#is just sounds insane and i was not expecting it despite my fucking obsession with understanding wtf my deal is

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[lavendermin]

Your Jing Yuan breeding kink hcs saved me, thank you, thank you (I too, want to be pampered and taken care of by Xianzhou Luofu's kind, handsome and strong general without having to think about paying taxes or rent)

Jing yuan breeding kink brainworms going crazy chewing on my brain cables to make me short circuit. ANON IM GOING INSANE. Just thinking about him again made me black out as I wrote this whole thing. It was supposed to be a simple short answer but well… here we are…

—

Jing Yuan, your sweet and delightful husband who discovers his breeding kink (perhaps even a pregnancy kink, the night is young and we’re all insane here). It starts off innocently and then slowly trickles into a little obsession— sexually repressed old man who is centuries old discovers kinks! Wow!

cw | smut, minors dni, breeding kink, pregnancy, just jing yuan discovering his nasty side idk what to tell you

There are a few colleagues around who are in some stage of their pregnancy and soon headed into maternity leave. Being the general, of course he has extended his congratulations and well wishes to them before they’re off for a few months. The ladies in turn cannot help but prod if he has children of his own.

Surely, it should be well-known fact… maybe? He is quite the private man despite his high ranking position. No one aside from a very few select individuals even knew of you being his wife for the longest time. Never even knew the General was dating anyone.

So they can’t help but be curious, “General you must know what it’s like. Haven’t you children of your own by now with your spouse?”

He only smiles and chuckles fondly. The first seed of want, now firmly planted in his subconscious. Oh how the expecting mothers dote on him and say his children surely must look like the spitting image of him. All fluffy, silvery hair and kind eyes (Do they assume he’s the only one making them? What about your genes?). And he has to unfortunately let them down with amused, gentle smiles that, no, he has not had children.

Yet, some part of him whispers. A part that lays dormant for now.

The seed of desire takes root when he’s home with you and you’re fussing lightheartedly over Yanqing’s attire. Worrying over the young boy being out too late and skipping lunch. He wonders when it became so natural for you to fall into step as a mother-figure for his retainer. In little things, he notes. It’s not outright but it’s enough to make him pause and take it in. Chew it and over think it— let it linger in the back of his throat like the burn from a fine drink.

A mother… The thought is fleeting— a whisper unheard and carried with the breeze as Jing Yuan idles next to you in the gardens of his home.

Those next coming nights, for weeks on end, Jing Yuan is plagued with dreams of pressing himself deep within you. He fills your womb, whispering praise and prayer to your ear as he desperately begs you to bear his children. It’s something so carnal and raw and desperate he wakes up with a start, body drenched in a sheen of sweat and a throbbing erection. He’s panting lightly, having to go to the bathroom to sort out his little… problem in the middle of the night while you’re sound asleep, none the wiser to your husband’s evolving desires.

He doesn’t know what’s more torturous— closing his eyes and dreaming of breeding you until you’re both incoherent or looking at you while you sleep, daydreaming of your soft belly rounding out as the months ago by. Hips soft and just noticeably wider, breasts plump and full, and you’re glowing and–

Aeons, he’s hard again for the 3rd time that night.

The general, respected and composed and perfect, coming undone—untouched—at the thought of you having children with him. Part of him is a little distraught but, he thinks, he just loves his wife that much.

And he’s not wrong.

When he has you gasping and begging for release under him on the rare occasion he has time to love you how he wants, it devolves into fucking you into the mattress with a wild look in his eyes. Honeyed gaze watching you plead and fall apart under him as he now practically has you folded in half, his large hands sinking into the plush of your thighs as he presses them to your chest.

Usually he opts for pulling out and finishing on your tummy, but that night it’s like the aeons are working against him (or maybe with him? Lan the wing man, who knows). You’re begging and clawing at his back as he pounds into you approaching his climax— pleading and slurring your words of please please please Yuan inside– I want– I want it inside please please hurry h-harder please!

You’re playing with the thin strand of sanity he has left. Any semblance of decorum and gentle, vanilla husband is not worth it if it’s keeping your womb empty. But Jing Yuan will spoil his wife always and foremost. If it’s what his wife wants, he won’t hold back.

[lavandulawrites]

Absconditus

Yandere Mello x reader

I’m rewatching Death Note and god I love Mello so much<3 this took longer than what I expected because I was busy and had a writers block. Please send me some Death Note requests<3 (I’m currently obsessed with death note)

Masterlist

Synopsis: Mello decides to take you for himself.

Warnings: abduction, drugging, breaking and entering, Mello is insane (for you<3), he blows up your fucking house

Word count: 1122

Your flat was dark and empty. Just like it was when you left for work. Despite that something felt of. You let your eyes scan the open space and to the bathroom door and to the bedroom door. Nothing seemed unusual, still you couldn’t shake of the feeling that something was not right.

You flicked on the light switch to the lamp that hung over your coffee table. It was old and glass stained in beautiful greens. You sat your purse down with a tump on the dark table. Your shoulder ached and you groaned as you massaged it.

Suddenly you could see movements in your peripheral vision. It was sudden before it stilled. Your heart beat quickened and it felt like it was going to burst out of your rib cage.

You slowly lifted your head and the sight before you made you let out a startled yelp. Right there on one of your dining table chair sat Mello. The light you had lit wasn’t quite enough to properly light up the dining area, causing his beautiful features to be casted in a shadow, despite this you could clearly his piercing blue eyes staring into your soul. His legs were spread in a nonchalant way and his hands were deep in his pockets of his flared low-rise leather pants. He was dressed in all black with a leather vest which was a little bit cropped so you could see his skin. He hadn’t bothered to take of his heeled boots.

He tilted his head slightly at your little sound. “Did I scare you?” his low voice broke the silence. You could hear his smirk more than you could see it.

“What are you doing here…?” you asked with a shaky voice. You wanted to scream, run, but your feet were frozen onto the worn wooden floor and you couldn’t advert your eyes from his no matter how heard you tried. It was like you were in a trance. This must be how a deer feels like in front of the endless jaws of a hungry wolf.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” his voice challenging.

“Please get out of my house” you straightened your back at you sudden confidence.

He stilled in his movements. Multiple heartbeats past before he slowly rose up from the chair. With his head lowered slightly, he stalked towards you like a ravenous dog.

Your legs hit the sofa resulting in you plumping down. His hand flowed hand reached out and played with a stand of your hair. “I am here to take what’s mine” his voice low, but determined.

Your mount turned dry as you stared up into his eyes. Despite his marred skin, he was absolutely ethereal. You wanted to say something, to scream or run, but you were completely frozen.

He straightened his back before he turned around and walked towards the dining table. He rummaged through a bag that was sat on top of one of the chairs. He turned around to face you with a gas mask in hand.

You furrowed your eyes in confusion at the mask, which earned you a soft chuckle.

His right hand slipped into his pant pocket and pulled out a detonator. “You don’t need anyone else than me. Is that understood?” his voice was harsh and frighting.

He pressed his thumb down on the button of the detonator. A hissing sound could be heard from around the flat and as you let your eyes dart across the room you could see grey smoke coming out from underneath your bookshelf.

You stood up as fast as you could and when you turned to look at the blond man he was wearing the gas mask. “What are you doing?” your voice small.

Your eyelids started to feel heavy and breathing became difficult. You stumbled forward. If it wasn’t for strong arms supporting you, you would have fell head first into the wooden floor.

“Shusssh I got you” he whispered into your ear through his mask. The last thing you saw before your visit turned black was his eyes through the plastic of the mask. They were filled with love, possession and insanity.

You had no idea how long you had been asleep when you slowly woke up. The bed was comfortable, but unfamiliar. The ceiling was white instead of blue and to your right were a window were it should be the bedroom door. You weren’t home. Panic filled your senses as you sat up in a quick motion. You groaned as a sudden ache formed in your head. You clutched your hand against your forehead as your thoughts ran through the last things you remembered.

The sound of candy wrap snapped you out of your thoughts. To your left sat Mello on a light pink arm chair with flower motifs. He looked extremely out of place. He took a bite of the dark chocolate in his hand while staring you down with his blue intense eyes.

“How are you feeling?” his dark voice pleasant and oddly comforting giving the circumstances.

“Where am I? What happened? What did you do, Mello?” your questions running out.

He sighed, expecting your answer. “You are in a safe house. That’s all you need to know. As for what happened” he took another bite of his chocolate and chewed slowly as if he wanted to toy with you.

“I sat off a gas that works as sleeping has and at the same time can be the cause of gas leaks/explosions in homes” he shrugged. “It’s not dangerous as I got you out rather quickly. As for your flat… Well you won’t ever return there so it doesn’t really matter, does it?” he smirked.

“What the fuck Mello?! Are you insane?!” you screamed at the blond man.

His face soured. “Maybe I am. It’s your fault really. Running around without even looking twice over the shoulder” he leaned forward. “Do you understand how dangerous it is? What if something happens to you? What if someone frames you for something you haven’t done and Kira kills you?! Then what?” his jaw clenched in anger.

“I am doing this to protect you! Why don’t you understand?! I love you so much that it hurts! I have never felt that way before and I don’t want to lose you” he rose up and clutched your hand to the point it hurt.

“Please… please corporate. I promise you I will protect you. This safe house isn’t forever, it’s only till things have calmed down. Okay?” a hand gently stroked your cheek.

He wrapped his hands around you and held you in a tight embrace. “ I love you and I will never stop loving you. Ever.”

[tojisbbygworl]

Before I Let Go - Yandere!Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: A grieving woman comes face to face with her thought to be deceased husband and can't find it in her to care about how wrong this was. She missed him. So much.

WARNINGS: Thoughts of Suicide, Suicide Attempt

Words: 4,994

Tags: 18+, 3rd person, Angst, Emotional Smut, Desperation, Grief/Mourning, Yandere, Spying, Kidnapping, Minimal Spanish terms of endearment

author's note: hey y'all. I have another fic for you. I am so glad I finished it it's been sitting in my drafts for a minute. The yandere part of this isn't violent although there is some slight physical pain put on the reader during sex. Just a mention of choking and scratching it's not bad. It's more obsession if anything. Also, I wasn't even gonna try with the Spanish girl. The most he says is carina and hermosa and I know y'all are sick of seeing that atp. I barely even tried with the British for Hobie I'm not about to embarrass myself LMAO

I hope this makes y'all sad honestly I feel like I could have made it sadder but I'm still very happy with it. Anyway, enjoy! 🩵

AO3 version

My AO3

Masterlist

The buzzing sound of a phone call is all that can be heard in the apartment. It has been a week since the funeral, and Y/N O’Hara hasn’t said a single word. She doesn't even remember what her voice sounds like.

Miguel O'Hara was everything to her. He meant the entire world. She would do anything he asked, but he never asked for much. All he wanted was her love. She was the same with him. A perfect partnership. She felt like she was on top of the universe. And then it was taken away from her. In a fucking car crash, no less.

He was the smartest person she knew. He was the head geneticist at Alchemax after all. He wasn't a stupid driver. No. It was the other driver's fault. But what could she do about it? It was just a kid. A teenager that had just gotten their license, but hadn't taken official driving lessons; no one really drilled into them the severity of texting while driving. How could she really blame them? How could she press charges? Miguel always told her that she was too forgiving. Too understanding.

He was right. But...she also couldn't help but to think it wasn't fair. That her beautiful husband had to die from their actions, and all they had to deal with was an insane insurance increase and a fucked up car that their parents were bound to replace. She would give anything to trade consequences. Anything.

Almost two months since his death, she's been wandering around her apartment frequenting the most common places she and Miguel would cuddle in. She always had a shared blanket, one of his shirts, or a pillow that had his hair on it to squeeze and cry into. If she sprayed it with his cologne and shut her eyes really tight, she could almost imagine he really was there. Almost.

These objects could never replace him. She missed his warmth. She missed his chest pushing her head up and down from his breathing. It would rumble when he chuckled. His hands were so large that her entire back would heat up when he held her gently. He was so tall, 6'6 to be exact, he would completely engulf her whenever they embraced. She felt so safe in his arms. She doesn't feel safe anymore.

Nearly two months of hunching over on the floor of her apartment in pain. She wailed into the ground. Coughing and scratching whatever she could hold onto, because the pain was too much to bare. Oh, the pain. She wouldn't wish this kind of heartbreak on anyone or anything.

The apartment was large, courtesy of his checks. He could already afford it on his own, then, the both of them married just a few years ago and he didn't expect her to pay a dime, despite how much she insisted. Instead, she bought food and handled upkeep. If it got too expensive, then he would chip in. She would have to move out eventually, his remaining income and life insurance the only thing keeping her afloat. Just another thing that she can’t fathom.

It was 3 bed, 2 bath. One was their bedroom, the other was his office, she's been going in there a lot as well, and they always wondered what they would do with the last room. For so long, it was empty even before she moved in with him. He never knew what he could use it for. He had hoped that she would turn it into a hobby room, she loved to paint and she played the violin a little, but there was a beautiful terrace attached to the apartment that she opted for instead and she insisted the living room had the best acoustics so the room remained a mystery. Until last year, when he dropped a bomb on her.

It was an extremely average day for the both of them. They were both home from work, nothing interesting to report, and were deciding what to eat for dinner. She suggests something they could cook, and he agrees. As the night goes on, something seems off about Miguel. He's quiet and zoning out a lot. Something has to be on his mind, right?

"Babe," she calls for him snapping him out of his trance.

"Hm?"

"Everything alright?" She puts her hand on his shoulders and gives him a worried look. Miguel swallows his spit then turns towards her grabbing her hand and placing his on her waist.

"I've been thinking..." His voice is small. She starts to grow anxious as she had never seen him look so timid. He was more nervous than when he asked her to marry him.

"W-What is it?" She stutters. He kisses her knuckles.

"It's just something that I've been wanting for a while now. And if you don't, then It's completely fine. I care about your happiness above everything."

"Miguel, stop being so cryptic and tell me what's up," She half jokes.

He nervously bites his lips and looks away. Then, taking a deep breath, he looks into her eyes and says, "I want to have a kid."

She felt it was best to pretend the work-in-progress nursery didn't exist. In her mind, the room is still empty. There wasn’t a crib set up. The walls weren't in the process of being painted. They didn't have arguments about what to put on it because they didn't know the gender. In fact, gender of what? They weren't planning for a baby. The third room is as empty as she is.

The both of them were foolish, deciding to get everything set up before she got pregnant instead of winging it like everyone else. She should have winged it. Then maybe she would still have a piece of him with her.

It was so fucking hard to focus on what mattered. She was hanging on a thread that thinned out every single day. Before the funeral, she wondered what would be her breaking point? The point where she finally got up and decided to keep going.

The weather was very fitting for that day. The sun was gone, and the rain came in waves. Her tears, however, never stopped. It was a stupid decision to make it open casket. She gazed upon his resting face for the first time since he died in the hospital then turned and ran to the nearest bathroom to empty her stomach. She hadn’t even gotten to say her speech; Miguel’s mother read for her instead.

Something inside her snapped. Sometimes the pain is a dull ache in her chest, and she’s numb everywhere else. Other times it’s a sharp twang that she can feel in her back. She has to lay or sit down when that happens. Sometimes it courses through her entire upper body and she can’t even move. But this…this stabbing, twisting, and searing pain that ripples through her heart and travels to the tip of her fingers and toes…she hasn’t felt this before.

This was the breaking point, but it did the opposite. She didn’t talk for the rest of the day, her and his family begging her to stay with them. She didn’t listen.

It was nights like tonight that she felt completely alone. She knew she wasn’t, if she just picked up the phone and texted someone, then maybe she would be okay. She just needed to stop looking at the ceiling, turn to her nightstand, pick up her phone, and call her mother. But it was 1 in the morning, and Miguel looked so happy in her lock screen picture…

Her and Miguel had been up here on the top of the apartment building so many times before. They liked to dance, he would watch her play or paint, they had picnics together, it was perfect when they wanted to get out of the apartment, but still have some privacy.

The view was nice. They could see across the entirety of Nueva York. Central Park in the fall was especially amazing to gaze upon. But now it fills her with grief. As she steps on top of the edge, she decides that if this couldn’t make her feel better, then nothing could.

She’s glad she’s doing this in the middle of the night, where no one could see her and call for help. She was sure that she would traumatize a couple people when morning came, a problem that she couldn’t be bothered by. She was ready to be back in his arms. So she walked off. And closed her eyes as she plummeted through the air.

She’s scared. But excited. She only has to feel excruciating pain for a second and then never again. It’s almost over.

She hits something, or more so, something hits her. She’s still flying through the air, but it’s different now. There’s a warm body holding onto her for dear life, and she’s soaring upwards into the night sky. Opening her eyes to gaze at her savior, she sees a masked silhouette. It-it’s Spider-Man…but he looks completely different. She can barely see him, the only source of light being the moon, but she could swear that this wasn’t his mask.

They land on the rooftop again and he puts her down. She crawls away from him, embarrassed and ashamed at what she’s done. She was still alive and now she was in more pain than ever before. Wailing on the floor, she glared up at him in vitriol.

“Why did you save me?” She yelled, her voice powerful for a woman who hadn’t been verbal for a week. Spider-Man didn’t answer. She wasn’t even sure if he was looking at her. “I didn’t want to be saved.” Still, he said nothing. So she continued to cry, and she cried harder and harder until she felt a sensation on her back.

He was trying to comfort her, but when she turned he backed off, holding his hands up instead. Her lips quivered, then she threw herself into his arms. His hold on her body was snug and comforting. Her anger for him dissipates immediately as she accepts his affection. For the first time in a while, she felt safe. She didn’t want him to let go.

And he didn’t. He stayed until she fell asleep in his arms. Then, he picked her up, gazing upon her peaceful face with the light from the inter dimensional portal, then walked into it with no intention of coming back.

~

This wasn’t her room.

She sat up in the bed and took in her surroundings. These weren’t her sheets, that wasn’t her wallpaper, the blinds were different, the floor wasn’t carpeted, everything even the floor plan of the room was different. This isn’t her home.

Her heart begins to pound. Where was she? She was still in her clothes, but that’s the only comfort that she had. Immediately, she shoots out of the bed, the comforter tangling in her feet making her fall onto the floor. The large thump that her fall makes scares her. She stays on the floor, still and quiet as a mouse. There's no noise for a couple seconds. Then, the sound of someone walking.

She hyperventilates, quickly removing herself from the blanket and standing up. But she realizes that she has no where to go. There's a small closet in the room, and space under the bed, but those the only hiding spaces she can think of. And the footsteps were getting closer. What can she do, she wonders as she backs into the wall.

The door swings open. And her heart stops.

Miguel stared at his wife's variant in concern and turns on the light. The woman blinks and shields her eyes, but the bewildered look that she sported quickly comes back. "What happened?"

When he spoke, she gasped and took another step back. She smacked her hand over her mouth. Her eyes glistened with tears, her breath shuddered. "You're alright?" Miguel asked her again. She didn't answer.

For what felt like the longest time, they just stared at each other. He was afraid of approaching her thinking he may scare her away. She was in completely disbelief at what she was seeing. Miguel raised his hands and stayed near the door way. "Please, don't freak out," he began.

She let out a sob, tears escaping her eyes when she did. Placing her hand on her chest, she lifts herself from the wall. Miguel takes this as a sign to keep going.

"I know you must be confused. You're probably upset and angry. I understand." She took a step forward. "But if you would just left me explain..." Another step. Then another. And another. And she held her hand out in front of her. As she approached him, he realized how badly she was trembling, and it only got worse the closer she got. But still, she moved forward.

The speech Miguel had been practicing before she woke up died in his throat. He was speechless as he watched her courageously close the space between them. When she finally stood right in front of him, she hesitated. He could hear her soft gasps and cries. Then finally, she softly touched his chest. He looked down at her hand, then up at her face. Even though she was crying profusely, she looked upon him in wonder. He just wants to reach out and grab her, but he holds himself back.

She begins to rub his chest and torso, appalled by his presence. He looks back down at her hands. Then, they trail themselves up to his neck, stopping right under his chin. He lifts his head up. They both hold their breath for a second. Then, with a gasp from her, and a sigh from him, she finally touches his cheek. Miguel closes his eyes and leans into her palm. He lifts his arm up, and encases her hand in his, keeping it in place.

Her lips begin to move. With a tiny shaky breath, she whispers, "It's you."

Miguel's face is troubled. He has a small frown and his eyebrows were upturned. He twists his head in her palm to give it a small kiss.

Her eyes flicker all over his body. It is him...but he's different. He's taller now. His build is thicker and he feels tense. Miguel was a gym buff, but this man...this kind of definition is not built in the gym. His frown is deep, and so are his wrinkles. His eyes were more troubled than hers, and had the slightest hint of red. And his teeth...she could feel his sharp canines with her thumb.

"No," she realizes. "It's not you."

Miguel opens his eyes and stares at her. He can see the fear growing on her face, and he starts to panic. He moves his hand to her wrist to hold it gently. But he's prepared to squeeze it if she tries to run. "I'm not him. But-"

"But you look like him." She continues, her voice on the precipice of hysteria. "And you sound like him." She holds both of his cheeks and caresses his face with her thumbs. "And you feel like him..."

Miguel winces as he watches her cry louder and louder with every observation. "Cariña, please," He takes her hands off of his face and kisses her knuckles. She completely breaks down crying. Miguel reaches his arms out, and she throws herself into his chest, sobbing into his neck. "You don't have to cry anymore. I'm here now."

"But who are you?" Her voice muffled by his shoulder.

He gulps. "...I am Miguel, but-"

"But you're not my Miguel, are you?" She lifts her head up to stare at him. She looked anguished, her brain not being able to process what was going on. He doesn't answer. "Did you save me?" He nodded. "Why?"

"I had to, baby. I-"

"Where did you come from?" She pushes herself off of him, and Miguel can't find it in him to hold her there. He let's go of her, knowing that there is no where she can really run where he won't find her. "No, where have you been?"

He furrows his brows and tilts his head. "What?"

"Where the hell have you been?" She screams at him in unbridled rage. Her tears were never ending, and her glare was fierce. "I was in fucking agony when you died. I couldn't live with myself. I couldn't get over you. I didn't want to. I missed you so much." Her anger turned into desperation and she falls to her knees on the floor, weeping into her hands. Miguel looks on in desolation, his eyes filling with tears as well. He walks to her and leans down, trying to get her to stand. She flips her head up at him. "Who are you?"

"Please, let me explain." He sits on the floor with her, holds her face and leans into it. She doesn't pull away, instead, she kisses him first, her cries never ending. Her hands tangle themselves in his hair. Miguel wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her into him. He sits back and pulls her into his lap.

The kiss lasts until they run out of breath, then they pull away, panting in each others' faces. "I...am Miguel." He starts. "But not your Miguel. And you are not my Y/N."

She shakes her head and scrunches up her face. "Just listen." Her mouth closes again, and she relaxes preparing herself to take in every word he says...

...Miguel spent a lot of time watching her. His Y/N, across the multiverse. In each one, they are together. It's fate. And in every one...she dies. No matter what that universe's Miguel does, she dies. That must be fate, too. Then he found a universe where that didn't happen. He died instead. He took a chance, and when he replaced himself he was the happiest he had ever been. And then everything was destroyed. An entire universe...gone. He swore to never interfere with fate again. He whispered a soft 'sorry' to every Miguel he found after that.

He saw her, Y/N on Earth - 548. Happy as ever with her devilishly handsome husband. He felt for him. He had no idea the heartbreak he was about to experience. But, for the second time in his studies, he was the one who died. He cried, knowing that he could never do anything about it. When she became a shell of her former self, he focused all of his attention on her. Putting all of his work on Jess and Peter, he monitored her. He watched her cry, she spent all of her time off from work at home rolling around in her bed as if the emotional pain was so strong that it was physical as well. He watched her touch herself at night, whispering his name into the empty air, him joining her from where he was spying groaning her name as well, wishing his cum was dripping from her cunt instead of down his hand. He called for her, hoping that his prayers to keep her safe would reach who ever was listening. They didn't.

He knew that when she sat up like a ghost from her bed that fateful night, she was about to do something rash. He held his hand over his watch, ready to jump as soon as he felt he needed to. When she began to walk to the edge, he decided to not even risk it and hopped into the portal.

He didn't expect her to turn and scream at him the way she did. He hadn't heard her beautiful voice for some time, he missed it so much, and the first thing she did was yell at him. He was stunned. He couldn't believe she was right in front of him. He looked at his watch. No indication of a canon event. There was nothing. Which meant...she was never supposed to die.

He was impulsive, he knows that. But, it worked out in his favor. She was supposed to be alive. He had done right. And now he had a decision to make. Does he leave her here to figure everything out on her own, or does he take her with him...and let her family think she's dead…

“You were watching me?”

Miguel refuses to meet her eyes. She didn’t move, but he tightened his grip around her just in case. Her voice was wavering.

When he didn’t answer, she continued. “Why didn’t you save him?”

He looked up at her that time. Above everything else, she was melancholy. “I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I just couldn’t, mi amor. You don’t understand.”

With her face contorted in pain, she released a choked sob. Her mouth was hung open. If she chose to believe this imposter, than hearing that nothing could have been done about the love of her life brought her no comfort. It wasn’t fair.

She gripped Miguel’s shirt letting her head fall forward into his chest. He held her for a long time while her shoulders shook. “Please, believe me.”

She doesn’t say anything, but her cries stopped. He began to worry, but she soon lifted her head up and looked into his eyes. His flicked back and forth between hers, and the both of them dive into another passionate kiss. This time, they don’t let up from each other. It gets more intense. Miguel’s breath picks up as his hands begin to explore her back and waist. She pushes her body up against his, rubbing their chests together.

She’s the one who pulls away opting to kiss down from his cheek to his neck. “Just come to bed with me. Please?” She begs into his skin.

Miguel, in a daze, whispers “Okay.”

He lifts her up and lays her down onto his bed, kissing her sweetly as he climbed on top of her. He felt so much bliss, he never imagined he would be able to do this again.

The way she grabbed his face made him never want to physically leave her side again. This was where he wanted to stay for the rest of their lives. She kissed him with so much despair, so much need, how could he ever leave her mouth? But, the strain in his pants and the grip she had on his back get worse, and he finds a reason to pull away.

She whimpers, missing the way his tongue caressed her mouth, leaving her lips swollen and shiny. Her eyes open, silently asking him where he was going, until he reached under the hem of her shirt and lifts it off of her, exposing her beautiful breasts. She gasps when he begins to rub his hand between them, eventually grabbing one to hold and play with. Miguel grins at her while she watches him rub his thumb across her hardened nipple. Which turned into her watching him dip his head down to her sternum and leave the smallest, lightest kiss.

The restraint he had on himself as he trailed his mouth down her body was unnatural. His claws had long since come out, ripping into the bedsheets as he tried so hard not replace them with her luscious hips. She was responding unbelievably well, making him happy he didn’t listen to Lyla tell him how terrible of an idea this was.

Lyla was wrong, he told himself when he heard her soft cry as his tongue played with her nipple. She began to squirm from frustration, and he just had to push his hips in between her open legs, the heat from his dick making her rub her wet panties along his shaft. Miguel moaned with her nipple fully inside his mouth, her moaning with him from the vibration against her chest.

She’s not scared of me, he thought as he leaves her nipple and kisses down her body. His lips finally met up with her panties, opting to push them to the side instead of taking them off completely. He places a kiss on her sensitive clit, his precum staining his underwear when she yelps. Miguel takes a moment to look at her glistening pussy, then he closes his eyes when he finally licks it.

And she doesn’t hate me. Miguel looks drunk when he starts eating her out. His eyebrows are raised and he gently placed her hand on her spread thigh, caressing the soft skin. Her whines making him even more desperate to please her, he presses his tongue into her center harder. His lips are covered with her fluid. Miguel gives her thigh a nice squeeze, then a slap, then he stands up straight.

When she opens her eyes to look at him, her heart races. His eyelids were low, and he towered over body making her feel smaller than she was. His stare was filled with infatuation, wiping off his lower face with one swipe of his large hand. Without breaking eye contact, he rips his shirt off and swipes his pants and underwear down, his large member bouncing back up. Miguel spit into his palm and started jerking himself off. Then, he climbs onto the bed, aligning his hips with hers.

He drools onto her pussy, her shuddering as his spit meets her clit and runs down her lips. It does well to lube her up with Miguel rubbing his tip in between her folds. “Ngh…fuck,” he mutters, the feeling of her wet cunt on his sensitive head giving him a feeling of euphoria.

She grew impatient, while Miguel was trying to take his time and savor her, she was ready to feel him split her apart. This was something she’s been dreaming about since she lost him. She waited for the day his naked body would engulf hers, his face on her cheek whispering filthy insults and sweet praises into her ear. As she remembers how sex used to be with her love, she starts to tear up.

“Miguel,” she whined making him look at her worriedly. When his eyes open, the red she noticed before is even more prominent. His mouth was opened slightly so she could barely see his fangs. How he could look so similar yet so different from her Miguel, she doesn’t know.

“Yes?” He asks her.

“Please, I can’t wait any longer. I want…” She moves her hips on him again. Miguel looks down at their hips and holds hers still.

He doesn’t respond, just pushes his length into her slowly. He grunts as he sheathes himself inside her warmth, reveling in her cries. “Shit, baby.” She’s tight and squeezing him so nicely, he can’t stop until he's inside of her fully.

She’s breathing heavily with her head thrown back and her eyes closed. Her back is arched lifting her naked chest into the air. “Look at me,” Miguel commands. She lifts her head up giving him what he wanted. Her eyes are filled with tears. It hurts, but feels so good. She missed him so much, and now they were one again.

Miguel whimpers at her beautiful face. “Hermosa,” he reaches out to her cheek to hold it. “Don’t cry.”

“But I love you,” she tells him.

He gasps. His hand lifts from her face. Freezing, he stares into her eyes in disbelief. “W-What?”

She takes his hand and brings it to her lips, leaving a gentle smooch. Her eyes close and the tears fall. “I love you, Miguel.”

His eyesight gets blurry as well, and soon Miguel is crying profusely. “Oh, baby,” he leans over her and pulls his hips backwards. Then he slams himself back down, making her yelp. She grabs his face and kisses him. “I love you too.”

As Miguel fucks her slowly, neither of them can find it in them to stay quiet. Miguel has to tell her how terribly in love with her he is. She has to let him know how much she missed him. He leans into her neck and whispers how he missed her too, and to stop crying because he’s here now. Even though, he can’t stop crying either.

She’s so happy to hear that he will never leave her side. She decides to believe him, accepting happiness instead of reality. She ignores his red eyes, his sharp fangs that press against her neck, as if he can barely hold himself back from biting her. She ignores how different the rumbling in his chest is from her Miguel. It’s not soft or sweet nor does it make her content. This one is predatory and dangerous, it makes her nervous.

She dismisses the way he grabs her neck; tight, leaving her with no air, whereas her Miguel knew that she didn’t like it rough. Honestly, neither did he. This Miguel went faster and harder. He grunted into her ear. But, she doesn't care.

She completely ignores how different this Miguel was. Her wishes were answered. She got him back. It doesn’t matter that his hold on her hip was so strong that he’s scratching her. That he didn’t stop or slow down when she came making her overstimulated. She let him cum inside her soon after, knowing that she wasn’t on anything.

“I miss you so fucking much,” she wailed when he slipped his dick out of her, his cum following suit and staining the bed beneath her.

Instead of getting a warm towel, Miguel laid down next to her and pulled her into his arms silencing her cries. “I told you baby, I’m right here.” But she doesn’t correct herself. She doesn’t calm down. She grips him for dear life and Miguel grows nervous.

Lyla was wrong…right?

“You know she will never love you the way she loved him. It will never be the same. Miguel...are you listening?”

“Lyla…shut down.”

ending a/n: Heyyyyy, did y'all like it? This will definitely not be my only Miguel fic but rn I don't really have any ideas for him. My brain is filled with thoughts of Hobie, and I need to stop neglecting my baby daddy Toji, lmao. So I'll be working on a real quick Hobie imagine and my AO3 stories as well for now. Unless I think of something else. I've been thinking about requests but I will fuck around and make a whole story from it cuz idk how to stop writing so damn much. Y'all I rly dk if I want to make another part to JFTN I rly like how it ended and I can't rly think about how I would continue it. Y'all might just have to deal idk girl. I love ya though! Anyway, I'll see y'all in the next story!🩵

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[subzeroparade]

What's a ballet with real snazzy costume work, in your humble and/or professional opinion? c:

Oh, you’ve activated my trap card - asking about costume design and ballet and not expecting me to barf up the entirety of my PhD. I’ve also done work on the ballet blancs costumes (Giselle and La Sylphide specifically) but they are interesting on a theoretical level and not so much visually, so I’ll skip that.

So here are some personal favs of mine - the highlights, if you will. Caveat: long post, and mostly limited to the work of the Ballets Russes, because they are my longtime obsession and I think (and have argued) for their role in fundamentally changing stage and costume design (to say nothing of dance, and George Balanchine can sit the fuck down). I didn’t put that in my thesis but I wanted to.

Anyway tldr in the first decade of the 20th century a troupe of dancers from the Russian Imperial Ballet (later the Mariinsky) travelled through Europe under impresario Serge Diaghilev, for what became known as the Saisons Russes, or Russian Seasons. They performed both opera and ballet, and are probably best remembered today (if at all) as the troupe that danced the premier of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring and caused a riot at the Theatre des Champs Elysées. The eminent artists that worked with them include Debussy, Cocteau, Picasso, Chanel - and these are only a few recognisable names. But my focus was primarily on the Russian roots of the ballet, in their visual language and presentation of gender and nationality, more precisely around the work of artist Leon Bakst and dancer Vaslav Nijinsky. 

Second image of Nijinsky from Le Dieu Bleu, and Bakst’s set design from Scheherazade (1911). These are mainly photos and scans I have from the year I spent in the archives of the Palais Garnier (the Paris Opera) where all the good stuff is.

The crux of why these costumes are insanely interesting to me is because they are very specific to their time - they are a product of a resurgence in nationalist interests in Russian art (Diaghilev ran Mir Isskustva and worked with Savva Mamontov before he organised the BR) as well as a carefully crafted, highly artificial presentation of Otherness, expressly destined for export to the west. French audiences in the first decade of the 20th century (because there is a stark cut-off at the beginning of WW1) still had an appetite for Orientalism, despite their flagging colonial power. What the Russians brought them was compelling mix of performative Orientalism just vague enough to be appealing and fantastical, visually intriguing, and refreshing to a society that had otherwise come to recognise itself as decadent, fallen “victim” to modernity. In the athletic virtuosity of Russian bodies, Bakst’s exotic visual language and the soaring music of Rimsky-Korsakov and Stravinsky, the French devoured what they deemed a sort of noble savagery (yes, that kind). Despite the oversaturation of Orientalism in painting throughout the 19th century, the French identified a kind of masculine vigour and freedom in these live performances they found they themselves lacked, and longed for. Primitivism, as demonstrated in myriad ways by the BR, was for them a way to reconnect with a virility that they felt modernity had stolen, or at the very least, weakened. If you think this sounds eerily akin to the discourse around mounting desire for war to “cleanse” or “reset” Europe during that same period, you are right. 

A few of Bakst’s lesser known designs from the archive, for context (including a reprod by Barbier which I don’t have the OG of but is saved in my Bakst folder so please take my word for it). I have a thousand more of these but tumblr has an image limit per post 😤

Tamara Karsavina, who often performed with Nijinsky, and one of my most beloved historical figures. The existence of a strong classical ballet cirruculumin the UK today is in part thanks to her. 

One of her most famous roles, as the Firebird:

Nijinsky is by far the most interesting figure to come out of the BR. He combined virtuosity and strength (that most audiences identified as masculine) with a glittering, joyful, and expressive queerness on stage (and off). Some of his greatest roles are expressly feminine in their costume design: Le Spectre de La Rose, for example.

There’s a colorised version of this out there where you can see every pink rose petal on him.

While others are much more decorative but still markedly Orientalist (or Russian-Orientalist): Le Dieu Bleu, La Peri, Les Orientales, L’Oiseaux de Feu. 

This last image above is not, the last I saw it, in a private collection. It hangs above the vestibule of the Palais Garnier archives (also Napoleon’s private hangout room) where it faces the sort of “diptych” version that features Karsavina, and on occasion I would stand below them and weep quietly).

Either way, there is an argument to be made about Nijinsky’s physicality and, more importantly nationality as a kind of avenue of permission through which the French could admire both his beauty and athleticism and even, to a degree, imagine themselves in his place while still maintaining that safe distance of Otherness.  

But I would argue that his greatest role was the Golden Slave in Scheherazade, a wild, erotic orientalist fantasy that has little to nothing to do with the actual tale of Scheherazade. In it, Nijinsky - bejewelled, wild, ecstatic, (and yeah often in blackface) - cavorts with Zobeide, the Sultan’s favourite, in a very sexually explicit storyline. Both characters are equally decorative in their costumes, and both, in real life, were recognisably queer(ed) figures. It’s Scheherazade in particular that helped accelerate an obsessive trend in fashion (Paul Poiret was at the centre) for Orientalist design. Bakst himself did some silhouettes that are hard to distinguish from his costume design, and through the remarkable illustrations by Paul Iribe, Georges Lepape and Georges Barbier, we can see some of the blatant repetition of motif and silhouette in these ensembles that are designed, among other things, to be worn to the theatre. 

3rd and 5th are depictions of costumes of the Firebird and Zobeide respectively; the rest are fashion plates. This doesn’t even include the lampshade dress - which I don’t have a handy picture of, but have seen in real life - that is a pretty blatant melange of the Firebird and Zobeide, as designed by Poiret. Below is one of my favourite examples: A woman in a lampshade-style dress, standing against a backdrop not unlike Bakst’s set design above, attended by a archetypal oriental servant wearing Nijinsky’s Golden Slave costume.

These motifs also proliferated in advertisements and in all kinds of other consumer products (perfumes, for example, and decorative objects). Thus, there’s a performative aim in wearing these designs that I read as a sort of pseudo-kinetic empathy (and can funnnily enough probably be compared to cosplay). There is an attempt here to channel what is being presented onstage, to reenact it, to physically embody it, in the way that fashion is, at its core, a tool through which to construct identity. That the French pulled inspiration from an openly queer man leaping across the stage dripping in jewels, and from femme fatal-style odalisques, says a lot about the visual and cultural impact the BR had on the theatre-going public at the time.

You can see in these fan designs by Paquin some pretty obvious references to the BR aesthetic: L’apres-midi d’un faune, Daphnis et Chloe, Scheherazade, even a little Le Pavillon d’Armide in that first one. 

Nijinsky was not the only one to queer the stage: despite not being a dancer trained to the level of the BR troupe, Ida Rubinstein, no doubt purposefully channelling Sarah Bernhardt, was also a beloved stage presence, whether as the sly harem favourite Zobeide or as the strikingly androgynous St Sebastian, gayest of saints. 

This is not to say there haven’t been wonderful and brilliant costume designs since - and quite a few known fashion designers working alongside dance companies, to great success or otherwise. I will, however, shoutout my favourite contemporary work: Akram Khan’s Giselle, which has everything and yet nothing to do with Adolph Adam’s 1842 piece. I don’t even want to post pictures because the costumes of the nobles (the landowners, in this very apocalyptically late-stage capitalist version) are so fucking breathtaking in relation to the overall design, and their entrance itself is probably one of the most spectacular parts of the ballet, that all I can say is just see it. Or buy the dvd. What Khan does gesturally is beyond words, what Vincenzo Lamagna does with Adam’s original score is visceral and haunting and churns my insides. I make a point to see it live at least once a season when it’s touring with the ENB, and I will do so until it leaves the repertory or until I die. It’s my contemporary Scheherazade. It’s a gesamtkunstwerk. 

Tldr Leon Bakst is one of the greatest costume designers of the 19th and 20th century and criminally underrated. 

It’s not ballet, and it’s not the sumptuous costumes from Boris Godunov, but as a bonus here’s my favourite image of opera star Fedor Chaliapine as Ivan the Terrible.

[pedroscurls]

Title: One Drunken Night (Part 2.)

CHAPTER TITLE: Back to Normal

Character(s): Negan (pre-apocalypse), Joel Miller (pre-apocalypse, au), Reader (third-person POV), Lucille Summary: After their fun and unforgettable night together, Reader and Negan go back to their normal lives, but it seems like the universe is trying to keep them together. Word Count: 1,794 Author's Note: So, as you can tell from my recent reblogs, I am obsessed with Joel Miller and Pedro Pascal, so this story will now include him (cross-over). Ahhh, I’m so excited for you all to read what’s in store for this story! Enjoy. Warning: None.

(GIF Source: @jdmorganz​) 

Negan

The following morning, Negan awoke in a conflicting mood. He felt great, especially after last night’s events, but he was feeling an intense amount of guilt. While he was still riding his high from last night, he immediately felt regret when he caught a glimpse of Lucille walking into the kitchen.

He couldn’t believe that he had cheated on her and he wasn’t sure that telling her was a good idea. So instead, he decided to keep it to himself. Besides, it only happened once and it wasn’t going to happen again. 

“Are you even listening?” Negan heard Lucille say.

“I’m sorry baby, what?”

Lucille sighed. “Got too drunk last night?”

Negan let out a heavy breath. He didn’t want to argue again, especially not this early. “Well, it seemed like you didn’t want me here, so what was I supposed to do?”

“Do you even– You know what, nevermind.”

“No, what is it? What is your problem with me, Lucille?”

“If you have to ask that, then it really shows that you think there’s nothing wrong with our marriage.”

Negan shook his head and stood from the stool he was sitting on at their island counter. He looked down at Lucille, holding a cup of coffee in his hand. “I’m tired of fucking fighting, Lucille, so before we start yelling at each other again, I’m just going to walk away right now.”

Lucille scoffed. “I’ve gotta get to work anyway.”

Negan sighed. “Lucille–”

“Bye, Negan.” No kiss. No hug. No “I love you”. Lucille instead walked to the garage and slammed the door shut behind her, causing Negan to flinch at the abrupt, loud sound.

Negan tightened his jaw, running a hand over his face. “Fucking hell.” He felt like shit. A shitty husband. A shitty person. An overall failure. His marriage with Lucille used to be great; they were both so head over heels in love with each other and now, neither of them could stand to be in the same room with each other. At least not without an inevitable yelling match.

It was only a matter of time before Lucille decided to leave him and file for divorce. It was too late to salvage their marriage, so Negan was just bracing himself for what was to come. It made him sad to think about separating from Lucille and despite their constant arguments, he still wanted her to be happy. 

He knew he wasn’t making her happy and nothing he did was ever enough either. If he had to let her go for her to be happy, then he would do it. Negan still loved Lucille and if she decided she didn’t want to be with him anymore, then he wasn’t going to stop her. 

Lucille deserved to be happy and it was obvious that he was only making things worse.

---

Reader

Y/N awoke that morning feeling very satisfied. She wasn’t usually the type of woman to have one night stands, but even she had needs that needed to be tended to. Once her date stood her up, she didn’t have any expectation that she was going to end up going home with an absolute stranger. A sexy stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. 

“Negan,” she mumbled to herself. “What a unique name.” She sighed, biting her lower lip as she imagined the same man from last night. The leather jacket, the dimples, the deep voice… He was amazing and it was no wonder why she was attracted to him; she always did have a thing for older men so she wasn’t sure why she was trying to go on dates with men her age. 

However, her mind then drifted to the man she had an insane crush on. She sighed. He was so out of reach and never showed any interest, but he was so sweet, quiet, and the complete opposite of Negan in terms of personality. He was probably around the same age as Negan and he was just as scruffy, his hair and facial hair tinged with gray. His voice was also deep and inviting, causing her to feel butterflies in her stomach whenever he was nearby. 

She was broken out of her reverie when her phone started to ring. She bit her lower lip and picked it up, hearing his voice on the other end of the line.

“Mornin’,” he said. “Are you still up for coffee?”

“Good morning to you too, Joel.” She blushed, just even hearing his voice made her insides tingle. “Oh, yeah yeah. Give me twenty?”

Joel smiled. “Fun night last night?”

Her mind drifted to Negan. “You can say that. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon, darlin’.”

Y/N had met Joel over a year ago and while their friendship grew overtime, she had the biggest crush on him and it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide it. She knew Joel wasn’t interested in dating, especially not after losing his daughter. He had opened up to her one night and since then, Joel knew he could trust her. Their coffee meet ups happened frequently; it was a weekly occurrence and Joel looked forward to it every week. She brought out a side of him that he thought was long gone.

But Joel knew he couldn’t pursue her. He knew Y/N deserved better than him anyway. He was damaged goods and he didn’t think he could make her happy, so he decided to settle on being her friend. It pained him to hear her talk about various men she met or even spent the night with because he had wished it was him, but he knew it was better this way. 

He didn’t want to end up disappointing her like he did everyone else.

Twenty minutes later, Joel was sitting at a table, waiting for Y/N to arrive. She usually wasn’t late so he had to wonder how her night went last night. He was just about to call her to ask where she was when he noticed her walking in.

“Hey, I’m so sorry I’m late.”

Joel flashed her a small smile and pushed her cup of coffee in her direction. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

Y/N smiled, taking a sip of her coffee and goraning at the taste. “I really needed this. Thank you, Joel.”

“Figured you’d need it.” He sipped from his own cup, looking in her direction. Joel found her to be so beautiful, so captivating, but he knew he couldn’t do anything about it, so he admired from afar, determined to not make it so obvious.

“You got work this morning?” Joel heard her ask.

He nodded, running a hand over his bear. “Yeah. With Tommy.”

Y/N was used to Joel being a man of few words, but while he didn’t say a lot, his eyes were so expressive. So, she noticed a slight roll of his eyes at the mention of his brother, hinting at annoyance and dread.

“Oh, why that face?” She laughed. “Tommy isn’t all that bad.”

Joel scoffed. “He’s just gonna be talkin’ about his new girl, Maria.”

“Sounds like he’s in love,” Y/N smiled.

“And I’m happy for him, but he’s been naggin’ me to get out there and date too. Somethin’ about finding my own happiness or whatever.”

Y/N felt herself get excited at the thought of going out with Joel. Maybe this was a good thing; Tommy was pushing Joel to start dating and this meant she might at least have a chance. Since meeting Joel, she had developed a crush that she had to push aside. He never really did show any interest towards her, or any woman, but Y/N was still holding onto hope. 

Maybe one day.

“He sounds like he knows what he’s talking about.”

He shook his head and scoffed once more. “Me? Love? You’ve gotta be jokin’. Besides, I like bein’ alone.”

Her excitement and hope slowly began to fade. She didn’t know how to cross that line of being just friends with him, but she knew she wanted more. 

“Oh, come on. Everyone deserves love, Joel.”

“Not me. ‘M fine with the way things are,” he replied quickly.

Before Y/N could reply, she caught a glimpse of the same man from last night. The heat between her legs became noticeable, serving as a reminder of last night’s events. When their eyes met, Negan smirked, flashing his dimples and sending a wink in her direction. Before she knew it, he was walking over to their table with such confidence and charisma that Joel even noticed that her attention was elsewhere.

“Well, fancy running into you. Good morning, doll.”

Y/N bit her lower lip, his voice causing her insides to tingle that she forgot Joel was sitting across from her. “Negan…”

He grinned, running his tongue across his lower lip. “Looks like the universe is trying to send us a message.” Negan winked, referring to what she said last night about their hook up being only a one time thing. 

“That or you’re following me,” she quipped. Y/N tried to keep her resolve, but was finding it increasingly difficult to do so with Negan standing near her and Joel sitting across from her. She didn’t want to bring up last night, especially not in front of Joel, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Negan. The events of last night flashing through her mind and she was, surprisingly, yearning for more.

“You gonna introduce me to your friend, darlin’?” Joel asked, bringing her out of her reverie. 

She looked over at him and nodded, clearing her throat. “Sorry. This is– Um, this is Negan.”

Joel stood from the table to face Negan. He was shorter, but was by far more muscular and thicker than the other man. Negan was tall and slender, and the smirk on his face irritated Joel and he didn’t know why. 

Both men were complete opposites. 

Negan was loud and confident. 

Joel was quiet and reserved. 

And Y/N wanted both of them.

“Negan, this is my– This is Joel.”

Negan arched a brow, catching the way she stuttered when introducing the man in front of him. He looked over at Joel, maintaining that smirk. He could tell he was getting under the other man’s skin and Negan liked it, enjoyed it rather. It was obvious to him that Joel had a thing for Y/N. 

Y/N looked between both men, her mind immediately going to inappropriate thoughts.

Though, it was Joel who stuck his hand out first.

“Nice to meet ‘ya.”

Negan ran his tongue along the top of his teeth and reached out to shake Joel’s hand with a firm, tight grip. “Yeah, good to meet you too, Joel.”

---

Part 3.

Taglist (let me know if you want to be tagged!): @kaitebugg03, @a-girl-interupted

[none-shall-caricature-me]

Goody - two - shoes discourse has reached the VTSOM fandom. Ugh.

Just finished Vincent : The Secret of Myers, SPOILERS and opinions on its fan discourse below -  ISTG if another person says ‘Vincent should've seen that bad end coming because he was going TOO much down a dark, vengeful, murderous path and EMOTIONALLY - DRIVEN REVENGE BAD 11!!!’ I’ll go berserk. Bruh, ALL THE CHARACTERS in this game are morally grey (less so for Draco, it seems). Vincent is brutally murdering the core members, and people’s issue with that is that he’s apparently also killing those sidepiece employees who were very selfish but not fully evil, just like he used to be. Now, regardless of whether or not he’s killing the less shady workers too (I personally think it’s not clarified so far, though sparing other pawns like him would make his revenge ethically sound), get out of your asses for once and see how convincing ‘BUT I WOULD NEVER SINK SO LOW IF I WERE HIM, I’D STEW IN MISERY OVER MY TORTURE LIKE A GOOD VICTIM INSTEAD OF GOING ON A BLOODY RAMPAGE TO TAKE BACK SOME SEMBLANCE OF CONTROL OVER MY SHITTY LIFE’ sounds.

 Dude, first of all, once you’re self - centred and socially desperate enough join a cutthroat MNC as their top dirty - dealing lawyer -- and then get fucked over horribly despite reluctantly licking the company’s boots -- you’re also self - centered enough to seek vengeance at all costs. And barring the whole corrupt lawyer thing, being self - centered isn’t necessarily bad. An ordinary person wouldn’t have the means to take on Myer Corp. and that’s why most ‘normal’ folks would just give up on revenge, willingly (if they’re of the insane ‘I will suffer in silence and simply expect to get over the horrible destruction of my self like a good girl’ variety) or unwillingly. But Vincent has the genius, the insider info and the wealth to fuck over Myer Corp.’s experimenters - SO WHY WOULDN’T HE ? 

Yes, his ostensible targeting of a probably memory - wiped Vanora is not at all a good move - in fact it was mostly quite dumb and could’ve been averted since altering memories can definitely change a person’s goals, loyalties, personality and philosophy (Vanora at the game’s start, before Vincent intentionally reminded her of her past, was harmless). But Myer Corp sent her to kill him, and maybe he was paranoid that she could be a sleeper agent, BUT most importantly his terrible experiences have understandably fucked him up psychologically and he’s NOT thinking straight at all. Therefore Vanora and those he killed may be brainwashed company pawns just like him, following callous orders for self - preservation or profit, but it’s hardly easy to empathise with that when you’re stewing in your own hell. That’s something smoothly said but rarely done, and very few of you morality hecklers would be saintly enough to pull it off if you were in his place. 

Do you seriously think that ANYBODY is such a dumb baby lamb that they’ll simply get over their life being ruined, having to eat humans to live, suffering long agony; perk up, fix a smile on their face, and try to live out the rest of their life like they’re fucking Jesus Christ a - okay with being crucified ? No, and whether they were a bad enough person to be called hypocritical for their obsession (like Vincent probably is) DOESN’T MATTER. Because the alternative is fucking unrealistic and oppressive (like Madoka Magica’s bird - brained ‘happier ending’ where the puella magi swallow their pain and straight up have to die so that their pain won’t make them lash out in the only way they can). 

Point is, Vincent’s mad fixation on gorily wiping out Myers IS, as far as we know, NOT good, yes. But given his realistically morally grey personality, his trauma and his circumstances, it makes sense. Similarly, his attempt to kill Vanora after HIMSELF ensuring she’d remember her past and calling her loyal to Myers at heart was SUPER DUMB and horrible - but it makes sense given the above. The world is full of Vincent Edgeworth, Self - Preserving Ex - Corrupt Lawyers. Unconditionally loving, naive, selfless Dracos are rare. 

And tbh, I personally find a fucked - up Vincent very interesting, realistic and poignant. I don’t care that he’s problematic because he’s super well - written.

[yutamayo]

Solo Leveling first impression (episode 1 & 2) - (NO content spoilers involved!)

So I actually went in with ZERO knowledge of the plot or anything at all. All I knew was the promo poster. Given that, the very beginning threw me off a little with what I was expecting from the genre/vibe, but it brought me back very quickly. I will say it started a little slow for me, by that I mean episode 1 was amazing but it wasn't until episode 2 that I got that "ohhhh shiiiit" feeling, you know the one

I will note that despite the very first few minutes not drawing me in plot wise, the animation is so fucking fire like INSTANT noticeably amazing. Like on God I thought it was MAPPA (it's not, it's A-1 Pictures). My brother and I both literally stated outloud that the animation was beautiful as soon as it started playing. The cinematography is dope as shit, a reason I assumed it was MAPPA was bc they animated the fight scenes' movement & style so interactively and dynamically.

The next thing I'll say is that episode 2 made every negative point I just expressed irrelevant. A fucking trip, well paced and perfect intro to the dark, gritty, and badass insanity that is sure to come.

The OP and ED were dope and I've heard they reference the manga very well. I like the outro song but not super obsessed with the actual outro video, and the intro video I love but not a fan of the intro song. To be fair, I didn't love SPECIALZ in the beginning, and now hearing it gives me visceral chills. Things change.

I love the main character and don't have even a single thing to note about him that I haven't enjoyed. Also a character that's been introduced... Iykyk but I saw her and genuinely wanted to compliment her as a character but I literally sat there next to my brother and mother with my mouth slightly open and jaw clenched bc I knew the moment I tried to say something about her it would sound so fucking lesbian. Like so fucking lesbian. I genuinely couldn't trust myself to speak when I saw her. So.

All in all, I absolutely recommend. It's so amazing I'm sad I have to wait every week for it to come out, but it'll only stay amazing if the animators are given more time.

100000% check out Solo Leveling if you get the chance! (@chiarrara 👀💖)

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #149

Do you like getting flowers as a gift? I do, even though I can't quite explain why, like they're just gonna die now. I think it's pure tradition which makes me like it, despite the fact I generally don't give a microscopic shit about traditions.

Who is one person you never get tired of? My boyfriend.

How different would your life be if “that one thing” didn’t happen? I'd almost certainly be married to and have kids with someone who didn't ultimately believe in me and was by this point probably extremely frustrated with me being mentally ill that he'd likely hate me. We would not be a happy couple. Who knows, maybe I never even would've gotten the mental help I needed.

What is “that one thing”? A traumatic breakup.

What’s the most desperate thing you did? god I am NOOOOOOT going there

Where was the last place you took a train to? I've never been on a train, actually.

What are your living arrangements currently? Are you happy with them? I live with my mom and our pets. Yes, I enjoy my mom's company, but both me and Girt want our own place by now, it's just not reasonable with the housing market.

Have you met your soulmate? I don't believe in those.

If your best friend wanted to cheat on their partner, you would say what? Well my best friend is my boyfriend, so we wouldn't stay together. In the hypothetical where my best friend wasn't my own partner, I'd definitely tell them to do the same, not just straight-up cheat. Let them go first.

Who do you know that gives very sound advice? Specifically Mazzy, they are fantastic at balancing realism with acknowledgment of emotions.

At what age did you start to feel like a teen and not a kid anymore? It was the exact day I started my period, which was 12 or 13, according to my mom.

What is your parents’ idea of grounding you? Taking away computer privileges.

Do you think art museums are pointless? ?????????????????????? does ANYBODY ACTUALLY think this?????????????????????

Do you care about looks when you’re looking for a romantic partner? I don't think I do, or if I do, it must have to be a case of extreme unattractiveness for me to notice. Me being attracted to someone has to be no less than at LEAST 90% about personality.

How many times have you moved? Officially four, but I've "lived" in apartments with Jason and much later Colleen temporarily.

Is Christmas stressful? It's not for me, yet, I'm sure because I'm not expected to get my loved ones stuff because I have no income. I already have to ask my fucking mom to get at least ONE thing for my s/o, because that's one I feel WAY too bad about not getting anything for, even though he doesn't care whatsoever. It's such a garbage fucking feeling. Historically I've always made/gotten people gifts I put a shitload of thought into and often a great deal of effort, so me ACTUALLY having money to buy gifts for so many people for a holiday will likely be really stressful for me. I'd likely obsess over something not being "good enough" or overspend.

Your best friend has a good or bad taste in music? Good, we like mostly the same stuff, but there are some small surprises. His music on shuffle is insane though haha, going from death metal to some goofy parody song.

What would your friends be surprised to see in your music library? The number of Melanie Martinez songs on my iPod would definitely surprise people, I genuinely like a lot of her stuff.

Do you like to talk about the future when in a serious relationship? Yes, it's reassurance to me that you're actually interested in staying together.

Do you like public displays of affection? Only to a certain extent; I don't want to do overtly sexual things in public, but things like simple, quick kisses or calling me a petname in front of others, I do like because it shows me you're not ashamed of being with me.

Do you believe in moving in together before engagement or marriage? For me, that's what I'd prefer. I want to see how well we operate living under the same roof until we decide to do that forever.

Do you watch mukbangs? No, I've never quite gotten the appeal. Actually I have watched people who normally do vlog-like content do mukbangs as a random thing in the past, but that's primarily because I was invested in them as people and just liked watching whatever they did, but it's been years.

How do you lose weight? What’s your favourite diet food and exercise? Gonna be full honest, historically my biggest weight loss period was from extreme undereating, like I did nothing else to cause it, and because of that I'm still dealing with it as I try to re-lose weight I gained back, but I've been at a plateau for a very long time now... which I now know is likely from how extreme my hypothyroidism is. As a teenager I lost a good deal of weight from playing WiiFit daily; I got in the best shape of my entire life with it. I have gone done a bit with physical therapy too. I haven't found a reliable - and safe - weight loss method that works for me yet as an adult...

Do you have a lot of friends? Do you have a partner? Have you ever had one? I don't have many friends, but those I do have are pretty fucking great quality. I have a boyfriend and he's my best friend literally ever.

Do you currently have any hickeys? From who? No.

Who was the last person to come to your house? Girt.

Have you ever had sex with the same gender? Totally honest I'm not really sure what the consensus is on what cis female x cis female sex is, but either way I say no.

If you’ve experienced both, is sex better with men or women? I have a feeling that sexually I'll always prefer men, but I wouldn't really know.

Have you ever been the other woman? No, I will not be somebody's second choice.

Would you ever want to be with a virgin? If no, why not? I couldn't care less. Neither of the people I've been with sexually were/are, but it wouldn't bother me at all.

Do you constantly find yourself internet stalking your ex? No, last I knew he only had Facebook and I was (rightfully) blocked, but I haven't even tried to look in a very long time. I don't look at Sara's accounts anywhere because I've learned it never, ever serves me any sort of good whatsoever so I just don't.

Are you friends with any of your exes? Not really; I don't have any bad blood with Aaron, we just haven't talked since like, the start of high school, and he deactivated his Facebook many years ago. Juan and I have recently messaged some, but I'm keeping distant and have no interest in actually pursuing friendship with him.

Do you have an addiction? To what? Internet, for sure. I've been that way since I was a kid, and it's never been fixed. I am annoyingly useless without Internet connection, like I have no idea what to do and it's seriously pathetic.

Blunts, bowls or bongs? I don't smoke, so I wouldn't know.

When you have a fight with your partner what do you do? We talk it out. We haven't had many of these at all, so I don't have a big pool of reference, but we absolutely value remaining calm (something I'm learning to be better at) and being completely upfront and honest. We put a lot of emphasis on maintaining strong communication.

Who does the grocery shopping in your house? Mom.

Are your parents still together? Hell no, I have a hard time believing they ever were lol. Dad is so like, not the person I would picture my mom falling in love with.

Have any siblings you know of but don’t actually know personally? Yes, my dad's first daughter Tiffany. Never met her in my life and know almost nothing about her; I think I've only seen a single picture of her. I love my dad but he does not get any fatherly awards, given he has nothing to do with her and very barely Misty, the daughter from his first marriage. The one time Misty came here with her kids, it was literally her who reached out to him to go to dinner and just meet his grandkids. It bothers me that it's only me and my two full-blooded sisters who seem to always matter to him.

Greatest fear? Living alone on the streets with nowhere to go.

Something most people fear that you do not fear at all? Snakes are one, I'm always stoked to see a snake.

Don’t you hate getting nice & comfy & then having to pee? UGH YES, and it sucks because I absolutely HAVE to get up and do it or else I literally cannot fall asleep.

Ever faked being pregnant? No, and these people fucking disgust me. This isn't a topic you joke about.

Ever had a major surgery performed on you? I wouldn't call either that I've had "major," no, at least I don't think so.

Which of the seven deadly sins are you guilty of? I mean at some point I experience all of them, but sloth is the one I'm MOST guilty of.

Do you believe in divorce? Yes, it should absolutely always be legal to leave someone if they no longer enrich your life. I VERY much do believe you should put immense thought into marriage and NEVER rush into it, and look into various possible futures with that partner and see if you still feel the same. I do definitely believe that a large percentage of people certainly don't take marriage seriously enough and never should've gotten married in the first place, but yes, divorce should always be an available option for people.

Is intelligence a turn on for you? Yes, show me that big brain papi

Who has made the biggest sacrifice for you? My mom.

Do you treat others better or worse than yourself and why? Oh, way better. I just don't like myself enough and hold myself to absurd standards I don't have for others.

When you sleep next to someone who usually falls asleep first? Oh, it has ALWAYS been the other person, with literally everyone I've ever shared a bed with. I have always had major difficulty with falling asleep; I even struggled as a kid. My brain just cannot shut off, ever.

Do you think it is harder for a parent to outlive their child or for their child to outlive them? Both are fucking awful, but I definitely think it's more difficult for a parent to outlive their child; like you have kids being so sure that you're going out first, that you'll never have to be in a world without them again, but for plenty of people, it happens.

What is one selfish thing you tend to do? I HATE talking when I'm listening to music, specifically if Mom and I are in the car; I've controlled the music forever, and I have to admit that I get annoyed when she talks over it sometimes; unless she's literally attempting conversation, I don't reply to most things she says aloud; if it doesn't require my input, I'm not saying anything. I'm fully aware how bitchy that is, it's just this shitty thing about me I've never managed to correct.

What kinds of people do you find intimidating? Pushy, loud people that are entirely blunt and not afraid of hurting your feelings at all and are go go go 200% of the time.

Who is the most overbearing person you know? Our fucking landlord/family "friend," which I don't really consider her anymore.

How old was the first person you kissed? At the time we kissed, he was early into 18.

Do you plan on moving out within the next year? It'd be nice, but I'm not so sure it's gonna happen.

Have you ever slept nude? Only accidentally, just kinda Happened and I'm very grateful I stayed under the covers because this was with my teenage bf with his parents home lmfao

How many stories tall is your dream house? Honestly a dream house for me would still be one story; I don't want more rooms than we need (just more cleaning to do) and I'm not into stairs, lol.

Do you consider yourself to be promiscuous? Entirely the opposite.

Do you have any obscure pets? No, ball pythons are very common pet snakes, and the champagne morph is popular.

Do you consider yourself politically correct? I try to be, but I do sometimes worry about slipping up with a word I didn't know was even offensive.

[shuckinbeanz]

SCREAM 3 (Yan!GhostFace!Baku)

He also comes maskless! So check out his spoopy mug! 👻

warnings/notes: NSFW, college!au, Katsuki is insane, Katsuki is a yandere, Katsuki’s POV, but he eventually short-circuits 😂 so it goes to reader's POV and back again, nerdy reader, reader is a brat, Katsuki being a big puppy for reader, confessions & cuteness, making out, oral(male receiving), face fucking, daddy papa bear kink, and size kink. was originally intended as a full on smut, but I couldn't resist the end lmfao 😂 imagination is good for the mind and body, so go nuts with how he rails ya'll 🥵 maybe continue it in rbs or asks or something i wont mind srsly

I'm sorry I haven't been posting and have just been reblogging, I'm suffering from writer's block and tryin to get over it 😩 it is working, bit by bit

~Masterlist~

Underage characters are Aged Up!

MINORS 👏 DNI! 👏 AGE 👏 IN 👏 BIO 👏 OR 👏 DNI! 👏 Head on over to @candybowbeansies please for my SFW pieces, or be blocked if you interact here! 😇

Ya'll already know if you read the opening and especially the ending, but I’ll warn again; the reader is fruitloopy due to the fact they accept what Katsuki did and still have the hots for him despite the fact he's a murderer, because this is a consent blog ✨ (not me shamelessly promoting the other parts 😂)

tags: @parker-natasha

The spam from your group chat had him red-faced. Along the lines of 'Oooooo N/N gettin HUNNY 🥴' 'U go N/N 😂' 'bb u in for a SURPRISE ✨🤤' '👉👌'. It wasn't long before you turned off your cellphone. He could see your ears as red as he felt his face was, and he couldn't help but think about how cute you were, clinging to his arm and dragging him along.

As much as the height difference made it awkward for him to follow you, he was basking under your touch; whether you knew it or not, you were practically clinging to his arm, and for Katsuki...this was a dream he never wanted to wake up from. He couldn't keep in the lovestruck grin that graced his lips.

You. The love of his life, the Deity he worships, the sweet loveable you who he killed for...you thanked him. Something he never expected you to do. Ever. Because he'd resolved himself to play the villain to protect you. The sweet, innocent you.

You were clinging so beautifully to his arm, dragging him along with a strength he never knew you had, to where you had lived. That place--a Forbidden Palace he never allowed himself to encroach further on. As you pull him closer and closer, the louder he could hear his own heart thud in his chest. The more and more anxious he found himself become. Soon enough, a pitiful sound escapes him; something he couldn't contain. You immediately turned around, reaching up to cup his face with your small hands. Genuine worry on your face. "'tsuki...it's okay. Okay?" you coo up at him and he melts into your touch. He lifts his hand to grab yours, but he pause midway. How could he dare touch you with bloodied hands? You smile at him, then. Smile. At. Him. You take his hand gingerly, and his heart skips a beat. "It's okay. We're almost there." you say to him, before turning around, his hand in yours, leading him once more.

And you were right; your place was close-a small apartment complex. You lead him up to your door, before releasing him to get your keys. "It's a bit messy inside." you say, craning your head to glance up to him briefly. He shakes his head-because truthfully, he didn't care. You snort. "Well, it is, so I'm sorry, ahead of time." you tell him as you put your key into the keyhole and turn it. "Don't care..." he mumbles, the jingling making him anxious in a different manner, the fact that his obsession was unlocking their door for him, despite knowing about his crime setting in all too quickly.

You open your door with a soft laugh, "Welcome to L/N's humble abode." you say, beckoning him in as you toe off your shoes with practiced ease. And really, he realized as he follows you in, it was a humble abode. He watches you walk into the living room and take a turn into the kitchen as he removes one boot at a time, before following you. It was a decently sized space; a very short and almost claustrophobic hallway connected to the small mudroom at the entrance lead to a living room on the left, and a small kitchen off to the right. Beyond these two rooms was a longer hallway that had lead to what he assumed to be a bathroom, and a bedroom as he stood waiting for you while you were in the kitchen. It was small, yes, but it was big enough for one or two people. A couple. He raised a hand to his forehead, dragging his palm down his flushed face as he tried to will away that thought. A couple.

"Want something to drink?" your voice ringing right behind him makes him jump out of his skin, releasing a strangled sound at the back of his throat. How'd you get so close without him noticing?! You laugh at his reaction. At his expense. As embarrassing as it was, he thought bringing his hand up again to hide half his face from view as you peeked around and up at him, it was also cute. Red eyes flick to your face very briefly to see a mischievous gremlin smile gracing your lips. "Your ears are red, 'tsuki~" you teased, and yes, he knew they were.

"Just water..." he grumbled, averting his gaze from you as you round him, offering him a cold water bottle. He takes it, and you walk by him, taking his free hand to lead him to the couch. Once you both were comfortably seated, he downs half the bottle. Several moments of silence pass before he hears you speak. "So...you have something to tell me? Or...do you want me to go first, 'tsuki?" you asked.

Something to tell you? He couldn't bring himself to even so much as glance your way, his mind beginning to reel. Something to tell you? Like how he heard those bastards who wanted to defile you, like how he killed every last one of those motherfuckers? How much he'd made those fuckers suffer, knocking off a bitch bimbo or two while he was at it? No, that'd make you afraid of him. Right? He didn't want that! He wanted to protect you! The one he'd loved so much!

He'd loved...

Or did you want him to tell you how he'd been sent spiraling downhill uncontrollably, completely and utterly obsessed with you? Since the beginning. He'd been falling and falling. Maybe, at first, he knew it was wrong, but now? Now that he's killed for you? Katsuki wasn't so sure anymore; if it was wrong or not. That thread has long since snapped.

"'tsuki?" he hears your worried voice, and finally, he turns to you. Close. You were close. Katsuki was quickly overwhelmed by this, all train of thought coming to a crashing halt, his face burning up.

~~~

He was silent for awhile, refusing to look at you and answer you. You could tell from his body language-his posture-something was churning inside his head. And you had a hunch what that something was, so you carefully inched close to him. "'tsuki?" you called him, worried. Your voice brings a jolt in him as his head swivels to you, and you hold back your laugh at how quickly his face, ears, and neck turn a lurid crimson; bright enough to rival his widened eyes. Okay, perhaps you were a little too close. You find yourself smiling softly, feeling your cheeks heat slightly, for a few short moments.

"I...overheard." you admit, allowing time for your words to begin to sink in. "What that man wanted to do." you say to him, his beet red flush beginning to cool as you speak to him, one sentence at a time, slowly. "The man...you killed." you say to him. You could see horror and panic very slowly begin to settle into his sharp features. "'tsuki." you call him again. "I meant it." you tell him, seriously. "When I said thank you." you say. His brows furrow, and he opens his mouth, but no words come out.

You look down, your hand searching for his. "Sweet thing..." you say the nickname he'd called you softly, watching his fingers flex and hesitantly intertwine with yours. "I..." you hear him try to speak. "Truth be told, I, uh...." you trail off, trying to find the courage to confess to the man whose hand you were holding, "I love you." trying to find the right words to tell him how long--

'I love you.'

Once the three raspy words register over your inner scramble to find the right words, you whip your head up to look at him in awe, and a pang of disbelief. The man you were head over heels for...just confessed to you, before you could confess to him. The loveable man in front of you, looking so adorable going shade after shade redder by the second. Without a second thought, you swing one leg over his legs to straddle his lap, his embarrassed sputtering going in one ear and out the other.

"Thah--Buh--Ah--"

You cup his face, tilt your head and lean in to place your lips on his in a brief chaste kiss, the scent of warm caramel clouding your senses. The warbled noise that escapes him when you pull away; the adorable 'please' in his gaze makes you smile as you lean back in to pepper him with soft kisses. He sighs in content, basking in your affection, his tense form melting under your kisses. It isn't until the nth kiss you press onto his lips that he kisses back, which earns a giggle from you.

You could feel his smile as you kissed him and he kissed back, wrapping your arms around his neck. This slow, sweet kiss was shared for several moments before you both break apart. You bring a hand to caress his face, gazing at his lovely features, his hands resting on your hips. "I love you, too, 'tsuki." you tell him in a small voice, shyly. His smile widens, thumbs rubbing a brief circle before he leans down slowly to kiss you-so sweetly, as if asking permission-and you close the distance, locking your lips with his, carding your fingers through his soft hair.

You nip on his lower lip, silently asking for more, and he complies with a soft groan; parting his lips to allow you entrance, his tongue wrestling yours. His taste. Heavens above, he was more intoxicating than you dreamed of. You scoot up on his lap to get closer to him, closer to his warmth, your pelvis bumping into something very hard and quite large. You could feel his gasp in your mouth at that contact.

"That--"

For you, this was a dream come true. Feeling mischievous, you grind against him. "Fuck." he grunts, stilling your hips.

" 'tsuki?" you hum.

"We...can't."

~~~

"We...can't." he says. " 'tsuki…" he hears you whine, he sees those pretty eyes looking up at him. "That--I-" he tries. Those pretty eyes. "It's not that I don't want to, it's--fuck--" he grunts, feeling his face heat up. "If--that-" he starts. Begging him.

See, Katsuki had self-restraint practically in spades. But now that he was beneath the beautiful you in the flesh, that which he prided himself in crumbles completely. "I won't be able to control myself." he grits out, hanging on a thread. "Then don't, 'tsuki." you say, very close to sending him reeling down the path of debauchery that only happened in his dreams. Those gorgeous eyes looking up at him, pleading with him.

He didn’t want to scare you. Damn, you were so beautiful. He wanted to protect you, not--

" 'tsuki?" you call him sweetly.

How could he say no?

"Consent." he manages. Your pretty eyes widen up at him, while he goes through an internal struggle. Oh, the things he wanted to do to you. So sweet, so beautiful…so innocent looking. You grace him with your laughter, pink dusting your cheeks-music to his ears, sending shivers up and down his spine, giving him goosebumps.

He wanted to corrupt you. But that would have to wait. He wanted to savor his first time with you. Take things nice and slow.

But first, he wanted to know if you wanted him, too.

"I need your consent, y/n." he says, and just push yourself closer to him. "I don't want to hurt you." he says, as you wrap your arms around his neck, "I--" planting a hot one on his lips to shut him up. "Jus' fuck me, already, 'tsuki." you tell him, and something in him snaps.

Oh, sweetheart. He'll fuck you, alright.

Large hands cup your ass, fingers digging into your supple flesh, anchoring you to him. He could hear your gasp, your cute squeal as he stood up, followed by your playful laughter as he carried you down the hall while you clung to him. "La-last one down--" you gasp breathlessly, your sweet lips searching for his, your hands tugging wantonly at his blonde locks. He grunts, hiking you up and craning his head, and you latch on as he keeps you secure around his hips, making out with him as he reaches out a hand and turns the knob, kicking the door open. Vermillion eyes glance up and flit about your room as he carries you to the bed.

Your room. Your bed.

He pulls away from the kiss when his knees meet the bed, plopping you on top of the mattress. "Fuck--" he grunts, your hand already reaching under his tank top, gliding over his trail and feeling up his abs, exploring up, up, up, one sneaky little finger from your other hand hooping under his belt.

You're a brave one, aren't 'cha?

He reaches up behind himself, pulling off his hoodie, his tank top quickly following, discarded on the floor. He chuckles darkly, catching you staring at the very visible tent straining from within the tight confines of his jeans. "Like what 'cha see, sweet thing?" he smirks down at you, watching your pretty hues flit up to him. You give him a coquettish smile, and he could see the mischief in your eyes as you grabbed his belt and proceeded to wrestle it undone. He stays put-he lets you do you, a huff of amusement escaping through his nose.

His eyes spot something tucked beneath your pillows. He could see it very well; right there, in your preferred color, lay a dildo. You made quick work of his belt, situating yourself better, the mattress bouncing under your excited movement, before you undo the button and lower the zipper of his jeans, the latter's teeth ripping open with only the slightest tug, his cock free from it's tightest confine, creating a huge tent in his briefs. He licks his lips, your beautiful gasp making his cock throb in anticipation. He gives you a wicked smirk, reaching for your toy. You want him to fuck you, sweet thing, and believe him, he wants to fuck you six ways from Sunday.

After you see what he had reached for, you begin sputtering. You're so cute, he thinks, seeing the start of some letters, turning it...

..to see his name. "That, 'tsuki--that's!" you try, your embarrassed squeaks only fueling the flame. Boosting his ego. "Fuck, sweetheart." he grunts. You're not as innocent as he thought you were. He steps back, taking your chin and lifting it as he bends and just kisses you.

You, his lovely obsession, had a fucking dildo you used, with his fucking name on it.

Well, when he was done with you, you wouldn't need the damn thing anymore. He'd make damn sure he replaces his own fucking replacement. And that's a promise.

"Mhmn." he hums as he pulls away, chuckling as your lips chase him. "Wanna put them pretty lips somewhere else?" he asks, your toy discarded somewhere in lieu of teasing the band of his briefs while he thumbed at your lips with his other hand.

He watches your gaze dip lower and lower, meeting with his prominent bulge. He was bigger than you had imagined him to be; he knew he would fill you up better than any toy you would use when you fantasized about him.

"How 'bout wrapping 'em around my cock." he says. It wasn't a question.

He pulls down the band as you bring your face close, his erection springing free onto your face with a plap. He can't contain the sigh of relief that escapes him as you gasp. "You're big, Papa Bear…" you sigh, the puff of hot air and the petname sending electricity through his body. You give him an experimental kitten lick, making him groan.

Papa Bear? Naughty fuckin' thing.

He wanted so badly to fuck your face, his mind and body warring with each other. He feels your hot wet mouth take him in suddenly, and his hips instinctively buck forward into the welcoming heat.

"Fuck-" he grunts.

He places a hand on the back of your head, encouragingly. After a few moments of making him see stars, he manages to coax you off. He caresses your cheek.

He wanted to do so many things to you, but only for you would he take things slow.

"You wanna be good for Papa?" he asks. He can hear you gasp, he can see your pupils dilate. You nod up at him so sweetly. He can feel his mouth going dry. "Think you can handle a good face fuckin', Teddy Bear?" he asks you. And what do you do? You open your moist cavern, dangling your tongue out expectantly.

That's what you want, isn't it?

"A'ight, you fuckin' asked for it." he growls, lining up his cock with your mouth, and you-you cheeky little thing-you take him into your mouth and begin to suck. He grunts out a curse, one hand on the back of your head. "Gimme a pinch if I get too rough, sweetheart." he warns you, not giving you a chance to give him some form of reply.

He can feel your hands grab at his thighs as he proceeds thrust into your face, guiding your head, soon finding a rhythm-slowly to begin with, so you can get used to him.

You were so eager, though. Despite gagging around him, tears in your eyes, you made sure to give him enough suction to send tingles throughout his body. Your tongue, too. The hot appendage stroking him in all the right places, giving rise to his moans. "Oh, Teddy Bear--feel s'fuckin' good." he sings your praises.

Balls deep. He's fucking your face, and you're taking it like a fucking trooper, pretty little stars in your eyes while you look up at him. "Ooh, fuck–" a wanton groan escapes him as he throws his head back, your slurps and wet needy chokes complimenting his sounds of approval.

So sweet. So beautiful. Your pretty lips wrapped around his dick, that lovely tongue of yours doing absolute wonders where he's most sensitive. 

You're so observant, listening to and watching his reactions, easily figuring out how to pleasure him, pretty tears streaming from your beautiful eyes.

"S'pretty, yes y'fuckin' are." he praises, panting. He was getting so close, so quickly, and he knew you knew he was. "Ooh, babe…!" he gasps as you suck harder, trying to milk him of all he's worth, making his eyes roll back into his head. He clenches his jaw, his thrusts getting sloppier. "Te-Teddy Bear-" a rasp escapes him, his jaw dropping as he groans.

"Close, 'm close, wh-ere-d'ya-" his voice cracks, and your hands grab hold of his hips, the tell-tale pressure silently telling him inside while you give him a dick melting suck that sends him into a tizzy, three more sloppy thrusts seeing him over the edge in an intense orgasm, knees weak and body shuddering at each shot of cum you all but greedily milk from him while you choke on his cock.

His grip on your head loosens, both of his arms going slack. He could feel you suckling as you pull off him, giving his half-hard cock a sticky kiss before wrapping them pretty lips around his sensitive cock head only to give him yet another dick melting suck, tongue curled around him, making him jolt. He pulls you off his half hard cock, the impish sparkle in your eyes giving rose to something in him.

"Don't be cheeky." he warns you as you curl your fingers around the base of his length. You grin up at him. "What are you gonna do?" you ask daringly, your next words kindling to his darkest desire to turn you into an obedient obsession. "Punish me?"

Boy, little had he known, you were a brat. The corners of his mouth tugged upwards in a no doubt feral grin. "Trust me, sweetheart. You don't want that." he tells you.

You simply shrug, prettily. His last thread was dangerously close to snapping. His desire-his need to make this first time together something special…

"What if I do?"

…all too easily flushed away by you. 

He cranes his head back, takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly.

One chance, he tells himself. He'll only give you one chance.

"Ya might wanna run, babe." he warns you , darkly, scowling down at you. If you did run, oh divine, he'd have to hunt you down, protect you from the horrors of the world, locking you away if he needed to, and care for your every fucking whim, want, and need. He'd make damn sure you'd be perfectly happy. A perfect, sweet, obedient, darling, divine obsession.

You catch him off guard; pulling his wrists towards you sharply, sending him hovering over you with a startled grunt, his large hands pressed into the bed on either side of your head. The sweet titters that pass your lips and ring throughout your bedroom pinball inside his skull. "You already got me, so what's the point, Kats?" you tease him.

You'd love that, wouldn't you, darling?

A feral grin splits across his face.

"Aight, then. I'll make you scream for me, darlin'." he promises you, already pawing away your clothes.

He'll make you Scream, until your voice runs out.

[burnedbyshoto]

hawks_littledove.mp3

— You’re an avid listener to NSFW ASMR artist Hawks. It’s just your luck that he’s offered to have phone sex with you.

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pairing: takami keigo (hawks) x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, slight abuse of power/influence, phone sex, masturbation, degradation, praise, nsfw asmr artist!hawks

word count: 5,018

a/n: my keyboard is broken and i could actually cry. but hey, hawks do be sexy even tho I would never trust him with my life. also LOL this might be a call out to a lot of us, do not be offended or I will cry.

kinktober day 14 main kink: phone sex | kinktober masterlist

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Fantasizing about being in relationships with fictional characters was entirely healthy and normal.

That was something you believed to the core. It was fictional; thus, no one but you were to be hurt at the end of the day. The character, being fake, could never have an opinion because you must be real in order to have an opinion. So when you were between boyfriends, you discovered a new anime, and before you could stop yourself, you fell hard for a character.

It started as a mild obsession.

You had looked up fanart via google images, your heart warming when you saw the plethora of different fanart. The anime itself had been in circulation for a few years now, the manga for much longer, so the content was endless. Then google images wasn’t enough, and you began crossing into Twitter and Tumblr.

The fanart became better, more engrossing, and definitely much more NSFW. And then, one night during your endless rabbit hole down Tumblr after your daily search on Twitter, you stilled when seeing a new type of content.

⇒ grey fullbuster x reader

The obsession grew worse.

So much so that you had followed nearly five hundred self insert writers and artists on Tumblr, and maybe seven hundred artists, meta writers, and thread makers on twitter. But three months into consuming all the content you could find, you came across a new name that made you tilt your head.

Hawks Fierce Wings

It was a name that was being repeated and heavily talked about on both sites. It was an ASMR artist, apparently, and you frowned at the thought. You didn’t have anything against ASMR videos, but you weren’t exactly sure how to handle an anime ASMR artist. Were they cosplaying while making all those weird ASMR sounds? You really didn’t have any idea, but due to the immense boredom of your lazy day in, you decided to hell with it and tried out his most popular video.

It was simply entitled: Hawks is Jealous.

Did you have any idea as to who Hawks was? God, no, you didn’t. But if it was just some random cosplay he was going to do, you didn’t think it was going to matter. So as the only slightly educated ASMR listener, you never truly became invested when it was a thing; you slipped on your earbuds and pressed play.

The introduction screen faded into an illustrated picture of a slightly handsome man, and some calming yet tense music played in the background. You shifted, eyebrows drew as you waited for the ASMR session to begin, and when it did, you were not ready.

“I saw you walking around with that asshole today,” a voice practically growled in your ear, and you froze.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, no!

For almost an entire hour, you sat glued to your sofa, your fingers digging into your lap as the jealous, spiteful words of this man named Hawks poured bitterly in your ear. His words were a near aggravated assault on you and definitely something you were beyond uncomfortable hearing from a stranger, but there was something about his voice that kept you there. Maybe it was the tenor of his tone or the way there was this sly, cunning scent to his words that he seemed to hide deep within his throat, but there was something that kept you there.

The second the passionate, heated kissing noises and heavy moans began to spill from his lips, you screeched, slamming your laptop closed as your cheeks pounded heavily.

Oh my god?!

It took a bit, but eventually, you were able to finish the audio and quickly figured out why he was an NSFW artist. You had never, ever heard a man eat a pussy fake or real as eagerly or vigorously as he did. Your hands were gripping the pants of your leggings, and your chest heaved.

Oh, motherfucking shit.

Finding out there were almost seventy other videos for you to still experience sent you scrambling for more, and eventually, you had to confess you were obsessed. Despite the anime fandoms you had discovered him for, Hawks seemed to be more famous for the content he created as himself. His real name was unknown by the looks of it, and he was only addressed as Hawks by his audience, something you caught on to quickly. So only after creating a new profile for his Youtube account, you made quick work of liking and commenting on every single of his already published seventy-eight nearly one hour and thirty-minute videos. 

Each one was different.

Each one filled with various roadmaps on how Hawks' scenarios would play out for you — the listener. When he used his own persona, he called the listener his little dove or his chicken nugget, sometimes his KFC thigh, or his shish kabob. 

You were glad at the very least he didn’t call you by any of those nicknames when pretending to fuck you at a speed only a “porn-is-my-only-education-on-porn” virgin teenage boy. You knew it wasn’t ideal, usually, but for some reason, it just worked. You commented on everything, read his summaries and thoughts on each video. Eventually, when you found yourself on his final, most recent video, you were ready to go a step further.

The Patreon app on your phone seemed jarringly out of place as you opened the app and subscribed yourself to Hawks' highest tiered option for the price of twenty USD.

And when you got your access to his page, you were immersed in more heavier, better content.

It was a goldmine in a sea of fools gold, and you absolutely went insane.

You weren’t sure if you were insane, needy, or just straight-up idiotic for scrolling to the very first Patreon post and indulging in the content Hawks created. 

There was a stark difference between the warnings alone between the Youtube videos and the Patreon posts. While the porn was readily accessible on Youtube, the kinkiest thing that ever happened in a video was a slight implication that Hawks had left the listener on a vibrator and fuckmachine as he went to go talk to the visiting neighbors.

It was a slight, tiny zone out and miss a detail, but one you had clung onto like an obsessed psycho and even commented on in your comment on the post. Of course, Hawks hadn’t responded, not that you had ever expected him to because all things considered, a video that was eight months old and hadn’t done that well, to begin with, didn’t seem like anything he would remember: notifications and all. 

But Patreon? Oh good, sweet, ravishing Patreon.

The very first video was of the following:

Stepbrother!Hawks fucks Stepsister!Listener in the stairwell during Christmas Dinner.

After praying and swearing to all the deities of the world that you were merely a person with a voice kink for this man and not, in fact, a perverted pseudo-incest worshiper, you clicked on it and began. It was downright sinful.

There were active voices whispered in the background as Hawks laughed about how fucking slutty you were for letting your brother fuck you like this. In the hallway, like a dog, where anyone in your joint family could walk out into. He laughed that you probably wanted it, how your wet ass pussy was greedily sucking him in, so how could you even begin to deny your lust for your brother.

You had to take a break five times during that audio.

Eventually, you do end up catching up.

Each video he had ever posted to your disposal, and most likely due to the different tier levels, you always commented on the videos. Even if it made you feel awkward for lusting over things months old, even if there were no other comments on the videos, which was much more common than you thought, you always commented and liked. It wasn’t anything ever crazy, you had seen the rarest comments bring a whole essay of analysis on why they loved it or the hating words, but you kept it simple.

Just something to keep Hawks spirits high without draining you even further of energy.

A simple: holy shit, that was hot as fucking hell!!!! you never disappoint me!!!

You never expected anything out of it; as a matter of fact, you had merely thought that you were doing the least by merely appreciating his creations when, one night, a few hours after you had gotten home. Your phone chimed with an alert.

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ in surprise; you hadn’t realized there was going to be a new release after he had just updated four days ago. Still, you popped in your earbuds and began the audio with a simple title.

i fuk ur stupid lil pus until u cri

He wasn’t precisely putting much effort into his titles these days, but his tags were definitely accurate and entirely explicit in what was to come. And in this newest video, the prominent tag was degradation.

You weren’t entirely into degradation, but still, you did what you had to do because you weren’t turned off by it. With the beginning sounds of the music playing in the background, you warped into the situation Hawks carefully carved.

But, oh?

Your face simmered with heat as Hawks dirty words dripped from the earbuds, the wet, squelching noise of your cunt and throat being fucked like some inanimate object made you soak through your panties as his disparaging words burned against your spine like a hot brand. After the thirty-minute audio was finished. Your body trembling with the aftershocks of an orgasm that had come despite the lack of actual stimulation of your clit, and you panted on your bed.

Opening your phone once again, you quickly liked the new audio and typed out your comment.

listen, i know i always comment about how fucking hot this shit is, but i have /never/ fucking soaked through my panties… you just did that and i expect a full refund for these panties 💦

You pressed send and, without so much of a second thought, continued your night. You had dinner, talked with friends, and ended the night curled back on the couch with a wine glass in your hand and a simple sit-com playing on the TV. The familiar sound of the Patreon alert rang in your ear, and you frowned, confused.

Grabbing your phone, you opened up the device and nearly shrieked at the sight of the information the notification that said:

Hawks F.W.: lets see those panties before i refund anything

A chill ran down your spine as you quickly put together the indications of this message, and you smirked, despite your quivering hands. 

Me: I have a seven inch dick requirement before seeing any of the goods — yes, that includes my panties

And from that very moment, you began a strange arrangement between you and the NSFW ASMR artist Hawks.

.

..

.

Working was the worst part of your life, you would say.

At work, you would sit in your small 4x4 cubicle, your shelves stacked with plenty of papers and items you needed, not to mention the computer that took up the majority of your desk. You weren’t quite sure what your job here was, you sort of sat at your desk and did meaningless assignments when assigned, but you did nothing for the most part. 

Before becoming an active Hawks stan, you would spend your time doing nothing playing video games. You had somehow managed to install a VPN onto your hard drive so that your employers wouldn’t be able to see what was on your screen outside of the home screen. They couldn’t trace what you did all day, but they could care less, given you got all your work completed on time and done in an over exceptional way.

But lately, since you had dropped into this… engrossed whore like relationship with Hawks, things changed. 

To be honest, it still shocks you to no end when he tells you that he had always been aware of you. Well, with your consistent, ever appearing comments on his posts and overall enthusiasm for everything he posted, it was hard to not be aware. The mental image of your soaked through panties after a long day at his own work had sent him over the edge, and he finally messaged you.

Through the DM’s in Patreon, the two of you grew to become quite the friends with benefits. He would send you countless personalized audio files because you had quickly confessed to your voice kink and how his voice sent your stomach into hormonal knots. In return, you’d send the picture of an occasional soaked panty, and if he was lucky, an audio clip of your pathetic whines back to his audios.

You couldn’t complain about this arrangement.

But as the number of his patrons doubled, and he wanted to entice his subscribers with paying him even more money, Hawks began to offer a bimonthly personalized five minute audios for his $20 tier. The fans poured into that spot, and Hawks and proudly sent you the new number of adoring fans he was getting. On account of growing platforms such as Tiktok, the number of new listeners he got was nearly exponential, as he currently passed one million followers last week. 

The cheeky bastard was also making enough money to stop working his regular work hours anymore. Choosing to transition slowly into his Patreon career while recording.

Hawks, however, seemed to have other ideas for your eventual personalized voice audio.

Hawks had simply asked if, by any chance, you were going to be working tomorrow the night before. Groaning loudly in recognition of your work schedule, you had texted him back that you were going to be working. Snidely including the fact that you weren’t rich like him, you needed the tedious old nine to five job.

Hawks: how utterly boring anyway u can b free around 2?

Me: Eh… probably not. Busy girl w busy schedule, ill be back from lunch so no break Why?

Hawks: well, u knw tht uve been amzing & th bst follower so i wanted 2 give u smthing better then the personalized audio

Me: Oh? Well, what is it?’

Hawks: pick up tmrw n find out

He had changed the subject immediately afterward by dodging all of your questions with ease. So you dropped it, and the two of you resumed a night of flirting. But now, sitting in your small cubicle, your eyes flashing to the clock that read 1:57 p.m., sweat began to build on your palm.

You peered down to your phone as you waited for something, anything from Hawks to show up. The fucker was too cheeky, evasive, and quick for his own good. You felt like pouting as you glared at the phone, waiting for the screen to light up.

And you stilled when finally, at precisely 1:59 p.m., your phone gleamed with light. You couldn’t abandon your computer mouse quicker than you did as you grabbed your phone, unlocking it, and reading the message from Hawks.

Hawks: do u have earbuds?

Me: Yes?

Hawks: good put them on n pick up

The moment you had read the first message, you were already pulling out your earbuds, synching them up to your phone, and placing them into your ear. But your jaw dropped when, for the first time, the call feature highlighted onto the screen, the time immediately changing to that of 2:00 p.m. The decline or accept button had never looked as daunting as it did right now.

Despite the call trying to go through, you still saw his follow up.

Hawks: if u dont pick up u wont get shit

[Accept]

You felt your heart hammering in your chest as both fear, apprehension, and excitement boiled through your veins, the hammering blood pounding in your ears as you waited for some sort of noise on the opposite side of the line.

“Little dove?” Hawks' voices filled your ears, and despite yourself, you smiled softly. The naturalness of his voice sends warm thumps down your spine.

“Hi, Hawks,” you whisper breathlessly, your head already checking to make sure your neighboring cubicle mates didn’t try to look over the divisions to stare at you. For the most part, the office building was quiet except for the phone calls, the clanking of computer keys, and the monotonous music playing softly on the speaker's head. 

“Whatcha doing?” he drawled, and you felt your skin heat up when you heard the all too familiar sound of his shoes hitting the top of his desk, the soft whine of his chair as he leaned back onto it. “Are you really at work?”

“What do you mean, am I really at work?” you squeaked, half horrified at the way the lazy, warm heat of lust was infiltrating your body at the sound of his voice, and the annoyance that he thought you had been lying? “Of course I am; it’s two p.m. on a Wednesday!”

“Ah, so little dove-chan is a raging pervert who engages in phone sex to bypass her long hours at work?” Hawks sighed his tone that of understanding and dismissal. You splutter. “You never fail to surprise me.”

“I do not do… that!” you stammer, your face feeling like hot cinders, your fingers and eyes double-checking to make sure that the audio was going to your earbuds and your earbuds only. You also couldn’t help the way your eyes swept around you, trying to make sure you hadn’t accidentally invited unwanted attention. “I said I was busy!”

“But, you picked up my call?”

“You said, or else!”

“Mmm, okay, I think I see,” Hawks tutted, and although you had never seen what you supposed to be his handsome face, you could imagine a lazy, toothy smirk on his face. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind using your little cubicle to talk you into fucking yourself good for me.”

Your jaw drops.

It hits the desk, and the muffled shriek of utter humiliation is only silenced because you bit onto your tongue like a rabid animal.

“Aw, you sound so excited for me already, little dove. I bet you want to know what I’m going to do to you, don’t you? I just know that I’m going to make you feel so... good…”

“Hawks!” you plea in a hushed whisper, your heart hammering where you sat frozen like a deer in headlights. Sure, you had definitely played his audios before to pass the time, but never before in your existence had you had actual phone sex. This was riskier than just listening to his audios; his audios always had a pattern, a way to escape from the madness of his voice when people were closer than you’d like. But this? No, there was no escape. “I’m at work! I c-can’t!”

“But, fuck, I want you so bad,” Hawks' voice dipped into a gravely tone, his voice just perfectly scratchy enough that your shoulders trembled in unspoken, untouched want. “I want to feel your cunt around my cock, baby, your pussy is so hot and I want to be the fucking lucky bastard that gets to fuck you through your bed.”

“O-Oh my god…”

“I’ve been thinking of what your tits look like,” Hawks continues on, his voice continuing in the style you liked the most. It was raw, heavy, and deep. No character impersonations, just him, pure Hawks. “I hope they bounce the way they do when I imagine you riding me. I want to see you moan when I kiss the underside of your tit, I want to see your face when you realize that you’re my girl, nobody's else's, but mine.”

Heat floods your panties at his words, your shallow breaths making him chuckle on the other end. 

“You’d be so lucky to be just mine, wouldn’t you, little dove?” Hawks snaps, his voice demanding a response, and you heave.

You look around, no one is near, and you croak out: “I’d be so lucky.”

“Louder.”

“I’d be so lucky.”

“Mm, there we go,” Hawks laughs, and your ears prickle for any noise that may indicate that someone was listening in. “What? Are you getting nervous that your needy ass will be heard by your coworkers right now? Answer me.”

“Mhmm,” you hum loudly, your cunt pulsing with more incredible heat and your hands shaking with a slight fear of being caught.

“Aww, don’t worry, little dove. I’m sure your boss will understand that you’re my newest fucktoy and will let me continue. Maybe they’ll want to join in?”

You whimper softly, shifting in your seat at that thought. You didn’t really want your boss coming anywhere near you, he was old and gross for one, and nothing could take the place of this beautiful man's voice in your ear right now.

“Oh, was that a no? You don’t want other people fucking you, do you, y/n? I bet you only want to have my cock in your tight little pussy, bet you want to watch the way that greedy little thing sucks me in, begging for my seed. Would you want me to cum deep inside you? You would like that little dove; you’d like to be full of my cum.”

“H-Hawks,” you keen as quietly as you can, your hips shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your heart hammering in your throat. The pressing heat in your cunt is growing, your panties growing with wet slick as Hawks' voice whispers down your ear, filling every empty and void space in your brain until you were having trouble focusing on the very much public spot you were in.

Hawks let out a soft, guttural moan, and you froze, face entirely combusting into an inferno as the familiar slick slapping of his fapping cock filled your ear. Immediately, you forgot everything.

“A-Are you—?!” you splutter, unable to find the words or the energy to come up with a way to ask if he was masturbating right now. Your eyes spun, your mind in a complete haze as soft, raunchy moans spilled from his lips, striking against your nerves and soul with each successive sound.

“I’m only trying to help you out here, dove,” Hawks growled, undoubtedly in effect to a rather loud smack of his fist colliding with his thrusting hip. “You’re the little office slut who picked up a phone call to entice in phone sex. I bet you knew exactly what I was going to do, and your pathetic, needy whore self caved to my instructions.”

Your fingers curled into the armrest of your chair.

“I bet this makes your boring ass job tolerable, the perfect distraction to a shit job, then imagining a few minutes of fucking yourself against my hard cock.”

“That’s not true!”

“No?” Hawks laughed, not believing you any more than you did. “So you wouldn’t hate it if I showed up and fucked you into the wall of your cubicle? You wouldn’t mind if I claimed your sweet-smelling pussy against your desk for everyone to hear? I know you can scream like a bitch in heat. I know that pretty little cunt of yours would milk my cock dry. Oh, I just know you would look so fucking sexy with your back arched, eyes closed, and you begging for hours just to cum. You wouldn’t cum without my permission, right?”

You gasped, heart fluttering, hammering in your chest as you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

“I need a verbal answer, little dove.”

The heat in your core was blistering, your thighs shaking with your unadulterated lust and need as you ground into the cushion of your chair. All logic and moral long gone as he snarled and moaned your name in your ear, the slick of his fapping cock echoing like a great bell in your ear. You wanted to hear him cum, wanted to listen to the pithering sound of his echoing moans as he spilled the contents of his balls onto his hand — and how you wished it was your womb.

“I won’t cum w-without your permission!” you whispered, your skin shivering with your fear of being caught. 

“God, you sound like such a dirty fucking bitch. I bet your pussy is fucking soaked already. Bet you really want to run that slutty embarrassed finger against your clit but don’t want to be caught by your perverted coworkers,” Hawks hissed, his breaths turning into steady, heavy hot pants. You mewl softly, confirming his spoken thoughts, and he huffs out a laugh. “How many fingers do you normally shove up that pretty cunt of yours, little dove?”

“T-Three!” you gasp, your forehead pressing to the cool of your desk, your eyes glazed over and looking at the entrance of your cubicle, fervently wishing that no one tries to check on you as you grind against your stable chair. “O-Only three fit.”

“Fuck, you really do have a tight cunt, don’t you,” Hawks snaps, the wet sounds of his fisting hand around his cock a beautiful melody in your ear that makes you whine at the back of your throat. “Bet you can’t even fit cocks up your cunt without lube, huh. You gotta stay on top, or else you’ll get hurt with how thick and long my cock will be up that baby pussy of yours.”

“H-Hawks!” you grit out, the friction of grinding on the seat no longer working.

“Go to the bathroom, now,” Hawks commands, the small gasps on his voice from his approaching orgasm more than enough ammo for you to do as told.

You sprint to the bathroom, the slick of your cunt hot, and evident to you as you sped to the bathroom. Your phone clenched in your hand as you locked the door behind you, glad the room was empty. Barely managing to get yourself into the stall, the toilet paper placed on the seat as you raised your legs up, already prepared. The skirt you wore was bunched above your ass, and the panties you wore, stretching out around your knees.

“Sounds like you’re ready to start fucking that pussy for me,” Hawks laughs, but there's no humor, just bite. “Put in three fingers, now.”

Without even arguing or caring, three fingers slip into your cunt, and you cry at the feeling of your fingers completely stretching you out. The smell of sex and slick filling your nose as your fingers slick up, fucking your tight cunt as you moan louder and louder for Hawks. 

“God, your fucking pussy is so fucking wet, I can hear it from here!” Hawks moans, the frantic sound of his drilling hips gaining speed and momentum. 

“I want it to be you!” you moan, your face burning in your humiliation. “I want it to be you fucking my pussy, claiming me in this bathroom. I need you, Hawks, I want your cock so badly!”

“Fuck,” Hawks gasps, something tumbling in the background. “Such sweet words for a fucking dirty ass cumslut,” he growls, and your legs shake, your clit and cunt thrumming with your increasing arousal and pit of tightness in your core. 

“HAWKS, FUCK!” you sob as your hips try to start a merciless speed against your fingers, your body trying to match the speed in which Hawks was fucking his own hand.

“Keep screaming my name, whore.” Hawks gasps, his noises of pleasure beginning to grow louder and louder, your eyes crossing in satisfaction. “Screaming my name like the fucking slutty mess you are. All this shit just to get me to fuck you? God, you’re so fucking pathetic y/n. Begging for me, begging for more? I think you’re my favorite little dove ever, gonna make you mine whenever I get to fuck that pussy.”

“Hawks!” you wail his name again, your arms and pussy throbbing with the energy it takes to keep up with his inhumane speeds. Your vision seeing stars as you tremble more and more, your legs slipping from the toilet seat, yet. “I am your whore, your little dove. Please let me come, please! You fuck me so well, fucking hell, please, I needa cum, I needa cum!”

“Cum with me,” he snaps, his voice so deep, so dangerously smooth. It was precisely what you needed, the voice kink you had for his tenor exactly fulfilled entirely with that simple, last command. And just like that, your jaw slackens, head slamming backward, and pleasurable waves crash through you.

Your fingers still rock at your clit, and your vice gripped walls, your toes curling within your shoes as you soundlessly scream. Hawks, on the other end, is practically snarling, voice deep and altogether dangerous as grunt after grunt leaves him, and you can imagine the milk-white cum splattered all over his chest and hand. A beautiful, perfect sight that you wish you could see for yourself.

Exhaustion settles in your bones as you sit on the toilet, still entirely exhausted as you heave for air. 

“I think that was the best fucking orgasm I ever had,” you mumble, your eyes closed, not ready to stand up and move. “Thank you.”

“I’m good at what I… at what I do,” Hawks stumbles, husky exhaustion ringing in his own voice. “Now, little dove, finish up work, and I promise there’ll be a surprise waiting for you when you’re done.”

Not entirely agreeing, but not disagreeing with his command to go finish you last… two and a half hours at work, you begrudgingly said goodbye to Hawks before washing your hands and exiting the bathroom.

When five o’clock came, you watched as your phone screen lit up, and your face flushed as you read the DM from Hawks.

Hawks: this is my fav audio now ↳ hawks_littledove.mp3 but you surprised me today, so in case u ever want to have more fun sometime  call me 03-9183-2495 ;)

[komotionlessqueenmm]

One man's trash, is another man's treasure.

(3-4)

Short story # 6

2,216 - Words

Fandom - House of Wax (2005)

Pairing - Bo Sinclair X Reader

Summary - The reader finds herself & her 4 month old son stranded in Ambrose. While Bo finds himself enamored with the woman, wanting nothing more than to protect and provide for the two of them.

Warnings - Some dark topics, talk of abusive relationships, eventual blood & death, eventual smut. (I'm not sure what else tbh)

Notes - At this point both Bo and (Y/n) are really feeling that connection between them.

Pt. 1 ~ Pt. 2 ~ Pt. 3 ~ Pt. 4

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By the end of the day (Y/n)'s jeep was all fixed up, but with as late in the evening as it was she decided to stay another night, with some encouragement from Bo of course. While (Y/n) and Von slept soundly in the guest bedroom, Bo met his brothers down at the garage, discussing what they should do, and if they should do anything in the first place. "I don't know Bo, her ex tried killing her because she was pregnant... She'll be running her whole life from a man like that." Lester sighed, not wanting anything to happen to (Y/n). "So we let her stay here, we can protect her from him easily." Bo shrugged. "What about when she realizes what happened to the people here? Or she finds out about Vincent's projects." Lester argued. "We'll explain it, make her understand." Bo countered. "How?" Lester asked feeling a little concerned. "I don't know yet." Bo admitted with a sigh. "I think we should start by introducing her to Vincent." He continued his thought, glancing to his twin, who made an almost concerned groan. "If she can accept him, I'm sure she'll accept the rest." Bo lit a new cigarette after finishing his statement. "And if she doesn't?" Lester asked. "That's not an option." Bo's smirk made worry spark in Lester's heart. Despite this however he chose to keep his mouth shut, and allowed his older brother to do whatever he had in mind.

When morning came, (Y/n) woke up early and cooked breakfast. "Morning." Bo murmured with a sleepy smile on his face, having been woken from the smell of bacon. "Morning Bo, I hope you don't mind." (Y/n) smiled sheepishly as she looked to what all she had cooked. "Not at all." Bo shook his head, happily accepting the cup of coffee she handed him. "Great." (Y/n) smiled brightly, the pair of them taking a seat beside eachother, eating their breakfast in a comfortable silence. Excluding the occasional hum of approval Bo gave when he bit into something new. And by the time they finished Von began crying from upstairs, cueing (Y/n) to fetch him to begin his morning routine.

"Hey I was going to do those." (Y/n) pouted playfully when she entered the kitchen, finding Bo working on the dishes. "Eh don't worry about it, you cooked I'll clean up." Bo winked making (Y/n) blush as she sat at the counter, adjusting herself to feed a fussy Von. "My brother wants to meet you before you leave." Bo stated casually. "Really?" (Y/n) smiled softly. "Mhm." Bo nodded his head with a hum. "I'd love to meet him." (Y/n)'s grin widened a little, feeling honored that he'd want to meet her. "We'll meet him up at the house of wax in an hour." Bo confirmed as he finished up the last dish. "Sounds fun, I've never been to a house of wax before." She hummed as she propped Von onto her shoulder, burping him. "I'm gonna go take a quick shower, let me know when you're ready." Bo insisted casually as he moved to wipe the spit up off of Von's chin. "Okay will do." (Y/n) smiled with appreciation, hopping up from her seat to get herself and Von dressed.

Once inside of the wax Museum (Y/n)'s attention was drawn to just about everything within sight, making Bo chuckle as he watched her ogle everything. "I take it you like it?" Bo mused with a grin. "I'm a little obsessed, is everything in here really made of wax?" She asked turning to look Bo in the eye. "Just about everything, most of its wax, but some of it isn't." Bo shrugged a little. "The vase?" (Y/n) asked as she pointed to the large decorative vase. "Wax." Bo nodded. "The couch?" She pointed to the couch two wax figures sat upon. "Wax." He chuckled. "How about the...." (Y/n) looked around before realization struck her. "The building?" She turned her attention to Bo, her eyes widening when he nodded his head yes. "Wow that's insane." (Y/n) chuckled with astonishment. "But you like it yeah?" Bo asked. "I love it! I can't imagine how long this must have taken to craft all of this, but it's very impressive." (Y/n) beamed making Bo chuckle softly. "Vincent will be happy to hear that you like his work." Bo mused. "Wait he did all of this?" (Y/n)'s eyes widened. "Not all of it, but a lot of it." Bo explained. "Wow I wish I had that kinda talent." (Y/n) chucked softly, jumping when a statue in the back moved. "Alright no need to scare her." Bo chuckled with a shake of his head, the once statue approaching the pair. "I was not expecting you to move, I really thought you were a statue." (Y/n) chuckled nervously.

"(Y/n) this is my brother Vincent." Bo introduced the two, the masked brother timidity offering (Y/n) his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you." (Y/n) smiled looking at his mask with curiosity. "Is your prosthetic made of wax?" She asked without thought, but he only tilted his head to the side. "Your mask." She clarified, smiling when he nodded his head yes. "That's very cool, did you make it yourself?" (Y/n) asked chuckling when he nodded his head again. "You don't talk much huh?" She tilted her own head a little. "He can't." Bo clarified unknowingly making (Y/n) suddenly feel guilty. "Oh I didn't know, I'm sorry." (Y/n) ducked her head down, feeling stupid for opening her mouth. "Vincent do you wanna show her?" Bo asked his brother, who hesitated for a moment before nodding his head in agreement. (Y/n) picked her head up, watching in amazement as Vincent removed his mask. "Wow." She muttered under her breath, taking in the sight of his face, frowning a little when he looked away from her. "What happened?" (Y/n) turned to Bo. "We were born as Siamese twins, and our daddy was an unorthodoxed doctor. He was able to separate us as infants." Bo explained suddenly feeling subconscious himself. "Wow... That's incredible." (Y/n) murmured softly. "You're both incredible." She chuckled softly looking back to Vincent, who smiled back at her before putting his mask back on.

--Later that day--

Having decided on stay one more day (Y/n) sat with Bo in his living room talking about this and that, and joking about nearly everything. "(Y/N)!" A voice yelled from outside, cutting off (Y/n)'s laughter, a look of terror filling her eyes in an instant. "(Y/N)!" The man yelled from outside for a second time. "It's him... It's Trent, he's come for me!" (Y/n) panicked, explaining to Bo why she suddenly got so fearful. "(Y/N) I KNOW YOU'RE HERE!" Trent yelled, sounding a bit closer to Bo's house now. "I'll keep you safe." Bo promised before he rose to his feet, grabbing the shotgun he kept near the front door. "Wait he's dangerous." (Y/n) rushed to follow Bo outside, leaving Von in his crib asleep. "COME OUT COME OUT COME OUT!" Trent taunted from the center of town, his attention turning to a pissed off Bo Sinclair. "Found yourself a gullible local huh?" Trent sneered at (Y/n) who ignored her fear and continued following Bo. "I suggest you get outta here and forget about (Y/n)." Bo warned, resting his shotgun on his shoulder, standing about eight feet from Trent, who only scoffed at his threat. "How about you go fuck your sister, and leave me to my business." Trent hissed, his words only fueling the hatred Bo felt for this man. "Your business best consist of you getting outta my town." Bo glared Trent down, who only chuckled. "Sure I'll get outta your town, once I have her." Trent pointed to (Y/n), but Bo only pushed (Y/n) to stand back a little.

"That ain't gonna happen." Bo shook his head with a mocking grin on his face. "How did you even find me!?" (Y/n) asked the question that had been plaguing her mind. "Remember my buddy Stan? I had him bug your car with a GPS tracker." Trent mocked as he flashed them the receiver of the tracker. "Now get over here." He growled as he pulled a pistol from the back of his belt. As Trent trained the pistol, Bo stepped in front of (Y/n) training his shotgun on Trent. "I'll only warn you one more time." Bo hissed, resisting the urge to just blow the motherfucker away. "Fuck you, you fucking redneck." Trent taunted before he pulled the trigger, but his gun jammed and Bo smirked. "Nah fuck you." Bo retorted before pulling the trigger, blowing open Trent's chest. (Y/n) screamed at the sound, her heart racing in her chest. Almost like everything was moving in slow motion, (Y/n) watched Trent's body hit the ground with a thud, dead as dead gets. Bo was quick to spin on his heel, gently setting the gun on the ground he scooped (Y/n)'s shaking form into his arms. "Sh darling it's alright, I've got you. You're safe now darling, I've got you." He murmured against the crown of her head, carrying her back into his house. "It's okay (Y/n), rest now. I'll take care of everything, I'll take care of you." Bo promised as he laid her down on the couch, lovingly stroking her hair, before he kissed her temple. The events suddenly flipping a highly protective and tender switch within Bo, not that (Y/n) was complaining in the slightest, taking great comfort in his words and actions.

A few hours passed and in that time, (Y/n) had calmed down, and thought about a lot of things. Bo had dealt with the body and come back to (Y/n)'s side within the first hour, allowing her to cuddle into his side and think. "Bo what is this place?" (Y/n) asked with worry laced in her voice. "What?" Bo frowned his brows, a confused smile on his face. "Please don't lie to me anymore, please tell me what this place is. This town its just not right, in all the time I've been here I've only seen you Lester and Vincent." (Y/n) explained, suddenly feeling concerned for her baby's well being. "I want to tell you, I've wanted to tell you for a while now... But I don't want to scare you away." Bo hung his head. "Not telling me is scaring me, Bo please tell me." She insisted. "You know I would never hurt you or Von right?" Bo asked, his eyes the tiniest bit glossy. "Of course I know that." (Y/n) licked her lips, ignoring the worry bubbling at the back of her mind. "The town been abandoned for a decade, me and my brothers took it over a few years ago." Bo began. "Brothers?" (Y/n) asked having caught the plural. "Lester is mine and Vincent's younger brother." Bo explained frowning a little when (Y/n)'s eyes filled with worry.

"Lester convinces people to come to Ambrose, and me and Vincent kill them." Bo revealed, his confession making (Y/n)'s breath hitch in her throat. "Lester called me after he dropped you off at the gas station, and he told me to help you out, he insisted that we spared you." Bo licked his lips nervously. "I wasn't going to listen to him, but when you didn't snoop around town like everyone else, I was curious about you... Then I seen you, and your baby, and any dark thought I had washed away in an instant. The more we talked, the more I was intrigued with you... The more I wanted to protect you, especially when you told me about your ex." Bo admitted, his words surprisingly soothing (Y/n). "I'm sorry..." Bo muttered under his breath. "I forgive you." (Y/n) smiled softly, sitting up she adjusted herself to straddle Bo's lap. "I forgive you." She repeated herself as she took his face between her hands. "You've been better to me than most people in my life, and while the knowledge of what you and Vincent do... Is almost heartbreaking... I forgive you. I know you won't harm me or Von, to proved yourself to me today when you saved me from Trent." (Y/n) leaned in and gently kissed Bo's lips, pulling away all to soon. "I don't want to leave, I want to stay here with you... To love you despite the things you do, to love you despite the monster you can be... I want you for who you are, darkness and all." (Y/n) confessed, making Bo's mind go hazy with adoration. "Please stay." He muttered subconsciously. "I am." (Y/n) rest her forehead against his, smiling when he wrapped his arms around her waist.

----

Part three is complete!!!!

Part four will hopefully be posted tomorrow evening.

（＾_＾）

[youryanderedaddy]

Imagine a yandere ghost who is cursed is trapped in the doll, so one day a family came to live in his house, but what the ghost did not expect is to fall in love with the couple's eldest daughter. Maybe this yandere ghost (doll) use the younger brother to get closer to his beloved...

I didn't really include the doll, but the overall idea is here ;)

Tw: nsfw, non - con, underage sex? (The reader is meant to be around 18, her brother is 16 - 17, but the ghost is 100+ so idk), (technically) incest, ghosts, possession, possessive/obsessive behavior, slight parental neglect ig

You knew it was a mistake moving into the old house up the hill. You tried arguing with your parents so many times about the mansion being hidden in the woods, so far away from any civilization, bringing up the fact it hadn't been bought for the last 8 years despite the insanely low price or the news about the previous owners dying in their sleep just like that, from "natural causes" even though they were an young energetic couple. But of course your worries had been discarded so easily since your younger siblings were ecstatic, constantly talking about finally living in a castle, which was obviously pushing it too far, but kids will be kids.

Your family was big, consisting of your mother, father, two younger sisters and a brother currently in his late teens. Your siblings managed to take all the nice bright rooms on the second floor so you were forced to sleep in the attic. At first it didn't seem so bad, yes, the place was dark and dusty, the space was limited, but it was a quiet spot and there were many interesting things left there to explore and discover.

The first week you discovered a huge box full of old books, medals, notebooks and different souvenirs from all over the world. The second week you found a few paintings covered by a thin disheveled cloak, most of them depicting a pretty young boy with golden locks and sad green eyes, dresses in an expensive silky clothing resembling what was nowadays considered an elegant suit. You didn't pay it much mind yet the miserable longing gaze of the kid haunted your dreams in the following days.

During the third week you noticed that things were going missing one by one. First it was your favorite lipstick, then your new dress, and suddenly your favorite items were gone just like that. On top of all, almost as if fate was tickling your paranoia, you could hear certain sounds at night that were too distorted be natural and too human to belong to an animal. There were sobs, loud and tormented, sometimes you could make up a few words in a language no one spoke anymore. You slept less and less each night, you could swear you felt someone's lingering touch on your shoulders, them gently stroking your hair and even pressing their cold unmoving lips on yours. This was usually the point when you opened your eyes and screamed in fear only to realize you were alone in the room. There was nobody there.

Still you decided to speak with your parents about the creepy events taking place in the attic. Much to your dismay they brushed your concerns off once again, laughing softly and calling you a scaredy - cat, going as far as to joke around about your "oh so creative" imagination getting the best of you just like it did in your childhood. But this time you insisted on holding your ground, almost begging them to take action and help you. At the end your mother decided to let you sleep in your brother's room for a while until you calm down, and as embarrassing it was to share a room with a hormonal teen, it was better than constantly being on the edge and losing sleep. Or so you thought.

The first night you slept in Steve's room nothing out of the ordinary happened and for the first time in weeks you actually managed to rest. The second night was blissfully peaceful as well and you quickly fell into a deep dreamless slumber.

The third night started well, just like the previous two. Your brother was tired from studying all day and went to bed early, giving you the freedom to relax a little bit before following his example. You could read a book or try to revise for your exam tomorrow, maybe even call your bestfriend and finally let her know all about your new classmates and just how boring life in the village was. But in that moment all these suggestion sounded annoying, nothing was interesting enough to hold your interest for more than a minute. Thinking about what to do next, you suddenly became aware that your body was tense and tired, but your mind was restless. After all you hadn't had time for self - care between the paranoia episodes and the fear, maybe it was finally time to do something nice and therapeutic for yourself.

You snatched a quick look at Steve and he was sleeping soundly, snoring from time to time, his usually angry face now calm and childlike. Making sure there was no one in the room awake, you finally slipped a hand down your pajama bottom until you felt the soft fabric of your panties. You closed your eyes and run a finger up and down your clothed sex, following the line of your slit. Your pussy throbbed at the sudden contact, the lack of pleasure in the last few weeks making it sensitive to the touch. You pushed your underwear lower so it hanged around your legs, and shoved one finger into your warm hole, enjoy the way your walls clenched around the digit. You flicked your clit gently, feeling it swell from the arousal, rubbing slow circles and pressing on your sweet spot every once in a while.

Your free hand went to your breasts, bare under the comfy oversized shirt, and awoke the cherry nipples with subtle pinches causing them to harden. You couldn't help but moan quietly as you decreased the pace of which you teased your hole and added a second finger in your pussy, fucking yourself on it. You were so focused on chasing your pleasure you didn't even notice the hand on your thigh pulling your own away from your excited throbbing core and replacing it with a big hard cock. Only once its head reached your tight entrance and pressed on it did your mind register the atrocious size difference. Your words stilled in your throat, the sudden panic rising in your chest, making your vision blurry and your cheeks rosy pink. You finally opened your eyes, your heart racing at the image of your younger brother towering above you with his member so close to entering your heat.

"Steve, what are you doing?" You whispered as you tried to squirm away from the boy, but he was quicker in pinning your wrists above your head in a deadlock. When did the male become so strong? Just yesterday he would ask you to open up his water bottle and help him with his math homework and now he was doing this...

"My name is Henry, my love." The voice was different from your brother's, lower and huskier, gentler in a way. You narrowed your eyes and observed the teenager's face, gasping as you noticed that his eyes had changed from black to green, yet all his other features had stayed stayed the same. You wanted to ask so many questions - who is Henry, why were your sibling's eyes and voice different from before - but you were quickly shut by one stern gaze. "I used to live here 80 years ago." The stranger started off with an unexpectedly soft tone as his grip on your wrists loosened. "I'm a ghost. I possessed your brother." He confessed calmly while you watched his pink lips part slightly with each breath as if you were in a trance before you found the strength to break your silence.

"Why are doing this to me? Why did you take my brother's body?" You questioned him manically, feeling like a confused little lamb sent to the slaughter, trembling and stuttering in front of a knife. Henry simply chuckled at your adorable dumbfounded expression and lowered his torso until his face was mere inches away from yours and you could feel his ice - cold breath on your warm red cheek. "Because I love you, darling." The ghost replied with a confident smirk that looked so weird and unnatural on the younger boy's face you almost gagged. Before you had the chance to say anything, he continued. "I've been wanting you for a while now, little girl. And with this body I can finally have you all to myself." You opened your mouth in a protest but your screams were easily muffled by a harsh kiss and a wet tongue down your throat. Next thing you knew the man had pushed your brother's manhood into your wet sloppy cunt in one sharp thurst and in your despair you had yelled for help once again, the ghost taking your whimpers greedily and shushing them away. Struggling was pointless.

In the next hour you were reduced to a sweaty whimpering mess of pain and arousal, fear and pleasure. The ghost was fucking you in a fast brutal pace while his free hand was playing with your clit, bringing you so damn close but never enough to send you over the edge. You were crying and your whole body was aching, your tits red from the rough manhandlind, your lips bruised and swollen from the rough kisses and bites. There were purple hickeys adorning your neck, belly and thighs and you went quiet in embarrassment every time you wondered how you would be able to hide them the next day.

"Please, whoever you are, let me come, I'm begging you." You pleaded desperately as you arched your back to meet the next couple of deep thrusts. Your cheeks were wet with tears and you could even taste the bitter salty flavor in your mouth mixed with your own drool and saliva. Upon hearing your meek pleas the man mercifully started hitting your cervix with each shove until his moves became sharp and quick, targeting your g-spot. You were so close you could feel your abdomen clench and tighten from the tingling sensitations. "Please..." You uttered weakly again, making doe eyes at your brother.

"Say you love me. Tie your soul to mine forever and I'll give you exactly what you want, beloved." Henry basically growled in your ear as he groped your breasts, squizing lightly the soft flesh. Your mind was so hazy and clouded you weren't sure how to respond so you just repeated the words easiest to grasp. "Love... you... forever, ngggh..." You muttered under your breath before moaning wantonly when the forceful thrusts finally sent you over the edge and your pussy clamped down in a big, satisfying orgasm. Your bliss was short - lived because soon the ghost was pounding into you again and again, keeping you too tired to move, struggle or even speak properly besides whimpering every once in a while. The rest of the night was a blur but eventually you fell asleep from the exhausting and the pleasure.

You woke up sore, your eyes red and puffy, your muscles tense and unnatentive. You rushed to look at your brother, but the teenager was sleeping just as peacefully as he did eight hours ago. One side of you was more than glad to know everything that had happened was simply a bad, terrible dream, while the other one still felt extremely uncomfortable and uneasy. You couldn't bear staying in the room any longer so you got dressed and went into the hall. Everyone else was still asleep and you felt as restless as if you hadn't caught a blink at all. You finally gave in to your paranoia and climbed the stars leading to the third floor.

You knelt on the ground where you had found the beautiful paintings. Those green eyes from your dream seemed way too familiar for it to be a coincidence. When you finally got a hold of your favorite piece, the one with the sad young boy, you had to cover your mouth to suppress the shock. There wasn't an aristocrat with golden locks on the picture anymore.

Now the one trapped in the painting was none other than you own brother, Steve. Instead of misery and pain in mysterious blue eyes, there was only terror in his tormented black ones. You screamed for the last time before you dropped the picture on the ground and ran away from the attic, the tears streaming down your face, but unfortunately, there was no escape from the restless dead souls.

[asirensrage]

Ridea, you don't know us. We mainly kept a kind eye on proceedings during the Darkling crisis in the OC community a year or so back until it calmed down. We don't have a name but we are just a group of writers who want the community to be a good place for people. We are like Batman but better ROFL. We kept a weather eye on the people involved in the Darkling crisis and there was a few stirring trouble, believe me, including anons and off anon. We see the struggle of littler OC blogs being ignored or overlooked in favor of the 'popular' blogs. We also watched the insane OCFA try and take power. As of now, we are currently watching Maddie's next move too. We are also watching certain people who changed URLs lately; there are a handful we are trying to keep track of that our informants feed information back to us on. This in relation to separate private accusations against these peeps of stealing OCs and ideas, as well as bullying. Nothing is proven. Plus since we aren't OFCA we aren't going to share these URLs publicly either. But these people are under observation, close observation, and there is no escape ROFL. We will act if anything is proven but mind you, in a safe and respectful way. Harassing and abusing people on anonymous is not our way. Why are we telling you this? Because we like you, Ridea. We like your spunky attitude and sense of justice. We love your spite porn. So we are considering asking you to join us but we just need to be sure of you and we aren't quite there yet. We have to have trust in the ranks. But consider this a friendly housecall 😋

Anon, I don't know what you expected sending this to me of all people. I don't know what interaction you've seen me have in the past that made you think I was someone who would accept this bull. But okay, I'll respond.

First off, how are you going to claim you're not the same anons behind the ofca when you're claiming the exact same things they did. This entire asks sounds like it came from them, from the information you're trying to peddle to the way you sign off. Saying you're not them doesn't make it true. Especially when the evidence points otherwise. Nice try but I'm not stupid. I can see exactly what you're trying to do. Stop claiming you're watching people. It's fucking creepy and no one asked you to.

Second, I was only around for part of your so called "darkling crisis" which is stupid, in my opinion. Besides that, you realize I am a fan of the character right? That I have fics starring him? I enjoy problematic characters and we've been through my thoughts on purity policing. And with that...

Why are you so obsessed with specific people? Move the fuck on.

Your focus on "popular" blogs is unhealthy. You need to stop focusing on what others apparently have and focus on your own content. You spend so much time harassing people on anon (despite claiming you don't but I sure as hell didn't ask for this mini essay in my inbox) that you're wasting time you could spend on creating things. If you're that focused on follower count, which people can't even see, go on tiktok or instagram where people think that matters. If you're concerned about reblogs and engagement, the only way to get that is to engage with people in return. You can't assume they'll come to you. Stop focusing on others and create the things you want.

Finally, I don't care if you like me or not. I'm not interested. I've never been interested. You go back and forth between warnings, wanting me to join you and vilifying me. Make up your mind. Let me be clear though. The answer is no. I don't want your "housecalls". I don't want your support because I'm certain you're the same assholes behind all the other anons. You still sound like a cult. Leave people alone.

In short, fuck off.

[elysianslove]

first of all can i just say congrats on the 500 like i'm so happy for you and you absolutely deserve it (huge bear hug :) ) now i had this crazy hcs idea and i immediately thought of you so long story short how would Karasuno , Aoba Johsai and Nekoma react to their sweet manager having powers similar to those of scarlet witch (marvel) or mirajane strauss (fairytail anime) feel free to pick whichever one is easier and thank you so much for indulging my crazy request. love u lots - safiyah <3333

oh my goodness thank you sm for your words here’s a bear hug <3 also also i was literally just thinking just how cool it would be to have like a supernatural au haikyuu thing and then you send me this wow we on some mind reading shit. anyways i really hope you like this. sorry it’s like hq on crack if you want a serious one lemme know hsjkhsk

karasuno high

they lose their shit. 

every single one of them. 

mentally they’re all like 12 (except daichi and mqybe ennoshita) so i definitely think they’d have a very childish reaction to it. 

it’s so endearing though. 

they find out while walking you home one night: it’s very stormy and they just wanted to make sure you get home safe because they worship the ground you walk on. cue like a fucking billboard nearly falling on you and the group of boys and your instincts just kick in and you stop it mid air. 

noya’s still screaming even after everyone’s just gone silent and is gawking at the fact a billboard (or whatever the object is i can’t think rip) is hovering above them. in mid air. because of you. what the fuck? 

daichi’s blood pressure drops he’s like somebody catch me im about to faint wtf is going on. 

you kinda freak and just toss it away and run your way back home, as far away from the boys as possible. 

but alas, you’re their manager, and you have duties to fulfill. so you show up to practice the next morning terrified for your life. 

you’re not really sure why you’re so scared and nervous. you just are? it’s a huge part of who you are and it’d be a big bummer if the most important boys in your life didn’t accept it. 

noya greets you with a really big hug

tanaka’s so loud but what’s new <3 

daichi and suga just come up to you and gently ask if you’re okay because you ran off so quick yesterday

they all act super normal during practice but you can tell

you can tell

they want to ask so many questions they’re gonna explode 

after practice, when coach ukai and takeda leave, and it’s just you, kiyoko, and the boys, it’s s o quiet. you would hear a pin drop. 

you just sigh and go “you can ask” 

your poor eardrums </3 

they’re so fascinated by everything you say 

kiyoko’s like “i had a hunch” like how do u have a hunch about something like this anyways what a queen

noya’s like “make me fly” 

and tsukki in the back “drop him on his ass pls” 

they definitely make you do so many things for them with it 

cleaning duty is now on you because hello !! you can move things with your mind !! 

kags doesn’t get it. he’s like. ok? and ? i can set volleyballs perfectly, hinata can jump really high despite his height, she can move things with her mind? so what? 

i love him 

they’re also crazy good at keeping it a secret? 

not hinata tho he slips up so often like thank god the secret isn’t realistic or believable

he’ll be like “oh yeah? well our manager can move things with her mind!” 

and suga just has to usher him away with a pained smile like “yeah she’s so incredible haha” while doing that thing moms do where they squeeze or pinch your shoulder if they’re mad at you in public 

it feels like a weight lifted off your shoulders when they find out because the closer you grew to these boys, the more they felt like family to you.

aoba johsai

my favorite team 

i hc makki as someone that smokes weed. pls don’t try to convince me otherwise. look at him. he’s a pothead <3 

this is going somewhere i swear.

so you’re a 3rd year manager, meaning you’ve been with these boys a while now, specifically the third years of the team, so y’all are pretty close. 

how they find out: it’s like 3am on a weekend, the seijoh 4 and some of the second years. you’d baked a cake with like all of them all at once in the kitchen, so it was now a mess, so you’re attempting to clean it up as fast as you can the way you know best — with your hands and your mind. makki walks in, high as shit, sees this and just. 

“damn must be the weed.” 

you don’t hear him. so. uh oh. 

he was probably sent there by iwa to get water or something, so iwaizumi walks in and just yells so loud “what the fuck!” 

it’s like they’re all summoned by this. they eventually all pile into the kitchen and you’re literally just frozen in fear with pots and pans and utensils and specks of flour hovering by you. and then you maintain eye contact with iwa as you lift one hand and direct the pans into a cupboard and slowly shut it. 

“so it’s not the weed?” 

they honestly. don’t act any different tbh 

it’s like an added feature of yours that they appreciate. 

oikawa asks you to read his mind to test if what happened that night was real and you just lift him up from off his seat. 

“i asked you to read my mind tho hm” 

yeah mind reading is just a regular thing now. they will slyly ask you to read the other team’s minds during a match and you’re like no that’s cheating. but you do. and you subtlety give them advice. like “hm i wonder if that team’s gonna do this specific attack” 

also oikawa asks (read:begs) u to like help them make it through to nationals

you say “will it feel like a true accomplishment if i do?” 

shuts his pretty face up <3 

they also make you like. toss volleyballs to them. but with your mind. multiple of them. they take it as some stupid challenge idk these boys are dumb i love them 

they also love throwing things at. YOU. LIKE WTF? 

like haha dodgeball but it’s a group of 6’0+ athletes against just. you. 

sounds fair 

they also become insanely protective of you after they find out. idk how that clicks w them but. yes. 

especially mattsun and iwa ? like men. relax.

anyways they would abuse the shit out of your powers genuinely but it’s okay it’s out of love <3

nekoma high

they. they’re idiots. all of them. 

kuroo would probably be like but scientifically ! this makes zero sense 

omg kenma would lose his MIND. 

HES A GAMER BRUH 

HED BE OBSESSED W YOU.

but lowkey bc none of that simp shit </3 

ooou okay so you’re at a training camp and they sneak you in with them so you guys can play truth or dare 

bc yk. you’re kids. 

and y’all are going around and you just pick truth and someone asks what’s the biggest secret you’ve ever kept from us and they expect some dirty shit they’re nasty smh 

and then you straight up go “i can move things w my mind” 

and theyre like ok miss stop playin fr 

keep in mind it’s dark as hell in the dormitory and eerily quiet and you shift one of the chairs in there, and it squeaks loudly

yamamoto jumps and looks at you w so much fear in his eyes. “that wasn’t you” 

“bet?” 

and then suddenly all chairs are moving all at once and yamamato deadass screams 

kuroo’s shrugging like. “it’s just the wind,” like ur not in a closed off room w all the windows shut whatever u say sir <3 

lev’s like

gone into shock. seriously someone go get him water or something. 

when morning comes they’re all like hella scared to approach you except kenma and kuroo bc kenma— is in awe. kuroo — does not believe it. 

you’re kinda :( that they’re scared of you and you approach them after the day is over and just apologize, and tell them you didn’t mean to scare them and that you’d never hurt them or even consider it. 

they do a 180 bruh they just all go “awwwwww” and suffocate you in a group hug so you shove them all off for good measure lmao 

kuroo still doesn’t believe it until you save his ass in broad daylight and he’s like ok maybe it wasn’t fake so what sue me 

whenever there are training camps where other schools come they beg u to help them prank the boys 

especially bokuto and hinata 

and you do obviously 

it’s hilarious watching them scream as something moves slightly. you never do it that it’s suspicious just enough to be like did that happen or is my mind messing w me rn 

scarlet witch also has the ability to mess w people’s mind in the literal sense and whenever one of the boys pisses you off particularly you just make them see their biggest fear 

kenma asks you to reenact some of his favorite gameplays for him

it’s literally just roleplay and you couldn’t care less someone catches the two of you you’re no pussy you can admit when you’re having fun 

overall a very chaotic reaction 

they don’t treat you any different they’re just like 100x more hyped about who you are. like the fact that you’re their manager is already a blessing and now this !!! 

incredible <3333

[nanasparadise]

Can you do (aged up of course), Yandere Narancia x reader. [p.s can it include any of these prompts? “ Stop denying our love! Stop denying our future together!! ”, “ Please don’t cry. Show me the smile I love so much! ”, “ You can’t escape my love.”,” You will grow to love me back, I just know it!“] Thx so much <3

“You can’t escape my love”

“You will grow back to love me, I just know it.”

Hiya anon! I hope you enjoy it! <3 

Summary: Your boyfriend doesn’t understand the concept of boundaries and keeps harassing you, until he stands in front of your apartment’s door...

TW: cyber harassment, implied stalking, gaslighting, mentions of a panic attack, toxic relationship, noncon touching, curse words, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

Narancia has been aged up, no minor content on my blog!

Word count: 2155

“No escape” Yan! Narancia x gender-neutral reader 

 Bling. Another one of… how many messages again? You have stopped counting a while ago. An exasperated sigh escapes your lips, wondering why you haven’t turned off the volume yet. Why is he so unrelenting? Annoyed, you take your phone in your hand, staring at the twenty-five texts Narancia has left for you. At first, they have started off innocently, asking you about your well-being and your day. But as time has passed, the messages have begun becoming more invasive and have ended up being straight-up creepy. 

“Why aren’t you answering me, did I do something wrong?” 

“Stop being so stubborn, I know you want to be with me, too!” 

“I’m always near you, you’re aware of that, right? You can’t escape my love.”

 An icy shudder travels down your spine while reading the last two sentences. Fear clenches around your heart, making your chest feel heavy, your breaths short and laboured. 

“’’Try out this dating app!’ they said, ‘It will be fun!’ I see where this fun has lead me to”, you think gloomily. Why on earth did you ever sign up to that damned app and had to match with Narancia? You curse yourself, curse your naivety for having expected to encounter there a nice and healthy relationship.

The only thing that has waited for you is an obsessive stalker you can’t get rid of. Of course you didn’t realise Narancia’s disturbing nature at the beginning. No, you thought of him as sweet and energetic, although a bit tiring. Your first dates were pleasant: you went to a fair, sharing candyfloss and laughter between you, to a restaurant, where the Italian nearly choked on his pasta out of excitement, to a spring picnic at the local park, bathing in the gentle sunlight. It all seemed so beautiful to you back then, so innocent. But quickly, things have changed. 

Narancia has become increasingly clingy to you until it started feeling as if he was glued onto your hip. Oh, you want to go grocery shopping? He’ll come with you and help you carry your bags! You’re planning on visiting your family on the weekend? He’ll join you, he has been dying to meet them anyway! 

Setting boundaries with him was extremely challenging. Every time you hinted that you’d rather like to spend some time alone, he nearly threw a fit, taking your words out of context and twisting them around. 

“So you want to toss me away? You don’t think I’m important to you?”, he shouted at you, tears of anger forming in his eyes. Back then, you didn’t notice his gaslighting methods, felt guilty for prioritising yourself. But now, you don’t want to hold yourself back anymore. There isn’t any reason for you to justify yourself, especially not to someone who clearly has no right to intervene in your life like this. Your gaze travels back to your phone. All these messages, these implications, are proof enough of his unhealthy attachment to you. Hell, he even admitted following you! No matter how much you enjoyed your time together, you can’t let Narancia continue with his creepy behaviour.

Quickly, you type a text, telling the Italian that if he goes on invading your privacy, you’ll block him. For a few minutes, sweet silence dominates your living room. 

“Maybe he finally got it”, you muse hopefully. 

Bling. There goes your hope. 

“Are you messing with me? Why would you write that?! Please, stop with these jokes, we can talk about this!” Another sigh comes out of your mouth. 

“No Narancia, we actually can’t. That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell the whole time, but it seems you don’t understand. I’m sorry, but I’m gonna block you for now, otherwise I’ll go insane.” 

With these final words, you block his number. Relief washes over you as you realise that the Italian can’t harass you anymore. 

“It‘s kind of sad how things have turned out”, you mumble to yourself. Though you do feel some regret – after all, the two of you had shared many beautiful moments together – you abruptly stop your pondering. “No use to cry over spoiled milk, Y/N. If he keeps treating you like this, it’s best to get away from him.”

Little did you know that Narancia isn’t letting you go that easily. The following days, he kept reaching out to you towards multiple phone numbers. Every time you blocked it, a new one popped up. At this point, you’ve simply stopped using your phone altogether, only relying on the device if it’s inevitable. In those cases, you’re helplessly exposed to the unnerving messages of the young man. The latest one keeps haunting your mind, initiating your anxiety. 

“I’ve been really patient with you, Y/N, but this little game is making me lose my temper. I’ll be seeing you tonight and then we settle things straight. You will grow back to love me, we’ll make up again, I just know it.” 

Nervously, you eye the nearest clock in your flat. 8 p.m. What does Narancia consider ‘tonight’? Will he even come? Are you able to face him right now? 

“Oh god, I need to go”, you whisper desperately, nausea manifesting itself in your stomach. You could crash at your friend’s place, you’re sure they’d understand your situation. Quickly, you gather all your important belongings, ready to flee, as a loud knocking on your front door followed by an all too familiar voice interrupts your escape. 

“Hey Y/N, could you open the door for me, please?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You mutter an incoherent string of curses. Petrified, you just keep staring at the door, not daring move a single muscle in your body. 

“If you don’t open the door yourself, I’ll just break it in, you know?”, Narancia shouts on the other side. The casualness of his tone scares you even more. 

“How can he just be so blasé by his behaviour? Doesn’t he notice how wrong his actions are?” Actually fearing the Italian might damage your property, you accept your defeat and slowly walk up to the front door. Hesitantly, with shaking hands, you unlock it and pull the handle down. Nervousness creeps up on you, making your palms grow sweaty and your heart palpitating erratically. Soon – too soon for your liking – you meet a pair of familiar purple eyes. To your surprise, Narancia smiles upon seeing your face. 

“Hi babe,” he greets you, carefree, “I’m so glad you opened the door for me! You have no clue how much I’ve missed you!” Without even waiting for you to invite him in – which you definitely wouldn’t have done – the young man marches into your flat, invading your privacy even further. Suddenly, two arms wrap around your middle and pull you close to the young man’s chest. Your breathing falters at the abrupt touch. “It’s alright, it’s only me, Y/N”, Narancia tries to comfort you. If only he knew that his presence currently gives you anything but comfort…

A few moments later, you find yourself sitting on your couch next to him. Narancia flashes you a seemingly reassuring grin all while you keep fiddling with the sleeves your shirt. You blankly stare at the floor in front of you. Even though Narancia’s behaviour is conveying sympathy, you couldn’t get rid of the intuitive feeling that this is all but a façade to lull you into a false sense of security. Who knows what he could do to you? Despite his overall sweet and fun nature, the young man doesn’t shy away from using violence if you test his – admittedly little – patience. His numerous messages flash up in your mind again. You’re painfully aware now how he made it clear that you’ve clearly missed your opportunities of being in his good graces. This realisation pushes you nearly over the edge, being on the brink of a panic attack. Would Narancia really hurt you? 

“Look Y/N,” the sound of his voice interrupts your train of thought. A little startled, you immediately straighten your back and glance at his form next to you. The young man’s hand finds its way to yours, stopping your fumbling by securely grasping it. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, but what’s wrong? Why did you just ignore me like that?”, Narancia asks you. You don’t miss the hint of annoyance in his voice, indicating his true feelings. Though anxiety still has a hold on you, you try your best to fight against it and tell him the truth. After all, it’s not like you could escape this situation anyway. So you take a deep breath in and out again, before you spill your following words. 

“Well, I know you’re more of a clingy person Narancia, but what you’re doing is unhealthy. You can’t expect me to give you my full attention all the time. And you definitely can’t follow me around! It’s just creepy and wrong. You know that’s considered stalking, right?”

The Italian stares back at you incredulously. You wonder what’s going on in his head right now. 

“You gave me no other choice, Y/N! How am I supposed to see if you’re doing alright if you deny me like this? You really think me worrying about you makes me some deranged criminal?”, Narancia barks angrily back at you. The grip on your hand tightens. Listening to your previous gut feeling, you immediately retrieve your hand from his all while scooting away from him to gain more space between you. The dark-haired man’s jaw visibly clenches at your action, disapproval glistening in his eyes. Of course he would use his gaslighting tactics on you, he always does when things don’t go his way. Cautiously, you think for a while of what to say, not wanting to trigger Narancia’s wrath any further. 

“It’s not the fact you worry about me, it’s the way you choose to show your concern. Narancia, it’s not okay what you’re doing, you’re actually making me feel very uncomfortable, even right now. Plus, you’re blaming me for your behaviour, which is, again, not acceptable”, You carefully reply, hoping to talk some sense into him.

He makes you uncomfortable? Narancia can’t comprehend your words at all. He’d been worrying himself sick the last few days, trying to reach out to you as best as possible while you cruelly kept on ignoring his countless messages. But he is supposed to be the bad guy now? The Italian scoffs intensely at that thought. He can feel the anger gnawing at his guts, ready to be released. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Y/N,” Narancia reprimands you, “can’t I show you anymore that I care? That I love you? Even after you’ve blocked and ignored me? What do you expect me to do now, to just let you go?” 

“Actually, I do,” you peep quietly, “I can’t continue with this madness. If you don’t want to understand and listen to me, then it’s best for you to go. Now.” Your voice grows stronger with every word you utter, finally regaining your confidence. Meanwhile, Narancia’s heart sinks to his stomach at your statement. Do you really want to leave him? 

“No, no no no Y/N, you don’t mean this, right? You wanna stay with me, don’t you?” 

“No, I really don’t think I do, not after you’ve shown me your true colours.” 

With a force you don’t expect, Narancia pulls you suddenly against his chest again. His arms cage you in, leaving no room for you to move at all. 

“This is just a misunderstanding,” the young man keeps repeating like a mantra while tightening his grasp as if you could dissipate into thin air if he didn’t cling onto you, “It’s normal for couples to fight from time to time, it’s fine. We’re fine, right? You wouldn’t abandon me for real, would you?” 

“Narancia, I –“ you try to intervene, but your attempts remain futile as he cuts you off quickly. 

“No, you’re not going to leave me! I’m not letting you. Look, this is but a silly fight, you’re not going to toss away our relationship for that, are you? Just remember all the beautiful moments we shared together, how happy I can make you, if you just let me!” Narancia nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. “I love you, Y/N.” He eagerly plants kisses onto your skin, making you shudder and whimper helplessly. Your eyes grow bigger, your breath quickens as you desperately look for a way to escape this situation, to escape him. 

“I love you more than anything in this world. I’d gladly give up everything if it meant to spend every second with you by my side. No one can love you like this but me. Remember that next time you’re thinking I’m going to let you off the hook”, Narancia whispers in your ear, the underlying threat being crystal clear to you. No, you aren’t going to escape from him any time soon…