#Chillingly sweet face

[stiwfssr]

[anantaru]

big cock alhaitham / wrio trying to fit his cock inside you mfmfmfmgmfmgm

synopsis. he's trying to fit his cock in you (struggling) <3

including. alhaitham, wriothesley

warnings. size kink & size difference, big dick genshin characters, dirty talk, petnames used: baby, fem! reader

— alhaitham

"it— it's not working," you gasp, nails wretchedly scraping at alhaitham's bicep and your knuckles dwindling with how tightly you were holding him against you, at all times needing your boyfriend's heavy weight close, despite his solid cock not even slipping an inch inside— no matter how wet he's gotten you earlier.

he tries again, tries to nudge his fat tip into your little hole, all desires and doubts banished from his mind, only a single aim in mind, a crystal clear focus flashing in his eyes. ultimately, your body relaxes at how gentle his face was the entire time, as if he's got it all under control and you shouldn't worry about a single thing right now, only enjoy the pressure pinching at your core and how it threatened to break you into a million pieces.

he won’t fit he won't fit alhaitham won't fit but he so desperately wants it and so do you— your mind shouts out alarms to warn you yet again, repeatedly inform you that there wasn't a chance that you'd be able to get filled up by his heavy load tonight, not even get a taste of his swelling erection sticking mercilessly to your walls.

he's failing, his cock head messily brushing up into your folds, roughly enough to scratch a sob from your throat. but that's not a sound alhaitham wants to hear, he craves the noise you make when he slips it in, until you're overfilled with his cum and it's running down the insides of your thighs, staining the mattress.

for all that, instead of growing frustrated, alhaitham decides to gently cup your cheek with his free hand to pull your gaze against his, holding you like the most delicate glass threatening to break— then you feel it, right there, his heavy breathing even heavier and that look in his colorful eyes.

for a second, you relax and let him handle you, awaiting his next move as he looks down at you with a watery, toothy smirk, sighing deeply into his chest and exhaling through his mouth, a tender sound you never grow tired of hearing before his palm holds one leg further apart, your hole spreading for him.

the swell of your pussy lips and the glistening arousal on top of it made the scribe feel like he was on cloud 9, drunken by your beauty and so hard working to please his sweet darling— never any less excited to receive his heavy bulk inside your warmth.

your lungs burn when he goes slow again, chillingly so, even more undemanding that your curves melt like dough beneath his hands.

he's got you now, pushing forward yet always alarmed that it wouldn't fit again as in this one single moment, it finally did, and alhaitham almost eclipsed by the roaring of his blood in his ears when he's got to hear your pretty moan for real now— not just the frustrated ones of you wanting to have him already, but that one particular sound you'd always make whenever you, yes, take him, all of him.

— wriothesley

"that good? you can take it?" hearing those words, it felt like the oxygen in your lungs was melting the moment you can hear wriothesley whisper once more, his wet lips ghosting over your ear shells and erecting goosebumps from your neck, "slowly baby, slowly, you don't wanna hurt yourself," he says, your body convulsing in both an ache and relief— and it's truly important for your health to keep breathing and stay content, even when you're fed up with his erection not fitting inside you that night.

"you're supposed to relax, okay? leave it to me, yeah?" he whispers, a slip of eminence soaring from his tongue to right beneath your trembling flesh— and ugh, it practically sparks all your excitement through your body and multiplies it by ten— your wet core and your puffy, little cunt waiting so patiently to be filled by him, only him forever and ever and ever on end.

"y-yeah.. that's it, baby, see.." nothing could ever prepare you for the feeling wriothesley manages to arouse from you each time, and you could certainly never get used to the feeling of his cock either, despite this not being the first time the two of you have been intimate together.

your back arches as your hole spreads around his erection pumping into your core when he manages to fit it inside, his massive shaft pulsing through your walls and sending shockwaves coursing into your veins, slick and sweat streaking on your skin.

his breath freezes on your wet lips with relief flaring through the watery gloss in your eyes as wriothesley kept his promise to you— starting out with experimental, little thrusts as his eyes closed of their own volition, his muscles tightening, his limbs moving while shifting back and forth a little, snapping his hips against your ass in all the right places.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Little Lupin {Blurb}

James Potter x Lupin!Reader

Part 2 - Part 3

AN: I wrote this on my lunch break, so it's not proof read. Just needed it out of my head RIP.

WC: 1313

“Mate! We are bloody brilliant!” Sirius bellowed out, getting applause from a few of the other red-robes. “Mate! Mate?”

Sirius’s shouts slowly lowered and he looked at James curiously, who was simply staring across the grand hall with heart eyes.

The clatter and hum of students and professors fell on his deaf ears. News of one of the Marauders' newest pranks on Slytherin had sent the hall into a frenzy of giggles and explosive laughter. Watching as the poor Slytherin tried to hide their red hair, the Gryffindors were practically doubled over. Sirius brandishing their win socially while James remained in his own little world.

Eyes on {Y/N} Lupin, who stuck out like a sore thumb. You looked around at your fellow green-robed seatmates and made a playful jab at Dorcas, who then threw a bun at you. Ignoring the glares from Snape and Avery, who were even more pissed that you didn't fall victim to your brother’s trick, you always managed to find some humor in the situation.

Even Regulus Black had his hair dyed; not that he didn't use a potion to change it back instantly. His usual icy demeanor was barely ruffled, but he shot a glance towards you, a mix of curiosity and annoyance. It was no secret that being related to Remus Lupin put {Y/N} in a peculiar position within Slytherin House. Unlike Regulus, she refused to delve deeper than necessary into mediocrity.

"Honestly, you'd think they'd come up with something more original.” You quipped, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you deftly dodged another flying bun.

Dorcas laughed, "Maybe next time they'll get you too, Lupin."

Your shouts across the hall faded further out as Sirius hit James on the shoulder.

“James!” He laughed and James shot up with a loopy smile, glasses sloppy on his face.

“What?” He cheeked, sticking his tongue to his cheek and stealing a glance at you again.

“Oh dude, don't tell me.” Sirius smirked.

James's cheeks flushed slightly as he tried to play it cool, pushing his glasses up to sit properly on his nose. "What are you on about, Pads?" He smirked, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

Sirius waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "You're gone, mate. Absolutely smitten with {Y/N}, aren't you?"

James's eyes widened, and he quickly looked around to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation. Wrapping his arm around Sirius and yanking him down so they were closer to the table. "Keep your voice down!" He scolded, though his tone was more embarrassed than angry. "It's not like that."

Sirius grinned, like he had just learned the secret of a lifetime. James knew he was screwed. "Sure, sure. You’ve been staring at her for the past ten minutes like she's the Snitch and you’re about to win the Quidditch Cup.”

James opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his lips as he caught another glimpse of you, laughing and shoving Evan Rosier’s shoulder was he inspected your hair playfully. He couldn't help the small smile that tugged on his lips at your smile, he couldn't even bring himself to be jealous, he'd play with your hair too if you'd let him.

James glanced back at Sirius when he realized he had zoned out again, looking like a guilty puppy as he smiled up at him, talking far louder then he intended to. “You know, Remus’s sister.. she's fit, yeah?”

As if Merlin was having a laugh at their expense, two large hands grabbed their shoulders. Remus peaked his head between them with a chillingly sweet smile, tooth and all.

“I'll cut your eyes out, James.”

James's face went a shade paler as he felt Remus's grip tighten on his shoulders. He gulped audibly, trying to muster a nervous laugh, but it came out as more of a squeak.

"Moony! I-I didn't see you there," James stammered, his eyes wide with a bright nervous smile, trying to play it off.

Remus's smile didn't falter, but his eyes were steely. "Oh, I bet you didn't.” He said, his voice calm but hiding a threat. "Now, what was that about my sister being 'fit'?"

Sirius, deciding to abuse his power as boyfriend, leaned forward to smirk at Remus. “She is though, yeah? It's the Lupin genes. Glad I got mine when I did.”

Remus glared down at Sirius with a scandalized look.

"Sirius.” Remus practically growled through gritted teeth, "I can deal with you later. Right now, I'm more concerned about our dear James."

James looked pleadingly at Sirius, silently begging him to stop making the situation worse. Sirius, however, was having far too much fun to let it go.

"Oh I bet you will.” He smirked and looked Remus up and down before leaning back into his hand. “Come on, Moony.” Sirius chuckled with a playful grin. "It's not like Prongs is planning on asking her out. He's just… appropriating her beauty.”

“Sirius-” James hissed before they were all interrupted.

You had walked up, with a playful glare and a bright smile. “You boys are ridiculous. When I let you into the Slytherin commons I thought it would just be a handful of us. Everyone? You dyed everyone's hair? You laughed in disbelief.

Sirius smirked, crossing his arms. “No clue what you're on about, bird. Do you, Remus?”

“Not a clue.” Remus hummed, playing along with Sirius's game of plausible deniability. Still glaring at James.

“Do you, James?” Sirius then looked down at James who was giving that same love sick look, a million miles away. James snapped back to reality, his eyes widening as he realized you were standing right there. He stammered for a moment, the color returning to his face tenfold. “Uhm- nope,” His voice cracked and he looked like he wanted to die. Looking down at his plate absolutely ready to jump into the black lake.

You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of James looking so disjointed. "It's alright, James. Next time, maybe don't make me guilty by lack of evidence?” You laughed, gesturing to your hair with a teasing wink, though you had no idea just how much that affected him.

James's cheeks flushed even more, if that was possible, and he muttered, "Ya, yeah agreed, {Y/N}."

You curled your eyebrow at him and your smirk deepened. Instead of tease him further, you nodded and turned your attention to Remus. “Hey, Rem, can you help me with my transfiguration study today?”

“Why would I do that?” Remus smirked as you gave a helpless scoff.

“Well.. if you don't, I'll tell Sirius on you.” You challenged and Remus looked down at Sirius as he gave a dramatic gasp.

“Do as she says, Remus, we'd hate for that to happen.” Sirius chuckled and you smirked triumphantly.

“I'm still not done with you.” Remus grumbled to Sirius before he looked at James. “You either.”

“Thank you Rem!” You chirped as turned to leave, meeting up with Dorcas and Pandora at the entrance of the grand hall.

The second the grand doors closed behind you Sirius nearly lost it as he fell over laughing.

Remus covered his mouth and snickered as well as James flushed and hid his face in his hands.

“Merlin! You practically proposed to Lily Evans but you can't even look her in the eyes!?” Sirius fell back and Remus was quick to catch him, equally amused.

James groaned, his face still buried in his hands. "You're not helping, Pads.” He groaned, absolutely mortified, his voice muffled.

Remus shook his head, though he couldn't hide the amusement in his eyes. "I think what Sirius is trying to say, is you need to relax, James. {Y/N} isn't going to bite your head off."

“At least not with that attitude.” Sirius cheeked and earned a hard smack from Remus.

“I'll end you both.”

[theres-a-body-here]

Darling~

Miguel O'Hara x Male!reader

Part 1 | Part 2 |

As Miguel slipped in and out of consciousness, he became vaguely aware of being dragged along the hallway by some unknown force. It wasn't until he regained some level of lucidity that he realized it was one of your black tendrils wrapped firmly around his ankle.

All around, the sounds of battle echoed - cries of pain and success melding together, only to become silence as you took him deeper into the structure's internal complex.

You hummed softly to yourself, navigating the maze-like corridors with ease while keeping Miguel close at hand

"V-Venom," Miguel managed to croak out, struggling against the paralyzing effects of Scorpion's poison coursing through his veins.

Continuing the journey deeper into the base, you cast a tender gaze upon Miguel. Your voice held a sickly sweet tone, gently whispering words meant for his ears alone.

"We've missed you so much, amor."

Miguel, however, was barely holding on, fighting back waves of nausea caused by the debilitating toxin coursing through his veins. He opened his mouth to respond, but only managed a pitiful moan in reply.

The sudden ceasing of movement rouses Miguel from his drowsy state just enough to notice you stopping in front of a door marked by a prominent medical symbol.

Everything became hazy again as your slimy, black tendrils went to work on breaking through the keypad lock securing entry.

Then, everything went black for Miguel…

~~~~~~~~~~

A low hum gradually filtered into Miguel's awareness, slowly awakening him from unconsciousness. He groggily blinked open his eyes, greeted by a harsh glare emanating from the sterile white ceiling above him.

Disoriented, he soon discovered he lay atop a cold metallic stretcher, rigid and unforgiving beneath him.

Grunting in discomfort, Miguel rolled his head to the side where a tray of medical supplies rested on wheels. Various syringes and vials occupied its surface, suggesting recent use.

Just as Miguel started to relax, a chillingly serene voice invaded his personal space.

"We were worried you wouldn't wake," you said nonchalantly, studying him with such intensity.

Startled, he whipped his head towards the source, finding you perched comfortably on another bed nearby.

Eyes locked onto yours, Miguel felt his blood run cold at your unsettling calmness – unmistakably predatory in nature.

An oppressive silence filled the space between you both, punctuated only by the relentless buzzing of fluorescent lights above.

Unsettling tranquility hung heavy in the air as you leaned forward expectantly, ready to continue your conversation.

"We hope you were dreami-"

However, before you could finish speaking, Miguel sprang into action. In one swift motion, he flung himself off the stretcher, grabbed its metal railing, and hurled the entire thing directly at you with impressive speed.

You remained entirely unfazed by the incoming projectile as long tendrils burst forth from underneath your clothing, effortlessly stopping the stretcher mere inches from your face.

Each individual strand contorted and flexed in unison, crushing and tearing into the metal structure with minimal effort before casting aside remnants like discarded waste material.

As quickly as it had begun, it ended; an eerie stillness hanging in the air.

Miguel was gone.

"Rude."

There was no anger in your tone - simply mild irritation tinged with disappointment.

~~~~~~~~~~

Miguel sprinted through the winding corridors without looking back, every fiber of his being urging him forward. Every muscle screamed in agony as he rounded corners and vaulted obstacles with newfound determination.

Eventually reaching the expansive hub of activity, he observed countless Spider-People working alongside each other, collectively pushing back against an overwhelming tide of evil forces.

Relief washed over him momentarily, replaced almost instantly by renewed determination - finding Spider-Byte and fixing The Go-Home-Machine was now mission critical.

~~~~~~~~~~

Suspended midair via tendrils looped around his neck, Hobgoblin gasped for breath while desperately thrashing around in random directions. His struggles proved futile against your iron grip; eyes bulging in terror as he looked at your calm expression.

You waved a photograph casually under his nose, tapping at the figure of Miguel. Two other figures were captured in the image, but they had been scratched out with sharpie in an erratic way.

"Have you seen him pass by?" You asked sweetly, casually flicking your wrist in a manner that tightened the hold slightly – eliciting a panicked yelp from the trapped villain.

With subtle adjustments to your grip, you allowed enough leeway for Hobgoblin to speak freely without fear of suffocation taking over completely.

His voice trembled as he stammered out his denial. "No, I swear! Never seen him!" He insisted, frantically shaking his head to emphasize sincerity.

You dismissed Hobgoblin's protests with a simple hum, signaling your skepticism but accepting his statement nonetheless.

You released Hobgoblin abruptly, your tendrils flinging him through the air until he collided with a nearby wall with bone-crunching force. Dust clouds rose as he slumped to the ground lifelessly.

Your attention shifted towards another hostage suspended upside down by your tendrils - a Western-style cowboy hat obscuring most of his face save for a pair of terrified eyes peering back at you warily through his red bandana.

"¿Y tú, arañanita?" you queried gently, pulling him closer while pressing the photograph up against his masked face for emphasis.

"Have you seen him?"

Unease etched across his features as he examined the snapshot showing Miguel's likeness within its borders. Despite attempts to hide his recognition behind a facade of stoicism, the slight twitch of his eyebrow revealed the truth.

He knows

"I don't even know who he is," he lied smoothly, maintaining composure despite the racing rhythm drumming through his body like wildfire.

Yet as his gaze met yours, fear gripped him fully as he saw a knowing look reflected in your irises and a faint smile gracing your lips.

You know

"We're in a hurry, so we'll make this quick," you murmured soothingly.

With those final words uttered, two thick tendrils snaked their way around his skull, muffling any protest that lingered on his tongue thereafter.

Within moments, the helpless cowboy found himself engulfed in complete darkness due to your suffocating grasp covering his face entirely.

His muffled cries grew louder but ultimately faded into the air of the isolated area.

[jarofstyles]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy- Patreon

Hello! We’ve been getting asks about what our series are about, and we wanted to show you guys a little piece of what we have on there 🫶 this is a series about rancher and cowboy h, and Y/N is very happy to be getting a job out on the infamous ranch with her passion for the horses and the beauty of the land.

WC- 1.6k

Here is our sneak peek! You can join us on Patreon for multiple exclusive series (100+ pieces) and early access to our writing.

——-

The place was fucking gorgeous… but that didn’t seem to compare to the cowboy showing her around. Jesus Christ, the man was something of a movie star quality man.

He was polite and charming. Holding his hand out to take hers when they’d have to move over a bit of rougher terrain, his calloused fingers gently caressing hers with a sly smile. The hat on his head shaded his eyes so he could look properly, giving her eye contact the entire time. Chillingly hot eye contact that had her feeling a bit weak in the knees. Soft green, greener than the grass in the fields that sprawled the ranch.

“I think you’d like workin’ here. It’s a family for sure.” He hummed, moving his hat off to brush his longer locks out of his face and adjusting the hat back on. He was bronzed and golden skinned from working outside, a light dusting of freckles just barely visible from her distance. Carved cheekbones and sharp jawline but dimples deeper than the valley, he was a god like being standing in front of her with a sweet disposition he probably hid a bit from others.

“I think so, yes. It’s my dream. You know? It’s a bit cheesy to some at the school… everyone’s always dreaming to run off to the city. But I love the place. The animals. The air.” She murmured, looking around the ranch. Y/N was hyper aware of the warm form of the man next to her, and the fact he was looking at her. Never had she experienced such an attentive man in terms of talking to her. No checking of his phone, no looking away.

She also was unaware of how Harry was genuinely a bit in awe of her. The starry eyed cowboy drinking in her essence and watching carefully as she spoke. Observing the details he hadn’t managed before. Beating himself up over not having known her before. Because, how? A girl in their area who wanted to stay? Who genuinely loved his land? That was a rarity. It wasn’t going to take much to have him be taken with her.

“I think that’s Amazin’.” He smiled, placing his hand on the small of her back and leading her towards the barn where their personal horses were kept. “You’re like me then. Content with home. Everyone says… they want wild adventures. Don’t even bother lookin’ in their own backyard. And that’s a damn shame, cause there’s plenty.” He spoke as they walked. Her eyes trailed his petal pink lips, the slight stubble left on the skin on his face, the radiance in his entire being. Harry was truly one of a kind. Even with dirt smudged on his jeans, clunky cowboy boots and the occasional scratch on his hand he managed to be graceful and smooth.

“Exactly.” She chirped, excited that he got it. “To me… there’s nothing like the festivals downtown. Learning to make new things. Finding a new watering hole or mapping out the land. I love the bonfires and cookouts. I don’t know. I find there’s a beauty in simplicity.” She turned to look at him, eyes squinted for a moment before they adjusted to the sun. It was beautiful outside despite the heat. The blue skies elevated her mood, but she did think that it was mostly attributed to the man guiding her around.

Harry felt his heart swell and a round of hopeful caterpillar‘s making their cocoons inside of his stomach. So many times he’s been hoping to find someone of a similar mindset. Someone he could get close to and not worry about them wanting to run off later down the line. It just felt… nice. Comforting. Knowing someone else felt the same as he did.

“You get me, Sweets.” He lightly flexed his hand on her back as his smile widened. Harry was a skeptic romantic. Meaning he held his cards close before he let them show. He’s flirt and tease but playfully. It wasn’t real unless he felt secure. Something he felt more and more of each time this pretty girl opened her mouth. A dangerous combination for him.

His approval made her giddy, having to stop herself from skipping as he opened the barn door up with a creaky slide. “We’re getting new doors on the barn so it doesn’t cause such a ruckus. But this barn is for our personal horses. I’ve got a few, but my soul partner is right over here.” He led her over to a large black stallion. A white star shaped mark right between his eyes. “His name is Perseus. Or Percy, for short.” He grinned widely at the giggle that left her mouth, his hand stroking over his nose with gentle affection.

“Percy, hm?” She looked at Harry for approval before stroking the side of the horse’s strong neck. “What a beautiful big boy.” A gentle coo had the hose sighing. A sign of relaxation, making her beam. “Yes, you are a strong, Handsome one. I can tell.” Her hands worked over the front of the horse with a cooed affection that had Harry- in simpler terms- about to act up.

He was far closer to his horses than people realized. He loved his animals and had a special connection to them, but especially Percy. His best friend. He’d gotten him for his 21st, and ever since they’d been attached at the hip. “Oh, he likes you.” His deep voice rumbled through her stomach and almost made her jump. “He doesn’t usually take to stranger so fast. Got ‘im begging for attention. He will eat it up when he like ‘ya.”

So would Harry. He felt a little pathetic being jealous for wanting the girl to be stroking at his face like that. She had smooth hands.

“Does he get that from his Daddy?”

The giggled tease had Harry caught of guard but sent him into a laugh, head thrown back at the gall. This woman was something else… and it was calling right to him. A bit of banter was sexy. Especially teasing.

“Maybe so. But it takes a special woman to get men like us to behave like mere pups.” He hummed, leaning his hip against the stall door.

“Mhm. I bet that’s true.” She looked at him from under her lashes with a coy smile before returning her attention to the stallion.

I’ll be damned. He thought. This was the fastest a woman had managed to tangle Harry up in a lasso, but it seemed like he was pulling it tighter than she had even meant to.

“How many personal horses are then?” Her question snapped him out of his fantasy in his mind. Not an appropriate one to be having about a staff member but Harry knew that in his gut, she would be far more than that.

“I have 3. Percy, here.” He nudged his chin towards him. “Then we’ve got Athena. And Cash.” He pointed towards a paint mare and a chestnut… what seemed to be thoroughbred stallion. “Those are mine. Over there are my fathers two, and my mothers one though she doesn’t ride often. Hers is used more for riding lessons and all that. Sister got some too. So… 8. We got room for two more personal. Staff and ranch hands, if they got ‘Em, keep them in the commercial barns. There’s a lot of ‘em here.” Though she knew that. “I’m assuming you’ll like to spend time with all of them.”

“Well… Percy is a favorite so far.” She grinned towards the horse. “But you’d be right. I adore all animals but horses.. they’re a soft spot for me. I want to have a few of my own one day.” She said it shyly. It was stupid to be shy and Y/N knew that. Harry got it more than anymore but there was still that residual shame she felt from peers when she said she was happy where she was and wanted to keep going. She didn’t have the same wanderlust as everyone else.

“Hey.” He took a risk, gently lifting her chin up with his thumb. “Nothin’ wrong with that. Don’t know why you’re embarrassed when m’the one who just gushed over lovin’ my horses.” He teased lightly, keeping those pretty eyes of hers locked with his. “I’m glad… I’ve met someone who’s like me. Everyone in a rush to leave and fail to see how much fun and how beautiful life can be when you enjoy what you’ve got. The horses, the nature, everything. Everyone at school has those big city dreams. That’s fine n’dandy for them, but you n’me? We get it. We like how we were raised and we are comfortable being here. Don’t let ‘em haunt you. You can be open here. In fact… I’d love to see more of you like that. It’s not every day you come across a pretty little thing with a good head on her shoulders. My momma will eat you up and be happy you’re around. Some sense, she’ll say.” He gently stroked her chin before letting his hand drop. It was pathetic for her to miss the rough pad of the finger on her smooth skin, but she did.

“Yeah?” She asked shyly, looking up at him while shifting back and forth from heel to toe. A childlike comfort that Harry found to be fucking adorable.

“Yeah, Darlin’. Don’t worry about any of ‘em here. You’ve got me… and a whole load of other folks who have pride in loving where they’re from. “ he paused, taking in the sparkly flint in her eyes though she was a bit shy. It made him feel all the more eager to protect her, to make her see she was one of them. “I think you’ll fit in here just fine.”

[yan-lorkai]

Yandere!Alucard x Male reader, very very obsessed and possessive, he wants to claim you for himself, turn you and drink your blood...but he has to struggle with controlling himself, otherwise you'll turn into a ghoul due to the vampire rule

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡Alucard is utterly consumed by his obsession. He knows it, Integra knows it. Even you know about it. And as a creature of darkness, Alucard isn't bound by mere morals about what is right and what is not. He know he loves you and that's enough for him. As a vampire, every aspect of his existence revolves around the desire to claim and possess, and when you caught his sight then he want to claim and possess you. Body and mind, everything is his since day one.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You were his since your eyes connected, you were his since his name flowed through your lips when you greet him politely. You were his and nothing you could do will change that.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Alucard's possessiveness knows no bounds. He constantly monitors your every move as if he was your second shadow, fiercely guarding you from any potential threats, both human and supernatural - and when he couldn't be there with you, he usually let Baskerville roam freely to guard you instead or he'll just trap you in his room. He'll go to extreme lengths to eliminate anyone he perceives as a threat to your relationship. Doesn't matter who it is, your friend, your classmate or boss. Even your family isn't safe from him.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Though he is quite lenient with you to an extent. Maybe your family can be spared from him if you give him something, anything at all. A kiss, a hug, your time and company. Your blood. Or you, preferably you since everything else comes with you. He wants to be closer to you, want to hold you and never let you, all the while he teases you for being a little afraid of him.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Alucard always take you with him while he is on a mission, buying you anything you want and professing his love for you all the while maintaining a chillingly possessive behavior over you - yes, even while he is all bloody after killing a few ghouls and vampires. But hey, it's the thought that matters! Alucard know that humans in general like affection so he give you plenty.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He is very similar to a cat, nuzzling onto your neck, touching you to feel your warmth. He also likes to steal a few kisses or whispers dark promises to you. Your safety and well-being are Alucard's top priorities, but his methods of protection can be suffocating and controlling.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He is loveable when he wants to be. Often times he is not, teasing and mocking and rilling you up to later suck on your blood. Sweet, hot blood trailing down his messy face while he drink it, almost incapable of stopping. You have to physically fight him if you want to make him separate from you. Otherwise he is like a leech, always sucking and nibbling and kissing and biting. The worst part is it feels so good.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He likes to hold your head on his hand, turning your neck to the side just a little to feast on it. And his hold is gentle, reverent words escaping his bloody lips between bites. Despite his intense hunger for you, Alucard often has to remember himself to not get carried away. Otherwise you'll be a ghoul instead of his little consort when he turn you.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ And by no means he'll do something like that. A ghoul is nothing more than an empty casket of who one used to be and he don't want that destiny for you. Dear, lively you who sometimes is as skittish as a frightened bunny and sometimes as bold as a fox, testing the waters to see how he react. Though he doesn't mind at all, trying to compromise with you about you can or can't do, letting you have a little freedom. He isn't a monster... Right?

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Overall, Alucard likes to control what you do, with who you're with and where are you. It's just his love, you know? And he hasn't felt this way in a long time so he want to protect you and love you as deserve.

[eldritch-spouse]

The reality that I have been kidnapped by Hudsyn is setting in. I look at the tea and take a small sip hoping it isn’t spiked with anything.

I look towards the wall with the papers taped to then and make a gesture. Scooting closer to them and Hudsyn, (trying to see if I can make anything out of his face underneath his hood.)

“Oh are these related to your, and um I guess now our research… dear mentor? Please tell me more, and I am fascinated to hear about your breakthrough.”

(He watches you raise the cup to your lips with a wordless stare that seems to pierce into your soul.)

(The sensation that floods into your tastebuds instantly soaks into every inch of your tongue at once, somewhere between scalding hot and spine-chillingly cold, a strange metallic tang that quickly burns into an unforgettable sweetness. Your eyes widen like dinner plates and you rip the cup away from your lips, spilling a bit down the side, trying to control your sudden drooling. What in the fuck was that?)

" Remarkable, isn't it? "

(The demonoid in front of your murmurs, looking far too pleased for his own good. In a matter of moments, this wave of overpowering calmness takes over every muscle in your body, compelling you to slowly place the cup down. Although you're inwardly panicking, your body seems unresponsive to that stress, feeling as light as a feather while a smile paints itself on your features. You are... Content? More than that, you're fixated on the monster in front of you.)

(For a moment, you swear you can see into his mind, his feelings- His boundless excitement becomes your own, making you want to bounce your leg, tear your clothes off, sink your teeth into the nearest tangible object. You feel everything, the tangled, knotted mess of information flying over his conscious, symbols that hold no meaning to you but describe the world itself to him, crazed murmurs and broken cooing and what must be his internal cackling, flashes of something descending from above before it all dies down in a rattling hiss. Finally finally oh finally- He seems to think.)

(The unending panic must show in your eyes while you try to fight this madness, try to process it.)

" Oh no no, don't look at me like that. I am above something as disgustingly perverted as spiking your drink. I assure you that is exactly how you're supposed to feel! And your dosage is much more diluted than mine -You're only human, of course- But imagine what you could glimpse into with the right amount! "

(He hacks with the force of his laughter.)

" I could hit you over the head with the volumes upon volumes of theories about this very substance and it still wouldn't register just how many fucking possibilities it opens for us. "

(The demonoid seems eager to continue rambling about the fluid in the cup -Though, curiously, for as much as he said thus far, he revealed nothing at all- But you interject before he can. Although you are subtle in your approach, the darkness shielding his face is far too enigmatic to make out finer details. You note an odd section where natural light does seem to reflect, oddly symmetrical with the way it cleaves the top part of his head. Other than that, you can't make out any semblance of real facial features on him yet.)

" Yes, why yes they are! "

(The historian jumps to a stand, quickly scheming and ripping one of the pages out of the wall. Something strangely small and thin wags frantically in the back of his robes. Before you can question it too much, he's already sliding the weathered page towards you on the table, grin so wide you fear it'll eat his whole face.)

" Mentee, tell me what's the first thing that comes to mind when you see this image? "

[nymphoheretic]

Hate Sex:  Sexual intercourse between people who hate one another.

Synopsis: You hate the beast inside your boyfriend, but it loves your pussy. Maybe you did love it too.

Warnings: Hate sex, rough sex, mating press, creampie, slight tybw spoilers, Hollow is called Shiro to avoid any further spoilers, afab!reader (no pronouns mentioned) pet names(Toy, Queen)

Word Count: 0.7k

Pairing: Hollow Ichigo x Afab!reader

Tags: @semisgroupie @anime-nymph @evierena @natural-goddess @punchingsasukebymoonlight @spiral_flood @makaylasierra789 @thus-spoke-gee @fandomterrorist @randomveyn @sinsayah @chaotic-nick @shoutaswhore @actually-a-tampon @deputy-videogamer @kashasenpai @tokyometronetwork @bakugosbratx @awilddreamermain @monaukah @ovarysnake23 @itsjustfics @mikasavqx @animeguyswhore030208 @whatelsecouldgowrong @metalpink @megumri @mindlesschicca @cherrymangobanana @nappingwithyuuji @leoncito1503 @petalsrdead @o3o-aya @misslovingpearl @chaos-night @starry-supernova @slutforkyojuro @stygianoir @babiefwuit @shirohyorin​ @sailewhoremoonn​ @no3tis @noriken

Your body shook with each thrust the man above you gave. You hate that you were so attracted to this beast that lived inside your boyfriend. Hate how easily your body grew so needy for him when you felt the changes in Ichigo’s soft, gentle touches becoming rougher and more demanding. Hate how his chillingly warped voice echoes in your ear as he calls you his little toy.

You hate how he was using your boyfriend’s face as he spews his degrading words at you. The only way you knew this wasn’t Ichigo was the gold glow his eyes shine as he forces you to look up at him. You hate how he would lift your leg to his face and run his tongue up your calf until it reached the gold anklet Ichigo had given to you with his name on it. 

Because he loves seeing the hatred burn in your eyes as he did it. 

“Aww, is my little toy getting mad that I’m fucking you so deeply or that I’m messing with this.” His teeth pulls the chain taut against your skin, his insane giggles echoing through your shared bedroom with your boyfriend. “Oh?” His snaps his hips into yours, feeling you clamp down on him after he pulls on the anklet. “Does the King do this? Pulls on this little chain while fucking you in a press like so.” 

He pushes your knees to your chest as he fucks into you even harder, the wet slap of his balls hitting the curve of your ass filling your ears even more.  He watches with glee as you bite your lip to prevent your moans from coming out. “Don’t want me to hear them? Don’t worry the King is still sleeping. Go ahead and moan pretty f’me, yeah?”

You don’t want to do as he said, but he angles his hips so that he was putting constant pressure on the one spot that Ichigo and he both knew drives you crazy. Your body jolts as your back arches off the bed, mouth dropping open in a loud cry of the name you dubbed the beast. “Shiro!” You dig your nails into his back as he pounds into you, not once slowing down his tempo. You could feel your walls constrict around his length as the ball of heat, wound tighter and tighter inside.

“Going to cum?” He mocked his tongue slipping out to circle around a perk nipple. “Going to let the beast you hate so much fuck you so much that you can’t even speak?” He laughs again, increasing the speed of his thrusts once more, until the bed was creaking under the two of you; the headboard slamming against the wall, the tip of his cock pressing against the sweet, gooey spot. “Go on, cum for me, my pretty little toy.”

You shake your head, not wanting to give into this demon’s demands, but your body was betraying you as your thighs began to tremble, your walls spasming around his cock. “No.” You plead. You didn’t want to cum to this look-a-like’s touches. You hated him. You hated him so much. “I hate you, Shiro!” You screamed out as you gushed around his cock, squirting your juices down his shaft and balls.

He grins as he leans up and licks his lips feeling your cum coat his dick. “No, you fucking don’t. You gave me a name. You love me just as much as that pathetic excuse for a King.” His thrusts start to grow sloppy as his own high was approaching as your clenching walls attempt to milk him of his seed. “Greedy fucking cunt wants my cum, huh? Then fucking take it!” He pumps into you once, twice, three times more before he locks his hips into yours, his cock twitching within your depths.

A moan escapes from the feeling of his hot seed painting your insides in thick ropes of white. "Shiro...” you coo out, your hands coming up to cup the fine hairs on the back of his neck. “Give me back my Ichigo.”

Shiro looks at you with unblinking golden eyes as they begin to flicker to the warm amber color you fell in love with. As the hollow faded back into Ichigo’s consciousness, his voice echoes. “I’ll be back, Queen...”

©️2022 nymphoheretic - I do not give permission to copy, edit, alter, or distribute my work. Do not adverse on tiktok. Do not repost on any other platform.

[cherryblossom-chopper]

》Human Shield《

Content: Kidd with Hurt/Comfort. Ambiguous Reader. Stab Wound. Blood.

————— ୨୧ —————

"I know it hurts," Kidd murmurs, his lips brushing your forehead. Tight, worry lines mar his brows when he sees the lipstick smudge on your skin. The pigment is too chillingly similar to the blood caking your outer thigh.

Your clammy, trembling fingers are knit between Kidd's as you squeeze his hand. His calloused fingers tenderly press into yours, tightening at each pained sound.

Killer's less-than-gentle hands hold your leg before pressing a rag drenched in antiseptic against your wound.

Wincing, Kidd holds you down via his grip on your shoulder to stop you from thrashing so much. "Be still for once, please," Kidd grunts, rubbing his thumb against your hand.

"Kidd," you whimper, tucking your head into his shoulder, "I'm sorry." Your vision was swaying again, making your stomach churn.

"You should be," Kidd retorts, "You're such an idiot, getting in my way like that." His words are harsh, but there's a quiver in the back of his throat. He tries to clear it with a subtle cough, but Kidd knows you've heard the fear in his voice. "You're grounded for at least a week," he says, trying to seem firm, but his heart lightens when you laugh just a little. A thin smile graces his lips; such a sweet sound weakens him.

"I'm gonna start the stitches," Killer says, breaking the lover's moment, "They'll be imperfect, but they'll get the job done."

"Let's just get this over with," you groan, the sweat on your brow slipping down your face. Your stomach flips at the mere thought of Killer stitching you up, never mind the actions about to unfold.

Kidd holds you closer to his chest, shushing you softly. "When you're un-grounded, I'll take you out and buy you whatever, okay? Just be brave for me," Kidd promises, squeezing you when you flinch. His metallic heart clenches at your distress. The terror of the sea is rendered pathetic at even the hint of your slightest discomforts, so he was grateful for Killer's presence. The other crew members knew Kidd was soft for you, but seeing him on his knees for you would be a subject of jokes for ages.

"Killer, please hurry up," you hiss, gripping Kidd's hands tightly, "I hate this." You look up at your partner and are startled by his expression. Kidd was watching Killer with intense scrutiny. You'd never seen him look so frustrated and helpless simultaneously, and you'd never seen him look at Killer of all people with uncertainty. You're so focused on studying your partner's face that you hardly notice that Killer is done. "It's not pretty, but it's staying," he assures you both; well, more Kidd than you.

Kidd lets you go and inspect Killer's handiwork for a moment before sweeping you into his arms. He's careful not to touch your stitches as he holds you close. "Let's get your grounded ass back to the Punk," he grunts, "I've got to keep an eye on you."

Exhaustion settles into your mind as you lean into him. For once, you don't argue or struggle; you simply accept his help. Your throbbing leg was bothersome, but the thump of Kidd's heartbeat was enough to help you settle yourself.

"I love you too, Kidd."

————— ୨୧ —————

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[biteofcherry]

Well now I want to know about their* fave drinks, fruits, and flowers!

Especially flowers—how would they react, I wonder, if you brought them flowers just because they made you think of him? 😂🥰

*Ari (all, any, yaaas), Nesting!Steve, and GrainofTruth!Steve are all on my mind, but answer about whomever you like! ����

Hahahaha, I absolutely adore you @eralen 😘 you're the bestest! 💕

Mafia!Ari (Sweet Thrill) is a vodka kind of man, top shelf of course like Gray Goose and it has to be chillingly cold. Non alcoholic, it's surprisingly all types of tea. He's a connoisseur. He'll make tea for both of you and cuddle with you on the couch, reading books. Flavor-wise he likes really sweet fruit, but mostly focuses on buying fruit that can be cut into pieces that don't turn into mush, because he likes to feed his pet treats while you kneel at his feet. He likes this game where you're blindfolded and with open mouth await if you'll get a fruit, a finger, or a cock next 😏 He buys you peonies, as he prefers something more unique yet still classic. And there's always an abundance, the bouquets barely fitting in your arms. You get him black roses - elegant and dark to match Ari's intensity. It surprises him, but he keeps them until they crumble, and cuts the head of one rose to keep in his breastpocket.

Alpha!Steve (Grain of truth) doesn't drink alcohol often, even if you're at a restaurant or party, but if he does then it's either whisky or gin. He's one of those people who drink lots of water and of course all types of coffee brew, even occasionally some crazy Starbucks frappuccino. Steve's an all American boy, so cherries, peaches, apples, blueberries are his fruit to go. Though, honestly, he prefers them in pies than eating fresh fruit 😆 He likes house plants and simple garden flowers, since those are the kinds his Ma had and because it's what you like. He has a really hilariously dumbfounded face when you stumble into the house trying to carry a heavy pot with a pachira plant. When he takes it from your hands, you announce you got it for him - because it grows ridiculously huge and is unkillable. Steve reminds you thoroughly why you like his size so much and why you shouldn't complain about it... And then spanks you when you name the plant Alphachira 😂

Mafia!Steve (Nesting) is definitely a whisky guy, Chivas commercial vibes only smoother and hotter when Steve savors the flavor and you're unable to avert your gaze from his lips. Otherwise, he likes smoothies and coffee and isn't picky as long as it tastes good. Fruit is something he rarely munchies on, he actually eats it more since you're with him, so it's the types you like to eat. He does have a sweet spot for peaches, though. but that's mostly, because you get all squirmy and wet when he devours eats one in front of you... 🤤 Teases you, asking if you need him to eat your peach (and doesn't even wait for an answer, spreading you on the nearest surface). Steve appreciates flower bouquets, there were always some in vases around his penthouse even before you moved in. Elegant roses that were regularly delivered from a flower shop. Then you change the order and the flowers start coming more colorful and chaotic. He likes the freesias most, their scent reminds him of your perfume.

Alpha!Ari (Bad moon rising) likes a good, dark beer (not the light piss, but bitter porter), as well bourbon. His non-alcoholic choices are fresh squeezed juice and mint infused water. He doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, so coke or any soda aren't to his liking. It's also why he keeps to less exotic fruit, preferring rich but tart flavors of blackberries and cherries. Ari especially likes eating them from between your trembling lips, juice dribbling down your chins as he bites through the fruit and kisses you - after he's gone down on you and your taste is still in his mouth, mixing with the tart fruit 😏 He likes field flowers, like cornflowers or poppies, and lilies of the valley that grow in patches in various parts of the woods belonging to your pack. If you bring him a small bouquet, he'll display them proudly in a glass on his desk (then coax you to go for a run and take you on the forest floor, right on a patch of delicate flowers).

[nickeverdeen]

Halloween in Hogwarts

The enchanted ceiling shows a stormy night, complete with occasional lightning flashes and a full moon shining eerily through the clouds

Pumpkins float everywhere, carved with faces that shift expressions from cheerful to creepy

Every house has its own decorations

Gryffindor

- Fires blaze brighter, flickering with eerie green and purple flames

- The Fat Lady’s portrait has her dressed as a fierce banshee, cackling loudly whenever someone tries to enter

2. Hufflepuff

- The Common Room has enchanted gourds that offer compliments as students walk by, but with a spooky twist

- “My, don’t you look bone-chillingly gorgeous!” Hufflepuffs also hand out ghost-shaped treats enchanted to hover just out of reach, making people work for their sweets

3. Ravenclaw

- All the books in the Common Room are transformed with “haunted” editions—flipping pages or whispering ghostly knowledge as they pass by

- They also have a spell-casting competition to create the spookiest illusion in the night sky

4. Slytherin

- They go full gothic

- Shadows in the Common Room seem to stretch and follow students, and eerie underwater sounds echo from the lake

The ghosts get into character as different famous wizards and creatures

Nearly Headless Nick dresses as a headless horseman, riding a ghostly horse through the corridors, while the Bloody Baron makes an appearance as a phantom specter of death, complete with a chilling silence that follows him

Professor Snape holds a special Halloween potion class where each student brews a potion that temporarily transforms them into a random magical creature for a few minutes

This results in students walking around as phoenixes, baby dragons, and even miniature trolls for a short time—some hilariously managing their new forms better than others

The bravest students sneak down to the kitchens for a secret Halloween feast of wizarding-world treats

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSOM SHADE

Chapter 04

Dangerous Games

Trigger warning

Everybody's looking for something.

Some of them want to use you.

Some of them want to get used by you.

- ( The song of the chapter is ''Sweet Dreams" by Eurythmics)

Everyone needs to learn from Khushi Sen Gupta how to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It's practically her speciality now-a-days.

It's like she has a knack for getting caught up in situations she shouldn't be anywhere near.

If she ever writes a book about her life, she would name it "Idiot's Handbook of How to Be in the Wrong Places Willingly." She's certain people would line up to read it. After all, how many mob daughters have the audacity to expose their chaotic lives for public consumption? It could even top the charts, if she manages to live long enough to put it on paper. But right now, survival feels like a long shot. With the way things are spiralling, she's not even sure she'll make it out of this evening alive, let alone back home in one piece.

Her gut twists into a tight knot as each unsteady step brings her closer to the deserted construction site, likely once intended for a farmhouse. Her footsteps echo eerily in the silence.

The grim-looking, dilapidated, half-built structure and its rusting steel beams loomed on the outskirts of the shady neighborhood. It only has roofs and pillars, with no walls around it. The ground is uneven, littered with debris, discarded materials and overgrown weeds.

She prides herself on her intelligence, but right now, all she can think about is how unbelievably stupid she is. A world-class idiot. The type who, despite her intelligence, follows the instructions of a stranger on the other end of the line without thinking twice.

''How did I let myself get dragged into something so reckless?"

In her defense though, she was trying to believe in humanity. Damn it.

Maybe she's just overthinking it. Who would even bother to set a trap for her? She's a nobody. If they were to kidnap her, then they might secure a hefty amount of ransom from her father, but that would clearly be a death sentence for them. Nothing is more valuable to his father than his reputation, not even his own daughter.

For her father, it's less about her safety and more about his obsession with control, over his men, over her, over her actions, over the leverage against her.

She has long since stopped feeling disappointed. It leaves her in a space that hovers between fearless and reckless.

Just like how she told her father she was heading to the shopping mall. Then She slipped away before his goons could catch up. She did this enough times to earn nothing but disapproving glances from him.

Shaking off the distracting thoughts, she squares her shoulders and moves toward the half-built structure as quietly as possible. The gravel crunches beneath her shoes. The site is spine-chillingly quiet, save for the occasional groan of shifting metal or the distant hum of the city, muffled and distant.

As she makes her way through the debris and broken equipment, her heart pounds, her hands feel clammy. The air is heavy with the smell of dust and decay, so is her breathing. Her chest feels tight, weighed down by the unnerving vibe of her circumstances.

Once inside, she takes shelter behind a pillar. Pressing her back against it, she hides while sharply scanning the area, her eyes darting for any sign of movement.

Khushi opted for a bold red shirt today, feeling unusually daring. The vibrant hue gave her an unexpected surge of confidence. She paired it with a high-waisted, faded jeans and pulled her hair back into a high ponytail. A pair of oversized sunglasses sit on her face, an attempt to hide her identity just a little. Her favourite sneakers are on, ready in case she needs to make a quick escape.

She takes her sunglasses off, slipping them into her jeans pocket. The thought that this might all be a trap refuses to leave her mind, making it nearly impossible to focus. It's like gnawing at her.

Before, she never had to worry about someone trying to trap her. But now? Didn't she just unintentionally make an enemy? Yeah, she made an enemy out of an enemy. Brilliant.

Do the Eagles really care enough to lay a trap for her? Just last week, she walked right into the den of the Eagles, had a face-off against the notorious Vulture and came out intact. She knows they have no interest in igniting a mob war. If they did, Arnav Singh Raizada would have exposed her little stunt that very night. But he didn't. He let her go.

But what if he changed his mind?

Shit, why didn't she think of that sooner?

It still stuns her that she was at the mercy of Arnav Singh Raizada.

The Arnav Singh Raizada.

He had her pinned against the wall, her own knives at her throat. And yet, he let her go. In fact, he even arranged for his manager to drive her back to her dorm.

Unnoticed, unharmed.

The walk from his door, down the stairs, and toward the front gate felt endless. With every step, she heard her heart pounding in her ears.

What did he say?

That he owned her.

That he'd collect his debt.

Fuck.

How could she possibly repay someone like Arnav Singh Raizada?

At the gate, two guards blocked her path but immediately stepped aside when a shadow from the first floor loomed over them. She glanced back. There he was, standing in front of a glass window, one hand in his pocket, and with a flick of his fingers, he motioned for the guards to let her pass. His eyes were never not on her.

A surge of overwhelming rage pushed aside her irritation, embarrassment, and mortification.

A man came out from the bungalow beside the main building, dishevelled, as though he had haphazardly thrown his clothes on.

"Hello, Miss Gupta, I am Aman Mathur. I'll be your driver today," he greeted her politely, a little breathless. He had an unexplainable calming aura about him.

Khushi couldn't help but offer him a small smile. "It's okay, you don't have to. I can manage."

"Oh, trust me, Miss Gupta, both of our lives would be a little easier this way." At the implication in his voice, her eyes snapped to the figure still watching them like a hawk. She felt her lips set in a hard line as his twisted just a little at the corners. And it's gone as soon as it appeared. Her fist clenched mirroring the anger in her eyes.

"After you," Mr. Mathur led her toward a car and, like a true gentleman, opened the door for her. Taking a deep breath, she went in after sparing a last glance at the first-floor window.

The entire ride had been a blur of disbelief. Disbelief at her own audacity. Disbelief at her failed attempt. Disbelief at how close she'd come. And most of all, disbelief at Arnav Singh Raizada.

A cool breeze brushes against Khushi's skin bringing her back to the deserted farmhouse, sending a faint tremor down her arms, goosebumps prickling her flesh in response. Yet, it's not the chill that unnerves her, it's the unsettling stillness like the air itself is holding its breath.

The sun hovers low, on the verge of slipping beneath the horizon, casting just enough light to stretch the outlines of the building into dark, haunting shadows across the ground. The fading light appears to play tricks on her eyes, making the shadows shift and twist as if they possess a life of their own.

She looks down at her watch.

5:38 PM

It's way past the scheduled time set by the informer. Her hand hovers over the Glock 43 in her pocket. It's a gift from her father on her twentieth birthday. She's never had to use it before. But never say never, right? That seems to be the ongoing theme anyway.

She's a minute away from walking away from all these shenanigans. The urge to run, to abandon it all, tugs at her stronger with every passing second.

The crunch of gravel beneath someone's shoes sends her nerves into overdrive. Her hand tightens around the gun. Just then, her phone buzzes in her pocket.

She soundlessly puts the phone in her ear.

"Are you here, Miss Gupta?"

"Yes."

"Where are you? I don't see you. Did you come alone? Did you bring the money?"

She feels a pulse of anxiety at his questions. "You'll only get the money after you tell me what you know."

"Miss Gupta, you can come out now."

"I'm not moving a damn inch until you explain why you brought me here," she demands firmly, her voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her stomach.

He pauses, the silence stretching between them. "I'm unarmed. Please come out so we can be done with this."

His tone is almost pleading and she can hear the underlying desperation. The shadows around her feel alive and she knows she has to tread carefully.

She peeks around the corner of the pillar to see a young man with his hands raised above his head, a gesture of harmlessness. Maintaining her grip on the gun still in her pocket, she steps out.

As soon as she comes face to face with the guy, his eyes widen. His face twists into horror as if he has just seen death in front of him. However, his gaze is focused on something or someone, behind her.

Everything happens in a blur.

She feels a rush of air brush past her hair. The warmth still lingers in the air. And the man drops to the ground with a gaping hole in the center of his forehead. His eyes are still open.

"There you are, Bitterheart."

Her breath hitches.

He is here.

With his fucking deep and deliciously husky voice, that has whispered the dark secrets of murder to her, not too long ago.

The voice, dipped in poison and sin.

It has entwined itself around her thoughts and refused to let go since their last meeting.

"Sorry, I am late. I have been looking for you everywhere. " The barrel of a gun presses against her forehead as his breath trickles her ear. "Really, Miss Gupta, A red shirt. You look like a target even from a mile away. You should have just worn black."

She spins suddenly pressing her gun at the level of his heart as she comes face to face to face with the vulture.

Molted chocolate meets her hazel brown.

"And you should have stayed out of my business."

His eyes narrow slightly, though his face remains stoic. For a few tense moments, they stand in complete silence, just guns aimed at each other, eyes having conversation in secret codes.

He smirks without any amusement reaching his cold orbs. Before she can react he presses a certain point in her gun and the magazine just falls down.

She huffs. Great. There's no way she's getting on her knees in front of him to pick it up.

"You have a unique way to say hello." He cocks an eyebrow at her.

"We both know you're not sending me to heaven anytime soon like you did with this poor soul, Mr. Raizada. So, could we stop pointing weapons at each other every time we talk?" she suggests, pulling back her magazine-less gun.

"The taste of your own medicine is pretty bitter, isn't it? Make sure next time, to toss in a sprinkle of humility. Might help it go down a little easier."

He steps into her space, invading it completely. She feels the urge to take a step back but holds her ground. He trails the barrel of the gun down her cheek, then her neck and presses it in between her breasts. The material is cold against her heated skin.

The scent of his cologne, mingled with his sweat, is intoxicating. It wraps around her like a dark cloud. His face is close, so close that she can feel the heat radiating off his skin. His breath against her skin is warm as well, a stark contrast to the chilly wind swirling around them. Even in the dim light, the sharp flecks of orange and green in his chocolate brown eyes seem to ignite, burning through the darkness.

"There are places on your body I know better than you do, Miss Gupta," he says as his free hand slides around the back of her neck, forcing her to tilt her head upward, his grip strong. "Places you've never even heard of. Places that need only one touch from me." The gun rests heavily against her racing heart. "To send you straight to heaven or hell."

She holds her head still, refusing to break eye contact. His hand cradles the back of her neck while he towers over hers. His voice drops dangerously low. "Not everyone who dies goes to heaven, Miss. Gupta."

Duh, doesn't she know that? It's just a common phrase people use.

The grip tightens ever so slightly around her neck, a silent threat in the way his fingers flex against her skin. "Don't ever make the mistake of thinking you know me," he murmurs. "It might be your last."

"Is that a threat?" her eyes narrow.

"Does it sound like a compliment? "

What the fuck does he think he is?

Years of enmity boil in her blood, intertwining with the unsettling realization that this man not only possesses the fruits of her hard work but also has the audacity to manhandle her. He's the one who has shot her informer as well.

Her heart hammers in her chest, like a hummingbird. She grits her teeth, fighting the urge to snap at the sheer arrogance rolling off the man in waves. Her breathing speeds up as her lungs struggle to keep pace with the adrenaline surging through her. How is it that every man she meets seems determined to prove they're the biggest jerk in the room?

She steps into his personal space this time, pressing her hands against his solid chest. Her fingers splay wide as she solves him with all her strength, forcing him to stumble backwards.

Triumph flares within her as she catches the fleeting surprise on his face. In a split second, he steadies his stance, moving with a grace that might have impressed her, if he were anyone else. But she isn't finished yet. She charges at him again, only for him to catch her wrists, guns and all, in both hands. In one swift motion, he presses her against the nearby pillar, pinning her hands above her head.

Irritation, frustration, and a wave of overwhelming rage surge through her as she finds herself right back in the same infuriating position.

She tries to knee him between the legs, but he senses her move, swiftly blocking her leg and locking it in place with his.

She seethes at him, eyes blazing with fury. Her voice drops to an icy growl as she spits out her words through gritted teeth, "Never make the mistake of thinking you scare me. It might be your last as well."

His jaw tenses. The air between them crackles. The tension is so thick as if the atoms have come alive. He remains cold and unyielding, while an unexplained fiery heat surges through her veins setting her skin on fire.

"Believe me, Miss Gupta, the urge to kill you is fucking killing me right now. But you are more useful to me alive than dead. And I promise you, when your purpose is served, the last face you'll see before you die will be mine. "

He releases her wrists and steps back, sliding his gun into the waistband of his dark jeans. Meanwhile, she messages her sore wrists, shooting daggers at him.

Khushi's mind erupts with a whirlwind of curses, each one sharper than the last. She bites her tongue, barely holding back the barrage of insults ready to spill from her lips. She has a whole dictionary of words she could use right now.

Arrogant prick, Cold-blooded Bastard, jackass, douchbag, Evil Monster, Son of a ---no, too mild.

You fucking piece of shit, self-obsessed, vile, three-named motherfucking rakhsas. Fuck you and fuck your twisted God complex and your smug little threats, you egoistical Asshole.

The flood of fury pulses through her veins. She mentally cycles through every foul word she's ever known in any language. The urge to unleash those curses claws at her throat, each one begging to be set free.

Despite the seething rage that fuels her every thought, she feels an involuntary tug of curiosity pulling her gaze toward him.

And against her better judgment, She lets her eyes wander slowly, tracing the sure, steady fingers up to his forearms, exposed beneath the rolled sleeves of his black shirt, each one roped with muscle. A tattoo on his left forearm, she couldn't make out that night is now visible, peeking through the fabric.

A burning rose.

She shifts her gaze from his broad shoulders to his face. The stubble lining his sharp jaw defines his jawlines even more. It casts a shadow over his high cheekbones that models around the world would weep for.

It's infuriating to think that a man who looks like he steps off the cover of a GQ magazine can be such a colossal asshole. Such a waste!

Growing impatient, she scans the area, noting the absence of any other living souls nearby. Great. Here she is, at an abandoned construction site, with a notorious asshole from a rival mob family, who has lured her out here for a reason.

"Why am I here, Mr. Raizada?" she demands, frustration lacing her voice as she grapples with the chaos of the situation, desperate for clarity. "Why did you bring me here? And why did you kill your fucking pawn?"

He crosses his arms over his chest. "I didn't set him up, but he played his part brilliantly. He came here to tell you that NK is one of the Eagles and that he's underground now."

Her mouth falls open in disbelief.

"Why did you kill him then, if you were just going to give me the information yourself?" she exclaims, arms thrown up in frustration.

"He was breaking the rules."

"And you aren't?"

"I am the rule, Miss Gupta. No one dares to cross me."

She suppresses the urge to roll her eyes at him. Best not to push her luck too far today.

"I wanted to meet you without setting off any alarms," he says after a moment. "That's why I let him lure you out here instead of killing him somewhere else."

"How considerate!" She taps her feet on the ground, turning her head to look at anything but him. "Why do you want to meet me?"

"To talk about the hacker you mentioned."

"What about him?"

"You are under the impression that I've brought something from him." He met her gaze evenly, or at least as evenly as possible with those eyes that always seemed to be dissecting her every move.

She fixes him with a piercing glare, her eyes narrowed to slits. "I don't just have the impression. I know you have. I hacked his server. It all leads back to you."

"Except I didn't even know who he was until you so kindly enlightened me."

"Right. And I'm supposed to just believe that?"

"Yeah."

"And why's that?"

"Because I haven't killed you yet." His eyes are hard and dangerous.

"Yet? What's stopping you from doing it right now?"

"Well, as much as I'd love to, I don't feel like starting a war today. Despite our families' little blood feud, the truth is, neither of us can afford a war right now, especially with the CBI continuously after our tails."

She doesn't want to believe him, not for a second. But then, why would he go to such lengths to meet her here? The gears in her mind start turning.

"You don't have the evidence?" she asks eyeing him suspiciously.

"No."

"So you're saying someone went to the trouble of elaborately framing you, even down to forging transaction details, knowing full well anyone could trace it back?"

"Something like that."

"And why would he bother doing that?"

"I'd love to know that too," he states shrugging his should, eyes still locked on hers.

Frustrated, she crosses her arms over her chest, watching as Mr. Raizada's eyes flicker at the action before landing on hers once again. "So now what?"

She wants to snap at him and instil some manners in him. Staring at a woman like that is very rude, Mr. Raizada. Instead, she just stares right back at him. Hard. Two can play the same game.

"You're going to work for me."

Author's note: Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Things are really starting to heat up, and I can't wait to hear your thoughts on what's going to happen next! Any guesses on what's in store for our love birds?

Until next time, stay awesome!

<previous>| < next>

@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @msbhagirathi @titaliya @arshiradio

[i-like-anything-water]

I thought about rehashing one of my prior Chloenette ideas. Basically, Miraculous Canon, but Marinette and Chloe have been dating for at least two years by the time canon starts. Their personalities are exactly the same as at the start of canon, but with the one change being that they are a couple.

Origins starts with Marinette taking her seat in Ms. Bustier's class, when she sees Chloe marching over, sighs, and braces herself... when Chloe cheerfully jumps into her arms, smothering her face in kisses, and begins talking about how eager she is for Marinette to FINALLY meet her old friend Adrien. Sabrina sits next to them, and mentions that Chloe has been blowing up Adrien's email and texts for months trying to get him to come to school, with Marinette taking notice of just how nervous Chloe is... and offers to move to a different seat for the year so that she can spend that time catching up with Adrien. When Chloe naturally protests the idea of having her girlfriend sit somewhere else, Marinette shuts her up with a kiss and moves back a couple rows.

Soon, Alya walks in and asks Marinette if the seat next to her is taken, with Marinette replying it's not. When she sits down, she catches the sight of Chloe staring at her out of the corner of her eye. When she mentions the look the blonde girl gave her to Marinette, Mari responds that Chloe's harmless, before giving a silly story about some of Chloe's more tame antics in the past. As the two share a laugh and talk about their respective passions, Chloe begins to slowly carve gouges into her desk with her nails at the sight of some OTHER girl trying to make moves on HER Marinette. Adrien... failing to show up just makes her mood worsen.

Later, after Ivan storms off to the Principal's office after threatening Kim due to his needling, Marinette introduces her new friend to her girlfriend. Alya's all for becoming friends with Chloe... who sadly doesn't reciprocate, giving a chillingly fake smile before asking Marinette if she'd go get something from her locker. After Mari walks off, Chloe bluntly asks Alya what she'll have to pay her so that she never talks to Marinette ever again. After a moment of confusion, Alya angrily demands to know what the blonde's problem is, with Chloe firing back that she "has Alya's number," and knows that she's just another leech looking to take advantage of Marinette's exceptional nature, and if bribing her means that her sweet girlfriend doesn't have to taint herself with a loser parasite like Alya, then she'll pay it everytime.

Just as Alya is about to start screaming at the insufferable blonde, Marinette shows up, asking what's going on, with Chloe's cruel smugness fading away to a loving smile as she cheerfully lies about how she and Alya were "setting some boundaries, right Alya?" Alya, torn between calling Chloe on her BS or keeping Marinette from being hurt by their fight, takes a glance at the loving smile the duo share... and crumbles, going along with Chloe's deception. At that point, Ms. Bustier takes role call, and Stoneheart breaks through the door.

(My reasoning is that, if Marinette is able to overlook Chat Noir and Adrien's personality flaws with her respective crushes on them in canon, she's just as capable of not realizing just how utterly obnoxious her girlfriend is to everyone but herself in this AU. What do you think?)

is a ship really a ship if some people don't think it's toxic? xD I'm all here for slightly toxic but in an obsessive way chloenette! That's just how they are sometimes (most times lol) but it just adds the charm.

If I had watched only season 1 and maybe bits of season 2 is definitely think Chloe and Mari had something going on because the tension those two have in and out of suits is just really gay. Chloé 'I can't seem to stop getting into her personal space but not because she's pretty!' Bourgeois and Marinette 'I know she's mean and a bitch but maybe her prettiness somehow seeped a bit into her heart?' Dupain-Cheng xD.

If Miraculous just had Marinette flirt with girls it would definitely be more interesting and the love story probably won't be as redundant. But that's just me. The only straight ship I like in MLB is probably.... *blanks* uhh, Adrien or Luka with a female character that isn't Marinette, Chloé or Kagami (i hc her as lesbian with comphet).

I like this idea though! For giggles and maybe a bit of non explicit smut (depends on the ratings and timeline of course) and just fluffy tension. I love mean and obsessive girlfriends.

[leggerefiore]

Imagine s/o literally dragging Ingo out of the office

“Dearest, please, my paperwork is not even yet half-finished,” Ingo begged while trying to escape your iron grip, “Emmet cannot do it all alone. I am a Subway Boss alongside him!” You shook your head and clung to his arm tighter, frowning. He had been overworking himself as of late, staying gone at the station into the late hours of the night, where he would ask you not to wait up for him if you did or sneak into bed with you if you were asleep. It was a mystery what spawned this sudden behaviour, but you had enough.

Emmet agreed to let you snatch his brother from the office, aware of his current status, much himself. Which is why you were easily taking the man from the station with little intervention from Depot Agents. Ingo stared at you desperately with those shining silver eyes of his. His frown was genuine and more of a pout. “My love, I know you must feel ignored and lonely, but I assure you I do this with good reason,” he tried to convince you again, “You must understand! I… I can't leave Emmet behind!”

You laughed a bit at the desperation in his tone. One could almost assume you were taking him to his death rather than to his apartment for an evening in together. You looked him dead in the eyes. “Emmet told me this was okay,” you cooed and pecked a sweet kiss on his cheek. Ingo froze as you continued your walking.

“H-He what?” The elder twin asked in horror.

“He said you needed time off, too,” you continued, remembering the younger twin's pleas as he caught you when you brought Ingo his lunch, “He thinks his poor, older brother is working himself into an early grave.” Ingo went limp as your journey to your apartment building continued into the streets above of Nimbasa. An early spring wind blew chillingly against your forms. Onlookers watched as you dragged the defeated man home.

“I had no idea I stressed him out…” Ingo said sadly as you finally got him home, “H-have I been worrying you, too?”

“Yes,” you admitted to him and sat him on the couch. Joining him quickly, you nuzzled your face into his neck and hummed. Ingo returned the affection with ease, looking mortified still. You sighed. “Well, you can make it up to the both of us by just taking it easier, okay?” you told him, “In fact, you can make it up to me completely by just cuddling right now.” He let out a hum this time. His arms came around as he began to pepper kisses on your cheeks.

“… If that's what you wish, dearest,” Ingo softly agreed, “I love you endlessly.” You rested your head just above his heart and enjoyed the ever steady pulse as you dozed off in his embrace.

[dairy-farmer]

Hal and Tim content 🙏. Hal awkwardly dad-ing Robin Tim when Bruce would be a little too cold.

Robin!Tim: is this the ideal dad shaped man I want

Hal: look at this funky lil dude, he has trauma. why did he pick me!?!??

hal, like literally every hero, has daddy issues and usually that doesn't interfere with his life but at the sight of the small and scrawny robin getting chillingly ordered to wait in the other room while batman does whateverthefuck well...he's got a soft spot.

plus the kid is...small. and skittish. a total contrast to how he is in the field, making every move with calculated efficiency and weighted determination. from what hal knows the little third robin is a good kid. eats his vegetables, follows curfew- that sort of thing. not the kind of trouble maker hal had been. but he sees this sad little kid with bug eyes and shifty feet and....

so hal hangs with the kid a few hours. gets a couple snacks, a few sodas and kicks back with the kid. gives him a grand tour and makes a huge show of even the most mundane thing until he gets a sweet little smile and a giggle for his troubles.

hal is surprised by how much he enjoys himself, listening to the kid babble about comic books and other things hal would've noogied one of his friends for liking in highschool. he's...awfully tiny. hal can't help but think that and wonder what batman even feeds the kid.

hal asks and then gets a long-winded tale about nutrition and about how batman doesn't let him eat junk or any processed foods. the kid's talking about the mineral content in water and whole grain when hal's breaking heart just can't take it anymore-

"ya like burgers kid?"

and so several hours later hal and the kid are getting a pretty harsh dressing down from batman who ended his meeting and couldn't find his robin until he checked the teleporter logs and tracked hal and his kid down to a grease spoon diner. the kids head in hanging down. his fingers are coated in salt and oil there's empty fry cartons around them alongside discarded burger wrappers. hal is sipping on his soda and holding a grounding hand on the kid's shoulder because are they seriously getting scolded for getting a bite to eat? has batman SEEN his kid lately?

man if hal didn't like the guy before he definitly didn't now.

at first it'd been an act of rebellion, just him using his free day to entertain a poor abandoned kid. but now hal was just too aware of this small scrawny kid with too big eyes.

hal greets the kid when he sees him, totally ignoring batman looming behind them.

he starts carrying around cookies and granola, little snacks the ring lets him pack away so he can offer the kid a little something something.

it's just to be nice.

until he lands robin in the infirmary for giving him peanuts. something the kid is allergic to.

"kid! why did you eat it?" hal is scratching his head and scared out of his wits as he holds an oxygen mask to that little face. big bambi eyes blinked at him.

"because you gave them to me."

well shit. fuck. fuck. fuck okay alright okay. that was the saddest shit he'd ever heard.

hal doesn't know shit about being an adult but if he's going to be spending time around the kid he's going to have to...get better at some shit. so he gets the basics down first.

he gets the kid's birthday and sets a reminder in his phone. he buys a calender. an actual physical one and circles the date in red pen.

he learns the kid's allergies. asks what his favorite and least favorite foods are. hal makes sure he buys only those things.

he learns about stuff he likes and makes sure the watchtower waiting room has puzzles and playing cards and something called 'wizards and warlocks'.

hal gets comfortable. he starts calling robin by his name whenever he spots him around.

tim. short and cute name for a short and cute kid.

the kid gets more comfortable around hal. opening up and lamenting about the woes of highschool and being a teen vigilante and boy was hal glad to not have been a lantrn and been going through puberty at the same time.

hal likes the kid, grows fond of him.

he's nice company especially when watch tower duty is slow and mind numbingly boring.

during the worst of it hal lists off the constellations he can see from the windows. he needs to keep himself sharp because he promised he'd help tim with learning them. yet another one of batman's impossible standards in his ever growing list of tasks and random skills to have.

it's during one of those instances that he gets his first phone call from the kid.

pretty soon after that hal gets some nice company. nodding, humming, and murming along as the kid describes his day. it's surprsingly...average. yet hal is surprised with how avidly he listens.

until one day there's a strange hitch in the kids breath. it takes a while to get out of him but when he learns hal has to stop himself from flying down and hunting down a few snot nosed punks who thought it'd be funny to pin down a kid half their weight and "joke" about making him suck them all off because they heard he liked boys.

oh hal knows that level of douchery anywhere. hal had never had to deal with that as a kid because he'd been tall and broad and hot shit.

but tim...was small even for a robin.

kids like tim were easy pickings.

so hal gives some (probably bad) advice.

tim gets suspended but he's so happy over the phone hal's grin doesn't die down for the rest of the day.

maybe hal's a denser guy than he thought

because he doesn't figure out why tim starts looking at him with a sparkle in his eye and an awestruck look when ever he sees him. at first he thought the kid viewed him as a sort of cool older brother?

maybe that's what the hugs were for. because Hal was just an all in all swell guy.

the kid asks hal weird questions like his favorite star trek character, his body mass index, whether he knows how to throw a football and if he'd teach tim.

when hal returns from space he finds a handmade -welcome back!- card and a goody bag.

tim asks hal to teach him how to pilot the Justice League fighter jets and hal nearly sheds a tear.

he doesn't notice when other heroes shift from saying 'hey robin is here for you' to 'hey your kid is in the mess hall'

hal gets the kid involved in some hare brained schemes.

the two of them are curled in pain when hal stupidly challenges barry to a hot dog eating contest and drags the kid into it.

its not all bad though.

tim saves his butt when hal accidentally deletes some very important files and he's left sweating and pacing while tim retrieves them.

'shit I majorly owe you one!'

hal does mean it but he's surprised the kid cashes it in so quickly. and for something so simple.

hal has a great time at the ball park with the kid watching the knights get their asses whopped. no wonder tickets had been so cheap.

maybe hal is a blockhead but it takes him finding the father's day card and flowers at his station while other leaguers are whispering and giggling to realize that he's adopted a child.

batman's station has a similar set up but the card is store bought and the flowers aren't as vibrant.

he's also glaring a hole into his monitor.

meanwhile hal is staring dumbly at the set up and wondering what the hell about him the kid thinks is "dad matierial".

[maria021015]

Stiles's eyelids felt heavy as he struggled to regain consciousness, his head throbbing with a relentless ache. With a groan, he slowly blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings as the haze of unconsciousness began to lift. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the basement, he found he was bound to an old chair, his wrists and ankles tightly secured with rough rope. Panic surged through him as he fought against his restraints, his heart pounding with fear. His head whipped around, neck craning in every direction in desperation to find the brunette girl with the hazel eyes, to no avail.

"Zaida?" His voice was hoarse as he called out, his eyes darting around the shadowy space. "Zay, where are you? Are you okay?"

There was no response, only the echo of his own desperate cries bouncing off the walls. Stiles's chest tightened with dread as he strained to find any sign of her. Instead, his eyes landed on the shadowy outline of a figure standing in the dark corner, watching him. The goosebumps that rippled across his skin told him that he wasn’t alone. Not in the basement, and certainly not in his own head. He knew the feeling of that harrowing presence prickling at the back of his neck. His time had run out. The Nogitsune was back.

"Where is she?" Stiles's voice wavered with a mixture of anger and fear, his mind fixated on the missing girl. Was she still here somewhere, unconscious? Was she hurt? Was she… dead? “What did you do to her?!”

Stiles's heart hammered in his chest as he awaited an answer, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The figure chuckled darkly in amusement, and it was not the deep, raspy sound he’d expected. Instead, it was lilting - hauntingly so - as it reverberated off the smooth stone walls. The figure shrouded in darkness stepped forward into the dim moonlight, and Zaida’s tear-streaked face smiled back at him. But the look in her hollow eyes sent a chill down Stiles's spine, a depth of pain lurking within that he couldn't quite comprehend.

"Nothing compared to what he’s about to do," She whispered an answer to his question, her voice chillingly calm and devoid of emotion. His words caught in his throat as she lifted a large mechanical drill, positioning the sharp and rusted bit over her temple.

“Wha-What are you doing?” His heart faltering, he stuttered, mind struggling to comprehend what he was looking at until a shuffling of feet scraped against the ground. The sound called his attention to another presence slowly moving from behind him until it crept into his peripheral vision. The bandaged man jittered unnaturally as he moved, and Stiles’ muscles stiffened in response. His fear swiftly gave way to anger, his voice raising shakily. “You did this. You got into her head!”

“Every Dracula needs a Renfield, Stiles.” The Nogitsune hummed, tilting his head as he shifted his focus to Zaida. Loosening a trembling breath from her lips, her finger tightened over the power switch, and the drill roared to life. The whirring of metal filled Stiles’ ears like a deafening symphony, striking terror into his chest. Her eyes locked onto his, and it was as though he was staring through a mask at the girl pleading with him to help her.

But Zaida wasn’t trying to ask for help. Zaida wanted release. She wanted nothing more than to drive that drill into her own skull and end all of it. She craved the sweet release of death - an abrupt end to this cruel mortal coil. If Stiles let her die, maybe the Nogitsune taking over her head and puppeteering her body would die with her. Maybe it would end this whole mess once and for all. Maybe the rest of them would be safe. The Nogitsune wasn’t even bothering with consuming the entirety of her emotions anymore - he had no reason to now that he was strong enough to control her without her permission. She was a hostage within her own mind, and so she felt everything. Visceral guilt ripped through her heart relentlessly as she watched the boy she cared about fight to get to her.

“No, no, no…” Stiles shook his head. The words were like a chant as he tugged at the ropes bound around his limbs in a struggle to escape. “No, Zaida! Stop it! Zaida! Turn it off!”

“You know what trepanation is, Stiles,” The words coming out of her mouth were barely her own. She had just enough influence left to twist the Nogitsune’s intended message and attempt to hide her own for Stiles to decipher. “But do you know it’s history? Ancient civilisations spanning from Mesopotamia to Mesoamerica as early as six thousand BC believed that drilling or cutting holes into the skull would release evil spirits trapped within. Most people assume these procedures were forced unto others whose conditions could not be explained as anything other than possession, but I believe that some of them wanted it - a desperate attempt at freeing themselves from the torment within their own minds.”

“Zaida, please, just…Just put down the drill,” Stiles begged her, shaking his head as tears spilled from his thick lashes, still fighting against his restraints. The naiad only inched the machine closer towards her skin. When it became clear that she would not listen to him, he turned to the Nogitsune. “Stop it! Don’t make her do this! Make her stop !”

“I have an evil spirit in my head, Stiles,” Zaida admitted softly, her voice empty with resignation. Trapped within her own body, she prayed that the boy would understand her hidden message. “And it wants to be free.”

"I can't let you do this," Stiles whispered his pleas, his voice barely above a breath. "Please, Zay, don't do this."

“You know what you have to do, Stiles.” The Nogitsune hissed, taunting him with the only solution available to him at that moment. He knew to save Zaida he needed to give in, but he also knew how many people would be hurt if he did so.

“Zay, no!” He sobbed, despair claiming his heart as he racked his brains for any other alternative.

But Zaida's resolve remained unyielding, her eyes betraying a sorrow he couldn't bear to see. As his chest clenched painfully in anguish, he watched her drive the revolving tip of the drill into her flesh. She did not cry out in pain as crimson dripped down the side of her face. She simply closed her eyes and gave in, and so did Stiles. As he surrendered to the consuming darkness, he felt himself slipping away, lost to the void that awaited him.

“I take it Allison was correct in her assumption?” Deaton eyed the small scroll that Scott placed atop the metal bench in the back room of the animal clinic.

“It was inside Katashi’s finger, just like she thought,” Scott confirmed with a nod, tense with anticipation as the vet unravelled the parchment and inspected its contents.

“There isn't much here, unfortunately…” The man tilted his head at the tiny length of paper and Scott’s heart sank. To think about what they had all gone through to get that scroll…

“Does it say anything ?” The werewolf looked at Deaton with wide, hopeful eyes.

“My Japanese isn't great…” Deaton explained, his eyes scanning the symbols in black ink once more. “But, it appears to say that one method of expelling a Nogitsune is to change the body of the host.”

“Change the body?” Scott repeated in slight disbelief, his brows scrunching in confusion.

“Which begs the question…” Deaton trailed off, looking at Scott expectantly. “How do we change Stiles' body?”

“...By turning him into a werewolf.” Scott landed on the only solution, his stomach writhing with nervousness.

He knew Stiles had been offered the bite once before by Peter, and he had rejected it. It had clearly never been something he had wanted. But when offered it again when faced with a possible frontotemporal dementia diagnosis, he had agreed. Giving Stiles the bite was something Scott had been prepared to do, but that was when the boy himself had given permission. Stiles wasn’t exactly in a state where he could consent right now. It left Scott with a dilemma, wondering if biting Stiles without his permission was the right thing to do.

“Coming in on a Saturday? That's dedication.” Void drawled as he walked leisurely into the history classroom, Zaida not far behind him. Her body was moving against her will, arms crossing and hip jutting out as she watched the Nogitsune rifle through the contents of Mr Yukimura’s bookshelf in Stiles’ form. “Where is she hiding them?”

“I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about…” The teacher responded calmly, playing dumb in the hopes that they would leave.

“Her little knives. Daggers. I know what they are: a physical representation of her tails...however, the hell that works…” Void continued knocking over books, searching through the pages before discarding them.

“Maybe you'd like to do some reading on it?” The man insisted upon being entirely unhelpful, and Zaida felt the Nogitsune controlling her burn with frustration. “I can direct you to the section on Japanese myth in the library.”

“No, we want to talk to you.” Zaida flashed a toothy grin at the man. “And maybe if you stop playing at being an ignorant teacher, we’ll let you live.”

“The older the tail, the stronger the Oni...Am I right?” Void continued, walking slowly towards Kira’s father. “I know there's one left. I know it's the strongest.”

“Unfortunately, I don't know what you're referring to…” Mr Yukimura’s voice shook slightly, maintaining his act of innocence. Unfortunately for him, the Nogitsune did not need his permission. The Nogitsune didn’t need anyone’s permission anymore. Zaida edged around the desk, leaning against the structure as her hazel eyes locked onto the teacher, waiting for Void’s signal. Her own screams echoed in her own head as she begged herself to stop, but it was no use.

“You'll talk...They always talk.” Void tilted Stiles’ head at the teacher as he reached towards a textbook on the desk, lifting it to reveal a darting black insect. As he did so, Zaida gripped Ken Yukimura by his hair, pulling his head back and prying open his locked jaw with the other hand as the buzzing fly rushed into his open mouth.

“What is it? You’ve got this look like everything's gone wrong,” Kira questioned as she let Scott into her room.

“Everything is going wrong. The Sheriff got a call from Eichen House,” Scott began to explain the reasoning behind his deep-set frown. “Stiles and Zaida have both escaped. I think it’s safe to say that the lichen and fennel wore off. The Nogitsune is back on the playing field. And there’s more…One of the orderlies found this on the ground in the basement.”

Kira took the item from the werewolf’s outstretched hands, glancing at it to find what looked like her own face staring straight back at her in an old photograph. “This looks just like me. This has to be my grandmother,” She whispered in surprise.

“You remember, I told you about Malia? She's the last one who saw Stiles and Zaida at Eichen House. This picture, and this…” Scott pulled an old Katana in a scabbard from inside his jacket, offering it to her as well. “They found it with a body buried in a wall. The same backwards five that the Oni put on us was on the wall. It sounds like it all goes back to your family - your grandmother, your mom…”

Before they could ruminate on the items any further, Kira’s phone buzzed with a notification. She pulled it from her own pocket only for her face to fall as she read the message on her lit-up screen. “What is it?” Scott questioned as the girl’s chemosignals alerted him to her panic.

“My dad. Stiles and Zaida showed up at the school.” She answered with a thick swallow as several more buzzes followed the original message. “My mom needs me to bring something.”

After retrieving a small vile from her parent’s room, both Kira and Scott were out of her house and on his dirt bike within minutes, speeding through the streets of suburban Beacon Hills until they pulled into the school parking lot. The tyres screeched as they came to a sudden stop, and neither of them bothered to make sure it was parked properly before sprinting into the school building. They hurried down the winding corridor, taking a sharp right into their history classroom to find Kira’s parents huddled on the floor. Her father was choking loudly as her mother tried to comfort him, immediately reaching for the vile she’d requested upon catching sight of Kira.

“Kira, did you bring it?” Noshiko asked with an outstretched hand as her husband clutched at his throat.

“You going to tell me what ‘it’ is?” Kira challenged but handed the small glass bottle over regardless, kneeling on the cold tiled floor.

“Reishi,” The older woman answered concisely and untwisted the metal cap before pouring its contents into her husband’s mouth.

“You're not seriously giving Dad magic mushrooms?” Kira gaped at her parents, but the substance seemed to work as Ken’s spluttering and coughs became fewer and further in between.

“Are you okay?” Noshiko asked her husband tenderly, and he nodded as the redness in his face faded back to his usual colour. Slowly she helped him to his feet.

“Stiles and Zaida did this?” Scott asked, watching the man with concerned eyes.

“He wanted the last kaiken.” Noshiko nodded in confirmation of the werewolf’s question and pulled a black blade from her pocket, holding it up for them to see. “I've kept this near me ever since your friend disappeared.”

“Mom, you need to talk to us - about everything.” Kira handed her mother the image that Scott had given her in her room earlier and Noshiko’s face paled.

“Where did you get this?” The woman asked in disbelief, staring at the image with a recognition that told them she knew exactly what it was.

“Is it Grandma?” Kira prompted, her brows lifting in curiosity.

“No…” Noshiko shook her head. “It's me.”

“You…You can’t be that old!” Scott blurted, his lips parted as he stared at the woman. Kira shot him a surprised expression, and he quickly backtracked. “I just mean…If that's you, then you'd have to be, like, ninety years old…”

“Closer to nine hundred,” Noshiko’s lips pulled tight in slight amusement as the two teens stared at her, shock written on their faces.

“Okay. Sure. Why not?” Kira sighed, evidently slightly overwhelmed by the new information facing them. She turned to her father - who had now recovered and was leaning against his desk. “Dad, how old are you?”

“Forty-three. But, I've been told I look mid-thirties…” The man smiled innocently, unaffected by the news which he was clearly already aware of.

“What about this?” Kira handed the broken sword that had been found at Eichen House to her mother as well. Noshiko held out before her over the desk, pulling the handle free of its sheath only to reveal the blade had been snapped off close to the hilt. Tilting the scabbard, multiple lengths of metal clattered to the desk.

“The blade shattered the last time it was used,” Noshiko explained, running her fingers over the scabbard lovingly.

“When was that?” The kitsune questioned, hoping to glean more than one piece of information at a time. It was clear that her parents knew a lot more about what was going on in Beacon Hills than either of them had previously let on.

"Nineteen forty-three…against a Nogitsune.” The woman admitted unflinchingly.

“All this - it's all happened before, hasn't it?” Scott realised, recognising the familiarity behind Noshiko’s eyes.

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." Mr Yukimura quoted George Santayana, confirming the werewolf’s suspicions.

“Where did it come from?” Kira pushed her mother to reveal more to them. Trying to pry the information out of her felt like pulling teeth and it was becoming frustrating.

“It was an internment camp during World War II...In Oak Creek, not far from here.” Noshiko added the last part, almost like an afterthought. As though she was debating how much to tell them.

“Hold on - you told Allison and Isaac that there was no internment camp at Oak Creek.” Scott glanced at Mr Yukimura challengingly.

“Allison's family has a certain history of violence. I didn't know if she could be trusted.” Ken explained his intentions behind withholding the information. “There was a camp, yes...But all the records were erased.”

“They covered it up,” Noshiko rephrased her husband's words with a harsh expression.

“When I was a grad student, my passion project - actually more like an obsession - was trying to dig up the truth on Oak Creek.” Mr Yukimura elaborated. “It's how I met your mother, Kira.”

“So, where did the Nogitsune come from?” Kira looked once again to her mother for answers.

“Isn't it obvious, yet? It came from me.” The woman hissed, pain behind her dark eyes. Scott’s pulse leapt with surprise. As did Kira’s while her mother attempted to reassemble the katana out of the broken pieces on the desk. “Kira, I need your help on this. There isn't much time, and this is something that needs to be done in the daylight.”

“Not until you tell us everything.” The kitsune refused stubbornly.

“Tell them, Noshiko - tell them what they need to know.” Ken urged his wife in a soft plea, and she appeared to contemplate it for a moment.

“Foxes and Wolves tend not to get along, and not just in fables and stories,” Noshiko noted, eyeing Scott warily.

“But allies, however unlikely, should be welcomed - especially in times of war.” Ken shot his wife a pointed look, and finally, she yielded.

“I was one of the prisoners kept at Oak Creek. I would steal from the American soldiers - food, and medical supplies. An older woman there, Satomi, she disapproved of me - thought I was reckless and stupid. I wouldn’t know until much later how right she was.” Noshiko mused bitterly. “The soldiers were cruel. They treated us like animals, took what they wanted from us, policed us with fear…All except one. Rhys was different. He didn’t touch the women like Merrick, or taunt us with the threat of inspections like Hayes. Rhys was kind, and gentle, and he loved me.”

“Okay, stop. Just stop!” Kira wrinkled her nose as she interrupted, her words prickly with irritation. “We don't want to hear your Casablanca story - we wanna know how to save Stiles and Zaida!”

“I'm trying to tell you-” Noshiko defended, but Scott saw straight through her ruse.

“You're trying to stall.” He called her out on her lie. “When the sun goes down, the Oni are gonna come after them, aren't they?”

“Your friends are gone, Scott,” Noshiko stated stubbornly.

“I don't think you know that for sure.” Scott rebutted, not changing his stance. They’d come this far to get Stiles and Zaida back, and he wasn’t about to stop now. “You brought the Oni - can you call them off?”

“Stiles may be your best friend...He might be like a brother to you, and Zaida like a sister...But Stiles is Nogitsune now. He is void, and the naiad remains controlled through him. There is no saving her unless he is dead.” Noshiko explained, purposefully ignoring the werewolf’s question.

“Can you call them off?” Scott locked his jaw, repeating himself forcefully at a louder volume.

”When you hear the rest of the story, you won't want me to.” She assured him. “Rhys and I found ways to see each other. Sometimes at the barracks...sometimes in the bunkers where they parked military vehicles. He was being transferred to North Africa in a few weeks. I was teaching him some French...We watched Merrick and Hayes talking with the camp doctor. They were whispering, talking quickly and exchanging money…”

Without warning, Noshiko reached for one of the still-sharp shards of metal scattered over the desktop. “Noshiko,” Ken warned her, but she did not listen and instead squeezed it in her fist tightly until it drew blood.

“Mom, what are you doing?” Kira gasped, however, when Noshiko opened her fist and allowed the metal to fall once more among its brethren, her palm was fully healed. “How did you do that?”

“It's one of our talents - something you'll learn, Kira. You should've noticed by now that you never get sick. Ever. You'll never experience something as simple as a common cold. Something as bad as the flu. Or something like…pneumonia.” The older kitsune continued her tale. “Soon enough, everyone in camp was sick, and the medicine used to treat it had run out. Only, I knew we had more. I’d seen it when I stole supplies off the truck. Rhys checked his log...But, we already knew what was happening. Dr. Liston was using Merrick and Hayes to sell medicine on the black market. When I told the others, chaos broke out. I had realized the mistake I had made by speaking too soon. I wasn't helping anyone - I was inciting a riot. I yelled for them to stop. But so many people were sick...and so many were dying…The last person who I expected to lash out attacked the soldiers - Satomi. I'd never seen anger like that. It was a living, breathing thing. Now I knew why Satomi was always trying to keep quiet. Why she got migraines once a month, and why she was always at the game of Go - it kept her calm.”

“She was bitten,” Scott deduced, stunned with his mouth gaping open.

“Bitten werewolves have a harder time suppressing their anger. One unexpected flare-up, and they could lose all control.” Noshiko’s voice lowered grimly, thick with emotion. “The gunfire nearly killed me. I don't know how many bullets made their way into my body, but I fought every one of them...It left my body so weak, my heartbeat so slow, it appeared as though I was dead. But, even then, I was still better off than Rhys. He’d been burned nearly to death. His screams could be heard throughout Eichen House - echoing through every room, every hallway…He died in agony - the doctor, it seems, had also sold the morphine.”

“Eichen House?” Scott interrupted, surprised to hear the place mentioned. He recalled how Lydia had led them to the basement of the facility when looking for Stiles and wondered if this might somehow explain why. If the bandaged body behind the wall was Rhys.

“Eichen House acted as Oak Creek’s hospital facilities at the time,” Ken answered the werewolf’s question.

“What happened after the riot?” Kira prompted her mother to keep going with her story, despite the obvious pain etched into the older kitsune’s features.

“Merrick and Hayes were given the task of getting rid of all the bodies, both American and Japanese-American. They were transferring Dr. Liston out as well, stationing him somewhere else. They were covering it up - the doctor, Merrick, Hayes, and all of the others. They were gonna get away with murder!” Noshiko exclaimed, still outraged by what she had endured. “By chance, I guess, Rhys' body had been put next to mine. I wanted the soldiers and the administration of the camp to be punished for their crimes. But, I knew the clock was ticking. I was going to lose my chance. They were going to burn me with the others. I couldn't fight back with my body weakened and still healing. I could barely move. I was going to die. With time slipping through my fingers, I knew I was making a terrible decision. But, I could not die knowing that they would get away...So, I called out to our ancestors for kitsune-tsuki, possession by a Fox spirit... For a powerful Nogitsune, one that feeds off chaos, strife, and pain, to take control of my weakened body, imbue it with power and use it as a weapon. But, calling on a trickster is a dangerous thing - they can have a very dark sense of humour. Because, while the Nogitsune did come to possess someone, it wasn’t me.”

“What happened?” Scott’s brows furrowed solemnly, feeling a pang of sympathy for what the woman had gone through. What was happening now to Stiles had happened to Rhys. Only it hadn’t been Scott’s fault, but it had been Noshiko’s.

“My body was beginning to heal, and I managed to pull myself up from the ground. But, it was too late…” The woman’s voice broke.

“What did it do?” Scott’s tone softened at sensing her pain.

“It brought chaos, strife, and more pain than you can imagine...It slaughtered everyone in its path.” Noshiko shook her head. “I had to find him. I had to stop him. Satomi helped me drive my katana through his heart”

Silence fell over them all as they digested the tale of history, and Noshiko was the first to break it, casting her eyes out towards the setting sun outside. “Kira, hurry. Night is coming,” She urged her daughter over to the desk, staring at the broken sword that had ended her lover’s cursed life. “Coup de foudre. The literal translation is ‘a bolt of lightning’. In French, it can also mean, ‘love at first sight’, but, a bolt of lightning happens to be exactly what we need right now.”

“For what?” The young kitsune asked as her mother reorganised the pieces like solving a jigsaw puzzle.

“Excising the Nogitsune from Rhys' body shattered the katana...But you can put it back together.” Noshiko explained.

“Why don't you just do it yourself?” Kira wondered aloud, unsure of how she would even accomplish such a task.

“Because I'm not a Thunder Kitsune.” Her mother’s lips pulled into a tight smile. “Do you trust me?”

“I just found out you're nine hundred years old - I don't think I'm ever gonna trust you again.” Kira huffed, making a poor attempt at a joke.

“Trust me on this,” Noshiko took Kira’s hand and led it to hover over the broken blade. With a nod, she encouraged the young kitsune to unleash her powers along its length.

Kira wasn’t certain exactly what she was doing, but she felt a pull of energy from herself to the weapon, and simply allowed it to flow. Before she knew it, sparks were zapping before her eyes and lightning poured from her hands into the metal. When she was done and the light faded, the sword looked as good as new.