#the horror of devotion will always be special to me

[bl-inkstone]

mini ramble in the tags! i haven't been here in a hot min haha

[cipheramnesia]

What Your Horror Franchise Crush Says About You:

Jason Voorhees: Unabashed thick boy appreciator, you like em curvy and savor the finer himbos in life. Your man did nothing wrong and you can fix him (positive). Disabilities advocate.

Michael Meyers: Someone has to appreciate a generic white boy and that's you. No shame in being indecisive, but everyone thinks you have terrible taste in men, except for like three close friends who your guy helped out in a pinch, no questions asked.

Freddy Krueger: Fan of the bad boys, but red / green flag colorblind. You use the phrase "sad wet rat of a man" often and as a high compliment. You man did everything wrong and you can fix him (wrong).

Chucky (aka Charles Lee Ray): Found family maniac above and beyond anyone else you know, specializing in daddy issues. You have trouble parsing sarcasm and are some kind of flavor of alphabet soup rainbow colored queer.

Ghostface (Scream): Catboy aficionado who always bets on the loser. Your man did everything wrong and you can make him worse. Your struggles are endless but you stay silly.

Xenomorph (Alien/Aliens): Transgender monsterfucker identified.

Yautja (Predator/Predator 2/Prey): Cisgender monsterfucker identified.

Maniac Cop: You've watched way too many horror movies, or you're a devoted Bruce Campbell completionist. You can't explain to anyone what you like anymore, you used to but you're afraid you've forgotten how. Take a break.

Angela Baker (Sleepaway Camp 2/3): You did it, you found the sole, consistent girl slasher in the horror franchise lineup. I guess someone just has to be different and special all the time. Now learn to stop trying to be a white knight and let a girl live her best life.

Art the Clown: You are the edgiest motherfucking clownfucker and will tell anyone about it unprompted, but cannot tell "I do not know why you told me this" from "I am upset about this." Calm down but don't lose that weirdness. Ride or die friend for life.

Pinhead (Hellraiser 1/2/2022): Searching for the elusive big titty goth boy friend. You are either the person who has trust fund money and uses it to wear expensive goth clothes and get all the tattoos but listens to Taylor Swift and has vanilla cis straight sex only, or you have no money and the hardest kinks on the books that you never talk about. No in between.

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Bloody Letters | Banda Sunato x GN!Reader

Summary: Banda is in prision, you the only survivor of his killing are still being haunted by him in a simple way. Letters.

Warnings: Banda is a warning himself  - Toxic!Relationship - Traumatic!Reader - Obsessive!Banda - Mentions of Gore and Mutilation - Mentions of sex - Reader gets called Bird - MDNI - +18 -

 

The first one came after he was arrested. It was only one week and yet he seemed to be missing you.

"Hello my Bird, each day in here its a torture I cant endure without you. Do you remember that week when I could not go out because the police was near our home? We had such a great time. I dont remember a place where I did not fuck you nice and full. The house never smelled better, sex and blood...the memory of it makes me hard while I write this. Why dont you send me some of these pics I took during that time? It would help me so much.

With devotion, your Banda"

You had pucked after it, wishing that by ignoring him he would let you alone. But you knew better.

At court you were called to testify against him. And you did, the horrors you had survived were showed to you once more.  But you stood your ground. The most sickering thing was him. He looked proud of himslef after each relate of how he killed and dismemberment a victim was told, and when he looked at you. It was a look so confused, his eyes like an abyss of pure evil and possession.

You had to stay in your parents home after that day.

"My Dear Bird, you looked so stunning at court today. Are you eating well? I see you having lose some weight. But thats fine, we can work that up once im out of here.

I must say, I was quiet sad that you did not testify on my side. Didnt you say you loved me ? That we would be together till death ?

Maybe you forgot your place. Maybe your wings are growing again.

See you soon my bird"

"Bird.

Why are you not responding ? Do you know how hard its to get these letters out ?

Do you think you can go back to normal and escape me ? Im in your life now, I left part of me inside you multiple times. You cant just ignore that, or what ? Did you get a new partner? Bird no one would ever care for you like I did. We bathed together in the blood of that woman!! Do you remember ? You were crying so much and it was such a good thing to see..."

Each day you waited that they will stop coming. That whoever was allowing these letters out would have some compassion for you.

You could not sleep or eat. Each sound made you remember him and his tortures. The dark was once again your biggest fear, each shadow made you think it was him.

"My Dear Bird, sorry my last letters were too violent, I now see my mistake.

The therapist  here says I should learn to control my impulses, how would he react if I told him i already imagined him dead by my knife ? Do you think he would react at all ?

You know I havent see it in so long. I miss it. Remember who I used it to ambush you that night ? I accidentally cut you, that was a real accident. I did not get to enjoy the moment. All the other ones....oh I did. The moments we shared are engraved in my mind forever now. Much like how my name its on your skin.

You havent remove it have you? I put so much effort on it...it would be a shame if you removed it.

Well I guess i will have to do it again then. We can do it as a part of our reunion.

With care, Banda"

The wait for his sentence was long. One more time, you had to see him one more time and then he would be gone of your life forever.

"My Bird.

Can you believe we will be seeing each other again ? We will soon reunite!!

I hope you smile more this time. You know I always loved that smile of yours....

You can cry too. It did things to me when you cried.

Have I mention how I keep dreaming of you? Its a shame I cant shove my dick inside you like I used to. You made the most delicious noises, specially when you were not fully awake and then when you did notice what whats happening...

Im getting hard just by thinking of it..."

"For the crimes the accused Banda Sunato has commitmet he is sentenced to death penalty with no chance for a appeal" The judge said and you felt like the world was off from you. You fell on the court's chair your family and Friends crying and hugging you. The family of the dead victims crying too.

But him. He was not crying. He was smiling that sick smile of his. His eyes pointed at you like a predator seeing his prey. For the first time you held his gaze and you saw how he did a move to try and come to you but was soon stopped by some guards.

"My Little Bird...

You were so beautiful at court today as well. And with your family no less, I have wanted to meet them for sometime now. What does they think of our relationship? Does they like me ? Does your father aprove of me ? I hope your mom cooks just as well as you used to. I cant wait to sit all together and tell them all the fantastic times we had together.

Where should I start ? The first night? The first time I took you ? When you saw me murder another person ? Maybe when you cooked their flesh ?-"

"Stop stop" You said covering your ears as your father read the letter with more and more ferocity.

"I will kill him myself" He said almost throwing the letter when a part catched his eyes. He went pale as he read it.

"What is it?" Your mom asked as she hugged you.

"I- I dont think-"

"Please Dad...what is it?" You begged now

"Dear Bird, do you know they grant a final wish for these whos sentence is death ? Besides a meal we get one final wish. And my wish was to see you once more, just you and me alone in a room. I hope the  judge sees my love for you and gives me that final wish....I cant wait to smell you again-"

"No!!" Your mother screamed taking the letter from your father then throwing it. "He cant ask for it! I wont let them go, the judge wont- the judge wont aprove it" Your mother said between sobs.

But justice failed you and did grant Babda his final wish and even demanded that you must be present or pay a big amount of money.

The light blue room and too bright light was making your skin crawl back as you waited. You knew there were officers and your own parents behind the glass but that still did not ease your nerves.

Finally he came guided by another officer, he was chained, feet and hands. Once sat in front of you the guard made sure he could not move or reach you before leaving.

Banda smiled at you "Hello my Bird, did you get my letters ? You never wrote back" He asked a slight mocking tone on his side.

"I burned them. You are never going to hurt me again. You are dead Banda, after this you will be nothing" You said back trying to keep your voice steady and calm even if your fingers were thighten the edges of the chair.

This caused Banda' smile to slowly dissapear. His posture now tense, he was studying you. Like many times before.

"Do you really think this is the end? That I wont ever be part of you again? My Bird...we are mean to be together till the end. If its not by my hand then i can assure you. Fate will bring us together"

"You can go to hell Banda, and take that fate with you too. We are done" You got up giving him one last look before walking out of the room. Once outside you collapsed on your parents arms, the start of a panic attack coming.

"Its over Dear, its over"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Shibuya was always packed with people and while you were not really feeling that much need to go out, you knew you needed to take your life back.

The lights changed and you started to cross, lost in the music from your phone you failed to notice something from the sky...

Next thing you knew you were in the middle of the city but...it was empy. No noise, no cars, nothing. Fear went over your body as you checked your phone. Dead, no signal.

What...was this another episode ?

"Well, seems like fate does wants us together my Bird" The voice who owned your nightmares spooke from behind.

You turned and there he was, his smile back and blood dripping from his hand where now a knife stood.

"Oh dont look at me like that...you know I cant contain myself if you do" Banda said twisting the knife with expertise "five minutes, thats your head start"

Your heart fell as your legs started to tremble but you could not move. This was not possible. How could he be here...and where were the people ?

"Run little Bird, becuase once I catch you. You wont be moving for a long time..."

And so you ran knowing he never said these things without meaning them.

[doveentrails]

Happy Anniversary🖤 (NSFW)

You celebrate your one year anniversary with Art and learn something new about him in the process... Word count: 5200 (afab! reader) This is basically just me going on about how much I love the idea of Art being submissive, so if you're into that, enjoy!

“Do you want me so bad?” You ask, pouting like you feel sorry for him. Art nods.

“Good.” You stand up and step away from him. “Then get on your knees.”

It's your one year anniversary with Art, and it's been quite a year to say the least. In the early days you weren't sure you'd survive it, not trusting that your fallible human form would be enough for someone like him. But Art proved his devotion to you over and over, surprising you - and himself - each time he let slip just how much he adores you.

You trust Art. You'd let him do just about anything. He listens now when something is too much for you. He knows what you need and exactly how to give it to you. You've come to adore him too.

Tonight you've convinced him to stay in with you. An anniversary isn't that big of a deal to him, but you've explained what it means to you, so he obliged. You cooked dinner, Art doesn't really need to eat, but he humors you, and he does like your cooking. You also bought a fancy bottle of wine, pouring it into your nicest glasses. You've lit candles, set the mood, and under your comfortable pajamas you're wearing his favorite set of lingerie.

You've treated Art sweetly all day. You even got him flowers, explaining that it's something people do for each other on special occasions. He seemed to appreciate the gesture. You know though, that underneath his sweetness there's so much more sinister. Now you find yourself wondering what will be on the table tonight, knowing it could quite literally be you.

How will he have you? As always, probably however he likes, and he'll keep you guessing. Art always has a surprise for you, a new way to bring you pleasure, though not without some pain as well. He holds you under his control so easily, and you love it.

You wonder, though, if there's a part of him that ever wants to relinquish control. You've seen flashes of it in him before. Like when he sits so still and watches so intently while you strip for him, letting you decide what he gets to see. Or by the way he responds so enthusiastically to praise, especially when he's going down on you. You can tell he wants to be told how good a job he's doing, that he's working hard for your approval. You wonder if it's really a need, not a want.

These thoughts are in your head as you gaze at him over your glass of wine, and within you builds your resolve to get the answer as you take another drink. Whatever it is, you're not going to play nice about it. You're going to tease him, and make him admit it to you the hard way.

Satisfied with this little game you've created in your head, you snuggle up closer to Art on the couch, tucking your feet under his leg and leaning into his shoulder.

"Drink your wine, babe," you encourage him, "I got it special for us."

You look at him with a pout and he rolls his eyes at you, making a big show of lifting his glass to swirl and smell the expensive red wine. Then he pretends to hold his nose as he leans back and takes a sip, playfully grimacing at you once he swallows it.

"You're such a brat," You hit him on the arm, laughing. "I know you like this one. Drink it for meee?" You drag out the end of your sentence and pout your bottom lip at him.

Art waves his hand as though to say, oh alright, and takes another sip from his glass. He smiles at you, and you lean up to kiss his cheek. Your game is already beginning.

You sit on the couch together and watch a horror movie. Art laughs at them, and he also suspects (correctly) that they get you in the mood. The two of you work steadily through the bottle of wine. You're careful to pour more into his glass than yours. If your little experiment is going to work, you want Art nice and pliable, warm and relaxed. Alcohol doesn't affect him as much as it would a normal person, but you've noticed how he gets when you have wine nights - languid movements, more affectionate, sleepy kisses. This is going to be easy.

You feel slightly diabolical and can hardly contain your excitement at your plan. The movie continues and you stretch out on the couch, putting your feet in Art's lap. You wiggle them around, being a little obnoxious about it, until he starts to rub them for you.

"Thank you, baby," you say, and then, "Mmmmm, you're so good at that." You're worried you sound a little too theatrical, but Art just looks up at you and smiles, waggling his eyebrows. He focuses intently on rubbing your feet for you, not even looking up to watch the beheading onscreen.

It seems as though he's already all yours. You grow warm with the thoughts of what you could do with him. Could you make him shy? Embarrassed? You'd sure as hell try. You smirk and raise your glass to your lips.

Once he's rubbed your feet to your satisfaction, you cuddle up to him again. Art puts his arm around you and tucks you close to him. He feels warmer than usual, and you lean over to pour more wine into his glass. You think he might give you a side eye at this, and you wonder if he knows what you're up to, trying to get him tipsy. A thrill runs through you at the thought of toying with him the way he toys with you.

You can barely focus on the movie as Art continues to sip his wine next to you. You sink into the warmth of his body. His breath is low and even. Unable to stop yourself, you lean up to kiss his neck. You place slow, deliberate kisses from his collar to his jawline. Art leans in to let you closer, and you nip at his neck with your teeth, letting out a sigh. He looks down at you, a little caught off guard, but clearly into it.

"Sorry," you giggle, pulling away. You lean your forehead against him. "I'm a little distracted."

In response to you comment, Art pulls you into his lap, facing him. You shimmy your hips and get comfortable, heat rising to your face. Art doesn't do anything right away, just rests his hands on your thighs and looks up at you serenely. You know he loves to hold you in his lap like this.

Arching your back seductively as you lean, you grab Art's wine glass and hold it to his lips. He lets you pour the last of the glass down his throat. Then he meets your gaze with an invitation of his own, and you lean down, fitting your mouths together.

Normally he doesn't kiss you this gently. You're impressed by how nice he's playing for you - impressed and extremely turned on. You exchange tender kisses, holding his face in your hands. You arch your back, and swivel your hips, moving in all the ways he likes, but Art doesn't move his hands from where they rest, semi-innocently, on your thighs.

You cover his hands with yours and kiss him like this for several delicious moments. Then you pull away and look in his eyes where you see an undeniable hunger.

"What do you want to do?" you ask him with a wry smile. "Should we go to the bedroom?" He continues to gaze up at you with want. "The basement?" you test. At this he nods slowly, keeping his eyes on you.

You're up from the couch before you can think about anything else, leading Art by the hand as you head for the stairs. You feel giddy. You feel like an animal. You're going to make him admit exactly what he wants.

Art’s workshop is a place you two often fool around, testing out the new toys he comes up with for you. Now as you lead him down the stairs, you want nothing but to find out whether he’s ever been curious about being on the receiving end. Your pulse quickens and you can’t hold back a mischievous smile as you reach the bottom of the stairs and turn on the light. 

Immediately you can’t help but turn around and throw yourself into his arms, getting on tiptoe to kiss him with all of the lust building in your body. Slow and filthy, with one arm thrown around his neck and the other hand cupping his cheek, you kiss him in a passionate embrace. Art keeps his hands politely on your hips. You’re surprised he’s not grabbing a fistful of your ass, or pulling you back by the hair so he can viciously bite your neck. Already, without any prompting, he’s letting you take the lead.

You pull away, panting against his neck, and Art stands still, holding your hips and waiting for your next move. You can feel that he’s already hard, and the heat pulsing between your legs is beginning to ache for him. Still, you stay true to your plan. You bat your eyelashes at him and look up coyly.

“So, where do you want me?” you ask playfully. Art makes no move to direct you. Your breath catches in your chest, and you’re intoxicated by the moment. You step towards him, forcing him to take a step back. You smile up at him, and he allows you to back him against the wall. Grabbing onto his wrists, you remove his hands from you and hold them down at his sides, leaning up to kiss his neck hungrily. 

“Or should I tell you where I want you?” You purr into his ear. Art doesn’t move, and you decide to taunt him further. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Your voice comes out heavy and sultry, your breath hot against his skin. This has to be driving him crazy, but he’s not showing you anything.

“Would you like that?” you press, grinning devilishly and studying his face. Art nods and his mouth slowly spreads into a smile. 

“That’s what I thought,” you say, and you wrap your arms around his neck, catching his mouth in another rough, passionate kiss. You pull away abruptly, leaving him wanting for more, and you lead him by the hand to the chair that you always sit in. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you lower Art down into the chair.

“Don’t. Move.” You tell him firmly. The smile won’t leave your face, you’re absolutely thrilled by the situation unfolding before you. Art at your mercy for once, how delicious. Art is watching you as you pace the room, deciding what you’ll do next. He keeps a straight face, but you see a spark of amusement in his eyes. 

You decide to start with what you know puts him in the right headspace, and you stand in the center of the room to begin unbuttoning your silk pajama top. You let one side fall from your shoulder, revealing the deep red lace strap of Art’s favorite lingerie of yours. You see the delight in his eyes, and throw your head back to sigh as though he’s touched you. You leave your top partially unbuttoned and step towards him, hooking both thumbs in the waistband of your matching shorts.

Moving towards him, you gyrate your hips and flash your red lace panties. You come to a stop in front of him, standing within his reach. You turn around and bend forward, sticking your ass out so you're nearly in his lap. Swaying your hips for him, you pull your shorts down so, so slowly, letting them fall to the ground. Then you step out of them and turn to face him, your legs now straddling his lap, but not making contact. You give him a look that says, don’t you dare move. You bite your lip and smile down at him, making a display of pulling your top off over your head. Now you're right in front of him in his favorite lace, teasing him with the closeness of your body. 

“How bad do you want me?” you ask, ghosting your hands over his chest. Art gives nothing away. You step even closer, your bare stomach just an inch from his face. Still he doesn’t move. You grab his chin and make him look up at you. “How bad. Do you want me?” you repeat sternly.

Then you let him go and push his legs apart, kneeling down between them. You tease him with your mouth, letting out a hot, heavy breath over his hard cock. You look up at him in the way that you know drives him crazy.

“Do you want me so bad?” You ask, pouting like you feel sorry for him. Art nods.

“Good.” You stand up and step away from him. “Then get on your knees.” Art does as you say, and you feel another heady rush of adrenaline. The way he obediently gets on his knees for you is nearly enough to get you off on it's own, and the way he's watching you, eager to see what you'll do next is just too good.

Dizzy from your power trip, you survey Art’s workshop. You get to decide what happens next. The feeling is absolutely intoxicating, and all at once you feel you understand why Art does things this way. Sure, you don’t have him restrained, and you don’t plan to hurt him, not badly at least, but the way he’s kneeling for you, handing himself over to you, is a level of control you’ve never had over him before. It feels like a key turning within a lock you didn’t know you had buried deep within you. 

So many choices, you think as you look over his weapons and tools. A few jump out at you - should you prod him with something, or tease him with something sharp? Will you tie him up? At last, you find just the thing. You retrieve your selection from a hook on the wall, and walk back to where you’ve left Art waiting patiently for you. 

“I have something for you,” you tell him. Then your hands go to his neck, securing the thick, black leather collar on him. You pull the chain leash tight and force his chin upwards. He’s used this collar and leash with you before, and having the roles reversed brings you a perverse delight. You see a similar shine in Art’s eyes as he looks up at you. You knew he’d be so down for this.

You step behind him and reach for the zipper on the back of his costume, undressing him slowly. He stays on his hands and knees for you, allowing you to pull off his shoes and carefully slide the fabric of his costume off his body. Then he sits before you, leashed and naked, awaiting your next command, his cock throbbing and leaking for you. You put your hand under his chin and stroke his cheek gently with your thumb.

“You look so good like this, baby,” you tell him. You can’t believe how obscenely wet this has you. You need to get things moving here. Roughly, you jerk him towards you with the leash. His nose brushes against your panties.

"Kiss me," you command, breathlessly. Instantly Art's mouth is on you, giving the fabric that separates you sloppy, open mouth kisses. The heat of his mouth sends pleasure rushing through your entire body. You make him worship you like this, through the lace of your underwear until you can't take it anymore. Gently, you pull him away from you and step out of your panties. Art doesn't make a move a muscle until you say it.

"Eat me." And his mouth is on you again with twice the fervor. He licks up into your folds roughly, your arousal coating his tongue. His nose presses against your clit as he pushes his tongue hungrily inside you. You can feel how turned on he is by the energy he's putting into eating your pussy. It's too good, and you want to lay him down and ride his face properly. Then you remember that you can do just that.

You jerk the leash harshly, pulling Art off of you, and he's literally panting. He looks up at you and you see desperation in his eyes.

"Lie down," you tell him, and he leans back onto the floor. You kneel over top of him. You cup his face in your hands and look him in the eyes.

"You're doing so good, baby," your voice is sweet as you look down at him, "I like you like this." You kiss him softly then move to straddle his face. "Now make me cum," you demand, pulling him towards you with the leash around his neck.

Art eats you out like he'll never get the chance to do it again. His tongue and his teeth feel so unbelievably good against your pussy. They always do, but this is ten times better than usual. You keep pulling on the leash, forcing him as close to you as possible. You can tell he wants to grab your ass, or do something with his hands, but you haven't given him permission, so they rest near your ankles.

"Touch yourself," you command in a gasp as you ride his face. Art obediently starts stroking his dick for you. "Keep going," you pant out, "but don't cum." Art nods his head underneath you while he continues to flick his tongue in circles around your clit.

"Fuck, babe, your mouth feels so good," you moan. At this, he catches the sensitive nub between his teeth, stopping your movement. He slowly applies more pressure, sucking and twisting, and you cry out in pleasure. He holds you there a moment, still pumping his cock, and looks you in the eyes while you writhe and squirm for him. The moment is electric, and you're reminded that the control you have over him has been gifted.

Then he lets you go and flattens his tongue for you to ride. You grind against his face until you feel your orgasm building steadily. Just the sight of Art with the collar around his throat is enough to take you there, and soon you're coming undone all over his mouth. You pant and ride out the waves of pleasure on his face, and Art licks everything up, making you twitch with over stimulation.

You notice he's stopped jerking himself off. "I didn't tell you to stop," you tease, and he wraps his hand around his length again. You watch him pleasure himself for you while you come down from your high.

"What am I gonna do with you now?" You wonder aloud. Art just keeps working his hand over his shaft, watching you with heavy lidded eyes.

"Bet you wanna fuck me, huh?" you ask him, and he nods. But you pause. This was the moment you've been after this whole time. "Or..." you venture, watching his face closely. "Should I fuck you?"

Art's face reveals nothing, but he's sure not saying no. He just lies there watching you, jerking himself off lazily. Right now he looks like he'd do anything for you, and gladly. You stand up on shaky legs, leaving him there, in search of a new toy. You really do feel like a maniac, rifling through Art's instruments of torture, fucked out and high on endorphins, only craving more.

Soon you find what you're looking for, a familiar friend, long and thick, made of silicone. Art has shoved this thing up your ass countless times, and you can't wait to return the favor. You return to him and pick up the leash. He sees what you have and he stops the movement of his hand. You almost laugh at the look of depraved excitement on his face. You can't believe how much he really wants this. How long has he been waiting for you to take him down here and fuck him like a slut, you wonder.

"Okay, get on your hands and knees," you instruct. Art obeys without hesitation. You've never seen him like this before. His bratty attitude, his sarcasm, all gone as soon as you had put the leash on him and started bossing him around.

You approach him from the front and hold the toy up to his mouth. He accepts it, coating it with a generous amount of spit and staring you in the eyes while he does it. "Good boy," you say and stroke his cheek.

Keeping your hold on the leash, you move behind him. You smooth your hands across his skin, and you feel him tense under you touch in anticipation. You reach out in front of you again to have Art suck on your fingers. Once they're equally spit coated, you press one against his tight entrance and push inside.

You work back and forth slowly, feeling his body respond to you. He lets out a sigh as you add another finger. You spit into your hand and keep working him open.

"You really like this, don't you?" you taunt him. "Tell me how much you like it." Art nods for you and leans down on his elbows, arching into the thrusts of your hand. You continue to stretch him out, but the toy is larger than your three fingers by a rather wide margin. Oh well, he's done worse to you.

"Do you want me to fuck you like a slut?" you ask him. Art doesn't give you a response right away and you yank on the leash. "Tell me," you demand. Art nods his head. "That's what I thought," you smirk, and you begin to push the toy inside him.

It takes some work and a lot more spit, but soon your thrusting in and out of him with ease. "Does that feel good?" You ask, and he nods in response. "I knew you'd be such a good slut for me," you tell him sweetly, keeping tension on the leash.

Art is moving in time with your thrusts, and you can tell he's really enjoying this. Something about fucking him like this feels so twisted, being the aggressor is so foreign. It sends a thrill through your body. The sight of Art's cock, leaking and twitching each time you hit his prostate has you so turned on all over again.

"Let me make you feel really good," you tell him. You let go of the leash and reach around to start stroking his wanting shaft in time with your thrusts. Art gasps at your touch. "I know it feels so good. Are you gonna cum for me, baby?" He nods his head.

You continue fucking him and stroking him at a steady pace, feeling his body tense and his breathing become shallow. You work the toy in and out of him faster and deeper, aiming to hit his sweet spot each time. Then you lick your palm, pulling away briefly, only to return your spit slicked hand to his cock with rough, sloppy stokes. In no time he's spilling himself all over the floor and your hand. You fuck him through his orgasm, and pull him back towards you, holding him in your arms when you're finished.

Art looks up at you, totally blissed out. You smile down at him. You reposition yourself and fold him against your chest. He rests his head easily on your shoulder. You kiss the top of his head, then his cheek and the end of his nose. Holding him like this feels so special and vulnerable.

Then he leans up to you and pulls you down for a kiss with a hand on the back of your head. It's a deep, dirty, needy kiss that leaves your heart beating faster.

"We're not done, are we?" you ask, and Art grins and shakes his head. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you on top of him in one smooth motion.

His hungry mouth is on your neck, liking, biting and kissing, while his hands find your lingerie top and make quick work of pulling it off and casting it aside. He presses your bare chest to his and grabs greedy handfuls of your ass as he continues to mark up your neck and shoulder with his mouth. You know that nothing with Art is ever over until he's fucked you properly at least once, and it's clear that's what he intends to do. You figure you've had your fun with him, time to let him do what we wants, but part of you thinks maybe you can keep his submissive streak going.

You grab a hold of the leash again and sit up, jerking him to attention. Art locks eyes with you in surprise and a playful smile spreads across his lips. You get up and stand over him.

"Come on," you insist, leading him back to the chair, and Art crawls, fucking crawls, behind you. Oh, it's still so on, you think. You put him in the chair and stand in front of him. You just watch him for a moment, enjoying the scene as it's unfolding.

Keeping the leash taught in your hand, you step towards him and let him wrap his arms around you. Immediately, his mouth is on your tits, pinching a nipple between his teeth, rolling his tongue across it, and his hands are on your ass again, caressing your curves. Art continues work his mouth over your breasts and palm your ass while you take his still-soft cock in your hand and stroke it until he starts getting hard again, which doesn't take long.

This moment is pure ecstasy. You hold Art's chin in your hand and he looks up at you with utter devotion. You kiss him sweetly and climb into his lap. You keep stroking him until he's fully erect, looking in his eyes while you do it.

"Should I let you fuck me?" you ask him. Art nods his head. "Are you sure you deserve it?" He pauses at this, unsure how to respond, and starts gently kissing your neck, as though to win you over. You push him back against the chair, drunk on power. "Beg me." You say simply.

Art might not be able to beg out loud, but he sure as hell was begging you with his eyes. You hold out, seeing what else he'll do. He raises his hands in silent prayer before you, bearing his teeth in a pained, desperate smile and that's all you need. You're on him in an instant, just as desperate for him as he is for you.

You position yourself on him and slide him inside your walls easily. You ride out the burn and stretch of his length spreading you open, establishing a fast rhythm right away. Art sighs and his eyes roll back, taking pleasure in the way you're moving on top of him. He leans back and watches you ride him, barely moving beneath you.

Heat is building in your abdomen quickly. The stretch of him is just too good. You continue to bounce on Art's cock, letting him fill you completely, while he reaches up to pinch and twist your nipples as your tits bounce in front of him. The added burn brings heat to your face and you let out a moan.

Encouraged by this, Art ruts up into you as your coming back down, a jolt of pain and pleasure shocks you to your core and you cry out. He's back to his usual self, laughing and bucking his hips into you again and again.

You slow down a bit and wrap your arms around his neck, catching your breath. You press your mouth to his and change your rhythm, grinding against him slowly, pressing yourself down onto him as hard as you can. Your tongues slide together, and you moan into his mouth again, rolling your hips faster.

Art grabs a hold of you to keep you steady, keeping your hips pressed down firmly while you writhe on his cock. He smiles against your mouth.

"Is this what you wanted, baby?" You sound completely breathless and desperate. Art nods and takes your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling you in hard. Your forehead pressed to his you look into his eyes, submissive Art is gone. What you see is determined Art, ready to unravel you. Still maintaining your steady grind against him, you kiss him deeply again. Your clit is rolling deliciously over the solidness of his pubic bone, and you can feel him deep inside you, bruising your cervix, hitting you in all the right places.

"Fuck, you feel so good, babe, I'm gonna cum," you tell him, and Art takes your hips in his hands and pushes you back and forth over his stiff length, doing the work for you. He keeps you moving at a relentless pace as you clench around him, not stopping until he's shooting hot ropes inside you.

You collapse against his body, worried that being in this position so long will have left you unable to walk. You breathe together for a moment, both of you appreciating the afterglow. When you look down at Art he leans up and kisses you on the cheek.

"You're so kissy today," you giggle at him. He gestures to the collar still around his neck, giving it a wiggle, as if that's the explanation. "Well, if that's all it takes," you laugh, and remove the collar, dropping it on the floor. Art shrugs at you and raises his eyebrows. He gives you another kiss on the cheek for good measure.

When he sees that you're struggling to stand, Art gets up and lifts you into his arms, carrying you bridal style.

"Can we shower please?" You ask, and he carries you up the stairs to the bathroom, perching you on the sink while he starts the water running. He helps you into the shower. Once inside, the warm water hitting your body relaxes you, and you begin to feel more steady.

"You know," you say looking up at him, "I'm gonna be meaner to you next time." You give him a playful smile. Art balks at you.

"I'm serious," you tease, "I'm gonna be so mean." You reach out and twist his nipple and he bats you away, opening his mouth in pretend shock. "I know you love it," you jeer. He sticks out his tongue and pulls a face at you.

You finish showering together and step out into the cool air of the bathroom. Both of you towel off and Art puts on your borrowed bathrobe. It's pink and threadbare and way too short for him, hitting him above the knee, but you think he looks adorable in it. You put on your own plush robe and step towards him to wrap him in a hug.

"Thanks for such a great anniversary," you say. And you really mean it, you couldn't have asked for anything better. Art kisses the top of your head and squeezes you back.

Then the two of you snuggle back up on the couch together and fall asleep trying to watch the end of your movie. As you drift off to sleep, you can't help but wonder how you're going to top this next year.

[actuallysaiyan]

There's A Light(Tomura Shigaraki x Fem!Reader)

warnings: mentions of death, fluff, angst, nightmares, mentions of Tenko's quirk, he's referred to as Tenko mostly in this fic word count: 0.7k pairings: Tomura Shigaraki/Tenko Shimura x Fem!Reader summary: it's the same nightmare every time, but this time you're there to help him calm down. a/n: my first Tenko fic!!!!!! Special thanks to: @kentocalls for the idea, @cherryblossombankai for encouraging me to write this. dividers by: @adornedwithlight and tagging @pixelcafe-network

The sounds were still so intense. The vision of it was still so bright. The way they just crumbled away. Even poor Mon had just crumbled away. Tenko watches in horror as a spectator to the worst day of his life. He screams, clutching his face in the same way he had done that day. He’s screaming, crying as he can’t turn back time. It’s terrifying to watch it over and over and over again.

Then he wakes up. He’s…in your bed. With your cute lavender sheets that you swore helped with anxiety. So much for that, he thinks to himself. But he sees you snuggled up close to him, and that alone is enough to bring him back down to earth. It had only been a dream.

Just the worst dream ever.

You stir in your sleep, rolling over to be even closer to him. You blink in the darkness of the room and finally you notice that your boyfriend seems to be awake. It dawns on you that he might have had a nightmare. You look at him.

“Tenko…you okay?” you ask in a sleepy voice.

He shudders. “I’m…no, I’m not.”

You finally shake the rest of the sleep from your mind and you snuggle even closer to him. He finally gets close to you, wrapping his arms around you. Every time he touches you, he has to remember not to use his quirk. God, it would kill him to accidentally do that to you. And the way you just trust him not to fucking decay you. It kills him inside sometimes to even think of it.

“Didja have a nightmare?” you ask, your voice tinged with drowsiness.

“Yes, I did.”

You look into his eyes and play with his hair. He shudders again, wondering how the hell he even got this lucky to have such a wonderful person to love him. Nobody could ever take you away from him. He’d rather die than to give you up. You were everything to him and you pulled all this softness from him. You broke down those walls with kindness, patience and true love.

“The same one?”

Tenko nods, “Y-yeah…it’s always that one.”

He had told you what happened to his family. You were horrified that nobody but the worst man ever had come to his rescue. But you were a soothing balm for Tenko’s hurt soul. All the bruises, the scratches, the scars…oh you tenderly took good care of them and kissed his tears away.

“I know there’s nothing I can do or say to change that day,” you pressed a soft kiss to his chapped lips. “But I can tell you that I’m here with you forever.”

No, you couldn't change his past. But you could change his future. You could make sure he lives a happy life. You would be there with him for this nightmare and all the others that would be bound to happen in the near future. You could be the one to dry his tears and to kiss his wounds.

“I want you…I want you to stay with me.” His words sound so vulnerable. He touches your face and you smile.

Every time he touches you, it’s so sweet. It’s so warm. You know how easily he could lose control and the fact that he doesn’t, it shows his true devotion to you. His quirk could easily kill you. Except Tenko is so deeply in love with you, he can control it. It’s all for you.

“I’ll stay, my love. I won’t ever leave you, Tenko.”

You cup his cheeks and you place a soft kiss to his forehead first. Then you kiss the tip of his nose, which makes him laugh so softly. Then you kiss his lips, allowing it to go on for longer than just a few seconds.

“I used to be so scared…going to sleep used to be so scary. But now, even if I have nightmares, I know I’m safe.” He confesses, his smile a little more shy now.

“I promise, I’ll always be the light in your darkness.”

And it’s with sweet words like this that Tenko knows you are the one for him. You understand him like no other and he knows that you’ll always be right by his side.

With a few more shared kisses, Tenko finally feels comfortable enough to fall asleep.

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

[rs-hawk]

Gender irrelevant, an enthused archaeologist encounters a creature which would change the known history of the entire area, and sets out to track it to its lair for further (actual) research.

Instead, what awaits them is an education in why this thing was worshipped, and why they should start worshipping it too.

This just broke me out of my slump/writer’s block 😍 TW: the Raven Mocker. Light horror smut

You have been studying the development of civilization and population growth in the Appalachian Mountains. It was always your “special interest” as a kid, and now in your early 30s, you’re finally able to devote yourself to it properly. After years of studying everything in books, charts, even occasionally going to Indigenous Cultural Centers to discuss what they knew about their ancestors who lived there, you finally get to get into the field. Yet, there’s one creature that keeps popping up that you can’t get out of your head for some reason is the Raven Mocker. It makes you hesitant, but you push through.

Of course, even as a child your mother told you about them. You always sort of brushed it off because you always thought that it was just stories that your mom picked up from her mom. It’s not like you really grew up in the culture anyway. However, in the mountains, setting up your camp as night falls around you, a shiver creeps down your spine. There’s something watching you. You know it. The primal part of your brain is on sending out high alert signals to every part of your body.

You tell yourself you’re being silly. At worst there’s some predators, but you have a gun, and a fire going. You just want to make your way to a spot where your colleague said he saw some fragmented pottery and what he thought might be evidence of a small band who used to worship something they thought lived in these woods. From what he could gather from the shards, it seemed to be some kind of deity of death. This thrilled you. Against hope, you hoped that you might be able to discover a small, lost village or band that had vanished with time.

With that hope warming your heart and pushing away the anxiety creeping up your spine, you crawled into your tent, finally able to get some sleep. Although it was against the regulations of the park you where in, you left the fire going to ward off animals. You just set an alarm for every 90 minutes to check in and tend to it. That night, you are lucky. Nothing happened. But your recklessness has caught the eye of the very creature who lives in the back of your head.

Every branch you stumble over. Every time a twig scratches your face. Every time you cross a stream or go off trail because of something blocking your path. It’s there. Watching you with a curiosity that it hasn’t felt since it had its own body. How long ago has it been now? It looks down at its rotting limbs, twisting them this way and that. Flexing its wings. Centuries. It’s been scavenging for new body parts for centuries.

The sound of your voice filling the air as you curse a rock you had stubbed your toe on brings its attention back to you. The creature decides to scavenge new parts before approaching you. Just in case you can see it, it doesn’t want to look a mess.

You make your way to another spot you think is safe to camp. That might, you decide not to leave the fire going. You feel safer. More secure. And you’re worried about what might happen if you sleep through an alarm. The thought of being why a giant forest fire sweeps through the mountains makes your mouth run dry. No. It’s not worth it. You shouldn’t have even risked it last night.

Tonight, you curl up in your sleeping bag again, dozing off quickly despite your skittishness about your surroundings. However, you’re woken up by the sound of what at first you thought was a wild hog. Your blood runs cold as you sit frozen, knowing that you’ll be killed. You have no way to properly protect yourself from one, but you were in an area not known for them. After a few minutes of listening, you see a shadow cast onto your tent walls by the moonlight. It’s a bear.

You’re not sure what happens next, but before you know it, you’re laying on the shredded floor of your tent as the bear wanders away after not being able to find the food you’d tied high above the ground. The attack leaves you weak, but you manage to call 9-1-1 and tell them in a gurgled voice where you are. They promise to send park rangers as soon as possible. The woman asks you to keep talking, but your reception is spotty at best. After mere moments, the connection is lost. All you can do now is hope that they get here in time.

The Raven Mocker finds you easily. Even more so than it would have thanks to the delicious scent of your death. It flies over to you, inhaling the sweet scent of your life force. Through blurred vision, and a trembling voice, you ask it for help.

“Please. Just, make it quick,” you ask, knowing what it is as its wings fold behind its back. Those beady eyes peering down at you. “It’s not like they’re going to find me in time.”

It looks at you curiously. Do you really want to die? It can’t decide. Instead, it walks around you before straddling your weak body. It leans close to you, slowly drinking in your life and it leaves your body. You wince, but it doesn’t hurt. Not really. In fact, how gentle its being, the way its holding you as it slowly steals your life, is almost kind. Maybe its the blood loss. Maybe its because you’ve always been scared, and its not that scary. Not really. But you lean up to meet its deformed lips.

The Raven Mocker is caught off guard, even pausing its drinking of you. However, it soon returns the kiss. Its foul tasting tongue invades your mouth, making you let out a tiny sound of approval. The creature hasn’t felt like this in a long time. So long. It had been a long time even when it was a human. Its hands wander, exploring your slowly dying body, but you respond to every touch. Your cunt starts to get wet as it slips a hand between the two of you, palming and teasing it over what little cloth still covers it.

It tears the rest of it off with ease, quickly sinking two of its decaying fingers inside of you. A soft moan escapes your lips as it pumps in and out of you, spreading its fingers to stretch you out. You’re arching as much as you can in this weak state. You’re starting to feel cold, but this distraction is helping.

Before you know it, the creature pulls out its fingers and replaces it with something so large that you can’t help but cry out as it’s crammed inside of you. You can’t even look to see if the cock now jackhammering inside of your wet cunt is human or not. Not that you suppose it really matters. The creature’s wings shield you from the drops of rain that have started to trickle down onto the two of you. It was making you even colder until it shields you.

Its withered hands hold your upper body closer to it as it hunches over you, slamming its cock in and out of you. It bullies your poor cervix and stretches you more than you ever have been stretched. You can feel your life starting to slip more and more away as its talons scratch down your back, though not unkindly.

Precum coats your womb as it crams itself inside of you. To your surprise, you feel something else pushing into you. You try to shift slightly, the pleasure now becoming more of a pain, but it doesn’t let you. Instead, it pushes you to the ground and uses its full weight to pin you there. Before you realize what’s happening, there’s a popping noise, and you’re fuller than you’ve ever been. You grimace and try to move, but the decaying creature on top of you holds you still, decaying and cracked lips finding every soft spot of exposed skin as its wings shield you from the now onslaught of rain.

The cum feels hot. Too hot. Inside of you as it pumps rope after rope into you. All you can do is lay there, slowly slipping into unconscious as your blood pools under you. Just as it pulls out, you hear park rangers. The creature caws as it straights and bursts into a run before taking flight. From a distance, it really does just look like a raven.

The rangers manage to save your life, and the Raven Mocker leaves you alone. Even when you try to call it back, worshipping it for its power. All you can do now is wait for Death.

[lovesick-girly]

the devil all the time book review

author: donald ray pollock

genre: southern gothic, crime, thriller

published: 12th july 2011

stars: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

synopsis: a young man devoted to protecting his loved ones must face off against corruption and sinister characters in a postwar backwoods town.

themes: good vs. evil, religion and hypocrisy, violence and death, trauma and psychological damage, corruption and moral decay, fate and desperation, poverty and despair, family and protection

fav quotes:

“Some people were born just so they could be buried.”

“It's hard to live a good life...It seems like the Devil don't ever let up.”

“They's a lot of no-good sonofabitches out there."

“Sometimes it seemed as if she spent half of her life crying.”

“He wondered if he would ever feel clean again.”

“Let me pray first," he sobbed. He started to put his hands together. "I already did it for you," Arvin said. "Put in one of them special requests you fuckers are always talking about, asked Him to send you straight to hell.”

my thoughts/review:

i love this book so much that i couldn’t put it down. donald ray pollock's the devil all the time is a harrowing southern gothic-like novel that borders on straight-up horror, taking the cake for disturbing and depraved. set in the post-world war ii backwoods of ohio and west virginia, it paints a bleak, grotesque picture of humanity, filled with violence, madness, and desperation (my kinda book hehe).

my favourite character is arvin, a deeply morally grey individual whose struggle to navigate a violent world while holding onto a sense of justice kept me hooked. his internal conflict and actions are unsettling yet sympathetic. another favourite perspective of mine was lenora, whose innocence and tragic vulnerability added a heartbreaking depth to the novel. sandy's perspective was equally fascinating—her entanglement with her husband in their twisted, murderous routine gave the story a layer of depravity that was chilling.

the story takes readers through the eyes of some truly gnarly and grotesque individuals, from a husband-and-wife serial killer duo to a predatory preacher and travelling freak show. the imagery is immersive and grotesque.

pollock’s prose is both beautiful and disgustingly twisted. he uses rich descriptions to create scenes that make you squirm but also pull you deeper into the narrative. if you loved the movie or like weird books i can't recommend enough.

[sugudoe]

matchmake me bestie 😭

-I work with behavioral needs children, mainly in schools, dealing with tantrums from pre-school to grade school, from small tantrums to full blown, classroom destroying meltdowns (I love it)

-I love horror movies, animals, naps, audiobooks, and video games

-I am confident and I do *not* accept nonsense when people come at me or mine

-I have #anxiety

-I like to cook, I’m okay at it

-uh, idk what else to say. I am a person who is trying to survive in this world that is constantly trying to make it harder to survive 😭

hii bestie!! i was so anxious to make yours, and you are so cool, mwahh! also, you reminded me so much of my reader from “when i kissed the teacher” so i got inspired by it. 🤍 ps: sorry for only one pairing, i’ll be doing this from time to time unless i get confused on pairings — i have other works to post and the matchmakings are for fun, hope u guys understand.

✶ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: nanami kento

One can only take much before crumbling down. You left the Jujutsu world behind, locking away your cursed technique, devotion the attention you gave to curses and evil leaders to something more bright and better — Nanami Kento envied you, but he was also the one who was proud the most.

The male thought of you with high regards, good memories of an old life, sighing contempt coming back from a difficult mission, thanking the universe that you weren’t there. In this world of lives in danger and deep wounds, your presence was being required in a school, with crying babies and ripped shirts from tiny fists.

He missed you, could never not miss you, your lack of presence was sensed by every creature in the world — your CT was the ability to manipulate emotions, but it could affect you as well. Sometimes, you would go numb for days, and the high ups would dig themselves into you to achieve terrible missions anyone would deny. Nanami was the one to put his fist down, to get you away during those moments.

It was also his care and warm presence that brought your true self back.

You missed him as well, like sunflowers without the sun to kiss their faces, you missed his constant warm. It was a normal situation to find yourself with his number on dial, but never pressing the buttons, not knowing that on Tokyo, hours away from you, his actions were the same. Like a tangled red thread, you move and he moves the same way.

One day, one folds. You call him, happiness increasing in your aura when he says “Hello, angel.” with that sweet voice, you know he is smiling as large as you.

It’s months of cellphone calls, everyday updating each other of your lives. You tell him of your lovely and difficult students, who remind you a lot of Gojo. He tells you of the new students you haven’t met yet, nor do you ever will, both of you think.

Your voices is what keeps the other happy for the day, the last thing before falling to sleep.

One day, Nanami calls you before the designed time, before a mission, in Shibuya. He tells you he feels weird, maybe scared, but he refuses for you to come, even when you beg. Kento says he will call later, and that he loves you.

It feels like a goodbye, but the granted love of the universe falls for the two of you — he survives, and he does not want this life anymore. So with a quick goodbye to those he cares the most, Nanami moves to your city, in a coastal area, little house by the sea. Going to sleep with his arms around you and waves crashing in the distance, life finally becomes peaceful.

Nanami opens a little bakery, he often stops by your classes to drop some of his most tasteful breads and grant them to your students as well, they all love him very much. The two of you adopt a canine and feline companion, naming them after your friends from high school. They always cuddle at your feet on your large couch, while the two of you are watching movies, specially scary movies. Nanami loves to have you flinched from a jumpscare and crawling into lis lap.

Life with Nanami is very much simple, there is no need to control emotions or repress them, when you are daily showered with devotion and love and can reciprocate without feeling the dread that comes next. The world is not so hard to survive anymore, and when the anxiety can get too much, and thoughts spiral shaping into hurricanes, his arms can carry you back home, to the safety of his heart.

──── ✎ ° ⋆ FUN FACTS.

◛ ₊· Nanami does not disagree that you are a good cooker, but he much rather be the one making your meals, as a way of showing love and letting you rest.

◛ ₊· He loves to listen to audiobooks with you as well, while you both are on a road trip to the mountains or other beaches, you listen to it together. But, if asked, he would much rather hear your voice reading to him.

◛ ₊· Nanami loves how good and caring you are with the children, your patience as well. Anytime he catches you with your students or hears you’re talking about them, he doesn’t contain his smile. Secretly, he can’t wait to have some of your own.

[desolatespring]

Imagine Yan Chrollo switching out darlings medication with sleeping pills and she recognizes and confronts him about it 💃💃💅✨

Sonata

CW: drugging, manipulation, yandere behavior, insinuated noncon

The dull ache in your muscles only strengthened your reasoning to stay in bed. The warmth of the silken sheets far too tempting to resist.

Maybe your vitamin D levels were low from being cooped inside all the time? Surely that could result in this fatigue plaguing you.

You sigh. ��1, 2, 3.’ You force yourself to get out of bed, stifling the tired groan from escaping your lips, knowing it would only alert Chrollo to your wakefulness.

Moving as quietly as possible you enter the bathroom down the hall from your bedroom. You open the door only partway, having memorized how far it’ll open before the worn hinges creak.

Pausing a moment you wait to hear footsteps but they never come. You allow yourself a small smile before opening the medicine cabinet, it wasn’t often you could move about without him noticing. You grab the bottle of vitamins and inwardly curse at the small click the cap makes as you remove it.

You decide to take a double dose, surely if you’re this sore and exhausted a little extra nutrients would be harmless. Besides, you have bigger issues to deal with. Speaking of issues, here he comes.

The bathroom door opens fully to reveal your sardonic captor. “Feeling a little under the weather?”

“Crazy what a life of imprisonment will do to you.”

Chrollo frowns; to this day you can’t read the authenticity of his actions.

“Darling, I’d hardly consider you a prisoner. You have all the freedoms I grant you.”

You hold your tongue. It didn’t take long for you to realize ill responses towards Chrollo always left you in the negative. He was a leech, always eager to suck up any emotion you donned him.

Disregarding his bait you dump two pills into your hand. As you raise your palm to your mouth, impatient to get your healing underway, you notice the once gel shell has taken on an almost chalky coating.

Maybe there was something wrong with the bottle? Now that you’d come to think of it, since starting this new batch you’d been feeling off. Though you hadn’t been made aware of any recalls.

Unease settles into you, making home comfortably into your amygdala. With abject horror you’d come to understand your current situation.

“You- You’ve been…drugging me?”

Chrollo leans against the doorway, seemingly studying you. His vacant stare only confirming your suspicions. When he doesn’t respond you realize he’s trying to coerce you into a more emotional reaction.

Sensing your trepidation he decides he’ll have to bait you further. “I didn’t want to have to succumb to such drastic measures, but you just wouldn’t give in to me any other way.”

His words seep into your mind and you’ve come face to face with yet another insidious revelation. The bruises on your hips, the soreness in your legs; you’d always been clumsy, but forgetting how your injuries came to be was never a fault of yours.

Before you have time to stop yourself the open bottle leaves your fist and your spewing an array of curses directed at the man wryly smiling at you.

Chrollo eats it up. Always so gluttonous for your inner turmoil. How special he was to be the only one to witness your world crumbling around you. Your tears a divine performance for which only he was privy to. The animosity, confusion, and terror only a testimony of your devotion to him. How dear you were to him, if it wasn’t for your sanctified portrayal of pain he wouldn’t have to inflict such psychological wounds upon you.

[kazefiend]

Tags: Violence, Murder, Gore, Fucked up Dynamics, Dark Themes, Corruption, Dark Romance, Patricide, This Relationship is Probably Toxic as Fuck, Revenge. I listened to Happy Birthday - The Birthday Massacre while writing this. That pizza place is a real place in my city I thought it would fit. Ronin keeps dating women with different shades of blue eyes. I worked really hard on this I know it's not x reader but I love my lil oc.

Synopsis: Karina Park's birthday has never been a worthwhile event until now.

Word Count: 2225

This was probably the first time Karina's birthday had felt worthwhile.

The dive bar pizza restaurant had been their first stop, a delightfully macabre establishment where every menu item paid homage to horror classics. Karina had dressed for the occasion in a black coquette sundress and kitten heels, perhaps overdressed for the venue, but she wanted to make an effort. After all, as a writer who rarely left the apartment except for necessities, this was a special occasion. The way Ronin's eyes had darkened appreciatively when he saw her made any social anxiety worth it.

They shared an Alfred Hitchcock-themed pizza while Karina sipped cocktails named after Stephen King novels, each drink making her slightly more pliant, slightly more willing to let go of her usual rigid control. When she fretted about the cost, Ronin's drawl carried that dangerous edge of possession that always made her shiver: "Nothin's too expensive for my darlin'." She made mental notes to find ways to pay him back.

Now she found herself blindfolded, her hand clasped tightly in his. Their fingers were laced together, and his thumb stroked rhythmically across her skin – a gesture that had become both comforting and conditioning. Every time she felt anxiety spike, he would stroke her hand like this, training her body to associate his touch with calm.

"Got oonnnneee last surprise," he had told her, his voice thick with excitement. "A special gift that needs some preparation."

Her mind raced through possibilities, each more twisted than the last. Something romantic? Something grotesque? Knowing Ronin, probably both. The rational part of her brain, what little remained untouched by his influence, acknowledged there was always a non-zero chance this could be the night he finally killed her.

The terrifying part was how that thought didn't terrify her anymore.

He had rewired her brain so thoroughly that death by his hands had become an acceptable outcome, maybe even an honour. It was evil, what he'd done to her psyche, but it was evil born of devotion. He had broken down her defences and rebuilt them in his image, creating a love that was as destructive as it was deep.

The familiar scent of blood and decay hit her as they made another turn. "Are we in Purgatory?" she asked, referring to the infamous alley where they had met face to face.  Where she had given herself over to the devil.

"Lookit you," he practically purred, squeezing her hand. She could hear the grin in his voice, feel the excitement radiating off him in waves. "Not even needin' to see to know where we are."

His pride in her awareness sent a warm flush through her body – another carefully conditioned response. She had learned to crave his approval, to find pleasure in the darkness they shared.

She felt him step closer, his breath hot against her ear. "You've come so far, darlin'. Remember when smell of decay used to make you faint?" His free hand traced her jaw, touch feather-light but promising violence. "Now look at you, standin' in the belly of hell like you belong here."

"I belong wherever you put me," she whispered, and felt his grip tighten possessively.

"That's right," he growled. "And I needja to stand right here all pretty for just a minute."

Karina stood perfectly still, hands clasped in front of her like a porcelain doll on display. Without sight, her other senses heightened – tracking Ronin's movements through sound. Metal bins clanged as he dropped their lids carelessly to the ground. His breathing changed, becoming heavier as he dragged something substantial across the alley. Whatever it was, he positioned it against the wall she faced.

The blindfold came off abruptly, and she blinked repeatedly as her denim blue eyes adjusted to the darkness. What came into focus made her breath catch in her throat.

A man sat propped against the wall, thin frame draped in an orange jumpsuit, head covered by a burlap sack.

"I present to you," Ronin announced with theatrical flair, yanking off the sack, "the one and only Jon Park!"

Time seemed to freeze as father and daughter locked eyes for the first time in a decade. His deep brown eyes widened in terror as he struggled against his restraints, desperate sounds muffled by the gag. His once-black hair was now streaked with grey, but she would know that face anywhere – the face that had haunted her nightmares since the night he murdered her family.

The air left her lungs in a silent rush. They stared at each other like deer caught in headlights, neither able to look away. Ronin observed her carefully, reaching for her trembling hand. His familiar touch anchored her, thumb stroking across her skin in that conditioning gesture she'd grown to depend on.

"How?" she finally whispered, voice barely audible.

"A ton of pulling strings, darlin'," Ronin replied, pride evident in his voice. "Angel helped a lot with her connections." The crowbar in his free hand caught what little light filtered into the alley. "What happens next is up to you. Wanna talk to him? Bash his head in? Or you can watch me in my element."

A decade of suppressed rage bubbled to the surface as she stared at the man who had destroyed her life. He'd murdered her mother, killed his own sons, and would have killed her too if teenage rebellion hadn't kept her out that night. Without his actions, her life might have been normal. She might never have ended up falling madly in love with a serial killer.

She closed her eyes, took a steadying breath, and when she opened them again, a soft smile played across her lips. "I want you to show me how much you love me." The gentle tone of her voice contrasted sharply with the brutality of her request.

"Oh fuck baby," Ronin's grin turned razor-sharp as he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "My pretty lil' princess of rot, it would be a pleasure to display my love all over these decayed walls."

He crouched down to eye level with her father, maintaining that predatory smile. "Hey old man, not really a pleasure to meetcha, but I'm your daughter's boyfriend. Probably your worst fuckin' nightmare, right?" The bound man tried to respond through his gag, producing only muffled sounds. "You're thinking 'look at this kid, he looks like a bad boy,' right?  Gonna pick her up on a motorcycle with no helmets and drop her off after curfew. I'm so much worse, you have to fuck up pretty bad for your daughter to date a serial killer. Thankfully, she's passed divine judgment on you, so you don't have to think about it for long."

A soft chuckle escaped Karina's lips, unsure if Ronin was being intentionally entertaining or if this was just his natural flair for the dramatic.  Did he toy with all his victims like this?

"See, you wanted to kill my rotten princess," Ronin continued, rising to his feet with fluid grace, "and I decided my life woulda been worse if you did. You being alive hurts her, so I gotta fix that."

Her father's eyes were wild with panic, his screams reduced to desperate whimpers behind the gag as Ronin wound up his swing. What followed was as elegant as it was brutal, a sickening crack as metal met bone. Karina watched, transfixed, as each strike landed with devastating precision. This wasn't his usual quick work; this was art, performed specifically for her. Every blow measured, every pause deliberate, crafting a symphony of revenge that sang through her bones.

Ronin looked feral, tongue poking between his teeth as he worked. His movements were almost dance-like, each swing of the crowbar sending crimson patterns across the brick walls. She could see the raw power in his arms, the way his muscles flexed with each impact – a grim reminder of the strength he possessed, the same strength that could reduce her to nothing if he chose. But instead, he channelled that destructive force into this gift for her. In this moment, watching him reduce her tormentor to a pile of gore, Karina understood with perfect clarity why she loved him. He was destruction incarnate, and he had chosen to destroy for her.

His laughter echoed through the alley; that same unhinged sound she remembered from the night they met. It should have terrified her, that mad cackling punctuated by the wet sounds of metal tearing through flesh and bone. Instead, it felt like a love song composed in violence. The body slumped sideways as the hook end of the crowbar transformed what was once her father into an unrecognizable mass of shattered bone and torn flesh.

This was love, she thought, watching him orchestrate this destruction with the same care he used when stroking her hair or kissing her forehead. In his violence, she saw devotion. In his cruelty, protection. He was destroying the source of her nightmares with the same dedication he showed in soothing them away. The indescribable gore before her was his gift, drawn from the very pits of hell where he reigned supreme.

Ronin's movements began to slow, his breaths coming in heavy pants as he surveyed his handiwork. Blood dripped from the crowbar in steady drops, creating a rhythmic soundtrack to match his gradually calming heartbeat. 

He turned to Karina, and the look in his eyes made her breath catch. This was Ronin at his most primal; covered in blood, high on violence, and completely devoted to her. His usual playful smirk was replaced by something darker, more possessive. This was the face of a man who had just torn someone apart with his bare hands, and would do it again in a heartbeat if she asked.

"Happy birthday, darlin'," he drawled, his voice rough from exertion and laughter. "Was it everything you hoped for?"

The remains of her father lay in a twisted heap against the wall, unrecognizable now as the man who had haunted her nightmares. Ronin had erased him not just from life, but from form itself. It was a complete obliteration, a total erasure of the monster from her past.

Stepping carefully around the growing pool of blood, Ronin approached her. His boots left red footprints on the concrete, marking his path to her like breadcrumbs in a twisted fairy tale. He stopped just inches from her, close enough that she could smell the metallic scent of blood mixing with his natural musk.

"You're so beautiful when you watch me work," he murmured, reaching up to cup her face with a bloodied hand. "Like a goddess of death, all silent and serene." His thumb traced her bottom lip, leaving blood in his wake. "Tell me what you're thinking, princess. Tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours."

The way he looked at her; hungry, possessive, riding the high of violence, made her whole body tingle with a dark electricity. His blood-soaked form should have terrified her, but it only drew her to him more. This was Ronin in his purest form, the monster he truly was, laid bare just for her.

"I love you," she whispered, the words carrying the weight of everything she couldn't articulate. How do you thank someone for destroying your demons? How do you express gratitude for such beautiful violence?

The crowbar lay forgotten on the ground as he pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. The blood on his hands was cooling against her skin, marking her as his in the most primal way possible. She couldn’t help herself, couldn’t stop herself from pressing her lips to his with desperate intensity. He responded immediately, one blood-stained hand sliding to the back of her neck, gripping her hair possessively. The metallic taste of blood mingled with their kiss, marking this moment as uniquely theirs.

Beautiful and brutal in equal measure.

Ronin kissed like he killed; with complete dedication and masterful precision. His other hand dropped to her waist, pulling her flush against his gore-soaked chest. She could feel his heart hammering against her own, still racing from his earlier exertion. The wet fabric of his shirt pressed against her dress, soaking her father’s gore through to her skin.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, his eyes were wild with a cocktail of violence and desire. "Fuck, darlin'," he growled, voice rough and low. "The way you kiss me after I kill for you..." He pressed his forehead against hers again, sharing the same air. "Makes me wanna tear the whole world apart just to see that look in your eyes."

Behind them, the cooling remains of her father served as a silent witness to their twisted romance. Blood slowly flooded the alley floor, creeping toward their feet like a dark blessing. This was their version of love; born in violence, baptized in blood, and sealed with a kiss that tasted like death.

[doggernaut]

5, 9, 17!

Thank you for these asks!

5. What's something you learned while researching a fic?

Good question! I'm always looking up little random things, like flight times and locations of things. But big things I've learned? I wouldn't say I have any special knowledge I can pull out about a specific topic due to fic research. Not in the way I remember random details from old New Yorker articles about the history of the disposable diaper, for instance. Huh. I did do a some research about East Coast surfing and tides when I was writing we'll make out and take a mouthful of the summer time, since I'm only familiar with West Coast beaches. But I avoided going into too much surfing detail in that fic.

9. How did you get into writing fanfiction?

I mean, if you want the real answer, it's when I was seven and was mad because I'd finished reading all of Beverly Cleary's Ramona books and my dad suggested I write my own Ramona stories. But I didn't really get into it until like 2006, when a group from the old Fametracker boards decided to write a round robin Baby-Sitters Club fic and I signed up to write a chapter. I took a long break and then wrote a few vey short Parks and Rec fics in 2011 or so, then took another long break before I fell headfirst into the Check, Please fandom. With both Parks and Rec and Check, Please, it was simply because I had ideas that I couldn't stop thinking about. (RIP to the super angsty Parks longfic I never ended up writing but still lives rent free in my head.)

17. What is something you recently felt proud of in your writing?

This is a hard one because writing has been hard lately and I haven't felt like I've written much to be proud of. But I really like this banter from my most recently posted chapter of If I'm not too much for you, then sign me up. (Which ... I really need to buckle down and finish the next chapter...)

Jack raised an eyebrow and Eric knew a chirp was coming. Was it possible for an eyebrow to smirk? Because that was definitely what Jack’s eyebrow was doing. “Didn’t take you for the type to stress about carbs, Bittle. You know, since you’ve written multiple books devoted to dessert.” “I don’t, usually,” Eric said. “But two weeks of nonstop travel does have a way of bringing out my worst habits, and I think it’s safe to say that some things need to change in the new year. I don’t need grilled cheese from the late night room service menu as a late night snack every night.” But grilled cheese was always better when you didn’t have to make it yourself, and it had been so easy to fall into that habit. “Probably not,” Jack agreed, “but don’t go too crazy. You probably should figure out a better balance of carbs and protein, but if I hear that you’re working on a salad cookbook I’m going to start to worry.” “No need to worry, I just realized I can’t remember the last time I ate a green vegetable. Don’t tell my kids; they’ll be thrilled if this becomes a trend.” “I don’t know, I think it would be kind of fun to let them know the truth about their dad,” Jack chirped. “I don’t think Sam and Lizzie would mind eating grilled cheese every night. I could totally sabotage your efforts to ever get them to eat a vegetable again.” “You wouldn’t!” Eric gasped in mock horror.  “Nah,” Jack said. “But I do have some extra tubs of protein shake mix from one of my sponsors. I’ll bring one over when we’re both back in town.” “Oh my god, what did I do to deserve this?” Eric said with a laugh. “You know what? Fine. Bring all the protein powder. Maybe it’ll inspire my next dessert. I’ll call it the Zimmermann Special.” Jack bumped Eric with his shoulder. “You’re punchy tonight. I like it.” “Well, somebody ordered dessert drinks after we drank that bottle of wine,” Eric retorted.  “Somebody demanded a taste of my drink with the excuse of quality control.” “Oh, hush. I told you when we ordered that I couldn’t decide. You said I could try yours,” Eric reminded Jack. Then, realizing they’d walked several blocks and he hadn’t been really been paying attention to where they were, he glanced at the map on his phone. “I think I’m this way,” he said, nodding in the direction of his hotel. Jack’s was two blocks over. “I’ll walk you the rest of the way,” Jack said. 

[loquaciousquark]

quark plays bg3 again [11/?]

I always do the hag's quest first to get the rapier for Tav, though I didn't discover until run 5 that you can save Captain Grisly. I unironically think Aradin is really attractive, and this quest as a capstone to Rolan's development is one of my favorite NPC sequences in the game. The new Lorroakan entrance cutscene is great, and while this fight happens too early in Tav's canon, the post-fight conversation you can have with a dead-Cazador-Astarion regarding Aylin's dissatisfaction with her vengeance is wonderful.

Gale's relationship to Mystra is immensely fascinating, and while I think the in-game portrayal of Mystra is simplistic and unfair, I really enjoy delving into it outside of those limitations. I was likewise very frustrated on my first playthrough that a rogue Tav can't interact specially or have any interest or ties to the city's Thieves Guild. That led to my decision of Tav historically being too bad a thief to get in, which informed a great deal of her characterization. I do headcanon that she knew Lady Ague when they were children, and that they have a complicated friendship that I'll someday write about.

I love the (purposeful or not) implication that Astarion positioned himself between his siblings & Tav during the night attack. The conversation variant where he tells you about the year of horror is perfectly devastating. My Oskar quests have ranged from "easy as anything" to "I'd rather tear my teeth out than do this again," but luckily this run went pretty well. They also finally fixed it so that he gives you a portrait of the character speaking to him, and it's a repeatable dialogue, so Tav & Astarion both got portraits this run.

The Sarevok > Orin quest sequence is one of my favorites in the game, and I love Orin's breakdown/Bhaal's takeover when you reveal her father/grandfather tried to have her mother kill her. I don't really want to play BG1 or 2, but I would like to see playthroughs of them someday.

The House of Grief is tough tough tough, no matter how many times I play it. Tav always comes out with a Liar's Heart (boo), the Viconia fight is a nightmare, and watching Shadowheart be able to save her parents is very bittersweet for her. I do wish both Mystra and Selune had been able to have an in-game presence equal to the majesty and terror of Shar here; for as much as Selune is supposedly her opposite and equal, Shadowheart's turn to her is very minimized and even more rarely acknowledged. I don't think she even says one time that she's actively worshipping her now; the closest you get is a dialogue from her in the temple saying "In another life, I might be making an offering to Selune right now." I wish that turn had been made more explicit than a hair dye job when it came to the actual religious implications.

I love the Water Queen's temple singers and listen to them every time. I also rob their vault absolutely blind every time in devotion.

The entire Cazador sequence is an emotional landmine. I really love how well they convey Astarion's fear, lack of planning, and singleminded focus throughout all his ambient dialogues. Somehow I completely missed the dormitory wing on my first playthrough, but I've gotten it on the rest, as well as the many puzzles and hidden treasure rooms sprinkled throughout.

The conversation with Godey is awful. The conversations with Sebastian and the children are likewise awful in a different way, and the romance dialogue where you can point out that in another life, he'd have led you here instead of that pretty clearing in the forest made me literally clutch my chest the first time I saw it. His pain and resignation when you push him and he confirms, "I would have killed you," are deliciously agonizing. The emotion of the slaughter & the grief afterwards are painful and perfect every time.

The conversation line after where he mentions the sun being the price of freedom was my first clue that Larian was not going to let him keep the tadpole's protection, and it's still painful on replay. I understand the cost of it, and I know why it had to happen, but it grieves Tav (and me) that he has lost something in order to secure his freedom, even if he's willing to pay the price. That said, the graveyard scene remains vulnerable and sweet, even if I personally ick a little at the dirt, and his open happiness the next morning gets me right in the heart every time.

What a well-written, fulfilling, wonderful romance. I've romanced him five times out of six and would do it again in a heartbeat.

[theink-stainedfolk]

Writing Questionnaire Tag

Thank you for the tag @the-inkwell-variable @the-golden-comet and @wyked-original-writing

I have divided the questions between different characters.

1st set are for Yin Jian and Luo Xingchen from The General's Bride from beloved inkwell♡♡

1. If you could kill someone with zero consequences, would you do it?

Jian: "No. To take a life, even without retribution, stains the soul. There are other ways to undo a person without resorting to bloodshed."

Luo Xingchen: "Yes. But only if they deserved it and posed a threat to what I’ve sworn to protect. Mercy can be weakness in the wrong hands."

2. What kind of crimes are okay to do, in your opinion?

Jian: "Crimes of survival-stealing bread for the starving, trespassing to escape danger. Laws are not absolute; their worth is measured in justice, not in their mere existence."

Luo Xingchen: "Breaking laws that don't make sense. Sometimes rules exist only to control, not to protect."

3. Instant ramen or fancy ramen - which is better?

Jian: "Fancy ramen, of course. The care and time spent crafting each element speaks to the devotion of the chef. I don't know what Instant ramen is. Though I admit, I've never tried the instant variety. Should I?".

Luo Xingchen: "What the hell is Instant ramen? "Fancy ramen is fine for a special occasion, but when you're starving in the middle of nowhere, a quick bowl of Simple Ramen is unbeatable. Besides, it's less pretentious."

---

The 2nd set is of Liang Wenqing and Jin Tao from The Ghostly Aria

1. What location is always considered a home to you?

Liang Wenqing: "The opera house, despite its age and decay. Its stage, its back halls—every corner breathes with the history of my ancestors. I was born into this tradition, and even though the world is changing around me, the opera house feels like the only place where I am truly myself."

Jin Tao: "Home for me has always been the small, cluttered office I keep at the precinct. It’s not grand, but it's where I make sense of things. It’s where I can think clearly, even when the city around me is changing faster than I can keep up with."

2. Do you enjoy traveling with company, or alone?

Liang Wenqing: "I prefer being alone, especially when I’m on the road for performances. There’s something about traveling by myself that helps me focus on my art. But when I perform, I am never truly alone—the voices of past singers and the ghosts of forgotten opera fill the empty spaces around me."

Jin Tao: "I prefer traveling alone. I find that company often distracts me, especially in a city like this where every street corner is full of people pushing their own agendas. I need to observe and think—when I’m alone, I can truly see what’s around me."

3. How many landmarks in your world have you visited? Were they fun? Horrifying? A place to remember?

Liang Wenqing: "I have seen many of the grand buildings of the city—factory chimneys rising like iron giants, the bustling markets, the riverside where the smoke of industry lingers in the air. But the only landmark I truly remember is an old, crumbling temple I stumbled upon when I was young. It was a place of both beauty and horror—whispers in the wind, shadows that seemed to move. I’ve never forgotten it."

Jin Tao: "I’ve seen many parts of this city—factories, bustling marketplaces, the wharves by the river. But the one place that sticks in my mind is a narrow alleyway near the edge of the industrial district. I stumbled upon it while chasing a suspect. It was dark, filled with the smell of smoke and oil, and the sounds of the city seemed muffled there. It was a place that reminded me how far we’ve strayed from the old world. Not a fun place, but one I’ll never forget."

---

The 3rd set is for Alva, Ames, Corey and Winter from In Monochrome

1. What brings you the most comfort?

Alva: “The quiet hum of the coffee shop in the morning. When everything’s calm, and there’s no rush, that’s when I feel at peace.”

Ames: “The smell of paint on canvas, especially when it’s fresh. The moment when the first stroke of a new piece touches the surface—that’s when everything feels right.”

Corey: “Being wrapped up in a cozy blanket with a good book and a cup of tea. There’s something about being in my own little world that makes everything seem okay.”

Winter: “Being outside in the cool air, especially when it’s dusk and the light turns golden. I love that feeling of the world settling down, just before night falls.”

2. Do you enjoy the warmth of the sun?

Alva: “I do, but not too much. Just enough to warm me up when it’s chilly outside. It’s like a gentle reminder that things will be okay.”

Ames: “I prefer to paint in the quiet, but I do enjoy the soft warmth of the sun through the studio windows. It feels like the light is bringing my art to life.”

Corey: “I don’t mind it, but sometimes I feel like the sun is too much. It’s bright and intense, like everyone’s watching. I prefer the quieter, softer days.”

Winter: “The sun’s warmth is great, especially after a long, cold day. I like to just lie there, soak it up, and forget everything for a while.”

3. What’s your favorite meal?

Alva: “Anything with pasta, especially a rich, creamy Alfredo. There’s something comforting about the way it melts in your mouth.”

Ames: “I like something simple, like warm bread with butter, something you can savor slowly while you’re thinking. It doesn’t need to be fancy, just real.”

Corey: “A classic grilled cheese sandwich with tomato soup. It reminds me of childhood, of being safe and taken care of.”

Winter: “I’m all about a hearty stew, something with root vegetables, meat, and thick broth. It’s warm, filling, and something that sticks with you all day.”

---

I'll tag @finickyfelix @willtheweaver @leahnardo-da-veggie @illarian-rambling @winglesswriter @paeliae-occasionally @thecomfywriter @drchenquill @corinneglass @seastarblue @frostedlemonwriter @vesanal

[cillians-sweetheart]

𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓾𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 ☣︎ Chapter 28

Description: Johnathan Crane x Patient Reader. An 18 year old girl suffers from a mental disorder that Dr Crane takes an interest in, but It isn't just the disorder that catches his eye. Their love becomes so strong it drives her dangerously mad... more mad then she or him could ever imagine. 

ROMANCE + HORROR + SMUT STORY

No Batman and not everything about crane that's mentioned is correct to the actual character in DC.

TW: Violence, Sexual Content, Alcohol/Drug Use, Gore, Mental Illness, Parental Issues, Smut, Murder, Extreme Kinks (dom/crane, blood, choking, hair pulling, spanking, age gap, toys, dub-con and daddy kink) and Mention of Abuse, Assault and SA.

Not all warnings shown will be used in this exact chapter! Bold warnings are some to be expected throughout the chapter below!

I had woken the next morning to Johnathan's gentle hand petting my hair while he starred down at me while I slept. I rolled onto my back and looked up and into his eyes. He took a black ribbon from next to him and began to tie it into a strand in my hair. Making a perfect bow.

He showed a softer side of him in that moment I didn't see often.

"My little girl..." he whispered as he continued to stroke my hair. "Come on, come with daddy" he said as he stood up from the edge of the bed holding his hand out. I took his hand as he pulled me up. Johnathan grabbed me a silky robe from his dresser as I stood up to cover myself in.

"Where are we going?" I asked softly as he led me through the apartments halls.

"I want to show you something." Johnathan grinned as he brought me to the living room. He fell onto the couch and I cuddled in next to him. He took the televisions remote and flicked the TV on. A man from the Gothams News Channel came on the screen.

"Just this morning, all criminal regards towards Arkham Asylum have dropped. It's come to our attention that Ms Y/L/N has been found dead in her car, which had sunken in a river far west of the city. Investigators say it was aneither suicide or a motor accident."

My eyes darted to Johnathan. We were safe now.

"How.."

"It wasn't so hard to steal her keys you know" He smirked.

"Was she there the whole time?"

"No, I had to move her the other day to somewhere she could be found. And it looks like it worked."

"You did all of that on your own?"

"I had a little help but yeah. I did it for you my sweet girl."

"Oh I love you daddy" I reached for his face and kissed his cheek over and over.

"You know.. when I was a boy, my mother would give me a black ribbon each time I succeeded in something. And today I believe we succeed." He ran his hand down my hair looking at the ribbon he tied in it. "She'd always tie it on my wrist.. but I found it would be more beautiful in your hair."

"What happened to your mother?" I asked laying my hand on his thigh.

"She neglected me as I turned 5" he said as if it were normal. "She wasn't a good woman, same as your mother. And now they will never hurt us again my baby." He took my face in his hands, pressing our foreheads together. "All of these people.. they will never hurt you, hurt us, again. We can get away with anything. We are free, and the police are off us. No one can stop us now." He kissed my nose. "If anyone wants to hurt my girl again, we will take them from this world just as fast as they entered. Torture them with the fear they caused you."

I laughed and felt an overwhelming love take over me. My beautiful crazy husband had my heart.

"You're so sweet"

"You think?" He smirked pulling his face away.

"Oh yes, no man has ever been so protective and devoted to me before."

"Is that so?"

"Mhm" I nodded.

"Well.. why don't you go in the bedroom sweetheart. I wanna make you feel special." I smirked as I stood up and left to the bedroom. Soon after I got up Johnathan did too. His big strong arms took ahold of mine as he closed the door and pulled me into him. "Will you do something for me?" He whispered with our lips pressed together.

"Yes"

"Hm?"

"Yes daddy"

"In the bathroom is an outfit. Go in and put it on for me." He released me from his hold and I went into the bathroom closing the door. Johnathan on the other hand sat on the bed and leaned his back up against the head board with his arms crossed. In the bathroom, I saw the pile of black clothing folded on the counter. I was instantly in love.

I came out of the bathroom with my hair tossed to the side, still with my bow. The black silky nightgown hung over my body, it was so short my cheeks peeked from the bottom, revealing the little matching thong that came with it. And lastly the black stockings that reached up to my knees with little black bows on the rim of them. Johnathan already knew what it was since he bout it, but his eyes lit when he seen me in it like he's never seen it before.

"What's with this so early on in the day?" I asked approaching along side the bed. Johnathan's eyes scanned up and down body while he unbuttoned his shirt.

"I just.. wanted to do something for you baby, because of our good news."

"Oh? Like what?" I bit my lip, smirking.

"Why don't you come here and find out." I got sat onto the bed and crawled on my hands and knees to him. He patted on his lap and I sat myself down with my knees either side of his hips. His big hands groped my breasts and rubbed down my sides to my hips. He groaned, "You look so sexy... daddy's good little girl" I melted into his seductive words and his rough touch on my sensitive body. Johnathan's hands came back up my body and to his shirt which he now completely unbuttoned. My eyes trailed down his chest as it became more and more exposed. I ran my fingertips along the hair on his chest, making me throb. I could feel his eyes watching me as I grew more aroused just looking at his body.

Johnathans hands began to go back down my body, coming up under my little gown. He planted a hard smack to my bare cheek making me moan accidentally. He groped, squished and smacked my butt until I felt the poke rubbing against my panties. I could feel the wetness in my panties building as he gridded himself against me. It wasn't completely hard yet, but getting closer.

Johnathans hands left my ass and he began to undo his pants. I felt my legs getting weaker as his erection sprung out.

"Touch daddy." He demanded. I looked at him for a second with a grin then back down. I drew circles around his tip with my finger then slid it down to fit it all in my hand. I slowly stroked and rubbed up and down while watching his every twitch. But Johnathan was watching my face, I could tell. It made him throb just seeing how intrigued I was in touching his growing cock.

After a minute of me stroking him he said, "Turn around'. I was confused as of what he meant at first but then lightly sat up and moved so my back was to him.

"Like this?" I asked softly sitting on his thighs.

"Yeah.." He lifted my gown. "Just like that.." His hand slid under me as he used his finger to rub me through my panties. My hips squirmed as he touched me so gently yet so good. Then he took the fabric and moved it aside, running his finger along my soaked slit. His touch was better than anyone's in this world. Not even I could make myself feel as good as he did to me. "Why don't we take these off" I giggled as he dug his fingers into the thongs straps and pulled them down to my knees, then ankles. Johnathan's hands gripped onto my hips and he pulled me back against him. I stood on my knees, hovering over his cock while my back was against his chest. "Sit." He held the base as I went to lower myself on. I winced in pain as just the tip stretched into me. Johnathan held onto my waist pushing me down. It still was sore and sensitive from last night.

I whimpered, "I-I can't do it"

"Yes you can, come on baby"

"It hurts" I whined.

"You're almost there." I squinted my eyes as I forced myself down. Finally as my hip touched down on his I tried to relax. The pressure deep in me was all I could feel. I felt it pressing and poking every inch of my insides. It wasn't the most comfortable thing at first but I grew to it while it grew in me.

Johnathan reached over to his nightstand where he opened the drawer pulling something out. A vibrator. My eyes widened.

"Where did you get that?"

"I got it for you.." He buried his head into my neck as he flicked it on, pressing it against my clit. He didn't even give me time to react. I jumped and moaned out. My breath instantly increased and my walls clenched tightly around him. He kissed my neck as I screamed and moaned, feeling the pleasure from his cock and the vibrator. I jumped so slightly on him getting that increase of sensation but he stopped me. His other arm wrapped around me holding me down against him. I was desperate to feel him.

"Please!" I whimpered.

"Shh baby just sit still"

"Please daddy!"

He increased the intensity of the vibrator making me moan out again even louder. I tried again to buck my hips but his grip was too strong.

"I'll fuck you once you cum on my cock. So if you want it you better hurry up." He began to move the vibrator up and down my clit. His voice was so low and seductive it made me closer just hearing it. His hand moved up ripped down the gown letting my breasts be exposed. He kissed and sucked on my neck as he pinched my hard nipple. I could hear him quietly groaning from my pussy pulsing and clenching around his cock.

I now felt very close as I got louder and my movements became uncontrollable. It all came so quickly. I was screaming his name while I shook, squirmed, jumped and squirted on him. He then finally let me ride him while I was finishing.

He turned off the vibrator and threw it aside. His pants were soaked from me but his cock was still throbbing for more. "Turn around" He commanded. I lifted myself, turned, and sat back down. Johnathan moved himself a little lower on the bed while I held onto his bare chest. His hands came up to my waist while he pounded his hips into me. My legs shook profusely as I did my best trying to ride him. He starred at my tits as they bounced when he thrusted and I stared at his chest and abdomen. I couldn't stop myself from leaking all over him; But he liked it when I soaked his clothes. That's why he always kept them on.

With a few final thrusts he moaned, slamming himself as hard as he could into me. I thought he finished in me but he pulled out and grabbed my hand. He wrapped my fingers around the thickness of his cock as his head fell back. I began to rub very fast with a slight twist of my wrist. "Fuck Baby..." He moaned. Then it came out dripping down the sides and onto my hand. A lot of it came out.

As it began to go soft I looked at him while I licked it all off my fingers.

[tribunbabeuf]

Hello Babeuf! What did you think of your parents? How did they treat you? Is it true that you lost many brothers and sisters during your childhood? What were their names? And what about your wife and children — how much did you love them? Haven’t you thought about making peace with @serpentofotranto?

After all, both of you adored your wives, were deeply devoted to them, and loved your children very much. You also lost many siblings when you were young. On top of that, you were devastated when you lost some of your own children. And didn’t you once tell Augustin Robespierre that he ate soup like a sickly child? That must mean you were close at some point — close enough for him to know your wife and kids, right?

It’s really a shame your political relationship fell apart. Try to reconcile — maybe things could go better this time. Besides, he did offer to help you become richer, even if he went about it clumsily.

Here is quite a strange message — it mingles naivety, tactlessness, and perhaps a kind of goodwill, albeit clumsy and simplistic. If you knew my character better, and the deceitful nature of Fouché, you would understand that we are utterly different and that there is no possibility we could ever get along.

My parents' names are Claude Babeuf and Marie-Catherine Anseret. They had the typical character of Picards. My father was first a ploughman, then enlisted as a soldier before deserting. He was nicknamed "the Thorn." He later became an employee of the royal tax farms. My father loved me deeply, as he did my brothers and sisters, but he mistakenly believed that violent discipline was the best way to instill education. He was wrong on this point, but that does not lessen the love and devotion I have for him. He was a man of merit, a hard worker whose life was harsh. It is thanks to him that I developed my fascination with fiscal matters — I owe him so much, and I still weep for his loss. Yet I swore never to raise my hand against my children, unlike my father, who believed in such methods.

My mother came from the same poor background as my father. She is a very wise woman. I hope she will be well cared for after my execution.

As for the loss of brothers and sisters, it was, alas, very common among poor families, and even among wealthier ones — though they were spared malnutrition, unlike us. I was the eldest surviving sibling. My brother Antoine François, born in 1758, died after just two months. My twin sisters, Marie-Catherine and Marie-Thérèse Rose, born in 1779, lived only three days. My little brother Adrien-Joseph, born in 1762, died four years later. There were, sadly, others... This, of course, broke my parents’ hearts. But unfortunately, such tragedies were common in our era. Only my brother Jean-Baptiste, my sister Marie-Anne Gabrielle, and I reached adulthood.

My wife, Marie-Anne, has been a blessing from the day I met her until the end. She has always done so much for me, never complained. My children are the beings I have loved most in my life. My first daughter Sophie — such a lovely creature, for whom I had so many plans — left us too soon. Emile, my little fanfinot; my other Sophie, so sweet with her brother, died because of the populicide laws of Boissy d'Anglas — I learned of her death in prison with horror. My son Camille, so fragile, holds a special place in my heart, and little Caius, whom I shall never see grow up. It is painful to leave them; in a way, I have failed, but somehow, I sacrificed myself for them. Poor Emile, who so often saw his father arrested; my son Camille, already ill, saw his mother dragged away by the police and didn’t see her again for three weeks. I hope they will have a better future now that I am soon to die.

But you see, I fail to see the connection with making peace with Fouché. Has he been devastated by the loss of his children? Yes — as any parent would be when they outlive their offspring. Does he love his wife? He is not the only one to do so. I do not meddle in his marriage, though I can confirm he is, indeed, a good husband. As for myself, I love my wife — and beyond that, Marie-Anne has been a blessing in my life. Shortly before marrying her, so certain was I that she would be my spouse, I told my lawyer Mouret: "I advise you not to be too sensitive to the pleasures of your age. Love makes those who feel it pay dearly, and often, the moment one kneels at the altar is the one that decides the fate of an entire life. Don’t be too angry with circumstances, but never cease to respect yourself." That is advice I consider vital if one wishes to marry the right person.

As for the claim that I said Fouché eats soup like a sickly child — I was merely confirming what @bonbonrobespierre said about him. And I can testify it's true. It was both awkward and highly comical to watch. But don’t mistake that for friendship. When I work on my articles, I am so focused that I often continue writing even while eating. At that time, Fouché needed my writings… It is true that he knew my wife and children, for they never left me, except when I was imprisoned.

But let me tell you about the kind of empathy he had for them: when I was once again imprisoned, this time in Arras, and my little Sophie was dying of malnutrition, while my family was starving, my sons Emile and Camille went to see Fouché — and he gave them only ten livres. Emile wrote to me that it wasn’t "the generosity of my friends" that kept them alive. When I saw them again, they were in a dreadful state. With friends like that, who needs enemies?

As for what you call his "clumsy attempt" to help me — what he proposed was nothing less than trying to corrupt me, to turn me into the valet and parrot of Barras.That was out of the question. Just because Fouché decided to become the lackey of every regime that came along — even to the point of absurdity, as with his behavior under the Bourbons — does not mean I should do the same. And let’s be clear: it wasn’t an offer to help me; it was an attempt to silence me. Think about it: the sum he proposed to me during our last conversation — had he given just a tenth of that earlier, even 60 francs, to Emile and Camille, my daughter would likely still be alive.

Moreover, you speak of mutual family losses as if that should bring us together. And what would that achieve? I’ll tell you: nothing at all. We are not the sort to wallow in self-pity, especially when it’s clear we are enemies. And besides, what happened to us has happened to many others. If we were to follow your logic, then Albertine Marat would no longer despise Charlotte Robespierre simply because both women lost their brothers.

Although Charlotte Robespierre was not a bad woman, she did at times behave rather strangely.My wife even believes she once saw her at Guffroy’s place, back when I was working for him after the death of her brothers—though we can’t be certain . We do know other things about her, as many of us do, but there's no point in dredging up that time.

Likewise, the patriot Le Bon and that thief Guffroy would suddenly stop being enemies just because they both have wives and children.

So no — there is no possible reconciliation. Neither he nor I want that. We each have better things to do. I prefer to speak with true patriots, while he is too busy with his schemes alongside Talleyrand.

Gracchus Babeuf

Reddit : In fact @serpentofotranto remarried in 1815 — I learned of it from my prison cell in Year V. It is unfortunate that I so often hear of such matters from a source I cannot trust to speak truthfully. Still, I see no reason he would lie about this. *A pause, a moment’s hesitation.* My condolences on the loss of your first wife. I know how dearly you loved her, and how profound your bond was. But let me speak plainly: this does nothing to diminish the contempt I hold for you — nor, I suspect, would you expect otherwise. In fact, it suits us both.

[l0nlyc4nnib4l]

Want to write mine introduction again~

You can call me Loss or J, I first opened this blog to stalk my crush (that is now my boyfriend @n0stalgicv0id ) I got inactive due to all the harassment i received from people not understanding that all I do with my partner is consensual (yes, the stalking part included) we are into hard kink, i don’t expect you all to understand, but at least respect us since we are two consenting adults.

Premises made, let’s keep going with presentation; the body is 20+, but me as an alter I am younger. I use he/him pronouns and I am gay. I like videogames,specially visual novels, manga, piercing, tattoos,creepy and horror stuff, gory things. And, of course, my boyfriend which I am really devoted and possessing to~

As I said before I’m into hard kink, such as CNC,Blood,Knife,Stalking etc…I am a sadomasochist, but with my partner I tend to be more on the sadistic side.

This blog is still for him, dedicated to him. So i post thoughts on him, what i want to do to him and other gore and dark stuff.

So if you don’t feel comfortable: just block me

Minors can’t interact obviously and I have general dni. I’ll block if I feel uncomfortable or like you are stepping on my boundaries.

I am always open to casual friendly chats, for share thoughts or interest. Just know I am only interest romantically and sexually to my darling~🩵