#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.

[suksatoru]

014. CARNATIONS

You're sulking, limbs splayed over the couch as you resort to eating nothing but ice cream, all while wrapped in bundles of blankets and pillows. You stab at the container angrily, practically shoveling the copious amounts of 'Fudge Fantasy!' into your mouth like you were being starved.

A pout forms on your lips, and your appetite vanishes the moment you watch the pining lovers on your TV screen kiss—a feeling of hurt forms in your stomach as you turn off the movie. You wince as you pry yourself from the couch, muscles aching from being curled up into a pitiful ball for too long.

You walk over to the kitchen, putting the ice cream away in the freezer and sitting down on one of the kitchen's chairs. Most of the lights in your apartment were off, and only a small and warm glow came from the lamp beside your couch. You press your cheek against the cold surface of the island, sighing.

Your lips quirk up a bit as you take in the state of your living room. You'd carried most of your plushies from your room to the living room for a movie night—and maybe for some emotional support. You'd even built a little blanket fort for yourself. Yes, it was childish. But it got your mind off of Touya for a while.

Your feet curl uncomfortably at the mere thought of him as a frown suddenly settles on your face, and you can only sink further into your seat with a groan. You've been moping around for the past three days, ordering groceries to your door and not leaving your apartment for anything at all.

You were unemployed now. Thankfully, your savings account could keep you comfortably afloat for a while. But that money wouldn't last forever—and job searching would have to start up at some point.

But right now, you can't even find the strength to reply to your supervisor's emails. She needs you to come back to the hospital, since there were a few more things that needed to be finalized. A few more loose ends that need to be tied and put aside to collect dust.

Something soft nudges your cheek, and Tora stands over you with a curious glint in his eyes. The cat nudges his nose against yours before settling down onto the island counter beside you, curling up onto the table and purring quietly as he lays on his stomach.

Tora had an odd sense of noticing when you were unhappy. He was an attentive little cat, with dark fur and a glittering pair of golden eyes. You run a palm over his back carefully, smiling as he eases under your touch.

You eventually hop off of the chair and walk around your apartment in deep thought. The movement was necessary to give your muscles some breathing room, and it also gave you a chance to try and accept all that had happened in the past few days. Tora trailed behind you, following you around like a shadow with quick and curious steps.

It was hard trying to make sense of all that had happened. The thought of Touya getting a new doctor, one that would help him complete the last bit of his journey at the hospital, was just something you couldn't really believe yet.

There would be someone else spending their days with him. Someone else taking care of him, someone else listening to his late night thoughts, someone else sharing his favorite meals with him—someone else loving him. And there's a voice in the back of your head, screaming that should be you. But you know it was your own choices that made it someone else’s role now.

You settle back into your heap of blankets on the couch, and Tora follows. There's a sense of trepidation creeping up your spine—a small, prickling fear that felt like a hundred needles prodding and poking at your skin. It didn't feel right, not being by Touya's side as he went through the last few months of his recovery.

He was nearly done with all of his surgeries. You wouldn't be able to see him again until his rehabilitation plan was over. Any contact with him was forbidden. The reality of his obvious attachment issues was heart breaking, and the look on his face when you left him hadn't left your mind since you'd seen it.

There was something devastating about the way his voice hitched when he pleaded for you to stay with him—about that way his fingers trembled as he held his head in his hands and fought his own mind to keep himself together, unable to accept the fact that good things can't last forever—they never did for him, anyway.

You didn't even realize you were crying until Tora meowed quietly, pawing at your chest as his little head poked underneath the hem of your shirt. He performs his favorite ritual—one he knows always makes you laugh—as he crawled up your shirt and poked his head out of the loose opening of your shirt. You peer down at your cuddly companion, managing a tearful laugh as you tug him out.

It was snowing again, and your laptop dings quietly with yet another email. The apartment is quiet, beside the soft sound of your labored breathing. Tora's eyes drifted close eventually, and you allowed him to sleep as you quietly walked towards your laptop.

Fourteen unread emails. You decide to open the most recent one—because the title 'Touya's new psychiatrist' catches your attention wholly within an instant.

You read over the email quietly, soft sounds of disappointment and sighs leaving your lips every few minutes. It's near the bottom of the email when you realize you had a meeting scheduled tomorrow at the hospital.

You had to be the one to chose Touya's new psychiatrist. No one understood Touya's psyche better than you, you'd been with him for many months and understood his mentality better than everyone. In order for him to get a new doctor according to procedure, you would need to be a part of the decision making process.

But you didn't want Touya to get a new doctor. Maybe it was selfish, but you just wanted to take care of him all by yourself.

Finding someone deserving enough of taking care of him would be a tedious task. Touya needed someone loving, someone who could take care of him, and someone who wouldn't let him down. Your back straightens a bit in determination. You had let Touya down once, but you were not going to do it again.

You were going to find a good doctor for him. No matter how many people you had to go through, how long it took—even if you had to call in options from neighboring hospitals—you would not allow just anyone to take care of him.

Touya deserved someone good. He deserved you, yes. But he couldn't have you.

You would just have to find the next best thing.

Walking into your former work place after being fired wasn't a pleasant feeling. The stares you received were obvious, and they were all from people you used to work with. Your eyes remain on the ground in silent shame, and it felt like you had a rain cloud hanging over your head with every step you took.

"Y/n," Your supervisor calls out, and your back tenses before you turn around to meet her gaze. Her eyes are a bit tired as she greets you, and you follow her quietly as she leads you into her office. The first candidate sits in a seat across her desk. She ushers you into the room, gently chastising you for being late.

And you want to tell her you'd actually gotten to the hospital early, but you'd caught sight of Touya's hospital room window from the parking lot and noticed someone had taken down the snowflakes that once hung on the glass. You'd wasted half an hour in your car crying—because Touya was so close, only a few floors up, and the thought has your heart seizing painfully in your chest.

You sit across the doctor, and it begins. You interviewed three women and five men today. And every single one you'd crossed off as unsuitable on your papers.

They were all biased. Each and every single one had the same look in their eye when you mentioned the name Dabi. This look of distaste, this look of disgust. Their words came out sugary and sweet, reverent, even. But their eyes betrayed their true feelings. And you can't blame them, because Touya was known throughout all of Japan as a monster.

Day after day, the cycle became tiring. Doctor after doctor, you can't do it. The stress was eating away at you, your savings account was dwindling away, and you still haven't built up the courage to face the Todoroki family.

It was on the seventh day of searching that your supervisor seemed fed up.

"You cannot reject every single doctor that comes in here, Y/n."

You shift uncomfortably in your seat as you sigh, unsure of how to respond. If she notices the bags under your eyes, or how your shoulders slump with tiredness, she doesn't say anything.

"Touya deserves someone who sees his mistakes and understands his past. Someone kind and forgiving." You murmur, tugging your knees to your chest as you sigh quietly, tracing circles on the arm rest of your chair as your supervisor's lips set into a thin line.

She's silent for a moment, watching you contemplatively before speaking up.

"Rei Todoroki contacted me yesterday. A while after you left, she said she...she has someone who she believes can help Touya."

Your hand stills at the mention of Rei's name. You swallow down the hurt expanding in your chest—snuffing it out for the sake of Touya as you nod slowly, eyes dull and voice exhausted.

"Who is it? And—can I meet them?"

"You can. I've already contacted her for a meeting I've arranged for tomorrow. But I'm afraid if you don't agree with Rei's suggestion—then the board will choose a doctor for Touya instead."

You can feel the incoming headache, a result of keeping your tears at bay and refusing to let them flow. Your nod is stiff, and you decide you'll sleep early tonight. You need a clear mind to meet your seemingly last option tomorrow. Because if this doctor wasn't a good option for Touya—

You crush the thought in an instant. She had to be. If Rei recommended her, then you should be able to trust this woman.

So why do you feel so uneasy?

"Y/n," Your supervisor says calmly, placing a hand on your shoulder as you turn to look at her. She seemed to be at ease, for some reason. Like she trusted Rei's judgement and supported her choice already. And you want to ask her just how she trusts someone she hasn't even met yet with Touya's heart and fragile state, but her next words explain it all.

"It's the same woman who treated Rei. The same woman who took care of her when she was admitted."

The shift in your express is palpable. You obviously weren't aware that Rei had been admitted into a hospital herself. But your hand curls into a fist of disappointment, not exactly surprised that Enji's abuse managed to damage her mental health too. He had certainly done a good job of hiding the truth of his family all those years he spent in the spotlight, and the thought makes you grind your teeth in frustration.

"I see."

Your supervisor's nod is curt and final, pleased that you've agreed to this one thing. You leave the hospital with a heavy heart, spent and tired. You're not even sure how you managed to drive home, but you stumble into your apartment, not bothering to change as you collapse onto your bed with nothing but sheer exhaustion.

You'd woken up nearly three times that night, struggling to fall back asleep. You ended up on the floor at some point too, trying to find a reprieve while tossing and turning, wondering why sleep wouldn't envelop you in her blissful embrace.

In sleep, maybe you could escape your reality. In sleep, maybe you could avoid Touya. But he followed you, trailed you and refused to disappear. He showed up in your dreams, he showed up in your thoughts during the most mundane tasks, and you nearly dropped your breakfast bowl this morning because your plants casted a shadow on the wall that looked like his silhouette.

Touya was haunting you.

And you don't even want to think of his state back at the hospital, you won't allow yourself to. You spend the morning cleaning your entire apartment, and slotting some time in the day to look for some jobs online before you head to the hospital in the evening for your meeting.

Tora doesn't mind your clinginess. He lets you cuddle him and smother him in kisses, even though he was usually grumpy and opposed to too much affection. He indulged in you today, and that cheered you up a bit.

Currently, you're sitting on your couch and sipping on a warm cup of hot chocolate. The snow falls quietly outside, and with Tora curled up in your lap—you scroll through the various job listings online.

With your education, you could find a good job. You weren't going to try and apply to be a psychiatrist due to obvious reasons, but maybe you could try something new. It was a shot in the dark, but it was something.

Your doorbell rings, and the sound ricochets off the walls as you sit up. Tora hops off of your lap, meowing loudly in protest at the intrusion before he scurries off. You shake your head with a soft smile at his antics, before walking towards the door.

You're not sure who's on the other side. It could be the groceries you ordered, or maybe Tora's new toys—so you get on your tippy toes, All Might socks stretched taut from the action as you peek through the peephole.

You stagger backwards at the sight on the other side, physically feeling all the air be strung out of your lungs in an instant. Your hands are clammy as you carefully step away from the door. You don't know what he is doing here, but you open the door after another second—eyes hard and angry.

Enji Todoroki stands on the other side. Something flashes on his face with how quickly you open the door and the look on your face, but he bows his head immediately in greeting either way. There's a bouquet of flowers in his hands, and he holds them in a death grip, knuckles paling.

"Y/n, may I come in?" He questions, voice low and—was that guilt in his tone? You waver in the doorway, unsure. Your eyes are unblinking as you watch him keep his head down, waiting for your answer.

He hurt Touya, he hurt Rei, he hurt Natsuo, he hurt Fuyumi, he hurt Shoto, and he hurt you.

Enji can sense your hesitation and he sighs, nodding in understanding as his grip tightens on the bouquet. You watch the flower stems bend, nearly snapping as he squeezes his eyes shut in frustration.

You're too afraid to move. His body is tense, every muscle is. You're half afraid he's about to hit you and half afraid he was about to burst into tears.

"I'm sorry,"

"I understand I'm not wanted. I've left Rei and the children the house, I pay for it so they can all live comfortably together. I've accepted their disapproval—I understand it. But I need to mend my relationship with Touya. He's—He's the only thing keeping me going right now. I just want him to go home, and I can't leave him anymore. I can't."

Enji rests his head on the door frame, his grip on the flowers limp now. There's a soft purr sounding through the air, and he furrows his brows before glancing down and seeing your cat poking out between your legs���he notices your All Might socks, too.

He sighs, pushing himself off of the door frame when you don't say anything. He takes a step back, before he finally notices you've been holding the door wide open and were waiting for him to step inside the entire time.

"I have a few things I need to talk to you about. You can leave after, okay?"

Enji blinks in disbelief before nodding with a small grunt. He enters your apartment, shoulders sagging as his gaze flitters around. You wonder if it's because he thinks your living space is small—but brush off the prospect. That's not important right now. You needed to get some clear points about Touya across—this was your chance to help Touya, even if it was indirectly. He gives you the flowers, wincing as he realizes he was holding onto them a little too tightly. Your small smile eases some of his embarrassment, and you lead him to the living room shortly after.

It took Enji a long time to open up—the shell he had over himself was unbreakable, but you managed to get inside. Putting aside your patients' past and mistakes was something you were used to doing by now, but it was still difficult to talk to Enji after all he'd done.

When Enji spoke about Touya, he was more soft spoken. The usual bite in his tone vanished, like the sun disappearing on a cloudy day. You try to muster up the strength to be angry at him—to kick him out and slap him and tell him you never want to see his face again. But you can't, because when Enji looks at you—you see Touya's eyes.

He leaves after a few hours. It felt like the world stopped when he'd stepped into your home, and started all over again as he left. His posture was more relaxed as he muttered a quiet goodbye, and left.

Your conversation with Enji was... eye opening. Getting a glimpse into his mind was overwhelming, but at least now you managed to see his tainted view a little clearer. You sigh as you turn to look at the darkening sky outside, the stars twinkled in the dim light and you stand up, stretching a bit before your eyes catch sight of your laptop.

Shit. You'd missed today's meeting.

You're calling your supervisor moments later—apologizing profusely the moment she picks up for forgetting, begging to reschedule, and stuttering because you're strained and stressed and struggling terribly to form a single, coherent sentence.

"It's okay, Y/n. I took the meeting myself, okay? She's a good fit for Touya. You should...get some rest. Please."

She hangs up after that, and you lower the phone from your ear slowly. You can feel the lump in your throat forming, the burn behind your eyes intensifying as you take a steadying breath.

You try to use your breathing practices—but you can't remember them, dammit. Did you hold your breath for five seconds or ten? Were you supposed to be counting your heart beats for this exercise? Or was that for another one?

You're too tired to cry. Too tired to try and make sense of everything around you when it was anything but. It was complete discord everywhere you turned—everything was wrong. So very wrong.

There's nothing you can do but sleep. You stagger over to your bed, the blood in your body felt like it had been replaced with sand, weighing you down with every step you took. You slip into unconsciousness the moment your head hits the pillow.

But you just dream of him, again. You always do.

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

a/n; touya meets his new doctor next chapter :) also, y/n wearing all might socks in front of enji is how she rebels :P side not: i am sorryyy reader is so sad this chap. 🥲🥲 ALSO... NO TOUYA THIS CHAPTER??? ouch

tags!

@kawaiidemoneart @porusuniverse @starrmage @lilbeatlebear @bokukenmakuroo

@summercreolefanfictioner @dija200 @phtmmsqrde @sunaraii

@c-lunette @gh0stgirl333 @skullkittens @gurl-pls-evn-the-sharks-fear-me

@hawkwithsocks @suresnips @sugurusmoon @matchablossomsss @moonlitmorganite

@redr0sewrites @muimuiwisteria @sukunaspillow @starsryi

@eidolonwriter @dabislittlemouse @rueclfer @kelin-is-writing

@shugs1801 @imaginationmess

@lasa27 @sophiathefrog @etaerealboy @kooromin @sourbbyxo

@hvnares @ephmeraloblivion @lost-seraphiim @quokka-ina @jesuschrist2006

@stoned-anime-babe @qatiee @shadowsingers-redhood @alycat171

@21-princess

@xileonaaaa @rylerboi @blurryperrtymoonlight @mrcleans4headwrinkle @accidentpronedork

@exquisitenesss @miniatureempathknightpony @afterlife11

[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.

[azsazz]

Dead by Dawn (Part 20)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, poly!relationship, slow burn, undead, death, sex, anal, double penetration, fingering.

Word Count: 3539

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19)

_________________________________________

Day 196

���•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You sleep later than you normally do, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the two, warm bodies on either side of you, caressing and holding and kissing you in reassurance throughout the night, or if it’s because of the fluffiest, softest bed you’ve ever had the pleasure of sleeping on—yes, even before the world went to absolute shit. Perhaps it’s because there’s no worries about the undead crawling into your bed and tearing into your flesh in a tasty midnight snack, though you did wake in the early hours of the morning with Cassian down between your knees, ravaging your cunt like you were the antidote to all his needs. Whatever kept you tucked safely in a deep slumber, when you wake up the next morning, you feel like an entirely new person.

The downside is that you wake up alone.

You squint against the sun creeping in through the small, frosted windows of the basement room you, Cassian, and Azriel stumbled into post-shower for a second round of fun. They both exhausted you in the most blissful way. You can still feel their hands on your body, trailing down your spine, caressing between your thighs, poking, prodding, petting. You have the marks to prove that last night wasn’t just the best dream you’ve had in your entire life.

You roll over, body aching in the best way. You shove your face into Azriel’s pillow to hide your grin. The fabric smells like the soap you all shared in the shower, but somehow the scent suits Azriel perfectly. Musky. Metallic like fresh rain. A sharp sting of midnight.

You take your time properly getting up. You find extra clothes in the dresser by the door. A t-shirt that’s a size too big, and you opt to wear a pair of men’s boxers you found in the top drawer. You need to assess the state of your jeans and you’re sure they won’t be pretty. Maybe you and your group will stay long enough that you can wash your clothes and leave them to dry before you make your next move, whatever that may be.

You could scrounge in your pack for your spare set of clothes, but you’re still clinging to the daze of the night to bother. Hopefully, no one recognizes the clothes you borrowed as their own.

You trail up the stairs, following the sound of soft murmuring. Rhysand hadn’t woken you during the night, so you assume that there has been no change in Feyre’s state. You will check on her first thing when you make it upstairs.

A pang of guilt stabs you in the chest. While you were fooling around with Cassian and Azriel, your best friend was lying comatose on the dining room table with a bite on her arm and an infection crawling in her veins.

She’s okay, you remind yourself. She’s immune.

Whatever that might mean.

Your eyes connect with Azriel’s when you round the corner into the living room, his hazel eyes drag down your body in a leisurely sweep that makes you blush and your body heat. You’d grab him by the collar of his fresh, gray shirt—a color you’ve never seen him in, but he looks mighty delectable in—if you didn’t have an audience.

Cassian sits on the couch beside Azriel. He’s shirtless, like he couldn’t be bothered to dig around in a drawer or his pack for a shirt. Your mind wanders to an image of something more domestic, where he’d tend to his gardens on the weekend while you sat on the porch, a book in your lap that you couldn’t concentrate on because of the skin of his muscular, gleaming back in the sunlight. Azriel would be there, too, beside you with his computer on his lap. Maybe he’d be booking a surprise vacation for the three of you or ordering you chocolates because Cassian doesn’t like receiving flowers. For someone who spends most of his time elbow deep in dirt, it’s the pretty, frilly flowers that flare his allergies.

You’re snapped from your daydream when Cassian raises his hands to you, waving you over. You swear that your cheeks turn a deeper shade of red at the motion. He wants you to sit in his lap. You want to sit in his lap, but you need to check on Feyre, first.

She lies splayed out on the couch, eyes closed, mouth parted. Her chest rises and falls evenly enough for your shoulders to drop a little in relief.

You check her pulse. It’s steady albeit slightly weaker than it should be. Then, you carefully unwrap the wound, cringing when the gauze tries desperately to cling to the remnants of dried blood.

The stench hits you first. It wafts from the wound like putrid death. Your lungs constrict and your stomach revolts. You barely hold yourself back from slapping a hand over your mouth and nose, barely hold back from getting sick. You don’t need to be known for doing throwing up more than once in this nice home. You have a feeling that Nesta wouldn’t appreciate it.

“What’s wrong?” Cassian asks, worried. He springs from the couch, Azriel and Rhysand going still behind him, their quiet conversation cutting off abruptly as their attention latches onto you. Rhysand looks like he’s about to vault from the sofa to your side. His violet eyes blaze with worry, his brows furrowed deeply, even when you wave off the men in your group.

“It’s fine,” you reassure, reveling in the warmth of the hand Cassian plants on your lower back. You want to lean into him, but you revert your attention to your friend. “I just didn���t expect the smell,” you admit, carefully breathing shallow breaths through your teeth as you examine the day-old bite.

It looks like any other wound, minus the black, spidering veins that crawl up her arm. They taper off near her elbow, where you assume her white blood cells are working overtime to battle the infection. From what you’ve seen of Elain’s mark, it will take weeks for the wound to fully heal, but you fear the new color of her veins that peek from beneath her skin are here to stay.

You take another pass at it with expired peroxide. The wound bubbles minimally, and you slather on some of the antibiotic ointment that Lucien gave that he mentioned helped Elain’s bite. Hers has been healing slowly but steadily and only scabbing remains.

Feyre mumbles something under her breath when you swipe the ointment against her skin. It’s incoherent, something you don’t catch, but it has Rhys rising off the couch and crossing the room in the span of seconds. He caresses her face gently, whispering soothing words to her. It’s a scene too intimate for you to watch, so you quickly avert your attention to re-wrapping her arm.

Once you’ve finished and checked her temperature with the back of your palm, you allow Cassian to pull you back toward the couch, even tug you into his lap. You settle as much as you can, which proves to be difficult with the way that his cock twitches beneath your ass when you squirm, trying to readjust.

Cassian’s hands clamp down on your hips, keeping you still. You can’t help but peek over your shoulder at him with a teasing smile twitching at your lips. His eyes are alight with the promise of his cock between your legs again, and you can’t help but wonder where and when. This very sofa? Bent over the counter in the kitchen? Up against the barn you saw out back?

You clear your throat very carefully. “What were you talking about?”

The relaxation from the morning quickly dims as the horrors of the world creep back up as you stare at your best friend. A sour feeling twists your stomach. You’ve both been through so much, and you always knew it was a possibility that something like this could happen, but you never allowed the thought take root in your mind.

“We were discussing our next move,” Azriel fills you in, straight to the point as always. His arms are crossed over his chest, and you ache to reach your hand out to him, see if he’s willing to hold your hand. With the emotion that crosses his features, something hard-set and annoyed, you refrain. “So far, Rhys and Cassian think we should stay.”

“And you don’t?” you question.

“Do you?” He counters, carefully.

Azriel allows you to see the vulnerability in his hazel eyes. For a second it’s there, then is replaced by that stoic mask he’s perfected. He wants your honest opinion, and unfortunately, it’s all too easy to sift through the pros of being here to reach the reasons that you shouldn’t stay.

Your silence permeates the air. The men give you time to think, but after a few minutes of silence, the tension in the air thickens.

“What is it?” Rhys breaks the silence, studying you intently. You busy yourself with playing with Cassian’s fingers, but even he twists his hand around and grips yours tightly, stilling your movements.

You eye Feyre on the sofa for a long moment while you gather your thoughts. Her chest rises and falls in a steady motion, and for that you’re thankful.

“It’s just…” you trail off, squeezing Cassian’s hand for reassurance. You peer over at Rhys, then Azriel, and Cassian behind you. “Doesn’t this all seem a little too good to be true? It feels like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Cassian leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple that warms you to your toes.

You melt into him, chasing the feeling of his lips on your skin. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he murmurs, and goosebumps breakout across your skin at the sentiment. “Leave the worrying to us.”

And Godsdamn, if that isn’t the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard in your short-lived life.

But you’ve never been one to not worry.

You risk a glance at Azriel, who stares at you like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. You blush under the intensity of his stoic features, and heat floods between your thighs. His fingers creep along the cushion of the couch and find yours. You hold on tightly.

“This is the best position we’ve been in in months,” Rhys says with a sigh. He looks exhausted, and maybe you can offer to stay by Feyre’s side while he cleans up and gets some rest. He rubs a hand across his jaw. “We found her sisters, which has been her goal from the start, has it not?” He asks, looking at you.

It’s true. Feyre has finally been reunited with her sisters, even if she doesn’t know it yet. It’s all you’ve wanted for her, too, but there’s something about how protected their group has been behind these gates that has you wondering. How were they so prepared for the end of the world? You know Eris mentioned something about his father, but something isn’t adding up right here.

“It is,” you agree, then shrug. “Maybe I’m wrong.”

“We’ll keep an eye out,” Azriel reassures you. “Make sure we don’t slip up. At the first sign of trouble, we’re gone.”

To whom the hell knows where goes unsaid.

The five of you sit in silence, all lost in your own thoughts. Cassian’s hand trails soothingly up and down your arm, and you feel like you could fall right back asleep against his chest.

“What are we doing today?” You ask, trying to keep your eyes open. It’s difficult, but you don’t want to spend any longer sleeping the day away, especially with the was the sun pours through the windows.

“Eris is going to show me the gardens today,” Cassian says, and you smile at the excitement in his voice. This is what he’s been searching for, of course he would want to stay and begin his garden. It’ll benefit everyone, and maybe helping will make you feel less like a freeloader in this luxurious home. “When he gets back from a supply run with Nesta.”

“And you?” You ask Rhys.

“I’m staying right here until Feyre wakes up,” he says, and your heart swells at the adoration in his eyes for your friend. She needs to wake up more than ever.

“No offense, Rhys,” you say, and wrinkle your nose for effect. “You need to shower. You reek.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’ve smelled worse.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to,” you counter. “I’ll stay with her, you know. She’ll be okay.”

He looks weary but eventually nods and takes his leave, moving quickly, like every moment spent apart from Feyre is a pain like no other.

Looking between Cassian and Azriel, you agree with the sentiment.

The back door opens, carrying Eris and Nesta’s voices along with it. They’re home from their trip and before you can move from Cassian’s lap to ask if they need assistance with anything, Nesta emerges from the hall, striding toward her sister like she’s on a mission.

It’s instinct to rip yourself from your seat, to protect Feyre, but Nesta’s only checking her temperature the same way you did a few minutes ago. She’s just worried about her sister, you remind yourself, trying to calm your racing heart.

Eris appears in the doorway, amber eyes tracking Nesta before latching onto Cassian’s. “You ready for that tour?”

Cassian stands, planting you on your feet. Nesta slips from the room, brushing past Eris with a brush of their fingers, most likely to check on her other sister. Cassian meets Eris at the door, Cassian listening eagerly to every word Eris says as he’s lead back to the rear door of the home.

“Why don’t you go with Cassian and Eris,” Azriel suggests softly, brushing a longing touch down your arm.

You can’t help that your gaze flickers back to Feyre. You already feel guilty for abandoning her for a shower and sex with not one but two men. You shouldn’t leave her alone now. What if she wakes up? What if something happens and you’re not around to help?

“I’ll watch her.” Azriel’s voice draws your attention. “I promise.”

“Okay,” you agree reluctantly. Azriel rewards you with a short and sweet kiss that holds the promise of more. You almost chase him, almost wrap your arms around his neck to keep his mouth pressed firmly against yours. You almost whine when he straightens, hazel eyes glowing with mischief, a barely-there smile tilting the corners of his mouth just enough that your breath catches in your chest.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You didn’t realize how much there was to talk about plants.

Seriously, you don’t think you’ve understood a single word Cassian and Eris are talking about. Of course, Cassian would have questions, you just didn’t think that Eris would have answers, but he does, even the ones to your boyfriends most obscure queries.

But with the way that Cassian eagerly drinks in every word Eris says is too adorable to miss. He hasn’t let go of your hand since you joined Eris on the back porch, Cassian excitedly squeezes it every time he hears something he likes. His hazel eyes glitter with joy, and your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest with happiness.

The garden shed is smaller than the barn but well organized. You spot the tops of carrots, cabbage, even strawberries. Sunlight streams through the glass roof and there’s a doorway that leads to the outside part of the garden, which you have yet to walk through. It’s massively impressive, positioned far enough away from the fences that you wonder if whoever selected this spot knew about what was to come.

Your stomach growls, so loudly that it interrupts the conversation Eris and Cassian are engrossed in. Both men stop to peer down at you, their eyes glittering with amusement.

“Sorry,” your face blushes hot and you shrink in your spot.

Cassian chuckles and tugs you into his chest with ease. He seems the most relaxed of the group, being here, and you wish that some of that feeling would rub off on you, but it hasn’t yet. There’s still a mass of uncertainty in the bottom of your gut.

Eris takes a few steps away, giving you and Cassian some privacy.

“Why don’t you go find some lunch?” he asks, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. His touch is tender, eyes soft and happy, and you want to throw your arms around his neck and kiss the daylights out of him, taste a little bit of that sunshine that radiates from his smile. “I’ll be in after we finish up here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he bends down and pecks you on the mouth. You pout when he pulls away and a deep laugh rumbles Cassian’s chest. You wanted a longer kiss, a much longer one. “Go on, get your lunch,” he whispers. A shiver drags up your spine, trailing that path Cassian’s teasing fingers make. “We have all night for kisses, sweetheart.”

You read the promise in his eyes. Something coils pleasurably between your legs, and the urge to grab Cassian’s hands and press it against your core is strong, but you are in company. You glance at Eris who peers down at his shoes, offering you what little privacy there is in the small greenhouse.

Your gaze flickers back to Cassian, drinking in his wicked grin. You swallow hard and manage to say your goodbyes, trailing out of the garden shed. Maybe if Rhys is back at his post by Feyre, you can convince Azriel for an afternoon quickie.

The sun beams across your shoulders as you make your way toward the large house. You can the yard, drinking in the scenery. It’s an entirely different world. Like the apocalypse isn’t real within the gates of the Vanserra mansion. They have a well-fortified home, food, weapons, clean water, medical supplies…it truly is an anomaly, which is why you think that there must be something wrong.

Your gaze snags on the barn. It’s painted a rusty orange color. There’s a wrought-iron crest above the barn doors, the Vanserra crest. It’s a shield split into four sections. In the top-left, there’s a leaf, falling from a tree. Beside it is a rapier, and you wonder what the story behind each section of the crest is. Vines wrap around the edges of the shield, and the bottom-left icon is a silhouette of a man and a woman holding hands. Huh, you wonder. Maybe you’ll ask Lucien what they mean.

The icon on the bottom-right has fallen off, and even though you squint, you can’t make out the shape of the sun-faded mark.

You take a detour for a better look. You wouldn’t mind peeking into the barn to see the animals as well. You know they have chickens, because that’s what you’ve been eating for most meals, but you wonder if there are horses or cows or goats. You’d take joy in seeing a living, breathing animal.

You’re a few feet from the barn door when Lucien appears, calling your name. Your head snaps to the side, where he’s approaching with an easy grin. You relax, but your heart continues to race at the scare.

“There you are,” he says, stopping a few feet between you and the barn. “I was looking for you, wanted to invite you to lunch with Nesta, Elain, and I.” He gives you an easy smile, one that you return.

Lucien nods to the back porch where Nesta and Elain sit at the long table. Elain looks livelier today. There’s more color to her face and a soft smile on her face as she speaks to her sister.

“How is she doing?” You ask, relenting as your stomach growls at the mention of food. Seeing the animals can wait.

“Better today,” Lucien admits, staring admiringly at his girlfriend. Your chest aches at the love he has for her in his eyes. If something like that had happened to Cassian or Azriel, you’re not sure you’d survive.

Your eyes fall on Nesta, and the hair at the nape of your neck stands tall. Her sharp, silver gaze is pinned on you. Her features are set in neutral, but her stare still burns with each step you take closer to the house. It’s a feeling that you certainly haven’t gotten used to yet.

“Are Azriel and Rhys joining us?” you ask. There’s something about sitting with the three of them alone that’s unsettling you, and you don’t know what it is. You’d prefer to have one of your friends with you, and you assure yourself that it’s because the last time any of you have split up, things haven’t ended well. “I believe they were in the middle of a heated discussion when I went to invite them earlier, but I will check again,” Lucien explains, and pulls out a chair. The metal legs screech against the stone deck and you cringe. “Here, take a seat and dig in. I’ll be right back.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DBD Taglist:��@writingsbychlo @kemillyfreitas @5moremin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @waggel36  @bionic-donut @queserasera @applepie02 @azrielsbabyg @arcadianmoonlight @pradaxstyles @illyrian-dreamerdreamer @reiincarnatiion @fuckthatfeeling @shadowsingersmate24 @poppyalice2001 @fallmyriad @sstrohma @tcris2020 @jeannineee @21stcenturytaegi @ochiolism @secretly-here @harrystylesfan2686 @i-am-infinite @lees-chaotic-brain @eternallyelvish @lilah-asteria @randombibitch @st4r-girl-official @nanisearchinginnerpeace @aemondsb1tch @chxosangxl @marigold-morelli @w0nderw0manly

[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.”

[fancyfeathers]

Ideas!!!

V!Jason’s Darling does tragically (like how Jason did) and is brought back by the Lazarus Pit and grows close to Damian and THAT’S how V!Damian and his darling meet in this au.

One day, all the sisters are out in Gotham’s nicest park and the Batboys are all nearby, watching their Darling. V!Damian’s Darling is playing with their pet dog, V!Tim’s Darling is drinking her coffee (dead inside), V!Jason’s Darling is reading her course textbooks over and over again and V!Dick’s Darling I making sure all the sandwiches are ready.

V!Damian’s Darling runs off after the dog, and bumps into V!Dick…..

Yandere!Batboys as Villains with Robin!Darlings AU Masterlist

If Jason’s darling does get killed since she is the second Robin in this universe, then Joker is a dead man walking.

Either Jason is going to find out that his favorite bird has died and is going to have the Joker’s head or torture him until the clown stops laughing as revenge. Hell, Jason will even personal torture and kill the Joker the exact same way the Joker killed his darling so he knows exactly what it feels like to go through that without the fun of being the one inflicting the pain but the agony of the one receiving it.

Or

Before Harvey became Two Face and his eldest darling has died and on top of that his daughter was Robin and he never knew until it was too late, then when Harvey does have his accident and becomes Two Face then the first person on his hit list is the man who took his daughter’s life.

Either way the Joker is not making it out of that alive, but Jason’s darling will…

Now Damian will probably meet his darling while Jason’s darling is dead, and what better way to get to know her weaknesses than by gaining the trust of the person closest to her.

So Damian will have Jason’s darling dug up and brought to him so he can throw her in a Lazarus Pit and be by her side while she recovers from the trauma of being resurrected. The grandson of the demon is almost uncharacteristically gentle with her while listening to her talk to him about her little sister, not quite aware enough to realize what she’s being manipulated into revealing, and what she is revealing is every little thing…

How her little sister gets nightmares from when they were waiting in the courthouse for their dad because they were supposed to have a day with him after he was done with work but instead he is taken out by paramedics and how the emergency responders told them not to look and how her little sister got a glimpse of their dad’s face when the ambulance doors closed. So because of those nightmares she came into her big sister’s room when she could not sleep because despite the fact that she was almost an adult at that point she still wanted her dad.

How her little sister sneaks out when she gets into a fight with Bruce and runs off to stay with Kate Kane for a week or two until Bruce and her make up. So that’s why Robin is with Batwoman 1/4 of the time.

Or how her little sister has violent thoughts that she copes with and when Damian carved into her back and branded her, she told her big sister afterwards how she graphically wants to get revenge, claw out his eyes, break his windpipe, snap his spine. But she could never do such a thing, not because of the Batman’s no killing code, but simply because she does not have the heart to do it, so instead she takes every pinch or stab that is inflicted on her.

By the time Jason’s darling is fully recovered (or as recovered as she can be), Damian knows every soft point his darling has that he can poke and pry at until she breaks.

And it’s going to be fun.

It is kind of cute you picture all the Robin!Darlings being a family. Like Bruce gave them the night off for one of their birthdays or just because, so they actually get to sleep and do things during the day.

Also like imagining Titus and Alfred the Cat being Damian’s darling’s pets instead is now canon, also Ace is definitely one of her babies too.

But anyway, I think the one who would most likely to run into them outside of the costumes would probably be Tim since Dick runs the circus in this AU and would really have time after shows to see his darling or her sisters, or when Dick gets caught eventually then he would go underground for awhile if he broke out of Arkham Asylum, he has so many people who would owe him after he got rid of someone who was hurting them that he could stay hidden, but I’m getting side tracked…

Anyway I definitely think Tim would stalk his darling in the daylight, she’s out of costume, less on guard, and Tim has her under the impression that he could never hurt a fly, let alone be a member of the Court of Owls, besides everyone in Gotham thinks the Court of Owls is just a myth.

But he would definitely snap photos of his darling when she’s at the park with her sisters, both biological and not. He has album upon album of photos of just her, an album for each of her sisters, and then he prints out his favorites to frame in his room, or just to have for his personal use.

But on top of photographs, he collects blackmail, he has so much blackmail on everyone in their family, including their secret identities, that if he wanted to he could have his darling begging for mercy at the end of the week…

But where is the fun in ending the game so soon?

Now what is more likely for how Dick meets Damian’s Darling is when Dick meets his own darling, say if she goes undercover with Dick’s darling to investigate the disappearance of people who go to the circus. A little sister going with her big sister to the circus, a perfectly normal thing .

But neither had any idea that Dick was stalking them and already knew everything about his darling and Damian’s darling’s identities. So she ends up tied up in a room full of the Ringmaster’s victims and she is sitting there horrified was Dick explains everything they did to deserve to die…

They just have to wait for Batman to show up and rescue them.

But when they are back home there is the question of how Dick got information on them?

Well you all know how Haly’s Circus worked with the Court of Owls? Who ever said they stopped?

[fuckingstrange]

Dumbasses, amr?

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

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.

[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.

[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.

[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!