and frantic behind you, but you’ve only gotten to your parent’s bedroom. You rush through, slamming the closet door back against the dresser. Your fingers dance, twisting the dial as you struggle to see through your tears. 

Quick to the right and you hit the number 10, turning it back you hear the click of the safe once reaching 78. You can also hear him coming, but you desperately try to push that from your mind. Push away those muffled steps rushing against the carpet as he enters the bedroom. You turn the dial once more, all you need is the number 3, it's right there - you’re so close…

The black cloaked attacker digs their fingers into the top of your scalp, pulling against strands of your hair until you are on the other side of the closet. Your eyes return back to the ghostly face already splattered with blood across its chin. 

Your eyesight becomes blurry as tears begin to flood your cheeks. Your body cowers into itself, knees up to your chest and arms wrapped around them. You hesitantly peer from your knees to see the shine of a knife reflecting your face. 

“Please!” you scream with your hands covering your face. 

You tremble beyond your fingers to see that the serrated knife has paused right before your face. The blade is only an inch or two from your eyes. Death, a mere second away and you can do nothing. 

The blackened form has now kneeled beside you. A frightening mask beaming its smile at you with a curious tilt of its head. “Please!” you plead. “I just … just tell me what you need! Is it money? W-we have money!” 

The person behind the mask groans as they slam the knife into the carpet right beside your left foot. You yelp, squeezing into yourself. Your body trembling, terrified to move - to upset them in any way.  

“It’s all about money with you people isn’t it?!” 

The voice is alarmingly loud. It’s textured, deep in timbre, and slightly familiar. The man, undoubtedly so, leans into your face. He pulls the knife between you both causing another round of tears to fall like a river against your pinking cheeks. 

The tip of the knife is pressed into your chin, guiding it up as it tickles against your neck. “There’s no amount of money that will save you now, little girl,” he whispers eerily. The blade digs into your chin, cutting against your flesh. 

“Please,” you sob out. “Don’t kill me. God, please!” 

“God can’t help you now.” 

“Please! I’ll do anything. Please,” you cry. Your hand hesitantly reaches for his groin. Offering the man the last thing you could give, the last thing you could imagine he would want. 

But he just watches you. 

His mask digging against his chest as he peers down at you. Tears still falling through your lashes, you grab a tighter hold of the mass beneath his black jeans. You apply light pressure, only being firm in pulsating bursts. You can feel him hardening beneath you. It is enough leeway that you gain the courage to raise your eyes up to his masked face. 

Struggling to speak, the words fall out broken and breathy. “Anything…” The ghostly mask is slow and steady as it tilts its head to the right. His hand violently falls to your wrist, pulling your hand from him. 

You stare at him with horror in your eyes. This is it. He’s going to kill you. His grip tightens painfully around your wrist. You’ve tried everything. There’s nothing left to do…

“Anything?” He says as he rips your arm up. You stand, yelping in pain as he throws your arm back against the wall. He whispers, “Do you want it?” His dark, sunken eyes bare into you. There’s nothing there. They are empty, devoid of life and yet, it asks if you want it…

“Yes,” you blurt. 

The ghost pushes against you, pinning you against the wall as he slides into the space beside your neck. You can feel the plastic of the mask pull at strands of your hair. You can hear a sniff as he gently raises off the chin of the plastic and rests a thick, warm tongue against your skin. You quiver as you feel his slick swarm up to your earlobe. 

Your hand reaches for something, anything to get him off of you. You can feel his hot breath against your skin. You can feel your hairs prickle to their ends as you squeeze your eyes close. Your fingers brush against a hardened surface, hard and leathery. You feel the thick platform of one of your mother’s heels. Your fingers wrap around it before you can think. 

Whack! 

You hit it over his head, causing him to fumble and fall beside you. You take the opportunity to run out of the closet without skipping a beat. Your dad always told you to have a baseball bat under your bed - hopefully he follows through on his own advice. You fall to your knees and dig under your father’s side of the bed. You feel the curve of the wood at your fingertips, the joy in knowing that you were almost free from this horror show. 

Just for your attacker’s hands to tangle into your hair again and knock you back harshly against your elbows. He crouches down in front of you, holding his hand flush against your neck as he squeezes between his thumb and index finger. Your body unsure of whether to prioritize your breathing or the sobs rising from your chest. 

“I only want someone who wants it,” he growls. He takes a breath before continuing in a softer voice, “So, I’m going to ask you one more time. Do you want it?” 

You pause to seriously consider the notion. Are you really about to give yourself, wholly, to someone you don’t know? Some freak behind a mask? Someone who just held a knife against your throat? And why does this sound oddly familiar to the beginning of your favorite porno? 

“Is that the only way I’ll get out of here alive?” 

The masked man laughs maniacally. A laugh that seems almost eerily familiar. Not the laugh of someone in her life now, but of someone from her past. 

“Fuck around and find out.” 

His words haunt you. It sends shivers down your spine. It creates a vomit inducing whirlwind in the pit of your stomach. What are you about to do…

“Yes, I want it,” you mutter under your breath with eyes glued to the carpet before you.

“On your knees.” 

With a trembling lip, you push off of your elbows and land upon your knees. You place your hands in your lap as you see him move in your peripherals. Only then do you grow the courage to raise your gaze. 

With his back turned, he slowly pulls down the black cloak wrapped around his body. With each tug of the cloth, a new area of skin is exposed. A skin that is pale, almost like he hasn’t seen the light of day. 

He bends over to crash his knife against your parent’s bedside table. His body is thin, but muscular around the hips. Little dimples shining back at you just above his waist. A solid black line tattooed thick and a foot long curved around his ribcage. Little small indents between each and every rib. 

He turns around with a swift twist and your eyes pull from him, fearful of the white, distorted face. You can see that he still keeps that mask on, even though you know what he’s about to have you do. One of the most intimate things you can do with a person and you won’t even see his face.

He rushes to grab the knife, seemingly upset with your wandering gaze. He pushes the tip against your chin once more, forcing your eyes upon him. He stands before you, sunken in forward-hanging hips. His chest is riddled with tattoos, filled with frightening spiders and demons that have you wondering exactly who you are kneeling before. His knife guides you closer to his crotch. 

“Take them off,” he whispers, a new and terrifying voice. 

Your hands slowly reach for his belt. He huffs with satisfaction as he abruptly pulls the knife from you, dropping it back against the table. You keep your eyes on the patch of hair trailing down his lower stomach. 

Your body moves, detached and robotic, as you grab hold of the belt’s tongue. You push it back, unhooking it from its buckle. The black, tight textured leather pushes slightly off the tips of your fingers. Your lips begin to quiver as you pull the belt around his waist and his hips draw further forward. 

You can see how his abdomen shifts with each breath. Shuddered and quick, almost like he wasn’t able to catch enough air. Was he nervous too? 

With delicate hands, you twist the button through his black jeans. You can hear a weak exhale as the denim opens and spreads against the growing mass beneath. The heat resonates off of it and you begin to feel dizzy. 

His breath is officially shaky and loud. Your fingers slowly curve around the band of his dark red boxers. There, you can see where the happy trail leads you. A light brown cloud of curls that makes you light headed and forces dirty, regretful thoughts to emerge. You pull just a little further, just to see a little more - just before his haunting grip wraps around your wrist once again. 

“Ow,” you utter under your breath. This time you raise your eyes to him without hesitation. He stares back at you with a hand slowly floating to your face just before he presses his thumb against your lips. He is gentle, the first instance of soft touch, as he drags it across your mouth. 

He quickly digs his thumb against your lower gum before pulling upon your lower lip. You let out a squeak, pain strikes your mouth as the tiny, little vein stretches between your gums and inner lip. 

“Get this off, now.” 

He rips his hand from your mouth, dropping your lip from his grasp. You run your tongue against your bottom lip, tasting the smallest bit of copper. You straighten up your back as you hook your fingers into his waistline. You tug his jeans and boxers, skinny and tight, down to his knees. He drops back onto the bed with legs wide and slightly bouncing as he shakes his pants down to his ankles. 

You try to keep a straight face as you watch his cock flip back against his stomach. Swallowing hard, you place your hands at his upper thighs. You could feel him shuddering away from your touch. You were almost unsure if you were doing the right thing. If you had wildly misread the entire situation. Your eyes fall upon him, wanting some reassurance. He gives you a nod to continue. 

You can feel yourself melting at the sight. A staff so incredibly stiff, standing at attention and waiting for your unholy lips to wrap around them. The warm pooling sensation tickling your clit feels sinful, feels wrong. Shouldn’t you be afraid? 

And yet, you’re excited. 

You catch yourself squeezing your knees tightly against each other. Your fingers rest at his base, feeling the firm vein throb beneath your fingertips. His breath hitches with every touch. You can tell that he struggles to keep his knees wide enough for your tits to press into the mattress between them. 

You lick your lips as your eyes ogle over his length. Your fingers wrap around it and can barely meet each other on the other side. Frankly, a part of you wondered if it would fit - if you’d be able to hold your breath long enough. The other part was excited for the challenge. 

Your fingers slowly begin to explore the tight skin. To feel every crevice and try your best not to imagine it inside. You pull back against his foreskin, revealing the head beneath. There you could see the translucent bead of precum awaiting your drooling tongue. 

Without hesitation, you press the flesh of your tongue against his slit. You soak up the salty surprise while involuntarily squeezing his base. You can feel him pulling away, almost as though he was pushing off the bed - but you had him right where you wanted him. 

Your thumb brushes against his slit, begging for just one more drop. Your hips are flush against the side of the mattress.You can feel them begin to grind against its firmness, around the same time you lower your lips around its head. 

A soft, little groan floats in the air between you. His breath hitching with each and every lick. His body quivering beneath you, begging you for more. He clears his throat, hiding his moans as he tenderly grinds his waist against you. 

The ghost of a man digs into the mattress with all of his weight. His breath is hot and harsh. His legs and abdomen grow tense beneath you. Silence fills the air as you flick your tongue around his head. A soft gentle stroke against his base.

You hollow your cheeks, taking him in. Your body begins to crave it. The memories of what happened just before gradually begin to dissipate with each suck. All you know now is what is before you. A twitching rod that perfectly fills your mouth. 

Your eyes close with lashes fluttering beneath furrowed brows. Your hand works in tandem with your swallowing mouth. Your other hand lightly rubbing a thumb against his \ sack. You can feel yourself digging against the mattress. Your grip tightening. Your body moving as a never ending wave. 

Everything is working with each other. You lose yourself. You’re not thinking of anything but him. Anything but making those sweet little moans come back. 

After taking in a harsh breath, he smacks his lips and entangles his fingers through your hair. He grips onto a bundle of strands, applying pulsating pulls that fit along with your throbbing cunt. “God, just like that,” he mewls. His own hips slowly growing in strength as he ruts against your face. The movement now afflicts him, as you both create an ongoing wave of pleasure. 

Everything about who or what he is falls away. 

“Shhhit, fucking shit.” 

Your pressure becomes harder and faster in rhythm. Your teeth gently press against the curve of his head. Your fingers rub against his perineum, spreading circles as his body shakes and quivers. “J - Just like that, don’t fucking stop,” he yells out, practically cracking his voice. 

But his grip suddenly turns harsh as he pulls against that bundle of hair. You hum in pain, but continue taking him in. Taking in as much as you can before gagging against his engorged cock. Any time you pull away, you can see the strands of saliva connecting you both. 

“Don’t you fucking stop, you whore.” 

Both hands are suddenly gripping harshly against the back of your head. His hips thrusting up, strong and forceful. You can hear yourself choking against him while struggling to breathe. He holds you there, pressed down until he rips you away. You fall back onto your elbows once more, completely knocked off balance and gasping for breath. 

You are reminded of the danger once more. Of who you are with, but this time fear doesn’t strike your heart. 

You drag the back of your hand against your swollen lips. He pushes off the mattress swift and smooth. His hands now digging against the bones of your hips. Once getting a good grip, he throws you face first against the sturdy bed. His entire body is hot against you. 

You feel the knife cool against your skin, just before he hooks it up and rips a slit down your shirt. You can feel him hard against your shorts, beginning to fit against you like a key. Suddenly, you feel kisses upon your lower back. You raise your head, trying to grab a glimpse but his large hands smash your face against the mattress. A brutal, “No” rings through the air. 

His fingers dig into your waistline, ripping the shorts off of you until you rest ass up and on your knees once again. His hands press against your inner thighs, pushing your knees farther apart while keeping you stable against the top of the bed. His hand grips against the curve of your ass, holding it tight before slapping the muscle and watching it bounce. You jerk at the sensation. A white hot feeling runs through your chest creating a floating sensation. 

You want this, oh god, do you want this. 

He rips each side of your panties without hesitation. His thumb flush against your freshly bare clit as he rubs little circles that cause eyes to roll back into your head. You moan against the blanket as you grind your hips backwards onto him. Little taunting circular motions, begging him for his dick. 

He pushes a finger inside of you before laying his chest flush against your back. You gasp as you feel him curl against your g-spot. He leans into your ear and you can feel the flickers of soft hair against your upper back. 

“Tight for daddy,” he coos in a way that makes you clench around his thick finger. “Do you want it?”

“Yes.” 

“Beg for it.”

“I need your cock. Please, please,” your begs are genuine as you feel the tensing pressure of him tickling your bumpy spot. He pushes your head against the mattress with just the right amount of force.

“You can do better than that. Beg for it like you begged for your life.” 

“Please, please. I’ll do anything. Please fuck me. It hurts, and I need you to make me feel better. Please you can’t leave me like this.” Your body is aggressively grinding back as you cry out for him, forcing his finger in and out of you with each of your movements. 

You can feel his breath hitch as his other hand digs crescent shaped moons around your waist. “Good girl.” You hear the rip of a wrapper as you lean into your elbows. You wish you could be free, free of this clothing. It is unbearably hot. You wish you could see him, mask and all, just to have your tits exposed for him - for him to put them in his mouth.

Slowly, you feel pressure against your opening. His rather large head pushing, spreading your lips and soaking in your juices. Despite how delicate his hands are, he bottoms out within you in one solid swoop. Only the slightest bit of discomfort, seeing as he got you nice and wet before exploring your insides. 

You scream, louder than you’ve ever allowed yourself to be with another person. A scream of pleasure. You can feel his hand thick against your spine as he props himself up by using you as a base. His thrusts are slow, dragging against every single part of your gummy walls. 

“Fuuuucck,” he whimpers. “God, you feel so good.” 

Gradually, his pacing becomes rapid and rampant. You can feel yourself almost giving in, giving in to the red hot of your body and wanting to watch from above. A level of pleasure that you have never reached before - now, never wanting to leave. 

He falls against your back again with a hand now thickly entangled within your hair. He pulls you back, tilting your head to bring your face closer to his own. He bends down to whisper, “I need to hear you. I need everyone to hear you.” 

His rhythm is quick and steady. It causes butterflies to flutter across your chest and down your arms. You cry out, fumbling the words, begging for more from your new god. God of sex, god of pleasure, god of ecstacy. How does he know exactly where to touch you to make your nipples harden and feel ripples of goose bumps across your skin? How could two bodies that have never touched before fit so perfectly into each other? 

You lean back against his cock, sliding in and out of you. Forcing your opening to tighten even more, desperate not to let him go. “Oh - just like that. Don’t you fucking stop. Don’t you fucking stop doing that. God…” his voice drowns out. 

Your entire body feels on fire. A pit in your stomach and you need to burst, but you couldn’t - not without him. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shiiiit,” you whine as you press your forehead against the mattress. “Harder!” You demand, and he does just that. 

His hands grip around you, holding you right where he wants you before slapping you back harsh against his hip bones. Little bit of pain, but what’s pleasure without it? “Oh god, yes,” you cry out. Your voice whimpering as eyes roll to the back of your head. “God, fuck yes!” 

He rips at your hair, pulling you back to look up to the ceiling as he fucks you silly. Your back arching against his sweaty chest. Your eyes remain closed but your mouth is gaping, begging for anything. Your hips rutting as he flickers deep within you. “Don’t stop - don’t you fucking stop,” he says with a quivering voice. 

“I’m gonna - “ he yells out. “Oh, oh, god. Oh god.” His voice hitches at the very end, right when you feel him press harshly against your hips and hold you there. Your entire body begins to spasm. All dams now cracked and destroyed as your walls squeeze around him. 

You can feel him twitching inside you, bursting with ecstasy. You can feel his hand at the base of your spine before he slowly pulls from you. You clench and gripe, not wanting him to leave - to just stay inside filling you with his cum. 

As he pulls out of you, you roll over, feeling the warmth begin to drip down your bum. Hoping to catch just a glimpse but he is already facing the wall. Somehow the mask already on. He pulls up his jeans, resting them lazily against his hip bones. He reaches for his knife, holding it in his hand as he turns back to you. 

“I won’t say anything,” falls from your lips faster than you’d like. You raise your hands to your side, taking quick breaths as nerves ripple throughout you. “If you promise to come back.” The words fall soft and sweet. You are completely genuine and, truly, not yet ready for him to leave. 

Your masked murderer, now a new favorite fuck buddy. A dick worth dreaming about. A dick worth waiting for. 

He rushes you, hand to neck, digging his hips into you. His knife shines beside your face as he twists it. The act no longer causes a gasp to fall from your lips. You lean into it, wanting him - all of him. He lightly drags it against your cheeks, down your jaw, neck, collar bone, leaving no marks in its place. 

Once it hooks against the hem of your shirt, his hand grabs at your collar before slicing his knife down the middle of your shirt and revealing the bra beneath. You breath hitches, only slightly expecting to be killed on the spot, but now completely infatuated with how much he continues to surprise you. 

With a swift clip, he swings his knife at the pretty little bow between the cups of your bra - revealing your nipples as the cloth falls past your waist. He drags the blade against your sternum before tracing circles around the flesh of your breast and nipples. 

“I promise.” 

note: proud of this & hoping ii didn't cross any lines (please let me know if i did), i hope you liked it! don't forget to reblog or i'll sick ghost face eddie on you 👹

coming up next sunday → week three: bondage with spencer reid

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[linomilkers]

Note: Hiiiii. Let me know if you want a second part to this! And let me know what you think, or what you'd like to see more of, etc. This is my second post on here so I'm moldable right now haha

Summary: Y/N has an oral fixation. Minho thinks it's cute.

When Minho first met Y/N, she had a lollipop in her mouth.

It was a party; the room a haze of smoke that made his lungs feel thick and murky while his skin felt sticky from the humid air in the house. His cup was halfway full of cheap, lukewarm beer that he was struggling to choke down but needed to if he was going to make it through the rest of the night (post mid-term parties were not something you wanted to experience sober at any capacity). He remembered he was searching for Chan, who had managed to disappear on entry, usually pulled this way and that by just about everyone (because he was personable and friendly and sweet, so why wouldn't he be).

Minho didn't necessarily want to be near him for the attention aspect. He liked to be around Chan at parties because he could sit with him and his group of friends (some of them mutual, some of them Minho only sees at functions like this so he's almost certain they don't exist outside the walls of a frat house) and zone out. He was surrounded by people he trusted, could tune in and out of the conversation, but was free to just listen and observe and enjoy himself without being the weird, silent guy in the corner.

He does find Chan, and with him Felix, who was talking animatedly to a girl with a stick hanging out of her mouth. At first Minho thinks it's a cigarette and prepares to wrinkle his nose at the smell of it, but when she grabs the end of it and pulls it out, his theory is disproven. A small, rounded ball of candy sits at the end, glossy from her tongue and at the point where she could crunch the rest of it with her teeth. It's what he thinks she's about to do, until she just tucks it back into her mouth.

It's funny now, because when he looks back on it, he didn't really care what she was doing or who she was really. Felix introduces them because they never met, and she smiles and greets him, and all Minho knows about this Y/N is that she likes lollipops. He probably would have been content to ignore her the rest of the night but the only free spot was right at her side and she twisted her body in the chair to look at him.

"You're Minho with the cats right?" She inquired and he blinked at her a few times, confused -- who had told her about his cats? He'd nodded his head wordlessly but it didn't seem to disturb her, a big smile pulls at her cheeks, "Can I see pictures? Felix says they're really cute."

By the end of the night, Minho knew a few things about Y/N: that she likes cats, she volunteers at a shelter the exact opposite days that he does, that her midterms had her inexplicably stressed and would continue to do so until she knew her grades. . .and that she liked lollipops. She had a few in her purse, she even offered him one, and when he politely declined he watched as she unwrapped a mango flavored one and plopped it back on the bed of her tongue. When Felix wanted the taste of vodka out of his mouth, he sought her out for a piece of candy as well which she merely handed him her bag and let him sift through it -- so he also learned she was either too trusting or just a close friend Minho hadn't remembered hearing about.

He didn't suspect their friendship would go further than that, but he starts to see her everywhere. On campus, at parties, in cafes, at the adoption center when a few of his hours get switched around to accommodate his dance lessons. Y/N always smiles at him, big and bright, like they were the best of friends even though Minho kind of clams up when he's talking to her by himself at first. Sometimes she had her mouth preoccupied, sometimes she didn't, whether it be with candy, gum, nibbling at the end of a straw from a drink she's long finished.

From their conversations, he'd been able to correlate the times that she's usually swirling her tongue around something, is around times she would be stressed. With assignments coming up, essays, exams -- anything that could be deemed worrisome or stressful, she usually had something to play with in her mouth. That's when he finally connects the dots, digging through his brain for old psych lessons from his freshman year.

Y/N has somewhat of an oral fixation; it must help alleviate stress in someway for her, to have her mouth focused on something. He doesn't bring it up to her, because it's none of his business, but he does wonder if she knew. If she even realized it or if it was as unconscious of a habit as his professor back then had made it seem.

They get closer in the months following. Close enough that Minho felt comfortable inviting her over to his parents house to finally meet Soonie, Doongie, and Dori (when his parents weren't home, of course, he didn't want them to get the wrong idea bout her visit). Close enough that they would watch movies together on Fridays where neither of them were doing anything, sometimes in a group with a few others, sometimes only with each other. Close enough that they share the same blanket during these movie nights, warm beneath the sherpa and their legs often times touching on the couch. Close enough that jokes and laughter come easy, that he could tell her about his bad day and not feel like he was being annoying, that she could fall asleep beside him and feel absolutely safe.

And close enough, that when she is reaching for another lollipop out of her bag, Minho clicks his tongue at her disapprovingly and lays his fingers against her mouth instead.

He doesn't know what possessed him to do it -- he thinks, he's probably been thinking about it for a while now. Wondered if the same relief came to her as long as her mouth was preoccupied with anything. He thought he could test it, just like this, but he'd never thought he would actually do it. It almost had felt like his hand had moved on its own accord rather than consulting him first.

Y/N stared at him, blinking, confused, and Minho swallows thickly and clears his throat, "You'll rot your teeth with all the candy." He phrases it like he's scolding her -- his tone would sure suggest he was. This was her out, if she wanted it, she could furrow her brows and call him an ass and swat his hand away. Then it was just Minho being a jerk and they would laugh about it later.

But she doesn't. Instead of playing it off as a funny joke, Y/N splits her lips open and waits patiently, before Minho sinks his index and middle finger into her mouth. Neither of them are laughing.

It's warm, and wet, and soft. It takes her a moment to adjust to the intrusion in her mouth as he keeps his fingers still, allowing her to lick over them, suck them in deeper before letting them rest on the bed of her tongue. She gives an experimental suckle, sighs through her nose, then turned her head back to the movie playing. Y/N adjusts so that he isn't stretching his arm very far, scooting closer to him and resting her head on his shoulder.

They stay like this, neither of them say anything, and Minho tried to control his breathing, keeping it even and measured. He wondered if this was good for her -- if it made her feel good, to have her mouth filled with something that doesn't wither away the longer it was in there. Y/N had been worried over a meeting tomorrow with her professor, to go over a thesis that she'd spent weeks agonizing over. Had Minho been able to help like this? Was she still thinking about it? Or was she thinking about the weight of his fingers in her mouth instead? The pressure of them on her tongue.

After the movie, Y/N pulls her head back and Minho allows his fingers to slip from her mouth. A little bit of saliva follows him, and in a potentially overly affectionate way, he swipes it away from her chin with his thumb. Then he dries his fingers off on the blanket, Y/N looked over to him, and she smiled that kind of smile that makes his heart feel too fond.

"Thank you," she murmured, "Should we go painting tomorrow? Hyunjin is getting a little dramatic about us not coming to the studio when he invites us."

Minho wondered if they would ever do it again, after the first time, but he doesn't have to wonder for long. If he sees her digging around in her purse for gum or a candy, he offers his fingers and she takes them instead. Not in public, of course, but when they were alone, in the safety of his living room or hers. Then, after a while, she didn't really have to dig around in her purse for him to offer it -- she'd give him a look and he'd raise his brows, before holding his fingers up. She'll nod, part her lips, and they find their spot between them again.

At first it wasn't in any way sexual and Minho has to drag his mind out of the gutter every time his brain tries to twist it into something. Like when she absently sucks or licks at the foreign object in her mouth, as if her tongue might have just remembered he was in there and wanted to explore it further. He would readjust himself, inconspicuously as he could, and count backward from 40 until he got himself together. Especially the times he's accidentally pressed them too deep in her mouth and she gags around them; he would offer an apology and Y/N would merely nod before settling again.

He doesn't know so much if it's the way his fingers feel in her mouth so much as its how she looks. All glassy eyed and dazed, her lips slick with spit and swollen. The urge to nip and bite at her bottom lip had become more pertinent in the last few weeks - it made him wonder if kissing would satisfy her the same way this does. If he offered his mouth to her instead of his fingers, would she take it? He could imagine it, and how soft her lips would feel on his own. He could picture the way her tongue would slide into his mouth, curl around his own, those dreamy sighs leaving her the same way they do now.

If he was going to outline the progression of events, he would think that first they might kiss, and then he might introduce his cock into the equation if she was interested. But they skip a step, between the fingers and her nosing at the bulge in his sweats. He wasn't expecting it when it happened -- mostly because their friends had just left, and Y/N was staying behind to help him clean up the disarray his apartment had been left in. Only before they could actually get up and start moving, Y/N flopped her head in his lap wordlessly, and he gave a dramatic sigh, "Enough with this," he said, despite already carding his fingers through her hair, "I played with your hair the whole time, you should be giving me something in return at this point."

Minho had meant a massage maybe (she was good at digging her thumbs into the knots between his shoulders), but Y/N furrowed her brows at him. Pouted her lips, grumbled something, and then she's turning her face into his crotch. He gasps because why wouldn't he? It was sudden, and all at once he feels the mouth he's been daydreaming about for about a month or two now just centimeters away from his dick, separated only by fabric. The fingers in her hair curl up, tugging carefully at the root when she drags her teeth over the swell.

"What are you doing?" He asked incredulously.

"Giving you something," she looked up to him and had the nerve to look confused, "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"I. . ." he trails off, surprised, confused, wondering if she was joking but the look on her face is far from teasing, "You don't have to."

"Do you want me to?"

Minho opens his mouth, then closes it again before he nods.

"Okay," she agreed, "But I want to just hold you in my mouth first."

[kaylaz-world-00]

Anon: Are your requests actually open for bullfrog? If so, is it alright to request for yandere headcanons of him? ( or oneshot if that fits more to your liking! ) With human reader that possibly works for eden?

It doesn't has to be anything bloody! Any yandere scenarios that fits him are fine, You can change the scenario if you want it too

And sorry if im misunderstood it! You can just delete this request if i did so!

A/N: Yandere looks so out of character of him. But I give it a try for you dear anon~ Yan!Bullfrog and a worker of Eden? (It's not like humans and hyberds already have a complex realationship enough) Oh jeez. We are going in a big rollercoster ride here, so buckle up your seats guys! 😏👀☕️💦

I need one more thing to say. There is a similar ask like this one. A reader working for Eden. So I'm gonna change this request a slightly bit, so both wouldn’t cross much. I hope that's alright for you :)

AND SO SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT AAAA--

Bullfrog x h!reader HEADCANON-ish? (It's a bit diffucult to tell with what I write here :')

Warnings: blood, dead bodies, possesive behaviour, ooc

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.1k

Taglist: @blorbostation @eateableworm @livelaughluvvfaithyy @darkchanx @astoraa @shiroisotto64

Dear anons; I would really appreciate it if you could choose an emoji while sending your asks and requests (and stick with it) so I can tell you apart. Thank you~

×Anouncment: I am no longer writing for Yangere Bullfrog. It's so out of character of him and I don't want that. Please don't ask me to write about it again my dear readers~ Thank youu. (I'm also so bad at writing yanderes oh my god 😭)

You both already knew each other when it all started

"Hey, do you have any gum?”

"Gum?" You glance at your soldier friend.

"Yeah, I like to chew on them. Do you have any?”

"Uh... no sorry." But you checked on your pockets anyway. Who knows? Maybe you actually have it. Before you can even lift your head a breeze past you.

A breeze? In the middle of the hall where no windows open?

You glance at your side, seeing what is left of your friend on the ground, his throat ripped open as he choked on his own blood and died in mere seconds. You stared at him as his lifeless body lay down motionless.

"I was talking to him.”

"Pas désolé, he is pretty much dead now."

You glance at him unimpressed while he stared up at you with a smile, a sweet sickening one, making you feel annoyed even more. His bloody blades disappearing behind his wrists.

"You need to stop your little visits. They will notice our talks one day. And it's not gonna be pretty for both of us.”

“We never agreed it would be. Qui a dit que ça m'intéressait de toute façon.” He grinned at you as he connected his hands behind his back.

How do you two know each other? Well, you two met when you started to work for Eden, seemingly. You're an agent observing Eden's work and informing your superiors. That's it. That was your job. Being a spy. Dangerous you need to say. Thankfully, if someone notices your act, you know how to fight.

It wasn't long before the assassin and spy met in unfortunate circumstances. Forcing you to fight side by side in a station where both of you are in grave danger. It was in the past now. Either you regret meeting him or not… you weren’t sure.... yet

After that day, he didn't seem to forget about you. Or your purpose. It looks like you managed to catch his attention from the first moments.

He started to show his face whenever he could to the point you can't ignore anymore.

You did get irritated by that a lot of the time, especially in the beginning. But now you just… get used to it? You don’t know. It’s not like he listened when you told him to go.

Thankfully whenever he kills your ‘comrades’ he helps you to not get caught because of his reckless actions? You actually started to think he's doing it on purpose too. Just to stay a bit longer and interact with you more.

You don’t actually care who he kills. You just want him to not ruin your cover.

But when you start to notice every person you talk to starts to disappear or end up dead? You start to worry. Like a lot. How can you not? Your life is on the line.

You know it was him doing it. But you just didn't get why. You are more than capable of handling yourself.

What was he thibking doing all that? Risking your whole mission- YOUR life- To get you caught? There need to be more to it. There is something really wrong with him…

And you were proven right when you found one of your agent friends covered in his own blood, near him only stood and stared Bullfrog while he slowly... died. Like he wanted to teach him a lesson in his own mind.

His blades were bloody. There was something horrible the way he just… stared. What shocked you even more was what he uttered out to the body laying motionless, to the soulless eyes.

“No one… no one can take her away...” he slowly wiped the blood from his mouth.

Your eyes widen with that. How does a normal person would act in this situation? Run away for their life? Scream? Cry? Grow in anger? Probably. But you were a skilled agent. You stepped inside, even you couldn't belive how calm you were, he quickly got aware of your presence and tilted his head with a smirk. He never hid that glint in his eyes.

“Bonjour, mon lumière. How was your day? Good I hope?”

You shook your head, and went straigh to the point, “What have you done?” It was the only thing you could let out at the moment. A lot of things went trhough in your head but you just stood there and actually hoped to hear a manageable answer?

He opened his arms towards you and approached, he actually believed in what he said, “He was going to get in between like all the others. I couldn’t let that happen.”

The more he came closer the more you stepped back, you shook your head, “You are not even making any sense. You are sick, you are—“

You yelled in pain and dropped down on your knees before you could even put up a fight to get away. He cut your ankles. Not actually cut them in two but that still hurted like hell. You hissed and suck in a breath. You grimiced and tighten your fist. You are not going to show any weakness to him.

You panted in pain as he held you in his arms, caressing your back. You growled in anger on his shoulder, wiggling in his strong hold, trying to get away but he didn't even move an inch and continued holding you tightly, not very affected. How could he be so strong?

“Don’t worry, ma vie. You will soon understand that I’m freeing you from the burden of working under an organization as vile as Eden. You’ll be at peace with me. I promise." He caressed your head ‘lovingly’. “Nous serons ensemble pour toujours.”

Your angry yell muffled in his chest. As his eyes stared blankly into space with a smile on his lips.

Everything got so much worse after that...