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hadesrise · 1 month ago

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murder for you, baby !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ➾ a justifiable serial killer on the loose, and jason finds himself being enamoured by him.

��𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ➾ jason todd x dbd!ghostface!male reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ➾ nsfw content, serial killer themes, dead dove do not eat, sexual arousal in response to violence or torture, murder, blood, deaths, gore, foul language, bottom!jason, top!reader, reader’s physique is described as tall and broad ( the slasher build ), possessiveness, choking, praise kink, blood kink, knife play ( reader carving his initials on jason ), toxic!reader ( ? ), sorta toxic relationship but also not, unprotected sex, love-making, pet names, overstimulation, dumbification, degradation if you squint, lil’ bit of manipulation, creampie, doggy style, mating press, biting, marking, oral ( r. receiving ), voice kink ( ? )

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ➾ not me coming back with halloween themed fic after halloween days have passed lol. i’m alive, y’all !! hope you enjoy this one that took a fucking month to write 😭

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ; this post may contain disturbing contents that may not be suitable for every reader — a reader discretion is advised. MINORS DNI.

Gotham’s been terrorized by the worst people you could ever imagine, the kind that’ll stick with you forever and take residence to your nightmares if you were unfortunate enough. Many were hurt or even murdered as a result of the villains’ terrorization, with vigilantes running through the night to capture and send them to Arkham Asylum.

With the existence of a Psychopathic Clown, his equally psychopathic girlfriend with PHD’s that’s been wasted down the line, the Mother Nature freak, the ridiculously huge man with a gas mask on, the green coloured living question mark, and many others, no one would’ve ever thought anything could get any worse.

Until some criminals’ bodies turn up across the streets in such disturbing manner that haunts the witnesses to death.

One, a criminal who murdered young and homeless boys, gutted deeply to the point of their intestines hanging out. Another, a criminal known for kidnapping and selling people’s organs, mutilated with their torso torn back to expose the organs settled inside of them. Another one, a priest-turned-criminal who’s been violating women and children, crucified naked in his own church with his eyes gouged out, a Bible verse carved in his chest; ‘And if your eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away.’ Matthew 18:9; his penis cut off and body seemingly violated as well. Another more turns up, a governor-turned-criminal who’s been feeding into the rich despite their oath of generosity towards the poor, severely tortured with the skin on his back cut open, ribs severed from the spine and broken to the sides in order to create the illusion of wings, fluttering lungs pulled out from their chest cavity to resemble an eagle’s wings, with the word ‘traitor’ carved on his forehead.

The brutality and gruesome nature of the murders has set an alarming panic and fear across Gotham City that forced civilians into locking their doors at night. Criminals who were unidentified and not found by Gotham Police Department were also turning up in a form of miserable, tortured soul, along with the evidence and proofs of their crimes being carelessly laid beside their lifeless corpse.

The killer taunts those who are in charge of justice within their city each time the damned were unfortunate enough to be hunted down; pigs of failure written in the criminal’s blood right beside the drawing of a police’s logo.

However, despite how gruesome and disturbing the murders were, most people couldn’t deny that it was doing the city a favor. Justice System has failed more times than one could count to the extent of victims yearning to exact revenge themselves against their perpetrator, which causes most to react rather positively to the wrongful, unlikely hero who had seem to suddenly appear out of nowhere. The haunted finally getting the chance to slay the traumatic demons with the help of another psychopath on the loose.

Another justified monstrosity shouldn’t be the counter against one inhumane monstrosity that caused so much pain, trauma, and misery. But kindness could not vanquish one’s tainted blood. Forgiveness could not suddenly wash away the sins engraved deeply into one’s soul.

Imperfect, the victims muttered. An imperfect yet perfect way to save our burning souls wrongfully condemned by the criminals.

Red Hood has heard their murmurs.

Silent whispers of gratitude that fell on deaf ears, their previously dim soul brightening in relief and sanctuary with smiles on their faces as the Universe had finally took mercy on them and sent a Fallen Angel to slay the Demons away. He’s watched their spirit uplift, no longer chained down by the trauma and fear of the monsters that once ruined their lives, able to walk the streets carefree of tormentors. He’s watched their stiff posture visibly loosen, lively peacefulness settling itself at last within their haunted eyes. He’s watched them glow with happiness not feeling the presence of their perpetrator every couple of seconds, finally capable of living without needing to constantly look over their shoulders in paranoia and fear.

Ghostface is what the serial killer’s called, nickname born out of the mask that resembled a ghost always being left behind in crime scenes, each slightly different.

Jason has seen you. He didn’t mean to, really.

The temptation to get at least one look at you was great every-time he patrolled, wishing to just catch glimpse of an immoral hero who could make sacrifices no actual heroes could — who’s doing exactly what he wished before for Batman to do.

The Universe seems to have granted his wishes when his eyes catches the void of ghostface’s eyes, your mask tainted in splatters of blood from the dead criminal below you. Jason feels his world come to a stop as you slowly rise from crouching position and reveal your unnaturally tall height, broad shoulders visible under the black hooded leather. You hold silence and calmness despite being caught, tilting your head slightly to the side.

His heartbeat quickens yet he doesn’t feel fear. Jason idiotically steps closer as if he was in a trance, burning your existence within his eyes to engrave in his memory. Your bloody knife barely grazes his neck to stop him before using it to tilt his chin up, your figure looming and towering over him while seemingly staring into his eyes through his helmet.

A sense of peacefulness overcomes Jason being in your presence despite the absolute brutality and mercilessness that surrounded your entire being. You were deadly, silent, certainly creative with your work that it deems almost artistic, as if the criminals’ bodies were your own canvas to paint on — and Jason finds solace in you. A man he always needed, someone who’d be willing to cross the line and get rid of the actual evil for the sake of victims that’d be forever haunted if it continues to exist.

“I’ve heard things about you, Red Hood.”

Low, raspy, monotone voice speaks, sending shivers down his spine. It sounds cool and handsome regardless of the obvious use of voice changer, somehow littered with tiniest hint of flirtatiousness.

It takes him quite a while to answer, barely managing to let out a “yeah?” as he feels you drag the knife slightly closer to his pulse. His heartbeat quickens, but slows down when the cold metal was finally pulled away.

“Pleasant things,” You hummed, before your voice lowered a few octaves, “Can’t say the same about Batman.” Anger seems to seep through your tone that felt a little more than just sympathy for victims of villains Batman refused to put six feet under. Jason wondered if you’re also one of the victims his father failed.

“You… You know him that much?” Jason’s voice shakes from the nerve, your presence somehow greatly affecting him.

“I think everyone knows him enough,” You chuckled, but it sounded so empty that Jason can’t help but feel the goosebumps rise on his skin. It was quite chilling to meet someone who shows only a certain amount of emotion which could even be felt expressionless due to the monotonous pitch. The ghostface mask certainly did its job of making you seem more less human, the unmoving expression of ghost being horrified to death adding to the eeriness of your toneless mechanic voice.

Jason’s breath hitched when you took one step closer.

“But I know more about you. Your little past and the sufferings you’ve endured,” It’s spoken as if his life was one of your necessary investigation in your twisted justice. “It’s unfair, don’t you think? I would’ve gutted the Joker like a fish if it were to happen to my son.” There’s a condescending way in which you spoke, not directed at Jason but to Bruce.

“How—” Jason swallowed. “How did you—”

“I can make your dreams come true,” You interrupted him with a tempting offer, shutting him up effectively. Wide grin plastered your face despite not being seen behind your mask. “I can kill the Clown for you, Red Hood. If it means it’ll silence your troubled spirit. If it’ll bring you peace. I can hurt him on your behalf just like he deserves.”

It was like a whisper from the devil, slithering its way into Jason’s heart and mind to possess his soul, mirroring the one which whispered on Adam and Eve’s ears.

He’s been wanting — needing — to hear those words come out of Bruce. His suffering and death seemingly being brushed off as a cruel accident shattered him more than he’d ever admit, Bruce’s unhealthy coping mechanism and morality getting in the way of showing his love for Jason that left the younger man feel lesser than he was. Bruce was a complex person that’s sometimes difficult to understand, his impressive ways to stick to his morals being exactly his character, but Jason wanted for once, to actually feel how important he was to his father.

Was that too much to ask for, or was he just unworthy of the entirety of it?

“Why would you do that for me?” Confusion and subtle suspicion filled his tone as Jason narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out your intention despite the rush of hope that shot throughout his chest. He forced himself to feel nothing when you leaned in closer.

“Because you were wronged, of course.” You simply stated. “You are a victim. Not more, not less. You deserve a little more than just empty justice. And I’m a man who got tired of vigilantes that are afraid to make sacrifices for the greater good.” Then, you tilt your head slightly to the side in a way that’s somehow alluring. “But I can also say I’m intrigued by you.”

Jason’s heartbeat quickens again when your big hand seems to wrap perfectly around his throat, fingers resting just above his pulse points. It makes such filthy thoughts flood themselves into his mind, your long and quite thick fingers falling victims to his tainted imagination, and he had to give everything in himself not to bare his throat more for you. You seem pleased of his lack of disobedience and bite, having expected him to shove your hand away or flinch back before you could touch him. You’ve seen Red Hood once and how his uncontrollable rage resulted in violence, heavy burdens and extreme trauma turning him into a ticking time bomb that could explode any minute with the wrong move. He was absolutely lethal, the bullets serving as the evidence of his wrath and resentment towards the underground scumbags. It’s amusing that you have the man of violence himself now somehow completely under your control, surprisingly quiet and shy and obedient. You wondered if this is how he was before he was ruined by the cruelty of the world.

“You want it, don’t you? For me to kill the Joker.”

Jason feels as if you know everything he wants. Is this what it feels like to be important?

It takes a little while for him to answer, but he eventually came up with a “You’ll do that?” which sounded vulnerable and weak for the first time in his second life. Your heart clenched at the doubt and seemingly child-like vulnerability in which he uttered the words, as if he was afraid to trust something after being betrayed countless of times, reminding you of the sole person you’ve even began doing all of this for. They were quite similar yet so different — your older brother and Jason.

You hadn’t meant to cross his boundaries and unknowingly step into the empty hole that made home in his heart. Unconsciously slithering in like a snake by touching the subject his heart was longing for, not realizing his childhood’s still remaining within his spirit.

All he wanted was love and to feel safe again. You didn’t know the Red Hood was so adorably pitiful. A smirk plastered your face.

“I will,” You reassured and leaned your face inches away from his, the hand on his throat lifting his helmet slightly.

Jason doesn’t retaliate, blinded by a meat of hope dangled in front of him. He doesn’t move as the lower half of his face was exposed, and you lifted your own mask the same using your other hand. Jason willingly, obediently closes his eyes before your lips attached to his — a kiss of death, tasting like blood and cruelty. Warm and soft despite your rough, cold-blooded, corrupted soul. A kiss from the devil.

When Jason opened his eyes, you had already disappeared into the darkness with blood stains on the ground you stood before, a single note left behind; Hell will reopen for the Clown.

After neatly tucking the note inside his jacket and making sure no evidence has been accidentally left on the crime scene, Red Hood smiles for the first time in a long while and reaches for the comms without a heavy heart.

“Batman, I found another body.”

Whatever happens, he’ll have no knowledge of the following misfortune that’ll befall on the Joker. It’s the righteous serial killer’s doing, after all.

What was used to be a maniacal laughter turned into screams of agony and pain. Strong stench of death and blood makes euphoria rush within your mind, the feeling of slicing through flesh with your knife bringing pleasure and ecstasy that made your pants tight. There’s a certain amount of satisfaction in the way your own actions cause serious harm and scarring to criminals who once deemed themselves powerful, being reduced into nothing but a powerless prey that could easily be gotten rid of.

You feel increasingly powerful the more you strip them of their dignity and arrogance as they shed blood on the holy ground. Your existence alone striking them with crippling fear and anxiety feeds into your ego, yet you never stray away from the sole purpose or reason for your murders — making them taste their own medicine.

From what you found on countless deep dive and research, Joker preyed on Red Hood when he was still a young child full of life and joy, having been under the name Robin at the time. Second Robin to be exact, considering he was a lot different from the first one. It actually surprisingly pained you when you’d seen how much of an adorable, dorky, nice kid he was before misfortune cut his life short. You would’ve never thought you would find a kid adorable in your entire life, the little menaces often being nothing more than a headache to be around with that caused a certain dislike to grow towards them within you, but Jason was everything a cute kid was. Just excited to be there, to be fighting alongside Batman, to be relevant.

Such a precious boy ruined for the sake of shits and giggles for the Clown. For the sake of getting under Batman’s skin. And the Bat couldn’t even make fucking amends to his flaws as a father and mentor.

Well, he didn’t need to anymore.

You’ll give Red Hood— Jason Todd —what he wants. Yearned for. Perhaps, even what the other civilians who have fallen victims to this vile criminal want. You would stop at nothing until every criminal is gurgling and choking on their own blood.

Joker’s scream shoots a jolt of electricity within your body as your knife pierce through his skinny thigh and to the ground, pinning his leg down. You had been doing an effective job of reducing the maniac into nothing but a screaming, cowering average victim by torture. Bruises, burns, gashes, and stab wounds littered his body that was done carefully enough to not be life-threatening. Fucker was laughing maniacally at first, of course. It irritated you so much that you might’ve went a little overboard.

Watching Joker heave and struggle to breathe from the pain, you tilted your head and roughly grabbed his throat. It catches him off guard and he grips your wrist, barely even having the strength to fight you off. You’re amused by the entirety of Joker’s nature, how he’s still just an average man that can easily be overpowered — nothing that makes him special enough to not be killed, becoming proof of Batman’s selfish willingness to let the victims suffer than bring them actual peace.

You’ve never uttered a word since you captured him and it unnerved Joker from the beginning, but then, words finally come out of your mouth in a form of monotonous, mechanical, emotionless, eerie voice as you lean over him; “Laugh it out, Joker. Why so serious?”

It sounded like a death sentence.

He’s right in a way, because another of your knife pierced the corner of his mouth soon as you uttered the words. Your other hand tightened on his arteries to choke him while you drag the knife to slit the side of his mouth into a grin, following the lines of his red lipstick. It was certainly not a clean cut, but an artist has their own creative ways to make their art. Tears mixed in with blood that gushes out of his face, complete horrors written across Joker’s eyes which boosts your satisfaction. You go on and do the same thing to the other side of his mouth, before finishing your art piece by carving ‘J’ on his painted cheek.

You resist the urge to moan at the sight of blood coating your fine piece, always finding it to be an amazing finishing touch.

From then on, Joker was brought to literal Hell.

Jason flinches when a playful knock sounded from his safe house’s window, cautiously approaching to see ghostface waving at him through the glass. His eyes widened and immediately opens the window to let you in, not wanting anyone to see you — your sudden appearance distracting him from the fact he’s never given anyone the location of his safe house.

He stops in track at the blood splatters across your mask, and just then had he noticed you seemed to be hiding something behind your back with one hand. It definitely strikes his curiosity, but he somehow didn’t feel like you were holding something that could harm him.

“You got something for me, ghostface?” Jason feels you grin under your mask.

“Got you a present,” Your raspy, rough voice enthusiastically quipped.

Jason’s breath hitches when you show what you were holding — the Joker’s decapitated head in a square glass container tainted by its blood. You obviously had planned to bring it barehand, but you considered the possibility of its blood dripping down on his safe house and becoming a false evidence to point him to the murder, which prompted you to put it inside the container. An unbelievably sweet gesture for a fucking psychopath like you.

Jason could feel his heart beat rapidly as he takes in the animal’s state, carved up grin and the letter J and the horrors seen in its lifeless eyes proving the absolute misery and suffering it went through before being put down. The monster was finally, finally slain and gone forever from his life. Nightmares detangles from his spirit and the past unwraps away from his soul, utter peace and relief spreading throughout his chest. Tears gathered in his eyes at the feeling of being free at last from the life long torment, breath shaking as his knees wobbled.

The child in himself, the innocent Robin that was killed unfairly, finally rests in peace.

Then he sees you, his hero, waving your seemingly new knife playfully in the air with your outfit splattered in blood without a care that you actually saved him, and Jason feels a sudden surge of arousal and will to submit. To give you everything, anything.

“Do you love it, Red Hood?”

Without answering you, Jason grabs the glass container with shaky hands and sets it aside on the counter before stepping back closer to you again, blood rushing to his veins from arousal. He removes his helmet with a thud on the floor and falls to his knees in front of you, lustful and yearning emerald eyes looking up at you.

“Let me thank you, please.”

It makes you groan as your pants significantly tightens more.

You slide your knife back into the holster before cupping his beautiful face in your hands, and thank fucking Heavens there wasn’t any blood on it that would taint his face, because he’s a sight to behold. He’s truly a gem, something precious you had never seen before. “So beautiful,” You whispered, making Jason flush. “Baring yourself to me for such a simple present, doll?”

“Not a simple present,” Jason mumbled as he snuggles on the palm of your hands. “You saved me.”

You hum appreciatively, getting the itch to bare yourself to him as well. “You wanna thank me by what?”

Jason looks back at you, face flushed with a little hint of uncertainty and embarrassment, doubts. “I— uhm,” He stammers, but encouraged by your thumb’s gentle stroke on his cheek. “By… by becoming yours.”

Your cock throbs. Fuck, he’s so fucking adorable, you just wanna fuck his guts out. You’re usually tempted to gut people, not fuck their guts— which is funny to say the least— but you weren’t going to say no when the Red Hood’s so willing to offer himself up.

“You wanna take my mask off, doll?” He seems surprised by your question as if he hadn’t thought of it, making you chuckle. “If you wanna be mine, I gotta be yours too, don’t I?” It was dangerous to reveal your identity to him, but you couldn’t care less, especially when you could just fuck his brains out to shut him up. That’s the plan, first time that didn’t include butchering or cutting a body up.

Jason fucking Todd and his effects on you.

The emerald eyed male hesitantly grasped your mask when you led his hands to it, slowly lifting it over your head. He’s met with a fucking luscious feature to ever be adorned on a man and dark, lustfully murderous blood red eyes that makes a whimper slip past his lips. You merely widened your eyes at the sound he made before immediately grabbing his jaw and smashing your lips against his, swallowing Jason’s surprised gasp.

He reciprocates the insatiable hunger you displayed, tongue dancing along with yours and moaning into the kiss when your fingers lightly tugged on his hair. You pull him up in amidst of making out and squeeze his ass, encouraging him to wrap his legs around your hips. You detach your lips from his to trail kisses down his jaw and neck as you walked towards his bedroom, questionably knowing where it is, and Jason tilts his head back to give you more access with closed eyes. Letting him stimulate both of your restrained cocks by grinding down, you sat down on the bed and sucked on his throat as Jason moaned.

“Please, please…” He whimpers, uncontrollably moving his hips in a perfect rhythm yet he seemed to want something else.

You pulled away and traced his lips with your thumb, watching as he naturally took it in and sucked, giving you a desperate look. Swiftly turning off the voice changer attached to your neck in a form of choker, you chuckled when his hands fiddled with the belt on your hooded coat. “So needy, aren’t you?” Your real voice sends shivers down his spine.

An alluring, low, slightly rough pitch and somehow more emotionless than when you were using the voice changer. It makes his cock twitch and empty hole clench down on nothing, the need to be stuffed full of your cum swarming in his belly. You’re fucking bewitching, a man made up from every guy and girl’s fantasy, wet dream, and your attractiveness mirroring the Devil’s that would tempt and lure others to sin.

How the fuck were you real?

“Speak up, pretty bird.” You smirked, “What do you want?”

“Your cock,” Jason mutters, cheeks tinted in pink. “Wanna suck your cock and make you feel good.”

“Fuck…” You shifted in place, “You’ll do that f’me? Get my cock nice and wet to take you apart? To fuck your guts out?”

Jason shakily inhales and nods, climbing off your lap and kneeling on the floor. You lean back on your hands as he unstraps your belt and slide your zipper down, slightly raising your hips to help him get rid of the excess clothes. Your thick and lengthy cock smacks against your clothed stomach, making Jason’s mouth water. Thick veins throbbed on your big shaft, the tip angry and red from arousal leaking precum. It wasn’t just big, it was long, and Jason squeezes his thighs together to keep himself from just riding your cock all day.

His hand wraps around the base, starting to stroke it with a content rhythm. God, you were so fucking big. It’d definitely split him open if you shove it in so suddenly and fill him up nice. It’d make him scream his head off from the unbearable length and girth, almost too much, and Jason wants you to force him to take it. Pin him down and fuck him despite his pleas to stop.

Jason swipes his thumb over the slit, smearing precum, pumping it for a good amount before licking a stripe up the underside of your cock. You shudder, removing your gloves to slip your bare fingers through Jason’s hair, encouraging him to take you in. He obeys, relaxing his throat first before sliding your cock inside his warm mouth, and you groaned at the warmth that surrounded you. It almost didn’t fit from how big you were, but Jason braced himself and took it in further until he gagged as the tip touched the back of his throat. Wrapping his hand around your shaft that he couldn’t take in, stroking gently as if to apologize.

A moan slips past your lips when he starts bobbing his head, tongue brushing against the underside of your dick. “Fuck… Doin’ so good,” You roll your head back. “Such a pretty face to fuck, ain’t ya?”

Jason whines, tears gathered in his eyes as he sucks and fastens his rhythm. Curses, grunts leave your lips that left him feeling all hot and bothered, his other hand moving to skillfully pull his pants down and free his aching cock.

You see him touching himself and a smirk adorns your sinful face, gently scratching his scalp with your nails which earned you a whimper from him. “Go on, fuck yourself. We both know it wouldn’t fit that easily without proper prep,” Expression twisting into a cocky one, your grip on his hair tightened. “I’ll do as I please with your mouth until you’re done.”

Without waiting for his approval, you roughly shoved your cock deep down his throat and moaned loudly, throwing your head back. Jason gagged with a loud whimper as his eyes rolled back into his skull and cum shot out from his throbbing cock, hips jutting forward and twitching due to the sudden orgasm. You chuckle lowly, amusement and lust glinting in your bright red eyes, before you pull back and ram on his throat again.

Jason’s cries and moans were muffled as you ruthlessly use his throat to gain pleasure. His mind has already turned into mush from your assaults, white cum and precum staining the floor yet he doesn’t put up a fight. Taking it all like the good, obedient boy that he is. He’s reached behind him to insert two fingers in his awaiting hole, walls clamping down on the digits from the arousal of his throat being utterly wrecked.

Yesyesyes, please. He chanted in his mind. Use me, mark me, cum in my throat, make me yours.

The moment you fulfilled your promise and delivered him the head of his enemy, he was already yours. It’s all he ever wanted. Unquenchable thirst that always gnawed on his throat and hunger that left his stomach restless, his soul practically teared in half from being battered and beaten. He matters now — mattered enough to you, that you went ahead and killed the source of his misery. The love exploding in his chest was almost unbearable; he was already high on cloud nine from the moment he’s seen you present the head so cheerfully.

You see how he looks up at you, emerald eyes almost displaying hearts with how much he was melting. He’s taken your murderous act as an affection, and you couldn’t be more happy, because it’s what you intended.

“Shit, baby… Gonna cum soon,” You panted, thrusting vigorously. Jason hums and flexes his throat to provide you more pleasure, making you tighten the grip on his hair. “You want me to cum down your throat?”

You earned a desperate whine from him, closing his eyes to prove he was waiting for it. His fingers kept their own assault on his prostate, scissoring and stretching the squishy walls, muffled moans escaping him.

God, he looked so fucking gorgeous. He’d look even more gorgeous with your dick ramming inside him.

Jason feels your big cock throb in his mouth and his fingers move more aggressively to pleasure himself, wanting to reach his high at the same time as you. Stimulating your tip with the back of his throat a few times, you moaned loudly with a curse when Jason slightly flicks his tongue over your sensitive underside, forcing an orgasm out of your body. White, thick, warm seeds spurt out from your slit to his awaiting throat as Jason whimpered in delight and shot another layer of cum on the wet stained floor, hips thrusting in the air.

He greedily swallows every drop that spilled down his mouth despite the euphoria making him feel dizzy as his body slightly trembles.

You chuckled, breathing heavily, pleased expression spread across your face. “Good boy. That was such a good throat-fuck.”

The raspy, sultry tone of your voice makes electricity and chills run through Jason’s spine as his walls clench down on his fingers, yearning to be filled. Jason certainly doesn’t have a womb — it’s anatomically impossible — yet he couldn’t help but feel like it’s there, waiting and aching to be fucked and bred. He needs your cum to be pushed so far inside him. Need to be marked entirely as yours inside and out. Need you to rearrange his guts, fuck his brains out, breed him full, then fuck your cum further back into him.

Jason pulled his fingers out, whimpering at the loss of contact, before looking back up at you with begging eyes. “Can you-?” His voice cracks as he swallows, “Take me apart, please. Make me yours, fuck, I wanna be yours.”

You noticed tears gathering in his eyes, as if being rejected of his want to be your possession would be an ultimate heartbreak in his life; a life-threatening, gnawing thorn in his heart that’ll tear him apart piece by piece and shredding his soul. Jason thinks he can’t live without becoming yours, his savior’s. He can’t live without the source of his safety, the man that fulfilled his silly little dream and sacrificed his own sanity for it.

It absolutely amuses you that he’s become so attached just because you’ve driven him away from harm’s way. A little dumb, but he was your little dumb doll.

You gently caress his face and Jason leans into your touch, making your lips curl upwards into a smile. “Of course, doll.”

It leads to Jason being pressed face first on the mattress as you rail him from behind, sinful and alluring noises leaving his lips stained in drool. Your name escapes him like a chanted prayer, hands gripping the sheets, electricity sparking within his mind that left him dumb and unable to think coherently.

“Fuh-fuck! mgh, ah- yes, oh my god—!” He cries out when you pulled almost entirely back and rammed your cock roughly into him, almost seeing stars in his vision.

The roughness in which you handled him, the perfect angle of your hips allowing you to force pleasure out of his body every-time you thrust, the way you push his back down on the mattress to make him arch more into your merciless tactic, leaves Jason absolutely delirious. You didn’t just fuck him good; you fucked him with absolute vigor and violence, occasionally biting strongly on his shoulder to draw blood, showcasing your natural instincts as a serial killer. He feels your big fucking dick throb and gets impossibly bigger inside him each time his blood seeps out the broken skin, and Jason’s head spins at how much it drove arousal in his core.

“Good fuckin’ sex toy,” You grunted, roughly slamming your hips against his and causing a sharp moan to erupt from Jason.

“B-big—! s’too big- fuck!” Jason whines, tears spilling endlessly down his cheeks.

You smirk as you feel your ego skyrocket at being able to reduce a rather muscular man into nothing but a whining, blabbering bitch. “Yeah? I do split you open, don’t I? But you love it since you’re such a fuckin’ slut.”

“oh- aghn! y-yours— hnngh! Your s-slut! No one else’s-!” He chokes out, desperately reaching for you behind him.

“So fuckin’ adorable,” You chuckled and grabbed his hand, pinning it back to the mattress as you hover over him. You seem to fit against each other perfectly well, your large and tall body able to encage him that left Jason’s stomach fluttering. He’s taken a lot liking of the fact you’re bigger than him, considering he’s never been the smaller one when he was with others. It gives him a sense of shelter.

“p-please— pleaseplease- oh! cum— fuck… cum in me again!” Jason blabbered.

You can’t help but comply to his request, fastening your pace and drilling more into him. Incoherent sentences spill from his drooling mouth when he feels your cock pulse within his walls that signified your soon release. There’s a purpose in which you thrust your hips now — more sharp and angled yet a little sloppy, aimed to brush against his prostate and make him feel utterly good.

“Shit… Cummin’, doll.” You grunted right in his ear before shoving him on the mattress by the back of his nape and slamming all the way down on his already gaping hole.

Jason nearly screams, voice cracking, as his orgasm hits like a strong tide of wave at the same time you spilled thick layer of white semen into his fucked out guts. You ride out your orgasm by thrusting slowly a few times as Jason’s body violently shakes from the aftershock. He subconsciously whines in annoyance when some of your previous cum seems to overflow and replaced by your recent one, bucking his hips as if to use your big cock as a plug to keep them all in. His belly felt full from how much you’ve been filling him with your seed yet it still didn’t feel enough. Jason wanted more; he knew you weren’t going full on him yet.

You swiftly turned him around on his back without pulling out and kissed him roughly. Jason mewls into the kiss when the position makes you push more deeper into him, his hands immediately clasping at the back of his thick thighs to pull them up and make it easier for you to fuck.

“My cute little thing,” You murmured against his lips and bit the skin to draw blood, Jason’s hole squeezing down on you from both the pain and pet name. He greedily whimpers your name, holding onto you for life and yearning for more of you despite already receiving what he wants.

It was so fucking adorable and arousing to see him desperate for not just you, but your entire being as well, willing to welcome such darkness with open arms and tearful smile. You weren’t really a desirable person; so many people have thrown themselves at you for your conventionally attractive features and masculine body type that swoons hundreds yet cower away in fear and speak of you in disgrace when shown the demons living inside of you. No one could seem to look past your murderous, cold-blooded psychopathy — some have attempted to, which only resulted in your darkness growing bigger when they break their own promises. You weren’t meant to be loved. Your destiny was written in the stars and the Gods have cursed you with eternity of living in loneliness and madness without cure. You were meant to be feared, a lonely and violent soul that couldn’t be tamed, your sole purpose of existence being a destroyer; nothing more or less.

Jason, however, seems indifferent to your fate.

Instead of running away in disgust and fear at your acts of violence around the city, he was seeking for you. He’s seen what you’ve done, what you could do without feeling remorse, what monsters lie beneath your existence — and still, he graciously opens his heart (and legs) for you. There’s love and desire within his eyes where distaste should be, touch so soft and warm it baptizes your tainted skin. You’re soaked in blood yet Jason takes his time with you to clean them up. Born with thorns yet he willingly prickles his fingers on them.

You’re a danger everywhere you go, but to him, you were home.

It makes your heart clench; he’s broken the Gods curse and it costs him his freedom, because now he’s caught up in your webs. You wouldn’t let him go, like a snake that’s wrapped itself around its prey in a death grip.

Jason wanted to be yours. What better ways to fulfill his wish if not possessing his body, soul, and spirit?

“Sweet dumb thing,” You purred, hips thrusting slow and sensual, unable to forgive parts of his walls that weren’t touched by your cum. “Mine to fuck, ruin, or make love to. That’s right, yeah?”

Jason nods, moaning softly. Your hands now replaced where his were on the back of his thighs, bending him almost in half as you roll your hips to gently brush against every weak spot he has. The sudden shift in rhythm and atmosphere confuses Jason for a bit, his fogged mind unable to comprehend the situation at hand, but the intimacy strikes a further pleasure that was nearly mind-breaking. He’s been reduced to a moaning mess, blood, sweat, tears and cum coating his body.

“p-please,” Jason keened, like it felt agonizing to be loved ever so gently. “I— ah… I want- I want you,” He stuttered out between moans.

“You’re having me, aren’t you?” Replying, you nipped on his neck and sucked, leaving behind a purple bruise.

He nearly cries, shaking his head. A waterfall of tears streamed down his face, and you find yourself captivated by them. It was almost ethereal despite being one of human’s responses to most things imaginable; your victims always shed one or two accompanied by begs of mercy, but all you’ve ever thought of them was amusing. It’s been used as an escaping tactic from you before, which was never successful due to your lack of morality and sympathy towards your target. They were pathetic, but Jason was divine. Tears suited him— not tears of fear, but tears of pleasure and utopia.

Your focus snaps back on reality when Jason suddenly pulled you down by the nape and bit down hard on your shoulder. A pleasured groan leaves your lips at the pain, hips bucking, making him whimper.

“Jason—”

“Please,” He cuts you off and finally murmurs; “Wanna f-feel how… mhm-! how you actually love…”

It strikes something in your core. Despite your perfect skills of hiding your true nature and never being caught, Jason saw it right through you, how you were holding yourself back for his sake. Quite ironic to witness a cold-blooded killer care for someone enough to go soft, even though it looked like you were going rough on him, and it warmed Jason’s heart. But he was a greedy, fucked up human being who wanted all of you. It wouldn’t be enough until he knows he’s taken you fully.

An amused laughter erupts from your chest. Eyes darkening in lust, Jason feels one of your hands wrap around his throat warningly as the other pushed his torso flat down on the mattress. “You… You’ll be the fuckin’ death of me, Todd.”

You pull all the way back before ramming in, making Jason let out a loud, choked up moan as his eyes rolled back into his head. Your thrusts relentless and powerful, slamming against Jason’s body with an intensity that made his head spin, your hand holding his throat as a leverage. Your name spills from his lips like a prayer, something that seems to ignite a possessive feeling within you. Jason can’t help but mewl when your grip tightened on his arteries, throwing his head back to let you gain fully control.

The way he’s so obedient and putty in your hands despite knowing you can kill him if you truly meant to makes you love him even more, fucking him and taking away his ability to breathe wasn’t enough. Greediness turning overboard with the darkness and psychopathy that lies within your existence; you almost wanted to cut him open and crawl inside his guts so you could truly claim Jason, inside and out. You wanted to be more closer to him, see how far you can go without Jason pushing you away or getting disturbed.

Jason’s eyes widened when a cold metallic silver touched his cheek, seeing you holding your signature knife through blurred vision from his tears. However, he doesn’t flinch away like you expected him to, instead his walls squeezes down on your cock and his own twitched against his stomach. The unexpected reaction pulls a loud groan out of you, your hips bucking.

“Shit, Jay… You lettin’ me kill you or somethin’? Good fucking cunt just tightened on me,” You rasped, thrusting your cock against his prostate.

Jason gasps, his hands grabbing the mattress and holding it in a tight grip. It’s so shameful how turned on he was at the danger that lurked around you, his usually sharp instincts relinquished to be replaced by naiveté and stupidity for love. He must’ve gone insane; getting killed was one of his triggers because of his past yet his soul yielded nothing in retaliation to the possibility of your blade slicing through him. All of him seems to have come to love and trust you too much just because you’ve decapitated the beast his entire existence feared, which a part of him found utterly ridiculous and idiotic, but not enough to stop.

He wouldn’t stop himself from loving you — not when you’ve given him the love he always yearned for.

You lean in and ghost your lips over his as you dragged the knife on his torso, lightly scraping him. Jason’s breath quickens, his pupils blown wide in lust and need, anticipation seemingly running through his body as his moans turned into desperate whines.

“p-please…!” He chokes out a whisper, rolling his head to the side and whimpering when you snapped your hips warningly on his. “feels— fuck! feels g-good—! c-carve me… hngh! carve me u-up-! shit… make me fuckin’ bleed…! please,” Jason nearly cries for you.

Groaning out a curse, you reflexively bite down hard on the crook of his neck and push more of your cock inside him, causing a loud keen to erupt from Jason as he squirms and cums on his own stomach at the addictive sense of pleasure and pain shooting through his body.

You licked the blood that seeped out from his skin, satisfied at the clear bite mark you’ve left visible before sensually grinding your hips. Jason whimpered quietly, his body still trembling from the aftershocks of his orgasm.

“That’s it, doll. Let go, feel good. m’not gonna hurt ya, sweetheart. It’ll all feel good,” Whispering sweet words, you slowly press the tip of the knife just above the v line of his hip and drag it down. Jason hissed at the prickle of pain and tensed up, but the pleasure of your cock stimulating his sensitive walls was too great that forced him to relax. “It’s alright, doll. Jus’ carving you up with my name, so you’ll be mine forever. Isn’t that what you want? Be fuckin’ mine?”

Jason moaned softly, nodding his head. Series of pleasepleaseplease blabber out of him accompanied by heavenly noises he’s been making since you started taking him apart, his brain too fucked out that forcibly twisted pain into pleasure as all he could think about was becoming yours. You, his savior, his God, claiming him by marking him up with your name. Jason feels like he could fucking squirt from just that thought alone.

His blood seeping out from the letters of your name arouses you to no end, your cock throbbing inside him while you continue to move, the darkness within you being thoroughly fed of its bloodthirsty hunger. This is the first time it doesn’t gnaw at your skin to drive your knife deeper, pull the guts out, and splatter redness everywhere; instead, it wanted to be gentle, as if Jason was a significant existence too precious to hurt even for the Devil. A proof that Jason was always meant to be yours, the only one who the monster inside you would rather love than kill.

Carving the last letter, you laughed breathlessly in satisfaction and stabbed the knife on the headboard before slamming your lips against his, devouring his pleasurable noises. Jason whines, arms wrapping around your neck to pull you impossibly closer, arching his back when you switched into a much faster and rougher pace.

“Cummin’, fuck!” You grunted, to which Jason wrapped his legs around your hips to make sure it stays in.

“I-in— in me… fuck- oh my god— please… please, cum in me. Make me full again, p-please…” He begs, clenching his walls around you to push you over the edge, his own orgasm nearing.

Seeing him covered in his own tears, sweat, blood and drool fills you with nothing but pure ecstasy knowing it’s all because of you. The most appealing, ravishing man being a slutty mess right beneath you, begging to be bred and full of your cum, does feed too much into your ego. No one can do anything to take you away from him now, because you’re wrapped around his fingers as much as he is around yours.

“Anythin’ for ya, doll.” You chuckled, thrusting a couple more times before shoving your twitching cock deep into his guts with a moan and releasing your load. Jason mewls, his hole throbbing and squeezing down on you as he throws his head back, tainting his abdomen once more.

Riding out both of your highs, you let out a raspy groan and kissed his lips again, Jason weakly reciprocating due to the overstimulation. His body trembled hard, mind almost shutting down from the exhaustion and too much euphoria. “So good, doll. Took me like a good fuckin’ boy. Fuckin’ amazing.” You praised.

Jason could still see darkness in your eyes, the murderous devil, but there’s a hint of happiness he didn’t recognize before. Love and adoration filled your expression despite the violence engraved in your soul, and Jason finds himself smiling against your lips lightheadedly.

He whispers your name like a forbidden secret, then a curse that completely binds you to him; “I love you.”

You could get used to this, you suppose. There’s nothing more poetic than violence meeting love — two opposites can’t coexist with each other, but perhaps it’ll be forced to. After all, the Devil in you decided he was an untouchable divinity no one shall ever harm, not even yourself, despite its never-ending monstrosity towards humanity.

“I love you too, my Jason.”

When Joker’s decapitated head on a makeshift spear turned up that night, stacked upright in front of Arkham Asylum with blood splattered across the ground in words ‘True Justice for the Tortured Souls’ and a bloody ghostface mask laid aside for everyone else to see, Jason knew he was now in safe hands.

People say, never make a deal with the devil.

They never said he couldn’t love one, did they?

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theyungihven · 2 months ago

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misunderstood ⁕ san

HALLOWEEN EVENT

☆ pairing: demon san x human female reader

☆ genre: mystery, fantasy, horror, smut

☆ warnings: mentions of blood, sacrifice, death and themes of faith and religion

☆ word count: 1.7k+

☆ synopsis : as per the head of the church, you're to be crucified on the full moon night to the lord for your sins, about whom he is aware of and shall not be disclosed. But turns out, you're sacrificed to a demon who can save your town from the famine.

As the hour of midnight advances and the church bell strikes 4 big strong tolls, which echo in the barren streets of the town.

The fog encloses the land beneath your feet, which are hung in the air while your drooly eyes find it hard to stay open due to lethargy from being tied to a board of wood severely in the air.

Your clothes are merely a thin fabric, now translucent as the wet cloth sticks to your body, tracing its curves. You are sure it is the moisture from the cooking storm in the sea but could it be so? Or did the lord decide to lay mercy on his poor devotee?

Pain surges through your body as your skin aches under the tight grip of the ropes which hold you intact against the upside-down cross.

The full moon glimmers on the horizon, as the dark waters reflecting its light make the night romantic for the lovey-dovey couples to feast upon its glamorous view. You notice the giant orb in the sky is husky, comically similar to orange as if made out of the very dirt under your feet.

A strange warmth creeps under your skin, as a touch very foreign graces the supple skin of your waist. It advances, tracing the curve of your spine. You gasp when it presses down a certain spot on your neck. There is something in the stranger's touch, which excites your body as heat coils in the pit of your stomach and your core clenches against nothing.

His faint breathing grows louder as he curls his arm around your waist. It is ever so mesmerising than the tide crashing up against on the shore. Meanwhile something thick and wet, perhaps his tongue, stripes up against your neck as it bathes in the very essence of you.

“I've been granted beauty this time.” The creature whispers in a low growl as his warm breath tickles your neck while his touch still lingers on it. “How desperate are your people to sacrifice their finest sheep?” He says as his hoarse voice echoes in the quiet of the night.

You fail to sight a single one of your folk as if they are aware of tonight's happenings and went early to their peaceful slumbers. Pathetic!

You come to reflect on the creature's words and think how desperate your people are or perhaps were to sacrifice their own blood, to a deity linked with evil and destruction. Yet your heart yearns to save them from the misery caused by the curse because however cruel they may be, one's family is always dear to them.

Nevertheless here you are, bound to a cross on the edge of the cliff you once looked down in your hay years of pure joy and took in the breathtaking view of the shore below it.

The creature finally decides to grace you with the sight of his face instead of lurking behind you. He hovers in the air in front of you as he arches his eyebrows, mimicking a thinking face the Townheads make when trying to understand an abstract piece of art.

You take in his peculiar features which consist of two goat-like horns emerging from on his forehead and curl slightly above the tip of his ears. His sharp nose and facial structure are similar to the men of those French colonies whom your mother considers to be well-bred and brought up.

Certainly, if your mother would have gotten sight of him, her condition might have been less distraught.

“Do you hate them?” He asks in a much heavy tone as if your next word decides whether your town burns down or not.

“Who?” You ask with concern laced in your voice as you find yourself in confusion about whom he is inquiring.

“Your people.” He mutters rolling his eyes with utter disgust, as if your people burned his entire family alive.

“Kind of…” you trail, pulling your lips into a thin line. He decides to advance forward, to proximity enough to consider you both passionate lovers however there is nothing but pure concern and curiosity on his face.

“Why?” He says with something in his voice that you cannot quite understand.

“They call me the devil's child.” You scoff, lowering your eyes because you were unable to look into his hazy ones for too long.

“I do not see why though.” His whisper is low, cold and almost inaudible but you hear him as if you're obliged to.

“It is because…” you take in deep breath “I think differently and go against their ideas.” You answer, raising your gaze and attempting to meet his dark one, again.

“I see… a wild one. I like that. You are to come with me.” He traces his index fingers against your cheeks as he draws a straight line with his sharpened nail and it draws blood at which he mumbles a little oops.

“Where?” You whimper out as panic laces your being in sheer terror of the creature in front of you and the unholy things he might do to you. “I want to go back.” You attempt to shout with all of your willpower but all that comes out is a tiny voice.

“Don't they hate you? You're dead anyway.” He turns away, facing the dark waters and talking in the cold breeze brushing against his half-naked body.

It takes a few minutes for his words to make sense and the dam bursts. “This cannot be...I cannot be dead. I'm alive in my flesh and body.” You shake your head frantically in disbelief.

“That is because I forbid you to see your dead body.”

“But…” you are left speechless at his words.

“I hear no buts.” He turns around and decides to share a glare which sends shivers down your spine. “Oh dear saviour, lucifer! Why do you have to give me this headache” The demon presses his forehead against his palm in distress as he walks around the place.

“Excuse me, sir! Or whatever you creatures use, I don't wish to be with you.” You scream at him and he cares to spare you a glance. There is rage burning inside you as its warmth spreads all over your body.

“It is not your choice anymore. You're tied to me now and I must take you with me in an exchange for whatever they ask me for.” He says roughly, working on the ropes tied across your wrist to bind you with the upside-down cross. “After all, they framed you as a sinner.”

“Bastards. Hope the great Lord of the heavens and the Earth punishes them.” You curse under your breath and you sense him shivering against your skin for a second.

Is he scared of the lord or is it you?

“Yes he will,” he mumbles softly, with his breath hitching, “and he shall because, they killed a young girl instead of keeping patience and begging the Lord for mercy.” His tone makes you gulp hardly as the anger in his tone resonates in your body.

“Do you think it their fault?” You whisper, still afraid of his tone a few minutes ago.

“The head of the church, he has sinned, in the eye of the lord and he is very angry with him.” He says, without any emotions but with a subtle vengeance and unties the last strand of the rope.

You are free now, from the hold of your accusations and your family. But, it feels so strange. Perhaps, it is true, freedom indeed makes you feel awry and discontent. “You cannot help my people?” You plead with him and he does nothing but returns a stern glare as you tug on his hand.

“What am I? Your chaperone?” He yells, drawing back his hand from your hold and starts walking away.

“Aren't you supposed to take care of me?" Your words stop him in his tracks and he turns back to give you a confusing look.

“And that includes, saving your dumb folk?” He chuckles as if mocking your innocence or your whole being.

“Yes, I suppose.” You blurt out, concerned about your people’s lives that you are arrogant enough to avoid your well-being.

“Listen, my love,” He leans in, caressing your cheeks as a ghostly whisper leaves his lips, “you should be grateful they didn't burn you alive and left you untouched for me. For I can take pleasure in ruining your innocence.” His mere presence captivates your essence and you are lost staring at him as if he's one of the wonders of the world, stunned and speechless.

“I asked them to!” Your head falls in dismay as guilt stings in your heart, aching it oh so badly.

“Come at me again?” He questions you as if he didn't receive the invitation yet.

“I asked them.” Your voice breaks as your legs give up and you fall on your knees in front of him, “to be the bait, for I am the sinner.” Tears spill out your eyes, running down your chin as if the walls of a dam have been opened and the water trapped for a century has been let out to flow on its own will.

“Oh dearest, I assure you. You are pure as the forbidden fruit, which hasn’t been touched before. Before...someone was tempted to touch it.” He comforts you in his arms, rubbing your back like a mother caresses her child with love and lulls him to a peaceful slumber.

“Am I tempting you, sir?” Your voice is frail, as frail as a young calf at birth which shivers and fails to stand on its own feet.

“Yes, my darling! You are tempting me to live up to my folk's reputation, but for the time being, I shall not give into it. As I want you to watch that sinner burn on the land, where your body lays. Then worship your holy being under the very moonlight your soul was bound to mine.”

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multch · 3 months ago

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Pig Mask.

Hoffman x Reader [18+] CW: Suggestive content\ Drinking\ Implies Hoffman is here for a job\ afab Reader

It's Halloween and it's the reader's first time at a kinkclub were they run into a mysterious man- dressed head to toe in full black with an interesting pig mask covering their face..

Oh curious stranger, what brought you here?

Tonight is cold and the streets in this part of town run wild. You never found a reason in particular to celebrate Halloween- it was the race for discounted chocolate afterwards which you found more amusing. Never did you expect yourself to have heels on the pavement below you and an ID in your hand on a Thursday night yet here you were.

Barely dressed at 11:35 outside a hardly discreet looking kinkclub.

If it wasn't for the line of skimpy costumes, animal heads and ghost masks waiting in line- Sure, any observer would have mistaken it for just a simple bar; however, it was far from that…

After a week of whining, your friends managed to finally drag you out of bed and out of your shell. God had it been ages since your last relationship! They pestered.

They weren't wrong… However, there's only so much a girl can do when her last partner was as much of a train wreck as they were. What are you supposed to do when your “sweetheart” manages to cheat on you 6 times before you even realized!

Safe to say, all you knew after that was the day-to-day work, eat, aggressively binge watch netflix just to eat again and sleep.

No doubt- if you were desperate you could've handled yourself but I guess the look of all the sleepless nights you held under your eyes finally broke your besties because god where they relentless.

Practically pushing you out the door, you had spent the hour prior having costumes thrown at you, glitter getting everywhere and successfully having your face beat half to death.

You wore a black silk bikini top, a pleated mini skirt and lacy rabbit ears.

Anyone could've mistaken you for a hooker but you're not. You were a sexy little playboy bunny. Duhhhh!

Carefully managing yourself down the steps, you find yourself amidst a crowd of too many people leaving no room between them for Jesus. You understood this club was sexual but you could have never anticipated seeing it to this extent. The room was open with a hallway breaking off to a series of rooms you’d expect people to use but the sheer velocity of makeout sessions against the ignored doors made you second guess their purpose. Towards the back were shelves of bright coloured bottles with a group of seemingly regular swingers sitting in a pack and enjoying a couple drinks. There were staff openly walking around with protection and… toys.. but they were hard to see amongst the dense crowd of creepy rubber masks. You were beginning to sweat like a hooker in church from so many crude acts. So many people grinding and grabbing made you subconsciously wander over towards the less rowdy bar near the back- ignoring a few wild requests with each step closer.

Keeping your head low to avoid your eyes accidentally meeting the sudden sight of an exhibition, you sat down- waving down the bartender for a fruity cocktail to ease your nerves

Beside you sat a larger (almost threatening) man dressed head to toe in black tactical gear with a matted and grimy pig mask concealing his face. He had a cold whisky in front of him. You kind of wanted him to take a sip so you could see his face yet still, he didn't. You had no way of seeing where his eyes landed in the room but you could tell his focus was anywhere but at his drink as he perched like a stone statue staring out into the crowd.

After some contemplating, curiosity finally caught the cat. You shuffled one seat over and saw his head turn from the crowd to your attention.

“Got a partner out there I’m guessing?” you chuckled.

“Who in their right mind would go here if they could do it at home?” he joked. Wow! You thought. In shock at his sass, yes, but more at the low growl of his voice. You could care less about his face now. You could already tell he was HOT.

“What's up with the mask?”

“What's the deal with the ears?” he mocked.

He turned back to lift and gently swivel his drink.

You look back at him. He looked back at you.

The silence would have almost been uncomfortable if it wasn't for the audible sounds of moaning coming from the other side of the room making it impossible to take this situation seriously. Exhabitionists.

He was quiet for a few seconds, then sighed. “You haven't been here before have you?”

“How did you know?” You questioned.

“You don't exactly look like… a regular..” he answered. Clearly.

It took you a couple seconds to understand what he was suggesting.

No, you didn't look like a regular.

You couldn’t understand if he was talking about substance abuse in this part of town- cheap thrills with lifelong side effects your friends had already chewed your ear off about- or if it was your costume. A few people wore similar outfits yet the majority of this club consisted of bulky character heads or people holding one beside them as they practically got their mouths chewed off by a partner..

Shaking his head, he proceeded to lift his mask up above his chin and take a long sip of his now room-temperature glass of whiskey.

You stared at his lips as they pressed against the glass. They were plump enough to make you wonder if they would feel soft against your own. How they would feel along your skin. How they would feel sucking deep on your- No! You fought back.

Dirty thoughts were one thing but imagining having sex with the person sitting right next to you is crossing a line!

“Take a photo, it'll last longer” he chuckled, placing the glass back on the bench.

You hadn't realized how long you had spent gazing at his lips that when he finally spoke, it almost made you jump out of your seat.

“Ah! Sorry it's just… I haven't seen who I'm talking to,” You blurt out, “your face..”

You couldn't see his eyes but you knew just then that he was staring right into yours.

“Good thing you’re not going to,” he sighed, “You should learn the rules around here before you fall in- girly, if you wanna see who someone is- you better be taking them to bed tonight..”

The flush that fell over your face was laughable! Bright pink and at a loss for words, The man decided he’d answer the question painted- no, stained across your shocked face…

“Comin’ here dressed in nothing but a pair of ears is risky, lucky you found me in time.”

“In.. time?” you repeated, mumbling.

“Waltzing in here declaring you’re free meat, the wrong asshole could’ve swept you off your feet and done God-knows-what to you,” he groaned, “I’m Mark.”

You sat there, wide eyed and more flushed than ever, “Y\n” you breathed.

You sat beside Mark for a brief moment. The constant sounds of sex and small talk felt like it had finally drowned out as a new wave of confidence overcame you. This was your chance. You shifted in your seat to try to close some of the space between the two of you.

Were you rusty at this, obviously! But you decided to consider the sheer quantity of romance movies you watched like gospel to be ‘training’. This was going to be a cake walk, you believed.

The black, lacey rabbit ears you had been wearing hit this side of his drink with a loud clink! as you slid them down the bench.

“I wouldn’t mind a little fool around if it meant I could see the man behind this mask of yours..” This was super forward. More than usual but you couldn’t shake the yearning of your own curiosity. You had to see what he was hiding under that mask- maybe even under that tight shirt too.

He let out a quick grunt. Watching the gears turn in his head, you looked up at him through your lashes. He seemed to struggle under your gaze a little.

“Look, Bunny- I just can’t. I’m not here for that tonight,” sighed Mark, “You’re a tempting little thing but I’m supposed to be on the lookout for something a little… different..” Just your luck! you were upset to say the least. Your first time hitting on someone since you and your ex broke up and you get rejected.

You gesture over the bartender, at least with a drink maybe you’d feel a little less embarrassed.

You ask for an old fashioned. Before you can pay and leave, his deep husky voice speaks up, “Add it to my tab”

You get your drink and turn your chair to thank him but what meets you instead is a surprise.

Expecting a ratty pig mask, you meet two dark eyes gazing back at you. His eyelashes were low and seductive. His jaw stubbly and defined. His lips just as plump and round yet you now notice the long scar stretching along the side of his face once shrouded in darkness, Wow.

You were now just as curious as ever.

The sound of an abrupt low and grouchy cough snaps you back to reality. “Y\n was it?... I might be a bit.. preoccupied at the moment but that doesn’t mean I wont find the time to teach a newbie like you,” whispered Mark, “Meet me here tomorrow, same time, same place and I’ll teach you what this club really is all about..” He leapt up off his chair and grabbed the black duffle laying at his feet, walking off and disappearing into the crowd. The black mess of hair on his pig mask being the last you see of him. If it wasn't for sex, what could a man like him want from a place like this?

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8momiji · 2 months ago

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Hi! Do you want to play yuri horror visual novels this Yuriween? I have some great recommendations for you.

I’m sure it will cover all you need I have a lot of visual novels ranging from vampire lesbians to vtubers.

I’m sure you will enjoy some of this titles. It’s also free to play. I hope you enjoy some of this games and make sure to support the creators by rating their game.

Welcome to the Execution Hour!

The River Bride

"The River Bride" is a visual novel based on the events of the bridal sacrifices in Ancient China. Players play as Fu Suyu, the current year's bridal sacrifice. Experience how Fu Suyu deals with her fate through accepting her duty, fighting for her life, or even experiencing love for the last time.

Maple: I love historical yuri.

Mama

One day, you’ll thank me. After all… mother knows best.

Today’s the first day of HimeCon, a Yuri convention. You’re attending with your girlfriend who’s a vendor in the artist alley. At the convention, you receive a text that ends up changing… everything.

You find yourself back in your childhood home, except this time, something’s amiss— and you’ve got to escape.

She’s always w̶̨̠̟̳͚̮̫͒͒̏̏̌͑͊̒́̂̈̀̓̒͘͠ā̷̧̠͎̤͖̝̠̯͎̎̇͒̋͑̾͑̑͂̂̽͐͂̄͘̕̕͠͠͝t̷̢̙̦͖͙̹̪̠̳̰͛̓̇̀̂̾́̉̍̈́͌̇̔̑͝ç̷̥̮͓͔̣̆̀̆̔̈́̈̀͋͛̓̈͐̕͝h̵̢̧̹̲͇̭̥̰͎͖͇̎̓͒̎̂͑̽͒͑̓͗͗̕̕͘͜͜͝͠͝͝ͅi̸̛̝̳̳̠͇͍̓͒̈́̑́̒̓̊͐͒̆͘͝ͅͅñ̶̢̡̨͓̥̞͉͓͚̞̞̞̲̤̹͙͍̙͛̋̏͗̍̽̇̒̅͊͜͠ͅg̸̪͇͋̓͋̍̈́̇̽̿̑̋̏̏̈́̋̾̋̃͘ͅ you, isn’t she?

Maple: Everyone should be allowed to have one kill count in their life.

Oto-hime

Shimako, a socially anxious office worker, escapes the pressures of her company's beach retreat by fishing alone, only to stumble upon a trapped turtle by the shore. When she rescues it, Shimako is mysteriously whisked away to a hidden underwater palace, where she meets Oto-hime, a breathtakingly beautiful but enigmatic princess. Drawn in by Oto-hime's charm and her lavish hospitality, Shimako soon realizes there is something unsettling beneath the princess's kind façade.

Maple: I want to be in a toxic relationship. I totally didn’t sneak my own game here. I want someone to gaslight me.

Underholo

A group of girls are hoping to run a successful VTuber agency so that they can chill out together for the rest of their lives but, unfortunately, the VTuber industry is secretly rigged by an underground syndicate called UnderHolo.

With your expert managerial skills, bring your very own VTuber Agency to the top of the leaderboard!

Maple: I still want to be a gay vtuber playing gay games everyday with my gay vtuber friends.

Shut-in Vampire

Oh no! Mayu’s in a pinch! She’s woefully behind on paying the rent, and her scary landlady, Miss Himemiya, has issued an ultimatum. Mayu needs to earn ¥100,000 by the end of October, or she’ll be kicked out!

Being evicted from her home would be bad enough, but Mayu has a secret: she’s actually a vampire. Mayu hasn’t been a vampire for a full year yet, and the church is keeping close tabs on her to ensure she’s been behaving herself. According to the stone-faced Sister Juriel, it’s the church’s standard policy to execute all vampires without a fixed address, lest they start roaming the streets causing chaos.

Maple: Where can I send her all my money?

End of the World

~The year 6666, October 31st , The Demon of Wishes was awoken underneath a monster extermination company~

You are Remoryn, the Demon of Wishes who's been sealed away for 4000 years.

After being released, the legend of the 3 heroes, the holy weapons, the Halloween party surrounding you, and the disappearance of... her... made everything feel overwhelmingly strange and unfamiliar.

On top of that, you're being held captive by a person named Jeok-Ah.

Who wishes for...

the end of the world

Maple: I will end the world for you.

Dead End

Closing Notes:

Watch Girls Band Cry

Maple: I'm not asking.

#yuri #visual novel #horror #halloween #indie games #yandere #vampires #girls love #girls loving girls #sapphic #yuri recs #toxic yuri #yuri vn #yandere core

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try-set-me-on-fire · 2 months ago

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I was tagged by @iinryer and @eddiebabygirldiaz for fuck it Friday yesterday, and Saturday can be Friday if you want I think, and Kaitlin shared Eddie seeing ghosts so sticking with the theme: here’s the start of witch Eddie! Which is actually the third part of werewolf buck and Bobby and the devil… it’s Halloween season babyyyy

Since I’m a day late in place of tags I’m just going to ask you, dear reader, to share your spooky season wips or favorite fics or headcannons or etc etc if you want! I’d love to hear about them!

The thing about it all is that Eddie’s never been particularly good at being a witch. There are fundamental skill sets you need to deal with magic, and he’s always been lacking in all of them. When he was seven — sometimes too young for the magic to show up, but definitely an Age — his favorite game to play pretend was baseball. He’d stand in the backyard and throw empty pitches from imaginary gloves, run around bases that didn’t exist. It had made Ramon laugh — hot pride in Eddie’s stomach, twisting around with its rarity — and call out “I can take you to the ballpark, Edmundo, there’s no need to Imagine this.” Abuela had shushed him, though there was something a little worried about her eyes.

“Practical,” she’d called him. “A practical boy.” But years later when she’d coo-ed and awed over Adriana and Sophia and their intricate games of princesses and monsters and astronauts and deep sea diving, he’d come to understand what she probably meant — kindly, his grandmother loved him — was that he just wasn’t particularly imaginative, the word damningly and correctly uncapitalized.

Faith, he tried so hard to be good at. He knew all his prayers, said them when he woke up and before he went to bed and at dinner and all through church every Sunday. Some of his other friends, his cousins, the other little boys who fidgeted in the pews and looked longingly at the stained glass like they might be able to see the sky outside, they always complained about being dragged to church. Eddie never minded, though. He liked when they all got to sing, he liked that everyone he knew was there, he liked that he knew all the words. A part of something. He liked to be a part of something. But then his abuelo had died, and abuela was going to move out to California to live near her daughter there, and he’d really thought about God for the first time. “He’s a mean man,” he’d cried to mother, “He’s too mean, why did He do this? Why does He take things away? It’s not right. If I was God-” and he’d been smacked before he could finish the blasphemy, but there it was.

Abuela had come to him later, banished to his room. “Faith is a practice, mijito.” Her eyes were so sad, now. “If you cannot believe the big things, how will you Believe the small ones?” She’d sighed, and kissed his forehead. “Even when it’s difficult, even when it’s trouble. Promise me you’ll try.”

“I promise,” he’d said, curled up against her, meaning it with all his heart, but the next day she’d got on a plane and that Sunday he’d stared at the stained glass, wiggled in his pew.

Wanting. What do you want Edmundo. What do you want, Eddie. Seventeen years old and abuela had lived in California for more of his life than she’d lived in Texas, and he’s been the Man of the House since not long after, and he gets up at five to got to practice before school and he drives his sisters to ballet and gymnastics afterwards, and he works at the grocery store over on Third Street in the evenings and on weekends whenever he’s not at baseball practice again. He doesn’t know when he’s supposed to find time for wanting, for Wanting. He’s pretty good at baseball, but not good enough, he’s never going to make it anywhere. He doesn’t mind the store, but making $5.25 an hour to mop floors and let blonde women with expired coupons yell at him for the rest of his life fills him with just slightly more dread than when Ramon takes him around the oil company offices, talks to him about business school. What do you dream, Eddie? Nothing in particular. What do you want, Eddie? Something other than this.

He meets Shannon in class or by a lake, he's not sure which he should count. The lake is the first time they talked, the first time he saw her freckled shoulders and heard her hoarse laugh and thought he wanted to get to know her better. He wants to kiss her. He kissed Marnie Phillips at homecoming last year, and it was fine, kind of wet. Shannon’s lips are always dry even though she has a graveyard of chapsticks at the bottom of her backpack. She smiled at him when he brought her a new tube from the grocery store, cherry flavored. When he tells Ramon he’s going to ask her out when they see each other in 3rd period English, Ramon looks over his glasses at Eddie, eyes stern.

“Be careful, Eddie. Young love can be intense. You have to keep yourself under control. You cannot Want this girl to like you.”

“Am I supposed to want things or not?” Eddie had snapped — cheeks red at the word love when really all he was thinking about was maybe making out at the movies — because of course he wouldn’t, using magic to make someone do something they don’t want to do is horrible, and he thought he was doing pretty okay winning Shannon over the old fashioned way. He was grounded for his trouble, but Shannon had laughed when he told her about it, and agreed to go out with him once his punishment had lifted.

Shannon wanted easily. She was on the school newspaper, she wanted to study journalism, she took the bus to Austin one weekend to talk to the professors at UT, see what their school paper was like. She had an after school job at the movie theater, and saved most of every paycheck and talked about how she’d decorate her apartment when she moved for school. She wanted to tell stories that were important, she wanted to change the world. Eddie only wanted as much time with her as he could get before she left to live a bigger life than he could ever picture, but then there were two little lines on a white stick, and the two- the three of them forever, and all he wanted was to get away.

And even if he’d had a better Imagination, even if he had stronger Belief, even if he knew how to Want without ruining everything, the last thing — Intention — would always trip him up anyway. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Abuela had done it so easily, Believing so strongly that what she Wanted was true that the whole world twisted itself around until it became so. But Eddie always thought that the last step — Intending the change to happen — was more or less admitting the thing you Believed wasn’t true, and his magic would always fall apart at the finish line. He got a little better at it in the army, because working with his hands made a little more sense to him. Packing gauze was a physical action he was taking to tend to a wound, something he was actually doing to help all the Wanting and Belief along. People under his care healed a little faster maybe, got less infections maybe. He was never entirely sure what was him, what was magic, what was luck. He was untalented (unTalented). Whatever. He could do his best anyway. He’d decided to stop thinking about it so much.

And hadn’t the universe had a big old laugh about that one?

Now, Eddie stands in his kitchen, and what he wants — damn the capital letter — is for Buck to pick up the fucking phone.

#fuck it Friday #and his hair was perfect

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forthegothicheroine · 3 months ago

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In 1752, [Salem Village] finally became independent of Salem Town after decades of trying. The name they were given had no local connection nor any real meaning: Danvers. Anything, as long as it wasn't Salem. A new name, a new beginning. Salem, to them, was a history best forgotten. "When I was growing up in the 1950s [said archivist Trask], it still wasn't considered proper to talk about the witchcraft. It was thought to be shameful. Every institution had failed in the community, the church, the political system, the courts, and even families." He then gave me an example. The parsonage project attracted national publicity during the excavation, so they started having local school groups coming to witness it and learn their history. Trask was bringing one of those school groups in to see the site when two elderly women across the street- he gave me their names and then asked me not to use them- shook their fists at him and said "Why are you bringing this up?"

J. W. Ocker, A Season with the Witch: The Magic and Mayhem of Halloween in Salem, Massachusetts

#history #books #a season with the witch

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fire-emblem-drabbles · 2 months ago

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Paradise Lost

Pairing: Eden x reader

Description: You weren't gonna give Bailey any of your hard earned money, not this week. Thinking you'll fare better in the woods than town this time of night, you head there. Your plan was to stay in the caves by the lake, and figure out a better situation in the morning. You don't make it that far.

Rating: Not sfw

Content Warning: fem reader with fem parts, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Guns, chasing, kidnapping, restraints, dub con/non con, first time, yandere , predator/prey, a disgusting amount of pet names honestly, as always ask to tag

Word Count: 5282

Notes: I wanted to get this out by Halloween, obviously that didn't happen. I've had this idea for a while and the draft since *checks* August 2023, apparently. It's not even the oldest one I just live like this! Eden may seem ooc but I was having a lot of fun so I just ran with it.

Bailey was out of his fucking mind if he thought he was gonna get any of your hard earned cash. You work your ass off every day, foraging in the woods and growing anything in that pitiful little garden by the orphanage, and he thinks he can just take your money now? As if. You wouldn’t let that happen.

Today was the promised day for the money. You couldn’t even remember how much it was, only that it was too much and you wouldn’t let him bully you into complacency. However… that did leave you out, alone, as darkness was slowly closing over the town. You didn’t exactly have a place to crash, either, so as you slowly walk down Domus street you try to consider your options.

You could walk down to the hospital and stay in the waiting room? They might shoo you out if you were caught sleeping though… Maybe you could try calling Sydney? But he was probably still at the church… and it wouldn’t be right to bother him. He probably wouldn’t have the heart to say no. You could break into the massage parlor and rest there as long you were out before they opened. But you had been hoping to pick up some shifts in the future, so that probably wasn’t the best idea…

Where did that leave you, though? Even if the summer air was balmy and warm, there wasn’t a chance in hell you were waiting on the streets tonight. And there wasn’t much you could do with your time and you weren’t quite scared enough yet to hit up the strip club for work. All that was left for you were the woods that had already given you so much. You fancied yourself better in a fight versus a wolf than another person anyways.

So with mind made up and confidence in your step, you head from Domus street into the woods, passing by Gwylyn’s shop and further into the welcoming trees. You always did feel more at home here anyways. You can’t help but smile as you pass by some of your favorite foraging spots and there’s a part of you that kind of wants to do a little now but you push that aside.

In the forest proper there wasn’t that many fantastic spots to rest. But then you recall the set of caves by the lake. Hopefully this late at night your schoolmates were done messing around out there. Plus, you knew a shortcut there to! It would be no problem, especially since you don’t have school tomorrow. So with new hop in your step, you begin to move that way, unbothered by the new darkness around you as the forest seems to come alive.

The sounds of insects and birds comforts you, even when you can hear the occasional wolf call in the distance. You’re already close to the lake when you pause in your step. You can hear rustling ahead, so you duck down to see… a foxboy, looking to and fro as he digs up some bird eggs. You don’t fancy yourself as someone super sneaky but you can’t help yourself, carefully sneaking forward; eyes not on the precious bird eggs but his fluffy tail. You never wanted to pet a tail more than this one…!

The foxboys ears perk up at a sound, and you stiffen. You were so close! But as he quickly turns his gaze to you, he frowns and speaks. “Trying to catch me off guard and steal?”

“N-no!” You sputter, surprised he’s even bothering to speak to you when he easily could have taken his goods and ran. “I um… you looked very soft, I was sneaking to see if I could manage to pet you a little…” You admit sheepishly to him. The foxboy changes in demeanor, turning to you with a grin.

“So you just wanted to get close to me?” You don’t like how you can see the glint of his fangs when he grins. You try to back up away but with you still crouching, the fox is able to leap on you and pin your prone form to the forest floor. “You should have just said so human, I’m unmated…” He murmurs leaning in close to you. Panic starts to seize you as you struggle in his grip.

“Not what I meant! Let me go please please…!” You try to raise your knees to shove him off you but this foxboy is stronger than you anticipated. Your every move seems futile as the foxboy quickly works to take off your clothing. You can’t help the scream you let out, desperation passing by your lips. You’re too far out for Gwylyn to hear you, though. No one could save you from this…

The foxboy digs his nails into your soft skin as he rips away your pants. You close your eyes as tears start to prick at them from the pain. You take a deep, shuddering breath to stop yourself from crying before a thundering nose rings out, blinding the dark forest a moment and clearing your running thoughts for a long moment.

As everything seems to settle, you realize it’s the unmistakable noise of a gun shot, and it has the foxboy skittering off faster than you can even open your eyes. You’re shaking, struggling to sit up and pull up your pants at the same time. In the dying light, you can make out the vague figure of a person, shotgun still smoking in their hands.

For a moment, neither of you speak. You aren’t sure if you should thank them, or start running yourself. The air is thick and uncertain, and you swallow lump forming in your throat as you look up at the person who saved you. Would they prove to be an actual savior, or just as bad as the beast before them?

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing out in the woods so late at night?” His voice is low, gruff. Even as he lowers his weapon, there’s an undeniable edge to him. Something that demands to be respected.

“Trying to stay out of trouble,” You start, eyeing his dark figure carefully. Thankfully, your pants aren’t entirely destroyed and you’re able to wear them properly, to stand tall and wary in front of your new company. “What has you saving strange girls in the middle of the woods so late?” You ask back, dusting forest debris off yourself. Trying to stay calm, casual. Hoping for the best in him.

“Was hoping to do some hunting tonight.” You don’t like the way he smirks, the way he shifts his weight from one leg to another and cracks his knuckles in his hands. “Think I’ve found the best prey these woods have to offer, anyhow.” Your throat seizes as he says this. You don’t think-- can’t think you just move.

But where is there to run? Your wellies hold up under thundering footfall but you can hear him behind you, hear him laughing as he follows suit. You can’t help but wonder if he would follow you towards town. Or if it would even be safe? There’s so much to consider, so much to avoid, the world around you quickly growing darker and darker in betrayal.

You’re coming across the river, you can hear the rushing water promising you freedom just ahead. If you could swim across, hell even jump in and just let the water take you, you’re sure your pursuer wouldn’t follow. You just had to push a little further, want it a little more, to run, run, run!

That is, until, you feel his weight crashing into you, feel your body crumple under his as he grabs you from behind. The sound of rushing water is so distant now, behind the sound of your own running blood, of your labored breathing and drumming heartbeat.

“Aren’t you smart,” He coos, grunting as you try to wriggle out from under him. But he’s stronger than you, happy to pin you down in the dirt and whisper his victories in your ear. “Trying to lose me in the river, eh? If only you were a little faster…” He tuts softly. Gods, even through your clothing, he could feel how warm you were. How soft. A prize well worth the chase, no matter how short the hunt was.

“Pl, please.” It’s difficult to cough up the word, not when he’s still leaning down on you, applying pressure directly on your overworked lungs. “I, I just…!” Oh goodness, were you crying? “I, I never… I haven’t…!” You can’t even finish your sentence, hiccups threatening your words until a sob racks your body and cuts you off entirely.

“Oh darling,” He almost pities you, but the rush of blood that went straight to his dick makes it hard to think. “Saving yourself for me?” He can’t help but growl as he leans in closer to your neck, taking a moment to truly take all of you in. He had been looking for someone like you. Someone soft and sweet and innocent, someone he could make into his perfect partner. Someone who didn’t know how to fight back.

“...S’pose least I can do is make it special. We’re close to home as it is.” You feel your stomach drop as you hear a belt being undone. You can’t help but close your eyes and whimper, expecting to feel the heat of his body that much closer to you. Instead, you feel warm leather wrap around your wrists and gasp out as you’re unceremoniously lifted and tossed over his shoulders.

Held over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, you have to give your mind a moment to catch up. You could see his shotgun bouncing along his back as he walked, unbothered by your weight. You could feel the ache beginning to start in your shoulders and elbows, forced at an awkward angle where your arms are tied behind your back. You feel your lungs start to settle into normalcy as you can finally breathe again. When you find your voice again, you can only ask “...Home?” The word feels hollow on your tongue. You don’t even know if you have it in you to fight back against him. It all felt inevitable at this point.

“Your new home.” He corrects with a smile to his tone. “Our home now, I reckon.” You decide to continue on in blissful silence as you he takes you farther into the dark of the forest. Not much time seems to have passed as the forest begins to clear out. As he moves forward, you can see dark shapes that aren’t trees or bushes, nothing you can make out now. Your not left long to wonder as you’re brought indoors, and placed down roughly on a bed.

The cabin is well lit, but sparely decorated. You can’t hardly take it in before your yanked closer to the man. Holding you by your bound wrists in one hand, he places another binding on you with his other; a collar, complete with a leash, that he wastes no time wrapping around the wrought iron frame of the bed. You were truly trapped and at his whim now. When he finally speaks again, it seems to spark you out of your stupor. When had you begun to cry so much? You could hardly see his face through the blur of them.

“I’m gonna release your hands now.” The look on his face is stern. There’s a deep crease between the lines of his eyes, and you don’t know if this man has ever worn something other than a frown on his face. “If you’re a good girl for me, this can be nice for both of us.” He places his large, calloused hands over the tie on your wrists. “Can you be a good girl?” His whisper might have meant to been seductive or calming, but it sounded grating in your ears. His deep tone promised nothing good for you.

“I’ll... be a good girl for you.” You dare not raise your voice above a whisper; you don’t move as you see him grin slightly, see a flush come to his face. You don’t even move as one of his hands comes to cup your cheek, wiping away stray tears.

“Good girls get to feel good.” He slowly unbinds the worn leather belt. He’s watching you closely, but you still don’t move, even as your wrists are freed. He looks you over as the belt is tossed aside. “Why don’t you lay down for me, sweetheart?” His pet names make you feel sick. He rubs your sore wrists, even as you move roboticly into place on the bed for him. His hands pet along your soft body, ogling you through your torn shirt and moving to look you in the eyes again. “You really are a sight for sore eyes.” he sighs, so content. You wonder if you’re the first person he’s shared this bed with. Wonder if you’ll be the last.

“Why are you doing this?” Your words seem to surprise him. They surprised you too; he was already getting ready to tear your shirt the rest of the way off your body, but your words stop his movement. “Y-you don’t have to. I-I can still be good for you, but we can… we can…” Your words die down as you take in the darkening look on his face. One last, pathetic attempt for mercy. One that is quickly quashed.

“Oh, darling.” He looks at you; looks at you all soft and sweet, and at his mercy. “You’re gonna be good for me, or you’re gonna see what happens to bad girls.” He frowns at you, as if it were obvious. “And don’t you want me to be good to you for your first time?” He looks at you expectantly, an eyebrow raised. You blink once, confused. But soon you realize; he wants you to play along. You could be pathetic, you could be weak and scared. All the more excuse to comfort and coddle you; you had to play your part right, or he would play his wrong too.

“P-please be nice to me. I’ll be good, I promise.” He likes it when you beg. He likes it when tears spring to your eyes and you go all soft and pathetic for him. Wanted to be the predator to your prey. “Just don’t hurt me.” Wanted to be the one to protect you, too. The best of both worlds, it seemed.

“And I won’t, honey.” He coos, leaning in close to your face. “Just as long as you take everything I give to you.” You find yourself nodding, too scared to speak when he’s nose to nose with you. At that, he smiles; it’s ill fitting on his face. He looks too calm, too serene.

Its worse, perhaps, that he wants to talk you through it. “I gotta get you out of these ruined clothes now, baby.” He’s starting to breath heavy, eyes growing darker with desire. You can only nod and watch as he uses his brute strength to rip open your shirt, tossing it to the side. Your bra is thankfully, treated much more gently, slid from your body until your breasts are bared open to the hungry gaze of the man before you.

He takes his time admiring them. His touch is soft, almost reverent. Far too gentle for what this is; the pads of his rough fingers catch on your soft skin, but it doesn’t stop him. Doesn’t keep him from palming your flesh, and watching with wide, breathless gaze as your nipples harden under him. “You’re such a treat.” You think you might just be, from the way he’s all but drooling over you.

Perhaps you were made to be consumed.

And God, does he ever savor; his touch moves south, ever slow. You wish he would get it over with. Wish he wasn’t so careful, that he would take what he had obviously won already. But he doesn’t; he traces formless designs along the soft dip and curves of your body, reaching the hem of your barely together pants. He lets out a heavy breath through his nose, catching your eyes. “You’re lucky I got to you in time. Gonna treat you so much better than that beast could have.” Would he, though?

The foxboy would have had the decency to make it quick. Would leave you alone after abusing you. Wouldn’t force you to look at him through it all. He wouldn’t pull down your pants with such reverence, with some sort of sick look of love in his gaze.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good.” His voice had taken on a husky tone, gravel and desire taking up space in his throat as he sees the dark spot on your panties. “And look at you, already bein’ good for me and getting nice and wet.” He pets your pussy, running his fingers over the soft cotton, taking in the shiver that passes through your body. He has his eyes on his prize now, though, and with it so close he can’t help but move fast, tearing your panties off you in one quick motion.

Laying before him, wide eyed, naked, and so, so afraid, you finally find it in you to speak again. “W-what’s your name?” It’s stupid. You shouldn’t care. You should be finding a place far away in your mind to hide while you let this happen. But you can’t run from this. Can’t run from his thumb rubbing circles on the top of your thigh, can’t hide from the drumming of his fingers on your hips. If he’s going to do this to you, if he’s going to keep you here and do so much more… You deserve that much.

“Eden.” Its entirely out of place-- for here, for him. If this was anything, it was paradise lost.

Eden is much quicker in removing his own clothing. A small mercy, perhaps; you felt suffocated in the anticipation of it all. But all too soon, the both of you were naked; Eden, hard and wanting over you, small and trembling.

“Shh, darling. I know…” He coos, scooting in close to you to pull you in a kiss. Its wrong; soft, wanting. Why does he bother with the theatrics? Why won’t he just take what he wants from you, and get it over with? Instead, he goes so achingly slow; tender touches that drive heat down where his fingers lay. His kiss is so full of longing your teeth ache from the feeling of it. “I’ll take such good care of you.” He pulls your legs apart, pushing his knees between them. The starting of a home between your very ribs.

“Protect you,” His fingers glide over your bare cunt, barely there. Were you with a man, or a ghost? What had happened to the bravado of the strong hunter that caught you? “Provide for you…” He teases your entrance with two fingers, collecting your arousal and swirling oh so gently. “Let me take care of you.” Again, he leans in to kiss you.

This time, you kiss back. It can’t have been good; your eyes are closed, screwed tight so you don’t see that love struck awe on his face and you can still feel yourself trembling, trying to move your lips against his in a way you think might please him. You have to be good for him. You have to.

“You are taking care of me,” Your voice is still soft, so afraid to speak up when you can feel him knuckle deep in you, fingering you in a careful, controlled way.

“Then relax for me,” he laughs softly, eyes moving from your face two the way your pussy clenches to his fingers. “You’re so tight, baby. You gotta relax if you want it to feel good.” He coos, those rough pads of his fingers rubbing at your g spot and having your gasping.

“I-I just…” You take a deep, fortifying breath. In. Out. In. Out. Could you manage to relax? You open your eyes to look at him, but he has the same look on his face. Obsessive, full of desire and something you can’t quite read.

“I got ya, pretty girl. You’re okay with me.” An airy chuckle leaves him as he looks to your face. “You can relax with me.” He promises. You try to. You really, really do.

You close your eyes and just try to focus on the feeling of it; lazy movements of his fingers, in and out of you. His big, warm, hand, resting on your thigh, sneaking over to your pussy to brush against your clit. It sends a jolt through you, has you gasping and clenching on his fingers and opening your eyes to look at him.

“That feel good?” He laughs, the sound almost cruel. You nod slightly, unsure if you even wanted it to feel good. You just wanted it to be over with.

“Use your words, sweet girl. You gotta tell me when it feels good.” You can’t help but whimper when he pumps his fingers and rubs your clit in tandem. You keen and chase the friction by bucking your hips, but he suddenly stops. “Told you, good girls speak when spoken too.” His warning is light, mirthful. It was a game right now but that could very quickly change. You swallow thickly.

“M-more, please.” You look up with big, wet eyes. He smiles, pleased with your quick compliance, and continues at the same pace as before. “Faster, Eden.” Your hands had remained glued to your side most this entire time, but now you’re tempted to grab his wrist, to grind against him for some sort of relief.

“That’s a good girl.” His voice is a growl, the tone deep with his desire. You feel him scissor inside you, pushing his long fingers in and thrusting quickly. You just had to focus on that motion. Focus on the electric feeling welling up inside you and chase it. Grind against the delicious feeling of his deft fingers rubbing your clit and just let go--

“I think you’re good and ready now.” It’s a near full system shock as he retreats his hands from you. You hear yourself whine loudly, before sensations come back to you and you open your eyes. Eden has a shit eating grin, even as he brings his fingers up to his mouth to taste of you. As you take deep breaths you dare a look between his legs. His fingers were nothing like what he was packing between his legs-- it was too big. He was too big.

Towering above you, as he traps you between his wide knees. He pushes your legs open wide, wider to accommodate him. “Relax just like I told ya too honey. It’ll be okay.” He reaches to grab your hand and you might had puked if you weren’t so scared. He wanted it to be romantic in every sense of the word, fitting his big fingers through yours with one hand, and holding his cock in the other. “It’s gonna feel a little uncomfortable at first, and I know you don’t like talkin much,” he chuckles, his head flush with your entrance. He looks into your eyes, making sure you hear him. “but you gotta tell me your okay, or if I need to stop.”

Why did it have to be him? Someone so accommodating. You might have had a shred of dignity left to argue with him (to fight back) if he had been mean. If he had hurt you, if he had just taken you by the river like the beast he was trying so hard not to be. But it had to be special. You, had to be special.

“Okay.” You know he won’t move until you tell him too. Perhaps he could hear how fast your heart was beating, or maybe see how your chest was rising and falling in your labored breathing. “Y-you can put it in.” Stupid girl who couldn’t even speak without stuttering. Of course he was going to treat you like a doll.

Somehow, he finds it in him to go slow; he sinks into your welcoming heat with a loud hiss. “Fuck, baby. You’re gonna be the death of me.” You don’t how far in he is, don’t dare to look as you seize up and scrunch your face. It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it might but it was still uncomfortable. “Oh baby, you gotta relax.” He laughs as he sees your face. He squeezes the hand he holds again, his free one now coming up to cup your cheeks. “Let me see your eyes, pretty girl.” Like the obedient thing you are, you open them.

“Feels weird,… Eden.” You shift uncomfortably under him. Its not enough to deter him, nothing would be at this point, but it does soften him. He likes it when you call him by his name. Must make him feel closer than the two of you really are.

“I know baby, it’ll feel good soon though. D’you feel like you could take more?” He lets out a heavy breath through his nose. How much he was holding back for you, you couldn’t be certain. You bite your lip, and decide it would be better to get it over with.

“Slow, please.” You had never felt so small as you do now. But as he pushes more of his length into you, you both gasp. You grasp on to his forearm, clench his hand as he pushes. You don’t tell him to stop.

It’s uncomfortable, the feeling of being so full. He must have bottomed out, from the way he’s panting heavy and looking down at you with half lidded eyes. “Honey baby,” You open your eyes again, looking into his. “You feel like heaven, pretty girl. Please, tell me to move.” He grunts out the words, looking for any sign from you.

“I still need, need a second.” You take a deep breath, whimpering as you shift a little. He hisses again, gripping your hip tight a moment before lessening his grip.

“Let me make it better, baby.” He’s quick to move his hand from your hip back over to your clit, rubbing small, quick, circles on it. The sudden friction has you gasping and involuntarily clenching around him, the both of you groaning at the sudden feeling. “Shh, I know honey.”

“S-slow, please. Slow down.” You keen and stress again, until Eden slows his movements, circling your poor clit with more deliberate movements. At this you take a deep breath, and close your eyes.

“Aww, my poor girl.” He coos, watching you. “I think you’re ready, aren’t you?” God, he sounds desperate. He probably is. Even if you aren’t quite ready, Eden was pretending to give you the choice.

“O...okay,” You grip the bed, taking a big intake of breath as he starts to pull out of you. Slowly, until just his head sits you than back in. You just had to focus on the sensation; of his fingers, starting to pick up pace on your clit. Of his cock, dragging against your pussy in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant. You just couldn’t look at him. At the way he held you like someone precious, how his eyes held such tenderness and concern and desire.

“Look at me, darling. Need to see you’re okay.” He pants and you unscrunch your face. When had you gotten all wound up? “Oh there’s my pretty girl.” He grins and laughs softly when you look to him. He’s picked up the pace, hand leaving your clit to hold your hip in place as he finally takes his prize. “So wet for me, so good.”

He’s starting to lose himself, like the beast he is. Thoughts of gentleness are all but abandoned as he takes and takes from you. You can’t help the soft noises and moans you make; if you were good, this would be over soon. He would take what he wanted from you and it would be over.

Until the next time, of course.

“E-Eden, I’m close.” You had been focusing so hard on that little bundle of feel good in you, you failed to realize just how brutal Eden had gotten. Slamming into your hips, bullying his cock into your virgin hole again and again. Struggling to maintain his pace, eager to feel you.

“Me too darlin’, it’s okay. You can cum when ever you want.” He was out of breath, leaning over you and looking down at you before devouring your lips. This time, he is consuming; he steals your lips, your breath, your very thoughts with the want and hunger in his kiss.

You gasp in surprise as your orgasm hits you, moaning into Eden’s mouth and clenching your legs around his waist. At this, he groans, barely pulling from your lips to stutter his hips once, twice, into your welcoming heat and cumming into your poor pussy.

You want to stay in that blissful moment. You grind against his spent cock, eager to chase the little after waves and hide from the upcoming moment. But Eden merely lets out a soft groan, pulling from you slowly and carefully, to your chagrin.

“Shh baby, there’ll be more to come.” He chuckles at your little whine. You come back to yourself, breathing heavy and looking up at him with big, wide eyes. You were covered in a cold sweat, could feel his cum in you and cooling on your inner thighs.

God, that really happened. He was still there, looking at you. You could feel the weight of the collar around your next, his eyes watching you. You were stuck here with Eden. You didn’t even have it in you to question him as he settles down into the bed next to you, happily pulling you into his arms. He seems to tire quick, sighing in content as he wraps his arms around your waist, and rests his chin in the gap between your head and shoulder.

“You’re gonna like it here, promise.” He seems to grow softer before rest. “Just have to get you use to life out here. It’ll be rough-- but we’ve got each other.” You close your eyes and try to ignore him. Rest would be your respite-- tomorrow, you could face this growing problem.

Tomorrow, you would face the trauma of being kidnapped. Tomorrow, you would deal with the consequences of losing your virginity. Tomorrow, you would see Eden’s face in the light of day and you wouldn’t even be able to hate him. Yes, tomorrow, it would be so much worse.

But tonight, you are tired. Tonight, you can pretend he’s someone you love. Tonight, it was all okay. Because you were good, you were sweet and cute and pathetic and everything he liked. And if you could continue to be just that, you would find a way out of this fine mess.

“Oh, and darling?” He hums the words in your ear, as close to a whisper as his gruff voice can make. “Don’t think I ever got your name…”

You pretend you’ve fallen asleep. Perhaps the only thing worse than his deep voice calling you those pet names, would be him calling your name as he looks at you with that lovesick gaze. No, you are already asleep; Eden sighs but doesn’t try to wake you. He readjusts against you once, and than mutters.

“Guess I’ll see in the morning…”

#Eden x reader #dol x reader #dol eden x reader #m eden x reader #degrees of lewdity #Eden the hunter #once again being outed as gross #this is fine though #not sfw #dead dove do not eat

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