#coming to terms with falling in love with your killer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

harrywavycurly · 8 months ago

Text

Bruised Knuckles and Baked Goods

Pairing: Killer!Harry x Wife!reader

Masterlist: Here

A/N: This is a little follow up to Lasagna Casserole, where your loving husband Harry is a serial killer and you have no clue, you can find that here if you haven’t read it but even if you don’t read that first you’ll be able to read this and not be missing anything. Just like the last one you won’t get any actual descriptions of Harry killing anyone, you’ll just get little glimpses of things he uses in the process✨

TW: Harry is a serial killer, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, language, slight controlling behavior.

Summary: You asked Harry to stop by the store on his way home because you need to start baking cookies for your neighborhood’s fall festival but you have no idea that he also made a pit stop somewhere else resulting in him coming home late and with some damage done to his hands✨

Harry feels himself instantly start to relax as he pulls into the driveway, the muscles in his shoulders and neck don’t seem to ache as much as they did just a few minutes ago when he catches a glimpse of the light from the lamp on the end table in living room peeking through the curtains letting him know you’re still awake. It’s as if he can finally let out the breath he feels like he’s been holding all night as he puts the car in park before shutting it off, he allows himself a moment to finally look at his hands as they grip the steering wheel.

He’s been avoiding actually looking at them the whole drive home because he hasn’t exactly come to terms with what he’s done quite yet. It’s not that he regrets it or anything but Harry normally isn’t one to do things without a well thought out plan and the help of his longtime partner in crime Mitch, who he knows won’t be happy when he finds out what Harry did and how he went about doing it.

His knuckles on his left hand are red and already starting to bruise while a few have minor cuts on them while his right hand seems to be the one with the most damage, being the one he favors when opting to use his fists as his weapon of choice. There’s a small gash that he managed to get to stop bleeding but he knows it’ll need to get cleaned and bandaged while the skin on his knuckles is red and raw, it’s more stiff and he can already tell it’s going to be a bit swollen and sore tomorrow but nothing he can’t handle. He lifts his hands from the steering wheel and flexes them a few times as a slight smirk fights to form on his face as his mind starts to replay a moment from the evening, but Harry quickly shakes his head not allowing himself to relive it, not yet at least.

Right now all he wants or really needs to do is grab the bag from the passenger seat and head inside so he can see you, the person who makes all the things he’s done during the day or the night in this case seem so unimportant the moment you smile at him because for Harry making you happy will always be the most important thing he ever does. Tonight that meant him stopping at the store on his way home for some eggs and a bag of sugar, does Harry know what you need these things for at eight at night? No, but you’re his wife and also the love of his life so he doesn’t really care about the reason, he just said okay and now here he is with a plastic bag in his hand as he walks through the front door.

“Baby?” He calls out as he drops his keys in the little bowl on the table by the door while he slips his boots off leaving them next to your heels he saw you put on to wear to work this morning. “Sweetheart?” He says as he looks in the living room but just finds an empty couch making him raise an eyebrow as he stands there and takes in just how silent the house sounds.

Harry heads towards the kitchen so he can place the eggs in the fridge and put the sugar on the counter before he continues his search for you. He places a hand on his hip as his other rests on top of the kitchen table, he stands there a moment and just listens, he smiles when he hears the faint sound of humming coming from down the hall. Harry now knows exactly where you’re at and when he looks at his watch on his wrist he can take a guess at what you’re doing, he heads down the hall and stops just a few steps away from the master bedroom where you have the door ajar letting him get the smallest glimpse of you from where he’s standing in the hallway. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed quietly singing to yourself and Harry knows by the way you’re rubbing your hands together that you’re in the middle of applying your lotion, a nightly routine that if he was home when he was suppose to be you’d let him help you with because he loves any excuse to get to touch you.

“Hey baby.” His voice is sweet and not too loud so that it doesn’t startle you as he opens the bedroom door and takes a step inside. He smiles at the grin that takes over your face when your eyes find his, before you can get off the bed Harry is crossing the room and gently placing a hand on the side of your face and giving you a sweet kiss on the lips.

“You’re late.” You mumble when Harry tries to pull away but you quickly reach up and grab onto his shirt pulling him back to you for another kiss.

“Sorry sweetheart.” He says between little pecks to your lips before you finally let him pull away enough so he can look at you, dropping his hand from the side of your face. “I got-”

“What happened?” Harry watches the smile fall from your face as he hears the immediate change in your voice, it’s no longer playful and flirty but now it’s laced with worry and confusion as you take his left hand in both of yours.

“Forgot my gloves at home.” It’s not a complete lie so Harry doesn’t feel as bad as he should when the words effortlessly slip out of his mouth while you tenderly run your soft fingers over the bruised knuckles of his hand.

“This is from the gym?” You question with a quirked brow because while you know your husband enjoys a good and often intense workout the damage to his hand seems a little extreme even for him.

“I had some issues I needed to work out.” He knows you won’t push for more details when he gives you his explanation, you know how he is and that sometimes Harry prefers to talk to a punching bag than to anyone else about what’s bothering him. Harry knows it’s wrong, to use this type of thing against you so he’ll make sure that later tonight when the two of you are in bed and he has you pulled tightly to his chest to tell you a little something that’s been bothering him, something that’ll make you feel as if he’s letting you in on why he felt the need to bust his knuckles up on a punching bag at the gym so that you’ll feel a bit better and not want to bring it up again.

“Let’s get you fixed up.” You say with a small smile as you look up at him and find he’s already looking at you with what can only be described as a look of pure love on his face.

“I don’t deserve you.” You playfully roll your eyes at his words and Harry has to act like he’s just being cute as he leans down and places a kiss to your forehead but he means it, he knows he doesn’t deserve you but he also knows he’s far too selfish to ever let you go. “I got your eggs and sugar by the way love. I put them in the kitchen.” He tells you as he takes a step back allowing you to stand up off the bed.

“Oh perfect I need to start making the cookies for the bake sale at the fall festival this weekend-did you remember to tell Mitch about it this time? You know he loves the pumpkin carving contest and he didn’t get to come last year because-”

“Because I got the dates mixed up.” He finishes your sentence for you with a chuckle as he follows you into the master bathroom, the real reason Mitch didn’t get to come last year was because he was busy digging two holes in the middle of the woods two hours away but you didn’t need to know that.

“So did you tell him? Is he going to come?” Harry adores how excited you get over things like the neighborhood’s fall festival, you have a certain sparkle in your eyes as you turn to look at him while you motion for him to sit on the edge of the bathtub.

“Baby…” Harry doesn’t miss the way you completely ignore him as you just turn around and head to grab the first aide kit under Harry’s sink, he knows there’s something you’re not telling him about why you’re so curious if his long haired bestfriend will be attending the festival or not.

“I’m thinking about making chocolate chip cookies for the bake sale but is that too boring?” You ask once you’re standing in front of Harry with the first aide kit placed next to his thigh on the edge of the tub. You gently take his right hand in yours and he watches the way you pout at the sight of the damage he’s done to himself. “Or maybe snickerdoodle? That’s a very fall sort of cookie isn’t it?” Harry gives you a smile when you look at him, he knows you want to say something about the gash and ask how could he have gotten that from a punching bag but instead you just keep going on about cookies.

“It looks worst than it actually is.” He whispers taking your mind off of cookies for a moment as you begin cleaning his knuckles with an alcohol wipe. You just give him a look that makes him let out a chuckle because it’s obvious you don’t believe him. “I think Mitch likes snickerdoodle cookies.” You smile at this bit of information making Harry happy that he’s able to slightly distract you from the fact he doesn’t even flinch when you begin applying some cream to his knuckles so the open gashes don’t get infected.

“Really? Oh that’ll be perfect because Niall-” You stop mid sentence when Harry’s hand slightly tenses as the name of your coworker tumbles out of your mouth. “I’m sorry honey I’m almost done.” Your voice matches the softness of your touches as you begin to bandage his hand, Harry is aware you think his tenseness is due to the pain in his hands but in reality it’s because he has put the pieces together of why you want Mitch to attend the festival this weekend.

“Niall will be there? He doesn’t even live in this neighborhood.” He watches your brows pinch together as you focus on where your hands are gently pressing over his knuckles making the bandages stick in place.

“Mitch doesn’t either.” You state matter of factly making Harry just raise a shoulder in a shrug as a smile creeps onto his face.

“Is my lovely wife trying to set my best mate up with the nosey bloke she shares a cubical with?” You shoot him a playful glare as you reach over and close the first aide kit after putting the left over bandages inside. “Because if she is then maybe she’d like to know that Mitch isn’t really looking for a relationship at the moment.” He adds as he looks over as you grab the kit to put it back under the sink but Harry just takes it from your hands and places it back down next to him so he can take your hands in his, he internally groans at how he can’t really feel how soft your hands are in his due to the way you wrapped his knuckles.

“You weren’t looking for anything serious when we met either remember?” You ask as you let Harry place your hands on his shoulders while his grab hold of your hips as you stand between his legs. “You didn’t even want to go on a date with me at first because you were so against being in a relationship.” You tease as Harry just looks up at you with a smile as you take one of your hands and brush some hair out of his face making him lean into your touch when you leave your hand holding the side of his face.

“You’ve got it all wrong baby.” You raise an eyebrow making Harry just turn his head so he can place a kiss to the inside of your hand that you have on his face. “It wasn’t that I was against being in a relationship. It was the fact I just knew the moment I went on one date with you I’d never want to be without you. So I was just really fucking nervous. I didn’t want to mess it all up.” He admits making your eyes go a bit glassy at his sweet words, something Harry’s always been good at is telling you exactly how he feels about you no matter how sappy or corny it makes him sound.

“I can’t imagine you being nervous because of me.” Harry just laughs as he pulls you closer to him while your hand goes from the side of his face back to his shoulder.

“You still make me nervous sweetheart.” His hands give your hips a little squeeze as you look down at him. “You don’t even know how often I just find myself staring at you wondering how the hell I ended up being the one you wanted to spend your life with.” Harry brings one of his hands up to gently cup your face, the bandages feeling a little rough against your skin but not uncomfortable. “But I’m so happy you picked me because I can’t imagine loving anyone else but you.” You blink a few times to try to hold back the tears that want to fall as Harry pulls your face down towards his making your lips to meet.

“You’re so rude.” You mumble as you pull away and Harry hears you sniffle as you bring your hands up and wipe under your eyes to catch the tears before they can make it down your cheeks. “Making me cry after I just bandaged your hands for you.” Harry rubs his thumb over your cheek as you let out a sigh.

“M’sorry baby.”

“It’s okay I still love you.”

“That’s good because I’d be a bit of a wreck if you didn’t.”

“But to make it up to me you can just make sure Mitch and Niall meet on Saturday-oh and be nice to Niall please. He’s a nice guy and the two of you have a lot in common.” Harry just nods making you give him a smile that makes the thought of having to play nice with your extremely talkative and slightly annoying coworker worth it but if Harry’s being honest with himself he knows he would do anything you ask of him if it would make you even the tiniest bit happy.

“Thank you. I’ll go heat up your dinner while you take a shower.” With that you lean down and place a kiss to Harry’s cheek as he slides his hand away from your face and places it in his lap, he gives your hip one last squeeze before he lets you go so you can turn around and head out of the bathroom.

“Mitch is going to be so thrilled.” He whispers to himself with a laugh once he knows you’re out of the bedroom and headed down the hall towards the kitchen as he runs a hand through his hair.

“She wants me to meet who?” Mitch asks with a raised brow as he looks at Harry who is currently digging around in his duffle bag for a roll of duct tape.

“Niall her cubical mate at work he’s going to be at the fall festival this Saturday and she figured that would be a good place to-”

“I don’t want to.” Mitch interjects as he adjusts the fit of the gloves on his hands, Harry roll his eyes at how whiny his bestfriend’s voice is over the subject of meeting someone new.

“That’s cool but I also didn’t ask if you wanted to or not.” Harry states as he finally finds the tape, he grabs it and hands it to Mitch before zipping his duffle bag closed. “It’s not like you have to date him just meet him and don’t be a dick about it.” He explains while closing his trunk so he can begin putting his gloves on.

“But I don’t want to meet-what the fuck happened to your hands?” Harry looks over at Mitch whose eyes are glued to the bandages on his knuckles. “Did you get into a fight?” He asks as he watches Harry put a glove on his right hand, slightly struggling to get the leather to fit properly over the bandages.

“No.” Mitch’s hands fall to his sides in a huff as he glares at Harry. “He never got the chance to hit me back.” He gives Mitch a quick glance to see his reaction and as he suspected he’s not happy because Harry has a feeling his friend knows exactly who it was that gave Harry the bruised knuckles.

“It was Todd wasn’t it? You beat the shit out of him by yourself? We had a plan Harry why didn’t you just-”

“I saw his car in the parking lot of a bar on the way home from the store and I just-I reacted in a way I shouldn’t have but I don’t regret it. I know we had a plan but now it’s dealt with and we can move on.” Mitch’s eyes go wide as the thoughts of how exactly Harry dealt with Todd begin to swirl around in his head. “Relax I didn’t kill him okay? I just maybe broke a bone or two.” He explains making Mitch let out a sigh as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“You beat him up in a bar parking lot and broke a few bones? Jesus man that’s not cool what if someone saw you?”

“No one saw me besides Todd and he won’t say anything.”

“He saw you? Like your face?”

“Yes but it’s fine.”

“Harry this is very far from fine. He could have you arrested for assault and you’re just walking around with the evidence on your hands Mr. Forensic Files.” Harry shoots Mitch a hard glare as he finishes putting his gloves on but Mitch just stands there and glares at him right back because this isn’t how the two of them go about doing things, they have plans for a reason and it’s to avoid possible issues like being seen and the fact Harry is so relaxed about the whole thing isn’t sitting right with Mitch at all.

“Todd knows it was me who broke his jaw and probably a few ribs last night and he knows why. Now I know you think he could go to the police and get me arrested but he won’t because when I pulled him out of his car he wasn’t alone and who he was with was someone you have to pay to get the privilege to hang out with if you get what I’m saying.” Harry takes a step towards Mitch as he explains why he’s not worried about Todd and places a hand on his shoulder so he can give it a not so gentle squeeze.

“You broke his jaw?” Mitch asks making Harry just shrug as he releases his hold on Mitch’s shoulder.

“Well yeah what else was I supposed to do? I wasn’t going to just cut out his tongue in a bar parking lot and get blood all over the place.” Mitch lets out a chuckle as Harry bends down to grab the backpack by Mitch’s feet. “Besides he also thinks we work with computers in some company’s basement for their I.T department and a guy like Todd isn’t about to let anyone think he got his shit rocked by a computer nerd.” He states with a smirk as he places a strap of the backpack over his shoulder, Mitch can’t help but just stare at Harry for a moment before he looks behind him at the house of the man they are about to go deal with.

“And this was all because he said your wife’s casserole was dry?” Harry ignores the teasing tone of Mitch’s voice as he asks the question while the two of them head up the driveway to the man’s house.

“Yeah so imagine what I’d do to you if you try to tell her no you’re not interested in meeting Niall or you don’t want to come to the festival this weekend.” Mitch rolls his eyes as the empty threat because he knows Harry wouldn’t ever lay a hand on him unless it was absolutely necessary. “She’s making snickerdoodle cookies for the bake sale but if you agree to meeting Niall I’ll have her give you some for free.” Harry knows that the long haired man standing behind him has very few weaknesses but one of them is baked goods especially ones you make.

“Fucking asshole.” Mitch mumbles as he pulls his hair back into a low ponytail right as they make it to the front door. “Better be at least a dozen and this Niall dude better not be a douche.”

“I hear he’s quite nice and uh what’s the word? Oh a bit chatty.”

“I hate you.”

“But you love her so you’ll eat your cookies and be nice.” Is all Harry says before he knocks on the door signaling that their conversation is over and they are about to start their work so they need to be focused on the task at hand, which just so happens to be ending the life of the man who is about the answer the door.

426 notes · View notes

larcenywrites · 10 months ago

Note

how do creed/logan act if they find out their partner is expecting?

Tbh I think they would know even before their partner 😅 super senses and all, yk? So I went with that angle! It’s nothing special, but I could always do something more fleshed out for each one later on. Maybe like how I did my Tony Stark family stuff 🤔

Reactions to Pregnancy

Logan Howlett x Reader

Victor Creed x Reader

Warnings: pregnancy mentions obviously | like two sexual references but they’re more on the mild side

Logan

Terrified. He probably picks up on it before even you, or, at least, before you tell him, but tbh he might be the one to tell you 😅 that nose never lies, but pregnancy probably still doesn’t really cross his mind at first… it’s when he suddenly hears an extra heartbeat nearby, and a rapid one at that, that he actually has to connect the dots. And yet, he still won’t bring it up! He’s nervous, a little more tense than usual, but for now he’s probably choosing to, ah… not ignore it per se? Maybe he’s trying to come to terms with it himself before you find out… by ignoring it!

But he can’t ignore it anyway because now when hears you trying to sneak up on him from behind, it’s not just you anymore. It’s quite literally following him around and keeping him up at night, and maybe hearing a quick pulse naturally puts him on edge anyway. He’s probably damn near falling apart! Is he terrified? Yes. Anxious? Yes. Low key wondering how he could let this happen?? Kinda! But then again, he is the one who ditches the condom like once a month in favor of his little kink… He was already beating himself up a little about being a terrible choice for a father, but now he’s really cursing himself because he of all people should know actions have consequences!!!

Not to mention: What if he passes on his mutation?? Shit, there might be yet another genetically perfect killer on the loose soon!

With a sigh, he finds himself tapping a finger or two on your lower tummy in thought. He knows that, regardless, he’s doing everything he can to keep you- both of you- safe. And all this stress ain’t for nothing— in fact, it’s already made him a little attached to that unnamed heartbeat!

You’re probably not gonna notice too much difference in his usual behavior other than he seems more tense and unfocused lately. He always tends to be the big spoon, he usually ends a day with rubs and nuzzles, he’s always tuned in to what you’re doing— what will be different though is him being more reluctant to leave for missions (probably a little huffy about it even), and a whole lot more cuddlier than usual the night before! And in the case that you’re a fellow x-men, it’s not out of the ordinary for him to keep an eye on you, but it is definitely weird for him to challenge the set plan just to stay by your side, and the pot is finally boiling over when he starts telling you that you can’t come on missions altogether… which probably leads to everybody arguing! Hell, you may still not even know you’re pregnant at this point, but Logan has to say it because otherwise he’s really looking like the bad guy here!

Minus the fifty questions you probably have for him, he is relieved that this whole pregnancy thing isn’t just on his shoulders now. But now that you do know, he’s definitely relieved that he can be a little more affectionate without being questioned! At some point he definitely ended up nuzzling under your shirt and has decided to just lie there for probably the rest of the evening with his very tiny baby 🥰

And come on, Logan loves the students! Even if it is in his own grumpy way! He really shouldn’t be so worried about being dad material 😘

Victor

Again, he probably picks up on it before you do, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he knows what he��s sensing! But what he does know is that you smell delightful, and all he finds himself doing that night he first notices is rubbing against your shoulder and nuzzling into your neck. It’s easy to just laugh off his spontaneous cat-like affections, and even easier to succumb to the licking and nipping without much thought 😘

It’s rather late one night when he’s coming home, and while he always aware of each pulse that should normally be around, there’s definitely a new one… He probably thinks it’s a rat that got in the wall or something at first! Now on the hunt and prowling around, he’s a tad confused when he’s led to your sleeping form in the bed. Just as his nose never lies, neither does his hearing! He’s not dumb, he knew exactly what it meant as soon as he made it to the bed.

Eh, honestly he’s probably more surprised it hasn’t happened sooner 😅 He’s probably wildly inconsistent with protection, definitely has a breeding kink anyway, and has probably taken the condom off without you even noticing before… Even so, he still definitely didn’t plan it! Well- probably.

Still flopped over you with a big ol arm over your waist and nuzzling into your neck, he’s probably purring way more than you’ve ever heard him purr before. Enough to wake you up at 4 in the morning! You’ll have to lift his big ol head from your chest to get his attention, and he’ll just outright tell you! He’s one of the best trackers in the world, so there’s no reason to doubt him… that and it’s not every occasion that you’ll see him kneading happily at the blankets!

Ah- maybe he has done… questionable things, both when it comes to family and not-family… But, really, there's no need to worry! This hellcat is quite fond of kids, so while you may be a little anxious over the sudden news, Victor is unfazed enough for the both of you! Besides, he’s more than capable of keeping both you and a kid safe, and he’s had plenty of challenges in his 200+ years, surely he can handle raising a kid. Plus, he has a kid or two out there that he didn’t raise himself, so he’s probably pretty excited about this one ;3 But he does kinda hope he passes down his mutation…

The only downside as far as behavior goes is he’s now ultra protective and nosey (not that you could ever hide anything from him anyway), and now he’s dragging home tons of trinkets and jewelry and blankets and maybe even an entire turkey one time 😅

446 notes · View notes

carn4g3 · 5 months ago

Note

Can you do a HC for Masky, Hoodie, Slenderman and X Virus pretty please?

Creepypasta Relationship HCs (3)

Characters: Bloody Painter, X-Virus, Nina the Killer & Slenderman x GN Reader

Summary: How they are in a relationship aka the most unhinged yet.

TWs: Descriptions of yandere behavior, kidnapping, possessiveness, stalking, brainwashing, isolation, and unhealthy relationships, mentions of murder, blood, and violence, & very brief mentions of sex.

Word Count: 3.4k (~700 to 900 each)

A/N: This is a combination of about three hc requests and I decided to throw in Helen for the hell (ha) of it. I've never technically written for any of these characters before, so I hope I'm able to do them justice!

Part 1 | 2

Bloody Painter

I don't know how many of y'all reading this have read the Night Shift (check my pinned post if you're interested), but Helen was originally supposed to be included as a love interest. I kind of ran out of ideas for how to write him and decided to scrap the idea... but we're fixing that now!

In terms of his appearance and even mental state, Helen is probably the most worthy to interact with the public. That certainly doesn't mean he likes to, though. He avoids social interaction like the plague, and any "friends" he's accumulated under Slender have been by mere chance, in his opinion.

His interest in you is a result of a similar random chance. You could be under Slender's control or not, it doesn't matter to him in the slightest. Helen finds himself most enraptured by your appearance; it's practically love at first sight. Unlike some of his other victims of choice, he sees you as his ultimate muse. Killing you would simply be a waste of all that you're worth, he needs to keep you to be his alone.

He'll stalk you a bit before he makes his first move. He just has to be sure that it's not a fluke that you're so interesting. At this point, he's already hooked, so it's only a matter of time before he makes his presence known. Helen is perfectly capable of approaching you normally, perhaps trying to get you to fall for him on your own, but that just takes so much time. He's surprisingly impatient and also incapable of being subtle. It's just easier if he whisks you away first and handles all the reciprocal stuff later.

I gave a lot of the others the benefit of the doubt that they wouldn't outright kidnap someone of their interests, but I just can't imagine Helen any other way.

Needless to say, your relationship is monogamous. Helen doesn't let you interact with others without his direct "supervision," and, even then, it's probably exclusively people he knows. Admittedly, he's not the best at establishing boundaries with his equally psychopathic friends, so they tend to just burst in regardless of his wishes. In the case that you have your own role under Slender, Helen will reluctantly let you out of his grip but only when needed.

Despite the pretty self-serving nature of his relationship with you, he eventually comes around to trying to capture your interests. It's no mystery that his infatuation stems from a need to express your beauty through any and all artistic forms he can master. He doesn't necessarily give these pieces to you, but they're constantly on display. You likely have your own room in whichever place he resides in, so Helen takes the liberty to decorate it with your own face and body. Even his own room is littered with additional drawings and paintings that he considers to be the best.

Quality time is the most clearly identifiable form of affection he demonstrates. Most of his artistic process involves sitting and staring at his reference (you) until he can get each feature, expression, and pose just right. Helen loves to just linger around you, not necessarily talking or doing anything with you, but rather watching. His blue eyes pierce into your soul in such an unsettling way that it might drive you to madness alone.

He's not actually a big fan of physical affection, but he initiates gestures like that anyway. Helen's knowledge of romantic relationships stems almost exclusively from a handful of romance novels and telenovelas, so he assumes physical touch is just a given in any relationship. Whether you're comfortable with it or not, he'll press a kiss to your face as a form of goodbye or cuddle up behind you when you sleep.

Helen's wardrobe is specifically curated to take into account every issue he has with certain fabrics and other textures against his skin. Since he sees you as a glorified pet, your clothing selection is equally as controlled. Not only can he look at you and not imagine that texture on his own skin, but he can also initiate physical affection as he pleases. On rare occasions, he'll give you an outfit for the sole purpose of drawing you in it. However, if you choose to wear it to avoid physical contact, you might find it missing rather quickly.

X-Virus

I'm not sure how long X-Virus has been around, but he was a bit of a new character for me when I re-entered the fandom a couple of years ago. So, my hcs for him are pretty fresh.

Like many of the others, I think he's fascinated with what he perceives as a "normal" life. He hardly opposes his murderous lifestyle, but rather finds a fascination in those who didn't go down the serial killer route. Do you not know how much easier everything is when you just go batshit? Why wouldn't everyone want to live like this?

My understanding of Cody is that he's meant to be like Toby but with a few tweaks. Undeniably, there's similarities between the two and what they look for in a partner. He's certainly just as interested in someone who exudes mentor/parental energy and would probably develop feelings for someone who's a bit older than him in age. He wants to please, the thought alone sets his heart ablaze. Differing from his counterpart, I don't think Cody quite has the same aversion to authority figures. He's hardly the most rule-abiding, but he doesn't clash heads with others quite as much.

Keeping on theme here, he stalks you relentlessly before making a proper move. Cody might look like the average guy, but he doesn't really see himself that way. He avoids lingering in public spaces if he can help it, so your initial run-in with him was pure chance-- fate, as he would call it. He wouldn't really need to see much of you or your actions before deciding that you're the one.

Cody's role under Slender has very little to do with stealth operations, and that's on purpose. In a crowd he might be able to blend in, but he's a bit of a lost cause when stranded entirely on his own. Cody has none of the patience to be waiting around for hours on end while you just sit there; he needs to be involved. He breaks into your home on numerous occasions, sometimes even while you're still there.

You may never see an actual person, but you know someone else has been in your space. Cody takes your things, leaves drawers and doors of all kinds open, and creates a mess wherever he chooses to prowl. Even if you're smart enough to start taking preventative actions, he evades them. Extra locks? He'll make a copy of those keys as well. Alarm system? He has a friend (BEN) that can disable them with the touch of a button. You can not keep him away from you.

He tries to fabricate a handful of meet-cutes, but they likely won't ever go as planned. Cody can have all the technical details he wants; he simply doesn't have the charisma to make a short encounter charming enough. Actually talking to you causes the words to get caught in his throat, and, when he does get around to speaking, he's clearly not the most socialized person.

At the end of the day, he doesn't honestly care if he's successfully attracted your attention. He loves you, and that should be enough to get you to reciprocate. No matter what, Cody's impatience will take hold and he'll involve himself in your life. The situation is far from seamless, by the way. The reveal that he's been your stalker is sudden, and his reappearance from that point on will become expected. If you try to ignore him and his affections, maybe even seek out another partner, he'll take matters into his own hands.

He's a bit shy with his affections at first, but he comes around pretty quickly. Much like Toby, he's big on acts of service. He would do almost anything for you if you asked. Even if you don't ask, he might do things he thinks you'd like him to do just so he can hear you gush and thank him for his efforts. Nothing puts a blush on the man's face more than a simple "thank you" from you.

Y'all knew this was coming up, but would he purposely infect you with an illness? At first, the thought would be last on his mind. He sees those he infects as nothing more than easily disposable subjects, and you're the furthest from that to him. Though, it's quite easy to become sick regardless of his interference. It's sort of like breaking a seal in his mind once you get sick for the first time. He can take care of you, and, depending on how ill you are, you probably won't even reject it-- hell, you might even need to depend on him. Cody will never intentionally expose you to something he worries might kill you. But, becoming exposed to the common cold every few months? He'll be there to take care of you.

Cody isn't too good at initiating physical affection, but he does want it from you. Growing up without any properly nurturing parental figures then being quickly funneled into Slenderman's killing apparatus, he doesn't know touch very well. Initially, he might think of himself as touch adverse, but he's quick to figure out the racing of his heart when your skin brushes his isn't a totally bad feeling. Cody was pretty clingy in the first place, so this revelation just increases that tenfold. Like an overly attached cat, your personal space is his as well.

Nina the Killer

I was originally thinking about doing a post with just relationship hcs for the girls, but I might just do one for all the other girls anyways.

Getting into a relationship with Nina isn't a particularly long process. Once she has her sights on you, she hardly waits before deciding to sink her teeth in. She doesn't express her interests explicitly right off the bat, but it's no secret that all of her moves are an attempt to make you more and more interested. If you indulge her efforts, that's when she makes her intentions clear. Don't accept it? Nina doesn't care. She'll keep trying.

She's not too picky, but I think she would be more likely to stick with a partner who is under Slender's control than one who isn't. Few things hold Nina's attention for very long, and a relationship is not an exception. If she has to travel a significant distance to properly see you, the thrill becomes old all too quick. Meanwhile, Slender's pawns tend to reside in much closer succession to each other than the outside world, so she's more likely to seek you out-- finding thrill in aspects other than sneaking around.

Even then, it's not a guarantee she'll stick around consistently. When she becomes interested in something, it's a slippery slope to boundless obsession. Nina's fixated on you at first, maybe even longer than usual since you two managed to reach actual relationship status, but it'll inevitably fade. From that point, you're almost like her rebound-- a middle point to go to as she finds the next thing.

Jeff was her first true obsession, so her approach can be kind of similar to his but there are some key differences. Nina's interest in a relationship isn't just the sex, but the romantic aspect as well. She wants to be doted on and obsessed over just like she's done for everything in her life. While it may seem like a one-sided thing, she's actually pretty competent at reciprocal gestures. Her ultimate understanding of you may just be a projection of herself onto another body, but that does mean you'll get back most, if not all of, the affection you pour into her.

Speaking of Jeff, he also exists as a sort of middle point for her. Her brain can't sit still for long, so, if something hasn't hooked it for long enough, she goes back to old habits. Sometimes that results in her being extra attentive to you, but it can also mean a return to Jeff. Even worse, she will not hear you out if you have a problem with it. Once again, Nina can really only emulate the feeling of empathy by seeing others literally as herself. So, you should know just how much Jeff means to her.

On that topic, Nina's obsessions aren't always romantic in nature, but there's no denying they can be. As soon as she's interested, you're the last thing on her mind, and she will disappear for months on end until the dopamine rush fades. Just like with her and Jeff, your complaints about this behavior will fall on deaf ears. You simply can't police her on that. No amount of threats will change the matter.

Most unfortunate for you, she does not see this as a two way street. She can have her little obsessions, but you so much as looking at another person in a certain way might set her off entirely. While she's gone, Nina certainly isn't keeping tabs on you and whatever you do with others. But, once she returns, you're expected to welcome her with open arms at a moment's notice. In her mind, it's simply not possible for you to split your attention between her and someone else like that. She's not totally opposed to hearing out whatever counter argument you make, but it certainly won't sway her opinion in the long-term.

Moving on, Nina is a big physical affection girly. Hug her, kiss her, cuddle her, crawl into her skin, all possible options! As established, she'll give you just as much physical affection back. She doesn't have a consistent schedule of any kind, but she almost always fits a nice mid-day nap into whatever it is she's doing. Nina expects you to curl up with her regardless of your own schedule or responsibilities. You two have to look exactly like these two cats shaped like hearts or else you don't love her. She's only sort of joking.

Meaningful words of affection aren't a strong suit of hers. She tends to fling around compliments and "love you's" to a lot of people, so they don't really mean too much to her when they fall from her mouth. On the flip side, you saying those things to her is about the equivalent of a marriage proposal, especially when she's deep in her obsessive swing.

I think Nina is a great gift-giver as well. Her artistic skills aren't quite as extensive as Helen's, but she's not half-bad. If she feels especially enraptured by you, she'll give you a drawing she did of you or even the both of you together. I don't know anyone who doesn't think of her as a scene girl, so her main gift to you is in the form of kandi bracelets. She can string one of those together like it's nothing and could probably give you 1000 a day if you had the arm space. Giving them to you is one thing and seeing you wear them is a must. She's usually satisfied seeing you wear a particular one for at least a week before giving you another

Slenderman

Oh boy. I tend to write Slender as an embodiment of societal issue rather than a character of its own, but I thought I'd try my hand at something new :)

Also (just because I love info-dumping about my writing), I use varying pronouns for Slender based on a character's perspective. If a character doesn't like Slender or only views it as some evil master, then I use it/its. But, in the case that a character likes the creature and sees him more friendly, I use he/him pronouns. It's not super important, just a touch I really like adding.

You will become Slender's pawn if it takes an interest in you. That's a non-negotiable, being near it is impossible otherwise. Its treatment of you, on the other hand, is much different than that of its actual pawns. Whether Slender has real feelings or not is unclear, but it's not easily capable of growing attached to its proxies. It collects them for a specific reason just as it collected you.

You're probably nothing too exceptional, not a killer with a crazy backstory, just a normal person. It sinks its influence into your mind at a much slower rate than usual in order to not alarm you. You'll barely even notice as your dreams become more and more consumed by the image of the woods just outside your home. Feelings of fear and discomfort shift to those of delight as the faceless being slowly reveals itself to you. Before you even know it, you're walking happily towards its awaiting form to be taken for good.

No surprises here, it simply whisks you away from civilization as soon as the brainwashing process is complete. Slender doesn't particularly care how its other human extensions live as long as they keep themselves alive enough to complete the next task. You, on the other hand, deserve much better accommodations than that. The woods are a vast and endless space that Slender controls, so it'll probably locate a quaint little cabin far from civilization to trap you in.

You're a more well kept secret than nuclear launch codes. To the world, you've disappeared, and it will inevitably erase even that memory from public consciousness. Any wanderers will get inexplicably turned around if they get too close and not even its closest proxies know of your existence. There's no need for something with even a speck of human emotion to conceptualize taking you away from it.

More often than not, you don't see Slender, but you feel it's there. Gifts are the most common sign of its presence. People "lose" things of all shapes and sizes in the woods all the time. And, since it knows everything about you, the perfect gift is always just one dead body away. That might be the only tell to its proxies that there's something different going on with the creature; it's much more sadistic than it was before. In the case that it doesn't want to pillage worthless human goods, it'll leave you a bundle of wildflowers. Slender certainly appreciates other forms of nature, probably the more macabre. But, It views you as something similar to one of those little flowers that grow in its domain; something small (relative to it, at least) and beautiful amidst the horrors of humanity.

From one tentacle monster lover to the next, I hate to disappoint, but Slender does not care for physical affection. Its tentacle appendages can't really feel much except for the fading pulse of whichever sorry creature ends up in its grasp. So, whenever it shows you it's physical form, it just kind of... stands there. No face, but always watching-- as they say. If you try to reach out and touch its form (hands, face, etc.), it might indulge your interests, but it doesn't particularly care for it.

Words of affection are a similar beast. It doesn't have a mouth, duh. But, even if it did give its form one, Slender can only communicate through the mind. It's an old creature too, so its compliments can be semi-convoluted or just Lovecraftian (I said Shakespearean originally... but I feel like referencing Lovecraft is funnier). You know it means well, but you might not be able to pinpoint exactly which words indicate that much.

After all I've said of Slender, it's control over you isn't entirely ironclad-- there's a few gaps. Certain sensations, scents, maybe even items might inexplicably remind you of the life you once lived. When those memories surface, they're extremely blurry, and Slender tends to jump in rather quickly once it senses that distress in your mind. They give you a certain sense of having lived a previous life, like there's something you're missing. You likely won't come to fully realize any of it as long as the creature lives, but it can't completely eradicate your curious human nature.

#❧carn answers #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #x reader #creepypasta hcs #x gn reader #bloody painter #helen otis #bloody painter x reader #x virus #x virus x reader #nina the killer #nina the killer x reader #slenderman #slenderman x reader #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta x you

245 notes · View notes

thainovels · 1 year ago

Text

All the novels on the drive (this list will be updated):

❗i found most of these online, so i can't guarantee they are correct ❗

google drive

bl - pdf x epub

non thai novels

MEGA - another place where you can find the novels and download them

updated list of the novels - in one word document

requests and suggestions - document where you can add the novels you're looking for and check if someone already asked about them, you should be able to edit there

[email protected] - my mail where you can send anything you want to share

advice for new readers

hopefully all the links are working right, let me know if there's a problem.

if you have any requests or maybe you have some novels and want to share you can always send me a message. if i don't reply to you, i'm not ignoring you, i just wasn't able to find what you're looking for so i keep the asks unanswered so i don't forget and check later and can update you when i find it.

individual novels under the cut:

BL 1:

2 Worlds, One Heart

2gether

A Tale Of A Thousand Stars

Aftermoon

Bad Buddy

Bad Guy, My Boss

Be My Favorite

Because we are (still) a couple (2gether 2)

Bed Friend

Big Dragon

Blooming Flowers, Silent Sorrow

Blue Kiss

Boss And A Babe

Boys in Love A New Term begins… Hearts Learning to Love

Boys In Love

Cooking Crush

Counter Attack

Cutie Pie

Cutie Pie Extras

Dangerous Romance

Dare You To Death

Diagnosis

Engineer Cute Boy: Charming & Sweet, Hottie & Cutie, Sunshine & Darkness

Eye Contact Nu

Fahlanruk

Fish Upon The Sky

For The Love Of Us

Fourever You (all novels)

Goddess bless you from death

Gown and Gear

He's coming to me

Hemp Rope (Between Us)

Hidden Agenda

KinnPorsche

Knock Out - Dawin

Knock Out Engineering

Khemjira

Kidnap

Lately, It’s Winter Season

Links

Live In Love

Love Defection

Love Director 1, 2

Love In The Air: Sky

Love In The Air Special Novel

Love Mechanics 1, 2

Love Sand

Love Sea

Love Sick

Love Sky

Love Storm

Love Syndrome 1, 2, 3, 4

Love Syndrome Nan and Mac 1, 2

Love Upon A Time

Lovely Writer

Make It Right

Me and Thee

Memoir of Rati

Manner Of Death

Me and Who

Middleman's Love

Mr. Fanboy

My Beast

My Golden Blood

My Magic Prophecy

My Moon

My Only 12%

My School President 1

My School President 2

My Stubborn 1, 2

My Sweetheart Jom

Naughty Babe

Never Let Me Go

Nitrogen

Not Me

Not The Best But Still Good (Duang With You)

Only Boo

Only Friends

Owner of the North

Oxygen

Perfect 10 Liners (Arc x Arm; Faifah x Wine; Yotha x Gun)

Pit Babe 1, 2

R Society - Until You - CEO

Real Love

Rebirth of a Movie Star

Red Peacock

Reset

Revamp The Undead Story

Sotus 1

Sotus 2

Spare Me Your Mercy

Star In My Mind

Star Scope

Sunset Vibes

Sweet Tooth, Good Dentist

ThamePo: Heart That Skips A Beat

TharnType 1, 2, 3

The Boy Next World

The Eclipse

The Effect

The Ex-Morning

The Gap Between Us (My Engineer)

The Heart Killers

The Hunt Lay Low

The Last Twilight

The Owner Of Northern Land-Jayden-Dannuea

The Next Prince

The Sign

Theory of Love

TimeTayTem A Love So Cruel, in The End is Not Love

This Cold Month

Together With Me

Tonhon Chonlatee

Tossakan

Triage

True Moon

Try Me 1, 2

Two Moons

Unforgotten Night

Unknown Lover

Until We Meet Again

VegasPete

Vice Versa 1

Vice Versa 2

We Are... - wattpad

Wish Me Luck

Wandee Goodday

Why R U?

Your Sky

GL:

7YEARS

23.5

911

A Shadow Underneath The Moon

About Galaxy

Adore Khun Jae Like Crazy

Affair

Apple

Arpo

Ashes Of Our Hearts

Bad Sugar

BAKE LOVE (FEELINGS)

Be My Baby

Be My Boo

Be My Sugar

Belongs To Porprima

Bitter Sweet Toxic

Blank

Bloody Mary

Built In Love

Buy My Boss

Chain

Chain Baby (special)

Chanel No5

CHASING LOVE

Chloe

CLAIREBELL

Cranium

Crush

Dream

Enemies With Benefits

Evil Enemy Defeats Love

For Her

Formidable Eyes

FWB With My Boss

GAP 1

GAP 2

GOD 1

GOD 2

Harmony Secret

Harmony Secret Special

Heart Villain

Heiress Fall And Unexpected Love

Hello Neighbor

Hello! How Are You (pdf)

Her Baby Is In My Belly

Her Wife Is A Hollywood Star

Heras Divorce

I See You

I’m Your Moon

If I Stop Being Stubborn, Will You Love Me

In's Love

Irresistible

Just Friend

Lies Between Us

LIKE A PALLETE

Linda When Will Your Heart Be Mine

Little Bit Little More

Love and Persuasion

Love Begins With A Terrible Kiss

Love From Afar

Love Prologue

Love Senior

Love That Won’t Lose

Lucky One

LUV IS JUST.. LOVE

Lyrics

Mafia’s Doctor Lover

Mafia’s Sugar Baby

Mate

Melt My Heart

Midnight Flight

Mirror

More and More

My Brother’s Wife

My Only Sunshine

My Pink Love

Obsessed

One Night Stand

Papa Mafia

Petrichor 1, 2

PLAYER

Pluto

Poisonous Love

Predict

Professor With Benefits

Promises In The Illusion

Puff Love

Queendom

Rain and Rice

REMAIN Vol 01, 02

Reverse 4 You

Reverse With Me

Rhythm 1, 2

Rin Will Never Love (Denied Love)

Rin Will Never Love (Denied Love) Special - Endless

Rolling In Love

Secret Affair

Shape of Status

Sister

Smile My Tutor

Somewhere Somehow 1

Somewhere Somehow 2

Special Edge Of The Universe

STOP BEING EVIL (TO YOUR LOVER)

STOP YOUR HEART (FOR ME)

Stuck With Me

Sunflower Silk

The Air (4Elements)

The Chef’s Favorite

The Dragon

The Earth (4ELEMENTS)

The Fire (4ELEMENTS)

The Loyal Pin 1

The Loyal Pin 2

The Moon likes Your Smile

The Secret Of Us (TSOU)

The Tiger

The Water (4Elements)

The Whale Store xoxo

The Widow’s Maid

Uncertainty

WARM EYES

When Love Conquers

Non Thai Novels:

Addicted 1

Addicted 2

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation 1-5

Professional Body Double (My stand In) - online

We Best Love 1

We Best Love 2

#gmmtv #gmmtv series #thai drama #thai series #thai bl #thai gl #thai novels #thai novel

1K notes · View notes

lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 8 months ago

Text

That One Friend…

Twisted Wonderland: Trey Clover, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Kalim Al Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Idia Shroud, Lilia Vanrouge,

JJK: Suguru Geto, Megumi Fushigiro, Mei Mei

Demon Slayer: Douma, Shinobu Kocho, Giyuu Tomioka, Tanjiro Kamado

Obey Me: Satan, Asmodeus, Simeon, Solomon, Barbatos

Hunter X Hunter: Hisoka Morrow, Chrollo Lucilfer, Shalnark, Shaiapouf,

OCs: Rhiana(Witch), Wille (Elite Serial Killer), Fantasy Villain

There’s always That One Friend who you pass by in the market across the street or at the cafe you frequent before work. This one friend is always sweet–a kind soul you can trust for some intelligent conversation or to sit in silence with.

Whether you’re married with kids or dating your long-term partner something in you tends to wander. Your mind drifts to That One Friend who you know would have picked up on your silence. They would have reached over the table to hold your hand as they demanded you tell them what was wrong–letting their worried eyes never leave yours as they searched the troubled depths of your own.

There’s just something about That One Friend who has you daydreaming about what it’d be like to be with them instead. A dark sliver of you that entertains the idea of straying from where you're trapped but you’ll shoot that down…eventually. While you’re certain you love That One Friend you do love your significant other even if they stopped saying ‘I love you.’ It would be wrong to betray them for That One Friend—who can verbally assure you that they care. Who makes an effort to tell you how much they care about you daily. Besides it’d be wrong to base a betrayal on only a side of That One Friend.

For all you know, they could be just being a good friend–showing a side of themself that you need. Besides they have their business or another partner or their long distance relationship so even if you were brave enough to confess your little crush to that dear One Friend it would never work out.

So when it’s finally decided that you’ll shut down these invasive feelings put more time in improving your current relationship. You’ll limit yourself from That One Friend if only to get it into your brain that they’re just not an option. Diving into work, trying with your partner, spending more time with your kids, or just visiting a different place for lunch. You’ll make an excuse when That One Friend starts catching on and hope that they don’t take offense. Finding a steady routine that no longer relies on That One Friend.

But that all goes to shambles when something terrible happens to your significant other. A car crash, leaking gas pipe, or a mysterious drive-by shooting—they’re gone. Your world–as dysfunctional as it already was—comes crashing down. Since you can’t fall because of your kids or because you worry you’ll never begin to bring yourself up again you have no choice but to rely on That One Friend.

That One Friend who is at your apartment the second they’ve learned what’s happened. That One Friend who comes along with you to the police station when you promise that there’s foul play. That One Friend who cooks and cleans when you just don’t feel like moving. That One Friend who will even invite you, your kids, or your pets into their home so they can look after you because they are just so worried.

That One Friend who licks their lips as they watch you curl into their bed wearing the hoodie they let you borrow. That One Friend who invites your kids to call them something closer than their first name. That One Friend who reminds you to eat while you obsess over your significant other’s case. That One Friend who encourages you to cuddle with them since you’ve been having so much trouble sleeping.

That One Friend who has been waiting for the perfect opportunity to get them back on your market. That One Friend who is like a predator lying in wait as it becomes years before you start wanting to date again. That One Friend who will make sure they’re narrowly injured on a train accident so that their emergency contact–you comes running and kisses their forehead because you were so scared. That One Friend who knows it’ll be a matter of time before you accept or propose yourself.

That One Friend who can’t help but relish in the way you’re attention and love belong to them.

And That One Friend will do anything to make that happen.

329 notes · View notes

shutupineedtothink · 9 months ago

Text

More ep 7 thoughts, now that I’ve watched it twice and processed 🫠

Bookending the episode with Lilia’s fall but first it’s down and then it’s up - sick, twisted, beautiful, devastating, I’m crying

The soundtrack really goes hard in this ep

The wildest part about the “ex best friend” line is all of those things are equally insane - ex, ex best friend, or best friend. Like ma’am what hex were you living in

Babysitter is likely a reference to the comics, but interesting also in terms of WV because we saw Agatha babysit the twins only once I think. Does this mean she actually spent more time with them than we know?

Wow once again Kathryn Hahn is doing so much work in this first scene with Billy, she’s going from snarky to wary to calculating to hurt to i don’t even know. She’s doing a masterclass in face acting.

When they start to climb toward the castle, Agatha has her hands clasped behind her back and initially I was just like ma’am, why are you like this, but then I realized oh. Her hands are tied right now.

Waning moon for the Crone trial babyyyyyy called it

Fun and fast transition to get us into the trial, since we know the deal by now

She’s based on me you know — sooooo, tragic, misunderstood, secretly suffering her whole life, constantly judged by others, uh huh uh huh

Prove it - he really doesn’t believe a word she says! And she looks so hurt by it!

The way Agatha sits in the chair omg girl please chill

This is such like an Indiana Jones trap I love it

God I love Lilia’s visions, changing the perspective to hers, the blurring around the edges - sometimes you don’t need to do much, but it’s hella effective

Actually a lot of good camera tricks in this ep I’m not going to point them all out

It’s about limiting beliefs baybeee - once again the writers showing they know their psych

I’m sorry that tea leaves to the underground transition??? Spectacular

“Well tell me what more I should see when I look at you. No, I mean it” - hey nonviolent communication, how’s it going 🤌

God can you imagine how scary it would be to have these visions as a CHILD

Did you not see imminent impalement in your future?? Lol why did this get me

I get the fake nose on Agatha but idk maybe I could’ve done without it

Teenager his full name LOLOL underrated joke

Dory OMGGGGG

Jen being the ultimate Lilia champion this ep and I love it. Also seems to contradict her behavior even more in Agatha’s trial, but she’s still more snappy with Agatha here too

What are you wearing, I don’t wanna talk about it - bruh every line. EVERY LINE.

Did I mention the transitions are killer

Your task is not to control but to see. - I, I can’t keep writing down every line but

I love that as soon as Jen knows what’s going on, she’s totally on board, just asking Lilia for intel, like yep this is normal now

Ahhh the spell book. Interesting that Lilia finds it.

Ohp - I wish Lilia was here. Ask and you shall receive - see the Billy’s Road theory

She calls him baby again 😭

Is snappy dialogue one of my biggest joys on this earth? I think it is

Proper tarot takes time and care. And leads to large gaping wounds - …. You mean like internal wounds? Like trauma? Like you have to bring up the trauma to heal it? Uh huh uh huh cool cool cool cool you said it Agatha not me.

The Magician, the ability to turn all of your goals into reality - Agatha immediately side eyes him. Bruh.

I’m a forgotten woman. Then remember yourself. 🤌🤌🤌

I was falling. I will fall. - CAMERA. MOVEMENT.

What will you do with your remaining time 🤝 all we can do is decide what to do with the time that is given to us. Iykyk.

The subway baybeee get that House of R theory

God this tarot spread scene is so epic.

Ok Jen being the path ahead… I gotta come back to that

Agatha is the obstacle yep that makes sense (but the obstacle is the way)

Windfall - Billy, miraculous transformation uh yep ok

Destination - Death. Such a good reveal, even if I already knew it. Once again the power of good writing. In the end all roads lead to me. UGH WTF

NOT THE GREEN VINES SPELLING A BIG OL “R” WHEN THE DOORS OPEN

The original green witch…. Ok so she is in the coven… but also Billy’s in the coven? It’s a shared black heart? Or it means you can go one direction or the other… hm.

Ughghghghhh her just giving them each what they need before she sends them onward. She’s the GOAT.

Did I mention the music????

This whole scene is so EPIC. The tower upright fuck it up queen

Oh my God Lilia took her power back 😭

We didn’t see a body unlike Alice I’m holding onto that “see you at the end” lyric with all my might at this point

Time in a bottle was sick and twisted and beautiful I love it

I just… can’t believe this is something I got to witness. Like it’s so good I’m mad about it.

A few other quick thoughts:

Jen being the path ahead… if she was birth in the first trial (see my maiden mother crone trial theory), then maybe she’s also REbirth? It’s a circle sewn with fate… we’re going back to the beginning but emerging from the Road this time. Eh??

Patti…. PATTI!! Where’s her Emmy? Where’s the show’s Emmy???

Not only was this a better time travel plot than the rest of Marvel as I said in another post but it’s also better than time travel in Doctor Who for the last 10 years and that pisses me off low key.

Not to jump ahead but buckle up kids cuz if we’re following the loose structure of WandaVision then ep 8 is our flashback/reliving the trauma episode for Agatha and as much as I was destroyed by this ep I am so not ready for all of that.

Anyway. What a masterpiece. I’m DONE.

#agatha all along #agatha all along spoilers #deaths hand in mine #agatha harkness #lilia calderu

174 notes · View notes

literaryvein-reblogs · 5 months ago

Note

Hello! Hope your day is going alright. I was wondering if you have any advice for when all characters feel the same? Despite having different core traits and mannerisms, when I write them it always somehow ends up feeling like they're copy pastes of one another to me. I noticed that I've been having a hard time with giving my characters agency too which led me to wondering if that isn't causing the former issues.

Thank you for taking the time to run this blog and help so many people, cheers!

Writing Notes: Character Identity & Agency

Identity chart. Example:

What parts of themselves are influencing their decisions in your story? Familiarize that part of their identities.

Try to maintain the truth of the group and to simultaneously think of your character as an individual.

Thinking about why your characters behave the way they do and why they make certain decisions is important to writing a good story.

The plot moves along because of the decisions your characters make.

Be honest with yourself and what you know and don't know, do some research and ask for help, you'll create more authentic characters that way.

Your Character's Agency. Some writers prefer to map out their story but allow their characters to help lead the story.

This technique is more often used by "pantsers".

A pantser is a term most commonly applied to fiction writers, especially novelists, who write their stories "by the seat of their pants."

The opposite would be a plotter, or someone who uses outlines to help plot out their novels.

Many writers fall into one camp or the other, though it's not uncommon for writers to try both methods from book to book.

Author Victoria Schade describes giving her characters agency:

...I kept stressing out about a specific plot point I couldn’t untangle, and over time my characters slowly revealed the answer to me. It wasn’t an “a ha” moment, it was a gradual realization, and when it all came together I couldn’t help but think, “It was there the whole time!” But that’s the beauty of letting characters have agency and giving them an active role in the writing process—they surprise you!

It pays off to let characters have agency, she has found, particularly in the drafting process.

WRITING TIPS. When creating a character, try to understand them so that their actions and words are consistent with their personality and history.

Who we are is at least partly hardwired, inherited from parents and grandparents.

A lot of those characteristics like how extraverted or introverted someone is, how open or private they are, how conscientious or empathetic or neurotic they are is there in a child’s brain.

Knowing those basic characteristics could help you understand where a person has come from.

But those traits are plastic; they are moulded by experience and especially childhood.

Writing a backstory for a character helps the writer make certain that even confident social behavior (from an introverted character) is different from the social behavior of an extravert.

No personality trait is better than another, extraverts don’t have easier lives than introverts, conscientious people don’t do better than slapdash people.

Everyone struggles with their own nature in the wrong settings.

Of course, writers delight in putting them in the wrong settings.

Understanding motivation is crucial to developing a character, most writers do this automatically.

They may have a plot-driven goal (solve the crime, deliver the ring, marry the hero), but they also have

personal motivations (revenge against a killer, loyalty to comrades, love or loneliness).

Example: You don’t want a shy, lonely character to suddenly propose a karaoke night, because the reader won’t find it believable. Maybe she has to be talked into it, dragged even!

When creating main characteristics, it’s worth jotting down a personality sketch and basic history.

Smaller characters are just as important.

It's okay if you don’t delve into their history much, but you don’t want them to be stereotypical characters, just ciphers for the plot.

These smaller characters are great opportunities to reveal something about the main character, as they are seen through their point of view.

Example: A confident person meeting a surly waiter might challenge them, or ignore it. An anxious person might blame themselves.

We are interested in people and how different they are from us.

Stories of extraordinary life experiences draw us in.

We want to learn about personality traits that we don’t understand, like psychopathy or obsession, which explains the popularity of true crime books and fiction about murder.

Human beings are varied and interesting, we like to understand what they do.

A death, a divorce, a lost job, a miscarriage, all lead to a fresh start—it’s a brilliant trope, because we all experience them in our own lives.

Characters are revealed to us as they struggle and adapt, make new choices, build new relationships.

People don’t move on cleanly; they trail the past around with them for years.

Allowing a character to experience doubts and fears going forward makes them more relatable, more realistic.

Our senses produce a lot of memories.

The most evocative are smells.

We can activate memories from our childhood, even babyhood from a scent.

Example: Smoke from pipe tobacco can evoke someone's grandfather, who they hardly knew because he died when they were just a toddler. But the smell could bring back the sound of his voice and his bristly beard, huge leathery hands.

The "Read a lot" Writing Tip:

Read psychology articles and real-life stories, just to enrich your fiction.

As writers, we collect stories.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Thanks so much for your kind words! Try some of these tips and see which ones work for you as a writer, or perhaps for that specific story you are currently writing. Some writers don't find it necessary to give their characters agency, but it can work at times. When characters start to feel "the same", one technique is using charts like this, or templates, just to help with keeping track of your characters' traits and further differentiating them from one another. Hope this helps & have a lovely day/night as well.

More References for Character Development

Some Writing Worksheets & Templates

#writeblr #character development #writing notes #fiction #dark academia #light academia #creative writing #studyblr #lit #original character #on writing #writing prompt #writing advice #writing tips #writing reference #spilled ink #writers on tumblr #literature #writing resources

108 notes · View notes

xlostinthedreamfics · 1 month ago

Text

Sugar Rush (Wooyoung Fic) !PREVIEW!

Note: I've been itching to write something like this for a while, and once I saw those Wooyoung Arena pictures, I just knew I had to. I wouldn't be a true tease if I didn't just start with a little preview of what is to come. I hope you love slow burns as much as me because I am excited for this one.

Summary: Tired of the poking and prying of those around you in regards to your love life, pushed you to find an escort hiring service where Jung Wooyoung would teach you more than you know.

Whoever said money can’t buy you happiness might have been right, but money could also make you less miserable to an extent. Being brought up in a household where you were constantly setting goals, working to meet those expectations, and continuing to aim for greater lengths in terms of success has brought you to where you are now, sitting in the nicest penthouse in the city. Your space is as large as can be, surrounded by windows to see the world beneath, but still feeling like a princess locked away in a tower, completely and utterly alone. Sure, your wealth has brought you plenty of opportunities, experiences to travel, and invitations to parties of the highest honors. If you’re someone on the outside looking in, this life is ideal; it’s a life worth sacrificing so much for. But, what if you sacrificed everything in your life to get here, and all you can think about when you’re at the top is how high of a fall it will be when you jump?

Being a young CEO in this day and age comes with its benefits; you decide when you feel like trying, and today was exactly that. You lay in your king-size bed, surrounded by pillows stuffed with the finest duck feathers your assistant could find. The bed was cold, your sheets rubbing against your skin, causing shivers to dance down your back. It was the day of preparations for the yearly award ceremony at your company, a gathering where you would win yet another award, where you would have to give yet another speech on how much of your life you have committed to your work. The applause and the praises fill the venue where your closest colleagues and employees celebrate, but go eerily silent as soon as you step foot inside your home. The dribbling of the water from the faucet continuously hits the sink floor as you stare into your fridge now, trying to fuel yourself up with something before putting in some effort to get ready for the day. The eggs began to blur together as you spaced out, the sound of your phone making you jump, as you shut the fridge hastily. You glanced at your assistant’s name on the caller ID, swiping to answer, “Hey.”

“So we have your dress ready for tomorrow, I’m booking makeup and hair to arrive at around 3 pm to get you looking fabulous for your special day!” You could tell she was smiling on the other end; she loved events like this because she could dress you up like her doll, and you’d allow it. You knew nothing about makeup, fashion, hair, or shoes; all you knew was how to run your company, and that’s it. You didn’t have time to think about anything else. “It would’ve been amazing if we had a date for you, there’s a matching suit that goes with the dress that would just look killer on a handsome man. Perhaps you’ve had luck on those dating apps?” Her questions pricked at you like a daily non-relaxing acupuncture session. She loved to pry, to know your inner workings, especially in things you were so naive about, like dating, love, and sex. As soon as you got into college, the only thing you were rubbing between your two fingers was the pages on the books piled up on your desk, aiming to become valedictorian, and you did. Although when you looked out into the crowd during your speech, you weren’t greeted with applauding parents, but two empty chairs. Your parents had businesses of their own in completely different countries, and sometimes you wondered why they stayed married when they saw each other only a few times a year. It all came down to money; they were richer together than apart.

“I’m not going into the office, can you reschedule my meetings for today?” You sighed into your phone, your assistant agreeing right away. She was used to these days of yours, which were noticebly becoming more frequent. You lay on your bed for a few more hours, your stomach not even bothering to grumble once since you skipped breakfast, almost as if it were exhausted along with you. You pulled your laptop that was sitting on your nightstand onto your lap, the bright screen making you squint. As soon as you unlocked it, you were bombarded with work emails, quickly closing them out and logging into the anonymous rich under 30 forum you were a part of. You liked to skim through the posts sometimes, trying to find normalcy among people in a similar situation to you. How to Dress for Your Success, Best Botox Clinics in the city, Using Your Business LP to save on taxes. You sighed, continuing to scroll until you stopped at a post from a few days ago, with only a few reactions and comments. You weren’t sure how you missed it, but you clicked it anyway: Rent a Boyfriend.

The posts from a few women raved about a website where you could hire escorts to come with you to public events, family affairs, or just on days when you need some company.

LindaLety: I hired Choi San for an event for work, and he was so humble, so sweet, and had the best manners. Worth the money!

Glamx98: Jeong Yunho is the epitome of beauty and grace. He treated me so well when he accompanied me to my family reunion and went along with my story so my family could stop asking about my love life.

They included pictures along with long descriptions of what their experience was, raving about how professional and high-quality the service was. You clicked onto the website, an introductory page with the purpose of the escorts and their rules, which did make you feel a bit better since you’ve only heard weird things about these websites, but this one seemed promising. You clicked over to the array of people, stating their name, how long they’ve worked for this company, and some of their hobbies or fun facts. You saw the guys mentioned in the forum, completely booked out. “Damn.” You mumbled under your breath, hoping maybe one of them would be available as a date for your work event tomorrow.

You continued to scroll, stopping at a man who was different from the rest. He had tattoos on his arms, his hair a bold, blonde color with streaks of baby blue peeking through. His low-rise jeans and cropped tee were stealing the show, posing as if he were rockstar in a band. His dark eyes made you tingle as you scrolled through his pictures. Jung Wooyoung. You liked that he was different, bold, daring, weird, some may say. Totally not your type, not a guy you would go for, but it’d be kind of fun to show up to the ceremony with him. His colorful exterior may have others double-take and raise an eyebrow, stirring interest in you, which is always good for business. You clicked on his availability, hoping, although it was a short notice, that maybe he would be available. The screen of the laptop twinkled in your eye as you smiled; Friday was open and available to book. You immediately confirmed, typing in your payment information, gaining access to a chat between you and Wooyoung. You drafted up a quick message on what the reason for the booking was, what the event was for, and asked for his measurements since you could get a suit ready for him. He responded rather quickly.

Wooyoung: Hi there, thank you for choosing me for this. I’ve attached my measurements, sizes, excited to see what you dress me in. I love color, or I could also do something simpler. Looking forward to meeting you, Ms. Y/N.

You felt your heart race as you came to realize what you had done, the excitement filling with dread as you slammed your laptop shut. You never thought you would be in this type of situation, hiring a date for an event to receive an award as a successful CEO. You trusted in the forum before, it never led you astray, so maybe this could work out? You could avoid the pressing and prying into your personal life, maybe gain some confidence to better propel you into the dating scene. Your computer dinged despite it being shut. You opened it up again, the chat between you and Wooyoung popping open again.

Wooyoung: Providing my phone number as well so you can send me the details for tomorrow’s event, addresses, times, etc. See you tomorrow!

125 notes · View notes

crownmemes · 1 month ago

Text

Assorted Media Sentences, Vol. 25

(Sentences from various pieces of media. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"All you ever have on your mind is money!"

"If you're going to be a pest, I'm just going to ignore you!"

"If I wasn't so wide awake, I'd swear I was dreaming!"

"I'm a thief! I'm not a murderer!"

"If you're good at reading people, it's mostly because you learnt as a child, trying to stay one step ahead of whatever tormented you."

"You know, being a warrior is not just being able to strike your opponent down with a sword. It's finding good reason to draw your sword in the first place."

"Are you conspiring with my mother now?"

"If your foot slips, we both fall."

"What do you want from your life, anyway?"

"The police are, as usual, completely out of their depth."

"Once again, you've deliberately held me at arm's length. I really think you might treat me with a little more frankness!"

"If you're looking for sensational material for one of your chronicles of crime, I suggest you adopt your usual practice and make it up."

"What I've got to do is going to tear me apart."

"You're no better than your father!"

"Where to fight counts for a lot, but there's nothing like having your friends show up with lots of guns."

"Whenever my father was working from home, which was most of the time, he used to give me a quarter for every hour I could keep quiet. One day, I remember it was a Saturday morning, I decided I wasn't going to say anything before he did, even if it took all weekend. But he never said anything. I don't think he even noticed."

"You know, I've always had this theory that the killer would return to the scene of his crimes and watch the investigators."

"So tell me, what's so important to drag you out of your office and into the field?"

"You know, I am stronger than I look."

"He makes me happy. It's been a while since anybody did that."

"There's not much time left in the world."

"If you keep holding out on me like this, I'm going to have to get really nasty."

"Isn't not telling me the whole story the same damn thing as lying?"

"It's been some time since anybody asked me to teach them anything!"

"I don't even remember you."

"There are things you have to come to terms with out here."

"I am hardly obliged to answer to the ravings of a drunkard!"

"You must pay for everything in this world, one way or another."

"At least let me get into the room before you start with your infernal interrogations!"

"Are you having a good time humiliating me like this for no damn reason?"

"This view never gets old, does it?"

"What is the point in going up that mountain in the dark, looking for something that doesn't want to be found?"

"Fortunately, there's nothing of what I was before left. Only the body's the same."

"Maybe you think I'm special, but I'm not."

"This job is very important to me, you understand? So don't fuck it up. For your own sake."

"Can I please stay here? Just for one more night?"

"You're not as hard to read as you think."

"Put your gun down, slowly, and take off your shirt."

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

"You nearly got us both killed, which is about all your tears and rage would have amounted to!"

"This is a suicide mission! I won't allow it!"

"I love you, but I can't struggle through this with you."

"When your eyes go dead, the hell I send you to will look like heaven compared to what I've done to you."

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #assorted;#general;

51 notes · View notes

nikipuff · 3 months ago

Note

hii, sorry if this is an uncomfortable ask but- could you maybe write something about Ronin from Killer Chat with a depressed reader who eventually k1lls themself? Thank you ^w^

Goodbye, Angel

paring: Ronin x Reader

wc: 982

warnings: suicide, depression, extreme feelings of guilt and regret, hallucinations

a/n: I'm totally fine with writing things like this, don't worry :3 I myself struggle with mental health, so this was somewhat easy to write and project onto!

The one thing Ronin didn’t expect to find in your room on a Saturday morning was a corpse.

…..

You didn’t expect to fall in love.

Much less with someone like Ronin Beaufort- Goreboy, as the majority of the server knew him.

Ever since he had sent you that link, you had been thrown into his world. One of deceit and murder. Though, you couldn’t say that you cared much about it. You knew what you were getting yourself into. Ever since you made the choice to accept the idea of talking to serial killers on a daily basis, being friends with them, heck, even starting to love one.

What you didn’t know was coming was the guilt.

With every photo sent of a bloodied and mangled corpse, regret made its way through you, eating at you until you were left frantically trying to exit the channel as soon as possible.

It was simply too much to handle.

Every victim, every murder, was one that you could have prevented. You had the opportunity to turn them all in, and what did you do?

You didn’t.

Why?

Because you loved one of them.

The one like the Devil himself, always giving you a smirk that filled you with both annoyance and curiosity. Where had he learned to become this cruel? And was there a part of him that felt as lost as you thought he was?

About killing people, about desiring revenge for people long gone. His rage mixed with that of the dead.

He refused to discuss the person that he claimed you reminded him off.

….

The guilt was starting to be too much.

How could you love someone that hurt people?

Scattered thoughts danced around in your mind, each whispering the ways that you could have saved the poor people that now lay discarded in alleys, dismembered and broken until someone finds them.

Your absence on the server started to become noticeable. DM notifications filled your screen, each from a different member that worried about your safety. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer any.

Responding to them would only cause the rotting feeling to get worse.

….

Harming yourself was your only salvation.

The familiar sting of the knife, each line formed from your own anguish brought a sense of satisfaction for you.

You were avenging the souls that you abandoned.

….

Your friends had long since stopped trying to help. Both the ones you clung onto in real life, and the ones through the screen.

You didn’t feel anything as they left.

….

One stayed.

….

“Darlin’, you need to get yourself together.” The door creaked open, the sound being caused from going months without being used. Ronin stepped into your room with a glance around the now dirtied and gloomy space. You didn’t bother to ask how he found you, instead settling for a low groan that made him look at you with an amused expression. “Ah, the little angel’s sick.”

You shook your head.

Ronin frowned. “No? Writer’s block?”

Another no.

“Oh, ‘cmon, just let me-”

He stopped, hand outstretched towards your arm, eyes widening slightly.

….

Ronin wasn’t stupid.

He knew what was happening.

The guilt that would writhe and spread underneath your skin, filling the darkest edges with thoughts of pain. It was a familiar feeling for Ronin, one that he had come to terms with. It was simply unavoidable for killers like him.

No matter how hard he tried, he could never fully erase the memories of his first few kills.

Messy and slow, each drawn out for Ronin’s personal amusement. That was before he realized who exactly it was that needed to be erased.

He would never be able to wash the innocent blood that stained his hands, the same ones that yearned to comfort you now.

…..

Visits became more frequent, the harshness of Ronin’s voice softening more and more with each passing day that he saw you suffer.

Sometimes you couldn’t bear to see him, others you wished to hold him close to you, to feel his lips pressed against your own.

Either way, it didn’t stop the rot.

….

It coursed through you, making its way closer and closer. Whispered words of doubt and anger. Illusions and hallucinations of people screaming at you, slashes covering them alongside gaping holes were their eyes used to be.

Clawed fingers that reached for you in the late hours of night, sharp teeth that bit into you in the early hours of morning.

You were decaying.

….

You couldn’t take it anymore.

Even as you tied the necklace around your neck, positioning it in the perfect position, you felt a sense of dread.

You were scared to leave.

But what else was left for you besides voices that called for your death?

The one’s tormented your every waking moment, making sure that there was never a time where you were safe from the guilt that had made its home in you.

…

He didn’t expect tears.

The ones that flowed freely, despite Ronin’s attempts at covering it. He was never someone who cried over something, so why start now?

As he reached for the necklace of rope, he tried his best to pull back the comforting numbness, to allow it to settle over him, because feeling all of this was too dangerous.

What could he have done to help you?

Maybe he could’ve helped ease your fears, helped you get rid of the constant hallucinations and nightmares that plagued your mind both day and night. He could’ve cleaned up every few days so your room didn’t always seem like one full of constant despair. There were so many things, so many tiny little actions or words that would’ve saved you.

Yet, for once, the Devil found himself afraid.

#killer chat #killer chat x reader #ronin killer chat #ronin beaufort #killer chat ronin #ronin #ronin x reader #ronin oneshot #kc ronin x reader #ronin x mc #ronin x you #killerchat #killer chat ronin x reader #kc #killer chat vn

109 notes · View notes

yanderedbdimagines · 5 months ago

Note

I came to your blog and I already love it !!! ^^. So I wanted to ask if you could maybe do another Yandere Legion with each one of them. As a breakup scenario (where the reader wants to break up but they don't allow it to say so). I just didn't find any ^^

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

Thank you kindly for liking my blog! :D That makes me very happy to hear. I have the feeling each member of the Legion can react very differently in a situation as this one, and each using a different tactic to try and force you to change your mind. On the long term perspective too as I did with Frank.

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

Warning!: NSFW elements are present!

Frank Morrison

Frank squares his jaw, his eyes reflecting anything but an emotion that could be considered understanding.

“Why?”

His voice is sharp and clipped. Like a blade poised at your throat. There’s no confusion in his tone, no real effort to understand. Just challenge.

You swallow hard, already bracing for the tantrum that’s most likely about to come.

“Because you’re a killer.”

For a moment, there’s silence. A flicker of something unreadable crosses his gaze, but then, an exhale. A slow, measured breath before his lips curl into a smirk. He shakes his head, amusement flashing in his expression, like you just said something ridiculous.

Like you just said the dumbest thing in the universe.

Then, Frank scoffs. A dry, humorless laugh follows as he tilts his head, sizing you up with that same cocky smirk that always comes right before things spiral.

“Well, no shit.” His tone is casual, but there’s tension coiling beneath it, tight and unreadable. His fingers flex, and then... “Didn’t hear you complaining about that when I fucked you just over a little while ago.”

Your stomach tightens. And he sees it.

Oh, he sees it.

His gaze sharpens, watching for the flicker of hesitation, the telltale signs of doubt. He expected you to get angry, to lash out. To give him something he can work with. Because anger? He can handle. Anger is something that he can twist.

Because if you fight, he might as well have won.

If you fight, you both fall into the same rhythm, the same cycle. Where the arguments blur into something heated- sexual. Something he can use to remind you exactly why you need him. How much he needs you. Where he can strip away all your reasons with the weight of his body, the press of his hands, the way he whispers between gritted teeth that you’re fucking his and always will be.

And after that?

He always finds a way to make you see things his way again.

So, he pushes.

“You knew what I was from the start,” he murmurs, stepping forward. His fingers twitch at his sides like he’s resisting the urge to reach for you, to pull you back in. To remind you how easily he can make you forget.

“You’re really gonna pull the morality card now? After everything?” His voice dips lower, rougher. “No one else is gonna love you the way I do, babe. No one’s gonna understand you the way I do. And you damn well know it.”

That’s the hook.

He’s said it before, but this time, it doesn't sink in like it used to.

Because this time, you see it.

How many times have you been here before? How many times has he dangled his love like a chain around your throat, tugging it tight whenever you start pulling away?

You exhale shakily, shaking your head. His fingers twitch again, his control fraying at the edges, but he holds back. Barely.

“That’s not love, Frank.”

A crack. Just for a second. A flicker of something beneath the smirk, something vulnerable, something raw. Then it’s gone.

His lips curl tighter, his jaw flexing before he exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before readjusting his hoodie.

“Fuck. You’re fucking serious.”

You don’t answer.

His jaw clenches. His whole body seems to go rigid, and you feel the weight of his gaze, the way it pins you in place.

This is the moment. The moment where he could snap. Where the mask could slip and he’d decide, right here and now, that if you won’t stay willingly, he’ll make you.

You brace yourself for it. For the anger. For his possessive touch.

But it doesn’t come. Instead, he takes a step back. He's letting you go.

Not because he’s given up.

It’s because he knows... He knows that you’ll come crawling back to him. That you’ll realize, sooner or later, that there’s no one else in this realm who can hold you like he does. That the realms outside of him are cold, cruel and unbearable.

That you need him.

“Fine.” He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets, but his eyes stay locked on you, dark and keenly aware. “Go ahead. Walk away.”

He tilts his head slightly away from you, watching you closely.

“But you’ll be back by my side soon enough.”

It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.

And if he has to chase you to the ends of the Entity’s realms to make it so…

So be it. Because in his mind, it’s far from over.

Joey

Joey's fingers clamp down on your arm, stopping you mid-step as you try to turn away. His grip is firm. There’s no room for escape. Not with the strength he's possessed ever since he was taken by the Fog.

“You can’t do this,” he growls, his voice sharp with a raw intensity you haven’t heard before. “Not now. Not after everything we’ve been through to make this work.”

His chest rises and falls with sharp breaths, his eyes wide, wild and frantic. There’s an edge to his voice now, which slashes through the air like a jagged knife, something that makes your stomach twist in warning. His pulse quickens, his heartbeat thundering in his chest.

You try to pull away, but his hand doesn’t loosen, doesn’t budge. “You think you can just walk away from me? From us? After everything?” His voice cracks, a mixture of frustration and something else that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Joey steps forward, closing the space between you. The Entity’s realms are vast and endless, yet right now, it feels suffocating.

“You think this is just some game?” His words are laced with venom now, his tone harsh. He chuckles bitterly when you don’t respond to his question, but there’s no humor in it. “We made this work. You know we did. You felt it, too.” His eyes lock onto yours, burning. Too intense. His gaze flickers between your face and your lips before snapping back up, like he’s daring you to deny it.

Another step forward, and you can feel his breath on your skin. There’s a visible madness in his gaze now. Familiar, but more intense and dangerous than you can remember. You know that look. It’s the same look he gets before he’s about to push everything too far. That dark, feral hunger that seeps in when his obsession drowns out reason.

“We’re perfect together. You know we are. No one else gets you the way I do. No one else can love you like I can,” he insists, his voice low, almost pleading.

The words are like a punch to your gut, and you flinch, pulling your arm as best you can. But Joey’s hand tightens with bruising pressure, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go for even a second.

“No one else understands you. No one else will fight for you like I will.” He hisses, his teeth gritted, his chest rising and falling with each breath. “You’re mine. You belong to me. You’re mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.” He's crumbling apart. You see the desperation, the panic. He’s not just angry. He’s terrified. Terrified that if you leave, you won’t come back. Terrified that the worlds outside the Entity will pull you away from him forever.

“You can’t leave me, not like this.” His tone is low, almost a growl. “I won’t let you.”

The grip on your arm is crushing now. His hand feels like a vice, his nails pressing into your skin, almost drawing blood. But he doesn’t care. He just wants to keep you close. He doesn’t care about your freedom, doesn’t care about your space. He only cares about you.

His voice softens for a moment, almost tender, but it’s still laced with that possessive, obsessive need. “You’re the only thing that matters. You know I can’t be without you. Please. Don’t do this to me.” His gaze flickers, the rage fighting with the desperation. He’s losing control, and he knows it.

You take a step back. A weak attempt at distancing yourself from him.

He easily follows, closing the gap in a single, bigger stride, his body pressing close enough that you feel the heat of him seeping through his clothes. His breath is hot against your ear, uneven now, like he’s barely keeping himself together.

“I’m not letting you go. You’re not leaving me.” His voice is sharp and final, the edge of a command woven into it. “You think you can get away from me? In this place? With nowhere to go?”

Your heart races, and for a second, you feel suffocated. There’s no way out. Not from him, not from the pull he has over you.

He smiles, but it’s not kind. It’s a dark, knowing smile, full of self-satisfaction. “I won’t let you go. You’ll come back if you manage to leave me. You always come back. You need me.” It’s the truth, as far as he’s concerned.

His eyes gleam with a delusional light, as if he’s certain of your return. And in the pit of your stomach, you feel the unease settle in.

“You can’t escape this,” His lips move, just barely, brushing against your jaw as he whispers, “I’ll make sure of it.”

You try to jerk your arm back again, but it’s like being cuffed to concrete at this point. “You’re mine.” he repeats. “No survivor is ever going to love you the way I do. None of them will ever understand you.” And then, before you can react, his lips are on yours.

Brief. Unrelenting. Not a kiss. Not really. It’s more like a claim. A reassurance.

When he pulls back, his breath is still warm against your skin, his grip still locked around you like a promise he’ll never let break.

“I’m the only one who does, and always will.”

And with that final, chilling declaration, you know; he’s not letting go. Not now. Not ever.

Julie

Julie presses the back of her hand against her nose, as if that alone could smother the frustration flickering across her features. Her breath comes in slow, deep and controlled. When she finally meets your gaze again, her expression is calm and her voice steady.

"We made this work for so long. Why are you trying to throw it away now?"

There’s no anger in her tone. Only quiet disappointment, something that tugs at the edges of your chest despite everything.

You hesitate.

She notices.

She tilts her head slightly, waiting, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make you second-guess yourself.

"Because the other survivors are starting to suspect me," you finally say, voice lower than you intended. "Think about it. If you were one of us, wouldn’t it seem at least a little strange? A certain survivor slipping away at odd times, more often than the rest, despite killers lurking beyond the campfire’s light?"

You shake your head. "How long before they start asking real questions? Before they may turn on me?"

Julie exhales through her nose, her fingers flexing for just a second before she releases them, smoothing her palms over her jeans.

"Me and the rest can protect you from them," she says. There’s certainty in her voice, a confidence that makes it sound almost silly to be worried. "You know that, right?"

Your frown deepens.

"That’s not the point. I don’t-"

"Maybe there’s an even better solution," she interrupts smoothly.

You narrow your eyes. "And what’s that?"

Julie’s lips part in a small, knowing smile. It’s soft, reassuring. But there’s something behind it. Calculated, which makes the air feel just a bit heavier.

"Stop being a survivor."

Your stomach drops.

"But-“

"You don’t have to become a killer," she continues, as if she hadn’t just shattered your reality in a single breath. "Not if you don’t want to. But there are other ways you can help. You could stay at the resort with me. Live with me there, away from all the trials and all the danger."

She inches closer, voice quieter now, persuasive, patient. "It’ll be like you never even left the survivor camp. I’ll make sure the others accept you. I’ll talk to Frank. I’ll talk to Susie and Joey. You know they trust me. That we are one."

You feel like you should argue, should push back, but her words are flowing around you like sweet milk, smoothing over the sharp edges of your doubt.

Because she sounds so reasonable.

Because she always knows exactly what to say to make you reconsider.

"Julie." You take a slow breath. "That’s not normal. You know that, right?"

She laughs under her breath, shaking her head slightly. "Not normal?" Her lips part into something almost amused. "You’re saying that like anything about these realms has ever been normal."

She reaches out, her fingers grazing your wrist. Not gripping. Just a gentle touch.

"Think about it, babe," she murmurs, voice dipping into something softer, dangerously close to affection. "What do you really have left with them?"

Her fingers trace lightly up your forearm, her touch feather light, almost absentminded, like she isn’t trying to persuade you, like she isn’t watching every reaction on your face with laser focus.

"They’re already suspicious of you. You know that. It’s only a matter of time before they push you out, before they stop trusting you completely."

She shifts slightly, her thumb smoothing over your pulse.

"But me?" Her smile widens. "I’ll never turn on you. Not like they will."

There’s a promise in her words, one that sounds so sweet, so tempting. A future with her, safe, far from the trials, far from the fear of being hunted every single moment.

But your gut twists.

"You want me to leave everything behind? For you?"

Julie blinks at you, then lets out a soft, almost pitying scrape of her voice. "I’m not making you do anything. I’m giving you a choice. The smartest choice you’ll ever make."

Her eyes darken slightly, her fingers pressing just a little bit firmer against your skin. But not too firm, as it’s her attempt to an act of comfort.

"One that’s going to save you from any more harm."

Susie

She’s trembling.

You can’t tell if it’s from anger, shock, or some toxic mixture of both. Her wide eyes bore into you. Unblinking and unreadable. Her chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths, like she’s struggling just to keep herself grounded.

Her hands twitch at her sides. Like she can’t decide whether to grab you or brace herself before she completely falls apart.

Then, a giggle. Soft. Breathless. Almost… wrong.

"You're joking."

The words slip out in a whisper, followed by another quiet laugh- fragile, forced, like she’s trying to convince herself this is all just some stupid joke.

The dim light catches the metallic glint of her braces when she grins, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

You don’t answer.

Her smile twitches. The trembling gets worse.

"You are joking, right?"

There’s something off in her voice now, cracking at the seams. You hear it in the way her breath hitches, in the way her fingers curl into the fabric of her hoodie, gripping it so tight you can practically hear the material strain under the pressure.

You swallow hard.

"Susie… I-"

She lunges.

Her hands grasp your shirt, twisting the fabric in her fists as she presses herself closer. Her breath is coming out in quick, frantic puffs. Her wide, dilated eyes bore into yours, wavering somewhere between devastation and blind, desperate hope.

"You don’t mean that."

Her voice is higher now, almost childlike in its insistence.

"You love me. You said you love me. You wouldn’t leave me."

Your pulse jumps. You take a step back, but she clings to you, her fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes. Her knuckles go pale from how tightly she’s holding on.

"You’re just confused," she whispers, voice thinning. "That’s all. You’re saying things you don’t mean. Maybe you’re tired. Maybe those stupid Survivors put weird ideas in your head." She laughs again. Short and hiccupy. It’s not right.

"It’s okay! It’s okay! I can fix it. You just have to tell me what I need to change."

Her fingers trail up, shaking hands cupping your face. Her touch is almost gentle, except for the tremor in her fingertips, the erratic way her breathing stutters in her throat. Her expression shifts. Unstable laughter fading into a sickly sweet lilt of the voice.

"I won’t let you forget how much I actually love you."

Her thumbs brush over your cheeks in slow, feather light strokes- affectionate, even. But her body is still trembling, her breath still uneven.

Then, her grip tightens. Her nails almost bite into your skin, enough to send a prickle of discomfort through you. Her pupils narrow.

A sharp edge slices through whatever fragile calm she had been trying to hold onto.

"You can’t leave me until I have." The words are flat.

The shift is instant. One moment, she’s pleading. The next, she’s something else entirely. She’s swinging in a way you’ve never seen her do before.

"No, no, no, no, no," she mutters under her breath like a broken record, her entire frame vibrating with unchecked emotion. "You cannot leave me."

Then, she shoves you. Hard. An easy feat due to the Entity’s gift. One given to every killer.

Your back collides with the nearest surface, knocking the air from your lungs. You barely have a second to recover before she’s on you again, staring at you.

Her eyes are too wide, pupils swallowing what little color remains. Her pink-dyed strands of hair are messy, sticking to her damp forehead, clinging to the edges of her hoodie like static. The sleeves hang loose around her wrists, but her fingers twitch at the cuffs; grasping, flexing, restless.

"Why are you doing this to me?!"

Her voice cracks, raw and piercing.

Her nails scrape against your shoulders. Digging in just enough to make you flinch.

"You don’t get it, do you?!" she chokes out, breath hitching, face twisting. "You don’t get how much I love you! How much I need you!"

She’s unraveling, falling deeper into something dangerous, something you can’t pull her out of anymore.

"I gave you everything! And there’s still so much left to give!" Her voice wavers, a tremor shaking through her frame. She’s not making any sense…

Then, suddenly, her hands rip away from you. Instead, she tangles them into her pink hair, clutching at the strands, her body trembling as she sucks in sharp, stuttering breaths.

Like she’s physically trying to hold herself together.

Her chest rises and falls too quickly, her hoodie slipping slightly from her shoulder, revealing a faint hickey, old and fading, one of many. Her fingers tighten in her hair.

Then, slowly. Too slowly. She lifts her head.

And she smiles.

Not her usual shy, uncertain smile.

This one is different.

"You’re funny."

Her voice is sweet again. Sing-song and all. It makes your skin crawl.

She takes a slow step forward. Calculated. Amused.

"You really think you can break up with me?"

A giggle bubbles up, soft and giddy.

"That’s cute, babe. Really cute."

Her fingers ghost up your arm. Barely a touch, featherlight.

But the finality in her voice makes your stomach twist.

"We are a couple. I won’t let you break us apart."

She’s still trembling from the emotional whiplash, but her grip is steady when she reaches for your wrist, fingers curling around it with deceptive gentleness.

"We belong together."

A hum, followed by the tilt of her head.

"And I’ll make sure you never forget that again."

She presses closer.

Her breath ghosts over your skin.

"Because if you do?"

Her lips barely brush against yours as she breathes out the next words, sending a shiver down your spine.

"I’ll make sure to remind you why you fell for me in the first place."

#yandere #dbd #dbd x reader #dead by daylight #reader insert #the legion #frank morrison #julie kostenko #susie lavoie #joey

72 notes · View notes

witherby · 4 months ago

Note

two completely unrelated asks

bc of the 'littlest villain au' ask, what about the opposite, where in kon goes villain-mode (but mouse is alive, i can see mouse dying as a villain origin for him) how are they dealing with that?

and second, bc i just got back from my last final exam this term, how do the batfam handle mouse failing a class or exam? do they try and find the issue and fix it immediately, by helping study even in a slightly overbearing way, or do they let mouse learn to work thru failure/just listen to them if they need to vent without trying to fix it right away? (if that wording makes sense, i'm brain fired)

If Kon decided to become a villain, it could go either way for Mouse I think. One of those ways is for Conner to become a yandere, which I don't write, so let's assume he managed to convince them to join his cause legitimately.

He's spitting straight fax, no printer. All of his reasons for crashing out seem perfectly valid for some reason. Mouse is throwing question after question at him and he's got every single answer locked and loaded. With the help of some puppydog eyes and a quiet "you don't have to like it. I'll understand if you have to see me as an enemy now, but I will never hurt you," Mouse sighs and nods their assent. As long as he swears off hurting any of the bats, they're in.

From here, we have to make a choice. Is Conner trying to take over the Earth, is he trying to conquer other planets, or is he only "evil" because he isn't obeying the No Kill rule? That'll determine how much resistance he's facing from the JL and general civilian populace. He'll find the most success by ignoring the No Kill rule. If Jason gets a pass, and the JL is comfortable slaughtering invading alien species coming to earth, why doesn't he get to snap a few necks?

"If you kill a killer there's still just as many killers in the world!" Shut up. Just kill more than one killer and your reasoning falls apart. Besides, how many people will he really have to off before Earth's quality of life sees a huge increase? Ten? Twenty? Kick the Joker and there's already a significant improvement. Pop off Lex and 3/4 of Superman's problems vanish immediately. Stop giving these idiots ten thousand chances to amend and take the goddamn shot.

So, in short, he'd play fast and loose with ending lives vs sparing them much like Jason. But I don't want a Jason copycat, so Mouse is the true villain between them and Conner is the loyal lapdog.

Oh, unless we think he might want to make a Krypton Vers. 2. The first planet's downfall was because of resource mismanagement. He could do better. Yeah, that's an interesting idea...

And, to your second question, they'd do their very best to help you, perhaps overbearingly, but overall they want you to know that your academic weaknesses do not make you less worthy of love and adoration. Just do your best! That's all they can ask of you! Whatever the result, they're proud of you for trying!

#el speaks #littlest wayne au #littlest villain au #batfam x reader #gn reader #conner kent x reader #kon el x reader

89 notes · View notes

fictioncupid · 2 months ago

Text

Put the World on the Demolition Strip Baby; We're Gonna Watch the Sunrise. (they/them ver) (NSFW)

Looking for the he/him version?

Ao3 link! - Put the World on the Demolition Strip Baby; We're Gonna Watch the Sunrise.

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT REBLOG OR COMMENT. (This is my new writing blog! This is not stolen content! I've just moved!)

Summary:

Ronin’s sat above you, weight resting heavy over one of your thighs with his hands braced near your head, dark red-purple hair falling in heavy strands around your face. There’s blood on his cheek, smudged. It’s not his own. You want to lick it off him. You can feel the weight of his crowbar creasing a heavy dent on the pillow above your head. It should scare you. To know that your boyfriend is a vicious murderer. That his favourite murder weapon of choice is resting so close to you. You can smell the blood on it, have been able to since you opened the bag, since he walked in with it. It only serves to rile you up more. Your hips twitch upwards in tiny little humping movements. Ronin's grinning so wide it almost splits his face. God, there must be something wrong with you to want this so much.

OR,

todays the day you get intimately acquainted with Ronin's crowbar.

12,215 words :)

Pronouns & genital terms used!:

Ronin- he/him, cock, cunt

Reader- they/them, clit, pussy, cunt, entrance

CW/TW under cut! THIS IS DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT CONTENT. READ THE CW, HEED THE CW; IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, DON'T READ IT!

CW: D/S dynamics, sex, power imbalances, blood (not period), some dysphoria talk relating to bottom growth (dw we resolve it, no unresolved trans angst in my porn nuh-uh), uh Ronin being gross and reader being unapologetically into it.

TW: unhealthy relationship dynamics? (like don’t actually date a serial killer that shit CANNOT be good for you) blood, BLOOD, murder mentions, deranged thinking, inappropriate use of a crowbar, complete ignorance of blood borne pathogens and safe sex, uhhhh sexy murder talk, also MAD sexualisation of murder and serial killing throughout the whole thing

Also, ik ronin’s technically had both top n bottom surgery in like the quasi-canon of tumblr facts but i am currently horny for bottom growth and tdicks so TRY AND STOP ME YOU CANNOT MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

××××××××××

You already knew your boyfriend was a killer. Had known since you joined that damn chat server, way before you met him in person, but this is the first time you’ve seen the evidence first hand. As something more than just a news article or a ‘funny’ photograph dumped in #killer-shit by Ronin himself. …You didn't expect to find it so thrilling.

You’d always told yourself you were okay with it. That you would learn to be okay with it. Hells, you met Ronin for the first time in the alleyway he likes to commit his murders in, it's not like you could claim ignorance.

He'd been covered in blood then too, but you'd brushed past it. Told yourself it was his own. That Ronin's nose was bleeding when you met him. That's where the blood was from. That you were a good person and you could save him. Fix him. Told yourself that you wanted to. You had to, right? Never mind that you only decided all this after you’d gotten home, heart racing with adrenaline from your little meetup, telling yourself that the throbbing in your clit was from ‘misattribution of arousal’ and not how electric it had felt to have Ronin kiss you in the place he normally kills people.

Still, you've never been able to crush the niggling little worry that when you come face to face with it, when you are finally confronted with evidence so overwhelming that you can deny it no longer, that you’d balk. Turn tail and run for the hills because as much as you love your boyfriend- you are no killer. You can’t even really stomach the sight of blood. Normally it makes you sick and queasy. So you avoid it; as much as you can, you dodge and drop the topic like it’s on fire and you’re out of water so you have to avoid getting burned.

Ronin seems to have more faith in you though. Whether it stems from your unwavering addiction devotion to his devilish persona, or from the glassy eyed stare you gave him that day in Purgatory when he brought out his knife. How you didn’t even flinch when he pressed it to your throat, just stared into his wild, wicked eyes and whispered, ‘so are you kissing me now, or after? I have to say I’d much prefer now.’

That had Ronin cracking up. He’d lowered the knife in favour of clutching his knees, bent over double as a wild cackle ripped free from his throat. When he finally stopped laughing enough to speak he'd said, ‘I, a certified serial killer, the butcher, the devil himself, just threatened your life and you’re asking me to kiss you? Awh baby, darlin’. I’ve thought as much before, but now I’m certain that we’re a match made in hell.’ Ronin had then crowded you into the wall, gently pressed the knife into your hands, cupped your face and kissed you. It’d taken your breath away. Still does to think about it.

You could have killed him then. Probably should of. It's what he was suggesting when he handed you the knife; giving you an out if you really were somehow bluffing. That was Ronin through and through; impossibly kind in the most deranged possible manner. And you loved him.

But the thought had crossed your mind, once or twice. That maybe you weren't built for this. For him. You can’t look at the news articles he posts in announcements, or the photos in #killer-shit, or watch scary movies with him without crying and screaming at the tension, the jumpscares, and the gore. Always trying to hide in the fabric of his shirt, behind his jacket, hands pressed tight over your ears to block out the sounds. You’re pretty sure the only reason Ronin’s okay with it is that he finds your innocence endearing, cute even, and your tears hot. Proven by how he forces you to sit still afterwards, both hands gripping your face tight so you can’t back away from him as he looms above you, blocking out the light from the television so all you can see is him. Vision filled with his devilish beauty; his face twisting in a mock version of pity as he traces the path your tears took with his fingers.

The television behind Ronin serving to make him look like a fallen angel by Christening him with a halo of blue light, spilling out from behind the little plastic horns glued to his beanie. He’d be sickened by the thought. Ronin leaning in and licking the tears off your face. Shushing you softly and rubbing his thumb over your lip when you open your mouth to ask why? You don’t get it.

But Ronin fucks you so sweetly when he’s done. You think it’s a prize for withstanding the horror, his horror. That, or it turns him when you let him push you so close to the edge, let him make you cry and tremble with fear before soothing it away with the thick line of his cock. He always lets you curl into his chest afterwards, rocks you to sleep while reciting odd, esoteric poetry from the depths of his mind that you think might be about how much he loves you. You hope.

But you do worry- or, you did worry, that one day Ronin would come home to you while covered in proof that he was out hunting more than just animals, or that one day you would read the wrong article about him, or that someone would tell you about a gruesome murder done by none other than the ‘devilish butcher’, and you’d never be able to look at him the same again. That the room wouldn’t light up around his smile anymore. Instead it would seep sinister into your dreams and invade the cracks in your head with its polluting light and then you would have to leave. Quietly. Unable to face the man you love and tell him you’ve finally realised what he’s been telling you all along: that he’s a monster.

Well, that day is today. You heard Ronin leave early this morning, slide out of bed while it was still dark, too dark for him to be leaving for work, despite your whining and pleading for ‘five more minutes’. Telling him, ‘nooooo ‘Nin, cuddles,’ when Ronin chuckled and said he had work to do. You’d drifted grumpily back into a half sleep when you felt a gloved hand brush over your forehead before Ronin stooped to press a gentle kiss there.

‘I’ll be back real soon, darlin’. Keep dreaming of me while I’m gone.’ You’d opened your eyes blearily to catch sight of him leaving, dressed all in black with a mask pulled up over his mouth and nose. Ronin had waved his crowbar at you merrily before tucking it in his coat and under his arm and strutting jauntily out the door. You’d thought he looked like an angel then too. Not that you’d ever tell him that. It wasn’t until sometime later, after you’d woken up properly and had some time to think about it, that you realised this was the first confirmed time you’d seen him leave to go kill someone.

You’d seen him after he’d killed plenty of times before, when he was still loopy and ecstatic from the thrill and the rush, but the perks of not living together fully yet had meant it was usually after he’d showered. And while he was one to brag, he never seemed to go into specifics, at least not with you. He was usually more preoccupied with bedding you anyways. Excitement leaking into his movements as he’d throw you onto the bed, grin at your outraged squeaks and then shut you up by rutting his thick cock against your mouth until he was satisfied.

But this time, this time is different. This time you know where he’s going, what he’s doing. And you’re just sitting around his apartment, docile, waiting for him to come back. Drinking tea and making breakfast like nothing is different. And maybe it isn’t. It certainly doesn’t feel different. That’s what you’re convincing yourself anyways. Until Ronin opens the door with a slam and struts in, whistling. You don’t jump like you usually do, a phased calm shifting over you when you see him, like you’re settled in your own skin for the first time in your life; like you didn’t even realise something was wrong until suddenly it wasn’t.

Black backpack in one hand, Ronin is conspicuously free of both his gloves, his mask and his crowbar. He almost looks normal when he sees you, but his eyes are wild when you make eye contact. You freeze in place, standing off the side of his kitchenette after placing your dishes in the sink. Ronin’s grin is feral, laced with something evil and you should be scared. You want to be scared as his eyes scan up and down your body, dressed only in one of his worn out oversized sleep shirts; Ronin looks upon you like prey and you shiver.

There’s blood on his face. Just a trickle by his mouth, obscure and miniscule enough it could be his own but you can’t deny it any more. It’s not his. It's someone else’s. Someone he’s killed. Your boyfriend is a killer. A stone cold killer, for the sick, sick thrill. Your legs feel weak and your head spins with how quickly all the blood in your body rushes south, at the thought of how dangerous he is. Your clit twitches in anticipation as if to say ‘hello Ronin, darling. How I've missed you.’

‘Hey there darlin’. Got you all pavlov’d up for me, huh baby?’ Ronin’s eyes are dark with delight as they flick from your face to where you're fidgeting and rubbing your thighs together to try alleviate the heavy ache in your clit. ‘Just can’t wait to have my cock split open those pretty little folds of yours, can you? Well, too bad. You’ll have to be patient while I put this away first, but then I’m all yours darlin’.’ Ronin winks at you comically. You don't laugh, you can’t.

Ronin gestures with the bag to show you what he’s talking about and the word, ‘Don’t.’ slips out your mouth before you can think to stop it. He raises an eyebrow at you.

‘What’s got my sweet little saint all riled up today?’ Ronin’s looking at you with curiosity on his face, clearly expecting an answer but you don't have one. You barely have any thoughts at all other than the raging need to see it, to see proof with your own eyes.

You get to your feet with your pulse racing and your hands numb and tingling. It feels like all the blood in your body is in your head. Or your feet. Or your cunt. It thrumbs heartily with every step you take towards him. The excitement and thrill starts to slip off Ronin’s face and he’s watching you with a calculating look, like he knows today's the day. It softens slightly when you slip one hand into his, press a soft kiss to his lips and gently take the bag from him with your other hand.

The bag’s heavier than it looks, and it should repulse you- the thought that there’s a murder weapon in here, a heavy metal crowbar stained with blood. Someone else's blood. The weight of it should spring a sick dose of reality to the forefront of your mind but as you kneel before the bag and slowly unzip it all you can picture is how strong Ronin is to be able to swing such a heavy implement at someone accurately and with ease. How he'd look in the moment. The strong lines of his shoulder and back, the tension in his arms and the ecstatic- no, the crazed expression he must have as he swings the crowbar above his head and brings it down again and again with one sick crunch after another.

You feel like you can't get enough air though you're breathing heavier than you should be. Your face is aflame and it’s making you dizzy. You shove the sides of the backpack down with shaking hands, and it’s there. Wrapped in a white plastic bag, you can see the thick outline of the metal and the blood that’s pooling in the folds and creases of the bag around it. You reach out to peel the plastic back but a hand catches you by the chin, and turns your head to face him: Ronin. Your God. Your devil.

Ronin’s taken his jacket off, kneeling on one knee as he looks at you with curiosity and stress on his face. Like he’s equally fascinated and worried by your reaction. That is, until he catches sight of your blown pupils and open mouth, watches the way your eyes race across his features, between his brown eyes and soft lips. Darting down to trace the line of his body, your gaze flickers back and forth between his strong arms, the slope of his pecs, and the crease in his trousers hiding the bulge of his cock. You lick your lips, mouth startlingly dry.

Ronin’s face cracks into a wide grin, eyes starting to relight with the fire from his kill, ‘Well hello there, lost little lamb. Are you in need of a Shepherd? Or ‘ve you finally found what you’ve been lookin’ for?’ His gaze lands on the bag and you look at it, mouth dry, and then look at him, like you’re waiting for permission, his permission. Ronin raises his brows at you, delighted grin on his features, tip of his tongue sticking out between his teeth, challenging you.

You turn back to the bag, are just reaching in it when you feel the heavy weight of your boyfriend settle itself along your back. His head rests in the crook of your neck, content to just watch as his hands stroke lightly up and down the sides of your stomach.

Your hands are shaking as you reach in the bag, gently peel back the plastic. The bag sticks to itself in the places there's blood pooling. The blood gets on your hands as you unwrap it. It's wet. And cold. Did you want it to be warm? Hot with life? Spurting from a still beating heart in a steady wet, hot pump? You shudder, full bodied and Ronin cackles, delighted by your reaction, beside your ear, leaning in to press a kiss against your cheek as you slide your fingers under the crowbar, feeling the heavy weight of it.

‘You like it, baby? You feel it? You like me?’ One of Ronin’s hands slides down to press against the front of your crotch and you gasp, hips rutting up into the feeling. Ronin inhales sharply, you feel it against your temple. ‘Awh, baby. Darlin’. Fucking knew it. Knew you wanted this since that day in Purgatory, before that, even. Might have been able to hide it from everyone else with your little ‘innocent lamb’ act but I knew you wanted more the second you entered the slaughterhouse and didn’t run screaming for the hills. You’re a sick, sick pervert huh?’

Ronin huffs a laugh against your temple and you want to say something, anything to deny it, deny him, but your hips are humping up against his hand in these minute, fricative little pulses you can’t quite control and you’re more turned on than you’ve ever been in your life. You squirm in his arms. Ronin slides his hand down, large fingers pressing firmly against the soaked seat of your underwear, rocking them back and forth gently until his middle finger settles between your folds, presses a delicious friction up against your clit.

‘Just had to bring it out in you, didn’t I darlin’? You needed the devil to come along and corrupt your sweet little aorta so you wouldn’t have to take the blame, wouldn’t have to admit that you like this. That you want this, almost as much as you want me. Isn’t that right, baby?’ Ronin’s voice is barely a whisper but you hear every word loud and clear. Your face burns and your pussy is throbbing with need.

You whimper, high pitched in your throat and Ronin shushes you, presses a gentle kiss to your fluttering eyelid. ‘Shhhh, don’t you worry, darlin’. I’ll take all the blame this time. Now, let the devil take you on down to hell.’ Ronin is going to be the death of you. You moan low in your throat and press your cunt harder against his hand, he rubs slow circles over your clit with the top of his palm, presses two fingers firmly over your entrance and rubs them over it.

Your fingers grasp shut on the thick, cold, hard metal of the crowbar. It’s positively wet with blood. Ronin laughs by your ear again, a high pitched giggle you’ve never heard him make before. It sounds exactly as deranged as his usual cackling laugh. You turn your head to look at him, nose brushing his face you’re so close and he says, ‘watch’ as he slides his hands to cover your own. The one that was down your pants is sticky and wet where it lays over the back of your hand. Your breath stutters at the loss of friction against your pussy. Ronin presses a kiss against the side of your eye. ‘Patience, baby. Patience. Good things come to those who wait, don’t ‘cha know?’ He laughs again, a light huff of breath ghosting over your eyelashes. You’re not sure if it's directed at you or his own words. You really don’t care.

Ronin turns one of your hands over. Adjusts your grip so you have one hand wrapped tight around the bottom of the crowbar and the other supporting slightly above it. You feel lightheaded. Ronin’s hands are wrapped tight over yours as he lifts them up, raises them up beside your head, as if you’re going to- as if you could- ‘Ready, darlin’?’ Ronin asks, voice a sickly low drawl. You can feel your clit twitching a steady one-two. Thumping away with your heartbeat in your underwear. You swallow thickly. Ronin tightens his grip over yours, then resettles and rests more of his weight against your back.

It feels like he’s everywhere. You can’t think. You can only imagine how hard he must be. Cock twitching away in his underwear. You think of him fucking you. You think of fucking him. His face as he moans. You think of the crowbar pressed tight across your throat, the wild grin on Ronins face as he’d watch the light slip from your eyes; if he would stop before it was too late.

‘I asked you a question darlin’.’

You can’t look away from your tight grip on the crowbar. Your hands, wet and sticky with blood, seeping between your fingers and dribbling down over your knuckles. The vivid red colour smudging underneath Ronin’s tight grip over your hands. You don’t think you’re breathing. You nod, minutely, fractured, frantically. Unable or unwilling to make a bigger move lest it wretch your sight from where you need it.

You feel the tension in your boyfriend's arms as they pull back slightly, the thickness of his muscles as they recoil and, ‘Whoosh! Ha-ha!’, let go. Your arms swing forwards, the motion contained and precise, using only the exact needed strength and precision to knock the now empty backpack straight into the wall. A whimper leaves your throat, high pitched and strangled. The feeling- when the swing connected, the contraction of Ronin’s muscular arms around you, how powerful the blow had felt. You’re gonna pass out. The jolt of electricity you feel in your clit almost hurts. Your hips rock down, seeking friction that isn’t there.

‘Ronin.’ It comes out gasped, guttural, full of want and need.

‘Yeah. You like it, baby? You like me, huh? In all my grotesque delight?’ Ronin presses his grin to your cheek; you’re sure it would be a kiss if he could stop smiling. ‘Sweet little thing finally realised they’re dating The Butcher? Also known as The Devil Himself, darlin’.’ Ronin’s nosing against your face as he says this, you can feel his wicked smile brushing your cheek as he does. You lean back against him, squirming, trying to rub yourself against him or turn around to see him, but Ronin tightens his grip on your hands, brings your focus back to the crowbar and says, ‘ah-ah-ah, we’re not quite done yet baby. How about… some target practice?’

Ronin lets go of your hands, slides out from behind you and saunters into the kitchen.

He flashes you a winning smile before slamming open one of the kitchen cupboards with a bang. Ronin watches you for your reaction; always does when he pulls shit like this, but you barely even notice the noise. Hands limp around the crowbar, it rests heavy against your thighs, leaving bloody red smudges on them. Your eyes are fixated instead on Ronin’s broad shoulders. How the blood on his hands is leaving smudges against the white cupboard doors.

You’re so weak in the knees about it- about him, that when Ronin waves you over to the kitchen counter while setting a series of increasingly ugly mugs against its edge, you forget about the crowbar and stumble as the weight of it pulls you forward. Your knees buckle beneath you, and you land sprawled out on the carpet. You hear Ronin laugh from somewhere above you while you’re still staring at the carpet in shock. You watch as his spiked shoes stride slowly into view. When Ronin bends at the waist and his face swims into your vision, he’s wearing the same twisted version of faux-pity he wears after you’ve white-knuckled it through a horror movie with him.

‘Awh, sweetheart… Somebody’s desperate. You just can’t get enough of me, can you?’ He boops his knuckle against your cheeks and then your nose. Embarrassment floods through you, tinting your face red. You should be affronted. Humiliated. Or maybe some shade of afraid, but it’s hard to be with your sweet, loving, murderous boyfriend leaning over you with an entirely fond look on his face. Eyes alight like you’re what he’s been waiting for since the dawn of time, or, since the birth of Lucifer. Arousal curls hotly around your spine and joins the rutting, swirling mess in your gut. The sticky, wet-hot mess in your panties. The thought swims through your mind that you could come from just this; him standing over you, mocking you so sweetly. Maybe if he put the sole of his boot against your clit then…

‘R-Ronin…’

Ronin puts a hand behind his ear, tilts his head towards you in an over-exaggerated pretence of listening, ‘What’s that, sweetheart?’ You swallow, mouth dry.

‘Ronin.’

‘One more time, say my name, darlin’.’ It’s obvious he’s teasing you. Has been since the very start, but then an idea strikes you, and you can’t not.

‘Butcher.’ Falls from your lips, breathless and Ronin groans. It’s the first time you’ve acknowledged it out loud. He turns his upper body away from you for a second, running his hand through his hair. His beanie falls off and hits the lino behind him with a clatter but neither of you turn to look at it. There’s blood in his hair when he faces you again. Sticking strands of it together as it falls back in his face and the look on it, half-pained, half-giddy, flushed red high on his cheekbones.

‘What you do to me, darlin’. Flesh ‘n’ bone pretty, I told you.’ It comes out choked, less drawled than usual and your heartbeat skips a wicked step to be having an effect on him too.

‘Still, we should save that for after. C’mere, upsy daisies.’ Ronin says as he tucks his hands under your armpits and drags you to stand on your wobbly legs. Holy shit your boyfriend is strong.

You leave the crowbar on the floor. Have no choice but to. You crowd into Ronin’s space as soon as you’re able, put your hands on his neck, his cheeks, follow the action by pressing kisses to the blood left behind by your hands. Ronin laughs the whole time, and he’s beautiful. He puts his hands on your hips and pulls you into him. Catches you in a blinding, tummy fluttering, pussy burning kiss. One hand gripped tight on the back of your neck, the other tugs at the front of your panties until they slip up between your pussy lips.

‘Roniinnn.’ You whine. He presses wet, hot kisses down your neck like a trail of fire.

‘What? You don’t like it? I think you look rather… ravishing, like this. Could just devour you like this.’ Ronin tugs on your underwear again and again and it pulls tight around your clit, you moan in stuttering little breaths at the friction. ‘Sounds like you do.’ Ronin groans, kisses open mouthed at your neck. You shake your head, movement restricted by his tight grip on the back of your neck, his lips slide wetly against your skin. Ronin bares his teeth against your neck, not biting, but warning, and you freeze. ‘I think you do~’ Ronin murmurs, singsong. He uses his grip on the back of your neck to make you nod. You’ve never been more turned on and more embarrassed at the same time.

‘No?’ Ronin pulls away from your neck to look you in the eye. Your face is burning with shame. You shake your head minutely, unable to hold eye contact with him as you lie. ‘Shame.’ Ronin mutters. He nips at your neck with his teeth, if it felt anything other than good you’d think it’s punishment for lying to him. He presses an open mouthed, wet kiss against it after, laves his tongue over it like he’s apologising but you know he’s just enjoying tasting the bruise.

Ronin then yanks your underwear down your legs in one smooth motion, and pulls away to lead you to the counter with his fingers linked through yours. He pauses briefly, stooping down to pick up the crowbar at your feet. ‘Can’t forget this now can we?’ He waves it at you cheekily. ‘Alright,’ Ronin looks over his shoulder at you, ‘C’mere darlin’, I don’t bite.’

That’s a bold faced lie; Ronin does bite, the bastard, but you shuffle up behind him anyways. Wrap your arms around him and attempt to peak over his shoulder but you’re too short. You can just sort of make out his hands as he lines up ugly mug after ugly mug.

‘Not pugsley!’ You gasp. Pugsley is a truly horrific, yellow, pug-faced, square shaped mug with an inside lip that creates a circle rim. You got it at a yard sale. It’s impossible to drink out of. At some point Ronin superglued googly eyes over the pugs' own to create this truly awful 3D effect. You both delight in serving the other beverages in it at seemingly random moments, hoping to catch the other off guard and startle them into laughter. The rule being that if you laugh then you have to drink out of it. Which is impossible, and usually a hilarious speedrun of how fast one person can spill a drink down themselves. Ronin gets you more than you get him, but the few memorable moments where you caught him off guard enough to succeed are more than worth it.

Ronin laughs, ‘Alright, alright. Not pugsley.’ You’re sure he only put him in the lineup to start with to get a reaction out of you. He puts his fingers on the top of the mug and sends it sliding towards the sink. It falls in with a clatter. You hope it didn’t break.

Ronin lines up four mugs, one in front, three behind, and places the crowbar down beside them. It sticks briefly to his hands where the blood is starting to dry. You watch his skin peel away from it with your heart in your throat. ‘Now come here.’ Ronin grabs you from behind him and pulls you round in front of him.

‘What are we doing?’ Your clit still feels heavy and hot and present between your legs and you think that there are other things you’d much rather be doing with your boyfriend at this very second.

‘I told you darlin’. Target practice.’ Ronin waves a hand fluidly as the scene in front of him. Oh. So that’s what he was doing. You consider complaining, putting it off and dragging your boyfriend to bed but if it’s target practice, if he’s teaching you, then surely you’ll get to see him swing his crowbar at least once. That’s not something you can gloss over and pretend you don’t want, because oh boy do you want. Plus, the rewards for playing along with whatever challenge Ronin sets for you that day tend to be on the more generous side, and you really want to see what his sick mind cooks up for you this time. Your pussy will survive this brief pause.

‘Usually I prefer my targets a little more… alive. But, I’ll make an exception. For you, this once.’ The look Ronin gives you is playful, but you can’t be sure if he means it. There’s as much chance that the next time Ronin lets you touch his crowbar may be as contingent on the idea of you killing someone as it’s not. The thought sends a sick, desperate thrill down your spine.

Ronin guides you in front of him, hands on your waist, ‘Feet shoulder width apart.’ His voice is a mocking drawl. You do it anyway. ‘Good job baby!’ He’s talking down to you, like you’re a child. It shouldn’t turn you on but it does. You shudder in response. Ronin wraps his arms around you, over your shoulders. Dances his fingertips down your arms to settle them over your hands. He wraps them around the crowbar, tight and draws both your arms back.

‘You wanna bend your knees, be about thiiiss far away from your target,’ He measures the distance between you and the counter with his arm, then reapplies his grip over yours. He slides your top hand down towards the bottom, ‘And keep a good, tight grip, just like that, but you don’t wanna grip it too high. You’ll catch your hand in the swing and soften the blow. Can’t crack any skulls when you’re pullin’ your punches now can ya’, darlin’?’

Ronin demonstrates the swing trajectory a few times, pulling your hands through the motions to practice. You’re nervous, heart racing like this is the real thing. Your hands dip slightly when Ronin lets go and steps back, the crowbar is heavy and the full weight of it pulls them down slightly. You’re struck once again with awe over how strong Ronin is.

‘Try line up your shot first.’ Ronin’s hand presses against the small of your back when you don’t move. You breathe in slowly through your nose, then exhale through your mouth. You hear Ronin take a few steps back. You line the curved tip of the crowbar up with the mug, practice your shot, once, twice, pull back and then swing. The mug explodes when the crowbar connects with it. You see it in slow motion. The pieces fly everywhere. You stumble as the weight of the crowbar and the momentum of the swing pull you along with it before Ronin’s arms catch you around your waist and keep you from falling.

You giggle hysterically when the world catches back up to you and you’re held safely in your boyfriend’s arms, crowbar held stiffly and awkwardly out in front of you. Your elbows ache slightly. You lean your head back against Ronin’s shoulder to see his face in all its beauty. His eyes are dark as he looks at you and all you can think is how much you love him. How much you want him. You’re maybe a little high off the thrill. The rush. This is a murder weapon. Your boyfriend’s murder weapon. It’s been used to kill people. Your boyfriend kills people. Your pussy flutters back to life now that the pressure is off. You did good. You feel good. You try rubbing your thighs together to get some friction against your clit.

‘Good job, baby.’ This one isn’t mocking, it’s entirely sincere and you squirm under the weight of it. Ronin doesn’t give direct compliments easy. He presses a kiss to your temple and laughs loudly, ‘I’ll make a murderer out of you yet.’ It’s something Ronin says to you often, and you usually laugh it off, brushing it under the rug of ‘usual Ronin antics’, but, maybe he’s been serious this whole time. The thought makes you gulp. Your pussy is drooling between your thighs. Leaving sticky wet marks between them.

‘What? You didn’t think I was joking, did’ja?’ Ronin’s eyes are twinkling with delight as he says it and your mouth runs dry. Oh shit. He wasn’t joking. ‘Now, watch me work!’ Ronin steps back from you slowly, making sure you’re not too loopy and dazed to stand on your own before prying the crowbar from your frozen fingers and dancing around you to line up another mug.

‘Step back baby. Don’t want to hit ya’. Least, not yet.’ You laugh at his teasing. For all Ronin’s threats of killing you, you know he’d miss you far too much. Or, miss the prospect of killing you after the rush fades. You think you’re okay with either. As long as it keeps you alive and in his arms.

‘What about my target practice?’ You say, Ronin looks down pointedly at your hands, they’re shaking. The blood that’s transferred from the crowbar is starting to dry and flake off around your fingers. You can’t help but feel a little… disappointed. You tuck them behind your back. Ronin is watching you silently. When you look up he flashes you a cheesy grin and waves his crowbar in a little circle like he’s saying ‘batter up!’ He’s already put all three remaining mugs in a little row on the edge of the counter.

You’re waiting for him to line up his shot when crack. Ronin’s arms shoot out and hit the first mug dead centre and you’re struck by what a vision your boyfriend is. Ceramic shattering to dust in front of him, the long line of his arms held out, wielding his crowbar with finesse and ease like it’s a part of him. An extension. Crack. The wild glee lighting up his face as he pulls his arms back and cackles, head tipping back with the laugh and then forwards again to face his target, the deadly serious look in his eyes as he locks in on the next mug, his hair falling in his eyes, tendrils sticky and wet looking with the drying blood. Crack. Your own bloody handprints littering his face and neck. He looks divine. Saint like. You would kill for him, you realise with a start. You will kill for him. Some day. Maybe soon.

‘’Nin…’ You say. Ronin looks over at you.

‘What is it, baby? Do you need me? Am I making you weak in the knees?’ Ronin reaches out and taps the end of his crowbar against the back of your knee lightly. You stumble slightly and his smile widens slowly. Like a predator circling his prey, Ronin stalks up close to you, breathes himself into your space, tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. ‘Gonna fall head over heels for me again?’ His grin is shit-eating. Your pussy clenches hotly in response.

‘’Nin, I need you.’ Your hands grasp at the front of his shirt, creasing it into tight little folds between your fingers. All the heat and want and desire from before flares back into life in the pit of your stomach.

‘Need me, need me. Bet’cha wanna please me. Ain’t that right, baby? Am I your God or am I your God?’

It should be embarrassing, how fast you drop to your knees. Nuzzle your face into his crotch where you know his cock is hiding. But you’re dizzy with want. Your whole cunt is throbbing so hard you wonder if you could come just like this, simply by getting your mouth on him. Ronin needs to take his pants off now. Before you gnaw through them. You lean down and bite his bare knee, exposed by the hole in his jeans. He jumps a little, steps back to pull his knee out of your reach and swats at your head. You grin and gnash your teeth at him mid air.

‘As sweet as that offer is, darlin’, I had somethin’ a little more… gruesome in mind.’ Ronin grins wickedly at you and offers you his hand. You let him pull you to your feet, twist you into a bruising kiss before he lets you go. You watch as Ronin walks over to the backpack, and pulls out the plastic bag the crowbar was wrapped in. There’s a pool of blood at the bottom of it. Ronin grins wickedly at you before motioning you over with a beckoning finger. ‘Kneel.’ He says and you do. Situate yourself at his feet and wait with bated breath to see what he does next.

You’re not expecting it when he takes the bag and tips the remaining blood inside onto the crowbar before picking it up. Your breath catches in your throat. You wonder if that’s how it looks when he's using it. Ronin smiles, pleased at the look on your face. ‘Y’see, I was wondering, just how badly do you want this, baby? How badly do you want me? How far are you willing to go?’

Ronin crouches in front of you, holding the crowbar out in front of him. He lines the end of it up with your head like he’s going to hit you, pulls it back a little and you tense. You don’t think he would, but with Ronin, you never truly know. ‘Nah.’ He chuckles, stands back up and taps the crowbar on one of your shoulders, then the other, then he ever so lightly bumps it against your forehead. ‘Here I knight thee, Pretty and Rotten and Mine, forevermore.’ Ronin swipes his thumb along the side of the crowbar, leans forwards and you feel him swipe a cross onto your forehead. ‘Forevermore and always, darlin’.’ Before he leans in and licks it off. Ronin crouches back down.

‘So, as I was saying, just how badly do you want this, baby? You want the devil so badly that you’d kiss his instrument of bloody delight?’ Ronin proffers it to you, palms up. He’s watching you with calculating eyes, like he’s seeing just how far he can push you before you break, but there’s also an intense joy in them, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. Ronin’s lips are pursed to the side, an eyebrow quirked in question.

You want to rub your pussy on his face, against his nose, his mouth, his tongue. Your hips rock down against nothing at the thought, a quick motion but you know Ronin catches it as his eyes dip down to look at your bare cunt, hidden out of sight by his oversized t-shirt and a smirk curls around the edges of his mouth.

Instead of responding to his question, you lean in and lick a slow stripe along the crowbar. The copper-y metallic taste of blood, a stranger’s blood, fills your mouth and your heartbeat thunders as you swallow. They’re dead now. Made into mince meat at your boyfriend's hands. You lean in and press a chaste kiss against the cold metal, and then against Ronin’s fingers curved over the bar.

‘Ha-ha! I didn’t think you’d actually do it!’ Ronin crows with laughter. ‘So what d’ya think, darlin’? How does death taste? Pretty fuckin’ great right?’

You’re honestly not sure, you could go without it, but it wasn’t terrible like you expected. You actually quite like the taste of metal, so you’ve always though the taste of blood is kind of nice, but if Ronin wants to know that he’s going to have to work for it. You lick your lips and screw your nose up in distaste.

‘Not for you, huh darlin’? Awh, poor baby. So naive, so deluded.You really think you can lie to the devil? …I’ll let it go, this time. I have something much worse in mind anyway. Put your legs apart for me, darlin’. That’s right, there we go. Now put your hands behind your back.’ You do as he says. Ronin reaches over and holds the edge of your shirt up to your face, ‘ say ‘ah~’, then he tucks it in your mouth so you’re bare from the chest down, exposed. You watch as his gaze trails up and down your naked form, you can’t keep your hips still, they twitch back and forth in time with the soft pulsing in your clit.

Ronin grins sharply, ‘Perfect.’ He says, then he takes the crowbar and holds it upside down, turns the sharp edge of it away from you and slots the curved part up against your cunt. You gasp around your shirt, and the look on Ronin’s face is heady. You knew he was getting off on this, but it’s different to see it. His eyes are half-lidded, gaze dark, mouth open in with a smirk, tongue peeking out as he watches the shock register on your face. You can’t believe he would do something so, so disrespectful. Something so fucking hot you can’t help but buck your hips against the crowbar, grinding your clit into the cold bite of the metal. It’s wet, and you know it's the blood mixing with the slick from your cunt.

Part of you feels sick. The other knows you’re going to cum harder than you ever have in your life to the thought of your boyfriend, Ronin, The Devilish Butcher, the Devil Himself, using this very crowbar to split some poor suckers ribcage open, to break their knees, to crack their skull. You whine and rock your hips back and forth against the crowbar, rut your clit against it desperately. Your whole pussy pulses red-hot, pleasure licking across it sending shudders through you while you get off on thinking about how dangerous Ronin is.

Ronin is watching you with an intense look on his face, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. Your head tips backwards in ecstasy and his hand comes round to support it, tilts it up so that he can see your face. ‘I want to see the look in your eyes when you come from this, darlin’.’ Oh fuck. You struggle to keep your eyes open as the pleasure twists itself into an electric whine, burning fire across your cunt and sending fricative little jolts through your legs and up your spine. You can feel the curved edge of the crowbar pressing up deliciously against your entrance and you whine, wishing the end of it wasn’t sharp so that Ronin could fuck you with it.

Your hips stutter down, drag your clit against the wet, bloody metal, feel yourself twitch and pulse with delight at how utterly grotesque the action feels. Ronin bites his lip and you think he sees it before you feel it and it vaguely occurs to you to be worried, before your climax washes over you in a thundering wave and you start to twitch. ‘Oh, fuck.’ Slips out your mouth before you can stop it, then devolves into a rasping, guttural moan. You feel a glittering, fuzzy numb feeling grasp the edge of your vision and your toes and shoulders as your hips rock, your clit tenses, then jolts and pulses with the rhythm of your release. You twitch your way through it until your vision dips into black around the edges, and dimly you recognise that you’re passing out just before you do.

When you come to, you’re laid panting in Ronin’s lap, one of his arms supporting your shoulders while the other brushes sweaty hair off your face. ‘Did ‘cha see the light, darlin’?’ Ronin’s smirk is cheeky, self satisfied, and you swat a limp hand at his face in mock outrage. You’re far too spent to actually consider making a real attempt at a comeback. Ronin crows, delighted at this, dodging your slow hand with ease before dipping his head down again to grin at you. ‘I take it that means you did. How were the pearly gates? Closed?’ For all his showboating he slows and kisses you softly, presses his forehead to yours and mutters, ‘Did God tell you you spent way too long dancing with the devil to be let in?’

‘Nooo.’ You grumble, slide your face away from the heavy weight of Ronin’s gaze, turn yourself sideways to hide your expression against Ronin’s stomach and wrap your arms around his middle, ‘He invited m’ in. Told him to fuck off and send me back to hell b’cause that’s where you are.’

There’s a beat of silence before Ronin laughs again, disbelieving and delighted. You feel it rumble in his chest before he pulls you up to sit in his lap properly. ‘Well aren’t you the sweetest?’ You can feel his grin as he presses his lips to your forehead. Your limbs are all loose and you feel euphoric. Giddy and content and happy to be in Ronin’s arms. He rocks you slightly and you laugh, head tipping back as Ronin kisses down your neck, scrapes his teeth against your throat. You shudder away from the stimulation and remember that while you may be satisfied, Ronin has been waiting patiently all this time and you want to make him feel as good as he made you.

‘Ronin.’

‘Mhm,’ you know he’s not really listening by the way he’s leaving little open mouthed kisses along your jaw.

‘Ronin.’

‘Yeah, baby?’ He breathes before pressing a sucking kiss at the skin just underneath your ear.

‘Ronin!’ You snap.

‘What?’ Ronin pulls back, hair dishevelled, mouth bitten red with confusion in his eyes.

You smile at him cheesily. ‘I want you to fuck me.’

Ronin groans, ‘Yeah, baby? Shall I go get the strap? You want The Butcher to fuck you? You want to get to know me, your god, biblically?’ He’s leaning down to kiss at your neck again when you stop him with a hand on his shoulder.

‘No, ‘Nin.’ You breath, ‘I want you to fuck me. I think I’m loose enough, and I think you’ve grown since we last tried.’

You can’t keep the grin off your face at how Ronin freezes, his pupils blown wide with lust. He wets his lips, ‘You want me to…?’

‘Yeah.’ You lean in and kiss him. Ronin doesn’t react for a second but then he’s pulling you against him, bruising, sliding his lips over yours and licking his way into your mouth like he wants to suck the air from your lungs. He pulls your legs over his own to sit between them. You feel his hips rock up under your own, the fabric of his trousers brushes over your wet cunt and you jerk away from the sensation, being too much too soon.

‘I wish I could fuck you like this.’ Ronin grumbles against your lips.

You pull back and murmur, ‘You can fuck me another way.’ Press your forehead against his own and watch his eyes slide shut in an uncharacteristic moment of weakness. Ronin breathes out heavily and nods.

‘Hey!’ You say, and shove him backwards while his eyes are still shut. They fly open in shock and you hold your breath, but then Ronin laughs, leans back on his elbows and appraises you with delight.

‘Little lamb’s got teeth. How cruel, baby. What’s next? You gonna cut out my heart too? Press my still beating atrium against that dirty little cunt of yours that likes blood so much?’

‘Not my fault you were looking all depressed about getting to fuck me.’ You crawl over and sit on his legs, reach for his fly, undo it, and start tugging down his trousers. You glance up at Ronin’s face, lean up and kiss the wary look off it. You’re not sure what it means and that worries you. Ronin is usually a really easy read, once you’ve gotten past all his sarcasm and teasing and esotericism (which is ironic considering his opinion on esotericism is ‘hard knock’). You lean over and kiss him again, a simple peck this time. ‘I really think we’ll get it this time; I’ve been on reddit.’ You say cheekily.

‘And what wisdom did the Glorious Platform of Reddit have to share?’ It’s dripping in sarcasm and you have to resist rolling your eyes.

‘Just some helpful hints, and a position we haven’t tried before.’ You start tugging his trousers down, ‘hips up, baby.’ Ronin’s hips rock up before he lifts them deliberately; he has always liked when you use his own pet names on him. You shuffle down trying to pull Ronin’s trousers the rest of the way off, they get caught around his knees.

‘You know it still might not work, right?’ Oh. So that’s how he’s feeling.

‘Yeah, I know. But we can still try; we got real close last time. Jesus, Ronin, how long are your legs?’ Ronin’s trousers turned inside out as you tugged them down, so you have to bundle them up to finally yank them off his feet.

‘Yeah and I was too small.’ He’s being petulant. Not even making his usual joke of, ‘no, just me,’ at your ‘Jesus’. Arms crossed, laying flopped back on the floor like he doesn’t care, what a big baby. You chuck Ronin’s bundled up trousers at him. They hit his face with a ‘flap!’ and he sits up, outraged.

‘Stop being a baby. That’s my job.’ You say. You lean up and put your hands on his thighs, rub them back and forth soothingly. ‘I thought you’d want this. That’s why I suggested it, but we don’t have to; we can do something different.’

Ronin smooths a hand over his face, ‘No, I want to. I really, really want to. I’m just worried it won’t work, and that I’ll end up feeling less than.’

‘You will never be less than to me. No matter what, Ronin. Okay?’

‘Damn, darlin’, didn’t know you liked me that much.’ He’s smiling cheekily, but you know it’s genuine in the way it plays around the edge of his mouth and crinkling his eyes as he looks up at you.

‘Yes you did, asshole.’

‘Yeah, I did.’

‘Now, you want me to suck your dick first or what?’

Ronin chokes on a laugh, ‘Forgot how much of a romantic you are there. You not gonna wine and dine me first, darlin’? Rile me up until I’m cryin’, beggin’ for it? Oh wait, that was you.’

‘Asshole. I’m asking if I can dine you right now.’

Ronin giggles. ‘Touche. But nah, you don’t need ta’.’ Ronin sits up on his elbows and shoves his boxers down over his hips aggressively. ‘I’ve been rock hard ever since you looked at my crowbar like it was something you wanted inside you, baby. Since you finally showed me some of your rot.’ He kicks his boxers off and they go flying but you don’t see where, you’re too busy focused on the wet mess of pubic hair sticking out from between your boyfriend’s legs.

Ronin parts his legs to let you see what’s between them, the rough black hair covering his public mound, the dark skin around the swollen red lips of his cunt, a thick sheen of slick leaking out from between them. His cock is sticking out from his folds, dark red and twitching against the chill of the open air. Fuck. He’s so hard.

Ronin sucks in a breath and slides a hand down his front, parts his fingers in a ‘v’ shape around the top of his cock and presses down to pull his foreskin back with a hiss. Your mouth waters and you can't resist. You lean down and spit on his cock, letting it run out of your mouth and down your tongue slowly while looking up at Ronin. Ronin moans, and his hips hump into the air towards the wet heat of your mouth, you watch the spit run down over the head of his cock and then down between his folds so you chase it with your tongue. Press between his folds and lick up under his cock and over the head of it. Ronin moans, his hand sliding down to cover the back of your head.

You seal your lips over his shaft with your tongue under it and push your head forwards, sucking gently. You can feel his cock pulse rhythmically against your tongue. You’re expecting him to push your head down but Ronin cards his hands through your hair and pulls you up. You look at him, mouth still hanging open, confused as he pants roughly, ‘You’re the one who said ya’ wanted me fuck ya’, darlin’.’

Oh shit. Yeah. You do. You nod rapidly, scramble to your feet and look at your boyfriend; he’s a vision on the floor; bloody hand prints on his neck, red hair disheveled, wet looking and pushed back, the light smattering of hair covering his thighs, his t-shirt rucked up around his stomach, his happy trail leading down to his hard cock sticking out proudly and his shiny wet cunt underneath it leaking between his legs. ‘You coming?’ You ask as you hold out a hand.

Ronin grabs it and hauls himself to his feet. He leans over and grabs the crowbar off the floor, then puts his arm over your shoulders and starts walking you to his bedroom, ‘that’s the plan, sweetheart.’ You snort out a laugh at his bad joke.

Ronin steers you into the room, drops the crowbar beside the bed, and just when you’re about to turn and kiss him, he drops his arm and shoves you, full bodied, onto the bed. You shriek in shock. You hear Ronin laughing uproariously behind you before you hear the fast padding of his feet as he launches himself towards you. ‘Wait, Ronin, no!’ You bring your arms up in defense but it's too late, and your boyfriend lands on you with a crushing blow. It doesn’t hurt anything other than your pride but you still don’t appreciate being sneak attacked and squished like this.

‘Get! Off! Me!’ You smack him (gently) over the shoulders and on his side and his butt and anywhere you can reach. ‘Awh, I thought you liked me.’ Ronin’s face pops into view, flushed with excitement at getting revenge for your earlier antics. He leans his head on his hands and puts on an exaggerated pout, ‘what? Don't ‘cha like me, darlin’?’

‘Not anymore I don’t.’ You say. You see Ronin’s eyes narrow in disbelief as a wicked smirk overtakes his features.

‘Is that so?’

‘Yep.’ You pop the ‘p’, turning your face away from him in protest.

Ronin starts laying wet kisses against your throat, talking in an over-exaggerated, fake, throaty moan, ‘So you don’t want me to try and bully my red-hot, throbbing, monster cock into your teeny tiny pussy?’ He’s clearly mocking you from his overzealous tone and you hate that it works. You’re mortified that he can fake arousal in such a kitsch and satirical way and it still makes you shiver and squirm to hear it. Ronin laughs against your throat. ‘Yeah, baby? You like that? Should I start using more cheesy porn lines during sex? Will that get you off?’

‘Shut up, Ronin. You know it’s you I like.’

Ronin noses under your jaw and whispers in your ear. ‘Fuck, really? Never noticed.’ He cackles it proudly against your cheek and presses a loud smooch against the side of your face. God fucking damn it. Always has to fucking win this man. Like it’s wired into his bone structure. ‘I knew it~.’

Ronin starts pressing wet, warm kisses under your ear again and you let out a satisfied sigh. You could stay here all day, you think, when Ronin shifts over you, lines your hips up with his, starts rutting forwards again and you feel his bare cock drag wet over your clit. The friction is a delicious bite of a sting against your spent clit, making your hips stutter away from and back into the movement. You can feel it when Ronin’s cock twitches hotly against your clit and the feeling makes you whine; you love rubbing your clit on his cock.

You rock your hips up to meet Ronin’s; his breath puffs against your temple in hot bursts and you can hear him moaning low in his throat on the downward drag of his hips. You don’t want to stop him but then you think of how ecstatic you would both feel if you could get him to actually fuck you; you don’t try this very often as it sets off his dysphoria if it doesn’t work but you know it’s one of Ronin’s biggest fantasies- to be able to fuck you himself.

‘Ronin. Ronin, come on. Fuck me.’

‘So impatient all the time.’ Ronin murmurs, nosing along the edge of your face before pulling back to look you in the eyes. He has the same dopey, lovesick look in his eyes that he did that day you met him in Purgatory- not that he’d ever admit that’s what it was. He thumbs over your lip before leaning in to kiss you again softly. ‘But when you ask so nicely how can I resist? …So, how do you want to do this?’ The words are whispered against your lips, ‘Since you’re the certified reddit expert ‘n’ all.’ Ronin snickers. You smack him (gently) round the side of his head for the cheek. Ronin smiles at you cheekily, kisses you again.

You get him to lift himself off you for a minute, his cock peels away wet and sticky from your cunt and you stifle a whine at the loss of burning hot heat, the feeling of him twitching against you as you move together. You hook a hand around your knee and pull one of your legs as far up and out as you can while keeping the other one laid out. You feel your cunt lips peel apart and allow the wet line from your clit to your entrance to kiss the open air. Ronin’s sat back, watching you open mouthed, hazy red high on his cheekbones, his eyes half lidded as he does.

‘’S that f’ me?’ He asks. You bite your lip and nod. You watch as Ronin exhales slowly, an attempt to keep control, but you don’t want him in control. You want him to take you; like he does when he’s out in Purgatory.

‘Ronin.’ You say. He barely tears his eyes away from your cunt to look at you for a second before he’s staring at it again, leaning towards it like he wants to put his mouth on it but that’s not what you’re doing right now. ‘Ronin.’ He doesn’t even flinch. He mumbles something about ‘such sweet rot’ and your clit twitches under his attention. ‘Butcher.’ You try. Ronin’s eyes snap up to meet yours. ‘Get- get on- straddle my leg, and-’

‘Wait.’ Ronin says, and you pause, letting go of your leg for a second as he leans over you. ‘I think we’re forgetting something.’ You’re confused as to what until Ronin reaches across and casually lifts the crowbar from beside the bed with one hand. You watch the muscles in his arm twist and flex as he handles it. ‘’M not exactly The Butcher without my handy-dandy little friend.’

‘Please never call your crowbar your ‘handy-dandy little friend’ again.’

‘What? You don’t like it?’

You cover your face. ‘No, I don’t like it, it's not sexy at all.’

‘Ah, I forgot. You’re a freak who gets off on the fact that their boyfriend is a murderer. A serial killer. The Butcher. You’re a dirty little pervert.’ Ronin’s holding the crowbar in one hand, tapping the end of it against the other, leaning over you, leering. He’s beautiful. You’re about to deny his claims when he says, ‘don’t lie. Not this time darlin’. I know you like it. It’s written all over your face. Can see it when I-’ The crowbar crashes into the pillow just above your head with a ‘thump!’ Ronin moves so fast you don’t see it coming. You gasp and flinch, but your hips kick up as you do, ‘-swing it around a bit.’ Ronin’s smirking at you, self-satisfied. ‘Told you~’ He says. He goes to pick up the crowbar but you stop him, grabbing his wrist.

‘Leave it there.’ You say. The heavy pressure above your head is a dizzy-making reminder of just how dangerous Ronin is; a heavy reminder of how he didn’t even pause before swinging at you. How strong Ronin has to be, how sure of himself he is to have done that and known he wouldn’t hurt you, or, how reckless he is knowing he could have and doing it anyway. You don’t know which idea turns you on more. You squirm in place, waiting for Ronin to answer you.

‘Sure.’ Ronin says, before he leans down and kisses you gently, ‘Whatever gets you off, you pervert.’ You snort out a laugh. Ronin levels you with a burning stare, eyes dark with want. You feel the hair on the back of your neck raise underneath it and your skin pricks. You wonder if this is how his victims feel when they realise he’s going to kill them. You can’t stop the shudder that rolls through you at the thought.

‘Leg up, baby.’ Ronin helps you pull your thigh back into your own grip, and then straddles himself across your other leg at an angle, ‘So then I just put it in?’ He sounds a little breathless at just the thought.

‘Uh-huh,’ you’re a bit breathless yourself, trying to keep your hips from twitching up towards the heat of his. Ronin leans over you, wraps your raised leg high on his waist so you can let go of it, braces his hands by your shoulders and slowly lowers his cunt over yours; you feel his cock brush against the swollen lips of your cunt. You whine as you hear him inhale sharply, before his cock slides firmly over your clit, slips down between your lips with a stroke of fire and bumps against the wet suckling grasp of your entrance. You clench against the intrusion and feel Ronin exhale heavily against your face. He grinds his cock down against you and you moan in the back of your throat, hips rocking back and forth into the movement.

‘C’mon, darlin’, baby,’ Ronin breathes against your temple, ‘You gotta relax, gotta be nice and open f’me f’r this to work.’ He pushes his cock against you harder, it slides wetly over your entrance and down towards your buttcrack. ‘Shit.’ Ronin mutters, looking down. You catch his face with your hand, tangle it in the hair behind his ear and pull him into a bruising kiss.

‘C’mon, butcher. Try again, need it in me, need you in me.’ You murmur against his mouth, let go of his face and grab one of his hands, slide it up behind your head and wrap it around his crowbar, then you wrap your hand over his. Ronin drops his other arm onto the elbow and full body shudders against you. You feel his hips rut against your ass once, twice before he manages to pull them up and slot his cock against your cunt again.

You can feel his shaft pressed up the length of you, putting pressure against your clit, as the head of his cock brushes your entrance. You breathe out, ‘Wait- wait a sec, can you- what if- pull your foreskin back, baby.’ Ronin nods, lets go of the crowbar to reach down and adjust himself, before putting his hand back on the crowbar. You then reach in between you both and pull the lips of your cunt to the side, out of his way. It works, Ronin’s cock slides down slightly, the head presses against your entrance firmly and you press your hips up into the pressure, breathe in deep and try to relax.

His cock is pressed fully up against you. You hear Ronin moan and grind his hips against you and your entrance flutters. You want him inside and your body agrees. You can feel your cunt pulse against him and you know Ronin feels it too the way he chokes on a moan and his hips stutter before they come to an abrupt halt. He lets out a choked gasp where his head is tucked against your neck. You’re about to ask what’s wrong, Ronin’s whole body is a tense line above you but then you feel it; the head of his cock sliding slowly in under the pressure of your suckling cunt, rubbing just about an inch inside of you.

The feeling is erotic. It relights the fire in your belly, the slow burning aching pleasure of pleasing Ronin; having him fit inside you, knowing how much your boyfriend has wanted this. Ronin’s hips start moving back and forth slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid this won’t last or he’ll slip out. You hear him whine, mutter, ‘oh fuck,’ choke out, ‘baby. Darlin’. You feel divine.’ against your neck. You laugh, breathless, feel your cunt pulse around him in agreement and he groans against your neck, slides his head up and kisses wetly against your jaw. ‘Fuckin’ killing me darlin’. That’s my job.’ His voice is laced with venom. Ronin dips his head down to nip at your neck. You yelp, jump slightly at the sharp sting and Ronin groans.

His cock dislodges with a wet ‘pop’, but Ronin just laughs against your neck, giddy off the high of getting to fuck you himself; safe in the knowledge that he’s managed to do it once so he can do it again. He starts sucking a new bruise on your neck as presses his cock up against your entrance again. ‘You gonna put me out of a job, darlin’? Replace The Butcher with your perfect fuckin’ pussy ‘n’ you’ll kill about the same amount.’

You can’t even laugh at his stupid joke, too focused on the hot, heavy pressure of him against your entrance. His cock slides into place easily now that he knows the angle. You moan as you feel him press into you, a burning hot pressure and you can feel every twitch and pulse of his cock as he does.

Ronin’s head dips forwards, his forehead bumps your own and he grits out, ‘Not- not gonna last, baby.’ You can feel his arms shaking beside your head, his hips pulsing forwards in heavy, slow grinds, pumping his cock into you in a hard rhythm.

You pant out, ‘wait, hold on jus’ a sec-second, I think I can-’ you slide your hand between you both, down to where Ronin’s pelvis has been brushing over your clit, spiking electric little shocks up your spine.

Your entire cunt feels molten, the heat of his cock inside you, the pressure of his shaft against you all the way up to your clit. You press your fingers down over the little nub and start rubbing in little circles. You can feel your clit bumping little kisses against Ronin’s shaft on the down stroke. Ronin shudders as he realises what you’re trying to do, presses his lips against your temple and leaves panting little kisses there until his voice is overtaken by guttural, stuttering moans. You tighten your grip on the crowbar above you, think of Ronin swinging it at your head earlier, picture him doing it to someone else, picture him killing them.

Your clit twitches hotly against Ronin’s cock, you rock your hips into the heavy motion of his rutting and feel the head of his cock rubbing firmly inside you; your hips and thighs start to shake as you come with a low moan. Ronin chokes against your temple; he’s still in you and you know he can feel every wet, slick pulse of your cunt around him. His hips freeze up before hitching harder against your cunt and you feel his cock contract as he starts to come in you. You whine and press your hips up into the feeling, your orgasm spasms into over-sensitivity with a series of heavy clenches but you wouldn’t cut this short for Ronin under threat of death. You’re not pulling back until he does.

Ronin presses his forehead to yours. You hear him gasp wetly, feel something drip onto your face, feel his breath spilling in and out rapidly against your cheek as his hips hump against yours in several long presses until he shudders and slumps over you. Ronin lands on you, chest to chest, panting hard. His cock pops out your cunt with a slick, wet noise and you can feel him twitching slightly against your thigh with aftershocks.

Your hand is numb when you peel your sticky fingers off of Ronin’s and the crowbar. You take care to peel back his fingers too, giving Ronin’s arm back to him and interlacing your finger’s with his against your shoulder. You use your other hand to pet gently at the sweaty hair on the nape of his neck as you both catch your breath.

Ronin’s the first to break the silence, his voice is a little slurred and entirely giddy as he mumbles, ‘told you I could do it, darlin’.’

There’s a heavy beat of silence before you try smack him (gently) on the shoulder, laughing- but you are limp from your second orgasm in the space of thirty minutes and your hand just sort of glides across his sweaty back of his t-shirt and skids onto the bed with a bump. ‘Told me, told me? Who was it that suggested this in the first place? That’s right, me. You shithead.’ You try to fake outrage but you’re giggly and out of breath.

Ronin snorts out a laugh and props his wobbly self up on one elbow to look you in the face, ‘Who taught you to be so proud little lamb? Next you’re gonna start blaspheming and fantasising about serial killers, and we can’t have that can we?’ He’s smiling that dopey lovesick grin, and you know he’s teasing you but all you can see are the little shiny wet lines streaking down from the corner of his eyes and you think ‘holy shit, I made him come so hard he cried’.

You rub a thumb over the corner of his eye gently and Ronin turns his head into the motion before biting at your thumb. He’s like a big cat really. Rubbing himself all over you and biting you for affection. The thought makes you snort a laugh and you say, ‘did you see the light then, darlin’? Who’s cryin’ for it now?’

It’s Ronin’s turn to laugh at this and he says, ‘yeah. And I told God all about what a dirty little sinner I’ve been making you into,’ he presses his head into your hand and his eyes are bright as he looks at you and says, ‘so I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.’ Ronin bites his lip, leans in and kisses you gently. He then ruins the moment by looking pointedly at the crowbar and then saying, ‘hope you like hell, darlin’, cause heaven isn’t open to you now.’

His voice is dark and heavy when he says it, but even if you believed in hell you know for a fact you ‘wouldn’t be found anywhere else, Ronin, because this is where you are.’

‘You’re so sickly sweet. My little saint.’ Ronin’s voice is mocking when he says it, but he kisses your forehead anyway. He’s still wearing that lovesick look when he pulls back and you know that just as you would brave hell for him that he’d brave heaven for you- not that you’ll ever ask him to. You like hell far too much to ever leave, and if the devil just so happens to keep fucking your brains out with the help of his crowbar you don’t think you’ll ever go back.

…

‘Hey, Ronin...’

‘Yeah, baby?’

‘D’you think you could take the sharp end off your crowbar in the shop?’

‘Why would I want to-’ Ronin cuts himself off with a startled laugh as he figures out what you’re getting at. ‘I’ll see what I can do baby. You fucking pervert.’

#mywriting #cupidwrites #dead dove do not eat #ronin beaufort x reader #ronin beaufort smut #killer chat ronin #killer chat fanfiction #killer chat smut #they/them reader

47 notes · View notes

lyv-writes · 1 year ago

Text

quick to break: frank castle x reader

words: 5,596

warnings: explicit smut, afab!reader, blowjobs, face-fucking, consensual vaginal sex, mild cock worship, manhandling, spanking, praise kink, strength kink, mating press, choking kink, use of the term “little girl” but not in a ddlg way, more in a patronizing way??? and only like 3 times, honestly pureee filth. i came back with a vengeance, aftercare, cuddling after sex (truly the biggest warning)

notes: had to come back with a bang…literally. horrible pun, i know. please enjoy and feel free drop an ask in my inbox! :D this was also cross-posted on ao3 <3

･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

Frank Castle.

Even the name was daunting, looming over you like a castle at the top of a hill. Walls impenetrable; no one got in that wasn’t wanted. He oozed control, of which Frank had a lot of.

Control over the scumbags of Hell’s Kitchen, causing even the most dangerous of men to move underneath his radar for fear of him catching wind of them. The images of the bodies he left scattered in his wake more than likely the first thing they think about when they wake up, and the last they think about when they lay their head on their pillow.

Control over himself, the patience on the vigilante running far deeper than anyone would expect with his gruff personality. It comes with the territory, spending hours staking out buildings, days following criminals, months jumping from goon to goon, working his way up to the big bosses. That was no easy task, oftentimes returning to his loft seething, having to remind himself that running in half-cocked would only get him killed before he accomplished his goals, before he fulfilled his purpose.

His favorite place to exert his control, however, was you. As of late, he finds his veins thrumming with a different kind of adrenaline—one that he can only find in taking you apart piece-by-piece, and putting you back together, not a thought in your head other than being good for him. He craves that control, in a way he only previously associated with the feeling of pulling the trigger of his gun with the barrel pressed against the head of some killer/smuggler/trafficker/piece of shit.

What made it so sweet was how willingly you gave it to him. He didn’t have to chase you down, didn’t have to break you to get you to bend for him.

He simply asked. Sometimes, demanded, if the mood called for it.

Even if he didn’t do either, you could tell what he needed with a look, and you were more than happy to help take some of that weight off of his shoulders.

It didn’t take much for you to realize Frank was holding back the first couple times you two slept together. The first time, you thought nothing of it, the moment being full of love, passion, truly an act of devotion between the two of you. It was sweet, it was perfect, it made you wish that your first time had been like that, with him. You finished together, kissing each other through it with wandering hands. Falling asleep in his arms that night, felt like a missing piece falling into place.

After a while of being together, and more than a few nights spent tangled with each other under sheets, it was a rare night where you and Frank could lose yourselves in each other's company, that you had ventured into new territory.

Driven by a night full of fleeting touches, ignoring the outside world for just a moment, the two of you stumbled into your apartment, lips reluctantly leaving each other only to shed your coats. You followed it up with your dress, and Frank impatiently unbuttoned his black dress shirt as you were already dropping to your knees, hands fumbling with his belt and unfastening his pants before he had even shed his shirt. You traced your lips over his clothed erection, nuzzling against his bulge before fixing your lips over his tip, lapping at him through his boxers.

His cock twitched at the feeling of your warm breath caressing him through the cloth and before he could say a word you had hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down to meet his pants in a heap around his ankles, his cock springing free from its confines. You looked up to see him looming over you, hard cock hovering over your face as he pulled up the white tank top he wore underneath his button-up, revealing his stomach, solid, yet soft enough to melt under the press of your finger. He stepped out of his bottoms and kicked them to the side, and stepped towards you again, pressing the underside of his cock against your tongue.

“Please, Frankie, fuck my throat,” You whimpered, hands resting on his thighs, still pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses on the head of his cock and down his shaft. The only thing that had been on your mind all throughout dinner was treating Frank the way he deserved.

He did so much for you, for the city, you wanted him to be selfish for once, to take what he needed from you. You began stroking his length slowly, looking up at him through your lashes as you lapped at his slit, a groan coming from deep in his chest at your words coupled with your filthy actions. Your words came out slurred, lips still pressed to his cock and eyes glassy. “Wan’ you to, really, really do.”

Frank swallowed hard, gathering your hair together in a ponytail in his fist, his other hand coming down to caress your cheek softly. “You sure, baby?” He asked, voice tight with restraint. You had no idea how badly those words made him want to see you gag on his cock as he sinks into your throat, but you were so sweet, so soft.

The two of you hadn’t discussed making things a little more intense in the bedroom, too satisfied with being joined together so intimately. Frank knew that he could get a little lost in it sometimes, forgetting his own strength when wrapped up in the moment, but he made sure to take care with you.

Frank was all too happy to take things at your pace, just having you to himself being enough for him. “Wouldn’t wanna hurt that pretty throat a’yours.”

You shook your head, a dreamy smile on your face as you picked up the pace of your strokes. “You won’t hurt me, Frank. I trust you.”

He took a deep breath, feeling a bit selfish at giving into your request so easily, but he couldn’t deny that he desperately wanted to see if your throat could take his cock as good as your cunt did. And who was he to tell you no when you asked for it so sweetly. “Just tap my thigh if you need me ‘ta stop, okay?”

“Okay, Frankie,” you breathed, rubbing your thighs together in anticipation of feeling Frank use some of that strength you knew was hiding under his soft flesh against you.

Frank’s nighttime activities have never bothered you, in fact, quite the opposite. You found his sense of justice, the drive to do what needs to be done, admirable, irresistible. You couldn’t help but adore him—feel safe with him. You knew that if your friends and family knew who Frank really was, they would question your sanity. How in the world could you feel safe with someone who could be so violent, so bloodthirsty?

But you knew he would never hurt you.

You found comfort in how capable he was at keeping you safe. Knowing he would do anything to protect his own—you were convinced that if the world went to complete shit you would remain unaffected in Frank’s loft, shielded in your very own fortress, just the two of you.

The way you felt safe, cared for as his body hovered over yours on your bed, was something like you had never felt before. You knew you could only ever feel this safe with Frank.

Seeing the look of unadulterated adoration on your face, the way you so eagerly lapped at his cock as you waited for him to finally sink into your awaiting mouth, had him groaning, his cock twitching against your tongue at the sight. After a steadying breath, his grip tightened in your hair and he slowly entered your mouth, feeding you his dick until his tip was hitting the back of your throat with a moan at the sound of you gagging around his length.

“Relax, baby, lemme in,” he grunts, his face pinched in concentration as he focuses on not hurting you, no matter how badly he wants to shove you down on his cock. With short, steady thrusts he works open your throat, pulling back out till the tip was resting on your tongue before plunging back in just a little bit further. “That’s it, baby— shit.”

His sounds have you moaning lightly around his length, eyes glazed over and looking up at him as he takes such care in making sure you can take him without harm. You relax as much as you can for him, taking deep breaths through your nose as he sinks further into your throat. The taste of him is heady, causing arousal to coat your slit as you work your tongue against the underside of his cock.

“Atta girl,” he purrs, the last inch of his cock sliding down your throat. He groaned, pumping his hips shallowly as he tipped his head back and you whined at the sight of him, shirt pulled up to his chest, a sheen of sweat covering his chest and shoulders.

The light from the ceiling haloed around him, an angelic image towering above you. You could worship him forever, you realized, as you felt his thrusts pick up speed, pulling out from your throat and plunging back in. With that thought, the last of the tension that was strung tight in your body dissipated and you knew Frank could feel the difference with the moan that slipped from his throat.

He was seated to the hilt, your nose pressed tightly to the trimmed patch of hair at the base of his cock. You struggled to get a breath in through your nose as he relished in the way your throat fluttered around his cock. With your eyes rolling back slightly, the lack of oxygen had your head swimming, your heartbeat thumping in your clit at the feeling.

Frank opened his eyes, dropping his gaze to where you were kneeled before him, eyes rolled back at the feeling of him filling your throat and he picked up his speed again with a loud moan. His balls slapped against your chin as he used your throat like it was a fleshlight, and you snaked your hand down to the apex of your thighs, sliding past your panties to your soaked core.

The feeling of your fingers against your clit had you moaning loudly around his cock, the vibrations from your throat dislodging a loud moan from his throat. “Such a good fuckin’ slut f’me, gettin’ off from havin’ my cock in your throat.”

His words had you whining, not expecting the filth that dripped from his tongue. Frank was very vocal in bed—telling you how good you feel, moaning into your ear as he sinks into you. But he was so vulgar, it had you rutting against your fingers at the same pace he fucked into your throat.

No matter how badly you wanted to get him off with just your mouth, to feel him cum down your throat, you needed him inside you so desperately. Finally giving in, the war in your mind ceased as you tapped lightly on his thigh, signaling for him to stop.

“Fuck, baby, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Frank asked quickly, worry lacing his words as he gently pulled out of your throat. His eyes met yours and widened slightly in awe at you, seeing the dopey smile on your face and the way you nosed at the flesh of his tummy.

“Not at all, Frankie,” you assured, your voice a little raspy before pressing a kiss to the skin above his belly button. You continued to litter kisses all over the skin you could reach, pulling a soft chuckle from Frank as he carded his fingers through your hair softly. “S’good, so good, jus’ need you real bad.”

“Yeah, baby?” He asks, a teasing grin on his face. “Need my cock in that cute little cunt’a yours? Bet that’s why you were humpin’ your hand while suckin’ me off.”

Nodding quickly, you stand on wobbly legs. Frank steadied you as you swayed towards him with a giggle before you shimmied out of your panties, grinning up at him cheekily. Linking his fingers with yours, you drag him down the hall into your bedroom, yelping at the smack he lands on your ass as you're crawling onto the bed.

Situating yourself on your hands and knees, you wiggle your ass at Frank teasingly, shooting him a coy smile over your shoulder. “Please, Frankie…need’ta feel your big dick stretching out my pussy.”

With a wolfish grin, he pulls his tank top over his head, grin turning into a smirk at the way your eyes rake over his body, admiring his strong torso before your eyes settle on his cock. It stood proud, mushroom tip flushed a deep red, pre-cum beading at the tip.

Mounting the bed behind you, he presses a palm between your shoulders until your chest is flush with the bed, presenting your slick cunt for his eyes. His rough hands knead the plush flesh of your ass, groaning at how wet your tight hole is for him. You feel his hand leave you and then come back down, landing a hard smack! to your ass, forcing a moan from your throat.

Frank watches the way your ass jiggles with hungry eyes, chuckling lowly at the loud moan you released. “Does my girl like it when I slap her pretty ass, hm?”

His hand comes down again on your other cheek, the stinging pain morphing into pleasure that pooled in your core. You felt slick leak from your core, face flushing knowing that Frank has the perfect view of your sodden cunt. That thought is confirmed when his thumb drags from your entrance to your clit, rubbing your slick around the tender bud slowly. “You really like that, don’t’cha, angel?”

His thumb added more pressure to your clit, circling it faster before slowing down again. He sped up again, feeling the way you inched closer and closer to your climax before slowing down again.

“Never would’a thought my sweet girl liked bein’ roughed up so much,” he mused, his grin clear in his voice. His thumb was replaced with two fingers, circling your clit a couple more times before dipping down to your entrance, prodding against the tight hole. You clench around nothing at the feeling of Frank’s fingers ghosting against your entrance, drawing another breath of a laugh from him.

“That why you wanted me to fuck your pretty little throat?” Frank asked, burying two of his fingers inside you the knuckle, the feeling of your walls stretching around them making you whine. “My little girl like it when I push her around a bit? When I use her like the little toy she is?”

A moan left your lips as Frank crooks his fingers, searching for that soft spot inside you, and it sends you reeling when he finds it. It feels like the air has been punched from your lungs at the way he bullies the spot, fucking you open on his fingers with fervor. Frank’s fingers were twice the size of yours, and long enough to reach the most delicious spots inside you.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, the force of his fingers forcing moans and incoherent mumbles from your lips. A cry tore from your lips as his hand struck your ass again, immediately repeating the action on the other cheek.

The pain mixed with pleasure had you gushing around his fingers, the sound of them fucking into you, lewd and wet, had your ears turning red. Without warning, your climax swept you under, your body tensing and trembling as white spots clouded your vision. Frank fucked you through your high with his fingers, slowing down until he was still, buried to the knuckle as your cunt fluttered around him.

As your orgasm subsided, you felt yourself relax, slumping further against the bed as Frank gently pulled his fingers from your twitching hole.

“Did so fuckin’ good f’me, baby,” Frank praises, draping his body over yours to press kisses across your back and shoulders. His hands trail from your hips, up your sides and squeeze at the plush flesh of your waist before dragging them back down to your hips and repeating the process.

His cock is hot against your lower back, hard length rutting slowly against your ass as he continues to ghost kisses across your skin. “Such a good fuckin’ girl—my good fuckin’ girl.”

A content hum builds in the back of your throat and you roll over on your side just enough to look back at Frank, your chest tightening at the grin stretched across his face. Frank’s smile always had your heart screeching to a halt in your chest, and you were sure your eyes turned to hearts at the sight.

“‘M all yours, Frankie,” you say with a sigh, pursing your lips at him to ask for a kiss.

He wastes no time in fulfilling your request, pressing his lips to yours in a deep kiss. You can feel his love pouring into you through the kiss, as if your souls were connected where your lips met. The kiss was broken all too soon by the smile that stretched across your lips. His smile soon mirrored yours until you were smiling fondly at each other, foreheads pressed together and breaths mingling in the close space.

“Are you okay to continue?” Frank asks, tone soft as he bumps his nose gently against yours. “We can stop here, baby. You’ve been so perfect.”

The tiredness that you feel is still tinged with an undercurrent of need, still craving to be so intimately connected with Frank. The feeling of his cock, hard and warm against your skin only solidified your thoughts. Pressing another soft kiss to his lips, you pull away just far enough to murmur, “Fuck me, Frankie.”

With a groan and a satisfied grin, Frank’s hand snaked down between the two of you, guiding his cock to glide along your slick folds. Your mingling breaths soon became shared moans as he pressed his dick flat against your cunt, lubing up his cock with your wetness. A whine hitched in your throat as his head nudged at your entrance until it gave way, allowing him to work his thick cock inside your tight hole.

Despite him getting you ready with his fingers, the feeling of him stretching you out in his cock had heat engulfing your body, your mouth opening in a silent moan at the never-ending feeling of him filling you. He finally met the end of you, pressing himself further just for good measure before pulling back till just the tip was seated in your cunt.

He leisurely plunged his cock back into you, allowing you to feel the way his dick carved a path inside you. You loved the way Frank always looked out for you, always put your needs before his own when it came to acts of intimacy. But right now you wanted—no, you needed him to take what he wanted.

“Frankie,” you whined, arching your back to press your ass against his hips, taking his cock completely. “Please, fuck me, Frank. Don’t hold back.”

A rough groan passes his lips, his hips pressing further against yours at your words. “Fuck, babydoll, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t, Frankie,” you urge, looking at him with your face pressed against the mattress. “I’m not quick to break—promise. Please, Frankie, fuck me hard.”

He could hear the desperation in your voice, the way your lip trembled and brows pinched together as you looked up at him. Surging down to grab your jaw with his hand, he held your face still to press his lips urgently to yours, tongue demanding entrance before he pulled away, string of spit connecting your tongues.

Frank pulled away enough to look you in your eyes, making sure there wasn’t a trace of hesitation. Instead he found lust, hunger, love, as you smiled up at him once more. His voice was firm, more firm than you had ever really heard him be with you. “You tell me to stop, I stop immediately, do you understand, babydoll?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded immediately, the honorific just sounding right in the context. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.”

His gaze darkened at the sound of the title you used for him and he nodded at your agreement, dropping a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Good girl.”

His words washed over you like a warm breeze, sinking you further into the fuzzy headspace that you always felt bleeding at the edges of your vision when it came to being intimate with Frank.

You felt Frank straighten back up, his hands trailing your shoulders, softly down your sides to settle at your hips. Slowly, so slow it was agonizing, he pulled his cock from your wet channel, just the tip nestled into your heat. Despite the instinct to brace for the impact of his hips on yours, you forced yourself to relax, further melting into the mattress to show Frank just how much you wanted everything he had to give.

Frank stayed still, enjoying the visage of you so submissive for him. Presenting your sweet cunt so eagerly for him, like a bitch in heat begging to be bred. His cock pulsed where it sat snug in your entrance at the thought.

You started to get antsy, wanting to look over your shoulder to see what Frank was thinking, but wanting to stay still and be good for him. Just when you considered wiggling your hips, hoping to spur him on, he filled your weeping cunt in one fell stroke.

A cry was wrenched from your throat at the feeling of him filling you so completely, not sparing a second before he was pistoning his hips against yours. With your eyes rolling back in your head at the feeling of his tip bullying your cervix, you felt the curve of his dick brushing against that spongy spot inside you.

The pleasure was almost too much, your fingers tightening in their grip on the sheets and trying to drag yourself away from the feeling. With a grunt, Frank wrenched your hand out of the sheets, hand circling tightly around the bend of your elbow as he pulled you back towards him. His hips picked back up their rhythm, hand landing a thundering smack on your ass cheek as he fucked into you.

“Don’t try runnin’ now, little girl,” Frank grunted, landing another harsh smack against the raw flesh of your ass. “You asked for this.”

He was being borderline mean, his tone cold and detached as he used your body to chase his release, and his words had a loud moan breaking free from your throat. It only had you growing wetter, the squelching sounds of him railing your cunt increasing in volume, along with your moans.

You knew that if you wanted it to stop, you could say so, and you trusted Frank to keep his word. But it was so perfect, the pain burning in such a euphoric way, it was too much and not enough all at once.

“F-fuck, sir— unh! ” Words fell from your lips, incoherent babbles of his name mixing with your moans creating the most beautiful symphony in the silence of the room. “So good—so full, fuck.”

His hips came to a stop, pulling out so quickly you didn’t even realize until he was manhandling you onto your back. His eyes took you in from your face to the wet heat at the apex of your thighs, unconsciously licking his lips at the sight of you clenching around nothing.

“Kiss me, Frankie, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist and dragging your wet core against his cock.

He’s never been able to deny you anything, even now, his hard exterior dropping to press a languid kiss to your lips. You gasp against his mouth, his tongue taking advantage of the noise to slip in alongside yours. He pulls back just enough to murmur, “Bein’ such a good little toy for me, baby.”

His hips rut against you, grinding perfectly against your clit. His words send your mind floating off into the clouds, happy, sated knowing that you’re being good for him, that you’re taking all that he gives just how he wants you to.

You’re so lost in the kiss, the feeling of his chapped lips against yours, the warm weight of his hand caressing the side of your cheek, you don’t even notice him drag his cock down to your entrance. With a sharp thrust, he bottoms out once more, relishing in the way your eyes widen at the unexpected stretch, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

Frank licks into your mouth one final time before pulling away, planting one hand on your hip and the other around your neck. He gives your neck a gentle squeeze, your eyes focusing on him and seeing the silent question in his eyes. You nod quickly, failing to form the words of encouragement he needed, but whatever he saw on your face was confirmation enough.

His grip on your throat tightened, blood rushing in your ears at the light feeling in your head. Frank cursed, hips stuttering against yours at the way you clenched around his cock, almost making it hard for him to pull out and press back in smoothly.

Frank can feel your walls fluttering around him, the signs of your climax approaching has him doubling his efforts. The hand that was on your hip leaves a trail of fire as he moves it to your mound, thumb ghosting over your clit and making your hips buck against his thumb at the feeling.

The sweet abyss of release was so close you could taste it, sweet on your tongue. You were desperate for it. Your hands clutched his shoulders, nails digging into the skin hard, dragging down in your pleasure fueled daze, leaving stinging, red marks in your wake.

“Please, please, please,” you mumbled, your brain melting underneath Frank’s weight as you felt his hands grab at your thighs, pressing your knees to your chest as he settled his weight over you. His cock pressed deeper into your core, the deepest anyone had ever been. “O-oh, God, Frankie—can feel you in my tummy, baby— ah! ”

Your voice was nothing more than a shrill whine, all the air punched out of your lungs at the change in position. His weight was comforting around you as he molded your cunt around his cock. You were sure you would never be the same after this, he had broken you down and rebuilt you in the same breath.

His fingers worked quick circles around your clit as he huffed, his pace slowing slightly, allowing him to hit deeper, harder. His hand is still loosely circling your throat, no longer squeezing but acting as something to ground you. Despite your previous orgasms, you know this will be intense. You can feel it building, but it feels slightly different, the pressure building more than usual.

“C’mon, little girl, you’re gonna give it t’me,” Frank grunts, angling his hips for that little spot that makes you feel like you could float away from your body. His hand tightens around your neck, your moan cut off into a ragged breath. “Cum around my dick so I can breed this tight little cunt, y’want that don’t you?”

“God, yes!”

In a flash, flames envelop your body, toes curling as your vision goes spotty at the force of your orgasm, leaving you cumming with a cry. Frank’s hand releases your throat, the oxygen rushing back through your veins making the sensations more intense. You’re so fucked out, you didn’t notice the way you soaked the lower half of Frank’s body, your arousal dripping down his hips and drenching the sheets.

Frank’s hips collide with yours, once, twice, before stilling, painting your sensitive walls with his thick spend. The feeling of him filling you with his seed, grinding his hips against yours and stimulating your tender bud, has you moaning softly as an aftershock rolls through you.

The air around you is still, thick with the scent of sweat and sex. Frank gently lowers your legs, pressing featherlight kisses to your face at the sight of you wincing in discomfort. Tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, you drag his mouth over yours, pressing a deep, unhurried kiss to your lover’s lips.

Frank’s softened cock is still wrapped in your velvet heat, both of you enjoying the feeling of being so close, feeling like you are one entity instead of two individuals. You had never understood the appeal of cockwarming until now, pressed to the bed with the weight of Frank’s body laid atop yours, joined in the most intimate way.

Finally parting for breath, Frank presses his forehead against yours, eyes closed as he melts under your nails scratching lightly at his scalp. His words are slurred in contentment. “Wasn’t too rough, was I?”

Shaking your head softly against his, you smile softly at his serene face. You only ever see Frank this at ease when he’s asleep, the only time the man indulged in being vulnerable. “Not at all, Frank.”

Pulling back far enough to meet his gaze, your hand falls to cup his cheeks. “It was perfect. You’re perfect, Frankie.”

It never fails to amaze him how you’re able to quiet the voices in his head, the ones that nag at him, nasty, cruel voices that spit venomous words. His whole being is still. Right now, intertwined with you in the closest way possible, he’s never been happier.

His lips pull into a sheepish grin, shaking his head at you. “That’s all you, angel. My good little girl.”

His praise makes your face flush, despite all you had just done, all he had just done to you, he still managed to fluster you. He presses a kiss to your pouting lips, chuckling into the kiss as you try to resist before melting against him.

Nuzzling your nose with his, he softly pulls out from your sensitive core, pressing a kiss to your nose as you wrinkled it at the sensation of his release dripping out of you. “C’mon, sweet girl. Let’s get you to the bathroom while I change the sheets.”

Standing up before you, Frank scoops you up in his arms, smirking at the tiny yelp you let out at the unexpected action. You smack his chest with a giggle before burying your face in his neck. Frank always looked at you a little weird when you sniffed at him like this, but you just couldn’t help it—he always smelt so good. If his natural scent was some top-shelf designer cologne, you would spend hundreds on it.

After placing you on the toilet, he grabs a washcloth, wetting it under warm water before kneeling in front of you and wiping down your sensitive areas with a gentle hand. Once he was done with that, he deposited the cloth in the hamper, before returning to the bathroom.

“I’m going to change the sheets and get you some water,” Frank says, pressing a lasting kiss on the top of your head. “You finish up in here, I’ll be done by the time you are.”

With a final smile, Frank leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You quickly use the restroom before wiping off the rest of your ruined makeup with a makeup remover wipe. By the time you’ve finished brushing your teeth and exited the bathroom, Frank is setting the glass of water on your side of the bed.

He smiles softly when he sees you exit the bathroom, his eyes taking in your bare figure with a look that wasn’t of hunger, or lust, but adoration, reverence. You had never felt so beautiful with just one look before you met Frank—he was unlike anyone you’d ever known.

He pulls back the duvet, sliding in against the fresh sheets and patting the spot next to him for you to join him. With a bright smile, you cross the room in a flash, burying yourself into his side as he tucks the comforter in around the two of you so none of the cold air could get into your little cocoon

You pressed your cold toes to Frank’s warm legs, giggling at the hiss he let out at the feeling. He glared playfully at you, kicking around at the blankets until he had wrapped them around your feet. Tucking his arm under your head, he draped his other arm over your waist and pulled you closer to him, your chilled nose brushing against the warm skin of his neck.

With a sigh you wrap your arm around Frank’s torso, hand splayed out on the muscles of his back and ribs. “Y’so warm, Frankie,” you mumble, the sound muffled from your place in his neck.

He laughs softly, his fingers drawing delicate shapes on the soft skin of your back. “You’re just cold, baby. But don’t worry, I got’cha.”

“I know,” you hum, trying to press yourself closer to him. “I love you, Frankie.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

#my writing #frank castle x reader #frank castle fic #the punisher x reader #frank castle smut #marvel x reader #jon bernthal x reader #frank castle is so hot i jus …. mmfff

246 notes · View notes