#I HATE HOW THEY CAME TO THE SAME CONCLUSION

[luvrxbunny]

gullible

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Breeding

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, a lot of body descriptions, reader is on the curvier side, some grinding/dry humping, male masturbation (barely), ovulation, piv, unprotected sex (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 4.7k

A/N: lets say spider society is funded by the most rish spider-people and thats what the dinner was for. also this is long asf- i blacked out im so sorry 

It’s a formality. This whole dinner party. It’s something Miguel gets invited to every year and every year he dreads going to it, having to play posh in order to get some extra funding from the higher-ups. Although, he doesn’t mind too much this year because he’s bringing you. 

He’s fidgeting, and complaining about his collar when you come out of the bathroom, you’re asking him if you look okay and he knows his answer before he looks at you. He knows you look good, he tells you so before turning to you and only reassures you upon gazing at the outfit. 

This dress is new, and you’re worried your tummy might be too big for it so you’ve thrown a coat over to hide it. Miguel knows what the coat is really for but doesn't mention it, not wanting to risk making you so uncomfortable you change out of everything. He compliments your new perfume instead, winning a confused smile from you. You’re fidgeting with the coat on the ride to the venue, saying that it’s itchy and you’re getting too warm. He suggests you take it off but you gently refuse and stop complaining. 

He gets dragged away from you the moment he walks through the door. He hates leaving you alone at these things, he knows you don’t socialize well and he knows the men here want a taste of you. He’s anxious to get back to you for the entire hour these deep pockets talk his ear off. He hasn’t been listening, he’s thinking about you. He’s almost overwhelmed at the love he has for you, he’s never felt this way before. He’s missing you even though you guys are in the same place, even though he’s only been away from you for an hour. He can’t get out of there fast enough, shoving the doors of the conference room open and searching for you immediately. 

When his eyes find you, they find that you’ve already taken your jacket off and you’re socializing with an entire group of people. They’re conversing with you comfortably. You bring a smile to his face as you laugh at someone’s joke. His eyes rake over your body, finally taking in your true outfit. 

It has him stiffening in his pants. You’re wearing a dark red pencil dress, the same color as his suit. It hugs your curves perfectly, doing justice to your plush thighs, your ass and showcasing the curve of your back. His favorite part though, is the way it hugs your front. Your boobs look great, sure, but it’s emphasizing the little pooch that sits at the bottom of your stomach. 

You hate it, saying it makes you look fat, that you wish you could get rid of it… but in Miguel’s eyes? It’s just proof you’re the perfect woman to mother his children. He came to this conclusion before he even knew about your tummy. He had seen your wide hips, your care toward others, how good you are with children, and decided he wanted you. 

Once he got you to date him, to fall in love with him, he found out about your little belly fat. You’d been sucking it in as much as you could whenever you were around him, sometimes wearing higher pants than necessary in hopes of the jeans pushing your stomach down. It broke his heart to hear you so insecure but there was also a little flame igniting in his stomach. 

The flame never left. He didn’t tell you about it, but every time he noticed your belly pushing against your tank top, or a tight shirt, whenever he felt your soft tummy on his hard stomach- through the t-shirt you insist on wearing while he fucked you- the fire raged brighter. He added it to the list of reasons you’d be an amazing child-bearer. He’s obsessed with the protective fat over your womb. 

He watches you cover your stomach with your arm as you laugh, not even realizing you’re trying to hide his favorite part of you. He’s walking over to you before he plans out what he’ll say. He just stands beside you, inhaling your sweet perfume, and waiting for you to feel his presence, it doesn't take long. You turn to him with a surprised smile and give him an excited hug. “Miguel!”

His heart expands at your excitement upon his arrival, he wraps an arm around your waist and presses you against him. Your voice is muffled as you speak to him. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” He’s not listening though. 

To any outsider, it looked like Miguel just really missed you, when in reality, he was making sure you could feel what you do to him. You let out a pretty sigh into his ear once you feel his bulge press into you. Your eyes are on his as you pull away, searching them for a reason as to why he’s hard but all he’s too busy taking in every piece of you. 

You’re both lost in your own world, you don’t realize the people you were talking to have moved on from your conversation, talking with some other people now and leaving you and Miguel to your moment. 

His hands are resting on your hips before one slides behind you, pressing his open palm against the small of your back before the other presses against your lower stomach, right over your uterus. Miguel can feel your stomach tense under his hand as you suck in, tightening your muscles but Miguel just tuts and tilts his head at you, disappointed. “Don’t do that, cariño. I love her.” Your gaze is on the floor as you listen to him, he sounds drunk, his voice is distant and hazy. 

His head is cloudy with fantasies. He can see your stomach, how it would grow and swell as you create his child inside you. He thinks about how beautiful you would look with your womb stuffed full of him. He swears she’s calling for him- your womb- begging him to fill her up, paint your walls white until his seed takes, maybe a little more after that just to be safe. 

You can see his thoughts racing, you can tell he’s working himself up, you just don’t understand what is doing this to him. His hand on your stomach is making you a bit self-conscious, but your muscles have been too tight for too long, and they give out. Your soft tummy relaxes and presses into his hand, pulling a relieved sigh from Miguel. His breathing picks up and his eyebrows furrow before he looks up from your stomach, looking into your eyes instead. “You know I love this, right?”

He looks back down at your belly as he readjusts his palm, opening his hand wider to cover more of your pooch. You whine and shift uncomfortably, the way his hand is resting over your womb is hot, it’s turning you on but you’re barely aware of that fact because anxiety is overrunning everything. You’re waiting for Miguel to slip up, for you to see a crack in his lies. You appreciate the attempt at making you feel better about your body but you don’t- you can’t believe him. 

Until you look up into his eyes. 

They’re drowning in need, his pupils entirely blown out, covering most of the red in his eyes. He’s gazing at you as he slowly pulls you in and presses his plump lips against yours with a moan. You pull away quickly and look around, a few people looking your way at Miguel’s louder-than-safe moan. You look back up at him to warn him, tell him to keep it down but the words die on your tongue. His eyes are hazy and confused, still looking at your lips like he can’t figure out why you pulled away. You smile at him incredulously and pull his hand away from your back but he whimpers when you try and take his hand off your womb. 

“Miguel, we’re public, baby.” Your voice is soft yet frantic, and his eyes are still begging you. “People are staring…” That gets a reaction, his face twitches and his eyes clear and harden a bit. He looks around the room with a snarl and you have to pull his gaze back to you. 

“Hey! What’s gotten into you?” The question hurts him a bit as he thinks it over, he really is trying to pinpoint why this is affecting him so much.  All he can focus on is you though, your scent enveloping him like a cloud. It smells like everything good, like flowers and honey, but also clean like soap and linen. It’s suffocating him, stopping all thought. 

“You smell so good, amor. What is that? I don’t recordar buying este para ti.” His voice is muffled as he buries his face in the top of your head, looking for the source of your scent. You’ve had enough, he’s doing all of this in the middle of the party, and you’re starting to feel a bit embarrassed. You’re pushing him back, slowly walking him to the edges of the party. You feel people staring until you finally hit a wall, pushing a grunt from Miguel. “What is up with you?” Your tone is gentle but you’re getting concerned, you’ve never seen him like this.

His eyes are shut tightly as his brows furrow and he lets out a pathetic whimper. “I’m sorry. I- I don’t know.” His hand leaves your stomach to bury in his hair and you instantly miss its warmth. You take a step closer to him, waiting for him to say more. “Can we leave? I think we’ve been here long enough, yeah?” He’s already pulling your hand to the exit. 

He’s silent in the car and on the drive home, constantly running his hand through his hair, and bouncing the leg that isn't on a pedal. You’re taking in his frantic state and notice that through all this, he’s still hard. “Miguel…” He gasps softly and turns to you for a moment. “What’s wrong?

“I don’t-” His eyes dart to your form. “ Your dress for one.” You glance down and wish you hadn’t, you see your stomach split into rolls, folding the fabric of your dress, accentuating the it’s softness. Your arms cross over it, trying to hide and Miguel groans.

“Don’t do that, I told you.” His voice sounds painful and strained. You look back at him to see a distressed look on his face and his hand palming his throbbing cock through his suit pants. “I fucking love her.” His breathing gets heavy, causing him to inhale more of your painfully sweet perfume. “What the fuck is that smell, baby?” 

You can hear him take a big inhale of the air in the car and a shiver runs up his spine. “I’m…” You struggle to round up enough thoughts to answer him, too distracted by the way he crushes his dick against his thigh and the little moans that accompany his movements.  “I’m not wearing perfume, Miguel.”

That's when it hits him. Why he’s so desperate for you, why your scent is clouding his every thought and taking over his mind… You’re ovulating. 

A broken groan rips from his throat at the realization, he speeds the rest of the way home. When you guys finally arrive he parks in the driveway and unlocks the doors, but doesn’t move. “I need you to get out, bonita.”

You feel arousal settle in your stomach as you press your legs together. Miguel’s head falls back, and his hair falls with his head, revealing his red-tipped ears. His hips are still gently thrusting into his hand, the other is squeezing the wheel so hard you thought it might crack. “I- I need a moment, baby. I’ll explain everything, just go inside and-” He lets out a breathless curse and his hips stutter against his palm. “And go change and just- just wait for me, okay? I’ll be there in a moment, go.” You’re in a trance as he speaks but the force in his command shakes you out of it. 

You leave the car silently and make your way to his place. You change out of your clothes in a daze, putting on a tank top and one of his sweatpants as you try to process what just happened. You grab a blanket and wait for Miguel on the couch. 

It’s only a few minutes before you hear his footsteps approaching the door. You stand in front of the doorway, oddly nervous as you watch the knob turn. His eyes meet yours the moment the door opens, his eyes stay on yours as he ducks through the frame, and takes his shoes off. They only tear from yours to take in your new outfit, your lower belly is the first place his eyes land. He gets that weak look in his eye you’ve been seeing all night and his breathing picks up.

Miguel notices the way your stomach sucks in for a moment before relaxing, letting your body be as she is and it making him feral. He needs you so bad, he wants to just take you right here but he promised you an explanation. His eyes flicker up to you and he takes a shaky deep breath and tries to keep his voice steady. “Have a seat, hermosa.”

He looks nervous, he keeps wiping his hands on his suit pants as you walk over to sit on the couch, he seats himself at the other end, across from you. You’re turned to him, legs crossed and laying in his lap. He turns to face you more and accidentally places your legs over his bulge, you can feel his thighs tense as he folds in half, letting out a choked moan that he tries to cover as a cough. You let him think he got away with it, he leaves your legs over his bulge, giving him enough stimulation to think straight. 

You’re looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain and he decides to just rip the band-aid off. “You’re-” Arousal stabs in his stomach at the sentence he has to utter. He bites into his lip and tries to regulate his breathing. “You’re o- ovulating.” Your legs shift in his lap as your expression falls, embarrassed. “And I can smell it.” 

Your legs pull out of his lap quickly and you bring your knees to your chest. “What?!” You sit up and tuck your legs under you, sitting on your calves. “You can smell it? I’m- God that’s so- I’m so sorry.”

His mind is getting hazy again without your contact. “No. Cariño, not that. It’s not like that.” He sighs at your confusion, he wishes you understood how desperate he was, maybe then you wouldn’t ask him to talk so much, maybe you’d just let him fuck you already. “It’s more like pheromones.”

His hand slides across the couch cushion, wraps around your ankle and slowly drags you toward him. “It’s a change in your personal scent. Your body is trying to trick mine into breeding you, and guess what?” He’s pulled you straight and is crawling up your body, slowly lowering himself against you so his bulge is pressing against your pussy, right over your clit.

 He’s so hard he’s able to split your lips, rubbing the cloth of his sweatpants against your naked pussy and you gasp at the feeling. Your hands slide up from his biceps to pull his head in, anxiously awaiting the rest of his sentence. He smirks at the eager look on your face and leans in, just inches from your lips, and whispers against them. “My body is so gullible for you.” You whimper.

You can feel your entire being heating up as he kisses you so intensely, like he’s trying to devour you. He’s groaning against your lips and licking into your mouth as he wrestles his jacket off. Your hands shoot to his belt and struggle to get it off, whining into the kiss when his belt gets caught on the loops. He smiles into you and his hands come to rest over yours. “Tranquila, bebe. I’m the desperate one, remember?”

You shake your head his words and let him take his pants off while you wiggle out of his sweats. He moans at your bare pussy and his arms give out for a moment, almost dropping his weight on you before catching himself. “N-no panties?” His fingers are on you, rubbing your clit and spreading your slick all over you, coating his fingers in it. He’s being downright messy.

“Miggy- Miguel, I need it so bad- need you so bad. I love you so much. You’re so-” Your mind is already gone as you grind up into his fingers, overwhelmed by the added pleasure of his desperation. He’s groaning into your ear as he humps himself against your thigh in time with his fingers. 

“I don’t know. I need-” You cut him off with a moan and he smiles as you apologize in between whimpers. “I think I’d need to cum in you, cariño. I need- My brain can only focus on-” He groans as you writhe against him, pushing your thigh into his crotch. His head lowers to rest against yours as his fingers speed up inside you. He can feel the way you’re coating them, soaking every crevice with your sweetness. He can feel the way they’re sliding inside you, the way your walls are squeezing him, it’s too much. “I can only think about cumming in you, bebe.” 

Truthfully, his thoughts were more focused on what would come afterward, watching you swell with his child but you guys haven’t even had a conversation about kids yet.

“No.” You whine at him, he feels sadness shoot through his stomach but he tries to mask it. “Just fuck me, please?” You’re looking up at him with puppy dog eyes, your hands around his neck pulling his face impossibly closer as your lips try and lock with his. He nods at you gently, he wants to give you anything you could possibly want.

“Okay, amor.” He kisses you quickly before taking his hands off of you and starts unzipping his pants, pulling himself out of his boxers while you wait. You watch him for a bit as he gets undressed before a thought pushes into your head.

What if I took my top off this time? 

You think it over for a second, you want to be yourself with him, completely and he’s explained his love for your tummy over and over again. 

What could be the worst that happens?

Images of Miguel’s face twitching in disgust flash through your head. Unrealistic scenarios of Miguel pulling away, starting to reject your advances and your kisses plague your brain. 

He wouldn’t do that. 

You take a deep breath and bite the bullet, pulling your tank top over your head quickly and Miguel freezes, causing an abundance of discomfort on your end. You thought this was something he’d want, something he’d like, now that you’ve exposed yourself though, he’s silent. 

You try to stand strong, but your hands are twitching at your sides to cover your stomach. You pray to whatever god there may be that you somehow gain the ability to read his mind, to see his thoughts, to force him to say something… anything. 

His cock pulsing. He’s never seen you completely shirtless, despite being together for over a year. He never wanted to push you, too scared that he’d push you away. He’s seen you with no top but only with a towel over your stomach, or pants pulled over your stomach as you change. But now? Her full glory was on display, there’s a little curve underneath, separating your tummy from your pussy and he’s in love. 

His eyes are zeroed in on your naked stomach and your hands come up to cover it, legs pulling inward as you fold into yourself. He can’t have that. “Don’t” 

His voice is sharp and dark, a strong command but you don’t listen, covering your stomach fully. “It was a bad idea. I’m so uncomfortable, Mig. Can-” You let out a heartbreaking sigh. “Can you just pass me my top?” You threw it down just out of reach and your hands are occupied covering your stomach. Embarrassment is coursing through every vein.

How are we gonna move on from this? I fucking killed the shit out of the mood. Fuck. God, I hate this. 

“No.” He’s moving back toward you, climbing up your body again, ignoring the obvious confusion you’re facing. You curl in even more which just upsets him. He grabs your leg and pulls, forcing you out of your ball before pinning it under his own. ��Uh-” You let out a noise of surprise but Miguel pays it no mind as he reaches for your arms. He takes both of your wrists in his hand and pins them above your head, holding them there as he admires your tummy. 

Your heart is racing but you don’t struggle. Miguel is looking at you like to most amazing piece of art and you’d do anything- anything- for him to keep going. You feel yourself leaking between your legs as he just stares. His breathing is slow and shaky and his brows keep furrowing, like he’s having an internal battle with himself. He takes another breath and exhales through his mouth, letting his breath fan over your face before releasing your wrists and leg. 

He’s waiting for you to pull your hands back down, cover one of your most beautiful features… but you don’t. 

Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in. “Can you please, please, fuck me now?” His face twitches before he smiles, taking a deep breath as he pulls away. He kisses your chest as he slowly rises, his hand already on his cock, pumping himself gently as he aligns himself with your entrance. You’re gripping the cushions with all your strength as he works himself in. 

He’s worried. You feel insane around him, the softest thing he’s ever felt, extra wet and open for him to breed you. His mind keeps wandering back to cumming inside you, even though you said no. He’s walking the line of some dangerous thoughts. 

I am stronger than her…

He shakes the thought out of his head and focuses on you. The way you’re moaning his name like it’s the only thing you know, your hips are growing frantic as the grind up against him. “Miggy-“

“Amor.” He smiles at the moan that rips from your chest as you bury yourself in his neck. His hips speed up at the sounds of your moans right next to his ear, your breath tickling the shell of it.  

“‘M gonna- “ Miguel cuts you off with a growl and his brows furrow. He doubles down on his thrusts, bringing his hands to the small of your back, gripping you hard and fucking you into his cock. 

It’s going to take a serious amount of focus to keep his orgasm at bay until you’re done. “Go- Fuck. No, just wait, baby.” You let out a confused noise at his command. He’s never asked you to hold it before. 

“Fuck! Mi- I don’t know how!” Your sentence turns into a sob as he watches your body tense up, pulling all your muscles tight and gripping the roots of his hair. “Haah- Miguel. Baby, I ca- an’t. Please let-“ 

A moan stops your sentence as Miguel presses onto your womb, forcing his cock against your walls, stretching you even more. You feel so full you don’t know what’s happening. Your eyes are wide as you stare at his hand, slowly looking up to meet his eyes. They’re frantic, desperate and wild when they meet yours. 

His panting aggressively, intermittently pausing so he can try and regulate his breathing. You’re staring into his eyes, shocked at his reaction and a smirk pushes its way into your face before you moan at him again. He pulls his hand away from your womb like it burned him and pulls out, gripping the base of his cock so hard it must hurt. 

You were so close, teetering on the edge, just hearing Miguel utter your name could’ve tipped you over… but he pulled out instead. “Miguel!!! Why? I- I’ve been good, haven’t I?” 

Your desperate pleads are worsening his situation. He ignores your words and starts rubbing your clit, his fingers moving over the little bud lightning fast. “I’m not punishing you, bebé bonita”

You whine at the love name and grip his arm, trying to pull him closer to you. “No puedo correrme dentro de ti and I’m… I’m too close right now, cariño.”

You’re trying to push his hand away now, shaking your head and whining. “S’okay”

Your yanking at his arm, trying to get him back over you. “Cum inside, Miggy.” 

His eyes widen and he doesn’t move. He honestly thinks he’s hearing things at this point, fantasizing without realizing but you’re look at him all shy and expectant. So you actually said something… “W-“ He takes a deep breath. “What?”

You whine at him and avert your eyes as your legs slowly spread for him. “You- You wanted to, right? I want it…” You whine at the thought. “I need it, Miggy.”

His vision blurs as he reaches out for you, lining himself up as quickly as he can. He can already feel his balls pulsing, tensing and preparing a load for you, for your pussy, your womb. 

It’s worse than the first time he ever had sex with you. Every nerve is alight, he can feel every little detail in your pretty, perfect pussy. On top of that, you’re moaning like he’s never heard before, louder, more high pitched, more desperate than earlier and they’d already shocked him then. He can’t. 

“Mm- Not- fuck. I’m not gonna last. Not even a min- shit. Oh my god, cariño. Not even gonna last a minute. Fuck me, niña bonita.” Your almost screaming his name at his words, his languid pace and the way he’s literally shaking for you. “Gonna- shi-it.” His words sound like broken sobs as his tip gently abuses your cervix. 

You’ve pulsing around him, trying everything you can to wait for him so you can milk him while he pumps you full. “I’m gonna cum. Fuck. I’m gonna cum in- in you, baby. Voy a follarte un bebé, amor. Te dejaré embarazada, te mantendré llena de mí en todo momento. Mierda. Te verás tan hermosa, manteniendo a nuestro bebé protegido en tu grueso útero. Oh, joder"

(“I'm going to fuck a baby into you, love. I will get you pregnant, I'll keep you full of me at all times. Shit. You will look so beautiful, keeping our baby protected in your thick womb. Oh fuck.”)

Your eyes roll back and the coil in your stomach snaps as Miguel rambles, hips thrusting into yours gently, his gaze on the back of his skull. You’re fucking yourself on him as best you can in this position. It’s awkward and over-exerting but completely worth it when you hear a whine of your name and Miguel’s cock starts throbbing inside you. 

Twitching once, twice, before hardening even more and pouring a torrent of cum into your waiting pussy. He’s the loudest you’ve ever heard. Moaning out your name on repeat, thanking you for letting him cum in you with a lot of other Spanish sentences in between. 

His hand presses to your womb as he winds down but his cock twitches out another load as he pushes down, fucking into you slowly again. “Te amo tanto, mi querida. No puedo imaginar la vida sin ti. Una vida en la que no tendrás mis hijos, en la que no estemos casados…” His entire body shudders as he finally stops pouring into you. 

(“I love you so much, my dear. I can’t imagine life without you. A life where you don’t bear my children, in which we aren’t married…”)

He leans down and kisses you slowly, eyes hooded but still focused on you. Your eyes are teary and trying to shut, exhausted from the entire night. Miguel keeps pressing kisses all over you as you drift off. 

“Un mundo sin ti es uno en el que no podría vivir, amor.”

(“A world without you is one I couldn't live in, love.”)

Thank you so mcuh for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[abysswalkerastraea1]

Concurrent Resurgence

A staggering impossibility had occurred on the night of your death. And now, reborn and unhinged; bound to that creature they call the Miles County Clown, you'd witness first-hand just how far your depravity could go.

17k words

Size kink

Art is so dominant I needed an outlet to express this

A staggering impossibility had occurred on the night of your death. Just like any regular woman, you screamed and cried and ran from the miles county killer, in a state of frenzy and terror up until the very end.

Your life hung on the precipice as you lay upon the ground, torn open from the midsection and gasping on wet breaths, watching that demonic clown hunker down low, leaning over your friend Vicky as he devoured her face.

You remembered the world becoming dimmer and dimmer, wondering when you'd be devoured next, hoping to God you'd die first so that you didn't have to feel the excruciating pain Vicky had.

Your wish had been granted mercifully, the sound of police sirens and shouting fading out as you heard the final cacophony of a gunshot, and then your world turned black.

Lying as a bloodied corpse in the morgue, you didn't expect to open yours eyes ever again, life beating steadily throughout you even as something dark and heavy like lead anchored you boundlessly to miles county.

You came to the conclusion that you and Art miraculously died at the same time, yours from your injuries while his was from a gunshot to the head. You both breathed your last breath, and now you were both alive.

It was as though his dying soul had latched onto your corpse, a shard of it replenishing what should have been dead and burdening you with rot, decay and evil.

Art had tried to kill you on many occasions since then. He was pleasantly surprised at seeing you whole again, grinning and waving jovially, eager to murder you all over again, only..

You couldn't die, it was as though you were both the oxygen and the blood that keeps one another alive; if one dies, so does the other.

It took some back and forth, cat and mouse antics to learn this. He'd try and catch you, gripping you by the hair with a mallet in the other hand, bringing it down in a devastating blow. You think he realised something had changed when you caught his wrist with an incredible strength you never used to possess and forced his head through a break wall.

Art had given you something, and he cursed you because he knew he could never get it back.

You were two halves of the same coin, polar opposites and yet vastly similar now. Humanity remained within you, somewhere, but your emotions became dim, your morals deathly low, and evil began festering.

You became violent. Explosive, uncharacteristically wrathful. It didn't feel wrong, either. It felt good, and the effort it took not to absolutely maim someone was immeasurable.

Still, humanity lingered in certain things you did, and especially the way you processed emotions, even if they were as muddled as dirty water.

You and Arts lives were intertwined now, and although he had eventually gotten over the fact that he couldn't kill you, you saw him more often than you liked, your meetings often tedious and full of hate.

For the most part, him seeing you often resulted in the biggest, most dramatic eye roll you had ever witnessed, his middle finger sticking right up at you. He didn't find you fun anymore; you were as immortal as him, and that meant you were untouchable, as was he.

You don't know if it was coincidence or some sort of fucked up connection that made you cross paths so often. It made sense, considering a part of him lived within you.

And just like always, Art was there to make everything worse.

For the longest time you tried avidly to enter civilisation again, whether that be from trying to get a decent job, to going to parties and attempting to make friends, or even just simple things like getting your hair done and a manicure.

Half of you wanted your humanity to be in complete control again, enjoying the freedom of joy and life. The other half began condemning regular humans, wanting to be forcefully ostracised from society and it's confinement.

Parties didn't help. On your list of things that did help, partying was the absolute rock bottom. Your alcohol tolerance was still horrifically low, and your ire and hate for the people around you jumped tenfold.

So, all that would really happen is you'd try as politely as possible to make friends at a party, get rejected, and savagely smash their heads into nearby picture frames. Or whatever happened to decorate the wall.

You'd then drink, alone, and become devastatingly drunk. And of course each and every time, Art would find a spare minute or two to observe you once you made your horrible walk of shame home, appearing from the darkness just to point and laugh at you and buckle over.

With your newfound strength and wrath, this often led to fights with you being the instigator.

Bottle in hand, you smashed it into the clowns face viciously, watching his expression turn to one of dramatic shock as he fell backwards from the force, your drunk self falling with him.

You were so intoxicated that once you hit his body you could hardly stand back up. Head laid against his shoulder awkwardly, you groaned and tried to ground yourself with a hand against his chest, collapsing with your feeble attempts.

You winced as your face made contact with the floor all of a sudden, Art having pushed you off roughly with a grimace.

Art knew he couldn't kill you, but he could break your ribs for good measure, grinning at the sickening crack of his boot ramming into your side. It caused you to vomit and go unconscious.

You woke up the next day in broad daylight, laying in the piss stained alleyway littered with rats. Chunks of your vomit and dirt spelling out 'Whore' across your forehead.

Since then, you and Art had toned down your rivalry somewhat, no longer fighting like cat and dog every other night, viciously finding ways to carve each other up.

You avoided each other for the most part. On occasion Art would seek you out just to be an asshole, slicing your cheek with a scalpel just after you'd finished doing your makeup, which infuriated you. Or after having your hair freshly done, he'd smear questionable substances all over it.

You had gotten so angry at that, that you'd went to his rotten workplace and tore half of it down before he managed to stop you.

Art - having realised the repercussions of having an enemy that he could not kill, that would be around with him forever and that would ruin his artisan-level work - certainly toned down his pestering.

You didn't see sight of him for a month after that. Let the asshole cry and lick his wounds, you had thought joyfully.

And now, he breaks into your home like it was his own, eating from your fridge and using your shower. You detested it at the beginning, throwing fully fledged tantrums at the fact that no matter what, you could not kill him. And hurting him too badly would in turn hurt you.

It was something you came to accept. After almost a year of fighting and stubbornness, you both began to yield, realising a stalemate when you saw one.

Art no longer smeared literal shit in your hair and you no longer broke his weapons. Seemed fair.

On the two year mark, Art frequented your home even more. Probably because it had everything he needed, and it had gotten to the point that you didn't even bat an eye at him. You'd still fight, where he'd end up laughing and mocking you and you'd end up furiously screaming at him, but it never really escalated from there.

Physical confrontation did happen rarely, but nothing..drastic. That shard of him within you had made you struggle to control your anger even after two years.

And then other times you sat silently on your settee, blanket drawn up to your chin as you watched a horror film alone. Just like every night, Art would come in and ignore you, but sometimes he'd be curious as to what you were doing, and flop down beside you far too casually.

You'd spare him a neutral glance, carelessly throwing the end of your large blanket at him. He'd excitedly accept it. He viewed it as one of your ritualistic customs when watching something you deemed as scary. Him accepting the blanket meant he was curious to know just what this 'terrifying' movie was about.

"Okay so, they can't find the key to unchain themselves to escape, so that guy has to saw his leg off.", you elaborated quickly, watching the scene unfold.

It wasn't your favourite film but it was on TV at the moment. Art folded his arms, watching patiently as the story proceeded. Your attention eventually faltered as a text message came through.

You responded promptly before putting your phone down. Then, another came through, and another, and you'd giggle to yourself quietly, typing. Art lolled his head back and to the side, watchful. You never really used that device anymore, he wondered what it was that gripped you so much.

He didn't have to wonder much longer as he ripped your phone from your hands and darted up, standing to his full height as he swiftly perused the text messages.

You jumped up after him, reaching a hand up to grab at him only for him to lift the phone above his head, gaze staring up to read them.

"Give me my phone now! I swear to God Art I'll fucking--", the rest of your complaining fell on deaf ears. Art rolled his eyes, all you ever did was pull tantrums and shout. And you never shut up, prattling on about one thing or another, screaming profanities and empty threats that Art didn't even deign to laugh at anymore, that's how common they were.

Eyes scanning the messages, a grin began to grow on his face, until full fledged laughter erupted silently. You seethed at him, clawing at his hands to try and grab it. Art eventually gave in, rolling his eyes at your continued threats, putting a hand against your shoulder and roughly shoving you away, phone thrown into your lap as you fell against the settee.

Before he left, Art turned back with his horn held between his legs obscenely, stroking it with a surprised face, eyebrows high and lips forming an 'o' shape.

You glared at him, but couldn't deny the way your cheeks reddened as his stroking got faster and his eyes rolled back in mock euphoria. You folded your arms and shrugged; you had nothing to say to that. Yes you were sexting some random guy and yes you wanted some dick.

Art tipped his hat with a dead expression, his mimicry representing a gentlemanly 'farewell and adieu', and his expression reading 'desperate whore'.

Before he finally departed, Art held up a scissors in one hand and a pliers in the other. He snipped them sassily, threateningly, grinning all the while.

"Yeah, well, if he's shit you're more than welcome to use them on him." You assured, and you meant it too. This guy seemed a little odd anyway, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Art seemed pleasantly happy with that, giving you a thumbs up with his back turned as he left the house in his Santa getup.

It was probably because you were overly horny, but...

No, you shook your head. Now is not the time to think of him like that. Honestly, you were getting more depraved every week.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You don't know what you were expecting, but it was.. anticlimactic.

You had become so sinful since your rebirth, average sex no longer doing it for you. The first guy was okay, an asshole, but okay. You tried so hard to be pleasant and normal but frustration and an unhinged desire coursed through you desperately.

It wasn't as though his dick wasn't to your liking, he was just so average and fucking human that you didn't even manage to get to the part that you desperately craved, your disgust evident.

Anyway, he seemed to think you had a bad attitude - you did - which led to arguing. You were not backing down and neither was he.

Raised voices turned into insults, both of you storming out of your bedroom and down the stairs as you reigned your anger in and told him to get out.

You could see Art from the front door, he must've came home at some point, focus taken from the TV as he watched you both scream at each other, boots propped up on your fucking coffee table which you told him not to do so many times-

And then your cheek was turning as this assholes hand met the side of your face.

You could feel your teeth clenching. Your face remained stoic, eyes burning with fury. You could see Art chuckling cruelly in the background, shoulders moving silently, incredibly invested in how this is going to play out.

It was only then did the asshole seem to notice a flash of black and white in the background, turning with an ugly scowl to the clown who now suddenly stood with a large smile, hands clenching and unclenching in anticipation.

He faltered, mild confusion and anger still evident in his scowl. An angry finger pointed in the clowns direction. "Who the fuck is that? You got a queue lining up after me, honey?" He spat the vile words at you, acidic and full of disgust.

You didn't have a chance to respond, lips quirking in mild amusement and eyes smouldered like a fiery, dark pit. The man scoffed, rolling his eyes at the demonic clown, before gazing back down at you with his lips snarling enough to bare his teeth.

"I knew there was something off about you, you fucking slut. Too proud to put out and, let's be honest," the man gave you a slow, disgusting once over, "not much to look at."

Something in you snapped, but all that came out was a gentle, breathy laugh, your eyes shining and dancing with a peculiar emotion. You wonder what it reflected. Judging by the way Art tilted his head from afar, assessing, before beginning to chuckle to himself even more, it must've been something ominous.

"What the fuck are you laughing at, asshole? Want me to come over there and give you something to really laugh at?!" The man roared at Art from across the room, utterly furious, fists clenched until the knuckles turned white.

Art began pointing and laughing now, wide eyed and crazed as he nodded vigorously as though to say 'please do!'

Before he could, you gripped his arm gently; your expression depicted a mocking sense of disappointment. "I've ruined your night, and wasted all of your precious time." You huffed, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat for him, indignant at yourself. "And like you said, I'm really not looking my best, am I? I apologize.", you smiled sweetly up at him, eyes squinted almost cutely.

The man paused at your admittance, evidently not used to any woman ever agreeing with him. He relaxed somewhat, nodding to himself as though to say yes, you are the problem, not him.

Arts dark eyes bored into your form, entranced, unsmiling, deadly.

"I'll make it up to you."

Your smile spread eerily wide, slow and deliberate and full of glee, frozen on your face. There was something ominous about you, mouth spread so far it looked as though you were doing a poor imitation of how a human should smile. It was too wide, too happy, unnatural. Slowly, you made your way to the kitchen.

The man appeared shocked and faltered, squinting at you as though to decipher what's going on. It felt like his eyes deceived him, searching desperately. Did he hear wrong? Did he miss something? Turning back towards the clown for some semblance of an answer, he seemed to have vanished. There was no trace of him ever being there, and there was no sound.

All was too silent, too calm, and it made his nerves stand on end, unsure, horrifically uncertain about everything he had just witnessed. He needed to leave.

The man tensed, back stepping at the sudden eeriness. It was so quiet, in fact, that part of his mind doubted that he had ever spoken to someone in the first place. Shaking his head, he turned to leave. There had to be a logical explanation for all of this. Without another thought, he turned and made his way to the front door.

If not that, then the knife embedded in his back surely did.

His keys suddenly dropped to the floor from his hand. The sound was loud, and would probably shock anyone out of a daydream.

Though, a second later, the horrific cry that surely tore his vocal chords was loud enough to make it evidently clear that this was all very real.

The life that had been temporarily drained from the house now sprung to life viciously, all at once.

Gripping a fistful of his hair, you dragged him roughly through your living room, kicking him so hard in the chest he convulsed, air struggling to enter his wheezing lungs. Blood covered his chin, eyes wide and unable to comprehend these sudden events; Questions swirled in his horrified orbs.

Lips curling in disgust, you jumped on top of him and began violently beating him. The man struggled hard, trying to buck you off of him and attack you back but to no avail. You were as immovable as a wall, face stoic and nonchalant as the man flailed back and forth, desperate to escape.

His eyes were wide, terrified, blood pouring down his face. In a flash, you held his fist tightly, catching it before it could make contact with you. You began to chuckle, mirth dancing in your irises, squeezing so hard you could feel the bone snapping.

It wasn't normal, this level of power, but it felt so beautifully natural to you, something dark and radiantly evil crying out in glory at your actions, delightfully satisfied.

He roared in pain, tears involuntarily streaming down his face, hand mangled and deranged looking as he cradled it to his chest. He shuddered violently, eyes wild in horror. "What the fuck are you?!"

"Me?", you thought aloud softly, bloody hand to your chin contemplatively as you stared up at Art, who was so suddenly by your side that it made the man flinch and choke on his breath in fright.

"I'm a..slut, right? That's the word you used?" You looked at the man for confirmation, who shook his head swiftly in regret, face contorting miserably as he realized his grave error. He began to sob.

You gazed up at Art, who was clenching his hands rhythmically again, laughter shaking his shoulders. There was more than satisfaction at watching this asshole get beaten; almost a hidden connection of evil sparking between you both. He was corrupting you, but you yourself made these choices. You, avidly, enjoyed this outcome.

"Is that right, Art? He said slut, didn't he?", you hummed in thought, scratching your head for an answer. Your crimson hands dyed your hair a terrifying red as you curled a lock thoughtfully between your fingers.

Art nodded slowly, unable to take his eyes off the way your blue orbs became corrupted, like sediment contaminating a clear pool. They shined as black as his now.

"It's funny," you began with a dreamy sigh, eyelashes fluttering back down at the miserable sight below you. The whites of your eyes appeared disturbingly bloodshot. "For being such a slut, I haven't managed to get a good look at you yet. We didn't get too far earlier, did we?"

The man below you was hyper ventilating now, shaking his head furiously, knowing and fearing where this was going. His mangled hand joined the other in what looked like to be a feeble prayer, chest rising and falling rapidly. "I-Im sorry! Youre not a slut, you're--youre stunning and I'm so, so fucking sorry--"

Your act dropped then, eyes dead and void. A sense of dread hung heavy in the air for this man; There was no way out, and no amount of pleading would change that. You lifted your knife carelessly in the air, twirling the weapon hauntingly. The look the man gave you would stay in your memory for a while, it was full of pure, unadulterated terror.

You brought the knife down, slicing in his groin. The man screamed so loud you thought his vocal chords had torn. Blood pooled around you, soaked you, bathed you in a pretty crimson to match your nails.

Art was a hysterical mess, hunched over and pointing and laughing, miming a condescending, fake sobbing at the pathetic man. He held a sinister mirth in his eyes, absolutely buckled.

Grotesquely, you dug your hands into the gaping wound you had made in the man's genitals, rummaging around with the sounds of squelching blood permeating the air. Finding what you were looking for, you held it up high between your finger and thumb, expression holding that all too familiar disappointment.

Your lips quirked, "Not such a big man now, are you?"

Art was rife with laughter and joyfulness, and before you knew it, your giggling turned into cackling, blood smeared all over yourself as you held your stomach, tears falling down your cheeks in sick, dark satisfaction.

You hadn't laughed this hard in years, hadn't felt this liberated and happy in a while. Everytime you calmed down, giggles becoming quiet, Art would hold up the castrated organ absurdly, wiggling it like an ugly worm with a look of surprise on his face, eyebrows high and mouth open, and you'd be on the floor cackling madly once again.

It must've been a grotesque sight, you on your knees upon the floor, blood sinking so deeply into your clothes you wondered if it would come out, wiping tears of laughter away only to smudge deep streaks of red across your cheeks. You looked like an animal, rabid and violent.

Art gazed down at your crazed form with a smirk of satisfaction, chaos swirling in his eyes. It was as though he had been waiting for that part of him to corrupt you, for your anger to explode, for your unhinged desires to manifest.

After some time, everything fell peacefully quiet. It was comfortable, and dare you say amicable. Your breathing was the only sound in the room, slowing down as you gazed down at the way your feet were absolutely soaked red.

Leaning back on your hands, you caught sight of the demonic clown with his arms folded, leaning against the wall. He seemed serene, no longer smiling but definitely not frowning either. His black eyes perused the coating of blood on the floor, making their way up to study you deliberately.

His stare was intense, and you couldn't stop your cheeks from lifting upwards into a smile. Pushing yourself to a stand, you grimaced at the mutilated body on the floor and shivered in disgust.

You nudged at the corpse with your foot, cringing. "Maybe mortal men just aren't for me, anymore. "Though," you began as an afterthought, "even if I had a boyfriend, you'd probably kill him anyway." You sighed, fully acknowledging this.

You weren't even aggravated by that fact anymore. It would've really angered you once, but what's the point? You and Art seemed bound together forever, by the looks of it. You couldn't imagine him sitting idly with another person in the house. But then again, neither would you.

Art deliberated, gazing upwards in brief thought, before shrugging too. Yeah, probably. Just to get under your skin, mostly. And maybe an inkling of something else. He finally nodded, eyes staring down at you from his nose, like an old librarian with their glasses on the end of their nose. Snobbish. He had a reputation to up hold, you know. His nonchalant expression read 'well, you're not wrong.'

You scoffed, though offered a small smile nonetheless. He was amusing. For a silent clown, he was awfully verbal with his theatrical ways.

But now you began to think solemnly; What you just did - the killing, the maiming, the castrating - was vile. It was unforgivable, sickening. Your human half knows this, and something is conflicted within you. It felt like two halves of yourself were at war.

Even still, you felt joy. And you know that's wrong, and it's absolutely maniacal. But what's even more astounding is right here, on a late Saturday evening, you and that stupid clown stood with an air of tranquillity and comfort, together. If this was two years ago, you'd be within inches of maiming each other.

Like a domesticated couple, Art got to work on disposing of the body, dragging it with ease to your back door, before disappearing. It left a streak of smudged red on your tiles. You got to work cleaning, rolling your sleeves up as you hunted for something to make your floor shine again. It took a while, but he was gone for some time anyway.

By the time everything was relatively tidy, it was past midnight. The stain on the floor had disappeared thankfully, and you felt refreshed after a hot bath, changing into comfortable pyjamas and fluffy socks.

You sat in your bed, blankets pulled comfortingly up to your stomach. Your bedroom was filled with dim lights, and they had their necessary effect of making you feel content.

You had chosen a random film to watch on tv. It didn't really matter which one because your thoughts were otherwise occupied. It played serenely in the background, but something was bothering you.

A part of you felt slightly deflated. You were still undeniably frustrated and borderline desperate to have this desire quelled within you, and now that you had a moment to yourself, it barrelled to the forefront of your mind.

It was a ridiculous feeling, but you couldn't help that you were so pent up. Maybe you were ovulating. That did tend to make your hormones go haywire.

Even still, you hadn't long killed a man. It would be wrong to..indulge after that, wouldn't it? You pursed your lips in thought, two sides of yourself fighting menacingly. You couldn't tell if your good was being corrupted, or if Arts evil that had tainted you had brought out repressed, dark feelings that most humans surely kept hidden.

You didn't feel guilty, which was peculiar. Your nature before meeting Art often held a lot of empathy. You could feel yourself shifting, but you could never pinpoint the change until it had already been demonstrated. From the way Art pierced his black eyes into you, you bet he could see the transformation easily.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the background noise of the TV suddenly became incredibly interesting to your brain. You paused, peering at the TV as the sounds of quiet gasps and sloppy kissing filled your room.

It wasn't even particularly erotic, but..

Even just the sounds had your pulse increasing ever so slightly. In your desperate state of mind, it was easy to imagine how that messy kissing felt, tangled up in somebody else, remembering the feel of bolts of arousal shooting down your body in tingles as it became more passionate, more eager.

You were in a trance, frozen as you watched and drank up every detail. Male hands gliding down a womanly figure, cupping her heavy breasts and listening to the shaky inhales and exhales she made, back arching into his hands needily.

You felt a hot warmth bloom in your abdomen, a pulse beating steadily between your thighs. How were you so affected by this? You weren't even just mildly turned on, you were in a state of full blown arousal, a stickiness oozing between your legs. You felt like some of that was from earlier, mostly from the anticipation of sex rather than the futile attempts that asshole made on you.

The image now depicted the man positioning the woman on her hands and knees, readying her. You gripped your blanket, wanting so badly to be touched like that again and actually enjoy it.

Your eyes were fixated on the screen, hyper analysing every detail you could take in. The world around you faded.

The actor on screen gripped the woman's hips roughly, situating himself behind her. He gave her no time to prepare before sinking in slowly, and you watched the way her lips spread open in a quiet moan, brows furrowed and chest rising and falling rapidly.

A wave of heat flashed through you, making you warm enough that you had to kick the blanket off your person. What film was this? It was incredibly pornographic, not that you were complaining..

Your bottoms were next to go, tossed haphazardly to the floor; you were sweltering. Granted, the room was far too warm anyway, but what you were witnessing on screen had you in a completely different state of over heating.

All you had on now was a pair of black, silky underwear and an oversized top. You felt dishevelled, and sighed as the scene ended far too quickly for your liking and the TV adverts started to play.

You watched on in boredom as Christmas adverts began popping up colourfully with the sound of bells ringing. You felt mildly irritated, your arousal fizzling considerably, but still prominent. You were left with the sticky reminder between your thighs, head lolling back against your bedframe.

Your head rolled to the left, eyes staring down your nose at the sight of your bedside drawer. Specifically, the one that held a lot of intimate objects. You felt a little cautious using the vibrator because knowing Art, he'd curiously come up to see what the noise was; he seemed to have acute hearing.

But if you went under the blankets, vibrator hidden between your thighs, there's no way he'd hear that. Your door was firmly shut and the buzzing was incredibly muffled under your duvet. You'd be quiet and keep it on the first setting.

You were astounded once again at just how wound up and sensitive you are, vibrator delicately touching your clit as your phone displayed a pornographic video.

The cock on the screen was a good size, and as you watched it's girth spread the woman's puffy labia, a sudden desperation gnawed through you. You pressed the vibrator onto your clit more directly, the bottom of your t shirt caught between your lips as your tits jutted out prettily on display, nipples pert.

You bit down on the fabric to quell your whines of delight, breathing sharp and fast through your nose as the vibrating against your clit became over whelming, body alight with a white hot fire that spanned from your abdomen down to your toes.

Your sodden hole clenched needily, you wanted to be filled but you needed a man to do that. You wanted to receive a worthy dick that would split you in half just like the woman on your small screen.

The scene changed abruptly, and what was shown next had your hips bucking desperately into the vibrator, teeth now clenching the fabric hard as your breathing became heavy through your nose, pleasure intensifying.

The man had the woman on her knees, his member shoved ruthlessly into her mouth as he gripped a fistful of her hair and used her like a toy. Saliva decorated her mouth, and you watched with rapt attention as the mans heavy balls slapped her chin; it all seemed degrading, but..

A moan escaped you, muffled, and your back arched as you moved a hand between your thighs and touched the outside of your entrance; you were absurdly wet, sinking straight through your underwear and smearing your inner thighs.

You so desperately wanted to grab the dildo from your draw and push it deep within yourself, hard, but you refrained. Your climax was approaching anyway, and you could hardly stop yourself from whining at the thought of being the woman on the screen, sucking a hard dick as you made a messy pool of wetness below you, begging to be split apart.

From there, it was a hasty descent into blinding pleasure, your wariness dimming as low moans escaped your lips. Your eyes were shut now, permanent soft frown creasing your eyebrows as you were so close to your peak, cresting at the very precipice--

A loud bang resounded in your room, loud enough to drag you out of your delirious stupor. Your eyes shot open in annoyance, wondering if you had kicked your remote control off of the bed, but then your blood turned to ice in your veins.

In fact, you sat so absurdly shocked that all movements ceased, eyes wide and unblinking at the now ajar door of your bedroom which you definitely, without doubt, unequivocally, had shut earlier.

You blinked rapidly, vibrator dropping from your hand. It buzzed obscenely on the bed with a sheen of lubrication covering the tip, but you hardly registered it.

The door was less than halfway ajar, your dark hallway the only thing you could see, and..

A hand flew to your mouth in utter mortification, cheeks flaming crimson. You felt dizzy with a multitude of emotions.

A messy, hand written note was celotaped to your door. In jagged, capital letters spelled 'Art was here'. With a crude, childish winky face drawn beside it.

Your breathing increased suddenly, limbs shaking with not only the almost-orgasm you were about to receive, but also the unusual fluttering of your stomach in nervous humiliation and something else.

You felt severely perplexed, biting your nails as you tried to reminisce, tried to pinpoint when and how he had opened the door without you knowing and celotaped that preposterous note to your door. How was that even possible?

Clearly, Art wanted to grab your attention just as you were about to orgasm, most likely banging your wall from the hallway, hard. It sounded like a picture frame had fallen.

That made sense. At the very least, one thing did. But what about the rest, how was he able to furtively open your door, noiselessly, undoubtedly watching you?

You bolted up straighter, eyes darting around anxiously. Oh my God, he hadn't just intuitively known you were touching yourself, he must've heard something. Were you loud? You couldn't remember, you were so dazed.

Your mind created pictures of your thoughts, envisioning him opening your door just a crack and--

Your hands covered your face. You were so embarrassed. Had he been watching you? He surely had. And alongside this humiliation, why did you feel a flutter of nervous excitement roll through you? Were you so depraved?

Your hands kneaded your blanket, gripping handfuls and releasing rhythmically. Holy God, Art had made you feel many things over the years.

Hatred, annoyance, recent joy and laughter, fear, anxiety, you could go on and on, but this?

This was something new. And yeah, maybe he only did it to get under your skin. What better way to mortify a woman than catching her red handed, touching herself, and calling her out on it?

But..

Your thoughts took it a step further.

Was there..any other reason?

You bit your lip in contemplation, arms wrapped around yourself comfortingly. At some point over the past two years, brief thoughts of the demonic clown had entered your mind, fleeting sexual thoughts that left as quickly as they came.

Because, well, you were evidently desperate at this point. And he had a certain charm about him, once you got passed the ire you once held for him. And he was a man, or in a man's body, anyway.

Your mind swirled with questions, dirty thoughts, and unending embarrassment each time you realised he probably saw everything that you did.

And he probably saw the way your teeth gnawed into your shirt to silence yourself, heavy breasts poking out beneath, fully exposed, expression one of unbridled, desperate pleasure.

Your heart beat felt like it was in your ears, anxiety high. The door remained open for a reason. He wanted you to come out, and then wanted to absolutely humiliate you.

You got along a lot better now, as evidenced earlier, but that didn't mean that he'd stop messing with you.

Begrudgingly, you knew that even with your enhanced abilities and strength, you were no match for him. If he wanted to truly be hidden, he would. If he wanted to truly be swift and unseen in his movements, he would be.

You often found your bizarre abilities only worked when you were angry, or felt some sort of negative emotion.

Otherwise, you were just a regular human, having no control over that shard of terror that lingered within you from your rebirth.

Steeling your nerves, you took slow steps towards the door. You were still clad in your long t shirt and fluffy socks, and schooled your expression into one of stern stoicism.

You couldn't avoid that asshole forever.

Gripping the door handle, you stepped fully into the darkness of the hallway, enveloped. Standing still for a few moments, you realised he obviously wasn't outside your door, waiting to terrify you.

Swallowing nervously, you made your way downstairs. The stairs groaned and creaked like they always did, but it sounded absolutely deafening to you as it signalled your descent.

Out of everything that he had ever done to you - from killing you, to breaking your bones, stabbing you and everything else - this made you feel the most vulnerable.

Your living room was pitch black, not a single light illuminating the area. You held your breath, listening as intently as you could.

Silence.

Your throat felt too dry to call out to him. You knew your voice would shake, your words would stammer. It would make the situation even more shameful, so you remained quiet.

Your eyes surveyed the living room in darkness, honing in on any unnatural shadow that seemed a little too eerie; he wasn't here. That frightened you more than if he had taken this moment to jump out at you.

Uneasy frustration welled up within you. Not only had your pleasure been ripped away from you, your legs uncomfortably sticky, but now you felt incredibly exposed.

Inhaling deeply, you glared holes into your kitchen door. Two things could happen here: Either he was in there waiting to scare the hell out of you, or he wasn't in there at all, making you more on edge.

You pushed the door open, trailing inside with faux confidence, switching the lights on.

Nobody was here.

If anything, the kitchen was still surprisingly how you left it earlier - clean. Eyebrows drawing together into a scowl, you grabbed a glass of water, chair screeching as you took a seat.

Art must've pulled that trick on you and then promptly left, entering the night to no doubt destroy another victims life.

Brushing your dishevelled hair out of your face, you sat back against the chair defeatedly. Well, your emotions aren't going to change what's already happened, and you'd have to face that asshole at some point.

Evidently, tonight was not the night.

Glancing at the clock, you couldn't believe that it was already 3am. Your eyes felt heavy, your limbs felt weary and you were burnt out.

Peering around the kitchen, you realised that you must've left your phone upstairs.

That's fine, you needed to sleep anyway. Pushing yourself to a stand, you trudged sleepily up the shadowed stairs, rubbing at your burning eyes with the back of your hand.

You felt content at the moment to sleep off the crazy events of the day and worry about them tomorrow. Your door was open, just as you had left it, and the comforting glow of your warm lights that emitted from inside welcomed you with open arms.

Stepping into the safety of your room felt relieving, and as you turned back to close the bedroom door firmly, you came face to terrifying face with a chest.

You froze, mind pausing in fright at the sudden, tall body that blocked your doorway. You blinked rapidly, face displaying astonishment, and snapped your head up at the perpetrator, wide eyed.

What stared back down at you made caution well up inside you. Art stood tall, appearing out of thin air clad in his absurd Santa costume. It suited him, and the bulky material only served to make his structure appear even bigger, more menacing.

Your eyes fluttered up at him with uncertainty, darting rapidly between his face and his chest as you struggled to maintain his intense eye contact.

The clowns face was all sharp contours, edged smile of amusement plastered to his face as he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed languidly across his chest, widening his overall structure considerably. Has he always been this big?

He watched you with a wide, salacious grin, eyes alight and unwavering, and from the glint in his eye you knew what was about to come.

You swallowed, feeling your mask of neutrality betraying you as your body heated up, displaying a pink hue to your complexion. You didn't know what to say, how to act. Art could see this, the way you'd open your mouth only to close it, eyes darting around nervously.

You were usually so full of complaints, insults and incredibly argumentative when he had 'crossed the line', as you so often called it. As he so often did. Since your rebirth, you were all fire and wrath, near enough ripping his head off for something as simple as leaving a bloody mess on your floors or your door handles, if he didn't clean it anyway.

Of course, Art had begrudgingly agreed with you long ago to cease the truly harsh fighting, but that didn't mean that you didn't bicker, in a sense. He liked your ire, the way your teeth would grind together in anger, the way you'd go into an absolute fit if he threatened to childishly mess with your makeup and clothes, or anything you held valuable, really.

It was funny, and he knew you secretly got a kick out of it. Once the cat and dog game was over, you'd snap back to being a sweet, little human. It was interesting, and so amusing.

But this? Art peered down at you deliberately, perusing your flushed exterior with a smug, self satisfied grin.

He had been looking for new ways to get you to crack. So far, everything annoying he did was met with your aggressive screeches, and that was fine. But he needed something juicy, needed something that would really bother you, rile you up.

For a while, he struggled to find anything. He couldn't go too far with his schemes - you were both bound together, after all, so that would be met with futility.

He truly enjoyed bothering you, that was true, but his methods got boring. What could he possibly do that would make you think twice, or go silent? What would really shock you, make you revert back into your humanity, so full of emotion?

As a point of reiteration, he could have done many crude, evil and horrific things, but he couldn't because of your peculiar connection. So, he had to settle for something that was..bearable to you, but also astounding.

He came across this opportunity by pure chance. He knew what you got up to behind closed doors, you were a needy thing, but he didn't really think twice about it. He kept the knowledge of it quiet, however, just in case he ever needed to utilise it for fun.

It didn't interest him, initially. He enjoyed inflicting pain, mentally and physically, so the fact that you would so often touch yourself to induce pleasure wasn't particularly within his territory of fixations. He had other things that kept him occupied.

However, hearing your laboured breathing and quiet little moans had piqued his interest on this particular day. He had no reason for that, other than the simple fact that he wanted to spy on you. It was an urge that came by on a whim; it meant nothing, it is nothing, but Art often acted spontaneously on how he felt in the moment.

Mortal flesh did so often have its urges.

And a light bulb certainly lit up within his mind - this was the perfect way to humiliate you.

He had watched the way you gnawed at your t-shirt to keep quiet, pretty pert tits on display as you brought yourself closer and closer to completion. Art had grinned wickedly at the scene, hands fisting and shaking in excitement at the thought of never letting you live this down.

But, upon watching further, witnessing the way your head lolled back pleasurably, back arching and legs splayed wide in pure need, he couldn't deny the barely restrained desire to storm in and tease you until you were wracked with sobs.

Art had frowned in puzzlement at that feeling - it was incredibly rare for him - but his smile soon returned, shrugging as he accepted his feelings. If anything, this would only serve to embarrass you even more, he thought.

And now, dark eyes trained on your rapidly warming face, Art was enraptured by the amount of emotion that seemed to demonstrate itself. Your expressions changed quickly, and the details were minuscule, but he could see you entering a vicious cycle of bewilderment, embarrassment, anger and self consciousness.

It was as though your brain didn't know whether to lash out or guard itself. It was entertaining.

The silence hung heavily. Arts position remained the same, leaned casually against the doorframe, and yours remained as rigid and tense as ever. Your mind felt muddled. With a slow breath, your expression fell flat. Even still, you couldn't look him in the eye, and instead glared heavily at his chest.

"Stop it.", you began with a quiet, indignant scowl, chastising him. Your eyebrows drew together, so incredibly uncertain. His eyes bored holes into you and it was making you squirm. You were too stubborn to turn away.

Even still, you'd admit defeat temporarily. You didn't have the energy to battle him right now. With a huff, you turned on your heel and made your way to the bed, exasperatedly throwing your arms up into the air.

"Fine, stay there and stare all night for all I care; I'm tired." But you did care, didn't you? It gnawed at you.

Barely making it to the bed, you stopped abruptly at the sound of fingers snapping at you once, twice, seeking your attention. With a roll of your eyes, you slowly turned to look at him, expression thunderous. "Art, I'm not in the mood for this, and-- is that my phone?"

You barely breathed the question in masked panic, eyes wide once more as your phone dangled teasingly from his fingertips, wide grin stretching impossibly further.

The clown shrugged softly as though to say 'maybe', shoulders beginning to move rapidly, rising and falling in laughter as he held a hand to his mouth in faux astonishment at whatever was showing on your phone.

He feigned a look of bashfulness, fanning his face for a moment, eyes fluttering, before pointing and laughing at you some more. Your face twitched in it's attempt to remain calm and neutral, but Art could see right through you.

Covering his eyes obscenely at whatever was on the screen, but still very clearly peeking through the gaps in his fingers, Art swiftly turned the phone around so you could have a look.

That's when your mouth went dry and heat began to pinken your face even more. On the screen displayed the porn you were looking at earlier. You must've forgotten to close the tab, leaving the video running.

The volume had been turned up far too loud, the sounds of slurping and moaning vibrating through your skull deafeningly. A woman on screen had her hair gripped hard in a fistful, the man above her sliding his thick length between her lips. The sounds were filthy, and so so loud. You gripped the sides of your face loosely in devastation.

This time, you stormed up to him furiously, lunging and making a grab for your phone. "Stop it!", you repeated, shrieking this time.

You missed the phone entirely as he lifted it higher. You seethed, teeth clenched in frustration as the sounds continued, except now they had increased exponentially. From the way the screen turned down at you, you could see the man lifting the woman's thighs over his shoulders before he--

You shook your head furiously, shame blooming deep within your chest as you roughly slapped a hand against his chest for leverage, trodding onto his boots on your tiptoes to try and make another grab for your phone.

The attempt was futile, art was so tall and his arms were so long that you could never reach it. Your body was pressed up against his own, stretching high to make even minor progress in retrieving your phone. You could feel your anger boiling, scowling as you reared an arm back and aimed a punch for his sternum.

Everything happened incredibly fast after that. Before you could make contact, your forearm was gripped hard, your body was spun and your arm was wrenched behind your back.

You yelped, back pressed firmly to his front. You jerked side to side rapidly, releasing a cry of frustration in your attempt to get out of his iron grip, but to no avail.

"Let me go right now!" You attempted to sound demanding and aggressive, but it came out whiny, your voice shaking. You could feel the clowns body vibrating with laughter behind you, hand so tight around your arm you couldn't move at all.

On any other day, when you and Art would undoubtedly get into situations like this due to his pestering, you had a far better chance of escaping because you were often angry.

But today, you felt..more vulnerable than anything. You felt so puny, so small and human and fragile. It was a dirty trick on his part, and it prevented your usual unnatural strength from bursting forth.

Well, even with that strength, you don't think you could truly win against Art anyway.

Tossing back and forth regardless, you huffed and cursed at him repeatedly, knees slightly bent from the way he held you tightly and put pressure on you.

"You're a fucking asshole!", you seethed, practically feeling the mirth roll off of him in waves at your predicament.

A strong hand wrapped it's way around your delicate jaw, holding firmly but not painfully. Your head was pushed upwards almost playfully, fingertips tickling the underside of your face.

You met your own scowling expression in the body length mirror that decorated your wardrobe doors. It was as long as the doors and just as wide, giving you a clear view of Arts smirking face hovering above you.

You took in your dishevelled complexion, hair a wild mess, face lightly perspiring and your long pyjama t shirt barely reaching just above your knee.

You were hunched slightly due to being immobilised, and the hand that cradled your jaw looked absolutely massive. It was big enough to crush your skull if he wanted to, big enough to easily smother your mouth and nose without actively trying to.

Your scowl had lessened considerably at this point, that vulnerable expression returning once more. From this view, you hadn't realised just how tall he was compared to you. He was lithe, but wearing that Santa costume made him fill out a little, appear wider.

On a normal day his size would swallow your stature whole, casting a shadow over you, but in that costume?

He looked huge.

The stark realisation of this, paired with the absurdly intimate way he had your back flush to his chest and his calloused hand wrapped around your jaw with a salacious smirk, forcing you to stare at him in the mirror - you couldn't help but flush.

You found that you couldn't look away, your head attempting to move only to have his grip tighten, his grin sharpening. He loomed above you like an evil blight, eyes dark and calculating.

The sounds of the video continued in the background, a particularly loud cry having drawn you out of your thoughts, and it caused you to flutter your eyes to the floor and away from his charcoal irises.

You couldn't deny the heat that began to flourish within you.

It only increased tenfold at the feeling of a firm hand slowly gliding it's way from your jaw, descending directly to your waist, then further to your hip, squeezing.

Your eyes widened, head snapping back up at the mirror in bewilderment. You were met with the sight of his rough hand caressing you, smiling all the while.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You spat rapidly in disbelief, words shaken and sounding far weaker than you would've liked.

He had never done this to you before. Art liked to cause pain, not..

Not this. Not any semblance of pleasure, of intimacy. Your lips opened in a quiet gasp, body tingling as the heat of his hand drew circles along your hipbone before delving lower.

You jerked in his grasp, flushing heavily at the sight of his hand gliding lower and lower until his fingers played with the hem of your t shirt.

"D-dont you dare!", you squeezed your thighs together, body squirming against him with struggle. He had long since released your numb arm, and instead opted for wrapping a long arm around your waist, your head resting against his chest as his daring hand gripped the fabric of your t shirt and teasingly went to lift it, only to stop, awaiting your reaction.

His shoulders began to move with glee, chest vibrating. Your reactions were priceless as you squirmed and attempted to back away from his hand, only to back further into his body.

This infuriated you, your flushed complexion displaying panic and bashfulness.

Those mischievous fingers danced along your thigh, lifting the fabric once again, higher this time, before dropping it. His expression held one of mock surprise, lips downturned neutrally and eyes wide, eyebrows lifted.

"Don't-- don't do that! I mean it!", you whined miserably, heat encompassing your body. It caused him to pause, eyes snapping from your almost exposed thighs to your pleading gaze.

That sharp, predatory grin returned. The heat of his hand squeezed your thigh and slipped under the fabric, tickling the edge of your underwear, fingers playing with the intricate, laced detail.

Your breath shuddered, eyes wide, and you unconsciously moved a hand to grip at his wrist. Whether to push him away or pull him in, you didn't know anymore; you felt overwhelmed, and the way your chest rose and fell rapidly portrayed that.

Art snickered, unwrapping himself from your body and taking a step back, his boots thumping. With a playful roll of his eyes, he held his hands up in mock surrender, as though to reassure you that it was all a harmless joke, and attempted to smile softly, innocently. It made him appear all the more sinister.

You spun around on your heel, taking a step back yourself as you scrutinised his display of surrender. It was uncharacteristic. Despite that, Art shook his hands exasperatedly in the air, sighing as though to say 'it was a joke, don't you believe me?'

You shook your head slowly, lost for words. You couldn't speak, throat dry and mind racing. You wanted to run away.

Art rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, before rolling them back to you dramatically, grin plastered on his face. At your retreat, he experimentally took a step forward, rather comical if not for the situation, and chuckled at your jittery self.

You furrowed your brows, not falling victim to this act anymore. You were going to kick his ass tomorrow, but for now you needed to retreat into the safety of your blanket, tail between your legs. "Get out.", you pointed towards the door sternly.

Arts eyes followed your finger to the door, before blinking over to you once more. His gaze swept over your form, head tilting in thought. He began to smirk.

Before you could react, Art leapt forward three steps, making you yelp and scramble backwards, narrowly missing falling over the edge of your bed as you backed your way towards the wall.

The clown snickered again, standing up tall and no longer doing that comical hunched appearance when he lunged at you. Now, he stood to his full height, back straight and stature big, before his boots thudded along your floor as he slowly advanced in a predatory fashion.

"I swear to God if you come near me--", you pressed yourself against the wall, watching his looming figure get taller and taller.

Your neck craned upwards, stare defiant as he hovered above. Heavy hands suddenly planted themselves violently either side of your head, crowding you in.

You flinched, blinking rapidly at the way he leaned down to become eye level with you. Your cheeks were pink again, eyes darting across his face for an answer to his weird behavior. What the hell was going on?

He was alluring, you thought, and it made thoughts race in your mind. Was he going to suddenly hurt you? Was he truly just playing? Was he actively flirting with you in his sick type of way? You had never fell this silent in front of him before. You needed to gain equal ground against this asshole.

"That's enough. What, are you interested in me now?", you scoffed, daring to lean forward into his space, face so close to his you could feel his silent breath; it was a front, you felt jittery even now, but you wouldn't allow him to mess with you any longer.

Art grinned, not at all reacting to your faux bout of confidence. He shrugged half-heartedly, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. It left you dumbstruck. What he did next made heat spread so unbelievably throughout your body.

You were so flustered your head felt heavy, and it only increased tenfold as your wrist was gripped in his big hand, fingers limp and relaxed, before he brought the digits you had touched yourself with to his lips and slid them in slow.

You shuddered, inhaling sharply at this display of intimacy. His grip was slack on your wrist, seeming to omit to the fact that you could escape if you really wanted to.

But you didn't want to. The thought didn't even cross your mind, and his eyes narrowed in a knowing sense of smugness at that.

Arousal swelled in your lower belly, pooling between your thighs as Arts tongue danced between the seam of your fingers, the ticklish feeling sending tingles through your nerves.

Art peered down at you, mouth full of your fingers, his grin turning nasty as he bit them lightly. Despite the clear threat that he could rip them out of the socket, your eyes remained lidded, pupils blown wide and hand lax as you let him caress you with his tongue and teeth. Crowded so close together against the wall, he could hear your heart beat thumping.

Dropping your wrist from his grip, Art reached down, bending at the knees to hook two hands below your thighs. You cried out as you were lifted high, legs resting in his grip.

He did this with ease, as though you were weightless. Sitting down on the bed, he adjusted you so you could sit on his lap, facing away from him. You could see yourselves in the mirror.

Art hooked his legs between your knees and spread them open. You wiggled against his hold, embarrassed at your exposure. Your black, lacy underwear was displayed, t shirt bunching up at your hips. You couldn't bring yourself to snap at him to stop fucking with you because..

Well, you were eager, far more eager than you thought. Had you always harboured this feeling towards the clown?

You were crimson faced, lips quivering as you tried to make your expression as neutral as possible; He had you on his lap like he was actually Santa, and you were the one telling him what you wanted for Christmas.

The thought had you lowering your head in bashfulness. No innocent Santa would have you spread and bared like this one.

The expression Art made in the mirror was one of mock surprise, eyebrows high and mouth forming like a circle. Before you could even ponder about it, a large hand was brought down to your inner thigh, fingers inching their way further in, caressing the sensitive area before cupping your clothed sex.

You held your breath, staring stubbornly back at him in the mirror. His hand was warm, and you couldn't help but shudder at the feel of his hand trailing upwards slowly, dancing over your clitoris briefly, then your mound, and up to the waistband of your underwear.

His fingers dipped below the waistband, gauging your reaction, but you refused to give one. Cocking an eyebrow in curiosity, you felt his hand descend, lower and lower, fingers gliding over your silken lips before delicately resting over your hole.

You flushed darkly, gritting your teeth as Art made an even more astounded expression, shaking his head slowly as though to admonish you for the mess between your legs. His fingertips rubbed circles in the lubrication oozing out of you, dipping in slightly but never far enough.

A small sound escaped your throat, barely audible, but loud enough for him. A slow, smug smirk stretched his face wide, and you could only huff defiantly. "I-- That's not because of you! I was like this before you rudely interrupted, remember?" You pouted.

Art rolled his eyes, nodding his head in quick succession with a look of mock belief at your words. He knew you were lying and so did you. Then, with a sly grin, two fingers glided upwards towards your slippery clit.

You gasped that time, quiet but still embarrassingly deafening to yourself, gripping the fabric of his forearm tightly.

A tingling sensation flooded your system, your body shifting and legs widening. He continued to massage the area, direct and blissful. You bit your lip, unwilling to let him see how much you enjoyed this.

Art chuckled, shaking his head at you with a nasty grin, eyebrows low and cynical. His dark eyes swirled chaotically, full of challenge and amusement and something else.

Hand descending further into your soaked underwear, two fingers dipped into your slit, thoroughly lubricating his calloused fingers.

Art paused, winking at you in the mirror. You attempted to glare back at him in the reflection, but you lacked the effort, and instead your eyebrows were drawn together softly, lips parting as two fingers slid into you to the knuckles, delving deep and curling sinfully against your greedy walls.

"Oh!", you moaned, hips lifting instinctively. Art began to thrust his fingers into you deep and hard, listening to the lewd squelching and how it seemed to fluster you terribly.

The feeling was intense; you hadn't been properly touched in so long, so to feel his thick, rough fingers curling rhythmically within your hot core, it made your nerve endings sing and your hips buck.

You gripped his arm hard, gasping, body fully resting against his own, head lolled back against his shoulder. Arts shoulders shook with laughter, terribly amused by the sight of you falling apart, but he wanted more from you. He wanted to break you, he wanted to make an unintelligible mess of you.

You were so prideful, you'd never live this down.

A fist gripped your hair roughly, tangling the locks before his fingers began to pummel into you expeditiously. It was too much, too fast, and you couldn't help but kick your legs uselessly, crying out.

"Ah, ahh-- Stop it, too much--", you whined, panting as the sounds of your wetness became loud, thighs drenched. You could see in the mirror the way his hand moved ferociously, molding the fabric of your underwear.

Your pleas made him speed up, thrusting so hard and so fast you wailed, thrashing upon his lap and dampening the fabric of his costume.

This was what you wanted, you thought heatedly. You wanted someone to render you immobile, shatter your mind. The view of his sinister smirk boring holes into you was alluring, head forced backwards with the grip in your hair. It made heat prickle along your spine.

Your hips began to move with his fingers, desperately seeking more, any semblance of pride vanishing as you chased your high. Your constant grinding made you feel the thick, long length pressing up against your ass, and you couldn't help but moan wantonly, pushing yourself into it with need.

His hand was drenched in your fluids, and it made him snicker. If this was you now, imagine you later when he forced you to take his cock.

Suddenly, your underwear was torn off of you, exposing the image of his large hand going in and out, curling, and thrusting deeply. The visual was arousing, your eyes half mast and dilated.

His palm lifted suddenly and jerked back down with a quick, firm slap. You jolted, wincing at the sting it caused, but before you had a chance to return back to contentedness, it struck again.

Those sinful digits eased their way out of you, smoothing up the length of your puffy labia, cupping it soothingly. You sighed, panting lightly, body relaxed and pliant.

His hand was hot and it made you feel content.

This time, it was sharper, and you gasped, scrambling to sit up but being forced to remain where you were as an iron grip wrapped it's way around your midsection.

Again, that firm hand slapped your sensitive folds, and you whined miserably at the pain and pleasure it caused.

Your lips were beginning to darken red from his assault, and yet you were still undeniably wet from his ministrations.

Your legs began quivering from the overstimulation, and you drew them together, trapping his hand. He seemed to let you, tilting his head with a quirk of his lips.

"S-stop tormenting me. Can't take it, not today. Please, just..", you paused, gnawing at your lip; you didn't want to admit to him what you really needed.

Art blinked rapidly, almost innocently down at you. He held a cupped hand to his ear, his other hand waving for you to continue, as though to usher you to speak the words he knows you're going to struggle to admit.

You pouted petulantly, eyes sparkling with unshed tears from frustration and the light stinging of your folds. Your peak had been building, only to be abruptly halted.

"No," you groaned weakly, "don't make me say it, you asshole." Your words lacked any real ire, and instead sounded exhausted. You were so pent up, so desperate at this point. As soon as the offence left your lips, two fingers began circling around your clit, refusing to touch directly. Art all but smiled at you patiently, face splitting with glee.

You sighed softly at the soothing pleasure, head lolling back against his shoulder. It felt so good, and you tried to buck your hips to make his fingers slip over your clit, but to no avail.

This caused you to release a frustrated whimper, feebly bucking your hips again, but this time Art stopped his stroking altogether, fingers hovering above the area you needed them most.

"No, I-I'm sorry!", you rushed out insincerely, desperate for his touch. You could feel tears dancing along your lash line, threatening to spill pathetically.

"Don't stop. I.. I need this so badly. Please.", you relented, biting your lip nervously, eyes fluttering to the floor in shame. You felt that familiar vibration; he was laughing at you.

Even still, the clown did deliberate. On one hand, he could continue tormenting you. That would be fun, and it was the initial plan, but even he couldn't deny his mortal desires. He had a strong threshold for such matters; he wasn't often interested enough.

If anything, he never paid enough attention to whether it was a man or a woman that he was maiming. That only goes to prove how disinterested he was in the whole affair of carnality.

This situation was unique, however. He was bound to a human he had once killed, who had just as miraculously as him managed to rise from the dead, and was stuck with you for ever. And, you are a woman. He couldn't damage you terribly, and he couldn't kill you. What better way to make you submit to him than by fucking your prideful, spiteful, hot-headed little self into the bed?

You were so easy to aggravate, spitting venomous insults and screeching in anger at him. That was all well and good, but he wanted to see the look on your face when he pummelled you dumb.

If death was out of the question, then immobilising you with his own body would have to do.

Gripping your waist tightly, Art maneuvered your body with ease, spinning you in his lap until both your thighs sat either side of him. A hand held your lower back firmly against his body, standing up halfway to tug down the bottoms of his Santa costume. They fell to his knees, and he promptly sat back down, grinning.

You hovered over his thick length, flushing red in anticipation. Hands finding leverage upon his shoulders, you let your wet lips rest against the tip, shivering as you did.

He felt big. You hadn't really managed to look at it, but from the feeling you knew he was going to split you open.

He seemed to be barely touching you, grinning cheekily as he awaited your next move. His cooperation made you uneasy, you wondered what he had planned.

The thought disappeared swiftly as you bared your hips down onto him, letting the tip nudge past your swollen lips, sinking in an inch or two.

You inhaled sharply, feeling the beginning of his girth and pausing in your descent. "I-I haven't done this in a while and you feel--mmm-," you bit your lip, sinking down a further inch, your insides pulsating and stinging.

You squeezed him tightly, walls rippling and attempting to mold to his shape. You gasped again, lips parting in surprise as you lowered slowly, delicately, his size stretching you.

You gripped his shoulders, fabric bunching up in your hands. Your thighs were shaking from the effort it took to descend patiently. Even with how wet you were, his hot length dragged against your insides, another inch being enveloped in your tight heat.

"Nng, its--so big", you breathed shakily, eyes glistening again. Art observed your pained expression in awe, smirking and winking at your compliment.

Two hands held your hips tightly, fingers digging in to the delicate flesh. You sighed delightedly at the contact, not at all preparing yourself for the sinister spark in the clowns eyes, before he slammed your hips down into his forcefully, tearing through you and settling within you to the hilt.

You cried out woefully, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as a pained sob was wrought from you. He could feel you shaking against him, panting against his ear, and couldn't help but chuckle nastily at your pain.

"W-wait, I need to adjust--", you began softly, voice quivering, but was given no time as Art lifted you up to the tip then dropped you back down. Your soft ass slapped against his lap, a horrible pain mixing with pleasure inside of you.

"It hurts! You're too big--!", you whined pitifully, tears dripping from your eyelashes. You gripped around his neck hard, body contorting in pain, shallow breaths hitting his ear.

Art knew this. You were so tight he had to grit his teeth, but he revelled in the concoction of pleasure and pain that wracked your body. You were too weak to fight him, trying to lift yourself off of him only to collapse back down, crying out as he filled you again. He could feel your tears soaking into his costume, and it made his cock fill with blood.

You were so full, the stinging sensation unbearable, and as he lifted you again, dragging your sodden hole off of him, he thrust up into you, letting your hips drop as he met you halfway and slid in.

A surprised moan was torn from your lips, a boiling heat enveloping your body as pleasure tingled and spread throughout your nerves. Art enjoyed your pitiful, pained cries, but he knew that the pain began to melt away as your breathing went from shallow, pained pants to breathy exhales.

The stinging became a dull sensation in the background, your insides igniting blissfully as those strong hands lifted you up once more, sliding all the way out before filling you up rhythmically.

"Mmm, Oh-", you moaned breathily, lips permanently parted. You no longer contorted your body awkwardly and instead began to melt against him, curling about his form needily.

Your hips began to take control, moving up and down his rock hard length, eyes closed against his shoulder as he emptied you and filled you over and over, thrusting up to meet your downward motions hard, filling you deep.

"Yes--Oh--", you couldn't stop the noises tumbling out. He wasn't even doing much, merely meeting your thrusts, but he was so big and long and thick and mouthwatering-

"Need more", you whined weakly, nuzzling your face against his neck, the fur of his Santa costume tickling your nose. "Please.", you added softly, thighs shaking so badly you didn't have the energy to lift yourself up fully.

Instead, you lifted your hips half heartedly, attempting to at least try, feeling that over whelming pleasure every time he thrusted upwards into you.

Each downward pull made you needy, and each thrust had you seeing stars. You could feel the grin on his face beside your cheek, body moving with silent chuckles. You were so responsive, feeling those big hands trail from your hips and down to your soft globes, pulling the cheeks apart.

You could feel your hole opening, feel his rigid length sinking in even deeper. You realised that he could probably see himself driving into you from the mirror reflection, your sopping core on full display as it sucked him in greedily.

You peered over your shoulder curiously, lidded eyes honing in on the mirror. The erotic visual had you writhing in his grasp, gnawing at your lip as he stared right back at you, lifting a hand to wiggle his fingers at you.

It was weirdly humiliating, but before you could turn away to nuzzle back into his neck and hide, his hand was brought down sharply in a loud slap upon one of your round cheeks.

You gasped, lips parting as your gaze remained frozen on his slowly retreating hand, waiting with bated breath, before it bared down upon your jiggling flesh again, and again, and again.

Your body jerked each time, a gasp escaping upon each impact, but your eyes couldn't leave the sight behind you, infinitely aroused at how displayed you were, at how massive he looked below you.

Art soothed the red handprints on your cheek with a gentle rub, looking at you in the mirror with mock concern, lips pouting out at you as though you were the cutest little thing.

You couldn't handle the embarrassment any longer, and turned back around to wrap your arms around his neck, thighs giving out below you. Two hands returned to your ass again, before gliding up into you faster this time, one thrust after another, drawing longer moans out of you.

The increase in pace made you writhe upon his lap, mewling in delight. You let yourself be manhandled, swiftly reaching down to grip two hands at the bottom of your t shirt and rip it over your head.

Your breasts bounced free, nipples teased against his body with each thrust, igniting a white hot sensation directly to your clitoris. You moaned a lot deeper this time, mouth below his ear, gasping and mumbling pleas.

Art reached a fist into your locks and wrenched your head back, hearing you wince and watching the sultry way you bit your lip at his rough actions.

You finally made eye contact with him, face to face, your complexion a dark pink. You put up no fight against his hold, even as he wrapped his fist tighter and pulled your head back hard. Your neck was bared, and you watched those charcoal eyes drop smoulderingly to your jiggling breasts.

His teeth attached themselves to your neck, biting and caressing the column of your throat, before finding an appropriate area and sinking his teeth in hard.

You cried out noisily, the sound pleasurable but stunted by pain, sounding more like a yelp. The harder he bit, the faster he fucked you, and you were soon delirious on the pain and pleasure, feeling his teeth latch on harder and harder until warm liquid oozed from the puncture of your skin.

Tears dripped from your eyes, cascading down your cheeks as you hiccupped and sobbed, your neck pulsating painfully. You didn't fight him, so caught up in the way he split you open.

The demonic clown paused, drawing back from your bruised and swollen neck, eyes flickering from the blood trickling down to your collar bone, and all the way up to your sparkling eyes, tears streaking your cheeks.

You winced, hair still wrenched back, moaning weakly at the pain, your breathing turning shallow again.

A hand cradled your jaw, thumb wiping a stray tear, and you couldn't help but nuzzle into the warm palm, comforting and big. It wasn't often he got to see your tears. The sight made him want to make you cry more, spill those fat droplets from your eyes.

Art tilted his head a fraction, inquisitive at your display of affection. You seemed to latch onto him, needing to be touched, gripping at him and melting against him. It was a far cry from your usual self.

His fingers moved down to the puncture wounds on your neck, pressing onto the tender flesh and making more tears spring from your eyes. It felt bruised and the skin was beginning to rise.

Blood dripped down your neck, and he used two fingers to swipe a clean line up your neck, coating his fingertips in the red substance.

Your eyes honed in on his crimson fingers, alight with need. Art tilted his head the other way, deciphering, and burned his gaze through your intimate display as you gripped at his hand and brought his fingers to your lips.

You suckled the tips, cleaning the crimson off of him, before taking his fingers into the back of your mouth, lathering them slowly.

Your own fingers dipped into the wound, wetting the digits red, before you hesitantly brought them towards his lips. His thrusting slowed, eyebrows lifting minimally, a shard of surprise running through him at your carnality. Your blood was alluring enough to halt his ministrations.

Finally, that dangerous mouth opened, slowly enveloping your smaller digits, tongue curling around them sinfully.

Your stare was unwavering, blinking from his mouth to his eyes before settling on those wretched depths. They swallowed you whole, scrutinizing your own visage. His smiling had long since ceased, a stern neutrality overcoming him even as you drew your fingers back and wrapped your arms around his neck to press your bloodied lips onto his.

The urge overcame you, tongues battling against one another messily. The remnants of your blood mixed between your lips, a soft moan of delight escaping you.

You never thought you'd be kissing this maniac. It sent heat coursing through you, borderline delirious from the feel of being so wrapped up in a being that was so dangerous.

Your passion resumed, hips lifting enough to feel the drag of his dick in your tight heat, before gliding back down with a light slap of your ass against his lap.

You were so wet it began to lather your inner thighs, dripping down your legs and coating his balls.

Your desire began to reignite, no longer a simmering heat and instead increasing to a boiling wave that overcame you. You grinded your hips, breaking your lips apart to gasp at his depth.

Art became watchful of your eager display, letting you pleasure yourself with his body. You leaned back, arms around his neck and extended straight so that you still had some leverage, and moaned wantonly as your position changed and his cock began to stimulate that lovable spot deep within you.

"Oh fuck--mmm--", your head lolled back, tits bouncing rhythmically as you increased your pace. You could barely hold your moans in now, overwhelmed by the pleasure of his length hitting you just right.

Art recognized the increase in your pitch and the way your body moved desperately upon his, and grinned. He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, gripping handfuls of your jiggling ass and beginning to meet your movements with his own, fucking up into you hard.

"Yes, right there, oh my god-", your legs were no longer folded below you, resting back on your knees. You had swiftly moved them, sitting fully into his lap now with your legs extended either side of his waist. This added even more depth to his movements. You could no longer grind your body against his, simply taking whatever he gave you.

"It's so deep, oh-" you began to quiver, needing so much more,  but all he could do was smirk down at you amicably, as calm as ever, watching you fall apart as each thrust directly pummelled into that spot.

You felt like ripping your hair out in frustration, body squirming upon his own in distress. Each thrust was like a shot of an addictive drug, filing you up and making you feel so high, but you needed that unrepressed carnality that you craved.

Shaking your head with a pinched expression of dismay, you leaned forward to wrap your arms fully around his neck once again, head resting on his shoulder as you whimpered.

His rigid length bruised against your cervix, hands on your hips and holding you down just to get that inch deeper. You were shaking, exhaling little 'ohh's into his neck, eyes squeezed shut.

"Don't care anymore; Need it harder", you whined pathetically, warming his neck with your hot breath; you were starting to crack. "Please fuck me. Need you so bad. Making me feel so fucking good-Oh--"

Your waist was gripped in a bruising force, lifting your body up and down like a pliant doll, fucking you vigorously. Your sweet admittance sent a thrill through his body, so he supposed out of the kindness of his heart, he could cease his teasing. For now.

Art gave you a lascivious smirk, eyes twinkling mysteriously. With a slight shrug and a nod, he seemed to silently agree with himself that it was time to get serious.

The world around you blurred as you were thrown onto the bed, hips forced into position. Your body bared itself on hands and knees and you tentatively peered upwards towards the mirror, fists clenching into the quilt in anticipation.

You watched the large, looming clown settle behind you, swallowing your body whole. With a playful wave at your watchful gaze, Art thrust forward and buried himself within you.

Your breath escaped your lungs in a silent gasp, body lurching forward from the force as he held you in place and began fucking you deep and fast.

He didn't tease you this time. Everything that had happened previously had been leading up to this moment, and it was mind shattering.

Repetitive 'uh's and 'ohh's sprung from you at each thrust, his cock splitting you open well and good just like you've craved for so long. He felt massive in this position, your velvety insides hot and tighter.

Gliding out until the tip, he'd push back in smoothly, coated in your arousal. It drove you wild, the lewd smacking of skin and wet squelching that increased more and more as he drove in faster, harder.

Your knuckles were white from how hard you gripped the bedding, unintelligible praises falling from your lips at the way he made you feel.

" 'm so full, oh my god-", you cried almost lovingly at the sublime feeling of him tearing through your snug heat, near enough bruising your cervix.

With a cynical pout down at you, mockingly awed by your kind praises of his ample size, Art reached forward to grab a fistful of your hair, wrenching your body backwards so your back bowed enticingly. It made your ass look rounder, made it jiggle and ripple more against his unrelenting thrusts. It hypnotized him, his cock rock hard.

Your upper body was suspended by the hand in your hair, and you could now clearly see how ravaged you looked in the mirror. The looming Santa behind you dwarfed your figure, all jagged smile and wiggling eyebrows at your pleasured expression.

Your tits bounced prettily in the reflection, witnessing the way his normally piercing gaze faltered and darted down to the erotic scene, before darting back up to your face. His smirk appeared lascivious at being caught, and he gave a comical, light shrug.

For some reason, an infernal fire roared within you at that; This creature was evidently attracted to your feminine form. It made you moan louder, reaching forward to play with your round globes teasingly, jiggling them with your incessant fondling, biting your lip at him in the mirror.

You were becoming feral for him.

Art cocked an eyebrow, head tilted in rampant interest at your display. That same jagged smile returned, and almost as a reward, he leaned forward and circled two calloused fingers over your sensitive clit.

Your reaction was instantaneous, legs shaking and body jerking at the intense pleasure. It made you nearly collapse forward if not for the grip in your hair, his cock still relentlessly spearing you.

"Fuck, just like that, ohh--", you cried blissfully, shuddering. Arts expression appeared sternly concentrated on your exclamations and the way your body sucked him in greedily. His thunderous expression was terrifying, but it only served to increase the heat within you tenfold, your body pliant and melting into his ministrations.

He shattered your equanimity, your mind turning to mush and only thinking of his thick hands and his fat cock-

Your thighs were violently quivering, struggling to not collapse. Your moans increased in pitch, high and breathless and weak.

" 'M so close, your cock feels so fucking good and I'm going to cum, im--ohh!"

Your body was roughly dropped, a violent hand forcing you into the bed. Your ass remained high while your cheek laid itself upon the blankets, face contorting in mindless, pleasurable relief as those murderous hands gripped at your hips and began fucking into you so expeditiously you wailed.

His heavy balls slapped your clit with each filling thrust, teasing the bundle of nerves to the point your knees began to quake, on the brink of collapse.

"Fuck, fuck!", you shrieked in repetitive succession, breathing erratically as his thick, long, veiny cock fucked you so good that you just burst-

Your knees did collapse this time, but firm hands kept your hips situated perfectly to receive his godly pistoning. With a high, keening noise you didn't know you could ever make, so desperate and whorish, your pussy contracted and gushed.

Your thighs were soaked and dripping, your bedding ruined. You could feel the way his grip tightened bruisingly on your hips at the feeling of your insides pulsating steadily, milking him, demanding he fill you up like you craved.

Your self consciousness and any semblance of pride were shattered into a million pieces at the mind numbing euphoria you felt. It enveloped your entire body in a blanket and made you feel like you were floating. Your insides fluttered intensely making your breathing erratic and short.

Your face was forced even further into the bed as you reached two arms back, planting a hand on either side of your round cheeks.

With a flushed, fucked out visage staring back at Art from the way your face was turned on its side, you spread your enticing cheeks apart, moaning. "Need you to fucking fill me, need you to fuck me so full please please-"

Art couldn't deny the intense arousal that shot through his body and engorged his cock unnaturally further. Your dainty fingers spread your cheeks so far apart he could see the way your hole split around his length, the muscles parting forcefully at his intrusion. Your virgin, tight puckered hole caught his attention the most, and he moved a thumb to rub the area tenderly, a promise that he'd make you scream yourself hoarse the day he managed to fit his cock into that narrow passage.

You'd cry, he'd make sure of it, and the thought and the visual in front of him was enough to have him seizing your hips so strongly that they would bruise, fucking you brutally and hearing your sobs of pain and pleasure, before his hips stuttered once, twice against your cervix and a flood of hot, ropey squirts painted your insides.

He filled you so deeply it made your body think it needed to pee, if only to expel the amount of cum within you. It was unnatural, but he wasn't a mortal. If anything, the absurd amount made you melt dreamily into the bed, thoroughly fucked and bred and satiated for the time being.

You felt the clown retrieve himself, sliding out with a lewd squelch. Your hole gaped and quivered, his cum oozing out of you messily and coating your thighs. You moaned pleasantly at the feeling of two fingers scooping out the sloppy mess, coating his fingers with it before pushing them into your mouth. You accepted the gift, a noise of delight escaping you.

It made you want to suck his cock and have him fill your mouth until you choked. The thought was arousing, clitoris pulsating lightly as you reached down and rubbed it in lazy circles.

His body moved behind you, two hands gripping your ass cheeks before a hot, long tongue nudged your fingers aside and lapped at your clit. You moaned wantonly, pushing your hips back into his ministrations, feeling that heat invade your abdomen again, signalling another orgasm.

"Oh God, fuck, your tongue feels so-feels so--", you cried out as two fingers sunk into you to the knuckles, pushing the sloppy cum back into your hole dirtily, all the while his tongue lapped at and lathered your clitoris, licking broad, rough stripes up the bundle of nerves until you were a whining mess.

"Fuck, fuuuck, don't know if I want your tongue or your cock more, mmm-"

Art chuckled into your sodden pussy, eyebrows low and sinister. You were shameless, your pleasure ridden brain void of anything else other than the need to be fucked dumb.

A high pitched cry of pleasure tore him out of his condescending thoughts about you, his mouth drenched in your splattering orgasm. His fingers curled within you, brutally fondling that area that had you outright weeping into the pillows.

Little 'too much!'s and 'stop!'s were cried out to him desperately, your body convulsing as though you were possessed. Wiping his mouth, Art sat back and admired his work.

You were panting, pleading in a high pitched, pathetic tone. Your body was overwhelmed, tired and bruised, and Art sat back on his knees and thought for a moment, hand to his chin.

His eyes rolled up to the ceiling in brief contemplation, and then he shrugged, situating himself behind you again.

You whimpered at the feeling of him forcing his sturdy cock into your puffy walls once more. The sound you made was strangled and weak, drool dripping down your chin shamelessly, body losing function of itself. You were crying openly, brought deeper and deeper into a submissive sort of headspace.

He grinned sharply, his cock hardening at the sight of your pathetic state. He bet he could make your body lose all inhibition and piss itself. You'd be so ashamed, and he'd make you lick the liquid off of his cock; a good girl for Santa.

He began to fuck you, patting your messy hair adoringly. You whimpered and wailed, pleading for more, pleading for less. But he found that he wasn't finished with you just yet. You wanted this, didn't you? You told him so yourself.

With a comforting stroke of your hair, Art smiled mockingly down at you, pouting his lips out at your cuteness. He couldn't go back on his word; he was going to fuck you until you couldn't walk.

Thrusting into you, your mouth opened in unbridled pleasure.

The comforting stroke of your hair turned sinister, gripping a fistful up to the root.

Your pretty, wet eyes stared back at him over your shoulder, lips quivering.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Epilogue

You had fallen unconscious. He had drawn orgasm after orgasm out of you to the point that you begged him to stop, crying so much that you couldn't breathe. Art adored your tears, awed and fascinated by them. The only reprieve you were given was your exhausted, slumped body falling soundly asleep. It was exquisitely blissful, but too much to bear.

You awoke with a weak groan, pushing yourself up to a seated position. You were naked in the blankets, but Art seemed to have the decency to clean you up slightly, your inner thighs dry and not at all the mess that they were a few hours prior. That was oddly sweet of him. And unexpected.

You wrapped a dressing gown around your body, wincing as you stood on shaky legs. Your insides felt battered and bruised, your hips dark with fingerprints. Making your way downstairs, your eyes were sleepy and lidded as you switched the kettle on to make yourself a coffee.

You had a moment of peace to yourself, or so you thought.

In came strolling that demonic clown, looking as fresh as a daisy and wide awake as he bounced preppily over to you, plonking his cup down beside yours in a silent request that he, too, wanted something hot to drink. Preferably hot chocolate.

He no longer adorned his Santa costume, instead dressed as he usually was in that monochromatic suit, face paint as immaculate as ever. He smiled down at you dazzlingly, or as brightly as a demonic entity could, patting your head like you were a golden retriever before grabbing the hot chocolate that you had barely stirred with your spoon and taking a seat at the table, newspaper in hand.

You eyed him warily, exhausted, and felt a small amount of embarrassment flourish within you at how normal he was acting and how drained you felt and looked and..

Not to mention the memories of last night either. You promptly locked them away in a box and threw away the key for now.

You reached up to grab a box of cereal from the shelf and sighed. You couldn't be bothered to eat right now, even though your stomach was grumbling noisily.

What you didn't expect was for a white hand to flash in your peripheral, grabbing it for you, before gripping your hips and spinning you to face him.

The pressure on your hips made you visibly wince, and Arts expression turned to one of shock, mouth an 'o' and eyebrows high. You frowned weakly at him before pushing his hands off of you with barely any effort behind it.

"Hurts." You pouted up at him, shaking your head lightly. You felt so weak, you really needed to replenish yourself and eat something.

Art cooed down at you, pinching your cheek lightly. You scowled now and moved away from him, thoroughly drained. He could sense that your usual fire had been doused at the moment, and held a finger up to represent a lightbulb moment.

Before you could contemplate it, you were picked up bridally and sped into the living room, making you squeal and giggle breathily. Art dumped you onto the settee, turning the TV on and putting on a horror film.

He jumped beside you, blanket covering both yours and his legs, and you couldn't help but smile dreamily at him.

He fucked you good and hard last night, and now wants to watch one of your favourite horror movies? What a gentleman. Art deadpanned at your bizarre expression, clicking his fingers in front of your eyes to snap you out of it. You only smiled wider, eyes crinkling.

"You know, you're sooo sweet when you want to be."

Art comically guffawed at your admittance, shaking his head swiftly to deny such a thing, lifting a finger to the side of his head and twirling it in a clockwise motion to signify you were crazy for ever thinking something like that.

The overly dramatic, rare expression had you giggling again, soft and sweet. Art rolled his eyes at you, waving you off as though to say 'yeah, okay, don't get used to it'.

Seeing this as a prime opportunity to tease, you were swiftly silenced as a slice of cake was shoved into your mouth. You don't know..where he got that, but he was a clown, after all, and it tasted edible.

Sighing contentedly, you chewed the sweet treat slowly, watching as the scene on TV displayed a possessed woman in the shower, scorching water melting her skin as she carved her mouth apart with glass.

You loved this movie, and Art seemed intrigued, cackling silently beside you. Wrapped up in the blanket, you leaned against him comfortably, and he seemed unperturbed by it, eyes honed in on the screen.

You don't know why he was being so gentle with you. Art never did things unless he wanted to, and that was enough of an answer for you; he simply wanted to act this way right now. Even still, it made you feel warm, and you supposed living eternally together wouldn't be so bad.

Well, that was until you fell asleep, awoken by the chill of having your thighs spread apart and cake smeared all over your puffy, abused folds.

"Art! What the hell are you doing?! I told you I'm in pain--"

Art chuckled evilly, leaning down to lick a gentle stripe up your icing covered lips, savouring the sweet taste.

Your breath hitched, but you still held your hands against his shoulders, faced etched with nervousness. "P-please don't. Can't..can't handle it right now."

Art tilted his head a fraction, staring up at you in awe. You had retracted to that submissive headspace again, and he found that he relished it. Repressing a cheeky grin, Art held his hands up placatingly, schooling his expression to one of neutrality, or rather barely masked amusement, and used his finger to draw an imaginary X over his heart.

"You mean you won't..be too much? Really? I'm having a hard time trusting you, you're literally grinning at me right now..." You huffed, expression incredibly wary.

Art covered his mouth with the back of his hand, teeth clenched as he grinned and laughed. Even still, he coughed once, face falling flat to prove he was.. moderately serious about being gentle with you.

In truth, he just wanted to eat your juicy pussy and hear you moan his name again. He bet he could get you to ask him nicely to fuck you.

For added effect, Art splayed his wide hands on your thighs and tickled the skin with either thumb, rubbing soothing circles into the flesh. Again, you had that dopey, dreamy expression on your face, and he began to think he really did damage your mind last night.

"Fine, just..be gentle, okay? I'm in no mood to quarrel today."

Art shrugged lightly. He kind of felt the same. It was refreshing hearing your soft voice instead of your screeching one of anger, or seeing your fluttering eyes at him rather than your stone cold ones.

Who knew that fucking you silly would make you so tame, so pliant. It was rather funny. Guess it proves that all you needed was a bit of dick to calm you down.

And Art was feeling surprisingly generous today. With a quirk of his lips, he settled between your thighs and placed them onto his shoulders.

Tongue darting out to lick up from your hole to your clitoris, he lathered the nub gently, lowering his lips to suckle it.

You gasped softly, widening your legs for him and biting your lip. The pleasure was instant, a heat boiling in your abdomen and fluttering down to your toes.

He was good at playing the part of devoted and gentle, and gripped at your hand delicately, lacing his fingers with your own in an intimate display. He watched you blush a pretty pink, mouth parting in awe at his uncharacteristic tenderness.

As you stared into his smouldering eyes, he smothered your clit beautifully, making you moan and buck your hips up into him.

He knew the moment your moans turned deep and sultry as he prodded a finger at your entrance, that you'd soon be backtracing your words and pleading with pouty lips that he fuck you gently.

There was an undeniable connection between you both; you were bound, after all, and even he wasn't immune to the effects of it. He'd still aggravate you, and absolutely wreak havoc on your wanting body, but he also rather enjoyed the peaceful tenderness of these moments, save for your breathy moans and the sounds of someone dying on the TV.

It made him feel peculiarly content. With a smirk into your sodden folds, Art thrust a finger into you deeply, standing between borderline pleasurable and 'too much', as you had said.

You had yet to berate him, he noted.

Within a few minutes, you were a mess down there, soaked and sticky with cake. He remained true to his word, not at all being rough, and instead holding you delicately in warm hands as he sucked and licked at your glistening folds.

"Art, it's the best part of the movie- Ah--"

He rolled his eyes at you, though did spare a single glance at the screen when he heard the sound of a chainsaw.

In no time, you were panting and reaching your peak, soft cry breathed into the air as his fingers curled and pumped into you, tongue massaging your clit. You gushed down his wrist, quivering.

Art smiled innocently up at your flustered self, imitating dabbing his mouth clean with a napkin. He jumped up and sprung beside you once more, pulling you into his sturdy lap and leaning back comfortably.

His eyes didn't leave the screen, fully focused.

You shifted, wiggling to get comfortable and felt his hard dick pressing against you. You bit your lip and glanced at him guiltily - you had just proclaimed that you were in pain today, and now you were having thoughts of him fucking you?

You settled back against him, flushed and buzzing with arousal. The film was almost over. Art grinned behind you, eyes ablaze with mischief. He knew what you wanted, but like you said, he was missing the best part of the movie.

Maybe if you're lucky, he'll fuck you later. But for now, you'd sit tiredly spent against his chest, chuckling at the brutal massacres on screen. More cake miraculously appeared, which always helped. It was pressed against your lips forcefully and you were more than happy to take it, humming in delight.

"Who'd have thought that you killing me all those years ago would evolve into this.", you smirked at him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "You're actually really cute. No idea how I never noticed it before." Your girlish expression lit up your face, eyes sparkling.

Art looked exasperated at your comment and shrugged. He smiled cheekily, pointing at himself as if to bashfully say "who, me?"

Your giggles rung throughout your home, his silent laughter making your body move. You felt a sense of contentment - a partner in crime to maim people with and to fuck you dumb.

Your eyes swirled black, corrupt and tainted, and promptly shut sleepily.

What could be better than this?

i need him so bad. this is pure smut. i made an epilogue to add fluffy things but it turned into smut 💀

also this isn't related to sporadic contingency at all, its just a standalone fic x

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Once Upon A December

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Summary: Of all the things your heart used to know, things it years to remember, Bucky Barnes is at the top of that list.

A.N. - I feel like you guys just haven't been made aware, but one thing about me, I love a good musical.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Anon's Birthday Celebration

Bucky softly swallows the air that seems to get more sparse as he thinks, truly thinks, about his latest conclusion. "I just - I think it's time."

His hands fold together, he hunches over, barely able to tear his eyes off the ground.

"I can't tell you what to do here, Buck."

"I know."

"Do what you think is best."

"Best?" He bitterly chuckles. "There is no best. I just - I'm hurtin' the both of us by holding on. And I don't want to hurt her anymore."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me."

"I feel so guilty every time I look at her." Bucky lightly gasps for air. "And God, I - Sometimes, I think that maybe that's the reason I'm the only one she doesn't remember."

Steve grips Bucky's shoulder, "Buck... it wasn't your fault."

"How do I let her go?" Bucky brokenly whispers. "How do I mourn the love of my life when I know she's right there, she's alive?"

Steve finds himself at a loss for words. There was no answer. Nothing he could say. It was a truly impossible situation. "I'm so sorry."

He shakes his head, clearing his throat, "I should go talk to her."

"I think she was in your - in her room."

Bucky winces at the correction. It wasn't their room anymore. Now, it was your room. He'd given you the space to try to regain that void in your memory.

And yet, it's all so painfully familiar. It's muscle memory. Walking to your room. Knocking on your door. The only difference is now, it doesn't feel like coming home, it feels more like the procession to his own funeral.

"James..." Your tone is flat, unsure as you open the door. He hates the guilt glistening in your eyes. He sees it every time you look at him. He hates that he's the one that made you feel that way.

When it first happened, when he first realized that he was nothing but a blurry figure dancing through your memory, he tried telling you.

He tried filling every detail of your epic love story in your mind. He tried forcing himself back into your memories. Nothing brought back the look of love and adoration in your eyes.

He offers a heavy smile, "Hi. Can I come in?"

You nod, stepping away from the door to allow him into his former home. The place looks the same, with the notable exception of the traces of him.

You settle on the couch. He sits on the small loveseat, perpendicular to you. "How are you?"

He licks his lips, offering a small shrug, "I start therapy in a few days again."

"Oh."

"What about you?"

Your voice is far more curt than you intend, "I didn't remember anything if that's what you're asking."

His heart stammers, "No. That's not what I meant."

"Sorry, I didn't sleep very well. Not that it's an excuse."

"Nightmares?"

"Just the same one." You're not sure how much detail he cares to hear, but the way he waits for you to continue is almost a comfort. Your eyes squeeze shut as the memory plays on a loop. "I - I don't remember the mission. Just bits and pieces. I was alone. On the rooftop. And then I see the HYDRA agent's face. When they push me. That's where the nightmare starts... I fall. It's dark. I can hear someone screaming my name. And it's over."

"You weren't alone on the roof."

"What?"

"I was on the roof with you. We were scoping out the area. They came out of nowhere."

Your eyes widen. It clicks. The sound of the voice screaming after you. It almost perfectly matches the timbre of his voice. Only now, his voice sounded strained, tried. "You were screaming my name."

Bucky nods, "I jumped after you. I didn't make it in time. I found you laying in your own blood."

"I'm sorry, James."

He hates the sound of his name so formal leaving your mouth. He can't help himself as he speaks, "You never used to call me that."

"Oh?"

A sad smile tugs at the corner of Bucky's mouth, "You only called me James when you were upset. Or when I was annoying you."

A light chuckle leaves your lips, "What did I call you when you weren't annoying me?"

"Bucky. Buck." He shrugs. He swallows the knot forming in his throat, his voice wavering, "A lot of pet names. I pretended to hate it, but I didn't."

You look up to see tears shining in his eyes. His voice breaks as he continues on, "You called me Sarge when you were joking or being flirty."

You reach forward, squeezing his hand. A tight knot forms in your throat, "I'm sorry I can't be the girl you remember."

He looks down at the warmth of your hand resting on his. He's acutely aware that this is the first time you've initiated contact with him since you forgot him.

He swallows back his tears, "You didn't take off your ring."

"It didn't feel right to." You start sliding the ring off, "I should probably give it back."

He immediately stops you, "Keep the ring."

"Steve said it was your mother's. I couldn't."

He shakes his head, his heart clenching with pain, "I won't need it."

You rest your hand on your chest. Your heart yearns to remember him, to remember his place in your life. It was right there. Like a word on the tip of your tongue. You could feel the memory of him glowing in the recesses of your memory, glowing as dim as an ember.

You were so close, and yet, it wasn't enough. "I want to remember. I so badly do."

He stroke a stray hair out of your face. Sitting this close to you, he takes a long moment to memorize every detail. The slope of your nose. Your eyes. Your lips. He knows he'll never be this close to you again.

He had to stop hurting you. He had to stop hurting himself.

"I know."

You rest your forehead against him. It feels both so foreign and so familiar all at once.

"Can I - Can I kiss you?" he asks. "Just one last time."

You nod, your heart shattering at the sound of the hurt in his wavering voice.

His flesh hand rests against your cheek. Your breath shudders, dancing across his lips. His nose brushes against yours. Once. Twice. You find yourself leaning forward, closing the distance. His lips brush against yours hesitantly at first. You can't help but notice the way they mold against yours perfectly.

The song that vaguely echoed in the back of your mind gets louder and louder, echoing with thoughts of him. The memory of him rattles against your skull, begging you to remember.

Your hand moves from its place on the cushion to his shoulder. Slowly, it creeps down to rest just above his racing heart. You hum against his lips, pulling yourself away from him.

You look up at him, your eyes shining up at him like they once used to. "Bucky?"

Bucky Barnes Masterlist Anon's Birthday Celebration

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[izels-writing]

r. lupin — i’m gonna be your wife

Pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

Summary: despite what happens, you’re going to marry remus.

Warnings: FLUFFFF, honestly no warnings it’s just cute, written in two hours so if it’s rushed or bad don’t judge me yall 😔

you weren't sure of a lot of things. if anything, your indecisiveness was an integral part of your personality. anyone who knew you, even if it was acquaintances, knew that making decisions or being sure of something was hard for you.

but there was one thing you were sure of.

you were going to marry remus lupin.

no matter what life threw your way, no matter how many hardships or bad people that entered your lives—you knew that he'd end up being your husband.

you understood each other in ways no one else would. you were there for each other. you gave each other support when the other needed it. it was a beautiful, once in a lifetime thing you’d never find again.

you had told lily this once, but she gave you an unsure look—likely thinking you were crazy. it wasn't like you'd do something to ensure that you and him ended up together, you just knew it would happen. your interference wasn't needed.

now, the one person you'd never bring it up to is remus. he was unsure of dating you as it was, due to his furry little problem. you didn't want to mention the idea of possibly spending the rest of your lives together, because you knew how squirrelly he could be about love.

you had days where you doubted your assurance of knowing you'd marry him—you knew that was normal for anyone. but it always came to the same conclusion.

it'd happen anyway.

——

madam pomfrey let you inside as you stepped forward carefully with remus' tea and biscuits. being a student assistant for your school nurse certainly had its perks—getting to ensure your boyfriend actually ate was one of them.

you ambled over carefully to his bedside, placing the tray down as you sat on the chair next to him. he smiled weakly at you.

“how’re you feeling?” you asked softly.

“same as always,” he chuckled. you knew the humor was just a front.

“well, want some tea and biscuits?” you smiled.

he smiled. “sure,” he replied as he sat up and adjusted himself into a sitting position.

you placed the tray on his lap and sat back down, smiling as he ate slowly. he picked up his tea and went to take a sip before looking at you for a second.

“two sugars, a dash of milk, just how you like it,” you sighed, playfully rolling your eyes. he nodded in satisfaction and took a sip, savoring the taste of his tea.

“have you done your DADA homework?” he asked. your eyes widened.

“that would be a no,” he chuckled. “do you want help with it?”

you sighed. “yes, please. i don’t understand why i need it to graduate,” you groaned.

remus just laughed at you as you stood to get your school bag from one of the empty cupboards, bringing it back over to him. you enjoyed when he helped you with your homework—he never made you feel stupid or lesser. he knew how smart you were, no matter how much convincing it took for you to think the same.

it was a sweet thing you two did together after full moons. you’d care for him, he’d help you with homework or whatever advice you needed. funnily enough, this was also what brought you two close together in the first place to the point of being together for two years now.

you sat beside him on the bed, facing him—showing him the work you’d done so far, allowing him to survey it before he begun his mini-tutoring session.

he loved that about you. the fact that you didn’t see him as weak or unable after full moons like his friends. he didn’t blame them, frankly he knew he didn’t look his best, but he hated feeling weaker than them. you played to his strengths.

“okay, well half of this is right and the other half is…not…” he chuckled. you groaned, throwing your forehead down to his chest.

“can you just do it for me?” you pleaded, looking at him pitifully.

“unfortunately, i can’t, love,” he grinned. “you have to know this stuff to be a healer,”

“bloody hell,” you groaned.

——

after two hours of what you presumed to be torture, though remus would disagree, you talked and played board games with the physically exhausted boy. you both enjoyed spending the day together, even if you confined to one room throughout the entirety of it.

you placed down your piece after drawing the card, glancing up to find remus smiling at you—almost admiringly. you chuckled, “what?”

“nothing…” he chuckled back.

“come on,” you laughed, swatting his arm. “what is it?”

“you just…i hope you know how much i appreciate you and how much easier you make the hard days,” remus mumbled shyly.

you smiled. “of course, that’s what girlfriends do,”

he grinned, wincing as he started pulling himself up to cup your face. “i love you, y/n,” he whispered.

“i love you too,” you smiled, closing the gap between you both.

——

“and so, dorcas and emmeline are currently fighting because of that…” you concluded. because if there was one thing you and remus loved to do together—it was gossip.

“because of a hair product?” he questioned in annoyance.

“i know! i suppose it’s the principal or whatever, i dunno,” you shrugged.

“that reminds me of that one time james and peter didn’t speak to each other for a week over a quill,” remus snickered. “merlin, you should’ve seen the look on their faces when they realized sirius had it,”

you laughed. “i can only imagine,”

a few pairs of footsteps rushed inside and you both furrowed your eyebrows humorously at each other, craning your necks to catch sight of whoever was walking in.

suddenly, three boys appeared at your boyfriends bedside.

“hello, mister and misses lupin,” james grinned, greeting you both.

“hello, james,” you chuckled, sliding off of remus’ bed so the three of them could talk to him. “you guys want tea?”

“no, they’re fine,” remus said, glaring at them to dare to say anything more. they didn’t.

“great, ‘cause i ran out of tea earlier anyway,” you chuckled. “i’ll be back,”

it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy hanging out with remus and his friends, because frankly you really did. they were a fun group and they were kind to you. but you also didn’t want to be that overbearing girlfriend who constantly hung around—so you immediately went to finish up restocking madam pomfrey’s stuff.

after an hour or two, the sun had gone down and the boys had returned back to their dorm without remus. obviously due to the fact that he was there for 48 hour care. though he didn’t show it, the full moon took a lot out of him.

you quickly returned to his bedside, smiling at his droopy state.

“tired?” you asked.

“very,” he chuckled. “you?”

“oh yeah,” you replied sarcastically, “stocking really takes the energy out of me,”

remus laughed. “alright, i was just asking, you twat, no need to be so sarcastic about it,”

you chuckled and sat down on the chair beside his bed. “no, truthfully though, i am a bit tired. i’ll wait until you’re asleep to go lay down though,” you smiled, squeezing his hand comfortingly.

“why wait?” he smirked.

you raised an eyebrow. “what do you mean?”

he scooted slightly, turning slightly to the side, before patting the spot next to him. luckily for you, you had changed into pajama pants and a tank top earlier—once the clock struck 8:30.

you laughed, rolling your eyes playfully, before crawling into his bed. you curled up next to him, laying face to face with the boy.

“careful, i could fall asleep here,” you joked.

“go ahead,” he grinned, kissing your forehead.

bonus;

remus sighed, bringing a hand to his face as he looked over the bills and debts owed. he felt terrible, having to constantly budget and decide whether to have a full fridge or a new stove. economically, it hadn’t been easy for you two.

and you didn’t deserve this, he knew that deep down. you deserved those pretty necklaces you eyed in the store but never commented on.

you knocked on the room of your shared office space in your house, smiling at your husband kindly. “what’s the damage, mr. lupin?” you chuckled.

“the same as always,” he sighed. you frowned slightly at his worry lines and his stressed out look. you hated seeing him like this.

you ambled over to him, sitting on his lap. you kissed his lips softly, massaging his head gently. he closed his eyes slowly, leaning into your hands. you kissed his face softly—in efforts to comfort him.

you never cared that you struggled with money, as long as you had him, things didn’t seem so bad. he tried his hardest and that was all that mattered.

“how about me and you watch a movie and eat some popcorn? the kids just went to sleep, so i figured we could have some adult time,” you chuckled, kissing his jaw slightly.

he chuckled. “i’d enjoy that a lot,”

he looked up at you, starry-eyed and lovingly and for a second, all of your worries slipped away. you smiled sheepishly, “what?”

“thank you for making the hard days easier,” he said, kissing your neck softly.

“of course,” you grinned. “it’s what wives do,”

[ghettogirly]

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐂:

⇨ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄!

-> synopsis: to which you’re his bestfriend’s lover, but that doesn’t stop him from getting what he wants.

[🕷️] warnings: mature themes, mentions of alcohol, mature language, sex, fingering, kissing, infidelity, Armando is a shit friend!

Authors note: First time writing smut in a long time. Bear with it. Let me know if you guys want a Part Two!

Minors DNI.

The mini tavern was bustling with energy as people chattered away, drinks and drinks flooding the tables. People felt free the more alcohol they took, letting the drug overpower their body as their conscious state slowly fades into a drunken mess. The shouts would the house, the rough echoing of the footsteps along the wooden floor were the main sounds of the room due to the groups high excitement.

However, one man was not in the same mood as the others. Focused on something else.

Armando’s deep, brown eyes were in a trance as you walked across the room, glistening in mesmerisation as you began to sit down next to your boyfriend. He could tell you wasn’t happy, the spark in your eyes being no more from the start of the relationship where he first was introduced to you. Your lack of interest in your boyfriend’s conversation with another man. Initially, you both didn’t really talk. He just nodded to you and then whisked your boyfriend away for a “private conversation”. You hoped for more of a reaction from your lovers best friend, disappointed by the plain, uninterested response from him.

You came to the conclusion that he didn’t like you. But, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

He loathed your boyfriend, believing he didn’t deserve to be with someone like you. You were innocent, loving and was worth way more than someone who constantly disrespected you. On his mind 24 hours a day, obsessive thought clouded his mind. He couldn’t fathom how amazing you were as a person.

Unfortunately, you didn’t see it yourself.

Snapping back into the room, Armando notices you sitting there alone. Sick and tired of your boyfriend’s mistreatment, he decides to walk over to you and sit by your side.

“Where did he go?” Armando asks while taking a sip of his drink, preparing to be slightly amused by whatever excuse you’re going to use for his disappearance. However, something is different. You look at him with a lack of love in your eyes, your face clearly tired as you succumb to your emotions of disappointment. “I don’t even know.” Y/N exhales.

Silence fills the moment between you two for a minute before the male opens his mouth, “Why are you still with him?”

This clearly catches the girl off guard, shocked by the lack of loyalty from the leader who preaches devotion to his followers and workers. Nevertheless, Y/N responds to him. “I don’t know anymore.”

Armando scoffs, rolling his eyes at your answer. However, an expression of pity seems to cascade down his face. “I could be better than him mi cariña.”

Y/N looks up at him in shock, the man you thought who hated you just confessed his longing of wanting to replace your lover. The male stood up, casting a shadow over you as he blocked out the dim, warm light illuminating from the lantern which hung off the ceiling. He held out his hand,

“Come.”

[🕷️]

The red, velvet sheets comforted you as you slightly exhaled at the little touches of his lips that littered all over your body, they savoured every crevice of your smooth skin, holding you close, not wanting to let you go. Your back slightly arched at the feeling of his hand helping his lips explore your body, the cold touch contrasting with the warm sensation that was now growing in your body making the tiny hairs on your body stand up.

He watches your reaction, captivated by the way your body responds to him. He dips his head and takes your right nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before biting down on it softly causing you to gasp at the feeling. “You like that?”

“Mhm..”

He continues to tease and caress your breasts, alternating between rough and gentle touches to gauge which one you prefer. He moves his hand slowly down to the waistband of your pants, before slowly stopping and looking into your lustful eyes. “Am i allowed?” He asks, his smooth mexican accent filled with desire.

“Please do..” you whisper to him, biting your lip in eagerness as you want him to please you more. He wastes no time. His hands move lower and lower before slipping underneath your panties, slowly sliding them off you and throwing them onto the floor. Finding your clit, he starts rubbing it gently, increasing his pressure as he feels it pulsating at his touch. “Fuck..”

His hand moves faster and faster as he feels you getting wetter, his own desire growing stronger by the second. Leaning in, he kisses you fiercely his tongue invading your mouth as you moan into it, running your hands slowly through his hair.

He slips one finger in. Then two.

You gasp at the bold move, moaning slightly as he stretches you out. The warmth in you increases as you become closer and closer to the edge. He begins to move his fingers in and out, you justices coating his tan, slim fingers as they hit that special spot inside of you repeatedly that has you squirming underneath him.

“F-fuck, i’m so close.” “Oh my god!” Your endless babbling at the pleasure brings music to his ears, smiling down at you as you come close to your orgasm. “That’s it baby..”

The male then goes straight back down to your neck, sucking on your delicate skin to create purple and red marks while he continues to finger you. This causes you to see stars, that being the final straw which causes you to cum all over his fingers, your juices dripping down them as your toes curl. “Fucking hell..”

“This night isn’t over yet.”

Oh shit.

[taintedtort]

"i think i’m in love with you," kyotani blurts, not being able to hold the words in any longer. he’s blunt, he always has been, he always says what he’s thinking. well… unless you’re involved, you get him all tongue tied and soft. he hates it. for the longest time he didn’t know why you made him feel like this, but finally he came to the conclusion that he likes you, loves you, even.

your constant babbles and attempts to befriend him got on his nerves at first, but you stuck around. you kept trying even after he pushed you away and said mean things. you’re always the one that sticks by him and stands up for him, even when he’s done something wrong.

he hates feeling vulnerable or anything similar to it, so he took a while to finally accept that he has feelings for you. he wasn’t gonna say anything at first��� but the words just came out, he said them without really thinking. he shakes himself out of his thoughts, waiting for your reaction with narrowed eyes.

you‘re silent for a couple seconds, just staring at him in… shock? surprise? disgust? he isn’t sure. he really hopes it isn’t the last one though.

"what?" finally comes your reply, your eyebrows scrunched in confusion. his heart immediately drops. he really messed things up. he mentally curses himself, feeling stupid for letting the confession slip out.

"i— nothing, i just thought… you felt the same. never mind, forget it," he shakes his head, his words a bit bitter. had he read you wrong? everyone on the team always tells him you obviously have a crush on him. he brushed it off for a while, but he’d held onto the hope… till now. he feels so stupid—

"no! i mean— yes! i do!" you suddenly blurt, your hand shooting out to grab his shoulder, forcing his attention back on you and pulling him out of his thoughts. "i just didn’t expect you to say that, i’m sorry," you apologize, feeling rude for your delayed reaction.

he stands stunned for a moment, not really sure what else to say. you like him back, that’s good… now what? a kiss feels like too much, too soon. he did just confess that he’s in love with you though… that was probably too soon.

"kyotani?" you say, pulling him out of his thoughts once again. he’d been staring dumbly for several seconds, and suddenly you’re much closer than before, your hand still on his shoulder.

"go on a date with me," he states, not even asking. when he wants something, he just takes it.

he watches once again as your eyebrows go up in surprise, but a smile quickly forms on your face. god, he loves your smile, he always has.

"okay, sure." ♡

☆ i love him, but no one really writes for him!! figured i would, hopefully some other kyotani lovers see this ^^ (i wasn’t sure how to end this, can you tell? lol)

[yandere-sins]

Yan-Poll #16

Your stalker has a severe problem.

That's the conclusion you came to as you opened the door for the fifth time that day to another mailman handing you three more packages. Your living room had become unlivable, a space cluttered with cartons and the unopened remains of packages. At some point, you stopped opening them, but now they were collecting dust and destroying the comfort in your own home.

At first, curiosity had gotten the better of you. Amongst inappropriate gifts like underwear and... toys, there had actually been some useful presents. You secretly kept all the gifts that had been on your to-buy for a while and openly threw away the disgusting ones. You knew better than to accept the stalker's gifts, but since they were valuable, you couldn't help but hold on to some of them.

That was your mistake.

But looking at the neatly stacked packages, spreading from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, you realized your stalker had lost all control. You noticed brand names on the brown packages that you had only glanced at briefly while scrolling through your phone—expensive ones, too. At this point, you feared you couldn't look at anything anymore without it inevitably being sent to your home. You thought you had this situation under control, but apparently, you hadn't.

>> did you like the new necklace?

Heaving a deep sigh you looked at the countless messages, a new one popping up right on time of the delivery. Whoever he was, he was always watching. Though you ignored his constant string of texts—asking about your day, how you were feeling, confessing his love to you, wondering if you would wear his latest gifts—you knew this couldn't go on for much longer.

<< please stop

>> you finally responded :)

<< this needs to stop, I don't need all this junk!

>> but do you like it? i know you kept some of them

Biting your lip, you cursed yourself. Of course he'd notice that you didn't discard everything. That probably only encouraged your stalker to keep sending you more and more, wherever he got the money to afford it. Part of you thought, "Whatever! If he wants to blast through all that money, so be it! Might as well enjoy it!" but what about your morals?

You've been fighting so hard to live a normal life despite having this stalker. The police had given up since he was just too good at hiding his tracks, but he seemed to know everything and always be present in your life. If you let him continue like this, who knows what kind of trouble—legally and morally—you'd get into. What if this was his way of making you dependent and comfortable? This person had no qualms about intruding on your life, but what if he finally snapped? What would happen then? How much worse could this situation get?

<< anyway this needs to stop NOW

>> fine. let's make a deal: i'll send you one more gift >> if you hate it, i'll stop. but if you like it...

<< then what?

>> you'll see ;)

Your finger hovering over the keyboard of your phone, you thought about what your stalker could possibly mean. There was a good chance it would be a gift you liked, and he'd feel confident in the choices he made regarding you. But at the same time, what if it was a god-awful present? What if it was downright horrible? How far would he go, and could you possibly stomach the consequences of his actions because you allowed him to?

<< what if I refuse?

There was no answer this time. It was strange. You were starting to really get paranoid that he was plotting something terrible.

(Reasoning and discussions welcome! ♥)

[ineffectualdemon]

I've been thinking about it

And I don't think what's needed to actually fix Shen Jiu and Yue Qingyuan's relationship is Yue Qingyuan confessing why he didn't make it in time unless it was immediately when they met at the conference

Because that's not what sets Shen Jiu on his path.

What set Shen Jiu down the road he traveled and ruined all his interpersonal relationships was that he briefly wished Yue Qingyuan had died rather then forgot him

And he was so horrified by having that thought that he decided he was born rotten and was a monster from birth. Because only a monster would think like that.

Some people were rotten from birth. Shen Jiu thought of himself in exactly this way - someone vile and poisonous from the start. Because, at that instant, he came to a crystal -clear realization:

That he's rather have met a Yue Qi who'd died in some unknown corner, his remains unsightly and forgotten, then a Yue Qingyuan who was elegant and powerful, his prospects and future boundless."

SVSSS English translation Vol 4 Pg 95

Later when Yue Qingyuan talks to Shen Jiu in the water prison they have this moment:

"Has Shidi ever considered that, if you hadn't treated Luo Binghe like that in the beginning, everything that unfolded today would never have happened?"

Shen Qingqiu burst into laughter. "Why does Zhangmen-shixiong say such ludicrous things? What's happened has happened! I've already 'considered' it hundreds and thousands of times! There is no 'if', no 'in the beginning' —there was never any chance of redemption!"

SVSSS English translation Vol 4 Pg 111

He doesn't see this going in any other way because how could it if he was "rotten from birth" he was always a monster in his mind so to him suggesting there were other options is silly.

When he sees how this breaks Yue Qingyuan's heart he accepts that Yue Qingyuan had done all he could and any debt had long been repaid. But it's what he says next that really says a lot about himself

"You should go," said Shen Qingqiu. "I'll tell you this: Even if all of this could be redone from the beginning, in the end, the conclusion would remain the same. My heart is full of malice, my insides hatred and resentment. Today Luo Binghe wishes for me to die horribly, and I have only myself to blame."

SVSSS English translation Vol 4 Pg 112

He's saying it this way to push Yue Qingyuan to give up on him. Shen Jiu knows he's been cruel and abusive and feels he earned his fate. Which of course he would. He killed his own abusers with his own two hands. He understands Luo Binghe's motivations and reasons and doesn't see how it could have gone any different.

Because he sees himself as an inherent monster from birth and he was projecting that same monstrosity onto Luo Binghe from the beginning.

Yue Qingyuan confessing wouldn't have fixed their relationship unless it had been in the first instant when they met again. If he had said "I was too late" instead of "Qi-ge let you down" that might have changed things. But once Shen Jiu thinks he would have preferred Yue Qi to have died then become Yue Qingyuan and soar above him Shen Jiu was doomed.

The only way to fix their relationship from that point is for Shen Jiu to confess and confront the fact that the person he is angry with and hates is himself and that he's trying to push Yue Qingyuan away for that reason.

Unfortunately in PIDW canon he was only able to do this in the water prison and he still tried to push away Yue Qingyuan (who offered to let Shen Jiu kill him??? I had forgotten that bit) to save him from Luo Binghe.

I was thinking about this because I remembered a post that someone wrote about Shen Qingqiu getting truth serumed but it exposing his real feelings not like hidden identities. Like he insults Airplane and then says "I actually enjoy your company and your writing when you focus on your world building and plot but I had how you squander your potential."

And that was obviously talking about Shen Yuan

But I think that sort of thing would actually fix a lot of Shen Jiu's interpersonal relationships but he'd be mad as hell about it. Again it would have to happen before Luo Binghe hit the sect but if he could voice and confront those self beliefs then there is the slightest chance he could be persuaded that he's wrong by the right person

But yes. The thing about Shen Jiu is by the time Luo Binghe meets him he is well and truly a monster. But he's a monster because he decided he was one inherently and that he was incapable of changing that fact about himself.

Shen Jiu was right. Going back wouldn't have changed anything because Shen Jiu doesn't believe himself capable of change.

Something would have to break through that self hatred and make him believe he can be better. That he doesn't have to live like that.

And Yue Qingyuan confessing wouldn't do that. It would just make the self hatred worse.

[bloatedandalone04]

Romance is (not) Dead

➪the one where ethan is your boyfriend and you’re his alibi.

Warning: spoilers for scream vi, blood, swearing, making out, mentions of blood, mentions of death, character death, you're literally dating a killer, mentions of smut, possessive ethan, lowkey yandere ethan

Word Count: 4.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

Man, did you hate frat parties. Especially the one you were at now. 

These ones were the worst; the loud music, the smell of booze and smoke, the overly confident (and unbelievably unattractive) men, the horrid dancing. 

No fucking thanks.

Maybe you weren’t like most college students as you didn’t enjoy partying all that much and would rather stay in studying or watching whatever movie you felt like that night, but what can you do? 

This was definitely not your scene. 

And it was definitely not your boyfriend’s scene, either. 

You slouched against the uncomfortable cushion of the couch, your arm pressed to Mindy’s as the space was limited. Anika’s legs were draped over both yours and her girlfriend’s as they talked between themselves, effectively cutting you out of the conversation you didn’t want to take part in to begin with.

Looking around the room, you tried to locate Ethan and came to the conclusion that he was no longer in it. He and Chad must’ve wandered off in search of alcohol or something else to keep them entertained. 

You tip the cup in your hand, seeing that it was still half full, and reach over to put it on the table beside the couch. Standing up, you push Anika’s legs off yours and wince at the cracking sound that came from your knee. 

Had you really been sitting for that long?

“Hey,” Anika called out to you once she felt the push you gave her legs. “Where are you going?”

Mindy answered for you, “Probably to go find her boyfriend,”

You shrugged, paying no mind to the teasing wiggle of her brows. “What if I am?” You ask, matching her tone. “What, you’re the only one allowed to get any action tonight?”

Mindy raised her hands in defense. “Hey, I’m not judging,” she said. “And TMI, by the way.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your jacket from off the couch. “I had to sit next to you two making out every five minutes and I’m the one who is giving out too much information?”

Mindy looked at Anika then back at you. “Point taken,” she agreed and wrapped her arm around Anika’s shoulders. “Go on, then.”

Shaking your head, you bid them both a goodbye and take off in search of your boyfriend. You find him in another room with Chad, and already you could see that his roommate was trying to boost his confidence. 

You lean against the doorframe and watch as Chad pushes Ethan forward and towards a group of girls. A heat burns in your bones as Ethan shakes his head and turns away, only to be pushed back by Chad, this time with his arm around his shoulders as he did the talking for him.

It was as if Chad didn’t care that Ethan had a girlfriend, you, and wanted him to talk, and probably flirt, with as many girls as he could without you being in the room.

Fucking Chad.

The girls laughed at whatever Chad said to them before turning away from the guys, no longer engaging in a conversation with them. 

You smirk to yourself at that. Ethan really didn’t know how to flirt, and it was a miracle he somehow worked up the courage to ask you out a year and some ago. 

Ethan went to the same high school as you, and in your senior year he built up enough confidence to ask you out on a date. Well, sort of. He saw you rummaging around your locker and walked up to you, a folded piece of paper in his hand. When you noticed the cute boy from your English class leaning on the locker next to yours, you offered him a smile. He smiled back before handing you the note and you took it from him, a quirk in your brow as you read the messy handwriting. 

It was one of those cheesy I like you, will you go out on a date with me? questions, completed with two boxes, one for yes and one for no. 

You shook your head and reached up, grabbing a pen off the top shelf of your locker. Scribbling a quick check mark onto the box next to the yes, you hand the paper back to him and watch as a smile forms on his face and from then on it was history.

You were brought back to reality when your eyes met his and you can see the excitement swimming in the brown irises, his roommate quickly forgotten about as he walked away from him and towards you. 

He took off the cheap head piece of his costume and held it in one hand, using his other to make a mess of his flattened out hair. 

Once it was a perfect mess of curls, he stood before you in all his glory. “Hey, hotness,” you greet him, crossing your arms as you continue to lean against the door frame. It was as if the whole house had quieted down just for the sake of you starting a conversation with your lover, and you nodded at the group of girls that had obviously turned down his unwanted advances. “New girlfriends?”

Ethan shook his head, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “Yeah, right,” he answered, towering over you and looking you up and down. He was with you when you dressed yourself in the angel costume that included a white dress, wings and a halo, as you got ready at his place and walked to the party together, but that didn’t change the fact that you looked unbelievably hot, even more than usual. You had long since ditched the accessories, now only being left in the dress, fishnet stockings and your black ankle boots. “You know, I think Chad does a better job at embarrassing me rather than boosting my confidence.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head as you tug him closer by the waistline of his pants. “Poor you,” you murmur, tilting your head up so you can look him in the eye. “Guess you’ll just have to settle for me.”

Ethan gave you a sly smirk, leaning down to reduce the gap between the two of you. “Who’s settling for who?”

You shake your head with a grin, draping your arms around his shoulders and leaning up on the tips of your toes. Pressing your lips to his, you kiss him slowly, unknowingly taking his breath away and he drops the headpiece to grip your waist, pushing you closer to the frame. 

Space became limited between the two of you and you had no room to arch your back like you normally did, so you settled on pressing flat up against the wood, your hands tugging Ethan closer by his biceps. 

If there was one thing you loved most about him, it was the confidence he gained whenever he was with you. He was his true self when he was alone, or in this case, ignored with you. No one paid any attention to you, continuing their conversations or just walking past one of the many couples making out. It was like the world became just the two of yours and everyone else didn’t matter anymore. 

With that being said, you would much rather be doing this somewhere more private, preferably in the comfort of his apartment as you knew Chad wouldn’t be there, but that still didn’t stop you from deepening the kiss by gripping the sides of Ethan’s face and tilting your head for better access. 

In the midst of it all, you don’t notice the quiet, hardly audible thud of your green jacket falling to the floor as Ethan twists the fabric of your white dress in his hands. His tongue runs along the length of your lower lip, and before you could part it from your top one, Ethan is tugged away slightly by Chad.

He muttered something about Tara and then he was gone, disappearing further into the house. 

Ethan sighed out of annoyance and lifted his hand to wipe away the smeared lipstick from your chin, his thumb lingering on your bottom lip before he took your hand in his, following the path that Chad cleared. You couldn’t wipe the giddy smile from your face as you place your free hand on your boyfriend’s forearm, allowing him to guide you in whatever direction he believed Chad took off in.

That wasn’t your first heated make out at a party, and it wouldn’t be your last, but it still left you breathless and with an ache that you only wanted Ethan to relieve. 

However, when you see the concerned look that both Anika and Mindy wore, you quickly forget about your own needs and instead ask, “What is going on?”

“We’re trying to stop Tara from going upstairs with this loser,” Mindy told you, her eyes never leaving the man beside your friend. Chad was on the first step while Tara and the guy were a few above him, and she was doing a really bad job at acting like she wanted to go anywhere with this guy.

“I’m fine, guys,” Tara insisted, though you could still hear the doubtfulness in her voice. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Tara, don’t go with him,” Chad said, daring to move onto the second step.

“Yeah, just come back to the party,” you add, lacing your fingers with Ethan’s. “It is downstairs, after all.”

What happened next happened in a blur. Tara was tugged back on the steps, causing her to fall over, Chad pulled the guy away from her, Sam showed up out of nowhere and tased him in his…well, let’s just say that the area she tased him in had him on the floor within seconds. Tara yelled at her older sister and fled the house and everyone followed them outside. 

Before you could leave the house, Ethan told you to stay by the door while he went to go grab something. When he returned with your jacket in his hands, you didn’t bother holding back the smile that took over your face as he threw it over your shoulders before taking your hand again. 

You probably would’ve forgotten it had he not gone back for it, and you couldn’t be more grateful as the temperature you were met with once you stepped outside wasn’t exactly warm. At this point, you didn’t care about the whereabouts of the rest of your costume as they were cheap accessories that could easily be replaced, so you didn’t mind leaving them behind. 

You met back up with the group just as Sam got a drink thrown at her and been called a murderer by a group of girls. After yet another bicker between the sisters, Tara walks off with the others following behind her, leaving Sam to stand by herself. 

As you begin to tug Ethan in the direction of the others, he stops beside Sam, fumbling around in his pocket for something. “Here,” he said, holding the white fabric up. “Sorry, I only have, like, three tissues.”

You held back a laugh as Sam grabbed them from him, glaring at the two of you as she uselessly wiped at her soaked chest. Tugging on his hand again, you leave her behind as you walk the short distance back to his apartment. 

When you were in the privacy of Ethan’s room, you shrug off your jacket and sit down on his bed, leaning against the headboard and stretching your legs out in front of you. “Chad’s not home,” you point out the obvious and make sure to have a sultry tone to your voice. 

“No, he’s not,” Ethan replied, taking off the rest of the knight costume and dropping it by the growing laundry pile by the desk. “He probably went to check on Tara at her place.”

You nod as he sat next to you, his fingers trailing down your legs until they reached the zipper of your boots. “So, what I’m hearing is,” you trial off as he unzipped your boots and slid them off of you. He had his eyes on your legs, focusing on his task of ridding you of as many articles as he could, but the curve in his brow told you he was listening. “We’re all alone?”

Ethan dropped your boots to the floor, the thud sounding throughout the quiet room as he nodded, meeting your eyes. “Mhmm,”

You lean back on your elbows, watching as he moved so he was hovering over you. “We should really go see if she’s okay,” you say but make no move to stop what is bound to happen if one of you doesn’t pull away within the next few seconds. “You know, just to be sure.”

Ethan hums in agreement, situating himself between your legs, his hand sliding up your dress to tug at the hem of the stockings. “Yeah, we probably should go check on her,” he mumbled as he ghosted his lips over yours. “And the others.”

“Agreed,” you nearly whisper as your hands tug at his shirt, your hips bucking up into his just slightly. It was enough to soothe the ache you both were beginning to feel, much like how you felt earlier with him at the party.  “But we’re not going to, are we?”

He hummed, shaking his head before connecting your lips.

-

You were sitting with your back pressed against the headboard, a blanket covering your naked body and your phone in your hands. You scrolled through one of the articles posted about the killings that happened earlier in the night, which something you had no clue even happened. 

Ethan was at the end of the bed, half dressed as he couldn’t be bothered to put his shirt back on at the moment. 

Just as you were about to inform him of the two students that were killed, Chad bursted into the room. “Tara and Sam were just attacked,” he said. “Where the hell were you and where the hell is-” he cut himself off when he saw your bare shoulders peeking out from under the blanket and the annoyed face you gave him.

Ethan cursed him out as he moved back to block your body from Chad’s view. “Jesus, don’t you know how to knock?” He asked angrily, grabbing a grey shirt from off the floor and giving it to you. 

“Um, yes, I do,” Chad mumbled, embarrassed at what he just walked into. “To be honest, I was coming in here to accuse you of being the one who attacked them, but I see you’ve been…busy with something else.”

“Yeah?” Ethan asked as he pulled a grey henley over his head. “What gave you that idea?”

“Yeah, heh,” Chad trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. “I guess you don’t need me to be your wingman afterall, huh?”

When neither you or Ethan laughed, Chad cleared his throat and shook his head, pointing behind him with his thumb.

“Um, Mindy wants us all to go to Tara and Sam’s place,” he said. “So we’re all together and no one becomes suspicious of one another.”

“Really?” You scoff as you put the shirt on and throw the blanket off you. “Is this what our life has become?” You ask no one in particular and take the pair of sweatpants Ethan held out to you. 

He shrugged and covered your body with his as best as he could as Chad let out an awkward laugh. “Yeah, you know what?” He slowly backed out of the room, making both you and Ethan look over at him. “I’ll just see you guys over there, okay?”

You rolled your eyes when he closed the door again, sitting up straight once you were dressed. “I seriously can’t stand your roommate, you know that?”

While you began moving various blankets and pillows on the bed in search for your phone, you become too distracted to hear the way Ethan agreed with you, mumbling a quiet, “Yeah, me either,”

-

You had nearly dozed off multiple times during Mindy’s rant about the rules of horror movies and how to narrow down the suspects. You had your chin pressed to your hand that was resting on Ethan’s shoulder, your eyes feeling heavier as she continued to ramble. When she mentioned that newcomers, aka new friends, are most likely the killer, you lifted your head and furrowed your brows. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see how I could be the killer,” you say and gesture over to where Sam was sitting. “I don’t even know her.”

“All the more reason you could be out to get her. You have no connection, but you’re friends with Tara, who was also attacked,” Mindy said, her eyes cold and accusing. “Now that I think of it, where were you when Sam and Tara were attacked? Everyone was at their place except for you.”

Before Chad could interrupt his sister’s interrogation and come to your defense, Ethan grabbed your hand. “She was with me last night,”

Mindy glared at him. “And where were you?” 

“At home,” Ethan answered. “In my room.”

“TMI,” Mindy shook her head, taking her eyes off the two of you.

“It is true, though,” Chad said after a few seconds, raising his hand as if he were answering a question. “I might have accidentally walked in on them.”

You give him a sarcastic smile and stand up. “There, it wasn’t either of us,” you say and tug on your boyfriend’s hand. “Can we go now? This is boring.”

Mindy squinted her eyes at you before shrugging. “Fine,” she said. “But I’ve got my eye on both of you.”

“Maybe you should have your eye on your girlfriend, too,” you point out and hear Anika scoff. “She’s also a newcomer.”

“Yeah, okay,” Anika muttered. “And maybe you should care more about your so-called friends rather than slutting it up with your boyfriend.”

You rolled your eyes at that, the words hardly affecting you and you pulled on Ethan’s hand, not noticing how his eyes were cold and hard. He glared at Anika, her harsh words about you playing on repeat in his head, before he let you lead him away from the group. 

-

At the sound of Quinn and her boyfriend going at it, you regret not asking Ethan if you could go with him to econ. Earlier you were sitting next to him on the Carpenter couch and were prepared to fall asleep with your head on his shoulder when he got a text. 

You were too distracted by his phone wallpaper, which was a picture of the two of you on your third date, to see what the text he had received said. He gave you a chaste kiss, mumbling something about needing to go and the word econ before he was gone. 

Now, still on the couch, you were sitting next to Anika as she flipped through the channels on the TV. At the sound of four distinct phones going off, you sat up and watched as Sam, Tara, Mindy and Chad stood up from their chairs at the table and ran towards Quinn’s room.

This made both you and Anika stand up as well and follow after them, all six of you pausing outside the closed door. “What is going on?” As soon as you asked that, the door was pulled open and Quinn’s bloodied body was thrown at Anika. The force of the body took her to the floor and chaos erupted as the killer, dressed in a black robe and mask, stepped out of the room. 

They sliced up Mindy’s arm as Chad and Tara ran out of the apartment completely, leaving the four of you behind. The killer turned to you and you let out a small scream as they grabbed onto your arms and threw you into Quinn’s room. 

You landed on the floor with a harsh thud, a jolt of pain shooting down your arm. You watched in horror as they picked up Anika and plunged the knife into her stomach, twisting it and sliding it upwards. Sam came running out of the kitchen with a knife block in her hands and she slammed it against the head of the killer, making them fall to the floor with a grunt. 

“Guys, in here,” you yelled out and got up quickly, pulling them into the room with you. Sam slammed and locked the door, telling Mindy to do the same to the bathroom door. When she came face to face with ghostface, she tried closing the door before they got in, but failed to do so. She instead opted for the other door and slammed that one, but everyone knew it wouldn’t be long until it was broken through. 

It was then that Sam opened the window and secured the end of a ladder to the frame, successfully creating an escape route into the apartment next to hers. “You go first,” you say as you help Mindy hold the dresser against the door. After a quick debate, Sam finally gave in and began crawling across the ladder, yelling at the three of you once she was on the other side. 

“You next,” Mindy said to you and you shook your head, nearly losing your balance when the killer gave a particularly hard shove to the door. “Yes, go. I got Anika. Go.”

At this point, ghostface had his arm in the room and began swinging it around. As you gave Mindy a nod, the blade sliced against your back, cutting the shirt you were wearing as well as a layer or two of skin. 

You cry out in pain and rush towards the window. You avoided looking down as best as you could, listening to Danny and Sam’s words of encouragement as you crawled as fast as you could across the ladder. Danny easily pulled you into his apartment once you were in reaching distance, and the three of you began yelling for Mindy and Anika. 

Mindy made it across and Anika would’ve, too, had her wound not worsened and had she not wasted too much time crying over how high up she was. She was about half way when the killer finally broke into the room and walked to the window. They dropped the knife and grabbed onto the ladder, swaying it in a mocking manner. Anika cried out once she was about half way, giving up on trying to crawl the rest of the way.

What none of you knew, at that moment, was how the degrading words Anika had spit at you earlier played through Ethan’s mind, making his hold on the ladder tighten. He stopped moving it for just a second before gathering the strength he needed and flipping it onto its side, sending Anika falling several stories down. Her head slammed off a dumpster before her body fell limp a few seconds later, her lifeless face staring up at the four of you.

-

The sun was glaring down at you as you sat in the back of the ambulance. The paramedic examines your arm after she places a large bandage on your back, successfully stopping the blood flow from the cut. She came to the conclusion that your elbow was sprained and after she finished wrapping it in a sling, your eyes met a familiar pair of brown ones. 

Ethan ducks under the caution tape as you quickly stand up and take off in his direction. He drops his bag to the ground as you throw yourself at him, not caring about the pain that shoots up your arm at the force of your body hitting his. You wrap your free arm around his shoulders, pulling him down into as you cry, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” he said, guilt evident in his voice. “Are you okay?” He asked quickly, hearing you whimper in response. 

You shake your head and he wraps his arms around you protectively, eyeing the body bag in the alley way with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Chad makes his way over to the two of you, his defensive side coming out. “Where the hell were you last night?”

“Back off, man,” Ethan muttered, standing up straight and keeping his arm around your shoulders. “I had econ. Ask anyone I was with last night.”

Chad scoffed. “You were the only one who wasn’t here last night,”

You had grown tired of the countless accusations thrown around and lifted your head to glare at Chad through teary eyes. “Would you give it a rest?” You ask angrily. “I think I would know if my boyfriend of almost two years is going around killing people.”

“I thought the same thing,” Sam mumbled as she stood next to Chad. “But I was wrong.”

“Guys, come on,” Ethan sighed, feeling like he was being backed into a corner but not letting his defensive side come out. It would give everything away. “I already told you where I was. Ask one of the hundred people who I was with.”

At that Chad and Sam backed off, walking away with heavy shoulders.

You press your head against his chest once they leave, small whimpers still escaping your lips. Ethan holds you tightly, his eyes narrowing at the cut in your shirt and the glimpse of the white bandage he could see under it. 

He presses a kiss to the top of your head as he stares at the Carpenter sisters and the twins, his eyes holding a deadly glare. 

It’ll all be over soon. He thinks to himself. 

And when it is, it’ll just be you and him - just like how it always had and always will be.

-

Thank you all SO MUCH for the love and support I received on the teaser. It blew my mind as I truly wasn't expecting it :') I hope you all enjoyed this <3 (ps. I tried to make it as accurate as possible to the movie, but I have a terrible memory heha.)

I don't normally tag people, but since you asked ;) @anonoussy

[cherienymphe]

Haunted (Damon Salvatore x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, MURDER, compulsion, blood, stalking, abusive relationship, domestic violence

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies ​

summary: If you'd known that your ex-boyfriend was a vampire, you would've gotten a stake instead of a restraining order.

~

You patted your face dry with the small hand towel, basking in the silence that surrounded you. It was the silence of a home that belonged entirely to you, occupied with no one else but you. You weren’t concerned with who was standing over your shoulder nor whose face would greet yours in the reflection when you looked up.

When you walked out of the bathroom, there was no surprise guest waiting for you by the door…or on your bed.

You liked to think that you were always a good judge of character. You always made good and trustworthy friends, always avoided conflict with wicked people, and even picked boyfriends that treated you nothing less than decent. Every single one had been perfect, and the only thing that contributed to the downfall of your relationships was nothing more than maturity and growing apart.

Then Damon happened.

He was everything you always avoided. Devilishly handsome—the kind that drove girls to lose all common sense—, hedonistic to a fault, and mysterious in ways that grew less sexy and more concerning over time. That crooked smile of his went from mischievous to nerve-wracking. His knack for knowing where you seemed to be at all times morphed from caring to worrying.

Damon looked like the devil come to earth…and he slowly started to feel that way too.

You stared out of your window with your hands at your side, dismayed at how you of all people ended up in such a situation. Gone were the days where you always wanted to be around him and soon came the days where you were scrambling for just five minutes away from him. There was a time where you thought you’d never get that again…but here you were…back home…

…and safe.

Mystic Falls was small and quaint and quiet. Granted, you hadn’t been home in years, but upon returning, it was like nothing had changed. Your house was still the same, your cousin and great aunt were still the same, and you felt more at peace with one foot into the town than you had in almost a year. It wasn’t until you were finally away from him did you realize just how much Damon had drained you.

He took up so much of your time that you’d been driven to drop out of school with only another year left. You’d been too overwhelmed, and unable to pinpoint the exact problem at the time, you’d broken down in class and came to the conclusion that college was the problem when in actuality…the problem was the raven-haired man who shadowed your every footstep.

You looked down at your wrists, recalling the way he used to wrap his hands around them when he wanted your full attention. That was something he seemed to hate, how much he could never fully hold your attention. How your every waking thought wasn’t consumed with him.

Damon absolutely hated not being the center of your universe. He hated when you’d call your cousin or great aunt to see how they were doing. He hated when you went out with your friends after class. He hated when he’d call or come by, and you were otherwise occupied. It had seemed like he wanted you to sit around twiddling your thumbs with nothing to do but wait for him.

You’d thought it was cute at first, that he was just so enamored with you that he wanted to spend all his free time with you, but then… Then you saw it for what it was, most especially when he’d snatched your arm one day, forcing you to pause in your phone call. It happened so suddenly, and you’d been in shock, but your incredulous stare had done nothing to deter him.

“Sweetheart…I had plans to take you out.”

He’d said it in that smooth baritone of his, the kind that made your knees weak, and instead of holding your resolve, you’d actually given in. You had actually felt bad for holding him up and ruining his surprise, profusely apologizing before bidding your cousin goodbye. He hadn’t let you go once that night, and if you’d been concerned by it—something you couldn’t even recall—it had definitely been long gone by the end of the night.

Damon had a way of making you overlook every concerning detail, especially when he was kissing you and playing your body so well that it seemed like you’d been dating for years instead of less than seven months. Whenever you closed your eyes, it was easy to recall the feel of his soft lips gliding down your stomach, his nimble fingers sliding into you, his hips pressing against yours as he filled you up.

It was all a distraction, a pretty package to hide his true nature.

Even though you were hundreds of miles away, far away from your ex-boyfriend, a shudder still passed through you at the mere thought of him. You stared out into the night with your arms wrapped around yourself, teeth sinking into your lip. You flexed your wrist, still surprised at what it felt like to not hurt after all this time, and you took a step back away from the window.

Your eyes strayed to the lock, confirming that it was locked, and you slowly made your way downstairs. Despite the fact that you knew they were, you still wanted to make sure that both doors were locked too. Damon was far away, and even if he wasn’t, your restraining order made sure he would stay that way, but something in you couldn’t hold off the feeling that he was just over your shoulder.

You didn’t think Damon would ever go through such lengths, but there had also been a time where you didn’t think he’d ever show up at your door again after you’d blatantly broken up with him. You didn’t think there’d be a time where he sprained your wrist. You never imagined a day would come where you’d make your way down to the police station and have to plead your case about getting a protective order.

In truth, you still didn’t know how you’d been granted it. One minute they’d been adamantly against it because Damon hadn’t done anything to you that you could prove, and the next, you’d been staring at a piece of paper that said if he came within a certain distance of you, he’d be arrested.

You made your way up your stairs with a small sigh, chest feeling heavy no matter how many times you exhaled. You glanced over your shoulder on your way up, gaze lingering on the front door as if some entity from the other side was willing you to open it. With a shudder, you turned back around and locked yourself in your bedroom.

The cool Virginia air was almost biting as you deposited your groceries in your car. As convinced as you were that you hated the cold, you missed it infinitely when you were away. You had longed for the comforts of home a lot, but more so when deep in the toxic cycle of your relationship. You had never longed for home more than when Damon was cornering you and intimidating you with those icy blue eyes of his.

You paused at the thought, hand on your car as one incident in particular came to mind. You struggled to swallow at the memory, almost able to feel the gentle brush of his nose against yours as he leaned in and asked if you were stupid. The words alone had been insulting, tears springing to your eyes at the sound of Damon talking to you in such a way.

However, the true hurt set in when his hand had pressed into the wall next to your head, completely trapping you. He wouldn’t let you leave, and anytime you’d moved to one side, he would be there…blocking your way, blue eyes staring you down. It was one of the first moments you’d been scared of Damon, and instead of recognizing that for the true sign that it was, you only wrote it off as a once off.

A honking horn pulled you from your thoughts, and you flinched, startled by the sound.

You glanced over to see that someone had almost hit someone else in the street, one of the two clearly not paying attention to the other. You stared at the cars for a moment more before glancing up. You were just about to slide into your own vehicle when your eyes passed over something scarily familiar. Or…

Perhaps someone was a more fitting word.

You glanced up again, but your gaze landed on nothing. There was no one standing across the street in the square even though you’d been absolutely sure of what you saw. The longer you stared, it was like you were trying to will yourself to see what you swore you just saw, but no familiar fair skinned figure appeared. No man with dark hair and hypnotizing blue eyes was in sight, and you stood there for a few seconds more before finally sinking into your car.

Your fingers were tight on the wheel the whole way to your house, and you didn’t realize just how badly you’d spooked yourself until you were parked and unloading your car. Your house wasn’t out in the middle of nowhere or outskirts of town, but the dense woods faced you, and as you carried groceries back and forth from the car to the house, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being…watched.

You stood at your door with your last groceries in hand, staring out before you with a small frown. It was late in the evening, and while the sun hadn’t disappeared completely, it was threatening to. Your town was no stranger to the odd string of animal attacks here and there, and it was that thought that forced you into the house, turning the lock shut behind you.

The silence that met you was as welcoming as it always was now.

Dinner was quick to make, and your shower was even quicker to take, towel securely wrapped around you as you stepped out of the bathroom. You faced your window when you came out, and you stopped short at the sight of a crow perched on the sill. You tightened your fingers in your towel, clutching it to you as you stared at the dark bird.

Your brows slowly furrowed with a frown.

You were working hard to remember if it was normal for crows to be out at night, and despite the fact that a singular bird was of no consequence to you, you still couldn’t shake the feeling its mere presence was…off. Pulling your gaze away, you dropped your towel and threw on a t-shirt. One deep inhale told you that it was one of Damon’s old shirts, and you were tempted to rip it off, throw it in the garbage even, but the smell of a scent you hadn’t inhaled in ages gave you pause.

How was it possible to miss someone who was so horrible to you?

Refusing to linger on what that meant, you quickly made your way downstairs to eat. You replied to a few of Bonnie’s texts, telling her you might come by tomorrow or another. It had been a good week or so since you’d last seen her, and you were feeling like a bad cousin. You weren’t of the right mind to explain your odd behavior and reclusive habits as of late. You wondered if you ever would be.

You were washing and drying your dishes when something out of the ordinary made you blink.

You lifted your eyes, startled by the sight of a familiar face faintly appearing in the glass. The sight had the plate slipping from your fingers, and you only tore your eyes away when the sound of breaking glass reached your ears. You quickly glanced down, taking in the sight of your unblemished feet before glancing back up.

The only face that stared back at you was yours.

You felt paralyzed, lips parting and chest heaving as you just…stared at the window. The more you stared, the crazier you felt, and you pressed your hand to your forehead. Your heart wouldn’t stop racing no matter how hard you tried to make it so. Your lips were parted in dismay, and you slowly dropped a hand to press it to your chest.

With trembling hands and legs, you slowly knelt down.

You were so sure… You had been certain, in fact… Damon’s face had been clear as day in your kitchen window, and yet in the blink of an eye, it was gone just as quickly. You knew that you were quite literally driving yourself insane, and you struggled to clean up your glass. Once your mess was clear, you quickly closed the kitchen window curtain, blinking back tears.

You trekked back to your room in a daze, and you made sure to lock your bedroom door once you were inside.

You thought to yourself that sleep could not find you fast enough, but sleep was not the escape you thought it would be.

Your dreams—or nightmares rather—were filled with familiar pink lips and cruel blue eyes. Damon’s mouth covered your own even when you struggled for air. His hands ran over you, and his fingers kneaded into your skin. It started out as nice as it once did, but just like your relationship, it quickly morphed into something sinister. The pink of Damon’s lips were replaced with the red of blood, the color smearing all over you as he kissed you wherever he desired.

The gentle touch of his hands became painful, sharp pains flaring in your sides and arms as he held you down. The loving roll of his hips turned into something violent and assaulting, forcing screams from your lips and tears from your eyes. No matter how much you begged, it was as if your pleas fell on deaf ears, and your only escape was in the waking world.

Darkness greeted you when you sat up in bed, eyes wide and lips parted as you gasped for breath. Despite the cold weather outside and the blasting A/C inside, your skin was dewy with sweat. You quickly kicked the covers off of you, pressing your hand to your chest and wiping your face with the other. It all felt too real, and your entire body shook—enough to shake the bed too.

Your gaze traveled over your room, and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest at the shadowy outline by your door. A scream escaped your lips, and you scrambled to turn on the light, no relief filling you when no one was there. You only stared at where you could’ve sworn someone was standing, throat tightening and tears escaping.

You pulled your trembling lip between your teeth, just staring at the empty space where someone once was—had to be. You stared at the space for what felt like too long before finally pulling your gaze away, slowly bringing your knees up to your chest and wrapping one arm around them. Your other hand pressed to your forehead, eyes squeezing shut as you fought against the idea that you were going crazy, but you had to be.

Damon was far away and wouldn’t be coming for you. It was so likely that he’d moved on already, long found someone else to replace you and torment. That thought was equally terrifying and comforting, and you sniffed. Once you started, you couldn’t stop, and the tears kept coming. You didn’t want to accept it…

…but you were starting to think that Damon had truly driven you insane.

“You’ve been back home for a little over a month, and I’ve seen you twice,” Bonnie told you with a tilt of her head. “You need to visit more.”

“I know,” you sighed as she walked you to the door. “Unpacking and all that…”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her you were plagued with thoughts and dreams and visions of a dark-haired tormentor. Damon was everywhere you looked, and in your efforts to avoid him in your dreams, sleep was something you ran from these days. However, he found a home out of the corner of your eye and in window reflections instead. It was haunting, and that bird…

That damn bird.

It cawed at you in the early hours of the morning, and what you’d once written off as a curious creature quickly turned into a terrifying symbol. Something about that crow reminded you of Damon, dark and unmoving and always watching. Every time you tried to shoo it away, it never moved, never even flinched. It was completely unafraid of you…

Like someone else you knew.

You had begun to dread it’s very presence, turning your back to it once settled in bed.

“Well, if you need help taking out all your things, you know I’m happy to help,” she offered with a small frown.

“I appreciate the offer, but…I’m basically done, now,” you lied.

The other girl pouted a bit but accepted your response. When she reached out to touch you, her bare hands landing on the skin of your arms, she froze. Her eyes widened as she looked up at you, fingers pressing into your arms as she swallowed, your gaze drawn to the action. You hadn’t ever seen that look on Bonnie’s face before, expression stricken and face losing all its color.

“Are you…okay…?”

You blinked at her at that, your turn to frown, now. Bonnie suddenly shook her head as if clearing her thoughts.

“I…I’m sorry, I… Grams has been up to her normal tricks again, and she…”

The look on Bonnie’s face gave you pause. You knew how kooky your great aunt could be, and the family entertained her because it was nothing more than good natured fun, but the severity in Bonnie’s voice had you seriously holding her gaze.

“What…? What is it?”

She looked disturbed.

“You just…you just feel so cold…and not like you’re cold, but like you’re…empty of all warmth.”

Your face fell.

“Of all life.”

You slowly pulled away at that, unsure of what to say and only able to settle for laughing it off. Bonnie didn’t really join in, and you ignored her weak attempts to get you to stay, to keep you from going home.

“Bonnie, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you reassured her.

Her expression wasn’t one of agreement, but she eventually let your hand go, albeit reluctantly.

“Just…call me as soon as you get home, okay?” she urged.

You promised her that you would, trying to assure her with your eyes that everything would be fine as you made your way to your car. Her wave back lacked enthusiasm, and you tried not to linger on that as you drove back home. It was dark when you parked in your driveway, and you made sure to be brisk when you got out of your car.

Like before, the imposing presence of the dense woods made your body buzz with energy—with adrenaline. Your hands shook as you struggled to find your house key. You felt clumsier than normal, heart beginning to race beneath your chest. You swore you heard a branch or something snap, and you fought the urge to look over your shoulder, only focused on the keys in your hand.

You only just touched the right one when the entire keychain slipped from your fingers.

The sound of it hitting the concrete seemed so loud, and you felt a chill pass through you at the sight of it at your feet. With a brief pause, you bent down to get it, feeling a warmth in your back that you’d only felt in the presence of one other person. With your fingers on the key, you didn’t hesitate to rise to your feet and unlock the door. A cool breeze passed by you, and the shiver to crawl up your spine somehow felt like it was from more than that.

You practically stumbled inside of your house, tripping across the threshold, and you only spun around once you were inside, shocked at the sight before you.

Only your car, your yard, and the trees greeted you.

Your hand was on the door, the other hanging limply at your side. Your yard was completely empty of anyone, most of all who you feared the most, and you swallowed. Your gaze moved from side to side, tilting your head this way and that, completely shocked with the realization that it was all in your head. Even with this truth staring you in the face, you couldn’t stop yourself from shaking.

Not even when you shut the door and pressed your back to it.

You felt too hot, blood pumping too fast in your body, and with a shuddering exhale, you forced yourself to go upstairs and shower, hoping it would solve your problems for the night.

The blaring sound of your car alarm was what forced you out of your sleep. It was hard to discern what the noise even was at first. After all, you could count the number of times on one hand someone had actually set it off. You rubbed your eyes while struggling to sit up, the annoying sound of the alarm only making you more irritated when combined with your lack of sleep.

It took nothing at all to find your keys on your nightstand and shut it off, and the night was bathed in silence once again. The silence felt so loud though, and for a moment, you almost wished your alarm would sound again. You slowly started to relax when you jumped, the sound of your car alarm filling the room once again. This time you did get up, and you stared down into the yard as you clicked the button.

Silence met you, and the yard was bathed in darkness once more. You stared down into the darkness, wondering what kind of animal could be hitting against your car with that much force. There was a sinister thought in that back of your mind that it was no animal at all, and you struggled to force it away. No. Damon would never…

Even if you wanted to be conceited for all of five minutes, logically, why would Damon follow you here? Why would he come after you? It had been a good month since you saw him before you finally came back home, relaxed in the thought that the restraining order had clued him in on how serious you really were. It made no sense for Damon to still be chasing after you, and yet…

As you stared down into your yard, casting your eyes this way and that for any sign of the man who still haunted your dreams, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was out there. No shape seemed out of place and no shadow stood out to you as unordinary, but you could not shake that feeling that he was staring right back at you…and you didn’t even know it.

Closing the curtain and backing away, you gently dropped your keys back onto the nightstand. Yu clutched your sheet just under your chin as you stared up at the ceiling, laying straight on your back and as stiff as a board. The house felt too quiet, now, and that silence that you’d grown to love only served to torment you, now.

You flinched when something hit your window hard, a familiar caw reaching your ears, and you slowly sat up. Your eyes widened a tad at the sight of that dark bird through the curtain, and you remembered finally reading something the other day that crows were not typically nocturnal. The sight of it stirred something so negative in you that you couldn’t even look at it, turning and facing the wall.

It cawed again, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

Something about this just wasn’t right. You didn’t know how but all of this felt off somehow, and you squeezed your eyes tighter as the bird’s sound reached your ears again. A few tears passed through, escaping your tightly shut eyes, and you pulled your sheet over your head. Lick clockwork, that crow would caw every hour or so, and the silence in between was spent staring into the darkness instead of actually sleeping, just knowing it was there and waiting for it to sound again.

Your lack of sleep was commented on the next day.

“It’s just taking some getting used to, being back in my old house and all that,” you softly said, waving Bonnie and Caroline off.

You remembered Caroline Forbes from when you were younger, the blonde girl barely pushing the age of five then. She was just as talkative and lively as you remembered. You also remembered an additional girl to complete the trio, and Caroline excitedly hummed.

“Elena is off on a weekend trip with her boyfriend. Stefan Salvatore,” she told you, and the way she said his name told you all you needed to know about what he looked like. “I would be so jealous if I hadn’t already had the other brother. Been there, done that.”

She made a face that clued you in on how that had ended.

“It lasted all of three months before he decided he was tired of me and took off,” she scoffed. “I want no parts of that family.”

Bonnie hummed in agreement.

“Damon was way too old for you anyway, Caroline. He’s like…Y/N’s age, and that would be like her dating Jeremy.”

They both made pinched faces, disgusted with the thought, and you were inclined to agree when you suddenly frowned. You blinked, turning to look at Bonnie as the name that came out of her mouth finally registered. You felt your heart sink, and feeling your eyes on her, Bonnie turned to look at you.

“Did you say…Damon?”

“Yeah, Damon. Stefan’s brother. I don’t think you ever met him,” she added. “He came back to town a good year after you left, and he left…maybe three years ago?”

“With barely a goodbye,” Caroline mumbled, and it was easy to tell she was still rightfully bitter about the whole thing.

You told yourself that it was a coincidence, but you recalled Damon’s mysterious nature, the lack of information he ever gave up about his personal life. Although the one thing you did know was that he was from Virginia too…and you told yourself that it was nothing more than a coincidence. It had to be.

You grew quiet, Bonnie and Caroline none the wiser to your silent disposition. You took a sip of your drink, glancing around The Grill. It was a Friday night, and it was packed like any other Friday night. Adults and teenagers alike were hanging out at the one hot spot in town, and when your gaze glided over the bar, a familiar pair of blue eyes connected with yours.

You bumped Bonnie when you jumped, and you were quick to turn and apologize to her after your drink spilled some. She didn’t take offense, seemingly more concerned for you than anything else, and you assured her you were fine, heart racing as you turned back towards the bar. Your eyes passed up and down it at least a few times, but Damon was nowhere in sight, and you set your drink down.

You pressed your hand to your forehead, wondering if you had too much to drink. You knew that wasn’t true. You’d barely had two glasses of beer, and you closed your eyes. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, breathing in through your mouth and exhaling through your nose. You only opened your eyes when Bonnie touched your arm, Caroline now quiet too.

“I think I’m gonna head home,” you suddenly said, standing and grabbing your purse.

“Oh, okay.”

You hated the disappointment you heard in Bonnie’s voice as you searched your purse for some cash.

“I’m just not feeling the best. I shouldn’t have come, but I really wanted to see you guys,” you honestly told her.

Bonnie smiled at that.

“You really shouldn’t have. You can always see us. You need to be getting more rest,” she advised.

You agreed, throwing some cash on the table.

“By the way, Grams is going to make you more of those cookies she always used to send you. I told her that you ran out weeks ago, and she freaked. Demanded to know why I hadn’t told her sooner,” she chuckled.

“Ooh is that like some witchy thing?” Caroline wondered, wiggling her fingers.

You and Bonnie rolled your eyes, loathe to admit how right Caroline was.

“She swears that they protect Y/N and brought her good luck while she was away,” the brunette told her.

“I don’t have the heart to tell her she should probably find a new recipe,” you mumbled with a shake of your head.

If they knew the things you’d been through with Damon, they’d know that those cookies hadn’t done a thing to help you. You waved them both goodbye, keys in hand as you walked out the door. You learned your lesson from last time, keeping the one you needed directly between your fingers to save less time. However, smart thinking would never trump clumsiness, and you cursed when your keys hit the pavement. You were thankful that you were just at your door though, bending down to pick them up…

When another hand beat you to it.

It startled you, and a nervous thank you was just on the tip of your lips…when you lifted your eyes.

Damon was even prettier than you remembered. Skin perfect and unblemished, eyes a crystalline blue that didn’t look real, and hair as dark as the night sky behind him. You thought you were imagining things at first, as you had been for a good month, now, and you slowly forced yourself to stand. You couldn’t find any words to say, just staring at him and trying to figure out if this was another trick of your mind. The faint noise of the people standing outside The Grill just across the street faded into the background as he moved…and handed you your keys.

Your lips parted, a gasp escaping when his fingers brushed against your skin as he laid them in your palm. You stared down at them for a few seconds before lifting your gaze again, heart stuttering and skipping beats as it registered within your mind. He was real, he was really here in Mystic Falls, and you couldn’t even decide on what to feel.

Damon’s blue eyes fell to your chest, right where your heart was as if he could hear it, and you blinked.

“Damon.”

You almost whispered his name, too afraid to say it too loudly.

“You… I have a restraining order,” you finally remembered, frowning at him.

He didn’t respond at first, merely tilting his head to the side as he drank you in. You’d grown to hate that gesture, the act nothing more than an indication of the condescending thoughts running rampant in his mind. When he looked at you like he was looking at you now, it used to make you feel cute.

Now, it just made you feel stupid.

“How does it feel to be back home?”

He completely ignored you, and you clenched your keys in your hand.

“To catch up with the family and the friends,” he drawled, doing that thing with his eyes that made your heart jump. “Unpacking in that big ole house by your lonesome?”

Your frown deepened at his words.

“You know…”

He leaned over, resting his arm on the top of your car, propping his head up with his hand.

“When you broke up with me, I didn’t quite believe you,” he admitted.

“I know,” you whispered, recalling the day he’d shown up on your doorstep like nothing happened.

“…but then the restraining order, that seemed a little more serious.”

You looked around, glancing over your shoulder at The Grill, willing someone—anyone—to just glance over.

“…and the cops…they were never going to take you seriously. Why would they…?”

Making the decision not to hear another word of this, you moved to unlock your door. You opened it for all of two seconds before Damon was pressing his hand against it, shutting it. He was so close, and when you looked up, his lips were so close to yours.

“…but I was in a…let’s say…fun mood.”

You bit your lip when he slid his entire body to rest against your door, arms crossed over his chest as he regarded you.

“I decided to convince them to go ahead with it,” he told you, face even as he stared you down. “I just wanted to see what you’d do.”

You blinked at his words, taken aback with confusion. Damon had changed their minds…? Why would he do that? How did that even work? He suddenly sighed, glancing up towards the sky.

“I never imagined you’d actually leave,” he grumbled, pouting.

You reached your hand into your purse, your fingers just grazing your phone when the whole bag was snatched away. The only thing that remained were the keys in your hand, and your heart dropped to your stomach when Damon sighed, running his hand through his dark strands. You heard your purse land somewhere behind him, and the glint in his eyes told you just how angry he was.

It was not an unfamiliar sight.

“Damon…”

You took a step back, but he was faster, his hands coming up to gently cup your face. You hadn’t realized you started crying until his thumbs brushed your tears away. He gently shushed you, but there was nothing soothing about it. It was often a sound you heard just before his fingers harshly dug into your jaw.

“You need to leave…before I call the police,” you choked out.

He actually laughed.

The sound was so disheartening, and it sounded genuine, like the thought actually tickled him. Like the idea was so preposterous, the idea that they could do anything to him, at all. The sound was so convincing that you almost believed it yourself, almost believed that he really was untouchable.

“…and what are they going to do? Hmm?”

His hand tightened on your jaw, and you winced. His face wasn’t so pretty, now, faint veins appearing under his eyes just before they disappeared as quickly as they came. The sight stumped you, and you stared at him through stricken eyes.

“Hey, is everything alright?”

Relief filled you at the sound of the new voice, and Damon’s expression evened out, just as pretty as before. He huffed, and you watched him roll his eyes just before turning to face the newcomer behind him. You didn’t hesitate to unlock your car, sliding into it and locking the door just as Damon’s hand hit the window. You froze at the crack that now adorned it, looking at Damon through the glass with an expression you couldn’t even name.

The sound of your name reached your ears as he called your name, his mockingly chipper tone barely able to hide the malice beneath it. You didn’t look back as you drove away, hurrying to beat him to your house. His words were stuck in your mind, and you were certain, now that he actually had been stalking you. You weren’t sure how that related to any of the other stuff, convinced he’d still managed to drive you mad, but Damon most definitely had been to your house.

You car was barely parked and turned off good before you were hopping out, sprinting to the door. Light flooded your home when you flipped the switch, and without a cell phone, you were forced to rely on the landline. It took you a good seven seconds to realize that you’d heard no dial tone when you picked it up, and that pressing any buttons was going to do no good.

Someone had cut the phone line.

The phone clattered to the floor as the realization hit you, and no second thoughts were needed to know who did it. The room swayed a bit, and you just knew you were going to be sick any moment now. The confirmation that Damon had in fact been watching you brought you no sense of satisfaction for not actually being crazy. In fact, you wished you’d just made it all up in your head. At least then you wouldn’t have to deal with the harsh knocks on your door.

The scream you let out bounced off of the walls, and you clutched your stomach as you fought to hold in your sobs.

The faint sound of your name reached your ears in the living room.

“I really hate that it had to come to this, you know I do…”

You slowly looked up, tearful gaze resting on the front door.

“…but you should probably come and talk to me face to face…before I do something…”

There was a slight pause, and you could almost imagine that mirthful smirk adorning his lips.

“…drastic.”

His tone gave you pause, and you felt at war with yourself. Logically, you would have to leave your house at some point. You did not think you’d be able to wait him out, but something in you screamed at you to. Something in you was convinced that you could, but a part of you was telling you that if he’d come all this way, followed you all the way back to both yours and his hometown, there was no telling the lengths he’d go to. You’d watched enough Dateline, enough Investigation Discovery, and despite the fact that you didn’t ever want to think he’d be that bad, something in you wondered if you’d wake up to the smell of smoke and burning flames one night.

Slowly approaching the door, you heard Damon chuckle, like he could perfectly hear your footsteps.

“Come on, baby,” he softly said. “I don’t have all night.”

It took all of your strength to unlock and open the door, and when you did…

You almost immediately regretted it.

You didn’t recognize the woman he had in his arms, only knew that she was crying and clearly in distress. You looked between them before resting your gaze on Damon, staring at him as if he were crazy. Your lips parted in shock, and your gaze fell back to his hand, the one he had around her neck.

“Damon…what are you doing…?” you slowly asked him, lifting your hands just as slow as if trying to stall whatever he was about to do.

“I’m doing what you made me do.”

His nostrils flared as he stared you down, blaming you for his actions, and a choked gasp escaped you.

“She-.”

“She’s going to die if you don’t step outside, right now.”

He said it so suddenly, so evenly, that you felt no other option than to believe him. Your frown deepened as you searched his eyes for some remorse, a hint of a joke, some leniency there that would give way if you pushed hard enough, but you saw none of that. Damon’s eyes had never looked so cold, and you knew then that he was entirely serious.

“Damon,” you choked out.

“Now,” was his only response, tone clipped as the girl—no older than you—cried in his arms.

You felt bad. This—whatever this was—was between the two of you, and Damon had dragged an innocent woman into it. You moved, and once one of your feet was over the threshold, a tight grip on your neck completely obstructed your breathing. On instinct, you reached up to grip his arm, panicked.

His blue gaze was all you could see, and you blinked back tears as he spoke.

“You made me do this.”

He didn’t give you time to linger on that before he pulled the other girl closer, having never let her go before grabbing you with his free hand.

You were completely frozen in shock as you watched him lean in and savagely bite her neck. The screams she let out were the kind to fill your nightmares, and you couldn’t believe what you were witnessing. You felt like you were stuck in an endless nightmare, unable to pull your eyes away from the sight of his violent assault, and unable to close your ears to the sounds of her screams, her struggle, and his teeth in her neck.

In her panic, the strange woman reached out to grip your arm, and the longer he bit her—fed from her—the weaker her grip became. Tears sprung to your eyes at the feel of her hand loosening on you, and they spilled over altogether when her hand finally let you go, falling at her side. You knew then that she was dead even if Damon hadn’t carelessly dropped her as proof.

You couldn’t breathe when he turned his gaze back to you.

Like before, those veins were under his eyes, but they were more prominent now, more terrifying to look at. His lips were completely covered in blood, some even smearing across his chin, and despite the new reality you were faced with, you still couldn’t believe it. You only gave some indication that you were still coherent when his lips grazed your cheek, a shuddering gasp leaving you.

“I missed you…you know that?” he murmured against your skin.

He took a step forward…and then another and then another, forcing you back with every one. His hand was still tight on your neck, and the other slowly snaked around your waist, pulling you closer. Damon didn’t stop until you were right in front of your door, and you looked at him like less than a stranger—like a monster straight out of every horror you’d been able to get your hands on.

You couldn’t move as he leaned in, bloody lips pressing against your cheek.

“Now, that those God-awful cookies—and everything in them—are out of your system for good…”

You didn’t understand what that had to do with anything, but soon, you didn’t understand nor comprehend anything.

Damon’s pupils were all that you could focus on, even in the darkness, and as they expanded, they were all that seemed to fill your vision. You felt yourself relaxing, shoulders drooping as the calmest feeling washed over you. Damon’s hand rubbed circles into your lower back, and the hand on your neck loosened some, his thumb smearing blood along your chin.

“Invite me in.”

How insane.

Why on earth would you ever invite him into your home? That was what you thought anyway, but the words that left your mouth were entirely different. You felt your lips move, and you heard your voice as you did what he said, and it was only when the warmth of your home replaced the cold Virginia air of outside did Damon let you go.

In doing so, his gaze broke away from yours, and you stumbled back in both shock and confusion.

Why did you do that? How did he make you do that? You could only back away from him as he slowly walked about the room, gaze roaming over the inside of your house with a hum.

“Cute,” he mused, and more tears fell. “So…homely. I can just imagine you baking in the kitchen.”

He moved his hands about with a chuckle and feeling both out of control and like you finally had control for the first time in moments, you sprinted for the door. In the blink of an eye, Damon’s arms were wrapped around you, and the sight of him drinking from that girl would never compare to the feeling, you supposed.

It was hard to make a sound when his teeth sank into your skin, and you reached back, desperately trying to pull him away to no avail. Damon’s arms were so tight around you, painfully, and you gasped when he backed up, pulling you with him. You couldn’t stop crying, and as your mind still fought to process just what he was, it hit you then that maybe you hadn’t been going insane.

Maybe he had been messing with your head somehow, watching you from the trees, showing up at odd places before disappearing. Your feet kicked at the feel of him pulling from you, and you could feel yourself growing weaker by the second. As if he could feel it too, Damon suddenly let you go, and you collapsed at his feet.

You shakily reached up to touch your neck, unsurprised by what you felt, and you failed to push yourself onto your knees.

“We were so good together…no…?”

You tried to bite back a sob, but it was no use. Damon tsk’d at the sound, and soon you were turned over to face him. He looked down at you like you were a misbehaving child, head tilted and lips pursed.

“You needed some time. I get that,” he nodded. “I even gave you that…”

You watched him kneel down, feeling too weak to even attempt to move, and your heart skipped a beat as you watched him peel off his jacket. He reached out to gently drag a finger down the side of your face, lingering at your lips.

“…but you don’t leave me. You don’t runaway from, and you definitely don’t keep me out.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips over yours before kissing you fully. You pushed at his chest, but it was a weak attempt, and you were unsurprised when Damon batted your hand away, pulling at your clothes with ease. A few tears escaped, running past your ears, and you could only arch up into his mouth when he bit your stomach.

A humming sound escaped him, and a warm feeling filled you.

You didn’t want to feel that, and with every article of clothing Damon got rid of, he marked the area with his teeth. When he kissed you again, his bare chest touched yours, and you felt powerless to stop what was happening. You’d done everything right. You’d broken up with, even went to the police when he didn’t respect your boundaries, and to real put the nail in the coffin, you moved away. You came back home and got far away from Damon.

…but what was far when the equation involved a vampire?

As Damon pushed himself into you with a low groan, you wondered how you had missed it. He obviously fed while you were together, he wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t, and considering how little human life clearly meant to him, you had to assume that Damon wasn’t of the…sympathetic variety. You tried to recall if anyone had gone missing back in the town where campus was, but it was hard to focus with Damon thrusting into you.

His face was pressed into the crook of your neck, and your hips involuntarily rose to meet his with every movement. Blood was still on his mouth when he pulled away, and when you reached up to push at his chest, Damon reached up to grab your hand. He twisted his fingers with your own before roughly pinning your hand down.

“What was the plan?” he wondered, his other hand finding a home on your neck. “Were you going to forget about me…? Move on?”

He said it like it was the craziest thing he’d ever heard, and more tears spilled over. The mere thought seemed to have upset him, and Damon leaned back down to bite into your chest. You hissed at the feel clenching around him, but Damon paid you no mind. He was too lost in the taste of you.

Thinking back on the memories of your tumultuous relationship, it scared you all the more to think of just what you’d been up against, all the while none the wiser.

Damon’s hips came down against yours with vigor, cock sliding in and out of you and making you shudder. The feel of him on top of you and in you brought you back to the happy days of your relationship, but the blood on his face and the tight grip on your neck only reminded you of what it had become.

Damon wouldn’t take his eyes off of you, staring down at you with those blue eyes, and when yours met his, life before, you felt your body relax as your vision was only filled with his widening pupils. You felt completely at his mercy, and you heard Damon hum.

“I want you to kiss me…like you kissed me on our first date.”

His words sparked the memory, and you felt a smile ghost along your lips as you recalled the excitedness in your as you’d pressed your lips against his. You’d been so bold then, so much like yourself before Damon had scared you into submission.

Overcome with the desire to do just that, you craned your head up to fiercely press your lips against his. Damon moaned into the kiss, and when he let your hand go, you threw your arms around his neck just as you had that night. Damon hummed against your lips, and you gasped against his at a particularly hard thrust. Even though you wanted to, you couldn’t stop kissing him.

You felt out of control of your own body, and tears kissed your eyes.

Your back slid along the floor with every snap of his hips, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the otherwise quiet room. You felt Damon’s hand twist at the root of your hair, yanking your head back and away from him, and you only got a brief glimpse of the veins in his face before his teeth were sinking into your neck again. The feel of his teeth and cock in you were threatening to send you over the edge, too overwhelming to even focus on.

When Damon’s teeth left you, you shuddered, and he hummed. You felt his fingers smoothing along your face, and when he whispered for you to look at him, too afraid to do otherwise, you did. Tears were still skipping down your cheeks, and Damon ran his blue eyes over you, drinking you in with a sigh. He looked disappointed, but it was gone just as quickly as it came.

When his eyes held your gaze again, your lips parted, and another tear escaped at the hypnotizing words that gripped you.

“Do not leave me ever again…”

You swallowed, but you didn’t blink.

“You are mine, and if you even try to, I will kill your loved ones one by one, starting with that meddling family of yours.”

Your lips trembled.

“Nod if you understand.”

You gave him a slow nod, and a cruel smile fell over his lips. He fingered your chin, just looking at you with that small smile.

“Tell me you love me,” he murmured, and hit with the overwhelming urge to do just that…

You did.

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Teacher!Ryomen Sukuna x Sorcerer!Reader // Teacher!Sukuna HC's <3

(THIS IS NOT STUDENT X TEACHER, READER IS NOT A STUDENT!)

Personally, I think it’s an actual crime there isn’t more teacher!sukuna content out there. I’ve only ever seen one fan art of it, and ever since I’ve been scrounging around on my hands and knees to find more

So m’ gonna just do it myself 🙏 

-!! [AFAB + AMAB] READER (HC’s involving reader’s bodily autonomy have both a female and male vers. → brief smut drabble at the end)    [everyone's in on this one👏]

-!! Reader is a rather powerful sorcerer 

-!! CW: Slight possessiveness (mainly for the short smut at the end → overstimulation, dacryphilia, slight size kink(?), mention of double cocks for og form Sukuna)

-!! Veeeery slight nod to manga spoiler if you squint. If you don’t know it 99% certain you won’t pick up on it

-!! Sukuna being a bit of a softy for his SO

3k+ words

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Awhile (around a good few centuries) ago, Ryomen Sukuna came to the conclusion that no, this was in fact not the way he wanted to live his life. He decided to put everything behind him; the bloodshed, the death, the massacres, and cannibalisms— (okay maybe that stayed the same)— all the things that essentially made his staple as the King of Curses. He’s a changed curse, he swears it. Honestly? Human food? Not that bad. Kinda worth changing his world view for 

With a changed work ethic, and a changed heart, Ryomen Sukuna made the conscious decision to become a teacher, — specifically a teacher in sorcery

—————-

Ryomen Sukuna works at Jujutsu Tech,-- the infamous King of Curses, who predominantly spends most of his days helping ungrateful brats obtain the necessary skills to kill his kind

→”No, you thick-skinned brat, you’re doing it all wrong!”

    “I’m sorry, Sukuna-sensei! I’m trying,--.. I really am! Could you maybe go over it one more time–”

             “No! You’re going to die all alone as your friends are tortured mercilessly!”

“How could you say that…” 🥺 

Following the fateful passing of Yuji Itadori’s grandpa, the poor kid awakened as a sorcerer with a rather nasty supply of cursed energy; a complete abnormality with an aura suspiciously like that of a certain Ryomen Sukuna… 

→ “The little brat is not living with me” 

“Awh, c’mon Sukuna-!! The kid’s a ticking time bomb to disaster, he needs help controlling his cursed energy, and who better to help than the amazing King of Curses himself!” 

“Shut up, Satoru Gojo.” 

“Ohoho~... looks like someone isn’t happy to become a single mother~~” 

“What-!? Single moth– fool, you yourself are a single mother” 

“...oh, yeah. Hehe… 😚”

“I hate it here…😒”  

Now, with the additional burden of personally attending to Yuji Itadori, there was only one thing keeping Ryomen Sukuna from completely imploding: 

You. His partner, his lover, his spouse, his anchor,-- the only source of light in his miserable, cursed life, – the sole person keeping him from reverting back to his old, murderous ways. 

Meeting a few years back, the ancient curse could’ve sworn the world got a dozen shades lighter the second his eyes landed on your form in the Tokyo crowd. Where everyone was actively moving away from his looming, intimidating hulk of a body, you looked at him with eyes void of the fear reflected off so many others. 

You approached him with interest, recognizing his unmistakable aura for that of the King of Curses, – and, to his utmost shock, – you proceeded to have a perfectly normal, civilized conversation with him. Never once did you look at him like you would a monster. Every time he’d get lost in those eyes of yours, never once did he find anything short of pure love and affection. It was sickeningly sweet. 

There on a mission, you introduced yourself as a fellow Jujutsu Sorcerer. 

Ryomen Sukuna could’ve sworn he’d heard your name before: rather infamous with the higher-ups, you were a well-respected sorcerer. That only aided to his immense confusion: why would a sorcerer of such high esteem and all around regard even remotely think talking to him, the King of Curses, was a good idea? 

Absolutely flabbergasted and entranced from your first encounter, Ryomen Sukuna was practically completely at your mercy. It took very little for you to simply haul him over your shoulder and take him wherever; he’d soon become akin to a lost puppy with you. 

Ryomen Sukuna is absolutely down-horrendous with his emotions. Hah, communication? Never heard of her. 

He’s never felt this deep for anyone before, and it terrifies him to no end. You terrify him to no end,-- the amount of power you have over him could be almost comical. 

At the start, he flat out avoided you altogether. Anytime he’d see you on campus he’d immediately start in the opposite direction. Anytime you’d attempt to strike up a conversation something would come up,-- he’d have to go somewhere, or the brats had gotten themselves in trouble again. And when Satoru Gojo found out about his little “crush”...  oh boy, the teasing was lethal.

It wasn’t long before he craved your touch, and Ryomen Sukuna started to enter withdrawal from your presence. You were brutal, the poison continuously being pumped into his veins, – which was extra ironic, considering he was after all the King of Poisons, – how the actual hell did he end up in such a position? What have you done to him? 

Man, he was cooked. 

With a lot of time, and a heck of a lot of patience, did the curse finally allow himself to reveal more of himself to you. 

It’s never been easy, – even after you two were married did Ryomen Sukuna still suck absolute ass at communicating his wants. 

He craved your attention, your gaze, your approval. You were the drug that he simply couldn’t get enough of. 

He’s not good with words, – in the past everything was just handed to him, – he had no clue how to actually work for someone’s affection. 

Please be patient with him, – he’s trying, he really is 🥺. No matter how much he denies it, no matter how much he complains he hates being dependent on someone, no matter how much he claims how meaningless love is, you both know deep down these feelings of deep admiration and affection aren’t one sided. Sometimes, that fact alone can get you through even his most frustrating of times. He pushes you away because he feels guilty, but almost immediately does he regret his actions and desire your presence more than anything. The things you do to him 

He lost his original form centuries ago, abandoning it after his near fatal confrontation with the sorcerers of the Heian Era. Gravely wounded, he absolved to staying hidden, laying low in the shadows. Sometimes he wished he still had that form, – still had his four arms, his two faces– he felt stronger, prettier in that body. Despite how much you told him how beautiful his current, two-armed form was, he wonders if you would’ve liked his original form– what it could do, how it could please your body. (But most of all he missed his two massive cocks to shove deep inside you–)

Ryomen Sukuna is very insecure about his image as the feared “King of Curses”. He’d be seen as weak, like he’d gone soft, – if anyone found out about you. That did little to deter you from showering him with your affections though <3 Even if he struggled to receive such affections–:

“What the actual hell do you think you’re doing–” 

“What? Am I not allowed to visit my darling husband at his job?” 

“No- ..! Who exactly do you think you are, you can’t just waltz into wherever to embarrass me–” You were in an empty classroom in what would be the normal time for lunch. The students would be out eating, so it was only you and him.

“Is that really all you think I do? Embarrass you?” You fought to conceal the pained expression threatening to bubble up to the surface. 

“Yes! Do you know what they’ll think of me if they see me with you? He snaps angrily

“Are you.. Ashamed of me?” You blink 

“What-? No, of course not” His face contorts into a scowl 

“Then why can’t people see me with you?!” 

“That’s not what I meant–” He hisses 

“Yeah?” you retort, “then, what did you mean by that?” 

“I–....”  Ryomen Sukuna only ever seems to find himself short of words with you

Nodding curtly, “I’ll take my leave then” you make your way to the door 

“Wait-” you pause, he hated seeing you upset. It made him feel hopeless, it made him feel weak. “tsk, nevermind. Leave then” 

Huffing, you step out the door. Your second foot never even leaves the threshold before you’re lifted up by a pair of strong arms. 

“Gah-! Ryomen– what the hell?!” 

“Shut up.” the curse growls, placing you down on the nearest desk with a surprising gentleness, “just shut up.” He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck

You smile, accustomed to his brazenness, knowing this was him succumbing to his own affections for you.

“I’ll be quieter next time.” 

“Mmm… don’t be”

“Oh?” you quirk an eyebrow, “are you no longer embarrassed of being seen with me?” 

“No,” he grumbles, “if any pathetic worm dares to utter something against me, I’ll cleave their head off” 

Chuckling, “charming”

“I’ll do it for you too” that part he whispers, so low you almost miss it. Almost. 

“Awh, you’d slaughter anyone putting dirt on my name? And they say romance is dead 🥰” 

“Shut the hell up.” 

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

Sukuna Ryomen would have a special ringer set for you in his phone so whenever you’d text him he’d know it was you 

He never responds to anyone’s texts,-- anyone’s that’s not yours. 

The second he hears that notification that man is immediately scrolling. It took him years to figure out how to work a telephone,-- and he still kinda sucks at it. So it takes him a while to respond, – he’s just a slow typer :) 

He’ll be in the middle of sparring with Yuji for his training when he’ll hear your notification and swiftly whip out his phone, – still in the middle of fighting. Poor Yuji will still be sweating his ass off trying his very diddly darn hardest to land a singular punch and he won't even glance up from his phone 😭

It doesn’t matter what he’s doing, – the guy could be in the middle of fighting a Special Grade and he’d start texting you about what he wants for dinner while simultaneously throwing slashes 😟

Not big on PDA, – but alone? Man, you can’t get the bastard off you, – blud’s clingier than a kitten 😭he just really likes being nice and snuggled up in your arms 

Alone, will often call you, – regardless of gender, – doll, (whore), sweetheart (if you’re not being a pain in the ass), – possessive lil’ shit and likes to add ‘my’ in front of any pet name, just to enforce the fact that you’re his. 

Calls you karasu –(Japanese word for raven) 

Sukuna Ryomen is incredibly picky with what he eats, (unless it’s your ass–)     – he needs his meals done in a very specific way, otherwise he’s just not eating. It needs to be your meals too. If bro forgets to bring lunch or you don’t have time to make one for him he just starves. He’s an absolute menace when hangry– super grumpy. None of the students can stand him hungry, – and he refuses to defile his delicate palette with fast food of all horrible things

You got some of those cute cookie cutters for sandwiches and gave him little star sandwiches one day for his lunch. Mans was over the fucking moon. His ass refuses to ever eat another sandwich again unless its cut into cute lil’ shapes 🤏🥺

Be careful if you ever decide to visit him at work after a certain amount of times, cuz he will make you useful: using you as a sparring partner, giving you chores, making an example out of you to the other students. 

You’re strong enough to hold your own against the King of Curses in a quick spar, – which really only means you won’t get immediately eviscerated upon throwing hands. 

You’re strong, but nowhere near as strong as Ryomen Sukuna. 

He’d only give you a cocky smirk, telling you to hurry up and lock in. You stare at the expecting faces of Megumi, Nobara and Yuji – who you naturally have grown a rather close bond to, being around each other so often. He gives you a reassuring thumbs up, smiling with an expectant glamor. You gulp, glancing back at your husband who has the most shit-eating grin on his face. Oh, you were cooked. 

You manage to successfully dodge at least two strong attacks before being thrown onto your ass, the wind knocked out of you. Huffing, you scramble up, irritation giving you newfound determination. The King only raises an eyebrow at you. 

You explode into a sprint, dashing up behind him, seemingly catching him off-guard. You lean in real close to his ear, whispering in a sultry tone: 

“Your shoelace is untied” 

“What, I’m not even wearing shoelaces–” and he gets thrown into the nearest tree, snapping it in half. 

“Hahah!!” 

“No way, Sukuna just got his ass handed to him!” Nobara exclaims, grinning

“That was so cool!” gushes Yuji, sending a wave of pride flowing through you at his excitement. 

It is short lived, as your husband comes up behind you, glaring with a burning passion in his eyes. 

“You totally beat him up, you sent him flying–” Megumi slaps a hand to Yuji’s mouth, his rambling getting choked off with a “mmph-!” 

His smile is laced with dynamite as Sukuna dismisses the students early. Confused, but mostly relieved, the trio scurry away, Nobara and Yuji shouting cheery goodbyes over their shoulders. 

Only you were close enough to see the raging lust in the King of Curse’s many eyes. His gaze rakes over your body, tensed in a fight or flight state, predatory. You swallow, hard, chuckling nervously, “Heheheh…”  

Oh man, you were so horribly, undoubtedly cooked. 

(short smut begins below line)

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[AFAB vers.]

Sukuna is brutal, hips smashing against yours, large hands gripping so hard large bruises start to form on your hips. You cry out, sobbing, pleading with him to slow the fuck down. Sukuna only clicks his tongue, condescension dripping from his tone, 

“Where’s all that confidence and strength from before, eh?” 

“h..*hic*..huh-?” 

“Tsk,” he grunts, slamming himself particularly hard into your leaking heat, causing you to scream in both pleasure and pain

“S..sukuna-!! P- *hic* please..-! I-..I can’t— I can’t– OHH~” You keel over, knees giving in from underneath you. You stay pressed firmly against the teacher’s desk– his desk–  in his empty classroom, – only being held by Sukuna’s deadly grip. “I-It *hic*.. It– HURTS..- *hic*” 

“You can,...  and. you. will.”  he punctuates each syllable with another unforgivable thrust, “You seemed confident enough you.. *pant* take me in a..- *pant* .. in a fight– fuck–” Warm cum swells, coating your insides white. 

Your eyes roll violently to the back of your head, thighs squeezing desperately against him, instinctively trying to milk him for all he’s got, – despite the excess cum already spilling from your abused hole, kept in only by Sukuna’s massive cock. Was this the fourth or the fifth time..? 

You lost count ages ago, numbers losing all sense of value along with everything else in your head, Sukuna absolutely fucking your goddamn brains out. Dumbed by his cock, you could only limply gaze dreamily through lidded eyes, a look of pure bliss on your face. 

Sukuna grins down at your fucked out face, admiring you as his masterpiece. You looked so pretty impaled on his cock. Pulling your head back by your hair, he smashes his lips onto yours in a sloppy kiss. You truly were the best thing to come of his long, cursed life. 

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

[AMAB vers.]

Sukuna is cruel, hips smashing against your ass, large hands gripping so hard large bruises start to form on your hips. He fucks you, bent over the desk, – his desk, in his empty classroom,-- and shaking like a pathetic mutt. You cry out, sobbing, pleading with him to slow the fuck down. Sukuna only clicks his tongue, condescension dripping from his tone, 

“Where’s all that confidence and strength from before, eh?” 

“h..*hic*..huh-?” 

“Tsk,” he grunts, large hand closing around your swollen, throbbing cock. Your eyes widen in horror as he begins to jerk you off at a grueling pace, causing you to scream in both pleasure and pain

“S..sukuna-!! P- *hic* please..-! I-..I can’t— I can’t– OHH~” You keel over, knees giving in from underneath you. You stay pressed firmly against the desk only held by Sukuna’s torso. “I-It *hic*.. It– HURTS..- *hic*” 

“You can,...  and. you. will.”  He punctuates each syllable with another unforgivable thrust, syncing with a violent pump to your cock, limpand emptied out. “You seemed confident enough you.. *pant* take me in a..- *pant* .. in a fight– fuck–” Warm cum swells, coating your insides white. 

Your eyes roll violently to the back of your head, thighs squeezing desperately against him, instinctively trying to milk him for all he’s got, – despite the excess cum already spilling from your abused hole, kept in only by Sukuna’s massive cock. You're so drained, already milked dry, a few meager squirts of cum dripping from your cock. Was this the fourth or the fifth time..? 

You lost count ages ago, numbers losing all sense of value along with everything else in your head, Sukuna absolutely fucking your goddamn brains out. Dumbed by his cock, you could only limply gaze dreamily through lidded eyes, the look of utter worship on your face enough for him to harden once again inside of you. 

Sukuna grins down at your fucked out face, admiring you as his masterpiece. You looked so pretty impaled on his cock. Pulling your head back by your hair, he smashes his lips onto yours in a sloppy kiss. You truly were the best thing to come of his tedious, damned life. 

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Sukuna brain-rot goes hard-!! He's such a goofy lil' guy, I love him :3

[cloudiinumaki]

DYING so thankful your requests are open omg

So so so

Megumi X reader, one bed trope, LISTEN they're like at a mission out of town w the others, gojo Def set it up so their room has one bed, it's autumn so it's cold as shit, AND everyone thought one would cave and sleep on the floor, but they actually slept together, and in the morning yuji and Nobara swing the door open to wake em up (ofc without knocking cuz those two Def don't knock) and find em fast asleep together, *explodes*

night in miyagi — megumi fushiguro

NOTES ! — thank you for being my first request !!! i yapped sm on this oml since u didnt put a specific format but pls enjoy !! WARNINGS ! — fluff, lowercase (my signature), megumi in denial, mutual feelings but they're kinda stupid respectfully REQUESTS OPEN !

"seriously?"

that was the first thing you'd told megumi, your hand coming up to rest against the nape of your neck as you surveyed the hotel room that you two were placed in.

it was a decent room, even having a small mini fridge that you'd probably raid in the morning and leave the hefty charge to gojo, but that wasn't why you'd said it. still dealing with the bags outside the room, megumi raised a slight eyebrow.

what, were you still irritated that you'd all been sent on this mission in the first place?

your little group was on a mission in miyagi, having cleared a hefty group of cursed spirits earlier in the day. whilst gojo had called it an excursion, painting it as a fun trip (which both nobara and yuji fell for entirely), you and megumi had come to the conclusion that gojo was pushing another mission onto you all.

your muscles ached, feeling the familiar exhaustion to your bones, and you huffed slightly. fortunately, none of you had gotten injured, but you were irritated enough by how awfully convenient gojo's method of training you all was for him: giving you his missions.

megumi sighed as he entered the room; his thoughts had been much the same thing earlier.

"what is it?" he asked simply in return to your dry words, entering the hotel room. it was much too late for the group to travel back to jujutsu tech— except for gojo, who he supposed could teleport back whenever— so they'd all gotten hotel rooms.

as expected, yuji and nobara had their own ones, though gojo had informed you and megumi that you'd be sharing one, with some stupid reasoning.

he'd been peeved when gojo said that, but megumi had relaxed and made the entirely reasonable assumption that there'd be two beds, at the very least.

as he glanced up and assessed the room though, megumi realised how he'd assumed much better of gojo than he actually was.

there was only one bed.

what a cliche, megumi internally noted, and he was starting to realise just how much he really hated gojo. he'd definitely planned this. or, considering the situation for a moment more, it might've been gojo and nobara in conjunction.

after all, it felt like they thrived off nothing more except teasing him, especially when it came to the topic of you.

somehow, everyone at jujutsu tech had silently come to the agreement that there was something going on between you and megumi. and, if they hadn't come to that agreement, then they at least were sure of the fact that megumi liked you.

megumi wasn't an obvious person, in his opinion, his actions relatively understated, but if one were to pay attention: it'd become relatively clear that megumi considered you differently to anyone else he knew.

it might've been in how his eyes glanced up to you first when he entered a room, how he'd bear stuff he hated just because you liked it (like the red bell peppers in your favourite dish, and that one cheesy movie that he'd openly despised before he met you), or one of his other subtle changes.

but, he wasn't going to admit that to himself. no. as far as he considered it, they were all quite delusional about what they were seeing.

"so, what are we going to do about this?" you asked after a moment, sighing slightly.

oh, this felt awkward. beyond awkward, in fact, and this felt awfully like gojo's doing, or nobara's now that you thought of it.

you'd liked him for a while, and though nobara had urged you incessantly to say something or drop some sort of a hint, you'd never once tried. it was megumi you liked, after all.

sure, he was pretty, his navy blue eyes with hints of green being the topic of your thoughts quite a few times, as well as his long, full eyelashes…

but, he was also your classmate and friend. a confession with stakes like that seemed practically absurd to you, even if you had to settle for occasional unseen glances at his face instead.

megumi was silent for a few moments, considering his options.

either him or you could take the floor, whilst the other took the bed. it'd save from the proximity, but feeling the chilly air that ghosted against him even as he stood, it didn't ease his mind very much.

the other option… was not an option. not at all.

but, before he could speak, you cut him off unintentionally, saying with a sheepish smile, "i can take the floor?"

it was clear you were trying to respect his usual requirements for distance, though megumi couldn't help but frown at your words.

it was cold, and as the night drew on, he knew the bite of the frigid air would only get more intense. knowing that, how on earth was he meant to let you sleep on the floor, regardless of whether it was carpeted or not and you had warm layers?

and, honestly, even if it wasn't cold, megumi had the feeling he'd be just as opposed to the idea.

"what? no," he said simply, his tone seeming just as usual. he didn't miss your slight huff at that, avoiding your gaze subtly.

"then, what do you suggest, megumi?" you asked in return, crossing your arms over as you drew over to the bed and flopped down.

you could feel the exhaustion in your entire body from fighting those curses earlier, and felt a slight irritation at him for drawing the conversation out so far. you just wanted to sleep. it wouldn't be comfortable, you were well-aware, but at this point, you were probably tired enough to sleep standing up.

megumi tried not to sigh again— he'd done so a lot in these past few minutes— looking away from you as he spoke.

"i'll take the floor, don't overthink it," he decided in his usual dry voice, and he hoped his words didn't betray just how odd he felt at this moment.

whilst he couldn't shake the annoyance he'd felt towards gojo for putting him in this situation, he also wasn't hating being able to speak to you right now.

"that's what I just offered, though," you said, "you can't just say no, and then do it yourself."

megumi paused at your words, calling him out on his hypocrisy immediately. and, you were entirely correct to do so, if he was being honest, yet he didn't want to subject you to sleeping on the floor. he was not going to change his mind.

"it's fine," he said simply, moving to put down his bag and take out a few of his things.

once he was done, glancing back to you, megumi noticed the insistent and oddly cute frown on your face, as well as the way you rolled your eyes the moment you were sure he was looking.

no, you were not going to change his mind.

"seriously, it's fine."

"you're a hypocrite, you know that?"

"right." you and him were both the same.

"honestly…"

your words trailed off for a moment and you looked away with a slight frown, hoping you didn't seem flustered to him. you could never get used to megumi's gaze, so focused and attentive when you, or anyone was speaking. it didn't even seem like he was aware of how his gaze felt to you, and you were trying to keep it that way.

"i mean, we could just share the bed, right?"

megumi froze for a moment. it wasn't as if the possibility hadn't come to mind, he wasn't stupid, but megumi had also shoved it down and silenced it.

it wasn't as if he had a problem with you.

no, if anything, his problem was how much you were affecting him.

his problem was in the proximity, how close you'd have to be. that… that had changed his mind, yet he suffered on how exactly he was meant to articulate that it had. at his prolonged silence, you quickly tried to save yourself from the mounting embarrassment. "it's just that it's cold, only one blanket, you know? it'll be uncomfortable for whoever chooses the floor, is all I was thinking..." he noted your expression and words at that moment, slightly sheepish and clumsy, yet he didn't have the heart to shoot down your words.

"fine."

the words had come out easily when he was standing there earlier, able to brush the thoughts off as a logical decision to not get cold, but by the time he'd actually lied down, he felt his heart pick up for a moment. weird.

his dark hair was splayed against the pillow as he lied on his side, watching you flick the bedside light switch off and rest your head against your pillow.

it was silent for a few moments, megumi mentally playing through the events of the day, wondering how the hell he'd gotten himself so close to you, even though you'd both tried to give the other leeway, and then you spoke again. "your eyes are open, aren't they?"

"huh?"

"i guessed so. just go to sleep, okay?" you murmured as you opened your eyes for a brief moment, too tired to reconsider any of your words.

if you were entirely truthful with yourself, you'd acknowledge the fact that you were reeling at being so close to him. but, you were not, and you were insanely tired, so you didn't.

after a few moments, you added with a slight huff of amusement, using his own words against him, "don't overthink it."

megumi chose not to say anything in reply, which was perfectly fine with you, closing your eyes again.

before this point, he'd scarcely accepted the fact of him liking you, hardly allowed it to occupy his mind for more than a few moments at a time. but, now, he was realising something quite quickly. it wouldn't make a difference whether he tried to ignore these feelings or not, whether he ignored the teasing comments that held more truth than he wanted or not.

these feelings, they clearly didn't want to leave, anyway. confessing still seemed like a far shot, but megumi quietly recognised that his feelings towards you were definitely not that of a simple friends, realising that his next step would have to be him saying something to you about it, confessing what he felt.

he exhaled, closing his eyes finally.

out of the pan, into the fire or something like that…

BONUS ! —

"huh. don't you think they would've gotten up by now?" nobara huffed as her and yuji walked down the hallway, adding with a dramatic sigh, "i thought gojo was the lazy type."

yuji shrugged, unsurprised by nobara's slight jab at gojo, and he hummed in return, saying, "megumi usually gets up early… but, was yours and gojo's plan really necessary?" his tone was light and somewhat contemplative, glancing to nobara and noticing the amused glint to her brown eyes.

she tilted her head slightly, shaking her finger easily. "duh, those two never do anything about their feelings. but, honestly, one of them probably just slept on the floor."

yuji nodded in agreement, noting how obvious both megumi and you had managed to be about your feelings, without anything ever actually progressing. it was almost impressive.

the moment that nobara reached the room, she entered without a thought, not expecting to see anything particularly different to what she'd guessed just now.

she paused at the entrance of the door, forcing Yuji to stop in his tracks too as they saw the sight, both glancing at each other with genuine shock in their eyes and features. "no way."

from their view, they could see the two fast asleep next to each other, and even more shocking, you'd moved to loosely wrap your arms around megumi's form, quietly breathing without a clue.

now, it almost felt cruel to wake them up, and yuji and nobara exited as quietly as they could manage, reeling from the sight. the moment that they had closed the door, they turned to each other, high-fiving (despite yuji having no involvement with the plan whatsoever), and nobara couldn't help the slight laughter that bubbled up at the sight.

once she'd collected herself, grinning widely with an undeniably self-satisfied look, she said, "remember our bet?"

yuji deflated at the reminder and he nodded forlornly.

"seriously?"

"yup. you owe me 300 yen now."

[haeryna]

feeling so high but too far away to hold me ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ;༊

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summary: satoru and suguru come to a critical conclusion, but is it too late for them to mend what was broken?

tw: angst, homophobia, abandonment, mentions of (unintentional) self harm, mentions of illness, barely proofread

notes: title taken from halsey's "without me." all images were taken from pinterest and are NOT mine! i'm not sure if i like how this came out but oh well gotta get through it lol. banner is from @/cafekitsune!

Lately, Satoru has been thinking a lot more about you.

He shouldn't be. Choso's been on his ass for stupid mistakes, like a slight misstep during practice, or the way his voice wavers ever so slightly on notes that are well within his vocal range. Nanami grumbles a bit more when recording sessions extend even further. Haibara brings him an extra water bottle during practice. Even Sukuna is slightly nicer to him, as if he can see how much Satoru is struggling.

Satoru hates it. It makes him feel weak, because he knows now that he misses you more than his heart can bear. He has women throwing themselves at him left and right, so why does a girl from a town he left behind make something in his chest twist? By all accounts, Satoru is thriving. He has a wonderful relationship with his boyfriend, his boy group has broken record after record with each single they release, and Satoru has just signed onto a brand deal with Chanel.

(He knows you're not just a girl, you were his. The only person he could bear to share Suguru with, the only person who could see past his flirtatious facade and say, "It's okay, 'Toru, I'm here for you." He knows the reason why he forces himself to believe you would have only shunned him like his parents, is to run from the realization that he abandoned you in the most horrific way possible.)

It doesn't help that his managers handle all of his social media accounts, and go through all his mail. As soon as him and Suguru signed onto the same agency, their phone lines were decommissioned, and they were given highly protected personal phones. You wouldn't be able to reach him even if you wanted to. Hell, they barely even saw Shoko, and the only reason was because they were both the only people who trusted her to take care of their medical needs.

Suguru had tried, once, to ask about you, to get a way of contacting you. Shoko had looked him dead in the eyes, steel hidden behind soft brown, and told him that, "if you were just going to abandon her like that, at least have the decency to stay gone until they could commit to her fully." The way Suguru's face had paled only confirmed the worst for Satoru; you hadn't understood. You had seen their leaving as the worst kind of betrayal. Shoko had refused to tell them more, stubborn in her loyalty to you.

At first, it was easier to hide shame behind a kind of disdain. Of course you hadn't understood what it had been like, being rejected so violently by parents you once loved. Of course you hadn't understood what it was like to feel the noose tighten around your neck until you knew you would either run, or die. Maybe if you couldn't let them go, it meant you truly had never loved them anyways.

As the months grew, slowly and surely, the tangle of excuses unraveled. You might not have understood, but you had defended him silently in small rebellious ways. The eyeshadow palette that still sat at his vanity. The birthday card you'd made him when you turned 14, with a small rainbow under the phrase "I'll love you no matter what." You too had felt the noose; you'd spent years fighting it, fighting your hatred of the small town you were forced to grow up in. "Satoru, Suguru, Shoko," you would tell them, "one day we'll all move out of here into the nicest, fanciest apartment in the city."

Grief was love with nowhere to go, and in that particular moment, Satoru found your absence particularly painful. Sighing, he stretches, resting his chin on the back of the couch to stare at the clock. 12:36; Suguru was probably still awake. Quietly, Satoru pads to the spare room in the apartment he shares with Suguru that they'd converted into their music and production room. Unsurprisingly, he finds Suguru perched on an old barstool they thrifted, gently strumming the strings of the guitar you'd gifted him so long ago.

"Satoru," Suguru says softly, pausing. "What's wrong? I thought you'd be asleep by now."

Wordlessly, Satoru wraps his arms around him, nuzzling into the slope of his neck. After a few moments, he speaks.

"I miss her."

He can feel the way Suguru stiffens slightly in his arms, before exhaling, tension releasing from his shoulders. "I miss her too. I've been thinking, Satoru."

"That's dangerous for you," Satoru chides, and Suguru rolls his eyes fondly.

"You're such a brat. I've been thinking, what if we went back?"

Satoru blanches, staring at Suguru. "What?"

"Not permanently," Suguru hastily amends, knowing how deep Satoru's scars run. "Just enough to...I don't know, Satoru. We messed up really badly. I know there's a large chance she won't even be there anymore. She used to always tell us about how she couldn't wait to move to the city. But we can at least start there, right?"

The news of Satoru's hiatus caused enough ripples for even you to notice it. Despite the fact you avoided anything to do with both his and Suguru's music career, every news outlet, radio channel, and social media post had something to say about it. Hell, you couldn't even open the local newspaper without seeing his face plastered on it, lamenting his temporary break from the group's next comeback.

Frowning, you slam the kitchen cabinet door a bit harder than necessary. Why should you care? If anything, you should be gloating with this piece of information, that not everything was perfect in Gojo Satoru's idol career. Yet, a small part of you still worried. Was he eating alright? Did something happen to Suguru? Should you call Shoko?

The door chimes, startling you out of your thoughts. Your parents are back in the hospital undergoing another round of treatments but they could have came back early. Sighing, you walk over to the door, opening it without a second thought.

"Hi, what-"

In that moment, you feel several emotions. Regret, that you hadn't checked who it was before opening it. An odd blend of concern and fear; why had they come back, was something horribly wrong? Most overpoweringly, was the deep sense of anger that welled up inside of you, seeing both Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru standing on your doorstep.

"You're here," Sator- Gojo, breathes, crystalline blue eyes greedily drinking in the sight of you. He reaches for you, but you flinch back.

"What are you doing here?"

You're surprised to see that Gojo seems hurt by that statement. Sugu- Geto steps closer. "We wanted to see you."

"Oh, so a whim?" You can't help the harshness of your voice, or the way that your voice trembles ever so slightly. "Its been years, Geto. Five years since you left, and you come back now? What am I, just an afterthought? I already knew that but my god you're such an asshole."

"That's not what I'm saying," Geto sighs, and you want to throttle him. "We missed you so much, I can't even-"

You can't help but cut him off, fists clenched and hot tears pooling in your eyes. "You could have left a note. You could have left me an address, could have reached out once you settled in, anything!"

It's Gojo's turn to speak, hands fidgeting as if he wants to pull you close. "Our managers-"

"I don't care!"

A hush falls after your outburst, and you can't help the tears that slip down your cheeks. "Did I really mean that little to you? I would have left with you, I would have done anything for you, so don't you dare try to come up with an excuse. Don't try to tell me that your managers stopped you. I loved you." Your voice breaks. "How could you?"

Both men look ashamed. Geto is the first to speak. "We thought you would have moved away. We lost our original numbers, and Shoko refused to-"

Your eyes flash. "Don't try to blame Shoko for this. Unlike the two of you, she stayed with me."

Gojo flinches. "That's not fair. We didn't have a choice, why can't you see that?"

A sardonic laugh escapes your lips. "See what? All I see is the choice you made in leaving me behind."

"What happened to you?" Geto breathes, and you fight the urge to slap him. "You were so adamant that you would get out of this town."

"Well I can't," you hiss. "Not all of us can abandon their loved ones without a second thought."

Gojo's face looks like you've just shattered his world. "You never left?"

Something in the way he says that breaks something inside of you. "Mom and Dad have whatever Grandmother had," you tell them. You're not even sure why you're saying this, but there's a sick sense of pleasure in watching it start to sink in. "There's nobody else to help take care of them. Whenever she can, Shoko will try her best to stop by."

"You've been alone," Geto murmurs, horrified.

Venom fills your mouth. "I have been since I was sixteen, thanks for asking. You think I didn't notice that you two were together? You never even said anything to me and I still figured it out." Gojo's face pales but you plow forward. "It was always Satoru and Suguru, Gojo and Geto, but what about me? I was there too, wasn't I?" Blood drips down your palms; you're digging your nails in hard enough to cut. "You two forgot about me. You discarded me, left me behind. Did you really think so little of me? Did you really think I would treat you like everyone else in this town?" You can see the pain in Geto's eyes. "As if it wasn't enough, I had to see you everywhere. It's nice seeing how quickly both of you replaced me with other women."

Gojo calls your name but you shake your head, vision blurring. "Go fuck yourself, both of you. Don't talk to me. I wish you'd never come back." Whirling back inside, you slam the door, ignoring the frantic banging and shouts. As you sink to the floor, you finally allow yourself to sob, curled up against the solid wood doorframe. I thought it was over, you think miserably. But somehow it hurts more than the day they left.

[bambihrt]

HII HI

I love how you wrote Adam from hazbin hotel so I have a request! It is a little ANGSTY so if you don't want to do it it's okay!

Can you do Adam and his wife going to hell for extermination day and his wife saves him from nifty but also gets hurt by nifty?-

Sorry it's a little complicated I hope you have a good day!

thank you so much! i was listening to some sad music and let this get super angsty, i might come back and do a part 2 or an alternate ending later on

Dying was easy.

Waking up to the pearly gates and realizing you've been rewarded with heaven, made every decision in your life leading up to this moment worth it. You knew as long as you were a good person then good things would come to you. And the best thing you could ever hope for came in the shape of your husband Adam whom you met not long after entering heaven.

The angel was enamored the second he laid his eyes on you. Standing in line at the frozen yogurt shop while biting your lip and scanning the menu. You were the the most beautiful woman he's ever seen and being the first man, he'd seen a lot of women. He abandoned whatever Lute was saying to him and made his way over to you to strike up a conversation.

You two quickly formed a deep and intimate relationship. 'I love you's were all the other residents of heaven could hear when seeing the couple out. Over time you made your way up to being an exorcist as Adam hated parting with you for even a day. He couldn't think on the job properly as he'd count down the time until he got to see you again.

Though you didn't completely agree with extermination, this opinion was never voiced with your husband as you didn't see the conflict necessary. But this upcoming extermination day was worrying you. Of course, your husband being the man he is, had made an enemy of the princess of hell. As powerful as he may be and as nice as the girl was when you met her, you knew when push came to shove she'd have a lot better chance of winning a fight than he did. Your only peace of mind was that angels couldn't be killed. At the back of your mind you couldn't help but wonder 'what if they can be?'

You watched from afar while you were battling a hellborn, your husband fighting Lucifer, king of hell himself. The anxiety and pit in your stomach worsened the moment you saw one of your own go down. The second your husband met the ground, your instincts kicked in. While his back was turned in a rant, you watched a small red-headed girl make her way over. Your ears rang as you flew as fast as you can to push the love of your immortal life out of the way.

Your noble decisions seemed to still be giving you good luck as you had managed to save your Adam. Your presence drew the attention of everyone nearby. Seeing your lover's face look at your own brought you a smile. As you tried to speak to him you started to choke up. Coughing up gold liquid into your hand, you came to the same conclusion as when you had first become immortal. Dying was easy.

Black dots started to close around your vision and you fell to your knees. Your husband's arms caught you before you could fall onto your face. His face was horror-stricken. You tried to reach out to caress his cheek but you were too weak to make it. The wind lulled you to rest as he shot up to heaven's portal with you in his arms. The last thing you saw before your vision went black was Adam's face yelling out to you though you couldn't hear it.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Here’s a Jason idea for you: imagine a criminal he’s fighting as Red Hood suddenly mentions you, by name, to mess with Jason. Jay would absolutely obliterate the criminal, but that leaves the question of how his enemies know about you… I love the potential for angst/protective Jason 😍 Also, I love your writing so much, it always makes my day to see you on my feed! Thank you for sharing your writings 💞🥰

Tw: blood and violent stuff.

Also thank you for enjoying my stuff! It’s really appreciated and makes me wanna write a lot more in the future. It’s just nice being reminded that people do like the stuff that I put out and not hate it as much as I do when looking back on them.🤣 🦦

A well placed punch to the face landed the criminal flat on his back as he groaned upon impact and was currently struggling to get back up to his feet, only to be pinned by a heavy combat boot weighing down on his chest. Finally Jason had caught up with the drug dealer that had been lurking near children and vulnerable adults alike for the past couple of days, and right where he wanted him too.

‘It’s such a shame that you caught me as fast as you did RedHood because just you came along, I was going to pay one last person a visit before the night was over.’ The criminal smiled, showing off his blood stained teeth in the process, his smile then became a grimace as Jason put more of his weight onto his chest. ‘Well it was a good thing that i came when I did because after tonight, you won’t be selling drugs to anyone anymore, that I can guarantee.’ Jason growled, feeling his blood boil hotter for every second that he didn’t put a bullet in this assholes head.

‘What was their name?’ The criminal trailer off, not heading Jason’s warning and throwing his head back and laughing. ‘Oh right now I remember, it’s Y/n. What a pretty name for an even prettier person.’ Jason froze at the mention of your name, his blood had gone cold but his anger skyrocketed at the insinuation of you being placed in any sort of danger. Whether it be by a drug dealer or otherwise, the same conclusion was to be expected with Jason and that was that he would personally hunt down every last thug, drug dealer and crime lord that ever dared to speak your name.

Jason wordlessly then grabbed the criminal by the collar of his shirt and threw him into a wall with all his strength. Watching on as the scumbag crumpled the floor as he then began to stalk towards him before gradually breaking out into a run and brutally ramming his knee into the criminals head. Jason wasn’t done there though, not by a long shot. He wanted the make the bastard pay for having your name come out of his filthy mouth, he wanted to tear him limb from limb, put him back together again so that he could rip him limb from limb all over again before ever giving him the satisfaction of death.

‘You will never, ever, ever bring anyone to harm ever again! Not while I’m here, not while I’m still breathing and able bodied enough to tear you fuckers to bits!’ Jason hissed pure venom as each of his punches become more and more brutal then the last, his knuckles were going to bruise like hell and hurt like hell too, but the pain and punishment he’d receive would be all worthwhile if it meant keeping you safe and sound. Jason would gladly taken on any punishment anyone could throw at him if it meant you remained unscathed, he’d happily gain more scars on his body if it meant that you could sleep easier at night, Jason always had your best interests in mind whenever he was clearing the streets of Gotham.

He was doing it for you, he was doing it for the kids at Crime Alley, he was doing it so that everyone could have a peace of mind; And he didn’t care about the methods he took to obtaining that.

It wasn’t long until the criminal stopped moving all together, Jason didn’t care that his fists were stained with blood, he just stood up and left the criminal in the alleyway where he was brutally beaten to death and headed home; to you with a heavy mind and a growing pit within his stomach because if a low life scumbag like him knew you by name…then who else did? Black mask? Penguin? Two face? Scarecrow? Carmine Falcone? He didn’t like to think about this one but does Joker know? All these thoughts running through Jason’s head didn’t do him a whole lot of good with his ever growing sense of dread and slight paranoia; He had to get to you and he had to get to you now before anything else happened before the night ended.

‘I’m coming baby, just please still be there when I get home, please don’t let them take you away from me.’ Jason muttered under his breath as he pushed himself forward as he ran from rooftops to rooftop, determined to make it to the apartment before anyone else does because if they did, may god have mercy on their souls because Jason would go to war for you and will violently cut anyone down to size if they were to come between him and you; For nothing got between you and Jason and if they did, Jason would make sure to deal with it before it became more of a problem.

‘Sweetheart? Are you in here?’ Jason called as he slammed the door behind him.

‘Jason? What’s-‘ you rushed into the room and gasped upon seeing the dried blood on his knuckles and his paling face as though he looked about to pass out where he stood. ‘Oh my god.’ You whispered as you rushed towards Jason who rushed towards you, arms out stretched to grasp your waist while your hands held his face. ‘What happened out there? I thought you said it was a simple mission.’ You said, concerned for Jason as he seemingly let out a sigh of relief and rested his forehead against yours.

‘It was meant to be a simple mission but then…’

‘Then what?’ You asked, stroking his cheeks reassuringly and feeling him melt into your touch like he did every night he came home from a long patrol or mission, but he also did it when he needed to feel you on him after waking up from a nightmare.

‘He said your name chipmunk.’ Jason squeezed his eyes shut as though he was trying to rid himself of the events that happened early on and focus on the feeling of your thumbs caressing his cheeks lovingly instead. ‘He said your name -clear as day I heard him say it- and before I knew it I was wailing on him until he stopped moving…all because he said how he was going to come for you next and I couldn’t…’ Jason paused to regulate his breathing that he hadn’t noticed had become fast and uneven the more his mind lingered on that small detail. ‘I couldn’t let him do that. I won’t let them take you from me. Never.’ He then tightens his grip on your waist as he kept uttering the extent he was willing to go to keep you in his life under his breath, almost as though it were a prayer or a promise, which ever one it was you weren’t quite sure but you let Jason squeeze you against his chest with his strong arms like a stress toy to his hearts desire.

‘It’s okay Jaybirdie. I’m right here, can’t you feel my warmth? Hear my voice? I’m right here baby. So you can squeeze me, hold me, cuddle me as much as you need to feel alright again because I’m not going anywhere with my Jaybird.’ You said loud enough for him to hear over his thoughts, pressing kisses into anywhere that you had access to, whether it be his shoulders, face, neck, forehead, you’d plant several kisses to each of those areas respectively. You may act calm but much like Jason, you too didn’t like the idea of some random criminal knowing your name. The implications of that were endless and it would be enough to put anyone on edge or even over it depending on their mental state, and to put it lightly Jason’s mental state wasn’t the healthiest.

The occasional whimper and sniff that came from him only made your heart hurt even more that you were willing to put aside your own fears about the situation to instead focus on comforting Jason, who must be feeling it ten times worse then you were, but it was the fact that in this moment you were bonded by a shared fear but that fear could be eventually overcame by the pair of you working together. ‘It’s okay baby it’s okay, we’re not going anywhere, they can’t make us because we’re stronger together.’ You spoke into the skin of his cheek as you finished pressed a thousand kisses onto them.

‘Stronger together.’ Jason echoed as he pressed himself further against you to feel you closer to him. ‘We’re stronger together.’ You smiled softly, seeing that you finally go through to him somewhat. However you were more than willing to stand in this position all night if it meant bringing Jason back from the edge within his mind because nothing was more important than having your Jason back.

‘That’s right baby.’ You cooed. ‘We’re stronger together, nothing will tear us apart.’

‘Promise?’ Jason asked looking deep into your eyes, it felt as though he was looking at you rather then through you which has your breath hitching in your throat momentarily.

‘I promise.’

[jaynahh]

# you confessed to kabukimono, scaramouche, and wanderer

(seperated)

# scaramouche

# kabukimono

"love?"

his doe eyes were blown wide at your confession, though it didn't take long for a smile to take over his expression.

"aw, you're so sweet. i wouldn't choose anyone else to be my companion!"

oblivious.

before you could explain yourself, he took your hand in his and lead you near a tree. he suddenly bent down and picked a flower. once he stood up, he held the flower with both hands, offering it to you.

"ah, i love you too..."

his mouth hung open, thinking of other words to say, but nothing came out. he clearly had no experience. after a moment, he spoke.

"i've heard that when two people love each other, they give each other flowers. oh, speaking of flowers, i've recently tried this one tea flavor made with this one flower–i should make it for you sometime."

um, he's quite innocent.

in conclusion, kabukimono does in fact love you too. he just doesn't have a full grasp of what love means yet.

(ooc, he is soft for u)

you did it. you finally admitted your feelings for him. not gonna lie, it was scary. in fact, you were borderline hyperventilating as you awaited his response, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

you two were next to each other. so close, yet so far. you couldn't see his expression from the way you stared at the ground in anticipation. the silence was eating you up inside, and you couldn't handle much longer.

"look at me."

his voice snapped you out of your thoughts, taking a moment to register his request.

"...just for a moment," he spoke.

though his voice was quieter than usual, it didn't help with your racing heartbeat and uneven breathing. you fidgeted with your hands, weighing your options, hesitating before lifting your gaze from the ground to his face. your body tenses subconsciously, preparing for his wrath and uncaring behavior.

his eyes widen upon seeing your expression. you were crying. why are you crying? he wants to ask, yet he stops himself. he notices you tense up. were you scared of him? he instead takes a different approach.

"keep looking, please."

he knew how you would always avoid eye contact. he hated it. it always irritated him how he'd never get to see your face, how you'd always hide when he wanted to see your expression the most.

"i'm not mad. i... i won't yell at you."

without much thought, his hand went up to your face–his heart broke at the sight of you flinching, regret filled his mind thinking of the times he'd been harsh towards you–his thumb brushing your tears away.

"i might," he stammered, "i might feel the same."

in conclusion, scaramouche never knew about his feelings towards you until he saw the tears on your face. he needs time to process his newfound feelings.

# wanderer

he wants to make sure that you know what you'd be getting yourself into. him, out of all people? are you out of your mind?

he pursed his lips, analyzing your expression and body language. inside, he really doesn't know how to respond. he doesn't really believe it.

"are you sure?" he asked.

"why wouldn't i be?" you respond.

his mind was racing with so many questions. "but, you know how i'm like." it's true, you two have hung out on multiple occasions. he had never put up a front with you–or with anyone, for that matter. you know his true self well. so, why?

deep, deep down, he may be a tad bit insecure. just a little. okay, he feels like he doesn't deserve love–he doesn't deserve you.

"do you really want to live with my annoying remarks for the rest of your life?" he crosses his arms and tilted his head, making him seem judgemental in a negative way–but he's worried. just a little worried about you.

he's not sure if he's able to trust someone to that extent, but with you... of course he loves you. he's just scared.

scared for one, that you'd get sick of him and hate his attitude, and two, you'd get taken away from him too.

he's warning you, but he's secretly hoping you'd ignore all his warnings. he needs a hug.

in conclusion, he always had an interest in you, though he hid it quite well. he never acted on those feelings in fear that you'd leave him.