#if you want to play evil go ahead just know that it is not the good ending for him

[burningcheese-merchant]

Its the cycle of History. Civilizations rise up. He watches them thrive. They eventually fall. Witnessing an expected event over and over with no Change can be desensitizating. After all, there's no reason in madness! (Timekeeper being in a similar boat of boredom only satiated by causing problems on purpose in roundabout ways for lols)

One might say that all he does with Destruction gives him a sense of control. Finally he can play HIS way. Speeding up things so he doesn't end up getting attached. Even better if he can be destroyed in turn some day. The combo of adrenaline and spices make for quite the addiction :3 If it turns out he sent spiced out cookies to Mystic then not even his supposed friend is safe from bull

It's rather interesting with what we've seen in Mystic Flour as the first Beast release. Girlie cared too much til she had no more f to give. BS destroys everything before he could prolly care. Can't wait to see Smilk spiraling into silly[tm] from knowing too much! Time to crave tragedy!!

I know, brother. Trust me. I've made a post addressing this before, and... Well. What I work on and study irl has an awful lot to do with history as a subject lol. I really need you wll to believe me when I say I understand the cycle of history. I know it so well, it hurts. It's part of why I'm such a cynic irl. I know exactly how awful history and people are. I really, truly do.

And you have a point, yeah. It could be a play for control. For things to be the way Burning Spice wants them to be, if only once. Sort of like what I suggested in that post: just cut out the middleman and end it all yourself. Be the "solution" to the "problem", before the problem even actually happens. It's a valid theory. Certainly an interesting one.

It's still bullshit at the end, though. Same with Mystic Flour's reasons for turning bad. Same as all the others' reasons probably will be.

Idk I think I'm just... tired at this point. History is a subject that is very near and dear to my heart for many reasons, and has been my whole life. In studying history, you learn a lot about people and life and the human condition. And part of that is hearing every single excuse for doing evil deeds possible. And in hearing Mystic Flour's backstory, and even Burning Spice's (how little we actually see), all I heard were all those same excuses all over again. And I got sick of hearing them a long time ago.

I'm not sure I necessarily see what Mystic Flour did as "caring too much until she had nothing left to give". I see it, I see what you're saying and it's valid, I just... it reads more as outright naivety to me. Girlie acts like she's never heard of greedy people before. "There were people who wished for selfish things and wanted my powers for themselves" uh yeah lol. That happens. There are people like that out there. You should know better than to think otherwise. You should also know better than to just go ahead and grant every single person's wishes. It inevitably leads to greed and entitlement. But regardless, that's no fucking reason to want to wipe out all of man/cookiekind. That's fucking stupid. Some shitty people took advantage of me, therefore every single person on earth should lose their individuality and die. Fuck you, you miserable bitch (I know it's more complicated than that, I'm just distilling it because MF legitimately does irritate me as a character lol)

"I'm bored" oh man. Oh jeez. That's the worst thing that could ever happen to someone, now isn't it. You're so bored, it seems, that you can't even be bothered to explain why or how. Are you tired of building something up and caring about it, only for it to be destroyed, over and over again? Did you lose someone important to you while enforcing that cycle? Are you overwhelmed by the burden of the responsibility you were given without choice, and thus slowly driven to madness? All of the above? None? It doesn't matter because those are stupid, too. And they're rendered stupid because you use them as an excuse to hurt people that have nothing to do with anything. "I destroy things to regain a semblance of control over my life and to prevent attachment" cool motive, still murder. If you (and MF, too) are that bothered by the way things are then just fucking kill yourself. Why not? End your oh so terrible suffering instead of inflicting it on everyone else. But they won't, and neither did the other Beasts, because they are all fundamentally dumb, selfish, hypocritical cowards.

Or, how about this: ABDICATE. You don't want the power and responsibility? Give it to somebody else. You don't want to help uphold balance? Fine, that's fair. LET SOMEONE ELSE DO IT, THEN. Have the humility and integrity to admit you're not cut out for the job instead of doing this heinous shit. The Ancients worked for the power and accepted the responsibility that came with it. That's why they're better than you and always will be. They're not bummed out by immortality or the cycle of history or whatever else you want to cry about. They live their lives and do right by others and get the job done. It's obvious you can't, so just man up and step down. Or don't. Hoard the power and neglect the responsibility and be a blight on society instead of coming to terms with your own shortcomings. Because that's easier, isn't it? Being evil is the easy way out. That's why so many people are. Because they're too weak to try anything else.

That's all the Beasts were and continue to me, to me. Weak. They are right to be unhappy with whatever unfortunate circumstances befell them. They are right to resent their creators and the burden they bestowed upon them. But they are wrong to punish everyone else for it. It's selfishness. Weak moral and spiritual fiber. Congratulations, Mystic Flour, you've proven that your apathy is fake by trying so hard to get the Soul Jam back and wanting to steamroll everyone else's rights, thoughts and feelings with your own. Congratulations, Burning Spice, you're still perpetuating the cycle of history by being the exact same bloodthirsty tyrant as every single one before and after you. I've seen these clowns before, history is full of them. And they all start grating on you after a while lol.

Idk if any of this made sense. I think I'm just irritated with the Beasts (and with villains in general, maybe, to a degree) and your ask gave me an excuse to ramble semi-coherently about it lol. I nevertheless appreciate you telling me your thoughts. You have good and interesting ones. I wish you a wonderful New Year and a big basket full of delicious bonbons

[rpgchoices]

tw for abuse

So I tried to break up with Wyll and refuse his romantic dance and ask him about the tadpole, but why is the game SO CRUEL WITH ASTARION?

Like, if you want him to use the astral tadpole he straight up says no, So you can have a wisdom or intimidation check (if you fail them he is going to break up with you and be so mad).

But basically the wisdom check is trying to use one of his old memories (the worst possible memory) against him to remind him he is too weak, and he needs power if he wants to stay safe.

The intimidation is literally using his self hatred against him. If you play with the vampire lord ending you can break up with him and tell him you preferred him as he was, and he is shocked because he was "pathetic"

The thing is, to soften him/get the good ending (chosen by him without persuation checks) I think you need him to accept that he is who he is, and he is okay as he is. Coincidentially, trying to talk him out of the Cazador ritual is so insightful, both here in the video (this is before you get attacked by the other spawns) and later (after you get attacked) you have some options/dialogues about how he is so different now, he is not like "them"/his old pathetic self anymore.

This is the other post-attack dialogue:

When I played friendship Astarion, the most interesting part post ritual was the dev literally spells it out:

In the crypt you also find a book about Cazador's master and the rules he made for Cazador, and the abuse Cazador suffered before killing his master in revenge.

And of course:

[tpwrtrmnky]

hindsight

[ID: A two-panel comic with crudely drawn stick figures.

Panel 1: The lime green person is talking to the leaf green person and the moss green person.

Lime: "I... have a confession to make."

Leaf: "Go ahead."

Lime: "I want to rewatch the Wizard Child movies."

Leaf: "Didn't the wizard author get incredibly chromophobic?"

Lime: "Yeah I just... It's nostalgia you know? They meant a lot to me when I was a kid."

Panel 2: The three are on the couch.

Lime: "All right, let's go."

Leaf: "It's so weird how the wizard author just turned chromophobic though. Like I remember this series being pretty good for its time. It'll be weird seeing their work contrasting with their views now."

Moss: "I'm just glad we got the movies for free through normal and legal means. Heh."

End ID.]

[ID 2: Scenes from three Wizard Child movies.

Wizard Child and the Simplistic Morality: A slightly round child with a propeller hat is talking to a child with no hat.

Round child: "I am so fucking fat and greedy I am textually shown to be fat because I am greedy and also evil."

Hatless child: "You are to infer my moral purity from juxtaposition with this fat child. Woe is me for our shared parent has deprived me of a propeller hat."

Wizard Child and the Goodness of Wealth: An adult wizard is talking to the child, who now has a wizard hat.

Wizard Adult: "Wizard child you are secretly extremely rich."

Wizard Child: "I will form biases regarding the bankers all being triangular for some reason!"

Wizard Adult: "Your wealth is deserved because your true parent was Good and therefore you are also Good."

Wizard Child: "Now we should acquire consumer goods. Buy consumer goods!"

Wizard Child and the Dark Family History: A blue-grey horse person is talking to the wizard child.

Blue-grey: "No, wizard child. You don't understand. I am one of the good ones, because unlike the bad ones I don't try to spread my curse that makes you a blue-grey horselike creature to others!"

Wizard child: "Wow uncle blue-grey you are one of the good ones! I forgive you for being a horse because I am so good I would even forgive horses. I sure hope you don't conspicuously get killed off later in this movie!"

End ID 2.]

[ID 3: Oh hell no there are even more of these.

Wizard Youth and the Tokenistic Relationship Dynamics: A square headed wizard youth is talking to the former wizard child, now a wizard youth.

Square Wizard Youth: "Wizard child, as the only person with a square head in this entire series it is my duty to inform you that you are the savior of all people with square heads, too. Let us build a one-sided relationship that only furthers your character development, after which I will immediately lose all plot relevance."

Wizard Youth: "I will do this because I am a maturing wizard youth and need disposable relationships that don't threaten the endgame!"

Wizard Youth and the Escalation of Stakes: The Dark Wizard, a sort of grey-green person with a cloak, is pointing at Wizard Youth.

Dark Wizard: "Wizard Youth, I have returned!"

Wizard Youth: "Dark Wizard! Why are you green now?"

Dark Wizard: "Evil magic made me green! I am green with envy towards all who are good!"

Wizard Youth: "I will not engage with how you are clearly based on fascist ideologies and yet this narrative plays into fascist aesthetic sensibilities!"

Wizard Youth and the Post-Hoc Revelations: The Wizard Youth is leaning over their Wizard Mentor, who is laying in a pool of blood.

Wizard Youth: "Wizard Mentor no! You can't die!"

Wizard Mentor: "It is fine, wizard youth. My death will further your character development into a wizard adult. Also, I was secretly a very very dark purple this entire time. I never brought it up so I could retain narrative approval.

End ID 3.]

[ID 4: Wizard Adult and the Overdue Conclusion. Three panels. I am sorry.

Panel 1: The dark wizard is dueling the Wizard Adult with magic beams.

Dark Wizard: "Evil green beam!"

Wizard Adult: "Good red beam! Despite the enormous variety of magic in this series this is what our final battle looks like!"

Panel 2: Wizard Adult stands victorious over the dark wizard, who is dying on the ground.

Wizard Adult: "In the end, dark wizard, you were defeated because I am morally superior to you."

Dark Wizard: "I was a product of systemic failures. There will be someone like me again someday!"

Panel 3: Zoom in on wizard adult, who says:

"Not if I can help it. Because I am going to be a wizard cop now. The moral of this story is that all systemic issues can be solved by finding a bad guy to beat."

End ID 4.]

[ID 5: Four panels.

Panel 1: Return to the green trio on their couch, watching the TV say "The End." All are are silent.

Panel 2: They are sitting on the couch. Moss is looking at their phone.

Lime: "Yeah so there were maybe a few signs we missed because we were children."

Leaf: "Yeah. A few. Some."

Panel 3: Continue conversation.

Lime: "So what did you think, Moss?"

Panel 4: Zoom in on Moss, who says: "I've been zoned out on my phone since the second movie. They lost me at the magic stuff. Wizards aren't real."

End ID 5.]

Start - Previous - Next

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

hi! can i ask what's ur opinion on giving pets away? not necessarily because u can't afford to care for em anymore but maybe incompatibility of personalities or maybe lifestyles. is it wrong to give ur pet for adoption if u know someone who's better suited for keeping a pet, like emotionally?

This is going to be controversial, but I support making that choice.

There’s a lot of rhetoric lately around how it’s evil and unethical to rehome your pet if you don’t “need to.” And what that does is prioritize human ideology over the actual animal’s well-being.

Pets that aren’t a good match for your home or pets that aren’t really wanted anymore frequently have lower welfare! When caring for an animal becomes a burden or is forced, people end up resenting them, and that means the animal often doesn’t get all of its needs fulfilled. Even if you’re still feeding it and providing appropriate vet care, how likely are you to provide affection or enrichment to an animal you’re tired of being stuck with?

Lifestyle and personality really matter to making sure a pet is a good fit for a home. A dog that alert-barks at every leaf that moves is probably a bad fit for someone who has a chronic migraine syndrome, and they might not know that until the dog has been in the home for weeks and started to open up. A really feisty kitten that requires a ton of play might not do best in the home of someone older who wanted a quiet lap cat. And while you can you do your best to plan to find a compatible animal, you won’t always know ahead of time what issues might arise.

“Forever home” rhetoric is really, really popular and I think it’s very unfair to the animals it is supposed to support. It started with the backlash of seeing animals abandoned inappropriately, and has been heavily reinforced in the public mind because it’s so frequently used to drive fundraising and support for legislation. The whole “forever home” concept communicates to people that getting an animal is an immutable commitment and that if you can’t keep an animal, it is a personal moral failing. It frames human priorities (we think people who get rid of animals are Evil and Bad and should be shunned) as more important than actual welfare needs for individual animals (are they getting the care they need where they are).

Obviously, I don’t support people dumping animals or just getting fad pets they’ll discard immediately, but there’s so many alternate situations that can arise. Even if it’s just “they got a pet and didn’t know what caring for it would take and didn’t want to care for it so they brought it back, how awful” like… okay, I’d like the person to have done more research before they got a pet, but isn’t it better that the animal now has a second chance to go to better home? Knowing what a commitment requires theoretically can be very different than having to actually follow through regularly, and I’d rather see someone maturely acknowledge that having an animal isn’t a good fit than keep it anyway!!

If animals being happy and with all their biological, veterinary, and social needs fulfilled is actually the goal, we need to prioritize their welfare over human opinion. I’d much rather see an animal rehomed responsibly to somewhere it will thrive and be welcomed than see people keep animals they can’t/don’t want to care for out of guilt or shame. 

[hiddenbeks]

so many thoughts abt how schewpid the jedi council is in kotor but also not sure if i should write abt any of them before i finish the game because it's entirely possible that i'm still missing some critical information,

[babyleostuff]

avoiding their kisses | ot13

❥ seungcheol

if you want to end up with an extremely sulky boyfriend who’ll insist on giving you the silent treatment for the rest of the day, then yeah, go ahead and avoid his kisses. cheol would obviously be so petty the second he’d notice you ignoring his kisses on purpose, he’d spend the day giving you an attitude in his sulky choi seungcheol manner. funny thing is how by the end of the day cheol would be low key on the verge of death, because he didn’t get to touch you, hug you, cuddle you, etc throughout the day (and the only person to blame is him, his pride, and his stubbornness) (can you imagine his clinginess after not being able to touch you for the whole day?)

❥ jeonghan 

you chose the wrong person to mess with. even if you avoid his kiss only once, your precious hannie turns into the menace yoon jeonghan - no partner privileges can save you from his pettines when you ignore his kisses. he’s kind of the same as cheol, clingy and in need of your touch, but whereas cheol is a whiny baby, jeonghan uses your own weapon against you. he’ll avoid kissing you, he’ll avoid hugging you, he’ll avoid doing all of the things he knows you love. he’d wait till the point where you’d come sulking to him, upset that he’s just being mean, because after all, you avoided only one of his kisses. after that, he’d just laugh and coo at you for being so needy (it’s not like he was dying to kiss you ten seconds ago). “that’s what happens when you ignore my kisses, honey.” (lovingly)

❥ joshua 

at first joshua would get a bit concerned that something had happened, or that you weren’t feeling well, that is until he realised you were just messing with him. jeonghan’s evil twin because two can play this game. he’d proceed to avoid most of your kisses for the rest of the day, and if you gave him confused looks (he never ignored your kisses, so his behaviour would immediately be suspicious in your eyes), he’d just give you a sweet smile, asking you if something was wrong, clearly messing with you. your (adorable) frustration at the end of the day would be worth every kiss joshua had to give up that day. of course you end up making out for the rest of the evening because you have to get your daily amount of shua kisses

❥ jun 

too shy to ask you why you ignored his kiss, too sad to think straight, too worried that he did something wrong. immediately goes through the things he had said that day, trying to remember if he could've said something to upset you, or if he had forgotten to do something you asked him to do. so he just ends up moping around, trying to remember things he didn’t even do, but if you asked him if something was wrong, he’d just brush it off, not wanting to come off as too dramatic. but then it’d get too much for jun, and he’d shyly ask about that ignored kiss, and if there was something he could do to apologise for whatever he did. and his sweetness and worry would melt your heart so badly, it was never your intention to avoid his kiss, it just happened, so you’d scold him for not mentioning it earlier. you’d give him a lot of reassuring kisses afterward because that’s what jun deserves 

❥ hoshi 

he’d get extremely confused because it’s not often that you avoid his kisses, or any type of affection for that matter, but would brush it off as only an accident. when he tries to kiss you again some time later, and you ignore it once again, he gets so so sad :(( “what do you mean you don’t want to kiss me?” would immediately ask you if something was wrong, and if he did something to upset you, he doesn’t like it when you give him the silent treatment (although nothing but the ignored kisses showed that you were angry with him, which made him even more confused). before you’d be able to say anything, though, he’d start apologising (for what he didn’t know), and you’d end up laughing at your silly boyfriend, who’d stand there with a question mark above his head because what the hell was going on? you’d just coo at him and kiss him (he still wouldn’t know what had just happened, but hey, at least he got his kiss)

❥ wonwoo 

(dare to avoid this man’s kiss and i am going to hunt you, and kill you). if you ignore his kisses wonwoo will get sad. not like cheol in a “i will whine and throw a tantrum” way, but in a way where you can clearly see the corners of his mouth turning downwards. he’d be the epitome of this 🥺 emoji (the funniest thing is when he tries to act like he doesn’t care, but then he goes around with his big sparkly eyes, and the smallest pout, acting like a kicked puppy). i know a lot of people see wonwoo as someone cold that doesn’t like physical affection, but i don’t see him like that at all. yes, he might be too shy to initiate hugs and cuddles himself, but he thrives off of your touch, and hugs, and kisses, etc. so he’d turn into a lil sad cuddlebug when you avoid his kisses

❥ woozi 

jihoon would be so understanding if you ever avoided his kiss because as someone who really values his personal space, he gets that sometimes you’re just not in the mood for affection, and physical touch - he would never want to make you uncomfortable, thus he wouldn’t think much of you ignoring his kiss. and that alone would melt your heart because get yourself a man who’s so understanding of your comfort, and would not throw a tantrum just because of a kiss (i’m looking at you choi seungcheol). but, the second you start avoiding more of his kisses, he immediately starts suspecting that something’s off, and that it has to be one of silly pranks. when you ignore his goodnight kiss, which you usually happily accept, he’s sure you’re just messing with him (which he instantly calls you out for). woozi would find your commitment to the bit so funny, you’re seriously something else. to end your prank with a bang, he’d grab your chin and place a peck on your lips, and go to sleep like nothing happened

❥ dk 

to be honest, you’d break his heart by avoiding his kisses, so please don’t do that. seokmin would straight up start spiralling and overthinking because what if he had said something hurtful to you, what if he had forgotten an important date, what if he had bought the wrong flavour of your favourite snack, what if he hadn’t given you your goodnight kiss. there would be so many “what if’s” in his head. he’d be the epitome of a kicked puppy, and yes - just because you avoided one of his kisses. not to be dramatic, but dk would feel like his entire world was crumbling, you never avoided his kisses, so why did you do it all of the sudden. obviously after seeing his reaction you'd immediately explain that you didn’t mean to make him upset, etc etc. and he’d demand extra cuddles and kisses before bed because hello that was so mean??? later, though, he’d realise how dramatic he was about all of it, and you’d end up laughing so much during your nighttime cuddle session

❥ mingyu 

yeah, not on his watch. the second he catches you avoiding his kiss you’re trapped in his embrace with a very offended puppy expression from mingyu, and a demand for an explanation why you dare to ignore his kiss. he will not let you walk away before you tell him why you even thought of avoiding his kiss, and an apology in the form of even more kisses. the thing with mingyu is that he can be as petty as coups and jeonghan, so even after your apology he’d still give you an attitude throughout the day, and even go as far as avoiding some of your kisses (which he realised wasn’t that great of an idea, because it made him even more grumpy and sulky), so at some point he’d just trap you in a bear hug and apologise, shyly asking for a peck

❥ minghao 

xu mighao is a petty, petty man. he immediately knew what you were up to by avoiding his morning kiss, while you were making breakfast, so don’t be surprised with no more kisses for you for the day. hao would find it so amusing, because - on one hand, you know him well enough to know how your little pranks always end (with him not falling for it), on the second he’d think it was adorable how you couldn’t help yourself (you still had the hope that someday he’d fall for a prank). the small smirk on his face anytime you’d (not so) subtly try to kiss him would annoy you so much, but hey - you were the one to avoid his kiss in the first place. all jokes aside, he’d think you were so cute, sulking at the end of the day because you didn’t get to kiss him, and as a small apology he’d give you all of the kisses you missed throughout the day (can you hear his giggles in between the kisses because i can) 

❥ seungkwan 

malfuntiones because his first instinct is to whine and pout, but after a second he’s all grumpy and you’re rewarded with the boo seungkwan side eye. does not like when you avoid any type of his affection, especially if it's his kisses (and he was in practice for the whole day, why don’t you want to kiss him), so he’d just sulk around with an attitude because ignoring his kisses is not allowed in this household. but after some time he gets tired of the “why did you ignore me”, so he’d strike again with his kisses (don’t avoid them the second time, or seungkwan will get really annoyed with you). on the other hand, seungkwan is another member of the “petty” squad, so if he was feeling particularly evil that day, he’d just proceed with ignoring your kisses as well :))) (then both of you would end up grumpy and annoyed)

❥ vernon 

doesn’t pay much attention to it - not because he doesn’t care about your kisses, but similarly to woozi - he understands that everyone has their boundaries, and maybe you weren’t feeling in the mood for kissing at that moment, or maybe you just needed some space. it doesn’t really matter, your personal space is sacred to vernon, so he’d never do anything to cross it. of course he’d get a bit sulky (he’d never show it, though) if you kept ignoring his kisses, but he still wouldn’t try to force anything on you. he’d maybe mention it as a passing though, why you were avoiding his kisses, mainly to make sure you weren’t upset. then you’d kind of realise that, yes - you did ignore his kisses, but it was a bit of an accident? and vernon would immediately assure you that he didn’t mind, and that as long as you were happy, he was happy too

❥ chan

please, don’t avoid his kisses. poor baby would immediately think he did something wrong, because you never ignore his kisses, so obviously he did something to upset you. chan wouldn’t ask you if something was wrong, though, he’d be afraid of upsetting you even more, which would leave him with a small pout and sad puppy eyes. and while normally he isn't the most energetic person, you’d immediately notice the lack of his “spark”, and his usual excitement over the smallest things, which could mean only one thing - he was overthinking you avoiding his kisses. so please, give him lots of reassuring kisses, and tell him you love him

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[nathaslosthershit]

Passenger Princess Piastri (OP81)

Summary: Oscar hates driving outside of F1, you are sick of driving him everywhere and have tried everything to curb his obsession with being a passenger princess, but you may have stumbled upon a new method of making him get behind the wheel. (Aka Oscar's wife finds a new upside to her pregnancy)

'Oh having a husband who races cars for a living must be so nice, you have a built in personnel driver!'

Unfortunately, you are dating Oscar Piastri, a man who has trained in the art of guilting you into driving.

It was always something new, 'I don't like driving on the streets in anywhere but Australia', 'i have been driving all weekend, can't you just take the reins this one time', 'I know it is summer break, but you look so hot behind the wheel, I just want to appreciate my pretty wife while I have her with me'.

And you gave in, every time. It got to the point where he didn't even ask, just happily hopped into the passenger seat while you'd sigh and get behind the wheel.

But it had to to end. Oscar's reign as passenger princess had turned into a passenger queen, and you were going to force him to abdicate.

It started with little things; not joining him on errands you didn't need to go on, putting so much stuff in the passenger seat he had to sit in the back, not unlocking the car until he moved.

It worked well, but unfortunately he eventually caught on to all of your ways and found loopholes. He'd beg, and beg, and beg for you to go on errands with him, he knew if he could produce a few tears and a line about how much he loves doing these little domestic tasks with you, you'd give in. He would just move your stuff, all of it, or if he thought ahead, stuff so many things into the back you 'couldn't possible expect him to go back there'. He would just wait, and wait, and wait until you unlocked the car, doesn't matter if you had time sensitive plans, he would happily arrive late in the passenger seat, he'd even blame it on you.

This back and forth lasted years, he didn't care, he wasn't going to give up, but neither were you.

When your first thought upon seeing the positive pregnancy test was that you were going to milk this for all its worth and make sure the next 9 months + were passenger seat filled for you, maybe you should have reevaluated the situation, clearly it had gone too far.

You felt better though when you saw the same realization hit Oscar soon after you told him the news.

"Yep! You are not getting a free ride for a very long time, honey." You said, giddy at the look of despair on your husband's face.

"Please, come on, don't you think thats dramatic? You are pregnant, not incapacitated."

"You are so hypocritical to call me dramatic! You drive for a living, Oscar, yet you force your beautiful and amazing wife to drive you around as your personal chauffeur! You did this to me, and now you have got to pay the piper my friend."

"Wouldn't I be the piper in this case?" He was trying to distract you with a dirty joke, and damn it almost worked.

"No, because I am playing you, lovie. Plus, I am holding precious cargo now, don't think I won't call your mom or sisters to yell at you if you try to make me drive."

You felt victorious as you saw all the fight leave his eyes. Maybe it was cruel to use your pregnancy against your husband to force him to do a task he hated doing. Maybe it was evil to feel giddy about how you now had a new method of getting him to drive you places. You weren't saying you'd get pregnant again in the future just to win this ridiculous stand-off you two had, but it was definitely an added bonus.

A/N: I don’t know what this is guys I just sat down and wrote something I had no preconceived plans I just knew my Oscar girlies were hungry and needed to be fed

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

01 — TOO YOUNG TO KNOW IT GETS BETTER

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3.

<- previous part | next part ->

You almost worshipped him.

It wasn’t because of his status – although, that certainly played a role in it all – and it wasn’t because of his bank statements.

No. Phillip Graves was one of the best men you’d ever known.

Or so you had thought.

Turns out, no matter how well he looked after his men – his ‘girl’ – and no matter how charismatic he was, that wouldn’t, couldn't change his roots. And, at those very roots, was decay. Evil in its most purest of forms; a tantalisingly devastating mix of every sin.

The most prevalent one?

Greed. 

He was a greedy, greedy man, and he would stop at nothing to have it all. Even if he knew the fall out; even if he knew that he could never go back to the man he once was.

Phillip Graves didn’t care. Not in the slightest.

And it was you that would pay the ultimate price.

*

Rain beats down your back in heavy sheets as you stand, the harsh night littered with flashlights and car sirens.

It’s cool, just this side of too cold, and it has the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the temperature.

The temperature, and…

“Yup-yup,” the two men to your right call into their comms. You remain silent, but it goes unnoticed. Your eyes are trained to the paved street, rippling with the rainwater, littered with streaks of red.

Blood stains this town, and you haven't done anything to stop it.

“Let’s go.”

Raising your head, you meet the eyes of the operative who, ranks-wise, is below you. Really, you should be reprimanding him for his quip, but you understand the annoyance. You’re being quiet – something quite unusual for your normally direct and authoritative nature.

Tightening your grip around the shiny, water-slicked gun in your hand, you give him a sharp nod in response.

Seemingly satisfied, he turns, and you follow him along the sidewalk of the narrow, stone streets. Shops line either side of the area, their front-windows smashed and the products inside thrown about.

It’s like your heart has launched itself into your throat, the constant thrum of it setting your nerves alight.

“Three-zero, I want you and your two to find those Brits. We’ve got the cops. Copy?” 

That once reassuring, adoring voice is now cold, void of any emotion he used to have. It makes tears burn at the back of your vision – if you were a weaker woman, they’d have fallen. Instead, you press down the button for your comms.

“Copy, Sir. Three-zero out.”

The fact that you manage to get those words out is a feat in and of its own.

It feels as though you’re lost at sea, with nothing to hold onto. Buoyant, but barely – every wave threatening to pull you under for good. To smother your silent cries for help, for guidance, for something to keep you grounded.

But there is no sea, and there is no support.

“You two go up ahead, I’ll search the house here,” you say, voice thick with demand. You didn’t have to decide anything right now. You just had to be the leader you were, and do what you’ve always done.

“Copy,” your two subordinates say, moving up further.

With their absence, you find that you can breathe – as if a weight has been lifted off of your chest, and you can finally fill your lungs.

You’re alive. You’re alive. You’re alive.

The mantra helps, surprisingly, and you hold onto those two words like they’re your only lifeline.

Through the thick of night and rain, you can see the door to the house on your left. It’s been left open, which means that either it’s already been searched – which you doubt – or… Someone else has been in there.

Gun secured in your grip, you move to the door with soft footing, quiet enough to not be heard over the shouts of other shadows just a few ways away. The constant pattering of the overhead storm clouds slow, just the slightest, allowing for a bit more sight.

Using your shoulder to further open the door with a creak, you take note of your surroundings immediately.

There’s a flickering light to the room on your far right, a living area, most likely. To your left is a short hallway, but none of the doors alert you of any occupancy. The place has been torn apart, pictures scattered along the wooden floor, shards of glass decorating the space along with it.

It sends a pang of guilt through your chest.

These were families being torn apart by your commander, your company. And for what? What was Graves’ angle here? 

You’d been left on base to keep things running smoothly while Graves and unit one worked with the 141 and Las Vaqueros. You knew very little about any of this, and when you’d been called out to Las Almas, to aid with this?

This wasn’t what you fought for. This wasn’t what you would ever support, not in a million years.

But going against direct orders was going against your commander, and your livelihood. Shadow Company was all you’d known since your childhood. Having been hired when Graves was merely a young-upstart with big dreams, you were quickly swept up in the community of it all. They were your family, and Graves was the only semblance of a ‘loved one’ you had.

And now?

Now, he was sending you on a bounty hunt, for two men who, from your limited knowledge, didn’t deserve death. They were the good guys, and although most of your existing bias towards the two was due to rumours back on base, your intuition said that they were good men. And your intuition had never steered you wrong, not once.

Your mind feels like a never ending turbine as you move through the house, eyeing the barren walls and smashed vases. 

Exhaling a low, deep breath, you tighten your hold on your weapon. It’s more of a comfort, at this point. Which is odd, considering that its sole purpose is to kill and destroy.

Through the dim light, you manage to find a set of stairs. They’re dingy, and the patterned carpet is mildew-riddled as you make your way to the next floor with slow, careful steps.

You’ve decided to keep your flashlight off, just in case it brings any extra attention to you.

As soon as you make it to the last step, a sense of… wrongness settles in your system. Something’s off, and it’s almost as if there’s an alarm ringing in your ears at the realisation. 

Someone’s here.

Grounding yourself, both mentally and physically, you prepare to push through the hallway.

Setting aside your mental dilemma, you remind yourself that the physical battle is far more vital to your life right now. If you lose that, you lose your life.

If you lose your morals?

You just suppose you lose yourself.

The sound of a radio switching on has your senses alerted like a switchboard completely alight. 

Stepping into the hallway, your chest constricting, you snap your gaze to both of your sides. With the little-to-no light, you can barely make out your limbs, let alone your surroundings. Your spatial awareness was solid, but with conditions like this? Near impossible.

The entire corridor is shrouded in shadow, the incessant rain outside and the screams of the cartel’s policemen ringing in your ears. 

It reeks of death and despair, and your skin is coated in a thin sheen of chilled sweat.

The third door to your left is creaked open, just the slightest sliver, but it catches your attention like a moth to a flame. Keeping your frame encased in the darkest of the shadows, you move with patient, skillful steps towards the door.

A moment passes, tense and nerve-wracking in a way no other mission has ever been.

A breath in.

A breath out.

You push open the door, gun raised, ready for anything –

Nothing.

Quickly checking over the room to your right, you see nothing but bashed up mattresses and blood-stained carpet.

Just as you’re about to turn to check behind the door, two things happen at once.

One, you get slammed to the ground, your head knocking against the hard flooring and sending a burst of pain through your temple, your gun skidding across the floor to your left.

Two –

“Fuckin’ Christ!”

A man – scottish, that much is prevalent – whisper-shouts. You squint, the pain of the sudden fall throwing you off.

Not a second later, however, you manage to roll, shoving him off of you with a grunt. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness, but you manage to make out the impossibly muscled frame of the man who’d just fallen on top of you.

He’s tall, not as giant as some of the men you served alongside with, but tall nonetheless. That’s all of the visual information you manage to gain before he sends an elbow to your gut, evoking a hiss through your gritted teeth.

You wriggle away, kicking out with your right foot and hitting what you think is his chin, considering his pained grunt.

“You bloody bastard,” he snaps, hand wrapping around your ankle and pulling you.

Your responding squeak is likely the most undignified sound you have ever made in your life, but it gives the man pause. Enough of one so as to allow you to wrench your leg back and careen it back into his face.

“Shut the fuck up!” You hiss back, all too aware of the likelihood that your men will show up and shoot first, ask later. 

“Are you feckin’ stupid, lass?” He retorts, although his tone is dutifully lower as he scrambles to grab your legs once more, his fist finding your belt and pulling you towards him.

Your attempts to dig your heels into the ground to prevent yourself from being pinned by him are fruitless, his strength undoubtedly superior to yours. That was a fact all too common when it came to your hand-to-hand fights, but luckily, it was just one factor of many.

“Are you?” Your shock is palpable as he gets his other hand around the other side of your belt, using the grip to pull himself over you.

His torso is pressed against your own as he goes to pin your hands, but with one quick manoeuvre, you wrap your legs around his waist and turn.

Utilising your lower body strength, you’re able to reverse the position, your hips pinning his to the ground. In one sweep of your hands, you collect both of his wrists and force them into the carpet. The room fills with your harsh, panted breaths, the outside commotion only a distant soundtrack.

“Yer supposed to kill me now, Shadow,” he says, a torment, a threat. 

You swallow, once, an unsure thing. 

He’s right, of course. He should be dead by now, bleeding out onto the floor. You should be comming to your fucking Commander, and telling him that one of the men he’s after has just been reported KIA. That’s what should be happening.

So how come it’s not?

“I know,” you say, the words falling through your lips despite the internal conflict in your head. “You should be dead.”

He mirrors your confusion with raised brows, and it’s then that you can feel the blood trickling onto your hand. He’s bleeding down his arm, you realise with a start. He’s wounded.

Flitting your gaze to the floor up ahead, you catch sight of your gun, only a few steps away. One shot is all you’d need. One second, and that mouth of his would never open again.

The sole window in the room flashes with a burst of lightning, and that short second of light lets you catch sight of his features. Blood coats his jaw – from your kicks, maybe – and he’s got dirt caked onto his cheek. His stubble has clearly missed a few shaves, and his mohawk isn’t gelled.

“Still waiting, Shadow,” he says. And although he’s quiet, the words feel like a yell in the tense room. Like a shout directly into your soul, screaming for you to sort your shit out.

You go to respond – with what, you’re not sure – when the man underneath you manages to rip his hands from your grip and swing them around the back of your neck. He pulls you forward, your neck fitting into the crook of his elbow as he squeezes.

When you try to inhale, you end up choking on a cough. He’s strangling you, you realise, with his fucking biceps.

There’s mere moments for you to make a decision before you pass out, or he breaks your neck. Moments for you to decide what the fuck you can do.

Balling your right hand into a tight fist, you punch into his nose, a sickening crack making your teeth slide together. He swears, rapid-fire, a few Gaelic-sounding words slipping out along with them. It’s enough of a distraction to let you wrench out of his hold with a cough, wincing when you claw at his arm and draw blood. Thank fuck for fingerless gloves.

Crawling forward as he brings a hand up to his now-bleeding nose, you’re just a breath away from reaching your gun when his hand grabs into your hair and pulls, eliciting a cry from you.

It’s a dirty move, but this is a dirty fight.

“Fucking – let go!” You grit out, the pain of the tightening on your scalp unique and not at all tolerable.

He just pulls tighter in response, and as you try and reach the gun, your fingers fall just millimetres short. It’s maddening, your emotions out of whack and your mental compass skewed beyond belief.

He should be fucking dead. He should be fucking dead.

So why wasn’t he?

You realise that he’s using his grip on you for leverage, to move himself closer to the weapon. Reaching towards his bare arm, you manage to catch your hand around it, nails digging into his wet skin.

He lets out a pained groan, and it becomes quickly apparent to you that he’s been shot in that arm. Moving your fingers, your index finger pushes into the open wound.

His grip on your hair goes lax, and he stops moving towards the gun long enough to allow you to move on top of him once more, pinning him underneath your weight. You’re both evidently weaker than the last time you were in this position, and you’re about to do something, something, something –

“Johnny? How copy?” An urgent, oddly panicked voice echoes around the room. It’s crackled, in only the way a radio’s can, and the two of you stun yourselves into freezing. His communications have been dislocated, and now they’re loud and clear for both of you to hear. “Johnny, what the fuck is happening?”

“Shit,” Johnny curses, head falling back against the ground in exasperation. 

You’re not sure when you’d laxed your grip from his wound, your hand loose around his arm. You’re not sure when you’d subconsciously started avoiding fatal moves.

At this point, you’re not sure about anything at all.

Although it’s hard to see, you’re sure that the two of you make eye contact.

Neither of you make a move.

“Soap!”

Slowly, Johnny moves his hand to the communicator in his vest, pressing the button to allow for his voice to carry over to the man on the other end. 

“A little occupied, Sir,” he murmurs, tightly.

If you move your hand to his throat, or use this as a distraction, you could have him dead before the other man could even register his words.

“I can’t get a visual on you,” the other man quips back, voice laced with thinly-veiled worry. “Johnny, if you die, I’m fuckin’ killing your ass.”

You bite back a slightly crazed chuckle at that statement, and by the shift in Johnny’s chest, he does too.

Johnny doesn’t turn off his communicator. The other man – Ghost, if you’re correct – will be able to hear everything you say.

Ghost and Soap.

Jesus H. Christ. Soap – Johnny MacTavish – the 141 operator you heard whispers about throughout your unit – he was underneath you. He was on the run from your commander. He was the man you were assigned to fucking kill.

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

You’re alive.

“Shadow Three-Zero, what’s your status?”

Oh, fuck. Fucking hell.

Both you and Johnny’s eyes dart to your own communicator – the earpiece scattered along the floor just as his had been.

Graves’ voice. It sends a shiver down your spine for all the wrong reasons, and the lump in your throat doubles in size. If it’s at all possible, the rain outside grows louder, and more gunshots echo in your ears.

“Shadow Three-Zero. Have you got ‘em? Don’t go two-timing me now, babe.”

How he’s – how he’s being so light, so carefree while storming these streets and murdering fathers, brothers, sons in cold blood – it cements a thought in your head. Out of the storm of them, the endless noise of them all, one becomes concrete. Factual. A single truth in your world of lies.

You press down your communicator button.

“Haven’t found them yet, sir. Wouldn’t dream of going against you.”

“Atta girl,” he responds, a light chuckle carrying over the radio. “After this is all done, we can have a celebration of our own, hey?”

Your mouth is barren of moisture, your tongue a heavy weight that feels all too useless as you reply once more. It doesn’t go unnoticed how neither Soap, or Ghost over the comms, say a word.

“It’ll be my pleasure, sir.”

You rip off your communicator, throwing it across the room. It sets the course of the rest of your life, you’re sure. You still do it.

All the while, you hold Soap’s gaze.

He hasn’t killed you. He could’ve, you realise, he really could’ve. He had the opportunity. Still does.

But.

You’re alive.

And so is he.

“What’re you doin’, Shadow?” Johnny finally asks, equally suspicious and curious. His tone is tight, almost as much as his body is against your own. 

You’d almost forgotten that he’s underneath you. Weaponless, and bleeding out. Wounded.

On the run.

Your eyes are wide, manic, maybe, as you say with shaky breaths;

“This isn’t right. I – I don’t fight for this. You guys, you,” squeezing your eyes shut, if only for a brief moment, you continue, slower, “This isn’t the Graves I know. I’m not going to be on the wrong side of history. I’d rather betray him than stand by his side with blood on my hands.”

Soap must sense your conviction, your wobbly words holding such truth and capability in them, because he nods, sharply.

“Johnny,” the radio chimes in again, the man’s tone a warning. “Don’t.”

Soap works his mouth, a crease forming between his blood-stained brows. If you were at all a poet, you’d akin his blue eyes to a storm-brewed sea. But you’re a soldier, so they’re merely obvious in the window’s scarce light, a stark contrast to the reds and darkness all around you both.

You’re not sure what’s wrong with you. You’d clearly hit your head too hard when Soap had crashed into you, or you’d been drugged earlier.

“I have intel,” you blurt out, like a crazed lunatic. That description is, unfortunately, a little too fitting to your current state. “I’m – I’m a fucking good fighter. You help me, I help you.”

“We don’t need your help,” Soap quickly, almost automatically, retorts. But his words seem weak, his certainty nowhere on your own.

“You’re shot and on the run with no weapons,” you reply, slowly. Words. You were good at words, at debates. You could survive this. Maybe. “I know Graves. I know my men. And I know that I’d rather be a traitor than a war criminal.”

That’s maybe the most true thing you’d thought, or said, since you’d first been asked to head to Las Almas with an order to kill.

There’s silence. 

A few beats pass before you open your mouth once more, tone just this side of pleading, “I’ll help you guys survive this. If you help me take down Graves, and support me – if you give me the assets I need. That’s all I’m asking.”

“We don’t trust you,” Soap says, and you nod.

“I don’t exactly have faith in you either. But it’s this or we all end up dead.”

Ghost inputs something, this time. “If you two make it to the church, we’ll consider it.”

That’s the most you can ask for. The best possible outcome from you being the biggest fucking idiot to walk this earth. You were lucky that Soap was… merciful. Which was, all things considered, the weirdest component of this entire, messed up equation.

It seems like agreement passes through you all, like a sort of handshake. An invisible one, but a symbol of truce nonetheless.

“Get yer ass offa me,” Soap groans, breaking the tension of the room. 

Scrambling off of him, but keeping your wits about you, you realise that you’d virtually been laying on the man your entire conversation. Your ears burn in embarrassment.

“...Right. I’m taking my gun,” you murmur.

Which is, obviously, the worst thing to say.

“Are you feckin’ serious? Dinnae wanna work with an idiot, Jesus,” Soap immediately hisses out, getting up with a hand on his knee, bringing his other to press against his bullet wound with a wince. You think that Ghost says something similar, but it’s drowned out by Soap.

“I’m best with close-range, and I’m not the one wounded,” you immediately bite back, hand wrapping around said weapon and holding it to your chest, checking over the room for any more supplies. Luckily, unlike the man in front of you, you still have all of your supplies and gear. His top is thin, you think, and soaked through with both rain and blood. Your standard Shadow Company uniform still fits you like a second skin, and although wet, doesn’t soak into your bottom layers. Your tactical knife, still strapped to your thigh, is secure and perfectly in place.

How you’d not used it in that fight was a testament to your mindscape more than anything.

“How do I know ye won’t just shoot me when my back’s turned?” Soap shoots back, his tone a weapon in its own right. 

You raise a brow, and you hope that he can see it. “I would’ve done that already if that was my plan. And you’re calling me an idiot.”

“You’re a right ass,” he retorts, not unlike a petulant child.

“And you’re a right dickhead.” And, alright, you realise that you’re not much better, but it’s deserved.

“And you both need to hurry the fuck up.”

You and Soap both have the decency to wince at the man’s words, and you both shut up as you finish checking over yourselves. You, focusing on checking your straps and belt, and Soap, hissing about his wound.

…If this camaraderie lasted the night, you’d think about apologising for that move.

Checking over your gun, you move to slowly open the door as Soap fixes up his radio, putting his earpiece back in its place. You are, admittedly, a bit annoyed that you won’t be able to hear Ghost’s callouts, but again, you had a gun.

“Let’s go,” you softly say, tilting your head towards the door. Soap nods, clearly ready to meet back up with his Lieutenant and get out of here.

As you slowly open the door, guns raised and eyes alert, you let the reality of your situation settle over you like the world’s coldest blanket. You’re going against everything you’ve ever known, all because of your morals that had always been slightly off-centre. Came with the job, you supposed.

But this was uncharted territory. Directly betraying your unit, your men, your Commander, and helping the men you’re assigned to kill? Asking them for their help in return?

“Clear,” you softly report to Soap, who acknowledges your order with a low noise. Following you with silent steps down the stairs, you keep your gun raised as you check over the bottom floor, before signalling for him to exit through the front door with you.

As the two of you enter the laneway once more, your breath catches in your throat as you assess the damage.

You spot several bodies littering the streets as rain hits you once more, the presence of it oddly comforting throughout it all. A truck up ahead has its lights on, the red of the brakes shining against the wet pavement like the pools of blood not three metres away from it.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap murmurs from behind you, and you can’t help but agree with his sentiment.

This was pure bloodshed, at the hands of the one man you thought you could trust.

Betrayal tastes oddly sour in your mouth. Betrayal like this, on all sides, it’s like being suffocated by two cloths at once. Two very bloody, very assaulting cloths, at that.

Soap seems to be communicating with Ghost as the two of you make your way down the street, considering the back-and-forth whispers from Soap. He seems almost. Flirty. Which is a stark realisation, and truly, the least of your worries right now.

“If you can find bandages, or something close to it, I’ll get that arm of yours fixed up.”

You keep your tone low, careful of your surroundings as you see Soap nod, albeit almost in shock, in your periphery. Keeping your gaze forward, you move along the sidewalk.

The beauty of these shops, and this community, has been tarnished by the massacre of your Shadows. Your heart aches, seeing it all – the smashed windows, the blood, the distant sound of screaming and crying.

You and Soap make it about a block in silence, before flashlights ahead have you grabbing onto Soap’s shirt and pulling him into the open door of the shop to your left, heart beating rapidly in your chest.

“Shadow Three-Zero’s gone silent,” you hear a familiar voice say. Your subordinate – one of the two you’d sent to check the houses up ahead. “Reckon she’s dead?”

Soap, for his part, is silent where he’s been pushed up against the wall, your head meeting his collarbone. 

“Nah. She mighta slept her way to the top, but she’s good. Probably gone dark so she can suck Graves off on the side or something.”

Your breath comes out in a sharp exhale, your fists tightening unknowingly onto the fabric of Soap’s shirt. He doesn’t even breathe in response.

The other chuckles. “Fuckin’ slut. Can’t believe she gets to order us around when we all know why she’s here.”

And, oh, does that make your stomach turn. You were many things, but you were not one to abuse a position like that. They knew nothing of your struggles, or your relationships, or –

“Fuckin’ cocksuckers,” Soap grumbles, and that shocks you. For a man in the military to recognise misogyny like that was, really, unheard of.

You ignore that thought.

“Shut up.”

He does.

The two Shadows continue walking down the street, and you quickly peer out of the front window to watch them head down another sidealley, taking their thoughts with them.

“Come on,” is all you say, and Johnny follows tightly behind you as you continue down the way you were heading. 

You find an alleyway to your left, and you decide to follow it. You can see a flashlight scanning over the street further down. Shadows were everywhere, but they were pushing forward like a tsunami over a coastal town, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake.

Soap follows you without question, which is odd, but you’re not about to complain.

“Ghost says that there’s underground tunnels – we can get to the church through ‘em,” Soap murmurs as he taps your shoulder. You nod, not looking back as you search for any telling of where the best route would be.

After a few minutes, the two of you find yourselves nearing the tunnels Ghost had spoken about.

It’s when you’re about to head into the deep end – quite literally, considering the flooding – that an all too familiar and bone-chilling voice yells out from the right of you both, down another street.

“She’s gone dark – you will find her alive, and if she’s dead, you will be too!” Graves roars, and your heart skips a beat. “She could be hurt, or captured – she is your top priority now, Shadows!”

There’s a chorus of agreement, and if you look down, you’re almost certain that you’ll find your stomach laying at your feet.

A greedy, greedy man. That was what Phillip Graves was – now, more than ever.

If you were a weaker woman, a civilian, maybe, instead of a seasoned soldier, you’d have vomited by now.

Instead, you shoot Soap a look.

“Ghost still at the church?” Is all you ask.

Soap nods. “Yeah. Lt’s talkin’ my ear off,” he says with an eye roll, but his lips quirk into a half-tilted grin more resemblant of a satisfied pup.

“Didn’t think the 141 was so close,” you reply, and you could slap yourself for how nosy you sound. You’re not, not in the slightest – all you cared about was surviving both Graves and them.

Soap’s eyes hold an indecipherable gleam to them when he responds, a touch domestically, “You have no idea.”

You itch to delve deeper, to unpack that statement that seems to hold so many layers, but you keep your mouth respectfully shut.

And you prepare to meet Ghost at the end of the tunnel.

a/n. cutely drops this and hides!! jk but umm idk man this fic idea has been nibbling at my brain and GAWDDD smth about it just. got the juices flowing. this is my personality now thanks gn. if you guys enjoyed please comment or reblog or follow!! ty so very muchly ily all &lt;3

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 23RD JENIFER'S BODY ━━ eijirou kirishima + monsterfucking !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. eijirou kirishima + monsterfucking. there’s something weird going on with you. you’re like…actually evil. not college girl evil, and it’s kinda hot. (5.5K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, dark content, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, friends to lovers (?), mentions of death/murder, demons, gore, choking, gags, marking, blood play, knife play, creampies, cockwarming, monsterfucking, rough sex, unprotected sex, demon + fem!reader, monster-hunter!kirishima.

୨୧ — director’s note. back again for another week! sorry for the delay on this one! it's for sure one of the spookier fics so pls proceed with caution and enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

what does it mean to die?

by definition and according to the oxford dictionary — to die means to lose the life of a person or organism. any creature that breathes (to all capacities) the same components as air as yourself, that moves, that communicates, that exists. but what does it actually mean to die? 

death is a concept the most humans find difficulty in coming to terms with. there is fear in not knowing what comes after or how it might feel when the flickering flame of your life is finally blown out. do you really see every choice you’ve ever made flash before your eyes? does it hurt? what emotions do you feel? regret, sadness, pain or happiness? 

life can be so fickle, yet is always taken for granted and in a number of ways too. those that exist at this very moment don’t dare to consider the long run, they live in the moment — yes. but do they appreciate it? and then there are those that take life, disrupt the beauty of its natural course and take away a being’s chance to see the world for what it really is. to ruin their chances of love, longing and laughter. how cruel of a human do you have to be to want to hurt someone in such a way? 

these are the thoughts that have plagued eijirou kirishima’s mind as of late, haunting his every waking moment from the second his eyes open, every hour in between, and to the second that they close. death has been a constant theme across the campus of yueii recently. ever since the fire at the beginning of the school year had burned the college’s local bar — it’s been everywhere. 

the disappearances, the murders, the deaths. 

it started with that girl, ochako uraraka, from the college cheerleading team. she went missing after a match at home and was found in the woods later on. then there was kyouka jirou — some emo looking girl who liked to skip class to play her music obnoxiously loud outside of the campus library. her friends shinsou and kaminari had been deeply affected by that. 

and as of yesterday, mina ashidou. 

she was the kind of girl eijirou would have been into if it wasn’t for his long-term boyfriend katsuki bakugou. she was bubbly and loud, but never treated anyone without an ounce of kindness and warmth — mina loved mornings, loved being in class and loved caring for her friends. the redhead had gotten close to her over the course of last semester, mina having joined him for a portion of his major (sports medicine) that coincided with her psych course. during that time relishing in the gift of her friendship and the kind gestures she offered like coffees for nine AM classes or sharing her notes whenever kirishima found things hard to follow. 

she was found dead in one of the newly built frat houses just north of her last class with eijirou kirishima. and like most of the other victims, it looked as though she’d been chewed out by animals, as if she was scared right up until her last moments. 

everyone had begged the question, who would do such a thing? why would they do it? students begin to flee, head home despite the year of lectures and assignments ahead whilst parents sent angry emails demanding that the university do more to protect their children. the killer remained at large, without a pattern, without a trademark nor a trace of evidence. nothing that could give investigators the slightest clue was ever left behind. 

the only coincidence kirishima could come up with, was the very fact that you didn’t seem to care about what happened to mina even though you had been planning a date with her just hours before her death. he distinctly remembers your conversation in the halls, how you’d barely paid the pink haired girl any mind until eijirou struck up a casual (albeit, a little, flirty) conversation with her somewhere along the line. if there’s one thing that kirishima knows about you, his best friend, is that you hate when he’s the centre of attention.

he’s known you for practically as long as he’s been alive, you’ve been friends for the same amount of time too and through years of emotional bonding — eijirou has noted so many little oddities about you. things that he once adored, at least he thought that he did. you hated it when your outfits clashed, you had always jokingly claimed that it made you look like siblings rather than lovers. you were always so possessive, it took you months to accept bakugou as a partner and even more for kirishima to finally get over you… having the inkling feeling that you were leading him on. 

to him, you were everything. a blessing wrapped in the shape of a wonderful human being, worth more than any gold or money a man could find. he loved you more than he should have for a friend, something he was a little too ashamed to admit — he let you take advantage of the kindest parts of his nature because of it. sometimes it almost felt like you wanted kirishima, like you needed him despite swearing that you weren't into the burly redhead. though nowadays, there’s a sinister twist in to his gut whenever you’re around — a cool chill that settles in his bones and a pang of fright to his chest where his heart is. like a knife has sliced right through it. 

you’re not the same as you were before. 

he gets flashes, visions of thinks he feels like he’s not supposed to see — your eyes disappearing into your skull and reappearing in a twisted shade of dark red, deep enough to rival blood diamonds and rubies. oftentimes there’s a devil’s tail and demon fangs that drip with a viscous substance akin to the one that runs through his veins and carries oxygen to his lungs. and in the days after his visions, you seem more full of life, more confident and hotter than previous ones. 

that’s when it hits him, like a sturdy building coming down on eijirou all at once. rose tinted glass shatters around him, knocking his skin — making him bleed as it’s shards form a truth that he has been dreading. 

whatever it is that you are, whatever it is that you’ve become is the reason for all of this death. 

eijirou kirishima’s best friend… you… are a demon, a demonised college student that kills college girls for sport.

in one of his dreams, eijirou sees you soaked to the bone in blood like you've drowned in a rouge tainted oil slick. you’re still as ethereal as you’ve ever been, perhaps even glowing — and even though it’s just a dream and he knows what you’ve done, he still finds himself that boy who years for you and your body against his. on top of his. moving with his—

shooting up from the comfort of his sheets, kirishima palms the dull ache at the forefront of his mind as he tries to rid himself of all thoughts regarding you. funnily enough, you’re already there, waiting for him practically naked at the foot of his bed as if eijirou had used a demon circle to summon you in the middle of the night. it never used to be like that, where he’d call for you and you’d actually answer. 

you’ve been in his room more times than he can count — put posters up with him, had sleepovers, danced to old music on his stereo tapes. but this time isn’t the same. firstly, you’ve never been bare below the waist and secondly, you’ve never looked this insane or deranged. the hairs on the back of the redhead’s neck stand on end, his spiked pulse — elevated and alive steadily thumps through him so loud he’s scared that you might hear it… and yet….

“what are you even doing here? don’t you know it’s late?” kirishima yawns, stretching out his tired limbs as he holds his arms above his head for some relief in his taut muscles. 

peeking a crimson eye open to look at you, the smear of blood at the corner of your plump lips doesn’t go unnoticed by him, though, it still doesn’t elicit the reaction eijirou expects from himself. the innate human desire to survive. 

“i owe you an explanation.” the smile that you give him is too fast to be genuine, just barely reaching your big shiny eyes. there’s that feeling again, the knots in eijirou’s stomach — the ones that let him know something is off. “you know what i am, i want to tell you why.” your tone is sickly sweet like molasses in his ears, innocent as if you’re not a demon. 

as if you’re not the one behind all of this death. you explain to kirishima in detail about the night a group of bandmates sacrificed you to satan so that they could go global. how they mistook you for a virgin sacrifice. how the devil resides within you now. you tell him about the blood of your victims and the missing people. how it’s the only thing you can stomach. how it makes you grow stronger, how it heals you, how much you love the new version of you. the murderous you. 

he thinks you might have gone insane when you flip a lighter from your pocket to burn your tongue — showing how you recover almost instantly. it’s only then that fear strikes eijirou in the chest with the power of a lightning bolt — realising that he’s well and truly lost his best friend. to satan or to insanity. 

poor, gullible, eijirou kirishima — for doubting that his best friend could be capable of such heinous crimes. and while you stand there, looking more alive and more beautiful than ever… he just can’t fight the feeling that makes him want to run. 

the red head quickly realises that he’s no longer faster or stronger than you. for your demon powers have you reaching the bed before he can even throw off the sheets. your toned thighs swing around his waist to lock eijirou down to the bed, his back hitting the blankets with a dull thud and his wrist nearly crushed in your hand — wrestling his concealed knife away from your chest, just barely nicking you.

“why would you want to hurt me, eiji?” you comment softly, acting as if everything is as it were before you changed.  “it’s still the same old me!” the both of you are breathing deep from where your old friend thrashes underneath you, his pupils dilating and casting a dark shadow over his terrified red eyes. “i really don’t want to hurt you.” 

this could be it. he thinks. his life flashing before his eyes just like the stories say. “t-then don’t…” kirishima stutters, the pitch of his voice spiking as you shift on top of him — inspecting him as if he’s a piece of meat. you have him right where you want him, his blade under your control, his vital organs open and vulnerable. one wrong move and kirishima could be next on your list of life-force victims. “you don’t have to.” 

“you’re right… i don’t think i will.” cooing, you take your free hand down eijirou’s muscled body, tongue darting out to wet your lips while your hips grind down on his swelling erection — painfully hard from the mix of arousal and fear coursing through his blood stream. “on one condition,” you continue on, moaning lightly at the sensation of your clothed clit catching on his cockhead. “you let me feed from you.” 

“w-will you kill me?”

“only if you stop trying to kill me.” you’re not upset, from what he can tell — revelling in your best friend’s guilt and betrayal as his knife drags along your collarbones in a thin slice from where you’ve let your guard down. 

a crimson gaze flickers to all of the vital points on your face — searching for your innocence and any traces of who you once were. seizing the opportunity hiding within your hesitation and the crack in your resolve, kirishima tries once more to shove you off of him but makes the mistake of trusting your facade. he’s quick but you’re quicker, raking your nails over his toned stomach until they catch on the waistband of his shorts. as soon as his erection springs free — wetly slapping against his stomach whilst precum tangles in the coarse black of his pubic hair, you slither your hot cunt down on to him. 

straight to the hilt. 

your thighs either side of his angled hips keep the redhead anchored to his sheets and your hands splayed across his stomach stop him from writhing away from your quivering cunt as it clenches around him. not that he’d want to. pull out of you, of course. eijirou grows delirious, hot under the collar at the feeling of his weighty cock pulsing against your biscuits, squishy insides. a tender whimper bubbles up on his slightly chapped lips, his pointed teeth sinking into the swell of his lower one to try and muffle the pathetic sound. 

he can hardly believe this. that is best friend, whatever form you might be taking right now, is sitting on his fat, drippy dick like he’s always dreamed of. any guilt kirishima has pulsing through his veins (in regards to basically cheating on  bakugou, his boyfriend, no less) is replaced by white hot blistering lust. it burns at his nerve endings, painfully tremors through his erection trapped by your welcoming wet walls.  it leaks against pleasure spots in the form of sticky precum — white and thick as it paints your pussy while you cockwarm him. 

kirishima swallows and his adam’s apple bobs, he looks up at you through his dark long lashes without a word — afraid this his voice will fail him and end up in a moan.  

“please, eijirou,” you purr, completely devoid of any blame-worthiness or evidence of your wrong doings. you’ve killed people. innocent girls for your own bloodlust and now you’re where — seated on your bestie’s dick as if your crimes mean nothing. and with a pussy like yours, wrapped around kirishima so warmly and tightly, he might start to believe that you’re innocent too. “let me feed from you, promise i won’t hurt you. i just…need…”

leaning down towards his neck, your hips shift above his own, encouraging his heavy girth to sink deeper inside of you — walls rippling pleasurably around him. the sudden movement causes a low, and needy groan to take residence in kirishima’s chest — taking root in his lungs and other vital organs. his head tips back into the pillows, ruby, blood red locks tussled against their fabric as a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead and another down his chin. tracing the ridges of his adam’s apple and the column of his throat. 

his eyes don’t dare flutter shut, coasting over your every move as your lips ghost over his prominent collarbone and then his neck — pressing into his pulse pout where his heartbeat races, fear and adrenaline shooting through his body thanks to the steady thump of his heart. 

you hear it all, the frightened tune of eijirou’s bodily orchestra only causing your mouth to water. “just need to taste you…” pouting, you nudge the point at which his chiselled jaw meets his neck. “need you.”

slowly but surely, your hunger reveals your truest form — and instead of the sweet girl eijirou kirishima once new, you sprout demon horns and a tail, nails that could tear a throat out, teeth that could surely cause carnage and a feral grin proving to the redhead that you would eat him alive. in contrast, your tone is sweet like syrupy honey or hard candy, the kind that eijirou loves — it’s salacious and full of wanton and he knows that he should resist. but you’ve always had a way of getting what you want out of him — he can never say no to you. you are his girl after all. 

and no matter how hard he tries to escape your clutches — he will always be yours. 

“f-fine,” kirishima barks, albeit shakily. “t-take what you need. just as long as you promise not to kill me.” 

“pinky, baby.” comes your angelic coo, contrasting with the deep red of your own blood as it drips against kirishima’s golden boy skin. your hands massage over his sensitive pecs, smearing your hot blood over his nipples as they pebble under your fiendish touch. there’s a devilish spark in your pretty eyes once he agrees, and so, you latch onto his gorgeous, golden tanned skin ready to feed on kirishima to your heart's content. 

as the pointed edge of your teeth sink into eijirou’s neck, his hips instinctively turn upwards and nudge his thick cock against your womb while layers of your juices spiral down each prominent blue vein that decorates his shaft.  you bite down, hard, bruising him with shades of deep purple and midnight blue as if you’re creating a work of art.   you suck the life from kirishima, close to draining his blood as if you’re a vampire fledgling with her first catch of prey. 

there’s a weakness and a fuzziness that sits comfortably over eijirou’s brain, enhanced by the steady stream you set your hips — gently lifting and dropping them over the red head’s lap. the more energy, the more life force, that you drink from him — a mix of your blood and his glossing over your lips, the more turned on you feel. your cunt drips down his balls like a never ending tap, you’re so wet that a lewd slap echoes throughout your best friend’s bedroom. 

even though you’re the one in control, guiding the hum of ecstasy that courses throughout kirishima's entire body, the waves that make him tingle from the top of his head to the tips of his toes — there’s no doubt that he has you losing your composure. the delicious burn of his girth against the tight rim of your entrance every time you sink down on the redhead drives you up the wall and pulls innocent whimpers from the bloody seam of your lips. 

having him pressed up against your silken walls, bearing down on that special spot inside your swollen sinful pussy while you drain the man fry of his life force causes your jaw to go slack and tony spurts of his seed to coat your puffy folds. “oh fuck!” you drawl all high pitched, eyes disappearing into your skull as a bemused and blood-coated smile stretches across your angelic face. “you feel like heaven, eiji.” to pacify yourself, you lick over the puncture wound of your teeth that you’ve left against kirishima’s neck, grabbing him by the cheeks and tilting his head so you have access to the other side. “you taste so good, feel even better.” 

“y-yeah?” kirishima asks, his voice shaky and extra husky from the lust. against his better judgement, clouded by all that is you — his rough hands fall to your doughy hips, manoeuvring you on his throbbing dick to his liking. “i-i like the way you fuck me, baby. but please…please move a little faster…”eijirou feels like he’s going insane beneath you chasing your sweltering and souse sex like a man following a mirage to quench his thirst. he behinds to push upward where you bounce your ass and pull off his cock, your hips rocking together fluidly.  

his morals are completely abandoned, he could care less about the fact that you might be a killer, that you’re some kind of otherworldly being — especially when you ride him just like that. you release his raw bitten neck from your jaws of death, face and chin covered in blood and spit, while your hands dance down your chest and tweak at your nipples for your best friend’s viewing pleasure. he groans lowly at the sight, extending a thumb from your hip to reach between your doughy thighs and fat pussy lips so he can spread you wide open for him. 

“g-getting bold, are we eiji?” you simper, ruby red lips caught between your pointy teeth when the rough pad of his thumb grazes your swollen clit as it peaks from between your folds. feverishly, you grind against kirishima’s digit, leaving a treacle-like trace of your sweet nectar against his hand. “so nasty. trying to get me off while i drain you dry. you m-must be delirious. so cute.”

he hates the way that you mock him, poke fun at how fucked up kirishima is for you. even though he knows that you’re slowly but surely killing him, drinking his blood while you take a seat on his achy, wet cock — he can’t help but give into you. eijirou wonders if this is how your other victims went out, if your precious tits swaying in their hot faces were the last thing they saw before you took them out. it’s a crude thought, but it only serves to turn him on even more. picturing you this way above others, your skin shining in the moonlight from the perspiration that glitters over you along with your glistening slit that leaves webs of your slick in his pubic hair.  

while his thoughts escape him and his imagination runs wild, your next move catches the redhead by surprise. you grip his throat tight as leverage as you ride the man for dear life, pudgy thighs slapping against his strong ones, clit grinding  against his pelvis and fingers. “fuck me,” eijirou begs, face twisted in rapture and guilt, cheeks as red as his hair. “fuck me harder, take what you want from me. j-just give it to me.”

it must be the lack of oxygen to his brain that obscures his view of you — the cold hearted killer on campus. because eijirou only sees his best friend, the girl he’s wanted his entire life, falling apart on his creamy cock as it bullies it’s way into your womb. he doesn’t care what you do to him as long as he keeps feeling as high as cloud nine.

the way you fuck yourself down on him right now, it’s like an out of body experience. you’re hot all over, out of control, objects and and Knick knacks around kirishima’s room levitating with  the sheer amount of power and euphoria pulsating through your sweaty bodies as they move together in a shamefully slurry dance.

his head rolls to the side when you speed up, slamming your clenching cunt down on him with an erratic rhythm — a crude mix of your arousals flying about the place and wafting with the scent of metallic blood in the sex trained air. “you’re so needy, eijirou. bakugou hasn’t been taking care of you.” you tease through baited breath, throwing your hips down on him so that his milky precum spreads along your ribbed and sensitive walls. 

you sink your teeth into his perfectly poised neck once more, leaving your mark and draining him of that life energy again. kirishima wails at your comment, chest heaving and eyes watering, his lungs threatening to explode with blistering lust. the more you bite at him, take his blood and his life, the more powerful eijirou feels. because you seem to have forgotten one key element to your newly found powers. 

where your other victims were torn to shreds, the bites you leave on kirishima leave him with pieces of your demon abilities too. 

“you can’t even respond, s’kinda pathetic, don’t you think eiji?” your words are harsher, meaner, and the red head can’t tell if it makes him want to fuck you or hate you more. “that you’re willing to let me sue you like this. take your life just like every pretty girl before you…maybe when i’m done with you, i’ll pick on your little boyfriend next—“ 

you truly are the fucking devil. 

though everything you say is slurred and in the heat of the moment — you don’t have a chance to finish. every syllable ends in a salacious squeal when kirishima uses his newfound strength to wildly jackhammer into you. so fast and fucking hard that his weighty breeder’s balls smack against the jiggly flesh of your ass. his beefy arms snake their way around your shoulders, anchoring you to his girth while the bed creaks beneath the weight.

“will you fucking quit it?” in split second and surprising turn of events, eijirou has you flipped onto your stomach — sweaty chest to your back and cock so deep his pelvis barely peels away from your ass as it bounces for him. “you promised not to try and hurt me. but if you want it to hurt, then I’ll make it so.” 

cockwarming him hardly prepared you for just how big and blessed your best friend is. chubby, fat and drooly as his cock glides through the sugar glazed lining of your gushy walls. every time your creamy hole clamps down on him, he threatens to crumble. like a mountain with an avalanche, his girth doused in your sweet essence and his breath shaky against your ear. kirishima grips at your demon’s tail where it sprouts just above your ass, stroking it lewdly just to hear you yowl for him. 

the sheets below become victim to your pointed teeth, tearing through the soft linen in an attempt to calm your pornographic screams. “c’mon big guy,” you growl into the sheets, muffled, needy and amused, while you run your tongue over blood soaked teeth. “i thought you were going to make it hurt—“ 

“don’t test my patience, sweetheart,” your best friend snarls back as if you’re two animals fighting over land or territory — using his brute force, eijirou  grips you by the back of your neck in a similar fashion to the way you did him, and yanks you onto your knees so that you’re both kneeling in the bed while eijirou fucks your wet little cunt raw. “if ‘m gonna fuck you, it’s going to be by my rules. so do me a fuckin’ favour and keep your pretty mouth shut, alright?”

the bed squeals louder than you do with this new position, eijirou angling his hips up to meet your g-spot perfectly — letting your eager pussy swallow him down. you lose control quicker than your brain can even realise, overpowered by the way the  redhead brutally pounds into you, milky and heavy precum pearling along your ribbed walls like dew droplets in a black widow’s spiderweb. your sex welcome him home as if he was never meant to leave, clench on his bright red tip as you froth at his base and drop down his balls. 

equally, your mouth foams with copious amounts of spit, your head hanging low while eijirou ruts  you into a state of delirium. he licks the trace of drool seeping out of loud mouth and follows it up to your lips — generously feeding you his hungry moans and strings of spit. keeping you sedated, all for him while your tongues roll over one another in a fierce battle, neither of you knowing who will come out on top. 

“you’re disgusting,” kirishima barks against your nape, giving it a near murderous squeeze — he fumbles around in the sheets and somehow locates the knife from before, pressing its cool blade against your skin with his free hand. you can just about hear him over the pap, pap, pap of his Rick plunging in and out of your slick walls. “don’t you feel guilty? huh? for…fuck, killing anyone?” the metal against your skin makes you moan, makes kirishima light headed and the whole ordeal so much hotter. 

but you somehow manage to smirk in response, throwing it back into the red head aggressively— drowning in the pleasure. “don’t you feel guilty for fucking their killer?”

you grip the knife, pulling it closer to your vitality veins, light trails of blood from the wound smearing along kirishima’s skin meeting your skin. “why shouldn’t i kill you?” 

“y-you don’t have a reason not to!” you battle through the thick drool on your tongue, hyperfocus in the precum and slick slinging between your sore thighs. you’re wrecked and ruined, losing your demon strength to your goodie two shoes best friend. “i’m a god, death doesn’t s-scare me!” with the way his dick churns you up, eijirou stretches you beyond your limits and preps you to take his impending heavy load. “f-fuck! right there, k-kiri!”

it’s so good that your demon powers activate on their own, your insides that burn bright with ecstasy grow so hot that they heat the knife pressed against you — branding eijirou’s hand with your claim until he drops the hot metal. he falters, the rhythm of his thrusts going sloppy while a creamy sound echoes between your sexes. you’ve changed and you’re right. 

if eijirou kirishima really cared about your victims he would have turned you in and ended this all at the first chance. instead he dips into your demonic charm, afraid of what lies on the other end of this sinful ordeal. does he let you go? does he turn you in? does he keep his best friend here in his arms no matter what crimes you may commit?

“oh…oh eiji!” you whine, small and cute. “‘m gonna cum! please cum for me…cum with me.”

gone is his precious best friend, replaced with a slutty demon trying to selfishly such down his cock. lost in the moment of the ecstasy, you reach back and rake your talons across his skin in one last attempt to leave your mark and it’s only then that eijirou has had enough. using all of his strength, he roughly pushes you down to the sheets once more — forcing the sheets into your mouth to keep you quiet. 

“i can’t stand you.” he reiterates, huffing against your shoulder while locks of his hair stick to your hot, sweaty bodies. “you’re so fucking greedy. so evil…”eijirou shifts to press his hand into the pillow next to your head, smiling sadistically at your muffled screams as he puts the last of his energy into making you cum just as you want. because you always get what you want out of him. “y-you don’t even deserve this.” 

“b-but you’ll give it to me,” you pant around your mock gag, swallowing down thickly. “i’ll keep killing if i have to… you’ll still want me…” 

even if it’s true, eijirou always wanting you, he can’t shake the feeling that you’re no longer the girl he used to know. used to love. his warm and kind persona you once knew is replaced with a similar demonic beast full of lust. “yeah i will and you’ll fuckin’ take it.” he threatens, continually bucking into you and nudging your g-spot in a swaying dance of sacrilege. “s-shit, you’re gettin’ tight. are you really that close, so soon?”

all you can do is nod — grabbing and biting at anything to keep yourself calm. the world around you shakes furiously and white blinds your gaze as you cum, juices splashing back onto kirishima’s meaty girth. “let me give it to you, hm? cream this pussy. make you mine like you want…” comes the red head’s last simper before the dam breaks and your demon cunt drains him dry, milking him for every last drop of his potent white seed.

the two of you are reduced to shallow breaths and heavy eyelids — exhausted from the loss of blood and sharing of demon powers. 

but before you can turn around and sing kirishima your praises — the air is sucked from your lungs, a searing pain shooting through your back right through to the centre of your chest. thick, hot blood fills your lungs and the cavity in which they rest, it gathers at the corners of your cherry bitten lips and seeps through the knife wound kirishima has inflicted on you. 

he’s quite literally stabbed you in the back. 

he had no other choice, he couldn’t let you go on hurting people and tarnishing the image of his once best friend. you were different now, you had no place in the world anymore. it was your turn at death’s door, eijirou had decided. 

“i… i’m sorry,” he says carefully, pulling out and away from you as you lay dying beneath him. “i… i couldn’t—“ 

with the last of your energy you offer eijirou kirishima a weak and bloody smile. “s’okay…” your breathing slows in understanding, and he lets go of the knife in your back. “so by any chance… have a tampon?” 

of course you would find it in you to make a joke when faced with death. you weren’t afraid of anything. 

and now, neither was kirishima. 

with his newfound demon powers he wouldn’t let your death nor that of others go in vein. he would find the pro heroes who did his to you, made him do this to you, and make them pay. 

a life for a life. a death for the same price.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[dragongirlpoet]

Dark Signs

Pt II I Pt III

Alucard x you

Summary: A flirty, playful night with Adrian takes a dark turn.

TW: Dark fantasy, horror, blood, smut (explicit) 🔞 I Words: 1.6k

This is my first fic & attempt at smut. I hope you enjoy it!

“…And there, in the dead of night, under a moon so maroon, the White Wolf prowled — ravenous. Sturdy were its footsteps, calculated were its gait. Ahead, still as a rosebud in a windless twilight, its prey lay splayed out — helpless. 

Something about its small intakes of breath, its unsuspecting demeanour, made it all the more enticing for the imposing predator. Ever so slowly, the White Wolf, eyes like the golden gleam of a rising dawn, emerged from the thicket, pressing forward, inching closer, closer, closer…”

Body hovering over mine, Alucard’s words were a rasp above my cheek. The antiquated tome he had been reading from now a forgotten humdrum between our bodies. As velvet lips collided into me, I melded into his being. He was a hypnotic wave crashing into shore, and I was but delicate driftwood being dragged underwater.

His kiss was insistent, impatient. I had no escape, no cavity of air to quell the lack of oxygen in my lungs. Still, I kept going, because he was the only breath I needed. My fingers clawed ruthlessly at his back — muscle and bone Herculean from years of battling night creatures and evil forces. Skin so utterly cold, yet I wanted — needed — more.  

His body was a frigid storm to my fervent summer. “You are glorious as the solstice sun, darling. With you I am forever warm, within you I live eternally,” the confession falling easy from his lips the day he had taught me how to hunt.

Faces lost in each other, bodies entwined and limbs tugging like our lives depended on it, Alucard let his hand roam under my nightdress, finally finding solace in the swell of my chest. I shifted slightly at the unusual chill. Was he ever this cold?

Over the months I had become accustomed to his half human intricacies. His unnerving stillness, his undeniable thirst for blood try as he might to hide it, his erratic need to stay up nights in a row roaming the castle “just to be sure…” 

I was no fool. Those witching hours almost always had him back in his childhood room — he would stare, as if entranced, at the spot he had staked his father. And I would see the grief in his eyes — the absolute contrition at his travesty, one he wished he could take back, but couldn’t. 

Alucard, the son of the great Dracula and benevolent Lisa Tepes, the almighty dhampir. A being so beautiful he could bring a kingdom to its knees, yet one so cruelly tormented by his past.

“Baby, eyes on me.” My eyes fluttered open, realising I was lost in the wrong moment. He crashed his lips into mine once again. 

As if in a bid to stop my obsessive thinking, he started to grab at my breast, kneading furiously, thumb toying with my nipple. I leaned in closer, but alas my human endurance had reached its limits and I pulled away for air. 

“I want to know what happened to the prey. I am most opposed to unfinished stories,” I tried to play coy in between ragged breaths. Nose to mine, he wore a smirk on his handsome face. He had a playful glint to his stare — contemplative, as if taunting me to continue with my officious fib. 

Alucard picked the tome up from my stomach, grazing his fingers ever so slightly over my abdomen. He trailed the book slowly down my navel, its cracked spine against my bare skin sent fireworks to my core. I watched with bated breath as the print finally landed where he wanted it — in between my legs. He dragged its spine down, then up again, repeating the motion, teasing, eyes never leaving mine. 

Satisfied with how wet my undergarment had become, he hushed, “I think it better if I showed you instead. Don’t you agree, princess?” 

“Ye..yesss,” 

“Do you like that?”

“Yesss…”

“Open your legs wider.”

I obeyed. Submitting to him was easy. Too easy.

“Let’s see just how wet you are for me, hmm?” 

Without warning, Alucard ripped my soaking cloth off my hips and plunged two fingers inside. I cried out at the shock and how good it felt, and as if by instinct grabbed his hands and guided them deeper into me. Alucard let out a stifled moan at my brazenness, his erection growing fast under his black britches.

He watched with eyes half-lidded, completely spellbound as I bounced into his hand, my breasts rising and falling with every thrust. Body and mind so turned on he reached urgently into his pants and started stroking his length. 

For a long moment we just sat there, eyes locked on each other, legs spread wide, our sex stimulated. And what a profane sight it must have been for our bed chamber was filled with nothing but wanton “fucks” and the squelching of his fingers coated in my lust. 

I fucked myself into his fingers harder, and reached desperately for his cock. With more force than necessary, he caught both my wrists with his free hand and pinned them to my stomach. “That’s for later,” he chided. 

Alucard was usually wary of his inhuman strength around me. But tonight, tonight he was carnal, rough, like an animal being let out of its cage. His knuckles went white with how much pressure he had put on my wrists, and I bit my lip knowing it was going to bruise. 

As if to edge me further, Alucard pulled his fingers out and gazed at them ever so intently, admiring the slather of fluid glistening like diamonds on his digits. If his etherealness hadn’t killed me, then perhaps what he did next would have driven me close to death. With deliberate calm, he brought his fingers into his mouth, swiping his tongue over my juices, savouring every single trickle.

My dhampir, hair like a divine cascade of golden waterfalls, on his knees, drinking my lust as if it were vital sustenance, yet all that he was was in direct contrast to his reverence — powerful, dominant and deadly. I marvelled at his masculine elegance — the way his pectorals tensed as he licked his fingers dry, how his faded sanguine scar stood distinct against his alabaster skin, the definition of muscles that ran down his pelvis…

I swallowed. 

“God, you taste so good. Only for me, yes?” 

“Yesss…” Being thoroughly educated and well-read, I was fairly ashamed it was all the vocabulary I could muster.

And it would seem that more crude words were soon to follow, as Alucard then dove in between my thighs and sent his tongue plunging — deep, depraved — into my clenching walls.  

“Fuuuck, Adrian!” 

Hearing his name sent him over the edge, and he started sucking hard — wet pillow lips against wet pillow flesh. I was heaven and hell collided, rising from it like the luminescent birth of a star. I ground my core into his face, hands grasping his woven-gold hair, willing him to dive further into me. 

Alucard groaned in pleasure against my clit. Powerful, cold hands gripped my thighs apart, and my sweet lover lay soft kisses to the insides, thumbs expertly caressing my sensitive folds. In all his vampire glory, he bared his fangs ever so slightly, sharp teeth just barely peeking through, grazing them over my clit and thighs, nibbling, never breaking skin. I was undone. 

“Adrian…Adrian please…”

“Please what?”

I was all heavy pants and delirious to give a coherent reply.

Head still positioned at the apex of my thighs, his eyes raked over his masterpiece — delicate features coated in sweat, nipples hard from stimulation and the soppy, pulsating cunt laid out like a feast inches from his mouth. What a mess he had made of me, and a mess he was most certainly proud of. 

From in between my legs, Adrian was a fallen angel from a paradise unknown. His eyes like gold afire were so wholly glazed over they looked like one with the smouldering flames nestled atop our chamber candles. 

Patience waning, he asked again. “Please…” humming the words into my clit…“what?” A loud moan escaped my lips. I arched my back in sheer pleasure, feeling the build up in my core.

He dragged his fangs against my thighs, eyes fixated on mine, drinking in my desire. 

“I want…I want…” my chest heaving so violently from how close I was to release.

“What do you want?” Adrian moved to whisper against my ear. This was too much. 

“I want…I want you to turn me.”

Alucard went very still, his pupils blown wide. Everything went very still. The flames lost its dance, the curtains absent of sway.

“What did you say?” His voice was still water with undercurrents of danger. 

His statuesque figure towered over me, pinning me under. 

“I said, I want you to turn me.” 

Alucard held my stare, and as I took them in, an unearthly shadow seemed to lurk beneath those incandescent irises. 

If my question threw him off guard, his unsettling stillness made it clear he wasn’t most fond of surprises. It took a long moment before he finally moved, his supernatural speed having him by the window in seconds. 

Frustration soon shrouded my orgasmic high. I forced my spent body off the reprieve of our mattress. He was going to answer me whether he liked it or not.

“Adrian! You cannot disregard my question any longer! I’ve wanted this from the first time you made love to me, don’t pretend it was never asked of you,” exasperation evident in my tone.

“Peril or not, I am not afraid. I…”

A sudden squall of wind extinguished the flickering flames. Our bed chamber was plunged into chasmic darkness, summoning a bitter chill that seeped through the wooden floors. There, still as a predator hunting prey, hovered the glowing golden orbs of Alucard's eyes, the blacks of his pupils far wider than I’d ever seen. 

“A…Adrian?” 

Pt II I Pt III

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Academia - 6.6

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: domestic, academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, smut, fingering, edging, oral, multiple orgasms, fluff

Damian couldn’t fall asleep. Okay, he could, he was tired as hell and god knew he was sore something fierce after having to carry his brother on his back for two hundred push ups, but his braid fought against his body's instinct to fall asleep.

How could he possibly look away from this view?

You, safe, snuggled in his arms, asleep. It was fascinating to think how different the two of you had been a mere week ago. His fingers traced the curve of your neck as contrasting scenes of your scare toxin-induced torture played in his mind. He felt anger rise like bile in his throat, only to dissipate when you inhaled and exhaled calmly beside him.

Damian checked the watch on his wrist. Rolex, he may as well add. It read 7:30 in the morning. The two of you had had a long two days ahead of you. At least until your parents returned from the trip, they randomly won. Luck is a funny thing.

He lowered his head to where his fingers just were on your collarbone and pressed a gentle kiss there, followed by another, and another, each one lower than the next. Your skin felt soft and warm against his lips, eliciting a grin when he reached the spot above your breasts, where your night gown dipped. He felt your heart beat steady in your chest, and for some reason, the sound excited him. The nightgown was loose enough that he could brush it aside and expose your nipple, then the same with the other. He lowered his head and licked one, the stubble on his chin slightly scratching at your delicate skin, as his fingers came up to roll your other nipple between them.

You let out a soft sigh, and he looked up to see you still asleep. Arms draped above your head on your pillow like a victorian painting. Your parted lips releasing a series of quick breathes as your chest began to rise and fall quickly with his ministration. Damian lowered himself further down the bed until he reached the hem of your nightgown, lifting it up to allow himself access between your legs. To no surprise, you were ready, your folds shiny, sticking together held by your wetness. He suppressed the groan the view elicited in him, not wanting to wake you up too early. Carefully lifting your thighs and placing them over his shoulders, he lowered his mouth to your core, tongue taking a long swipe across your slit.

Your body shuddered at the sensation, and your back arched, a vision he promised to etched onto memory. You tasted divine. There was no other way to describe it. And he felt himself salivate even as he ate you out. Hungry for so much more.

He licked and sucked your clit with fervor, relishing in the sounds you were making. Wondering what you were envisioning in your sleep as you gasped and wimpered.

"Damian." Your soft voice was still laden with sleep as he looked up at you, blinking away the drowsiness. "What... what are y- uhmm!" You moaned as his tongue sped up its curcular movements around your clit.

"'Morning." He rasped against you. The vibrations from his voice - especially in the morning - traveled down your core, causing you to grasp at the sheets.

He wondered how many times in a row he could make you come this way...

The answer was six. It would have been more, but you begged and pleaded him to stop, claiming you "can't anymore, Dami, please, please..."

"Get up, prefect girl." He pulled you by your arms to hold you in his lap, still shaking from your seventh orgasm. "We have a lot we have to do today."

"You're evil." You murmured, snuggling up against him. "You can't just do this to people."

"Wake them up with an orgasm?" He asked, kissing your forehead. "I know. I'm a moster." He said sarcastic.

You huffed a giggle. "What do we have to do today?"

"We're going to the lab,"

You tensed. "No,"

"Yes. I'll be with you the entire time. Not even when you're gonna go to Kace and beg him to take you back on the water project."

You began to shiver in his arms but for a different reason now. Shaking your head, you turned to him.

It almost broke Damian’s heart, the look you gave him. Pleading eyes on the verge of tears as your bottom lip tremmored. He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, and declared, "You are not letting the bad guys win."

Something about his choice of words made you shift then, your gaze left his to search the room as you pondered his words, before finally landing on your hand clutched in his. "I would like to finish that project," you admitted.

"You will." He kissed your cheek.

You turned to face him. "You'll be with me?"

He gave you a challenging grin. "Try and stop me."

[wifeyoozi]

Members reactions to you asking if u can suck on their tiddies 😏

!! MDNI !!

ot13 seventeen: asking to suck their tits

seungcheol : definately mishears you, shrugs and mumbled an okay before pulling your shirt up and sucking your tits instead.

jeonghan : raises an eyebrow with that evil smirk of his. So cocky about it. Teases you infinitely before allowing you.

Joshua : red and confused asf "my w-what?"

Junhui : girl if you aren't always sucking his tits what even are you doing with him anyway- doesn't expects you to do anything else.

hoshi : on the outside, so nonchalant about it. "sure go ahead." Will lift his shirt himself to give you the access. Tho internally he's literally screaming

Wonwoo : sceptical about it at first but secretly ends up loving it. Wants it to happen more often but too shy and proud to ask for himself.

Woozi : girl he ain't building his boobs like that for you to not do anything with them. Go and get em milkers and suck em till you're full.

Minghao : flustered and literally cannot make out if you said it as a joke or were you serious. Will say sure in a half joking manner and will end up a moaning mess by the end of it as you play with em nips.

Mingyu : like woozi, he ain't growing them pecs to play around. They are all yours. Don't bother even asking just jump in them and he won't even say anything just let you devour them tits

Seokmin : red asf. Didn't know this was an option. But he's glad it is. Nervously agrees and literally loves the experience so much

Seungkwan : sus about it. Half expecting a prankcam to jump out as soon as he let's his perverted side out and agrees. Side eyes you. Will let you pull up his shirt and get your mouth over his little tits anyway you want.

Vernon : I think he has seen enough porn to know well about it and has wanted it for a while but never asked you. So when you asked him for it, he was ready for it with his whole life.

Chan : flustered at you calling them "tiddies" lol. But pretends to be so cool about it and of course let's you have your way with him. He may or may not cum untouched with a good enough nipple stimulation just saying.

[not-neverland06]

How About a Nuke?

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, the ghoul x fem!reader A/N: I always appreciate your thoughts and comments on these chapters. I don’t reply to every comment, mainly because I’m cackling like an evil witch over your suffering Summary: Time split in two. Both sides of the same coin and neither of you can get your shit together.

“It’s been a pleasure working with you,” you held your hand out and shook Tom’s, though your experience with him was anything but wonderful. If you didn’t need the exposure you’d never do another movie for him again. Cooper came up behind you and wrapped an arm around your waist. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just going to steal her for a minute.”

Tom waved his hand and went to track down another drink. You sank into Cooper’s arms, deflating with relief. “Thank you,” you whispered. 

He chuckled and the sound had shivers going down your spine. “No problem at all, sweetheart.” He swept you out of the room and into one of the hallways of whoever’s house you were at. You’d stopped paying attention after about the fifth party you’d been dragged to. Working with Cooper had been a dream come true, but you hadn’t realized just how much socializing you’d have to do. 

He let go of you and you immediately missed the feeling of his arm around you. He provided you with a sense of protection you’d been severely lacking since you started acting. He was a shield against the greed of Hollywood. 

You let yourself lean against the wall and he watched you with a keen eye, smiling slightly at how tired you looked. “Doing alright?”

You nodded before looking up and giving him a small smile. “Just need a little break, that’s all.”

He rested against the wall opposite to you, tugging out a cigarette and offering you one. You shook your head and tried rolling out your shoulders to get rid of some of the lingering tension. He had a knowing look on his face when he spoke. 

“It was like that for me too when I first started out. No one really prepares you for how much ass you have to kiss in this industry.”

You let out a short laugh and rolled your eyes, “My lips are chapped at this point. I’ve never had to stroke so many men’s egos in one night.” 

“I hope you don’t feel like you have to do the same with me.”

You glanced up at Cooper and shook your head, “No, you’re not like that.”

Fuck him, you thought. You didn’t have to do what he said. You got up, prepared to duck your way through the fighting again, when you heard the unmistakable high pitched ringing of a bullet flying by and then you were launching forward. 

“Fuck!” Your hand flew to your arm, trying to stop the blood from oozing out of the graze on your arm. He hadn’t left a hole but a good chunk of your bicep was splattered on the ground.  

“Now, what did I tell you sweetheart?” You turned around to stare shocked at Cooper. He pointed to the ground with his gun. “Go ahead and sit your ass back down.” The warmth of the blood seeped out from between your fingers and your other hand clenched in rage. 

“Why don’t you just go fuck yourself, Cooper?” He might not have had eyebrows anymore but you could still make out the way his muscles shifted in anger. Despite it all, you could still read him like a book. 

You weren’t going to let him think he could just continue to treat you however the hell he wanted. “What did you just say to me?” His voice was low, a dangerous tone that days before you might not have messed with. But you didn’t care. He’d shot you twice at this point, you couldn’t bring yourself to give a shit about catering to his feelings right now. 

Your hand reached towards the gun tucked in your pants. His eyes tracked the movement but he made no move to stop you. Slowly, you wrapped your fingers around the handle and you pointed the barrel right at him. He chuckled but there was no humor in the sound. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

“If you’re gonna shoot me, go ahead and do it. But our partnership ends here.” You hoped he couldn’t see the way your hand trembled or how the gun shook. You weren’t sure, when the moment came, if you could actually kill him. Despite it all, you still saw the man you used to love in that face. 

And despite what he’d told you about that man, you couldn’t let yourself believe him. You couldn’t afford to lose the last good memory you had. You’re caught off guard when he clicks the hammer again and tucks the gun back in his holster. 

Your eyes are wide with surprise but he just raises his hands in surrender. “Go ahead and leave, I’m never one to linger where I’m unwanted.” Well, that’s a fucking lie. Still, you decide to take him at his word and slowly you tuck the gun away again. 

“Goodbye, Cooper.”

He smirks, “Goodbye, darling.”

You should have known better. You’ve barely turned around before a rope is looped around your waist and dragging you to the ground and back towards him. 

“Thanks for having me over, Barb. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” She shook her head and placed your cup of coffee on the table. 

“What kind of hostess would I be if I asked that of you?” She gave you a kind smile and left to dart back into the kitchen. You fiddled with the table mat in front of you, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Cooper came back in from the yard and waved you forward. 

“Come on, she’ll be a while longer, it’s nicer out here.” You left your cup on the table and followed him outside. He led you to the pool, motioning for you to take a seat on one of the chairs. You appreciated how hospitable he and his wife were but you were feeling incredibly out of place in his home. 

Cooper laughed and gave you a funny look. “You don’t look very comfortable over there.”

You shrugged and gave him a sheepish smile. “Am I that obvious?”

He shook his head, “Not to anyone else, maybe.”

“But you know me a bit better than anyone else,” you finished the thought for him. He was right. He knew you better than anyone in Hollywood did. And you enjoyed it and loved how close you had gotten over the course of filming the movie. But you also hated it a little bit.

Cooper Howard had always been an on-screen crush for you and now face-to-face with him, the infatuation has gotten even worse. It made you feel awful every time Barb invited you over to their house. You were a guest in her home and halfway to being in love with her husband.

But who could blame you? He was kind and sophisticated, and he wasn’t one of those Hollywood assholes who looked down on anybody who was deemed as below him. 

And maybe you were mistaking his generosity for something else, but you swear he had a certain look in his eyes every time he stared at you. 

You almost hoped that he didn’t. You wanted this to be different from the other men you worked with. They always claimed they were in love with you. It didn’t take long for them to realize that it was only lust and not love. 

You wanted him to be different. 

Maybe you’re a fool for thinking that there was still Prince Charming’s around. But you would hold onto that hope for as long as you could.

“I fucking hate you. You know that?”

“Why don’t you shut your mouth, huh, sweetheart?” You hissed in pain as Cooper squeezed the rag around your arm even tighter. He grinned at the noise and tied the makeshift bandage off. 

“You should have just left me there.” He stood up and yanked your hands towards him. He used some of the rope to tie you up, leading you around on a leash like you were a damn dog. 

“Couldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, why the hell not?” He finally looked at you, an angry set to his eyes. But he didn’t respond, he just yanked on the rope and dragged you forward. You complied, only because of the way your shoulder pulsed with pain.

You wished he had left you in Filly instead of dragging you along behind him. He had already dealt with Ma June and gotten whatever the hell it is that he puffs on. You had no idea why he even needed you anymore. 

You weren’t of any use to him and it’s not like there’s some big bounty on your head. Why keep you around? Why not give you both what you want and just let you go?

Maybe it was cruelty. Maybe the only thing he got out of it, was knowing that he was torturing you. That seemed like enough for a man like him. 

You stared at the back of his head and felt hate burning in your gut. He was right. Cooper was gone, you couldn’t even see him anymore. You didn’t want to see him anymore. 

“We’ll get along just fine if you keep that attitude of yours in check.” If you could still pull out your gun, you’d take your chance. You’d shoot him dead if you could. Instead all you could do was longingly stare at it from where it was tucked in your bag. 

He returned from where he’d been keeping watch, confident no one was going to bother them tonight. She sat with her back to him, the rope tied around the post of the old warehouse they were camped out in. She’d refused to talk to him since they’d made camp for the night and it was slowly driving him insane. 

He’d made a decision when he went back for her. She belonged to him now, she wasn’t leaving anytime soon. He didn’t understand why she had to make all of this so hard.

He knelt down in front of her and she averted her eyes to a corner of the room behind him. He reached for the bandage on her arm and she jerked back, she looked at him at least, even if it was to glare. He’d take progress where he could get it. 

“You want to let it fester and rot then be my guest.” She stared at him a moment longer before sighing and offering him her arm. He unwrapped the bandage and threw it to the ground. It was sopping wet with her blood and she winced at the noise it made when it landed, some blood sprayed off and hit her face. He’d meant to just graze her, done a bit more damage than expected. 

There was a large divot where muscle should be, he could nearly see bone poking through on the deepest bit. It was a wonder she hadn’t been complaining the whole time they were walking. He’s not sure how she’s bearing the pain so well. 

He needs to cauterize it before she loses more blood. He takes a glance at her face, the way her jaw is set, the cold look in her eyes everytime he so much as breathes. There’s no way this will go over very well, but there’s no point in investing any time in her if she just dies of rot tomorrow. 

He starts a fire in the area with the least visibility, he’s trying not to tempt any stragglers near them. It’s not like he can rely on her to watch over him in the night, he’s sure if he handed her a knife she’d slit his throat right now. 

He pulls his machete out and lets the dull edge heat up before bringing it back over to her. Her eyes widen but she still doesn’t say anything. And when he presses the edge into her wound and her skin sizzles and roasts she still doesn’t utter a word. 

But she bites down on something in her mouth so hard blood leaks out of the corner of her lips. She’s being real tempting right now, all bloodied and cooked, smelling like a nice meal. Maybe he should chop her up into little pieces, she’ll keep him fed for a while, that’s for sure. 

She starts panting, breathing heavy through her nose and he knows he’s kept this on here longer than necessary. Still, he can’t help himself. He presses the blade a little deeper, lets it hit some uninjured skin just to see if she says anything. She only clenches her eyes shut and turns away from him. 

Disappointed by the lack of response he backs off. “You’re welcome,” he grouses. 

“Fuck. Off.” She spits the words out at him, droplets of blood flying off her lips as she does. 

The way her eyes flare with anger shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. But she has always been particularly pretty when she’s pissed off at him. He licks the blood off his lips and grins. “So she can talk.”

Her eyes well up with tears and he sits back, enjoying the sight of her breaking down. She’s caused enough trouble for him the past few days, she’s just getting a taste of her own medicine. 

Cooper swoops in, taking her hand and leading her around the dance floor. She grins up at him, eyes shining under the lights of the ballroom, once again he’s struck by just how gorgeous she is. “I should warn you,” she leans in like she’s sharing a horrible secret and whispers, “I’m a terrible dancer.”

He takes her in, the pretty dress she’s wearing and how well it suits her and shakes his head. “Just let me lead.”

Her laugh makes his heart race and all he wants to do is run away with her. Get her out of here and just have her all for his own, if only for a few hours. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, mister.” The music picks up and he takes her through the steps he had to practice a dozen different times for a multitude of occasions, one including his wedding. 

“Do you know how pretty you look tonight?”

She gives him a coy smile and shrugs. “I’ve been told by a few men, but I think I’d actually believe it if you said it.”

He leans down and kisses her. He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself. She’s as soft as he’d imagined, shy and confused, but she doesn’t stop him. He feels her lean in and he slowly parts from her. “You look beautiful.” She pulls away from him, eyes wide and lips parted from shock. He sees the shine on her lips, the slight way they’ve swelled up and he wants to lean in again but he’s interrupted. 

“Cut!” Sam walks over to them, a big grin on his face and claps Cooper on the shoulder. “I love the improv, Coop, we’re gonna do this again. Keep the kiss.” Cooper nods and waits for him to walk off before he turns back to her. 

He offers her an apologetic smile. “I hope that didn’t bother you, darling. It felt right for the scene.” Not a complete lie, it did work better than whatever the writers had chosen for the next few minutes of dialogue. But truly, he was just fulfilling his own selfish desires. 

She seems to blink herself out of some sort of daze. She shakes her head and steps away from him, he lets his hands fall down to his sides, already missing the feeling of her. “No, not at all. Good call, Coop.” His name on her lips sounds like music to his ears, especially that breathy way she says it when she’s nervous. 

He sighs and rubs a hand down his face. What the fuck is he doing? He shouldn’t have kissed her. He definitely shouldn’t have pushed to get her this role, either, knowing she was going to be his love interest. He knows she’s been trying to step back from these types of things. But he also knows that she’d take any role he offered her. 

He shouldn’t be taking advantage of that, but he can’t help himself. He finds that he wants to be near her, always. He wants to listen to her ramble and have her there to read scripts with, he just wants her around him constantly. It used to be purely platonic. The respectful relationship between a mentor and mentee. But she’d figured out how to navigate this world on her own. 

Soon, he worried she wouldn’t need him anymore. Or want him around.  He takes every opportunity he can to have her on set and it’s only recently that he’s noticed the physical attraction. He takes his hand off his face and glances to the side. 

Barb is there, but she hadn’t been watching. She’s busy talking to one of the PA’s. He takes in a deep breath and gets back on his mark. If he messes up a few times, just so he can kiss her again, who could blame him?

“Cat got your tongue?”

You have a dozen different remarks, but you’re too drained to go through this routine again. You can tell he’s getting angrier the longer you ignore him. Good! He’s shot you twice, you didn’t exactly owe him the satisfaction of your conversation. 

Your arm is throbbing, a dull pain that you can feel deep in your bones. You keep shifting, trying to ease some of the pressure off of it, but with the bindings around your wrist it’s nearly impossible. You want to cry, scream, fight. You want to do anything, but he’s bound you and you feel like a beaten down dog. 

Your tails’ been cropped and you’re just going through endless rounds of fighting until you’re useless enough to be put down. You don’t see a way out of this. And even if there was, even if you did escape, you’d still have the rest of the Wastelands to get through. 

He stands up and moves next to you. He throws himself down with a thud and digs around in your bag. “No rations left, huh?” You close your eyes and let your head thunk back against the pole you’ve been leashed to. He grabs his own bag and pulls out his foul smelling jerky. 

He dangles it under your nose, slapping your cheeks with it a few times until you open up your eyes. He grins, yellowed teeth making you nauseous, “There are those pretty eyes. Come on, open up sweetheart, ass jerky ain’t gonna eat itself.”

Your nose scrunches up in disgust and you turn your head away. “Hey!” He snaps and you jump. “I’m being generous here, now, open your damn mouth.”

“Why’d you shoot me?” You spit it out, rushed and near incoherent. It’s a desperate attempt to distract him so you don’t have to eat what is confirmed human meat. That could have been you today, had you not woken up before that creepy old couple got to you. 

He takes a moment, contemplating his answer. “Thought you were the raider.”

“Why?”

He rolled his eyes and the jerky, thankfully, dropped back into his lap. “I heard someone in pain. You don’t have a great track record, sweetheart, I figured someone had gotten you again.”

Indignant anger bubbled up in your gut and you moved as far away from him as you possibly could. Though, it was only a few inches. “You didn’t think I could defend myself. It wasn’t even a consideration?” 

You knew how to shoot a gun, and you knew how to fight back. But shouldn’t there be a bit of grace considering a few days ago the entire world wasn’t fucking insane? You think you’ve handled yourself exceptionally well considering everything that’s been thrown at you. 

There’s no hesitation in his answer, “No.”

“Well,” you spit the words out like you want to wound him with them, “you were wrong.”

To your surprise he smiles. It seems genuine enough, appreciative even, but you can’t trust him anymore. You never should have trusted him to begin with apparently. “That I was.” You wished you could smack the smug look off his face. He was acting like he had anything to do with your fighting or surviving that fight. Despite what happened with the raiders, you were capable of protecting yourself.

That woman was already bleeding out and on the ground before he had interrupted. “What the fuck do you want from me, Cooper?” His hand twitched towards his gun and he glared at you. You rolled your eyes and sighed, “Oh grow the fuck up, I said your name, shoot me or get over it. I’m not gonna play this game with you anymore. I’m not gonna let you walk all over me and I’m not going to continue to cater to your temper.”

He wasn’t angry, though, he was grinning. Making a noise that bordered on a laugh. “Someone found their fight again, it seems.”

Your jaw clenched and you kicked at him. He grunted at the impact and you felt a little bit of satisfaction flare up, “Answer the question.”

He shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t particularly like you, but I can’t seem to let you go either.”

“Well,” you scoffed, “you sure know how to make a girl swoon, don’t you.” Your wrists itched within the confines of their bindings and you pictured strangling him with the very rope he had you tied up with. 

“You wanted the truth.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?” 

Cooper wrapped his arms around Barb’s waist, he leaned in to kiss her but she dodged away from him. He let out a heavy sigh, already dreading this conversation, and backed up. “What are you talking about?”

She whirled around on him and glared, “Do not pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” He shook his head and walked over to the bar cart, pouring himself a glass of something that would hopefully calm him enough for another fight. They’d been fighting a lot lately. 

He knew what this one was going to be about. Her, but they’d been having issues long before this attraction started up. She just wanted something to use against him, to make him the bad guy. She just couldn’t ever handle hearing the truth about herself. 

But he wasn’t going to make it easy for her. He was sick of rolling over and just letting her have what she wanted for the sake of peace. “Give me something to work with here, Barb.”

She scoffed and shook her head muttering, “Unbelievable,” under her breath. “Shoving your tongue down her throat, that’s what I’m talking about!”

Cooper winced, “Lower your voice, Janey is-”

“Do not,” she held up a hand to silence him. “Do not bring our daughter into this. Answer the damn question.”

He let out a humorless laugh and held up his hands. “I don't know what you want. You’ve never had a problem with this before. It’s a part of my fucking job, Barb, what the hell do you want?”

She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just admit it, Coop, she’s different. We both know it, this isn’t some scripted kiss. You wanted it!” Of course he did. At least she actually liked him, appreciated him, made him feel something other than shame and frustration. She didn’t manipulate him at every opportunity like Barb did. 

“Lower your goddamn voice!” He snapped, heat rushing to his cheeks in anger. “I am married to you, you are my wife, not her. I love you, okay, Barb. I don’t know where this is coming from, or why you’re choosing now to bring this up. But I’ve had a long day and I don’t want us to go to bed angry.”

She shook her head again and paced the length of the living room. “Cooper, I can’t-”

The phone ringing interrupted her. She looked at it like she knew who was calling and waved her hand to dismiss him. “We will continue this,” he walked towards the phone and took it off the hook. “What?”

He regretted how short he sounded when he heard her on the other line. She sounded a little confused and like she was sorry for bugging him. “Coop? Sorry, is this a bad time?” He glanced over his shoulder at Barb but she wasn’t looking at him anymore. 

He let out a deep sigh and tried to reign in his temper, “No, sweetheart, what’s up?” 

“Oh, well a few of us figured we’d go out and get some drinks. I wanted to see if you wanted to join us, or if you could give me a ride?”

He let the phone droop to his cheek and glanced at Barb again. She was already making her way towards the bedroom. “Make your choice, Cooper,” she called over her shoulder. 

She piped up on the other end, “Coop?”

He glanced down at the phone again before he shook his head and brought it back up to his ear. “Yeah, I’ll be right over, honey. Let me just grab my jacket.”

“You remember that first movie we did together?” He leaned back against the wall, arm propped up on his knee and gazing out at the Wasteland. “Passed a poster for it in this old movie theater a week ago.” He glanced over at her and nudged her shoulder. “Must have been a sign, huh?”

Her voice was a hoarse croak that he nearly didn’t understand. “Did you ever love me?” The question came out of nowhere, catching him slightly off guard.

Anger flared through him. He turned to glare at her but she wouldn’t look at him. She had the audacity to ask something that fucking stupid and then she couldn’t even look at him?

“Hey,” she sighed and turned to face him. “‘Course I did. Why the hell would you say that?”

She snorted and shook her head. “Seriously?” He nodded and she sighed. “You told me you didn’t. All I was, was a hole to fill.”

He ran a hand down his face and shrugged. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you sweetheart.”

“How about the truth,” she gave him a sharp look and he laughed. She was real cute when she was trying to be threatening. 

“Alright. You want some advice? Everyone in the Wastelands lies. Can’t trust a thing anyone says.”

She nodded but he should know better than to think she would give up so easy. “So, I can’t believe you now then?” She must have thought she was real clever. He was getting a little sick of this back and forth. She needed to learn to just listen to him, she’d get a lot farther a lot faster that way. 

“Consider this the one exception.” 

“And here I thought you didn’t like to drink, sweetheart.” She let out a drunken giggle and slumped further against Cooper. He glanced at her and laughed. Her eyes were barely open and she kept pointing at something but refused to tell him what it was she was talking about. “Keys?”

She lifted her purse but it dropped to the ground before he could grab it from her. Cooper sighed and propped her against her door, he leaned down to grab the bag and dug around until he found the keys. He noticed the little key chain he got her dangling from them and smiled. 

A mini revolver, to commemorate their first movie together. It was cute that she had kept it, he hadn’t really expected her too. Then again, he’s kept every ridiculous gag gift she’s gotten him. “Alright, let’s get you to bed.” She threw an uncoordinated arm over his shoulder and let her feet drag while he tried to corral her into her apartment. 

“Work with me, honey, come on.” She finally lifted her feet enough to stumble into her bedroom. He closed the door and heard a loud thud. “Shit,” he ran into her room but she’d only tossed her shoes across the room. 

“I don’t drink,” she slurred, eyes red and cheeks puffy. 

He chuckled and nodded his head. He hoped to get her lucid enough just long enough to get her tucked into bed. He was tired and going to get drinks had been a mistake. He wasn’t in the mood to try and entertain a group of people with tales of his glamorous Hollywood experience. Honestly, he’d gone just to talk to her, but she’d been in more of a mood to party than he had expected. 

“Don’t trust anyone.” He grabbed the sleeves of her jacket, helping her out of it and trying not to laugh at how much she struggled with them. “Just you,” she hummed, giving him a smile even though her eyes were closed and she was a second away from passing out.

“That’s real sweet, why don’t you get in bed?” She nodded and threw herself down against the pillows. Cooper sighed and got up to get her trash can out of the bathroom, dropping it by the side of her bed in case she needed it. 

He glanced down at her, taking in the serene expression she held when she slept. It was so different to the usual way she kept herself guarded, she seemed so vulnerable in moments like these. He brushed the hair off her face and turned the light off. It made him feel good to know that she felt safe with him. 

He could never be with her the way that he wanted to, but at the very least he could protect her from the people who would just take what he wanted. 

“I don’t think I can do this on my own,” she whispered. She shifted again, tugging at the bindings once more. Annoyed at her constant fidgeting he reached over and loosened them slightly. His fingers lingered on the reddened marks on her wrist, he pressed lightly on them and she shivered. 

He let her go and sat back against the post. “I know.”

“I stupidly thought I would find something in Filly. I think I was trying to prove something to myself, but I can’t do this. I need help, but I’m not gonna let you treat me like some pet you didn’t want.” 

He sighed and she turned to look at him. When he really took her in, actually paid attention to her, he could see how tired she was. That sort of bone deep tired that you only get after a lot of bad days. He’s sure that’s what this was, it’s how it was for him when he first started out on his own. 

He didn’t have anyone to help him or guide him, he figured it out on his own. It made him smarter, stronger, turned him into somebody that no one was going to fuck with. She was a lot different than him, though. 

“Alright.”

“You’re going to help me,” she held out her hands and he understood the gesture for what it was. A test, to see if he was true to his word, if you could actually believe him. 

He grinned and yanked her closer, reveling in the way she winced at the ropes burning the open wounds. “I’ve had a taste of you now, sweetheart, I won’t be letting you go anytime soon.” She doesn’t flinch when he pulls out his knife, not even when he presses it against the tender skin of her wrist.

There’s trust in her eyes, a hesitant trust, but it was there. He slices through the knot of rope and wraps the rest of it up to put back in his bag. She lets out a sigh of relief and rubs at the irritated patches of skin. “I really did love you, you know?”

He’s sick of this. He’s sick of how sad she sounds, how tired. It’s barely been a week and she’s already starting to give up. He's already made the decision to keep her around, he’s not one to go back on his word. But she’s making it real hard to not just knock her out and shut her up. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, “so did I.”

She scoffed, “No. You didn’t, not like I did.”

His hand clenches at his side in frustration. What’s it gonna take to drill this into her head? He grabs her by the chin and yanks her forward, the leather of his glove smushing her lips together. “I loved you. You don’t get to doubt that and you don’t get to doubt me.”

He’s darting forward before she can shove him back. Her hands hang limply between them and she gasps in surprise when he presses their lips together. It’s not altogether pleasant, her lips cracked and bloodied and his have long since turned to leather. 

But that familiar passion he once held for her sparks up and he shoves forward. She whimpers and lets herself fall back, hands grabbing at his jacket and tugging him closer. He used to treat her gently, savor their time together like they’d never have another chance. It always felt like that, they were one moment away from losing each other. He supposes he’d been right, their time was short. 

Who they were now were two different people to who they’d been. He bites down on her lip hard enough to draw blood and pulls back. She’s staring up at him, shocked and flustered. He can’t tell if she wants to kiss him again or slap him. He doesn’t give her a chance to choose, he licks her blood off his lips and drops her to the ground.

She groans as her head slams against the floor, sand and dust billowing out from under her. “You should get some rest. We’ve got a long walk tomorrow.” He leaves her there in the dirt, lets her linger in the feeling of his rejection. He rubs at his lips and savors the taste of her blood on his tongue. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[cherie-doll]

:o Im curious, how do you think the cod men would react to their kids wanting to be like them or having interest in joining the military?

hmm

༊࿔ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

࿐ Price...

all his life he's had to look out for others, his shoulders have been tense and heavy with the burden of worrying over his team, he's got them through tough moments

and now his children want to do the same? he honestly had hoped those days of distress were over for him, but it seems as if life was barely giving him a break, a moment's peace before it all went back to the way it was

like the loving father he is, he'll speak with them, try to figure out their true thoughts and goals in life, what they think is happiness and how they'd want to achieve it

he won't let them go on ignorantly, they deserve to know the ugly side of it all, but he knows he won't be able to shield them from everything or forever, which is why he must capacitate them to handle life and navigate through the chaos of it

࿐ Simon...

i think y'all remember how he traumatized those children when he told them his life story, you remember how stunned and heartbroken you were when you listened to him explain it you all in one sitting, if it was too much for you to take you know he has no business telling that same story to his kids as well

thankfully he didn't have any of that planned, still he wanted to gently discourage them from pursuing that path, sure he made it out alive but were the injuries even worth it?

they have been blessed with such a great start in life, a loving set of parents who show them what being gentle and kind is, who are willing to lead them through life and protect them from any evil in this world

they don't know how good they have it, and he'd like to for them to sit and ponder a bit more before they reach the brink of diving headfirst or not

࿐ Johnny...

his boys are always asking to go see his friends he still keeps in contact with because hearing only his side isn't enough for them

you can't help but sigh at their recklessness sometimes, they can be too much when they play pretend to be on missions like their father has told them, trying their best to recreate every scene they can remember

you roll your eyes even more when their father joins in, adding in more realistic dialogue and details that make them squeal in delight at how much fun they're having

it's endearing seeing them bond like this, maybe one day they will grow up into what they dream to be, they've got a father they take after in almost every aspect

you know he'd help them reach the stars if they truly wanted, he'll make them believe they can do everything they want to

࿐ Kyle...

he smiles fondly and caresses his daughter's face, "i'm very flattered" he'll say gently so as to not crush her dreams

he knows how much hell he went through, how much worse some of the people he's worked with had it too, and he understood their pain, all of it and tried to help as much as he could

she asks how it was like for him and he doesn't want to sugarcoat any of it because he knows how necessary some details are, still he omits the most gruesome parts

he knows as time passes he'll be able to explain to her in more detail, he'd rather she look up to someone else maybe you, you've been a great parent and partner to him and he couldn't imagine a stronger person than you

࿐ Roach...

he wouldn't want it to be true for anything in the world, this could just be a phase, right? many kids like playing with toy guns and pretending to fight, so he can only hope his kids will grow out of it collectively

the fear and anxiety that ripples through him is too much and you have to hold and calm him down before his mind can spiral too much, "you're thinking too far ahead" you tell him

also, maybe his kids won't get as involved as he thinks they'll be, he remembers the years it took for him to get to where he was, unless they had a strong determination they would lose interest before getting too involved, or at least he hopes

in the end, he learns to accept what may come, they look up to him after all, aren't they only trying to follow what they think is a good example?

࿐ Alejandro...

his kid didn't show much of an interest until they were entering their teenage years, and, as a father, he'd be neutral about it likely, maybe a slight inclination to disagreeing

would sit down and have a long and honest conversation about the topic with his son, he would bring up personal stories that his son hasn't ever heard before

"in the end, it's up to you, mijo" is all he says when he gets up from the chair and leaves his son deep in thought

he may voice his concerns to you and you try your best to listen to your husband, after all he can't help but worry about his kid, just know what whatever path your child decides to take he'll be right there to back them up no matter what <3

࿐ Rudy...

as supportive as he is, he wouldn't want his kids to see all that blood and death, to deal with what he's had to, he knows where his kids will want to reach, they want to be just like him

he sees the good intentions in their little tender hearts and commends them for wanting to help the world, just this isn't the way for them, and when they exclaim and whine he explains with simple analogies to make them understand

doesn't a nurse carry out her duty just as well as a soldier does? should she be ashamed because she's not on the battlefield taking bullets to the chest like the soldier is?

the soldier finds comfort in her, just like how he found comfort in you, how many times he's buried his head into your shoulder when it all felt like too much :((

it's not shameful nor selfish to not want to fight, some problems may be resolved with peace

࿐ Phillip...

either he'd be really proud or would ask if they really wanted that, the "try it out and see if you like it" type, he bets they wouldn't last a second on the job, some just aren't built for it

but in case he does encourage it, you'd probably have a ton of headaches just dealing with the delusions he's putting into your kid's head

he would be trying to build their character and toughen them up, he finds it touching that the kid will want to be like him, well who wouldn't?

would buy the kid their own uniform and everything just so he can take pictures and show it off to his shadows like "one day this kid will be yelling orders at ya"

maybe even take the kid down to the base on days where he'll be doing paperwork and let him run around pretending to be commander

"it's harmless" is all he tells you when you try to hold him accountable for it

࿐ Makarov...

he certainly does not want his children involved in any dirty business, he gets them everything they ever need so they won't have to stain their hands with blood

if anything he tries to hide that double life of his from them, you know how much he cares for them and if anyone found out he even has children much less are out in the open to kill... he'd be destroyed

"it's not something you should do" the advice he gives is more for their concern than anything, there's a lot of stuff he can't tell them even when they demand more information, some things are too much for children to handle

instead he'd like for them to shift their focus on studying or something that won't make them feel guilty down the road, he seeks your support during these times

for he knows what he's worked so hard to hide can be taken away from him in an instant, and these children don't have a clue about it

࿐ Keegan...

he'd say no so fast, but he sees the way his daughter looks at the guns and rifles he has from when he used to fight up on the garage wall, he sees how at the toy isle she picks out a tank instead of a house for her dolls

he's seen how she pulls his old balaclava over her face and look in the mirror when he's passing by her bedroom, how every time they play fight she seems to know where to hit, where is she learning this from?

but she just wants to be like her father who "has saved the world"

he knows he can't stop her from a decision she wants to make but will certainly try and open her eyes more to the truth of it, hopefully she can fully understand by the time she's old enough

࿐ König...

he's been through stuff but he's proud of it, so it shouldn't have been a surprise that his kid will naturally want to follow in that path

he even taught her to fight and stand up for herself since before she could properly walk, she of course wants to be strong like her father

however, he recognizes he used to be weak before he could be tough and an innocent child will surely be swallowed whole by the cruel world

he's had disappointment from not getting what he wants so he's had to be content with becoming the best at what was given

if his child is to face that same world, he'll help her toughen up, to not let a stab at your side bother too much, to learn to prove others wrong

he'll teach her how to fight her way to the top

࿐ Horangi...

he only got into this field because he was leading a terrible life that was going off the rails

and he hopes the love and care that he gives his child won't make them take desperate decisions

on that note, if you currently reside with him in Korea he knows the service will be mandatory, but what if the child has intentions of staying even after the required 18 months is over?

whatever path his kid chooses he will try his best to raise a confident kid who won't throw himself out to the world without a plan

just because horangi didn't have one yet got his life together he advices his child that he still wasted a lot of time

overall, he'd be okay with it

࿐ Nikto...

it's been drilled into him from childhood to be proud of his country and want to serve it one day, however, he realizes it's glorified

it's never how you think it's going to be, and unfortunately he's experienced that gruesome side, it's what left his face and body all torn and his mental health even worse

he won't let his child be pushed into it, sure be useful where you need to be but don't go blindly believing you can be a hero or someone that will be recognized nationally

no one sees the effort or the blood and sweat that you spill and no one will bend to pick it up, they won't see you break under that forcing hand

he'd strongly advice against it

[misseviehyde]

SHADOWS

My ex-boyfriend James is sooooo fucking weak and pathetic. I hate and despise him with every part of my soul. He is everything that is wrong with men these days. Indecisive, overly sensitive, small and pathetic. What a fucking loser.

His twin brother Jason by comparison is a God. He is the man I now desire. Once I despised and hated Jason, but now he is everything I seek in a man. Tall, strong, rich, dominant... he makes me so fucking wet. My new boyfriend is a total Alpha. The longer I stay around him the more feminine I feel. I love what he does to me.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me explain how this all started...

Once I was the nerdiest girl at school. It seems insane to say it now, given how popular I am, but there was a time when I couldn't name six fashion designers or contour my makeup or suck off three boys at once in the cheerleaders locker room. I was a fucking loser.

Terrible skin, flat chested, nerdy glasses and goofy teeth. No. I was once plain little Melanie. I even had ginger hair. No wonder everyone bullied me. Popular rich bitch Madison didn't even exist. I was a fucking nobody.

My life consisted of science fairs, anime and role-playing games. Not the fun role playing games where you dress as a sexy school girl and get railed by a hot guy... no... the loser ones where you pretend to be an elf.

To my shame I was even into LARPIng. Live action role play. Each Friday night, me, James, Jason and our other buddies would go into the local woods to play.

We would run around the woods pretending to be on adventures. Fuckkkk it was so pathetic, I feel a major ick just thinking about it.

Jason wasn't the God he would later become at this point. He and James basically looked the same. I don't know why I had chosen James as my boyfriend. I guess he was slightly more confident and had asked me out first. He and Jason basically looked and acted the same though. Many people couldn't even tell them apart. Even me sometimes.

Then Jason found the shadow and everything changed.

As part of our role playing experience we sometimes brought props along and Jason had found this creepy looking glass bottle in a charity shop. It was opaque and stoppered with a wax cork. Perhaps it held a liquid of some kind? Sometimes it looked like there was something dark swirling inside, but it was kind of hard to tell.

We needed a prop to represent an evil demon that was trapped in a bottle so Jason had brought out the bottle.

As usual the group had split up. It was dark now and I was on my own. I had on my favourite druid costume (ughhh so fucking fugly) and I was creeping through the woods under the moonlight.

Suddenly I saw Jason through a gap in the trees. He was on his own too and carrying the bottle. I headed towards him, he hadn't seen me... in fact he wasn't really paying proper attention to his surroundings, which is maybe why he suddenly tripped over a tree root.

The bottle span from his hands and smashed against the ground with a musical tinkle.

I had a perfect view of everything. Jason was lit by the moonlight, his scrawny body shivering and his eyes wide with fear as a rolling mass of black shadows erupted from the smashed bottle and flowed towards him.

I wanted to scream but my voice had left me and I could only put my hands to my mouth like a parody of some dumb anime girl as the shadows flowed into Jason. Black smoke forced its way down his throat, into his nose. It wrapped and enveloped him, melting and merging into his body.

Then it was gone.

But the scene was not over.

Jason let out a cry, or maybe it was a moan. I watched in horrified fascination (and now I'm happy to admit a little bit or arousal) as I watched him change. Jason... my God... was being born.

Muscles rippled and swelled under his skin, causing his shirt to rip and his fantasy style breeches to bulge. He tore his top off to reveal a rippling six back and toned muscles as his skin flowed like wax and he changed and transformed. He grew taller and bigger, more handsome too as his face became more masculine and his hair cut more stylish.

Grunting and grinning Jason ripped off his pathetic role playing costume and stretched confidently. He was entirely naked now and I gasped in arousal as I saw his magnificent ass and his perfect cock. As I watched it was growing. Ten inches of thick white meat now hung between his huge thighs and I almost salivated as I beheld his perfect manly body.

Jason confidently stretched his body, clearly enjoying how it felt. He grinned perfect white teeth and his eyes, once mild and nerdy shone with ambition and dark desire. He clicked his fingers and there was a wisp of smoke as a stylish black shirt and designer jeans encased his new perfect body. He now looked like a male super model and he strode off through the woods chuckling, leaving me breathing heavily and wondering if I was losing my mind.

***

I ran through the woods. Back then I was ungainly and lacking athletic ability. Whereas now I hit the gym daily and can bend into nearly any position (especially when fucking) I was a fucking loser, so I made quite the noise as I crashed through the trees.

James and the others soon found me and I garbled what I'd seen, but they all thought I was still role playing.

"Babe, it's a cool story, but one detail that doesn't work. My stuck up bullying brother doesn't play with us. He thinks we're losers."

I gawped at James. I thought he was joking at first, but as we spoke it became clear he was serious. The shadow had changed Jason, but it also seemed to have changed everyone's memories of him.

I had no idea why I hadn't been affected. perhaps because I had witnessed his transformation directly or something.

James and the others couldn't understand why I was so upset and worried. The shadow had looked evil and I was worried my boyfriends brother was now under the control of something wicked. I decided I'd have to confront Jason directly and see if I could aid him, so I told the others I felt sick and left to go immediately to James and Jason's house.

James started after me, but I quickly lost him in the woods. I didn't want him to see what had happened to his brother. I was sure I could find a way to save Jason.

Haha, what a fucking idealistic moron I used to be.

***

I arrived at Jason's to find the house had changed. There was now a pickup parked at the front and the house was larger and clearly more expensive. Entering the house I found it was better decorated and I nearly had a heart attack as I entered the kitchen to find Jame's Mom and Dad.

Michael, the Dad was now a handsome looking business man wearing an expensive suit. Linda, James Mom had transformed from a homesy kind Mom into a haughty and beautiful MILF. She looked stunning!

Neither of them paid me much attention, they clearly recognised me as James girlfriend. The sneer and look of disgust Linda gave me left me cold. I can't blame her. Linda is now a major icon to me and we are the BEST of friends. She loves me like a daughter and I've learned so much about manipulating and using men from her. But back then I was a dork dating her loser son James.

But that was soon about to change.

I found Jason in a room I'd never seen before. A personal gym.

He was stripped to the waist, his muscles rippling as he pumped iron. He turned and grinned at me as I entered.

"Well well well. My brothers dork girlfriend? What the hell do you want Melanie?"

"I saw everything Jason. I saw that weird shadow enter you. We have to get it out of you. What have you done to your Mom and Dad? This isn't right."

Jason grinned. "Ahhhh. So you saw it? So you remember the old me? Haha you have no idea Melanie. No idea how good this feels. The shadow within me hungers for power and pleasure. It serves no other purpose but to give me what I want. It can change things, people too. Anything that falls under my shadow can be twisted to serve my whim. I am a fucking God now."

I watched nervously as black shadows seemed to spread around Jason as he spoke. The air rippled with potential and a cold numb feeling spread through my body and my soul. Jason grinned as the light seemed to be sucked out of the room and I was drowning in darkness.

"You could be so much more Melanie. You're such a fucking dork, just like my pathetic brother. I always wanted you to be MY girlfriend and now I have this power you can join me. I won't force you, I want you to join me willingly. A taste of this power and I think you'll want more."

I gasped falling to my knees as the shadows surrounded me. All the warmth and kindness and love inside me was suddenly numbed. It was like the shadow was feeding on my positive emotions... perhaps it was.

The dark shadows enveloped and wrapped my nerdy body. Tempting whispers invaded my mind and I felt Jason's presence beating down on me and willing me to give in. The shadow wanted to change and corrupt me, but it would only do so if I wanted it to. Jason hadn't lied.

I don't know if you've ever been offered something so fucking delicious and perfect that even if it came at the cost of your soul you'd jump at the chance... but when that moment finally arrives, it's pretty hard not to succumb.

I'd seen what the shadow had done to Jason. It had turned him into the perfect example of masculine perfection. It could probably do the same for me, but make me the ultimate girl. All I had to do was let it in and surrender to the darkness.

I'd seen girls in magazines, on TV, on teenage drama programs. I'd always wondered how it would feel to be a Queen Bee... a head cheerleader type. What must it be like to be so pretty you can get whatever you want? How would it feel to be a bitch?

"Yes... change me," I groaned. "But only a little... I just want to be a little prettier."

I gasped as my body suddenly ached and I felt the shadows begin to change me. I ripped my dorky glasses off and felt my brace snap as I spat out the metal to leave perfect white teeth. My red hair turned a sexy black and my pale spotty skin tanned as my body toned.

It felt so fucking good.

"Don't you want more Melanie? Don't you want to become a real fucking bitch? If it feels this good to go a little of the way, why not let the shadows take you all the way?"

Jason had a point. The more I transformed the more I wanted to transform. As I felt myself become more popular and beautiful, the further I found I wanted to go.

"Yessss mmmmore," I gasped feeling the shadows pour down my throat and into my body. I could feel Jason in my mind now, his fingers manipulating my pleasure receptors and his thoughts becoming my own.

"That's right Melanie. You don't want to be a dweeb anymore. You want to go all the way. You want to be a fucking bitch. Say it."

I shuddered as delicious throbs of pleasure pulsed through my body. "I... mmmmmh, ohhh yes, I want to be a bitch."

"That's right Melanie. Let's picture a girl. Let's call her Madison. She's everything you want to be isn't she? Thin, pretty, bratty and spoiled. She's the kind of girl that has a new outfit every day, that all the other girls bow down to. I want you imagine how hot she looks. Nice tits, a toned body, ultra-feminine body language. So different to the dork you are. Are you picturing her?"

I was picturing her. I was thinking of every mean bad girl and bitch I had ever know in real life or in the movies. I was picturing Madison and boy was she fucking hot.

"Now say it. Say you want to be Madison. You want to be the bullying popular Alpha girl."

My pussy was wet, my already partially transformed body felt so good. I needed more... I needed the shadows to corrupt me completely.

"Yessss I want to be Madison."

I screamed and orgasmed as I said it, feeling the shadows flowing into me and destroying Melanie forever. All the kind gentle nice parts of me were consumed and the shadows pumped me full of evil, mean bratty thoughts.

Melanie died in that instant and I... Madison... took control.

Long bitchy nails shot out from my fingers. My face became meaner and even prettier, soft pouty lips curving into a bratty grin. My clothing became designer, my handbag expensive and my personality became that of a spoiled rich bitch.

Reality rippled and changed. Only Jason and I would remember the old me. It was as if Melanie had never existed and only I had been born.

The shadows withdrew, but they left their mark. I was a fucking evil bitch now, devoid of mercy. I only cared about myself... oh and Jason of course.

"How do you feel baby?" he grinned, towering over me in his Adonis body.

"I feel amazing baby," I grinned. "In fact I want to thank you for being the best boyfriend ever."

I giggled and sank eagerly to my knees. My long nails looked so hawt as I unzipped Jason's fly and his huge ten inch dick flopped out.

Moaning I began to pump and suck his cock. This was who and what I worshipped now. Jason had taken me from that loser James.

"Yesssss, good girl," grunted Jason as he put his hands gently on my head and pushed me deeper onto his cock. "You're my slutty bitch now and I have everything I ever wanted."

I just gagged and gargled happily, I fucking loved my man's big cock.

I couldn't wait for him to cum. I needed to taste it...

***

And so that is how I ascended from being a fucking pathetic loser into a Goddess myself. Jason is the Master of the Shadow and so long as he holds that power I am his willing accomplice.

Soon after the transformation James came home. He no longer remembered I had ever been his girl, but that didn't stop me and Jason fucking loudly next door and laughing about the little simp jerking off in his room next door.

I felt so evil and perfect. Being Madison was like a perpetual state of orgasm. The meaner and nastier I was, the better it all felt.

Sometimes I wondered what would have happened if James had smashed that bottle instead of Jason? Perhaps he would be the Alpha stud with the delicious bitchy girlfriend.

But it was just idle speculation. The shadows answered to Jason...

And I answered only to the shadows now.

THE END

[bunnybuunn]

Purple.

Summary: Agatha is hiding her true identity from the little!reader, but when she finds out the truth her reaction isn’t exactly what Agatha had expected.

Warnings: Age regression; none.

Agatha came to the Westview for a reason. She wanted something that would make her even more powerful, something valuable for her was here, and she knew it. The woman could feel it in her guts. 

However, her intentions changed quickly when she had found you. 

The perfect little girl, who obviously needed someone who could take care of her. Of course, you haven’t admitted it out loud, but Agatha knew from the first glance. Your demeanor was giving away everything, just as well as your thoughts. At first, Witch thought that the reason for your regression was Wanda’s control over your mind, but then she found out that she was wrong. After Agatha helped you get out from under Wanda’s control, she was surprised. You were still regressed, looking at her with those big puppy eyes of yours.

Eventually, Agatha gave up and took you home. She just kept on playing the role that she had chosen earlier—the nosy neighbor. The woman was way too nervous to show you her real identity.

Agatha wasn’t a very affectionate or loving person, but with you it was different. Everything was different when you were near her. She loved the idea of having someone who loves her unconditionally around. She also kind of liked you and your unusual-for-a-big-girl behavior. When you finally started calling her „Mama,” she knew that she can’t lose that title, and for that to not happen, she has to keep herself in check and not let her true persona show. 

Usually, she would work with the witchy stuff only after you would go to bed or when you were taking a nap. 

Today was just a casual day for both of you. You decided to take a nap, after playing outside for a little bit, and Agatha was relieved that she can finally let her true identity out. She gave you a kiss on the forehead and made sure that you were asleep before going to the basement, to work with her powers. She was really trying not to be too loud, so you won’t wake up because of the noise, but unintentionally she failed.

You opened your eyes because of the noise coming from the downstairs and almost  immediately got up from the couch. 

What if something happened with your mama? 

 

„Mama?”

 

You called out, but Agatha couldn’t hear it, since the basement was far away from the living room where you had fallen asleep earlier. You wanted to call for her again, but when you heard where the noises were coming from, you froze. 

Basement. 

She clearly told you earlier to not enter the basement without her, and you listened to your mama like a good little girl. You didn’t mean to disobey her, but the scary thoughts of her being in danger wouldn’t leave your head. You bit your lips and stepped on the first stage, slowly getting down to the basement.

What you saw left you speechless for a moment.

Your mama was standing at the center of the room, purple string coming out of her hands while she was making some objects fly or change their form. You tried to keep quiet, so you wouldn’t interrupt her from what she was doing, but you failed when a quiet gasp left your mouth.

Agatha immediately stopped what she was doing and turned her head in your direction. It was pretty obvious that the woman didn’t know what to say or what emotions to use. 

She sighed loudly, approaching you slowly. Agatha was surprised when you hadn't tried to run away.

You haven’t even moved an inch. 

 

„I told you to not enter the basement, bunny.“

 

She said, though her voice sounded more disappointed than angry. Agatha knew that that was about to happen, and she was stupid for believing that this time everything would be different. She was evil, and evil ones always end up alone. Just as she was ready to hear some nasty words from you, you went ahead and surprised her once more. 

 

„Mama, can you do that again? Use your purple!”

 

You asked with your sweet voice, feeling a little bit confused when you saw her eyes widen. You didn’t know how much those words meant to Agatha, who used to see people being afraid of her.

She nodded, and the next minute two purple strings left her hands, turning the chair into the big plushie. You clapped with your hands and went ahead to pick up your new stuffie from the floor. 

Agatha just stands there fascinated. She couldn’t believe that someone could love and trust her that much. She crouched down to give you a gentle kiss on the cheek, and then she looked at you like she never had before. Her gaze was filled with affection and some other feelings that she wasn’t ready to admit just yet. 

You got up from the floor, looking at Agatha with a little glimpse of pure excitement in your eyes. 

 

„Mama, can you fly on the broom? Like an evil witch from the movie that we watched last night?”

 

Agatha sighed dramatically, pretending to be offended by being called an evil witch. She knew that you were just comparing her to the Wicked Witch of the West from the „Wizard of Oz", and practically you were right. Of course she was an evil witch, but you didn’t need to know that, and she wasn’t planning on telling you. Maybe someday you will find out yourself, and she hoped that even then you would still love her. 

 

“No, but you know what I can do?”

 

Agatha asked, lowering her voice. You shook your head, waiting for what she was about to say. But instead of giving you an actual answer, she approached you and started wiggling her fingers, using a just little bit of her „purple” on her fingertips for the spooky effect.

 

„I can tickle you. Would that be evil enough for you, bunny?”

 

You turned around and quickly ran away, already giggling as you were making your way out of Agatha’s basement. She gave you a head start before starting to chase after you. While she was waiting, a crazy thought appeared in her head. 

What if she already found something valuable?

Something that had already made her feel even more powerful? 

Taglist: @tinylilacbun @aew-regression-cove @hikyiwid