#intoxicating fear fanfic

[jglaltacct]

Dark Currents (Intoxicating Fear fanfic)

@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.

[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!!!!

[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"

[peachesofteal]

Would it be selfish to ask for more information on the widow or what everybody felt when Johnny was alive and everything was happening still

This is fanfic babe, it’s all self indulgent and selfish, and that’s okay 🖤

Johnny didn’t want to fall in love with Simon. He never felt like he was missing anything, no. He had everything he wanted, you, a home, a life, a baby. He loved you so completely, he never even entertained the idea of loving another. So, Simon didn’t fill some empty part of his heart. There wasn’t anything lacking in his life. He was already standing in the sun.

Simon just… changed things. He/it started like an illness, plaguing him day in and day out, making him dizzy every time he caught a peek of LT’s skin between his gloves and sleeve, or a flash of flesh at his neck. Made him lightheaded whenever Simon called him Johnny, a name only reserved for you, but for some reason… he couldn’t find it in himself to argue. Being around Simon was intoxicating, addicting, and Johnny couldn’t stop. No matter what. No matter that he couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep from the guilt, the awful, debilitating guilt that ate away at him, every minute of the day. How could he do this to you? How could he even entertain this?

Simon was content to treat his affection for Johnny like it didn’t exist. He knew about you, knew about Johnny’s life, about everything he had back home. He didn’t want to ruin Johnny’s life, didn’t want him to hurt. But the attraction was like a magnet. No matter what he did, he thought of Johnny. No matter where he went, whatever corner he rounded, Johnny was there. When he closed his eyes, he saw Johnny’s. It became more than affection, it became a gravitational pull. Pushing him closer and closer until one night, in the dark on a base in the middle of god knows where, Simon took off his gloves… and cradled Johnny’s face in his palms, like he was the most precious thing on this earth.

The mission was over two days later. Simon went home to an empty flat, and Johnny went home to his bonnie wife and new baby, heart overflowing with despair.

Your husband never lied to you. He never hid anything from you, didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body. So when you picked him up from the hangar that day, head slung low like a dog, fear prickled up your spine. Something was wrong. You knew it right away.

You just had no idea… it would be this.

“Was it- all a lie?” Was this something that had always been? Had he been having an affair with Simon… this whole time?

“No, Bonnie. No, ah love ye, ah’ve always-“

“How… how long has it been going on?” How had you not known? How did you miss the signs? You cursed yourself, but in reality, there hadn’t been any signs. Not until today. Your husband had always been yours, your Johnny. Loving. Caring. Sweet. A good man. A good father.

“Ah dinnae. Ah jus’ felt something. I couldn’t stop it.”

“How could you do this? We have a child!” You couldn’t understand. Couldn’t wrap your head around it, even though Johnny tried and tried again, to explain. What was wrong with you? Were you not enough? Did he ever truly love you?

“Ah know, ah- didnae mean to do it ah, ah love ye both so much. I swear it.”

It took time. So much time. So many nights of tears and torture and disbelief. Johnny begged you to stay. He pleaded, to try to save his family.

He even offered to leave the 141.

But you couldn’t ask it of him. You couldn’t cut him off from a piece of his happiness.

So you took a giant leap into something completely unknown. Terrifying. Foreign. You closed your eyes, and trusted in Johnny completely. You agreed to support him, supported a relationship with Simon. Even though, it hurt. A lot. All the time. Even though it led to fights and low points of your life- you both tried.

Your willingness to try, is what led Simon to stay for dinner that night after he brought Johnny’s tags home to you. It’s what convinced him to take you to breakfast the next morning. It’s what has him answering the phone in the middle of the night a week later when you’re having a panic attack, brought on by too many nights of no sleep. It’s what has him driving over in a panic when he has ten missed calls from you, only to find you asleep on the couch with the baby, phone wedged between your back and the couch, effectively dialing him every few minutes. It’s what eventually has him lingering by the door, watching you in a new light, seeing the way Johnny saw you; bright, beautiful, endlessly lovely and patient and kind, understanding and sweet, the kind of person that Johnny treasured. Protected. Cherished.

Also if wrote this fic it’d be 1000% current timeline: Simon/reader and flashback timeline: Johnny/reader and Johnny/Simon

And… this reader is definitely Darling.

[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:

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[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.

[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)

[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.

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy(‘s Gun)

a Vash (Trigun) fanfic, cross-posted on ao3

Vash was the most accepting person you had ever met. He made you feel safe and loved just as you were, secure enough to explore your interests and fantasies without fear of judgment.

Which is why he was currently watching as you got off on the barrel of his gun.

“Does that…does that feel good baby?” He asked, wide-eyed and a little breathless. When you told him that you wanted to try something new tonight, he certainly never expected this.

Neither did you, really. Something about the way Vash handled his weapon, the grace and confidence with which he wielded something so destructive- it did something to you.

You had found yourself growing slick at the sight of him this morning, his long black-gloved fingers wrapped around the grip as he held the barrel to the ground, refusing to shoot at the thug who had threatened him.

Your sweet pacifist had talked the man into leaving town. Though he pointed the gun down and seemed to forget it was even there, you saw the tell-tale strain of muscles in his forearms and the taut focus of his neck and shoulders, a coiled spring held back by his own will. Vash could have ended the man and every onlooker besides with the twitch of a finger, but he never, ever would. His control was intoxicating.

He had noticed your distracted air when you both returned to the hotel room, the way you worried your lip between your teeth and looked at him with a glazed hunger.

“Everything okay, Mayfly?” Vash slid his metal arm around your shoulders, his eyes crinkling in concern.

“Yeah, ‘course it is.” You had smiled back at him, trying to hide the need that flushed your cheeks. You didn’t relish the thought of explaining to your sweet boyfriend that you wanted him to fuck you with his gun.

He tilted his spiky blonde head, giving you his signature pout. “I can tell when something’s up, you know. You can tell me…”

You sighed. “It’s nothing bad, Vash. Just a little…embarassing.”

That got him even more invested. “C‘mon Mayfly, pleaaaase? I wanna know!!” The Humanoid Typhoon clasped his hands and looked up at you with pleading eyes. It was like he could make them bigger, somehow- more sparkly. Maybe it was a plant thing.

You shut your eyes tight in a futile attempt to avoid his charms. “Look, it’s just something new I was thinking about. With you. Intimately.”

In an instant, Vash switched from curious to suave. Or what he thought was suave, anyway. You would swear his voice dropped an octave.

“Intimate, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and the arm around your shoulders tightened, holding you against his chest. He spoke into your hair. “Now there’s no getting out of tellin’ me.”

Effectively trapped against his side, you gave a defeated huff. “Fine. But you don’t have to do it, okay? This is a lot, even for us.” You knew that he’d do just about anything to make you happy, and didn’t want him to feel like he had to follow along if he wasn’t comfortable. He nodded.

“You know I love how strong you are. How much I admire your ideals, and your moral code…” you trailed off. There was no easy way to transition into your request. “This morning, with the guy who threatened you, I was watching and…” You covered your face with your hands, whispering the rest through your fingers. “I really liked your hands. Around your gun, you know? And I want to…I want you to use it on me.”

Vash had been following along with a focused expression, but looked at you in confusion as you finished. He gently pried your fingers away from your face and peered down at you. “You want me to use my hands on you? ‘Course I can, but that’s not exactly new, Mayfly.”

You bit your lip. He wasn’t making this easy on you. “Not your hands, Vash. The other thing.”

His eyebrows crept up his forehead as it dawned on him what you meant. “You want me to use my gun? You want me to use my gun on you?”

You nodded, burying your face in his chest. “I know it’s a lot…” Vash brushed his hands against your hair reassuringly. You leaned in to his gentle touch, but froze when you noticed something hard against your waist.

You pulled back to stare up at him. “Vash, are you…?”

The man was looking resolutely over your head, his face as red as his coat. His hands kept petting your hair as he swallowed hard, clearly trying to keep his cool. It wasn't exactly enough to distract from the throbbing tent in his tight black pants. Your mouth watered.

“Vash…” you palmed over his bulge, shivering at the whimper he made. You loved how needy he could be, in a way only you got to see. It made you even hotter to see how the thought of your new kink had affected him. “You like that idea?”

He nodded, his face strained. “I- I’d be really careful with you, Mayfly. If that’s what you want, I’ll keep you safe while we do it.”

Your heart warmed. Of course that’s what he was thinking, and you loved him for it. “That’s the only reason I even felt like I could ask,” you whisper.

Which is how you found yourself in his lap, grinding your hips down desperately against the cold metal of his revolver.

Vash sat back against a chair, his legs spread wide for stability as you perched in his lap. His flesh hand held his gun in a tight grip while the other rested lightly on the small of your back, keeping you up.

You couldn’t dwell too much on the difference between the two, his intensity with the gun compared to his softness with you, or you’d come undone.

“Vash…” you whine and let your head fall forward against his neck, rubbing yourself harder against the barrel of his long colt. The metal is slowly warming from your body heat.

“Does that feel good, pretty girl?” Vash’s eyes are dark, locked on the slick shine of your arousal coating his weapon, but his voice is gentle. You feel his hand trembling where it rests on your skin.

“So, so good,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his neck. You both look down, staring together at the wet slide of your cunt.

Vash gently stilled you with pressure on your back. “Hang on, Mayfly. I wanna try something.” The tip of his tongue stuck out from the corner of his mouth as he focused on slowing you down and gently taking away his revolver.

You whined at the loss of contact, sliding your teeth along his shoulder. “Don’t stop…”

Vash laughed low and slid his hand up and down your back in loving motions. “Let me try something, okay?” He held the gun loosely in his flesh hand, twisting and turning it to watch your arousal glisten.

“Look at the mess you made,” he murmured. “We gotta clean this up.” He watched your eyes as he raised the colt to his mouth and took a long, languid lick. He moaned at your taste, the way he always did, sending a pulse of heat straight to your core.

He tongued the muzzle like it was your mouth, his spit mixing with your juices and collecting on his lips. “Your turn.” Vash held the gun up to your face, resting the end on your bottom lip. “Taste us, love.”

You part your lips to let Vash in, and he slides the warm, wet mess of the muzzle into your mouth. He pushes further, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as your mouth strains around the intrusion. You gag once and he freezes, then keeps sliding in, whispering encouragement. “Take it, Mayfly. I know you can.”

You swirl your tongue around the barrel, taking in sharp metal, your own tangy musk, and the clean florals of Vash’s spit. You close your eyes and drink it in, blissful.

Vash strokes your cheek with the back of his prosthetic hand. “I wanna see you suck it, baby.” His fingers were off the trigger, but your body still tensed and shuddered at the vulnerability of your position, exactly what you wanted.

You obliged, hollowing your cheeks to suck hard at the barrel of his revolver, bobbing your head as best as you could, coating it in your saliva and cleaning off the wetness you had already left. Vash murmured praise as he watched you, his strong body taut and trembling.

Your obvious enjoyment at the debasement kept him achingly hard and invested in the otherwise unthinkable act of fucking your mouth with his gun. It represented all his self-control, all his power- that is, the choice and sacrifice of not using that power. He couldn’t help but adore you for the trust that you showed, the bone-deep faith that he would keep you safe.

“You look so beautiful like this.” Vash’s voice was ragged with want. You flattened your tongue along the barrel, sliding it half an inch further. The blonde leaned close to press a kiss to the corner of your stretched lips. “I’ve got you, okay? Remember your safe word.”

You nodded, breathless, and he removed the gun from your mouth in one quick motion. He cupped your chin in his hand and slid the muzzle up, up, up along the curve of your cheeks until he reached your temple, the heat from your mouth ebbing away until you flinched at the cold press.

Vash closed his eyes and hissed a slow, steady breath between his teeth. You felt the length of his cock pulse against your stomach, as long and solid as the weapon. Without opening his eyes, he whispered again, “I’ve got you, Mayfly.”

Your whole world narrowed to the two touches of metal: his hand on your chin and the gun to your head. Life and death. Your breath came in shaky pants, your pulse ticking wildly in your neck.

He captured your lips in a deep, loving kiss, stealing the little air you had left. Vash held you close, tracing your lower lip with his tongue, asking to go further. You obliged, parting your swollen lips, and his tongue eagerly explored your mouth. No matter how many times he had kissed you, the man always made it feel like the first.

The revolver caressed your temple, brutal where Vash was adoring. The combination left you helpless. He broke the kiss and panted against your skin, pressing aftershock kisses along your jaw.

He dragged the gun down your face again, drifting over your neck and down your chest. He deftly unbuttoned your shirt as he did so, tracing each inch of skin he exposed.

You squirmed underneath him, arching your back at the teasingly slow motion. Spit-wet and cool again, the metal left goosebumps in its wake.

Vash hooked his fingers in the waistband of your pants, tugging softly as he looked at you with those big bright eyes.

You laughed breathlessly. “Yes, you can take them off.” He slipped your pants down your waist, letting them fall at your ankles. His revolver was close behind, brushing across your mound and nestling between your legs.

You groaned, your head falling back as he dragged it between your lips, collecting your dripping arousal.

“I want you to cum on my gun, Mayfly.” Vash’s voice was steel and starlight, and you melted for him.

“Y-yes, oh please…” you bucked your hips frantically, heat licking up your thighs. The gunslinger’s laugh trickled down your spine.

You reached for him desperately, twining your fingers in his hair. He inclined his head with a happy little hum to let you clutch him closer. “Good girl.”

Vash’s cheeks were dusted pink at the dirty talk as he tucked the gun deeper between your legs. The sudden pressure ripped a moan from you, and Vash held it down harder. “That’s it baby….fuck yourself on it.” The tips of his ears went red even as the command hurled you closer to the edge.

You pushed yourself against the barrel, rocking your hips back and forth with a lewd, wet noise as your wetness spread over the surface again. Each pass of the weapon in his steady hand brought you closer and closer.

Vash suddenly tilted the revolver up so the front sight pressed into your clit. You cried out into his chest, the metal tip hitting your sweet spot again and again as he worked you over with it. His eyes shone as he watched you fall into your orgasm, moaning his name and wriggling shamelessly on the tip of his gun.

“Vash, oh fuck Vash…” you whimpered, slumping into his arms as you rode out the high. He grinned at you, then pulled up the gun to show you what you’d done.

“Messy little Mayfly,” he teased, kissing the cum-soaked muzzle. He licked the barrel like a lollipop. “Mmm messy, delicious Mayfly.”

Too spent to resist the teasing, you just smiled back at him. “Sorry baby, I’ll give it a proper clean later. As a thank-you.”

The Humanoid Typhoon gasped and put a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I’d never make you do such a thing. I’m a gentleman.” A smirk crept over his face. “Besides, now that I know this new interest of yours, I’ve got lots more ideas.”

The night was just beginning.

[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.

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear - Masterpost

Ongoing Series — Updates Saturday’s

“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

*~*~*~*~*

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🫡]

[terrifiedlimechime]

🎀🍎⋆𝓡𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓸𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓵𝓮⋆📻🎀

(1,178 words of another fanfic i will never finish <3)

being the king of hell sounded like a non-stop, action packed job to lucifer, at first. surely, he would be too busy to feel extreme guilt for creating sin. thousands of millennia into the position, and he had become acquainted with the fact that it wasn't action packed. it was just sad.

he assumed all his brothers despised him. they had never made contact with him in the thousands of millennia he had been cast away. adam hated him with a passion he had never seen before, being dubbed wife-stealer, and worthless scrap of shit. although he was surrounded by billions of earths finest vermin, and with more responsibilities than heaven would have ever trusted him with, he had never felt so alone.

he had spent most of his royal life alone. lilith had left him. all he had left was charlie, until he met him. but maybe it was foolish to move on, considering he sacrificed the goodness of mankind for lilith. charlie had inherited all the best parts of her parents. lilith's fierce independence and urge for freedom, his resolve to do what was right. and so she channelled the goodness, kindness and compassion of the world into something of her own. the hazbin hotel.

that was where he was now. sitting on a bar stool that was sure to topple over eventually. the bartender was good at sarcasm, and chatting up that spider demon, but he didn't make a half bad margarita, either. they spoke about lots of things, not meaningful, but not trivial things. and there was a certain trivial demon stalking the halls. evil, crazy, and just a little bit attractive.

of course..he wasn't…into him. they had…done it before. obviously, with no strings attached…so it didn't count.

alastor sat down beside lucifer. he knew he was overwhelmed. he was feeling the same. being a hotelier anywhere was stressful, let alone in hell. maybe, just maybe, him and his buddy could…blow off steam. lucifer shuddered. alastor had wordlessly tapped him on the shoulder and gestured towards the bedroom. in public. did he have brain damage? "are you sure?" lucifer murmured excitedly, leaning over on to his shoulder to whisper in his ear. alastor mumbled, "oui, bien sûr," and lead him down the long, hotel corridors. lucifer blushed beet-red, as he always did when he rolled his r's.

angel dust appeared behind husk. "what's gotcha lookin' so worked up, whiskas?" the spider grinned. "i've never seen boss let anyone that powerful anywhere near him, let alone allow them to fucking whisper in his ear," replied husk with a tinge of astonishment in his voice.

"are they fuckin'?"

"oh, yeah, absolutely."

alastor pulled lucifer forward like a rag doll. though known for his charisma and charm, the radio demon was no expert in romancing, so he oft made up for it in…love making. lucifer, perpetually busy being a royal trash-fire, was more than happy to lie back and let alastor take control. why not admit it? being spoilt like a brat was fun. bringing him into the bedroom, alastor twirled the king around, as if he was a ballroom dancer. the cheshire grin on his face was intoxicating, and lucifer wanted his face between his thighs. alastor leaned against the door frame, clearly thinking of his…plans for the king. lying on the bed like a pornstar, lucifer smiled amusedly. "i hope you're not scheming over there, bambi."

"i wouldn't dream of it, my lordship," he replied smugly.

that was his kryptonite. nicknames. an all-powerful king with a praise kink. lucifer flushed deeply, and stood up. he was flustered, and bitterly frustrated. but he was 'his lordship',and he would not be outdone. lucifer pulled alastor in for a passionate kiss, their tounges intertwined, his back arched. slowly, lucifer manoeuvred him toward the bed, their tounges in a endless dance for dominance, lucifer's claiming victory. after all, they didn't call it the devil's tango for nothing.

pushing him onto the bed, alastor made a face of mock fear. "what are you doing to me tonight, my malevolent fellow?" he said in a sing-song voice. lucifer laughed, and hitched himself around the deer's waist. "close your eyes, alastor," purred the angel. alastor had expected some gorgeous, romantic and erotic gesture. instead, he was met with a pillow to the face.

"i-am-your-KING-you-should-respect-and-fear-me!" said lucifer in a jokingly serious voice through the thumps of his pillow-attack. "mhm! mmmmmMMHM!!!" alastor yelled through the pillow. "speak up, ya BITCH," lucifer laughed. wriggling free from his grasp, alastor rolled over, ending up on top. "you, are going to pay for that, lucifer!" alastor teased. he kissed him again, this time in control. his senses felt heightened, and he noticed everything about the king. the way he anchored his legs around his waist, the way he pulled him closer as they kissed, and the way he tugged needily on his shirt collar.

nipping at lucifer's neck coyly, alastor unbuttoned his shirt with an unrivalled expertise. the angel thought back to when the radio demon had first came to him. love making had been uncharted waters, and alastor wanted to learn to navigate them. being a teacher of all things erotic meant that the pair knew eachother like the back of their hands. when ever their eyes meet, just fleeting glances across the hotel lobby, the sexual tension in the room grew thick enough to cut with a knife. they had tried anything and everything, and they fit together like clockwork.

feeling alastor slip his shirt of in one, brisk movement, lucifer looked up at him. hd noticed the fabric near the deer's groin was bulging significantly. he hovered his fingertips over the spot. "may i?" he whispered. "please." alastor whimpered, nuzzling into his neck. his fingers caressed the tent of fabric, back, and forth, and back again. a soft groan escaped alastor, encouraging lucifer. he pulled him closer, kissing him confidently as he stroked. "lucifer, you are quite the specimen," alastor chuckled. "i suppose so," said lucifer, lowering himself. alastor took the initiative and sat up near the edge of the bed.

lucifer parted his lovers knees slowly, stroking the sides of alastor's thighs teasingly. he laughed at himself, but alastor was much too desperate to notice the jest in the situation. "gosh, is that a microphone in you pocket or are you just excited to see me?"

"lucifer…"

"*i think i better check, in case it needs to be *taken care of*."

"lucifer." alastor groaned slightly at the feel of his breath. "please. just do something, anything."

lucifer kissed the tip of the bulge gently, producing a shudder from alastor. he nipped carefully at the fabric of his trousers, trying irritate him before giving into to his demands. alastor pulled at his hair. "LUCIFER." alastor's annoyance manifested into angry static, and lucifer bent to his will. he manoeuvred the belt around his waist off, flinging it blindly behind him, and unzipped his trousers with his teeth. "oh my, lucifer, you fucking tease," alastor choked out. lucifer grinned.

oh, this was going to be fun.

[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.

My Taglist-- @demodemo909 @immyowndefender @fromforeigntofamiliarity @ghqstfqce

[finnsbubblegum]

will we be getting a javier part 2 ? ☺️

Warnings: fluff, drunk man, lmk if i missed any

A/N: It's been a while since I've written anything, i'm not sure if you're the same anon that sent me a question today, but I received it and I'm on my way writing another joel fanfic (oneshot), thank you for your patience and thankyou for enjoying my work❤️ Hope you like this one!

It was Friday night and you decided to spend an alone time at the bar. You wore a chic but simple short dress just the way you dress elegantly every day. You were alone so you grabbed a seat on the corner table. As you sipped on your alcohol, you felt a stranger's presence near you. You weren’t expecting anyone so you knew it was probably someone you knew or someone drunk trying to hit on you.

“Hey, pretty woman.” A drunk man standing next to you with his wobbly legs.

You scoffed as you rolled your eyes.

“Wanna spend the night with me?” The drunk man grabbed your wrist.

“Excuse me?! Let me go! I don’t know you!” You yelled at him.

Javier Peña's heart raced as he glanced across the dimly lit bar, spotting a scene that immediately caught his attention. A man, clearly intoxicated, was becoming increasingly aggressive towards someone sitting alone at a corner table. Javier's instincts kicked in, and he swiftly made his way through the crowd, his law enforcement training guiding his steps.

"Excuse me, amigo," Javier's voice was firm as he intervened, his presence commanding respect.

The drunk man's eyes widened as he recognized the DEA agent, stumbling back in a mixture of surprise and fear.

"I think it's time for you to call it a night." Javier crossed his arms.

As the tense situation defused, Javier turned to you. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down. You nodded to him to say your thanks, and Javier found himself captivated by your smile.

"Thank you so much for stepping in," you said with genuine appreciation.

"I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come over." You smiled.

"It's all part of the job. Just glad I could help." Javier shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant despite the racing of his heart.

"Well, how about I treat you to dinner? As a way of saying thanks?" You were the type of person who couldn’t take anything for granted.

Javier's surprise was evident on his face as he considered your offer. He hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with doubts. You were attractive, kind, and seemed genuine – everything he wasn't used to. He was used to playing the field, not getting involved in anything serious.You must have noticed his uncertainty because you leaned in closer, your voice was soft but reassuring.

"Hello?" You waved your hand in front of his face.

“Sorry.” Javier came back to his senses, he was too stunned to speak.

“What do you think?” You asked him again.

Javier's defenses began to crumble as he looked into your eyes, seeing sincerity and kindness that he hadn't experienced in a long time.

With a sigh, he gave you a small smile. "Alright, then. I'd like that."

As you exchanged numbers, Javier couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. You were way out of his league, and he was well aware of his reputation as a bit of a womanizer. It was too late at night so you and Javier decided to find another day to have dinner. And Javier insisted on taking you home.

As you continued to talk and laugh, those doubts started to fade away. Maybe, just maybe, this could be something different – a chance at a real connection. And so, Javier Peña, a man used to navigating the dangerous world of drug cartels, found himself facing a different kind of challenge – opening up his heart for real love.

[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

[cinnikiroll]

protecting the protector (dwayne pride x wife! reader)

Summary: Dwayne is shaken up and upset by the recent exposé piece written on him by Oliver Crane and the threats he is facing due to it. You, his loving wife, are there to support him. (Based off of S4E22, sort of a continuation of you'll always be mine but it definitely can stand on its own)

If you like this fic, please do check out my other fanfics on AO3 under the username cinnikiroll. Here is a link to my profile, where I have fics from other fandoms for your viewing pleasure!

It had been a hard, stressful time for the whole NCIS team lately. What with Oliver Crane's recent exposé piece, the whole office was on edge, and the constant presence of protesters outside didn't do much to alleviate the situation.

Dwayne had pretended that he wasn't affected by the whole thing, and he was skilled at acting strong and unfazed, but it was clear to the whole team that he was deeply upset by the way people viewed him now due to this piece. Even if the content in it was true, the way he was portrayed- as a narcissistic, sadistic abuser of power and of people- was killing him.

No matter how many times the team tried to talk to him, he would never open up. Even Loretta, his best friend that could get him to open up about anything at even the worst times, couldn't get him to say how he really felt.

But the team had a secret weapon, one that they used when Dwayne was being unusually reticent. This secret weapon never failed to get him to open up, even regarding his most painful memories.

She was kind, yet incredibly incisive, getting to the heart of any emotional matter with ease and gusto.

She was intelligent, yet not at all cold, her empathy and huge help in emotional situations.

She was you, Dwayne Pride's wife.

All it took was one call from a very concerned Christopher LaSalle for you to begin enacting your foolproof plan to get your husband to open up about anything under the sun.

When Dwayne returned home that night, his concern was immediately piqued when he caught the scent of something burning in the air. He ascended the stairs to his apartment two at a time, drawing his gun to ready himself for anything.

The apartment door was opened a crack, and a sign in your elegant cursive handwriting was hanging on it.

Welcome home, my love.

You had drawn a little heart in the corner, and seeing that detail brought a small smile to his face. He pushed open the door fully, and was absolutely shocked by the state of the apartment.

Scented candles had been placed in the center of the dining table, which was now covered in a scarlet tablecloth. The candles had been placed in a small bowl to prevent any melting wax from dirtying the obviously very fancy tablecloth, and in the wax bowl, red roses had been strewn about.

A bottle of Dwayne's favorite merlot was sitting next to the table's centerpiece, already uncorked and poured into two champagne flutes that he had completely forgotten he owned. Sitting down at the elegantly decorated table, he sipped on the wine and sighed deeply in enjoyment as the soft fruity flavored liquor slid smoothly down his parched throat.

You were working hard in the kitchen and hadn't noticed your husband coming in. Gumbo was not exactly your specialty, it was his, and as such you were working hard to craft a gumbo that was blameless in your virtuoso chef's eyes. The scent of spices mixed with the sweet scent of the candles you'd placed on the table, creating an intoxicating fragrance that made your body feel warm- or was that just the gumbo you were stirring?

Hearing Dwayne clear his throat softly, you leapt a little in fear before turning around with a bright and sweet smile on your face. You looked so charmingly domestic, standing there in your apron and holding a wooden spoon stained with food, that he had to physically hold himself back from leaping on you and showering you with kisses.

"My love! You're back. Hard day at work?"

Upon your mention of work, Dwayne's face fell. You cursed yourself for mentioning something that caused him pain, and rapidly rushed to his side, leaving the gumbo that you had been painstakingly slaving over unattended in its pot.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, pulling a chair over to sit directly across from him and caress his warm cheeks.

"I didn't mean to bring up painful feelings. I just-"

You cut yourself off partly through the sentence, noticing a slight discoloration on Dwayne's lower jaw. It was only slight, barely noticeable in the flickering candlelight, but it was there, and his body stiffened when your fingers gently touched it. That stiffening was a sign of pain, meaning that the discoloration had to be a bruise.

Recalling what Christopher had told you regarding the rioters outside of NCIS headquarters, the brick with the death wish thrown at Dwayne's SUV, and now seeing the bruise on his jaw brought tears to your eyes.

"What happened to you?"

You managed to rasp out, your voice a weak whisper.

Dwayne took your probing hand with his, placing it down on his lap. His gray-blue eyes were soft and tender as he spoke to you with all the love he could muster.

"Love, don't worry. It was just a little fight in Clearwater. Nothing serious."

He was trying to calm you down, but you could clearly tell from the tension in his body and the slight wavering in his voice that it had been more than that, that he was deeply upset about something but didn't know how- or didn't want to- open up about what that thing was.

"A fight?!"

Your eyes widened in shock, and you quickly resumed your probing touches, attempting to ascertain whether or not he had sustained any more injuries during the fight.

"A group of guys-"

"A group?!"

Your anxiety was widening by the minute with every word Dwayne said.

A fight?!

With a group of men attacking him?!

He was lucky he only got a few cuts and bruises! He could've died!

Oh God... you could've lost your husband!

Seeing the pain in Dwayne's eyes and the way he was desperately attempting to comfort you, you gulped down any other exclamations you may have uttered and stilled your trembling hands. Once you had sufficiently relaxed yourself, you asked the introductory question to this interrogation you'd be giving.

"Why did you go to Clearwater?"

Dwayne's body stiffened further, his mind racing with expectations about where this conversation was going to lead.

He did have lots of pent up emotions that he needed to express, it was true, and he got the sense that this was one of your many interrogations you planned when you needed to get him to open up about his feelings.

While he didn't have anything against these interrogations- in fact, he enjoyed them, as they helped him get his emotions out- the vitriol he felt towards Oliver Crane and the source that had provided him with the information needed to vilify his good name was intense. He didn't want to let it out, lest it harm him or you in the process.

But seeing the concern in your eyes and the effort you had gone to in an attempt to make him comfortable and pleased, he knew that it would be best to open up to you.

It always was best to be honest with you, he acknowledged begrudgingly.

Taking a deep breath, he proceeded to let out all his feelings regarding this current situation.

--------------------------------------------------------------

"It just makes me feel like I maybe am the villain they all say I am, you know? I mean, I'm the reason why so many people are dead, I go off half cocked, I-"

Dwayne's voice softened and tears began to form in his eyes as he finished his sentence.

"I'm a pitiful excuse for a federal agent."

Breathing shakily with held back emotions, you helped him over to the bed and sat down next to him there, letting him hold you and cry to his heart's content.

The tears began to fall down like his cheeks like rain from his cloudy sky eyes. He held you tightly against him, burying his face in your hair.

His grip on your body was strong, bordering on painful as he dug his strong calloused fingers into your back as if you were the only anchor for him in the stormy sea of his self doubt. Choosing not to comment on the pain his grip was causing you, you just let him hold you and let all his pent up emotions out.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in a hoarse, husky voice.

"I shouldn't be burdening you with this. I should be strong... I-"

You silenced his self deprecating comments with a soft kiss on the lips.

"I'm your wife. If you can't be open with me, who can you be open with?"

Dwayne sniffled pitifully, as if he was a small child having a meltdown. You brought him a box of tissues, and he very quickly used up a miniature mountain of them.

"I'm supposed to be strong, to protect you! But it turns out-" he punctuated his sentence with another sniffle and blowing his nose- "that you're the one protecting me. How ironic. I can't even do the job of a husband properly. I really am pathetic..."

He trailed off sadly, staring away into the distance and not looking at your face. Thoughts of self hatred were haunting him, only magnified by the memories of the harsh words used to describe him in the recent exposé.

Dwayne truly felt like a failure in this moment, and no matter how many kind words were said to him or how often he was reminded he wasn't, he still felt the same way.

He wanted so badly to love himself like you loved him. But he was certain that was impossible.

There was no way he could ever matter to himself as much as he mattered to you.

He didn't even deserve that...

"Darlin'?"

He whispered in a barely audible voice.

"Dwayne?"

Your voice was full of concern, snapping him back to reality.

Turning to look at you, he saw tears in your eyes, evidently brought on by his long period of being lost in memories. He wanted to reach out and touch you, to hold you close and tell you he loved you so much, that he needed you desperately, more than he needed oxygen to breathe.

But he couldn't. He didn't deserve that love. He didn't deserve you.

"Nothing..."

Dwayne whispered softly, his voice broken with pain and self hatred.

You clung to him tightly, kissing him and holding him. The gentle cadence of your whispering voice and tender touches of your skin against his slowly began to calm him down, and before long, he had curled up in your lap like a docile, sleepy maine coon cat.

Softly, slowly, silently, your fingers caressed his unkempt hair, calming him down even more and banishing any remnants of self hatred within his mind. Like wisps of mist, they dissipated, leaving only the calm lake of love behind.

It had taken longer than usual, but you had succeeded again in helping him open up about and banish his painful emotions. Opening his sleepy gray blue eyes, he looked up at you with a great deal of love in his expression.

"I love you more than anything, darlin'."

He murmured, kissing you sloppily on the cheek.

You smiled your first genuine smile in a while and kissed him back.

"I love you too, my darling. I'll always be here to protect you and comfort you. Always."