#all this is part of those thoughts but I needed to scream into the void NOW

[butterflysnowflake]

man can I just say how adorable Wolf's interaction with Delia in the wedding scene is? When she's explaining her situation he gives her the most understanding looks and it's because they both effectively had the same cause of death. Delia turned her mourning of Charles into part of her performance art, and died from being scammed with asps who were NOT defanged. Wolf wanted to deliver the most authentic performance possible and died from presumably a negligent armorer who didn't bother to check if the grenade was live or not before shooting. both of them were quite literally killed by their art (not by their own faults to be fair but from someone else's irresponsibility). and it's kind of lovely Delia got such a sympathetic escort back to the netherworld who knows her situation firsthand probably better than anyone else

it's weirdly wholesome and empathetic even as their situations were both played for morbid laughs, and if Delia didn't have eyes only for Charles (what's left of him) and Wolf wasn't in a committed relationship with Janet I'd even say I could have seen things going somewhere between them

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Inside｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

You’ve never been raw-dogged and filled before, Simon wants to change that

Warnings: SMUT, mentions of drinking and eating food from the ground, power imbalance, unprotected sex, creampie (obvi), clothed man/unclothed woman, a little ass smacking, cockwarming, bit of an ownership kink and possessive!Ghost, lots of swearing WC: 2k Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Stakeouts were boring on the best of days, but add in the fact that your partner for the foreseeable future was a brick wall who absolutely refused to make any sort of conversation, you were dying. If you had been stationed with Gaz or Soap, hell even Price, you could have had some entertainment as you sat on the metal folding chair and watched an empty apartment.

But Ghost was nothing if not exceedingly capable of subverting your expectations.

“You ever try buzzballz?” You shifted on your seat, trying to get your numb ass to wake up.

Simon didn’t even look at you.

“Thought not. You’re more of a bourbon guy or beer, but that’s kinda lame.” He grunted under his breath, you took that as affirmation. “Anyways, after that last mission, Soap somehow got his grubby hands on a few of the big ones which are the equivalent of like 12 shots and I’m telling you, they were fucking florescent blue. My tongue was stained the next day.”

He reached for the pack of chewing tobacco in his vest pocket, an unfortunate solution to not being able to go for a smoke any time he needed to. You unconsciously watched his gloved fingers poke through the pocket before catching yourself and turning back to the grimy window you had been previously staring out of.

“But I don’t even know what was in those drinks because suddenly, it’s midnight and this fucker is telling me about how creampies are the best feeling in the world. And I know we’re teammates and we’ve literally seen each other naked in those communal showers on base but somehow that was just a step too far y’a know.” You don’t notice the way your companion stiffened.

“And it was totally gross! Like I have seen that man scarf a sausage that had been on the ground for god knows how long so I can’t imagine that getting creampied would be that pleasant if he’s so obsessed with it. I just can’t even imagine the cleanup either! It would be-“

“’S nice.”

Your head snapped to look over at Ghost so quickly that your neck popped. “What.”

He cleared his throat, brown eyes still staring straight ahead though you suspected he wasn’t looking for the target. “Said ’s nice, cummin’ in someone I mean.” Your face must’ve been shocked as all hell because he finally looked at you, his already dark eyes now voids behind the skull mask. “Feels good. Really fuckin good.”

Heat exploded across your cheeks, his voice was deeper than it normally was, with a rasp that went directly to your center. 

“I’ve never…” 

He huffed under his breath something akin to a laugh, it was almost mocking. “Figured.”

You forced yourself to look back out the window, even as the thrumming between your legs got worse with every tension-filled second that passed. Ghost was as sexy as he was mysterious; towering over everyone in your squad, there was no question the man was big and you, in some demented part of your brain, wondered if it was proportional. You had never even seen his face but it was often his voice, his hands, that fueled your late night fantasies alone in your bunk.

And you suspected that he knew, especially right now.

“Gets so hot, and tight, feels like your markin ‘er from the inside. Ya keep yourself in as deep as possible as she’s fightin cause it’s too much, but ya keep going.” You tried to swallow down the lump in your throat, but instead it slipped quietly from your lips— a whimper sliced through the dingy apartment, and Simon kept talking.

“Ya go till it hurts, fucking it back in and then yer ready to go again… and again… till she can’t even scream anymore. and you’ve stained the sheets beneath you” You gripped the material of your pants so tightly, they would rip if you suddenly jerked. He must’ve known what he was doing to you, but nothing about the way he was slumped down in his own chair, eyes forward, fingers lazily tracing the seam of his kevlar vest said ‘I want to fuck you into the ground too’.

“I could show ya, not much else to do right now.” Your breath caught as he laid a large hand onto your plump thigh, well that definitely screamed it. 

“Lt-“

“I’ll keep watch, you just need to bounce. You’ll be good and do that fer me won’t you soldier, so I can show you how good it feels.” Like a trance had come over you, you rose from the seat, your fingers flying to the buckle of your belt as Simon’s hand curved around to the fat of your ass.

“You sure it’ll feel good?” His mask remained blank but the way his grip on you tightened and his thick thighs spread told you everything you needed to know. 

“Why are you questioning me when I gave you an order, soldier?” His own belt popped open with a clink and the zipper of his fly slid down, letting you catch a glimpse of what you had been craving so badly. 

“Sorry sir.” The words were spit out just like they had been trained to, earning a slightly less displeased huff from your superior. You kicked off your already unlaced boots having undone them the moment you got into the apartment and soon your pants and panties joined the ever-growing pile of your clothes.

“And the top.” He growled, squeezing the mass of his cock. “Doing this fer you, remember.” You nodded and yanked off the t-shirt you were all-too-glad to get rid of, leaving you standing before him just in your ratty sports bra that did very little to contain your tits.

Simon’s breath shuddered before he gestured to the thick material. “Yessir.” You threw it to the side, finally leaving yourself bare to his molten gaze. Your arms itched to cover the expanse of your curves but your mind refused to disobey, even as the man before you froze save for the heaving of his massive chest.

He studied every inch of you, from the seam where your thighs met to the plushness of your plump stomach, from your strong arms to the way your tits sat just waiting for his touch. You watched with the keen eye of a sniper as his bare forearm tensed and released, the tendons working as he squeezed himself over the material of his pants.

“Can we start sir?” You dared to ask, half-expecting an immediate rejection, but he just chuffed and pulled himself from the open fly.

“Damn impatient thing.” To say he was big was an insult— he was monstrous. Thick and uncut with a dense thatch of hair that you knew would scrape against your clit perfectly when he was buried to the hilt inside of you. A bead of hazy liquid builds on the very tip of his substantial length and you wondered briefly how white-hot it would feel when it was inside of you.

“Gettin’ cold here soldier.” His thighs spread apart even wider, enticing you to come closer. You wanted to ask if it would even fit but you doubted it would make a difference. 

The muscles of his shoulders just barely gave way as you gripped onto them, your nails digging in deep as you swung a leg over his bulky hips, settling onto his lap. His cock rested between you, nestled against the softness of your cunt, getting wetter with your combined arousal. His eyes sparkled while he watched you slowly get comfortable with the feel of him.

“C’mon angel, don’t have all day. Price ’s coming to relieve us at 0300 and I’ll need at least two rounds outta you.” You were jolted forwards by his leg shoving you up, making you hover over his head.

Shoving a shaking hand between your bodies, you took ahold of him and lined him up with your dripping entrance. A worried breath escaped you and then, you sank down, swallowing him whole. 

“Fuuuuuuck.”He hissed through his teeth while all words vanished from your mind. It burned and ripped through you but nothing had ever felt as good as this, like his cock was perfectly tailored to fill you up just the way you needed it. Simon’s hands flew to your wide hips, gripping them with just force that you knew there would be ugly-looking bruises you’d have to explain away later.

His hips canted up, unable to stop himself from forcing himself even deeper, chasing the tightness of your cunt. “Si.” You sighed, head falling to the crook of his neck, earning you another punch upwards.

“Takin’ it so fuckin well, knew you fuckin would. Made fer my fuckin cock weren’t ya. Shoulda done this the first time ya looked at me with those fuckin eyes.” His accent grew deeper with every thrust, his words getting more and more unintelligible as your joint pleasures mounted.

You slammed your hips down with as much force as you could muster, desperately trying to meet his brutal pace, earning a muffled groan of approval. A gloved palm met your bare ass with a harsh slap, forcing a loud moan from you. 

“That’s it angel. Just needed to be properly fucked didn’t ya? All quiet now, my perfect little soldier.” Your teeth sank into his neck as the knot in your stomach wound tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable. “So close ain’t ya, need that little bit more.”

“Please Si, please.” He immediately shoved your legs further apart to fit his hand between you, the pads of his index and middle fingers finding your throbbing clit as his cock hammered against your g-spot.

With only two jerky circles, you shattered above him. You back bowed as your forced yourself down to the hilt, you pussy rippling around him while Simon struggled to fuck you through your high. 

“Gonna make me cum angel. Gonna show you how good it fuckin feels to be filled.” His thrusts grew sloppy but his words continued to spill out of his mouth almost involuntarily at this point. “Mark you as fuckin mine.” He snarled.

Your body shook with the power of him, it took all your strength just to take it, let him use and fill you. His cock started to twitch inside of you threateningly. You wanted him to do it, to prove to you how good it felt to be owned from the inside.

“Cum inside, wanna feel all of you.” Your lips brushed against where his ear was beneath the mask, your breath sending goosebumps all over his body. “Make me yours.”

His muscles seized below your palms, rippling and moving so beautifully that you never wanted it to end. He buried himself all the way inside you as he let out a beautiful, raspy moan. Heat exploded deep inside of you, spreading through your veins like a hot bath on a cold winter's day. The feeling of his so deep within you as his cock began to soften was unlike anything you had experienced before and suddenly you knew why the Scot was so obsessed with it.

Simon finally went limp below you, though made no move to remove you from his lap nor your cunt from around his cock. You settled against his chest, now overly aware of your nakedness and the fact that he was still fully clothed, including that stupid skull mask, though you weren’t wholly opposed to it. His arms encircled you, jerking you a bit as he did something behind your back before he hugged you close.

“Look at me angel.” Your hazy gaze turned upwards, meeting the intoxicating brown of his irises. A now bare hand cupped the fat of your cheek, his thumb coming to rest on the curve beneath your eye. “We’re doing this again, over and over until even Soap-“ He spat his name like it was an insult, “-knows exactly who ya belong to. You’re gonna always be dripping with me. Understood?”

“Yes sir.” You murmured, exhaustion closing in on you.

“Good girl. Now get some shut eye, ain’t done with you yet.”

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Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

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[bearforcecaptions]

I always wished I had a neighbor more like me. Living here felt like I was trapped behind glass — close enough to see everyone, but never quite part of it. Most people kept their distance. And the one person who didn’t? My neighbor across the street — a massive, musclebound military guy who stomped around in full gear like he was still on active duty. Always shouting into his phone, working out in the driveway. We had nothing in common. I barely even waved hello.

One night, feeling lonelier than usual, I muttered under my breath, "I just wish I had a neighbor more like me." I didn’t think anything of it. Just a passing thought. But the world must’ve been listening.

When I woke up, everything was wrong.

First thing I noticed was the weight of the dog tags clinking against my chest. I sat up, disoriented, and the bed creaked under my heavier frame. I looked down — I was wearing only a pair of tight black boxer briefs. And my body... Thick, heavy muscles bulged under my skin, veins tracing over biceps the size of softballs. My stomach was a carved six-pack, my legs like stone columns. Tattoos wrapped around my shoulders and arms — sharp black ink I didn’t remember getting.

I opened my mouth to shout, to ask what was happening — but instead, out came a calm, deep voice: "Situation normal. Good to go." I clamped my hand over my mouth, heart hammering against my ribs. This wasn’t right.

I stumbled out of bed — bare feet slapping the floor — and nearly tripped over a neatly stacked pile of folded camo fatigues. I rushed to the bathroom, gripping the doorframe like it might disappear.

The man staring back at me in the mirror was a stranger. Square-jawed, military haircut, a body like it was carved from granite. Hardened, disciplined. Unshakable. My hands — thick, calloused — shook slightly, but my face stayed stoic, calm, trained. I had to get help.

I yanked on a tight olive-green T-shirt, fatigues, and boots waiting by the door. Everything fit perfectly, like it had been tailored for this new, monstrous body. I bolted outside, desperate to find some scrap of normalcy.

That’s when I saw him. My neighbor. Standing by his truck, grinning wide, like we’d been friends for years.

"Mornin', brother!" he barked, striding over and clapping a heavy hand on my back. I tried to say something casual, anything — but my body snapped to attention, and I barked back, "Mornin', Sergeant! Outstanding day for PT!"

No. No no no. Inside, I was screaming. But on the surface, I was steady, confident, every word crisp like I’d practiced it my whole life.

We talked — about gear, training regimens, upcoming drills — and I just kept playing along, answering perfectly, even laughing when he cracked a joke about "those soft new recruits." At one point, I heard myself say, "Woke up at 0500 hours, got my warm-up set in before chow," — like it was the most natural thing in the world. 5 a.m., I corrected silently. Normal people say 5 a.m. But my mouth would never betray the facade.

"Come on, brother, we’re late for base," he barked, tossing a duffel into the truck. Without hesitation, I grabbed my own — somehow packed and ready — and climbed in.

The base was real. The ID around my neck scanned at the checkpoint. Guards waved me through. Nobody questioned it. We spent the day side-by-side, yelling commands, demonstrating lifts, pushing trembling recruits through brutal obstacle courses. And somehow, everything I needed to know was just there — drilled into me like muscle memory I never actually earned. Every command, every drill, every reprimand rolled off my tongue with perfect authority. And somewhere deep inside, the real me — the scared, confused version — shrank further and further down, screaming silently into the void.

That night, back in my strange, hyper-organized house, I tried to process it all. Photos covered the walls — snapshots of me and my neighbor on deployments, at competitions, at ceremonies. Awards lined the shelves. My inbox was full of congratulatory messages on recent promotions. My memories — my real ones — felt like faint shadows compared to the heavy, real weight of this new life.

The world believed this was who I'd always been. The world demanded I believe it too.

And no matter how much I panicked inside, no matter how much I begged for the old life back, my mouth only said, "Yes, sir." "Roger that." "Mission accomplished."

I guess my wish had come true. I wasn’t alone anymore. I had my best friend. My squad. My calling.

And deep down, under all the tattoos, the muscle, the discipline, the pride, the old me still existed. Still thrashing, still trying to surface.

But each day, that voice grew a little fainter. Each day, it got a little easier to lace up my boots, square my shoulders, and drive out to base. Adapt and overcome. That’s the mission now.

[nightingale-prompts]

Till Death- Beholder AU-DCxDP

Part 9

Rest of the series

Continuation of the Beholder series

It was that dream again. Danny was 14 again. The portal was right in front of him and it wasn't working.

Yet.

Then he puts on the suit. It always ended the same way and he dies. Then the dream repeats. Over and over he plays out his death and he feels it everytime.

They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die. That's a lie. The light at the end of the tunnel is just the last bit of light before your eyes close presumably forever. No—for Danny it was heat so hot it was cold. It was quick but agonizing long. It was like an eternity congealed into a moment.

He hated this damn dream.

Danny shot up in bed gasping for air.

He shifted to the overside of the bed. A distant Tim-less void was there.

Where was he?

Danny wondered through the house. He looked around in the dark, he used to struggle with seeing at night but his eyes haven't worked that way in a long time. Everything had a green glow like those night vision goggles Tucker used.

The house was clean and overly. The more worn style reflected an industrial edge Had he redecorated again?

Danny had been doing that a lot lately. It was hard not to be unsettled moving into a new haunt. He had rushed to this relationship rather than becoming naturally acclimating to Tim's haunt. He should have just started leaving his stuff around Tim's home first but Danny was a bit of a romantic—he's not good at holding back.

Now, Danny is constantly trying to nest—trying to find the right atmosphere to settle. It feels really good that Tim wasn't trying to stop him either. Poor Tim, he didn't even decorate his own haunt—er, home.

But Tim wasn't home.

Danny checked his phone and it was 3 am. He was usually out late because of work or family but he said he'd be back tonight. Danny didn't usually say anything. Most of the time he was out late with his own stuff. He told Tim that he had research to do at the observatory. This was a reasonable excuse but he was actually doing his job as Phantom. Shepherding the dead was a big task.

Danny felt uncomfortable as a thought came to mind.

What if he's with someone else?

That made too much sense to Danny.

To Danny, Tim was perfect. The ideal man and ever possible way so of course others would want him just as much. Nevermind the fact that no one living could want Tim as much as someone who is biologically compelled to be obsessed with their lover. No mortal could match that kind of energy.

Except—

There was someone else here.

Danny felt the energy shift as someone crossed the barrier. Immediately Danny fell on guard. None of Danny's friends or family were dumb enough to get this close to his haunts without asking and Tim didn't have guests.

Whoever it was they had no manners either. They didn't even bother knocking.

So some random woman just barged her way inside.

Danny was standing right here still in his sleepwear watching her in the dark.

"And who are you?" Danny asked coldly and dripping with poison.

The woman's stoned face straightened her back. Clearly, she was irritated but hid it well.

She smelled like diluted ecto. She was worse than some random robber. She was liminal.

"I'm here for Drake." She said with a thick but elegant accent.

Of all the things she could have said this was the absolute worst.

"What do you mean?" Danny growled this time.

His mind was racing already with what those words might mean.

"What does that matter to you? I only need one thing from him. To continue my bloodline I need him to do it. A child shall ensure that. Unfortunately, you are standing in my way." She held up a blade.

Fool of a woman she was to say things. All Danny heard was blood, child, my, and Drake. None of those words should be said together. Had Danny been a normal human he'd register this threat and run but he was not quite that anymore. No the ghost in him screamed that this was a challenge. This woman was a challenger. She was in HIS huant. HIS DEN! AND TRYING TO TAKE HIS BONDED! ANOTHER LIMINAL WANTS WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY HIS AND ONLY HIS!

"Not even over your dead body," Danny said slowly as he took slow steps towards her.

Woe is Nyssa Al Ghul. She had stepped into a dragon's den.

[monimccoythings]

Like Father Like Daughter

I have so many WIPs from different fandoms and this Wolverine fic ideas just keep coming and coming... I appreciate so much the support I've been shown, I don't look at the notes because it shows in activity that is 99+ and I get anxious lol. Logan has a nasty temper but is really fun to write.

Living with an ill-tempered man like Logan wasn't always easy, but living with him and his variant's teenaged clone turned adopted daughter who had the exact same temper as him, was proving to be quite the challenge.

As anybody would expect, those two were constantly butting heads at everything, be it food, curfews, or, just as they were doing at this very moment, Laura's choices in fashion.

The girl had chosen some shorts and black leggings, with black sneakers, and a crop top that was way too short for an old fashioned man like Logan to approve, to hang out with some friends she had made at her new high school. Barely sparing a glance at her outfit, Logan had snapped at her to go back to her room and change into something more appropiate, which Laura took it as well as any teenage girl that had spent part of her earliest teen years dressing and doing what she pleased in the void would. And then the screaming match had begun.

"NO CHILD OF MINE IS GOING OUT DRESSED UP LIKE THAT."

"IT'S JUST A SHIRT, IT'S NOT A BIG DEAL."

You let out a quiet sigh. You knew daughters were supposed to rebel against their parents, but having two superpowered beings at each other's throats at all times wasn't the great idea the universe thought it was. You knew they loved each other deeply and would kill for each other, but sometimes they were way too much alike.

"Sweetie, listen to Daddy on this one, he just wants what's best for you."

How the fuck had Wade gotten in and embraced your husband's muscular arm without anyone noticing. With a low growl, Logan pushed him away. Laura did not seem too pleased with him either.

"FUCK OFF, YOU AREN'T MY MOM!"

Wade covered his mouth and let out a shocked gasp that honestly was worthy of an Oscar nomination. You quietly thanked him for his presence, maybe that would help relieve the tension in the room. Laura turned at you, imploringly.

"Tell him he's just overreacting. Please."

You sneakily looked at your husband, who seemed to be red with rage, his lips pulled back in a feral snarl that clearly was a display of dominance, knuckles pressed against the wooden table so tightly that you started to fear for the well being of the furniture. His muscles were so tense he looked like he was going to burst out of his shirt, by the way the veins in his neck were swelling.

You didn't want to disrespect his authority over his daughter, but you also didn't want to make Laura direct her hate at you; you loved that girl and her attitude as if she was your own child. It seemed they needed some consesus, and you guessed you'd have to be once again the bigger person here.

"Laura, your father is just worried about you. If you want to wear that top, then you'd have to put a jacket on. And we want you back home by eleven."

"But my friends-" She started to protest, but you quickly cut her off.

"Eleven and that's more than your father was willing to give you."

She bit her lip, considering her options. With a huff, she stomped back towards her room to get that jacket. She slammed the front door on the way back out, not even bothering to say goodbye. Teenagers.

The living room got quiet. Really quiet. You could only hear Wade munching on some popcorn he had gotten from God knows where. Logan was fuming, not at you of course, but at his unruly adoptive daughter's behavior. He stormed towards your shared bedroom and slammed the door close hard enough, it made the pictures on the wall tremble. You sighed.

Well that went well.

It wasn't until half an hour later that he cooled off and decided to come out. You were cleaning up some dishes while Wade sat on the couch watching some cartoons. It made you smile, it was like you had two children running around.

You felt your husband's stubble and nose nuzzle against the back of your neck, as he embraced you from behind, his massive hands covering the entire expanse of your fourth month pregnant belly. "Feeling better now?" You casually asked.

His teeth nipped at the skin on your neck leaving a burning feeling that only his tongue could soothe. "I don't know what to do with her, she seems to fight against everything I do or say." His deep rumbling voice sent shivers running down your spine.

"Deep down she knows you love her. And she loves you too, even if she is too 'cool' to admit it." He let out a bitter chuckle, massaging your belly while leaning his chin on your shoulder, his sideburns made you tickle.

"I just hope this little one doesn't give us that much trouble."

"Hey, however they come out, we will love them the same, because they are a part of our family." He kissed your cheek and you leaned back into his embrace.

"Yes, our family." You let out a laugh at the sudden extra weight on your backs. Looks like Wade had gotten tired of the tv and had decided to join you into your little embrace.

"Wade..." Logan started warningly, carefully prying his hands away from your belly.

*SNIKT*

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

SOME TYPE OF SKIN (1).

PAIRING — billy russo x reporter f!reader

CONTENTS — ficlet; fluff; tiny bit of angst if you squint really, really hard; a dash of pining; references to some canon-typical violence; some very mild innuendo.

SUMMARY — after a harrowing experience, billy surprisingly takes the matter of your personal safety into his very own hands.

WORD COUNT — 1.6k

NOTES — so I decided to write something short and fun for @elixirfromthestars’s cinema writing challenge and honestly, i’m not 100% satisfied with this (when am i ever tho?) but also trying not to overthink this too much. please excuse me while I continue to scream into the void about this stupidly beautiful man. I apologize in advance for the person I have been and am going to be for the next few weeks; ben barnes has such a firm grip on my fucking throat lmao 🤭

✩ masterlist ✩ library blog

When he asked you to meet him here at Anvil headquarters so you could finally interview him for that story in the Bulletin, this isn’t exactly what you were expecting. 

Instead of being seated in his second floor office overlooking the main part of the warehouse, you’re standing in the basement dressed in your crisp white blouse, hastily pressed pencil skirt, and low heels. You toy with the press pass hanging around your neck, unsure what to do with your hands. 

Your interview subject, however, seems quite relaxed save for the slight wrinkle between his dark brows as he very deliberately lays out several objects on a table in the middle of the room. He’s switched out his usual sharp business attire for a green pullover that looks soft to the touch, dark cargo pants, and a pair of combat boots. 

It takes you a few seconds to find your voice, because does he have to recline against the damn thing like that? He looks tall and lean, but damn it when he’s like this, showing off the corded muscles in his arms and shoulders, you cannot doubt that he’s an ex-Marine. 

“Russo?” 

“Hm?” He hums distractedly. 

“Are those knives?” 

Well, that gets his attention. He lifts his head and finally makes direct eye contact, and a shiver shoots down your spine. 

“Yeah, they are,” he confirms casually, as if you’ve just asked him if the sky is blue. He leans his hands on the table, shamelessly giving you a slow and careful once over before he frowns a little. “You’re gonna have to change.” 

“I feel compelled to tell you Karen knows I’m here,” you say quickly, raising an inquisitive eyebrow when he just chuckles like you’ve said something adorably funny. “Also, I thought we were doing an interview?” 

Billy Russo stares expectantly at you for a few seconds, lips slowly turning upward into a mysterious smile that you know has captured hearts all over the city. 

But you won’t fall for that, will you? 

Nope. Not in the slightest. 

“Nah, not yet anyway. Sorry, darlin’.” 

Ignore that! You scream mentally, but your brain does not cooperate. “Then what am I doing here, Lieutenant?” 

Whoops. His head snaps up again, his already sunless eyes getting darker by the second. Without breaking the intense eye contact, he just gestures around the room as though it’s oh so obvious. 

“Self-defence training.” 

“And why would I need—ugh, I don’t have time for this, Billy.” You heave a sigh, dropping all pretenses now, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. 

You’ve always known that Billy marches to the beat of his own drum, ever since the two of you met when Karen introduced you a few months ago while you were researching for a story about army veterans—a friend of a friend’s, she’d said, but never elaborated—but this seems excessive. 

“You wouldn’t have come if I were honest,” he says, his smile falling away in an instant, the glint of amusement in his eyes disappearing like smoke in the wind. “I don’t need to remind you of the… unpleasantness that happened last week.” 

“And yet here we are,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m fine.” 

“You were attacked,” Billy corrects, walking around the table to perch himself on the edge closest to you. You roll your eyes; as if you’ve forgotten. Getting ambushed in front of your apartment by two masked assailants isn’t exactly an easy thing to forget. 

“Everything worked out, didn’t it?” You uncross your arms and saunter over to the table, ignoring the heavy weight of his gaze on you. And it really had! 

Just as one of your would-be kidnappers, whatever it was they wanted, hit you in the face in retaliation for you kicking him in the shins and biting the other on the arm, your neighbour had come out of the apartment building just in time and began screaming bloody murder. They had no choice but to drop you and run, leaving you dishevelled and bruised, but otherwise fine, on the sidewalk. 

“They could come back,” Billy points out, since they obviously didn’t get what they’d come for, the same thing the police had said when they arrived just minutes later. You didn’t think much of it, though. Karen had had her fair share of run-ins with such undesirables, and she assured that this just meant you were pushing precisely the right buttons as a reporter. 

Even so, she still urged you to call Billy for protection.

You wonder if he gets all of his clients to undergo this self-defence training, or if he always personally offers to instruct them.

“Can’t guarantee it won’t happen again,” Billy doesn’t seem to want to take no for an answer. The two of you stare for a moment, engaging in a silent battle of wits that you, of course, end up losing when you’re the first to look away. He nods at the various knives and daggers strewn across the table. “C’mon, pick one and we’ll start small.” 

“Small?” You squeak as you eye the particularly ornate handle on one of the knives that honestly looks more like a short sword. 

“Aw, don’t be scared,” Billy chuckles and pats you on the shoulder, watching with those hawkish eyes of his as you consider your options. “This is a safe space.” 

Is it though? You wonder as you pick up a small dagger closest to you. “Wouldn’t guns make more sense since I’m not exactly trained in hand to hand combat?” 

“I am training you. And you’re not ready for guns yet,” Billy grins when you unsheathe the dagger, eyes widening just a fraction at the way the blade glints in the light. “‘Sides, picturin’ you with a knife is way hotter. You gonna wear a thigh holster?” 

You flick the tip of the blade in his direction, “Watch it, Russo. I’m armed.” 

But he just laughs, a sound that comes with a dangerous surge of pride in your chest, “That’s not how you hold a dagger.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you bristle, cheeks warming and trying not to watch, enraptured, as he stands up to his full height, his boots thumping heavily on the concrete. 

“Careful,” he warns, but he sounds more amused than offended as he closes the distance between you in just a few small strides. “You’d better play nice if you still want that interview.” 

But there’s nothing professional about the way he steps behind you, the way his arms pull you back against his chest, or the way his hand lands on yours to adjust your grip on the dagger’s handle. 

“Not all of us can be badass ex-Marines, can we?” It takes everything you have not to stammer, not to gulp nervously when you feel the calloused ridge of his trigger finger caressing the same spot on your own hand. 

“Yeah, well, I believe in you,” you can hear the smirk in his voice as his free hand comes down to rest on your hip, warm and heavy as it guides you slowly into a proper stance. “Bend your knees a little.” 

“Pretty sure I hired you so I wouldn’t have to take matters into my own hands like this,” you huff in annoyance, grumbling but following his instructions anyway, feeling a bit silly doing this in your work clothes. He never did give you a chance to change. 

“Please, you couldn’t afford me,” Billy murmurs so low against your ear that it sends a shiver down the side of your neck, all the way to a certain part of your anatomy you refuse to acknowledge at the moment, his beard slightly rough against your cheek. Is he doing this on purpose? “Also, did you technically hire me if I’m doing this pro bono?”

“Yeah, and on that note,” you grow bold when he squeezes your hip in encouragement, leaning back against him with your arm extended, your hands joined together, the tip of the dagger’s blade angled upward at an imaginary assailant. “Why are you? The Billy Russo I know never works for free.” 

You see, you know precisely the kind of man Billy is. He would never invest this kind of time and energy into something like this, not unless he had something to gain from it—

Even without looking back, you feel his dark obsidian gaze on the still healing bruise that’s formed on the side of your face. His fingers tighten around yours, there’s a slight hitch in his breath you can feel with his chest pressed to your back, and the hand on your hip slides forward and around to your other side in an almost embrace. Protective, possessive, and maybe even a little petrified.

—or unless he had some type of skin in the game. 

And suddenly, despite the way you’re dressed and your hilarious lack of experience, you start to feel pretty invincible. You allow yourself a proud grin, squaring your shoulders so you stand a little taller in his arms.

They fall instantly, however, when Billy steps away and moves to stand directly in front of you. You feel immensely colder at the loss of proximity. 

“Alright, let’s see what you got,” he’s smirking again, all that vulnerability and whatever warmth you sensed in his body language once again hidden away behind a layer of arrogance and swagger. He beckons you with a come here gesture of his hand. 

“What?” You blink. 

“I’ve just broken into your apartment,” he states matter-of factly, “what do you do?” He coaxes you again with another wave.

“But wait!” You almost shriek, your bout of confidence once again faltering. “You didn’t even teach me anything yet!” 

“I need to see where you’re at first before I can teach you, darlin’,” he’s still smirking, half condescending and half amused, and your hands twitch to fling the knife at his stupid head.

“I’m at nowhere! I’ve got nothing! And you don’t even have a weapon, I could slice your damn face off!” Or worse, scar it. 

Billy laughs again, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners. “Oh, sweetheart, you can certainly try.” 

to be continued…

PART 2 »

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[fafnir19]

I’m just about ready to graduate from college, but I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to be one of the muscular, fratty freshmen in our baseball team. I heard they all had their heads shaved into a buzzcut as part of their hazing process. Is there a chance you can help me join them?

The sun was warm on your face as you sat on a bench in the park, watching the baseball team practice. It was just a few days before your graduation ceremony, and you felt a mix of excitement and apprehension about the future. Beside you was your best friend, with whom you shared a laugh, enjoying one of your last moments of care-free student life. "I'm just about ready to graduate from college," you said, a hint of nostalgia and uncertainty in your voice. "But I've been thinking, what if I'd taken a different path? What if I were one of those muscular, fratty freshmen on the baseball team? I heard they all had to get their heads shaved into a buzzcut as part of their hazing process." Your friend laughed. "You? A jock? That's a funny thought." You smiled at the idea, knowing it was a bit far-fetched. "Yeah, I know. It's just a fantasy, I guess." Your friend checked the time and stood up. "Hey, I've got to run. See you later." You waved goodbye, your eyes drifting back to the baseball field. You sighed, a mix of emotions washing over you as you contemplated the future.

That's when you noticed Jason, the team captain of the baseball players, standing in front of you. He said nothing, simply staring into your eyes with an intense gaze.

Your nervous laughter faded, and you shifted uncomfortably on the bench. "Jason... I don't understand..." you stammered, your eyes flicking around, unable to hold his intense gaze. "Shh, just look into my eyes..." Jason's voice was low and hypnotic, his sharp blue eyes boring into yours. Your heart raced as you felt yourself becoming entranced, your body relaxing despite your mind's feeble protests. "I think you'd look better on the floor," he said, his voice reverberating in your mind. Before you could react, you felt his fingers under your chin, forcing your gaze back to his. "No, Jason... I... I should..." you moaned, your resistance fading. "No need to resist... just listen to my voice... follow my eyes..." Jason's deep chuckle filled the air, his fingers caressing your jaw. Your body betrayed you as you moaned in response, your cock throbbing within your pants. "Mmm... fuck... Jason..." You sank to your knees, your eyes never leaving his. Your mouth hung open as you panted, your lips slick with drool. Jason stepped closer, his tight baseball pants straining to contain his bulging cock.

"You ready for the real thing?" he asks, and before you can respond, his pants slip away, revealing his massive cock. Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel yourself being pulled closer, your face inches away from his length.

As you opened your mouth to speak, to ask him to wait, you felt yourself being pulled forward. Toward him. Into him. It was as if you were being sucked into a vortex.The world darkens as you are pulled into the void. You feel your body shrinking and yourself being pulled into the tip of his cock. Your surroundings darkening as you're enveloped by his flesh. "Oh, fuck, yes..." Jason hisses, his eyes rolling back in his head as he feels you shrinking inside him. "That's it, boy, swim down to my balls. That's where you belong." The ground falls away, and you are falling, tumbling head over heels through the darkness. You cry out, your voice echoing back to you, but it is too late. You are enveloped in warmth, a sticky, wet heat that slows your movements and muffles your screams. You realize, with a start, that you are inside Jason's balls. The space is tight and confined, the soft yet resilient skin pressing against you from all sides. You are encased in a sticky, slimy substance that makes it hard to move. The thick, creamy fluid surrounds you, seeping into your pores and clouding your mind. You try to move, to orient yourself, but your body feels heavy and sluggish, your movements slow and dull. "Awww... it must be very musky down there, boy." Jason's deep laughter echoes through the sac, the sound vibrating against your skin. "I can feel you moving around in my cum tank. The scent must be driving you wild, huh? Making you all fuzzy and pliable. Hey, are you still with me, boy?" You try to respond, but your mouth feels full, your tongue heavy and unresponsive. You manage a feeble groan, a sound of surrender and submission. "Good... because Daddy is going to infiltrate you with my superior genes. Just relax and let it take effect. Soon, I'll rebuild you, and you'll be my obedient creation. My legal son, molded in my image as a fratty baseball player. Does that turn you on, boy? Knowing you'll be my little teen desperate to be just like Daddy." 

As Jason speaks, you feel the soft, resilient membrane of the sac pressing against you from all sides, constricting your movement. The surface is slippery and slick, offering no purchase for your flailing limbs. You are completely at the mercy of the powerful athlete. "Inside this sac, my body will produce a special gunk, a seminal straitjacket, that will cocoon you and ensure your transformation. It will merge with your very being, corrupting and assimilating you until you are reduced to the size of a mere sperm cell. You will be one of my boys, a part of me, and I will decide when and how to release you." You squirm and writhe, your movements growing weaker by the second. The gunk Jason mentioned begins to seep into the membrane, a warm, viscous fluid that coats your skin and penetrates your pores.

You let out a frustrated moan, your voice now little more than a whimper. "Mmm... ohhh... Jaaason..." "That's it, boy. Squirm for me. Groan for me. Your pleasure is mine to control, and your transformation is already well underway." You feel yourself being pulled deeper into the gunk, your body contracting and shrinking further. The membrane squeezes tighter, and your movements become more and more restricted. "Enjoy the ride, boy. Before long, you'll be a part of me, and I'll shoot you out when I'm ready to impregnate some lucky girl. Until then, just know that you're mine, and I own every inch of your being." You whimper, your mind clouding with pleasure and submission. Before long, you're nothing more than a sperm cell, ready to be wanked out and reborn under his control.

Days turned into an eternity of existence as a sperm cell, until finally, Jason fucks a hot girl and you're shot into a condom. The condom lay forgotten on the bedroom floor, a testament to Jason's post-coital carelessness.

You were aware of your existence as a mere sperm cell, shot into the condom during his release. The latex prison seemed like your final resting place as you hadn't fulfilled your purpose of impregnating an egg. "This is it," you thought, bracing for the end. "I'll fade away, and my consciousness will be lost forever."  But then, something unexpected happened. You began to absorb the cum that surrounded you, feeling it nourish and restore your body. 

"What the—?" Jason's voice cut through the room as he noticed the condom on the floor, twitching and pulsating. You continued to grow, your form taking shape within the condom. The rubber constricted around you, tight and confining, but you pushed against it, desperate to break free. "Oh fuck..." Jason's eyes went wide as he realized what was happening. "I never expected this." You grew, inch by inch, cell by cell, until you were human once more. With a final, powerful surge, you burst out of the condom, naked and transformed. Your body was younger, more supple, and resembled Jason's athletic build. You were now 18, a fresh-faced teen brimming with potential. As you ran your hands through your hair, you noticed it was shorter, styled in a buzzcut like Jason's.

You stood there, dazed, your mind foggy but filled with new thoughts and desires. "Baseball..." you muttered, your eyes landing on the bat leaning against the wall. "Frat..." You looked down at your body, flexing your muscles, and then at Jason, admiration and devotion shining in your eyes. "You... my role model." Jason's voice cut through the air as he picked up the shredded condom, a look of surprise on his face. "How is this possible?" You tried to speak, but your mouth felt strange, as if you were forming words for the first time. "I... I don't know," you managed, your voice sounding like a stranger's. "Amazing," Jason whispered, a smile spreading across his face. "My own minion." You looked at him, and your mind felt cloudy. Thoughts of admiration and loyalty filled your head. This man, Jason, was your role model. You wanted to be just like him—a confident, charismatic leader. Jason's eyes narrowed, and he placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. "Well, my little creation, it seems like we're bound together now. And I think it's time to put you to good use." You nodded eagerly, your mind now singularly focused on pleasing Jason and embracing the life he had bestowed upon you. "Yes, master. I'm ready to serve. Tell me what to do." "First, we need to get you geared up. You can't go around naked all the time." Jason laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that made you feel safe and excited. "Then, we'll initiate you into the frat. You're going to be the freshest pledge they've ever seen." As Jason began to dress you, you marveled at the feeling of the fabric against your skin and the sound of Jason's laughter filling the room.

Weeks pass, and you fall into a routine with Jason. You train with the baseball team, your body responding to the rigorous exercises with ease. Your skills improve daily, and the team accepts you as one of their own. You became a star player, all thanks to the power Jason had given you.

"He's doing great, Coach," Jason says, a hint of pride and astonishment lacing his voice. "The perfect fratty baseball player. But I can't help but notice his singular focus on baseball and, well... fucking." He chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his buzzed head.

The coach's eyes narrow, a spark of interest flashing in their depths. "Ah, I see. And what do you make of this behavior?" Jason shrugs, his broad shoulders rising and falling. "I'm not sure, Coach. I thought maybe it's just a phase, but it's been a few weeks now. He's always been a bit of a horn dog, but this feels different." A slow, satisfied smile spreads across the coach's face, creasing the corners of his eyes. "That's to be expected, Jason.  It's because he hasn't impregnated an egg when he was a sperm. He's grown from your cum, and that process has left him a horny breeding stud, pure and simple." Jason's eyes widened, a mix of shock and concern on his face. "So, that means..." Coach's hand caressed Jason's cheek, a sinister smile playing on his lips "Don't worry, Jason. After your baseball career, I'll make sure you become a dumb breeding stud too. You and your minion will be the start of something big: The breeding of the perfect baseball player... it's an art, a business, a passion. Much like the breeding of racehorses, this could become a very profitable business." Jason's eyes widened, the realization sinking in. "So, this was your plan all along? To create the perfect baseball players?" "Exactly," the coach said, stroking Jason's cheek.

Jason swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing. "You mean... I'll be... livestock?" The coach's eyes glitter with an unspoken power dynamic. "In a manner of speaking, yes. But you already knew that, didn't you, Jason? You knew the score when you agreed to this." "Y-you can't be serious..." Jason stammers, his voice cracking slightly. "Shh, don't worry. You'll be a dumb breeding stud soon enough. Led by your instincts, you'll be the perfect livestock." Coach's eyes glint with a dangerous mix of excitement and power. "No... I don't want to be a... a breeding stud." Jason's voice is strong and determined. On Coach's lips is playing a smile and he steps closer to Jason, his presence dominating the room. "Oh, but you will, Jason. You will. It's already begun, can't you feel it?" Jason swallowed hard, "I-I guess I have been feeling... different lately. More focused on baseball and..." he trails off, his cheeks flushing. "Your body and mind are already changing, becoming more pliable to my will. Soon, you won't be able to resist." The Coach's voice is low and hypnotic, his eyes boring into Jason's. "And by then, you'll be begging to be my livestock, begging to be used for breeding, to be owned, and to pass on your genes to create more athletes.” Coach's eyes narrow as whispers into Jason's ear. "Or should I turn you into breeding stock now? Make you dumb and led by your instincts?" "No, Coach, please," Jason protested, his voice cracking. Coach's hand reaches out, caressing Jason's cheek, then trailing down to his lips. "Relax, Jason. You'll be dumb as a rock, led by your base desires. Perfect breeding material." Jason screams, "No...", his hands reaching up to clutch at his head as if in pain. "Please, no... I can't... I can't think..." The thought of becoming Coach's livestock stirs a strange, primal desire within him. "Shh, it's already done, Jason. Your fate is sealed." The Coach chuckles, his eyes glittering with amusement. "But don't worry, you'll enjoy it. The power, the pleasure, your steadily dumbing mind... it will be unlike anything you've ever experienced before." Jason whimpers, his body trembling, and you realize that he is getting aroused, his pants tenting with the evidence of his desire.

 "Now, now, no need to be embarrassed." The Coach's voice is soothing, his hand reaching out to stroke Jason's bulging crotch. "Embrace your new nature, Jason. Let it consume you." "Y-yes..." Jason moans, his eyes rolling back in his head as he surrenders to the pleasure. "Oh, Coach... it feels so good..." You watch, transfixed, as Jason succumbs to the Coach's will, his body becoming a slave to the pleasure coursing through him. You wanted the same. To be a mindless, obedient jock, devoted to baseball and being used for breeding. "Good boy," Coach purrs, stroking Jason's now-pliant body. "You'll be my perfect little breeder. Now, go and practice. We have a game coming up, and I expect nothing less than perfection from my team." Jason nods, his mind clouded with desire and obedience.

He knows his fate is sealed. He will become the coach's breeding stud, and somehow, horny thoughts of being Coach's livestock excited him.

[ludolka]

Lemme scream some more into the void bc I have thoughts again (Grumbo family edition, notably regarding Prime and Grian)

So, in my AU Prime came from an alternative dimension where he was the only Grumbot made and Mumbo won the election. He wasn’t much of a son to either Mumbo or Grian though, they saw him as a computer to help them with mayoral stuff. So he was very much neglected and used. The more sentient he became, the angrier he got and in the end he (accidentally) destroyed that universe. His Grian was very much open about being a Watcher and used his powers for his advantage and never cared enough to teach Prime how to use/control his own powers. Then he came to this current universe, met this Grian who is much more of a father than his previous Grian was

He had a lot of trust issues, especially towards Grian and Mumbo. But having spent considerably more time with Grian and seeing the differences, he has warmed up to him for the most part. He’s now also fine with Mumbo, he just keeps his distance and Mumbo respects his boundaries

He is the most like Grian out of all the Grumbo children. Which regularly causes issues, but they have mutual respect and an unspoken bond

Grian sees himself in Prime. He was also used and seen as basically an object to the Watcher council. He was forced into a role, into a power he never truly wanted. He was forced into isolation and pushed past his limits. He’s seen as a tool for a purpose, not as a sentient being with needs and desires, often which are contradictory to said purpose (Grian’s desire for keeping his friends safe, but having to put them through death games to feed and entertain the Watcher council. Prime’s desire for family and love, but having to constantly work and be seen as a tool). He sees himself as an unlovable monster who destroys anything and anyone he touches

Prime doesn’t exactly see this Grian and Mumbo as his parents, even though he very much prefers them to his original parents. He doesn’t want to forget where he came from, what happened to him, what shaped him into who he is today. In his mind the words “parents”, “dad”, “father” or anything akin to that is bad and untrustworthy. He has come a long way, he doesn’t notice or get uncomfortable when his brothers call Grian and Mumbo those words or when they call him their son

But I can also see him calling Grian “dad” in a moment of pure desperation and fear, not even thinking about it. Just yknow, like a scared child screaming for their parent for safety or comfort when faced with something terrible

[aro-in-danyl]

Alastor as a "Gift from God" AU

Inspired by the TV Show Lucifer. I could not get this idea out of my head so into the tumblr void it goes.

Edit: PART 2 up now.

----------------------

Sera could count on one hand the number of times the Almighty personally called for her. And every single one before was the precursor to some disaster or threat.

She was confused when she was beckoned past the throne room, away from the meeting rooms, and into the Almighty's workshop. There was no dust or cobwebs for God would not allow it, but it was known among the higher-ups that The Almighty had not had the motivation for creation in eons.

"The screams of the damned awoke me today," God's many hands reached out from their ineffable form to grasp jars and potions of dubious origins.

Sera stiffened. "I thought you could not see into Lucifer's domain."

She had not dared to think she could hide the First Extermination from The Almighty's gaze but she'd hoped she have more time.

"Never before today have souls perished a second time." God collected more vials and instruments that Sera could not for the life of her understand the purpose of.

"Such fear," and they sounded sad, "over the birth of one child."

The Anti-Christ, Lucifer's daughter was more than just a simple baby. Her parents had hidden her for decades, but the change in their attitude was noticeable even before her existence was made known to heaven. Lucifer again grew bolder and more fanatical with his ideas and Lilith-

If they'd only known sooner.

Silence passed as God worked. Sera kept her head bowed so she could not see what was being created. But they did not demand she stop the exterminations, and that was enough for her to finally raise her head and peak at The Almighty's first creation in centuries.

A soul. Or what would become one soon enough.

Her curiosity finally broke through. "You have not crafted a soul by hand since-" She cut herself off. No need to push her luck.

"This soul is a gift." They said. And they began to spin the soul threads together, "They will be an equal. Unchanging. Dynamic. Static. Chaotic." With every word a new thread merged with the steadily-brightening soul.

"A defender. An assailant...An Avenger."

With the final word of God, the soul was finished. But, barring the confusion of all those conflicting traits, Sera was caught up on the first sentence of this new soul's purpose.

"A gift to who?"

God did not answer. But that left her with another more pressing question.

"The creation of a new soul is a breath-taking experience to witness," she began carefully, "But why have you called me here?"

In answer, God reached behind themselves to a corner that Sera had not paid attention to and pulled out the tip of a spear. One from Adam's exorcists.

She tensed as God held it up to the fragile new soul. Angelic steel was crafted solely to bring death to the damned. To souls. Was this her punishment? To bear witness to the creation of life, of potential goodness, only to watch it be snuffed out before it even had a chance?

God pressed the spear to the soul, "Your Exorcists should take heed," the spear stabbed into the soul and Sera couldn't help but cry out in despair. But the soul did not whither or fade. She watched as the spear tip was catapulted away at lightning speed, burying itself in the wall across from them.

"And avoid his attention."

[fieldofdaisiies]

Midnight Queen

paring: Azriel x Reader | type: smut | words: 3,7k | warnings: explicit descriptions, vulgar wording, pleasure hall setting. playlist: i want to | fill the void | wicked games | earned it | into it | chills | TiO I decided to do a little rewrite of my first ever story I posted on here; thank you so much @moonlightazriel for beta reading it (sorry for serving you smut for breakfast)💛

"If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her."

And he did. He kept his distance. That night, that night months ago, he left. He stayed away from her. From Elain.

He left the House of Wind. And he sought out a pleasure hall. He downed a drink. And then he walked down one of the narrow corridors, velvet tapestry on either side, towards a more private room at the very back of the pleasure hall. Primal noises, moans and screams reached him on his way there, the scents of arousal mingling in the air around him, making him grimace. But he ignored it all, his anger and frustration getting the best of him.  

Azriel had followed Rhysand’s suggestion - fed up with all the happy couples in his life, and their constant display of joy and love. He couldn't stay moment longer in the House of Wind. 

He had to leave. But not for the sake of fucking. He didn't come to the pleasure hall to fuck, only to watch. To distract himself. And it is all he's done ever since. 

He only comes here to watch. And only to watch you. 

Until tonight. Tonight is different. Tonight he needs. He craves. He is a hungry male, and he seeks to devour. To still his hunger. He wants to savour. You. 

The glass, half-full with amber liquor, is tipped to his plump lips, while his gaze, like heated honey, is trained on you, following your every move. Just like his shadows, perched on both his shoulders and the little stage you dance upon, watching your every move closely, twin flames burning in his eyes that devour you, slowly undress you. 

You're on my mind Been there all night I've been missing seeing my midnight queen Come have a drinkOr maybe three And Darling I'll make you my next victim It's been too long to spend this night alone I need to hear the sweet sound of your moans Come have a ride, baby don't be so shy I prefer girls who're not afraid to cry

His eyes are on your curves and how you put them in action. Each sway of your hips, each spin, each twirl, Azriel‘s eyes follow, leaving heat in every place they touch. You feel it, feel how your heart beat quickens, how his eyes undress and devour you. He is a hungry male and you a ready to serve. 

But you make him wait, it is a game you are playing and you are not done yet. Hunter and prey…

Since his first visit a few months ago, Solstice Eve, he has only ever come to see you dance. And you like it. Enjoy it. His attention, the silent desire brewing beneath his tan and in tattoos covered skin, and flickering brightly in those hazel eyes that could easily undress females with just one look at them…

You spin and meet his gaze, a feline grin gracing your red-coloured lips. You blow him a kiss and watch how his eyes sparkle, twin flames of lust burning in them. His arousal, the scent so musky, of night chilled mist and cedar, reaches you and you inhale deeply, revelling in it. Damp heat slicks between your thighs, but you remind yourself that he is just another customer, just another male watching you. He should not have this effect on you. You should not want him that much…

You roll your hips, your belly nearly touching the pole, hands curling tighter around it. 

Azriel‘s mind wanders, he imagines how those hands curl around his shaft, your mouth —those plump red lips— fastened around the crown of his cock. 

Your head whips to him, almost like you can read his filthy thoughts. And when your eyes meet his, you know what you want. You want him fully unleashed, see what this powerful male is capable of. You bend over, crouch down, always making sure he focuses on the part of your body you want him to. 

Straightening up, you begin to dance anew. 

The room is hazy, dimly lit — arousal making the air feel thick, and foggy. You glide over the small stage with effortless allure. Grabbing the pole, swirling around it, moving away and always coming back. All your movements seem like a symphony of grace, syncing flawlessly with the soft pulse of the music that surrounds him. 

You never break eye-contact with him. Not even when you move of the stage, each step accentuated by the sway of your round hips. A thin piece of lace fabric covers your most private areas, leaving absolutely nothing to imagination. Your soft skin is almost fully exposed to both Azriel and the slightly chilly air. But you don’t feel cold. You feel hot all over. You are burning for this male. The male with the wings and shadows and stunning, cruel beauty etched upon his face. He is a sin to look at and more than once have you imagined yourself on the ground, between his thighs, looking up at him through your lashes. Damp heat pools between your thighs and you know he can scent it - and you want him to.

Your body moves like silk in the muted glow. As you move closer, you keep your gaze locked with his, a silent promise lingering in the air.

This night will be different, you know it. This night will not end here. But in your bed.

I choose you to fill my void, yeah I speak my voice and I choose you to fill the void

Your fingertips brush his shoulder, nothing but corded muscles beneath the fabric of his black shirt, as you move around him, a hypnotic dance in sync with the soft pulse of the music — a delicate tease with every sway of your hips, every little touch. He is a gone male, you have him fully wrapped around your finger, so much that also his shadows move in sync with the music and the sway of your hips. 

With your last swirl around him coming to an end you pause, halting between his strong thighs, so very inviting to sit down, to ride. But not yet.

With tantalising precision, you guide his hands to follow the contours of your body, his rough calluses scraping against your soft skin. The room fades into insignificance, there is only you on Azriel‘s mind, the feel of your soft skin beneath his hands. He wants to touch, feel, explore, grab, squeeze and knead.

But for now, he caresses.

The chemistry between your souls and the shared desire, so acute and palpable, creates an intimate bubble - no one but Azriel and you matter anymore.

Your scent is intoxicating and Azriel wants to taste you, lick and suckle, drink you in. He has been waiting so long for this moment, anticipation nearly makes him lose control. 

The soft brush of your skin against his is enchanting and he is lost, a goner. You own him. He is fully at your mercy, cock straining almost painfully behind his trousers. 

You guide his hands higher, his palms brushing over your hard nipples and sending a shockwave of sensation right to your core. Your knees threaten to buckle when his broad hands close over your breasts, kneading them gently, and you use this as an excuse to claim the spot on his lap.

"Good evening, Azriel." His name, rolling over your lips as a seductive whisper, almost like a sweet little sin, heats his blood — he can’t wait to hear you scream it when you come on his tongue. Around his dick.

"Sit!" His command is nothing but a purr and you follow, like the good girl you are. Your knees are braced on either side of him, caging him, when you lower yourself to sit atop the powerful Illyrian male. Your scents mingle, his shadows, having formerly watched you so intently, now glade over your bare skin, their touch so delicate their strokes leave goosebumps in their wake. His hands land on your waist and he holds you tightly. Almost like he needs to ground himself, holding back from fucking you straight ahead. 

The sultry grin once again touches your lips, and you lock your gaze with his, longing for the heat in this endless brown of them.

"You returned," you say, voice hushed and breathy.

His eyes dip to your mouth. "Always." Azriel's tongue pokes out and he licks over his lower lip, slowly dragging it over the skin. "I‘ve never visited anyone else." His finger tips dig into your skin. "Only ever you."

This shouldn’t make you so happy, but it does and your grin widens.

One of his hands lowers, grabbing your hips tightly. A growl, primal and pure, leaves him when you shift atop him. You feel his arousal, pressing into you, desire just as acute as your own.

Leaning in, your damp lips brush his ear, and in a sensual whisper you say, "I was wondering when you would finally put those hands to good use." You kiss the spot below his ear and to your surprise he shudders. His reaction elicits a delighted giggle from you.

But when you lean back, some of the fire in his eyes has vanished, almost like the flames were extinguished — did you the wrong thing?

"My hands—" he starts but does not continue. But he looks down and you follow the direction of his eyes, noticing the scars adorning his hands and parts of his arms. 

A feeling, something unknown to you since this moment, blooms inside you and you quickly close the distance between the two of you again, lips nearly meeting his. "Scars or no scars, your hands are beautiful and I can’t even tell you how many times I‘ve thought about them already. On me, all over me." You kiss his jaw. "Inside of me."

His skin tightens and when you meet his gaze again the fire is back, burning brighter than ever before. 

"What a coincidence," he purrs, his hot breath fanning your exposed skin, smelling of liquor. "I’ve been imagining your hand wrapped around my cock instead of that pole quite a few times already, as well."

The grin that spreads over his face is wicked, full of sensual promises, and the prospect of a night you will never forget. You are glad the former sadness has disappeared.

"Why did you come here tonight?" Your hot breath fans his neck. It is always the same question - the question you always ask Azriel when he comes to you. Though this time the answer is different. For the first time he comes here for something else.

"To still my insatiable hunger," he rasps. You feel how the muscles in thighs tense, harden, his palms radiating heat through the flimsy piece of lace you are wearing.

A sultry chuckle parts your red-tinted lips. "Hopefully we can appease your hunger then, shadowsinger."

He smiles again, sensual, sultry promises shimmering within his eyes, but he makes no move to kiss you. Or touch you any further. You lean in again, damp lips coasting over his cheek. 

"What are you waiting for, Azriel?" His name rolling over your lips in a whisper feels like the sweetest sin to Azriel, it makes a groan erupt from some deep part of his throat, and his skin go taut with desire. Yet, he controls his hunger, his need, having to make something very clear before you commence.  

"Your consent," the shadowsinger breathes. "When we fuck, I don’t want you to do this because it is you job. When we fuck, I want you to want this just as much as I do. I want you to—"

You shut him up with a kiss. "I want you. I want this. And I know this is more than my job. I want you because my body screams for you. I need you."

It is all he needs to hear. Azriel leans in. He threads his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck, tilting your head back to give him better access. His tongue licks over the exposed column of your spine, tasting both the sweet, rose scent of your perfume and the saltiness of your sweat. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he rasps, and nips at your jaw, hand sliding between your thighs, parting them.

You feel light-headed on top of him, his erection pressing into you. "Why did you wait so long then?" Your voice is nothing more than a sensual purr. Your grind against him, your softest parts against his hardest. "Why did you make me wait for so long?"

He sucks in a sharp breath. And then he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

Your skin heats up, cheeks burning when your eyes meet his - pupils fully dilated. 

"Because it only made me hungrier for you." His lips close over yours, showing you exactly how hungry he is. "I am a starved male and I can’t wait to devour. To ravish you tonight."

You have to hold back from moaning out loud.

His index finger strokes over the lace, the only thing piece of fabric covering your private parts. He groans at the dampness soaking through the fabric, his head already starting to spin. Long, scarred hands slide beneath it, dragging through your wet folds, eliciting a gasp from you.

"For me?" he purrs.

"Yes," you breathe, eyes glazing over, "only you can get me so wet."

At first, the shadowy male is explorative, touching you gently, easing his fingers in an out of you in languid movements, but all of that comes to an end when you bite down on his neck, dragging your teeth over his hot skin. Azriel laughs, almost a little wickedly, and flicks his wrist, plunging his fingers into you from a different angle now. He fucks you hard - fingers spearing into you, thumb rubbing your clit until release shatters through you. You cry out, nails digging into his skin, head falling back. Your knees buckle and your limbs feel tingle, his fingers still inside of you, letting you ride out your high. No male has ever made you feel like that, and he is only using his fingers to do so. If in this composed position, and only with two of his fingers, he can already make you feel like that, and make you come so hard, you won’t even allow yourself to imagine what he will be able to do with his…cock.

He is smug about how easily he made you come - an almost arrogant smile gracing his plump and swollen lips - cocky male! But something about it fuels a fire inside of you. He is skilled and he knows it, and somehow you love it. 

He removes his fingers, slowly, and holding your gaze he dips them into his mouth, licking them clean of your juice. A guttural noise rumbles out of him, his eyes rolling back at the taste of you. "Fuck," he breathes and a moment later his hands cradle your face and he kisses you, deep, passionate and hungry. 

You roll your hips against him, almost whining when your sensitive core rubs over the bulge in his pants. Your skin prickles, your clit is swollen, core throbbing while your nerves are on fire. You need him fully. You need him inside of you. You need him unleashed. 

"More," your breathlessly plead. And you are surprised - it is never you who begs.

Azriel kisses the corner of your mouth, lips lingering. "I wasn’t planning on stopping here."

He hoists you in his strong arms, large wings flaring behind his back, your legs wrapping around Azriel’s waist. With ease he carries you to the large bed, and then tosses you onto it, into the dark, silken sheets. He is towering over your, shoulders squared, wings spread, shadows dancing on his shoulders. "Strip," he orders, but adds, "or do you need help?"

A smirk appears on your lips and he is on you the next second, tearing through the flimsy piece of fabric, bearing you to chilly air and him. "Apologies, I will buy you a new outfit." His lips coast over neck to cleavage, until he reaches your tits. He takes each hardened peak into his mouth, letting his tongue glide over the pebbled skin, closing his lips, suckling, his other hand giving just as much attention to your other breast, kneading gently. The calloused skin is rough against yours and feels phenomenal and terribly arousing. You need him. You need him so much, you simultaneously let the tip of your toes slide beneath the waistband of his pants, and your hand over his crotch. With ease, you flick open the button, and push the trousers down the curve of his ass. His hard cock springs free and leaves you breathless - he is long and thick, a little curved and absolutely beautiful.

Interrupting your shameless staring, he kisses you, tongue parting your lips, teeth clashing, tongues dancing, fighting for dominance neither of you allows the other. Both scarred hands, arms adorned with visible veins, are braced next to your head. He is leaning over you, caging you and you love how he makes you feel - respected in your choices, seen, and not just like an object. That’s why you want him so much. That’s why you need him so much - he is not like other males. 

You only break the kiss when you feel something wet on your skin, and lift your head, Azriel’s gaze following your eyes.

A drop of pre-come has fallen onto your belly, right next to your navel. You want to clench your thighs, something low in your belly tightening. The male sucks in a sharp breath, and then an almost animalistic growl parts his lips. 

His hot breath fans your throat, canines scratching over your skin. "That’s what you do to me. That’s how much I crave you."

He forces your thighs further apart, shifting on the bed, the broad crown of his cock nestled against your entrance. 

"Open up for me, my queen." Queen. You have never been called anything more beautiful. More powerful. 

Your hips fall even wider open and he slides into you, sinking into your tender flesh, stretching you out. Nothing could have ever prepared you for this feeling, the feeling of him - no one has ever felt like Azriel. So good. So right.

There is a hint of pain, but you eventually adjust to his size, and moan.

Never ever have you felt so perfectly filled. "Fucking Gods," you moan, fisting the sheets next to you. "Fuck, Azriel, move."

He loves the dominance, the power he has. With a low chuckle, seeing your already blissed out stage, he pulls out until only the tip is in and then rolls his hips against you, plunging deep into you, the muscles in his ass flexing.

"You are such a needy little thing, huh? So greedy for my dick." He is searching your gaze, waiting for a reaction - do you like the slight degradation? Is it too much, due to your job.

But you like it - coming from his lips you like it. You know he doesn't mean it in relation to your job. 

You let your hands slide down to his ass, sinking your nails into the flesh, your own hips lifting, back arching. 

"How do you want me, my midnight queen?"

You let out a shaky breath, his length slowly sliding into you, letting you feel every proud inch of his erection. "Ha-rd," you stutter. "I want you to take me hard."

He growls in approval and soon sets a relentless tempo, pulling out to the tip and slamming back into you - at a brutal pace his hips snap against yours, pounding and thrusting into you. 

The breaths that leave Azriel are ragged and fast, just like your own. Your whimper and moan, cry out in pleasure, meeting each of his thrusts with the roll of your hips. 

The sounds of smacking flesh, the groaning of the bed and the bedframe hitting the wall fill the small room. Your back arches, and you lift your legs, curling them around Azriel, heels pressing into his bum. The new angle allows him to fuck you even deeper and it has you writhing and squirming beneath him. 

Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him and it tells Azriel you are close. And so is he - release already starts to gather in his spin, flecks of black and white sparking in front of his vision. 

"You are taking me so well." Azriel captures your lobe between his teeth. "You want to come, don't you?"

You nod, no more talking possible. You are a blissed-out mess beneath him, driven only by desire and lust, your body feeling like jelly. 

Azriel clicks his tongue and you are surprised you heard it over the blood rushing in your ears. "Use your words!" There is nothing soft in his voice, nothing gentle - it is a command and you absolutely love his dominance. Because he respects you in his dominance. It is about your pleasure as well. This is about you. This moment is about you. He sees you. Respects you. 

"Yes!" you cry out. The dam bursts and release washes over you. You come undone, screaming out in pleasure, and Azriel follows you right over the edge. His thrusts become languid, his hot seed spurting of your walls, filling you. "Take it all," he groans into your ear, hips rolling against yours and you milk him dry. "Let me fill you up nicely. I want my scent to be all over you, stick to your skin for ages." 

Your eyes roll back, and you are too delirious to realise that this wonderful moment is already over. 

You slump onto the mattress, knees buckling, limps numb, chest rising and falling with deep inhales. Azriel pulls out and then collapses right on top of you. 

"No male will ever touch you again, Y/N. You are mine! From now on, until the last day of our immortal life."

~~~~~~~ tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

[welcome-to-puppet-hell]

Hi! can i request of a reader who falls into Home?

a bit late, anon. sorry about that! but i hope it was worth it~

if anyone else wants to request something, click here for info.

I don’t remember much from the Before. There’s only bits and pieces, flashes of arbitrary images that I can’t really make sense of—a shattered puzzle that I’ll probably struggle to put back together for a long, long, long time. But what I do remember is the smoke entering my nostrils, filling my lungs. The struggle to move, to break free. And then, something even stranger.

A spiral. This endless loop of white spinning and spinning and spinning into a black void that seemed to carry this Hunger. For what, I didn’t know. Still don’t.

But there was no other way out. No way to escape.

So, through the difficulty to breathe, through the tears streaming from my eyes, through the pain entering my limbs and trying to shut my body down, I reached my hand out towards it.

And that, I can only assume, was enough.

.

.

.

“…Oh my gosh!”

“Are they okay…?!”

“Where’d they come from?”

Oh my god, can anyone tell them to shut up?! Some people are trying to sleep here. 

Well, if you can call this sleep, really. Now that I’m actually a bit conscious, I can actually feel the agony weighing on me. Every inch of my body is crying out in the sort of pain that will leave bruises and scars and aches for days. Either I’m having the hangover of a century or I got hit by a semi, and neither seem appealing.

A groan leaves me at the thought, my eyes moving behind eyelids. I need to get up at some point. Get to my phone. Call my—

“…Hey, I think they’re comin’ round,” a deep Southern drawl above my head. 

“Step back!” Another voice, nasally and anxious. “Give them some air!”

The shuffle of many feet makes me feel a little less stifled. With a deep breath, I force myself up on my elbows. Then grasp my forehead, feeling pain pain pain, god, ow! Feels like I was run over by a truck, shit. Did I drink anything last night…? 

Actually, what did I do last night? 

Blinking, I keep trying to remember…but it just makes no sense. I came home from work, pet my cat, went into the bedroom to greet you, and then—nothing. Nothing except the memory of smelling smoke.

All my focus returns when a huge hand lands on my shoulder. I blink again and look over to see that it’s blue and…fuzzy. 

What the hell…?

My eyes follow the length of the arm to see a huge, huge blue dog staring down at me. His brows are furrowed and his eyes seem to hold worry. And even worse, in a way that disturbs me right to my bones, his mouth parts and a voice comes out.

“Hey, buddy,” he says softly, almost comforting. “Ya good?”

A ringing starts through my ears.

(Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.)

Immediately, I push away from him and scramble to my feet. I look around, seeing all the bright colors—too bright. Doesn’t look real. The grass, the trees, the flowers, and even the houses—none of it look real. Looks too bright, too colorful. And the…the people.

Wait, no. Not people. Not with those eyes, and that…that skin? Grayish-purple, orange, y-yellow…is that a bird? A sun? And omigod, what the hell is that?

(—Not human!)

“Whoa, they, uh. They don’t look too good, Barn,” says the big green one with too many arms to the big blue dog, his eyes narrowing slightly. 

“P-perhaps we can bring them some tea,” says the huge red bird, a fucking bird, her eyes soft and full of worry.

“Maybe they just need to lie down,” says a huge one with orange skin, wearing a hat. A mailman? His mouth spreads into a gentle smile as he walks over to me, his hand lifting, possibly to calm me down. “Hey pardner, just relax. Everythin’ is okay…”

(DON’T TRUST THEM.) 

And despite my heart pounding so hard it feels like it’ll burst out, despite my lungs pinched from a lack of air, I look around at all of them and scream.

“Get the hell away from me…! Who are you? Where am I? What…?”

As I lift a hand to point, I pause. A dread creeps over me, coats my back in a cold sweat. My gaze falls to my hands, my arms. My fingers are spread as I spin my hands palm up. Then they curl to stroke over each other, to touch, to feel.

(No skin. No skin, no skin, what the hell happened to my skin? It’s just. Just—)

Again, I can’t seem to breathe, my heart hammering so loud I can hear it. But then again, do I even have a heart anymore? Lungs? My hands go to my face, feel the fuzz there and a sob starts to tremble from me. Impossibly so, water flows from my eyes and down my cheeks, making my gaze blurry. Noise happens around me, like yelling but not, just voices full of worry and confusion.

And then, yellow hands grasp my own and it all goes silent.

“Neighbor…?”

That…that voice. I know it. I know him. But how? From where?

“Jamie?”

How does he know my name?

“Jamie, look at me.”

Despite everything, my eyes lift from where he’s holding my hands and meet with his.

You’d think that it was his hair that would catch my attention first, with how blue it is and how it seems to curl in on itself  in a pompadour. But no, it’s actually his eyes. They are huge in how open they are, pupils too wide, and black like the void as they stare into my own. The smile he wears is too wide, it should be splitting his face apart, and yet I kind of know it’s not with anything malicious. He’s excited that I’m here, like he’s been…waiting for me. 

I’m both unnerved, yet drawn to the gaze, despite all the alarms going off inside my skull. Like he is slowly sucking me in—

But then in a blink, his eyes look—normal. Neutral? 

“There we go. Are you all right, Neighbor?” he asks me, his smile not as wide, but still holding warmth…I think. “That was quite a fall.”

I blink. “Fall? F-from where…?”

His eyes dart pointedly upwards, silently coaxing me to follow his gaze. For a split second, high up in the clear blue sky above us—almost too high to see—there’s a black hole with a spiral of white. But then, just as quick as I see it, it closes up and blinks out of existence. I blink again and then start actually looking around me, feeling a sickening thud through my chest. 

What…what is this place?

“I…what…who…” 

Groaning suddenly, I squeeze my eyes closed and let my head fall slightly forward, the nausea making my stomach twist. Fuck, it hurts! But why does it…?

But then he squeezes my hands again, grounding me.

“Of course not, that was a dumb question,” he says in a monotone, but still somehow sounds warm and welcoming. “Come, let me take you to Home. You can have tea there, and we can talk.”

“I’ll come with!” the huge blue dog adds with a grin, and then a grin. “Walls and I can show you ‘round afterwards.”

“That’s a great idea, Barnaby! He’s really good at explaining things, much better than I am.”

At this point, I feel so numb. I can only stare into the slightly shorter man’s dark eyes. Finally, after a beat, I dare to ask:

“Who are you?”

His expression goes blank for a moment. And then, he smiles wide.

“Wally,” he says. “Wally Darling.”

[quack-quack-snacks]

Time Will Tell - Chapter 1.22

My Time Will Tell Masterlist

My Cha Hyun-su Masterlist

My Navigation and Masterlist

The Time Will Tell Glossary

Warnings: Kim Seok-hyeon's death tehe. Word Count: 1,879 Author's Note: I couldn't find a gif for today's chapter :(

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The rest of the day as well as the morning and afternoon of the next passed by quickly. You’d mostly played with your siblings, finally starting to feel better after that much-needed crying session on Hyun-su’s shoulder. You visited Hyun-su during both the morning and afternoon, just to check up on him and make sure he was doing okay. You also saw him when he stopped by to ask if you needed anything on his next trip up. Like always, you shook your head and refused, thanking him for the offer and wishing him safe travels. 

What you were doing right now, though, was sitting in the apartment complex’s alcohol room with your two siblings sitting beside you. You were helping along with some other residents empty beer bottles and then filling them with water. The sun outside had already faded away behind the horizon, leaving the stars glinting in the black sky. Your injured hand still hurt with every movement but you made a point to not complain and just keep doing your part in the work. 

“When do you think Hyun-su will be back?” Seung-wan asked after there was a lull in the previous conversation about Byeong-il drinking the beer. 

Your hands stilled above the bottle you were holding and you looked down. 

“I don’t know. He’s late today,” Hye-in replied nonchalantly. “Do you think something happened to him?

You hadn’t even realized how much time had gone by but it had been a while since he left indeed. It scared you a little bit, wondering if he was safe and well. 

“You know he doesn’t die,” Jae-hwan answered with a condescending voice. “Even if he gets hurt, he gets better after a nap.”

“And that’s an excuse as to why we shouldn’t worry about him?” You asked him, fixing your cold glare on him. He shifted in his seat and looked away. 

Just as he was about to respond, the whistle signaling a monster sounded through the propped-open door. It continued to blow frantically, like the person was hyperventilating while blowing into it. 

Everyone shot up from their seated positions and ran out the door, ready to take on whatever it was that was in their safe zone. 

Everyone was screaming and shouting, panicking over the slow-moving monster that looked like a human-mop hybrid. 

Sang-wook walked forward, ready to fight it off when Seon-yeong put a hand on his arm to hold him back. “That’s my husband. Stay back.”

She walked forward, ignoring everyone's calls for her to get away. “Don’t go near it Seon-yeong!”

She paused a few feet in front of him. “Pull yourself together, Kim Seok-hyeon,” she demanded. He growled and took another step forward, his hands breaking through the mess of hair surrounding his body. “Kim Seok-hyeon. Pull yourself together!” She raised the pipe in her hand up like a baseball bat before swinging it down on him. 

You looked around for your siblings and saw them standing beside Mr. Han. You ran over, grabbing both of their hands and leading them away from the scene. You heard screams and sobs echoing behind you as you led the two into the nursery. Jin-ok wasn’t far behind you when you sat them down and told them to ignore it. 

“I’ll come back in a bit when everything has settled down, okay?” You told them and they nodded. Jin-ok nodded as well, thankful you were there to protect their innocence for as long as possible. 

You ran back to the lobby when you suddenly heard the buzzing noise of the door to the stairs ringing. You walked up quickly and opened it, not at all surprised to see Hyun-su standing there. 

What you were a little surprised about were the endless voids that stared back at you in the place of his eyes. You would probably never say it but you thought those black eyes were one of the most beautiful things you’d ever see.

But they would always remain in second place to the brown eyes that lie underneath those voids. 

He was leaning against the wall and breathing heavily. When he pushed off the wall to start walking in and stumbled, you rushed forward to grab him, standing unnecessarily close to him. You looked up at him only to find him staring back at you, his black eyes fading as soon as your eyes met his. 

The sobs from Seon-yeong interrupted your moment and you remembered where you were. 

You looked away first, not letting go of him yet as you asked, “Can you walk on your own?”

He didn’t answer for a second until he nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay, I’m going to let go of you then,” you warned him, though your grip didn’t loosen at all for a long moment. You gave him a small smile that his own lips didn’t respond to, but you could see it in his eyes how much he wanted to return it. 

When the two of you reached the bottom of the stairs, Seon-yeong had just delivered the final blow to her husband. Blood was scattered all over her face and neck, a pool of it flooding the area where Seok-hyeon’s body laid. 

You could see the horror on Hyun-su’s face as he scanned the scene in front of him, and the way he actively avoided looking at it as he started heading toward the arcade room. He stopped halfway there and looked at the pool of blood reflecting his own face, standing there for a minute before dropping the bag of stupid supplies and continuing to the room designated to him and his ‘infection’. 

You started to follow him but you were stopped by Eun-hyuk grabbing your arm and shaking his head. So, with a few hesitant looks between Eun-hyuk and the direction Hyun-su went, you started heading to the nursery to check up on the three people in there.

You sat in the nursery with the rest of the residents, candles lit all across the room since the power went out. Yeong-su sat in your lap and you rubbed his back while he cried. He was never good with the dark, always picturing monsters lurking in the shadows.

It didn’t help that now his fears were rational. 

“Let’s wait a little, Ji-eun,” Seung-wan said consolingly to your left. “It’ll be okay.”

Hye-in scoffed lightly when she sat down. “How do you know? It’s obviously not okay.”

“What’s gonna happen now? I hear we’re about to run out of food,” Jae-hwan said worriedly as he snuggled up against Hye-in. 

“The water will be cut off soon,” Ji-eun said, her voice shaking. “I’m really scared.”

“Noona, are we gonna die?” Yeong-su asked. Tears had already streamed down his face despite you trying your best to comfort him. You couldn’t say anything in fear of it being a lie, so you just held him closer in your lap, squeezing him reassuringly. 

Everyone was silent for a moment as they thought about the boy’s words. It was only broken when Byeong-il broke and spilled his fears. “Yeah, it’s over. We’re all totally fucked!” He yelled.

“Hey!” You yelled at him, using a leg to kick him harshly on the thigh. He groaned in pain but you didn’t care because the whimper of fear from Yeong-su and Su-yeong caught your attention more. You whispered words of care and love into their ears as you wrapped an arm around Su-yeong as well and pulled her into the hug. 

“I really hope I go to Heaven when I die,” Byeong-il continued, yelping and groaning when you kicked him again in the same spot. 

“So what?” Eun-yu asked. “So what? Who cares? Do you want us all to drink the fucking Kool-Aid and just give up or something?” She yelled at him before standing up. “Stop whining, asshole! Whining won’t change anything. Trust me,” she finished and walked out while you still held your crying siblings close. 

“Okay,” you decided. “It’s time for bed, yeah? Get comfy and I’ll read you a story, okay?” 

They nodded, excitement momentarily taking over their fear. They always loved when you told them stories since you did the funny voices and had a great way of painting a picture in their minds.

You told them the story until they fell asleep, cuddled up against each other with tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes. You smiled at them with loving eyes before standing up. The rest of the people in the room were also quietly getting ready for bed so you weren’t worried about them waking the tykes up while you went to go check on Hyun-su. 

You grabbed your book, a flashlight that was sitting next to the door, and the first-aid kit you grabbed from your apartment before you set off towards the arcade room. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Hyun-su since he stumbled through the door after you opened it. It really looked like he had a bad encounter during his trip upstairs and it scared you. You hadn’t seen any visible signs of injury on him but the way he limped and couldn’t seem to catch his balance was enough to show you he probably had some sort of concussion and/or a leg injury. It would probably be healed by morning but it was still scary to think about. 

When you got to the room, you entered quietly, not wanting to wake him up in case he was asleep. It was a good thing, too, because he was out cold on a little bench next to a pillar. You tiptoed over to the chair placed next to his head and sat down, setting the first-aid kit under your chair. Before you opened your book to start reading, you folded the jacket wrapped around your waist and gently lifted his sleeping head to place it underneath. After you finished, satisfied with how he looked at least a little more comfortable, you opened the book and started to read, balancing the flashlight you brought in the crook of the chair’s headrest and body so you could see the words on the pages. 

It must have been at least an hour or two before Hyun-su started to stir. You thought nothing of it at first until it happened again. He let out a small sound you almost didn’t hear but from the way he was moving and groaning you knew it must have been a dream that wasn’t all that dream-like. 

You placed your hand on his forehead to feel his temperature and it seemed like an instant change in his behavior. His groans quieted and he stopped moving, save for the occasional twitch. You lifted your hand, satisfied that he was calmer and returned to your book. It was only a few minutes later that his thrashing and mumbling and groaning returned, this time seeming worse and more intense. You hesitated but placed your hand on his forehead again, experimenting and seeing if what you thought might happen would happen.

Sure enough, he calmed down almost instantly and you sighed again. Moving your hand, you brought it down to his bicep instead of his head, leaving it resting there while you used your other hand to continue reading your book.

[amethystfairy1]

🎉 Happy New Years! 🎉

It's been a loooong year so I figured I may as well make a post about it, as well as talk a bit about my plans for 2025! As you know, I tend to ramble, so this got a little long, and maybe sounds a little too much like an Oscars acceptance speech...whoopsie 😅...but from the bottom of my heart I genuinely just felt like I needed to get all these emotions that were emotion-ing today thinking about the New Year out for those of you who have played a part in giving them to me.

If you have a few minutes, please do give it a read through!

The Mushy Stuff:

Firstly, and most importantly beyond a doubt, I want to thank everyone who's been so incredibly kind and supportive of my writing this past year! Every kudos, comment, like, follow, ask, all of them have been treasured by me!

I've had a very difficult year. As I've mentioned before, I'm a full-time masters student. I also work a nearly full-time job on top of that. And while I don't like my blog to have anything to do with my train wreck of an irl life this year, let's just say it hasn't been great...lots of stuff went down, lots of things went wrong, so on and so forth.

Point is, my tippy taps have been crucial to my mental health. I started TTSBC, literally posted the first story 'Pretty Boy' on my very first day as a grad student, sitting there in the office with the knowledge that between school, work, and things happening in my own life, and I'd be having a really rough couple of years to get this degree done.

I finish in May, and I feel confident with my work, I'm ahead of the curve, I'm doing well, and I think that's in no small part because of my tippy taps. These AUs, the writing challenges, the amazing friends I've made and the little community that's somehow decided for whatever reason to form around my obsession with the block people, they've been a very big part of what's kept me going through all of this.

Knowing I could count on people to read my work, to enjoy it, that I could give someone out there something to relate too or even just make them smile if they were feeling as shitty as I was, that made me feel better. It's been so, so important to me.

So thank you. Thank you for following Through the Sky-Blue Cracks and Traveling Thieves. Thank you for screaming over my Whumptober and Febuwhump collections. Thank you for following me, for chasing me and my thoughtful Batman gif around in the asks, for playing along with my goofy-ass side blog, for commenting and kudos-ing and somehow materializing the instant a chapter goes up even before I post the tumblr notif. It means a lot more than I think any words I could come up with would convey.

I also really really really want to thank my Tinted Glass crew!

@silver-sunray This is all your fault. You started this 😤 And by that I mean you made these AUs and me screaming into the void alone so much more than that. It's because of you that I started to fight the fear, scuttle out of my shell and start actually trying to talk to others in this little online sphere. Your incredible work on the Beyond project and now in helping with my side blog and all our other plans and projects mean the world to me! You always have so much spunk and confidence whenever any ideas pop up that I suddenly feel like it's so much more is achievable thanks too you. I'm so very happy you reached out to me this year and I know so much that I've done with my writing wouldn't have happened without you 💖

@boo-the-ahh you're just the sweetest! You always make everything feel so light even when things are complicated or heavy, and you don't even know it! I love getting to work with you on the podfics and our other projects we've been plotting! You're always so full of energy and enthusiasm and encouragement that makes me feel like I can come up with the most whack-ass idea and you'll just back me up, and that's absolutely amazing! I'm so happy you reached out to me and started podficcing for me! Your work is incredible! You put in so much effort, your final products are always so beautifully polished and you always go the extra mile even when it makes things trickier. I admire that so much! And I apologize in advance for the sheer amount of my writing you're probably doomed to have to read out loud in the coming year 😅

@khoirkid You're just a marvel, in my opinion, which I know you don't share but shhhhhhhh. You come up with masterpieces at the drop of a hat, and the fact that you are willing to draw my whack-ass lil guys is still just unfathomable to me. You're always so easy to talk too and down to earth, and you're so creative and imaginative with how you weave symbols into your art with different imagery and color! I feel like half the time the stuff you come up with is so articulate and amazing that it goes over my head, but that's fine! 😆 You're so knowledgable and you have a perspective on things that helps me think things through. I love getting to work with you and I'm so very grateful for all the gorgeous illustrations, and for all the time you've given to me that's made me feel a little less alone.

All three of y'all are just so cool and supportive and talented that most of the time I don't get why you're hanging out over here and giving so much of your time and energy to these projects of mine, but I'm forever grateful that I have you as my friends. So thank you. 💜

Plans for 2025:

Ok, now that I've gotten my emotions all emotion-ed out, let's talk a little bit about my plans for the New Year!

Of course I'll still be continuing TTSBC and TT! No doubt about it! There's big things happening in both the AUs, and I'm so very excited to share them with everyone!

I'll be finishing my degree in May...to be perfectly honest, I'm still unsure of how much of a workload I'm gonna end up having academically this last semester, so I think I'll just say that if updates slow down a bit, just assume Amethyst is drowning under piles of revisions doused in red ink and a bunch of reference texts and papers due to be graded. I promise I'm not gonna just stop tippy tapping! I don't think my brain would be able to handle it if I did 😅

As far as some of the typical challenges go, I will not be participating in Febuwhump this year. I wish I could, but I know I'll definitely have too much going on academically to commit to another writing challenge...also I think Whumptober almost killed both Khoir and I, and we don't need to be doing that again anytime soon 😵‍💫 I'm still gonna check out the prompt list, and if I see a few prompts that I find particularly intriguing maybe I'll write those up, and do a few of the days, but I won't be doing the full writing challenge.

Jury is still out on Hermit-a-Day May, which I'm hopeful will be running again this year! I'd love to do it, but I'll have to make that later, once I know for certain how my workload is feeling since I'll be doing my final revisions, my defense, all that good stuff in late April, which is when I'd typically be working up my fics for Hermit-a-Day May.

I will be doing Whumptober. No questions about it!

I have a few other Hermit/Traffic/Empires fanfic projects on the back burner that I'm working on here or there whenever I need to take a lil break from TTSBC and TT. One of them is a project that all of the Tinted Glass Crew is working on together, and while I don't wanna give spoilers, I'll just say that it's going to be a ton of fun! It's unlike any other AU or one-off I've ever done before, and even just brainstorming it has been incredible so please look forward to it!

I also have my original series. Which...I haven't talked about, not really. I'm pretty nervous about putting it out there, to be honest, but it's my baby and I've been working on it for over four years now. It's written in a similar style to TTSBC and TT, that is, focused on queer romance and found family in a ton of stories all organized in chronological order and written up and down on a timeline. One of my big hopes for this year is to finally share this series. I dunno where yet, or when...it'll definitely wait until after I finish my degree in May, that much is for certain, but I suppose I just wanted to prime everyone. The Tinted Glass Crew has already been so amazingly kind as to agree to help me find a way to get this story that's so dear to me out to all of y'all someway somehow...and I'm confident if I have those guys on my team we'll figure it out! 😅

I hope, if you've enjoyed TTSBC and TT and any of my other work, you'll at least give my original blorbos a shot whenever they are freed from their little cage in my notebooks and save files. They're not so different from the way I write my MCYT characters, they're a bunch of big gay idiots with personality issues, a ton of tangled up secrets, and more trauma than you can shake a stick at...and they're mine, which means I really like to put them through the wringer. 😆 But after everything I've done over this past year and even further back here on this blog, on A03, and in this little community, I feel like maybe they might find themselves a home in at least some of your hearts...or maybe just piss you off with their poor life decisions and accidentally give you brainrot, who knows.

Anyway, this has been a lot. Sorry I tend to ramble...all of this is just to say thank you. I had a lot of fun this year, getting to share my stories with all of you, and I hope you'll continue to support me as I tippy tap my way into the New Year!

-Amethyst

[softsoule]

The Wolf and The Rabbit P2.

Warning: This is my first story I'm not a writer never wrote or published anything before but I thought I would make this story so please don't criticize me too much. I hope you all enjoy that do read this!

*Pairing: Cha Hyun-Su x Reader Part One Part Three

"Not until the wolf has its snack." Those words were all your body needed to gain the strength to run.

You struggle to get to your feet, your legs wobble. He watches you in amusement. You bolt towards the door, going as fast as your feet can take you, but its not fast enough. He's hot on your trail, not breaking a sweat; it's almost as if he's not even trying.

The debris from the dilapidated building causes you to trip and fall. You try to get up, but your legs defy you. You scream out in frustration, and you begin to crawl forward, creating space between you and this wicked beast, but it's not enough.

You hear his laughter bounce off the walls; it echoes. This is fun for him—the game of wolf and rabbit. The game you so desperately don't want to play, but it's too late; you've already entered the devil's playground.

The monster is ascending upon you; he's unnervingly close.

"This is it. This is my end." you think to yourself.

"Where do you think you're going, little rabbit?" he asks.

He suddenly dashes towards you, and in a split second, you are lifted and slammed against the corridor wall. You scream in pain; you're almost sure he's broken something. The pain is unbearable. Your eyes sting with hot tears.

You wail and beg, "Please don't hurt me; it's me, Cha Hyun-Su. I know you're in there." you plead.

Your pleas fall on deaf ears. The monster eats it up; your sorrow, your desperation, and your fear makes him hungrier. He wants to hear you cry and suffer even more; he wants you to feel so hopeless that you beg him to put an end to your suffering. Your pleas and wails do something to him more than killing does. It fills a void he never knew he had.

He lays his head in the crook of your neck and almost purrs as he deeply inhales. Your scent, your fragrance of fear, is one unlike anything he's ever smelled. It smells so aromatic, like jasmine. You squirm and cry out, desperately pleading to be set free.

He wants to hear more of it; he wants to hear you beg him and plead for mercy. He wants you to worship him. He wants to own your body, mind, and soul. He wants you.

"Shh, little rabbit," he coos. His lips are now leaving tender kisses and nibbles on your neck.

"Please" you beg. "Please, what?" he asks.

Your body starts to tingle as he now starts to brush against your hips. "P-Please let me go," you stutter. He hums. "What does the wolf get if he lets the rabbit go?" he asks.

"What do you want?" you breathlessly ask. Your mind now clouded almost forgetting about the pain your in as his kisses and love bites now trail from your neck down to your chest. He suddenly stops releasing you from his trance.

He lowers his face to yours and whispers "You".

Overwhelmed by the multitude of emotions your feeling, you try to respond but your cut off by the force of his lips crashing into yours.

You squirm and struggle to break free from this devil of a man, but his lips are so enticing. The taste of him on your tongue so sweet like the forbidden fruit he is. Your body caves in falling victim to the monster you so desperately wanted to flee from.

Ignoring the pain in your side, you toss your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. He roughly sticks his tongue in your mouth, you pull him in further allowing him to dominate you.

[darksturnioloqueen]

Sadistic!Matt x Gun

Please Read BEFORE Continuing To Gun!!!

This chapter is HEAVY. It NEEDED to be.

This is a huge turning point for Matt and Pet.

With that information being said, if any type of GUN PLAY or mentions of being uncomfortable during sexual activity for any reason or at any point, or any scenarios with those descriptions make you uncomfortable or TRIGGER you, PLEASE SKIP to the part HIGHLIGHTED GREEN. (Read from there.)

For anyone continuing to read Gun:

Please do not read it to comment negatively on it. This defeats the purpose of all my warnings above. I wrote this portion of their love story based on the voting poll. This chapter had an overwhelming amount of votes (CLEAR WINNER) Enjoy.

⚠︎Trigger Warning: light stalking vibe, mention of masturbation, recording without consent, angry Sadistic!Matt, irrational toxic thinking, screaming/ yelling, name drop of a gun, mention of murder, mention of suicide, holding gun to head, breaking in... per usual, void!Sadistic!Matt (another variation of him <3), talk of cheating, toxic relationship behavior, crying, name calling (not sexy), feeling guilty, mention of shooting you, choking, passing out, reminding you he controls you, being tied up/ restrained, being confined under someone, GUN PLAY (being used as intimidation), being truly scared, being played with like a toy, being pistol whipped in the face, Sadistic!Matt turned on from your fear and pain, hit with gun repeatedly, admitting to sleeping with someone for money, punishment, light mention of not fully consenting, toxic thoughts about owing him sex, GUN PLAY (FULLY IN play, iykyk), manipulation with a gun (slightly), being numb, Sadistic!Matt wanting to truly hurt you, ramming inside you (no verbal consent but in this context it's okay), being smacked, Sadistic!Matt getting extremely rough, getting uncomfortable during sex, sudden behavior change, AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST MY BABY!!!!! shy!Sadistic!Matt 🥹<3333 ⚠︎

**This Fic Series will NOT be for people with triggers. This Fic Series will have very descriptive moments of Sadism.**

Sadistic (Sadism - The Act Of Being Sadistic)

Deriving (getting) pleasure from inflicting (causing) pain, suffering, or humiliation on others.

Please Read At Your Own Risk.

Matt was smarter. He knew. He knew, but that didn't mean he wanted to. Two days ago he had a business meeting. It was in town. He was already annoyed that he had to go to the meeting. He was a silent investor in a tech company. Having to go to a meeting defeated the purpose of being a silent investor. Nonetheless, he was needed for a decision, which could affect his stake in the company. Even though the meeting was in town, he couldn't miss seeing what you were up to, even just for a few hours.

He became addicted to having access to you 24/7. He would eat breakfast and watch you sleep in. He noticed that since he came over that night to sleep with you, you have been able to sleep with him while watching. He was happy he could help. He would watch you get dressed while he was in the shower, obvious reasons there. He would stroke his wet dick and watch you tease him unknowingly. He would watch you all the time, addicted to everything you did. The problem was when he got the work email saying he was required at the upcoming meeting. He panicked. He knew he couldn't miss the meeting and risk losing his source of income, but he couldn't take a monitor with a direct link to a young woman's home to it either. Of course, you consented fully; it was your idea, but no one there would know that.

Matt had to leave the screen at home, but he was smart. He managed to set up an inside app that would tap the screen after a certain number of minutes to prevent the monitor from going idle. Then he got out one of his old video cameras, installed a new battery, and set it up to record the picture. He thought through and acted all that out while you were asleep that morning.

After his meeting, he got home and set the camcorder's footage aside to watch the next morning while you were asleep. He watched it during breakfast. You were passed out and looked beautiful. He hated your satin pink bed sheets, but he loved how they flowed around your leg and waist, covering you in a way that made you look touchable. He craved touching you every time he watched you.

"What the fuck?" He sat forward in his chair. He was looking at the recorder, brows furrowed. He rewound the tape a few seconds and watched something fly across the webcam's view. He went back and watched it again. He zoomed in, which pixelated the screen a little, and watched it again. His eyes widened as he recognized the color. Pink. Everything you owned was some variation of pink, but he noticed every detail of your life. He wasn't made nonchalant. He was made to keep track of everything. Everything. Including this special pink dress. You openly told him it was your uniform. He remembered. The difference with this pink dress was that it came with a bit of black. The darkest thing you owned was this dress with that kiss of black. He couldn't forget.

He continued playing the footage back. He watched you undress, and he wasn't excited in the slightest. He knew what this was. This fake strip tease was the alibi—the lie. You were lying to him about what you were genuinely wearing and what you were doing. Matt felt his blood boiling. He felt his anger reaching a new level of rage. He felt his face getting hot, and his eyes started hurting. He slammed his fists on the table. "You are fucking kidding me." He screamed in his empty house. The sound was swallowed by the walls. He seethed for a minute, letting his brain catch up to his body's responses. 

"Fucking bitch." He stood up and trudged into his bedroom. He walked over to his closet and pulled down a lock box. Without questioning himself, he unlocked the box and held the Springfield Hellcat in his hand. He wasn't sure why he had a gun; in his mind, it took all the fun and excitement out of killing someone. He bought it years ago. He had it out once and left it in the lockbox since. He cocked back the top and looked inside. One bullet. He didn't own any more nine-millimeter ammo than the one single shot inside.

He stared at it, thinking about the time he considered ending his own life with the single round. He was at a point in his life where the pain he was feeling wasn't pleasurable in any form, and he felt like there was nothing more for him. If he couldn't have love with anyone because he scared them away every time, and he couldn't have stimulating pain without consequences, he didn't see a point. The pain he felt then was much like what was boiling inside of him now. He hadn't felt like this in years. He took the gun and looked at the mirror in his room. He held it up to the side of his head and smiled wickedly into his reflection. He couldn't explain how or why but felt a small moment of relief from his anger. He lowered the gun and tucked it into his waistband under his shirt. "If I can't have her, no one can." He walked out and got into his car.

His mind was no longer racing. His anger was no longer hot. He was numb. He felt nothing. He broke into the back door like a professional. He saw your laptop on the coffee table and instantly knew his suspicions were correct. This made the feeling come back. The feeling he wanted to avoid in the first place with you. The hair on his arm raised a little, and his skin became clammy and hot. He pulled out the gun. He tip-toed into your room. After debating a moment of weakness and touching your assuming smooth skin, he sat in the computer chair with the gun in his hand. He waited. According to your normal schedule, you will be up soon. He waited.

Time passed, and you hadn't woken up yet. That pissed him off more. He knew why you were tired. You had spent all night cheating on him. "Eh, hem." He cleared his throat, making his presence known. You stirred and smiled softly before fully opening your eyes. You already knew that if anyone had broken in, it was Matt.

"Good -" Your voice trailed off, noticing his face. You could tell immediately something was wrong. You sat up and scanned the picture before you. Matt was sitting in your computer chair, resting his elbows on his knees. His head was hung low and forward, glaring at you. In his hand was a gun. You did not know what was happening but knew it wouldn't end well. "Matt?" You choked on your air. Your chest was rising and falling fast.

"Tell me." His voice was past cold. It was void. There was nothing. His eyes held no sign of emotion. If you didn't know they weren't naturally the lightest blue, you'd think they were black right now.

"Tell you what?" You knew. You knew he knew, but there was no way in hell with him pissed off in your bedroom with a gun, you were going to admit to that.

"Don't fucking play stupid right now!" His voice boomed, causing you to jump and grab your blanket for some sort of comfort. You know that the bullets in his gun would pierce through the thin fabric and your body quickly, but not having your body exposed made you feel better about the situation.

"Matt, I -" You started, but he stood up, halting your words.

"Tell me." He kept repeatedly thinking that no one could have her, if I couldn't have her. That phrase alone drove all reason out of his mind, and he pointed the gun at you. Without missing a beat, your tears fell faster than they were brimming.

"Matt, I'm sorry. I had to. I have bills. It's my job."

"Cheating on me is your job?" Even through the immense fear you felt, you caught his voice cracking. It was subtle, definitely on accident. This tipped you off. You knew what this was about. You made learning Matt your new hobby a while ago, and with your excellent manipulation skills, you were able to learn him quickly. That voice crack was all you needed to know what was going on.

"I would never think about cheating on you." You slowly lowered the blanket. He held the gun strong. Close enough to threaten you but far away enough you couldn't touch it.

"You let someone else fuck you, you fucking slut." He screamed. His voice was the only thing moving through the air. His words hurt. You knew you weren't a slut, and even if you were, you could shrug that off. His words hurt because they were true. You let someone else touch your body, and you feel guilty about it.

"Matt, I -" He never let you get a chance to explain. If he gave it to you, he was worried he'd go blank enough to pull the trigger on you.

"No. I told you I didn't like it. I told you! I opened up to you. You are just like the rest." Matt started pouring out words that didn't make sense to you. You swung your feet off the edge of the bed. He stood like stone. Gun pointed.

"Matt, I can't quit. I need the money. It's my life." Your voice was calm but shaky. You weren't trying to lie to him, but you weren't trying to fight either.

"You are fucking mine." He lunged at you, grabbing your neck in his hand swiftly. You looked up at him, eyes twinkling. The fear of the gun being in play was still scary, but you couldn't help from getting turned on with your fucked up mind. "Choke." He looked down into your eyes. You saw them less blank and more filled with lust. As soon as you got things to turn slightly sexual, you were able to manipulate him better. You closed your eyes as his thumb and middle finger applied the proper pressure. You felt your head getting dizzy. He usually let up, but he was mad enough to keep going this time. "I could fucking kill you." You heard him whisper as you felt your body land back on the bed.

Your eyes were dark, and you saw stars. You went to rub your eyes to help them come into focus, but your hands were stuck. You kept trying but couldn't move anything. You opened your eyes and saw your room ceiling. That brought you comfort. You turned your head to see Matt hovering over you, gun in hand. "Matt?" You saw your wrists tied to the headboard with one of your hair ribbons. Matt mounted on top of you, his knees hugging your hipbones. You looked back at him, wondering what he was going to do.

"I want to fucking kill you, Pet." He tucked the gun under your chin. Your heart pounded, feeling the cold steel kissing your neck. You shivered uncomfortably. This wasn't Matt. You were terrified of him.

"Are you -"

"Going to?" He finished for you. Your mouth gaped slightly. You weren't sure if you should continue asking questions now. He was playing with you, the very thing that almost drove you away he was doing to you right now. "Maybe. Depends on how honest you are." He pulled the gun back and rested his hands on the bed so his face was closer to yours. "Did you cheat on me?" You knew both of you knew the answer, but he just wanted to play with you like a toy.

"No." You started feeling tears well up. Without hesitation, he wielded the gun across your cheek. Your head flicked to the side, and you felt the welt burning on your face. "Hmph." You whimpered. You felt him get hard instantly. You slowly rolled your neck and looked to see his dick print through his boxers.

"Pet. Let's not lie now." He smirked slightly. He was enjoying this. "Did you cheat on me?" He held the gun handle high. Ready.

"Matt, I would never."

"Shut the fuck up, you fucking lying bitch!" The gun collided with my body. It would bruise, but it was nothing compared to the sting on your cheek.

"I slept with him for money. It's my job." You admitted.

"You cheated," he yelled. "You need to be punished." His voice flipped utterly calm, which unnerved you.

"Punished, how?" You were used to punishment from your job, but you knew it would always be light and shy. They were afraid to hurt you—not Matt. Matt lived for this rush.

"I can't exactly shoot you. That would be too easy. I just need to figure out how to make you... squirm." He slowly trailed the gun down your body as he spoke calmly. The gun halted just as it touched your pelvis.

"Matt, I don't like this." You wanted to be honest about how he was making you feel. He tugged your silk shorts down and smiled.

"But I do." You knew it wouldn't make a difference if you didn't consent.

"Okay." You breathed out. No matter the moment, you still wanted to make him happy. And after everything at the hotel, you felt like maybe you owed him a little happiness, even if it was at your expense. "Easy." You closed your eyes when the barrel tip started moving lower again.

"Did you think of me?" The tip of the barrel moved around your folds. You were only a little wet, nowhere near as much as you should be. He pushed the gun in a little, and you shivered, feeling the cold metal not warm like his dick would have felt.

"Yes. The whole time." You jerked your body, feeling him push it in further.

"Don't lie." His voice was light and airy.

"I want you. Matt." Your breath hitched. He slowly started pushing the gun in and out. For a moment, if your brain could forget it was a gun, it wouldn't have felt that bad. He kept moving it in and out, his eyes locked on your face. He wasn't even concerned about the gun in your pussy.

"How are you going to fix this?" He asked.

"I'll do anything." You wanted this to stop. You wanted him to be inside of you instead.

"Not yet." His eyes were wicked. He started to shove it in and out recklessly. Your arms started feeling heavier as you lay helplessly tied up, being fucked by his gun. You didn't even know he owned a gun. Your insides were beginning to quiver, partially from fear and partially from the now-warm metal gliding in and out of you at a pace no one could naturally replicate. Matt's face was full of anger and thoughts. You didn't fight back or give him the satisfaction of enjoying it. You were numb now, too, just like him.

"Fuck!" His scream shattered the silence, making you jump. "I just want to fucking hurt you!" He retracted the gun and set it down on the bed. His hands grabbed his head. You watched him battle with himself. You wondered what he could possibly be feeling that was causing this rush of needing to cause you immense pain. Within seconds of his hands dropping from his ruffled hair, he reached into his waistband and pulled his cock out. You knew you were about to get what you wanted but were still on edge because this Matt was different. He was anger-driven. He rammed into you without hesitating. Your back arched instantly, and you felt his thickness compared to the gun barrel.

"Ugh." Your moan was expected, but Matt's hands roughly handling you weren't. He smacked you for expressing your pleasure, reigniting the pain the weapon left on your cheekbone. You examined his face. He was stern but void. Still Nothing. He gripped your breasts as he pounded into you rougher and rougher. You were wet. Even though this didn't feel like your typical experience with Matt, it still felt good. "Hmm." You hummed. Matt responded by punching your side.

"Fuck!" He gripped your throat again, ramming in and out of your body. The whole bed was shaking. He needed to hurt you—the insatiable rage building inside him.

"Matt..." You whimpered. Your nerves were picking up again, letting you know they were lower before this moment. The more the bed shook and the faster his pace became, the more uncomfortable he was in between your thighs. He stopped suddenly, making you think you won. "Ar- are you done?" You dared to ask.

"I can't." His head fell low for a second while he caught his breath. His fully erect penis is still buried deep inside you.

"Ca- can't?" You questioned.

"I said I can't." Matt glanced up at your tied body. You did not understand. Matt slowly reached up and started tugging one of your ribbon strings loose. While he untied the silky white ribbon, he mumbled something.

"What?" You couldn't make out his words. Once your hands were free, he helped you move your arms down to your side. He looked you in the eyes, and you saw it. The emotion he carried was thick and finally showing. His fingers slowly increased their grip on your arms as if he were scared you were going to try and get away from him.

"I love you." His eyes quickly closed tightly as if to hide from the words he had just spoken, causing little wrinkles near his cheeks. You watched him as he again dropped his head. You giggled, seeing him timid. You secretly loved knowing you had power over him, even in a small way.

"Matt," you begged him to look at you quietly. He slowly started raising his head, his eyes still hiding from you behind his eyelids. You reached out and gently brushed his floppy brown hair over to the side. He slowly but surely opened his eyes and again looked directly at you. His eyes were still the same, glossed over with emotion. "I love you."

[just-a-creep-babe]

Graveyard Shift - Part 6

Eyeless Jack x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Commissioned again by @salixlantana <3 -- Thank you so much darling, I really hope you enjoy!! <33

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

She needs relief

It’s all she can think about as her touch moves further and further down her form

It’s been too long

The grueling hours at work, the stress of everything that’s been happening, the haze of paranoia seemingly always crowding her mind—it's been one endless void of anxiety and misery

She hasn’t been taking the time she needs for herself, and now that she’s opened up to the idea, the desire that crashes into her is sudden, intense and all too urgent

She presses a finger over her clit, a hushed breath escaping her as she does, and a flood of warmth spreads up her stomach, coiling into a knot of tension

Her thoughts wander, and she thinks back to the masked man—the pleasantly low hum of his voice, the sheer shape and size of him, the way he always seems to fixate on her—even despite his lack of eyes

She thinks back to his hands, rough and calloused and lined with dark veins, and she wonders what it’d be like if it was him touching her instead

She wonders about the warmth of his body, the firmness of his skin, the precision of his movements

Would he be rough, would he be hungry and impatient and eager to turn her into a quick mess?

Or would he be slow and gentle, pouring care and affection into every second of his touch gliding over her skin?

Her breath hitches in her throat, brows furrowing with concentration as she rubs herself over her underwear

Waves of pleasure shudder through her form, coaxing yet another breathless moan to escape her

Her back arches up, eyes fluttering closed and her lips parting as her empty sex clenches around nothing

She imagines she’s clenching around him instead of nothing; around his thick length, throbbing and pulsing with veins similar to the ones on his hands

And the more she imagines it, the more she can feel her underwear grow slicker with arousal

Her body burns for his touch

From outside, through the open cracks of the curtains, Jack watches the scene unfold

He’s mesmerized by the sight—fuck, he can practically smell her from where he's standing

He shouldn’t be watching

He shouldn’t be gawking through her window like some kind of creep while she’s doing something so personal, so private and so intimate

But it’s the first time he witnesses her do something like that—he didn’t even know if she had those needs in the first place—and he just can’t look away

He’s entranced—like she’s put some kind of spell on him

Her face contorts with pleasure, her brows furrowing as she pants and gasps, her chest heaving with every labored breath

Jack tries to absorb every minuscule detail he can see from where he is

God, he’s fucking aching in his pants

Acting purely on instinct, he brings a hand to his bulge and starts palming himself through his jeans

He can't see beneath those damn sheets covering her body, but he still tries to imagine it, tries to imagine seeing her fully naked

Soft, warm and malleable; what he wouldn’t give to be able to touch her

What he wouldn’t give for the chance to eat her out, to have her hips rocking against his face as she tenses up and screams his name as she cums

He makes a low, husky sound without meaning to, increasing the pace of his hand over his pants to match the speed she’s using on herself

She grows closer and closer to release, judging by her louder, more eager moans and the way her whole body seems to be glowing

But then, right as it looks like she’s about to cum, she stops abruptly, her eyes flashing open like something’s interrupted her moment of bliss

Jack stops as well, freezing in place

Did she see him?

Did she somehow sense that she’s being watched, and it pulled her out of the moment?

He swallows thickly, trying to slink further back into the shadows

Guilt knots in his chest as he pulls his hand away from his needy cock

He shouldn’t stick around to see if he’s been caught—fuck, he shouldn’t have been peeking through her window in the first place

But despite his best judgment, he doesn’t leave

He stays rooted in place, curiosity getting the better of him

And then he watches as a mix of guilt and confusion flash across her face, not too dissimilar from what he’s feeling right now, and then, with a worried look, she stands and makes her way to the bathroom

He can’t see anything more when she closes the door behind herself, so he’s ultimately left with two options; either stay there like a sick kind of perv with an obvious boner, or call it a day and retreat home

He votes for the latter

Try as he might to forget about what happened on his way back to the mansion, he just can’t

She’s all he can think about

Those sounds she made—just barely audible through the window, the perfume of her arousal, the look of bliss on her face—he can’t—he doesn’t want to forget

He tries to act as inconspicuous as possible when he walks through the double doors of the mansion, and then he's quietly making his way through the various corridors of the haunted building

When he’s finally back in his room, he shuts the door behind himself and thinks, Fuck

He doesn’t know what to do

He’s so pent-up

His sight drifts to his bed, and he considers finding relief the most obvious way he can

But with the memory of her touching herself firmly locked in his mind, he’s worried it’ll trigger a heat—something he actively tries to avoid as much as possible

Hunt

He hasn’t eaten in a while, and it’s probably aggravating his instincts

He should go for a hunt

Not wasting a second longer, he grabs the few things he needs, and then he’s going back down through the mansion and heading out through the same doors he walked in through

The whole way to the nearest big city, he can’t stop replaying the scene over and over again in his head

She looked so divine—she smelled so delectable

His mouth salivates at the memory, and he silently prays eating will be enough to satiate his hunger for her body, even though it’s starting to seem like a long shot, at this point

As usual, he maneuvers his way to the wealthier neighborhoods, then follows his nose to the most appetizing scent

While there are usually more meats to choose from in the slums of the city, he could never forgive himself for taking from people who already have so little

The wealthier, he’d decided long ago, could probably more easily afford healthcare for whatever damages he does to their systems

His instincts lead him to a decently-sized apartment complex, which he manages to slip in with relative ease

The interior is a wide open space with carpeted floors, beige walls, and an elevator at the front and center of it all

He spots a few cameras here and there, but with his hood thrown up over his head to cover his mask, he isn’t too worried about raising alarm—if there even is someone up so late to watch the cameras

And after the many, many years of sneaking into places he shouldn’t be allowed in, getting caught isn’t something he worries about anymore anyways

Opting to stay away from the elevator, he instead takes the stairway at the far left of the building, and lets his senses guide him all the way up

He reaches the fourth floor, where the scent seems to be the strongest, then makes his way through the hallway until he comes across the right door

With a simple credit card trick, he unlocks the door, slips inside, then quietly turns the lock behind himself

Even though it’s completely dark inside, he can still see perfectly fine, so he has no trouble maneuvering around the kitchen and to his victim’s room

Door left wide open, he can see the shape of a woman’s body under the covers, her breathing slow and steady in her sleep

He steps through the threshold of the door, then gently makes his way to her side

He’s about to administer the sedative, when he notices her hair is the same length, color and texture as (y/n)’s hair

He pauses in his tracks, taking a closer look at her

Fuck, even the shape and size of her body are similar

For a split second, he almost wonders if it’s somehow her

It’s not possible, and he knows it’s just his mind playing tricks on him, but he wants it to be real

He wants it to be her so that he can pull her body against his and press his mouth to her skin before tasting her—tasting all of her

The idea snaps him out of his hunter’s trance, but he quickly tries to shake the thought away

He shouldn’t get distracted

He presses the needle in, piercing through her skin, and she makes a low, quiet noise from the back of her throat in an unconscious response to the intrusion

Crap

Immediately as she does, he’s flooded by a wave of perverse desires

What if he made (y/n) moan like that—moan so much louder than that?

Coupled with the view he had of her just a very short while ago, it’s enough for him to lose focus and fuck up the injection

It’s just a split-second mistake, but it’s more than enough for the woman to wake up

He hasn’t fucked up in so long, it actually surprises him just as much as it surprises the woman that there’s a masked figure standing over her bed

When he manages to gather himself, so does she, and while he’s panicking between either talking her down or restraining her to finish the injection, her survival instincts kick in

He doesn’t expect her to act so quickly

He especially doesn’t expect her to grab the lamp from her nightstand and smash it into him

With a grunt, he stumbles back, dazed by the impact, and it gives the woman the perfect chance to scream, throw something else at him—a book, this time—and then jump out of her bed and make a run for it

He can’t reach her before she rushes through the door because of the bed acting as an obstacle, and when he manages to catch up to her, she slams the bedroom door against him

He stops it before it can knock him into a daze again, but doing so grants her just barely enough time to get to the kitchen and pull out a knife

Great

Between fight, flight or flee, it seems she’s chosen to fight—the most tedious instinct to deal with

Both hands tightly clutching the knife in front of her, she stands in front of him, courageously blocking him even despite the way she’s shaking

He can smell the fear and adrenaline pumping through her system

“What—what do you want?”

Her voice is uneven, panic clogging her throat, and there’s a wild look in her eyes, like that of a trapped animal

He doesn’t bother answering

He simply takes a menacing step forwards

He, again, doesn’t expect her to mimic that step and then try to violently slash the knife into him

Her movements, however, are clumsy and inexperienced, so it isn’t difficult for him to catch her wrist and block her attack

And with one final step closer, he jams the needle into her neck and finishes the injection

She croaks, making a horrible choking sound as he drains the remaining sedative inside her veins

Her body goes limp as she slowly loses muscle control, and he finally drops his guard, letting himself relax as the situation returns under control

He catches her before she falls to the floor, and holding her in his arms like that, so up-close and personal, gives him as much time as he wants to properly inspect her features

She’s, admittedly, pretty, but she doesn’t nearly hold any of the subtleties or fine details that make (y/n) so appealing

She doesn't even compare to (y/n)'s perfection

Still, the whole thing has him thinking about what it’d be like if it was (y/n) he was holding instead of just some random woman

If (y/n) was in his arms, her face just inches away, what could really stop him from pressing his lips to hers if he wanted to?

He, again, imagines her taste, her body flush against his, her moans and whimpers and expressions as he touches her, as he pleases her

He gets too distracted again, too lost in his fantasies, and he doesn’t even think to consider that the syringe might not have been as effective with only half of it properly injected

Because with one final struggled breath of effort, the woman reawakens, jerks her arm up, and the knife still clutched in her hand plunges into Jack’s ribs

He hisses, letting her fall to the hard wooden floor as he stumbles back

Pain bursts through his chest, knocking the wind out of him

He reaches out to the hilt where blade meets flesh, and he grunts as he feels the familiar warmth of blood rush to his wound

Shit

Even though he desperately wants to yank the damn thing out, he has more than enough medical knowledge to know that he shouldn’t

He looks at the girl, now fully passed out in a heap on the floor, and debates whether or not he should even bother to extract her organs at this point

Fuck it, it’s not even worth it

His hands won’t be as steady as usual, and he could very much so risk injuring her—more than he otherwise would’ve

He’s caused enough damage as is

He looks back at the wound again, debates the chances of his body healing faster than the risk of major blood loss if he pulls it out all at once

But she really didn’t miss her target, and the wound is deep

Blade buried all the way to the hilt, the damn thing must be at least five to six inches, and he can’t really tell if it punctured any crucial organs

Relax, he thinks, just relax and think things through

He needs to get out of here, he decides, it’s his first priority right now

This whole thing is bound to get even messier if he waits too long

With a grunt, he pulls himself together, standing and straightening himself out, and then he makes for the door to the hallway

He closes it behind himself, praying he won’t run into anyone on his way out, because he just can’t imagine they’ll have a positive reaction to seeing some guy wandering around with a knife in his gut

But, of course, just his luck, as he turns a corner down the hallway, he nearly bumps directly into someone

Jack tries brushing past them before they see anything, but despite his best efforts, he can’t conceal the injury, and he hears them gasp as they notice his predicament

The stranger’s about to rush forward to help, but when Jack looks up, the sight of his faceless mask and dripping eye sockets make them scream

In a heartbeat, the stranger turns and runs, leaving behind the all-too-familiar scent of stress, fear and adrenaline in their wake

Great, just fucking great

He tries to move faster through the building after that interaction

The pain is, thankfully, manageable, thanks to his body’s natural resilience, but by the time he's made it back down to the first floor, his rushed movements have only further aggravated the wound

And it’s starting to hurt like hell

Still, even once out of the building, he doesn’t give himself a chance to rest

No doubt that guy called the police by now

He doesn’t have time to waste

He slinks into the shadows of the neighborhood, thankful for the fleeting cover of nightfall, even as the horizon begins to turn pale

And then he makes it to the one place he can think of going

(Y/n) wakes up to the sound of rasping at her door

She opens her eyes, and lays there for a second or two, wondering if she just dreamt up the noise or if it was actually real

And, without fail, the sound returns, like something grating against the wooden framing of her door

She gets up, tentatively pushing her covers off, then makes her way to the front of her house

It’s in the very earliest hours of the morning, maybe around five or six, so she can’t imagine whatever’s behind her door is anything but trouble

A lump forms at the back of her throat at the thought

Again, the sound reverberates in her house

Her heartbeat spikes, nerves jumping to high alert

She tries to take a peek at what’s behind her door by craning her neck to look out the window

But the angle just isn’t right, and she can’t properly see anything

Again, the noise rings out, but it almost sounds quieter, more hesitant, this time

(Y/n) tries to swallow down her anxiety

With a shaky hand, she wraps her fingers around the doorknob and slowly turns it open

Even though, at this point, she should probably expect it to be him, she’s still surprised when she comes face-to-face with the person at her door

“Jack?”