#Slaughter's big rip off

[lobbycards]

Slaughter’s Big Rip-Off, Canadian Lobby Card, 1973

[sightseertrespasser]

Trying out a new method of story sharing.

Set in @keferon’s mecha AU sometime after Prowl and Swerve get rescued.

Sunny Side Screw-up

———————————————————————

Incoming communications…

BLUESTREAK: [Prowl.]

BLUESTREAK: [Prowl.]

BLUESTREAK: [Prowl do humans circle each other as a greeting.]

BLUESTREAK: [Is circling a sign of friendship or a threat time sensitive question please respond.]

PROWL: [What is going on? I need more information.]

PROWL: [Jazz says “Circling is not a sign of friendship but if you’re in Alt mode you’re fine, they’re just checking you out.”]

BLUESTREAK: [Not in Alt mode. Not in Alt mode.]

BLUESTREAK: [Oh Primus they’re getting closer.]

PROWL: [Where are you? The connection is weak, Bluestreak I need more information.]

BLUESTREAK: [So I got the short range shuttle like you asked and I was bringing it down onto the planet when a Quintesson rift opened up. And. A. BIG one latched onto the shuttle so I performed an emergenc-eeee they are getting very close now.]

PROWL: [Bluestreak? Are you under attack?]

BLUESTREAK: [I don’t know!]

BLUESTREAK: [Shuttle landed. Angry Quint. I couldn’t let them destroy the ship so I got its attention and drove away. The new quints they’re sending to Earth are MUCH faster then the normal ones by the way because I could not get enough distance ahead of it to get a safe shot but I had to TRY you know? So I went back into root mode and then it was ON me and I thought I was going to die and there was so much dust and then these two HUGE mecha came out of nowhere and RIPPED the quint apart like they were fighting over it.]

BLUESTREAK: [And now they’re looking at me! And I lost track of where the shuttle is. And the only English words I know are swear words so PLEASE HELP ME.]

PROWL: [Wait a moment. Jazz wants to try something.]

BLUESTREAK: [Wait?! Now? Prowl I think they’re sniffing me! Are they sniffing me? Is sniffing a sign of friendship? Can humans smell fear?]

PROWL: [ Blue! Can ya hear me?]

BLUESTREAK: [What? Yes I can still hear you.]

BLUESTREAK: [Wait is that Jazz?]

PROWL: [Bluestreak focus. We need to know who is with you, describe them as best you can.]

BLUESTREAK: [Oh that is so weird. Okay. Got it. There’s two of them, they’re both bigger than me, they look like fronliners, one’s red and the others yellow? I think? They’re both caked in dirt and gorAGH!]

PROWL: [Bluestreak!]

BLUESTREAK: [I’m fine! I’m fine! One of them got behind me and touched my doorwing. They backed off a little after I jumped.]

PROWL: [You’re not near any cities right?]

BLUESTREAK: [Yes! Or I guess no? I’m not anywhere near any sort of civilization. It’s basically nothing but desert, a slaughtered quint and two extremely intimidating mecha.]

PROWL: [Good news! Sounds like you ran into the twins Sunstreaker and Sideswipe! They’re a couple of Hunter Class mecha, they deal with Quints loose in mostly uninhabited areas. Basically bounty hunters who don’t work directly for Shockwave. They’re apart of another mecha program stationed in Europe that drop them off in a region for a week to kill everything in the vicinity.]

BLUESTREAK: [Great! Good! Now what do I do now? One of them is sniffing me again and the other looks like he wants to grab my face.]

PROWL: [They’re not sniffing you dude, they’re probably trying to check for damage and figure out what you’re supposed to be. Hunter Class don’t have external speakers which is why they haven’t said anything out loud. They’ve probably tried to radio to you to talk to you but obviously that ain’t happening.]

BLUESTREAK: [ The yellow one is poking me again! And the red one keeps waving?]

PROWL: [To them you appear as an unfamiliar Mecha of unclear purpose, with limited means of communication and looking rattled by both the quintesson attack and their presence. There is a 67% possibility you will be able to convince them you are a test pilot of an experimental mecha.]

PROWL: [Here’s what you need to do. Lean into the nervousness but try to focus it on the quint, not them. Try saying “Grazie” or “Thank you”. If you seem grateful and relieved that should instill a sense that they’re protecting you and supposed to be doing that. Technically they did just save your ass so you just gotta re-enforce that idea.]

BLUESTREAK: [I’ll try.]

BLUESTREAK: [I think it’s working? I’m kind of just rambling and pointing but their postures changed. Oh wow they’re even bigger when they stand up straight. How in the Pit is this working.]

PROWL: [Humans are hard wired to take queues from other people. It’s not like, mind control or anything but it’s really strong stuff. Shit man, 90% of the reason I stayed so calm while stuck in space was because Prowl stayed calm.]

PROWL: [Externally. And 82%.]

BLUESTREAK: [They’re walking off now. I can-]

BLUESTREAK: [They’re waving for me to follow now? What do I do?]

PROWL: [Shit.. I was worried about that.]

BLUESTREAK: [Please do not say that without elaborating.]

PROWL: [They either believe you are here to help them hunt, odds at 45%. Or they’ve decided the area is unsafe for you to travel alone, odds 74%. Possibly both.]

PROWL: [Bad news, either way you’re probably in the middle of a feral quint infestation. Good news, you’ve got a couple of scary ass bodyguards! Really bad news, those body guards think you’re a human pilot in a mecha.]

BLUESTREAK: [Why is that worse than “surrounded by feral quintessons”?]

PROWL: [Because if you get hurt, or visibly express that you’re in significant pain, the twins might try to perform an emergency extraction to save the “pilot”.]

BLUESTREAK: [Oh.]

BLUESTREAK: [Oh no.]

BLUESTREAK: [They don’t have alt modes though. I can get away from them right? Prowl please tell me my odds are good.]

PROWL: [There is a 70% they won’t pursue you if you did leave. However you are far more likely to die to quintessons while trying to locate the shuttle than if you temporarily accept protection from the twins.]

PROWL: [Besides, Hunter Mecha are built to be endurance predators. You will run out of fuel before they stop chasing you.]

BLUESTREAK: [So what you’re saying is that if I show any weakness an inescapable giant terrifying killing machine will run me to exhaustion and then rip out my still spinning spark? Oh no. Sorry. There’s two! ONE of them will tear open my chassis while the OTHER one will hold down my thrashing body!]

PROWL: [Actually, they might go for the face first.]

BLUESTREAK: [The face.]

PROWL: [If it happens, your best bet is to just keep yelling “Stop”.]

PROWL: [Behave as if it’s Elita One and you will be fine.]

BLUESTREAK: [Will I?!]

PROWL: [You will be fine because I will ensue you will be fine.]

PROWL: [We’ve been talking to everyone else the whole time we’ve been helping you. Ratchet knows Sideswipe and Sunstreaker and says they’ll listen to him over their actual bosses. Blurr is going to call Swindle who’s going to get in touch with the Twins’ program to get their contact details and Swerve is working out how to bounce the call from Prowl to you to them.]

PROWL: [This will take time. Myself and Jazz will stay available for consultation on everything. You greatest survival asset will be to maintain a positive rapport with these pilots. Assist them where you can but don’t risk sustaining any injury.]

BLUESTREAK: [Okay. Be helpful. Be endearing. Don’t show fear. Act like it’s Elita. Act like I’m human.]

BLUESTREAK: [Fuck.]

PROWL: [That’s the spirit.]

———————————————————————

A one shot story to get a feel for writing comms conversations.

Hunter Class mecha are basically the long haul truckers of the mecha world. Stopping Quintesson attacks on population centers take precedence but since they can drop anywhere, I imagine there’s a niche market for getting rid of the ones loose elsewhere on the planet.

-SSTP

[ponderingmoonlight]

I love your writing, you are very talented. Can I request a story about Sanemi? The story goes like this: “On the day when all the hunters are fighting Muzan, Sanemi's wife went into labor (could you put his wife giving birth to triplets?). I love you darling.

Sanemi's wife giving birth during the Infinity Castle Battle

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: You were so sure your husband will guide you through the delivery of your triplets until the fight between Muzan and the demon slayer corps - including Sanemi. Will you make it all on your own? And will your husband return to your side in time?

Warnings: this is pure drama and I cried a little while writing lol, never gave birth to a child so sorry if this is trash, big angst but fluff in the end, ENJOY 🤍

The night air is thick with tension, each breath you take carrying the weight of what is happening just beyond the horizon. You can feel it in your bones, a concerning anxiety that creeps up your spine and settles in your racing heart. Tonight is the night, the one you dreaded for so long—the final battle against Muzan Kibutsuji, the king of demons.

But for you, the darkness that threatens to consume the world is nothing against the raging in your own body. It was a risk all along and you knew it since Shinobu delivered the news to you. Getting pregnant at such times, carrying for a child in the middle of an endless battle? And to top it all off…With triplets?

“We’re gonna figure this out. Together. After all, I’ll rip off the head of anyone who gets too close to you!”

“You really don’t need to do that, Sanemi.”

The warm words of your husband linger in your mind while you stare at the dark ceiling. Oh, how much he cared for you this whole pregnancy, slaughtering demons in record time only to return to his wife a couple hours later. He did what he could, always stayed by your side and made sure everything went fine.

Until he had to leave. The contractions started early that evening, subtle at first, but now they come in waves that steal your breath and make you clutch at the sheets of the futon beneath you.

"Sanemi..." you whisper his name into the empty room, knowing he isn’t there to hear it.

Your husband is out there, fighting with everything he has, determined to bring an end to the nightmare that claimed so many lives already. He promised you that he’ll return, that he’ll come back to you and the children you carry.

“I’m here with you, Lady Shinazugawa. Breathe with me.”

But those promises feel fragile in the face of such overwhelming danger. Your midwife grabs your hand gently, her warm eyes desperately trying to comfort you.

Another contraction hits, this one stronger than the last. You bite down on your lip to stifle a cry, not wanting to alarm the Kakushi who are stationed outside the door. They are truly kind, offering their assistance constantly, but you sent them away with a forced smile and a shake of your head. You want to do this alone with your midwife, to bring your children into the world in the quiet peace of your home rather than in the chaos of battle.

But peace is a passing thing tonight.

You close your eyes and focus on your breathing, the way Sanemi had taught you during those brief, stolen moments of calm, like the midwife has shown him multiple times. He has always been so strong, so determined, and it is that strength you hold onto now. You imagine him beside you, his hand clasping yours, his voice a soothing balm against the pain.

“You can do it, darling. Just think about your breathing, concentrate on my voice. Let’s do this together.”

But as the hours wear on and the contractions grow closer together, you know you can’t do this without him. The pain is becoming unbearable, and your body betrays you, muscles tensing and convulsing as the babies make their way into the world.

A knock at the door breaks through your fog of pain, and a Kakushi enters, his face pale with concern.

“Lady Shinazugawa, please, let us help you. We’ve sent for Lady Kocho’s Tsugoko - she’ll be here soon.”

“I’m truly sorry Lady Shinazugawa, but a doctor is unavoidable at this rate”, the midwife adds while wiping away your blood that covers her hands entirely.

You want to protest, to insist that you can handle this on your own, but the words die on your lips as another contraction takes hold. The Kakushi rushes to your other side, his hands trembling as he helps you lie back against the futon together with your midwife.

“Just breathe,” the midwife murmurs, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“You’re doing so well. They’ll be here soon.”

You nod, biting back the tears that threaten to spill over. You never felt so alone, so vulnerable, and yet you know you have to be strong—for your children and for your husband who risks his life in battle at this very moment for you.

Time seems to stretch and contract in strange ways, and you lose track of how long you labor, each contraction blurring into the next. The room is spinning, the pain almost too much to bear. Just before your eyes threaten to flutter shut, the door bursts open and reveals Aoi.  

She immediately takes charge, her hands steady as she examines you.

“You’re doing wonderfully. It won’t be long now” she says with unusual gentle voice.

You can only nod, too exhausted to speak. The pain is relentless, a constant wave crashing over you, but there is a flicker of hope now, a sense that the end might be in sight.

“Sanemi…” you whisper again, your heart aching for him.

You want him here so bad, want him to see the birth of your children, to hold them and know that they are safe.

But as another contraction grips you, you know that wish is impossible. Sanemi is out there, fighting for his life, and you have to trust that he will return to you as soon as everything’s over.

“Hold on. The first baby is almost here. Just one more push”, Aoi’s voice cuts through the haze.

You gather every ounce of strength you have left, every bit of resolution you can collect, and with a cry that echoes through the room, you push.

And push.

And push.

The sound of a newborn’s wail fills the air, and for a moment, everything else fades away. Aoi holds up the tiny, squirming form, her eyes shining with pride.

“It’s a boy,” she announces with a warm smile and tears glistening in her eyes.

“Shinobu-san will be so proud of you.”

Tears spill over your cheeks as she places the baby in your arms. He’s so small, so perfect, with a shock of dark hair and eyes that blink up at you, unfocused but curious. You hold him close, your heart swelling with love.

But there is no time to linger. The next contraction hits you with full force, and you know the second baby is on the way. Aoi takes the firstborn from your arms, handing him to the Kakushi who remained by your side, and then she was there again, guiding you through the next birth.

The second child comes more quickly, and soon you are holding another tiny life in your arms - a girl this time, with her father’s fierce eyes and a shock of white hair that makes you laugh through your tears. You and your husband always wondered about how your children will look like.

“You really want them to have my hair? Hell no, I don’t want my kids to look like they’re 80 right from the start.”

And still, there is one more.

By the time the third baby arrives, you are beyond exhaustion, barely able to keep your eyes open. But you force yourself to stay awake, to see your third child. Another boy with a face so like Sanemi’s that it takes your breath away.

You hold all three of them close, your heart so full it feels like it might burst. They are perfect, each one of them, and despite the pain and the fear, you know it had all been worth it.

But even as you hold your children, a part of you remains stuck to the battlefield, to the man who risks everything to protect you and them. You pray that he’ll return, that he’ll survive this night and comes home to you.

Hours passed in a blur of exhaustion and overwhelming love. The Kakushi and midwife tend to the babies, cleaning them and wrapping them in soft blankets while Aoi ensured that you were stable until she was forced to leave as well. Everything seems peaceful – too peaceful.

But as the first light of dawn creeps through the windows, a new tension fills the air. The Kakushi who remained by your side was called away as well, his face pale as he listened to hurried whispers at the door. Your heart clenches with fear, knowing that whatever news arrived can’t be good at all.

“Do you…”, you begin, your voice trembling with worry as you try to talk to your stressed midwife.

But before she can answer, the door slams open and your heart leaps into your throat.

There he stands, his haori torn and bloodied, his eyes wild as they search the room. Can it really be him? Is it really possible that he…returned? In the matter of second, your tired eyes fill with tears, take in his sight. It really is him. He really made his way back to you.

“Sanemi!” you cry, relief flooding through you.

In an instant, he is at your side, his hands reaching for you as if to reassure himself that you are really there.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”, his rough voice mutters, strained with worry.

“I’m fine. I-…I’m fine,” you breathe out, your eyes overflowing with tears while taking in the sight of him.

He looks exhausted, battered from the battle, but he’s alive.

Your husband is alive.

“I’m fine, Sanemi. And so are they.”

His eyes follow yours to the three tiny bundles in your arms, and for a moment, he simply stares as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Then, slowly, he reaches out, his hand trembling as he touches the soft cheek of the nearest baby.

“They’re… ours?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nod, smiling through your tears.

“Two boys and a girl. They’re perfect, Sanemi.”

His breath hitches and you catch a glimpse at the glimmer of tears in his eyes when he gently takes the baby from your arms, cradling him as if he is the most precious thing in the world.

“They’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

“Just like their mum.”

You watch as he carefully holds each of your children, his eyes softening with a tenderness you’ve rarely seen. This is a side of Sanemi that few ever caught, a side that is all yours.

“They’re strong,” you add, your voice soft as you watched him with your daughter.

“Just like their father.”

He shakes his head, a rough laugh escaping him.

“No, they’re strong like their mother.”

You reach out, taking his hand in yours, needing to feel the solid warmth of him, to know that he’s really here.

“You came back to us,” you whisper, the fear that had gripped you all night finally releasing its hold.

He looks at you with his intense but somehow empty gaze.

“Hell, yeah, I promised you I would, didn’t I?”

You nod, a smile breaking through the tears.

“Yes, you did.”

Sanemi leans down, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead, then to each of the babies’ heads, his expression softening with each touch.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he vows, his voice a low, fierce whisper.

“No matter what fucking demon wants to kill me. But it’s over now, darling. It’s finally over.”

You believe him, with every fiber of your being. The battle is over, and you all survived. Your family is whole, and that is all that mattered.

“What about the others, are they alright-“

“No. Let’s talk about that another time. Right now, I just want to stay here like this for a while”, he interrupts you.

As the first rays of sunlight stream into the room, you lean into Sanemi’s embrace, your heart full to bursting with love for the man who chose you as his wife back then.

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @vrystalius @sanemifucker @blunderland

[calmcoldevening]

could we get some dick & masturbation hc for Art? Describe what it looks like, how big, how often he does it, etc. stuff like that

Art the clown NSFW ALPHABET

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He is as caring as possible for him. Art understands that you are a really important person in his life, for whom his "heart" is beating. So he certainly won't leave you alone after a hot night. But don't expect any super affection either. No. He'll just lie next to you and admire you. He really likes to see you so disheveled and wet, the thought that he made you like this makes him tough.

You're breathing heavily under Art, your hands are slowly sliding off his shoulders, because you're feeling damn tired, but happy. Art lies down on the bed next to you, putting one hand under your head, and stretches the other up, imitating the camera with his fingers and pressing the "snapshot button". Art giggles soundlessly, as if he really took such a photo, and now this piece of paper with you two will remain with him for many years. Then he turns to face you, watching your tired, relaxed expression. He briefly kisses your damp forehead, leaving a trace of his black lipstick on your face. Leaning back, he admires you with his trademark crazy smile.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Most of the time, he likes his fingers about himself. With their help, he makes various instruments of torture, "talks" with you, and also gives you pleasure. Art fucking likes to hear your sounds when he works with his fingers, he even takes off his gloves for this. But after the two of you have discovered your intimate life, Art can say with confidence that he likes his cock. Every time he sees you, especially if you bend down to pick something up from the floor, his buddy gets damn hard and hot.

Art likes a lot about you, perhaps. But most of all, he likes your voice. Art likes to rip out all those cute whining sounds and requests from your chest to speed up or touch you somewhere. He likes the sound of his name coming out of your mouth. It both excites him and seems sweet to him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

A lot. Dirty. He really likes to leave marks on you. It doesn't matter, inside, on the stomach, on the face. He can cum on your back or stomach and then drive for a long time over this white mass, drawing his name or hearts on you. He doesn't like using condoms, so you'd better use birth control (although he's a demon, it's not a fact that he can have children. And if he can, it's not a fact that the pills will help you)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Art would like to fuck you in front of other people. So that they can see how he can give you pleasure, make you scream because of the buzz. He likes the idea that you know about his murders. He wouldn't mind first slaughtering a bunch of people in front of you, and then fucking you among a mountain of corpses and blood.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

There is absolutely no experience. The whole "experience" is that before killing teenagers or adults, he often saw them fucking. But it's completely different from what he's experiencing with you. After your first time, Art really wishes you had tried it before.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl. He probably likes it when he's lying on the bed and you're on top of him. Art likes to look up at you when your face is so open to his observation. All your sounds, moans and cute facial expressions only make him pick up the pace. Art squeezes your thighs until they are clearly bruised and presses you harder against him. Anyway, it makes him feel superior, because only he can make you feel so good.

He also doesn't mind doggy style This is an opportunity to dominate you more. He will forcefully squeeze your hair to a slight exciting pain, kissing your neck, or caressing your breasts, which he also really likes.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

As your bodies entwine in passion, Art's usually playful demeanor shifts, his expression growing more intense and focused. The painted-on smile fades, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated concentration. His black eyes, usually twinkling with mischief, narrow to slits, fixed intently on your face and body. Art's movements are deliberate and forceful, a far cry from his usual goofy, comedic antics. He is completely absorbed in the act of making love, every thrust and roll of his hips calculated to drive you wild with pleasure. This seriousness, this total immersion in the act of sex, stems from Art's deep-seated need for connection and intimacy. In the heat of the moment, he is not the feared killer clown, but a man, vulnerable and exposed, your man. Yet, even in this moment of unguarded seriousness, a hint of the clown remains.

But after such a passionate moment, once you both manage to catch your breath a little, his usual playful personality will return.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is quite careless in this matter. Although Art cleans himself of blood and other entrails after murders, he is not overly clean. He doesn't care about his hair, either on himself or on his partner. But they are quite soft, so it shouldn't be such a big problem.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It depends on the events before your intimate relationship. If you just spent time together, then during sex Art will be quite relaxed and even gentle in its own way, but at the same time dominant. It is important for him to let the people around him know that you are his. He will bite you, leave you with small bruises from his strong grip and pull your hair. If Art killed before your sex, then the love session will be quite hot and animal. After the murders, Art gets damn possessive and hard, and the sight of blood on you only increases his arousal. You should probably hide his trash bag away if you want to stay whole after sex.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Alone in his dimly lit lair, Art's long, slender fingers wrap around his rigid member, pumping it in a slow, deliberate rhythm. His black-painted lips part in a silent moan as he imagines the sounds of his victim's terror and agony mingling with his own pleasure.

He jerks a lot after his murders if he hasn't you around him. Sometimes he imagines your face and your sweet sounds during your previous love session, but mostly he concentrates only on blood, guts and cries of pain and fear.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Sadomasochism. Blood play. Orgasm control.

Art has an insatiable appetite for sadomasochism. The more pain and suffering he inflicts, the greater his arousal. He delights in defiling his prey, often leaving them mangled and broken in his wake. After that, he returns to you, filled with wild desires. The more blood he managed to get out of the poor victim, the more passionate he will be. He also doesn't mind hurting you too, but this case is already limited to simple cuts and bruises, nothing serious. Although he may well carve his name on your back in large letters. The sight of blood excites him like a real vampire, so it's better not to keep a lot of sharp objects in the house (and his bag too).

The fact that Art can control your pleasure excites him like nothing else. Being able to show dominance in this way caresses his ego. It's going to be a long time.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Art doesn't really care where to do it. But still, he would prefer either your house or some kind of elongated gateway or something like that. If there are a lot of people around, it means that before sex he will have to get his hands dirty in blood again, and this will take a little time. Besides, Art is not against forests or abandoned places with a grotesque scary atmosphere. It adds some kind of thrill and animality to your intimacy.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The answer is obvious: blood, violence, you, murder.

He doesn't have any specific preferences, so it's impossible to say for sure. But seeing you in a Halloween clown costume would definitely turn him on. Or there's blood on you. But not everything is clear here. For example, other people's sex doesn't turn him on (it will only turn him on if he imagines you and him in their place), pain caused to you by someone else (if it's your period, then he will try to take care of you as much as possible, and if it's another person, Art will kill them)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Other people. He doesn't like them. He doesn't like to share. You're his and his only. Other people are just meat for his fun and aggression.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He doesn't mind at all. Although he has never done anything like this himself, he won't mind trying it. It will probably be a bit messy and clumsy at first, but if you give him time and show him how you really feel good, he will certainly learn. With his long fingers and flexible tongue, it will be very good.

He likes it when you show him your love in this way or just want to please him. He likes to look down on you, this is another time for him to prove his dominance in your relationship.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on his mood, but most of the time he chooses to be slower. Art likes to torture people and you are no exception. It's just that it's expressed differently with you. He will quickly bring you to the edge, and then immediately use slow caresses to tease you. He likes all those whining sounds he can get out of you, those moans and whimpers. He's even willing to give up killing if it gives him the opportunity to see you as such a cute and squirming needy thing.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Again, he's a lover of slow long-term pleasure, so no. But if you still ask him to do it quickly, because you really want to, he, of course, will not refuse you, although he will hardly restrain his sadistic hunger.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

There are no restrictions for Art in anything (except to let other people into your love games). He is always open to new things and experiments. Usually he is the initiator of something new in your life in the bedroom, but if you suddenly have some interesting dirty fantasies, do not hesitate to tell him, Art is always for it. The only thing is, he wouldn't risk your life too much. Severe injuries can attract the attention of other people, and losing you will be a significant loss for him. You are his personal toy, which he protects and loves in his own way.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Art is ready for any number of rounds, but his human body also has its limits. Therefore, 4-5 rounds, with rare exceptions, a little more. Also let's not forget that you are a human being, and Art would not want to put you out of action.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Art doesn't rely on external aids, preferring to use his skilled hands, agile tongue, and sheer force of will to bring pleasure and pain to you. He may, on occasion, incorporate items from his gruesome arsenal as props for role-play or sensory exploration (damn garbage bag..)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Art is quite a teaser. He likes it when you whine because Art won't let you come, or vice versa, goes too fast. First, he quickly leads you to the finish line, then delays the orgasm as much as possible with the caresses of his long tongue, and then his skillful fingers continue to quickly stimulate you after orgasm until you break your voice.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's mute, babe.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Art has an unusual fascination with the sensation of his victim's or partner's heartbeat against his bare skin. During intense moments of passion, he'll often pause to press his lips or nose against the racing pulse point, inhaling the primal, intoxicating rhythm as it syncs with his own lustful tempo. This quirk adds a darkly romantic and intimate layer to his depraved lovemaking rituals, blurring the lines between pleasure and pain, life and death.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Long and slender, it measures around 7-8 inches in length and 3.5-4 inches in girth, with a slightly curved shape that seems almost predestined for delivering deep, merciless thrusts. The shaft is covered in a thin layer of soft, velvety skin that's slightly darker than his natural complexion. When fully erect, Art's cock stands proudly from his body, the swollen purple head gleaming with a thin bead of pre-cum. Despite its imposing size, the organ is surprisingly agile and responsive, able to reach incredible speeds and depths during passionate encounters.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Art is always in favor. He often gets aroused during his bloody adventures, so he's more than ready whenever you want. Not to say that ln is a fan of sex, but he definitely likes this part of the human body.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn't need much sleep, but Art can stay with you until you fall asleep.

[imliterallyf7ckin9crazy]

“𝕴’𝖑𝖑 𝕸𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕳𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖞 𝕭𝖆𝖇𝖞, 𝕵𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖂𝖆𝖎𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕾𝖊𝖊”

Nam gyu (player 124) x fem!reader x thanos (player 230).

Squid game season 2

Warnings: typical cannon violence, descriptions of blood and death, semi toxic lol, this duo doing their things, romantic tension but nothing is verbalized, drug mention ofc

A/N: so I’m brain rotted by these two but I see no poly stuff on here let alone in squid game😭 so here. If you’re uncomfortable with drugs don’t read, sorry :/ I’ll right something more gender neutral soon but I had a vision.

TLDR: post game two. Reader is already decent enough friends with nam gyu and thanos. They want to play another game but reader isn’t so sure and they both try to convince her to play. Sfw sorry gang. Kinda sad but whatever.

—————

You had never felt more overwhelmed in your whole danm life.

You had literal seconds left on the clock as you and your randomly selected teammates gripped tightly to each other and struggle to the finish line.

You couldn’t even hear the cheers of the crowd over your own screams of desperation and terror as you all walked as one. Right at the last minute you closed your eyes, running blindly to death. Ready to face the bullets. But then you felt the snap of the finish line across you and your teams united body. And you opened your eyes. The guard watching formed a big ‘O’ with their arms over their head

The crowd burst into cheers and congratulations. You made it with just 2 seconds on the clock. A unspeakable weight was ripped from your shoulders as you processed your teams victory. You only had time to form a small smile and to turn to congratulate your team before that two was ripped from you. Right before your eyes, the other team that started at the same time as yours was mowed down by an unstoppable line of bullets.

The crowd stopped cheering and watched helplessly as another batch of human beings were slaughtered for failing a stupid kids game. The smiles were wiped clean off your team as you were escorted back to the main holding room. Bottoms of your white shoes stained with the blood of countless people before your team.

You would have preferred to lay in your thin provided bed and force yourself to self. To delude yourself into thinking when you’ll wake up you’ll be home because this was all fake. To wake up at home and not splattered in old dry blood.

But of course, nothing can go as you want these days.

Instead you are greeted by fluorescent lighting and two absolute wackos barreling towards you. Players 124 and 230, seemingly unfazed if not satisfied. You nearly forgot about them between the fighting for your life against time situation.

Oddly enough their excessively jovial attitudes rightfully threw off pretty much everyone else in the games, it brings a sick sense of comfort. They make it seem like they were just kids in a summer camp competing for who gets top bunk. It makes you forget where the hell you were. Though deep down you knew there had to be something very wrong for them to take such joy in watching (and in 230s case causing) the death of their peers.

Which is why when 230, THE thanos, approached you after the first game you with 124 hanging right off his heels, you didn’t really resist. You figured ironically you’d be safest as friends of the danger than against it. And you knew they were dangerous. You saw 230 push people in red light, green light. You saw them popping pills while waiting in line for the marathon. But they were friendly to you and weirdly made you feel safe

“AYYYY! Señorita! You made it!!” 230 exclaimed with excitement, reaching you with his arms out. The quickly had you by the shoulders and shook you slightly “we were so worried about you!” He says. You raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘ok, sure’.

124 rounds from behind 230 to behind you so he can put his arm around your neck and hang there “no seriously we were” he looks at you with a smile “honest”

You sigh lightheartedly “okay okay whatever. Lemme sit down guys I’m tired” you say, pushing them off. Only nam gyu, player 124s actual name, didn’t fully let go. He kept his fingers playing with parts of your jacket as the duo led you to thanos’ bed, where they usually chill out. You sit in the middle of the bed and then they sit, one on either side of you.

“This game was worse than the first…” you start to say but then drift off. You met these two because you agreed that everyone should try another game, and backed them up. Obviously, they liked that. Only now you weren’t so sure anymore. You didn’t know if you can keep watching strangers be torn to shreds by the gunfire of dinky little fucks in pink uniforms. “We barely made it…”

Nam gyu places his hand again on your shoulder and gently rubs it. “Just means you’re fit enough to keep going.”He says with a sickeningly calm and comforting voice. Only slightly stuttery. Clearly still rolling off whatever thanos gave him. Your head turns to look at him “keep going? But I thought-“

“I know what you’re going to say” thanos cuts you off grabbing your hand tightly “we have to play again”

You assume you must have made quite the face because he just sighed and kept talking “look, I know. But we all know the money we will get now will do nothing to help us. We have to play again, you see beautiful?” Thanos said expectingly. You took a moment to think, really think if it was worth it. But it was like trying to think with little devils on your shoulders

“I know you need the money just as much as us. Are you gonna forfeit all of that money just to leave?” Nam gyu coaxes, grabbing your other hand and fidgeting with it. It was very hard to focus like this. But the way they were saying it didn’t sound like there was much room for debate.

“The next games will be worse than these. What good does the money do us if we die” you say, trying to pull your hands back to yourself. Only they both refused to release you, gripping your hand in theirs.

“We won’t die, sweetheart” thanos says nonchalantly, will all the certainty in the world. No doubt from whatever he’s on.

“Maybe you won’t but I totally could. I’m not as good at things like this as you two” you argue back. Thanos gives you almost a look of compassion, something you didn’t think he could muster.

Nam gyu lets your hand go and wrapped his arms around you, leaning his head on your shoulder. “We won’t let that happen then, yeah? We can make sure you live” 124 says smoothly

“You just have to vote ‘O’, yeah?” He says. Again. It didn’t sound like a request. You sigh again and give in, seeking any comfort you can get in a situation like this. You lean back a bit into nam gyus clingy grasp and give thanos a tired smile “alright. Just one more game?”

“Just oneee more” thanos says, forming a little heart with his hands and giving you a little wink. “Promise”

You just laugh a bit with them, choosing to put your trust into two broke druggies who took an odd liking to you.

—————

This is lowkey so ass but these idiots are my world rn. I’ll probably rewrite this later when I get a better handle on how I want to write these guys. I love my evil wives.

[harlotistic]

lamb to the slaughter

tw. fem pov, spanking, legal age gap, dub-con, predator/prey-ish kink, blood kink (?), degradation, rough and painful sex, size kink, choking, tba

thinking about bestfriend's dad!sylus and how he's very strict but has a soft spot for you because you make his angel so happy but also because of the way your curves look in those clothes you like to wear, the way you looked at him through your lashes when you spoke to his way taller self, and especially the way you yelped or whimpered.

don't get him wrong. he loves strong women. his wife, his kid, they're all strong women. but you? you scratched an inner primal part of his brain that wishes to break things. the one that makes his heart race when he has someone's pulse in his hands as they beg for their life. his pretty little lamb. god he wanted to mark your pretty skin and cover you in blood. rip you apart into shreds as you cry all pretty and unravel beneath his touch.

so when the ultimate opportunity of all opportunities presented itself in the form of his wife being away on a work trip and his daughter being sound asleep during your sleepover with her, sylus got his big break. he was seated on his couch, fingers swirling a glass of his favourite wine to aerate it when you descended down the stairs.

now anybody else would be wearing less revealing clothes when sleeping over at someone's house especially when their dad was home. but not you, his sweet little naiive lamb. you were there in your pretty shorts showing delicious skin. skin that he would love nothing more than to sink his canines into. maybe lap up the blood when the skin breaks. the vein in his clenched jaw twitched.

his red irises trailed your form as you stumbled all sleepy to his kitchen, tiptoeing to get a glass on one of the higher shelves. the one with the cute cat print on it. the one reserved for his wife. your audacity was truly something else. the way your shirt rode up your skin, exposing tantalising slivers. he finds himself standing up, adjusting the bulge in his slacks as he walked towards your unsuspecting form.

"the guests' cups are in the cupboards."

he says in that smooth drawl of his, fingernails tapping the side of his wine glass before he sets it down. he had a lazy smirk, an eyebrow cocked as he scans your form the way a wolf would from behind the fence when they see lambs. sweet, delicious, lambs.

"s-shoot, sorry mr s! i was not aware of that!"

mr s. what a stupid nickname. but coming from you, he found it amusing if anything. cute, even. he waved it off dismissively.

"it's quite alright, little lamb. you just incurred your very first strike."

you looked at him all wide eyed and parted lips. unsure of how to even respond. a strike from the infamous leader of the onychinus during a sleepover with his daughter was not something you could have prepared for in any way. you could see the way his pupils dilate and ate at the reds of his iris. you swallowed softly, instinctively stumbling away from his tall imposing figure only to end up dropping the cup. the shattering sound pierced through the tension.

"and that's two strikes."

he says with your chin between his forefingers, held in a firm grip. that was how you found yourself bent over his office desk, your own panties stuffed in between your teeth as he spanked your ass, watching it go taut with each swat of his belt. it was beginning to darken, fat droplets of slick beginning to roll down the sides of your spread legs from your inner thighs. he wondered how translucent your panties would be if he were to remove your shorts from where it pulled and latched around your ankles.

"you're doing surprisingly well, little lamb."

he taunts, leaning over. his stiff bulge pressing against the curve of your ass as he bends over to whisper against the shell of your ear.

"that's very unfortunate...for you."

he says before delivering a sharp stinging blow to your wet pussy, the loud squelching sound resounding in his spacious office mingling with your pained grunt. he clamped his fingers onto your scalp, tugging your head back to give you a mocking forehead kiss as he licks your tears.

"the faster you break, the easier it'll all get..."

he whispered before nipping at your ear lobe. with both your hands held behind your back by his larger ones and your thighs kept apart by his long muscular legs, you felt him free your head only to unzip his fly. he swiftly secured his belt around your neck. the buckle's tightness just shy of lethal, leather pressing on your throat as he yanked it backwards to make you look into his eyes.

"it's going to hurt...but you'll take it for me won't you, little lamb?"

he says in that drawl of his. as if all he was asking for was a simple favour and not to spear you open on his fat cock that nestled between the zipper of his slacks. tip leaking with pre as he slides it over and over between your slick folds. with a firm tug that almost cut off your breathing entirely, he thrusted into you in one fell swoop. the tip of his cock nudged against your cervix and the stretch made you cry out. your knuckles began to whiten from how hard you were gripping the edges of the table. he gently tucks away your hair with small cooing tuts before thrusting inside again.

you began gasping for air, the panties in your mouth and the leather around your throat doing little to help. your fingers began to scramble at your neck, desperate for air. for mercy. he groaned at the pathetic sight, going impossibly faster and harder. you could feel him rubbing the back of your navel from how your lower tummy pressed against the table edge. your vision began to turn spotty with fuzzy black dots and your eyes began to roll.

"so tight- hff- maybe next time i'll have to carve out this pussy to hng- make space, hm?"

his threats and brutality made your traitorous body grow wetter. his groans and grunts of pleasure only spurred you on even more. you've never been treated so roughly before. your whole body rocking with the table, both of which would surely be left with marks all over. he reached down and pinched your clit harshly as he released the tightness around your throat.

you gasped, the rush of unrestricted air into your lungs mixed with the sharp pain making you double over as you coughed. weak spurts of your cum sputtering out as you clenched around him. he groaned as he pulled out, cumming all over your bruised ass. he was panting as he rubbed the cum into your stinging bruised cheeks, giving them a firm squeeze before letting you stumble to the floor right on where it hurt most.

he felt the same rush of power that usually came before a kill. you looked so beautifully pathetic, snivelling and crying at his feet with your legs all splayed out and his cum staining the backs of your thighs. the sight of your puffy pussy made his cock twitch against his stained slacks. had it been just the two of you, he would have fucked you over and over. made you bleed and beg and wail beneath him. but sylus was a patient man. he could wait until next time.

he carried your weakened form onto his table and handed you a napkin. you watched through your tears as he tucked his still hard cock away and zipped up his pants, white hair sticking to his forehead from working up a sweat. he tilts your head back and poured some wine between your lips, eyes tracing where it dribbled and seeped into your shirt.

"there, that should help with the soreness."

he says simply before setting the glass down once more. he leans in, lips ghosting over your bruised ones as he traced the side of your jaw.

"until strike three, little lamb."

[dumbgoondog]

Sukuna NSFW Alphabet

MDNI +18 NSFW

Cw/Tw - cannibalism, blood, pregnancy

(A)ftercare - Your brains are mush, you’re covered in bruises, tears stain your face, wrists sore, bleeding in places from nails and biting, voice hoarse and dry. Then here he is, the disgraced one, the fallen, the king of curses, the man who fucked you like he hated you! Here he is gently scooping you up, massaging you, purring, his stomach mouth affectionately licking at any wounds. Carrying you to the bath, holding you to himself in the water, washing you gently, your body and hair. Using RCT output to ease any pain and aches. Praising you and treasuring you. PLEASE remember that your dom needs aftercare too. He needs to know you love him, that he wasn’t too rough, that he isn’t a monster to you. Please let him be gentle with you and you acknowledge it.

(B)ody Part - your hands. Not because it’s sexual but because if he goes blind he’ll know the gentle touch of your hands, he’ll know how you feel. How your hands don’t shy away from him, how you don’t hesitate to hold his hands. But also yes, he loves your hands grabbing at him, holding his face, stroking him, pinned beneath one of his hands.

(C)um - inside. Bella that your mouth or your hole(s). There’s a LOT so it will spill out and get every where. He likes watching it overflow

(D)irty Secret - this man has no dirty secrets. He tells it to you like it is and how he wants it… there is one thing tho. He wants to eat you. Like a religious act of worship and devotion to himself. You thought I was gonna say you yeah? Nah, that bitch has an ego. He will heal you after tho so no worries!

(E)xperience - None. Ryomen No Bitches Sukuna. I do not think he took any concubines, or consorts or anything of the sort. Pleasures of the mortal flesh… you think anyone could find pleasure in his visage without being batshit or forced? (Yorozu.) he would never force anyone too and would rather not be aware that they’re doing it for power but think he’s repulsive. that is until you.

(F)avorite Position - riding, facing him, on his throne. He likes watching you, and his stomach mouth likes licking you. This giant grabs you with all four arms and is using you like a fleshlight.

(G)oofy - He’s goofy. I see to many people make him so deadpan and stoic and “ooo I’m such a cool and sadistic top”. Bro bffr, this bitch incarnated and came out kicking his feet giggling goin “Women and children!!! Maggots for the slaughter!!!” And ripped. Off. His. Shirt. He was dancing dodging Fushiguro in their first fight. He took a bow when fighting Maharaga. He’s so silly. He praises and encourages his opponents in battle even! If something dumb happens or there’s a funny noise he’s gonna laugh. He wants you to laugh at him if he does something stupid too!

(H)air - thick messy pink hair, happy trail, and a trail down his balls too. Washed, semi groomed, smells pretty okay tbh. Light metallic undertone tho. It’s the blood of his foes.

(I)ntimacy - he fucks you like a wild beast. Growling, snarling, no words, biting, grunting. The moment you use a safe word? The moment somethings wrong? He’s stopping to make sure he hasn’t gone too far.

He’s also secretly a romantic. He knows flower language very well, and gets you flowers often(regardless of gender.) flower language and symbolism was big in the heian era, so was poetry. Sometimes he writes you poems never show anyone tho. They’re just for you.

(J)ack off - sometimes. Great stress reliever, passes time, helps when he’s bored, thinks it’s funny when he does it on his throne and there are his servants just having to stand on standby. What a power move.

(K)ink - blood, obviously. Biting and marking, duh. But hear me out on this. Primal. I’m talking hunt chase, both of you acting feral, like prey and predator. ABO that shit I guess. Submit to baser instincts, no talking just raw noises. Yeah I’m so right y’all don’t even know it(now you do tho)

(L)ocation - the throne is to obvious, the bed is a classic…and honestly I think it’s the bed. I got no reasons, just is how it is.

(M)otivation - working out, sparring, or after eating a big meal. Something about those activities puts him in the mood.

(N)o - He will not involve Uraume, he found them when they were a young kid and has helped raise them. Even if not related he was a late teen/young adult and he raised them from bein little

(O)ral - No, he HATES putting you in his mouth cause you taste baaaaddd. Fuck he loves eating, sucking, licking, he’s a hungry man. A big hungry man. Any position, anytime, let him use his stomach mouth. He knows it’s big and his teeth are sharp but god he loves having you ride his tongue and kiss you, watch you squirm.

(P)ace - he’s rough, hard, and a medium pace. Fast isn’t always good, especially when he likes being precise with every thrust. Feeling you squeeze and his tip bullying into you.

(Q)uicky - sometimes, it only if he’s getting to eat or suck you off. Quickys don’t work when you’re as big as him, you need prepping! He wishes though. He’s kinda a perv cuz he wants you smell like him and full of his cum often.

(R)isk - he’s up to try new things! There are some things he doesn’t understand and might make fun of tho. Like feet. He feels like a guy who mocks feet lovers. He doesn’t want to try it, he doesn’t care he “might” like it, he thinks it’s stupid.(his loss tbh)

(S)tamina - Much to the horror of everyone, like Kenjaku, he hasn’t tapped out ever. Despite his sweating and panting he isn’t done. Tbh he might have more stamina than Kenjaku. I need Sukuna bitching Kenjaku…

(T)oys - he fucking loves watching you use toys on yourself, not much on himself tho. He’s a freak fr fr cuz he got you plugs so after he’s cum in you he’ll plug you up. You better believe they’re custom too, it’s his blood as a jewel on the end. He’s so smug about it.

(U)nfair - as much as he loved teasing or you being a brat, he’s pretty patient but once he’s ready to go it all stops. He does like teasing you in public and some light humiliation in front of friends!

(V)olume - Growls. Grunts. Groans. Feral noises. He’s not loud loud, but he ain’t quiet. For any passing by it sounds like an animal is fighting someone in there.

(W)ild Card - he doesn’t have a pregnancy kink. Let me make that very clear. However. If he can get you pregnant expect his hands on you constantly. He’s super protective and clingy, always needs to be touching your belly. It will get annoying, cause he won’t let you piss alone. He’s also stealing titty milk. He says it’s to help you and the baby but you know he’s just a little freak. Back to the baby tho. He genuinely might start hiding the bad that he does because for once he’s like “I’m not destroying or cursing, I’m creating life, something precious.” He does have some outbursts tho and might go on rampages cuz he’s so stressed, scared, and full of emotions. He NEVER takes it out on you tho.

(X)-ray - it’s that ancient Japanese thong. He refused anything else. It’s comfortable, breathable, and one of the one things that doesn’t squeeze the life out of his dicks.

(Y)es - Worship roleplay, sacrifice roleplay, he likes it! Him being THE Ryomen Sukuna, and getting to play into that is fun! He’d be up for a “captured the king of curses and having your way with him” roleplay too.

(Z)zz - Cuddle up after a bath, eat a bit, and then he’s snoring. Or is he practicing his bear impression? Either way get comfy, if you’re not sleeping, you sure as hell aren’t leaving.

[merakiui]

wait wait wait wait gimme a sec……big bad wolf Jade and Red Riding Hood reader 😳 going to visit your granny but ending up banged and stuffed by this big wolf guy (maybe even +hunter Floyd)

AAAAAAA OTL OTL down tremendously bad for wolf Jade,,,, so scummy…… such a silver-tongued wolf, trying to tempt and stray you from your path to grandmother’s house. >_< he’s so hungry, you see. :< won’t you find some kindness in your heart to stop and lend him something sweet from your basket? That jar of homemade strawberry marmalade looks particularly delicious. :) but you rip it away from his clawed hands and insist that you must be on your way, for your grandmother is expecting you. He smiles like he understands and he doesn’t follow you, but you can’t stop looking over your shoulder the rest of the way.

Can you truly blame a ravenous wolf for making a meal out of your grandmother? You make it to her small cottage to find a smattering of blood soaking the walls of her bedroom, staining the wallpaper, the linen sheets, everything in sight. And who should be waiting for you, licking that same blood from his fingers, but that terrible wolf!!!! It truly is a shame, he tells you, for if you had just shown him an ounce of pity he’d have left perfectly satisfied. Alas, he’s still craving something sweet and you smell very appetizing, even more so when you try to flee. <3

Maybe you’re a virgin,,, the village sweetheart praised for being so pure and kindhearted. You don’t quite look like one anymore, though, with your tear-streaked expression and the way your lips have been bitten and bruised from so many hungry kisses. orz he could be merciful and kill you here, but then he wouldn’t have the chance to savor this sweet treat.

Thick wolf cock bullying its way into your tight pussy….. claws scraping at the pudgy flesh of your hips and inner thighs, drawing pinpricks of blood that make you wince and cry out. His thumb grinding harshly against your clit,, a slobbering, bloodstained mouth at your throat, whether to taste your pulse or rip out your jugular with those sharp teeth of his. And such big, calloused hands—big enough to grab you and slam you back down on his knot when you try to escape, pinning you there so you can take all of him inside.

It’s just too much for your little womb to handle, but it satisfies the wolf and his big, bad appetite for fragile things like you. You’re lucky enough to escape with your life, but you can’t say the same for the rest of you. :( you’re only given the opportunity to escape because he allows it—and there’s some lesson to be learned about being kind and generous to those less fortunate, or whatever he’s pretending to be—because he expects to cross paths with you again, and surely then he’ll take what he believes to be his.

And hunter Floyd….. maybe he’s also a wolf, but he likes living amongst humans in this quaint village, so he’s taken to disguising himself. Hiding his ears under a hat or hooded cloak. Stuffing his bushy tail away so no one sees it. Taking care not to show off his teeth so much, or else overly suspicious townsfolk might start crying wolf. Hunting the other beasts in the forest is no problem for him, and the villagers absolutely adore him and his silly, boyish charms.

But Floyd only has eyes for Little Red, and ever since you returned to the village a right mess, tattered, crimson cloak barely covering anything, and looking like you’ve just tussled (and lost) with quite the formidable monster it’s given him an opening to cozy up to you. He’ll hunt the beast who slaughtered your grandmother! You needn’t fear.

Unfortunately, Floyd isn’t the strongest man wolf, and it’s getting harder to do everything the human way when the wolf way is so much easier, if not particularly brutal. But he’ll endure and he’ll be patient because when he takes down that beast you’ll appreciate his efforts and sheer loyalty, and maybe then you’ll stop scoffing every time he tries to strike up flirty conversation with you. Maybe you’ll finally take him seriously and see him as a man wolf worthy of your love.

[justnatoka]

Haunted

Poly! The Lost Boys x GN! Reader

A/n: This started as a drabble. Oh well. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Word count: 1.7k

Warning: mention of injury

Prompt: "I'm pretty sure it was a ghost." / "I'm pretty sure it's not." / "Oh really?" / "Ghosts don't bleed."

Summary: After days of running you finally find shelter, both literally and figuratively.

Your panting filled the silence of the empty room, echoing back from the walls of the run down house you were hiding in. It was clear it has been standing abandoned for many years, decay and nature slowly sneaking in through the cracks and taking over. Lucky for you, one of the windows in the back was shattered, probably adventurous teens exploring the place since the door has been boarded up. It was a good enough hiding place for now.

A wave of pain shot through your shoulder as you tried to find a more comfortable seating position against the wall of the kitchen, a nice reminder that you weren’t out of the woods yet. You had been running for days, your body growing more and more exhausted. It looked like you finally managed to lose the hunter chasing you, at least for now. Hopefully, you can spend the day here sleeping.

The next big problem was your shoulder. You had no idea what he shot you with, but it wasn’t healing, not like you usually do. You were more resilient than humans of course, but if you didn’t find some help and soon, you would bleed out.

As you were thinking through your options, trying not to lose yourself to the fear gripping your lungs like a vice at your hopeless predicament, you heard gravel crunch outside. You were instantly on alert, quieting down your breathing, fight or flight taking over once again. You got ready to run if need be. It was possible that it was just some critter scurrying away in the dark, you thought, but then the sound came again and it was clearly something bigger, walking on two feet. As they got closer, you could make out three, four different pair of footsteps. It was not your pursuer, but that didn’t mean they were friendly. In your current state, you didn’t want to risk getting into an altercation with four people, even if they were just ordinary humans. Finally, you could hear them talking too.

“You think it’s haunted?”

“What’s the matter, Paul? Are you chicken?”

“Shut up, Marko. I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Oh, really? Then why don’t you go in first?”

“I will! I’ll show you!”

You heard wood splintering, and it became clear that they were ripping off the wooden planks from the door.

“It looks like no one has been here for a while. I wonder why the humans avoid it so much.” It was a calmer voice that spoke up next, and your brain subconsciously picked up on his word choice.

‘Humans’? Is it possible…?

“I heard that there has been a murder. A man slaughtered his entire family. They probably think it’s cursed.” This one sounded amused, like he was laughing at the fear of others.

“You hear that, Paulie? It’s definitely haunted.”

“Man, shut up!”

They finished dismantling the barricade and the front door swung open with a loud creek. You didn’t take your eyes off the opening connecting the kitchen to the hallway, just a few doors down from the main entrance. As you were slowly and silently backing up to another door behind you, leading to the living room with the broken window, your only escape route, you bumped into a small dresser. To your horror, a glass tipped over and shattered on the floor. Your senses were probably dulled from exhaustion, otherwise you wouldn’t have made such a stupid mistake.

“What was that?”

“Maybe it was a ghost. Let’s go and say hi.”

The footsteps approached and you quickly turned the corner into the living room, just in time to hear them step into the kitchen. They were too close. Then you heard a high-pitched screech, and someone fell over laughing.

“What the hell, Marko? Not cool, man, not cool! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“You should have seen your face! Ow! Stop punching me!”

“What’s going on, boys?” The other two arrived to the kitchen as well.

“That glass broke, and I think I saw something move through that door over there. I’m pretty sure it was a ghost.” The voice belonging to ‘Paul’ said.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not.” It was the calm one this time.

“Oh really? How do you know, Dwayne?”

“Ghosts don’t bleed.”

Silence. Shit. Some of your blood was probably smeared on the wall you were leaning against earlier. You eyed the window. If you could make it there and get outside, the way is clear to the tree line. You can hide in the woods. But if you make a run for it, they would definitely hear it. Oh well, it’s not like you had anything to lose. You glanced back one more time towards the door to the kitchen before quickly turning around to bolt. You didn’t even make it two steps before bumping into something solid and someone grabbed hold of your arms. You panicked, clawing and scratching and hitting any surface you could reach, struggling and hissing, but you couldn’t overpower them. Myriad thoughts were running through your terrified brain. How is this possible? Why can’t I get free? I’m injured and exhausted, but I should still be stronger than an ordinary human. What are they going to do to me? Is this where I die?

“Look what we have here, boys,” came an amused voice from above you, and as you looked up, you stared into the striking blue eyes of the stranger. You quickly took in the scruffy face and the bleached blond mullet before trying to get away once again. You could sense the others stepping into the room behind you. You were surrounded. In your last desperate attempt you vamped out, baring your sharp teeth and hissing in the stranger’s face. His expression changed instantly, the smirk melting off his face. But instead of jerking away from you in fear, his brows furrowed, a frown turning down the corners of his mouth.

“They are one of us,” you heard from behind. The man holding your arms was looking you over more carefully now, his scowl deepening at the sight of your frantic eyes and torn clothes, gaze immediately drawn to your wounded shoulder, still oozing blood through your shirt. His eyes finally met yours once again, now full of concern and, to your amazement, glowing yellow in the dark.

“What happened to you, sweetheart?” His voice was so gentle. You felt tears gathering in your eyes and slowly running down your cheeks as you collapsed in his arms, relief flooding your body. They were like you. They can help you. You’re finally safe. The word safe ran through your head over and over again. He wrapped you up in his arms, his hand running up and down your back in a soothing manner, letting you cry into his shoulder.

After your sobs quietened down, he led you over to the beaten up old couch, letting go of you in the process, but staying close. As you wiped the tears from your eyes, your vision becoming clearer, you saw three guys standing over you, all of them full of genuine concern. The one next to you spoke up again.

“I’m David, and this is my pack,” he motioned to the others. One of them, a blond with a friendly smile sat down on your other side.

“I’m Paul, this is Marko,” the one with the colorful jacket and curly hair waved, ”and the big, brooding fella is Dwayne.” He nodded at you in greeting. “What’s your name, dollface?” You muttered out your name, voice still thick from crying. Paul’s smile brightened, immediately making you at ease, your body finally starting to relax.

“What happened to you?” It was David who spoke up again, his voice somber and his face serious.

“Hunter,” you whispered out and they went rigid. You continued. “He’s been chasing me for days. I finally managed to lose him a few towns over, then I found this place. I thought I can hide here for a bit, get some sleep.” Your hand went to your shoulder, their eyes following the movement. “He shot me with something two days ago. I don’t know what it was, but I’m not healing.”

Paul drew in a sharp breath beside you, and you could see from the corner of your eyes as Marko started pacing around, his hands clenching and unclenching in anger. His steps echoed loudly in the silence following your admission.

“What do we do now?” Dwayne asked, his gaze full of determination.

David looked straight at you, his voice calm as he started speaking, but his eyes echoed the same sentiment you saw in all of them. They were not going to let anything happen to you.

“We’re taking you to Max, our sire. He will figure it out what you were shot with and how to deal with it.” He softened a bit as he added. “You’re safe. You’re one of us now.”

This brought fresh tears to your eyes and for the first time in many days, a smile tugged up the corner of your lips.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice full of emotion.

As you moved to stand up, your legs gave out. Your body has been running on pure adrenaline for a while, not being able to feed while being chased, and it looked like it finally has caught up to you. Before you could collapse to the floor, steady hands took hold of you and you were hoisted from the ground. Looking up, you were met with Dwayne’s warm brown eyes.

“You can rest now,” he said, sending you a small smile as he carried you out the front door, away from the house, away from the fear and desperation. Listening to the murmuring of the others talking, exhaustion finally took you over, resting your head against Dwayne’s solid chest, his steps lulling you to sleep. The future looked just a little bit brighter.

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

[heli-writes]

A dragon's heart, part 4.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries, violence, beheading, blood

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Series Masterlist

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At first, y/n watches Katsuki pack by himself. Eventually, he starts barking orders at her that she doesn't get. He keeps pointing at things y/n starts moving his belongings toward his dragon. Katsuki binds the bags onto the saddle with some rope. When he's done, he shakes everything one more time to check if it's secure. Y/n stands next to him feeling a little bit lost. She feels insecure since she doesn't know what's going to happen next.

"Will he take me with him?", she wonders. If he does, what will it mean? She's not stupid. Y/n knows exactly who is standing in front of her. Bakugou Katsuki, leader of the dragonblood tribe, tamer of the biggest beast known to mankind, slaughter of man. The last thing she witnessed herself.

Clearly, she has heard enough stories about his clan. About their ruthlessness, their crimes. How ten of his men can take out an entire village. She shudders when she thinks about what the stories say they do to women. Y/n gnaws at her bottom lip in distress. So far, Katsuki hasn't shown any aggression or ill intentions towards her. She wonders if the stories are lies or at least exaggerations.

Then again, so far she's only seen Katsuki. He is rude and mean. Thinking back on how he laughed at her when she burned her mouth, he also likes seeing people in pain. Moreover, he easily could kill her if he wanted to. What would it be like if she was in a whole group of men like Katsuki? Group dynamics often develop a strange momentum.

The point is, does she want Katsuki to take her with him? If he takes her back to his home, she would have to live with these people she's heard so many terrible things about. She doesn't speak their language, she doesn't know anything about their culture. How would she even fit it? Y/n shakes her head trying to push the thoughts out of her head. She can't even be sure that that's Katsuki's plan. In addition, what other option does she have? She knows her chances alone out here are grim. Teaming up with the big scary men might just be a chance to survive.

Just when she decided that, as long as no other option opens up, she might as well go with the flow, Katsuki whistles at her sharply. Y/n is ripped out of her thoughts. He stares at her angrily and shouts instructions at her. When he gestures at her to come over, y/n walks closer to him.

When y/n stands next to him and the winged animal, Katsuki explains something speaking rather quickly and wildly gesturing. When y/n doesn't do what he wants her to do, he grabs her hips and lifts her up the dragon. Y/n throws a leg around the saddle and Katsuki pushes her up. Then Katsuki lifts himself up into the saddle. Sitting behind y/n, Katsuki grabs the reigns and gives the dragon a sign.

While y/n still feels anxious about being so high up in the air, she's not as scared as last time. She still clings onto the handle until her knuckles are all white. Katsuki's broad arms cage her in which gives her some sort of comfort. At least she can't fall off on either side.

After a while, she relaxes and suddenly becomes painfully aware of how close Katsuki is to her. She can feel his abs pressed against her back and his breath against her ear. She shivers even though Katsuki's body warmth keeps her comfortably warm.

Katsuki seems to have a plan for where they were going. They fly for about two hours before the dragon lands on the outskirts of the forest. Katsuki gets down first before he helps y/n get down. Y/n feels a bit unsteady on her legs. The inside of her thighs ache and y/n excuses herself behind a tree. Lifting up her skirt, she takes a look at the tender skin on the inside of her legs. They're red and sore. Y/n's surprised the skin hasn't grazed off to a point where she's bleeding. Her dress wasn't made for riding a horse or a dragon.

*~*~*

Katsuki watches y/n disappear behind the tree suspiciously. He noticed how she was still not comfortable with flying. He wonders whether she needs to piss or puke. Scoffing, he turns around and starts setting up camp. When y/n wobbles back, she starts helping him.

They were just about to undo the knots of the rope that secured the bags onto the saddle, when the dragon shifts and lets out a deep, threatening growl. Y/n shys away. "Woops, does he not like that?", she exclaims. Simultaneously, Katsuki swirls around watching the edge of the forest. His hand rest on the hilt of his sword.

Suddenly, the buzzing sound of an arrow fills the air. Katsuki grips y/n's arm and yanks her to he side just in time. Her injured shoulder almost gets pierced again. Next, a bunch or rough-looking men attack their little party with roars of war. "Bandits.", y/n thinks. Katuski yells something at her and gestures at the dragon.

The dragon moves quickly. One second he was behind them, the next he is in front of y/n biting a man's head off. Y/n ducks behind the beast. She hears Katsuki swearing and blades clashing against each other. Y/n rumbles through her back for her hunting knife.

Suddenly, a hand is pushed onto her mouth and an arm grabs her midsection. The person tries to drag her away. Y/n struggles against the man's grip. "Keep struggling and you only make it worse for yourself.", the man tells her.

The dragon blocks the view and y/n can't spot or yell at Katsuki. The man keeps pulling her backward. Instead of panicking, y/n suddenly feels very calm. Living on the road, the wandering folk teach all their children basic self-defense. The scenario of being grabbed from behind is something her elders have practiced her a hundred times.

She prepares to free herself out of the man's grip. She stomps onto his foot and bites his hand simultaneously. She bites so hard, she can taste the metallic flavor of blood. The man yells in distress and lets go of her in his surprise. Swiftly, y/n draws out her tiny knife. She goes straight for his liver. She should've gone for his Adam's apple, piercing his throat, as her elders taught her but somehow she's not courageous or fierce enough to do so. Instead, she stabs him in the liver. However, she's not sure if her tiny knife could even cut deep enough to harm the organ. Nevertheless, it's enough for the man to fall onto his back and clutch the wound in pain.

Y/n swirls around. The dragon is busy fending off some bandits. Somewhere behind it, Katsuki's fighting. Suddenly, Katsuki stumbles backwards and into y/n's view. There's a cut on his bicep and cheek. He holds a sword in his head that drips with blood. Three more bandits come into view, all three attacking the blonde at the same time.

"I've got to do something!", y/n thinks in a panic, "He can't fight them all on his own!". It's not a rational thought. Her elders always drilled into her head that the moment someone carries a knife or another kind of weapon, you do not try to fight them. Despite that, y/n finds herself rushing towards them. Without a real plan, she jumps onto on of the bandit's back. Her weight is enough to make the bandit stumble backwards. It also throws off the other two momentarily giving Katsuki enough time to swing his sword at one of them. He cuts open one of the bandit's throats similarly as he did to the man from y/n's village.

Meanwhile, y/n is still holding on tightly to the third guy's back who tries to shake her off. Y/n clings onto his throat for dear life and the bandit has trouble breathing. Luckily, bandits usually are not skilled swordsmen thus the man is too disoriented to get the idea that he could use his weapon against y/n. Unfortunately, he's still larger and stronger than y/n so he does manage to shake her off eventually.

Y/n falls onto her butt. An uncomfortable pain shoots up her injured shoulder. The man swirls around to her clutching his throat and raising his saber. His face is contorted in anger. "You little bitch!", he roars as he raises his weapon to strike.

Katsuki sees what is happening out of the corner of his eyes. He's still fighting the other bandit but upon noticing that y/n is about to get killed, he turns to the side in an attempt to rush to her aide. This gives the bandit an opening to strike. While Katsuki reacts quickly enough to stop the bandit from piercing him with his weapon completely, the bandit still manages to cut deeply into Katsuki's right leg.

Meanwhile, y/n is quick to roll over and the saber misses her by inches. Quickly she's on her feet again, crouching and holding her knife up in defense. The man takes another swing at her but before he can fulfill the action, his head is severed from the rest of his body.

While y/n wasn't looking, Katsuki killed the second bandit and went to her rescue. The bandit's head drops to the ground with a loud 'thup'. The rest of his body falls to the ground still twitching. Y/n stares at the sight in front of her with wide eyes. The sight doesn't seem to faze Katsuki at all but he is out of breath and his face in contorted in pain. He grabs y/n's injured arm and pulls her towards the dragon who is still fighting off some bandits. From the edge of the forest more cries of war are heard as reinforcements of the bandits run onto the open.

"Shit.", Katsuki curses. There are too many even for him. Where on earth were these assholes hiding? He should've been more observant. He shouldn't have been so distracted by this stupid woman. He pulls y/n towards the beast and pushes her up. Y/n is quick to react and pulls herself up into the saddle just as Katsuki does just seconds after her.

The dragon beats his wings and the force of the air sends a few bandits backwards. Some still try to climb the dragon in an attempt to get to Katsuki and y/n. When one manages to grab Katsuki's foot, y/n stabs her knife into the man's hand who immediately lets go.

As they rise into the air, more bandits lose hold and fall onto the ground. Arrows are shot at the three of them and Katsuki pushes y/n's head down in an attempt to stop her from getting shot in the face. Once they are high enough that the bandits can't reach them, Katsuki lets go of y/n's head.

Just when y/n thinks they're safe, Katsuki turns the dragon around and steers it back to the bandits. "Is he absolutely out of his mind?", y/n thinks as they descend again. However, they never touch land. Instead, the dragon lets out a rumbling sound and spits waves of never-ending fire. Suddenly, the world is burning and hot. Y/n hears the cries of the bandits and the heat licking at her legs.

Quickly they leave again and y/n watches the bandits and parts of the forest burn to the ground over her shoulder. Just when they are out of sight, she notices Katsuki's heavy breathing behind her. She also notices how his grip on her isn't as tight as it was before. That's when she feels a warm liquid drop down her leg. Katsuki rests his head on her shoulder.

Y/n lets go of the handle of the saddle and grabs his hands with both of hers stabilizing his hold on the reigns. The last thing she wants is for both of them to fall off the damn dragon.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[sleeplessdreamer14]

𝕓𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣𝕤 . 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟙

fandom: hazbin hotel

relationship: adam x demon!reader

summary: When fate hands you an angelic blade during an extermination, you take a bold risk, catching the first man’s eye.

additional tags: afab!reader, gender neutral pronouns, reader is a hellborn, slow burn, unlikely friends to lovers, star crossed lovers, mild ooc, canon critical, nuance, actually discussing morality, challenging stereotypes, crisis of identity, charlie’s plan is stupid, reader is an imp/succubus mix, eventual plot twist

a/n: dividers provided by @cafekitsune and header image made by me on BeFunky

Hell was made up of nine circles, seven of which were ruled over by the embodiments of the Deadly Sins, one of which you were born in. Surprisingly, the place actually got more and more idealistic the further down you went, and seeing as Pride was all the way at the top, you could say it was sort of like Hell’s version of LA or NYC, the big city where if you could make it there, you could make it anywhere. And on that note… it kinda sorta majorly sucked. 

Maybe it was just you and your own personal biases, but in comparison to the other rings of Hell, in your own opinion, the Greed Ring was the only thing that could compete with the first circle of Hell, if it weren’t for one single factor. 

Sinners. 

For some reason or another, when humans died, no matter the sin, they would all be confined to the pride ring upon arrival. And after spending several years observing not only Hell, but the people on Earth who would later be sent to Hell upon their inevitable deaths, you could confidently say that among other things, these damned souls were a big factor in what made the first ring of Hell so awful. Murderers, predators, abusers, manipulators, all these people who behaved more like parasites rather than human beings, heartlessly taking from the world in whatever form they desire in order to exploit whatever it has to offer. Sure, it was Hell, an inferno of evil and misery, but in your eyes, people like that only made it all the worse.

You couldn’t believe you had forgotten about Extermination Day. Seriously, it was marked on your calendar and the 666 News had even announced it a week in advance. 

You had just been walking the streets of the city when the sky suddenly opened up in a bright golden ring and the next thing you knew, you were hunkering down and watching Heaven’s army slaughter as many human souls as they could get their hands on, weapons shimmering with divine judgement. But you weren’t scared. Not only because Lucifer’s rule granted demons like you a pardon from exterminations, but you felt some odd sense of satisfaction. 

And now, here you stood, holding an angelic weapon you had found buried in the head of a sinner that somewhat resembled a chameleon with small black horns and spines protruding out of her back and tail. Looking down at the weapon in your hand, you caught your reflection in the shimmering blood-stained steel, and you could have sworn this was fate. 

You thanked your succubus parent in your head as you spread your wings out, gently stretching them before you took off into the air, holding the spear in your hands similarly to how you had previously observed exorcist angels wielding their own weapons. Within seconds, you had your eyes locked on a target and swerved around to cut them off at the pass, so to speak. They didn’t even see you until the very last second, allowing you to see the horror in their eyes the second before your blade sliced through the collar. Placing one foot on their shoulder, you yanked the barbed blade free, staining your ripped jeans with wine red splatters.

And all of a sudden you felt more powerful than ever before, unstoppable even, as an excited grin split across your face and you took off into the air and your eyes locked on a new target. The only thing you were missing was a badass music score.

Only a few hours in and heaven’s army had wiped out enough sinners to fill the center of Pentagram City. Multiple areas had been cleared out, and any trace of whatever soul was previously running it was gone with the ashes, now sitting in wait for any future demons to fight for the territory. The monochromatic uniforms worn by the exorcists stood out in stark contrast amongst the crimson soaked city. It was a bit of an eyesore, especially in comparison to the light and gentle colors of heaven, or the diverse hues of the Earth. The one who stood out amongst the army was the leader, who was currently striking sinners with flashes of holy light from his fingers, as his right hand wasn’t too far off. 

But then, there was a new figure amongst the carnage. Out of his peripheral, Adam caught a shimmer of an angelic weapon dashing through the air, but the wielder’s colors were not in uniform with his army. His gaze automatically followed, and he saw you swoop down towards the streets, swinging the weapon in your hands and slicing right through a sinner’s neck. You flew back up to perch yourself on a fire escape, allowing Adam to get a proper view of you. His eyes widened slightly as he recognized you as a hellborn. 

And you were killing sinners, and going by the little smile on your face as you wiped your forehead with your arm, you were having fun. Adam’s eyes were stuck on you for a good moment before Lute called for him. 

“Sir, the troops are moving.” 

“Lute, are you seeing this shit?” Adam asked, casually pointing in your direction. Lute’s gaze followed, and her usually stern and calculative expression shifted to one of surprise as she witnessed you take out another damned soul, this time by impaling them from the back. She could see it, but she could hardly believe it. 

A hellspawn wielding an angelic weapon and using it for its intended purpose. Definitely something neither of them were expecting to see today. “Should we do something about this?” she wondered aloud. It wasn’t necessarily that she thought you were a threat, at least not in this situation, but it disturbed her to think of how you may have gotten your hands on a holy blade.

Adam glanced between you and her for a second before coming to a conclusion. “You lead the troops to the east border zone, I’ll handle this. Rendezvous at the Mange district in five.” he instructed, pointing in the designated direction.

  “Yes sir.” Lute replied, albeit with a trace of hesitation in her voice, before she turned and flew back towards the rest of the army, while Adam went the opposite direction to follow you, keeping just enough distance as to not draw too much attention. He needed to see more of this.

He watched as you moved swiftly and struck quicker than some of his own girls did. One might even describe your hits as merciless, but the way you seemed to use the element of surprise on your targets granted them the mercy of a quick and sudden death. Or perhaps you preferred to not waste time. But by the looks of it, one of them was looking to get the jump on you while you caught your breath. Sinners didn’t typically bother trying to fight back against the exorcists, seeing as angels were invincible to weapons, whether they be from Hell or Earth. But you weren’t an angel, you were susceptible to weapons, and unlike sinners, if you were killed, there was no reviving. 

Adam’s hand moved without a second thought and in a second, the little shit was reduced to ashes.

Nice try, fuckhead. 

On the other hand, the blast of light from behind you startled you so bad you let out a short scream and shot up into the air, spinning around to see what the fuck just happened, still whiteknuckling the weapon in your hands. All you saw was the same old dirty street littered with corpses and a serrated dagger sitting in the middle of the street, mere meters away from where you had been previously standing.

“Hey.” 

Someone talking right behind you made you jump and turn around, and the sight you were met with nearly caused your wings to give out. The large golden wings and bright halo were a dead giveaway, you were flying mere meters away from the leader of the angelic army, who not only towered over you even when flying, but was also staring you down with an indecipherable look on his face, or rather his mask.

Ohhhhh… fuck. 

Adam scoffed out a chuckle, seeing your thoughts written all over your face. “Don’t piss yourself, I’m not gonna kill you. Couldn’t even if I wanted to anyway.” Adam explained, before pointing to the weapon in your grasp. “Just wanted to know where you got that.” 

You looked between him and your blade for a second, before finally finding your voice. “Oh, I just- I plucked it from a corpse.” you explained, eyes darting around a bit as you jut a thumb downward. You watched his expression as he seemed to gauge you, looking you up and down. “I’m sorry, should I… not have done that, or-?”  

Adam held a hand up, prompting you to stop mid sentence. “Heaven Embassy, this time, week from tomorrow.” he instructed- more like ordered- plain and simple. It took you a second to fully realize what he was telling you, but once you did, you straightened your back and held your head up. 

“Got it.” You could just barely contain the excitement in your voice. “Um, do you want this back when this is all done?” you asked, holding up the weapon in your hand. Adam seems a little surprised by your question, before he just smirked and shrugged.

“Nah, you hold onto it. Now,” Adam clapped his hands together and with a flash of golden light manifested a huge electric guitar with a color scheme to match his own, that apparently doubled as a battle axe. “Back to business. See you next week, and don’t be late!”

As Adam left, you stayed in your place for a moment, a little smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Snapping out of it, you returned to your objective, not even that upset that you lost track of your kill count. Head in the game. 

The bells tolled, the day was over. Your eyes drifted upwards towards the crimson skies as the heavenly portal reopened and the angelic army began to retreat back to their own realm. You may never know exactly what possessed you to spread your wings and take off into the air, despite only having so much stamina left. 

Luckily, your wings carried you just far enough for you to come to rest atop a tower, hooking your weapon on its spire and watching the exorcists ascend to heaven with a sense of wonder, but also a twinge of melancholy, longing for a light you knew you would never truly know. But perhaps getting to be this close could be just good enough for you. And hey, there was always Earth’s sunrises and sunsets, which were just as good. 

As the portal to heaven closed again, the clock tower tolled on, and the countdown reset back to 365.

Now may be a good time for you to head home. 

It took a little longer than normal to return home, considering you needed to keep a low profile and you were carrying an angelic weapon with you, especially having to smuggle that shit through Elevator 666 to get back to your home in the Lust Ring. And by a little longer, I mean by the time you were at your front door, the day was already half over. 

Once in the safety and privacy of your own abode, you spent a good twenty minutes cleaning as much blood as you could from your clothes, and then the blade before you tucked it away somewhere out of sight. Exhaustion took its toll as you fell backwards onto your bed, now in a different change of clothes. Turning over on your side, you grabbed your phone, still on its charger, and opened you routine apps, checking notifications and other such whatever. 

Then you remembered what Adam had told you before, ‘Heaven Embassy, this time, week from tomorrow.’ 

You decided to set a reminder on your phone now before you forgot. Once you saved the date, you wriggled around to get yourself under the covers, deciding to nap now and shower later. Midnight showers became more common for you ever since you moved into your own place. Within minutes, your eyes felt heavy, your breathing evened out, and rest began to overtake you, and you drifted off to sleep, smiling to yourself. 

The week couldn’t go by fast enough.

[One week later…]

After knocking out all your chores for the day, your phone pinged with the reminder you had set, ‘Heaven Embassy, tomorrow,’ while you were in the kitchen making yourself something to drink. Nibbling on your lower lip in excitement, you took a seat down on the couch and flipped your TV on so you could watch the same six episodes of your favorite show over and over.

“Breaking news in hell today!” exclaimed the unmistakable voice of news anchor, Katie Killjoy, as Channel 666 News interrupted your streaming time, giving you a small startle. Although you were initially annoyed at the disturbance, that annoyance quickly melted away as you listened to the news report. As the feed switched over to the giant hourglass in the pride ring, panning upward to show the countdown go from 358 to 176. 

No fucking way.

“Yes!!” you shouted with delight as you shot up from your seat, accidentally knocking your drink over, but you didn’t quite care at the moment as thrilled laughter filled your apartment. The day just got a whole lot better.

kudos to my mom for beta reading <3

tag list 🏷️ @circescircle @cosmiiwrites @angelicpoison12 @activesplooger @ithopi0s (comment if you’d like to be added on)

[imsilay]

APPETENCE

hey, idk how i managed to finish A WORK but here we are. MDNI. please :>

“C’mon liebling, you can do one more f’me” he mumbled softly as his fingers caressed your spine softly, running up and down within the length of it. “Didn’t you missed me?” his voice thick and low with arousal. You whined and squirmed on his lap with the feeling of his cum oozing out of your abused and puffy lips. He had been going for an hour and he looked like he had no intention of stopping any soon. His big palms covered the small of your back and massaged the sore muscles, earning a grunt from you.

“Do you ever get tired?” you whined and buried your head into his cloth covered neck. His mask was covering his expressions but you could just feel him pout at your words. “No, liebling.” he mumbled, squeezing your sides softly. “And here i was thinking i’m the old one.” you could hear the faint disappointment hidden in his voice. You felt like someone ripped open your ribs and punched you in the heart. The last thing you wanted was to disappoint him. Oh and he made sure to use that.

That manipulative bastard. You hated him for knowing you so well.

“Just one more.” your muttered and god he was like a child who got permission to eat candy. The candy being you, he grabbed you by your middle and lifted you up until he could line up his thick cock to your entrance. You dug your nails onto his shoulders aa he slowly sunk deep inside you, his tip kissing the sweetest spot inside your pulsing walls. “So fucking good.” he breathed, head trown back to headboard. You could see his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as you sat still on his cock. Neither of you made an attempt to move, he relished the feeling of your walls engulfing his cock to the brim and you tried to adjust the fullness. You could feel the sweat sliding on your back as you got more and more hot. König wasn’t any different from you, his bare torso and neck glistened with sweat, his chest rose and fell with quick breaths.

He was used to all kinds of tortures but none of them were as hard as being away from you. Not being able to feel any part of you or hear your sweet voice drove him mad. He was barking orders and slaughtering enemies, taking all of his anger out off the poor recruits and unlucky enemies that dared to stand on his way. Yet being the killing machine he was, he never dared to hurt you. Even with his words he was always on the thin ice. Thinking thousands of times before saying a word to you and restraining his hands in his pockets around you so he wouldn’t be all over you. Sometimes the urge to manhandle you around almost would get the best of him and he would fold his arms around his chest firmly, the voices in his heads screaming at him to grab your wrists and pin them to your back. Then he could bend you over that couch and pound into you like his sick mind wanted. But no, the day his hands landed on you, he swore that he’d cut them.

Handling you was such a delicate job, and he was as careful as a gardener with their favorite flower. His fingers grazed the soft skin of your sides as he brought them up, up to your cheeks. His calloused and lengthy fingers wiped the tears even you haven’t noticed yet. You shivered although you were burning inside. Leaning into his palm you fisted the hem of his mask, wanting nothing more than ripping it off and kissing him like the whole night you wanted. But you knew better, he had a rule.

The mask stays on. Which unfortunately meant no kiss for you.

“Easy.” he whispered softly, other hand that wasn’t holding your face pushed you into his chest. Your cunt clenched around his hard shaft. Your arousal dripped and soaked his balls. You squirmed when your sensitive nipples brushed against his chest. You could feel his muscular chest and toned abs right against your bare skin. The skin to skin contact calmed you down but it didn’t helped the way his thick cock spread you open. “Calm your adorable little butt down liebling. If you keep squirming i won’t be able to wait.” he breathed, biting down on his lip and pressing your body still against his with two big arms. “Then don’t.” you moaned, snapping the thin ropes that kept him together. His arms hold you still as he started to drag his cock in and out of you.

He started off slowly, finding a pace that made you nuzzle his neck and breath him in. And he kept picking up the pace as your moans hot louder and louder until you were screaming and the bed was making creaking noises. He cursed under his breath then bit his tongue to not moan like the whore he was. He couldn’t take it anymore. With a quick maneuver you were facing the ceiling and his big palms were grabbing your ankles. He looked godly as he kissed each ankle before throwing your legs over his shoulders and making you squeak with his tip kissing your cervix. Your feet dangled over his shoulders as he grabbed your waist and lifted you slightly off the bed until the angle was just right and he was reaching the deepest part of you with the each thrust.

You grabbed the sheets for dear life as he fucked you nice, fast and properly. Soon your walls pulsed and clenched around him, forcing him to cum inside you and milking every last drop of his cum. He replaced you carefully on the bed slowly pulling out off you and watching as his cum dripped out of your cunt. He wished his phone was near to film it. After a while of adoring the view he slumped on top of you like a weighted blanked. Very heavyweighted blanked. He pushed his mask above his lips and lazily sucked hickeys around your neckline. He was imagining to do it since you were bouncing on top of him at the beginning of the night. “Mein, mein, mein.” he whispered, hoping that you wouldn’t hear or understand but you heard and understood. Like every other nights. You were used to being claimed by him. You were his, at the end.

-

not proofread no nothing, just enjoy :>

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[a-killer-obsession]

Pirate's Pet [Wire x Reader]

Pirates come to your town, and one decides you look too nice to leave behind.

CW: NON-CON, yandere!Wire, chubby afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, kidnapping, bondage, breeding kink, forced pregnancy, use of ‘daddy’, panty kink, slapping, spitting, oral (reader receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v sex, forced orgasms, forced creampie, Stockholm syndrome, golden birdcage

WC: 2.6k

Masterlist || A03

You should have known better when the bell to indicate incoming pirates rang out over your small town. With no marines close enough to defend it, your town was at their mercy whenever pirates landed, and the bell was supposed to be the call to evacuate to the woods. You, stupidly, hadn't done so. You hated having to go to the woods, often having to stay there for hours, sometimes even days, until the all clear was given. Cold, wet, uncomfortable, getting pickled by sticks and small sharp stones whenever you tried to sit down. You thought that maybe this time you could just hide in the comfort of your home, instead of braving the heavy weather that had forced the pirates to dock in the first place. Big fucking mistake.

The pirates had broken down your door to search for goods, and when a tall man wielding a trident pulled you from under your bed and held you upside-down by your ankle, you knew you'd fucked up. He looked at you like a piece of meat, throwing you on the bed, ripping your blouse open to expose your bra, gagging you with strips he tore from your clothes, and throwing you over his shoulder like a slaughtered pig. Your relentless kicking and punching barely phased him, you may as well have been a fruit fly as he carried you back to the imposing ship he called home. You recognised his captain as Eustass Kid of the worst generation as the tall man carried you up the gangplank, the redhead merely laughing in amusement as you passed.

“Found yourself a toy, ey Wire?” Eustass laughed, “maybe this one will last a little longer.”

“Nice wide hips,” Wire reported, like he'd found a good sale at the market, and spanking your ass hard, “might be worth trying to get this one knocked up, she's got a good build for carrying a baby.” You screamed around your gag at the implication, Wire undeterred as you tried to fight your way off his shoulder.

“Aye, nice fat ass too,” another man, with pale blue dreadlocks and thorn like tattoos commented, “send her my way if you get bored aye?”

“Get your own, Heat,” Wire growled, carrying you up two sets of external stairs and through the door to the stern castle. He carried you through the short hall to his room, where he dumped you on his bed unceremoniously. Before you could scurry away he was grabbing your wrist and dragging it to the edge, where he cuffed it to a chain attached to a strong bracket on the wall. Before you had a chance to protest, he grabbed the other wrist and did the same with the opposite side, leaving you on your back in the middle of the bed, your arms spread out. It was clear he was set up for this, he'd obviously been planning to take a prisoner, and you'd been the only dumb bitch stupid enough to get caught. You kicked your legs at him, catching his face before he pinned your ankles against the mattress with his large hands.

“Do I have to chain your legs too,” Wire said flatly, removing your gag so you could answer him, “or are you going to behave?”

“BITE ME!” you shouted, spitting in his face.

“I will, later,” he purred as he wiped the glob of saliva from his face, “unfortunately I have shit to do before we can play, so you need to stay here and be a good girl.”

“Don't fucking touch me!” You screamed, trying to kick him again until he gave an exasperated sigh and chained you ankles as well, leaving you spread like a starfish. You tried to bite him as he pushed the gag back into your mouth, which earned you a hard slap that made your eyes water and quickly broke your spirit.

“You'll see soon that you belong here,” he cooed, running his hand down your front and breezing it over your breast, “perfect little thing, Daddy is gonna take such good care of you, and you're gonna look so pretty with my baby in you. Be good now sweetheart, or I'll have to skip bringing you dinner tonight, and we can't have that, can we? Gotta keep you nice and chubby so you're in good condition to grow my baby.”

You tried to scream but it was muffled by the gag, as Wire bent down and pressed kisses all over your face and down your neck, finishing at your breasts before he sighed contently and stood. “I'll see you in a few hours, then we're gonna have such fun,” he smiled before leaving you alone in the room, hearing the lock click into place as the door shut behind him. You fought against the restraints, testing for weaknesses, and when you found none there was nothing left to do but sob, hyperventilating as the gag made it hard to breathe until you ran out of air and passed out, your hindbrain taking over breathing for you now that you weren't awake and panicking.

You wake up to the sound of tearing fabric and a cold blade pressing against your skin as Wire cut and tore away your clothes, stripping you entirely until you had nothing but your panties on. He didn't want to waste your pretty lace panties yet, he could have a little fun with them before he tore them off too. “You're so beautiful,” Wire cooed as he pressed his thumb against your cunt to push the fabric between your folds, admiring how fat your labia were. He liked a girl with a bit of softness to her, what was the point of a girl if she wasn't lovely and soft and squishy? “I knew as soon as I saw you that you belong with me,” he smiled cruelly, “daddy's gonna make you feel so good. Such a lucky girl, you don't have to worry about anything anymore. No job or chores or other pirates, just gotta focus on getting nice and bred.”

You shook your head frantically, and he pinched your face hard in his hand, squishing your cheeks and making your lips purse. “No need to be shy about it,” he growled, “you belong here, you belong to me, you're not going anywhere so you can get rid of any silly notions of escaping. There's nowhere to go, we're out at sea and your town is nothing but ash.”

You whimpered as tears welled in your eyes, and Wire made soft shushes as he wiped the tears that escaped. “Shhh, shhh, daddy's got you now,” he cooed, “you're gonna be such a good mama, I know it.”

Wire settled himself to kneel between your legs, palming himself through his leather shorts, a noticeably large tent making your eyes widen. He unbuckled his pants and pulled out his long, thick cock, and you whimpered at the size. Wire noticed your fear and rubbed the head of his cock against your panty covered core. “Shhhh, don't worry mama, gonna be real gentle with you,” he soothed, “gonna get you nice and wet and begging for it first.”

Wire lent over you, caging you under his massive body and kissing you over the gag, before moving to your neck, groaning against it as he licked and nipped at your sensitive skin and relished your whimpers. Every little whine you let out made his cock throb, he couldn't wait to fuck your brains out. The head of his erection pressed against your panties, smearing precum over the fabric, the thin satin the only protection to keep his cock from forcing its way inside you. He trapped his length between your pussy and his hand, fucking the space between, rubbing against your covered clit. Your body began to betray you, clit swelling as arousal built from the friction, tears rolling down your cheeks as you struggled to refuse the stimulation.

Wire was quick to notice as the gusset of your panties grew wet, pulling them aside so he could run a finger between your folds to feel the slick you were making against your will. “Good girl!” Wire praised, “see, your body knows you belong here! Your pussy is so eager for me to breed you! Don't worry sweetheart, daddy is gonna give you what you need.”

The cuffs on your ankles dug into your skin as you fought to get away from him, unable to stop him as he tore the panties from your body, leaving you completely naked. He slid his shaft between your folds a few more times before deciding on something else, kissing and licking his way down your body until he was flat on his belly between your legs, his legs hanging off the end of the bed as he nosed against your pussy. “You smell so lovely,” he cooed, before licking a fat stripe up your cunt, chains rattling at your body went taut, “so sweet as well, mmm. I think I'll give you a reward before I fuck my baby into you.”

It felt like his tongue was trying to memorise every inch of your cunt, exploring every part of it, rolling against your clit and prodding at your entrance. You did what you could to pull tight the muscles there, but his strong tongue bullied its way inside you regardless of your efforts, lapping at your walls and making you produce more slick. There was nothing you could do to stop your body's natural processes when he was using his tongue so skillfully, if he hadn't taken you by force you would have been having a good time, but instead all you could do was whimper and struggle to bite back unwanted moans. You couldn't suppress the pleasured sounds forever though, especially not as he started sucking on your clit and pushing two fingers inside you, curling them to put pressure on your g-spot. The single moan you failed to hold back made him grin against you, knowing he had won, and quickly forcing a harsh orgasm from you.

You laid deadly still as your peak passed, making sad, defeated whimpers as he pulled his fingers from you. He crowded back over you, pulling down your gag and replacing it with his juice covered digits. “Taste how bad you want me,” he teased, “desperate little slut, begging to be bred. I'm gonna pump you full of so much cum it'll have nowhere to go but your womb.”

He gagged you with his long fingers before pulling away, focusing on lining his cock up with your entrance. “No!” You screamed, coughing from your strained throat, “please don't, please don't!”

“You mouth is saying no, but your soaked cunt is saying otherwise,” he grinned, grinding his length against you and letting his shaft get coated in your fluids, “don't worry, daddy will just give you the tip for now, until you can be a good girl and take all of it. We've got all night to mould your pussy to fit me.”

He pushed just the head of his cock inside you, slipping in easily thanks to his preparation, making short thrusts while you cried out for him to leave you be. He alternated between stretching you with the fat head of his cock, and rubbing it between your labia, each time giving you hope that he wouldn't put it back in before dashing those hopes away. Suddenly he sunk all the way in with a grunt, your warm wet hole being too much for him to resist, making you scream as he fully hilted his thick length in your tight cunt.

“You- you said you wouldn't!” You stuttered.

“I lied,” he grunted, “but look at you, you're doing so well sweetheart! You've got my whole cock inside you, I bet that feels nice huh?”

“No!” You spat back. He grabbed your face harshly and pinched it.

“Don't lie to daddy,” he growled, giving you a harsh thrust that forced a breathy moan from you. “See, it's good, huh? Nice and full! You'll be full of cum soon too.”

“No, don't!” You cried out as he started pumping you with his cock, your pussy making wet squelches as he fucked you. “No- hnng- s-stop, l-leave me alone! Hnng, fuck.”

“There it is,” Wire cooed, letting go of your face as you relented to his fucking, making soft moans as you failed to refuse how good it felt any longer, “there you go baby, I told you daddy would make you feel good. Let go sweetheart, you belong here, speared on my cock, taking all of me like you were made for me. Your pussy is fluttering around me, you're gonna cum on my cock soon huh?”

“No!” You denied, but your body was giving you away. The coil in your stomach was pulling tight, and you made heavy pants between moans as Wire gripped your hips and fucked you harder than you'd ever been fucked before, no doubt having the biggest cock you'd ever taken. You started feeling like maybe it wasn't so bad, being trapped here to be fucked and bred by a pirate, he said he'd keep you safe, right? Fuck, how long does Stockholm Syndrome usually take to kick in? Maybe you were just insane, or he really was actually fucking your brains out, so much that you no longer had the ability to think straight.

His thumb drawing circles on your clit pulled you from your thoughts, giving you the last push you needed to clamp down around him, coming with a scream and a gush of fluid neither of you expected. The not unwelcomed surprise made Wire groan and unload inside you, filling you till your overstuffed cunt was leaking. He took a few moments to rest against you, warming his cock and keeping his cum plugged up inside you. Eventually he pulled away, tutting softly as he saw the way his sheets were drenched.

“Oh sweetheart, you've made such a mess,” Wire cooed, “it's okay, daddy will take care of you. You've been such a good girl. Are you gonna behave if I unchain you?”

You gave a weak nod, your spirit entirely broken, disgusted at yourself for cumming not once, but twice, by your captor. You didn't move as Wire unclipped your shackles, pressing soft kisses to each limb where the cuffs had bit into your skin. He picked you up in a gentle bridal hold, carrying you to his bathroom and keeping you in his lap as he filled the tub, before lowering both you and himself into the water. He washed you slowly and methodically with luxurious smelling products, massaging your aching joints and your scalp as he worked shampoo into it. At some point you dozed off, waking in his bed, laid with fresh sheets, dressed in an expensive feeling satin nighty and tucked under mountains of blankets and furs. Next to you on the side table was a tray of food, not just scraps like you expected but good, tasty smelling food. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. He only wanted a baby right? You knew you wanted kids anyway. Maybe being the pet of some pirate who treats you well, spoils you and makes you cum hard wasn't the worst thing that could happen. Maybe you really did belong here.

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[more-cardigan-than-woman]

Working Away

Summary: Your boyfriend is away murdering people and calls in the middle of the night to get some help coming down.

Jason Todd x Reader

1.2k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, SMUT, masturbating, phone sex,dirty talk, pet names, implied choking, praise.

AN: two things, 1 Im bored, so take this. 2. I can't keep up with the tag lists and soz.

"Come on babygirl, pick up," Jason paces through the loft of his new safe house. This is the longest he's been away from you since you started dating. He wanted to call you when he landed days ago, but things thinged and he just didn't have time between all the killing and patching himself up. Today was mania, he finally found the head of the group he was looking for and it ended in a slaughter.

Its been a few hours now and he can't seem to come down from this high. His blood is pumping, his cock throbbing in his jeans, fuck he just needs to hear your voice. If that's all he can have for the moment he will take it until he can get back to you.

"Good mornin," you whisper into your phone, your voice still full of sleep, "you ok?"

"I'm alive if that's what you mean."

"Kay, goin back to sleep."

"No, wait. Sugar, can you," he hears the rustle of your blankets as you adjust yourself in bed, "can we just talk for a while?"

"Okay, just let me put ya on speaker."

"Are you comfy?"

"Yeah I am now."

"Got all your pillows?"

"Ah, hmm."

"Are you cold without me?" He asks as he slips his pants off and lounges back on the bed, "or are you wearing my shirt?"

"Yeah, but it's losing your smell," you roll over resting your head on his pillow, the scent of his shampoo still lingering, "what did you want to talk about?"

"You. How pretty you are, how much I wanna kiss you, how I wanna lick every inch of your perfect body and how fucking badly I wanna be inside you."

"Blood-lust, daddy?"

"Yes, Sugar. I need you."

The sleep rushes from your body as your pussy starts to ache, slipping your panties to the side you slide your fingers through yourself. "I miss you, it's not the same when I do it. I can't-'' you shiver when your fingertips graze over your clit, "-can't reach all the places your big hands do."

"Tell me what you want me to do." He spits into his hand once, twice, before sliding it down the inches of his hard cock, "I promise to do it when I get home."

"First I want you to kiss me," your hands grasp at your akin, "like that night in the alleyway."

"Mm.. I remember that night, the way you melted under my hands," he closes his eyes, recalling how your eyes watered when his hand slipped around your neck and he thrust you against that wall, "how pretty you looked under that light. Then I picked you up and had you against the wall."

"Yes, Jay. I want you to pick me up," your hand slips further down your body, "then throw me on the bed."

"I'll rip that shirt off you, " His hand pumps faster on his cock, “and anything else that gets in the way of my lips on your skin.”

"Your marks are fading," your hand holds your throat, "I need new ones, daddy."

"I can't wait to give you more. To mark up that soft skin of yours while my fingers are deep inside that pussy."

"So deep, my nails stabbing into your back." You moan as the picture starts to form in your head, your fingers thrusting inside of you, trying so hard to reach that spot that he always finds straight away.

"You sound so wet, Sugar. Fuck, I need to taste you.” he growls as he cock starts to drip on his hand, “What you to taste all this pre that's dripping down my hand right now."

"I love the taste of you.” your tongue darts out, the phantom taste of him in your lips,” Love feeling it drip down my chin and my throat.”

“Fuck, it stretches that pretty mouth so wide, doesn’t it.”

“Makes me feel so full.”

“My favourite is feeling your teeth graze over me.”

“You love that tiny bit of pain.”

"I do, Sugar. We're perfect together. Fuck, I love you." He groans, "I need to cum, you think you can-"

"Me too. I want you so bad. Need to feel you stretch me out," you pant, your back arching off the bed as your fingers attempt to get deeper, "I can't do it on my own, daddy."

"Yes, you can. I need you too." His hand tightens on his cock, the way your pretty pussy always does when he fucks up into you, "you know I can’t until you do. Now be a good girl," he smiles to himself when he hears your breathing pick up, "press your palm into your clit for me and let all those pretty noises out."

"Jay, fuck. Keep going." you imagine him, sitting in his room right on the edge, his hand wrapped around his cock, his eyes shut as he imagines you touching yourself. Sweat falling down his hardened brow as he tries to focus while also trying not to cum.

"You're such a good girl, wishing for me. Yes, let them out, fucking h'll. Like music to my ears, sugar."

"I'm getting close, fuck. I ah- I- Jason."

"You wanna cum for me? You wanna come for daddy?"

"Yes, please, pelase, pelase."

"Then do it, I wanna hear all of it."

Your orgasm cascades over you, days of pent up pleasure exploding all over you at once. Your limbs shake and your mind spins and you can hear Jason's pleas all around you.

“Sugar, I need you. Fuck, can you beg-” he moans, his words choppy as he tries to form a coherent sentence, “beg for it.”

“I need it, please,” your voice still hoarse, “I want it.”

“Do you? Not- Ah, fuck me. -more”

“Please cum for me, daddy. I can’t- please please.”

“Yes, Sugar. You want it, you want it in your mouth?”

“Yes, please, cover me in it.”

“I- Fuck, I’m gunna- I am- fuck, yes, Sug-ahhh.” he screams and you wish you were really there to drink it all down for him. You lick your lips, listening to Jason's incoherent praise as he comes down.

When he lets out a little sigh and you hear the thud of his back hitting the mattress you ask,. "Jay, when are you coming home?"

"I still got a few more days, Sugar."

"Okay," you roll over, snuggling into his pillow. The smell should be comfortable but at the moment it just makes you feel even more alone.

"You still there?"

"Yeah, I just. I need a bundle."

"I will give you all the cuddles when I get home. I promise."

"You better and that's not all I want."

"Tell me and it's yours."

"Everything you promised. Plus 3 days of uninterrupted Sugar time."

"You know I'd do anything for you."

"I know." You pause, shifting the blankets up and shoving a pillow behind your back, "Jay."

"Yes, baby."

"Can you stay on the line until I fall asleep?"

"Want a lullaby?"

"Yes please."

You start to drift off to the soft hums of a slow song, Jason's low baritone seeping into your dreams and keeping you safe until he returns.

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

IN PART 7 OF THE SERIES (TITLED “THE BREAKING POINT”], IT shows Sergeant Bill Guarnere and Edward “Babe” Heffron in a foxhole, wondering if I was about to take a step off the deep end.

“You’ve seen him,” Heffron says. “He’s all wound up like a spring.”

“He’s fine,” Guarnere says. “It wasn’t getting shot [in Holland] that got him, it was being in that hospital. I been there—okay? It ain’t pretty. Besides, once he was up and moving around, he was his old self again. I’m telling ya, Buck Compton’s fine.”

In real life, the events surrounding this time of the war are perfectly clear in my mind. This is what I remember:

One day in early January the anticipation we had been feeling for so long was shattered. Very suddenly, broad daylight, really bad shelling started coming in—big, heavy stuff. Ka-Boom! Ka-Boom! Ka-Boom! Ka-Boom! Landing on us was the most shocking display of firepower I had ever seen. It was absolutely merciless. I yelled to the guys—Incoming! Find cover!—something like that. Shrapnel flew and shredded every which way. Bursts of dirt and snow exploded all over. You could feel the ground bounce. You could taste gunpowder in your mouth. It was all very close. Thirlkeld was only a few feet from me. What he was doing aboveground for so long, I never knew, but he didn’t make it—we had been in the woods for so long you got used to the lulls. The shelling blasted away tree branches; huge limbs fell with thuds all around us. I could hear someone yelling, “I’m hit! I’m hit!” For some time, all was complete chaos.

The shelling stopped almost as suddenly as it began.

I think I was the first out of my foxhole, because I remember being the first to scream at what I saw. “Medic!” I hollered for all I was worth. “Medic!” Nobody seemed to be within shouting distance. I have a hard time explaining today how narrowed the focus is of anybody in my position. A platoon leader is down pretty low on the officer scale. Most of the time, no matter where we were, I was unaware of the bigger picture. My focus was a ditch or a road—just the fifty-yard stretch of land around me.

When I got up to survey what had happened, I couldn’t believe how my fifty yards had been ravaged. It looked like slaughter alley— huge trees blown down, ground ripped up, a whole bunch of guys lying all over the place, some motionless, some gasping, unintelligible words coming out of their mouths. It’s a terrible thing to see your guys like that. Death was everywhere. These were the first heavy losses we’d taken at Bastogne.

In the series it shows me coming out of my foxhole to survey the damage. I scream for a medic, then drop my helmet and just stand motionless. In the next scene there’s a fury of activity around me while I’m sitting on a fallen tree with my head in my hands. Then it shows me lying on a cot in a field hospital. I’m in the fetal position in tears with Malarkey next to me, trying to read me a letter from back home to cheer me up.

I appreciate the series for doing that (even though all but one of those scenes were fictionalized) because it shows the progression of a soldier who suffered from combat stress reaction, commonly known as shell shock. Truly, there were men in World War II—in any war— who are so affected by the horror of their experiences that they break under pressure. But although I was affected by the horrors of Bastogne, I do not believe I was clinically shell shocked, as the series portrays me. In real life, while I was hollering for the medic, trying to figure out what to do, I remember two distinct thoughts:

How are we going to help the wounded guys? We were so alone out there. Company headquarters, battalion headquarters—they were all far away.

My second thought was: Maybe this is the time the Germans are really going to get us all. They’ve been softening us up. Now, this is it. With all these guys wounded, what the hell are we going to do to fight back?

Truly, it was an impossible sight to take in—to know what to do, to know how to help. I had seen men die before. I had seen men get wounded before. But this was different. This was unprecedented gore.

More than a dozen of our guys lay bleeding in the snow. Guarnere and Toye, probably the two toughest guys in the unit, had both taken it bad. Toye had gotten hit first. I guess Guarnere had crawled out of his foxhole after him, trying to drag him to safety. In the process, Guarnere had taken one as well. Both were missing legs. Our medic, Eugene Roe, got to Toye first and tied a bandage around what was left. He gave him a large hit of morphine, then went to Guarnere to do the same. Toye had only recently returned to our unit from an aid station where he got his arm patched up. He and Bill were good friends of mine. Deep red smears were all over the ground.

Dick Winters wrote in his book (not critically of me) that I suffered a serious mental trauma after the shelling and simply “walked off the line.” He was at battalion headquarters at the time and not present in the area of my platoon, so his information came secondhand. I mean no criticism of him by clarifying the facts.

In truth, I did not “walk” off the line.

I ran.

~ Buck Compton

[sehtoast]

Rebirth (Homelander x OC)

18+ | heavy descriptions of gore, s4 e4 spoilers, the bad room, mentions of sexual abuse/trauma, torture, they're making each other worse in this one actually and homie deserves that kind of ride or die vibe | Fic Directory

“So, how do you feel?”  

Such a simple question for such a… gruesome task.  Benjamin had gone with Homelander to his moment of reconciliation.  Even helped him pipe sloppy icing writing onto that ugly little Carvel cake.

He knew everything.  Long ago, after busting into Stan Edgar’s personal terminal, Ben found the tapes and files on Homelander’s childhood.  Watching them had been sickening at best, but hearing the personal account as described to him by his lover over the years?

Even the do-no-harm bug himself couldn’t find a reason to prevent Homelander from following through.  He’d found John crying in front of that shattered mirror and pulled him out of his stupor once the banter ended.  Benjamin held him on the couch as he sobbed as he often did after run ins with the different facets of his psyche.  Used to be that there was no one to hold him at all, but the bug changed that.

Homelander would crash, but he would have somewhere safe to burn.

He thought about John’s various accounts of his childhood on the flight to the compound.  The incinerator, the bad room, how on edge he always was under the all seeing eye of big brother.

Usually the violent details emerged after nightmares.  Babbled words and cries for mercy as he tossed and turned until he’d shoot up in bed with his eyes primed to protect himself from his own memories.  Benjamin always held him afterward and listened.

“Sometimes I can still feel it,”  John would say, eyes glassy as he’d fight to keep those little shakes from turning into sobs.  No signs of weakness, no reaction.  Part of his conditioning– he cannot let the world know it hurts.  He cannot be a disappointment.

Ben would all but beg him to let it free anyway.  “You don’t have to be strong with me, pumpkin,”  he would always whisper.  “I love you even when you’re not.  Promise.” 

“But I– I have to be,”  Homelander would reply.

Benjamin always asked why.

John could never give an answer.

The worst were the more… intimate details.  Benjamin knew less about these, but there’d always been a sneaking suspicion that things along the lines of that happened.

Homelander spilled the beans after a panic attack during foreplay.  Stuttered out the details of masturbating during the security guard’s breaks. Doing what young boys do, he’d said.  Failing to finish in time and finding himself subject to mockery day in and out.

The resulting body image and self confidence issues, and the occasional difficulty with performance were all the consequence of some jackass further torturing the boy who never had a safe moment to feel what he described as the only good he could find in that awful room.  

Each time, Ben held him.  Promised him he was safe.  There’s no judgment, no mockery, no humiliation, and certainly no name-calling.  With kisses pressed to John’s knuckles, the two would talk it out until the world became steady again.

It’s why Benjamin doesn’t mind watching John laser that piece of shit’s dick clean off.  He doesn’t bat an eye to any of it.  The torture they face is but a fraction of what they’d done to that little boy– a drop in the lake of the things they swear up and down they don’t recall.

The axe forgets, but the tree remembers.

After listening in on Barbara’s account of Homelander’s conditioned obedience and the nature of his birth, he finds he has no problem holding her steady as his love slaughters the rest of them before her eyes.  

Bit by bit, he dismembers them.  Split them in two and paints the room with their remains.  He laughs and laughs, grinning wide and proud as he pries a man’s jaw open until his neck splits just to rip the tongue from his gullet and chuck it at her face.  He doesn’t stop until they’re no more than unrecognizable piles of flesh and viscera. 

True to their perfected teamwork, Ben webs Barbara to the wall to feast her eyes upon Homelander’s good work, and John?

Well, lasering the door and melting it forever shut was ingenious.

She will die in there, nice and slow. It’s no less than she deserves.

It’s heartbreaking to see how little it did to soothe Homelander’s pain.  Revenge, as Benjamin had told him many times, never quite worked out the way people wanted it to.  It’s potent for as long as it takes for the elevator to reach the surface.  It simmers during the flight.  Fades by the time they touch down at the tower.

And then turns to deep, lurching sobs as they shower it all away.

Release, yes… but not enough.  

It could never be enough.

“Johnny–”

“Homelander,” he chokes through tears. He’d been correcting people all day about his name.  “I’m– I just–”

Ben shushes him softly, thumbs swiping away the odd gooeyness of blood and tears.

“H-Homelander… just–” he tries again.  “Just for now… please…” 

Because Homelander was safe.  Homelander had the strength to overcome.  Homelander was the ideal and the power to protect himself.

The arms around Ben’s abdomen pull him impossibly closer.

“Homelander,” Benjamin murmurs, still stroking softly at his love’s face.  “I love you.”

Maybe not the best thing to say to the man claiming to be casting off the shackles of love, but certainly something always worth reminding him of while he crumbles.  There’s a million promises behind those three little words.

I love you when it hurts.  I love you when it doesn’t.

When it is ugly.

When it is beautiful.

As long as it is you.

His love succumbs to more cries, but Homelander knows, deep down, that it’s okay.

He is safe.

He is loved.

There will be no mockery. No humiliation.

Here, in the arms of his little spider, he need not be strong.  Here, he may simply be.