#this is so sick and fucking twisted!!! sick and twisted!!!

[chrisemi]

I love your art sooooooo fucking much! Like to see my childhood but like grown up with your rendition hits my soul and makes me feel all warm. That these shows aren’t forgotten and talented artists like your work so hard to keep them alive and bring visions to life! I have to say your human SpongeBob is spot on! And the Jimmy and Timmy pairing, he’ll even the whole cartoon crossover is something I literally dreamed of happening! It’s giving Cartoon Network City but Nick version. Please never stop drawing! I’d pay for a fanfic of their antics, or like even headcanons of the squad and how they act in their teens/adult years. Man, you make me wish I kept up drawing as a kid/teen because this is beyond sick! OOOOO and the fact you remembered El Tigre— hurt me so good! And Jimmy’s dog! I love all the personal design twists on everyone and how you made Danny the “sick of this shit, but someone has to step up” adult here! Much love from a 23 year old cartoon/animation lover!

doodles i dont remember posting here yet

[natsaffection]

You're last post got me thinking....what would happen if somehow someway another vampire got to Reader and turned her. I know Nat watches her obsessively but like shit happens. Like what would Nats reaction to something like that happening be?

You’re still mine. | N.R

Vampire!older!Natasha x Human!younger!Reader

Warnings: kidnapping and forced turning

Word count: 2,5k

The sound of your ragged breathing filled the dark room, broken only by the rattling of chains and the slow, deliberate sound of footsteps echoing against the cold stone.

Natasha was fighting against the restraints that bound her, the scent of burnt flesh thick in the air as the silver seared her wrists. But she didn’t care. She didn’t feel it.

Because you were in his hands. And she was helpless. He took his time. He savored moments like these..the ones where he got to watch Natasha suffer. And tonight? Tonight, he was going to destroy her.

His lips curled into a smirk as he lowered his head, his breath ghosting along your throat, making you shudder violently in his grasp. “Poor little thing.” he murmured, his fingers tightening around your waist, keeping you pinned against him. “You’re shaking. Tell me, is it fear? Or is it knowing what’s about to happen?”

A sharp sob escaped your lips, your entire body trembling against his hold. Your nails dug into his arms, desperate, panicked, pleading. Natasha snapped against the chains. “Stop!!” she snarled, her voice breaking. “Victor, let her go, she has nothing to do with this!”

Victor hummed, pretending to consider her words, before he let his fangs graze your skin, just enough for you to feel the sharpness. You whimpered, your hands gripping him tighter, your body trying to curl away, trying to disappear.

Natasha lost it. “VICTOR!” she screamed, her body thrashing against the restraints, her face twisting in desperation. “Fuck, please!” The plea left her lips before she could stop it, her voice hoarse with something that was almost a sob.

Victor grinned. “Did you hear that, little one?” he mused, his voice dripping with amusement. “She’s begging. The great Natasha Romanoff is begging for you.” Your breathing hitched, your chest rising and falling too fast, your heartbeat hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird.

You could feel his fangs hovering just above your pulse. You could feel death breathing down your neck. You sobbed, gripping onto Victor even tighter, nails raking against his skin in raw, primal terror.

Natasha’s stomach twisted violently. “Malyshka (Baby), look at me..” she whispered, her voice cracking. You were shaking too much. Your body was too rigid, your fear suffocating you.

Natasha’s heart shattered. “Y/n..” Your wide, terrified eyes met hers. And Natasha, despite everything, forced a soft, broken smile. “Breathe. I’ve got you. Just keep looking at me.”

Your hands trembled violently, your grip on Victor never loosening, not because you wanted to hold him, but because your body was begging for something, anything to cling to.

Natasha felt like she was dying. Victor chuckled, his fangs trailing lightly along your skin, feeling your pulse beneath them.

“She’s holding onto me like I’m the one protecting her.” he mused mockingly, his lips brushing over your throat. Natasha saw red. “You sick son of a bitch-”

“Careful..” Victor murmured, his fingers tilting your head just slightly. “You don’t want me to lose control, do you?” Natasha clenched her teeth, forcing her expression to soften for you, despite the rage burning inside her.

“Moya lyubov (My love)..” she whispered, voice so soft it cracked. “I need you to focus on me. Just me. Not him, not what he’s doing. Just keep your eyes on mine, okay?”

Your gaze locked onto hers like it was the only thing keeping you alive. And maybe it was. “I’m scared..” you whimpered, voice barely audible. Natasha exhaled sharply, her throat burning. “I know. But you’re not alone. I’m right here. I’ll always be right here.”

Victor let out an exaggerated sigh. “How sweet.” Then, his fangs pressed in. You let out a strangled gasp, your body stiffening as the sharp points broke the skin but didn’t bite. Just enough to make you feel it. Just enough to send your body into a state of pure terror. Your nails sank into his arms, hard enough to break the skin. Natasha sobbed.

“You don’t have to do this..” she whispered, begged. Victor grinned. “Oh, but I do. You’ve kept her human for too long, Natasha. You’ve been selfish. And now? Now, you’ll watch as she becomes one of us.”

“NO-” Then, he bit. Your scream ripped through the room. Natasha howled, her body shaking, her wrists bleeding from how hard she was pulling against the chains.

“Y/N!” Your entire body arched in agony, your pulse slamming against Victor’s lips, your hands clutching onto him like he was your last anchor in a storm.

Natasha’s entire world shattered. Your breathing turned ragged, your limbs trembling violently, your blood pouring into Victor’s mouth. And Natasha felt it.

She felt the moment your heartbeat changed. The moment your body stopped being yours. Her vision blurred, the sound of her own screams echoing around her, her rage, her grief, her entire soul breaking into something unrecognizable.

“No, no, no-” she choked out, shaking her head, her body collapsing under the weight of everything. Victor exhaled sharply, dropping you to the ground, your limp body hitting the cold floor with a soft thud.

Natasha’s arms dropped, the silver finally giving way under her relentless struggle, but she didn’t care. She was already too late.

She crawled toward you, her hands shaking as she reached for your face, cradling you against her. “Open your eyes..” You twitched in her arms. A faint, broken breath left your lips. Your veins darkened.

Natasha choked on a sob, pressing desperate kisses to your forehead, her fingers trembling as they brushed through your hair. “I should have turned you myself..” she whispered, voice barely there.

Victor smiled, satisfied. “And that, Natasha, is exactly why I did it first.” Natasha didn’t even register the moment she killed him. She didn’t feel her hands tear into him, didn’t process the screams, the blood, the vengeance that overtook her.

Because none of it mattered. None of it would ever bring you back. And when your eyes finally opened, something in Natasha died. Because they weren’t yours anymore. They weren’t hers. And that? That was something she would never forgive.

“I’m here, lyubov’. I’m not leaving.”

“I should’ve protected you. I should’ve done more.”

The only sound in the room was the faint, ragged breaths slipping past your lips. You weren’t asleep. You weren’t awake. You were something else—something caught between death and rebirth, trapped in the hunger of your new existence.

And Natasha hated it. She had never wanted this for you. Never wanted you to be like her. She had spent years protecting you from this curse, from this hunger, from the eternal darkness that had consumed her soul.

But Victor had taken that choice from you. And now, she was left with the aftermath. Her hands clenched into fists, her rage simmering beneath the surface like an inferno ready to consume. Victor was dead, but that wasn’t enough.

Because his actions still lived on. Inside you. A sharp inhale pulled Natasha from her thoughts. She froze, her grip tightening around you as your body stirred for the first time since your turning.

You twitched, your breathing shallow, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. Natasha’s heart clenched. “I’m here-” Then, your eyes snapped open.And Natasha stilled. It wasn’t you. Not really.

Your irises were still the color she had memorized, but now? Now, they were darker. Your pupils were too wide, your gaze too sharp, your body too tense as your senses flooded with the overwhelming hunger.

Natasha knew the signs. You were starving. And you had never felt anything like it before. Your hands shot out, clutching at your chest, at your throat, at anything to make the burning stop. “N-Natasha-” your voice cracked, raw, breathless, desperate. “I’m here, just breathe-”

“It hurts!” You gasped, curling in on yourself, your hands trembling violently. The hunger clawed at your insides, tearing through you like fire, like nothing you had ever known.

“Make it stop!” you sobbed, your fingers digging into your own skin. Natasha grabbed your wrists before you could scratch yourself raw. “Shh, shh, I’ve got you, I know, I know it hurts-”

Your breath came in sharp gasps, your entire body shaking as you clung to her like a lifeline. “What’s happening to me?” Natasha swallowed thickly. She didn’t want to tell you. She didn’t want you to know.

But the truth was already there, settling in your bones, seeping into your mind like a toxin. You weren’t human anymore. And Natasha could see it in your eyes..the growing fear, the way your body recognized its own monstrosity.

“I don’t-” Your voice broke. “I don’t feel like myself.” Natasha’s fingers curled under your chin, tilting your head up, forcing your gaze onto hers. “You are still you.” she whispered, her voice thick with something desperate, something aching.

Your lips trembled. “Then why do I feel like I’m dying?” Natasha inhaled sharply, her grip tightening. Because in a way, you had.

And the thing left behind was no longer the same. A quiet, broken sob slipped past your lips as you buried your face against her shoulder. “I don’t want to be this!” you whispered, pleaded. “I don’t want to be a..monster..”

Natasha’s arms wrapped around you so tight she thought she might break you all over again. “You’re not a monster.” she said, but even she wasn’t sure if it was true.

“You’re still mine.” You sniffled, your fingers clutching at her clothes like she was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. I’m scared..” Natasha shut her eyes, pressing her forehead to yours. “I know..” she whispered. “But I won’t let this break you.”

She exhaled sharply, her thumb grazing over your lips, her gaze flickering to the sharp tips of your fangs now fully bared. “I won’t let you go hungry either.”

Your body stiffened. Fuck, the hunger roared inside you. Natasha felt the shift before you did—the way your pupils dilated, the way your lips parted slightly, the way your entire posture changed as the need for blood overtook everything else.

You needed to feed. And Natasha was the only one you trusted to give it to you. She inhaled deeply, her hands sliding to the back of your neck, holding you steady.

“Drink from me.”

You froze. Your body trembled against hers, the sharp inhale of breath making Natasha’s stomach twist. Because she could feel your hunger. It was clawing at you, screaming at you to take what you needed. And Natasha Natasha wanted you to.

She needed to be the first blood you ever tasted. She needed to be the one to give you this..to guide you, to make sure you never craved anyone else the way you craved her. “I don’t-I don’t want to hurt you-”

“You won’t.” Her fingers tilted your chin, her lips ghosting over yours before she turned her head, exposing her throat to you in a silent offering.

“Take it.” she whispered. “Make yourself mine all over again.” Your body shuddered. Your lips brushed against her pulse. And then..Then you bit and Natasha sighed in relief. Because even if Victor had stolen your humanity-

Natasha’s entire body lurched forward as she gasped for air that she didn’t need. Her hands clenched the sheets beneath her, gripping them so tightly her nails nearly tore through the fabric. Her entire being felt like it had been ripped apart, like she had died a thousand times over in a single breath.

Her lungs burned, even though she knew they didn’t need to. Her mind spun violently, disoriented, lost. The scent of blood still clung to her senses, the echoes of your scream still piercing through her skull.

Her heart pounded in a way it never did anymore. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. She didn’t recognize the dim glow of the bedroom, the soft sheets beneath her body, the familiar warmth beside her. Everything still felt wrong, like she was still trapped in that dark, suffocating nightmare.

Victor’s laugh still rang in her ears. She could still see your body, the way you clung to him in fear, the way your eyes begged her to stop what was happening. She could still feel the moment your heartbeat faded into nothing, the way your body stilled in her arms, the moment you were no longer you.

And then she saw you. Her stomach twisted violently. You were beside her, curled up in the sheets, your breathing slow and steady, your body warm and untouched. Your face was soft in the dim light, your lips slightly parted in deep sleep, your hair falling messily over the pillow.

She turned, her movements frantic, her mind still too lost in the nightmare to believe she was free of it. You were here. You were alive. You were still hers. A choked breath left Natasha’s lips. Her fingers twitched, hesitating before she reached out, afraid, so afraid that if she touched you, you would disappear. That this was just another illusion, another cruel trick of the mind.

But then her fingers brushed against your skin. Warm. Soft. Real. Her breath shuddered, her chest tightening with something so raw, so unbearable that she thought she might collapse under it. Her other hand came up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing over your skin, just to make sure.

She had never felt relief like this before. Her hands trembled as she traced the line of your jaw, her touch featherlight, careful,desperate. Her mind was still spinning, still caught somewhere between the nightmare and reality.

Her instincts screamed at her to hold you tighter, to never let go again, to make sure no one could ever take you from her. “I almost lost you..” she whispered, though you couldn’t hear her. Her voice was raw, barely there, but even in the silence, it was painful.

Her fingers moved to your wrist, pressing against your pulse point, needing, needing to feel it. The steady, rhythmic beat under her fingertips made something deep inside her crack wide open. She needed you. Her body moved before she could think, shifting closer, curling herself around you. She buried her face in your hair, inhaling deeply, letting your scent calm the raging storm in her mind.

But it wasn’t enough. She pressed herself closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, her fingers slipping beneath your shirt just to feel the warmth of your skin. The contact sent a shiver through her, grounding her, reminding her that this was real. That you were real. Natasha swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut as she held on.

She didn’t know how long she stayed like that, wrapped around you, her grip almost too tight, like she was afraid you would slip away if she loosened it even a fraction. She didn’t know how to stop feeling like she was still losing you.

“I won’t let anyone take you from me.” she murmured into your skin, her voice barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of something unbreakable. She pressed a kiss to your shoulder, her lips lingering, her breathing unsteady.

-

-

-

A/N: Under no circumstances will I let anyone else turn Y/n. 🙂‍↔️

[sweetlyxaqq09]

THE KILLER'S PAUSE

Pairing: fem!reader x sunwon

Summary- When two ghostface killers, Sunoo and Jungwon, kill for fun but get distracted by one of their victims.

Mentions: violence, bullying, death, psychotic, rough!sex, knifeplay, blood, psychological horror, threesome, hairpulling, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, blowjob, fear play, dark manipulation, toxic behavior, talking through orgasm, sadism, passing out, slapping, nipple play, eating cum, choking , terrifying ending, mean!sunwon.

Author's note- Hi! This is my very first time writing a fanfic, so please show a lot of love.♡Please ignore any grammatical mistakes, as English is not my first language.This fanfic is inspired by the movie Scream, though the Ghostface elements are less prominent.If you don’t enjoy this type of fanfic, please kindly back off.Hate comments will be deleted!

For better experience play this playlist♡

___________________________________________

Sunoo's expression twisted with frustration, the knife glinting in his hand as he leaned closer to the girl. "For fuck sake, stop moving. You're only making it harder on yourself, It’s only going to make things worse for you." he hissed through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing.

Jungwon, standing just a step away, glanced over at Sunoo before looking back at the girl with a detached expression. " i don't know why we are still playing with her?" Just end it already. I’m getting bored. She's all broken now"

The girl's breathing quickened, her throat tight with fear. She strained against the grip on her leg, desperation fueling her every movement. "Please..." she choked out, her voice shaking, "I'm begging you... don't do this...

The air in the room grew heavier, as if the very walls were closing in. The girl, trembling on the cold floor, tried to shuffle away, but sunoo grabbed her by the ankle, pulling her back toward him with an unsettling ease. He hovered over her, his expression unreadable, and slowly traced the edge of the knife near her collarbone, letting the sharp tip graze her skin without making contact.

His voice was low, almost a whisper,

"You should have stayed still. Now you're just... a target."

Jungwon clicked his tongue, stepping closer and circling her like a predator. "It's almost sad, you know?" he said, his voice calm and methodical. "You were so pretty when we brought you here. But now you're just a mess. Dirty and Worthless."

Jungwon's gaze piercing through the girl. He seemed bored, waiting for something to happen. "I'm just done with her, Sunoo. Do it already."

Sunoo glanced at Jungwon, who had been watching in silence, waiting for the moment to end. "You want to take care of it, Jungwon?" Sunoo asked with a smirk, enjoying the sick game.

Jungwon shrugged nonchalantly, his expression unwavering. "Nah, I'm good. Let's just finish it. It's taking too long."

The girl’s breathing quickened as she realized the depth of their cold indifference. She flinched when Sunoo’s knife brushed dangerously close to her skin. She could hear his quiet chuckle as he dragged the blade lower, almost playfully, while Jungwon leaned in with a sinister calmness, watching her every move.

Sunoo stabbed her several times, each blow weakening her until she could no longer move. Her body went limp, and her breath slowed to nothing. Sunoo stepped back, staring down at her, his face cold and expressionless for a moment. Then, a small, unsettling smile crept across his lips.

She was dead now. The pain had stopped, the struggle had ended, and there was nothing left but silence. Her body lay still, no more painfull moans or gasps for breath, no more attempts to fight back. Her body, now still and unrecognizable from the person she had been moments before, lay lifeless on the ground.

She wasn’t much fun," sunoo said, his voice dripping with indifference. "Kept moving, making it harder to enjoy the whole thing. I didn’t even get one clean stab."

Sunoo shrugged, unfazed. "No big deal. We’ll find someone else. Clean up the mess and get rid of her. I’m going to find someone more... entertaining."

Jungwon nodded, his expression neutral. "Yup, I’ll take care of it."

sunoo wandered through the forest, looking for the next victim to play with. His eyes scanning the shadows, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his lips. Then, he spotted her—a girl, lost and disoriented, stumbling through the trees. She looked like an easy target, and he saw an opportunity.

Y/N, her voice trembling, called out into the darkness, "Hey! Do you know where the road goes? I’ve been wandering through this creepy forest for more than an hour. I came with my friends for camping, but I got separated, and now it’s late... Can you help me?"

Sunoo stepped closer, his voice calm, almost too sweet. “Of course, I can help. It’s dangerous out here at night.” He took a deliberate step forward, his eyes dark with an unsettling gleam. "It’s too late to be out here alone. Why don’t you come to my place? You can rest, get warm, and in the morning, we can figure out how to get you back to your friends."

Y/N hesitated, her heart racing as her instincts screamed at her to be cautious. She was alone, lost in the dark, but something in his words felt almost... soothing.

Sunoo, sensing her hesitation, stepped even closer, his smile widening. “Come on, just for one night. It’s dark, and you don’t know what could happen to you out here. I could help... you just have to trust me.”

Y/N felt the tension in the air, her mind battling between fear and need for safety. She wasn’t sure, but the temptation of warmth and shelter was too strong. “O-okay,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sunoo chuckled softly, his eyes flickering with something darker now. "Good choice. Trust me, you'll be safer with me."

Sunoo walked alongside her through the forest, his voice sweet but his words carrying an unsettling weight. “It’s good that you trusted me, you know. A lot of people wouldn’t have, but you did. Smart choice.”

Y/N glanced at him, a shiver creeping up her spine, but she tried to brush it off. “I don’t know... I was just worried about being lost out here alone.”

Sunoo’s eyes narrowed slightly, his smile never fading. “You should be. The woods aren’t safe at night. Especially with things like... him, lurking around.”

Y/N frowned, her steps slowing. “Who? What do you mean by ‘things like him’?”

Sunoo leaned in closer, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “There’s a killer roaming around. He wears a ghost face mask—completely black clothing, and he’s always carrying a sharp knife. There’s no telling when he might strike.”

Y/N laughed nervously, but a knot formed in her stomach. “A killer? Are you serious? That sounds like something out of a horror movie. You’re messing with me, right?”

Sunoo’s face remained serious, his eyes gleaming with a strange intensity. “I’m serious. People go missing around here. It’s better to be cautious.”

Y/N stopped walking for a moment, a chill running through her veins. “Are you... are you saying that killer could be around here right now?”

Sunoo grinned slightly, his voice almost playful. “Maybe. You never know, do you?”

Y/N tried to laugh it off, but her heartbeat quickened, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. She glanced around the dark trees, a sense of paranoia settling in. “So... are you telling me that killer is nearby?” she said jokingly.

Sunoo’s smile widened, his eyes glinting “Maybe. It could be me also. After all, I’ve got the mask, the knife... I could be the one you’ve been running from all along.”

Y/N felt a wave of unease wash over her. “I think you’re joking, but it’s not funny anymore.”

Sunoo stopped walking, turning to face her fully. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m not joking. And you should really be careful. Who knows? Maybe you’re walking right into it.”

The air grew colder, and Y/N’s footsteps faltered as she turned around, suddenly feeling like she was being watched. Was it just her imagination, or was something moving in the shadows? Her heart pounded louder in her chest.

She spun around quickly, sunoo was gone. A sickening sense of fear gripped her as she stood frozen. The sound of her racing heartbeat filled her ears. She didn’t know what was real anymore. Was he messing with her? Or was it something more?

Then, from behind her, Sunoo’s voice called out, almost as if from a distance. “I’m coming for you!” With a knife in his hand and with the ghost face costume exactly like how sunoo told y/n about.

Desperately, she turned and began running. Her breath came in sharp gasps, and the darkness around her seemed to close in as the trees blurred by. She didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. The thought of being out there, alone in the woods with... whatever that was, was too terrifying.

The chase was on as she heard Sunoo's psychotic laughter echoing through the dark forest, sending chills down her spine.

Y/N’s breath came in ragged gasps as her legs burned with exhaustion. Her pace had slowed, no matter how much she willed herself to keep running. Sunoo was right behind her now, his presence suffocating.

Before she could take another step, a sharp yank on her hair sent her crashing to the ground. A sharp cry escaped her lips as her body hit the dirty ground.

"Aww, poor thing" Sunoo mocked. He leaned down, his voice dripping with amusement. "I have to admit, watching you struggle was entertaining.'"

As Y/N struggled to regain her strength, she suddenly pushed herself up and bolted, her legs moving faster than she thought possible. The sudden burst of energy caught Sunoo off guard, his smirk faltering for a split second as he watched her slip from his grasp.

She ran, the adrenaline pushing her forward until she saw it—a house in the distance with lights on. She made a beeline for it, her feet pounding against the earth, until she reached the front door and banged desperately on it.

Sunoo whispered to himself, "Ah... now this is where the real fun begins." He let out a dark chuckle, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You just made this easier for me... No more games now.

The door creaked open, revealing Jungwon, looking startled but confused. “Who are you? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Y/N, panting heavily, barely able to get the words out, stammered, “Someone... someone chased me! They were wearing a ghost face mask, He tried to kill me!”

Jungwon’s brow furrowed in confusion. “A ghost face mask? Are you sure?”

Y/N nodded frantically, her hands shaking. “Yes! It’s real! He was right behind me!”

Jungwon stepped back slightly, his face becoming unreadable. “Hold on. Calm down for a second.” He looked at her carefully before turning toward the inside of the house. “Are you sure it was a ghost mask? "Because... if it looked like this... we’ve got a problem.”

He stepped aside, revealing the very same ghost face mask she had described. Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes went wide. “No... no, this can’t be happening. Not here. Not now.”

Jungwon stepped forward, his voice calm yet chilling. "It's real. You're not safe here."

Before she could say another word, the door creaked open wider, and another figure stepped inside—the very same ghost face mask, only this time it was Sunoo. Her blood ran cold.

No... no... no!” she gasped, backing away, her vision blurring with panic. She turned and rushed toward the door, desperate to escape, but before she could grab the handle, Jungwon grabbed her by the arm, yanking her back roughly

Just as she tried to turn, a sudden pain shot through her head. Jungwon had yanked her hair harshly, slammed her to the floor, the sharp tug caused her vision to swim. She could barely keep her balance as her head spun from the pain. The world around her felt distant, as if she were drifting in and out of reality.

The world around her spun out of control, and with a final, breathless gasp, she fainted, her body going limp in Jungwon’s arms.

___________________________________________

Y/N's head throbbed as she regained consciousness, blinking her eyes open. The dimly lit room sent a chill down her spine. Her arms and legs were bound tightly, the ropes biting into her skin with every attempt to wriggle free. Panic set in, her heart pounding as she remembered running for her life in the woods.

The sound of footsteps broke the silence, and the door creaked open. Sunoo strolled in, wearing an infuriatingly playful smirk, followed by Jungwon, whose calm, almost nonchalant demeanor was unnerving.

"look who's awake! I was starting to get bored waiting for you to wake up" sunoo teased, He tilted his head, studying her struggles. "Hmmm... I know the ropes are tight, but bear with it, okay? If you behave like a good girl, I might loosen them for you."

"You!" Y/N hissed, glaring at him. "I thought you'd help me, but you're nothing but a traitor!"

"Traitor?" Sunoo gasped mockingly, placing a hand on his chest. "That's such a mean word. I prefer... Ghostface killer.

Her breath hitched as she stared at him in disbelief.

"No... you can't be... you're the Ghostface killer?"

"Bingo!" Sunoo said cheerfully, his smirk growing wider.

Sunoo tilted his head with a small, satisfied smile, nodding as if he were proud of her realization.

"Yes, yes, it's me!"

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"The person you begged for help and The one who chased you in the woods? That was me"

"No way!" she yelled, her voice trembling.

"You bastard! Let me go! Don't you see this is wrong?"

Jungwon, who had been silently watching from the side, took a step forward. His movements were slow and calculated, his presence suddenly feeling much heavier in the room.

"What's wrong, huh?" he asked, crouching in front of her. His hand shot out, grabbing her jaw harshly and forcing her to look at him. "We're just going to have some fun. That's all.

Her voice shook as she demanded, "Fun? What kind of fun? Aren't you two going to kill me?"

"You?" Jungwon chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Kill you? Oh no, not yet. You're far too pretty to die so early."

"You're insane!" she whispered, trying to move her face out of his grip. "Psychotic!"

"Psychotic?" Sunoo raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "That's not very nice. We're giving you so much of our time and attention. Shouldn't you be a little more grateful?"

At least we're not killing you right away. That's something to be thankful for, isn't it?" Jungwon said.

"Thankful?" she snapped, her voice growing louder. "You're delusional! You both are sinners filthy, disgusting bastards!

"Ouch! that hurts" Jungwon said mockingly, pretending to be hurt. He looked at Sunoo, his smirk widening.

"Did you hear that? She said we're disgusting bastards. Who talks like that?

Sunoo crossed his arms, nodding as if deeply offended.

"I know, right? We go out of our way to make this fun for her, and this is the thanks we get? Unbelievable."

She glared at them both, her breathing heavy.

"And how could I forget you? You're also the Ghostface killer, aren't you?" Y/N said while glaring at Jungwon

His eyes lit up in amusement as he crouched closer, his smirk widening.

"Aww, you remembered me. How cute."

He tilted her chin up, his grip rough but calculated.

"And here I thought you'd only focus on Sunoo. I guess I made quite the impression, huh?"

"You're both insane!" she yelled, struggling even harder against the ropes. "This is wrong! My freinds will come looking for me, you won't get away with this!"

"Won't get away with it?" Jungwon repeated, chuckling softly. "Oh, we've already gotten away with so much. What makes you think this time will be any different?"

"She's so noisy, never stops talking. Jungwon. It's like she can't keep quiet for a second. Don’t you think?" Sunoo said, being frustrated.

"I know, But don’t worry, I have plans for that pretty mouth of hers. Trust me She won’t be talking much longer, not when we put it to better use." Jungwon said with a smirk.

I can’t help but wonder how she’ll react when we take control. Sunoo said

"Oh, she'll react, alright. But not in the way she expects. We’ll make her completely at our mercy, we will make her surrender to us. She'll have no choice but to give in to our demands, and all she can do is wait for what comes next." Jungwon said

"This is going to be fun"

Sunoo smirked, his gaze sharp yet teasing.

"Now, now, don't make us regret setting you free," sunoo purred, leaning closer to y/n's face, while untieing her hands."You wouldn't want to disappoint us, would you?" Sunoo asked her.

Jungwon's voice was softer, almost mockingly gentle as he stepped forward, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "We’ve been so kind, haven’t we? All we ask is for you to behave." His lips curled into a sly grin. "Be a good girl, and take what we give you, right,?"

“Answer us,” Jungwon demanded, his tone dropping to something that sent a shiver down your spine. He leaned back slightly, studying you like a predator gauging its prey. “Will you behave… or do we need to remind you how we handle disobedience?”

Your voice was barely above a whisper, but you managed to nod slightly. “I’ll behave…”

“Words, i need words,” Sunoo said with a soft laugh, his hand moving to cup your face. His touch was firm but not harsh, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “We need to hear you say it. Loud and clear.”

“I’ll behave,” you finally said, your voice steady but your cheeks burning under their gazes.

Jungwon smirked, clearly satisfied. “Good,” he said simply.

Sunoo’s laugh was soft but full of mischief as he leaned even closer. “And trust me,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, “you’re going to love every second of it.”

Your heart raced as the intensity of their stares sent shivers down your spine. Jungwon chuckled darkly, the sound dripping with amusement. "Looks like she understands," Jungwon said, his voice low but filled with mischief. "I wanna see how obedient you are". Jungwon said.

"Now Get the fuck on your knees! Unbuckle my fucking belt like the good little whore you are. You better know what's fucking coming next - my massive cock so far down your throat and you're gagging." Jungwon said mockingly

"Please, no, please don't make me do this!" Y/n sobbed, her face contorted in anguish. "My friends, they'll be worried for me. They're probably searching for me right now. Please, I'm begging you, let me go!" Y/n begged

"Rolling his eyes dismissively, Jungwon snapped, "Calm yourself, would you? Your incessant whining is giving me a migraine. Behave, and perhaps I'll consider letting you skulk off to your little friends. But mark my words, one more outburst and you'll regret it.'"

With choked sobs, Yn silently obeyed Jungwon. She bit her lip to stifle any further noise, her small frame trembling with silent sobs.

Yn slowly pushed his pants down, exposing a thick, stone-hard cock that stood proudly upright. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in its impressive length, her eyes tracing every vein that popped along its surface. Jungwon's smirk deepened as he noticed her terrified awe.

His tip was already glistening with pre-cum

"'Think you can handle it?' Jungwon growled, his hips bucking slightly, making his massive length jump. Yn's eyes snapped down to watch the monster between his legs. She swallowed hard, 'It's too big, it won't fit", she whimpered.

"I will make it fit, Now Stop fuckin' around and suck my dick already,' Jungwon snarled, grabbing a fistful of Yn's hair and shoving her face towards his towering erection. "Open wide, slut or I'll shove it down your pretty throat. I'm gonna wreck your throat with this big fuckin' cock. That slutty mouth of yours needs a purpose".

"And If you even fuckin' dare to graze my dick with those goddamn teeth," Jungwon snarled, "I swear to God, I'll snap your neck and use this knife to carve your pretty face up. Suck it like a good little whore."

"'I'll try,' Yn stammered, her voice shaking with fear as she parted her lips. Jungwon yanked her head forward, forcing his massive cock past her trembling lips. Yn's eyes watered as she struggled to accommodate his girth, her throat constricting around the imposing length.

"Jesus, look at those pretty fucking eyes watering," Jungwon groaned, holding her head still as he hilted himself deep in her throat. "Tryin' to fit this whole monster cock, aren't ya? Fuck, your lips look good wrapped around my dick."

His massive hands fisted in Yn's hair, Jungwon viciously shoved his entire length down her throat, stretching her jaw wide. She gagged and choked around his thick meat, her eyes bulging as he brutally face-fucked her.

"Fuck..." he moaned, tilting his head back in ecstasy. "Your mouth... Jesus Christ, this is the best fuckin' blowjob ever."

"Damn," Sunoo muttered under his breath, watching Jungwon pound into the girl's mouth. "She looks like she's taking it so deep,"

His grip on her hair tightened as he controlled her movements, slamming his cock deeper into her throat with each thrust.

You patted his thighs softly to stop, but he was too consumed by pleasure. "I'm gonna...cum" "Fuckin' Christ..." he grunted, pulling out sharply. A sticky thread of saliva stretched between your lips and his leaking cock. "Look at that nasty fucking spit rope, you filthy little whore," he spat, watching his cum drip from your mouth.

Sunoo unconsciously adjusted himself. "I wonder what she tastes like..." He murmured, his own arousal growing.

"Fuck! Let me have her now." Sunoo excitedly

"I've been hardcore fucking SALIVATING over this girl's pussy. I wanna shove my face between her thighs and tongue-fuck her until she soaks my whole fucking face. I wanna taste every drop of her fucking pussy juice!" sunoo said.

"N-no,! P-please, don't! I-I'm begging you, let me go!" The girl struggles and pleads, her face flushed with humiliation and fear.

Sunoo glares up at the girl, his grip tightening on her thighs. "Fuck me, you're really fucking it up here. Just shut your damn mouth, bitch, and lemme eat your cunt already." He leans in closer, his voice dripping with vulgar menace.

"Open those fucking legs wider! Sunoo can't get his tongue deep enough in that tight cunt of yours." Jungwon snaps, giving the girl's inner thighs a harsh slap. "Spread 'em, whore."

With a snarl, Sunoo buries his face between the girl's thighs, his tongue forcing its way into her soaked pussy. He licks and sucks at her cunt aggressively, ignoring her struggles and screams. "Fuck yeah".

Sunoo's face is a mess as he devours the girl's pussy, his tongue fucking her cunt rough and dirty. He slurps and gags on her juices, his nose buried in her soaked folds. "Mmmph, fucking hell, you're a damn cunt dumpster, ain't ya?"

Sunoo pulls back, his face coated in the girl's juices, and forces a rough, open-mouthed kiss onto her lips. He shoves his tongue into her mouth, making her taste herself. "Mmph, fuck, taste that pussy.

As Y/N tries to avoid him, but eventually fails.

"The fuck you avoiding for? taste your fuckin' cunt juice, forcefully pushes tongue into her mouth while mashing their faces together "Spit it out, bitch. That's your fuckin' pussy taste right there. runs tongue along her teeth.

As Sunoo continues to force his rough, open-mouthed kiss onto the girl, she suddenly feels two fingers suddenly shoved deep inside her pussy by Jungwon. She tries to moan, but her pain-filled cries are all muffled by Suno's mouth, her screams swallowed by him.

Jungwon's fingers curl inside her, hitting that spot that makes her want to double over in pain. He spits in his palm before rubbing it onto her swollen folds, making her whimper into Sunoo's mouth. "Damn, she's so tiny,"

He adds another finger, the sudden stretch burning as he forcefully pumps them in and out, fucking her with his hand while Sunoo holds her mouth open, his tongue swirling around hers, collecting her spit and juices.

"Fuck, look at that tiny cunt, it's barely big enough for one of our dicks, Sunoo chuckles, leaning back to look at the girl's struggling form. "I'm wondering how she's even gonna survive getting stretched open by our fucking massive cocks." Sunoo said while laughing.

"You know what the worst part is?" Jungwon laughs darkly, pushing his fingers deeper inside her, making her yelp. "She probably can't even take a dick without splitting open. I bet she's one of those tight little whores who screams 'It's too big!"

Sunoo bursts into laughter, leaning in close to whisper in the girl's ear. "Better hope you can take it, slut, 'cause if not, it's gonna fuckin' ruin you. Imagine how stupid you'd look, crying and begging while we rape your tiny pussy raw anyway."

As Jungwon's fingers viciously worked inside her, Sunoo's face was now buried between her small, perky breasts, drool dripping down his chin as he sucked and bit, his fingers digging painfully into the other. The girl mewled softly, trying to snap her legs shut, but Jungwon slapped her inner thighs, biting them roughly to keep her spread open.

"I think she's prepared now to take our dicks, I can't fucking wait anymore," Jungwon growls, his patience wearing thin. "Let's just shove our fucking massive cocks inside her and see if she can even handle it."

They both try to fit inside her at once, one into her from the front while the other brutalizes her tiny pussy from behind." She gags and moans, her body stretched painfully around their massive sizes. "ahhh" Y/N Moaned painfully.

"Calm down, will you?" Jungwon said through gritted teeth as the both of them attempted to slide their dicks into her tight, holes. "Fuck, she's so damn small," Jungwon hissed, pushing harder against the resistance.

As they both start moving she feels something wet between her legs, she realizes with horror that it's blood, her tiny holes unable to withstand the brutal assault of the two monstrous cocks pounding her simultaneously. "Shit, I think we're tearing the bitch up," sunoo said mockingly.

"Please, no more ahhhh! it hurts, Jungwon grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Is that how you beg, you little slut?" He sneered. "Try again!"

Her screams turn to gurgles both dicks in blood and as both cocks explodes her pussy, sending bloody chunks of her shredded insides out with each brutal thrust. They keep fucking her, their cocks coated in her blood and gore.

Sunoo, who was fucking her from behind, brings his hand down to rub her overstimulated clit vigorously, she screams in agony. He then brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting her sweet cum and blood, his fingers fully coated in the messy mixture. "Fuck, even her blood is delicious". His mouth is full of her cum and blood.

Jungwon grabbed her roughly by the hair, forcing a brutal, dominating kiss upon her lips as both men's cocks continued to relentlessly pound into her battered holes. "Goddamn," Jungwon growled against her mouth, squeezing her cheeks painfully.

After few thrusts they both were on the verge of Cumming.

"Ahhh fuck, I'm cumming! I think" Sunoo groaned loudly, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Me too!" Jungwon grunted, slamming into her one last time. They pushed deep and held themselves inside her as they both exploded together. "Shit, yeah!"

"She looks damn good with our cum leaking down our legs from destroying that tiny cunt," Jungwon remarked with a satisfied smirk, admiring the sight of their mixed loads slowly dripping from her abused holes.

She wept uncontrollably, feeling as though sharp claws were tearing her insides apart. As Sunoo noticed her tears, he dramatically licked them away, drawling, "Hey, hey, stop crying already.'"

"Look at you, sprawled out like a fucking souless body. At least we hadn't killed you yet. You should be kissing our feet for keeping you alive, you piece of shit.'" Jungwon mocked.

"She's completely fucked now. What are we gonna do with her?" Sunoo asked Jungwon.

"Hmph... I'm bored. Might as well kill her. Even her pretty face is not pretty anymore now as before" Jungwon said.

As Sunoo pulled out the knife from his pocket and donned his ghostface mask, he towered over her. She couldn't muster the strength to fight back, completely broken and used up. He positioned the knife directly over her heart, ready to end her life in an instant.

He sneered beneath his mask, voice dripping with cruel amusement." Last words, bitch? Or should I just shut that stupid mouth of yours permanently?" Sunoo's grip tightened on the knife, the blade glinting menacingly under the dim light as he hovered mere inches from her fragile heart.

She stared up at him, eyes wide with terror but also a flicker of defiance. Her voice came out as a weak, raspy whisper, "Fuck you..."

Sunoo let out a cold, mirthless laugh. "Fuck you too, whore." With a swift, brutal motion, he plunged the knife deep into her heart. Blood spurted out, painting his mask and hands red as she let out a final, gurgled scream.

He twisted the knife, savoring the feeling of her heart giving out. Her eyes rolled back, and she went limp beneath him. Sunoo pulled the blade out, wiping it clean on her tattered clothes. He looked up at Jungwon, a grim smile on his masked face " Done". Sunoo smiled darkly

He traced her blood across his face, a twisted smile curling on his lips.

As Sunoo removed his mask and wiped his face, he only managed to smear more blood across his features. He smirked psychotically, his eyes gleaming with a deranged light as he stood over the lifeless body, his hands and face stained with her blood.

"If she didn't beg for help, she might've gotten away... But whatever.' takes a drag " Jungwon said.

'Hmm... still, she was pretty entertaining while struggling though...' sunoo smirks creepily, staring at Y/n's lifeless body.

"Take care of the body" sunoo said to Jungwon.

"Should I burn it? Bury it? Chop it up?" Jungwon smirks darker.

"Just dispose of it properly, fuck. Don't get any ideas" sunoo said.

"Cruel, isn’t it? We used you like a worthless fuck toy, nothing more than a plaything for desperate, horny killes. And just like the rest, you begged, you cried—pathetic. But in the end? You were nothing but another nameless, broken victim, discarded like trash." Jungwon spoke with a sadistic gleam in his eyes.

As the twisted cycle of killing and madness continued, each new victim became just another piece of trash.

___________________________________________

Few months later

"According to disturbing reports surface of numerous bodies found in the forest, the majority being young girls. Among the victims, one in particular stands out - Yn her body bearing the most brutal signs of assault".

"Investigations revealed that the Ghostface murders were committed by two individuals, not one. Both wore black clothes and ghostface masks.' 2. 'Forensic evidence pointed to two killers behind the Ghostface crimes. They were always seen dressed alike in black and wearing ghostface masks".

"One is named Sunoo, the other Jungwon. Their backgrounds reveal a troubling history, having escaped from a mental hospital where they were being treated for severe mental health issues. Reports indicate they suffered from mind problems, essentially making them psychopaths".

"The investigation into the Ghostface murders continues, with authorities working tirelessly. As the search for these two dangerous psychopaths persists, the public is urged to stay safe".

"This is Mia, your reporter, signing off until the next update!"

TAGS♡

[little-glitter-kitten]

I Think The Apple's Rotten Right To The Core Pt 4

Prologue: As your brother, Caleb always took great pride in the fact that he was always the first to notice the little things when it came to you. When you were hurt, when you were sick, when you were lying or keeping a secret. What will Caleb do when he notices just how much his precious little adopted sister has grown? Can he fight the filthy, rotten feelings threatening to ruin all he holds dear?

(Caleb x Reader, no use of 'Y/N, AFAB reader, size difference.)

TW: Pseudo-incest, dub-con, somnophilia, semi-public sex, possessive Caleb, Obsessed Caleb, Yandere Caleb.

YOUR POV:

Blearily, you opened your heavy eye lids, the sound of rain smashing against the roof, waking you from your slumber.

"Shhhh..." You could feel Calebs' hot breath in your ear as you stirred. "It's okay, I'm here."

You felt yourself being rocked gently, like a boat on the waves, Calebs' hand on your hip swaying your body to and fro. Relaxing into the motions, you were prepared to drift off to sleep again when you noticed it. That hard appendage rubbing between the lace covered cheeks of your ass.

You gasp, realising what is happening, when a rumble of thunder shakes the windows. Before you could let out the whimper that was about to spill out of your mouth, Calebs hand that hand been under your head shoots out and covers your mouth.

"If your scared, bite my hand, just like you used to do in storms." He whispers before grunting on a particularly rough thrust against your ass. You slowly open your mouth as his thumb makes it way between your lips and teeth. Gently, you bite down and whimper, screwing your eyes shut against the flash of lightning.

"Don't be frightened, it's almost over." He pants in your ear.

You can't tell if he is referring to the storm or him using your body, but either way, you lay there, letting him use you but your mind is racing a thousand miles a minute.

It wasn't like you were inexperienced, you'd had sex before, albeit only with one man but that was neither here nor there when it was your brother currently grinding himself against your ass.

"Fuck!" You heard him mutter, his hand no longer rocking your body against him. "I need more, just a little more."

Slowly, you take your teeth off his thumb and whisper quietly. "Wha..." You gulp. "What do you need?"

"Your thighs." He whispers in your ear. "Help your Gēge this one time and I swear, I'll never ask again."

Your mind was at war, you didn't know how you felt about this. Part of you wanted it to be over, but a sick, small twisted part of you was enjoying knowing you had driven such an fine, upstanding man to such depraved madness. Either way, you didn't want him to leave you alone, especially not with the storm outside.

Deciding if this was what he needed to stay by your side, you parted your legs slightly in silent invitation.

"Thank you Mèimei." He chuckled slightly in your ear. You heard the zip of his jeans and slight rustle of clothing before feeling his now bare cock slot itself between your thighs, rubbing up against the gusset of your panties. "You always take care of me so well."

His hand closed your thighs around his cock as he slowly began thrusting in and out of the soft flesh between your thighs. As the head of his cock rubbed back and forth over your clit, your mouth sought out his thumb again. Your teeth biting gently into his flesh as you swallowed a moan.

You felt sick for enjoying this but why did it have to feel so good?

Caleb obviously felt no remorse about his actions, so why should you?

You whimpered as his tongue traced the shell of your ear and his cock rubbed up against that sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again. Feeling guilty about getting off on having your brothers cock between your legs, you subconsciously tightened your thigh and squirmed away.

"Don't fight it, be a good girl for your Gēge." He panted in your ear, his thrusts beginning to become somewhat erratic, making the bed squeak slightly from his movements. "That's it, take it sweetheart, you can't run from me."

Soon you felt him stiffen and pull his cock from between your legs with a harsh grunt. You could hear the wet sound of his hand working over his cock before a whispered "fuck" filled the air.

Turning your head to look at his form before you, you saw him laying on his back, a pool of cum on his belly glowing in the moonlight. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you.

"I could feel your wetness." He told you eith a small smile. "Let me take care of you."

You know you shouldn't, but the throbbing need between your legs had won out. Rolling over to face him, you went to open your mouth to agree when you were heard the cough from the bedroom down the hall.

Grandma...

Our Grandma...

It was like ice water had been dumped on you. You jumped out of your bed and made your way into the shared bathroom, locking the door behind you as you sat on the ground, panting.

You shook your head. You had been ready to let your brother bring you to orgasm. What was wrong with you.

You wanted to cry but the ache between your legs was too much to ignore.

"Shit, shit, shit." You mutter as you give in and slide your fingers under the waistband of your panties, rubbing your clit in fast little circles. It didn't take much before the muscles in your legs tightened and your head fell back, as you released a silent moan.

Your panties were soaked through with a mix of Calebs pre-cum and your arousal. You had to change them.

Pulling yourself off the bathroom floor, you unlocked the door and went back into your room to find it empty. Sighing you flopped back on the bed and realised, you wouldn't be getting anymore sleep tonight.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Early the next morning, you carefully made your way downstairs, mindful of the other two people sleeping in the house. You began quietly going about making some toast that you desperately needed to sooth your stomach.

You had been up for most of the night, your fingers buried deep inside you as you remembered the feel of Calebs cock between your legs. Shame and guilt swirled in your mind so much that you didn't hear the two sets of footsteps coming down the stairs and making their way into the kitchen.

"Good morning." Your Grandma said, taking you by such surprise that when you spun to face the voice, you knocked off a photograph from its place on the cabinet.

"Sorry." You gasped leaning down to picked up the frame.

"It's okay, dear." Your Grandma said, taking it from your hands to inspect. "It's not broken."

Looking down, you saw a photo of you and Caleb at the park. You sat on his lap on the swingset as he soared the two of you through the sky.

"You always did love the swings." You felt Calebs' breath stir the hair on the top of your head as he leant over you to see the photo.

"I still do." You gave a slight chuckle, trying your best to play it calm.

"You should see it now. They've really done it up." Grandma tells the two of you.

Caleb turns to you and offers a small smile. "Sound like a plan, pipsqueak? We can go to the park, just like old times."

You feel yourself relax and smile back. "Yeah, I'd like that."

[muniimyg]

BAD HABIT // JJK

02 | the glow // series m.list

//

the palace is bigger than you remember.

it swallows you whole the moment you step inside, all high ceilings and gleaming marble. there’s a lingering scent of something familiar in the air… you can’t quite put it into words, but it was strongest when you passed by the dorms. it helped, somehow, easing the ache that had settled in your chest the moment you woke up. the pain is duller now, but it’s still there, tucked between your ribs like something waiting.

in an odd way, there’s a weight to being here. like a quiet hum of anticipation pressing against your skin, thick as the murmurs of the servants and students around you. their voices hush as you pass, eyes lingering, curiosity practically tangible in the air. everyone knew you were coming. 

everyone had been waiting.

and yet, none of it feels easy.

this is your new reality. this is home.

you inhale, slow and deep, as if that might help settle the twisting in your stomach.

“nervous?”

you turn your head, meeting a pair of warm, playful eyes. jimin stands beside you, hands tucked into his pockets, watching you like he already knows the answer.

“should i be?” you ask, adjusting the strap of your bag.

he hums, tilting his head. “mhmm. depends. namjoon thought it’d be better if i was the first to meet you, instead of overwhelming you all at once.”

you raise a brow. “the class president himself couldn’t make it? i’m disappointed.”

“are you about to pull the princess card?”

you scoff. “i’m not a princess.”

“tomato tamato.”

jimin grins, his steps light against the polished floors. within the first ten minutes of knowing him, you’ve come to find that this is his style—effortless, charming, the kind of person who moves like the world exists to entertain him. he’s easy to read. you like that.

“he’s dealing with something,” he says. “jungkook’s not feeling well, so everyone’s on damage control.”

before you can ask what that means, he pushes open a set of double doors, stepping into a room that buzzes with conversation. the shift is immediate—it’s distinct. 

suddenly, everyone snaps to you. 

everyone knows who you are, even if they’ve never met you.

but all their focus lingers on the center of the room, where a group is gathered around one person, their voices hushed, urgent.

“hyung, this is serious,” taehyung murmurs.

“you’re being dramatic,” yoongi mutters, arms crossed.

“he’s right, though,” namjoon sighs, adjusting his glasses. frustration sits heavy in his expression. “this isn’t normal.”

jungkook exhales sharply. 

“i feel weird.” 

his voice is edged, sharp with frustration, and the group around him leans in like they’re piecing together a puzzle with missing parts. he looks irritated—arms crossed over his chest, shoulders tense, like he’s fighting something unseen.

“maybe you’re just sick,” jin suggests. “or maybe you’re finally developing a conscience.”

“is this what you saw in your vision?” jungkook hisses. “hyung, i can’t fucking breathe.” 

the boys look at jin with pleading eyes. 

“what’s going on?” jungkook practically begs. “i can’t—”

“wait it out,” jin sighs. “i need you to trust me.”

jungkook clenches his jaw, frustration simmering just beneath his skin. his fingers curl into fists against his lap, nails pressing into his palms, grounding himself in the sharp sting. he wants to argue—wants to demand answers, to do something other than just sit here feeling like his body is at war with itself—but he knows jin wouldn’t say it unless he meant it.

so he swallows it down. 

he forces his shoulders to relax, inhales deep, measured, like he’s trying to pull the tension from his muscles with every breath. it doesn’t help much. his chest still feels tight, his pulse still thrums unevenly beneath his skin, but he lets himself trust jin. waits, even though it feels impossible. 

the pencil—his pencil—spins faster and faster, a blur above his desk. he can’t stop it. can’t control the way his fingers twitch, the way his breath turns shallow.

jungkook is fucking afraid.

is this death? it feels like it. something gnaws at his chest, unfamiliar and unrelenting, sinking its teeth into him like it refuses to let go.

then—

a snort. light, amused. like this is funny.

“see? this is why i brought you,” jimin muses beside you, and jungkook’s head snaps up.

your eyes meet his.

as your gazes lock, for a moment, nothing else exists. 

the world narrows, the air thins, the space between you humming with something unspoken. his brows knit together, lips pressing into a line, dark eyes holding something sharp, something unreadable. the tightness in your chest disappears as if it never happened. jungkook’s chest lightens too. 

his pencil, which had been floating idly above his desk, stills in the air.

and then it drops.

the room is silence. 

everyone is too afraid to move. everyone is too confused to do so… it’s silent in ways that are painful yet joyous. it’s like the weight of the moment pressing down on the room, on your lungs, on your chest. a breath catches somewhere—yours, maybe his. your fingers twitch at your sides.

jimin claps his hands together, slicing through the tension like a knife. “alright, everyone, this is ___. princess, divinity, future pain in all our asses, i assume.” his smile curves as he turns to you. “anything you wanna add?”

you blink, pulling yourself from the fog of jungkook’s stare. the weight of all their gazes settles over you, expectant. waiting.

“it’s nice to meet you,” you say, voice steady despite the way your pulse flutters. “i hope we get along.”

they approach one by one, offering greetings, and introductions. they’re warm, curious, kind in a way that makes the tension in your shoulders ease, just slightly.

but jungkook remains seated.

his hands are restless, curling into loose fists against his desk. his chest feels tight again, heartbeat uneven in a way he can’t explain. he wants to look away, to ignore the way the room feels different, to pretend his hands don’t tremble in his lap.

but then you move toward him.

slow, deliberate. each step pressing into the silence, making it heavier, stretching it thin. you crouch beside his desk, reaching down. his breath catches. you pick up his pencil, fingers curling around the smooth wood, and then—

your hand extends, offering it back to him. he stares at you for a moment. before you know it, his fingers graze yours.

suddenly, the room is bathed in light.

not just light—something deeper, something that breathes. 

it spills from the space between you, not blinding but radiant. it’s a warmth that doesn’t burn but glows.

a glow completely unfurling from the point of contact—curling around your fingers, your wrists, your very existence. it threads itself through the air, weaving around you like something ancient, something unbreakable.

it doesn’t just touch your skin—it sinks beneath it. it hums through your veins, nestles into the quietest parts of you, places you didn’t even know were waiting to be filled.

jungkook stills.

his breath stutters, lips parting as something inside him clenches—pulls—tightens like a fist around his ribs. his heartbeat pounds against his sternum, erratic and desperate, trying to match the rhythm of yours. he can feel it, feel you—not just the warmth of your skin, but the weight of your presence, the way it settles into him like you belong there.

the air crackles with something new. something irreversible.

invisible string.

the glow lingers even as the light begins to soften, dimming to a quiet shimmer. the weight of it still sits heavy in the air, pressing into the silence that follows.

slowly, the room exhales.

the walls settle. the floor steadies. the afterglow seeps into your skin, fading but never gone, a quiet promise beneath the surface.

your heart glows.

his does too.

everyone in the room blinks—in complete disbelief of what had just happened. everyone saw it. everyone saw how the strings tied and how you and jungkook are now one. 

soulmates. 

finally, you breathe in.

the air shifts with it, carrying something weightier than oxygen, something that settles deep into your lungs. jungkook feels it like a whisper against his own skin, like the rise and fall of your chest is tethered to his own.

your eyes find each other, and the world narrows.

it’s a pull—gentle but undeniable, a force older than time itself. like gravity, like fate, like the spaces between you were never meant to exist.

you want him closer.

he needs to be closer.

but neither of you move.

instead, you stand there, breath caught in the space between, fingertips aching with the weight of something unsaid, untouched. longing lingers in the air, quiet and unrelenting.

so close.

not close enough.

in the midst of it, jin exhales. his voice is low and certain as he says; "told you.”

“told us what?”

“it’s golden."

[conjuredwritings]

rz michael myers x afab reader | 18+

cws : unprotected shower sex, implied consent, rough sex, choking, a little dabble of blood play, michael manhandles reader

a/n : this is my first time writing in years so! any constructive criticism is appreciated and requests are open. i am long due for some practice. enjoy babes! xoxo

if someone asked you to describe your relationship with michael myers, you simply couldn't. were you an obsession? a girlfriend? a quick fuck? there wasn't exactly a concise title for being the girl the haddonfield killer was banging. the two of you had been living together for a little over a year now. but that hardly gave the label of a relationship. michael only lingered around the house when he wanted something. sometimes it was food or rest, and other times it was to pummel you into the mattress. you had to admit, you'd gotten good at removing blood stains from your sheets. he always seemed to want a quick way to get off after a kill.

most people would call you insane. you knew that. but most people hadn't seen the different sides of michael the way you had. you'd grown up with him, being his only friend throughout his short time in town. you'd seen the bruises his father would leave and heard the way judith would mock him. to say you could justify his actions made you no better than him. but could something so wrong feel so good?

you deeply inhale, the warm steam from the shower filling your lungs. it had already been a long enough day and the pressing matter of where you stood with michael certainly was contributing to it. popping open the bottle of your favorite body wash, you begin lathering it across your bare skin. you knew he would be home soon. likely fresh from another kill and wanting another way to ride out his blood fueled high. the second the thought crosses your mind a loud bang suddenly erupts through the air. you silently roll your eyes, hoping he at least had the curtesy to shut the front door after barreling through it. you continue washing yourself as the obnoxiously loud footsteps make their way up the stairs. within a matter of seconds they go quiet. the hair on the back of your neck raises. although michael had never hurt you, the raw power he held always kept a lingering fear in the back of your mind.

it was intoxicating.

there's a beat of silence and then a sudden crack. it takes you a second to realize he had kicked the door in. leaving a broken pile of splintered wood and hinges in its place. sure enough, all six feet and nine inches of pure muscle and bloodlust stands in the door way. his chest contracts with every heavy breath, gaze locked onto your body. there's a faint shine in the light across his navy blue attire, leaving you to guess its blood. something about the idea of that leaves a shiver down your spine despite the warm water pouring upon you. it was sick and twisted, but oh so hot.

"michael are you fucking serious? you know i have to pay for that shit, you could use the handle like a human being," you grumble, turning away from him. you knew exactly what he wanted but you weren't going to feed into his almost child like tantrums. you hear his heavy footsteps approach the side of the tub, surely to peer into the flimsy fabric of the shower curtain.

"you're not-" your voice immediately cuts off as a large hand wraps around the entirety of your throat. a small gurgle surfaces to your lips in its place as your hands instinctively go to claw at his. he doesn't cease his grasp until you're turned to look at him, wide eyed and gasping for air. without giving you much of a moment to recover, michael yanks the curtain aside, nearly ripping it from it's hooks to allow him to get in the shower with you. you want to complain about him being in there with his dirty clothes still on but he doesn't give you the chance.

one hand spins you towards the shower wall, holding you by the nape of your wet hair. the other hand hoists your hips up, and your ass towards him. you've seen him desperate before, but never like this. there was something almost animalistic about his want for you tonight. a small squeak leaves your lips as you feel his leg jut between your thighs, keeping your legs spread apart. you could only imagine the kind of lewd position you were in for him. completely bare and exposed to his eager gaze. the now soaked fabric of his coveralls rubs against your bare skin has he leans into you. the distinct metallic scent of blood clouds the shower as it washes out of the fabric.

a rough, calloused hand reaches up to paw at your chest. you bite your lip to stifle the growing moans threatening to escape. michael seems to take note of this and with unexpected tenderness, twirls his thumb over your nipple. he always liked it when you made noise. whether it be groans or pleads or screams. as long as he knew he was doing something to you. a moan finally forces its way past your lips causing him to press harder into you. you could feel his growing erection rubbing into your core through the wet fabric. to the best of your ability, you grind back onto him, moving your ass up and down along the hard bump. his deep breaths hitch, a clear tell that you were pleasing him in one way or another.

his free hand comes down to leave a sharp smack on your ass. the water causing it to sting more than usual. you let out a whine at the sudden burst of pain. "please michael, i want you so bad," you plead with him. his willpower must be weak tonight because that's all it takes for him to quickly undo his overalls and free himself. the fabric stays draped over most of his body, only a distinct path down the zipper left exposed. and at the bottom of that path is his cock pressed between your thighs. from this position, he sways his hips into you, running his shaft across your folds. a series of almost pornographic sounds leave your body as you practically weep for him to fuck you.

one moment you're begging to be filled with him and within an instant a sudden pressure lodges itself between your legs. a gasp shakes through you as you adjust to his large girth. michael takes no time in allowing you to get comfortable as he slams his hips into you. droplets of water spray into the air where your bodies collide. his large hands dig into your hips, holding you in place as he pounds into you. your eyebrows furrow together, eyes looking to the sky as if some sort of salvation might save you from the sins you so dearly enjoy. you hated how much you loved this. being fucked like his whore. but the way his cock filled your pussy had to be the closest you've ever come to heaven.

his hand originally teasing your breasts slides down against your slick skin to find your clit. a loud moan rips through your chest as he rolls the pad of his middle finger against the sensitive bundle of nerves there. he knew just how to undo you so perfectly. your hips buck against his touch as you feel the familiar knot coiling in your abdomen. "please please don't stop i'm so close," you gasp between moans and cries for release. as he rams into faster from behind his own release dawns upon him at those words. a stifled grunt echoes from behind the mask concealing his face. michael sloppily thrusts into you as his climax peaks, filling you with his cum. he loved how well you would take him every time. "mm baby you make me feel so so good," you groan. the shower had gone cold, the only warmth being his hot seed trailing down your inner thighs. that feeling alone triggers your own release, your walls pulsating around his member, still tucked away inside of you.

michael gives you a shallow thrust, fucking the remainder of your mixed fluids back into you. your thighs shake at the motion, clearly overused by this point. but was he going to stop there? the sudden hand around your throat told you the answer.

[hitthatapex]

The sequel will be three chapters. I don't know how that happened but hoping to post the first chapter tomorrow !! Below is a littleee sneak peak.

In a sick, twisted way, the only person who truly knew the real Charles was Jos. Jos who knew every shitty thing he'd done, yet still chose to interact with him. It wasn’t exactly the reassurance nor the acceptance Charles wanted. Jos who pushed his son to the limits and made him into a tool that he could wield. But as Charles glanced at Max, peacefully sleeping beside him, his chest rising and falling with each soft breath, he suddenly realised that he, too, had done the same thing. It was with a startling clarity that Charles realised how much he fucked up and how much he needed to stop before the guilt killed him. Taking in his alpha's peaceful expression Charles decided that it was time for him. He would retire.

(all the snippets I've shared so far has a heavy emphasis on Jos' character but like ... he's actually not there for much in the actual fic lmao. just trust)

fuck it if I can't have him

“Look Max.” His father spoke up, shaking him from his thoughts. “How do you get an omega to submit?” He asked.

Max furrowed his brows. He knew his father had a specific answer to this question but he wasn’t sure what that was.

His father rolled his eyes when Max hadn’t replied.

“Become his alpha.”

or; Max, humiliated by Charles on track, decides to make him his omega and break him into submission.

[npookie0]

An Intoxicating Desire.

Vampire au kc X human reader, scenarios.  Tws: blood, human organs, possible spoilers for any routes.

This writing is a part of my collab with, the amazing, @4stor he's the one behind Angel's and V's parts (he opened requests for Angel x reader so if you want more Angel content you know where to go <3) The art at the end is also a part of out collab made by him <3

Go shower my husband with love, darling readers.

Ronin Beaufort - Your Fav Vamp, Darlin'.

To my dearest darlin’.

I hope this letter finds you well, for I, your fucking amazing boyfriend,

or ronin beaufort, however you may Call me, invite you for a lil game.

what’s the game? oh, Hoped i’d tell ya? sorry to disappoint you love, i

would never destroy a wonderful surprise, not even Over my dead body. 

Come On, baby, pay me a Lil visit And find out. maybe out game will 

inspire your new Tale? a lil human and their Eternally annoying 

vampire boyfriend having a lil game. heh don’tcha worry your Sweet 

little head over the game, you will find out soon. pay me a visit on the 

sappy-lovin’ day, why don’tcha, my human darlin’? 

                                                                                                         Your devil x

You stood in front of a palace door, it was black, tall, heavy and made out of painted wood. You never expected an… eccentric vampire like Ronin to live in a castle like that, but whenever you saw the interior it all came together. Ronin just leaned into the stereotypic vampires like Dracula and mixed it with Twilight “for the fun of it”. You never judged… okay you did. 

Now you were standing at the entrance of his home, the letter he sent you a week ago in your hand. You were curious to say the least, what new game did he plan? Usually it would be just the typical; truth or dare, people watching and making up stories about the people, nothing too crazy or unexpected. 

“I bet it’s the usual stuff.” You mumbled to yourself and pushed the door open, letting yourself in. Ronin never opened the door for you anyway in his belief the place is yours as much as it’s his and you didn’t argue. A huge castle you could call your own? That’s like a dream you weren’t willing to wake up from. 

Your eyes immediately moved over the hallway you knew so well, extravagant wallpaper and carpets, mixed with ancient furniture and the slight touch of three different pairs of combat shoes thrown on the elegant carpets. Truly Ronin style. 

Something was out of place though, there was a bowl of… chocolates on one of the fancy tables that were in the hallway solely for decorative purposes. 

Seriously, that man and his need to drive everyone around him crazy.  You looked at the chocolates, they seemed normal, and that should be the first red flag for your lil head, but you have a thing for ignoring red flags don’t you? 

You ate one of the chocolates, at first nothing seemed out of the ordinary, at least until you took a Bite and… oh god is that blood? The metallic taste on your tongue couldn’t come from anything else; you spat out the chocolate into your hand, you felt something twist in your stomach when you saw the red liquid on your palm. The world was spinning in front of your eyes. Yeah, you knew that Ronin is a vampire and that he finds great enjoyment in consuming blood, but to this extent? 

“You lost, darlin'.” A quiet whisper sounded in your Ears, a hand wrapped itself around your waist. You felt someone's torso pressing itself to your back and someone's hot breath tingling your neck. 

Ronin. 

“What do you mean I lost? We haven't started playing yet, Ronin” You calmed yourself to the best of your abilities, which was hard with your gut feeling telling you that you're in danger. 

Yeah, Ronin is your boyfriend, but he's still a deranged vampire who'll do anything to break the chains of boredom and indulge himself in his sick desires. 

“Awh, but we did. Darlin' this was our game.” Your eyes widened. What did he mean by that? Chocolates being a game? Maybe Ronin really lost it this time. 

“Why so shocked? Did’ja really think I would put a whole basket of chocolates at the entrance? Tsk, tsk, I thought you knew me better, love.” He tightened his hold around your waist. “As for my reward for winning-” Before he could finish the sentence you turned around and cupped his face with your hands. 

“Heyy why don’t you give me another chance? Don’t you think it’s too easy if you win without a little struggle Ro? Or are you just scared that I’d actually beat you?” Playing with his ego was a really convincing way to get Ronin to change his mind. After all he would have to prove you wrong now to keep his pride. 

“Heh, you’re so fuckin’ right sweetheart. Maybe you’re smarter than I expected.” He clicked his tongue and took a step back just to circle you. His eyes locked on you like a predator looking at his prey, well you weren’t far from the truth. He Is a predator, and you are his human lover, and sometimes a snack if he’s not in the mood to find a new person to change into a blood bag. 

“So, what are we playing now?” You asked, your gaze following his every mood. 

“What about a little hunt? Y’know, something thrilling.” He snickered. “Ya try to hide from me, if I find you, you lose.” There was that dangerous glint in his eye, the same look he would give you when he’s excited about something. 

“And how do I win?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. If there’s a reward maybe you’ll feel Nearly as eager to play as he is. 

“Good question my darling. How do you win…” He took a few steps towards you and you backed away with every new step he took, soon you felt the hard wall behind your back. 

He put his hand under your chin and looked into your eyes, you were hypnotised by the neverending void that kept many secrets within itself. Secrets you wanted to uncover one day. 

“If you manage to put this rose on me before I catch you, you win.” He placed a dried rose in your hand, it was black with all of its thorns still intact. The flower, even dead and dry for a while now, still didn’t lack beauty. Maybe it’s the deadliness that made it so charming? Maybe it was the same case for Ronin and the reason behind your lack of fear towards his vampirism. 

“Alright then, prepare to lose, Beaufort!” With a daring smile you ran through the hallway. 

You didn’t have a plan, heck you didn’t Even know if he was following after you. Damn Ronin and his damned ability to walk without making any sounds. You had one mission; getting that rose on Ronin at all cost. 

You ran through the hallways of Ronin’s castle, the dark corridors bathed in darkness and shadows, you could see the beautiful full moon through the big windows, usually covered by thick and long black curtains to prevent any sunlight from getting into the palace. You could hear your heartbeat, fastening with every second with every new turn you took or noise you heard. 

You weren’t stupid, you knew that Ronin would catch up to you at any given moment, even if he gave you time to run off, it would never be enough. He knows this castle better than you know the characters in your stories, and that meant that you’re in some serious trouble. 

It was worth the adrenaline though, being chased like this, as if your life was truly endangered, it made you feel alive. Like nothing could stop you from running. Your blood was hot, boiling even, your breath was fast, you were almost out of it. It all felt amazing, 

It didn’t take long until you heard loud and heavy footsteps somewhere behind you, panicking as you entered one of the many rooms in the castle’s left wing. You couldn’t see anything, it was far too dark for you pathetic human eyes, the only thing Visible for you was the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Your eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness and that's when you realised that you're even more fucked. It's the castle's throne room, you were there only once; when Ronin was giving you a tour around the castle. 

The room was beautiful, with two elegant thrones on a platform, overlooking the whole room, ready for the royal couple to greet their guests. Unfortunately, the thrones - even if extremely beautiful, made of the finest material, designed to be grand and eye-catching - were the only piece of furniture the room had to offer. 

You stood in front of two choices, hide behind the thrones or try to sneak out And Look for another room. The latter was less likely to happen, Ronin was too close, leaving now meant losing and you weren't willing to give up that easily. 

You moved as quietly as possible to the thrones at the End of the room and sat behind them. A hand to your mouth as you tried to calm your breathing and stay quiet. 

Thud. Thud. Thud. 

Ronin's footsteps were getting louder with every second, you heard the doors to the rooms next to yours open. It was horrifyingly exciting, knowing how close he is to finding you.

“Oh, writer darlin' where are you?” His voice came directly from behind the throne’s room doors. 

He was so close, too close. 

You had no means to escape, your hiding spot wasn’t helping either, you could only hope that he would walk past the throne room. If only hope and prayers really worked… 

You heard a creak when the door was pushed open, and steps echoed through the almost empty room, stopping in the middle of it. You held your breath, trying your best to make as little Noise as possible. Even your heart was too loud in that moment, each beat reaching your ears. You cursed yourself in your mind for choosing this room out of all the other available choices. 

You could hear Ronin getting closer to the thrones, but before he reached your hiding spot he stopped in his tracks and clicked his tongue. 

“Nah, They’re not here.” He said to himself, sounding disappointed. The sound of his steps getting further away from you was like a blessing you didn’t know you were awaiting. The door shut with a loud thud. You could finally breathe and decide on your next move, maybe even make a plan to actually win. 

You stood up from the floor, making your way towards the door with new found confidence, with Ronin making his way to the other rooms you should be able to chase him and put the flower on him. Before you could even walk away from the elegant seats, someone pushed you on one of the thrones and pinned you to it. 

“Awh darling, you lost, again.” Ronin’s face was Inches away from yours, you could see the shit-eating grin glued to his face. The disgustingly strong aura of confidence emanating from him. 

That bastard, of course it was a trap, you should’ve known it. Why would Ronin willingly skip over an obvious hiding spot and move on to another room? You’re such a fool, and it’s only because of some imaginary reward you would Never even get. Wow Y/N, you’re so smart. 

“So, what’s your reward?” You asked. You didn’t like the look he was giving you, it was too secretive. 

“Oh nothin’ much, watching you run around like an idiot was almost enough.” He titled your head back, tracing your neck with his thumb. “Almost. I’m starving, love.” He purred into your ear, his voice causing you to shiver. You swallowed, it was blood he was after. 

You looked into his eyes, he looked starved, just ready to bury his fangs in your neck. The thought alone, making your face flush. Your taste in men is really questionable… 

“Well, it’s your reward, take it.” He cackled at your reply, the sound sick, yet sweet to your Ears.

“With pleasure, my love.” He whispered into your ear, kissing the side of your head before his lips found their way to your neck. 

At first he was gentle, kissing your neck, but then he sank his teeth in it, the pain not unfamiliar, still unwelcome. You could feel his hold on your waist tighten, as he sucked on your blood, drinking it like he’s a starved animal getting food for the first time, like he’s an addict. After a while, the pleasure kicked in, the intimacy of it all fucking with your head. Ronin’s touch was tender, even if he was just taking some of your blood away from you. He still made sure that you weren’t about to pass out in front of him. 

When you started feeling lightheaded, Ronin recognised it, taking his teeth out of your neck, licking the small streak of blood that was running down your neck. 

“Happy valentines, baby.” He kissed your forehead. “Thank you for the sweet, sweet, meal.” 

Did you get the devil’s message, darlin’ reader?

Maria de la Rosa - Vampiric Perfect Angel.

For you, everything will be perfect, my sweetheart~

An elegant Angel was running around the kitchen, her perfect pink dress with decorative black roses spread on the floor making her look more majestic than usual. She was preparing for her very special day just for her lover, making sure that everything was perfect for her beloved’s visit. Every pastry and sweet was chosen with care, even the room was meticulously prepared for just the two of you. She wanted everything to be perfect. Ensuring that your Valentine’s date would be flawless and unforgettable.

She hummed to herself as she was taking the red velvet cake from the oven with protection gloves on. Servants and maids of De La Rosa’s castle were astonished to witness their young lady baking on her own—and doing it flawlessly—was a surprise. Maria’s excitement outweighed any concerns about the whispers and rumors amongst servants and maids. She could only care about her partner, her lover, the person she’ll be spending time with for the day till night.

My words will make your heart dance, my Angel.

Meanwhile, you were engrossed in writing a new novel—A vampire romance with a thrilling twist, something that Maria was especially eager to hear about. It was carefully crafted with intricate details in its scenes. You poured your heart and soul into words to create tension, passion, and the danger intertwined in its world. The story consumed your thoughts, Maria De La Rosa as your basis for your main character. After all, who else can depict the sweet lovable femme fatale other than your darling lover? You wanted a twist, the type of plot where it isn’t the usual Twilight and Dracula plot. You wanted the character to feel much more just like her, besides, it helps when you’re that hyperfixated over your love.

But with you, you know that she’s just Maria—even with her vampirism—she treats you better than all others.

And as for Maria? As usual, she is caught up in everything a born vampire princess could be busy with: grand balls, meetings with her new chamberlain (the one who manages the personal affairs of the princess) who was a much better improvement over Finian, and challenges with modeling as a vampire. Explaining to people that she only likes pictures done with one specific camera made her look like a picky spoiled rich girl, but what can she do? She can’t just tell everyone that it’s because regular cameras can’t capture her due to her vampirism.

Red velvet cake, one of our shared favorites

Maria finally cuts the cake, the servants take the trays of food and freshly brewed tea to the room Angel had prepared. The clock was ticking, it was almost time for your arrival, she was excited, all giddy and giggly. She made sure everything was in place, the vibe and the lights perfectly done for their little date. She checked her appearance: makeup, dress, anything that seemed out of place were retouched before she walked out down the corridors and by the main entrance.

The De La Rosa castle was adorned in a palette of white and rose gold, exuding elegance and perfection —an ideal reflection of a family renowned for producing one of the world's greatest models. She was, without a doubt, their most treasured jewel.

Finally, the door was open and there you stood, Y/N, with the matching color scheme outfit she sent to you. Magnificent clothing done with its finest for this very day, and in your hand was a gift. This was Maria de la Rosa’s partner, someone she cherished dearly and held close to her heart. You were always ready to listen to her, visit her whenever she asks you to, go out for little dates with her like the ones in the romantic movies she loved so much. You were a dream come true, the one who accepted her vampirism and let her be herself. It meant more to her than she could ever express, she was grateful.

She walks towards you with the knowing sweet smile, “My love! You’re here!” her eyes sparkled in delight at your presence.

Your hand reaches her cheek, a soft chaste kiss on her lips from your own. You missed her, you knew that and she did too, “I missed you, love” you whisper sweet nothings to her, a soft smile forms your lips.

Maria, flustered as ever, smiles with you. Her warmth radiating at the quiet moment, she leans her forehead against yours to feel your presence, a lingering moment for both of them as the world seems to fade away from them. Their heart beats in sync with their soft breaths mingling before their eyes flutter open and lock into one another with unspoken emotion.

She giggles, breaking the silence, “As much as I’d like to stay like this quietly with you… You’d miss out what I have planned if we stayed like this,”

“Yeah?” You say with your thumb caressing her cheek softly, “I didn’t know you had something prepared, I was just thinking about spending the day with you at the lounge.” you chuckle

“Well it’s Valentine’s day, silly! What more than to spend a special day with your lover?” she smiles charmingly

“Yeah… What more than to spend a day with my princess, my angel, my loving Maria,” You trail your hand down to hers, “Either way, I’m happy to see you. I can’t wait to tell you about the novel I have in progress.” Maria beams in happiness before entwining her fingers with yours.

“Then let’s go~”

Just us, no princess work, no modeling, no pretty diamonds.

It’s just you and me, baby. Person to person.

Your lips on mine as you held my hand. A caress on my cheek, and our hearts flourishing under the moonlight.

It was a night neither of you would forget—a perfect blend of indulgence and romance. The evening had unfolded like a well-orchestrated symphony, with each course arriving in harmonious succession. You had savored a delicate appetizer, followed by a carefully chosen side dish that complemented the rich flavors of the main course. Every bite was shared with quiet laughter, soft glances, and gentle touches. And just when the night couldn't seem any more perfect, dessert arrived—a sweet finale to an already unforgettable evening, lingering on your lips like the memory of a perfect kiss.

Sweet sweet red velvet cake~

Maria lifted a small bite to your lips, her eyes watching you with quiet anticipation as you took it in. The sweetness melted effortlessly on your tongue, rich and delicate, a perfect balance of flavor that made you sigh in delight. A soft chuckle escaped her as she caught the way your expression shifted-eyes fluttering shut for a moment, savoring the taste. She knew you loved it, and that knowledge alone filled her with warmth. "I knew you'd like it," she mused, her voice laced with satisfaction as she playfully tapped the spoon against your lips, silently offering another bite.

“Mm~ and speaking of sweets~” You hummed as you brought out your little gift to her. Delicious handmade chocolates, icing so striking one would never be able to stop craving.

Maria was astonished, gaze shifting from the chocolate to your eyes. “You’re not the only one who prepared a little something,” you mused as you brought a chocolate to her lips, “Go on, princess. Try it,” you coo with a smile.

Maria took a small bite of the chocolate, savoring its chewy sweetness as it melted on her tongue. But what caught her off guard was the lingering aftertaste—a distinct metallic tang that sent a shiver down her spine. She hadn't noticed at first, but now her eyes drifted to your fingertips, where droplets of blood trickled down, staining the remnants of the chocolate. Your smile gleamed in the dim light, unreadable, almost teasing. But Maria knew—without a doubt—what she had just tasted.

“Do you like it?” You ask with a teasing tone, Maria confirmed it—it was blood—she could taste the fear of its blood, her partner was certainly something. Something she never expected even.

“Who did you kill to make this?” She asked, taking another bite of the remaining chocolate, this time the metallic taste came with its sweetness rather than its after taste.

“It’s no one you should worry about,” You replied, retracting your hand away before she suddenly grabs it and licks the remaining blood off your finger tips.

“Wow, didn’t think princess Maria would be this messy with blood,” You smirk, catching sight of the blood on her lips and instinctively reaching out to wipe it away. As your fingers brush against her skin, you pull back—but Maria doesn't look away. Her gaze locks onto you, something shifting in her expression, something primal. Then, you realize why. A faint sting lingers on your fingertip, a small wound now seeping crimson. Her sharp tooth must have grazed you. Slowly, deliberately, she licks the blood from her teeth, her blue eyes darkening with an unspoken hunger as she stares into yours, filled with an undeniable need.

She stood up from her seat and circles around the table, locking eye contact with yours. She placed hand over your cheek before taking your thumb, “Poor you, you grazed through my teeth…” she coos softly before licking your thumb, then capturing a needy kiss from your lips which you returned. You can hear each other’s hearts beating in sync, the taste of your own blood that she loves better.

Slowly, Maria pulled away first, her eyes fluttering open to lock with yours, “I like your blood better…” she coos with soft heat rising up her cheeks. She was definitely flustered.

“Mm… I don’t mind if it’s you,” You held her hand softly, kissing her palm with tenderness.

She smiles softly, recapturing your lips into a passionate deepened kiss. You could feel her dominate you, for a princess full of sweet romance, she also liked these private sessions with you. She thinks you’re cute this way, that you’ve willingly submitted to her. Her special red rose and you liked that.

She pulls away, a breathy gasp escaping your lips as her softness traces from your jawline down to your neck. Each touch is slow, deliberately heated yet tender, carrying a passion that makes your pulse race. You shift slightly, granting her better access, and she wastes no time burying herself against you. Soft, lingering kisses pepper your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your gaze flickers to the mirror, catching the sight of your lips-smeared with red, whether from her lipstick or the aftermath of your fevered embrace, you can't quite tell. Then, without warning, a gentle bite. Her grip around your waist is firm yet delicate as she drinks from you, and you close your eyes, exhaling a slow sigh. There's discomfort, but it's the kind that feels intoxicating, the kind that keeps you wanting more.

Maria knows how to control herself, how to take just enough without hurting you, but tonight-tonight is an exception. She drinks you in as if you're the richest, most forbidden wine, and it takes everything in her not to indulge too much. A hand moves behind her, pulling her closer as you press your lips to her bare shoulder, surrendering to the night.

God your blood is so intoxicating, I desire you right now, baby

She pulls away just in time, her blue eyes scanning your face with concern. A soft furrow forms between her brows, her lips slightly parted as if about to ask if you're alright. But before she can, you offer a small, reassuring smile, cupping her cheek gently. Without hesitation, you lean in, brushing your lips against hers—still smeared with crimson. The taste lingers, rich and intoxicating, a reminder of the moment you just shared.

Minutes pass, the air between you shifting from heated to something softer, something intimate in a quieter way. After freshening up, you both settle onto the plush couch, plates in hand, indulging in the sweet decadence of dessert. The velvety richness melts on your tongue, but it's Maria's presence that truly satisfies. She listens intently as you talk about your book, your voice always music to her ears.

“I wonder who that main character is based on~” Maria coos softly into your ears prompting a giggle from you

“Guess.” You replied with a tease in your tone

Maria giggled softly, God you love her laugh so much, “I’m so happy… Being with you makes me so happy…” she whispers.

Her fingers trace lazy patterns on your arm, her body curled close to yours as if drawn by an invisible force. The conversation flows effortlessly, punctuated by soft laughter and knowing glances.

“Y/n…”

“Yes, Maria?”

“Gosh… I love you so much… My sweet lover…” she says with a sigh before continuing, “Loving you will never be regrettable at all, you’ve shown me so much unconditional love and acceptance that it almost feels too much… And honestly? I thought romance died before you came to my life… I never knew that all I needed was someone like you, someone who understood me, someone who I can be vulnerable with and feel accepted. Someone who sees the real me, who doesn’t fear or flinch by my presence. I’m so happy that it’s you…” Her eyes looked glassy, but you knew that she was happy and content.

“Maria…”

“Y/n…”

“I love you, my Angel…”

“I love you too, Y/n…”

“My life changed when I met you… You were someone I was happy that I never ran away from. That I chose to love you. My heart… it’s beating so fast…” You say as she places her hand on your chest

“I know… Can you hear mine too?” She placed your hand on her chest. Both hearts beat in sync. Lost in the eyes full of love.

This time, you make your first move. You shift on your seat, now seemingly taller than her as you capture her lips into a soft tender kiss which she returned. You could hear it now, your hearts beating faster and louder. God her lips always felt so good, I love her so much

You pull away from her, caressing her cheek as she held your hips with heat rising on her cheeks, then finally…

“Happy Valentine’s day, Maria. I love you,”

“Happy Valentine’s day to you too, mi amor. I love you too,”

You both lean against each other’s foreheads under the quiet dim light enjoying the quiet romance and unspoken emotions as your eyes flutter closed.

The taste of your blood was like the sweetness of love I never would have expected. Like a rich forbidden wine, you were more than just treasure.

You are...an indulgence I can never resist, a temptation that lingers on my tongue and seeps into my very being. You are the craving I cannot tame, the desire that turns my restraint to ash. Every drop of you sings a melody of longing, and with each taste, I fall deeper-helplessly, willingly.

I love you, Reader. Happy Valentine’s to you, I hope I made you feel so loved

Valentin Viljoen - Eternal Follower of Justice.

In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came…

The voice which calls to me and speaks my name

You stand before your mirror, adjusting the delicate fabric of your attire for tonight's grand event. The anticipation hums beneath your skin, a mixture of curiosity and nervousness. A letter had arrived earlier this week, carried by his owl—an elegant, meticulously sealed forest green invitation to an evening at his castle. A grand ball, no less. He was never one for extravagant public affairs, always preferring the solitude of dimly lit corridors and whispered conversations. And yet, tonight, he had arranged something grand, something meant for the “two of you” that is yet to be discovered.

You step outside, the sound of wheels settling on cobblestone pulls your attention. The carriage awaits, an ornate masterpiece bathed in the golden glow of lanterns, it’s like Cinderella all over again, taking you to your loving prince. It stands there like an extension of him, silent yet commanding, as if his very voice calls you forward just like in your dreams, he always appears shrouded, veiled in mystery and shadow. And yet, you yearn to unmask what lies beneath—to see his loving eyes unobscured, to trace the contours of his face with your fingertips, to know him fully, beyond the secrecy he keeps.

And do I dream again?

For now I find

The phantom of the opera is there inside my mind…

You take a deep breath and step forward. The coachman, dressed in fine but muted attire, offers his gloved hand to assist you. With practiced ease, he helps you into the carriage, the plush forest green interior swallowing you in an embrace of luxury. The door shuts with a soft click, sealing you within this moment, this journey toward a night of unknown promises.

The carriage lurches forward, wheels rolling steadily against the path, carrying you toward the mystery that is him.

Let’s dance, my love.

You arrive by the main entrance of the castle as the wheels of the carriage rolled through the cobblestone till it fades away. And once again, you hear a voice call out to you.

“Come to me, my angel”

You take a step forward and push the giant gates which presents the beautiful dim corridors of a forest green interior with white accent. This was not your first visit, however you were still at awe with the luxury he lives in.

“Angel to my music…”

The faint strains of an orchestra reach your ears, the melody weaving through the walls like an enchantment meant only for you. Each note feels familiar, as if composed for this very moment-strings trembling with longing, piano keys whispering secrets only your heart can understand.

Then, amidst the harmony, you hear it. His voice. Soft, distant, yet unmistakable. It calls to you, threading through the music like an invisible hand guiding you forward. A hallucination, perhaps. Or maybe, just maybe, it is real.

Your pulse quickens as you step closer, the towering doors of the ballroom standing before you like a threshold between reality and something far more ethereal. The golden carvings on the frame glisten under the chandelier's glow, an unspoken invitation. All it takes is a single push.

With a deep breath, your fingers press against the cold surface of the door. It yields under your touch, gliding open effortlessly, and at that moment, the music swells welcoming, beckoning. A sea of what you thought would be an opulence and masked faces that should stretch before you was none other than an entire orchestra and a room of emptiness, the ballroom bathed in a golden radiance. And yet, amidst the grandeur, your gaze searches for only one.

The one who called you here.

“V…” You mutter under your breath

He smiles at your presence, arm outstretched beckoning you closer, “Sing once again with me… Our strange duet,” he steps forward, which draws you in like some hypnotic spell that lures you into his arms.

“My power over you… grows stronger yet” He held your hand, his voice deep and majestic like he could sing in an opera.

You try to draw near him, yearning for his mask, “And though you turn from me, to glance behind” he sang, filling your cheek as he restricts you from getting near his mask in a form of teasing.

The phantom of the opera is there…inside your mind.

“Eyes on me, my love” He whispers as he holds your waist firmly, eyes locked together as you make a quick turn. Steps in sync with his perfectly like he knew what he was doing, a man in control of you. His loving angel.

Those who have seen his face always draw back in fear. Whispers surround him like a ghostly shroud, murmured tales like stories of horrors and secrecy. Claiming curses of his features that his mask is not an accessory but a necessity, hiding something no mortal should ever lay their eyes upon. Others merely insist that he’s in vain, unwilling to let the world see the truth that lies beneath.

You’ve always been curious.

What do you hide underneath?

Unlike the others, you do not flinch in fear. No, never at the mystery that surrounds him. He chose you—his partner— for this very reason. Instead, it draws you in like the pull of the moon on the tide. He gives you a twirl before you step closer to him again, hand reaching the hem of his mask before he takes your hand gently with a glint of tease in his eyes.

He’s definitely playing with you. It was not his thing, but perhaps this was the “special gift” that he mentioned in his invitation.

The music swells, and you move in perfect harmony, a waltz woven from unspoken words and the steady rhythm of your hearts. His soft smile never wavers, a silent promise of devotion as he leads you effortlessly across the ballroom floor. Every step is deliberate, each turn filled with passion, as if the world around you has faded into nothingness. The grand chandeliers cast their golden glow upon you both, your eyes set only for each other.

(My) Your spirit and (My) your voice in one combined..

The phantom of the opera is there, inside (my) your mind.

His hands rest firmly on your waist, guiding you with unwavering confidence, ensuring that not even a moment of imbalance could break this sacred dance. The fabric of your attire flutters as he spins you, his grip unwavering, a silent vow that he will never let you fall.

He’s there the phantom of the opera

And then, as the orchestra reaches its crescendo, he lifts you effortlessly, elevating you above the floor, where you gleam beneath the enchanting light. 

To the gleaming lights of the grand chandeliers and orchestra, you are a vision of grace, two souls lost in a dance that speaks of longing and eternity. But to him, you are something more—his muse, his melody, the angel to his music beneath the moonlit sky.

You both part as you gracefully land, yet curiosity gnaws at you, urging you forward. The music swells, reaching its peak, mirroring the quickening rhythm of your heart. Beckons you a hand to his mask, a silent invitation, his gaze drawing you in-closer, ever closer.

It’s your chance.

“Come my angel.”

You take a cautious step forward, and he mirrors you by stepping back, an unspoken challenge lingering in the air. Soon, your movements fall into perfect harmony, a delicate yet intense game unfolding between you. Each step becomes a silent conversation, the space between you shrinking and expanding like the ebb and flow of a tide. The music swells, each note weaving an intricate tale, a dramatic crescendo of longing and mystery. It is as if the entire ballroom is holding its breath, captivated by this dance, by the tension, by the anticipation of what comes next.

You want to know what’s underneath, you’re craving to know. You want to reach your hands out and fill both his cheeks and kiss him. You want to be able to look into his eyes and cherish the mysterious beauty he hides no matter how scary he is. Before you know it, he stepped out of the ballroom leaving the door open like he knew you’d follow.

And you did.

You rush out of the ballroom, your heart pounding as you search for your lover. "V?" you call out, your voice echoing through the grand hall. Your eyes scan the dimly lit surroundings until you catch sight of him standing by the staircase, a knowing smile playing on his lips. Without a word, he turns and ascends the steps, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the second floor. Without hesitation, you follow, your footsteps quickening as he vanishes into the left wing of his castle, drawing you deeper into his world.

This is just the beginning of our dance, my angel

Through every dimly lit corridor, the moonlight spills in through arched windows, casting long, ghostly shadows along the stone walls. Your heart pounds against your chest as you push forward, chasing after the fleeting figure ahead. His presence is near—you can feel it in the faint whisper of footsteps, in the distant rustle of fabric brushing against the cold floor. Every turn leads you deeper into the castle, but the more you pursue him, the farther he seems to slip from your grasp.

It dawns on you—how little you truly know about him. His face, forever hidden behind his mask, remains a mystery. His voice, haunting yet gentle, has always kept you captivated, yet his true nature remains elusive. He is an enigma wrapped in darkness, and yet, in the depths of your heart, there is no doubt. You do not need to see his face to know the love he bears for you, unconditional and unwavering. It is something you cherish now more than ever, something you yearn to protect—to hold onto for eternity.

I’m right here, my love. Always here.

You come to an abrupt halt, your breath hitching as the atmosphere thickens around you. The room ahead glows with a faint, ethereal light, casting soft shadows that dance along the polished floors. Then, his voice—velvety, haunting, and intoxicating—calls out to you once more, drawing you in like a siren's song. His invitation is unspoken yet irresistible, and with a steadying breath, you push the door open, stepping into the unknown.

The sight before you is nothing short of breathtaking. A grand yet intimate room, adorned with dark wooden furniture that exudes timeless elegance, welcomes you. The air is rich with the scent of aged books and a hint of something sweet. At the center stands an exquisitely set table, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight. But what truly captures your attention is the confection laid atop it—a decadent cake, its intricate design shaped into a heart, a macabre yet oddly beautiful symbol of devotion. Surrounding it are delicate chocolates, each crafted with care, as if whispering sweet temptations.

And then, there he is—your lover, waiting, watching. His presence commands the room, his masked gaze never straying from you. His lips curl into the faintest smile, a silent promise of the night yet to unfold.

“V…”

“Y/n.”

He takes your hand and kisses the ridge of your hand before planting a soft kiss onto your lips that you so fell for. He fills your cheek, deepening your kiss passionately before pulling away.

“Did you enjoy our dance?” He asked softly to which you nod in confirmation

“I did, it was unexpected but… I did” He chuckles at your response before bringing you to the table where he sat you at the beautiful chair in front of the cake.

“A sweet delicacy, made for you.” He held a plate of slice ready for you

You giggle softly, “I want to ask a favor, just one.” your gaze locked into his

“Which is?”

“Your face”

“No”

You fill his cheeks with your delicate hands, “Pretty please?”

He sighs, “You’ll fear what’s underneath, my love”

“You’re talking to a human who fell for their vampire lover, how worse can it get?” Your words hint with teasing, “Besides, isn’t trust a foundation of the relationship?” You draw closer to him, your hand placed by the hem of his mask. He doesn’t stop you, not this time—instead, he locks within your gaze, curiosity piqued his interest at your reaction to what you could express.

At last, with determined hands, you lift his mask, unveiling the mystery that has long been hidden from you. Beneath the polished porcelain lies a face marked by a burn scar—an imprint of the past that others recoil from, a sight that has instilled fear in many. But not you. Never you.

Where the world sees tragedy, you see resilience. Where they see imperfection, you see beauty—a tale of survival written upon his skin. The mask slips from your grasp, falling to the floor with a hollow clatter, forgotten in the moment. Without hesitation, you cradle his face in your hands, tracing the lines of his features as if memorizing every inch.

His breath hitches, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, but you silence his doubts with a fervent kiss. It is not pity, not mere acceptance, but devotion—a promise that you love him as he is, unmasked, raw, and real.

I am never afraid of you, sweetheart.

Both you and your lover spent in the quiet intimacy of the moment, the low hum of candlelight flickering against the dark wooden walls. A gentle conversation flows between you, soft and unhurried, as if time itself has slowed to savor this night.

He lifts a delicate bite of cake to your lips, his fingers steady, his amber eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "I promise, you'll love it," he murmurs with a knowing smile, his voice velvety smooth, coaxing.

The scent of rich chocolate and something subtly unfamiliar fills your senses as you part your lips, allowing him to feed you. The warmth of his fingertips lingers near your skin, an unspoken invitation to trust him. And as the flavors melt on your tongue-sweet, decadent, and strangely metallic—you find yourself lost in his gaze, wondering just what kind of promise he has truly made.

Your brows knit together in confusion as you let the strange taste settle, your mind struggling to place it. It's familiar, yet foreign, a contradiction that leaves you uneasy. Slowly, you lift your gaze to V, who sits across from you, his expression unreadable. He watches you intently, a soft, knowing smile playing on his lips, as if he is waiting for you to understand.

“Did you like the heart?”

You stared at him, your lips still tingling from the strange mix of flavors. It wasn't like him to do something so peculiar—to feed you an actual heart-shaped cake, so lifelike it almost felt like a taunt. The chewy texture, the metallic hint beneath the sweetness, it was... unnerving.

Your brows furrow as you meet his gaze. He's watching you closely, that ever-present, knowing smile playing at his lips. There's something in his eyes-amusement, curiosity, perhaps even anticipation. 

"What?" you finally ask, your voice quieter than intended.

His fingers trail along the edge of the plate before he leans in just slightly, his breath warm against your skin. "Did you like it?"

You swallow, trying to shake the unease creeping up your spine. It was just cake... wasn't it?

“Is that..?”

He tilted his head, his smile not wavering, “Is that what?”

“A heart?”

“Yes, a heart shape” he teases you lightly

You smack V’s arm, “You know what I mean!”

He chuckles, “Yes, an actual heart inside the cake, how did you like it?”

“I mean— I don’t mind it, but I never expected a live heart from you. Maybe from a certain someone, but never you. You’ve been awfully playful tonight” V responds with a laugh

“I guess I wanted to try a little something for tonight, just us.” He leans against your neck, planting a soft kiss before holding you closely

“Care to stay over?” He asks

“I thought you’d never ask.”

You kiss his burn scar softly, “Happy Valentine’s day, Valentin”

He smiles softly before pressing a chaste kiss on your lips, “Happy Valentine’s day to you too, Y/n dear”

The moonlight streamed through the grand windows, casting a soft glow across the room, illuminating the quiet moment shared between you. Shadows danced along the walls, but neither of you paid them any mind. Instead, your gazes remained locked, speaking in a silent language only the two of you could understand.

There was no need for words, no grand declarations—just the depth of his dark eyes meeting yours, a silent promise exchanged in the stillness. His fingers brushed against yours on the table, a fleeting touch, yet enough to send warmth through your skin.

All he needed was you. In this moment, in this quiet sanctuary of moonlit devotion, nothing else mattered.

I will sing and dance for your music, my phantom.

My prince under the moonlight and hidden in the shadows.

Valentin Viljoen, you’re the unseen hand that guides my every step.

A love both haunting and eternal, forever ours to keep.

Happy Valentine’s day, my loves.

Misaki Katsuo - Sweet Even as Undead.

You were sitting in your house, eyes locked on the computer screen in front of you. You were working on a news report, that’s how your nights looked for over a month now. Your work was consuming you, taking away your life, locking away anyone. 

Including your partner Misaki. You wanted to make time for them, you really did, you even planned a whole evening of attractions for valentine's day, but it all went to hell once your phone called. Your team needed a new report about a vampire victim, seriously Ronin could take a break for one night. 

You sighed as you looked at the time, the clock almost showed seven. “Great another day spent working.” You murmured to yourself while you outstretched your arms. You weren’t even halfway done with the report. It was too much for you, you just wanted to hop onto the Bloodthirsty Losers server and spam your partner with all the “I miss you” and “I love you” messages you owed them. 

“Fuck, I’m hungry.” You mumbled when your stomach felt way too empty and painful at the same time. You stood up, pushing your office chair back, almost causing it to fall. Not like you cared, you just wanted to eat, anything would work as your perfect meal at this point, okay maybe besides human meat - you’re not Angel after all. 

You made your way to the kitchen, frowning when the only thing you saw was the yellow white reflecting the empty, white shelves of your fridge. Of course you didn’t have food, you haven’t left your house for the past week. You groaned, not in the mood to go to the store to buy instant noodles and stuff yourself with them until you forget about hunger completely. What a nutritious meal Y/n really, you’re outdoing yourself. You were about to get out your phone and call for a food delivery. 

Expect the unexpected, silly. 

The sound of your doorbell ringing filled your house. Someone was really trying to get through to you, pressing against the switch without a single pause, creating a prolonged annoying noise. 

“I’m coming! Jesus Christ…” You grumbled and made your way to your door, expecting to see an annoying girl scout trying to sell some Valentine’s Special cookies in the shape of a heart, you were considering it being your luck if the scenario was true, but what or rather who you saw on the other side of the door was beyond your wildest expectations. 

Misaki stood on the other side of the door, wearing an outfit consisting of shorts and a very ruffly elegant shirt, both were white with a pink gradient. She looked very elegant and cute. You noticed a tote bag full of… something, hanging from her shoulder, it piqued your curiosity but before you could even ask anything…

“Oh gosh! Baby finally!” Misaki exclaimed excitedly, throwing their arms around you and squealing happily when they embraced you. 

You were caught off guard. This visit was definitely unexpected, but not unwelcome. You missed them, dearly, so having them here, in your arms, happily holding you tightly was truly wonderful. 

“Ah!” You yelped, surprise still present on your face. “Misaki, sweetheart, what are you doing here?” 

“Ah!” You yelped, surprise still present on your face. “Misaki, sweetheart, what are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to see you, duh! You weren’t online for a while and I, and everyone else, got worried you dummy.” She stepped back and locked the door that was wide open for the whole time. “I hope you’re hungry because we’re going to bake brownies!” They didn’t give you any time to answer, kicking their shoes off and going to your kitchen. 

You wanted to huff, or argue, but you could only giggle and follow them with a stupid smile on your face, warmth filling your heart and making this evening especially enjoyable. All giddy and excited entered the kitchen to see Misaki taking out the different ingredients needed for brownies with the addition of strawberries. 

“Strawberries? Really?” You asked when you stood next to them, leaning on the kitchen counter. 

“What did you think I’d want to use for the filling? Blood? Sorry babes I only drink blood when the crazy gal in me wakes up.” They joked and took one of the strawberries into their hand. Misaki closed the distance between you and held your chin with their free hand. “Say ah~” She held the strawberry right in front of your lips. You rolled your eyes playfully and open your mouth, accepting her offering happily, 

“Okay, let’s get to baking or we’ll eat all of the strawberries.” You put your hands on their shoulders and turned them around. “I’m starvinggg.” You whined and gently pushed them towards the counters. 

A little mess never hurt nobody. 

Baking with Misaki was an… experience for sure. Your whole kitchen looked like a storm just went through it, flour everywhere, some eggs on the floor and the countertop, cocoa powder all over Misaki’s white shirt. You were trying to mix the cake mix while Misaki was clinging to your side, her head resting on your shoulder. 

Unexpectedly they pushed you gently, your hand slipping, some of the mix getting onto your wrist and hand. You huffed in annoyance and looked at Misaki. 

“Misaki, please be mor- what are you…?” You were at a loss for words when Misaki grabbed your forearm and pulled your arm to her mouth and… started licking the substance off of your hand. “Misaki, baby, darling, I know that living in a trailer might’ve messed up with your pretty lil head, but I do have running water that I could clean my hand with.” You said with an amused tone, shaking your head in disbelief. 

They let go of your hand once they finished their “job” and looked at you with a proud mischievous smirk. “Yeah, but then the cake would go to waste, dummy!” She poked your nose with a sweet cackle. “Okay let’s finish this! And then, I’ve got a surprise!” 

“What kind of surprise?” You gave them a look, what new idea could that sweet idea of their makeup? 

“If I tell you it won’t be a surprise! Now chop chop! We don’t have all night to bake.” They stuck out their tongue at you. You just playfully pinched their cheek and started working on the brownies again.

The stars in the sky were made for us. 

Misaki was holding your hand as they were guiding you to the “surprise”. They decided to blindfold you, apparently seeing would destroy everything, you decided to not question their decision. Whatever made your wonderful partner happy you would agree to do. 

“Are we there?” You asked, shouting to them because of the wind blowing at your face. 

“A few more minutes!” They shouted back with an excited chuckle, you could feel yourself being pulled harder when Misaki started to run. You ran behind her, trying to not stumble against your own feet or the ground. The ground beneath your feet was uneven, hard, in some places you could feel yourself stopping over something very fragile and easy to bend,

Your surroundings were quiet, no cars, no people, just you, Misaki and a bird here and there. The wind wasn’t so strong anymore, it was a light breeze, you heard it swaying the trees, their leaves making a peaceful melody, a song for the two of us. 

“We’re here~!” 

You felt two cold hands gently lifting the scarf they used to blindfold you up. Your eyes needed a second to adjust to your new surroundings. Finally, once they adjusted, you could look around, the darkness of the night wasn’t that overwhelming, you could see perfectly well. 

You were in the middle of a meadow, the flowers were all wilted, some trees had some leaves on them, but most were naked, their leaves on the ground, dried and dead. A snowless winter wasn’t thought of as beautiful, yet to you, the sight was mesmerizing. Seeing the earth die, just for it to come back to life and be all colourful in two months? It reminded you of your relationship with Misaki. There will be moments when work may consume you, keep you in its unbreakable chains, but she will come in, barge into your life with that sweet mischief painted all over her face, ready to steal you away from work and cause chaos. 

Even Gods won’t be able to destroy this beautiful connection. 

“Do you like the spot I picked out?” They asked, squealing happily. If Misaki was a dog, her tail would be wiggling like crazy by now. 

“Mhm! It’s deadly beautiful.” You said and took a step towards them, whispering into their ear, “Just like you, my dear.” 

Misaki’s face flushed as they punched your shoulder gently. 

“Staphh! I’m the one who’s supposed to be dorky and made you all cute and blushy today.” They huffed, trying to suppress the beaming smile that was forming on their face. 

“You’re the dorkiest and cutest.” You chuckled, patting their head. Seriously, they’re so much like a cat sometimes. A cute little kitty… Yeah you can see the vision. 

“Are we planning to stand here for god knows how long?”  

“Pfft! Of course not you little idiot! What do you think I stole your blanket for?” They poked your forehead with their index finger. “Be a sweetie and hold this for me.” They gave you their bag and took out a blanket, it was something you owned for ages so you didn’t really care if it got dirty, or if they stole it from you, which realistically was bound to happen anyway. Somehow your wardrobe became emptier ever since Misaki started to visit you, sometimes you just leave a tshirt in the middle of a room and chuckle when you notice it being gone after Misaki leaves your house. 

They’re so adorable. 

You were laying down on the blanket, hand in hand with Misaki. Looking at the night’s sky, subtly glancing at Misaki from time to time. You couldn't help yourself, she just looked so beautiful in the moonlight, her eyes reflecting the stars when she spoke about them. 

Jesus, you missed this so much, missed spending time with them, listening to them talking about their interests, or struggles, or just talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Watching their eyes sparkle with excitement when they pointed at a constellation, giggling sweetly when you tried to guess its name and was wrong. 

“Nooo, I told you a million times that it’s not the little bear! Wow, you’re such a great listener.” 

You scoffed, finding their playful frustration with you just adorable. “Awh, I’m so sorry sweetie, I’m always so focused on looking at you it slips my mind to listen too.” You moved closer to them, wanting to kiss their cheek, but before you could do that they sat up and pointed at the sky. 

“Ohmygodohmygod! Look! It’s the meteor shower!” 

You looked up at the sky, the view just breathtaking. You could see the sky light up with new lights, passing through it quickly and making a memorable effect. You felt like you were watching a performance, beautiful, engraved in your mind permanently. 

“Don’t just look at it! Make a wish.” Misaki shook you, tearing you away from your thoughts. You looked at them, their smile was all you needed to know what wish you wanted to make. 

I wish for this moment to last forever. 

I love you so much Misaki, I wish for more time to spend it all with you. 

I wish to spend every valentine’s day with you. 

For eternity. 

“I love you sweetheart.” You whispered to them, the words only meant to be heard by them. 

“I love you too, Y/n.” They replied, kissing you before you could say anything more. 

Let’s be together forever. 

My sweetest Y/n. 

Happy Valentine's day my lovely readers <3

[ani-iu]

[𝟏/𝟐] 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐃 | angel 𝐀𝐝𝐚𝐦 × female sinner 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 × 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐨

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You are a sinner in Hell, and you want to die—permanently. You own nothing, not even your soul, and struggle every day just to exist. That is why you view the annual exterminations as your only hope and the last pardon from God to sinners.

When the day comes and you lie down with an exorcist angel hovering above you, you accept your fate with a serene smile on your face. Finally, you will be free.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

But your executioner just had to be the first man himself.

Killing sinners when they want it is not as fun, which is why Adam presents you with a deal—your kind likes those, right? He will kill you, but only if you are willing to listen to him spill everything that is weighing on his soul. Dead tell no tales, and Adam really needs someone to talk to.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: angst; bittersweet ending; implied/referenced suicide; suicidal thoughts; implied/referenced rape/non-con; rape/non-con elements; drug use and addiction; self-image issues; canon-typical violence; explicit sexual content; dubious consent; unhealthy power dynamic expressed through cannibalism; religious imagery & symbolism; religious guilt; Adam being Adam; blood and gore; dead dove: do not eat. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7,6k.

// wrath of god

𝐘ou were falling for a while—as if everything slowed down the moment you jumped.

At first, you had your eyes opened. The crisp late November air was cold but not unpleasant against your sweaty skin—invigorating even—and when you opened your mouth, it tasted of a faint hint of ice and stifling city pollution. You never felt so at peace as you did at that moment, so you allowed your tense body to surrender itself to gravity rather quickly and without much fight. 

It was only once you got closer to splattering against the pavement that you finally closed your eyes and, with a palpitating heart, braced yourself for the impact. But it never came.

You just kept falling.

And falling.

Delayed confrontation with your painful death not only confused you but also twisted your stomach in a suffocating swirl of anxiety-inducing inevitability and sick giddiness. Was this the moment I would see my life flash in front of me?

You wished—no—you needed to catch a vivid glimpse of your sun-drenched childhood days, unclouded by the passing of time. It wouldn’t have changed a thing. You already made your irreversible decision. However, it felt strange not to cry in this circumstance, and perhaps childhood nostalgia would have been able to squeeze a few drops out of you. 

To be honest, you didn’t know who you were trying to please with the waterworks, but after spending your entire life seeking approval from others, you wanted to end it the same way by showing off to the first responders your glossy, tear-stained cheeks while they scrape off your mangled body from the asphalt.

Yet, all you could think of was the ten-minute countdown toward the end, which played inside your mind on a taunting loop—ending the moment you hopped over the railing to your death and starting again the moment the door of the balcony clicked shut behind you.

Click.

Back pressed against the glass, you stand frozen in place for a moment, simply listening to the clamour of the city below. Icy snowflakes fall over your shoulders, creating a comforting blanket of pure white, but your body quickly melts it all away as if something as tainted as you didn’t deserve its biting solace.

You clutch your phone close to your chest like it is the only thing keeping you grounded at the moment.

Carefully and without loosening your deadly grip, you peel the device away until the screen senses your face and unlocks itself, presenting you with a lengthy list of contacts.

Thumb gliding over the wet screen as you scroll through hundreds of numbers brings you back to reality alongside a heavy feeling in your gut. You are reminded of just how useless the device is to you.

But your desperation has grown since the last time you contemplated reaching out for help. To the point you even consider setting aside any animosity you hold toward your mother. You could reach out to her, but, childishly, you have her contact listed under her name, and, well, her name turns out to be common enough to have three namesakes saved in your contacts, making it impossible to decide which one to call.

Yet, you don’t even try to call at least one of them. Your pride is stuck inside your throat—impossible to swallow. So you lock your phone and drop it into your coat pocket, substituting the device for a pack of cigarettes.

The filter sticks to your dry lips while you intensely watch the flame repeatedly lose the fight against the wind. Yet, with furrowed eyebrows, you refuse to let the fire die—rolling your thumb against the steel wheel of the lighter to spark it up again. 

And again.

The moment smoke hits the back of your throat, you release a sigh of contentment before taking a shaky lungful. All the tension leaves your body as you lean against the safety railing and shake the ash into the darkness below, watching it dance together with the falling snowflakes in one harmonious rhythm.

"Tempting, isn't it?"

So much for peace and quiet.

You push away from the edge and twist your body toward the devil himself.

You just had to get in his way, had to catch his predatory gaze from across the room after one of the fashion shows you were modelling at. As if any of this was even my choice. Nothing was. I didn't choose him, but he chose me—to drug, defile, and pass around his pretentious, disgusting buddies.

Said man is leaning against the doorway, his dark hair blending in with the night. He turns his head toward the railing you are leaning against and follows his suggestion with a mocking laugh. "It’s not like you would be missed. After all, you are still here."

He leaves you after that, not bothering to close the door behind him. He knows you will come back. You always do.

Flicking the butt of the cigarette, you watch it free fall and just disappear into the pitch-black abyss below—used and discarded. You still remember how light the filter felt in between your fingers. I bet its fall is light too—

You take a step back as if the wet phone in your pocket has finally short-circuited and electrocuted you.

I am loved, you tell yourself as you push your freezing hand into your pocket until your bony fingers curl around the cell phone.

You haven’t entertained the thought of jumping until now. That should show that this isn’t your doing; these aren’t your thoughts. He is the parasite that infected yet another aspect of your life.

Pulling out the device with shaking hands, you stare at an empty lock screen.

He is lying, trying to get a rise out of you, your racing mind supplies as your grip tightens.

The screen turns dark, and the phone stays silent. You hold it for a while longer—your phone as well as your breath.

The air you exhale comes out as a puffy cloud. You look up at the sky and the falling snowflakes. They cover your face in small blotches, their coldness lasting a moment like a small, calming kiss against your burning skin. Then they melt and roll down your face and down your neck into the inside of your shirt.

Daring a glance over the railing, you slowly become mesmerised by the serenity and tranquillity that darkness provides.

And you can’t help but believe him.

No one would notice if I just disappeared.

With that last thought, you finally hit the ground with a jarring slam. The impact knocked the remaining air out of your lungs, paralysing your body with the most overwhelming pain and making any kind of movement impossible for a short moment. A bloodcurdling scream pierced right through the ringing in your ears, and only when you felt your throat burn did you realise that the screaming belonged to you—not some kind of wounded animal.

Pain was the clearest indication that you were still alive, and fearing that you had somehow managed to survive your attempt, you opened your eyes only to be confronted with a reality that was even worse than that.

The air around you was heavy like lead, crushing your whole being to the ground and filling your lungs with sour and bitter fumes. Everything around you was drenched in red. It was as if you fell through the earth's crust all the way to its magmatic middle. The seemingly impossible scenario would have provided an explanation for the long fall and seemed much more plausible to you than what the pentagram above would imply.

However, before you could comprehend your current predicament to the full extent, the dainty silver cross that you always wore around your neck began to burn you through your clothing, causing you to grip it without a second thought and frantically tug on the chain to take it off. It scorched your palm, filling the air with the nauseatingly sweet smell of burnt flesh.

If asked, you wouldn’t have been able to say for certain how long it took for it to finally break—you still don’t know—you just remember the short-lived relief, which quickly got overshadowed by the heavy implication of the aftermath.

There was an ugly taste in the back of your throat as you watched in horror how the precious metal melted in front of your eyes, becoming so hot that the silver puddle turned red and blended in with the ground beneath your feet. You wanted to scream in horror, but all that left your throat was a pathetic whimper. 

Not only were you in Hell, but this gesture felt like the God you prayed to your whole life just slammed the door of His home right in front of your face.

At some point, you had managed to drag yourself into a nearby alley to get your bearings. But the moment your heavy head hit the wall, one of the back doors opened, and you saw a demon being tossed out, their bones cracking as they rolled down the steep flight of stairs, landing right by your feet.

That's how you met Isaac—a sinner whom you genuinely considered a friend, even though you sometimes wondered if he was real or merely a figment of your imagination, given how he made your afterlife a tiny bit more bearable. His optimism was infectious, yet you couldn't miss the way his smile always hinted at the regret he never fully expressed to you. But it wasn't like you divulged much about yourself either, as fear always held you back despite your longing for connection.

That’s who you were—a coward. And you stayed true to that title, remaining hidden in the shadows even while Isaac was being butchered by an angel from Heaven.

You physically couldn’t move. Instead, you attempted to justify your cowardice by reminding yourself how agonisingly painful regeneration is for sinners. If you also got hurt, no one else would take care of your friend, so you stayed in your hideout until the early hours of the morning when the flock of angels finally retreated back into the sky. 

Once you approached the scene, all you saw were the fleshy pieces scattered on the brimstone. If you hadn’t witnessed the slaughter for yourself, there would be no way for you to put a name to the innards that were left behind. 

You sat there, cradling the wet chunks of meat in your frail hold, until night fell. It wasn't until the end of the next day that it finally dawned on you that Isaac was not coming back. 

And for the first time since your arrival in Hell, you smiled.

In your despair, you had forgotten that when God closes the door, He opens a window. And as you hugged the rotting meat closer to yourself until the mince spilt out of your embrace, you thanked God—in the form of a little prayer murmured under your nose—for showing you that window of hope.

Since then, the only thing on your mind has been next year's extermination.

» » »

It was definitely suicide that earned you a one-way ticket to Hell, yet sometimes you can't help but wonder if it's modelling.

It's a stupid thought, and it’s not like it matters that much now anyway, but being stuck in Hell—a place where sinners endure repetitive and eternal punishment tailored to their sins—and doing the same thing you did in life... damn it, you just can’t help but wonder if that’s what got you here in the first place.

After all, it seems that everything went downhill in your life and afterlife once you signed your modelling contract—both times signing away your soul.

Even so, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your eyes never squint when the stage lights cut you out from the surrounding darkness. And the rush you get—it’s almost worth everything unpleasant that comes with it. It’s your Achilles heel and the only thing you can still enjoy down here.

You also used to love the mirror and how it reflected your carefully crafted image, but now it mocks you. Your reflection is mostly blurry, and your features look so warped that it’s as if your mind can’t fully comprehend your new appearance. Guilt. Maybe this is your true punishment—not the eternal flames of Hell, but the torment of your own gaze.

So you meticulously navigate the house of mirrors that is Velvette’s studio, your head downturned in sorrow and shame like a wannabe penitent Mary Magdalene.

You conceal this weakness in character under the guise of being for others' eyes and not your own—a product of the Vees for the masses to consume. The self-effacing slogan is intriguing and seems to work for Velvette. You are a mannequin for her pretty clothes, and that’s it. She cares very little about your inner demons.

But nothing matters anymore, as you make your way down the hall for one last stop before you go to find yourself an empty spot somewhere in the streets. You doubt it will be difficult to do that. It shouldn't be crowded. Not tonight, at least.

For a year you suffered through Velevette’s verbal and physical abuse, avoided Vox’s reflective screen, and tried to stay away from Valentino. He was the most difficult of the Vees to avoid. And that is saying much, as even now—as you make your way down the hall—you keep pulling onto the silk lapels of your robe in a desperate attempt to hide your exposed skin from the blinking cameras seemingly at every corner.

You wanted to escape Valentino. You really did. But you were dependent on the overlord.

The pain from your fall never left you. It weighs on you like a heavy burden of sin. It’s Hell—you are supposed to suffer—yet coming to terms with it doesn’t make it better.

The drugs do. They placate the pain for a short while, but it all comes back sooner or later. Bit by bit, it returns slowly, like some sick joke. But it’s bearable at first, and it tricks you into thinking that you can manage it on your own. You don’t need the drugs. You don’t need him. However, then it comes back just as unbearable as it was before, and your resolve gets crushed, allowing Valentino to play a saviour again.

Your footsteps are quiet. The magenta carpeting below muffles the clicking sound your high heels make, and the further you venture away from Velvette’s side of the building, the sparser all the mirrors become and the higher your chin raises.

Finally, you come to a stop in front of the double door.

With your arms at your sides, you try to remind yourself of the shame you feel every time you leave his penthouse, that it’s not worth it. Valentino’s smoke made you retch, and his touch made you sick, but it all also reminded you of the time when you were alive. The most horrible parts of it, but for you—someone who is desperately clinging to the last remnants of their humanity—it was a comforting reminder.

You open the door to what can only be described as a sanctum of vanity. You step into Valentino’s carefully crafted reality, an empire built on charm and exploitation, bleeding hedonism from its every crevice. The air is clouded in a thick mist of smoke, hiding the true danger within. Yet even if you can’t see him, you can sense his presence and feel his invisible gaze undressing you from afar.

And suddenly your surroundings become insignificant.

"Ah, I was wondering if you would show your beautiful face tonight. Are you done playing hard to get?" A voice emerges somewhere from the thick, pink cloud of smoke. Valentino shifts from lying back on one of the opulent loveseats into a sitting position, legs spread apart, inviting. Coincidentally, he has also exchanged his usual attire for an old Hollywood-style robe, befitting his role as a film director, you suppose. It has flowing sleeves adorned with fluffy trim around the edges that Velvette would most likely describe as tacky and cheap-looking. "Come on, don’t keep me waiting, muñeca."

You don’t say anything as you step further into the room, the door closing shut behind you. Valentino already has you in his trap, ever since you took your first breath in this room. Your eyelids feel heavy until they drop to cover half of your irises, mirroring your body as you subserviently lower yourself onto your knees before the tall, hulking moth overlord and crawl closer to him.

You hear Valentino chuckle as he exhales another puff of smoke that caresses your skin with a featherlike softness and wraps around your ankles like chains, slowing down your movements by weighing down your limbs. The bliss you feel—as you inhale more of the vinaceous and just as intoxicating smoke—is overwhelming.

Your robe creeps up with every move, exposing your bare calves. Another move and it’s your thighs on display.

Valentino extends his hand to you like salvation—like a lifeline to which you can’t help but cling every single time, even if you say to yourself it’s the last time. Even if right now you feel utterly humiliated and disappointed with yourself.

Once he wraps his fingers around your wrist, he drags you like a ragdoll until you are kneeling between his spread-out knees. With your arm still in his bruising grasp, you support your weight on your free one, pressing your palm into a velveteen cushion beside his leg. Now that both of your hands are occupied, you lower your face towards his crotch, gazing up at him as you do.

As you are about to reach and lift the thin layer of his robe with your teeth, Valentino tugs your pliant body on top of his until you find your place in his lap instead. A startled gasp followed up by a little whine leaves your mouth—he caught you off guard, and the way he forcefully pulls you up hurts, but the little sound might as well be interpreted by the man as disappointment towards him taking away a sweet treat from you.

"Eager little thing you are." His tone is teasing and overlaid with his smooth, saccharine-sweet accent. But that is only the surface level. You can’t help but pick up a tinge of surprise in Valentino’s voice, like he is surprised by your audacity to try and avoid him and then attempt to suck his dick, the action that he regards as a prize rather than a torment to your jaw.

A shiver runs down your spine, and your empty stomach swirls with unease as all you can do is go along with whatever he has in store for you, even if it feels like being accompanied on a walk and seeing a guillotine at the end of the trail.

His lower set of arms brushes up and down along your thighs, eyes never leaving your body while you take that time to work on tugging and tearing at the silky fabric to expose more of your skin for his enjoyment, bearing it all to his hungry gaze. He hums in approval, moving his hands upwards from your thighs until his palms rest on your ass and hips, nudging you to get closer to him. 

Your knees tremble from the force and from having to support the weight of your body, so you sit down, feeling him already hard underneath the thin layer of his robe. You sigh, unable to suppress the involuntary throb between your legs which spurs you into grinding against Valentino just to feel some kind of relief for the itch you can’t seem to scratch on your own.

"I knew you would be back. There’s no way a little dependent slut like you could get away." His hands, still resting on your backside, take a firmer grip on the plump flesh, helping you move faster, harder. The friction sends pleasant tingles across your whole body, and you close your eyes, greedily enjoying the pleasure while it lasts, which you know won’t be long. You are so lost in it that you don’t even notice when one of Valentino’s hands from his upper set of arms roughly grabs you by your jaw, bringing your face in line with his. "Even if you try."

Valentino’s palm unassumingly rests on the column of your neck for a bit, until his grip tightens and he forcefully hoists you up till you are back on your knees. You roughly swallow down your answer and simply nod. If you weren’t Velvette’s prized model, Valentino would have snatched you for the studio a long time ago.

His lips stretch into a satisfied smirk, but it doesn’t bring you much comfort.

For a second your gaze flutters downwards, where you notice that his other hand has moved to grab his cock that already has beads of precum spilling to the surface of the tip. He smears it with his thumb and gives his whole length a few languid strokes with little amusement.

Finally, he lets go of your face and this time brings his bruising touch up to your waist while he aligns his tip with your dripping folds.

Valentino is not gentle, and he doesn’t waste time on anything apart from his own pleasure—pushing his cock inside you with no care for your comfort. The stretch, as your bruised inner walls try to accommodate him on such short notice and with no preparation, is excruciating.

You grab his shoulders and try to slow down the painful descent while taking deep breaths in order to relax your muscles before Valentino loses his patience.

Speaking of the man—he leans back to watch over the stiff, trembling mess that is you with a bored yet contemplative expression. One of his upper set of hands rests comfortably over the backrest of the loveseat, his fingers drumming against the velvet upholstery. The other brings the cigarette holder closer to his lips.

"I—ngh!" can’t is what you want to say but are unable to through gritted teeth. It was a mistake to come here, your inner voice screams at you, and you scream back, I know that!

Your cunt clenches around him as your body naturally tries to push him out of you, but then he blows another plume of the headily noxious smoke into your face and smirks as he watches how your pupils instantaneously dilate. 

What you inhale knocks down your defences and allows Valentino to forcefully thrust the rest of himself into you. All you can do is dig your nails into his shoulder blades and throw your head back in relief that the worst is over.

The force is a silent threat that you understand clearly, so before he gets angry, you pick yourself up on shaky legs and lower yourself down on his throbbing cock, adopting a pace you know he enjoys while bouncing through the pain.

Desperately searching for a way to take your mind off the situation, you peek over his shoulder at the window walls that provide you with the sprawling skyline of Pentagram City. But not for long.

As the sky behind the glass slowly turns into a slightly deeper and darker shade of vermilion, the outside vanishes, leaving you to stare at the reflection of the room, which makes Valentino’s penthouse look isolated and endless. 

You can see the outline of your figure reflected in the glass like your body is still there; you can feel it mounted on Valentino’s cock, but your consciousness is back there by the window, akin to a frigidly indifferent onlooker watching from a distance, judging.

The ache from the overlord’s bruising touch is gone, as is the excruciating pain lingering from your fall to damnation. You just feel numb.

The face of your reflection is a swirl of colour—a mix of your skin tone, the tint of your lips, and the hue of your irises—as if the image is so unrecognisable to your brain that it cannot even generate the most basic human features. You hardly remember what you look like as is; it would not matter if the reflection is accurate either way.

Valentino grabs you by the hair and brings your attention back to the present moment by aligning your face with his own. You could see yourself reflected in his glasses if not for the tears glossing over your vision.

Both of your lips are parted and inches away—his hot breath mixes with your own to the point you can taste the sickly sweet remnants of smoke on your tongue.

With half-lidded eyes, you pant out breathless little ah ah ah’s every time his hips meet with your own, and a little shudder accompanying his every exhale is the only indicator that he somewhat enjoys this and isn’t just doing it as a humiliating punishment.

Valentino is close. His thrusts have become more erratic, chasing after his own need for release.

You whimper when he lowers his head and, with hot lips, grazes the dewy skin pulled taut over your collarbone—not yet kissing it but close. Oh, so close. 

A girl can dream about a tender little kiss, and in a momentary lapse in judgement, you allow that possibility to hang heavy in the air like the cloying smell of sex as you tilt your head slightly sideways and lift your chin, leaving your neck vulnerable to him to do as he pleases.

But Valentino doesn’t do sweet little kisses, and if that well-known character quirk of his did not clue you in, then a gust of breath over your pulse point should have been a warning.

"Ah!"

Valentino sinks his teeth into the juncture where your neck and shoulder connect. The pleasant pressure in your lower stomach gets replaced with a sinking feeling as the sharp pain locks your whole body with excruciating pain.

He spills himself into your trembling body while you weakly push against him in an attempt to get away, but all it does is help him tear the chunk of meat and tendons out of your body.

Valentino growls into your open wound, and you stop resisting. His hot cum flowing down your legs is as uncomfortably hot as the bile rising up your throat.

You hear him loudly gulp down the bloody chunk and chuckle, "It doesn’t matter that I don’t own your soul on paper. You will always be mine. Even when this heals up," he licks a long stripe against the pulsing wound, making you gasp and squirm. The deceptively charming tone of his voice is gone just like that, replaced by one with a warning undertone exhaled right into the bloody injury. "There will always be a piece of you missing. Don’t make me wait for you next time."

Like a child hiding a broken vase before your parents even notice the glass shards, you smile at him, knowing that after tonight you will have nothing to worry about. You could make any promise; it won’t matter.

You exhale contentedly, "I won’t, Valentino. Never."

Valentino hums, stroking your upper arm with soft, sensual caresses, none the wiser to your plans. The unusual gentleness, alongside lightheadedness from blood loss and rhythmic throbbing in your neck, begins to slowly lull you to sleep. Your eyelids grow heavier with every touch that Valentino spares you, and unconsciously you begin to negotiate with yourself, only for a little bit… I will close my eyes for a moment… Hell knows I deserve it—

Doubtful that sinners have guardian angels, but unable to explain the sudden need to meet Valentino’s palpably piercing gaze in any other way, you cannot do anything but thank God that you do before you succumb to the temptation of sleep.

The terror in that moment is greater than exhaustion. You quickly scramble to your feet, swaying to the sides like a sapling trying its best to hold up against the wind. 

Your arms are shaking and going numb; you can’t even feel the piece of clothing in your hands. A thin layer of fresh skin has already stretched over the wound at the base of your neck, but as you tug your robe back onto your shoulders, the thin layer rips, blinding you with pain until the black spots in your vision grow bigger.

Gentle, the man is not, and still knowing this, you almost fell for the trap. All this time, he has seen through you and almost ensnared you. Shame on you for thinking yourself to be wiser.

Valentino hasn’t made a move to drag you back. He… just smiles, while one of his many arms is twirling the cigarette holder between long, dexterous fingers. The fresh smoke hits your nose, and you feel your mouth start watering.

You don’t play with untamed fire for any longer than you already have, quickly making your way on wobbly legs towards the door. It slams shut with a resounding thud, but not before Valentino’s mocking purr slips through the crack and hits you on the way out.

"Better hurry, muñeca."

Hyperventilating, you stumble into a wall. The stale smell of smoke permeates the air even outside Valentino’s room in the hallway. There’s a taste of bile in the back of your throat as you feel it coming up, but all you can do is lean your forehead against the wall, close your eyes, and ride it out without, hopefully, regurgitating the stomach acids on the carpet.

With an exhale, you will yourself to open your eyes, afraid of falling asleep. Not here, not now.

Your wounded arm hangs limp beside you as the drops of viscous blood drip from the tips of your fingers onto the carpeting below.

Finally, you push yourself to stand straight, and with an ungainly walk, you exit the tower.

You look back only once.

Lost in a trance-like daze, you don't know how long you wandered the streets or when you managed to doze off in the spot you ultimately decided to pick as your final resting place. When you jump awake, all you know is that you eventually did.

The first of seven loud, steely bell rings echoes through the air, symbolising the start of the extermination. It is soon followed by the second and the third one.

In the rubble and decay left over from the last extermination, desperate sinners get ready for a new one—scrambling to hide against the inevitable.

Feeling indifferent towards their plight, you hug your knees closer to your chest, take out your last cigarette, and press the tip against the ground to light it. You take the first puff and close your eyes, exhaling the acrid smoke through your nose with a shaky breath as another loud chime rings through the air and sends a shiver down your spine.

You are ready to die, your inner voice tries to placate you as you subconsciously dig your heels into the ground with an overwhelming want to flee. You never wanted to die—not in life, nor the after. All you wish is for the pain to finally stop. And if this is what it’s going to take…

Another inhale.

You flick the ash, some of it falling on the tip of your stiletto. You don’t bother brushing it away. Instead, you raise your gaze to take in your surroundings and can't help but feel something swirling inside your stomach. Is that... longing?

Not for Hell, that’s for sure, but rather resurfacing memories that this part of the Pride Ring brings to the forefront of your mind. You are in the industrial area of Pentagram City, nestled somewhere behind the Carmine factories. Maybe it’s weird to find nostalgia in concrete, but as you remember yourself, you were always the sentimental type, especially before dying. And looking at the sculptural, dilapidated buildings—that are only good at serving a functional purpose—reminds you of your home before you got swept up in the fake glamour of the fashion world.

Concrete’s grey colour gives off a cold feeling to many, but you harbour a different kind of sentiment towards monochrome structures. You rarely visited your childhood home after your career as a model kicked off, so the memories you have of it are saturated with the dreamlike wonder of a curious child whose mind worked tirelessly to supply colour to even the most drab parts of suburbia.

And in her youthful eyes, the concrete was never cold—not in colour, and most definitely not in feeling.

Be it the sunset, painting the walls of a concrete-panelled five-storey apartment building in the warmest of colours, or your little self trying to climb on top of the concrete tunnels at the playground that had been exposed to the sun all day—your palms firmly pressed against the warm, rough surface as you pushed yourself upward, straining to lift your body on top, and painfully scraping your bare knees until they were stained with warm blood and throbbed with hot pain. To you, the concrete was warm and felt like home.

Until it didn’t.

You grew, and the oversaturated lens through which you used to gaze at life began fading out into an all-consuming fog of depressing grey. You wanted more from the miserable existence, chased unreachable dreams and that childhood high, substituting the lack of colour in your life with artificial big city lights.

Simultaneously, your ambitions got bigger, but no accomplishment could replicate the youthful optimism you once had, and no drug could synthesise it. 

You pursued the unattainable until you burnt out.

Casting your gaze at the filter between your fingers, you are taken out of your contemplative haze by another ring of the bell. You have gotten so lost in your own thoughts that you are unsure if it’s the fifth or the seventh ring.

Cries of murder have become white noise after two years of living in literal Hell, but these screams now are different. Sinners yell for others of their kind to hide, and at first, only the distant echoes of their desperation reach you. That is until the nearest sinner to you blocks your line of vision and screams into your face.

"Don’t just sit there! Hide—"

Just like that, an angelic steel-edged axe, bearing a close resemblance to a musical instrument, cuts the sinner obliquely through. His mouth doesn’t have time to even have time to close properly as the top half of his body is already sliding off to the ground before he can finish the sentence. His lower half follows soon after and crumbles down in the same spot he once stood.

Slimy, black intestines, like live eels, slither near your feet, angrily hissing at you as the hot ground underneath sizzles them. You attempt to dodge them with your feet, letting out a petrified squeal as one of them bursts open and the fountain of blood sprays along your skin and the silk fabric of your robe.

That last ring of the bell you heard a second ago was indeed the last one.

The sinner is no longer blocking your view, but before you can take a good look at who dealt them their final blow, you are being kicked in your chest, causing you to tumble backwards and your head to hit the ground with a sickening crack. Your eyes snap shut from the force and pain. And you keep them that way.

Your ears prickle at the sound of sandy gravel crunching underneath his steps until you feel the heavy-duty combat boot press into your chest cavity with a weight and hardness akin to that of metal.

Exorcist angels, like true bringers of death, pierce the congealed blood skies with their scythe-like wings in unparalleled grace and speed. Monochrome in their colour scheme reminds you of a more hellish version of a common swift. They are small yet lethal, but the angel on you, digging his boot into your barely covered skin, is bigger and heavier and, most importantly—set on making the punishing pain last.

Just your luck.

You try to breathe, but the pressure on your ribcage constricts your chest. The feeling is soon followed up by a sickening crack. And you couldn’t be happier. You have never felt as close to salvation as you did in this moment. The pain is almost euphoric. 

Then, you feel the cold lick of the angel's blade against your neck, merely ghosting your skin. You arch your back in an absolutely sinful manner so the sharp silver edge of his weapon would glide against your skin, inviting him to slice it through.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

You open your eyes to look at the demonic face of an angel, hm… ironic.

He doesn’t suit his surroundings. Be it the incandescence of a halo above his head, casting a saintly shine over him, or the soft pastel colour palette of his robes sticking out amidst the eternally burning inferno, like the whiteness of Heaven in the bloody sky.

Even the red blood of the sinner, running down his weapon and dripping near the angel’s feet, doesn’t seem to ruin his sanctimonious image. Filthy—yes, as it stains the pristine visage of something sacred, but spilt righteously.

The angel’s pitiless eyes glint like his unfurled, golden wings.

"Are you deaf?"

His voice is spiced with mockery, like an action of spitting on someone but expressed with words.

"No, I heard you. I’m just wondering why you haven’t killed me yet."

He looks at you and blinks twice, assessing the situation.

Then he gets up from you. 

You hungrily inhale lungfuls of sulphuric air once the pressure lifts from your chest. Gasping, you scramble to reach out for him, cutting the pads of your fingers against the sharp blade of his axe. No— NO!

Without mercy, he swats your hand away with so much force that it numbly dangles beside you, but that’s when you try again with your other one. This one he grabs in his firm hold, applying pressure until your bones scream for you to surrender. As if you care about anything that happens to your ugly sinner body. You welcome pain.

He keeps you at arm's length like a flea-infested mongrel, but his words are as clear as if he had somehow gotten inside your head and screamed them into your mind.

"Bitch, you just had to ruin it for me! It’s no fun if you want it!"

You don't manage to say anything. You just open your mouth, gathering words. Not the first time I’ve heard those words from a man. There’s a pang in your chest. You have managed to ruin this not only for yourself but for others.

You are so insignificant, even killing you is not worth it.

"Sorry."

"Huh?"

"Please… I just want peace." Eternal peace.

The holographic mouth curls into an ugly snarl as he growls a wordless, ‘How dare you want something, and how dare you expect me to oblige?'

That was not the right thing to say.

The angel tugs you closer till you lose your balance and fall face-first into him, but before you can collide with his stomach, he manhandles you, grabbing you by the jaw. Your head is firmly tilted, forcing your gaze to meet his. His hand feels huge; long fingers envelop the entirety of the right side of your face while his thumb is jabbed into your cheek on the left, pushing the tender flesh inwards until it painfully smushes against the sharp edges of your molars and draws blood. His palm covers your mouth and nose, not allowing you to breathe. One squeeze of his hand and he could crush your head like a rotten fruit that has gone soft.

Instinctively, your body’s natural reaction is to grab your executioner by the wrist to stop him from causing you more harm. However, before your fingers can make contact with his inky skin, you quickly withdraw and forcefully drop your hand beside you, digging your nails into your fleshy thigh and tensing the muscles in your jaw. You will endure this—anything—if only it means that you will be free.

But that does not mean that this is not excruciating. It takes a lot for you to cry, yet the searing pain from his rough touch is enough to wet your eyelashes. You feel the stinging in your eyes, and as much as you don’t want to break down, you can’t keep the tears at bay. 

So you cry.

Embarrassment ignites your cheeks as you feel the droplets wet your cheeks. The tears pool in the arch where his index finger and thumb connect, but it doesn’t repulse him away from you. Instead, it seems to pique his interest as he loosens his grip, allowing the salty droplets to roll down your skin.

Then he smears the liquid across your skin.

Time stands still in that moment. The screaming around you fades into nothing, replaced by the pounding of your heart inside your ears.

Adam was very much looking forward to this year’s extermination. 

His self-pity and feelings of loneliness have flared up these days, and not even a quick fuck with a beautiful winner did it for him anymore. So what better way to rid himself of misery than by glutting his soul with merciless slaughter?

Adam was a hunter all his life. At a time when the earth was bare and there was little to entertain himself with other than the pleasures of the flesh, chasing wildlife was as much a means to get food as it was a source of entertainment.

And habits are difficult to quit.

Zoomorphic amalgamations replaced wild animals in the afterlife—both more or less the same, but admittedly, humans warped by sin were much more fun to hunt and butcher because of their human-like cognition. They were the ultimate prey. 

As soon as Adam descended from Heaven, he swung his axe, slicing through the first deformed sinner with little thought or care put towards the action. He needed to get it out of his system, and fast.

Then why wasn’t he feeling better?

Deep down he knew that he really needed to talk to someone. His reflection in the mirror wasn’t cutting it anymore after millennia. But he could not trust anyone enough to open up. Who could fault him for that? Every time he dared to open his heart, he got played.

He would never repeat the same mistake.

But then the sinner crumbled to the ground, revealing you.

Adam was taken aback at first. You didn’t look the part.

And that made him livid. Was his mind messing with him?

He felt the anger boiling in his veins as he kicked you to the ground. Feeling the impact against his foot when it collided with your body, hearing your bones crack, and smelling your blood only reiterated that he was not hallucinating. You were real.

And on top of everything—you wished for death.

Who, or more precisely, what, were you?

He watched you struggle in his grasp like a fish that he plucked out of water with his bare hands.

When he saw those tears rolling down your cheeks, he couldn’t help but feel that surge of authority flow through him. That’s how you were supposed to look from the very first second of you two crossing paths—trembling, crying, and pleading to spare your life. Now you weren’t so brave, shaking like the last yellow leaf, barely holding up against the autumn wind. Pathetic.

But as the first teardrop finally travelled the short distance from your eyes towards the sharp edge of your jaw and unceremoniously fell between you two, the damned ground let out a hiss as if sprayed with holy water, leaving Adam to stand there wide-eyed. No, it couldn’t be—

His wet thumb glided across your cheek with precision as, with each stroke, he hoped to remove more and more makeup, but all he did was knead the dewy skin.

The angel’s face glitches, and that’s when he suddenly lets go of you, allowing you to free fall back to the ground.

"Okay, listen, here’s the deal. I hate giving sinners what they want, and death, well, it’s usually not their kink. But! I’m feeling generous and seeing how embarrassingly desperate you are—I have one condition." His voice takes a different tone, leaving you noticeably confused at the suddenness. "Listen to me vent, and I will slit your throat at the end."

On the ground, you prop yourself up on your elbows and look at him with your jaw slack. Splayed out with your legs bent at the knees, you stare at Adam unblinking.

After a moment of silence, you hide your face in your palm and mumble to yourself. "I really hit my head hard..."

"Whore," he warns, and your head snaps in his direction. You tug on the lapels of your robe, which, after everything that happened, barely covered your breasts, defiantly crossing your legs with furrowed eyebrows. "I will put a mark on you so no exorcist’s blade would ever touch your suicidal ass, and then you will spend the rest of your miserable existence—"

You contort your face into a forced smile.

"I will do it."

[kamimarroco]

happiest valentine's day to you guys! <3

cw: slightly suggestive, Fox plays with the reader's nipple in a painful way (but still tame compared to what he can do)

He runs his clawed hands over your chest possessively, rivulets of blood forming across your fragile, soft skin. You feel the adrenaline consuming your mind, your heart pumping to the rest of your body, your fight or flight instinct activated in a moment that should be intimate, delicate, rewarding.

But instead, you feel in danger. A prey being made a toy by the cat — fox — who holds you hostage. You can't move, you shouldn't. The chains do the job of keeping your hands and feet firmly in place.

“Already so anxious... and I haven't even done anything to you yet”, his breath sends chills down your spine, both of your legs spread uncomfortably on the mattress. You can feel something pressing insistently against your entrance, and you can't help but feel at least slightly aroused.

This has always been characteristic of him. Every sexual act, every act of violence, was mixed up in the emotions of the moment. There was no way one could exist without the other.

Just like there was no way you could exist without him.

Two fingers reach for one of your nipples to pinch with sharp claws, the act making your face contort in agony and take on highlights of genuine discomfort. Your legs respond in kind and you rub against him unconsciously, the pain making you feel things other than fear.

This is strange. He's being nice to you. Nicer than usual. You don't like to think about what this means to you.

Fox flashes a toothy grin from ear to ear as his tail acts like a whip, easily breaking the air due to the speed at which it moves. “Fuck, you really don't make things easier when you react like that”, he increases the pressure on his claws and violently twists your nipple to the point where you start to whimper, tears threatening to form in the corners of your eyes.

You are generally much more resilient than this given the fact that you have been through much worse. You can't imagine how pathetic you must look right now for getting so worked up over something so small — fuck, he almost made you rip your guts out live!

You can only blame the fact that Fox gave you time to recover after everything. Gave you time for your wounds to heal and your body to function reasonably again. Which didn't automatically free you from his sick amusements, but it made you forget for a brief period what it was like to be played with.

“You are sensitive", he comments as he continues to twist, twist, and twist. It's agonizing. You assume that your nipple may just be bleeding at this point because of the burning and sensation of fluid appearing in the area.

Fortunately — or perhaps unfortunately — for you, he stops when he's satisfied enough with this, letting your nipple go as your breathing makes your chest rise and fall. He takes a moment to revel in your pained expression — which, by the way, must only be making him harder.

Fox suddenly feels comfortable enough to sit on your lap, his body not being much of a problem for you since you are bigger than him. The beastkin holds your cheeks tightly with both hands and brings your face closer to his, his eyes maintaining unbreakable eye contact as your noses touch. He smiles big at you, and you now feel more desperate than ever to be this close to him.

“I really missed you, darling. Let's make up for all those days you were recovering…”

[skxllz]

streets , doja cat 𝄢 ☆

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18+ , suggestive themes , more lime than full on smut , sadism/bdsm ???, sub paul + dom fem! reader

a whining, frustrated yelp echoed throughout the depths of the dark, sunken pit that was the cave―home of the vampires, guest room of a certain human.

david, marko, dwayne were out n’ about to do their usual rounds of terrorizing pedestrians, scarring tourists and searching for even a scrap of the perfect, desired meal that'd satisfy them for the night. they decided to head out after paul, your beloved boyfriend and mate, decided to piss you off by making a snide comment and practically coaxing the lion out of it's den.

mistake on his part, 'cause you've been itching to find something that'd subside the irritation that's been circling around you all day.

and the hyper-active blonde knew he fucked up beings as though he tried to wedge himself between marko and dwayne when they started to leave, hoping to successfully escape unscathed―but unfortunately for him, dwayne snatched him up by the back of his coat and threw him back to the wolves.

or wolf, i guess you can say.

―... more like relentless pantheress.

either-or, paul was fucked, landing at the feet of his ravenous mate that loomed above him, a crude grin stretched onto her scarlet-painted lips.

an hour later and she was still wearing that same grin, only it was now twined with a rather twisted, adoring pleasure from seeing her boyfriend's eyelashes wet with tears. starburst pink lips parted and wet; a single thin, flimsy string of saliva blowing out from the parted space each time he exhaled heavily from the addicting torture he's been receiving.

he was aching―his body was flushed, burning with an annoying throb that felt sickeningly familiar to the body aches he experienced from sickness when he was a human. only, unlike then, that pain came with the price of twisted enjoyment. something so scarringly enticing that it was considered mad; a madness that sunk into his bones, making him want to just jump, hiss, lunge, bitebitebite-

but he couldn't. not when his girlfriend, his mate, was above him with a fucking flogger that was woven with a certain fabric strangely akin to the smoothest splinters of maple wood. he didn't even know such a thing existed, but she's a witch, of course she'd have access to shit like this.

“ b-baby, come o― ” paul's attempt at panting out a plea was silenced by the crack of the leather stinging across his erect cock once again. he cried out, bared fangs now biting down and grinding against each other, his abdomen tensing as his hips jerked upwards.

fuck! was she trying to kill him by fucking blue-balling him now?!

“ did i say you could speak, mutt? ” your sharp voice cut through his whimpers and shuddering breathes, a singular brow raised, daring him to say something else―to step out of turn yet again, even though you had the upper hand in this situation. “ well- it sounds more like a chirp, really. I've broken you down enough to where you can't even fuckin' speak properly― ”

the smirk that stretched across her face would've frightened him if it weren't for the fact that his insane, vampiric mind corked off that logical part of his brain and replaced it with mind-numbing, forbidden lust. you're the only woman that could get away with this―reducing him to a pathetic, speechless state of precum, reddened skin and bubblegum whines.

and just seeing you crouch in front of him, the black fabric of your knee-length skirt bunching, sliding up and parting further left at the slit on your right thigh, smirking all cockily and crude-like; it left his head spinning. paul was blinking, his vision clear, but his mind foggy, too enthralled with the idea of finally feeling your warm pussy around him- hugging his shaft, dragging your velvety walls along the long vein trailing up the underside of his cock... shit. he couldn't focus at all.

“ ―and it seems like you're ready to lose conciseness too, huh, womb bat? ” you laughed loudly, a sound so melodic but so ominous at the same time. if it weren't for the fact that you slapped the tips of your fingers over his bobbing, leaky dick―which earned a gasping whimper from him―he would've thought you were actually going to be generous and let him succumb to the blanked-out-fuzz taking over his head.

“ i'm not done with you, paulie. ”

through fresh tears that bubbled at the corners of his eyes, paul watched as you stood, this time grabbing a wand-like device off of the crumbled mattress to his left; the familiar noise of a loud buzz filling his ears as you switched it on. realization dawned on him and those blue eyes of his widened, filling with an excited panic that made his heart race, and body twitch.

“ you claimed i'm not exciting enough, right? ” the way you turned towards him, eerily calm, those blazing irises of yours just screaming mischief―paul knew he was fucked.

mentally, physically, quite literally fucked.

“ w-wait- babe, come on, i'm sor― ”

“ shut the fuck up. you want satisfying, so i'm giving you satisfying, pretty boy. ”

◦◦◦◦◦

erm... did this do any satisfaction to my year overdue writing? 😃

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Lucifer: You took me so well darling.~

Adam moaned softly as he felt Lucifer slowly pull out, the gush of his jizz leaking from him. He gasped when Lucifer fingered it back inside.

Adam: Fuuuuck you're amazing.~

Lucifer smiled: Sorry, force of habit.

Adam: I don't mind, I'll keep it all in me.

Lucifer laid down beside him, they were basking in the glow of their euphoria. Adam glanced down, even softening Lucifer was fucking big.

Adam: I think I'm pregnant.

Lucifer burst out laughing: Now that, would be a twist.

Adam: Wouldn't it?

Lucifer would admit, that if Adam were a woman he'd totally put a baby in him. They would be strong, hopefully tall, and beautiful.

He brushed some hair behind Adams ear caressing his face, elves were beautiful regardless of gender and Adam was proof of that.

They got close together for warmth and kissed some more before falling asleep.

-

In the morning Adam and Lucifer got ready for the day ahead. They all stocked up on supplies and Lucifer made sure to grab a few extra snacks, he was sick of going hungry.

Lucifer: So it will really take us three days to get there?

Adam: Yeah, but it could be sooner if we don't run into problems.

Alastor: Which could be anything from more trolls to literally anything else.

They started their walk and Angel watched how Adam and Lucifer interacted with each other. He smirked, they totally fucked.

Good for them.

Lord Of The Rings!au!!!!

Adam- an elf born in Rivendell, but was lost when Orcs attacked his parents.

He was raised by dwarfs, so he's a beefy elf that uses axes instead of bows. Growing up, he's been an outcast to his tribe of dwarfs, and whenever he visits the elves, he's an outcast there, to.

One day, on a trip to Rivendell, he meets Angel, who instantly has the hots for Adam. They tried a relationship, but they both decided they'd be better suited as friends.

Eventually, they join a group of adventures that get hired for different things.

-

In Hobbiton, is Lucifer. A toymaker who enjoys the peaceful life of carving, creating and raising his little daughter, Charlie.

But that all changes when Alastor, a human ranger, knocks on his door. In forming him that his brother, Michael, is working for Sauron, and they need his help to break through to his brother.

Unfortunately for Lucifer, Alastor won't tell him anymore details until the rest of his group show up.

As more and more people turn up, Lucifer is getting incredibly frustrated. Not only are they damaging his hobbit hole, their also keeping his daughter up past her bedtime. Not that Charlie minds.

But one last knock at the door makes Alastor roll his eyes.

Alastor: Angel, deer. You really need to remind that man to arrive on time. This is very unprofessional.

Angel: What can I say, Al? Adam likes to hang out at the bars a bit longer than us~.

Alastor: Good lord... Mr Magne, would you mind?

Lucifer grumpled and went to open the door. He was in complete awe as a tall man steps through. He's wearing heavy dwarven armor, but he's most definitely not a dwarf.

Adam: Yo, is this...

The man pulls out a strip of paper: Lucy Furr's place?

Lucifer: Uh- oh- that's "Lucifer-"

Angel: Addy! Get your ass in here!

Lucifer jumped out of the way as Adam dropped his weapons and made his way over to Angel.

Adam: Hey, cunt!

Alastor: Adam. Language, please. Mr Magne, have a seat, we'll discuss the details.

Lucifer eventually made his way back to the dining room. He was a little shocked to see Charlie crawling all over Adam and laughing. But thankfully, the tallest being Lucifer had ever seen- and most intimidating - was laughing along with his daughter.

Lucifer: S-So-.

Alastor: We are employed by Lord Elrond. Michael Magne, nt he name of Sauron, has stolen his ring. Vilya, the ring of Sapphire.

Lucifer: Wait- one of the Three Rings?

Husk: The very same.

Alastor: It's our job to get it back before it's tainted by Lord Sauron. This is where you come in.

Lucifer: Me? How?

Angel: Michael's your brother, right? You Hobbits are meant to be close, yeah?

Lucifer: That's... slightly racist. But... yes. If there's anyone that could get through to him, it would be me.

Adam: And who's going to be looking after his adorable nugget?

Charlie laughed as Adam lifted her up and bounced her, making her squeal.

Lucifer: Oh- uh- Charlie- sweetie, you should get ready for bed-.

Charlie: No!

Adam: Ha! I like this one.

Lucifer glared at the man before turning to Alastor: Is there a contract or something?

Alastor smiled: Oh, of course~.

Dude YES!!

-

Alastor pulled out the contract and Lucifer looked it over. Every detail was there and everything seemed to be in order.

Charlie: Can I see??

Lucifer: Sweetie, no, look when do we have to leave? Where is he?

Alastor: That's the thing we have to go looking for him and we need to leave in the morning.

Lucifer looked at him: Tomorrow morning?

Alastor: Yes, this is an urgent matter.

Charlie: Can I come daddy!?

Lucifer sighed and rubbed his temples, he can't do anything if he has to worry about his sweet Charlie too.

Lucifer: No sweetie, you're gonna stay with your uncle Gabe.

Charlie: Awww..... He does high ponytails! They touch the sky!

Adam smiled: Oh do they? Say uh, Lucifer is it?

Lucifer: Yes.

Adam: Why doesn't her mom take her?

Lucifer: ..... Well, I think it's ill advised to leave children at a cemetery.

Adam thinned his lips, he didn't know the woman was dead. But that meant the cute little Hobbit was single? Good to know.

Adam: Sorry, I didn't-

Lucifer: It's fine don't worry about it. Now you, come here.

He took Charlie from him and she squealed with laughter as he walked towards her bedroom.

Charlie: But I don't wanna go to bed!

Lucifer: And I want to be 5'9 but that's not happening either.

Honestly, only being 5'1, or if he's wearing his good shoes 5'3 is such a fucking scam. He's the shortest fucking Hobbit and he hates it.

Lucifer placed her on her bed: I'll tuck you in in a little bit okay?

Charlie: Will you read to me?

Lucifer smiled: Of course.

He gave her a kiss and handed her a stuffed animal so she could relax. He went back out and sighed.

Lucifer: Okay Al, where would we even start to look?

[hopegained]

i need to study so why am i here thinking about eron struggling to adjust to life post-war

[ideologyofone]

Do you think we’re soulmates in another universe?

[vaguely-concerned]

are. are you telling me that if the romanced mage warden dies and alistair is king, he deadass stares greagoir down over her dead body and grants the circle of ferelden its autonomy after ordering it rebuilt somewhere safer. first you have to deliberately leave him behind so he won't die for you and then he does that for you once you're gone, even when you're broken up??? absolute and literal king behaviour of the highest order????? the actions speak louder than words of it all??????? I think I hauve covid

[gay-fae]

it’s the fact that ed doesn’t know. he doesn’t know that badminton kidnapped stede with the intent to kill him. he doesn’t know that stede was so filled with self-hatred that he ran back home because he believed what badminton said: that he defiled beautiful things. and ed is the most beautiful thing he knows of. ed doesn’t know that stede is completely in love with him and knows it now. ed doesn’t know stede concocted the most elaborate and ridiculous fuckery (with the help of his awesome wife) to fake his death just so he could sail off and find ed and be with him forever. because faking your death means you have no intention of ever coming back; stede faking his death was a commitment to ed. and ed doesn’t know that stede is waxing poetic about him and staring at the moon thinking about him and being oh so in love with him.

instead, ed thinks stede lied to him about ed making him happy. he thinks stede lied to him about how much he cared for him. he thinks stede just up and left, because he’s ed and no one good stays for him.