#intoxicating fear fanfic

[jglaltacct]

Dark Currents (Intoxicating Fear Fanfic)

I: Dark Currents

@chaotic-orphan

TW: choking, strangling, strangulation, stalking, drugging, intimate whumper, intimidating whumper, disoriented whumpee.

The night was a deep blanket of silence as Kit walked home, the distant sounds of the city fading behind him. After a gruelling shift at the hero tower, fatigue clung to him like a shadow. The dark alleyway ahead felt especially foreboding, its walls lined with graffiti that whispered stories of forgotten souls. Streetlights flickered, casting unsettling shadows that danced across the damp pavement, creating an eerie mosaic of light and dark.

Just as Kit turned a corner, a figure lunged from the depths of the shadows—Ambrose.

Before Kit could react, Ambrose tackled him to the ground, the impact knocking the wind out of him. He gasped as Ambrose’s hands tightened around his throat, panic surging within him like a tidal wave. The chill of the concrete seeped into his skin, contrasting sharply with the heat of his rising fear.

"You thought you could escape me?" Ambrose’s voice was cold, filled with a twisted satisfaction that sent shivers down Kit’s spine.

"Let me go!" Kit shouted, desperation creeping into his voice. He strained to summon his electric abilities, but Ambrose’s grip was like iron, dulling his spark, leaving him feeling powerless.

Ambrose leaned closer, a cruel smile curling his lips, the flickering streetlight illuminating his features in a sinister glow. "You’re not in control here."

Kit’s heart raced as he twisted beneath Ambrose, trying to break free. With a sudden burst of strength, he managed to throw Ambrose off balance, but it was temporary. Ambrose was on him again, pinning him down, his hands constricting around Kit’s throat like a vice, the world narrowing to a painful focus.

"Why did you come back?" Kit gasped, struggling for air.

"Because you need to come with me," Ambrose replied, his tone unyielding, as if he were delivering a decree. "You belong with me, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen."

Kit’s mind raced, memories flashing like lightning. The last time he had seen Ambrose, it had been under vastly different circumstances—filled with a familial solidarity, occasional laughter echoing in the air, not this violent chaos.

In his mind's eye, Kit recalled Ambrose and Jude, silhouetted against the city lights, locked in a passionate kiss, their joy stark against the backdrop of a darkening sky. They had looked so carefree, so oblivious to the storm brewing around them.

It was just a rumour, Ambrose’s voice echoed in Kit's thoughts, a haunting refrain. Jude and I... it meant nothing.

With a sudden surge of adrenaline, Kit managed to shove Ambrose off him, scrambling to his feet. But Ambrose quickly recovered, grabbing Kit’s arm and pulling him close again, the smell of sweat and cologne enveloping Kit in a dizzying haze.

"Let’s talk," Ambrose said, his grip still firm, the intensity of his gaze unyielding.

Reluctantly, Kit followed, feeling the tension crackle in the air between them like static electricity. They walked to a nearby bar, its neon sign flickering ominously, casting a ghostly glow on the cracked pavement. Inside, the atmosphere felt heavy, thick with unspoken words and the scent of stale beer mingling with the faint aroma of cigarette smoke.

Max, the bar owner, greeted them with a nod, his weathered face a map of years spent in the dim light. "What’ll it be?"

"Two shots of whiskey," Ambrose ordered, his tone lacking warmth, as if he were merely playing a role in a dark theatre.

As they settled onto the bar stools, the faux leather cracked beneath them, and Kit couldn’t shake the unease that clung to him like a second skin. "What about Jude?" he pressed, muted anger flaring again, the question like a lit fuse.

Ambrose waved a dismissive hand, irritation flickering across his features. "Forget him. We have more pressing matters."

The whiskey arrived, amber liquid glinting under the low light, and they downed the shots, the burn cutting through the tension like a knife. Ambrose leaned in closer, his voice low and conspiratorial. "You still don’t understand, do you? You’re meant for more than this life."

Kit narrowed his eyes, anger bubbling beneath the surface, a tempest ready to erupt. "You think you can just show up and demand I leave everything behind?"

Ambrose’s gaze was intense, as if he were peering into Kit’s very soul. "This place is holding you back," he replied. "You need to step into the light with me."

Kit felt the weight of Ambrose's words, but the alcohol was dulling his resolve, making the room sway slightly.

Unbeknownst to Kit, Ambrose had slipped something into his drink. After another sip, a wave of dizziness washed over him, the world spinning around him like a carousel gone awry.

"What did you do?" he slurred, struggling to stay upright, the edges of his vision blurring.

"Just a little something to help you relax," Ambrose said casually, a predatory glint in his eyes that sent a shiver down Kit’s spine.

Kit’s strength faded, and he felt the ghost of Ambrose’s hand tighten around his throat again, the imaginary pressure making it hard to breathe, suffocating him with fear.

"Why are you doing this?" Kit gasped, panic rising like bile.

"Because I need you to understand," Ambrose said, his tone chilling, devoid of warmth. "You’re mine."

As they stumbled back to Kit's apartment, Ambrose’s presence loomed over him like a storm cloud, dark and oppressive. Inside, Ambrose closed the door with a slow, deliberate motion, the sound echoing ominously in the small space.

"This isn’t over," Kit whispered, fear and anger churning in his chest like a storm at sea.

Ambrose stepped closer, his expression shifting to something darker, more primal. "We need to talk about us."

"Us?" Kit echoed, scepticism lacing his voice, as if he were trying to make sense of a riddle with no answer.

Ambrose held his gaze, eyes intense and fierce. "I didn’t abandon you. I had my reasons, but now I’m back for you."

Kit’s heart raced, caught between anger and the flicker of something darker, something he didn’t want to acknowledge. "You think it’s that simple?"

The pressure around his throat returned, tightening just enough to send panic coursing through him like a wildfire. "You need to listen," Ambrose commanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"You can’t just expect me to forgive you," Kit managed to say, breathless, the words escaping in a whine.

"I came back for you," Ambrose insisted, his grip still firm, unyielding. "You have to understand."

Kit felt the pressure building, the edges of his vision blurring as darkness threatened to creep in. "You’re hurting me," he gasped, his voice barely a whisper.

Ambrose released him slightly, but his eyes remained locked on Kit’s, a predatory intensity that made Kit’s pulse race. "I won’t let you go that easily."

"What do you want from me?" Kit managed, desperation creeping into his voice, the weight of the world pressing down on him.

"I want you by my side," Ambrose replied, voice low and menacing, each word dripping with a power that was both alluring and terrifying. "But first, you need to know what you’re getting into."

Kit glared at Ambrose, heart racing, feeling trapped. "This isn’t love—or whatever you think this is. You’re just trying to control me."

Ambrose stepped closer, the tension between them palpable, electric. "I’m trying to save you. You don’t see it yet, but I’m the only one who can."

"I can take care of myself!" Kit shouted, his anger finally boiling over, a defiant spark igniting in his chest.

With a swift movement, Ambrose seized Kit again, his grip tightening until Kit felt the world closing in around him, darkness threatening to swallow him whole. "You’ll understand," Ambrose said, voice cold and unyielding.

Just as Kit felt he might pass out, Ambrose released him, stepping back, breathing heavily, as if he were wrestling with his own demons. "I want you back, Kit. But you need to accept that I won’t let you go."

Kit staggered, gasping for air, the fear mingling with something else he couldn’t quite place, an unsettling mix of dread and yearning. "What have you done?"

Ambrose’s expression turned serious, the weight of his words heavy in the air. "I’m not playing games. This is about survival."

As dawn broke, pale light filtering through the grimy window, Kit knew he had to confront Ambrose and figure out what he truly wanted. The weight of the night pressed down on him, suffocating yet exhilarating, but he couldn’t ignore the twisted bond that kept pulling them together.

This was only the beginning, and Kit had no idea where it would lead them. The struggle for control would continue, but one thing was certain: he wouldn’t back down that easily.

Continued here

[chaotic-orphan]

Sooo… I finally wrote it. And let me warn you in advance that it is the absolute worst thing I’ve ever written in my entire life. LIke what in the wattpad fic is this?? What in the c.ai is this??? 

But also, I catered to that one infamous choking anon—look, I tried my best, okay? Also, I do love me a little choking 💀😭

The story may feel disjointed and rushed at parts, but that’s because it is— it has no real plot whatsoever. I guess I was just going for the general vibe rather than a fully fleshed out story? But then again, it is a fanfic, sooo…

Anyways, hope y’all enjoy my pathetic attempt at an Intoxicating Fear fic. Love y’alls lots, and you too, @chaotic-orphan!

xx

-~-~-~-~-~-

The night was a deep blanket of silence as Kit walked home, the distant sounds of the city fading behind him. After a gruelling shift at the hero tower, fatigue clung to him like a shadow. The dark alleyway ahead felt especially foreboding, its walls lined with graffiti that whispered stories of forgotten souls. Streetlights flickered, casting unsettling shadows that danced across the damp pavement, creating an eerie mosaic of light and dark.

Just as Kit turned a corner, a figure lunged from the depths of the shadows—Ambrose.

Before Kit could react, Ambrose tackled him to the ground, the impact knocking the wind out of him. He gasped as Ambrose’s hands tightened around his throat, panic surging within him like a tidal wave. The chill of the concrete seeped into his skin, contrasting sharply with the heat of his rising fear.

"You thought you could escape me?" Ambrose’s voice was cold, filled with a twisted satisfaction that sent shivers down Kit’s spine.

"Let me go!" Kit shouted, desperation creeping into his voice. He strained to summon his electric abilities, but Ambrose’s grip was like iron, dulling his spark, leaving him feeling powerless.

Ambrose leaned closer, a cruel smile curling his lips, the flickering streetlight illuminating his features in a sinister glow. "You’re not in control here."

Kit’s heart raced as he twisted beneath Ambrose, trying to break free. With a sudden burst of strength, he managed to throw Ambrose off balance, but it was temporary. Ambrose was on him again, pinning him down, his hands constricting around Kit’s throat like a vice, the world narrowing to a painful focus.

"Why did you come back?" Kit gasped, struggling for air.

"Because you need to come with me," Ambrose replied, his tone unyielding, as if he were delivering a decree. "You belong with me, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen."

Kit’s mind raced, memories flashing like lightning. The last time he had seen Ambrose, it had been under vastly different circumstances—filled with a familial solidarity, occasional laughter echoing in the air, not this violent chaos.

In his mind's eye, Kit recalled Ambrose and Jude, silhouetted against the city lights, locked in a passionate kiss, their joy stark against the backdrop of a darkening sky. They had looked so carefree, so oblivious to the storm brewing around them.

It was just a rumour, Ambrose’s voice echoed in Kit's thoughts, a haunting refrain. Jude and I... it meant nothing.

With a sudden surge of adrenaline, Kit managed to shove Ambrose off him, scrambling to his feet. But Ambrose quickly recovered, grabbing Kit’s arm and pulling him close again, the smell of sweat and cologne enveloping Kit in a dizzying haze.

"Let’s talk," Ambrose said, his grip still firm, the intensity of his gaze unyielding.

Reluctantly, Kit followed, feeling the tension crackle in the air between them like static electricity. They walked to a nearby bar, its neon sign flickering ominously, casting a ghostly glow on the cracked pavement. Inside, the atmosphere felt heavy, thick with unspoken words and the scent of stale beer mingling with the faint aroma of cigarette smoke.

Max, the bar owner, greeted them with a nod, his weathered face a map of years spent in the dim light. "What’ll it be?"

"Two shots of whiskey," Ambrose ordered, his tone lacking warmth, as if he were merely playing a role in a dark theatre.

As they settled onto the bar stools, the faux leather cracked beneath them, and Kit couldn’t shake the unease that clung to him like a second skin. "What about Jude?" he pressed, muted anger flaring again, the question like a lit fuse.

Ambrose waved a dismissive hand, irritation flickering across his features. "Forget him. We have more pressing matters."

The whiskey arrived, amber liquid glinting under the low light, and they downed the shots, the burn cutting through the tension like a knife. Ambrose leaned in closer, his voice low and conspiratorial. "You still don’t understand, do you? You’re meant for more than this life."

Kit narrowed his eyes, anger bubbling beneath the surface, a tempest ready to erupt. "You think you can just show up and demand I leave everything behind?"

Ambrose’s gaze was intense, as if he were peering into Kit’s very soul. "This place is holding you back," he replied. "You need to step into the light with me."

Kit felt the weight of Ambrose's words, but the alcohol was dulling his resolve, making the room sway slightly.

Unbeknownst to Kit, Ambrose had slipped something into his drink. After another sip, a wave of dizziness washed over him, the world spinning around him like a carousel gone awry.

"What did you do?" he slurred, struggling to stay upright, the edges of his vision blurring.

"Just a little something to help you relax," Ambrose said casually, a predatory glint in his eyes that sent a shiver down Kit’s spine.

Kit’s strength faded, and he felt the ghost of Ambrose’s hand tighten around his throat again, the imaginary pressure making it hard to breathe, suffocating him with fear.

"Why are you doing this?" Kit gasped, panic rising like bile.

"Because I need you to understand," Ambrose said, his tone chilling, devoid of warmth. "You’re mine."

As they stumbled back to Kit's apartment, Ambrose’s presence loomed over him like a storm cloud, dark and oppressive. Inside, Ambrose closed the door with a slow, deliberate motion, the sound echoing ominously in the small space.

"This isn’t over," Kit whispered, fear and anger churning in his chest like a storm at sea.

Ambrose stepped closer, his expression shifting to something darker, more primal. "We need to talk about us."

"Us?" Kit echoed, scepticism lacing his voice, as if he were trying to make sense of a riddle with no answer.

Ambrose held his gaze, eyes intense and fierce. "I didn’t abandon you. I had my reasons, but now I’m back for you."

Kit’s heart raced, caught between anger and the flicker of something darker, something he didn’t want to acknowledge. "You think it’s that simple?"

The pressure around his throat returned, tightening just enough to send panic coursing through him like a wildfire. "You need to listen," Ambrose commanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"You can’t just expect me to forgive you," Kit managed to say, breathless, the words escaping in a whine.

"I came back for you," Ambrose insisted, his grip still firm, unyielding. "You have to understand."

Kit felt the pressure building, the edges of his vision blurring as darkness threatened to creep in. "You’re hurting me," he gasped, his voice barely a whisper.

Ambrose released him slightly, but his eyes remained locked on Kit’s, a predatory intensity that made Kit’s pulse race. "I won’t let you go that easily."

"What do you want from me?" Kit managed, desperation creeping into his voice, the weight of the world pressing down on him.

"I want you by my side," Ambrose replied, voice low and menacing, each word dripping with a power that was both alluring and terrifying. "But first, you need to know what you’re getting into."

Kit glared at Ambrose, heart racing, feeling trapped. "This isn’t love—or whatever you think this is. You’re just trying to control me."

Ambrose stepped closer, the tension between them palpable, electric. "I’m trying to save you. You don’t see it yet, but I’m the only one who can."

"I can take care of myself!" Kit shouted, his anger finally boiling over, a defiant spark igniting in his chest.

With a swift movement, Ambrose seized Kit again, his grip tightening until Kit felt the world closing in around him, darkness threatening to swallow him whole. "You’ll understand," Ambrose said, voice cold and unyielding.

Just as Kit felt he might pass out, Ambrose released him, stepping back, breathing heavily, as if he were wrestling with his own demons. "I want you back, Kit. But you need to accept that I won’t let you go."

Kit staggered, gasping for air, the fear mingling with something else he couldn’t quite place, an unsettling mix of dread and yearning. "What have you done?"

Ambrose’s expression turned serious, the weight of his words heavy in the air. "I’m not playing games. This is about survival."

As dawn broke, pale light filtering through the grimy window, Kit knew he had to confront Ambrose and figure out what he truly wanted. The weight of the night pressed down on him, suffocating yet exhilarating, but he couldn’t ignore the twisted bond that kept pulling them together.

This was only the beginning, and Kit had no idea where it would lead them. The struggle for control would continue, but one thing was certain: he wouldn’t back down that easily.

OSKIT SHIPPERS!!!!

CALLING OSKIT SHIPPERS!!!

WHAT IS THIS MASTERPIECE?!?!! OMG I LOVED IT, THE TENSION THE SUSPENSE!!!! ✨THE CHOKING✨ THE DESCRIPTIONS ARE SO GOOD!!! THE SETTING THE EMOTION, ALL MWAH MWAH MWAH!!!! Not only Oskit Shippers but Judkar too!!!!! THIS WAS SUCH A DELIGHTFUL READ!!!!

PLEASE PUBLISH IT IF YOU’RE COMFORTABLE WITH IT!!! And if not that’s okay too, but fuck this was so enjoyable, if you’re a writer (which you MUST be, even in your spare time) send me a DM or something so I can follow your account if you write ((or you think you ever will)) because fuuuuccckk me your description is IMMACULATE and I want more!!!!

Sorry for fangirling and absolutely no pressure on my part, I just loved that, even if you’re thinking of continuing this, just wow!!! You have an immediate fan

LIKE THAT OPENING PARAGRAPH IS SO GOOD AND THEN IT JUST HOOKS YOU LIKE OMG!!!! This was incredible and the little mystery of the next morning, Kit’s disorientation of last night so good!!!! Just a fucking delight Anon, wow.

Even the dynamics of Kit and Ambrose you caught perfectly, and Ambrose’s need to control Kit🫡 CHEF’S KISS!!! Fuck I will rant more if I don’t stop, I just wow!!!! WOW!!!!! HAH HAH!!!! That was great, thank you for writing it and sharing it wow!!!!! Brilliant!!!!

[greengoblinswifey]

Old Flames, New Fire— Jaehyun x Fem!Reader

summary— you and jaehyun are torn apart by his commitment issues but when he sends you a ticket the ab nct concert, you reconnect unexpectedly with old sparks reigniting during an intimate and apologetic backstage meeting after a show the show

warnings— exes to lovers, oral(m&f receiving), praise kink, choking, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, fluff.

a/n— my first nct fanfic requested by my hg, hope you all enjoy <3

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

You hadn’t seen Jaehyun in over six months—not since the breakup. The relationship had been a whirlwind of emotions, full of late-night phone calls, spontaneous road trips, and quiet nights where his voice lulled you to sleep. But as intoxicating as it was, it had unraveled just as quickly.

“I can’t do this right now,” he had said that night, his voice low but firm, his eyes avoiding yours. “It’s not you. It’s just, I’m not ready for something this serious.”

You remembered standing there, stunned, trying to process his words. “You’re not ready?”you had repeated, bitterness seeping into your tone. "Then why start this at all? Why make me fall for you if you were going to leave?”

He had no answer. His silence cut deeper than anything he could have said. Despite his claims, you knew there was more to it. Jaehyun was afraid—of what it meant to love and to be loved fully. His commitment issues stemmed from the intense pressure of his career, the relentless schedules, and his fear of letting someone in only to disappoint them.

Now, months later, you found yourself at his concert. The ticket had come unexpectedly, delivered with a simple note, Come. Please.

The arena was packed, the energy palpable as NCT took the stage. Jaehyun was magnetic, his every movement commanding attention. But your focus was on him alone. His eyes scanned the crowd as if searching for something—or someone. When his gaze landed on you, it lingered, a flicker of recognition and something unspoken passing between you.

After the show, you were escorted backstage. Jaehyun was waiting, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, his hair damp with sweat. The sight of him sent something through you, but you steadied yourself.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, his voice softer than you remembered.

“I almost didn’t,” you admitted, crossing your arms defensively. “Why now, Jaehyun? What do you want?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know I messed up,” he said, his tone sincere. “I pushed you away because I was scared. Scared of how much I wanted this—wanted you.”

Your heart twisted at his words. “You don’t get to do this,” you said, your voice firm. “You don’t get to walk back in and expect me to just forgive you.”

“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “I’m asking for a chance to prove that I can do better, that I want to do better for you.”

The sincerity in his eyes was disarming. But the pain of the past still lingered. “And what happens when it gets too hard again? When the schedules and the pressure become too much? Do you leave me again?”

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “No. I’ve learned, I’m not perfect, but I’m not running this time.”

You studied him, searching for cracks in his resolve. But all you saw was the man you had fallen for—the man who, despite everything, still made your heart race.

The tension was thick as he led you to his dressing room, his hand brushing against yours. Once inside, the air seemed to shift. “I meant every word I said out there,” he murmured, his voice low. “But if you don’t want this, tell me now.”

You didn’t reply with words. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. Months of longing and unresolved emotions poured out, the connection between you just the same.

“Still can’t speak when I’m around,” he teased, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

“Shut up,” you murmured, pulling him closer.

Your lips crashed against each other as his hands roamed your body, making sure he felt every inch of you to make up for the past few months. When you finally pulled away, he had that stupid smirk on his face.

Back at his hotel room, he handed you a glass of water, his usual post-show routine on full display. His eyes kept flicking back to you, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Finally, he sighed and sat down next to you on the couch. “I owe you more than an apology,” he began, his tone earnest. “I was so scared back then, scared of failing, scared of letting you down. And instead of facing it, I pushed you away.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “It wasn’t just fear, Jaehyun. You didn’t trust me to handle it with you.”

“I know,” he admitted, running a hand through his dark hair. “I was selfish. And I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. But I want to show you that I’ve changed—if you’ll let me.”

His vulnerability caught you off guard, but the sincerity in his voice was undeniable.

“Show me,” you said simply, a small smile on your lips.

You stood, the black silk of your dress catching the soft hotel lighting as it slid off your shoulders. His gaze darkened as the fabric pooled at your feet, revealing your black thong.

“Who’s this for?” he asked

“Whoever the lucky guy backstage was going to be,” you replied with a smirk, watching as his eyes widened slightly before narrowing in playful challenge.

“You’re something else,” he muttered, stepping closer and brushing his fingers along your jawline.

He eased you onto the bed, his hands grazing your sides as he peeled the thong away. When he paused, his eyes flickering with surprise, you felt a spark of pride.

“You’re this wet already?” he murmured

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you teased, though your breath hitched as he lowered his head to your leaking pussy.

His movements were deliberate, every flick of his tongue, every kiss on your clit reigniting memories of the passion you’d shared before. Your hands tangled in his hair as his lips and tongue worked their magic, drawing soft moans and gasps from you.

“Baby,” you whispered, your voice breathy and unsteady.

“Cum on my tongue,” he urged, his voice low and full of need. You obeyed, your body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you.

When he finally looked up, his lips glistening, he smirked at your flushed expression. “Still the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he said, his voice tinged with mischief.

But as he sat back, you felt a sudden urge to even the score.

“Your turn,” you said, your voice firm as you reached for his shirt.

“You don’t have to,” he protested, though his words lacked conviction.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you replied, your hands already working the buttons. “You know how much I love your dick in my mouth.”

You kissed along his chest, savoring the way his breath hitched as your lips traveled lower. When you finally fell to your knees, his body tensed.

Your movements were purposeful, every touch designed to elicit a response. You took him deep into your mouth, working your tongue from the base back up to the pink, leaking tip. You then moved to stroking the girthy base, your tongue now focused on swirling around the tip, the saltiness savory on your tastebuds. His hands found their way into your hair, gripping lightly as he moaned and whimpered under your attention.

“God,” he groaned, his voice shaky. “I missed that mouth.”

You smirked, speeding up your efforts, determined to push him over the edge. You bobbed your head faster, gagging noises filling the hotel room as his cock got sloppier and twitched in your mouth. Not be able to hold on any longer, he finally released, his body trembling and you swallowed his cum, looking up at him with a satisfied grin.

He pulled you up and kissed you deeply, his hands cradling your face. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his voice full of reverence.

The moment Jaehyun pressed you against the bed, the weight of him grounding you, every lingering doubt you had about the two of you dissolved. His lips moved with an urgency that felt like he’d been starving for you, his hands wandering over your naked body as if memorizing every curve all over again.

He broke the kiss first, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged. “I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

Your reply got caught in your throat when you felt him hard against your thigh. A faint blush rose to his cheeks when he noticed your smirk.

“That looks painful," you teased, your voice laced with amusement.

He groaned softly, running a hand down your side. “Yeah, well, maybe you could help me out?” His lips brushing over your jaw. “Let me make you feel good too.”

You bit your bottom lip, hesitating for a split second before nodding. You weren’t in the mood to play coy, you’d been craving this as much as he had.

You felt his tip brush against your wet folds, and the sensation sent a jolt through you. He teased you at first, sliding over your wet pussy, creating that aching friction. The squelching noise filled the room, making your cheeks burn.

“You hear how wet you are?” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. “That’s all for me.”

You opened your mouth for a snarky reply, but the words died the moment his thick cock pushed into you, a gasp escaping your lips instead.

“Fuck, still just as tight as I remember,” he growled, his voice strained as he eased himself deeper.

He started slow, letting you adjust, but every thrust felt hard and deliberate, as though he wanted you to feel every inch of him. One hand gripped your hip, and the other slipped around your throat, his fingers applying just enough pressure to make your heart race.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he whispered against your lips, his movements steady and controlled, your body jolting beneath him.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” he asked, his tone dark but affectionate.

“You,” you whimpered, arching against him.

“That’s right,” he said, his voice softening. “And it’s only ever going to be me. You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

His words made your orgasm rip through you, the coil in your body finally snapping. You cried out, clinging to him as your release washed over you, leaving you trembling beneath him.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, brushing his lips against your temple.

Before you could catch your breath, he flipped you over, pulling you into his lap. “Remember how much I love watching you ride me?" he asked, his hands firm on your hips.

You smirked, resting your palms on his chest. “I could never forget.”

Slowly, you began to move on his cock, savoring the way he stretched you. His hands gripped your waist, guiding your rhythm, while his lips found the sensitive spot on your neck that always made you shiver.

“You’re doing so good,” he groaned, his voice full of pride. “I missed this—missed you.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders as you bounced on his thick cock faster, your body responding to every praise and touch. He moaned your name, his grip tightening when you reached you finally shuddered again, trembling in his arms. The feeling left you limp.

Jaehyun wasn’t far behind. Flipping you onto your back, he picked up his pace, his hands framing your face as he whispered your name like a prayer. He thrusted up into you, pounding like his life depended on it so he could get the release he wanted to. As he did, you locked your legs around him, a droopy smirk on your lips.

“You need to let go baby, I’m close,” he warned, his voice desperate.

You shook your head, pulling him closer. “No. Cum inside me. Now.”

His eyes searched yours for a moment before his cum spurted deep inside your pussy, his body shuddering against yours as he spilled into you.

The two of you lay tangled together afterward, his hand stroking your hair as his lips found your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth and then your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “For everything. I’ll make it up to you—I swear.”

“You’d better,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere. Just promise me you won’t either.”

He kissed you deeply, pulling you closer. "I promise."

[pascaloverx]

DEVIL (+18)

Summary: You are a demonic creature, capable of doing whatever you please, whenever you wish. Your goal on Earth is to terrorize as many souls as possible. Until, in a small community, you find the perfect victim for your mischievous games: Father Charlie Mayhew.

Author's Note: Frankly, I just needed to write something about this character portrayed by Nicholas Alexander Chavez. The character and others, apart from Y/N, are not my creation. They belong to the Grotesquerie (2024) universe created by Ryan Murphy. So, dear readers, I must say I didn’t expect to write more than one chapter for this fanfic. But here we are now at the third chapter. I’d love to know if you’d like more chapters or if you’re satisfied so far. Depending on how this chapter performs, I’ll bring you more sinful priest content. I’ve also been considering the possibility of writing another fanfic featuring Dr. Charlie Mayhew (those who follow Grotesquerie may already know him). If you’re interested, feel free to comment. Thank you to everyone who reads my fic. See you soon!

Content Warning: This chapter contains adult language as well as adult content.

TWO FOUR

THREE

"Free yourself from Father Mayhew, demon. There is nothing more pathetic than being emotionally involved with a mere sinful mortal. Kill him, soon." The message arrives in a self-destructing letter, signed by the dark master, as if it were meant to intimidate you. You let out a laugh, dismissing the threat with a wave of your hand. You’ll part with your priest when you choose, not even Satan himself will sway your decision. The warm water envelops you, fragrant bubbles rising around you as you sip your wine, savoring the luxurious moment. It’s a reminder of your power, of the pleasures you can indulge in. As the warmth seeps into your bones, you can’t help but think of Father Mayhew, his struggles, and the delicious chaos you’ve woven into his life. This game has only just begun.

Until his voice fills the space, your priest is calling out for you. “Forgive me, Father, but I wish to continue sinning. I miss the demonic essence of the sinful creature that invades my mind every morning and night. I will not deceive you; I want that demon for myself, just as I fear that I no longer belong to my Blessed God, but rather to her. She has infected me, like a disease. She inhabits my skin, as if she seeks to dominate me. If it is your will, quench the thirst I have for her lips. Erase the memory of her skin against mine, but I implore you, Almighty God, bring her back to me.” You’ve avoided him for days since your last encounter, as it should be. Otherwise, it would seem like you are taking his side, sparing him from the consequences of his desires. The game continues, and you revel in the anticipation of his next move. Each prayer, each desperate plea only deepens your resolve, drawing you back into his world. The tension between sin and devotion creates a thrilling dynamic that you can’t ignore.

Suddenly, the taste of alcohol in your wine no longer intoxicates you. You crave the taste of him on your lips. He is not the only one feeling sick; you sense that he is infecting you as well. Resisting temptation is becoming nearly impossible. You step out of the bath, hair still damp, contemplating your next move. A red dress lies on your bed, paired with matching heels on the floor of your room. It is time to go and make a confession.

You slip into the dress, feeling the fabric hug your form perfectly, and the heels elevate your presence, transforming you into a vision of temptation. The mirror reflects a figure that embodies both allure and danger, a demon ready to weave her spell once more. You arrive at the church abruptly, using your powers to teleport to the entrance of the sacred space. The familiar scent of incense and polished wood surrounds you as you step inside, the heavy doors closing silently behind you.

The priest Mayhew stands before the altar, clad in leather pants that leave his butt exposed, as if he has emerged from the depths of the most sinful fantasy. He wears a sheer lace nightgown that accentuates his form, embodying an alluring mix of innocence and decadence. As he extinguishes the flickering candles, there is an air of temptation surrounding him, making the scene both captivating and provocative.

He hears the thunderous sound of the doors closing behind you, turning to look at you as if he’s about to melt under your gaze. A sly smile plays on your lips as you approach him slowly, without uttering a word. With each step you take toward him, he seems to lose his breath, anticipation palpable in the air. "Are you really here?" he whispers as you come to stand before him, his hand gripping the candle snuffer tightly.

You gaze at him from head to toe, using your powers to reignite all the candles once more. "The way you’re speaking, it sounds like you've been hallucinating about me, Father Mayhew," you say, bringing your face closer to his to murmur, "I prefer the flames lit, if you don't mind." Then, you gently take the candle snuffer from his trembling hands.

"I feared you’d never return, that I'd lost the chance to…" Father Mayhew begins, though he trails off, seeming entranced by your scent as he closes his eyes, breathing you in deeply. You toss the candle snuffer into a distant corner of the church, feeling the candlelight’s warmth casting a glow over your skin. "So much fear that you resorted to prayer to bring me closer?" you say, your words nearly brushing his lips. His eyes open, meeting yours, as if filled with something unsaid, struggling to form the words he dares not speak.

"I didn’t know who else to turn to, to have you near again. And talking to God is… well, what I do best, so I thought it was worth a try," Father Mayhew says, a trace of a seductive smile on his lips, unable to hide his excitement.

"Are you aware that your request was never heard by your God, but rather by a far lower realm? That's why I'm here." Your gaze remains serious as he processes this revelation, realization dawning in his eyes. His expression, rich with guilt and desire, compels you to place your hands on his face, your thumbs tracing the edges of his lips, soft against his skin. His eyes drift shut as he leans into your touch, surrendering to the moment.

"I feel as though, to see you again, I’d set this place ablaze until nothing but ashes remained, demon. I wasn’t joking when I said you were infecting me," Father Mayhew’s voice is low, gravelly, as though he desperately wants you to understand his sincerity. When he opens his eyes, it’s as if he’s allowing you to glimpse the turmoil inside him, a fragile resolve on the brink of surrender. You lean towards him, licking between his lips.

"Let me be your faith, your cure; I promise, Father, I’ll show you how serving a darker purpose can be… fulfilling," you murmur, brushing a brief, enticing kiss over his lips. His eyelids flutter weakly, as if each blink is his attempt to convince himself this is real. Suddenly, you feel his strong arm around your waist, drawing you close until you're pressed against him, his breath warm and heavy against your neck. The sweet scent of him fills your senses, leaving no doubt of his surrender as he pulls you into this forbidden embrace.

"Take me as yours, sinner. Possess me, demon. I've wanted to know what it is to belong to you since the moment you set foot in my church," Father Mayhew breathes, closing the distance between you with no hesitation. His lips find yours in a fervent kiss, his tongue tracing over yours as if to claim you entirely, the intensity of his need nearly overwhelming. It’s as if, in this moment, he truly believes you both could merge into one, the heat of it igniting between you in an almost unbearable way. You're almost impatient, you need to feel him. It seems for a moment that he understands this, as he He lifts you up with his arms, you leaning on his shoulders, wrapping your legs around his waist. His lips still against yours as he carries you to one of the church benches. He sits down, positioning you on his lap. His hands make their way inside your dress, and yes, he holds your ass firmly.

"Father, I have sinned. I believe there is a suitable punishment for me so that I may be forgiven." You speak in a sly way as if to provoke him, seeing Father Mayhew's eyes darker, with a slight air of perversion. He grabs your ass tightly, moaning close to your ear as your pussy rubs lightly under his cock. You pull his hand towards you, removing it from your ass, and licking two of his fingers. You taste Father Mayhew's fingers while keeping your gaze fixed on him. You then guide his fingers inside your pussy. As soon as his cold fingers enter you, you let out a moan, still holding his hand to go deeper into your pussy.

"Tell me what punishment you think is appropriate for a nefarious sinner like you. Show repentance and you will be forgiven,"Father Mayhew is sticking his fingers deep inside you, who were slowly losing your sanity. Sometimes you rolled over Father Mayhew's fingers hoping to feel him even deeper inside you. The speed at which his fingers were fucking you was supernatural, you could feel how hard Father Mayhew's cock was getting just from you bouncing under his fingers. His available hand was helping you with the movements, helping you arch your body more while holding your waist. Your hands at that moment were wrapped around his shoulders, almost grabbing his neck. At some point when his fingers entered faster, you almost let out a groan, pulling Father Mayhew's hair back, leaving his neck arched in front of you. You reached down to the exposed area of his neck and took hold of it, biting down hard as Father Mayhew continued to finger fuck you. He let out a low moan that sounded like he was enjoying the feeling of your teeth digging into his skin.

In an erotic way, he murmurs "You can taste my blood and satisfy all my desires, demon." It's like he's giving himself more and more to you, which makes you even more horny for him. Bobbing up and down on his fingers with an animalistic ferocity, you feel Father Mayhew's skin cut into your mouth as you sink your teeth into his neck. The sweet taste of his blood fills your mouth, at times like these, you wish you were a vampire and drank all the warm blood of your sweet Father Mayhew.

"Father Mayhew, if I could explain to you what it feels like to take you in this way, rest assured, all the demons would be lining up to taste it." You say pushing yourself even harder against Father Mayhew's fingers until he begins to gently massage your clit while fingering you. You find yourself moaning out countless curse words as you hold onto Father Mayhew until you cum all over his fingers. Your satisfaction is so great that you immediately capture his lips with yours in a breathtaking kiss. For a moment it seems like you're battling to see who can leave the other breathless. His tongue exploring every part of your mouth while his fingers are still buried in your pussy. The taste of his blood that was in your mouth becoming predominant, making the kiss even wilder. As soon as his lips leave yours, you feel a desperation for more. He removes his fingers from inside you and, keeping his gaze fixed on you, licks his fingers covered in your cum.

"You may be a demonic creature but you taste heavenly, demon." He murmurs close to your ear as he finishes tasting you. You hold his face in your hands and then give him a kiss, more calmly. You pull yourself out of his lap between kisses, heading towards the lit candles. Father Mayhew quickly removes his garment, throwing his clothes on the church floor. You slowly walk towards him with the candle in your hands, feeling the heat of it warming your hand. He is naked, with an erect cock.

"You know, Father Mayhew, one of the best parts about being involved with a demon is the countless ways you can explore new experiences," you whisper, settling into your Father Mayhew's lap. Since you came to church without panties, as soon as you sit on him, his cock enters your wet pussy, almost sliding inside it. You both moan from the delicious sensation of feeling each other.

"Let's see if you like this one..." You say, giving him a long kiss, feeling him completely surrendered to you. Holding the lit candle under his neck, as the candle melts, burning Father Mayhew's skin, you hear him let out a pained grunt. He lifts his face towards you, holding tightly onto your waist as he feels the pain. You're enjoying yourself, but as soon as the candle melts once more, you run your tongue over the parts of his body that the candle hurt. He shivers at the sensation of your tongue moving from his neck to his chest but seems relieved when the pain subsides.

"You will be the death of me, demon." Father Mayhew speaks and then kisses you aggressively, as if he is thirsty for your lips. He bites your lip as he kisses you, as if he wants to return the pain you caused him in such an erotic way. You then grind under his cock, making him throw his head back with the pleasure of feeling his cock entering your pussy even further. It's delicious to see him lost in lust, so you start to move up and down on his cock. He holds his arms around your waist as if he is holding you to him while you ride his cock almost madly. His moans make you almost overflow with pleasure as you ride his cock like you're riding a horse. Father Mayhew at one point removes his hands from your waist and tears your dress with his hands, right at the neckline. Your breasts are on display, which seems to be his goal. He puts his hands around your breasts, pinching the tips of your nipples. You let out a drawn-out moan as you feel his cock filling you and the delicious sensation of his hands stimulating your breasts. His lips begin to bite one of your breasts, sometimes biting the nipple, sometimes sucking. The feeling of his tongue on your skin is devilishly delicious, his soft lips delighting in your breasts, while he starts licking the other breast while stimulating the other with his fingers. The rhythm of your bouncing on his cock increases as you feel yourself coming again and you want to give Father Mayhew the same feeling. Your pussy is taking Father Mayhew's cock so well that it doesn't take long before you both cum, moaning loudly as his cum finally fills you. For a second you both stare at each other, breathless and surrendered to each other. He smirks as he stands up from the church pew, his cock still inside you, carrying you with him.

"Blow out the candles, demon," he whispers close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Using your powers, you blow out the candles, only for Father Mayhew to throw the candles along with other religious items that were under a table onto the floor.

"What are you doing, Father Mayhew?" you ask, genuinely wondering what he wants. He rests your ass on the table, using it as support to then put his cock in you, with more precision. He slowly thrusts his cock into your pussy while holding your legs so you don't fall. His nails scratching all the way from your feet to your thighs. You grip his hair tightly, pulling it back as Father Mayhew begins to pick up speed in his thrusts.

"I'm giving you reasons not to take so long to come back, memorable memories to keep you tied to me." He says, looking at you, while he thrusts his cock into your pussy without mercy. You then hold Father Mayhew's ass as you feel your orgasm come, feeling him fuck you so good. Father Mayhew's cock enters you deep in one swift motion and you cum, squeezing his ass hard. Your legs are already weak even though you are not human, your body behaves like a human body. Still, you wrap your legs around Father Mayhew's waist as if urging him to finish what he started. He captures your lips with his as he thrusts his cock into you two more times before cumming while still kissing you. Then he rests his head on your shoulder, clearly exhausted. And for a moment it's like you're between heaven and hell. He desecrating the sacred environment and breaking celibacy, you ignoring hell's orders to capture his soul.

[cillsworld]

Help me doctor Crane✧₊⁺

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Ship|Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary|you run into Jonathan out of fear and he takes advantage of the situation.

Word Count|1344

Warnings|smut(18+!), age gap!, oral(m!rec), deep throating, chocking, crying?, kidnapping, innocent! reader, dub-con?

Notes|soo this is my first like smut writing or fanfic ever, well it's a drabble but ykyk. I think it's okay but I don't love it, also had no idea how to end it so it's a bit random but yeah😭 hope u enjoy! masterlist

"Oh look at you, such a pretty little thing.." His raspy but quiet voice sighed out, itching a part of your brain in the most pleasant way, his presence fully intoxicating you; from the odd way he smelt or how he held your face, squeezing your cheeks between one hand while mocking you.

"practically ran into the belly of the beast and why? Because you were scared?" the condescendence was dripping from his tone as he chuckled dryly, finding it hilarious that after being sprayed by one of his goons you had run to his arms for comfort, and now you're stuck here in his little 'base'; whining behind the cloth he had hastily stuffed in your mouth, struggling against the restraints he had put on you while your brain was still hazy, somehow managing to bind you to a support beam.

"what am I gonna do with you hmm?" He continued in a bit of an agitated tone, his eyebrows furrowing as he stared you down, "I could just.. kill you?" he muttered out and your eyes naturally widened, the dangers of this situation setting in, specially when you saw the gleam in his eyes, a muffled whimper escaped you.

"but that would be such a waste..." He was almost talking to himself now in a barely audible tone, his eyes dropping to blatantly check you out.

You tried speaking from behind the gag, wanting to have a say in the matter of your own life and death; he rose an eyebrow in response, reaching up to untie it, seemingly interested in what you have to say for his own amusement.

"please don't kill me doctor Crane, please! I'll do anything!" Your pleas were met with a very bored looking 'doctor Crane', seemingly sick of the generic lines he'd heard one too many times, but they were definitely different coming from a youthful, attractive girl such as yourself and caused a certain tightness in his pants.

Your frantic pleas were interrupted by a hum of his smooth voice, "anything? You'd do anything?" he repeated in a strangely slow tone, though it was unsettling you rushed to nod in response, not letting the chance of surviving letting slip.

He scoffed lightly, glancing downward in thought before taking leisurely steps behind the pole you were tied to, undoing the messily done knots to release your sore wrists, "let's test that theory then.."

Of course you tried to make a run for it but a hand in your hair and arm over your neck were quick to pull you back, so quick in fact that you were sure he anticipated your attempted escape which made you feel dumb for even trying.

"You didn't think it'd be that easy right sweetheart?" he muttered in your ear, his voice had a eery edge to it now that made goosebumps rise all over your skin.

"You're choking me..." Your now raspy voice spoke as your eyes started to well up from the burn in your scalp, your hands reached up to try and pry his arm off your neck though he was much stronger than you so your efforts were to no avail

"oh am I?" He spoke in mock pity, tightening his arm around your neck making you yelp as you started to panic even more, "could've just played nice but you just had to go and be a smartass huh"

"I'm sorry.. Please stop I'm sorry" you whimpered out as tears dripped down your cheeks, landing on the sleeve of his coat that probably cost an unreasonable amount of money.

Your ears perked up as the sound of sniffing reached them, his hands left you hair and neck before turning you around to face him while you took in quick breaths to fill your parched lungs, "smell so sweet.."

He muttered more to himself than you while playing with a strand of your hair, blue eyes looking over your flushed, wet and sniffling face, "how old re'you sweetheart?" His oddly soothing voice questioned as he cupped your cheek with one hand, wiping a stray tear with his thumb.

"I'm- uhm, nineteen.." He sucked in a sharp breath at that, his pale cheeks flushing lightly, "then you know what I want don't you? What you'll have to do in order for me to free you.." He questioned lowly,

You had a vague idea of what he wanted, but hoped if you pretended not to know you'd be able to escape faster, "what do I have to do doctor Crane?" You questioned back with a tilt of your head.

"Don't play dumb sweetheart" he retorted with a scoff, finding amusement in your antics.

"I want you" you let out a little squeak of surprise feeling the force of his hands on your shoulders, pushing till you were sitting on your knees.

"To be on your knees and suck me off, is that clear enough for you?" He questioned with a mocking tilt of his head, squishing your cheeks between one hand as he did so, "y-yeah.." You responded quietly with a little nod.

Your shaky hands reached for his zipper, glancing up at him before pulling it down and unbuttoning his pants to reveal his covered bulge, you were about to pull his boxers down but paused, letting your fingers rest on the cotton hem.

"I've never.. done this before doctor Crane" you voiced your nerves quietly, chewing on your bottom lip as your cheeks flushed from embarrassment, his face softened slightly at your confession.

"I know.. I'll help you" he responded in a soothing tone, running a hand through your hair, he reached his other to pull down his black boxers to reveal his hard dick.

He took pleasure in the way you started at it in awe, "go on, touch it" he told you quietly, you tentatively brought your had and wrapped it around his base, looking up at him with wide eyes as he wrapped his hand around yours and guided it to stroke him.

"now wrap your lips around it and suck" he ordered impatiently, removing his hand from yours as you got the hang of it, you did as he asked and took his tip in your mouth, letting your tongue lick the beads of pre-cum off his slit, a groan escaping him that urged you on, getting bolder as you took him half way and hallowed your cheeks.

His hand tightened in your hair as he started thrusting in your mouth in sync with the way he was making your head go up and down on his dick, "there you go.." He muttered out, basking in the little whimpers escaping you as he went deeper and deeper.

As he started breaching your throat barrier your squirming grew and his pleasure increased at the tightness of your throat, he let you go for a moment to take a breath before pushing you all the way down till your nose was buried in his pubic hair, triggering your gag reflex as you tried to push yourself off, "calm down and take it, you've gotta work for your reward darling"

He muttered out as your eyes started watering, your whimpers and muffled mewls sending waves of pleasure straight to his brain and making his eyes roll back into his head, his hand tightening in your hair as he started rutting into your mouth, letting his body be controlled by the pleasure while panic induced you from the lack of air.

You felt his cock twitching in your mouth before he pulled out and let you fall back on your elbows, he aimed himself to come all over your face and exposed cleavage, most of it going in your mouth as you tried to breathe.

He tucked himself back in as you tried to collect yourself, he grabbed your face and collected most of his come on his finger and shoved it in your mouth, "swallow" he instructed simply and you did as he asked, cringing at the taste.

He removed his finger with a pop and straightened himself up, brushing a hand through his hair before looking down at you, "you should run into me more often sweetheart"

[neighbourshouse]

Let's talk.

Tara Lewis x Y/N

Summary: A slip up of words ends up being pretty ok :)

Warnings: Fluff. Like two kisses and an implication of the nasty but that's it.

Authors note: Oh wow. Funny seeing you here. Yada yada, life gets busy, I don't post for a while, but here we are. So...

Anyway. I'm a HUGE Criminal Minds fan and have been rewatching as usual but DAMN. Aisha Tyler is fine shyt. I want her. No, I'm crazy. Been searching for good fanfics, and it's so lacklustre I actually made my own. Let me know what ya think, is this something I should continue if I remember to write and post?

This is so short, but just shut up and be happy you're fed something.

______________________________________________________________

She placed a soft kiss to your lips, slowly moving down your jaw to your neck. Warmth radiating from her body, you fell into a blissed lull. She can be so intoxicating you just-

“God, I love you.” 

It slipped out in a moan. 

So accidental but true to how you’ve been feeling. The two of you hadn’t discussed this stage of your relationship, but you knew your admiration for Tara had gone beyond just a “like.” 

You froze at your own words. Tara stopped her motions, looking up at you.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to- it just happened…ughhhh” You covered your face with your hands. 

Silence. Then Tara giggled. 

Glimpsing through the cracks of your fingers you could see her soft smile. 

“Baby. Maybe it’s time we have a chat.”

Heart thumping through your chest, you fear this is the end of something so good. Tara gently took your hands away from your face, revealing tear-brimmed eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Awwww bubs don’t cry. Please? Come on, let’s talk.”

Shifting from between your legs to sitting next to you, Tara held your hands in her own. She fiddled with your rings, gathering her thoughts before she spoke. 

“Y/n, I love you too… and way more than you know and I want that to change. I want you to know.”

Wiping your eyes you sit up to look at her better.

“I wish we talked about this sooner cause I think we both know how we feel is mutual-“

“How did you know that you loved me?” Your words came out in a whisper.

Tara blinked at the suddenness of your words, leaning against the headboard of the bed. 

“I was at work sitting at my desk, chatting with Emily…and you texted me. I guess my face says more than words sometimes and Emily asked if it was you.” A small smile began to form on her lips.

“I remember I nodded. And Emily said the funniest thing… ’The team’s noticed a difference in you. A good one….When can we meet her?’ Knowing they already loved you confirmed what I had felt for a while. I decided I wanted to love you forever.”

You crawled onto Tara’s lap, straddling her. Hands cupping her cheeks you placed the softest, feather-light kiss on her lips. 

“When did you get the first inkling you loved me though?”

“You with the questions hey-“ Tara giggled, making a smile spread across your face.

“It was our 5th date-“

“That was like a month into our relationship.”

“-I know, girl let me finish my story.”

You both laughed.

“We had just finished eating at that sushi place and you unbuttoned your pants.”

“That’s it? That’s when you got the first idea?” You couldn’t contain your laughter at how ridiculous that sounded.

“Well…I like a girl that can eat and you unbuttoning your pants was just the cherry on top.”

“Jeeeeeeezzzzz” you rolled your eyes.

“Ok, now how about you? When did you first realize you loved me?”

“Gosh, how cheesy are we? Um… I guess it was…I guess it was when you first introduced me to your team. You just glowed from happiness, and your pretty smile reached your ears.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. That or- actually… when you first kissed me. Yeah. That was when I first realized I love you. You introducing me to the team was when I first realized I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

A quiet fell over the room. All you could do was gaze at each other.

“You want to spend the rest of your life with me?” Tara’s voice broke the hush.

“I mean…yeah. I couldn’t imagine not being with you. I’m happiest with you. Every time you’re gone on a case, all I can think about is when you get back and how happy I’ll be. Also, we are always together and I basically live with you.”

Tara ran her hands gently up and down your thighs. You glanced at the clock on the bedside table: 11:30 p.m. As you said, you basically lived with Tara- but unfortunately, you still had to go home sometimes.

Your hands fell to hers, picking them up and kissing the back of each.  

“I guess I should get-“

“Y/n I want you to move in with me.” 

“Oh- ok…are you sure?”

“Yes, I’ve never been more sure. I want to share my space with you. And have you in my bed every night.” She smirked.

“Well how could I deny that…you did say you liked a girl who can eat.”

Tara playfully smacked the side of your arm and rolled her eyes.

“Oh hush you. I just mean…I want to have that normal everyday life with you. Where I make you coffee in the morning before work and collect mail with your name on it. All that domestic shit ya know, like JJ and Will or Matt and Kristy.”

You flopped down onto the bed next to Tara, lying on your side to look into her big, beautiful brown eyes.

“…make me coffee every morning, hey?”

“Yeah.” Gosh, she could make you fold so easily.

“We could be like those guys. But no kids.” you bit your lip, smirking at the thought of waking up to her every day.

“Yeah, no kids. You and I are aunties.”

“Exactly.”

“So?…” Tara eyed you.

“Well obviously yes! We just confessed our love to each other and you think I would say no to you proposing that I get to sleep in your-or should I say our- bed every night next to you? It’s gonna be like having a sleepover everydayyyyyyyy!!!”

Tara laughed at you and your excitement.

“Yeah, every day is a sleepover.”

[glubsurleseuil]

Don't be scared - Chapter 3

A Pennywise X F!Reader fanfic. Previous - Next - First

This chapter is horrible and I'm sorry.

Chapter warning: Slight violence.

(Note: It was translated by Deepl, English is not my mother tongue, so I apologise for any mistakes. If you want to correct me, don't hesitate!)

(Note 2: I don't know where I found this gif anymore, sorry.)

The house you're in is old. Not just because it seems to be crumbling into dust, nor because it's mostly home to spiders and rats today. The structure is old, probably Victorian with Gothic touches here and there. The fact is, you've had time to visit it several times, the clown not having visited you since your altercation. That was several hours ago now, maybe even a whole day has passed, impossible to say without any landmarks.

During your time in this creaky house, you've noticed several things. Firstly, there's no way to get out, or even to see the outside - all the windows are far too filthy, no matter which room.

Next, most of the rooms are normal, if you forget the general decrepitude, and there's only one you want to avoid at all costs: the room with the clown dolls. You've been there once, but you don't intend to do it again.

Then, even if it seems completely unthinkable, the house has running water. Cold, admittedly, and the pressure leaves something to be desired, but you were able to relieve yourself in the toilet without too much trouble. You even took the risk of drinking it, and so far, so good.

Finally, you've found a well in the cellar. An old, half-collapsed stone well with a pestilential smell. You've thought about getting going down it, eventually, if you really have no other choice and if at least it's possible…

After a while, you really got the feeling you were going round in circles, bored even. Hunger began to make itself felt, and you were able to more or less calm it with water. You also wanted to take care of your wounds, especially the one on the back of your head, but you concluded that it wasn't a big deal, so as not to admit that it healed on its own…

You've found a bookcase next to the fireplace, but the books it contains are strange… The only one in English is 'House of leaves', a book you tried to read once and it made you lose your head. You didn't want to repeat the experience.

After a while, as you sit idly on the sofa, sleep catches up with you and you fall asleep in spite of yourself. You've had that dream again, and this time you're able to recall it with unnerving accuracy: You're in the forest, getting closer to the big oak tree, it's daytime but Derry and the surrounding area are engulfed in thick gray smoke, like the remains of an old fire. It's hard to breathe and your eyes are undeniably watering. In this sad, gray landscape, you catch a glimpse of color: a red balloon. You rush to grab the string and it carries you upwards. When you finally break through the cloud of intoxicating smoke stuck to Derry, you see the lights and colors of the sky, dazzling you with a magnificence you simply can't describe.

You wake up at this point, wondering what the clown - for you no longer doubt, he's the one responsible for these dreams - is trying to convey to you. Maybe he's trying to reassure you, so you won't be afraid anymore? That would be consistent with his requests. Or maybe he knows about your paralyzing fear of heights and you always wake up before he drops you and you crash like a bird poop in the dusty Derry of your dream.

In any case, at least you feel rested, despite your situation and…

One second. You don't remember covering yourself up before falling asleep. Where did that blanket come from…?

For a moment, you hold your breath, attentive to the slightest noise in the house. But apart from a few creaks from the old wood it's made of, you hear nothing that would suggest anyone's there. Suddenly, a scent tickles your nostrils. It's not a musty smell or old dust, no. Quite the opposite, in fact. Your stomach growls, encouraging you to follow the scent and forget about being careful.

In the kitchen, on the table in the center of the room, you find the culprit of that delicious smell: a children's menu from McDonald's. You resist the urge to throw yourself on it. You move closer, checking every corner of the room to make sure no one's there. Then you stare at the menu box. Red and yellow, just like you remember. Is this for you? You don't hesitate long; you don't have to answer to that damn clown.

The smell becomes more intense as you open the box, and your stomach gurgles again. You grab the first thing that comes along, the French fries, and devour them without manners. Then you slow down for the hamburger, savoring it a little more until you're halfway through, when your eyes land on the toy still in the box. You pick it up with an unsure hand, bringing it closer to make sure it's not a dream. It's a Ronald Clown figurine, or so you first thought. But no, it's the clown, your clown (your clown?). What did he say his name was again? Pennywise? Yes, it's a figurine of him in Ronald's clothes, about the size of your palm, with a sign between his hands that reads…. You guessed it…

DON'T BE SCARED

Your eyebrows furrow in a mixture of puzzlement and exasperation as you watch every detail of the toy between your fingers, as if expecting to see it move. After a while, when you realize that it's indeed plastic, you toss it across the room with annoyance and it bangs loudly against the door of the old, worn fridge.

You bite into your hamburger once more, then a slow grinding noise makes you stop in your tracks. You turn slowly towards the fridge and your eyes widen in terror at the sight before them: the clown, Pennywise, his body curled up and twisted in a way impossible even for a contortionist, is wedged into the fridge, looking at you with his head upside down. You move backwards at an extremely slow speed, your body paralyzed by a kind of terror mixed with fascination, as he emerges from the fridge, turning his limbs at impossible angles to get back upright. When he's done, smiling and leaning slightly forward as if waiting for your reaction. In fact, you hesitate between running away and applauding.

When you don't react, the clown's smile turns into a disappointed pout and he straightens up. Then his eyes alternate between you and the toy at his feet, as annoyance twists his features dramatically and he picks it up with a theatrical gesture to place it on the table.

"This is a gift." He says to you in a deeply offended tone.

You're not sure how to react and it takes you several seconds to reply.

"Sorry, I'm not a child anymore."

Your words only darken his gaze, which changes from a sulky expression to real anger. He takes a heavy step towards you and you drop your burger, really backing away this time. You find yourself trapped in a corner of the room, with nothing to defend yourself, and your anguish mounts as his face contorts into an inhuman grimace.

"Stop. Being. SCARED!"

Pennywise jumps on you, slamming your arm against a wall and grabbing your chin before sniffing loudly. You see his eyes roll back and his teeth become as thin as toothpicks as he opens his mouth, drool dripping from his lips.

You scream and push him away as best you can with your free arm and legs, but there's nowhere to run. You watch him shake his head and speak sharp words you don't understand. As he turns to face you once more, the clown has regained a more normal appearance and is contorting himself as if to restrain himself from attacking you again. He swallows doubtfully before speaking.

"If you continue to offer me such irresistible fear… I'll have to eat you."

In your brain, a light goes on. You tilt your head to the side as you look at him, silently repeating your question to yourself several times before asking it aloud.

"You mean… it's my fear that makes you want to eat me?"

An incredulous smile lights up Pennywise's face and he starts clapping, hopping and giggling like a real clown.

"Oh oh oh! Well done! You've finally figured it out, clever girl! You've earned my toy!"

He's clearly making fun of you and, even if it annoys you, it has the merit of calming your fear. You cross your arms in annoyance, waiting for him to finish his act, which he eventually does.

"Now… Now you can help me." His eyes light up like a child's at Christmas.

"Help you?"

"Yes, that's why I'm keeping you alive, after all. You see, for ages I've been playing with humans, haunting their dreams, their nightmares, terrorizing them with their greatest fears and then devouring them."

He pauses, clearly enjoying the fearful look you're giving him.

"It was fun, yes. A lot of fun. Until those filthy… Losers got in the way. That they spoiled Pennywise's fun and forced me to hibernate early and…"

The clown's eyes grow distant, empty, and you get the impression that it's costing him to finish his sentence.

"…they killed me. Just when Pennywise had missed them so much… and we still had a lot of games to play…"

He turns his head sharply towards you, annoyed again.

"But it doesn't matter because now Pennywise doesn't need them anymore. Pennywise found you and you're going to help me understand what they did to me. To understand what's changed and why playing with human fears isn't fun anymore."

His words are totally confusing for you and you haven't understood how you could be useful, but you understand that it's a subject that affects him and he seems very angry, so you prefer not to say anything for the moment. At your lack of reaction, the clown approaches you again, more slowly.

"I won't hurt you if you help me. And if you're not scared…*

You hesitate, but do you really have a choice? Even though you don't really know what you're accepting, you finally nod. He seems happy with it, because he smiles at you and you notice that his sharp teeth have disappeared, that they now resemble rabbit teeth.

"Excellent! I'll come back later. You can occupy yourself by playing with the toy." He says before leaving the room towards the staircase that leads to the cellar where the well is.

Silence returns and you're still stuck in a corner of the kitchen, processing what's just happened. You conclude that you need to find a way out quickly, or risk spending the rest of your life helping a demon clown figure out who-knows-what, and spending your free time playing with Happy Meal toys featuring him.

[strongheartneteyam]

Realize where you belong.

Pairing: neteyam sully x female!human!reader/female!dreamwalker!reader

Chapter 7

CW: a good amount of angst, reader finally is letting neteyam in and realizing how she does truly love him too, physical contact, neteyam suffering while holding back from mating w/ reader, mentions of sex, yearning, sexual language, reader and neteyam acting like a cute couple, playful flirting, reader is more vulnerable with neteyam, a lot of fluff, reader feels guilty about the way she's been treating neteyam. Tell me if I'm missing something important!

Sorry for taking long to update, my angels 🥺🤍 unfortunately I'm going through a tough path in my personal life rn and bc of that I fell on a horrible depressive episode that I'm still on. So, my motivation to do stuff is very low at the moment and as I have to deal with my adult responsibilities that I can't run from bc nobody can, rn the best I'm able to do is focus the tiny bit of energy I have onto getting them done. I won't be able to update my fanfics as fast as I used to for some time. Can't say how long, it's not under my control currently, sorry :( But I LOVE writing, it's a great escape for me, from life problems and stuff, so, I really do not plan on stop writing fanfiction. I promise! Don't worry too much. Some of the upcoming chapters of this fanfiction, for example, are already saved on my Google Docs. I'll take longer but I won't stop updating. Anyway, I'm a tiny bit (ok maybe much more than that lol) insecure about this chapter but I hope y'all like it. Seeing your comments about the fic would make me incredibly happy. I'm needing some serotonin right now 🥲 Thanks for reading my writings ♡

Not proofread. Sorry if some parts are a bit messed up. I'll proofread it as soon as I can <3

Chapter 6

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You gave me roses and I left them there to die

So this is me swallowin' my pride

Standin' in front of you sayin' I'm sorry for that night

(...)

It turns out freedom ain't nothin' but missin' you

Back to December (Taylor Swift)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You inclined yourself slowly and sheepishly in Neteyam's direction, still feeling guilty for the way you had been treating him before. Neteyam sensed your self doubt and quickly swept you off your feet, taking you inside his arms, so he could finally get the hug he had been dying for, so he could finally feel your small body against his bigger one. His big hands were now under your thighs, securing you in place against his warm body. That closeness, his touch… it all felt incredibly good. You cursed yourself for pushing him away and postponing that moment. To think you could have felt that before and you didn't… "Stupid girl" you thought.

You were now really far from the ground but you felt safe. Now you knew Neteyam would always protect you. He would not let you fall and get hurt. He was not and had never been a threat to you. There was not and there never was any reason for you to be afraid of him.

"Oeyä yawne…" (my beloved) "You feel so soft and tiny… Eywa… Nga yawne lu oer" (I love you) His voice was choked with emotion as he held back tears of joy while he hugged you as tight as he was able to - without hurting you - and you rested your head upon his shoulder. Your nose was hovering over his neck and you sniffed his skin, smelling his natural, cozy scent. It was intoxicating, drawing you in, making you wanna stay like that forever. 

You breathed in deep and relaxed inside his huge arms that held you for the first time but still strangely felt like home, like you had felt them around you a thousand times already. If you believed in past lives - which you didn't - you'd explain this odd but amazing feeling as you having found your soulmate again, in this current life. There was no fear of Neteyam inside of you anymore. You only yearned for more and more of him, only a burning affection kept your whole being warm, just like his massive body did too.

"There's still something I need to ask of you, if this is gonna work out between us." You said, breaking the hug for a while to look him in the eye

"Say it, yawne."

Neteyam was still so utterly happy that he did not even seem to be shaken by that, which he could have been

"You know why I pushed you away. First of all, finding out an alien double your size has been stalking you is freaking unnerving." You still gazed into his eyes, wanting him to pay attention to your words "Second, you acted like a creep. At least compared to the way human guys act around girls they're interested in. I don't really have any experience dating na'vi boys, you know?" You choked a little as you were trying hard to hold back laughter

"Ouch…" Neteyam playfully pretended to be extremely hurt by your previous statements. He chuckled "In my defense, I'd say my instincts are to blame, not me, exactly." You gave him a death stare, but in a playful manner too "When I saw you, I knew you would be the perfect mate for me and I had to make you mine. Everything about you rubbed me just the right way."

You smiled. He was being silly and so sweet. You just could not resist it.

"By the way, when did you see me for the first time?" 

Neteyam seemed to get shy after that question. You wondered why.

"I fell in love with you while you were in your Avatar body, yawntu. That's when I first saw you." Neteyam looked up at you again, smiling but showing no teeth

"You what?" You questioned him, a bit shocked but you could not bring yourself to be mad at him, though. Imagining him hiding behind trees and up in branches to watch you silently seemed adorable in your eyes, now. 

And yes, you knew it sounded crazy, to find someone who used to literally stalk you adorable, but nobody said that anything that was happening to you right now made any sense. Not even you would try to.

"How did I never notice you were around?" You shook your head in disapproval of your distraction back in the forest.

What if it had been a na'vi who did not trust you a single bit to even let you Dreamwalk freely, without grabbing you by the arm and taking you to the Olo'eyktan and the Tsahìk? Some na'vi hated humans to that point. And, as you always said and always would say, you had a great empathy towards them and could imagine yourself feeling the same way if you were na'vi. You could never bring yourself to judge them as harshly as way too many humans did. You knew they were not the villains of the story. But still, what if that na'vi tried to hurt you? You felt tense at the thought.

Neteyam noticed your uneasiness and tried to calm you.

"Don't worry, yawne. I'm a great warrior. A big part of being a good warrior is being really focused on one's mission and knowing how to get by as unnoticed as possible. So many other humans in their Avatars and even many, many na'vi wouldn't notice me, either."

Neteyam still wanted to call those other humans "demons in false bodies" but he was not going to. He knew it would hurt you and make you feel like he was talking about you too. But he was not. Whenever he had called you "demon", it never meant the same thing as it would mean if he was talking about any other human. But he knew it would be hard for you to understand. So he promised himself that he would never call you "demon" again. After that eclipse night when the both of you were talking in front of your bedroom window, he realized how much it hurt you when he called you that. He hated himself for bringing you pain. And his heart hurt so badly when he thought about the possibility of you pushing him away again. It made him want to hold onto your small, frail body tightly and say "Please, don't leave me! I can't be without you again… Please…"

"If you say so… I still think I should've been more careful, though." You say, still feeling a little nervous and thinking that maybe you had not been the best student when attending to your classes about na'vi behavior and that maybe you didn't pay enough attention to warnings they may have given about being mindful of your surroundings when Dreamwalking 

"I promise it's okay. It was not your fault, yawntu. I'm just good at what I do." His smile clearly showed he was proud of being a good warrior

"Ok, then." You smiled back at him and the both of you laughed a bit.

Suddenly, he stopped smiling and his gaze dropped to your lips, that were not that far from his own lips, if it wasn't for that damn oxygen mask. You felt like he wanted to kiss you. The moment was awkward but in a good way. He could not kiss you with the mask on, so, instead, he smiled at you once again and looked down at the floor, bashful.

You touched his huge, gorgeous face and he looked up at you again "So, about what we were talking about before… Just try to be a little less… upfront about what you feel for me. I mean… sexually. I love that you want me this much because I want you too, Neteyam. A lot, actually. You're… really freaking hot." He smiled, blissful, and his cat-like eyes sparkled as he heard that, his ears perking up. "But you're a bit too much, at times. If you could just tone it down a bit…" Neteyam looked a little ashamed and insecure, so, you rubbed your thumb on his soft skin, to reassure him you still longed for him too "At least while I get used to your na'vi nature, it would be great. Please, try to understand me… It's a whole new world I'm just now discovering. But it doesn't mean I don't love you and don't want you and it doesn't mean you should feel insecure." You smiled gently, showing no teeth. 

Neteyam looked a bit sad again after you finished your sentence and you totally understood why. In his na'vi mind, you were practically rejecting him. That was who he truly was, animalistic and a bit too much to your human standards. He must feel like who he is was not enough or good in your eyes.

"Hey" You cupped his face again "I wanna do something. Just let me take this mask off, first." You wanted to reassure Neteyam of your feelings for him by giving him a kiss.

"Yawne, no! You can't breathe without it. You could die really fast! I'm not gonna let you do it."

"So you don't want a kiss, Neteyam Suli? I thought you'd want it, judging by the way you have been stalking me and by our interaction that night, outside my bedroom's window." You teased him and his face lit up

Neteyam gave you an excited smile. The way his full lips curled up as he quickly pondered about the pros and cons of your offer was so beautiful, almost hypnotizing.

God, you really were in love with that na'vi boy, weren't you? There's no going back now. He's holding your heart in his big, weird but cute, alien hands.

"I guess if we make it quick-"

"Shut up, Neteyam." You interrupted, chuckling playfully "I know you're dying to feel my lips on yours. Just help me take this mask off already." It was a bit hard for you to take the mask off while holding onto his shoulders. You knew he would not let you fall but still you wanted to still feel a bit of control and keep holding onto him too.

Neteyam got surprised by your boldness, since he did not see it coming, and he could only think about how freaking amazing it would feel to finally taste your lips, so, he did as you asked - leaving the mask hanging on your neck by the strap it had - and you rapidly held his big pretty, blue face, brought your lips to his and placed the most tender of kisses there, pressing your mouth against his mouth softly but with so much care, trying to let him feel how much you desired him too. His lips were velvety, warm and so incredibly good to kiss. God, you did not care that you were risking dying from lack of oxygen. You wanted that alien boy so badly.

Neteyam's still tense demeanor soon turned into a calmer one as he kissed you back. His hold on you got tighter as he felt your sweet soft lips on his. He felt so incredibly hungry for you. How could he not be? Your kiss was the most delicious thing he had ever felt in his whole life. You both shared saliva and wet each other's lips with each time your lips parted only slightly and came together again. Your soft skin made him want to squeeze you and never let you go again. Neteyam wanted to cuddle with you, wanted to wrap his tail around your small body in a possessive way to let you know you're his and that he would take care of you, hunt food to feed you and protect you from anything that could ever hurt you.

It was getting harder and harder for him not to lay you on the ground and press his body against your tiny one and make love to you right there but he knew that, thinking rationally, that was not a good idea at all, as the both of you were just outside a laboratory full of humans and you two could easily get caught and be in danger.

Even though Neteyam craved your body insanely, now even more than before, as he was finally feeling you close and tasting your lips, he was trying to take it as slow and gentle as he could because he wanted to respect your limits instead of scaring you away again. He understood you were human and your race acted in a very different way when it came to relationships. He still thought it to be a dumb way to lead things but it was you who was asking him to act differently and he loved you with his whole being. He could not bring himself to say "no" to that request. He knew it would be temporary and you soon would give into the na'vi that lives inside of you when it came to mating too. For you, Neteyam could wait. He knew things would soon change for the better. You were now in his arms, as the two of you kissed. You were no longer afraid of him. That was everything he needed at that moment. Things were already so much better.

Neteyam noticed you were having more and more trouble breathing, so he got worried and quickly put your oxygen mask back on.

You gasped for air and breathed in so much oxygen once you had your mask on that it might have been funny to watch, though Neteyam did not laugh. On the contrary, he seemed way too serious, way too worried about your safety. You wanted him to relax a bit.

"See how much I love you? I risked dying just to give you a kiss." You tried to speak normally but what came out of your mouth was a hoarse whisper instead, as your lungs were still in need of more air. A weak smile was adorning your lips as you struggled but still managed to let out a frail chuckle

"Don't say that, oeyä tawtute, please." Neteyam told you, trying to stay serious but still letting out a chuckle as well

"See the sacrifices I make for you, Neteyam?" You tried to seem mad at him at the beginning, only to start laughing shortly after, now that you finally had enough oxygen in your system to be able to let out an actual laugh, even if it still sounded weaker than your laughing would sound in another situation

He smiled big and teased you "Skxawng." (moron)

"But you love me." You closed your eyes while smiling, full of yourself

"I do." You opened your eyes to look at his face "More than you think, yawntu."

Your heartbeat accelerated intensely and you blushed. Neteyam found your blushed cheeks adorable. He looked at you so intensely, like he was holding the most precious thing in the world in his arms.

Neteyam knew he had just fallen even harder for you now that you both had kissed. He could not wait until he could be alone with you in a safe place and get to explore your body with his hands and kiss you all over. He almost got hard just thinking about that but he tried his hardest to whoosh that away. Neteyam was scared that feeling his bulge would be too much for you at that moment, specially since he knew he was much bigger than the human males you were used to. You might feel uncomfortable because of that difference and the sudden intimate feeling of his hard big cock against you and want to get out of his arms. Neteyam did not want that to happen. He needed you there a bit more, he was not ready to let you stand on your feet yet. And he was so afraid of you not wanting him close anymore, he was so afraid of perhaps ruining what you both had now. It was far too special for him. He could not let his sexual instincts ruin that. The time would come when you would let him in completely, when you would grant him permission to be inside of you and show you how much he craved your pussy, how much you messed with his head and awakened his most intense desires. Until then, he would wait and take baby steps. For you, he was capable of waiting for ages, though he hoped so strongly it would not take long.

༊⁀➷

Taglist:

@kitsunefirewail

@tumblingdevils

@a-blog-name-2003

@xylobee

@nerdybouquetofkittens-blog

@henhouse-horrors

@lala-1516

@xylianasblog

@samistars

@crazy4books1

@explosiongamora

@lik0

@your-girl-mj

@darktyrantwinner

@sereisstuff

@yeosxxx

@die4niyahhh

@iman-lu

@manumanulau

@im-in-a-pansexual-panik

@hana-yuri

@thehoneymushroomhealer

@melllinaa

@annaibansworld

@siriuslysmoking

@avatar4eva

@ellabellabus07

@badbishsblog

@neteyamsmate4life

@c-h-i-l

@criticallybella

@celi-xxmoon

[miharuki]

Yandere Dark Link with Shadow Zelda like S/O however the Shadow S/O can change appearance such as hiding from him and sometimes taunting him.

your wish is an order! But again remembering, sorry for my bad English, and I'm trying to get something more real and more horror :P

(problematic obsession, blood (if you squint), madness, I tried to do as much as I remembered from Legend of Zelda)

𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝕷𝖎𝖓𝖐 𝖂𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝔖/𝔒 𝕷𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝕾𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖜 𝖅𝖊𝖑𝖉𝖆 𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝖂𝖍𝖔 𝕮𝖆𝖓 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊 𝕾𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖊

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂 (𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡)

Headcanon and Fanfic (in a more realistic way)

"I believe that Dark Link would have a greater interest in their significant other if they could shapeshift; their obsession would be intensified. Furthermore, I believe that now Dark Link would be more cautious with their significant other, always keeping an eye on them 24/7 to avoid being deceived. Additionally, I think Dark Link would use their significant other's shapeshifting abilities for themselves (cough, perhaps to confuse the original Link)."

Dark Link, a distorted reflection of Link's inner darkness, has always been drawn to the enigmatic Shadow S/O. This mysterious figure, resembling Zelda but with the ability to change appearance at will, was a constant source of fascination and obsession for him.

The ever-changing appearance of the S/O was both a blessing and a curse for Dark Link. It kept him on edge, always searching for the true form behind the shadows. At times, they would appear as a hauntingly beautiful vision of his ideal partner, seducing him with their charm and grace. Other times, they would transform into grotesque and terrifying forms, causing his heart to race with a mixture of fear and despair.

Dark Link's obsession grew with each encounter, his love becoming more distorted and maddening. He scoured the dark corners of Hyrule, desperate to find his indescribable S/O. He would face monsters and solve puzzles, all in the hope of capturing their hearts and preventing them from escaping once again.

If S/O attempted to escape using their powers, I believe Dark Link would become even more intense in this situation, likely marking some part of their S/O with a hot iron branded with his initials (those of a cow and with magic to last longer). This way, if they changed their form, Dark Link would know who his S/O was and to whom they belonged. Dark Link's obsession had blinded him to the danger of this twisted romance. He was willing to do anything to keep Shadow S/O by his side, even if it meant resorting to darker and more violent methods.

Dark Link was consumed by jealousy and despair. His desire to keep S/O by his side had turned into an insatiable hunger. He would leave dark gifts in hidden corners of their world, signs of his affection and devotion, but S/O always seemed to elude him.

Dark Link's obsession had reached a detrimental level to his health. He could feel the seductive presence of his beloved Shadow S/O, but he never knew when or how she would manifest. It was a tantalizing dance of love and madness from which he couldn't escape.

One night, as the moon cast mysterious shadows on the forest floor, Dark Link heard the gentle melody of a song. It was an eerie tune that touched his heart, and he followed the sound to a clearing. There, bathed in moonlight, was his beloved in the form of a radiant Kokiri girl.

"Ah, my dear," Dark Link whispered, his red eyes fixed on her. "You've finally come to me."

Shadow S/O smiled shyly, her form shifting slightly. "Maybe, but can you catch me?" she teased, disappearing into the shadows.

Dark Link's heart raced as he pursued her, the thrill of the chase intensifying his obsession. The forest seemed to conspire against him, with branches reaching out to slow his progress and twisted roots causing him to stumble. He could hear her laughter echoing through the trees, maddening and intoxicating.

Finally, he cornered her in a moonlit clearing. She appeared as a captivating Gerudo woman, her eyes filled with fear and desire. "You've won," she said breathlessly. "I surrender to your love." Dark Link, consumed by his passion, embraced her tightly, swearing eternal devotion. He pressed his lips to hers…

(I was in class when I wrote this, sorry if it's bad XD)

[jglaltacct]

Dark Currents (Intoxicating Fear Fanfic)

IV: Run Soon

@chaotic-orphan

Kit’s mind was a whirlwind of confusion, dread knotting in his stomach. Ambrose’s cryptic words echoed in his skull—shadows. What kind of shadows could possibly hurt someone? His pulse hammered, each beat a countdown that screamed at him to move. To escape.

Ambrose wasn’t a man who could sit still for long, and Kit knew that. He wasn’t the type to wait patiently by the window forever. Sure enough, Ambrose moved, his presence filling every inch of Kit’s small apartment. He paced across the worn floorboards with slow, deliberate steps, his eyes flicking over the cluttered bookshelves, the chipped counter, the blank ceiling. There was an energy about him—sharp, restless, like a blade barely restrained.

Kit’s apartment was a mess of familiarity, but now it felt foreign. The air was thick, heavy with the remnants of Ambrose’s words, and his perfume. The walls seemed to close in around Kit. The once comforting clutter—the stack of books by the couch, the faded photograph of Kit and the other heroes pinned on the fridge—felt like they were part of someone else’s life. His heart raced, every breath shallow, as if the apartment itself was pressing in on him, waiting for something to happen.

Ambrose paused by the kitchen, his fingers brushing over the surface of the counter. He picked up a chipped coffee cup from the sink, turning it idly in his hands. "You’re afraid," Ambrose said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence like a whip. His gaze flicked to Kit, sharp and knowing. "I can feel it."

Kit’s throat tightened, his pulse spiking. "Who wouldn’t be afraid?" he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You show up spouting crap about shadows and—"

"They’re not just shadows, Kit." Ambrose’s voice was low. He set the cup down, the soft clink of porcelain against the counter making Kit flinch. "They’re something else, I don’t know what, but they’re bad and they’re coming."

Kit stood abruptly, his legs shaky beneath him, the bed creaking loudly as he shifted his weight. He couldn’t stay here, not with Ambrose prowling around his apartment like a predator waiting to strike. He needed air. He needed to think.

Ambrose’s eyes followed him, tracking every movement, but Kit ignored the burning sensation of being watched. He moved toward the kitchen, gripping the edge of the counter as if it could ground him. His gaze shot to the door—his door. The escape route. If he could just make it out…

"You can’t outrun them, Kit." Ambrose’s voice followed him, soft and warning.

Kit’s pulse quickened. His eyes darted to the door again. Ambrose was still in the kitchen, pouring himself a drink from the bottle of whiskey Kit kept for rare occasions. The liquid sloshed into the glass, the sound somehow louder than it should have been in the quiet apartment. Ambrose was distracted, at least for the moment.

Now.

Kit moved silently, slipping toward the door. He’d lived here for years—he knew which floorboards creaked and which didn’t. His fingers curled around the doorknob, turning it slowly, carefully. The soft click of the latch felt like a gunshot in the tense silence. He froze, waiting, expecting Ambrose to react—to grab him, to stop him. But nothing.

His breath caught in his throat as he eased the door open, slipping into the hallway. The door closed behind him with a quiet snick, and Kit exhaled shakily, his heart hammering against his ribs. The dim light overhead flickered, casting long, distorted shadows on the cracked walls. The air out here was cooler, but it did nothing to ease the panic clawing at Kit’s chest.

He moved swiftly but cautiously, his footsteps nearly silent against the worn floor. The stairwell loomed ahead, spiralling down into darkness. Kit’s breath hitched. The shadows down there seemed different—thicker, like they were waiting for him. Watching.

Kit shook his head, trying to push the thought away. Focus. Just get out.

He gripped the cool metal railing, his skin prickling with unease as he descended the first step. The shadows at the bottom of the stairs seemed to shift—just a flicker, a ripple in the dark. Kit froze, his breath catching in his throat. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, a cold sweat breaking out along his spine.

At the bottom of the stairs, something moved.

It was subtle, barely more than a shift in the darkness, but it was there. A shape. Tall. Broad. Wrong. The shadows around it seemed to writhe, curling and twisting like smoke in water, unnatural and grotesque. Kit’s blood ran cold. His legs locked in place, every instinct in his body screaming at him to run, but he couldn’t move. He was frozen, paralysed by the sheer wrongness of what stood below.

The figure didn’t move, but Kit could feel it watching him. Its gaze was like ice, a cold, unblinking force that bored into his very soul. The shadows rippled again, and a tendril of darkness reached for him, curling like a finger beckoning him closer.

Kit’s breath came in short, panicked bursts, his heart pounding in his ears. Run. His mind screamed at him, but his legs refused to obey. He was rooted to the spot, the cold tendrils of fear creeping up his spine, suffocating him.

Then, a hand gripped his arm, yanking him back with such force that he nearly lost his footing.

"What the fuck, Kit."

Ambrose’s breath hitched, a small indicator that only confirmed his fears, vibrating through Kit's bones. Ambrose's grip was bruising, his fingers digging into Kit’s arm as he dragged him back up the stairs. Kit stumbled, his mind reeling from what he’d just seen—what he’d almost walked into. The thing. The shadows. They were real. They were here.

Ambrose didn’t say another word as he shoved Kit back into the apartment, slamming the door behind them with a force that rattled the frame. Kit collapsed onto the bed, his chest heaving, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His skin was clammy, his entire body trembling uncontrollably.

"You really thought you could just walk out of here?" Ambrose’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and bitter. He stood by the door, his eyes burning with anger—and something else. Fear, Kit realised, by the way his jaw tightened. "You think you can outrun them?"

Kit’s mind was a mess, his thoughts fragmented, disjointed. "I-I didn’t know," he stammered, his voice hoarse. "I didn’t—"

"You didn’t listen." Ambrose’s voice was cold, his words slicing through Kit’s panic like a blade. "I told you. I warned you. But you didn’t listen."

Kit’s hands shook as he tried to steady his breathing. "What… what the hell was that thing?" His voice was barely a whisper, terror clinging to every syllable.

Ambrose’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. "That," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "was one of them. One of the things that’s been hunting you."

Kit’s stomach twisted, nausea rising in his throat. "But… what? Why? Why me?" His voice cracked, desperation bleeding into his words.

Ambrose didn’t answer immediately. He crossed the room, pacing near the window, his movements tense and agitated. When he finally spoke, his voice was strained, as though the words pained him. "Because you’re not just some random guy, Kit. You’re connected to this, to them."

Kit shook his head, everything surging to the surface at once. "Connected? What the fuck are you talking about, Ambrose? I’m just—"

"No," Ambrose cut him off, his voice sharp. "You’re not just anything. You’ve never been ‘just’ anything." His eyes locked onto Kit’s, and the corners of Ambrose’s mouth twitched. "You’ve got something they want."

Kit’s skin crawled. "I’ve—?" He blinked, his breath catching in his throat. "What do you mean, ‘something they want’?"

Ambrose’s eyes darkened. "Power." The word hung in the air like a curse. "Your alter ego, Kit.” He exhaled. “Frankly, it’s been suppressed for far too long. You need to give it another break"

Kit’s breath hitched, the weight of Ambrose’s words crashing down on him like a tidal wave. His voice was small when he finally spoke.

"…What? No.” He took a breath. “Absolutely not. I can’t do this, Ambrose. I don’t know what’s going on. I—" Kit’s eyes pricked without warning.

Ambrose’s gaze softened, just for a moment, but it was enough for Kit to see something lurking behind the man’s cold exterior. "You need to let it go." Voice low, resigned. "We’ll prepare."

Kit swallowed hard, the shadows still flickering in the corners of his vision, the memory of that thing at the bottom of the stairs seared into his mind. "No. What do you mean? Prepare? Prepare for what? What’s happening, Ambrose? Why do I even have to—"

Ambrose’s eyes darkened, his voice heavy. "No time, Kit. We’ll have to run soon."

“Wha—”

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear - Masterpost

Update schedule:

Next update— 14/12/24

Following update — 28/12/24 (every two weeks after)

Ongoing Series

“Oh yes,” said Omen, tone reminiscent. “Old Mentor went mad trying to stop me, poor dear.”

“You drove him crazy! You weaponised his own mind against him,” Kit said, hatred colouring his voice. Omen smirked.

“I was going to do the same to you,” said Omen, his voice flowing through Kit’s ears like liquid silver. “It’s a favourite of my many gifts. Not at all fit for combat like lightning or water, but I can break you without breaking a sweat. Even before I took your mind you couldn’t lift a finger against me.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Omen.

It was a whisper, a rumour, the bogeyman - nobody who met him lived to tell about it, or if they did, they didn't remember. Almost everything about him was unknown until he drove Mentor mad and claimed the notoriety for bringing the world's greatest Superhero to heel.

On his first solo mission, Kit, the hero Malyn, gets far more than he ever bargained for. Omen takes Kit as a trophy, a play-thing, a puppet - addicted to being Kit's biggest fear.

Will Kit escape Omen, or is he doomed to be Omen's puppet forever, or worse... end up like Mentor - mind melted, hospitalised, and scared of his own shadow?

Main Characters

Kit Mallory (22) — Malyn

Kit showed incredible promise in the young Hero Academy and was offered to be Mentor's sidekick, the greatest Superhero in the world. Kit took the offer, Mentor taking him under his wing as if he were family and soon that's what they grew to be; family.

After Omen attacks Mentor, Kit's entire life is uprooted, unraveling before him and he's consumed by vengeance, promising Mentor he would avenge him. He just didn't expect to meet Omen so soon, so suddenly, so unaware.

He’d be damned if he let Omen know that.

Oskar Ambrose (29) — Omen

Not much is known about Ambrose. That’s the way he likes it. The less people that know about him the better, and yet, there was something about Malyn that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something like a puzzle that he wanted to solve.

Never before had anyone made Ambrose not want to use his powers to force them to submit. Malyn… he was like the gift that keeps on giving— life is too short not to abuse a Hero every once in a while. If during the course of his meddling it happened to further his own agenda, well — that would just be an added bonus.

Chapters

Part one - Introductions

The Old Fairground

A crude awakening

Instant Regret

Breaking balls

Know your place

Part two - Homeward Bound

6. Welcome home 7. The Great Escape 8. A visitor comes a-knocking 9. Much needed alone time 10. Reprieve

Part three - A devil’s bargain

11. A deal with the devil 12. Breakdown 13. Family time

14. Wake up call

15. A foreboding calm

Part Four — shit hits the fan

16. Surprise visitor

17. Unforeseen Side-effect

18. New player on the board

19. The blood of the covenant

20. Revealing the Monster

Part Five — Supervillain saga

21. Keep your friends close

22. Wibbly-wobbly-timey-whimey stuff

23. Breaking spirits

24. Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing (part I)

25. Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing (part II)

Part Six — Shit hits the fan part 2: electric boogaloo

26. A Fool’s Bargain

27. Disoriented Dazed

28. Breaking bones

29. The difference between abuse and power

*~*~*~*~*

Oskit Fanfic

Dark Currents [Oskit Fanfic] by @jglaltacct (tw: choking, strangulation, drugging, intimate whumper, stalking, disoriented whumpee, intimidating whumper) [such a good read, from someone who doesn’t even ship Oskit, the whump is real your honour🫡]

[xy4n1d3]

★ - not so mr. nice guy

i’m fixated on alice in borderland, so why not make my first little drabble of it? ★ warnings : niragi himself is a whole ass trigger warning , noncon , gunplay , oral (niragi receiving) , swearing , hair pulling , & dacryphilia (?) if i missed any lmk ! ★ anything written in this fic is solely fiction and should not be done in real life. please remember to always separate fiction / fanfics from reality. EDIT: if you guys would like me to make a niragi fic please let me know!

the beach was a place where you could be yourself. where you could party, drink, fuck, and do all the drugs you want. you chatted with a few people here and there, most who were intoxicated or high out of their minds, and some who didn’t pay attention to a single thing you were saying, their gaze lingering on your chest. usually, you’d stay out near the pool area for a few hours, chatting the day away with kuina or catching up with arisu, but today, you were only out for about 30 minutes or so; the catcalling got to be too much and you were fed up with it, saluting your friends bye as you headed inside.  pressing the elevator button, you went in and tapped the button to lead you up to your room, just wanting to crash in bed and call it a night. but as the elevator opened and you were just about to taste victory, someone tugged your hair -- and quite hard at that -- and pulled you into a corner, pushing a finger to your lips. your eyes had widened massively, you had seen this guy around. he was aguni morizono’s second in command, and many people feared him; suguru niragi.  “oh, you’re a pretty thing, aren’t ya?” he asked rhetorically, letting his eyes wander up and down your figure, licking at his lips hungrily. you had to admit, he was quite an attractive man, but this was already a terrible first impression ( not that he already didn’t give you bad vibes, but you didn’t think he was this terrible ). you swatted his hand away and was just about to leave, however he pulled you back and slammed you against the wall. now you couldn’t leave, even if you really wanted to. “how about this,” he stated, a smirk pulling on his face, his eyes practically seeing through you, as if you were nothing but a toy to him. “you suck my dick, and i’ll let ya go, hm?” he couldn’t be serious.  you almost wanted to laugh at his desperation. did he do this to all the girls here? and you just so happened to be niragi’s lucky target of the day! how fun! “over my dead body.” you spat, trying to toughen yourself up. you thought that’d do the trick and that he’d leave you the hell alone, but your comment made him laugh, his tongue hanging out slightly from his mouth, showing off the piercing. god, he really was a psycho, wasn’t he? one second you were okay, and the next, a gun was placed to the side of your head. he was being serious about this. your breath caught in your throat, fear making your heart pound out of your chest. and niragi relished in it. he loved how he could make you cower like an injured little puppy in the matter of mere seconds.  “suck it.” he ordered, clicking the gun. it wasn’t loaded, was it? but judging by how dark his gaze became, this wasn’t a joke. obediently, you dropped to your knees and tugged on his pants, his bulge becoming much more evident. he was getting aroused by this. turned on by your fear. what a sicko.  yanking down his boxers, you gulped nervously at his size, precum already oozing from his slit, piercings glistening in the light. tilting your eyes up, almost begging for him to let you go, he nudged the gun to the side of your head, practically telling you to do it. taking in a deep breath, you parted your lips and slipped your mouth over the tip of his cock, his piercings cold and scraping against your cheeks. he was quite big, and you pushed your mouth further on him, trying to get yourself adjusted to his size. however, he was growing impatient with your pace, gripping the back of your head and completely thrusting his dick into your mouth.  you gagged as he hit the back of your throat, eyes burning and slightly watering. he just gave a small cackle and tightened his grip on your hair, giving you the cue to continue. nervously, you obeyed and began to bob your head up and down on him, feeling him hit at the back repeatedly, causing you to gag and choke a bit on your own spit. niragi’s lips tugged into a grin, quiet groans slipping out from his mouth. seeing you on your knees for him, fearful for what he’d do if you didn’t listen, gagging and choking on his dick was turning him on even more.  you dragged your tongue around the base, feeling his veins prod against your taste buds. saliva began to slip from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your cleavage and onto the floor. his groans progressed in volume slightly, his grip tightening so hard that you swore he was about to yank your hair out.. but then he started fucking your mouth on his cock harder, abusing your throat, making your gags louder as you struggled to breathe. tears pricked and rolled down your face, and you cursed at yourself for feeding into niragi’s desires. it didn’t help when he started thrusting into your mouth, his rhythm slightly sloppy -- he was close. with a few more thrusts, he leaned his head back against the wall, eyes shutting as he came in bliss, liquid spilling into your mouth. he tasted salty, and slightly bitter, and as he looked back at you, he pinched your nose; making you unable to breathe entirely which made you panic a bit. “swallow.” he ordered, voice raspy. you did as he ordered, swallowing his cum, feeling the bitter aftertaste linger on your tongue. he pulled out and let go of your nose, causing you to gasp for air as saliva dripped from your lips.  “atta girl.” he cackled, pulling the gun away and shooing you off. “i’ll play with you again soon.” tucking his dick back into his boxers and pulling his pants up, he watched as you cleaned off your mouth and quickly headed to your room, not daring to look back once you got there and shut the door. unluckily for you, you just got marked by suguru niragi. and this wouldn’t be the last time he’d see you.

[rand0mfangurlstuff]

I'll Look After You - Bucky x Y/N

This is my first ever fanfic. I dont know why I wrote this, I never ever thought I'd actually write a fic or post it. But this just wouldnt leave my head. I hope you enjoy and please give me feedback!

***********************************************************************

It had been a tough misson. They lost a lot of men. Bucky had gotten a bad concussion and broke two ribs. Despite Buckys protests that her was fine, he was put straight to the infirmary. He was told he would have to stay there for at least a week if not longer. At this news Bucky almost had a fit. He wanted to go back up in the air as soon as possible and 'show those Nazi pigs who's boss'. His protests went on deaf ears.

She noticed on the first night that he was awake much later than the other patients. She turned out the lights and told him to rest, to which he just nodded. At 4am when the other nurse came to take over; she noticed he was still awake. Surely soon sleep would take over him.

Bucky couldnt sleep. No, Bucky refused to sleep. With sleep came nightmares. Nightmares of torn off legs and burnt faces. Planes exploding right infront of his eyes. The sound of his men screaming in pain and fear. No. Bucky would not sleep.

The following night she was greeted to the same thing. All the men fast asleep and Major John Egan wide awake. Though it was clear by his sunken in eyes he was exhausted. He tried his best to hide his frequent yawns behind the book he was reading, but she could see and hear them clearly. 'Major Egan, you should be asleep by now.' 'I'm not tired.' he said as he fought back another yawn. 'You're exhausted. And your body needs sleep to recover. You'll never be cleared to get back in that plane if you dont sleep.' Noticing the stern look on her face Bucky decided to feign sleep so she would leave him alone. 'Fine, I'll go to sleep. Goodnight.' 'Goodnight Major.'

As much as he tried not to, Bucky did fall asleep as soon as he closed his eyes. Around forty minutes passed, forty minutes of blissful slumber. Cradled among the warm blankets and soft pillows of the infirmay; his body was totally serene. His mind however, was in turmoil. As the nightmares came once again, Bucky started to cry out in his sleep. 'Curt! Curt! Engine 3! Buck...' She heard him straight away, he wasnt the first pilot to have these types of dreams. His body thrashed against the bed. 'Major Egan, its okay, Major wake up.'

He shot upright in his bed with a scream. He wasnt flying the misson. He was in bed, with two thin arms wrapped around his torso. He looked at her then, really looked at her. She was scared. A shocked and timid look on her face. Was she scared of him? 'I'm sorry, I dont know what-' 'You had a nightmare. It's okay. It's normal.' Normal. Bucky did not feel normal. He had always been able to keep his cool. Not feel a thing. Now all he could do was feel. Feel the ache in his soul and the ache in his ribs. 'I'm sorry Nurse...' 'Y/N' she said with a warm smile. She was sitting on the edge of his bed. He hadnt seen her this up close before. She had long hair, it looked soft. Her eyes were kind, and her gentle smile made him feel something he wasnt sure of. 'Y/N' he played with her name on his tongue, he liked the way it sounded. It suited her perfectly.

He tried to sit up against the headboard, make himself look less vulnerable. As he moved he gasped at the stabbing pain in his ribs. 'God damn!' 'Easy there Major, let me help.' She adjusted his pillows and helped prop him up. She was so close he could smell her perfume. Warm, vanilla, like a freshly baked cookie. But also spicy. He felt intoxicated. He missed the last thing she said to him he was in such a trance. 'I'm sorry what did you say?' With concern all over her pretty face, she said 'I'm just going to get you some more pain meds okay?' she turned and walked to the medicine cabinet.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his heart rate. He wasnt sure if it was going so fast because of the nightmare, or her. She returned a moment later with two painkillers and a glass of water. 'Here you go Major.' He took the pills from her delicate hand. 'Bucky. You can call me Bucky.' He swallowed the pills. 'Mm Bucky. Cool nickname.' His heart skipped a beat hearing his name from her mouth. And she thought it was cool? He felt like a fourteen year old again. 'You should go back to sleep Major. You need your rest.' Bucky knew there wasnt a hope in hell of him going back to sleep, but he smiled and nodded so to not dissapoint her.

An hour later she was doing her rounds, checking on each patient; most of who were sleeping. Except one. Major John 'Bucky' Egan. 'Bucky, why arent you sleeping?' He lifted the book in his hands 'It's just this book Y/N, I gotta know how it ends!' She smirked, 'I saw you finish that book yesterday.' His face grew red. He'd been caught. But he couldnt possibly humiliate himself by admitting he was afraid of going to sleep for fear of his own mind.

Y/N could see it. Just as she'd seen it plenty times before. Though this case was definetly the worst. She didnt know much about Bucky, but the way the other nurses talked about his charm and swagger made her this he was not the type of man who would willingly admit his fear. She wouldnt force him to either. She grabbed the chair next to his bed and pulled it closer. She picke up the book from his lap and opened it on the first page and started reading. 'In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind...' 'What are you doing?' The confusion on Buckys face would have made a great picture. 'You've read this book twice in two days? I have to see what all the fuss is about.' She continued to read out loud in a soft melodic voice. A voice so soothing and gentle it sent Bucky straight to sleep. Even after he nodded off Y/N kept reading. Hoping that her voice could reach him in his dreams and keep him away from the darkness that lurked in his mind.

The next morning, Bucky awoke to a sight so rare, so unthinkable, he had to blink several times to make sure it was real. Y/N was still by his side, asleep on the small wooden chair, her cardigan draped over her. She had stayed, stayed by his side all night long. It was at this moment Bucky realised this was the first night in a long time he'd slept the whole night through without a single nightmare. Because she was there to protect him.

[raisoramizu]

New Order - Chapter 3: Trust Me

Hazbin Hotel Fanfic (Radioapple/Radiostatic/Radiostaticapple) - Previous Chapter: Intro - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 Follow me on Bluesky or X - Raisoramizu https://x.com/Raima_chan https://bsky.app/profile/raisoramizu.bsky.social

The terror that enveloped Alastor was something beyond what was normal for him. He had only ever felt such fear in the presence of Lilith, and he never imagined he'd feel anything like it again—least of all before Vox. Of all the demons who wanted him gone, Vox was the last one he'd have wanted to run into. It wasn't just a matter of power; it was also about pride. After all these years, encountering him like this would mark nothing short of total defeat.

The Radio Demon knew this all too well. But why in hell would a rat like Vox choose to show up, in the flesh, now of all times?

He couldn't show fear... damn it, he was becoming everything he'd ever despised. Everything he'd hidden behind his smile and the filter that dulled the tone of his voice.

His jacket still hung open—but thankfully, his shirt remained buttoned—as he stood his ground. He straightened his back against the wall that marked the end of the alley, with Vox blocking the only way out. Damn, Vox, you're always so explosively emotional. You just showed up and already look like a drenched chick trying to act tough.

He stared at him for what felt like an eternity. The rain streaked down Vox's screen, and his heavy, labored breathing shook his tense figure. His arms were spread slightly apart, his blue claws on full display. Was he taking an offensive stance? A challenge? How can you challenge me with that face? If I had all my power, I could erase that desperate expression in a second. And you're scared—I can see it, even if you're standing here in front of me.

"Well, well, Flat Face ~ You finally crawled out of that ass crack you love so much, without your goons? You're making progress ~" Alastor vibrated, his smile widening from ear to ear. He lifted his chin, tilting his head in mock pride, both hands clasped behind his back.

"Don't play with me, Old Dog... because... I know everything!" Vox's desperately aggressive reply froze Alastor's expression. What was he saying? Was he bluffing?

The Stag Demon spread his arms, his claws raised skyward, summoning a vortex of shadows from the ground, out of which snaked several tendrils. The rush of air forced Vox to shift into a more stable stance, his brows furrowing. Always drunk.

Vox's face was flushed, partly from intoxication, but mostly from the anger and tension he felt in that moment. He was hot despite being soaked from the rain. He could feel it seeping through his pinstripe suit, his white shirt sticking uncomfortably to his dark skin, irritating his circuits to the point that static electricity crackled from his antennas.

"If you want a fight with me, it won't happen. I've got no time to waste... on you," Alastor resumed.

"Heh-heh-heh." Vox's nervous laugh forced Alastor to sharpen his gaze. "So what's your plan? To run away like always, like the coward you are?" ... "Where's your cane, Alastor?"

The question struck him so hard that he staggered back a step. Vox took one forward, planting his shoe into a puddle. "It burned up, didn't it?" He continued with a sharp, desperate grin. "Stop pretending... it won't work on me. I know how weak you are, and this time, you won't escape me. I'll make sure of it. Just look at yourself!"

At that moment, Vox's voice turned into a snarl, distorted, losing its clarity as if his speakers were malfunctioning. "...you're... you're pathetic. You can't hide anymore... you're fragile, defenseless..." His eyes widened, but even his conviction seemed shaken.

Nowhere near as much as Alastor's, who felt his lungs tighten, and his gaze dropped to the ground, searching for his reflection in the large puddle forming beneath his feet. He was pathetic too—worse than Vox.

He was pale, with dark rings under his eyes. His hair, once pristine, now clung in red strands around his face, and even his deer ears couldn't stay upright under the weight of the rain. His shirt was rumpled, his bowtie loose, and his jacket hung open, stuck to his gaunt frame... he was desperate. The more he forced his smile, the more his eyes betrayed the anguish he was trying to hide.

He trembled, spreading his arms wider as the swirling mass of shadows rising from the ground intensified, creating a handful of small black creatures, marked with voodoo symbols, that shot towards the TV Demon. Simultaneously, he wrapped himself in a spherical barrier, beginning to dissolve into the shadows.

Before the creatures could reach their target, Vox bared his fangs, his body sparking with crackling electricity. With a powerful stomp, his foot sank into the puddle up to his ankle. When the bolts hit the water, they used it as a conductor, amplifying the energy.

In the blink of an eye, the surge electrocuted the small creatures, burning them as they shrieked and scattered, only to be reduced to ash. The electricity also reached Alastor, who was attempting to slip past him, his form melting into the darkness.

The Radio Demon's figure was engulfed in golden arcs of lightning, his terrified, pained shadow projected onto the opposite wall of the alley, before reforming—distorted by sharp radio static—at Vox's feet.

Vox stood over him, looking down—Alastor prostrate before him, his face in the mud. He was panting with incomplete, desperate excitement, continuing to shock Alastor. He couldn't stop himself. He needed more... and Alastor groaned, clawing at the ground, his ears pinned flat to his head, crackling and sputtering like a broken radio as the magic he instinctively unleashed in response to the pain distorted the reality around them. The Stag Demon's body began to smoke from the heat, while Vox clenched his jaws tighter, drooling, the lightning in his right eye swirling wildly.

Then, suddenly, something clamped onto his ankle with force. ... Vox curiously glanced down. It was Alastor's hand. Realizing this, Vox noticed something else, too. He was crying. A red tear streaked down his screen.

Instantly, Vox cut off the current, leaving the other demon to slump with a ragged gasp —~ ~ collapsing to the ground but failing to hit it.

Alastor's eyes went wide as cold metal clenched around his neck, choking off his breath and yanking him back, slamming him hard against the filthy asphalt of the alley.

Alastor clenched his eyes shut, gritting his teeth as he frantically clawed at the object choking him. But he was forced to snap them open when he felt Vox's fingers tighten around his jaw. ...! The other demon was on top of him, straddling his hips, sinking his claws deep into Alastor's cheeks, piercing through them. Vox's face was a mask of crazed elation and despair, his antennas still crackling with electricity, his pupil darting wildly. He drooled just as much as Alastor, who was being strangled by a steel cable coiled tightly around his neck, anchored to Vox's skull. The pressure was so intense that Alastor felt a sharp, dangerous pain shoot down his spine. If Vox kept going, he'd snap his neck. "How wonderful is it, Alastor, to see you clutch my ankle, begging me to stop?" Vox asked, laughing feverishly. "How glorious would it be to hear the sound of your neck snapping? Or to watch you foam at the mouth as you choke to death?"

The Stag Demon, still full of the adrenaline from being electrocuted, thrashed violently, trembling, writhing. He kicked his boots against the pavement, stomping them into the water, lifting his knees, trying to strike Vox's back in a desperate attempt to free himself. Around them, voodoo symbols swirled, so dense with magic that one of the streetlights by the adjacent alley burst, plunging the scene into deeper darkness.

"You're pathetic. Do you feel humiliated? Don't worry, you'll enjoy it soon." Vox continued, leaning further down until the bluish light from his screen illuminated Alastor's face. "You like it. You want to obey me, to do everything I ask. You want to serve me, to join me, to please me, you want to..." he began listing, his voice dropping in intensity, "...give yourself to me," as the hypnotic lightning swirled in his wide, spinning right eye.

Alastor froze. His red sclera reflected the opposing color that Vox emitted, the blue glow shining on his skin, blackened by the electrocution and distorted by the pressure that had filled his mouth with his own blood. ... Time stretched as the Radio Demon emptied himself: the pain vanished. He no longer felt choked, nor did he feel the tightness in his chest. He felt... nothing. Only calm. Only peace. Only desire, respect, need. He stopped struggling, his legs falling limp in the rainwater, his magic ceasing and the voodoo symbols fading from the alley.

"Vox~" he managed to whisper just as the other Sinner released his jaw, loosening the grip around his neck as Alastor's own eyes began to swirl in sync with Vox's. Vox had done it again. He had hypnotized Alastor once more. The challenge now was to maintain the trance without letting him wake up—last time had been a disaster. But now, the Demon seemed genuinely weakened. He had broken him far too easily for those words in the corridor to have been a bluff. This time, he wouldn't snap out of it. This time, Vox would keep him. He was trembling with excitement, almost bursting with anxiety. He had to hold back or he might accidentally incinerate him.

The TV Demon's shoulders started to shake with a hysterical laugh that grew louder and louder. "Heh-heh...eh-eh," he chuckled. "Good. Now... sleep, my dear Alastor." His voice distorted with an electronic effect, commanding the other Sinner to slowly shut down. And then, there was darkness.

...

The Stag didn't even realize he had slept; it had been a dreamless slumber, peaceful like the first moments of death. And now, where was he? He opened his eyes, gradually focusing on a blue neon light shining from the ceiling. He was in a huge room; maybe it wasn't a room at all, but a full-on apartment. A penthouse? It felt large—he was definitely on a king-sized bed in a loft, and below was a living room along with doors leading to other rooms. From the windows came the faint reddish glow of Hell, but most of the space—modern, for sure—was illuminated by cool blue neon lights.

He tried to roll over, clutching the black satin sheets with his claws, but he found himself trembling. Everything hurt. It felt like he'd been crammed into a small box for hours or, more likely... electrocuted for too long. Every muscle in his body shook from the strain it had been under.

He found himself lying face down, still feeling the wetness of his clothes from the rain, but also from sweat. His hair hung over his face, and he watched as his saliva dripped onto the sheets. He was thirsty.

"I brought you something warm to drink; it's on the nightstand."

Vox's voice. Alastor froze, his stomach dropping as he noticed legs moving beside the bed. His fear surged when he also spotted the slow swim of electronic sharks on the wall—no, in the wall. The entire thing was a massive aquarium, stretching both floors of the apartment. His ears flattened against his skull as his gaze slowly climbed the figure of Vox up to the television set that replaced his face. The TV Demon wore black pants and a clean shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the first two buttons undone, revealing his bluish skin. Alastor barely had time to note he wasn't wearing his usual hat before the large, blue-framed eye of the other Sinner began to swirl again, its crackling bolt of lightning serving as a pupil.

"..." Damn it... he couldn't let himself fall asleep again. He couldn't give in. And yet... that feeling was so welcoming. The pain started to fade, turning into a muffled echo before disappearing altogether. The fear melted into peace and desire. He wanted to be here. He felt safe. Why hadn't he ever thought to ask for Vox's help? Vox had everything, controlled every corner of the city, had the power and, most importantly, the will to protect him. He wasn't broken, wasn't fragile, wasn't obsessive. He wanted to be protected by him. He wanted to belong to him.

"Vox~" he called out melodically, trying his best to sit up as his eyes swirled in sync with the TV Demon's.

Even though he no longer felt the physical pain, fatigue weighed heavy on him, threatening to make him collapse, but the other Sinner wrapped a firm arm around his slender waist as he sat down next to him, his bare feet touching the floor.

Alastor clung to his shoulder, rising to his knees beside him, panting as he bent over Vox's neck. His frozen smile remained plastered on his face, but even when the hypnotic effect wore off, his eyes became blank, expressionless. He no longer felt pain or exhaustion, but something in his mind was clearly wrong. His body refused to cooperate. He was trembling—maybe because he was cold. After all, his burns were still fresh, and his neck was bruised black from the steel tentacle that had tried to strangle him. That's where he felt Vox's claws brush him.

The TV Demon left a rough caress on his skin, sliding the tight collar of his shirt out of the way before his fingers traveled up along Alastor's jaw, cradling his chin to tilt his face upwards, forcing him to meet his gaze—two different shades of red glowing from his tired, curious eyes. Vox's screen flickered with a soft blush in response to the look.

"You're..." He started to speak, but his voice faltered, pulling a tight smile of strange discomfort across his lips. Was it disbelief? "You're still soaking wet. You're in terrible shape, but we have special ointments from the Circle of Sloth that work miracles." He paused, "Tomorrow, you'll be in perfect condition to debut as the new Vees."

At those final words, Alastor let out an irritated radio buzz that made the other demon flinch. Vox's hand suddenly slid down his spine, gripping one of his thighs—still covered by his pants—between his claws and pulling him close. At the same time, he leaned down, looming over him, casting the blue light of his screen onto Alastor's wide eyes.

"So, do you finally accept your place in this company, my dear Alastor...? Or should I call you Valastor?" His hypnotic right eye expanded, his jaws gritting as drool began to spill aggressively.

The Stag Demon shuddered, pulling his legs in closer while still clinging to Vox's shoulders. "Oh yes, of course~" he answered, slipping once again under Vox's control.

The response electrified Vox—literally—his body jolting with excitement as his back arched and lightning danced between his antennae. "Ohh! Magnificent! This time we'll seal a proper pact, but later... right now..." He began to drool even more as he leaned his full weight onto the other Sinner.

He dug his claws forcefully into Alastor's thigh, pressing his body against him so forcefully that it made him arch backward, forcing him to grip tighter onto Vox's shoulders to avoid falling completely flat on the bed. Vox's hand dropped from his chin, hastily fumbling with the buttons of the damp red shirt Alastor had barely kept on. His breathing grew heavier, matching the intensity of the crackling bolt in his eye. The impatience turning into frenzy—he was on the verge of claiming Alastor violently. Finally, it was time.

"Now..." Vox repeated, his massive blue tongue slipping out from his fangs to lick lasciviously at Alastor's chin and cheek. In response, Alastor shuddered, flattening his ears and emitting a distorted radio frequency. "...I'll give you a nice, hot bath and take care of your wounds. You're freezing."

Vox, on the other hand, was burning up. His clean shirt was already sticking to his sweaty skin as he pushed Alastor flat onto the bed, climbing on top of him. He placed his knees on the mattress, between Alastor's legs, forcing them open as he pressed his tousled head against the edge of the bed, continuing to lick him, leaving trails of saliva down his neck while his claws clumsily fumbled with the last few buttons of his shirt. The static from Vox's right eye grew louder, mirroring the intensifying rise of his breath, as if all his desires were finally coming to a head.

Alastor began to twitch, his bare legs scraping against the sheets, his magic flooding the air, turning the blue neon hues into greenish shades. His smile was at odds with his half-closed eyes and furrowed brows, suggesting nothing but pain.

"This time... this time, I won't let you break free from my hypnosis, Alastor," Vox murmured, exhaling his name like a breath of smoke. "In time, you'll see that your place is here. Together, we'll rule Hell... every communication channel will be ours... you can make all the other Overlords disappear into your radio, and it will just be us—the Vees..." His excitement had already swollen to the point of pressing against the fabric of his pants, his hips grinding into Alastor's waist. The TV Demon groaned that final word into his mouth just before shoving his thick blue tongue down his throat, driving it so deep Alastor gagged.

The Stag Demon's eyes widened, the breath choking in his throat. He tilted his head back, but this only gave Vox more room to drive his tongue deeper, past his uvula until saliva started to overflow, making his eyes water. He began to kick at Vox's side, clawing at his shirt, but even sinking his teeth into the demon's massive tongue wasn't enough to free him from the sickening sensation of suffocation. But somehow, it stopped.

Vox pulled back abruptly, his shoulders retreating as he suddenly noticed the fluorescent symbols that glowed over Alastor's bony chest. This gave the other Sinner a moment to gasp, drooling against the bed.

"What are these...? Have you always had them?" Vox asked, wiping his fangs, his gaze searching for Alastor's exhausted expression.

Alastor didn't respond. "..." He stared into space, panting, his smile faint and hollow.

"These are the Voodoo symbols from the ritual that gave you your magic, right...? I recognize this one." Vox pressed a claw against the crossroad symbol of Kalfu, situated where the angel's spear had pierced through Alastor's body.

At the slightest touch, Alastor groaned in pain, his shoulders jerking up. Propping himself up on one elbow, he clawed at Vox's wrist, his pupils replaced by ticking dials. "Don't... don't touch it!" He growled, glaring at Vox, who was left staring at him with his mouth slightly open.

"They appeared when I lost most of my power... in the exact spots where I was wounded..." Swallowing a lump of saliva, he continued, more calmly now, as his gaze returned to its natural shade of red. "...Oh~ It's like the magic wants to break free. It's scratching, eating me from the inside... I feel like it's talking to me, telling me something, like it's almost time for... what?" He became increasingly desperate. "...But it's... stuck..."

"..." Alastor groaned in pain once again.

"..." Vox hesitated. "...Who did you make the Pact with, Alastor?" The TV Demon barely managed to ask, stunned and fearful, just before his attention was drawn to the shadow stretching behind the Stag Demon. It was his own dark silhouette, but its expression, with a faint glow in its eyes and smile, was utterly out of sync with the agonized, exhausted look on its master's face.

Knock, knock, knock

At that moment, someone knocked at the door. Vox flinched, his focus shifting to the entrance downstairs, leading into the open-space living room.

"Vox?! Are you in here? What the hell happened to you?" It was Valentino's voice.

The banging on the door grew so intense and rapid that it started to shake.

Bzzzzt Then, the TV Demon himself began vibrating from the ring of a cellphone; Valentino's incoming call flashed on his screen. Vox shot up from the bed, releasing Alastor, and answered with a growling, "I'm letting you in, Val!" He hung up before the other could say a word.

Placing his hands on his knees as he stood, he disintegrated into a lightning bolt, racing through the room's electrical system and reappearing downstairs in a flash—his expression now twisted in anger. But it quickly shifted into a wide smile just as he opened the door with enthusiasm. "Val..! What's go—"

"Oh, finally, damn it!" Valentino cut him off abruptly, shoving him aside as he stormed into the room. The Moth Demon pushed past Vox, taking a few nervous steps into the living room before inhaling deeply, burning through half the cigarette clamped in his holder. "What the hell have you been doing, sweetheart? I've been texting you since yesterday!" His smooth, seductive voice now tinged with irritation.

Valentino was taller than Vox, with purplish skin and a bald, round head that made his sharp, slit-like red eyes stand out even more. His heart-shaped pink glasses rested on his face, and they weren't just for show—Valentino was nearly blind. He wore his signature red fur-lined coat, tailored to accommodate his four arms. The coat matched the color of his lone intact antenna, as the other was ragged and patchy.

The TV Demon closed the door behind them, his screen-face now covered in beads of sweat as he nervously watched his partner pace the room.

"I've been busy, but..." Vox straightened up, "...I've got great news."

"...?" Valentino paused, standing in the middle of the sleek living room, decorated with retro couches, a minibar, and '80s arcade cabinets. He crossed his upper right arm over his chest, continuing to puff on his cigarette holder, his gaze locked on Vox while the massive aquarium behind him cast bluish, oceanic hues across the space. "Oh? And what's that?"

Vox glanced guiltily at the floor, which made the Moth's eyebrows raise. In that exact moment, Valentino noticed something unusual on the wooden loft above, which served as the bedroom. When he lifted his head, he saw it—through the pink tint of his glasses—Alastor.

Well, he didn't see him clearly. Squinting, Valentino craned his neck and stepped closer to get a better view under the balcony. The Radio Demon was kneeling on the bed, staring blankly into space.

The burnt ash from Valentino's cigarette fell to the floor.

"..." "The... Radio Demon?!" He growled, leaping back in alarm.

"Yeah, it's him, but look, Val, everything's fine! He's hypnotized!" Vox tried to calm him, gesturing with his hands and moving closer, a nervous smile plastered on his face. He reached out to touch Valentino's shoulder, but the Moth Demon snapped, letting his cigarette holder fall to the ground and violently grabbing Vox by the collar.

Leaning in, teeth bared, Valentino snarled, "Hypnotized like the last time he almost tore you apart?!" He shook Vox's shirt aggressively. "You give me crap about Angel Dust, and then you bring... the Radio Demon... HERE?!"

Vox gently wrapped his claws around Valentino's forearms, maintaining that jittery smile. "Heh-heh... Val, there's nothing to worry about, I swear. He's lost most of his power; all it takes is a little electricity from me to fry him..."

"Lost his power? How?" Valentino asked, stunned.

"I'm not sure... maybe it's got something to do with Lilith, but... I'll explain everything."

Valentino's jaw practically hit the floor. "LILITH?! Are you... are you insane?!" He thundered, generating a small shockwave that made the bottom of his coat flare out like a pair of massive wings.

"..."

"Maybe I am... maybe I've lost my mind."

...

[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty. Ch. 10

A Homelander X F! Reader/Dadlander fanfic.

A/N: sorry for the delay, I wrote another fic and that ate my time, hope y'all like the chapter, there's only 3 chapters left and the epilogue and now that kinktober its done I should be able to post the remaining chapters on time, if ya like to be on the taglist plz leave a comment with a request. prev. chapter here:

Tags: mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, oc characthers, child neglect, dadlander, romance, some spicy and murder.

Chapter Ten

Reconsidering

A lavish prison.

More rooms than ideas to fill them with– mere latrines for kisch. 

Floors that screamed ugly opulence, the kind that made you yearn for the simplicity of owning nothing, of forced minimalism... or tasteful decor.

When you cracked your neck to witness the enormity of the seven story mansion (not counting the cellar basement and the terrace) the price tag had frightened you to the core more than the height, making you feel more than inadequate in visitation, as you had come in jeans and an ironic t-shirt to accompany him (not that you had a choice)--  as Homelander pulled you around from floor to floor, forcing you to walk alongside him from beige rooms to white rooms, past rich dark wood doors. So heavy they hurt your wrist, you worried for your future.

These were the things you could only witness in pictures.

“I hate the carpet.” He said coyly, trying to stand close to you without frightening you.

Looking down at the rug you’ve taken your shoes off for-- it was luxurious, it was nice for the somewhat dark library, the smell of curated cedar and walnut genuinely intoxicating. From a second glance it matched his taste in your mind, but you guess he was a lot more finicky than he already was– perhaps it wasn’t soft enough for him, you thought.

“I'd rather we just have the floors bare– it’ll be easier to clean.”

“Concerned about the maids already?”

“Maids?”

“Honey, you don’t think I expect you to clean this thing by yourself?” He gave you a playful pat in the back– even with superspeed you’ll wear yourself out…”

The real estate agent who kept rubbernecking at your direction, raised his eyebrow as he saw how stiff you were next to your fiance.

Pressing yourself against the aged stone of the terrace fence, the city seemed so far away as you looked down from so high up, wondering if you could fall quick enough, if he would catch you right on time or make it easy for himself and play the tragic broken hearted hero. The cold breeze kissed your temples as you processed the jarring passage of time.

Kaleem, his wife Alessia and your co-worker Chrissie dropped what they were doing when you broke the news that you’ve gotten engaged, they’ve already gotten it from the breaking news report and online but actually hearing it out of your mouth cemented it, it wasn’t a lookalike sharing your name marrying Homelander! But you! Their hardworking and worn out cook. 

Who never once mentioned him before, who never described your baby daddy, who gave no hints… yet to them who thought were your friends–if not confidants, felt betrayed.

They were friends of yours but the fear of Homelander’s and Vought had been so great you never wanted to disclose who’s Helena’s father was to anybody, they had formed very strong opinions over the time they’ve known you but at the sight of half a dozen black suits entering their pizza shop– you probably would have never been able to tell them on your terms, anyways.

 You had no choice now but to divulge.

After having been made to lose a day’s work and being informed they would have to agree to some sketchy stuff regarding selling your situation to the public, you owed them an explanation– at least the financial compensation for their cooperation was generous.

Right now you were a stranger.

You told a version of your story, adding to what they already knew, like everybody else their image of Homelander was firmly cemented after 20 years of exposure to the bastard, it was hard to view ‘The Nation’s Favorite Dad’ was the one who threw you on the streets, nobody spoke much while you melted into the booth, your sight so far away, as the light’s buzz drilled into your brain.

“Is the dick at least good?” Chrissie slurped loudly on her coke– I mean go get your bag bitch, just don’t let him make you sign a prenup and when you get divorce take half his shit.”

“Slightly above mid… his mouth tho…” You did smile there.

“Is it little?” 

“I wish… shit hurts. Can’t sit straight afterwards... he's just so quick! Thank god his mouth isn't just good at speeches” You chuckle dryly.

Chrissie began spacing her fingers until you rolled your eyes in embarrassment, poor Kaleem sat in his corner pretending to be blind.

You both shared an ugly snorting laugh, cackling from the absurdity of the situation.

“You wouldn’t be the first woman to marry for benefits– trust me I seen a lot of ‘90 day fiance’ and my aunt Lucia’s been married to my uncle for 32 years– she met him a month before the wedding and only for the green card.”

“32 years?” That was dreadful.

Alessia was quite relaxed about the whole ordeal, if anything it was the most stimulating thing that had happened in recent years and seeing a six-year- old tutor her teenage son was exhilarating.

“She said he has a big dick and uncle works the night shift… works great for her– pretty sure 2 of their 7 kids are his” 

“Is this the aunt Lucia that came and did our light fixtures? I feel sorry for your uncle.” Chrissie said.

“Yes– she's happy, and don’t be… Uncle Frank may have a whole other family in Mexico, but that’s a whole other business.” She said loudly– look you had it rought, and fuck him. I thought killing the dude at that rally was a bit much, but dumping you in the streets– way worse than murder! Look, we got three kids and if this dumbass died on me– I don’t know how I would cope and if some hot rich asshole asked me to marry him… I might ‘cuz college ain't cheap.” You could laugh, watching Kaleem agreeing he would do the same if she died– Homelander is cute and has money. You said it yourself– you don’t have to love him. He’ll meet somebody else and end it, but Helena it’s your main priority here not him, and I mean after everything you’ve been thru you deserve to cruise thru life.``

“I don’t think John is going to let me fuck around…” You groaned, resting your head on your forearm as you sunk deeper– I don’t have to be happy, right?”

“It’s overrated.” Chrissie said– Helena would probably finish college by 12, and that if she takes her time.”

“Thank you guys for encouraging me in my new ‘Sugar Baby’ journey– I always knew I had it in me to be an amazing hoe.”

It wasn’t what you wanted to hear… to them who just like you had to break their backs to keep the roof over their heads, it was an enviable golden opportunity and in this economy one couldn’t really afford to miss out on such opportunities… 

“Just pretend you like him if he’s ever around, I guess.” you mention.

“It’s gonna be hard ‘cuz I like Noir more.” Chrissie says leaning across the table to pat your shoulders.

So here you were admiring the Upper East Side, in the nicest street, in a coveted building that he had every desire in the world to make you ‘Lady of the House’, it was beyond extravagant it even had an elevator… so there was some appeal.

Ashley followed him like a lap dog as he listed a billion much needed remodeling decisions to bring back the home into the office spaces by force, in case he decided to purchase the edifice.

“So you like it? This is the fifth house we’ve seen… you said you wanted a yard and space.”

“Needs more plants… is a great location…” you said softly, still looking down, pretending to not notice Ashley was writing that down too.

“But do you love it?” he pressed rubbing your shoulders– we can still get the penthouse… even if it's only four bedrooms but great open concept! Or the condo right in front of Central park– but that one is only 3 bedrooms which might tamper with our plans… although the one in 63 street, classy and it has a cinema.” 

He kissed your forehead, after speaking quickly.

“Do you love it?” You asked, fixing his hair once he got too close to you– this will be your home too.”

“Is pre-war” He whines playfully– is so pretty… the brownstone… the history…” He gives you the most pathetic attempt of ‘puppy eyes’ you’ve ever seen, a smile creeps onto your face without permission which he takes graciously– I can see us here.”

“You’re not hanging a giant american flag anywhere in this house!”

“A small one?” He pouts.

“In your office… and it better be small, John.” You rested your head on his chest– The kitchen… is awful.”

He was touchy, your skin numb to his touch at this point, he wanted to kiss you and hold you until you cherished him, but he wouldn’t force it. 

You just had to keep smiling and thwart most of his approaches, but you know if you gave him just enough affection he would be unable to notice the wicked game you were playing– forcing him to move at your dictated pace, to keep him on his toes yearning that you would turn and pamper him, never knowing if his affections were welcomed or not, but knowing you gave yours to him and he welcomed it.

You could see Ryan and Helena growing up happy, and safe. 

You and those two children sitting by the fireplace, enjoying hot chocolate and opening Christmas presents.

You would in fact not choose this house just to spite the man, who had fallen in love with his grand vision– not that the chosen house was worse, just one floor shorter, just as massive as the other and still in a great location… so Homelander didn’t complain too much… just a little.

The boxes increased but there was still so much to fill up, even with his stuff it wasn’t enough to fill the gaps… he would not spare you from the American flags, tragically as it sounds. 

At least it was framed and matched the decor of the gallery and dining room. As you unpacked and watched the movers bring the beds while the kids argued about who kept which floor– Helena demanded the fourth floor already making executive decision to turn the empty rooms into labs and  offices for her future endeavors, while Ryan wanted to be normal child and stay in the same floor as his sibling, ultimately pushed to the fifth floor after multiple rounds of rock-paper-scissors, and a paternal mediator who said they had to settled it with another round of games which sadly Ryan lost.

After a laborious day, you two just sheepishly laughed as you stared at your bedroom, both leaning against each other as you laughed, staring at the wooden cross dividing the two beds and matching nightstands– all so very circa 50’s catholic chic. 

You two just laughed about how absurd this was in execution, a part of you wished to just put the beds together instead of making your great-grandmother proud.

“Y’know we could’ve fit two kings in here…” He said while staring at the space.

“I thought you wanted me close-by.”

“Double’s were the perfect choice.” He replied quickly.

It took weeks before you reached a boiling point with your live-in situation, to see him walk around your home in that stupid suit, his mind longing for the familiarity of his abandoned penthouse was frustrating, he himself didn't expect to miss it either– He felt like a guest that refused to leave instead of your fake fiancee, this wasn’t him staying overnight at your previous domicile levels of awkward, that had been a challenge on its own, even if now you skipped the pillow walls and sleeping on the floor… God knows how many times he picked your unconscious self up from the ground and laid you to bed, while he sat next to you reading a book in the dark– this was an alien living in your house calling himself the owner. 

Before you knew it your heart stung as you dragged the two kids to the nearest Target to bulk buy the man some loungewear, both from exasperation and as request from his son who mentioned he didn’t really own much clothes, and what little he did own he didn't feel like washing every 2 days just to chill around the house... and as his future wife you gave yourself automatic permission to buy him clothes… just anything that would get him out of that suit.

Ryan had never been to many stores before, much less a Target, it hurt a tad to see him fascinated by the colorful aisles and the abundance of people…knowing he had grown in a compound, the mother in you just wanted to squeeze him and apologies for it all, but you instead just squeezed the handle bars and let him pick snacks that caught his fancy.

It was hilarious that you would find yourself doing this again– back then buying for him had been difficult, he wore very little but he liked your input, he simply wore what you told him, but after so long you had no idea what he liked anymore– this wasn’t food… this wasn’t easy… so the plainest sets were your best bet.

There was something fresh about this, as you perused the aisles with the kids in tow, thinking of buying him some jeans and clean button ups, Ryan picking up colorful socks while Helena opted to pick him a shirt just to fit in.

You had fun, you looked forward to sprousing his wardrobe, watching this scene play out made you feel as if you were normal, until somebody took your photo at the checkout in your least flattering angle.

It took another week before he opened up to being undressed and exposed in cheap pajama pants and white t-shirts, it would take three weeks for him to do so without being told to– plus enough complaints about people trying to photograph them after seeing the Homelander lounge in the terrace, served as added motivation.

You told yourself it wasn’t too bad to cohabitate, as you saw him slowly get more and more comfortable in his new environment, as you watched him become softer with your kids, as you found yourself having pleasant breakfasts, found yourself being welcomed home and conversed over coffee about your day or his day– not even bringing up his concerns about you still choosing to work in Lucci when you could do so much better too often, giving up on teasing you with buying you a restaurant, or upcoming publicity stunts when you weren’t in the mood to listen to the drivel.

Staring down from the roof garden looking at the brownstone buildings around and the pale light, pleased by the subtle fragrance of flowers behind you, he seemed so normal as you watched him from across the coffee table.

He kept sipping on his latte looking miffed before turning around and asked about why Elmo had been staying over for the last 3 days, to which you reminded him he sent his dads to sort some business in Singapore.

“Does he have no other family?” He thought of Singapore– it was quite urgent… they decided to fuck us up.”

“You and them booked them for acting classes plus they have their first suit fittings tomorrow… easier for them to leave Elmo here and have us take care of that– they’re a team-up. They should be close.”

“I know! But why does he have to sleep here? He’s a boy.” He seemed concerned.

“‘Cuz we got the space…?”

“It doesn’t seem appropriate.”

“Oh you freak.”

 He was still stiff around the edges but you could bear with it, as you saw him and Helena bond you knew your daughter was handling him well– your target was Ryan now. 

You asked him to help you around the kitchen more, taking your time to teach him without pressure, scolding his father when he acted like it was undignified of him to help around the kitchen and forced him to eat whatever he'd made, making him feel proud when he took charge of dinner even if it was slightly too salty at times and his impenetrable skin resulted in chipped knives… 

 You helped him make those cute films and took him out to the cinema, buying him books on the subject, encouraging him to join art clubs, to try as many extracurriculars he was interested in and to ignore his father as he pushed Ryan to join sport related clubs, when all he wanted was to make dioramas with his new found friends, instead. 

Homelander didn’t have any issues with Helena for her selections were sparse, just the chess club, and some science club she was quickly losing interest in… if anything he was being pushy about piano– and god knows how he managed to bring that piano to the fifth floor without breaking anything.

Is not as if she was already taking too much in-between physics, science and math classes… and working casually at Vought, but he didn’t seem to care. Helena assured you she could handle it, telling you to focus on your tasks without worry and you listened.

Ryan liked your support, it helped you get closer as you allowed his friends to enter the house for his little projects, he liked when you twisted his father’s ear to let him be just in case he began to disapprove, he began to trust you.

Helena wasted her afternoons in the office between daycare, superhero training and shadowing her father or Ashley, reading his meeting notes, writing them for him, or as he called it assisting him, learning about the company and the labs from her privileged position– the whispers of curious passerby wondered why Homerlander would keep his daughter so close, it had taken the building by surprise to learn that this little girl had been his child all along even if rumors had spread prior… but the once cute anomaly began to gain a insidious reputation in the underbelly of this company, something that made them more uneasy than just her strange demeanor from before.

“What’s that on your dress?” You noticed a brown stain on the hem of her dress.

“Iodine.” She said while taking her clothes off, Homelander said nothing as he picked after her.

Homelander gave you a stiff smile as he scrunched the clothes into a ball before your kid ran up towards the bathroom, mentioning she’s a tad clumsy with the equipment as he walked past you.

You didn’t need to know that the duet had some quality father-daughter time to the misfortune of some lab rat.

He stared at the chunky bloodstain sliding down the wall.

“I can explain.” She panted, staring at her work as her eyes spun around the room.

“It’s pretty obvious what happened, no?” He said stepping on top of the unidentified– "I'll have somebody come clean it up, darling.”

“You’re not mad?” She asked, genuinely nervous, fidgeting with her fingers as her head throbbed.

“Why did you kill him?” He stared at the smashed patty with curiosity.

“He resisted termination… forcing me to defend myself… he took my assistant.”

Homelander looked at the other corpse and its mangled remains, spilling around her boots.

“Why?” He spoke with a boor.

“Self-defense.”

“You took your time doing it… you could have cut his oxygen supply and killed him in a few minutes, instead you” He kicked a shattered bone– made it agonizing.”

“Tch… if he attacked me I would’ve lost control of the bubble…” She gasped lightly trying to kill the headache inside her– the math… the math makes sense. My formulas make sense. But it's them… these samples aren’t fit, they aren’t meant to be like us. They are worthless!”

She leans towards the wall, smacking her forehead against the wall full force, Homelander jumps on his heel but doesn’t reach her as she mutters incoherent curses under her breath, his hand stop just inches from her.

 “This one wasn’t too bad… I thought I cracked it but then I noticed…” Helena was pensive looking at images he wasn’t privy to, as she spoke with a light airy voice as her lungs emptied for her to speak once more— I cull it.”

She squatted picking up a loose tooth from the ground, examining the perfectly structured canine, for the first time Homelander felt uneasy about her.

“Is not often that I feel…”

Homelander raised a curious eyebrow, taking a step closer towards her, Helena tilted her neck to look at him, her sight so detached it didn’t seem possible for a child to make such an expression.

“Excited. The simulations always succeed but the human variant poses an interesting angle I hadn’t previously considered… truly successful adult specimens… V24 almost recreated the perfected serum but with nasty side-effects… programming the serum is obtainable but adult humans continue to reject it or somehow create variants as if the host alters the code live”  She flicks the tooth– Is like Frederick left me a puzzle.”

“So are these just pieces” He waved his fingers nonchalantly at the messy remains.

She scoffed standing up and patting her knees clean.

“You know why I play piano?”

He shook his head.

“Because in order to be good at it… you have to foster talent… but no amount of practice can’t beat those blessed with a gift… supposedly. So I have to solve his puzzle because I cannot believe that that coward was blessed more than me.”

“You think Vought has beef with you? So what will you do with all your failures? Murder them?”

“Is it murder to cull a deformed goldfish? No… that’s just mercy.” She stands up fixing her hair– It’s not beef. Is a challenge he left us with.”

His smile is so wide his skin creaks as it stretches. 

He picked her up to plant a kiss on her chubby cheek.

“You’re such a messy child.” He kissed her again– you got your pretty dress dirty.”

“Sorry.” She moped– sorry about all of it… you must think I'm a hack.”

“Is okay princess… daddy will just buy you a new one… and a new dress.”

You didn’t question the stains on her dress, god knew what sort of chemicals and stuff she had to play with, and how much of it wasn’t built for the size of her hands.

The more you saw him return to that man you once loved, you felt down the spiral of considering giving him a second chance– Helena was happy, she was smiling, she was playful, your quiet daughter had blossomed under your mutual care, seeing him domesticated, seeing him interact with genuine joy with her had began to melt your heart. It didn’t help that he look so delectable in compression shirts, as he came back with the kids without a sweat on his brow, Ryan just as dry with nothing more than messy hair and then your daughter dropping to the ground half-dead from the walk… what you had stared at mostly had been his ass in those black tights.

“Honey it was only 20 miles.” He sounded a bit frustrated– gotta get her fit otherwise she will get outperformed.” He turned to you sounding a tad aggressive– she’s my daughter she should be able to handle it just like me and Ryan.”

“Mommy!” she cried.

“Most humans can’t even do twenty!”

You picked her up, not caring she was covered in sticky sweat but as you draped your child over your shoulder kissing her head as she whined, you caught an improper glimpse at him, no doubt he caught a couple looks from passersby on his way here– even by this city standards he was wearing too little.

“Go change…” You said with a light blush on your neck– don’t be a dick to her, she wasn’t born a copy of you.”

He pestered Helena for the rest of the evening, giving up once she barricaded herself in her bedroom.

“Spending all her time inside books is not gonna do her any good… she needs exercise.”

“I think you got the kids mixed up, dear.”

He moped in the living room pursing his lips, one sentence away from crossing his arms and whining like a child.

“Look I think it’s great that you want to train her but… she’s not like you. I would love for her to have inherited some of your physical skills– it's just not gonna happen.”

“I know. I don’t know why she’s so different from me… yet she has to get better…” His sight lingered on the roof– You think she’ll move her dresser out the way.”

“She’ll move it when she wants to– and don’t think about getting in there thru her window!” He almost complains but chooses to stay quiet scooting closer to you on the couch– What?”

“You seem mad…”

“You harassed our kid all day and made her upset… but I was mad before it...I made the mistake of googling myself after somebody at work made mention–  have you seen the shit that people are saying ‘bout me online ‘cuz of you.”

Homelander shook his head lightly.

“I only google myself.”

“People are saying nasty shit. Hurtful shit… saw my mom getting interviewed… that was nice… she certainly made me feel like shit.”

“Want me to kill her?” Homelander spoke in such a bored tone, his head finding his way on your lap with the smoothness of a cat, unconsciously your hand took to his hair– Or something else?”

You stared at him and considered it, your mom sort of had it coming if she was going to paint herself a saint for her 15 minutes of fame.

“Don’t kill my mom, John. I just don’t want people saying I’m a bad mother because my kid went to a “shit public school” in the projects.” you said annoyed.

“I’ll see if Vought can write you a fluff piece.”

You believed him, choosing to put your anxieties away as he nuzzled into your stomach and let you watch TV without care as long as your hands kept pampering him making little commentary as you watched true crime videos.

Rolling in your bed you turned to see his back on the bed beside you, you signed readying to play dirty, your body awoken to something sickening.

“I know you ain’t asleep, John.”

His ears perked, he turned to see your silhouette in the dark.

“I can’t sleep.” You whispered– mmm…so” you signed lightly– can you get your dick up?”

His ears perked up, lifting himself by his elbows as he adjusted to face your darkened silhouette, your cheeks reddened, mildly embarrassed, your mind wandered back to the sight of his clothes, to the tussling of his hair and the glint in his eyes as of late… and of that last sudden night of intimacy.

“Oh. O-okay… might need some stimulation is not like I got a crank down there.” he faked being annoyed by your request.

“I stopped taking the pill…” His piercing eyes illuminated the room for a brief second just to catch a sly smile ‘bout to fade away off your face– so you wanna put the mommy in MILF or not?”

He tripped out of the bed to jump into yours, clawing his way back towards you, as the little voice in his head blared sirens.

Latching on your neck, ripping your clothes open as you tried not to chuckle at his messy desperation to fuck you, you closed your eyes and thought of nothing but the hundred different pleasurable sensations prickling you– it had been so long… your body sensitive, writhing over his hungry touch, wherever his hands and his lips got to taste you felt it twice as strong.

Whatever he was imagining in his head was happening none of it was relevant– this was simply a mutually beneficial exchange. Nothing but lust, it had to be lust because you didn’t see Homelander underneath you, as you rode him, as he let you fucked him just as hard as he wanted to fuck you– you saw the John that he had killed so many years ago... but somehow you didn't hate the sight.

He wanted to devour you, he was needy and pent-up and you took it all graciously, for one night you two used each other equally.

Finding himself delighted and more aroused at the squeals and mewls coming from your delicious lips just as much as you enjoyed the moans and guttural grunts that came from him as he cried against your chest, crying for your kisses and directions, liking the way he craved your scent once again.

You were better than his molasses drenched memories.

Homelander teeth gilded over your neck, the thought of him ripping and gnawing on your flesh lingered as he brought you to an orgasm. 

To be so close to death as you touched heaven… you heaved, melting into the mattress letting him lumber atop of you, too delighted with the end result to complain… looking down to find him kissing your chest, whispering sweet grunts as your hand pampered his hair, you tried not to smile at that satiated goofy expression on his face, at the flickering light illuminating your skin as he purred around your touch.

He was so easy to win over… it scared you.

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[d1ana-m0nd]

╭─► ❝Poison Lips❞

Serval Landau × Yandere! GN! Reader || Written by Diana (d1ana-m0nd) || Inspired by Toxic

➢ Yandere && Not Proofread , Scenario && Word Count 298

➢ Everyone says love is a good thing, something that is complex and it can be experienced differently with each person you experience it with. Everyone should experience love in their life once in a lifetime. No one told Serval that love can be dangerous as well.

➢ CONTENT WARNING : There will be typical yandere themes (abuse, obsessiveness, possessiveness, and manipulative behavior), do not read this fanfic if you find it triggering or you are below 18+, slight lime but vague.

Serval was scared of your lips, they were overwhelmingly sweet and addicting. Some would even say that your lips are poison itself, others even joke that your lips should wear a warning due to how toxic those lips were. Despite the red flags and the dangers that she heard about you, Serval still found herself being lured in by the "toxicity" that she calls love, which will be her demise.

With every fight and anger that is lashed out upon her, Serval still found herself loving you but she is scared of you. You make her flinch whenever you raise your voice and your loud footsteps make her anticipate the worst to come yet, you reassure her that your actions are out of love to which she fell for. She hated that she loved you even though she knew that she was growing in fear of her life.

Everyone around her tried to warn her and tried to make her leave you but, you made her head spin with your sweet words and poisonous lips that lured her further into the abyss. She found herself stuck in the abyss, as reality and lies blended together which made her head spinning round and round. You got her where you wanted her to be, right within your reach.

Whenever you both explore each other's caverns or bodies, lust drives you guys on the edge. A lustful ride that leads you guys to poison paradise. Despite it being unspoken, you were just as addicted to her as how she was to your lips. You both intoxicated each other, with each other's love. Neither of you couldn't help it nor stop drinking the devil's cup, something you both treasure with each gulp despite the poison that was already dripping from your lips.

➢ DISCLAIMER : I wrote this not to vent or fantasize the concept of abusive relationships. I want to experiment with writing different relationships types, so what I wrote is very textbook based and experimental please don't take it to heart.

➢ "Minors don't interact" & "Reblog to support your favorite writer" belong to @/benkeibear