#so he can kill them without anyone noticing should he need to

[volvolts]

ok so one thing i cant stop thinking about is that i think that belos should have less grimwalker corspes

not because of downplaying his evilness like even killing one is bad but like. the logistics?? how many grimwalkers did he go through? how many of them with wildly different personalities? appearances? hunter is shown walking around the castle without his garb and the other coven heads KNOW what he looks like. the last golden guard was darius' mentor. was that in secret and he was killed when belos found out or did he allow that?

morever did all of them think they were belos' nephew? hunter was pretty open telling luz about this fact so did every single one say the same thing? they were ALL named hunter after a while so did no one stop to think about that?

[lustlovehart]

Monster!Twst is so good

I haven’t seen the entire lore but… I’d love to cuddle with slime Azul, I’d be more interested in studying them than killing them..

Since requests are open, how would the monster boys react to you trying to study them? Like by observing their bodies and behavior, and being sweet to them.

A/n: Just like the monsters list, characters who haven’t had their species revealed yet, will stay vague to avoid spoilers! and Fellow and Skully are here too— There’s also a new rule for requests! Anything above 5 characters will be in headcanon format rather than full fics! This also, ended up being way longer than it needed to be…

Pairing: [Monster!Twst] x Reader ft, Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Cater, Trey, Leona, Jack, Ruggie, Azul, Jade, Floyd, Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Epel, Rook, Idia, Malleus, Sebek, Silver, Lilia, Rollo, Neige, Fellow, Skully

Warnings: Flirting (That Reader reciprocates w/o knowing), Obssesion, Posseive Traits, Reader is in their personal space, Indirect Kissing, Some are suggestive, mentions of their crimes, a lot of spelling errors, some are cheesy, Mentions of marking

Honestly, It really depends on when you try studying them. If you attempt this on your first meeting rather than later down the line, they’ll assume you’re like every other Monster Hunter who’s come after them. Out of the thousands, at least 500 of them must’ve tried studying their behaviors. Their attempts fail, as all of them don’t take very keenly to being used as guinea pigs to find more out about their species. Anyone who’s tried advancing their understanding, have disapeared without a trace.

However, If you’re you, and do this later in the line after your respective first meeting, it really depends on the monsters them self.

Those who like it/Help you

- Riddle, is actually very keen on helping you pursue your knowledge in the vast world of monsters (Only you though, anyone else ended up becoming a monster themself, or dead.) You should be more educated in this field, and truthfully, Riddle might as well be the reason why you know must of these beasts weaknesses. Though, you do find it a bit interesting he leaves details on ghosts vague. Unbeknownst to you, if anyone else was around, they would no doubt tell you he was doing it to knock out the rest of his competition much easier.

He grows a really bright red when your face is practically inches away from his unattainable physical form, which just makes it more embarrassing for him. For heavens sake, he doesn't even have an actual body for you to come close to, yet his knuckles tremble when your face is practically placed in the crook of his as your fingers ghost over his stitches. You can only feel the cold his figure provides, yet it doesn’t stop him from feeling all the warmth you exude in your fingertips alone.

“You’re very pretty when you glow Riddle.” He’s sure he would’ve died a second death at this moment if it was possible. He shoos away the thought when he sees the pure smile you grace him with. He inhales a deep breath, allowing himself to pretend to hold your hand in his, leaning his upper half forward.

“And… You don’t need to glow to be…” he doesn’t finish his sentence, quickly closing his mouth again when you’re the one who leans closer into him. “Pretty.” He doesn’t even realize the words leave his mouth, his posture straightening immediately.

Your hand leaves his own at his words, the apparition looking up in confusion at your hesitance. “That reminds me of someone…”

… That wretched monster hunter you’ve taken to calling your “one and only”.

You won’t ever notice it, but his hollow hands grip themselves so hard, he digs his nails into his palm. Something that shouldn’t be possible. It seems you cause a rage so deep, Riddles capable of transcending the rules of the after life.

- “Deuce… Please stop moving. It’s hard to do any examining while you’re squirming...” Can you blame him?! It’s really hard to stay calm while you’re practically chest to chest to him!! He can feel the warmth from your still beating heart through your skin transfer to his hollow cavity. If he thinks hard enough, he can imagine the two of you becoming one with each other, falling so deeply in love your hearts combine… Just like his mother told him. (All the more reason for you to not leave!) He understands he agreed to give his body for “education”, but it still doesn’t stop that rapid succession of panic that sets through him. If he still had running blood, he’s sure he’d be just as bright as Riddle…

His thought are further seized when he can feel your fingers intertwine around his, hushed whispers of what’s and unattainable stuttering filling the air. “You can still feel perfectly fine right? Or is it phantom pain…?”

“I… I can still feel you…— It…! I can still feel it…” He’s extremely flustered the whole time you conduct your research on him. You’re not sure why he’s so nervous… But to him, it must be so obvious why he’s freaking out…!

You encase his face in your hands, waiting for his sole eye to connect with yours. He finally stills, the hue of your pupils a comforting color in his eyes, his posture naturally relaxing.

“Calm down Deuce, I’ve barely even done anything!” You… Haven’t…?! But that felt like so much in just a minute. You release him from your grasp, slowly reaching towards the empty cavity in his chest.

His heart is exposed, just like how expressive he is with his emotions. The moment you reach out, he catches your wrist, a bone cracking grasp halting your movements.

“There’s a human here.” Those words don’t need any piecing together, but you don’t even have the chance to stop him before he leaves, a hunger in his movements. It’s… shocking how quick his countenance can go from flustering to… scary.

- Floyd run #1. The moment you mention even the slightest interest in him (his species, not him specifically, but his ears automatically drown that out.), he’s grabbing your ankle and pulling you into the water with him. His slimy tail tightly wraps around you while the sharp bone sticking out acts like armor for your bottom half. Or perhaps a cage. Works as both honestly.

Either way, your dragged to a remote beach, finally unraveled from Floyds limb, only to be pinned underneath his clawed hands on the hot sand.

“What does shrimpy wanna know then “huh~? I’ll let yah feel me up all yah want...“ You don’t know how he makes that one eye he has so intimidating, but he does, a little too well. You can’t really reply before Floyd roughly grasps your wrist, pulling your limb close to his chest and dragging your palm so you feel that cold wet skin of his. Despite how enthusiastic he is with make you touch every part of him, there’s a softness to his rough grasp. Hard enough to have you know every part of him, but soft enough to never truly hurt you. “Shrimpy should let me feel em’ up too.”

You pause, looking up at him from your spot in the sand, a goofy smile paiting his lips, as if he doesn’t eat sailors on a daily basis. That boyish grin is wiped off when he feels you place his clawed, webbed fingers on your chest.

“You’re bein’ real nice. I’ll let yah get a stab at me yeah? After that though you gotta let me eat those two Mackrel and Crabby zombies that follow you around everywhere okay~?“ he leans down from his once propped up position, his palm still laid on your beating heart as he rests his chin on your shoulder, looking up at you with a fondness undeserving on a monster.

“Absouloutely not.“

“Aww, and I thought you liked me more than those two...“ he sounds upset at the loss of a meal, but the way his tail wraps around your legs tell you he feels the exact opposite.

- Jade run #2. He’s just as, if not even more so, enthusiastic at the prospect of you researching me just like Floyd. The way he goes about it however is entirely different. While Floyd will look at you with the fondest of smiles as he practically offers himself up as sacrifice for you, Jade weirdly enough, makes you feel like you’re the one working for this research.

“You wish to know more about serpents? Then, come i’ll allow you to run those humane hands all over. Please be gentle with me.” You think you’re being gentle, slowly reaching your hands out to feel his cool skin, only for him to duck out last moment. You try again and you’re palm is met with only air, a gentleman’s smile plastered on his face.

“Oh? What’s wrong? Do you perhaps not wish to touch me? My my… and I thought you were kind.” The forced sniffles and non-existent tears he wipes from his eye serve as a reminder to who Jade is. His eye widens when he feels soft hands grip his shoulders pinning him to hot gold sand. “It seems, Floyd wasn’t lying when he said you’re fun.” his hand finds itself around your wrist, a gentle cold hold grasps itself on your skin, a shiver going down your spine at the contact. “Will you dissect me? Or perhaps you’ll eat me. If it’s the later, I do hope i’m suitable to your tastes.” at the mention of food he lifts your limb to his mouth, allowing sharp fangs to trace them self over your palm.

“You’re being weird Jade.”

“Is asking to conduct research on a living being not weird as well?” the pressure from his canines increase, at this point you won’t be surprised if blood peeks out. “Humans have an interesting tradition if not.” his words make him pause before releasing his hold on your wrist, his hand quickly flying to your neck to pull you down. “I wonder, have you researched other humans like this too?”

There’s a certain malice in his eyes, only visible if you focus extremely hard.

“No…? Why would I find other humans interesting? I’d rather be here than studying things I already know…”

He’s silent for a moment, which is almost always never a good thing. But the way he smiles with soft slitted eyes at your answer tells you he must be satisfied.

- Kalim is so happy telling you about him! If you think about it, it’s like you’re a couple talking about your day! (It’s really not considering he’s describing all the heinous wishes people have asked him to grant.)

The moment he opens his mouth to describe everything he knows about Genies, he pauses before sagging down into you.

He actually… Doesn’t know very much… Jamil is the one who always keeps record of this stuff, so he doesn’t know very much about himself. But…! He can’t just let Jamil tell you all about him! He’s not trying to be mean but, he wants to be the one who teaches you, not Jamil!

He’s quick to perk up at the first thought that comes to mind. He’ll get you to talk about yourself first! So while you’re telling him about yourself, he can think about Genie facts.

“Do Genies—”

“What’s your favorite food?!” This plan backfires when he completely forgets the “Genie facts” part and is too absorbed in knowing you better. By the time you’re finished and finally resume this interview of yours, he’s quick to remember his lack of answer.

He’ll laugh it off with ease though, just telling you if you wish for it, he’ll grant it. (Please wish for it so then he can answer you…!)

“I’m… good…” He’ll repeatedly ask you if you’re sure, if you don’t want him to grant all your wishes. (He has broken the 3 wish limit multiple times for you. You’re not sure how he does it, but he does.)

“Y’know what, I’ll try asking Jamil okay?” You’re under the impression Kalim will agree to this idea. You’re quickly proven wring when Kalim blocks your path and insists he’ll remember something! Just… Don’t rely on Jamil this time, Kalim wants to be the one you depend on for once.

- Sometimes you have the sneaking suspicion Rook is studying you instead of the other way around... Touches that start out as expermientations turn into lingering grazes from Rook, who can’t seem to let go of your hand. It’s even worse if you’re in a dimly lit area, with the shadows that surround you two practically suffocating. You’re assured that this darkness is Rook’s overwhelming... Affection... At play.

“Amour, it’s okay! Allow me to show you all of me.” His shadowed fingers gently intertwined with your own, his eyes glowing a bright green in the dark of night, quickly shitting them when he begins his monologue “Truly…! To be bare in front of each other is the truest form of beauty…” you get that Rooks certainly eccentric, but you didn’t expect him to be this ecstatic.

Through the window, the light of the moon slightly peaks through the glass, cutting the shade that adorns your body and illuminating your features in a pretty white. “To be a beast you wish to know so intimately… Maqnifique…!—“ he finally opens those glowing eyes of his to gaze at your sitting form, finally noticing the pretty shine the moon gives you.

For once, Rook isn’t talking about beauty. He’s only staring at you in silence, his eyes wide with a hunger. It’s like… he’s gluttonous with the visage of you, greedily consuming the sight into his memory. He finally breaks out of his stupor when he leans down, touching his forehead to your own with a gentleness unbecoming for the shadow monster. You’re left to stare deep into his olive pupils, letting his fingers brush against your cheek.

“My, have you noticed how dirty you are trickster?” When he finishes wiping the soil from your face, he remains still, not moving his forehead away from yours in the slightest.

“Well, I ran through the forest so…”

“Even with grime on you, there’s a beauty held in that sight.” You’re too absorbed in his eyes, in his words, to notice the way tendrils of shadows curl around your waist, a gentle hold gripping you. “I’m sure whatever filth covers you, i’ll never be able to take my eyes off you, never.”

You believe his sweet words, those whispers of adoration serving as a confidence booster for yourself.

But… You can’t help but worry about him always watching you.

- Malleus tilts his head at you. He... Doesn’t get it. Is this a humans courting ritual? Why are you insistent on practically sitting over him for “research“. He won’t lie and say he doesn’t like it, if anything he’ll be a bit too forward with his enjoyment at this development of you on him, yet he still doesn’t know why you need too.

Even though he doesn’t really get it, he’ll still gladly lend you his entirety for you to satiate your curiosity. In return, he’d like to examine you too. Waking up to cold stone leaning over you is certainly a scary sight, glowing moss staring down into your soul as Malleus moves even closer to your once slumbering form.

“Malleus? What are you doing…?”

“You called it research.” You look up at him, a sigh leaving your throat before sitting up, tired eyes piercing through that stone exterior. Your bed creaks at the shift in weight, more drastically than usual considering a being of pure stone, who’s also very tall, is perched on your mattress.

“So, you wanna research me?” He blinks a few times before admitting that he does. He wants to know how intimate this is, surely this studying doesn’t call for the proximity you always commit when studying him, or even the watchful eye you have whenever he’s going about his day. Malleus isn’t a fool, far from it, he’s not naive. He understands the general consensus with finding knowledge, he’s just unsure if the way you do it, is more personal.

In truth, he wants to know if you research the other monsters who are utterly enchanted by you, the same way. If that’s the case… He’s not quite sure if anyone, including you, will be capable of quenching the rage that will sure from his castle. He’s sure the entire world will suffer the wrath he’ll release.

These thoughts disperse when your fingers trace the patterns on his horns with a tenderness he’s not familiar with. All the more reason to be addicted to your touch. He leans into your warmth on instinct, closing his eyes as the stone of his body visibly relaxes despite its solidity. You pause when Malleus opens his eyes again, a firmness in his voice that’s entirely different from the softness he just displayed.

“Do you touch the others like this too?”

“Uhm… I kinda have to if I wanna know more about them—“ A boom of lightning cracks the window to your side, glass shattering all over the space. Your skin is only narrowly avoided due to Malleus’s swift shielding of your body, your skin feeling cold hard stone.

“I see.”

- Lilia practically jumps on you instead of vice versa, letting you examine each part of him up close and personal. Occasionally he’ll chuckle and ask you if you’re enjoying this lesson in anatomy. If you tilt your head at him in confusion, he’ll smile before scooping you into his arms with his incredibly small stature that’s unfit to carry such a load, and jump out a window. For what you reason you don’t know but when you finish screaming he’ll tell you all about the differnt times he’s horrified people to feed off them.

Don’t ask what kind of feed he means though, whether it’s vitality or literal, you won’t ask questions.

Or, if you tell him you are enjoying such a lecture, you commit an act many hunters have attempted to pull on him but failed. You make Lilia stop in his tracks. He’s quick to recover though, asking you if you’d like to go further in your studies, a fiendish smile on his lips as he leans in a hairs width away from you.

You’re quick to walk away and ponder what he meant by further. Like, eating people? Or maybe showing you his other capabilities.

Or... Something else...?

- Skully is so enthusiatic when you bring up any hint towards studying him. For a moment, he malfunctions, blinking his eight bright orange eyes in your direction before scooping you up and placing kisses all over you, be it on your hand or on your face. In some instances, he’s only an inch away from truly kissing you on your lips. He caims he wants to save that for a speacial occasion later. What that is, you don’t wanna know.

He’ll quickly place your hands on different parts of his body, a fang filled smile gushing about his different qualities. See this? That’s how he sticks to walls! And this!? That’s how he climbs when he doesn’t feel like using his human legs! Oh oh! This is how he eats!!!

Sometimes he even has you examine parts of him that you share in common. The way he shows you though is different, more tender in a sense. He’ll delicately grab your hand and reach it towards his chest, shedding articles of cover to let your palm touch skin to skin to his beating heart.

“That’s how I live.“ you already knew that, you have one too- “With you though, I don’t need it as much.“ you’re starting to question where it is exactly this spider gets all his confidence... Little do you know when you leave he wraps himself in a cacoon while freaking out about how he just said that to you.

Unlike the others on this list though, he won’t provide you information on any other species. You’re nothing like them, not at all…. So why would you ever want to know more about them? Before you know it, thick webs trap your surroundings, Skully’s honey hands grasping your own as boney skeleton legs cage you in between him and a tree trunk.

You just need to know about him… It’s okay, you’re nothing like those other humans… You actually like him! So…

Let him love you.

- Fellow is an interesting case… He toes the line between wanting to help you and being neutral. He serandes you with promises of knowledge, in turn you must accompany him on his stage. Yet, the moment you agree to join him, he’ll quickly dress you in lace fit for a doll, forgetting his promise and only twirling you around like the star he claims you to be.

“Fellow I thought you said—” you can’t finish your thought before he hurriedly spins you, your body dropping into his arms as his hand strengthens its grip on your waist.

“Yes yes, I remember my promise don’t worry! I could never lie to a sparkling hunter like you.” it’s unclear if the sparkling is referring to your personality or the pretty clothes he's dressed you in. But… It’s obvious he has no intention of letting you go so soon. With a newfound determination in your mind, he continues prancing around with you inside the circle of his theater, your hand flying to his chest, your first question of research ready to be answered.

Is this marionette hollow? Or does he have a heart?

“My my,” you squeak when he spins you away, your hand off him just as soon as it was on him. His style of dancing is very different from the way everyone else waltzes with you. It’s fast paced yet still holds a regal of elegance. “You’re touchy today. I’m afraid our agreement will be fulfilled when we’re done dear hunter! Don’t fret, I only tell the truth.” He definitely doesn’t, but you don’t retort, You’re still set on fulfilling your goal, allowing him to twirl and speak to you with a countenance of a showman, rather than the puppet one plays with. The soft sound of a music box echoing through the walls is unsettling, yet calming at the same time, it’s a weird affect.

“So tell me, who was that human talking to you?” … human? What is he…? Your mind clicks together the pieces in a flash.

“He was just trying to buy me a drink is all.” he smiles, but the cracks in his mouth distract you from his true demeanor. That of bitterness.

“Is that so? It’s fortunate I stole you away from him then! I hear such drinks are harmful to your kind. Unless, you wanted him to indulge you.” the music box slowly nears its end, the final note having Fellow slowly dip you down with a delicacy entirely separate from the rest of the dance.

“I mean, a drink would’ve been…” your words grow softer at the sight of a dark silhouette hanging from the ceiling, the clear strings swaying him side from side. He’s been propped up in a way akin to a chandelier, but rather than beauty, it’s filled with a grotesquely brutal decorum “Fellow… what did you…” You’re practically swung up into solid arms, Fellow effortlessly carrying you across the stage. Your questions fall on synthetic ears as he carries you behind the curtain, placing you down on his fancy velvet couch.

“You’ve visited my refuge, it’s only right now I live to my promise and let you know me down to my true core.” he bows down with the confidence of a director. But...

You’re not so sure you want to know anything about this marionette anymore…

Those who are Neutral/Don’t help you but don’t stop you either

- “Why would you wanna learn about us? What, you wanna marry a zombie— Ow…! Okay it doesn’t hurt but ow!” Ace is insufferable with his teasing. Even if you showcase your desire to learn about them as entirely work related, he continues to say you just have a thing for monsters. It’s not as if he seizes you from studying him, he lets your eyes wander and even your hands, but that persona of his never fails to kick in…

“You’re practically kissing me at this point, might as well do it—” if you put your index over his mouth to shush him, and then let your thumb trace over his bottom lip… the remark he initially held is stuck in his throat as he watches you with bated breath, waiting. Waiting for what? He doesn’t even know. But, he’s for sure waiting for you to do something. The only action he takes is his eyes shifting over every part of your closed up face, as if he’s attempting to engrave each detail into a non-existent brain.

“You have a pretty face, Ace. To bad you don’t have a brain…” The next day, he’s a lot more docile than previously, even staying extremely still when you go over examinations. Doesn’t even tease you when you watch him limply walk. “You’re a lot quieter than yesterday.”

“Someone said I had a pretty face. I’m just showing it off like they asked,” he pauses before slightly rotating his body to face you but still stay positioned forward, “I give you my pretty face, and you let me watch yours.” Now it’s your turn to wait in embarrassment.

He goes back to the hospital and kicks his legs while burying his head in an old detoriated pillow

- Trey isn’t going out of his way to help you at all, but he’ll smile that kind yet put together (secretly conniving) smile while he leans back an allows you to trace your hands all around his limbs. He won’t tell anyone, but he feels a sense of pride swell inside of him when you gawk over how built he is. They have to rely on him for all the heavy lifting, considering he’s essentially a giant and the only one who can carry anything. ( half of the group phases through everything and the other half have limbs constantly falling off of them.)

“You can still build muscle? Huh… that’s interesting…” Trey’s really happy he locked the door, it’d certainly be an uproar if anyone saw you squeezing the muscle on his bicep. He just hopes Riddle and Cater decide to knock before phasing through the door…

Though, he can’t deny the secret desire of someone seeing you two so close and private. He was human(?) at some point too. The tradition of public affection still lingers in his newfound boy, it makes sense he’d want someone to see you two.

Your hand barely brushes against sewed skin before he flinches, your head quickly turning up to question him before jumping back at the feeling of his hand pulling you in. Your body is pushed against his, before the pressure of his arms gradually releases a gentle expression on his face.

“Sorry, there was a bug.” was there really…? You have a sneaking suspicion not to believe him, but out of the five monsters that live in Heartslaybul he’s essentially the only collected mind to trust. You don’t inquire any further, only continuing to attach and reattach his body while experimentally shocking him occasionally.

Unknown to you, but entirely acknowledged by Trey, a flustered, open-mouthed Deuce stands outside the window at such a display of intamicy. Trey hopes you don’t leave anytime soon, who else will fawn over him with such intensity? When his hands tighten around your own, you assume it to be a reflex. It’s not.

- Before you even have to the chance to close in on Leona, he’s already catching your wrist and pulling your face to his, mere inches spacing between you and the mummy. The glare he gives you is practically death inducing, your youthfulness being sapped from your skin the longer you lean into him. You’re sucked out of your trance when the feeling of a pair of fingers presses into your lips, a feint taste of… pomegranate? Invading your taste buds. The flavor reminds you of death.

“Huh, it worked.” you only quirk your eyebrow up at him, his head leaning back as guttural laugh sounds through the dusty air. “You were wondering what mummies taste like right?” No way… He did it?! You only joked about a kiss being a good way of testing that theory! You don’t have the chance to retort when the feeling of rough bandages slowly curl their way around your limb, pulling you even closer than you already were. “Well? Are you gonna investigate further or is that all the info you need for a mummy?”

He must underestimate your curiosity, as even he’s taken aback when your hand pushes him further into his throne, your eyes scrutinizing each detail on his body as your legs are propped up on each side of him. Truth be told, you’re a little scared Ruggies gonna walk in and see the scene in front of him, but you push all worries aside when the prospect of research rears its head.

“You’re right. I think the king should allow me to see his importance up close.” You don’t notice it, and you never will from the numerous wraps that preserve his body. But, the single organ that was left inside him, skips a beat at your words. He’s important to you, even if it’s just for research. You’re blinded with interest at examining him, the effect your words have on him completely go over your head, so much so you don’t even notice the way his hands grip tightly onto your waist, each ribbon of cloth increasing their grasp too.

It’s a definite fact, this monster hunter will never leave his palace. Not because you’re dead, but simply because he must keep you here. He’ll make sure you’ll want to stay.

After this occurrence, it’s a rinse and repeat where Leona lets you do your thing before embarrassing you and then pretending nothing happened the next day.

- Ruggie tells you he’ll strap himelf to an examination table and let your hands run wild if you offer him something in return. You never accept, only consider. If you were to give him something… what would you give him…? Next time you meet him and ask, he laughs at you, “i can’t believe you actually believed that…!” You were on the verge of striking him with your fist, yet you don’t. He’s wiping tears from his eyes before gazing at your hand, a cloth sack dangling from your grasp. He grins at the sight, taking a step forward.

“I would’ve done it for free. Really rare deal, just for you shishi~”

“Well don’t, because that would mean I got this for nothing…” you lift the bag up to his face, the werehyena quirking his eyebrow before clawed hands swiftly grab the sack, opening the contents on the floor.

It’s food.

He stares wordlessly at the meal below him, only looking up at you after a few moments. You’re ready to watch him scarf down each individual dish like it’s breathing but he doesn’t. His hands slowly lift up, splitting the food in the middle, patting the spot next to him with a sharp teethed smile.

Silently, you sit next to him, watching him diligently consume the food. Except…

With each bite, you notice the pieces of red in-between his canines, and… two newly found wedding rings on his index.

Did he… already eat before this…? And if he did, you have a sneaking suspicion you know his victims…

Your thoughts are dispersed when then feeling of scarlet fruit is placed on your lips, an expecting Ruggie hinting you to eat.

You… don’t feel like eating anything red right now…

- Vil is already used to having humans gawk at him, whether from lust, a twisted version of lust they believe to be love, or pure rage. So, he just assumes his charm has already started to worm it’s filthy way into your heart when you stare at him and examine his skin more often. A shame really, you’re like the rest of his food now… But, he could use it to his favor, maybe he should just bed you already and hope you fall in love with him like the rest of them—

“Vil, do incubus eat things that aren’t just… bed stuff…?” He should laugh really, at the way you describe his way of feeding to be bed stuff. “I wanna know.” Now he’s letting it out. Truly, it’s adorable how different your countenance is compared to when you’re attempting to slay him.

“If I said no? What if I told you i’m positively starving right now? Would you let me feed off you?” before you know it, he’s towering above where you’re sat, his fingers caging you’re chin to make you look up at him, gentle flaps of his wings cooling your gradually heating exterior. His tail slowly crawling it’s way up your torso. He’s honestly expecting you to back out, either cowering in embarrassment, or even cursing him with a thousand Die in hell! Who knew you could be so bold outside of your job too… Just the thing that made him interested in you as a living being rather than sustenance.

Your fingers snake around his own, carefully placating them to lay on your thigh, causing the all famed incubus, Vil Schoenheit, who's sucked thousands dry of their vitality, kneel on his knee in front of you, diligently awaiting your next words. His slit eyes don’t even blink, the only sign of wavering patience being the tail he has continuously trace patterns into your collar.

“If doing that helps me see behind the act of an Incubus, I might as well offer myself as your dinner.” Bold, how very bold. Vil should find you a job in acting in the underworld, he’s sure you would do splendidly. Though, the more he thinks about it, he’d prefer that confidence of yours to only be for his eyes and not the entirety of hell.

The next day, he sits still in his chair as you let your fingers trace over him in the name of investigation! He doesn’t help you, making you do all the work to uncover the truth about his species, but, he won’t ever stop you either. Just like how he won’t ever stop or help you when you attempt to leave his dear manor.

- Epel has a really big desire to show off, bragging about his capabilities despite only being a vampire for a short time. But, he also wants to be cool for you. What’s the point in bragging about his talents when he comes off as desperate? That’s no good, he needs to come off as cool and powerful…! He doesn’t wanna make the comparison, but it’s the only thing he can think of.

He wants to act like Vil. He doesn’t wanna be him but… You always seem to be around him whenever possible, and when he’s not available you’re with Rook…! He really just can’t win can he…

So, he hides his secret desire, acting with nonchalance when you finally ask the question of investigating him.

For once though, he does feel victorious when your fingers prance around his fingers, thoroughly feeling the edge with a wonder. When you tell him about Jamils similarity though, he’s back to feeling defeated… So he isn’t unique in your eyes?

After your initial studying session, he’s left wandering the night for his next meal, a deep rooted disappointment flooding (still) veins. At this point, he’ll pounce on whatever moves first. So, he does, the sound of rustling leaves making him take a single step with pure speed, pinning the human to a tree trunk, readying his fangs to dive into their neck.

But there’s a smell. A smell so familiar, so sweet. So… You.

“Epel…?” He looks up at you with eyes blown so wide they could pop out. His grip on you is practically trembling with hunger, he needs food now. Despite his obvious starvation, he slowly leans away from your jugular, ready to escape. He’s only stopped at the feeling of your hand placing itself behind his head, pulling him back into your side. He looks up with an expression of worry, attempting to silently word an “are you sure?”, your reply being a small nod.

His fangs peak out before diving in, his former meek attitude disappearing as he greedily consumes you.

If this is how he feeds… Then you’re happy your plan worked. If it had been anyone else, he surely would’ve killed them, draining them completely dry.

You wave your free hand, quietly shooing away the innocent civilian from the scene.

- Silver is actually entirely willing to let you experiment your whims on him. If it makes you happy, why wouldn’t he want to? Whenever you’re happy he’s happy too. It’s just… He’s asleep to frequently to actually tell you he’s okay with it.

“Silver! Silver…? Oh, you’re asleep again…” you lay down on the grass, meeting him face to face on the floor. You don’t realize it, but before you know it your bodies only a few inches away from his, practically nudged to his. If Sebek saw, you’re sure he would call you two heinous for allowing human and monster interrelationships...

You can’t help when your hand instinctively reaches up, brushing ivory hair away from his face while your fingers trace down the colored glittering skin on the edges of his face. Whenever he’s awake, he always tells you he’s okay to submit his body to you, yet whenever you try he’s always slumbering.

A shiver goes down your spine before your eyes grow heavy. Seems you actually did discover something new about him, touching that hued skin of his grows weariness. You don’t have any time to celebrate your founding before you pass out next to him, soft snores leaving you as your arm is draped over his neck, practically sleeping with him like a couple.

When you come to, you feel the soft skin of a shoulder on your cheek, looking up at the rarest event possible.

You and Silver being awake at the same time.

“Allow me, to be your experiment.”

“I feel like I should be asking you that instead Silver…”

Those who hate it (but are secretly neutral/like it)

- Cater is even sure what he is. He understands he’s a ghost, but there’s something else to it. So, don’t gaze at such a horrifying face with all that curiosity, a curiosity he’s never held for himself despite not knowing his own species either. For a moment, his face scrunches at the request before returning to his usually facade.

“Hah…! You should be careful! What if I said yes and ate you whole! Cay-Cay’s gonna say no, kay?” and he leaves it at that.

He’s the same makeup as Riddle, so… What does it matter? You don’t need him to look into. Besides, it might be for the best. Nobody especially you, should ever gaze at him in his entirety.

If you did… Would you think he was boring? Would you think he wasn’t happy?

Is he happy?

He’s been dead for so long, dying in the same time frame with Riddle and Trey. Yet, he still can’t get over the grief he feels at this. He lost the entirety of his life from that… that…!

He jumps back at the sight of your hand on his face. His face… If you knew you’d hate him. You can’t feel his face, and he can only narrowly feel your palm, but you can see him visibly melt into your “touch”.

He’s not sure what he looked like to you, but the furrow in your brows tell him part of those thoughts came to light. Or maybe you miracoulousyly found out the truth about his face.

He takes a breath, before floating to your side. “Didn’t know you were so determined to look into me! Maybe this is your way of flirting.”

“I wasn’t trying to do that…!” your fluster makes him laugh, resting his arm over your shoulder.

So you don’t know about his face. Good.

- Jack has known you for so long, so… He doesn’t want you to see the version of himself he’s hid from you all this time, that would completely ruin all the time he spent curating his human persona. Plus, would you even allow him to protect you anymore if you truly knew him…?

If you know more about what he is, it wouldn’t be the best thing, but not the worst. The worst would be you refusing him and his safeguard from fear of his true strength. What would be the point of everything he did if you just ended up getting hurt? He knows you’re not entirely weak. If you were, there’s no way you would be in the profession you are.

But you’re still human. You’re still the same human who he’s seen with bruises and cuts all over. You’re the same human who's broken bones before just for a job.

You’re the same human who would smile at him despite all these injuries, laughing at him and Rollo for their worries.

“Jack, please, let me know you.”

He stares at you, the same rock hard expression planted on his face.

“… Okay.”

- No…! Don’t look at him so intently…! With all that… adoration…? You’ve yet to tell Azul just how pretty you think he is, especially at night when certain lights reflect off him in such a pretty way. It’s like stars are shining inside of him. Is he a vicious monster whos lead thousands of sailors to their death in his stomach? Yes. Does that stop him from being a curiosity you must satiate? No, unfortunately.

He’s always taken to the form of a Human when possible, so it’s rare to see him in his truest form. Since he can’t eat while he’s a human, the best bet you have of truly studying him is when it’s time for him to eat. He’ll be caught by surprise when there’s a wall of rocks blocking his exit to the sea, emerging from the water in confusion before doubling back in shock when he can feel your hands grasp the gross slimy texture of his body.

“Wait…! Don’t I’m…!” he’s on the verge of saying pathetic before a shell he gifted you is placed on his mouth.

“Pretty.” you whisper with a certain tenderness. In his panic, he fails to see the different bioluminescent coral that glow through his body, only narrowly being blocked by his three hearts. He’s erratic, you shouldn't see him… He’s not in the picture-esque form he’s decided to wed you in! (When he made that choice, no one knows.) Yet, the way you admiringly lead him back to the ledge of the pool as you trace over his body makes him slowly calm down.

It’s… nice. It’s nice how enamored you are with him, he feels wanted. Not like those filthy sea parasites who sail their wooden boats and attempt to pierce him with spears and arrows. He’s on the verge of even sleeping in your arms from the sheer comfort before the dulls sensation of lips are softly pecked where his hearts are located. The action makes him quickly perk up from the attempted slumber.

“Sorry, I was curious on if you would change colors if I did that… But, well you did!” You’re… not wrong. He can see the way his color shifts from purple to pink. Luckily, you seem to enamored by his current camouflage malfunction to notice the way all three of his hearts beat quickly and in rapid succession. “See? you’re handsome Azul.” The way you smile at him, your hair soaked while your clothes are heavy with water, is just too much… His placates his viscous hand on your hand, strings of slime dripping from your head as he slowly hugs you towards his body, the armor shield her wear the only thing stopping you from essentially becoming one with him.

While he allows his arms to swallow you, the only thoughts that seem to run in his head are, about how much he can’t bear to let you go, if you leave this cove he’ll surely be gulped whole in despair, so, he won’t allow it.

- Jamil is his typical self when you ask him, not saying any words or even hissing any sounds, just a look that communicates “Why would you even wanna do that?“. But it’s bone chilling enough for you to semi-give up on inquiring any further. You don’t ask, and you don’t secretly research him, but, you do spend a fair amount of effort showing him your interest.

He won’t admit it, but he actually wanted to say yes at your first request. Why wouldn’t he want you to fawn over him? Having you spend time with him, having you research him in close proximity, having you actually care about his existence. But he still has a sense of pride, he’s not gonna so easily admit he’d like to be treated…

“Jamil, I was thinking, Kalim would be up for me to ask him questions right? He seems like he would.”

…

Jamils bottom half slithers to your side, effortlessly picking you up and hoisting you over his shoulder. You don’t have the chance to ask him what he’s doing before you feel your behind gently sat on a table. Jamil leans down, his hair acting like a makeshift curtain while he looks at you.

“What do you wanna know first?” His forked tongue peaks out between his fangs, slit eyes looking down at you with expectancy.

“You want me to…?”

“I do.” The way he quickly replied gives you your confirmation, your hands flying up grasp his face in your palms, feeling the scales on his skin with urgency. The pretty color immediately attracts you, your finger moving across to drag your skin over it. Except, you accidentally make contact with the sharp poisonous fangs placed in his mouth, your attention immediately caught.

He doesn’t need a sign to know what you want, gaping his lips open for you to see. Your eyes are practically star shaped with all your attention on him, it feels great. He inhales, patiently allowing you to do whatever you wish.

His gaze trails down at your arm. Maybe it’s time to renew the mark underneath that sleeve. Except this time, you’ll know he left it.

- Idia doesn’t have much to offer (Or so he thinks). He’s basically just a person…! Who guides souls to the afterlife but that’s all…! Yet, the way you so eagerly watch him swing his scythe makes him secretly wish he did have more to show you. If he was more interesting surely you wouldn’t become bored with him. It’s not fair really, why did all those other beasts get cool appearances and abilities… Their personalities aren’t all that great… They all just have looks…! And like, crazy powers… and confidence.

“Idia…? Why are you curled into a ball?” You carefully tuck a strand of his flamed hair behind his ear, trying to get a clear view of his face. Your try is disturbed when Idia shakes his head and allows his hair to fall into place, not daring to move his head from your body. Everyone else can have their cool personas, this… this is all his.

“Can you… hunt all of them down faster…” his words are barely audible, a low whisper that’s drowned out with silence. He avoids all eye contact with you, only allowing his head on your thighs to be your sole connection.

“You… want more people to guide?”

… Yeah never mind. He quickly shuts that thought down. The idea of being stuck with all of those heinous extroverts and having to lead them to their after life… It sounds absolutely horrible. He can see it now, all their dismissive looks when they realize it’s him who’s showing them the way, he’s sure they would scoff at him.

Then he finally remembers something. He can simply… Leave them to wonder purgatory, for eternity.

He’s done it before. Whenever a mortal got on his nerves, he leaves them stranded and left on their own, only their consciousness as their only friend. Time flows differently for such people, so when he comes back, they’re trembling from insanity. Years of isolation, especially after just dying, makes anyone break. It’s perfect.

“Yeah, I… I do want more people to guide.” He sits up, looking you straight in the eyes with a confidence you’ve never seen on him. “And… You can study me… As much as you want.”

- “Human! I will not be subjected to your inhumane tactics of investigation!” It’s ironic coming from Sebek, considering there are several bones and bodies beneath his swamp that were surely not killed humanely by his hand.

You put your hand up, not even attempting to touch him, just calming him down, and he swats it away with a speed that’s completely unnecessary. “I must maintain a peak if I am to remain my lieges retainer!”

“Than wouldn’t it make sense to check you? To see if you’re in fit shape to serve him.” he squints his eyes at you, visibly mulling over the question. On one hand, it’s improper to engage an intimacy so close to a weak human, on the other… There’s a part of him that has the desire to spend a little time with you. After all, you spend a lot of your time with the others, as they can be on land with you as much as they want, which is utterly scandalous…

But, he can only spend a few hours with you before having to return to his marsh.

He’s silent, straight lipped as he looks down at you.

“… No.” you hunch over, completely expecting him to decline, you didn’t think he’d give you such a serious face. For a moment, you actually thought he was gonna accept…! “Being so close to a mortal in that vicinity is practically treason.”

You get it… Why is he still hammering the point in?

He leans down, an all too tall frame casting a shadow over you. Yet his pupils do anything to not look you in the eye at the proximity, even though it was him who enacted the space. “… I don’t need your time.” the way he says it makes you think he’s talking to himself rather than you. Is he? You serve him a smile. He might not be looking at you, but you’re sure it at least reaches his peripherals.

“Okay, Then I won’t use it on you.” That came off stronger than intended, but you don’t try to save your words, only walking away with a wave.

The next day Sebek says he hurt his shoulder and must get it tended to…. What do you mean you don’t need all this information on his species? Of course you do! What if you mess up his structure in your attempt to navigate a foreign being!

Those who genuinely hate it

- Rollo could never hate you… No of course not. But there’s a deep, festering, wretched part of him that wishes your curiosity would just be satiated and you wouldn’t have to look upon such a hideous form…! Monstrous, ugly, so sinful… so…unhuman…! It’s not even because of the actually form itself, rather, how pitiful it feels to know he’s not even the same species of you. It makes him feel so unworthy of your affections, he doesn’t deserve the purity you provide for him, yet, he can’t help but consume each drop of joy you spare him with the utmost of greed and gluttony. It’s like, he’s been starved for hundreds of years before meeting you.

Which… In retrospect… isn’t that far off from his truth…

“Rollo, it’s okay, I just wanna see you up close.” … Please don’t talk to him in such an innocent tone. He was already unable to handle your hope while parading as a human, you really think he can control himself in his truest form?

- Neige feels bad turning down your requests of investigating him. No, really! If he could he would allow you to run your hands through his fingers all you want! Even letting you follow him around as he preforms his angelic deeds. He just… he can’t let you see... He can’t let you see the black feathers that adorn his back.

Because if you did… You would know… You would know just how deep his care for you goes. Which isn't a bad thing! He wants you to know how much he loves you, you just can’t know the more aggressive sides of that love…

[cherryredstars]

Idk what wrong with me but I've been craving some highschool oneshot, or anything tbh

So I hope if u could do badbad!Miguel x goodgirl!nerd?

I have no idea what I meant by goodgirl!nerd,let just make her an good girl who always an big time nerd in the school,who loves helping people out,especially when it come to tutoringor tutor some students,so when miguel ask for her to tutor him,so he could catch up with his grades,she say yes to him,but he really didn't need the tutoring he just wanted to play around with reader (he would been craving for some of her attention,he would have an interest in her without anyone notice) he loved teasing,flirty, and most definitely love making her all stuttering and blushing mess,but what he hate how people who think that have their advantage over reader,eye fucking her with their eyes,it just makes his blood boil,his fist clenching in anger,but he deals with them later (beating tf out of them for thinking that they can touch what his) but not feeling satisfied he just had to show u who u belong to,and make you his,so on one can try to get u before him

Idk what wrong with me like I can write when I'm zoned out (also could u pls put nfsw pls)

Anyway have an great day

Pairing: Badboy!Miguel O’Hara x Goodgirl!Reader

Warnings: Protectiveness, Suggested Physical Fighting, Smut, Slight Exhibition, Marking, Praise, Lots of Curses and Mentions to Disney

Summary: All good boys go to heaven, but bad boys bring heaven to you. (Get it..like the song)

A/N: THIS REQUEST IS SO!!!

Word Count: 4.5K (Barely Edited)

It doesn’t take much to notice you. 

He sees you all the time, sitting in the front like the good little girl you are. Batting those innocent eyes up at every teacher as you shoot your hand up to answer every question with a bashful smile. Eyes you as you go up to different students, reminding them of tutoring sessions or offering help. His good little girl just wanted to make sure everyone graduates with passing grades. Just want to be so helpful for everyone, to feel needed. He could make you feel needed. Only if you’d let him, only if you needed him as much as he needed you. 

When he calls your name, your head shoots up instantly to turn to him. Your cheeks heat up when your eyes meet his, a smirk spreading on his face. He calls you over, finger forming a ‘come here’ motion. You instantly obey, getting out of your seat and standing over his desk. You flutter your lashes shyly at him, fingers fidgeting together as you try to kill the redness on your face. Miguel hums lazily, hand reaching out to play with a strand of your hair resting on your shoulder. Your hair is soft and silky against his fingers, his eyes watching as it twirls around his fingers.

“Tutor me.” He says simply, eyes blazing a lazy trial up to your face. His expression is one of boredom, except his eyes are glistening with mischief. 

The eye contact makes you flush deeper, face practically a tomato as you refocus your gaze to his ear to avoid his gaze. A stuttered response leaves you, uncertainty masking your voice as you ask him what he needs help with. The question momentarily pauses his movements. Truthfully, he doesn’t need help with anything. He has a high class rank, closely following behind your up and coming valedictorian title. In the end, he replies with science, a class he has a perfect grade in. You instantly agree, shyly giving him a time and day to go to the library for his sessions. 

He always shows up a few minutes early, you find him on his phone as his feet are propped up on a secluded table with his chair leaning on its back legs. A lazy smile crosses his face as he watches you walk over, not caring for the science workbooks you set down at the table. You try your hardest not to meet his gaze, finding it hard when he sets his feet down and leans closer towards you as you explain the material in quiet, stuttered sentences. He simply hums along to your explanations, not really listening as he brushes his shoulder against yours, accidentally grazing your hand when he points to a random paragraph, pressing the side of his knee against yours under the table. 

Each touch makes you stop talking, body tensing as a flush covers every inch of your skin. His touch burns against your skin, causing your voice to waver and fingers to tremble. He drinks in every reaction, interrupting your explanations with questions whispered too close to your ear in a flirty tone. They’re questions he already knows the answers to, but he just wants to keep hearing you talk and stutter. He’ll make you late to your next tutor session with a pout, teasing that he still doesn’t understand what you’re trying to teach him. It always causes your eyes to soften towards him and make you promise that you’ll move your schedule around to make room for a sooner tutoring session. It always causes Miguel to puff up with pride at his clever antics and for his heart to beat faster at the thought of spending more one-on-one time with you. 

When he’s not with you in his lovely tutor sessions, he keeps his eye on you. He watches you in the cafeteria as you offer someone your lunch because they didn’t bring any money and don’t have anything to eat. He smiles slightly to himself whenever you get stopped by an underclassman and you fuss over making sure they get to the right class and don’t end up lost in the halls. He gets slightly annoyed and furrows his brows when you hold the door open for a long string of people and only a few of them acknowledge your kindness with a thank you. You’re just so nice and he wishes he can have that sweetness of yours all to himself. Especially when he sees some random ass fuck trying their go at you. Because, of course you’re not just nice and smart, you’re a total fucking knockout. 

You have the sweetest little face paired with a body any man would get on his knees to worship, (a thought Miguel thinks about very often in the comfort of a bathroom or his bedroom), the shiniest fucking eyes that always blink up at everyone like they’re the most interesting damn thing you’ve ever met, and a voice that drips of honey and hidden sex appeal. And if it isn’t your looks that instantly draw them in, it’s that perfect personality of yours. Always kind and patient and funny. You’re always walking with someone in the halls, making everyone you’re with laugh and crave to be the subject of your attention. You’re a goddamn magnet, and everyone wants to be connected to you. You’re the type of woman that would convince any man to settle down, to drop to a single knee and ask you to be his for life. Because everyone knows that you’re a once in a lifetime girl and no one will ever come close to you. Every boy (and some girls) in this damn school wants a chance with you. 

And that pisses Miguel the fuck off. Because while you’re wife material, most boys here don’t even meet the requirements to be considered boyfriend material. Sleezy fucks who want a trophy wife that will suck them off after they come home from some meaningless job that they sit around all day doing nothing at. Immature cunts who think they’re funny when they poke fun at insecurities and claim it's a joke. Disgusting toddlers in overgrown bodies who don’t deserve to be in the same universe as you are. But, of course you’re still nice to them, and of course they think it means they have a chance with you. 

Miguel is always clenching his jaw and preparing his fists whenever he walks into the library to meet you after one of your earlier sessions to see some disney channel-looking fucker trying to sweet talk you. Key word being ‘trying’, because he can tell from a mile away that you’re still trying to be patient even though your body language screams ‘I am so close to slapping this boy with my textbooks’. The thought makes Miguel snort out a laugh that instantly dies as he watches some Zac Efron wannabe lean closer towards you. The asshole’s eyes instantly drop to your chest, where your textbooks are causing your boobs to be pushed together, revealing the most mouthwatering sight. Miguel’s eye is practically twitching when the dude’s slimy fingers come to run down your arm with the ugliest smirk Miguel has had the displeasure of seeing. 

Miguel doesn’t hesitate to walk over, walking slowly as he stops at the end of the table with a bored and displeased expression on his face. The boy, who’ll probably end up as a drug addict in his 20s, looks very annoyed at his presence. Even muttering something about Miguel being a ‘cock-blocker’ under his breath. The retort makes Miguel lift his brow in surprise. He didn’t know Mickey Mouse Junior even had a dick. Must be one of his magic mousekatools, he concludes. 

Miguel ignores him, instantly turning to you. The grateful look on your face as you stare at him makes Miguel puff out his chest, proud of himself for making you feel better. His body loses the tiniest bit of tension as you smile softly at him. “He bothering you, princesa?”

You instantly widen your eyes, moving to shake your head when Donald Duck speaks up, “I think you’re the one bothering her, actually.”

He must have been a mosquito in his past life, Miguel thinks to himself, it would explain why he’s so fucking annoying. Miguel turns over to Shrek’s brother and stares him down. The boy instantly looks like he might piss his pants, but keeps his position as much as his wobbling legs can, “I think you should leave Miguel. I’m sure she’ll be…preoccupied for the next hour or two.”

His comment makes you cringe from the applied meaning and Miguel sees absolute red. He has to laugh at what this fucker thinks would have happend if Miguel didn’t show up. Yeah right, like this motherfucker could last that long. Miguel grabs the front of his collar with a tight grip, almost pulling the poor boy over the table. A vein is visibly running down Migue’s neck as his jaw clenches. 

“Puta madre. Cuando termine contigo, no podrás tocar nada nunca más.” Miguel grinds out, shaking the worthless piece of shit slightly before turning towards you in a nicer, softer tone, but still laced with a bit of tension: “Go find us a nice table, hermosa. I have to take care of something real quick.” 

You can only nod, watching as Miguel leaves with the boy out the back entrance of the library. You wince slightly as the door closes rather loudly, feeling a bit of sympathy for the boy who most likely won’t schedule another tutoring session once Miguel comes back. You spend the next 20 or so minutes preparing the secluded table Miguel likes best. Laying out all your books and supplies, sitting still and then getting antsy and shifting things to straighten them every few minutes. 

When Miguel finds you, he walks over with his hands in his pocket. He looks just like he did a few minutes ago, his hair just slightly disheveled. Your heart might have actually stopped when his hand leaves his pocket to grab yours that are drummin nervously on the wooden table. His hand is rough compared to your soft one as he bends down and brings it to his face. His lips are soft, if not slightly chapped, when he presses a fleeting kiss to your knuckles, mumbling an apology for taking so long as he stares into your eyes. Your eyes are wide as you stutter out reassurance that it’s fine. Miguel simply hums before dropping your hand and going to sit down. He pauses when your small hands grab his once again.

Your thumb strokes over the redness and slight purple color of his knuckles, something that definitely wasn’t there when he first came in, hinting at what happened outside of the library building. A slight crease appears between your brows and your lips are in a sad pout.Your eyes don’t leave his hand when you mutter, “You’re hurt.” 

Your concern makes Miguel slightly happy, liking the idea you care for him. He slips his hand into yours, bending back down as his hand goes under your chin to lift your face. Out of sight from peering eyes, he presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, mkay?”

Your stuttered and shy state makes him smile, muttering how cute you are as he finally sits down. You have to clap a hand over your mouth to conceal a squeak when Miguel grabs the seat of your chair and pulls it closer to him, practically connecting the edge of the chairs. He casually throws his arm over the back of your chair, not doing any dramatics like faking a yawn or stretching. You stare and blink at him, nervousness bubbling in your stomach as he leans in closer. “Are we going to start or what, mami?”

He keeps his smile to himself, watching as you clear your throat and scramble to open your science textbook to where you had left off the last time. He just sits and watches, fingers ghosting over your shoulder gently, feeling nothing like the other guy. He listens to what you’re saying faintly, pointing at some diagram in the book. He thinks you asked him a question because you stare at him patiently, yet expectantly. He turns to you, shrugging, “Can’t see the model clearly.”

You nod, moving to push the book closer to him before his hands are on your waist. He leans fully back into his chair as he lifts you off yours and into his lap. He pulls the book in front of the both of you, head resting on your shoulder as he hums. “That’s better. Now ask the question again.”

Your brain stops functioning for a second, Miguel’s hands leaving your waist to rest against your legs, fingers slightly caressing the side of your thigh. Your nervousness makes you squirm, and his hands instantly grab onto your thighs tightly with a hiss. He grinds out for you to ask the question again, but he doesn’t sound aggressive. His voice sounds more pained and desperate. You nod with a gulp, hesitantly reasking the question that he pretends to think about before answering correctly just to hear your praise. 

As you continue talking, Miguel’s fingers rub the skin just below the ending of your skirt. You try to ignore the touches, but your body melts against his front as your voice quiets and you shift your body slightly to press into him. Miguel’s breath tickles your neck and your thighs clench as a single finger slips under the material of your skirt. It just barely skims over your panties, and your breath hitches. Miguel smirks at your reactions, asking you what’s wrong as he slowly moves your leg so it hangs over his leg. You’re a stuttering mess, brain malfunctioning when his hand comes back and caresses the crotch of your panties. Your cheeks flush, knowing it’s damp in arousal. 

A quiet groan leaves Miguel as he moves your panties to the side, letting his fingers rub against your bare pussy. Sticky fluid instantly clings to his fingers and his head turns to press kisses against your neck, his free hand coming up to your chin to tilt your head to the side for more room. Your hand comes down to hold his arm, eyes closing as the tips of his fingers tease your entrance. When he hears your slight whimper, he looks up to your face and pulls his fingers away, moving them to trace circles in your inner thigh. 

The small sound you make in protest causes him to chuckle, “Shh, shh. Keep talking, baby. You’re supposed to help me, remember?”

You open your mouth to protest but his fingers are back, this time slowly sinking into your heat instead of just teasing with his fingertips. Your eyes instantly close again and you let out a shuddering breath. You open our eyes, trying to focus on the words in the book. When you begin to read and explain a scientific equation, Miguel’s fingers reach knuckle-deep into you. You can hear the muffled sound he makes as he continues to suck and kiss your neck. Your weak explanation is cut off when he pulls his fingers back and pumps them into you, curling his fingers. The beginning of a moan is let out before your hand clasps over your mouth. Miguel laughs evilly as he continues moving his fingers. 

You're sure this is a game to him. Everytime you stop explaining things, he stops and tells you to continue. But once you start talking, his pumps and curls his fingers faster, causing you to cut yourself off when sounds of pleasures. You’re a mess by the time you finish your explanation, hips grinding into Miguel’s hand and fingers clutching to the edge of the table for stability. 

Once you say your last words, Miguel speeds his fingers up and bites into your neck, “Good girl. Gonna give you a reward for being such a good girl for me, yeah?”

You don’t hesitate to nod, face screwed up in pleasure as you reach closer and closer to the edge. Miguel leaves your neck, licking the bite soothingly before tilting your face back towards him. He muffles the loud moan you make as you gush around his fingers with a deep kiss. He bites and sucks on your bottom lip, eyes closed and brows furrowed as he savors the taste of your lip gloss. His tongue swipes over the seam of your lips, causing you to part them as his tongue explores your mouth. 

His fingers move to lazy pumps, working you through your orgasm before stopping completely. Your body shakes slightly against his, and he smirks into the kiss before pulling away. His fingers reappear from under your skirt, covered in your white cum. You both watch as he part his two fingers, white strings connecting the two. You let out an embarrassed whimper, watching as Miguel brings them up to his mouth, licking them clean. Your taste instantly floods his mouth and he practically rolls his eyes back. Of course you’d taste so fucking sweet and delicious. His fingers leave his mouth with a small pop, hurriedly coming back to kiss you again. A shy moan leaves you at your own taste. 

Miguel’s hand moves your other leg, spreading you out fully so both of your legs are pressed into the sides of his thighs. His hand leaves your chin and scoots you further up his leg, working on undoing his jeans just enough to stick his aching cock out of his underwear. The head is red and leaking, precum sliding down his length. His hand comes to pump himself before he moves you back over him, his cock resting against your ruined panties. 

“Move your panties to the side for me, yeah?” He mumbles against your lips. You comply instantly, pushing your panties to one side, moaning when Miguel takes a hold of his cock to align it with you. He pushed slowly into you, his hand releasing his cock to hold onto your thigh and to cover your mouth as you continued moaning out. He throws his head back with a choked moan the moment he bottoms out, holding still to bask in the way your tight cunt swallows him and squeezes around him. 

“Feels so fucking tight. Feels like I’m in heaven.” Miguel hisses out, his hips thrusting into you experimentally. 

The cutest of mewls leave your mouth, causing Miguel to nose your cheek almost lovingly. He takes his time, lazily thrusting into your pulsating pussy in an attempt to hold himself back. But he’s wanted this for so long. He’s wanted to touch you, to kiss you, to just be near you since the moment he laid eyes on you. And he’s here, in the goddamn school library, and you’re letting him fuck you as you sit on his lap. It feels like a scene straight out of some fucked-up erotica or porn video. Would it be too much if he started thanking you until he’s a babbling mess?

A strangled noise leaves Miguel when you start fucking bouncing on his cock, impatient with his slow speed. Instinctively, his hips speed up. The sound of wet squelching filling the small, unoccupied section of the library. Anyone can walk over, some poor student or librarian in need of a book only to find his good girl riding his cock so desperately. The thought makes his balls tighten and he has to distract himself before he blows his load into you too soon. He buries his head into the curve of your shoulder, shifting the hand that covers your mouth to stuff two of his fingers past your lips. Without even asking, you start sucking on them as you lift your hips up and down. 

“Good girl. Good fucking girl, princesa.” Miguel praises into your ear, his hand leaving your thigh to pinch and play with your neglected clit. It causes you to squirm and for your steady riding to falter. “Oh fuck. Taking my cock so well, yeah? Taking it is so good for me. Holy fuck!” 

More curses leave his mouth as he pounds into you, shifting his hips until he hits that gummy spot inside of you that causes you to wrap your arm around his neck to hold on for dear life. Your pussy just keeps quivering around him, milking him for the cum you so desperately need to be filled with. The cum he wants to fill and claim you with. The thought of you walking out of the library, hell going to tutor another student, with his cum flooding your pussy and dripping through your panties is something he’s fantasized about for months. His pure, innocent girl tainted with how dirty she is by fucking him of all people, in a place where anyone can see how naughty she really is.  

“Miguel!” 

The sound of your muffled call makes his eyes snap open from their closed position, He looks up at your face, watching as a line of drool drips from your stuffed mouth. He has to groan and give you deep thrusts as a thank you for the pretty sight. As he thrusts, he realizes how much your walls have contracted, practically trying to trap his cock inside you. He notices how much your body is beginning to twitch and he knows you’re close. Your eyes look hazy and the muffled moans you let out add on to how close you must be to coating his cock. 

“Wanna cum on my cock, love? Gonna cum and make you all mine, yeah?” He whispers into your ear, slowing his fast thrusting in exchange for hard and deep thrusts that cause you to whine. You desperately nod your head, babbled and incoherent nonsense being said around his fingers. 

Miguel let out a low chuckle, speeding up again and relishing the happy noise that vibrates in the back of your throat. Your walls clench around him like a heartbeat for a few blissful moments before you're screaming around his fingers as your back arches and thighs shake. Miguel moans as he feels you cum around him, the lewdest noises coming from your wet cunt as he hammers into you for his own release. A sweat builds up on his face as he drives into you, trying to push in and out of your tight walls that only seem to tighten the more he thrusts. 

“That’s my good fucking girl. Came so beautifully around my cock.” He mumbles, looking down to where the two of you are connected to see the most gorgeous white ring at the base of his cock. He can feel himself twitching inside of you, on the brink of exploding. 

Miguel bites into your neck as one last act of claiming as he spills into you, his hips not stopping as he pumps you full of his seed. A delirious moan comes from you as you feel his warmth, but you seem happy as you melt into him. Your skin is sticky from sweat, arousal, and Miguel’s saliva when he pulls his face away from your neck. The bite mark is red against the purples beginning to stain your skin. He can feel himself getting hard again at the sight of it, but he refrains from taking more than what you’ve already given him. 

He lifts you up slightly, moaning as a mix of cum slowly falls from your hole, dripping onto the underside of his semi-hard cock. It drips down, merging with the cum that still sits at the base of his dick. He makes you stand between his legs, your upper body pressed against the table as you try to recompose yourself as Miguel lifts up the back of your skirt to study your glistening pussy and thighs. He pressed a small kiss on your pussy lips before readjusting your underwear to cover you again. A proud smile graces his lips as he watches the previous wet spot in them get darker from the cum still trying to leave you.

When he pulls the skirt back down, he finds you looking over your shoulder with a shy look. His beautiful good girl is back to her doe eyes and flustered cheeks. Miguel tucks himself back into his underwear, zipping himself back up. He takes the time to lazily look around, amazed that no one realized what was happening or witnessed it. He stands up off the chair, looking back towards you and wraps one of his arms around your middle to pull you up against his chest. 

The tiniest of squeaks leaves you as you meet his hard chest again, looking up at him with amazement. You can’t help but study his face, admiring the way his lashes flutter as he blinks and the way he looks good from even this angle. HIs eyes look down at you briefly, a lazy smile coming over his face as he shakes his head. He works on packing up your things for you, closing the unneeded textbook and stuffing it and your other supplies back into your bag. When he’s finished, he shifts his face down towards you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

The sappy smile that appears on your face makes his heart beat fast and for his own cheeks to heat up. He gulps and clears his throat, looking away as his hand starts rubbing the skin it rests over. He slings your book bag over his shoulder, the pastel color of it a large contrast over his entirely black attire. He stares back down at you, pushing hair out of your face and tilting his head at you. 

“Do you have another tutoring session to go to now?” He whispers softly, smiling when you shake your head no wordlessly. He hums in pleasure, his arm sliding from around your center and down to your hand, dwarfing it in his. He gives it a tight squeeze and pulls you with him as he starts walking towards the exit. You follow him with no resistance, just hurrying your pace to keep up with his long strides. 

“Where are we going?” You ask as the afternoon sun instantly hits both of you when you walk out the door. He pulls you straight to his car, opening the passenger door for you and closing it before putting your bag in the backseat. You watch without question through the windshield as you buckle in and he rounds the car to go through the drivers’ side door. After he buckles in, he turns and starts reversing, not answering until he’s out of the parking spot and turning the wheel back to straighten it. 

“Imma take you home so you can change.” He says simply, turning to throw you a quick smile before grabbing your hand again and intertwining them as he clutches onto the gearshift. “And then, I’m going to take you out on a date.”

Part 2

Literally the longest thing I’ve posted because I love this request so much! I now reached 100 pages in my writing doc. As always, SpanishDict was used.

[darkbluekies]

OMG SILAS WEDDING? YES PLZ THAT SOUNDS SO GOOD

Saying 'I do' is like a death sentence

Yandere!mafia OC x reader

Sumamry: Silas gets you to marry him

Warnings: threats, mentions of murder, guns, forced marriage, dubcon kiss?, violence, mentions of punishment, trauma from said punishments, possessiveness, jealousy, family drama

Word count: 3.5k

Things have been awfully quiet these last days and you've noticed a certain spark in Silas’s eyes. You didn't think much of it before seeing his second in command — whose eyes are normally dead — light up. But no one has talked to you.

You’re sitting in the window, looking out over the front yard and the houses down the street. You’ve seen school children come home from school and their parents join them with grocery bags. They’re living so … normally.

There's a knock on the door, which makes you even more confused. Silas doesn't knock on his own bedroom door. His second in command walks in.

“Y/N, you're going to come with me”, he says.

“Why?” you question.

“You will see. Come.”

You hesitate. Silas has told you countless times to never listen to any of his men, never walk somewhere with them. The only one you should listen to is Silas, the only one you should ever walk somewhere with is Silas. He has tested you before to see if you would leave the house with any of his members … and you’ve been greatly punished for it.

But Silas’s trusts his second in command … you know that he would never betray Silas.

“You don’t need to be afraid”, the second in command says and waves at you to come over.

“I don’t want to be punished …”, you whisper.

He takes a step forward. You press yourself closer to the window. It’s another trap, you’re certain of it. Silas is standing outside the room, waiting for you to take the bait. This is the final level, to see if you would listen to the man he trusts the most, one that you think that you can listen to. You shake your head quickly.

“Y/N, you can trust me”, his second in command says and puts his hand on his chest. “I swear on my mother’s life that I won’t get you into trouble.”

“Has Silas told you to get me?” you question carefully.

“Yes.”

Slowly, you get down from the window and walk over to him. He puts his hand on your back to guide you out of the room, into the corridor and down the stairs. Your heart is beating loudly against your ribs. What if the second in command is lying?

“Where is he?” you ask as you make your way down to the first floor.

“I am taking you to him”, the second in command says calmly.

You stop and turn to him. “Please promise me that this isn’t a test, and that I’m not going to get punished.”

“Y/N, I’m not lying to you. Silas have asked me personally to drive you to him.”

“Why?”

“You will find out once we get there.”

“Okay …”

You follow him out to a car. He holds the backseat door open and lets you jump in.

“Put on a seatbelt or else Silas will kill me”, he tells you.

You pull the seatbelt over your body and clicks it into place while the second in command walks around the car to sit down in the driver’s seat. You watch the houses as you drive by.

“I really thought that this was going to be one of those tests …”, you admitted hesitantly while scratching your nails. “I really don’t want to go down to the basement again.”

“I understand that.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Depends.”

“Don’t you ever feel bad for … what happens in the basement? To any of the people unfortunate to end down there?”

“Not necessarily. Most of the people that gets thrown down there has done something to deserve it. You see, Y/N, Silas never hurts anyone without a reason. If he could have it his way he wouldn’t hurt anyone, but people are stupid enough to cross and challenge him.”

“What would he do without it? Isn’t that how you’re supposed to survive and climb the ladder in this world?”

“He would do his business and trading without hurting anyone. In a perfect world, people pay on time and doesn’t try to steal territory. No human likes hurting anyone else — unless they’re psychopaths, but that’s rare. Even the most gruesome killers have guilt.”

“But how can he hurt someone he loves? I could never do what he does to someone I love.”

“I won’t meddle in your relationship, because that’s not my business, but things aren’t black and white.”

“I wish things could be colorful for once.”

The second in command sighs and turns on the radio. You listen to the music as the landscape outside the car swishes by. You don’t recognise anything, except for a supermarket chain that you used to shop at. Soon, you start to think that the silence between you two feels sickening. You can’t stop thinking about what awaits you once the car stops.

“I know that you’re not allowed to actually conversate with me, but can we just … talk about anything?” you sigh and shrug while trying to find a suitable conversation topic. “Could be about the weather.”

“The weather?” the second in command scoffs and smiles in amusement. “Fuck no.”

“How far is it left?”

“Around fifteen minutes.”

“You don't talk much normally, don't you?”

“I talk when I have important things to say. Otherwise, why should I? I get paid to act, not to talk.”

“I don’t get paid at all.”

The second in command tugs at his smile. “You still have it better than the majority of us.”

When the car finally stops, you look around to see that you’re by the beach. The second in command opens the door for you and helps you out. You look around and feel your heart sink when you see where Silas is, and what’s surrounding him. Candles and flower petals. You stop right in your tracks as you go stone cold. You’ve feared for this day.

“What are you stopping for?” the second in command asks and gives you a small push. “Come on.”

You notice a gun in his hands. On stiff, frozen legs you stumble towards Silas. The sand feels heavy under your feet. Silas smiles and takes your hand.

“I think you can guess what I’m going to do”, he says cheekily and takes up a small, black box out his pocket.

You shake your head, but Silas doesn’t seem to notice — or care. He gets down on one knee. You try to pull your hand out of his grip, but he tightens it.

“I don’t think words can explain the amount of love I feel for you”, he starts.

It’s not love. It simply can’t be.

“I know that I want to spend my entire life with you”, he says, looking up at you in awe.

“N-No … wait-”

He opens the box. “Will you marry me?”

You can’t breathe. You know that if you answer no, you might get to taste the gun in the second in command’s hands and you’ll definitely end up in the basement. But you can’t answer yes. If you do, you will be bound to Silas for all eternity. You will have to wear a ring claimed by him, take his name, officially be his. You will be known as his husband/wife forever.

“Y/N, I think that you better want to answer ‘yes’”, he whispers warningly, “for your own sake.”

You hesitate, going through every possible scenario. Every scenario where you decline him ends in physical and mental pain — not only to you, but probably to your family as well. If you accept his proposal, you will trap yourself deeper into his spider web and get tortured for the rest of your life, but you won’t piss him off. You can’t win, no matter what you choose.

“Okay …”, you whisper in defeat. “I will.”

Silas’s face lights up. He shoots up from his knee, wraps his muscular arms around you and devours your lips with his. He pulls your hand to him and places a ring on your finger. The ring is made of a shimmering gold and multiple glistening diamonds. You can’t help but stare at it.

“Congratulations, boss”, his second in command smiles. “You’re going to have a marvelous wedding.”

“Let’s go to a restaurant to celebrate this”, Silas smiles and start to walk with you in his arms. He gives his second in command a tap on the shoulder. “You too.”

The man smiles and follows.

You eat at his favorite restaurant, but you can’t seem to swallow any of the food. A lump has formed in the back of your mouth, preventing anything from passing it. Silas conversates with his second in command, only noticing your sulking after finishing his own food.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asks, touching your cheek. “Are you not hungry?”

You shake your head.

“That’s okay”, Silas says softly and caresses your shoulder. “Do you want to take it in a togo-bag?”

You nod.

That evening when you get back home, you’re allowed to sit at Silas’s place at the end of the long rectangular table in the dining room with your heated food. You can hear Silas’s men move through the house. Silas and his second in command are in his office to plan the wedding.

You notice that someone is about to sit down on the first chair of the long side of the table. A man you have never spoken to before.

“Hi, care if I keep you company?” he asks.

Too shocked to answer, he takes your silence as ‘yes’ and sits down. You glance at the open door towards the hall and swallow thickly.

“You shouldn’t-”, you try to tell him, to warn him about Silas, but he cuts you off.

“I heard that you got engaged today”, the man says slowly and looks down at your ring. “I guess that I have to say ‘congratulations’.”

“Yeah … thanks …”, you mumble dreadfully. “But you really should-”

Your sentence is cut off by the man in the chair getting ripped up by a harsh force. You hadn’t heard Silas and his second in command leave the office.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Silas questions and pushes the man away from you. “Do you have a death wish?!”

He signals for his second in command to get rid of the man. Silas sighs heavily, runs his hand through his black hair and sinks down on the same chair he had ripped his worker from. You avoid his eyes.

“Are you okay, little thing?” he asks and you can hear how he’s trying to stay calm. “Why didn’t you tell him to walk the fuck away?”

“I tried”, you mumble. “Twice.”

“He knows better than to talk to you. Seems like you’re even more irresistible now that you have a ring on your finger.” He sighs and rubs your back. “You’re mine, and soon they all will know.”

Days go by. Silas’s second in command takes you to try dresses/suits, but for the most of the time you’re in your bedroom, waiting. Every day takes you closer to your wedding day, that horrifying moment.

And finally, one day, it’s time. Silas’s second in command has taken you to a venue where you’ve gotten your own room to get ready in, but when the time is due for you to walk out and say your vowels, you refuse to come out of the room. There’s nothing you want less than to get married in front of people that you hate. You can’t imagine anything more humiliating.

“Y/N, come on”, the second in command says as he opens the door. “Everyone is waiting!”

“I don’t want to do it!” you burst out, full on panic.

“Silas have spent a lot of time and thought about this for you. He has even invited your family. Would be a shame if they came here for nothing, don’t you think? Don’t you think that they want to see you again? Don’t you want to see them one last time?”

You give the second in command a glare. He walks over and grabs your arm, helping you up on your feet.

“Come on”, he says. “We don’t have all day.”

He’s going to walk you down the aisle to deliver you over to Silas, as planned and try to pull your arm away from the second in command, but his grip on you tightens. The second you get into the venue and see the rows of chairs filled with Silas’s men, his family and your family, you stop, eyes tearing up when seeing your parents. Realization hits you again. You’re not only getting married, you’re also saying goodbye to your old life — a life that you will never get to live again. The second in command drags you past all the guests, over to Silas. You stare at your family, taking them in. Haven’t they changed since last you’ve seen them? Aren’t they looking older? Do they think that you’re different? Do they still recognize you as their little boy/girl? Silently wishing that they would stand up and object to everything happening, you continue your way down the aisle, towards Silas. Surely they have to understand that you’re not doing this by your own will? You would rather be at home with them.

You feel how the second in command moves you over to Silas. The ceremony seem to go by in a fuzzy daze. Words are being said but you're not sure who says them. You're brought back to reality when you hear Silas say ‘I do’. Your first instinct is to pull yourself away from him, but he doesn't let you.

“Your turn, Y/N”, he whispers with a tilted smile. “Tell everyone how you're giving yourself to me.”

Time seems to have stopped. You look out over the audience, at your poor family. They look nauseous. You wonder what kind of threats they have been told to keep them silent in their seats.

And you notice someone else — someone you never thought Silas would invite. Ares. You know that he hates his little brother with all his might, why would he invite him to his wedding? The day that's supposed to be his best day ever. You guess that the older couple by him are Silas's and Ares's parents. You have never met them before, but it's clear who Silas’s has gotten his face from. He's a spitting image of his father. Ares resembles their mother more.

Silas opens up his blazer to show you a gun, which you don't have to doubt is loaded.

“If you — or anyone — tries to object in this marriage, Y/N”, he starts with a dark voice, dangerously close to your face to make sure that no one will hear, “they'll die. Do you understand that?”

You nod unnoticeably, too mortified to do anything else. You understand him very well, and you believe him.

“You better say ‘I do’”, he whispers, voice even darker. “You belong to me. You are mine. Do not ever forget that.”

“Promise me that they won't get hurt”, you whisper as quietly as you can.

He takes your hand.

“I promise”, he says and kisses your knuckles harshly. “Say it.”

You clear your throat to make sure everyone will hear you, so that you don't have to repeat yourself. Giving yourself to this man once is enough.

“I do”, you say.

Everyone but your family and Ares claps. You're puzzled by the look on Silas's parents faces, as if they're not happy but still want to support their son. The rest of the cheering guests wear bright smiles, happy for their boss. You don't dare look at your family.

A new, bigger and more flashy ring gets placed on your finger and you put Silas’s new ring on his with shaking hands. You try to pull the collar of your clothing to the side, to be able to breathe.

You've kissed Silas’s before, but never like this. Never in front of so many people. You don't have time to think before his lips are on yours and you accept it, knowing that you've already signed your life away, refusing to kiss him won't change a thing.

The afterparty goes on without you. You don’t want to see everyone celebrating you when you never want this in the first place. You are allowed to go back to the room where you had gotten ready and sit in your solitude. You can’t help the tears running down your cheeks in silence. What have you done? Could you have done something differently? No, you couldn't. If you did, your family would get hurt. Instead, you’ve trapped yourself in a venomous spider’s trap.

You hear the door open and hurry to wipe your tears.

“Uh … hi”, a familiar voice says.

You turn to watch Ares close the door behind him. You freeze. If Silas finds him here, your wedding will be even worse … and frankly, after everything Ares have done to you, you don’t want to be alone with him either. You stand up and try to leave the room, but he stops you.

“Wait, let me talk to you”, he says.

“Don’t touch me”, you hiss.

He pulls his hand back and sighs.

“It shouldn’t be you and Silas”, he says in defeat. “You didn’t want to marry him, I saw that. We can run away now and you’ll never have to see him again.”

The proposition alone makes you scoff.

“And why would I want to go anywhere with you?” you spit angrily. “You’re as sick as Silas! I don’t want anything to do with any of you. It’s bad enough that I’m stuck with one … I don’t need the other. Leave.”

Ares twitches his black eyebrows and pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Alright then. Guess I’ll have to force you with me.”

“If you touch me I will scream.”

He gives you a glance as if he’s weighing the outcomes. In a quick motion, he grabs you, trying to pull you over his shoulder. You scream and hit him, causing enough commotion for the door to swing open and for Ares to be ripped off of you. Your vision is blocked by someone dressed in black.

“Get the fuck away before I kill you”, you hear the man in front of you say. “I mean it.”

You expected it to be Silas, but it’s his second in command.

“Touch my boss’ wife/husband again and I’m breaking your neck”, he warns and rolls up his sleeve.

“Why don’t you get the fuck away and let me do what I want to do, hm?” Ares responds harshly.

“You’re really asking for it, aren’t you? This is a wedding, don’t be stupid like usual, Ares.”

“I’m stupid? Have you seen my brother?!”

“Leave, Ares. I don’t want to cause your parents any more pain.”

“What’s going on?”

Silas’s voice makes you want to crawl into a hole and never come out again.

“What have you done, Ares?” Silas asks coldly.

“You’re just going to assume that I’ve done something, huh?” Ares growls.

“Why would my man waste time talking with you unless you’ve done something completely idiotic?”

“I heard Y/N scream and found Ares trying to kidnap them”, the second in command says and reaches back a hand to make sure that you’re still there, or to console you.

Silas turns his face towards his brother, his black eyes burning with anger. Before Ares has time to defend himself or throw an insult, Silas has hit him. Hard. You watch how blood seeps from his nose.

“Don’t think that you can ever try to take them from me”, he warns. “They’re mine. See the ring on their finger? Belong to me. I have all the legal rights to say that now. Don’t fucking think a thing.”

Silas puts his arm around your shoulders.

“The only one that gets to touch them is me, so put your greasy little hands away before I cut them off and force you to eat them”, Silas warns him coldly. He turns to his second in command. “Let’s go home, I don’t want to sabotage the after party.”

You’re pulled along out to Silas’s car.

“I should have known that this wedding would have drama”, the second in command sighs. “Why did you even invite Ares from the start?”

“Because I wanted him to see Y/N giving themself to me”, Silas smirks. “To annoy him.”

“You’re supposed to be older than him.”

“Oh shut up, let me have some fun.” He turns to you, growing softer. “Are you okay, little thing? Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head. If anything, you hurt him when clawing at him.

“Good”, Silas smiles and caresses your cheek. “Let’s go home.”

In the car, he takes your hand, inspecting the ring with a cocky smile.

“Now you're officially mine”, he whispered, looking at you with intense, dark eyes. “Forever. And there's nothing you can do to separate us.”

[luveline]

i lowkey need to see stripper!reader and spencer again

for you gorgeous ♡ fem

cw adult themes

Hotch and Spencer draw attention at the strip club for the same reason but in varied fonts. They're both reminiscent of your regulars, Hotch the picture of a businessman with a wife to forget and steam to blow, and Spencer the silent sweetheart, pretty but too shy to talk to normal girls. 

He doesn't need a normal girl when he has you. 

You're glad for your cover up clothes as you lean against the dressing room door. One of the bouncers peers at you from the corner of his eye. 

"Trouble?" he asks. 

"Not sure. Probably not." You wave until Agent Hotchner notices you. To your delight, he raises his hand politely. 

You step around the bouncer and bypass the stage to the lighter area of the club where they stand in wait. "Hello. I could've met you outside." 

"Would you?" Agent Hotchner asks. 

You don't need him to explain. It's not the most professional thing, loitering in a club like this. You follow them out of the club and onto the street, cold even in your sweatpants as the wind rails. Spencer lets you squeeze his fingers in greeting, but that's all. 

"It's nice to see you again, Agent Hotchner," you say honestly, giving him a smile. 

He doesn't return the pleasantry, but Spencer swears he's softer than he looks so you choose to run with it as Agent Hotchner says, "We need information on one of your patrons." 

"Tennis Lawley," Spencer adds. 

"Tennis," you repeat. "I thought my pseudonym was bad."

Spencer gives you a quick look. I'd laugh if I weren't at work, it says. "We think he's involved in a string of killings in Washington DC. What do you know about him?" 

It's not an exaggeration to say you've played therapist for Tennis and a ton of guys just like him. Being a stripper, an exotic dancer, whatever anyone wants to call it (though Spencer usually just calls it your work) has pros and cons. You've felt it to be heavier on the con side, but this is a big plus, being able to assist someone you care about with something important. It makes you feel useful for once, like you're more than the froth of the city. "Ask me anything," you say, hiding your cheek from the cold with a deft hand. 

Spencer and Agent Hotchner ask you all sorts of questions, personal to their suspect and less so, and for the most part you're able to answer them. You can tell from the look on Hotchner's face that he's both surprised and extremely satisfied by your knowing, and he emphasises his thankfulness with a touch to your upper arm before he says goodbye. "Your help is invaluable, Y/N, thank you." 

Spencer, your sweetheart, stays for a more thorough farewell. 

"Have you eaten yet today?" he asks, the hand you'd squeezed earlier leaping for yours. "You look tired." 

"It's getting close to midnight, Spence. I'm alright. You and Agent Hotchner should head home and rest yourselves…" You bring your hand to his cheek but think better of yourself, pushing your arm over his shoulder instead for a hug. His own arms contract around you immediately. "I miss you lately, where have you been?" 

"Everywhere. I miss you too," he says. Despite the months of knowing one another, and the many states he's seen you in, you know without looking that Spencer is blushing profusely. 

You kiss his cheek as your heels return to safe ground. "Come and see me again soon, okay? And bring your rich friends. The older one, Rossi, is he really a millionaire? A divorced one?" 

"Yes, he is," Spencer says with a laugh, his voice climbing higher, "but I don't think he's looking for another wife right now, sorry." 

"Maybe Agent Hotchner–" 

"Stop calling him that." 

You look Spencer straight in the eye, nearly caught off guard by how sweet and soft they meld at your touch where your hands linger in his. 

You often think that you and Spencer aren't meant to be. Your life, whether willing or unwilling, by choice or design, is entirely focused around your body, and Spencer's world revolves around his mind. You know that what you do for work isn't anything to be ashamed of, but you have the same doubts as anyone else. You know what people think of you. You wouldn't blame Spencer for thinking the same things. And you wouldn't expect him to want to be with you in any aspect that wasn't physical. 

But when he holds your hands in his like this, as though they're made of something delicate, something he wants to map every detail or by fingertip alone, you wish things were different. 

You clear your throat. "I really do miss you when you're away," you confess. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Don't be." Your hands miss his the millisecond you pull them away. "I guess I shouldn't keep you. Your boss will be wondering where you are." 

"Are you okay?" 

You can't even pretend it's a strange question; you're acting strange. "I'm fine, Dr. Reid. My nice new boss knows I know the feds, and all the girls are jealous of me when you guys come to visit. They think I'm on your payroll." 

Spencer quirks a puzzled frown, brows pulled together tightly. "You're harder to read than most people. Have I ever told you that?" 

"I guess it's 'cos I spend so much time pretending I'm a different person," you say, smiling to prompt him into smiling back. 

"Maybe." He pulls his bag from where it rests against his hip and opens it, rummaging through the contents with a confused murmur until he pulls out the shape he'd been looking for. "Here. Don't go to bed hungry, okay?" 

Spencer puts a protein bar in your hand. 

He steals a quick hug and leaves not long after that, crossing the dark parking lot to the mass of the dark SUV he arrives in. With one hand, you clutch the protein bar until it takes a new shape, and with the other you blow two sweet kisses, a cheesy, gaudy gesture that never fails to make your favourite special Agent blush. 

[ghcstao3]

soap who grew up with a grandmother who constantly warned him about all the kinds of fae folk that existed, how to tell if someone was something, how to avoid them and how to fend for himself were anything to happen.

as a child, he soaked up all of her stories with awe, keeping all the rules in mind. as a teenager, he’d secretly roll his eyes but go along with her words to appease her. obviously fae folk weren’t real.

as an adult, not seeing her so often, he kind of… forgets. the stories and rules stay dormant in the back of his mind, never completely lost, but they’re not relevant anymore—at least, so he thinks. it’s all been dumbed down to fae folk are bad, and that’s about all he needs. soap goes years without so much as thinking the word fae, and his life goes on just as normally as anyone could have anticipated.

or, well. as normal as it can get, being in the sas.

and then he’s invited to join an elite task force, and that’s where he meets ghost.

soap doesn’t think it’s too odd to regard ghost as strange right away, not with the whole mask and mysterious persona thing, but as he gets to know the lieutenant more, there are certain things that start to have soap on edge. that have him thinking about fae lore more than he has in years.

like how his eyes reflect light like a cat’s at just the right angle. or how sometimes the way he talks just sounds off, almost like he’s trying to mimic someone else. the first and only time soap sees ghost’s face, there’s something uncanny about it that he can’t quite put a finger on. the tells continue to add up as soap starts to really look, and while he could never say exactly what ghost is, soap is sure as hell he isn’t human.

but the thing is… ghost isn’t bad. not in the way soap’s grandmother had warned him fae folk would be, at least. sure, ghost is a damn good soldier who’s garnered quite the kill count through various honed, deadly skills, but he isn’t bad. or evil, soap should say—even with questionable decisions, ghost’s heart always seems to be in the right place. he doesn’t have bad intentions unless something involves getting revenge, and he doesn’t unnecessarily hurt people just for the sake of his own entertainment.

it’s all confusing for soap, to say the least. his conflicting knowledge leaves him wondering if he should be trusting ghost, even in spite of the plentiful times ghost has proven he’s trustworthy. soap wonders if he should say something, wonders if he should drop hints he knows, wonders if ghost would be dropping an act the moment he’s been made.

the conclusion is pretty anticlimactic, all things given.

ghost catches soap alone after soap has had his realizations, having immediately noticed something off about the sergeant—which isn’t right, because soap is the human. he asks if something’s the matter, soap spills everything, and ghost doesn’t even flinch. just tells soap that his suspicions are justified, because ghost is a changeling.

“you’d admit it, just like that?” soap asks, dumbfounded.

ghost offers a stiff shrug, and no further explanation. he leaves soap feeling stunned, returning to whatever it is changelings do in their down time.

as if that didn’t open a whole new can of worms. as if a dam wouldn’t burst, and a million questions would come flooding into soap’s mind.

maybe he should pay a visit to his grandmother some time soon. it’d be nice to know whether he’s now in danger of being eaten, or something. soap can’t remember.

and now somehow, for some reason, soap has a burning desire to get to know ghost even better.

maybe ghost is evil, despite all prior judgements.

(or maybe soap is just in denial about a few things. but one thing at a time.)

[pyrodolls]

superfan! and stalker! yandere boys x reader hcs (but they're animal hybrids)

✰ warnings: obsessiveness, sfw, murder, mentions of corpses, just overall unhealthy behavior cuz they're yanderes. (i do not condone yanderes irl and this is for writing purposes) gender neutral reader, no use of y/n.

✰ a/n: guys idk why i havent updated in so long. ig i just havent had much motivation?? anyways ummm i'm still super busy right now and i have 400 assignments due in 3 days but i don't wanna do them soooooo how about i write some short and cute headcanons for y'all? 😁

if bayani was a puppy hybrid...

clingy clingy CLINGY

bros going wherever you go. even if u gotta take a piss he's gonna hold your hand. wait, you don't want him in the bathroom with you? at least let him sit outside!

he is very easy to distract, though. if you ever want to be alone for a while but he just won't leave your side, throw a tennis ball somewhere and it should keep him busy for a solid 10 minutes.

loves snuggling with you. he literally distracts you and takes up at LEAST one hour every morning trying to keep you in bed with him. if you leave him alone in bed, he'll be whining until you come back.

he's also very talkative, and always yapping your ear off about random nonsense, until you tell him to shut up. problem is, if you tell him to shut up, he isn't going to open his mouth again for a few days. he'll be very sulky about it and look up at you with those big puppy dog eyes of his, silently hoping you'll allow him to speak again. as much as he loves hearing you yell at him, he still doesn't want you to be mad at him for long periods of time.

he'll eat anything you cook. you could be the worst cook in the world and burn your dish to a crisp, and he'd still eat it up like it's nobody's business. he doesn't even notice if it's well cooked or not, he sees anything you create as a masterpiece.

but this also means he's like a guard dog! even though he is quite small and his face isn't very intimidating, he tries! he goes to the gym frequently so he can be stronger for you. he wants to be able to defend you if anything goes wrong.

he is very patient. if you have any work or assignments you need to get done, he'll sit and wait however long you need him to. he'll even bring you beverages and snacks so you can keep working without getting up.

overall, he has some similar traits to a puppy, but he's still the same optimistic (and obsessive) bayani.

if victor was a cat hybrid...

LMFAOOO good luck getting away from him.

bros a silent killer. he watches from afar. if you happen to feel his eyes staring at the back of your head, and you look to see if your feeling is correct, he'll snap his head the other direction so you don't suspect a thing.

he follows you around, but unlike bayani, he wouldn't stop if you asked him to. and he isn't in your personal space, he is much farther away so it's harder to tell when he's tailing after you.

and like a cat, he proudly brings you dead things and is convinced that you would like it. usually he kills anyone that seems to be too close to you, and shows it off like a trophy of his affection and strength.

victor would kill someone and be like: "this week's new corpse looks awesome. they'll totally love this, i gotta show them!" (you did not, in fact, love seeing the rotting corpse of your friend on your doorstep.)

he guards your house as if he's a soldier at war. if he sees anyone break in, or if it's an insect that happened to fly in through your vents, he'll eliminate the threat before you even notice it.

he's also quite moody. sometimes he's affectionate and kind to you, then the next minute he'll act like a brat and expect you to cook and clean for him.

and if you called him out on his behavior, he'll act all pouty and mutter: "i don't do that.." then he'd get up and silently do some chores around the house as an apology. if you brought up his acts of service, he'll get flustered and say you were "too lazy to do it yourself" or something along those lines.

overall, he's quiet, moody, and does things his own way. unlike bayani, victor doesn't do anything you ask him to do, but he still shows his affection for you in his own subtle ways.

[ivys-garden]

Wild Life Spoilers: Session 2 Alliance Report:

Teams:

The Spanners - (Mumbo, Grian, Skizz) - formerly the Sub One Club, immediately forget their idea of using crawl mode and lament that they can't be sub one anymore. Mumbo then decides they are “The Floaters” due to them becoming obsessed with the levitation ability. Luckily this doesn't stick because I could not handle an alliance that changes name every session. Mumbo and Skizz built their “base” as a series of bridges, leading to Mumbo calling them “The Spanners” since “they span things”.

Speaking of levitation, they died from that. And starvation. This was not Mumbo or Skizzes session, with Mumbo losing two life's and Skizz losing 3, halfing his amount of lives in one session. If Skizz loses one next week he will be yellow. Seems Grian's curse of outlining his alliance has started early.

The Bam-Boozelers - (Scar, Lizzie, Jimmy)

I normally have a lot of faith in all life series teams. I think anyone can make it to the end. I think this so long as it is not abundantly clear that they're doomed. I never say someone is Doomed from the star-

This team is doomed from the start. Immediately they decide that the Wild Card is that he can't heal from hunger, now this is a good first thought and is shared by other teams, though those other teams immediately realised that if that were the Wild Card everyone would die of hunger and started looking for other options.

These 3? They stuck with that idea and started making boats to travel. When they realised that their hunger reduced passively, they panicked until Grian saved them by telling everyone in chat that they could eat anything. Now, armed with this knowledge they just have to find a good and easy to use food source.

They chose stone shovels. An item that cannot be stacked and required way more effort and resources to make than was worth it. And they stuck by this even as others told them about better foods. They only stopped using shovels because of the randomisation.

How is Jimmy the most confident member on his team?

In other news, they're theme park is going well and Lizzie's Parrot is cute. Jimmy also apparently has “Big Mascot Energy”.

Renwood - (Martyn, Ren)

These dogs are just vibing. They each lose a life each, no big deal. A far cry from previous seasons, Ren is just chilling, Not going after anyone unless they go after them first and trying to get Martyn to do the same. And he actually does, not attacking anyone this session at all. He even gives up going after Jimmy for stealing their cows (an action which was by every account deserved.)

The Tuff Guys (Tango, Etho, Bdubs) (not technically together (?))

Ah yes, Team B.E.S.T without Skizz …. Considering Skizz was the only person keeping Team B.E.S.T from imploding, this can only go well!

Yeah this team is not staying together. Technically they're already breaking up, with Bdubs saying they should only look out for themselves and insisting they live in different houses. Bdubs even cements this mentality by fully encouraging Scar to help kill Tango for no reason.

As for the “Tuff” part, Etho has decided that they need to be tougher and take what they want from people. You know, not to be nice or polite.

Luckily we can see how this works in practice, as Gem encourages him to go be tough to the Final Girls, let's see how Etho is an not being nice:

● he greets Scott and Cleo

● makes small talk

● politely asks for copper

● tries to stop Pearl stealing from them since he doesn't know she's on they're team

● takes more of the stuff he was told he could have

● gives them obsidian in return anyway

● and still feels bad about it.

Yeah not only was this the least tough Etho had ever been, the Girls almost certainly didn't notice and probably won't even care when they do. Great job Etho.

The Fast And The Furious (Gem, Joel)

This session, Gem announced her plan to make friends so people don't judge them based on 5 seasons worth of going insane every time they go red. This lasts for 3 minutes before other people arrive, Scar misunderstands instructions, Etho lets the cops out and the Final Girls partake in their favourite pastime of miscommunication and insisting their own teammates are doing something they aren't.

Other attempts to make friends do go better, with Gem arguably being on good terms with everyone except two people. So that's good.

Gem also builds a cute little Bard that I give a session before it's burnt down or has a Creeper hole in it. Joel spends all session building a car. Everyone on the server thinks it's hideous, mainly because it is hideous.

The Final Girls - (Scott, Pearl, Cleo, Impulse, Bigb)

Somehow the most stable team here, even if it is mostly out of spite. Yeah this team will stay together, the core four have never betrayed anyone unless an outside faction is involved. They're safe. Even if they continue the tradition of forgetting all the bad stuff they did and only reimbursing bad stuff their teammates did (what do you mean Pearl doesn't trust people based on what happened in previous seasons? That was you, Cleo!)

Oh Bigb also joined this session. Though I imagine this will be a Heart Foundation situation where he bases alone despite being on the team.

Scott and Cleo spend a lot of time this session fixing the mistakes Pearl and Impulse make by acting how they always do. A house and wall are built and Pearl and Impulse prepare revenge plans on Grian and Martyn. Pearl encourages Impulse not to tell the others, seemingly forgetting that Cleo and Bigb are addicted to revenge and would have no problem with this.

Alliances and Friendships:

Lizzie and Gem

these two agree to team up if their teammates die. Since their teammates are idiots.

Remember, Lizzie is the one who made the stone shovel plan.

Spanners Vs Bammers

The Bam-Boozelers still hate the Spanners, dropping their reputation all the way to zero. Mumbo and Skizz either don't realise this or don't care. Grian was gone almost all session mining so can't really say what his thoughts on the situation are.

The Family - (Joel, Etho, Gem)

Etho is indoctrinated into yet another family, though he seems more willing to be present for this one. When Tuff Guys breaks up like 5 minutes into session 3, we all know where he's going.

Also Scar might also be part of the family though every else seems to just ignore this.

Spanners Vs Tango

The Spanners are really angry at Tango for accidentally killing Skizz. They seem satisfied with manifesting his death through belief, but it seems they haven't let him off the hook yet. We all know Bdubs won't help him

Joel might also be mad at Tango since he ate the wheels of his ugly car.

Mumbo & Jimmy still hate Renwood

Mumbo still doesn't trust Martyn after the enchanter fiasco and Jimmy attempts to get revenge for the cow theft. Ren and Martyn have chosen to ignore this, Mumbo seems to have forgotten he was angry, and Jimmy is satisfied that he got revenge.

Ren buys his friends

Ren bought Gem and Tangos friendship through iron. Will this hold up? No.

Gem has beef with team oblivious

Gem hates Pearl and Impulse this season. They are at the top of her inevitable murder list.

● The Final Girls came round for a visit

● Impulse was accused of stealing

● He said he wouldt stela since he knows what it's like to be stolen from

● Gem took this as him amusing her of stealing

● Scott cut him off before he could explain himself by saying he was purposely antagonising them

● Gem cut both of them off by ranting about how much she doesn't trust them

Stellar miscommunication guys, great job as always. Please never change, the series would be way less funny if you did.

Pearl also made it worse by trying to Poison Gem 30 minutes later. Woopsie.

Neither Pearl nor Impulse notice that Gem hates them and the others refuse to tell them.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Phantom's Number 1 Fan Part 3

John Constantine calls a joint Justice League and Justice League Dark meeting.

It's not something he wants to do. He barely works with the LJD, but at least that lot understands his work and knows what to do and where to go.

The JL members always ask questions and forget proper manners when working with the paranormal- John isn't the most well-mannered bloke around, but even he knows to permanently say goodbye to ghosts so that they don't follow him home- and it's like trying to teach an intern while dodging bullets.

He prefers to avoid the whole origination, especially since Bruce's death; everyone has been walking on eggshells, and there is a sense of disorganization drenched in grief that John breaks into hives just thinking about, but this is big.

Bigger than he can handle it on his own or with just the JLD. Even if the whole group gives the bats not-so-stable glances as they filter in.

John notices that one of Batman's brats is missing- the smart one- but he has heard that the kid suffered some kind of psychotic break from his father's death. It's sad, really, mainly because John used to believe that the third Robin was the one with the good head on his shoulders.

What's worse is that the Third Robin up and ran off, having gone off the grid when he refused to accept Batman's death. The boy hadn't said anything besides, "The portraits told me!" after having a miniature breakdown in his home.

It didn't help that around this time, the boy teammates had all dropped like flies except for one. So yes, John knows it wasn't a big surprise that he lost it, but it was still sad to see. Kid is only seventeen.

He hopes they find him soon to give him the help he needs. John would offer a spell to try and find him, but he needs to learn about the kid better, which means his spell can only point in a general direction.

Nightwing looked downright ragged, but losing a father on the battlefield and a younger brother to his grief did a number on anyone.

John hates himself just a little for dragging the grieving family here. He does, but again, this is bigger than all of them. This is a matter of life and death- literally.

"Listen up. We have a bloody level ten on its way to Earth if it's not already here." His words cut through the muttering crowd, shutting everyone up. A level ten makes even the big, lousy Superman sweat. He snaps his fingers, allowing his magic to shift into the image of a King Phantom sitting on his throne- painted in the early 1200s and the picture that can be used to identify him.

The art style would have been almost modern if it wasn't for the unease that the painting could cause due to the glowing green from his majesty's portrait. They say the green was ectoplasm from the king himself- and that alone should warn others to not mess with him.

Everyone Justice League Dark member hissed through their teeth, sitting up straighter and a few even pale. John is once again grateful that they understand just how deep in shit they genuinely are.

"This is the Ghost King. He is not to be confused with a god or king of gods. He's something else entirely because he makes gods nervous. He is on his way here to kill whoever is dumb enough to threaten his pregnant fiancee, and I fear the rest of Earth will be collateral if we don't prepare-"

"That's Danny Phantom," A young voice cuts John off. He is surprised someone would talk over him in a level ten briefing. All eyes turn to Robin- er, the new Robin.

The kid is frowning at the image, his signature scowl already deeper than usual. He's also heard the new Robin was a spoiled boy who was not a team player.

"You know King Phantom?" John asks.

Robin nods. "Placeholder is obsessed with him. Half his room is covered with King Phantom's heroics."

"Do not call him that.," Nightwing hisses a second later. He frowned when Robin ignored him but returned to the room without further comment on the boy's cheek. "Danny Phantom is a low-level search and rescue hero. He pops up around the world but only sometimes interacts with people. Robin- Young Justice Robin- was obsessed with him."

The room gains an awkward weight as no one is willing to bring up the mentally unsound MIA teenager.

It's too bad for them. John has never cared about making anyone comfortable. "You said his room is covered in images of King Phantom?"

From the corner of his eyes, John catches sight of Zatanna's face. She's pale white, with a horrified expression as if though she was standing before the grim itself. Every other member of the Justice League Dark is in a similar state.

"Yes, he has a whole wall of posters and stuff." Nightwing conforms, and shit John knows who Phantom's after now.

The thing is, one just doesn't have pictures of King Phantom. No one knows why, but the Ghost King can not be documented. Not without having some kind of connection to the King.

Throughout history, the only ones who have ever had even one solid picture of the king- John's magic doesn't count cause he can't well hold the thing up forever- usually meant that the King would appear before them at one point.

There is also a myth if one could beat a member of the royal ghost family, then one wish is granted to them. If one can kill a royal ghost member, death can be overturned.

It's not true, obviously, for death is not easily beaten like that, but John knows that as an expert, would a mentally unwell teenager know the same?

It was also known that if the King appeared before you, something terrible would happen. The sighting of King Phantom often came as an omen and usually right before a terrible disaster.

In the last disaster, they lost Batman, and if King Phantom had shown up, where the Third Robin have spotted him? Where the Third Robin have thought the King could return the dead?

Not to mention the rumors!

King Phantom was hunting down a group of humans known as "The Bats." John hadn't put that much stock in that rumor simply because it could have been anyone- hell, when he looked up the bats seven different groups appeared, varying from boy bands to zoologists.

But if he placed the name "The Bats" next to the Third Robin's psychotic break, his obsession with King Phantom, and his intertwined fates...well, shit.

There is a slight chance that the Third Robin's fate could be intertwined with the Ghost King in a positive light, but John has learned to not be optimistic in his line of work.

"I think the Third Robin is gunning after the Ghost King's fiancee and unborn child in a misguided attempt to bring Batman back to life. He may have kicked started a war that humanity can not win," He announces. He hates to say. hates to even suggest it, but the needs of the many outweigh those of the few. "We have to find the Third Robin and attempt to stop him. If we can't reason with him, we must put him down."

Wonder Girl gasps a sob, pressing her hand against her mouth.

John hates himself a little more as she sobs; a few rushes to confront her, but no one is unaffected by the news.

"I'm ordering a hunt for the Third Robin," Wonderwoman speaks up to her steady leadership, returning everyone from their despair. "Every available hero will help. Do not use lethal force unless there is no other choice. We may be able to find him before King Phantom's armies arrive."

John just hopes they are not too late.

Meanwhile, across the plane of existence, unaware of the manhunt for his head, Tim Drake is trying to stare down a Yeti, attempting to put him in silk clothes that are just fabrics held together by strings.

"No."

"But-But- but you have such a flattering figure! You must flaunt it! The Great One will barely be able to contain himself if he sees you in this!"

"No. It looks like something you wear on a honeymoon to seduce your spouse. I'm not walking around in that."

"Well, you don't need to bewitch his majesty. You already have a child on the way." The Yeit mutters, considering the fabric in his claws with a frown. He is Frostbite's royal tailor and has been attempting to dress Tim for over an hour. Everything he's suggested so far looks like it came from those romantic fantasy games.

It's like they want to make him a sexy consort or something.

Tim's teeth grind against each other. He hates how often his role is reminded, how casually the yetis mention that Ra's expects a child from Tim.

He doesn't even know how that child will come to be, and it makes him sick. He's been bidding his time, waiting for his wounds to heal and to find a weakness in the frozen fortress, but so far, he is unsure how he will escape.

And Bruce is still out there, waiting for Tim to get him. He can't waste any more time here.

"How about this cloak?" The Yeti offers, holding up a dark metallic fabric that reminds TIm of his Robin cape. "If we are going for a more conservative look, something that screams power is just the way to make the masses wild!"

Ugh, he really needs to think of a plan soon.

[86espresso]

Hi can I request “I trust you more than anyone in the world” with Luke Hughes

thank you for requesting! 🩷

☯︎ “I trust you more than anyone in the world”

IT shouldn’t have hurt you as much as it did. If your guy best friend gets a a girlfriend it’s logical for you to step back because the girlfriend will and should get priority.

It’s basic rules. And it works the other way.

But, god, didn’t it hurt the way Luke entirely started ignoring ignoring you when Cailee walked into his life.

You’re glad he’s treating his girl well, almost as well as he treats you. He just hasn’t gotten a matching tattoo with her yet, or told her that he wouldn’t be anywhere without her.

The other laughable thing about this whole thing is that Cailee looks a lot like you. Uncannily. You connected the dots in your head pretty soon and watched as Luke’s friends laughed to him about it. It was like idiots in love except one of them was smart.

You were currently at a frat party on the terrace, nursing a drink of something that might kill you if you have another. Watching as Cailee pulls Luke into a corner to talk him down. She looked like she was lecturing him, throwing gestures, pointing her finger in his chest and then in your general direction.

You smile, you knew exactly what was happening. How cliche.

Only five minutes later, Luke’s footsteps slow down two feet away from you.

“Evening.” You lift your drink, looking at your best friend of as long as you can remember.

“Can we talk? Please? I need to tell-”

“I know.”

“You- what?”

“Me too.” You trace the rim of your cup, stealing a glance at his face. “Took you quite some time, hm?” You nod towards where Cailee was.

You spoke again after seeing the look of guilt on his face. “I trust you more than anyone in the world. I know you didn’t date her to hurt me.”

He visibly relaxed. But he had a load of other apologizing to do, so he opened his arms as a peace offering. You laugh and hug him, noticing the way way one of his hands traveled to your hair and one stayed in your waist. He hugged you tight.

When you kissed him, it was like you thought it would be. Familiar, as if it had happened before. But thrilling all the same.

[prentissluvr]

you'd dance with me? — sam winchester

for : 200+ followers event [ closed ] ➖⟢ pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : fluff, light angst ➖⟢ cw : reader gets sort of stood up, alcohol, reader is tipsy, swearing, (not) unrequited love, barely edited ➖⟢ wc : 1.4K prompt : telling them they deserve better (and silently wanting to be the one who gives it to them)

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

the man from the bar, james, isn’t your exact type. no one is except for sam, because you’re irrevocably in love with him. but since you can’t have him, and you’re dying to have a fun night without every second being consumed by thoughts of him, how much you love him, and how much you’re sure he doesn’t love you back, you turn to flirting with the nearest handsome single man.

and that means james. james has been nice enough and asked you to call him jamie, because “that’s what his friends call him.” dean gave you an impressed look as you walked past with “jamie” on your arm, and you winked at him, feeling playful and hopeful for a fun night after a tiring hunt. dean grinned back and sam barely gave any indication he noticed you before you settled at the bar and launched into a decently boring conversation with james about his corporate job and the fake life that you spin up for him.

that was over half an hour ago and it’s been at least twenty minutes since james excused himself to the bathroom with the promise that he’d be right back. you know he’s not coming back, but you stay rooted to your seat anyway.

it takes a few more minutes before sam appears, taking the previous man’s spot by your side.

“he left, didn’t he?” you ask, forlorn and not even bothering to look at sam as he settles next to you. sam cringes and nods. you sigh, not having to turn your head to see the movement through the corner of your eye as he confirms your suspicions. sam wonders if he should tell you that the asshole left with someone else. you deserve to know, but he’s hyperaware that it’ll only add to the sting. 

he takes in the look on your face and the empty shot glass that you fiddle with, and he immediately knows that you’re much more upset by this than you normally would be. of course, the situation is completely shitty, for anyone, but on any other day, you’d probably brush it off by looking for someone better or heading back to sit with him and dean for some fun with them (if dean’s still around by then). today, you’re alone and at least an extra shot or two in since the guy left, likely making you more tipsy than you intended to get tonight. more than that, the frown on your lips is easy to see and read, far different from the smile you normally give him when you’re pretending not to care. tonight you don't attempt hide it.

“you okay?” he finally asks. you sigh again and surprise him a bit by dropping your head on his shoulder. this kind of touch between the two of you isn’t abnormal, but these days it feels like you’re avoiding it a little, which sort of kills him. it takes you a moment to answer, but when you do, sam’s heart clenches.

“i just wanted to dance with someone tonight.” your voice is sad and candid from the removal of your filter by the alcohol in your system. for a moment, sam is blindingly angry with the asshole that stood you up, and he has to hold back a vehement curse before recentering his focus on you and the sad pull between your eyebrows. he just clenches his jaw and lets you say what you need to before he lets any of the million things he wants to tell you fall from his lips. “he said he’d dance with me when he got back… then he didn’t come back. d’you think it’s stupid i wanted to dance? think that’s why he left?” 

now sam’s heart is plain-old breaking for you. he wants to ring the neck of the stupid man that made you question yourself like this, made your voice sound so dejected. then he wants to sweep you up in his arms and hold you close and kiss your forehead and tell you that it’s the sweetest, most endearing thing in the world that you want to dance. tell you that he’ll dance with you every night despite the fact that he can’t do much more than hold you and sway with you. tell you that he’s completely and enduringly in love with you. he discovered that recently, though he figures it’s been true for a long while now.

he has to settle for something a little more tame because you’re upset over another guy, because you're a little tipsy, and because he can’t lose your friendships if those words don’t come across well.

sam puts his arm around your shoulders and you sink further into him. “if that’s why he left, he’s an idiot. anyone in their right mind would trip over their own feet to dance with you. no one in their right mind would leave you– someone like you, sitting here alone,” he says your name so soft and loving that he thinks he’s given himself away until he remembers you’re not picking up on everything right now, “he didn’t deserve you. you deserve a whole lot better than that ass.” i’d be so good to you, he thinks.

“yeah,” you agree, still sounding a little despondent.

“if you– if you still wanna dance, you’ve got a willing partner,” sam forges ahead, anything to make you smile.

“mm, where? james probably left with someone else, for all i know.” he doesn’t like that man’s name on your lips, and maybe you’re a little more drunk than he thought, because you’re not getting the hint as quickly as you normally would. if you were sober and trying not to act upset, you’d say that all with a playful tone to your voice to tease him for offering. right now, you just sound sort of unbelieving.

“you know,” sam responds, keeping his voice just as serious as yours instead of matching that tease like he normally would.

this time you let a bit of humor slip into your voice, but it’s still sort of pessimistic, “what? are you gonna drag dean away from whatever girl he’s found just to cheer up my sorry ass?” sam has to laugh a little at that thought, because it’s a silly image and almost funny how you refuse to see him as an option.

“your ass isn’t sorry,” sam smiles all soft when that pulls a half-hearted snort from you. his voice is still gentle as he finally says, “i’m right here, you know.”

when you tilt your head up to look at his face, and finally, finally, he gets your eyes on his, he almost melts to the floor. you’re looking at him, sweet and soft with your eyebrows pinched together like you’re not sure if he meant it. then there’s that little hint of hope and joy swimming around in the pretty pools of your eyes and it sets his heart afire, just like that. you’ve done just about nothing special, but to him you’ve done everything.

“you’d wanna dance with me?” you say it like you can’t believe it, like that’s exactly what you’d really been hoping for all night and it takes everything in sam’s power not to swoop down and kiss you right then and there. he’d wanna do a whole lot more than dance with you, but it’s a wonderful, glorious, honey-sweet way to start, he thinks.

“of course,” he grins at you, and that’s all it takes to pull a big smile over your features too. that’s just about everything sam could ever ask for, and it brings a flood of relief over him. he just can’t help himself when he asks, “that is, if you’d want to dance with me? i’m sure i’m not your ideal dancing partner for the night, but hopefully i’ll do.”

“of course i want to dance with you, sam,” you say, so blatantly honest that it makes his heart hurt, “and that’s not true.” you won’t explain what you mean by that, so sam stands with you and gladly lets you use him for balance. it’s not true that he’s not your ideal dancing partner? is that what you meant? he certainly hopes so, because that must mean, by default, he is your ideal dancing partner, and you wanted to dance with him tonight, not this awful james.

maybe you love him back a little, he hopes, as your wrap your arms around his middle and let him sway you back and forth, all gentle and smiling.

[venusdandy]

God's Rival [Part 1]

[Hazbin Hotel x GN!reader] [Platonic]

Story Summary: The Demiurge is what they decided to call you. You aren't human, angel, or demon. You're something else entirely—an enigma in each realm. The only being who had ever shown you kindness was the fallen angel Lucifer since he freed you from Heaven's prison by offering Eve the apple from your tree. You promised him a fruitful favor in exchange, but he has not asked anything from you. Until now, that is.

Chapter Summary: After the death of Adam, the residents of the Hazbin Hotel discuss ideas of how to protect Hell from Heaven's potential wrath. Reluctantly, Lucifer mentions he knows someone who owes him a favor and quite literally may be the only deity able to help them.

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader (they/them pronouns). No use of (y/n). The reader is genderless and AroAce—platonic relationships with the characters only.

The reader gets referred to as the "mother of chaos" once (in the same way one refers to mother nature). Nifty calls the reader a "bad boy" once (before meeting them). The reader is only referenced in this chapter without appearing yet.

Part 1 [Here] Part 2

The residents of the Hotel are gathered in their new lounge discussing the most recent extermination, or more specifically, Adam's death and the consequences. Heaven hasn't made any contact with Hell yet, but then again, it's only been a few days.

"I still think my idea is better," Angel smirks as he leans back on the couch comfortingly.

Vaggie growls with frustration, but Charlie quickly intervenes by gently touching her lover's shoulders. "Angel, we appreciate your help, but um," Charlie smiles tensely, "I don't think you seducing the angels in Heaven will help."

Angel shrugs. "Best idea anyone's had in the last hour."

Well, he isn't wrong. They've been severely lacking in the brainstorming department. After the conclusion that killing the first man has undoubtedly set off alarms in Heaven, for the past three and a half hours, they've all been discussing potential ideas to protect Hell from Heaven.

So far, Husk has thrown out that they should just set Nifty loose in Heaven (which Vaggie actually considered), Alastor has been making angelic puns (not at all helping), and Charlie has been pitching many civil plans to persuade Heaven (all her plans are in song form).

Lucifer has been very quiet throughout this. He's only been partially listening to everyone, as he is too focused on his worries. He's been mentally debating bringing up his idea; it's potentially the only way they'd stand a chance against all of Heaven's wrath.

But so much could go wrong. . .

Charlie must have noticed the faraway look in her father's eyes. She gently calls out to Lucifer, making him jolt out of his thoughts. He straightened up in the armchair and forced a smile. "Yes, Char-Char?"

Charlie holds one of her dad's hands with concern. "Are you okay? We can take a break if it's too much."

Lucifer sighs, letting his body sink into the chair, and his smile drops. "No, no, it's okay. I just. . .I have an idea."

Charlie perks up at this, a big smile shining on her face. "That's great!"

Lucifer opens his mouth but closes it again. He really doesn't want to mention you, but they've been shoved in a corner, and it's starting to look like only you can break down the walls.

With a reluctant sigh, Lucifer asks the others, "Have you heard of the Demiurge?"

Alastor hums with amusement as his grin stretches. "If you don't have ideas, there's no need to make up words. Just admit that little head of yours is empty!"

Lucifer, unknowingly falling for Alastor's rage bait, glares at him. "I'm not making up words, you oversized dried cherry! That's their title!". Lucifer then specifies your actual name.

Charlie clears her throat, awkwardly trying to distract the two demons. "Okay, let's calm down and hear what Dad's idea is."

Lucifer crosses his arms, still glaring at Alastor as he explains. "The Demiurge is responsible for a lot but mostly known for creating the mortal realm and overall shaping the material world. They're the maintainer of chaos."

Husk scoffs and mumbles under his breath, "Did a shit job maintaining the chaos in my life."

Charlie anxiously shifts her weight from leg to leg. 'Maintainer of chaos' doesn't sound very appealing. "Soooo, are they. . .nice?"

Lucifer finally looks away from Alastor; his smile is pissing him off more anyway, and he shifts his body to face his daughter. "Nice?" Lucifer repeats, "Maybe? From what I remember, they treated their creations with kindness."

"Creations?" Vaggie asks with a raised brow, "What does that mean? Like weapons or. . .?"

"Life.", Lucifer clarifies, "The Demiurge is capable of creating intelligent life forms."

This hooks everyone's attention. Even Nifty stops herself from stabbing a bug and looks up curiously. The little unfortunate bug quickly scurries across the floorboards, trying to escape, only for Nifty to leap at it again with her knife closing in on it.

"Like God? The fuck?" Angel asks with astonishment.

Lucifer nods. "They're powerful, so I thought about summoning them to help us since they owe me a favor anyway."

"Favor?", Charlie asks curiously and slightly worried.

Lucifer was about to explain further but decided to tell the Demiurge's origins so everyone could better understand who you are.

With a wave of his hand, a large and old book of the universe's secrets lands in Lucifer's lap. He opens it to the exact page of your tale and takes a deep breath before reading out loud.

.

"Before time, there was only the Celestial power in a realm called Heaven. But that power balance began to tip when an unknown angel mothered a deity with unbelievable divine powers that she abandoned their child in a clouded realm. The young deity lived for millennium alone, thinking they were the only being in existence. With no guidance from their mother, their power was disorganized, and they created galaxies, planets, and even complex life forms in their clouded realm.

After discovering the mysterious deity and their divine powers, Heaven deemed them a possible threat to the universe's balance. Questions rang in Heaven, wondering where this God-like creature came from. Only one angel knew who the deity was and where they came from, but she stayed quiet in fear she would be punished. It was her very own sinful thoughts and overwhelming emotions that had birthed her child.

The deity was elated to witness life forms they did not create, as they were not as alone as they formerly thought. At first, knowledge was transferred in civil conversations to understand each other's existence. The deity showed their realm, and in turn, the angels showed theirs. Heaven was more lenient towards them after witnessing their calm and happy nature. The deity behaved much like an angel, Heaven thought, so they let them remain in their realm of creation.

It was during that time the deity discovered they had a mother and how she abandoned them over her selfish desire to protect herself. The deity then lashed out with exasperated grief. The one who gave them life was ashamed of them. Their creations began behaving more aggressively and rigidly as the deity's emotions swam in negativity. Once again, Heaven became alarmed by the deity's power. They threatened the deity to stop, or Heaven would have no choice but to force them to stop by the power of the Heavenly Father. But the deity was too far lost in their rage of despair to listen. So, Heaven destroyed the deity's creations to almost extinction and trapped their soul within an apple tree. This massive tree became known as The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.

After 65 million years, the Heavenly Father created the first humans within the Garden of Eden. As long as the humans didn't eat the forbidden apples of The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, they would live a pleasant life under God's guidance.

But, the life balance for humans forever shifted when Eve accepted the apple from the serpent and took a bite.

The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil vibrated until it burst into golden flames. The deity stood freely with their power surging through their veins once again. There was no longer only peace; now, there was chaos in the world.

That was the rebirth of The Demiurge."

.

After Lucifer finishes reading the timeless tale, he gently closes his book and teleports it to where it belongs with cloudy red magic. It's been a few millennia since he's sat down and read the origins of the Demiurge like this.

Nifty squeals from her spot on the floor laying on her stomach, kicking her feet in the air. "A bad boy!" She giggles.

Lucifer quickly clutches his fists in his lap as he realizes he's shaking with anxiety. Honestly, Lucifer does NOT want to call upon you. So many things could go wrong, and the first thing that comes to mind is how awkward it'll be. He can't just be like, 'Oh hey, haven't seen you since Eden! Could you fight Heaven and protect Hell for us? Thanks!' ABSOLUTELY NOT!

The second reason is that Lucifer has only a vague idea of what you're capable of. He knows you're powerful; he was one of the angels investigating you and your realm of life.

You treat your creations with love and gentleness, as Lucifer's father does with his creations. But you're the Demiurge, maintainer of chaos. Your mere existence allowed chaos and evil to spread in human souls. What motivates you? What are your aspirations?

. . .And would you be a threat to Charlie?

Vaggie's eyes are narrowed, glaring at where the book just was. Having the radio demon managing the hotel is enough of a risk as is; she will not allow some powerful entity- the maintainer of chaos, that is, anywhere near Charlie.

Husk is the first to break the tense silence with a slight smirk on his lips. "That's some serious mommy issues."

Angel snorts. "Careful, whiskers, the Boogieman might just catch ya for saying shit like that."-he suddenly scoots closer to Husk on the couch, invading his personal space. "But don't ya worry, I'll hold ya real close for safety!"

Without even looking at Angel, Husk shoves him off the couch. "OOF!"

"Boogieman?" Alastor asks with some amusement.

Angel sits up on the floor and shrugs in response. "They sound creepy, like the Boogieman." Angel grins wide with a laugh, "Hey, maybe you and them will get along then, Smiles!"

Alastor only raises a brow at Angel's comment. If anything, the Demiurge will most likely piss him off like Lucifer does. But either way, he's deathly curious about you. What exactly can you do? Or rather, what can he exploit from you?

Lucifer groans and throws his head back against the armchair. "I don't know if we should ask the Demiurge for help. . ."

Charlie quickly shakes her head. "What, why? You said they can help, and they owe you a favor anyway! We have to ask, at least!"

Vaggie rests a hand on her lover's shoulder. "I'm not sure about this either, Charlie. This isn't your average favor exchange."

Charlie is about to argue more but closes her mouth. She bobs her side to side in acknowledgment. "Yeah. . .but Dad freed them from the tree, and helping us protect Hell from Heaven is sorta like freeing us, right?"

Now, Vaggie nods but sighs in exasperation. "Babe, we can't trust the maintainer of chaos who, might I remind you, brought evil into the world."

Lucifer, without a second thought, jumps to your defense, "Now, I wouldn't say they brought evil into the world. Evil already existed; human souls at the time couldn't comprehend evil. That's how they were originally designed. The Demiurge brought the ability for humans to understand evil, and I gave humans free will." He rubs his neck awkwardly and mumbles, "And I mean, it was their world before Heaven took control of it."

Husk scratches his chin in thought. "Sounds like they'd be eager to fight Heaven if that's the case."

Charlie claps her hands together in determination. "Exactly! I'm not for the idea of revenge, but they already aren't on good terms with Heaven. And it sounds like we- as, in Hell, are on neutral terms with them?"

Lucifer nods, but he's still not convinced he should summon you. . . Indeed, you've never shown malice towards Hell, but you've also never shown any signs of supporting Hell.

Well, you've shown respect for his family, which he is confident of. Lucifer can recall how each year, on his and Lilith's anniversary, they'd receive a generous gift from the Demiurge. They especially received a lot of gifts from you for the baby shower Lilith held for the nearing birth of Charlie.

Now that Lucifer is thinking about the Demiurge more, how'd you even know these dates? Neither he nor Lilith invited you to their wedding or baby shower, yet you still sent them gifts. Lucifer always assumed word had got around, and that's how you heard of it, but you were always so precise with the timing, too.

For instance, when their marriage started going South, instead of receiving one gift from the Demiurge on their anniversary for them to share, Lucifer and Lilith received their own uniquely catered gift. He was so emotionally distraught back then that he never realized how odd and borderline creepy that was. How could you have possibly known that Lilith and him weren't doing well? Not to mention how after they split apart, they received no gifts from you! How do you know all of this?! Are you hiding in his castle walls or something?!

Alastor knocks his cane against the wooden floorboards to gather everyone's attention. "I must agree with our dear Princess! We need extra assistance for what's to come, and it sounds like the Demiurge is the one for it."

Lucifer glares at Alastor. Well, now that he knows Alastor wants you to be summoned, Lucifer wants to summon you even less now!

"Plus!" Alastor continues with a stretching smile, "Our little King and the Demiurge are bound by a contract! They must fulfill their end of the bargain whether they want to or not."

"Preferably wanting to!" Charlie quickly adds, "Actually, only wanting to! We aren't forcing anyone to do anything they aren't comfortable doing!" Alastor subtly rolls his eyes.

Lucifer takes a breath in through his teeth at that realization. "Uhhhh, we didn't shake on it soooo. . ."

Vaggie immediately facepalms. "Are you serious right now?!"

Alastor's neck snaps at an angle toward Lucifer. "You didn't. . .Make an official deal? Then what makes you think this creature of chaos would willingly do you a favor?"

Lucifer stands from his chair with a glare and points an accusing finger at Alastor, "Excuse me for having more important things on my mind like, I don't know, getting out of Eden alive!"

Alastor's brows furrow together with irritation, and his smile sits tightly. Leaning onto his cane for stability, he bends forward to reach Lucifer's much shorter height. "You're excused."

Lucifer starts rolling up his sleeves. "Alright, you pompous prick-"

"Okay! That's enough!" Charlie quickly intervenes by leaping between the two demons with a nervous smile. "How about we finish this discussion tomorrow after thinking more about it? Sound fair?"

Reluctantly, Lucifer backs off, blowing air out his nostrils with pent-up anger. Alastor shows no further vexation as he straightens up, firmly placing his hands on his cane.

From the floor, Angel raised one of his hands. "So, question about the Demiurge."

Lucifer sighs with exhaustion but brings his full attention to Angel anyway. "Ask away; I'll answer the best I can."

Angel smirks as he asks, "What do they look like? Are they sexy?"

Husk and Vaggie groan at the question, not even surprised. At that, Husk stands from the couch and goes to the bar. He needs a drink—or maybe 12.

Lucifer, on the other hand, was genuinely pondering the question, the first half at least. "Uhh, from what I remember, the more humanoid form they take on have ears and a tail like a lion and golden scales on the edges of their face, around their eyes, and just scattered around their body, I think."

The term 'humanoid form' catches Alastor's attention. According to Lucifer, it sounds like the Demiurge is a creature that naturally doesn't look like a human and instead takes on that form, most likely for simplicity purposes. From the spiritual knowledge Alastor has gathered throughout his time in Hell, he's come to find that beings of higher ranks typically have a more abstract form. In that form, they are the most powerful, so to harness and control their magic, they take on a humanoid form.

"How interesting," Alastor hums, "A feline and a reptile."

Finally standing up, Angel whistles with a grin. "I've been with both, and I gotta tell ya, those scaley motherfu-"

Angel gets cut off by Vaggie punching him in the gut with the dull end of her spear. "Shut the fuck up, Angel!". Angel only laughs as he clutches his stomach.

Charlie winces and immediately but gently grabs her lover's elbows, making Vaggie lower her spear. "Okay, I think it's time to get ready for bed now."

The residents of the Hotel each do their nightly routine before ending the eventful day in their respective rooms. Though, with the most recent events taking place, they all find difficulty relaxing.

Can the Demiurge truly help them. . .?

They can only hope so.

[iouinotes]

Show-off | Mike Ross

pairing: Mike Ross x female!reader

show: Suits

genre: smut word count: 2,9k

summary: you and your co-worker Mike dont get along very well. But when you have something that he needs, suddenly everything is different.

a/n: Just watched the first two episodes of "Suits" and something about Mike is really attractive-

Working in a well-known office as a lawyer has it's advantages. Such as being respected by business people or being able to afford a lot of things, you spend all your evenings analyzing documents rather than meeting actual people.

Nevertheless, sometimes there are also negative factors. For example, my co-worker Mike, who really believes, that he is with his ridiculously skinny tie and sarcastic humor better than the others. Or right now, better than me.

"God, I cant believe you. Can you behave for once?" I use my fingers to push my hair back in frustration, noticing how my head starts to hurt. Its 10 pm and I'm currently trying to stay calm, though because of one man in particular, my nerves seem to be getting thinner within seconds. Valuable time is wasted that I could spend somewhere else instead of with him.

"Now it's my fault, that you don't have the documents with you? Sorry, I can't help you being organized in your own workplace." His voice irritates me. Everything about him is so frustrating.

"I told you, I didnt get the message! How am I supposed to know, that you need something, when you don't tell me anything about it? Maybe you should stop being so childish and ask me in the first place, instead of running to Rachel!" If our job had nothing to do with justice and we werent literally standing in a law company right now, I would kill him. And then I wouldn't hesitate to go to court and say it was self-defense, because I didnt want to hear any of his miserable excuses anymore.

"So what do you think, I should do? I need these documents for tomorrow. Please, I know you don't like me, but it is really urgent." Why does he has such blue eyes? The look he is going me is even more irritating than his voice.

I sign, exhibit my laptop and try to put the pens back, that are laying all over my desk.

"Okay, fine. As I said, the documents are at home, so-" I don´t even get to finish my sentence.

"Great, so I'll meet you there. And I wont even tell anyone, if your place is a mess." His eyes wander over my messy desk, and even If I don´t like to admit it, it's a bad habit of mine. But, he shouldn't make any assumptions about the neatness in my apartment.

"I hope you loose the documents on your way home." At my words, he grins smugly.

"Well, then I could lie and say you didnt found them anymore and I hadnt had the chance to go through them." He leans towards me.

"I'll run you over with my car." He raises his eyebrows at my threat.

"You sure should do something that makes you smile more often. Is that even something you know how to do?" I show him my middle finger and turn to left my office. When I close the door, I hear the laughter in his voice.

"The next storm should be named after you as quickly as you left the room." He follows after me.

"Can you shut up for once? Oh, I forgot. You don´t last one second being silent. Thats a shame, the world could finally heal." His hand rests on his heart, his features fake a hurt expression.

"Ouch. You really don´t like me that much, huh?" His eyes try to search mine.

"You get on my nerves on purpose every fucking day. Should I thank you for that?" I turn my head to look at him.

"Yes, you should. Your life would be so boring without me." He grins at me again from the side, that typical grimace that is always adorn on his face.

"You wish." When I tell him my address, he raises his eyebrows, but before he can make an unfavorable comment, I get into my car.

Darkness surrounds me and when I see him going away, I lower my head to the steering wheel. He really is the best at confusing my emotions.

~~~~~

I turn off the lights of my car and get out of it, so I can finally make my way to my flat. Its not something special, I mean I have a living room, which is quite big and connected to the kitchen, a bedroom and a bath. But I am very lucky, because I have a small balcony, from which I can watch the stars at night. But I usually only do that when I can't sleep.

So, when I enter my apartment, I let my eyes wander over the manageable mess, I put some clothes back in the closet and the dishes in the washing machine. The place almost looks decent, when I hear the doorbell.

As I open the door, I'm nervous for some reason. I let him in and turn to my office drawers, looking for the document.

"Nice place. You live here alone?" His fingers trace my bookshelf, I see him reading the titles.

"No, my wife is still at work." When I look at him dead serious, I see him laugh in surprise.

"So, you do have humor. I thought, you were one of those exceptions that wouldn't be able to do that." He means it as a joke, but something in my chest hurts.

When I reply with a monotonous voice, I see his eyebrows pull together. "I live here alone. That's what you wanted to hear?" I'm getting more frustrated again with every second he's around me.

"No- I didnt mean it that way. I'm sorry. My intentions were good, I promise." When I look at him for a moment, I see his honest expression.

It would be so easier for me to hate him, if I didnt know, he was a good human. Well, most of the time.

We are silent for a moment, but when I hear his footsteps, I tense up.

"What are you doing?" He's now standing right next to me.

"Helping you. You seem a little, tense?" I glare at him for a moment and he raises his hands in defense.

"Just pointed out the obvious. But dont worry. You still look lovely." I stop in my movements at his words.

"Thats such shock for you?" His voice shows surprise and a certain curiosity.

"Only that you say it." I look into his eyes.

"Well, you may think I'm dumb, but I'm not blind."

He just called me beautiful, sort of. It´s confusing me.

When I finally find the documents, I hold my hand out to him.

"I don´t think you are dumb. I think you're annoying. And a show-off. I don´t like that." His eyes follow me.

"What do you like then?" His question surprises me. He slowly takes the documents out of my hand, his finger gently brushing mine.

"I don´t think that is any of your business." I try to clear my voice. His touch makes me shiver.

"Come on, tell me. Would that be so bad?" His whole presence is making me nervous and I feel my hands start to shake.

At work, I can always hide behind a mask, pretend that nothing he does affects me. I can act like I truly hate him, even though I catch myself looking at him, from time to time. Especially when he shows off his intelligence without realizing it, impresses his clients and -I would never admit it- me too. It's a certain charm about him, the way he always knows how to answer, while being mischievous and clever about it.

But now, that he's in my apartment and so close to me, it's suddenly different. And I don't know how to react to him being nice.

"I look for someone who isnt afraid of commitment. Someone who is honest and kind, but who also challenges me. I want to feel safe, so I can put my trust not only in myself."

He nods and is quiet for a moment, I begin to feel stupid for telling him all of that, when he responds.

"I get that. Someone whose shoulder you can lean on when things get too much. Someone who meets your needs, who wants to be in your life. For longer than a one-night stand." He smiles at me and I see for the first time, why I possibly could like him.

"Also, statistics show higher rates of being robbed or kidnapped, when you have one-night stands." This remark almost makes me laugh, even though it's frightening.

"Well, who would even notice, if I would disappear? Probably only my clients, because they need me." I lower my head, being completely honest with him for the first time.

"I would notice."

When I look at him, he takes a step towards me. His fingers gently slide over my shoulder and brush my hair aside, the touch makes a warm feeling bloom in my chest.

"I couldn't annoy you anymore. My life would be pretty boring without you. And it's not so bad to be able to look at such a pretty face every day, even if it always looks at me annoyed, like all the time." I quietly laugh at that, feeling surprisingly good because of his compliment.

We look at each other, now being really close. My eyes travel to his lips and I don´t even know how it happens, but suddenly he is all over me. His lips on mine, his hands on my waist, lifting me up to sit me on the desk. I moan softly when his hands tangle in my hair and he pushes himself closer to me, so that he's standing between my legs. One of his hands gently wraps around my neck and I feel my loud pulse.

My hands move too, stroking his back and holding him closer to me by his tie. As he pulls his lips away from me, he lifts my chin with his finger. Now, looking down at me with widen pupils. I hold his eye contact, forgetting all about my issues with him, when he speaks to me with a deep voice (which I suddenly don´t think sounds irritating anymore).

"Be angry at me tomorrow and mine for tonight. I bet, all your frustration from work and your thin nerves can catch a break, what do you say?"

Not much. Because I pull him towards me by his tie and kiss him again. I don't want to stop at all anymore. He returns the kiss with the same enthusiasm and his hands find their way to my waist again to lift me up again. When he crosses the living room with quick steps and lays me down on the sofa, I already feel out of breath and clearly turned on.

His kisses become more intense, his lips move from my mouth to my neck, leaving marks there. But it feels too good to make him stop.

"I will gladly hear your excuses, when someone asks you about your hickeys tomorrow. Because you will be all flustered, when you think again about this moment. Where you are ready to be fucked by your colleague, who you despise so much." I whimper as he pushes up my dress and his hands pull my tights down to my knees. The cold air hits my skin, but I don't really notice it, because his lips are on my neck again and his fingers connect first with my stomach and then further down. I hold my breath as his lips touch my ear and his fingers stroke my folds.

"So wet for me. Didnt think, I would turn you on this much." I kiss him to shut him up.

"You are-" I moan, when he finally puts a finger in me. "-so annoying." He laughs at me.

"Am I? But you seem to like it." I feel myself getting wetter, his fingers feel so good as they move gently but firmly inside me. One of his hands moves to push my dress further up and somehow, he manages to pull it over my head. Now, I'm lying in front of him in just a bra, his hands slowly find their way over my body and to my back, which I lift slightly so that he can open the clasp.

When I lie naked in front of him and he massages my breasts, his lips touch mine and his fingers stimulate me, I feel like I'm in heaven.

He breaks apart, so he can look at me and I draw my eyebrows together, when his fingers increase in speed. My mouth opens and the sounds that escape me echo in the apartment.

"I'm- god, I think I am going to come-" at that he starts to tease me, going slower but a lot deeper. My eyes almost roll back as he hits a certain spot inside me.

"That feels good? What do you say, when you want something?" You stupid idiot.

"You stupid-" I begin to say as his lips graze my nipple and his finger scissor and stretch me out further.

"One word, darling. Say it." And because I feel this knot inside me (and maybe this side of him turns me on, like a lot), I finally open my mouth to please him.

"Please, Mike. I-I need to-" My sentence is cut off as his fingers speed up and I moan loudly.

"Thats a good girl, you can be so good to me, if I make you." His lips search mine as I finally come. My breathing is heavy and when I come down from my high and look at his face, I see the satisfied expression.

"You are done-" I can't maintain my strict facial expression and suddenly have to start smiling. His eyes widen in surprise and I raise my eyebrows, still smiling softly.

"What?" I quietly laugh at his expression.

"Nothing, its just- I have never seen you smiling so happy." I roll my eyes gently. As I look at him closer now, I see the bulge in his pants and the loosened tie. As I lean forward, his eyes shift to my body.

"You still are fully clothed. A bit unfair, don't you think?" I watch him swallow and my hands move to his chest to slowly unbutton his shirt. As I also remove the tie and slip the shirt from his shoulders, I sit myself on his lap. Rocking my hips forward and seeing his eyes close. His hands move to my hips and begin to control the movements, my eyes close too and my head leans into the crook of his neck as the movements become faster.

Sighs and heavy breaths leave his lips and once again, one of his hands moves to grab my breasts, lightly grazing the nipples.

I look at him, noticing his swollen lips and his flushed cheeks. His hair is a mess and his forehead is furrowed, but he tries his best to pull himself together.

I groan as I look at him and suddenly think back to todays afternoon, when he was on a phone call and I heard how he listed one reciting fact after another, without any difficulty.

"What are you thinking about?" His voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

"N-nothing" I'm definitely too embarrassed to admit how much his intelligence and the way he seems to know everything, turns me on.

One of his hands moves to my entrance and teases me by just circling around it. When I try to push myself down, he pulls his fingers away.

"You tell me, whats going on in that pretty head of yours and you'll get me." My body feels so hot, I can't think properly anymore.

"You where on a phone call today and you just- you listed without any effort every single point that will help you win the case. You just said it like- it's nothing."

When his fingers dig into me again, I bite my lips. I try to control my moans and not pay attention to the fact, that I just gave him every opportunity to make him be more complacent than his usual self.

His fingers pump into me and I feel slightly overstimulated. But I wouldnt want to stop now.

"You get off by the thought of me, saying memorized facts? Who would have thought that my intelligence would turn you on so much." God, his ego probably doesn't fit in this apartment anymore.

"Don't think too highly of yourself, you still annoy me." Now I'm really just trying to get myself out of the situation. I lean towards him, so he can't say anything anymore and pull on his blonde hair to distract him.

Moans escape my lips and when I notice that his noises are also getting louder, I pull away from him. He looks at me confused.

"I want you inside me." Thats all I say, but he quickly complies with my request. I slide off his lap and wait for him to take off his pants and boxers until he's finally on top of me again. His fingers find my bottom lip and while maintaining eye contact, I open my mouth so he can insert a finger. My tongue brushes against his and after a few moments of him pressing on my tongue, he lets his fingers move back to the spot that needs him the most.

He stretches me for a few minutes until he finally guides his cock to my hole and slowly penetrates me. My eyes close and I hear his breath in my ear as he pushes further.

"You are so tight- good thing finally someone fucks you." I nod without thinking and hear his laughter in my ear.

"You think so too, huh. Would you let anyone fuck you then?" My stomach tenses, I feel the pleasure growing again and every movement of him. This feels so good-

I try to shake my head, but I'm too lost in the sensations to pay much attention to his words.

"No? But I thought, you hate me. Why would you let me fuck you, if you don´t even like me?" His thrusts become faster and more uncontrolled, I feel him getting closer to his own high.

"I-" I try to stutter "d-don´t hate you." I feel myself getting closer and reach into his hair, pulling at the roots and feeling his lips on my shoulder. His thrusts become more powerful and as he moves his hand and massages my clitoris, suddenly everything goes white in front of my eyes and I come.

I feel every inch inside of me, feel his fingers brush over the visible bulge in my stomach and think to myself: god I feel so full

When he comes too, I moan so loudly that it's impossible that my neighbors didn't hear me. His hand finds its way around my chin, he slides a finger into my mouth and I feel my vagina tighten because of it.

He hisses and his thrusts slow down until he finally pulls out of me, trying not to fall on top of me. As I give him some space next to me, he falls halfway on me, but pulls me on top of him in the next second and I can hear his strong heartbeat. With his outstretched hand he pulls the blanket over me, that had fallen to the floor.

We both try to catch our breath and as the minutes pass, only the wind outside is heard. He is the first to break the silence.

"So, you don't hate me?" I lift my head from his naked chest to look at him.

"Only sometimes." He shakes his head and smiles, gently stroking my back.

The evening went by quickly, we ordered a pizza and ate it (clothed) on the terrace. We were going over his documents for tomorrow, I blushed at the thought that this was the real reason he came here, but he just hugged me from behind after we finished and continued watching the stars.

It's not really clear what this evening means for us, but I don´t want to get into that, not yet. Because I'm not sure what it means anyway.

Because now, I have to get used to the fact that his voice no longer irritates me, that his jokes no longer annoy me and that he as a person, is actually not as bad as I imagined.

"Who thought, I was the one to get you relax."

But he is still a show-off.

[nxtaliaistyping]

scarecrow escaping from Arkham to go to his partner's house and show her how much he missed her (I leave you that idea)

Scarecrow coming back to his girlfriend’s place <3

Author’s note: love love love this request, doctor crane my beloved <3

18+ nsfw, fem reader, fear play mentions, creampie

As Jonathan heaves his way through the typical rain that covered Gotham city at this time of year, he realises he’s still smiling.

Gassing the imbeciles that make up the security team at Arkham asylum had been a gleeful experiment. He’d watched with the familiar glint in his eye how they’d grabbed at their own throats in terror, writhing on the floor as the horror filled their senses.

But he had to tear himself away, knowing this was his chance at escaping. So he’d slipped away from the asylum, keeping to the shadows so no eagle eyed night walker would notice the garish orange of the Arkham prisoner jumpsuits.

His first instinct was to go to a safehouse, get to work right away at enacting his revenge on the city for incarcerating him. But his feet seem to have a mind of their own, and as much as he hates to admit it, his heart does too. So he finds himself knocking harshly on your apartment front door.

On the other side, you're a startled wreck. It's 1am for gods sake, and someone is banging on your door. With a shaky voice you ask who it is, your breath catching as you do.

"...it's me..."

You'd recognize that voice anywhere, and with a furious conviction, you open the door and see your lover standing there. He stumbles in, running a hand through his slightly greasy hair before slamming the door behind him. His hands are on you immediately, pushing you against the wall as he breaths raspily.

"Missed you sweetheart...like you wouldn't believe."

His tone has your skin tingling with excitement as you reach out and gently touch his jawline, as if you confirm he's actually here. "How did you..."

"I'll tell you later." he remarks gruffly, before his lips attach to your neck and gently suck, like his first instinct was to remark you as his own. "Just missed you."

Before it can strike you just how vulnerable he's being, he captures your mouth in a searing kiss that effectively kills off any lingering thoughts you had. It's clumsy and messy, his need winning out over technique as his tongue traces your own.

He moves to place sloppy kisses down your neck, tugging the straps of your nightgown to access more skin. He grins as he feels the material in his fingers; he'd always told you how much he loved that nightgown on you, said it reminded him of a slasher victim in a bad horror film, one who'd provocatively search the house before being killed in a gruesome way.

The white lace makes you look so...vulnerable in his eyes, like a lost lamb willingly baring her neck to the wolf who wants to eat her. So he keeps tugging, until your breasts spill out over the fabric. He attaches his lips to them, sucking softly as you gasp and run fingers through his hair.

"Jonathan...bedroom." you say, knowing that in his state, he'd most likely end up fucking you right there in the hallway. He reluctantly detaches himself from your tit, tugging you hastily to your bedroom and pushing you down onto the mattress.

"You don't know what it was like in that damn place." he remarks, finally getting sick of your nightdress all together and roughly tugging until it hangs loosely around your ankles. "How infuriating it was. I had Nygma in the cell next to me ranting that nobody was matching wits with him, and Tetch in the other going on about wonderland or whatever bullshit."

He moves to your wet pussy, hole twitching slightly as he runs his long digits through your folds. Catching the wetness, he circles your clit in precise circles as he continues. "Couldn't even relieve myself without someone ruining the fantasy."

"What were you thinking about?" you ask, and the grin he gives you should frighten you...if you were anyone else.

"Oh dear...I was thinking of you dripping over my lap, high on my fear toxin as i delivered spank after spank over that pretty ass of yours."

You whimper at his words, just as he sinks two fingers inside your cunt. He crooks them, feeling your g spot and sighing at the familiar texture. "And about how delicious you'd look as I fucked you, so scared and brainless, clinging onto me for dear life."

He fingers you quickly, eager to prep you so he can be inside of you once again. He never used to be like this, so desperate for wanton physical contact. But you've changed him, wormed your way into his life and heart until he craves you, craves the reactions and noises you give him as you lie helplessly beneath him.

"A pity I used up all my toxin on the guards." he lies, in truth he has some left over in his overall pocket, but he keeps up the charade. "Oh what a lovely victim you always make."

He pulls his fingers out roughly, giving your swollen clit a nice spank for good measure before hastily stripping. You sit up to watch him, missing him just as much as he'd missed you. The dangerous man before you had been the subject of all of your salacious and desperate fantasies as you'd touched yourself the whole time he was in Arkham. Nobody was like him, nobody could give you the thrill that Jonathan could. And as he rubs his swollen cock along your folds, feeling the way you write, you know that you don't want anyone else.

He enters you, giving you the courtesy of going slowly as he deduces it'll have been a while since you've had something substantial filling you up like this. As he bottoms out with a guttural groan, your fingernails dig in to his shoulders, the pain delicious to Jonathan as he bucks his hips, driving his cock impossibly deep.

"Fuck...you minx." he mutters, starting to fuck you. Each thrust he ensures that he's reaching as far in as he can, wanting to feel every bit of you.

You moan softly with each thrust, telling him how much you missed him too, how lonely it's been without him. And each sentence has his heart-rate spiking in a way that feels dangerous. He never meant to form attachments, thinking it as weak, or a distraction from his work. But it's clear now more than ever that he can't let you go.

So he drives into you faster, burying his face in your neck and biting, leaving harsh hickeys all over your throat. "Mine...mine."

"All yours Jonathan."

He groans again at your words, feeling his dick throb with desire. He knows he won't last long, being apart from you for so long (and his age) meaning his stamina has taken a direct hit. But he savors the moment regardless, feeling you on your back beneath him, like you were meant to be.

"Not gonna last..." he warns, and you nod in understanding, locking your legs around him to ensure he cums inside.

With a couple more thrusts, he empties himself inside your cunt as it milks him for all he has. His moan is broken and desperate, but the relief is palpable in his tone as he relaxes. The tension in his shoulders seems to lift, as his breath heaves.

"I...really did miss you." he reiterates, somewhat annoyed at himself for feeling the need to tell you once again, but the soft look on your face makes it worth it...at least a little.

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Illumi Zoldyck General Profile

Yandere! Illumi Zoldyck x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, non-con, breaking and entering, slight somnophilia, misogynistic undertones, traditional gender roles, mentions of forced breeding/forced motherhood, murder, violence, lots of descriptions of killing methodologies, slight mentions of self induced wounds, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE:

Gentle

It takes Illumi a long time to develop feelings for his darling for a multitude of reasons.

Emotional unavailability, high expectations, and disinterest, just to name a few, and while he isn’t actively searching for a partner, there are a few base requirements he knows his future partner must meet.

Strong, intelligent, hard working, everything desirable that he knows both he and his family would approve of.

But once he meets his darling, his interest slightly peaked in them, that list begins changing slightly.

Because while the feelings are slow to solidify, Illumi notices quickly that his darling is so, so painfully averse to being harsh.

They’re not confrontational, treat others with a level of attentiveness and care that initially makes him scoff, and he doesn’t think he’s once seem them ever lose control of themselves and explode.

It’s uncanny, unnatural, as far as Illumi is concerned, and yet it’s fascinating. He slowly grows to admire this trait in his darling, how they can be so unconditionally soft with everything and everyone around them, eventually finding himself more and more attracted to them with every kind deed they do. It makes them weak, easy to manipulate, easy to kill, but Illumi finds it oddly endearing.

He’s always firmly believed that mothers should be nurturing to their children, to help them grow and shape them into the best versions of themselves possible, and while they’re opposite to his mother in many ways, maybe that gentility they possess is a the perfect thing needed.

Once he’s decided that his darling is his future wife, he’s immediately moving to experience this kindness for himself.

He comes back from missions with a little more blood and bruising than was necessary, but the way his darling gasps and quickly grabs the medical kit makes Illumi blink in wide fascination, unsure what drives them to eagerly spring into action but more than ready to feel their soft touch.

(They don’t need to know that Illumi allowed the target to get a few more hits in than necessary, just to keep them fawning over him as long as possible, or that he had to refuse ten different medical personnel in the mansion before making it to their shared ‘bedroom’.)

He likes the juxtaposition between his darling and him, and while it occasionally irritates him that they’re so soft and weak, it’s more endearing than anything else – just don’t be soft with anyone else but him, yes?

Smart

Illumi may be morally misguided, but the man is intelligent. He knows more about the human body than many doctors, and is skilled beyond belief in the art of combat and stealth.

He understands the best ways to go about gathering intel on a target without being traced or caught, and is able to apply that knowledge to set up traps correlating to his employers’ requests.

And this is a trait he’s simply unwilling to compromise when it comes to a partner – they must be able to keep up with him mentally.

They don’t need to have the same kind of intelligence as him, but the ability to critically think and quickly understand is a necessity. Illumi has very little patience for stupidity, and the thought of spending time with someone who doesn’t understand most of what he says is irritating.

And so, once his feelings for his darling begin appearing, Illumi is putting them through a small series of tests to make sure they live up to his expectations. It’s nothing too intense, nothing he wouldn’t be able to do himself.

He’s leaving extra clues that he’s been in his darling’s apartment – clumsy signs that he’d never normally leave, in the hopes that they’ll realize they’ve had an unwanted guest.

Cabinets are left ajar, their bed slightly unmade, though the thing that really clues them in is the presence of long, dark locks of hair around their apartment that they know aren’t theirs.

They’d never leave hair on the kitchen table; they’d see it and remove it, mildly disgusted. And yet, here three locks lay, making them a bit paranoid as they call the police.

Illumi intercepts the call, making sure it never rings through, but he’s still proud of his darling, satisfaction pooling in his chest because he just knew they’d pick up on it.

He likes knowing his darling is competent, and that their future children will be so too – the next Zoldyck heirs can’t be clueless, after all.

Generous

In general, Illumi isn’t particularly selfish with those he holds dear.

With the exception of Killua, Illumi has always willingly done as he’s been told.

He’s never demanded much from his parents, never insisting on material goods. He’s never felt cheated out of anything, either – his parents have molded him into the perfect assassin, and he couldn’t be more grateful for the rigor and training he received as a child.

And yet, once his darling enters his life, Illumi finds himself feeling strangely overwhelmed. They always seem to be giving things away – their time, bits of food they’ve cooked, their love, other things material and not alike.

It confuses Illumi; it makes him wonder why they’re wasting their resources on people they don’t know well, on those who likely wouldn’t reciprocate.

It’s a mystery, and frankly he finds his darling to be foolish for it – until one day it’s focused at him.

Illumi can’t comprehend why his darling is willingly giving away a bit of their time when they encounters him – in another body – disguised as a homeless man begging for change.

There’s a pitied look in their eye as they hand him the bills – two dollars, just what they had in change and could afford to give away – and tells him there’s a gas station nearby with cheap snacks he can eat.

Illumi just stares at them, not understanding why they’re helping, and soon he’s asking just that.

They startle and awkwardly laugh, telling him it’s because they don’t like seeing others in need, and they were only planning on spending that money to buy junk foods for themselves, anyways.

Illumi blinks, but his darling is soon speed walking away, the interaction feeling strange and uncomfortable.

Illumi still doesn’t understand, but it becomes another one of the facets of his darling that he simply learns to enjoy.

He yearns to understand what compels them to put others before themselves (something that yet again irritates him a bit), but he finds that the more he interacts with them, the more he enjoys being the recipient of it.

He’s finally receiving a bit of love and support that isn’t forced from his parents, and he quickly grows addicted.

Enjoys children 

The reality of the situation is that as Illumi’s darling, they will be forced to interact with children whether they want to or not.

Namely, their own.

Having a family with him is not optional, and Illumi will never present it as such – once he decides his darling is to be his partner, they automatically become his future wife, the future mother of his children.

He cannot be swayed, regardless of what his darling wants.

However, while it’s still possible for him to grow obsessed with a darling who isn’t especially fond of kids, it’s much more likely that he grows attracted to the ease with which they’re able to communicate with them.

He likes the way they get so happy when a child walks up to them, how they’re immediately squatting down and smiling, playing hide and seek with their own face as the child giggles and beams.

He never knew that sort of innocent and sweet interaction when he himself was a child, but he doesn’t view it as a bad thing if his darling is able to make a child happy.

It’ll only benefit them as parents – it’ll help strengthen the bond, and make their children more malleable and receptive to their guidance.

Besides, there’s something about seeing his darling next to a baby that makes his skin feel hot, eyes blowing wide and his trousers tightening.

The image just looks so right, so natural and perfect that Illumi has to hold himself back from bending them over and fucking them right then and there.

Talent with children is an incredibly attractive trait for Illumi, and likely it's the final nail in the coffin that seals his obsession with his darling – one giggling toddler is all that’s needed to seal their fate.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Stalker

More than anything, stalking you is the only method of ‘interaction’ with you that Illumi feels truly comfortable with.

He knows how to stay invisible; tracking others is easy, as is staying in the shadows and keeping that wide, unnaturally glassy stare on them. He’s used to watching but not being seen, and it’s only natural to extend this towards you. It feels right to be watching you, like he’s where he’s meant to be, and for the beginning of his obsession he spends every free moment stalking you, hiding in corners or shadows and just staring.

 (And really, this behavior lasts all throughout his infatuation, even when he’s got you trapped in the Zoldyck manor, even when you’re nursing his baby, even when you’ve both grown old and death approaches – it’s just that in the beginning, you’re not aware of the black eyes that follow your every move. And that’s a luxury that gets taken all too soon, as you find yourself longing for ignorance of Illumi in every possible way.)

Not to mention, there is no part of him that feels any guilt for it – he’s a cold-blooded assassin, of course, but at no point does it occur to him that it may be strange to be following you, or that you wouldn’t appreciate him watching over you (and watching you, generally).

He doesn’t understand that he shouldn’t approach you like he approaches a target – of course, you won’t be on the receiving end of his needles (at least, not with death his ultimate goal – perhaps something less lethal, like love or submission or lust), but otherwise his intentions are the same.

(Well, mostly – not really, actually, because Illumi doesn’t feel this strange, pleasant warmth in his chest when he’s watching his targets, nor does he feel particularly intrigued when he’s staring at them as they sleep, watching their chest rise and fall and the relaxed, utterly content expression on their face.)

The process of stalking you is remarkably similar to his jobs – first, he’ll choose a place within your home that gives him a good, solid vantage point with minimal risk that he’ll be noticed.

(Though, it’s not exactly hard to hide when you’re so damn oblivious – Illumi swears you have little to no awareness of your surroundings, if the way you sometimes knock into tables or trip over shoes in your doorway is anything to go by.)

His stand-by places are usually in a rarely used storage closet with the door cracked open, just wide enough for his dark eyes to peer through, or perhaps behind a chair you rarely use, crouched and peeking behind the cloth, and when you sit down in said chair, it gives Illumi the opportunity to stand up slightly, towering over you and getting a perfect view of your pretty body and smelling your hair.

But if it’s nighttime and you’re already snuggled up in your bed, eyes glued to your phone screen as you scroll and scroll and neglect your sleep, he'll stand silently and deathly still in the corner.

He’s able to stay perfectly still and maintain the same position for hours at a time, hardly blinking, hardly moving, hardly even breathing, it seems.

And he’s utilizing this skill set to its full potential when it comes to you – Illumi is greedy, and while this doesn’t initially get channeled into being overly possessive of you (though that certainly comes later), it instead translates into this insatiable need to constantly have his eyes on you and to be in your presence every moment he isn’t needed on a job.

There are no boundaries with him, because Illumi genuinely doesn’t see the need to have them. You’re already destined to spend your lives together, so why shouldn’t he start the process of learning more about you?

Autonomy doesn’t really exist with him – he could be considered clingy if his view of your lives being so irreversibly intertwined wasn’t as clinical and matter of fact.

And so Illumi doesn’t operate barred by any sort of moral guidelines – so when he’s using his needles to morph into another face so that he can practice the lines and compliments he’s been told by his mother that will make you swoon, it doesn’t register to him that it might be creepy that he’s practicing wooing you in another body.

(The man is disturbing, and you’re uncomfortable with the way this stranger doesn’t seem to be getting the hint that you want him to leave you alone; why is he standing so close to you? Why is he staring at you like that? Why is he following you?)

It doesn’t register to him that it’s a breach of trust to be pretending to be someone you love and trust, just to extract more information about you.

(Your cousin is acting strangely when they speak to you – their words are clipped and sound just slightly off, and you’re sure they already know what your dreams for the future are. You’ve talked about this with them before, so why are they questioning you on what your ideal house looks like, your ideal partner, your favorite baby names?)

He spends a lot of time observing you, collecting information on you in every way he can, and this doesn’t stop once you’re trapped by his side and with the rest of his crazy, horrible family – it’s a habit, more than anything, but it’s so much worse when you’re aware, when you can see and feel his dark eyes boring into you, making you squirm under the intensity of his gaze.

Of course, talking to him about it won’t do a single thing – only earning you a slight head tilt and a question of does it bother you when I watch you? I apologize, I only meant to keep an eye on you, my dear.

He genuinely doesn’t understand that stalking you and keeping a tab on you at all times is something that you very much don’t appreciate, but you’ll quickly come to learn that with Illumi, there’s only so much you can change – so much being quite literally nothing.

Controlling

This particular manifestation of his obsession with you is a culmination of many different things.

Firstly, it’s simply his personality – when he loves, he possesses, this ugly, carnal feeling stirring in his gut that pushes him to be in control, to guide and oversee every little thing the target of his love does. He’s always felt this way with Killua – he loves his brother immensely, but that love translates as being controlling and always keeping a finger on what Killua does, says, and feels.

Secondly, it’s the intense pressure coming from his family. Kikyo expects your total obedience both to her and her son, and while Illumi can sometimes stand up to his mother on matters where your safety and wellbeing are concerned, he can’t deny her expectations of you being absolutely subservient to him, bending to his every whim and allowing him to dictate every aspect of your life.

And finally, it’s his own paranoia that pushes him to micromanage you in every way possible. He’s never had someone to call his before – he’s unselfish in nature, dedicating himself to his family in every possible way, and now that he’s been given a woman to call his own, to spoil and love and keep by his side, he’s not entirely sure how to react.

Your presence soothes him in a way he’s never experienced before; you’re so soft and caring and warm, all things he’s never had. His life has been hardships and tough love, training and never being good enough, and now that you’re in the picture, Illumi isn’t entirely sure how to handle himself.

He doesn’t doubt himself, per se, but he’s unsure how to successfully navigate a marriage. Would you like it if he was more physical with you? Perhaps you’d like more hugs or for him to hold your hand or kiss you more often – that’s what all the popular media resources he’s looked into have told him.

Or maybe you’d prefer a more quiet, subtle kind of love, where you both support one another with meaningful looks and the occasional touch, whispered words that carry more weight than they seem.

He’s not sure, despite all the stalking and information retrieving he’s preformed in your name, and that makes him nervous. He doesn’t like that he can’t anticipate what you’ll want or how to make you happy – it makes him feel less-than, as if he’s not quite the perfect match that his mother and father have always said his wife will be.

He doesn’t like not being sure of himself, and so this worry manifests itself as becoming firmer in his treatment of you, locking down on the few things he’s absolutely sure of.

It comes off as controlling, sure, but Illumi doesn’t mean to be when he’s telling you what to wear, rifling through the closet he procured for you and pulling out a dress he thinks suits your complexion – you may hate it, but he likes it, so you’ll wear it.

He’s not trying to be controlling when he’s clicking his tongue lightly and telling you to keep your posture straight, dear every time you sit down, even if your shoulders are only barely, slightly slumped.

He’s not trying to be controlling when he’s standing over the bathtub and watching you wash yourself, telling you to use more soap, darling, don’t you want to be clean?

(Nevermind his dark eyes blinking slowly and getting stuck on the soapy outline of your breasts under the warm water – surely you’re just imagining that, along with the tent forming in his trousers.)

He’s not trying to be controlling when he’s roughly grabbing your hand and forcing you behind him when you’re walking through the hallways of the manor, his gaze narrowing at the butler standing at attention, paranoia eating away at him because he could have sworn the man was staring at you as you entered the room, and he can’t have that. Even as an employee of the family, no one but Illumi can look at you with any degree of desire – you are his, and if it means cleaning up a body and finding a new butler to replace him, Illumi will do what is needed to keep you his.

IIlumi is quite frankly totally unaware of his controlling behavior – he doesn’t realize anything is wrong because in his eyes nothing is wrong. This is love – it’s how his father always treated his mother when he was young, his eyes cold and his heart even colder, his words cutting her down and remolding her into a woman more fitting of being the matriarch of the Zoldycks.

And while he doesn’t want to break you down or remake you, he’s following his father’s example in making sure that you’re entirely accounted for. You’re his responsibility, and while he doesn’t view you as merely a pet, you’ll often feel like a glorified dog with the way he controls your life down to every second, always telling you that it’s time to go eat, or time to sleep, or time to shower, or time to kiss him and let him undress you.

He's pushy without even meaning to be, but if you bring this behavior up to him, he’ll be surprised. Genuinely – his brows will quirk up ever so slightly, his already wide eyes getting a hair wider because really? I had no idea, my dear. Thank you for bringing this to my attention; I will reduce the frequency on my instructions towards you.

But he doesn’t, even if he promises he will.

And it’s not entirely his fault – he thinks he is, even going so far as to be expectant of your praise when he holds himself back from telling you to use the other fork when he’s dining with you privately. Surely you must be proud of him – he’s doing as you asked, being a good husband and fulfilling your desires and wishes.

So why aren’t you praising him?

Why aren’t you mentioning anything about how generous he’s being, how considerate he is?

You’ve blatantly disregarded his attempts at trying to be less ‘controlling’, as you claim, and Illumi takes this as a sign to only double down and become more omnipresent, because obviously you haven’t quite learned how to be a kind, grateful, adoring wife.

You haven’t quite yet learned the lessons he’s been trying to teach you – so you need more guidance. You need more advice, a firmer hand to push you towards becoming the best, most noble version of yourself, and lucky, lucky you has a loving, oh so eager husband right there willing to step into that role.

He’s domineering and in control of every aspect of your life, but there’s almost a small sense of relief that you’ll eventually feel. Because really, while it makes you feel weak and pathetic and pitiful to have him controlling how long you brush your teeth every morning and night, isn’t there something kind of nice about relinquishing your responsibilities? Isn’t there something oddly nice about not having to make your own decisions, to let Illumi take care of everything, to not have to worry about anything ever again?

It's the Stockholm Syndrome talking, and you may even know it – but it doesn’t matter, because the longer you spend under Illumi’s thumb, the less you’ll find yourself caring about things like choice and autonomy and preference. All that matter is what he wants, what he thinks is best – because really, doesn’t he know best?

Isn’t he superior to you in every possible way?

Protective

Illumi has a very, very good understanding of the human body.

He has to – his job depends on it, after all, and Illumi is nothing if not dedicated to his work. He knows every muscle, vein, and bone, their purpose and exactly what it would mean if it was removed.

He knows what organs must stay in tact for survival, how much blood a person can lose and stay conscious, how cold temperature can drop before hypothermia begins, even how long a person can survive without sleeping.

And it’s this wide breadth of knowledge that leads Illumi to know just how pathetically weak you are.

There are so many possible ways to hurt you – everything from a gunshot to a paper cut could potentially end your tragically fragile life, and the longer Illumi watches you, the more uncomfortable this knowledge becomes.

It’s not that you’re objectively incapable of defending yourself – perhaps you know some basic self-defense, or perhaps your survival instincts are sharp enough to keep you away from dangerous situations. No – it’s more that Illumi knows what other people are capable of, what nen is capable of, and he knows that you’d simply be no match if someone were to attack you.

And so, this puts him into a rather uncomfortable spot; at the beginning of his obsession with you, when his feels were still freshly formed and underdeveloped, he felt no sense of protectiveness over you. You’re an adult, you can care for yourself – you’ve survived this long, haven’t you?

But then he starts noticing how wide your smile can get, or how soft your hand is when you’re sleeping, or how pretty your voice sounds when you’re singing in your kitchen and making yourself dinner.

He starts noticing that you’ve been biting your lip, the skin a little puffy and swollen and stinging a bit. Did you know that your lip could get infected, and if you don’t get to a doctor fast enough, that infection could cost you your life?

He starts noticing that the skin of your hands is a little dry, and you keep getting hangnails. Did you know that dry skin can be a sign of serious nutrition deficiencies, and if you don’t enough potassium you could end up in the hospital and slowly waste away until you eventually can no longer hold on?

He starts noticing that sometimes your voice gets a little hoarse after you try to sing a particularly high note, your voice cracking and a series of coughs racking your body. Did you know that if you cough too hard, you can actually strain your lungs and affect their ability to take in oxygen, potentially suffocating you?

Time passing brings him to the realization that the idea of you dying makes him frown, something unpleasant brewing in his chest that he guesses is sadness. He doesn’t like the idea of you passing away – he wants you alive, and if you were to die, he wouldn’t be able to watch you anymore, to feel that warm, addicting feeling in his heart you give him. If you were to suddenly keel over and die, he’d be left all alone – like normal, yes, but now that he knows what it's like to have someone, to want someone, Illumi doesn’t think he could return to his old existence.

And so, the solution is simple: keep you alive.

Except, it’s much harder to keep someone living and breathing than it is to simply kill them, and quickly Illumi is realizing just how tall an order this is. Because really, there’s just so much that could potentially injure you, that could potentially lead to your life being in danger.

You’re just so damn clumsy – he’s watched you trip over air, and if you’re that naturally unaware of your surroundings, who’s to say you wouldn’t be susceptible to even the most minor injuries? How can he be sure that you’ll manage to evade even the most innocent of accidents?

You won’t. He’s sure of it.

And so, he’s growing slightly paranoid because every new object you encounter is immediately a threat to him, five different ways that object could endanger you immediately flashing through his mind.

A pair of car keys? They’re dull and blunt, sure, but if they were thrust into your chest just right they could rupture something, cause you to bleed out, give you tetanus or metal poisoning.

A book you’re obsessing over? You could get a papercut, a slice across your pretty skin, and Kalluto has proven that paper can be incredibly deadly.

Your damn cell phone? Well, the screen is horrible for your eyes, your information could be sold and land in the hands of someone nefarious, and he knows you look at it while you’re walking on busy streets.

There’s just so many avenues for you to get hurt, and Illumi works himself to the bone to prevent any of them from successfully causing you harm. And he’s effective, too – you’ll find your knives have suddenly disappeared, your razors too, even any sort of pill you have that’s stronger than Ibuprofen.

All your outlets have suddenly stopped working, your ovens too, even your dishwasher.

Your shower doesn’t seem to be able to get as hot as it used to, and you don’t remember your pillows being as fluffy or numerous as they currently are.

You’ll know something is wrong, your anxiety shooting through the roof because someone must be robbing you, setting foot into your home and stealing all your things.

The reality is much more sinister, much more terrifying, and as soon as you wake up in Illumi’s hold, you’ll realize that your situation is much, much worse than you’d imagined.

He’s going to every length to keep you safe and sound from potential harm, even if it leaves you feeling pitiful and beyond ashamed, the babyproofed bathroom he lets you use making you ill when you see the way there’s locks on the cabinets to prevent you from rooting around for anything that could cause irreparable damage.

It’ll make you feel incompetent, embarrassed even when Illumi tries to comfort you by saying that he doesn’t think you’re incapable, just not entirely trustworthy, my dear. There’s a difference.

(His voice is always just slightly condescending when he talks to you, and this is surely no exception – it’ll make you feel worse, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care.)

Because really, all that matters to Illumi is making sure that you stay alive – he’s selfish, wanting to keep you solely to himself, and even if that means making sure you go nowhere unaccompanied, to nothing without his help, make no decisions by yourself, he doesn’t mind.

He’s doing it for you, for your shared love, for the good of your relationship.

And if you don’t seem to understand that for now, he’s sure someday you will. Someday you’ll realize the extent to which Illumi cares for you – why else would he do so very much for you, his devotion to you spanning long before he finally got to sink his claws (and cock) into you?

So really, shouldn’t you be grateful?

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Jealousy is very much not something Illumi has ever really had to deal with.

His whole life has been training, killing, devotion to his family and the Zoldyck name, and as an assassin he’s never really been envious of anyone, or really had strong enough feelings about anything to want something.

It’s a concept he understands in theory but begins questioning it when it comes to the way it makes people crazy, the way people act so strangely in circumstances where envy and jealousy are concerned. It seems entirely stupid, something that only serves to derail situations.

And yet, once a strange nagging feeling begins at the edges of his mind, Illumi finds himself wondering if this is the famous jealousy he’s always heard of.

It doesn’t feel good – it’s like there’s something pulling at his heart, a hand wrapped around it and squeezing every so often, the feeling almost painful and certainly irritating.

But the more he’s around you, the more it persists – almost seeming to grow by the day, even if you’re fully alone, in your apartment reading a book or scrolling through your phone. Illumi very suddenly understands why jealousy is known as something so horrible, something that eats you up inside and won’t leave you alone – that is, Illumi quickly begins noticing that he isn’t the only man vying for your attention and love.

Because he’s constantly watching you, following you and making sure that he knows everything there is to know about your life and relationships with others, he doesn’t miss the situations where you interact with another man, where you smile and laugh and even compliment other men, all right in front of him.

(Illumi tends to conveniently disregard the fact that you aren’t able to sense him, that you aren’t aware that you have a dangerous, murderous stalker trailing your every move.)

It’s irritating, frustrating, distracting enough to be seriously affecting his work – he’ll have a fleeting thought of the way you’d smiled at that other man a week ago as he goes for the final stab into the target’s chest, but the slight snarl he lets out has him missing just slightly, instead nicking the target in the shoulder and giving them an opportunity to scramble away.

Illumi’s irritation only increases at that, and soon there’s blood splattered along the floor as he breaths deeply, the red staining his clothing standing out bright.

He really tried to ignore it at first, but once it began affecting him even when he’s not in your presence, Illumi knew he had to solve the problem. And after a quick, rather detached conversation with his father about it, Illumi was quickly enlightened that he was in fact jealous, his father having laughed lightly and patting him on the arm, telling him that it’s natural to feel that way about your wife, Illumi. Your duty is as an assassin, but as a member of this family. If the woman you’ve chosen to bear your heir is giving you such feelings, I see no harm in acting upon them. It will serve you well to focus more on your work, as well.

And so Illumi embraces this newfound permission to foster this emotion - it’s odd, the way what he’s fairly confident is anger coils around his heart, making his fists clench slightly, his nails digging into his palms as he watches you talk and laugh with that man. That man, who probably doesn’t even know how to use nen, who probably doesn’t even understand how perfect of a wife you could be, how good of a mother and perfect addition to his family you’d be.

It’s strange, and while Illumi doesn’t particularly enjoy it, he can’t deny the odd sense of finality that comes with killing without being paid to, the strange sensation of enjoying ending a life. He finds himself smiling after plunging his nails into a man’s jugular, but Illumi isn’t too horribly bothered.

It’s new and strange, but so is everything else you make Illumi experience, after all. Why should this be any different?

As he trails behind you in the shadows, his dark eyes train in on your figure as you bite your lip and look over the selection of fruit displayed out on the cart of the farmer’s market.

Illumi stays perfectly still, completely focused on watching you. You’re wearing a pair of jeans today, pants that hug your figure a little too tightly for his tastes, along with a sweatshirt that does quite the opposite – hiding your upper body, which Illumi only finds slightly more agreeable.

(In the back of his mind, he makes a mental note to have a talk with you about proper dress for a woman such as yourself – a woman who’s to become part of a powerful, wealthy family, and as such must represent them - and her husband - with her head held high and confidence oozing from her. He’s sure a nice skirt and blouse will do the trick – silky or satin, shimmery and soft like you. Or, perhaps, a dress – maybe a floral pattern or a deep magenta. Of course, you’ll eventually be wearing purple, the Zoldyck family color, but he knows women enjoy fashion, and he's interested to see what you’d pick.)

As he thinks through what he’ll say to you, already planning out how the conversation will go, he notices a man with shaggy brown hair and honey brown eyes take a deep breath and walk beside you, standing next to you and looking over the selection of apples, pears, oranges and various other fruits.

Illumi’s expression makes no change as the brunette says something about how there’s always too many options at markets like these, types of fruit that he’s never heard of making it difficult to choose, to which you laugh and full heartedly agree.

The assassin makes no move, but as he watches and listens with distaste lodged in the back of his throat, you continue on the conversation, asking the man’s advice on which type of apple you should get.

It’s a short interaction, in all honesty - maybe a minute maximum, but Illumi is still watching with a heavy, piercing gaze, feeling the same odd, sickly feeling rise up from his chest.

He’s already decided that if the man moves to lay even a finger on you he’ll emerge from the shadows, swiftly and triumphantly piercing his chest with his entire hand.

Maybe that’ll get him to stop talking.

But the man doesn’t, and so Illumi begrudgingly lets the conversation run its course. You eventually say goodbye to the man and ask him if he’d like to meet up at the same booth in a week to compare the types of fruit.

Immediately Illumi’s fist clenches, his nails sharpening and digging into his palms, drops of blood littering the pavement below him as his eyes never stray, keeping trained on you as you walk in the opposite direction of the man, who is now blushing and smiling like a fool.

Disgusting, Illumi thinks as he follows the man.

The world won’t miss him, is all he’s thinking as he pulls a pin and flicks his wrist, the needle sinking into his neck. He watches with a dull gaze as the fast acting poison renders the man immobile, falling to his knees as his chest slows its breaths, eventually no longer moving.

You most certainly won’t, he thinks as he picks up the body, unsheathing the needle after life has left the body, finding a nearby trash bin to stuff the man into.

It isn’t the most efficient method of dealing with a body, but Illumi can’t be bothered – after all, in the some thirty seconds it’s taken him to deal with the man who thought he had a chance with what Illumi has already claimed as his, you’ve managed to make it a bit further from him, wandering through the maze of stalls with the bag full of produce in your hands.

He’s immediately falling into step behind you, the flexing of his fingers doing nothing to distract him as he brings back his stare, internally sighing as he sees another man – this time blond – look over at you and not so subtly rake his eyes up and down your body.

Illumi’s brow twitches – he only brought twenty needles this morning, and you’ve only been at the market for some fifteen minutes. Already he only has three left, and with a small sigh he reminds himself to bring more tomorrow, as he’ll surely use them.

And really, while Illumi doesn’t enjoy that other men are looking at you, being deluded enough to believe that they have a chance with you, he needs to make sure that there are no complications with your union, that there will be no problems to take care of when he eventually whirls you away to his home, where you’ll be his lovely wife that provides him with children and a warmth he can’t explain.

There’s a certain thrill that comes with letting himself feel, with not pushing down the emotion as his father said – a certain thrill that he can only feel where you’re concerned.

After all, you’re just that special.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

From the moment Illumi decides that you’re a good match for him, it becomes a known fact (at least, among his family) that you would eventually be living alongside him in the Zoldyck manor.

You don’t have a choice, really – all of his family lives together on the mountain, and you will be no exception, despite your temporary status as an honorary member.

(This status is temporary if only because now you aren’t an official Zoldyck, but the moment you become pregnant with his child, this status changes – you’re a real Zoldyck then, because inside you grows the family’s next assassin, a product of Illumi’s devotion to you and proof of your resolve to commit yourself to the Zoldycks. It’s all terribly romantic to Illumi, even if it makes you want to hurl, and he’ll have no qualms telling you this information – he’ll even frame it as if it’s some sort of incentive to get you eagerly spreading your legs for him. He treats it like you want to be accepted into the family – like it’s your deepest desire, and no amount of arguing or pleading with him will convince him otherwise.)

You will be sharing a bed with him, living under the same roof and spending all your time beside him when he’s not away for a job, whether you like it or not, and Illumi has known this from the very beginning. You’ll be curled up in his arms, his skin cold and slightly clammy as he holds you, his grip much too tight and stiff even as he sleeps – you can hardly move, every breath you take feeling constricted and controlled, as if Illumi is doing you a favor by allowing you just a bit of space to breathe.

It takes him a while to fully develop and understand what his feelings mean, but once he does he isn’t holding back in any form - his family was, for lack of a better word, floored the night that their eldest son casually mentioned having selected his future wife. Kikyo was immediately pressing him for details, wanting to know every fact and scrap of information about her future daughter in law, which Illumi was happy to provide.

He immediately spouted off your name, age, basic personality, physical features, hobbies, interests, important life events, past and current jobs, relationships with your parents, friends, partners, anything and everything he can think of, Kikyo listening all the while with a scowl on her face. She’s confused on why her precious son has chosen you, considering you weren’t a skilled nen user, a fighter or even someone of great importance.

She’s not completely convinced of her son’s choice, but there’s a strange determination to Illumi’s normally lifeless eyes that she can see that makes her back off a bit, leaving her with an odd sense of finality in his words, confidence in his decision that makes it hard to argue.

(Besides, everyone knows Killua is the true heir of the family – as long as Illumi produces members to join the Zoldyck ranks, it’s not so important who chooses to wed. As long as they’re suitable for conception, she’ll begrudgingly accept – perhaps not with enthusiasm, but she’ll relent nonetheless.)

Silva is listening as well, though not as intensely as his wife, and after Illumi finishes his some twenty minute recall of your information, he merely takes a sip of his drink and nods, telling his son to treat her with care, she sounds weak in comparison to you.

Milluki is rolling his eyes, wondering why his brother decided on someone so normal, though he doesn’t dare say anything. Internally, though, he’s already imagining what you look like, his mental picture of you built upon Illumi’s descriptions, but with just a bit more detail – things his brother hadn’t mentioned, like the size of your chest or if you’re clumsy or if your voice is high and feminine and whiny.

Kalluto only nods, wondering what you’ll be like in person if you’ve managed to catch his older brother’s eye.

His mother is still disappointed in his choice, but wastes no time helping Illumi prepare for your eventual arrival, helping him create a regiment for how to integrate you into the family, how to work with your needs, considering your status as a mere commoner.

And while Illumi lets his mother plan and schedule and bustle about, he’s merely thinking of how he should take you away, tuning out his mother’s shrill words as she yells and commands butlers, telling them to prepare and clean and do everything so that Illumi’s new wife will be received well.

In all reality, Illumi – while very much concerned with his family’s acceptance of you, considering the tightness and loyalty instilled into him – isn’t especially concerned about the plans his mother is running wild preparing. He knows that with enough time and training, you’ll eventually fit right into the mold his mother wants you to, or at least as far into it as Illumi is allowing.

Because really, while he agrees that you need to be toughened up at least a little bit in order to survive in the mansion and be strong enough to bear his children, he doesn’t want your core personality to change – he fell in love with you for a reason, and while you must be trained a bit to survive as a Zoldyck, he doesn’t want you to become a stranger.

And so instead of listening to his mother’s plans, he’s slipping out under the cover of nightfall and climbing through the familiar window of your bedroom, your sleeping form laying so still and peaceful, like you’re just waiting for him to come steal you away.

A pin (as much as he hates piercing your skin with the needle, it must be done) is applied to your shoulder and your sleep is suddenly much heavier, your body visibly going limp, your breaths getting longer and deeper, and for a moment he worries that he’s infused too much nen into the needle, that your breathing will just keep slowing until it eventually stops.

His grip against his spare needles tightens at the thought, the force so strong that it snaps the metal in half, the sound knocking him from his thoughts as he blinks down at you, a small sense of relief filling him because your chest is still steadily rising and falling.

Illumi carries you in his arms back to the manor, not minding the weight of your body holding him down.

And just as he passes through the gates, he feels what he thinks might be excitement brewing in his chest.

Life with Illumi will be, in all honesty, hell.

It’s not so much that he enjoys making you miserable or seeing you uncomfortable, but rather that he’s grown up with such intense expectations, such strict regimes and schedules that he upholds you to similar standards.

Of course, you won’t be going through training to become an assassin while you’re with him – no practice with combat or anything so violent, if only because Illumi’s worry over your safety prohibits him from allowing you anywhere near a knife or a fist cocked and ready to be swung.

(Not to mention the fact that he plans on you going absolutely nowhere without him, and as such there’s no reason for you to learn how to defend yourself. You don’t need to build up immunity to poison, how to most effectively snap a neck, or to learn any number of the cruel things that he thinks are much too unwomanly for someone like you.)

No, the schedule and timetables he puts you on are much more general, humiliating, dehumanizing – being told when you can and can’t use the restroom is something you’ll quickly come to realize takes away even the barest scrap of dignity and independence you have left under Illumi’s control.

He dictates what time you wake up, what you eat for each meal of the day, and your activities between meals - comprised mostly of more feminine things, as his mother advised you learn, like sewing and mending, floral arrangement, proper dining etiquette, and of course, lessons on how to properly raise children, taught by Kikyo herself.

(From the get go, it will be extremely apparent to you that the entirety of the Zoldyck family – Illumi included – expect offspring, assuming with little thought that you’ll be bearing the eldest son’s children in what Silva has expressed as sooner than you think with a small nod and poignant stare. Shivers had run down your spine at the way Illumi’s gaze on you seemed to only grow in intensity at his father’s comment, his cold fingers pressing against the small of your back in a way that made your skin crawl. Besides, the built in conception time, as Illumi so lovingly puts it, makes it more than obvious that he’s fucking you with the intent of getting you pregnant.)

It’s demeaning, the way you’re treated like some toddler, some incompetent idiot with the way Kikyo flutters around you, her shrill voice echoing through the corridors as you cower and obey.

It isn’t that you want to be obedient to a family you’ve come to realize is beyond fucked up, but you’ve also seen Illumi at work. He’s come home to you covered in blood, giving you a small smile as he awkwardly leans down to press a chaste kiss against your lips, his dark eyes staying open the whole time.

You don’t particularly want to be the submissive, obedient future mother of Illumi’s children like everyone in the manor is expecting you to be (with the exception of Killua, whom Illumi desperately wants you to get along with, and he may honestly be the only ray of light within this dark, musty home – at least he somewhat understands how fucked up the situation is, though he’s told you many times that there’s nothing he can do to help you).

But the constant threat of the fact that anyone in the house could kill you with a simple flick of the wrist is not lost on you, and while Illumi genuinely terrifies you for much of the first few months of your captivity, you quickly learn to obey his every word, to live to please him.

He’s really the only ally you have – he’s more forgiving, easier to try and wiggle your way out of a less severe punishment with, especially as you learn to predict his wishes.

He wants you to wear a certain kimono that he thinks looks beautiful on you? You hate the pattern on it and the way the style makes your figure look, but you scramble to slide into the fabric, trying to ignore his ever present stare boring into your naked body.

He wants you to come play with his hair, because he’s been told by his father that it feels nice and he’s seen couples do it? immediately you’re clambering to sit on the chair behind his seated position on the floor, running your fingers through his dark locks while he sits stick straight, silence enveloping the two of you.

He wants you to lay beside him while he rests, recovering his energy from a recent mission? You’re already slipping underneath the sheets, clearing a space for him and letting him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you against him.

(He’s so stiff even when he ‘cuddles’ you – his skin is so cold, his back straight, his grip on you tight enough to make you squirm, and the hot breath against your neck when he tells you that he’s missed you, my dear, my day is less bright without your presence will make you wince.)

Some of his wishes are, admittedly, much more difficult to obey than others, however – when he tells you to lay back and spread your legs while he’s shimmying off his pants, it’s difficult to not fight, to not cry and scream as he pushes into you, his eyebrows twitching together and his pale fists clenching by your head as he slowly begins humping into you.

He isn’t necessarily bad to you per se, though quickly his family picks up on his cluelessness on how to truly treat a spouse, and so after a few comments from Silva about how to properly woo you (maybe she will be less unruly, and you may have more luck producing children this way as well) he actually does take his advice and try to make at least some attempt at romancing you.

He’s telling you robotically delivered compliments, buying you bouquets of roses, even rewarding your good behavior with small knick knacks from your old apartment and life – but it’s not enough; the fear of him is still far greater than the almost charming awkwardness he exudes in moments of intimacy and tenderness will ever be.

You’ll essentially become a submissive, sweet little housewife under Illumi’s care, and even if you hate it, even if you try with everything you have to not be subjected to the future of bearing his children, holding the famous last name of Zoldyck, and being completely subservient to the man who kidnapped you and forcefully began a ‘relationship’ with you, Illumi and the rest of his family have ways of making sure you stay in line.

And before long, you’ll grow to accept your place, to realize that there is absolutely nothing you can do.

PUNISHMENTS:

In all honesty, Illumi rarely gets actually mad at you – he’s much more frequently disappointed when you don’t behave correctly, when you fight him or make some weak attempt at escaping.

He doesn’t get mad, but there is this small sense of pity that he feels when he watches you cry and beg him to not come any closer, to please let me go, I promise I won’t tell anyone what happened! Please, I don’t want to be with you or your sick family!

It hurts, if he’s being honest, but he knows that in order to train you, to mold you into the perfect spouse and future mother of his children, he needs to be patient.

Dogs can’t be expected to follow commands from the very beginning, right?

And so, when he kneels down to where you’re curled up in the corner of your shared room, his dark hair hanging around you like a curtain while his wide eyes never blink and stay situated on you, he’s merely tilting his head and asking in a voice much too serious to be natural, oh but darling, can’t you see you’re already part of this family? Now, dinner is to be ready in thirty minutes. I need to properly prepare you.

He actually has a surprising amount of patience with you – you make him soft (or at least as soft as he can be, though anyone that knows him well can spot the differences in his treatment and air around you), and he doesn’t really want to harm you or scare you.

It’s a necessary evil in his eyes, though if he had his way, he’d train you to the point where you’re willingly looking at him with love.

He’d train you until you’re welcoming him home with a sweet kiss to his cheek after a long job with a toddler clutching at your legs, a baby suckling at your breast and a swollen belly telling him and the rest of the world exactly who you belong to, your lovesick cry of his name when you see him making the smile plastered onto his lips that much more genuine.

You make him feel, something so foreign and strange, and to Illumi this new, small amount of emotion feels downright overwhelming, something so strong and powerful and wonderful. It’s addicting, truly, something that he finds himself actively wanting, a concept he’s never felt before towards anything except bringing back Killua.

And so while he doesn’t particularly enjoy punishing you, it’s worth it to keep those feelings alive, to build up to the point where his fantasies of your domestic future with one another come to fruition.

So really, while he doesn’t get mad at you very often, he won’t hesitate to dole out punishments where he sees fit – it’s all for a greater purpose, he tells you, though you have your doubts.

Besides, there’s something even more disturbing about him punishing you when he isn’t even angry – it’s worse because it all just seems so pointless; maybe if he was yelling you would understand why he’s doing what he’s doing. He’d seem human, maybe, capable of emotion – instead, you get those familiar, dead eyes staring at you, his expression carefully neutral as he tells you that this is for your own sake, my dear, and one day you’ll see that.

When it comes to actually punishing you, Illumi’s aversion to causing you any sort of physical harm prevents him from inflicting a whole varietyof punishments onto you – he doesn’t want to taint your delicate skin, to break a bone, to do any number of things that he’s been told over and over by his family would help.

(Milluki insists that breaking both of your legs would be a good way to prevent any kind of behavior targeted around trying to escape, and while Illumi understands the logic and even agrees with it, the look of your teary eyes staring up at him and your desperate pleads to not hurt you are simply too much.)

(Milluki also suggests, with a crude grin and a gulp, that perhaps letting him try a hand at getting you to cooperate would be helpful – besides, he’ll add with a smarmy smile and his tongue flicking out over his lips, a Zoldyck heir is a Zoldyck heir, doesn’t matter who knocked her up, right? That night, Milluki ended up with the broken bone rather than you.)

He isn’t sure why he’s so incapable of hurting you considering his profession, but he just can’t – and so, he finds other methods.

Namely, your mental state is completely fair game; he’s training you after all, and when the basement of the Zoldyck mansion is just so expansive, so cold and wet and so very dark, how can he not use that to his advantage?

Your eyes are casted downwards, your voice soft and unsure as you ask if you can see my family again? Kikyo mentioned that it’s December, and there’s an important birthday in the family this month that I’d like to celebrate with them…

Illumi had been cuddling you (or, at least holding you in his arms while he lay on his side, completely frozen and inhaling the scent of your hair again and again while you uncomfortably squirmed around), but the moment those words tumble from your lips, he’s blinking pensively, pondering your statement.

I don’t know of any birthdays in the family this month.

When you try again, telling him that it’s your family you’re talking about, the one you were raised in and that you love, immediately he’s cutting you off.

My dear, you must be mistaken. The nearest birthday is Grandfather’s, and that isn’t for another month.

His voice is firmer this time, as if he’s trying to tell you something, but some part of you refuses to silently accept his blatant dismissal of your request.

Illumi you don’t understand, it’s –

his grip is tightening even more, practically suffocating you as his nails dig into your exposed arms, his voice somewhere between a hiss and a scold.

No, my love, you don’t understand. Don’t speak of them. They are no longer your family – you are a Zoldyck now, and you’ll forget all of those past imposters. You will not, under any circumstances, be allowed to see them again. Now, come with me.

And it’s not like you have much of a choice – as he picks you up and brings you down the stairs, endless winding hallways that steadily grow colder and colder the deeper you head, you’re flailing, apologizing profusely, anything to not have to spend another few nights in the basement.

And while Illumi doesn’t enjoy the tears that stream down your cheeks, he stays strong and ties you to the chains connected to the walls – loose enough that you can be seated on the ground, but tight enough to restrict any movement.

Once you’re stationary, he stands before you and stares, the light from the door behind him illuminating his figure.

I expect you to tell me who your real family is when I return.

And with that, he’s walking out the room and slamming the door shut behind him, leaving you shrouded in darkness, with nothing but the sound of your own breathing and heartbeat to entertain you.

He generally leaves you down there for three days, give or take – enough to have you dehydrated, your stomach growling and rumbling painfully at the lack of food, cold seeping into your bones and leaving you shivering and shaking, all the while fear envelopes you because there’s something here with you, you just know it.

The sounds coming from the corner of the room are too difficult to ignore, though you have no idea what it could be. You presume it’s some sort of creature, designed to kill you if Illumi so desires, the scuttling noise making fear creep up your spine every time you hear it. The sounds are ryhtmic, predictable, always going off in roughly thirty minute intervals, leading you to believe the creature is smart, or at least trained to be so.

It’s terrifying and your mind will conjure up images of terrifying, grotesque beasts in its bored and fearful state, but in reality the monster in question is Illumi himself – he grows so dependent on you that he can’t be away from you for more than about a day, so he treats himself to hiding in the shadows and simply watching you.

You’re very pretty, even when you’re crying and covered in dirt and covered in your own piss, and it’s in those moments that Illumi truly realizes how deeply his feelings for you run, how badly he wants you to be his everything. He just can’t stop looking at you, those dark eyes raking over your figure over and over and over, moving his position roughly every thirty minutes to get a new angle of you.

(Though, it’s not like he needs to see you to remember what you look like from this angle, he’s stalked you so thoroughly and so heavily that he could draw your face in his sleep with pinpoint accuracy, your features metaphorically carved behind his eyelids so that he’ll always see you you you when he blinks.)

And when he eventually opens the door once more, light cracking into the room and making you violently blink, he’s asking if you’ve learned your lesson yet, if you’re finally understanding who your real family is, and immediately you’re practically yelling that yes, I understand! I’m a Zoldyck, the Zoldycks are my real family! I love them and I love you, Illumi, because I’m your wife and that’s all I’ve ever wanted to be!

(If you were in a better state of mind you’d have the energy to be ashamed of yourself, but you’re so desperate to get out of this cellar and into the warmth, to drink something and eat something and be away from the thing trapped in there with you that you just don’t care.)

He nods, satisfied, and opens the locks, only to blink in surprise when you wobbly embrace him, sobbing into his chest and clutching onto his clothes because even though he’s unnaturally cold, he’s still warmer than the hell you’ve been in for the last three days.

And while he’s not the best at physical affection, he’ll wrap his arms around you and pull you tighter, crushing you against his hard chest whispering in your ear that he’s so glad you’ve finally accepted your place.

OVERALL DANGER:

9/10

The danger that lies with being Illumi’s darling is honestly just the fact that once he chooses you, there is absolutely no chance of escaping him.

He’s a trained assassin with connections everywhere; outside of death itself, there’s no way for you to get away from him, no matter how hard you try or who you manage to recruit into aiding you.

(And even if you were to somehow manage to kill yourself, Illumi will keep your dead body by his side – holding it at night while he sleeps, propping you in a chair across from him while he eats and carries on a one sided conversation about work that day, even going so far as to fuck your cold, lifeless body just to feel you.)

He’s lived his whole life feeling nothing at all, and the second that you inspire any bit of emotion within him, his whole perspective seems to alter just slightly, something warm and strange and good blooming in his chest. It’s something completely foreign, but the longer it goes on the more he decides the likes it, growing used to the feeling and craving more of it, finding himself yearning – yes, yearning – to feel it once more when he’s been away from you for long periods of time.

Once he realizes that the common cause of this feeling is you, Illumi is deciding that you’re the one he’ll be adding to the Zoldyck family as his partner, his spouse, his lover.

You’ll be the one to bear his children and continue on the name, all while he gets to enjoy the strange warmth in his chest, the odd protectiveness that forces him to keep you locked up, safe from the outside world, the strange urge he feels to reach out and touch you, to see you smile, to feel your lips against his own.

And so while he won’t ever directly physically harm you, your mental state will be destroyed, and you’ll be in constant fear that someday he’ll decide you aren’t worth the trouble, that once he impregnates you and you give him a few heirs, he’ll kill you off effortlessly.

These fears will never, ever see fruition of course, but the trouble with Illumi is that you just never know.

He’s skilled in the art of killing, but his skills in lying are quite formidable as well – you can never truly tell when he’s being honest with you, and while he’s never fully lied to you (only misrepresented facts and led you to believe something that may not be entirely true), you’ll live in a constant state of unease because you’re so, so very aware that he could kill you with a mere flick of his wrist if he so desired, and what’s stopping him? He claims to be in love, but in what world is this love?

And you, lucky lucky you, get the lovely package deal of not only him, but his fucked up family as well – so good luck, and really, just let him mold you into the perfect, obedient little wife he wants you to be.

You’ll be much, much happier in the end.

[sissylittlefeather]

Kinktober Day 5: Orgasm Control

Tease

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, cussing, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), mention of squirting, teasing, public play

Word count: ~1.5k

Kinktober Masterlist

Elvis catches your eye across the party and winks. You should roll your eyes, but you can't. Instead you blush and look down at your drink. He wore that damn leather outfit without a shirt underneath it even when you'd begged him not to. He'd originally had a shirt under it, but you had ruined it when he threw you on the bed and licked your pussy until you squirted all over him. You apologized profusely, but he just laughed and pulled it off, putting the jacket back on and zipping it a couple of inches.

"Baby, no, you have to wear a shirt. Or at least zip it."

"Why?" He looked at you mischievously. "This gonna drive you crazy?"

"You know it will! The black leather was bad enough!" He just laughed and slapped your ass.

You know he loves to torture you like this, especially when you're out and about and desperately need to keep your cool. Tonight you're at an after party for his opening show in Vegas and you suspect he's just getting started. You watch as he tries to refocus on his conversation, but a few seconds later, he excuses himself and walks over to you.

"You alright, honey?" You look up at him not amused.

"No. You know exactly what you're doing."

"Awww, hon, I ain't doin' shit. Yet." He grabs your hand and drags you out of the party to the bathroom just down the hall.

"Elvis? What are you-?"

"Take your panties off."

"What?"

"You gonna argue with me?" He gives you a stern look and you know better than to say no. That'll just make it worse. You shimmy out of your panties and let them hit the top of your shoes. He bends over and picks up each foot, pocketing your panties. Then, he starts pressing soft kisses to your thighs and you realize where this is going.

"Elvis, I've already cum three times tonight. You think you're gonna-OH." He's spread your thighs and has his tongue shoved inside you. You whimper as he pushes it in and out and then moves up to your clit. It's still a little swollen and sensitive from your activity before the party, but he doesn't care. He goes to work licking over and around your hardened bud and you start to sweat. "Elvisssss"

You feel him smile as you hiss and start to lose control. Yet another orgasm starts to gather in your hips and just before you cum, he pulls back and stands up, rearranging your skirt.

"What? Why?"

"Oh, I'm not anywhere near finished with you tonight." Your pussy clenches around nothing and you almost slap him.

"I'm gonna kill you."

"Not before you cum, you won't." He smirks and pats your ass. "Let's get back out there."

You groan loudly and follow him out of the bathroom and back to the party, hoping your arousal doesn't run down your leg since he's stolen your panties. He gets you another drink and then starts to move about the room talking to people. You try to focus on talking to people, but your clit is positively throbbing from being so close to an orgasm. Finally, you start to calm down a bit, but it's like he can sense it. He shows up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. You can feel where he's got his erection tucked up under the waistband of his leather pants and start to get wet again. He whispers in your ear.

"You're dying for daddy to fuck you, aren't you little one?" Your breathing picks up and he lets out a small laugh. "My girl is so bad."

He leads you over to a chair and then sits down, pulling you into his lap. You're not sure how he manages it, but he gets his hand up between your thighs without anyone noticing. Or if they notice, they don't act like it. He starts to move his thumb over your pulsing clit and growls in your ear again.

"Oh, baby, this pussy is so needy." He slides his long middle finger inside you and you have to work to contain the yelp of pleasure that threatens to escape. You whisper through gritted teeth.

"You're really gonna do this now?"

"You belong to me, honey. I'll do whatever I want, whenever I want. You really complainin'?" He leans in and kisses your neck as he continues to finger-fuck you under your skirt.

"No." It comes out as a half-moan. He feels your walls start to flutter around him as your climax approaches and pulls his hand back quickly. You turn and look at him with a shocked look on your face, nostrils flaring as you try to control your breathing.

"What? I need to talk to more people." He pats your bottom to indicate that you should get up and you almost scream at him, but you know you can't. You stumble to your feet and press your thighs together to keep from dripping. "I'll be back, baby."

He walks away from you and goes back to chatting with the other guests. You try to make small talk, but your pussy is aching for him and you start to consider going to the bathroom and finishing yourself. When you decide you can't stand it anymore, you excuse yourself and head towards the door. Of course he notices.

"Where ya goin' honey?" You get out to the hallway and turn to him.

"I'm going to finish what you started before I drip on the floor."

"Aw, doll, you know I can't let you do that."

"You're not the boss of me!" You shriek at him frantically. He laughs and walks towards you until your back is pressed up against the wall.

"Oh, but I think I am."

"Daddy, please, I gotta cum or I might die."

"You're not gonna die, little one." He gently kisses your lips and then your neck and collarbone. He grinds his hips against you, pressing his dick against your center. You moan loudly, almost completely losing control. His hand trails up your thigh, grazing your clit lightly.

"Fuck!" You whimper. He grins against your skin and nips you with his teeth.

"Does my baby wanna cum?"

"Yes, daddy, please." His fingertips find your clit and he rubs over it hard.

"Oh, God." You hold onto his shoulders as he flicks your button and you're damn near there when the door opens and Charlie pokes his head out. You groan loudly as he pulls his hand back again.

"Boss, the camera guys are looking for you." Charlie realizes what is happening and clears his throat awkwardly. "Fuck, I'm sorry, boss."

"She's the one you need to apologize to." You glare at Charlie.

"Sorry, y/n. They just told me to come get him." Elvis kisses your forehead.

"I'll be back, honey. Don't touch yourself. I will not be pleased." He looks at you sternly again and you nod reluctantly. You take his hand and let him lead you back into the party once more.

Another 20 minutes pass as he walks around the party. This time he keeps glancing at you, though, and you can tell he's eager to get back to you and let you finish. You make eye contact across the room and bite your bottom lip, rubbing your thighs together. He notices what you're doing and inhales sharply, excusing himself from the conversation.

You don't even wait for him, you just head to the bathroom. In the hallway, though, he grabs you and directs you towards the elevator. The doors slide open and he pushes you into the small car, barely waiting for the doors to close before he's on his knees with his tongue in your pussy. He grabs your thigh and puts it on his shoulder to give him better access and licks you like his life depends on it. You're so turned on from all his teasing that you cum within seconds, one hand tangled in his hair as you moan and cuss loudly. He tongues you through your orgasm and then pulls back, leaning his forehead against your abdomen.

"Is the party over?" You ask tentatively. You've got what you wanted, so now you can think about other things. He looks up at you from where he's on his knees.

"It is for me, baby. If I don't fuck you soon, I might die." You cup his cheek with your hand.

"You won't die, baby."

"Oh, don't you dare be like that." He stands up and grabs the back of your hair, kissing you deeply.

"Like what?" You look up at him innocently. The elevator doors slide open and he doesn't even think. He throws you over his shoulder and carries you into his suite. You giggle and squeal and he slaps your ass.

"You're gonna let daddy fuck you, little one." He grunts.

"We'll see." You say, teasingly.

But you know you will. You always do. And it's worth it every time.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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