#The Devil Is Dancing Tonight | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bellaxgiornata · 2 months ago

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Catcalling the Devil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings/tags: drunk Reader, humor, terrible flirtatious comments, and lots of appreciation for the Ass of Hell's Kitchen

Summary: A night out takes an amusing turn when you accidentally and drunkenly catcall the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

a/n: This little one shot is brought to you thanks to the Murdock Tuna Team who not only inspired the idea, but helped create some of the flirtatious banter. I just couldn't resist the idea of catcalling the Devil in the black suit, okay? Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Pushing open the door of Alchemy, you stepped outside and onto the sidewalk. The sweltering heat of Hell’s Kitchen greeted you, the humidity mixing with the sticky sweat already coating your skin and adding another uncomfortable layer of dampness. But it still felt far more refreshing outside in the humid evening air than it did inside the busy bar with countless other sweaty bodies packed together. The usual buzz of the city at night was even welcoming in comparison to the loud music that had been steadily aggravating the pounding in your head for the past twenty minutes.

Walking unsteadily in your heels, you turned to the right and made your way over towards the corner of the building and away from Alchemy's main doors and thumping music. One of your hands reached up as you stumble-walked, grabbing at the neck of your dress and peeling it off of your wet skin to allow some air to flow inside and cool your heated body. You’d spent a good portion of your evening drunkenly dancing with your friends as you celebrated Elise’s birthday tonight, which was why you'd decided to wait for your Uber outside of the bar–so you could catch your breath before heading home.

As you neared the alley, your ankle unexpectedly twisted when your heel caught in a crack along the sidewalk. A surprised gasp slipped past your lips as you began falling forward face-first towards the pavement. Your hand released the neck of your dress and instinctively flew out to your side, your palm landing against the brick of the building just in time to awkwardly catch yourself. Struggling to steady your inebriated self, you stayed bent in half as the pavement swirled beneath your black heels.

Once the spinning had finally stopped, you threw your other hand out and began to desperately claw your way back upright with both hands along the brick. Limping forward, you leant up against the side of the bar and tried to ease the pressure off your now sore ankle. With a low groan you attempted to find a comfortable position against the brick, supporting your weight more fully along the wall and resigning yourself to waiting right here for your Uber. Internally you cursed yourself for wearing such tall heels and drinking as much as you had tonight–hopefully you hadn’t actually injured your ankle. You’d probably be regretting your decisions in the morning, especially since you still had to go into work.

Reaching up, you ran the back of your hand across your forehead in an attempt to remove some of the sweat that had accumulated there. But just as you’d begun to lower your hand back to your side, movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. Your head turned in the direction of it, your vision spinning momentarily before everything came back into focus. Though the second your brain managed to make sense of the black blur on the rooftop, your mouth fell open. Because there on the roof just above you was the infamous Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

“There’s no way I’m this drunk,” you muttered to yourself.

You watched as the dark figure crouched down low on the corner of the building, his body hunched like a gargoyle overlooking the street below. He was only a few floors above you and seemingly searching for something with the way his head was scanning the street below as it moved back and forth in sharp movements. With his back turned towards you while he was lowered in a crouch, you had been left with a perfect view of his backside under the city lights. Whether it was due to how absolutely glorious the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’s ass looked in his black pants while you were almost directly beneath him, or due to the handful of shots and cocktails you’d recently drank down, you’d suddenly loosed a long, low whistle out into the night.

Immediately the Devil’s head snapped over his shoulder the second you’d whistled. Eyes growing wide in shock, your body straightened against the wall behind you instantly. You hadn’t even realized you’d just catcalled the Devil until you’d actually done it. And now he was crouched atop the roof and staring right down at you.

For a long time you stood there locking eyes with the masked man–or so you assumed, considering you couldn’t see his eyes beneath the black on his face. Neither of you moved, neither of you spoke, yet a tension had quickly formed in the air.

Until a peel of laughter bubbled right up out of your mouth.

The Devil’s head tilted sharply to the side as the sound echoed through the alley beside you. You threw a hand up to cover your mouth, trying to stifle the noise, but somehow that only made you laugh harder. Because no one would believe you about this later. But your laughter fell short when the Devil rose to his full height on the rooftop, spinning around to face you with a fluid grace that had made your head spin in return. Biting down on your lip, you fought back another round of laughter as tears began to form in your eyes. You’d only managed to reduce your amusement at the situation to barely restrained giggles before he spoke.

“Something wrong?” the deep voice called out.

You shook your head quickly, the Devil briefly blurring into three Devils above you. Throwing your hand up into the air, you sent him a single thumb’s up. “No!” you answered, stifling another giggle. “Everything’s fine, Devil. Just–just appreciating the view.”

His head cocked to the side even further, the sight reminding you of a dog. Another giggle slipped out of you before you could stop it. Though you once more bit down on your lip when the vigilante began to expertly climb his way down the side of the building. Openly admiring his body as you readjusted your position against the wall–which was currently still single-handedly keeping you upright at the moment–you watched as he easily made his way from the roof to the alley. If it hadn’t been for the curious, pleased smile that was clearly spread across his lips when he came to stand just a few feet away, you might’ve felt nervous that he’d suddenly taken as much of an interest in you as you had in him.

“Appreciating the view?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Your ass.”

The Devil’s lips twitched at your bold honesty and you bit back another giggle. This whole situation was so unbelievable it was actually absurdly hilarious.

“So you’re saying that you interrupted me solely just to whistle at my ass?” the Devil inquired. “Did I hear that right?”

Pushing away from the wall, you stumbled forward a step, squaring your shoulders and looking him straight in the eyes–or where you thought they were. “Yeah. Couldn’t exactly resist,” you answered, your words slurring a bit as you spoke. “You’re carryin’ an entire bakery’s worth of devil’s food cake back there.”

You wildly waved a hand towards the Devil’s lower half, sloppily gesturing towards his ass. His head once more tilted curiously to the side, the grin on his lips growing even wider in clear amusement.

“Devil’s food cake?” he questioned.

“Y’know,” you said, waggling your eyebrows suggestively at him. “‘Cause of all that–that cake you got back there. Wouldn’t mind a piece, personally.”

A huff of laughter slipped past the Devil’s lips and you brightened at the sound as it registered in your intoxicated ears. His positive reaction was only going to encourage you now.

“Are you… flirting with me?” he asked incredulously. “Because you do realize who I am, right?”

“Wouldn’t be the worst guy I’ve hit on tonight,” you replied with a shrug.

The Devil laughed, shaking his head as his attention dropped down towards his boots. A grin lingered along his lips, something almost bashful. But your focus openly shifted back down to the profile of his ass, your eyes appreciating the way the dark fabric stretched over him.

“Y’know it’s my friend’s birthday tonight,” you told him, swaying unsteadily on the sidewalk. “Didn’t realize you were the one bringin’ the cake.”

A snort of laughter met your comment, your smile growing wide as you watched the Devil’s head rise back up. He was smirking now, something mischievous in the way his mouth had twisted beneath the hard line of his mask.

Grinning back at him, your right hand cupped around your mouth as you leaned forward towards him. “But maybe you can let me blow out the candle,” you drunkenly half-whispered.

He shook his head at you, but the mischievous twist of his lips remained beneath the black fabric of his mask. “You're a bold drunk, aren't you?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you mumbled back, your eyes fixing along his lips. Without even thinking, you blurted next, “Wouldn’t mind climbing you like a building.”

Another surprised snort of amusement fell out of him as he shook his head at you once more. “You’re full of so many terrible lines,” he teased back with a chuckle. “You do realize that, right?”

“Oh I’ve got plenty more,” you assured him with a nod, exaggeratingly waving a dismissive hand in the air between you both. “Don’t you worry. Could totally do this all night.”

“Oh really?” he asked. “Is that right? Because I certainly can make time for this.”

Your hand stopped flapping in the air between you both, a single finger raising up. “Okay, wait,” you amended. “I have an Uber coming. So maybe not all night, but probably a few more minutes.”

“Mmm,” he hummed out, his smile briefly slipping. “Shame because this is turning out to be the most fun I’ve had so far in the mask.”

“Wanna make it more fun?” you asked, grinning suggestively at him.

The Devil’s bottom lip rolled between his teeth as he tried to bite back his growing smile. Something warm heated you, starting at the base of your skull and trickling down to your toes. Your eyes focused back on his mouth as your tongue slid out, licking your lips. You'd only been jokingly flirting, but now…

“Hate to be the voice of reason here,” the Devil began, “but I don't sleep with intoxicated women that I meet in alleys. I much prefer sober consent.”

“What a pity,” you mumbled, face contorting into a pout. “Never would've thought the Devil was a gentleman .”

“I'm full of surprises,” he teased.

You hummed thoughtfully in response, taking a step into the alley towards him and stumbling a little in your heels. Ignoring the growing throbbing of your ankle, you focused on the thrill of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen actually letting you flirt with him. You wanted to enjoy every minute of it, even if you probably wouldn't remember this moment too clearly in the morning.

“Anyone tell you you’ve got a pretty mouth?” you asked him.

The Devil shook his head, his smile returning. “No. Can't say the criminals I meet are too fond of passing out compliments when I'm hitting them,” he replied.

“Well you do ,” you assured him. “You really, really do .” Eyes narrowing at the plush lips of his still quirked into a smile, you studied the shape of them amongst the faint bit of dark stubble. “Reminds me of my boss. Now that's a mouth I'd love to do things with,” you drunkenly confessed. “But see,” you continued, pointing a firm finger at the Devil’s chest, “ he’s an asshole. Not fun like you.”

The Devil’s head tilted to the side again, his grin growing into a smirk. “Oh he is, is he?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered. “Great ass, huge asshole. I’m–I’m sure there’s a stick shoved in there somewhere.”

The Devil barked out a laugh into the night as you reached into your purse and pulled out your phone. Squinting as the bright light assaulted your eyes, you saw that your Uber was mere minutes away. You loosed a disappointed sigh.

“Your ride almost here?” the Devil asked.

“Unfortunately,” you answered, returning your phone to your purse. “Unless you wanna be my ride tonight?”

Zipping your purse back up, you heard the Devil let out another laugh. Your smile grew along with your surprise at this whole interaction. You hadn’t anticipated just how fun the masked vigilante actually was considering how he spent his evenings. It was a shame you’d never meet him again.

“Have you fallen tonight?” the Devil asked, still grinning at you.

You held up a hand, preventing him from continuing his thought. “If you're about to ask if I fell from heaven,” you slurred, “then I'm disappointed in your lines, Devil man.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head and laughing softly. “I’m just concerned you might have a concussion because of your continued flirting with a known vigilante. You should probably get your head checked out.”

“ You can check me out,” you teased coyly, sending him an exaggerated wink.

The Devil’s mouth opened, about to reply, but then his face darted over your shoulder, the corner of his lip twitching. You frowned when he took a step back, aware the gesture meant this entire interaction was quickly coming to an end. You didn’t want it to.

“Think your ride’s about here, actually,” the Devil said, further backing up into the alley. “Seems this is where I say goodnight.”

“Oh c’mon, don’t go yet!” you begged his retreating form. “I didn’t get any devil’s food cake!” you called after him. “How ‘bout a piece to-go? Sharing is caring!”

But somehow the Devil had quickly disappeared into the darkened alley, the only proof of his presence the echo of his laughter bouncing off the brick walls. The sound sent a pleasant chill up your body, a smile still lingering along your lips as you teetered on the spot staring after him.

The pounding in your head hit you almost immediately after the sound of your alarm hit your ears. Groaning miserably as your entire body protested waking, your hand blindly flew out from beneath the sheets and felt around for your phone. Opening your eyes, you immediately hissed in pain as the bright light in your bedroom burned them. You blinked rapidly, trying to push past the growing throbbing in your head in order to shut off your irritating alarm.

Silence finally settling once more in your room, you tossed your phone back down onto your nightstand and rolled onto your side before immediately halting. A wave of nausea hit you instantly and you squeezed your eyes closed, hoping to fight the feeling back. You needed to get up and get ready for work. You had twenty minutes to wash up, brush your teeth, and throw on clothes before you had to be out the door or you'd be late, and you could only imagine how irate your one boss would be if you were. You didn’t have time to get sick.

After a few moments, you were grateful when the nausea subsided. Cautiously you tested things, slowly opening your eyes again before tentatively pushing yourself upright in bed. The pounding in your head continued to rage on, another pathetic groan slipping past your lips. Drinking like you'd done on a weeknight last night had been a horrible idea. Vaguely you recalled the evening in flashes–doing rounds of shots, dancing with your friends, flirting with some guy. Most of the night remained a blur, though.

Feeling half-alive, you climbed out of bed and focused on getting ready for work. You'd briefly washed off in the shower, scrubbing yourself just clean enough to remove the scent of alcohol that felt like it was seeping out from your pores. Then you brushed your teeth vigorously before swirling some mouthwash around in your mouth, the taste of which had you fighting bile once more back down. Then you threw on whatever clean blouse and slacks your hands touched first, shuffling through your apartment towards your shoes as you pulled your pants on.

It had ultimately taken you more than twenty minutes to get ready for work and to get out the door since you'd had to stop and brace yourself against a wall or piece of furniture multiple times–either due to the pain in your head or the roiling in your gut. Then you'd been in a hurry making your way out of your building and towards the office, the morning sun and the usual city traffic only further aggravating your headache. By the time you'd finally gotten to work, you were more than ten minutes late and out of breath.

“I am–” you pushed open the door to the office, panting hard as you spotted one of your bosses leaning against your desk, “–so sorry. Was trying to get here on time but I went out last night. This morning was a struggle.”

“Well you're here now, at least,” Foggy said, glancing up from a paper in his hands at you. His brows creased together as he eyed you, his nose visibly scrunching in distaste. “Though you smell like you slept in a bathtub of liquor and you look like you woke up to fight a pissed off honey badger.”

You laughed lightly, the noise further irritating your head as you hurried over towards your desk before making your way around it. “Yeah. I'm aware,” you replied. “I'm sorry. My friend had a birthday last night and I went out to celebrate. I definitely drank too much and I completely regret it. I promise I learned my lesson.”

“Certainly not the best decision,” Foggy agreed. “But I'm glad to hear that. Maybe next time–”

“You're late.”

Your head darted over your shoulder at the sound of your other boss. Grimacing at the stern look on Matt’s face, your shoulders slumped as you set your bag down onto the top of your desk.

“I know, I'm sorry, Mr. Murdock,” you apologized. “It was a one time thing, it won't happen again, I promise.”

“Good, it better not,” he said, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe to his office. The corner of his lip twitched upwards for a second before he raised his coffee cup to his mouth, hiding the smile threatening to spread onto his lips. “Fog's right though, you smell like you bathed in the alcohol instead of drinking it. Can you even remember your night out?”

Chewing your lip awkwardly, your brows furrowed as you tried to recall last night. Though the sight of Matt standing there casually leaning against the doorframe drinking his coffee, the buttons of his sage green dress shirt struggling as he did, was making it hard for you to focus.

“Uh, bits and pieces of it?” you answered.

“Mmm,” he hummed out, lowering his coffee cup. “Well, hopefully your evening was worth showing up late for. I certainly enjoyed my night, though. Woke up in a good mood this morning, actually.”

Your eyes narrowed at the smile on his face, something tickling at the back of your mind at the sight of it. But Matt smiling instead of scolding you when you messed up was an unusual occurrence, one that had you hesitantly and distractedly lowering down into your desk chair.

“Which is why I brought doughnuts for everyone this morning,” Matt continued, gesturing a hand towards your desk. “I hope you still have an appetite after all the alcohol.”

“They're so good,” Foggy told you. “They’re from that new bakery a block over.”

Foggy slid the white box you hadn’t noticed on your desk over towards you. You watched as he flipped the lid open, the strong and sweet aroma of sugar and chocolate hitting your nose. Your stomach rumbled hungrily as you eyed the delicious chocolate pastries.

“Since when do you bring in doughnuts?” you asked, glancing back over at Matt.

He pushed off the doorframe, shrugging his shoulder. “I don't know,” he said, a strange smile drawing itself wide across his lips. “For some reason I woke up with a craving for devil's food cake and I just thought I’d share.”

With a deep chuckle Matt turned around, making his way back into his office. Head tilting curiously to the side, your eyes lingered along his backside as that strange feeling of something trying to reach the forefront of your mind returned.

Matt Murdock One Shot/Shorts Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1 @scriptedmoon @ardent-crow @lucienofthelakes @sarahskywalker-amidala @flowher @loves0phelia @a-half-empty-g1rl

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil

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rainhee-dazedd · 5 months ago

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save the dick, and ride the abs instead

reader has a higher libido than sunghoon (lmao-)

honestly how could you blame yourself for being horny still after having hours of sex with your bf, sunghoon. this man himself has always been the center of attention by thousands of woman and u could count urself as one of them. throwing your body bf his body voluntarily without him asking, that's how he made u feel.

u slowly shift your body around, making as little sound as you could to not wake sunghoon up. as you remove your underwear and pulling away the blanket that was covering sunghoon's body. revealing his carefully crafted body thanks to many years of ice skating plus dancing.

you slowly put both your thighs on both sides of his body bf lowering it your body right onto his abs. careful to not put to much weight onto him and waking up. guess someone's dream of trying somnophile is coming through tonight as u grin to urself.

leaning your body back, and your hands supporting half your weight before you slowly rubbed yourself onto the rough ridges of his abs. despite the cold night's air, your body's still burning up and your mind getting hazy as you admire sunghoon's innocent face as you used his body to pleasure yourself.

letting out quiet gasps as your clit catches the rough edges of sunghoon's abs. despite your pussy making a lot of wet sounds, you can't bring yourself to stop and bother that you're gonna wake sunghoon up. feeling your hole clench at the thought of being caught by sunghoon.

"was my dick not satisfying enough that you're beginning to use my abs now?" speaking of the devil. sunghoon's grinning to himself, enjoying the sight before him as your hips are desperately rubbing him as your back arches, lifting your tits up to the air as your nipples turning hard due to the cold air.

your mind is blank right now as you desperately chase your high and all you could do is whine. you feel cold hands wrap around your hips, guiding you to ride faster. you lean forward, hovering over sunghoon's face as your hands give out behind you. sunghoon taking the opportunity and latching his mouth onto one of your tits. and that's when you lose it and you let out a quiet scream as the knot inside you snaps and your vision turns white. you're feeling your cum cover sunghoon's whole stomach and some of them sliding off between your thighs and his body. your body gave up and leaned onto sunghoon's cum covered skin and staining yourself too.

"fuck you squirted?" as you feel his breath against your neck.

"yea I guess so." speaking through heavy breaths as you felt his arms go up and down your back.

"wanna go for another round?"

#sunghoon smut #sunghoon #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines

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summerwritesfics · 4 months ago

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🌓As We Dance With The Devil Tonight, Chapter 1 - Still Can’t Find What Keeps Me Here

Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang Length: 5207 Words Rating: Mature Warnings: Dark Fantasy AU, Elf!Kuai Liang, Demon!Quan Chi, Whump, Abduction, Magic, Magic Eating, Torture, Chains, Demon Deals, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Undressing, Non-Consensual Touching, NSFK (Not Safe For Kuai), Altho tbh it’s also not gonna be safe for Bi-Han or Tomas later in the fic either lol

As We Dance With The Devil Tonight Masterlist

Notes: This was originally going to be for Meanwhile In Another Universe but oops I got a bit carried away with it ^^;; I know, I know another chaptered fic when I already have a ridiculous amount to work on already. Shh, let me just have this lol. NGL this is going to be 99% Kuai Liang Whump. It’s quite tame in his chapter but I have some ideas for later where he’s going to be… very not okay :) I have a vague plan where this fic’s gonna go plotwise. At the moment tho I’m trying to decide how much I wanna torture Bi-Han and Tomas too. 🤔 Like, straight up, they are gonna suffer, but it’s just deciding how mean I wanna be towards them. Fic title is from “Dance With The Devil” by Breaking Benjamin and the Chapter title is from “Haunted” by Evanescence.

Kuai pulled his hood a little further over his head, desperately trying to keep warm as the wind howled around him. The forest shook, trees waving from the power of the storm. He was lost, completely and utterly so. The dark night only being slightly illuminated by the light of the moon did not help. All he could really hope for was that he would find somewhere to shelter for the night.

He kept on going, although he was certain he was probably going in circles rather than in a straight line. He swore to the gods he’d seen this tree before. Or was this just a very similar looking tree? He didn’t know, he was so cold and confused.

Then, in the distance, between the trees, he spotted what looked like a light. He broke out into a short jog, heading towards it. As he got closer, he found himself coming out into a clearing, and nestled within it was a very ornate and old looking house. Well, more than a house, it appeared to be a mansion. Why someone would live out here, Kuai did not know, but there were lights in the windows, meaning someone lived there. He just had to hope they would take pity on him and allow him shelter, at least until the morning.

He ran towards the door, and once close enough he took the large bronze knocker in his hand and slammed it against the wood. As he waited to see if there was any sign of life, he hopped from one foot to his other, trying to keep himself warm.

Slowly, the door creaked open, revealing a very tall man with long hair and a beard, wearing a yellow outfit. He glared at Kuai as if to demand what the meaning of all this was.

“Um. Hello Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you,” Kuai began, trying to keep his voice even despite how his teeth chattered. “I’m afraid I’m lost in the forest, I was hoping maybe I could shelter here for the night.” The man didn’t reply, just continued to stare at him with a cold expression. “I- I swear I will leave as soon as the sun rises and-”

“Hanzo? Who is it?” A voice called from further inside the house, prompting the man at the door, Hanzo apparently, to move aside. The second man was bald, pale to the point of his skin pretty much being white, with red tattoos decorating his skin. He stared at Kuai Liang with interest.

“He claims he’s lost,” Hanzo muttered, seeming very unhappy about the entire situation.

“Lost?” The second man questioned, stepping a little closer.

“I- I was just hoping to shelter until the sun comes up,” Kuai quietly requested again, but the more this second man looked at him, the more he got the feeling this was a very bad idea. What other choice did he have though? He didn’t really want to continue wandering the seemingly endless maze that was the forest.

“Oh, but of course you can.” The second man held out his hand to Kuai Liang, and against his better judgement, Kuai took it and let the man guide him in. “I am Quan Chi, and that is my loyal servant Hanzo.”

“My name is Kuai Liang,” he replied, reaching his free hand to pull his hood down. As he did, Quan Chi’s eyes widened and a strange smile came across his face. It made Kuai’s stomach do flips if he was being honest.

“Oh my. You wouldn’t happen to be an elf, would you?” Quan Chi questioned, leaning in a little to look closely at Kuai’s ears. Long and pointed, it gave away his species every time.

“I am, yes.” There was no point in lying, it was plain to see. That sinking feeling continued when Quan Chi licked his lips. “Is that… A problem?”

“Oh no, far from it.” Quan Chi suddenly looped an arm around Kuai’s waist, before guiding him further into the house. It made him squirm slightly, but somehow it felt far too impolite to say anything. This man was offering Kuai a place to stay the night, after all. “I am just curious what would bring you out into the forest this late at night.”

“My brothers are waiting for me in the next town over,” Kuai explained, looking around as he did. This house was full of strange artefacts, statues and artworks. “I misjudged how long it’d take for me to walk, and the next thing I knew, darkness was falling and I think I accidentally stumbled off the path.”

Quan Chi hummed, hand squeezing Kuai Liang’s hip. “I see, that is unfortunate. You are lucky to have stumbled upon my humble home.”

“Ah, I guess I am, yes.” He didn’t dare point out that the term humble absolutely did not fit this sprawling and extravagant mansion. “Thank you for opening your home to me.”

“Oh, believe me, it’s my pleasure.” Quan Chi pushed Kuai through a doorway, entering a large kitchen with a small table in the middle. “Please, take a seat, let me make you a drink.”

“Thank you.” There really was no need, but then Kuai wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking around, he was possibly a little dehydrated. He took a seat, brushing his hair back and looking around the room. “So, um, is it just yourself and Hanzo here?”

“For now.” The tone sounded like he didn’t intend for it to be that way for much longer. “I have guests every so often, but they do not stay long.”

“I see.” He supposed this was a pretty isolated location, it would make sense that people didn’t travel here that often. “It’s a shame, your house is very beautiful.”

“Well, I’m so glad you think that,” Quan Chi chuckled, and when Kuai turned to watch him, he was pouring out a dark brown liquid from a teapot. “I do try to keep things in order.”

Quan Chi turned around, two cups in his hands as he approached the table and placed them down, one directly in front of Kuai Liang, and the other closer to the seat on the other side. As Quan Chi took his place, Kuai accepted the cup, bringing it to his lips and taking a quick sip of the tea. It was warm, perfect for a cold night such as this.

But, as the liquid crossed his tongue and travelled down his throat, a strange bitter aftertaste lingered. He tried to not be rude and let it show that he didn’t like that. Maybe it was just a type of tea he’d never drank before.

“Is everything okay?” Quan Chi asked, tilting his head slightly, eyes so fixated on Kuai that it felt like he was looking into his very soul.

“Ah, y-yes, it’s lovely, thank you,” Kuai claimed, before taking another bigger mouthful of the tea. Even with the weird aftertaste, he didn’t want to be rude to his host.

“I’m so glad you like it.” Quan Chi lent back, now sipping his own tea. His gaze never broke, he just continued to watch Kuai intently. “I do hope I will be able to make it for you again.”

“Oh.” Kuai wasn’t sure what to say about that. The reason he was even here was because his brothers had a job to do in the town. Once they were done, the three of them would be gone. “I’m afraid I’m just passing by this part of the world. My brothers and I will be leaving back to Earthrealm soon.”

“Are you?” Quan Chi gave a smug smile, once more licking his lips. “Are you certain about that?”

“Pretty sure,” Kuai muttered, confused by Quan Chi’s reaction and question. It was almost like he knew something Kuai didn’t. “I wanted to do some sightseeing while they worked, but once they’ve done their job, we’ll be gone.”

Quan Chi didn’t reply, just narrowed his eyes and continued to watch Kuai Liang with a strange air. Nerves began to overtake Kuai, the intense feeling he’d made a big mistake approaching this house. Another big sip of tea, and that damned aftertaste was really starting to bother him, it seemed to get stronger with every mouthful of drink.

Even so he finished it, placing the cup down on the table and pushing it away from him. When he looked up, Quan Chi looked almost pleased by it. Kuai may have been naive, as Bi-Han always liked to tell him, but even he could tell something was wrong here.

A wave of nausea suddenly overcame him, followed by him going lightheaded. He reached a hand up to his head, as if that would somehow help.

“Ah,” Quan Chi gasped. When Kuai looked up, he saw the other man pushing himself to stand and approach him. “I see my little addition to your tea is starting to take effect.”

“What?” Kuai questioned, going to stand only for the sudden movement to make him dizzy again. His eyes flicked over to his cup. A little addition. The bitter aftertaste made sense now. He looked up at Quan Chi, eyes wide as he towered over Kuai. “You- You drugged me.”

Quan Chi laughed, reaching a hand forward. Kuai tried to dodge his touch, but it just resulted in yet another dizzy spell. Every part of his body was starting to feel heavy, but especially his eyes.

“Drugged is such an ugly way to put it.” Kuai felt Quan Chi’s fingers dig into his chin, lifting his head up. “I prefer the term sleep spell.”

Lifting his arms, he tried to push himself away, only to lose his balance and fall forward. He was horrified to realise that he landed right in Quan Chi’s arms. He went to protest, but all that came out of his mouth was a pathetic whine.

“Easy, pet,” Quan Chi cooed in his ear. Kuai could barely keep his eyes open, they kept fluttering as he desperately tried to remain conscious. “Shh, that’s it. Stop fighting, just fall asleep now.”

As much as Kuai did not want to follow that command, he found himself unable to resist it. His eyes closed, body feeling completely boneless. The sound of Quan Chi’s laugh echoed through his head as his consciousness drifted off into the void.

He had no idea how long he was out for, just that when he woke up, his head felt like it was about to explode.

He groaned, curling up in a ball, and grabbing his forehead with his hands. He remembered exactly what happened the night before, Quan Chi and the tea. There was a fear of what he’d find if he opened his eyes. Would Quan Chi be standing over him, watching him sleep? Gods, fuck, would he be in bed with him? The thought made Kuai’s skin crawl.

He reached out a hand to feel around the bed, letting out a relieved sigh when he found he was alone. Something felt weird about what he was wearing though. At the very least, it felt like he was wearing very little compared to what he’d walked into the mansion with.

He finally chanced opening his eyes, thankful that they didn’t seem too sensitive to the light all things considered. Glancing down at his body, he couldn’t help but baulk at what he was wearing.

A pastel blue lacy nightgown that barely went below his hips.

He shot upright in an instant, looking down at the offending item. It wasn’t so much the nightgown itself he was concerned about, it was actually kind of pretty and in different circumstances he might have actually enjoyed wearing it. The point was, this nightgown wasn’t his, and it wasn’t what he was wearing when he arrived. Meaning someone, and he didn’t even need to guess who it might be, had undressed him. The only relief he had was that when he lifted the bottom up, he could see he was wearing his own underwear, meaning it was unlikely that what had happened was anything more than a clothing change.

A knock on the door caught his attention, and he held his breath as it swung open.

“Good morning, Kuai Liang,” Hanzo greeted, stepping forward as he did. Kuai wasn’t sure if he should be relieved that it was the servant rather than the master. “Quan Chi has requested I wake you.” Hanzo walked over to a set of dressers, placing down a pile of clothes. “These are your clothes.”

Kuai frowned, slipping out of the bed and walking over to the drawer. The clothes placed down on the drawer were definitely not the clothes he’d arrived in.

“These aren’t my clothes,” he announced, looking over at Hanzo, who just looked on with a strange indifference.

“They are now.” Hanzo shrugged, before turning back towards the door. “I will allow you to get dressed, and then escort you to the kitchen. Quan Chi is waiting for you.”

Without another word, Hanzo left the room, shutting the door behind him. Kuai returned his attention to the clothing. There were only two items really. A cheongsam similar to the ones his mother used to wear, in the same pastel blue as the nightgown, and silver detailing. Once again, it was beautiful, and in another circumstance he’d be honoured to wear something like this. But being given them by Quan Chi made him hate it on principle. The second item of clothing was a simple pair of underwear.

He slipped the nightgown off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. As much as he wished to refuse these clothes, he decided addressing Quan Chi wearing the cheongsam was preferable to addressing him wearing the nightgown. He threw off his underwear, quickly replacing it with the new pair. Even though he was alone in this room, he still felt like there was something watching him. Once that was done, he quickly threw the cheongsam over him, buttoning it into place.

He placed the discarded clothes on the top of the drawer, before turning to the door. He took a deep breath, desperately trying to keep his head held high. He opened the door, to find Hanzo lent back against the wall opposite. The second he saw Kuai, he straightened up, like he didn’t want to be seen slacking.

“Ready?” Hanzo questioned, stoic as he seemed to always be.

“As I’ll ever be,” Kuai muttered, following after Hanzo as he guided him through the house.

Neither of them spoke. Kuai had no idea what was going on, and had the feeling Hanzo wasn’t about to explain anything to him. In general he had nothing to say to the other man. Hanzo himself didn’t exactly seem like the talkative type. Although every so often, Kuai caught him giving a concerned glance. It made Kuai feel like he was being marched to his execution.

They entered the kitchen, Hanzo stepping aside slightly to allow Kuai to enter. After he did, the door shut behind him. Quan Chi was already sitting at the table, and once more he had that dark grin on his face.

“Ah, good morning, I do hope you slept well,” Quan Chi greeted, as if he was expecting a cheerful response. All Kuai did was glare at him, causing Quan Chi to begin chuckling, “oh, don’t give me that look, pet.” He gestured to the food before him on the table. “Especially after I made you breakfast.” He paused for a moment. “Well, technically, Hanzo made it, but I supervised.”

“Why the hell would I eat anything you give me after last night?” Kuai snarled, hugging himself like that would somehow hide him from Quan Chi’s gaze.

“Because if you do, I’ll explain exactly what is going on here,” Quan Chi offered, patting the table as if that would encourage Kuai to sit down.

Despite everything telling him to run, he did want answers. Carefully he made his way to the empty seat, sitting down and staring at the food in front of him. It was mostly things like hams and cheese, some fruit as well. His stomach rumbled, and against his better judgement he reached for an apple and took a bite.

“Tell me everything,” Kuai demanded between bites, hoping the fact he was eating something would prompt Quan Chi to talk.

“Where to start?” Quan Chi looked mockingly thoughtful for a few seconds. “I guess, I should start with who, or rather, what I am.” He lent over the table. “Tell me, pet, have you ever met a demon before?”

Kuai Liang understood the implication of that. He had never met a demon, before now that is. He had read a lot about them in the books in Father’s library. There were different kinds, and depending on what sort Quan Chi was, Kuai Liang could be in far more danger than he anticipated.

“I’m taking that as a no,” Quan Chi interrupted Kuai’s thoughts as they both continued to stare at each other.

“No. But I have read about your kind.” Kuai placed the apple down, his appetite finally gone. “What classification are you?”

Quan Chi chuckled, “it seems you have done your research, haven’t you?” He lent across the table, pushing the apple back towards Kuai, a silent order to keep eating. “I am a high demon. What do you know about them?”

“That as the name suggests, you are the highest class of demon.” He took the apple in his hands. “Which means if you wanted me dead, I would be by now. You need me alive for some reason.”

“As a high demon, I feed off the magic energy of others.” There had been some brief mentions of that in the books, they never really went into detail on what that actually meant however. “I have been looking for a new feeder for a long time, and oh so lucky for me that a pretty little elf shows up on my doorstep, practically giving himself to me.” Quan Chi was licking his lips again, and now Kuai understood the way he was being looked at. Eyes full of hunger and Kuai Liang was a four course meal. “Elves make the best feeders, with your natural affinity to magic your energy refills quicker than any other species. Makes you perfect to keep and feed off of.”

Kuai scoffed, “If you think I will stay here, you are more delusional than I thought.”

“Oh, I don’t just think you’ll stay,” Quan Chi started, reaching to run a finger under Kuai’s chin, “I know you will.”

Kuai slapped his hand away, although Quan Chi barely reacted to the action. I need to leave. Kuai pushed himself away from the table, standing as quickly as he could and rushing towards the door.

“Oh, are you trying to leave?” Quan Chi taunted, like he didn’t think Kuai would or even could. “Please, do try. Be my guest.”

Kuai didn’t have to be told twice, he threw open the door. Slamming it behind him, he summoned ice to freeze over and hopefully slow down Quan Chi’s pursuit. He ran through the corridor, using the various nicknacks he’d noticed yesterday to help him find his way back to the entrance hall. The front door was within his grasp. He grabbed the door knob, swinging it open and went to step outside.

Suddenly, he felt something form around his wrists and throat, and roughly yanked him backwards.

He fell back onto his knees, desperately looking down to figure out what had got him. There were green glowing cuffs around his wrists and a collar around his neck, all three attached to chains to help keep him restrained.

“Ah, excellent! It worked exactly as I wanted it to.”

Kuai felt himself being pulled across the floor, away from his escape. The door slammed shut before him as if to emphasise the point. He was lifted to his feet, arms still restrained behind his back as he was spun to be face to face with Quan Chi. Wrapping one arm behind Kuai’s back, Quan Chi pulled him close, while the other hand held on to the chains attached to the collar like it were a leash.

“I had a feeling you would not stay here willingly, so I took the precaution to take the choice away from you.” Quan Chi yanked on the chain, causing Kuai to yelp as they were pressed closer together. “A simple spell to keep you bound to this place. You cannot leave its walls so long as it is in effect.” Quan Chi tilted his head slightly. “Well, you can go out into the gardens, I am not so cruel as to completely cut off your access to the outside world.”

Panic was setting in as he squirmed in Quan Chi’s grasp. The demon pressed his hand against Kuai’s chest.

“Now, let’s see how you taste, shall we?”

Kuai gasped as he felt a sharp pain in his chest. Looking down, he could see a strange blue energy seeping out of him and into Quan Chi’s hand. As more came out, the pain grew worse, like something was slowly making its way through his veins and scraping everything contained within. He threw his head back and screamed, all while Quan Chi shushed and cooed at him, but the words didn’t mean anything to Kuai. His legs started to give way, and he unsure how much more he could take.

And then, suddenly, it all stopped. The pain went, and all Kuai was left with was exhaustion. He let his head slump forward again, watching as Quan Chi held up his hand, the blue energy fit inside. He brought it to his mouth, tongue swirling around it, before he began to inhale it. Kuai could only watch as the magic disappeared, and Quan Chi’s throat bobbed as he swallowed it all.

“Perfect,” Quan Chi growled, perverse satisfaction in his tone. “I knew you’d taste divine the moment I set eyes on you.”

Quan Chi suddenly let go, causing Kuai to fall back down onto the floor. The chains and cuffs disappeared, and Kuai immediately huddled himself. He’d only over exerted himself in terms of his powers a few times, but this fatigue was still familiar to him. He wouldn’t be able to use magic for at least a few hours, and he had the feeling that as soon as he was recharged, Quan Chi would be back to have another fill.

He heard footsteps coming towards him, and he screwed his eyes shut, refusing to look at his captor. He felt a hand caress his cheek, before grabbing his chin and tilting his face up. Still he kept his eyes firmly closed, right up until he felt a second hand jab into his ribs, a strange spark causing a short sharp pang. His eyes shot open, finding them looking into Quan Chi’s.

“I’m not a monster,” Quan Chi assured him, but from Kuai’s perspective those words were nothing but a lie to justify himself. “I can make your life here with me very comfortable, if you just behave yourself.” He released Kuai’s jaw, only to grab his hands instead and lift him until he was standing. “Make yourself at home, seeing as it’s also yours now.”

Quan Chi once more wrapped his arm around Kuai’s waist, the action as uncomfortable as it was originally, but Kuai didn’t have the energy to fight it. For now, all he could do was attempt to keep his dignity, not let Quan Chi get to him or see him cry. He could try and fight again once his energy had restored. Until then, he’d wait and observe, see if he could find a weakness.

He just had to remain calm and bide his time.

“Now, I do believe we were having breakfast,” Quan Chi continued in blissful ignorance, completely unaware of Kuai’s new resolve. “It’d be a shame to let Hanzo’s hard work go to waste, wouldn’t it?”

Kuai silently nodded, letting himself be guided towards the kitchen once again. Once he got a moment alone, he’d start trying to gather ideas for how to escape this situation.

Surprisingly, Quan Chi left Kuai alone to his own devices fairly quickly after he’d finished breakfast.

Maybe the spell that kept Kuai prisoner was enough to convince Quan Chi that there was no way for him to run away. Which was true, Kuai supposed, even if at some point he wanted to test the magic. He knew from experience that even the hardiest of spells had a weakness and loopholes. There had to be something he could do.

He’d wandered the entire mansion at this point, the winding corridors were confusing at first but he was slowly starting to understand the layout. Most of the rooms were unlocked and Quan Chi had stated he was free to use them as he pleased with very few exceptions. One was Quan Chi’s master bedroom, unless Kuai had been invited in by the demon himself. Hanzo’s room, which Kuai had no real interest in anyway. Then there was the basement. It was that one which concerned Kuai Liang, the way it had been brought up sounded like a threat. There was something bad down there, and Kuai had to hope not to piss Quan Chi off enough to see what it was.

He walked into the library, deciding this was likely the room that would become his main base of operations. It was a lot like the one Father used to have, so despite where he was, the room had a weird cosy nostalgic feeling to it that somewhat quelled his nerves. There was also a possibility there would be books here that shed some light on Kuai’s current situation.

The window looked down onto the garden, the only place Kuai had not yet gone to explore. Even though Quan Chi had said he could go out there, the morning’s events left him fearful of testing the boundaries. Maybe he’d try later, for now though, he was content to just observe it through the window.

It looked large and sprawling, surrounded by a very tall stone wall. Even if Kuai could find a way to climb over it, he had a feeling the spell would kick in to prevent his escape again. Although it did make him wonder just how the spell worked. It was likely it was almost akin to a forcefield, probably towering above the mansion itself to stop him from getting out through a second story window or indeed over the wall. Would it go as far as the roof? If he were able to climb up onto it and then get down? He would maybe have to test that.

Beyond the wall, he could see the forest. Funny, how only a few hours ago that was his biggest concern. He liked to think that Bi-Han and Tomas would realise he was missing fairly quickly, but would they find this place if they came looking? It had been dark when Kuai had stumbled upon it, so he couldn’t say for sure how easy it would be to spot in daylight. As much as he believed in his brothers, he couldn’t just assume they’d come to his rescue this time. He needed to be proactive.

“Kuai Liang.”

Kuai jumped at the sound of his name, twisting around to find Hanzo entering the library. He immediately tensed up. Hanzo technically hadn’t done anything to him, but he was still Quan Chi’s servant and seemed to follow his commands without question. It wasn’t too hard to believe he would follow any orders to harm Kuai Liang too. He could hope to maybe find an ally in Hanzo eventually, but he certainly would never be a friend.

“Would you like some lunch?” Hanzo asked, not moving from his place at the door.

“I’m not really hungry,” he replied quietly, before turning back to look out the window.

Behind him he heard a sigh, and heavy footsteps walking over. “I would feel more comfortable if you ate something.” A hand touched Kuai’s shoulder and he turned to look at the other man. His usual neutral expression was marred by the frown he wore. “If you refuse to eat, he will force feed you, and from what I have observed, that is extremely unpleasant.”

From what he knew, force feeding was indeed a dreadful experience, he didn’t dispute that. What confused him was the fact Hanzo was warning him of this, like he was trying to spare Kuai the consequences. He just couldn’t find the words to question Hanzo’s motive aloud. It seemed Hanzo understood Kuai’s distrust however, as eventually he closed his eyes and sighed.

“I understand that you do not trust me right now. You have no reason to.” Hanzo squeezed Kuai’s shoulder slightly. “If I had realised you were an elf when I opened the door, I would have shut it and not let you in so to spare you this fate.”

Kuai actually raised an eyebrow at that. “If that’s true you would help me escape.”

“I… I can’t,” Hanzo muttered, voice laced with regret. “You must understand, like he has you bound to this place, I am bound to him. I have no choice but to follow his orders regardless of if I want to or not.”

So. Kuai was not the only prisoner here after all. It seemed Hanzo was just as stuck. He did wonder what Hanzo meant about being bound to Quan Chi though. Kuai was seemingly bound to the house itself. If Quan Chi could bind someone directly to himself, why didn’t he do it with Kuai Liang?

“His orders in regard to you are to make sure you are fed and comfortable, and I will do what I can to keep to that.” He patted Kuai’s shoulder a couple of times. “I will try to keep you safe from the worst of him, but I won’t be able to protect you from everything.”

Kuai closed his eyes. He supposed, at the end of the day, this was about the best he could hope for in a situation like this. He reached up to place his hand over Hanzo’s. And when he reopened his eyes the other man was looking a little flustered by the gesture.

“Thank you,” Kuai whispered, running his fingers along Hanzo’s knuckles before finally letting go. As he did, Hanzo’s own hand finally retreated.

“With that in mind,” Hanzo said while taking a step backwards, “could I please make you some lunch?”

“Yes.” Kuai nodded in agreement. Even if he wasn’t too hungry, he really did not wish to be fed forcefully. “That would be nice, thank you.”

Hanzo bowed slightly to him, before gesturing to follow. Kuai took one more glance out towards the garden, before turning to trail along after Hanzo.

Quan Chi may have the power for now, but he’d misjudged Kuai Liang’s ability to be subborn and headstrong. And with a potental ally of some sort in Hanzo?

Kuai Liang would find a way to free them both from this hell.

#mortal kombat #subscorp #kuai liang #sub zero #scorpion #hanzo hasashi #🌓as we dance with the devil tonight

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tradgedyinwaves · 1 month ago

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First Choice - Part 1

Poly141! x fat!reader tw: self fat shaming, social anxiety, drinking, mention of male appendages at the end

This late Friday night found you where it always did. Alone after watching all of your pretty, skinny friends filter out into the crowd. The plush of your ass settled over the edges of the stool and you're grateful the bar is pretty dark, easier to hide. A glass of whiskey is being nursed in your hands while your eyes take in the crowd, effectively also checking on your friends.

As your eyes rove over, they settle on the back table, tucked into the corner and surrounded by four larger than normal men.

The one with the mohawk is the loudest by far, his boisterous Scottish brogue filtering over the sounds of the crowd. He's got a hand wrapped around a half finished bottle of beer while he loudly recounts a story that makes all of them groan like they've heard it a million times.

The dark skinned one had to be the prettiest man you'd ever seen. His long fingers danced along the side of a glass of what looked to be rum and coke. His chuckle made his shoulders shake, shaking his head at his comrade.

The one with the thick mustache was laughing along with the Scot's story, butting in with his own interjections when he had something to add. His meaty paw held a glass of bourbon while the other gestured a bit wildly with a lit cigar.

The one with the mask though. He had an almost full glass of whiskey in front of him, arms crossed over his chest as he scoffed at the Scot's story. He had been there and he knew that wasn't quite how it went. His eyes trailed from his buddies at the table, doing another sweep of the room. The fifth one you've watched him do tonight.

This time is different. His eyes meet your and you duck your head, avoiding the eye contact. You'd known (the way someone with social anxiety knows) that people would think you weird, making eye contact with strangers. It immediately signals your fight or flight response, settling on flight even though you weren't in any danger.

When you glanced back up, he was looking back at his friends, but you didn't know he'd smiled softly and was now bringing the rest of his tables' attention to you.

In your new panic, you paid your tab and headed out the door. So when Ghost finally got the others to look your way, your seat was empty and the bell was chiming over the door.

"You sure she was there, LT?" Soap asked, clapping the other man on the shoulder.

"Was right there, on the end. Prettiest bird I ever saw," Ghost grunted, his mask wrinkling with his nose.

"Thass m'friend yer talkin bout," a pretty blond slurred at them as she hung on to a frat boy type that was more interested in running his hands all over her body. "Come 'ere e'ry Friday, woo!" She was herded off by her cohort, giggling as they headed for the door. "Guess we'll be here next Friday too then."

You walked home in the chilly night, anger and resentment flooding through your veins. They'd never give you a chance, not with all the pretty girls that were in that bar. You'd always been looked over for girls more beautiful or thinner than you. What was the line they always fed you? 'I love your personality, but you're just not...my type.'

Suffice it to say, the four men would head back to their shared flat, fisting their cocks to just Ghost's description of you and fiending for the next Friday to come.

I promise I'm working on the Touch Fivesome. There's a lot of details and functionality that I'm trying to figure out.

I couldn't get this out of my head. Inspired by another post along a similar vein. I can't remember who it was now, but it's been festering.

Update: I found the inspiration. :3 @devil-in-hiding

Part Two ->

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ceruark · 2 months ago

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DANCE WITH THE DEVIL.

synopsis: yan! hsr men as slasher movie killers… and “love interests.” [blade, boothill, aventurine, sunday] words: 3.1k cw: yandere themes: obsession, stalking. slasher elements, gore. a/n: happy friday the 13th to all who celebrate

BLADE is already pretty much like Michael Myers from Halloween: large man, terrifying presence, unfathomable kill count, and cannot die. No matter what you do, no matter how many times you or the other survivors find a way to kill him, he keeps coming back, and with renewed vengeance every time.

The first time you’d been subjected to his knife was at a summer camp. Having gone there every summer for years growing up, you grew attached to the place and decided to pick up a role as a counselor in the summers following your high school graduation, and they passed peacefully. However, in the few months leading up to your college graduation, misfortune befell the small town where the camp was located. Someone’s grave had been dug up, and just weeks after that, people started turning up dead, their bodies littered with so many stab wounds that some were unrecognizable.

Given the ongoing investigation, the counselors and other camp staff requested that the summer camp not reopen, but the owners and even some parents insisted they stay open, and so despite your better judgment, you returned. You needed the money, and you knew how to defend yourself— if anything happened, you could keep yourself and your kids safe.

At least, that’s what you believed. When the man appears in the doorway of your cabin, his stocky figure silhouetted by the moonlight and leaving two red eyes gleaming down at you, you know there’s not a chance in hell you’re making it out of there alive.

You’d thrown yourself at him, yelling for your kids to escape through the back. He’s been merciless, sinking his knife into your flesh over and over again, but you persevered and fought back until you were sure every single one of your kids had made it a good distance away from the cabin. At some point you’d collapsed, from exhaustion and blood loss.

The doctors said it was a miracle you survived. They had your house guarded since he hadn’t been detained, but once word of his death by police gunfire got around, things calmed down significantly. You relaxed over the years, letting your guard down and believing that things could return to normal. Serial killings all over the nation popped up, but you worried not—after all, the killer you were concerned with was dead.

One of the survivors reached out to you five years after that fateful night, wishing to get together with the others who lived to get drinks and properly move on from everything. It was, of course, a set up; Blade had returned, and the man who invited you believed he’d be spared if he got the rest of the survivors together in one place.

He’d been the first one murdered that night.

Once again, you narrowly dodged death, just barely managing to get yourself to a hospital before you received one stab wound too many. Time goes on, and no matter how many times they put a bullet through his head, he manages to come back. The list of survivors has grown, but the list of victims is now countless.

You’re in your thirties when the police reach out to the adult survivors. There’s a new survivor: a five year-old girl by the name of Yunli. Her parents had been ruthlessly slaughtered, but he hadn’t touched even a single hair on the young girl’s hair. She didn’t have any living family, and so, you agreed to take her in.

Life is easier with Yunli in it. A bright, spunky little thing, she brings joy to your days and some semblance of a family that you’ve been too scared to seek out. It’s nice to have the sound of laughter filling your home.

That same laughter has you smiling tonight, the girl’s giggling floating down the hallway and into the kitchen, where you’re washing dishes. A quick glance at the microwave’s clock tells you it’s close to her bedtime, and she’s far more energetic than she typically would be at this time. You wipe your hands off on a dish towel and walk down the hall toward her room, wishing to find out what’s working her up at this hour and wanting to tell her to wind down before bed.

You knock lightly before turning the knob. You get the door open a crack before the sight on the other side of it leaves you frozen, horrified.

He’s in Yunli’s room, kneeling before her as she shows him the many dolls you’ve bought her. His knife is on the floor beside him, and the eyes that have haunted your dreams for years pierce into you, pinning you where you stand.

The girl seems… happier with you, than she had been with her parents. Perhaps he’ll have to be kinder to you this time.

BOOTHILL gives me Texas Chainsaw Massacre vibes in terms of how he kills and the brutality of it all, but not personality-wise. No, I actually think he’d be quite personable with that southern charm of his— so of course, no one would ever expect him to do anything unspeakable.

You and your friends are on a road trip when the car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. There’s nothing but fields of crops as far as the eye can see, and the only sign of civilization is a barn, some stables, and a few coops with two houses near them about a mile away from where you’re standing.

You all make the trek, hoping to be able to get some help from the people living there. Worst case scenario, if it’s all been abandoned, you can squat there and look for tools to help you fix the car. But to your surprise, when you knock, a kind-looking man with wild white and black hair opens the door, and after hearing about your situation, is more than happy to be of assistance.

He tows the car onto his property and takes a look at it, determining that the entire engine needs to be replaced. Given his distance from the nearest auto shop, he says he’ll leave for town Sunday afternoon and get the part on Monday morning. It’s going to be an all-day trip, so he likely won’t be back until early Tuesday morning.

You’ve got a couple days to get to know him, in the meantime. Your friends absolutely adore him, pointing out how good of a guy he is, some even pointing out how attractive he is. You scoff one night as he’s making dinner away from where you’re all sitting, as one of your friends starts a bet on if any of you will be able to sleep with him before all of this is over.

Sunday afternoon comes all too soon, though, and none of you get very far with him before he’s heading off in his truck toward the nearest town. You’re a bit shocked that he would so willingly leave a group of strangers in his house unattended, but you chalk it up to his kindness that seems to be boundless.

You should have been far more concerned.

You’re all woken up that night by the sound of a chainsaw revving, shortly followed by one of your friend’s horrible shrieking. The room devolves into panic and chaos as you watch her get torn to shreds by the very man who invited you into his home, now donning a mask of what you hope is animal skin.

You all flee in different directions, but he knows the property better than you do, and sure enough, your friends are picked off one by one until you’re the last one standing. You narrowly dodge some of the traps he’s set up and take refuge in the stables, struggling to keep yourself together as you hear your friend’s cries in the distance.

While looking for something to defend yourself with, you find a box hidden in a pile of hay. It’s locked, but you force it open, dumping its contents on the floor. A pistol, a few handwritten letters, and pictures of a woman and a young girl. You place the pistol beside you before your curiosity takes over, causing you to slowly go through and study the pictures.

In your distracted state, you failed to notice that he’d gotten into the stables. You jump to your feet when the chainsaw revs just a few feet in front of you. You turn off the safety and raise the gun, your hand steady and your shot clear.

He’s lost so much in his life, and it’s driven him to madness. And you, you remind him of something— someone precious who he lost to illness, to the cruelty of life.

He can’t lose you again. He won’t allow you to leave.

And that’s not something you’ll realize until he’s staring at you from the barrel of a gun you believe is loaded, laughing for a reason you can’t understand.

AVENTURINE stepped right out of a Scream movie. He’s a classic Ghostface-type killer, phone calls and everything. He’s certainly got the charisma needed to make the intimidating phone calls, and I feel like he would enjoy stalking and toying around with his prey a bit before going in for the kill.

You could probably argue that he’s not the type to want to make things messy, but I feel like in this case, he would be using this as an outlet, meaning all his kills are brutal and gory. (Creative, at times, too. The police will give him that.) There’s just something so comforting about being covered in blood, the warm liquid almost serving as a warm embrace.

For him, there aren’t any better targets than his close friend group. He knows all their darkest secrets, and has no problem using his knowledge to torment them and easily back them into a corner, too panicked to see him coming until it’s too late. These people have always been fake, anyway, and he knows they’ve always looked down on him. Can you really blame him for taking out the trash?

And then, of course, there’s you. You’re not a saint by any means— no, you’ve got your fair share of skeletons in the closet, and each secret you divulge to him because of the trust you foolishly placed in him is sweeter than any death he could imagine giving you. Maybe that’s what draws him to you so much; where everyone else wears a mask, there’s something about you that’s genuine, and it’s a side of you that you’ve entrusted to only him.

So when the killer finally shows up on your doorstep, he’s the one you turn to. As you’re on the phone with the killer, responding to his taunts in an attempt to figure out where exactly he is in your house, you’re texting Aventurine on the side and sending him what you believe is your last goodbye.

“Do you want to be forgiven?” The disguised voice on the other line croons into your ear. “Do you think you should be?”

You’ve just pressed send on your message when a hand seizes you by the back of the neck and throws you to the ground. The impact of hitting the hardwood floor distracts you from the sound of a phone buzzing nearby. You scramble backward, attempting to get to your feet as you do, but the masked man grabs onto your foot and sinks his knife into your calf, ripping a pained screech from your throat.

He drags you back toward him before settling on top of you, his legs straddling your waist rather suggestively. He sinks his blade into you and drags it across your skin slowly, the scorching pain leaving you writhing and crying out in pain.

He flees once he hears sirens in the distance. The police find you on the floor of your living room with four stab wounds and multiple cuts. Aventurine shows up not long after them, disheveled and worried and flashing the police the text you sent him. They allow him to ride in the ambulance with you, admiring his intent to endanger himself if it meant saving you.

You’re so frazzled that you don’t even notice he showed up at your house way sooner than he should’ve, as though he was already nearby. You just blindly turn to him for comfort, clutching onto him for dear life. It’s cute.

He runs his hands through your hair soothingly, shushing you and gently rubbing your back as you sob into his shoulder. You shouldn’t worry so much, dear. He’s here now, and he’ll make sure no one else lays a finger on you ever again.

You don’t realize your grave mistake until you’re standing in Jade’s basement, her brutalized body at your feet and a metal pipe in your hands. You can defend yourself all you like, but it’s far too easy for the masked killer to evade your swings and land his blade in your shoulder, your stomach, your thigh. All places that won’t kill you, of course.

When you finally collapse to your knees, sobbing hysterically and succumbing to your fate, the killer unexpectedly drops to his knees beside you. He wraps his arms around you and presses his chest to your back, trapping you in his hold. You shudder as he runs his blade along your face and neck, smearing your own blood across your soft skin.

“It’s okay,” he coos, and the familiar voice makes you freeze. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

The mocking laughter that follows makes your heart drop, and the rest of your hope vanishes.

SUNDAY is definitely involved in some Children of the Corn type of shit. Some supernatural slasher stuff where there’s a cult behind everything, and he’s at the head of it all.

Ena is not a kind god. Countless generations of Oaks have tried various methods of worship and offerings, but none work quite as well as the human sacrifice. This is something Mr. Wood had taught him from a very young age, explaining to Sunday their history as he methodically cut up whichever poor soul had wandered into their humble, hidden town that week.

As head of the Family, he’s exemplary. No one has ever wielded a blade quite like he has, his hand always steady and unflinching. His blessed hands bring prosperity to the land that has never been seen before, Ena’s favor raining down on him and his people. He is as revered as their god at this point, and there is nothing his people would not do for him.

The road trip you make every year to your parent’s house for Thanksgiving was a long one, and a sudden downpour along the way has you rolling to a stop in the nearest town. You plan to just take shelter at a restaurant and grab a bite to eat while you’re there, then fill up on gas and be on your merry way once everything clears up.

Everyone is so kind, though. The locals in the restaurant make conversation with you, asking about your life and cooing at you once you explain that you’re on your way to visit your family. You spend most of your time talking to the people at the table next to you, a man and his sister, and you get so lost in conversation that you haven’t even realized night has fallen. You pay your bill and are ready to head out when the man stops you.

“You should stay the night at one of the inns,” he advises, a delicate hand placed on your shoulder. “There are still storm clouds, and it could start pouring again at any moment. It would be unfortunate to have to travel through that, especially at night.”

You check the forecast, and to your dismay, he’s right. With his help, you check into a hotel across the street, and you thank him for his assistance before you turn in for the night.

Your peaceful sleep is soon disrupted by a rag being held over your mouth and nose, startling you awake. At this point, you’ve already breathed in the chloroform, and you barely have time to register the formless figures around your bed dressed in shades of white and navy blue before you pass out.

You wake up in an underground cellar, stone walls encasing you in cold nothingness. There are four other people in the room with you, also bound and gagged and staring back at you with wide-eyed terror. There are screams of pain echoing down the stairs from somewhere above you all, the sound of synchronized chanting doing little to mask it.

It’s not difficult to guess what fate awaits you.

Young children dressed in extremely formal clothing bring you all food and water. They’re sweet to you all, terribly so. You’re not sure how long you’re down there, but the time you have left is counted down with each person that is taken out of the room. There are new people brought into the cellar, but once the original four you were with are gone, you know your time has come.

The next time the shapeless people in robes descend the steps, they reach for you. You’re injected with some kind of sedative before you even have the chance to lash out at them, and the blindfold they place over your eyes seems pointless, since you black out, anyways.

When you wake, your arms and legs are bound to some kind of marble slab that you’ve been laid on. You’ve been stripped, and your skin is covered in some kind of oil. It’s cold, and the vulnerability of being exposed just makes your situation all the worse.

Your breath hitches and your pitiful, muffled cries for help stop when you feel something sharp prick your skin. Sunday lightly applies pressure to the knife in his hand, carving beautiful patterns along the surface of your skin. With his free hand, he traces a gloved finger over the beads of blood the blade leaves behind, his touch so devout it’s downright sinful. The sight of you brings him pause, the knife stopping all too suddenly.

It is the first time he has hesitated during a ritual.

Perhaps… you’re not meant to be sacrificed. No, surely something as divine as you is meant for much more than that. Perhaps Ena has lured you here just for him, a reward for his unwavering faith, steady leadership, and all he has done for their people.

“As the highest among us,” Mr. Wood had said the day he named Sunday the new head of the Family, “you have first pick at reaping Ena’s blessings.”

Ena is not a kind god. But perhaps, just this once, they would allow him to be selfish.

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