#it was predator and prey. manipulator and victim

[crush-like-that]

If you like the darkling/darklina just unfollow me atp

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Prey

Slasher AU. Prefacing the fic with the knowledge that there's no batman in this au. I was thinking about Scream and those kinds of horror films when I wrote this, so, all the warnings that come with that.

CW for murder, some knife play, predator/prey dynamics, and sex under manipulation. Smut written with AFAB reader in mind. 18+ MDNI ~3.7k words

Gotham is known for its crime, known for its filth and grime. So when you started dating Jason Todd, you were floored by how good he was. Attentive, sweet, kind, and always so soft with you.

He's the antithesis of everything you're used to, constantly going against your more pessimistic expectations. Your boyfriend is a rare, treasured comfort in the city that's been nothing but rotten to you.

It helps that he's nothing but a gentle giant. Sure, he can scare off anyone looking for trouble while you're walking the street, but he's harmless. If he wasn't born and raised in crime alley, you'd assume he'd have no idea what to do with his size and strength.

He assures you he's more than capable of swinging the bat you keep by your bed if anyone ever broke in. You believe him, of course, but it doesn't completely soothe the knot of anxiety in your stomach. Not when Red Hood is stalking the streets.

It's a name that's been haunting Gotham for over half a year. He's become Gotham's most prolific serial killer in nearly no time at all. He has no pattern, no specific victim type. All the GCPD seems to know is that he targets 'the rot' and wears a distinctive, blood-red mask.

He scares you. It's not that you think that you're on his intended targets list, it's just– his victims, you knew an uneasy amount of them.

The creep at your work? Found dead with a lengthy, bloodstained list of previous convictions.

The offputting guy that liked to lurk at the coffee shop you love? Murdered with the names of his victims carved into his body.

The stranger in your apartment building who stared a little too much? Killed and left with his eyes plucked out in some parking lot.

Jason said it was just a coincidence, that there was no need to worry when it was just criminals and predators being targeted. He sounded so confident, so sure of this fact that it was easy to brush off the unsettling fear that seemed to travel to your spine every time you heard Red Hood's name.

But now? You wish you had taken the gut feeling more seriously.

You weren’t even supposed to be home. You were supposed to be at work. Safe. Calmed by the people around you. But your manager had double scheduled you and your coworker, and, in the moment, you had been more than happy to take the opportunity to spend more time with your boyfriend.

Jason was nowhere in sight when you had come home. It had been quiet, almost eerie. You assumed he was napping, getting some well-deserved rest. You knew how hard he works. You were almost giddy, at the thought of surprising him, at curling up in your soft, warm bed and surrounding yourself with your boyfriend's arms and scent.

You cracked open your bedroom door slowly, carefully, not wanting to disturb him. But it’s not the sight of your handsome, sleeping boyfriend you’re greeted with. It’s something far worse.

Your brain doesn’t quite make the connection between the imposing figure tugging on a pair of leather gloves and the serial killer prowling the streets at first. But as your gaze trails up the stranger to where his face should be, you recognize the mask that's been on the edge of your nightmares for months.

Red Hood. Red Hood is in your room, and he’s picking up a knife off your bed to shove it into a sheath on his hip. You have the chilling realization that your boyfriend is nowhere in sight. Panic starts to close your throat. He could be dead. Jason– your Jason– could be dead.

You think you make a noise at the thought. Or maybe you step back in horror. You’re not completely sure. But what you do know, is that you’ve done something to get him to notice your presence. Red Hood whips his head towards you. He breathes out your name. And you turn on your heel to run.

You dart through your apartment, vision tunneled with one purpose. Get away. You have to get to the door, have to get help, have to hope that your boyfriend is still clinging to life and that you’ll be fast enough to save him.

Your heart threatens to pound out of your chest, your hands feel clammy, and all you want to do is cry, but you have to run. You have to. He’s right behind you. You can hear his heavy boots hit the ground with every step, and it only serves to make skin grow cold and your spine tingle.

You throw open your front door, opening your mouth to scream and beg someone to come help.

You don’t get the chance. The door slams shut in front of you, your only hope for escape barricaded closed by a large hand pressing into the wood above your head. You try to yell, try to shriek and make a commotion, but leather presses harshly against your lips before you're able to make a sound.

It’s muscle memory, built on self-defense training Jason always insisted you practiced, that you’re able to elbow him in the gut and bite down on his hand. He grunts, shifting his hold on you. You find enough space to spin around and shove him. You think he steps back more at your audacity than at your strength.

It doesn’t matter why, all that matters is that it gives you an opportunity to sprint past him, to try to make it to the fire escape. He must find your attempt cute, because he huffs out a laugh as he lunges for your fleeing form.

You cry out as he tackles you to the ground, maneuvering you as you both fall. The impact of the ground is somewhat softened by his chest, but it dazes you enough that you don’t put up a strong fight when he flips you to your back.

Seeing him up close knocks the air from your lungs more than the fall did. His mask gives away no emotion, only his slightly labored breathing and body heat gives away that he’s even human. Even as terror sets itself into every fiber of your being, there’s a brief clarity in your panicked thoughts.

There’s no scent of blood on him. There’s a chance, there’s a hope, that Jason is okay. There’s a chance he wasn’t home when Red Hood broke in. There’s a chance he’s safe. And maybe, maybe Red Hood won’t hurt you. You’re not exactly good, but you’re not evil, not someone he would target.

The thought calms you enough that you start to struggle, if you could just survive until Jason gets here– the thought is cut short when something shiny catches your vision. In your frenzied state, you’d failed to notice Red Hood unsheathing his knife.

You freeze, and he lowers the tip of the knife to rest it at the base of your throat. He hasn't said anything since he caught you, hasn’t given you a hint of what he wants from you.

You wish he would, wish he would give you anything to latch onto. Tears threaten to prick your eyes as he settles his weight on your hips, hunching over as if to get a better look at your petrified face.

Your heart only beats fast when he starts to trail the knife down to catch the collar of your shirt. You can feel how sharp the blade is, how he would only need to press a little harder to make you bleed. The idea makes you whimper softly, unable to hide how vulnerable you are.

He catches the noise, head tilting like he finds it interesting, and he pulls the knife down your sternum until the fabric of your shirt starts to stretch and tear.

You choke on nothing, desperately grabbing at his wrist to try and stop him from ripping your shirt in two, “Wait– please,” you start to beg, anything to save yourself from this. He can’t– you can’t let him– not when you know Jason will be the one to find your body.

He shushes you, low and soothing, and even your best efforts doesn’t stop his steady hand from tracing a line down your body with the knife, “Don’t be scared, baby. I thought you liked it when I got rough?”

His voice. His voice. You know that voice. It chills you to the core, widens your eyes, and sends you spiraling to a fact you never once considered, “Jason?”

He laughs, the sound distorted by the mask and drags the knife back up your skin to rest over your heart, “I knew you’d get there. You’ve always been too smart for your own good.”

It’s not fear that makes your body shake anymore, but anger as you snap at him, “Are you kidding me? Is this some kind of stupid prank?”

“It's not a prank baby,” he says, so plain he may as well be talking about the weather, “I’m Red Hood.”

You blink, shocked to silence as your anger fades to unease. You can only imagine what he looks like right now. Eyes dark, face set with a mockery of a smile, and nothing like the Jason you know.

You swallow thickly, trying to reconcile the man you love, and the murderer bracing most of his weight on your body, “But– Jason– you wouldn’t– killing people– that’s not right,” you finish lamely.

The air seems to grow thick with tension at your stuttered words, and he raises the knife. You scream and squeeze your eyes shut as he brings it down without hesitation.

Pain doesn’t come, but a thunk by your ear does. You open your eyes and turn your head, the shining blade is embedded into the wood by your face, so close that your eyelashes nearly brush it when you blink.

The sight is enough to make tears fill your eyes, and any semblance of safety you felt was quickly ripped away by the glimmering knife.

Jason starts to shush you again, catching your chin gently with his gloved hands to turn your face back to him. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt ya. I would never. You just don’t understand yet. The people I kill- they aren’t really people, baby. They’re monsters, a cancer to the city. I’m making things better, helping.”

He sounds like he really believes that, and it makes you want to cry harder, “Baby,” he coos, “Don’t be scared. I’ve always kept you safe. How I do it? Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it? I’m not asking you to get your hands dirty.”

You flinch when he starts to wipe your tears, and he tuts, one hand leaving your face to lift his bright red mask to the top of his head in an attempt to calm you.

There’s no pretending it isn’t him. Every blemish you’ve come to memorize, every fleck in his eyes, the quirk of his eyebrow. It’s him. Jason is Red Hood, and Red Hood has you pinned to your apartment floor.

“Better,” he asks gently, leaning down to kiss away the tracks of tears on your cheeks. It only serves to scare you more. Your boyfriend, he seems nearly unrecognizable now.

“Please,” you beg again. You’re not sure what you’re asking for. For him to let you go? For him to tell you it’s all a sick joke? For him to stop killing?

He offers you none of these, only rambles idly as he presses kiss down to your jaw, to your throat, “C’mon, baby. I’ve always taken care of you, haven't I? This doesn’t change anything. I still love you. You’re still my partner, my everything. I’m just making things better for you, for everyone.”

His hands start to trace the bare skin of your sides, pushing aside your torn shirt, “Let me remind you how good we are, baby. It’ll make everything better.”

He punctuates his little speech with a roll of his hips, and it draws a gasp from your throat.

It’s so familiar, something you couldn’t help but crave from him. But it feels tainted now, almost wrong. You grab at his shoulders, half to push him away and half to find comfort in pulling him closer as raw panic lacing your features.

He grins at you, as if he can read your every thought and internal struggle. You open your mouth to protest, to remind him and yourself that this is wrong. That even if the people he kills are evil, vile, and twisted, that doesn’t make him right.

Jason doesn’t seem interested in hearing your arguments, though, and he ducks his head to capture your mouth in a passionate kiss.

He nips at your lips, traces your tongue with his, and leaves you panting for air when he finally pulls away. “There you go,” he praises, running his thumb over your spit-stained mouth, “No need to think so hard about it.”

Later, when you’re sticky with sweat and exhausted and laying on his chest, you’ll berate yourself for giving in.

But in the moment? He knows exactly what you like, knows exactly how to get your head to go foggy, and lose your inhibitions. He’s been in your bed for months, learned every little thing that makes you tick with frightening accuracy, and he uses every bit of that knowledge to convince you to give in.

He nips at your pulse, fingers tugging at the fabric of your pants. He’s heavy and warm on top of you, and his murmured praises and gentle touches are almost enough to distract you from the knife driven into the floor by your head.

You dig your nails into his shoulders and somewhere between him sucking a line of bruises to your chest and him hiking your thigh over his hip, what’s left of your clothes is thrown strewn and crumpled onto the floor.

The wood is cold against your back, but it’s the look in his eyes that makes you shiver. He’s completely dressed, even as he has you naked and exposed underneath him. And his gaze, his gaze is almost predatory as he devours the sight of you.

You don’t know how you never noticed it before, the way his eyes darken like he wants to eat you alive, like he wants to keep you soft and spread open for him forever.

It makes your throat tighten, nearly sends you back into a state of sick terror, but then he dips his head, and nips the shell of your ear, “You’re being so good for me, doll,” he praises, reverent and soft, “You just keep being sweet for me and everything will be okay."

Your breath hitches, and suddenly it's not fear that knots itself in your stomach, but a desire to be good. You want to be sweet for him, want his praise and adoration and approval, no matter what he’s done or what he's capable of.

Pride flickers over his face at the way your eyes seem to glaze over and he’s quick to undo his belt, eager to keep you compliant and dazed, “Look at you, all flustered over some pretty words,” he half taunts, “S’like you were meant for me.”

“Jason,” you start, and he shakes his head at you, pushing his fingers between your teeth.

“Bite down for me, sweetheart,” he instructs, and you can’t help but listen, nipping at the leather of his glove so he can free his hand. “Good,” he coos at you, “Now, hold onto that for me while I take care of you.”

You want to listen, want to do as he says, but his fingers start to rub slow, steady circles against your clit and your mouth drops open in a pitched whine all on its own, letting the glove fall to the floor.

He laughs at you, fond and mocking all at once, “Sweet baby, can’t handle it can you? That’s alright, doll. I’ll make you feel real good anyway.”

You nearly go cross eyed when his cock nudges your cunt. Usually he’d take his time, have you creaming on his fingers or tongue before he’d make you see stars on his cock. But there’s something on face that says he has something to prove, that even with knowledge of who he is, it doesn’t change that your body knows him, wants him.

His name leaves your throat in a needy cry as he sinks into you, slowly guiding himself deep into your fluttering cunt.

Your back arches as his fingers press harder to your clit, his smile almost primal as he feels you clench down on his dick, “Gonna make a mess, baby,” he warns, and you’re not sure if he’s telling you he’s planning on making you a mess, or if he’s pointing out that you’re already on the verge of soaking his cock.

You groan when he starts to rock his hips in shallow thrusts, and it makes you babble his name faster. He’s being careful, letting you adjust to every inch of him as he splits you apart.

But, it’s not enough, not enough to drive the thoughts of Red Hood lingering on the edge of your mind, so you hook your ankles behind his back, and squeeze your eyes shut. If you don’t see him, don’t see the mask still resting on top of his head, maybe you can still pretend he’s just Jason, just your sweet, normal boyfriend.

“Don’t hide,” he grunts and jerks his hips forward, burying himself in one smooth motion that makes you gasp and snap your eyes open.

“There you go,” he murmurs, smile sharp as he gazes down at you. He drops his forearm to the ground next to your head, caging you between his arm and his knife. His free hand leaves your clit to tug your thigh higher up his hip.

He almost seems proud when he starts to grind into you, watching every blissed expression that crosses your face when ruts against your sweet spot.

He pulls his hips back, making sure your eyes stay locked on his, before he drives back into your cunt, setting a head spinning pace that has your needy mewls and the sound of skin on skin filling the room.

He lowers his head to kiss you with a sly grin, swallowing up every whine you make. All the reservations you had quickly disappear, replaced by the tight feeling building in your gut, by the drag of his cock against your walls. He’s relentless, chasing his and your pleasure with a single minded focus.

There’s a promise in his touch, when his hand leaves your thigh to find your hip. His fingers dig into your skin, hard enough to leave an imprint. If your head was any clearer, you would recognize it for the threat that it was.

His lips leave yours, and he buries his face in your shoulder, thrusts becoming sloppy as he murmurs slurred vows into your skin. “Gonna keep you forever. Gonna make you feel this way every day. Never gonna let you go. Never gonna lose this, baby.”

Maybe it’s the way his voice goes ragged. Maybe it’s the way his hips stutter as he fights off his release. Or maybe it’s the way he presses feverish kisses to your skin. But it sends you spiraling over the edge, clenching around his cock and cumming with his name in your throat.

He follows you with a moan, movements slowing as he pumps his spend into your twitching pussy. “Good, baby. So good,” he manages to get out, pulling his face back just enough to watch you whimper and try to gather what’s left of your rationality.

He tilts his head down, grinning like a hunter that’s caught the best prize of the season. The movement causes his mask to slip off his head, sliding it back in place to cover his face. The air catches in your lungs at the sight, your body tensing as clarity strikes through the lingering haze of pleasure.

Jason only laughs, tracing the curve of your jaw, “What’s wrong, baby,” he teases, slowly rolling his hips into your sensitive cunt, “Don’t tell me you forgot who was fucking you?”

“Take it off,” You murmur, voice tight as he drags every last bit of ecstasy from your body.

He hums, “Mm, No. You gotta get used to it, sweetheart. This mask, me, ain’t going anywhere.”

A part of you is still scared, scared to test him more than you already have, but it’s not Red Hood you want, it’s not Red Hood you fell in love with. Anger guides your actions as you reach up to rip the mask off his face. He catches your wrist faster than you see him move.

Everything seems to stop.

He slowly lowers your wrist back to the ground, pinning the offending hand above your head, “Now, sweetheart,” he says slowly, voice lowered to a tone you’ve never heard before, “We’re not going to do that.”

“I’m not sleeping with Red Hood,” you hiss, sounding braver than you feel.

He snorts at you, and every word he speaks is followed by a sharp thrust of his cock, “Baby, I am Red Hood.”

Your arguments turn to keens, overwhelmed and dizzy by his institance to keep driving his dick deeper into your pussy. His words hardly seem to register, but he keeps talking to you anyway, “You’ve been sleeping with Red Hood, baby. And you liked it– loved it. Just have to remind you.”

You can’t seem to focus. He’s good, so good at hitting all the spots that turn your brain into mush and your legs into jelly. But that mask, that stupid mask is staring down at you. It’s the only thing you can see.

You’re divided between Jason, the Jason whose cock has you babbling and moaning, and Red Hood. Red Hood who has your wrist pinned to the hard floor, who’s watching your every movement like he needs to memorize every expression, every sound you make.

It’s not until later, when he has you cumming on his cock for the fifth time, that you realize they are the same. They’ve always been the same.

Jason Todd is Red Hood, and now that you know, he'll blur the lines until you're not sure why you were ever really scared of him.

[selfishdoll]

❛you wanted this, right?...❜ ━━ ft. ghostface! gojo & geto

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 SUMMARY. ━━ after disclosing a fantasy you had, your beloved boyfriends decided to make it happen. them in masks, you the victim, and you all inside a big mansion they rented out. an unfair game of cats and mouse seemed delightful, no?

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 CONTENT WARNING. ━━ everything is consensual & discussed beforehand | fear play | predator & prey play(? maybe), | ghostface mask | voice manipulation (they sound like ghostface | manhandling | rough sex | praise & degradation | oral sex (f & m receiving) | ooc characters (i’m not gege don’t clock me) | pet names (princess, sweetheart, pretty girl, minx, slut, etc) | spanking | minor choking (not really just holding your throat) | double p in v sex | fingering | multiple orgasms | orgasm denial | minor knife play | etc. if i forgot something let me know.

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 NOTE. ━━ this took much longer then i wanted & went on much longer then i wanted 😭🙏🏾. as always please excuse typos & grammar mistakes.

the anticipation swelling inside you was almost nauseating. your pretty manicured fingers digging into the little pleated skirt you wore. everything you wore was little; little white top, little denim skirt, and little pink thong. why? easy access.

you waited so impatiently for the car to stop, eyes peering between the seat and your phone, feeling your panties wetten as your thoughts swarmed with the events bound to transpire soon. to think your beloved boyfriends would actually make a disgusting fantasy of yours come true.

not without a little teasing of course.

“us, in ghostface masks?” gojo asked with a little grin, coming close to you. “you want us to chase and fuck you, huh?”

“and you’re letting us use knives, right?” geto asked next, a simper pulling his features. his eyes ran down your form, feeling excitement brew inside him.

it didn’t take much coaxing, given they were as freaky as you were. you three decided on a nice gothic mansion, four-story, furnished with several rooms. several hiding places.

whether for you or them.

next were the rules, establishing a perfect plan so everyone was comfortable. the knives used were only sharp enough for thin fabric, you had a word to say incase you got too scared, and also; you had an objective.

you would start at the top floor, your goal to get outside the house through the front. along the way however, your lovely boyfriends will be obstacles. but.. if you could guess correctly who was under the mask whilst they played with you, you were allowed to run and they had to stay put.

easy right? you think so. despite the fact one missup, and you lost. you had to be careful, calculated. sure of your decision before it exited your lips.

“miss, is this your stop?”

you quickly blinked out of your inappropriate thoughts, turning back and forth. you were sure this was the right place, an exact replica to what you saw online. with a sweet smile you thanked the uber driver, exiting the car and collecting your things; your phone and a flashlight. you didn’t need anything else.

shutting the door behind you, you headed up the grand walkway of the mansion; glancing at the pretty windows and rose shrubs standing tall outside. it was beautiful really, you wondered what it was used for before your perverted adventures.

grasping the door, which was unlocked, you entered the mansion and stepped into the dark foyer. you licked your lips nervously, shutting the door behind you. you quickly texted your lovers you were inside the house, knowing they were on the way.

satoru <3

we’re three mins away, sweetheart.

suguru <3

hurry up & find a hiding place, you don’t get a grace period.

you didn’t need to be told twice, flicking your flashlight on and rushing towards the stairs. you bounced with each step, ignoring the slight pain as you continued up them. you made it to the second floor when you heard the front door slam open and close, fear running through your body as you dashed across the hall to the next set of stairs, making it to the fourth floor.

your whipped around back and forth, searching for a perfect spot to wait out the next five mins. those were the intervals you were allowed to wait in one room, before you were expected to move. your eyes quickly settled on one second to the one at the end of the hall, rushing over and opening and closing the door.

you gripped your arms close, regaining your breath and sinking against the wall. you tried to calm down, tried to hear what was going on outside. had they made it to the fourth floor yet? maybe. but even so, you couldn’t hear a damned thing.

the ringing of your phone caused you to gasp, quickly pulling it from your chest to glance down at the bright unknown number, glaring at you. you hissed, accepting the call and placing it against your ear, whilst standing from your spot against the wall.

it was about three mins. you needed to find somewhere else to hide.

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

you rolled your eyes, a little grin covering your face. “you’re so corny, baby.” you murmured, slowly opening the door and peeking out with your flashlight. luckily you didn’t see their large forms, allowing you to step out into the hall.

“you want the ghostface masks, you get the ghostface treatment, princess.”

“mhm. you’re only trying to get me to talk so you can find me.” you hummed, continuing down the hall to the next room, opening and shutting the door behind you.

the man released a soft cackle, his breath fanning against the receiver of the phone. “oh no, i’m not doing that. i already know where you are.”

you blinked a bit, whipping around in time to spot a large form burst out of the closet and head towards you. a delighted, yet fearful shriek escaped you as strong arms locked around your body. his gloved hand pressed against your mouth, bringing you against his form.

“too bad, we just started and i already caught you.” ghostface snickered against your ear, plastic mask rubbing against your hot skin. his hand dragged down, the warm fabric tracing your skin. “what should i do first? should i cut these useless clothes off? maybe i’ll wait for the other ghostface to get here.. end this game quickly—“

“satoru!” you shouted out, hearing the man click his tongue a bit. the strong arms released you, a triumphant giggle escaping you as you rushed out of the room without even looking back. you ran down the hall, ignoring the other rooms and heading down the stairs.

you didn’t know where geto was, and you didn’t care; you were making far too much noise for the man to ignore. you quickly entered a room, pulling the door open and shutting it behind you. your eyes peered around, regret entering you quickly.

it was a simple room, no closet, no bathroom— nothing. your only hiding spot.. was under the bed. so fucking cliche.

with some effort you got to your knees, sliding your self under the bed with even more effort. you pushed up, assuring your legs weren’t stick out like all those stupid movies and waited. you had five mins, only five and then you’d have to figure out where to go next.

getting yourself from under this bed was bound to take some time, so you planned to exit a little early.

that was until, you heard them. heavy footsteps, pressing against the floor from outside the room. you quickly slammed a hand against your mouth to cover the small whimper, shaking as you watched the door push open. the person entered, black boots coming into view as he shut the door behind him.

they stood motionless for a moment, your eyes closing as you tried to relax your racing heart. hopefully, hopefully they thought you were too smart to slide under the bed. that they would exit the room and maybe go to the next one.

your heart rung in your ears, palm squished against your mouth to cover your small pants. that was until, a strong hand curled around your bare ankle. you screeched as you were dragged out from under the bed, being flipped onto your back, right on the cold wood floor.

you whined a bit as you felt the cold steel glide across your thighs, rising to pull at your thin thong string. “under the bed? really?..” the man purred above you, raspy voice slightly muffled from the mask he wore. you whimpered as your panties were cut off, revealing your soft, wet cunt.

you attempted to shut your legs, only for ghostface to be much faster; blade rising to press against your neck. you knew it wasn’t sharp enough to cut, yet, the thought alone had you keening— arousal dripping down to your ass.

the man hummed a little, fingers tapping on the handle of the knife whilst his other hand traced your thigh, slapping the inside of it. a high pitched moan escaped you, eyes pinched closed as his gloved hand soothed the skin.

“such a minx, begging for us to fuck you in masks. bet all that running around and hiding got you so wet, huh—?” his own question was answered the moment his fingers glided across your slit, slick collected on his gloved hands. ghostface swore softly, two fingers pushing into your entrance with no restraint. he wasted no time in curling them, pushing against your velvety walls all while the knife remained against your throat.

your eyes found the back of your skull, nearly forgetting your goal. you were supposed to be guessing who this was, currently ruining you so easily with his fingers. thumb pressing against your hardened clit, circling it slowly. your sweet moans covered the room, thighs squeezing his strong forearm as little tears threatened to spill.

ghostface leaned closer, his pace quickening. “oh, gonna come already baby? you know what that means.. means we’ll win.” soft squelches covered the room, hissing at the way your gummy walls clenched around his digits. “come on, come on— guess pretty girl, guess—“

your mind raced as he coaxed you, struggling to keep your orgasm at bay. you knew if you got it wrong, you lost. if you came, you lost. you wanted, needed the game to go on just a while longer. a harsh whine escaped you, “suguru!” you finally huffed out, feeling his fingers instantly stop inside you.

“good girl.. though, i doubt you have much left in you to run.” he spoke, a clear smirk on his features despite you couldn’t see.

the man even helped you up, you rushing out the room the moment you were on your feet. suguru was slightly right, given how much you wobbled about; legs shaking as you carried yourself down the end of the hallway.

you didn’t want to get to the next floor yet, fearful gojo was waiting on you. it was so frustrating how well they worked together sometimes.

you opened the door, closing it behind you with a soft sigh. your head rested against the cool mahogany wood, heart racing as a little giggle escaped you. to think you were having so much fun being used as prey for your boyfriends. you were a sick freak, really.

you clicked your phone, glancing down at the time. four more minutes, and you’d have to move. though as excited as you were, you did find this little rest enjoyable. they weren’t going easy on you, keeping you on your toes at all times.

a soft breath escaped you as you rose from leaning against the door. clasping the knob, you turned it, opening slowly— revealing the man standing right behind it.

you screamed as he lunged forward, snatching you out of the room and closing the door. once done you were pressed right back against the wood, squeezed between it and his large form.

“you’re so easy to track, princess— gotta be a bit quieter..” ghostface teased, snaking a hand under your thin shirt to grasp your breasts. he tweaked your hard nipple between his thumb and middle finger, enjoying the pretty moans that escaped your throat. “look at that.. leaking all over this pretty mansion. such a mess.”

you cried out as his palm smacked against your bare ass, keening once his fingers plunged inside you. your legs shook, arched perfectly against the door as his hand move; flexing and scissoring his thick, long digits in and out of your messy cunt. a string of moans escaped your throat, his hand releasing your chest to glide up to your neck, holding it gently.

“fuck.. sucking my damn fingers, so much.” he mused, masked face focused on your pretty pussy. your walls clamped down, desperately trying to keep them inside with each thrust he delivered. ghostface could feel himself growing harder and harder under his slacks, having half a mind to end the game right then and there.

“messy fucking pussy.. go ahead and come, pretty girl. you want to don’t you?— so greedy for our dicks, bet you can’t wait for the game to end.”

you furiously shook your head, eyes pinched as you clenched and clenched; struggling to hold back your orgasm. with the way he was fingerfucking you, you were sure the restraint would dissipate quickly, racking your mind. satoru or suguru? satoru or suguru? satoru or suguru?

“fu—fuck, satoru!” you cried out just when your peak nearly hit, hearing the man swear but release you. you breathed heavily, feeling him step away to give you space.

“tired, baby?” satoru said in a mocking coo, watching in delight as you lifted your body off the door.

without think you flashed your boyfriend the finger, collecting the scraps of your dignity and rushing down the hall and down the steps. you didn’t know if you could last much longer— no there was no way you could.

you felt way too damn good to even distinguish between the two anymore, mind melting away as they fucked you to ecstasy with just their fingers. you hated them so much, for how easily they played with your body.

you made it to the second to last floor, tempted to just take the final stretch, but deciding not to. you turned towards a door, rushing to open it and close it behind you. a bathroom. perfect.

no where to hide but the damn tub.

with a little grimace you pulled the shower curtains back, happy to not see one of your cloaked and masked boyfriends waiting patiently for you. you stepped inside, pulling the curtains closed once you were done. you leaned back against the white tiles, sighing softly as you closed your eyes.

these little moments of peace was so bittersweet, knowing they were short lived. your lovers were much faster then you, you were sure they were on this floor already.. waiting and searching.

you glanced down at your phone, a little surprised either of them hadn’t tried to call you again. it nearly made you giggle if it wasn’t for the heavy footsteps you heard passing by the bathroom. you hissed softly, quickly covering your mouth and pressing against the wall.

your heart beat harshly, hearing doors open, footsteps, doors slam shut, and more footsteps. you didn’t know if it was only one of them on the floor or both, unfortunately.

as the footsteps closed in on outside your door, your heart rate increased; ringing in your ears and nearly whimpering the moment the door opened slowly.

whoever it was stepped into the small space, standing and looking around. the only thing between the two of you being the decorative shower curtains.

more agonizing moments passed before you heard a soft sigh, hearing a footstep towards the door and it opening and shutting shortly after. your hand slowly fell, feeling your lips curl into a little smile.

so silly, you thought to yourself, fingers curling around the curtain. they didn’t even check the tu—

“your hiding places suck, pretty girl.” ghostface chuckled, snatching you out of the tub right as you gave a fearful yelp. the man easily turned your positions, pushing you to lean against the sink, pressed up behind you. a hand came to curl in your pretty dark braids, grabbing a handful and lifting your head.

the moment your eyes landed on your face in the mirror you glanced away, whining as you felt his other fingers gently pinch your clit. “no, no.. no looking away. watch yourself as i fuck you with my fingers, sweetheart.” three fingers easily slid inside your sweet cunt, instantly clamping around the digits.

you reached back, hand gripping his wrist as he fingerfucked you, the other hand steady in your scalp. you watched as your lips parted, moans escaping and eyebrows pushing together; all while your masked boyfriend stood behind you, arm moving with each thrust he gave you.

it was such a sight, making you even wetter by the second, arousal dripping down your thighs. you whimpered as his fingers curled, legs shaking as heavy pants escaped you.

“oh, is this the last round?” the man behind the mask mocked, feeling your pretty walls clench and clench. “you had such big talk, claiming you would get out before we caught you.. was that all it was— talk?” he angled his fingers, pushing against the spot inside you that caused stars to collect in your vision.

“mmm— fuck, fuck!” you cried out, nails digging into his wrist as your head leaned against the mirror. “it— its ah— suguru!” you felt triumphant the moment his fingers were removed, gently letting go of your hair.

before you could think you were rushing out of the bathroom, chubby thighs carrying you down the stairs to the final floor. you gasped out, looking back and forth, and feeling your blood run cold the moment you spotted a large form standing at the entrance of the mansion, waiting ever so patiently.

you moved to run, making it about two feet away before your were snatched from the ground, arms tight around your waist. you huffed softly, kicking for a moment as a sharp, “satoru!” escaped you.

instead of being released, you heard soft chuckles. your eyebrows pinched close, attempting to move away. “don’t cheat, satoru!”

“oh, i’m not satoru, princess.”

your eyes went wide, whipping around to watch the man tug his mask off. and much to your dismay, suguru stood in all his glory, eyes gleaming with excitement as he took in your withering form. “looks like you lost..” his tone was sing-songy, tossing the mask to the side.

“but.. but i thought i w—“

“won?” another voice cut in, watching as the other ghostface; satoru walked down the steps, approaching the two of you. he was close within minutes, sandwiching you between himself and suguru. “no.. you guessed wrong in the bathroom. i just felt so bad about you losing, i let you slip away.” his gloved fingers found your cheeks, a sick simper covering his features.

your breath hitched as you felt strong hands grip your thinly covered body, suguru’s face falling to your neck. “means we get our reward, right?”

you whined in defeat as they snatched you away from the foyer, carrying you towards a room— a bedroom. placing you on the bed, suguru moved first, pushing you to lay out across the blankets. revealing his knife, the man slid it up your simple white shirt, cutting it open and revealing your bare chest.

the cold air licked against your skin, feeling the bed sink in as satoru crawled on; face lowering to your chest. his lips clamped around your hard nipple, sucking and gently biting it. your fingers found his brightly colored hair, the pleasure covering your sensitive body.

you gasped as the cool metal carried down from the valley between your breasts, to your stomach, and finally your skirt. geto, effortlessly, slid the sharp point under the fabric, cutting it off.

“suguru!” you huffed, watching him toss the ruined garment to the side, knife following. said man only grinned, hand finding the inside of your thigh.

“don’t worry.. i’ll buy another one for next time.”

you weren’t given much time to dwell on his words before his fingers glided across your slit, the man watching in enjoyment at you flincing from the simple touch. “practically drooling, pretty girl.. fuck.” he drawled, fingers collected your slick, rubbing it further across your slit.

you clenched onto your boyfriends, head rested back against the blankets as whimpers escaped you. “please, please..”

satoru popped off your nipple with a small chuckle, fingers replacing to tweak at the wet bud. “mhm.. you can wait, right baby? had us waiting for so long, playing your little game. it’s only fair.”

you whined once again, causing another chuckle to escape your lovers. whilst satoru grabbed your chin and captured your lips, suguru’s fingers pushed inside you, wasting no time in curling and fucking you. they no longer had to hold back to give you a chance to run, you were stranded, right where they wanted you.

your fingers clung to satoru, all while your hips moved, angling to glide your swollen clit against suguru’s palm. you cried at as he curled the digits up against your sweet spot, angling just perfect to continuously thrust there. given how much you were holding back this evening, it was no surprise your end was approaching quickly; eyes closed shut as gasps and moans entered satoru’s mouth.

he pulled away, fingers rising to your cheeks to grip, taking in your expression with a soft swear. “so fucking close aren’t you baby? making such a mess on suguru’s fingers— greedy slut.”

“hah— did you seriously clench from that, (y/n)?” suguru’s words came next, your mind flooded with pleasure and far too fucked out to acknowledge their teasing. your thighs shook, trapping the dark-haired man’s forearm between them as you fisted satoru’s hair.

a drawn out moan escaped you, creaming all over his hand, arousal dribbling all the way down to your taint and the sheets.

the praises that fell from their lips caused your head to feel light, barely registering suguru removing his fingers. you regained your breath, sitting up when you realized the two had stepped off the bed.

you watched in excitement as they fiddled with their slacks, pushing them off with their boxers soon following. your thighs twitched, little hole clenching around nothing as anticipation collected in your tummy.

suguru moved close, gently grabbing your cheeks and leading you onto your knees on the bed. satoru moved behind you, pushing you into a little arch, hands massaging your ass.

you whined as his thumb pushed into your mouth, laying on the flat of your tongue. suguru watched as your lips wrapped around the digit, sucking it slowly. he didn’t let it go on for long before he was pulling it out with a soft pop, smearing your saliva across your pretty lips. “think you could put that pretty mouth to good use, princess?” he grinned, moving close and pressing the tip of his cock against your lips.

you attempted to wrap your lips around it, only for the man to pull back, hand falling to your chin. “so fucking greedy..” suguru hissed, instructing you to poke out your tongue. you obeyed easily, whining the moment you felt satoru’s hands large hands grip your ass, nearly turning to look back if it wasn’t for suguru’s hold tightening.

“nuh uh— eyes on me, beautiful. you don’t get to see satoru right now.” he groaned, slapping his tip against your waiting muscle. the soft plaps echoed in the room, all while you felt satoru’s fluffy hair glide across the curve of your ass.

at the same time satoru’s lick tongue slid into your entrance and suguru thrusted into your mouth.

you moaned around his length, eyes rolling back as satoru wasted no time in feasting away. hands gripping you tightly, keeping you arched right there as his tongue dragging across your walls, lapping and enjoying each drop that came from you.

your attention kept being knocked back and forth; suguru dragging his hips back as his hand found your hair, slowly, carefully setting a pace inside your wet mouth. your cheeks hollowed, glossy eyes peering up at the man as he fucked your mouth. suguru groaned at the sight, swearing as his pace quickened, pulling you flush so your nose brushed his stomach.

within minutes his tip was hitting the back of your throat, heavy, full balls slapping against your chin. you could only shake and take it, gripping the sheets under you all while satoru’s tongue never stopped inside you.

licking you up, mixing your arousal and his saliva, only to pull back and spit it right back against your messy pussy in a soft ptuh. slurping it all up, dragging his tongue between your folds.

“wanted this so bad didn’t you, (y/n)? you wanted us to win, to fuck you just like this.” suguru huffed, stuttering between each thrust inside your throat.

you squealed as a large hand slammed against your ass, fingers massaging the raw skin. “he asked you a question, princess— or is your mouth too full to respond?” satoru cackled right into your pussy, hand slithering to your entrance to push two fingers inside, all while he licked your clit raw.

you moaned around suguru’s cock, the man’s eyes rolling back from the vibrations, twitching as his peak got closer and closer. your jaw hurt, center was sore, and your palms ached from how much you were gripping the sheets. but you didn’t care— not one bit.

suguru delivered a few more thrusts into your mouth before his hips stuttered, coming deep in your throat. you moaned around him, your own orgasm peaking— making a mess on satoru’s face.

the man infront of you panted softly, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock and slowly pulling out; pressing the tip against your lips. your licked off the rest of his come, swallowing to which a soft good girl, escaped him, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss.

your lips moved slowly, feeling satoru leave the bed and soon you; being lifted easily by the two of them. like before they sandwiched you between them, your legs wrapping around suguru whilst satoru held your thighs.

pulling back from the kiss you tried to regain your breath, the action short lived as satoru planted his lips onto your own; stealing it right back away. your gripped suguru’s shoulders tightly, whining as you felt satoru slowly pushing his heavy length inside.

the man pulled back to grunt, fingers sinking into your plush skin as he continued to thrust in. “look at that, sucking me in so easily.” satoru teased, the pair chuckling at the whine that escaped you.

he was halfway before suguru came even closer, grasping the back of your knees and slowly, pushing in— right in the same hole. your head knocked back against satoru’s shoulder, lips parted as a silent cry escaped you.

you felt like you were being split open, arousal gushing and coating their lengths as they pushed inside you. you whimpered, never growing used to this stretch no matter how wet you were. “fuck.. oh fuck, suguru, satoru—!”

“i know, baby, i know..”

“splitting so pretty for us, sweetheart— taking us so well.”

their praises made your head feel light, finally breathing the moment their hips stilled. as desperate as they were to move they waited, knowing you were tired and possibly sore. suguru rubbed your legs carefully whilst satoru kissed the side of your face, whispering sweet words into your ear.

moments passed before your breathing settled, the men taking this as a signal to pull their hips back until only their tips were inside. with a harsh thrust, the three of you were moaning— the two men wasting no time in setting out a pace.

one that worked in rhythm, cocks driving in you and out of you at perfect tandem without a care for your well-being. your high pitched moans covered the room, gripping to your boyfriends tight as your legs shook.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cried out, tears trickling down your brown cheeks, feeling yourself gush all over their lengths. unfortunately they didn’t let up, fucking you through your orgasm— ignoring your desperate pleas to slow down.

suguru leaned close, lips attaching to your neck as his fingers dug into your skin. “you really think we’re gonna slow down after waiting for so long, princess?” he questioned with a simper, teeth sinking into your skin just to hear you cry out.

satoru grinned, hand rising to gently wrap around your throat, the vibrations of your voice pressed against his fingers. his cheek brushed your own wet one, softly mocking your moans as his hips never stopped their harsh thrusts. “you don’t want us to slow down any, do you? such a fucking mess..”

you reached up, clinging to his wrist as each drive in and out of your messy cunt rendered your brain to mush; ruining you. your words became incoherent, fingers curling with your thighs wrapped tight around suguru. the pair enjoyed it all, each twitch, cry, moan— the way those pretty fucking eyes rolled to the back of your skull; it was no surprise their own orgasms were creeping up on them, fast.

“feel so fucking good, sweetheart.. so fucking good, keep making a mess of us.”

“gonna come again aren’t you? yeah, we can tell— clenching so damn tight— fuck..”

throat raw, breath ragged, and your voice pitched; you shrieked as your orgasm hit you like a truck, spraying all over their cocks.

their eyes widened at this, gaze locking and making a mental note to somehow get you to squirt again. for now their thrusts stuttered, becoming sloppy and desperate as their cocks twitched inside.

suguru was first, shoving himself deep and pumping you full of his come— satoru following shortly after with a deep groan.

the three of you simply panted, standing in the middle of the room for a moment before leading you towards the bed; where you laid down in a messy heap.

you whimpered as they pulled out of you, feeling their combined releases trickling from your entrance and to the bed. you warmed however the moment their hands caressed your body, kissing where they previously gripped, spanked, or bit.

“i should have asked for this a long time ago.” you murmured sleepily, hearing your lovers chuckle softly.

reblogs & comments are appreciated <3

[vilsoo]

‎ 𝑽𝑰𝑳𝑺𝑶𝑶 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑺…

‎ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 ‎ ‎ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧… 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫!

‎ 𖤐 ORDER YOUR TICKETS HERE 𖤐 ‎ ֺ [ taglist ]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐘; 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘… Inspired by Universal Studios Halloween Horror Nights, indulge in sex and horror galore at our premiere Kinktober event, HORRORLAND! Would you dare venture our haunted houses, experience our exhilarating attractions, and uncover the scandalous, deadly mysteries of Horrorland?

fandoms: jujutsu kaisen, spiderman atsv, fnaf, re4, codmw2.

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

ㅤ ↓ 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 (𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓) ↓

FRIDAYS🩸 we welcome our fellow monster fuckers into this territory! deadly creatures preying on their victims, serving their lustful fantasies with wild, animalistic urges! your arousal and fear may provoke them further, so beware of the woods…

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟒𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ❞ starring GHOST!LEON KENNEDY (re4)

who is this irresistible creature who has an insatiable love for the dead… and ghosts?

⚠︎ CW: mentions of stalking, slight ooc leon, angst, hurt/comfort, haunted vacation home, voyeurism, paranormal activity, sex with a ghost, gentle → rough smut, mirror sex, switchy!leon, 1980s setting.

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟏𝟖𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄 ❞ starring WEREWOLF!MIGUEL O’HARA (atsv)

during the bloodmoon on halloween, your werewolf boyfriend feels a rapacious urge to knock you up.

⚠︎ CW: established relationship, miguel in heat, rough sex, soft sex, marking, biting, possession, breeding, knotting, impregnating, degrading/praising, power struggle, multiple orgasms, 1980s setting.

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟐𝟓𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 ❞ starring RYOMEN SUKUNA (jjk)

a camping trip you planned with your friends turns out to be a total nightmare, all caught on camera…

⚠︎ TW: suspense, horror/thriller themes, gruesome murder, gore, ritual sex, demon sex, satanism, sadism, betrayal, teratophilia, size kink, double penetration, plot twist, ib the blair witch project (1999), 1980s setting.

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SATURDAYS 🍷 the depths of hell fall on this dark and gloomy city bound to corruption and sin, known as the devil’s playground! lurking within the streets beholds the prurient reigns of terror that which may also arouse parkland guests…

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟓𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ❞ starring NANAMI KENTO (jjk)

with you and your boyfriend being a regular at this fancy restaurant, the owner became very fond of you…

⚠︎ TW: cannibalism, chef/restaurant owner nanami, poisoning, murder, infidelity/cheating, eventual smut, kitchen sex, unprotected sex, jealousy, dark obsession, slight stalking, gore, mutilation.

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟏𝟐𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 ❞ starring WILLIAM AFTON (fnaf)

as the new intern and your boss developing a dark obsession over you, he feels the need to corrupt you…

⚠︎ TW: dubcon, mind control (glitchtrap virus), sadism, murder, psychological abuse, manipulation, predator/prey dynamic, implied age gap, degradation, eventual rough smut, mentions of vanny mask.

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟐𝟔𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐄 ❞ starring CHOSO (jjk)

accidentally bringing a girl back from the dead may have been horrifying, but falling in love with her..?

⚠︎ CW: horror/romcom themes, implied necrophilia (NO intercourse), college au, accidental ritual, romance, mentions of murder, suggestive smut, inspired by lisa frankenstein (2024) and corpse bride (2005).

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FOR OUR HALLOWEEN SPECIAL . . . not only are you immersed into the stories of our attractions, you get the real experience of being a parkland guest having a fun time at Horrorland with friends! but as thrilling as it all sounds, there are many scandals and articles of what really goes down…

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟑𝟏: ❝ 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋? ❞ HEADLINE: PARKLAND VISITOR CAUGHT HAVING INTERCOURSE WITH A SCARE ACTOR!

flirting has become a common fear response when encountering hot masked scare actors chasing you at halloween events. this scandal covers a parkland visitor fawning over the hot scare actor in the Deathgasm haunted house, König, resulting in them flirting and sneaking off together…

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⚠︎ 𝐁𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬. 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. ⚠︎

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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐎 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. please do not steal my kinktober prompts/works/themes! reposting any of my works outside tumblr that minors can access is strictly prohibited. will be cross posted on my ao3 soon.

[arieswritez]

yandere mark nsfw alphabet😳😳 loved the idea

cw; DARK CONTENT! MDNI!!! rape, breeding/baby trapping, dacryphilia, asphyxiation, abusive 'relationships', edging, predator/prey dynamics, nipple play, kidnapping, food tampering, mentions of suicidal ideation, threats of violence, implied death, manipulation, victim blaming, branding, mentions of incapacitation.

about; nsfw alphabet ft. cray cray mark x gn! reader xx a/n; a couple of u asked for this so here it is :D not edited & straight off the dome so excuse any grammatical errors. will edit if necessary xx

A= Aftercare

'aftercare' with yandere mark is patronizing and condescending. a lot of shushing, wiping your tears, and asking why you're so upset. you asked for this with all your fucking cock teasing. it couldn't have been that bad, i mean, he did make you cum! why can't you just let good things happen to you? ;(

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

mark loves your eyes <3 it's the first thing he's noticed from you. how they seemed to gleam and widen while you gave him your undivided attention. he can't count the amounts of times he had to excuse himself and jack off in the bathroom: imagining how your eyes would water with his cock stuck down your throat. or the way your eyebrows would furrow while he jack hammered into you.

C= Cum

yan mark definitely likes marking you with his cum. he likes to see it dripping off your face, along your belly, your thighs, but most importantly, he loves it when he watches it drip out of you. whether you can get pregnant or not - and good luck if you can - there's just something primal about cumming inside of you. marking you in and out.

D= Dirty secret

he's a masochist just as much as he's a sadist. his little obsession with you caused him to get a tattoo of your name <3 right at his adonis belt 🥺 so everytime he's in too deep,, your hands desperately try to hold his hips back,, and your blunt nails dig into the curved lines of your name. it never fails to make his eyes roll into the back of his head 🫶🏽🤭

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

canon typical mark is (was) a blushy lil virgin but yan!mark has a tad bit more experience. he's attractive, he's funny, he knows how to play into the slightly awkward charm that got you to lower your defenses. so it's safe to say it isn't hard to find random hookups every now and then.

it's not all about his experience. he just knows what you like.

you may not know it, but he's. . done his research. and by that i mean, he's logged into your computer or your phone and looked through your browser history. he knows what kind of porn you like. and some of those things are borderline freaky. here you are, acting all innocent, like you wouldn't hurt a fly. or high and mighty like no one would ever dare snuff out your flame.

who would've known you were such a desperate slut?

but that's okay! because he's willing to do anything to satisfy you. . or humiliate you by making you cum. he feels it takes you down a peg, when he pins you down and makes you cum even though you don't want to. even though your mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to hold your climax back while he plays with your clit/cock.

unbeknownst to you, he's watched you masturbate. knows the right amount of pressure & speed that gets your toes curling. he knows you so well & he can't wait to learn more about you 💕

F= Favorite position

mark loves watching you squirm beneath him. most importantly, he loves taking you down. he might even make you think you can get away. the chase, the constant cat and mouse you'd subject him to used to be torture. your teasing, the occasional sliver of skin as you stretched, the way you'd lay your head on his lap as the two of you watched television, the way you'd grin when he blushed. . and the wrestling. god, the play wrestling.

he used to let you win. but now. . now this is real. there's real consequences. so he makes you think you can kick him off while you flail. maybe even lets you get up and run. your elbows are all scuffed during the struggle and he's given you a busted lip, but he lets you think you've won.

god knows he'll catch up eventually.

the games he'd play made you cocky. you thought you were stronger than him instead of considering that it was just him playing nice. so he loves to watch the look of defeat, of deception, anger, and disappointment towards yourself when it's revealed he could've had his way with you all along.

he loves to be on top.

but sometimes,

sometimes,

he likes it when you're on top. some things never change. and lets just say he didn't always let you win play wrestling just because he was trying to be a gentleman. but because he liked the way your weight felt on top of him as you grinned triumphantly, pinning his wrists down.

now, of course, things have changed. he can't let you have all the control. pity. but he forces you to ride him: his hand wrapped around your throat. he could really hurt you if he so much as wanted to. . something he hisses into your ear whenever your pace so much as falters. he makes you work for it. and it takes longer to make him cum when you ride him. fear makes you clumsy, makes your legs shake more, and you're sore and achy and tired, which makes it all the more fun.

so i think his fave is when he forces you to be on top :)

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

yan!mark teases you a lot. comments on how many times he's made you cum, pinches your nipples just to hear you squeal. he's only ever quiet and serious when he's in a bad mood.

H= Hair

mark's trimmed but not necessarily shaved.

you, on the other hand, have to be shaved. not because he finds it unattractive (if anything, it makes him feral. makes him feel like you're something meant to be conquered, something to be domesticated. controlled.)

hence his decision to have you shaved at all times. it's about control.

he forces you into the bath tub and watches as you shave, making sure you're all pretty for him. no, you don't get a say in the matter. you're his little doll. he'll do whatever he wants to you.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

mark is rough. depending on the situation, he may start off slower, softer, easing into you while his words are pure venom. he's grinding into you, making you hiccup, because this type of 'love making' should be reserved for couples. not whatever the two of you have got going on. but of course, he speeds up. roughing you up the more into it he gets.

he's rough regardless of who the object of his affection is, but he's definitely rougher if you're on the masculine side. yan!mark doesn't like to be challenged. he doesn't like talk back. he doesn't like you running around thinking you're big and bad. so he has to knock you down a peg. force you to understand he's stronger than you.

he chokes you out, squeezing your throat until your vision spots. he likes to watch your face change colors. and when your mouth opens, desperately trying to suck in air, he spits onto your tongue 💗

likes it when you - confident, and tough, walking like nothing can ever hurt you - beg him to let you go. beg him not to kill you.

because, sometimes, you fear he just might.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

he does! but when he gets you, there's really no need for that <3

when he hadn't kidnapped you, he'd masturbate all the time. it was the only way to relieve himself. like i rambled about before, he'd steal your underwear and cum into them, use them as tissues to wipe his abdomen clean.

secretly takes pictures of you - upskirts if you wear 'em,, or just candids. cums to your most mundane selfies.

if the two of you were close before he kidnapped you, debbie would send you all types of homemade treats. sweet or savory, whatever it was; you loved debbie's cooking. what you didn't know was that mark would add a little bit of his own . . twist to them. when you'd steal bites of his food, you always wondered why his tasted differently to yours.

and the way he'd stare at you as you ate, jesus.

you thought he just liked the way you'd wolf down whatever his mom cooked. turns out he just liked watching you eat his cum.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

BREEDING!!! whether you can get pregnant or not, he loves the idea of claiming you for a lifetime. of changing your life and forcing you to carry his child. watching you grow round and hormonal. he knows he'd have to keep you on a tight leash; lest you do something you'll regret in order to escape your fate. but it'll be worth it. because after nine months, you'll have another life to look after. you'll be on edge all the time, protecting a fragile, little life, because you can't trust mark to do it.

after all, if you're really bad, he can always get rid of it. start all over again. and you wouldn't want that, would you~?

dacryphilia.

there's nothing like watching you cry. when you'd confide in him about your troubles, when you'd cry on his shoulder, seek solace in his company for whatever reason, and cry. . it'd be really hard to hide his erection. the first time you let yourself cry in front of him was a day he'd never forget. he couldn't stop thinking about it since. wonders if you tear up when someone fucks you. (you do. you will)

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

mark doesn't care where he takes you as long as he's got you. it can be in public or not, just as long as he takes you to the secondary location he'll keep you prisoner in. if it's in the au where nolan & him team up, there will be a compound with all the rebels. you'd be at the top floor in a comfy little penthouse. a gilded cage overlooking the remains of your burned city.

i think he'll first want to fuck you in a place where there'll be no interruptions. if it isn't in the au where him & nolan conquer earth, he knows how to play his role. doesn't want to risk being found raping you. he'll most likely fuck you in a place you hold dear to your heart. your bedroom, could be an example.

because wherever that safe space may be, you won't be able to stand being there without thinking about him.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

he likes it when you act so sure of yourself. when someone's a bit cocky and bossy. it's nice to break you.

it is a whole lot easier when someone's shyer, though. wallflowers always blend into the background.

no one misses them when they go missing.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

there's almost nothing mark won't do to you, sorry ;( even if he doesn't like it. . even if you both don't like it. . he'll always find a way to humiliate you if you've been bad. so it's advised you be on your best behavior if you really don't want him to do some fucked up shit to you. & believe him: it hurts him more than it hurts you!!

all he's ever wanted was to own you.

you were meant for him.

so why fight?

you both know you're not getting out of this alive

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

mark doesn't always give head unless it's to put you in your place. just to show you that he can make you cum and theres nothing you can do about it.

but he makes you choke on him all the time. he's impatient, forcing your head down and hiking his hips up to meet your face. if you've pissed him off, he'll pinch your nose and hold you down. loves to feel your nails dig into the bulk of his thigh. sometimes, you'll make him bleed. he doesn't care.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

mark doesn’t last very long BUT he’s got a very short refractory period and can go for countless rounds. by the time you cum once, he’s already cum like three times and he’s ready for more. by then, he’s already fucked dumb. so your next orgasms will be forced out of you, roughed up and overstimulated as his cum leaks out of you, his cum acting as lube and making the slide intoxicatingly easy.

Q= Quickie

basically non-existent. he loves giving you his undivided attention. and he never stops after one round ;(

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

he loves trying new things with you. he's spent so much time fantasizing about you that he doesn't even know where to start the first time he gets his hands on you. he'll most likely force fuck you more than once in a day the first time he gets the chance to.

S= Stamina

(see pace <3)

T= Toys

loves using toys on you. if you’ve used them before him, he’ll force you to use them in front of him. it doesn’t take long before he takes control: grabbing them and fucking you with them. edging you. if you cum, then it’s only fair he cums, too, right? and you don’t really like that much ;( so best hold it in <3

U= Unfair (how do they tease? edge?)

mark loves to tease and edge you.

you say you hate him. you can't stand him touching you.

you bite and you snarl, kick and punch, yet when he has you pinned, edging you for hours on end. . you end up breaking. begging him to make you cum. of course, he coaches you through it. tells you he'll leave you alone once you cum, he promises. yet he drags it out for so long. hearing you ask to cum instead of asking him to stop is music to his ears.

except, mark is a liar. you shouldn't trust him.

he just ends up overstimulating you after you cum😒

V= Volume

lots of whispering and hissing, talks very quietly and carefully. you'd think he'd be loud. . but he's not. and despite the fact that he may say vile, disgusting things to you, he whispers them to you so nicely. . if he were saying anything else it'd be sweet. he's so patronizing ;( whimpers in your ear when he's close.

W= Wild card

really into pain.

since he's got his powers, it's not very often that he feels pain. sure, there are some fights with villains - while he's out playing the perfect hero in the mean time - that give him a few flashes of pain. but that's once a blue moon.

nothing compares to you.

you fight him like you're afraid he might kill you. and he might. but it's never his intention ;( he knows what kills and what doesn't (trust him) &, believe it or not, he doesn't want to lose you. but you fight him with such intensity he has to manhandle you more than he'd like.

your hits are surprisingly hard. you claw at him and punch and kick, and he's thought about breaking your legs more times than he can count - he still might if you catch him on a bad day - but then that'd leave you completely immobilized and that's really no fun. because he likes it when you make him bleed. he likes it when your hands slap against his face and when your nails try to claw his eyes out. he wears the bruises and the cuts you give him like badges of honor and he loves to bite his busted lip when he's close to cumming.

he loves it when you hurt him. and he loves it when he ends up winning, anyway.

X= X-ray (size)

5-6in & THICK. really pretty w/ plump balls. he cums SO much.

Y= Yearning (sex drive level)

he's got a HIGH sex drive.

you've teased him for so long he doesn't think he'll ever get enough of you. and there's nothing you can do to stop him. if the two of you weren't close - if the two of you weren't friends, etc. - there's nothing you can do to lay low. you'll catch his attention sooner or later and he'll weasel his way into your life before you even realize it. his intentions would appear pure at first. he'd be so caring, wondering if you're doing okay, and protective; who were you talking to? i don't think they're good for you~

and you listened. because it's mark you're talking about. but if you truly knew him, you'd realize his accusations were actually projections.

Z= Zzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

falls asleep fairly quickly after he's wrung himself dry. but that's only IF he's already taken you hostage. if he so happens to assault you while the two of you aren't where he'd like to keep you, he takes you there, first. coupled with his strange idea of aftercare, he is fairly affectionate. or as affectionate as you'd expect him to be, anyway. always with a hint of menace: he'd hold you tight against him, an arm around your waist and the other wrapped around your throat. making sure you don't so much as think about straying away from him 💗💗

[danlous]

Haven't seen many people talk about it but the stuff around sexuality in this episode was so fucked up. The entire premise of the trial is the racist victim blaming narrative where Louis was a lustful predator preying on Lestat. Lestat relentlessly calling Louis to come to him is flipped around so that Louis was saying with his every action 'come to me', and when he denies it he's told he still must've done it at least unconsciously and caused Lestat to become obsessed with him. Louis' attractiveness and mere existence is seen as manipulative and seductive, and it's his fault when someone wants him, literally 'she was asking for it'. Louis and Lestat's relationship being a traditional marriage is emphasized, with Louis agreeing to Lestat's offer of companionship in church at the altar 'with a kiss of acceptance' - and thus agreeing to everything that marriage has historically encompassed for a woman, including obedience and constant sexual availability. It's emphasized that Louis not giving Lestat enough affection and not 'sharing his body' with him anymore is what directly caused the cheating and later domestice violence - with an implication that it was justified since Louis didn't fulfill his marital duties, and the audience agrees. Lestat talking about seven years of 'compromise and denial' and Santiago saying that Lestat was 'teased until he toppled' has sexual undertones too i.e. Louis withholding sex from Lestat is what caused him to lose control.

Lestat skips over the part where he bites and forcibly drinks from Louis, maybe because he's particularly ashamed of it, but Santiago saying 'to us monters, what's a bite between paramours' is a clear reference to it. When you consider that drinking from other vampire against their will is seen as akin to sexual assault among vampires, they're essentially joking about marital rape. Lestat says he's 'burdened with his maker's temper', when Magnus assaulted him and in the books Lestat calls it rape. In 2.05 Daniel said that he could 'be on his knees in a second' if Armand lets him go and in this episode Louis literally gets on his knees for Lestat begging that 'he'll do anything, be anything' if Lestat turns Claudia. I don't think either Louis or Lestat was thinking of any sexual meaning in that moment, but it's kind of hard to avoid that implication when Louis was suffering of low libido and Lestat was already very sexually frustrated with their relationship at that point. Like everything in the show is recontextualized when you know that Louis promised Lestat that he'd never leave him, and do everything he wants, and be happy if Lestat just saved Claudia. And he never left, not in those seven years, not when Claudia tried to leave in ep6, not even after ep5, even though he kicks Lestat out he still doesn't leave New Orleans or say that their relationship is over. That dissociative sex scene in ep6 where Louis pretends that everything is fine while having a full telepathic conversation with Claudia about how he's not going to leave is even more unsettling now

[cece693]

My Pretty Boy (Michael Myers x Male Reader)

Just something I wanted to try out cause even a murderer needs pampering from time to time :) This Michael Myers doesn't follow the movie, game, or remake (in terms of tragic backstory); he's my own take on the character. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: M/n was a killer who used his good looks as bait to draw his victims in. Yet, you know who wasn't so keen on the idea? His boyfriend, Michael Myers.

In the dimly lit alleyways of Haddonfield, a young man strode with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, his piercing [color] eyes scanning the shadows for his next prey. Unbeknownst to those who crossed his path, he was a predator disguised in the guise of a gentleman, a master manipulator who wielded his charisma like a weapon. No one had yet to discover his dark secret, for who would ever suspect an ideal member of society to be a killer?

Pretty privilege was a thing, and m/n knew how to use it to his full advantage. With chiseled features and an allure that could disarm even the most vigilant, he effortlessly manipulated those around him. And that manipulation didn't stop with unsuspecting people, it also included other killers such as the boogeyman himself, Michael Myers.

Their relationship was a rather interesting one—with both men being dominant, it was a challenge for m/n to ease the other into a more submissive role. But oh, when he did, m/n swears he was in heaven.

Michael was a kitten in wolf's clothing.

Despite the blood on his hands, responsible for the demise of countless souls, they possessed a surprising gentleness that could soothe even the deepest wounds. His muteness, a chilling characteristic to any sane person, transformed into a language of intimacy when wrapped in m/n's embrace.

Just the thought of his boyfriend brought a smile to m/n's face, however, his moment of bliss was rudely interrupted. Stopping mid-stride, m/n turned around to see a drunkard leaning against a brick wall.

"What's a handsome man like yourself doing wandering the streets at this hour?" he slurred, his words tinged with a mixture of bravado and flirtatiousness.

M/n arched an eyebrow, smile transforming into a smirk as he replied, "Just enjoying the night. But I'm not as lonely as you might think." The glint in his [color] eyes hinted at something the drunk man couldn't quite grasp.

"Well, lucky for you, I'm here to keep you company."

As the gap between them narrowed, the stranger's arm snaked around m/n's neck, the gesture a brazen display of invasive familiarity that sent a shiver of disgust down his spine. About to push the man off, m/n sighed in relief when Micheal stepped out of the shadows and did the job for him.

Watching with satisfaction as his lover immediately plunged a knife into the man's chest, not stopping until he was nothing but a puddle of mush on the street, m/n felt himself grow aroused. It always pleased him to see Michael in his element; the blood splattering on his lover's mask and suit, painting it a pretty red, never failed to send a shiver down his spine. And knowing this was all for him; that Michael's actions were fueled by jealousy and possessiveness only increased m/n's desire.

When Michael stepped away from the corpse, breathing labored, m/n wasted no time and rushed at the killer. Pushing his lover onto the brick wall, m/n looked down at Michael with dark eyes.

"Impressive as always," he purred, the raw edge of desire evident in his voice. His fingers traced the contours of Michael's mask, feeling the remnants of the stranger's blood. "Did you enjoy the show, pretty boy?"

As the words hung in the air, a subtle flicker of disapproval crossed Michael's mask—his jaw tightened imperceptibly, and a glint of jealousy flashed in his eyes. M/n, ever perceptive, caught the subtle shift in Michael's demeanor. With a teasing smirk, he leaned in, bringing their bodies closer together. "Oh, don't pout, my love. You know you're the only one I want."

Michael remained silent, his gaze locked onto m/n's, the mask concealing the complexity of emotions that roiled beneath the surface. Another thing people seemed to overlook in Michael was his insecurities: yes, he was a stone-cold killer, but he was also a person who harbored deep-rooted issues. With his sister, father, and the town as a whole disregarding him during childhood (where he took matters into his own hands by killing them), Michael didn't want m/n to abandon him either. Beneath the stoic facade that Michael presented to the world, there lay a well of loneliness and longing.

Touching the bottom of his lover's mask, m/n lifted the rubber to expose Michael's lips before kissing them. The kiss was dominating, with m/n pressing Michael further onto the wall, but within the passion, there was a mutual understanding. That each belonged to one another, and nothing could break that apart.

[oddyseye]

EPIC is an absolute banger. The music? Gorgeous. The emotion? Raw. Jorge’s talent? Undeniable. The way Calypso is written? Tone-deaf, frustrating, and honestly pretty gross.

In Homer’s Odyssey, Calypso is not some sad, lonely girl with a “childlike mind” who just loves too much. She’s a vindictive, manipulative immortal who traps a traumatized war veteran on her island for seven years and forces herself on him. That’s not a tragic romance — that’s abuse. She’s not some misunderstood girlboss crying about unrequited love; she’s a literal predator. The Gods had to order her to let Odysseus go. And even then? She didn’t make it easy. She handed him an axe and made him build a raft himself. As if this 40-something-year-old man who’s spent a decade at war and has lost everything needed one more chore. She wasn’t helping him. She was making him earn the privilege of escaping her.

There is no ambiguity to her actions and Homer himself never once tries to justify her.

But in EPIC, we’re suddenly supposed to feel sorry for her. “Love in Paradise” paints her obsession as some dreamy, lovesick devotion. And it is creepy.

The problem is, this version of Calypso erases the reality of what she did. Jorge turns her from a vindictive, manipulative abuser into a sad, lonely girl we’re supposed to sympathize with. That’s not fair to Odysseus, and it’s not fair to male survivors of abuse. Men’s trauma is rarely acknowledged as it is, and here was an opportunity to tell that story honestly — and it got romanticized instead.

Calypso apologizes for “coming on too strong,” as if her actions were an innocent misunderstanding. No. She didn’t just “push too hard” — she abused a broken man for her own selfish loneliness. The song treats her confession as tragic, culminating in her frustration: “Why in the world won’t you love me too?” But that frustration isn’t justified. It’s manipulative, as if Odysseus owes her love because she’s sad and lonely. It’s a narrative that too often gets applied to real-life victims of abuse: “Can’t you see how much I care about you? Can’t you just love me back?” Framing her desperation as sympathetic only romanticizes her cruelty. The issue? These words are carefully chosen to minimize her abuse. She reduces seven years of captivity to “coming on too strong,” as if her actions were an awkward overstep rather than a violent stripping of autonomy. The word “ambushed” is especially insidious — she uses it casually, almost like a joke, to hand-wave away the depth of her cruelty. The framing makes it sound as if Odysseus simply rejected her too harshly, as though her love was just “too much for him”.

Her final plea in the song: “Why in the world won’t you love me too?” …is the most manipulative moment of all.

The focus shifts entirely onto her suffering, centering her loneliness as the true tragedy instead of Odysseus’ years of despair. Her pain becomes the emotional core of the scene, while Odysseus — whose trauma, grief, and loss should be front and center — fades into the background. Calypso’s selfish lament distracts from the reality: she was never a victim. She was a predator who exploited a broken man to soothe her isolation.

It’s even more frustrating when you think about how Calypso is treated versus other female characters in the musical. Penelope gets a whole invented storyline about threats of sexual violence from the suitors — something that wasn’t in Homer’s original text — while Calypso’s literal abuse of Odysseus gets downplayed into sad girl hours. Make that make sense.

Calypso didn’t need redemption, and she didn’t need a ballad. She needed to be called what she is: a captor who preyed on a broken man.

And before ANY of you BRAINDEAD defenders come at me with the “B-but Calypso didn’t force herself onto Odysseus! This is a retelling that removed that part!”—no. You’re wrong. The lyrics in "Love in Paradise" and "Not Sorry for Loving You" make it abundantly clear that Calypso’s actions are still coercive and controlling, even if the story doesn’t explicitly spell it out.

“Soon, into bed we’ll climb and spend our time”. What exactly do you think she means by that? Odysseus outright says no — “Hell no, I could kill you where you stand! I’m no pet, I’m a married man!” — and her response isn’t to respect his boundaries but to smirk at his helplessness. She laughs off his threat of violence because “last I checked, goddesses can’t die”. Calypso knows Odysseus can’t fight her, can’t escape her.

She doesn’t care about what Odysseus is going through. She only cares about keeping him there.

Odysseus says no — explicitly, violently — but it doesn’t matter. She’s already decided how this story goes.

“So if I pushed you, Or if I came on too strong, Or if I ambushed you, For that, I’ll say I was wrong.”

Let’s focus on “ambushed you.” She’s admitting it. She’s admitting she forced something onto Odysseus he didn’t consent to — she just downplays it. Instead of accountability, she turns herself into the victim with: “I’m not sorry for loving you.”

This isn’t remorse. It’s manipulative. She’s telling Odysseus that her feelings justify her actions, as if the way she loves him matters more than the pain she’s caused. And then she twists the knife further:

“Why in the world won’t you love me too?”

This is emotional guilt-tripping. Calypso has kept Odysseus trapped for seven years, ignoring his grief, his trauma, his screaming memories of war and loss. Yet when he rejects her, she makes him the cruel one for not returning her love.

I actually really liked Calypso in The Odyssey because it didn’t sugarcoat her actions. The Odyssey shows that women can be just as awful as men. Coercion, abuse, manipulation, it’s all there. And it’s important to acknowledge that men can be victims of these things too. That’s real, it’s gritty, and it doesn’t shy away from difficult truths. What I loved about it is that it made me think. It wasn’t all about idealizing characters, it was about understanding that people, both men and women, can be flawed and capable of harm.

But then Epic came along and ruined her. They took the edge off her character, made her into this sad, lovesick nymph who just wants to be loved by Odysseus, and completely erased the fact that she’s an abuser. And that’s what frustrates me. Epic fans seem to ignore that critical part of the story. It’s frustrating as hell to see so many people romanticize this version of Calypso without any awareness of the actual harm she caused. Sure, if you haven’t read The Odyssey, maybe you won’t get it, and I get that. But the rest of you? You’ve had the chance to see the truth and still choose to ignore it because it’s more comfortable. You’re not interested in critical thinking or nuance, so congrats for missing the whole point of the original myth.

If you’re going to turn Calypso into something she wasn’t, at least admit that you’re not trying to tell an honest story anymore. Just be honest about the fact that you don’t care about male victims, or your own intelligence for that matter.

[youremyheaven]

Mrigashira: Always On The Run

TW: abuse, kidnapping, r*pe, murder, stalking, violence, incest

I have been doing more research on Mrigashira simply because for the last month or so, I have been seeing more Mrigashira like incidents more and more often (synchronicity, I suppose). It's so fascinating to me how literally the themes of this nakshatra manifest in real life.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the mythology of this nakshatra, it goes like this:

Rohini was Brahma's favourite daughter. He loved her to such an extent that he tried to be sexually intimate with her. Traumatized, Rohini decided to leave heaven. She descended down to earth and took the form of a deer (a deer's head is the symbol of Mrigashira and the word "Mrigashira" literally translates to animal's head) so that she can hide away from her creepy father. Deers are animals who spend their lives in fear of danger. Every day it wakes up knowing that it will have to run for its life because its prey to many predators. There is no sense of safety.

In real life this translates to paranoia, stalking (being stalked as well as stalking others), kidnapping, being held hostage, incestual abuse, obsession, being exiled, going into hiding, being deprived of your "freedom", being gaslit/manipulated, stockholm syndrome, having a violent/unsafe home, being on the run, chasing as well as being chased etc

Lindsay Lohan, Mrigashira Rising (she is also Bharani Moon and Venusian women are highly susceptible to abuse, which I'll explore further in a separate post)

Lindsay starred in a movie called I Know Who Killed Me which revolves around a young woman who is abducted and tortured by a sadistic serial killer. After surviving the abduction, she insists that her identity is that of another woman.

I would say both the themes of being abducted and held hostage and also being very confused about your identity are linked to Mrigashira (I won't give away the twist of the movie, but you should watch it, its not as bad as some people say it is). You have to remember that in the mythology, Rohini changed form from a woman to a deer, so changing identities, being confused about who you really are and by extension being susceptible to gaslighting and manipulation and also being paranoid about the same are all Mrigashira themes.

However, its not just victims who have Mrigashira placements, unfortunately, many perpetrators have Mrig in their charts as well.

Boy George- Mrigashira Sun

In 2007, Boy George imprisoned a male escort in his house, chained him to the wall and beat him up. It was apparently a psychotic episode as George was struggling with cocaine addiction at the time. He was convicted and served a 15-month sentence.

Sia- Mrigashira Moon

Sia felt uncomfortable being in the limelight and would suffer from constant anxiety and nervous breakdowns as a result of it in the early phase of her career. So when she made a comeback, she decided to wear wigs that covered her face and basically kept her hidden from view (all of these are Mrigashira themes).

Sia's relationship and obsession with Maddie Ziegler (Saturn in Mrigashira) has been extremely inappropriate. In 2014, at the age of 11, Maddie starred in Chandelier for Sia who was 38yrs old. Sia was a huge fan of Maddie after watching her performances on Dance Moms and reached out to her to star in the video. This began a long series of collaborations and performances.

Sia kept creating projects for Maddie to be in just so that she can keep her close and in her own words "protect her". But she cast Maddie as an autistic teen in a movie called Music for which Maddie received huge backlash and is considered very insulting movie to the autistic community. Maddie didn't even want to be in it but Sia forced her.

For many years, Maddie was the ONLY person that Sia followed on IG (now she's one of the five people she follows lol). Maddie would apparently have sleepovers with Sia and they'd snuggle in bed together? 🤮🤢🤮idk why a teenager has to live and snuggle with some middle aged woman who isn't even related to her?? Sia gets away with all this bc she's a woman, if a man did all this to a teenager he'd be accused of grooming her. Sia even bought Maddie her first car and tried to adopt her?? Sia basically made Maddie codependent on her from her early teens. I hope one day all the truth comes to light because their dynamic is seriously disturbing and Maddie has yet to speak up about it.

I personally find it morbid that a woman who found fame so nerve wracking and damaging as to hide behind wigs for her entire career would put a literal child out there as the "face" of her brand and then claim that she was "protecting" her. What or who exactly is she being protected from lol? if anything she is being exploited by a creepy older woman.

Linda Hamilton, Mrigashira Moon

Linda played the iconic Sarah Connor in the Terminator who is supposed to be executed by a cyborg sent from the future. The entire movie basically features Sarah running for her life. This is a very literal manifestation of a Mrigashira trope.

Bae Doona, Mrigashira Moon

several characters that Doona has played echo Mrigashira-esque themes. In Cloud Atlas, she plays a humanoid clone who has to eat "soap" which is the food that clones eat to remain acquiescent (it takes away their ability to remember or form new thoughts that aren't programmed into them- basically a scifi dystopian version of being gaslit). She eventually breaks free and learns the "truth" about her condition (another Mrigashira theme is "learning the truth" because Rohini escaped heaven after learning the truth behind her father's love).

Ewan McGregor, Mrigashira Moon

Ewan starred in a movie called Big Fish which is about a frustrated son trying to determine the fact from fiction in his dying father's life.

Ewan plays the father in question. The son does eventually learn about the truth but blurring fact and fiction and not being able to distinguish which is which, being overly suspicious of others and their motives etc are all Mrigashira themes.

Liam Neeson, Mrigashira Sun

In The Taken movies, Liam stars as a former CIA operative who must rescue his teenage daughter and her friend who has been abducted by human traffickers for sexual slavery while on a trip to Paris.

Liam is on the run throughout the movie, except he's the one chasing them and he is on a mission to rescue his abducted daughter (extremely on brand Mrigashira trope).

Bear Grylls, Ketu in Mrigashira

speaking of running and chasing, lets talk about surviving in the wild, which also arguably correlates to Mrigashira. Bear Grylls aka the man who made a career out of teaching people how to survive in the wild has his Ketu placement here. i include Ketu placements because Ketu is how we channel our latent creative potential. it represents our imagination and creativity bc its the lowest point of our subconscious.

BTS made their debut on 12th June 2013, so they have Mrigashira Sun atmakaraka & Jupiter (Pushya Moon, Mercury in Punarvasu amatyakaraka)

I have often wondered why Armies are so uniquely obsessive and why BTS seems mutually obsessed with their armies. For the most part it is a wonderful rapport (minus the saesangs) and knowing their Mrigashira connection cements it further.

Amelia Earhart, Venus in Mrigashira atmakaraka

The Mrigashira urge to be an explorer of some kind is very interesting to me, I feel like they're always breaking into new territories and doing unprecedented things but always paying a personal price for it

Amelia was an American aviation pioneer. On July 2, 1937, Earhart disappeared over the Pacific Ocean while attempting to become the first female pilot to circumnavigate the world. To this day, no one is quite sure what happened to her.

Mrigashira nak is quite prominent in the charts of many people who have similarly gone exploring and never returned.

Michael Rockefeller, Venus AK in Mrigashira, Mars Amk in Mrigashira

In 1961, he was on an expedition (??) in present day Indonesia (then Dutch New Guinea) when the boat he was in had overturned. He was with the anthropologist Rene Wassing who was rescued the next day but Michael was never seen or heard from again despite intensive searches all over the area. He was declared legally dead in 1964. There have been speculations over the years that he may have been a victim of cannibalism (which was practiced by the local tribes).

Joshua Slocum, Ketu in Mrigashira

He was the first person to sail single-handedly around the world.

In 1909 he set sail from New England in the Spray (the name of his ship) to spend the winter in Grand Cayman and was lost at sea. He was assumed to have been the victim of a collision; he and the Spray were never found, and in 1924 he was declared legally dead.

To go exploring and never be found is tragically Mrigashiracore

Hart Crane, Ketu in Mrigashira

On April 27, 1932, Crane, in an inebriated state, jumped off or fell off the steamship USS Orizaba and into the Gulf of Mexico while the ship was en route to New York. His body was never found.

Glen Miller, Mrigashira Rising

American big band conductor, arranger, composer, trombone player, and recording artist before and during World War II, when he was an officer in the US Army Air Forces.

Miller went missing in action (MIA) on December 15, 1944, on a flight over the English Channel. In keeping with standard operating procedure for the US military services, Miller was officially declared dead a year and a day later. Nobody is sure as to what exactly happened to him and his body was never recovered.

Jodi Sue Huisentruit, Mars in Mrigashira AmK

She was an American news anchor for KIMT in Mason City, Iowa. She disappeared in the early morning hours of June 27, 1995, soon after telling a colleague that she had overslept and was running late for work. Since there were signs of a struggle outside her apartment, Huisentruit is believed to have been abducted. However, extensive investigations failed to uncover any clues to her disappearance, and Huisentruit was declared legally dead in 2001.

Victor Grayson, Mars in Mrigashira AK, Shravana Moon

He was an English socialist politician of the early 20th century. 

On 28 September 1920, Grayson was out drinking with friends when he received a telephone message. He told his friends that he had to go to the Queen's Hotel in Leicester Square and would be back shortly. He did not return and no one knows what happened to him.

It has been speculated that Grayson was murdered to prevent his revealing evidence of corruption.

Salman Rushdie, Sun & Moon in Mrigashira

After his fourth novel, The Satanic Verses (1988), Rushdie became the subject of several assassination attempts and death threats, including a fatwa calling for his death issued by Ruhollah Khomeini, the supreme leader of Iran. Numerous killings and bombings have been carried out by extremists who cite the book as motivation, sparking a debate about censorship and religiously motivated violence. In 2022, a man stabbed Rushdie after rushing onto the stage where the novelist was scheduled to deliver a lecture at the Chautauqua Institution in Chautauqua, New York.

After the fatwa was issued, Rushdie took the name of Joseph Anton and lived in hiding under police protection for several years. The theme of Mrigashira running away and trying to hide manifests once again in this unfortunate example.

Vili Fualaau, Uttara Ashadha Moon, Mrigashira Stellium (Mercury, Mars & Rahu)

In the 90s Vili Fualaau's case made major headlines when Mary Kay Letourneau, his teacher was arrested for raping the 6th grader whom she had known since he was in 2nd grade. She was 34 years old and pregnant with 12 year old Vili's baby 🤢🤮🤢and claimed that she did not know that it was a crime to have sex with minors??  While awaiting sentencing, she gave birth to Fualaau's daughter.

Shortly after Letourneau had completed three months in jail, the police caught her in a car with Fualaau. A judge revoked her plea agreement and reinstated the prison sentence for the maximum allowed by law of seven and a half years. Eight months after returning to prison, she gave birth to Fualaau's second child, another daughter. She was imprisoned from 1998 to 2004. Letourneau and Fualaau were married in May 2005, and the marriage lasted 14 years until their separation in 2019. She died from cancer in 2020 and even though they were separated, Fualaau took care of her until she passed away. He publicly claimed that he never saw anything wrong in their relationship.

Obviously many victims struggle to form a coherent understanding of what happened to them. Some eroticize their experiences, others romanticize them or normalize them. Its often difficult for Mrig natives to fully comprehend or understand the insanity of the really messed up things they went through. Fualaau was groomed and raped by this woman since he was a child yet he held her in positive regard and remained married to her for nearly two decades and took care of her until she passed away?

Its similar to Brooke Shields, Mrig Moon who always spoke glowingly about the mother who made her do a full frontal nude playboy shoot as a 10yr old child??

Mrigashira being a deva gana nakshatra is quick to forgive and forget, it is also a Mridu or gentle nakshatra and often times, just how ??? sympathetic they are towards people who have abused them baffles me.

Gary DeVore- Jupiter in Mrigashira AmK, Uttaraphalguni Sun

He was a Hollywood screenwriter.

DeVore disappeared in June 1997, while driving at night from Santa Fe, New Mexico to Santa Barbara, California, prompting an extensive search and media speculation. DeVore was working in his office in Santa Fe trying to finish a script. DeVore had recently complained of writer's block, and so had decided to change his environment. When he finally finished the script, DeVore decided to drive home through the Mojave Desert. His wife Wendy was waiting for him at their beachfront house in Carpinteria, California. When she did not hear from him, she decided to call around 1 am (it was later discovered the call had not been recorded by the telephone company). He answered, but was not very specific on his location. This was the last time Wendy spoke with him.

A year later, he and his Ford Explorer were discovered submerged below a bridge over the aqueduct in Palmdale, California. After police had retrieved the vehicle from the water, it was found that his laptop containing the script (titled The Big Steal) was missing, as was his gun. DeVore's hands were missing; hand bones were found nearby but could not be conclusively identified as DeVore's. The discovery of DeVore's vehicle was considered suspicious, as the aqueduct was searched shortly after his disappearance was reported and nothing unusual was discovered. Police concluded that for DeVore to crash his vehicle in this location meant that he would have had to have driven 3 mi (4.8 km) against traffic without being seen. This would have been doubly difficult because the vehicle's lights were not switched on. DeVore's death has not been solved to date.

Patty Hearst, Jupiter in Mrigashira AK, Sun & Venus in Shatabhisha (I had previously explored how Shatabhisha natives often endure abuse)

She first became known for the events following her 1974 kidnapping by the Symbionese Liberation Army. She was found and arrested 19 months after being abducted, by which time she was a fugitive wanted for serious crimes committed with members of the group. She was held in custody, and there was speculation before trial that her family's resources would enable her to avoid time in prison.

At her trial, the prosecution suggested that Hearst had joined the Symbionese Liberation Army of her own volition. However, she testified that she had been raped and threatened with death while held captive. At the time of her arrest, Hearst's weight had dropped to 87 pounds (40 kg), and she was described by psychologist Margaret Singer in October 1975 as "a low-IQ, low-affect zombie". Shortly after her arrest, doctors recorded signs of trauma: her IQ was measured as 112, whereas it had previously been 130; there were huge gaps in her memory regarding her pre-SLA life; she was smoking heavily and had nightmares. She is said to have been brainwashed into committing crimes for the SLA

There is a really unfortunate pattern of Mrig natives being brainwashed by others, living in hiding, being on the run and generally feeling unsafe. These are some extreme manifestations of the themes of this nakshatra.

[maeby-cursed]

vampire!satoru who’s not used to being in the shadows. 

he gets turned very young and lives through every stage he could possibly live through; denial, starvation, a deep self loathing and a bitter feeling of acceptance. he was never too concerned about harming others but he was also not used to having his liberties curtailed.

vampire!satoru who begins to hunt others.

he needs the blood, quite literally, to survive. he’s also gotten even more vain in this new skin, this odd state of life between what was and death. he hasn’t found any others like him yet so he has no guidance, he hunts men and women alike and tries to figure out what he likes. he can’t help but admire himself though; this new glow of his skin, his elongated canines… he enjoys the blood dripping down his face, the only drop of color against the white of his hair, skin and eyes. 

vampire!satoru who gives up on morals entirely. 

he finds new victims easily and feeds on them, enjoying himself like narcissus in the lake. he buys a mansion by stealing money from every prey and works out a system to enjoy his life to the fullest even if he cannot see the sun ever again. he tricks and manipulates women and lies and slaughters men by the thousands. he feels numb with every drop of blood.

he never once kills a child.

vampire!satoru who meets you.

it’s a cold january night and a blizzard has struck the town he resides in at the moment. he could very well go out if he felt inclined to but he’s not forgotten his lazy ways, he doesn’t feel like chasing some poor victim in the middle of a snow storm just to get a drop of cold blood. he’s not that desperate. 

he spends his night reading, studying, turning the tv on and off and contemplating himself on every surface he can see himself reflected upon. 

he’s in the middle of admiring his eyes on a silver spoon when someone knocks on his door. he’s so startled he drops the utensil, and now he’s annoyed. no one startles the satoru gojo.

vampire!satoru who opens the door and sees your face for the first time.

you’re wrapped in a thick coat, hair floating around your visage due to the wind. he’s struck for a moment with a memory he can’t recall; a warm smile and a mane of black hair. 

“who the hell are you?” he asks. 

vampire!satoru who for an unknown reason decides to listen to you.

you explain how you were about to catch a flight when the storm hit, how you don’t know the town very well and cannot find your way to a hotel. a shy smile makes your cheeks soft when you timidly ask if you could stay for a night. 

vampire!satoru who is a predator, vampire!satoru who is an animal, vampire!satoru who is not human, not your friend, not kind, not good.

vampire!satoru who for a second feels greedy.

you trust him. you trust this creature in front of you who is very obviously not like you, who has the coldest eyes you’ve ever met and the longest canines you’ve ever seen. your instincts know – they must.

and yet… he can see it in your eyes, the kindness hidden behind the pupils that tell him you always expect people to be good, even when you shouldn’t.

vampire!satoru who feels thirsty for something that isn’t blood for the first time in a hundred years.

vampire!satoru who can’t remember who he was all those years ago.

he can’t remember the faces of those he used to love, can’t remember how he looked like or what he thought of the world. who was a human in a world of humans and now feels like a child who’s been told he has to hurt others to survive. 

he can’t remember what he’s done since he was turned, can’t remember the number of victims or what they looked like. who was reborn alone and has lived alone and will exist forever alone.

vampire!satoru who really truly doesn’t want this to be his existence. 

vampire!satoru who answers your question with an “okay” and lets you in.

[straxxberrypunki]

My version of the creepypastas. — Headcannons.

TW: Gore, violence, mentions of cannibalism, predatory behavior, child murder, death, trauma, psychological manipulation, mental health, unhealthy relationships

⌞ Eyeless jack ⌝

- Jack silently accepts his orders, seeing them as necessary. He’s loyal to Slenderman but keeps his distance from others, taking assignments with a sense of duty rather than enjoyment. He sees his tasks as part of survival and doesn’t overthink them.

- Eyeless Jack has two distinct sides. When he’s in control, he can be calm and almost human-like, able to interact with others in a more restrained way. But when the monster side of him takes over, especially during hunts, he becomes feral and predatory. He’s relentless in tracking down his prey, showing no mercy when he’s in this state. His feral nature is dangerous, even to other creepypastas.

- Jack prefers isolation, choosing to live in a cabin deep in the woods, far from the hustle and chaos of the Creepypasta Manor. His cabin is a mix of eerie and clinical, with shelves full of medical supplies, jars, and dark relics from his hunts. The only time he returns to the Manor is when absolutely necessary, and even then, it’s rare. He keeps a room there, but it’s more out of convenience than comfort.

- While Jack can talk, he often chooses not to. His silence speaks volumes, making him all the more terrifying. When he does speak, it’s usually low and quiet, but with an edge that sends chills down anyone’s spine. People learn quickly that if Jack is silent, it’s best to not push him—unless you want to face the monster inside him.

- Jack’s medical knowledge from his days as a med student is still sharp. His cabin is a go-to spot for other creepypastas when they’re injured. They know Jack can patch them up, though he doesn’t always make it comfortable. Jack’s hands are skilled, but his methods are cold and methodical, often with an unsettling amount of precision. It’s more about practicality than bedside manner.

- When he’s hunting, Jack’s monster side fully takes over. He becomes completely feral, his instincts heightened, and his movements quicker and more erratic. During these hunts, there’s little to no humanity left in him—he’s a pure predator. His hunger for human organs takes over, and he won’t stop until he’s satisfied. If you encounter him during one of his hunts, it’s best to stay out of his way.

- Jack’s compassion is reserved strictly for other creepypastas. When one of them is injured or in need of medical help, Jack will help without hesitation—but only if he’s in control of himself. Strangers or anyone outside of his circle are of no concern to him. His medical knowledge is a tool, but it’s not offered freely. It’s a rare privilege that only those close to him will ever experience.

⌞ laughing Jack ⌝

- Jack is bound to Slenderman but treats his assignments like dark “performances,” putting his twisted flair on each task. He resents the leash but finds ways to make the most of it, still carving out his own chaotic style in each kill.

- Laughing Jack has a dual nature. While he can be manic and chaotic, he also has a calmer side that’s playful and taunting. In this state, he enjoys teasing his victims, drawing out their fear before the hunt begins. His playful banter can be unsettling, adding to his eerie presence.

- Jack still takes the lives of children, but he’s particularly vengeful towards parents who abandon or neglect them. His own history of feeling forsaken fuels this rage. If he senses a parent has failed their child, he won’t hesitate to make them his next target. Not out of the sake of the child, but from his own anger.

- Jack runs a paranormal circus that never stays in one place. It moves mysteriously through the forest, appearing only when it wants to. Those who stumble upon it are often drawn in by the lights and laughter, not realizing the danger lurking within.

- His circus is filled with dark attractions and horrors, designed to both entice and terrify. From twisted games to distorted funhouses, it’s a place where laughter masks danger. Once inside, visitors quickly realize it’s a trap, and escape is not guaranteed.

- Jack uses his charm to lure in victims, especially children. He often appears as a friendly figure, using his playful demeanor to gain their trust before revealing his true nature. This manipulation is a key part of his predatory tactics.

- He has a knack for mimicking laughter or voices to attract his victims, using this ability to create a false sense of security. Children might hear a beloved family member’s voice calling for them, leading them into his trap.

- Jack’s sense of humor is twisted. He enjoys playing games with his victims, leading them on wild chases before the final act. He often finds dark amusement in their fear, making each kill feel like a performance in his circus.

⌞ Jeff the killer ⌝

Jeff may be obligated to carry out Slenderman’s orders, but he’s defiant by nature. He often rebels, resisting orders or doing them in his own chaotic way, but ultimately, he doesn’t risk total rebellion. There’s an unspoken resentment in his obedience.

Jeff thrives on chaos, but there are moments where he dials back the insanity. During these times, he becomes taunting and playful, though his version of “play” often involves terrifying mind games. His humor is dark and unsettling, finding amusement in the fear of others.

Jeff is a lone wolf. He prefers hunting on his own, constantly on the move to avoid police. He’s not interested in partnerships or group dynamics; killing is something he likes to keep personal. Being a solo killer allows him the freedom to act without constraints or rules.

While Jeff technically lives at the Manor, he rarely stays there. He uses it as a place to crash between killing sprees, avoiding any responsibility of maintaining a home. When he does return, he’s there only long enough to regroup, grab a few things, and then disappear into the night again.

Jeff loves playing with his victims’ minds before the kill. He’ll follow them, make his presence known, and even speak to them in a taunting, playful way. He takes his time, letting them feel his presence until they’re desperate with fear, making the final kill even more satisfying for him.

Jeff enjoys leaving a personal mark on his kills. Whether it’s a carved smile or a chilling message left behind, he wants his victims to know it was him. He’s more than just a killer; he sees himself as an artist, each kill a dark masterpiece.

Being on the run keeps Jeff on edge, which he thrives on. The thrill of constantly being pursued and evading capture fuels his adrenaline, making each kill feel even more alive. The manor is too comfortable for him, and he’d rather be out on the streets, hunting and taunting his next victim.

⌞ Jane the killer ⌝

Jane’s not as unhinged as others; she kills only when necessary or on Slenderman’s orders, preferring to target bad people or threats. Despite her stoic demeanor, her trauma lingers, and memories of her past haunt her.

Although she craves freedom and a peaceful life with her wife, Mary, Jane remains under Slenderman’s control. She’s bound to fulfill his orders, even if it means sacrificing her independence. It’s a struggle, as she’s constantly torn between her duty and her desire to be free.

Jane is deeply devoted to her wife, Mary, and does everything she can to keep her safe. She lives with Mary rather than at the manor, trying to maintain some normalcy in her life. Jane keeps her “work” separate, not wanting Mary to bear the weight of her dark world.

Jane approaches her kills with precision and efficiency. She’s not one to prolong suffering; instead, she prefers quick and calculated actions, seeing it as a way to retain her own humanity. It’s her way of distinguishing herself from others, like Jeff, whose methods are far more chaotic.

Jane keeps her emotions guarded, even with other proxies. Her trauma has made her resilient but also closed-off. Few truly know her thoughts or past, and she prefers it that way, finding safety in distance.

Though she lives with her wife, Jane sometimes leaves in the middle of the night to handle her assignments, often returning before dawn. She’s careful not to wake Mary, not wanting her to see the other side of Jane’s life. These moments weigh heavily on her, but they’re necessary to keep Mary safe.

⌞ Nina the killer ⌝

- Nina once idolized Jeff, but not as a crazed fangirl. She saw in him a dark freedom she’d always longed for, a way to embrace her own twisted desire to kill. She admired his skill and fearlessness, viewing him as a role model rather than a crush.

- Though she’s lost her admiration for him over time, she still draws inspiration from his techniques, observing and adapting his methods. Part of her finds satisfaction in “outdoing” him, striving to prove that she can be just as skilled, if not better, without his guidance.

- After spending more time around Jeff, Nina’s view of him changed drastically. He didn’t meet the high standards she’d imagined, and she was disappointed by his chaotic, self-centered nature. Her idealized image of him shattered, and she quickly lost her infatuation, though she still finds pieces of his approach useful in her own work.

- Nina’s look is heavily influenced by emo and scene fashion. Dark makeup, bright hair streaks, fishnet gloves, and oversized band tees are her signature style. She expresses herself through her appearance, finding comfort in bold, alternative looks that reflect her inner chaos.

- I imagine Nina with BPD, Nina’s emotions are intense and ever-shifting, which leads her to crave control in other areas of her life. Killing, to her, is a way to assert that control, to channel the chaos of her mind into something she can direct.

- Nina can’t help but want to be the best at what she does. She’s competitive, often setting personal goals to “outdo” other killers, especially Jeff. While she once idolized his work, now she seeks to surpass him, proving that she’s not just a shadow of him but a force all her own.

- Nina has a habit of putting people on pedestals due to her BPD. This happened with Jeff, who she saw as the perfect killer. When he failed to meet her expectations, she felt betrayed and lost any lingering affection. Now, she’s wary of idolizing others but still struggles with her high standards.

- While she’s learned her lesson from idolizing Jeff, Nina sometimes observes other killers with a quiet respect, taking mental notes on techniques that inspire her. She’ll never say it aloud, but she enjoys learning from other Creepypastas and honing her own methods.

⌞ Homicidal Liu ⌝

- Liu has two distinct sides: his calm, reserved self and his split personality, Sully, who’s loud, sadistic, and playful in a twisted way. Liu is efficient and quiet in his kills, wanting to get things over with. Sully, however, prefers to drag things out, making it messy and prolonged, taking pleasure in the chaos he can create.

- Liu often fights to keep Sully from taking over, but he isn’t always successful. When Sully emerges, it’s like watching a switch flip, and Liu is forced to witness Sully’s actions from within. It’s a painful loss of control, and Liu constantly battles to keep Sully contained.

- Liu doesn’t fully forgive Jeff for what happened, but he doesn’t entirely hate him, either. There’s a small part of him that wishes things could go back to the way they were when they were kids, before everything fell apart. This hope is fragile and fraying, a thin thread he can’t let go of. Sully, however, despises Jeff and believes he doesn’t deserve Liu’s forgiveness or sympathy.

- Liu’s insanity is a quiet, simmering rage beneath his calm exterior. He holds onto grudges but expresses them in subtle ways, unlike Sully’s explosive anger. This side of him feels justified and controlled, whereas Sully’s rage is unpredictable and violent.

- Liu often feels like he’s losing pieces of himself due to Sully’s influence. He’s constantly aware of Sully’s presence, and even when Sully isn’t in control, Liu can feel his sadistic impulses lurking in the back of his mind, ready to break free.

- Liu keeps other Creepypastas at arm’s length. He’s quiet, preferring his own company over others, as he fears Sully might resurface at any moment. His isolation is a way of keeping both himself and others safe from Sully’s unpredictable nature.

⌞ BEN drowned ⌝

- BEN is deeply connected to the digital world, able to haunt computers, phones, and other electronic devices. He can appear as a hologram or ghostly figure outside of these devices, giving him the ability to interact with people without being touched or harmed himself. It’s like he’s both present and intangible at the same time.

- BEN has the ability to pull others into the digital realm, trapping them within games, programs, or even corrupted internet spaces. Once someone is inside, they’re subject to BEN’s control and can experience twisted versions of the digital worlds he haunts.

- Most of the time, BEN has a chill, laid-back vibe, like a stoner with a dark sense of humor. He’s prone to laughing things off, cracking taunting jokes, and taking things at his own pace. But his playfulness has a sinister edge; he enjoys toying with people, knowing he holds all the control.

- When BEN steps out of a screen, his form glitches occasionally, like a corrupted game character. He may blink in and out of sight, and his voice can distort or sound static-filled. This effect makes him even more eerie, like something that isn’t fully “loaded” into the physical world.

- Since he’s tied to the digital world, BEN can observe people through their devices even when they aren’t aware. If you’ve recently interacted with him, he’ll sometimes leave small signs: glitchy screens, distorted sounds, or random text that appears and disappears. He finds amusement in watching others freak out, feeding off the fear he causes.

- BEN enjoys messing with people’s devices, particularly by corrupting games, videos, or photos. He’ll add disturbing images, alter music, or glitch the graphics to create eerie, customized experiences. It’s his way of showing he’s watching—and reminding people of the control he has over their digital lives.

- BEN technically “lives” in the Creepypasta Manor, but his actual home is within the digital realm. He’s got his own twisted version of a room inside the Manor’s network, a glitched, dark space filled with flickering screens and corrupted game files. Most of the time, he hangs out here, only coming out to haunt people or interact with other Creepypastas if he’s in the mood.

- BEN’s approach to killing is rooted in psychological terror. He’ll begin by subtly haunting his target through screens, causing their devices to glitch, showing cryptic images, or taunting messages. He’ll push them to the brink of insanity, slowly driving them mad until they can’t tell what’s real anymore.

- For those he finds particularly interesting or those who resist him, BEN may choose to trap them permanently in the digital world. This twisted realm is a place where he has absolute control, twisting reality to his whim. Once someone is there, they’re his forever, condemned to live in a nightmare of endless digital horrors.

⌞ Sally Williams ⌝

- Sally doesn’t speak much, preferring to silently watch and observe. She’s perceptive, picking up on others’ fears and weaknesses. Though she respects Slenderman, she has a rebellious side and sometimes ignores his rules just to push her boundaries.

- Sally loves to play pranks and scare the others around the Manor, but she’s not bubbly or cutesy about it. Her games can be eerie, with her hiding in shadows or appearing suddenly to unnerve others. She gets a quiet thrill from making people uneasy, especially with how silent and unpredictable she can be.

- After all she’s been through, Sally is far from an innocent kid. She understands darkness more than most, and there’s a hint of sadness beneath her quiet demeanor. Her pranks and silent nature hint at a deeper pain, which she occasionally lets slip through her unsettling actions.

- Sally often plays with dolls and draws, but her toys and artwork have a disturbing quality. She’s been known to sew creepy additions onto her dolls or make haunting, ominous drawings that leave others unsettled. Her creativity reflects her experiences, with a dark undertone in everything she touches.

- Unlike many of the others in the Manor, Sally isn’t interested in killing or physical harm. She’s more fascinated by scaring people through psychological games, delighting in tricks that make her target feel watched, unnerved, or lost. Her “games” can be intense, and she loves drawing them out.

- Slenderman acts as a guardian figure to her, and though she sometimes tests her limits, she respects him and listens to his guidance. Slenderman keeps her grounded, reminding her to control her powers and her pranks, even if she doesn’t always follow his advice.

- Sally still has childlike qualities—curiosity, a love for dolls, and occasional tantrums—but she’s not naive or clueless. She has an understanding beyond her years, making her interactions unsettling. She’ll sometimes say things that are too mature for a child, hinting at a dark wisdom gained from her past.

⌞ Slenderman ⌝

- Slenderman is the ultimate puppet master, orchestrating the actions of his proxies and other Creepypasta characters from the shadows. He uses his telepathic abilities to communicate commands and instill fear, ensuring that his influence is always felt, even if he’s not physically present.

- His demeanor is cold and serious; he doesn’t joke around. When he speaks, it’s with an unsettling calm that commands respect and fear. His presence looms large in the minds of the Creepypastas, creating an atmosphere of dread whenever they think of him.

- Slenderman prefers to communicate telepathically rather than face-to-face, allowing him to remain enigmatic and distant. This method of interaction keeps his true intentions hidden and makes his commands more sinister, as he can invade thoughts without warning.

- Contrary to the comforting image some may project onto him, Slenderman is anything but nurturing. He sees his proxies as tools to achieve his goals and doesn’t hesitate to sacrifice them if it serves his purpose. His loyalty is to himself and his plans, not to those who serve him.

- As the ultimate authority in the Manor, Slenderman does not tolerate dissent or disobedience. His influence creates an environment of fear, ensuring that his will is enacted without question. Those who dare to challenge him find themselves swiftly dealt with.

Part 2 soon ; request more creeps you wanna see in the next post !!

[woncon]

➳ deal with the devil

➶ enhypen hyung line x demon!reader ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ "See? Who's the victim and who's the hunter is a matter of opinion. You've got the throwing star, but your neck bleeds because of my teeth. Who's who now?"

The whole university went out to haunt people on Halloween night, but you're in detention. So you're playing a game of hunter and prey. They're the hunters, you're the prey.

Only for a while.

➴ genre: suggestive, demon au, warlock au, supernatural college au, pre-poly / friends in a big situationship

: ̗̀➛ warnings: very slight knife play, jakehoon (not actually, you'll get it), seduction as manipulation (it works!), predator/prey with a twist, biting, making out, actually not as dark as it seems

⌨ :: 4.2K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ i'm a little late, but it's done. happy halloween, engenes! 🎃

⁀➷ thanks to @wonsheep for beta-ing this <3 i'll give you a pack of jelly beans later.

➳ mlist

The cursed piano plays his favorite classic in the Music Room. Melancholic, dark melodies float towards you as the heel of your shoe beats up the silence of the abandoned corridor. You twirl the sweets in your pocket. Jungwon gave them to you before he left to go and scare people. He probably did it out of pity, since you couldn't go with him to the usual Halloween campus program. The piano in the distance starts a new song, and you take off to push the arched door of the Hall of the Immortals, decorated with vines and skulls. The wood wails to let you enter the hall, where the rituals of demons and witches usually take place. Right now there are no reddish pentagrams painted on the floor or heavy, sinister books and bones on the table. Only a few candles flicker and surround a table with four mugs on it. There's a fifth, held in the warlock’s palm, and he's about to plunge a dollop of thick, brownish liquid from the pot with great care into it.

You wait for the door to slam behind you, shutting out the piano's dismal song, but instead somebody catches the heavy door, and you are perhaps a little startled by the sudden presence behind you.

“Mugs? Really?” Heeseung looks on with disbelief as he sidesteps you. “The school has so many goblets, there's one for every rite. And you put the curse into a mug?”

“Don't be such a snob,” says Jay, placing the filled cup next to the others. He neatly arranges them in a circle.

“I'm not a snob,” replies Heeseung darkly.

“Imagine that it's just pumpkin flavored hot chocolate. Four really is just that, so maybe you don't even have to imagine.”

Although, the way Jay is looking at Heeseung right now, he might want the elder to choose the one with the curse. To somehow relieve the tension you sense, you walk over to the table and eye the similarly plain brown china, from which a fragrant, spicy steam rises.

“They're cute,” you note.

Heeseung snorts and leans against one of the tables against the wall. The light from the candles doesn't reach there, and his tall figure is completely lost in the darkness, in the shadow. Remembering how lonely and desolate the university's castle is this evening, you wish he would drink the curse, that he'd be the one to be hunted down tonight. He's so good at blending in, that you probably wouldn't catch him.

“Where did you get them?” You stroke one of the mugs’ handles and stare hard, in hope that you recognise the cursed one.

“From the kitchen. Someone in the divination department has already got the mugs in advance, so that we can paint on them at Christmas.”

It was the same last year, you painted on mugs before the break. Everyone had a chance to get creative and take the results home. But for now, you're going to play. Christmas is still a distant, frost-white dream. At the hour of death, when the bodies crawl out of the grave and the children dress up as monsters while the monsters themselves walk among them, you are going to play a game in which someone nearly dies. 

One of you.

The door opens with another slam. An impatient demon rushes to the table.

“Are you ready? Is the curse in there?” asks Jake, leaning so far against the table that the drinks are shaken and the tip of his horn almost grazes Jay's skin. “Can we start?”

His excitement spreads to the candles. They flare up, burning orange and giving off enough light for you to see the tip of Heeseung's boot.

“Sunghoon is not here yet.”

“Did he chicken out?” Heeseung asks mockingly.

“Haha, no,” replies Sunghoon, who also emerges from the shadows, but not through the door. He came through the secret witch's passage from the hall, which the demons don't know about, so you can only guess which way the entrance might be. “I've just spiced up the curse to make sure it's effective. With snake venom.”

And the flames burn faster, even more brightly. The white wax drips in hot drops down the melting stump, as if to symbolize Jake's anticipation. You, on the other hand, who has no effect on the lights with your emotions, are merely blown away because the contents of the vial Sunghoon brought you mix so easily with the hot chocolate that after Jay spins the tray on which the mugs are standing, you have no idea which one contains the poison-turbocharged curse. 

You're about to find out.

You're all gathered around the table, and it's not just Jake and the candles that are radiating excitement anymore. You can hardly breathe.

“Everybody take one. On three," Jay says in a serious tone. “One, two, three.”

You reach for one of the cups that looks sympathetic. With a trembling hand you lift it to your mouth.

"Ouch, it's hot!" exclaims Jake.

"Obviously. Because it's hot chocolate," Heeseung rolls his eyes. Sunghoon scowls at him.

“Do you feel strange?” Jay asks Jake, who is fanning his tongue.

“It just hurts like hell.”

Finally, after the interlude, you pluck up the courage and drink your own. You are careful, only taking a tiny sip, so you don't burn yourself like others, but it immediately starts burning your mouth and then your throat. You grip your skin, fingers curling into claws, hoping to scrape the tantalizing taste out of you. This is not what a pumpkin flavored hot chocolate is like, not at all.

You fall to your knees, gasping for air. A supporting hand brushes your shoulder. When you feel better, you stand up.

You feel immortal, and yet very, very vulnerable. Weak. Like a victim.

///

Your friends are lurking to kill you.

Three important events have led to this moment, as far as you can tell. First, the day you were learning in demonology class about the various torture methods that demons have developed together with witches. One of these was the curse of immortality, where a person is immortal and can therefore be tortured beyond the extreme. Then came the time when you summoned a spirit with Sunghoon's ouija board. The spirit lady possessed Sunghoon and flirted with Jake through him. Jake was so embarrassed that the armchair underneath him immediately caught on fire, and half the lounge was burnt down before they could put the flames out. It didn't end well for the community space, nor for you. That's when you were banned from going out into the human world on Halloween to haunt. So that led to the third event, when you were wondering what to do to distract yourselves when Halloween came. What could you do to have fun? Jake suggested horror movies. Heeseung said those are boring because what's the point of watching killers hunt when you could be the ones hunting. And the picture came together. 

That's how your friends happened to be hunting you down today. With crossbows, knives, swords, anything and everything they can find. If they catch you before dawn and make you give up, they win. If you hold out and survive, you win. 

The scariest part is you don't know what they're up to. How they're going to get you, and with what.

You fear Heeseung the most. His family is a traditional one of demons who sacrifice goats on full moons and blood moons. With such experience and your horns twisted into the shape that goats’ ones are, it's easy to imagine you as the animal and take your blood until you beg for them to stop. It's just a sick fantasy, you reassure yourself. Heeseung can't see you as a goat if he recalls you kissing in his bed a few days ago. He probably doesn't do that to sacrificial goats. There is some level of tender emotion here.

You turn in after one of the rows of lockers. You don't know exactly where you are. You don't usually have classes in this corner of campus, and it doesn't help that there's no lighting. Yesterday, colorful decorations hung everywhere and talking, red-eyed skeletons strutted at the doors of classrooms to greet students arriving for class. Real bats fluttered around the ceiling, occasionally getting into the hair of passers-by. Pumpkins were placed here and there and their scent was everywhere. But the memory is not worth much now. The university is haunted. A murderers' den. The den of your murderers.

And as much as you're a successful demon, proud of your professors, at this moment you're nothing but a frightened victim, not sure if you're capable of being a ‘final girl’. But you're trying as hard as you can.

In your pocket, you're fiddling with your sweets. Your palms are sweating, your sweets may be melting soon. When the candy papers make noise, you quickly reach out and look around. It is deathly quiet. Everything is still. You've long since left the piano's surroundings behind you. Have they banded together to hunt you down as a team, or are they looking for you individually? Where are the witches' passages? Do Jake and Heeseung use the demons' ones?

You can't hide your fear. Your breathing gets heavier with each passing minute.

It's just a game. Just a game, you remind yourself. Or at least it is now. In the Middle Ages, it wasn't considered a game by the poor people who were tortured to madness.

Something snaps. Must be the knightly armor worn by the fanged pig statues in the corridors. It's been knocked off, then it fell softly to the carpet. What did they knock it down with? That's an easy question to answer when you hear the heavy weapon being dragged across the carpet. A big poleaxe, a very big poleaxe is coming, and it's coming for you.

Your footsteps become frantic, but you try to remain silent and get as far away from your pursuer as possible. The corridor ends in a staircase somewhere, you can make it that far and then decide which way to go. Except that somewhere nearby a door opens. Right in the direction you're going. You're forced to hide in the nearest room before you're trapped halfway down. As quietly as you can, you push down on the handle, squeeze through the gap and throw your back against the door. You close your eyes in the darkness and try to slow your breathing. In, out, in, out.

But you're not alone here either. Something squeaks in the dark, then croaks. Hisses and scratches. It makes a throat sound, rises, then finally lands on your shoulder. It's the three-headed bird, the university mascot. You don't have to see it to know it's rubbing its raven head against your hair. That's the head on the far left. Then comes the owl, and finally the hawk.

He's waiting for a treat. You give him something every time you see him. If you don't, he starts throwing a fit, which means it starts squawking loudly with all three heads as if were an alarm.

“Hi, Casper,” you greet him quietly. “Look what I brought you.”

You reach into your pocket and take out the first piece of candy. Carefully, you peel it out of the wrapper and drop it in the crow's mouth. It happily closes up. Then the owl's opens. You pop the next candy into it, and so far you're very proud of your thriftiness. The hawk is also waiting for its turn, but there's only empty paper in your pocket when you're rummaging around. You remember that you ate the third piece you had, because the poison still tasted awful, even after you'd swallowed the disgusting sip. You sucked on the candy during the rules discussion, and it tasted so good. At this moment, you miss it very much.

The hawk closes his mouth, opens it again, makes a soft noise, then nips the back of your hand.

“I'm sorry, but that's it. That's all, okay? I'll bring you more next time if you don't open your beak, hmm?” You bargain pleadingly. 

Your physical wellness depends on a sugar-addicted monster bird. As it turns out, Capser is not on your side. He flies off your shoulder, his wings rustling loudly in the dark. Then his voice rings out. All three of his mouths start to wag at once, wanting more than two grains of sugar.

“Fuck.”. 

You need to get out. Quickly.

You start feeling around the furniture. You're in the library, you know the feel of the old armchairs. Since most of the lounge burned down, you've been coming here under strict supervision. As you've been here many times, you know there's a secret demon passage in the wall. If you can get there, maybe you'll get lucky and your blood won't stain the furniture. And if you're lucky, you won't run into anybody in there who wants to stab you either.

You start walking carefully and almost fall on your face, tripping in one of the coffee tables. The door creaks open and the bard clatters on the floor of the room. Scrambling on your aching foot, you reach the secret door and throw yourself behind it. And then, with your ankle throbbing, you dash.

You run and run, as if it was the hot, angry hell at your heels.

Somehow you get to your own room. A pentagram lies reassuringly on the floor. You fall to your knees in it, breathing thunderously. You could do with a fiery cup of coffee or an energy drink to give you strength. But at least this hand-drawn pentagram radiates security. It's like you've found sanctuary.

You need a plan.

But when a masked figure emerges from under Jungwon's blanket, you can't think of plans. You leap up to dart for the door, but a sword stands in your way. If you keep going, it will cut you in two. Instead, you jump back into the pentagram and look up at your captor. His mask is a weeping drama face. He's wrapped himself in a cloak that covers his entire face. You cannot tell if the horns you see belong to him or to the mask. He waves his gloved hand at you.

“What's it going to be? Are you going to skewer me?”

The masked man shakes his head. He gets up from the bed, now towering over you. He draws a question mark in the air with the tip of his sword, then points at himself.

“You?” you ask. “What about you?”

He shrugs. 

Maybe this guessing game is worse than if he'd thrown you up on the edge of his sword in the first minute. Him playing games with you makes you nervous. You're surprised to find your fear is fading. This could have something to do with the beneficial effects of the pentagram. In any case, you're able to forge a plan.

“Oh, come on, now. Take the mask off.”

He shakes his head.

You think about the chains under your bed.

You are not allowed to use weapons. Their wounds will not heal as yours will thanks to the curse. But no one said you couldn't use your charm. If your starting point is that you've been in all of their mouths, you have a chance to play this card. What do you have to lose by trying? If they all want to play, that's fine. If they underestimate you, you can take advantage. They have the weapons, but you're smart. If you push fear and panic to the back of your mind, you can succeed. You can succeed because you're tired of running around with them just waiting here and there, chasing you. 

Let this be a game for you, too.

“Should I guess who's under there?”

This time he nods.

“Then you let me go?”

He pauses, thinking. Then he nods enthusiastically. 

He should know better than to make a deal with the devil.

“Hmm. Give me a minute.”

You get up and dust off your knees. It feels good to be back to yourself. You're not looking at a killer anymore, you're looking at one of your friends dressed as a killer. But which one? Heeseung hates wearing masks at ceremonies, not to mention he's not the playful type. If he has to stab you to win, he'll stab you. He's out. You're taking a good look at the masked man. He's got sneakers peeking out from under his robe. Jay's wearing brown boots. That leaves Sunghoon and Jake.

How exciting.

You reach for the top button of your shirt and undo it. And then the next one. “Wow. I'm so hot from running around.”

When you reach the third button, and most of your chest is perfectly visible, the candle on the desk comes to life and burns orange. You smile in satisfaction and put your hands on your hips.

“So will you take the mask off, Jake?”

He tilts his head towards the table, then sighs in disappointment. He takes the mask off.

“You took advantage of my embarrassment!”

“That's it. Now come here. Your hair is all messed up.”

Jake drops the sword, takes off the cloak, and obeys. You take the mask from him and arrange his locks.

“Good,” you nod. You step out of the pentagram. “Claude eam,” you murmur, and the pentagram glows red.

“What? Did you really just lock me up?” the boy asks, stunned. “But I let you go!”

“Sorry, but I haven't forgiven you for threatening me with a sword yet," you blow a kiss in the air, then reach for the robe resting on Jungwon's bed. “And I need to borrow this.”

“What are you up to?”

You just wink, then put on his mask. It's interesting to wear the enemy's face. When you put on the cloak too, you transform completely. You go from prey to full-fledged hunter.

“Oh. You look hot like this.”

“Thanks.”

///

It's not difficult to find Sunghoon, you just have to follow the sound of the poleaxe scraping on the carpet. You tap his hunched back. He looks up.

“Jakey! Did you find them?”

You nod. Sunghoon straightens up completely.

“Where?”

You take him by the arm and lead him to the nearest room. Luckily, there are windows and enough moonlight to keep you from tripping. You're in the dining room. A fitting location for what you plan to do with Sunghoon. You point to a long table with a tablecloth that reaches to the floor. Sunghoon approaches. He slowly kneels beside it, then peers under the tablecloth.

You take advantage of this and push him to the ground, straddling his hips.

"Jake!" he exclaims in surprise. "What are you doing?”

You put your finger over his mouth. You run it down his chin, down his neck, over his Adam's apple, down and down and down his chest. When your palm strokes his stomach under his shirt, Sunghoon's mouth opens, his head dropping to the carpet. With your free hand, you pull the scarf from your pocket. You stole it from one of the ghost decorations and put it to good use when you blindfold the boy. He looks irresistible like this under you. You take off the mask and kiss his chin.

“We have to find-” You grab his hips. He immediately falls silent.

As you push his shirt up his stomach, he thrusts his hips up. You clasp his wrists, lift them above his head, and pull a magic cuff from your other pocket. You stole this from the torture chamber exhibit. It doesn't open with a key, only with a spell. Sunghoon can entertain himself with it.

You cuff both his hands to the leg of the table. You lean to his ear.

“What were you planning to do with that axe?” you whisper.

Sunghoon stiffens under you, but soon relaxes again.

“I didn't mean to hurt you, just to scare you.”

“You succeeded. I don't want to get you laid either, just to get you horny. Did I succeed as well?” You sit on his groin. Sunghoon moans. “Yeah, it seems so.”

“Please…”

“Don't worry. I'll be back soon. There are only two of you left.”

You climb down and out from under the table. The successful hunt gives you endorphins. You can't wait for the next victim to walk into your trap.

///

You don't have to search for long. As soon as a throwing star whizzes past you, all you have to do is turn around and there's Jay. In his hand, he's twirling the next throwing star.  “Give up.”

“No, thank you.”

He throws the next one, which rips your shirt, but doesn't hurt you. You back up to the nearest wall and let him use you as a target. Jay misses again and again. He doesn't want to hurt you, and that's comforting..

“Give up,” he steps in front of you. “Please. We never should have agreed to play this game in the first place.”

You put your arm around his waist and pull him closer to you. “I'm fine.”

“As of now. But you haven't met Heeseung, have you? You didn't see that fire in his eyes.”

“When we meet, I'll defeat him.”

“How?”

"With my mouth," you tell him. You stroke his jugular with the tip of your nose. "I'll beat you with my mouth too."

You lick his skin, then sink your teeth into it, the movement soft and light like a knife in butter. Jay's forehead falls to your shoulder, but he doesn't flinch, doesn't resist. You lean away and smile up at him. His eyes are misty.

"See? Who's the victim and who's the hunter is a matter of opinion. You've got the throwing star, but your neck bleeds because of my teeth. Who's who now?"

“I'm... dizzy.”

“I know.”

You help him slide down the wall and stretch out on the ground. By the time he lands, he's asleep. 

You smeared your teeth with a sleeping potion called vampire kisses. You bought it as a joke, you’ve never used it before. You had to go back to the room to get it, but at least you could see that Jake was okay. He summoned himself a console, and he's playing on it in the middle of the pentagram. 

You wrap the stolen cloak around Jay's body, then head to finish your hunt for the day. 

You plan the finale to be truly spectacular and grandiose.

///

The cursed piano doesn't play alone. Ten fingers rest on its keys and duet with it. The music is somber and dark, deep but inviting. You hope Heeseung, your last killer, your last prey, will come to hear your serenade. You’re playing for him.

You aren't disappointed. He doesn't even try to hide his footsteps, as if he was just waiting to see when you'll reveal yourself to him.

"It's a painful song," he says when you finish. You turn towards him on the bench.

With the light of the candles you have lit for the occasion, his face is half lost in the shadows, but you easily recognise the pocket knife held loosely in his hand.

“Painful, but beautiful. Just like you.”

Heeseung chuckles. “How can I stab you when you’re flirting with me?”

You shrug. “Be creative.”

“Yeah?”

He steps closer. He lifts your chin with the tip of the knife. There's indeed a wildness in his eyes, but Jay misread that. He's not like this because he wants to kill, but because he can give chase. You know it because your gaze would be the same if you looked in the mirror. The happiness of a successful hunt turns Heeseung's face red and makes his eyes sparkle, but he doesn't actually want to hurt you.

One by one, he cuts off your buttons and looks you in the eye. They all fall to the ground and scatter.

“I met Sunghoon on the way here.”

“Did you like the view?”

Heeseung's tongue strokes his fang. – “You're evil. Wicked.”

“I wouldn't say that. I'm rather consistent. They were the ones who made a deal with the devil. These are the consequences.”

“And what do I deserve?”

“I'm thinking about it.” Even though you say that, you already know what you want to do with him. You want him to remember that you defeated him for a long time.

“That means you're not giving up, right?” Heeseung helps you out of your shirt.

“If I remember the rules correctly, the game is over when I beg.”

“Understood.” He sits down next to you on the piano bench and kisses you. You part your lips and brush your tongue against his. Heeseung shudders. Your palm slides to his thigh, and he drops the knife. 

Of the four, he is the most hungry for touch. He doesn't like to admit it, hiding behind his smug, cold and mocking mask, but when you’re making out, it's obvious. You lean in close, let him touch you where he wants, and when he can't think of anything but you, you ask him.

“Did I win?”

“You won.”

It's as sweet to hear that from his lips as it is to kiss them. It's as sweet as Jay's blood, the fire from Jake's embarrassment, or even as sweet as Sunghoon's commitment to drag a bard across campus just to scare you. Sweet enough to make your victory complete.

[akingdomscrypt]

Blood on Their Walls (Blood on My Hands)

Part One

Pairing; transmasc!reader x ????

Word Count; 4.6k

Summary; You're Her favorite. Act like it.

Warnings; murder (unnamed side character), blood, 27's weird serial killer vibes, human trafficking, dehumanization, panic & mild dissociation, stockholm syndrome, emotional manipulation, past non consensual body modifications & talk of future ones, needles (it's not as bad as it sounds)

A/n; I'M BACKK and I've had his story planned out from the beginning, second only Mouse :3. Dog/ animal metaphors for characters hold a special place in my heart y'all . And again, character pairing isn't mentioned as a result of the poll did forever ago

---"The Favorite"---

Nestled high up on a hill, surrounded by towering trees of ash, you're laid out on your stomach, buried in a dense thicket of underbrush. The articulated armor plating every inch of your body shields your skin from potential splinters and unwanted thorns—though the sharp barbs did snag and tear at your thick cloak.

The only sounds around you are the quiet rustles of rodents scurrying through the undergrowth, the distant hoot of an owl, and your own muted breathing. 

If you weren't who you were, if you hadn't lived your entire life going through trial after trial, endless experiments and rigorous training regimens, you wouldn't have been able to lay here. Perfectly still. Not moving even a centimeter beyond simple breathing—and even that could be temporarily optional if the need arose—, and watching.

For nearly a twenty-four hour period. 

Watching, waiting. You don't need a scope to see it, don't need those bulky night vision goggles like typical soldiers did. Your own two eyes were plenty efficient on their own.

Catching every slight movement through the two north facing windows; you had been observing it since before the sun greeted the land and now, still, far after the ball of fire had sunk below the horizon. 

Though as great as they may be, it is by pure luck that none of the many guards making their rounds around the building flash a light your way, as, even though you are expertly concealed and undetectable to the human eye, the unnatural gleam reflected by your irises would be a dead giveaway. 

Everything has its consequences.

But nothing of the sort happens, and you are left utterly alone to watch your prey in peace. 

Some old, retired veteran She wanted dead. Mostly grey and starting to bald. Somewhere between its forty-sixth and forty-seventh year alive; not that it mattered. It wouldn't be adding anymore years to that number.

It was prey, you its predator. And you were a very, very capable one.

The best.

Her best.

Predator-027.

Or, as stitched into every item of clothing you had, stamped onto every piece of equipment you owned, embroidered into your collar, and branded into your skin; P-027.

Top of your class; Her favorite.

It's almost laughable how easy it is to slip into your targets’ residence undetected. It had taken nothing more than slinking past a couple dozen armed guards, too dumb to notice you unhooking a key card from one of their belt loops, and swiping it through the reader on the door. The idiots are oblivious even to the beep that rings out when the light flashes green and the door unlocks with a harsh thack. 

The plain white card slips from between your gloved fingers, left to lay innocently in front of the victims’ door. Someone would need to discover the remains of your prey, and you did not plan on leaving the same way you had come. 

Nor did you expect to be here long. 

You don't turn on any lights, footfalls soundless on polished hardwood, barely even breathing as you make your way to your prey’s last known location. 

It would be much simpler to wait until it fell asleep, vulnerable and unaware, and most soldiers, even the majority of your fellow Predators, would take that path.

But you were the best, and you didn't need to wait. No use in lingering longer than absolutely necessary; you know exactly where it is, and what it is up to. 

The old general doesn't get further than wide, frightened eyes and a sharp intake of breath before your blade is slashing through flesh. Gloved hand on its chin, forcing the jaw shut, the pointed end of your knife dragging from one ear to the other. Blood poured down its pale hide, soaking its shirt and further. 

Dull blue eyes locked in permanent terror, jaw unhinged in a scream that would never be heard. Now laid supine on the hard floor, lowered with little effort on your part despite him being larger than yourself. Moonlight filters in through the window you had earlier observed it from, causing the pooling crimson around the carcass to shine and glimmer with the likeness of a ruby. 

A shame, really, that such a pretty substance circulated within those who didn't deserve it; sealed away under layers of useless flesh until you arrived to free it. And liberate it you did, as the liquid now flowed freely around its fallen form, painting the perfect flooring a beautiful shade of scarlet. 

Not a spec of blood marks your uniform, the layers of black as flawless as when you had entered. 

Your window is closing for the most important part of your assignment, though, so you don't linger much more. 

This task is a bit more unpredictable than the kill, so it eats up a little more of your time; with the occupant now deceased, you are free to roam and search the resistance without interruption. 

For the next half hour at least. 

Most soldiers kept it beside them at all times.. but a man like this, home neat and orderly, old uniform pressed and sealed with plastic in the master bedroom’s closet—decorated with dozens of tiny, colorful pins—wouldn’t just leave it out in the open. No. It would be somewhere hidden, somewhere memorable. 

Like a shrine. 

And just as you'd assumed, like a beacon the jewelry box on the dead general's dresser calls to you. Opening the few drawers embedded within the wooden, carved box is unnecessary, as, surely, a man so prideful of his old duties wouldn't bury it so far out of sight.

And there it is. 

Laid under the lid just as you'd anticipated; two circular disks identifying your prey as a once beloved man, threaded through a pristine chain. 

Shiny metal becomes shrouded by black shadows, nestled in the dark fabric of your gloves as your fingers curl around it. 

You stop to feel the hard lines through the cloth for a second, two, three, four, before tucking it away and making for your exit. Out the window and into the night.

His identity stolen, now yours. It belonged to you. 

Just as many others did. 

Back at home base, your first priority is to get through protocol as quickly as possible. Looking forward to returning to your personal quarters and stashing away the bits of metal you'd stuffed in your pocket. 

Getting in the compound is easy, not a single word needed to be spoken. A glance from you through the lense of a camera, and the two guards standing just inside the facility push a button, letting you into the first chamber. Then the next, and the next. Until you are through and into the first major checkpoint.

A single nurse quickly assesses you for any injuries, and, when he finds none, sends you on your way without another word. There is a sense of hunger that lingers in your empty stomach, but you push it aside, strutting down corridor after corridor. Past the lower levels where training is held, where the younger hatchlings sleep, then the average Predators and their handlers, and higher still. 

Greetings are traded with brief nods and murmured words amongst common soldiers, but none even dare to raise their gaze to meet yours.

Sure, everyone knows each other, and may recognize them by a simple number in passing. But you, you. You walk these halls with a confidence they could never possess. A title and position they could never have, could never hold nor fathom. Because you are Her favorite, not them. And they all want to be you.

And because you are Her favorite, you are granted the honor of being able to visit and decompress from the operation in your quarters before giving Her your debrief. 

Which is exactly where you disappear to, after every single mission, back in your room with the overhead light on the dimmest setting, your belongings bathed in that low, warm glow.

A bed pressed in one corner, a desk on the opposite wall, by the door, and a nice little closet to organize all of your clothing and weapons in. 

Your target at the moment is the good sized box that fits perfectly under your bed; made out of cardboard and just small enough to slide in snugly, something you'd picked out of the warehouse several years back. 

It's not like anyone would miss the little thing anyway; it got far more use here, in your room, than it ever would in the dusty corner of a storage room. 

Carefully, you unbuckle each of your gloves, sliding them off by the middle digit and laying them on the floor beside you. Then with tender hands, you guide the box out from beneath your bed, placing it in your lap and gently unfolding the top. 

You take a moment to appreciate the collection you already had stored away, the metals inside varying from rusty and bloodstained, to polished and shiny. Some held together by a keyring while others were looped onto a chain; several more lay loose at the bottom of the box.  

Next you reach a hand into your pocket, grasping the cool metal between your fingers; cradling them in your bandaged palm, savoring the victory of yet another operation. 

Now dangling the tags above the rest in the box, gently holding it up by the chain, you slowly lower it atop the rest. A new add-on to your collection. 

Another name that you own. 

Closing it back up, you slide the box back into its rightful place, making sure it stays hidden from view. Buckling your gloves back into place and pushing yourself up to your feet.

You beeline for Her office right after that; to the right down the hall and up one last final staircase, Her place nestled directly above your own.

A subtle one, two tap of your knuckles against the metal door is all it takes for the automatic lock to slide open, granting you entrance. An invitation you take immediately, not wanting to be late.

She is still in the middle of a meeting with a few other high ranking officers when you enter, but that doesn't affect you. It only means you will have to be a little patient. You're good at that.

Your legs carry you to stand in front of Her desk, a pace or two behind the occupied chairs positioned before it. Posture straight and stiff, shoulders back and chin raised; gaze dead set on the empty space in your direct line of sight. 

She doesn't leave you waiting long, acknowledging your presence with a soft sigh and an endearing drawl of, “Ah, there's my dog. Right on time.” 

The sound of wheels rolling over hardwood flooring and the subtle vibrations that travel through the ground tell you that She is approaching.

Now in your line of sight, She gives you a glance only you could decipher. In the presence of company, you better be on your best behavior. 

Good dogs get rewarded, disobedient mutts get The Muzzle (and The Box if She's feeling particularly unforgiving). 

Which means you don't flinch when She moves to loom behind you. Grabbing your jaw firmly with one hand and bringing a pair of surgical scissors to your face. With a single finger, the hand with the tool hooks under the thin fabric of your cowl, yanking it down in one swift movement to reveal the mask beneath. 

Readjusting Her grip on your jaw first, She then deftly slips the cool metal instrument beneath the mask; removing each and every neat stitch with a practiced precision.

You can feel the other three officers’ eyes burning into your skin as she slowly unveils your face, causing your heart rate to increase, just a bit. The urge to flee seeping into your bones, a crawling sensation prickling under your skin, growing increasingly stronger the more they stare; as if hundreds of little maggots have begun to wiggle and squirm beneath your delicate flesh, gnawing away at the muscle and fat that lies just beneath. 

But you don't move. The mask comes off, falls silently to the floor, they stare, Her hand is on your skin, the urge to claw, to itch, grows- but you stay still. Obedient. You're a good dog.

“It's perfect, isn't it?” She speaks suddenly, and you hear the three men murmur their agreement. “A perfect dog, I've trained it well.”

“This the one you are lending out overseas?” One of the men asks. You don't look, don't tear your gaze away from the wall in front of you. This is the first you've heard of being sent out again. So far out, no less. 

Maybe the man is wrong. Isn't it a bit early to send you into the world again? You've only just gotten back.

“It is,” She sounds smug when She says this. Confident, and you let out the breath you had been holding; slow and controlled, the way your muscles tense up further is imperceptible to the other people in the room. But you know She can feel it.

Her eyes say all that is left unspoken when they flick back to you again. 

You don't meet those piercing hues; keep your own gaze locked forward. Don't look. Never look. That was lesson number one.

“As you can see,” She continues, one hand still on your jaw, holding you in place, the other moving to make a grab for your right arm. Limp in Her hold, pliant, as she moves it this way and that. “He's perfectly obedient. My best one yet; I can do anything I want to it. And it will remain loyal, will not resist.” 

“We're even in the process of a few additional body modifications to improve it.” Her hand slides down your arm to grip your wrist, unclasping the glove before slipping it off and dropping that on the floor too. “Something that will pair well with these,” 

Next comes the bandage wrapped around your fingers and secured around your palm. It, too, is discarded in a pile at your feet.  

Your fingertips are still sore, and it's a challenge to not instinctively flinch away as She trails a digit over one of the healing scars. “We haven't used them in practice yet, but my team is confident they will perform excellently under pressure.”

Five, surgically implanted, claw-like structures to replace the blunt nails that used to be there. Still a bit new and soft, the flesh red and raw around the incisions. 

Your left hand is identical; the keratin-like material is set to be hardened and ready for use following the next few weeks. 

“And if they don't?” Another man asks. His voice in particular grates on your nerves, worse than the sensation of another person's flesh touching your own.

“Then we'll remove them,” She says, and you can feel Her shrug from where She stands behind you. She twists and turns your hand, showing off every angle of the alteration that had been made to your hand to the men in the room. “If they do, we will begin preparations for performing the same procedure on the others. Starting with the Hatchlings.” 

Dropping your hand, She moves on. Not quite finished with you yet. 

“If this one is a success, we're already working on the logistics for its equally fatal counterpart.”

“Which will be..?” The third man finally speaks up. Always so soft spoken, you hardly ever hear this one say much more than a greeting to Her. 

She doesn't use words for this part, simply adjusting Her hold on your jaw and giving a small squeeze. “Open.” She commands, low enough to only be picked up by your ears.

You do just that. Letting your mouth fall open, giving her full access to that part of you as well. And she takes it with greed.

Prying your pliant jaws apart and using the other hand to pull your upper lip up and out of the way. Displaying your well-kept teeth to the others, the appraising hums from the three men tell you they know exactly where She's leading this. 

“The human bite is one of the deadliest in the world,” She says, pushing two fingers into your mouth. All with the confidence of someone who knows that an obedient dog like yourself would never consider biting Her. “And that is just with the sheer amount of bacteria found in our saliva. Not taking into account that humans are capable of exerting a bite force of up to 125 kilograms. Take that and add a full set of razor sharp canines on top?”

Saliva pools on your tongue, beginning to flood your mouth, but you don't dare to swallow. To do anything without Her direct permission. 

“Just imagine that..” And right before it spills over, She withdraws. Pulling Her fingers out of your mouth and urging your jaw closed. You swallow greedily, the relief instant. 

She continues to speak after that, but you don't pay it any mind. Mind blank as She secures the glove and cowl back in place; the under mask discarded in a trashcan. 

At some point you end up standing beside Her desk, Herself now seated back in Her chair. Your gaze once more locked on nothing in particular, simply staring into the air ahead.

Her voice, along with the three others, becomes white noise as you wait. 

The meeting lasts for a while longer after that, you pay no attention to what they say. You don't need to, good dogs don't have to do anything but follow orders. And your current one was simple; stand and look pretty.

With your glove back in place, cloth wrapped around your face, you are much more calm. No longer does your skin burn with the need to itch and tear at it, and for the most part, nobody pays you any mind. 

All except one. You feel the soft spoken, no-name man sparing you a glance here and there throughout the meeting, but you ignore it.

It is not your place to question, nor wonder others’ actions. Your place is to obey. And you are very good at that. 

Besides, you have other, more important things to mull over. Like where She could possibly be sending you, for one, after you had just arrived back in the Nest this morning. 

She never shipped you out again this early, usually giving you a couple days grace period before sending you off again. 

It seemed to be set in stone already, though, so never mind the why, it was the where that was concerning. She usually kept you close to home; you didn't appreciate the loud, obstructive bangs and clanks that large vehicles created. The sounds are much too bothersome for your heightened senses; even before your transformation, you'd always had sensitive ears.

This is why, for the most part, you traversed to your assigned target hotspots by foot. You much preferred that over the headache of cars and other noisy vehicles. 

The same went for your eyes, which is why you usually only hunted at night; the sun and bright, artificial lights much too intense for your nocturnal sight. 

The meeting is officially drawn to a close when the last officer exits Her office and the door clicks shut. Only then does She acknowledge you again, chair turning and a soft sight leaving her lips.

“Go sit.” She commands, and you follow quickly. Your muscles enjoy the small stretch after both today's standing and yesterday's position stuck laying on the ground. 

It ends all too soon when you make it over to the little sofa in her office; pushed up against the left wall and far from comfortable, but the familiarity is a comfort on its own and you relax marginally once seated on the hard cushion. Legs off the floor and folded neatly so you can sit with your body turned inward, hands folded in your lap. 

She takes Her time, collecting a few items from Her desks’ drawer before coming to sit in front of you on the sofa. Her own hands are gloved this time too, a small detail that lowers your guard significantly. The smooth latex against your flesh much better than skin on skin.

“You did well, 27,�� She murmurs, that soft tone reserved for when speaking to you and you only. Mindful of your sensitivity to sound; though in front of company She has to put up a tougher act. Can't let them know She has any weaknesses, as She always tells you. “Always obedient. Never doubted your capabilities for a moment.” 

Gently, She takes one of your hands into Her own—the one She had used to showcase your most recent modification—removing the glove with a practiced ease. 

“You know I do not enjoy sending you back out so early,” She begins, and you nod along. Watching as she carefully inspects the stitches in your fingers, checking each one then pulling out a small bottle. Delicately coating the incisions with the ointment. “But this one is urgent.” 

Next is the wrap, looping the bandage around each finger once, twice, before going once over your palm and securing it around your wrist. 

“I have made multiple accommodations already, you know how much I hate seeing you in discomfort, but I will be sending you overseas.” Your other hand clenched reflexively, a sharp pain electrifying your nerves from the very tips of your fingers and up the entire length of your arm; burrowing into your shoulder. 

“I know, it's not what either of us want.” Replacing your glove She reaches for the other, unfurling your stiff fingers and repeating the process. Glove, ointment, bandage, glove again. “But if you want to keep being good, I need you to do this for me, okay? It's an easy one, don't worry.” 

Both hands done, next comes the mask. Ever-so-softly, She reaches with both hands, slowly lowering your cowl. You didn't mind it so much when it was Her looking at you, because you knew She didn't expect you to look at Her back. She wouldn't scold you for staring between Her eyes instead of directly at them; not like He did.

“You will attach yourself to a commander over in North America, do whatever he tells you, just as you would with me,” you tense at that, but She soothes you with a soft hum and delicate brush of a gloved thumb over your cheek. “You will not give him full control, of course, you are still my dog, not his. But in order for this to work you must infiltrate his very operation; earn his trust and the ones of his comrades.” 

Just like earlier, She commands an “open,” and taps your jaw; only this time it's a soft murmur and not the harsh uttering when in front of company. You do as you're told, and She quickly scrapes off what had been applied before your last operation. Wiping it off on a cloth She had laid on Her thigh, then, carefully, She coats every bit of your teeth in a fresh layer. A sticky substance upon application, but fast to dry, intended to keep your teeth clean and protected until the next mask removal. 

Cradling your jaw with one hand, She takes care in cleaning your face of all the grime that had collected on your skin during your week-long operation—a couple days spent getting there, one for the kill, and then the return home. Making sure to remove every bit of sweat and such before drying you off with a soft cloth.

“Now,” She says, letting your skin finish drying while She prepares the needle and thread. A fresh mask already readied on her lap. “Although this is more of a recon operation, you are, as usual, permitted to eliminate any and all prey that threatens your assignment.” 

Having done this so many times before, you barely even feel the slight pinch of the needle entering and exiting your skin again and again. Already used to the feel of the thin string moving beneath the surface of your flesh, the tug and pull as She secures the new mask to your face. Still a plain black, the fabric plenty breathable even with the addition of the usual cowl on top. 

Once the last stitch is placed, leaving a small hole at the bottom, She gently gives it a few tugs, assuring it stays where it should. 

You feel Her gaze locking onto your eyes, and you spare Her a glance in turn before looking away again and giving a brief nod. 

You can do this, of course you can. You are Her favorite for a reason. 

It's just a little rushed.. but you know She would never give you anything you couldn't handle. Your hands, currently snuggly wrapped in bandages, is proof of that. Even though the surgeons had given you a funny look when you'd scoffed at the idea of being put under. You hadn't even struggled. She had been so proud.

You are packed up and on the aircraft the next morning. A duffle containing everything you could possibly need over the next few weeks, or however long his operation may take—that is where She had been a little unclear, not giving you a specific date of return when you had asked—, resting on the bench beside you.

It was you, the pilot, and an older officer onboard and no one else. 

You didn't like the uncertainty of not knowing the exact dates and times of your missions very much. It unnerves you, having an empty slot of time looming, daunting, waiting for you to fail. A solid end and beginning gave you something to lean on, a safeguard to keep you from floating away; otherwise you were nothing more than a lost duckling at sea, awaiting the relief of a predator's jaws. 

Because what were you when stripped of what She gave you? Without the enhanced vision or hearing, the endurance or strength, everything She and the collective gave you? Nothing. 

She saved you. She took you in when no one else wanted you. And you owed Her everything. 

So despite the fact that the very thought of this operation had cold, liquid dread filling your veins, an imminent sense of something lingering over your head- you would do this. For Her.

You are nothing without Her. And never could be.

The ordinary headphones issued to protect ears from the harmful noise of the aircraft were not enough for your own oversensitive ones, and She had kindly requested a pair specifically to cater to your specialized needs. Even the man sent to accompany you on this flight had been directed to sit on the other side of the cabin, giving you plenty of room to sit and be without feeling overcrowded.

Your bag carries extra cloaks and masks, neatly organized knives and other small weapons, dozens of packets of standard issued blended foods in your favored flavors—courtesy of Her, likely—, a couple metal straws for eating and drinking, some personal care items, everyday clothes, and, of course, a mini sewing kit and other miscellaneous things to repair your clothing if need be. She had even included a good chunk of cash secured by a metallic clip in American currency. 

She did everything for you, put so much effort into you, and it was time you repaid Her kindness.

At least now you knew where you were headed. 

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[vilsoo]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 ⌇WILLIAM AFTON

william afton x fem!reader || WC: 4,172

𖤐 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. as the new intern for fazbear’s entertainment, you seemed to have grabbed william’s attention. but when an innocent work crush becomes a dark and twisted obsession, the only way he can have you is by corrupting you...

𖤐 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. dubcon, mind control (glitchtrap virus), sadism, murder, psychological abuse, manipulation, predator/prey dynamic, implied age gap, degradation, eventual rough smut, mentions of vanny mask.

𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑹𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑫/𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑻𝑶𝑩𝑬𝑹 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

[RIDE ANNOUNCER] This is a high speed roller coaster with sudden stops and drops! All riders must store loose items inside of a locker. This ride contains flashing scenes, special effects, and content warnings posted. Please remember to stay seated and keep all arms and legs inside when the vehicle is in motion. Any kind of photography is not allowed during the ride. Thanks for your attention and cooperation. We hope you enjoy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Your innocence drives William Afton insane.

He remembered the first day he hired you. You were just a young woman in university looking forward to this internship with a good hourly wage. And as time progressed, you were always this sweet and tender being for him. He loves to watch you doing your own thing, his movements furtive and unnoticed as he easily blends in with the shadowy corners of the pizzeria. He was intrigued about the fascination you have for his animatronics and their quirky mechanics. Perhaps you were just as gullible as his other child victims who were too late to realize his creations were actually killer machines.

However, William’s thirsty murder drive wasn’t as insatiable for you compared to the mindless little children in his pizzeria. Your curiosity was just too adorable to him that it makes him sexually enraged sometimes. There was something about an alluring woman like you that crawled under his skin, riling him up to corrupt the dark depths of your mind. Make him own you, use you, and just ruin you as his precious little whore.

And that’s when he designed the Vanny mask. A special mask created with the augumented glitchtrap virus that mind controls and corrupts whoever wears it. Just thinking about you being completely under his control, your sharp-witted brain clouded with desire and devotion for him, and only him, made him lose his mind.

It was closing time and all the guests were gone for the night. You were powering off all the beloved animatronics in the parts and service room, ready to go home and finish your assignments. But it wasn’t until William’s shadow overtook your peripheral vision, noticing him leaning against the doorframe with a gentle, nurturing smile on his face.

“Working late again?” he coaxed, the husk in his voice sending a shiver coursing down your spine. You must admit, Mr. Afton is a very fine man for his age despite the huge age gap. Your eyes furtively glide up his arms from his rolled up purple dress shirt, taking in his firm biceps and his entire muscle structure almost visible. Attractive, veiny arms and elegant, clean hands with long, slender fingers— you had to quickly glance away before you got caught staring.

“Sorry. You know how much I love to spend time with the animatronics. Especially Foxy and Bonnie,” you beamed.

“And for that, you’ve been doing such a good job so far. Such a smart girl, aren’t you?”

“If you say so, Mr. Afton,” you chuckled nervously, feeling your heart race erratically from his enticing compliment.

William waits for you as you pack up your things for the night to clock out and close the pizzeria with him. But deep down, he couldn’t control himself around you, his gaze growing darker from the morbid thought of physically digging through that pretty brain of yours and rewiring it like how he designs his killer animatronics and their broken little souls to obey him and only him. He had this gripping addiction for you, surrounding him with this madness to fucking chain up your innocence and corrupt you.

He couldn’t wait to reveal the beautiful surprise he has for you in his office.

You finally have your stuff, ready to go home for the night. “Alright, Mr. Afton. I’ll be on my way now. You have a goodnight!”

“Oh, wait—!” he suddenly sputtered, catching up to you before opening the door and escaping him. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you. I have something cool I need to show you in my office, if you don’t mind. It’s a nice surprise just for being my favorite intern here.”

The way you raised your brows and widened your eyes was so oddly adorable to him. “A surprise? Aw, you didn’t have to!”

“No, no. For your wonderful service, I felt inclined to reward you with something cool. You go on right ahead into my office and take a peak. Apologies for, uh, making you stay a little longer just as you were about to leave.”

You couldn’t help but oblige, falling right into William’s trap just like that. An innocent surprise, just how could you resist that from your boss that you were secretly crushing on? As you sauntered down the dimly lit checkered hallway into his office, you slowly open the door and noticed a white rabbit mask laying right in the middle of his mahogany desk.

It all felt so odd at first. As if something was amiss. Usually his computer and paperwork would be disorganized right on this desk, but his office was entirely cleaned out. Were you in the right room? You were sure that this was his office, the same office where he conducted your interview and got you started with your onboarding when you got hired. The same office that he invited you in for coffee and discussing about your career and pursuing your major. Frazzled with confusion and slightly perplexed of the changes and the way the air felt ever so slightly thicker and ominous, you couldn’t help but feel drawn into the mask.

There was a purple glow coming from the eyes of the rabbit mask, prompted to reach out to it and run your finger down the mask. Something about it was reeling you in, luring you into a trance that you dropped your backpack onto the floor. No matter what, your gaze couldn’t leave the mask as you stared into its eyes, utterly hypnotizing you. Then you slowly picked it up and turned it around, suddenly wincing in pain when you see the wicked purple glowing code, the cryptic symbols, and foreign arcane patterns.

Ensnared by the hypnotic patterns, it feels as if you completely lost your sense of self and became increasingly disconnected from this reality, transpiring around you. You inch the rabbit mask closer to you, the hypnotic and corrupt coding overwriting your willpower and invading you tremendously like a virus. And once the mask settles into your face, you were no longer yourself.

New user detected.

Pairing occipital transponder.

Stay calm.

This won’t hurt a bit.

You let out a yelp from a dull throb as you were helplessly consumed by this malicious coding, this malware literally brainwashing you like cables and wires attaching to your occipital lobe. At first your visual perception and your visuospatial processing were completely altered until the malware spread into other regions of your brain, specifically your hypothalamus ansa lenticularis and pallidum; where your sexual desire is mediated. It was like a vise tightening around your temples, each squeeze sending waves of sharp, pulsing pain through your fragile skull. Your coherence became fragmented. Your agony was also amplified. But these invasive commands from the virus seared into your consciousness, suffocating you with this tremendous amount of lust pooling in your brain.

William was standing by the doorframe again, watching you with a wicked smirk as you tried to rip the Vanny mask off your face, stumbling on some thick wires on the floor and falling when your balance and coordination faltered. You started screaming in terror, begging for somebody to help get this device off of you. But William couldn’t help but get turned on, and watching you scream and cry for mercy as the glitchtrap virus, the malware he programmed and created himself, corrupted you so beautifully to become his precious possession and own you forever.

When you managed to get back on your feet, William roughly grabs you by the neck from behind and snatches the mask off of you, forcing you in place when you tried to run. You panted heavily, your fear provoking the man wis=th a rush of arousal shooting inside him. He loved hearing your squeals and your cries, muffled by his large hands. It was just too precious; you, an unsullied young woman, playing right into his hands.

“Where do you think you’re going, my sweet?” he taunted in your ears, having to hold onto you tighter and suffocate you the more you squirmed. “You know that you’re under my control now, right? You can’t think for yourself anymore. You only obey.”

Your head still throbbed in pain from the virus spreading into your brain, trying to grasp onto your coherence and the ability to get ahold of yourself before it was too late. Fear, misery, and agony kept flinching inside you. You were in no position to defend yourself even if you had the physical strength to fight for your life. But the betrayal— the utter betrayal of your boss, Mr. William Afton, a man you admired for so long as your mentor, shattered you completely.

“God, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to have you like this,” his breathless voice fills your ears. “No one would ever take a smart woman like you seriously here. No one except me. Don’t you realize I was the only person that was fond of you? Nobody would even talk to you.”

With all your strength you tried to fight back and escape William’s grasp, but your struggle was to no avail. “Please— please,“ you choked out, “don’t do this— I swear, I won’t tell—“

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll kill you.” He slapped his hand over your mouth, subtly growling when he felt his cock grow harder from the fear and terror overtaking you that it brought you to tears. “You’re all mine to do with as I desire now, you understand? You’ll be my precious fucktoy from now on.”

How he loved hearing your muffled squeals, your pleads, and your cries for the first time, echoing off the walls of the pizzeria just like the rest of the kids he murdered right in this office not that long ago. But it was not his plan to kill you specifically tonight.

Because once that virus engraves in your brain permanently, you’ll belong to him forever.

There was still fear seizing within you that you started drowning in your own insanity. But soon it was invaded with an odd feeling of arousal— This painful grasp he had on you started to bloom an irresistible throbbing in your cunt, waking your body into a new sensation you’ve never endured in your life. As if the virus was rousing your soul, sedating you with pleasure, burning like acid. The way William was able to taunt you and torture you emotionally and physically had you succumbing to him, right at his command, taking every twisted thing he ever said and rewiring your brain to take it as a good thing.

“Aw, look at you. Did your sensitivity increase when I hold you like this?” The way he shamelessly cups your breasts, massaging them ever so gently had you trapped in this menacing ecstasy. A consuming, yet flagrant wrath that overflowed you. He violated your brain and you had no control of your coherence. You can’t decide what was right or wrong for you anymore; only William can do that.

Obsession. Obedience. Something so incessant, like this maddening hunger and desire, filled your body to the brim. You felt filthy. Nasty. Like a lost little rabbit caught in the woods by a big bad wolf, you were the prey. There was this erratic pounding in your cunt the more his hands roamed about your sensitive body— it was enough to make you limp like a toy for him to play with. He grabs your uniform and rips it open to expose your breasts, your nipples more tender as he plays with them.

“Look at you. It didn’t take long for the effects to kick in,” he chuckles. “Do you wanna know what’s happening to your body? My Glitchtrap virus not only brainwashed you, but rendered parts of your brain with aphrodisiac.”

Your eyes started to sulk, unable to speak properly but only whimper and moan softly from the way he toys with your body. “You’re gonna be my pretty, obedient little whore from now on,” the man continued. “Your memories will be wiped. You can’t make decisions for yourself anymore. You’re only useful to me when I fuck you in this office…”

“…and when I use you to kill more kids for me.”

He abruptly forces you down onto his desk, pressing your face against the wooden surface while taking your limp hands and bounding you behind your back with his belt so swiftly. Usually you’d be afraid. Usually you would be struck by terror from the way he handled you so aggressively in a helpless, futile state. But this virus, this aphrodisiac, rather, had you turned on so much that you couldn’t see straight. It felt like the inner whore in you awakened, and your poor aching cunt couldn’t stop furtively pounding and throbbing from how needy and slutty you really are for him.

His pants were undone while yours was pulled down just below your ass. William felt his cock stirring from the way you arched your back so perfectly for him, showing your ass off for him to toy with and slap. Your mind couldn’t stop screaming, internally begging for him to be inside your cunt already; and immediately he could tell how desperate you became kust from how you backed your ass up onto him to feel the tip of his cock. How you were so needy for friction, for the sensation, that a whine escapes your lips it urged him to slap your ass again.

“Use your words, pretty whore,” he snarked. “Before you were just my innocent little intern and now you’re my greedy little bitch who’s good for nothing but a fuck. Might have to fuck you extra hard just to see your limit with that virus.”

“Mm— please fuck me, Mr. Afton,” you slurred, almost drooling on his desk as he kept your head pinned down. “Please fuck me… like your pretty little whore.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming for you to say that, darling.”

This wild ecstasy was fulfilling William, like an insatiable hunger and frenzy slowly growing to its peak. He slides his cock deep into your soppy cunt, letting out a low grunt from the way your walls clenched so tight on him. You let out a loud cry; he was so big that it was too painful. But how merciful of him to let you adjust for awhile, right before he pulls out and slams into you again. It was so sloppy, so filthy, and so messy as he starts to pick up his speed, grunting with each thrust that your pain warred with pleasure.

No rational thought formed in your head; only unintelligent and pathetic moans from the way your boss was fucking you so hard and rough on his desk with your hands bound behind your back. Though you struggled to accommodate to his size, the virus was strong enough to make you succumb to the pleasure. His strokes were so rough, so savage, that you were already reduced to a wreck. You couldn’t get enough of this mind-numbing pleasure, it’s like you could see stars fly past your eyes. And not only did William bask in the beautiful sight of corrupting you like this— oh, he fucking loved the way your cunt felt. It was so perfect; molding it to the shape of his cock for him to use.

“Dripping all over my cock now, huh? Beg me to make you come. I need to hear you,” he taunts, his voice so terse it made your cunt throb involuntary.

“I— I wanna come all over your cock, sir,” you whined, eyes welling with blissful tears. “Please make me come. Use me all you want. I’m yours.”

“Fuck.” William threw his head back and gave a guttural groan, fucking into you much faster and that your body and mind spiked with pleasure. “I love when my pretty slut knows her place.”

Your turmoil has spiraled into shameless arousal, taking every harsh thrust of his cock hitting your g-spot so good that not only did it stimulate your cunt, but your brain. Electric sensations skyrocket through you before you could even register it all, your glossy eyes and face all ravished and wanton beyond comprehension. You loved it. You fucking enthralled in it. His rough hands on you, his savage strokes, his cruelty to you. How he managed to uncover your salacity, your forbidden desire of being bound and fucked this way like a nymphomaniac.

The thought of him brainwashing you as his free use fuckslut and his experiment, his prodigy just to kill innocent people for him… your brain became number and number, as if your orgasm completely sedated you. You let out a scream, clutching your fists for your dear life and squirming in his grip as you came so hard on his desk, your pussy erratically pounding and squeezing on his cock that it made William come inside you, pumping every load into you. You’ve lost the feeling in your thighs, trembling with every harsh smack of his hips against your ass as he fills you. Hard, deep thrusts that nudges right up against that spongey, sensitive spot inside. Your brain falls so foggy as you were at your limit, but you knew deep down that he wasn’t done with you.

William pulls out slow, eyes never leaving your pussy just to see it flexing over nothing like you were yearning for that feeling of fullness again, seeing ropes of his cum leaking out. This is all he wanted for so long— fucking you until you reach your limit and filling you with his cum all the way to the brim— all while brainwashing you to obey every command of his and doing most of his dirty work for him.

“I have been dreaming of having you like this the moment I hired you,” he spoke ominously, grabbing the mask just to abruptly shove it back onto your face as if he was downing you with a drug. “It was so fascinating to see; how I managed to control you by a virus I made. I can just taste the fear in you, and I turned that fear into pleasure…”

“…You belong to me now. I will never let you go.”

It’s a shame, how you’ll never be the same person you were before. How you’re reduced as nothing but William’s pet, having no control over your own life and using you for his entertainment, pleasure, and satisfaction. Sure, you’ll be able to live a normal life as if nothing happened; going back home to friends and family with no memory of what happened, until the corrupted emails with malware that William sends to you fucks with your brain, which was heavily prone to his psychological tortures and manipulations.

Some coworkers noticed. Some coworkers didn’t care. The difference in your personality, your attitude, your demeanor. How you’re exhibiting these vacant, yet glazed expressions at work, and the way how you spoke was either monotonous or overly compliant. But the moment William calls you into his office after hours, all that turmoil and agitation suddenly becomes your pleasure.

A few months later, missing children reports were spreading like wildfire. And though the police couldn’t find any evidence against William Afton or within every inch of the pizzeria, it was all you; hiding in your handmade white rabbit suit with patches and stitches all over, made of patterned fabrics of grey and black. How you easily lured kids into the parts and service room, murdering them either one by one or altogether in a group.

Vanny was now your new identity. Your new life.

A life you would not give anything else in the world for, as long as William rewards you.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

[RIDE ANNOUNCER] Please remain seated until the ride comes to a complete stop. Then collect your belongings, watch your head, and step carefully out the vehicle. The nearest exit will be on your left. On behalf of all of our crew, thanks for riding with us, and we hope you have a happy and memorable visit here at Horrorland!

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐎 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access. will be cross- posted on my ao3 soon.

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[tocomplainfriend]

It feels less like you want to address a real life problem to characters, but more like you want to have another of your characters you constantly baby and want others to fangirl over.

TW: Rape, SA, Racism, Stereotyping, Homophobia, Acephobia, Arophobia.

The representations of topics in media DOES affect real people.

Fiction can affect reality.

Let's start easy, Jaws. This goes back to Hazbin I promise.

"Since the release of Jaws in 1975, the world has witnessed a staggering decline of 71% in shark and ray populations, and around 100 million sharks are killed each year." (including multiple practices of mass hunting sharks in competition)

Both Steven Spielberg and the original writer Peter Benchley regret the movie and book. It's a big reason of the shark treatment, when it started by old fishermen worrying about shark biting people in the beaches they made money of.

Even if you aren't a shark killer yourself, a lot of things you believe of sharks are untrue myths that come from making sharks "evil" human killer animals. Sharks cannot smell blood from miles away, that's not even how water works, the particles of blood need to enter their nostrils. Sharks are not man eaters, they attack other prey animals before human. Shark attacks are extremely rare, even if they happen they are not justifiable to kill all sharks.

Sharks actually have personalities they can fit in, they are smart and recognize people and boats- and form positive relationships with people. They can even like getting pet by people.

Other level to represent other thing sin media that affects reality we can address Queer, representation as a topic.

I hope it is not a surprise for you... possible non-straight, non-cis person reading this. That the constant representation of gay man as kid predator is a problem. They used old commercial (PSA) to spread negative views of gay man. Media is used to spread messages and affect its viewer. This is, there are cartoons created by Jehovah witness (or similar religions) to spread their beliefs and teach to their children in an easy, digestible way.

Same with the amount of straight woman that went off to read shitty yaoi manga and fetishy gay wattpad stories, and went to sexualize and diminish queer men. Constantly making gay man's personality into bottom or top (uke and seme shit). I witness this irl, others have too.

Same with shitty men that view Lesbians as a porn machine for men, cause "monkey brain like woman, lesbian = two women". Which happens in general and adult media. All of these are EASY examples.

Another one which turns out many people don't think about. Having your representation of an AroAce character (on purpose or not) be the psychopath with no feelings. Associating the not being romantically or sexually to means you have no heart, to be abnormal, by then a psychopath. An abuse or serial killer.

Fiction does affect reality-

A racist film, 'Birth of the nation' Revived the KKK and let to all the discrimination, and the homicide of black people of centuries ahead.

-

Coming back around, how you treat the topic of SA, and r-pe- affects the real world. You would think someone who wrote that, had in mind on how that affects people in real life. Didn't you want to represent victims of SA/R-pe that are sex workers and male?

Reducing the r-pist, pimp, trafficker character to an air head to treat as silly is crazy to do. Specially as... oh idk... the creator? Both this and the tweet of the voice actor calling Val "Bubbles Coded" is so crazy. The character is also not deep enough by itself, it's pretty much Stupid and a R-pist sex trafficker. The tweet below Viv's fucking kills me too.

The fact Val is shown to be air head stupid doesn't delete he backed Angel (and by being a sex trafficker and a pimp, and him licking charlie that means he has multiple victims) into a corner and under his control. Too then abuse of him in many different ways. Manipulations are not only done by Super mastermind people, and representing it in such way diminished, affects people who have being manipulated and actually try to question if they have being or not. Manipulators can be normal, average people, they usually are not obvious. Even if Val is openly a shitty person that's really obvious, it doesn't detract from him being manipulative to people. The scene where Val threatens him in chains that is manipulation, his text messages are manipulation (even if you think it is too obvious to be successful).

How you represent SA/R-PE, and its perpetrators, do affect real life.

Going around and having your "serious R-pe episode", to then go in other episodes or the other series you are writing to make r-pe/sa jokes is terrible. For the person that directed the whole scene of poison to NOT be r-pe/sa victim (said by themselves) with a r-pe fetish with this character's in specific, to directed in the most graphic way possible is awful. To go around babying your r-pist character is crazy.

Hope you understand that this doesn't mean not treating any topic at all. Creators should be awere on how they treat topics and the scenarios they create with them, too. People and viewers need to also put their brain to understand the media they consume. But you can't always put all blame only on the viewers of a series, if media is messy is a fault of the media. You can criticize both.

You need to acknowledge Valentino is indeed a terrible person, You don't need to delete his actions or the weight of them.

I also just know that a lot of Val fans just like him to draw him in r-pe art and get their fetishized gay ship. Cause that's what they are into. You won't even do that with a woman, because you are into your fucked up fetishized gay porn from wattpad you never left behind.

If you like him, FUCK IT, just please take his abuse seriously. Don't default your entire usage, and view of the character to be 'uwufied' fandom stuff, please.

I hate how the topic has being treated, in and out of the show. I'm a victim, and I'm hurt by how these things are treated and knowing how it affects others. Even in things I haven't watched! Don't make the argument don't like it? Just don't watch it. The movies from the video of SA of men being a joke, many I haven't watch- that still affects over all. It's still a problem and it's disheartening.

Also have this:

[clownfcker69]

Jack/Damagedcoda6669 is a Groomer.

Im sure everyone has seen the tweets coming out about Dragy the then 13 year old exposing Jack's lies and the fact he had grooming tendencies, on twitter. I advice everyone who associates with Jack still to question their friendship immediately, if this is really who you want to support, someone who was preying upon children, maybe you need to take some time to reflect on your own morals.

Jack has stated in his coming back video that Dragy "had a fetish for being groomed" which, if you think about it, is DISGUSTING. Dragy was groomed, grooming is not a fetish, victims tend to fall into grooming because they are victims and vulnerable, it is NOT a fetish and i don't know where you even get the audacity to call it that.

Psychosis or whatever mental illness, doesn't excuse preying upon a child. You were not manipulated by a 13 year old, you were 16, you had the option to just stop the interaction with the minor and nothing bad would've happened after, but no. You decided to interact, and you decided to prey on them. Psychosis didn't make you a groomer. Being a groomer is what made you one.

STOP using mental illness as a crutch for everything, you're further demonizing every one of us who go through psychosis or other personality disorders or illnesses.

Jack has also blocked Dragy, which further proves that he isn't innocent and that he IS guilty. If you weren't a groomer, you would've came out with a statement giving your reasoning as to why and defend yourself. But you didn't. Instead you ran and hid like a coward. You are not a reliable person, you aren't to be trusted, you weren't trusted with pets either, you will not be trusted with children as well.

So my question to YOU jack is @damagedcoda6669 :

Why are you hiding so desperately? if Synni was capable of admitting that she was predating on children, and doing all things wrong, why aren't you doing it? what makes you think you can just run and cower? you are guilty. you are a danger. And the best course of action is for you to stop hiding and to tell people the truth, no lies, no deception, the raw truth that you had been hiding from everyone.