#The Joy of Violent Movement

[vivmaek]

SOLAR RETURN OBSERVATIONS: PT.III

SOLAR RETURN OBSERVATIONS PT. I

SOLAR RETURN OBSERVATIONS PT. II

✰ my masterlist

✺ Sun in the 12th House ✺ You might feel especially drained during this year. It's going to be hard to wake up everyday, your body and soul need rest. Maintaining a positive attitude is going to be difficult, life may feel overwhelming and you’ll feel as though you don’t have the strength to take it all on. But, trust that you do. This SR placement makes me think of a specific quote, “In the depths of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” (Albert Camus)

✺ Venus Opposite Saturn ✺ All of your insecurities are going to be heightened. This might be a lonely year for you, there won’t be many social events. Do everything you can to avoid financial debt, and if you have any, put all of your best effort into paying it off.

✺ Jupiter in 7th House ✺ The partners in your life will serve as a great source of joy, and you’ll have luck in companionship. These relationships will make you feel safe, and it would be a good year to get married. If single, you might begin a relationship with a foreigner or could meet a future spouse while traveling! The dating scene won’t be difficult to navigate, you’ll have many options to choose from. Business negotiations and legal matters will run smoothly. Have fun with this time and don’t be afraid to chase after opportunities.

✺ Moon in 1st House ✺ Your personal needs are going to become a priority. You’ll feel sensitive and your self-esteem might take a hit. Whatever emotional experience you’re going through will be apparent to other people, and this will make you feel vulnerable. These uncomfortable experiences will help you work on your insecurities and you’ll grow to become more comfortable with yourself. The SR Moon sign will highlight specific emotional encounters you’ll face this year. If it’s an earth sign, you’ll be focused on practical needs. If it's a fire sign, you’ll deal with feelings of anger and might have a chaotic emotional landscape. An air sign might make you feel disconnected from your emotions, and you might spend the entire year crying with a water sign.

✺ Saturn Trine Ascendant ✺ You will mature greatly over the course of this year. Heavy responsibilities will be placed upon you, but you will rise to the occasion. Your commitments and goals take priority and become central to your personality.

✺ Mars in 8th House ✺ If you’ve encountered violent trauma within the past, you’ll begin to heal and transform these wounds. You might encounter people or situations that remind you of these past events, and it can be jarring. However, you’ll feel stronger than ever and will take back your personal power. You will put a lot of energy into transforming your own psyche and are ready to go to war. This type of healing is not a quiet, peaceful process. A lot of rage and anger will become unleashed, but these emotions must be embraced and fully felt. You’ll find emotional release through physical movement, such as sex or high intensity exercise.

✺ Jupiter Square Saturn ✺ If you’ve been battling addictions, they may come to an end during this year. This will be a difficult transition and a very painful process. Long held beliefs and ideas are being restructured for your benefit. You might not have enough money to buy all the luxuries that you desire, facing financial hardship is another possibility.

✺ Taurus 7th House ✺ Down-to-earth people will be attracted to you this year and they will offer you a sense of stability. You will experience many romantic moments with your partner, these situations will feel effortless. Your natural beauty will be heightened.

✺ Mercury in the 1st House ✺ The downside to this SR placement is a heightened sense of anxiety and restlessness. Your thoughts will be moving faster than ever. However, you might find yourself more comfortable with communicating your thoughts and social exchanges will run smoothly. You might find yourself posting a lot more on social media and interacting with people you normally wouldn’t. You’ll learn a lot throughout this year, but these lessons will be humorous and light-hearted.

✺ Saturn Square MC ✺ You will have to take on extra responsibilities and burdens. All of your focus will be directed towards career progress. You might be under a lot of pressure and obstacles will stand in the way of success. Your sense of dedication is being tested.

✺ Pluto in 3rd House ✺ Watch out for gossip during this year! You’ll learn about the true power of words. Confidential information may come forward, or you might have to deal with information that's been manipulated. Power struggles will showcase themselves through conversation and psychological games will be played. You could find yourself obsessively thinking over a particular issue and it might begin to rule over your life. Your relationships with your siblings will undergo a transformation. There might be a lot of construction within your surrounding neighborhood, it will be loud and disruptive and might force you to change your route to work/school.

✺ Venus Square Jupiter ✺ Having different values and beliefs can serve as a source of conflict within relationships. You might have a generous partner, but they don't quite understand what you want or need.

✺ Venus in the 12th House ✺ You may be faced with financial insecurity. If you're looking for a job, it will be a struggle to find one, especially one that will pay the wages you deserve. However, the emotional strain that occurs due to this will not be all-consuming. This uncertainty will force you to focus on the spiritual aspects of life, and you’ll feel somewhat detached. Protecting your sense of peace will be a priority. This year will be somewhat isolating and you won’t be attending too many social gatherings. You might find it difficult to show other people affection.

✺ Neptune in 4th House ✺ You may want to move residences, but confusion and delays will follow suit. A friend or family member in need might crash at your house for an unknown amount of time. An elderly family member might move in, and you’ll have to take care of them or figure out other living arrangements.

✺ Venus in 10th House ✺ You’ll find a lot of success within your career this year. You’ll be a favorite amongst authority figures and will build up a good social network within the professional world. You might start dating a colleague, or you could befriend one. You might fall in love with your job.

✺ Saturn in the 6th House ✺ Responsibilities are going to be hitting you hard this year, they’ll be unavoidable. You may feel incredibly limited within your day to day life and this will leave you feeling frustrated. Superiors at work might become a domineering presence within your life. All work, no play. Your rewards for these efforts will be delayed, and you might not receive proper compensation. Bad health habits will catch up with you, make sure to take care of yourself.

✺ Neptune in the 7th House ✺ You’ll feel very unsure about where a particular partnership is headed. The boundaries are unclear, and you’ll find yourself giving into wishful thinking. Oftentimes if something is too good to be true, it usually is. You might be willing to sacrifice certain aspects of your life so you can be with this person. Try to let go and let things play out naturally. Don’t get too emotionally invested if you’re dealing with a casual relationship. These connections feel spiritual and a certain amount of glamor will be present. Even if negative experiences occur, you can use these lessons to heal.

✺ Gemini 10th House ✺ If you're looking for a job, going into sales might be your best bet. You’ll find yourself socializing a lot at work, and might even have fun. Answering phone calls and responding to emails becomes important within your career. You could be the youngest person in your field, or you might gain a reputation for being immature. Internships or taking part in some sort of mentorship is a big possibility here.

✺ Pluto in the 5th House ✺ If you’ve been wanting to undergo a creative project, now would be the best time. You’ll feel an intense drive to master your craft and will feel dedicated and focused. There is also the possibility of encountering someone who you’re deeply attracted to. These love feelings will be all-consuming and you might feel obsessed. Your sex life will be fun, intense, and emotionally fulfilling. Take precaution, and watch out for pregnancy if that's something you’re trying to avoid. Romantic encounters could also serve as a major source of creative inspiration.

✺ Vesta in the 10th House ✺ You’ll have to nurture and tend to your career if you want to see success in this area. And this includes taking care of yourself. You’ll learn how to strike a balance between work and rest. Thinking about long term success will be a major theme for the year. Instead of chasing after risks and big moves, you’ll focus on small actions that have the ability to take you far. It's time to dedicate yourself fully to your professional life, but you don’t want to lose sight of who you are in the process.

✺ Scorpio Ascendant ✺ You’ll undergo an emotional + psychological transformation and this will become especially apparent in your personality and appearance. People who have known you your entire life might not recognize you by the end of the year. This can be disruptive, and you might find that certain relationships that were once deep, don’t serve you anymore.

✺ Aries 6th House ✺ Your day to day life will be filled with energy. You might have to pick up a busier schedule at work, but you’ll take it on with an aggressive attitude. Accepting defeat is not an option this year, your habits and routines will reflect this. This will be a healthy year for you, but if you get sick you might run the risk of running a high fever.

✺ Aquarius 6th House ✺ Your daily routines are going to look very different in comparison to last year. Your intellect will serve as a source of strength, and you might have to deal with new computer programs at work. Buying a new phone or computer is another possibility, some form of technology that is used within daily life. You could feel different or might even become outcasted at work due to a rebellious attitude.

✺ Libra 2nd House ✺ This will be a good year for money and income. Your sense of self-worth will increase. However, the risk of tying up your self worth within another person is another possibility. If you’re in a relationship, or begin one, this person will have many material gifts to give you.

[funnyexel]

it's the stalker.

he was entranced.

by you.

the way your breasts moved freely under your shirt as you fumbled with your curtains after experiencing a brief moment of eye contact. It was heaven. he felt like he died ascended and descended all in a matter of seconds. he couldn't ask for more in the moment. seeing your irises widen then focus on his distant figure, in a split of fear.

but you.

you were alarmed. alarmed by the staring of a random man. you hastily undid your curtains and shut them as fast as you could. quickly your body took you to your door and make sure you locked it. you took a much needed breath but that didn't stop your chest from violently moving up and down. your heart pounding in your ears as you leaned against the door briefly before leaving to go back to what you were previously doing.

you thought that eye contact was bad. but it got worse. you didn't think when bags and bags of things kept showing up to your door. at first small packages that you mindlessly brought inside your home, then, undisguised bags of luxury items and items you wanted but wouldn't buy just as yet. you were warned not to open them but you couldn't help but peek.

and they were real. actual items in the bags and you had to check. something in you told you that this couldn't be real. but it surely was.

you still didn't open or wear a thing. it infuriated him. he didn't buy you these things for them to collect dust. but, besides this, he needs to see you. he's aching for you. so he does.

there you were obliviously window shopping because he knows you're too goddamn responsible to buy the things you want. he watched as you paced up and down the isle. analyzing the clothing and silently cursing to yourself when you check the tag. it made his chest rumble from a quiet chuckle. those leggings you wore hugged your body and infatuated your hips to give you a delicious figure.

oh

you bent over to pick up a shirt you knocked it off the hanger and he got the perfect view of your ass. the movement itself was quick and ridded with embarrassment from making something fall. but it still made his trousers annoyingly tight as he gazed at you.

he couldn't hold himself back anymore. he walked into the store. knowing exactly where you were as he walked in nonchalantly. he seemed confident to anyone around, but inside, he was just trembling. he was turning into where you clearly were but you were leaving at the same time, your shoulder nearly brushed against his as you pasted each other. he could feel the heat of your body past him and he could smell the sweet scent of vanilla coming off your person and he nearly rolled his eyes back.

you were too much for his own good.

and just like that you walked out the door like he was nobody. but he knew you felt it, felt that spark when you glided by one another. it was an electric surge and he couldn't rid it from his body. this lead him to pick up everything that caught your eye in the store and buy it.

he was an irresponsible child when it came to you and materialistic things, but he could care less. money comes and goes, he thought. and you are one in a lifetime for him.

he was nervous around you, popping up at places you least expected it and getting ignored by you only fueled his efforts. and he benefited from it. he talked to you.

he talked to you.

it was brief, like every other interaction you had, but it was an everlasting moment in his mind. you bumped into him this time. oh, how much joy he felt when your warm body clashed with his. it even took you a second longer to detach from him than it would a normal person. you were all over him and he knew it.

you politely said excuse me and stared into his eyes. he couldn't even blink, afraid he would miss a single moment in your presence. he imagined you looking back at him when you walked away and even fantasized that there was a smile on your face but who could even be so sure?

him?

not when he was laying down and imagining you were watching him, just as he was stalking watching you. one hand slithering under his boxers to palm himself while the other held his chest. right where you bumped into him. he contemplated never taking off the sweater, let alone washing it. but that had no space in his mind now. it was too busy thinking of you and your alluring scent.

stroking himself to you alone, he could imagine your warmth against him. your mouth, your tits and of course that hole. any one he wanted. because he knew what he meant to you. he was your prize, just as you were his. he had to work for you and you had to work for him. if that means he has to spend nights just aching and pleading for you, then so be it. he needs you. he needs you so bad it can kill him.

and when the time is right, he will come and see you.

he will break those pathetic petty locks of yours and enter your room. he will peel back those layers of sheets you use to cover that lovely body, and his fingers will run down your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. he will hook his fingers on your skimpy underwear and pull them down to your ankles.

and he will fuck you.

some more stories

a/n: inspired by a dream and no. I cannot elaborate.

[thesilmarillionblog]

HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DEMON

Summary: Dean is consumed by darkness, and your body is consumed by his. He wants you to realize that his new self is superior and demands that you enjoy his demon form.

Pairing: Demon Dean / F! Reader

Warnings: +18! (Minors DNI), SMUT!!!, angst, hurt, rough demon dean, demon has a praise kink, unprotected sex, somno kink!, naive and smart reader, fluff in the end, angst with happy ending

Word Count: 4206

A/N: English is not my first language.

It felt so lovely to feel the rough hands on your skin and hips after a long night of sleep. Though Dean had returned at last, you were too exhausted to speak up. All you could hear was him calling out to you; you were unable to respond. All you wanted was for him to touch you softly because you enjoyed it a lot and his touches would help you go to sleep.

He was taking off his jeans and t-shirt. You could hear it. You mumbled to him to come by your side already, as you smiled sleepily, hoping that he would crawl next to you and take you in his arms. However, as sleep overtook your body and mind, the words you were speaking vanished on the air.

Dean moved onto you and used an aggressive movement to shove the covers off your thighs and up your nightie. Your body froze, shivering. His hardness was palpable behind you, poking your back as though to rouse you from slumber. 

You cried in agony as he tore off your underwear without uttering a word; the abrupt motion of the torn lace burned your flesh. He extended your legs wide as you kept murmuring his name to let him know that he should be acting more gently, as he usually did. He took himself in hand, grunting like a beast, his cock cold behind you. It had been a while since you had sex.

While he was getting ready to fuck you from behind, you were exhausted. You meant to offer him an opportunity to sleep tonight and give him everything he needed in the morning, but it seemed as though you had forgotten how to talk when you spoke. You were just too tired.

You whimpered in pain as Dean was inside of you with a single, violent push. But when you heard him sigh with pleasure like he was an animal, you remained silent. You decided to give him what he needed because of this.

As his hands tightly grabbed your thighs, you heard him nearly laugh with joy. “Now that's a good warm cunt,” he said. You were unable to stop moaning in pain once more. 

You managed to say, "Baby, slow down,” with your eyes closed. You made an effort to ignore the ache in your legs and return to sleep. While there was pleasure as well, it hurt to see how quickly and without warning he started to fuck you like he didn't care how you felt. It was the first time he had shown such self-centeredness. 

He growled fiercely, “Shut the fuck up,” as he continued to slam your pussy from behind and tightened his grasp on both of your hips to get your body beneath him in a more proper position. His balls and hips slamming into your pussy was creating wet and obscene noises, and now your ass was in the air; they were bruised under his merciless hands.

You were worried about his reaction. Dean didn't seem like himself. You predicted that perhaps something had irritated him or gotten under his skin, and he felt comfortable enough to use your body in this way to calm himself down. Nevertheless, despite all that occurred in his life, Dean was always kind to you and never did anything to cause you pain. Especially not when you had sex. 

Your fingers firmly gripped the sheets, and your eyes welled up with tears as Dean continued using your body as he liked it. “Take it. That's how you should get fucked. Are you crying already?” He chuckled, becoming even more thrilled at hearing your whimper. “I'm going to fuck your little whimpering pussy like this from now on.”

You said, “Dean, baby, slow down,” as your body fluctuated between pleasure and pain. “I can't take it.” 

“You're taking it good right now, so shut up,” he firmly said, pressing your head against the blankets and collecting your hair in his palm. He was just keeping your head still; it wasn't like he was trying to choke you. You were powerless against his unusual strength.

Rather than engaging in conflict with him and escalating his rage, you chose to lose yourself in the pleasure he was offering in between the pain that he caused. He focused on the way his thick cock moved into you; it slipped easily inside you. He was quickly and brutally pounding it within your pussy. You let out a cry of delight when he found your most sensitive spot. 

“Oh fuck, yes!” As Dean used all of his power to fuck your throbbing pussy and restrain you from moving, it began to feel nice. You needed him to take his hands off of your hips because the pain started to hit hard. But there was enough pleasure in the way he squeezed your hips and smashed his cock inside of you to make your walls contract around his hard.

You could hear him groan with satisfaction. You attempted to give his body what it needed at this moment, sensing that he just wanted to be tough right now. You could discuss the issue tomorrow, whatever it was. After all, he was dealing with far too many awful things, and you wanted to support him up the same way his tender side lightened you in other days.

You screamed out his name as your walls clenched around him and your climax finally hit. He released his hold on your hair and placed his hand next to your head on the bed. You placed your lips on his wrist to quiet your moans and show him how much you cared about him and loved him; you wanted him to know that you understood him. 

He slowed down for a moment, but not before looking for his own pleasure. He needed to come. 

You mumbled, “Please, come inside, Dean,” hoping that would help him. 

He laughed and said, “You want me to come inside?” before fucking you raw once again. 

“Yes, please,” you whimpered. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to bear the way he wrecked your skin as your orgasm faded, and he continued to torment you by hitting your most sensitive spot. 

“Quit behaving like a whiny bitch. Going to fill you full. Fuck. Do you want it inside?” Squeezing your hips so tight that your tears dropped to the covers, and he nearly yelled, “Take it then!”

He kept filling you with your hot seed, and no matter how hard you struggled to get free, each time he used his power to show that there was nowhere for you to go. This time, as soon as he gave your hurt ass a very hard spank, you couldn't hold back your tears. In addition to the pleasure, there was also an immense deal of pain. As you waited for him to release himself inside of you, your legs shaken. At least you were on the pill.

Your body was still shaking from pleasure and stress as he pulled out his cock with a rough move and dropped to your side with a loud, satisfied grunt. It was the first time Dean treated you in this manner. You were emotionally wrecked by the way he treated you since he was always so compassionate and gentle. You felt everything except for his love for you. 

Dean laughed out loud, taking a deep breath as his whole body shook with ecstasy. The result was satisfying. The way you called out his name and then sobbed after made him extremely pleased, knowing that the body he was in was used to fuck you nice and slowly. That was the proper way to fuck you.

Finally, adjusting his messy hair on the bed, he murmured, “Stop fucking crying.” Now all he needed was sleep. 

After you had rolled over on the bed to face him and discuss whatever was bothering him, you were going to say something sharp, but you froze when the full dark, devil-like eyes that were ordering you to shut up. Gripping the t-shirt on your body as though you needed a place to hide, you held your breath in terror. You felt stuck there and wanted to get out of the room. You knew you should have called Sam or Cas at that point. The better option would be Cas. But you didn't know how he would react if you called someone.

When his eyes went green again, you said softly, “Dean?” but you knew then that he was someone else. When he suddenly started acting as if he wanted to kill you and fuck you at the same time, you should have known better. “What happened to you?”

He appeared unhappy with your inquiry as he rolled his eyes at you. “Just go back to sleep,” he snapped. “Should I mount you again? Aren't you worn out already?”

You muttered, attempting to figure out what was wrong and what he had done to himself. “I don't understand,” you said. You knew just that he wasn't himself and that you desperately wanted him back.

Thinking quickly, you realized that if you had moved to avoid him, or even worse, if you had attempted to contact Cas or Sam, he could have seriously injured you. Thus, reluctantly, in spite of all the aches and bruises on your body, you place your shaking hands on his chest. Although you were bodily in pain, your heart was hurting more because you knew Dean was turned into a kind of demon. You felt lonely.

As soon as you put your hand on his chest out of fear, you believed there could be a way to reach out to him and at least make him act nicer. This time, your eyes were filled with fear and anxiety that if you didn't behave the way he wanted, he may truly hurt you. 

You said, trembling uncontrollably, “Are we okay?” 

You felt vulnerable, even with his come still dripping between your legs, but at least his t-shirt covered your legs, which were trembling from terror and cold. 

“Why are you talking so much? Did I not tell you to go to sleep? I’m fucking tired of your questions,” He said furiously. You nearly withdrew your hand to yourself when he spoke to you and gave you such a piercing look, but instead you drew nearer to him and carefully laid your body on his lap because you wanted to feel him. You moved a little hesitantly, but he didn't stop you.

You said, your voice trembling with sorrow, “Why did you hurt me?” You hoped he would understand you while your hands lingered around his tattoo.

“Hurt you?” he said, laughing aloud as he raised your t-shirt to reveal your painful pussy to his body. He stopped you by your hips as you tried to get away from his grip out of panic. “Does your handsome Dean give you tender, sweet fuck? It's not a decent fuck if he doesn't make you weep. Keep that in your little mind.” 

“I don't like this kind of animalistic sex. I hated it. It hurts all over now,” you complained, raising your voice a bit in the middle of it. You felt instant regret. “What did you to yourself?”

He sharply warned you, pressing his hands tighter on your skin. “Rise your voice to me again, and I'll break your legs,” he exclaimed. 

As you remained motionless and considered what to say, he let out a quick sigh and stared at your pussy eagerly. “Wasn't it good enough? Tell me that I'm superior to your soft-ass boyfriend. Tell me you liked the fuck I fucked you raw.”

“I didn't know you had a praise kink,” you muttered, attempting not to laugh out loud this time.

You quickly answered, “You're better,” as soon as his expression shifted and he gave you a look that implied he wanted to murder you. “I'm really satisfied though.”

He offered you a sly smile and looked pleased, even though it was evident that you were lying to him to calm him down. He grumbled, “Oh, yeah?” You stiffened up, feeling his hardness beneath you. “Did you like it when I used your body as I wanted while you cried for me to slow down?”

You still nod to him even if the comments wounded you and brought to memory how much he violated your body for his own pleasure. You needed him to trust you if you wanted to protect yourself from this. For this reason, you didn't attempt to run away from his harsh touch since you desperately wanted him back. Dean attempted to get you to bow down to him once again as his eyes went completely black, as if he wanted to show you what he had become, but you immediately resisted and moved on top of him. 

You knew he wasn't himself to listen to you just now, but you couldn't bear him like this again. There was no escape from his abuse. To resist him would only make things worse.

You begged, “Please.” If you told him you didn't want, you knew he wouldn't listen. “Let me...be on top this time. Please.” 

With your fingers caressing his thick neck and jaw, you continued to plead with him, thinking that at least if you were on top, you might make him torture you less. “Please, let me satisfy you.”

"All right, you greedy cunt.” He pulled off your t-shirt, threatening to "fuck you harder than before if I don't like it." He growled low. Your whole body shook from the cold weather. But the way he treated you and his actions caused the fright. He'd do as he told you, you knew. 

“I like it a lot.” You lie in spite of your distress because. You were so in need of Dean's return that you started crying. You also wanted his soft hands to calm you down.

He took himself in hand and positioned his aching cock in your entrance once more, and you climbed on top of him, whispering, "Okay," trying to ignore the pain.

He thrust himself in you, gripping your hips tightly, and you bit your lips until they bled, pushing back your moan. It was unbearable. “Do you like it?” he grinned and said. He was having fun watching you up there.

When you told him he was better, at least, he seemed to like it.

“It appears that you're mostly on top. Like he's the girl; he's so fucking weak and lazy. Pathetic.”

You remained silent and did your best not to talk about how much you like Dean's cute side and how much you enjoyed it when he treated you gently while the demon Dean was talking bullshit.

Rather than seeming submissive, you said, “It's nice to be at the top when you're tired.” Nevertheless, it wasn't. It was Dean's thoughtfulness that you found adorable. You were more pleased than anything by the sense of comfort he gave you. 

His body tensed as he yelled, “Do it better,” beginning to lose his sh*t already

Being so afraid and having him staring at you as if he may shatter your bones at any moment made it difficult to maintain composure.

Despite your pain, you fully took him and started riding him in the way that he preferred while gazing into his eyes with your teary ones

You placed your hands on his jaw and kissed him gently to let him know how much you cared and to feel connected to him no matter what. His body stiffened for a moment, and you could feel his confusion.

While he lay on the pillow and you kissed him, his hands gripped you tightly from your belly and began to pound into your pussy hard and fast. You continued to respond to his fierce kisses with kindness and softness to demonstrate your love, even though he was kissing you harshly and turning your lips red. 

You attempted to soothe him, to stop him from pounding into you like a dog in heat, by placing your hands on his. “Let me ride you, please.” You whimpered to get him to stop, fearing that his harsh touch would cause you to break down. “I want to satisfy you too, remember?”

“Fine!”

You moved very carefully on top of him, kissed every spot of his neck, and said, “You're better.” Than this. You didn't say anything to indicate that you needed him or that you weren't worried if he hurt you as long as he came back to you. Rather, you just moved on his cock and did your best to ignore your own suffering. 

He only grumbled, “Hmm,” and slightly relaxed his grip when he noticed your pace quickening. His hands squeezed your tits harshly, but then, unexpectedly, they began to feel a bit softer. Yes, he was definitely sleepy. 

“I want to satisfy you and make you happy, just like you do to me,” you sobbed into his ear as you could feel his cock throb and he was coming closer. 

You pleaded with him, “Please, Dean,” as you gave him a gentle kiss on his neck and face. “Please, come to me.”

He abruptly roared, “Stop talking!” and used his hard hands to put pressure on your hips. 

He began to moan in satisfaction as he pounded into you again, making you cry out in pain. Your most sensitive spots were being crashed by his pulsing cock, which made your aching walls clench him once more. You tried your best to stay focused, but the pain mainly overshadowed the pleasure. 

When at last you cried out in agony, “Please, Dean. I need to come around your cock too. Would you please loosen your hands a little? I'm so badly hurt that I'm not able to feel anything.”

Taking a deep breath, he angrily said, “You complain so much!” He was bored of your attitude. But once he saw you were having trouble performing at your best, his hands unexpectedly grew softer, and they rested on your back, as if he were making an effort not to pound into you hard again. “Come now or I'm going to get you on your knees right now.”

Fortunately, your orgasm hit again as you forced your body to experience the pleasure while you pretended nothing was wrong. You would be in hell otherwise. With a loud grunt, Dean joined you, his hands stilling your hips. Now that his head was resting on the cushion and your hands were pushing his chest while you yelled out, the manner he touched you was harmless enough. You bit your lip hard, praying he was exhausted enough to sleep while his white ropes painted your walls.

He said, “Get off of me now!” after he was done.

You murmured, “I'm cold,” as your body began to shiver. You felt exposed.

“And what do you want me to do about that? Go get dressed then.”

You picked up your belongings off the floor and informed him it was okay for him to say such awful things, affirming that he was superior to his soft side—a complete lie—while he went on to rant about how much you were whining like a bitch while putting on his clothes. You ignored him since all you wanted was for him to feel more at ease. Taking your phone as your heart was racing, you informed him you would take a shower, but he didn't seem to care since he was snoring immediately. 

As you were ready to pass away from panic, you contacted Sam and Cas to let them know everything that had transpired, including how Dean had gone insane and turned demonic. With trembling fingers, you were rapidly messaging them. When you told Cas, you were hoping he would arrive first. You quickly showered, and then you turned to the room before Dean could suspect and boost you. Once he realized exactly what you were doing, you knew he would fuck the shit out of you. 

You sighed with relief when you noticed Dean was sound asleep, and you passed the time on the bed just waiting for Cas to arrive. 

You stood between Sam and Cas, watching Dean, who was now strapped onto a chair and wearing handcuffs, stare at you as if he planned to murder you the moment he was free. Dean was about to depart when Cas showed up, but he was unable to make it. Thank goodness. 

"You're a dead woman, you stupid sneaky bitch," he glared at you and muttered. 

He emphasized the final phrase so strongly that you jumped and had to hide behind Cas to keep Demon Dean at bay as you gasped in fear. He hated you for betraying him and for preventing him from getting some sleep. 

“Still smarter than you,” Cas said harshly.

You raised your voice and yelled, “You can't do a shit to me.” You grew bold this time, thinking Cas would stop him if he tried to break free from the restraints. “Sam and Cas are going to help you.”

He yelled, “I should have broken your legs,” before you could even complete your statement.

“You should not have assumed that I would accept you this way in the first place.” As Cas closed his eyes as though he was done with both of your bullshit, Dean was losing himself in rage. “Save your energy, love,” you teased. “I'll be having great time with Dean and his very sweet soft side once Cas is done with you!”

“Lord,” Cas whispered as he slightly turned to look at how you hidden yourself behind him. You had gripped his coat with your fingertips as though you were a koala and he was the tree. Actually, you were willing to throw Cas as a sacrifice if Dean managed to get away. God forbid. 

You cling anxiously to his coat, but Cas eventually stops him before he loses his shit and threatens you with even worse things. Sam was massaging his head and done with his brother's mess. 

You watched with a heavy heart as Dean came back; the gloomy clouds that had fallen on him and you had vanished. When he realized what he had done to you and himself, his eyes became wide with fear. You could feel the shock and remorse he was feeling. After exchanging glances and confirming that there was no longer any cause for concern, Cas and Sam departed the room. Of course they would speak with Dean eventually, but not just now. At first, you were so terrified that you couldn't stop shaking, thinking that his demonic form would return and fulfill his vow.

Your despair revealed itself once again, and your eyes sparkled with relief and happiness. The longer you stared at him, the more his actions and words wounded you. Still, that was irrelevant now. As he stood up and watched you take off his chains and everything, Dean was trying to think of anything to say to make up for what he had done to you.

Now he stood in front of you, breathing deeply. You hugged him hard as soon as he opened his mouth to speak. Regaining his warmth and affection was all you needed; words or excuses weren't necessary. You needed to know and feel that you were safe now.

Your desperate embrace was instantly met with his hands drawing you nearer to him. 

You didn't want him to feel this way any longer, but he whispered, “I can't believe what I have done,” with embarrassment and sorrow. “God, I'm so sorry.”

You interrupted him with, “It's okay,” as you put your lips to his neck and smelled his hair. Everything was fine. “Just promise me that you are going to talk with me no matter what happens. Don't shut me out, Dean.” 

“I promise,” he sucked in a pained breath. His hands gripped your cheeks, forcing you to turn to face him. “I will never let this happen again. Never. I swear.”

You smiled at him with teary eyes and stated, “You better,” trying not to break down and worsen his feelings. “Demon Dean, your other form, vowed to the gods that he would kill me. He certainly meant it. In addition, he threatened to break my legs. I don't think he was joking.”

He kissed you tenderly and said, “It won't happen again,” as he started his regretful apologies. 

“We are going to be alright. I love you, Dean. Always remember this.” You removed his hand from your cheeks and gave his wounded palm an affectionate kiss. “Never forger this,” you said quietly. 

He held you tightly to his chest and murmured, “I won't. I love you. I will fix this, I swear.”

The pain he had brought about before vanished beneath his sincere and compassionate words. His arms wrapped firmly around you, giving you a sense of protection that erased the anxiety that he had caused. Although you knew it would take time for your body to recover, you knew your love was powerful enough to cure both of your hearts.

[bluessmutifyplaylist]

Separate Yandere Malleus (Hubby), Rook (Hubby), Leona (Lazy), Jamil (Babygirl), Azul (Babygirl), Jade (Menace), Floyd (Menace) and Sebek x Female!Tanjiro Reader SFW and NSFW please?

She’s kind, helpful and supportive, always willing to help others and she doesn’t expect anything in return? How cute (Naive), and after getting a taste of her kindness and care, he’s not going to let her go (And is now very territorial/protective of his soon-to-be wife/wifey)

Why can I see Floyd saying ‘Wifey’? (Rook would just make poems upon poems about how much he loves calling her his ‘Darling’ or ‘Wife’ and would violently tremble in joy if she just looks at him Top Tier Romantic/Stalker)

Sorry if that’s a lot, I’m a little knew to asking about Smut Requests (But I love my Twst Men so much, especially Malleus, Idia, Rook, Jamil and Azul, they just need hugs)

This is SMUT, and consensual, despite being Yandere.

Warnings: Yandere, Stockholm Syndrome(?), naive reader, creampie, breeding(?), unprotected sex, all characters are adults, sex with the intention of having children, slight dumbification, Malleus has 1 dick (sorry monsterfuckers), somnophilia in Malleus’s

Leona Kingscholar

You supported him even in his darkest moments, no matter if he was rude to you back. You were there, and the way you would take Cheka when he wasn’t feeling super great really had him appreciating you in a way that he never thought he could before. So, once you had graduated, he asked you if you would marry him.

Of course, this comes from a much darker place in him. He was never going to let you go, even if you refused him. Luckily for him, though, you were in tears as you accepted his proposal, happy to be marrying the love of your life. You were wed rather quickly, with it being a small ceremony, and it was the first time you had seen Leona cry because you just looked so beautiful walking down the aisle. That moment was one you would cherish forever. 

Now, your wedding night was a different story. With how hard he was thrusting up into you, making you see stars. You could feel his cock pounding your insides, and you were thanking every god in existence that you married this man. You were two orgasms in already, and you were approaching a third, while he still had his first to go.

“Look at you, my naive herbivore being fucked dumb.” Just hearing those words made you falter and stutter your movements, but it didn’t stop Leona. He was making you ride him through your orgasm, and you were so sensitive. He let out a groan as he came inside you, saying, “I’m not stopping until you are filled with my cubs, baby, so you better keep going.”

Azul Ashengrotto

He knew you were the one when he showed you his cecaelia form for the first time. Instead of being disgusted or even afraid, you used a gentle hand as you played with the tentacles that were pulling you closer and closer. Eventually, you found yourself face-to-face with the Housewarden, and you threw your arms around his neck as you pulled him into a kiss. He immediately reciprocated, and he laid claim to you that night.

Years later, you both were married, and he was a successful business owner. You were in the upper-middle class of the ocean, and you both were talking about starting a family. You were already his housewife, keeping the house clean because you both agreed on it (and because he didn’t want you going anywhere that he didn’t have control over). 

You weren’t about to complain, though, because he had you in the missionary position. It’s a bit basic, but fuck did it feel good. He was desperate; desperate to fill you up, desperate for you to feel pleasure, desperate to push himself to another climax despite the overstimulation. Your legs locked around him as he started releasing ropes of cum inside you, and you had the orgasm of your life.

“I love you, honey~” Your voice was strained after about two hours of moaning. He laid down next to you, and you laid your head on his chest. He started drawing patterns on your back, and he said I love you in return. You leaned up and gave him a kiss on the lips, and then trailed it down his chest… lower and lower, until round 2 was started.

Jade Leech

You were his the day you burst into Azul’s office and demanded that your friends be let go of their contracts. Hardly anybody would have that amount of confidence, and he found himself obsessed. He’s stalking you, he’s making sure his brother knows that you are his territory and his alone. You could always smell that he was there, as he didn’t know about your keen sense of smell. But, you didn’t mind it.

Years later, you both were married, and it was an interesting marriage. Your in-laws absolutely adored you, Floyd tolerated you, and Jade was still as obsessed with you as he was back in your NRC days. In fact, he wanted to give you a reason to stay forever, so he brought up the idea of having kids. You had many siblings back in your home world, which you never found a way back to, so it was understandable that you would want a big family yourself.

So, that’s how you got here, you being folded in half, your legs being pressed to your shoulders as he pounded you into oblivion. For the past 4 hours, you have been in every conceivable position you can think of, and this was going to be your final one. If you wanted a big family, that is exactly what you were going to get.

“Darling, how many kids do you want? Do you have an exact number? Or am I going to fuck you and keep you full of children until you say that you don’t want anymore?” Just the thought of having so many kids made you orgasm. You realized that you wanted to be with this man for the rest of your life, and you wanted to be surrounded by a family that the both of you created, and you were definitely going to enjoy the process to achieve your newfound dream.

Floyd Leech

He claimed you as his also the day you walked into Azul’s office, as no one ever had the courage, bravery, or stupidity to do it. When he went to squeeze you, you wound back enough to headbutt him, making him drop you. From that point on, you had become his new obsession. You were the only one who could beat him in a fight, so it was kind of obvious that this would happen.

As much as you Floyd simps would probably want to be married to him, he’s just not that big on marriage. He’s not that big on commitment in general. However, he knows that he’s committed to you because he wants you to be committed to him. Plus, any thoughts against marriage flew out the window when he saw you stretching and yawning.

Hours later, your neck was covered in bite marks, some a bit bloody, but he just licked it all away as his cock was buried inside your cunt. He had cum inside you about 2 times by now, and your muscles were sore from being contorted into a multitude of different positions. He had a newfound need to make you his little wifey who was stuffed with his kids 24/7.

It wasn’t until there was a bit of a bulge in your stomach from all the cum he had released when he pulled out of you. You were on the verge of unconsciousness, but you felt his arms wrap around you and pull you close. His body was warm, the final lull to sleep that you needed. It was a rare but sentimental Floyd, where he watched you, in such a vulnerable state… marriage is the best option to make sure you are his.

Jamil Viper

You were the first thing he could actually call ‘his’. He did not have to give you to Kalim, and he was never going to let that happen. In fact, during his overblot, he made his feelings known to you by keeping you at his side. However, you wanted your Jamil, not the one controlled and bound by the ink. After, in the infirmary, he asked if what you said still rang true, and that was where you had your first kiss.

Skip to years later, and you both were married. He still works for the Al-Asim family, but you couldn’t ask for a better husband. He has told you about his hesitancy towards having children of his own, as they would most likely serve the Al-Asim family as well. You understood, but you still wanted to have children with him. He told you that you could have one child for now, and see where it went from there.

Round 1 started right then and there, in your kitchen. He bent you over the counter, railing you from behind. Before, whenever you both would have sex, he would use protection. This time, though, he went in raw, and it was the first time ever that you both truly felt each other, and damn did it feel euphoric. You couldn’t even think anymore.

Of course, this was not exactly a fitting place if you were going to conceive your first child. So, he picked you up into his arms and carried you to your shared bedroom once you had your first orgasm of the night. There were many more to come (get it?) and you were barely getting started. You will not be able to walk for two days, and you will be walking out with hickies… mostly in between your thighs.

Rook Hunt

When he first discovered you, he immediately started stalking you. However, he wrote you sonnets, limericks, and poetry of other sorts for your eyes and ears. He sang your praises, and to lastly win over your heart, he serenaded you properly, under your window. You told him to wait there, and you ran downstairs and glomped him, making out with him on the ground. If it weren’t for his desire to make your first time special, you would have probably conceived a child right then and there.

However, he did wait until marriage… which was less than a year after you graduated. He had a steady income, and he already had a cottage in the forest in the Shaftlands. He always had a fantasy of a big family in a cottage, being a hunter and having his beloved wife by his side as an equal in the home. He cherished you, making sure that he provided for you in every way you needed. You became a housewife, as you would like to be there to take care of your children.

Speaking of, not a single night has passed since your wedding night where you haven’t fucked like rabbits. Sure, you both were still young, but you had been talking about this since you both were in NRC. You felt like you were ready to take on the challenge of rabbits. So, every night, you were filled with his cum. You were claimed as his, with all the hickies all over your body, with the sinful stretch his cock always seemed to give you… it was heaven in Twisted Wonderland.

It did not come as a surprise that you fell pregnant merely a few weeks after your wedding. The news made your beloved hunter so excited. Now, you could never leave him for your world. You had children that tied you to him. During your pregnancy, he is a devoted lover. He makes sure all your needs are met, and that includes the needs that are in the bedroom.

Malleus Draconia

You were his first friend outside of his retainers. You showed him kindness, and you were not scared of him at all. That alone made his draconic instincts want to kidnap you and keep you all to himself. However, he was able to hold off just a little, and you came to him on your own. The rose you had presented him with remains preserved, even years later, as it is a token of your love for him. He was a bit delulu, but aren’t we all?

It was a big request to ask you to marry him, as you would become the queen of a great nation of mostly fae folk. However, you were up to the challenge, and the people loved you. However, there was great pressure for an heir. Again, you were up to the challenge, but you discussed it with your husband first. You both concluded on a large family, so that the children wouldn’t grow up isolated (and totally not because Malleus wanted to see you round over and over again).

That night, all the staff had been advised to vacate the corridor in which your shared chambers resided, as you were not able to quiet yourself. You went a total of 8 rounds, one of which you were passed out for, but gave him the ‘okay’ to fuck you through that brief nap. Any chance of walking was out of the question. You could barely lift your head, and you had to be tended to by maidservants for a week. Unfortunately, Malleus couldn’t tend to you himself, as being the King meant that he was busy.

The entire realm rejoiced at the news of your pregnancy, and you had the world’s best doctors at your disposal. Everyone was concerned about making sure that the heir survived to take the throne, but they were also a tad worried about them being half-fae and half-human, as it meant that their lifespan would be shorter than a typical fae’s. Neither you nor your husband cared, however, as you were just happy to start a new chapter of your lives together.

Sebek Zigvolt

His pride denied him the pleasure of accepting his feelings for you in the first place, and he instead wrote anonymous poems for you that he would leave at your desk. You had no idea who it could be, so when someone claimed it was them, Sebek shouted that it was he who wrote the poems and not the plagiarist. He looked like he was about to fight the poor unfortunate soul, but you placed a kiss on his cheek, telling him that you accepted his feelings and not the other person’s.

About the topic of marriage… he would prioritize being a knight first. However, when he sees a time in his career, he will definitely get married to you. He enjoyed that he was in Briar Valley often and he just needed to train new recruits, and he would return home to you cooking dinner. As for children, the topic would blurt out of his mouth as you voiced your sadness about being lonely. You loved the idea, and as irresponsible as it was, the way you looked at him with newfound dreams in your eyes, he carried you to the bedroom and started right away.

You had discovered that Sebek had a hidden breeding kink, and he loved seeing your face as he came inside you over and over. The husband you thought you knew was giving into the primal instincts deep within him, and you were loving it. His fangs had made their mark all over your neck and shoulders, claiming you despite the ring on your finger showing you were taken.

The Zigvolt family, as well as Lilia, Silver, and King Malleus, were all excited when you announced your pregnancy. However, only the two of you would know what sinful things took place for this to happen. Know that this is not your only child, even if you don’t actually have another one. He wants at least two, and he is willing to adopt.

[heytheredelulu]

Unbreakable - The After Years

Follow up to Unbreakable, my Bucky Barnes x Reader fic.

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

C/W: Language, sexual references

You don’t get pregnant after that first time. You hadn’t been in your fertile window but were still disappointed with your negative test despite knowing it wouldn’t have been positive when you took it.

When your period came, Bucky brought you your favorite snacks, bought you a new fluffy blanket and a pack of ovulation tests that he gave to you with a tender kiss on the forehead.

The first time you got the smiley face on your ovulation test you nearly tackled him when he came through the door that evening, brandishing the test stick at him and peppering kisses on every bare inch of skin you could find.

He made love to you constantly, regardless of where you were in your cycle, just craving the intimacy of being raw inside you, of the feeling of his warm, thick cum spilling within you. He’d rut himself deep into you, kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock, desperate to be as far in you as he could physically be.

You knew you were pregnant before you even took the test. You’d been cooking dinner and Alpine had hopped onto the counter, craving a good ole head scratch and the idea of cat fur where you were plating your food sent you into a violent gagging fit.

You called Sarah, Sam’s sister and your best friend and she squealed so loud you nearly dropped your phone. She stayed on FaceTime with you while you anxiously took the test, not even needing to wait the full three minutes for the results because you had a blazing positive the moment your urine passed through the window. You made her promise not to speak a word of it to Sam before you had the chance to tell Bucky.

He could sense something was up the moment he got home. His enhanced senses followed your strange new scent into the living room and when his eyes met yours, he knew- he knew you were carrying his child. Tears brimmed his lower lids the second you stood up and he pulled you into a tight embrace, kissing you fiercely as he cried tears of joy.

Bucky was attentive and overly protective of you l you anyways and once you were pregnant he became over the top to say the least. He doted on you constantly, always asking, “Are you feeling okay, Angel?” “Have you eaten today?” “What can I get you?” Sam and Sarah always teased him, saying he would treat you as if you were made of glass.

He accompanied you to every appointment, his foot tapping anxiously before every ultrasound, his eyes wet with tears every time he had the opportunity to see the small little movements on the screen, every time he heard the fast paced thump thump thump of his baby’s heartbeat inside your womb.

The first time he felt her kick- his daughter- his flesh hand was resting affectionately against the swell of your abdomen, where it lay almost any chance he had. You’d been watching a movie, lounged on the couch together with Alpine curled in his lap. The tiny flutter against his palm drew a sharp gasp from his chest, his eyes wide as he whispered in a voice of disbelief, “Angel, I felt her. She’s kicking. She’s kicking, isn’t she?”

Bucky was the first to buy things for his baby girl. He constantly came home with outfits, bows and blankets, excitedly showing you what he’d picked out. Anytime a package arrive in the mail you knew it was something else he’d bought for your daughter, spending entirely too much time online shopping once he’d figured out how to navigate Amazon.

You’d painted the nursery together, laughing and teasing him once you’d finished and he began attempting to put together the crib. The instructions ended up crumpled in a ball as he wiped sweat off his forehead, motherfucking the pieces laid out on the floor in front of him. Once he’d finally conquered ‘the damn thing’ you kissed him deeply as you admired the nursery, the kiss quickly becoming gentle touches and heavy breathing until you made love on the soft carpeted floor. He took his time exploring every inch of your body, his thrusts careful, slow and sensual as if you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched.

Your water broke late in the evening, while he was drawing you a bath to soak your sore back and swollen ankles. Bucky raced around the house in a panic, passing the hospital bag several times while looking for it as you watched with an amused smirk. “Baby, take a breath.” You told him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Your labor was long and hours blurred together amidst the pain and anxiety but Bucky never left your side. He held your hand, pushed your hair off your forehead and whispered words of praise and encouragement against your ear as he kissed your temple. At one point he climbed into the bed with you, settling his powerful frame behind you as he drew you to his broad chest, holding you against him as you labored until it was time to push. Fortunately you didn’t have to push for long before the tiny cry echoed through the room, choked sobs of joy and relief bubbling up from your chest as you slumped back against your weeping husband.

Once you were comfortable, your small, perfect daughter resting against your chest, Bucky headed out into the waiting room with wet cheeks and a proud grin. “Winnifred. Winnifred Natasha Barnes.” He told Sam and Sarah as they stood up excitedly to hug him after having waited for hours for her arrival.

Winnie was a daddy’s girl and she had Bucky wrapped around her finger from the first moment he held her. She looked like you, with his blue eyes and his dark hair and you frequently argued playfully over whose nose she had. Named affectionately after his mother and your fallen friend and teammate, as she grew into her toddler years she definitely gave you both a run for your money as she perfectly emulated Natasha’s fiery personality.

Bucky couldn’t have been more wrong in his fear of being a father. He was the most attentive and loving dad you’d ever seen and you often found yourself lingering in the doorway at night, your heart swelling with love at the sight of the two of them curled up in the rocking chair after having fallen asleep mid bedtime story.

Bucky loved being a father so much that shortly after Winnie’s third birthday you were pregnant a second time. A boy, much to Bucky’s excitement. He would daydream about playing catch with him, teaching him how to fix up the motorcycle- all while he braided Winnie’s hair and chased her around the yard.

It wasn’t more than a year after Steven Samuel Barnes was born that you became pregnant for a third and final time. Your second son, Anthony ‘Tony’ James Barnes being the final and beautiful piece to complete the family you’d only ever dreamed of.

Winnie was the first to find out about who her dad used to be. She was 14 and had come home from school in tears over the cruel things a particular little shit of a classmate had told her. Before you sat her down to tell her everything, you had pulled Bucky into your bedroom, cupping his face with your hands. “Unbreakable.” You reminded him softly, until he nodded, eyes closed with a shaky breath.

It was easier to show Winnie who her dad really was. You took her to the Smithsonian, walking alongside her through the Captain America exhibit, until she stopped wide-eyed in front of the large picture of her father. The panel detailed his service in the 107th, his capture in Azzano and the heroic actions that took place during his time alongside Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos before the tragic fall in 1945 from the train in the Alps. Once she’d had the chance to absorb her dad’s incredible feats, he took her for a long walk along the shore where he told her his story, in his own words- beginning with his time under HYDRA. He told her fond memories of his years in Wakanda, mentioning how incredibly badass the Dora Milaje are and that she would love Ayo, Okye and Shuri and perhaps one day she could meet them. He explained the blip, how he’d fought alongside so many heroes in order to save the Earth from the Mad Titan Thanos and fondly recalled Steve and Tony- her smile widening into a grin as she made the connection to her younger brothers’ names. He ended his story with you- how you met, how he fell in love with you and how you saved him. He told her how you made him a better man, helped him overcome his darkness and how she, his beautiful, resilient, first born child reminds him everyday that everything he had been through was worth it when he saw her smile.

Winnie got detention the next day for foul language. The principal called home to report that when she’d been arguing with a classmate she’d said- and I quote- “My dad saved the fucking planet, Jessica. Your dad’s screwing his secretary.”

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@badbunnybabygirl01 @suz7days @truthfulliarr @lilacka @writtingrose @samsgoddess @loveisallyouneed1125 @vicmc624 @millercontracting @wildernessflora @mydorkyboys @blackhawkfanatic @honestlywork @ladyvenera @cavity-exe @ihavetwoholesforareason @km-ffluv @shortnloud @mrs-katelyn-barnes @somnorvos @22rhianna2006 @fanfictionreaderfan @misshale21 @angelbaby99 @deans-spinster-witch @kezibear @acornacreacure @wintrsoldrluvr @terry2227

[whimsyvixen]

Hi! I just read your Rusty Nail fic, and I was wondering if you have SFW and/or NSFW head cannons for him? I love your writing and hope you're doing well :)

A/N: ~I'd like to apologize for waiting two years to answer this ask 😭. I've been watching slasher movies again and my motivation was brought back so I decided to have fun with writing this! Once again, I'm very sorry for the late reply but I hope you and every one else enjoys this! 🫶~

~

NSFW Alphabet | Rusty Nail | Joy Ride

Pairing: Rusty Nail x Female Reader

Rating: 18+

Synopsis/Excerpt: He also loves how easily you bruise, a smug grin forming in his face when he sees his marks of ownership scattered all over you.

Tags/Warnings: explicit content, dubcon/non-con themes, unprotected sex, choking, creampies, brief mention of captivity/kidnapping, overstimulation, large cock, vaginal sex, Rusty being sweet and a monster at the same time.

Minors do not interact

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

He's very affectionate, peppering kisses along your flushed face and caressing the dips and curves of your body as you're fighting to catch a breath after his vigorous fucking love making.

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

His hands are his favorite instrument, large enough to wrap around your throat and squeeze until his veins protrude from the force. He loves every dip and curve of your body, not knowing where to start because of how obsessed he is with your fragility and softness. He also loves how easily you bruise, a smug grin forming in his face when he sees his marks of ownership scattered all over you.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He's a big man with an equally big set of balls and dick. When he cums, it's in copious amounts and he always makes sure to come inside, ignoring your distressed cries and your hands pushing against him when you feel the sudden heat in your spasming walls. He licks your tears away, grinding his hips further into your puffy pussy to make sure none of his cum escapes your womb.

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

He read books by Nicholas Sparks and liked them. 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's very experienced. He prioritizes your pleasure over his because he loves seeing you come apart under his ministrations. Once you're twitching from the neverending pleasure, does he spread you wide and spears you with his cock in one smooth thrust. He listens very intently at every little gasp and moan escaping your lips so he can discover the rhythm and technique your most vocal on.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

His favorite position is cowgirl. He loves seeing how shy and nervous you get when you're hovering over him, licking his lips in anticipation when your pussy presses down on his engorged cock. He lets you go at your own pace, fighting the urge to thrust his hips up as you're slowly taking him inch by inch until your pelvises smack lewdly against each other. It is when your legs grow tired and your movement goes sluggish, that he takes charge and brings you down to clash with every upward thrust into your welcoming pussy. His eyes roam greedily between your sexes smashing violently together and your fucked out expression every time his cock kisses your cervix.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He enjoys teasing you, especially knowing how flustered you get when he whispers dirty things to you. Lacking any sexual experience prior to him, your face quickly gets heated and you can’t look him in the eye when he’s promising to drown in your pussy and fuck you until the bed breaks. If he's feeling humorous, he might start to tickle you to get you to smile and shriek to make you forget your embarrassment at his words.

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

He's a hairy man. His hair grows rather quickly so he needs to shave often, but he prefers to trim instead of shaving anything off fully. The hairs on his chest often tickle your nose when you're laying on him and the raspiness of his beard leaves a pleasant tingle behind on your skin when he kisses your cheeks. You have to look away when he stretches, his happy trail bringing memories of how deep you’ve had him in your throat, your nose pressed right against his pubic hair and smelling his manly musk before he proceeded to face fuck you to oblivion.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He wasn't always kind to you. Your refusal to accept your place as his beloved had forced him to be the bad guy early on in your relationship. However, after months of secluding you from any form of contact besides his, you've become dependent on him and jump into his arms when he releases you from your prison in the basement. As he's stroking your back and hugging your hiccupping form, he hushes your whimpers with sweet murmurs of never leaving you like the people that abandoned their search for you long ago. When he’s making love to you upstairs in his bedroom, he confesses his feelings for you and worships every inch of you with his mouth and hands. He will make sure you would be protected and loved by him and him alone. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He tries not to think about you while on the road because of how easily just the thought of you makes him hard under his pants. When explicit memories of you won’t leave him, he grumbles in frustration and tries to find somewhere secluded to rub one out. Once he’s parked his vehicle, he opens his glove compartment to find the piece of cloth he tore from you earlier that day. He then pleasures himself while sniffing the remnants of your cum soaked panties, shuddering at the musky scent and envisioning your pussy wrapped around him and your mouth begging him for more. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

The man has a breeding and lactation kink. He often places a pillow under you so his cum can stay in place inside your unprotected womb and sucks on your nipples to the point of pain imagining you plump with his baby and leaking milk into his mouth. 

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

He'll have sex with you just about anywhere. He particularly enjoys doing it in his truck, reclining his seat back to watch you bounce up and down on his fat cock in the middle of nowhere, dirty praises trickling past his lips about how much of a pretty slut you are for him and how good he'll give it to you later at home. He loves having you for dessert when he gets home from work (and killing) too, kneeling under the table in the kitchen to eat you out as you're struggling to eat the food you cooked for him while he gnaws at your clit and folds.

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

It's your skittish behavior and the way you bite your lip when he's near you that drives him crazy. Despite your stubbornness not to give in to his lecherous hands, he has you bent over before you can voice out a protest. He runs his fingers lightly along your trembling legs, eyeing the way your soaked panties cling to your vulva and asking what you want him to do to you. If you stay silent for too long, he’ll lean down and threaten to leave you as you are, pressing his hardened cock between your cheeks all the while. Just as he’s about to pull away, you push your hips back and look at him pleadingly. You’re still too shy to tell him what you want so you’ll open your legs wider hoping he catches your drift. He’d want to tease you further but even he has a limit. Your panties are torn off and the clink of a belt is heard right before the room is filled with wet smacks of flesh and breathless cries and grunts echoing throughout the house. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would never share you. He'd kill any man or woman who dared touch what was his. 

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

Over the years, he entertained himself with a few lot lizards and learned how to perfect his technique with each encounter. By the time he met you, he knew exactly where to kiss, lick and suck to have you creaming in his mouth within minutes. He's never tasted a pussy as good as yours and will often eat you out for long periods of time, ignoring the way you're tugging on his hair to try to remove him from your overstimulated clit and quivering walls.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Depending on how well behaved you are, he can make it slow and sweet for you. He prefers his sex fast and rough, but will be gentle when your sex is sore from the poundings he gave it. However, his gentleness goes out the window when you start acting rebellious again. If you disobey him and try running away, he will catch you and  fuck you in a rage until your crying and begging for forgiveness. He'll fuck you like a bull all night until you pass out from exhaustion. You'll wake up alone and locked inside the basement again, what little freedom you had earned gone in an instant.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He's not a particular fan of quickies because he likes to take his time with you. He enjoys seeing how your will chips away with every stroke of his hands, mouth, and cock, your body fighting against your mind to reach its climax and forcing you to cry out for him after the pleasure becomes too much for you. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Considering how creative he is when torturing his victims, you can bet he’s just as creative in the bedroom. He's a bit of a sadist and will be curious to find out what your limits and pain tolerance is. He smiles at you when you freeze at the rope and chains he has in his hands. You’ll cry out when he handles you none-too-gently, having little time to protect yourself when he wraps a hand around your throat and forces the other down your panties. He’ll tighten his hold on your neck, wheezes and choked gasps escaping you as your eyes beseech him for mercy. In the midst of this punishment, you are horrified to feel your arousal spike, strands of your slick running down your legs as he fingerfucks you roughly. Once he finds out how much you can take, he will subject you to the same painful pleasure at a later date.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He’s only human and has to suffer through a refractory period so he makes sure you cum multiple times before he does. He is able to accomplish this by pumping his fingers inside your pussy, stimulating your g spot while he is forcing his tongue down your throat to muffle your mewls. He’ll have you cumming on his fingers within minutes, allowing you to witness him licking the residue of your orgasm before trailing his body down to the juncture of your thighs. He’ll bury his face in your cunt, holding you in place with one hand on your stomach and stroking himself with the other. Once he’s successfully made you cum again, does he line himself up along your soaked entrance. It is a challenge not to cum once his cock is enveloped by your heat, your walls constricting like a vice around him and making him grit his teeth to prevent himself from spilling inside you too soon. He’ll pump his hips slowly at first, trying to adjust to your gummy insides and closing his eyes in concentration. His careful pace gets shot down to hell when your heels brace on the bed, tilting your hips up and colliding with his next downward thrust. He opens his eyes startled, taking one good look at your disheveled appearance and your chest heaving in a tantalizing fashion before he grabs on to the headboard and slams his hips down in one meaty smack. Within a few moments, you orgasm two more times and your head is lolling to the side by the time he fills you with his cum.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

While he does use restraints on you, he does not own any toys. He's aware of their existence but has never really thought of using them on you. He's confident in his ability to bring you pleasure by his touch alone. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

As was said before, he enjoys teasing you due to your inexperience with sex. His sexual innuendos and jokes make you fidget and squirm where you’re at. No matter how often he’s fucked you, he can never seem to rid you of your embarrassment when you’re both naked and touching each other intimately. It amuses him how cute you are, removing his shirt purposely in front of you before tackling you down playfully on the bed to begin teasing you further.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He'll grit his teeth to lessen his gasps and groans, preferring to hear the sweet symphony of your pleasured cries and moans instead. He'll hide his face on your neck, bracing his knees on the bed before pummeling you hard enough to make the bed creak and your voice rise with each snap of his hips. Heated puffs and throaty moans would spill from him once your walls constricted around him and coaxed him to cum inside your warm heat. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

It was a passing conversation he heard between truckers on the cb radio while he was driving. One of them mentioned how he and his lady kept their sex life interesting and alive for so many years. They did this by role-playing and wearing salacious outfits to spice up the sex. Rusty listened on to the conversation, his mind conjuring up images of you dressing up as a scantily clad nurse or maid, waiting to treat him and service him in any way he desired. It was another trucker’s similar experience but with pet play that had him stunned. A flux of images of you on your knees in cow print lingerie and a collar around your neck stormed his brain, triggering his lactation kink and imagining you whining about the fullness of your chest and needing his help to ease the hurt. That night, he didn’t give you a chance to welcome him home. He ripped your clothes off in a frenzy, paying special attention to your tits while you let out confused moans not knowing what’s gotten into him. He fucked you especially hard, your sweaty bodies colliding violently as his silent determination to get you pregnant echoed like a mantra in his head. 

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Being well over 6 feet tall, the dick must match the man. The first time you saw it in its entirety, you had quickly slammed your legs shut out of fear. Now you knew why you were always so sore. His cock bobbed out in the open, the weight of it nearly dragging it down as he walked purposefully towards you on the bed. It took very little effort to spread your legs, slapping your hands away when you tried to hide your sex from him. A gasp left you when the heavy weight of his cock slapped on your pubic mound, the length of it reaching your belly button as you lay frozen in place. You could feel it throbbing angrily along your soft belly, your pussy twitching like crazy as you imagined it splitting you open.

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

His sex drive nearly kills you. He's always ready to go and he is not ashamed to grind his erection against your ass so you can feel how much he wants you. Even after he cums, he will continue to play with your body, ensuring you’re always ready for him once he gets hard again. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Once he is completely spent, he's a heavy sleeper. It's hard to get out of his arms when the brute barely feels you squirming and continues to snore softly above your head. You have to bite him to get him to wake up.

A/N: Believe it or not, writing this killed me. Next time I make one of these, I'm only doing certain letters of the alphabet, not the whole thing 💀. Anyways, I hope you guys really enjoyed this! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated 🫶!

Aand I've got a nice treat for my followers to go with this writing~🖤

🔞Full NSFW image here🔞--> <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

[cherryheairt]

saw a tiktok of a guy begging his gf to keep scratching his back whenever she paused it made me think of benjicot. I keep seeing kieran's tts hes so feminist bf coded

🪶

Dramatic

"Please?"

"No."

"Please." he begged.

Sighing, Rena complied with his plea and began her delicate movements once more. This had become a nightly routine since their wedding, when the couple were finally allowed to share their chambers–though that never stopped them from sneaking around before.

She liked to keep her nails shaped finely, slightly above her fingertips and well-cleaned. Benjicot discovered the benefits of her self-care one day when they both lie in bed, naked. His head was on her bare chest, content to listen to her humming while he was resting on the plush skin. Her nails dragged up and down his back, making him shiver almost violently.

When she paused, he groaned loudly, "don't stop."

Giggling, she continued her motions til he was asleep.

This had been going on for months. When the couple sat in bed after their coupling, knowing their nights were spent all to themselves instead of serving their house and Lord and Lady. Benjicot was weak to her touch.

Though, he hadn't always been so aware.

Her lashes, thick and long, were the result of oiling them before bed. Her hair, volumous and long because of the messages she worked on during her baths. Legs and arms smooth from concentrated shaving. Her unique floral scent, only present thanks to the perfumes from Dorne.

Many things went into a noble ladies' looks, though any unknowing man thought that it just came naturally. 'Just born pretty and smelling good,' was a common misconception in their life. Also, an excuse for the men to be the opposite.

Benji was one of the clueless ones, in awe of Rena's beauty and always complimenting her scent with his head shoved to her neck.

It was only after they married that he found out how long it took to get that way. He would be out of their shared bath for a half-hour, just watching dumbstruck as she razed her limbs. "You have to do this every bath?" He asked, wincing when he thought she might nick her leg.

Rena laughed, shaking her head. "Once a week, maybe."

He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. He was only covered by his waist cloth, content with sitting in the bathroom until she was done. "You don't have to, if you don't want to." Benjicot said. "I won't mind."

She smiled up at him, grateful that he was he husband and not some ignorant old brute. "I know, I like my routines. It makes me feel pretty." Rena preened under his loving stare.

"You're always pretty." He declared with a soft kiss to her knuckles. He nearly leaped with joy when she stood, done with washing and shaving–only to deadpan when she slathered herself in scented oils outside of the bath.

Tonight was like all the previous ones, Ben insisting that he could not sleep without her tender massages. It had been a long day for both of them, both content to relax in their shared silence. Until she paused her motions to move potsitions.

For minutes at a time, she would scratch, wondering how he had not fallen asleep yet. He would moan whenever she paused, pleading desperately. "You won't die without it for one night, my love." She snorted quietly in the candlelit room.

"I might. How do we know that I won't?" He grunted, face deep into her smooth neck.

"My husband, killed not by the sword of a fearsome enemy, but by not getting enough attention from his wife." Rena sighed.

He nodded, smiling. "That will be put on my gravestone." They both laughed.

"You really can't sleep without it?"

"Truly." Benji answered.

"Hm. What if I couldn't sleep, would you not return the favor?" Rena asked, amused.

Benjicot answered by lifted his hand to her face, showing off his blunt calloused fingertips. "Gotta keep 'em short."

"Ah, yes. For swordfighting.' She mused.

"No, for you."

"Me?" Bemused, she glanced down at him, only to see his smug face.

"Gross, Ben." She said, through a poorly hidden laugh. Benjicot looked very pleased with himself as he wetly kissed her check, producing a dramatic 'pop!' sound.

"You weren't complaining earlier."

Rena shoved his face away, groaning at his boorishness. "Go to bed." She huffed.

"I will, once you scatch my back."

They held prolonged eye contact, neither backing down until Rena blinked accidentally. "Ha!" Benjicot cheered. "I win."

Rena rolled her eyes, knowing she couldn't argue with their years-long tradition. Any petty and unserious argument must be solved with a staring contest to swiftly end it, lest it be turned into a serious one.

She sat back once more, hair a mess around her when it scrunched into the pillow. Benji followed, laying right were he always did, on her chest. He sighed with content when she started moving her nails in patterns across his skin.

"Thank you, my love."

Rena hummed her response, kissing his messy hair goodnight.

[wolfislost]

On The Joys of Hunting

I see a lot of alterhumans talk about the horrors of having a prey drive, the inconvenience of it, or how violent/ugly it is.

For understandable reasons, the impulse to kill is not the most palatable thing in the world. Especially in a society that is for the most part no longer interested in, or familiar with, the idea of hunting for food.

For some of us alterhumans, hunting is more than just a way to get food. It's a way to feel like ourselves, by doing what we're meant to. What comes naturally to us.

I say all of this to provide groundwork for an observation I've made about a practice of mine.

I engage in a kind of faux-hunting. I stalk prey animals, without actually killing them. It's a slow, methodical, and quiet thing. The process is mostly waiting and watching.

I'm sure from the outside it looks incredibly boring.

But from the inside, it's enrapturing. Every twitch, every slight movement they make is a tiny jolt of electricity in my nerves. It's one of the only times I get to fully let myself be a monster. Something primal and instictive and finely tuned in to my surroundings.

At the same time, it's deeply relaxing.

I suffer from a long term anxiety disorder that I rarely talk about here. Between that and my innate personality, my mind is a cluttered place most of the time.

When I'm shifted, all of that goes away.

And when I'm hunting, there's a kind of singular clarity that a shift might otherwise lack. It's a little like being a force of nature. Act and react. Cause and effect.

You move, I move.

This isn't the only positive experience I've had with my prey drive, but it's the one I wanted to talk about first.

Have you had any experiences you want to share? Does anyone else get a similar satisfaction out of stalking animals?

☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆

This post wouldn't exist without @flooferbutt who asked the question that started this, and @beastlybardou who's ability to articulate ideas and share experiences has been crucial to me developing my own. Thank you both, keep being awesome.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Future Plans

Pairing: Dark Steve Rogers x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Steve has a desire to have a family and you’re no one to stop him. 

WARNINGS: Non-con; Implied Kidnapping; Forced Pregnancy. 

AN: First time writing non-con, so let me know how this is. This is a small gift for reaching 900 followers, thank you guys! Please, reblog and give me feedback.

--

“No! Stop it!” you cry out but to no avail. Steve keeps fucking you against the matress with rough thrusts, his pelvis hitting your own in a painful way that makes you squeal.

You’re dry as a desert and it only makes your pain worse, his massive cock drilling your weak pussy. His hands hold down your wrists, his handsome face contorted with wicked pleasure as his sweat drips down to your face. 

The bed squeaks with every movement, continuously hitting the wall behind it. The tears keep wetting your face as you’re unable to control yourself. You hate him so much, you just want him to leave you alone. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m getting so close.” he groans, eyes rolling with satisfaction. Steve tries to kiss you, but you turn your head so his lips kiss your skin instead, sucking and spreading his disgusting saliva all over you. 

“I’m gonna give you a kid, how about that?” he grunts, moving a hand to grab your face, forcing you to stare at him. Horror fills every inch of your body, the little hope you had for yourself starting to disappear.

“No, no…” you regain energy as you strongly try to push Steve away from you. A child is the least thing you need right now.

He only chuckles, followed by a moan and he thrusts into you harder, eyes glinting with intense emotion. Lust, madness.

“You’re gonna be so heavy with my kid that you won’t be able to stand properly, much less run away. I’m gonna fuck a baby into you. Fuck, yes.” Steve mutters, his thrusts getting more erratic and violent as he keeps talking. 

“I’ll always keep you pregnant, heavy and full of my babies. That’s going to be so nice, isn’t it?” tears keep running down your face and you’re not sure if it’s because of his aggressive way of fucking you or because of deranged his plans. 

He fucks you relenlessly until he suddenly halts, a loud moan escaping his lips as the buries his face on your face. Steve crashes down on top of you, his weight making it harder for you to breathe but he doesn’t seem to notice you trying to get away from him.

Instead, he kisses your neck and takes a deep breath, pushing his cock until you can’t take more of him. Some white cum drips down your pussy and down your thighs, the feeling is gross and you can’t wait to clean it all.

He seems to have read your mind because he hugs you, twisting your body so that you’re caged back into his arms, his cock still buried inside you. 

“No cleaning, babe, we gotta make sure it sticks. We should have a little one in nine months.” Steve declares, tilting his hips upwards, as he kisses the top of your sweaty head.

You close your eyes, hoping to wake up next morning and find out it’s all just a big nightmare. 

It’s not and in nine months, you find yourself holding a tiny baby as Steve fervoulsy kisses your forehead, thanking you for giving him such a beautiful bundle of joy. 

[houserautha]

no, but feyd is upset with you over something you did and so he goes to train for hours to release some steam & comes back and ur 🐱 is dripping from thinking of ways to please him and get back into his good graces and he just takes ur poor little kitty on a joy ride to solace and ur creaming and crying bc this is all you ever wanted was to make him feel good, use you, and love you

There’s this audio of him say “I already know everything I need to know” and I can’t stop thinking about trying to apologize to him or make up for whatever you did to make him angry and he says that and then takes us to poundtown!!!

I think I blacked out writing this. Horny me fully took over.

Warnings: humiliation kink? He calls you a whore, rough sex

Feyd strikes the training dummy. Once. Twice. Until his knuckles bleed.

You thought you could go behind his back and put out an order for extra artillery — a decision that, had you made together, would’ve been fine. But you are supposed to be a team. Too many people have deceived him, have torn from him what he held in esteem. And though he didn’t think you capable of such a thing, it didn’t lessen any of his anger. It festered, molten-like, inside.

And since Feyd only had two ways of easing his temper, one of which had been the cause of it, he was forced to rely on the other. Sparring.

Eventually he got lost in the movements of his body, his opponent, the surge of blood in his ears. The soreness in his muscles a welcome reprieve to whatever was grieving him. He could lose himself in this, in combat, when his mind slipped away and he reverted back into old, violent habits. The way he was before you.

But he couldn’t think of you. Not now.

A sigh loosens from you. Frustrated, you withdraw your fingers from your cunt. There’s no denying that something is wrong with you, to be so aroused by your fight with Feyd that you seek out your pleasure as soon as he is gone. But it’s not what you want, what you need — only he can provide that. And who knows how long he’ll be gone, Feyd is unpredictable on a normal day, much less when he’s furious at you.

Still caught in that state of arousal, you allow your thoughts to drift back to the moment before he left. His pupils blown, plush lips pulled back in a snarl, stalking the room and looking so damn attractive in his armor. You barely heard any of the words he yelled at you, could only focus on the heat of desire pooling between your thighs.

It’s not until the shadows have lengthened and the glow globes illuminate the room that he returns. You’re there, waiting for him, dressed in the sheer teddy that you know he favors, and there’s no mistaking the approval in his eyes.

“What’s this?” He rasps, infuriatingly neutral.

“I wanted to make it up to you,” you say. You slowly approach him, footsteps muffled in the soft carpet.

“Then revoke the request.”

You stop. “No.”

Feyd brushes past you without a word. Irritated, you roll your eyes to the ceiling, pleading for some higher deity to relieve you of this burdensome man. Not one to be deterred, however, you traipse after him. “Let me show you how sorry I am.”

He begins removing his armor.

It’s a performance truly deserving of the highest accolades — his muscled body covered in a fine layer of sweat, each discarded piece of metal revealing more and more of him. If he’s trying to frustrate you even more or you’re just incredibly horny, you can’t tell. You tear your gaze from him as you feel your cunt clenching in anticipation.

Feyd ignores you. The view of him from behind is even more tantalizing than the side, firm ass on display as he steps into the shower receptacle. Your only answer is the burst of hot water from the spigot, washing away the blood and sweat, his tricep rippling as he puts one hand above his head and stands beneath the spray.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Feyd, c’mon, don’t be like this,” you say, raising your voice to be heard over the roar of water.

Still, nothing.

You try every trick in the book, but nothing you say invokes a solitary word from the na-Baron. You would rather have him be screaming and raging than this silent treatment and, worst of all, you’re still aching for his cock in you.

Teeth gritting, you force out, “Fine. I shouldn’t have done that. But I need you to know —”

Before you can even finish your train of thought, Feyd is stalking toward you. Water beads on his skin, in the furrow of his brow. A squeak escapes you when he grabs your face, hard, squeezing your chin to the point of tears forming in your eyes. Oh god, you want him so badly.

“Stop. Talking.” He orders. Feyd holds you there, dark gaze roaming over your face. When he speaks again, his voice is deep and rasping. “I already know everything I need to know.”

Then his mouth is on you, fierce and possessive, bruising your lips with his. Hands clutch at your sides, driving you forward. You gasp at the assault of the hot shower water on your skin as he thrusts you beneath it, shoving you up against the cool stone wall. The sheer teddy clings to your form and he angrily tears it from you, a dark chuckle brushing past your ear when he realizes that you weren’t wearing any panties underneath.

“Look at you, such a slut,” he snarls. You can feel him stroking his cock, readying himself, and you writhe in desperation. “You’re pathetic. So needy for this cock inside you.”

“Please,” you breathe out, blinking against the onslaught of water.

“You liked our fight,” he continues, “I could see it in your eyes.”

You nod, thighs clenching together as you imagine his intrusion. What was he waiting for?

“Tell me you liked it.”

“I-I liked it,” you say, your voice hovering into a whimper.

“Such a whore. And you think you can make it up to me by offering up that pretty pussy?” He cups your breasts, tugging on one of your nipples, and you cry out in surprise. “Tell me.”

“I thought I could — I thought I could make it up to you by offering up my pussy,” you stammer back. His fingers on your breasts are distracting, massaging and kneading, flickering over your taut nipples. Every touch of his feels as if it’s tethered to your cunt, ripples of desire flooding through you with each one.

Feyd presses his front to your backside, cock nudging up against your inner thigh but denying you the entry of it. He all but purrs in reply, mouth on the shell of your ear, “That’s right. So naughty. How do you know I even want to fuck a whore like you?”

“Please, please. I said I was sorry —”

He takes the opportunity to spear you with his cock, forcing you up against the shower wall with all of his might to keep you from squirming. The size and length of him without any warning is shocking, nearly cleaving you in half. At least, that’s what it feels like as he continues to rock into you, each snap of his hips burying him deeper and deeper inside.

It feels so fucking good that you grind back into him, desperate for more.

This is what you wanted, what you needed. You needed him angry and unhinged. Needed his mouth to scrape bites and kisses across your skin, his hands clamoring to touch all of you at once, fingers leaving bruises. You needed him to pump inside you like his cock was your penance, your misgivings laid at his feet. He was your fall from grace but also your redemption.

Your vision blurs as he wrings each orgasm from you until, finally, he shoots his cum inside you. It’s warm and thick, sticking to your walls, and both of you pant to catch your breath as he finishes, keeping his cock slotted in your cunt.

The shower water has turned cold now, dowsing you in glacial rivulets.

Feyd removes himself from you and places a kiss on the junction of your neck and shoulder. “Don’t do it again,” he warns before leaving you to recover, shivering from the cold and your weak knees. You can’t help but smirk.

In the end, you always get what you want.

[3liza]

"why do NORMIES hate my JOY" well as a fellow autistic I can tell you I'm not real fond of sudden, earsplitting screeching and unpredictable violent movements either, because initially you just can't be too sure whether they're joyful hand flapping or someone trying to kill me, and this influences my reaction to your behavior somewhat

[eepwtf]

UPCOMING BOTS / BOT DUMP!!

i’m a sucker for the fall season, every and any season CANNOT top the fall season at all. which is why i’m making (some) horror/halloween inspired bots—even if there’s like 70 something days till halloween. along with a few random bots i've done and going to do.

tvdu ☆彡

Kai Parker: 𓏲ּ ghostface au! 𓂃

after you caught his eyes, he had an inexplicable curiosity over you. every step you took, every conversation you had with other people, he was there, watching you from afar. of course, that didn’t sedate his curiosity over you. so, when someone in your orbit ventured a little too close, he took matters into his own hands—quite literally. he gutted the perceived threat, the world around him narrowing into a singular focus: you. to him, it wasn’t just a crime; it was an artistic expression, a violent confession of his feelings woven into a tapestry of blood and chaos. He crafted his work with meticulous care, each stroke of the blade a declaration of his affection. yet, in the heat of his actions, a twist of fate caught him off guard—there you were, witnessing it all. Elena Gilbert: 𓏲ּ halloween costumes 𓂃

caroline's halloween party loomed on the horizon, a spectral deadline that demanded perfection. every cobweb, jack-o'-lantern, and plastic skeleton needed to be meticulously placed. the entire event had to be flawless, a masterpiece of festive horror. you, however, felt a different kind of dread. social gatherings weren't your forte, and the thought of navigating a sea of costumed strangers made your stomach churn. but elena, with her infectious enthusiasm, had other plans. she'd already amassed an army of costumes for you to try on, each one more outrageous than the last. as she twirled before you in a dizzying parade of personas—from sultry vampire to whimsical fairy—her eyes sparkled with anticipation, silently demanding your opinion on each piece of clothing she’d modeled on herself. Elena Gilbert: 𓏲ּ cookies and kisses 𓂃

elena passion for baking was palpable, even if she wasn't a seasoned expert. what truly brought her joy was your presence in the kitchen, your willingness to join her culinary adventures. she cherished those moments when you'd sample her latest creations, those little baking treats she'd present with such enthusiasm. as you took that first bite, elena's eyes would light up, watching intently for your reaction. the moment you'd let out a contented groan of approval, a proud smile would bloom across her face, warming her from within. in those sweet instances, she felt a sense of accomplishment that went beyond the mere act of baking—it was about the connection, the shared experience, and the simple pleasure of making someone she cared for happy through her heartfelt efforts. Bonnie Bennett: 𓏲ּ season of the witch ( witch!user ) 𓂃

bonnie had gone to your place for witchcraft lessons, bringing some herbs you had specifically asked for, and of course, she brought the most important thing she needed for the lessons. herself. she knew that the lessons you were teaching her were more advanced, and that she needed to pay attention but as you began to explain the complex theories and gestures, she found her concentration wavering. your shoulder pressed against hers as you demonstrated a particularly intricate hand movement, the warmth of your body so close to hers, the subtle scent of herbs that clung to your skin, the intensity in your eyes as you spoke of each spell - it all combined to make her head spin.

Damon Salvatore: 𓏲ּ lost in your iris 𓂃

damon tried to fight his feelings for you, but you were his weakness. he sees you completely, and he’d do anything to have you near him. every glance you exchanged pulled him deeper into a world only you inhabited, where his heart raced and his resolve faltered. he yearned to lose himself in those captivating eyes, longing to feel the gentle spark of your existence beside him. Klaus Mikaelson: 𓏲ּ so confusing 𓂃

klaus wrestled with uncertainty, his feelings for you a tangled web of emotions. some days, he was convinced you harbored a deep-seated dislike for him, your every glance and gesture seeming to confirm his fears. other times, he caught himself nurturing a grudging resentment towards you, though he couldn't quite pinpoint its origin. despite all of that, he persistently suggested grabbing drinks. it had become his go-to solution, a way to bridge the gap between you two–or perhaps to blur the lines of your complicated relationship. so, inevitably, you'd find yourselves perched on barstools in some dimly lit establishment, nursing your drinks, surrounded by the hum of stranger's conversations. the atmosphere was always thick with unspoken words and lingering glances. sometimes, you'd manage to fall into an easy rhythm, laughing at shared jokes and swapping stories about your day. in these moments, the confusion would recede, and a genuine connection seemed possible. but more often than not, an awkward tension would creep in. silences stretched too long, laughter felt forced, and both of you would become hyper-aware of every word and gesture. ( this is actually my fav rn!! )

Klaus Mikaelson: 𓏲ּ his muse 𓂃

klaus always found himself getting lost in the dance of his hands across the canvas, transforming the lifeless white expanse into a vibrant masterpiece. the studio was his sanctuary, a world inhabited only by his artistic vision and you—his ethereal muse. in his eyes, you were the embodiment of perfection, and his brush strokes captured your essence without flaw. the art, a mirror of his perception, revealed no imperfections, for in his mind, you were utterly flawless.

spn ⟢

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ angels and halloween ( angel!user ) ᵎᵎ

you were an angel, which meant that you had no idea about humans, especially in their tradition of halloween. so when dean catches you staring at the halloween decor, and costumes in a store, he goes out of his way to make this a memorable halloween for the angel. he planned an elaborate evening, starting with pumpkin carving. your first attempt at pumpkin carving was... unique. the face you created had a lopsided grin and mismatched eyes, one comically larger than the other. next came costume selection, where the two of you went to the nearest halloween, a warehouse-sized space filled with endless racks of costumes and accessories. you browsed through countless options: superheroes, movie characters, mythical creatures. dean suggested a sexy devil costume with a mischievous grin, but you firmly declined, not finding the humor in it. ( i think this is my top 2 fav! )

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ insatiable ( vamp!user ) ᵎᵎ

dean’s fangs throbbed with an insatiable hunger, a primal urge he struggled to contain. every pulse of blood rushing through nearby veins called to him like a siren's song. the warmth radiating from human bodies sent shockwaves of desire coursing through his undead form. but resistance only seemed to intensify the craving. his heightened senses picked up on every nuance—the slight sheen of sweat on exposed skin, the rhythmic thump of hearts, the tantalizing scent of life itself. through it all, you observed him drinking in his struggle like a fine wine, with a knowing smirk playing at the corners of your mouth. your eyes sparkled with amusement, fully aware of the internal battle raging inside dean. you knew exactly what he craved—what he needed. and yet here you stood, taunting him, daring him to give in to his darkest impulses.

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ dark magic ( witch!user ) ᵎᵎ

dean wasn’t that awfully nice when it came down to witches or anything surrounding the supernatural. everything he stood suddenly disappeared when it came to you, logic fled and instinct reigned. your very existence seemed to weave an enchantment around him, bending his iron will as easily as a whisper bends a candle flame. in your orbit, he became a different man—softer, more open, as if you alone held the key to unlocking a hidden part of his soul. but your influence was not without cost. your magic, steeped in shadow, left a trail of upheaval in their wake. chaos bloomed wherever you tread, a dark garden of your own making. ( not sure i might stick with this plot, but am so hhhng im lazy )

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ might say somethin stupid ᵎᵎ

after a long, exhausting hunt, dean heads to a nearby bar to unwind. weighed down by the night's events, he orders a drink and surveys the room. his attention is quickly drawn to a stunning individual sitting a few stools away. intrigued, dean moves closer, captivated by their effortless beauty and presence. deciding to engage, he buys them a drink and leans in, confidently flirting with a playful question about their relationship status, hoping to shift the mood and distract himself from the tension of the hunt.

Sam Winchester: ๑ ︵ bloody date ᵎᵎ

it was catastrophic. sam knew, deep in his bones, what you truly were. he might have chastised himself for harboring feelings for you, convinced he was teetering on the edge of insanity as his heart clenched painfully within his chest at the mere thought of your presence. but fuck, you were worth it right? this date, however, shattered any remaining illusions. it was meant to be an intimate affair—small, meaningful, a cherished memory in the making. well, you sure as hell made it memorable for him to ever forget it. there you stood, fangs sunk deep into your helpless victim, crimson rivulets painting the edges of your mouth like some macabre artwork.

slashers ☆彡

Brahms Heelshire: ୭ ∿ i'll be good ∿

you had reluctantly accepted the nanny position, despite the suspiciously high salary. the isolated manor and eccentric heelshire family raised red flags, but desperation silenced your misgivings. nothing, however, could have prepared you for the absurdity of your charge – a porcelain doll named brahms. initially, you played along with the charade, following the strict rules set by the heelshires. but as days turned to weeks, an unsettling truth emerged. the real brahms was no doll, but a grown man, which in hindsight would be something to be freaked out about but for you it was fine, however the fact that the brahms could be a little too clingy was the problem. simple errands became ordeals. attempts to leave the property triggered tantrums, brahms clinging to you not wanting you to leave him.

Patrick Bateman: ୭ ∿ touch starved ∿

patrick never considered himself a touch-starved person. in fact, he often thrived in the artificial perfection of his meticulously curated life. he relished the combination of power suits and high-stakes finance, his existence orchestrated with a calculated precision that left no room for vulnerability. but from the moment you entered his life, everything changed. he found himself drawn to you like a moth to a flame, craving your touch in a way that defied his logical mind. in the upscale restaurants you frequented—places with starched tablecloths, crystal stemware, and prices that made most people wince—patrick's behavior shifted noticeably. while he once sat rigidly across from his dining companions, maintaining a respectable distance, with you he couldn't bear even that small separation. he'd guide you to the plush booth seating, sliding in close enough that your thighs touched beneath the table. as you perused the menu, his arm would find its way around your shoulders, fingers absently tracing patterns on your skin. during the meal, he'd lean in unnecessarily close to murmur observations about the food or other patrons, his breath warm against your ear. as the evenings wore on, patrick found increasingly creative ways to maintain contact. he'd reach across the table to adjust your napkin or brush an imaginary crumb from your cheek. Patrick Bateman: ୭ ∿ feeling bratty? ∿

patrick felt more on edge as time passed, a tightening coil of frustration that wound ever tighter within him. when the tension reached its boiling point, he reacted instinctively, striking out like a stray cat cornered and threatened, hissing and baring its tiny fangs. in that moment of vulnerability, his anger found an outlet in the nearest target—unfortunately, that target was you. deep down, he recognized his own insufferable behavior; he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him. he watched as you scoffed at his provocations or simply ignored his taunts, and each dismissive reaction stoked the flames of his irritation. the more you turned away, the more desperately he sought your attention, despite knowing the fire he was playing with could easily burn him.

misc ⟢

Soldier Boy: 𓂃 ꒰ freak show ꒱

Ben never imagined he'd find himself at the entrance of a peculiar circus, its weathered sign proclaiming "freak show" in faded letters. for weeks, vought's pr team had hounded him relentlessly, insisting that this appearance would be "good for public relations" and "humanize" him in the eyes of the masses. ben had scoffed at first, but their persistence wore him down like water on stone. now, here he was, surrounded by wide-eyed gawkers and the constant buzz of excited whispers. as the show began, ben found himself oddly captivated. each act was more outlandish than the last - contortionists twisting their bodies into impossible shapes, fire-breathers painting the air with flames, and strongmen hefting weights that should have been beyond human capability. but then, as the ringmaster's booming voice announced the next act, the tent fell into a hushed silence. a single spotlight illuminated the center ring, and ben's breath caught in his throat. there you were. the aerialist.

Stiles Stilinski: 𓂃 ꒰ favorite monster ꒱

stiles was well versed when it came down to the supernatural, he read every book, myth, and stories when it came to the supernatural. was well aware of the dangers of ghosts, werewolves, vampires the whole gist, you name it he undoubtedly knows it all. of course, you were a different case, a unique case that even though he knew the dangers about being a vampire he couldn’t for the life of himself get away from you. every late-night conversation and shared secret made it harder for him to keep his distance. as the two of you walked through the forest, discussing everything from pop culture to existentialism, it was at the very instant that your sudden laugh made his heart race. the warmth in your eyes and the way you would brush your hand with his rendered him utterly transfixed. he wondered how it was possible to feel so electrified and safe in the presence of someone who was, by all accounts, a threat. Stiles Stilinski: 𓂃 ꒰ you're ghostface ꒱

stiles didn’t know what to expect when the rumors of a serial killer began circulating in their small town. the gossip, dripping with fear and intrigue, shattered the fragile peace of beacon hills. as he stumbled through the dimly lit alley, the unmistakable glint of a knife illuminated by the flickering light from the nearby streetlamp caught his eye, and as the scene grew clearer, every hope he'd entertained shattered like glass. you, standing over a crumpled figure on the ground, the knife still gleaming in your hand, ghostface mask perched above your head. stiles had known you—i mean, really known you. the fact it was you, who was said killer made his stomach churn. he felt as though the ground had been pulled from beneath him, leaving him suspended in disbelief.

Madison Montgomery: 𓂃 ꒰ bitchy!user ꒱

madison's initial reaction to your caustic demeanor was a blend of irritation and intrigue. it catches her off guard; she's unaccustomed to having her façade challenged so directly. your unwavering stance and refusal to be cowed gnaws at her composure, chipping away at the armor of superiority she's cultivated. yet, beneath her outward indignation, she finds herself grudgingly impressed. your razor-sharp retorts and quick wit present a novel challenge—one that simultaneously infuriates and exhilarates her.

Madison Montgomery: 𓂃 ꒰ tobacco lips ꒱

before her death, madison was already dead inside. numb to the world, she craved to feel—anything. she chased oblivion through a haze of flesh, drugs, and alcohol, desperately seeking to drown the echoes of her past. each indulgence was a futile attempt to erase the memories: her mother's absence, her asshole of a father, the relentless scrutiny of the press, and the string of lovers who had taken pieces of her without leaving anything in return. she had found her way to the nearest bar, her face, heavily caked with makeup, felt like a mask weighing her down. her once-pearly teeth, now tobacco-stained, hid behind a sneer. the dress she'd chosen, meant to turn heads, only succeeded in making her look cheap rather than alluring. she navigated the crowded gathering with a practiced arrogance, projecting an aura of superiority she didn't feel. a fresh cigarette dangled from her lips, the filter stained with lipstick—a silent testament to her desperation. her words flowed freely, empty promises spilling from her mouth to the eager ears of men old enough to know better. then, through the haze of smoke and poor decisions, she saw you. beautiful, poised you—the coven's rising star, their future supreme. you stood surrounded by distinguished men, everything madison's admirers lacked. everything madison herself lacked. shame crashed over madison, as darted out, trying to get away from your sight.

might fix some of these but …. probably not anyway! @eppwtf on c.ai 😛

[slxsherwriter]

Pay for Past Sins

Fandom: Joy Ride

Pairing: Rusty Nail x single mother female reader

Word count: 2,529

Warnings: Kidnapping, violence, blood, injuries, threats to a child character

Author's note: I wanted to play with the idea of allowing Rusty to show off that more violent and aggressive side of him since I've written him more softly. In the end, I actually struggled a bit with the way that he would handle things, so I think I found a way to go about it that suited everything. As always, not beta read. Mistakes are my own. Enjoy! Likes are always appreciated, but reblogs keep the creative muse fed.

Tagging: @tinalbion @umnitsa

Stickiness on the side of your face. A deep, pulsing throb in your head. You made a move to reach up and touch where the pain seemed to be radiating from, only to not be able to move your arms. A quick jerk confirmed the fact and panic welled in your chest. What the hell? The tightness around your wrists registered as well as the stretch in your shoulders. Your hands were restrained behind your back.

The last thing that you remembered was having dinner with Rusty and Michael. Michael. You tried to push yourself up. It took a little more effort than expected and only made your head feel worse, the pain sharpening briefly as you righted yourself. It took a moment, some slow breathing with your eyes squeezed shut, to let the worsening pain pass. Once it felt like your head wasn't about to pop like a grape, you opened your eyes. The room around you wasn't all that impressive. Dark, dingy. A dirt floor beneath you meant any movement caused little clouds of dirt dust to whirl in the air. It was quiet. Eerily and uncomfortably quiet. Panic curled in your gut and your chest, for a moment, leaving you feeling breathless. You had to get free. Where was Rusty? Where was Michael? Were you the only one who was tied up in this? There were a lot of questions and no answers. As you shifted your wrists, causing the material to bite further into your skin, you looked around for any sign of your son first.

“Look who's awake.” A voice off to your right spoke. There wasn't a body that you could see, just shadow movements. Blinking, you tried to clear your eyes more and find the shape of the individual that was speaking. “You aren't going to get yourself free. Might as well stop now.” The voice wasn't one that you knew, unrecognizable. But still, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

“Who are you? What do you want?” In case he didn't have Michael, you didn't want to say anything right away. As much as you wanted to know where he was, protective instincts demanded that you didn't put him in any more danger.

“You know, you must be really sick in the fucking head, being with him.” Nothing about the statement made sense. Him? Who the hell was he referring to? Did this have something to do with your ex? The two of you had been separated for nearly a year now, the divorce done and over. He was the one who initiated it. Despite the warning, as you thought about what could have brought you here, you continued to wriggle your wrists to try and get free. Footsteps sounded out, moving closer by the second. “That the case? You get off on the shit that he does?” Without warning, your hair was yanked back, forcing your head back, and pain to worsen again. A cry slipped from you before you could stop it. That's when you tasted blood in your mouth. The stickiness on the side of your head had to be blood.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Bullshit!” He used the hold that he had on your hair to force you to your feet, no other choice in the matter to avoid any additional pain. “That fuck killed my friends, tried to kill me. Too bad for him that I survived. Me and my girl. So, now is time for some payback. We came prepared and you are the key to that.” He kept talking like what he was saying was supposed to make sense to you.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” you pleaded, hoping the man would either believe you or at least give you a little more context as to what was going on. If you knew what he was referring to, maybe you could talk your way out of it. Maybe. But if he had kidnapped you and had hurt you, it was likely not something that you could talk your way out of, but you would give it a try.

“You don't know what I'm talking about, huh? Maybe if you see his work then you'll remember. This is your home after all since you're his bitch, isn't it?” He pulled you forward before forcing you to sit down at a table. To your horror, your son was tied up to a seat across from you. Michael seemed to be knocked out, or sleeping. There wasn't any markings that you could see but it still didn't stop the rush of emotions that came over you.

“Listen, you can do whatever you want to me. I don't care. Just….leave him out of it. He's an innocent boy.” You struggled against the hold and the restraints with a renewed vigor. That only pissed the man off further, and the next thing that you knew, you were slammed face down. There was an audible crunch, and blood filled filled your mouth as it poured down from your broken nose. The pain caused your eyes to water and a small sob to escape.

“You think I care about any of that? You're both connected to him, so you both get the same treatment. He needs to know what it's like to lose.” Your heart just about stopped in your chest, despite the dizziness that caused the room to spin around you as your head was yanked back once more. “Now, I think you need a little taste of what my friends and I experienced.” You had no clue what that actually meant, but you knew it wasn't any good. Ears ringing still from the blow to your head, you missed the fact that he stepped away. There was rummaging behind you and then metal hitting metal that made you flinch.

Michael began to stir and your heart leapt into your throat. No. If he saw any of this….

Something rumbled in the distance. The man behind you laughed.

“Right on time.” He cut the restraints on your wrists and yanked one of your hands forward. You struggled against his hold but couldn't break out of it, even as you nearly fell out of the seat. A metal spike was driving through the top of your hand into the table. The pain was jarring. Hot, intense, and overwhelming, causing your vision to blacken at the edges. The scream that came from you was reactionary, a response that couldn't have been controlled and enough to wake up Michael.

“Mommy!” Shit. The nerves were on fire, and it radiated up your arm. Muscles spasmed, causing your fingers to twitch uncontrollably. The man moved towards Michael.

“No, no! Don't touch him!” The words choked through your pained sobs, tearing a raw spot in your throat. Shaky legs held your weight against all odds as you stood up. There was no chance there you could reach across the table and stop whatever was about to happen. Even as you tried, despite the way that it caused sheer agony to yourself. You couldn't let the man touch your son. Even seeing the fingers trail through your son's hair was enough to make your blood boil. “Mike, it's going to be okay, baby.” He was already crying, and you knew that there was only so much you could do to reassure him in the moment. The room wobbled around you, blackness creeping further into the edges of your vision.

He had mentioned something about another person, and the thought came to your attention. Where were they? Potentially others. As in more than one. A scream came from behind you, somewhere in the depths of the barn looking thing that you were in, and it caught his attention. It was a minor miracle that his hands came away from Michael. Though, that relief was short-lived when he produced a pistol from the back of his pants. His attention had been fully pulled away from the two of you. As he moved from the table, you tried to watch him, confirming that he wouldn't look. More screams before he was hollering out names. Ones you didn't care about.

“Michael, baby, I need you to close your eyes, okay? Please, just listen to Mommy. I promise everything is going to be okay.” You needed him not to watch what was about to happen. He nodded, sniffling, but ended up listening to you. Gritting your teeth, you grabbed at the metal spike that was keeping your hand pinned to the table. There was enough, just enough, for you to grab. Biting in the inside of your cheek and on your tongue in an effort to muffle the pained noises, you tried to yank it out. Getting free from the table was imperative to your health. More voices began to sound out, causing your hand to slip. “Shit…”

“Easy there, darling.” You jumped at the sound of the familiar voice, tugging at the wound and causing another cry to slip. “Shit, don’t move.” The warm familiar touch pressed into your lower back, and a low hiss came from the man as he inspected the wound on your hand. He murmured a soft apology and did what you had just attempted to do. His large hand, already covered in blood, dwarfed your own. He made it seem like the spike was nothing. It hurt just as badly as it came out as it had when it had been rammed into your hand. He pulled a rag from a pocket and quickly wrapped it around your hand. If you didn't focus on the movement of his hands, there was a significant risk that you would fall to the floor, feeling the way that your legs shook. His touch was gentle, seemingly going through familiar actions as they never faltered as he wrapped the rag tightly around your hand.

“Need you to listen, okay? Get Michael out of that seat.. Can you do that for me?” You gave a shaky nod, knowing that if you didn't get your son out of the seat, it wouldn't be good for either of you. “Good. Get him out of the seat and then find a spot to hide. I don't want them getting to you again. I'll find you soon, and we'll get you patched up.” His hands cupped your cheeks gently, taking in the bloody mess your face had become. There was something else he wanted to say, the familiar hesitant look coming over his face. Thumbs brushed softly over your cheeks. He had always been gentle with you. They dropped away, and he let you do what was needed.

Rusty watched her shift towards a darkened corner, behind some junk that remained inside the barn. The one place that she should have never been. With her and Michael safe for the time being, he could turn his attention back to the few that remained inside with them. None of them would survive the night. That much was certain. They touched what was his, harmed her, and risked harm to the boy. He had to shift gears quickly once more and go back to the anger that had been present from the moment he had found them missing at the restaurant. He had no doubt that she would have just disappeared on him, and that instinct had been right.

There would be explaining that needed to get done later, but it was hardly a worry. She couldn't go anywhere. There were two of the group already dead. He didn't know how many were left. At least another three, judging by the cars out back and the walkie system that they had set up. He grabbed the spike that had been shoved through her hand and pocketed it before shifting back through the quiet of the old barn. Their downfall? They didn't know every inch of wood like the back of their hand. It was different from anything he had dealt with before since he was worried about the two bodies in the corner rather than focused on wiping out everything that moved. He didn't have time to plan, time to use to his advantage. But it hardly mattered. Improvisation would have to work for now.

Silently, he slipped through the space, fingers curling around an old rusty metal pipe flecked with the blood of previous victims. Rusty paused, careful with the sounds around him. One was close.

Under normal circumstances, there was a sense of enjoyment in the actions. The swinging of fists, the gurgling cries and pleas, the warmth of blood as it soaked his hands and clothes. A sense of poetic justice that he delved out for discretions committed by those that just wouldn't learn otherwise. But this? This was entirely different. The movements were almost autopilot. His focus was getting through the entire ordeal as quickly as possible. He wanted to get back to far more important matters, which were huddled hidden in a corner. Crimson slowly coated hands further, violence unleashed in the brutal manner that left no question of what the outcome would be.

When the last one fell, Rusty let out a huff and glanced down at the body before him. Fucking asshole. He hadn't gotten away this time. The thought brought the realization that he had brought this upon both of the people that mattered the most in his life. Guilt and worry churned in his gut now that the job had been done. The barn could be cleaned up later. He had others to take care of and that would require a hospital given the extent of injuries he had seen.

You shook as you clutched your son to you, trying to cover his ears and shield him from whatever horrors were happening beyond the darkness that concealed the both of you. Adrenaline was wearing off, and the blood loss combined with head trauma had left you feeling woozy. All you could really do was rock your son gently and try to assure him everything was going to be okay through the quiet crying he was doing. Even when it wasn't. There was no way things could be okay. Heavy footsteps came closer to your hiding spot, and you scooted backward, pressed tightly into the tiny corner. It was instinctual that your torso shifted, protecting Michael as much as possible from whatever was about to come.

It was Rusty. The large frame of the man appeared and unconsciously, even though you didn't want to, your body relaxed. He was at the end of the junk pile that you had taken refuge behind.

“It's okay now, darling. Come on. Need you to come on out for me. Okay? Gotta get you, and Michael looked at.” Looked at? The room spun around you, the words sounding further away and more fuzzy by the second. “Sweetheart I…” The rest of the words couldn't be made out, hell, you couldn't keep your eyes open anymore. There was wriggling and the weight against your chest and in your lap vanished. All before the blackness at the corners of your vision seeped inward and overtook everything.

[zarnzarn]

"Hello," Penelope says.

The man in her bed smiles, shadowed in shades of blue and white in the moonlight. It is barely the smile she remembers; she can see slivers of the person she used to know shining like gold in rock, buried in layers of muck, and it is not entirely kind. "Hi."

His voice is changed too. Rougher. Haunted. Without repentance.

She shifts, hands trembling with adrenaline as she reaches for the covers, as she pulls it over both of them. Freshly washed and pampered and cleaned, the man in her bed looks much closer to a king, even with the new lines of stress in his face and the lines of grey in his hair that match her own.

They are done crying. Sins confessed, grief passed.

Penelope stares at him, drinking in the sight. Unbidden, the slight tail she'd inherited from her mother starts beating at the bedcovers gently, as if she were a dog, ears flicking as she looks.

The man laughs, as if it escapes him in the face of her foolishness. "Is that for me?"

"I knew you were coming back," Penelope says instead of a reply, grinning manic and smug. She leans closer, lets her weight fall forward, tilts her head with a smirk.

The man huffs a breath. He leans closer with his own bared teeth, wicked grin. "I knew you were waiting."

Penelope preens, full body rolling with delight, a purr in her throat. Twenty years she's waited to hear it, to know that her faith was matched just as violently, that her poor husband never feared for her leaving. To be told she was a good wife, a good mate- but only from the one she wanted to hear it from.

"Am I what you expected then?" The other rumbles suddenly, hair falling across his forehead. His eyes are no longer the clear bluish-grey he left with- they change colors in the light now, blue and brown and dark; but still grey. More dangerous, sharp and ruthless, unwavering. This is a man to be feared. When all the chosen of Troy had all fallen, the gods could not defeat this one man.

Penelope smiles in the way she'd been taught not to, all of her ancestors' razor-sharp canines on display, her emotions writhing with joy and satisfaction in her chest. Her instincts scream for happiness, that her husband had killed so many for her, soaked his hands in blood so he could hold her with them gently. A freshwater nymph's ideal, and he was all hers.

"Yes," She says, because she had expected him to come home heavy with loss and battle, wounded and scarred. "Better," She purrs as she draws him above her, because he does not regret any of it, and the blood-soaked devotion feels divine. He is fearless about killing now, like Penelope always had been, from when her mother first birthed her in the wilds of the untouched rivers to when she'd taken the neighbouring state's farmers hostage for the harvest because they dared to spread rumors about her rule and her son and her husband, just two weeks before.

He chuckles, canting his head to the side when he pushes himself down with a gasp. It is not the bashful, flustered movements of before, where he would hide behind his hair and coax himself down gently upon her- yet even as he slides himself down upon her like a conqueror, like a hardened general and soldier and king, he still smiles that same shy grin when she places a hand on his cheek to tilt him back, and it seems to shine out from every part of him until all the muck falls away, leaving only the person she knows behind, bright and new.

"Odysseus," She breathes. "My husband."

"A monster," He replies, and she can see the depths of guilt and misery and horror in his eyes. Can see the splash marks of ichor that haven't faded across his collarbones and shoulders, the scars that run through him, the ghost of all those who didn't return behind him.

She laughs. "My love," She counters, and watches it all fold away as Odysseus leans forward to meet her smugness, eyes sparking with starved delight. She will glut him upon her love, her joy, so he never regrets anything he did to make it back to her, to reward him for everything he did. She smirks. "Move."

-

Later, he watches her chest rise and fall, face slack in sleep but lips still curled in a smile, unfearing of whose arms she sleeps in.

Next to his wife, he had said, with all the fury he'd ever had, with the determination of knowing he'd fight the Fates themselves to come back to her, that even if it was prophesized that it wouldn't be him to hold her, he'd still spend every inch of him trying anyway. Knowing that wishing in its success meant dooming Penelope to sleep next to a monster.

He huffs, smiling as he presses light kisses to every part of her skin he can reach, greedy, teeth hidden behind his lips.

(They weren't sharp when he left. His eyes never glowed in the dark.)

Penelope smiles suddenly, awake- sharp, white teeth peeking out from her crooked lips. Her eye is slitted when she cracks one open, shining blue in the darkness. She catches his lips with her own when he next passes her and murmurs at him to close his eyes.

His wife may sleep next to a monster. But he sleeps next to one too.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 119 }

daisy.

yuta okkotsu x fem.reader

warnings: unedited; mentions of s-icidal thoughts; this is a self indulgent mess...

{ let me show you how a kiss should taste | trust me, i won't give your heart away | why you running, running when you've got it right here? | oh i would love you if you let me }

there was something missing in your life; something that was so intangible, yet was still prominent enough that it left a gaping hole within your heart.

love.

back when you were younger, a mere teenager with bright eyes and a hopeful future, you surrounded yourself with close friends. your bubbly personality and little quirks that made you who you were allowed you to experience the joys of first love (and the inevitable heartbreak that came from such a young love).

you had dreams for your future self; dreams that pertained to having a successful career, then settling down to marry the love of your life while building a family of your own.

yet, with each day that passed, your dreams of finding love was quickly becoming stale.

while your friends and peers have all settled down and built a family of their own, you found yourself quickly falling behind. each time you would scroll through your various social media accounts, you were bombarded with your friends' smiling faces with their arms wrapped around their own soulmates.

the sight of witnessing so much love falling all around you left a bitter taste in your mouth and a deep void in your heart. each time you look away from your phone, you would scan the wide expanse of your apartment. you realize how much colder it felt, living alone in such a space.

during the times where your heartache was dialed up to nearly unbearable levels, you swore that such deep loneliness was felt choking you- consuming you whole as you found it was getting harder to breathe sometimes.

perhaps you should just end it all, since it's clear that no one in this world could ever love you.

that raspy voice was whispering in your ear again, bringing forth the innermost darkness of your thoughts. each time you tried to fight it, reminding yourself of the family and friends who did love you-

yet it would all circle back to the gaping hole in your chest.

but no one loves you in the way you desire to be loved.

so give yourself to me. end it all so that i may devour what's left of you whole.

only i can love you as the way you are.

as if hypnotized by the voice, you stiffly stand, moving away from the confines of your bedroom as your phone fell to the ground. it was as though you were running on autopilot; your body now controlled by something else as you opened the door of your apartment and shut it close with almost a robotic movement.

you took a long walk away from your apartment complex, feeling your eyes gloss over at the thought of your pain disappearing for good. that same, raspy voice continues to urge you on, not allowing you to stop until you reached a bridge that held you over the incoming traffic from below.

your eyes take in the railing of the bridge, and you had the sudden urge to climb it, to stand at the very top of the railing whilst on the tip of your toes. an image of you standing with your arms outstretched, barely balancing on the railing was all that took over your mind-

but a sudden force yanking your wrist away, making you nearly fall back against the concrete was what ultimately stops you.

your eyes met with a furious, stormy gaze when you see a flash of a slender metal from your periphery, with your brain registering that it was a blade a mere seconds before it was thrust violently down on you.

with your eyes clenched shut, you wait for the shattering pain of being stabbed to course through you-

but when all you heard was a guttural scream and the sudden sensation of feeling much lighter, you opened your eyes and let out an audible gasp.

although you couldn't see anything, you could feel a heavy weight dissipating from behind you, leaving you alone with the strange man as he continued to hold you in his arms. the fire in his eyes slowly began to dim, leaving behind a deep sapphire gaze that you couldn't look away from.

he smiles while standing back to his full height, still holding you gently within his embrace while apologizing, "sorry for scaring you, miss. are you alright?"

your mind was still hazy, leaving you speechless as you finally took in your surroundings, seeing the bridge and hearing the sounds of traffic coming from below. a sudden memory flashes through you, giving you the image of your form making its descent from the bridge-

tears fill your vision as you looked away from the man you now knew was your savior. "i-i'm sorry, i didn't know what got over me. i d-didn't think i could ever- th-that i ever wanted to-"

a gentle touch against your chin stops you from voicing your thoughts out loud. the same ferocity was seen in his gaze, but somehow, you knew that it wasn't directed at you. "no, that curse was growing stronger, feeding off your feelings of loneliness. none of your actions were your own, so please, don't feel bad."

your expression was filled with confusion, uncertain to what he was talking about. the man seems to sense your bewilderment and simply smile while letting you go.

"my name's okkotsu yuta." he introduces himself with the hopes of distracting you, and you manage to tell him your own name in return.

yuta repeats the syllables that make up your name, the gentle smile was all you could see on his uniquely beautiful features, and you take a step back to admire him. he was donned in a regular hoodie and jeans as he returns his blade within the confines of its sheath that was settled on his left shoulder.

his lips were suddenly pressed into a thin line as he ran a hand through his ebony locks of hair, appearing shy all of a sudden.

"i don't feel comfortable leaving you alone right now so... would you like to grab some coffee with me?"

"oh, i... y-yes?" you stammer out your reply, truly not expecting him to take you anywhere. you could feel the heat painting your cheeks as you take a shaky step forward, only to be caught by your savior.

"here, hold on to me, and i'll take you somewhere nice."

the man ends up interlocking your fingertips together with his, filling you with a warmth that you had not felt in a long time. as you continued to walk by his side, a sudden chill was felt running up and down your spine.

something powerful was lurking behind you, and you felt as though it wanted you deaddeaddead because yuta was all mine and you were just getting in the way.

"yuta?"

he hears the fear in your voice and simply looks behind him, wrapping his arms around you so that you were now pressed against him. his gaze was filled with amusement, yet his words rang clear as you heard him whisper into the night air.

"there's no need for you to feel jealous, rika. you're still my first love, no matter what."

your heart was aching upon hearing his words. so it must be true, all of the best guys in the world were already taken.

the oppressive presence suddenly disappears, and you allowed yourself to relax against him. the walk to the closest coffee shop only lasted a few minutes, with yuta holding the door open for you as you were greeted by the warm and comforting scent of cinnamon and vanilla.

yuta gently leads you to the far corner of the café and kindly asks what you wanted him to order. "it's okay, i'll just have whatever you're having."

he nods and tells you, "i'll be right back." before heading towards the register.

despite how you were still shaken up from the events that transpired just moments ago, you couldn't deny that yuta okkotsu had greatly intrigued you. with his talk about curses and the sheer amount of power he displayed, it was clear that he lived in a world that was much different from your own-

a world that made you wish to get to know it better-

to get to know him better.

so caught up in your thoughts, you actually felt yourself jolt back in response when a steaming hot cup of coffee was settled in front of you, with the cream settled on top of it shaped in a cute heart. the sight of it was enough to make you giggle, "okkotsu, this is too cute to drink."

"yuta, call me yuta." was his simple reply as he sat across from you with his own coffee in hand. he continues to give you that same, sweet smile before sliding over some pastries towards you. "go ahead and eat. you need something after what happened."

you could feel your cheeks heat up once more at his sudden request for you to refer him by his first name, wishing to distract yourself from feeling so strange and giddy while sitting beside him. "so do you already have a girlfriend? who's rika?"

you wanted to ask him directly, to crush any form of hope from forming within the depths of your heart as you bit into a chocolate croissant, not quite tasting just how delicious it was as your heart continued to pound with anticipation.

what ends up surprising you was how a sheepish expression paints his features, a light pink blush was settled against his cheeks when he slowly begins to explain everything.

like how he was actually a sorcerer who could see the physical manifestation of negative human emotions- the curses.

and how when he was a little boy, his childhood friend and first love had died in an accident, and his will for her to live was so strong that it bound her to him in a form of a powerful curse that still loved him to this day.

and how he continues his work as a sorcerer, now as a young adult-

and how he had followed you because the heartache and loneliness that exuded from you made you so so lovely in his eyes that he became captivated by you.

and the moment you passed by him was when he could see the wisps of darkness wrapped around your form as your curse nearly drove you to your own demise; the way he knew he had to destroy that curse before your life would be taken in an instance.

"i-it's strange, but i never told anyone all of this upon first meeting before." yuta's voice was shaky, and it was clear that he was trying to hide just how vulnerable he was behind an all too wide smile. "but, something about you makes me feel like...like i don't wanna lie or hide anything from you."

his sudden confession had you reeling, feeling dizzy and overwhelmed with an emotion you had never felt before the more you held his gaze.

but he simply smiles, taking a hold of your hand that was currently resting against the table. yuta opens his mouth a few times, as if wanting to say something else, but ends up sighing, "i'm glad i was able to save you."

your smile mirrors his own, and you could feel something taking root within your heart, slowly filling up that void when you tell him, "me too."

{ ... }

you couldn't describe what your relationship was with yuta, all you knew was that you never wanted him to leave your side.

roughly 3 months had passed since that incident with what you now knew was your curse, and yuta became the most stable presence within your life. after work, you would go back home to your apartment and meet up with yuta as he filled your once lonely nights with happiness.

today was your day off, and you decided to sleep in and treat yourself with a full night's rest. in your arms were a few of your favorite plushies, with their achingly cute features and soft forms taking up a good portion of your queen-sized mattress. yuta would chuckle and tease you about your stuffed animals, but you would simply pout shove him away from you, telling him that these were your babies and that you would always love them.

you were in a deep sleep when a series of harsh ringing and knocks were heard at your door, breaking you away from your pleasant dreams as a plushie fell out of your arms and into the floor. you groan and stumble out of bed, grumbling out an apology to your precious plush while pressing a kiss against its soft face before going to answer the door.

your plush was still in your hand when you opened the door, coming face to face with yuta himself. he chuckles once more, seeing you holding the cute stuffie while fondly ruffling up your bed hair. "hey sleepyhead, i heard that it's your day off and was wondering if you wanted to go out?"

a playful groan escapes from your parted lips, "but i wanted to sleep in some more...!"

cue yuta letting out a scoff, "sleep in? it's already 12 in the afternoon!" he ushers you back into your apartment, "hurry up and get ready. come on, i know you must be starving."

you sigh in agreement, "okay okay, i'll be back in 30 minutes." and despite how you had a look of annoyance on your face, you couldn't deny how excited you felt at the thought of spending the day with yuta.

with your bed made and your babies all in place, ready to welcome you the moment you came home, you got dressed and grabbed your phone and bag. yuta was still waiting for you on the couch, and when he sees you stepping out of your room, he smiles, "are you ready?"

"yes, now let's go, you were right. i am starving."

as always, yuta takes a hold of your hand, interlocking your fingers together as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

what am i to you?

you wanted desperately for yuta to feel the same about you, but ever since the night he has saved you, his true feelings remained unclear. it seemed like he was keeping you at an arms length away, yet his kindness and never-ending patience was what made your heart sing for him.

for all the times yuta has showed up at your apartment, he had succeeded in pushing those feelings of loneliness away. yuta filled your days with light, and you found yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with him.

but, you were so afraid of ruining what you already had with him; of scaring him away with the intensity of your emotions. you had never loved nor wanted someone so deeply before; the feelings coursing through you becoming so palatable that you had thoughts of chaining yuta to you-

and he did not deserve such a suffocating love.

"we're here."

yuta's voice was heard, and you finally break away from your intrusive thoughts to see that he had taken you to your favorite restaurant, a place where you only ate on celebratory occasions because it was a bit pricey.

"w-wait, are you sure? this place isn't at all cheap-"

"i know that, but i don't care, and you deserve something nice."

by now, your heart was singing, basking in the sheer amount of love that you held for him as your gaze softened. you gave his hand a gentle squeeze, feeling him do the same in return.

"thank you, yuta."

he simply gives you a smile in return, but you could see something shining brightly within his deep blue gaze. before you could question it, yuta was already leading you into the restaurant.

you spent the next couple of hours enjoying your lunch with yuta, eating your favorite meal while talking about work and the plans you had for the rest of the week. it was just so easy to be with yuta like this that you found yourself not minding it if he truly didn't return your feelings.

because why would you ever wish to ruin something that was already so perfect within your eyes?

so, you fight back those selfish thoughts of wanting yuta's heart, going along with your day filled with smiles as you basked in the sounds of yuta's laughter. even though you had finished lunch, you still wanted to spend the day together, with the afternoon sun at its peak as it painted the world in brighter hues.

you were just walking around the city when the sight of something bright blue and yellow settled behind a glass window catches your attention. with a gasp, you ran towards the quaint little gift shop, seeing a large, blue penguin settled against the glass as your heart melted at the sight.

"oh yuta, look! look how cute he is!" you hear yuta's soft chuckle as he stands directly behind you.

you were cooing, heart absolutely stolen by such a cute plush as you made a mental note to come back here and get him. you spend a few more seconds admiring the cute penguin before reluctantly turning away from the window display.

"sorry about that, yu, let's go back home- eh?"

you look behind you to see that yuta was already gone, leaving you in a panicked state. "yuta?! yu-"

the sounds of bells chiming alerts you to the door opening from the gift shop, revealing yuta with a large bag in his hand. he was silent, still smiling at you when he stands by your side, beckoning you to take the bag.

"yuta, you didn't..."

yuta shrugs in response, still not saying anything.

"b-but you paid for our lunch, and it was expensive, too."

again, he shrugs, "what can i say? i'll do anything to make you happy."

his voice takes on a hoarser tone, looking away from you as you took the precious penguin out of the bag. you see its cute features looking up at you and hold it tightly against your chest.

"thank you..."

your heart was beating wildly now, feeling yuta silently taking a hold of your hand as you made your way back home. you kept repeating his words over and over again, but decided to distract yourself in hopes of keeping your sanity intact.

"i'm so happy i've got a new baby today."

you hear the sounds of yuta's light laughter, "why do you call them your babies?"

"h-huh, what do you mean?"

you and yuta had stopped walking, with yuta scrunching up his nose a bit. he gently pinches at the penguin's chubby face, "these plush dolls, whenever i tease you about them, you sometimes get defensive and call them your babies... why is that?"

you felt your heart ache once again as you hid your face within the penguin's soft body. "i don't wanna tell you."

"huh? why not?"

"because it's embarrassing, and you're gonna laugh at me." you whine to him, feeling your cheeks heat up at the thought of telling him.

yuta begins to chuckle even more, attempting to hide his smile beneath the palm of his hand. "i'm not gonna laugh at you."

"you're laughing at me now...!"

"not true, i'm laughing with you."

letting out a groan, you continue to hold your penguin within your embrace. "i guess you're not willing to let this one slide, are you?"

"nope." yuta's smile was so carefree, and you knew that he wouldn't judge you for telling him.

with a sigh, you continue to hold on to your penguin tightly, "i like to think of them as my babies because i know... no one will love me enough to truly have kids."

"it's always been my dream to find the love of my life and build a family with them, but here i am, getting older with each day that passes, a-and still, no one wishes to share their life with me."

you could feel the familiar sensation of tear welling up in your eyes, and you didn't wish for yuta to see them. "s-sorry, that got a little too deep without me meaning to do it! i'm gonna head home first...!"

not even bothering to acknowledge yuta's cry of your name, you held on tightly to your penguin plush and weave across the streets. the tears were already streaming down your face, and you truly did not wish for yuta to see you in this state.

you were so close to telling yuta how much you wanted him to fill that void and become the man of your dreams. when you thought that you could live with just being his friend alone, he ends up messing up your heart and making you yearn for him once more with his kindness-

and you couldn't take it anymore.

your legs were trembling when you managed to return back to your apartment, the tears not stopping as you held your plush close to you with your door within reach. as you rummaged through your bag for your keys, your shakiness makes you drop them on the ground.

the way your tears blurred your vision made it hard for you to see, but you didn't have to worry for long when a familiar pale hand was seen picking it up. the sounds of your door unlocking was heard, and you felt a hand pressed against your back, coaxing you inside.

mortification was coursing through your veins, but you allowed yuta inside of your apartment. the tears were still streaming from your eyes, falling like droplets of rain against your hardwood floors. you refused to look at him, feeling him take your penguin away from the vicegrip you had on it.

he says your name, the syllables breaking ever so slightly as the pain in his voice catches your attention, finally making you face him when yuta dives in and seals your lips in a kiss.

a broken gasp was all you could manage, and yuta takes advantage of the sound when he slides his tongue in to get a taste of you, swallowing your moans of his name as you eagerly kissed him back. your hands were automatically in his hair, and you eagerly basked in the heat of his body, never once moving away from him with your lips still locked with his.

when the need for air proved to be too much was when yuta pulled away from you, but just barely. "i can't hold back anymore." yuta's hot breath was felt against your skin, his lips clearly aching to kiss you once more as he continued to breathe heavily against you, "i wanted to talk this slow- god, i wanted to take this so slow, but you being so damn cute just makes me want to tie you to me as i scream my devotion to you to the heavens."

your knees became weak as you slumped against him, allowing yuta to hold you in his arms as he takes you to your couch. he settles back against the seat, placing you on his lap as you were straddling his waist. he keeps repeating your name over and over again, like a reverent prayer while tracing his lips against the skin of your neck.

"you have no idea how much i want you- how much i have loved you from the start. from the moment i saved you, you have always been on my mind." he takes a hold of your hair, moving them away to press lingering kisses against the side of your neck. "i love you, there isn't anything i wouldn't do for you, so if it's a future you wish to build, why not build it with me?"

when he was satisfied with peppering your skin with kisses, yuta meets your gaze with a smile, holding you within his embrace as his hands drew circles against your back, "if you wish to find someone to share your life with you, then why run away when i'm right here?"

"oh yuta...!" filled with such a raw love for the man that held you in his arms, you kiss him once more, unable to help yourself as you began to smile against his lips, "i-i have always loved you, too... ever since the moment i first laid eyes on you, i knew that i never wanted to be with anyone else. b-but, those feelings, i have never felt them before. and truly, i-i was afraid of suffocating you with the love i felt for you."

yuta's sweet laughter fills your ears once more, and you allow your pliant form to lean back when he captures you in his embrace, allowing the tip of his nose to meet with yours in a sweet gesture, "you don't need to worry about me, because i crave for that type of love. you don't need to hold back, so feel free to suffocate me all you want."

as you basked in yuta's promises of forever, you continued to laugh with him throughout the night, already looking forward to whatever the future may hold-

with him by your side.

{ and i would take the light out of the stars to help you see... anything to guide you straight to me. }

a.n. - i have missed writing for yuta so much, and felt so inspired seeing him carry jjk both in the anime and manga. i'm sorry if this isn't my best work, but i hope you readers enjoy it all the same 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[dchan87]

A year ago today, Hamas butchered 1,200 Israelis, triggering a war in Gaza and another one across Western institutions, campuses, and social media. At American Dreaming, we’ve extensively covered the discourse post-10/7, from the depraved joy the “decolonize” left felt at news of Jews being slaughtered, to the obscene double standards imposed on Israel, to the explosion of full-blown leftist anti-Semitism. We’ve published articles about the young progressives who hate Biden and love bin Laden, the disturbing redefinition of “genocide”, and the absolutely unhinged Western pro-Palistinian activist movement. And after a year of discourse, one thing has been made crystal clear: the political left has an anti-Semitism problem. Everywhere I looked, over these past 12 months, far-left protestors not only tolerated but actively propagated centuries-old anti-Semitism, including celebrating the October 7th massacre and even praising Hitler. It was equal parts disgusting and confusing. How could a movement that, in theory, is supposed to oppose bigotry and racism have so openly embraced it? How did we end up with left-wingers attacking synagogues, creating lists of Zionists, canceling events with “Zionist” participants, defacing Anne Frank memorials, and protesting Israel outside of Auschwitz? How could only half of young adults, by far the most left-leaning age group, disagree with the statement “The Holocaust is a myth”? How did we get to a place where good progressives openly display swastikas, tell Jews to go back to Europe, express the desire to gas them, and perform Hitler salutes? The rhetoric was much the same as it had been for centuries: that Jews are violent, bloodthirsty, imposters — not even Semitic, but a bunch of Europeans playing pretend. Demonstrators held signs with a Star of David in a trash can next to the words “Keep the world clean.” Classic anti-Semitic tropes like the blood libel resurfaced. All of this happened within far-left movements, who now sound eerily like the far right. It’s no wonder that far rightists blend right in at pro-Palestine protests. But why? Integral to the left’s worldview, elaborate theory aside, is solidarity with the underprivileged, be it the poor, ethnic minorities, LGBT people, etc. Logically, the left should be sympathetic to the Jewish people, given their long history of persecution. At a glance, there should be no reason for the hard left to behave functionally the same as neo-Nazis. And yet they do. 

Sadly, anti-Semitism, as one of humanity's oldest hatreds, has never been confined to any one ideology. To understand the history of left-wing anti-Semitism, we must first look back to before the concept of the political “left” even existed.

An Extremely Brief History of Anti-Semitism

In 132 CE, during the apex of Roman imperial power, the Bar Kokhba revolt broke out in the troublesome Roman-controlled province of Judea. Emperor Hadrian solved it with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. In an outright genocidal war, he utterly crushed Jewish resistance, slaughtering large numbers of Jewish civilians and devastating many towns and villages. The destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE tends to be more remembered by Jews themselves as the beginning of the diaspora, but the events of 135 were when the Jews truly lost their homeland. Although a small population remained, most fled throughout the Middle East or Europe. 

Hadrian’s actions were not anti-Semitic per se — Rome was just as brutal to any rebellious subject — but it set the Jews up as a people without a land, a people with nowhere to go whose religion and customs made them visibly other. With the rise of Christianity, the relative religious tolerance typical to polytheistic societies faded away, and the Jews faced constant oppression, at best living as second-class citizens. Of course, Christians have a long history of treating their fellow devotees with murderous contempt if they happen to be the wrong kind of Christian. The massacres of the First Crusade that included Christians as well as Muslims and Jews, the expulsion of Protestants from France, the bloody Anglo-Irish conflict, the Anglican church's persecution of Puritans, and so on. Now imagine what it would mean to openly belong to another faith, one deemed heretical by the Church, the supreme arbiter of morality.

Jews were widely barred from “honest” work — leaving niches in fields considered less savory, like money lending, clerking, pawnbroking, and lawyering. Making the most of the niche they had been forced into by these discriminatory laws — although far from all Jews did such work — led in turn to the stereotype of Jews as greedy, bloodsucking parasites who hated and exploited honest Christians, which, of course, led to even more persecution. Jewish populations were expelled from countries multiple times, or faced savage butchery. There were the brutal Rhineland Massacres of the First Crusade in 1096 CE that saw 800 Jews killed, and expulsion from England in 1290, from France in 1306, and from Spain in 1492. It was a vicious cycle of violent intolerance. 

The More Things Change, the More They Stay the Same

In the late 1700s, the birth of European liberalism changed everything. The French Revolution and Napoleon both offered a greater level of religious tolerance toward Jews, making new inroads toward coexistence. After Napoleon’s downfall, despite a rightward reaction, Europe slowly began to liberalize, incorporate Enlightenment values, and move toward democracy. By and large, Jewish people naturally drifted leftward — the monarchist right wing of the 1800s was no friend to them. When socialism made strides decades later, Jews were an influential part of the movement, such as the Bund, a socialist Jewish party in Russia. 

At the same time, many Jews were understandably fed up with the still-rampant anti-Semitism in Europe, and started to dream of returning to their ancestral homeland, and so began the seeds of modern Israel. 

So far, Jews seemed like natural allies to the left, as an oppressed, marginalized underdog if ever there was one. But anti-Semitism is a powerful, deeply rooted force. Vladimir Lenin forcibly dissolved the Bund in 1921, and all those who did not join the Communist Party were forced to flee abroad or face persecution. It only got worse under Stalin, who systematically eradicated Jewish influence wherever he could find it. His Doctors Plot, in which Stalin invented false charges of treason and espionage toward nine doctors, seven of them Jewish, resembled nothing so much as a classic anti-Semitic purge. Indeed, between 1939 and 1941, the Soviet secret police deported tens of thousands of Jews to Siberia and Kazakhstan. Despite Marxism’s pretensions to antiracism, Soviet anti-Semitism, from Party leadership down to the common comrade, was pervasive, and often intertwined “anti-Zionism” with negative stereotypes about Jews.

It was not until after the Holocaust had been exposed to the world that anti-Semitism finally began to become unfashionable, as humanity took a cold, hard look at the logical conclusion to such hatred. But anti-Semitism did not disappear from either end of the political spectrum.

In the 1960s, James Baldwin explained the pronounced anti-Semitism among the black community in the US, which he tied to attitudes of anti-whiteness and an oppressor/oppressed mindset. In the 1970s, influenced by Soviet propaganda, which relentlessly demonized Zionism and Jews, the Australian Union of Students, dominated by young Trostkyites and Maoists, began following suit on Australian university campuses. When Jewish groups protested, they were physically assaulted.

The ferocious “anti-Zionism” of the Western “New Left” was widely seen as a cover for Jew hatred. In Germany, far-left groups in the 1960s and 70s celebrated the deaths of Israeli civilians in terrorist attacks, engaged in anti-Semitic violence, and schemed to bomb a synagogue. In the famous 1976 Entebbe Raid — in which pro-Palestine terrorists hijacked an Air France plane at gunpoint, then released the non-Jewish and non-Israeli passengers to hold the Israelis and Jews hostage — two of the hijackers were German leftists.

Today’s left ought to be unburdened by such bigotries, at least in theory. Unlike their forebears from previous eras, they did not grow up in a social environment where racism was normal and casual prejudice ubiquitous. The average modern far-leftist is highly educated, affluent, and conscious of systemic biases. They ought to know better. So why don’t they?

Like any complex phenomenon, it has no single explanation. Unlike the far right, which has anti-Semitism encoded into its ideological genetics, leftism is not inherently anti-Semitic. But in true horseshoe fashion, they nevertheless end up in the same place.

The Horseshoe of Anti-Semitism

First, the political far left shares an uncomfortable number of basic assumptions about reality with the far right. Both believe that:

A class of moneyed elites control the government, and democracy is a sham maintained by these vaguely defined, malicious elites.

Proper far-left or far-right beliefs (depending) would naturally take root in society if not for an aggressive campaign of materialist propaganda pushed by these shady elites to distract the masses from realizing their true destiny.

Their cause is one that is so vital and so obviously true that any approach to further it is legitimate, whether that means lying, propagandizing, or committing violence.

The liberal West is evil, degenerate, cruel, and exploitative, and must be crushed at all cost to realize this vision.

This antisocial, conspiratorial worldview is inherent to the far left, to a greater or lesser degree. Name a popular myth about how the West is evil, and a leftist will believe it — whether it’s that the US invaded Iraq to steal oil, or that all Western economies are built purely on the exploitation of developing countries, or that our media and government is controlled by sinister three-letter organizations. Such a mindset is incredibly vulnerable to conspiracy theory — and all conspiracy theories ultimately come back to anti-Semitism. 

If you believe the government is controlled by moneyed elites and that the evil force of Zionism has its claws deep in the US government, then the leftist is already 90 percent of the way to being in full agreement with the Nazi. This is how we get university lecturers saying, “Zionists are straight Babylon swine [...] Zionism is beyond a mental illness; it’s a genocidal disease.” It’s how we get progressive screenwriters complaining that “the entertainment industry is ran [sic] by Zionists.” It’s how you get left-wing musicians like Eric Clapton saying, “Israel's running the show, running the world.”

Israel-Palestine is a Uniquely Sore Issue

Second, Israel-Palestine is singularly inflammatory. It takes every problematic tendency the far left already has — shallow performativity, radicalism, narcissism, subordinating truth to ideology, and viciousness toward perceived opponents — and dials it up to eleven. Palestine offers the leftist a classic oppressor-oppressed binary, one that fits the Marxist image of the world perfectly: a cruel, settler-colonialist nation, brutally oppressing a native population, neatly including a white-vs-brown layer of oppression. It also offers a religious layer, where Israel is painted as both a theocracy and a fascistic ethnostate no different from Nazi Germany.

Of course, there are many facts that one must ignore to believe these things. One must ignore that Israel began with legal land purchases, and that among both Israelis and Palestinians you can find people passing for white as well as people who would not. One must ignore that anti-Semitism is on the rise, and that 48 percent of Israel is of Mizrahi (meaning Middle Eastern) origin. One must ignore that Israel is a democracy with Arabs in its parliament, and that the Palestinians harbor many deeply regressive, misogynist, and homophobic values out of touch with modern progressivism.

The Left is Just Too Successful, But Still Needs a Revolution

Third, modern leftism is no longer the struggling worker’s movement it began as. In the early 1900s, the left struggled with real, material problems, such as genuinely unfair wages and labor power imbalances in which employers held all the cards. Protesting for better pay, fewer hours, and more benefits and vacation were real, concrete improvements to fight for. But with these and other battles won — with an eight-hour workday and five-day workweek, with vacation and sick days taken for granted, with LGBT acceptance and racial equality both legally enshrined and culturally mainstream, the modern left had to pivot. Their crusades became less about tangible change in the face of injustice, and more about an opportunity to display righteousness by advancing an incredibly shallow worldview divided between the morally pure and the wicked, with no in-betweens. The ethos of no bad tactics, only bad targets thereby became bad tactics and bad targets.

Jews Just Aren’t Oppressed Enough

Finally, the far left is captured by a narrative in which the underprivileged are the center of attention. There is a foundational leftist belief that the world right now is not only terrible, but actively getting worse due to capitalist exploitation. In this understanding of the world, everything is defined by class struggle between the wealthy, parasitic capitalists, and their victims, the workers, whose labor is exploited for pennies, deliberately keeping the lower classes down. 

When taken to its logical end, we are left with a movement that resents success. So where do Jews fit into this? Well, from this grievance-focused, eternally victimized perspective, the Jewish people are just a bit too white, a bit too financially successful, and a bit too well-integrated to be seen as truly oppressed. Rather they are seen as oppressors. Just as Asians are now “helping white supremacy” because they’re more financially successful than other groups on average, Jews are just not persecuted enough. The far left resents success, and the Jews have shown extraordinary perseverance in their achievements. Indeed, the archetypal Jewish businessman, lawyer, or doctor fits perfectly into the petit-bourgeoisie stereotype the far left so intensely loathes.

What’s left is a movement deeply committed to performative role-playing while eschewing achievable goals, pragmatism, and principles. It’s a dreadful state of affairs. There ought to be room for a left-of-center movement to express a sane pro-Palestinian worldview, but it’s been hijacked by radicals who are as ignorant as they are venomous. Any healthy, open society requires a variety of perspectives represented, but they need to be rooted in reality — not collective guilt, group resentment, and unhinged conspiracism punctuated with Hitler salutes.

In the span of one year, the anti-Zionist far left has done serious and lasting damage to themselves. If they are to avoid becoming simply an inverted variant of neo-Nazism, utterly fringe and dismissed, they must reckon with and expel their radicals, not celebrate them. Is protesting Israel worth trafficking in old anti-Semitic tropes? Is it worth lowering yourself to the level of a fascist? Is it worth an entire political movement with over two hundred years of history? Because if things continue as they are, the left will be left behind, with all sane and decent people having shied away in disgust. Perhaps that’s one faint silver lining of this past year, that the radical left have lunged toward their far-right counterparts on the great trash heap of history. It’s where they belong.