#hell I fell prey to it as well

[alertarchitect]

Sorry if this meanders a bit, I'm writing this as the thoughts go through my head early in the morning running on maybe 3-4 hours of sleep, tops. I do have something I want to say here, though, so if you want to see my rambling then please continue.

I used to feel terrible about missing out on live events, both in-person and online. Like I can't support a creator whose work I enjoy, especially the less well-known niche creators, as much as I wanted to. But I had a realization last night...

My best friend and I both really enjoy the work of WayneRadioTV and his friends, and last night he did a livestream involving a social game the two of us play - Tower Unite, of you're curious - where viewers could get involved in some capacity. I'm not fully sure, though, because despite the excitement, I had something else going on; an online date with my boyfriend.

See, I got him Halo: The Master Chief Collection on Steam as a part of his birthday present, both because he was interested in it and because I wanted to go through the games and share with him what is unironically one of my favorite sci-fi franchises out there, despite the reputation it has as a "bro game" with all of the toxic bullshit associated with it thanks to it pioneering online console multiplayer and the, rightfully deserved, reputation that brings with how early-mid 2000s multiplayer lobbies were. It's a way of showing him something that I genuinely adore as one of my more consistent hyperfixations, and sharing with him a part of what has made me, me.

And that's where the realization came in. Yeah, it came about because of me having something else going on, but honestly I don't think I would've had the energy for something as intensive as a high-energy livestream like that without some adverse affects to my mental state last night with everything I currently have going on. So, here's that startlingly simple realization that should've happened far sooner, as it would have helped me immensely in our current capitalist hellscape of subscriptions and content churn and all that other bullshit - you don't have to experience something immediately, or even within a similar time frame as others, to enjoy it just as much. Just because I was too young to ever see some of my favorite bands live at their peak doesn't mean I'm "less of a fan." Just because I'm not binging every show that catches my interest doesn't mean I like them less than someone else.

The time at which you enjoy something, and your method for doing so, does not determine how much you like it.

I think that is honestly an important message we need to spread around now. We have all of these games with FOMO-based systems, their battle passes & shit, all of these movies and shows that get released and stay up for a couple months before getting dropped as a tax write-off (looking at you, Warner Brothers, and how you treated all of those Cartoon Network shows we adored and your fuckery of discarding Wile E. Coyote vs. Acme for tax breaks), all of this relentless content churn. It's the reason we get burnt out so hard on things we used to love - instead of having a world where we pace ourselves, and enjoy things in a way that still lets us enjoy it afterwards, we still have this mindset leftover from the days of only getting maybe one new episode per week of a show, or maybe 2-3 big movies a year, or being fine waiting for sequels to games instead of demanding them to be released immediately - watching things as they were released. Before the explosion of streaming services due to the pandemic, that was more sustainable. You got a bit of new stuff on regular or semi-regular intervals. You had a chance to savor what you saw, to process what happened, and to theorize and work on those theories for fun. Now we get so much, so often, with the expectation of something new every week not being a new episode of a show, but a new series entirely to binge. Things appear, get talked about, and then get discarded more quickly than ever. Hell, the original foundations of this site, the fandoms, don't even last anywhere near as long anymore as the bulk of people find something, engage with it for a short time, and move on. It's to the point where the only fandoms you really get to see stick around like they used to are the ones that already existed - your Trekkies, your Whovians, your LotR nerds, and even the ones that only came about a relatively short time before all of this content churn bullshit, like the Undertale, Homestuck, and Critical Role fandoms. Now the years-long communities like that are relegated to the existing works, the old reliables, and literature fandoms like The Locked Tomb where the very nature of it necessitates longevity thanks to how long it takes to write a novel.

It's relentless. But it doesn't have to be.

We live in a world that prioritizes this content churn, but y'know what? Fuck that. Fuck these big companies that try to sell you a monthly fee for what was once a one-time purchase. Of course, try to still support smaller, indie creators where you can - small-medium size streamers, those YouTubers who make video essays that take so long to release they have to rely on fan contributions in between them to survive due to lack of ad revenue, smaller film productions, etc. - but don't feel the need to do so when you can't afford it, either in terms of how much energy you have (like how I would've been absolutely fucked had I attended that livestream I mentioned at the start of this due to the high-energy nature) or monetarily. Hell, enjoy those big shows and movies too, but what matters most is that you don't - or at least shouldn't - have to enjoy them at breakneck speed.

Pace yourself. Give yourself room to breathe. Take some time to enjoy your content, and to have fun with it, goddammit! There is such a thing as too much of a good thing. Hell, if you're someone that derives enjoyment from waiting for all of a show to be out just to binge it, go ahead - but maybe you don't need to binge-watch something new every week. It gets tiring. But at the end of the day, it comes down to this:

Leave time for the discussion. Yes, enjoying the content is fun, but picking something up and then moving on almost as quickly misses the point of why we love these fandoms so much. The content churn gets in the way of us getting to do our thing of talking about our passions, theorizing about them together, infodumping about them to our friends. Give yourself space to talk about it. You don't need to see every livestream from that streamer, you don't need to watch all 10 hours of that new Netflix show in a day and then watch another one the next, you don't have to watch every movie you're interested in like a marathon of back-to-back productions, you don't need to beat every level of that video game in your first sitting. And that's okay.

[merakidoll]

gojo fell prey to the great cooking and fat ass his new neighbor had. he would peak out of his window just at the right time to squeeze the cum out of his cock whenever you walked out of your home.

he knew about the large age gap you two had. hell, he knew about your kid as well, he would watch when the father came to pick them up for his week, wondering if this was the week he would be able to finally get you - feel you

“m-mouhhh i can’t” he whimpered his cock starting to hurt from the excessive amount of cum that he has been producing. to be older your were making him look like such a bitch, and he loved it! his limp dick immediately rose when you hands wrapped around him again the long acrylics, clacking together while you hallowed your cheeks gobbling gojo’s dick down

sucking nosies came out of your mouth along with a lot of saliva. you liked giving messy head, making it nasty.

you licked down all the way to his balls putting each one in your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. the whole time gojo’s tearful face was red, scrunched in the feeling of being close and his ball feeling so heavy.

“m-mommy cummm shitfuck! gonna cum” with a mouth full of balls a giggle erupted from you setting the young college boy off the edge. his cum came out slow, globs sliding down his all the way to where you still sat with his balls in your mouth.

the next day after making gojo pass out on his bed with cum all over himself - just from head. you knocked on the door with a plate of cookies for him and his roommates acting as if nothing happened

[thefiery-phoenix]

Hello! Is it ok if I request Yandere headcanons for Gitae kim? It’s ok if you’re not ok with it! Also just wanted to say that I really love all your Yandere content!

YANDERE GITAE KIM HEADCANONS

Freaking hell, he creeps me TF out but why does he look so good, it's just unfair

Please, for the sake of your own sanity, RUN. Just RUN. That's it. Or at least, run as much as you can since he'll end up finding you anyway since he's the leader of a freaking Cartel and the son of Gapryong Kim after all and is a complete sadistic beast in the form of a man. It's rare that he would ever develop feelings for someone and even if he does, he'll be too egoistic and arrogant and proud to admit it, he'll treat you more like a pet of some sort to be precise. But you're HIS little pet, that he loves in his own dark twisted way. It doesn't matter how you meet this deranged flesh eating cannibal here, the second he sets his eyes on you and his mouth curves upwards into a smirk, that's when you're a goner and you might as well just kiss goodbye to your life and freedom

It was a usual day for you and you were walking back to your house after a long tiring day. You put on some earphones and walked down the alleyway, humming to your favorite tunes feeling the cool breeze against your skin. You tried to ignore the men lurking in the alleyway with beer bottles and cigarettes strewn on the ground as they looked drunk and intoxicated while their lecherous gazes landed on you, leering at you and making all sorts of lewd perverse comments about your body that made your skin crawl. You put your head down and didn't want to get into some kind of confrontation which was the last thing you wanted, when one of them ended up grabbing you by your wrist and you screeched on top of your lungs and thrashed around for all you were worth, pleading with them to let you go as tears streamed down your cheeks and your neatly combed hair was now frizzled and became unkempt with a few of your hair strands falling into your face. One of the men ended up striking you hard across your face as you whimpered in pain and clutched at your now stinging cheek and trembled. Before one of them was about to tear off your shirt, in the blink of an eye, the man's hand was now on the ground leaking crimson as the man screamed in agony and fear and you felt your heart stop beating when your gaze landed on a raven haired guy with blood splattered across his well toned muscular chest and had a black leather jacket with a cruel smile etched on his face as he watched the man fall to the ground, whimpering at the sight of his severed hand

What the man did next would remain ingrained into your memory forever. The stranger with the axe swung his axe around and the head of the man who'd been tormenting you now lay on the ground, his crimson blood painting the gravel of the ground crimson as he cut off a chunk of his flesh and bit into it and tore through the meat like an apex predator. At this point you didn't know if you were safe even after being supposedly saved by this man in front of you as his eyes landed on your whimpering and trembling figure and he smirked sadistically. "Relax little girl, I'm not going to eat you...unless you want me to'' he spoke as his eyes surveyed across your features. You reminded him of a scared vulnerable little prey, a weak little lamb that he could take advantage of and the mere thought of it just excited him as his eyes glinted with malice. Before he could even say something else, your fear consumed you and you ended up blacking out and losing your consciousness. You were about to pummel straight to the ground before he grabbed you by your waist and held you in his arms as he let out a soft chuckle, amused that you fell for him already which did give him a bit of an ego boost

You were so weak, so helpless and so fragile like a little doll that he would love to have in his grasp. He wonders how you'd react if you'd see him in his full glory while he beats up people and murders them on a usual day, you wouldn't even last a second without trembling and crying like the helpless little lamb that you were, which was cute in his opinion. "Looks like I'm takin' you home, eh?'' he said as he hoisted you over his shoulders like a sack of flour and fished out your ID to find your address and made his way to your house. You were quite surprised when you woke up the next day in your own bed and you felt your head was slightly groggy as you massaged your temples and sighed to yourself, secretly glad you were away from that cannibal. You made your way into the living room only to find the same guy napping on your couch, with blood still splattered over his chest as your eyes widened and your face paled and you let out a shrill screech of bloody murder. "Damn it woman...can't even let me nap after I saved you...'' grumbled the guy as he looked at you and his eyes narrowed slightly. He enjoyed watching you squirm and fidget nervously, he could see you were torn between trying to be a good host and thanking him for saving you yesterday to contemplating passing out again. "You know...I expect some sort of thanks from you little girl'' he said as he got up from your couch and strode over to you, his massive frame towering over your body as you gulped nervously

"I-I could give you money if you want...please don't kill me'' you whimpered. "Silly naive girl, who said I wanted your money...you're interesting...I'm keeping you with me'' he said with a smirk. You tried to make a run for it when he grabbed your hands and pinned your arms above your head and cooed at you condescendingly, "Well now that's just rude isn't it? You should thank your savior properly. Now don't make this hard for both of us...be a good little girl for your savior, would you?" he asked as he patted your cheek a few times and caressed your cheek as he lifted you in his arms yet again and you let out a nervous squeak. "Don't you think you should get to know me or something before you literally kidnap me?" you asked him as he looked at you with an amused smile on his face. "Plenty of time to do all that get to know you crap. I'm Gitae by the way since you're so insistent on introductions and crap and this isn't a kidnapping...I'm taking what's mine'' he said as he carried you out of your house

What he wants, he gets. That's it. He wasn't going to waste a single second without taking you back with him, of course, he could have kidnapped you in the night but the element of surprise was what made things more interesting for him. Your cute little reactions to whatever he did riled him up so much. No way was he going to let you go now. The next thing you knew, you were sitting in a black car with him next to you and a few other people who had tattoos as you couldn't believe what you'd gotten yourself into. You silently let tears stream down your face and you looked out the window. Gitae wrapped a black jacket around you since you were still in your night clothes as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer to him. Don't get fooled by his actions though, he's as unpredictable as the weather

If you thought Samuel or Eugene were messed up psychopaths, allow me to introduce you all to the poster boy of being a RED BANNER. He's obsessive, manipulative and won't hesitate to literally gaslight you. While he won't physically hurt you, the same cannot be said to those around you unfortunately. He wants your attention on him, he wants you to cling to his arm like the helpless little doll that you are and look at him with those wide eyes of yours, being all pliant and dependent on him. Whenever you squirm when he touches you he just finds it so amusing and cute, he can't help but put you on his lap when he has his meetings with the men from his cartel while you have a pink collar around you pretty little neck that has HIS name on it so people will know you belong to him. As if those love bites and hickeys on your neck, thighs and arms aren't a testament of you being his. He likes marking you wherever he can, you're his property, HIS doll. Of course, anyone who looks at you for a moment too long or if their gaze wanders to a certain part of your body that belongs to him, he's just going to gouge their eyes out like knife cutting through a slab of butter. And then he'd kiss you on your soft kissable lips possessively and aggressively like a dying man needing air, running his hands over your body till you're literally gasping for breath, in front of everyone else to show those losers that they won't ever be able to have you as their minds are now ingrained with the dire consequences of laying their eyes on Gitae Kim's girl

Whatever hopes you have of escaping from him, it's best to get it out of your mind before he ends up killing and eating one of your dear loved ones right in front of you. You're his little pet, he won't tolerate any form of disobedience from you and he'll tell you how it's your fault they're dead and it's all because you dared to leave him. Your punishment is getting handcuffed to the bed till you're allowed to walk. It's best to just accept his advances towards you because there is no escaping from this deranged psycho at all...

[thephantomsdream]

so I've been reading real published romance books and they cannot fill the void that ao3 and company do fill, but they did give me an idea. ok, lmfao, hear me out. (I've had this in my drafts for way too long, i decided to release it because why tf not)

content: alien!141, soulmates!141, abduction, intergalactic human trafficking, space shit; very vague idea of anything ever; probably made up alien names; writer is at work while dealing with annoying costumers so it's rushed and dumb.

imagine:

Good ol' you, in your house, unaware that in the deep, vast universe, trafficking also existed. Not long ago, a reptilian race found out about our warm bodies, interesting features and intelligent yet primitive brains, and started to abduct and sell men and women to rich buyers. It was good business, especially considering our side of the universe wasn't even aware of extraterrestrial life, so they couldn't even guess where they disappeared! The treaty and all intergalactic laws were vague about us. "Let them be" meaning "Let them fuckers figure their shit out, lol idk".

Well, as you can understand, the Sheh'deauz (lmfao stay with me) decided to in fact not let us be. So back to lovely you, yeah?

Home alone, playing videogames or something, when suddently you see some flashes of light out the window. It was weird considering it wasn't raining but you remained calm, as you assumed maybe a storm is approaching? Mainly, you couldn't give a shit but the moment you heard scratching and hissing outside your door, you panicked. Long story short, your house slowly started filling with an invisible gas that just made you pass out, but you did see your door opening, same weird blue-white light emanating from under it as it did, and a scaly leg entering your home as you fell on the floor.

You figured, as the genius that you were, that you were, in fact, not dreaming as you spent many hours (days? felt like days) in a cage. Very oddly technologically advanced. In another strike of genius, and of course, after seeing your kidnappers, you figured it was a spaceship and you were in some deep sci-fi shit. (maybe after laughing and asking them where are the hidden cameras. i would...)

After throwing tantrums and having the ugly multi-colored creatures mock you and hiss at you, you kinda gave up and sat by the very human bed you've been given and allowed time to pass. You were given food every so often, a toilet nearby, water at your disposal. But you feared for your life.

Well, let me tell you something. You have the luckiest misfortune of all, really. Or maybe, just maybe, things are meant to be this way. Maybe it was all meant to happen like this. Allow me to explain.

In another corner of the universe, four of the greatest warriors of the Intergalactic Army frowned at a holographic screen. A female alien, older, still beautiful, ethereal looking, skin creamy white with some lavender edges and striking blue eyes was frowning back.

"You're fucking kidding me." Their captain said (in a different language than ours but your writer here is multi-lingual, don't worry), getting closer to the screen. She just nodded, rubbing her forehead.

"Where is that again?" Asked another.

"So like—" a third one, this one with a distinct accent compared to the others, tilted his head incredulously. "They're our cousins genetically?"

"You can say so." She groaned. "The Council decided to not touch that part of the galaxy. They are being observed. Fucking hell! They were going on the right path."

"If they don't destroy their own planet before." The captain muttered, voice tired and coarse. In his many, many years lived, he's seen it happen again and again. Greed and stupidity almost whipped their race, so he's been following the Terrans close-by, as close as a mere Intergalactic Task Force Captain (stick with me lmfao) could follow.

"So what's the plan?" The tallest one asked, mask made of what others assumed was one of his most dangerous prey's skull was placed on his face.

"We give them hell." Captain commanded, Laswell nodding.

"Stay close, at the outskirts of their galaxy. We intercept any package and find their buyers."

"What do we do with our lil cousins then?"

"Eliminate any witnesses."

Shit went down really quick. You figured they were preparing for something as the guards by your cell somehow summoned some advanced looking chairs from the walls to strap themselves on and hissed at you mockingly, as they've done before. You just sat in a corner, by the bed, and wanted to cry. You were going through all stages of grief every few hours and it was getting exhausting. You were just now starting to understand how dire your situation was and how little chances you had of going home.

They turned off the main lights and a thousand scenarios crossed your mind. It was as if they were bracing for something. You frowned as you saw the guards tense as some alien hieroglyphics appeared on a holographic screen. It looked... like a countdown... You grasped the bed, trying to brace yourself for something. And good that you did because it felt as if the ship collapsed with something.

It basically shook you off to the ground, and while you'd think this was supposed to happen, you quickly realize it wasn't since the guards unstrapped themselves from the chairs and started shrieking as alarms suddently blared. After that? Seconds and it was over. Two white blasts ended them both, hitting them exactly in the middle of their ugly skulls. You did not hear any footsteps but you saw a shadow approaching your cell, so you scurried closer to your bed and now presumably magic shield that will block blasts that melt alien skulls.

The barriers from your cell unlocked, sliding to the sides and someone jumped in front of you. Someone big, dressed sleekly in black, although you could swear the edges of his frame looked transparent for a second. It was big, yet had the complexity of a human so you stayed locked in place, big scared eyes on the person pointing a big son-of-a-bitch gun at you. You heard it growl and speak something shortly, and the hairs on your whole body pricked.

World stopped for Price as he cracked another neck, just after locking eyes with the leader of this "cargo" ship. He was about to take a step forward to gently guide this person towards personal enlightenment by confessing all the information they needed, even if it would be involuntarily, when Soap spoke... well, growled just one word in their comms.

"Mate."

[sexydoffyman]

Wassup! Loved that fluff post that had Alejandro in it can ya write some more about him?

HOW HE MET YOU

genre: fluff

characters: Alejandro Vargas

A/N: If anyone is reading this can you comment something. I think I might be shadowbanned so I just want to make sure.🐍 Anyway hope you like it!

He seems big and scary most of the time and he is well aware of it. He likes that people see him as a very dominant dude who can always find a way. The way he walks, the way he talks some people just crumble under him.

He always has a grin on his face when he sees that another younger soldier gets scared. But when he comes home his whole personality changes.

Suddenly that scary tiger turns into a silly house cat. He lets others know that they should prey for their life when they even so much as brush shoulders with him. You? You can push him into the bed while complaining about how he’s overworking himself. You can give him a small smack behind the head and he wouldn’t give a shit. Of course, he doesn’t let you hit him (not like you ever would)

He is always the big guy in his job so when he gets home he can get some rest. He likes it when his partner is a bit dominant. He’s attracted to danger and when he saw you yelling at a customer at your job for being a dick he fell in love. He asked for your number immediately.

Yes, you treated him like the customer. You scolded him like you would a little kid. While this was all happening Rudy was watching Alejandro be so obviously in love. His eyes have literal hearts in them.

He tried so much, came into your shop every day and every day the result was the same. One day he got held up at work and wasn’t able to go to your shop. He fixed it the next day. He didn’t expect much until you cussed him out again. This time not for asking for your number. No, this time you yelled at him, asking why he wasn’t there yesterday. You told him that he made you worry like hell.

After you closed your shop he was there waiting for you. He wanted to apologise for making you worry. After you talked together he realised he’s locked out of his car. You invited him to your home to stay the night and he never left since.

[parkermunson]

Something New

Summary: Eddie tells you he wants to try something new, but so do you. [1.5k]

T/W: Smut!!! [18+ only!!!!!], Choking, Handjob, Switch Eddie, Fem reader

A/N: Another choking fic??? Hell yeah.

The room was quiet around you. The seconds turning into anxious minutes that felt like deadly hours. Each moment waiting was another wasted second. He was probably doing this on purpose, building your emotions so far up you'll be unquestionably obedient by the time he opens the door. The silence filling the space around you was deafening, the blood pumping in your ears getting louder with each heartbeat.

You couldn't play into his game, you won't. He wants to "try something different," then that's what you'll do. But it will be your way. You've waited weeks to build up the confidence, months of preparation and research, most of which was just memorizing every move he made.

The footsteps in the hallway were almost too quiet to hear if there were any other sounds to be heard. His eyes peering in the crack in the door looked like glowing orbs from a wolf waiting to devour its prey. He stuck his tongue between his teeth as he opened the door with a smile. "Think I've made you wait long enough...," his voice gravelly and deep. The smile turned venomous, his sultry charm immediately giving way to his dominance. He drew closer to your sitting position on the bed, a ringed finger gliding up your jawline to your cheekbone. Your body was quickly becoming jelly under his height. "Tonight... I want to see how many times I can make you cum before you use your safe word." You could feel your insides flutter, the thought alone sent warmth and wetness to your cunt.

"Actually," your voice shook and your cheeks reddened at the lack of confidence, "I want to try something different."

"Oh?" His eyes widened at you, waiting on your words. The few ideas you brought up became staples in the bedroom. It was you who suggested using handcuffs the first time, and now they were basically a part of your wardrobe behind closed doors.

"Yeah," the nerves finally subsiding. Your voice sounded like honey with the new found confidence bubbling inside you, making your body move of its own accord. You sat up from the bed, moving to stand beside him. He was still taller, but the look in his eyes flickered at this sudden change. Your fingers travelled up his sides to the collar of his shirt, the gentle touch sending chills through him. His eyes bore into yours, an unspoken challenge of power. You held his gaze, unwavering. "Strip."

The twitch in his eye presented his internal battle. He's never been told what to do by a partner. He was always in charge. But the way his cock kicked at your command told him this was worth trying.

Just when you thought he was about to put up a fight, he grabbed at his shirt, ripping it over his head and moving down to fumble with his belt before his shirt even hit the floor. His jeans and boxers fell in a heap around his ankles, the belt thumping against the floor below. He stepped out the pile, leaving his hands in fists at his sides, waiting on the next order. "Sit," you commanded. He sat on the edge of the bed without hesitance. The man who took control so easily, fell into the role of servant just as fast.

You placed a hand on the sheets next to his hip as you leaned over him, your lips just barely grazing his. "Tonight, I'm in control, and you're going to shut the fuck up. Got it?" He nodded slowly, his lower lip falling prisoner to his teeth. There were no thoughts of switching the situation on you. He was at your mercy, and all it took was a few simple words. His eyes were wide with anticipation, and something else you couldn't quite place. You knew Eddie well, but this was something new. Intimidation, perhaps?

Your other hand walked your fingers up his bare thigh starting at his knee. He didn't dare break eye contact as much as he wanted to. The closer your fingertips got to his aching cock, the harder he bit on his lip. His fingers rubbed the sheets below him, the pace growing quicker the closer you got to the location you both desired. Finally, your fingers reached his hip. The soft skin a milky white, flushed with his need. You waited a moment, giving him the same treatment he gave you earlier. The silence still brimming around you, ringing in both your ears, only cut by Eddie's heavy breath.

Then you gripped his base, a small grunt rumbling through his chest. You kept your grip firm as you slid your hand up to his tip. His eyelids fluttered. The arm holding your weight up pushed his shoulder, and he fell against the mattress with little effort. He almost looked boneless, putty in your hands. You spit onto his cock, the saliva pooling on his tip and gliding down his length. Your hand gripped him again, tugging with little friction. "I should challenge you tonight. See how many times I can make you cum before you use your safeword." You smirked up at his scrunched up face. He was enjoying this more than he thought.

Your hand quickened on his length, your wrist twisting at his tip. With each flick of your thumb against the underside of his mushroom tip, he jolted against the bed. The sweat forming on his hairline matted his curls and shined against the lights. His chest was blooming pink, the blood rushing to the surface in his neck. He was gripping the sheets beneath so tightly, his knuckles were turning white. The crease in his brows and the little whimpers escaping him fueled your fire. You climbed over him, straddling his thighs, wanting to feel them shake beneath you. His lip was caught between his teeth again, holding his sounds captive.

It was now or never. You placed your unoccupied hand against his neck, pushing with small effort. His mouth fell open at the new sensation. Your other hand never faltering, merely speeding up its pace. A choked out moan vibrates beneath your fingers, causing you to squeeze just a bit harder. He tilts his head back, giving more space to your hand on his neck. The schlick schlick sound of your hand gliding over him echoed around the room, flooding your cunt with desire. You were on your knees over him, your weight resting on his windpipe as your other hand glided over his cock.

A deep inhale and his eyes rolling back were the first cues before he exploded on his stomach, his juices squirting halfway up his torso. The muscles in his belly so flexed you could see them moving underneath his skin. His mouth was open in a silent moan, his fingers gripping the sheets so hard they were on the verge of ripping. You continued your ministrations against him, waiting for his cock to slow down but the fluid keeps coming, covering his stomach in splotches of white. He's shuddering beneath you, jolting with each inhale. Your fist continues until he's finally spent. His stomach covered in his release, threatening to drip to the sheets below.

You release his neck and he inhales deeply, a small chuckle released at the lack of feeling in his muscles. He's never cum so hard or so long in his life. He could've sworn he left his body for a second there.

Waiting for him to catch his breath, you kneeled over him, watching as he returned back to Earth with a deep flush on his cheeks. It was clear he was a goner for the rest of the night. His body still quivering with the aftershocks. He would do anything to have you dom him again after tonight.

[inkyquince]

The idea of Gortash and Astarion being in love with the Durge at the same time is so interesting to me. Because their both fundamentally in love with two different people. Pre-tadpole, Gortash fell for a Durge who was a slave to their urges. Astarion fell for a Durge whos regained autonomy over their mind and now has the ability to choose who they want to be.

This may be a hot take, but idc.

I feel like... From reading everything in game about Gortash and meeting him? He would be so into a redeemed Durge. Like, yeah, slight downside of their morals being a smidge too light now, but oh well.

Dark Urge had gotten free of Bhaal. The one actual barrier between them and also fully going into their plan. Remember, Durge apologised to their father for being so FOND of Gortash, they promised that they'll kill the other Chosen in Bhaal's name, etc. The one controlling all their moves? Their Father.

And they either are/want to be free of him.

Fuck, he's hard. They're so fucking strong and stubborn and perfect.

He uses guile, he uses charisma, he uses everything to get a leg up. He used his body, his joined a gang, all while younger. Now he's here. Nothing he respects more than gaining power and influence without being controlled, if his time in the House of Hope taught him anything, it's that being controlled will lead to being beaten and used and discarded.

Control is what made the Dark Urge so fucking endeared to him in the first place. They're not a mad dog, like Orin. They loose control some times but LOOK at the acts you just played through. They have SO much fucking control compared to what their urges want them to do. Gortash values control so fucking much.

But, just like Gortash, Astarion will fall in love with the Dark Urge, redeemed or not. Even if he remains a spawn, he's so soft with them. He will stay until he can't watch them loose their mind anymore. But ascended? He wants them in his lap, naked and rabid and far gone. He loves them, even as nothing better than a feral dog.

Like.... I think Astarion and Lae'zel and Shadowheart are the ones who will fully love the un-redeemed Dark Urge. Gale, as we can see after the Tiefling Massacre, will stick by you but he fucking HATES your ass for what you put him through. Wyll and Karlach leave. Even if you don't pick the nasty sides in the game, when Dark Urge gives into their... well, urges, they're horrified. Astarion, Lae'zel and Shadowheart, while not ECSTATIC are less incensed about the shit you do. Hell, when you take Bhaal's offer, everyone in the party basically... Says goodbye to the person they loved, EXCEPT Astarion. Even if you break up with him, he says that 1000 years from now, when he's forgotten how to open himself up to people, he shall spare a thought for his little lost mad love.

The fact is, Gortash and Astarion will love the Urge, just in different ways, Redeemed or Not. Hell, if the Dark Urge goes feral, Gortash will still love them properly, I feel. Ascended Astarion, like a normal Tav, will love them as a pet. For the romance of ruling by your side, to bond in blood, to adore you bringing sacrifices to his door like a cat with their prey, Gortash is the dark romance love interest you want.

[letshavedeernnertogether]

'Till nothing's left

the plot is: you came to the Radio Demon with just one request: eat me. Will he take the offer of a stranger?

words ≈ 3.1k

warnings: cannibalism, sexual tension that's turning into a little smut cuz i can't hold myself back, blood and gore, g/n reader, when i say cannibalism i mean a lot of cannibalism, you will be eaten >:)

author's note: is it a special treat for the friday the 13th? who knows... i was in a mood for something gross, but then i became horny, and then i got tired and sad. so we have this. and you have no idea how many times i changed the title (and i'm still not satisfied)

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

Alastor heard a quiet knock at the door, he wasn't waiting for anyone, and sent his shadow to meet a visitor. 

When the door opened you faced a slim shadow with a wide grin and narrow eyes. It slowly tilted its head, looking you over from head to toes. Its grin widened as if it saw something luscious in your form.

“May I come in?” You asked.

The shadow held its gaze on you for a little more and then flew aside, letting you in.

You followed the shadow through the hall, all was wood finished and decorated with deer antlers and heads of animals that fell as a hunter’s prey. The air in the house felt viscous and heavy, it smelled with wood, fur and rich alcohol. You came to the centre of the room, your guide suddenly dissolved, and a tall man materialised in its place. Now in the silence of the living room you stood in front of the Radio Demon himself.

His figure towered over you, casting shadow on you, but his crimson eyes illuminated your face, letting him examine you closely. His large yellow teeth were the sharpest you'd seen in hell, his smile was worse than sinners described you. It lay on his face like a slit, cutting his face from one ear to another, and his ears were on the top of his head. He grinned down at you, and you could hear a soft crackling of static sounding as if from his chest.

“Hello,” He pronounced, the sound of a static voice brushed your ears, making shivers run down your spine. You only nodded in response, feeling that your voice would fail you if you tried to speak with him now.

“Who do I have the honour of speaking with?”

“My name doesn't matter,” You uttered, finally collecting yourself and directing your eyes to him, “I'm here to offer you something, Mr. Radio Demon.”

“Just Alastor, dear,” He waved his hand, “And what is the offering?”

“Eat me.”

Like a curious animal he slowly tilted his head, his ears slightly stood up, a smile showed you more of his blade-like fangs, the shadow under his feet moved.

“Interesting,” He whispered, as if afraid that a loud voice could frighten your ask away, “And what did I do to deserve this, hm?”

You made a tiny step back when he made a step to you. Your eyes shifted, unable to maintain eye contact with the demon as you tried to phrase your thoughts, “It's not just a giving, Alastor. I give you my flesh but you have to know it has some consequences. For you. And… pleasurable ones I suppose…”

“What are the consequences, dear?” He raised a brow, looking down at you.

“I can't tell you but I swear with my soul — which soon will become yours — it won't hurt you.”

“Hmm,” He tapped his sharp chin with his index finger, “And why do you even offer me that?”

You hesitated for a moment but decided to answer the truth,

“It has its benefits for me as well.”

Looking in your eyes, Alastor could hardly read your thoughts. Your look wasn’t empty, though it seemed so when he first saw you. And now glaring down at you, he saw obstinacy in your gaze, and that was more important, the absence of fear. You came to him, offering just one thing — yourself. Corporally and spiritually. And he would be lying if he told you that he didn't find you beautiful at this moment, when all you longed for was sliding into his mouth between his sharp teeth and slippery tongue to bathe in his digestive juices. To dissolve inside of him. To satiate him.

Alastor knew he wouldn't refuse your offer, you looked so delectable, but he wanted to torture you with some questions just a little more as he saw how uncomfortable you were with them.

“And what if you're not for my taste?” He asked half teasingly, half seriously.

You answered in a deadpan, “Dismember me then with your teeth and let me bleed as an unworthy thing. But if I am then eat me. Consume me. Until nothing is left.“

Your eyes looked at him seriously and yet pleadingly. You didn't actually explain why you wanted to end your existence and why in such a way, but Alastor didn't really care. He was hungry. You looked delicious. You came here by your own will, offering him your body to eat. Why would he deny the offer? Why if your blush was so lovely, why if your vein pulsed so delightfully, why if you smelled like dark chocolate, salivating his mouth?

His hands lifted you easily and brought you to the table in the dining room to place on top of it. Your feet hang off from the table, your hands, you didn't know until now, clutched onto the red lapels of Alastor's suit.

“I ask you for the last time,” His eyes travelled down from your face to your neck, to your chest and belly that slowly rose and fell with every deep breath you were taking. Alastor licked his bottom lip, collecting the drool escaping his mouth. His heavy gaze met your eyes again, the hot breath of him burnt your face when he asked, “Will you feed me?”

Without hesitation, looking straight into his crimson eyes, you said,

“Bon appétit.”

A short sight escaped his lips as his smile grew wider. His tongue brushed his lips once again, and he leaned closer to you until his appendage touched the delicate skin on your neck. It traced up to the lobe of your ear, his teeth slightly grazed your skin, you heard his inhales and gulps so clearly, the sound awoke something in you, but you didn't dare to let yourself know what exactly. You just lay, burning from inside out under him, as his tongue licked where you were bare, whilst his hands kept you still.

“Delicious. Really, so delicious…” He murmured against your skin, and you felt how he began to undo your shirt. His palms travelled along your body, his fingertips tapped against your ribs and tummy, his claws slightly broke your skin, and his open mouth slid down to every new wound. His hot lips greedily pressed around the slit, tongue drew circles around the hole, the top of it slightly separated the thin walls, sliding inside, tasting your flesh, and making weak cries escape your mouth. It hurt, but somehow you didn't want him to stop. Alastor was gentle in a cruel act. He tenderly tore your skin up from your muscles, it burnt and stung at the same time, but as if under a spell your senses became dull, and next second his tongue licking up your bleeding flesh felt like a caress.

“Mmmph…” You bit on your lower lip when Alastor sank his teeth deep in you for the first time.

He immediately raised his head, looking at you,

“Too painful?” His lips and chin took the colour of your blood, they slightly glistened, and you couldn't understand why the hell he looked so handsome with your own blood on his face, “You didn't think it would be painless, did you?”

“I thought you'd do it quickly,” You admitted with your weak voice.

Alastor chuckled in low. It was a very dark and charming laughter, “Oh no, my dear! I want to savour the moment. It's not everyday dinner comes to me itself, and not everyday I eat something so good. And you, my dear, are in fact a delicacy.” His eyes looked over your figure, he licked his bloody lips clean, and his hands traced down to take off your trousers and underwear. Unbelievable how you still felt shame and tried to cross your legs to hide your sex, but the clawed black palms stopped you. His shadow grabbed you by your knees, peering at your blushed face, and when you tore your eyes from it, you saw Alastor admiring the view of your abdomen, thighs and…

“Are you gonna eat there?”

“You wish,” He smirked, “But I wouldn't mind having a bite here.”

He bent himself, eyes locked to yours, hands pressing you to the wooden surface. You gasped as his fangs buried in your thigh, and he tilted his head forward, breaking your skin more. You screamed for the first time, Alastor rolled up and closed his eyes in bliss. A satisfied groan was heard from his side.

He retracted his fangs from your thigh, admiring his work: your skin stained with blood, especially dark holes where his teeth went too deep were bleeding, the heavy smell of iron filled the air. Just a little more pressure and he could take a bite from you, your flesh would have been swallowed, a piece of you would have dwelled inside him. But he didn't do it. Because then you would cry, you would be scared, you'd like to take your words back, and Alastor wanted you to of your own free will until the end.

The room was filled with your soft whimpers, with the sound of your deep breaths in and out as you tried to bear with the pain. And these sounds were a peaceful melody for his ears, for in every weak inhale Alastor still could hear the shades of pleasure.

He was starving, but you were the first one in his sinful life who came to him volunteered just to feed him, to please him, and he was, to be honest, flattered. This day would be special for him for eternity, and he wanted to make it the same for you. And though all he would give to you this day would be pain, Alastor could at least try to blend it with delicious pride. He would be speaking compliments, praises and other kind words to show you how much he was enjoying you, for you deserved to know how much pleasure you delivered to him in your last minutes of life.

And he cooed,

“You're doing very well, my dear. Not many act as bravely as you do. You're truly a gem.” His hands caressed your hips and slowly went up with his fingertips slightly brushing your skin, until he gently cupped your face in his palms. He could see big tears forming in your eyes ready to run down your cheeks in every moment. Your cheeks blushed with shame of nudity, and your lips tried to take the form of something that would help you to pronounce a plea or his name maybe. You looked so perfect for him right now.

You in your turn saw a smiling demon hovering over you with a face stained with your blood. His chin, teeth, cheeks, the tip of his nose… Everything was red. Alastor rested his palms on the table, hanging over you, a shadow fell on his face but his eyes were glowing like embers, illuminating both of you with cherry red light. His tongue was licking his lips from left to right and from up down as he tried to collect everything of you what was around his mouth, and in his eyes you clearly saw adoration.

Your heart beat faster, and you parted your lips, taking a breath in. Your own blood dripped on you from his face, some droplets fell on your lips and by a reflex your tongue swept them inside. The sight made Alastor feel the heat, and the fact you didn't wince at your own taste made him lean closer to you.

“Darling,” He purred in low, sending vibration through your limbs, “How about your last wish? I'll do anything you ask for before I eat you up.” His face was now so close to yours you smelled your blood in his breath, and his every exhalation burnt your lips. “My sweet dear, let me please you as you please me. One good turn deserves another.” 

Your eyes roamed all over his face, and Alastor found it incredibly cute. His one hand found its place on your unwounded tight, caressing your soft skin until a little tickling made you slightly quiver under him. That moment Alastor knew that even if you'd ask for something indecent, he would do even this. He never felt attraction to a body, but yours looked so tasty he wanted to have it in every way possible. Of course with your permission. His name was dropped from your delicious lips in a long moan, making Alastor light up with self pride, when his hand slipped to your heat surprising him with its sticky wetness and warmth. Oh, did you really want this?

But your fingers closed around his wrist,

“J-just eat me. Oh… Just.. Until nothing’s left.” You looked at him pleadingly, licking your lips, carefully choosing your words, suppressing your carnal desire, ”I just want to be the only one you treat like that. Just promise me that you will never eat anyone the way you eat me.”

That was your wish, then? Very well. It was strange, but.. To his taste actually.

Alastor retracted his right hand, abandoning your sensitive warmth. He wasn't too sorry for this actually, his stomach ached more than any other part of his body. And after all, your last wish included more intimacy than what he had almost offered you.

To be his only one? To give his all attention only to you?

He gave you a smile that made your blood rush,

“I promise, my dear, you're my only one. And no one will ever experience the same as you will soon.” He lowered his head and you felt a touch to your chest and then heard a sound of a kiss, “Only for you I give my mouth and my body as your new home.”

Kisses and bites fell all over your body like drops of rain during a storm. Alastor marked your arms and your palms, your neck and chest, tummy and hips, your legs, knees, feet. He left pecks on your face and licked the tears running down behind your ears as you were lying, so he let his tongue mark these places too. Covering your body with kisses and cuts of his fangs, Alastor didn't stop hailing you with praises. He told you how beautiful your body was, described how good you tasted, he admired your behaviour and thanked you for coming to him. His words honeyed your ears, and every loving kiss accompanied with a little suck on a fresh wound soothed your pain.

Alastor didn't want to finish his meal and didn't even want to really start it, you were too delicious to be eaten up in a single bite. He wanted to savour you and he tried to prolong the pleasure as long as possible, to keep you in this state between bliss and torture for more. It was such a delicious sight. And the sounds you were making for him…

And when his teeth sunk too deep, and he heard your suppressed cries, he couldn't help his hand to go back to the delicious spot and fondle you until your sobs turned into deep exhales and long moans. You didn't try stop him anymore when he gently fucked you, and you didn't understand anymore whether your cried of the pain or pleasure he fed your body with.

You only wanted him to never stop being such a gentleman in such a gruesome act of love.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ * 

The table was clean. Well, it was clean from your body but not from your blood that still stained the tabletop, ran down the legs and made a dark red puddle on the parquet.

Alastor made as you wished — he left nothing.

Even your soul.

He killed you in the way he thought was the best for you. He believed it was a true act of mercy when he took your life with a single motion in a moment when you reached your heavenly bliss, so your brain didn't realise all the pain Alastor brought to your poor body. And when your body became lifeless but still warm Alastor ate limb by limb, leaving the most delicious parts for a dessert. He ate you raw, not willing to spoil your meat with any other tastes. You were perfect. Just the way you were lying in front of him with your bare soul and body. You were perfect.

The only part of you was left.

Your heart.

He traced with his fingertip along the muscle. When this little organ would disappear between his jaws all the traces of your living would be gone. And only a taste of you on his tongue, a memory of you on his fingers would still be wandering in hell by means of his mind.

But Alastor still didn't know the benefits of your death for you. He thought maybe you even lied to him about this to appear in his stomach sooner. But then there was a question: why? But you were the only person who knew the answer, and now you were gone. Completely.

And nevertheless Alastor was sure that consuming you gave him something pleasurable, just as you promised him. It was like your flesh filled him with something he had always lacked. And he foretasted the moment when your soul would saturate with him to increase his powers, for he knew in the moment he was chewing your heart that you were not just a common sinner. You were something bigger, greater.  

You were something he was sorry that it passed so soon. But he wasn't sorry he couldn't have anyone like you — you were unique. Perfect and ideal. And no one would ever compare to you. Not just to your taste and the tenderness of your flesh. You were more than a tasty dinner and a good deal. You gave him affection, showed him what attachment was. And with your delicacy you showed him that he could be loving too. And that this feeling could be pleasurable.

He wasn't sorry he wouldn't have others, but he was sorry he wouldn't have you. And so, swallowing the last piece of your heart, still sweet and warm, he waited for the surge of new powers, that such a special and worthy thing as you would definitely awaken in him. And then, resurrected in his power and magic, you would live as long as he lived, and as he killed another sinner, he would remember this evening and dinner, and the love you had proven existed.

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

ps: seems like i was a little too crazy... and i think you can actually see how my mood changed while writing

one day i'll return to fluffy stories, but for now i just want... this.

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

See How It Shines

Summary: Spencer gets home from work to find Reader in tears over the new Hozier album.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff and comfort

Content warnings: The masterpiece of Hozier’s Unreal Unearth, me stopping halfway to listen to the entire album, me crying to every song I reference

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: shoutout to anyone who picks up on every song reference I make. I am instantly in love with you.

Spencer had been etched with the weight of unsolved cases and the relentless march of time, and he was forced to call it a night around six. The team had already pulled an all-nighter earlier in the week, so Hotch decided they all deserved rest. Spencer, however, wasn’t tired (he was; it was the late cups of coffee). Nevertheless, he makes it to his apartment door, skipping every other step. As Spencer turned the key in the lock, a soft melody flowed from the other side, haunting him yet drawing him in.

When the door opens with a slight creak, the music only grows. The living room was a sanctuary, bathed in the golden hues of twilight and table lamps, together casting long, ethereal shadows across the aged wooden floor. Plants adorned the walls and shelves. Since you moved in, he has never shared a space with so many simple living things.  His record player, a testament to decades of shared music between him and his mother, spun its vinyl tale. This time it was for you, as it breathed life into the album as you sat on the couch in a nest of blankets.

Ah yes, it was Hozier day. The anticipated album release of Unreal Unearth. His girlfriend highly anticipated it. She had been vibrating as the week drew to a close with five days left, then three, then one. And it was well worth the wait, considering the tears continuing to streak her face as the Irish man begged for someone to not fall away from him.

Spencer set his bag down by the door and proceeded toward the couch with caution as if he were ready to pounce like a predator on prey. Except the end resulted in a tender hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him with a puffy face and snotty nose. It was Spencer’s next instinct to grab a tissue from the end table and offer it to you. Of course, you took it. And even though the answer was obvious, he still felt the need to ask, “Are you okay?”

It was a struggle for you to inhale, so you blew your nose again. "I didn’t expect this to be a breakup album.” The album sleeve was wrapped in your arms, proving to already be a prized possession. The tracklist was organized by the layers of Dante’s hell they fell under.

Spencer gave you a small smirk before placing a kiss on your head. “Well, I’ll go ahead and get started on dinner.” It was his turn to take the culinary reins for tonight. “Do you need anything?”

“I need to know who this woman is, Spencer.” You throw your head back as Hozier hits a high note that neither of you has heard from him before. You stay there as you ask, “Who made this man feel so much pain?”

“You want to fight Hozier’s ex-girlfriend?”

“Ew, no.” Your nose scrunched. “I just want to know how. The power to make a man feel this way.”

Spencer chuckled. He had answers. And he’s happy to not reply with any of them. “I’m making chicken parmesan. That okay?”

You nodded, soon returning to singing about holding a heart like a steering wheel. But you then grabbed his hand. Your eyes are red, and Spencer is sure you’ll need drops before the end of the night. “Did a part of you die the first time I called you ‘baby,’ Spencer?”

Spencer couldn’t help but smirk as he quirked a brow. “Do what?”

“They’re song lyrics.” You let go of him.

Spencer has never fully understood the uproar that comes with Hozier. Then again, no one really flocks to Beethoven and Chopin like they used to. Plus, Vivaldi wasn’t known for belting out in the middle of his pieces and Spencer can at least admit Hozier’s belts ( well, the ones he’s heard so far) tug at him by the chest. He came back to his senses quickly when his mismatched socks landed on the cold tile. He washed his hands and opened the fridge door with his good knee.

Songs of water and knives reminded him he had chicken to wash and cut. And the familiar feeling in his own kitchen gets the tasks in Spencer’s head in order. He could feel the weight of his week slowly lift, replaced by Spencer attempting to chop to the song. It was inefficient. Some songs play shockingly fast for a breakup album. He settled for a more percussion style of noise, making each slice more deliberate as a testament to his meticulousness.

The flour and breadcrumbs sizzled in the oil that mingled with the sight of you matching the pitch of the song and humming where Hozier shouted, caressing the album sleeve like it was alive and needed your warmth. The weight of the lyrics settling in your bones caused your head to fall in shock as a long, high note carried through the whole apartment.

The album played on, weaving tales of love and loss, each one successfully targeting your core and striking effectively. And when Spencer got into the groove of his own routine in the kitchen, he listened to the lyrics as they almost guided him to autopilot, reminding him of the joys that come with his leg around you in bed, ensuring you don’t move anywhere except closer to him. And how the idea of losing that is something he does not care to dwell on for long.

He could keep it together, he thought.

Until his voice soars about the glistening of an animal’s eyes. About the force of love for someone recklessly in the middle of the street. Spencer couldn’t help but feel a lump forming in his throat. It was a visceral reaction—Spencer's sniffle. But it wasn’t unheard.

You turned your gaze toward Spencer, your eyes soft with understanding. You could hear the emotion in his breath and the slight catch in his throat. “Spencer?” You asked.

“I’m fine.”

Your lower lip quivers with a puffy smile. “You’re crying.”

“No, I’m chopping. Chopping while completely fine.” His sniffles continued to give him away (sanitary stations over pride every time).

You couldn’t help but find the situation adorable. You lazily got up from the couch, letting one of the blankets slide off with you, dragging along behind you across the wood floor and then the tile. You carefully put your hands around his waist because safety comes first. You squeeze him, and he laughs a little. For a moment, he puts his left hand on your arm, keeping it there. You noticed how his fingertips were colder than expected as you looked at the cutting board from under his arm. “So basil makes you cry? Is that it?”

Spencer laughs again, diverting his gaze from the record player and clearing his eyes from unshed tears. “Today, it apparently does. There must be some emotional properties I didn’t consider.”

“Nothing to do with an Irish man singing his heart out?”

Spencer rubs his nose on his sleeve. Fuck sanitation right now; he’s about to go through it. The snot is evident. See how it shines, indeed. “Is he really singing about roadkill?”

“Yep.” You sniffle in return as you lay your head on his back.

“Fuck.”

“I know.”

“How does he do it?”

“That I don’t know.” You held Spencer as he let the music hit him. Taking moments to turn from the food to wipe his tears.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Cycles

Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader

TW/Content Warnings: NSFW, Smut, PIV Sex, Heat/Rut Cycles, Territorial, bit of Feral!Miguel, improper use of webs, pheromones, hormones, predator/prey dynamic if you squint, Unprotected Sex, Biting, Scratching, Bondage(?), Breeding Kink (c'mon we all know Miguel has one), established relationship, boyfriend/girlfriend, rough sex, oral sex, blowjob

MINORS DNI: I am not responsible for the content that you are about to read/consume, if you are upset by the themes in this fic, do not read it and scroll on by!

A/N: For context, you are a Spider-Woman who is one of (maybe the only) the few Spiders who have similar powers to Miguel. This is my first Miguel x Reader fic I've ever written, and my first fic ever posted here on Tumblr! (Header does not indicate reader's race)

Earth 7164. New York. Middle of summer.

The scent hit him the moment he tore through the portal. A heavy, sweet, earthy scent that flooded his whole body with a rush of adrenaline. Even the fat droplets of summer rain that fell from the dingy skyline did little to diminish that delicious, mouth watering scent.

Your scent.

His body was trembling as he rolled his shoulders in an attempt to rid himself of the tension that roped its way through his heavy muscles. His talons flexed as he gritted his teeth, each drag of his lungs pulling your scent into his body.

Miguel O'Hara was a man who would claim he had a good sense of control over his urges. He would also say he was a good boyfriend, attentive. A bit protective (some would say possessive).

But, he had been neglecting you as of late, his duties in the Spider Society and ensuring the safety of the universe had kept him away from you these past few weeks, and he almost lost track until he felt that familiar boiling of his blood, an itch that he knew could only be scratched by you.

And he knew that you would be experiencing a similar situation to him, almost parallel. In fact, he surmised you were probably the only Spider who had similar powers. The only difference was that whereas Miguel's powers were (sort of) intentional, and other Spiders were given to them after being bitten by radioactive spiders... You were born like this. They didn't know why. Hell, you didn't know why.

You had the venom (you could consciously control how much you pumped out in every bite), you had your own talons (although yours were a part of your nails, not in the pads of his fingers and toes), the wall crawling abilities, natural web-shooting...

And your cycle. At first having you around was torture on his senses when it would roll around. It would start with your scent changing; the dampness he picked up from between your legs making the blood rush straight to his dick. More often than he'd like he'd have to excuse himself to his private lab to jerk himself off until he felt some of his clarity return.

But it was always just a temporary relief. It only got worse when your breeding cycle and his rut cycle synced up, resulting in the two of you needing to almost be sedated and kept away from each other. (How Lyla kept that under wraps, Miguel never knew.)

And once your dynamic shifted and you started seeing each other, and eventually getting intimate... well. He was positive that Jess or Peter suspected what was up... Especially when he would disappear to your universe for a week or so, only to come back in a slightly better mood, small dark patches peeking out from beneath the collar of his suit, or you would be walking funny or unable to sit comfortably.

Right now, though, those thoughts were shoved to the back of his mind. The only thing he could think of was you. He could smell you, taste you in the air. This was your territory, and he... Could be considered an intruder, depending on your mood.

A male spider waltzing into a pissed off and horny female spider's web during breeding season.

Shaking his head, he took another deep drag of the air around him, the smell of the city mixing with your earthy, almost fruity tones. Your scent was faded slightly, but he could still use it to track you beneath the smog, garbage, and vehicle exhaust.

It's not like he didn't know where your apartment was... But he knew during this period of time you'd be restless, irritable, angry.

And mind-numbingly horny.

Miguel launched himself up, slinging his wrist out and using his glowing webs to propel himself in between the buildings and skyscrapers; leaping, flipping, arching through the sky in a red-and-blue blur.

He knew he was closing in on you. Your scent was all but strangling him, choking the air and what little sanity he was clinging to right out of him.

He should have known you were waiting.

Miguel was rammed into with the speed of a runaway train, the oxygen he so desperately needed ripped from his lungs as he tumbled with a roll onto the rooftop below, landing on all fours as his talons dug into the concrete and tar, leaving deep grooves as he slowed himself.

He lifted his gaze to see you land in front of him, chest heaving, body trembling.

"I have been waiting for you, for almost two weeks." You wheezed out.

"Hell of a way to greet me, querida." Miguel grunted, pulling himself to his feet.

Beneath your mask, he knew your eyes immediately dragged down to the hard bulge pressing against his suit, the hard outline of it sending a fresh throb of arousal straight to your core.

"The kick was a bit much." He said, trying to maintain a professional composure.

But his control was quickly slipping.

"Shut the fuck up."

The short rebuke didn't surprise him.

"Should have been here days ago." Miguel said, swallowing hard at the lump in his throat. "I know that. But--"

You cut him off by lunging at him, hurling your full weight onto him and pinning him down beneath you.

The heat between your legs felt like it melted through his suit, burning the skin beneath and causing a fever to spread.

You raised your fist to bring it down on his face but his reflexes allow him to catch it, gripping you like a steel vice. His other hand gripped your thigh as he planted his feet on the rooftop, rolling to pin you beneath him, his massive frame caging you in.

He squeezed your hips between his thighs, muscles tensing and twitching, breathing heavy. Your free hand reached out and clawed at him, tearing at his suit, leaving a rainbow of glitched out fabric behind, small droplets of blood rushing forth to drip down his tanned skin.

He gritted his teeth at the sensation, the sweet burn sending another wave of heat through his body that made his cock twitch.

You were past talking, past negotiating and being civil. You knew what you wanted, and you wanted it now.

You breathed heavily, gritting your teeth as Miguel gripped your thigh and forced your knee by your head, squeezing the plushest part as his face dragged down to the dark patch soaking through the fabric of your suit.

Using this new position, you kicked at him square in his chest and threw him off of you.

Before he could right himself, you rolled to your feet and jumped off the roof, shooting a web to sling you away from him.

Sure, you were horny and wanted to ride his cock til he couldn't see straight for a month. But he had been gone for weeks and you had been struggling with your own self-care, your measley silicone toys and vibrators barely able to compare with that womb-punching length that Miguel crammed into you, or his skillful and knowledgeable hands rubbing you until your eyes rolled back. But right now, you were pissed.

He wanted your pussy? He was going to have to work for it.

And if that meant playing your cat and mouse game for an hour, building the anticipation and making his cock leak; aching, desperate for a taste of you? So be it.

You played this game for a while, teasing him, getting within arms reach before yanking yourself away at the last possible second, thwarting his attempts to catch you.

Sometimes you liked to play with your food.

But all games come to an end. And this one had an abrupt ending when Miguel headed you off, tackling you to the roof of some abandoned warehouse, pinning you down on your belly, hands above your head.

"Bout fucking time I caught you. Tu pequeño bromista.." (You little tease.) He snarled, leaning down to your ear as his mask dissipated from his head, letting his wavy chocolate hair fall free, damp strands plastering themselves to his forehead.

His eyes were wild, red and glowing; pupils blown wide.

"Fuck you." You hiss, squirming under him.

"Oh, sucederá en, no te preocupes." (Oh, don't worry, it will happen.)

Miguel raised his free hand and brought it down hard on your ass, making you bite your lip to contain the mewl that tried to claw its way out of your throat.

"Look at you, now, hermosa." He sneered, his chest huffing in a small, humorless laugh. "I can fucking smell you from a mile off."

He reached down and cupped your mound, his fingers squishing slightly in the damp fabric of your suit; but once again you deny him a moan, instead biting into your lip, fangs threatening to puncture your lip.

You squirm an arm free and go to elbow him in the face, get him off of you. (Or under you.)

But he predicted that. That's what always got you going when you were in the middle of your cycle. You liked it rough.

His large hand completely encircled your elbow and forced your arm back down. Quickly, he used his glowing, laser-webs to secure your wrists together before he gripped the fabric of your suit with his talons, shredding it as he yanked you over so you were on your back.

Miguel smiled and yanked your mask off of your head, tossing it to the side before gripping your chin with his fingers, putting enough pressure to keep your eyes on his.

"Now... What should I do with you?" He said contemplatively, tapping your cheek with his index finger, making a show of thinking, his eyes dragging over the flushed features on your face, your tongue darting out to wet your dry lips.

"Ah. That's it." He grinned, his slightly askew teeth gleaming in the dark. He grips you by the front of your torn suit and pulls you to your knees as he stands.

He grips the crotch of his suit, and rips at it with his talons, the torn edges doing that kaleidoscopic glitch of colors as his cock springs free from its confines; large, twitching, angry red tip leaking in excitement.

You have to bite your tongue to keep in your little groan, your heart soaking through and dripping out through your suit.

"Hmh." He grunted, annoyed. "I'll loosen your fucking mouth. I've been keeping myself under control this whole time. But now? I'm not going to be gentle."

He gripped your hair, just shy of painful as he dragged your head to his crotch, the tip of his cock smearing his precum across your cheek.

"Chúpalo." (Suck it.)

You finally give in, your hands bound in your lap as you drag your tongue along a prominent vein in the velvety skin of his shaft, earning a deep, rumbling groan from him that you swore sent vibrations straight to your cunt, making you flutter around nothing.

You pull your head back and swirl your tongue around the tip, pulling and tugging as you lap at his slit, eagerly tasting every drop of pre he was giving you before diving in and taking the rest of his tip in your mouth, bobbing your head in a steady rhythm.

He massaged your scalp, his talons tickling the skin under your hair as he encouraged you to continue.

But you knew his calm demeanor wasn't going to last. It wasn't long before he grabbed at your hair with both hands, forcing you to choke down on his length, just shy of blocking off your airway as he fucked your face, the tension and stress from your cat and mouse game coming out as his tip kept shoving at your throat, your nose brushing the dark curly hairs at the base, his balls slapping your chin with every thrust; saliva pooling around his length as you keep your fangs pulled back as you let him use your throat like a fleshlight.

You close your jaw microscopically, fangs grazing the flesh.

"Míralo!" (Watch it!) He reprimanded, pulling your hair roughly to pull you back, his cock springing out of your lips with a wet pop, saliva connecting the tip with the soft pink muscle in your mouth like a weak bridge.

"Be a good girl." He snarled, pulling you back down on his length, barely letting you catch your breath before forcing you all the way down, tears welling up in your eyes and falling down your cheeks as you choked and gagged.

You knew exactly how to lick, suck, and tug at his cock to get the best reactions, the most delicious sounds from him.

You snuck a glance up at him, watching as he tipped his head back with a throaty groan as you greedily swallowed him down.

You moaned around him; his cock throbbed.

You felt him twitch, felt his hips sputter as he gritted his teeth.

"Fuckin' close." He snarled, looking down at you as your eyes connected with his feral ones.

You rocked your clothed cunt on your heel, trying desperately to get some friction to your aching clit. Miguel caught this motion, and held you down on his cock, choking you from not letting you ease off.

"You're not allowed to touch yourself." He said through gritted teeth, pulling your head back with a harsh tug, letting you get a gulp of air before voraciously fucking your mouth again. You obeyed his command, sitting in your slick that was dripping down and out of you, your folds puffy and neglected.

"Fuck..." He breathed heavily, he could feel that burn, that coil about to snap, his blood boiling and rushing straight to the tip of his dick as he felt his balls draw tight.

You moaned softly around him, gagging slightly before that rush of heat flooded your mouth as you worked your throat to swallow every last drop of the load he was feeding you.

Miguel panted, dragging some much needed air in his lungs as he let you pull back, hacking and coughing as your airways flooded with oxygen again. You grin maliciously and bite down on his thigh. No venom of course, but just enough to remind him you were there, earning you a sharp glare and a slap to the back of your head as you licked your lips.

He ran a hand through his hair, and it wasn't but a moment later before he yanked you to your feet, and shoved his tongue past your lips to overpower yours, tasting his cum lingering on your breath as his heavy rut-scent flooded your nose. You moaned shamelessly into the kiss, biting and tugging at each others lips until a burst of cooper flooded your mouth.

Miguel pulled away and licked at his bloody lip, before his mouth twisted into a snarl. He barreled into you, forcing you against a rooftop air-conditioning unit.

His hand reached down as he ripped at your suit, your breasts bouncing free.

Of course you weren't wearing a fucking bra. Probably no panties either. Because you were just that fucking horny and desperate.

He leaned down and took one of your pebbling nipples in his mouth, biting and sucking roughly as you push your head back against the unit, the metal bumping as you do, a strangled cry coming from you.

He pulled back, before delving back down and putting the same torture on your other tit. This time however he pulled back, biting down on the marshmallowy flesh, making you mewl out as his tongue laves over the mark he made.

"Miguel!" You snarl, thrashing your leg to kick at him, your frustration and neglect finally getting to you.

Miguel caught your flailing lim and forced it up, pinning it against the air-conditioning unit with another shot of his webs, before securing your already bound hands with more, above your head.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his hot and heavy breath ghosting over your sweaty skin, before his hands once again swiped and gripped at your cunt, pawing at it like a cat kneading a blanket.

Miguel lazily dragged two fingers torturously slow up your slit, before punching your clit hard through the fabric.

"You've been misbehaving... But I know you're just going to keep acting out until I give you what you want." Miguel sneered into your ear.

You whimpered, arching into his touch as he pulled away, making a frustrated sob at the lack of contact.

You nearly had the air punched out of your lungs when Miguel dropped to his knees, inhaling the scent of your soaked pussy like it was a drug he needed a hit of. He opened his mouth and dragged his tongue up the soaked fabric, before latching on and sucking.

Now this was new. Getting eaten out through the fabric of your clothes. There was too much contact but somehow not enough as he rutted his nose at your clit, sucking more at your folds drawing more of your slick through the fabric.

You thrashed against his webs, trying so hard to roll your hips and fuck his face, but with the way you were pinned, you were at his mercy, especially when he hoisted your free leg over his shoulder. He pressed two fingers against your covered hole as he furiously suckled your clit.

Your orgasm crashed into you so hard you couldn't even manage a scream, your mouth just hung open on a silent cry, eyes rolling back as a fresh gush of slick leaked through your suit.

Miguel smiled against you and tore your suit's crotch open, and you shivered as the humid, summer air made contact with your slick and creamy folds. You barely had a second to realize what was happening before Miguel plunged back in, his nose rutting your clit once more as I sucked at your cream, your slick covering his chin.

Miguel was the best sexual partner you ever had, he knew exactly how to eat you out to the point you lost your voice without even using it.

Just as your second orgasm was creeping up on you, he pulled his mouth away, wiping his face clean with the back of his hand and licking his chops like a dog eyeing a juicy stake.

His cock bobbed against his stomach as he stood, a steady stream of precum dribbling out of the tip and to the ground below.

He pulled your free leg to wrap around his waist as he slid the underside of his cock against your puffy cunt.

Miguel bit down on your shoulder, hard as he forced himself into you with one brutal thrust, pushing the air out of your lungs as he punched your guts through your womb with his cock, spearing you wide as he set a rapid, relentless pace for the both of you.

You uttered breathless pleas, praises, and incoherent mumblings with each thrust; the two of you grunting and moaning in each others ears like rabid animals, Miguel's cock slamming home into your pussy, squelching, dripping, the slap of skin and hips colliding filling the very atoms around you.

Your body screamed, cried, ached for him to fuck you, fill you up to the brim.

Miguel's tip crammed against your cervix in such a brutal way that you swore he bullied himself into your womb with every thrust. It was a blossoming pain that bled into pleasure, quickly bringing you back to the edge of your second orgasm that he had denied you.

"That's it, baby." Miguel snarled in your ear. "Ah... So tight for me. You want me?"

You nodded, whimpering and sobbing into his shoulder.

"Want me to fuck you til you can't walk for a week? Stretch you til all you can think of is my cock?" He said, his voice edging on a gleeful tone as he pants, turning his head and licking at the sweat on your neck.

"Want me to fucking breed you?"

You bite into his shoulder at that, whimpering as his suit glitches around your fangs and you lick at the blood welling up.

He hissed, and his pace became frantic, almost angry as he reaches down and pinches your clit like before, and your orgasm comes flooding through every blood vessel in your body as you jerk mindlessly against him, your pussy crushing down on him, milking him for everything he can give you.

He moans loudly in your ear, snapping his hips up into yours, balls slapping your ass as you cry out, sobs wracking your chest as your vision blurs and the tension rips out of you.

You whimper, and hiccup against him when he forces himself into you one last time, his tip kissing that oh so lovely spot inside as he pumps his heavy and sticky load deep inside your pussy, dripping out of you with each jagged thrust as he fucks you through his orgasm.

When Miguel's hips still, his hand pets at your hair as he kisses your jaw, nipping the skin there as he slices the webs holding your legs and hands up.

"Mmmmh. I needed that." Miguel sighed into your hair.

You grunted in response, your fists gripping at his suit as you pull him down for a hungry and toothy kiss.

"Take me home and fuck me." You demanded.

All Miguel could do was smile, and carry you back to your apartment. The real trick was keeping his cock sheathed inside of you as he swung from building to building, trying to avoid anybody who may have a camera phone...

But honestly? You didn't care.

However...

The two of you did care, a few weeks later.

When two little pink lines appeared on the stick in your hand.

"Fuck."

[yanderevampireknight]

Takuma Ichijo Headcanons

You accidentally run into him and he profusely apologize [after you do, but he says it's his fault. He wasn't paying attention] and he asks what you're doing out so late when seeing your uniform

"I.. uh fell asleep in the library"

He smirks a little, before looking down at your books, "Well, you should be more careful. Who knows what could happen to a pretty girl like you."

Before you can remark on what he said, he's gone

You take over his mind after that. He doesn't know why, but he thought you were cute, especially for a human

It would be very, VERY frowned upon for him to be with you [Because you are human] but Kaname likes a human, Yuki, so why can't he like you?

There is a part of him that tries to stay away, because... Well, he's a vampire and you're a human- The natural prey of vampires

^ It's his way of trying to protect you

But he can't. You have the same draw to him as Purebloods do. He can't help himself. And everytime you blush around him makes it harder for him to stay away, because he rationalizes that you love him as much as he loves you- You want him too. Why else does he keep seeing you around?

He’s always very polite and respectful around you, but his thoughts are literally anything but

Would betray Kaname for you

Hell, he’d leave his whole life behind if you asked

You think he's very nice and sweet and he's always very helpful

He's very sweet on you

He loves how skiddish you are whenever he sneaks up on you

You see a lot more of Kiryu, because he picked up on Takuma's new found interest in you and wants to keep the Vampires as far as from the humans as possible

Zero is not nice to you and will go to the library or where ever you are before the Nightclass leaves their dorm and wake you up/remind you it's time to head to the dorms

Takuma realizes he's seeing less of you and knows Kiryu probably had something to do with it. At first, he thinks it's for the best, but then he really starts to miss you

So, he ends up leaving the dorms during the day/earlier than usual, just so that he can find and talk to you

You're like a drug for him and he has to have you

[koji-haru]

Time Travel AU Part: 18

It could be so easy; just reject the guy, it wasn’t like Adam also felt the same. There was no way he felt the same. Besides, he knew Michael; the guy was simply too nice to even think of taking offence at a rejection. Really, this was such an easy problem to solve. There was no Lucifer or Lilith or maybe even Even to consider. Nothing and no one was stopping him from doing whatever he wanted. No one but him. And maybe Amora too.

“Three nights. Then I can give you an answer.”

Instead, Adam had asked for three nights to sort out his thoughts. What thoughts? Even he wasn’t so sure at this point. All he knew was that he somehow couldn’t just reject the angel’s affections. Did he want it? Well, he always liked attention. Did he deserve it? That one would be harder for him to answer. He would like to say, “of course he deserved everything good that came upon him, he was, after all, the first man!”, but living a second life in Eden seemed to have affected his notions before he even had a chance to notice. 

So now, Adam laid awake, not back into his little hiding spots, but out in the open under the blanket of the dark sky and glistening stars. Perhaps being exposed to the night’s cool air, rather than the still airs of caves, would help him gather his thoughts better. 

A pair of almost glowing yellow eyes had been focused on him since he had left the clearing in the forest like a predator stalking a prey, and he would be worried if it wasn’t for the fact that he was still in Eden. That, and the fact that his ‘predator’ was none other than his current best friend, Amora. The big cat had been stalking him since her betrayal at the clearing, watching from a short distance, never making a sound nor coming in contact with him. It wasn’t like she was trying to be sneaky, she seemed to ensure that Adam knew she was there, but other than that, the cat hadn’t done anything. It was…starting to creep Adam out. Just a bit.

Adam turned to his side and stared back at the silent jaguar. “You traitor. I swear you’ve been becoming meaner and meaner by the day.”

Amora simply kept staring at him. Of course. She’s just an oversized cat after all. Adam let out a loud sigh. Lately, the nights seemed to be going slower and lasted even longer, and he was often left with nothing but his thoughts. Thoughts he would rather not have. Maybe letting them out for once would help.

“What do you think I should do?,” he asked the cat. “I just want to be left alone but…Eden can become a little too quiet at times too.”

He paused as if waiting for Amora to finish her answer, then nodded to himself. “Yeah, just like right now.”

Eden’s sky was a louring dark grey, clouds swirling ominously while sound seemed to have momentarily disappeared from the garden. Then suddenly, a loud crack echoed throughout the garden as the ground in front of Adam fractured and hell fire’s tongue licked at the edges. There sat Lucifer and Lilith holding onto each other as the ground threatened to swallow them whole. Their hearts, never having felt true fear, seemed about to collapse from the mere presence of their impending doom. Adam stood there, a safe distance away from Hell’s gaping mouth, not willing to reach out and help them. Even as the two fell into the burning abyss and their cries echoed in the pit, Adam felt no sympathy for them. 

Then he turned around and suddenly he was sitting across from Michael as they both ate the breakfast they made together. 

“So, you play the violin?,” his voice echoed despite him not moving his mouth. 

“I…don’t play it as much anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Reminds me too much of my brother.” 

And somehow, Michael’s quiet sombre voice echoed louder in Adam’s head than the literal earth splitting in half. 

“I just wish things could’ve ended differently.”

Adam couldn’t care less as to whatever happened to either Lucifer or Lilith, but if it meant stopping the loud echo in his head that seemed to invade deep into his being; if it meant that the sword would never have been forced to be coated in gold, then he supposed he wouldn’t have minded trying harder so that things did end differently.

The day’s first rays caressed Adam’s cheeks, welcoming him softly into the morning. Amora was still a short distance from him, no longer clinging to him like before. And though she hadn’t said a word last night, one of the clouds over his thoughts had been cleared. 

—-

Another day, another unproductive morning. Amora maintained her odd, stalking behaviour, her yellow eyes piercing through Adam. Though the creepy feeling of her gaze had faded, it seemed to have been replaced by some sort of painful judgement. It was as if her gaze had been tearing him apart, pulling tendons off the muscle, the cartilage off the bone, separating pieces of his body that he needed to work. Today, Amora was an unethical surgeon. 

Once again, Adam had found himself lying under the stars of the night sky, cool breeze over his sun heated skin. This time, however, despite not having done much during the day, he felt very exhausted, with Amora’s piercing gaze having stripped his flesh off the bone. But just like last night, the cat remained a short distance from him, keeping that same wordless stare in the dark. And just like last night, Adam, despite his weary body, turned to face the jaguar and allowed his thoughts to flow out into the garden.

“It would be rather unfair to him, wouldn’t it?,” he asked the cat, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “I know a lot about him, but really, what does he know about me?”

Again, he paused, allowing a moment of Amora’s glowing eyes in the dark to stare at him before continuing. “Am I really going to admit–,” he gestured up and down and all around himself. “–all this mess?”

He turned on his back, facing the night sky again. While an eternity amongst the stars seemed like to hope for, he wasn’t sure if he would even dare to wish for it even if a falling star would cross the sky just for him. 

“Another one?,” asked Lute, a tired surprise in her voice. “Those idiots never seem to learn huh.”

“Well, they can’t help it. It’s me after all,” Adam replied as he walked back towards Lute who had been waiting by the park’s entrance. He had yet again, rejected another angel’s proposal. His wings remained a pure shining gold, and he intended to keep it so. Whatever delusional fantasy everyone in Heaven was on, Adam was not keen nor willing to partake in it.

“Of course, they’d be stupid too if they didn’t,” Lute added as she walked alongside Adam out of the park. 

Adam hummed in agreement. 

A heartfelt devotion, a promise to always remain by your side, symbolised by giving a part of yourself to another, in hopes that they would allow you in and offer a piece of themself in return. The bond between the two made clear and obvious in the changes of each other’s wings, almost like they would always be there to lift each other up into higher horizons. That’s what an offer of a feather meant. 

Adam had received plenty in his long life, from both Heaven-borns and winners alike, yet his wings were as golden as they were when they first formed. Maybe the fairy tale worked for others, but if someone who was literally made for him, and still didn’t work out nor last, twice with the other literally made from him, then maybe he was one of the exceptions. God couldn’t make mistakes after all. 

“Though…don’t you think it’s time?,” asked…Lute? “It’s always others who share a piece of themselves with you.”

That didn’t seem right. Adam was pretty sure she didn’t say that in this memory nor was it something she would ever voice aloud. He stopped in his tracks to look at ‘Lute’ except there was no one there. 

“It doesn’t always have to be about you Adam.” A voice echoed everywhere in the dream, loud but light, commanding but ethereal, present yet far away. 

The early birds’ song announced the breaking of dawn as gentle streaks of sunlight rose over the horizon to warm up the garden once more. This time, Adam had not woken up by himself, and instead found Amora sleeping quietly in front of him, one of her large paws over him like an embrace. 

“Did you just talk to me?,” Adam whispered, though his only answer was the cat’s even breathing and the warmth she had decided to share with him. 

—-

Adam was restless. While the two nights had helped clear his thoughts, he still wasn’t sure of what to expect tomorrow. Would things go back as to how they were? Or would he trip over himself and cause everything to fall? He really didn’t know, and knowing had carried him so far into this second life, suddenly not knowing how things could go felt…terrifying. 

The curious animals of the garden trailed behind Adam as he paced back and forth along the riverbank. And as per usual, Amora sat quietly on the sides, her yellow eyes moving back and forth along the frantic human. Her gaze this time, however, was neither creepy nor piercing, but a rather knowing stare. Not necessarily sympathetic, just simply knowing. And yet, this one was what bothered Adam the most. As if she held the answers he desperately wanted right now, yet holding them back. But then, many things were also bothering Adam as of now, all swirling and mixing together into a murky soup consisting mainly of trepidation.

The sun was sinking, the skies were turning a dark blue, and Adam was not ready for tomorrow. He had answers yes, but there was still one thing.

Did he deserve this?

The question had gotten to the point where Adam himself wasn’t even sure who ‘he’ was supposed to refer to. ‘He’ could refer to himself, could he simply accept such sincere affection? ‘He’ could also mean Michael, should he unknowingly accept a compromise? Adam groaned, hands dragging down his face as he sat by the riverbank facing a nonchalant jaguar.

“What’s even the point?,” he asked, voice sounding so defeated. “I can’t…I can’t be honest, not fully anyway.” Never fully. It would be too much, and he wasn’t sure he could handle it. The others things, he could admit, especially given enough time, but this one, his deceit and manipulation, how in reality, he wasn’t that much better off than either Lucifer and Lilith. This one might have to plague him for eternity. 

Adam met Amora’s gaze a final time, a pleading look in his wet eyes, hoping that someway somehow this large cat with a knowing look would provide him the solutions to everything he currently needed. Or simply take the problem away from this place. 

Adam chuckled to himself, “That would mean I’d have to leave…” 

The night arrived despite Adam’s wishes for the day to simply pause, and now he laid, again, on the same spot as those other nights, looking up at the stars that brightened up the dark sky along with the moon. And just like those other nights, Amora laid on the grass a short distance from him, her gaze never breaking, as Adam turned his body to face her to start their usual one-sided conversations. Though tonight, the river seemed to have dried up. What more could he reveal to the garden? It wasn’t like he was afraid. The novelty of fearing if God could hear his words had already worn off due to the simple fact he still remained in the garden despite the secrets he had said aloud. There was simply nothing more to say. He had three nights to gather his thoughts, and that he did. He had already accepted earlier that simply couldn’t be truly honest, that was for the best, he just wished that the guilt would let go of its hold on his heart. It was suffocating him; out there in the open under the night sky, guilt had him under its choking grip.

He…knew he really didn’t belong in the garden, at least not anymore, but unfortunately for the garden and all of its inhabitants and visitors, Adam was a selfish one.

“Goodnight, Amora,” he whispered before finally letting his heavy eyelids shut. 

Hopefully, tonight’s dream would also help him untangle his feelings.

Adam opened his eyes at the feeling of a rising warmth on his skin. The morning had arrived already. No dream had visited him, and no Amora was present near him.

Part 17

Part 19

[sugar-plum-writer]

"It's just the beginning darling"

Paring: Sukuna the king of curses! x fem!reader; Sukuna in Yujis Body Tags: Sukuna!imagines; Sukuna!being obsessive; slight!NSFW; slight!gore; mostly it's obsession enjoy~

Sukuna is cold, ruthless, and unpredictable, everything depends on his pleasure and displeasure. For such a man to exist, it's a miracle not more people are dead. Being the King of Curses, the strongest, being above the mere humans that totter about their day.

Just a breath of his, hell just his shadow is enough to make even Satan crawl on fours back to hell with hands sweating, legs weak, fearing for his life. That is who he is one above all beings, worshipped as a god. And to think he, such a great man, would fall for a mere ordinary girl? he does not consider himself to be a man who thinks much about the love business, he thinks more about the non-love business such as who will he toy with today? whose body will cause heart-wrenching sensational screams to echo?

It was all until you entered his vision, sitting in Yuji's body as usual, annoyed, bored, and sleepy. His eyes looking at whatever was going on, that's when he met you. Your bright smile as you hurried towards Yuji, made him wonder, "Who is she?" that's when his bored eyes sharpened, alert, a predator looking at his next prey.

"Hey Yuji! Long time no see!", your voice, so bright, so sweet

"Hey Y/n, yeah, long time no see!", Yuji smiled

"Ever since you shifted schools, it has not been the same, I miss you a lot, why did you change schools?", arms crossed, eyebrows frowned, and eyes full of questions as you stared at him, he cannot escape this

Your conversation continued as Yuji made all kinds of reasons why he left, it amused Sukuna, a bit entertaining seeing the brat struggle and get cornered, hell, he thought it was good, why so? well you will be a good blackmail seeing how Yuji is close to you

The look on Yuji's face, seeing your throat strangled, body ripped to shreds, utterly destroyed ruthlessly―

"Ah, how fun"

The smirk on his face, chilling to the bone, and you were completely unaware that you had swords swaying near your neck, how would it be chopped off not even in your control. You laughed carelessly as you sipped juice, sitting all pretty, so pretty, it made him want to ruin you so much more.

The pleasure of seeing the fear, terror, horrid look in your eyes, your screams of terror, would truly satisfy him it would be better than anything.

Finally he found his next prey and the hunt begun

As time passed, the interactions between you and Yuji grew, you even met his friends, Nobara and Megumi even his teacher Gojo, the more he observed you, the more he thought you were a very vulnerable person, quite fragile, and also an idiot, you cried easily― the one time you cried when your ice-cream fell, how easily you got hurt, stumbling― hitting your foot as curses escaped from those pretty lips.

How sometimes you walked carelessly― bumping into others, the way others looked at you, sometimes, he wanted to rip them to shreds and gauge out their eyes, after all, how dare they look at you with those eyes?, such feelings? why? doesn't matter, if it annoyed him it does not deserve to exist.

"What an idiot", his lips curled up into a smile as a light chuckle escaped his lips.

Once he even took over Yuji's body when Yuji was with you, he played along, sometimes he slipped up which caused you to look at him a bit confused and concerned but it only made him want to cackle and pin you against the wall and-oh the things he'd do― may you never know.

You walked with him so carelessly, in his mind he had already killed you so many times he lost count. The way you held his hand, soft fingers intertwined with his, pulling him as you ran and laughed, addicting, it turns into an obsession. An unhealthy one, he thought more frequently about you, when you were with Yuji all his senses were on high alert, taking in each and every movement, your outfit for the day, everything.

"Without them you would look better" his eyes trailed the way your clothes wrapped around you, concealing your body, like a present waiting for him to rip open and ravish you.

You won't be able to escape once he starts, pinning you, kissing you, tasting you as his lips kiss your neck, your breasts ruthlessly squeezed, fondled with- sucked by his tongue as if there's no tomorrow―

Your pretty cunt stuffed with his dick, dripping, crying for help, looking pathetic as your body shakes. Your eyes hazy as he ruthlessly slams into you, non-stop, your cries mean nothing, begging means nothing

He will rail you brutally, so much, so much till you collapse and cannot moan anymore, pushed to your limit, no beyond it

Oh what can your sorry cunt do? Just hold on until it's over, after all it's just the beginning

With Yuji losing more control over him each passing time he takes over, how long would you be safe from his clutches, your clothes, your skin all so pristine, may god have mercy on you dear y/n

Oh I forgot―

He is the God

Worship him, pray to him, offer him what he desires

Maybe you will live, dear Y/n, after all?

Who dares to raise their eyes to look at you in his presence?

Footnote: Check out masterlist for all chapters!

[stories-and-chaos]

Shrike: The House Always…Loses? Pt 1

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable. This was supposed to be a one shot about how Husk sold his soul, but I couldn’t help myself.]

[Part 1/2 Word count 3142 CW: alcohol consumption, gambling, mentions of sex.]

——————

The house always…loses?!

The 1970’s. You could tell there was some crazy shit going on in the world of the living. Mostly because the new arrivals in Hell had some particularly messed up forms. Tom Trench, 666 News’ anchor, had ended every broadcast for the past three years in an orgy after reporting on the war on Earth as well as the local conflicts.

“Complete lack of class,” Alastor shook his head as the two of you passed a large television screen in one of Pentagram City’s plazas. It was tuned to Tom’s nightly sign off; the camera off kilter and focused on the desk at a bizarre angle. Evidently the camera operator was part of the group on top of the desk. You could hear Tom saying, “oh fuck yeah I’m gonna invade all your landmasses baby,” followed by “here comes the firebombiiiiiiiiingggguh.”

“Zut alors, he’s turned into such a disgrace.” You scowled. “He might as well just work for that uncouth moth bastard at this point.” As you described Valentino, your voice gained a rough edge and wind started to swirl around you.

Your husband gave your hand a soothing squeeze. “Now now dear, you’ll muss your hair before I even get you on the dance floor if you keep it up. Besides cher, we’ll likely encounter him and the fad chaser at this party. If we all give into our emotions we’re likely to level the whole place.”

You breathed deeply. “And I’d hate to demolish a new establishment before even giving it a chance. Zestial requested a few songs as well, I can’t ruin my voice before granting him that.”

The two of you were attending a gala of Overlords and favored subordinates. One of the newest Overlords was providing the venue at his casino. These sort of get togethers were uncommon as more than one of the Pride Ring’s leaders in the same place often resulted in considerable property damage. So this newcomer was either extremely confident or foolhardy. Typical of a gambler.

At the entrance, you and your husband gave each other a final check; you straightened his bowtie, he smoothed back an errant lock of hair for you. Inside the casino was bustling with activity. It was set up into quadrants, each designated by a card suit. One section had slot machines designed to drain money from the poor saps who fell prey to their lights and false hopes. Deeper in were tables for more sophisticated ways to lose money. An elegant bar and well stocked buffet with dining tables nearby took up another section. The last quadrant had a stage for performers, lounge chairs for audience members and a dance floor. There was currently a band playing something forgettable on stage.

There was activity mostly at the gaming tables and bar. Not many Overlords were interested in the machines, the stakes weren’t high enough to care. And while the band was good, there wasn’t a headliner on stage at the moment. Food, alcohol, and barbed conversation was a bigger draw.

“Alastor, Y/N. Good to see you both.” The voice was sultry and professional all around once. “Ah, Carmilla, always a pleasure seeing you dear. You and your daughters,” you husband replied to the graceful Overlord.

“It’s been too long, Carmilla. Odette, Clara, you both look lovely cheres.” You glanced around the opulent venue. “So was this little fais do do your idea Carmilla?”

The tall woman shrugged elegantly. “In part. The owner of this establishment wanted to garner some attention and I owed him a small favor. I merely arranged the guest list. He took care of the rest.” She gestured to one of the card tables. “He’s entertaining guests with games of chance if you’d like to meet him.”

Alastor looked to you, “Well my dear, shall we meet our newest contemporary or mingle first?”

You spotted a tall figure draped in tacky fuschia leering in your direction from the bar, along with a shorter boxy headed demon boring holes into Alastor’s back. “Looks as if there are some unsavories around the liquor. I’m always interested in making new acquaintances.”

Arm in arm, you and your husband headed to the tables, Carmilla and her girls with you. You looked at them questioningly. “Ostensibly, as the hostess, I should introduce guests to each other.”

A demon about your height was dominating at the blackjack table. He had feline features in addition to a set of wings. Whereas your wings mimicked a natural bird’s coloration, his were more fantastical, vibrantly red and black with bars and dots all over. His hair was elegantly slicked back and his crisp tuxedo completed the air of a high roller.

He spotted Carmilla and after he won the current hand excused himself from the table, saying “duty calls friends.” He tucked his cane under his arm; the body was gold and topped with a sphere containing suit symbols, dice, and chips rotating like an orrery within.

“Husk, I’d like you to meet some of our colleagues.” Carmilla began as he approached. “This is Alastor, the Radio Demon, and his wife Y/N, the Singing Shrike. Alastor, Y/N, this is Husk, proprietor of this establishment and our newest sovereign Overlord.”

Alastor released your hand to shake Husk’s. “A pleasure to meet you my good man, truly a pleasure.” You followed up with your own pleasantries adding, “A lovely venue you have here. If the food and drink are up to the decor we may need to come around again, cher.”

“Pleased to meet you both,” his voice was rough but not unwelcoming. More like someone who had smoked excessively for years. “I don’t do things by halves, so I’m sure the refreshments are up to snuff. You’re both welcome to try the tables as well, if you can buy into the pot.” He stated a number that was high, but not exclusionary. No doubt he wanted to hook his patrons to get more value later. “We’re not betting souls tonight, that’s business and tonight’s for pleasure.” He gave you both a toothy smile before heading back to the cards.

You mingled both with Alastor and on your own. Waiters weaved through pockets of activity, serving drinks and hors d'oeuvres. There wasn’t really a crowd, which was smart considering how many Overlords could barely stand to be under the same roof, much less rubbing elbows.

It was somewhat inevitable though. A couple of hotheads, one you recognized and one you didn’t, started bickering, then yelling, then throwing punches. Any longer and they might have started bringing out some powers. Except they were stopped by a barrage of black playing cards. Off balance, they were crashed to the ground when a pair of giant dice rolled snake eyes onto them. Pinned, the two could only wait as Husk stalked over, the top of his cane glowing red.

“Didn’t your mamas ever teach you dumbasses any manners?” He slammed the butt of his cane down between their heads, sending a ripple of power out. “This is my house, my rules, so I’m going to teach you instead.” His gold pupils shined as he grinned down at them. “You wanna fight? You take it outside or I make you. You wanna settle things in here? We got plenty of ways to settle matters at the tables. Now what’s it gonna be bitches?” The two remained silent and continued to glare at each other. “Outside it is.”

The dice vanished but before the hapless combatants could do more than gasp a wave of poker chips carried them out the door with bone breaking force. Husk followed the wave calmly. From the other side, you could hear thuds, explosions, and screams. It only lasted a moment. Husk returned alone. One of the casino employees brought a new tuxedo jacket; there was dust and a bit of blood on the one he was wearing. He combed his hair back and returned to the game he’d been playing.

You sipped your whiskey, amused. Confidence it was then. “It seems our new friend can hold his own,” Alastor mused as he smoothly came up beside you. He held out a morsel of food for you, speared on a tiny skewer. “These are delightful, cher.” You pulled it off with your teeth. Shrimp in a spiced breading. “Mmm, that is lovely darling, thank you. And yes, he seems quite capable…for now.”

Anything else you would have said was derailed by a tall dark form appearing next to you and your husband. “If the two of thee have formed such an opinion of yon grimalkin, his potential is indeed of note.”

“My lord Zestial!” A light shiver sent your feathers rustling but that was expected around a demon as old and powerful as Zestial. Even Alastor tensed, a bit of strain around his lips and eyes. You curtsied as Alastor gave a slight bow. “You are as perceptive as ever. He has a great deal of power and potential. If his luck continues…”

Zestial chuckled. “Thou speaketh truth Shrike. One must make thine own luck. But ‘tis far too pleasant an occasion for such musings. Will thou grace the assemblage with thy voice tonight Shrike?”

“Of course cher!” As if you’d say no. Not to such a simple request from someone like Zestial. “I don’t suppose you have any requests? Or if there’s anything you’d like to hear darling?” you asked your husband.

Zestial shook his head. “Thy voice is a gift alone, I shall not presume to dictate its flow.”

“Hmm, I’m afraid I can’t help but dictate a little ma cher. Rosie requested a dance, so something she would enjoy?”

“I’d be glad to.” Alastor kissed your hand before seeing you off. You let Carmilla and Husk both know that you were ready to take the stage; you’d arranged everything ahead of time so the band was ready for you. Spotlights highlighted your mark as the lights dimmed slightly in the rest of the casino.

There was still a tremor of nervousness in your core as you took the stage. You were glad of it; if you didn’t feel nervous, you didn’t care about the performance or the audience. So you let it fuel the passion in your voice. You started with something that would grab attention, tap some toes. The big numbers would come later. For now you wanted them to listen to you more than the alcohol roaring in their skulls.

Once you had a gathering and you could feel the upbeat vibe in the room, you went into some dance numbers. The first one was for Alastor and Rosie. Seeing those two dancing together made your heart soar. Some might have expected you to be jealous, another woman dancing with your husband right in front of you. But how could you be jealous of your partner and your friend being so joyful together?

Not to mention that after your deaths, Alastor had gotten taller while you…embarrassingly you were the same height. He could still escort you comfortably but there were some dance moves that you couldn’t do together. Rosie was the perfect height, light on her feet, and a delight to watch in her own right. Why deny her and Alastor the pleasure? Or yourself the pleasure of watching.

You sang a mix of eras, which kept the band on their toes. But you loved music from different times and hearing what you could do with various songs. Alastor and Rosie danced for most of the songs, you could see Carmilla’s daughters find partners, and Zestial with his eyes closed, head bobbing to the music. Not even glimpses of Valentino and Vox could spoil the mood.

As people got tired, you slowed things down. There was more swaying on the dance floor now; there weren’t a lot of overt couples among Overlords (at least not established permanent ones) but there were many that shared intimacy for a time. Some had followers they were particularly close to and the rest of their followers often had a special someone. So there were plenty of pairs swaying to your voice.

Your last song of the night was Alastor’s song. It was your routine to finish with that one; carried over from when you were alive. Any demons that had seen you perform before knew it was your finale and worth paying attention to. The applause after the last note felt like champagne bubbling in your glass: delightful. You had a policy of not taking encores or requests after Alastor’s song, no matter how much anyone offered.

Alastor was there as you descended, hand ready for you. “As ever, you make me glad you married me, cher. Shall we get something to eat, I’m starved.” He knew you were likely to be as well, you tended to be ravenous after a performance.

To your surprise, there was clapping still near you; Husk, pulled away from the gaming tables. “I haven’t heard a performance like that in years. I’ve got a proposition for you, Y/N. Can I have some of your time after your meal?”

You and Alastor exchanged a glance. “Why not join us? As you said, it’s a night for pleasure, so presumably it’s not too serious,” you said as Alastor nestled your hand in his arm.

“If you’re both alright with that, don’t mind if I do.” You took a seat at an empty table while Alastor prepared a plate for you. You didn’t always let him, but you had put a lot into that performance, with so many people to impress. Fortunately, neither he nor Husk took long. Vox was starting to eye you from across the room. You would have hated to get wires and grease all over Husk’s new floor.

Alastor presented your plate as smoothly as any waiter, earning a throaty chuckle from you. There were more of those lovely shrimp, prime rib, salad, a baked potato and a slice of peach pie. You ate like a bird, which meant voraciously. You had to eat close to half your body weight in a day, much like the little bird you resembled. Fortunately you weren’t a pure carnivore and the peach pie was wonderfully nostalgic.

“Well, cher,” you said while stabbing a forkful of greens, “what’s this proposition?”

Husk swallowed, wiped his lips, and leveled a golden stare at you and Alastor. “I’d like to hire you of course,” he replied, expectedly. “I don’t have a headliner here yet and watching you made me realize how much this place needs one.” He sipped his wine. “So what do you say to a couple shows a week? I’ll give top billing to an Overlord, especially with pipes like yours.”

You smirked and raised your glass in admiration. Most assumed that Alastor was the only one with power in your relationship. Despite there being multiple female Overlords, once they found out you were married they acted as if you were little more than your husband’s hanger-on. While that granted you a number of opportunities (and demons chained to you with deals) you appreciated any that had a better grasp on your marital dynamic.

“What kind of compensation are we looking at? I don’t sing for free, cher.” Not even tonight had been free; Carmilla had paid your rate. There was one being in all existence that got to hear you for free.

Husk immediately named a figure. A gambler he might be, but he was a businessman too. He gave a number higher than your usual fee. Not high enough to make him seem desperate, but enough that he respected your talent and to entice from other engagements. “Obviously any tips are yours and you both will get perks of casino employees.” Evidently he noticed your shared enjoyment of the food and drink and wanted to sweeten the deal by including Alastor.

You pretended to mull it over while chewing your prime rib. “Quite the generous offer, ma petite chat. Why not, say three nights a week?” Husk readily agreed verbally. Neither of you moved to shake hands or sign papers; you could never be too careful with Overlords, especially when you were one.

The three of you chatted lightly as you ate. Alastor and you had experience with the old guard while Husk knew a lot of the young bucks. Neither side was about to give away more than the minimum information, but you got the impression he could be a decent ally.

Or pawn.

After the meal Husk asked you for a dance. You readily agreed, looking forward to seeing how he was on his feet. Not to mention a dance partner your size would be a nice change. He wasn’t as good as Alastor (who was?) but he was quite good. He seemed surprised by a couple maneuvers that incorporated your wings, evidently he hadn’t experimented much with his.

He actually got three songs with you before thanking you and heading back to the card tables. You were just feeling warmed up and went to retrieve your husband. Only to be intercepted by none other than Vox.

“Hey there sweetheart. How about you let me show you moves?” He gave you a grin and moved to take your hand in his.

You raked him up and down with your eyes. “Oh Vox, I’ve seen all your moves. They’re not impressive.” You pinched his wandering hand between two of your talons, making sure to draw pinpricks of blood before releasing him. “Allons’y cher, best you find a partner who can slow down for you.” Alastor had arrived at your side and added, “My darling wife makes an excellent point, although I’m not sure there’s anyone who can. Better luck next time ol’ pal!”

Without further ado he swept you onto the dance floor. He gleefully kept you dancing the majority of the night. You changed up partners a couple times, him with Rosie and you with Husk. At the end of the last song of the night, a slow dance, he lifted you into a bridal carry. Your wings cupped around his shoulders as he swayed with you.

Back at home, he and you exchanged notes on the evening while going through your nightly routines. “Cher, are you certain you don’t want me to deal with Vox?” he offered yet again.

“I can handle him darling. It seems I’ll need to be more direct however. More importantly, what do you think of my new employer?”

“Hmm.” His staticky hum filled the room as he climbed under the bedcovers. “An interesting fellow, we’ll need to see how he does. And you being there so often will give us plenty of opportunities,” he chuckled darkly.

You matched his laugh. As you settled next to his lean form you replied, “Agreed. This should be entertaining.”

A/N: part two may take a couple days, I’m finding pre-deal Husk’s voice hard to pin down. I hope you all like my head canon for his stronger abilities. Also, let me know if you’d like to be tagged for future Shrike snippets, she’s just fun to write. 💜🤍🩶🖤

@edgyboi10000 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @deafsignifcantother @whitewolfsoldat @ch3sire-blu3 @bengewatch

[urfavoritewriter]

Death Row’s Last Meal

Commission for an anonymous user here on Tumblr, thank you for commissioning me and letting me post it!

Content: M/M, Oral Vore, Chewing, Teasing, Cruel Pred, Graphic Digestion, G/T, Macro/Micro, Unwilling Prey

Bang bang bang!

The incessant knocking on Kyle's door reverberated through his apartment, each thud intensifying the curiosity and irritation etched across his face. As he approached the peephole, he saw two individuals in suits, their expressions serious, the weight of an unusual task etched on their features. He reluctantly opened the door, skepticism emanating from his eyes.

"Kyle?" the first agent asked, holding up an official-looking device for verification.

"Yeah, that's me. What's this about?" Kyle grumbled, rubbing his eyes, trying to make sense of the situation.

The second agent sighed, a weariness in his voice. "Kyle, this isn't easy for us either." They gave each other a slight look, "Look, we're here because of Dawson's last meal request. He asked specifically for you."

A moment of awkward silence went by, Kyle not fully comprehending. "By law, we need to shrink you and take you to him."

Kyle's eyes widened, and he leaned back, hoping this was some absurd prank. "Hold on, you're telling me I'm on the menu for some death row guy? Are you being for real?"

Both agents exchanged glances, a shared acknowledgment of the surreal nature of their mission. The first agent spoke, "Dead serious, Kyle. Dawson's last meal is, well, you."

Kyle laughed nervously, searching for any sign that this was a prank, but the agents' stony expressions persisted. "This has to be a fucking joke, right? You two bought these outfits to fuck with people?"

The second agent shook his head, showing official badges that certified their government affiliation. "We wish it were a joke, Kyle. This is the law, and... Well, it's happening whether you want it or not."

In a desperate attempt to shut out the surreal intrusion, Kyle slammed the door shut, pouring all his strength into resisting the inevitable. But the agents, with a calculated and practiced force, countered, pushing back against the door, and it swung back open, knocking Kyle off balance. He stumbled and fell to the ground, swearing vehemently.

"Get the fuck off me, assholes!" Kyle shouted as they ambushed him, "I still have my rights!"

The first agent, unfazed by Kyle's protests, retorted, "You have the right to be someone's last meal, buddy. Now quit resisting, or it's gonna get real ugly for you."

In the midst of the struggle, the second agent grabbed a syringe from his pocket. "Hold still, Kyle. This will be a lot easier for everyone if you just cooperate."

"Like hell, I will!" Kyle yelled, desperately trying to break free. He managed to shout for help, hoping someone in the hallway would intervene, but his cries seemed to vanish into the empty corridor.

The first agent rolled his eyes. "Come on, man, we're just doing our job. This will happen one way or another."

The second agent, seizing the moment, injected the shrinking liquid into Kyle's forearm. The effects were almost immediate. Kyle's body began to shrink rapidly, his clothes sagging around him as he tumbled to the ground.

"Fuck... you," Kyle managed to stammer before beginning to shrink rapidly.

As the shrinking process took hold, Kyle felt an odd sensation throughout his body. It started as a tingling in his extremities, a strange vibration that gradually enveloped him. His surroundings shifted; the once-familiar dimensions of his apartment now transformed into a vast and towering landscape.

The agents loomed above him, their figures expanding to colossal proportions. Every detail of their faces, their clothing, became magnified as if he were viewing them through an ever-zooming lens. The ambient sounds around him intensified, a cacophony of footsteps in the hallway now resembling distant thunder.

Kyle's clothes, initially snug, began to loosen and slide off his diminishing form. The fabric sagged like oversized drapes, eventually abandoning his shrinking frame altogether. Soon, he found himself entirely exposed, his nakedness accentuating the vulnerability of his reduced size.

The room, once comfortable and familiar, now assumed an alien quality. The furniture, once easily reachable, became insurmountable obstacles. The texture of the carpet transformed into a vast expanse, the fibers now strands that were difficult to navigate.

The agent, his colossal hand blotting out the surroundings, swiftly closed in on Kyle. The once-mighty punches that Kyle could deliver were now feeble, like the flailing of a helpless insect. With a deft motion, the agent scooped him up, his grasp securing around Kyle's diminished form.

Struggling within the confines of the agent's grip, Kyle found himself powerless against the giant force that now controlled his fate. The agent, nonchalant and almost indifferent to Kyle's tiny struggles, deposited him into a clear, sealed zip-bag.

Through the transparent barrier, Kyle could see the agent's face, looming large and expressionless. The casual yet authoritative tone persisted as the agent remarked, "Be grateful he didn't ask for you to be cooked." The implication of such a statement hung in the air, emphasizing the grim reality of his situation, as he zipped it shut.

Hours later, the legal rigmarole finally concluded, Kyle found himself delivered to the designated death row inmate. The muscular, toned man wore the standard orange inmate clothing, his blue eyes sharp and piercing. His dirty blonde hair and slight facial hair added a rugged edge to his appearance. The chiseled jaw and the smirk that played on his lips gave him a cruel demeanor.

As the zipped bag containing Kyle was handed over, the death row inmate's demeanor remained unapologetically harsh. "’Bout fuckin' time you got here. Was gettin' real hungry," he declared with a casual yet menacing tone. The implication was clear – Kyle was not just a shrunken man; he was a meal, a dehumanized object to be consumed and cruelly teased, his whole life turned upside-down in an instant based on the whims of a criminal, as law had it.

Dawson unzipped the bag, revealing the shrunken Kyle. The inmate's large, calloused hand grabbed him, his grip firm and unyielding. There was no gentleness in his touch, only a cruel sense of control.

He held Kyle up, eyeing him with a mixture of amusement and disdain. "Look at you, all fuckin' tiny. Little shit. You thought you were special, didn't ya?" Dawson's words dripped with cruel teasing, as if reveling in the degradation of his prey. "Well, you're just a meal for me, and let me tell ya, it's gonna fuckin' suck."

Dawson's laughter echoed, a harsh sound that matched the cruel amusement in his eyes. He brought Kyle closer to his face, his breath hot and heavy. "You're gonna feel every bit of pain as I chew on you, and then, buddy, the real fun starts when you slide down my throat. Most painful fuckin' digestion you can imagine."

The casual tone of his threats, peppered with obscenities, heightened the brutality of the situation. There was no mercy in Dawson's words, only a brutal honesty about the agony that awaited Kyle.

Kyle squirmed desperately in Dawson's grasp, his small form doing little against the inmate's powerful hold. "Please, man, you can't do this! I'm a fucking person, not your damn snack!" he pleaded, his voice a mix of fear and desperation.

Dawson only laughed, a harsh sound that echoed in the small space between them. "Oh, you're a person, alright. A person 'bout to become my next meal. A person ‘bout to be dead.” Dawson gave Kyle a clear view of his abs, before speaking again. “See that, little fucker? That’s where you’re goin’. And that’s where you’re fuckin’ dyin’.”

Kyle, in protest, physically struggled against the giant man's brutal grasp. Dawson chuckled at Kyle's feeble squirms. "Aw, ain't you a little fighter?" He squeezed his tiny captive tighter, relishing the feeling of the struggles against his palm. "Guess it don't matter how much you fight, you're endin' up in my gut anyway."

He lifted Kyle closer to his face, opening his mouth wide. "Take a good fuckin' whiff, 'cause you're gonna be smellin' a lot more of it soon." Dawson huffed in Kyle's face, his breath hot and tainted with the scent of the impending doom that awaited him. He smirked at Kyle's discomfort, finding perverse pleasure in the psychological torment.

"Fuck, that stinks!" Kyle said, the smell being more suffocating due to his small lung size. "You can't do this, you're violating my rights as an upstanding citizen."

"The law ain't gonna save your tiny ass, being a law-abiding citizen was what got you here in the first place." Dawson taunted. "You're just another meal for me, a criminal eatin' up a supposed 'civil' citizen. Life's a bitch, ain't it?" The casual cruelty in Dawson's tone only intensified the despair of the situation, his words a relentless reminder of the power he held over Kyle's fate.

Dawson's tongue snaked around Kyle, pulling him into the hot, cavernous expanse of his mouth. The taste was overwhelming, a mixture of saliva and the remnants of Dawson's last meal, probably from yesterday. The smell, a pungent blend of mouth odor and saliva, hung heavily in the air.

As Dawson sucked on Kyle, his tongue pressed against him, the firm grip restricting any chance of escape. The saliva clung to Kyle's naked form, making his struggles more futile with each passing second. Dawson reveled in the feeling of his tiny captive squirming, the vibrations of his movements causing him immense pleasure.

Then came the chewing. Dawson didn't hold back; he bit down with force, causing sharp pain to radiate through Kyle's diminutive body. The pressure was enough to bruise, to inflict injury, but not to end him. Each chew bit down harder, causing evident bruising on his body.

"Fuck!" Kyle's pained expletive escaped through the chaotic mess of Dawson's chewing, his teeth pressing down on him from top and bottom, coated with saliva and unrelenting in their biting.

Dawson grinned, feeling the distress coursing through Kyle. "Ain't it somethin', bein' chewed up alive? You're just a lil' appetizer before the real show in my gut." The malice in his tone amplified the horror, making each chew a brutal punctuation mark in the merciless consumption of Kyle.

Dawson continued his nonchalant demeanor as Kyle slid down his throat, the struggling form creating an evident bulge in the muscular curve of Dawson's neck. The descent was a hot, tight journey into the core of the beast, the casual cruelty persisting even as the tiny man entered the churning depths of Dawson's stomach.

The sensation of Kyle arriving in the stomach was marked by a distinct, guttural sound.

"BuUuRp!"

Escaped from Dawson's lips, a casual belch that coincided with the finality of Kyle's journey. The stomach walls embraced Kyle, the heat and pressure intensifying as he settled into the acidic pool. Dawson, seemingly unfazed, leaned back, savoring the moment as he patted his now-filled belly.

"Agreed to let 'em keep me alive until you're digested. Don't think you're gonna have a quick end, Kyle."

Dawson, smirking with a cruel glint in his eye, decided to make it more personal. He placed a flat hand against his abdominal muscles, his abs bulging out slightly due to the tiny's presence. "Now, little man, let's have some fuckin' fun."

With a sudden flex of his abdominal muscles, Dawson tightened his stomach around Kyle. The pressure was immense, a crushing force that left Kyle gasping for breath. Dawson's abs, chiseled and defined, clenched with power. The cruel twist of a smile adorned Dawson's face as he relished in Kyle's agony.

Kyle, caught in the throes of the stomach squeeze, couldn't help but swear through gritted teeth. "Fuck you, you sadistic asshole!"

Dawson's laughter filled the air as he continued to tighten his stomach around Kyle. "Squeezin' the life outta ya with my abs, and you're weak as fuck, can't do shit about it from in there."

As Dawson flexed and squeezed, Kyle's body contorted with the pressure. It was an excruciating experience, made worse by the casual cruelty of Dawson's actions. Each flex of those powerful abs seemed to mock Kyle's pain, turning the entire ordeal into a sadistic game for Dawson's amusement. The air was filled with Kyle's pained cries and the giant's taunts.

After excruciating minutes, Dawson let his stomach muscles relax and his abs bulged out slightly again. Kyle felt the squeeze subside, but his body was sore from how crushing it was. His body was now soaked entirely with acid, his skin beginning to tingle, and only now is he comprehending how much pain he's going to be in for the rest of his life.

As the hours unfolded, Dawson's stomach initiated its relentless assault on Kyle's diminutive form. The digestive acids wasted no time, greedily working through the soft flesh and bones of the tiny man. Kyle, now thoroughly bathed in the corrosive juices, experienced an agonizing digestion.

Dawson, nonchalant as ever, let out a casual chuckle, his tone laced with a cruel amusement. "Must be real cozy in there, huh? Feeling the burn?" He patted his own belly, relishing the discomfort he knew Kyle must be enduring.

The graphic scene inside Dawson's stomach unfolded with a visceral intensity. The acids burnt the outer layer of his skin, the pain unbearable as it seeped into his flesh and muscles, his body bleeding.

"Bet you're wishing you were back in your cozy apartment right about now, huh? Guess what, my body's your home sweet home now."

The relentless acids worked through muscle and sinew, reducing Kyle to a slushy mixture within the confines of Dawson's stomach. Kyle, despite his gradually-broken body, tried to fight back. Dawson, thoroughly entertained by the spectacle, couldn't help but offer another biting remark. "You're really giving my abs a workout in there, buddy. Never had a meal fight back so much."

Indifferent to the struggles within, waited for the next few hours to unfold, knowing that the graphic digestion had only just begun.

The corrosive acids, now thoroughly acquainted with Kyle's form, continued their brutal assault. The digestive enzymes, having broken down the outer layers, were now penetrating deeper into the soft tissues, liquefying them with a gruesome efficiency.

Kyle's screams, now reduced to muffled cries, echoed within the fleshy chamber. His body, once whole, was succumbing to the merciless digestive process as he couldn't bear to speak anymore, only cry. The acidic fluid turned a disturbing shade of reddish-green as more of Kyle's blood bled out of him and into it.

"You must look a fuckin' mess in there." Dawson said, rubbing his hand over the small bulge of his stomach.

The graphic scenes unfolded in gruesome detail. The acid, now reaching the deeper recesses of Kyle's anatomy, worked through organs and tissues. The distinct scent of the digestion, a putrid amalgamation of bodily fluids, hung in the air within Dawson's gut.

Kyle's life was being snuffed out brutally in Dawson's gut, the final gasps of his existence silenced by the relentless tide of digestive brutality.

Dawson, indifferent to the life he had just extinguished, burped nonchalantly. The taste of Kyle's blood lingered in his mouth. "Fuck," Dawson huffed, "You're weak as shit."

Dawson lifted his orange inmate shirt, showcasing his toned abs. "Got fuckin' destroyed." He gave it a pat.

"Best last fuckin' meal and last fuckin' thing I do with my life." He said, very content with his choice of a last meal.

[gldrushsblog]

SUGAR AND SIN | JK

🧁✧ ˚. TITLE: Sugar and Sin.

🧁✧ ˚. PAIRING: Mafia boss! Jungkook x female oc

🧁✧ ˚. BLURB: Aurora Beckett had simple plans for the night: clean up the counter, finish boxing up the last batch of strawberry cupcakes, and maybe catch up on her favorite drama. Until the click of a gun spoiled the tiles of her bakery and her plans.

🧁✧ ˚. GENRE: Mafia au, grumpy x sunshine, forced proximity, slow burn, dark romance, crime/thriller.

🧁✧ ˚. WARNINGS: This chapter contains a violent scene involving murder, as well as mentions of nausea and a character passing out.

🧁✧ ˚. TAGS: oc is traumatized and on the verge of throwing up but she's also a little weird, jk is having fun cosplaying as a satanic entity for the night

🧁✧ ˚. A/N: This chapter's a lot shorter than the average word count I write but I hope it's intriguing enough for people to keep reading. Also please don't hesitate to type out your comments and opinions. I love to read them and stay informed with what clicks for you and for doesn't.

🧁✧ ˚. TAG LIST: @scuzmunkie ... (Please do let me know if any of you want to be added too.)

CHAPTER 1: AURORA

Aurora had two problems tonight.

Her frayed nerves that showed no sign of settling down any time soon, and the blood on the once-pristine white tiles of her bakery floor, which were sometimes grazed with flour and all that.

The latter and former both caused by a group of tall and dark figures of men that barged inside the dim lighted interior of her bakery that she was just about to pack up like they were out to hunt. From what she could see from the corner of the counter she was hiding behind and trying to squeeze herself further away into the darkness, the prey in question was another stumbling man who fell his way before them, backing on his palms as he slid on the floor, a messy trail of blood following right after him as the group of men loomed forward with a errie calmness. She visibly winced at that before taking advantage of the soft darkness and lifting her gaze up and instantly retreating back.

Gods, she had never regretted turning down Lia's offer to drop her home more than she did now. But no, she wanted to finish baking one last batch, just to get ahead for tomorrow.

Now she was hiding from men who looked like they made up the gateway of hell.

 

Clad up in all black with their forms blended into the shadows, save for the luminosity of moon light spilling through the window. They could’ve been anyone, anyone except the customers who regularly graced her small bakery. Definitely not the kind who ordered pastries.

She should have been afraid for her life. She was, in part. But another part of her was horrified at the blood—so much blood—coating the clean floor where she spent her days baking treats. A morbid thought crossed her mind: it was going to take forever to scrub that out.

She tried to shake off the absurdity of the thought and focused on the bigger issue that screamed that she was going to be the next one on their hit list. She doubted her capability to hide here, to hide her frantic heartbeat from all of them because it was all she could hear, until that changed too like her mundane nights.

"Done running?" A deep gravelly voice echoed louder than her heartbeat in the small space that was her bakery, followed with clear thumps of footsteps against the floor. And that's when her eyes took in the sight of a man who was probably what waited you inside that gateway.

He was wearing black too, of course, but somehow he stood out, and when he walked further, the other men looked nothing but mere shadows surrounding this larger unexplainable force.

"It was getting really fun." He drawled as if murder was a game, and the man cowering on the floor was just another player who had lost. It took all her might not to dig a hole somewhere here and hide further. It seemed to have the same effect on the cowering and trembling man on the floor as well that whimpered pleads for mercy which were unheard by lucifer himself and her as well because the sound of conflict in her head was louder.

She felt guilty and all kinds of words related to it because she was a present presence here, watching a man on the verge of getting killed in her property, doing nothing. She tried to fumble for her phone in the pocket of her apron as quietly as she could, but to her unfortune, it was on the far end of the countertop - a distance that felt like a mile now. She didn’t dare move, and the moral lecture she had rehearsed in her head earlier evaporated when she heard the sound of a gun clicking as well as her will scattering.

Her wide eyes that were going anywhere but the scene unfolding in front of her stopped at two inky voids like black ink splashed across a page, who found her before she could and was staring straight at her, penetrating through her very being as he too was crouching down on the floor, making a surge of panic run through her as the idea of her being seen settled in.

He saw her.

Her heart stopped.

Yet when she saw him stay blank and unamused as ever, even when he caught on an unexpected presence, she chose to second thought her plan to scream and run. Or she was forced to do so because his eyes had her frozen and stiff, unable to breathe.

Her heartbeat even came to a pause if that was possible, and then before she knew it was resuming that violent pace when she saw his lips moving. 

"Close your eyes."

Despite the pounding in her heart, she caught the words.

Yet she didn't obey, and that was the second time she felt regret flooding in the night when a quick click of the bullet leaving his cocked gun echoed around. The relief she felt for one moment when she wasn't on the receiving end of his chilling gaze washed away the moment the prey of a guy's brain spilled on the floor.

Blood. Blood. Blood. That was all in her line of sight as the man collapsed dead on the floor. Blood. Pooling around him. Blood. Everywhere. 

Aurora felt her throat work, her stomach twisted, a nauseous feeling overtaking her before she gathered whatever self preservation was left in her and forced her palm tightly against her mouth to not let out the sound of horror that was bubbling. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. But all she could do was press her back harder against the counter, eyes glued to the body now lying lifeless on the bakery floor.

Her eyes, unblinking, slid up to the man who had penetrated the life out of a once alive being. The man stood over the corpse, expression unreadable. The gun hung loosely in his gloved hand, as though the life he had just taken was of no consequence to him. As if this was routine.

It didn't suprise her but horrified her further.

Would she be the next on the floor with life draining out of her as well as her blood, begging for his non existing mercy?

Her answer was his eyes stopping at her quivering and crouched figure again from the corner.  Her vision had blurred over the time he was turned toward her after barking orders at his men—orders she couldn’t hear over the deafening roar of her heartbeat. She barely registered the sound of footsteps until they were close—too close.

And then, darkness.

With a last prayer to gods above, her body shut out with the last thing she saw before her eyes blacked out, being the devil coming for her.

To be continued...