#because who in their right mind would want to do what is basically dubbing of a book

[somesmartsmarties]

So I have made a horrible decision

And that is to try and animate THE ENTIRETY of chapter 44 (and a little bit of chapter 43) of Crooked Kingdom because I am a madwoman and Kanej has been rotting my brain for the past few days since I finished the duology and seeing as I so stubbornly refuse to look up any fanart or fanfics of the two until I’m also finished with the King of Scars duology I have taken it upon myself to at least TRY and make some king of content out of that moment

[hybridirl]

i’ve never done this before…

18 + only, please!

ellie x f!loser!reader

a/n: so basically i was on janitor ai because i’m genuinely an addicted freak and this was inspired by a chat i had :3 im also replaying tlou2 bc i cant stop i need it i need it i need it. also i think a LOT more things make sense now, so i think you should replay after u play it.

brief summary: ellie is ur big sister’s best friend! but, unfortunately you’re dubbed an “annoying little sister,” your sister’s not home, ellie’s high when she comes over, and ur a loser nerd who can’t deal with confrontation :(. (au if it wasn’t obvious!)

tw / DUBCON?, ellie is very mean, degrading, praise, pet names, reader is a virgin, small age gap if you really squint, porn without a plot, rushed sex, scissoring (tribbling?), use of y/n i think…

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ꪆৎ ˚

with a grunt, you pulled your pajama pants up the rest of the way. you were headed to the door after hearing seven hard knocks on the door.

“hello—“ you began, cutting yourself off when you see ellie, your sister’s best friend. “ellie?” you glanced behind her, then behind yourself. “she’s not home right now.”

“yeah, yeah,” she slurred, and your lips went into a thin line from her state, so obviously intoxicated. “she told me come ‘n wait. she’s gettin’ her shit rocked, ‘r whatever. she dropped me off ‘ya know? said you wouldn’t mind. you don’ mind, do you?”

being such a caring person had its ups and downs. you weren’t fond of ellie, and she wasn’t fond of you. she had been your biggest bully throughout the entirety of middle and high school. but, you couldn’t deny her entry. she could get hurt or worse, and you didn’t want that. or to be responsible of it.

you adjusted your glasses, eyeing her with a thoughtful look. her eyes were halflidded, red, and she smelled disgusting. she eyed you right back, her stare almost intimidating.

“no, ellie. i don’t mind,” you said begrudgingly, stepping aside to allow her in. you watched her make her way around the all-too-familiar home while you shut the door. you mentally prepared yourself for tending to her needs; you knew she’d tell if you hadn’t. you also prepared for the anger she would inevitably feel. she was an angry person when intoxicated. you leaned against the door and watched her opened the fridge.

“what do you got?” ellie asked, shutting the refrigerator and looking at you. “what’re you gonna make?”

“i don’t know,” you responded and took a glance at the stove. you hadn’t noticed what she took from the fridge, only gasping when you heard the familiar sound of a beer opening. “hey, hey, hey! that’s my dad’s!” you watched ellie shrug and give you a “so what?” look. “stop it, that’s not good for you!” you rushed over, reaching for the beer, but her rough hand kept you in place as she chugged it down. “ellie, stop! you’re already high, that’s gonna make it worse; ellie, stop!”

“and what the fuck do you know?” she asked as she slammed the beer bottle of the counter, “you stupid fuckin’ loser, what the fuck is wrong with you? i’ll do what-the-fuck-ever i want. you’re such a fucking lame-ass, you won’t even take a lil sip o’ this thing,” she stuck the beer can up to your mouth, which you turned away from, “that’s what i thought, you stupid bitch. you’re probably a virgin, too, huh? you don’t even try- nobody even tries for you. no man, no woman, no whatever. never been in a relationship, never been in fuckin’ nothing. you are such a fucking loser.”

your jaw was slack, almost looking like a fish out of water as it tried to shut and open.

“you’re too high for this,” you said slowly, still shocked at her words. you took a step back, your back pressing against the island counter.

“you don’t know the first thing about ‘too high,’ jackass. bet you never had a dick in you before. too busy studyin’ your stupid fucking books to be the good girl you are. can’t even do this because you’re always bein’ a teacher’s pet, always bein’ a goody-two-shoes, know it all, fucking bitch. probably got a few toys like the desperate freak you are. maybe a dildo? nah, you want that pussy t’stay tight, huh?” you thought it couldn’t get worse than the insults before, but this was insane. your eyes were wide, shock filling your features.

“ellie!” you gasped in horror and embarrassment, “i— i’m calling my sister!”

“you’re a fucking snitch!” she giggled, pointing at you. “she doesn’t care what the fuck i’m saying to you. she’s too busy slutting herself out to give a fuck about your pathetic ass, baby.”

“go away, ellie,” you whimpered out, eyes at the ground. you attempted to push past her, but her hands gripped your wrists. “please.”

“you’re not getting rid of me,” she growled, her beer-breath filling your nostrils, “you’re a goddamn joke. i’m not going anywhere ‘til i’m good ‘n ready. you just know i’m right.” she leaned in, her lips brushing your cheek as she whispered deep into your ear, “you just want my hands all over you, don’t you, y/n? i’ve seen how you watched me. you want a real woman’s hands on ‘ya. all of over your pretty body, hm?”

“no,” you whispered right back, your brows furrowed. this was your sister’s best friend. this was just… wrong; you couldn’t explain it, but it wasn’t right. and she was high! she didn’t know what she was doing, what she was saying, but her touch felt so…

“don’t you lie to me,” she huffed her breath hot in your ear, “you wanna get touched bad. you know you do. you want my hands slidin’ down your pretty panties and touchin’ that clit. make you cum all on my hand. you want that, don’t you?”

“ellie,” you almost moaned out at her dirty talk, your brows knitted together in conflict. your hand went to cover your mouth as her hand slipped beneath the waistband of your pjs and simultaneously your underwear.

“let it out, baby,” she told as your hand muffled a broken moan, “you’re already so, so wet for me. this pussy’s just beggin’ for my touch, huh?” her finger-pad ran across your clit and your knees buckled. she giggled in response, a lazy grin plastered on her face. “mm, ya feel that? this’s what y’ve been missin’ out on with all that nerdy bullshit you do.” her fingers slipped easily inside you, making your eyes roll with pleasure; another moan escaped your throat. “y’so tight. just like i thought.” she pulled her fingers out, quickly giving them a lick before tugging your bottoms down. “oh, baby…” she moaned at the sight, licking her lips as she took you in. “look at that pretty pussy. mhm, ‘n all f’r me, huh?” she knelt down, getting face to face with your cunt. “answer me.” she kissed at your inner thighs. all you could do was watch, trembling under her dominating touch.

you yelped, jumping in surprise as she bit your thigh harshly.

“i said answer.”

“y-yes! all for you, ‘s all for you,” you whimpered, whining as her mouth finally met with your drooling pussy. your resolve had slipped away, only thinking about that needy, touch-starved vulva of yours. “oh, ellie…” she grinned as she watching you come undone, your fingers slipping into her hair and tugging at it. she lapped and lapped at your clit, tongue running circles around the sensitive bud. she gave it a last kiss before she pulled away, smirking at your distress.

“preview, baby. all that was. go to your room, m’followin’ you.”

you were anxious to walk, taking just a moment before giddily rushing to your room. the masculine woman easily followed your direction, shutting the door hard behind her as she pulled you down to the bed with her. her hands were immediately on you as you lay atop her, caressing and running down your back, cupping your ass and squeezing.

“you’re so ready for me baby, aren’t you?” she asked with a small smirk playing at her lips. “you wanna grind that pretty pussy on mine, don’t you?”

“i-i’ve never done this before, i-i don’t know what to do,” you admitted, although she already knew your circumstance.

“makin’ me do all the work, you pretty lil pillow princess?” she teased, that same lazy grin on her face. she easily flipped you over, watching your eyes widen in surprise. “god, how are you so perfect…” she moaned softly to herself, her hands running down your sides, down your legs, and down your calves. she reached her jeans, unbuttoning them and tugging them down quickly. you gulped as you eyed her pubic mound, her dark hair trimmed finely.. she lifted your hips up, appreciating your vulva once more. she used her thumb to lift up your clitoral hood, bending down to meet the pearl with her tongue. “mm, god, i can’t get enough of you. pull your shirt up, wanna see those tits ‘ve been wantin’ to see.” you did as you were told, quickly pulling your nightshirt up and showing her your breasts. a groan left her throat as her hands reached out to touch them, tweaking and rolling your nipples between her fingers.

“please,” you whined, your head tilted back. “please, ellie…”

“oh, i know you’re so needy, huh? never done this before? never been touched so good by another girl b’fore, huh?” ellie teased once more, and all you could do was nod. it was all true. “say it, baby. tell me how much of a loser you are.”

with an embarrassed grimace, you obliged, “i-i’m a big loser. ‘ve never, ever gotten laid ‘n i wanna… oh!” you gasped as you felt the sensation of her pussy meet yours. “ellie…” her hips ground against yours, your clits bumping and running across each other.

“you like this? my pussy all over yours?” she growled, rolling her hips to meet your cunt. “fuck, you’re so wet.” you moaned out, your hands trying to find a place to stay as they flailed. they gripped the sheets and you watched above as her pussy slid across yours. you both glistened with a thin layer of sweat, your bodies becoming hot with arousal. “you feel so fucking good.”

“yes,” you cried, “more.” and she gave you more, her hips rolling with fervor while you writhed in pleasure. “p-please— ellie!”

“yeah, scream my name you little slut,” she purred, her auburn hair sticking to her sweaty face. “let ‘em know— let the neighbors know you’re finally getting laid.”

you continued to moan her name, completely drunk on this feeling. she let out small little ‘just like that’s’ as your voice echoed off the walls of your room.

it was intense, your bodies moving together and so perfectly in sync. sweat dripped from her forehead onto your belly, slightly coating your skin. her hands gripped your chest as she ground against you, the position slightly awkward, but pleasing nonetheless as your heats mushed together in symphony. sloppy squelches filled your ears, almost drowned out by your moans and cries as she took you.

“i’m gonna,” you began, tears welling up in your pretty eyes, “i’m gonna cum, ellie!”

“yeah? right on my pussy? cum right on my pussy, baby,” she moaned, her hands reaching her cup her own breast. you moaned, following her command like a dog as your canal contracting around nothing, costing her slick folds in all your essence. your body convulsed as you came, and the sight forced a moan out of her throat. “yeah, that’s it, my good girl, fu—ck… i’m cumming!” with her orgasm following in suit, she gripped your leg hard, riding out her orgasm as you tried to come down from your own. you whined from the overstimulation, feeling her arousal spread out on your flesh. she shushed you, her index finger on your lips as she calmed her breathing. she dropped your leg, plopping beside you with a grunt.

“t-that was good,” you said to her, your eyes lingering on her glistening face.

“mhm, now you get to brag to a—ll your nerdy, little virgin friends that you,” she jabbed a finger, “got laid.”

“you’re mean,” you huffed, a little pout on your face. she smirked, bringing a hand to the back of your neck and bringing you in to kiss.

“yeah?” she chuckled, “but you like it.”

[teratosfavouritesnack]

~ Dirty Hobby ~

roommate!werewolf x afab!reader - roommates to lovers, sexual frustration, (slightly) dub-con, dry humping/frottage, thigh job, impact play, cum play, degradation kink if you squint

3,4k.

Writing stories is a lot of fun. It's a passion for you, something you enjoy doing in your spare time, but you also see it as a way to release emotions that would otherwise weigh on you. Typically, you prefer romance although your stories always end up being far spicier than anticipated. That may reveal something about you, specifically that you need a good fucking, but staying at home all the time and never socializing with anyone doesn't pair well with being sexually active. Last time you let a not-fictitious being fuck you must have been not less than 80 stories ago; 5k words each, mind you.

The only non-fictitious being you interact with on a daily basis is your roommate, Alexis, also known as the 'good boy'. You call him that on occasion simply because you love the way his long fluffy tail eagerly wiggles back and forth, in stark contrast to the grimace he always gives you in answer to your playful mocking. He's also a 'good boy' because he never caused you any trouble in the six months you've been sharing a flat. He is clean, not nosy or noisy, and rarely invites people over, which is a huge plus for you.

Another major benefit of having Alexis as a roommate is that you basically have a living, breathing prototype for the protagonists in your works of fiction. Perhaps it sounds weird, but you've used him as the base of the love interests in your romances more times than you probably should have... Does that imply that you're in love with him? No! Well, not exactly. You could say you are attracted to him. You enjoy his presence, his massive presence, as well as his grave but sweet voice, his kind eyes, his long snout that screams 'pat me! pat me!', his long muscular arms that could so effortlessly sweep you up and...

Anyway. You like the dude. As in, he's a good friend who also happens to be very good to look at. You've done your best to separate him from the dozens of characters he has inspired thus far, and you'd like to keep it that way. Separate. Luckily, he is unaware of your… recreational activity. And he'll never know about it.

However, while your mind has managed to make things feel acceptable and not as odd as they actually are, what your body does is a very different story. Writing erotica has an undeniable impact on the writer, especially if you're describing fantasies you've indulged in far too many times before. What that entails for you is that you're aroused on a regular basis. And the fact that the character from your stories is walking around the house, chatting with you and parading around the very assets you fawn over in your wildest dreams makes it even more difficult for your body to remain partial... Makes things all the more wet, to be precise. Yes. Sometimes it's so uncomfortable that you have to take care of it right away, cleaning up and changing your underwear before returning to your chores. Other times, you just get on with your day despite your damp panties. You're used to it by now, so it's not a major issue for you…

It's a major fucking problem for your roommate, though. You have absolutely no idea. You can't even begin to imagine how challenging it is for a werewolf like him to ignore the scent trail you leave behind wherever you move inside the house. It's actually maddening! A torture! If he didn't know you better, he'd assume you were doing it on purpose just to drive him nuts. He tried to remain unaffected, to suppress his urges, but weeks after weeks after weeks, your scent became all he could smell inside the house, inside his own bedroom; even the food tasted like you! He considered moving out, to avoid the risk of doing something he would definitely regret. He does not want to hurt you, of course. It could be a situation beyond your control or a health issue. What does he know? What he knows is that he can't handle it anymore! He can't focus on anything else but your sweet mouthwatering fragrance that makes him hard all the fucking time. He ought to do something about it. He needs to! Before he loses his mind completely.

He's oh so very close to losing it when he barges into your bedroom one evening while you're tapping away on your keyboard, as usual. The sudden bang of your door being forced open makes you jump on your seat, and your eyes instantly snap to him. They widen in shock at the sight of his disheveled state; his shirt is unbuttoned all the way down to his hips, his belt unfastened and the zip of his jeans is halfway down, making his enormous bulge stand out even more. You divert your gaze from it as soon as possible, locking eyes with his instead. But his gaze is no better. His pupils are dilated, and he stares at you as though you're a piece of raw meat. He has never looked so feral before.

“A-Alexis?”

He growls in response, his legs twitching as if he’s ready to pounce on you, but instead he moves his clawed hands to his head and runs them through his ruffled fur in a calming gesture, one you’ve seen him do before whenever he got a bit too fired up.

“I can’t take it anymore-” he rasps, taking a deep breath before fixing his piercing stare on you again. “Whatever it is, you need to take care of it. As soon as possible.”

His words don’t make any sense to you. What should you take care of? Did you forget to take out the trash today? What day is it? No, it’s a tuesday, it’s his turn-

“Did you hear me?”

His voice genuinely rattles you, you’ve never heard him sound so upset before. You must have really pissed him off somehow.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about-” 

He doesn’t seem to hear your answer though, for he starts to move his snout back and forth, from one side of your room to the other, sniffling as if something has suddenly caught his attention. A deep puzzled frown emerges on your face as you watch him step further inside your room, scoping his surroundings like a hound searching for a bone, until he comes to a halt in front of your wardrobe and slams it open without asking for permission.

“What are you doing?”

He ignores the hint of apprehension in your voice and starts to rummage through your clothes so carelessly that you fear he will tear them all to shreds. 

“Alexis! What the heck-!”

He growls in frustration, his clawed hands finding purchase on the cabinet door frame, causing the wood to creak under his grip. You can't see his face since he's still buried deep inside your wardrobe, but you can clearly hear his frantic sniff sniff sniff as he obstinately pursues the source of the smell that apparently irritates him so much he turns into a literal beast. 

You’re unsure whether to approach him in this state or just wait for him to put an end to whatever’s happening, but before you can come to a conclusion, Alexis crouches down with a satisfied huff and pulls back from the wardrobe with…

"My dirty laundry…?"

You give him an odd look as he drops the basket on the floor in front of you. Is this the source of the smell that bothered him? But there's no foul odor coming from it, at least not one that you can smell. There's not much inside after all, only a towel and...

Your eyes widen as Alexis reaches out with his hand and grabs a pair of dirty undies from the basket, instantly sending your face blushing with heat and your stomach flipping in embarrassment.

"Wha-! P-Put that back!" You stutter, clearly flustered, attempting to steal your underwear from his grasp, but he quickly moves them out of your reach, bringing them to his nose and taking a good sniff. Your face turns even more red at the sight.

"This." he growls, peering down at the fabric, his gaze fixated on the still damp patch sitting in the center. "This is the problem."

You're too mortified to argue with him about it, so you quickly blurt out, "I'm washing it right away, okay? Now give it back!" as you reach out again, only for him to jerk his arm away a second time.

"No. You do not understand. It's not just today," he says, clutching your underwear in his palm and piercing you with his golden eyes. “It’s everyday. Everywhere. I can only smell this.”

Oh.

Oh.

So… all this time… he could smell your…

Shock roots you to the spot. You’re left gaping at him, lips moving yet no sound comes out of your mouth. You had no idea. You didn’t even think about it. If you knew, maybe you could have refrained from writing so much, every damn day… You could have gone to a cafè instead of staying at home… Or you could have at least been a tad more careful-

"What's got you so worked up every fucking moment?" he asks, huffing in exasperation and looking around your room as if seeking the root of your problem, until his gaze settles on your desk. "You're always on your computer, tapping on that damned keyboard. I can hear you from my own room. You've got a long distance relationship or something?"

"I…I’m sorry. I d-didn’t mean to uhh… upset you?” You fumble over your words, struggling to find an appropriate response to this ridiculous and surreal circumstance, while simultaneously stepping back in front of the computer to hide it from his observant eye. "This won't happen again... Alright?"

His brow raises in interest, ears perking up and golden eyes peering into yours. You're sure he can tell how nervous you are. Gosh, you know now he must also be able to smell how shamefully aroused you are at the chance of being caught, your secret dirty hobby being exposed.

"Whatcha hiding, mh?" he taunts, taking a step closer, amusement and vexation mixing in a lethal combo. He cranes his neck to look behind you, but you're too close to the screen for him to catch a glimpse of it. "A secret lover? I'll grant you permission to let them come over. Maybe that will help you."

You're physically shaking with both dread and excitement, your wide eyes locked on his face, your hands reaching out to shove him back. Your stomach flips as you realize your palms have made contact with the fur on his chest and heat instantly pools in your abdomen when you spot the dilation of his pupils; they get so wide his golden irises almost disappear.

Before you have any chance to avoid it, he has you imprisoned against his body, his palm wrapped around the back of your neck, burying your face in his chest while he bends over to your computer. Your complaints are muffled by his fur, and your hands clutching at his sides are merely giving him a massage. There's nothing you can do against him. He is too big and strong... and warm, and soft, and he smells like fresh grass after rainfall. Oh, it’s even better than what you imagined…

You feel his muscles tense up around you just a moment before a loud bark of hearty laughter erupts from him, rumbling in his chest against your cheek and pulling you out of your reveries.

“Hunter’s Moon! That’s what you’ve been doing all along?” He pulls you back by tugging at your hair, his eyes full of mirth - and maybe a hint of mockery - as he stares down at you. “That’s what makes you so wet all the time that I can’t fucking breathe?”

“T-That’s not-!”

You're so ashamed that you'd rather combust into millions of particles and disappear right now. But there's also that wicked part of you that is pleased to hear you've had such a profound effect on him with your scent. The same side that relishes the way he's holding your hair, looking down at you, and laughing.

“You want a beast to fuck you?”

The way he spits out those words makes you shudder, and all you can do is stare up at him, astonished. His other hand moves to your face, grazing the outline of your cheek with the back of his clawed fingers, making your taut body shiver even more, your stomach doing somersaults. He can certainly feel it. He can see the desire wallowing in your wide shiny eyes. And it excites him. 

“Oh, sweetie. You could have just said so.”

And with that, he has your heart bursting downright out of your chest as he twists you around and bends you onto your desk, your fingers grasping the edge, your head almost colliding with your computer's screen. His hand pushes on the small of your back, causing your body to arch and your bottom to stick out. You feel his erection push against your jeans, directly against the crack of your ass, as he bends over you, his hot breath brushing the shell of your ear.

“Who would have thought you were so naughty…” he whispers slowly, voice laced with amusement. "Writing about werewolves ravishing you…" His free hand creeps over your hip and slides towards your belly. "Destroying your little human holes…" His fingers creasing and raising the thin fabric of your tee as they dig into the soft flesh of your abdomen, steadily crawling lower. He laughs again, blowing warm air into your skin when he notices you whimpering quietly and trembling under his touch. 

“Isn’t that what you write about, mh? Why don't you read it for me?"

Your eyes widen, and you meet his amused look with a shiver that runs down your spine and lands between your thighs. He gives you a wolfish grin before nudging your head with his snout and turning it towards the screen. "C'mon. Read it."

You can't think clearly, let alone focus on the text on the white screen. Your heart is racing and the heat in your lower abdomen is becoming unbearable. If only he moved his fingers lower to offer you just a little relief...

“Start from the line that says how the beast rips your pants apart… That sounds like fun.”

You’re panting so hard already and he’s barely touched you. You have to swallow a couple of times to clear your throat and moisten your dry mouth before you’re able to speak again. But even then your voice comes out shaky and subdued as you start reading your own wicked fantasies out loud.

“...he groped the round sphere of her ass, massaging her flesh as if to prepare her for what was about to come-”

You yelp as you feel both his palms land on your ass, groping you over the fabric of your pants.

“Keep going. Don’t leave me hanging…” he croons teasingly in your ear, giving your cheeks a squeeze as an incentive.

You take a shuddering breath and then exhale, hoping to calm your frenzied heartbeat - as if that’s possible in a situation like this - and resume reading from where you left off.

“...a loud gasp of shock escaped her lips when his hands pulled at her pants and ripped the fabric apart as if it was made of paper-”

And with that, your pants are gone too, leaving only a few bits of fabric hanging around your thighs. You don’t even care about your clothes right now, you just want him to take you. You need him. You want him so badly. 

His claws run along your panties, purposefully missing the wet spot sitting right at the center. Your legs weakly buckle in protest.

“What about these? What happens to her soaked panties?”

“Ripped apart as well.” you answer forthwith, pushing your ass back to seek more friction and thus sending him laughing at your eagerness.

His fingers coil around the fabric's edges, yanking at it as if ready to tore it, only to let go and snap the elastic band against your skin.

"Nah. I think I'll keep them on for now," he muses, his voice still cracking with amusement as if he's thoroughly enjoying torturing you and driving you insane.

Your indignant cry rapidly turns into a shocked gasp as you feel something long and hard shove against your panties-clad folds. When you look down, your jaw falls at the sight of his huge throbbing cock stroking against your cunt back and forth, its dark pink skin already glistening with your juices dropping through your drenched underwear.

"So wet…" he croons, nestling his face in the crook of your neck. His moist nose brushes against your boiling hot skin, giving you chills. "So wet for me."

He keeps moving against you, maddeningly slowly, making you quiver with both pleasure and desperation. Breathy whimpers and moans fall from your parted lips, mirroring the rhythm of his thrusts.

"A-Alexis… please…"

You’re begging him to fuck you. He knows that. It's so obvious. It pleases him greatly, yet he won't let your precious little cries deter him from his own plans. His movements almost come to a halt as his warm, wet tongue slides out of his mouth and licks the side of your neck.

“You’ve driven me mad for months.” he growls in your ear, frustration once more edging his tone. His hands eagerly reach for your thighs and push them together to squeeze his cock between your soft flesh. You moan in response, surprised and satisfied by the additional friction, although still frustrated by the emptiness you feel inside you, with your walls clenching desperately around nothing. 

“Now it’s my turn.”

A jolt of pleasure strikes your core as his arms wrap around your middle and he starts to buck his hips against your ass at a punishing pace, rocking your whole body with such force that you’d be slamming against the desk if he wasn’t holding onto you like a vice.

You whine and mewl ever louder, the knot in your lower belly tightening at an alarming rate. Your hands grasp onto his strong arms, fingers tangling in his fur, while your head bobs feverishly upon his shoulder.

“A-Alexis… I-I'm- I’m!”

His moist nose taps on your neck, tongue lapping at your skin, as his cock keeps on bullying your poor swollen folds. The fabric of your underwear is so wet at this point that it's almost as if it's not even there; you can feel him entirely, rubbing your small bundle of nerves with every thrust.

"Already?" His laughter vibrates through your writhing body, heightening the friction between your thighs.

You try to hold back, a little offended by his derision, wanting to last a bit longer, but with a harsh yank of his hand, he pulls your panties to the side and finally seals your fate. Tendrils of pleasure ignite from your core, sending you spasming sharply in his grasp,your cunt gushing cum on his length.

He growls in your ear, tightening his hold and lifting you off the ground while chasing his own high. Feeling you contort in ecstasy and soak his cock has excited him viscerally, and it's only a matter of minutes until he follows you, shooting his sperm into your panties and mixing his juices with your own. You're both left panting, breathless, and light-headed, your bodies buzzing with the last shreds of bliss.

Alexis adjusts your underwear, cupping your cunt to ensure you feel his cum smear across your tender flesh. You whimper lazily in response, turning your head to glance up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. He meets your gaze with his own glazed look and smiles, that wolfish smile that inspired oh so many stories.

You need more. You want him. You want to feel him inside you. This was not enough. Not enough to satisfy months and months worthy of fantasies and soaking panties.

As if sensing the need within you, Alexis raises his hand to your hair and caresses it with newfound affection.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll give you plenty to write about..." he teases and grins at the way your eyes seem to lighten up at his words, only to see your face fall a second later as he adds: "In due time."

He gives you a playful smack on the ass and then walks out of your room, snickering.

"Whatcha having for dinner?

🪷. You can leave me a tip on ko-fi if you want to support me

[gremlingottoosilly]

[If you need to be mean] chapter 2

Chapter 1

Konig decided to meet his new favorite civilian at the cafe you work at. Unfortunately for both of you, you're both socially awkward. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective

— Did something good happen, colonel? You are practically shining. 

Horangi always had this special ability of telling nonsense with the most serious face and deep voice. He also was the only one in his unit to ever be brave enough to joke with his superior – even though all the other KorTac members usually don’t risk their asses to be put on fire list because of some silly joke. He is the closest König has to a friend – and it’s kinda sad, actually, that a broken gambling addict is the only person who can read his emotions so well, even with his hood and permanently sour expression. 

But something good did happen – you happen, of course. 

He spend a few days of self-reflecting, drinking and punching training manekens in the gym, trying so fucking hard to put your adorable civillian face out of his mind. You were out of sight alright, but the way your features would get distorted into something even more adorable every time he closed his eyes, was concerning. He dealt with those little obsessions before – nothing that a few good rounds of jerking off until he would feel nothing but emptiness and hatred to himself couldn’t handle. He surely can’t fall that deep down, he only saw you for like an hour and it was literally three days ago! 

— I read your reports about the last terrorist encounter. Good job, Horangi. 

— And I heard about that civilian girl you pulled, sir. Thought we are bringing those to the police, not their houses. 

— I had to make sure she wasn't a spy. 

— And she wasn’t? 

König thinks – would be far easier if he would have an official, legal reason to keep you locked up on the base without the right to come out. Would be far easier for him to just think about you as an enemy, so he would have normal reasons for thinking about you constantly, and not feeling guilty. It’s normal to think so much about your enemies – this is what keeps you alive on the field, if you can determine their shortcomings early and make sure that you can fight them. He would love having you as an enemy – it would at least give him some info before starting obsession over little ol’ you. 

— No. 

— That would give us at least some lead to the terrorist cell. Feels like all locals are protecting them from it. 

— I understand your frustration. But at least they are not cutting our pay. 

— We might as well rebel if they’d try to. 

— We are not stepping on terrorist’s route. 

— I was joking, sir. Only thing that’s left here except for card games. 

Horangi hates stationing in this country as much as König is – and, given that he is a sergeant and doesn’t have as much rank expectations, can talk about this openly. This operation is perfect except for the lack of intel, lack of action and lack of basically anything to do – the local forces are handling minor threats, while mercs here are mostly to show off how the government has money to hire them. KorTac would pay for actually having to fight some bad guys around here – but the bigger ones are hiding and lower ones are already getting tracked down by the local military. 

The only interesting thing to do, seemingly, is to obsess over local girls – and König thought he is better than this. 

But he isn’t losing sleep over thinking about how scared and fragile you looked that night. Especially not even going to think about how adorable your little pout was, and the way your hands were trembling. He definitely doesn't want to know every tiny detail about your life, what you like and what you hate, what is your favorite position in bed and the color of underwear you are currently wearing – or even if you are wearing one. And he isn’t some sort of creep that would spend an obnoxiously long amount of time registering on social media – god, he is too old for this shit, it literally feels even more humiliating than his whole school experience – just so he can find your accounts and get instant masturbation material. 

You really shouldn’t post so much half-naked photos – yes, this is a reel from your last summer vacation and yes, this swimsuit looks beautiful on you, but have you ever considered that some creep(not someone like him, he is palming himself very respectfully) would use those photos as a way to get themself off? Terrible, scary, he can’t wait for you to post some new photos – maybe in something that he would buy you, way skimpier and more expensive, so he could protect you from those people. 

He looks at your posts about work – and he hates this stupid blue bird app because it never works for him, always filled with some assholes who are trying to argue with literally everyone, and the way he can’t even see your posts properly because of the weird ads. No, he doesn’t need a “Thing that would make your dick longer” he literally has a problem with making it smaller. No, he doesn’t need some dumb T-shirt even though he kinda reflects with the funny pun about pokemons and would love to wear something containing his major interest even though it would look ridiculous on a 6 '10 killing machine. 

But König reads all of your short posts about the way you hate working in customer service, and his hand is almost slipping to the ad about wedding rings. You hate your job, he hates his – practically soulmates, even though he doesn’t really hate the killing part of his employment, he just doesn’t want to be in charge of people and making them steal the fun of destroying. He would, however, agree to get as many ranks as possible if that would mean providing for you. If that would allow him to be by your side and listen to your sweet voice, he would agree for the next promotion even if higher ups would want him to make some PR wawes and become a fucking fashion model. 

But he is completely sane about you. Totally normal. Absolutely nothing is wrong with him when he can’t even think about visiting you in real life, but he leaves a like on every of your posts in every social media he has – you have terrible online safety habits by the way, he can already see what the inside of your apartment looks like, your place of work from three different angles, and how the front door of your apartment is held together by a very easy to destroy lock. He could snatch it in one deliberate kick, not even speaking about just shooting it. Not like he would need to, he wants you to be with him willingly. Or, at least, don’t fight him too much in case he would actually lose his patience and do something drastic. 

It has already been three days and he feels like he is going crazy. He had those things before, overthinking about tiniest details in someone he never truly knew, but even then he’d understand that he can’t be with them – it could be his school crushes that were, ironically, crushed because of his anxiety. It might be some casual flings with his fellow soldiers that would either get killed in the field or never happen because it would be fraternization. Some random people he saw at the airport and already imagined life with multiple kids and a dog. He always knew he had a problem – but it was never like this before. Never dangerous. 

The problem is – he knows that he can have you. 

Maybe not in a traditional way, he doubts that you would just marry him on the spot, but he can court you at least. He can shower you with gifts or ridiculous tips at your job, he can just snatch you away and leave you as his perfect little bedmate. He can make his men kidnap you, and while it is inhumane and you don’t deserve this, he would calm you down – and then have his happily ever after. 

He knows that he can have you – and it drives him crazy. He could stop himself previously, when he didn’t have anything for himself to be considered desirable – but now, with his rank and all the new opportunities and money it brings, he can’t stop but fantasize. 

You under him, panting and blushing, lips puffy from kisses, skin glazed from sweat and marked with his teeth.

You under him, so wonderfully tight, not letting him go even for an inch – and you are perfectly taking him, no matter how gigantic he is. 

You under him, smiling, cuddling after a long night – every night after a mission, where he could spend his free time deep in your body, listening to your melodic moans and little whines. 

You under…

— Can I…can I take your order, sir? 

He is a disgusting human being because lives of thousand people are on a stake, he would just doom them all if he wouldn’t find those terrorists soon – and he wastes time on sitting in this tiny ass cafe, trying to place himself on the small seat while being all too nervous to just talk to you. Like a person. Of course he had to go to your shift – he already determined which days you were working because it increased the number of angry “I hate my job and want to kill my manager” posts on that dumb social media, and he knows which hours you work at – of course it’s almost night time, the closing shift, because he simply can’t have himself not worry about you. 

He is a creep, weirdo and all that words in a song that he’s been blasting in his tiny headphones all of these days because he can smell the sweetness of your perfume and the way you are munching on the pen you are using to write his order. Oh, yes, order. He is supposed to order something, he can’t just give you money for how adorable you look in that white apron – even though you are absolutely stunning and should get money. 

God, he would murder everyone in this building just for them to never look at your legs again. 

God, he would bury himself between them if only you’d allow him to.

— Sir, is everything okay? 

He served in the military for far longer that you lived, probably. Most of his life, he got used to being referred to as something honorable, or referring to other people like that – and he never thought that just being referred to as “sir” would make his dick twitch in his pants. He crosses his legs, hoping not to get too imposing – he already towers over the tiny table like a giant he is, barely even fitting in it. He thinks he has a healthy amount of self-control – then he looks at you again, and thanks all the gods he knows for the mask he is wearing – at least under the black surgeon piece and dark glasses you won’t really see his blush. Or that little twitching in his eyes that is indicating danger. 

— Sorry, I…can I, um, have a coffee? Bitte…please, I mean. 

He hates how nervous he is – like high school again, asking his crush out just to be ridiculed. But you look perfect like this – controlled environment, you can’t just laugh at him and say that he is a weird nerd from another class, you have a manager who is controlling of such behavior. He would never tell on you, of course, he wants you to be happy, even if this job makes you the most miserable – even though he kinda thinks of you as a weak for this, his job literally involves killing people and he doesn't argue that much! 

But you giggle – sweet, innocent sound, it drives him crazy even more than he previously was. It doesn’t feel like those girls at school – yes, he still can’t let that go, even though his therapist says he has to – and he loses all control at how beautiful you sound. He wants to take you away right now, pay you for your workplace however you get them, and just use you as he wants – no matter how socially unacceptable. He protects this country, he has the right for a little prize, right? No, this would be terrible, he shouldn’t just harass sweet little civilians like you, he should…

— What type of coffee, sir? Do you want some dessert? 

This is a typical question, he was at cafes and coffee shops a thousand times but, for some reason, it feels almost like you are teasing him. You bite the end of your pen with those adorable teeth of yours – he wants to feel it on his fingers, he wants you to leave bite marks all over his body as a sign of marking him as yours. He smiles under his mask, hoping that you would somehow feel it – how happy you make him feel, how hard it’s for him not to lose control. 

— No. Just coffee. 

— Sugar? 

He would like some sugar, of course – but the one he wants is probably not for sale, even though that adorable white apron of yours makes you look like a candy. He would love to unwrap you from those silly clothes and devour what belongs to him for the right of protector, but he knows how scared you might be. He is not a good person, he killed more people that he could count – countless fathers, sons, mothers, he shouldn’t even think about having a right for a family of his own after all of this. He is not a good person and his moral code changes with every kill he gets – but for hell sake, he wants to be nice with you. You deserve it, he knows. More than he is, for sure. 

König doesn’t really like sugary stuff, it was always too childish, made him too energetic, disrupted his very peculiar way of eating things. Sweets makes him only more hungry, makes him crave more, and he wants to be as serious as possible – so he usually drinks and eats stuff that is no tastier than a pile of dry sand. But he responds before he can think, too focused on that shiny lipgloss you have on your lips. He would lick and bite it all – soon, he hopes. 

— Ja. Thank you. 

— Good choice, sir.

Your lips are curling into a small, shy smile and he likes sugar now. He isn’t sure if you are telling everyone that their order is a good choice, maybe you just want to get more tips, but he hopes that maybe, he is special. Maybe there is something nice happening to him after all. A small reward for not being a total monster on the last mission he had, even though he could. He can’t do anything but to stare at you, his only saving grace is the dark lenses of his glasses – he can’t wear his hood in civil situations, unfortunately, people would stare, stare, stare and that would make him want to pull their eyes out. 

But you smile and he smiles also, even if you can’t see it. He is looking at your legs and, fuck, he is a disgusting old creature that preys upon younger women because he never had a positive experience before. He is a total creep and a monster that should be put down already – but he stares at your legs under that waitress dress, and he would pay your manager a few thousand Euros to cut the length of your skirt in half. 

Then he sees all the others looking at you the same way – old people, young people, there aren’t a lot of guests at this time in the evening, most people are afraid of going into public places while the war on terrorism is going on. There aren’t a lot of people while it’s almost closing time, but he doesn't even want to think about all the other men looking at you like this. Devouring you with their eyes, probably leaving sleazy comments as you go through the small cafe, just as overworked as your other coworkers. He wants to take you from here. 

You don’t deserve people looking at you like you aren’t even a person – only he can look at you respectfully, stripping you with his eyes. He can be soft for you, can be perfect – if you would just let him. 

König doesn’t want to be a creep around you, but he was looking at your legs for five minutes already, picturing the way your body would look under all of these clothes, and his cock gets painfully hard. He thanks himself for wearing normal, baggy pants, not something tighter – at least his embarrassment is completely covered by his clothes. 

— Here is your coffee. Anything else? 

You look nervous, of course – but he seems way softer than he was a couple days ago, at night. The absence of his creepy mask is obviously helping, and because he is sitting, you don’t have to tilt your head too high, causing your neck to stretch uncomfortably. He looks awkwards, like a big dog that still tries to fit into his old bed, and it causes you to smile a little bit more. You made sure to place a couple of sugar cubes on the plate, so he could decide for himself, if he wants to use them all – but the mere thought of that giant of a man, a colonel, hardened soldier liking something silly and sweet is making you giggle. 

He looks way softer than he was that night, and you can almost forget about how scared you were – how you were thinking that this would be the end for you, that one, overthinking part of your mind already making up the scenarios of getting martial lawed because of the broken curfew. You can even see his hair – and fight the urge to touch it a little. He is still who-knows-how-old and still a military presence in your peaceful country. 

You still want to ruffle his hair. 

He still wants to take your clothes off and make you his. 

— Nein, thank you. 

He stares at the cup for a good few seconds – if he wants to drink, he needs to actually take it off. He has many scars on his face, and his mouth sometimes feels like it has more dead skin than alive one – he doesn’t want to attract attention. Some people are already staring at his badge and how awkward a giant man like him looking in that cozy, tiny place – but he also wants you to see how much pain he can withstand without getting killed. How he can protect you from anything because there literally isn’t anything he won’t do for you. You would appreciate a man with scars, it’s a sign of bravery, right? 

Then he thinks about all the times he would take off his mask and how people around him would look at him – with pity, with fear, with disgust sometimes even though he is certain that his face isn’t as deformed as some other parts of his body. He even almost managed to grow a beard once! Then he had to scrub it all off because hair was growing in very uneven patches and he looked like something crawled on his chin and died. 

König fought in countless battles, spent his youth training to be the best killer possible, took part in many major conflicts and killed hundreds of people while feeling nothing but recoil. He isn’t afraid of anything – except for talking to people sometimes, maybe, and even now he is trying to work on it with his therapist, instead of just killing anyone who looks at him funny. He isn’t afraid of the dark, of death, of uncertainty in his life. But he is afraid of you looking at him unmasked and thinking that you, in fact, find him disgusting. 

You almost want to take your time to look at what he will do – is he going to take off his mask? Is he going to drink right through the fabric? You have too much work to just stay at his table and stare, even if you want to – but you are trying to give him occasional glances as he just…sits at his table. Not even moving, just staring at the cup and sometimes moving his head to look at you – or just ornaments at the wall behind you. Yes, probably the ornament. 

König sits at the table and, well, he doesn’t even want to drink his coffee because just looking at the way your ass sways under that terribly short skirt is enough to set him on fire. He wants to take you home with him – even though his home is all the way up in Austria. He would take you, you probably wouldn’t even be mad at you – you could be a perfect little family. He already waited too long to start one, never finding anyone who would win his heart for a long run but he was sure that this three-days-obsession would last long. He isn’t sure, however, if he likes it or not. 

He ended up not drinking at all – he knows that he can’t just waste multiple hours, he already got his lieutenants covering the spot with paper work while their commander is away at searching for the love of his life. He wants to be with you longer, probably walk you home again and make sure to protect you from any creeps that would want to attack. He can’t have that, it’s obvious – he is a colonel, unfortunately, he is still on the hunt for those terrorists, he can barely give himself an hour of free time these days. 

He already indulged in his fantasies too much when he folds a 100 Euros banknote and puts it into the bill – not sure about how much money it is here, not wanting to give you any trouble with exchanging currency, he just hopes that would be enough for you to at least not worry about food for a few days. Or buy yourself something nice – what girls like these days? Guns, books, some fancy lip gloss, a hat for their adorable little turtles? He would buy you a pet turtle, he always wanted one as a kid – right before his father said that all lizards are products of sinful corporations and a lazy pet like a turtle, unlike a giant dog breed, is completely useless and unmanly. 

He doesn’t want to be here when you’ll get the bill – he is too afraid that he didn’t gave you enough, that you'd be disappointed. He would love to give you more, of course, but he doesn’t want to just shove you the money like you are some sort of cheap whore – he wants to give you gifts, something meaningful, to steal you from poverty altogether. König is an expert in infiltration and escaping arts, he can exit the location without anyone noticing a thing, even with his size – and then you look at him, directly into his eyes, covered by sunglasses – and your face is twisted in shock as you realize what exactly he left you. 

— Wait, sir! Please, I…god, I will get you the change right now, I’m so sorry, it’s closing shift, I…I’m sorry, I completely forgot…

You are almost begging him to stop and let you give him his money, a honorable deed really – but all he can think of is how nice you would look on your knees, begging him to fuck you already. How perfect you would look all whiny and spoiled, asking him for something expensive, whatever your cute head would want. You would look so complete on his lap, tugging on his shirt and asking your daddy for a new toy. You would…

— It was a tip. Take it. 

He wants to be able to tell you how perfect you look, how he wants to just throw you over his shoulder in a totally non-creepy way and make you his little wifey. How he would take multiple months of leave to just be with you, marry you, breed you. He wants to have a way with words, but they are useless to him – he can’t even say he likes you, it’s embarrassing, he is almost forty, he got his rank as youngest colonel in history of KorTac, he can literally have almost everything he wants – except for basic social skills. 

He feels like a creep, an old man trying to steal that perfect girl from the shiny world, and he hates himself for it – but then you blush and he can almost convince himself that yeah, you like that creep too. 

— I…shit, I mean, sorry…thank you, sir. 

— Don’t wander at night again. 

He feels like a scolding father and you giggle again, too innocent and naive to understand his thoughts. 

— I won’t. Promise. 

He then slowly leans closer, puts a hand on your shoulder again – goosebumps are running on your skin. His head is near yours now, he is whispering in your ear – and you are almost sure that you shouldn’t have come closer to him like this, that it’s unprofessional from your side, that everyone is staring at you. They are – and you try to ignore it, but…

— Wear shorts under your skirt next time. Never know who might look at your legs like that. 

You would slap him here and there. You would scream and run away right now, but for some stupid, dumb, completely terrifying reason, you…almost like how protective he sounds. And the money he gave you is also helping – even if just a little bit. 

König looks at the way you blush even more, and he knows already that he won’t ever let you go. 

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[syluscore]

Workplace Romance

~ID! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

Word count: 7213

Content warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, non-con, dub-con, serial killers, murder, leon's a major asshole and mean to reader, lots of arguing, confrontation, drugging, kidnapping, use of shock collar, degrading, pet names, serious bodily harm, forced self-harm, crawling, descriptions of blood/pain/body mutation, forced blowjob, cum swallowing, piss, reader pisses self, removal of an appendage/body part, capital punishment, death row, lethal injection, masturbation, very little comfort, no happy ending

the content warnings are a mess, but i think i included everything.

!!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!!

Agent Leon Kennedy. A name you weren’t familiar with until a few weeks ago. Now, he’s the leading cause of all your headaches.

He’s a renowned FBI agent. Not only is he an excellent detective, but an expert in serial killer psychology.

He’s successfully led in the investigations and captures of eight serial killers and helped in the convictions of upwards of a hundred murderers.

He’s spent years studying the minds of serial killers. He can find the smallest bit of information and utilize it to get inside a killer's head. He’s the FBI’s serial killer specialist and if there’s ever a suspected serial killing, the case files land right on his desk.

And that’s what’s brought the two of you together.

You had just made detective at the Raccoon City Police Department, but the training was subpar. Any case that goes through this department is almost guaranteed to go unsolved. It’s not the station's fault, but the lack of funding and resources that has led to its downfall.

You’re up to your neck in cold case files. And crime that needs any sort of investigation is immediately your obligation. You’re a one person department and absolutely set up to fail.

When the FBI finally shows interest in the series of murders taking place throughout the city, you’re honestly relieved. Anything to ease your heavy workload. But it all changes when you meet him.

Agent Leon fucking Kennedy.

He’s a cocky bastard who undermines your department, which is solely you, constantly. He is unimpressed with the investigative work done on the case and won’t hesitate to insult your abilities as a detective.

And the man is basically untouchable.

He’s the FBI’s golden boy who can do no wrong. Everyone in the station worships the ground he walks on because he’s here to save the town, like a superhero. He’s the best of the best and everyone is expected to tolerate him. No exceptions.

It doesn’t help that he’s absolutely gorgeous. Always looking so well put together, a calculated appearance that never falters. Men and women alike gawk at the man. Whether they want to be with him or be him, you’d be stupid to not acknowledge it. 

A brown fringe cascading around his face. Pretty blue eyes matched with a prominent nose and jaw line, a dimple centered in his chin. Even the stubble lining his jaw is flawless. His eyebrows are knitted together in a permanent scowl. He looks like he despises the world and it makes him that much more enticing. 

And it pisses you off entirely. If he was just some mediocre, average looking man, it’d make hating him so much easier. But of course the jackass is incredible. It makes you wanna pour acid in your eyes just to give you your peace of mind back. Seeing is believing, right?

Without a single break in the case and no solid leads, you’re happy to take a step back from the case. It doesn’t mean you don’t care, but the crime rate in town has been steadily rising and you know you can help better elsewhere.

You walk into the station on what you thought was a typical Tuesday morning. But you’ve barely made it through the front door when you’re met with chaos.

People are running around, coming in and out of the station. The noise level is atrocious and has you wishing you’d caught the fucking plague because it would be less exhausting than this.

You barely make it five paces into the station when one of the coworkers you actually bother with appears at your side.

“It never stops, does it?” Jill says breathlessly.

You shake your head before replying, “What’s going on now?”

“Wait, you don’t know? Shouldn’t you be the first to know, actually?” She stops dead in her tracks, which in result causes you also to abruptly stop.

“Considering I don’t know what you’re talking about, I have no idea.” You cross your arms over your chest and turn to face her.

She sighs and places her hands on her hips. “They found another body early this morning. Everything matches up with the previous ones, so it’s basically confirmed to be one of his.”

“Another body? This will be his tenth fucking kill.”

“Thank God we got the FBI on it then?” Jill quirks an eyebrow at you, causing you to roll your eyes in response.

Jill is one of the few people seemingly in the world to not care for Leon’s bullshit. She can’t stand the man and isn’t afraid to voice it. She’s your number one defender and isn’t shy about arguing with the dreaded FBI agent.

“Maybe he’ll finally be good for something other than making my life a living Hell.”

Jill reaches out and squeezes your shoulder as she shakes her head. “But at what cost? Let’s hope the sweet, tender boy can magically solve the case and fuck back off to wherever he flew in from.”

Another coworker comes up and pulls Jill away from you. As she marches away behind the man, she turns and waves at you. You hate that you instantly wave back, but it’s Jill. You’ll look like a dork over and over for her sake.

You lower your hand and sigh, but before you can even begin walking again, a presence takes shape beside you.

“What are you doing?” An unmistakable snarky voice calls out to you. Your muscles instantly tense up in his presence, like your body is physically rejecting him and his aura.

You scoff as you begin walking again. “None of your business, Leon.”

You’re annoyed when Leon meets your big strides, keeping up with you pace for pace. You both remain silent as you quickly arrive at your office door.

You go to close the door behind you, but Leon pushes past, welcoming himself into your office. You’re frozen in place for a second in your confusion, but you quickly snap out of it and sink into your desk chair.

“What’s up?” You fold your arms over your chest and lean back in your chair. Being around Leon is exhausting and you can already feel this conversation draining you.

Leon doesn’t take a seat, instead choosing to stand tall above your desk, looking down at you.

“None of your business.” Leon mocks you in a shrill voice. 

“What’s up?” His eyes meet yours, locking in an intense stare.

“You need to address me properly. Agent Kennedy, not Leon.”

You furrow your eyebrows at the sudden authority in his voice. When he doesn’t speak up again, it prompts you to instead.

“Okay. But I would appreciate it if you addressed me properly too, Agent Kennedy.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

You quirk your head to the side, shocked by the pure audacity of this man. The audacity to demand respect when he can’t even give it. It’s infuriating.

“Well, Leon, I don’t appreciate being disrespected in my own-“

“Earn it.”

You shake your head in exasperation at his interruption. Yes. Infuriating is the best word to describe this man.

“What?” You release a heavy sigh, already exhausted from the few words exchanged.

“Respect is earned. Earn respect and you will receive it.”

“You haven’t earned-“

“I’m the FBI’s best asset when it comes to convicting serial killers, not to mention all of the side work I’ve done in homicide prevention and precaution. I’ve earned goddamn respect and I expect it, no exceptions.”

He slams his hands down on your desk, causing you to jump, your chair screeching across the floor as you put more space between you two.

Your voice is shaking as you throw your hands up in the air, “Fuck! Okay! Sorry, Agent Kennedy.”

He gives you a final death glare before backing up and causally stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks. It remains silent as you two stare across the room at each other.

“Anyways, I needed to talk to you.” He finally sits in the chair and your shoulders visibly relax. You hate yourself for being so visibly nervous in his presence currently, but it was out of your control.

“What about?”

He clears his throat. “I don’t like it anymore than you do, but my bosses have instructed me to take you under my wing. Teach you what I know. And it’s my obligation to follow those orders and I think it’s in your best interest to do so as well. It would be very beneficial to you.”

Your eyes fall closed as you barely manage to hold back a groan. Your head falls back, scalp connecting with the back of your chair.

“You just made detective, correct?”

You sigh and look back up at him, “Yeah. Not even a month ago.”

“Then let me help you. There’s no one here to train you on how to be a good detective, a good investigator. I know a thing or two. You just have to let me help you. Also, it’ll be better on my conscience if I leave here confident in this station's sole detective.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m being serious. I have a lot to teach and you have a lot to learn. You’d be stupid to not take full advantage of this opportunity.”

You remain silent, lost in your own thoughts. You were confident with your abilities as a detective. Confident with your capability to solve cases, but he has the experience that you don’t. But he’s also Leon Kennedy and that alone is almost enough to make you say fuck no.

“How many people have died at the hands of this killer? That we know of so far.”

“9 I believe.”

“10 after the discovery this morning. And there could be more we don’t know about. You don’t wanna solve this case? Wanna bring this sick fuck to justice?”

“Well, of course-“

“Then work with me. How many more innocent people need to die?”

You release a heavy sigh. “Alright, alright. We have a deal or whatever.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Weeks have passed and Leon’s arrogance has only gotten worse.

The belittling, the undermining, just everything he does has you raging. You’ve given up on helping with the investigation because anything you do is scrutinized. You found a solid piece of evidence that could have easily been looked into, but he rejected it and told you to disregard it.

No matter how hard he tries to make you feel like it, you’re not an idiot. You’re a great detective and nothing about this situation is right. His behavior, his attitude, his methods of operation are all suspicious as hell, so how could you not look into him?

You’re not exactly sure what you were looking for. Maybe a sign that he was taking credit for work he didn’t actually do? Or maybe a sign of him planting evidence?

Why couldn’t you have just minded your goddamn business?

You’re the only two left in the station, working late on the case. To say things are tense is a fucking understatement if you’ve ever heard one. 

“Can I ask you a question, (Reader)?” 

Your head shoots up from your computer screen. The way he says your name has chills running down your spine, has you struggling to swallow. 

“Um, yeah. What’s your question?” 

His elbows are on the table, his chin resting on the backs of his clasped hands. “Did you find what you were looking for?” His tone is accusatory and it confuses you.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean?” 

“Don’t play stupid.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why were you looking into me?” He brings his hands down to the table and leans in closer to your side of the table. “Did you find what you were looking for?” 

Your heart is in your throat as you struggle to find the words to explain yourself. “What kind of detective would I be if I didn’t?”

He snickers. “Answering a question with a question. Classic. But I’m not interested in beating around the fucking bush, so how about you just tell me what you were looking for.” 

You take a deep breath before straightening your spine and feigning a confidence you definitely don’t feel. “Okay. You’re suspicious as fuck. And I don’t trust you. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“And what did you find?” He snaps at you. You don’t understand why he’s taking such offense to a detective doing detective work? He didn’t anticipate this? 

“Nothing. I didn’t find anything.”

“And do you still have your suspicions about me?”

“Yes.” You answer his questioning immediately. You’re not sure what compels you to do so, but your mouth moves faster than your mind. “I still don’t understand why you act the way you do.”

He looks away from you, pulling a file out of his briefcase and flipping through the papers inside of it. “What were you hoping to find?”

“I-” you’re once again stumbling over your words. No one has ever made you so nervous, no one has ever triggered your flight or fight as much as he does. Alarms are constantly going off in your head about him and you hate it. “I just wanted some answers.”

“Then fucking ask.” He slams the folder shut and tosses it down the table. “Ask me your questions. Don’t be a baby about it, going behind my back to find them. You’re a big girl. If you want answers, come and get them.”

“Why are you such a dick?”

“Because I can be. Next question.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Obviously.”

“We’re getting nowhere. Nevermind.”

“Wait!” You yell at him, reaching out and grabbing his wrist as he goes to stand up. “I’m sorry. You just piss me off.”

He pulls his wrist from your grasp with a disgusted look, but he doesn’t get up from his chair. He stares at you silently, which means he wants you to speak up. He’s so fucking entitled, you have to refrain from going off on him for the billionith time. 

“Why do you brush me off constantly? I bring you solid, concrete leads and you treat them like they’re nothing. You’re leaving so many loose ends. We’re not any closer to solving this case. Why?”

He hums at you like your question is invalid. You don’t know what you expected. Of course he was just going to be a prick like he always is. 

“That’s your perspective on it. A false perspective, but one nonetheless.”

“What does that mean?” The offense is obvious in your voice. More belittling, more brushing off your valid concerns. Of course. Of fucking course.

“Because I’ve followed every last lead and every little piece of evidence. It’s not my fault you can’t keep up.”

“Bullshit!” You’re both surprised at your outburst. You can’t hold it back anymore. You can’t stand the lying and fucking diversions anymore. “I’ve been watching you, Leon. I haven’t seen you investigate shit. You pick and choose where you pay attention. This is the FBI’s very best? It’s fucking pathetic.”

He keeps his expression blank and neutral. “Anything else?”

“Yes, actually. I’m trying to figure out what the fuck it is you do that’s so fucking incredible that you’ve solved so many cases. Are you taking credit for other people’s work? Are you planting evidence? That’s the only thing that makes sense. You’re an opportunist. It’s like you’re just silently waiting to find the perfect person to blame. Is that it? You frame people to make yourself look better? What is it?”

Your voice is desperate and it’s genuinely embarrassing. But you are desperate. And you don’t wanna sit by anymore, not with the terrible suspicions constantly plaguing your exhausted mind. 

“You think I’m covering up for serial killers? You realize how crazy that sounds, right?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. It’s not that fucking farfetched.”

“Why would I do that?”

You let out a noise of frustration, “I don’t know! To make yourself look better? Everyone worships you for the work you’ve done. Maybe it’s for the praise and glory, to stroke your ego.”

He smirks at you and it only enrages you more. 

“You told me to ask you questions!” you yell at him, “Now give me fucking answers!”

“I don’t give a shit what people think. You think I would cover up for serial killers to make myself look better? That’s stupid.”

“Then maybe you have another reason!”

“Like?”

“I don’t fucking know! For all I know, you’re the serial killer and you just frame people to cover your own ass. Your job would be the perfect guise wouldn’t it?” It’s just word vomit pouring from your mouth at this point, but something about what you’ve said has Leon jumping to his feet.

Before you even have time to react, he’s leapt across the table. His hand wraps around your neck, pushing you back in your chair until you go crashing to the floor. You cry out in pain as your skull connects with the ground.

Your vision is fuzzy from the impact, but you slowly blink your eyes until they focus back in on Leon’s body hovering over yours. With the grip he has on your throat, you can’t speak. All you can do is look up at him and the unhinged expression on his face.

Leon shifts and there’s a sudden sharp, burning pain in your neck. Your arms shoot up and your fingers connect with the syringe in your neck. Your eyes widen in fear.

“Good detective work, baby. You’ve figured it out. Congratulations! You found your guy!” His smile is huge and combined with his crazy eyes, has you shaking beneath him.

The muscles in your body quickly start to tingle as you lose control of them, slowly going limp beneath him.

“Goodnight.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you pass out.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

You’re awake, your eyes are open but your brain still isn’t able to process anything. You stare blankly as you try to actually wake up. The room is a blur and you can hear a voice calling out to you, but you can’t make out what it’s saying.

Sudden white hot pain has your consciousness finally catching up with you. You’re gasping for air as you finally take in your surroundings. 

The room is dirty, trash littering the floor around you. The only object in the room is a chair on the other side of the room.

“Good morning. Thought that’d wake you up.”

You push yourself up into a sitting position as Leon appears in front of you. He gently pats your head causing you to cower away from him, but he just laughs at you and walks over to the chair. Every step he takes makes a loud crunching sound as his shoes connect with the debris covering the floor. The only cleared spot is the space surrounding you, just enough for your body to lay in.

You try to speak, but all you can manage to do is cough. Leon sits leisurely in his chair as you struggle through your coughing fit.

The second it passes, while you’re still gasping for air, you call out to him, “Wha-what are you doing? What do you want?”

“Crawl to me.”

You look at him like he’s insane, and in all honesty he is, but he only smirks at the look you’re giving him. He leans back in his chair so casually, legs spread open as his left hand dangles between them. It pisses you off that he looks so good like this. Maybe if he hadn’t just kidnapped you, you would be more willing to appreciate how good the view definitely is.

“I said, crawl to me.” His voice is filled with venom as he points to the ground between his legs. He cannot be fucking serious right now.

You look at the stretch of floor between you two. It’s littered with broken glass and who knows what else. It’s obviously been intentionally spread around. This house may be old and abandoned, but the sharp shards are too clean and perfect to have been sitting here long at all. 

He wants you to crawl through shattered glass on your hands and knees to him. Kidnapping you wasn’t enough. Having complete control isn’t enough, he has to exercise it.

“Leon…” you struggle to find the right words, because what are you supposed to say? It’s obvious that you don’t want to crawl across this fucking floor. “Please don’t make me-”

You gasp as your body goes tense from a sudden, unfamiliar pain. It feels like several wasps just stung your neck, and as quick as it hits, it’s gone. 

Your muscles finally loosen and your hands shoot up to your neck, feeling some sort of rough fabric with a rectangular plastic box at the front of your throat.

“What the fuck is this?” Your voice is strained, still panting as you try to recover from the pain.

He chuckles at you. “You will address me as sir and you will crawl to me.”

Your fingers are still fiddling with the device strapped to your throat, trying to find some way to take it off. But it’s complicated not being able to see what you’re doing. Just when you think you might be able to slip a finger under the tight, firm fabric, the pain comes back.

The stinging pain is more intense this time and longer. You’re about to collapse, unable to keep yourself in a sitting position, when the pain once again subsides. 

You can’t stop the tears pouring down your cheeks, body still shaking and in shock from the intensity of the pain to your neck.

“Now. Stop fucking with your collar and crawl to me.” 

Your head shoots up to him at his choice of words. “Collar?”

He licks his lips while a look of amusement lights up his face. “Yes, dumb little bunny. A shock collar. To help you behave.”

The hand that’s been lazily lying between his legs flips around to reveal the remote in his palm. Your eyes widen as your pain riddled brain slowly catches up to the present. A fucking shock collar. He put a shock collar on you like you’re some fucking dog.

“Crawl. To. Me. Now.” He spits out angrily, his tone sending chills down your spine.

When you don’t make any movement, he makes a big show of fiddling with the remote. Taunting you, warning you. 

You let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, shit okay. I’ll crawl to you.” 

“Crawl to who?”

You push yourself up on your knees and lightly bring your palms to the ground, gently sitting them over top of the shattered glass. “You, sir. I’m going to crawl to you, sir.”

He relaxes in his chair once again at your answer, seemingly pleased with it. “Go on then. What’re you waiting for?” 

You take a few deep breaths, attempting to will yourself to move forward. You know you have to do this, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to make the first move.

“Unless you need some more motivation. We could make good use of that collar.”

Your eyes shoot up and look up at him pleadingly, “Please, no.”

“Then fucking move.”

Leon’s patience is completely gone and you don’t want to see what other lengths he’s willing to go to to punish you. 

You reach out with your right hand and your right knee slowly follows. You hiss out as your skin connects with some of the shards.

“That’s it, being such a good girl right now.”

Your breathing stops for a moment as a blush creeps up your neck at the praise. You’re so mad at yourself for your body’s reaction to his words. This is already fucking humiliating, how much worse can it get?

You move your left hand forward, breathing through the pain as it connects with the floor and your left knee follows. You’re going slow, being careful not to cut yourself up worse by being hasty. 

You move your right hand carefully, blood already spilling from the cuts and onto the glass covered floor. It’s making shards stick to your skin and making everything that much more slippery. 

Your right knee connects with the floor, right as the stinging pain returns to your throat. The sudden shock has you digging your knees, hands, and toes in the floor, heightening the pain you were already in.

The pain in your neck is once again gone and you’re left shaking and sobbing as blood puddles around your hands and knees.

“You know how to crawl. Go faster before you piss me off.”

You don’t know why you’re surprised he wants you to crawl faster, causing worse damage to your body. Of course he does. Why would you ever expect to be granted mercy?

You take a deep breath and squeeze your eyes shut tightly. At least you won’t have to see the glass you’re crawling into.

You’re still crawling fairly slowly, but a lot faster compared to your previous pace. You’re whining and groaning in pain and you feel the glass embedded deeply in your skin connect with even more glass. Your lower legs and toes are dragging glass behind you.

You feel the burning pain throughout your hands and legs, but you focus on moving your body forward. 

“Open your eyes.”

You ignore his demands. You’re doing what he’s asking of you and he has the audacity to ask for even more.

“Look at me when you crawl to me. I will not tell you again. Unless you’d like another… shock of encouragement.”

You raise your chin up from your chest and shakily look up at him, opening your eyes. He smiles at you for listening to him and you wanna rip his fucking face off.

Your heart sinks when you realize you’ve only crawled half way so far. The pain is absolutely nauseating and you’re choking down the bile that keeps rising in your throat. 

You begin crawling once again, vision blurry from the tears that are continuously falling.

All you feel is the agonizing pain as you force yourself to Leon’s blurry figure. You’re on the verge of passing out from the pain when you finally place yourself between his legs.

He runs his fingers through your tangled hair, almost soothingly. And you want so badly to jerk your head away, to run from his movements, but you can’t help but give yourself over to the gentle touch. His comfort somehow pulls you back down to Earth from your pain induced robotic state.

“Show me your hands, bunny.”

You go to push yourself up but red hot pain rages through your hands and knees, causing you to scream out in pain. Your body goes to collapse from the sheer exertion, but Leon is quick to catch you, steadying you and forcing you on your knees with your wrists in his hands.

You’re shaking as the glass embedded into your knees is forced deeper into your skin beneath your newly distributed weight. You take deep breaths as you adjust to the new level of pain. Bile fills your mouth, but you’re able to force it back down, the burning sensation of it only adding to your misery.

Your eyes open again after shutting in response to the pain. Your vision clears and you find Leon studying your destroyed hands.

Blood is still oozing from your countless wounds, shards of glass sticking out of your palms and fingers. Your hands and forearms are covered in blood, you can barely see your skin tone through the mess. Your hands are unrecognizable. 

He tsks as he continues to look over them. “These are useless to me now. Shame.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his words, not sure what the implications of his words are. He releases your wrists and you let your hands fall limply into your lap. When his hands move to his belt and he starts unbuckling it, you gasp and try to move away from him but are instantly met with sharp shooting pains in your legs from your injuries.

You’re stuck in place and there’s nothing you can do about it. Anything you could possibly need to do will require Leon’s help. Just how he planned it. 

Rope, duct tape, or any other typical restraints are so boring. Glass being embedded into your skin as you sit in your own blood? Now, that’s new and fascinating. You’re a cute little test subject for his vile thoughts and ideas.

He slides the zipper down his pants and you finally look down at what he’s doing. 

What the fuck? He’s hard, not just hard, but really fucking hard and about to pull his dick out right in your face.

Your throat is raw from your previous wailing so your words come out scratchy. “What, what are you doing?”

“Oh, baby… Look how hard you’ve made my cock. It’s only fair that you let me cream that tight, hot throat in return.”

“What?”

“Oh don’t be such a fucking prude.” He rolls his eyes as he stands before you, sliding his pants and boxers down just enough for his cock to pop out, his tip poking your lips. You attempt to pull your head back, but his hand is quick to grab onto your hair and push your face into his cock. You’re frantically trying to turn your face away from him, but it only has him gripping your hair impossibly tighter.

“Now, now. You don’t need another shock of encouragement do you?”

“N-no. Please.”

“Then start sucking. And don’t try anything smart because I am more than happy to shock your annoying little ass again.”

Before you can even prepare yourself, he’s pressing his fingers into your cheeks and forcing your mouth open, immediately shoving his cock into the back of your throat. You’re instantly gagging. And you’re already so close to throwing up that you’re certain you’re going to puke all over this man's dick.

“See, princess? You don’t want me to do it my way. So fucking behave and don’t stop until I’m creaming that fucking mouth.”

He pulls his dick out and you’re immediately running your tongue up and down his tip. You’re ready to do anything to keep him from choking you like that again. 

“Make me cum in less than two minutes and maybe I’ll consider sparing you.”

You suck his tip into your wet mouth, the taste of his precum flooding your taste buds.

“There ya go. You’re so hot, all dirty and bloody for me. Fuck, I’m gonna cum so fast. Pretty bunny has such a good mouth when she’s not running it.” He chuckles at his own words as you quickly bob your mouth up and down on his dick.

“Just like that. You ready to taste me, baby? Need to cream this throat.”  He speaks quickly as he starts to thrust, meeting every bob of your head. His grip in your hair tightens as his hips still and he holds his tip against the back of your throat.

You resist the urge to gag and cough as you feel his cum fill your throat. You think he’ll never be done when he finally pulls himself from your mouth and stuffs his cock back in his pants. He refastens his belt and turns to walk away, but stops and looks down at you.

“Here.” He grabs your shoulder, causing you to gasp, as he pushes you down to the floor, until you’re laying on your back. “I’ll spare you.”

And then he’s quickly leaving the house, confident that you’re not going anywhere anytime fast. You realize you’re in less pain being off your hands and knees and breathe a sigh of relief. Your weight is distributed better over the glass, so your back and legs only tingle and sting slightly.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

You’re not sure how much time passes as you drift in and out of sleep, but when the front door finally opens, you can’t mask your excitement at Leon finally returning.

“Leon?” You call out in a happy, relieved voice.

“Hi, bunny. How are you doing?” His tone is lighter than you’ve ever heard it before and it fills you with hope.

“I’m gonna piss my pants, can you take me to the bathroom?” The back of your legs are getting badly cut up because you can’t keep your body still as your bladder throbs and aches.

“Sweetheart, you’re so silly.”

His tone is mocking. “What?” You're obviously confused and it has him shaking his head.

“That’s not my problem.”

“I can’t get up.” You whine out, praying he’ll give in and help you.

“I know,” he coos at you, “You’re gonna have to just piss yourself then. But don’t worry, I’ll stay here and watch.”

“What?” 

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. It hurts so much.”

“And you know exactly what will relieve you of that pain don’t you?”

“But I can’t get myself up.”

“That’s too bad.”

You’re so fucking confused. You don’t understand what his game is here. It has to be about control, the humiliation it’ll bring you. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly and try your best to pretend this isn’t happening, but the pain is only getting worse and worse.

“Bunny… Just relax. You’ll feel better if you just relax.”

“Fuck no, Leon. No fucking way.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes!” You open your eyes and give him a dirty look. “I’m not going to lay on the floor in my own blood and piss! What’s wrong with you?”

He smiles as he shakes his head, “You don’t have a choice, baby.”

You don’t know what to say to him. What can you say? Beg for his help? Hope he actually cares? It’s all so useless. You find yourself squeezing your eyes shut and clenching every muscle in your body. This is so stupid, so fucking stupid.

“You really want my help?” Leon breaks the silence, pulling you from your thoughts.

You look up at him once again, “Please.”

“Okay, I’ll help you.” You breathe a sigh of relief. He’s going to help you, there’s some sort of hope. If he can find it in himself to help you now, maybe you’ll be okay. Maybe everything will fall into place.

He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a familiar remote. Your eyes widen in shock, realizing what he’s about to do. “Wait, Leon, don’t-”

But you aren’t even able to finish your statement before the shocks are shooting into your body and every muscle tenses up in resistance. A few seconds feel like minutes before the pain stops and your body goes limp on the ground. Every muscle in your body softens.

Before you can even process what’s happening, before your mind even comes back to yourself, you register a warmth growing on your thighs and ass. The warmth spreads further as you come back to yourself.

The second you realize what’s happening, you wish you’d remained oblivious. You try to stop it, but your body is so weakened that you have no more control. 

You lay on the floor in your dried blood mixing with your hot piss. You’re no longer peeing, but the humiliation has tears welling up in your eyes.

The liquid starts to cool quickly in the chilly air and it has you shivering on the floor. It has you wishing you were dead.

Suddenly, Leon’s petting your head and hushing you. “You’re a good girl, you know that? Did such a good job for me.”

Your eyes dart up to his face. “What?”

“So pretty like this. All wet and helpless.” Your thighs clench together at the praise, furthering your humiliation. Leon notices immediately and smirks down at you. “Let’s get you to bed, shall we?”

You whine as he lifts you in his arms. You’re slack in his arms because of the extensive injuries to your body. You feel your piss soaked body pressed against him and knowing your piss is getting on him makes you wanna vomit.

But that’s not the only thing you feel. This time it’s a lot less surprising, but doesn’t make things make any more sense. His erection pressed against your ass and you don’t have the energy to point it out or try to push yourself away from it.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Thankfully, not a whole lot of glass is embedded in the skin of your back, so you can happily lay in the blankets piled on top of the mattress without causing yourself any more pain.

You lay with your arms against your sides, avoiding making contact with your hands. Every time you look at your hands, your stomach twists and turns at the deformed skin. They’re cut to shit and glass shards stick out haphazardly all throughout the skin.

“Are you comfortable?” Leon asks as he runs a cold, wet washcloth across your forehead.

“As comfortable as I can be.”

“Good, good.” Leon gets up and walks across the room. You let your eyes fall shut, your body crying out for blissful sleep.

You hear Leon’s footsteps approach your bedside, not bothering to open your eyes. You’re not even sure you could open your eyes if you wanted to.

“Baby, keep your eyes shut for me, alright?” You nod as he softly caresses your cheek, pushing your hair from your face. 

“Can you stick your tongue out for me? I got a surprise for you.” You hum in response, too tired to question him. But you couldn’t help the hope growing in your stomach at the thought he might finally give you some water or food.

You lol your tongue out as far as you can and feel him grab it with his thumb and pointer finger. He grips it tightly. You’re not sure why he’s doing it, but once again, you’re too exhausted to question him or resist it.

“This will be quick.” 

You make a “huh” sound as best as you can with your tongue in its current position, and that’s when you hear a disgusting snip sound followed by squelching. 

You start screaming as excruciating pain sets in. Your screams are cut short as you start choking on your own blood, the liquid pouring from the wound and slipping down your throat.

Leon grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you into a sitting position, allowing the blood to pour down your chin rather than your throat. Your body is shaking from the pain, you’re on the verge of passing out, feeling the darkness creeping up on you, awaiting to consume you completely.

“There you go, baby. I got rid of the thing that causes you the most trouble. You’re perfect now.”

Your tears pour down your face, mixing with the blood coming from your mouth. You look down at the bedspread in front of you and the sight of your severed tongue has your vision going foggy. You let out one final cry before passing out from the pain and blood loss.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

It’s been fourteen years, but you still remember it like it was yesterday. You relive those events every fucking day of your miserable existence. It doesn’t help that you have optimal time to think about it in your small prison cell on death row.

Of course he handed you over to the police with some elaborate story on how he found you out and when he confronted you, you went crazy and mutilated yourself. And of course, you can’t properly defend yourself, considering he took your fucking tongue. You could write out your claims of innocence over and over, but how could you possibly convey it with words alone?

Leon framed you for all of the murders. Planted all the evidence at your apartment and in your car, “finding” all the overlooked leads in your office. It was a pretty open and shut case. Took the jury less than an hour to find you guilty and for you to get sentenced to death.

Tomorrow’s the day. You’ll finally get the lethal injection and be free from your own personal purgatory. You’re confined to a prison cell by yourself 24/7 considering if you show your face outside of it, other inmates are instantly on you. You’re America’s most brutal female serial killer, how could they not want to kill you?

It’d be too easy if the prison would just let the other inmates go through with it. Just put you out of your misery and throw your body into the prison’s graveyard. But no. No amount of suffering will ever be enough to pay for “your” crimes.

You hate yourself. You look at your unrecognizable, mutilated hands and all you can do is sigh as you slip one down between your spread thighs to relieve the ache you feel between them.

In your line of work, you were well aware that trauma could cross wires in your brain. You can’t control your trauma responses. But the fact that your pussy is always soaking wet when you think about his dick in your mouth and the praising words he spoke to you is torture in itself.

You try to think of anything else, anything else at all. Even when your fantasies don’t revolve around that man, you can’t get yourself off without thinking of what he did to you. 

As you lay in bed, shirt stuffed between your teeth to silence your sounds, you feel your climax grow closer and closer and his face above you is all you can see. And no matter how many times you go over it with yourself, telling yourself it’s a trauma response, you know the truth. You know that deep down you loved what he did to you and the only thing that makes you so angry is the fact that he put you here.

Here in this cold, lonely cell to waste away for the rest of your days. Leaving you with a heart, soul, and cunt that aches for him. You know what he’s done and you hate it, but you can’t bring yourself to hate him.

And as your wetness runs down your fingers, coating your palm in the proof of exactly what he does to you, all you can think about is that fucking day. You’re going to die tomorrow and here you are touching yourself to the man that put you here.

Your orgasm tears through you, leaving you a shaking and shivering mess in your threadbear sheets on your paper thin cot. It’d be so much easier to hate him, but you have the curse of hating yourself instead. 

Tomorrow you will die and pay for your crimes. And maybe the crimes you’ll be dying for aren’t yours, but you still deserve to pay for being so fucked in the head. So you’re happy, almost giddy to be dying tomorrow. 

Maybe you’ve gone mad, or maybe you were always mad to begin with and it took him coming along to pull it out of you. Either way, not like it fucking matters. You’ll still be dead and he’ll still be a free man. But you caught the killer and for that, you’ll always be a good fucking detective. 

~masterlist~

[littlemisskookie]

Crocodile Tears: Intro

Crocodile Tears: Index Ship: Stoner!Reader | Stoner!BTS Description: You accidentally eat brownies with aphrodisiacs in them. Even worse one of your asshole friends catch you reading smut to cope, and decides to airdrop your collection of your dirtiest fantasies to the rest of the house. Just your luck. Warnings: Dub-Con, Degradation, Humiliation, Dom!BTS, Sub!Reader, Weed (sorry it’s what helps get me in the mood to write these), Dirty Talk, Kink Shaming?, mentions of the reader being into kind of dark/taboo kinks, Jimin is incredibly mean for no reason, Reader is ridiculously horny and is good at weed Word Count: 2,397 A/N: This has now been edited and finalized which means I can get started on the first segment!

You coughed, smoke erupting from between your lips. You feel Jungkook's large hand offering a comforting (arousing) pat on your back, rubbing gently to comfort you out of your coughing fit.  Damn, why'd you have to get horny when you were smoking weed? It didn't help that you were surrounded by perhaps the hottest guys on campus. Who would've thought that befriending fellow stoner, Hoseok, over a blunt in a party would lead to introducing you to his other stoner friends? Before you knew it, you guys would hang out regularly, bonding over a bong.

Today wasn't supposed to be any different from those days. You had smoked with these seven plenty of times before. Most of the time it was in Yoongi's studio apartment, practically hot boxing the small space. 

Today though you guys were lucky.  Namjoon's rich parents were going to be gone on a cruise for two weeks. You guys could smoke carefree in a nice ass mansion and not have to worry about the smell, as Namjoon assured you the maids would take care of it. (They much preferred Namjoon to his parents despite the weed smell assistances, probably because he's so charming. You didn't blame them. Namjoon had that old money charm, the type that would make you not hesitate to do whatever he asked.)

You guys brought bongs, edible gummies, baked goods, weed, pipes, snacks, water bottles, pens and carts- anything a proper stoner hangout would need.

Part of the reason the guys adored you so much was because you had the highest tolerance of any girl they ever met, which was very contradictory to first glance. You could outsmoke any man you met, and could brag you had never greened out despite the amount of weed you'd smoke once challenged. You could simply keep going, you were a beast, this was your talent. You were proud to say you had outsmoked each and every man in this room, earning their respect and the privilege of joining their smoking group. You weren't going to argue. You've never gotten so much free weed and attention from hot guys in your life.  You were used to the attention it would bring you now for the most part. Cute girl who smokes weed? It's stoner boy kryptonite, basically your super power. 

Except against one. There was one guy that definitely wasn't the most respectful to you, treating you like he barely even liked you, but for some reason you didn't find yourself minding. You don't think you'd mind it from any of these guys, but as it was, your stoner powers gave you a leg up on these guys. Most of them wouldn't dare think about disrespecting a deity like you.

That didn't mean you didn't have your moments of coughing, though. Usually you were better and holding it down nowadays, but it was a bigger hit than you were anticipating. 

Jungkook pulled the bong back, face in front of yours to examine your expression. "You ok?" he asked. You look up at him, eyes locking. He's got that hooded eyes, hazy look in the eye that looked so similar to "fuck me" eyes. You didn't want to assume, though. Too many times guys told you it looked like you were giving them fuck me eyes when in reality out were simply stoned. 

"I'm good," you assured, trying not to think about how good his lip ring looked. Shit, you were probably staring at it right now. You quickly turn away, feeling flushed, reaching for the plate of brownies you had pulled from the kitchen. "God, I'm having insane cravings right now, though!"

"Wait, Y/N, where'd you get those brownies?" Jin inquired, squinting down at your plate. 

"In the kitchen. Namjoon said I could help myself to whatever food's there." You paused after scarfing down another bite. "Oh no, do these have more weed in them? I mean I think I'll be fine, but shit."

Jin's mouth dropped open. "Uh, no... not weed."

Your brows furrowed as you stared back at him. "What is it, then? Did you put fentanyl in brownies, Jin?!"

"God, no! Not fentanyl... aphrodisiacs," Jin sheepishly admitted.

"What the fuck, man, why'd you bring sex brownies to the party?" Yoongi laughed. "Trying to start an orgy or something?"

"No! Me and Y/N were just joking about it last time we hung out and were talking about those chocolates on tik tok that make you horny. She was like what if we all took one and saw what happened? I decided to make some myself and brought them. I didn't know Y/N was going to end up eating half of them herself!" Jin explained hurriedly, eyes glancing to you quickly for help. 

"So you were trying to start an orgy!" Yoongi accused. 

You bursted out laughing. "Well, that explains a lot. At least I can't overdose on aphrodisiacs. Teaches me not to let my munchies get the best of me." You turn to Jungkook, biting your lip at the sight of him. These sex brownies were really doing something to you. You're all giggly, though, from the weed. "Munch. Munchies. Do you think munches get munchies?"

"Y/N definitely seems high enough," Namjoon laughs. "Sorry you're just going to be stuck with the brownies... effects. You sure you'll be ok?"

You wave your hand dismissively. "I'll be fineeee. I'm basically horny most of the time anyways, this will be no different."

"TMI," Hoseok jokes, rolling his eyes.

You were fine.

For all of, like, ten minutes.

Once an hour had passed, you were practically wanting to jump out of your skin. You found your mind wandering off, you were biting your lips far more often than usual, your eyes weren't just blazed stupor, but full on fuck me eyes. You found yourself staring intently at your guy friends. Jimin's thick lips wrapping around a blunt, letting smoke pour out. The way he was staring back at you, almost suspicious. God, he'd probably be disgusted if we knew what sort of thoughts you were having about him. He always acted a bit disgusted by you. You eyes flitted away to his best friend next to him. Taehyung's hands gripping around the bong, elegant fingers wrapping around it, veins tracing along the middle. You wondered if he'd choke you if you asked. Wait stop. You try to keep your high mind from wandering off to dirty places and focus on what's in front of you. Jungkook's tattooed fingers as he rolled up a joint for you, doing so with such delicacy and precision. He was so careful, and was definitely the best at rolling. You sucked at it, and were grateful that Jungkook's attentive personality made him volunteer to be your personal roller. Without thinking, you bring your fingers up to your mouth, chewing on your thumbnail as you stare at Jungkook with a certain intensity.

It was Taehyung who spoke to you first.  "Y/N, you good? You looking kinda zoned out, there." 

You snapped out of it, hand flying away from your mouth. "Huh? Oh, sorry, I was just thinking."

"Your joint's done," Jungkook said, tatted hand offering it up to you.

"Thank you, Kookie," you grin, tussling his hair in front of you. Fuck, you wanted to grip it while his head was between your legs. You reach back, clearing your throat. "It's kind of hot in here, actually. I think I'll go to the balcony."

You hope they don't read too much into your need of absence, but who were you kidding. You were obvious. 

You leaned against the railing of the balcony, enjoying the fresh air. You lit up the joint and inhale the smoke, opening your phone to distract yourself. With smut. Hey, horny brain has a one track mind? You pull up your fanfiction recommendation blog, mainly used to store your favorites and save for later, for times like these. You scroll past the stories, each depraved tag and recollection of the smut's materials not seeming like enough. 

You clicked on the third story, entrenched in the words as you try to imagine the scene before you. The weed made your mind hazy. You didn't know how much time you had spent out here reading porn. The joint was already halfway finished.

You didn’t even notice the balcony door being open and shut behind you, finding yourself too engrossed in the words on your screen. Perhaps if you were sober, you’d have felt his presence behind you, eyes peering over your shoulder.

"What's sex pollen?"

You practically jumped out of your skin, squealing at the feeling of hot air against your ear. You spun around, lower back soon pressed against the railing as your space was invaded, to see Jimin, his red tinged eyes meeting yours. The one man here not impressed with your surprisingly high tolerance. Maybe because he of all people knew about deceiving appearances. He leaned in closer, far closer to you than he had ever been in the time you’ve spent with him and his friends. His chest was a mere few inches in front of yours, hands clasped against the railing beside yours, trapping you. The aphrodisiacs weren’t helping you, and you were feeling a certain type of way about having a handsome man so close to you.

"Jimin! What're you doing here?" Your heart pounded erratically in your chest, the anxiety overwhelming you at being caught.

"You've been out here for a while, the guys were getting worried about you," Jimin explained. A devious smirk formed on his lips. "Guess I should explain to them you're fine, just out here basically reading porn."

"I-I'm not-"

"Oh? What's sex pollen, then?" Jimin grabbed your phone, your reflexes too slow to stop him. He wore a shit eating grin as he watched your eyes flit between your phone and his face, unable to even process the beginning of your defeat. You were completely defenseless and stunned, not sure how to understand how he had beaten you so swiftly, or why he was particularly smug about it. You don't think he's ever smiled at you before, whether out of kindness or humor. This smile lacked both. This was a grin of enjoyment at the sight of you fussing and at his mercy. "Explain, Y/N."

You gulped. "I-It's just this like… trope.”

“Trope?” His thumb slides up the screen, the sentences scrolling by. “Seems pretty scandalous compared to your typical romance tropes. I don’t think I’ve heard of this one, before.”

“It’s more of a fanfiction trope than an actual literature trope…” 

“Oh? How’s it work, then? What’s so appealing about it?” Jimin’s amused expression was in stark juxtaposition to your flushed, embarrassed one.

“U-Um… it’s w-when the person gets affected by this pollen or something in general that makes them all... needy. And they need someone to take care of it for them."

“Take care of it how?”

You huffed, irritated with his teasing. “What do you think? You already know. It’s called sex pollen for a reason, quit teasing me.”

"Oh?" Jimin quirked up a brow, obviously pleased with your embarrassment and stammering. His hand came up to your throat, and there was a hitch in your breath. "But it’s so fun.”

“No it’s n-not-“ It was hard to keep your sentences structured well as Jimin tilted your head back, hand sliding further up to your jaw, making you lean back. Adrenaline pumped through you has your anxieties increased, all to aware of you dangling halfway off the railing at this height. 

“This trope of yours sounds very familiar. Taking aphrodisiacs, familiar.” His chuckle was taunting in your ear, his soft breath noticeable in the night air. “Hoping for something to happen, Y/N?”

"No, I-"

"Did you do it on purpose, sweetheart? Wanted one of us to take care of you? Put you out of your mercy and fuck you cause you need it so badly?" 

You gasped at his words, his hand gripping  your jaw, forcing you to look at him. Your back was still arched against the railing, and both of your hands clasped around Jimin's arm for support, afraid of both falling back and falling into him. His muscles felt so firm underneath your fingertips , and you tried not to think about how much you had missed the feeling of digits on your throat. Jimin's eyes flit over to your screen, going back to scroll through the stories you saved. He could probably feel your heartbeat against his fingerprints quicken as he delved deeper into your trove of dark and twisted fantasies. "Fuck, this is some really nasty shit, Y/N. You're into some depraved shit. Alpha/Omega? CNC? Step-siblings? Always knew you were a pervert. Bet you've thought about us gang banging you before, huh?"

His canines gleam in the dim light, taunting you. Your wide eyes met his with terror, and you whimpered in his hold.

"Fuck, Jimin, please please please don't tell them-" you pleaded.

"But how can I keep this to myself?" In horror, you watched his devious fingers tap against your phone screen, airdropping your blog of fanfiction collections to the rest of the house. He let you go, allowing you to catch your breath as he backed away from you. Fishing out his own phone, he accepted the request. He waved your own screen in front of your face, taunting you with your own powerlessness. You grab it from him, staring in horror as you see that three people accepted the airdrop. Fuck. It wasn't like you could even pretend it wasn't you, your name was attatched. The worst part is you didn't even know who accepted it, the names only being "iPhone".

You stared up at Jimin in horror, only to see his sadistic grin as he scrolls through your personal porn stash. "Don't worry, I'll make all your dirty fantasies come true," Jimin chuckled. "I’ll be a bit busy for now, though. Have to catch up on some light reading. Besides,” he turned towards the door, looking back to you with devious excitement. “You’re a big girl, I’ll let you take care of this by yourself.”

He left you alone on that balcony, gawking and trembling, wondering just what would happen if you were to step back in that house.

[nicksolemnlyswears]

You write Coryo sooo well. We saw Coryo with an innocent reader, but what would happen if the reader is as wicked as he is and they fight for control?

summary: coriolanus finds his match

pairing: young! coriolanus snow x capitol! scientist! reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, breast play (some slapping too), overstimulation (f and m receiving)(mostly coryo really), very little dacryphilia, p in v, unprotected sex (please don't do it like them), perv! coriolanus always, slight cum play, pain kink aka masochism also i think some sadism too, is that all? i think so, oh no wait, physical violence and borderline dub non-con. basically it’s angry sex

a/n: i'm so sorry this took so long! most of it was written a when the request was sent but i've just managed to come back and finish it. hope something like this was what you had in mind. i'll be working on the mentor pt. 2 this next week!

requests open ✨

You and Coriolanus are extremely competitive. It both scares and annoys the rest of the laboratory.

You and Snow share many similarities. Both need to be successful and get the things you want no matter the cost.

Being a year older than Snow, you were already working under Dr. Gaul at the university. Learning about his cheating ways made you lose any respect you could’ve had for him.

More so, you did not appreciate being pushed to the side as Dr. Gaul raved on and on about her new star pupil. The one that changed the game.

Whenever he walked into the room your face would fall into a scowl. You avoid him like the plague whenever Gaul doesn’t assign you to work with him.

The other student's whispers reached his ears about how your cold aura is because of him and his excellence. About how you think he’s better than you. Coriolanus took it in stride, he loved that he had that effect on people.

Being the top two students you're forced to work together constantly, which leads to learning about each other's ambition and story. Still, you don't hesitate to screw each other over to get the upper hand.

It’s the very own hunger games right in Dr. Gaul's lab and she knows it. She takes any opportunity to pin you against Coriolanus and get the best scientific outcomes. Gaul manipulates the situation, lying about what Coriolanus thinks about you and vice versa.

Dr. Gaul thrives from the tension that resides in the lab when you and Coriolanus are forced to work together. While you and Coriolanus break your backs and spirits she sits back to watch and see how far your minds will soar.

So much anger can only lead to two scenarios: violence or sex. Well... three if you mix violence and sex.

You want to get rid of Snow but Snow wants you by his side. You can't be a threat if he holds you close and predicts each one of your movements in his game of chess. He wonders what it would be like to have someone who would kill for him.

Coriolanus makes it one of his goals to seduce you and make you submit to him. He wants to make you another weapon in his arsenal. One that will kill for him when prompted to.

One late night, you work from his apartment, brainstorming ideas for the next Hunger Games. Usually, you would do this from the lab, but after one of the experiments escaped, the lab had to be fumigated and cleaned.

You pace the living room to calm your anger. You're pissed off at the blonde man that sits on the sofa. His legs spread wide as his head leans back on the backrest.

For hours, all he's done is undermine you and shoot down all your ideas, calling them stupid and unnecessary. Tempting you to wrap your hands around his pale neck. To feel his adam’s apple bob under your strangulating touch.

He knows you're angry. It's exactly what he wanted. If he pushes your buttons long enough you'll lose your resolve and it'll be his moment to strike.

"You're joking, right? We bring your idea to Dr. Gaul and she'll laugh in our face. I didn't take you for a clown," Coriolanus taunts, standing from his couch to stretch his stiff muscles.

Whipping around you stalk towards his tall figure, pushing his chest angrily. Coriolanus pushes his tongue agains the inside of his cheek to control his temper.

It's a stupid thing that wouldn't get arise out of you any other day, but you've had enough of Coriolanus inability to listen and accept that other's ideas are better than his. "You're such a piece of shit, Snow. Clearly you don't fucking need me since your ideas are so brilliant. Fucking insufferable know it-" you exclaim, continuing to push him back.

Coriolanus strikes like a scorpion would, fast and precise. His peacekeeper training kicks in as he takes hold of your wrists in one hand while the other comes up behind your neck. His lips smash against yours roughly, forcing you into a heated kiss.

You're frozen in your spot, arms going limp from shock. You don't have time to process Coriolanus actions as he pulls away from you. He waits for your reaction tentatively. This will either go terribly wrong or brilliantly well.

You stare at him with burning cheeks, anger seeping into your bones. How dare he kiss you when you're trying to make a point. Your anger is not something to take lightly.

Ripping your hands away from his loose hold, you bring one up to slap against his cheek.

Smack!

The silence is deafening. Coriolanus now sports a cheek as red as yours. Your chest heaves in anger, eyebrows furrowed and calculating eyes.

He holds his stinging cheek with his hand as his face morphs back into anger. Coriolanus never expected his goal to be easy, but he won't bury his enraged feelings for you.

His mouth opens to shout at you to leave yet you surprise him, pulling him by his shirt to deposit a kiss on his lips. Reacting quickly he grabs your hips, so you're flush against him.

It's your choice to kiss him not his. You'll be damned the day you take Coriolanus' lead.

Coriolanus' body is burning hot. Flames of anger and frustration licking at him the more deeply you kiss him. You try pushing your wet tongue into his mouth but are met with resistance, biting his lower lip harshly lets you slip it in but not without effort as his tongue wrestles yours for dominance.

Things continue to escalate quickly as Coriolanus pushes you down the hallway to his bedroom. It's not a question whether this is happening or not. You've held back too long to stop now.

Wandering hands touch any body part they can reach. His fingers tangle in your hair, hand finding your front to squeeze at your tits. You moan into his mouth, giving him the pleasure to lick at your mouth.

Coriolanus slams you against his bedroom door when it closes, letting some steam off. You frustrate him like no one ever has, he's resorted to imagining you in lewd and degrading situations before he does something he regrets.

In that same vein, you rip open his shirt. The buttons fly everywhere, annoying Coriolanus even if he now owns more shirts that he needs. Your nails drag down his chest, causing thin red lines to decorate his pale chest. The palm of your hand presses on the tent of his slacks, feeling how hard he's become for you.

You chuckle into the kiss in a teasing manner. Typical man aroused by the smallest bit of attention. Coriolanus shuts you up, grabbing your ass and pressing you into his erection.

Anger mixes with arousal as you and Coriolanus bully each other to submit. It's not sweet and delicate. It's animalistic and boderline painful.

The kiss is sloppy, a mix of teeth and tongue as Coriolanus sits on his bed and you climb over him, straddling his lap. It's rushed, giving the illusion you're afraid of being caught fucking the person you hate most.

There is no time to get naked. With his shirt ripped open, he unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his neatly ironed pants. You barely lift your skirt, pushing your panties to the side.

His neck tilts back as you leave bruises behind, teasing his pulse point with your tongue. With a tight grip on the outside of your thigh Coriolanus get his cock wet with the juices that drip from your cunt. You'd just made fun of him for being aroused when you're in the same condition if not worse.

Your hips stutter at the sensation of the blunt head of his cock, prodding your entrance. He wants you to say it, 'Fuck me, Coryo.' You'd rather be dead first.

You force yourself down Coriolanus cock instead to stop the teasing. “Ahh,” you moan in unison. Stilling for the first time since he kissed you.

He feels your breath hitch on his neck when you take the last inch of him. Such a slut taking all of him in one go.

“Coriolanus,” you groan as he forces you to bounce on top of him. You hate to admit how long and thick he is. It makes your eyes roll to the back of your head each time it drags on your walls.

You hold onto dear life. Arms around his shoulders and head nestled on his neck. Coriolanus' fists your skirt, guiding your movements on his cock.

“It’s Coryo,” he groans. Hearing you say his nickname will be the biggest form of submission. It means you've given yourself to him.

“Coriolanus,” you repeat intentionally, pulling away from his neck to look into his angry eyes. With your fingers on the side of his neck and your thumb tilting his head up you force him to look at you head on.

“Insufferable girl. Must you always fight me on everything,” he seethes, grasping your hips to slam down on his. You make his blood boil.

You wince when the rounded head of his cock hits your cervix, red fingernails digging onto his shoulder. “Yes, I’ve been working too hard to let you get away with everything.”

Coriolanus is determined to set the pace, pushing into you and using your hips as a handle to pull you up and down. You're bound to have bruises in the morning.

It's uncomfortable the way your skin becomes clammy with exertion. Leaves you no choice but to unbutton your white school shirt, giving Coriolanus a glimpse of your lace bra that leaves nothing to the imagination.

Your nipples poke through the sheer material, teasing Coriolanus as they beg to be set free. They temp him with every rise and fall of your chest, a sheen of sweat decorating your skin like glitter.

It drives him nuts to know you're wearing the provocative garment under your shirt everyday in the lab. Hidden from him like treasure. Were you hoping he'd see you like this or do you like fucking around with any other student in the lab?

His thoughts anger him further, ducking his head he catches your nipple through the flimsy material. His teeth nip at your stiff peak, earning a seductive whine from you as his hold slips due to the slippery material.

Unconsciously you give in to the instruction of the blonde man, bouncing your hips to his rhythm. Too busy relishing on the pleasurable pain on your chest.

He leaves wet kisses on the swells of your breast, sucking bruises into them. If you were to be fucking any other man they'd know he was here.

His licking up your neck make you clench around him. His hips stutter and you grin, repeating the motion repeatedly. You have to make him cum first to prove he is a disappointment. Like all your other loser boyfriends that never made you cum.

He spanks the globe of your ass harshly, making you jump from the sting and suppress a whine. He's catching onto what you're doing and he's going to prove you wrong.

Biting the spot between your neck and shoulder, he increases the pace he's set. He's confident his self control is better than yours and he's going to make you cum around his cock.

“If you were smart enough we could help each other,” Coriolanus speaks between groans. One of his hands splayed on your back coming up to undo the clasp of your bra.

“I’m smart enough to know you’ll take over completely and I don’t share,” you pant with hooded eyes, letting the flimsy undergarment fall off your arms as you wrap your arms around his neck.

With your tits bouncing freely in front of his face he takes one into his mouth. Sucking the plump flesh and teasing your nipple with his tongue.

You pull him further towards you, your hand on the back of his blonde head, grinding down on his cock. Fuck, he's making you see starts, you can't remember a time you've been fucked this good.

With your head tilted back, moans slip past your lips, letting Coriolanus know you're losing yourself. Taking the opportunity, he flips you over and slams you on the bed. With your legs spread around him he can take a good long look at your cunt.

You're a mess. Wrinkly skirt, flipped up onto your stomach, cunt flushed and smeared with a cream he wants to taste. Your panties pushed to the side but soaked with your arousal.

He pinches your cunt with two fingers, seeing your lips press on your swollen clit and creamy white slick drip down your slit. A cynical grin on his lips.

"Never seen a real pussy before, Coriolanus?" you taunt, meeting his gaze.

"Next time it'll be your mouth I'm fucking. See if that will keep you quiet," he threatens, pushing his cock back into your weeping cunt. He bottoms out in one swift movement, a breathy moan in the back of his throat.

"Oh my god," you cry out, fisting the sheets. Without the burning of your thighs you can fully concentrate on the way his cock abuses your hole. You're done for.

"Not god, just me," Coriolanus mocks, thumbing your clit.

You close your eyes, memorizing how he drags slowly out of you before snapping his hips back into you. His hand on your waist, preventing you from sliding up on the bed with each one of his bruising thrusts.

Coriolanus is awfully quiet as he admires the creamy white ring that forms at the base of his cock each time he pushes into your puffy cunt.

If only your mouth was as sweet. He's determined on getting your lips and warm tongue around his cock. Once he makes sure you won't bite.

Not one to make things easy for him you repeat his name over and over again. "Coriolanus, Coriolanus, Coriolanus." Your taunting spurs him on, gives him an end goal as he fucks wildly into you.

The sound of skin slapping and your wet pussy squelching are deafeningly loud. For extra measure, Coriolanus paws your tits, the fatty flesh bulging between his fingers. Letting go he delivers a swift slap to the skin. Red flares up and your pretty cunt squeezes him until he can barely move.

You've gone quiet, face morphed into one of pure pleasure. You're as sadistic as he is. Pain gets you off. He should've known. Great minds think alike.

“Now you're quiet. Huh? I would've done this a lot earlier had I known my cock was the answer," he huffs, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

His pace is relentless, bullying the spongy spot inside of you. You're not sure how much more of this you can take. With each thrust his pelvis slams against your clit. His thumb inadvertently rubs circles on your hip.

“You’re just a perv that needs his dick wet,” you barely manage to say between moans. Your hands have released the tight hold on the sheets, coming up to hold Coriolanus' sides.

“And you’re going to give it to me, aren’t you?” His gravely voice asks in your ear, licking the shell of your ear.

Your silence produces a dark chuckle. You know you're going to cum any time now, staying silent is not an option. “Only when it’s convenient for me,” you lilt. You keep challenging him, pushing your luck.

Coriolanus meets your fucked out gaze. His blonde hair falls and sticks to his forehead in a way that makes you hate him even more. If he was unattractive it would be so much easier.

Sneaking his hand between your sweaty bodies he thumbs your sensitive clit. “Co-Corio-” You can't pronounce his stupidly long name as he furiously abuses your clit and bullies your walls.

“That’s more like it,” he grins maliciously.

Your peak approaches with an intensity you can't handle. Coriolanus overstimulates you as your cunt clenches around him, forcing his cock to remain still inside of you. Your whole body shakes with each wave, your legs trapping him on top of you as he takes in the throes of your orgasm.

Your eyes scrunch close and your mouth opens in a silent plead. Coriolanus is hyperaware of the tear that slides down from your wet eyelashes. He cleans it off with his thumb, tasting it as his tongue wraps around the pad of his finger.

Sweet taste of victory.

Slipping his cock out of your pulsing walls Coriolanus drops on the bed beside you, catching his breath. His cock is achingly hard, covered in your slick cum. The tip flushed red and leaking pre. He had his victory doesn't matter if he got to cum or not.

You're no quitter though. You might not be able to walk tomorrow but you have to prove a point. You're not getting pushed around by the man that is Coriolanus Snow.

Ignoring the post orgasmic twitching of your cunt you straddle Coriolanus, pushing his chest down when he tries to sit up.

"What're you doing?" He asks alarmed, holding your waist to stabilize you from your shaky legs.

"You didn't get to cum, Coriolanus," you shrug cheekily, grabbing his aching cock and lining it up with your entrance. You suck in a breath as you slide down it's length one more time.

"Fuck," he curses, throwing his head back on the mattress. This isn't an act of service. This is torture.

Your fluttering walls milk him for all that he is worth. Your hips grind down on him, his pelvic bone and thighs getting soaked. The slick noise coming from your pussy and his cock is obscene. Erotic in its own right.

He tries pushing away but you put your weight down onto his hands, giving the illusion you've immobilized him. Coriolanus could've escaped any moment, but the ache in his balls stopped him. He's thinking with his dick.

His heavy balls are tightening despite how much he's holding back and thinking of anything other than the woman on top of him. His body tells him to give in and to fill you up with his cum, like it's supposed to be.

“Gonna cum, Coriolanus?” You ask, scratching down his taut abdomen. “Who’s quiet now?” You chuckle, throwing your head back as you ride him.

The only control he has in his possession resides in closing his eyes to shut out the pornographic view of you on top of him. Tits bouncing, pussy sucking him up, pretty face with a mean smirk.

Knowing all he needs is a push you lean down to give him a couple of encouraging words, "You feels so good, Coryo."

You swear you feel his cock twitch inside of you. Grabbing his hand you bring it up to your chest, placing it on your breast. "So big and thick. I've never had anyone this big stretching me out. I want your cum in me, Coryo. You won. You deserve it."

A gravely moan rises from his throat, thrusting into you he shoots his cum deep into your cunt. His blue eyes open and all they find is your wicked grin.

"Fuck, wait," he pleads when you continue to grind on his dick, keeping his cum in you, forcing it deeper inside.

After the torture you put him through, his cock head is too sensitive, almost painful. You're determined to get another orgasm out of him though.

“Want me to stop?” You ask in faux concern, continuously gyrating your hips, causing more friction against your walls and his tip. “Just ask.”

Coriolanus glares at you. You're getting off from his pain. If look could kill you'd be 6ft underground by now. All of your encouraging words from before a lie to get him like this. He might've won the battle, but you'll win the war.

His jaw is tense as he hold back whines, shuddering when you clench around him. Teasingly you slide up his shaft until the tip in the only part inside before you push back down.

Coriolanus' grip on you is bruisingly tight but not enough for you to stop using him as your toy. Your orgasm builds the more he holds onto you. He spanks the outside of your thighs, but this isn't a game. Three taps will not get you out.

Leaning into him you press your lips against his. Burying his hands on you hair he kisses you back harshly, holding you to him and biting your lip when you try to pull away.

The sting of his teeth digging onto your lip and the taste of your blood throws you over the edge. "Fuck," you squeal against his lips as the waves crash against you.

The whine of your name that comes out of Coriolanus' lips is something you want to remember forever. The clenching and unclenching of your orgasm triggers him to bust, your pussy essentially milking him of every drop of cum as he paints your walls white.

Lightly but firmly he pushes you off of him afraid you'll pull another stunt like that. You fall of the bed beside him, his cum trickling out of your pink center down onto the sheets. You push it out of you, enjoying the sensation of it trickling down your entrance.

For a moment you're clearheaded and don't hate Coriolanus. The raging dumspter fire in your chest extinguished, leaving smoke and weak flickers of fire behind that can be reignited at any given moment.

“We can add your suggestion to the presentation. Putting trackers on them is a good idea,” Coriolanus mutters next to you, looking strictly at the ceiling.

You giggle and shake your head, “And all it took was to fuck you. You're like all other men aren't you?" Your words are accusatory but your tone says otherwise and Coriolanus allows himself to crack a smile.

“Is it so difficult for you to say thank you?" He asks turning his head to look at you.

"To you? A little," you say scrunching your nose and laughing once more.

Coriolanus enjoys your laugh but loves your drive and determination even more.

A toxic relationship sprouts from this moment. You’re tools to help each other succeed in your endeavors. Love takes a while to develop but once it does no one can tear you apart…except for each other.

“You two are getting along today,” Dr. Gaul hums as she walks along the lab. She's missed any argument and jeer that might materialize between you and Coriolanus.

You take the lead to respond to her observation, “We’ve come to an understanding. Coryo-Coriolanus and I. All this bickering can’t be good for the work environment. It's highly unprofessional."

Coriolanus' lips quirk into a half smile as his nickname escapes from your lips. Progress is being made.

Dr. Gaul is blissfully unaware that just five minutes ago you were in the bathroom, getting your ass spanked bright red by Coriolanus because you wouldn't listen to him. After, he fucked you over the sink with a hand clasped over your mouth to keep your smartass comments from coming out.

"Hm," is all Dr. Gaul says, hoping this new arrangement doesn't take away from your performances.

You shift uncomfortably in your station, focusing back on the screen but unable to ignore Coriolanus' seed pooling in your panties.

*peaks head around corner* heeeyyy hey, sorry i disappeared for a while. i had a very interesting december and january has been just as busy

*nervous glance* what did you think of this pairing? very different from the other more innocent reader. i quite like her she's feisty. i'm sorry to the person who requested this if its not what you expected. did you want more plot? i can do that too if you want.

well, bye *waves*

the mentor pt 2 coming soon^^

[eris-snow]

𝐀 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐎𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐀𝐢𝐫

Tags: Revelation (Deku's birthday series 2024), izuku x fem!reader, angst, fluff, comfort, period cramps

Masterlist

July 2nd. Even and Odd.

---

To say you were feeling shitty would be an understatement. For one, your period came early, and now you were stuck bleeding out with chronic back pain and cramps. A headache storms its way and makes itself right at home, and by the end of training, you’re stuffing Panadol down your throat like it's the last slab of meat at a buffet. It doesn’t really work, and you’re already used to how unproductive you are when bleeding week knocks on your door, but it’s still a pain in the ass. (Literally)

With the holidays hot on the heels, Aizawa has reverted to the basics, leaving them to run laps around the school to build stamina. Whoever ran the least number of laps would be in charge of clean up of the dorms for a week, and everyone was off before their Sensei could even say “Ready, set, go.”

Eyebags sag deep under your eyes as you run, but you weren’t last at the very least.

“Mind if I join you?” A full-body shiver envelops you as you startle. The light tone of the voice, tipped with eternal nervous energy; the voice of the Savior of the world. You turn, and your eyes are met with mossy hair, freckles and a boy who’s already turning into a man.

Izuku’s smile is gentle, and you can read him like a damn book because that’s the same look he had last year at the very place he forgot you existed. He wants something.

What do you want?

Lips pull downwards, and Izuku jogs beside you, passing trees that are flourishing in the heat of summer. His forehead creases, and Izuku looks worried, confused, and just the slightest bit offended. “What do you mean?”

Crap, you said it aloud.

“We don’t exactly…talk.” You say, forcing yourself to reply. “We only really interact if we’re working together for an assignment.”

Pity etches itself on Izuku’s face, masked with the horrified look you know all too well. “I’m…sorry you felt that way.’ He murmurs. “We’re like family, our class. I didn’t know you felt left out."

You hate him.

You love him.

“A-Anyway,” laughs Izuku, scratching the back of his head. “I found your note in the dustbin yesterday.”

Fuck.

“Kacchan was the one who showed it to me.”

I swear to All Might, that asshole just can’t keep his mouth shut—

“I’m…worried about you, L/n. You’re strong, and you’re smart, and I can see how you passed the transfer exam to U.A because of your battle strategy and your out-of-the-box thinking methods, but your note—”

If I tell you I’m not who you think I am…will you believe me?

“And the fact that you asked me to believe you—”

please believe me, Izuku

“What is it that you want me to believe so desperately?” His voice is firm, resilient, curious and you’re cursing yourself all the way to hell. You’ve been avoiding looking at Izuku’s eyes. Those emerald green pearls that held so many emotions—love, admiration, everything—for you, and once it’s gone you can never unsee what it used to be.

Suddenly, cicadas are chirping and you’re back in the clearing you dubbed as yours. Your hand is outstretched, and Izuku’s nothing but a mess of curls and tears, smothered with dirt and grass.

“Who are you?” He had croaked, bruised and scared.

Your breath comes out in short puffs, and this time, he’s strong, running by you side by side, scars littering every inch of his hands.

“Who are you?”

Everything hurts, and when you look up to finally meet his eyes, and, oh, they’re so beautiful. “I’m…”

Your lips curl into a smile, falling back into old, bad habits.

“Some that’s going to beat you in this exercise.”

Takeoff comes naturally because the only real thing you know how to do is run away from your problems like a coward. Izuku’s calling, and you know he can catch up to you faster than you can pick an eyelash, but you just run, and run, and keep running until your lungs explode with hissy, petty burns. Your world is turning black and grey, all the green, the colour of life, the colour of hope, is swallowed up by the monster. If your hope was a torch, you’d be grasping onto the embers. (Not your love, too bad, that torch is an eternal flame.)

As for the scoreboard, well. You were ranked first.

—

Someone is knocking at your door.

It doesn’t stop.

Looking around, it was safe to say that you did not want anyone to look at the state of your room. Balls of tissue were strewn all over the floor like it was seashells on the beach, clothes dumped haphazardly into your half-open closet. The air is still because you haven’t opened the window in ages, opting for the air conditioner. Your bed isn’t made, and even though it’s comfortable, it’s suffocating to be in a room this cluttered. The worst area is your desk. Once neat and organised, was now littered with half-finished assignments and sweet wrappers. Your school bag slumped on your chair, notebooks jutting out like bones of disfigured bodies.

A cluttered room for an even more cluttered mind.

Kacchan would be mad.

There are more thumps on the door, and you curl up even further. Maybe if you ignore it, he’d think you weren’t—

“I see the lights on, L/n, please answer me.”

Goddamnit.

The same voice that is bright and light, anchored by concern with everlasting patience. Izuku.

“I was thinking about what we were saying.” He continues like he wasn’t talking to a door. “I want to make you feel part of the class, um. So I was going to invite you to the movie night happening on Friday. We’re gonna be watching Inside Out 2, ‘cause Shoto’s been, um, ecstatic about its release.”

You cover your head with your pillow, groaning. Another movie night? Yeah, no thanks.

“I heard that!” He calls, and you have to fight back a smile.

You’re far too akin to orchids, sensitive to every little action or inaction dealt by the weather. You could be on your deathbed and Izuku would still find a way to make you laugh.

“L/n, please,” There’s a small thunk, and you can imagine Izuku’s head pressed against your door, mind whirling, trying to find the right words to say. “Say something. I’m here, to listen, at least. Not just a training partner. Kacchan, he’s…he’s worried about you. He said that only I can help, but…but I don’t even know how.”

There it is. The shadow of the boy who was just trying to live out his dream, under all the passion, grit and scars was…

Someone uncertain. Someone afraid.

Someone insecure.

You knew it was difficult living up to expectations, because if there’s one thing that this school does right, it was to force its students to rise to the challenges and surpass them, but Izuku always had a nasty case of Imposter Syndrome due to his previous status as a Quirkless person. Paired with Kacchan’s bullying from the past, and Izuku was left second-guessing if he really deserved everything he’s earned by himself.

You look at your ceiling, seeing grey. Everything was, from your clothes to your sheets, the walls you’d strip of pictures because looking at them made you want to rip them up and the tin box that held your Secrets.

Izuku’s silence was like a pressure cooker on its highest setting.

Fuck it.

Stumbling out of bed, you make your way to the door, carefully manoeuvring your way across the room like it was an obstacle course. Yanking the door open, Izuku startles, yanking back with a fierce blush crawling up his face.

“You opened the door.” He says dumbly.

Your future Symbol and Peace, ladies and gentlemen, still a hopeless nerd that is hopelessly awkward in social situations.

Before you could say anything in response, however, Izuku notices your dishevelled appearance. “Are you…okay?”

“Yeah,” it comes out cracked. Clearing your throat, you try again. “Yeah, I’m alright—”

“Your room!” Izuku looks past your shoulder, and you know what he sees. Just like you, just like everything.

It’s a gigantic mess.

“Do you mind?” Izuku taps the door frame, seeking your permission.

Say yes, say yes, if there’s anything you’re good for say yes—

You shake your head.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

Izuku steps inside, and looks at you with an expression you’ve never wanted to burden him with: pure, unfiltered pity.

“We’re cleaning this room.”

Panic erupts in your veins, as you try to stop him, tripping over your feet. “What, no—!”

Izuku takes the remote and switches the A.C. off. “A stifling room means a suffocated mind. Kacchan’s taught me that.” He looks back at you, gentle smile right where it was supposed to be.

“What you need—” He pads over to the windows, unlocks it, and blows them wide open. “Is a breath of fresh air.”

A gust of wind sends your hair billowing behind you, your assignments fluttering around like it was a choreographed dance. You look out the window and startle. Out there, the flora is bursting with colour, the hues of greens, oranges, and blues welcoming you back to the world.

This time, as you respire, you feel like you can actually breathe again.

—

It takes hours before you can finally declare you’re done.

Izuku works with you in tandem, Arranging your assignments as you tackle the laundry, wiping surfaces tops while you change your sheets.

“Hey,” He says, not looking at you. “Does this mean you’re coming for the movie night?”

You pause, pondering.

“Sure.”

Keeping you company, never overstepping boundaries, it’s a wonder that Izuku manages to get you even without his memories. He knows where things go without being told, knows what to touch and things to leave to you to clean.

By the time both of you are done, you’re sweating, cheeks flushed, with one huge garbage bag to bring back out to the dumpster.

All the while, the sun sets, the pretty light streaks through, lathering your once messy room with warmth and bright, orange tones.

It’s beautiful.

“Thank you,” you breathe.

Izuku turns his head, sweating just as hard as you, and pumps his fist. “Well…it’s what we friends do, isn’t it?”

You let out a breathless chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah…that’s…that’s right.” Nodding to the plastic bag, you avoid his gaze. “I should bring that out now, so—”

“I can do it!” Izuku springs to his feet reaching for it.

You’re guilty, and possibly a little embarrassed. He’s already done so much for you, you can afford to take out the trash. “No, I got it—”

As if sensing the tension, the plastic bag slumps down from its spot next to your desk and spews out the rubbish it holds.

The largest item falls out, and Izuku’s eyes are greeted with a watercolour painting of a glade that is grassy and an ageing willow tree, still big and strong. The water is crystal clear, and there’s a picnic mat haphazardly laid next to the tree, but with strangely no people in sight.

Recognition flares up in his eyes. “T-This painting….”

He looks up at you, mouth falling agape as crippling anxiety replaces the soothing calm from before. “K-Kacchan said that the picture was from Auntie,” Izuku said quietly, fumbling with his wallet, shaky scarred hands reaching for it. There it was, your gift to him from last year, right in front of you for the first time since you’d given it away. “I found it weird because she was never the photography kind of person,” He says, comparing the image to your identical painting. “But I didn’t question it.”

You can’t do anything. Everything feels numb. Suddenly, the warm rays washing onto you felt like cruel reminders of your mistake all those years ago. The world’s still turning, but you feel like you’re stuck in time. The world washes back into its shade of grey.

You should have never let him into your room.

“L/n…did you give me this Polaroid?”

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol. 24

Howdy folks!

I love how I said I was never waiting two weeks to do a digest again and then almost immediately did it again. Anyway if you're new here, this is every new (to me) fic I read this week (and last week) and some of my silly little thoughts about them. I have 19 fics for you this week!

As always you can find all of my previous recs here and the original spreadsheet here (now updated with warnings, author summaries, and word counts + I'm checking for broken links).

Recs below the pedro!

Multiples/MMF/MMMF

Euclidean Geometry - Frankie/Jack/Pero one shot by @leslie-lyman

I’d never have thought to put these three together and even if i had, it would have been straight up PWP no feelings. But this is STUNNING. It’s only 1.4k words but there’s such a depth to it. The different dynamics each of the boys and reader brings to the relationship, the way they care for each other AHHH and then the little flash scenes of smut 🥵🥵

The Impaler - Tim Rockford/Max Phillips one shot by @kiwisbell

This is my first Tim Rockford fic EVER and I adored it. I’m a big fan of making Max into a more serious and scary vampire and this was… so fucking hot y’all. (kinda dubcon for Tim bc he seems to be under a bit of a trance). Guys this has like every MMF position you could ever want. DVP… Spitroast… It’s so hot. And reader is so hot. And I’m melting fr.

Joel

Attraction Spell - joel one shot by @jksprincess10

I love a vampire Joel, I really really do. And I love a witchy reader just as much if not more. TW for NonCon bc Joel like… stalks reader and then gets her to basically drug herself with an attraction spell and then he also like.. Is a vampire? So there’s that. I loved this so so much. Joel is hot and scary.

Made by Hand - Joel one shot by @tinycozycomfort

Reader is married and Joel is your lover. He doesn’t really have anything to offer you at all – I mean he can’t give you something that would get you caught and he doesn’t seem to have much to give anyway. But he hand sews you a pair of cuffs made from blue ribbon AHHHHH. This fic is heartbreaking and so beautifully written. Of course the smut is hot, but the peek into Joel’s mind is really what does it for me here. He is so sad. UGHGHGHGHGH. Gimme 800 chapters of this STAT.

Garden of Earthly Delights - Joel one shot by @thesimulationswarm

What’s Gin a slut for? That’s right. Sub!Joel. Reader is a little badass in this and Joel is honestly pathetic and it’s so hot. His general air of violence and like… being a terrifying man are still present, which just makes it better that reader reduces him to a pathetic whimpering mess. Submissive Apple Washing is my favorite tag ever, also. 

Balsam - Joel series by @thesimulationswarm

This one is great if you love characters. The author really takes the time to build up the characters in the town, really situating you in the lives of the people of Jackson. There���s no smut as of yet; this is a slow burn and Nina/Doc (the OC) is really just starting to connect with Joel at this point. I cannot say enough how much I love the worldbuilding in this. I adore the characters and their intricate and detailed relationships and the inner conflicts going on with each of them. This is gorgeous and I’m so excited for the next chapter.

@theywhowriteandknowthings Murder Daddy Kinktober

Neighbor's Gardener's Brother Joel, MDKT Sex Pollen - Joel, MDKT Day 17 - Din

Ok the neighbor’s gardener’s brother Joel is hotter than it has any right to be. He’s filthy, reader is filthy. It’s beautiful. 

The sex pollen fic… man I fucking love sex pollen. And you also get tentacles and mind fuck and all the other delicious monsterfucking things that drive me up a damn wall (dub con obvi…). 

And Day 17 - a bounty who keeps running from Din because she loves to be caught by him. She’s thrilled by the chase so much she…. Oops spoilers… Just read it. It’s being turned into a full series and I cannot wait to read it! 

Din

Good Taste - Din series by @charnelhouse

Pornstar!Din – the crack fic this came from is also great, but I really enjoyed this. Din is so fucking hot and like kind of a dick, which I love very much. I only read the crackfic and the main fic, but there’s a whole list of drabbles that I’m sure I’ll dig into later. 

Ezra

Long Fall into Oblivion - Ezra one shot by @oonajaeadira

As usual, Adira wrote something I love with my whole heart – who’s surprised? Not me. Anyway Ezra is training you to be a prospector and he is absolutely lovely. Reassuring, kind, protective. Adira does non-explicit smut so well she basically invented the concept. 

Shorn - Ezra one shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Ezra really likes your body hair, but it is time for you to shave – I love a fucking weird ass fic and I’m gonna go out on a limb and say erotic shaving is weird. I also don’t normally love shaving scenes in fics/books because there can be an element of shaming the natural body? But this fic does the opposite. It celebrates the natural body through the lens of Ezra and is also just unreasonably fucking hot. I love that weird little man with all my heart. 

Dream Within a Dream - Ezra one shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Incubus!Ezra – so yes, you die, because that’s what incubuses (incubi?) do. They rock your dream world and then they consume you. But listen… Ezra is ethereal and gorgeous, the dream world is absolutely stunning, the smut is hot, and honestly I’d beg him to eat my heart out too. I can’t say enough about this fic actually. I read it this morning and I’m still reeling. 

Javier Peña

you miss me? - Javi P one shot by @amanitacowboy

You tease Javi while he’s at work and he punishes you for it when he gets home… and it is so deliciously good. Dom!Javi has me in a chokehold (or I wish he did). 

The Raid - Javi P one shot by @toxicanonymity

Some dark!Javi from toxic! Your boyfriend or whatever gets his house raided by the DEA and Javi saves you from getting uhhh used… by his coworkers. But then he takes you for himself. Based loosely on her Raider!Joel series. Obviously non/dub con. Javi is so mean and hot pls. 

Pent Up - Javi P one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Javi hurt his ankle (which Ang did as a dig at me because I did the same) and can’t drive, so he hasn’t been able to get any… release… which leads to him jacking off at his desk after hours. It’s so hot. I was like laughing at him up til he actually touches himself and then I about fell over. What I wouldn’t give to be his lil stress reliever. Javi baby I would live under your desk if you asked me to. 

Frankie

You hired a cleaning lady, Mr. Morales? - Frankie one shot by @beskarandblasters

After the events of TF Frankie is in a bit of a depression (understandable), and his house gets more than a little messy. Santi hires a cleaning service (you) to help him out. Listen… I wish I was as bold as reader. After the sexual tension between you and Frankie gets too much to bear, you show up in a god damn sexy maid outfit to torture him into convince him to finally make a move on you. It’s so hot… reader is a sexy bad ass bitch and Frankie is adorable and so hot. 

snowball kiss - Frankie one shot by @beskarandblasters

The discord found this definition on urban dictionary and Kel ran with it. It’s filthy in the best way. Pussy eating king Frankie learned a new trick and honestly it’s devastating me emotionally that I can’t have him

Dieter

Dress me up and call me pretty - Dieter one shot by @morallyinept

Messy Messy Messy Dieter – my favorite type of Dieter. His drug addiction and overall patheticness are in full force here. He wants to make himself look pretty so he uses your makeup. You come home and make sure he feels loved and beautiful, and also ruin his makeup. Pegging/sub dieter/etc but also… this fic is really fucking sweet. It kind of broke my heart despite also being filthy and depraved and I love that in a Dieter fic. I love how reader is like "we'll try again" like??? How dare you make me cry when I'm reading sub!dieter. Dammit. 

-----------

My most recent work is Starving Season - a twisted little Dave York love as consumption three parter that I plan to add a fourth part to soon.

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Happy Reading!

[chenswire]

overdue Episode 11 post

basically the chenswire part of my stupidly long twitter thread covering ep 11 with more delusional thoughts and I ended up TLing their last scene in CN I guess (scroll to bottom) i wish i had the energy to make 1morbillion gifs but i do not so.. Excerpts from my 200 image screenshot folder it is

So the ep starts off with a super pensive Swire which was very cute when will my wife return from the war energy

And then she breaks out into a super un-ladylike run whaddahell!!!! this sequence was sooo well drawn wtf. handsome

(Something here about how people were joking this part is summer chen because they call chummer 水陈 'water chen')

I like how relaxed the atmosphere was like this definitely isn't the first time something like this has happened, well I mean after all they are Professional Co-workers who do not fight 24/7 (they get into an argument immediately after)

When they break eye contact to turn towards Hoshiguma they basically don't meet each other's gazes again as they take turns to glare at each other its insane... Also Swire saying she should take over and Chen needs treatment... Chen you understand what that means right...

Another detail I love is how at the start they already show her battered jacket/clothes for us gamers to point at the screen and then later who those who don't know/didn't notice we have a whole close up of chen reacting to it...man.jpg And swire leaving right away once she knows chen is fine (and one of her good points. lol. lmao) you guys are sure so quick

Link to CN version of the PUUK GAI LUNG in Paci Plaza I love how she's like 'Chen you stay right there' at the end like she's going to idk fly over ASAP to whack her (as opposed to just 'hey, chen!')

Here's a clip of the last scene with CN dub because not only do we get 'ah chen' it just hits so different...

Hi~ Still there, Miss Ah Chen? Ah? What d'you mean by ah, huh? Aren't you a Dai Siu Ze too? Enough of that, don't you have something to tell me? What happened at Paci Plaza… I'll make sure to sort it all out and file for damages later.

Had a feeling they would go with the JP loc's 'aren't you an ojou too' since you know, anime, but keeping the 'ah chen' and that 阿什么阿 response the unparalleled casualness

You… Remember the Cha Chaan Teng at Sheung Wan? Trying to change the subject? The one near the LGD HQ, right? I used to stop by there on my patrols sometimes. Let me treat you to something there next time. Hmm~ If we go there… I want a steak tomato and egg burger! Wait, no! Like hell I'd want you to treat me to a meal!

the longer pause after 'you...' like she was considering something else before she decided to go with her 茶餐厅 MENTION!!!!! gives this a whole different flavour... chen outright offering the meal instead of swire guessing??? THE WARM SMILE CLOSE UP i feel like im intruding on something

Then send your bill to Chief Wei. I'm hanging up. Wait, don't hang up just yet! I heard you ran straight out of Rhodes Island in the end. What are you planning? Weren't you looking for their help? Ugh, stay down! Take a nap over there! You sure sound busy. Guess I should hang up. Tch… I'm not done speaking with you yet. Was leaving the little bunny (and the others) over there weighing on your mind? Well, whatever. (We'll just do this) Just let me help you clean up the mess over here.

It just sounds so much more casual in CN than the JP dub (which is excellent ofc) >let me do it for you instead of 'ill do it' (head in hands)

the opposite lighting and angle and chen looking away vs swire looking straight #KINO

Don't talk like you understand me very well, Miss S. Enough!!! How many times have I told you not to call me that!! Got it, got it.

You don't seem to get it, so I'll be nice today and explain it to you. Life is extremely precious. You're always risking your life chasing what's right in front of you. Stop doing that. Got that? Your advice… I'll take it.

That exasperated 'Enough!!!' i (turns into a plane and flies away) and the last line... it as 'thanks for the advice' which technically isn't wrong but you know the nuance of uh. kind of, almost, somewhat, accepting a... confession... (of her concern ofc) also CN chen lets swire finish speaking instead of interrupting which hehe... like i said..the flavour hits different. also that subtle movement as chen like eases in more and more between those lines aaaghhhhhhhhhh

their earlier argument was so explosive and quick, but now their banter is so tender and slow like bruh. what. even the act of chen putting down her sword to sit down in a comfortable position (loved that she sat like that One leg sitters rise up!!!) was so ??? the normally yolo speedrunner chen being so leisurely like damn. ok. ok. From 'you think you can order me around' to basically agreeing to an order (Londinium cannon vine boom) I thought Chen being this warm was more or less a delusion that I inferred through in game as subtext (since in game her expression then is usually like her default rbf face...) and seeing it here as 'text' in the show is like 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯 holy shit can't believe i got FED after four years incidentally i've been obsessed with a certain CN writer's fics lately because the way they write chen like a sad wet dog while showing warmth is crazyyy maybe i will blog about it next time because i was legit taking notes lmao

[destiel-wings]

Did I miss Misha originally say Cas’s confession was platonic?

I don't think Misha ever said that. For as much as i know he was on the main team with Bobo Berens to actively fight to have the confession happen, so he definitely never thought it was platonic. He's always been quite vocal about how non platonic it was actually, like when in Italy the "I love you" was dubbed with the platonic version of it, "ti voglio bene" (instead of "ti amo", which is the romantic equivalent) he posted a video to criticize that embarrassing decision.

I think there's been a moment, right after the first spn conventions after the finale, when the first fan questions about the confession happened and extremely embarrassing replies were given by certain actors (I'm talking about the infamous reply that Jared gave to a fan asking about it), Misha got really upset (not at Jared, i mean, in general, because apparently even after the confession canonically happened IN THE SHOW, they still weren't allowed to talk about it, or about destiel as an actual thing), and so he may have been quite frustrated for a while, not expressing himself quite as strongly ad he did at first.

But I'm seeing the latest few cons that happened, mainly the latest two jibs, and all the amazing jenmish content we got in their panels together, and how slightly easier it's become for them to talk about it... i mean Jensen and Misha wrote a destiel song on the spot a week ago at the jib11, and Jensen said he would love to see the confession being adressed "maybe we will get to see that soon" and I'm being more hopeful.

And so Misha has been quite more at ease bringing it up again too, like this is another reply he gave last week at jib11:

The thing about destiel is, I think the people in power never wanted it to happen because they thought they would lose viewers and thus, money, tainting the franchise. I think most of the writers tried to slip it in anyway, through the subtext, and they were always allowed it to a certain extent because it worked, and it placed the show in a certain limbo where destiel was basically Schrodinger's cat. It was there and wasn't at the same time. The confession was fought for and i think the peole who cared about it did whatever they could, but still, they couldn't get a complete win since the ones in charge still refused to let Dean reciprocate. So that must've been extremely frustrating for Misha too, because he's one of the ones that really cared for it, and understood just how meaningful it was to many people, and the power it had, and it might have had if brough to completion.

I think Jensen went on board too, somewhere along the way, and he changed his mind for the better. Like, i still think that to him, Dean is probably straight, but he's been way more open recently (ever since the confession, and probably during season 15 too, since the moment he knew the story was going to lead there) and probably after seeing the impact it had, the fandom's reaction to it and the finale, he probably understood just how much it would mean to so many people. So even though he may definitely have a preference for Dean being straight IF THE NETWORK ALLOWED IT i really don't think he would be against a canonically bi Dean. Not anymore. I think he might actually go for it. For the fans.

And i think he's had talks with Misha about it.

But what i mostly mean when I say "it's become slightly easier for them to talk about it" is they have more room to do it, because either their NDAs are about to expire or Jensen buying the rights to the story gives him more power to disclose things and talk more freely. Please take all these words with a grain of salt because i don't work in the industry and these are just my personal speculations, but i think the main problem and cause of frustration with talking about destiel publicly for any of the actors has always been contractual. The show didn't officially take a position (denying Dean the reciprocation) and so all the public statements and opinions of the actors needed to contractually adhere to the "company line" (which i think may *only partially* explain Jared's infamous rant, as a horrendously clumsy attempt to avoid confirmation of destiel - note that I'm not justifying it).

Of course, the enraging thing is that while Dean's reciprocation is canonically up to discussion and subject to interpretation, Castiel's is not. So Misha has always been one of the few to be freer to talk about that specific moment, because Castiel's journey took a clearer stand.

But even that has been buried or blurred down to "interpretation" very often by others, taking another time a huge step back, to favor the colossal hiding of destiel and not risk a blatant confirmation from the show, officially, on both sides. So if Misha ever said anything about it being platonic (which i don't think he did), he was probably just ranting it out in extreme frustration or reciting it as a company line to survive from the snipers of the CW (just as the rest of the actors).

***

That's how i see it anyway. Sorry i went a little overboard with my reply, and brought up Jensen in the discourse too, but hopefully that answers it! :)

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Yan parent Apocalypse??? Woah

Maybe the reader has a reincarnation sort of power and turns out to be his child during the Egyptian era?

(the X-Men evolution version, but now that I think about it he doesn't get much character depth to him)

Oh heavens, I almost forgot he was a possible option- But, to be honest, yes, I can do that. Let's do this for you, Apocalypse Anon:

You had always had a... unique... power.

One that earned you quite the reputation.

You were a mutant who could reincarnate.

That meant you could live forever, basically, as when one life died, you'd pass to another, and the cycle repeated, unbreaking, unending, since as far back as you can remember. That being said...

You were afraid of your past.

Namely, your father, once a Pharoah, who wanted to remake the world in his image... En Sabah Nur, or what he would later be called, Apocalypse.

You did everything in your power in each life to ensure he never broke out of his eternal imprisonment. If he were to break free all H*ll would break loose. He was nearly all-powerful, a fighter, someone who waged wars and won then, not backing down and never giving in.

You were possibly the one sentient being he cared about. You were his child, after all.

His one heir, named a god in their own right...

And now all your hard work to ensure he never escaped had been destroyed. Crushed. Obliterated. All because some shape-shifting, mind-controller, and some poor teen with... a LOT of powers? broke in and broke the last seal on your father's tomb.

The moment he's released, you can see him drawing the powers from the poor girl, and the statue of the shapeshifter, nothing but a stone husk of her former glory.

"That's enough, En Sabah Nur! Release her!" you scream, charging into the fray. Yet you don't don't make it far enough to land a blow as Apocalypse uses his new abilities to toss you aside.

"That is enough, pest," he intones, then turns, starting to leave the rocky chamber. You can hear others approaching, a smaller mutant running past as he goes to check on the fallen teenager. To stop any further damage, you play your last card:

"Father! It's me! Your Lotus of the Nile, your Heir! Remember? You once saw one floating into the royal pools, upon which a bee landed, taking from it its nectar. You dubbed me your lotus, your nectar of the flower, the honey of the gods," you cry out carefully, voice echoing in the chamber. You watch warily as the mutant freezes, turning to face you. His eyes are hard to read, cold and calculating... After a small eternity, he finally speaks...

"Child... It has been too long... It seems I'm not alone," he says, then waves his hand. In a flash your pulled forward, forced along as he ascends into the upper chambers. "We have much to do, my dear lotus... Now, it is time to remake the world as it should have been."

You glance back, sighing quietly with relief. At least the other two were spared for now. You mouth to them a message:

"I'll help you. Eyes on the inside."

And then you and your father are brought into a battle, facing off against the mutants who've come to stop him, and all you can do is pray they believe you, trust you enough to supply them help from the inside of Apocalypse's schemes. If you survive his 'love' long enough...

[lordstormageddidnt]

@cha0ticlesbian had this question on my last post:

Hi! Genuine question, I’m new to supernatural (I’m on season 4) and I can definitely see what people mean about dean and cas and obviously I know about the confession scene but I’m confused if it’s true that deans feeling are “up to interruption” or if he just doesn’t like him back? Also I’ve seen some people saying he’s like homophobic? Ive just really confused and dean is my favorite so I wanna know lol

So let's talk about that. Are Dean's feelings up to interpretation?

Simply put, yes.

Basically, in s15e18 "Despair", when Cas is giving his whole "I love you" speech, Dean doesn't say very much. At random intervals, he gives NPC-type comments* like "Why does this sound like a goodbye?" and "Don't do this, Cas". He does not ever say "I love you too" (unless you're watching the Spanish dubbed version, where he says exactly that).

On the surface, I know my friends (who only get their spn info from me holding them hostage in my discord server), took issue with the line "don't do this". They kind of read it as Dean not respecting Cas in Cas's final moments-- in their eyes, Dean didnt want Cas to confess because he's uncomfortable with Cas's feelings. But the speech isn't about Dean-- it's about Cas giving himself permission to be happy.

That line of thinking plus the past allegations of Jensen Ackles being homophobic is usually where people get the idea that Dean is homophobic. From what I can see, the "Dean is homophobic" is mostly part of the meme of the scene in general, and not something most people actually believe, but some people do genuinely believe he is homophobic. This belief is also supported by Dean's hypermasculine personality in general and the comments he makes; we never once see him outwardly homophobic to any of the openly queer SPN characters, but especially in earlier seasons, he makes jokes (like Sam being a girl because he has long hair) that you would expect someone homophobic to say.

I do think homophobic Dean a valid interpretation, but the logic kind of ignores some of the context of the scene.

For one, there's a moment after the confession where Dean gets a call from "Cas" (it's Lucifer) telling him that Cas is outside the Bunker and needs to be let out. Dean breaks into a sprint to get to the door, and I think this action speaks louder than words (or, lack thereof). Whether or not Dean reciprocates, he cares about Cas as a friend and he wants Cas to be alive again.

For two, when it comes to "don't do this", the more common interpretation is that Dean doesn't want Cas to sacrifice himself. Again, Cas starts the speech by explaning that he will die during his happiest moment, and then transitions into saying that confessing his love to Dean is his happiest moment. Dean doesn't want Castiel to defeat Billie by sacrificing himself.

As a destiel shipper, my interpretation of this scene is a slight variation of the previous one. In my general view of SPN, Dean has known he's in love with Cas since at least s11, and he's known Cas has loved him back for a while, but he's just never felt like it was the right time to start a relationship (constant apocalypses and everything) and he's worried that he'll screw it up. In my head, when he says "don't do this", it means more like "don't do this [love confession like this]". Like, Dean doesn't want their first ILYs* to be marred by the fact that Cas is sacrificing himself.

So, last question-- how do people read the scene as Dean liking Cas back when he never verbally reciprocates?

Some people see Dean's silence as him either not liking Cas back or not realizing he likes Cas back yet, but there's another option here. The reason Cas is dying is because he believes this is his happiest moment. His speech outright states that he believes Dean does not love him back ("the one thing I want is the thing I cannot have"). It's totally possible that Dean reciprocates, but in his mind, saying that really would trigger Cas's happiest moment. There are some great fix-it fics built on the premise of "Dean insults the sht outta Cas to spoil Cas's happiest moment and stop him from being taken by the Empty".

* okay last point. I wasn't sure where to insert this but I think it's insanely interesting. The scene in s15e18 is not actually the first time Cas tells Dean he loves him. In s12, there is an episode where Cas believes he is dying, and he says the line "I love you. I love all of you" to the small crowd of Dean, Sam, and Mary. NPC behavior from Dean ensues as he insists Cas isn't going to die without ever acknowledging the "I love you". The common interpretation is that the first ILY is for Dean, and the second ILY is Cas speaking to the Winchesters as a whole. Do with that as you will lol

Anyway, that's all I got :D thank you for the opportunity to rant about supernatural and feel free to ask me if you have any other questions!

[proshippers-against-censorship]

I hate the assumption that being into "problematic" content inherently involves something about children/minors in at least some kind of way. Basically all I see is arguments how proshipping is bad because of pedophilia and incest.

Ok, but, like, no? Actually ever since joining an 18+ shipping server, I've noticed how much of the content, especially in separately dedicated dark content channels, icks me and I cannot continue reading the conversation. But I still don't harass anyone about it. No, not even when I click on a fic out of curiosity and it ends up making me want to take my eyes out.

I don't want anything about kids or family members in my smut. I only really care for non-con/dub-con, violence and abusive/power imbalanced or yandere relationships (with adults). I'm not interested in experiencing anything like that irl, from neither side, I only like it because it's fiction. The characters I have in mind right now in this particular ship are also both serial killers, btw. Somehow that doesn't seem to be a problem for the majority of people though, because we all know all that "video games cause violence" is nothing but bs.

Or someone could genuinely only read fics about the most wholesome, non-toxic characters in fluffy relationships where they genuinely love each other, and they could still be a proshipper. Because being proship has nothing to do with your own personal preferences, it's a moral stance, not a short way of saying you have socially unacceptable kinks

Yeah. I have it written in SO MANY PLACES on my account that I do not consume incest content (though some of these antis have me tempted to spite ship), and that I don't consume any content with explicitly underage characters...though I do like stuff with babyface femmes because it gives me a bit more body confidence. Its just not my vibe. So its really weird to be accused of being a pedo when I don't want anything to do with kids, whether real or fictional.

But yeah, no, the only servers I've seen, including nsfw and 18+ servers, have been fully separated out. Because part of being respectful is understanding that not everyone wants to see your dick when they open up the channel to talk about hot pockets. And you'd think the folks who don't want to see those things would...just mute/block/ignore those channels instead of commenting like, 'put your tits away' on the nudes channel and shit like that. Those are incredibly light examples, but yeah...if it isn't your favor just walk away? Don't know why that's that hard?

"Ohohhohoho but this dark porn is going to make them want to SA some gal on the streets" You play CoD. Do you want to headshot your neighbor?

You're 100% right, anon. Sorry it took me a long ramble to get to this point, I'm a rambly and kinda nonsensical person, yikes. But yeah, proship is 100% a moral stance. What you personally consume and write doesn't matter. What makes you proship is minding your own business and curating your own online experience instead of expecting the world to cater to you.

[darkwingphoenix]

@loominggaia Lore Bite: Celestial Blade

So, I've mentioned before Skylie has a blade specially forged for her by Saraia when she used Mankind's Disgrace cult mask with some sanded off material from the Divine Executioner, to make a sword capable of killing divines like the Executioner.

Well, here's some trivia/Small lore about it! (Spoilers eventually)

First off, this is sorta what it looks like:

The hilt:

Grip Pattern (On the handle):

Pommel (Thingy on the bottom):

(Important it's a snow globe look)

Blade (Note this is how it looks in full, with the above parts):

Also, it looks like really pale gold, and actually glows with a brightness similar to a torch when activated by magic.

Also, it's easily resizable by Skylie, from a zweihander

To basically a balisong (Butterfly Knife)

And yes, in balisong size Skylie can do unfolding tricks.

And a major thing about Celestial Blade (Like Divine Executioner, it needs no the to introduce it, as it demands respect) is that, unlike its parent weapon, it doesn't just kill people and stops divine resurrections: It steals their souls. This is because Saraia accidentally invoked the celestial Sword, who decided to bless Celestial Blade, dropping it in via Saraia's sweat.

This blessing granted Celestial Blade its resize ability, its ability to soul steal, and its 100% loyalty to Skylie, to the point it can't kill divines via soul snatching unless Skylie wants to kill someone. It's so loyal it can dull itself if Skylie has no intent of actual harm. It'll even return to Skylie as she wills, and will dull itself if not in her hands. It also has free-floating abilities, were if it would fall off an edge or is placed vertically, it just floats there, menacingly.

Also, yes, Celestial Blade is sentient, but not super sentient. Basically, the blade is dimly aware it's a sword meant for Skylie, and allows Skylie to commune with Sword slightly more efficiently, but ultimately just has a conscious mind only bright enough to activate its abilities.

The souls it steals get dumped into its pommel (The snow globe), which is indestructible like the rest of the blade and about an inch across in one-handed blade form. The souls eventually form an actual world contained in Celestial Blade, which Skylie can view by looking into the pommel. These souls eventually form the ability to grant Celestial Blade access to 7 forms: Flaming, ice aura, plant aura, electric, water aura, wind aura, and earth aura. These actually kick in right as Skylie loses access to the 7 rulers she made into ghosts by accidentally trapping them into 7 chess piece artifacts she was making for a kid of hers about to become the ruler of Damiscend, aka the Gnoses.

The soul contributions allow Skylie to continue using the abilities the rulers granted her even if they're trapped in the Gnoses with no way to communicate with anyone on the outside.

Also, small bit of lore about Genshin Impact: It's been heavily implied that Teyvat's sky is fake.

And, yes, I did fuse the lore with how Skylie's making it real in Gaia to make Skylie have made the actual Teyvat in her sword. After she realizes this, she makes 7 lucky goofballs the Archons in Celestial Blade. They helped ramp up CB's powers while allowing her to keep tabs on the world in the pommel (She dubbed it Teyvat) via telepathically observing their memories and senses.

Also, in Genshin's recent storyline, Mavuika punches a hole in the sky. This actually appeared as a puncture in the globe, which Skylie set out to repair so as to not risk any leaks in either direction.

Celestial Blade eventually becomes powerful enough via souls dumped into its pommel it gains the ability to become a human construct centered around the blade. It first did this about a century after the GGW, and Skylie found it as a newborn baby human girl, which she felt responsible for and called Celestia. When Celestia went to sleep, she morphed back into Celestial Blade, which Skylie started calling Celestia.

Celestia started to transform into her construct form every day for a few hours, during which Skylie would tend to her like her other kids before transforming back. She grew like normal, and after 18 years finally gained the ability to transform at will, staying in construct form for however long she liked but transforming into sword form when Skylie needed her.

Celestia remained 100% bound to Skylie, with Saraia finding out Celestia was basically feeding on Skylie's soul, which would be an issue if Skylie wasn't a divine, especially if Celestia didn't have as many souls as she did at that point. This shows in that if Skylie gets killed, Celestia transforms back into her blade form and can't turn back until Skylie gets her in her hand again. She simply runs around with Skylie and turns into her sword when needed.

Skylie made a new sword that worked like Celestia, but had no return/float feature, no soul stealing, and no self-dulling, but could still use the 7 elements Celestia could and can still resize.

Eventually, Celestia learns she can steal souls herself and use her sword elements as magic, and Skylie fully stops using Celestia's blade form and uses the cheap knockoff she made, Celestia joining the merry band of idiots of Saraia, Skylie, Darshaan, Vex, Isaac, who's a divine in this AU by way of Weird Soul Glitches, Saheli (Amber's baby sis, who's blind and has the coloration of a koi), Collei and Columbina.

Essentially, Isaac, with Karenza's soul, wound up keeping Karenza's soul while Karenza got his soul (For being a Good Little Monster during Project Starblast and the Ascendance later on), and due to the equivalent of a weird targeting glitch due to Karenza's soul being in the wrong body, his soul became divine in Karenza's body, allowing her to feel emotion without leeching off of Isaac's (Isn't that how that works? IDK), but her actual soul (Stuck in Isaac) became permanently glued to him, making Isaac a divine.

After everyone figures this out, Isaac decides to leave the Hollow and join his dad, Saraia making him a monstrous version of Shadow using a few feathers of hers and some random bits and bobs, which Isaac calls Twilight. Twilight looks exactly like Shadow fused with a Microraptor the size of a house, and is a Chess Egg Saraian.

This is Twilight in a quick image (Add a touch of roc features tho):

These fools eventually decide to totally leave Damiscend behind and become complete adventurers (Tho Skylie leaves the House of the Hearth in the care of an elven descendant of Jeimos and Linde, who swears an oath to care for the Hearth kiddos and not abuse them, and who does the same to their kids, making an order of people essentially dedicated to looking after a million divine kids, including new kids Skylie drops off).

The group basically travels around Gaia doing the good fight for freedom and equality. They still visit Damiscend frequently, Skylie using the time to check on her babs in the House of the Hearth with Celestia, who grew up as a Hearth kid.

The House of the Hearth eventually turns into a training ground for a secret police force for Damiscend, though only the non-divine kids and the divines who are adults can join the Harbingers (The same group Pierre founded with Marine's kids and his daughter, shifted to Damiscend with Columbina and Signora).

Also, Skylie noticed that Saheli, Collei, and Columbina were all... Not aging after certain points (Columbina's frozen at 24, Collei's stuck at 16-ish, and Saheli's at 32), and decides to invite with her group, becoming part of the Merry Band of Idiots.

Yes, It's Really Called That is their motto. And yes, it's really called that, Darshaan and Skylie thought of the name and motto one night as they were heading out for the adventuring life with Isaac and Columbina on the team to pick up Collei and Saheli from Cobalt's place.

[mytragedyperson]

Hi! You're the first person that I found that have Number24 as one of their fav anime, so excited! Yes, I love Natsusa, too. See, I never ship anyone poly before (like for me, each character have their own otp) but with Natsusa, I ship him with both Ibuki & Seeichirou (2 ships different flavour).

Also, yes LawLight (my all time fav ship ever). Can I ask, do you ship Mello/Near, too?

For Karma and Kagami, I ship them a bit differently (sorry), Karma/Nagisa and Kagami/Kuro are my otps.

But, I'm so excited to see other shipper with different ships! Do you mind if you have free time, I asked of your fav ships?

Yes, Dazai/Akutagawa is not common but so interesting. Like, I also ship Dazai with Atsushi.

I ship soukoku & shin soukoku, but other ships are also interesting....

For Dazai, I think he is an amazing characters who we love and can ship with mostly anyone, right?

Hi! Thank you so much for your ask. First, please excuse any misspellings or anything, I'm writing this on my phone and, even if I wasn't I low-key suck at typing. Also ran out of tag space so there is that.

Also yes, I love Number24. I love the animation style, I love Natsusa, I love Ibuki and Seiichirou, honestly I love all the characters. But I will say, as much as I love Ibuki x Natsusa (one of my favourite ships) Ibuki and Ethan are basically canonically married in the English dub. Seiichirpu, on the other hand, seems to love Natsusa only. Love both ships. Honestly I probably should've had them both in the same spot on my ship list. But on the day Ibuki was more appealing. I ship both about equally.

I don't really ship Mello/Near but that's more because I don't know them. When u watched Death Note, it was when it was on Netfliz and they took it off before I could finish it, but I do have Crunchyroll now, so I will probably finish it and that answer may change. But, even if I don't like it, I doubt I'd be like 'ew, no.' There's very few ships I'm against. As long as its fiction, we're cool.

As for Karma and Kagami, absolutely. I do like those ships too, they're just not my favourite. But in the case of the Kagami bit I kinda see Kagami/Kuroko/Aomine/possibly Kise as a polycule. (Possibly Kise because I also ship him with Kasamatsu.) But yeah, totally get where you're coming from. I honestly think it depends if you prefer friends to lovers or rivals to lovers and for me I do lean more towards rivals to lovers. Also no need to apologise. Ship whatever you want. We don't have to agree. As long as you're having fun with it, that's what matters. Fandom is supposed to be fun and enjoyable.

Absolutely agree with Dazai being shippable with so many people. Chuuya, kunikida, Sigma, Fyodor I've seen, Atsushi, Aktugawa. I recently saw someone mention Oda/Dazai. He really is just the character you ship with everyone because he can barely go a scene without flirting with someone. I'm sorry, you're dying and are against the clock and you're going to take the time to dance with a stranger you just met? What a power move honestly. Good for him.

Regarding favourite ships, do you mean ones I didn't mention? Or for specific shows? Happy to answer, just without clarification I will probably just repeat what I said before in a slightly different way.

Thank you again for the ask. If you want to send me asks for headcanons, snippets, drabbles or just questions like this, please feel free to ask. Hell I'm bored, ask me whatever as long as its fandom related or fiction related. To see what fandoms I write for, check my pinned post. I will probably add to it in the future as I think of things I liked and would be happy to write for. But it is for practice purposes.