#cackling like a mad bastard

[yeenybeanies]

-Sudden image of winged!Soap roosting on giant!Ghost’s head pops in mind.- . . . -Laughs hysterically.- Why do I get the feeling that giant!Ghost would get annoyed and try to shoo him away, but at the same time would allow it because birds have hollow bones and he doesn’t want to hurt (any variation of) Soap. I don’t know though, what do you think?? (Your work and art is extraordinary!! Keep it up, don’t stress, and take your time.) ‘xD

oooOOOOO WINGED AU + GIANT AU!! anon your brain is huge

this is fun too because winged!soap Looks a lot bigger than he actually is, with a wingspan that is almost twice giant!ghost’s height. he could sit on ghost’s shoulder & touch the ground with his wingtips.

BUT MOREOVER to the scenario you have given me: i feel like giant!ghost would probably be Less careful with winged!soap! since soap can fly, there’s no real danger to dropping him or shoving him off or throwing him. & yes, soap would absolutely perch on ghost at any given opportunity. don’t think ghost would mind it much, either. might get a little annoyed at first, bark at soap to get the fuck off, push him off, etc.; but when soap keeps coming back, ghost just accepts his fate.

but if anyone else tries to perch on him, he’ll get annoyed. & soap will get annoyed too. sorry, this big, skull-wearing bastard is his perch & his alone.

[demonbanger]

𝔇𝔬𝔫’𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔢𝔱 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 ℑ’𝔪 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 |

ft. sex demon ! 𝗘𝗨𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗦 𝗞𝗜𝗗 | 🌶 🔞 MDI

“𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣’𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙩, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙮 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡.” — E. Kid, to you

synopsis: on a lonely night you decide to get a bit buzzed and think, fuck it, why not try to summon a sex demon? Turns out to be either the biggest blessing, or biggest mistake you’ve made in a while.

♫: click for inspo song

pairing: Incubus! Kid x Fem! Reader (no physical description of reader, except hair that can be pulled)

cw: *inhales* demon summoning, bully Eustass, brat taming, blood + pain play, cunnilingus, drinking mention, predator x prey, breeding, dacryphilia, dumbification, belly bulge, overstimulation, praise + degradation, size kink af with our 6’7 king, use of pet names, insane stamina, gets softer at the end

tags: @goshitshardtohaveagoodname @nikos-a-clown @pinkcrystal-rose

© Writing & Imagery in this is my intellectual property. Do not plagiarize or repost to other platforms without my permission. Love, DemonBanger

______

You stuff your fingers in your dribbling pussy, but just could not get yourself full enough. You felt like such a horny bastard tonight, with so much sexual desperation, and finally decided you wanted to start masturbating again. But nothing worked like when you first started; you’ve just been single for too long and miss the feeling of real cock.

Even a dildo couldn’t do the trick anymore. You needed the real thing, with pumping veins and harsh thrusts, attached to a heavy man that pressed you into the mattress, with low grunts and dirty words moaned lowly into your ear.

You sigh in frustration and set the toys down, taking a swig out of some whiskey to let it take over more of your senses. The liquor burns so beautifully going down your throat…too bad there wasn’t another hot liquid also sinking down your oral cavity.

The familiar floaty headspace seeps in like an old friend that you keep away at arm’s length, as your heartbeat drums in your warm chest. Buzzed you feels like a dragon waking from a slumber, with old runes in the form of dumb ideas filling your brain.

“Might as well fucking summon a sex demon at this point,” you mutter. The idea rolls over in your head for a few minutes, and the curiosity of trying something crazy and reckless like this gets more and more appealing to your buzzed brain, until eventually you think: Wait. Fuck it, what if I tried it at least? You laugh to yourself.

What would you have to lose anyways? Just your soul? You don’t even feel like you have one these days until you drink good old caffeine.

You tap the safari icon on your phone, to research how one would even go about summoning an incubus, and take another swig to invite the madness more.

A few forums say the same thing. People asking if you actually want to invite such a thing into your life, some dude talking about how his wife cheated on him with one of those entities and was never the same after that. Hahah…cuck.

You scoff. You have existential crises every day, no sex demon can fuck your life up like you feel you can. Demons, where you at? It’s ya boi. You think about the meme and cackle way too hard for something so unfunny and possibly life-threatening.

Then you scroll over a comment that is long with a lot of upvotes on it. It looks serious. Seems legitimate. There are no comments underneath, but it reads like a serious spell book.

Eh, why not? You laugh again. The comment warned against masturbating beforehand to make sure your sexual energy was at its peak to really invite any sexual spirits. Welp, already fucked that up, so if this doesn’t work at least you could have something fun to do and then tire yourself out and call it a night.

Then you read how it involves extracting blood from a few…sources such as the tongue and pussy and you wonder if there’s a better way. A paper cut on any of those things sounds gross. Eek.

You look over YouTube and find the first video that pops up. The speaker sounds experienced, and says that it’s much simpler than any methods. Just make a request to the demon Asmodeus by reaching a meditative state, and adamantly focusing on his name.

Simple enough. You try and make sure your room is a little tidy, burn a couple of cutesy candles, and dress in a black spiked collar and a cute, lacey red lingerie set you got yourself a little while back. Scarlet garters hold up soft thigh highs that bring out your thighs and make your lower body look extra luscious. You take in this moment of feminine confidence. What are you? You’re a bad bitch. And what are you about do? Get fucked.

You sit prettily on your bed, take another swig of the burning drink, shake your hips in excitement, close your eyes, and make the signature meditation pose. You even put the sigil of Asmodeus on your laptop to better reach him. Look at you, doing the most. Then, you bite your lip in concentration and your buzzed brain is slow enough to focus on one thing slowly.

Asmodeus. Asmodeus. Asmodeus, are you with me? You think with intention.

Just as you thought. No answer. You continue.

Asmodeus, I know I never spoke to you in my life. I’m Y/n, I know this is silly but I don’t mind giving up some of my energy to get fucked voraciously by a demon boy. An incubus please. Is that ok?

You wait for an answer, peep at the candles. They’re just flickering normally. You try not to psych yourself into micro analyzing the movement of the little flames. Drunk you could do that all night. But you need to keep focused. Then you continue.

Hopefully it is ok, Mr. Asmodeus. I don’t know if I need to give up my blood n shit. I’m just a little drunk girl and honestly I’ve given up so much life energy to toxic exes at this point, you don’t need to warn me,, I know I’m rambling, but uh, yeah. I don’t give a fuck. But also, respectfully, make sure he wants me too. That shit’s hot. Do you even hear me at this point?

A chill up your spine stops you from thinking further. It’s such a chill that you shiver. It’s the same sensation in your nerves that you’d feel if someone ran a finger along your entire sensitive spine. Your window isn’t open.

There’s no way.

Good talk, you think. Don’t know what the fuck that was.

You sigh, keeping yourself open for answers. Maybe he’s thinking? Who knows. For a second you almost feel a little silly for getting all dressed and stuff.

Then you feel a chill up your spine, only more intense. Your hairs stand on end. It’s kind of spooky. You’re drunk though so you’re in more of a relaxed, “oh no!!! anyways” sort of mindset. But none of your windows are open and you haven’t turned on the AC all day.

You take another swig out of the bottle and your face burns. You’re sure your eyes are a bit bloodshot, face flushed. You think about what a male demon would say if he saw you. Probably something like—Put the bottle down, sweetheart.

You cackle in your mind. Sorry about that, daddy, gotta have fun.

Keep calling me that, I like it, the thought says a bit louder in your mind, purring more sexily than you’ve ever imagined a man sounding. Wait, did you make that up or are you tripping?

Dumbass.

You open your eyes again. So that was your imagination…or was it? There’s a little bit of doubt in your mind. Either way your imagination is vivid and you crack yourself up.

Damn it, you play too much, now your drunk ass can’t even tell what’s someone telepathically communicating to you and what’s you imagining someone telepathically communicating to you.

You clear your throat a little.

“Oi, am I wasting my time? Am I making this up? Give me a sign or show yourself , but don’t like scare me, or else I’m just going to sleep.” You try to speak clearly and confidently.

Your head whips around to the wall at something suddenly in your peripheral, and you notice a little area starts to glow, brighter and brighter. It’s a sigil. The same one you put on your computer moments ago. It’s very slow. Your heart feels like it’s in your fucking throat as you blink extra hard. Nope, still there. Holy fuck??

You swallow, slightly nervous besides your sense of fear being dulled down.

A gasp leaves your throat at a sudden tapping noise coming straight from the sigil. A fist punches through your wall, except not actually punching through its material. The glowing sigl must be some sort of portal. You let out a shocked squeal as the fist shakes around the air of your room. The clawed hand opens and the body attached steps out.

“The fuck was that?”

Oh lord. He’s huge. And above all else, irresistibly sexy.

The demon stands before you, towering over most of your room proudly, a wild crown of red hot hair adorning his head. The candlelight flickers wildly as he looks directly at you. His handsome features complete with sharp eyes like glowing amber surrounded by darkness, almost dragon-like. Is that…lipstick? And guyliner. Another shiver runs through you at how attracted you are to this creature from hell. You must’ve made Asmodeus laugh and scored the jackpot in return. That sharp nose.. with the pretty bumps on the side…you wonder how it would feel riding it.

He’s wearing a coat trimmed with maroon fur, that still leaves little to the imagination as his entire muscular, giant torso is bare with a sheen that accentuates carved abs, perhaps sweat because hell is hot. Black pants with chains hang low on his hips. You don’t see visible wings but are sure he can make them appear if he wanted.

Just, holy shit.

Dark maroon lips smirk. His voice is raspy, a little tired, a little indifferent, but the look in his eyes says otherwise. “So…you gonna just keep staring at me all night and get off that way, or?”

You bite your lip. He’s so fucking smug. Your pussy starts pooling more wetness than already built up.

“I-well, yeah, you just appeared through my fucking wall,” you roll your eyes, not submitting so easily. “The hell did you expect?”

The demon flashes a mouth full of beautiful, dangerous teeth.

“Pretty little minx, and a smart mouth on ya too. I guess he was right it’d be worth bothering the admiral of the legions, can’t wait to fuck the brattiness out of you.”

Black, ornate trousers that appear punk and shredded to bits sway as he steps closer to your bed.

“Oh, Careful—” you warn but one of his beautiful, tall, twisty horns hits your ceiling fan, and you find it comical how a 7 foot tall demon is cursing at hitting his left horn in your room.

His eyes squint at you. “Fucking brat. Laughing at me, not even telling me your name. I could drag a rude little mortal like you to hell and eat you alive for lack of manners,” he drawls, little to no venom in his words, his voice so deep and rich you almost get lost in it for a moment. Little does he know you want him to eat you alive.

“Oh—, I mean you’re right, sorry sir,” you spit out the sorry as sarcastically as possible, “I’m Y/n, what’s your name?”

He eyes your thighs clenching together and a mocking chuckle bubbles in his chest. “Name’s Kid. But you, little thing, can call me Eustass for tonight when I’m impaling you on my cock.”

A little whimper is forced out of you at how dirtily he spoke, like he made an incantation to turn you on instantly. “Eustass,” you try out, making precum drip out of him more than he’d like to admit. Your eyes flit down to his cock that he mentioned, then back up. He knows you were staring. And he’s so damn smug about it too, because the big guy’s bulge looks absolutely huge.

He looks over at the toys on your bed and scoffs, picking up your dildo, and eyeing it snarkily. Your face burns in indignation at his wolfish, leering smirk.

“Oh princess. Might as well throw these—“ he locates your trash bin, “right here. Because I’m gonna fucking ruin them for you. And you can kiss any man’s dick goodbye.” He drops your sex toys into the trash like a mic drop.

And you’re not even mad. Your thighs shift against the fabric of your bodysuit to gain any sort of friction, so turned on from imagining what’s to come.

“Yeah? You like that? I can just smell how much that turned you on. Such a pathetic, needy, desperate slut. You in heat or something?”

You can only nod your head.

He makes his way back to the bed, walking like he has all the time in the world, and you eye him for how beautiful and dangerous he is, oozing sex appeal. He also eyes you hungrily, like a starved carnivore eyeing its new living meal. Heat from hell radiates off of him, and he smells otherworldly; almost sweet; with notes of pure musk, steel, blood, leather, sweat, and desire.

(You don’t know that the pheromones you’re releasing have a similar effect on him, but he wants to make you beg and whimper; mewl, cry, break).

You take in shaky breaths, not because those fangs could rip chunks out of you if he wanted to…well, that’s hot too.

Kid grabs your bottle of whiskey from your mattress, eyeing you with pure hunger as he gets so close to you, and sets it on the floor. “That’s gonna break if it stays on your bed.” He dips his head closer to you, inhales again to smell your arousal, and his eyes roll shut.

“A-are we gonna have a safeword? I’m not paying any hospital bills if you break my body,” you finally speak up, voice pitch heightened from horniness.

He scoffs. “How fucking adorable, such a needy stupid baby, you didn’t even think before making a contract with someone who could do whatever he wants with you no?” the redhead strokes your thigh as he sounds so mean and condescending, large clawed hand gripping your upper leg, squeezing your supple flesh. His breathing is heavy. Fiery eyes peer down into your soul as he pauses.

“Spikes.” He feels your collar, humming in approval. “But just know, you signed up to be fucked. And drained.” His blackened thumb traces over your bottom lip as he holds your chin. “If you can’t handle the heat, you should know better than to booty call hell.”

“Mhmm,” you say, nodding in his hold, tongue darting out to caress his finger. Kid snarls.

Just like that, a large palm presses on your sternum and shoves you down onto the bed. He yanks you by the hips to the edge of the mattress with a bruising grip, and bucks his clothed hips into yours sharply, trouser-covered bulge slapping your pussy roughly, eliciting a whine from your throat.

“Gonna keep your neighbors up with us all night just like this,” he growls, bucking onto you, hands tracing your hips, fingers dipping under your bodysuit to caress your soaking core.

“Wet kitty, so fucking sinful.” He pulls out his fingers, separating them and admiring how your slick strings up and drips down his hand. Then, glowing eyes gaze into yours as a long, sharp, forked tongue licks your essence up, cleaning them in one stroke. You throb. He tosses his trench coat to the floor and you admire his giant, muscular body. Thick neck you want to scratch up. Giant muscles carved of porcelain and littered with scars that you want to bite and paint even prettier. A fallen angel of vermillion, ready to stab you in the dark, drag you down in lust and weeping to your personal circle of heavenly hell.

Without another word, he dips his head down and snaps the crotch of your bodysuit open leaving you with no room to think. He flattens his large, forked tongue and licks a broad, wet stripe over your sopping cunt.

“ ‘s cunny’s mine,” he breathes, and begins his attack on you with his mouth, squeezing your thighs, large tongue teasing into you.

“Yes it’s all—, ohhhh~” He pulls out and shoves two huge fingers with painted fingernails into your entrance, stretching you out and making you arch your back from the sudden stimulation, pussy smushing into his face further. He growls again, feral in nature, the vibrations going straight to your clit as he intently watches your reactions. Wide tongue lapping at your clit, swirling, making you speak in tongues and whimper at how full you are. You do not regret summoning a demon at all.

He adds a third impossibly thick finger and scissors them in and out of you, then impatiently thrusts his tongue back in to fuck you, massaging every little nook and cranny of your textured walls. Swirling up, and up, and up until your brain rots inside your skull and you’re roughly grabbing handfuls of his hair.

You hear him groan a prideful, muffled “Good girl,” as his nose bumps into your clit so snugly. Your eyes roll back at the praise. It’s too much, all of it is too much. And yet, you need more, more, more, please, please, please. His tongue hits a tender spot that makes you jolt and begins to attack it in a full-fledged assault, causing you to snap your gaze back to him and buck your hips greedily into him.

Greedy. He likes that. He likes how greedy your cunt is, because he’s just as greedy for you. Your thighs clench around his head when he shakes his face, soaked in your juices, side to side to rub your clit with his nose pressed tightly to you. “E-Eustass!” you call out for him, all strangled, and a purr rumbles in his thick chest.

In response, he only clenches your thighs tighter around his face, continuing to torture you with his pink tongue that’s long and mobile like a fucking tentacle.

You cry out as talonesque nails dig into your thighs and little pricks of blood come out, but he doesn’t care. And neither do you. You grind on him, head swimming in lust, probably only worsening the pinprick wounds. He leans back with you and completely sits down on the floor beneath, holding the entire weight of your body on top of his face with the strength of a powerful war demon.

He slides you up and down, and you tremble, spots of white flecking your vision as you ride his face, smearing your never ending slick to his insatiable delight.

His amber eyes glare at you, urging you to let go and come undone on top of him. Yet mocking you for needing to cum so soon.

And that’s what you do, shaking violently, curling over him, death grip on his scarlet tresses, as he groans at how delicious you taste. The orgasm washes over you so hard you almost fall slack, almost, as your moans fall silent from your circuits sparking. He drinks up all the essence you have to offer, lips smacking at how delicious you are, deep “Mmmhfuck” causing your nipples to perk.

He stands back up and sets you back down on the bed, unzipping his pants.

You’re lightheaded from the most amazing orgasm of your entire life, gazing at the ceiling as static fills your brain in ocean waves of dumbified pleasure.

Then your mouth gapes open at the sight in front of you. Beautifully red pubes trail right over his giant hand, fisting the biggest cock you’ve seen.

“Ngh, t-too big,” you whimper.

“Oh, I’m shocked you can speak,” he laughs darkly.

“Barely,” you try to prop yourself up on your elbows, but it’s so difficult and you fall back down.

He laughs at you, humiliating you in his stare. “Such a weak kitten,” the demon mocks you in faux sympathy.

You feel as though you nutting just now made you so insanely tired.

“Just lay back, dollface, you’re giving daddy life energy as a snack. Gonna make you even prettier, so dumb you can’t even speak.”

Before you can protest, he’s spearing you with his cockhead, ripping a loud moan from your throat.

He’s merciless, as no god has shown him, a fallen angel, any mercy. So why should he, an incubus leeching off of your sexual energy, show any mercy to a cunt that’s all his and swallows him in just right.

He continues to sink into you, and your nails pay him back by digging into him now, in his meaty forearms.

Kid’s tongue darts out over his crimson lips.

“Keep,” he thrusts out slightly, admiring the way you grip him, “fucking,” he thrusts back in all the way, making you shriek, “taking it.” The pain is so much, too much, the stretch fucking burns at how large of a cock is intruding you, but he hammers into you without regards to your comfort or pleasure. He’s the one using you, fucking you like you’re his breathing flesh light, like you’re the one working for him though he’s the escort demon. Ramming in, threatening to fuck right into your cervix, overload. You’re clamping down, your walls are rejecting him. It makes him curse loudly at how hard it is for him to move, but he’s stronger than a mere human, so ever the sadist, Kid pumps in regardless.

The pain of his unrelenting, selfish thrusts starts to turn slowly into pleasure, and the fullness and overwhelming stretch feels delicious. Your mind turns dumb and you start to whine.

“M-more,” you moan, and he grabs your tit harshly, twisting your nipple painfully, making tears rush to your eyes. He does so to the other tit, then slaps them roughly. You whimper his name, back arching like an exorcism in progress. Except exiting you, this demon is not.

“Yeah? You need some more, you selfish brat?” He growls, pace deepening and quickening. “Don’t you worry, I’m not going anywhere, not until the sun is up.” His hips snap against yours, and his nails rake down your body to fold your thighs against your chest, his crushing weight pinning you to the bed. Your mattress hitting the wall. You struggle to catch the breath that’s knocked out of you in this position.

“Fucking look at me,” he suddenly jibes, and you obediently make eye contact with him. “Now don’t you dare fucking look away or quiet those pretty noises. I want to make you scream.”

He’s going at an inhuman speed, and so fucking deep in this mating press, and hits the spot that made you cum before. His balls slapping against your ass, making you scream.

“Eustass! Eustass! Please, please, please, yes, Nnnn! Please!” You beg him to keep going, as he growls, “fuck yes, beg, princess, beg for this fucking cock,” his thrusts getting sloppier as your cunt tightens around him. Your eyes roll back a little, as he’s fucking you dumb.

“Ah!!!” You yelp, as he roughly slaps your ass.

“What did I fucking tell you?” Eustass snarls, and you bite your lip, face flushed as he glowers at you.

“T-to, to uh, look at you,” you say dumbly, gasping for air.

“That’s a smart girl,” he rubs your clit, making you squirm, and he condescendingly coos down at you, “so why don’t you look at me as I wreck you, hmm?”

His body is so big, so hot, he’s so heavy and wide as your poor legs stretch to accommodate his wide shoulders while he opens you like a flower and pounds into you. He smells so fucking good, you think, and you want him to cum inside of you and claim you as his, and you struggle but do your best to keep looking into his wild eyes. He’s absolutely feral, so intimidating, and your body rocks at his severity so you grasp the base of his horns. A little moan leaves him, and if he wasn’t pressed up so close to you, flooding up all of your thoughts and walls and senses, it would have gone undetected.

A darkness takes over his eyes. “Now you’ve fucking done it,” his voice drops ever lower, and he pulls out. Flips you over onto your hands and knees, pulls your hips to face the ceiling, and bottoms back in in one thrust. The new angle has you screaming and moaning his name, “EU—fuck!!!!” You whimper loudly, and he pushes your head down into the covers.

“Yeah—this pussy—is all—fucking mine—you hear that?” he rumbles in between thrusts, slapping your ass again as he arches your back impossibly, balls slapping your cunt. You’re too dumb to understand what he’s saying and he knows that. Your slick is everywhere between the two of you and it’s making him absolutely drunk and feral.

You’re unable to speak real words, you’re babbling and you claw the sheets as he batters your insides over and over like a battering ram. Tears and drool are soaking the covers beneath you, as you moan while you let him use you. He kneads and slaps your ass again. “Look at me.” He reminds you harshly.

You weakly turn your head to look back at him, blubbering, and his pointy, evil grin sends a jolt straight to your core again.

“You’re my fucking pet, and any man you let have this,” he makes a slicing movement with his finger over his throat. “Got it?”

You’re so gorgeous, hair plastered to your forehead and all wild, face flushed and teary, eyelashes fluttering up at him, gasping, as you whimper, “y-yes, Eustass, I belong to you,” and his deep thrusts slow luxuriously.

“Good girl,” he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you up until your back meets his sweaty inferno of a chest. He rubs more circles on your puffy, abused clit and you squirm from the buzzing overstimulation of another impending orgasm. He eats up how you clench around him, and as your head spins dizzily from him still thrusting up into you deeply, he sinks his teeth into your right shoulder, claiming you.

You cry out weakly from the pain, and spasm around him like a voodoo victim and he lazily fucks you through your second orgasm, enjoying how you make a mess all over his hand.

“Oh, that’s so sexy,” he groans, lapping at the blood on your shoulder, as you squirt all over his arm, and his cock is absolutely drenched, dripping down to his balls. He moans and with a few more thrusts, stills. He fills you up with hot cum.

The giant incubus turns you both around, you still out of breath, dumb, on his cock. “Look here.” He says, like Virgil from Dante’s Inferno showing the writer the lustful circle of hell.

You peer at your reflection in the mirror. You, so fucked out, almost unrecognizable, crying, glowing, lips plump from biting them. A huge bite mark on your shoulder. Bruised hips. Both of you scratched up with a little bit of blood. Legs shaking as you’re sitting pretty on his cock, a bulge evident in your tummy. His huge hands encircling you, him, possessively overshadowing you. He’s so much bigger than you, his width eclipsing you in the reflection.

You lean your head back tiredly. He whispers lowly into your ear. “ ‘M only just getting started with you, but look at how pretty you are as my pet, yeah? This is what I’m gonna see every single night, aren’t you excited?”

You tiredly turn your head to smoosh into his pillowy chest, his smell overpowering your senses, and you look up to him. “This is all I need,” you whisper back.

He sets you down on wobbly legs and holds you up a little. He cups your jaw in his giant hand, and the white of his canines shines. His lipstick is slightly smeared. He looks gorgeous, sinister, a glowing star of red, black, amber, and pale skin.

Then he kisses you, in a way that’s startlingly soft and passionate, in his ferocious way because Eustass is, well, Eustass. He pulls away, eyes glittering darkly.

“That’s the right response, darling.”

———————————————————————-

TO BE CONTINUED 🏴‍☠️ -> part 2!

[cat3ch1sm]

🪴~ hi, everyone! i hope you’ve all had a lovely day or night. today i give you some black butler headcanons because i haven’t written for it in a little while. enjoy, ily <33

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ fem!reader, street harassment, catcalling, language

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝- 𝐟𝐭. 𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧, 𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐢, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐚, 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥

a/n~ i am in no way romanticizing sexual harassment. most of the things i write here in these types of headcanons have happened/been said to me, so i just wanted to make that clear :) thank you <33 also, sorry these are so short, i am tired but i needed to post 😭

sebastian

you two are simply walking down the street, minding your own business as usual- maybe returning from an errand or something. because you’re outside and the weather isnt looking good, you propose that you take a shortcut through a different area. it’s a rougher part of town, but neither of you are fond of the idea of getting caught in the rain, so you take the risk.

you’re probably discussing something fairly mundane when a group of two or three guys spots you from the side of the road. they look dirty and are not at all easy on the eyes. you hear jeering and whistling from the side of the road, along with a few unsolicited comments about how sexy you apparently are. you give them a dirty look but are mostly inclined to ignore them, but Sebastian has other plans.

the butler first moves you to the opposite side of him protectively before marching straight up to the men jeering at you. they stop initially, a little confused, but when they decide Sebastian isn’t too much of a threat, they resume their antics.

“hey, what’re ya doing? you’re blocking our view, bastard.”

“what, are you her boyfriend of something? are ya mad? gonna tell us to stop? not our fault your girl’s a fine piece of ass.”

sebastian literally just stands there and waits for them to finish cackling like middle school boys. then, once they stop, a bit confused as to why Sebastian is still standing there, the butler promptly decks all three of them, knocking them all to the rough ground with three very painful-sounding thuds.

“it’s terribly impolite to verbally assault an innocent woman on the street like that, you know. i would appreciate it greatly if you’d mind your manners next time, yes?”

Sebastian simply leaves the men on the ground to moan and groan at their injuries before rejoining you, who is rendered speechless, in the road.

“this wasn’t a very good shortcut, now was it, my dear? i recommend you make your decisions more wisely next time, rain or not.”

agni

you two are probably just hanging out, on a date or something. you’re walking in the middle of the city, where there are lots of people shopping, selling, just walking, other various things. because of the crowd, you and agni get off the main street and walk behind all the shops and buildings instead for a little more privacy.

while walking behind the buildings, you accidentally stumble and drop your bag. agni politely asks if he can get that for you, but you smile and insist on getting it yourself. you bent over to get your bag and stood back up, which should have been the end of it, but unfortunately you happen to catch the eye of two guys loitering beside one of the buildings you two are in front of.

“i liked it better when you were bent over, sweetheart!”

abruptly, you whirl to face the source of the voice, shocked, your eyes wide. clenching your teeth, you clutch your bag closer and shake your head, starting to walk away in an attempt not to escalate the situation, but agni grabs your hand just before you’re out of his reach. he doesn’t want to bring you any closer to the two men, but agni wants to keep you by his side, so he grasps you around the waist and walks over to them. when he approaches them, his expression is dark, and you can tell how he’s straining to maintain his non-violent ways.

honestly, agni doesn’t really have to say anything to let the guys know that he means business. his threatening aura is overpowering- the cowards are already running for the hills.

“it is a shame that it is so acceptable for these men to treat you like that in England. however- it is clear that they are mere cowards, given that they ran as soon as i approached them. are you doing alright?”

“as long as you are with me, you will never be in harm’s way.”

soma

“hey, baby, your boyfriend don’t look like much- why don’t you come on home with me and i’ll show you a real good time.”

the remark catches you completely off guard. you and soma were on your way back from a cute first date at a quaint coffee shop, which poor soma, trying desperately not to mess up, had planned way too far ahead for just an hour-long date. luckily for him, it had gone well, and you and soma were hitting it off on the walk back to the manor. however, the cheerful little bubble you two were in after officially becoming a couple poles rather abruptly after hearing that comment.

you opted to ignore the offender, and soma simply shot him a dirty look before continuing on your way, protectively wrapping an arm around your shoulder and bringing you closer to him. but the man doesn’t leave you alone.

“hey, babe, why don’t you wanna talk to me? i promise i can be better than that guy you’re with.”

you outright groaned this time, sick of the man hounding you, and soma instantly sensed your annoyance. although he definitely wasn’t fond of the idea of confronting the burly man- who indeed was bigger than soma- he didn’t want to look like a chicken in front of you, and he genuinely didn’t like seeing you upset and vulnerable. so, soma promptly storms up to the man and tries his best to chew him out without wavering.

“hey! you know that it is very rude to catcall a woman like that! you do not even care that she is with a gentleman? you, sir, are a very crass and immature man!”

it really looks better typed out… in reality, soma’s voice is shaky and cracks a lot, and he’s visibly very nervous. like i mentioned, this guy who catcalled you is certainly intimidating. luckily, he isn’t amused by soma and simply waves him off and goes on his way.

grell

“why didn’t he say that to me? what’s wrong with my ass?”

carefully explain to grell that catcalling is not a compliment because she will not know that. even after you explain, she still might take offense☠️☠️

[ryuuza-art]

Soulstober Stories part 4:

Sensing the end was drawing near, I wanted to draw out the experience as much as I could & went exploring.

10. Celestial Emissary

I only discovered the Upper Cathedral Ward late in the game, but I was still forced into stealth thanks to it being littered with powerful foes. So imagine my dismay while fighting my way through the celestial mobs (with whom I'd already had a few unfortunate encounters) to see one of them blow up to several times its original size! Fortunately, "slow and deliberate" won this fight after a couple attempts, but that just left me wondering if there wasn't more.

11. Ebrietas

And more there was!

A truly formidable opponent. Her attacks are devastating, whether you go in close or stay at range and with her obvious Lovecraftian roots, the vast altar room arena and ethereal soundtrack, it felt like fighting a god.

12. Amygdala

I basically stumbled upon her, shortly after being abducted yet again and blundering around, trying to avoid the wrath of the Wandering Madnesses, being crushed by boulders, or getting repeatedly poisoned. One I had to come back to a fair few times throughout my first playthrough, before I was truly equipped to tackle her with any success. A thoroughly intimidating foe, not just for her size, but because her weak spots were mostly out of reach, so I had to chip away at her while trying my best not to get flattened or eviscerated. "Poor bastard" indeed. I remember letting out a cheer when I finally took her down!

13. Martyr Logarius

I really enjoyed Cainhurst, in all its bloodsoaked glory and found the lore fascinating. Logarius, however, felt like a punishment. Narrow corridors.and wide ranging spells never mix, especially when you can still fall to your death if you make one wrong step. His tracer skulls and raining swords are forever etched into my memory. I took absolute pleasure in jeering upon his defeat.

14. Micolash, Host of the Nightmare

"Ahh, Kos, or some say Kosm..."

Now there was nothing left but to finish what I started.

From the opening cutscene, I was immediately enamoured with Micolash - if you know me at all, he is*exactly* my kind of unhinged! Chasing him down while also dealing with his skeleton marionettes, was as simple as herding cats, but I enjoyed hearing his musings throughout the battle, his wild cackling as you knock seven bells out of him, set to eerie, dizzying strings. He's still one of my favourite bosses to this day!

[lamemaster]

Yandere the Silmarillion Elves

Request: Hello! May I request yandere headcanons for Maeglin and Maglor (separately), perhaps with a human reader? Also, I really love your blog you write incredible stories :))

Pairings: Maeglin x human reader & Maglor x human reader

Genre: Dark themes. Maeglin's is gorey >"<

AN: Thank you for requesting this! I enjoy writing dark themes and this definitely was my cup of tea. I hope you like it.

Next up- Finrod x Valyrian! Reader Fall trope event list

Maeglin- (yandere reader)

A mangled mess of limbs was how you found him, withering beneath the ruins of the fallen city.

Somehow, against all odds, he lived. An amalgamation of mass bound to a body. Condemned to survive in a body tortured by death’s refusal to grant him peace.

He had endured this state for nearly a year, trapped between life and death, as if the world itself were determined to deny him release.

And then, there was you. As a wandering bandit, the sight of Gondolin’s ruins had seemed a fortune, a treasure mine promising riches to last a lifetime.

Yet amid the remnants of shattered stone and splintered wooden furniture, there he lay—the last survivor of the city’s fall. The one who instigated it all.

The incestuous bastard who, miraculously, had survived it. Every elven bards’ latest villain, the one sung of in recent ballads with curses on their lips.

You lifted the broken elf, cradling his twisted form—if his position could even be called that. His eyes, devoid of lids, remained fixed on you, unblinking, raw from months of crying out for help that never came. Gods, even now, he was beautiful.

Thus began your labor. Five days passed as you set bones that had grown crooked with time, wrapped him in scraps of cloth salvaged from the ruins, and nursed him with poppy milk poured into his helpless lips. With his face streaked by dried tears, he grew drowsy, finally slipping into fevered dreams.

As he lay shivering in your arms, lost in visions of a life that had abandoned him, you brushed your hand over his unmarred skin, tracing the contours of his trembling eyelids.

You murmured softly, your voice a mix of promise and threat “I would never let anyone hurt you. They’d have to get through me first... and believe me, they wouldn’t make it.” As if your reassurance could pull him back from his dreams of the past life without you.

Here, in the grave of his past, he was yours. No one would come for the one even death had forsaken. He was yours alone, bound by fate’s cruelty and your own claim upon him.

Cupping his damp cheek, you grinned, a glint of madness in your eyes. “My darling incestuous bastard,” you whispered, a low cackle slipping from your lips.

Maglor- (yandere character)

Maglor would follow you into death. Not even Eru Himself could hope to take you from him. No one would ever take what was his, not again.

The wedding was swift. In fact, the secondborn Fëanorian had insisted upon it within weeks of meeting you, brushing aside your hesitations with fervent kisses.

Your concerns about the doom of mortality were hushed in whispers and promises; if death was a gift granted to Men, then Maglor would seize it back from its giver. His breaths would ebb and flow with yours. Nothing could alter that.

It was all he could do now. Time had sharpened his resolve, even blunted the burns of the Silmaril, leaving behind only faint scars.

He had glamoured away his past, letting his skin heal so he could become the perfect lover for you, forsaking his true name for a new one.

Peldis, he called himself. A mountain elf from distant valleys. By sheer luck, you hadn’t noticed the faint scent of brine lingering about him, nor the care he took in combing his tangled hair until it shone.

You hadn’t glimpsed the quiet ferocity with which he shed his former self to stand before you, a stranger made whole in the reflection of your wants.

It had been one fateful night, when the ache of the Silmaril consumed him, that he’d first seen you.

Or rather, he’d caught sight of you wading in moonlit waters, bare as the light itself, utterly unguarded. He hadn’t looked away. The years had been long, and the Fëanorian had been starved.

The vision of silvery moonlight tracing your body had entranced him, struck him with a longing sharper than any oath. 

You were it, he thought. The Silmaril reborn. Perhaps even better than any of his father’s works. You were more than a cursed jewel.

Like a viper shedding its skin, Maglor transformed himself into Peldis. A convenient presence in your village, a simple trader of carved wooden combs.

It had not taken him long to notice the way your own hair flowed down your back like silk, and he knew, watching you, that you would come to him.

From offering a delicate comb for your hair to placing the ring upon your finger, Maglor had orchestrated each moment, each touch.

The songs of your fairytale romance made it easy to draw you into his arms, into the warmth of your bed, far from prying eyes and whispers.

And there, as he held you close, his touch guiding you deeper into his embrace, he tugged your soul into a quiet submission, bending your will and your mind to his desire.

Maglor knew what was best for you. And in this life, that place was here, wrapped in his arms, your heart tethered to his.

Even in the harmony of the Timeless Halls, yours would be the song he would compose. His muse. His beloved. You were his, now and forever.

[luveternals]

paring: TF141 x male reader. rating: mature, MDNI. cw: (heavy stuff guys, I think) violence, death, implied suicide, failed suicide attempt, implied temporary death, morally grey reader, insanity, immortality, not a poly (lol too possessive irl for it, sorry). this story is... mostly just angst and mainly not finished (meaning possible serie? Idk). a/n: took me an eternity bc I didn't know who to write for... nice. Anyway, status update for steven grant x reader is scheduled for next week(Nov 30th). y'all went mad for it while I said I wasn't sure about it! lmao (psst, I approve) ~ ~ ~

When all sensations and feelings get ripped away from you, you realize that the wait is worse than pain.

And it grows more and more unbearable the longer years go by.

Wander the city without destination. Expect that cursed urge that comes yanking at your insides and guiding your body like a puppet. Never be sure when it'll come, but know that it will. At the start, it was nothing but a growing emptiness carving itself deep inside you, but now it’s become an insatiable hunger that never seems to leave you alone.

And when that urge eventually comes, it's worse than the wait. 

The knowledge that you are finally about to fill the emptiness as you follow whatever it is that it’s tagging you along. The realization that you are nothing but a selfish bastard who is letting his greed guide his very being. 

All at the simple price of a stole life. 

You stand on the edge of the roof and peer into the streets below.

The longer you wait the more you feel like you’re fading away, and the deeper the hunger grows. And so here you are, jumping over the edge and glading down through the air like a leaf falling off a tree. Your feet brush against the pavement without a sound as you land at the mouth of the alley, the breeze blowing louder than your presence.

Deep into the alley, a man presses his back against the farthest wall, terror blurring his gaze as he grits his teeth. One of his arms hangs limply against his side while the other presses against his stomach over the nasty slash sipping blood into the fabric of his tunic. His eyes jump from the approaching thugs blocking every escape to the sword he’s lost somewhere near the entrance of the alley. It lays at your feet, useless. 

The stench of death grows stronger the larger the stain of dripping blood grows under him. You creep closer, waiting.

“Sorry, pal,” one of the attackers says, a nasty grin tagging at his lips, “it’s you or us, y’know. Gunna be luckier next time, ay?” he raises both his arms over his head and brings his sword down onto his victim wih a final ‘whoosh’.

Blood splatters into the wall and the thieves are onto the body before it can even fall onto the ground, ripping at its belongings like vultures. It takes them less than a minute and soon they dart out of the alley cackling and whooping.

You stand over the body, staring at the despair frozen into its expression for what seems an eternity. Then you crouch down and lower yourself over it. A shriek cuts through the air but you are too far gone to care for it. Your body feels heavier as your soul sinks lower, bones and flesh latch into your very being. You let yourself go, ignoring all sounds that break the still silence surrounding you and all voices that echoe inside your head.

What if this is another failure? What if this is actually not possible?

You try to open your —his— eyes, but the lids are heavy and when you finally do open them, your vision is blurred. There is someone staring down at you, their hand slapping at your face to keep you awake. “—hear me? Help is on the way, but you need to stay awake.” Their voice is muffled, as if trying to talk to you through water, but their concern is palpable even for your half-conscious brain. 

You grin at them.

You did it. 

You’re alive!

-

They've gotten good at it, you'll give them that. It hasn't been a month yet and they've already found you. 

Granted, it's gotten challenging to stay hidden for longer than a few weeks before your needs start to mess with your head. 

You're running, slipping through the crowd with delirious laughter. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, and you watch the helicopter follow your every move. 

You won't be able to hide. You're trapped, and they know. 

You shove a man out of your way, jump over the railing and land on the sidewalk below with a roll. 

They've blocked the traffic and redirected it to keep any car or vehicle from running your way. 

“They're learning,” you grin and glance over your shoulder, making sure they can see your expression. “Let's see how much, though.”

You push forward and rush your way to the other side of the road to the railing of the bridge. It's a fall of over fifty meters. This body will not survive the impact with the water below. 

You're at the railing when something stabs into your side and an electric current sends your senses to overdrive. 

-

You wake up hurting. And it's one of the most intense pain you've experienced so far. But before you can scream at it, numbness spreads through your body, and all your senses grow muddled. 

You can't move. You can't feel. Only see and hear, though even those are muffled. 

It reminds you how it is to not have a body and not be able to do anything about it. 

It's worse than the pain. 

-

The second time you wake, you're sitting in a chair, head hanging and limbs restrained with more chain than it's probably strictly necessary. 

The numbness is gone and you let yourself let out the softest sigh of relief. 

There's a camera blinking at you from a corner of the ceiling and you let a smirk cut through your expression. It's sharper, meaner than you usually would give your hunters. But the memory of numbness they put you through sends phantom tingles to the end of your fingertips, and you can't find it in yourself to be anything but nasty right now. 

There's an ugly, useless table made of metal before you, and you don't even stop yourself from rolling your eyes at it. 

Right. At least they're not some mad scientist cutting you open to study how you work. Not that they'd find anything useful really. 

The door past the table opens and your captures finally make their entrance. 

“Is this how you make friends?” you says, leaning back into a lazy slump, despite the restraints, to stare at them as they move deeper into the room. “You electrocute them and tie them up with a nice, little steel ribbon?”

They're all wearing full masks (skulls, how fitting) and gear, covering most of their features besides the more obvious. Their height and the like. 

It doesn't bother you. You're not here to familiarize with them, but it would have been nice to see the faces of those who've finally managed to catch you and lock you up. 

“Have you no shame?” one of them says, but his tone doesn't betray his true emotions. He sits on the chair opposite yours and folds his hands in front of him, resting his arms onto the table. 

There's four of them, the ramain three spread around the tiny room. Standing by the door or looming over your shoulder like a creep. 

“You steal the faces of others and make whatever you want of their lives.”

“So? They are dead. Like it or not, they won't miss their lives since they'd already found a new one on the other side.”

There's nothing to hide here. They're simply trying to guilt trip you. Everyone knows what you are, and the world has been alerted about your existance. It's just that they've never managed to catch you. 

What you do might be cruel to some. But to you, it's the only option you have to live. 

Your 'victims' — as everyone so loves to call them — are already dead by the time your soul replaces theirs. You have never killed anyone but yourself and consequentially their empty body. But you have never taken the live of another to make it yourself with your own hands.

All you are doing is trying to keep your head above a water that is a life with no ability to feel. Sensations and emotions both. All you are doing is keeping from losing yourself to madness. 

Is it too much to ask? 

“They might be dead. But you're hurting those you love and care for them.” the man says, “dying isn't the problem. You are not the one hurting. Those who you leave behind, they are the ones to really suffer.”

The words are like a sword through the heart, sharp and incessantly slow as it sinks in. You hang your head and grit your teeth. “Shut up.”

Laughter echoes into your ears. 

“Shut up!” the chains rattle and strain when you throw yourself forward. They leave angry bruises on your skin. 

“This is not the end,” he smiles and cups your face, his frail, trembling hands passing through your cheeks as he forgets himself. “this— you'll find a way when you're ready. And I'll see you on the other side.”

~ ~ ~ reblog, comment and/or follow if you like what I write. please and thank you. without feedback I don't have a reason for keeping this blog alive, since I created it so I can practice my writing.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 22

Kid x FemReader X Killer

Warnings: Briefly suggestive?

Changing Tides

There was no land in sight when you went out on deck. In fact, the wind was whipping at the sails and the Victoria Punk was speeding along. You looked around deck, "WHERE IS HE?!" The crew moved out of your way hastily as you stormed after your target. A few weakly put up their pointer fingers in the direction of his workshop. It was a cardinal sin to barge in without being invited. The crew all seemed to tense at once when you marched towards it and kicked the door open, slamming it behind you. 

"WHO-" Kid looked up from what he was doing, to find you already eye to eye with him, leaning over his workbench. 

"Why am I on this fuckin ship again, Kid?!" You slammed your hands down on the table. "You could have left me somewhere! Or waited to boot me off before you left!" 

He pushed his goggles up to rest on his forehead. He seemed to take in a deep breath before he spoke, like he was trying not to yell. "First of all, I told ya that my girls would have been upset with me if I left ya all crispy. Second, did ya want me to wait until the island was crawling with marines?!" Kid tugged your sleeve to shift your hand away from what he was working on. "But if ya WANT to be caught so bad, I'LL TURN THE WHOLE DAMN SHIP AROUND!" 

"IF I'M STUCK ON THIS GODDAMN SHIP FOR ANOTHER HOWEVER MANY WEEKS, I'M GOING TO LOSE MY CHANCE TO KILL THAT BASTARD, YOU FUCKIN SMARTASS." You pulled his goggles and let them snap against his head. "I need to find a ship and get after him!" 

Kid rubbed his forehead. "Yeah?! And you think yer gonna find a crew?!" He couldn't hold himself back from adding, "That didn't work out well for ya the first time, did it, Rotten?" 

The force with which you jumped over the table knocked him backwards out of his seat. Kid was easily the person who made you see red the fastest. "SHUT YOUR FUCKIN MOUTH!" Both of your hands together didn't fit around his neck. You pushed down with your full body weight, knees on either side of his chest. "STUPID FUCKIN THICK NECK TO HOLD UP YOUR STUPID FUCKIN BIG HEAD!" You growled out of frustration. 

"FER MY BIG FUCKIN BRAIN," Kid cackled, slightly raspy from your grip. He wasn't even trying to stop you. His hands were behind his head, totally unbothered by your assault. That only served to make you more mad. Kid could tell you were about to really let him have it. Relenting, he admitted, "As much as I'm enjoying this, ya can calm yer pretty little ass down." Your eyes narrowed. "We're already in pursuit. Ya think I would let them get away with kidnapping my crew?"

"Why didn't you just say that?!" You eased up on your grip.

"And miss this view?" Kid snickered. He looked you up and down. "Yer hot when yer mad." He reached to grab your chin and you swatted his hand away. That didn't seem to phase him as the same hand grabbed your thigh. "If ya just scoot down a bit I got somethin for ya ta sit on," Kid licked his lips.

His grip released you quite quickly when you brought a fist full of armament haki down into his sternum. "Fuck you, Kid," you growled, watching him cough and roll around on the floor. You left his workshop just as huffy as you went in, though now you were conflicted. Now, you weren't sure if you were mad at him or not, if you were enemies or not, and worst of all, if you were horny for him or not. Him and his stupid fuckin big co-.

Quincy's vice-like embrace cut your thoughts off from going any further. "Y/N! You're okay!" She rocked you both back and forth until you gently pushed her back.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You smiled awkwardly at her. "Thanks for the concern. And you guys, all good?" 

Quincy grinned, "Only thanks to you!" She grabbed your hand and pulled you to follow her. "Come on. We wanna show you something." 

She tugged you along down to the women's quarters and very proudly presented an empty bunk to you. You gave her a questioning look.

"It's your bunk!" She was practically glowing. 

"Oh... wow..." You didn't know what to say. You had no plans to stay here long-term, but you didn't want to disappoint her. 

She rolled her eyes at you. "I know you're not staying." She put air quotes around 'not staying'. "Sleep here with us instead of alone up there." She added, with a sly grin, "Or in the captain's quarters." 

You scoffed, "Absolutely not. He can kiss my ass."

"I bet you'd like that." 

You shrugged. "Maybe I would," you stuck your tongue out at her playfully, before smiling. "Thanks, Quincy. That was... actually pretty nice of you guys." 

______________________________________________________________

Sleep escaped you. Or maybe you were fighting it. The nightmares you used to have faded over time, and now they were back in full force with recent events. You leaned against Mini in the mouth of the skull at the ship's bow, staring out over the sea. The black waves lapped at the ship, the only sign of their presence was the sound of them against the wood and the occasional flash as the moon's light was reflected in your direction. A light, salty breeze sent shivers through you, though it wasn't uncomfortably cold. You didn't take your eyes off the horizon, waiting for the first glint of light or the first emergence of a shape that would mean you were closer to catching up with the enemy. 

You had checked your log pose periodically, almost obsessively, to make sure the course of the ship was correct. You were in the weird limbo of being exhausted and yet not able to sleep in any meaningful way, maybe drifting off but waking up less than a second later. Settling on a semi-trance-like state, you rose and fell with Mini's breathing. The thoughts in your head kept circling back to all the ways you were going to make Giemsa suffer, all the ways you could prolong his agony. 

Before long, the pink tongues of light that signified dawn licked at the sky. You squinted at the horizon, looking for any sign of a ship. Nothing. 

Killer was on his way to the galley to make breakfast, noticing you as he did so. He caught Heat's attention as he came down from the crow's nest. It was shift change. Heat had been on night watch and would sleep after breakfast, while someone took his place in the crow's nest during the day. Killer gestured towards where you sat, "What's up with that?"

Heat shrugged, "She's been sitting there since midnight or so. Just sitting. Hasn't moved."

Killer nodded and dismissed him. He thought about asking you to help him in the kitchen, to get your mind off things, and perhaps for selfish reasons, too. However, after Kid had told him what transpired between the two of you, he figured you were probably still agitated. He didn't know you well, but he did know how much Kid irritated you. In fact, Kid would probably come bother you later on purpose specifically because he knew it irritated you. Killer sighed. He looked your way again before shaking his head and moving on to the kitchen.

Several times over the day, people came by to check up on what you were doing, but they were all deterred by the aura of wrath that sat heavily in the air around you. All but one, that is. Maybe he was even drawn in by it instead of deterred. You tried to ignore him, even though you knew he was there. He made it very hard by moving to stand directly in front of you, facing the sea, same as you were.

"Go. Away."

"Is that any way to talk to yer captain?" He said without turning to look at you.

"No. But you aren't my captain." Mini snorted, punctuating your sentiment. "Get out of the way. I can't see."

Now, he turned to face you, leaning against the railing. "Yer seein the only thing that matters, doll."

You knew he wasn't gonna move. He was trying to make you mad on purpose. It took a considerable effort not to play into his hand. "Whatever." You moved a few feet away from him to stand at the railing and continue your watch. 

Kid pulled a flask out and took a drink. He swished it towards you, "Want some?"

The offer was tempting. "No, I want all my senses sharp when I pull his heart out through his ass."

A bellowing laugh came from Kid. "Ya think yer gettin him first? Not a chance in hell. He's mine."

Your head whipped to look at him, "Excuse me?"

"He took my crew. He's mine." 

This time, he wasn't even deliberately trying, though you were pissed now. "I know you're fucking joking." You took a step towards him, fist balled like you were prepared to swing, and you were. "He's mine. I've been after him for far longer than you and for a better reason," you snarled. 

"And what reason would that be?" Kid challenged.

You turned back towards the sea and said nothing. Your nails dug into the railing. That part of you was for only you to know. Kid was far from the first person you would open up to about that. You channeled your anger back into thinking about all the ways you were going to eviscerate Giemsa. 

Kid stood there facing you, watching the knuckles on your hands turn white and your jaw setting. "Fine." Kid said shortly. "Ya get first and last." He held a hand out to shake on it. 

That was a shock. "What's the catch?" You were hesitant to accept this strange change of heart. 

Kid looked away and waved his hand dismissively. "Nothin. S'only cuz ya saved my crew." 

You nodded. That's basically a "thank you". You turned back to the water, without shaking his hand. 

He looked around to make sure no one saw him stand there awkwardly holding his hand out and quickly ran his hand through his hair. Kid lingered for a minute longer before turning to leave.

"Kid."

He looked back with a grunt, expecting some smartass remark. The captain grinned, however, when he saw that your finger was pointed in the direction of the horizon, where the faintest dot of a ship sat. 

Next Chapter

[thetormentita]

the bastard queen - chapter 1

the things we do for love.

Pairing: Original female! Targaryen/Arthur Dayne

A/n: au for Robert’s Rebellion. Enjoy!

Rating: Mature (+16)

The strangling tension can suffocate even the most strong-willed courtier. With the hint of charred corpses still lingering in the air, Arthur Dayne wonders if the king has changed his clothes since the last night, where he delighted himself with the pleading yells of two prisoners as wildfire devoured them and the rest of the people gathered in the Great Hall drowned in horror.

With the reliable Barristan Selmy guarding the meeting with him, his lilac eyes observe the men as they take their seats around the wooden table, only the naïve Qarlton Chelsted and the newly appointed Hand Owen Merryweather to not show grim faces. The tension is palpable, a heavy cloak of discomfort wrapping around each lord present. The king's recent actions have instigated fear and uncertainty, even among the most loyal men.

As matters follow one to another, almost the whole group of men trying to decide what is best for the realm, Arthur’s mind is partly elsewhere, honed by years of duty and vigilance. His gaze, under the guise of passive surveillance, catches every subtle shift and twitch among those gathered. All of them or too cautious or too coward to dare and defy the monster with the crown upon his brow.

“With your permission, Your Grace” lord Merryweather’s voice almost trembles with hesitation, fearful of the reaction of the king. “There is a pressing matter this council has to discuss” Aerys raises a pointy eyebrow towards him, and Arthur can spot the slight curl of the king's lip, an ominous prelude to his temper which could ignite over the most trivial of provocations. “Princess Valaena’s marriage.”

This mention of the Princess Valaena, the beloved jewel of the kingdom, causes a distinct shift in the atmosphere of the room. The council members exchange wary glances as the name of the only daughter of the monarches is put over the table. They all have witnessed during the years the mood swifts and the affronts of Aerys towards his own daughter, branding her as ‘bastard’, ‘dragonspawn’ or worse only because the colour of her hair is darker than the rest of her family, and they have developed various degrees of sympathy towards her. Arthur Dayne himself stiffens when Merryweather dares to speak her name, thinking of him as unfit to even think about his princess.

“We should wait” Rhaegar Targaryen, the Crowned Prince, also shows himself most uncomfortable in his chair with the idea of being separated from his beloved sister. “My lady wife is still recovering and she gladly keeps her company. It would not be wise to rush matters.”

The tension around the table is palpable. A quick glance from Rhaegar to both kingsguards looks more like a plea than he actually wants to.

“Nonsense!” the king screeches, the council apparently having passed over the menacing looks of the loon, with his nails more like claws pointing at his own son and heir and to his master of ships, who dares to agree with the prince. “That girl will be useful to the crown for once in her life.”

“Your majesty” lord Velaryon counterattacks, having properly made his work towards the eyes of the Mad King for quite a time, “with your permission, I would suggest the lady Valaena to get married to me. Houses Velaryon and Targaryen have had a shared history towards the centuries, and Driftmark would prove a safe refuge to our much beloved princess.”

Aerys, his gaze sharp as the blades his ancestors wielded, seems to consider consider Velaryon's proposal with a mixture of intrigue and suspicion. Leaving hopes for a response hanging in the air like a thick fog, he seems to find amusement in the pause, rejoicing himself as he crashes Lucerys Velaryon’s hopes with an acrid cackle.

“Do you think that I would allow my only daughter to be pushed to the margins of my realm, hidden away on Driftmark, while I sit the Iron Throne?” Aerys’s voice rises, filled with annoyance and madness, and it seems that the balls of every member of the council shake on their pedestals over the table “How dare you to even think of putting a hand on her!?”

It seems this time the protective father has taken the place of the abusive parent, and if it weren’t for the space between them both, with Aerys sat at the head of the table and the Lord of the Tides almost at the other side of it, the king would have easily thrown his wine cup to his face, or even worse.

“Your Grace” it is this time Lord Varys’ modulled voice to speak, and the whole bunch of men put their attention upon him, the Master of Whispers. The Spider. “I can think of a much more adequate suitor for the princess’ hand” his eyes dart towards Lucerys Velaryon, who just answers with a half lidded gaze behind his own cup. “Storm’s End.”

He was just a lad when the tragedy of Shipbreaker’s Bay took place, only a mere squire to prince Lewyn before he joined the Kingsguard himself. The death of the beloved Steffon Baratheon and his lady Cassana stroke the Red Keep, with queen Rhaella helplessly weeping for them in the Great Sept of Baelor and the Mad King descending upon madness more quickly even.

“Lord Steffon and lady Cassana died in a mission for the Crown, and the young stags would surely feel again protected by the Crown if their house would join house Targaryen again, like two generations ago with the arrival of princess Rhaelle.”

Both kingsguards exchange glances, almost like searching an explanation or even a support. If the only unsullied member of that wretched family was to be taken away, what could be awaiting around the corner?

“Storm’s End seems the most appropriate place, father” Rhaegar’s measured words leave Arthur and Barristan nonplussed. “Robert Baratheon is a force to be considered, and Valaena can be the most ideal way to make him bend the knee to the Crown’s wishes.” Both knights look at the prince, their expressions a mix of concern and understanding. They knew the politics of the realm as well as any, and the value of strategic marriages could not be underestimated, but Rhaegar giving up his sister, his only confident, the receiver of his hopes and praises, is something none of them can explain. “Besides, it is close to Kingslanding, with a safe passage through the Kingswood now that ser Arthur led the royal offensive and cleaned the road of thieves.”

As soon as the meeting meets its end, quickly Arthur and Barristan make their way towards Rhaegar, whose paces drive him to the Master of Whispers. Both knights carefully take their places behind them as the prince and the Spider talk about trivialities before the conversation takes a sharp turn into more pressing matters. The air around them thickens with tension as Rhaegar's tone becomes earnest, almost urgent.

“Do tell me there is a good reason for having placed that wretched idea on the table.” he grits, trying to look as calm and regal as always, the type of king Westeros deserves instead of Aerys.

“I seem to recall that you and I pursue the same interests, Your Highness. Our primary aim is to ensure the stability and prosperity of the realm,” the Spider responds, his voice smooth and measured, a stark contrast to the prince’s fight to keep his composure.

Barristan Selmy swiftly opens a door, half hidden at mere sight and the three of them end up pushing Varys inside, quickly closing it behind, making sure nobody listens to their clandestine meeting. The room, lit by a single flickering candle, casts long shadows across the faces of the men, adding an air of mystery.

“You have to be kidding, Spider” the Stormlander spits, arms crossed over his chest, clearly disgusted.

“We share a common goal, despite our interests being different” the bald man observes each and every one of them and Arthur finds it hard to not gut that man in that room and let his heart drive his actions. “With the temperamental Robert Baratheon linked to the crown, maybe one day he witnesses one of the King’s fits and surprises us. I find it surprising that none of you have reached that thought…”

“How sure you are that he will risk everything for the princess?”

It is not a question, but almost a growl that escapes his lips. With his wrist resting carelessly over Dawn’s pommel, Arthur’s lilac eyes observe the eunuch’s face with attention, ready to defend Valaena’s honour if he musts.

“She is a complete delight” a cunning smile upon Varys’ thin lips repulses him. “There are lots of young lords who would gladly risk their titles, their lands, even their lives for a chance to stand beside her. All she has to do is charm him, and he will do whatever she wishes, no matter the cost. Power, in its most intoxicating form, wouldn’t you agree, my lord?”

Arthur’s grip on Dawn tightens with the mere thought of his princess used as a mere tool in the dangerous games of court. The idea of Valaena, with her vibrant laugh and kind heart, being manipulated by those who see her as nothing more than a pawn in their quests for power fills him with a cold, seething anger. Yet, amidst this storm of emotions, a steadfast resolve takes root within him. He knows the challenges that lay ahead are daunting, but the thought of Valaena facing these alone is something he cannot, and will not, entertain. The fire in his heart, fueled by his love and unwavering determination, ignites a clear path forward. He vows to himself to keep her away from any harm, to guard her as long as he breathes, to stand by her side against the shadows that seek to engulf her.

Only when Rhaegar dismisses the Master of Whispers he allows himself to show the true depth of his concern.

“What happened to the vision, Rhaegar?” his voice, bitter, reflects the turmoil swirling within him. “We were supposed to protect her, to ensure her safety above all else. Have we lost ourselves that badly in the webs of the spider that we are unable to see the light with our own eyes?”

The vision. How hard it had been to handle the burden of such a prophecy, one who sealed the fate of the young princess to a loveless marriage, to the hopes of bearing a saviour, the future of house Targaryen depending on her fragile shoulders… At least she has Elia by her side. For a short while.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

I just listened to an audio from an account I follow for funny 141 bits and laughs here and there and it’s a decidedly well voiced teaser for what I imagine is a horny NikPrice + Listener audio with a predatorily charged tone.

The reason I’m choosing to Share With the Class™️ is because this stuff is not normally for me but also has still somehow sent my mind *places* and I did not want to go there alone.

Like, something about both of them preying together on one or multiple poor (lucky) bastard who they give the best night of their life is an…appealing thought, to say the least. Rugged mad men who slay together, prey together and lay together and whatnot.

(If desired:

Woe, TikTok video upon ye

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTFs8UX5W/)

Mikey, I listened to it and my partner gave me the funniest bloody look, I swear. So, now I've stopped cackling...

Thank you for this. Yes, absolutely; two rugged, horny, experienced older queer men showing someone a good time in the wilderness is one hundred thousand times my thing. Love the hint of hunter-prey fun as well, because that kink is top tier, especially if you love the outdoors. Can you imagine the thrill of someone like Gaz or Soap? Or even Ghost (he'd really give them a run for their money)?

They think they've got away and the chase is over; legs and lungs burning, body exhausted. Price appears from the darkness like a fucking demon, and then Ghost or whoever turns to make a break for it, but they run directly into Nikolai. "Where are you going, zaychonok? The fun is only getting started." They're done, they're fucked (biblically and otherwise), under the paw of a wolf and a bear. And they're so fucking hard.

Absolutely delish.

[nocherrybombs]

Lumine: Paimon and I are leaving for Fontaine, but before we go, what can you two chuckleheads tell me about the Fatui Harbinger stationed there?

Childe: Oh, Arlecchino? Yeah, she's a freak.

Wanderer: The Knave perfectly fits the profile of a classical sociopath. She'll be flawlessly charming right up to the moment she stabs you in the back for no other reason than to find out what color your blood is.

Childe: Her mere presence makes children weep in terror, which is probably why she spends so much of her time with them. A few weeks ago I asked her not to leave a mess in the bathroom at Zapolyarny and she threatened to disembowel me and feed my entrails to a pack of starving wolves.

Wanderer: Morning bathroom priority is determined by your rank. Sucks to be 11th, honestly.

Lumine: Holy shit you guys.

Childe: It's always a little touch-and-go with her, but deep inside she's really just the kind of person who would sell you to the Abyss Order for one corn chip.

Wanderer: That absolute lunatic had the audacity to ask me if she could remove my organs because she was mad at Dottore and wanted to, and I quote, "deny that blue-haired bastard the satisfaction". So yes, enjoy dealing with her. I'll be far, far away doing literally anything else.

Childe: Yeah, sorry comrade, you're on your own for this one. But hey, Sandrone is also in Fontaine, so at least she'll be there to keep Arlecchino in check.

Lumine: And what is Sandrone like?

Wanderer: *cackles hysterically*

Lumine: Great.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Hey, I just read your Derry Girls 'your mum rang me' oliver wood one shot and was wondering if you could do like a weasley reader (maybe percys twin) and do the scene in last series in Derry Girls where erin and james kiss and Michelle is like 'this is incest!'

No problem if can't and sorry if I've spoiled!!! X

We're Not Related

Oliver Wood x Weasley!Reader 0.9k words Warnings: some kissing, potential Derry Girls spoilers Sorry this took so long! I've been in an absolute writing funk that I'm finally coming out of. Thank you for this request, I love getting to steal Derry Girls dialogue! I cackled writing this!

~

Oliver gazed down with a smile. His girlfriend- Merlin, he really got to call her his girlfriend!- was laying on his bed reading a book. The quiet, private time together made faking sick and skipping a trip to Hogsmeade worth it.

A tiny, quiet part of Oliver felt kind of guilty. As much as he tried to deny it, deep down inside he really did consider Percy Weasley a friend. Probably his best friend, oddly enough. The three of them had hung out regularly since their second year, sometimes adding Penelope Clearwater to the mix. So going behind his back and dating his twin sister was…. not something Oliver felt great about. But he wasn’t ready for whatever fallout would follow Percy finding out about them.

Instead, he watched her, her Weasley-red hair splayed out beneath her, his heart full of the affection he’d been carrying for the past three months. As if she could feel the heat of his gaze, she looked up, scrunching her freckled nose.

“You’re staring at me,” she observed with a little hum.

“And?” Oliver replied, his soft smile morphing into a smirk.

She shrugged, putting down her book. “D’you need something?”

Oliver helped her sit up and pulled her close to himself. “Nah, got everything I need right here.”

It was a cheesy line. Incredibly lame. It should have made her roll her eyes. But because it was Oliver Wood who said it, gazing at her with those honey eyes, his arms doing that flexing thing that drove her mad, it actually worked. Before she knew it, she and Oliver were locked in an embrace, lips moving in sync, hands gripping tight to wherever they landed. Just as Oliver was gently pushing her back onto the bed, the door opened-

“Oh, you sick, sick bastards.”

Percy Weasley stood in the doorway, Honeydukes package in his hand, his face even paler than usual as his wide eyes surveyed the scene before him.

His twin sister sat up, fixing her hair. “Listen, Percy-”

“This is incest!” Percy sputtered, absently tossing the chocolates onto his own bed. Chocolates he had bought in hopes that it would cheer up his supposedly sick roommate.

His definitely-not-sick roommate made a face. “No, it’s not.”

Percy nodded. “Yes, it is, Oliver.”

“We’re not related,” Oliver pointed out, gesturing between himself and the girl who should absolutely not be in the boys’ dorm, let alone on Oliver’s bed.

“Oh, and that makes it okay, I suppose?” Percy had never felt this level of disgust and abhorrence, and maybe even a little betrayal.

His sister snorted. “Well, it makes it not incest,” she mumbled.

Percy was pacing the small room at this point, his face now beginning to redden and match his smattering of freckles. “Right. Okay. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, and say that Oliver had a very nasty head injury from last night’s practice, and you-” He pointed to his sister. “-drank a botched batch of Amortentia, which has caused you to think that Wood here is an appropriate snogging partner.”

She huffed, now officially tired of her brother’s nonsense. “This is none of your business, Perce.”

The prefect’s face now matched his tie. “Oh, but it is, troll face.” His resorting to childhood insults was a sure sign of his anger. “It is very much my business. This can’t happen, okay? You two can’t get together because, putting aside the face that it makes me want to hurl, if you get together, you’ll break up, and then where does that leave me, Wood?” His gaze turned to Oliver, begging his roommate to understand. “You might be my best friend, but she’s my sister, and like it or not, I’ll have to stick with her. Don’t put me in that position.”

Oliver jumped off the bed and rushed to Percy’s side, placing a hand gently on the Weasley boy’s shoulder. “I’m your best friend, Weasley?” His honey eyes were wide, full of wonder.

“Of course,” Percy scoffed. “Aren’t I yours?”

For the first time, Oliver said the words every other Gryffindor already knew: “Yeah, you’re my best friend, Percy.”

The two boys stood, smiling at each other, relieved to finally admit their fondness for one another after years of grumbling whenever someone called them anything more than roommates.

The sound of someone clearing their throats brought them out of their tender moment.

“That’s great and all,” Percy’s sister- no, Oliver’s girlfriend- murmured. “But that doesn’t solve Percy’s… issue.”

Oliver’s cheeks reddened. “Right. Right.” He turned back to his best friend. “Listen, Weasley.” He straightened himself up. “I really like your sister. And we’ve been together three months now, and I’d like to keep seeing her. But I also don’t want to keep it secret from you anymore.” He shrugged. “I dunno. If you can’t trust your best friend to treat your sister right, who can ya trust?”

Percy narrowed his eyes a moment, turning over Oliver’s words in his mind. He had a point.

“You know if you hurt her, I know plenty of spells, right? And I’m not exactly going to punish myself for breaking any rules?”

Oliver nodded earnestly. “Yeah, yeah I know.” He gave Percy a small smack on the back. “We’re good then?”

With a sigh, Percy nodded. “We’re good.” He smiled at Oliver, the two of them officially lost in their own world.

Back on the bed, there came a small sigh. “Merlin, I wish we’d just kept this a secret.”

[fickle-tiction]

You’re Dead.

“Clark, I swear to God--hngh.” Bruce slammed his own face down into the mattress to hide his smile, despite Clark’s earlier teasing about having x-ray vision.

Bruce was stretched out on his stomach in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, having just gotten out of the shower. Clark was sitting (more like hovering) on Bruce’s thighs, and he was supposed to be giving Bruce a back massage, but a few minutes ago he started tracing some of the scars on Bruce’s back with his lips. Bruce swore up and down that he only squeaked because Clark caught him off guard, but that didn’t explain every subsequent embarrassing noise he’s made.

“Something wrong?” Clark really had that innocent act down to a science. He actually sounded concerned, the bastard. 

“You’re-” Bruce huffs when Clark drags his lips over an old bullet wound on his left shoulder blade. “-not doing it-” He clamps down on a shriek as Clark licks a delicate line across his lower back and around his side, thanking every God he can think of that the mattress prevents Clark from following it all the way around to his stomach. “-hard enough.” It comes out breathy, as though they’re doing more than goofing around like a couple of love-sick idiots. 

“You want me to do it harder?” Clark’s tone set off all sorts of warning bells in Bruce’s head, but before he could protest Clark added his fingers into the mix. “I can do it harder.” Bruce wanted to protest, both at the tickling and at the double entendre, but Clark wasted no time in dragging blunt nails over the delicate web of scars on Bruce’s back.

Bruce tried to hold out. He really did. He made it about 30 seconds before the laughter exploded out of him as he tried to army crawl his way out from under Clark. “NO!” He collapsed on the bed when Clark seized the opportunity to dance his fingers up to Bruce’s exposed armpits, gently massaging the muscle just under them.

“I’m just doing what you asked, B.” Clark’s fingers were trapped in Bruce’s armpits and wiggling like mad. 

“Get out, Get out, Get out.” Bruce laughed, trying his hardest to raise his arms so Clark would stop. Naturally, every time he tried Clark would tickle faster and cause him to cackle and snap his arms back down.

“Is there another spot you would prefer?” Clark asked, slowing his fingers down so Bruce could at least try to answer.

“Ohohoh my God, Just go ba-hahah-ack to the kissing!” Bruce practically melted into the bed when Clark took pity on him and pulled his hands out of his armpits. 

Clark started spidering his fingers over Bruce’s shoulder blades, and the reaction was almost instant. Frantic giggles started pouring out of The Gotham Bat and Clark audibly gasped, shocked to his very core. 

“Holy. Shit.” Clark whispered, gently dragging the tips of his nails over the expanse of Bruce’s back, chasing the emerging goosebumps with glee.

“Cla-hahaha-ark ple-hehehehe-please!” Bruce pleaded, squealing when Clark tickled just beneath his shoulder blades. He buried his face into the mattress again as more giggles spilled out, heat creeping up his neck when he heard Clark coo.

Clark finally took pity on him when Bruce stopped babbling and gave himself over to the laughter. He planted one final kiss at the small of Bruce’s back, satisfied when Bruce jolted with a stuttering laugh. As soon as he got off Bruce’s legs Bruce rolled over so he could level a glare at Clark. His face was flushed pink, he had crinkles around his eyes from all that laughter, and his hair was starting to curl at the ends because he didn’t have a chance to style it after his shower. He was, in a word, adorable. He would also murder Clark if he ever said that out-loud. 

“You.” Clark leaned forward and planted a kiss on Bruce’s cheek, despite the death glare. “Are.” Kiss on the other cheek. “Perfect.” Kiss on the forehead.

“You.” Bruce shoved at Clark’s chest, and Clark allowed himself to be pushed back onto the bed. “Are.” Bruce swung a leg over Clark’s waist to straddle him. “Dead.” 

[scaryscarecrows]

Ownership

Arkham City is the latest bad idea in a long, long line of bad ideas. Jason’s really not sure why, exactly, this was allowed to happen (well, money, but still), but it was and it’s making keeping tabs on the Batman a lot harder.

But Jason’s not here for the Bat tonight. He’s here because of the very persistent rumors that something’s wrong with Joker. Morbidly, he’d like to know. Practically, he needs to know; Joker, out of all the freaks in here, is likely to intervene in any of Jason’s plans. His obsession with Batman makes him a dark horse, and while Jason is inclined to kill him, that operation must be handled delicately. Joker’s the sick sort of bastard to booby-trap himself and if Jason never gets another faceful of laughing gas, it will be too soon.

Joker’s hideout is not hard to find. Even a complete fucking moron with no eyes and no ears would find it. It’s quiet tonight, only a few guards and–thank God–no sign of Harley. The guards go down easy, no bullets required, and soon enough he’s slipping into Sionis’ old mill.

…

Huh.

Penguin’s got a big sonofabitch on his payroll now, with one arm. One half of a pair of conjoined twins, apparently. He hadn’t realized the twin had come here. Somehow, the sigh of a ginormous clown is…a lot scarier than it should be. He’s just gonna leave that guy alone. He’s not here for him anyway, he’s just here for a little investigation. He’s even in civvies, to blend in a little better.

Creak.

He hears it too late; before he can turn, there’s a wire wrapping around his throat and pulling, bringing him to the ground and digging into his skin and he can’t breathe–

“Baby boy!”

Nononononononononononono–

Joker leans over him. Flesh is peeling off his skull and there’s pustules and he stinks like somethin’ Croc threw up. But dark spots are dancing in Jason’s vision now and all he can think is, I don’t wanna die here, please–

All at once, the wire loosens and Joker’s straddling him, those purple leather-gloved fingers stroking the brand lovingly.

“I’ve missed you!” He cackles, and it quickly turns into a nasty cough. Jason’s just frozen, gasping for breath and caught in a loop of don’t make him mad don’t make him mad. “Naughty, naughty, running away like that! But now you’re heeeere again, with meeeee.”

NO!

Jason elbows him the face, bursting a pustule and peeling a chunk of skin off. He intends to follow it by clawing the rest of the bastard’s face off, but Joker’s stronger than he looks, even now, and he lunges forward with one arm pressed against Jason’s throat. The other hand opens a switchblade and traces it under his eye first, then down towards his lips, and then back up again–

–and cuts the brand back open.

It’s not fully healed. Jason’s not sure it would matter. He can’t tell if the pain is physical, psychological, or both. It doesn’t matter, anyway: Joker draws the bloody knife back with a wide, wide smile, wipes the blade across Jason’s lips, and tucks it away.

“You’re mine,” he rasps. “Don’t ever forget that, Todders.”

Jason swallows. Old conditioning is pushing him to submit, to nod his head and whisper yes sir, m’sorry, sir, please don’t do it again.

The Arkham Knight, however, isn’t having being a goddamn chew toy. And that’s the side that wins out.

Mostly.

He brings his knee up to the bastard’s crotch and takes advantage of the immediate recoil to shove him to the side, scramble to his feet, and run.

He’ll tell himself, later, that he let the bastard live so he could die slowly and painfully. He might even believe it, after a while. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that he’s not going back, he’s not doing that again.

He can’t live through that again.

THE END

[freedfromthegalactichivemind]

Ok as someone with passing knowledge of She-Ra calling Entrapdak the Reylo does not. make it sound good unless you mean people THOUGHT it was like Reylo

I mean the latter. What I mean is people hating the ship so much that the fury broke fandom-containment and it all looked weird to the people not in the fandom, regardless of how poorly thought out this enemies to lovers thing...was? I mean, over in Trigun fandom, I LOATHE "Plantcest" - (sometimes called "KV") - it's a twin bother incest ship. I don't write essays about it or try to get people to stop shipping it or pretend that people are bad people for having what I think is a weird fiction-kink. I just... block tag and ignore. If you only have passing knowledge of Spop, here's the skinny: Entrapdak is basically a villain-ship. It's a pair of villains who respect each other and admire each other's work cackling it up as mad scientists, basically. It's not a hero loves villain thing - not even trying. The native fandom LOVES to compare it to Gomez and Morticia from The Addams Family. They are a pair of morally-dubious weirdos (and family! If you count Entrapta's robot that she built and Hordak's little clone-baby failed-experiment spy). Princess Entrapta starts out with the Good Guys (TM) until an accident happens and she's left for dead in the Fright Zone. She becomes enamored with the advanced technology of the Horde, as she a Chaotic Neutral type more interested in SCIENCE! than ethics. She mistakenly thinks that her friends didn't want her anymore and abandoned her on purpose, so she might as well make new friends in a new environment. By happenstance, she winds up meeting the Horde's mysterious Dark Lord Leader in THE most hilarious "Pinky and the Brain" moment and they decide to SCIENCE! together. And then Big Bad Dark Lord Hordak slowly shows his vulnerabilities and essentially becomes humanised to the audience. He's evil, but he's not pure evil. He has some interesting motivations, and in many ways is the victim of where he comes from. And then the Big Bad Ultra-Villain Horde Prime, who is made of Bastard comes in. (No one likes him. All shipping with hims in the fandom is essentially people's weird kinks with OCs or straight up crack).

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hi! I would like to make a request and please take your time. I really love your work and was hoping if you can make a scenario with a bit of nsfw where the ror are caught making out with reader and was about to be intimate with them but was cockblock. Bonus if it was Adam, Zeus, or Odin who caught them. Thank you so much 💛

Gods - Hades, Poseidon, Thor, Hercules and Buddha.

Humans - Kojiro, Quin, and Tesla.

-Your breathing was labored as you tilted your head back, a soft mewl of pleasure leaving your lips as (Love’s) lips nibbled against your neck, at your pulse point.

-Your hand stretched down his back, scratching against his bare back, his shirt long gone, drawing a soft groan from his own lips, the slight pain feeling good.

-(Love) was nestled between your legs, his hips against your own, both of you still half clothed, as your ‘cuddling’ session had quickly turned into a heavy make out session which was quickly leading to something a bit more~

-The bedroom door opened suddenly and you and (Love) pulled apart, eyes wide to see (Zeus/Odin/Adam)!!

-Hades/Poseidon/Hercules- Instantly Zeus was grinning brightly, teasing his brother/son, “Ooh~ getting some action are you?!” you were bright red, trying to hide behind your lover who was using his body to cover your own nude top, glaring at the flirty god, “Get out!!” Zeus cackled loudly, “Oh~ don’t be mean! It’s nothing I’ve never seen before!” Zeus instantly froze as a weapon (bident/trident/club) was launched at him and he was quick to run out, “Nice boobs Y/N!” your love was instantly chasing after him, “You bastard!!” while you were curled up on the bed, trying to suffocate yourself into unconsciousness by hugging a pillow tightly.

-Thor/Buddha- Odin couldn’t help but smirk, folding his arms as you grabbed a pillow to hide your nude top, flushed bright red as (Love) turned, looking annoyed at the taller god.

            -Thor- “What do you need, father?” Odin just chuckled, “I can see that you’re busy at the moment, come find me later.” Thor scowled lightly, standing, as the mood was now ruined, “What do you need?” Odin glanced at you, seeing you trying to hide as the two men stepped out to discuss things.

            -Buddha- Scowled darkly, facing Odin who was smirking, finding the situation amusing, “What do you want?” Odin just chuckled, seeing you so shy and seeing Buddha mad, “I was looking for Y/N, but I can see that you’re a bit busy at the moment. I’ll come back later.” Buddha threw a pillow at him, missing Odin, “Come back never!” Odin laughed loudly, finding it amusing while the moment was ruined.

-Kojiro/Qin Shi Huang/Nikola- Adam instantly cracked his knuckles, his eyes shifting as he activated his ability, “So…you have chosen death?” (Love) was quick to throw a blanket over the top of you, covering you completely as Adam charged, shouting at (Love) for daring to touch you in such a way. The two men ran out, one being chased by the other as you sighed, uncovering yourself before you tipped over, hugging a pillow close, hoping Adam wouldn’t kill (Love).

[desired-fantasy-writings]

Now That's How You Beat A Downa! - (Bobby X Female Reader)

Requested by: Nobody

Warnings: Murder and violence.. someeeewhat descriptive wording of the said violence.

Readers Gender: Female

Fanfic Type: Oneshot

Fanfic Genre: ehh idk, after said violence gets fluffy after

Word Count: 2,117

"Lovely day for it miss!"

"You look lovely today miss!"

You felt yourself blush from the random compliments you got from citizens around town as you walked down the street. Everyone there loved telling each other compliments. You weren't one of those people, when really you hated them. Not because you were a downer, goodness no. You just got flustered easily and didn't know how to take compliments too well.

You see, you has always been a shy women since you were a small pea, and that got some people suspicious because of it. Even the bobbies thought something was up. Of course you explained to the best of your ability that you were definitely not a downer, and never will be.

You were quite a gentle woman and never yelled at anyone, even if you were defending anyone. You thought discussing the problem is better then yelling at each other. Your parents taught you that from a young age.

You worked at a retirement home in Maiden Home. You always got along with older folk anyway, so why not get a job involved around it? Even if the job didn't pay well you still enjoyed the job very much. The con of it all was some of the old ladies would tease you from time to time, making you flustered and you would start stuttering like mad. They didn't mean no harm and you knew that too well. They were just having their fun.

Speaking of Maiden Home you were currently heading to Maiden Home to work. You lived in Wellington Wells, so you needed to walk to work which you didn't mind at all. Exercise is important after all! You hummed as you walked through the streets, smiling and saying "lovely day for it!" to people that walked past you. You were all fine and dandy until you felt someone sneak behind you and grab your arm harshly, putting something sharp against your neck. You screamed in fear and people around you gasped at the scene.

"Nobody move!" The stranger announced to the small crowd- "Or else this youngling gets to be beheaded!" The stranger shouted out, gripping your arm with his mostly likely disgusting nails. Whilst you hiss in pain you could see the crowd frantically panicking like any other citizen would do.

"Downa! Someone get the police!"

"HELP! HELP! THAT POOR DEARY IS IN GRAVE DANGA! SOME ONE CALL THE CONSTABLES!"

Most of the panicked citizens ran away in fear, leaving you with mostly no help whatsoever. Seeing this didn't make you reassured you wouldn't survive this situation. God you wished you could take more joy right about now... No dammit there's no time to worry about that. You just couldn't stand here and do nothing you'd be dead in the next matter of seconds!

In the moment you thought over what you could do to escape the downers grasp. Your best bet right now was to kick him right in the baby maker. All you needed was a distraction to make this work. To your luck though you heard blown whistles come from the right of you. You sigh in relief seeing the bobbies arrive.

"Ya downa bastard let the lass go or else!" One of the shorter bobbies threatened the downer with his baton in hand.

The older downer rolled his eyes not really caring for the bobbies threat, cackling mentally. "Not until you let the gates open for the rest of us. We want our freedom back!"

The group of bobbies didn't give two fucks about what the downer had to say and ignored his "deal". It didn't mean fuck all to the blokes. All they cared about was how to help get the filthy downer off of you without him hurting you in anyway. They thought over their options carefully, but they had to be fast. Luckily for you they helped your plan into action.

Bingo. A distraction.

With the newfound bravery you smirk ever wider

lifting your leg to kick the man's baby maker, making him cry out in pain and drop the knife he held you hostage with. You go to pick it up while he gasp in pain, running toward the man to kick him down while he's weak, aimed the knife into his forehead without thinking with all your strength. The man scream in agony trying to push you off but you only continued to stab his head that was gushing of blood and brain tissue

The bobbies lowered their batons and stared in shock of what you just did seeing the massacre that just occurred. You stop after a bit breathing heavily throwing the knife to the side standing up kicking the dead bastard that laid before you.

You took a moment to pause to look at the scene below you. You felt... almost thrilled? You thought anyone would after killing a downer, but it wasn't even for that reason. A new sense of blood thirst it felt like. Whatever it was you felt wrong in every way possible, and now your whole dress and mask were ruined by blood and brain matter.

You forgot the bobbies were even with you in the first place til you hear this coming toward you. You had this feeling in your mind that you were in trouble, but how could you be when this was how things were here? Turning around you quickly tried to come up with an explanation to what you just done.

"A-Alright Constables I-I'm-" You stuttered out in fear, lifting your hands up. "I'm never like this- I don't know-"

"Blimey! Now that's how you beat a downa lady!" One of the bobbies exclaimed approaching you. It was the shorter Bobby. He seemed too thrilled to see the blood massacre to your liking. Noticing the downers body he crouched down to look at the downers now destroyed forehead. "Whoa you'd need a lot of strength to do that... impressive." He points out like he was complementing you.

You didn't know how to take it to be honest.

"That was brilliant! Roight in the head there good job we can take it from here!" Another bobby complemented on your "fine" work patting your shoulder with a wild grin. All you do is laugh sheepishly, stepping away from the bobbies.

"Thank you thank you my good sir's, but I must head home now take care!" You tried laughing it off and walk off but you bump into one of the taller bobbies chest by accidental.

"Sorry there missy you alroight?" The kind Constable asked.

You turn around quickly and all you see was the uniform of the Constable. Backing up you could already tell he was half your height just by looking at the attractive Constable, a somewhat familiar Constable that had such an lovely voice too. You swore you met this Constable before, but you couldn't remember his name.

The Constable notices the remaining blood on your clothes. He knew he couldn't do much to clean it expect your mask, so he bent down on his knee.

"Sorry if this seems off putting, but you got some... blood on ya mask still. Ya mind if I wipe it at least some of it off?" He asks kindly pulling out a cloth.

What a kind gesture from a man such as himself. He probably had better things to do then this but here he was being ever so kind so how could you deny the gesture from one of the men that technically help you save your life? With hesitancy you allow him;

"O-Of course Constable! I have a few hours left till I got to go to work anyways." You explain, reassuring the officer of the law. "And it's... kind of hard for me to see anyway, so thank you."

The Constable chuckles from your response,  starting to wipe your mask. "Of course."

He tried as hard as he could to clean it, but a simple rag wouldn't do much. As long as you could see that'd be enough for you to get home safely in his mind. Whilst wiping down the blood off your mask he looked past you to see the downers body being carried by one of his colleague. You saw him cringe a bit from this.

"Jesus, you... really killed him real good aye?" The Constable joked with you to ease your nerves, but you decide not to respond. He could tell him joking about it wasn't going to help so he moved onto something else.

"So tell me miss."

You turn your gaze into his blu- wait. They were brown. Interesting. His eyes were bloody brown. How rare to see something like that on a Constable. Brown was a much gentle kinder colour then the regular piercing blue eyes of the majority of the Constables had.

"I'm surprised you pulled that off. From afar it looked like the downa had a tight grip on ya."

You rubbed your arm shyly with a chuckle "Well Constable, I saw an opportunity to strick when he got distracted by you and your lads. Simple enough."

He hummed at your answer, nodding. "That makes sense. You're one tough cookie when ya can be shy bee."

You feel your cheeks start to flush from the silly nickname brushing it off like you didn't hear it.

"What is your name anyways? You seem familiar to me. I just can't quite remember..." The Constable asks curiously tilting his head. He sounded genuine.

"It's Y/N, my good sir, and thank you." You introduce yourself with a smile.

The Constable seemed to perk up hearing your name. He smiled before removing the rag off your mask. It seemed like in no time at all at least half the blood was cleaned off to his surprise. "Y/N... oh that's right now I remember. You work at Maiden Home yea?"

"That's indeed right Constable, but I'm curious as to how you guessed?" You ask him teasingly, and he seems to get a little defensive.

"I ain't no stalker miss I promise. I just overhead the old ladies talking about ya, is all, and from some of the lads too. They all say you're really kind and of course they're right about that." He says quickly in his defensive, feeling flustered, but all you do is roll your eyes at him.

"You really think my first thought was that you were a stalker? Oh please." Your attitude turned sarcastic seeing his reaction. It was almost too cute not to mess with him- "Word can get around sometimes, but I didn't know such good things were being said about me how charming!"

The Constable sighs in relief now standing up, nodding. "You're a real cheeky one Y/N, but due to my line of work I must continue from here; but not without returning you home safe and sound first with the news of downas running about today." He presents his arm to you leaning forward. "I don't think I can handle seeing you in harms way again ma'am, and I really don't want you to go to work looking like bloody marry all day. Since I know people will freak out seeing your clothes all drenched I know a safer route to get ya back home."

You were shocked at such an offer. It was an offer you didn't want to refuse as you felt safe and comfortable with this particular Constable. You reach an arm out to wrap your hand around his arm with a chuckle.

"I'll gladly take your offer Constable thank you so much, but you really don't have to do this."

"Oh but I want to ma'am. It's my job to protect the citizens of this fine city after all." The Constable states as you two began to walk toward the back of the city. It would be a bit before this egging question got the best of you, but you just had to ask.

"This might sound a bit intruding, but you also look familiar to me as well, and I'd like to know the Constable that helped with my mask. What's ya name Constable?" You ask in a genuine way, you didn't want to seem rude after all.

The Constable then stopped to look down at you with a cheeky smile. "It's Constable Tommy ma'am."

You couldn't help but smile wider from his smile. It was ever so charming as you two began walking again. "Constable Tommy... a lovely name for a man in service."

You couldn't tell, but the Constable began to flush under his mask from your lovely complement, looking away from this unannounced feeling in his heart.

"Righto ma'am, righto..."