#poke or stab his spine

[screwpinecaprice]

I know it’s not a question but i can’t help but appreciate the fact that you draw adult Steven as a chubby guy! We big boys need some positive representation in here. Also, i’ve been following you for almost a year now!

Btw sorry for my English lol.

Hi! It's very pleasing to know you've been around for as long! 😁😁😁 I absolutely appreciate the appreciation! And no worries, your English is super fine! 😁 (Relatable actually. I am also apologizing in advance if I can't exactly have my point clearly across because I'm not well at English myself! lmao)

It took me quite some time to learn how to draw chubby characters but it's so satisfying to have eventually. ( *`u*) (I mean, there's still so much to learn, but still.)

Having a chubby main protagonist is so wonderful to have. And a good kid at that. (Ngl I'm attracted to kindness. haha So of course it's very important to me that he's fat AND kind.)

Also design-wise, I personally think it fits his character so well. Soft and huggable, shaped like a friend. Thick arms to hug people with snuggly. Body wide like a shield. etc. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And I just really like to capture these elements when I draw him as an adult. Also that it's just fun to draw.

Simply personal thoughts about it, nothing against any other ways he's being portrayed by others of course.

[ddejavvu]

Hi, saw you said stranger things requests and I have one !! Steve and reader going to a party, and he accidentally spills his drink on her short and he panics because he thinks of what happened with Nancy and reader ends up having to comfort him with vodka all over her shirt :,) thank you

From the minute the bronze liquid comes in contact with your cream top, Steve's already reacting strangely. It's like a live wire stabbed through the base of his spine, shooting heated sparks towards his shoulders that tense.

"Hey, I- I'm sorry," He stammers, trying to set the now half-empty cup onto the counter. It doesn't work, and the cup falls to the ground, splashing this time over your feet. You take a hasty step back, and Steve's hands reach out to catch you with too strong of a grip.

"No, don't- I'm sorry," One glance into his eyes and they're alive with the same fever that's tripping up his words, "I'm sorry, don't go, please. Just- just come into the kitchen, please?"

"It's sticky here," You raise and lower your foot a few times, music not helping you assess the situation as it booms in your ears, "Steve, you're-" You grimace at the tight hold of his large hands, "You're squeezing a bit, Steve, let me go."

You try to pull away from him, but that only makes it worse. He holds tighter, pulls harder, and you have to grab his own arm to maneuver him a different way around the island.

"Okay- okay! Just- come this way, god," You hiss, "Steve, 's starting to hurt."

Then you're the only one holding up the embrace; he's dropped you like you're on fire. You don't have time to ponder why, you just keep dragging him through the sea of partygoers and into the semi-isolated kitchen.

"'Kay, can you get some paper towels?" You turn on the faucet, water running cold as you assess the damage to your shirt. When no reply comes, you turn back to Steve, finding him lingering right where you'd left him, his face pale.

"Steve? The paper towels?" You try again, to no avail.

"Steve," You shut off the faucet, feeling liquor slosh through your socks as you step over to him, "What's the matter? Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry. For- ruining your shirt, and squeezing.. too tight."

"It's okay," You hum cautiously, "I can wash it. And it's not like you bruised me. Paper towels?"

"I didn't mean to." He promises, his big brown eyes still blown wide open, "I really didn't. And I can pay for the- for the shirt, like- dry cleaning. I promise. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," You promise, "Steve, it's just a shirt. It's okay, I just need paper towels."

Your prolonged reassurances seem to set him straight, and he looks like a robot rebooting. His eyes flash with something unreadable and he snaps to attention, stumbling backwards and trying to maneuver the unfamiliar kitchen.

"Right. Right, uh- paper towels. They're- here!"

He brandishes the roll towards you almost aggressively, and you wet three beneath the water you've turned back on. He takes the wad from your hand before you can apply it to your stained shirt, dabbing gently at the remains of his solo cup.

"Sorry," He breathes, tongue poking out from between his lips as he focuses on rubbing the stain away.

"It's okay." You remind him, craning your neck up to kiss at his chin. He still looks pale, like he's recovering from a brush with death, but at the feeling of your lips against his chin he looks up at you, and the corners of his lips quirk up into a weak smile.

"It's- uh, not coming out." He murmurs, "I'll have it dry-cleaned, um, tomorrow, I'll take it, and-"

"Okay. We'll figure something out." You keep your voice soothing, although you don't know why you need to, "It's okay, Steve. Hey, do you wanna just go home? We could do a movie night instead - get away from the noise and the people, and I could change my clothes."

"Yeah," He flounders slightly, hand still working to scrub the alcohol off of your shirt, "Yeah, uh- where...?"

"Your place," You decide, "If you don't mind me wearing your shirt?"

His eyes shine now, and his smile seems less rickety, "Yeah. No! No- I don't mind it. My place, and- and my shirt."

[bangchansdirty-slut]

Bangchan stabs a knife into the mattress and makes you ride the handle

(please..)

Drive Me Insane

Paring: Top!Bang Chan x Bottom!Male reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Chan hates it when you act like a total slut for attention.

More: Masterlist

A/n: Sorry that there's not that much dialogue. I find it a little hard to write dialogue for smut (But I'm working on it) 😅. Requests are open!

Bang Chan's fingers danced over the laptop keyboard, his brow furrowed as he tried to focus on his boss and other employees in front of him. His mind, however, was elsewhere. His gaze kept drifting to the bedroom door, where he could hear the unmistakable sounds of their mattress creaking and his husband's breathy moans filling the air. The tension built up inside him like a pressure cooker, and he couldn't help but feel a mixture of anger, frustration, and desire.

He glanced at the clock, noting that they still had another hour left in the Zoom meeting. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't take it anymore. With a deep breath, he ended the call abruptly and stormed into the bedroom, his heart racing and his blood pumping. There he found his husband, his back arched and his hips thrusting rhythmically on his own fingers, his other hand tangled in his own hair as he moaned Bang Chan's name.

The anger inside him boiled over, and he grabbed the sharpest knife from the kitchen, intent on teaching his husband a lesson. He stormed back into the bedroom, holding the knife above his head, and plunged it deep into their mattress. It went in with a satisfying thud, the handle poking out at an angle, ready for someone to ride it. He stared at his husband, chest heaving, waiting for the realization of what he had done to sink in.

You looked up at him, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. "Chris? Wh-What did you do?" you slowly slid your hands down the bed, still looking at the knife handle poking out of the mattress. Your cheeks flushed red, and a shiver ran down his spine.

Bang Chan felt a surge of power course through him. He couldn't believe his husband was actually enjoying this. "I did this because I'm sick of you doing this," he growled, gesturing to the bed. "I'm sick of you being so needy, so slutty. I want you to feel what it's like."

You swallowed hard, looking conflicted for a moment before your expression hardened. You slowly climb over to the knife, straddling the knife handle. your cock is already hard, and you begin to grind against it, moaning softly. "Is that what you want, Chris?" you pant, your eyes locked on Chan. "You want me to ride your little knife?"

Bang Chan's heart skips a beat at the sight of his husband's cock throbbing against the knife handle. He wants to tell him no, to make him stop, but the sight of his husband's submission, his desire… it's too much. He can't look away.

You lean forward, his hands gripping the bed sheets, and begin to ride the knife's handle. your hips move in a steady rhythm, your breath coming out in ragged gasps.

Chan watches in awe as his husband takes control of the situation, asserting his dominance over the knife and the bed. It's a power play that he never knew his husband was capable of, and it's driving him wild. He can feel his own desire building inside him, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. He wants to join in, to feel the knife handle thrusting inside him, to feel his husband's weight pressing down on him.

Your breath comes out in ragged gasps, Your body tensing as you are near climax. your hips buck wildly, the knife handle digging deeper into the mattress with each thrust. Bang Chan can't take it anymore. He goes onto the bed, takes his husband off the knife, and places the knife on the side table, which you whine at.

Their bodies are pressed together, sweat glistening on their skin. You lean forward, their lips meeting in a hungry kiss. Chan's tongue darts out, seeking entry into his husband's mouth, and when it finds purchase, he thrusts it deep, tasting his husband's desire. Their hands roam over each other's bodies, seeking out pleasure, finding it in the other's touch.

Chan groans into the kiss, his hips grinding against his husband's. He reaches down, gripping his erection, and gives it a firm stroke. You gasp, arching into the touch, and Bang Chan feels his own desire surging forward, desperate for release. He breaks the kiss, panting, and gazes down at his husband's body.

You watch him with hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You reach down, unbutton Bang Chan's pants, and pull them down his hips, revealing his erection, already leaking pre-cum. Chan takes it in his hand, stroking up and down the length, feeling the warmth and the moisture.

Chan groans the sensation is exquisite, and he can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within him. He reaches down, gripping your hair, and pulls him into a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue darts out, tangling with yours, as your bodies move in perfect sync.

You groan, your hips bucking against Chan's hand. You feel so alive, so desired. The power play they've engaged in has only served to heighten your desire, and you want nothing more than to feel Chan inside you.

Chan reaches out, gripping his husband's hips, and guides him down onto his cock.

There's a moment of resistance before you are fully impaled on his length, but then he feels the slick heat of your body envelop him, and a shudder runs through him. He buries his face in your neck, feeling your heart racing beneath your lips. your hips move together, a slow, sensual dance that soon picks up speed.

The mattress squeaks beneath them as they writhe together, their bodies sliding against each other, chests heaving. Your nails dig into Chan's shoulders, leaving little trails of pain that only serve to heighten the pleasure coursing through him. He looks down, taking in the sight of their joined bodies, and feels a wave of possessiveness wash over him.

Chan's eyes meet yours, and in that moment, he feels so connected to you. It's as if you two can communicate without words, your bodies speaking the language of desire and love. He reaches down, grasping your ass, and squeezes it, urging you to move faster, harder.

Both your movements grow more frenzied, their breath coming in ragged gasps. The sweat that coats their bodies serves to heighten the sensation, making every touch, and every caress more intense. You arch his back, pushing yourself deeper onto Chan's cock, and a low groan escapes your lips. You can feel his release building inside him, the familiar tension coiling tighter and tighter.

Chan's eyes never leave his husband's face as he watches you lose control. He feels his own orgasm building, threatening to overwhelm him, but he wants to savor this moment, wants to share it with his husband. He leans down, kisses his husband's neck, sucking on the skin as he thrusts harder. His hips buck wildly, finding a rhythm that matches his husband's, and he feels the hot release spill from him, coating their stomachs and thighs.

You arch your back, crying out as you come, feeling the intense pleasure wash over you. Your body shudders with the force of your orgasm, and you collapse against Chan, panting heavily. For a moment, they're both lost in the aftermath of their passion, their bodies still moving together, finding a rhythm in the quiet aftermath.

Chan's chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, his heart still racing. He looks down at you, feeling a profound sense of love and connection wash over him. He gently kisses your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before pulling out of him. Their sweat-slicked bodies slide against each other, leaving trails of wetness on the sheets.

Your eyes flutter open, and you smile up at Bang Chan, the afterglow of their passion still evident on your face. "Thank you," You whisper, running a hand through Chan's husband's sweat-dampened hair. "That was… incredible."

Chan leans down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. "I love you," he whispers against his mouth. "So much." He rolls off of him, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at his husband's face. The room is still, the only sound is their ragged breathing as they lie entwined in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

You smile up at him again, your eyes half-lidded with contentment. "I love you too," You say softly, your voice still thick with desire. "You make me feel so… wanted, so loved."

Their gazes lock, and at that moment, Chan can feel the weight of your words. He reaches down, cupping your cheek, and gently kisses you, wanting to convey all the love and adoration he feels in that single touch. Their kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, as they express their feelings for each other in a language that needs no words.

[fuckingstrange]

Dumbasses, amr?

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WARNINGS: Deepthroating (kinktober), an apology for being badly behind on uploads, READER GETS BODYSHAMED IN PARAGRAPH 1, MENTIONS OF IT THROUGHOUT HALF STORY, Unspecified weight!, Possibly plus-sized/chubby reader, Implied body dysmorphia, Kissing, Gays, Gays kissing, Kissing gayly, okay thats enough u get the point, Ball-fondling, Cum-swallowing, Boss!bf but not Bossy!bf.

WORDS: 1k+

PAIRING: Aaron Hotchner x m!reader (WITH AN UNSPECIFIED WEIGHT/BODY COMPLEXTION!)

——————————————————————————————————————

a/n:: THIS IS SO LATE IK IK BUT IM SOOO SORRY SCHOOL IS SO AWFUL N IM TRYNA GET A JOB

——————————————————————————————————————

“Maybe you could just wear a sheet over your head and then we wouldn't have to see all that,” An interns joke lands awfully, making you realize that you don't even understand how he became part of, originally, Your's and Aaron’s conversation, but now you know you're out of it.

His words feel like a stab to the lungs, leaving you breathless and no longer speaking from the terrible ‘joke’ that made nobody laugh.

Aaron sits in his own chair, the both of you just kind of stare at him wordlessly.

The intern laughs for a minute longer before the noise slowly trails off, and he backs out of the room. After he's long gone, you end up leaving too, despite hearing Aaron call for you from behind to try and get you to stay. You walk entirely out of the office and just go home, knowing that Aaron would understand to clock you out after realizing you really left.

Getting home, you're left to yourself for a dreadful hour. A dreadful, aching hour, where you're left to your own thoughts after having a sensitive open wound poked at.

By the end of that hour, when Aaron arrives, you're found curled up in bed watching Corpse Bride, already dressed down into sweats and a large hoodie you've taken from him. He sets his briefcase down by the door while loosening his tie before climbing into bed beside you, silent for now.

As he curls up behind you, you shift around when he tries to hug you, preventing him from doing just that. You hear Aaron's sigh of sadness before a kiss lands on the back of your neck and a hand rests in the center of your chest, pushing you back into him.

“Hun.. He didn't mean it, He's just.. an asshole, with a bad sense of humor,” Aaron tries to reassure you, but you've heard it all before "He doesn't know his ears from his sac, babe."

“Just leave it alone. I know I'm not.. the best, in some departments.” You sigh, making Aaron tsk in disagreement.

He leans up a bit more, propping himself up onto one elbow to reach the side of your neck, kissing behind your ear as his hand on your chest glides down your body to reach the hem of the hoodie.

“You're the most gorgeous here, Babe,” He disregards your previous statement as you roll to lie on your back, giving him the opportunity to climb between your open legs. “Truthfully.” He adds.

You just kind of stare up at him as his hands glide under the hoodie to settle on your waist, the ghostly weight of his hands making you tingle all over, causing a shiver to rack your spine. Aaron smiles when he sees this, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“No moping in October.” He mumbles against your cheek, turning his head to give you a proper kiss while his hands start to run up and down your sides, making you shiver continuously.

“What.. what about November, hm?” You joke back, voice breaking a bit when his kisses move down your neck.

Aaron giggles, obviously holding back a joke of his own that he deems pretty funny. He looks up at you to make sure it's okay to continue his trail south while nudging up your hoodie.

Going against that little gnome in your head that chips away at your confidence, you let him remove your hoodie and shirt in one good swoop, exposing your upper body that he immediately litters in the most tender of kisses.

Your hand flies down to tangle your fingers in the dark strands as his kisses reach the subtly tented front of your pants, a gasp breaking free of your throat when his lips connect to your tip through the fabric. Your eyes flutter and roll back, legs spreading with a grunt.

“Can-” Aaron only gets one word out before you're blabbering “Yes!” back. It makes him smile as he pulls your pants completely off, tossing them to the floor and doing the same with your boxers to expose your half-hard dick.

Reaching up, he takes your twitching length in hand and begins pumping you to full hardness, licking at the beads of precum that build on your tip. His tounge drags down the underside, tracing a vein that starts to bulge from your soft skin, dipping down to kiss each of your balls.

You gasp as he does so, hips jerking in a way that lets him know you're wanting more. He's not gonna be the one to deny you after a day gone to shit.

Aaron takes you into his mouth, inching down onto your veiny cock slowly. He goes until you've hit the back of his throat, your shaft rubbing against the dangly thing, (SOMEBODY TELL ME WHAT ITS CALLED PLEASE I NEED TO EDIT OUT DANGLY THING..) making him gag and tear up.

He swallows around you to preserve the moment, only taking you deeper. He notices the way your fingers tense whenever he swallows around you, so everytine he goes downward on your length, he stops just to swallow around and let you feel his convulsing throat wrap around your throbbing dick.

It makes you moan louder than you meant to, deaf to the own volumer of your voice as you subtly push your hips up, chasing the feeling. It makes him gag, so your hips plant themselves back onto the mattress as you caress his hair in a silent apology.

He continues bobbing his head, gaining a rhythm that has you leaking down his throat. He can barely taste the saltiness from how far down you're reaching, his eyes stinging with subtle tears on bodily instinct from the blockage in his throat, making him remember to breathe through his nose.

Aaron reaches up, feeling your balls as they start to tighten, your breath hitching, and he knows you're about to come. He digs himself down, pushing you in as far as you can and swallowing around you, choking only a little bit when you come far enough down that he can't even taste it. Your mind always ends up blown whenever he blows you, head tossed back with your brain shattered into orange, shiny crystals. (Spiderman 2 ref lesgooo)

Lifting his head, he looks up at you with a soft grin as he wipes the drool from his mouth, he brings the covers up over you both as he crawls in beside you, giving you a deep kiss to let you taste as much of yourself as you can off of his tounge.

[yanderecrazysie]

Soulmate Song (Part 2) Yandere Bakugou

Requested on my Quotev! This turned out baaad but whatever.

Part 1: here

Title: Soulmate Song (Part 2)

Pairings: Yandere! Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, soulmate AU, spoiler for Bakugou’s hero name, swearing

Summary: Your soulmate is not exactly what you pictured.

Your laughter mixed with the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore as you walked away. Bakugou clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t used to being ignored- much less by his soulmate.

He’d never cared about having a soulmate before. He had always scoffed at the idea of fate picking out some girl for him. But now that he knew you existed, that you had existed out here without him for so long, it made him angry as hell.

You were weak. But that wasn’t really your fault, was it? You weren’t blessed with a strong quirk like him (he’d checked the quirk registries, your quirk was laughably weak) and you hadn’t trained tirelessly to become a hero like he had. 

And the fact that you were weak just made him want to protect you all the more.

He strode across the beach towards you, hands shoved in his pockets. Maybe if he appeared casual, you wouldn’t be frightened like he knew you would be. Someone as weak as you was surely as jumpy as a mouse.

Before he could catch up to you, however, you spun around and crossed your arms over your chest, fixing him with a furious glare, “What do you want?” 

So you were fiery, huh? He liked it.

His lips curled into a smirk, “What do I want? My soulmate of course.”

Your friend gave you a look of surprise, leaning in to whisper, “Is he your soulmate?”

“You didn’t tell your friend?” Bakugou laughed, somewhat bitterly. He had kind of expected- maybe hoped- that you had told everyone you knew about your connection to a guy as famous as him.

You shrugged, “It didn’t seem important.”

Rage roared in Bakugou’s chest and he gritted his teeth. It wasn’t important? He wasn’t important. How dare you- weak, helpless, stupid you- say something so offensive?

You looked him dead in the eyes and said, “Soulmate or not, I don’t owe you a damn thing.”

A shadow fell over Bakugou’s ruby eyes as he lowered his head for a moment, trying to force himself to stay calm. He stepped closer, half-snarling, “You don’t even know me. I could keep you safe. Someone like you’s bound to get into trouble.”

“Please,” you rolled your eyes, “I’ve been taking care of myself just fine without you.”

“Someone with a healing quirk? Like you?” Bakugou lifted his head to grin at you, “What’re you gonna do when the bad guys come after you? Make them feel better?”

He had hit a sore spot. You came storming up to him, stabbing your finger into his chest, “Listen here, hero, I don’t give a fuck about you so just stay the fuck away from me. We aren’t soulmates, not anymore. I reject our bond.”

Pain stabbed through Bakugou’s chest and it had nothing to do with your poking and all to do with the bond between you both. Rejecting a bond was very rare and very painful, and yet, here you were, attempting to put him through that.

Your friend gasped softly and hurriedly said, “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” you snapped.

Bakugou’s expression suddenly changed and he nodded, “Alright, we’ll see how that works out for you. Pretty soon, you’ll be screaming for my help.”

—----------------------------------------

When you arrived home, your door was wide open. The dark entryway seemed ominous instead of welcoming. You reached for your phone immediately and dialed 1-1-0. 

“What’s your emergency?” A calm, female voice asked you on the other line.

“Hi, um, I think my house has been robbed. The door’s wide open and I’m scared to go inside,” you said, eyes trained on your doorway, looking for movement.

“What’s the address?” The emergency worker asked.

You gave her your address and there was a long pause. Finally, she said, “I’ll send a hero to your location.”

A chill ran down your spine, “Actually, could you send the police instead?”

“No, I’ve been told to send a hero to your location,” she replied.

“Which hero?” You asked, slight panic edging into your voice. You had a very bad feeling about this suddenly.

Click. The line went dead. She had hung up on you.

“Aren’t they supposed to stay on the line until the hero gets there?” You wondered wearily.

Movement caught your eye, and you watched as a figure approached the doorway, emerging from the darkness. Your heart plummeted to the pits of your stomach as Bakugou came into the light.

“Oh, honey,” Bakugou’s voice dripped with sarcasm and victory, “A robber? In your house? That’s just a shame.”

He held out a hand to you and, even though he was across the street, you stumbled backwards, trying to put even more distance between the two of you. He snickered at your frightened response, eyes swirling with excitement.

“Why don’t you come inside?” Bakugou suggested. 

“I promise I won’t bite.”

[diejager]

Hello! I hope you’re doing well!! I was wondering if I can request more of percht König! If not that is totally okay!! Thank you ^^

Cw: blood, gore, injurie, inaccurate medic stuff, violent shift, tell me if I missed any.

He couldn’t remember much, after a rough and impromptu shift, his bone cracking and spine reshaping, snapping back together after his fat and muscle stretched along his back, his body rippling and shuddering, howls ripping through the stormy sky. Urgent shifts had always been painful, his body hastily and roughly shaping into the beast he was born as, leaving the ground beneath him bloody and his limbs shaking and throbbing with agony. His mind was a blur in the moment after it, every shape muddled, smell enhanced, his hearing filled with the loud beat of his heart, gurgling screams and booming shots, and his mind blurry. 

The last thing he remembered seeing was the insurmountable number of enemy, a trap they’d fallen into and left surrounded and caged, only knowing that he and Ghost had fallen into a stupid trap. Like a fly stuck in a majestic spider’s web, the intricately woven lines spun and interlaced to build the trap, unsuspecting and invisible until they flew into it; buzzing and squirming against the sticky web while the spider, big and dangerous in it’s beauty slowly crawled over, long and delicate legs threatening to stab the fly. They had stupidly fallen for an embellished trap by their backstabbing ally.

And when he woke up, laying in the biggest bed in the infirmary, the thick taste of iron lingered on his tongue, the disgusting flavour of rotten human skin and fat, the muscle fibres breaking so easily under his sharp teeth and eyes heavy with a bone-deep exhaustion. He was glad the lights were dimmed, the air sterile but gentle on his sensitive nose and the sheets soft around his rough and scarred skin. He layed naked, body tense under the blanket in his private corner of the infirmary, a thick, grey curtain hiding him from wandering eyes or other patients.

He relaxed when he saw you poke your head between the wall and curtain, a mask hooked under your chin to flash him a gentle smile, slowly approaching his bedside without spooking his frantic and confused mind. He tried to smile back, but his balaclava would barely show it with how subtle the curl of his lips was, his tired eyes fleeting over the heavy bags under your eyes and the worried air that oozed off your shoulders as you sat on the chair beside his bed, a clipboard placed on your lap. 

“How do you feel, König?” He loved how soft your voice was, the quiet rasp of it to not worsen his pulsing headache, but he caught the worn tone. You probably stayed up the whole night, stuck by his bedside and leaving only to shower and get another cup of coffee. 

“Tired,” he sighed, closing his eyes and slumping into the comfortable mattress and sinking deeper into his assigned bed, “Everything hurts.”

He heard you nod, scratching something on your clipboard, probably writing down his symptoms and noting down what you’d plan to give him for his pains.

“Headache?”

”Ja.”

The pen scratched again.

“Muscle pain and exhaustion.”

“Ja.”

You already knew that, he hadn’t heard you write anything, only the subtle sound of a page flipping.

“Do you want coffee or lunch before I give you painkillers?”

“Coffee.”

You placed the clipboard down, your boots quietly thudding against the slick floor and the click of a door letting him know you left his side. He appreciated your care, your tender affection to provide for him when he felt sickly or worn out. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami 

[the-californicationist]

he buys you jewelry

The incessant whir of the tattoo gun was droning on as you watched Price’s freshly-shaved shoulder and back take on the sweeping artwork of a huge dragon. It had arching wings and a terrible snarl, and its long tongue breathed fire out onto his spine. You weren’t sure why he was getting a dragon, or what the symbolism was, but it was beautiful work. It fit his body perfectly. 

You’d been dating the soldier for about two months now, and he was very intense. He was apparently a captain of some sort of special forces group, but he hadn’t burdened you with the details. As you spoke with him and shared more things about yourself, he would leave little breadcrumbs about himself along the way, opening up slowly like a tight bud, blooming right in front of your eyes. 

His violent career was probably why he was taking this tattoo like it was a massage, chatting happily with you and his artist, Jana, totally unfazed by the repeated stabbing pain of the needles. Price was laid across the black chair, shirtless and hatless with his chest down and his back exposed to Jana. She was working away diligently, and you were in a prime location to drool over his body.

You’d been naked together already, and he was a damn fine lover, but his huge frame still made you hot, bothered, and unquenchably thirsty. You let your eyes drag over his hulking shoulders, gazing at the banded muscle in his back, his huge lats fanning out like wings, leading down to a trim but strong core. His skin was dusted with thick hair and a starfield of freckles. Old and new tattoos lay nestled around his body, telling a story you were slowly unfolding. John Price was gorgeous. 

“Mm,” he groaned, “Back of the arm is a bitch.”

“You need a break, John?” Jana asked him, “‘Cause I could use a smoke.”

“You bet,” Price smiled in agreement, letting her clean him up and wrap the skin to keep it safe. 

You handed him a bottle of water and grabbed an orange from your bag, following him to the back of the parlor. He dusted off a bench for you to sit with him, and he lit a tin cigar. You started to peel your orange, handing him a segment at a time, sharing it together as his smoke rolled out of his nose and mouth, spiraling up from the glowing embers. He offered it to you, and you took it.

The smoke was warm and filled your mouth, heating the sensitive skin of your cheeks. The tobacco and vanilla notes blended with the sweetness of the orange creating a pleasant taste, and it was satisfying to blow it away from you. More satisfying, however, was the indulgent expression on Price’s face when you did so, his bearded grin turning almost smug when you looked up at him to return his cigar. 

“Does it hurt?” You asked him, getting a peek at his dragon. It was nearly finished.

“It hurts in a good way, ya know? Pain…” he paused for a moment, thinking, his gaze focused on something far away, “Pain requires fear. If you can move past it, you can overcome it. I just try to find something I’d rather feel than fear.”

“What do you usually feel?” You asked, biting into another juicy slice of your orange. 

“Rage,” he smiled a little sadly, staring down at his hands, “I’m quick with my anger. Comes too easy for me, sometimes.”

“Do you feel rage now?” You probed further, handing him another shining lobe from the fruit.

He looked at you, brushing your hair over your ear gently, 

“No, love. Not rage. Something else, though.”

For a moment, his stark blue eyes drew you in, turning into pools of endless, cloudless sky. You thought he might kiss you. You might have a chance to taste the mixture of tobacco and orange in his mouth, feel his slick tongue slip against yours. You wanted to be pressured by his jaw to open up to him, to allow him to taste whatever he wanted to taste, to take whatever he wanted to take. 

“Hey, mate,” Jana poked her head around the corner, “You ready to finish up?”

“Yeah,” Price replied, his eyes not leaving yours, gripping you without using his hands. 

“Looks brilliant, Jans,” Price admired his dragon in the mirror, inspecting the fine details of its black scales, “You’re the best.” 

“You like it?” She smiled, admiring the work as well, pride shining on her face. 

“Yeah, I’m proper chuffed. Now it’s her turn,” he nodded over to you. 

“What?” You gaped, surprised at the sudden focus. 

He let Jana place the protective film over his tattoo and pulled his shirt back on, commenting,

“You wanted to get some work done, yeah?”

“Oh, right,” you said, remembering you’d told him how badly you wanted a tongue piercing since you were a teenager, “Not sure I have the funds, so -”

“No,” Price shook his head, “It’s on me, love. Whatever you want.”

“Really?” You couldn’t believe he would just drop money on you like it was nothing. Jana’s studio was one of those invite-only, get-on-a-waiting-list type of places. Very posh. This wasn’t going to be cheap.

 He nodded, fixing his shirt and sliding over to give you a chaste kiss, 

“Anything for you, sweet girl,” he grinned, lowering his voice, “You gonna pierce that pretty tongue for me to play with, hm?”

You could feel your cheeks grow hot from the way his comment made you feel, bellowing the fire that was growing in your core. You turned to Jana who was cleaning up her station,

“Are you able to do a tongue piercing today?”

She smiled, 

“For John’s girl? Anytime. Have a seat.”

She brought over some bars for you to choose from. You worried about how sensitive your skin was, but tried not to be picky. When you asked about hypoallergenic options, she brought out a whole tray, watching as you and Price perused the selections. 

“This one?” You pointed to a polymer style. It was bright fluorescent pink, and it almost glowed in the container. 

“Very safe. The PTFE will be the easiest to avoid infection,” Jana told you confidently. She really knew her craft. You watched as she prepped the needle, and you started to get nervous. 

Price noticed of course, and he reached out for your hand,

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you smiled up at him, grimacing a bit, admitting your nervousness. 

The captain reminded you, squeezing your hand, 

“Don’t think about the fear.”  

“What should I think about instead?”

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, and your heart froze in your chest as you listened to his words,

“I can’t stop thinking about how it’s going to make me feel when you lick my cock. I want you to rub it against my head, underneath, in that bloody spot that I like.”

“Ready?” Jana asked, interrupting your salacious thoughts. 

Price backed off, smirking with a proud look on his face, knowing he had made your blood run hot, straight to your belly. You nodded, giving her your tongue. You expected to be nervous again, but you weren’t. You were, however, extremely horny. 

Then, the clamp. A few seconds later, the sting. Your eyes wrenched shut, and Price squeezed your hand tighter. You opened them to look up at him, and his expression had darkened. He was staring into your mouth, looking at the piercing, obviously getting turned on by it. You watched him, sitting behind Jana, adjust himself in his pants, grasping at his growing shaft, trying to calm down. 

“All done,” Jana smiled, showing you a hand mirror, “and look - ”

She shined a blacklight over it, making it glow even brighter, 

“Pretty!” She exclaimed. 

She explained the aftercare, giving you plenty of products, and glaring at Price, making sure he followed the hygiene steps, too.

You left the shop sore, but you were distracted by the feeling of the wetness between your legs. John hugged you tightly before opening the passenger side door for you to climb into his car, 

“Poor darling, want to go for ice cream? Something to soothe that tongue?”

You nodded, looking at him expectantly, knowing he was still half-hard. His thickness made it impossible to miss. 

“Yeah, John, that sounds good.”

“After a few days, she said you’d be back to fighting shape, hm? I can’t wait.”

His laugh was dark and full of promise. He leaned over the center console to kiss your neck, and you felt like you might melt through the seat. He pulled out of the parking lot, and as the lights from the city glittered over his windshield, you held his hand, feeling like his precious pet, something to be cherished.

[bravevulnerability]

3x22 au with castle and beckett in the pool together pleeease

Castle wades in the shallow end, the pool mostly empty save for a man swimming laps and a woman, whom he just watched dive into the deep end. Her gaze snags on him the second she comes up for air. 

She swims over to him with irritation in her eyes flaring like the sun overhead. 

“I told you to stay on the deck,” Beckett growls.

“Beckett, people have seen us here together,” he reasons, trying so very hard to stop his eyes from wandering past her face, down to the exposed skin of her chest, sun-kissed and decorated with rivulets of water that race to converge at the v of her swimsuit. “Don’t you think it might look suspicious if I sit by and sip piña coladas while you seduce Royce’s killer?”

She doesn’t buy his reasoning. Not at all.

“Okay, okay, I also wanted to swim in the pool. It’s a nice pool, Beckett-”

Kate curses under her breath and flicks her eyes over his shoulder, her gaze landing on something that has her straightening in the water. Russell Ganz, he’s certain, and she confirms it when her gaze snaps back to meet his.

“Okay, since you ruined my original plan, we’re going to have to improvise.”

“I’m game. So how-” He chokes on his question as Kate places her hands to his bare shoulders. Her fingers dig into his skin ever so lightly as she uses him for purchase to reel herself in close. Her body glides through the distance between them, drifting through the water until her arms are lacing snugly around his neck.

"Castle."

He can't breathe.

"Castle," she snaps, but her lips are curled in a tight smile. "You're making me look bad. Touch me back."

"Say less," he mutters, reaching for her thighs.

She gasps in surprise when he hefts her up, her legs instinctively curling around his waist.

"I said touch not - grab," she huffs, but her arms remain folded around his neck.

"I didn't grab," he murmurs, slipping his palms up her thighs, past her hips, and splaying them wide at her spine. Her lips purse. "I'm just playing the part of a very interested male companion."

Beckett smirks, leans forward to tilt her mouth towards his ear. "So your normal role?"

"Funny," he mutters, but he's trailing his fingers up the line of her vertebrae, savoring the hitch in her breath, the stutter of it in his ear. "But you're not wrong. Though, I'd call this a more hands-on approach."

"Castle, I am trying to get Ganz's attention, stop-"

"Distracting you?" he grins, one of his hands lifting to curve along her shoulder.

He loves the structure of her bones, the strength he can see carved into her shoulders. He traces the bone of her clavicle with care, hooks his thumb under the strap of her suit.

Her head turns, nose bumping into his cheek. "He's on his phone. Not looking yet. Stop."

"I'm just touching. You said to touch-"

"I'm going to hit you," she mutters, unfurling her arms to cup her hands at his nape, lean back in his grasp. And oh, her eyes are... dark. "When he looks this way, I'm going to shove you away and get out of the pool. He'll follow."

"How can you be so sure?" he asks, lowering the hand at her shoulder back to her outer thigh. Which is pressing snugly into his hip. Holy shit he can't believe he has Kate Beckett wrapped around him.

"Because I have a plan," she shrugs, her own eyes tripping down his face, over his mouth, down to his chest.

The elegant line of her throat ripples.

Her thumb is moving in a maddening circle just below his ear, her palm draped at his pulse point. She's so close, her lips just inches away from his, the heat of her body flush with his, ruining the reprieve of the water.

He's going to kiss her. Again.

"Beckett?"

Her eyes flutter and she shakes her head.

"I'm sorry."

"What-"

And then she dunks his head under the water.

-

He's dripping wet and waiting for her when she meets him behind the bushes. But before he can say a word, she's poking him.

"Ow!" he hisses, protecting his chest before she can stab him again while she whisper yells at him.

"He called me green, Castle! What the hell were you doing?"

"I saw his phone in the cabana after you tried to drown me," he scowls. "I thought it was worth the risk."

"You took his phone?"

"No, I took a picture of his recent calls list while you were busy flirting it up."

"What?" The smile spreads wide across her face. "Where is it?"

"Don't poke me," he warns as he digs for the phone in his pocket.

"Poke you? I wanna kiss you," she grins, taking the phone from his proffered hand.

He tightens his grip on the thick towel around his waist. His life can be so unfair.

"I'd like that," he risks. "Least you could do after you dunked me."

"Oh please," she sighs, glancing up at him with mischief in her eyes.

"Beckett, water went up my nose. Do you know how unpleasant-"

She lifts on her toes, lips at his cheek and dangerously close to his mouth.

She presses a kiss to his skin.

"Better?" she husks, and he curls his fingers at her hipbone, fisting the slinky, wet fabric of her wrap, her swimsuit, in his hand.

He exhales slowly. This new game they're playing, teasing the fire between them... he's not sure he can survive it.

"For now."

[klausysworld]

Could you do another part of my queen where the Scooby-Doo gang kidnaps y/n thinking she is just a random normal wolf that Klaus cares about like a pet, but then Bonnie finds out what she is and so they try to use her against Klaus with the help of Esther so they turn her into a human?

My Queen PT2

PT1

Since realising I was the wolf that saved him so many times a thousand years ago, Klaus had become much more eager to spend time with me. He seemed to believe he needed to take care of me, as though he owed it to me because of how I watched over him in the past.

He began to leave steaks outside my den and often tried to bring me into his house but I always refused him. He was the kind of person to not let me leave.

I was a wolf, not a pet dog.

And he became very aware of that when I bit his wrist so hard he nearly cried after he attempted to put a collar on him.

His siblings found the situation bizarre and I don’t blame them. Elijah often sighed when Niklaus tried to lure me into the house.

It seemed the Mikaelsons weren’t the only people who thought me to be a pet.

Salvatores, Gilberts, Forbes and Bennetts did too.

So much so that they had caged me and belittled me. They mocked and tormented me while I paced back and forth thinking of a way to get past. I could force my way out, break the bars and bite them all but I had so much wolves bane in my system that I probably wouldn’t get very far at all.

Besides the stupid witch was doing tests on me which weakened me by the minute and the vampires had buckets of wolfs bane mixed water ready to drown me in if I stepped out of line. Which I figured out wasn’t a bluff when I attempted to bite their precious human.

I remained as calm as I could for as long as I could. In fact I only really became more aggressive when a scarred Esther showed up with an arrogant Finn at her side.

She and Bonnie conversed and before I knew it my entire body was screaming at me in absolute agony.

It was as though my blood was on fine and burning me from the inside out, my limbs all bent the wrong ways and my spine snapped out of place.

I forced myself to my paws on shaky legs and began to bolt, I weaved past the witches. The others had left assuming it would take longer for the spell to take place.

I could hear them yelling and my teeth sunk into Finn’s leg when he lunged forward to grab me making him topple over to the ground and his in pain.

Everything hurt as I dashed through the streets alarming the locals and causing havoc and disaster as cars began to crash and people screamed. My senses were going haywire as my insides were stabbed at.

My body became off balanced as my back legs become longer than my front. I rolled forward and my paws fingers got tangled in my fur hair. My yelp sounded softer than usual and my breathing was heavier. I laid still on the ground for a moment when I saw two arms infront of me. I could feel my heart beating faster and I could feel my skin touching my skin. My fingers twitched and I lifted my hand in horror. I rolled onto my back and with far too much effort, pushed myself up with the palms of my hands.

What the fuck.

I looked down with wide eyes and my lips parted when I poked at my knees, I stretched my toes out with a look of disbelief on my face and hesitantly reached up to touch my nose. My teeth were blunt and and my snout was nonexistent and neither were my whiskers. I could hear my breathing quickening as I frantically looked at my new body.

My hair kept falling infront of my vision, it was as white as my fur but much longer and messier. I had little to no fur hair on the rest of my body making me feel weird as I slowly stood up. I grimaced at the feel of dirt and sticks against my feet, they hurt much more than when it was against my paws. I took a step forward only to return straight back to the ground due to leaning too far forward and having to push myself back up. I got onto my hands and knees before dragging myself to a nearby tree and pulling myself up.

This is not fun.

I basically hobbled through the woods, every step caused a horrible sting in the bases of my feet and the bark of the trees scratched my hands and my breasts if I got too close which hurt much more than I had thought. Thankfully the sky was getting darker so people shouldn’t be around. Stupid hikers and campers.

Thankfully only one guy saw me and he was clearly not in the right mind as he just gave me a thumbs up and walked off with a low whistle.

This would be the only time I am grateful for Klaus bringing me to his home so often because now I had memorised all of the ways there. It took way too long to get here but I made it.

I stared at the door blankly and hit my hands against it harshly making me wince as the sting that spread over my palms and pads of my fingers.

I heard a loud grumbling and a string of curses from Niklaus before the door opened making me stumble slightly as some of my weight had been against it. I fell against his chest and his arms circled me instantly.

God inside here was warm. It was absolutely fucking freezing without my fur and his body radiated heat like an open flame would.

His throat cleared but I didn’t look up at him, only stayed against him somewhat awkwardly, not really knowing what to do in this position. I heard footsteps and turned my head to see Elijah with a frown on his face

“Niklaus…why on earth are you hugging a naked girl in the middle of the night?” He asked getting nearer. His eyes locked on mine before glancing at my hair and back to my eyes again, his brows raised and he cleared his throat before turning his head and walking over out of my sight line. He returned within a second and a soft material was brought over my shoulders. I was guided away from Niklaus’s arms.

“You didn’t let anyone know that your little friend here could turn human” Elijah muttered quietly but not quietly enough apparently.

Klaus looked at me with wide eyes and an open mouth as his hand reached out in front of my face making me bare my teeth. His brows furrowed and I frowned before realising I didn’t exactly look very threatening like this.

“I wasn’t aware either” he whispered as his eyes dragged down my body making me pull the blanket around me and give him a dirty look. He blinked at me before apologising breathlessly and looking to Elijah in utter confusion.

He turned back to me with a hesitant look on his face, “my Queen…how long have you been human?” He asked, his tone almost nervous as he stared at me.

“For gods sake you two, look at her, clearly not very long��� Rebekah’s voice came from my right before she was right beside me. “Come on flower, let’s get you washed and dried” she told me, her hands grabbed my arms and she pulled me along. I had not idea what to do. I didn’t know how to talk and I wasn’t able to just bite any of them. My cuts weren’t healing and I felt uncomfortable with everything about me.

My eyes widened at the stair case and my head shook quickly. “Come on, it’s okay” she tried as her hand pulled at mine, she tugged harder and my claws nails dug into her wrist and she let go with a curse. “Why you little-“

“Rebekah! Leave her be” Klaus growled before I felt his hand in my hip making me shift “it’s alright sweetheart, I’m going to lift you and take you up okay? We’ll figure this all out as soon as possible” I said nothing only stiffened and looked at him as I was carried up the stairs, one of his arms went under the back of my knees and the other against my back. I kept as still as I could until I was carefully put back down on my feet.

I looked around in confusion at the cold floors and shiny walls. My eyes widened and I stepped back when water began to blast against a big glass box.

“In you go love, into the shower” he directed while pushing me forward, the blanket was taken from me and I was under the hot water. I looked to him in slight betrayal and he gave a faint smile. I looked at him helplessly until he sighed and pushed his pants down and stepped in behind me. “Alright my Queen, everything’s gonna be okay, I’ll get you all clean and we can get some rest. I’ll get a witch out to help”

I tensed when he mentioned a witch but he didn’t comment on it and instead brought his fingers into my hair while the water poured over it and foamy soap fell to the base of the shower. His hands slid down my back and to my hips making me swallow thickly and turn around to look up at him. He was much taller in human form compared to our wolves.

I had seen Niklaus without any clothes many times after he turned but never had my body reacted the way it was now. Everything felt much hotter and my lower abdomen tingled. I looked up to see his brows risen as his head tilted to the side with a growing smirk on his lips

“Well you certainly are different like this aren’t you?” He hummed making me growl quietly in my throat though it sounded much softer than I had hoped and he chuckled. “Not quite the same affect hm?” His hand cupped my face and his thumb rubbed over my lower lip making my brows furrow “not so strong now are we little wolf?” He cooed at me like I was a child’s, so I did the only logical thing I could think of and bit his thumb.

He hissed and snatched his hand away making me see my opening and rush out of the shower, I was dripping wet as I ran out the bathroom and through his room only for him to appear directly infront of me at the doorway. I let out an ‘mph’ as I knocked into him and winced at the impact against my breasts.

I shoved at his chest but was lifted up and tossed onto his bed making me yelp. In a flash he was back on top of me and my face was heating up significantly as his naked body pressed to mine. My body reacted on its own to him and I was starting to get annoyed with myself. “You need to calm down love” he whispered lowly and a delightful sensation ran along my spine. My breathing picked up and my thighs squeezed together. His fingers brushed over my cheek and he gently kissed the corner of my mouth. “I shouldn’t have belittled you, I got carried away with how adorable you are as a human” he murmured and I let out a breath. “I never expected you to be human my queen, I didn’t think about how desirable you’d look” he whispered “but you’re all confused at the moment and clearly been through something so for now, I will get you something to cover up your stunning body so that I don’t pounce on you…again” he smiled and I gave a weak one in response.

With much reluctance he got me into a shirt and underwear, him self in a similar state and beckoned me over to his side of the bed. I shuffled closer and he brought an arm around me, my nose pressed to his chest and i breathed in his scent. He didn’t smell as strong without my wolf nose but he still smelt nice.

His hand stroked the back of my head pleasantly and I sunk into the bed, being a human wasn’t awful per say but I sure as hell hoped that those stupid witches burned for it.

[unhappy-last-resort]

Broken Scars and Burning Cards (Yandere Scar X GN Reader)

Warnings: Implied past abuse (Reader), feeling of being broken because of it, seeking out unhealthy relationships instead of healthy ones, mentions of physical scars (not specified what kind)

A/N: This is specifically exploring the feeling of being broken and afraid of healthy relationships and finding "safety" in an unhealthy one because it's 4AM. Please do not actually chase after toxic people IRL to soothe your pain, it will not work.

Word count: 833

Status: not edited

You know you should run, that the black sheep above you is nothing more than a mask for something monstrous, a lie to get you to lay down with your back bare and let him run his claws over your scars and run his fingers over your jagged edges.

You knew that all too well because you had been hurt and broken so many times to know, but something about this time felt so different than before.

You could never settle into relationships easily, for the most part you ran away from them every time you felt someone get too close to something delicate, to something that might hurt them.

But when he showed up next to you that day when you were alone, his messy white and red hair, burn scar on one half of his face, a smell of fire and looking all too eager to devour you whole, glass shards and all, your breath shuddered.

You didn't accept his offer immediately, you were smarter than that, smart enough to know that despite whatever misplaced flutter of your heart that it was in your best interest to stay far, far away from him.

But he never left you alone.

Every day you'd catch a glimpse of his unforgettable red outfit, a flash of his black cards in the corner of your eyes, and every night you could hear his voice phantom whispering in your ear of how badly he wanted to taste the scars on your flesh and hold the pieces left of you so tightly that they started to become a part of him too.

Perhaps it was just brainwashing, or your own insecurities and fears of never being loved that drove you to seek the comfort of someone worse than you.

You can feel his breath hot on your throat, his hands digging into the ground at either side of your head, a wolf ready to hold down its catch before feasting on it. You know this is bad, you know this is stupid, but it's so hard to run from something so familiar even when it's so dangerous.

He tastes you, you can feel the tip of his tongue run across the outer edge of your soul, it cuts him and he bleeds, but he savors it and he holds you so closely, too closely. It hurts. It hurts, but it hurts so nicely too.

The dig of his nails on your flesh, a warning, a refusal, a lesson, and you know it so well and you lean into it. You let yourself fall into that familiar grip, let yourself feel the familiar feeling of teeth sinking into your flesh, you let yourself breath in the smokey fumes that he called his cologne.

You breathed in slowly, feeling pain stab your lungs and poke through your ribs and you felt him twist in response, hands elongating into larger, monstrous, black ones, legs twisting into hooves and the light pressure of his head was replaced with the overwhelming sense of a skull far larger than your own leaning over you.

His shadow enveloped you and his nostrils breathed you in with pride. He nuzzled his snout against your neck, his breath tickling your face as his pointer finger traveled down your spine, memorizing the shape.

"Humans..." He whispered, as close as a monster could get to it. "Are such ugly creatures. They hurt, kill, and pillage everyone around them. Just look what they did to you, surely you've grown tired of being shackled to those beings?"

The feeling of his finger disappears and instead you feel a hand larger than your torso lay over your back and press down. A threat. "Join me and I will promise you the finest seat to their demise before we set things right and build the world anew."

His fingers curl around your form and you panic, thrashing to get away from the threat, prompting a growl from above you as he harshly stabs his claws into your body and hoists you up, flipping you over so you can truly see the monstrous beast in front of you.

His eyes have multiplied into four, two on each side, one big and one small, both with that rectangular slit that all goats and sheep have. His grey mane is held back by two large, black horns curling forward towards you. You can feel the expectation of his presence, you can see where the fire lays just below his veins should you refuse.

You can already feel yourself start to regret this choice as his nails sink ever deeper into your skin. Just like the time before, and the time before that, you have no choice and you weren't sure there ever really was one.

The only thing you were left to wonder, just like last time, and the time before that, as he trilled at your acceptance of the situation, was how long would it be until you could carve yourself an escape again.

[6feathered6siren6]

The Devil’s clairvoyant(Part one/?) Ronin x Reader(able to see ghost)

Trigger warnings:

Death/ghosts

You were always able to see ghosts, scaring everyone you told this fact to. You see how they died by the marks on them. The floating heads, the stab wounds, broken bones when they died. But you noticed there were a lot of ghosts nearby an alleyway. You were always tempted to go in there. Seeing why all the ghosts are getting killed. 

The ghost, Ethan, has followed you home since he found out about your abilities. He stared you down as you tried to ignore him. Well, tried. 

“What do you want,” you were annoyed about him following you. You crossed your arms as you looked up at the young male from your office chair. 

“I want peace.” He grutched out, you figured he was shy but he just sounded grouchy. “I want to know how I died.”

“If I do that, will you leave me alone then? I barely can go to the bathroom because of you.” You sighed, rubbing your temple. Ghosts always have a demand. But the ghost nods. 

On the next day, you walked into the alleyway. Graffiti lays on the walls as the same of dried blood. You cringed as you smell the blood as well. You sighed out as you heard Ethan speak up again. “Yooo, look this mark is new.” You took a look and it was more dried blood. You really wanted to leave this place. But nothing was here, you continued to walk forward until you stepped on something. You looked down and saw a leg. You slowly gazed up and saw it was Ethan. His head was bashed in by some blunt object. 

You wanted to throw up but swallowed what almost came up. “E- Ethan. I think this is yours…” You pointed at his body. 

“Oh, shit! You right, man!” He crouched near it, pointing at it. “Man, don’t I look gross.” You wanted to roll your eyes or vomit or scream. You haven’t decided yet, might pick all of the above. 

“Stop poking at your body, you are disrespecting the dead. Or at least your dead body!” You crossed your arms, taking a breath of the iron scented alleyway. As you looked up from the body, you saw all the ghosts that lay in this alleyway. They all had mixed reactions, ones that wanted to talk to you, some that looked mad, then some who looked scared.

As you were about to turn, you bumped into something, as you took a step back and looked up. You saw a male, his plum colored mullet covered by a horned beanie, his dark eyes that scream joy and curiosity, his clothing screaming punk alternative aesthetic. 

“Well, well, what drags you here?” His crowbar, that you somehow didn’t notice, was against his shoulder, ready to use at any time. “Such a darlin’ person dragged here by…” He expected an answer.

You stayed quiet for a moment, staring at his crowbar, knowing if you said the wrong thing. You would be next. “Ghosts. One called me here.”

His eyes raised for a moment before laughing. His deep chuckle sent shivers down your spine. “Ghosts? Really? What do you do then, help them to the other side?” 

You pierced your lips, “Not really.” 

A male ghost behind you grunted, “Another one? We’re too crowded to have another.” You took the chance. 

“There’s too many here, some said it’s too crowded here.” 

His eyes looked for lies, but smirked. “Really?” He laid his crowbar at your throat. “Tell me more, medium. How many do you see?” 

You turned your head to see the crowd. “Many…” You looked at him again. “Way too many for them to be in this alleyway. About a hundred(100).” 

His eyes turned serious, but the smirk stayed on his face. And he swung. As everything turned to black, you heard. “You are gonna tell me everything, medium.”

So I'm back to writing fanfiction on a new account, and after 3 years. So I'm kinda rusty, sorry if it's not good, but I promise I'll get better in time.

Part 2

[constesplanetarium]

☼⚠︎ Yandere Stalker/Kidnapper x Gn! AFAB! Reader

Darkness rating ) 7/10: “Feel that shiver up your spine?”

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

ya, thats it :) i wanted to write smth on the darker side

might make another part, this was pretty fun to write (ya it was fun. IM CRAZY!!!)

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT.

This work contains potentially sensitive content to some. Please be careful.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

CONTENT WARNINGS!!!

Knife play, blood play, blood consumption, kidnapping, sorta dacryphilia(?), mentions of stalking, drug use, and cannibalism.

Word count: Around 1.5k

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Cold steel drags down your neck slowly, making your heart race as the point of the knife pokes into your Adam's apple. You would try to plead with him to stop, but you know it wouldn’t do you any good in this situation. The blindfold feels like it's stabbing your eyes, the way darkness envelops your sight. Are you in a basement? It’s so cold. The ropes rub harshly on your wrists and ankles as you squirm in the chair, making your skin burn. You just have your undergarments on, making your whole body shiver. Of course he stripped you down. All you can do is hear the idiotic mumbling of a man who is so obviously not in his right mind.

“Baby, you look so beautiful, oh my god…” He whispers quietly, making you miss the silence that was present a couple seconds ago. His voice shakes as he speaks, and his breathing is heavy. “I finally get to have you like this, isn’t this incredible…?”

How did you get here? You try to recap every single memory following up to this, but everything comes back in fragments, and it’s all nothing but a blur in your head. You must’ve been drugged, by the way you feel so sluggish and drowsy. You can’t remember anything at all.

His knife drags down to your chest, then all the way down to your stomach. You try to press your legs together in vain, the ropes on your ankles holding you back. He chuckles and presses the tip of the knife into your inner thigh, making you wince in pain as a small drop of blood trickles down your leg. You have to bite back your tongue to prevent yourself from screaming, once you feel his hot tongue lick the trickle of blood up to the wound, and he plants a kiss on the piercing. “You taste so good, I could eat you up right now…” Why the hell does he sound out of breath? Is he going to kill you?

Before you know it, that exact question spills out of your mouth.

“Huh, kill you? No, no, baby…” His cold hand rubs your inner thigh, smearing blood all over. His hand feels so rough. “I wouldn’t ever do that, please believe me.” His soft lips kiss your wound, and at this point, you’re starting to feel sick. “... But I want to taste you so bad, it’s tempting.” You jerk your head away from him as he whispers in your ear, and he starts to laugh. “I’m only kidding baby, relax!” How the hell can you relax? “Mm, but I dunno.” His knees hit the floor, and he lays his head on your lap, feeling around your stomach. “Maybe I could start here, and work my way up.” Two of his fingers press on your clothed cunt, and you flinch. “Should I go to your intestines next?” He cooes sweetly, almost like it’s just sweet nothings he’s whispering. “I would save your heart for last, baby. It’s your best part.” Your body trembles as he reaches up, and kisses right above your heart. Your racing heart. “I was listening to your heart while you were asleep. I’ve wanted to do that for so long, it sounds incredible…” Why is he doing this? Does he just want to fuck you? Is this a sick fetish? You feel your throat tighten up, about to cry. Your tears soak the blindfold on your eyes. His breathing is becoming frantic. What is he going to do? Oh my god.

“I’m sorry baby, I can’t help myself.” He whines and a hand pushes your waist forward, then both snake behind to unclasp your bra. You finally try to scream a refusal, and shake violently in your seat, apparently scaring him off, since his hands immediately retreat. “... I’m sorry. You still need time to, uh, get used to being here. I’m so sorry, baby.” Yet he didn’t care when he cut your thigh? What kind of morals does he have?

Oh yeah, none.

There’s no point in screaming for help, you already know no one will hear you.

“Will this make you more comfortable? Yeah?” The blindfold is ripped off your head, and you blink away the tears forming at your eyes, and squint at rhe sudden brightness. You finally get a good view of your surroundings, and you were right. You are in a basement. A cold basement. The stairs on the side of the room are leading up to a freedom that seems miles away. But upon a better look, this place… It looks more like a room. There's a neatly set bed in the right corner of the room, with a tall lamp and a nightstand, alongside a tv set and a couch not far from it. In the corner of your eye, you can see a chair propped up against a table. Probably a dinner table. You can’t see what's behind you, but from the soft whirring, it might be a fridge. You don’t even want to look him in the eyes, but you take a small glance up and see a small mark of your blood on his lips. You look back down at the floor. He should invest in some sort of carpet, instead of these hard floors.

You try to run through your memories to see if you can recognize him but you don’t. Everything is still so blurry, damn it…

“Is that better, darling?” He smiles and outstretched his arms, exclaiming happily. “Welcome to your new home!” Not if you have anything to do about that. “I’m sorry for my, uh, behavior earlier. I was too excited. But I just…” He sighs dreamily. “I finally get to have you here with me, baby.”

…God. Might as well ask him some questions.

“Hmm? Why did I bring you here? He messes with the knife, in his hands, staring at the bloody point. “So I can have you here with me, baby…” He brings the tip of the knife to his mouth, licking it up and down. You watch the blood become planted on his tongue, nausea filling your stomach. It’s even worse once you can really see it. “I-I’ve been admiring you for so long, for months now, baby…” He tilts his head and seemingly stares into your soul, grinning. “I didn’t think this far into it, I’m not even sure what we’re going to do today, hmm…” His eyes become lost in yours as he looks at you thoughtfully, but you wince and break the contact you two had. A small snap of his fingers brings your attention back to him. “Oh, how about I make your dinner, right now? I-I’ll even make your favorite!”

You don’t want whatever he’s going to make. You don’t want to even be in the same room as him. Your throat tightens up with anger and the tears start to flow down your cheeks. His eyes stare down at you in pity, and a certain sadness.

“Oh, you don’t need to cry now…” He leans down and kisses a tear off your cheek, and you jerk your head away. His laugh makes you sick, it sounds so sinister. “You’re so funny darling, you don’t have to fight me you know.” His tongue laps up the tear that had just rolled down your cheek, up to the corner of your eye. He kisses you again and again on your cheek, to the point where he can’t get enough of you. “You’ll get used to it anyway, we can- Ah, no. We will be so happy together…” He purrs and plants a kiss on the top of your head, petting it softly. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to go upstairs and make dinner, it won't take too long, okay?” He rubs your inner thigh, taking a glance down at the dripping wound. A small pool of blood has dripped down onto the chair. “I’ll… I’ll get a bandaid for that too.” He seems hesitant to look at the cut, but he suddenly drops down on his knees again and sets a rough hand on your thigh, “Let me help you clean up, okay?” He has a short fit of his insane chuckling as you stare at him lick up your blood, refusing to touch the wound this time. Is he scared of infecting it? Ah, no, he was just licking up the dripping blood first. You watch and feel his tongue swirl around the cut and you wince at the small stinging feeling. How disgusting.

Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting. What a horrible fucking man, how sick.

You have to fight the urge to throw up again once he sticks his tongue out, showing the bloody mess all over it. Some of it is even on his lips. He kisses your inner thigh, leading to your cunt, and he leaves a small, bloody kiss mark. With a small lick of his lips, he stands back up, brushing his pants off, and a dreamy groan leaves his mouth, seemingly involuntarily. His hand rubs your cheek affectionately, and you try your best not to go ahead and bite him. I guess it's true that you can’t bite the hand that feeds you. At this point he decides whether or not you get to eat or drink.

But not your fate. That's up for you to decide.

“I’ll be back with dinner, okay?” He chirps happily and bounds up the stairs, giggling to himself like a stupid schoolgirl. “I won’t take long!” You watch the door to freedom open, the light streaming ever so slightly into the basement, before the only way to freedom is shut off again, with a couple loud clicks of the several locks he set in.

He couldn’t even tell you his fucking name, my god.

part 2 is here!

[13as07]

Sweet Girl #1

(Shikaku Nara Smut)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to Sadakiyo]

Requested by: My hormones

Word Count: 4,324

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Cheating

Name Calling: Sweet Girl, Commander, Cock Sleeve, Leftovers, Fuck Boy

A like 20 year ago gap (boyfriend's dad)

Voyeur (watching others having s*x)

Unknowingly being watched during s*x

Emotional manipulation (technically, but meh)

Titty/Nipple Playing

Degrading

Praising

Fingering/Oral (Female receiving)

Overstimulation

Pleasure Kink (cause I fully believe Nara mean live to serve their lovers)

Choking

Manhandling

Creampie

Begging

Part two? ;)

———————————————————————

"Shika!" I call, tugging the key to his and his father's apartment out of the lock. After the loss of Shika's mother during the war, they downsized to a two-bedroom apartment and gave me a key so I could come and go as I pleased.

"Shika!" I call again, hanging my purse on the rack next to the door. "I'm home early!" I continue, straightening my sundress. It's Shikamaru's favorite, a loose-fitted muddy green dress, with the skirt coming down to my mid-thigh. "My mission ended early," I start explaining, walking through the combined living and kitchen area, beelining toward the bedrooms.

Shikamaru's door is closed, which sticks in my mind a bit. The only time I've ever seen his door closed is when he's... well... taking advantage of the easy excess my sundresses give him. "Shika?" I call softly, knocking on the door as I turn the handle.

As I push the door open, his radio blaring music is the first thing that filters out. The second thing that filters out is the mix of Shika's routine praises and the moans of someone who isn't him and sure as hell isn't me.

My heart drops when the door finishes swinging open. Shika stands facing his headboard, deep bruises decorating his back and neck, his hair loose and flopping in turn with his thrusts. The girl in front of him is arched in doggy style, the top of her blonde hair poking out over his shoulder. What the hell? Who the hell?

My breath picks up as my heart shatters to pieces, the shards of it feeling like they're stabbing into my chest. My breath hicks as I watch the scene in front of me, tears threatening to spill out. "Wh... what are..." my voice is stuck in my throat, refusing to spill out unlike the water leaking from my eyes. The sound of the girl calling for my boyfriend, asking him to go faster, and him praising her only makes my tears storm out faster.

"Hello, Sweet Girl," a voice echoes in my ear, sending fear and more sadness down my spine. The nickname gives way to who it is. It's Shikaku, my boyfriend's dad, my future father-in-law... who was going to be my father-in-law.

Shikaku has always had the habit of calling me 'sweet girl', the name being a sort of praise every time I do something for the household; Cleaning the dishes, making them dinner, helping them pack for their missions. Every helpful task has been followed by a "What a sweet girl the clan has gained," or a "Lord, Shika, how'd you manage to catch such a sweet girl".

"Commander Nara," I whimper, voice still soft and broken because my eyes refuse to pull away from Shikamaru's infidelity.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm sorry, Sweet Girl," he hums in my ear, his hands sliding around my body, wrapping me up in his embrace. "I am so sorry. I raised my son better than this."

"It's not your fault," I sob, my tears finally blurring my sight enough that I can no longer make out the scene in front of me.

"I know, but still. I tried raising Shikamaru with a sense of respect, a sense of honor, a sense of loyalty. I'm so sorry that he didn't turn out that way," Shikaku whispers in my ear, the sound of his son's name pulling another sob from my lungs. "Hush, hush, hush," he coos, rubbing circles into my stomach, his fingertips clinging to the material of my dress.

The feeling of his fingers toying with me makes me tingle, both in good and bad ways. Shikamaru's father shouldn't be sparking these feelings, shouldn't be making me tingle in the areas he is. But... on the other hand... Shika shouldn't be fucking someone that's not me, and he is. Right in front of my eyes... so if Shikaku and me...

No! How could I even think about that? He's Shikamaru's dad! I've known the man my whole life. How could I think of Shikaku in that way? How could I miss read him comforting me in such a way?

"Let me apologize on Shikamaru's behalf," he husks in my ear, his hands sliding up to cup my breasts.

     Okay, maybe I'm not as perverted as I thought I was. "C... Commander?" I ask, my breath already picking up.

     "Sweet Girl?" He purrs, his tongue softly coating the shell of my ear. Shikaku's hands grip my chest as he slowly makes them in circles. His fingers are rough, tempting bruises to form on my boobs. "Please let me apologize. It's the least I can do for raising such a disloyal brat."

     "Commander?" I race out, using the name to push down my moan.

     "Damn it, Sweet Girl," he groans, using his hold on my tits to push me against his growing bulge. "Keep saying my title like that. Keep calling me in that breathy tone. You're going to drive me crazy. Drive me crazy, Sweet Girl."

     "Commander?" I call again, trying to keep my tone as even as possible. "We really... we shouldn't... You shouldn't... Shikaku?"

     "I shouldn't what? Fuck my son's girlfriend? Why shouldn't I?" He taunts, his hands releasing my chest to crawl down my body. His fingers slide over my knees, gripping the hem of my dress before he tugs it up. His hands and the end of my dress rest against the band of my panties, making me tingle even more.

     "Look at him," Shikaku orders, using his chin to shift my sights back towards his son still thrusting into the blonde bitch on his bed. "Do you think he gives a shit about you right now? Do you think he's thinking of you as he fucks that blonde girl? No, he doesn't. You're the last thing on his mind."

     "Commander," I whimper, fresh tears starting to flow down my cheeks.

     "Hey, hey, hey," he hums, pressing kisses behind my ear as his fingers toy with the waistband of my underwear. "I'm sorry, my Sweet Girl. That was mean of me. All I'm saying is that I'm here, I'm thinking of you. Let me enjoy you, Sweet Girl."

     "You... you're just... you're just going to use this as... as a less for Shikamaru," I whimper, the sounds a mix of his fingers toying with me and my sadness.

     "No, I won't. This is all about you. Let me apologize to you," he hums, hands tightening around my hips to tug me down the hallway. Shikaku's lips brush against my neck in time to his fingertips teasing me, poking under my band, and sliding across new skin before pulling back up.

"Commander," I moan out, the feeling of him everywhere setting my nerves on fire. He lets a hum out, hands falling down my panties, poking at my hole. "C... C... Comman... Commander," I stumble out, snapping my knees together.

Shikaku lets out a chuckle, his fingertip ringing around my entrance as his free hand messes with his bedroom door. "Sweet Girl? When's the last time you were fucked? Hmm? When was the last time Shikamaru paid your pussy any attention?"

     "I... um... I don't..." The answer sticks in my throat, my mind going fuzzy with lust because of the finger toying with the edges of my hole and Shikaku gently guiding me toward his bed. "La... last month... I... I think."

     "Aww, you poor thing. A whole month without any release? My poor, Sweet Girl," he coos as my knees bump into his mattress. His fingertip dips into me, no further than the first knuckle as he gently stretches me out. "Lay down. Spread yourself nice and wide for me."

     "Yes, Commander," I mutter, my words coming out hazy. I do as I'm told, curling up on all fours on top of the bed before I crawl up his bedsheets.

     Shikaku's hands slide down my hips, tapping my ass before letting me go. "What a Sweet Girl. How did the Naras get so lucky?" He praises, the feeling of his eyes bouncing over me as I move.

     My pussy aches the soft touching and coos getting to me. Slowly I roll over, my head propped on the chief's pillows as I let my legs fall open. "No, no, no. Wider, Sweet Girl," he orders, his calloused hands clinging to my knees and spreading them apart. "Look at that," Shikaku says, his voice soft as he shoves the skirt of my dress up. "Lacey panties. I bet your bra matches, huh? What a wasteful son I raised."

     His head dips down, pressing kisses into my inner thighs. The whole time his eyes stay locked on me, intense and slit as he reads my reactions. "H... h... hey," I moan out, the word broken up in my throat as it bubbles out. "What are... Commander?"

     "Sweet Girl?" He whispers against my core, his tongue slithering out to run across the material already starting to get soaked by my arousal. Shikaku lets out a hum of approval, eyes rolling back as he enjoys sucking on the mess I've made in my underwear. "You really are a Sweet Girl, huh? You taste so sweet. How could Shikamaru waste something so tasty out?"

     His fingertips slide under the middle of my panties, slowly pulling them down my legs. "God damn," he groans, eyes locked on my pussy as he moves my legs apart again. "Is there anything about you that isn't sweet?"

     Shikaku's head ducks between my head again, nuzzling against my thigh for a second. "What the hell are you doing?" I yelp, the feeling of something wet and warm pressed against me.

     His head tips up, eyebrows scrunched together as he looks at me in confusion. "I'm... going to eat you out, Sweet Girl. Have you not... Has Shikamaru never gone down on you?"

     "Um... no..." I whisper, embarrassment crawling across my face as I look around his room.

     "What the hell," he mutters, wrapping his arms under my knees before tugging me closer to his face. "I can't apologize enough, Sweet Girl. I've always told Shika that a woman's pleasure is more important than ours. I knew he was lazy, I didn't think he was that lazy," Shikaku murmurs the last part, dipping his head between my thighs again.

     His tongue slides through my folds again, pulling a long moan from my lungs. A sharp whisper cuts through when Shikaku's tongue slithers across my clit. "There it is," he murmurs to himself, full focus on my nerve bundle. The Commander laps at me, tongue flat and slow as he runs over the same spot over and over again.

     "Hey," I whine again, hands shooting down to cling to the ends of his ponytail. His eyes bounce up again, locked on my face, taking in my face I'm sure is a mess. "Shikaku," I call, tugging in his hair as my thighs clamp around his face, squishing his cheeks.

     He pulls back for a second, spilling a chilled breath over my slick as he catches his breath. The air sends shivers up my spine, making me squeeze his face harder. "Come on, Sweet Girl. I want you to finish for me. Again and again and again," he mutters, tongue slamming into my hole.

     "Fuck!" I yelp, back arching as I tug on his hair again. "Commander," I groan, the feeling of his tongue sliding in and out of me pushing my orgasm forward. The man chuckles at me, tongue jumping up to my clit again.

     Shikaku's fingers skirt over my thigh, quickly walking their way back up to my hole. Soon his fingertips are ghosting over my rim again, gently tugging on it to continue stretching me out. Two fingers dip into me, slowly sliding against my walls before they're as far in as they can go.

     An almost purring moan, tumbled around my throat, my closed mouth not letting the sound out. "Don't do that, Sweet Girl. I want to hear those noises. They let me know I'm doing a good job. Let me know I'm doing a good job."

     With the soft order, my mouth falls open, all my noises spilling out as Shikaku's tongue and fingers work in time with each other. "Shikaku," I hiss, my fingers starting to hurt from pulling his ponytail so hard. "Shikaku!" I repeat louder this time, the feeling of my cum gushing out and costing my thighs in my juices.

     Soft chuckles fall from the man, fingers slowing down but still thrusting in and out of me. His tongue falls away from my clit too, busying myself slurping up my mess from my folds, and my thighs. "I'm so sorry again, Sweet Girl. You deserve this treatment all the time. You're so pretty glistening like this, you taste so sweet. I could just eat you all day."

     "Than... thank you... but, Commander... I..."

     "Oh, I know, Sweet Girl. You're all worked up and sensitive, but your legs look so cute shaking because of me," he coos, nibbling at my thighs before his tongue slides over my clit again.

     "Commander," I whine, my voice pitched high. "You're... I'm... Shikaku!"

     "Sweet Girl?" He calls back, fingers picking up their speed again.

     "Ah, ah, ah," the chipped moans chirp out, the sound on repeat as my next orgasm builds up quicker than the first.

     Shikaku looks amazed with himself, the bottom half of his face dripping in the juices as his eyes jump around my body. "I want to see your titties, Sweet Girl," he tells me, laying out a flattened lick to my pussy in between each word.

     "Yes... yes, Commander," I mutter, dropping my hold on his hair long enough to tug the top of my dress down. The material settles under my boobs, the lack of a bra being a good plan today.

     "Damn, Sweet Girl. You drive me crazy," he groans, eyes snapping closed for a moment before snapping again. His dark eyes lock on my boobs, rolling over them, following their movement as I come undone on his tongue again.

     Another round of chuckles rings through the room, Shikaku's cockiness growing with every orgasm he pulls out of me. “My pretty, beautiful, Sweet Girl,” he mumbles, dipping his head again.

“Wait,” I whine, trying to push his head away. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can, I know you can. One more and I’ll let you rest. Sweet Girl, can you cum for me one more time? Just one more,” he encourages, tongue poking at my hole.

“Just… just one more,” I babble, letting my head lull to the side. “Fuck,” I cry when his tongue slides over my clit again, the pleasure quickly chased by sparks of pain.

“Don’t cry. Just breathe, in and out, deep and slow,” Shikaku walks me through, fingers sliding back into place as his tongue crickets my clit, the pain daring to outweigh my pleasure.

I repeat his words in my head, trying to model my breathing how I was ordered. The more he licks at me, the harder it is to keep control of my lungs. “Please?” I whine, knotting my hands in his hair again, trying to tug his mouth off of me. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. I know you can. You can do it, Sweet Girl. Cum for me again, please?” Another round of jagged moans stick in my throat, struggling to come out.

Shikaku’s words roll around my head and his watchful eyes scanning me push me over the edge again. The pain of the overuse is twisted in with the pleasure of my third undoing, the unknown of whether it’s pain or pleasure coated in my whines that spill out alongside my cum.

“See? I know you could do it. You did such a good job. You’re so good for your Commander,” Shikaku coos, sitting on his knees before tugging his shirt off. “You’re doing great, amazing. You’re perfect. I’m so proud of you,” he tells me, the praises flowing out as he uses his shirt to gently pat at the mess in my thighs.

My watery eyes jump over the older man, sliding over the scars on his face before jumping down to his chest. His knotted undershirt clings to him, making my pussy pulse with more needs. “See? It’s not that bad,” he continues to soothe, throwing his shirt to the ground before leaning over me.

Shikaku rubs his nose against mine, hands clinging to my dress as he lightly rolls it off of me. “You are gorgeous. The most beautiful diamond in the world.” Compliments continue to spill for the older man as he coats my neck in kisses, hands pawing at different parts of my body. “You deserve admiration, praise, attention,” he mutters, sloppy kisses tumbling down to my breasts.

His hands scoop up my boobs, squeezing and toying with them like he did earlier. “Is that what you want, Sweet girl?” His thumbs ghost over my nipples, rubbing circles into them to encourage them to perk up. “Do you want me to continue to admire your body? Continue to praise you? Continue to give you the attention you deserve?”

Now that my nipples are perky, Shikaku holds them between his fingers, pinching down on them. “Come on, Sweet Girl. Please answer your Commander.”

“Ye - ow,” I whine, mellow pain echoing through my chest as Shikaku pinches harder. His eyes are trapped in my boobs, watching as he tugs on them, pulling my breasts toward himself. As he pulls, his hold starts to slip before giving way, my boobs jiggling as they fall back in place. “Commander,” I whine again, arching my back as his pinches return. “That hurts.”

“You’re fine, Sweet Girl,” he hums, tugging until his hold gives out again. “You’ve been driving me crazy the past couple of months. Do you know that?”

“No,” I whimper, trying to arch more and take away some of the pain blooming through my chest.

“You have been. All those short pretty dresses you wear. Walking around my house with no bra and your nipples poking through your shirt. Listening to those pathetic whimpers Shikamaru pulls from you. God damn, Sweet Girl,” he grumbles, twisting my nipples now instead of tugging on them.

“Ow, ow, ow,” I whimper, wrapping my hands around his wrists and tugging on them.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, that was a little much, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, my Sweet Girl,” Shikaku coos, hands soft and massaging my boobs as he litters them in kisses. “Sweet Girl?”

“Yes?” I slur out, my head shifting back and forth as I soak in his soft touches.

“Please let me fuck you. Let me enjoy you, let me worship your body like it’s supposed to be worshipped,” he whispers into my skin, his kisses trailing back up my body.

“Oh… okay… okay, Commander,” I murmur, the feeling of his hands snaking down my body setting my skin on fire again.

“Thank you, Sweet Girl,” he whispers in my ear, his hands leaving me kind enough to finish undressing himself. “You’re so good to me, so good to us. That’s why you deserve this, you hear me? You deserve to be cared for in the ways you care for my household.”

“I do?” I mutter, my eyes flickering down to Shikaku’s length. My cheeks flush at the sight, the man easily being the biggest of the two men I’ll have taken in my life.

“You do,” he hums out, leaning over me as his hands slide across the bed. “Lift your hips for me, please.”

Again, I fall into obedience, lifting my hips. Shikaku slides a pillow under me, adjusting it before pushing on my stomach until I lay on top of it. “You are a beautiful woman,” he mutters, a hand fluttering over my hips as the other lightly rests on my neck, the pad of his fingers dipped into the sides of my throat. “You’re so young, so pretty, and I get to enjoy all of it. The sweet taste of your pussy, your tight little cunt milking my cock, your soft skin, the fruity perfume you were.”

Shikaku slowly sinks himself into me, taking his time feeling me wrap around every inch of him. A deep moan rumbles out of him, his balk sack tapping against me once he’s bottomed out. “You are the perfect little cock sleeve,” he mutters against the shell of my ear, brushing kisses against it as he tugs himself back out to me.

He never pulls fully out, leaving his tip dipped in me as his thrusts keep their slow rhythm. “Commander?” I whine, wrapping my arms under his, my nails clinging to his shoulder blades.

“Ya? What is it, Sweet Girl? What can I do to make you feel good?”

“Move faster. Please?” I ask, dragging out the last word. Shikaku gives me what I want, his speed picking up. “Fuck,” I hiss, nails digging into his back as he fucks me into the mattress, the bed squeaking because of his pace. “Shikaku!”

“Sweet Girl,” he huffs out, lips roughly pressed across my face. The pillow arching my hips up makes it easy for the Commander to reach parts of me never touched, and I’m sure the bodies spilling from me let him know. “Hold… hold on,” he mutters, tugging out of me.

I let out a disappointed whine, being left empty upsetting me. I want him back in me, I want him to touch more new parts of me.

Shikaku uses his grip on my throat to manhandle me, his hand tightening around my neck. I’m tugged around, the two of us being repositioned. He settles underneath me, my knees resting next to his thighs, my back arched and shoulders pressed to his chest. Commander’s hand slides up my neck tipping my head back so it’s pressed to his shoulder.

“Look how pretty you are,” he praises, lips brushing against my temple and his free hand shoving my hips down roughly.

“Shikaku!” I yell the sudden fullness pulls his name and a whimper from my lips.

“Oh, oh, oh,” he hums, bouncing me on his dick as his lips slide across my jaw.

“Dad?” A voice calls from the doorway, tugging Shikaku’s attention from me.

His hand jumps up, wrapping around my eyes, and keeping my head pressed to his shoulder. “Shikamaru,” the Commander answers, his pace picking me up, causing my titties to bounce to the beat of his thrusts.

“What… what the hell are you doing? Tell me you’re kidding. You… you’re not… that’s my fucking girlfriend!” Shikamaru’s voice rings out, distress and anger coating his words.

“Ya and?” Shikaku mutters, his lips present on my body again, littering my neck in kisses.

“‘Ya and’? ‘Ya and’? You’re balls deep in my God damn girlfriend! What the fuck, Dad?”

“Why do you care?” He asks, nibbling on my shoulder. “You were just in some girl’s sandbox, what? Twenty? Thirty minutes ago? Why the hell do you care if I’m fucking my Sweet Girl? Do you care?” He asks, shaking his shoulder to get my attention.

“What?” I whimper, Shikaku’s nimble fingers newly drawing circles against my clit making it difficult to focus.

“Are you upset I’m fucking you? Do you want me to stop?” He asks, his thrusts stopping with his dick still buried deep in me.

“What?! No! Please don’t. Commander, please, please don’t!” I cry, wiggling in his hold to bounce myself on his penis. “Shikaku, please.”

The vibrations of his chuckles run across my back, his laughter followed by him thrusting into me again. “The fuck are you upset about, Shikamaru? You were just cheating, fucking Temari as ‘your girl’ was away serving our village. ‘Your girl’ that you never gave head to. I raised you better than that. I raised you to be a loyal partner, to serve your lady, to be a good man, and now what? You just go around pretending to be some kind of fuck boy?”

“Dad, it’s not… that’s not… so what if I did? That doesn’t give you the right to fuck my girlfriend!”

“Last time I checked, she’s an adult, and I am an adult. She wants it, I want it, seems like I have every right to fuck her.”

“You know what, whatever Dad. Fuck my leftovers, I don’t give a shit.”

“Stay right fucking there,” Shikaku grumbles, his thrusts losing their pace as the order spills out.

“I’m not going to watch you - ”

“Fine, leave. See how quickly I strip you of your Shinobi rank,” Shikaku says, cutting his son off as his huff for air fills my ears, the air tickling me as he breathes.

“You can’t do that!”

“Ya, I can. How the hell is the village supposed to trust someone who can’t even stay loyal to his girl? How am I supposed to know you won’t betray the village when you’ll betray her?”

The two fall quiet, the sound of my noises and Shikaku’s breathing being the only sound in the room. “Fuck,” Shikaku groans, slamming me down on him once more. “That’s it, Sweets. Milk my cock, take all my cum. Thank me for it, thank me for cumming in you.”

“Thank you. Thank you, Commander,” I murmur, my hands moving up to cling to his wrist.

“Thank you for what? What are you thankful for?”

“Thank you for cumming in me. Thank you so much, Commander. Please… please do it again. Pretty please, Shikaku?” I beg, rotating my hips, trying to perk his dick up again.

“Fuck you. Fuck both of you,” Shikamaru says, his words shaky and broken before the sound of the door slamming fills the room.

Shikaku’s laughter roars out again, his lips coating my sweat-covered body, eagerly cleaning up the salty water from my skin. “What a Sweet Girl. Sweet, Sweet Girl.”

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[perpetual-fandom-brainrot]

Creeping (2) (Dark Link x Reader x Link)

Basic summary: You're in Kakariko recovering from your battle with Dark Link. You discover you didn't come home alone.

A/n: This is a HEAVILY revised version of the chapter! I completely ignored a certain major wound that Dink easily could've put back to use, so I've reflected that realization in the new plot.

This is a dark and violent fic that is not intended for children nor sensitive audiences. Read at your own risk

Read the first chapter here MASTERLIST

The sun shines bright on Kakariko village. Children are beginning to drag their parents outside so they can play, cuccos are being given their morning feed, and in many other ways life is starting to be lived. All is well for the residents of Kakariko.

Except for you, you're covered in tears and sweat as you heave with sobs after waking from a nightmare, clutching your midsection. Ever since Link brought you home a few days ago, the monster who wields his face shows up every time you sleep and mentally shatters you. Ever since you were literally brought back from death, every burst of air filling your lungs has felt unusually heavy.

"Don't think- don't think too hard about it," you whisper sharper than you intend to, hoping talking will help distract your focus. The sudden clench of your abs sends an immense sting from your stomach up your spine. "It's not here, it's at the temple in Lake Hylia, Link is going to kill it." You hug your knees to your chest and try to do more than just hope you're right. You try to do more than wince in pain and pray. Your voice cracks into a whisper when you try to say it again, "he's going to kill it." You repeat it in a mantra, a hope, a prayer, that Link will come home safe, your voice shaky from pain. You vow to repeat it as often as you need, even if you choked on your own breath.

"Of course he will, I got stuck with you instead of Mr. hErO," you jolt and press yourself against the wall, sputtering and gagging, meanwhile this darker Link continues on casually, like he's used to this, "you just had to try to be brave didn't you? I'll show you what that earns in this world, and then I'll go recover my powers from that thief," he growls. Before you can register it you're thrown against the opposite wall of the room, landing just next to your door. There's no air left in you as your vision spins and you desperately look around for purchase. You can barely breathe, you can barely think, everything feels simultaneously so fast and infinitely slow. The stab wound from the temple throbs and stings incessantly, scattering any attention you can manage to gather.

The monster saunters over to your crumpled form, gripping your face hard when you choke out, "wh- what do you-" before squeaking and shutting up. His nails aren't anywhere near as well-groomed as Link's, shaped like claws and steadily digging into your cheeks. You don't miss the glee in his eyes, which are blood-red, as he watches you stiffen and cringe in his grip.

"I don't need to mean anything," he begins going through your bags, "because it seems like the brave little princess forgot her fairy wings this time."

Your healing items. You had given them all to Link before he left for the temple again! You don't have anything to take care of yourself in case of an emergency, you don't have any way to scream for help with the grip he has on your face, and you have no vantage to fight back. Even if you did, you doubt you could make sudden moves without collapsing. Tears fall as you come to the realization: if he kills you here and now your death is permanent. If he kills you here and now Link and Navi will return to greet your corpse. Dear Hylia, please save me, you desperately think.

He hovers his other hand over your stomach and your blood freezes. You don't get time to think when he starts poking at your still-fresh stab wound with a couple of his claws. Your heart starts to race. He smirks and chuckles. Everything in you is screaming, screaming to move, screaming to do something, screaming to get away before he can sink his hand into your stomach and do whatever twisted thing he comes up with, but the better part of you knows that you won't - that you can't. To move here or resist now would spell out a violent death. At least if you can convince your body to sit there and take it, to sit there and let itself die, things will potentially feel… easier. More like it's your choice to die than the whim of a monster. You can't even get your thoughts together to internally wish final goodbyes.

The pain becomes more intense as he starts applying more pressure, efficiently reopening your wound. You want to scream, you would if his hand wasn't in the way. "When this war first started, nothing mattered to me," the pain becomes so bad that you clench your fists until your knuckles turn white. You hate the look of satisfaction as tears openly flow down your face, you hate how much it makes you feel like he's assessing some sort of prey. He only speaks again when he jerks his claw around and you flinch; "and then I was told some boy stole power that was originally meant for me. Could you imagine it, the rage you would feel hunting down something that belongs to you, only for some stupid-" he tightens his grip on your face and sinks his claw into your wound more- "little-" he moves the hand on your face to choke you instead- "girl-" you can't scream. You can't breathe. You can't do anything but tremble and writhe underneath the monster before you- "to come and take it all away?!" It slams you backwards into another wall, causing several fragile objects to fall off of it and break, and you find yourself fighting your gag reflex from having breath you don't have knocked out of you.

At that moment, you hear frantic knocking on your door. "Y/n! Y/n! Hey! Are you okay in there?!" The voices of the villagers outside are enough to spook the monster into disappearing. You can't bring yourself to move and open the door. You don't want anyone to see you like this anyway. What would they think if they found evidence of the darkness in your home? The question makes you shudder.

"I'm- I'm okay!" You manage to call out. "I tripped and knocked some things down!"

"Alright!" You hear the villager chuckling a little bit. Thankfully no other comments follow. You stand up, being careful of any sharp pieces that might cut your feet, and tread to your closet. The object of your focus hangs on the inner door. It's a simple scarf, one you typically wear out on expeditions, but you hadn't worn it to the water temple for fear of, well, the water. Now it will serve as an impromptu bandage to make sure you don't bleed out. You wince as you secure it around the wound, tying it tight to make sure it actually blocks the wound up. You just have to hope someone in the village will have a bottle you can borrow to get some potion.

Link, please come back soon. Please be alive.

[gardenoflupins]

AU where Sirius is a king and Remus is brought in as a prisoner

TW: violence, slightly toxic characters

Remus swallowed down vomit as he moved jerkily with each press of the silver spears against his back. The king’s men didn’t even have to physically touch him to hurt him. They could burn him just by placing their spears close enough to his body.

His wrists were shackled with silver in front of him. Each time his wrists moved, it sent waves of fiery anguish through him. The only reason he stayed upright was to avoid a spear in his back.

People nearby gasped and moved backwards when they saw him. Remus isn’t sure if they’ve put it together that he is a werewolf or if they think he is some dangerous criminal being guided by soldiers. Most people knew nothing about werewolves, just that they were lethal murderers.

Remus had never murdered anyone.

He’d never even hurt anyone. He made sure he couldn’t.

But the king’s soldiers were always on the hunt for dark creatures and they had located him through his howls of pain. The men sighted him just as he was turning back into his human self. They almost made Remus walk naked until he heard them say that they didn’t want to disturb the general public. After weakening him with silver they decided to bring him directly to the King. Remus doesn’t know if it’s for imprisonment, execution, study or torture.

When they reached the gates, the guards stationed there gave them all doubtful looks but let them through.

“We’ll keep it in the prisons under the castle until King Sirius is made aware of this discovery,” one of the men said in a gruff voice.

Belatedly, Remus realised they were talking about him.

“It will be well contained,” another added.

Remus discreetly eyes his surroundings. The halls were littered with large works of art and the chandeliers made his eyes go wide at the beautiful complexity.

They are intercepted a few minutes later. A young, lean man with curly dark hair strided towards them and frowned through his glasses. Remus knew immediately by his neat and regal attire that he was someone important. Was this the King?

“Explain what I’m looking at,” he demanded with clear disapproval. Remus’s eyes flickered restlessly towards him.

The guard made a respectable gesture before signalling to Remus. “This one is off to the prisons until the King gives orders on what to do with it.”

The wealthy man furrows his brows, looking directly at Remus. Remus looks at his feet because he was not used to people staring at him without recoiling away. Remembering himself, he looked into the other’s eyes.

“Does the King know of this?”

“Not yet.”

Agitation passed the man's face and he began walking away, urgency in his steps. “You will follow me.”

“My lord—“ the guard began but thought better of it. They poked Remus with the spears, making him hiss out in pain and stumble in the Lord's direction.

Two people opened double sided doors for the unnamed Lord and the rest of them. Remus felt the guards around him hesitate but they didn’t dare question the Lord with glasses.

“Sirius,” the Lord snapped and Remus flinched at his tone.

Remus quickly understood the hesitancy around him when he walked into what appeared to be the throne room. There sat a man with long jet black hair. Stomach giving out on him, he realised the ornament on his head labelled him as a King.

King Sirius.

Fuck.

Reflexively, he tried to pull back and this time somebody really did stab his spine. He muffled a moan and stumbled forward on uneven footing.

“Here is yet another one,” the Lord spoke without waiting for acknowledgement. “Starving probably. Is it really fair to throw a young man like this into the prisons? He is hurt, Sirius.”

Given the informal use of the King’s name, the Lord must be very close to him. Unless he was stupid.

The King didn’t bother to look at anyone but the Lord who spoke.

“Another complaint?” the King asked warily, a half smile playing on his lips.

His companion huffed and gestured aggressively to Remus. Remus shrunk back. He was pinned down by grey eyes and Remus knew from his eyes alone that the King was someone resilient, fierce, and merciless.

“My King, this is not another thief situation,” the guard behind Remus argued.

Remus braced himself for the reveal.

“It’s a werewolf. We were taking it down to be restrained but Lord James insisted we come here.”

King Sirius and Lord James stared at Remus sharply. Remus is sure he looked a mess with his hunched shoulders and defensive body language. Even with the declaration, their faces were almost impassive.

The King leaned back on his throne in a casual and aloof manner. “That’s no werewolf. It’s merely a man.” He gives them all loathsome looks. “Have you come to waste my time? Are my men truly so dim they cannot recognise a bloodthirsty wolf from a man?”

For a moment, the King is met with shocked silence.

“My King,” a different guard starts uncertainly, “rest assured this is a werewolf. We found him in his cursed form and waited to bring him like this.”

Lord James visually tensed at that, eyes scanning Remus up and down. The King appeared to be doing the same.

“You’re certain?” King Sirius asked. Remus’s wide eyes drew to him solely and they held eye contact. Remus wondered what the King saw when he looked at Remus who was wearing the King’s official colours because the guards didn't want to bring him in bare.

“Most certainly,” came the reply, sounding calmer. “We’ve weakened it with silver so you needn’t be afraid of harm. We will take our leave while you decide what to do with it.”

Remus didn’t ignore the way they only referred to him as an it.

King Sirius held up a hand to stop them just as Lord James opened his mouth angrily. “This is a boy. How is he a boy?” the King asked.

The question confused Remus. When the others don’t reply, he addresses Remus specifically. “You. Explain it to me.”

Remus startled. Had the King really addressed him?

“I would not waste my breath,” the same guard said. “It cannot speak English.”

The King looked disappointed. Seeing his window closing, Remus rushed to say something.

“Untrue, I can speak English.” His voice was hoarse from the previous night of screaming.

The knights around him stiffened and the air became cold and unwelcome. At all the hard stares, Remus worsened it by speaking because he never worked well under pressure. “I can read and write too.”

His body hit the marble floor roughly when somebody from behind kicked him down. The shackles on his wrist moved terribly with the movement, causing him to wheeze out in pain.

“Do not lie to the King,” the guard snapped and held Remus’s head down with his boot.

Remus groaned, regretting everything. He should have let them continue thinking he was a daft, witless creature. They never once asked him to speak when they found him and Remus was too scared to talk to them. He knew they looked down on the poor and the cursed.

“Is that necessary?” came Lord James’s voice, tinged with alarm. Remus heard footsteps approaching.

“Its looks are deceiving. It looks like a man but is not one. Don’t waste your concern on it.”

Remus didn’t move an inch. He was not going to do anything that would endanger him quicker.

“Remove your foot off him.”

Remus swallowed thickly at the sound of King Sirius’s voice. Still unreadable in his emotions.

“Sire—“

“Do not make me repeat myself. I am agitated as it is.”

The foot leaves his head but still Remus does not move. He hears more footfalls and prays the King isn’t coming his way to behead him. He catches sight of his shoes near his face.

“Rise.”

Remus hesitates and after a moment of contemplation he hesitates again. Very slowly, he raises his head a fraction, afraid he is going to kick Remus’s teeth in.

The King only looks at him with something resembling curiosity. He is at least pleased that Remus stays close to the ground in a non threatening manner. It does nothing to ease the others.

“As I asked before, how are you a man?”

Remus does not reply. Instead he watches the King, eyes glued on his face for signs of incoming violence.

“Do you have a name?”

No response.

“Can you only speak a bit of English?”

Remus’s eyes flicker behind him at the guards.

“Ah,” the King says with realisation. “They are not allowed to stop you from conversing with me. Speak.”

He continues to say nothing.

He almost wasn’t surprised when a knight stomps on his spine. Remus cries out as his burns rub against his shirt and the offending boot. A sob leaves his mouth and he fails to hold in a whimper. He lets his head stay on the ground. If they were going to kill him, let them. He was too tired to be tortured.

“How dare you,” Lord James bristles, facing his fears and walking closer to Remus. “Get back,” he snaps when they try to shield him from Remus.

“You hurt him for speaking and then hurt him for not speaking,” comes the King’s cold reply. “Do not interfere again or I will spike your skulls on the gates.”

The ice in his voice makes Remus shiver.

“Stand, Lycanthrope.”

Unsteadily, Remus does as he says. When he is on his feet, his upper body is hunched again from the burning sensation. The King’s eyes fall to his burnt and shackled wrists but says nothing.

For awhile, all three of them stare at each other. At first, Remus is met with detached looks from both the royal men. Then, they regard him with a look almost akin to pity.

Lord James side eyes King Sirius.

Remus’s head drops. He knows they are not impressed with what they see. The loathed lycanthrope. A scrawny young man. The horrors.

Another tense silence passes before Lord James can’t hold himself. “Surely you can’t kill him. Look at him. He’s….”

The King sighs. “He’s a danger, James.”

Remus already had no hope of surviving this, but this killed him further.

King Sirius takes a step closer to Remus and everyone, including Remus, freezes. This time, nobody tries to second guess the King. He takes another and another step until he is right up against Remus.

Remus looks anywhere but at him, feeling caged and very small in his commanding presence.

“This thing…” he begins, “like a puppy. Mutt. This is a werewolf?”

Remus’s stomach churns with anxiety. What would he do to him?

“My King,” a guard warns in a strained tone.

“You’ve frightened it,” is all King Sirius says.

Taking a risk Remus finds stupid, he tilts Remus’s head up with a strong hand. Remus’s eyes widen and his body aches from how still he tries to hold himself without shaking. Touching a werewolf was inexplicable. Nobody would go anywhere near a werewolf, let alone talk to or lay a hand on one without the intention to kill.

His brows raise at Remus, studying him. “Submissive.”

Remus is shocked at the word that leaves the King's mouth but knows it’s because he is viewed as nothing more than a wild dog. A skinny and petrified one at that.

Lord James moves slowly to stand next to the king, a frown upon his face again. “Sirius,” he begins, “this is unsafe.”

The King doesn’t remove his eyes from Remus, insisting on trapping him in his gaze. “You wanted me to show mercy,” he states.

“That was before—“ Lord James huffs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re too close. He may bite.”

Horrifyingly, this makes the King tilt his head with curiosity. “Is it true that you can only spread your curse on the full moon?”

When nobody answers, Remus gives a small nod of his head.

“You can turn into a man?”

Remus bites off his angry words. King Sirius’s eyes gleam. “Go on, permission to bite— verbally, that is.”

Remus doesn’t go for the bait. His shoulders fall a bit and the other clicks their tongue. He had no reason to be displeased by Remus’s lack of anger.

“Refusing to answer will get anybody in trouble, regardless of who they are. Can you turn into a man?” he asks again.

“I am a man,” Remus whispers.

He hears no reply.

King Sirius is amused, curious, and disbelieving all at once. He grabs Remus’s chin to tilt his face left and right, looking for signs of animalistic features. His gaze snags on a few wounds Remus knows are there and Remus swallows thickly. Nervousness thrums through his system, making his heart race. The King’s gaze falls to his wrists again but doesn’t make the command to release him.

“I think you will teach me a lot of things, Lycanthrope,” he says softly.

Dread pools in Remus’s gut.

He’d be kept for study then. There was no gaurantee that torture would not be involved, especially because the King would not be prepared for how stubborn and unwilling Remus was going to be.

[fawnsflowerbed]

His One Weakness || Part 2

Find part one here!

You’ve been beside Leon for as long as you could remember, but you both quietly yearn for more. Until a trip to Spain turns your world upside down and forces feelings out.

Warnings/content: RE4R Leon, fem reader, 2nd person (you/yours), violence and slight gore (obviously), swearing (also obviously), angsty yearning, two idiots in love.

Word count: 4,400 est.

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━━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━━━━━━

What you really wouldn’t give to be back at the shooting range right now. 

After an overall disastrous fight against a crowd of ganados to get a bridge down - obviously including some lovely ladies with chainsaws - and a near impossible fight against two El Gigantes, you felt just about ready to fall on your ass and take a five hour long nap. Strenuous labour was always expected in this line of work. Taking down monsters four times the size of you? A bit of a surprise. 

It was worth it in the end, though. Hand heavy with the dynamite you’d swiped during your dangerous journey deeper into the mineshaft. Knife blade dull from being boosted up by Leon to stab at the parasites poking out of the giants. Door swinging open thanks to Luis on the other side. It all still hurt like a bitch though, especially after getting backhanded into a wall by one of the giants. And climbing stairs with an injury like that? An absolute nightmare. Sure listening to a brief history on the religion suffocating the small town helped ease the pain, but what you wouldn’t give to slow down for a second.

The job description couldn’t have been further from the truth; get in, rescue the President’s daughter, get out. You should have read the fine print, squinted between the lines to decipher each lie. Should’ve known it wouldn’t have been easy, not in this field of work.

“I think my spine’s about to collapse in on itself.” You puffed out, wheezing, fighting with your oesophagus to take in any type of air no matter how smoggy. Arms leaned against the safety rails of the platform. The top of the staircase was as good a spot as ever to stop, it seemed. It gave the three of you some time to get your heads on straight.

 A leather clad hand in fingerless gloves passed you a vial of crushed herbs mixed with water.

Leon offered you a smile that was obviously masking his amusement. “Bottoms up.”

Taking the vial with a snort, all you could do was sigh. Time to take the usual steps. Give it a quick shake in hopes of making it taste just a little better. Unscrew the lid. Drink it down and hope the taste doesn’t have you gagging. No matter how many times you’d done it it still tasted just as horrible and went down just as hard. Yes, it was literally leaves and water. But what you wouldn’t give for even a drop of alcohol, maybe something sweet, to help soften the blow. A hoarse cough flew out of your throat while you punched at your chest to get the remaining herb down. Then you sighed again. “I hate my life.”

“Yeah, you’ll get used to it.”

“Will I though?”

“Probably not.” He gave you a soft punch to the shoulder as a sign of reassurance. Your usual action used to tell one another to keep your heads up. Starting at boot camp, continuing in times of peril. Times like this one.

The rest of the journey seemed to be fairly tame, walking up through another mineshaft tunnel dug out in the dirt and stone, supported up by shaky beams. More discarded crates, bags and barrels could be found, it was almost hard to not trip on them. Despite the town looking so small and vulnerable when you’d first arrived, it most definitely ran deeper than you expected it to. Yet again so did the mission. If you knew you’d soon end up in a castle you would have packed your finest ball gown (ha). 

As you got to the end of the shaft and shuffled through the stone archway all three of you were hit with an overhead spotlight. It was shining down onto a rickety looking minecart rail. The whole interior was much bigger than you were expecting it to be, with reinforced roofs and walls, and carved out brick blockings that had been worn down from years of support. The place had clearly been used many times before. Skulls mounted on wooden posts like not-so-subtle warnings to outsiders, a tipped over minecart left to the dirt. A few buckets and wheelbarrows, and some obviously rushed fences tied together with coarse rope. You were surprised some of it was still standing. You felt like a mere speck in comparison to the size of the room’s interior.

The real star was that track though. Leading into a tight tunnel that would surely drive you to more fighting to get back to the surface. It was an easier option than walking, though, and it also seemed to be safer than any other way. From here you could see what looked like steel beams holding up the top of the shaft. This track was obviously used often, which meant it was reliable. What kind of idiot would refuse such an opportunity?

“You’re not suggesting we ride this thing?” 

Leon. Of course Leon would refuse such an opportunity. Or at least try to, anyway. At first he was sceptical.

“Do you see any other way?” Luis asked. There was a clear mock curiosity in his tone; he knew this was the only real solution to getting out of here.

You, on the other hand, were already looking down at the cart mounted up onto the rails. Despite the rusted edges and one of the wheels being slightly out of line it seemed fairly safe. A quick nod of approval.

“It’ll hold us, we’ll just have to be careful on any turns.”

Luis clapped his hands together in celebration, just once. A small sign of a clear win. “Then let’s make haste! To  Princess Dulcinea!”

Everyone else was in clear agreement, all that was left was Leon. He put his hands up for a quick moment of surrender. “Fine. Not like we have a choice. Let’s go.”

With one last final assessment of his resources - scanning over how many herb vials he had left along with his ammunition - Leon gave his sore shoulder a quick roll. His left one to be exact. The one he told you about, when he’d gotten shot back in Raccoon City for all of the wrong reasons. Every now and again you couldn’t help but notice how he gave his hand a quick shake, like the ends were starting to flare up again, fraying to an awful fuzz. It wouldn’t be surprising if he had nerve damage from the incident. 

“Shoulder playing up?” Your voice had an edge of worry.

“Just a bit. I’ll be alright.”

Part of you believed that, the other part didn’t. Leon wasn’t one to openly talk about his pain, be that either mental or physical. He never had been. Shrugs of disinterest, half-smiles biting at his lips. He didn’t like showing it. Maybe someday he’d finally knock down some of those walls for you. Rebuild a few arches so you could walk right in, carve out the holes for windows so the select few could peek at his true self.

He was waiting for that day just as much as you were.

Hopping down onto the rickety track with a soft clunk, Luis was quick to hustle himself up and into the car. Just like you and Leon, he was ready to get out of here. Practically shaking with adrenaline. At this point you may as well have attached him to the back of the cart to shoot you down the mines like a rocket. He definitely had the energy for it.

Leon, however, was clearly teetering on that edge of indecisiveness still. Was this really the best he could do? No other way to get back to the surface?

No turning back now. Not from the way you were looking at him, anyway. 

When would you learn to stop staring into his soul like that? Big round eyes boring through his skull so it might crush into pure ivory powder. The once mighty Leon S. Kennedy had fallen prey to his one weakness.

You.

“Will you be alright sitting in the back?”

You couldn’t help but soften out at his words. For someone who claimed to have changed so much he still had the time to ensure your safety and comfort no matter how harsh the scenario.

But where was the fun in that?

So in return you offered up a rather rough pat on the shoulder.

“If anything I’ll be thankful, less axe-wielding maniacs to stare at. That’s all you now, squire!” You grinned at him. Leon looked far from impressed, in fact on the very opposite end of that feeling.

“C’mon, not you too.”

“Has a nice ring to it, can’t help it.”

The blonde scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

Once you’d dumped your case of gear into the bottom of the cart and ensured Leon was fine having his ass planted on scratched leather, you were getting ready to leave.

“Give us a push, Sancho!”

“Who’re you calling ‘Sancho’?”

“Offer on Rocinante still stands.” You grinned, foot outstretched to hop off the wooden ledge. 

“Ha. Hilarious.”

Finally you could make some ground, finally you could get one step closer to rescuing Ashley and going home. You could almost smell the overpriced aeroplane snacks from here, the plans for when you returned running rampant in your head.

You’d help clean Luis’ record and find him a good spot in a research team, somewhere safe on the sidelines. You could already see him getting along with the rest of the crowd thanks to his charisma and enthusiasm.

As for you and Leon, maybe one of you would finally grow a pair and ask the other out. Maybe lunch, maybe dinner, you’d even settle for a walk in the park at this point. You just wanted to be closer. 

But just as you went to jump down onto the tracks and follow, something reached out and grabbed you. Harsh hands gripped your shoulders and dragged you backwards away from the tracks.

Not knowing how else to react you yelped out in surprise, foot kicking backwards to knock your attacker away. An instant struggle.

You never were one for environmental awareness. 

Leon’s voice shouting your name broke through the mineshaft, drowned out by the frantic raving of the ganado you’d now shoved. He was already reaching for his pistol. Running up to disarm them would’ve been too risky with the cart already making a slow start. If he got too sloppy they’d all lose their chance. He just couldn’t risk it no matter how hard his head was yelling ‘help her’. He knew you knew that too.

Between the chaos none of you were aware that Leon’s leaning on the cart for support made it start moving. Slow at first, hardly a shove, but it’d managed to budge the wheels.

“¡Oye! Where do you think you’re going?” Luis yelled his question to you from within the minecart, tugging on Leon’s arm to signal they were approaching the beginning of the mineshaft.

“It’s fine! I’ll grab the derailed cart. We’ll meet up at the next stop!” With one swift kick your attacker was thrown backwards enough for you to get a grip on things. It was too dangerous to try and catch up now, and you didn’t trust running on the tracks this high up. You had to see your plan through. 

“Stay safe!” Leon called out, watching you turn to offer him a half-smile.

“Aye aye, captain.”

Just as you sliced through the ganado’s jugular you could make out the faint sound of their conversation. 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this..” That same tone of his. Begrudged, in awe of himself really. Maybe in true disbelief of doing this without you.

“Hey, we’re in a hurry, right? Sooner we’re there, sooner we see her. Oh, by the way…”

“What now?”

“Hope you like thrill rides!”

You couldn’t help but scoff to hold back a giggle at the sound of Leon yelling out in shock and surprise when the cart hit an obvious dip. Luis didn’t seem too phased by it - if anything you thought you could hear him laugh. Those two were an unusual pair. 

Maybe staying back wasn’t so bad after all. This way you were less likely to experience blockages or unwanted attention on your journey to the next stop. True, that was a stretch (thanks to your awful luck) but there was no harm in having a little hope.

You’d spotted your derailed transportation when you’d first stepped onto the rickety wooden platform, sat just behind the shoddy fencing and left to rust. Now was its time to shine. 

Pulling the tipped over cart upright was easier than expected, it’d looked heavier than it actually was. Fairly smaller, potentially faster compared to the larger one the boys had taken. It was probably a storage cart of some kind, one they’d hook onto the back of the main cars for things like coal. You’d fit though, and likely pick up some speed, meaning you’d reach Leon and Luis in no time. 

Clunking harshly against the rails of the tracks, you lined up the shaky wheels just right. You knew your job was done when a few stray sparks flew from the steel. Finally things were going your way. With a quick swing of your arm, you let your attaché case sit at the bottom of the minecart, giving it a nudge to see if the wheels worked. Sure enough they squealed out in protest, but that didn’t stop them from moving along the rail by a few inches. Bingo. A harsh tug backwards had it stalling to a stop. Now you were getting somewhere. Retrieving your knife from the corpse back up on the platform had you feeling pretty confident in your chances.

Past tense was important in this situation. Things quickly went wrong. Something moved somewhere. You didn’t know where, couldn’t spot much change in where you stood. That definitely wasn’t a rat though. 

All air was knocked from your body when a hard arm was thrusted against your gut, winding you. Pain shot through your whole body, eyes scrunching. With a groan you doubled over onto one knee to clutch at your stomach.

Someone was still here with you.

And they were laughing at you. Cackling.

“Well, if it isn’t the most promising newbie in my squad.”

That voice. That fucking voice mocking you like it had so many years ago. The one that belonged to heavy scars and the raining of bullets. Added insult to injury in your military training. 

No. Surely not. It couldn’t be. They picked you up by the back of your shirt, twisting it to hold you like one would a wet cat.

“Never were one for environmental awareness, were you?”

A harsh toss sent you back to the solid rock of the platform, your clothes skidding roughly across the ground.

Your eyes were shot wide in disbelief, in fear.

The person that led you on endless missions through an overgrown environment, void of hope and packed with constant challenges. Who was with you when you’d barely survived once, fighting for your lives in the jungle. 

“Major Krauser? What are you- But, how? Why?”

You’d wept over this man, you’d been told of his presumed death after the incident associated with Operation Javier. A crash, a slip up, something that went wrong. Something that led to a corpse they called his. They deemed it was him, dental records and all.

You were stupid enough to believe it. 

“Oh y’know. Just thought I’d do a little pest control.”

But this man was so clearly alive and kicking, not a bead of sweat, not a shake of nerves in his body. All you could see was a knife in his hand, a large jagged scar down the left side of his face, and a pair of bloodshot eyes set on one thing.

“There’s been these three rats really getting on my fucking nerves.”

Killing you.

Rolling to your side gave you some time to get your footing, but it also gave you more room. This was definitely not the ideal place to be fighting for your life. Not against someone like your Major. 

This felt wrong. He was dead, you’d attended the wake. The funeral too. All you knew was he’d died in some type of accident some time after, the details had never been explicitly given to you. Something the government refused to tell any of you, Leon included. 

Spitting your blood into the dirt, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Not anything new. Your lips fell into a grimace. “I won’t fight you, Major. You know I won’t. This isn’t you and you know it.”

“That was always your biggest weakness, newbie. You’re vulnerable, you’re emotional. And it’s going to get you killed!”

Krauser made a quick dash towards you to throw you a forceful kick, giving you an opening to duck under his leg and slide across the waitpoint. Crouched down with a hand planted on the ground, you gritted your teeth. That’s what he hadn’t taken into consideration; you could match his pace if he got too cocky. But you’d been taught to do the exact opposite. His laugh was bitter when he skidded to a quick halt.

“Good. You haven’t lost your edge.”

“And you haven’t lost your dick attitude.”

He simply sneered at you. Snapped like a rabid dog. “C’mon, fight back! Give me some kind of struggle. Put your training to use and I might take pity on you.”

Fine. Not like you had a choice in this anyway. It was either that or have your shit rocked instantly without any fair chance.

Readying the knife from where you had it holstered, you tossed the handle over in your hand, trying to pump yourself up. You needed that extra adrenaline to flow through your veins and wash out any of the parasite at that moment. Maybe if you focused hard enough you could use some of the virus’ strength for your own advantage. Maybe. You took your stance, words spat from your mouth like a spray of venom.

“Fuck it.”

At least you’d die knowing you put up a fight, right?

Yeah. Die with some dignity. Good thinking.

You hadn’t been in a knife duel, not in a long time. You and Leon would spar sometimes to brush up on your skills, watching the quick flicking sparks when blades collided much like yours and Krauser’s currently. Sarcastic banter met with cocky comebacks. A fistbump afterwards.

Only now this was so very real. No hands meeting in truce, only the sharp ringing of your blades. You had to put up some sort of struggle now that you were forced into combat. You weren’t going down without a fight, no matter how ridiculous this felt.. Clearly that’s what your past Major was looking for.

“Ha, that’s more like it!”

A deadly silence fell between the both of you, no sound echoing out into the open air except steel on steel and your rushed breathing between each swing, block and jab. Every dodge you could anticipate, every time you stumbled leading to a harsh cut to the skin. Still you hissed out and kept going.

“Of all the fucking places to see you again. We thought you were dead! I mourned you!” With the way you screamed you were lucky if the rest of the mine didn’t hear it. Every ganado in earshot reaching for pitchforks and axes. But it was true. You’d sat beside Leon for hours as he processed his mentor’s death, not a single tear shed from you nor your partner. He just stared dead ahead, like the ghost of Krauser was standing in front of him and delivering some harsh lecture on how he had to keep moving. His voice was haunting the both of you, just in drastically different ways. Now that same cackling bastard was back from the dead like some off brand grim reaper.

Obviously you were doing better than you thought, because after a quick slash to the arm he was staggered. Your foot collided with his ribs to shove him further away, surprised to not yet hear a crunch or snap. Still nothing. Your boots were steel capped, it was hard not to break a bone. Fuck. He’d gotten stronger.

“And what a fool you were for that.” He spat back at you. With a quick roll of his neck he got right back into battle. It was like your hit didn’t even land.

“Oh get fucked.”

So it was true. Any humanity or honour he once felt had now been sucked from his skeleton, not a bone in his body could care less. Someone you once looked to for answers was now trying to kill you, someone you couldn’t think of hating no matter how hard you tried. He was your Major, he was your teacher, and despite how much of a prick he could be those words of snark and bite encouraged you to keep going. 

The impact of his attacks had you staggering every few steps which gave him an opening to slash at your ankle. And it cut deep, deep enough to throw you off.

“Sloppy!” He snapped.

Blood was good. Blood meant your opponent had a weak point. Blood meant your opponent was mortal, was breathing, and would soon die. Blood meant victory.

Blood was bad. Blood meant your opponent had found a weak point. Blood meant your opponent was focused, was quick, and would soon kill you. 

Blood meant defeat.

Now you couldn’t get a handle on him. Sure, if you got lucky you could overpower Leon a few times. While he was strong, you were fast. Lighter on your feet and harder to catch. If he was a condor then you were a saker falcon, a pair in a two-bird inseparable flock since you’d almost fallen flat on your face on training day. Despite joining later than him and a lot of the others, you tried your best to keep your footing, persevering through thick and thin, mud, rain, and snow. Leon admired it. You admired his grit. Maybe that was your weakness, how easily you found yourself thinking of your mission partner and how far he’d come ever since his stories of the Raccoon City disaster. Maybe your former mentor was right about you.

Krauser was an exception because he was everything both of you were and so much more. It was worse than that though. Whatever they’d pumped him full of made fighting back even harder. He’d fallen for their mutters of salvation and power, clearly working alongside the cultists plotting against the four of you - Luis, Ashley, Leon, and of course you. 

Blood was seeping out into the fabric of your socks and streaming down into your shoe, a painful reminder of Krauser’s upper hand on you.

Every chime of blade rattled your brain into a different moment in your life. Collide. Posing for your FBC photo. Collide. Getting pushed face first into the mud. Collide. Holding back the urge to kiss Leon on the journey back home. Collide. Meeting up before getting deployed to Spain. Collide.

But your muscles were burning. Too used to the sloppy attacks of ganados or a quick parry before a roundhouse kick. Now you were up against someone with equal if not better combat skills.

And he used that to his advantage.

Then it was over just as soon as it had started, in the same way too. An overwhelming pain in your abdomen, his foot swinging right into your stomach with enough force to throw you to the ground with an unsettling crunch. It felt like your organs had been crushed. Knife tossed from your hand thanks to the impact. Your face collided with the coarse, splintering wood of the ground beneath you, blood seeping out into the boards as a permanent stain on the land. This marked where you’d been defeated. Where you’d died. Where you’d failed your mission. Most of all, where you’d lost your chance to so much as ask Leon to dinner.

You knew if Leon saw what had become of your Major he’d react much differently. Try to reason with him mid-fight, tell him he’s been brainwashed or controlled or some other hero complex bullshit that was admired no matter what.

You knew better. 

You could see it in his eyes, the way he showed zero remorse for you. How he spat on the ground as he walked towards you with that look. The same look he gave you when he shoved you into the jungle floor. Trapped in a chilling jolt of deja vu that chose to bare its ugly head in the worst time possible. Wood now felt like coarse mud. Walls turned to pouring rain that drowned out every coherent thought. Limbs sore from fighting for your life replaced with pains from hours of training.

His most promising newbie because they always fought back, right until the end. 

But it wasn’t a knife in his hand anymore. You couldn’t make out what it was through the heavy blur of tears in your eyes. It could’ve been anything - a gun, a grenade, a flashbang. Whatever it was, he was fast approaching you with it. Still trying and failing to recover from his kick at your gut, shaken limbs made an attempt to drag your body towards your discarded blade only to be shoved back down by Krauser’s arm pressing against your windpipe, kneeling next to your defeated, broken body. You felt like a worm, an insect about to be crushed under someone’s boot. You didn’t even have the energy to react to the pain, all you could do was struggle.

“Something tells me we’re gonna have a coward on our hands. If he wants to back down, maybe the rookie needs a little convincing. What do you think, newbie?”

You couldn’t think no matter how hard he pressed. Tired hands clawing at his torn skin. Keratin on flesh with no resistance to muscle. All that came to mind was fighting for your life and Leon’s voice calling your name from a mere few minutes ago. Now your own hoarse response was fighting to come out, a pathetic croak against the painful squeeze on your throat.

All rational thought was focused on the stinging pain in the side of your neck, a tight squeeze of pressure against the skin, and your vision slipping into complete darkness.