#it's a demented choice I know

[the-red-butterfly]

Rinse. Repeate.

Sam Winchester & Jessica Moore (Supernatural)

Here's my other (not so great) attempt at doing something spn interesting with color. It... could've been better definitely. If anyone's got color tips please drop them cause I sure need the help XD

.

Open for Commissions

[helluvapoison]

Nice To Eat You

[ii]

The Vees x Cannibal!Reader

warnings: drugs, suggestive, rosie slander, dark themes, violence, security shenanigans and, hello, cannibalism

heads up: if you didn’t know, the people of cannibal town are hellborn; born in hell, never lived on earth, never sinned! their life spans are unknown(?) but seem to age as a human would, unlike other demons

Cannibal town has been off limits to The Vees, courtesy of Vox, ever since the incident with you know who. Meeting you was a suspicious surprise for them. You were kicked out of said town by Rosie for giving cannibals a bad name. Can you fucking believe the irony!?

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Vox ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Suspicious might be an understatement

• For the longest time, Vox is unnerved by you for every other reason than your appetite. Anyone associated with Rosie is an adversary by proxy. If you take Alastor out of the picture, Rosie is still an Overlord and all Overlords will inevitably crumble to The Vees– even if they don’t know it yet

• There’s an expression for that though, isn’t there? Keep your enemies close. That’s exactly how Vox went about dealing with you

• Gives you a job as his security guard. Hell knows he needs one, what with the price of fame and all, those dirty fucking sinners that try and touch him wherever he goes

• It’s a slow development because neither of you initiate conversation

• Vox is beyond used to the rotating door of demons in and out of his life. He abandons the names of anyone that isn’t you, Velvette or Valentino (Angel Dust and Alastor he can’t forget against his will)

• Becoming attached to you while simultaneously waiting for the other shoe to drop is fucking awful. It feels it like a bug in his system, annoys him to the point his screen starts glitching one day

“Just what the fuck are you up to!? I know you’re with Rosie–”

You knew, on some level, Vox didn’t trust you all the way but it didn’t bother you because he hardly seems to trust anyone. So you cut him off with a mix of a snort and a scoff,

“Rosie? Rosie’s a cunt. She gave me the boot years ago, haven't seen her since.”

Involuntarily, he begins to smile, “Years, huh?”

• Trust is another slow endeavor. Now that Vox doubts your motives slightly less than before, he can silently appreciate the fact you do a damn good job of keeping demons away from him. Bonus: if you happen to take a chunk out of them for shits and giggles, blood never touches his pristine self

• “I believe I owe you an apology,”

“Am I going to get one?”

• In a way, sure, but you’ll be sorely disappointed if you thought it was with words. He invites you to dinner. From that moment until you arrive at the restaurant, he’s reveling in the constant state of shock you seem to be in

• Your eyebrows jump when the waiter nervously lifts the lid from your plate and reveals ribs. Real, demon ribs

“Surprised?” Vox asks rather smugly

“Somewhat,” You return his sly smirk, “Most can’t stomach my… indulgences.”

“I don’t have a stomach. I think I’ll be just fine.”

˚✧₊⁎ Velvette ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Vel doesn’t give two steaming shits about Rosie or her backwards, unflattering town so long as it doesn’t interfere with her enterprise. Vox’s grudges are his own. If The Vees got hellbent and demented over each other’s EOTD (Enemy Of The Day) nothing would get done!

• During a pathetic comment war on the her social, a few threats became too detailed for Vox’s liking

• A cannibal wasn’t his first choice– or second, or third– but you’d certainly scare off anyone trying to hurt his business partner!

• Velvette’s far from worried about being lunch when she meets you.

• “You’re my–? No. Absolutely not! I can’t be seen with this.” She gestures to all of you

“You’re not exactly making me drool either,” You mutter under your breath

• Judging by the looks of her partners’ faces, stunning Velvette to silence was impossible. Key word: was

• It didn’t last long and hasn’t stopped since

• She pulled out every trick in the book to get you to quit. She gave you a uniform to wear during your shifts, tossed fabrics at you until you turned into a living clothes rack, forced you to hold her phone during her live streams but criticized and berated the way you did

• For fucks sake, she even screamed at Vox to let her fire you!

• You didn’t need her to like you and that was as obvious as it was infuriating. She was Velvette! Everyone loved her! Having you around was like a black eye; literally bruising her ego and bad for business

• Or so she thought

• She made you stand in the shadows of her studio so you wouldn’t frighten anyone and ruin photoshoots with your “freaky face” she so eloquently put it.

• Velvette was mid fashion crisis, yelling at Joanne for the gazillionth time, when you approached from behind

“I’m taking my lunch.”

“Fucking fantastic! Here, have Joanne since she insists on being fucking useless!”

Playing along, you let a guttural growl rip from your throat, making Joanne jump high in the air.

She squeaked and shook her head vigorously, holding her hands in surrender, “I-I’ll be better, I swear!”

• Her candy cane eyes widened in delighted surprise. How had she been so blind to your potential usefulness!?

• Velvette could get high off the new game she created with you. It was like having a scary guard dog– only better dressed to aesthetics. Paparazzi didn’t dare touch her now, standing at a respectable distance that made her more unattainable and desirable than before

• Her attitude change makes her like-able to you too, she’s heaps more pleasant to be around now. You don’t mind doing the extra stuff that wasn’t in your contract like being a dress up doll, dealing with the pet names or escorting her to events. She knows and takes advantage of this instead of saying how she feels

• “You’re my arm candy now, dollface! You go where I go.”

“I hardly think I qualify as arm candy,” You mumble to her, overtly aware of how she holds you close to her

“If you’re fishing for compliments, fuck off to another pond. I don’t waste my free time with uggos,” She says seriously, abruptly smiling as a camera flashes in her direction, “Now get ready. Fans have been dying to get a picture with me lately and if anyone smudges this dress with their dirty fucking fingers, I want you to bite them off!”

“Anyone that touches you won’t have hands tomorrow,” You promise

• You swear she shivers upon hearing that

˚✧₊⁎ Valentino ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• The easiest by far to get along with. In a mortifying way

• Val is fairly accepting of all Hell’s creatures. It’s typically followed up by something sexual but, hey, you’re not in a position to complain, not when no one else in Hell would willingly sign up to work with a cannibal. Especially one outside the confines of Rosie’s civil town

• Rosie’s loss is his gain

• You would be lying if you said you weren’t expecting him to turn horror-struck but he barely blinks when you explain what you did to get exiled. Your savage methods intrigue him, a plethora of potentials just waiting to be explored. In fact, he goes a step further to praise you for being different

• “Hell would be deathly boring if everyone thought the same way, darling. That’s what makes you so… alluring.” He rolled his tongue with the last word, dragging it out and making it ring in your ears

• You’d been called many things in your afterlife, but never that

• You feel rather useless at the moth’s side. You were supposed to be protecting him but he could take care of himself just fine. Val was about the tallest in every room (if not the tallest) with guns hidden under his coat that he never used

• Later you’d understand he only reached for them as a last resort, when his head was unclouded by blood lust

• If you ever voiced your complaints, he’d be quick to reassure you that you make him look good. What powerful Overlord doesn’t have bodyguards? (Do. Not. Answer.)

• However the day does come when you prove your services have merit. On set of all places! A coked up Hellhound didn’t take kindly to Val’s directions, sending a demon wielding a boom mic flying towards him

• Valentino dodged the demon with ease, whipping around and aiming his pistol to put the dog down. Instead he saw you pushing the mutt’s face into the ground, his arm pinned at an angle. Your sharp teeth were bared at his throat, drool dampening his fur

• But you made no moves without Valentino’s say-so

• There’s a lot he could say about the scenario you provided him and how it made him feel– but he only calls your name, beckoning you back to his side

• Where you belong

• “You’re lucky I don’t like hair in my food,” You growl in the Hellhound’s ear before following after Val

• Valentino may be a mastermind of porn and sex but he knows the real way to a demon’s heart, it’s is the universal love language

• Unbothered by blood, he’ll sit pretty and poised on his loveseat while you tear into the meal he provided you. A thanks for a job well done

• “You’ll never go hungry now that you’re with me, monstruo,” The pet name is dripping with adoration, “I won’t waste you like that bitch did. Look at you, you’re already so special.”

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ i lost the request that went to this but i hope it reaches them. cannibal!reader got that rizz, huh?

[versupital]

my, my, what big teeth you have!

JJK HALLOWEEN! tojixreader

to sum it up ❥ your infuriating roommate has a freaky little secret, and it comes to light when you walk in on him cleaning blood off your apartment floor - coincidentally, after an oversized wolf had just saved your life.

“I know his claws come out when he’s close” 🥴

song inspo: kno one - kevin gates

CONTENT: gvn violence, and they were roommates, paranormal!toji, modernau, mean af toji, werewolf!toji, masochism, pain kinks, degrading/degrading nicknames, overstim, afab!reader, enemies to luvrs, creampie, male receiving, thigh riding, banter.

word count. 9k

@cafekitsune divider <3

“Fuck, kiss me, Toji.”

You feel your hands tangling themselves in the material of his shirt. It’s almost like you are being controlled by strings, like you’re out of your body watching your limbs move on their own accord.

“D’ya even know what y’sayin’ right now, brat?” Toji questions, raising an eyebrow at you, his eyes watching your hands travel over his body.

“Did I fucking stutter?” you grit, softly hitting the large man on his solid chest.

“‘M not gonna turn y’down, but you better remember this tomorrow,” he snaps. “I don’t wanna hear no shit about me taking advantage of you, lil’ girl.”

You roll your eyes. “I will, now quit being a pussy.”

“Yeah, okay,” Toji grunts before gripping you harshly by your throat.

His palm nearly crushes your windpipe as he squeezes the pulse on the sides of your neck. Now with his hand on you, he can and does yank your face towards him. He starts off by biting your bottom lip, pulling a noise from you, which he laughs at.

“Needy bitch,” he says with a demented smile. “Haven’t even done nothin’ yet.”

You lift your hand up to hit him again but he takes his free hand and slams yours back onto your lap. At the moment you gasp, he plunges his lips onto yours. A deep, rough kiss that says he doesn’t want to treat you nicely or make you feel good - he just wants to use you.

But luckily for him, the feeling is mutual.

You groan in frustrated lust, kissing him back harshly for a moment before he begins to move his kisses across your cheek and along the shape of your jaw.

You allow him to do so, not that you have a choice with his hold on your throat.

He loosens his grip and slides his hand down a ways to give himself better access to kiss your neck.

You feel him grunt as he licks the sensitive skin, which makes you whimper, and then he immediately nicks you with his teeth. You let out a soft chirp before he silences you with another wet kiss.

“Well, that was fun,” he says against your mouth, smiling wickedly as he breaks away from you and drops his hand. “But let’s not get carried away, puss.”

You scoff at him before standing up furiously.

“Fucking cockblock,” you growl at him, before storming off to your bedroom, where you help yourself pop the bubble of fire that had grown in your stomach.

You make sure to moan loudly to let him know exactly what he’s missing, and he appreciates it, as he stands outside of your bedroom door and strokes himself to the beautiful noise.

As you cum, there’s only one sentence burning in your mind: You hate Toji Fushiguro.

SIX MONTHS LATER. HALLOWEEN NIGHT.

“Mother Gothel is the victim in Tangled.”

Gojo, your friend, drives you and the lot of your friends down a dark, winding hill. You're on the way home from a party and he's the only one sober; unfortunately this means he’s very obnoxiously himself and trying to push your buttons.

"Here we go," groans Shoko in the back seat.

"Satoru," a voice scolds - Geto. "Please shut the fuck up."

"I will not until you all agree with me," he holds up a long finger, matter-of-factly. "She just wanted her youth. I mean, who doesn't? Then here come these greedy sons of bitches who dig up the WHOLE flower - like, they couldn't just take one petal?"

You groan from the passenger seat and rub your temples. "She tried to kill like, four people throughout the span of the movie, Satoru."

"Yes, because they made her into a villain!" he argues passionately. "She never would've-"

And that's where it ended. The conversation, the car ride and the last normal night of your life.

Nothing but a bright beam of headlights, Satoru shouting as he attempts to swerve, brakes screeching, and then the clang of metal as you drive straight into the guard rail, all four of your bodies lurching forward.

"FUCK!" you distantly hear Satoru shouting, though your ears are ringing to the point you don’t even hear yourself crying out.

The car comes to a jolting stop, and the headlights outside do as well, shining bright in the faces of everyone in Satoru's car.

You glance around and see that everyone is okay, just a little shaken and disturbed. That’s when you jump to get out of the car - nerves aflame.

���Y/N, you could be injured, you shouldn't-”

Geto's voice grows distant as you storm around the mangled car, and your eyes land on a tall blonde and a shocked ginger boy.

"You stupid fucking bitches," you shout, pointing an accusatory finger in the air. "How the fuck didn't you see us?"

A door slams as Gojo gets out of the car to join you, appearing unscathed, except for the fact that his face is still and he has gone quiet; like cracks under ice.

"No, why the fuck were you driving in the middle of the road?" the blonde accuses back, stepping closer, but ultimately maintaining her distance.

"I was not, it was a curve," Gojo grits out. "There's literal signs that tell you to be aware of the curve, because you cannot see what is coming. Your stupid is showing."

"You-"

"It's the middle of the fucking night," you cut her off. "Don't you know you could've sent us flying off the mountain and killed us all?"

The blonde smiles, “You think I have a problem killing people, bitch?”

You lift your hand, balled in a fist, ready to approach the girl, but her hand is already at her hip. Everything happens in slow motion: you notice the black piece in her hand as she raises it into the air. You see her finger pull the trigger. You hear yourself, and your friends screaming. You see a flash of black and white.

The gun goes off, a sharp silver bullet flying out of its barrel. Several moments pass and the air grows quiet. The screams are gone and so is the sound of gunshots.

You take your hands off of your face and look around slowly. You're sure your adrenaline cannot be that high, but you know you can’t feel the gunshot wound.

Then, when you glance up, you see a wolf - not just any wolf, but one that’s pushing the size of Gojo's car.

Gojo begins shrieking and so does everyone else, while you are staring in silent astonishment.

The wolf makes a huffing noise and then you notice it nearly fall to the asphalt, before shaking its head and charging at the girl with the gun.

Her screams of terror pierce the air as she tries to pull the trigger again, but her gun jams.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," she shouts to her compadre, and the two of them scramble into the car, before pulling off while nearly running over you and the wolf.

“Well I'm glad your car still fucking works!” Gojo shouts after them, leaning against what is left of his vehicle.

You rub your eyes, trying to allow your brain to catch up to the series of events that have just taken place. When you do, you see that the wolf has disappeared. Not so much as a trace of fur or a drop of blood.

But... you can't help but wonder what kind of cosmic joke it was that this wolf had just blocked you from a bullet? Almost like it had a conscious, like it knew who you were.

Your body shakes with fear, and your adrenaline sinks you into painful withdrawals.

Geto and Shoko get out of the car and run to both you and Gojo; Shoko taking you into her arms and Geto patting Gojo on the shoulders, asking him if he is okay.

Minutes later, you hear sirens and see flashing lights. You vaguely recall being lifted into an ambulance, but after that, the next memory you have is waking up in a hospital bed, where you are told you have a minor concussion. Then, you get discharged at six in the morning.

A horrible fucking night that had been. Though you passed out for several hours in the hospital, you feel like you've gotten absolutely no sleep. Your body aches and your bed calls your name.

As you clamber in the front door, you realize that you might have disturbed your grouchy roommate. But surely, once you explain to him the hell you've just went through, he will take it easy on you.

Not. You can’t see that man having sympathy at all.

When you finally make it inside, you hardly expect to find what greets you.

Your roommate is very much awake; dark locks shadowing his face, on all fours in nothing but bottoms - dirty, ripped sweatpants. He seems to be covered in filth himself, black spots on his back and arms, mixed with sweat. You grimace.

"Toji?” you say, clearing your throat to get his attention.

He glances over his shoulder at you, but doesn’t stop what he is doing. “Morning.”

You realize now that he is on the floor because he is scrubbing it; his hands hold a soapy sponge that is stained red.

"Why are you cleaning at seven in the fucking morning?" you question, as he hardly cleans in general.

"Trying to keep our security deposit," he grunts, digging his fingernails harder into the wood. You suspect he is not so much scrubbing harder as he is trying to hide his frustration with you.

“Okay…” you say, suspicious. “Did you spill something or what?”

"Spill," he repeats; a low, condescending chuckle punctuating it. "Something like that."

You blink at him. There's something you must be missing, or he wouldn't be acting like that. Or maybe he would. He always talks to you like he thinks you are stupid.

"Anyway, how ya' feelin'?" he asks, redirecting the subject while lifting the sponge to examine the floor - which now that he has moved, you can see is covered in red streaks; some darker than others, like they are older.

"I..." you tilt your head to the side. "I feel fine. Why?"

"That crash looked pretty bad," Toji adds, brows furrowing at the spot that remains on the wood. "Took you a while to come home. Thought you died."

You stare at him, surprised he cared. "Well, you certainly didn’t bother to double check. How'd you know about the crash?"

He turns to look up at you then. "Contrary to popular belief, I do watch the news. I like to see what dumbass things my lovely fellow citizens have gotten themselves into from day to day."

"We were on the news?" you put a hand to your head. You don't remember anything between the wolf and being put in the bright ambulance, not newscasters or anything; but you’re sure Satoru had been eating up the chance to be on live TV.

"Listen, if you're going to stand there and keep asking me stupid questions, at least make yourself nice to look at." He rolls his eyes. "You look like you were hit by the car.”

You ball your fists in frustration, "Oh, you have room to talk. You look like shit yourself.” You feel your body tingle with anger. “Since you think I’m only asking stupid questions, riddle me this: why the hell are you cleaning blood off of my floor, Fushiguro?"

Toji suddenly freezes before he twists his body and pushes himself up to stand. You are tall, but he still towers over you, head nearly rubbing against the hallway ceiling.

You do not cower; instead, your eyes rake his bare torso, unwillingly, and you dig your nails into your palms at the embarrassment you feel. You always gawk at him against your will, daydreaming, ever since that night…

But your eyes come to rest on the large, maroon-crusted gape in Toji's rib cage, and your eyebrows raise to your hairline.

"A man saves your fucking life, and you're worried about a little blood," he gruffs, squeezing the sponge in his hand so tightly that a mix of blood and water is now spilling back onto the hardwood.

He doesn't seem to notice.

“Saved my life?” you ask with a dopey blink, before realizing what he means and shrinking away from him. “You… you were the- the-”

"The, the, the," Toji mocks with his tongue out, tilting his head from side to side tauntingly. "Yes, stupid girl. I took that bullet for you. A silver bullet, might I add, which is why it's taking me forever to fucking heal."

He rubs his hand over the spot and winces. “I bled for hours before my strength started to come back. Didn’t get the chance to shower, either.” He grimaces but you are hardly worried about his hygiene now.

You gulp instead. Your brain flashes memories: the sheer size of the animal as it jumped in front of you, the way it almost fell to the ground after withstanding the bullet, the screams of terror. Your brain goes stark with the overwhelming amount of questions you now have. How did he know where you were? Why the fuck is he able to turn into a wolf?

"You look like a doe in headlights," Toji quips. "Surprised that lycanthropes actually exist? That you've been living with one.” He laughs dryly. “Utter filth to you now, aren't I?"

"N-No," you shake your head quickly, unaware of what exactly you want to say. Normally you would make a quip that he’s always been utter filth to you but the words die in your throat; this is no joking matter.

Toji is mean to you, but he's never hurt you. You always thought he just treated you that way so you wouldn't try to be his friend. It had definitely worked, but now you know the truth behind his actions.

"Right," Toji scoffs. "Not even a thank you, huh?"

"I'm really sorry," you shake your head, still trying to process it. He’s a werewolf. A fucking. Werewolf.

Your head has been running since the moment of the crash. Everything’s happening so fast. What exactly are you supposed to say? Every time you thought you'd gotten a grip on your new reality, something else happens. It had not even been twelve hours since the start of it all.

"How did you know where I was?" you start, trying to pick a single point to build from.

"I Marked you," he shrugs, as if that is not only common knowledge, but also not a big deal.

"What?" you spit.

"Do you recall several months ago when you came home very drunk and we..." his fingers dance in the air as he searches for the word. "I kissed your neck?” He pauses and you nod slowly. “Well, y’were probably too fucked to remember, but I grazed you with my teeth. Not enough to Turn you, but just to claim you, so that I always know where to find you.”

"What?” you repeat the same astonished word as it is the only one that truly conveys your emotions. “You did that so you can fucking track me?”

"So I could protect you," he grunts. "But you're such a bitch. Should've just let you get shot and killed."

He rolls his eyes and bulldozes past you, heading to the kitchen. You follow him. He lets out an exasperated breath, but you could care less that you are annoying him.

"Why would you want to protect me?" you question. "You hate me."

"Exactly," he nods. "I hate you so much that I don't want anyone to be responsible for your harm, or death, except f’me."

You hear the sarcasm in his voice and it makes your blood simmer under your skin.

"You're such a dick," you scream. "You couldn't even ask me before you put some stupid spell on me?"

"It's not a spell," Toji corrects. "And you'd have never gone for it if I'd asked. Sorry, your highness."

"You are so..." you run your fingertips into your roots and scream again.

"Shut up before I give you an actual reason to scream." Toji places the sponge down in the sink and washes his hands before tapping his wet fingers on the countertop.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" you hiss. "You just go on and on about stupid fucking nonsense. First you tell me you're a fucking werewolf, or whatever you are, I don't know! Then you say you put this possession bullshit on me, and now I'm not even allowed to express my fucking feelings about all of it."

Toji laughs. He actually fucking laughs, a piercing crack that makes even the shadows recoil in fear.

You’d been standing between the kitchen and the front door. A whip of motion blur and your spine is hitting the wood of the door. You gasp harshly, a vein on your neck beginning to throb.

Toji tilts his head to the side and laughs at your speechlessness.

“Pathetic human girl,” he snaps. “What would you do without me watching over you?”

You gasp and look up at him, digging your nails into his arms, but it doesn’t even make him flinch.

“I would be just fucking fine,” you spit.

“You sure about that?” he hums. “Don’t know if you’d survive the ghouls and beasts that want your guts for dinner, y’know.” He clicks his tongue before wetting his scarred lips. “Eh, who am I kidding? I don’t give a shit - jus’ like the way my Mark looks on you.”

Your neck throbs again, a searing pain that feels like someone is putting out a cigarette on your skin.

You tilt your head to the side. “Do you? Or do you just like having a permanent reminder of kissing my neck?”

Toji’s body shakes as he laughs at you again. “I could kiss your neck again if I wanted, stupid girl.” He leans forward and huffs out warm breath over the hot Mark on your neck. “Y’know you want me to.”

Your voice gets caught in your throat. You hate this sack of shit so bad. So then, why are you purposely arching your back a bit so that your torso and stomach rubs against his?

“Not if you’re going to keep putting spells on me,” you grit defiantly.

“Brat, it’s not a spell,” he groans. “For fuck’s sake, I grow two times my normal size and gain an obsession with the moon. I don’t practice fuckin’ hoodoo.”

You roll your eyes. “Then you must want me to yourself. I mean, do all lycanthropes have the ability to Mark someone? Does it make you jealous to know someone else could have Marked me?”

Toji is silent for a moment, his eyes avoiding your face. “Fuck no. I told you it’s for your protection.”

“I think you’re lying,” you say tauntingly, lifting your knee up to gently brush the front of his sweatpants. “Oh, is that a gun? Or y’just happy to s-”

“Shut up, brat,” Toji hounds, voice now a few octaves deeper, body twitching slightly at your sudden contact.

You smile, feeling accomplished in knowing you’re getting to him.

“So Toji does feel other things besides anger,” you hum. “Jealousy, possession…”

“Hatred,” he snaps. “I fucking hate you. Hate, hate, hate. Don’t you get that? All I think about is how fucking much I hate seeing your stupid human face.”

You click your tongue, “All you think about is me? Cute.”

He growls again and then backs his body away from you, closing his eyes and shaking his head, dark locks falling on his forehead.

"I need a shower," he says off subject. "You do too. You smell like shit."

You narrow your eyes before dropping your hands from his arms, realizing they'd been unnecessarily lingering. "Are you implying you want me to shower with you?"

"Not even close," Toji turns his back and begins down the hallway. "Don't project your own desires onto me."

And then, he disappears.

When you go to take your shower, you do some pondering under the hot water as it washes away the memories of the last day.

Toji, a werewolf. That would explain his inhuman, sculpted body and height. You wonder, how long has he been one? Is he immortal?

You think of him, in his full wolf form. He had been huge. You wonder if he ever partially transforms and walks around as a human with fuzzy ears and claws. Your stomach tightens at the thought of that, and you smack your head under the water. Don’t be a weirdo, you tell yourself.

You’ve never denied yourself of thinking about Toji. He’s a beautiful man, physically, with his big, squishy pecs and tuggable hair and full lips. You just can not stay turned on for long enough when you remember how awful he is to you.

Except right now, that seems to be turning you on more. He’d saved your life, even if he is mean to you every other day. So no matter what he says, he doesn’t want you to die. Well, that much is obvious with his silly protection situation. Your neck throbs again and you think back to the night he kissed it.

You can barely remember the feeling of his lips ghosting over the skin, before he slid his soft tongue over a vein and then politely sunk his teeth into the flesh. Like a recovering addict tasting a hint of a drug just to get them by.

Your hands have stopped scrubbing your body with your loofa. Now you are hugging yourself and gliding your hands down your sides, imagining Toji’s much bigger ones in their place as he drags that tongue down your whole body, Marking you all over if that’s what he wanted.

You open your eyes and gasp. Snap the fuck out of it.

You hate Toji Fushiguro, remember?

Well, of course you do. You hate the way you don’t hate him, not even a little, not even at all.

Hours pass and you have both successfully showered. Toji emerges from his room, late that night, rubbing his eyes as you sit on the couch and watch an evening show. The lights in the living room are quite dim; plus, it’s dark outside, so the shadows on his face make him more intimidating than usual.

“So, y’smell any better now?” Toji quips, joining you on the far end of the couch, spreading his legs so violently wide that you have to cross your own so as to not touch him.

“I showered hours ago,” you groan. “If you weren’t locked up in your room you’d know that.”

“Well, I am nocturnal,” he says with a yawn. “I was up entirely too early this morning. You know, after saving-”

“My life, I get it.” You roll your eyes. “Are you ever going to let it go?”

“Not ‘till I get some proper gratitude,” he declares, tapping his chin. “Now the price has gone up, I’ll need something better than ‘thank you, big daddy.’”

You feel your eyes widen. “I would never fucking call you that. Ew.”

Toji chuckles. “A shame, really.” He leans back farther into the couch and angles his body to face you. “So, are y’ready to discuss the subject of payment?”

“Yep,” you nod. “How about I doctor your wound and agree to cover the security deposit?”

Toji’s mouth twitches before he slowly lifts up his sweatshirt, revealing that the bullethole in his chiseled ribs is now faded to a slight pink scar.

“Too late, and frankly - they’ll have to catch us first if they want that deposit,” he shrugs. “Keep tryin’, brat.”

You cross your arms. “What d’you want? An expensive dinner?”

“I see, y’tryin to call me broke,” he smiles but it’s laced with venom. “I’m going to give you one more try before I show you what I want. Then it’s fuck all of this useless chitchat.”

You blink, a little afraid. He’s not looking at you any differently than usual but your stomach still turns. Now that you know his secret, things have changed. You already knew you could never take him in a fight but - now you know for sure that he can kill you.

“Um…” you scratch your arm and glance at the floor, “I really don’t know, Toji. What the hell do you want?”

His hand bolts out at the speed of light. He grins at you and his canines have suddenly gotten dangerously sharp; his eyes also glow a bit in the slight warm light.

You gasp as he pulls you closer to him by your shirt collar.

“Always runnin’ that stupid mouth of yours,” he grits. “Unfortunately, it’s gonna be kinda hard to speak with dick in your throat.”

You blink up at him, the awful way he’s degrading you sending heat signals between your legs. You hate that he has this effect on you; God, you hate him so much.

“Ah, you think I can’t still talk shit with my lips wrapped around your little guy?” you tease, gripping his wrist with one of your hands, digging your knees into the couch for stability.

“Don’t know, wanna find out?” Toji questions, meeting his face halfway to yours. “Don’t you wanna show me how grateful you are, little brat?”

You bite your lip and raise your chin defiantly. “I don’t think sucking you off’s gonna be enough,” you purr. “But if that’s all you want…”

Toji’s glowing eyes darken back down to normal, but his teeth remain sharp and his thick arm outstretched in front of you has bulging veins that hadn’t been there before.

“Needy brat,” he cocks his head to the side. “Y’can repay me however you want, right after I get my end of the conditions.”

You nod. “Deal.”

“Now,” he snaps his fingers with his free hand and pulls your shirt until you are forced to be on all fours next to him. “On the floor, brat.”

You gulp suddenly as he lets you go and you slide onto the hardwood, knowing your poor knees are going to be exhausted by the time you are finished.

You sit on your legs and wiggle your way between Toji’s knees.

As you adjust yourself, he pulls his sweatshirt over his head, and you have to swallow the most feral growl that threatens to erupt from within you.

Like always, you gawk at him, but this time you make it as obvious as possible. Your little cunt is pulsing with desire now, as you take in the way he’s looking down at you over his lap.

His lip curls as he notices your stare, “I took that off so you can stare at the reminder of why you’re doing this.” He points to the scar on his ribs. “I don’t save human lives for nothing, brat. You better show me exactly why you’re so special, why you deserved it.”

You blink up at him, mindless. His eyes are mesmerizing you, more than usual. He’s so alluring, his skin glistens under the light. You aren’t sure why you hadn’t given into your desires before now.

You slide your palms over the tops of his thighs. He leans back on the couch and stretches his arms across the back, watching you in silence, the only noise being the tv behind you. Your hands make it slowly to the waistband on his pajama pants, before you tug it down just enough to see his v-line and the little bit of hair that resides on his groin.

“Aht - we don’t have time for all that teasing shit,” Toji grunts, but he must not think you can see the tips of his fingers dug into the couch. He likes it.

You tilt your head to the side and continue to pull the band slowly - while Toji slightly rolls his hips up to help you get it down.

“Not even wearing underwear?” you gape, realizing there is not a second band under his pajamas.

He’s still staring at you but now he’s got an arrogant smirk. “I’m a man who likes to plan ahead.”

You roll your eyes, trying not to let him annoy you when you feel so incredibly good. At last, you yank down the band, and what pops out makes your stomach recoil in fear.

His cock effortlessly jerks up and rests against his stomach, almost halfway up his abdomen, barely able to hold itself up due to it’s obvious heft. The tip is already wet, dribbling clear precum, like icing on a cinnamon roll. The length is so perfectly peach with a beautiful pink-brown head. It seems to call to you like a high class delicacy.

Toji’s laugh cracks you out of your trance.

“Y’look so cockdrunk, babygirl,” he coos, taking his hand and grabbing himself at the base and holding it up for you.

You adjust yourself, as you now cannot sit on your legs because of how long his cock is. You have to get all the way up on your knees, where you plant your hands back on his thighs and lean forward.

“It’s so…” Big. Pretty. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Toji shakes his cock in his hand, “I believe in you. Just take it slow.”

Is he being… patient? Gentle even? You don’t like this, not one bit. You want him to tell you to shut up and put it in your throat.

“Okay, put it in,” you say, parting your lips wide with the tip of your tongue sticking out - ready to slide it underneath his cock.

Toji obeys instantly, taking his free hand and pushing your head down to meet his the crown of his dick. When your mouth makes contact, it doesn’t take more than a third of his cock before your mouth feels full.

You furrow your eyebrows and look up at Toji, who’s took his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Slow,” he reminds, entangling his fingers in your hair but not applying any more pressure to your head, allowing you to take the length at your own pace.

You close your eyes and dig your nails into his thighs before forcing as much of the cock down your throat as you can, pushing saliva out onto the skin and closing your lips on it.

Your tongue has extended and is now flicking dangerously on the underside of his dick, as you now feel you’re in a position to start bobbing your head.

You do so, slowly, slurping noises blocking out your tv show, spit dripping all around the veins on his cock before pooling on his groin. Toji’s head has fallen back into the couch, he’s let go of his cock now and keeps the other hand in your hair.

“Don’t fucking stop, baby,” he says.

Your pussy practically purrs upon hearing a name as soft as ‘baby.’ Sure, he had called you babygirl but it was sarcasm. As much as you enjoy being called a brat, you know you’ll need to hear that baby name more often.

You continue to slide your head up and down, jaw parted, tongue gliding under. You bring your mouth back to his tip and swirl with your tongue, lathering more saliva, watching as it foams and drips down his cock. You take your hand and, using your spit as lube, stroke the bottom half that you just can’t fit in your mouth.

“Fuck, who taught you this, ma?” Toji groans from above, thighs squeezing your sides. You swear you can even feel them shaking a bit.

“Mmh-” is all you’re able to respond, putting your poor wrist to work to make up for your tired jaw. You don’t care, you like the pain.

You bring your mouth back to the top and release him with a pop, a glittery string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock, the entire lower half of your chin coated in drool.

Toji lifts his head up to look down at you. “Knew you were special, little freak. It’s not everyday I get brain like this.” He grunts and shifts under you, as your hand is still slowly stroking his veiny length.

You giggle before you reply, “It’s kinda funny to see you squirming like this. Toji, who always says he’s not anyone’s bitch.”

“Mm, and I’m not yours, either,” he hums softly, before sitting up quickly and yanking your head back with the grip he still holds on you, forcing you to look up at him.

His eyes search your red, wet face for a moment before he leans down and opens his mouth, spitting out a fat glop of saliva onto his own cock. Before it can even start to slide down, he’s shoving your face down onto the length nearly three-thirds of the way.

You make a noise of surprise and your hands shoot out to balance yourself. You shut your eyes tight as you try to keep your teeth bared back so as to not graze him as he uses the roots in your hair to fuck your face at his own rough pace.

“Damn, who’s who’s bitch now?” he cracks, jerking his hips up to meet your throat halfway, and now the tip is hitting the back of your mouth with a painful force. “Oh wait, I guess you can’t respond, huh? What did I tell you?” He laughs above you, voice deep, “Can’t talk shit with a mouth full of cock, lil’ brat.”

You groan around him and smack his bare thigh before you dig your nails into the skin. He hisses and lets out a deep, groveling moan that sounds animalistic.

You look up through your lashes and see his form shifting; his face is literally twisting in pleasure but also, his hair seems to be growing and shrinking, his teeth go from fitting in his mouth to his canines growing long and poking out from his upper lip, his ears go from human and round, to an awful, sharp point.

You realize he’s fighting back the urge to change, you’re doing him that good. Your eyes roll back in pleasure and you keep your nails in his thigh, leaving harsh red curves all over the hairy skin.

“Just like that, baby,” he says, nearly tumbling over his words, “‘M gonna fill your pretty throat, yeah? Want you to drink me up, then I’ll be satisfied. F-fuck.”

You furrow your eyebrows and try to lock in your focus so that your body or jaw doesn’t decide to give out right as he’s going to cum. You let him continue to use your throat for the pace he thinks feels best, humming around him to amplify his pleasure.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, but you open your eyes again to see that he has dropped one of his hands on the couch. You stare in horror as his nails shoot out: sharp and pointy and black, nearly ripping the fabric on the seat. He claws at the material right as you feel his cock twitching, veins pulsing harder.

His load comes quick, and harsh. He pulls himself out of your mouth just enough that you can feel the hot, salty spurts crash against your throat, filling your mouth to the point you have to yank his cock out in order to breathe.

You gasp and swallow on instinct, and Toji watches with glistening eyes.

His teeth, hands and ears have returned to normal. You start to feel your head throb with lightheadedness and wonder if you’d been imagining all of it.

“My, my, what a fantastic throat you have, my dear,” he coos, chest rising and falling as he, too, tries to regain his breath.

“All the better to suck you with, sir.” You grin and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand before rising to stand, stretching your legs and relieving your poor knees.

Toji stares up at you now, face angled down, eyes watching you through his lashes. “So, brat, do you feel satisfied with your payment?” he questions, tone a little lilted.

You tap your chin, pretending you don’t notice him sitting up and putting his hands on your waist, before parting your legs with his knee and sliding you over his thigh. You pretend you don’t feel your cunt throb whorishly in response to his touch.

“No,” you say curtly. “I mean, a man saves my life and all he gets is some head?”

“Y’read my mind, puss,” he grovels, hand coming down in a harsh crack on your hip. “I think, just for extra credit, you can slide me a lil’ something extra.”

You gasp in surprise when you feel his heavy palm hit your skin, then bite your lip as the sensation overcomes your entire lower half.

“What’s that?” you question.

He answers by snapping his fingers. You feel cold air hit your bottom and, looking down in horror you realize, oh no! your shorts and panties are missing.

“I-I thought you said you didn’t have magical techniques,” you shriek, shyly moving your hand to cover your bare cunt, as it begins to immediately drip down your legs without a protective barrier.

“Well, there could be two explanations,” he says apathetically, ripping your hand away from your groin and staring at you with an expression that dares you to put it back. “Either my technique only applies to you, because I Marked you. Or, I was lying about the number of explanations.”

He grins devilishly, and you realize you deeply miss the way his sharp teeth look poking out of his mouth. You try to shake the thought, but each time you look at him, you expect to see them.

You swallow thickly, “So what? You can control me, too?”

Toji’s mouth twitches but he does not deny it. “Why? Do you not want to do this?”

You realize, you kind of implied that Toji might have coerced you into doing this - but that isn’t what you meant.

“No, I do, I do,” you answer, a little too eagerly, and Toji’s face curls.

“Sooo neeeeedy,” he drags out, before plopping your bare cunt down on his thigh, making you shriek. “Well, I think what I want now is your pretty cream all over my thigh, ma, then after that, your pretty cream on my cock.” He digs his fingers into your hips as you have been rendered speechless, and drags you forward on his thigh, soft skin rubbing your aching little clit.

A small, ‘oh’ escapes your lips and your hands fly up to his hefty shoulders, gripping onto them.

“Yeah, just hold onto me, baby,” he grunts, sliding you back towards his knee and then up again.

“N-No,” you say, lip quivering.

Toji cocks his head to the side, nearly perking his ears.

“C-Call me those m-mean things,” you stutter, feeling the blood rush to your face as each word comes out.

“Oh, you don’t like when I call you baby?” Toji taunts. “You like being called a needy bitch, hm?”

You whine in response to him, instead of saying it out loud, but that’s not enough for him.

“What did I say?” he grits, smacking your thigh harshly after he stops grinding your hips onto his own.

“Y-Yes,” you yelp, “yes, I like it, Toji.” There’s something else you like, too. “H-Hit me, again.”

“Oh?” he hums tentatively, rubbing your poor cunt to shreds on his thigh again, all the while smacking one of yours - a red welp forming slowly. “Little slut of mine likes being bullied.”

He cracks a laugh, “Bet you were drippin’ in y’panties every time I yelled at you. Sick, y’know that?”

“Shut up,” you growl, yanking on his hair.

His eyelids flutter in pleasure, “Make me, brat.”

You know that you can’t, you absolutely have no power over this man who is double your size. Besides, you need him to keep talking, running that big fucking mouth, so you can cum all over him.

“That’s what I thought,” he purrs, smiling at you, before cracking a hard smack across your thigh again. Then, he shoves his fingers around your throat, gripping mercilessly as he pulls your breath from you. “Gonna cum already?”

You amateurly nod your head against his grip, which comes to be a mistake, as Toji uses the force of his other hand to keep your hips from moving any longer on his thigh.

You try to gasp but he grips your windpipe harder and drags you towards his face, torso pressed delicately against his larger one.

“Mm, nah, not on my watch,” he grits, pressing his thick lips against yours.

You’re so easily, pathetically distracted yet still, you whine as your orgasm is being denied, and Toji makes it even harder to ignore as his lips and tongue slide over yours.

You can feel the sharp points of his teeth growing, then he uses them to bite down on your bottom lip, forcing you to keep your face on his as he drops his hand from your throat.

Now, with both hands back on your hips, he starts pushing them over his leg once more.

You groan a thank you into his mouth as your throbbing clit gets fucked, leaving a slimey trail all over Toji. You use your feet planted on the ground to swirl your hips in a way that feels good, and now your stomach is tightening.

You huff and whimper into Toji’s mouth and at the very moment you think you’re about to reach your peak, Toji lifts your hips off of him and releases his teeth from your mouth.

“T-Toji!” you groan in frustration. “Why?”

“Y’didn’t think I’d give it to you that easily, huh, puss?” He flashes his teeth at you and you notice his hair has grown long again, eyes ablaze. He’s doing the shit where he only partially shifts again, but you are quite frankly more into it than you will ever say aloud.

“Yes, I did,” you say. “After my spectacular performance on my knees.”

“Yeah? Well, that was just to repay me for your life,” Toji says, examining his nails. “Now, I’m punishing you. If not for that temper of yours, she never would’ve shot at you, y’know. So I have to teach you a lil’ lesson, about runnin’ your fuckin’ mouth.”

You grunt at him and bang your fists on his chest, though he is not moved.

“Please, please, I’m sorry,” you whine. “Just let me cum.”

Toji pretends to think about it, “No.”

Then, he’s shoving your hips again, and again when you get just a little too loud - he stops. Then, you try not to make noise at all, but he can feel your needy cunt twitching on him, and he stops again. This repeats about three more times before he finally, finally keeps going as you get louder.

“If I’m gonna let you cum y’better give me a big one, lil’ brat.” His voice is deeper, as he stares at you with those animalistic eyes. “Y’gonna do that for me, needy bitch?”

Your head falls hopelessly against his shoulder as you wail into his ear, and before long your entirely body is convulsing on top of his. Your twitching pussy pushes out an orgasm so violent that you leave a sticky stream all over Toji’s thigh, heart threatening to erupt out of your chest, and the only thing left to do is hang on for dear life as Toji continues forcing your hips over his leg through your high.

You think he’s just helping you ride it out, ‘till you realize he isn’t stopping, but your poor cunt is already running sore.

“N-No,” you whine, tilting your head and digging your teeth into the side of his neck.

“Nah, y’wanted to cum soooo bad,” Toji shakes his head but you don’t notice his eyebrows knitting together, or his cock perking back up at the feeling of your teeth on him.

You huff and smack him plain across his face. An action you had not expected to do, one that almost felt invol-

“Toji,” you gasp. “Did you make me do that?”

Toji doesn’t respond. Instead, your arm involuntarily comes up and hits him again, and his cock jerks against your leg.

“Heh - and you called me a sick fuck,” you grit, sitting up, as Toji has finally slowed his movements of fucking your cunt on his leg.

“Takes one to know one,” Toji chuckles, dropping his hands from your hips.

Your next action is very, overwhelmingly voluntary. You pick your feet off of the floor and slide them down on either side of Toji’s. His legs are simply so big, that your ass and thighs are forced to sit on top of them. You’ll have to use your feet for balance instead of your knees.

Toji watches you in silence and you grip his cock at the base.

“You know I hate you, right?” you say suddenly, lifting your hips so that your cunt hovers over his tip.

“Show me just how much,” he hisses, arms moving behind his head.

“Hmph,” you mutter, before pushing his wet cock tip through your quenching hole.

Toji spasms, his entire torso nearly breaking away from the couch as his lips part in desperation.

It hurts so good, but you can take it. You slowly bend your legs to lower yourself on him, now your knees are angled in the air due to your awkward difference in size.

“Yeah, I hate you so fucking much,” he murmurs, and there’s no mistaking the feral, intimidating level of depth his voice has dropped to. “You don’t deserve to have such good pussy, brat.”

You roll your hips a bit forward, knowing you’ve managed to pull ahold of the control as your cushy walls engulf Toji’s throbbing dick.

“Don’t get attached, Toji,” you rile, lifting your palm before cracking it across his face.

He makes out a noise that is not quite a moan, but not quite a full on howl. “As if,” he mouths sassily, shaking his hips underneath you so that you slide the rest of the way down.

Now that you’ve gotten him all the way in, Toji’s prepared to take back control of your little hole.

“Took me so good,” he growls. “That was the easy part, let’s see if you can handle the rest.”

Your eyes barely have a chance to widen before Toji is driving you up and down, slowly but steadily, with his monstrous hands. You quench around him like an iron fist, and it shows in the way his stomach sucks in and writhes with pleasure. You use your knees to swirl, gushing more of your cunt’s lubrication all over his length.

He fills you up so nicely, and you wonder if his size is related to his… condition. You don’t really want to think about his wolf form, but you still feel yourself drooling at the thought of his claws popping out when he came in your mouth.

Sweat glistens on his chest, rolling down between his nipples. On his groin, there is a combined pool of cream and precum at the base of his cock, which sticks to your ass and splurges out a delicious sticky noise each time your cheeks clap against his heavy balls.

“Hit me again, Toji,” you mutter, and where his eyes had slowly been falling closed, they are wide again - glossed over in lust.

His hand whips up your shirt this time, and instead of hitting your hips or your ass, a fat palm cracks your breast and nipple in one blow. Then he cracks one on the top of your thigh.

Then, he lifts his hand towards your face with a pause, and you nod your permission.

Instead of smacking your cheek, though, he shoves his palm against your jaw and harshly presses his thumb to your lips. Cockdrunkenly, you part them and his thumb slides inside, immediately becoming encased by your needy tongue.

You swirl the finger and lather it in your spit, eyebrows furrowing at how good it feels to release your oral fixation on his hand.

All the while you still clap on him, knees growing weaker as they have slid down to the side. Toji watches you intensely, waiting for the buildup of his orgasm, ready to fill your cervix with his semen.

Your breasts, now free and exposed bounce in his face, cold air erecting your nipples combined with the stinging memory of his smack. It’s all too much for you to bear.

“K-Keep going, baby,” Toji requests softly, his mean side disappearing again. You don’t care, this may be the last time he’s ever nice to you. “Drag my cum out like a good lil’ slut.”

Your eyes are closed, your ears ringing. You hardly hear his request but you don’t stop what you’re doing.

Something sharp jabs your tongue. Your eyes pop open and, you see Toji, growling, ears sharp, hair overgrown nearly to his shoulders. You glance at his other hand and realize his claws are coming out again.

You pull his thumb out of your mouth and hasten your pace, quenching your muscles around him purposefully. He lets out a guttural howl and then, it isn’t long till heat pumps into your gummy tunnel.

You shake as your own second orgasm slips through your fingers, and a combination of your juices poor out of your stretched hole and right down onto Toji’s balls.

His teeth grow a little longer than they have the whole time, hair is strarting to replace the skin on his face. You shudder in fear and rip yourself off of his cock, where it falls limp on his sticky lap.

“Don’t worry,” Toji says through his quivers, “I-I can stop the change, jus’…” He lets out a painful grunt and then all of his skin returns to its normal hue, and his body retracts down to strictly human features.

You take a deep breath, and plop back down on top of him, this time resting your head on his shoulder as his cum drips out of you and onto your thighs and the couch.

The two of you breathe in silence for a moment, before Toji’s big arm wraps around you and he slides the two of you down on the couch - so that you are laying side by side, bare tummies and legs touching, every spot where the skin connects setting you on fire.

“I don’t really practice religion, but if I must say so myself, your pussy is a gift from God.” Toji’s words come out playfully and you find yourself laughing uncontrollably.

“Please shut the actual fuck up,” you say.

“Not kidding, brat,” Toji’s finger slides down your arm featherlight, an action so tender you find yourself trying not to think too much of it. “Seeing as I always know where you are, I may have to actually follow you around now. Make sure you’re not givin’ that shit to anyone else.”

You huff, “So what if I do? You hate me.”

“Yeah, alright,” Toji nods. “Neither of us believe that bullshit, puss. I Marked you because I want you to be mine. And you are, so don’t try no shit.”

You roll your eyes at him, intertwining your legs together. “You’re the dog, so technically, aren’t I the one who owns you?”

Toji growls and grabs your throat, “Don’t ever call me that shit again, brat. Maybe you need another round to get it through your annoying little skull.”

“My, my, what a big fucking mouth you have,” you taunt, tugging on his hair.

“All the better to eat you with, my dear,” he murmurs, and pulls your face towards his.

A/N:

I SAY AWOOOOOOOO BABYYYY 🐺 (toji ily u my everything)

this was intense mama i gotta go take a cold shower now ^.^

~pennjammin

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I please request Bill thinking he finally found a human who won't betray him, someone he really enjoyed the company of (but would never admit to that because Bill) only to find them trying to destroy the portal?

This is long as shit, be warned and I tried to keep bill in character as much as possible but he might be ooc at some points.

Your first meeting with Bill was one he didn’t expect. When faced with something you know isn’t normal, the response Bill was expecting was you running away until you were out of sight, talking off the ears of anyone who’d head your warning but you instead smiled at him.

‘Nice bow tie and top hat sentient triangle.’ You said.

‘The names Bill Cipher, so you can stop calling me that name, I find it rather insulting, and thanks! I dress to impress but most people just run away or scream bloody murder to appreciate my effort to look presentable’ he replies, finding himself a new human pet to play with after swearing to himself that Sixer would be the last, Bill was a liar and he knew it, messing with humans and destroying their physique was the most genuine fun he’s had in a long, long while.

This was merely the begging of yours and Bills weird friendship and it was only going to get weirder from this point onwards.

Being friends with a sentient triangle dream demon was…a experience indeed as you’d often wake to him floating above you, drinking something through a silly straw and wearing a hat unlike the usual slim black top hat he wore, only to find out that he had somehow snuck several chicken into your room that had scaly dragon legs and could breath fire.

That took a while for you to get ride of them with a wooden broom and not have it set on fire when the chickens retaliate with fire.

‘How did you find such things?’ You’d ask Bill when sitting down to eat breakfast.

He shrugs. ‘You search for a realm that swaps certain anatomy of animals and play a demented game of mix and match to see what monstrosities to humanity could be made and bingo! Infinite possibilities of scaring or scaring people for the rest of their lives! ha ha!’

‘And chickens with dragon feet and could breath fire is your go to choice, wasn’t there anything else you could’ve chosen from?’ You inquired as you took a bite of your breakfast and immediately grimacing when you felt something was off.

‘Oh sure there was and- oh you’ve found where I put my mealworms from last week.’ Bill casually told you as he plays with his silly straw while you spat your breakfast out into a nearby bin, wiped your mouth before pushing the plate away from you as your appetite was ruined.

'glad to be of help. buddy.' you replied as you decided that it would be best to wait for bill to disappear before attempting to eat and or drink again.

As the weeks progress Bill found himself enjoying your company more than he originally suspected, sure you were fun to mess with and play impractical pranks on from time to time. However -and he’ll never admit this ever- he had come to actually enjoy spending time with you and getting to know you outside of his personal human plaything.

Bill begrudgingly remembered your least favourite family member and why, your favourite colour, your first pets name and so much more that he would deem unimportant; to things that were deep and personal to you such as your fear of being alone or not taken seriously enough. To which he offered some -albeit questionable- advice.

‘Listen if everyone takes themselves seriously or someone wants everyone else to take them seriously, then who’s going to laugh at kids when they fall over, or at people who make an fool of themselves as they fall upon their own sword of hubris.’ Bill tells you once as you both sat on the roof of your home, star gazing.

‘And what am I meant to take away from all that ?’ You asked, not understanding what he was getting with this.

‘Don’t take yourself too seriously or expect others to either when you know that version of yourself will be someone you’ll sooner regret wishing for.’ Bill responded.

‘Do you miss home?’ You then asked him out of the blue and Bill couldn’t help but be a little taken aback by it.

‘Home..’ bill trailed off as he took his hat off, reached a hand inside and pulled out a glowing atom, the remains of his home. ‘This is what remains of my home.’ He tells you rather sombrely, remembering the last time he told a human of his origins, only for him to dedicate himself into destroying him.

‘I’m..I’m so sorry I didn’t-‘ you’d tried to apologise but bill held up a hand as he returned the remains of his home back into his top hat before putting it back on his head.

‘It’s fine. I was bound to tell you about that sooner or later.’ He waves his hand but you could tell you struck a nerve.

‘Sooo…what happened to your home, only if you don’t mind me asking.’ - you

‘It was destroyed by a monster.’ Bill answered with a distant look in his eye.

‘As stupid as this will probably sound to you but you’ll always have a home with me, I hope you know that.’ You told him with the most genuine smile across your face and Bill couldn’t help but feel…touched by your words. He’s thrown and done everything to push you to the brink and all you’ve done was withstand him and his shenanigans all the while standing your ground.

‘You’re a strange human and your sentimentality makes me physically sick but…I guess I appreciate the thought.’ Bill had to force himself to say, he might as well have swallowed down stones with how hard it seemed for him to say anything remotely considerate. You were quite possibly the only human that showed him kindness and compassion and that made the dream demon feel weird and out of his depth.

Now that Bill was thinking about it not once had you ever given him a reason to distrust you, sure he was suspicious of you at first, but overtime you have proven yourself to be the most trustworthy person in his long, long life. You had made him feel unlike anything he’s felt before and that made him on edge, just in the case that he was being lured into a false sense of security later down the line, but nope you didn’t do such a thing and stayed open and honest him no matter what.

It almost made bill feel bad about the shit he put you through but soon he’d come to regret saying these words, for not even a week later and Bill caught you red handed destroying his portal after searching the house for you when you didn’t greet him like usual.

‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!’ He screamed, his body burning brightly at the betrayal you’ve just committed, was everything you said a lie? Were you just as good at pulling people along as he was? How long have you been waiting for this exact moment to get back at him?

‘What does it look like, I’m destroying the portal.’ Your reply was stone cold as you continued to dismantle the portal piece by piece while Bill shouted profanities at you.

‘YOU LIED TO ME!’ - bill

‘That’s cute coming from someone who takes sick enjoyment in breaking every human he comes across, pushing them into utter madness with no remorse!’ You chuckled humourlessly as you looked at the dream demon who looked about ready to either cry or combust.

‘YOU LIED TO ME!’ Bill repeated as his anger only grew stronger the more he began to think back on all of your heart to heart moments and wonder whether they were fake too? Did you not mean it when you said that he had a home with you?

‘I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.’ You retorted. ‘Now are you going to shut up and kill me or keep ranting on how I somehow betrayed you because either way I don’t care.’ You added as you watched the triangular demon closely.

‘Kill you? Oh no sweetie, you’ve just earned a fate WORSE THEN DEATH! Eternal torture until you speak the truth and then torture you so more because I find your pathetic humans pain funny!’ Bill laughed maniacally. ‘And to think I was starting to like you, you just had to go and stab me in the back!’

You shrug, trying to hide how scared you were in this moment, knowing that even if you did scream for help it would be far too late by the time Ford, Stan or either dipper or Mabel to save you and you were okay with that. ‘First time for everything right?’ You asked with a smile. ‘I’m sure you’ll get use to it sooner or later.’

Bill’s eye was wide and looking maniacal in the moment as his voice was oddly and unnervingly calm that it froze your blood. ‘You humans might act brave in the face of danger, but what I’m capable will have you wishing you never picked up that wrench or tried playing the hero. For playtime is over.’

[silantryoo]

baek harin x reader

WARNINGS ; TRIGGER WARNING! heavy manipulation, love bombing, possessiveness, gaslighting, physical and emotional abuse, spoilers up to episode 8 of pyramid game

your thoughts ran wild.

harin probably already knew. somehow, she always figured out what you were thinking, as if you were an open book. she could tell your worries and your fears by glancing at you.

you did well. you knew that she would be proud of you, but still...

you shook your head. now wasn't the time to be nervous.

smoke wafted around the baekyeon heiress as you approached her, her eyes drifting in the distance. in her hand, a cigarette, laced with gold and stuffed with toxins that harin always seemed to indulge herself in.

her head tilted towards you, a dull sparkle in her eye.

"so?"

her voice was monotone, carrying out a sense of boredom that she only showed to a few others.

you watched her in all her beauty, the curls of the fog shaping the area around her. the heiress was stunning, and it always took you a couple seconds to reel yourself back to reality.

harin rolled her eyes as she approached you, tapping the side of her smoke as a warning.

instinctively, you straightened, your eyes wide as she smiled.

there was something so addictive about frightening you, something that was true genuine fear laced with an undying loyalty. you were impossible to replicate, a faithful dog waiting by her bedside.

you took a deep breath, inhaling the smoke through your nose. "i got ambushed by jaeun, suji, and them."

"i thought so." another puff of smoke exited her mouth. "did they mention anything?"

anything else?

you bit your tongue, your face ridden with guilt.

you were tired of the game, tired of getting hurt. as much as you yearned for harin's happiness, the exhaustion was getting to you. you just wanted one day to yourself, without eunbyeol and harin breathing down your back.

"no."

harin's eyes hardened, her gaze trained on you like a hawk. her pupils took in the sight; your quivering mouth, your avoidant stare...

she smiled.

"why don't i believe you?" harin clicked her tongue, pointing the end of her smoke near your cheek. "is it because you're lying to me?"

she knew. how did she know?

"no, i just..."

("join us.")

you never questioned why class 1-5 were in the middle of nowhere.

the building was nice, decorated with marble columns and sleek white paint. the washrooms were clean, close by, and rarely messy except for the occasional tissue lying on the ground.

it felt as if you were purposely isolated, the twenty-four other girls in your class being the only ones in reach.

sometimes, you even forgot other classes existed.

"harin's a fucking bitch."

you paused. kim dayeon?

a girl like her wouldn't be caught dead in the library. there was no reason for her to be here, much less talk shit about the heiress of the entire school.

you kept your mouth shut as your thoughts wandered to the girl in question.

baek harin.

pretty, intelligent, soft-spoken. from what you've seen, all those things were right. you were always too shy to approach her, your thoughts clouded by the beauty that she held. from what you heard from others, she was the embodiment of niceness, going out of her way to lend others money with nothing in return (yet).

why would dayeon even say these things about her?

"god, you think she's all high and mighty." dayeon muttered, her feet shuffling as she paced back and forth. "that psycho probably wants us to worship the ground she walks on."

psycho? baek harin wasn't a psycho.

"a hierarchy game?" dayeon could already see it in her head. she had no choice but to agree at that moment, wanting to spare herself from her father later that day, but when harin had mentioned it... "is she demented?"

"pyramid game, dayeon." seo doah. that made sense as to why dayeon was here. "if you're gonna insult it, at least name it properly."

"shut it."

"you might also wanna check if anyone else is in the library." your throat ran dry as doah stood up, staring at you across the room. "right, y/n?"

you shot up, your eyes wide as dayeon stared at you. there was something in her eyes that was unfamiliar.

fear? what was she scared of? surely, it wasn't harin.

"um..."

"fuck." your eyes widened at her words. never in your life would you have thought that the eccentric kim dayeon would swear like a sailor. "don't you dare say shit, you understand me?"

you shook your head, your body stiff. "i won't-"

"you don't know what the fuck is at risk here." dayeon's anger roared throughout the library, her fist shaking. dayeon wouldn't hit you... right? "open your mouth and i'll stitch it shut."

you nodded, trembling as you packed your things to leave.

"jeez, dayeon..." doah shook her head.

you stood up, your bag half open, and your textbooks barely inside. in your arms, you gathered everything that you could, arms shaking as you rushed out the room.

a spark of fear lighted up inside you when you saw daeyeon fingernails imbed themselves into the soft skin of her palm. the crescents swelled a bright red, and you knew that she wasn't joking.

she was gonna hurt you. was she gonna hurt harin as well?

you needed to get out of here, maybe even tell harin how insane and dangerous her friend seemed.

how was that even possible? how could someone like dayeon hold a rage inside themselves like that? you could understand it from that suck up, wooyi, but dayeon?

you stumbled slightly as you turned the corner, the books nearly falling out of your bag as you collided with someone. a strong, sculpted hand grabbed your elbow, electricity shooting up your arm.

that feeling...

"is something wrong?"

her breath smelt faintly of nicotine, her perfume - one you assumed cost at least a couple hundred dollars - blocking the scent enough to not register in your brain.

you bit your tongue. "no..."

"you can tell me, y/n-ah." your heart leaped at her words, a cloud of affection and care seemingly coating them. "i don't bite."

harin's smile seemed so soft and elegant, like the status she so desperately upheld. her eyes gleamed gently (and if you looked any closer, void of life) as her cheeks dusted in a costly blush.

don't snitch. you thought as her worried gaze peered into your soul. why should i protect dayeon?

you bit your tongue, your chest bursting with guilt at the thought of dayeon laying a finger on the heiress in front of you.

"dayeon..." you whisper as an eyebrow on her pretty face raised. "she, um, she might hurt you."

you waited for harin's face to shift into worry, into fear, into a normal reaction. you waited for her lips to part and ask 'why?', to ponder what your words truly meant.

instead, she laughed, as if the thought of dayeon hurting her was a part of some greco-roman comedy and not a tragedy.

harin let go of your arm, moving your hair out of your face as your eyebrows furrowed.

"so i'm guess you heard about my game as well?"

you nod. you had forgotten that those threats had stemmed from some game dayeon had mentioned.

a hierarchy game... a pyramid game.

"what do you think about it?" harin's eyes shone in a playful demeanor, full of curiosity and excitement. you couldn't fathom why or how she wasn't worried. "doesn't it sound fun?"

the air shifted around you as her irises seemed to blacken. a heavy burden settled on your chest as she face twitched into a smile, and you felt compelled - forced - to agree.

"it does," you chuckled awkwardly. "i guess."

a soft hum escaped her mouth, her eyes glancing at your face, taking in the fear that had shifted from dayeon to her. behind your eyes, she saw something... something exciting.

the heiress smiled.

"i hope you're in 'a' with me." you had no idea what she meant, but the thought of being near baek harin made the room spin. "it'll be lonely without you."

she stepped beside you, a gentle touch on your shoulder. her breath wafted close to your ear as she spoke with a stiff voice, one you wouldn't recognize as harin's.

"thanks for the heads up about dayeon." you shivered, a cool line shooting up your spine. "i'll deal with her."

she walked away as a deep pit in your stomach emerged.

deal with her?

you gripped your books tighter as you listened to the fading footsteps, and the soft "hello, can i speak to mr. kim? it's harin." in the distance.

you didn't know why, but somehow, you made the wrong decision.

you were never scared of blood.

it was a liquid that flowed inside you and every person's body, just like how water seeped from the sky and into the ground. blood was a natural process, nothing more and nothing less.

but when you saw that knife, drenched from your classmate's fresh wound...

you shivered at the thought, while harin's soft hands fiddled with a strand of your hair.

"do you feel bad for her?" harin's smile never disappeared, not since the game started. it didn't disappear when crimson dripped onto the floor, either. "woori?"

her lifeless eyes bore into yours, jolts of electricity and fire rising throughout your fingertips and cheeks. her hand, close enough to feel your breath, paused as the rest of harin's body stilled.

all of her stopped, as if so curious about your thoughts that each cell of hers had to still.

"you can be honest." her breath laced in nicotine once more, her perfume no longer covering the overwhelming scent. "i wanna know."

woori was an 'f'.

being an 'a' yourself, you had the right to torture her, to manipulate and ridicule her.

you never did, leaving it up to dayeon to do whatever she pleased with her. part of you still felt bad for what happened earlier in the year, and each time you blinked, you remembered the heavy-handed bruises left on dayeon's face the day after you had told harin about the library incident.

you understood woori, though. the mental toll it must've taken, being bullied throughout the day, months on end without another student looking your way. telling the teachers only resulted in a beating at best, and at worst...

your eyes clenched tightly as your brain replayed that video.

"a little..."

harin chuckled, pulling her hand away and fishing out a cigarette.

"you saw her cut jaeun up." harin muttered through her smoke, her delicate fingers wrapped around the golden band.

you remember the marble on the classroom floor stained red in a way that you didn't think it would.

blood wasn't scary. fear was.

"i did."

"and you still feel bad." harin inhaled, smoke leaving her nostrils as she looked you up and down. "interesting..."

as of late, harin had been smoking around you more and more often. whether it be behind the shed or simply just the two of you in the library, clouds of smoke seemed to follow her, and in turn, you.

the first time it had happened, you had coughed violently, taken off guard as the heiress smiled. your tears were exciting to her, much like your overwhelming sense of loyalty clashing with your morality.

she had never met anyone who was so inwardly conflicted.

"did she really drop out, harin-ah?"

harin blinked, standing up from her chair as she snubbed the end of her cig on some random book cover in front of her. she threw the smoke onto the floor, grinding it with her heel. her eyes were cold, and dark, and you knew that you had messed up again.

you didn't cough this time around. she had no reason to be mad.

the heiress gathered her belongings, sparing not a single glance your way.

"y/n?"

your heart skipped a beat.

"yeah?"

"my name's harin." she glanced at you, unamused. "don't call me that again."

seong suji.

the girl was nice, a little naive to the happenings of class 2-5. you could tell from a mile away that the girl wanted to stay low and let time pass its course, but you knew better than anyone that she had a target on her back.

everyone's attention had been on her from the moment whispers spread about a new girl transferring into the class. the moment she stepped into the room, you watched as harin's eyes lit up, and a fire blazed inside you.

you didn't know whether it was guilt or jealousy.

"are you stupid?" harin clenched her teeth as she hovered over you, her eyes hardening like coals under pressure. "telling the new girl about my game?"

suji didn't hear the predators hiding in the tall grass. she didn't see their eyes, nor did she notice their bloodlust-filled gazes, but she felt it, and there were only two people in her mind who seemed to lack the barbarity that lingered in the empty halls of the complex.

"look at me!"

your eyes snapped to harin's, anger exuding from her lips as puffs of smoke filled the air and ashes fell onto the ground.

you winced.

"harin..." you had never seen this side of her, not directed at you. you had always watched from the distance as opposed to being the target. "i just thought-"

"did you?" harin's lips curled in a way that could only be described as disbelief, your utter incompetence boggling her mind. "or are you just as stupid as your dropout brother?"

you winced, the low blow winding your self-esteem.

"she looked confused." you tried your best to reason with an iron wall. "i didn't want her to feel like-"

harin's eyes widened, and her usual curiosity morphed into an unfiltered rage.

"like who? woori? jaeun?" she exhaled another cloud, your face getting covered in smoke as you struggled to breath. "you're so fucking stupid."

you felt the heiress lean closer, the tip of the cigarette centimeters away from your cheek.

"i'm sorry."

"you're sorry?" harin could feel her blood boiling. everything was ruined. "i had a plan. you ruined it for me. you ruined my game, y/n."

you closed your eyes, trying to drown out the sharp words and the blanket of burden that harin enveloped you with.

you just wished harin would go back to being curious and playful, and leave you ignorant to the fact that deep down, she was the monster dayeon had implied many months ago.

with a weak voice, you tried to reason. "i didn't mean to..."

"you didn't-" harin backed away, ripping the smoke from her lips and into her fingertips. "give me your hand."

your eyes widened.

"harin-"

she grabbed your wrist with a surprising amount of strength. her nails dug into your arm, your teeth grinding together at the dull pain. the heat of the cigarette hovered over your palm as you struggled to pull back, and you couldn't help but choke out a strangled gasp.

"harin, wait-"

the smell of flesh burning invaded your senses as your arm shook from the pain. lightning seemed to replace your veins, as a fire replaced your blood. your vision fuzzed, the tears in your eyes falling down your chin.

harin glanced at you, a small smile replacing her grimace. you were always so pretty when you were in pain.

"remember this." she threw her smoke onto the ground, her grip on your wrist tightening. "you mess with my game, you upset me. you don't want that to happen again, do you?"

the last thing you wanted was to see harin frown in your direction.

"no."

harin smiled, glancing at how your lips quivered and how your eyes held an intoxicating mixture of fear and want. quietly, she wiped a tear with her free hand, chuckling as you flinched at her touch.

"then stay away from seong suji." she leaned in, her voice soft except for the threatening undertone. "if i see you even look at her without my permission, i'll make your life hell."

her grip loosened, harin's eyes softening as she looked at you with what seemed to be worry and understanding.

"i..." you blinked, agreeing like an obedient dog. even now, you couldn't help but wonder which harin was the real harin, but all you knew was that you didn't want to disappoint her. "i understand."

harin sighed, glancing at the burn in your hand with contempt. "i don't like doing this to you."

you paused, your face brightening as the smell of tobacco stuck to your blazer.

"you don't?"

harin smiled. it was like catching a mouse in a well placed trap. you were predictable and easy to please. a couple right words and you'd be under her spell all over again.

"you think i do?" the heiress frowned, biting her tongue.

she loved it.

"no..."

with a giggle, she took your wrist, much more gently than before.

"let's get you patched up."

harin liked putting on lipgloss around you.

she liked the way your eyes darted to her mouth for a split second before they looked anywhere else in the room. the redness of your cheeks delighted her in the sense that she knew that no matter what, you'd be stuck under her thumb.

you were her stupid, little puppet. your strings strong and unwavering, and your heart tainted with a loved one that you thought she didn't see.

it was adorable, like a puppy chasing its own tail, or a whale, no longer strong enough to go up for air.

harin liked to send you on mindless errands.

it was a good way to keep you in check, much better than instilling fear. she could sense that someone like you liked to feel needed, even if it's something as simple as fetching her more of her favorite brand of smokes or picking up items that she used for bribery.

it gave her a good laugh when you would come back, beaming as if you accomplished something when in reality, one of her maids could have easily done the same.

you were none the wiser, currently on your way to getting her more coffee (well, to get doah coffee per harin's demand).

you were just about to leave the campus, but a strong yet gentle hand yanked you aside, dragging you out of sight from the windows of the complex.

"sorry, y/n-ah."

you tried to shake her off, but she was too strong.

"jaeun, let go." why was she doing this? more importantly, why was she taking you to the nearby convenience store. "i can't be talking to you. you know that."

jaeun stopped, and you thought that she had finally gotten tired of you complaining so much. instead, you looked at the scene in front of you, two girls sitting in the shade of a foldable umbrella.

harin was gonna burn you alive.

"harin's pet?" jaehyeong shook her head, staring at the taller girl beside you. "jaeun-ie, are you sick? do you have a fever?"

you frowned. you weren't 'harin's pet'. so what if you liked being around her?

"she's nice." jaeun muttered, ushering you to the other girls. you tried to turn away, but she moved you in such a way that you couldn't escape. "she helped suji out."

"that was a mistake."

suji raised an eyebrow. she didn't know what was wrong with you. how could someone change so much in a matter of two months?

her eyes wandered your figure, stopping at the burns that littered your right hand.

oh. that makes sense.

"hey, y/n-ah."

"yerim?" you turned around, your jaw hanging open as the trainee sat with the girls, sipping on a can of coffee. you glanced at her phone, watching as she scrolled through eunjeong's instagram. "what the hell is going on?"

you looked around, their eyes glancing at suji with hesitation.

"you're not gonna convince her, suji." yerim shook her head.

being in rank 'a' herself, she knew firsthand how you followed every word harin said. she could tell from a mile away what it was, yerim herself victim to the feeling with a certain swimmer.

but there was a difference between the two of you, one that could prove to be detrimental.

you needed someone to follow, while she didn't.

"i can." suji glanced at your hand again. "i know i can."

"convince me?"

you felt a lump in your throat, praying that somehow, in some way, harin would come barging in and save you from whatever was going on here.

you took a deep breath, and sensing danger was near, gripped your wrist for safety.

jaeun frowned.

"i was serious about bringing down the game, y/n."

the pyramid game.

that stupid game that harin focused all her energy into, hellbent on keeping the perfect hierarchy intact. the one where you watched your classmates get beaten to a pulp, bloody and broken to the point of mental disarray.

you had never spoken it out loud, but you were tired of it, watching everyone you know either do the hurting or get hurt (most times both).

but this was harin's game, and you'd rather hurt yourself than upset the girl you loved.

"harin'll be pissed."

yerim chuckled, a knowing smile on her face. she didn't expect anything less from you.

"aren't you?" suji glanced at your hand, one you held for dear life, as if you were afraid it would get burned again. "after everything you've done for her, she still burns you."

you frowned.

harin did it with good reason. she needed to keep you in line, to keep you from lashing out. she did this to you because, unlike wooyi or dayeon, she trusted you enough to understand.

harin did it out of the pureness of her heart.

"that was an accident."

"an accident?" suji could feel your doubt starting to seep through. that was enough for her, to see the light beyond the cracks of your love. "hurting you multiple times the same way was an accident?"

was it an accident? it had to be, otherwise, harin was just hurting you to hurt you.

you shook the thought out of your head, missing the way the girls looked at each other, satisfied.

"what do you want, seong suji?"

there was a beat in the air.

"join us."

she knew. how did she know?

"no, i just..."

you liked harin, even when she suffocated you with her smoke, staining your white shirt with the ash of her cigarettes. her eyes wandered yours routinely, and it felt as if she was trying to dig deep as if she needed you.

"i figured out a way to get to them."

harin's eyes sparkled. she would have never thought that you, docile and timid, would ever think of something other than her and school.

it was... exhilarating.

"sim eunjeong." you rattled out a breath, your eyes clenching at the very thought of what you were doing. "yerim... likes her more than we think."

the heiress laughed, the excitement in her chest bursting at the thought of you ignoring your morals just to please her and only her.

she leaned close to you, her face in front of yours as she moved a single lock of hair behind your ear. shivers ran up your spine.

"do you feel bad, y/n-ah?" harin hadn't felt this happy in a while. "ratting them out to me must be so heavy on your consciousness."

she looked you up and down, your eyes avoiding hers. your cheeks were tinged in red, and the guilt written all over your face didn't help the giddiness that was starting to overtake her.

"you're fun, y/n."

you'd do anything for her, even when she hurt you. even when everyone screamed and yelled at you to leave, ignoring the bright red stop signs.

"i like you."

> main masterlist.

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

Hi! Just here to say that i loved What's in Between so much and i truly was meltinggg with part II 💕💕💕

I've never requested anything before and I don't rlly know how this works so it's all good if you decide no to write this one, but for the request: is it possible for it to be a hurt/comfort, Miguel x reader with the prompt "Talk to me, please. You need to keep your eyes open. Just a little longer"?

𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞, 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Summary: It was supposed to be a regular mission on any normal day at Spider Society, but momentary distractions are costly and you may have just paid the ultimate price.

Warnings: Mentions of injury and death, BUT IT GETS SOFT I PROMISE.

“Miguel!” you say, bounding up to him with a pep in your step. He looks down at you with a small smile on his face, but it disappears as Jess glances over at him.

“You know you don’t have to pretend to be stoic all the time, how long have we known each other?” She asks, and he only rolls his eyes.

“This isn’t pretending,” he says to her before turning back to you. “Ready?” he asks.

“Always.”

Today was like any normal day at Spider Society, filled with missions to protect the canon of the multiverse. Albeit a little different, because it wasn’t too often that you were able to go on a mission with Miguel. He typically went on them alone, working best without distractions. But whenever he needed a partner you were his first choice.

With one last glance at each other (and a wink that makes Miguel snort) you both head through the portal.

It never gets tiring, travelling to a different dimension. What’s fascinating is the in-between, swirls of bright oranges, reds and blues all as an interconnected web between all possible universes in the multiverse. You get lost in the view, which is probably why you never realize that at the same time, Miguel gets lost in you.

After a little bit, you both emerge on the other side.

“That never gets old,” you grin at him.

“No…no, it doesn’t,” he says, his eyes trailing over your form for a moment.

“So, what’s the deal with this universe today?” you ask, and Miguel huffs softly.

“You would know if you ever listened to the mission briefings,” he says, giving you a side-eye as you both walk around the abandoned factory.

“Why do I need to listen when you’d just tell me anyway, love?” you ask, and he only sighs.

“Yes, but I shouldn’t have to say it twice, amor,” he mocks and you laugh out loud. Your laughter is contagious because Miguel lets out a chuckle himself before continuing.

“She’s a villain from Earth-17502, her main weapons are wooden spikes that emerge from her back and a pistol. What she lacks in speed she has in brute force, and the spikes can be shot out at 100km per hour, regenerated with hammerspace,” he explains.

“So like…a demented Sonic the Hedgehog?” you snicker.

“What? No, I just said she wasn’t fast,” he says, confused.

“No wait, a demented porcupine,” you say, and he only snorts. “Sure, querida.”

“Ugh, disgusting. Romance,” a disembodied voice interrupts, and the two of you immediately go on the defence. From the shadows emerges said villain in question, a cruel expression on her face as she readies her pistol by her side.

Without warning she begins shooting, but the two of you are fast and in sync, splitting off and slinging away with your webs.

“Look bud, I’m sorry that your love life is sad but don’t take it out on us!” You shout, swinging around with a relaxed look on your face.

She only lets out a growl, continuing to shoot at you to no avail. Behind her, Miguel is making his own advance, but like a triggered trap her spikes shoot out before he can get too close.

“Shit!” he says, leaping out of the way just in time.

“It wouldn’t do you well to sneak up on me, little one,” she laughs cruelly. “Wouldn’t want to get skewered!”

Now it's a game of ‘try to avoid the bullets and the spikes flying in all directions at once’, and it seemed like you were at a stalemate.

“There’s no way to get close to her!” you say frustratedly, leaping from pillar to pillar as you continue to evade her bullets. It seemed her frustration seemed to reach a peak as well as she lets out a shout, unable to hit her marks. You move down to the floor, trying a new approach from the ground.

“We’ll figure it out, we always do,” Miguel reassures, and you let out a little smile.

But in that minuscule second of distraction the villain finds an opening, and before you know it a spike is flying straight for you with no time to evade it.

“NO!!” you hear him shout, but it was already too late. All the while, the villain only laughs in the face of your anguish. The spike impales your side, and for a few breathless moments, you don’t even feel it, as though it was nothing more than a punch to the side, a bit of pressure. The adrenaline pumping through your veins does its job of allowing you to not feel the pain.

But as you stumble slightly, it starts to settle in. All at once the searing hot pain hits you like a train, and you collapse to your knees, unable to hold yourself up anymore.

Every breath you take becomes more difficult than the last as a ringing fills your ears.

In front of you, Miguel fights with a new vigour you had never seen in him before, claws slashing and webs flying. Each action is served with purpose and no restraint on his strength, and the villain can no longer keep up. But before long your vision starts to fail you as well, closing in on your line of sight as you collapse onto your side with a wheeze. What felt like an eternity was in reality only maybe 30 seconds, but you were so, so tired.

Out of the corner of his eye Miguel sees you collapse, and all he sees is red. Before he can realize it his fangs are out, and he bites through the villain’s neck effectively paralyzing them instantly.

Within moments he is by your side, scooping you up into his arms as you blink blearily up at him.

“LYLA, SEND BACKUP NOW,” he shouts, his voice cracking at the end and for once there is no funny banter between the two of them as she does his orders immediately.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. Slowly you feel your eyes begin to close, but he shouts your name.

"Talk to me, please. You need to keep your eyes open, just a little longer,” he begs, clutching you close. You’ve never heard his voice so broken, not even when he told you about his past.

“It-” you gasp. “It hurts so bad, Miguel,” your voice weak with pain.

He looks at you with panic and fear, but most of all a feeling of helplessness.

“Querida, come on. You’re strong, mi vida. Stay with me, alright?” he says, his hand gently brushing your hair back before he scoops you up, carrying you in his arms.

You can’t help but cry out in pain as he does, the spike digging deeper into your side.

“Fuck, fuck,” he says, moving as fast toward the portal Jess had just opened up. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I need to get you to the infirmary, alright? You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay,” he says, trying desperately to believe it himself.

But he doesn’t know anymore. You’ve lost too much blood, the injury too serious.

It throws him back to when he was carrying his daughter like this, frantically running as the world falls apart around him.

But this time it was you. His light, the best to have ever happened to him amongst the infinite possibilities throughout the multiverse, the one person that managed to pull him out of the pit he had fallen into after the destruction of his daughter’s world.

You were his salvation…and he was about to lose you.

“I love you, Miguel,” you say softly, before you let out a violent cough. “In case…in case I’m not here to say it anymore.”

“No, no. Don’t say that. You’ll be able to say it a million more times, alright querida? A million more, and even then it won’t be enough,” he says, but you can’t hear him anymore. You can’t even make out his beautiful face so broken in anguish.

All you can see are the colours of the space between the universes. The oranges, reds and blues.

~

You didn’t think death would be so cold and monotonous. You weren’t exactly sure if you believed in the concept of ‘heaven’ or ‘hell’, the Fields of Elysium were probably closer to what you expected the afterlife to be like. But you definitely didn’t expect it to be so…bland.

It was like an endless void you walked through, no warmth, no ‘light’ to go towards, just you and your thoughts.

Your thoughts.

Miguel.

The guilt hits you like a tidal wave at the fact that you left him alone. Another person was ripped from his grasp by the hands of fate. You couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him, and you did just that by leaving him behind. Even though you promised each other forever on your wedding day, here you were breaking that promise.

You couldn’t find the strength in your legs to continue walking aimlessly anymore. Like that fight in the factory, you fell to your knees, not because of your injury but because of the pain you felt in your heart for hurting the one you loved the most.

You remember his face as he held you in his arms, pleading for you to stay.

He was so warm. He always was.

You missed him.

“Miguel…” you whisper. “I’m sorry for leaving you behind,” you sob.

~

~

~

“Don’t leave me, querida,” a voice says, far off in the distance. Your head whips up at the sound, and you look around desperately trying to hear it again.

“Please…please, I can’t. I can’t do this without you,” the voice says, and in an instant you’re back on your feet following the sound.

“You were the best thing to ever happen to me, vida mía. Somehow loving me in spite of my brokenness. I don’t…I don’t know how to live without you by my side.” You’re running toward the voice now, running through the darkness with it as your guide.

“Don’t leave me…” the voice whispers before fading away, leaving you with nothing to follow anymore.

“NO!” you shout, and before you know it your webs are shooting out from your wrists, catching onto something, and then you’re swinging forward into the unknown.

~

Your hearing is the first of your senses to return, the steady beat of the heart rate monitor gratingly irritating after a while. It was ironic considering it was the first to disappear when you first got injured.

Next is your touch. You feel the weight of the hospital blankets, scratchy but warm.

Not as warm as the hand that grasped your own though, holding it tight.

Your sense of smell and taste come back around the same time, the sterile scent of the hospital unfamiliar, your mouth dry.

The last is your sight. Granted it was a bit difficult to see with your eyes closed, but you hadn’t quite found the strength to open them until now.

Blearily you blink as the bright lights temporarily blind you, but your attention isn’t on them for long. Instead, you turn to Miguel who sits staring at you in shock, eyes so wide it was almost comical.

“Hi,” you say softly, and he only blinks once before his forehead is pressed to your thigh, a broken sob escaping his throat. He grasps your hand all the tighter, as though he was never going to let go.

It makes you almost want to cry too, but instead you lift your arm up weakly before running it through his hair the way you knew he loved.

“I thought, I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispers, his face still pressed into your leg. He says it so quietly that you can barely hear him, like if he uttered the words too loudly they would come true.

“I could never leave you, my love,” you say. “I have to say ‘I love you’ a million times before then, remember? Or was it a billion?” He can’t help but chuckle, finally lifting his head up to look at you.

He looked exhausted, his usual dark circles darker than usual, his red eyes bloodshot. But he looked so, so relieved.

“No amount of times could ever be enough, vida mía,” he says before pressing his lips to yours.

You both smile into the kiss of a thousand swirling emotions, a million words left unsaid but you both understood even despite it all.

“Guess I’ll just have to get started then,” you say with a grin as you pull away.

“I love you, Miguel,” you say.

“I love you, querida,” he says in turn.

Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid,@phobia0325, @remuslupinwifeee, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @raweggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex, @chimpkinnuggies, @rqdior, @banana--belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @phobia0325, @alcinas-darling-side

A/N: Was thinking of leaving it on a cliffhanger, thought that would be too cruel LMAO. Thank you for reading! And thank you for requesting, anon <3 I had fun with this one hehe

[starogeorgina]

𝐔𝐧𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧

Paring: Aemond Targaryen × Targaryen reader, minor Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut, kidnapping, sexual blackmail, self harm (overall dark themes)

Chapter: 1.01

Blood and cheese.

Fucking blood and cheese.

The destruction that blood and cheese caused would haunt Aemond until the day he died. He never meant for Lucerys to die; he thought at most his nephew would piss his pants and fly off home crying to his mother; instead, he indirectly set off a chain of events that couldn’t be stopped and was responsible for tearing his own family apart.

If Arrax hadn't breathed fire on Vhagar, then Vhagar never would have...

It was his fault.

Deep down, he knew that.

And now Aemond had paid the ultimate price. He took his half sister’s son away from her, and now the blacks have taken his sweet wife and unborn child from him.

Not only was the prince demented with fear of not knowing what had become of his beloved wife, but his poor sister Helaena was forced to make the worst choice a parent could make and lost her firstborn son, Jaehaerys. He could never bring his nephews back, but perhaps he could still save his wife, if he ever found her. His wife’s dragon Stardust has been circling the keep, squealing loudly while looking for her rider since the day she was taken, and whenever the dragon went silent, a fleeting feeling of hope would cross Aemond's mind that perhaps she had returned, but that was never the case.

The prince’s fingers grip the leather arm rest of the chair tightly, and his knuckles turn white as his mind takes him to a dark place. Was someone mistreating his wife? Was she dead? He had been tracking the dates and had determined that his unborn babe should have been born two moons ago.

“Prince Aemond.”

He stands when the king's hand approaches him holding an opened scroll in his hand, “grandsire.”

“I believe we know where the Princess is.”

“You’ve said that before,” he spits harshly. “And all it did was cause my mother more heartache.”

As soon as the words leave Aemond’s mouth, he regrets them; his comment wasn’t fair. His grandsire cared for them all but had a particular soft spot for his granddaughters. Aemond often had to remind himself that his wife being taken affected the rest of his family as well. His grandsire had used every connection he had to try and find his wife, while his mother had sent ravens to Rhaenyra, begging for her daughter's return.

“I’m sorry,” Aemond says. “Where is she?”

Otto nods, giving him a look of understanding. “Dragonstone.”

“Dragonstone,” he repeats. Could it be that she was so close to home all this time? The last time Aemond thought he had found his wife, he ended up burning Harrenhal to the ground. “How do we know this isn’t a trap?”

Otto holds up the scroll: “A raven arrived from Prince Jacaerys.”

Believing he’s heard everything he needs to, Aemond goes to leave but is stopped at the door by Ser Criston, who gives him a sympathetic look and pats his shoulder. “There are still things you need to know, my prince.”

—

You stare up at the ceiling, waiting for your uncle to appear. He always comes when the sun disappears and the sky turns black. On cue, the door to the room is unlocked, and your uncle walks in with a strut in his step. One of his hands had a tight grip on the head of his Valyrian steel sword, while the other dangled the key.

Knowing what his intentions were, you pull up your gown, spread your legs wide open, lick two of your fingers before bringing them to your clitoral area, and begin rubbing in a circular motion. This wasn’t about putting a show on for your abductor; you just wanted it to be over quickly. “Your cunt of a brother stole my wife’s crown, sending her into early labor, and your husband killed our Lucerys in cold blood. You are going to rectify those things by replacing what was taken from us.” Since the day the maester cleared you for sex again, your uncle has visited you nightly.

Daemon smirks, “Such an eggar girl, I’m starting to think you enjoy our nightly activities.”

You wondered if Daemon convinced himself that he doesn’t mistreat you so he could sleep better at night and find a way to forgive himself because he knew the gods wouldn’t forgive him for what he was doing to his own kin.

“Don’t stop touching yourself until I say so,” he orders.

You do as he says, thinking of Aemond as you touch yourself.

“Husband.”

Aemond looks up at you with a smile on his face. You’d been searching for him for hours, and you now feel silly for not searching the castle's library first. He often reads late at night before joining you in bed, but because of the stormy weather, you thought your husband might have gone dragon riding.

“You’ve kept me waiting.”

“Oh, I must have lost track of time; my apologies,” he says sincerely. He puts a bookmark in place, then sits the book on the small table beside him.

You walk towards him with a smirk on your lips. “It’s quite alright, my love, but I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

“Wha—”

By unfolding your robe and pulling up your sheer nightgown, you grant Aemond complete entry to your glistening cunt. He slides his finger along your folds gently, “so wet already.”

“I warmed myself up while waiting,” you tease.

Aemond kisses over your clothed body while sliding a finger into you, a smile pulling on his lips. “Well, I better not keep you waiting any longer, my dear wife.”

Daemon smacks your hand away, replacing your hand with his, and rubs at your clit until a moan slips from your mouth. He kneeled down and buried his head between your legs, bringing you pleasure with his skilled tongue. You hated yourself for enjoying the feeling of his mouth on you. When your walls start to clench, Daemon abruptly stops and unties his breeches low enough for his cock to spring out. He spits into his hand and strokes himself to complete hardness before sliding into you.

You wince at the stretch. Daemon wasn’t much smaller than your husband, but it always seemed to hurt when he thrust into you.

Perhaps that was deliberate on his part.

It didn’t matter how rough Aemond was with you; he never hurt you. Not once.

—

It doesn’t take Daemon long to reach his peak inside you, filling you with seed. Once he’s caught his breath, he begins to quickly fix his breeches. “You had tears in your eyes.”

“I’m surprised you noticed.”

He scoffs, “If it’s causing you so much pain, I can have the maesters bring tea; that will help.”

“I don’t want a tea to dry my milk up, uncle; I want to see my babe, Daenys, and feed her myself.”

He shoots you a cold glare and says, “No.”

You practically leap from the bed and press your back against the door, just as he reaches to open it. “Please, Daemon, please. You said I could see my daughter. All I want to know is that she’s safe. Please, please!”

“I said you could see her once you held up your end of the deal.”

When he forcefully pulls the door open, you are forced to move forward to let him by, and your body shakes with anger. “I’ve held up my—”

Daemon grips your face harshly. “The deal was that I would return the Kinslayers babe to you once you're pregnant!”

The single door to the room is slammed shut and locked, and you're all on your own again. Tears fall from your eyes as you move to the bed and curl up in the thin bed sheets. You felt like a fool when Daemon first took you as his prisoner. You sobbed and begged at his feet, promising to do anything it took to stay alive so that your unborn child could survive. And out of all the horrific thoughts that crossed your mind, you did not consider that he would force you into becoming a vessel, with the sole purpose of giving him another heir.

The only person who was kind to you was your nephew, Jacaerys. Sometimes he’d manage to sneak you extra food during the day, but mostly he’d sneak in to see you during the hour of the owl and would bring Daenys with him.

The few hours a night you got to spend with her made everything you suffered seem worth it, but it was never enough. The visits had become less and less, as Jacaerys was terrified of Daemon finding out. Your nephew promised he’d find a way to free you, but day by day, your hope of ever making it off Dragonstone was fading.

—

Aemond squeezes the sapphire necklace that he had made from his wife moons ago. It was his intention to give it to her on her nameday, but he never got the chance. Her eyes would light up whenever she got excited, and he imagined how they would look when she received her gift. He knew his wife would appreciate the sapphire carved into the shape of a heart. The sharp point of the bottom of the heart digs into his palm; the sting of it is the only thing that reminds the prince he is alive as he listens to his grandsire talk about his beloved.

“It seems Rhaenyra has slowly descended into madness, leaving the island under the charge of prince Daemon, who has deemed the princess his new— whore.” The pain and disgust in Otto’s voice was clear as he spoke of his granddaughter's fate. “Jacaerys states she has given birth to a healthy babe not long after she was taken, a girl.”

Aemond struggles to breathe as all the air is sucked from his lungs again. He had a daughter, a baby girl. Tears threatened to spill from his eye, but he squeezed the necklace harder to stop that from happening. It’s not until Aemond feels a warm liquid falling from his hand that he realizes he had held onto too tightly, and now he is bleeding.

Ser Criston notices but doesn’t draw attention to it; the knight clears his throat. “What does the bastard want in return?”

“For his mother's life to be spared,” Otto replies. “He even says he’d bend the knee if it meant saving her.”

“It could be a trick.”

“No,” Alicent says. “I don’t believe he would gamble on his mother's life. Rhaenyra’s sons love her; this we cannot deny.”

“Mother, I didn’t hear you come in.” Aemond's chest tightens with guilt when he spots the tears in his mother's eyes. “You shouldn’t listen to the details; it will only upset you.”

“Oh, my boy,” Alicent strokes his cheek, “we will get her back, the both of them. This I promise.”

[whatbigotspost]

Our 2 party system is corrupt and upsetting. I get that the democrat party stays trash AND I’m fucking thrilled and shocked they’re actually shaking things up like never before.

I know Biden has done horrific things AND he actually is commendable for EVENTUALLY listening and making this choice (at the last minute.) Who has ever done similar (hint: no one.)

I understand Kamala is a cop AND I’m still voting for her, no question. Not even flinching.

I understand she is too like Genocide Joe on many many issues that I deeply disagree with AND I’m fucking delighted the republicans entire 2024 election playbook (“our guy is LESS demented and decrepit!!!!”) is now embarrassing irrelevant and easily weaponizable back at them.

I wasn’t gonna watch any fucking debates or really any election anythings, bc what would I possibly learn that would be of any value?

But now I’m absolutely giddy to watch someone who is (no matter what you think of her politics) CLEARLY at the top of her “talking off the cuff” game and she will run verbal circles around the lumbering fool the Christo fascists are propping up as their meat puppet Trojan horse for Project 2025.

I was always going to vote blue nose-hold bc I understand that is one of the very very few levers that is clearly, obviously in front of me that I have within my personal power to pull against fascism.

I’d like elections to still exist. And our elections aren’t perfect, our systems are fucked, I hate parties, I hate the electoral college, I hate SCOTUS and honestly I hate 99% of politicians writ large AND the demoralizing experience that is voting as a leftist in Texas sure just got a lot less deflating and empty feeling.

The republicans really were gonna ride the boost off of a fucking an assassination attempt to the White House and the dems looked like they were really gonna let them…

AND THEN THEY DIDN’T.

It doesn’t change everything but it changes SOMETHING. Everyone else has already said all the great analogies about voting in the US…it’s choosing a bus ticket, not marrying the candidate, yadda yadda yadda. My bigger point here is that things at least are more interesting and less “over before it’s over.”

Abandon all or nothing thinking in your politics. It will serve you very little.

If you’re curious about a very good review of what has happened (as of Sunday), how it’s possible in US electoral structures that the dem nominee can switch like this, this is a helpful, fact-based non-partisan overview.

[prettynice8]

Kinkmas Day 1: Rimming

Paring: Kakashi Hatake x male reader

This guy

Warnings: Rimming DUH, anal fingering, teasing, slight begging, little bottom twinky fuck me daddy feminine male reader, no actual sex, enemies to lovers? I think that's it

Word Count: 1,307

Fuck him. Fuck his pretty silver hair that I just want to run my hands through while he eats my ass, his muscular form that must have been crafted by the sage of six paths himself, his beautiful attention catching eye, his mysterious mask, his (what I hope is) insanely large dick. Just fuck the whole thing (I wish).

Of course, the only person you could be thinking of is the one and only Kakashi Hatake, copy ninja of the leaf, and the hottest mother fucker to ever exist. Oh god did you have an obsession with him. Having wet dream after wet dream about him, screaming his name while masturbating, and it doesn't help that you catch him staring at you all the time almost as much as he catches you staring at him.

This whole obsession started a month ago when you saw him reading one of his goddamn sex books in the middle of the street. You walked over to him and asked why he was reading erotica in a VERY public place, and he just looked at you "Because it's hot." he stated matter-of-factly. The nerve of some people, from then on you two would see each other walking around, say hi, go your respective ways. It's been that way ever since; stolen glances and fuck me eyes since.

Until now. You were done with man after man not fulfilling you like you think he may be able to, maybe, it's a complete guess but he just gives off the vibe. Anyway, you saw him reading his demented sex shit again when you decided to make your fantasies a reality once and for all. You walk behind the bench he was sitting on and read the words on the page and HOLY SHIT IT'S GAY RIMMING. You mentally scream into the pillow like a 15-year-old girl who just found out her crush is available, which is kind of like what's going on.

"Uhm, can I help you?" Kakashi questions in his horny inducing voice, with a little annoyance sprinkled in through all the underwear wetting.

"Oh sorry, am I disturbing a public jack off sesh." You coldly state with a smirk on your face, hand doing a little masturbation gesture.

"Do you mind." he says rhetorically, the twinge of annoyance from earlier much more noticeable now.

"If you didn't want someone to talk to you then why are you reading 'that' on a public bench in the middle of the street again?" you sassily question.

"Because I wanted to read outside, privately." He answers, you look at him like he's the dumbest man in the whole world.

"Then why, in the absolute fuck, are you reading in the street you attention whore." you rhetorically ask, the previous sass now developed into genuine frustration as you walk around the bench to be right in front of him.

"That's cute coming from you." he chuckles.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" you ask.

"Don't act dumb, you have been trying to get into my pants for weeks now." he exclaims, you start to blush, ensuring that what he said is true.

"Don't act so high and mighty with me. I've seen you look at me too bitch." you state. He stands up, his large frame completely dwarfing you, his eyes almost angry. You do a cartoonish and audible gulp, the fear enhancing the horniness.

It's quiet for a while until he leans down,

"And what of it" he whispers in your ear and grabs you ass tightly, not caring if anyone sees. You let out a soft yelp at the sudden sign of attraction. You're completely stunned, not knowing what to do. He realizes this and before you can think any more, he holds you close and grabs your ass tighter and whispers,

"My place." It wasn't even a question or a request, it was a demand. One that even given the choice you wouldn't say no to.

Before you know it you're already on your way to Kakashi's place. He's giving you a piggyback ride to save time, and because he wants that juicy cake as quickly as possible, his mind is going crazy with your legs wrapping around him.

Finally, you make it to his place and immediately you both rush into his room. Right when you both enter you get off his back and onto the bed. Your legs spread as he takes off both your pants and underwear and tosses them both to the side.

"Now, turn around and bend over." already making demands and he hasn't even bought you dinner yet, not that you care because without a single moment of hesitation you are already on your hands and knees.

Without warning he immediately put his long skilled digit into your readily awaiting hole. He moves slowly as he starts to open you up. All the while you let out quiet moans.

"Your little moans are so cute." he said. Suddenly you feel a second finger enter you. He stays at the same excruciatingly slow pace. While he's pumping his fingers, he starts to feel the rest of your ass, rubbing it sensually and squeezing at the sensitive skin.

He puts in the third finger and his speed starts to pick up. Now your moans start to get louder as his three fingers stay at a steady and quick speed. He pumps them in and out over and over with precise repetition.

his fingers start to curl inside you, twisting and turning inside you perfectly. It's at this point that you are officially a moaning mess. The all too familiar feeling churns into your stomach. His fingers start turning and hitting your sweet spot consistently.

Then the feeling of relief washes over you as his fingers twist and hit your spot for the final time. You let out a loud moan and crash into the bed, cumming without even him putting his dick in you.

But he wasn't satisfied with just feeling inside you as he picked you up and brought you to your hands and knees again.

"Not yet sweetheart." he says as he starts to rub and massage your ass cheeks, caressing them to his desire. He gives you a quick and sharp spank, you cry out in pleasure from the surprise as he watches you ass jiggle in awe.

He puts his mask down and licks your ass, putting small and harmless love bites from time to time. Each lick and bite getting closer and closer to your hole. You start begging him to just devour you already. "Please, god I've fantasized about this please." you cry out, wanting, no, craving for his tongue.

"Well since you asked so nicely." he calmly states, though you can tell the excitement in his voice, aware that he wants this too. He licks lines on your cheek until FINALLY taking small licks on your entrance. Your spine chills in anticipation and pleasure and your breathing becomes shaky.

He licks languid circles on your entrance slowly. His hands are still caressing the rest of your ass. Your legs are shaking due to the stimulation and your cock is as hard as can be. He stops his simple licking and finally puts his tongue in your ass.

It starts off slowly but develops quickly into a fast pace, his tongue going in and out of you. You are now officially a moaning mess as his tongue is assaulting your hole. He continues this and then starts to put his fingers back in your hole while his mouth is still doing its job.

The familiar feeling in your stomach starts to build up again as his talented hands and mouth works on your asshole. Your moans crescendo until finally you climax for the second time of the night.

And you're not done yet.

THE END

[mynameisjag]

Because I gotta.

Give me the feral man, give me the beastie who has probably been avoiding human contact as much as possible except to get drunk off his ass. This man has no idea of his own universe's tech, you think he has a chance understanding the one he has been kidnapped into? No. Bastard stinky man, feral, sad looking fucker…I adore him.

He needs to be more animalistic.

One would think by now, Wade would have experienced and seen what the multiverse had to offer.

Working with people over seeing different timelines did that.

So did being aware of the ‘audience’ and their many eyes.

Still, watching an almost naked knockoff werewolf scuttled across the room on all fours with what appeared to be a bloody carcass of some kind of animal in his mouth while growling like a demented cat, it was surprising.

“Well, chat, can I ask, what is this r rated looney tunes bullshit? Hey, Tasmanian Devil’s estranged cousin, you better be cleaning this up soon! We just got these floors!”

And Logan was already in the bedroom with his catch, probably hunkered down in his hammock and going to town some poor innocent creature’s remains.

“Whatever, I do cocaine, I have no room to judge.”

Sure enough, stepping over the trail of blood and pushing the door open revealed what he already expected to find. The crunch of bones and squelching of raw meat being chewed on, blown out brown eyes were glaring at him and a gutteral snarl giving warning.

“Easy there, boy, just checking up on ya, seems you brought home dinner for yourself tonight, didn’t even get me anything?”

The snarling stopped and the bloody remains were held out to him, the little head tilt would be cute if not for the smear of gore across his concerned face.

Actually it was still cute.

“Awe, thank you! But I’m good…and he’s going back to eating that, well…I’m going to go throw up now and contemplate the merits of becoming a vegetarian…so…how about a time skip for everyone's sake?”

With a time skip activated, cleaned floors appearing and a still half naked Logan chilling on the couch scratching Mary Puppins behind the ears as she chewed on bone with drool going everywhere.

Some of that drool might be Wade’s but who could blame him, but he had to pull himself together and not be distracted by the feast for the eyes and focus on the feast of the flesh that happened in the bedroom and not the fun type.

“Hey, honey, can we take a minute away from the,” he glanced at the show, “huh, didn’t think that was still going…no, focus Wade…right, Logan, my little murder puppy…the fuck did I just witness?”

“Got hungry, went hunting, ate.”

“Right, and the, not that I’m complaining about the view because I should be taking pictures, but why were you half dressed on all fours, should I be concerned?”

“Easier to hunt…comfortable…”

“Alright…”

Okay, let’s give the big guy a moment…

Shrugging before plopping down nearly on top of the man, Wade just grinned at the sharp look sent his way as Dogpool jumped down and carried her prize off somewhere.

It took two episodes in before Logan huffed, voice barely audible over the TV as he finally spoke.

“…people hated me back home…when they hate you…you tend to be unwelcomed in most if not every place…hotels…bars…stores…”, bare hands were flexing, dark fingernails just slightly pointed and severely cracked, “you get used to the surviving…you get used to avoiding those places…”

Wade reached over to grab one of the hands, flipping it over to trace a pattern in the rough palm, “but they don’t hate you here? You can go in and if they try to stop you or have anything to say about it…then they won’t have a choice in the matter after I visit them.”

The smirk he sent to the ex X-man, wasn’t that a strange combination of words, was met with huff.

“…it’s the crowd of people, the smells, the sounds…it brings back the memories…but staying inside is like a slow torture…hunting and losing myself made it easier to cope.”

“Trust me, if anyone knows anything of trying to make yourself disappear using whatever is available for just a moment of not having to think of what kind of shit haunts you…its me…”

“Hmm…”

“So if being the feral little man you are makes you feel better, just little heads up next time, your hammock is still dripping blood on our new floors.”

[stevelieber]

Thoughts on giving critiques to comics artists.

Seeing lots of discussion from students about sour experiences with an unhelpful art teacher, so here's a long, long post about giving critiques.

NB: I have no formal training as a teacher, but I was a student, and I've spent decades giving artists feedback on their work.

When someone brings me a portfolio, I like to establish my limitations & clarify my perspective. My work is firmly rooted in traditional US comics storytelling (i.e., not manga or art-comics.) I can give feedback on other approaches but they should know where I’m coming from.

“We've only got a little time for this, so I'm going to spend that time focusing on things to correct. That doesn't mean you're doing everything wrong, or that there’s nothing good here, but it’ll be more helpful if I identify some problems and show you how to fix them.”

Why? Because for many young artists their entire sense of self worth is wrapped up in being good at what they do. (It was for me!) In school they were probably the best artist in their peer group. But now if they're hoping to turn pro, they’re at the bottom.

Sometimes you know what’s up when you see page 1, but try to keep an open mind. Some build their portfolios by sticking new pages at the back & don’t weed out the old stuff up front, so the work gets better as you go. When it’s like that I ask: “Show me your best 8 pages.”

I ask questions: "What's the goal? Do you want to be hired to work on someone else's project, or to get the story you're showing me here published?"

If 1, I steer towards a portfolio that'll showcase hirable skills. If 2, I look for what tweaks will make that particular story more effective.

"Do you have teachers giving you regular feedback? What are they telling you?" Sometimes a student is getting bad advice. In cases like that, I'll do my best to be extra clear WHY I'm giving them advice that's 180 degrees from what they've been hearing.

“What artists are you looking at? Is there someone you admire or try to emulate?” This often helps me understand choices they're making, and I can sometimes incorporate things those artists do into my suggestions.

I ask myself questions about what I’m seeing. First: Is there a narrative? If not, I make it 100% clear I'm not speaking as any sort of expert. I'm good at critiquing storytelling, but don't have anywhere near as much to offer illustrators or designers.

Can I follow the story? Or am I confused about what's going on? Are the characters and settings drawn consistently? If not, is the artist at least making use of tags (distinctive clothing, hair etc.) to keep the characters recognizable?

Does the artist demonstrate a good command of basic academic drawing? If not, Do I think they need it? Do I focus on "how to draw" or on "what to do when you can't draw?" Is the artist putting the viewer’s eye where it needs to be to tell the story effectively?

(At this point I’m usually doing little doodles to go with my instructions. I scribble out ugly little 5 second diagrams that I hope will clarify what I’m talking about. Or they might make me seem demented. Hard to say!)

Is the artist making choices that are creating more work than necessary? Is there a particular weakness? I once spoke to an artist with a portfolio full of great work when he was drawing animals and monsters, but his humans were amateurish in comparison. I spent that critique talking about drawing people.

A crit can be a grab bag. In addition to big-picture advice, I'll point out tangencies, violations of the 180-degree rule, wonky anatomy, weird perspective, places where the artist neglected to do important research, odd choices in how they spotted black, whatever catches my eye.

I also try to make a point of defining the terms, so that jargon like “tangency,” “180-degree rule,” and “spotting black” don't go over their heads. Find simple, concrete ways to talk about these things, & clarify why it's a problem when they aren't done correctly. Draw diagrams!

Recognize that even a perfectly phrased explanation might not sink in. Some lessons can only be learned when a student is ready, and it might take a year or two of work before they can understand what you were saying. It's good to plant seeds.

Are there other artists who are particularly good at solving the problems the student is trying to solve? I steer them towards that artist's work. And I always recommend life drawing & the use of reference to give work specificity, variety, and authority.

Despite what I said earlier about focusing on what's wrong, I try at the end to find something encouraging to say. And if I’ve really piled on the criticism, I emphasize that I only spent the time and energy to do so because I take their efforts seriously.

If I've done my job right, they'll leave my table with tools to make their work better. And maybe in a few years they'll be looking at some younger artist's work, surprised to discover just how much you can learn when you're asked to teach.

[theredponcho]

Crazy 6 In The Morning Theory!

I have a theory on why the key in rottmnt is indestructible. The prison demention IS the key or rather the prison demtion is located inside the key.

I have some evidence to back my claim.

Evidence A: The flash back scene.

I can’t find the photo to show what I’m talking about but if you go back in the movie you’ll see what Im about to talk about. In the flash back scene went the great warriors were using the key, instead of showing a visual of a portal sucking up the aliens or the warriors forcing the Krang into a portal or just showing them disappear what do they show us. The Krang all being sucked INTO the key. Now this very well could have just been a stylistic choice but at the same time it could have been intentional.

Evidence B: the whiteboard scene

Again I could not find the image of April and Splinter in front of a white board but luckily for this one I don’t think I need a image to describe what I’m about to talk about. During the movie, the movie tried to make it clear to us the veiwer that the key is indestructible meaning no matter how many lasers you chuck at it the thing will stay right there solid bo scratches no nothing. Now why is that?

In some ways it feels like a design flaw if you were to put a animal in the cage one would think the first thing anyone would do was to get rid of the key to make sure said thing has no means of obtaining it or getting out. The first warriors were the ones to make the key so they probably would have had some means of destroying it or they at least would have thought to hide it in a place no one can obtain it or even better lock it in a different demention like they did with the shredder.

But maybe If the key was litterly the prison demention it would make a lot more since why it would be indestructible. You dont want to destroy the means of where your keeping your prisoners it defeats the purpose. I can also see them wanting to keep a close eye on the key to make sure nothing tried to escape it or break out. Suddenly everything makes a little bit more sense. Also if you were creating a demention out of no where you would need a place to put it. You would want it to be a place thats easy to find and get to at any time and be easy to watch. If you were hiding it you would want the place to seem inconspicuous, somewhere that could be in plain sight, somewhere that no one would think it would be, maybe in a place where it can easily be moved or hidden. So why not put it in something rather then put it somewhere. This way you can always have it be watch 24-7 you can move and hide it easily and no one would think that a whole pocket demention would be in your pocket. For all we know they could have been treating this item like the shredder tea kettle till they died and lost it along the way.

Evidence C: Style

The key has a lot of intrusting design choices litteraly and in a sort of metaphorical figurative sense. The movie makes the key seem very similar to pandora’s box. Once you open it its almost impossible to put all the evils back in that box and you have to live with the consequences.

Also went you first think of a key the first thing that comes to mind is probably your standard house key 🔑 for a lot of people myself included. The designers however decided to make it a clinder like container. Almost like it wasn’t really ment to be a key in the since that you would use it to open a door. It was more of a key in the since that it was the key to solving their alien problems. The key shape kinda reminds me more of one of those time capsules that you would find underground. It looks more like something thats ment to BE opened rather then OPEN something. Like the key wasn’t a key at all instead it was a doorway or a lock. Like a chest or a pringels can.

People also always like to point out that the key looks like a Hawaii teekie item which going back to the last evidence could have been intentional for having it be hidden in plain sight. Sure it looks unusual but I can also see it very much being a decoration piece in someones home or someone using it as some sort of paper weight. I could also see it being passed of as a artifact some one would dig up and put in a museum…wait.

Hope you liked my theory and I rest my case. Feel free to give your own evidence or thoughts I would love to read them.❤️

[mismatchedtwins]

Mismatched Twins AU - Take Three

The silence stretches; his words sink in.

Leo laughs in the face of the uncertainty and confusion, breaking the eye contact to focus on the wound. Adrenaline wakes him up, unleashing a dizzying heat that burns the slimy coating of uncertainty. “You- You are so right. So right. I do not believe you.”

The arm shifts as the turtle shrugs. “After the first few counterparts, you learn to just accept it.”

Leo isn’t going to touch that. “So do I get a real name, or-?”

“That is my real name.”

“No, really, I get it. Haha-! You know way too much about me and my family! The ones on the other side of that locked portal I can’t open, hilarious!” Leo hisses with a mock smile, flashing gritted teeth and trying not to give into the baited frustration.

There’s no way that this guy is pulling this while he’s an entire prison dimension away from the twin that he’s never going to help take over to the world, or the big brother he can’t properly apologize to, or his feisty baby brother that he’s never going to see grow up.

It’s twisted and demented on so many levels.

He shakes his head, swallowing the pain. “Comedic gold or whatever, but there’s no way in this or any other hell that I’m calling you that, so I’d prefer your real name.”

The turtle’s fingers drum against his thigh as Leo waits, determined to get up and leave- aching back or not- if this guy tries to press the inconsiderate and cruel narrative.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Then stop being suck a jerk.” Leo accuses heatedly. His companion shrinks guiltily. The lack of denial otherwise boosts his confidence. “How are you even here?”

“I don’t- know where here is?” The turtle scuffs the ground with his heel. “I didn’t really come by choice.”

It suddenly dawns on Leo that he’s locked himself in a prison for the worst of the worst. He could very easily be assisting another ancient interplanetary mass murderer. But…

As much as the anger swirling in his gut wants to believe that, he can still picture the determination in his eyes as he drew the most deadly creature alive away from Leo’s position. There was no reason for him to save his life or return his sword for him to escape, especially when he had to know that he couldn’t beat him. Krang would have killed him if Leo hadn’t intervened. It was insane.

And he’s the reason that Leo’s not dead.

So, benefit of the doubt, for now.

“It’s some old dimension prison. Made for ugly mc violent back there.” Leo watches his face for any sign of recognition. “Impossible to get into. And out of.”

He chuckles, humorless. “Not for Aeons, I guess.”

“Is… That what you are?” Leo tries, cautiously. “An Eon?”

“Aeon.” The turtle corrects with the dry sound of someone who does it on a daily basis. “And no, I’m not. It’s an alien species. One in my city, hurting my family. It already hurt Splinter.” He pauses, quieting. “She wants to wipe out everything, and she’s using someone I care about to do it.”

Well, that makes two of them, only Leo solved that problem. “So… What are you doing here? Am I going to have to worry about an Eon problem here to-?”

Like he doesn’t have enough to deal with already.

“Aeon. And, I doubt it. She must’ve sent me here because I was getting through.” The turtle finally looks up. Any confidence is gone, leaving a meek uncertainty that makes it really hard for Leo to keep being mad at him. “They’re still in danger. My brothers. Everyone. I know it. I have to get home.”

The story is incredibly far-fetched. And way to similar to his own to not be some forged copy. Not a villain, but possibly a pathological liar.

“So remember that whole, no getting in or out, thing?” Leo asks. “Still true. Place is sealed tight. Nothing’s getting out of here.”

“I am.” He announces, like nothing could be more simple. The sun rises, pizza’s delicious, and this turtle is going to break out of the dimension that the strongest, scariest, most feared alien species in all the universe couldn’t break out of. “I have to.”

“It’s not possible.” He expresses. “It’s actually pretty impossible.”

“Just because no one has done it before doesn’t mean that it can’t be done.” The causal air has Leo shaking his head.

What is his luck lately?

He’s stuck in a dimensional prison with a turtle who has a terrible sense of humor, a suspicious amount of information, and no idea what kind of horror that he’s gotten himself into.

Can’t anything be easy? Doesn’t he deserve that much?

The turtle, who still can’t even look at his injury for more than two seconds, tries to claim. “I’m pretty much a pro at cracking the impossible by now.”

“Some things aren’t supposed to be cracked.” Leo unwraps his own wrist wraps as the turtle watches with a frown, struggling a bit to copy the trick with his sword. “And unless you know anything about ancient mystics, I doubt we’re breaking out anytime soon.”

“Interesting.” He mutters. “Is that what you did? With the blue light and the gateway? Magic?”

“Mystics.” Leo corrects, bringing the arm back within reach. “Geez, don’t you listen? It’s not the hard.”

The turtle opens and shuts his mouth, dumbfound by Leon’s obvious superiority. Sounds like someone needs to do better research. And he tried to call himself a Donatello. Please.

“But the Kraang don’t use… mystics.” The turtle continues. Leo’s heart skips a beat, brain catching up with the accent on the name. “They harness technology. Like the big guy’s suit.”

“Maybe they don’t use mystics, but they sure know how to take it.” Leo snaps as he begins wrapping the wound. “Stupid Krang and his stupid screams- eugh, that’s totally what he’s going to go for next. How did I not know that? That’s just what I need, to lose-”

“OW!” The turtle tears his arm back, clutching it to his chest. He quickly unwraps some of Leo’s admittedly tight work, leaving Leo’s hand blankly extended as he cradles it and pouts, “You always this aggressive with your patients?”

“No.” Leo states, dryly. “Just you.”

“Special treatment.” The turtle mutters. “Goody.”

He gets up on shaky legs, without letting Leo finish, and puts a few steps between them. He gets about one loop around his arm before his attention is drawn away. To what, who knows, but now he’s staring out into the blacks and grays of what’s probably the sky? like it’s the most interesting thing that he’s ever seen.

Blood loss is getting this guy good.

“Heeey, buddy.” Leo snaps a few times and the turtle blinks dazedly.

He looks over and Leo coaxes, “You might want to come sit down.”

“But it’s debris.” The turtle announces, voice high with the eager tint of discovery. Leo blocks out the image of his twin’s sleepy grin as he literally drags him out of bed at three in the morning. “Floating debris!”

“That’s great and all, but you’re not looking too good.’’

The turtle holds up a finger and then picks up a rock from the ground. He throws it into the distance and then ducks down with his hands over his head like a totally sane person. When nothing happens, he opens one eyes, then the other, and then stands with a disappointed sort of, “Oh.”

“How sad,” Leo pacifies carelessly. “Second’s up. C’mere.”

“Everything else is dead. Can physics die?” The turtle asks and then plows through before he gets an answer, “No, no, NO, it’s another dimension with its own properties with its own massive, freaky Kraang and I just need to figure it out. JUST like dimension X. But not.” He looks to the closest edge. “Bad idea to walk off the side?”

“Horrible idea.” Leo’s a frustrating mixture of baffled and amused. Despite every urge to stay grumpy, he can’t help the humor that stirs in his chest. “No, wait, mind chaaange. Go for it. Totally a good idea. Best idea, in fact. Couldn’t be better.”

“Hmm.” The turtle looks at him with these big, debating eyes and then takes a few steps forward and a laugh punches out of Leo ‘cause holy guacamole, he actually just convinced this guy to walk off a cliff. “Wai-wai-wai-wait! Guy! No!”

He’s snickering when the turtle turns back with the most puzzled look, like he has no idea why Leo’s preventing him from launching himself into the black nothingness of the void. “Kidding! Guy, do not do that.”

“I was going to get a head start,” The turtle grumbles as if that should make all the difference. Leo sits up when he doesn’t stop his trek, morbidly curious to see if he’s about to throw himself off the edge. Unfortunately, hot lightning bites down his spine and blurs his vision. He winces, letting his head fall back with a heavy exhale.

He lets his eyes shut, opening them when the pain fades. His heart skips a beat, eyes widening when he realizes that the turtle has disappeared. Eugh boy.

“…Guy?” He reluctantly forces himself to his feet, slow, this time. He grabs his blade and ignores every inch of him that bites and burns. “You better not have gone splat because that’s the last thing that I want to see today.” Leo reaches the edge, slinging his odachi and falling heavily to his knees before peeking over. “I’ve got enough nightmare fuel to last a-AAGGH.”

He shrieks as something grabs his arm and drags him over the side.

He expects to go flying, but his feet somehow manage to find purchase and now he’s simply standing and screaming. His scream slowly tampers off as the turtle stares at him with an eye ridge raised in judgement. Leo wheezes in air, confused, “Wha-?”

“I was thinking.” The turtle muses, cupping his chin and stepping away. “If he’s equipped with a suit, then that stands to reason that they use technology. So there has to be some variation of ship around here somewhere. Or a Kraang base.”

Leo stares at him. He stares back expectantly.

“I think all that’s in here is death and rocks.” Leo rubs his chest with a light wince. Man, he hates standing. And breathing.

But since air is entering his lungs anyway… “Also are we upside down right now? Is this not blowing your mind? Because I feel like you’re not acknowledging how mind blowing this is.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” The turtle admits, ignoring Leo’s mock whisper of “what is your life?” as he adds, “I bet I can find a portal out of here if I just-”

“Guy, you are clearly not paying attention.” Leo folds his hands and points his fingers tips at the stranger. “This is a million-year-old Krang prison. We are prisoners. The only way out is a key that my brothers have, and they’re destroying it and never, ever, ever, ever, eeeeveeerrr-” He draws the word out nice and long to ignore the fear dawning in brown eyes, “-opening this place up ‘cause otherwise Mr. Nightmare Incarnate back there is going to destroy everything.”

As much as the blantant horror has the writhing guilt making him want to throw himself off the edge for utterly ruining someone else’s day, he’s relieved that he’s finally getting through to him.

“You- you mean…” Something changes as he scans Leo’s face, overcome by disbelief. “They just… Left you here?”

And, hey, when it’s said out loud it does sound awful enough that a new physical ache thuds in tune with his heartbeat.

“No way.” He scoffs, smile wide. “I dragged big and mean in here. It’s their job to keep him from getting out.”

The turtle frowns, and Leo recognizes the emotion for what it is: pity.

“But what about you?”

“It’s not about me.” His hand hovers over the belt where his picture sits tucked safely away. “It’s about the world. The universe! Some things are just a lil’ bigger than me.” He chuckles, weak, and keeps a steady watch on the nothing behind the turtle. “They know that.”

The turtle sighs, “There are those days…”

Leo gives him a curious look and his eyes harden, “Which is exactly why I have to get back.”

The turtle looks up and Leo lets his body sag dramatically in disbelief. Which, yeah, it hurt, but what was this guy’s problem? “Guy, you are a really bad listener! Seriously bad! The worst! We’re-”

“TRAPPED! YES!” He whirls. “MY EARS WORK VERY WELL!”

The shift between level-headed and hysterically shrill has Leo both disturbed, impressed, and slightly fearful for his life.

The turtle runs a hand down his face and then kicks at the ground with a vengeful force. Before Leo can decide if he should poke the bear- er, turtle, he’s rambling, “I understand perfectly. I mean, it makes perfect sense! Why shouldn’t the impossibility powerful immortal alien know about a dimensional prison and how to send me to it? Why wouldn’t I get STUCK in here with a creep who likes beating turtles and a turtle who wants to be beaten?”

Leo raises a hand but doesn’t wait to be called on, “I wouldn’t say I-”

“Then WHY are you so against me finding a WAY OUT?!”

Leo’s mouth opens but no words leave. He swallows thickly, blood mingled with spit, and the turtle scowls, “I HAVE to get home. Maybe YOU don’t, but MY brothers need… Me.”

His eyes fall to the ground, energy gone. “They need me, and they all think I’m…”

The turtle doesn’t finish, something raw and dense fogging the air, and then he’s looking back at Leo. Firm. Determined.

“I have to get home.” He decides as Leo tries to recover from the empathic whiplash that he’s being subjected to. “Without me, they probably would do something stupid like locking themselves in a prison dimension with no known back door.”

“Stupid-!” Leo finally finds his voice, only to wince at the sudden wave of too much air in crushed lungs. The turtle pulls out his grapple. “If I have to create a back door, then so be it. I can’t sit around and wait for that giant Krang to hunt me down and finish me off. Not when they need me.”

He looks at Leo, “You seem to know way more about this place than I do. We’d stand a better chance together. If you can get me to my dimension, then I believe I can take you home. If there’s no way out, so be it. I’d rather die trying than lazy.”

“It’s not lazy. It’s rational.” Leo shakes a hand at his side. “You don’t know what I know. If Krang finds you…”

“So I won’t let him.” The turtle bites before he groans, “Look, I won’t stand in your way if you want to sit and wait, but I have places to be. So are you coming or not?

Leo knows the right answer. He’s aching and bruised and cracked in more ways than one. He wasn’t stupid when he dragged Krang in here and he’s not going to be stupid and merely trust that this turtle who knows nothing about mystics is actually going to make it anywhere but back under Krang’s brutal fist.

On the same token- he’s about to leave. He’s about to leave Leo alone to suffer in the expanding dark and echoing silence surrounded by obliteration and death just so Leo can live a few extra hours of misery before Krang inevitably finds him and finishes him off.

He’s probably the only reason that Leo even survived this long…

But. Um. Maybe… Maybe going is what Master Leonardo would do. He’d give this guy a helping hand. Right? The guy’s weird, and probably a stalker, but he’s clearly desperate. It’d be, heroic, of Leo.

It wouldn’t be Leo being selfish. That would him staying.

He’s be being… Selfless. This way. So.

“A’right, guy.” Leo announces as he strolls forward, pretending not to notice him stiffen as he grabs his elbow and points to the loose bandage. “I’ll give you my invaluable company, but only if you stop refusing Dr. Leon M.D.’s treatment. Can’t be your wing man if you’re walking around clipping your own wings.”

“…Deal.” The turtle agrees after a blank stare at his arm, like the fact that green scales were painted scarlet had never crossed his mind.

Leo peels the bandage off. “Great. So sit down.”

The turtle looks at his grapple. “But-”

“Ah-ah-ah!” He tsks. “Sit.”

“Do I really have t-”

Leo shoves the turtle, who yelps as he hits the ground. He points downward like a disapproving master over a naughty dog. “Sit.”

The turtle grimaces, “Fine.”

He grins. “Good boy.”

Previous Current Next

[foiledbyvoile]

HEAD EMPTY, ONLY SILLY DEMENTED DEER MAN.

The last two episodes really got me over here pondering and shit. Didn't think my 2019 Alastor phase would make a comeback, but here we fuckin' are. Seriously though, what is his deal? I love that you can't quite make sense of him, but also I NEED to make sense of him.

SPOILERS AHOY.

Clearly he's somewhat emotionally invested in all this, that little (cute as fuck) scene with nifty the night before the battle showed us a sentimental softness in him, but he's also definitely cozying up to Charlie to use her powers for something big.

Something like breaking a deal he'd made, and I've got money on Lilith. That bad bitch seaside moment was too iconic, she's pulling strings and catching rays, living her best life.

But I need DETAILS, man. I wanna know what the stipulations of the contract are, I wanna know why it was made, what was gained and what was lost, if this deal gave him the power he wields in the first place. What does Alastor need to do to fulfill his end of the deal? I want the nitty gritty of it, man.

Speaking of deals, Alastor and Charlie??? I know we're probably meant to sweep it under the rug, Alastor says not to worry about it, it's not for Charlie's soul, the whole scene was just brushed aside...but what about the desperation he fucking reeked of?? He was beyond eager to make that deal.

Alastor held onto that information for months, waited for the perfect moment, when Charlie was backed into a corner and desperate, and he used that groundbreaking leverage for a favor. That could be anything! Like breaking a deal only someone with her power could, or, since he clearly likes playing the long game, it could be something far less definitive, easier for Charlie to get behind. Something like helping him make his next move.

(Then the next, and the next, and the manipulation continues--ideally, I'm sure. Narrative folly and character development will almost definitely nip that evil scheme in the bud.)

You gotta love that classic Alastor guile when he tells her it's not for her soul. What it really is is a foot in the door for him, and a show of good faith for Charlie. It's a chess move, and if Alastor is as conniving and methodical as I hope he is, it's the equivalence of moving a pawn.

But then he backs up that dubious display of altruism by introducing Charlie to Rosie and the cannibals. Would Alastor really implicate a close friend and her community for something he wasn't truly invested in? That's a genuine question at this point. It's pretty much confirmed in the song that Alastor is choosing to help Charlie, that he sees the potential in her, but again, for his own benefit.

Which brings us to the radio tower, post fight. The vibes I picked up were immaculate. He's incredulous, desperate, shaken and very clearly trapped in circumstances that drive him absolutely insane.

Alastor's all about control. I think back on his spiel to Charlie about maintaining that control with a smile, but even now, when Alastor is cracking under the realization that he doesn't have that, he continues to smile.

I'm really under the impression that Alastor literally cannot stop smiling. (I'm not counting the single-frame-debacle.) It's either that, or he's forcing himself to smile, desperately vying for some semblance of control in a moment where he well and truly has none.

Then there's the line, "Great Alastor Altruist died for his friends". It feels sardonic. Bitter, like he regrets putting himself in that position, but was it really a choice to begin with? Because he let himself get too involved, too comfortable, and realized that that sentimentality he'd developed has become a weakness?

I think he really was forced to protect Charlie and the hotel (it would explain the seven year coincidence, and Alastor appearing at Charlie's doorstep so serendipitously). This is almost cemented by the following line, "I'm hungry for freedom like never before, the constraints of my deal, surely you have a back door."

He almost died (again), for the sake of Charlie and her hotel. That's a helluva fucking thing for a being who's toppled overlords and held power like he has. No amount of entertainment is worth his own life, there's just no way he willingly pits himself against Adam for anyone's sake.

Assuming that the source of his power is also the source of his subjugation, and considering how Alastor openly strives for control--yeah, he's having a bit of a moment™.  

I do hope that there's some genuine conflict in him in regards to his relationship with Charlie and the gang. That everything he's doing isn't inherently selfish anymore, but he veils that 'weakness' under his perpetual guise of deviant mirth. Bonus points if he's tormented by the good Charlie brings out in him. He deserves the angst, the fuzzy-fucker (/affectionate).

Couple of side notes here:

Thoughts on the way Alastor's mouth is sewn up when he strikes the deal with Charlie? Was he made to smile all the time, is it just a design choice? Personally, I'm hoping there's some angsty lore there, like maybe it's part of his contract as some twisted joke, idk.

I have a love/hate relationship with the Alastor vs Adam smackdown extravaganza. Yes, it was rad as fuck. Yes, of course Alastor was going to lose. But the way it was handled felt like a bit of a disservice, Alastor's reaction felt ooc. But then again that could just be me projecting my perspective of Alastor unto the character.

ALSO, having a character who is well known for not swearing dropping some casual, outta pocket f-bombs was a bit trite. it's supposed to feel like a reward, y'know?

ANWAYS. Yeah. Good shit. I'm losing my goddamn mind.

[plausible-possible-perhaps]

can I say. can I say. we are all talking about the ending with Eve because of how much it shows Oz' oedipus complex but him? as a white man ? who has capital and political power? forcibly (cause she got no real choice here) casting Eve, a black woman, in the role of a mother figure? as a completely depersoned vehicle for him to project onto, as a mommy-caretaker for his emotional needs who has to tell him she loves him and is proud of him so she doesn't risk him using his power and status as a white man to hurt her and the marginalised community she's part of? chills. genuinely messed up

Hi, Anon! I really thought Eve was going to somehow make it out, and one thing I've noticed is how Oz often gives his female counterparts a fate worse than death. Francis is now forever stuck with her psychotic son, unable to move or speak (as he also broke his promise to prevent that). Sofia would much rather have died than be sent back to Arkham, but Oz used her as a scapegoat and put her in her own personal he'll. And now Eve, a woman who was basically betrayed by the man she thought she could trust, is essentially being forced into this demented role-play.

It's important to remember how Eve was fully prepared to die for her girls when Sofia visited her apartment. So when she realized Oz enabled their murders, Eve didn't mind selling him out. She is completely sound-of-mind and knows what dangers linger as Oz lives, but she's given no choice but to put on a facade and pretend like she doesn't know anything, pretend that she's his mother and proud of him. So yes, as Selina said in the first movie, the powerful white men of Gotham only care for their own. Oz, despite the sweet way he talks and how he makes it out like he advocates for the discarded, doesn't care about anyone but himself. I think he could know Eve fears/hates him, but as long as she "stays in line," he'll keep her around-- but there is never a doubt that when he's threatened, Oz won't hesitate to throw Eve out to the wolves, just as he did with his own crew, Sofia, and Vic.

He's such a despicable character; he's a rat, a cheat, every name in the book. He lies to others in an attempt to keep up his "man of the people" delusion. He uses all three persuasive techniques, but none of them are true. There is a sliver of myself that wants to believe that Eve is somehow in contact with Selina, and that she won't have to stay hostage forever; hence Sofia's smile while reading the letter, knowing that Oz will never be safe, but I don't know.

ALSO ALSO! I keep hearing about the "Eve is Clayface" theory! Basically, Eve Karlo is the equivalent to Basil Karlo (the original Clayface), and Sofia's comment on which "face" Eve will wear at a given time is quite...interesting. I'm not sure if I believe it, per say, but if it means that another rogue is going to have it out for Oz, I support it!

[crazyvaleska]

Listen To Me | Jerome Valeska x GN! Reader

summary: you are jerome's psychiatrist at arkham asylum and after years of treating him he opens up about his childhood trauma

genre: angst

word count: 8479 (it's a long one folks! so get comfortable and grab ur popcorn & blanket! and tissues.)

warnings: cursing, self harm, mention of sexual assault & domestic abuse, mention of death & suicide, just a lot of angst in general. read at your own risk, you've been warned.

a/n: i started writing this back in august 2022 and finished it just now. been adding small paragraphs to this story every now&then. some paragraphs were written days apart while others were written weeks apart. i'm writing this bc i feel like there aren't many angsty stories with jerome. imo jerome isn't evil but broken. also having read his diary added up a lot to his character as it's pretty depressing. perhaps everyone has a different version of a certain character. here's my version of jerome.

also i got a tiny bit inspired by the harleen graphic novel and the joker movie for this !!

the playlist i was listening to while writing this: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5E2lk49zurRTAaHq3Nz7FQ?si=7TQxYHDsQ0ypPYkIvlLCpw&utm_source=copy-link

jerome's thoughts are written like this btw!

enjoy! (or don't.)

A huge amount of people would say it is impossible to become a psychiatrist at 18. That must mean they've never been to Gotham City. Here anything is possible. Therefore, you had just graduated medical highschool when you were offered a job at Arkham Asylum and you had no choice but to take it. You were aware of the risks of working in a place surrounded by criminally insane lunatics, but you didn't really have another option. You needed a job. Besides, taking risks never ever scared you. Though many viewed Arkham as a spooky place, to you it was interesting. Treating mentally unwell criminals was challenging because you liked helping people, no matter who they were.

What you didn't know was that one of the patients you would have to treat was none other than the infamous Jerome Valeska himself, probably one of the most demented and wicked being Gotham City had ever know.

Yet, you thought his character was rather fascinating. After all, you had known Jerome for years.

Jerome Valeska. How do you even begin to explain Jerome Valeska?

You first met him right after he killed his mother, the first time he was in prison. Before he died. Before he was an infamous murderer. And you had to admit, he did become more intimidating as years passed by.

There was nothing out of the ordinary about him at first, same old story about the son committing matricide. Though, he never told you the entire story. You noticed he was uncomfortable and you didn't want to push, everybody had their boundaries and you respected that.

If you had to describe in one word the way he was acting in his firsts therapy sessions, you would use the word "flirty". Sort of. A mix of charisma and inappropriate jokes.

He told you he didn't plan on killing anyone else, claiming that the murdering of his mother was something personal. For some reason, you chose to believe him. Until Theo Galavan happened. It was like the Jerome you once knew had completely vanished. He was the same and a different person at the same time. You almost felt sorry for him. But then again, you weren't supposed to get attached to your patients. Jerome was charming and all, but he probably didn't feel the same way you did. He was just a kid after all, and so were you. Both 18. The only difference was, you were trying to cure insanity while he was trying to spread it.

A few days later he died. Actually, was murdered. Poor thing, you thought. You wished you had more time to know him. You wished you could've helped him. You knew small parts about him but not his entire story.

You had hoped you would forget him as time flew by, but you didn't. His evil crackle never left your dreams. It was always there. You could hear it all the time, as if he was trying to reach you. It was torturing you. Yet pleasant at the same time. You missed him, truth be told. But you knew he was in a better place now. Or so you thought.

That was until he was resurrected. Being honest, you weren't exactly surprised. This was Gotham City, after all. Everything was possible in Gotham. The actual shock was seeing him faceless and unconscious. You wondered how much strength does one require in order to be able to staple their face without passing out. Jerome's pain tolerance was so high, it concerned you.

By the time the ginger maniac was sent back to the Asylum, his face had been attached back to its place. He was hideously scarred now, wearing a permanent disturbingly bright smile. Although, to you he looked fine. Somehow attractive. You weren't sure why. Maybe it was simply your questionable taste in men. At the same time, he was much more intimidating now, much more grown. And as a result to him dying by being stabbed in the throat, his voice had also changed. It sounded more threatening now.

"It's good to have you back, Jerome!" you said in his first therapy appointment of the year, a warm, kind smile on painted on your lips.

His reply came out natural, "Well, at least someone missed me." but his face was expressionless and emotionless, and his voice numb, as if he had lost his spark.

To most, he was simply just out of his mind, a low-life criminal, but you felt there was more than that. You desperately wanted to know what made him the way he was, what made him turn to a life of crime, because you knew no one was born evil, not even in a city like Gotham (though he wasn't born in Gotham) it was usually the environment that could cause one's insanity. And you could see it in his eyes: he wasn't born bad. He was shaped evil, but not born evil. But then again, anyone could go insane with just one bad day.

Jerome was very charismatic, he could get anyone do whatever he wanted. Nevertheless, he was an amazing liar, you couldn't ever tell when he was speaking the truth and when he wasn't. He didn't seem to care about the way others felt and showed lack of remorse, he was impulsive and manipulative, deceitful and reckless. He was extremely narcissistic and showed lack of empathy towards others, and you had diagnosed him with Psychopathy Cluster B Personality Disorders and Schizophrenia. The ginger was on different medications. Sometimes he didn't take them, other times he did and not only his, but others' as well . You had told him multiple times how that was no good for him, but he never listened.

The thing about Jerome was, you never knew what he would be like in your therapy sessions. Sometimes you felt like you knew Jerome, but did you really? Oftentimes his behavior was passive aggressive, other times he would crack up jokes and you actually enjoyed his company, getting lost into his mesmerizing hazel eyes, as if you two were actually friends. Most of the times he just stayed quiet though, especially if you mentioned his family. Sure, he had no problem talking about killing innocents but once you switched the subject to the murdering of his mom, for example, he would tilt his head and pretend he didn't hear you or just say the same old story about her being mean, but you suspected it wasn't just that, you could see it in his eyes that part of him was still... hurt? His eyes spoke volumes. Although he always tried to hide it by pretending to be a God, deep down he hated himself. But of course he didn't want anyone else to know that, he didn't want to be seen as weak. Not anymore. He knew better than that. You noticed this thing about Jerome, he tried to act unbothered all the time but he always did this head tilting thing whenever he felt uncomfortable. Sure, Jerome was always surrounded by people, mostly his followers, but being around people doesn't mean you actually trust them. And you couldn't blame him for having trust issues considering he was stabbed to death by the only person he ever trusted. You could only imagine the feeling of betrayal he felt. That must have been traumatizing, but he had never ever addressed it.

One rainy Thursday the young Valeska told you he was upset because there wasn't any pudding left at the cafeteria. So the following day, Friday, you came up with an idea that could get you killed, but it was worth a try.

It was getting dark, your shift was over and you were supposed to go home. But instead of heading towards the Asylum's exit you found yourself walking towards its core, towards one certain inmate's cell, inmate E-146's cell: Jerome's cell. You would be lying if you said you weren't nervous, because you were. You didn't have anything to defend yourself on you. If anything, you were aware you were walking towards something that could be mean your sudden death.

You did have to pay bribe to the prison wardens that guarded his cell. They warned you about the homicidal redhead, but you liked to believe you weren't scared of him. To you, Jerome wasn't scary-looking. What really scared you was his mind. You had read his criminal record thus you knew what he was capable of. Even though you tried to tell yourself he won't hurt you, truth was you had no idea what he'd do or say, he was unpredictable.

First time you stepped foot in his cell was an experience you weren't going to forget anytime soon. The room was smaller than you though it would be. Not that you were expecting any kind of luxury. But this was worse than anything you had ever imagined. The first thing you noticed was the extremely low temperature, it was bone-chilling. No wonder why Jerome sounded sick all the time. Four gray walls and a dark ceiling that looked like it could collapse over you at any given moment. A bed for one person that was placed next to a prison porthole and near it a small, cheap table with an old chair in front of it. The smell wasn't very welcoming either, you thought rats were the only thing missing from the picture.

Jerome didn't notice you initially, he was busy writing in something that appeared to be a notebook. You cleared your throat loudly, which made him jump. You caught him off guard, quite literally. He looked equally shocked and confused to see you.

"Whatcha doing here, doc?" the redhead asked as he sat up. He placed the pencil down and closed his book, then took small steps closer to you. Only now that you were both standing up at the same time you noticed how tall he actually was. In the therapy room, his arms were always folded together in a shinny white straightjacket that prevented him from harming the doctor before him. You had actually never seen Jerome with his arms free so close to you before. He was wearing his stripped prison uniform instead of that tight straightjacket and you could tell he was way more muscular than you thought, his hands were enormous, he could knock you out in a second. His looks should've alarmed you but for some reason they didn't. Actually, you were happy to see his body looked healthy. Everybody said he looked like a nightmare, but to you he was the opposite. You shook your head quickly trying not to think of that or anything potentially inappropriate.

You hitched your breath nervously as you took a few steps back. "I told you already, you can call me Y/N... Uh, yesterday you said there wasn't any pudding left for you so I thought I would...um ... I... well," you stuttered while searching for something in your bag. The man raised an eyebrow but stayed silent. You reached your hand out, holding a bowl of chocolate pudding, "I-I... I made it myself! And I paid the guards to leave..." you said in a low murmur.

The unsurety in your voice didn't go unnoticed and it made Jerome grin. He walked even closer to you and crossed his arms while nodding, "That's so brave of you, Y/N! But you do realize I could poke your eyeballs out and squash you like a bug right about.... now!" he hissed. The next thing you felt was your chin being lifted up by his gloved hand, holding it in a tight grip, forcing you to face him. You avoided looking directly into his eyes so you just stared at his hand. Unfortunately for you, that seemed to bother him, "My eyes are up here," he used his free hand to point at his eyes.

The fabric of his white glove was soft but his touch was aggressive and harsh, the clutch on your chin was hard, "... I just... I just came here to give you this, nothing more." At first, Jerome was very sceptical, not believing any of it. He even thought the pudding was poisoned and insisted on you having a try before he did. The rest was history.

That happened approximately one year prior. You had spent the last 12 months seeing Jerome 2 times a week: one time during his therapy appointments every Thursday, the other time every Friday night, when most of the Asylum's staff had gone home. You had stolen they keys to his prison cell and no one knew about your late at night meetings with the clown prince.

The first times everything was pretty awkward, Jerome used to search your bag and pockets for any sharp objects that you could potentially use against him. But with time he stopped doing that. Approximately after 6 months.

You mostly brought him food, especially sweets, Jerome loved candies but he wasn't allowed to eat those in prison. Sometimes you even played cards with him and he would win every game, the boy knew how to play the jokers, that's certain. He did make inappropriate jokes from time to time, but nothing that made you too uncomfortable. He never touched you or anything like that. Everything stayed platonic.

One time you attached a colorful self-made bracelet to his wrist. You had a similar one on yours. Jerome pretend he didn't like it, telling you that friendship jewels were a waste, but truth be told, he liked it, he wore it all the time, he liked playing with it beads. Of course, he made sure it stayed hidden underneath his sleeve. He didn't want anyone else to see him like that. He had a reputation to uphold. Thus sometimes he would threaten your life in a playful manner just because he was Jerome Valeska.

You had also noticed the ginger was great at arts and crafts so you brought him crayons. Lots of them. The previous week you even brought him a scissors after he had begged you to for weeks. He promised he wasn't going to hurt other prisoners with it. He was using those to draw and decorate his diary. You knew he had a personal journal that he had never showed you. But you were cool with that. Though you wished he could open up to you, you didn't want to push, you wanted him to talk to you because he wanted to, not because he had to. All you knew was that you desperately wanted to help him get better. You didn't feel that way about other patients. Obviously, you wanted to help them too, but with Jerome it was different. Not that you would ever admit it out loud, but you had grown some sort of crush on the maniac. You knew how wrong that was, but you couldn't help the way he made you feel everytime his eyes met yours or when he smiled at you. You came to the realization that Jerome wasn't half as bad unless he was surrounded by other loonies or by people he despised. He was quite chill aside from his maniacally laughter.

Although Jerome didn't own a watch, he simply knew what time you were supposed to show up. In fact, he had actually grown to like your little visits. At first he found all of this annoying and irritating, but with time he changed his mind. You weren't so bad after all. Actually, he was waiting impatiently each of your visits. You were nice to him. Not a lot of people were nice to him. Nobody, actually. Just you.

Therefore you being late one certain night didn't go unnoticed. Strange, Jerome thought at first. You had never been late before. Was this all? Did you spend all that time with him only to leave him like that? Did you replace him with another patient? Did you get bored of him? Did something bad happen to you, perhaps?

Jerome shook his head. He didn't like to picture you dead. Why was that? He loved everything about death and killing, blood and gore. Why did it bother him now? He promised himself he wouldn't get attached. No, no, Jerome Valeska didn't give a shit about anyone. He was heartless. A monster. Everybody said so, so then it must be true. So what if you died? Who cared? Not him, that's for sure. Yeah.

But then, why had he been walking circles in his small cell for minutes? Why was he breathing heavier and why did he have an awful gut feeling? And now how did he find himself in this position again? Sitting on his bed, facing the wall with teary eyes, clinching his fists anxiously and twiddling his trembling thumbs. There were drops of dark red blood on his already dirty mattress. Drops of blood between the beads of his bracelet. When did that happen? He could vividly remember when he started pressing the scissors down his wrist. It all happened so fast. He didn't even apply much pressure and yet he had managed to draw enough blood to cover his fingertips. How did he end up like this? Like a sobbing mess. Why did you do this to him? Why did you give him hope? He should've known better. Humans are deceitful beings. They lie and they never keep their promises. One day they love you, the next they don't need you anymore. So he really didn't learn anything from trusting Theo Galavan after all. He remembered it as clear as day. He thought he could finally be happy when Theo came along, gave him a proper bed and proper clothes. He was like the father he never had. But then his life flashed before his eyes as he dropped dead by the hand of the one man he thought was trustworthy.

Oh, dear ol' Jerome. Getting attached to the first person to treat him like a normal human being again. So all those times you took care of him were all on act. Of course. Why was he so stupid? Stupid enough to think anyone would ever care about him. Of course it was all a lie. He hated you. This was pathetic. Everyone was pathetic. Crying was pathetic. Crying was for the weak. Jerome wasn't weak. Not anymore. But what if, perhaps, you weren't even real? What if he had been imagining you the whole time? After all, it was all too good to be true. But maybe that's just the way life is: it hits you harder than a train truck, then you feel good for a while because you start doing things that distract you from how you truly feel, killings in his case. But then you realize you weren't ever really happy, just delusional and that makes you depressed again. It's like a never ending loop.

The boy shivered at his own thoughts. So many questions at the same time. His mind was suffocating him. But he liked it, didn't he? Or maybe did he just trick himself into thinking he liked it? He liked being sick, right? Who was he without his sickness? Pills. He needed more pills. The pills were never enough. If only he had enough pills to...

His train of thoughts was interrupted by the very familiar sound of his creaky door being unlocked then opened. Jerome knew this could mean one thing. He quickly wiped his teary eyes with his knuckles then clothed his fingers with his gloves. He cleared his throat, "Where were you?" he asked, his voice harsher than ever. He didn't want you to see him vulnerable. He tried to hide it. He didn't want to admit not even to himself he was somewhat worried. But, in fact, he had grown very fond of you. He wasn't sure why, he wasn't sure what he felt towards you. There's a very thin line between love and obsession. All in all, part of him was relieved once he heard your voice.

"I'm sorry, Jerome. I had some things to take care of. Things that involve you, actually," you closed the door behind you and took a few steps forward.

The last sentence got Jerome's attention so naturally he turned his head around to look at you. His stare was so intense it seemed like he was staring directly into your soul. His hazel eyes were so beautiful yet so terrifying, you couldn't stare at them for too long. The dark circles under his eyes were darker than ever and you wondered if he ever slept. It was your job to help him get better but it seemed that he was getting worse everyday, like he was losing himself therefore you were failing. But you had to pull him out of his misery. You had to.

"You threatened Oswald Cobblepot," Jerome couldn't help but snicker proudly at your remark before you could continue your sentence "And you also took his medicine. How many times have I told you that taking meds you don't need only makes things worse?" you paused but the boy didn't reply. He knew it was bad, he just couldn't help himself. You sighed "They want to change your therapist, Jerome. They don't think I'm doing a good job with you."

Jerome's face dropped, "As in you'll be replaced?" he asked and you nodded. No, this wasn't possible. You were lying, you had to be. First you're late, now this. The redhead jumped out of his bed and walked up to you, "You're lying."

"Jerome-" you started but he didn't let you finish.

"Don't you dare to Jerome me. You're an hour late and now you're telling me you wanna get rid of me?" his tone went from numb to mad in a matter of seconds.

"I'm so sorry for the waiting, I'll try my best to keep you. I promise! Cross my heart and hope to die."

That only made Jerome crackle in an ironic manner "Oh please, Y/N. Don't make promises you know you can't keep. Empty promises. You're growing tired of me. It's funny, actually. I think this may be just my luck! Jeremiah promised he wouldn't leave too, but he did anyhow. And now you."

"Who's Jeremiah? I don't know what you're talking abo..." you felt like you couldn't breathe as panick took control over your body, "...why is there blood on your gloves?"

Shit, Jerome thought. "It's paint," he smiled but you knew he was lying the moment he tried to change the subject "Jeremiah's an old acquaintance, if you will."

"I never brought you paint..." you murmured. Then you remembered what you did bring him. The scissors. "You promised you won't hurt anyone with it..." you whispered.

Jerome shrugged, "I promised I wouldn't other inmates. I never promised I wouldn't hurt... myself...!"

Your eyes opened widely at the sudden realization. You covered your mouth with your fingers and your heart was beating impossibly fast while tears were filling your eyes. It was only now that you noticed his slightly puffy eyes too, "I'm so sorry... Jerome... oh God..." you muttered. He didn't look at you until he felt your hand on his.

Jerome hesitated to speak at first, "Oh, y'know... the scissors just slipped. I'm fine, really. No need to worry about me. If anything, I like bleeding out."

You knew that wasn't true. "I'm gonna get the doctor... we need to get it patched up."

"Then they'll know you're here."

"I don't care. I'll probably lose my job anyway. You hurt yourself, Jerome. You could get an infection. Fuck, I was supposed to help you get better but I didn't do shit! Now you're bleeding and it's all because of me-" you were cut off by Jerome's gloved hand covering your mouth.

"Shh. I'm fine, Y/N. It's not that serious. It's just... I don't feel safe when my scars are healed. I need to bleed to calm myself. It's like a part of me. It's my biggest comfort."

You tried to mumble something underneath his hand which made him frown, "I don't need your pity, Y/N. You're trying to weaken me, it won't work," he moved his hand, giving you the chance to speak.

"Please, Jerome. I care about you! I won't let you hurt yourself any longer!" you cried out. It was true. You would've done anything for him and it hurt you knowing he was harming himself. He thought he had it all under control but clearly he didn't. You were scared of what he could do to himself next. You couldn't just watch him destroying himself knowing you could've helped him.

Jerome shook his head repeatedly and covered his ears with his plams while circling around the room, mumbling things to himself. Eventually, his voice got louder and louder, "NO NO NO NO NO! No, you don't, stop saying that! Cut the bullshit, Y/N! You don't care about me, no one does! Jerome has no one, Jerome's all alone! It's how it's always been. It's how it's always gonna be. What the fuck do you want from me? Look at me! I have wanted to die for as long as I can remember. And guess what? When I finally did some jerks thought it'd be funny to bring me back to this shitty life! You think you understand me, but you don't! You can't save me, you can't fix me! What have you done to me? You cracked me! Just leave me alone! Leave me alone! LEAVE. ME. ALONE!!!" he yelled as he shed a single tear.

His face turned red from all the rage and you could swear he was gonna kill you at that very moment, but he didn't. Instead, his body collapsed on the ground. He was hugging his knees while staring at the floor, with his back pressed against the cold wall. You had no clue what just happened but he looked defenseless, practically harmless right now. You knew this was risky, but you kneeled next to him then reached out your hand and caressed his shoulders which caused him to look at you. You didn't see a psychopath in his eyes anymore, just a frightened child. That wasn't the ginger maniac everybody feared. That was a poor boy stuck in his traumatic past.

"Let it out, Jerome. This is why I came here, so we could talk like 2 human beings. Help me understand you. I know I can't take your pain away, but you can talk to me," you whispered.

"I'm not a human being. I'm a monster, can't you see? Everybody fears me. I'm the monster parents tell their children about," he muttered quietly. Usually he said that proudly, but now it sounded as if he was ashamed, which was very out of character. What he felt at that very moment was confusion.

"You're not a monster, Jerome. I have this feeling that... you're misunderstood, like no one ever listened to what you had to say. I am here to listen and I promise I won't laugh or judge. But if you hold everything inside you it's only gonna get worse... Let it all out, please." you spoke in a soft murmur.

"I don't even know.... what I am supposed to say," Jerome sobbed.

"Anything that comes to mind, that upsets you, that you wanna get off your chest. What is that one thought that won't let you get rest at night? The things you always wanted to say but nobody ever listened to. The things you always tried to forget because it all hurt too much. I can see the depth and complicity of your character, Jerome. You're not evil. Your past is haunting you, isn't it? I can see it in your face, it was rough. So please, I just want to help you. And I won't tell anyone, you have my word."

The ginger glanced at you with furrowed brows, trying to keep track of his thoughts. He felt something he hadn't felt in a very, very long time. He felt helpless and he didn't know why. He didn't know why he suddenly no longer felt in control. Was it because you were the first person to actually look at his wounds concerned instead of laughing? Because you were willing to actually listen to what he had to say? No one had ever told him that before. Except for you. But he couldn't bring himself to entirely believe anyone could actually care about him. His chest was hurting and his heart was aching. He was tired of hiding.

"... okay, I'll tell you everything," he nodded his head eventually, "but I'll never tell this story again so you better be all ears."

You nodded while caressing his once-so-soft-cheek slowly. Initially he shuddered, then he closed his eyes and leaned in your touch, giving you permission to carry on. Tracing your fingers on his cold pale skin made you feel his every scar, but his scars didn't scare you, they never did. You could tell he wasn't used to this kind of stuff. He wasn't used to people treating him like a normal human being. He wasn't used to being touched unless the touch was meant to harm him. He hadn't even started talking but you just knew something terrible was about to come out of his mouth.

The man took a deep breath. He knew that once he started speaking he wouldn't be able to stop. He had been holding all in for so long, it all came out like word vomit.

"Jeremiah is my twin brother. He was always mother's favorite. Mother. Can I even call her that? No, she was never my mom. Lila Valeska never loved me. She never treated me like her son, not even when I was a baby. She had only one son and that was Jeremiah. I was just... there. Like a nephew she had to take care of or something. But not a son, no. She always said I ruined her life. Yeah, like it's my fault she had unprotected sex. But I could never understand why she praised Jeremiah all the time. What was so special about him? What was he doing so much better than me to get that kind of appreciation from mama when we were just 5 years old? I can only remember he was into maths and puzzles and that kind of shits from a young age. He pissed the hell out of me. But I didn't hate him. I mean, at the end of the day he was still my brother. And sometimes he would hold me while that whore was busy banging clowns the next room, assuring me that everything would be alright and that mother didn't actually hate me, promising me that one day we'll get out of the circus and live our best lives. What a dirty little liar...! And to think I actually used to believe his empty promises... Until he turned his back on me."

Jerome paused. His eyes were now filled with anger, you could tell he didn't like his brother much. Then he continued.

"It happened once we turned 7. Lila had hit me multiple times and I don't even remember what was the reason, but then again, it's not like she ever needed a reason to hurt me. Before this it was usually just slaps, but this time it was a proper beating. The sadness mixed with anger I felt at the time were too much to handle for a little boy. I had to somehow let it out, y'know? So... I started mutilating small animals. Soon I grew an interest in murdering them. And it felt... therapeutic. I know I should feel ashamed of this, but I don't. I never did. Hell, I even pretended they were her because I knew I wasn't strong enough to actually hurt her back. How fucked up I must've been to behave this way at 7, right? But things got complicated when Jeremiah found out. He said," Jerome talked in two different thin voices the next parts:

"... ' I understand your anger, 'Romie! I think it's quite interesting, really! '

I actually believed him and replied happily ' You think so, 'Miah? But please don't tell 'ma, she'll get really mad at me! My cheek still hurts from the last slap she gave me! '

' I would never! She hits me too sometimes, you know. But I don't know why she's so mean to you all the time! '..."

Jerome cleared his throat and went back to his usual tone "Well, he kept his promise, kinda. He didn't tell our mother but he told uncle Zach ―and let me tell you this― he was the WORST. Such cruelness in one man. He used to cook food for the other circus members, but he was an ex prisoner, spent years in jail for robbery and rape. Yeah, that's my fucked up uncle. He was a cook and yet I was always left to starve. Mind you but I used to be underweight 'cause of that.

Anyway ...! Dear ol' Zach thought I had gone psychopathic when little 'Miah showed him the dead animals' corpses, so he made sure he worked me over. And, of course, Lila made sure of that as well. And as if those injuries weren't enough, Jeremiah saw this as a perfect opportunity to leave the circus. He started spreading rumors about me kickin' and punching him, feeding my mom and uncle with funny stories about me threatening his life, when the truth is I never touched a hair of his. For him, those were the stories that were gonna get him out of that damned place we so called home. For me, those were the stories that were gonna ruin my life. Even though I tried to defend myself they never believed me, because after all I was the animal abuser while he was the perfect innocent son, with his little nerdy hamster glasses and fancy books and puzzles. And let's just say, it didn't end well for me when he would randomly bring up something that didn't even happen. He had totally brainwashed them and I was lucky if I could get away with just a slap or two. But they didn't abuse me just physically... verbally as well. The amount of times I heard them planning my murdering were countless. And maybe they should have done it. Maybe they should have murdered me. Instead, they used to remind me every single day that I was such a heartless psycho monster who's gonna cause nothing but disaster. Well, I guess they weren't exactly wrong with that one. I mean, just look at me now..." he narrowed his eyes.

"Nobody ever stood up for me. Nobody cared. Nobody. They always managed to cover it all up, they always told me to smile once they were done. I was known as Haly's Circus little sociopath. And Jeremiah? They'd always make sure he was treated right, that he got the best stuff, while I could be freezing at night and they wouldn't even notice.

On our 9th birthday our uncle decided to take Jeremiah to the city away from me so he could celebrate his birthday properly and left me with my mom and her partner at the time. The got drunk and had sex all day, not caring that I was in the same room, beating the shit out of me afterwards. And when I had finally managed to get out of that hell of a trailer, my father ―I didn't know he was my father back then, but he knew I was his son― didn't even try to comfort me, he simply told me to suck it up because nobody cared. And he was right. This world indeed doesn't care about me or anyone else. But for a child? Damn, that hurt. And I suppose it's even sadder now knowing he was my dad...

Moving on, by the time we were almost 10 his lies got worse and worse, and so were the beatings. According to him I had tried to poison him and to light his bed on fire. One time he injured his knee when he fell on the ground, but later lied about me pushing him down the stairs. But the last straw was when he lied about me holding a cake knife to his throat on our 10th birthday. My uncle almost broke my ribs for that and my mom repeatedly kicked my stomach with her legs. Honestly, I can't really remember that day. All I know is that they decided it would be the best if uncle Zach took Jeremiah away while I was asleep. And I'm not gonna lie, I was pleased when I saw they both left, but little did I know that it was only gonna get worse for me.

Haly's Circus is a nightmare dressed like a daydream. A lot of fucked up things happened there. I hated that place. And with Jeremiah gone, she started drinking more and more, and got more aggressive. She got pissed at every little thing I did and made sure I received punishment. Did I forget to do that dishes? She'd kick me. Forgot to take out the trash? She'd slap me across the face. Didn't feed her snake? She'd punch me. Was breathing too heavily for her liking or my existence simply bothered her? She'd beat me till my vision was blurry or till I coughed in my own blood. I did try to get help from the cops, but guess what! They didn't give 2 shits! Ya see, the system is so corrupt they don't care unless someone's been murdered. They made fun of me and I understood no one could ever save me, I was the only one that could free myself from the pain."

You stood quiet when Jerome removed his gloves. You hadn't seen his hands unclothed in a very, very long time. Last time you saw his bare fingers was before he died. His veins were more noticeable now, among with multiple half healed blueish bruises he had probably given himself. Seeing Jerome without his gloves felt like him breaking a wall between the two of you. Like he trusted you. Like he trusted you enough for you to see him at his lowest. He needed to trust you enough to tell you everything. The scarred man was silent for a brief moment, trying to find the right words to describe the next part of his story that made you feel like throwing up.

"On my 14th birthday one of Lila's hookers...how do I say this... one of her hookers touched me, Y/N. Like, parts he shouldn't have touched... And... she was there, watching. She didn't do anything to stop him, she didn't even try. I was crying and screaming and begging her to make him stop. She just laughed. Her awful witch-like laugh followed by her favorite line: ' shut up! boys don't cry! '. And afterwards she just left with him for the night and before that she told me to smile. Smile. I felt so embarrassed and ashamed. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I couldn't feel my body. The only thing I could feel were his hands all over my body... To put it into words, I felt worthless and helpless. Smile," Jerome smiled weakly through the tears as he repeated his mother's words, hugging his own body, "Smile. I was smiling that night. I was smiling when I tried to kill myself. It was all too much, I couldn't handle it. My life was a living Hell I started to believe Hell itself couldn't be that bad. So... I just took a bunch of her pills and I thought that was it, I thought I was finally gonna die. I smiled because I thought everything was finally going to end. Sadly, I survived. After taking the pills I dropped down to my knees and then... I don't know. I can't really remember anything except the fact I woke up with a terrible headache. Did she notice? Nope. Did those pills have had an effect on me? Absolutely.

I didn't have anyone to comfort me anymore. Not that Jeremiah was ever a great comfort, but it was better than nothing. I didn't have any friends, 'cause who would wanna befriend the freak who tried to murder his twin and massacred tons of pets? And if anyone tried to get close to me I would push them away. Literally. Push them. Because what was the point in denying my violent urges? Everybody thought I was the villain already anyway."

Jerome paused to blow his nose into a handkerchief you handed him. You were at loss of words. This was a lot to process and Jerome's voice was now shaky. It was painful to hear his life story, it was painful to look at him now, to stare at the helplessness in his eyes. Tough people always have the most heartbreaking pasts.

"I used to cry myself to sleep every night, but I barely managed to fall asleep knowing that she could strangulate me when her snake in my sleep, and I low-key hoped she would so my suffering could end already. But when I did manage to fall asleep I ended up getting a... What was that called? Oh yeah, sleep paralysis. She was the demon suffocating me. Even now... I can't ever properly fall asleep. I'm always half awake. Actually forget I said that... Stupid! stupid...." he cried while gripping on his ginger hairs, scratching his thin pale skin with his sharp nails.

"Jerome," you whispered and took his hands in yours, "it's not stupid. Your emotions are valid. Please, carry on."

The boy nodded and did as you said, "At some point I just stopped talking because my body was hurting so much. I started isolating myself from everything and everyone. Because you see, people like me, we're put in this world for one thing: to suffer. The only thing that made the pain go away for a while was the thought of torturing her, cutting her open and feeding her snake with her organs then bathing in a pool of her blood and maybe sending her bones to Jeremiah. All I know is that I was so sick and tired of her calling me names and spitting on my face, beating me up till I bled, abusing me, banging my head against the wall, ripping my hairs off, punching me with her cold fists, slapping and pinching my skin, throwing empty alcohol bottles at me and kicking my bones. And when she was done with beating me, she'd always call over one of her sex partners to have some fun. I was tired of having to hear her moans as she was getting railed the next room. But I knew better than disturbing her, because if I did she'd invite her lovers to beat me too... or worse. I just had to keep quiet because if I behaved she'd leave me alone for a day or two.

But in time I got used to it. The beatings and all. It didn't even hurt that much anymore. The psychical wounds healed eventually, but the emotionally ones were always there. She didn't even need to get physical, her words were enough to torture me, they were like poisson. Her words cut deeper than a knife. When she wasn't the one hurting me I was hurting myself. That's so messed up, I know. But what isn't messed up about me or my life? I just couldn't help it. I had grown addicted to watching myself bleed. It's like... that was my only comfort. My sadness, my pain... Bugs. There were bugs on my skin, crawling on it. One second they were there, the next they weren't. I had to peel some of my skin off just to make sure. But I liked it. I think. It looked pretty. Such a pretty shade of red...! I could've stared at it for hours. Don't know if I was high or if I just had lost touch with reality. Or maybe both.

I just wished she would just kill me already and be done with it, 'cause it was better to be dead than to be alive and suffering. I just wished that everything would go quiet once and for all. My mind was like a prison I could not escape. My mind was the darkest place. The negative thoughts, they were always there. The voices telling me to do horrible things to myself. People screaming. A thousand voices howling in my head all the time. Dead people. I saw dead people everywhere. I couldn't control it.

Nobody cared about me, so who would've noticed if one day I just disappeared from this world? If one day I just stopped breathing? Definitely not her. If anything, she'd beat my corpse. I mean, she didn't even notice my first attempt.

That's what I told myself as I tried to slash my veins. But then I heard it," his face suddenly lit up, "That voice. The voice. The only comfort I ever had was that voice in the back of my head. That voice that grew louder as the years passed by. That voice that was giving me hope saying ' your day will come, your revenge will come, you just have to be patient '. And I had done my waiting. All the suffering, all the abuse I was forced to endure were about the end. I wasn't gonna let her win. Little did that whore know her beatings gave me strength and a high pain tolerance. Suddenly, all the fear I ever felt towards her turned into hatred and anger. She was going to pay for everything she had ever made me go through. People call me insane but they don't know my insanity gave me strength to save myself from that Hell I used to call home.

So, by the time I was 16 I had already started planning her murdering. I started working out and made better meals for myself so I'd be sure I was stronger than she was. I wanted to no longer be skinny. I had also made the perfect plan to kill her and get away with it.

So on my 18th birthday, like a birthday gift for myself, if you will, I grabbed an axe and chopped her off, hitting her repeatedly with it, digging it up and down into her skin. The first stab was the hardest one, but once I saw blood drawing out I just couldn't stop. I laughed as I did. Seeing her like that, lifeless and all covered in blood made me shiver in a good way. It was like feeling a brand new emotion. I was...happy? Entertained? I had finally given in that voice, I was finally free! That day I promised myself that I would come after my brother and uncle too, they also needed to pay for the way they'd treated me. And after that I'd be finally free to kill myself... I know how fucked up that sounds, but now that you know what they put me through, I hope you understand why I had to do it. There was no other way. One of us had to go. I killed her because she deserved it, self defense really. You get it, right? Tell me you get it, please."

You nodded while massaging his thumbs. His eyes were red and so were yours. You were both crying. Jerome couldn't believe he just told you all of that. He had never told anyone about any of that before. Did he say too much? Did you not want to be near him anymore?

"Jerome, I don't even know where to begin... you are such a strong person, really. You didn't deserve what happened to you. It wasn't your fault. You were just a child, none of this was your fault. No one ever treated you like a human being. No one ever gave you a chance. It's like you were forced to be evil, you didn't have a choice. They made you evil. They turned you into the villain. Of course you snapped eventually. I can't blame you. I would've done the same if I were in your shoes. No one ever gave you the chance to tell the full story. I wish I could take it away. All the pain, all the suffering... Oh, Jerome... I can't even begin to describe how bad I feel for you. Your heart has endured way too much at a way too young age. It's not you who is the monster. It's them. You had and have every right to kill them, I'll even help you. Jerome... I'm so proud of you for staying alive. Jerome, please remember that you matter. You matter to me. I see you, Jerome. I see you for who you are. Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are? You are a very, very handsome boy."

"Even with the scars?"Jerome smiled, his eyes puffy from crying. Not a threatening or disturbing smile. A genuine smile that made you smile too.

"Absolutely. Your scars just show how strong you are. Your scars make you prettier. I myself ain't a strong person but... I won't let anyone hurt you anymore, you've been through enough. And I won't let you hurt yourself either. Because I care. And you can trust me with anything, Jerome. Let me be the one person that makes you feel like home. Please." you got lost in his gaze. Words weren't enough to express what you felt. So you just hugged him. A gentle, loving hug. Jerome wasn't a touchy person in general, but he gave in and hurled himself into your warm embrace. Soon he was holding you so close to him like he was never going to let you go. Then he cried more. And louder. He cried on your shoulder and you patted his back. This was all new to him, he was still confused by the way he was acting. But it just felt right. He felt safe at last. He wondered if you were an angel sent from Heaven to rescue him. You scooped him up in your arms. Yours arms were tight around him, his head on your chest. He needed this. He needed to feel okay. He needed feel loved and accepted. You held each other for so long you could feel each other's breathing, and you weren't going to let go of each other anytime soon.

"Thank you for listening."