#they should be forced to see as they break down screaming and crying how pathetic they've always been.

[thr4shit]

The accusations are ridiculous, and my coworkers are whining children who would rather throw a tantrum at a productive employee than do their own measly, simple work.

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Hold Me Down

Rafe Cameron x gf!reader

Summary: Rafe overstimulates you for the first time. That’s it.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, p in v, creampie, squirting, choking, headlock, Rafe is mean as always, mean!dom rafe if you squint, porn without plot

WC: 2k

A/N: I HAVE RETURNED🗣️🗣️ I really missed rafe. I have a couple requests and some works in the making but they’re plot heavy so they’re taking me a while, in the mean time here’s this to satiate my horniness (and yours)

Tagging my rafe babes @hauntedfawnn @rafescorpsebride

You really should have known better. Perhaps your most perverted fantasies should have stayed, just that--fantasies. Because in practice? Not quite as practical. Especially not with the boyfriend you had. You knew Rafe was holding back for your sake, you had only been dating a month, afterall. But the freak in you wanted more, you wanted him to take you and use you in any way he desired. He wanted to ruin you. And boy, were you in for a fucking ride. The look of pure malice and excitement in Rafe’s eyes should have been your warning, but your insatiable need for him was stronger than your judgment.

“Ah—! Rafe!” You were a fucking mess, eyeliner and mascara stained your cheeks, your pretty lipstick was long gone, tears of pleasure stained your pretty face as you writhed on Rafe’s bed. His tongue was going to be the end of you. He had already made you come once and you were so close to your second. You were already crying and pleading with him to let you take a break. He ignored you, his eyes shooting you a glare as he shoved his tongue into your cunt. And you couldn’t go anywhere, not with the way he was holding down your thighs on the mattress. “Please!”

You didn’t know what you were begging for. Mercy? Sweet release? Maybe both? You were absolutely delirious, incoherent, all you could focus on was the delicious drag of his tongue as he rubbed circles on your clit with his thumb. It was so overwhelming, how he wouldn’t let up. Rafe all but made out with your pussy, moaning and groaning at the intoxicating taste of you. He loved the idea of making you delirious, making you beg on the verge of tears, it made him incredibly hard. 

With a handful of your ass, Rafe used his tight grip to rock you against his mouth, his tongue slipping in and out of your hole in a way that had you seeing white. Rafe knew you were done for when you tried to drag yourself up the bed, away from his demanding mouth, your back lifting off the mattress as you turned into a sobbing mess. 

You whined as you weakly grabbed at his grown out hair and attempted to pull him off you. Rafe didn’t care if you couldn’t take it, this is what you asked for. He dragged his tongue over your swollen clit and you nearly screamed. 

“Rafe please. I mean it.” You choked out, digging your nails into his scalp. The burning sensation of your nails only riled him up more. He was determined to fuck you until you cried. And he hadn't done that quite yet.

“What? What are you crying about?” He mocked you with a laugh as he half-assed wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He crawled up your body, propping himself up on one of his forearms. The sight of you so desperate and pathetic when he hadn't even fucked you made his cock twitch. “You asked for it, did you not? You wanted to act like a whore, now you can get fucked like one, hm?” 

He grabbed your jaw and forced your head up to meet his eager mouth. The taste of you still on his tongue made you moan against his lips. His mouth was so demanding, the kiss messy and sloppy, like him. When he pulled back, he grabbed your legs and folded them until your knees were touching your chest and your dripping cunt was on full display for him. He prided himself on his work, the way he left you so wet and ready for him, it rushed blood to his face and bumped adrenaline through his veins. You didn’t protest, and simply braced for what was about to come your way. 

The stinging feeling of his cock was always such an indescribable feeling. He always sank so deep, it made you dizzy. Rafe didn’t waste any time, he drilled into you like he didn't care about the integrity of your body. You slid up and down the mattress with each drag of his cock, and to say that you were a sobbing mess was an understatement. 

“Fuck baby, you’re so pretty like this.” His lips were parted, his baby blues swallowing you whole as he watched your eyes roll into your head. He breathed out a laugh, leaning down to grip the headboard, nearly folding you in half. As if he wasn’t deep enough. The way you cried at the feeling of his cock stretching you like this made him delirious. “Look at you, taking my dick like it was made for you.”

He planted his other hand beside your head, groaning in delight at the feeling of your pretty nails dragging down his back, surely to leave angry marks he would admire later. You were holding on for dear life, unable to do anything but just take his cock as he split you open. You didn’t know what you loved more, the feeling of him damn near bruising your cervix, or the way he would do absolutely anything to have you like this.

“Please Rafe! Feels so good—Ah!” You whined as he gripped your throat. You swore you saw God right then and there. You didn’t know what this strange and tingly feeling deep inside you was. You had never felt like this before. And with him hitting places so deep inside you, you didn't even know existed, you were scared of what your body was going to do. “R-Rafe, wait. Wait please, I don’t—Oh, my—” 

Rafe squeezed your throat tighter, his cock bruising that one spot over and over until you saw white, gushing all over him. You were shaking and sobbing incoherent words Rafe couldn’t understand as your juices coated both of your thighs and dripped onto the sheets underneath you. Shocked, Rafe looked down to where his cock was slipping in and out of your dripping hole with even more ease, and he laughed in disbelief. 

“Ohh fuck, yeah. Squirt all over my cock just like that, fuck.” Rafe wasn’t one to spill himself this quickly, but that alone made him almost lose it. He grabbed your hair, forcing you to look down, though your vision was still blurry, you could clearly see it. “Look at that, doll. Look at the fuckin’ mess you made.”

You couldn’t even form a thought, let alone speak. There wasn’t a single thought in your pretty head. Shocks of electricity still coursing through your body as he never stopped fucking you, driving you to the point of overstimulation. But just like that, he grabbed your arms and flipped you on your back, leaving you breathless and empty. You gasped for breath as you planted your face on the pillow. You were praying for just five minutes to recompose yourself. But you prayers were crudely denied as Rafe grabbed a hold of your hips, unceremoniously dragging you down to meet his hips. You whined.

“No, please Rafe! I can’t!” You cried as you desperately tried to run away from him. He scoffed, reaching to grab your hair and forced you down on the bed. 

“Nah, don't give me that shit. Don’t fuckin’ run away. You wanted me to use you, right? You wanted to be my little fuck doll, hm?” He rasped into your ear, using your hair to press you down on your cheek instead so you could speak, but all you could let out was a whine. “You know what you have to say if you want it to stop.” 

He gave you the choice. You could use your safeword, and you knew he wouldn't be mad if you did. But you would be mad at yourself if you used it. You wanted him to push you to your limits, send you to a completely different universe then bring you back. You truly didn't want to stop. Not really. You simply shook your head as you lifted your ass up for him. The sound that left his chest then was damn near animalistic.

“Fuckin’ knew it. You love takin’ my cock, don’t you doll?” A low moan left the back of his throat, using your hair as leverage as he slammed back into you, wasting no time in resuming his punishing thrusts. You were sobbing into the sheets in no time, soft cries of his name being the only thing you could say.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You chanted as you took his cock like that was all you were meant to do in this world. It was bruising, and agonizing his grip, and each delicious drag. It was so overwhelming and you loved it at the same time.

You couldn't say you were shocked at the fact that eventually your entire body was flat on the bed and his chest was pressed against your back, holding you down perfectly to feel each and every one of his erratic thrusts. He held your face down by your hair, muffling your pathetic cries as he used you like you were nothing more than just an outlet for his pleasure.

“Please Rafe. It hurts.” You choked out, gasping for air when you managed to turn your head to the side. It hurt, but in the best way possible. He was just so big, you could never get used to the sting of his cock. It was both too much and not enough at the same time. Rafe heard you, barely, but he heard you, and he scoffed, forcing your head back to look at him. 

“Cry for it, then.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he threw his arm around your neck, putting you in a headlock. He damn near caged you in with his big fucking body as he fucked you to tears. Your sobs filled the room as he drilled into you, his grunts of pleasure filling your ear. “Just give me one more, c’mon doll, I know you want to gush all over my dick.” 

It took maybe two, or three more drags of his cock to have you seeing stars. It wasn’t as intense as earlier, but you were a sobbing and shaking mess nonetheless when you came all over his cock again. Tears ran down your face again and you clawed your pretty manicured nails into his arm as you damn near spasmed into his grip.

“Fuck, baby, just like that.” He grunted into your neck as he rutted his hips against your ass, chasing his own release. He dug his teeth into your plush skin as he held you in place, forcing you to take his harsh thrusts. “Gonna fill you up. You want it, don’t you doll?”

“Mhm! Want it so bad Rafey.” You choked out, mouth falling open in delight as he filled you up, not stopping until his come leaked out of your abused hole. 

When Rafe unwrapped his arm from you, you immediately fell face first on one of Rafe’s pillows with exhaustion. You felt him shuffling around for a minute until he flopped down next to you. You lifted your head up to find him with his eyes closed and one arm behind his head. His face was flushed red and his short strands stuck up like he had just his hand through them. Your boyfriend was actually the hottest man on earth and you didn’t care if your body fell victim to his intensity and stamina. You slowly shifted so that you were laying your head on his bicep and he happily threw his arm over your back. 

“What do you want to eat? You feeling Italian or burgers?” Rafe asked you quietly, the tips of his fingers running up and down your back softly. 

“Italian.”

“Knew it. Gonna run you a bath so you can get all prettied up for me. So I can do this all over again after dinner, ‘kay?” That sounded like a perfect Saturday night to you.

[mommyownsmee]

About Ovulation and Breeding Kink

It's cruel, really.

This body, mine—so strong, so commanding, so utterly bent to my will-betrays me for a few days each month.

My control slips, replaced by this primal ache, this animal need to bury my fingers in soft flesh and pull cries from a throat that knows only how to obey.

I ovulate, and the world becomes a torture chamber. Every scent, every thought, every image is her-imaginary, of course, because she's not here. No submissive, no pliant little thing to ruin until she's nothing but a puddle of yes, Mommy and please, Mommy and don't stop, Mommy.

I press my thighs together, useless. My hands are empty when they should be gripping her hips, guiding her onto me, showing her how perfectly she fits against the heat of my skin. My teeth ache to mark her, my nails to carve a map into her—territory, mine, claimed forever.

But there's no one to pin down, no one to fuck until she can't remember her name, no one to whimper "thank you" when I let her come.

It's pathetic, really. A Domme with no one to dominate, writhing in her own unsated desire. Ovulation is a sick joke. Nature, taunting me for not having a leash to tug, a toy to break, a good girl to destroy until she forgets how to breathe without permission.

It’s so maddening, this ache.

My body really betrays me, ovulation clawing at my control, filling my head with feral, obscene need. The kind of need that turns my mind into a constant reel of her—my submissive, my perfect little bunny—on her knees, begging me to take her, to ruin her.

I can almost see it, the way she’d look up at me with wide, needy eyes, knowing exactly what I’d do to her. Knowing she doesn’t get a choice. She’s mine. Her body, her mind, her pleasure—every part of her belongs to me. And I’d take it. Oh, I’d take it all.

I’d start slow, teasing her, watching her squirm, her thighs slick and trembling as she tries to hold still for me. I’d pin her wrists above her head, my [strap] cock grinding against her soaking cunt, not giving her what she wants just yet. She’d whimper, her lips parting to beg, and I’d shush her with a smirk, whispering how she’ll take every inch of me when I’m ready.

And when I finally slide into her, stretching her open, her moan would be a symphony, echoing through the room. I’d fuck her deep, my hips meeting hers with every thrust, filling her over and over until she’s a mess beneath me, tears streaking her pretty face as she sobs for more. My hands would grip her hips, pulling her closer, harder, until her body molds to me, made for me, made to take everything I give her.

I’d fill her pretty little cunt with my cum—so much of it she’d swear it’s real. Thick, hot, spilling out of her as I keep thrusting, pushing it deeper, watching her writhe as she feels it drip down her thighs.

I’d watch her walk naked through the house, her face burning with the humiliation of knowing she’s still leaking me, that no matter where she goes, she’s mine, marked and claimed. To let my cum run down her legs, painting her in evidence of who owns her. I’d follow her, watching the way her thighs quiver, the way her cunt clenches and leaks, desperate for me to fill her again.

In the kitchen, I’d bend her over the counter, her breasts pressing against the cold surface as I take her from behind. My cock driving into her soaked cunt, her moans turning to screams as I grip her hair and pull her back onto me, harder, deeper. She’d cry out my name, her voice breaking as she begs for more, her body shaking with the force of my thrusts.

And then, when she’s nothing but a trembling, fucked-out mess, I’d make her kneel. Her lips would part, her tongue flicking out to taste me as I guide my cock into her mouth. I’d thrust slowly at first, savoring the way her lips stretch around me, her throat swallowing me down. But I wouldn’t stay gentle. Not when she’s so eager, so desperate to please. I’d fuck her mouth until she’s choking, tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes glazed with submission as she takes it all.

When I’m done, I’d throw her back onto the bed, her body pliant, her mind wrecked. But I wouldn’t stop. I’d push my cock inside her again, deep and unrelenting, filling her until her cries are incoherent, until she’s shaking and pleading and losing herself completely to me. I’d tell her I’m breeding her, that every time I fuck her, I’m filling her up so deeply she’ll swear she feels it in her womb.

She’d cling to me, her nails scratching at my back, her voice breaking as she screams, “Please, Mommy, don’t stop! I need it, I need you!” And I’d give it to her, over and over, filling her again and again until her stomach feels heavy with me, until she’s convinced her body is mine to claim, to use, to own.

I’d take her to the brink of insanity, fucking her until all she knows is me. My cock, my cum, my voice commanding her. She’d beg to be filled again, tears streaming down her face as she sobs that she feels empty without me inside her. That she’s useless without my cock, without my cum dripping from her.

And I’d keep going. Because she’s mine. Her body, her mind, her soul—all of it belongs to me. And I’d make sure she never forgets it.

But instead, I’m here. Alone. Writhing in my own desperation, the fantasies burning so brightly they almost feel real. I am feral and furious, and wonder how long it will take until the craving fades. Until I can look at my bed and not feel the phantom weight of her body bent to my will.

Ovulation is a cruel joke—a reminder that I don’t have her here beneath me, crying for me, begging for me. A reminder of the leash I don’t get to tug. The perfect submissive I don’t get to fuck senseless until she’s mine in every way.

And I’m left to ache, my body burning with a need that only she could satisfy. My hands are empty. My bed is cold. And my fantasies are all I have.

I could cry. But that‘s not my role.

[ask-apostle-ghoul]

The wounds you cause will never mend... and you will never end

Trigger warning: contains mention of death, Apostle finally breaking down like he should have. (This is my attempt of a rewrite of Apostle's story, a bit of a new chapter to sort of write out the lore I had made with the Nihil and Seestor blogs (Which were run by a minor that lied about their age. No NSFW happened but still I wish to rewrite anyways because I wasn't proud of how Apostle was as a character. It was very OOC.) I'm adding a read more thing considering this is over 1.1k words. You guys are probably going to scream at me. :)

Light bell ringing sounded out in the silent halls of the chapel. Biscotti has been frantic all day, pupils narrow as he dashed down the halls. "Master? Master where did you go?" The cat pleaded, his head turning as he peeked into room after room. Apostle was nowhere to be seen. Hasn't been seen all week, actually. Where was he? Biscotti jolted and fur puffed up hearing the sudden jam and playing of an organ. "Of... of course...." The cat mumbled, brisky trotting to the main room of the chapel. 

There he was, shoulders taut, back hunched over, shirt open so Apostle can breathe through the gills along his ribs, torn skin around the gills showing the lack of use. Apostle was breathing heavily as he played, claws pressing keys and feet on the pedals as he played. It was a somber melody, but a loud one. A loud somber cry of agony.

Apostle's eyes stung with tears, the gills on his neck burning due to the salt of his tears. His hands were trembling, head spinning as he played his heart out.

"Master?"

Apostle's playing abruptly stopped, a tense silence rolling in like a fog. Biscotti hopped onto one of the front pews, observing how the red and blue light from the stained glass window shone down on Apostle.

"What... do you want cat."

His question was short, simple, yet angry. The feline chirruped and tilted their head. "I just wished to find you. You haven't been seen in days and Calynn has be-" 

"Calynn has been worried. I know. I know. I don't... I can't be near him right now." Apostle side eyed his feline, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. "Why not?" Biscotti wondered out loud. "You haven't eaten in days. You look like a canned anchovy all skinny with no meat." The feline remarked, staring at Apostle's thinner tail, the spine of it almost visible, the skin of the tail sagging. Apostle's cheeks were a little more sunken in, bags under his puffy eyes. "You're ruining yourself, master." Biscotti scoffed, clearly displeased. 

They were unaffected when Apostle turned around quickly, the ghoul glaring at the feline. "You could have told me! I was speaking to hallucinations this whole damn time and yet you done nothing?!" Apostle screamed at the feline, his hands trembling as he grasped his knees. "A demon was forcing me to hallucinate my dead husband and wife just so they could get any semblance of freedom and sneak out after slipping through a rift between here and hell! The husband and wife that I oh so lovingly thought were back were nothing all along?!" Apostle screamed, the chapel walls echoing his heartbroken outburst.

"Nobody was able to see it until recently, Master. You have to give yourself some grace with that." Biscotti's reassurances fell on deaf ears as Apostle's lips curled up into a snarl, his tail whipping back and forth, leaving some indentation on the wood of the organ bench he was sitting on. "Grace? When was I ever given any pathetic grace? You were able to tell when something was off yet and you had figured it out but neglected to tell me a single thing? That demon isn't innocent in this. There are no innocents in here, cat! All a lot of people, ghoul or human, have done was manipulate me and hurt me time and time again! I've hurt and harmed and caused so much damage to the actual innocents here! Luna, Lance, Omega, Calynn, my fucking sons! I-I genuinely thought they were back! I-I thought I was able to be happy again! I thought I was going to be able to heal from everything! I- I thought that we- I thought..." 

Biscotti observed how his master slumped over in the bench, holding his head in his hands and sobbing. An agonizing heartbroken sob coming from a lovesick and heartbroken man. Apostle has been holding onto grief and sorrow for years at this point.... ever since summoning the one to murder his stepchildren. It wasn't good for his heart, not at all. "You can't keep doing this to yourself master... You'll-" "I know. I know. I'll fucking die.... b-but at this point there's no other choice, is... is there?" Apostle questioned, his voice hushed like it were a confessional booth he was sitting in. His chest heaved, throat constricting as he started to stammer. "Maybe- Maybe it was destined. M-maybe Satan has some sick twisted humor in causing me so much fucking misery!" "Master no don't- You can't-" "Stress myself out? I know I shouldn't stress myself out but you fucking know what? Life seems to always find a fucking way here! That's all this fucking ministry is! Ordering me around to do shit, I do what I am asked to do but when I do I just get more punished! I'm just a fucking toy to the clergy! Some little plaything they can command like a mangy mutt!" Apostle's voice started to crack, a noticeable paleness in his skin as he rambled on, his gills opening and closing rapidly while he breathed as if it would save him from this drowning feeling. 

The sound of the chapel doors rattling didn't pass his mind, the way his hands felt clammy and he was struggling to breathe. "Master you need to calm yourself." The familiar urged, their eyes narrowing at the ghoul. Apostle stared down at his hands, fidgeting and twitching like a nervous child. Something didn't feel right at all. "Master... are you doing ok?" Biscotti quietly asked. "No... no I'm not..." It was Apostle's only response. Biscotti was going to speak and reassure his master, but the cat immediately got up when Apostle's eyes shut and his body landed on the floor with a thud. "Apostle!"

"Mmmm...." Apostle groaned as his vision came to. The chapel was quiet, no light shining through the windows. What... what happened?   Where... how long has he been here? His chest... didn't hurt anymore? Checking his phone which was nearby, there were over a dozen texts and calls from Luna, Calynn, Lance, everyone really. Once sitting up, the weight of a furry friend on his lap caught his attention. 

"I'm glad you're back. I wasn't even sure if it would even work. Are you in any more pain?" 

Biscotti asked, the cat's pupils dilated as they kneaded Apostle's leg. "How are you.... how am I able to talk to you anyways? What happened to me?" Apostle asked quietly, his nerves alight, his body trembling in what he can only describe as unease. "Well. Simple really." Biscotti chirped, grinning and hopping off Apostle's lap and sitting on the organ, wincing a little at the abrupt noise. "I am a familiar like you have always thought. But you don't know how I truly feed. Do you?" The feline asked. The ghoul carefully sat up, ignoring the soreness in the back of his neck. "No... not really..." A frown curled his lips and he rubbed his jaw, yawning and pulling himself up enough to sit back on the organ bench. "I figured. You never were one to ask questions. I'm a familiar, yes, but I feed more on element magic, but I only require a little bit of it to sustain. It's not harmful at all, think of it how an empath soaks up the emotions from people around him." Biscotti pawed at Apostle, snapping him out of his little daze. "Then... how are you speaking to me." Apostle questioned his familiar, pleading quietly to know what the hell happened. He was frazzled and in shock, but not in any pain. It was.... it felt strange... and it didn't sit right with him. 

"You couldn't communicate with me before simply because you couldn't. You're back from your heart givi-" "Why the hell are you dodging the question? Answer me." Apostle demanded, Biscotti avoiding the subject for far too long.

"Well... I can only communicate with someone unless they are a kit or child, pregnant with what you call a kit or a baby, or..." Biscotti's ears flattened and the cat's gaze went to the floor, as if heartbroken to know the answer. Apostle's anger faded as he waited for Biscotti's silence, and he reached out to pet his familiar. "And... what's the last one?" The ghoul asked quietly, voice wavering at the unsuspected silence. With a small sigh, or as close to a sigh as a cat could make, he looked at Apostle and answered.

"Unless you've died or have been brought back from the dead."

[uh-niran-really]

Lifeweaver x Symmetra - Refuge

Content: Satya finds out that Vishkar and Talon are connected, so she flees, seeking help from Niran.

Word Count: 3,100+

A/N: I wrote this as a Christmas gift for the amazing @orca-lw ❤️ They might not remember, but a while back they mentioned that they would like to see a fic like this, so I wanted to write it for them! ☺️ Thank you for always being so lovely to me when we interact! I hope you have the best day! ❤️ Happy Holidays!! 🫶🏻

Had she just heard that right? Vishkar and Talon working together? Satya pressed her back against the wall, hands covering her mouth, her mind wild with thought. She wanted to scream, to breakdown and cry. No one could blame her, she had dedicated her life to this company, just for them to be corrupt. Her superior Sanjay was taking a suspicious phone call, one she clearly wasn’t suppose to hear. Satya was just dropping by to drop off some paper work to him, when she happened to overhear the call.

“I can assure you, Vishkar and Talon relations are stronger than ever.”

She slowly slid down the wall, body trembling with fear. Talon was a terrorist level organisation, why were Vishkar involved with them? It didn’t make any sense, the company was suppose to help people! She was suppose to help people! Before she knew what was happening, she had already began to shutdown, mind trapped within an immobile body.

She was use to shutdowns, they weren’t out of the ordinary for her, but they did take time to get out of. If she worked fast she could recover efficiently. All she could ask herself was ‘why and how?’ Why was this happening? Why were Vishkar involved? How long were Vishkar involved? How did this start? A voice called out to her, it sounded distant, muffled..

“Vaswani? Are you alright?”

Anyone but him. Why did he have to notice her? She couldn’t answer him even if she wanted to, her speech was lost to her now, it could take a while to come back. Sanjay wasn’t a patient man by any stretch of imagination.

“Stop being childish and get up off the floor. We’ve spoken about this many times. It’s pathetic. Grow up, you aren’t a baby anymore.”

It was times like this she thought of Niran. He never treated her any differently when she had these episodes. In fact, he was only ever warm and comforting. For the most part she had learnt to pull herself from her shutdowns, thinking of Niran and the sweet words he would say, in order to help her through it. She pictured him now, desperate to break free from the hold over her body.

“Are you going to continue to act like a child, or are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

She took a deep breath, clearing her mind of stress. Her eyes glanced up to him briefly before looking at the paperwork scattered across the floor. She had to tell him something, she couldn’t very well tell him she overheard his phone call. She had to lie.

“I- I made a mistake with the paperwork Sanjay. It won’t happen again, I’m sorry.”

He rolled his eyes at her and muttered something about controlling her emotions, as if she could ever help her autism. She picked herself up, getting on her knees to gather the paperwork. He watched her, burning gaze fixed on her expression and how she was acting.

“Satya, you didn’t happen to overhear my phone call just now, did you?”

Her face remained stoic, but inside she was screaming. Every instinct told her to run, to get up and bolt, but if she had learnt anything from her time here, it was to remain calm to avoid suspicion. That was the Vishkar way, it seemed.

“Should I have? I’m sorry sir, my mind was otherwise occupied.”

That seemed to satisfy him, for now, but it wouldn’t be long before he figured her out. What would he do when he did realise she knew everything? Would he hand her over to talon? Would he have her killed and claim it was an accident? Would he force her to work for them? She excused herself, promising to fix the paperwork at once and have it on his desk first thing in the morning. She returned to her tiny company standard apartment. Four white walls, a small bed, ample storage. Home, at least it was. She wasn’t sure what to do anymore, so she did the one thing she could think of.

Call Niran.

“Hi Satya, what do I owe the pleas-“

“I don’t have time. Please be quiet and listen.”

“Well hello to you too.”

“Niran this is serious, I’m scared.”

She heard him rustle over the phone, most likely sitting up to give her his full attention. He remained silent, allowing her the chance to speak. Her lips trembled, paranoia starting to set it, she almost forgot he was there until he spoke again.

“Satya? Do you need help?”

“Yes.”

She heard him get up, and pace around his room, hearing the distinct sound of keys. From this she knew he was about to leave his apartment, probably to come and get her.

“Niran no!”

“What would you have me do Satya? You’re clearly terrified. I can hear it in your voice.”

“I can get out.. I just don’t know where to go..”

“Satya, dearest, you are ALWAYS welcome here.”

She refrained from telling him what was wrong, even if they weren’t monitoring her phone calls, someone could be listening. She didn’t know how deeply Vishkar and Talon were contacted, but she could only imagine the horrors. Safety was an illusion. How many people were connected? Were her neighbours aware? Were they listening? She had to get out, she was certain she could. She had to, she couldn’t stay.

“Satya? Are you still there?”

“Yes.. just.. thinking.”

He remained silent, giving her the chance for clarity. Whatever was going on had her on edge. It was so unlike Satya to be bothered by anything the company did. She was loyal, too loyal. Her convictions about Vishkar had started to waver lately, thankfully. She had began to open her eyes to it all, so he could only imagine what she must have found, in order to snap that perfect reality she had built in her mind.

“I’m going to leave, tonight.”

“Let me come to get you, please dearest..”

“No. It’s too dangerous for you Bua. What if you are caught? Your immunity only applies at the Arcology! You know this!”

“Satya, I’m worried about you. If I am to be caught, it’s worth it to make sure you are safe.”

She began to panic again and he backed down immediately, not wanting to terrify her even more. She couldn’t bear the thought of Niran being captured, especially since she knew Talon were involved now. They would surely kill him if he didn’t give up his Biolight, which she knew he wouldn’t.

“At least let me meet you on the train? You have my word I won’t get off. Just get on like normal.”

“I don’t like this.. what if I’m followed Niran..”

“If it makes you feel better I can meet you at the Arcology platform. When do you plan to leave?”

“I’m going to take the 6pm train, connecting via Kings Row..”

Niran glanced at the clock, accounting for the time difference in Utopaea. If he was quick he could make the train and travel to pick her up. The thought of Satya all alone and scared broke his heart. She wouldn’t like this though, not one bit. He would certainly get a lecture from her but he had to go, he couldn’t wait around doing nothing. He grabbed his coat, flinging it around his shoulders, stuffing his keycard and keys in his pocket.

“Satya?”

“Yes?”

“Be careful. I love you.”

——🪷——

She wasn’t sure if this would work, but what else could she do. A small bag was all she could take with her, a bigger one would arouse suspicion. She had considered setting up a teleport and taking a bigger bag through it, but what if she were caught? She’d never be able to explain it. It was too risky.

With haste, she stuffed some dresses and undergarments into a small rucksack. She looked around her room once more at all the things she wished she could take. Her many books, study aids, memories from the academy. A small box caught her eye and she took it immediately, placing it neatly on top of the clothes. Inside the box contained a pair of diamond earrings, a beautiful gift from Niran years ago. She would not leave those behind. She didn’t care for the materialistic side of the gift, it was expensive sure, something he brought her back during their school days. It possessed something of better importance. Sentimental value.

Once ready, she hoisted the bag on her back and snuck out to the corridor, down to the main transport hub. She was cautious, fear threatening to swallow her up at any moment, yet she did her best to remain calm. She was careful to avoid people, not wanting the attention it would bring. She was about to enter the transport hub when someone stopped her.

“Satya, is that you?”

She froze. She didn’t have time for this, the train would be pulling into the station at any minuet. Slowly she turned around, but relaxed a little at the sight of an old friend. Suraj, one of her other roommates from the academy. Her face softened somewhat, breathing shallowing to a much calmer rate.

“Oh, Suraj. It’s been a while hasn’t it.”

“I thought I recognised you. You’ve grown so much! I hear you’re working under Sanjay Korpal now, wow what an honour.”

Sanjay. Her stomach twisted and she felt sick. It took everything in her power not to wobble at the mention of his name. She still couldn’t believe that Vishkar was working for Talon. Did Suraj know? How many people were aware? She didn’t know for sure, but she didn’t trust anyone, not anymore.

“Yes. I am.. enjoying his methods of work.”

The words felt wrong. She couldn’t work under him anymore. Not after finding out. Satya didn’t know much about Talon, but she knew enough. Had she been indirectly working for them this whole time? Hard to say, but it certainly was possible.

“Are you taking a trip?”

“Y-Yes. I am.”

“Anywhere nice? I heard it’s rare to get granted leave from Korpal, you must have really earned it!”

Her mask was beginning to slip. She couldn’t find the right words anymore. Quickly she glanced at the transport hubs screen, noticing the train was arriving into the station. A perfect opportunity to cut the convocation short.

“I am sorry Suraj, my train is arriving..”

Satya bowed her head and turned to leave, walking a few paces before she heard quickened steps behind, a figure walking comfortably alongside her.

“I’ll accompany you to your train miss Vaswani!” Suraj smiled. It seemed genuine.

“Oh thank you but please, there’s no need…”

“Nonsense. An excuse to talk to you further, like the good old days!”

They continued on towards the platform. With each step her stomach twisted more and more. She was starting to think she could trust Suraj, but what if she couldn’t? What if he was working for Talon too. Her mind was frazzled, but still she attempted to hold a normal convocation, as best she could. They reached the platform, the train patiently waiting for her.

“This is my train.. thank you for walking with me-“

“You’re going to see Niran, aren’t you?”

Her breathing hitched. He remained somewhat cheery, but his tone sounded serious. Instinctively she brought her hands up to stim, nerves getting the better of her.

“He lives at the Arcology now, right. You’re traveling to see him? Why else would you be heading to Europe?”

“Suraj.. I..”

“Are you in charge of getting his Biolight? I suppose you would be the one he trusts most.”

She started to slowly hyperventilate, trying her best to remain calm, but failing miserably. Suraj’s face softened a little, sensing her panic. He threw his hands up in protest, waving them around like a small child, shaking his head profusely.

“Forgive me Satya!! I didn’t meant to upset you! No nothing like that!! I was just making a joke about the Biolight. It’s great you get to see him. After all these years you two are still inseparable!! You know, back at the academy, I always hoped you two would end up together.”

“LAST CALL FOR THE 6PM TRAIN TO KINGS ROW!” The Tannoy boomed.

Suraj gave her a somewhat sympathetic smile. It scared her. What if he said something? What if she was caught? What if the sent Talon!? What if they captured Niran?! Her mind screamed at her, telling her he would go straight to Sanjay. She didn’t want to hurt an old friend but she was terrified, if she had to kill Suraj, she would.

“Please..”

“I won’t tell a soul, take care Satya. Please tell Niran I said hello for me?”

With that he offered her a small smile and a quick wave, before turning on his heel and leaving, hands stuffed in his pockets leisurely. Satya exhaled. Lucky for her, the platform was clear. She had just enough time to board the train before the doors shut. The engines roared to life, and slowly the train pulled out of the station.

——🪷——

Trains were so unpleasant for Satya. They were often crowded, noisy and quite filthy. She set about looking for an empty private car, so she could be alone in her thoughts. The train journey wasn’t particularly long, she was thankful for high speed trains and the Arcology’s fantastic transportation hub. She hardly felt a thing as the train moved, despite the rapid speeds it took, but even so she would prefer a seat.

Without warning the door to a private carriage swung open behind her as she passed it. Two big arms wrapped around her, one on her waist binding her arms in place, a hand on her mouth so she couldn’t scream. Satya was then pulled into the carriage quickly, no one noticed a thing, and if anyone had they didn’t care.

“Mmmmphh!!” She attempted to scream through her assailants hand.

“Satya. It’s me, you’re safe.”

She was released from the hold rather quickly. Her body whirled around, practically tackling the man that stood before her into a huge hug. He lost his balance and the two fell to the floor, though he did his best to hold her up.

“Niran!” Satya burried her head in the crook of his neck, breathing softly, nerves and tension from the day already fading. “What are you doing here? I told you to stay put!”

“Satya, I couldn’t leave you like that. You sounded so terrified. Please don’t be angry with me dearest. Understand that I couldn’t sit back and wait.”

Her body melted into his. He was warm, comforting, safe. Once again, his arms wrapped around hers and he listened as she began to sob, all the stress from the past couple of hours releasing. He stroked her back, played with her hair, voice soft as he cooed her into comfort.

“Shhhh, it’s okay Satya. I’ve got you. Oh my sweet thing, I can only imagine what you’ve been through..”

She began to sob harder, cries getting louder as she let it all go. She was safe with him, as ironic as it sounded. He was a criminal, wanted in seventeen different countries, twenty if he got his way. Yet she knew, somehow being with him was infinitely better than staying at Vishkar.

“Oh love.. That’s my girl, let it all go. Oh dearest I really do hate seeing you so upset.”

He was gentle, always. His soft voice and sympathetic touch was just what she needed to feel better. Soon she sat up, allowing him the chance to do so as well. The pair stood, Niran offering her a hand to help her, before taking a seat and patting the space next to him.

“Do you wish to talk about it? We can remain silent, or even talk about anything else.”

Niran never could stay silent for long, so asking him to do so was like asking the impossible. Silence wasn’t what she needed right now, too much and she was left in her thoughts. She wasn’t sure she trusted the train however. She’d feel better once they made their stop in Kings Row. She didn’t trust that the train hadn’t been bugged. There could be listening devices anywhere, perhaps even cameras. She didn’t want to risk it. Instead she rested her head on his shoulder, hands neatly folded on her lap, gently stimming.

“Tell me about your day.. Niran.”

——🪷——

“Talon?! You’re sure?”

Since connecting at Kings Row, this train felt infinitely better than the last. She was quietly confident that they hadn’t been followed, and that this train wasn’t bugged. She knew the lengths Vishkar would go, especially now she knew Talon was involved.

“Yes.. I heard him say it Bua..”

“How troublesome..”

Niran wasn’t expecting this type of news. He listened carefully as Satya recanted everything that happened and how it made her feel. Niran as always was sympathetic towards her. He loved her, very much. Listening to the details of what she had heard was hard, yet he waited until she was finished to speak.

“Satya, with every fibre of my being…” He takes her hands in his, looking into a beautiful golden irises. “With every ounce of strength I have left... I will protect you from them, till my last breath. I love you..”

There was no reason to doubt him. Everything was changing. Life as she knew it, the home she once knew and loved, gone. Her routine, her work ethic, her beliefs. All gone. She didn’t know what to do anymore. One thing that did not change however was him.

“They’ll come for me.. at the Arcology, I suspect..”

“Let them. I’m not losing you again.”

“Bua-“

She felt warm lips on hers. Unexpected but not unwelcome. Just as quickly as they had been placed there, they were gone. Niran blushed and looked away, embarrassed. This wasn’t the first time they had kissed, certainly not the last, but each time gave her butterflies.

“Forgive me my love.. my emotions got the best of me there..”

“I don’t mind.. never have.”

She smiled, it was a soft blink and you’ll miss it, type of smile. Niran always noticed those though. He wasn’t surprised that Talon were involved with Vishkar, they were both evil monstrous organisations. He did feel for her though, she shouldn’t have found out this way, though he was glad she did. Satya lay down, resting her head on his lap. They would be at the Arcology soon, they would be safe. They could formulate a plan together, move forward together, be together. No matter what was to unfold, one thing was certain in her mind.

“Bua?”

“Yes dearest?”

“I feel safe with you.”

[ghostieeez]

Crybaby ౨ৎ˚₊

✧.* Content: Ghostface x fem!reader, 18+ minors DNI, sensitive!reader, stalking, obsessive behavior, dubious consent, cnc, bdsm, spanking, knifeplay, blood/blood kink, pussy slapping, praise kink, degradation kink, crying/dacryphilia, vaginal sex, rough sex, creampie

✧.*‎ Summary: Ghostface breaks into your house and has his way with you.

✧.*‎ Word Count: 2k | AO3 Link | Divider Cred

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ - ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ꜱᴇɴꜱɪᴛɪᴠᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ + ᴍᴇᴀɴ-ɪꜱʜ ɢʜᴏꜱᴛɪᴇ, ꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴇxɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ :)

It was kind of hazy how you got in this position. 

One second, you were getting a glass of water from your kitchen, then the next you were being chased through your house by a man with a knife wearing a Ghostface mask. You tried to fight, plead, beg your way out of it, but it was pointless. He overpowered you with ease.

Now, you were currently bent over his lap, hands tied behind your back, and panties pulled down. 

Your masked intruder brought his knife to the back of your knee. He pressed the tip of it ever so slightly into your flesh before he slowly trailed it up your leg, leaving a stinging cut in its wake. You couldn’t help the whimpers that slipped past your lips. Not only did it hurt but you were terrified too. Who knew what kind of sick things he was going to do to you?

“Please don’t kill me,” you said, probably for the fifth time that night.

He laughed in response and sank his knife deeper into your flesh. “But where’s the fun in that?” He flicked his wrist, slicing the blade through your skin. “I’ve been watching you for a while, sweetheart. Been dying to see what your insides look like.”

The pain from his blade and the fear caused by his words had tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You felt your lip trembling as you spoke, “P-please... I’m scared.”

“Awww, you poor little thing,” he cooed. “You should be.”

He dragged the knife across your thighs next and went to town leaving small cuts all over you. Some were deeper than others and started dripping thick droplets of blood. You squirmed, wrists tugging at the rope that currently bound them.

Suddenly his hand came down on your ass with a hard slap and your whole body jolted in surprise and pain.

He laughed at you again. “I wish you could see how pathetic you look right now.”

Your head hung shamefully. He was right, after all. Here you were, ass exposed, getting groped by a murderer. But the worst part of all... You were actually enjoying it. Something about his harsh words, rough treatment, and taunting voice had heat pooling between your legs even if you didn’t want to admit it. He slapped your ass another time, this time with a lot more force.

Next thing you knew, his knife was against you again. He dragged it under the curve of your ass before moving it to your pussy. You felt the cold steel brush against your clit.

“No!” You protested.

“Sshh,” he said. “Just take it like a good little slut.” He rubbed it against you, teasingly. “That’s it.”

“Ahh,” the quiet moan slipped from your lips.

“You like that?” He asked, moving the flat side of the blade in small circular motions. Yes, you did, but you kept your lips shut tightly. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing it. That is, until his other hand grabbed a fistful of your hair and he yanked your head back aggressively. “I asked you a question.”

In the most meek voice, you replied, “Yes, I do.” Him pulling your hair like that only further added to the heat building in your loins.

He scoffed at you. “What a dirty, dirty girl.” He pulled the knife away from your clit and you let out a disappointed whine. “A few minutes ago you were screaming and running away from me and now here you are, so desperate to feel my blade on that pretty pussy of yours.”

A warm blush spread across your face. As embarrassing as his words were, they were driving you wild. You rubbed your thighs together absentmindedly, wishing his attention was back on your throbbing clit. 

“If you want it so bad then beg for it like the slut you are,” he said. A few moments passed but you stayed silent. “C’mon dollface, I don’t have all night. Maybe I should just gut you and get this over with then, hm?”

The threat was all the motivation you needed. “Please...” 

He slapped his hand on your pussy and you let out a yelp. “It’s like you’re not even trying,” he sighed. “Be more specific. Tell me what you want.”

“Please keep touching me,” you said, hoping he’d be happy now. Instead you received another harsh slap. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the embarrassing words you were about to say. “Want to feel your knife on me again. It felt amazing. Pretty please?”

“Ah, that’s more like it,” he said and you sighed in relief when he resumed the movements with his knife, this time using the hilt. He rubbed it through your folds and it felt hypnotic every time it made contact with your clit. Your only wish was that he would go a little faster; his slow, teasing pace was downright torture.

Every once in a while, he would bring it to your entrance, barely dipping the tip of it into you, before moving it back to your clit. He repeated the action over and over, loving the way it made you writhe.

“You look damn good like this,” he praised. “Covered in blood, squirming like a mess. I can’t wait until I get to be inside of you.” 

“Mmm... Please... Need you so bad,” you whined, lust clouding your senses. He moved the knife to your entrance again and started to press it inside of you, going deeper and deeper. The stretch was painful but addicting.

“Feel good?” He asked.

“Y-yes,” you replied. “So good.” He pulled the hilt out of you and slowly sank it back in.

“I never knew you’d be so depraved,” he said, a deep chuckle bubbling from his throat. “Did you ever think you’d be begging for a killer’s cock like this? Moaning and whining like a whore while he fucked you with his knife? You’re so naughty,” he leaned down to your ear and whispered your name. A shiver ran down your spine. He knew exactly what his words were doing to you.

He kept thrusting his knife but his speed never increased. He was taking his sweet time with you. He was mesmerized by the sight of his weapon sliding in and out of your dripping pussy.

Minutes passed and your impatience only grew. Finally, you mustered enough courage to ask him, “Can you go faster?” Then he stopped moving the knife completely and you internally cursed yourself. You knew you shouldn’t have said anything.

“Why? Isn’t this what you asked for?” He spoke.

“It is, but-” 

“Then don’t be an ungrateful bitch,” His tone was a lot more cruel than before. “Just take what I give you and be thankful for it.” When he started moving again, he was somehow going even slower than before.

You let out a cry of frustration. Your pussy was aching for more pressure and his slow strokes were driving you crazy. You were feeling overwhelmed and couldn’t help when tears started to fall from your eyes.

“Please stop, I don’t want to do this anymore...” You said, voice breaking.

“Are you crying? You’re actually fucking crying? It’s so easy to get you worked up,” he mocked. “Maybe you don’t realize, but you don’t really have a choice tonight, sweetheart.”

In one quick motion, he pulled the knife out of your pussy. You didn’t have much time to be relieved because suddenly he was lifting you off his lap and throwing you over his shoulder. He gripped your thighs tightly to hold you steady. The pressure of his hand on your cuts stung like a bitch and had you wincing in pain.

“What are you doing?” You asked quietly, light sniffles coming from you. The thought crossed your mind that maybe he had gotten bored of you already and finally decided he was going to kill you.

Instead, he walked down the hall to your bedroom and threw you onto the mattress. You landed on your side. It was hard to maneuver yourself with your hands still tied behind your back, so you settled for glaring at him over your shoulder. Your eyes were puffy and tears were still streaming down your cheeks. He stared back at you.

“Fuck, when you look at me like that how can I even resist you?” He reached his hand toward your face and you flinched. But all he did was swipe his fingers across your cheek, wiping some tears away. “Aww, my pretty little crybaby.” His touch was almost tender. You couldn’t help but lean into it. The way he went back and forth between being sweet and being rough was like whiplash, yet you were obsessed.

His hand left your face and moved to tug your underwear all the way down your legs. Then he grabbed your hips and yanked them so you were face down, ass up, body fully exposed to him. He climbed onto the bed and positioned himself right behind you. He used his knee to spread apart your legs. He undid his pants and brought the tip of his dick to your pussy and rubbed himself on you.

“This what you want?”

The sensation had you arching your back and moaning, “Yes! Pleaseee, I want it so bad.”

With no warning, he buried himself fully inside of you in one swift move. You felt like the air had been knocked out of you. He was huge, you could tell. Your pussy felt like it was on fire as you stretched around him. 

His hips snapped back and forth, setting a fast pace as he fucked into you with no hesitation. It was much different from the slow, agonizing teasing he was doing earlier. Now he rammed into you with so much force and aggression. He kept slapping your ass and you loved it.

“You feel amazing,” he moaned. “Soooo tight. Wish I could stay in you forever.” His praise had your head reeling and his cock was reaching so deep inside of you it felt like you were being split in half.

“Mhmm,” was all you could say in response, too fucked-out to even form coherent thoughts.

“Did I fuck you dumb, little slut?” He said snidely. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Feels- unh- feels so fucking good,” each word was interrupted with a rough thrust.

Your words only caused him to move faster. His hips met your ass with each slam of his cock into your aching pussy. You were so close to reaching your orgasm. Your moans were getting louder and all you could do was babble curses and praise at him. His hand snaked its way into your hair, grabbing roughly, and he shoved your head down into the mattress. He continued to ram into you with no relent.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave and you were crying out in sheer pleasure. It only took a few more powerful thrusts until he was following suit and cumming deep inside of you.

He pulled his cock out of you and you missed the feeling of it immediately. You could feel his cum dripping out of your abused hole, the liquid slid down your thighs and mixed with the blood seeping from your cuts. He was moaning at the sight of it. Before you knew it, he was pulling out a camera and taking photos of you. 

You knew you should’ve been embarrassed due to how lewd you looked at the moment, but the fact that you looked good enough for him to take pictures had you feeling a sense of pride. He moved the camera to your face and snapped a few more.

“Mmm, so fucking perfect,” he said. “Y’know, I really was planning on killing you, but maybe I’ll keep you around a little longer, doll. That pussy is just too addicting.”

[ruvastuon]

Unconventional Gifting

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Story Warning: Mentions of burning people, sadistic behavior, and descriptions of body horror.

Much to his disgust, the air in his tent felt fresher than it had in months. How long had it been since his fingers had started to twitch again? With a renewed wave of irritation, the Sergeant stood up from his desk for the first time in days and decided it wouldn't be breaking orders if he stopped the fire from getting out of control this time. Since he was young, it had been the one thing that brought him joy. Back then, he would burn anything he could get his hands on, bugs, animals, or plants. It didn’t matter much. They all sparked a strange joy in his heart. That being said, there had always been something missing, some itch he’d never quite been able to scratch no matter how much he burned.

Then the war came, and he discovered the one thing he had failed to consider as a target: people. Unlike the other things he had burned, people tended to beg and plead. They might call him a monster, but at least he was aware enough to know that the sense of power he felt from their cries sated the desire he had been starving from. To date he had burned three-hundred and eighty-seven prisoners, with only one survivor who he would track down eventually, but the war was still young, and in what was proving to be a battle of attrition, the Sergeant could tell that he might even be able to push those numbers into the thousands.

“Is the area clear?”

His assistant exited the tent and quickly returned. There was fear in his eyes as the Sergeant stared down at him intensely. There should be several more prisoners, so the assistant wouldn’t have anything to fear unless he got on the Sergeant’s nerves.

“The troops have rounded up all the rats.”

A smile spread over his face at that. They had sent more pathetic mice to try and end him, but they were just providing him the entertainment that he craved. It was poetic in a way that he realized was probably sick.

“Well, then we can’t keep them waiting.”

Stepping out of his tent, the Sergeant felt a sharp pain in his chest and looked down to see a spot of red right above his heart that was quickly expanding. His assistant stumbled and grasped one of his eyes with a scream of pain. The Sergeant’s skin grew cold as an overwhelming sense of dread washed over him as screams of pain began emanating through their camp. His soldiers were the best. They wouldn’t have been taken out so easily, he couldn’t be taken out so easily.

Collapsing to the ground while clutching his wound, the Sergeant watched his assistant let out a final cry of agony as a green sprout began to poke out between his bloodied fingers. The Sergeant barely felt his own pain as he lay almost paralyzed on the ground, wondering how this had happened. As his vision began to grow hazy, he saw what looked like a living tree stepping towards him. He couldn’t understand what had happened, but he could feel in his bones that the thing was coming for him.

-Five-thousand eight-hundred and twelve, quite the high toll for someone so young-

The words sounded like a whisper of wind rustling through leaves. HE didn’t have time to contemplate what this creature was as a crushing pain passed through him and for the first time in his life the Sergeant began babbling incoherent pleas for his life for what felt like an eternity before his body stopped responding to his commands and he was forced to lay in frozen agony as his body was eaten from within.

…

“Hey Billy! MA was worried”

The Forest Guardian begrudgingly took his eyes off of his latest target. Owen was running towards him with a stupid grin plastered over his face like he wasn’t stepping over twisted bodies while covered in blood. This man… he needed to get his head checked.

Still, he meant well and seemed to be in functioning condition, so Billy didn't need to spare his attention just yet. With a wave of his hand, Billy dismissed his concern and turned back to the bodies with a smile of surprise. A field of violets had begun to bloom from the dead. It was well worth the three days he’d spent watching the tent through his rifle scope.

It never ceased to amaze him how people who had caused so much pain to the world always seemed to make the most beautiful flowers.

[some-pers0n]

Hey guys it's late and I've been thinking about that one part of Albatross in the guide a bit. Here's some sloppy writing I just cooked up that's basically the intro monologue to the actual oneshot. Take it.

Another year, another fruitless attempt to find another animus dragon for Lagoon to exploit. Another dragon with a gift that only few are able to possess, where they can make dreams come true and shape reality to how they please, chained and held down by a horrible, terrible dragon.

Albatross had been doing these tests for roughly a decade now. Once a year, young nobles and royals would come together on the shores of the Bay of a Thousand Scales, where they'd start the Talons of Power exam. Well, to call it an "exam" would be giving it far more credit than it deserved. It was more accurate to call it a screaming fest, where a bunch of rowdy dragonets scream and try to make sticks float or sand fly into their fellow peers' eyes.

It was the creation of Lagoon, his sister and Queen of the SeaWings. There was no doubt that she was desperate for a new, more palatable dragon she could use as an animus dragon. A dragon subservient and who would obey her every command. It was pathetic. He would know, he was forced into that role, and by the tides did he despise every second of it.

He paced back and forth along the beach, talons and tail dragging through the sand. This batch of dragonets were giggling amongst themselves, chatting away. They occasionally shot him looks. He could see it. They were judging him. They knew he was different. Strange and unnatural. For all that he's done for Lagoon, the only thing she's returned was mockery and spreading gossip.

Everyone knew about the incident. It was hard to find a dragon who didn't. It had haunted him since the day he made that awful mistake. One impulsive, seemingly innocuous cry of anger and desperation flipped his world upside down. A dragonet who simply wanted to be relieved of the torment of his sisters, now trapped around their talons all of these years later. He could do nothing. He could say nothing. Anything he did out of his own volition was seen as terrifying and unpredictable.

He was treated like an exotic pet by Lagoon. A wild animal that was kept on a short leash, one that would preform tricks and entertain guests when she desired it. Kept in a cage far too small. Yelled at for stepping out of line for even an inch.

What's worse is that he knew what he was capable of. He knew he could snap his talons and everything could go away. Enchant Lagoon out of existence, replacing her with a kinder version of herself. Have him be forgotten by the tribe and allow him to slip out and live a peaceful life of solitude. Something quiet and easy.

But, he was always haunted by ideas. Visions. Thoughts of bloodshed and violence. Where he would achieve some power fantasy. A sense of revenge and taking back what he deserved. Inflicting as much pain as those who wrong him as they've done to him. To go out with a bang. To break away from the chains he was held down by. To let his animalistic lizard brain take hold. He was a dragon. He was created to kill, pillage, and hurt. He was simply given the abilities to do far, far more than what a normal dragon should do.

He hated those thoughts. He hated how he liked to entertain the idea from time to time. He was disgusted. Appalled by how he could think of such things. He was better than that. He was civilized and responsible. He was not a monster. He would not be remembered as a dragon of destruction and harm, no matter how much Lagoon tries to tell him that'll be his legacy.

But, he couldn't be rid of it. He liked it, and that scared him more than anything. He knew how much grief and pain Sapphire had brought him, but he remembered those brief moments. He remembered seeing Sapphire flail. Hearing her screams. She was afraid of him. He felt in control at last. After all this time of being kicked around, he swiped back, and it was exhilarating.

He wouldn't succumb to these thoughts. He promised himself that, no matter what, he will be stronger. He will be better than his base instincts. He will be better than the animus dragons of the past.

He will be remembered as Albatross, the first SeaWing animus. Albatross, the builder of the Summer Palace. Hopefully, and he could only dream of this, but, Albatross, the tragic victim of Queen Lagoon.

Whatever his future may be, he knew he did not want it to be full of more senseless bloodshed. He wanted peace. He wanted to be loved.

[sanastrawberryy]

It would be great if the corrupts in TPC were Alice in Borderland card bosses, so here it is!!!1! I have limited ideas of them, so feel free to give your opinions on this

Dub - King of Spade

Nothing fits better for a final boss than a hellish Spade game! Dub is more than ready to crush the annoying little worms to dust, but perhaps he should have some fun first. Deathly notes from his guitar, the marvelous scenery made of blood and fire, and screams from his feeble victims, all like music to his ears, encourage him to go further, to kill, to destroy everything this world holds dearly. A wonderful villain as he is, can’t and will never succumb to anything, even if it results in his own death. As long as his present can be felt, he will not let any creatures block his path to fulfill his purpose from the start. He will torture those ants and pull every sense off them, like they did to him.

Ajaceare - Queen of Spade

A strong and brutal queen, beating any living organisms that dares to oppose her to their last breath. How thrilling would it be seeing those weak peasants trying to escape her grasps, trying to outrun bloodlusting monsters when they are being chased! Sometimes, she wonders, if they prefer just giving up and accepting their fates or having to run and fight for their lives for who knows how long the game would be. If it’s the second choice, she can be in this world and enjoy their suffering for eternity.

Cubic - King of Heart

Oh it’s going to be fun. The Heart games, the games dedicated to playing with one’s mind, manipulating and destroying one’s sanity, eventually leading to heartbreaking betrayals. Cubic is taking every moment of his time in the game drowning everyone in despair, both physically and mentally, watching them cry and plead and while enjoying it like a movie. He will bring their darkest sides to life, let it eat them from the insides until they’re nothing but a hollow shell, starting with him.

Lycanthropy - Jack of Club

What’s more interesting than watching the so called heroes pathetically trying to survive the games while holding onto each other? Lycanthropy will push them to their limits, force them to stick and use others in order to live. One mistake and they all fall down together, just as they wish! They would have to fight the animals, to solve the puzzles, to survive all the killing games, with a chain linking them together, unable to be freed. Then, would they finally break and let their selfish instincts win, or would they still holding their sick facade and push themselves down further the pit of painful deaths? You never know!

[symphonicsoul]

Where does it ever end, o creature of tainted starlight?

The nature of a nightmare is its predetermined ending. No matter how one may struggle, how much one may wish to set things right, this had all happened already. There was no choice here, just as there had not been a choice back then. She made his choices, moved his muscles back then. The parasite in the pollen, or magic, or whatever wicked strings she had so gleefully attached to his puppet arms.

Bewitched, he played a symphony not of his own making. No, he was not the Maestro of the Massacre; The sword in his hand was no baton, but a mere instrument. Moving along to a predetermined tune, a carnival as old as the world: senseless slaughter.

A doll only obeyed its master, no? Or, perhaps, that was merely what he so desperately wished to believe. Alas, the inner workings of one's mind were often the very harshest of judges.

You know... this isn't true, right?

Pilvi.

My little Pilvi. Hiding behind an array of masks like the terrified princeling you are. So pristine, so holy, you cut yourself away from your hands. Your hands that you used to kill.

But they are your hands, my darling sweetie.

Are you afraid of them?

The ground parts, like a slavering maw of a sleeping beast. It shakes, it breathes, it cries out with all the voices of those that your hands have put down. The verdant witch's laughter ceases - drowned out by a chorus of low moans. Pained, pathetic things, and all their hands.

Clawing at your white fabrics. Clothes that have tasted blood, but we both know this is not about the corporeal, hm? It's all about that sniveling little princeling, still thinking he can hide away so deep the gore never stains him.

Mother's precious boy, oh, what would she think if she saw what you had become?

There is no ability to run, to fly, the ending is predetermined. The hands rise from the earth, peeling flesh on reddish bone. They clutch, and they claw, and they pull. Dragging, dragging you down, down, o demon of tainted starlight, so that you may never again see the sky against which you blasphemed. You crawl, but they strangle you, your claws were never strong enough to dig in. And so, they drag you on coarse rock until your nails break and the flesh tears from your belly. The Soil is here now, at the precipice of the hell you created - it beckons you in.

Cry, weep, scream, little princeling - the end arrives all the same. Bite your apple and lay to rest your wretched fairytale, Snow White, let the dust and dirt fill your lungs and the rot caress your skin. At the horizon of your blurring vison, His skeletal black wings part, painting the sky a deep vermilion. Maybe it should have been you who fell asleep.

White Devil, you fleeting fog, in lightless silence you will die like a dog.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ He knows in his heart that it's only a matter of time before he comes for him.

He knows.

A voice he doesn't know is speaking to him. A deep voice that rumbles up from the cosmos themselves. Maybe it is one of Lord Bahamut's messengers. Maybe this is what the Dragon Lord himself sounded like. Maybe it is the voices of the soil calling out to him... because yes he can hear them too.

He couldn't always. Not when he was a child. He didn't know what to listen for. Not when he was a teenager. Still the voices had never spoken to him.... but when he was nearly a man - when the darkness came to swallow up Windaria just as it had Misterica before...

When the Great Dark came once more, and he watched his new found family shift to the form of glimmering sands only to take up the golden gun into his own hands. That was when he heard them. That was when he felt their power. He might not have been soilborne but his ears could certainly hear them.

Ever since he felt their force eat away at his very being. Ever since he felt his own blood mix with that of the demon gun itself. Black Wind's heart and his own thudding in time and he felt the flood of the soil within it rush into his form and he swore he could have suffocated on the sensation. It was all he could do just to pull the trigger of the Dragon Lord's cannon and feel the kickback almost sent him flying.

He couldn't hear them then but he can hear them now.

But as the voice continues he thinks he knows for sure who this celestial boom belongs to. It has to be Lord Bahamut. It has to be. Who else would call this vessel by such a name? Who else would refer to him in such a way that makes him feel so small? Who else but the Celestial Mother's only blood kin would know him by the name that was given to him by the eclipse themselves?

How else would he be recognized as a celestial?

Only the gods themselves could really see him for such a thing.

He knows what he is. He knows what he's done. He hasn't been able to sleep since. He knows the voices. He's felt the hands and it never gets any easier when those ghastly spirits rise from their graves to claim. They'll drag him down just as the voice says. They rip and claw at fabric and flesh alike while he hasn't even the breath to scream.

A cold hand of Ice Blue clamping down hard over his chin so that any cries from misty lips become that strained muffles. Beg and plead all he likes. They'll come for him. Lord Bahamut will send his kin to claim his sister's failed vessel. Lord Bahamut will come to claim himself.

He waits for the day that clawed hand reaches forward to carve out his heart.

Dark wings spread out before him. The sky stained in that of heat crimson. The bubbling boiling blood of the souls born to soil hue come to drag him into the depths below. Come to drag him home.

Fire Red hands to peel back flesh until he is stained the color of his bloodline and the imprints of his hericay are burned into his bones by every chromatic fingerprint of the Soil that is eager to consume the Mist.

His Mist.

There's no escaping them. There's no escape but he has to try. He can't just die like this. He can't just die because there is still work to be done. There is still work. He knows the depths have a feeling. He knows the depths have a name. A Mother Black darkness that will pull him deep into her void and to the place where it all began. The origin of it all.

That is why this was all predetermined, wasn't it? When his Mist finally fades into the soft Sky Blue then he can finally know rest but would the heavens still except his wretched soul when his one hue was no longer pure? White Clouds stained red.

His hands no longer pure but instead tarnished like silver that has been unkept over the years. It doesn't matter how much he claws or digs. They would drag him down. Drag him down the Burning Gold of his counterpart. Down past the only thing that's ever really mattered to him.

They'd be separated forever -

Jade eyes set up wide as misty breaths roll out of him in heavy pants. Where was - he was in his room ... in his own bed. He was... in the castle and His Excellency has allowed him time to rest?

He doesn't remember falling asleep.

He must have and as moonlit vision travels, it finds deep caverns dug into the mattress upon which he lay. He finds places where his hands clawed at reality while his dreams pulled him under. It was just a dream. A dream again of the souls that have fallen to the Maken's wrath.

Jade vision downcasts as he lets out a sigh. The entire room is completely fogged over and he can only imagine he was screaming in his sleep again. He can only be thankful that the other residents here don't quite have the same hearing as that of a Misterican.

He's only been here four years but it never gets any easier. Not with everything that's happened. Not with everyone who's died. Not with every life he's killed. Not with Rorahm still refusing to wake up.

It never gets any easier because now after everything, he can't escape the voices of the Soil.

[moonyasnow]

Break-down-reality.

A vent-piece

OCS : Irina OTHER CHARACTERS : brief mention of Malleus (she calls him 'Peri'— short for Peridot)

CONTENT : Irina has an emotional breakdown, angst, mental illness, emotional dysregulation

Quick thing: If you wanna see my TWST stuff for the canon characters but not my OCs, just go to:

Settings -> content you see -> filtered tags

And add my OC tags All of them can be found here on my pinned post

Nails digging into her arm she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, to force the ear-splitting scream ringing through her head from escaping past her lips. She pushed the air that would've fueled it through her mouth but clenched her nose to stop it from making any real sound. But when she needed to take a breath she stopped it all. It made her think she should be better than this. If she could silence it why couldn't she just keep it in well enough to not need to huddle in a hidden corner and silently pantomime the roaring emotions tearing through her.

The tears and snot cascading down her face felt disgusting, colored her pathetically in the imagine of a small child in a fully grown body, pretending to have grown up but still stuck forever at nine years old.

An imagined drum-rhythm smashed through her porcelain skull, the sound repulsing but comforting— only because it was far too familiar. She heard the crash, felt the impact, beating along to the rhythm of her pounding skull, leaking fluids. But it never broke. It remained intact. Never bringing her the catharsis she wanted. She wanted it to break. If it didn't, she wasn't feeling it strongly enough.

She wanted to rip off her own skin and crawl into a hole and die.

She wanted to be found. But there was nothing she wanted less.

Nothing she wanted less than to need to explain. Because she couldn't. The only sound her voice was capable of producing were the quiet, choked and cut-off whimpers she tried desperately to contain. She wouldn't be able to say anything. If she tried to use her vocal chords the wailing would take them over.

And if she wanted to be found, that would mean she was just crying for attention, wouldn't it? She didn't want to be crying for attention. So she needed to be quiet.

But she wanted to scream.

So she did it in her head. Screaming louder than all the voices whispering horrible thoughts to her of how horrible she was. But she deserved to hear them. She deserved to hear them and it hurt, so she screamed louder, in order to be bad— to be what they accused her of being, to drown out everything. She just wanted it to stop, needed it to stop. But she needed it to continue forever.

The world was caving in. She was dying. But the nothing never came. The world kept spinning. Her heart kept beating.

And left in its wake was the dried out husk of her body, laying on the floor wedged between two walls in an empty corner of Campus.

Soon she'd get up and continue living, like nothing happened, the stinging feeling in her eyes the only remaining evidence. Her brain automatically locking the emotions away and forgetting them until next time. She'd feel embarrassed for breaking down. Because she wouldn't be able to remember how it felt. She'd feel proud for handling it on her own, since it meant no one else was forced to deal with seeing her like that.

She was fine. She was ok. She wasn't a burden on anyone. She handled the bad herself, see? Like she always did. She did good.

Now she felt embarrassed and guilty for missing a class.

She'd lie and say she hadn't been feeling well and just forgot to tell a teacher; she really wanted to be there, but she just couldn't, she felt too bad. It felt like a lie. She hoped her bunny eyes, crocodile tears and the remorse in her voice that would be real but feel oh-so fake would be enough to excuse her.

She wanted to feel disgusted with herself for lying like that. She did, but distantly. Like she was reacting to someone else's actions. Like it wasn't her. Because it didn't feel like 'her'. It felt like no one. Like make-believe.

For a moment, just a moment…she wondered what would have happened if Peri had found her like that. The immediate image in her mind was one of him holding her tiny body close to his larger frame, cradling her head and letting her cry until her eyes ran dry and voice went hoarse, in the safety of his arms. She wanted to hope he would.

She shook her head to will the vision, and the welling up of tears it brought with it, away. There was no use of thinking about it. It was over now. It didn't matter because the version of him that would be so kind to her— the version of him she always met— didn't feel real. He didn't feel real. Their friendship didn't feel real. It felt like a lie she was fooling herself with; like one of the fantasies she dreamed up to distract herself.

The only things that felt real were bad things, like being scolded or mistreated, or breaking down, or being alone. The good things were all just play-pretend, a fairy tale she'd fallen in love with and didn't want to leave.

A dream she'd need to wake up from one day.

Like she always had.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The pink borders will be used for my OC stuff in the future!

Also, I'm going on Vacation for a week, so I'm not gonna be active on tumblr during it I do have some posts queued up though that I wanna share! Just know It's gonna take a few days for me to be able to respond to any comments and stuff

But do definitely leave comments— they absolutely make my day! And I will respond eventually

[xexiar]

Give Up

Ao3 FFnet

---

As I’m sitting in my room I’m wondering what I should do on such a quiet Saturday morning. At that, it was too quiet, but that’s usually the case after moving to the dorms. It wasn’t long before the decision of the day was chosen for me.

At first it was a faint knock at my door. For moment I questioned if I truly heard it. That was until a crying Deku walked inside. Typically I would scream and telling him to leave, but the way he looked had me go silent. From the puffy red eyes and dark bags, it was clear he had cried all night. The way he was shaking with every movement as he closed my door and walked over to my bed. How he hugged himself while mumbling to where I couldn’t understand him.

No words left my lips as I got off the bed and stood before Deku. What am I going to do with him? The few times I’ve witness him like this was so long along. We weren’t even in elementary when he broke down in front of me. What could have happened that he was like this now?

I tried to reach out for his shoulder, but he moved back. If he wasn’t going to let me touch him, than why was he here? But instead of asking, I rush to my door and locked it. Then I went about making sure my window was locked and the curtain closed. When I went back over to him is when he finally looked up at me.

His mumbles still sounding like a jumble mess. But what am I to do now? I tried once again to touch his shoulder, but he quickly hugged me and started to cry harder. “What’s the matter?” I had to stop myself from calling him anything but his name. Whatever was wrong I did not want to make it worse.

“I can’t take it anymore!” I looked down at him in time to witness the pain in his expression. The way my chest painfully ached had me hoping it’s not what I was thinking he meant. Trying to wipe the tears away from his face had him crying even more as his words spilled out of him. “I can’t take it anymore, Kacchan! I just can’t! The fact I came this far is a fucking miracle. But I just can’t take it!”

At that, I knew exactly what he meant. I quickly held him in a tight hug, as I moved us to the bed. With steadily movements, I got us both laying down. I wrapped myself around him, as he continued to repeat himself over and over again. I felt so useless not knowing what is it I could possibly say to sooth him. Especially when I part of the problem he was having.

“Sometimes I think how right everyone was right about me. About how useless and pathetic I am. How much better it would be if I just end it all. Then the thoughts keep repeating do just—”

I quickly covered his mouth and looked him in the eyes. “Don’t even dare. They were all wrong. I was wrong.” The way he tried to break eye contact with me, I was not having it. “Let me finish.” He stopped moving and I released his mouth. I started once again trying to wipe away his tears. “Everyone is an idiot for not believing in you. You’re so smart and brave. It’s down right scary how kind hearted and accepting you are.” He started to make the motions he was going to speak but quickly stopped. “You’re more than you give yourself credit for.”

He then hid his face in my chest. “You’re just saying that. It’s all lies.”

I quickly pulled him away and made us both sit up. Then I placed him on my lap, facing me. “Why the fuck would I lie about that!” He looked shocked before trying to look away. I forced him to look back at me. “Midoriya Izuku!” At that, his eyes widen as he stared at me. “You are the most stubborn nerd I know. Even when the odds are against you, you still make it work. People, even myself, kept trying to push you down. But what do you do?” He shrugged his shoulders. “You get your dumb ass right back up!” At that he let out a small chuckle. “Then someone else saw what I see and gave you a chance. You were meant to be here.”

That got his smile growing a bit. But it was too small for my liking. “Kacchan—”

“Let me finish!” He nodded. “I called you Deku before it was close to your name and it meant useless. But then you gave it a different meaning. You embraced it and have it as your hero name. You gave that name a new meaning. It no longer has the same mean. When I think of it all I see is you.” He blinked a few times. And it’s then I realize what I was saying and felt my face burn up. But I can’t stop now. This was important. “It means drive, endurance, kindness, smart, and most importantly,” I leaned onto his chest as I tried to hide my face. “Heart.”

[wormholxtreme]

The gentle tap of his finger on her chin brought her eyes to his for a fraction of a moment. She was on the brink of falling to pieces in his arms and that look upon his face, that soft concern in his eyes, that pain that floated there behind them, it cut her already delicately ribboned status to nothing more than confetti.

The lump in her throat tore at her vocal cords as the sob finally broke through. The dam of her will power shattered and water fell from her eyes in full force.

She hated it. She was so weak, beyond weak, she was pathetic. What right did she have to fall apart like this? Stop it stop it stop it. She screamed at herself internally, a strangled frustrated cry coming from her lips. She put her hands on his chest and tried to move away but his embrace pulled her closer. He was gentle and commanding as always. And like always a part of her wanted to fight him, to struggle against his hold over her. So many conflicting emotions ran through her all at once.

Her breath caught in her chest at the sudden feeling of being trapped, his arms and cloak around her preventing any form of escape while she was a rabid dog with a bone, namely her self hatred. But it was Adam. When she looked in his eyes there was only one fundamental truth - that he loved her.

Kaylee still could not wrap her mind around why though. Why her? Why after all this time? When he left Hala they had reached an understanding. Their time together was wonderful, beautiful, but unrealistic and unattainable outside of that bubble. And even at his return Kaylee's heart did not ache for him. She was happy to see him. Happy to have him on her side. Like old friends seeing each other again fondly.

But her mind wasn't on their tryst. Her mind wasn't focused on the fact that he was once her lover. All of her attention had moved to Athan. He was the father of her unborn child, he was the one hold out of humanity she had while Pestilence, and the hope that she could be saved was so interwoven with Athan's own destiny that she let herself be blinded by his cruel intentions.

So how could Adam say such sweet words? When Kaylee hadn't even given him a second glance when he waltzed back into her life? God she was such a bitch.

He spoke of her beauty, her perfection, when all she did was break people apart. She shook her head to argue. He wasn't right. How did he not see that the darkness inside her was over flowing and it had always been there. That's why she was chosen in the first place. That's why she was branded. They didn't turn her into a monster. They just put a leash on her.

But before words could croak from her mouth to dispute his claims, his lips had found hers in a petal soft embrace.

Kaylee startled a bit at first, tensing up even more at the claustrophobic situation of being trapped in his arms but that kiss. Somehow soft yet sweet at the same time. He pulled her in, bringing her shaking body to a halt as those wonderful lips of his peppered her tears away.

She wasn't perfect but he was.

Her leg lay hooked over his hip and she sank down closer to him finally succumbing to the draw of his soul as it soothed hers to settle. Her hands found his arms until she moved them along brushing the back of one against his cheek.

“How do you do that? How do you always manage to say just the right thing?” She asked, her voice hoarse from the sobbing. “You love me too much Adam. You held onto this flame and I-I just I let it go because I thought that's what we were doing but then everyone after you I just dug my heels in and-and look at this mess I've created.”

She sighed heavily, closing her eyes as the exhaustion hit and her head throbbed. “I should leave. I should leave. You…you think I'm something I'm not and I should leave because if I don't all I'm going to do is hurt you in the process and-” Kaylee shook her head definitively, her voice becoming stronger for just a moment as she emphasized her statement “- I do not want to do that.”

Another sigh escaped puffy lips as she let her body fall heavy into his arms “I am just shattered pieces on the ground darling I don't even know if I can recognize myself in the reflection of those pieces. I…I have a son whom I've not even gotten to hold and he's…he's gonna end up destroying the universe if we don't get him back or-or-” She couldn't bring herself to say it but the fact of the matter was Adam was there. And it would just be cruel enough that his destiny would be to end her child's reign before it could even begin.

“Can you lie to me, just this once? Tell me it'll be fine. Tell me we'll get him back and stop Death. Tell me that mom and dad and Stevie and Wes will be safe and sound. That Pepper and Dione will find their way through this chaos. That Sophie and Eros will get to have their story book ending and that you and I will rekindle our old flame like the perfect romcom series. I mean you just, you already say such sweet words I don't believe anyway, what's a few more?”

"There is no need to pretend with me." His fingers slid underneath her chin and he lovingly pleaded with her to look up and into his eyes. The tears teetering on the edge of hers were stabbing his heart worse than any dagger ever did. He kept constantly saving the universe, so how come he couldn't save her? One thing that never left Adam's mind. "I know your strength, I know your power. Please, don't ever think you couldn't be vulnerable with me. It pains me, my little star, to see you in shame, turning your gaze away from me."

It was in his abilities to walk through her mind, truly know what she felt and what were all those haunting memories about, but she never granted him consent, and how would he be any better than those before him who willingly broke her trust if he abused his power? No matter that it was in favor of Kaylee and her mental well-being, Adam refrained. Many misused the power over her mind, including the father of her child and his ungodly mistress, and Adam could only imagine how triggering it must be for Kaylee, but if she ever allowed him, he might be capable of healing some of those traumas.

"Shh," A whisper touched her cheek. He didn't intend to silence her words, her pleas but he was determined to put her insecurities to rest.

Adam's arm effortlessly pulled Kaylee's small frame as close to his radiating body as possible. He still kept her wrapped in his cloak, which momentarily served as their cover when he wordlessly asked her to hook her leg over his hip. That way he could keep her even closer in the safetiness of his arms.

His love for her was endless, he wished so was hers for herself. Adam could sense the great grief buried in her chest. Her aura was now all shades of blue when it once used to be all the tones of red and yellow. It was so disheartening, that it awakened a familiar rage within his core. "How could I be too good for you, when you are flawless, my goddess?"

His lips searched for hers in a short, but not less passionate, connection before Adam went on a quest to kiss away all the tears from her face, vanishing in the crook of her neck, taking the intoxicating scent of her skin.

She was beautiful and she was his. Again. He didn't believe it'd ever happen again when he was searching for her through the vast space of the universe. He'd never tell her, but Adam pleaded with Lady Death in the battle for Kaylee's soul. The soul his own immortal shelf possesses is too strong even for Death, it was the only thing he could do, but at the time he was back from his own time in a soul realm, it was too late. Kaylee was already branded. Another thing he'd never forgive himself for. Not being around when she needed him.

"You mean everything to me and you mean a lot to many in your life, Sunshine, don't let the darkness fool you. Don't let it break your soul, I know how strong it is. And I spite hearing the thoughts you are aiming at yourself. Please, be kind to your heart. I know many weren't. I love you, Kaylee, and I will until this timeline collapses and we will meet in another one."

[dollwritesarchive]

Ooohhh looking forward to the Sukuna stuff! He's like the man you definitely shouldn't want but at the same time you can't help yourself you know? I feel like he's whisper the dirtiest things to me.

i hope you don’t mind but as soon as i read this ask i had to write something, bubs!

warnings : dark fic, noncon and abusive behavior ( don’t read if dark content is triggering for you 🥰 ), blood, bondage, sukuna being a menace, suggested overstimulation & blackout, forced cock worship, degradation, lotsa dirty talk. all characters portrayed are 18+, including the reader

“Don’t tell me—“ his baritone was a thunderous rumble against the shell of your ear so hot and full of rage that you crumble in submission, shying away from it with a pathetic whimper, “that’s all the fight you had left?” he chuckles when he feels you writhe in a fruitless attempt at an escape, and it’s raspy and wicked, and the claws at your throat dig in, piercing soft, sweat-sheened flesh to pull you upright against his hardened chest. the heat of the blood bubbling to the surface sears your skin as it skates down over your clavicle, mixing with perspiration clinging in droplets to you, and before long you couldn’t tell the difference between the two. were you soaked in carmine or were you just so slick with sweat that it felt like you were dripping? you choke out a soft plea, but it’s too garbled to be recognized as much more than a babble. “And here, I thought you’d pose a real challenge, that breaking you would be difficult.” you can feel the grin he wears as he hisses into your ear, “but I’m watching you now— limp and impaled on my cock, and it’s clear just how easy to shatter you really are. Like a little, glass doll.”

your back arches as taut as you could force, trying to push his girth from its nesting place deep in your body, but he’s too thick— he has you stretched around him, and the wiggling you’re doing is only begging for him to push you down flush against his pelvis, which he does with a menacing grunt, and you cry out— filled with every inch.

“What’s the matter, hm?” Sukuna teases, teeth grazing your cheek. “This fragile body of yours aching? Screaming? You feel like you’re about to bust open?” you nod, eyelids fluttering behind the blindfold, soaked with old tears. “Then why is your cunt so fucking wet?” he practically roars with laughter, “I’ve never felt such a slippery, greedy hole! Why don’t you listen? Hear you soak me?” humiliation creeps to the surface of your countenance in heat waves, and you were grateful he couldn’t see the way your eyes rolled. the sounds were disgusting— squelching as he bounced you atop his powerful lap, your cunt weeping for him, wet skin slapping his thighs until you’re lightheaded.

“I don’t…” you wanted to scream that you didn’t want this at the top of your lungs, but Sukuna was right: the fight had quite literally been fucked out of you, and all you could do was sag on his lap and take it, legs spread over his knees, trembling, “fuck…” you pull at the restraints keeping your arms tightly bound behind you, and your palms try to push against his rippling abdomen, hoping to push yourself free of this delicious, sinful abuse, but your strength is no match for his. you should’ve known that. still, you knew that you were close to another climax, and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “When I— get out of this…”

“Hm?” Sukuna encourages, rocking his hips furiously to meet yours, “What will you do, exactly? You’re weak. Worthless as a jujutsu sorcerer. At the very least, you should be thanking me for finding a use for you—“ his grip on your throat tightens until you croak and spasm, an orgasm unraveling within you. it was one of many that he’d ripped from you, whether you wanted to admit it or not, but you couldn’t hold it in. “A breathing fucksleeve to keep my cock warm.” you shake your head, gurgling in protest, but he laughs again, letting go of your throat. you slide from his lap and collapse on the floor between his feet with a weak thud, your slick gushing on to the floor. you’re lucky you didn’t fall face first into the ground, but instead jammed your shoulder against his knee, falling back against it, panting. each inhale of oxygen burned your lungs and you sputter helplessly. “Hold on to those fractured pieces of your reluctant spirit,” he croons, claws delving against your scalp to grasp a fistful of your roots and drag you closer, smearing his cock, mighty and still hard and throbbing, over your open mouth. you can taste your own pleasure, and you cinch your mouth shut as he rubs the length against your swollen tiers, grunting. “Like it or not, you’re mine now. A god’s whore. I’ll fuck you every day until you’re bruised, torn, slipping in and out of consciousness, just to see your mind start to crumble away. Piece by piece, bit by little, fucking bit, I’ll shred you like parchment, until your old self is gone— and all that’s left is a set of holes that gets off on the pain I inflict; shit, you’ll beg me to hurt you over and over again. Just you wait and see how much prettier you are when you’re ruined and leaking my cum from every hole.”

[muffindaddystyles]

Someone hurts Y/N at work; and Harry’s owner of the company.

Angry young man CEO!H very protective of his lovie :)))))))))))))

It was Tuesday. Tiring Tuesday is what Y/N calls them to be because they lurk in the middle of week and drags you after a Monday. Today, it’s the worst fucking Tuesday since the day she started working at this company.

Harry offered her. More to say tried to convince her with his sweet puppy tactics, tried to lure her in with his seductive begging and would mumble the same thing in her sweaty neck while balls deep in her, “Please sweet toots ... promise I wouldn’t be there to take ye' interview, please work in my company.” He squished her sides in desperation. Y/N whined, mind too occupied in the way he’s leaking into her, the head of his cock angled to rub at her spongy wall making her hug herself into him.

“I could be a very hard boss in my office, ‘s all ‘m saying.” He wiggled his brows at her playfully, hissing when his double joke earned him a tight fit around his prick and he was soon forgetting all of it when she canted her hips to let him slick deeper inside her.

It’s not that; Y/N doesn’t wants to work at his company. When her boyfriend asked her so sweetly and stout-heartedly. Call him a sap but he actually wants to be closer to her in every possible chance he gets – she gives him an unyielding amount of comfort and happiness when she’s with him.

There’s this silver of pride he wants to take (since he’s the biggest narcissists) in being a power couple, because in the end everything will be theirs.

But she doesn’t want to seem like she took advantage of him. She didn’t study and worked hard many years to be called dependent on her boyfriend. She wanted to find her first proper job herself – feel all the odds and jitters of her firsts after UNI.

Harry called the battles off knowing his little stubborn baby’s too much a wiggler and he believes in her and he’s very proud of her previous achievements, he just wants to see her happy working with him or not.

She indeed got it. She was finally a design editor at a grand magazine company, excited to meet her boss who’s one of her absolute favourite graphic designers in the industry.

Harry and her celebrated her baby step towards her success by going out at this cafe which had cats you can pet and love on.

He was blissed to see her this happy, considering it a win win situation. But she doesn’t need to know? Does she? And Harry didn’t do anything suspicious? Did he? Nobody even know who she's! And if Y/N wants that, he’ll have it that way.

Soon her enthusiasm deflated like a sorrowful balloon whirling in the air for seconds before falling on the ground and getting it’s existence neglected, because, her boss was the meanest bitch alive.

At the moment, Y/N forced the pertinacious lump of pathetic tears down her throat, not blinking to dry out the moisture threatening to fall from her waterline feeling humiliation creep up her skin and making her want to shrink into herself and never show her face.

She listens patiently and optimistically as her boss practically screams at her for not liking the designs Y/N worked to modify for damn 62 hours and the Karen still had an audacity to degrade, Y/N.

Y/N gasped, stumbling back in fright shock when the file that had her precious designs composed in it flew and hit Y/N, the ragged corner of it scratching Y/N’s delicate skin and her boss was spinning away from her to stare coldly at the bustling city outside through the window drowning into fumes and anger.

Y/N opened her mouth, guppy like. Wanting to say something back and call her out on her act but she felt like her voice got strangled into her chest.

ShitShitShitShit.

Hammering in her brain when she felt something warm oozing from her skin and she’s panicking, wiping a vicious streak of blood from her jaw with her trembly fingers and scuttled straight to the washroom before anyone was able to see her in such vulnerable condition.

She had enough of it and left out of there without a word to anyone, not even to her cubby mate. She bottled all the emotions that were rattling against her bones to flood out of her each pore, until she could reach her home and once she did she was having a humongous and ominously scary breakdown, glad that Harry was stuck in meetings and the house was all of hers to cry ugly.

Once she was all blue lips, puffy and swelled up cheeks and eyes, nest of a hairstyle and all burned up lungs she was calming herself down with deep breaths just Harry taught her.

Scrubbing and cleaning herself off then going to bed without waiting for Harry, something very rare and the right hit in the nail for him to know she isn’t feeling well.

He was welcomed by silence. No dinner, just leftovers in fridge and his insides became all crummy and not very pleasant when he tailed to the living room and wasn’t met by his lovebug; either cramming her head to sketch down designs with an ipad in her lap while a buzz of random Netflix show accompanies her, dossing off cutely with hundreds of her study journals and magazines messed around her on the floor, or her in sleeping pyjamas with food already set up on the coffee table and brightening the whole room with her squeals when Harry announces his presence.

None of that instead he finds her in their bedroom, drowned under layers of blankies and her stuffies with room lit dark.

He coos softly, mattress dipping down from his weight and his heart expands and melts all around his other organs at how adorable she looks sleeping in his hoodie. He chuckles shaking his head at the way she has the strings of the hoodie squeezed around her head, not sure how she’s able to breath at how tight it seems around her neck.

Doing his own routine he was slipping into the bed, sighing from the warmth and how toasty she has made the bed already.

He bunched her against his chest and kissed her head then spooned her up in his arms, lips fluttering into a smile when she hummed and sniffed basking into his scent.

“Oi sleepy.” He whispers down at her cupping her neck and giggles softly when she whines mushing her cheek against his chest only to grunt sleepily and muffle her yelps into his sweatshirt.

Harry’s brows shoots up into slight bafflement then dips down into a frown when he slipped his calloused palm under her hoodie to cradle her jaw and felt something graze against his thumb that was about to press into her soft skin to bring her for a night kiss.

“Hey...” He perches himself on elbows, switching on the lamps and ignores her groans grasping the blanket she was about to pull over herself, huffing at him to let her sleep but Harry’s more stubborn than her if it involves assuring himself she’s okay and right now she’s not and Harry was already feeling it in his bones.

“Lemme see.” He persists gently, peeling the blankets and the hoodie off her head while she’s still stirring into sleep not able to open her eyes how much she tries because of the exhaustion dumped on her from whole day.

He stares at the wound she did a shit effort to cover with a gauze messily over her jaw and tiny bit area of her neck, a long bandage reaching to her ear and Harry tries to think rationally and not freak out as he touches it with cautious fingertips.

“What ... the –- fuck, Y/N what is...is this?” His mouth falls slack. His ears buzzing for a moment and he wraps his arm around her shoulder to bring her up as he leans them against the bedhead.

He feels bad when she knuckles at her eyes warily and mumbles something that’s barely audible.

“What happened, baby? Talk t’me? How did y'hurt yourself so bad?” Worried and fearful. He bombs her with questions not waiting for her to be fully awake and his heart breaks miserly upon focusing his gaze on her face, her angelic face that’s now soaked with sadness –- she’s been crying.

His loves been crying and he wasn’t there for her.

“Who did this to you?” Y/N's eyes widens abruptly. The alertness in them vivid for Harry to see under the lamp glow and she gasps, nose twitching and lip wobbling as Harry grabbed her chin and ducked to her eyelevel to ask her tenderly with a layer of strictness under his tone, “’M asking, Who did this to you, Y/N?” Her fragile heart could already take so much and she strangled out a sob lowering her head down in embarrassment.

“’M.. I’m —-.. no –..not telli –-..telling you,” She hiccups breathlessly, shaky fingers fisting onto the blanket thrown over Harry’s lap and he holds her hands kissing them gently, “I’ll know it one way or another baby. Don’t force me to get outta my way to find —–“ His soul stabbing glare was enough for Y/N to ramble and at first he thought he didn’t heard her right, that she was mumbling too much but when the reality seeped in gradually Harry almost froze in his spot.

“I know it’s very shameful —..” Y/N stammers barely able to get in a breather and Harry’s head snapped at her words, removing his nails away from making little graves in his palms and his jaw which almost felt like breaking from the hinges from how painfully furious he had it set relaxes as he tries to calm himself down and not to grab his keys and drive to that bitch's house to trash her place.

Because how fucking dare she treat anyone like that in his own fucking company.

“Hey, hey. Now none of that toots. Look at me darling, oh my sweet moppet ... shh.” It slices his heart in pain to see Y/N like this -- so small and disheartened. How dare she hurt his such delicate, sweet, loving girl like that? How!?

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of yourself moppet. She should be, fo’ being such a heartless prick.” He spat, his guts full of bitter and hatred. His skin hot, his grip on her tightening protectively and his chin quivers trying to lock all his anger inside and not to burst out like a pressure cooker.

“I’ll deal with her tomorrow.” He nods curtly to himself, poking his tongue to wet his grimacing lips and Y/N was too woolly to get what’s he’s saying.

His gaze flitters back on her. His demeanour turned incredibly soft and gentle for her smooching a big generous kiss to her salty lips and then to both of her cheeks cared in both of his palms, “Are y'okay? D'you want me to take you to hospital?” She shakes her head mewling and melting and caressing herself into his wrist.

“Why didn’t you call me baby?” He asks her doing anything in his power to mask the hurt in his tone and sighs touching his forehead to her's when Y/N sniffled, “Didn’t wan’ you to worry.” He slid his forearm under her bum and scooched her atop of him, patching tiny careful pecks to her jaw.

“But, that’s love moppet. Worryin’ bout you, takin’ care of ye' and beating anyone raw who even dares to have evil intentions towards you,”

“Remember the time y'snubbed that one guy’s oh so expensive shoes who was very rude to me at one of your graduations party?” His simper turning into a proper ironic grin when she giggled hoarsely nodding along and the tension in his muscles released watching her getting better.

“Proper broke his big toe with your heel darling.” He giggles with her and then Y/N realised how sad and awful Harry’s feeling, how it’s hurting him the same way it hurt her an year ago.

“How about we have a glass of milk .... it’ll help us sleep less grumpy y'know.” He murmurs in the crook of her neck, elbow cocooned safely around her shoulder blade as he kisses the side of her head again and again nose buried in her hair to smell her treacly smell.

.

In the morning he was tragic to hear Y/N sound so heartbroken and dejected as she told him, “I’m going to resign and accept your offer.” Her smile small and sad, hugging him looping her limbs around his torso lazily.

“’kay baby, but first eat your brekkie.” He kissed her hair and squished her pout when he moved away to make some calls to his assistant.

Y/N had no-idea what he was upto. Glad that he was driving her to the company and that he was immensely supportive of her decision, her insides pooled with warmth and giddiness when he tried to cheer her up with his silly jokes and singing along the radio murmuring rubbish whenever he forgot the lyrics.

She was utterly confused when upon reaching he was giving the keys to valet boy to park his car and interviewing their fingers in a strong grip before leading her inside, even though she should be the one to do so.

She sputters a, “Huh?” when instead of telling her he’d wait for her in the lobby he’s rounding the corner towards the elevators and turns his wrist to push her infront of him to keep her closer to himself all the time.

When the doors are sliding apart the people scurrying outside halts for a moment, not looking Harry in eyes and keeping their heads low.

Phones were already rung in the building that Mr. Styles will be coming un-announced and everyone should be prepared to face the consequences if they stumble upon him – because well he isn’t in such a nice mood to start with.

“Harry.” She pokes him in ribs feebly, stepping away from him feeling timid due to few pair of eyes in elevator watching her awkwardly and maybe judgingly.

The tension in space could be cut through knife, as if everyone’s holding their breaths and she pouts taking a good look at Harry who’s smirking smugly confident in his element.

Do they all think her boyfriend’s way too intimidating and out of reach for them? They should know he’s such a sweetie!

Y/N huffs. Folding her arms over chest when Harry paws at her hips and pulls her back against his chest resting his chin atop of her head with a shit eating grin.

In all seriousness. Showing them that’s she’s his's and belongs under his wings, which will keep her safe and protected till his death.

“How did you know my boss's office’s on tenth floor?” She squints up at him suspiciously.

“Hmm. Dunno, moppet. Magical powers or summat?” He teases her, putting a hand at the small of her back to nudge her forward making her blush pink and ducks down to whisper in her ear, “You got this toots.” Biting her earlobe playfully to stroke down her anxiety upon sensing her hesitancy to step in the hallway that has cubicles lined up.

He already got this. He ordered his assistant to get the resign letter ready and showing her who’s the boss here’s not much of hurdle for him.

It’s weird. Bloody weird. Y/N wants to turn back and run away because the moment they step inside the whole damn hallway falls eerily pin drop silent and everyone’s peeking up from the short walls of their cubicles and then diverting their eyes immediately in embarrassment and apology seeing Harry behind her.

The ones who’re standing bows their heads lightly in respect for him and scurrying away to give him a way and that’s insanely surprising and weird.

Harry on the other hand was no stranger to those bogey looks. Of curiosity, uneasiness and dread when he passes through the crowd of his employs. Y/N is.

Slowly perhaps. It starts to sink in— jumbled and disoriented when she looks back at Harry. He’s keeping his head held high and shoulders tilted back with poise and conceitedness, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants and because though it makes him look like a proper snob— he is their boss and the owner of this company, he should act like one.

“Mr. Styles.” Y/N’s boss assistant Marina who’s usually very chirpy (and undeserving of all the yelling she gets from her boss) turns pale at Harry’s presence. She’s the only person Y/N's very keen of, now she’s fretting towards them with her head lowered and tries to stammer something but Harry’s walking past her with his lips pursued as he goes inside without knocking.

“Harry...” Y/N tattles behind him, lunging to clutch onto the hem of his suits coat, to scold him to stop babying her and let her handle it herself, too late since she’s already meeting with the sight of her overly stressed and upset boss.

Her knees almost gives in when Harry snaps his fingers for the employees that were inside to give them privacy and takes in the most relaxing breath of oxygen, feeling a gag of bitterness in his mouth from even looking at her.

Y/N gasped. Her boss (which she’s not sure is her boss anymore) gasped. The sweet assistant Marina gasped. When Harry told her in the most composing way– though his blood’s boiling absolutely sheathing through his veins.

“You’re fired.” His demeanour cold and voice monotone not giving a fuck how much she shakes and cries for his forgiveness.

“Mr. Styles. I..I can explain–-" She stammers rushing from the back of her desk and stops obediently when Harry gestures her to not to take another step forward.

“There’s no excuse for abuse. I don’t want your lame explanations, I can’t have an abusive asshole running my company for me ... we might be strict on our employees but we aren’t monsters.” He grits, his eyes flaring piercingly with rage and showing no empathy towards her as she pleads him to forgive her mistake– those bricks of money makes you work baby.

“You hurt someone so dearly to me ‘n think I’ll forgive ye'?” The assistance eye’s blows away at newfound information, Harry Styles love of life’s none other than Y/N. The girl she used to have smoked sandwiches and milkshakes with in their lunch breaks.

“I didn’t know ...” He chuckles ironically at her hypocrisy and that’s the last straw for him before he’s threatening her to call the security and she’s getting out of there cursing him under her breath but Harry grabs her from elbow roughly, conceding his brow at her dauntingly.

"Apologise to her right fuckin' now."

"Sorry, Mrs Styles. I'm very ashamed of what I did." She says nervously and Y/N nods not able to speak from the butterflies that are flapping around her stomach, which sure didn't go unnoticed at Harry's side and he smirks at Y/N.

When they’re left alone. Jovial cackles are bouncing against the walls and he’s pressing his hip to the desk, securing his hands around his triceps as he folds his arms infront of his chest entertaining himself to the cute and fuzzy reactions of his girl at what just happened.

“See. Told ya, nobody could defy my bossiness at work.” He grins at her, jerking his hand towards his chest to usher her closer to him and boops her nose smacking an obnoxiously loud kiss to her mouth when she toddles in his arms.

“The offers still there,” He looks down at her cheekily and she shakes her head, a small smile kicking up her lips at his determination and devotion.

“Couldn’t say no to you, could I? What will you be owning secretly next time?” She nips at him, planting her palms firmly against his midriff feeling the crispiness of his shirt underneath his jacket.

“A bakery shop ....?” He muses in the most pondering voice and she scoffs at him through pattering of giggles, “Suck it up Mr. Styles.”

“Hey! I know my prick’s huge but not tha’ much for me to suck it myself.”

Y/N chokes onto her own spit. Shaking her head at him.

“Your innocent employees knows how vulgar you’re?”

“Uhmm. Infact, She gets very hot hearin’ me like tha'.” He bobs his head grinning at her wickedly and she smacks his shoulder, “Harry!”

“Yeahhh! Tell everyone how good I make you feel babbbyy—....” Y/N clamps her hand around his mouth to muffle his lewd fake moaning.

“You’re so embarrassing.” She grumbles wiping his spit sticking to her palm down her skirt and spins around to head for the door expecting him to follow her.

“You don’t talk to boss like that!” He trails behind her, “Boss my ass!” She quips out a squeal looking around to make sure that nobody saw it when Harry slapped her bum.

“Boss someone’s ‘bout to get a pink ass.”

[angie-long-legs-moved]

Angel's grasp came nowhere near the phone.

Of course it didn't. He should have known better. He did know better.

And he'd done it anyway.

In a shot, the wind was knocked out of Angel as he was hurled against the floor with brute force, glass fragments puncturing the bare skin Valentino had exposed. The fact Valentino had the foresight to tear down Angel's robe to ensure the maximum amount of pain was inflicted confirmed that this was more than just animalistic rage- this was conniving and sadistic. He wanted Angel to hurt.

And Angel did. He gritted his teeth, screwing his eyes tight shut as the sting of the glass now embedded in his back melded with the profound ache that rang through his body as it collided with the floor. His head had been smacked down so hard he saw stars, and the wrist Valentino had snatched as he made bid for the phone had surely bruised from the sheer force. Angel's hands rose instinctively to paw at the fingers curled around his throat - a desperate plea for release, and an entirely fruitless endevour.

This was the pain that Angel knew intimately, the pain he had expected when Valentino revealed that he'd discovered Angel's dirty little secret. He almost welcomed it, the agony that bloomed when the true ferocity of Valentino raised its ugly head. The mind games were over - all that remained was violence.

A relief, maybe. But it still fucking ached.

Between the force of the impact, Valentino's hand gripping Angel's throat, and his knee pushing dangerously into his abdomen, Angel was fighting for breath. His vision went white, a welcome solace from the nightmarish image of his keeper screaming as he restrained him, fury distorting his features as pink spit flew past razor sharp teeth, those horrible tear stains entirely out of place in this new expression. Perhaps it would be better if Angel passed out.

Valentino would not allow him such a luxury.

The second time Angel was slammed down, his vision warped for a different reason - it disgusted him that after all this time, the pain Valentino inflicted could still make him cry. He knew it was coming, but familiarising himself with this pain didn't make it more bearable. It just meant he knew what to expect.

And then the threat he knew was coming all along, the one he had prepared himself for right from the start - the threat against Husk.

The tears that had been brimming threatened to fall as Valentino's hand crept under Angel's chin, forcing the two demons to lock eyes. Angel gasped as his throat was released, drawing in a deep, ragged breath, his vision spotting once again as his body adjusted to the flood of oxygen.

"I'll do it! I'll do it, Val, please just- please don't hurt him."

Angel's voice cracked in an unwelcome, shameful sob. The physical pain, the threats, the stark switch from Val playing the victim to so quickly becoming the aggressor - it was intolerable. A tear finally dropped, landing on the sharp, gold fingers that lifted his head. His senses were muddled, he could hardly see or breathe, and his heart thrummed in his chest like a hummingbird. But the one thing that stayed clear in his mind was Husk. Val made good on his murderous threats, everyone knew that. Angel had no choice but to surrender, if it meant his love was to avoid a second death.

"I'll break it off, I won't see him again. I'll send the message, right now! Just... let me do it, okay?" Angel pleaded. The tears were streaming now. Val always made him feel so small, so pathetic. So weak. He ground him down to nothing without a second thought, and no matter how many times Angel tried to fight his cause, he was always reduced to dust in Valentino's hand.

"Please, Val. Please don't hurt him."

Angel sucked in a sharp breath as Valentino's hand curled around his wrist, preparing for the worst.

But, still, the worst wouldn't come. In its place, a gentle kiss to the back of his hand, soft lips that masked those dangerously sharp teeth grazing his knuckles. A string of pink, sticky spit pulled between Angel's hand and the Overlord's mouth as he drew back, momentarily connecting the two demons in a venomous kinship before it snapped, leaving nothing more than a thin trail that spilled down Valentino's chin.

Even more distressing than the physical affection - the concern. The "poor Angel" performance, as if that fucker ever gave a shit what "state" Angel was in: he did whatever he wanted, when he wanted, with no regard for anyone but himself. For him to even acknowledge that Angel was shaking felt like a slap in the face, for all the times that he had been a trembling wreck, and Val hadn't so much as batted an eye.

A slap in the face, a kiss on the hand... Somewhere along the way, it all started to feel the same.

And then the fucking waterworks.

Angel had never seen Valentino cry before. It was positively monstrous, the ten-foot demon towering over him, pink streaks streaming from under those heart-shaped glasses like bulging veins, as though the red of his eyes had sapped into the tears themselves.

Then, finally, the cherry on the cake:

Anthony.

Valentino only ever called Angel by his real name to remind him of his place: a merciless taunt to drive home the fact that Anthony was no longer a person, but a possession.

This was a performance, Angel reminded himself, as the familiar, unwelcome hooks of Valentino's thrall began pulling him in. Something out of a C-list movie, trashy and melodramatic - all style, no substance. Nothing more than one of his typical tantrums, sensationalised to suit the situation, histrionic and woeful to coax out that sick-making guilt.

But, as ensnared as Angel still was in Valentino's web, as much as that invasive guilt still pricked his conscience - things we not the same as they once were. The emptiness that lay waiting for the Overlord to spare a trickle of affection had found another source, one that loved in abundance, challenging Angel's entire perception of what it meant to be loved. No matter how Val treated him, he had been able to go home to someone who held him with kindness and respect, not with ulterior motives. Someone who would never dream of spouting faux apologies and citing fictional heartbreak, begging for love surrounded by shards of glass and broken furniture.

And now Valentino was going to make Angel break both of their hearts.

It was as the moth demon covered his face, still churning out those straight-to-video sobs, that Angel spotted his opportunity. But he had to be quick - while Val couldn't see what he was doing. He was well aware this would end in violence, as all things did with Valentino, but at least, if he was successful, he could spare his lover from the damage Angel would be forced to inflict.

"I'm sorry, Val," Angel said, soothing and sweet, playing along with the act. If he was going to pull this off, Val had to think his ploy was working exactly the way he wanted it to. "Of course I'll call it off. I told ya, whatever ya want, I'll do it."

He exhaled slow and steady, clenching his fists.

Was he really going to do this?

"I promise."

Angel lunged for the phone.