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samaraxmorgan · 2 months ago

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Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time We Got High And Almost Kissed”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: brothers au, fluff, frenemies dynamic, use of illegal substances (cannabis)

Word Count: 2.63k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Sukuna always finds a way to surprise you, he’s definitely got that going for him. However, that’s not exactly a good thing the vast majority of the time, and today is no exception.

You turn the corner as you come up the stairs and find his bedroom door wide open. He’s hunched over on his bed using his pocket knife to slice open a cheap gas station cigar, spilling the tobacco onto a paper plate. He pulls a small plastic bag out of his back pocket and carefully pinches its contents out, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger before sprinkling it inside of the shell of the cigar. His eyes glance over into the hallway and he immediately does a double take after spotting you watching him, for a brief moment he looked like a deer in headlights.

You squint your eyes, your brows furrowing questionably, “Is that weed?”

He lets out a dry scoff, looking back down towards the blunt in his fingers and continuing to fill it up, “Creep.”

“You’re the one with the door wide open!” You exclaim, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

You step into his bedroom, walls littered with posters leaving no clear space in sight; even the ceilings are covered in black tapestries. You crawl onto the foot of his bed, your knees sinking into the red comforter. Sukuna’s hair is disheveled, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in focus, tired eyes narrowed down as he stuffs the flower into the dark brown paper.

“Isn’t that illegal?” You question, a little more snarky than you intended.

“What’re you, a cop?” His crimson eyes shoot a glare up at you, fingers rolling the blunt closed and his pierced tongue licking a stripe up the incision he cut into the wrapper to seal it back shut.

Did he really have to do that without breaking eye contact? He’s gonna be the death of me.

A tiny smirk creeps onto the corner of his lips, “You should try it, could really use something t’ get that stick out your ass.”

You give him an exaggerated eye roll, “I hate you so much, you know that?”

“Yeah yeah, not like y’tell me every day,” A spark flashes in his eyes, his sheepish grin turning more mischievous, “Hey tell you what, split this with me and I’ll show you my spot.”

Your head tilts in confusion, eyeing him up curiously, “Your spot?”

He leans back against the headrest of his bed, shrugging nonchalantly, “Didn’t think I smoked in the house, did you?”

It does never smell like cigarettes in the apartment, or weed, or whatever the hell else he’s smoking. You could smell it on his clothes all the time, but now that you think about it you’ve never actually seen him smoke before.

“You leave the house to smoke?”

“You could call it that, sure.” He hops off the bed, pulling on a pair of black combat boots from his closet and not bothering to tie them. He turns around to face you, looking down at you expectantly, “Gonna join me or not?”

He’s such a bad influence, you’re so aware of that. But you’re also so morbidly curious, and he’s a hard man to say no to, so you cautiously nod your head and stand up from his bed.

“Knew you had it in you.” He smirks, placing the blunt between his lips to hold it in place and snatching a disposable lighter off his nightstand, stuffing it into his pocket.

Sukuna walks across his room to the window, his back facing the glass as he slides it open behind him, and then leaning back to stick his torso outside. His strong tattooed arms reach up over his head as he grabs the edge of the roof and lifts his legs into a crouch, promptly pulling his whole body out the window, doing one hell of a pull up to lift himself up onto the roof in one fluid motion.

Your jaw nearly drops to the floor. There’s no fucking way he’s seriously expecting you to be able to do that.

You see strands of his pink hair first as he pops his head upside down to peer down into the window, reaching his arm inside and outstretching his open palm to you, “C’mon, you won’t fall.” He pauses for a moment, flashing you a mischievous grin, “… Probably.”

You give him a weary and unconfident smile, “How reassuring.”

Taking tentative steps towards the window, you see his grin grow wider. You gently place your hand in his palm and he doesn’t waste a second, wrapping his fingers around your knuckles and squeezing tight, yanking his arm towards him to pull you closer. For just a mere second, the two of you were eye level as he hung his head upside down, your surprised eyes locking with his confident ones and his breathy laughter ghosting onto your forehead.

But just as quickly, his head dipped out of view. His low voice calls down to you from the roof as his impatient hand pulls you closer, “Put your foot up on the windowsill.”

You tentatively place your foot on the ledge, squeezing his hand tight to steady yourself as you shift your weight onto your other leg and pull yourself up to stand on the windowsill. His free hand quickly wraps under your arm, pulling you up and towards him, his arms wrapping tightly around your chest and waist as he pulls you into his lap with your back flush against him.

He leans his chin down on your shoulder, his breath fanning the side of your neck as he sarcastically whispers, “Almost dropped you there.”

A deep blush paints your face red. His legs are spread with your own planted in between them, his arms wrapped protectively around you and squeezing your body against his chest as he keeps you locked in place directly on his lap. You squirm under his hold and it only makes his breathy chuckle tickle your skin, his lips just barely brushing against your neck.

He loosens his hold on you for only a moment to pick the blunt off of the shingles, placing it between your lips while mumbling “Hold this” before his arms are tight around you again. He plants his feet against the roof and slides backwards, shimmying you both up to a flat section to sit more comfortably.

As he releases you from his grasp, you’re reluctant to leave. Lifting your hips from their home on his lap, you plop down onto the flat section of the roof next to him. He wasn’t kidding about this being his spot, there’s already an ashtray up here with cigarette butts sprinkled in the bowl. And you can’t really blame him for coming up here, the sky is orange and pink with clouds stretching thinly across the horizon, the city’s silhouette faintly in the distance, tall trees forming a barrier around the back of the apartment that feels safe and protected, it’s honestly really nice, peaceful.

Sukuna pulls his lighter out of his pocket, sparks sprinkling with each flick of the wheel until it holds a steady flame. He leans in close, holding the light against the end of the blunt that you held between your teeth.

“Breathe in.” His gaze is dropped to your lips, free hand reaching up to gently hold the blunt steady against your mouth with his thumb and forefinger.

As you inhale you see orange embers form at the end of the blunt, smoke rapidly filling your lungs and stinging the back of your throat. You can’t keep the smoke down, immediately hacking up a painful burning cough that only makes him snicker.

“Hm, you’ll get it eventually.” He brings the blunt to his lips and inhales a long hit, holding his breath for a few seconds before teasingly blowing the smoke into your face.

“Ugh,” You fan your hand in front of your face to clear the smoke, “That’s terrible. It tastes so gross.”

He smirks and rolls his eyes, flicking the ash into the small tray, “So dramatic, ‘ts not that bad.”

Your eyes are glued to his fingers, holding the blunt with his pointer finger and thumb and tapping ash away with his middle, the veins on the back of his hand gently protruding out and then settling back into place with each tap of his finger. As your eyes drift to the ashtray and you realize that there are only orange cigarette butts in the bowl, no snuffed out roaches from him smoking anything else.

You pull your knees up to your chest, tilting your head to rest your cheek on your legs when you look up at him, “How come you’re getting high?”

“Needed it tonight.” His answer was quicker than you expected, his eyes locked on the city lights shining in the distance.

“How come?”

His head doesn’t move, but his eyes flick to you. Wordlessly he holds the blunt towards you, the expectant look in his eyes and quirk in his brow telling you that he’s not planning to give you an answer until you take another hit.

You let out a small huff, taking the blunt from his fingers and taking a short drag, trying to hold the smoke in your lungs and keeping your lips sealed shut to try not to cough. Your attempt was futile though, your cheeks puffing out and smoke blowing out of your nose as your throat burned again.

He let out a small snicker at your misery, letting one of his legs lay outstretched across the slant of the roof while he bent his knee on his other leg to rest his chin on, “Brat’s working his first day at his new job tonight.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, your lips dragging down into a frown, “Brat being… who?”

He scoffs, like the answer to that should be so obvious, “My brother, the one you met.”

You hum in acknowledgment, but you’re still confused what that has to do with Sukuna wanting to get high, “What’s the new job?”

He blows a raspberry, tilting his head up towards the sky while he takes another drag, smoke echoing off his lips as he speaks, “Firefighter, been his dream job since we were kids.”

Realization clicks in your brain, making a smile creep onto your lips, “You big softie, you’re worried about him!”

“Tch.” He glares down at you, but his frustrated look only makes you giggle. The look in his eyes quickly softens, shifting to a look of amusement as he leans in closer to you and peers into your eyes. You let out a little laugh, opening your eyes wide to stare goofily at him and causing a smile to crack on his face, “Are you high already?”

“No!” You counter defensively, “You’re just… cute.”

Oh fuck, I’m totally high.

He gives you a lopsided grin, “You’re a terrible fuckin’ liar.”

You giggle and flop onto your back, lying flat on the roof, “Stop changing the topic! We’re talking about you!” You reach your arm out to point in his face, “You’re worried about him! You love him!”

“Ugh,” He gives you an exaggerated eye roll, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist and pulling it down out of his face, “I absolutely do not.”

You give him a toothy smile, poorly mimicking his deep voice, “Terrible fuckin’ liar.”

A deep laugh bubbles up from his chest, his gravelly voice sounding so breathy and happy, creases forming at the outer corners of his tired eyes. He releases your wrist from his grasp, planting his open palm next to your head and resting his weight on his arm to lean the slightest bit closer to you, his free hand bringing the blunt up to his lips as he tilts his head down to look at you with an uncharacteristically sweet smile, “So stupid.”

You can’t help but giggle under his gaze, the warm orange glow of the sunset reflecting in his heavy lidded eyes, a thin ring of crimson around his blown out pupils. His lips wrapping around the dwindling blunt and taking a long hit as the embers come alight. He leans down and gently blows the smoke into your face, making you squeeze your eyes shut.

He gently knocks his knuckle against your cheek to get you to open your eyes, gesturing the blunt to you, “Give me one more.”

You let out an over dramatic groan, covering your face with your hands, “No I’ll choke! I need you to baby bird it to me.”

He quirks his brow, a mischievous smirk curling on the corners of his lips, “Baby bird? Like spit it in your mouth?” He lets out a small chuckle. You part your hands away from your face to peer up at him as he takes another drag, holding the smoke in his mouth as he cups your chin to tilt your head towards him and leans down close to your face, smoke on his breath fanning your lips as he whispers, “Like this?”

Your mouth opens slightly in surprise as his lips are mere millimeters away from yours, gently exhaling smoke into your parted lips. Your cheeks burn red and your wide eyes stare up into his lazily lidded ones, already trained on you. You slowly breathe in the smoke, feeling him lean closer towards you, his gaze dropping down as his lips just barely brush against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, heart pounding in your chest as you feel his fingers trace their way from your chin along your jaw, tilting your head slightly to perfectly slot your lips with his-

But the moment abruptly comes to a halt as Sukuna’s phone loudly rings in his pocket, the ring tone blaring “I like big butts and I cannot lie!” as he freezes in place and both of your eyes shoot open.

“Pfft!” You throw your head back in laughter, your chin clocking Sukuna in the jaw as he shoots up straight and mutters curses under his breath, frantically fumbling for his phone in his pocket.

The obnoxious music quickly stops as he answers the phone, rubbing the sore spot on his jaw as he spoke with a hint of panic in his voice, “Yuuji?”

Even though he wasn’t on speaker phone, you could hear Yuuji loud and clear, emphasis on loud as Sukuna flinched the phone away from his ear as Yuuji yelled out the small speakers, “Guess who saved a cat at work today!”

You could see a look of relief wash over Sukuna’s face, but he didn’t let it translate into his voice, speaking in a low and annoyed tone, “I was hoping you’d die in a fire.”

Yuuji belted out a loud laugh on the other line, “Not yet! But don’t take it off your bingo card!”

A wide smile spreads across your face, yelling loud enough for Yuuji to hear, “You had him worried sic- mmph!”

Sukuna shoved his palm over your mouth, shooting a glare down at you as he spoke to Yuuji, “Ignore them.”

You tried to bite his hand over your mouth and he whispered “Fucking brat” down to you as Yuuji rambled about his first day at work, something about a cat being stuck in a tree and how he thought that was a myth but it’s totally a real thing. It quickly became clear that the moment between you and Sukuna had fizzled out, but he was probably just teasing you anyway right? It definitely meant nothing, surely. If Yuuji hadn’t called he would have just backed away and laughed at you or something.

He wasn’t actually gonna kiss you… right?

A/N: DONT KILL ME WE’LL GET THERE EVENTUALLY!! Anyway y’all like Yuuji’s ring tone I thought it suited him askakaka Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

#little did yall know that last drabble was the prelude for this part #I’ve had that planned for like over a MONTH #I was giggling maniacally when I posted that drabble like ‘they don’t know what’s coming’#my writing #nav ryomen sukuna #roommate Sukuna au #brothers au #jjk #jujustu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #Sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk modern au

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lipglossanon · 30 days ago

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Day 28

Kink: Blood

Pairing: Ghostface!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, blood, killer!Leon, stalking, noncon, humiliation, dirty talk, blood, violence, bodily harm (Leon takes a knife to readers body in a very unsexy way), unprotected sex, creampie; Leon is not a nice guy in this 👌

not proofread

Your mom calls you up and talks you into taking your cousin out trick or treating.

It’d be so nice and little Lucy would be over the moon to see you! No one’s able due to other commitments, and wouldn’t it be nice to come home and visit for a while?

Rolling your eyes, you pull into the driveway of your childhood home and out of your own reverie. There’s only a few plastic pumpkins sitting on the porch near the front door.

“Way to get into the spirit,” you mutter, boot nudging a grinning gourd until it nearly tips over.

“Oh, you’re here!”

The front door swings open and your mom pulls you into a hug.

“Told you I would be,” you pat her back before stepping away.

“I know,” she wrings her hands, eyes darting around nervously. “Let’s get inside.”

She tugs your bicep and once you’ve stepped over the threshold, she locks the door.

“Can’t be too careful,” she gives you a wan smile. “Let’s talk in the living room.”

Her nervous energy carries over with her, leg bouncing after she sits on the couch with the tv playing low in the background. She points at the screen with the remote as you sit down, the volume blaring to life.

“As reported by RCLN, the police have confirmed the death of four citizens. Sources say this could be the work of a killer much like authorities saw in Woodbridge years prior. Local county officials have issued a city wide curfew beginning at 10:00 PM—“

The blonde news reporter goes mute as your mom silences the TV.

“There’s been a lot of worry, so if you don’t feel comfortable taking Lucy out, we would all understand,” she says, eyes serious.

“She has to be dropped off by eight tonight, right? That’s plenty of time for me to take her and then be back home before curfew,” you assure her. “Besides, I’ll stick to the streets closest to the police station.”

Relief and worry flitter over her features, “If you’re sure.”

“I am. And I’ll turn my phone tracking on as well as share my location,” you wiggle your phone at her. “And I’ll text you as soon as I’m home.”

Sighing, she looks like she ages ten years before wiping her face and reverting back to her usual self.

“Right, okay,” she claps her hands. “Well, I need to head off, got the late shift tonight.”

As she stands, she glances down at her watch, “You should probably head over and pick up Lucy. Get an early start.”

“Alright, mom,” you follow her back outside, parting ways once you climb into your car.

You guys wave goodbye to each other and you back out of the drive, heading to your aunt’s house. It’s pleasant and extremely nostalgic, being able to see all the usual faces out and about—although, when you look closer, you can tell everyone seems to be on edge.

You’re going to keep your head on a swivel, especially when out later with Lucy, but you feel fairly confident you’ll be safe. You’ll stick to heavily populated areas near the sheriffs office and make sure to lock up once you’re back home. Honestly, it should be a pretty chill night.

Tapping your phone to double check the time, you park on the last street of the night��the one right across from the RPD. There’s dozens of people out with their families, all dressed up for the holiday. A group of kids rush past you as you open your door, shrieking and laughing, costumes streaming behind them. Smiling, you open your backseat and help Lucy out.

“This is our last call, little miss,” you take her hand in yours. “But this street has the full sized candy bars, so I don’t think you’ll be too disappointed.”

She smiles up at you, a couple of baby teeth missing, “Okay!”

“Okay!” You parrot back, smile breaking out a cross your face.

She swings your clasped hands together until you reach the first house; she then drops it in favor of skipping up to the door and pressing the doorbell.

Rinse and repeat.

By the time you’ve circled the block and started heading back up to your car, you’re carrying her little pumpkin bucket filled to the brim with sweets. Your attention is on her, listening as your cousin tells you why she hates circus peanuts (which she’s completely correct about) when you bump into someone in front of you.

Her plastic jack-o-lantern spills out a few pieces of candy as you rock back on your heels.

“Oh, shi—I mean, shoot,” you cringe at the near slip up. “Sorry about that, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“It’s okay,” the policeman you ran into smiles.

Your first thought is he’s a walking cliche: a blonde hair, blue eyed cop. Even if he is cute. The blue of his uniform looks so bright in the waning twilight, you kinda feel like a dumbass for running into him. He adjusts his walkie where it’s clasped onto his belt.

“And where are you two lovely ladies headed to this evening?”

Your cousin giggles, “Home. We went trick or treating!”

“You did?” He crouches down to be more at eye level with her. “And you’re dressed up like a princess?”

Lucy shakes her head no, “Uh uh.”

She points to the tiara on her head, “I’m the queen of hearts. See? Oh! And this too!”

She brings up her plastic scepter with a little pink heart on the end.

“Ahh, of course!” He smiles and it makes your chest flutter.

“Are you a real police officer?” She frowns at him.

“Yep, I’m Officer Kennedy, but you can call me Leon,” he stands back up, hand fishing out a couple of caramels from his pocket. “Sorry I don’t have any of the good stuff.”

“Thank you!” Lucy chirps, holding out her palm face up.

Officer Kennedy drops the candy into her hand then offers the second out to you.

“Oh,” you feel flustered, “uh, sure. Thanks, Officer.”

“Leon,” he affirms, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “You must be new in town?”

You laugh awkwardly, “Um, not really. I mean, I grew up here but moved away. I’m back to help take her trick or treating.” You face Lucy and gently squeeze her hand with a smile, “Isn’t that right, kiddo?”

“Yep!” She smiles back.

“Okay, well I’ll let you two get back to it,” he steps away to let you both pass on the sidewalk. “There’s a curfew so don’t be out too late.”

“Thanks, but we’re just going straight home,” you nod. “Goodnight, officer—Leon.”

He grins at your slip, “Goodnight.” He nods his head at Lucy, “Your majesty.”

She giggles and tugs your hand forward, shouting goodnight back to him. You let her lead you back to your car, helping her buckle in and placing her candy in the floorboard. She pouts and tries to grab for it.

“But—“

“This way, if something happens, we don’t spill it everywhere.”

“Oh, okay,” she sighs.

Smiling to yourself, you raise up and make your way over into the driver’s seat. Pulling away from the curb, you head back to your aunt’s house to drop Lucy off. Being occupied with making sure she’s comfortable, you miss the police car tailing your vehicle.

It follows you as you drop off Lucy with your Uncle, who just got off work. He tries to convince you to stay, but you beg off, telling him you promised your mom you’d stay home. Waving goodbye to them, you drive back to your mom’s place, still totally oblivious to the cruiser following you. You park in the same spot you did earlier in the evening, humming when you get out of the car.

Reaching into your pocket, you pull out your keys, chapstick, and a caramel candy. You stick the key in the lock and pocket the chapstick, but grin down at the candy in your hand. Unwrapping it, you pop the treat into your mouth and finish unlocking the door.

Stepping into the house, you shut and lock the door behind you. Pulling up your phone, you shoot your mom a quick text to let her know you’ve made it back safe and sound. The police car sits idling across the street before pulling away, slowly driving down the rest of the block before turning onto a separate lane.

You’ve changed into a comfy shirt three times too big and opted out of pajama pants, so you can curl up and watch horror movies. Finishing off your drink, you climb out of bed and head downstairs to get more.

As you’re passing through the dark living room, you hear the front door rattle. Freezing in place, you stay stock still, ears straining for any other sound. You hear the door knob rattle again and creep closer to peer around the wall. Watching the handle, you see it jiggle but it doesn’t turn. You curse under your breath, having forgotten your phone upstairs.

A heavy tread walks across your porch, steps creaking as whoever it is walks away from the front door. You stay in place—having seen enough movies that you know better than to go to the door. Your legs are stiff when you finally pull yourself away from the wall, slowly walking to the kitchen. Maybe it was some trick or treaters? Although it’s way too late.

Could be the killer…

That intrusive thought buzzes in your ears like an annoying gnat, even as you try to squish it down. Grabbing a water and a soda, you begin to make your way back upstairs to your room. As soon as your foot touches the bottom step, the doorbell rings loud as hell in the quiet.

“Fucking shit,” you gasp, nearly dropping everything in your hands.

Copying your earlier steps, you peek around the wall to check the door. You catch the top of a police cap through the small window and breathe a sigh of relief. Hurrying over, you unlock your door and pull it open.

“Apologies for the—oh, hello, again,” Officer Kennedy shifts on his feet, hand coming up to push his cap back.

“Hi,” you grip your drinks a little tighter, surprised to see him again.

“Do you always answer the door in such undress?” He cocks his head at you, lips pulling up into a grin.

Glancing down to see your shirt just reaches your thighs, your blood rushes hot, embarrassment making your heart race, “Oh, no! I-I didn’t mean to—look, some weirdo was testing my door earlier and I was headed upstairs when you came by and—“

He holds his hands up placatingly, “Whoa, whoa there. I was only teasing. You said someone tried to get in?”

Nodding, you continue, “I think. I mean the door handle jiggled a little before they walked off. It could just be a late trick or treater?”

“Maybe,” he looks off the porch to the side of the house. “I’ll take a quick look around.”

“Thank you, I’d appreciate that so much, Leon,” you effuse.

Giving you a little salute, he ducks off the porch and pulls out his flashlight, carefully checking the area. You watch him disappear around the side of the house and anxiety makes your scalp prickle. It feels like forever before his flashlight bobs back into view. He comes back to stand in front of you.

“I didn’t see anything, so maybe it was just some kids,” his eyes glance down at your bare legs before flicking back up to your face. “I’ll let you get back to your mom.”

“Oh, she’s not home,” the words spill from your mouth before you can think better of it. “And thanks for checking.”

“Not a problem,” he smiles slowly and it gives you an odd feeling of nerves. “Have a good night now, ma’am.”

He walks off down the block, presumably to the next house, as you step back inside to re-lock your door. It’s not until you’re in your room, sitting the drinks down onto your dresser when you realize he never said why he stopped by in the first place.

Well, it’s not like there isn’t some maniac on the loose. Probably just out checking on people, keeping the town secure. You push it from your mind and pick up your phone, texting your mom to let her know everything. Can never be too safe. Since she’s working, you don’t expect to hear from her so put your phone on charge and crawl back into bed.

Hours pass and you finish up a couple of movies before deciding on actually going to sleep. Not able to shake off the feeling, you decide to double check the door locks before passing out. Grabbing your phone this time, you creep downstairs and check on the front door. Passing the lock check, you then head into the kitchen to the backdoor.

Luckily, you didn’t cut on the light, but it doesn’t help the fear crawling up your throat like bile. The backdoor’s open. Not thrown open—just a sliver, just enough to have you pulling your phone up to dial 911.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a strangely robotic voice yanks the phone from your hand from behind your shoulder.

Crying out, you nearly trip over your feet trying to move towards the open door and away from the psycho in your house. However, a strong grip around your neck stops you in your tracks.

“Ah ah ah,” the weird intonation chides. “You’ve been such a good girl so far, let’s not ruin it now.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whisper, tears clogging your throat.

Your hands hesitate at your sides, fists clenching, nails biting your palms. The person behind you shifts until they’re standing in front of you. A black robe and hood cover their body while a white screaming ghost mask hides their face. They bring a knife up to tap against your sternum.

“If you’re really good,” their odd voice sounds amused. “You’ll get to live.”

Nodding, tears drip down your cheeks, “O-okay.”

“Good girl,” they purr, trailing the knife down to your shirt hem. Lifting the material with the blade, they laugh when they see your plain cotton panties.

“So good, aren’t you? Bet this cunt is just ripe for the taking,” they reach their gloved hand out to smack your mound.

Flinching, you bite your lip to keep from crying out. Everything inside you clenches, body breaking out in a cold sweat as nausea roils in your gut. Your legs shake so hard, you think you’re gonna collapse.

“I n-need to sit d-down, pl-please,” you stutter out.

“Poor thing,” the robotic reply instills no comfort. “Let’s go to your room, shall we?”

The psycho grabs your arm and forcibly leads you through your house and up the stairs; they shove you out in front of them and gesture forward with a wave of their knife.

“Your room. Now.”

You move forward, stumbling into your bedroom with the masked killer right behind you. Sitting heavily down on the edge of your mattress, they move in front of you to zip tie your wrists together. You feel yourself going numb—there’s no more room for fear.

“I think I can trust you,” the voice distorts as they start to adjust the mask. “So I’m going to leave your legs alone.”

You nod and they shake the knife at you playfully, “But, if you do anything stupid, I’ll gut you like fish and leave your pretty insides on the outside for mommy to find.”

Fresh tears spill from your eyes, “O-kuh-kay.”

They hum happily, “Good. Let’s see what we’re working with then.”

Grabbing your thighs, they shove them up and open, making you fall back against your bed. Using the knife, they slice through your panties and toss them onto the floor.

“Oh, what a pretty girl,” they laugh. “Damn. Just knew this pussy was gonna be good.”

Shivering, you twitch and squeak as they run their gloved fingers across your slit to tap the hood of your clit. Kneeling in front of you, they undo the bottom half of their mask and set it on the floor. Glancing down at it, you can see the hinged jaw holds a small voice changer over the mouth.

“Let’s have a taste of that sweet cunt,” his voice sounds familiar, but you’re unable to place it and your mind skitters away from thinking any thoughts.

He hungrily licks at your pussy lips, tongue parting your folds to lap at your hole.

You try to fight against the rising tide of arousal, but it’s a losing battle. With every press of his disgusting tongue, more slick drips from your pussy into his smug mouth. You grit your teeth, swallowing down every sound that he wrenches from you. It shouldn’t feel so good.

He moves his mouth up to your swollen clit, suckling the bud between his lips to slowly circle his tongue around it. Your hips jump up, pressing your pelvis against his mouth and he chuckles. The vibration makes you whine and the dam bursts for him—he eats you out voraciously. Holding your hips down to the bed, he sucks and lathes your sensitive bundle of nerves until he pulls an orgasm from you.

Moving his head back, slick glistens across his lips and chin.

“Taste so good, can’t wait to stuff this pussy with my cock,” he grins and you hiccup a sob.

“Please, don’t,” you sniffle, hips squirming under his palms.

Grabbing his knife from where he placed it, he uses it to push your shirt up to pool underneath your breasts.

“Time to give you something to cry about,” he murmurs before his lips tick up into a mean smile. “This will hurt.”

The tip of his blade dips down to your stomach and he makes a firm cut into your skin. When you yell in pain, he clicks his tongue and slaps his palm down over your parted lips. He continues to carve words into your stomach as you scream, sound muffled by his hand over your mouth.

By the time he finishes, you feel faint from the pain and having your mouth and nose obstructed.

“There’s my good girl,” he coos condescendingly. “Keep quiet for me, we’re almost through.”

Your head lolls to the side, silently crying as the killer ducks down to run his tongue through the cuts he made. When he raises his head, blood’s smeared across his entire lower face.

“Almost as good as that soft juicy cunt,” he makes a show of licking it off his lips. “Think I’m ready for the main course.”

You can’t see, but you can hear as he undoes his pants, the zipper extra loud amidst your harsh gasping. He shifts between your thighs and the head of his dick parts your slick pussy lips. With one snap of his hips, he’s burying his cock halfway into your cunt, walls gripping and squeezing him tightly.

“Oh, fuck,” he drops his head to watch as his cock spears you open. “Fat wet pussy’s swallowing me up. Good girl, good fucking girl.”

The breath rushes from your body with every thrust into your clenching heat. The skin of your stomach burns with the movement, blood sluggishly seeping from the cuts into your flesh. His fingers slip down to rub and pinch your clit. Writhing in place and despite the pain, you can’t stop from feeling full and so, so good.

“Nooo,” you whimper.

“Yes,” he pants, humping your pussy even faster. “God, gonna cream this chubby pussy—shoot it nice and deep.”

You hate that his words make you wet, clit throbbing under his rough fingers as he pounds away at your hole. He adjusts his angle and you nearly scream, the head of his dick knocking against your cervix. Your brain blanks out, the pain between your legs meshing with the pain of your tummy until it’s all white noise.

The only thing you can do is cling onto the feeble pleasure he’s giving you.

“That’s it, want you to feel it tomorrow, feel how deep I fucked this pretty pussy,” he grunts, sweat beading in his upper lip.

“Please,” you whimper, “oh, please, please, please.”

“Shhh, I’ll make you cum again, don’t worry,” he laughs and you notice flecks of blood on his teeth.

He reaches up to the blood pooling in your belly button and brings his fingers back down to your clit, rubbing it into your pudgy bud. You whine continuously, sickeningly grateful for the reprieve of pain when your arousal pushes through that fog of misery.

Snapping his hips harder into you, he growls and moans, cock pistoning in and out of your cunt at a dizzying pace. His fingers continue to circle and rub your clit until you’re clenching and whimpering, pussy walls milking his cock, as he stays true to his word, bringing you to climax once more.

“Good girl, fuck, gonna nut in this soft pussy, leave you with a Halloween treat,” he snarls down at you. “Say thank you.”

“T-thank you,” you weep, sinuses clogged.

“God damn,” he hisses under his breath and slams his hips into you one last time.

Disgust fills you just like his seed, warm and potent, settling deep in your body in a way that you’ll never forget. Your body feels like a limp dish rag when he pulls out, cum leaking from your pussy to stain your sheets.

“This shit is so hot sometimes,” his mouth twists in a grimace and right before your eyes, he slips off the hood before taking off the rest of his mask.

You’re too weak for anything more than a wounded sound from your throat as the officer from earlier in the night sits before you.

“Surprise,” he grins at you, blonde fringe ruffled and sweaty. “Or should I say Happy Halloween.”

#kinktober 2024 #kinktober #lipglossanon kinktober 2024 #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #ghostface!leon #Ghostface!leon s kennedy #fem!reader #ghostface!leon s kennedy x fem!reader

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kaylopolis · 5 months ago

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Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Twelve

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power…

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

SUPRISE, YOU GET TWO CHAPTERS TODAY! Chapter Thirteen is also up! Posted a bit early because I was too excited!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Twelve- The Kidnapping

Content Warning: MINORS DNI!!!! (let me know if I missed any!)

“It’s been twenty fuckin' minutes!” Velvette kicked at the air. “How much longer do I have to fuckin' wait!?”

The brat demon’s words echoed throughout the night. Pentagram City waited sixty floors below, V Tower being the tallest building around. The roof and top few floors were newly rebuilt, complete with a penthouse beneath Velvette’s feet and a rooftop designed for entertaining.

Alastor sat tied to a chair, surrounded by a platform that overlooked three sides of the tower. Velvette had wanted a pool, so she got one, along with a hot tub and a poolside bar. It was designed with Sinstagram in mind. Of course, the layout is aesthetically pleasing for one with a proclivity for photos and videos. It also created a great place to stage a kidnapping with numerous installed cameras - courtesy of Voxtek Technologies - that captured every angle.

The brat demon was rearing to go the moment she hit send on the video, including a live link to watch the battle about to go down, but what she didn’t expect was for you to take so damn long!

The demon groaned in his chair.

“Oh, shut it,” Velvette rolled her eyes. Cell phone in hand, the brat had stationed herself in a lounge chair, attempting to appear nonchalant while she waited. At about three minutes passed she double-checked that she actually posted the video. At about five, she was growing impatient. At ten, she could no longer sit still and took to pacing in her new boots - her outfit was meticulously designed for this fight because, of course, it was. At fifteen, she became angry. At about twenty, she was royally pissed off.

“How dare I be made to wait!!” She turned to Alastor, beaten and bruised - the demon hung his head, slipping back and forth from consciousness. “You were supposed to be fuckin' valuable! You…!”

“Angel Detected! Angel Detected! Angel Detected! Angel Detected!” Velvette’s notification screen lit up with alerts.

Voxtek’s Angelic security was now online, and its perimeter expanded out five blocks from V Tower - it was two, but after you attacked, they decided they needed a bit more warning time from incoming threats.

Quickly, Velvette typed out a text before finding her place before Alastor. The Overlord was ready.

In a cloud of black smoke, you came flying down from above, landing in an explosion of shadow. The smoke curled away from your feet, invading the freshly placed tile of the rooftop. It lopped over the edges, across the pool, even going as far as Velvette’s feet before dissipating.

The female Vee took a step back, out of reach of your dark magic. Clutching the knife, she pointed it in your direction, “About fuckin’ time! Do you know how long I have been waiting here!?”

You didn’t respond.

“Well!?”

You didn’t move, continuing to stare down the Overlord with your glowing yellow eyes.

Velvette stomped her foot, “You have nothing to say!?”

More silence.

The demon stomped forward, her arms balled into fists at her sides. With tears in her eyes, she screamed, “You murdered my best friend and destroyed my home for no fuckin' reason, and you have nothing to say to me!?”

Silence as the tension was building. Vox’s cameras zoomed in on you as if waiting for an answer. After a long moment, you held your hand up and…

… started violently coughing?

You bent over at the waist, your hands on your knees as you coughed as hard as you could.

“Holy shit. I’m… I’m… So sorry.” A voice choked out,, little puffs of black smoke escaped the hood as they talked. “I was holding my breath for as long as I could, but the smoke was… too much!”

Velvette took a step back, thoroughly confused- that was not the voice she remembered you having. She grabbed her phone and scanned you using the Soul Scanner app Vox downloaded onto it.

“Lucifer Morningstar,” the lady’s voice read out.

“What!?” She shrieked, taking a step back. The demon flipped to another app and pushed a button.

There was a shriek from behind her.

Velvette spun to find you collapsed on the ground, nearly out of reach of Alastor’s chair. In your leather gear, your silver hair braided back into a twist that reached halfway down your back, the watch Vox had given you morphed. The metal bit into the flesh of your wrist, hooks preventing it from being removed. The metal contraption had delivered an electric shock so powerful, it dropped you where you stood.

Velvette’s gaze shot between you and Lucifer, who had since thrown his hood back so he could breathe.

“Oh, sorry…” Lucifer cringed, eyes red from the smoke.

____________________________________________

(20 minutes earlier)

You resisted the urge to smack your face. “Okay, let’s try this one more time. Fire.” You summoned your flame.

“Fire.” Lucifer did the same.

“Smother.” You clapped your hands together, the flames extinguishing, allowing smoke to pool from between your fingers.

“Smother.” Lucifer did the same, but instead of a wave of smoke, the King produced merely a trickle. “Hey, I got it!” The Angel beamed, jumping up and down like a proud child.

It had only taken like fifty fucking tries but sure… He did it.

“Okay,” you huffed. “Now, do that while you're flying and while you’re standing there. I usually always have a little bit milling about for aesthetic purposes, so if you don’t do it, it'll be weird.”

“Right, and no talking?” He frowned a little.

“No talking.”

“But I have such good comebacks prepared,” the King pouted.

“No.” You handed him your cloak. “Keep the hood up; she doesn’t know it’s you, so she won’t be able to see under the cloak at any point in time.”

Lucifer threw the black fabric around his neck, tying the strings together. “You don’t ever suffocate in this?”

You looked at him dumb. “Smoke is heavy. It naturally wants to flow down and away. Let it do its thing, and you’ll be fine.”

The King pulled the hood up, “And no talking?” He prodded again.

“The second you open your mouth, Velvette will know it’s not me. Just stay quiet till I can get to Alastor, okay?”

“Fine!” The King whined.

God, you did not miss his childlike attitude. Okay, moving on, “Angel, what ya’ got for me?”

____________________________________________

(Now)

Move!

You forced yourself to your feet, scrambling for Alastor. While Lucifer distracted Velvette, you were to sneak in from the other direction and attempt to untie Alastor before she noticed. You tried, before you left the safety of your hiding place, to use the connection you fostered with Alastor to somehow send him some of your energy - if that's even how this connection worked. The demon tried something similar with you the day you couldn't eat anything. He came scrambling home and used his magic to calm the bubbles in your chest and infuse your blood with life. It worked then, but it wasn't working now.

Alastor remained slumped forward in the chair, his face unreadable as you tried to reach out. You released a tentacle of magic from your core, but when it slithered over to the Radio Demon, it couldn't feel him. He was still breathing, still moving, but his magic felt absent.

Which terrified you.

If you could just get to him, maybe you could forcefully push some of your magic into him. Actually, you didn’t even need to get that far, you just needed to reach Rolf, you just needed to reach his shadow.

Mere steps from Alastor, Velvette hit the button on her phone again, sending a wave of electricity rocking through your body. You dropped like a stone, hitting the tile with a smack, your cheek cracking open on impact.

The female Vee spun, preparing to take on Lucifer, but the Angel had fled, leaving your black cloak in a pile on the ground where he once stood. You were on your own.

“There you are!” She cackled. The female Vee kneeled beside you, your body refusing to move as the electricity slowly ran its course. Goddammit, the wound on your torso burned. “Awww,” She pouted. “Little Thestral finally came out to play.”

Fuck.

“What? Didn’t think we’d figure it out? Ha!” She cackled. “Remember this?” The demon scanned your face with her camera.

The woman’s voice rang out, “Unknown.”

A memory surfaced of you and the remaining Vees battling it out at the base of V Tower. Vox scanned you during the fight, just as he had during your date. Both times, the woman called you “Unknown.”

Vox and Velvette have known it was you for weeks. Vox knew it was you today when he came to visit the Hotel and even when he was getting updates from Charlie. That’s why he wasn’t mad about you disappearing. That’s why he approached you again. He wasn’t apologizing. He was tricking you to get the watch on your wrist.

The Vees knew and were probably stalking you for weeks. Hence why they’ve been so quiet. They’ve been lying in wait, watching, waiting to see where your weaknesses lie.

And they found it: Alastor.

You knew the Radio Demon wasn’t sloppy. He didn’t make mistakes, and he didn’t miss any of the bystanders who saw the fight go down that day. What he wasn’t expecting - what neither of you was expecting - was Velvette and Vox being smart.

“Fuck you,” you gritted, your jaw stiff and tongue heavy. You spat, temporarily blinding Velvette with spit, and then punched her right in the nose. The demon fell back, blood spraying from her face, as you clumsily attempted to go for Alastor once more.

If you could just touch him…

“AH!” You jumped as another wave of electricity ran up your arm. Your body went stiff as you collapsed and landed THROUGH Alastor.

And then the demon DISAPPEARED.

“Ha, ha!” Velvette cackled, her finger still on the button as you convulsed at her feet. Fuck, your jaw clenched so tightly that a molar cracked. Your eyes threatened to roll back into your head before Velvette finally let you go.

What the fuck was going on?

“Did you like that? My idea, actually.” She clicked a button, and the image of Alastor reappeared next to you.

The demon was in the same position - his head slumped forward, his hair covering his face. He barely moved save for a moan here and there and the occasional rise of his chest to show he was breathing.

“You can’t capture Alastor’s image. He’s made that bloody impossible. So why not re-create him?”

You noticed the twitch in Alastor’s form then - it was a hologram. No wonder your magic didn't connect with anything. Nothing was there but light manipulated to look like Alastor.

If he wasn't here, then...

“Where is he?” You demanded, your words slurring with the effort it took to move your mouth. The last hit was harder than the ones before, each compounding on top of the other to create greater damage than one shock could do alone.

Velvette checked her phone screen, “Dead.”

You didn’t even humor her with a fake laugh or a dumb look. “Don’t give me the bullshit, Velvette. Where is he?” Life came back to your fingers, their movement stiff and constrained. You forced them to move, hoping it would speed up the process somehow.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” Velvette stood.

“Aww, do you really think I’m pretty?” You gritted.

Velvette considered the thought. “Well, the black dress didn't make me want to barf..."

You rolled your eyes. "Thanks..."

Spinning, Velvette called out, “Crim!"

Wait, Crim?

No one answered.

Velvette looked confused. “Crim!” She called out again, but nothing happened.

“Where the fuck did he…”

“Change of plans. Sweetheart,” Angel appeared at the edge of the landing above you, a giant piece of metal in hand. It kind of looked like a futuristic looking… bazooka? The spider demon kicked a tied and gagged Crim to the edge of the railing.

Hell, yes.

Velvette jumped back, putting ample space between you. You took the opportunity to force life into your body, attempting to push yourself into a seated position.

“The bad boys are tied up,” Nifty poked her head out from behind the bar, dragging a shark demon out into the open by his fin.

“Sorry!” Charlie and Vaggie appeared from behind the hot tub. Characteristically, the Princess apologized as a shark demon fell over, smacking his face against the tile.

DING! Husk and Pentious appeared in the elevator, kicking three sharks to their knees, guns aimed at the back of their heads - Carmilla Carmine weapons.

____________________________________________

(15 minutes ago)

“Angel, what ya’ got for me?” You trudged over to the spider demon, who had a hodgepodge of handwritten notes before him.

“Confirmed with Odette, Velvette ain’t just using Crim as a third party to buy the weapons, she hired ‘em, like you suspected.” Angel ran his hands over his notes as he talked. “But get this, she ain’t just buying guns, she’s goin’ afta big stuff.”

Angel handed you a paper. “An electric bazooka?” You scrunched your nose in confusion.

Carmilla never told you about anything like this.

“Vox apparently hired some of their engineers, been workin' on it for a while.” Angel crossed his arms and leaned back against the bar. "We’re walkin' into a trap."

“So, we just bluff,” Husk appeared behind the bar, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

“What?” You ask, grabbing the whiskey in his hand and trading it for water.

Husk stares you down but ultimately accepts the change without a fight. “Bluff, like in Poker,” He takes a swig. “Play like you got a good hand, even when you got a shit one. Make the other person fold before you lose and take the pot. It’s basic card skills.”

“Huh,” you thought, “that actually might work.”

“Hmm,” Angel pondered. “Ambush the ambush. Sounds kinda hot!”

Husk rolled his eyes.

“Lucifer!” You yelled. The King jumped, clearly in deep conversation with Vaggie. “I have another idea.”

____________________________________________

(Now)

“Fuck yeah!” Lucifer flew over the edge of the building and dropped a pile of gang members onto the tile roof. “You just got fucked!”

“Dad!” Charlie groaned. “It’s ‘fucked up.”

“Oh…” He cringed.

Velvette’s team was surrounded.

You knew it was only a matter of time before Velvette figured out it wasn’t you beneath the cloak. All she had to do was check her phone. So, if you somehow got caught while Lucifer was distracting Velvette, he was to sneak away and help Husk fly the rest of the team to the top few floors. Quietly and quickly, they’d take out the Crimson Mafia gang - thus ambushing the ambushers.

Ignoring the pain in your torso, you pushed yourself to your feet. Your newly healed muscles screamed.

“It was over before it even started, Velvette. Where’s Alastor?” You demanded.

“No!” She screamed. “It isn’t over.” She swiped something on her phone. “I had wanted to take my time killing you, but this will have to do.”

Fuck, she was going to electrocute you to death.

“No!” Charlie screamed.

BOOM!

In a panic, Angel did what anyone in his position would have done: he aimed the cannon and fired. A ball of electricity, larger than yourself, erupted from the barrel and was headed straight for Velvette.

BEEP! BUZZ! BEEP! BUZZ!

The watch around your wrist vibrated. And, because Vox had accounted for this, the projectile changed direction and headed straight for you. You had moments to dodge before it exploded beneath your feet, flinging you backward into the bar. Bottles of alcohol exploded, glass dug into your skin, and wood splintered around you as you smashed through the structure and went rolling toward the edge of the building.

The rooftop plunged into chaos as the Crim mafia gang took the opportunity to fight back. The world was a blur as you came to a stop, your mind spinning, your body stiff and immovable as your muscles convulsed. You must have bit your tongue because your mouth tasted of iron.

“Ah!” Velvette screamed. The demon jumped atop you as the sound of bullets filled the air. “Fuckin’ bitch!” She pulled out the knife, preparing to slash your throat.

But Nifty was faster. The small demon jumped atop Velvette’s hair and pulled. “Bad girl!” She screamed.

The demon fell off you as the two of them tossled.

Move! You need to move! You flooded your veins with magic but the fire did not burn life back into your body.

Fuck.

Think. Think. Think! If not fire, then… Wait!

"…shut down the whole grid!" Angel's words echoed in your mind. "All of Pentagram City was plunged into fuckin' darkness!"

If this technology was partially developed by Vox, maybe it had some similarities to his magic system.

Digging down deep, you grabbed that connection and pulled. Green static erupted over your skin, loosening your muscles and lessening the convulsions overtaking your body.

It was working!

You pulled harder, allowing the magic to explode from within you. The static breathed new life into your body, even going as far as stitching your healing muscles into strong fiber throughout your torso. You soon found yourself able to move, your body in even better health than before Velvette gutted you weeks ago. Moving onto your hands and knees, you sucked down a mouthful of air, your body finally your own again.

Jesus H. Christ, do not get hit by another one of those!

Nifty managed to get ahold of Velvette’s phone and tossed it over the side.

“No!” The demon crawled to the edge, screaming in vain as the cell phone plunged to the streets below.

You grabbed the Overlord by the collar of her shirt and lugged her to her feet. Your yellow eyes shined as the green magic enveloped your form. You could see the confusion in Velvette’s eyes, confusion at the control you now had over the magic which didn’t belong to you.

“Tell me or the next thing that drops sixty stories is you,” you could feel the power boiling, Alastor’s magic festering.

His magic was angry and so were you.

“You wouldn’t dare, bitch,” Velvette dug her nails into your forearm, her nails piercing your skin where the leather was thinnest.

“Try me,” the magic surged, pulsed as if fueled by the anger.

At the other end of the line you felt something push back, like a surge of magic calling out to you. While Velvette considered her options, you pushed back and felt something similar to a door open.

A heart beat. A breath. It was Alastor calling out to you in the same way you had tried to do before you left the Hotel for V Tower.

He was alive and he was angry. You might not know where he is, but he felt okay physically. Just extremely pissed off.

The static boiled, growing in power as a green aura emanated from you. You felt the shadows beneath your feet move, swirling about your ankles in anticipation of the murder you were about to commit.

“Velvette,” you garnered her attention, your voice almost sounding static-y, “last chance,” you swung her body over the edge, her feet dangling off the roof.

The fight behind her eyes shifted, “No.” she smiled.

CLICK!

You didn’t have to turn around to know the barrel end of a gun was pressed to the back of your head. You didn’t have to look to know it was Crim who wielded it.

“Put the boss lady down, gently,” the Mafia Boss commanded.

The static sizzled across your skin as you felt your demon form break through. Horns grew from your head, a sharp tail uncurled from your backside, and the sclera of your eyes turned red.

The fangs in your mouth sharpened as you smiled. You had a better idea.

You grabbed Velvette around the middle and jumped.

You summoned your wings as you fell, but unlike the last time you found yourself falling from this building, you didn’t aim for the cement. Instead, you pulled up at the last second - much to Velvette’s terror - and threw the Overlord onto the ground. Not enough to break anything, but enough to rough her up a bit.

You needed Velvette alive and put together enough to give you the information you needed - for now.

Spinning, you prepared to ascend the Tower to solve your little Crim problem when two large booms echoed throughout the streets.

Someone had fired two shots, honed in for your bracelet. If you were a gambling Angel you’d put your money on Crim.

Velvette cackled as you took flight, aiming for Heaven’s Clocktower. You watched the two balls of electricity bank as you turned, following you in circles about the plaza.

Shit, these things could maneuver… but how well?

You got an idea.

The Entertainment District has the largest buildings in town and as such you often found yourself flying through what felt like a maze night after night. It was the perfect place to lose the two missiles on your tail.

The first one was easy to lose. Heading from the Clocktower, you aimed for the first large building you came across. Banking hard right, you cut the turn so sharp your wing brushed the glass of the building. Taking a complete 180• turn, you headed right back for the Clocktower as the first ball exploded into the side of the glass building.

Shards rained down like acid behind you, showering the streets below.

The second one wasn’t so easily deterred, almost as if it had learned from the first. It didn’t sit as closely on your tail, and thus had more time to maneuver as you took the turns.

Soon it became obvious, the thing wasn’t going to quit. Fuck. You were hyperventilating, your face drenched in sweat, your wings cramping with the effort. You hadn’t flown in battle in what…? Since before the Age of Man? Your skit with the Leviathans maybe… at least your torso was holding up. Whatever Alastor’s static had done, it healed you, leaving behind nothing but a scar.

Fuck, what to do what to do!?

You craned your neck over your wing to catch a glimpse of the ball of blue electricity and that’s when you noticed the trail of green static following you across the sky. The sparks danced over your feathers and dissipated as they fell, like the trail on a shooting star. It was beautiful.

Alastor’s magic: the one person Vox’s electricity can’t take down.

Shit. Okay. Flight wasn’t working, so maybe it was time for fight.

You dug across the connection, throwing open the door to find an entire well of magic you didn’t know was there. Yet this magic was warm, smelled of the deep forest after rain, tasted of rye in your mouth… You took hold of this magic and used it to fuel the static drifting off your wings.

You had one shot at this, better make it count.

You soared skyward, till you were higher than V Tower. Then you fell. You spun so the ball of electricity was in front of you, your back to Pentagram City below. Grabbing hold of Alastor’s magic, you created a ball of magic of your own, composed entirely of Alastor’s static.

Then you threw it forward. It collided with the ball of blue energy and exploded in the sky, raining down blue and green sparks across the sky.

“Yes!” You cheered, safely making your way to the ground. You landed on the edge of Cannibal Town and the Entertainment District.

“Holy shit, that actually worked!” You laughed in disbelief. “Now for this piece of shit.” You concentrated the magic in your wrist and fried the watch. “Fuck you, Vox!” You ripped the watch off, gritting in pain as the hooks sliced through your skin.

The metal fell to the ground with a thud. Alastor’s static concentrated on your wrist, the green dancing across your wound. You watched the skin restitch itself and settle into a set of fresh scars.

Was this Alastor’s doing or some sort of acceleration of your blood’s natural healing abilities? Did Alastor’s magic amplify it somehow?

So many questions… Hopefully Alastor had answers because this was so weird. Sharing his magic…? What did that mean?

“Oh - !” There was a tug behind your navel so strong it knocked you back a step.

What the fuck was that?

Another tug, this one even stronger. You braced yourself as orange and mint flooded your nostrils.

The third tug knocked you onto your ass, but it was the feeling the card gave you that finally helped you to understand - Alastor was using his obsidian calling card to summon you and he had used his own blood.

Which meant two things: 1. Alastor was desperate and 2. You knew where to find him.

Without so much a second thought you took off heading for the Entertainment District.

You landed at the base of V Tower the same moment a blur of black and blue went whizzing past you. Briefly, you registered the flying blurb as Vox - no, wait, he wasn’t flying. Vox had been thrown.

The media demon went slamming into a bloodied Velvette, the two of them went flying across the cement before coming to a stop in a pile of blood, broken bones, and wire.

Before you had a chance to register what was going on, a portal opened up about twenty feet away from you. The Hotel team came flooding out, weapons raised, prepared for a fight, but paused when they saw something behind you.

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Alastor?” You breathed, your entire body going rigid as you turned and…

A body slammed into you, warm and familiar. Alastor threaded his fingers through your hair, the other coming to rest at your back as he pulled you into him. His lips came crashing down on yours before you got a proper look at the demon.

It took your mind a moment to register what was going on, a moment before you were up on your toes, your arms around his neck, your body melting into him.

God, he tasted like blood and rye. His scent woeing you in a sea of iron and rain. Alastor was a wall of steel, holding you so fiercely - as if you might disappear in his arms.

The shadows about his feet danced - Rolf was okay too.

The demon came up for air, but he didn’t back away. Alastor kept his forehead on yours, his grip tightening around you, as he spoke, “Mon couer.”

My heart.

He didn’t have to say anything more. You understood. You were a perfect mirror image to the things he had been feeling and to the relief you both now expressed.

He was okay. Alastor was okay.

“What happened?” Was all you could manage to say before your voice broke and the ugly tears fell. “I thought they had you. I thought…”

“Shhhh,” Alastor shushed your tears, using his thumb to wipe away the water from your cheek. “I know.”

“Velvette was going to…”

“I understand,” he kissed your forehead.

“I didn’t know what else to do...” You choked. You grabbed onto the lapels of his now destroyed jacket. “Please, Alastor… Don’t leave me.”

The demon smiled softly, your face in his hands, “Never again.”

He embraced you, his chin resting on the top of your head as he held you.

Charlie approached you slowly, hesitant to ruin the moment but also so, so worried. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

“Perfectly fine, Princess. Seems Vox found it pertinent to occupy my time in the Doomsday District.”

A memory flashed in your mind…

“Well hello there little pet, where’s your master?”

“Like Hell I would tell you anything!”

“So he’s still making chaos in the Doomsday District then? That answers that question…”

Fucking Vox.

“Is she okay?” Charlie asked. You could hear the emotion in her voice.

The demon smiled into your hair.

Then, Alastor did something that would shock you for years to come, he opened an arm and invited her in. The Princess wrapped her arms around the two of you and soon, so did the rest of the Hotel Natives - minus Lucifer. The King had been standing there dumbfounded the moment Alastor kissed you.

Wow, he really did not like him.

“This isn’t over!” Vox yelled. He was bloodied and bruised, as was Velvette who was helping him limp over to your little cuddle fest.

Alastor had some fun while you were fighting the electricity across Pentagram City.

“Hmmm,” Alastor hummed. The group disbanded, taking a step behind you and the Overlord. “That is where you are wrong, old pal.”

The Radio Demon persona slammed back into place. He summoned his cane and twirled, before resting his hands atop it. Although he was in complete disarray, there was still an elegance which he held that Vox did not.

You made a mental note of the lack of shark demons coming to the Overlords’ rescue. Crim probably realized they were losing and hightailed it out of there. No worries, you’d pay the imp a visit later…

“Kill them?” You asked Alastor.

Alastor’s eyes lit up in amusement. “No, death is too good for them. The punishment is far more fun if they have to live with their humiliation.” The demon smiled, his lips curling at the edge.

“So then,” You looked to Alastor for permission. You wanted to show off for him, if he’d let you. “Unplug him?”

The demon tipped his head back and laughed, “After you, ma cherie.”

You took a step forward and summoned Alastor’s magic. Green waves of static licked your form as you dug deep into that well.

“Hey, Vox,” you smiled.

The demon stopped, his eyes bouncing from yours to Alastor’s. The demon’s screen glitched. “You're dating him now!?”

You rolled your eyes, “Vox, we never dated. We went on one date and it was horrible.”

Another glitch. “What!?”

“Are you two seriously going to talk about this now?” Velvette groaned.

“I was miserable. You’re a lousy date.” He was buffering, his screen going staticy as you felt Alastor’s magic reacting to Vox’s weaknesses.

“And, you’re a terrible kisser,” you smiled.

Vox shoved off Velvette and took a few wobbly steps forward. You were pretty sure his ankle was broken. “Now listen here, you little…”

“Uh-ah-ah!” You tutted. “I wasn’t done.” You closed the gap, and leaned in to whisper something in Vox’s ear.

The media demon exploded, his screen shifting from lost signal to his face to static to random colors. He fell backward into Velvette, who barely managed to catch him.

The cameras around you exploded, light bulbs popped, and storefront windows cracked.

And soon, the entirety of Pentagram City was plunged into darkness.

“Rolf,” you summoned the shadow. “Will you please take out the trash?”

The shadow smiled at you, his horns curling, before he whisked Velvette and a short-circuiting Vox off into the night.

And it was finally over.

Alastor came up behind you and ran his hand through the static - it tickled, actually. The demon was absolutely mesmerized. “You are beautiful in red, ma cherie,” He cupped your chin, his thumb running across your lower lip. “But green suits you far better than I could have imagined.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I told him…”

Alastor used his thumb to stop your lips, his eyes darkening. “I know what you said, ma cherie.”

Rolf swirled at your feet. The little snoop was eavesdropping.

Your face turned red. “Vox got a little close on our date. Not my fault that I could feel everything.”

Vox was all over you when he kissed you… It wasn’t long, but it was enough to know…

“Is it true?” Alastor’s eyes couldn’t leave your lips, his mind transfixed on their shape, their feel, the way they moved when you talked.

Ha! There’s the narcissist in him.

“Yes, Alastor,” you smirked. “You are much bigger.”

The static pulsed, reacting to the delight spreading across Alastor’s face, but you forced it down, forced the magic back behind its door. Now was not the time nor the place to get carried away. Especially considering you practically leveled a building the last time you and Alastor... got into it.

Actually, now was time for something else - a conversation you were dreading.

“Alastor,” you collected his hand in yours, “I need… I want to tell you everything.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up first, shall we?” Alastor smiled, holding out his elbow for you to take.

The demon wasn’t done with your previous conversation. “I want to hear more about what you think of me.” He smirked, his grin lopsided. That look always meant trouble. “And perhaps discover how you look dressed only in my static.”

Jesus… Did you - via standing up to Vox using Alastor’s magic and utterly humiliating the media demon - inadvertently turn Alastor on? You sniffed. Vanilla, Alastor smelled of warm vanilla… Your face was pink before, but now it was bright red.

This was an opportunity you were not going to let slip away. You wrapped your arm in his…

“Mikaela?” Lucifer took a step forward interrupting the moment.

Your entire body went still.

Vaggie did a double take, “Wait. Mikaela as in Mikaela Morningstar, the Archangel?”

Your arm. Velvette scratched your arm - she cut the rune Stolas drew onto your arm!

Slowly, you turned to face Lucifer - your brother. The Angel took a few steps forward, his confusion turning to hurt.

“Mikaela.” He frowned. There was so much sadness reflected in those eyes it made your throat swell with emotion.

“Lulu, I’m so sorry,” your voice broke.

“Wait, hold up.” Angel raised an arm. “When yous told me ya were a head honcho in Heaven, I just figured you were an Angel manager or some shit, but the General of God’s armies? That doesn’t make any sense. I thought Michael was a dude?”

“No,” Charlie stepped in, her face one of disbelief. She’s never technically met any of her father’s family and yet here you were all along. “Humans changed it.”

“Changed it?” Angel shook his head. “How do you fuckin’ change the fact that he is a she!?”

“Humans are patriarchal assholes,” Vaggie butted in, one arm wrapped around Charlie - whether to hold her back or comfort her, you didn’t know. Either way, the Ex-Exorcist was thoroughly irritated. “Can’t handle a woman being in a position of power, not to mention a warrior - the fucking warrior.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” Angel agreed.

“What are you doing here?” Lucifer asked. The King didn’t dare step closer. If anything, he moved in front of Charlie.

Did he think you were going to hurt her? You would never!

“Dad…” Your voice broke just by saying his name. “... sent me to Earth to take care of something. It went… wrong.”

Fuck how do you explain!?

“I couldn’t - can’t - go back.” You corrected yourself. Your eyes flit between him and Charlie. “I am not here to hurt her.” Your vision blurred with silent tears. “I would never hurt her, Lucifer.”

Your brother’s face changed, his eyes hardening. He stood at his full height, an arm held out to prevent Charlie from stepping forward or say anything.

“You can smell deceit, Lucifer.” You both could - family trait. “You know I’m not lying.”

Lucifer swallowed dryly, but he didn’t say anything. His gaze fell to his feet, the gears behind his eyes turning. He was deciding what to do about you.

“I had nowhere else to go.” You continued.

“Dad?” Charlie tested the waters.

“Don’t, Charlie,” He snapped. “Just don’t.” The Angel, unsure of how exactly to react, how to think, or how to feel about you, turned and started walking away.

Your heart broke at the sight of him walking down the street alone, abandoning you, just as you abandoned him. You took a step forward to go after him, but Charlie beat you to it.

“Dad!” She called out as she ran after him. The two of them disappeared around the corner, heading for the Hotel.

You looked to the group, but their eyes were on Alastor as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “If you’ll excuse us. I believe Mikaela and I have some catching up to do.”

Fuck.

Husk shot you a look, his eyes asking if he should say something, if he should step in - ever the protective father figure that he was. You shook your head and let Rolf shadow you away.

____________________________________________

“Are you okay?” The demon asked as you appeared in the Nothing. Pentagram City was a dot in the distance, a glowing presence on the edge of a sea of black dirt.

You wrapped your arms around your middle, attempting to metaphorically and physically keep yourself together.

Fuck, you didn’t care about how you were doing. You cared about how Lucifer was doing. The way he just walked away like that… He turned his back on you just as you did him. God, how could you live with yourself?

“Sit,” Alastor commanded, his voice oddly absent of static. He summoned a chair from the Void and forced you into it, pushing down on your shoulders.

You were numb - that was the best way to explain it. Your body and feelings were numb.

Alastor knelt before you, one hand on your knee as he attempted to catch your eye. You couldn’t help but draw a parallel to the memory you shared on the balcony after you were injured. He attempted to comfort you then just as he was now, but the difference was he held so many questions in his gaze.

No more running.

“It’s a long story,” you scoffed, still in disbelief.

Alastor’s face remained neutral, his emotions unreadable. “I have all the time in the world.”

Surprise! You get two chapters today! Go! Go! Go!

-> Link to Chapter Thirteen

Tagged Hoteliers (Let me know if you want to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @mommymilkers0526 @goyablogsstuff

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @saw1987

@mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah

@diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta

@reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto

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francixoxoxo · 3 months ago

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𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟

Cooking was a lovely kind of art.

You created, to let others consume. Your creation directly filled the bellies and hearts of the people you cared for, the love sprinkled in the form of salt or sugar into the food is always evident.

Knives were no stranger. They were double-edged, not literally but in a sense; They were a tool, a clean-cut and a bit of a chef's best friend. Now, though, you'd hardly call your newly-whetted knife a friend.

Billy heard your screaming for him through the open window above the sink, Chantilly curtains blowing in the wind and framing your horrified expression as you looked down to where he could not see. He was in the yard, getting your little garden prepared for the spring so that you could skip the dirty work and go straight into planting your vegetables.

But that heartbreaking sound coming from your parted lips had him throwing the shovel onto the dirt, wiping the sweat from his brow and running inside. "What happened, what's wrong?" His voice was dripping with anxiety as his boots thumped against the hardwood. His shirt was long-discarded, the New Mexican sun too oppressive for unnecessary fabrics, his suspenders hanging around his thighs. The buckles of them clinked against the tile as he knelt next to where you sat, back against the cabinet.

A deep cut through your wrist dripped blood onto your house dress and the floor. Tears had only just begun to fill your eyes, the surprise putting them off until now. "My hand slipped, I-- I was cuttin' the eggplant, n' I just-"

"Okay, okay, yer fine. S'all fine, baby, just--" Billy cuts you off firmly, not without a poorly concealed fear behind his voice. His azure eyes are wide and buggy with a wild thing, the nerves that your pain always seem to induce in him. He snatches the dishtowel off the countertop, pressing it to your wrist where you'd sliced the skin. The side of your wrist was bleeding through the daisy yellow dish towel until the cheery color was vermillion.

It hurt terribly as he put pressure on the cut, you whined in pain. "That hurts, you're hurting me!" He winces, a deep grimace creasing his features.

"I know, I know, but you gotta put pressure," Billy cooes, one hand clutching the opposite side of your wrist to hold it still and his other holding the towel to the wound. If he wasn't already sweating outside, this whole ordeal would make him break a sweat.

Your mouth opened and closed wordlessly from the searing pain, Billy murmuring sweet words to you as the bleeding staunched enough for him to peel the towel away a bit. His free hand is both bloody and sweaty but it comes to hold the side of your hair regardless, he pulls you in for a lingering kiss to your crown. "Yer doin' so great, baby." Billy peers with drawn brows at the cut, making sure the towel is positioned so you can't see the damage. He shakes his head. "S' not that bad."

"Swear?" You sniffle, looking up at him and meeting his azure eyes. The soft smile that crosses his features soothes the nerves spiking like needles all over.

"Swear." Billy promises. "Don't even need stitches." He tells you to hold the towel down again as he stands, rummaging through the medicine cabinet for bandages and a little bottle of carbolic acid. He remembers insisting it was unnecessary, that alcohol does the trick, but you fought him down. As always, you ended up being right.

Billy isn't no medic, but he's pretty satisfied with how he wraps you up. "I ain't gonna let my woman go 'round without some good care." He'd insisted, his seriousness making a laugh bubble from your lips. A peck to your lips couldn't shut you up, but Billy didn't mind if it was at his expense; as long as he gets to hear that beautiful sound.

"I'm sorry, this is so stupid." You huff, closing your eyes as Billy cuts the end of the bandages with his teeth. He snorts, shaking his head at you and pressing a careful kiss to the material above the cut. It's a weird kind of tickle, one that wouldn't feel pleasant if your heart wasn't tricked into fluttering by the handsome man in front of you.

"Aint ever stupid when it comes t'you."

#I'm back #billy the kid #tom blyth #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid x you #billy the kid 2022 #william h bonney x reader #billy the kid imagines #billy the kid imagine #billy the kid smut #Billy bonney #william h bonney imagine #william bonney

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nyxelestia · 2 months ago

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Kinktober, Angstober, Flufftober, Whumptober, and Inktober 2024

Collecting the five biggest promptober events' prompts in one list for people who like to mix and match between challenges.

Kinktober: This year, there is no official kinktober prompt list, but multiple lists for various fandoms and individual blogs. For this post, I am using this list from Reddit, put together by u/Random_Stuff10 using past kink lists and kink generators.

Angstober: 2024 Prompt List Tumblr Post @angstober

Flufftober: 2024 Prompt List Tumblr Post @flufftober (warning: no custom theme, so you must be logged in to Tumblr to view)

Whumptober: 2024 Prompt List Tumblr Post @whumptober

Inktober: Rules and Prompt Page

Inktober not included as it is trademarked.

Prompts Organized By Day

Day 01

Day 02

Kinktober 2. Threesome | Dehumanization | Watersports Angstober 2. Countdown Flufftober 2. “Left. Other left!” Whumptober 2. TRUST ISSUES | Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster) Inktober 2. Discover

Day 03

Day 04

Day 05

Day 06

Day 07

Day 08

Day 09

Kinktober 9. Praise Kink | Sharing | Stuck In a Wall Angstober 9. Promise Flufftober 9. “Don’t do that!” — “But…” Whumptober 9. OBSESSION | Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible) Inktober 9. Sun

Day 10

Day 11

Kinktober 11. Dirty Talk | Blow Jobs | Uniform Angstober 11. Wake Up Flufftober 11. Ingredients & Spells Whumptober 11. SEEING DOUBLE | Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs) Inktober 11. Snacks

Day 12

Day 13

Kinktober 13. Dom/Sub | Branding | Body Modification Angstober 13. Shaking Flufftober 13. Attic, Cellar, Hidden Room Whumptober 13. TEAM AS A FAMILY | Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime) Inktober 13. Horizon

Day 14

Kinktober 14. Breath Play | Evil Twin | Double penetration in one hole Angstober 14. Only Around You Flufftober 14. Fantasy AU / Mundane AU Whumptober 14. LEFT FOR DEAD | Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn) Inktober 14. Roam

Day 15

Kinktober 15. Double Penetration | Orgasm Denial | urethra penetration Angstober 15. False Hope Flufftober 15. “What are you wearing?” — “It’s laundry day!” Whumptober 15. CHILDHOOD TRAUMA | Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?" Inktober 15. Guidebook

Day 16

Day 17

Day 18

Kinktober 18. Dub-Con | Pregnancy | Cock Warming Angstober 18. Falling Stars Flufftober 18. Bewitched Whumptober 18. REVENGE | Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes) Inktober 18. Drive

Day 19

Day 20

Day 21

Day 22

Day 23

Day 24

Kinktober 24. Sensory Deprivation | Immobilized | pegging Angstober 24. Dark Sunrise Flufftober 24. Comfort Food Whumptober 24. RADIATION POISONING | Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light) Inktober 24. Expedition

Day 25

Day 26

Kinktober 26. Surrender | Forced Prostitution | Cock Rings Angstober 26. Persuasion Flufftober 26. “I can’t find it.” Whumptober 26. NIGHTMARES | Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted) Inktober 26. Camera

Day 27

Day 28

Day 29

Day 30

Day 31

Alternatives

Whumptober Alternatives

Body Swap

Communication Barrier

Finding Old Messages

Forgotten

Friendly Fire

Motion Sickness

No-Holds-Barred Beatdown

Regret

Secrets Revealed

Shivering

Survivor's Guilt

Time Loop

Used As Bait

Venom

Vermin

Flufftober Alternatives

Last Year's Favorites Alt 1: “I’ve got you” Alt 2: Rainy Day Alt 3: “Wait you love me?” - “I always have” Alt 4: “I hate it” - “No, you don’t” Alt 5: Porch Swing Challenge "Make it Fluffy!" Alt 6: Gravestone Alt 7: Getting Revenge Alt 8: Written but never sent Alt 9: Suddenly Severed Communication Alt 10: Rejected, Betrayed, Exiled, Left Behind

#kinktober #angstober #flufftober #whumptober #inktober #kinktober 2024 #kinktober prompts

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daboyau · 7 months ago

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Chapter ten of the Rise Hunger Games AU! Remember when I said this would be about six chapters total? Boy, was I wrong! We’re at double digits now, and not even into the meat of the Games yet. Hope you enjoy the calm while it lasts!

prev/

Here, have the tag list. Fingers crossed it actually works this time!

@boots-with-the-fur-club @qwerty-keyboard-is-superior @theonlybrightowl @dandywonderous @dandylovesturtles @elijah-doodle @fredquinn @sady-is-secretly-an-alchemist @heckitall @beannary @brightandfullofglory @purplepixel @pomelined @imagionationstation @daughterofskylark @eb177 @lilysplash @midwesternvibes @burritello3000 @justchillininthebackground-06 @snowleopardtherebel @kiaxet

Knives have never been Donnie’s preferred weapon. He can appreciate the versatility of them, and how easy they are to carry or conceal, but he has never particularly enjoyed how close one has to be to use them effectively. It’s messy. Plus, contrary to popular belief, they aren’t really all that efficient at killing a human being unless the wielder knows exactly the right place to stab or slash, and has very good aim.

If he had the choice to pick any weapon, he’d go for a gun. He’s often eyed the Peacekeeper’s weapons, wishing he could get his hands on them, if only to take them apart. He wants to learn all their weaknesses, and figure out how to make his own better version. There’s a reason that precious few of the Districts have ever tried to fight back against them, despite having significantly more numbers.

Unfortunately, guns have never been an option during the Hunger Games in the past, and he suspects that won’t be changing this year. Luckily for him, papa has ensured that he does indeed have all the necessary knowledge to use a knife, as well as a number of other weapons.

He adjusts his grip around the hilt and strikes out at the training simulation, a quick slash to its holographic throat causing it to crumble to pixelated dust. Another quick hard jab, and the next has joined its pixelated brethren in the great technological beyond. He whirls at a soft click behind him — the telltale indicator that there was another digital opponent spawning, he had surmised early on — and a backhanded stab to the throat has the indistinct figure dissipating before it has the chance to fully form.

The room slowly begins to brighten as the simulation ends, and Donnie steps off the platform. His breathing is a little harsher than he usually allows during training, and the uncomfortable stickiness of sweat has the back of his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his skin. He shudders at the feeling. His back still feels strange after Draxum had poked at it the night before. The phantom sensation of pins and needles linger despite the exo-spine having no real nerve endings to speak of. Worse, if he moves too fast or bends too far, he can feel his legs tingle and he begins to lose sensation in his toes.

“The worst of those side effects should only last about 12 hours,” Draxum had told him dismissively, when Donnie had informed him of what he was feeling. Apparently, with his growth the last 14 years, the device had to be recalibrated to ensure it would continue functioning as intended. It had made him feel vulnerable and sick, forced to sit on the edge of the bed as Draxum fiddled with the most vulnerable part of him and his legs had suddenly stopped being able to hold his weight. The lingering sensation of fingers against his skin and the electric pain of tools inside his exo-spine had kept him up throughout most of the night, long after Draxum had left and Donnie had kicked his papa out to retire to his own room, not wanting to upset him with having to watch as Donnie rode out the after affects of having something integrated with his nervous system messed with. Yoshi had reluctantly given in, leaving Donnie gritting his teeth and hissing with each new spark of pain or each terrifying loss of sensation and control over his own body alone. It was the first time he actually felt glad that he wasn’t sharing a bedroom with his twin; the last thing he wanted was Leo (or anyone else) worrying about him.

He doesn’t trust that the man hadn’t done something; sabotaged him in some way, or installed some feature that would come back to bite him later. The fact that he couldn’t effectively examine his own back for signs of tampering just made it all the worse. If he could only take a look at it, then he might at least be able to soothe the anxious pounding of his heart that threatened to overwhelm him whenever he spent too long thinking about how dangerous it was to allow anyone he doesn’t trust implicitly to have access to his back. If it needed any cleaning or maintenance at home, he’d usually instruct Leo or April on how to do it, while Mikey or Raph held up mirrors at various angles so he could keep a close eye on the proceedings. Not an option now, but maybe he can have papa hold a mirror, at least.

After returning the knife to one of the weapons racks, he sighs and slinks over to grab a sealed bottle of water off the little table of refreshments that had been set up in a corner of the massive gymnasium. The other tributes are scattered throughout the space, a handful of them looking determined while most of the others just look lost. Donnie was one of the few to find a weapon and get to work immediately, and he knows that that decision means that there will be eyes on him now. That fact could work against him, painting a target on his back, or it could help him to form potential alliances if he chooses to go that route. It’s hard to say, since past games can’t offer conclusive data considering the participants — and therefore line up of personalities and group dynamics — change each year.

Not like he is any better, of course. He’d made sure to note which of his fellow tributes had moved with confidence and which had hung back or hesitated, just the same as all the rest of them. He knows better than to discount any of the more hesitant ones, though. A smart strategist might put on a front to keep attention off of themselves. That would have been what Leo would do in his place, he was sure. After all, Donnie is also holding back.

“You were really good in there,” a voice says from right beside him, and Donnie chokes on his water. Apparently, being attentive while lost in thought is a skill he’ll need to work on.

The girl standing beside him is young, maybe 14 or 15. She stares up at him with wide green eyes when he turns to face her, like she’s expecting a response. Donnie clears his throat and casts a quick glance around them and then towards the other tributes, hoping to find that she was talking to someone else. No luck there. He looks her over, taking in the blonde hair and round freckled cheeks, trying to remember which District she belongs to, before it clicks.

“Ah, you’re from Eleven, right? The…sexy corn girl?”

She stares up at him, mouth popped into a little ‘o’ of surprise, and he’s pretty sure that means he said the wrong thing. He looks away, focusing on the other tributes once more. He has just enough time to think at least if I’ve offended her she’ll leave me alone, before he hears a little snort beside him, and when he looks towards her once again he’s surprised to see her smiling.

“It was really bad, right? The stylists for my District were awful this year.”

“They were,” he agrees easily, still confused as to why she’s talking to him. She nods and hums, and she hasn’t stopped staring at him. There are bags beneath her eyes; evidence of how the last few days and the impending Games have been weighing on her. He imagines he must look just as tired and beaten down.

“I heard about how you helped the District Three kids,” she says. “It was kind of you to do that.”

He almost doesn’t realize what she’s referring to, staring at her blankly before it finally clicks. He snorts derisively and waves the words off. He wishes she would stop smiling at him.

“It was easy to fix, the stylists were just idiots,” he mutters, taking another swallow of his water. He hears her giggle.

“Yeah, it seems like there was a lot of that going around this year.”

He hums his agreement, and takes a half step further away from her. He’s nearly ready to get back to his half hearted training montage, but he’s not sure where to focus his energy next. He’s been eying the survivalist area of the training grounds, but one of the other boys has been hogging it for nearly an hour. He’s not really interested in sharing right now, or in socializing with other tributes.

Speaking of which.

“Bye,” he says dryly to the girl as he drops his empty water bottle back onto the table and turns to leave.

“Wait! I wanted to ask you something.”

He probably shouldn’t bother, but he is curious. He turns back, eyes narrowed and arms crossed as he waits impatiently for her to finish her thought. She won’t look him in the eye, but after a beat, she finally gets herself together enough to blurt out, “Can you teach me how to use a knife?”

He stares at her for a long time, trying to figure out if she’s joking or not. It’s in poor taste, if she is. She stares back with those wide green eyes, hands clasped together as she rocks on the balls of her feet. He squints.

“You’re serious.”

“Yeah! I’ve never had to use one to fight before.”

“Ask one of them,” he tells her dryly, gesturing vaguely to the Capitol-provided trainers. She makes a face he doesn’t know how to read, then shakes her head quickly.

“I already tried that! They’re just interested in the Careers. The guy that was showing me kept getting distracted the whole time!”

“Right…but consider this; Why would I teach you to use something that you could then turn around and kill me with in four days?”

“Because I won’t be able to learn enough to be at that skill level from just a lesson or two, but it might be enough to keep me from dying immediately?” she tries, grinning sheepishly. Donnie frowns and his eyes wander back towards the survivalist center. Still occupied. She clears her throat. “And also, what if I promise not to fight you in the arena?”

“What, like an alliance?” He can’t help the way his voice drips with disdain at the word as his gaze slowly move back to look at her. He’s watched enough games to know exactly how well alliances tend to go. There can only be one survivor, after all.

It’s difficult to meet her eyes, but the long strands of her hair sway when she shakes her head. Her voice comes out soft as she says, “No, nothing like that. More like a promise, I guess? I won’t kill you. You won’t kill me. We won’t have to help each other outside of that.”

The words almost make him smile. Silly things like promises will never survive the Hunger Games, but it’s a nice thought. Probably something Raph or Mikey would take her up on. His heart does a painful little twist in his chest, and the tips of his fingers tingle. He swallows, hard, and then sighs.

Well, not like he has anything better to do, right? The only thing he’s interested in working on at the moment is still being hogged. And papa did always say teaching others was the most effective way of honing your own skills.

“Go find a knife that feels comfortable in your hands, then come find me,” he says by way of answering, and the girl makes a small, excited noise and hurries off to do as he’s asked. Donnie watches her go with a scowl on his face, already knowing that he’s going to regret this. Raph is going to be so disappointed in him if he dies because he spent his training days helping other tributes instead of focusing on himself. But it’s not like there’s much here that he can learn from anyways…he hopes.

He sighs and scrubs his hands over his face, then pulls them back quickly when the smell of sweat and whatever oil is used to maintain the knife he’d been practicing with hits him. Looking around to see if he can find somewhere to wash his hands, his mind drifts back towards Draxum once again and his eyes wander towards the cameras tucked away in the corners. The elevated balcony where the Capitol politicians and Gamemakers will sit is unoccupied for now, but he wonders whether Draxum or any of the others are watching them.

I made it, Draxum had said, his fingers never stilling in their methodical examination. He had seemed to catch the way Donnie had gone stiff with surprise at those words, and he had felt more than heard the soft huff of amusement against the bare skin of his back. Goosebumps had prickled uncomfortably over his flesh.

“I was not expecting that,” he muttered, eyes staring stubbornly towards the blank expanse of wall. Draxum twisted something that made a jolt of pain light up his nerve endings, and it was only force of will that kept him from crying out.

“No, I suppose not. It would be too much to expect Lou to have ever told you the truth.”

“Lou?”

“Your father.”

“My father’s name isn’t—“

“Yes, yes, he prefers to be called Yoshi now. I’ve heard.”

Donnie had frowned at that, irritation at the dismissal of his papa fanning the smoldering embers of barely repressed rage in his chest. At his side, his fingers kept twitching and jerking without his input. A cold sweat had broken out on his brow, and it was only the trepidation at how vulnerable he was at that moment that kept his mouth shut and his hands at his sides. He wished that his papa could be in the room with him. Some support would have been nice.

“Is this one okay?” A voice asks, and Donnie is proud of the fact that he doesn’t startle at the sudden interruption. He accepts the knife the District 11 girl is holding out to him without looking at her. It’s well balanced, and the blade is dulled so that tributes won’t accidentally (or intentionally) injure themselves during training. Its hilt feels small in his hand, but it should fit her fine.

Are tributes this small every year, or is it just a bad haul this time around? He tries to remember, but they always seemed so distant on the holoscreen. It’s usually easier not to think about the little ones. They never last long enough to leave an impression once they enter the Arena.

“This’ll work,” he says, flipping the knife and handing the dull blade back hilt-first. She accepts it with a shaky little smile he doesn’t want to look at. “Follow me.”

He leads her to a small outcropping of fake, plastic trees. They’re intended to be used to practice climbing and camouflage, but they provide enough cover that hopefully he can do this one lesson without drawing attention from the other tributes. Though he doesn’t plan on saying anything to her about it, there’s a good chance that if the others believe the two of them are planning on working together, she’ll end up with a target on her back.

He circles her with a critical eye, adjusting her stance and the way she grips the knife. Her nails are painted, pink and sparkly, reflecting the dim glow of the buzzing overhead lights. Her knuckles have gone white from how tightly she’s holding it, so Donnie taps the backs of her fingers until she takes a deep breath and loosens her grip. Then, he takes a few steps back and gets into a familiar beginning stance.

“Come at me like you’re planning to attack me,” he tells her, and can’t help but smirk a little at the shock that flits across her face. “You won’t hurt me, but it will be a good chance to see where you’re at.”

She chews her bottom lip as he speaks, then slowly nods. “If you’re sure….”

“Oh, worry not. I’m quite sure you won’t be able to get a single hit in.”

Unfortunately for her chances of survival, he’s correct.

Donnie waits until the clock in the corner of the holoscreen reads midnight before he gives up on trying to sleep. Hours of tossing and turning in the too-soft bed are just wasted effort and lost time, and he’s finally settled enough that the idea of food doesn’t make him want to vomit. Might as well get a snack while he still has the chance. He’s sure food will be scarce inside the Arena.

He moves with silent steps, listening carefully, almost hoping that he’ll find Kendra waiting in the kitchen again. He hadn’t seen her during the training session earlier, and she had avoided his gaze during the tense dinner hour.

Much to his displeasure, he had realized about halfway through the meal that he did, in fact, miss what little scraps of camaraderie they’ve found with one another over the last few days. As prickly and generally unpleasant as she is, at least Kendra’s simmering fury at their situation feels familiar. It’s preferable to Atomo’s overly eager cheer or his papa’s barely masked sorrow. At least they don’t have to pretend as much when it’s just the two of them.

Donnie sighs, shoulders slumping, when he finds the kitchen dark and empty. The light from the refrigerator feels blinding when he swings it open, and the soft suction of the seal giving way seems unspeakably loud in the sound proofed silence of the large apartment. He knows he’s allowed the freedom to wonder the cage-slash-living-quarters, and that there are more than likely already eyes watching him through the glass lenses of the cameras positioned all around the apartment, but it still feels like he’s doing something wrong by being out of his bedroom so late at night. He’s gotten used to never being left alone. It’s not a pleasant realization.

He hurries to find something palatable, settling on fruit and some plain crackers he scavenges from the cabinets. He hesitates only a second before he shrugs and decides to bring the snacks to his bedroom. After all, what will it matter to him if the apartment gets ants or he stains the fancy sheets? It’s not like it will matter; just a few short days, and he’ll be either dead or the lone survivor of 24 children. They can put him - or his body - in a different room if this one is still dirty by then. He’s not going to be in any state to care either way.

The slick tile floor melts away to plush carpet as he pads through the living room and back towards the hall lined with their rooms. He pauses briefly outside the first door, hands tightening around the edges of the plate in his hands. The ceramic makes a sound that has him cringing as his nails scrape over its surface, and he wonders if his father might finally deign to look his way if he makes an offering of food. It’s not cake, but maybe….

Donnie takes a step closer and does his best to swallow down his jittering nerves. It’s not like he’s never had to find ways to get his father’s attention before, but it feels much worse to have to fight for his affection when they may have one another for only a few more days. Plus, he doesn’t even have April or his brothers here to compete with. Shouldn’t it be easier now?

His hand pauses just inches from the intricate metal plated carving that decorates the door. He frowns, and leans a little closer, ear pressed to the cold metal. He heard his papa’s voice, but who…?

For one horrible, disgusting, disappointing (but not surprising) moment, Donnie thinks it must be Atomo in there with his father. He leans back slightly, ready to turn tail and bolt, when the female voice speaks again and—

It’s Kendra. Somehow, that is both infinitely worse and also far more suspicious. He braces himself and leans close again, but though he can hear the muffled voices, he can’t make out what they’re saying. It just sounds like droning, low and secretive, rising and falling like the tide as Kendra’s anger ebbs and flows and his father fights to get a word in.

Donnie’s throat feels tight. Suddenly, he’s not that hungry anymore. He leaves the plate of food on the little hall table he hasn’t figured out the actual function of yet and retreats to his own room, trying not to let the sting of betrayal cut too deep.

#Rottmnt #the hunger games #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise hunger games au #rottmnt donnie

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lanawinterscigarettes · 3 months ago

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Kinktober 2024 info post/prompt list

hey guys! I decided to open up my askbox for kinktober this year. these are a few prompts I decided to collect and put into one post that way it'll be easier for my followers to find and so they'll know which ones I'll feel comfortable with writing. if you're another writer feel free to reblog or use any of the prompts on this list if you want to <3

note: I won't have any set days or characters this year, it's more of a first come first serve sort of thing. I recommend sending in your ask for kinktober earlier this month that way I can make sure it gets finished and posted in time. check my character list* to see who I write for, and feel free to ask any questions if you have them <3

*(speaking of my character list, I may or may not add a few new fandoms to the list within the next coming weeks, so make sure you keep an eye on that)

hand kink

breath play/choking

blood play/kink

biting/marking kink

dry humping/grinding/clothed sex

free use kink

oral fixation

mirror sex

edging/overstimulation

public sex

roleplay

thigh riding

dirty talk

impact play/spanking/slapping/etc

boot worship

sexting/phone sex

pegging

cockwarming

make-up sex

praise kink

degrading/humiliation kink

bondage/restraints

somnophilia

knife/gun play

striptease

double penetration

mutual masturbation

morning/sleepy sex

striptease

wet dream

against a wall

voyeurism/exhibitionism

pet play

collaring/ownership kink

cum play

dacryphilia

feederism (feeding kink)

sex toys

hair pulling

breeding kink

wax play

sex pollen/aphrodisiac

begging

corruption kink

fingering

facial

prostitution/sex work

car sex

thighfucking/tittyfucking

oral sex (including facefucking/facesitting)

lingerie

uniform kink

anal sex

threesome/foursome/moresome

caught in the act

medical kink

being recorded

aftercare

a few more things:

these are just some general ideas for prompts that you can send in. you can request as many times as you like but please try not to send in more than two or three prompts with one character at a time

I'll do my best to keep the reader completely gender neutral when I can, but when I can't they'll most likely be afab unless requested or otherwise specified. I feel the most comfortable writing afab readers in general, especially transmasc readers as I'm transmasc myself, but that doesn't mean I won't write amab readers because I absolutely will

please be specific when requesting! especially in terms of which character, the reader's gender, and who's on the receiving end of the kink (for example, jennifer check marking up a fem reader). the less specific you are, the more likely I am to take artistic liberties with my writing. some people are okay with that, and some aren't, so that's just a heads up beforehand

requests can be sent in whenever you want from now until the end of october, but again keep in mind the earlier you send it in the sooner it'll be written/get done and the more likely it is to get posted quicker once the month of kinktober officially starts

Kinktober 2024 masterlist to be posted on September 30th <3

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iwaoiness · 2 months ago

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Hajime closes the door behind him with more force than he intends as he finally steps into his room, spacious and meticulously organized. He drags his feet toward the navy-blue sofa at the foot of his king-size bed and collapses onto it with a sigh, crossing his legs. His gaze shifts to the small table beside him, where a pack of cigarettes sits next to a bottle of whiskey and a glass of ice. Too cliché, even for a yakuza like him.

He stretches his arm and grabs the pack of cigarettes, pulling one out and placing it between his lips. But just as he’s about to look for a lighter, there’s a knock at his door. Through the heavy fabric, the subtle shadow of a figure appears, one Iwaizumi could recognize even with his eyes closed.

“Come in,” he replies, voice low, the cigarette resting between his lips.

There’s only one person who would knock at his door—someone who holds the privilege of stepping into the lion’s den unarmed, with nothing but those lethal eyes, thick like honey.

Tooru enters, closing the door slowly behind him before leaning against it, hands behind his back, a crooked smile painted on his sharp, angular face. His brown hair is slightly tousled, his plump lips glisten with his favorite peach-flavored lip balm, and his tall, muscular frame is wrapped in a tight shirt tucked into dark cargo pants that fit perfectly where they should. Around his right thigh, his knife holster is strapped, and he’s barefoot, wearing one of his ridiculous pairs of colorful socks.

Hajime doesn’t know where Tooru has hidden his military boots this time, but he hopes he hasn't sneaked into his fucking soybean field again to hide them there.

“Welcome back, Iwa-chan,” Tooru sings in that creamy, sweet voice of his—a double-edged sword capable of clouding Iwaizumi’s mind when he isn’t careful.

Iwaizumi watches him approach, with that false innocence—so tempting, so cunning, so damn hot.

“Where were you?” His frown deepens, and he tilts his chin up as Tooru stops in front of him, hands still clasped behind his back.

“Did you miss me?” Tooru tilts his head slightly, stretching his smile. Dangerous, lethal, and his. Only his. Iwaizumi doesn’t answer, just continues staring into his eyes, getting lost once again in that sickeningly sweet sea that could swallow the entire universe. “I went to get a lighter.” Tooru finally shows his hands, one of them holding a black lighter.

Hajime exhales through his nose, settling deeper into the sofa, spreading his arms across the backrest and uncrossing his legs. His heavy gaze never leaves Tooru’s.

“Come here.”

Tooru’s eyes gleam for a moment before he closes the distance, sitting in Hajime’s lap. Iwaizumi relaxes under his weight. The cigarette remains in his mouth as Tooru flicks the lighter, momentarily watching the flame before bringing it to the cigarette’s tip. The fire catches, the paper slowly burns, and Iwaizumi narrows his eyes, taking a drag before exhaling the smoke skilfully through his nose and mouth, filling the room with its intoxicating scent.

Tooru wrinkles his nose slightly, waving his hand to disperse some of the smoke.

“Iugh, Iwa-chan. I hate the smoke, you know that” he whines, leaning closer as he carefully pulls the cancerous stick from Hajime’s mouth after his third drag, placing it in the ashtray on the table.

This time, Hajime turns his head, exhaling the thick smoke to the side.

“You hated me too, once, and look at you now.”

Tooru then feels Iwaizumi’s right hand settle on his waist, gripping it firmly while the other moves to his back, his calloused fingers tugging his shirt loose from his pants before slipping underneath. Tooru shivers slightly, biting his lip to stifle a gasp as those warm fingers trace the line of his spine with a deliberate, hungry slowness.

“I’m not wrong, am I?” Hajime’s voice is a low, gravelly whisper, his breath so close to Tooru’s lips that they tingle with anticipation. He watches as Tooru’s eyes darken with pleasure, his ears flush red, and his lips curl into a playful smile.

“I wouldn’t conjugate that verb in past tense just yet, Iwa-chan,” Tooru quips mischievously, but the teasing quickly dissolves into a moan as his nails dig into Hajime’s shoulders when Iwaizumi’s teeth sink into his neck. Tooru tilts his head to the side, giving him more skin to explore. “Don’t leave such big marks this time, you fucking brute,” Tooru gasps, and Hajime bites down harder just to mess with him, his big hand gripping his waist tighter, pulling him closer. Their hips grind together, showing just how desperate Hajime is to explore every inch of Tooru, to map out every curve of that paradise he calls a body. “Hajime...” Tooru whimpers his name near his ear, perhaps intentionally or not, and Aoba’s leader continues his journey, licking and biting his way along Tooru’s neck, pressing soft kisses to the vein pulsing in sync with his frantic heartbeat.

“What do you want, my pretty boy?” Hajime whispers against his skin, his hand sliding from Tooru’s waist to his thick right thigh, delicately taking the weapon strapped there. He pulls the sharp, dangerous blade from its sheath, trailing the cold edge down Tooru’s bare back, applying just enough pressure to make the taller man shudder. “Tell me,” he coaxes, as the knife now reaches the hem of the raised shirt, the tip cutting through the fabric without ever touching Tooru’s skin. “You know I’ll give you anything, babe.” The sound of tearing fabric mixes with Tooru’s low moan. Hajime swallows, trying to keep his voice steady as Tooru grinds against his hardness, both of them too eager. “I’ll give you everything they never could, because they’ll never be worthy of you like I am.”

That’s when Tooru cups Hajime’s face in his long, bony fingers, forcing him to stop in his tracks. Hajime’s dilated pupils meet his, both filled with raw excitement, his eyes gleaming as if they had captured the sun itself.

“I want everything from you. Now.” Tooru murmurs, demanding and spoiled as always, and Hajime, always devoted, always obedient, dives in to kiss him hungrily. The knife clattering to the floor, Hajime ripping the rest of the purple shirt apart with his own hands.

...

i need more and more iwaoi yakuza au

complete chapter here!! 🍉

#iwaoi #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #haikyuu!!#oikawa x iwaizumi #haikyuu #hajime iwaizumi #iwaoi drabble #yakuza iwaizumi #iwaoi yakuza au #mafia au #iwaoi mafia au #yakuza oikawa #touching #smoker iwaizumi #oikawa is a brat #possessive iwaizumi #iwaoi fic #body worship

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luxyue · 4 months ago

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knife boots — part v.

xiao x reader, figure skating au

masterlist | previous | next

➥ NEW VOCAB ❝ flip ❞ a toe jump, taking off from a back inside edge

v. double-edged blade

Green.

Gold.

Where am I?

“You’re in the infirmary… I called Zhongli, he should be here soon—what do you think you’re doing?”

You waste no time jumping out of the bed (did he carry you all the way here?), heading toward the open door.

But luck is not on your side. In one swift motion, he manages to slam the door shut and barricades the exit by standing right in front of you (sheesh, is it just me or is it getting hot in here?).

“Let me go,” you say.

“No.”

You let out a heavy sigh. Of course, you understand that he’s just concerned for you, but right now, your only desire is to leave this place and run far, far away.

“Please?” you try.

“You’re clearly not okay, Y/N. I can’t let you just leave like this,” he says, brushing his hand through his hair in frustration. He clearly feels bad about not letting you go… but he’s just worried. About you.

“Okay, then… come with me.”

“…What?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “If you can’t let me leave alone, leave with me instead.”

Xiao’s eyes widen at your proposal. “To where?”

“Um… honestly, I don’t know. But please, can we just get out of here?” you plea, hoping that he’ll take pity on you and let you go.

“If… if I go with you, will you tell me about whatever’s been bothering you lately?” he asks unsteadily. He clearly doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable by crossing your boundaries, but he can’t help but wonder. Just what could rattle you so hard like that?

You freeze suddenly, eyes widening at his words. Are you even ready to talk about it?

You do trust Xiao. A lot, you realize. If there’s anyone you would tell… it would be him. But you also know that your mutual respect only went so far. Despite spending most of your days with him lately, you’ve never talked about your personal lives, keeping steady boundaries. You were honestly surprised that he had even bothered to ask you about this.

“I… if I promise to tell you about it, will you let me leave?” you decide, praying to the archons that you won’t regret your choice.

Glancing down at you one last time, he finally nods. “…Alright then. Let’s go.”

…

“Where, exactly, are we going?” he wonders out loud.

You simply shrug. “Honestly, I haven’t been around much since I moved here.”

He turns to look at you, confusion written on his face. “It’s been a few months, hasn’t it?”

You scoff, giving him a dirty look. “You try having the world champion breathing down your neck during training every day. It’s kind of hard to function when I get home, let alone have a life outside of skating.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “I have to train a world champion every day—unpaid by the way—in addition to my own practice. How am I supposed to have a life?”

“You… that doesn’t even count. You actually deserve the title.”

The look he gives you is questioning. “Is this about what I said when we first met? If it is, I told you, I really didn’t mean any of that—”

“No, no… I don’t mean that. I promise I’ll explain soon. Just, back to the topic at hand, okay? Know any good places to eat? Or places to talk privately?” you say, avoiding his gaze.

He gives you an odd look before dropping the subject, pausing to think for a moment. “We won’t really be able to go anywhere without being photographed,” he reminds you.

You mentally slap yourself, embarrassed that you had forgotten about just how famous Xiao was in Liyue. He was like a walking paparazzi magnet, and it was honestly scary sometimes. Plus, if you were seen with him… well, his fans might not be too happy about that.

“Okay, then what do you suggest?”

“We could, um,” he coughs.

“What?”

“We could, uh, grab food really quickly and… go back to my place?” he stammers.

Was he being serious? You blink at him, slightly wondering if this was just a dream that you would wake up from in a matter of seconds.

…Nope. You’re still here. Surprisingly. But in what world would Xiao invite you over to his house?

His face goes awfully red as you struggle to formulate a response. “You don’t have to, I was just thinking, since you probably don’t want anybody listening in, so I just thought—”

“That would be perfect,” you say, stopping the train of worry in his head.

…

Two boba teas, a large box of rice balls, and a dessert that looked akin to tofu (which Xiao was surprisingly insistent on buying) later, you two finally ended up at his apartment.

It was actually a long drive. Xiao lived further from the rink than you had expected, although that made sense considering how much he valued his privacy. His apartment complex could pass for newly built, and the area was serene and peaceful.

Inside, however, all you could say was that the home was very… him. Sleek, dark, and modern, the design was truly exquisite.

But it was also bare. No personal touches. No picture frames, art pieces…

“Please tell me you have a medal wall, at least,” you say, or rather, hope. Xiao has multiple medals from just about every major international competition there is, and, well, you would probably give anything to see all of them.

“I do, actually. In here,” he motions for you to follow him through a doorway.

Oh… oh. Wow. In front of you is a display room that could honestly pass for a tiny museum.

Bronze, silver, and absolutely no shortage of gold hang neatly arranged on the walls. You see medals from domestic competitions, like nationals—then even more from the Grand Prix series, Grand Prix Final, and Worlds.

And then there are photos. So many photos, starting from when Xiao was a young boy, all the way up to his latest competition. You notice Zhongli is in most of them.

“Who are they?” you ask, pointing to one photo in particular, where Xiao looked… really happy. He couldn’t have been more than ten years old in it, and he was posing with a group of four others in the same rink you currently train in every day.

He glances over to see which one you were talking about, before looking away sadly. “They’re old friends… who have since stopped skating.”

There’s a pang in your chest; you know exactly what he feels. As the years went on, more and more of the skaters you grew up with had quit, leaving you behind. It was easy to get lonely as long days of training blurred together.

Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you try to shift the topic back to what you originally came here for.

“So, I promised you an explanation.”

…

Once you’re both settled on his couch, boba in one hand, rice ball in the other, you begin your story.

“Well… let’s see, everyone knows I started out with Raiden Ei and skated for Inazuma, but that was way back when I was a novice skater and didn’t compete internationally. During this time… I was approached by someone who had also switched from Inazuma to Snezhnaya…”

Xiao scowls. “I know who you’re referring to.”

You nod in response. “He goes by Scaramouche nowadays. I don’t really know what he’s up to now, but I knew he was good back then. He told me to train with the Harbingers for the summer at first, just to see if I liked it. So, I did. I saw the results they were producing, and thought that, well, if I wanted to become the best of the best, I would need to make the switch.”

You pause, recollecting your thoughts.

“We don’t have to continue. If you aren’t up for it.” His voice breaks your train of thought.

“No… I want to tell you, actually,” you say, surprising even yourself. “I haven’t told anyone about this, not fully. Even Zhongli doesn’t know the full story.”

At this, Xiao reaches over, slowly intertwining his hand with yours, and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Okay,” he says softly.

Trying your best (but failing) to not get flustered, you clear your throat before continuing. “This is when things started going downhill. They told… they told me that, if I ever wanted to amount to anything, I would need to represent Snezhnaya,” you laugh. “It’s funny, now I know that it was just complete bullshit, you know? But I believed it at the time. And look where it got me.”

You’re tearing up now. Xiao is unsure of what to do, but he squeezes your hand, tighter this time. “You’re right—I’m guessing they saw your talent and knew they needed you more than you needed them. But trust me, you’ll do just as well without the Harbingers.”

Sniffling, you say, “That… means a lot to me, especially coming from you. Thank you.”

“Anyway, that’s when…” you trail off, struggling to find the right words to convey your thoughts.

That’s when it all comes crashing down, and you start sobbing uncontrollably.

Through your tears, you manage to get out the words, “Xiao, I’m so sorry—please don’t think of me any differently, I really didn’t want to do it, I didn’t want to do any of it, they forced me—”

In an instant, he pulls you towards his chest, holding you close, but gently, as though you were made of glass. Murmuring into your ear, he says, “I don’t know what happened, but I… I promise. You’ll be okay. You’re safe here.”

His words still manage to make your heart skip a beat, even when you’re this distraught. Even so, that doesn’t stop your hyperventilating, nor the tears streaming down your face.

“They… they made me take… Xiao…”

“Take what, Y/N?”

“They—they forced me to dope, they forced everyone there to dope, I’m so, so sorry for lying to you, that’s why I said I didn’t deserve the title, I didn’t deserve anything—I cheated. I cheated my way through every major competition I had ever won but you have to believe me, I never, ever wanted anything to do with it—”

You stop, because he… let go. He let go of you. He wasn’t holding you anymore. No… no, no, no…

“Y/N…” is all he says, and your heart breaks right there and then because never before have you seen Xiao look so hurt.

#figure skating au #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #xiao genshin #xiao x reader #genshin #figure skating #zhongli #fanfic #x reader #scaramouche #tartaglia #fatui harbingers #fanfiction #alternate universe #modern au

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angel-gf · 9 months ago

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Kinks

So like most people voted for me to post my kinks (really exposing myself here tbh) warning it’s long.

Scaling 1-5 of how much I like them- but like I like all of them. All from a submissive standpoint

- Abrasions 3

- Anal Play 3 (haven’t tried it really)

- Pet Play 4

- Asphyxiation/ Breath play 5

- Bathroom control 3

- Bitting 5

- All levels of beating 5

- All levels of bondage 5

- Branding&Marking 5

- Cages/cells/rooms 4

- Breast torture 4

-fauxsect - 4

- Slapping 5

- Punching 3-4 depends on where it is

- Kicking 3

- Stepping 5

- Voice restriction 5 with limits

- Having clothes chosen 5

- Cock & pussy worship 5

- Worship 5

- Religious kink 5

- Age Play 4

- Collars 5

- Overstimulation 5

- Edging 4?

- Cutting 4

- Knife play 4

- Blood kink 5

- Toys (dildos,vib ect) 4

- Fear play 5

- Kidnapping 5

- Daddy/mommy kink 5

- R@pe play 5

- Teasing/taunting 5

- Humiliation 5

- Dumbification 5

- Medical kink 2

- Eye contact restriction 5

- Excersies forced/required 3

- Exhibitionism (before friends) 5

- Exhibitionism (before strangers) 3

- Face slapping 5

- Fantasy gang r@pe 5

-fauxsympathy 5

- Threesums 5

- Fire play 4

- Having rules/ things to follow 5

- Forced masturbation 5

- Forced nudity 5

- Gags 5

- Piss play 3

- Hair pulling 5

- General roughness (grabbing jaw wrists ect in sexual and non sexual things) 5!! 6

- Temperature play 3

- Dollification 4 w limits

- Name change 3?

- Pain 5

- Orgasm control 5

- Orgasm denial 5

- Outdoor scenes 5

- Drowning 4

- Personality mod 2

- Vomit (only in one very specific case!) 1

- Being shared 4

- Sensory deprivation 3

- Sleep deprivation 2

- Gun play 5

- Death threat 3

- Spanking 4

- Cum play (cover me in it, swallow ect ect) 5

- Somnophila 5

- Dacryphila 5!

- Begging 5

- Domestication/house wife/ trophy wife 5

- Breeding 5

- Impregnation 5

- Misogyny 4 (when done right)

- Gaslighting/manipulation ect 5

- Degradation 5

- Praise 5

- Teaching/“guiding” 5

- Free use 3

- Leaving marks, bruises, bites ect.. 5!!

- Intox kink 5

- Size kink 5

- Corruption kink 5

- Spitting 5

- Cock warming 5

- Double penetration (dvp & normal) 3

- Face fucking 5

- Photos/video 5

- Primal/prey play 3

- Thigh riding 5

- Boot riding 5

- Financially domination 5

- Dependency 5

- Voice kink 4

- Power imbalance 5

- Possessiveness (is this a kink? It should be) 5

- Mask kink 3

- Stalking 3

- Oral fixation 5

- Abuse kink 5

- Trauma kink 4

Names I like to be called

“Softer ones” : angel, pretty girl, pup, puppy, bunny, princess, baby, sweetheart, kid, doll, babydoll, good girl, yours,

( talk to me normally before you use any rougher one pls & thanks)

“Rougher ones”: slut, whore, toy, fucktoy, rapetoy, cocksleeve, cum dump, fleshlight, fuckdoll, stupid, dummy, bitch, r@pebait, mutt

Then ofc adding dumb, pathetic, silly, desperate, useless, worthless, disgusting, good, pretty, little, to anyy of them

#angelgf #dacryphilia #abuse k1nk #dumbification #sadism.#petpl4y #breathplay #bite marks #masochistic #fauxc3st #degrading k1nk #humiliation kink #literally can’t find tags for all of this haha #dark kinks #r4p3play #angelskinks

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 months ago

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Kinktober 2024

Dear friends, the time has come...(but I'm tired and I'll have to ponder this later lol)

I'll be using the @tolkienpinupcalendar Kinktober-List, combined with this list by @cilil...

To protect your sensible eyes, the prompts are under the cut! (Requests are welcome)

White Chocolate 🔥

Cuddling (Body worship/feminisation) - Nerdanel x Fëanor

Making out (Courtesan/Stripper, Rare pair) Eönwë x Gothmog

Virgin (Virginity/purity kink & roleplay/CNC) Caranthir x Turgon

Handjobs (Knife/sword/gun play & hand/glove kink) Annatar x Celebrimbor for @bellejolras

Clothed Sex (Clothed sex & masturbation) Celebrían x Nerdanel for @maglor-my-beloved

Aftercare (Pet play & breeding kink) T4T Aredhel x Celegorm

Cockwarming (Sensory deprivation (blindfolds etc) & cock warming) Haleth x Caranthir

Lapdance (Daddy/mommy & voice kink) Eärwen x Finarfin for @between-thepages

Dirty Talk (Humiliation/degradation & bondage/shibari/suspension) Daeron x Maglor

Car/Cart sex (Getting caught & fingering) - Erestor x Glorfindel for @sortumavaara

Milk Chocolate🔥🔥

11. Bondage (Feather play & torture) Beleg x Mablung for @thegreatstrongbow

12. Rimming (Bath/shower/water sex & piercings) - Éomer x fem!OC for @laurfilijames

13. Breeding Kink (Knotting & aphrodisiacs) - Turgon x werewolf!Finrod for MoonLord

14. Begging (Impact play & edging/OD (orgasm denial)) - Duilin x Balrog by popular demand

15. ABO (ABO (omegaverse) & group sex/orgy) - Turgon x Celegorm x Curufin x Finrod for MoonLord

16. Desk Sex (Authority kink/power imbalance & throne sex) - Thorin x Bilbo (because I love @mithrilhearts)

17. Praise Kink (Lingerie & praise kink) - FInwë x Thingol

18. Prostitution (Mistaken identity/anonymous sex & pegging) - Idril x Tuor x Maeglin

19 . Double Penetration (Dub-con/non-con/blackmail & dacryphilia) - Melkor/Mairon/Maedhros for MoonLord

20. Rough Sex (Boots/feet & marking/branding) - Éowyn x Faramir

Dark Chocolate 🔥🔥🔥

21. Ovipositors (Size difference & nipple play) - Finrod x Caranthir for Anon

22. Free Use (Somnophilia & oral) Angrod x Caranthir for Anon (Dark Revenge Fantasies Part I)

23. Sounding (Glory hole & breath play) - Glorfindel x Maglor for @maglor-my-beloved (Dark Revenge Fantasies Part II)

24. Intoxicated Sex (Wet dreams & mind control) - Elwing x Eärendil for @the-red-butterfly

25. Voyeurism (Voyeurism & cuckolding) - Galadriel x Elrond (and Teleporno getting a tele porno) for @theswarmkeeper

26. Pet Play (Rimming & crossdressing) - Thorin x Bilbo for anon

27. Gaping (Electrostimulation & toys) - Maedhros x Fingon

28. Pain Play (Fealty kink & dirty talk) - Túrin x Orodreth for @elentarial

29. Gags (Tender sex & (pseudo) incest) - Rog/Maeglin for Anon

30. Degradation (Predator/prey & hate fucking) - Ori x Elf!OC

31. Free Space (Ritual sex, vampirism, incubi/succubi, tentacles, oviposition, monsterfucking/eldritch, cages, leather, intercrural sex) - Celegorm x Lúthien for @elentarial

#og post #Masterlist #Kinktober 2024 #Kinktober #IDNMT presents sin #short ficlets #the silmarillion #The Hobbit #LOTR #wlw #mlm #whatever you want

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silverstudios · 6 months ago

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Flee (Promise unkept timeline)

WOO I finally got this done, sorry about how long it took things have been crazy recently. Anyway, Alex moment :D

Alex was well aware that what they were doing right now was the act of a coward-Or at very least it felt like it.

Their knuckles were white against the scratched up and itchy wheel cover that they have had for far too long, the engine sounded like it was begging to be put out of its misery as they thundered across the empty streets with the only company they kept was the quickly setting sun and dread of knowing what was going to become of what was once their hometown.

It was the act of a coward to run and save their own life instead of facing what they knew was coming and maybe convincing their friends to Not eat the entire population of the town.

But they also knew that isn’t how that interaction would go. They knew the second Clyde got into their house and they were still there, that they’d end up right alongside Lewis before they could even get a single word in. Tucked away within the veldgun’s rib cage like some kind of twisted version of an eternal hug…

For a while, Alex had always figured Clyde was just- joking about eating them. When they first started this odd friendship, they had been just waiting for the boot to drop, but after everything the two had gone through together- the running, being hunted by caregivers and police, that one forsaken thunder storm- they figured the taunting and occasional hungry looks were just Clyde’s idea of an inside joke.

They should have listened to Simon, should have heeded that warning and not laugh it off.

Should have listened when he explained that Clyde had different ideas of what it means to be friends than they did.

Alex might have been more mentally prepared for this situation if they had listened.

Their cheeks still stung from last night, A poorly placed band-aid not enough to cover the slash mark that the good doctor had given them. Part of them mourned the fact Lankman hadn’t swung a little higher in his attempt to stay alive, if he had then Alex would have lost their eye- it would have been a better cover up story for why they had to suddenly leave Eastridge behind.

A Thunk made them pause and slam on the break, double checking the mirror to make sure they hadn’t run over something- they were teetering on the edge of tears already as is- and signed in relief when all they saw was the road and a small pothole in it. They shouldn’t be driving this fast anyway- they’re already out of Eastridge, have been for about 30 minutes now…

A skid, a shift, and they park on the side of the road. A deep, shaking, almost burning breath is taken in, eyes looking upwards to the pinkish purple sky- the sun has set and whatever little light remains is quickly vanishing alongside it, it’s their time to wake and play now- and let it out, burning streaks of water follow it.

Why does it feel like they’re betraying it? Why does this action of self preservation feel like they’re stabbing a knife into the friendship that was made with Clyde?

Maybe because it had seemed so exciting at the thought the last time they saw each other? Seemed so gleeful and happy as it licked the blood off their cheek, tail swinging and purrs racing from it. Maybe because Alex knew that if it hadn’t been for the fact it had eaten at least 5 caretakers during that madness to free its partner it would have Happily devoured them then and there….

….perhaps it’s because they know the action wasn’t seen the same way for it. While they saw a threat of being eaten alive, Clyde saw it as ensuring their friendship would never end. While they saw it as an awful way to die, Clyde viewed it as them gaining life eternal…

While Alex viewed the mere thought of getting eaten after everything they’ve been through together as a betrayal, Clyde viewed it as a sign of care and affection. As a way to deal with Alex’s short human lifespan, to keep away “Fade”- they never got a clear answer of what Clyde had meant by that…- to keep them safe, to make sure it didn’t lose its friend.

They sniffled, rubbing their eyes to free them from the stinging tears and looked over at the walkie talkie next to them. They had left the matching pair on their kitchen table, alongside a paper explaining what was going on. What they had planned for the two.

Despite everything, despite the fear and dread in their chest and despite the understanding of what it wishes to do ....Clyde was Alex’s friend, and they didn’t want to hurt it, and so they had decided to turn their desperate flee for survival into something Clyde could hopefully find fun.

Clyde enjoys a good challenge with its prey, and plays “Games” with them if in the mood. Tag, hide and seek, so on and so forth. And so that’s what Alex has decided to set this up as- A game.A game of hide and seek, winner takes all…and the only way for alex to win was to just- never see Clyde again…and well, Clyde would win pretty quickly if the two ever came face to face again.

They shifted back upright, rubbing their eyes once more and looking up at the sky- dark and blue and covered with stars on this moonless night…And flipped the key back into action, checked the back mirror and started back down the road, at a less potentially neck breaking speed….They hope Lexi wouldn’t mind the unexpected visit and prayed to whatever force there was above that she and her husband would be alright with them staying…

They took one last glance at the back mirror, at the metal sign in the ground- “Eastridge county-35 minutes away!”- and took a deep breath.

“.......Goodbye….”

#doai sitcom au #promise unkept timeline #doai alex williams #doai clyde #kinda it was heavily mentioned #dreams of an insomniac #silver writes #hehehehe

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thesightstoshowyou · 1 year ago

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Collective

- Part One -

Vincent Sinclair x F Reader x Asa Emory

Warnings: Violence, blood, threats, brief descriptions of gore

A/N: @quiveringdeer and her headcanon machine got me thinking about these two again, so I’ve given this piece from a few years ago a nice facelift. I hope to continue with part two soon!

It’s mid morning when a man strolls into town, the unforgiving Louisiana heat already simmering on cracked asphalt. He’s maybe mid-forties, alone, and handsome in a rugged way, you’ll admit, in his work boots, double-fronted jeans, and plaid button up. Outdoorsy, you guess.

You watch him through the window as he cautiously surveys the area. When Lester had called to alert you to the newcomer, he’d sounded hesitant, or maybe uneasy. Whatever it was, it’s put you on edge already.

Sauntering out the door of Bo’s shop, you wrinkle your nose at the oppressive heat before forcing a sweet smile across your face.

“Hey there! You lookin’ fer Bo?” The twangy accent is easy to fake after so much practice. He turns to you, the cold look on his face almost tripping you up. Then, his dark eyes quickly dart from your cleavage to your face and you regain composure.

He’s only a man. Relax.

“So I’ve been instructed,” he responds to your question. His voice is deep and rich like bourbon. You’d swoon if you didn’t know he’d be roadkill before the sun sets.

“He should be back in about a half hour. Had to run to town fer supplies.” The man hums noncommittally, a displeased scowl on his face. He glances around again as you speak, studying each house in detail. His eyes are piercing, calculating. There’s intelligence there, beyond his gaze. He reminds you of Vincent.

You suppress a shudder. Best get him somewhere else before he starts looking too closely.

Plastering another smile on your face, you announce, “We, uh, have a pretty good wax museum here. I can show it to ya’ if you’d like. Keep ya’ entertained while we wait fer Bo.” The man raises an eyebrow, indicating he would rather do a million other things than look at some half-rate wax museum in this shit hole town. You can hardly blame him.

“Lead the way,” he replies, surprising you.

Alright then.

You must leave the shade offered by Bo’s shop in order to lead the man up the hill toward the museum. As you walk, he studies every building, like he’s searching for something. For other people, you wager.

Unease grows. You’re uncomfortable with this man who is obviously too smart for his own good, but you don’t have much of a choice. You have a job to do, a job that is the only thing keeping you from a knife to the gut and an eternity encased in wax.

Distract him before he notices too much. “What brings you to the area, Mister…?”

“Emory. Call me Asa.” He finally peels his gaze away from the surroundings to look at you. “Entomology conference in New Orleans.”

A bug guy, huh? Be dumb. “Entomology. Is that like, uh, snakes an’ stuff?”

“Insects,” he corrects tersely. You giggle and nod, like you hadn’t just insulted his field of expertise. You wipe your dripping forehead on the back of your arm, hoping he thinks you’re sweating from the heat and not from nerves.

Finally, you reach the museum. He pauses to give one hard look at the Sinclair house perched atop the hill before holding the door open for you. You thank him and slip inside, relieved to be out of the heat.

The museum is oppressively silent, a fact to which you can never grow accustomed. It’s a perpetual funeral, an unmarked grave commanding muted respect for its enshrined dead. You wonder if Asa feels it too.

That eerie, itchy feeling tickles the back of your neck and you know he’s close now, close enough to see you and Asa. Somewhere in the dark lurks Vincent, ready to dispatch the man at your side.

Clearing your throat, you motion to the first piece: The woman with her hand raised as if in greeting, frightful smile stretched across her face. “This is—

Your words lodge in your throat along with your heart when you’re grabbed from behind and pinned against the wall. The hand on the back of your head grinds your face into wax. Your cry of shock morphs into a choked inhale when the point of a knife is pushed to your throat.

“You’re going to tell me what you have going on here or I’m going to open up an artery,” Asa growls in your ear. Panic surges through your bloodstream and you thrash, heedless of the knife that nicks your flesh. Warmth trickles down your neck and chest to soak into your shirt.

“P-Please don’t touch me, p-please, he won’t like it, please let me go.” You drop the fake accent as you beg, tears welling in your eyes, neck straining to look at the man behind you.

You freeze when a thumb brushes over the brand on your shoulder, your damned shirt having slipped down in the scuffle. Asa traces the white scar, the dips and curves of the embellished “S.”

“Interesting,” he muses.

“Don’t—

You both hear the approaching footsteps at the same time, quick taps that disturb the hush around you. Asa reacts first. He whips you both around and you shriek, snapping your eyes shut and bracing for impact.

The crowbar stops its downward arc inches from your face. A tremulous wheeze leaves your lips as Vincent leaps back and hunches down into a defensive position. He’s twitchy, agitated, the good eye behind the mask flicking to the hands on you, to your terrified face, to Asa’s calm expression.

Asa grips you around the middle, cool steel slotting under your chin. He walks you in a half circle so he’s no longer caged in by the wax wall behind him. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you allow yourself to be maneuvered, the pressure of the blade on your flesh more than enough incentive. As you move, Vincent’s own knife swishes as it’s withdrawn from its sheath.

You both come to a stop next to one of the statues, the one of the man holding his hat aloft. You expect to keep moving, but find Asa has fallen as still as the figure beside you. His head turns and you realize he’s closely inspecting the statue. Slowly, he brings you both closer. What’s he looking for…?

With a swift kick, Asa knocks the statue to the ground. The upraised arm and the man’s head crack when the statue collides with the floor, limb and skull bouncing and rolling away. Revealed to him now are the layers of real, human flesh, muscle, organs, and bone encased in wax, preserved for all time.

For a moment, everyone stands frozen. The severed head rolls to a stop near Vincent’s boots, but his eye remains firmly locked on the knife at your throat. Your breath leaves you in a shuddering exhale.

Adjusting his grip on the blade, Asa hums thoughtfully. With the toe of his boot, he tips the wax victim to get a better look at its grotesque insides. There’s no tension in his body, no change in his slow, even breathing. He appears completely unperturbed by this gruesome discovery.

Speaking to Vincent, he asks curiously, “Are they all people?” Cautiously, Vincent straightens, tilting his head suspiciously at the nonchalant question. “Well?” Asa presses, gripping you tighter, applying pressure to the knife until you squeak.

Slowly, the wax mask bobs up and down in a nod.

“Very unique,” Asa comments. He drags you back to the next scene, a man kneeling over a woman on a sofa. As he looks over the figures, he adds, “Always a pleasure to meet a fellow artist.”

Artist.

A fellow artist.

What…what does he mean?

“And this is your muse?” His tone is mocking now, the hand around your waist sliding up to your chin to give your head a teasing shake.

Vincent growls, his grip so tight on the handle of his blade his knuckles blanche. Asa chuckles quietly and squeezes your jaw so tight you whimper. Vincent moves to take a step closer, but Asa tips your head up with the blade, pressing the point to your fluttering pulse.

“You’ll get her back, but first I need a few things from you.”

#asa emory #vincent sinclair #the collector 2009 #the collection 2012 #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #asa emory x reader #thesightstoshowyou #crossover au #flashing gif

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