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jjscrybaby · 4 months ago

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prompt 19: ‘here’s my number.’

jj maybank x fem!reader | fluff | (reader has hair, no use of y/n, first meeting.)

not proofread and also not my best, i’m trying to get back into the hang of writing so i figured that maybe if i start posting my stuff it could give me the motivation again. hope you enjoy! :)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

JJ was sure he knew everyone that lived on the island. Whether they were a Pogue or a Kook, 9 times out of 10 he’d heard of them. Whether it was because there had been a scandal about Mr Anderson cheating on his wife with his secretary, or Mimsy hooking up with Topper Thornton at the most recent kegger, he’d heard of them.

So, when he checked over the itinerary for the delivery’s he was doing for Heyward he knew exactly who lived in the house he was heading to. An older couple, been on the island since they were kids, rich but not overly snobby. He walked up the driveway and knocked on the door, expecting the elder woman to open it since her husband’s recently broken his ankle. He had to do a double take when the wooden door was pulled open and the girl that stood there was anything but an old lady.

You were beautiful, hair tied up in a ponytail and pretty eyes that stared back at him. You looked a little tired, sporting a tee and baggy shorts that he assumed still costed more than his rent based on the logo.

“Hello?” Your sweet voice brought him out of his thoughts, mouth parted as he just stared at you.

“Oh, uh, sorry. Maybe I have the wrong house?” He looked around in confusion. The number was right, but last he checked there wasn’t a beautiful girl living in this house.

“Who are you looking for?” You questioned. He said your grandparents last name, making you nod. “You’ve got the right house.”

He just nodded slowly, handing you the two bags of groceries. They always ordered an absurd amount of bread. “Right. I didn’t realise they had a roommate.”

You giggled at his words, putting the plastic bags down — Kiara wouldn’t be happy — and grabbed your handbag from the side to get out your purse. “I’m their granddaughter.”

“Ohhh.” That made more sense. They didn’t seem the type to look on Craigslist for someone in need of a home. You held a twenty out to him. “Uh, it’s already paid for.”

“A tip,” you explained, nudging your hand closer to him. “Can’t be enjoyable walking around in this heat with all those heavy bags.”

“This is my last stop,” he shrugged, still not accepting the money. He wasn’t sure why, normally he’d be grabbing at it with greedy hands; maybe even trying to talk you into giving him more. Thats what he did with all of Heyward’s other customers.

“Just take the money,” you laughed.

“Twenty’s a bit much,” he argued, tapping his foot against the stone floor.

You hummed, giving him a look he couldn’t read. “Then how about you help me carry my last box upstairs. That mixed in with the delivery seems to add up to twenty.”

If any other Kook asked him to do such a thing he’d say no. He’d probably piss on their plants just for good measure. But you were something else, your little smile did something to him that he refused to acknowledge.

“Sure,” he agreed, stepping into the house. He rubbed his shoes against the mat, not wanting to trail dirt on the white carpet.

“Thanks. My back is killing me,” you complained, leading him further into the house where only a few boxes were left.

He read over them. Clothes. Blankets. Teddies. His face scrunched up in confusion. “Are you movin’ in?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Did you need anything? Some water or coffee or something?”

“Water, please.” He followed you into the kitchen, it was bigger than his entire shack. He leant against the counter, watching you reach up to the glass cupboard. “Where are you from?”

“Uh… all over really. My parents never enjoyed sticking to one place. I’ve been travelling for the last year. I was gonna go home, but after finding out my grandad’s getting more clumsy and my nan can’t take care of him herself I figured I could come help,” you explained, filling his glass with water and ice.

“That’s nice of you,” he murmured. He hadn’t seen either sets of his grandparents since he was a baby. His mom’s parents didn’t reach out whatsoever, not since she dipped, and his dads sent him a birthday card with a twenty each year. If they needed help, he’d probably pretend he didn’t see the message.

You just shrugged, taking your hair out of the pony just to re-do it. “They’re the reason I could afford, like, everything. Plus, I’m expecting some good karma.”

“Good karma?” He chuckled, accepting the cool glass from your hand. “Is that a real thing?”

“Who knows. But if it is, I want it,” you smirked. “So, you’re a delivery boy?”

He shook his head, putting the glass down on the marble counter. “Nah. I’m a busboy at the club, but my friend’s dad does the deliveries and I needed some extra cash.”

“Makes sense,” you murmured. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” he responded. He crossed his fingers that you were the same age, you looked young, but for all he knows you could be thirty and just really hot for your age.

“Me too,” you grinned. He smiled back toothily.

“Cool. So, uh, the boxes?” He asked.

For the next half an hour, he helped you carry up boxes. Your room was on the third floor, in the attic technically. It was bare, just a bed and a closet with a bathroom connected. He couldn’t blame you though, you had just moved in.

Once you were done, you walked him to your front door and held out the twenty again.

“Nah,” he murmured, waving you off.

Your face fell. “What?”

“I don’t need it.”

“You just helped me out for the money, so take the money,” you argued. “I should probably give you more than twenty.”

“How ‘bout this… you could thank me in another way,” he suggested.

“Like what?” Your eyebrows furrowed, head tilting as you looked up at him.

“Could let me take you to dinner sometimes,” he shrugged nonchalantly, although on the inside he felt like he was going to burst.

Your eyes widened in surprise, staring at him for a moment before a soft smile appeared on your lips. “Yeah. That seems fair.”

“Cool,” he grinned. “You got a pen?”

“Sure.” You walked a bit further inside the house, opening up a draw and handing a pen to him. He took it from you and pulled out an old receipt for gas from his pocket. He scribbled over it, a cheesy smile on his face as he handed it back to you.

“Here’s my number, I’m expectin’ a call,” he stated, giving you a wink.

You laughed, pocketing the receipt. “You’ll get one.”

“Cool. Uh, see you soon then,” he said, walking out the front door with a pleased look on his face.

You watched after him, waving as you closed the door. You definitely hadn’t moved to Outerbanks to find a man, but you definitely weren’t going to complain. You pulled out the receipt and giggled at what was sprawled on it. Below his phone number was a little note.

Call this number. You’ll have no regrets ;) - JJ

#threewordprompts #jj maybank #jj maybank prompt #jj mayback x reader #outer banks #obx

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4zahara · 3 months ago

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00 | The Star Child

Masterlist. Next→

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: English is not my first language. Happy New Year! 🎊

—Ad astra per aspera—

Gotham's streets hadn't been designed to withstand rainfall over 30 milliliters per hour. A fact highlighted when some areas became prone to flooding due to the poorly thought out infrastructure of the sewer system. Built far too intricate and unnecessarily so, without consideration for situations such as heavy storms and raining season. The kind of problem Politicians would forever liked to preach about solving despite not a single soul believing half the funds for said project wouldn't be later on pocketed. Not a single uncorrupted branch was left on Politic matters.

Unfortunately and adding to the pile of reasons for a solitary boy to be wondering the streets drenched from head to toe at the whim of the storm—Clothes clinged uncomfortably to his skin; said kid was seemingly trying to shield a backpack with his body.

Car horns blaring in the distance in the alleys, speeding over the runoff from the storm pooling along the curbs. Streams formed, raising past ankles as the lone boy sprinted across the street, splashing in the filth to round the wrong corner. By the time he stepped in The Narrows his already worn off shoes became muddy puddles.

There was the chilling wind biting at his bones too. No matter how much he pulled at the hoodie, clearly a size too big, it did little socked and stained to provide any warmth.

A dog barking behind a fence became the only sound Jason could hear above his own teeth chattering.

He became the man of the house at a far too young age, the same day his father got arrested. Jason Todd’s survival on the streets of the country's most dangerous city hinged on a self-sufficiency no child should possess. Devastating was the burden thrusted upon him, forcing him to scavenge for food, scrape together money—stealing if necessary—and keep a eye on his mother.

He had learned through pain how things worked. Everything always getting worse over and over before ever showing signs of getting better—if they ever did. Lessons taught by the streets. Yet for all his toughness and bravado, the idea of losing his mother devastated him enough to seek help from anyone, anywhere. He'll do anything.

His mother, Catherine Todd, had never been so shameless before. Never like this, in her infinite wisdom, had she locked Jason out of the house with a storm in toe. Perhaps in her altered perception of reality, she did her son a favor. However, most children were far from far from stupid. The closest they'll have would be naivety, which her son wasn't. Jason wasn't blind and deaf like many seemed to view him as. What those days and afternoons locked out really were for Jason were failures for not having been able to stop them. Stop her.

The cure for her mother's illness was the same substance slowly but surely killing her, apparently, and according to the drug dealer that'll come to their home. As if Jason were stupid. As if he didn't know drugs were no magical spell and about his mother's addiction.

Overwhelmed, his resolve faltered. Losing on a betting game with all odds against him, Jason saw no choice but to force himself to go out under the lash of a storm in search of a new player.

Someone who had no name or face that he could remember, but whose existence was suspended in a forgotten photo half-embraced by fire; His sister.

Willis had not liked to talk about his oldest child, so you must've been a force to be reckoned with.

═════════════ • ✧ • ══════════════

One of the last threads of hope he had had, summarized in this ominous building. After this, Jason will ran out of ideas. For a while he has been standing in front of the door of an apartment in one of the many complexes nearby. After hitting one too many dead ends, Jason knew better than to let himself be haunted with What ifs.

Armed with an old picture of you, the sister he never had, in which he was an infant in your arms and your smile had missing baby teeth. Now he was ten and had to squint to find any resemblance to his old baby-self. You could've changed so much all could be for nothing if you had done as much as dyed your hair.

Just the walk from Crime Alley had costed him his backpack. Far more he should've allowed himself to for this to be worth nothing, so there better be a fairy behind this door. At the very least a decent human being.

He wasn't backing down. Jason just needed a moment, okay?

Lots of thoughts and thugs had been faced tonight—the longest walk his short legs had ever made in his short life was enough for him to get mugged by a group of drug addicts.

Facing disappointment, his great fear of being left alone, tightened his chest far more than the kick to the ribs he got a couple blocks ago. (Him being a child meant his backpack had proudly carried four pieces of gum, a pair of socks and an used toothbrush which hadn't been good enough for a bunch of crazy. God forbid a boy had his own problems.) However, he was lucky they didn't kidnap him or worse. Even if only because of knowing nothing would be gained from it after seeing the inside of his backpack.

You could be anywhere if not here, really. Even dead in a ditch. Children didn't get very far alone. They were all attracted by dim light of deception in a deep dark ocean and devoured by an anglefish or other predator lurking by.

After a deep sigh, his lungs filled with false courage and the pollution gothamies were so familiar with. Although His hand froze halfway to knocking on the door, three times did the sound echoed down the hall and Jason's arm flashed hidden behind himself just as fast.

An eerie silence settled back in before Jason tried again. Three knocks, louder this time, were intended. Jason got to one before the dull thud of something falling to the ground was heard from inside. The response had almost been immediate, followed by footsteps. Jason barely had time to take a step back before the door creaked open as far as the chain on the bolt allowed.

A somewhat gloomy looking girl peeked out. She seemed to have just woken up in any case, with her short hair a mess of spiky locks pointed in all directions. Adding to the frame of her face were blue drooping eyes lingered above Jason's head for a second too long as if she expected someone taller.

Great offense was taken at that by the way. He had gone through a lot, walked way too much, not for this—and you—to call him out like that. You weren't even that much taller than him. You weren't even standing straight hiding most of yourself behind the door. Then her eyes descended to meet him, and Jason's mind went blank.

He couldn't fully see her face. Didn't need to see to know this was you his sister. The picture he had of you felt heavy on his pocket as you looked just like your mother. His mother.

The lump in his throat made itself all the more present when he tried to speak, so he waited for a greeting of your own instead. Anything to not be the one who had to speak first would have been a good start in Jason's books.

The silence stretched despite the two. His tongue felt like it had been tied up, stammered the first thing that came to mind when nothing came of you.

“I am your brother,” he blurted out, with anxious energy so clumsy he instantly regretted it.

Taglist(?): @classicsimpforaaronwarner

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roturo · 2 years ago

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THIS WOMAN IS MY ONLY ANGEL!

SUMMARY !: Megumi’s blood got blue, why? well because he thought he was losing his only angel coming back home. WARNINGS !: Smut, aged up characters, unprotected sex, creampie & breeding kink, mentions of forming a family, mentions of cheating, biting, tummy bulge, overstimulated, dumbification, a lot of cum, multiple orgasms, squirting, mating press, masturbation, fingering, corruption kink & very nasty stuff.

Megumi was coming home from a mission. Murmuring how much he hated this mission and that maybe he should quit being a sorcerer. He couldn’t bear the annoying behavior of his teammates and thanks to them making the missions even harder. Thanks to them he broke his phone on the mission and couldn’t tell you he’s coming home earlier tonight.

Once he got closer towards the house of both of you, he saw lights turned on in your bedroom, so he assumed you were awake and waiting for him. He opened up the door, taking off his shoes and jacket, but before he could place it on the sofa he heard some sounds— his first instinct was to go running to find you— afraid something or someone was hurting you— but he stopped mid-tracks once he heard a moan. He swears his heart stopped beating and his blood turned cold at the sound.

He waited there, in the hallway towards the bedroom— thinking and begging that the sound was all a creation of his imagination but he heard it again. And it’s like his body moved without his permission that he didn’t realized he walked in front of the door— cursed energy coming out of him, that anyone who got close to him would drown on it and stop breathing of how heavy it felt

Ready to give up his future life with you, thinking about all the things you could’ve done together— have a family, visit different parts of the world, get married…— he was ready to throw it all, and give up on those ideas. He just wanted you to be happy, so if you were happy with someone else, he would leave you. If you wanted him to die, to go and fucking kill himself, he would do it.

And he’s selfish, he knows that. But he never wants to see you with someone else— he told you, but he guesses you never listened.

And he swears you’re making him bleed. Cold and black blood coming out of him. Ready to leave, knowing apologies would never fix this.

He guesses promises are broken like stitches.

He opened the door, and now he feels like an idiot.

An idiot with a boner.

You were sprawled out, wearing one of his shirts, tears streaming down your cheeks— your cute little fingers compared to his trying to find release by yourself. His blood became red and hot again. Going straight to his dick, because he couldn’t believe this sight— he was angry, horny, relieved… he was angry for thinking that low of you, he was horny for watching you pleasure yourself, and he was relieved for everything he thought was just a fear of his that isn’t true.

‘M—Megumi…A-Ah!’ — It’s like when you realized he was right there, watching you pleasure yourself, moaning his name… it got you even wetter. Your cunt glistening and showing how much you missed Megumi’s cock and his fingers. He feels bad, seeing you this needy all because how busy he’s been.

And he’s tempted— there’s this thing upon him who’s howling like a beast to fuck you right there. Loving how he’s the one touching your skin, and knowing you’re a devil in between the sheets and not an angel like most people say.

He corrupted you.

And he loved that.

And there’s nothing you can do about it— ‘What a dirty. needy. whore. Couldn’t wait for your man to come back home and give you the real thing?’ — You watched Megumi as he entered the room, tilting his head to the side, contemplating what to do with you. He started unbuckling his belt and then started climbing to the bed— making you go backwards and try to get away from him but he was faster. He grabbed you by the ankles and positioned you so you're laid down completely under him, while he throws his belt somewhere else in the floor and frees his rock hard dick out of his briefs.

‘Y-you were s’busy this days I couldn’t stop myself. I needed you ‘Gumi…’— You said between mumbles, trying to look everywhere else but his eyes. His dominating aura drowning all your excitement and turning it into getting even wetter and clenching your hole waiting for his next action. — ‘So that’s why you’ve been such a nasty girl? Sending me those pictures? You know i’m yours baby, and I can easily dump the mission just to fuck you everywhere. No need to tease me, just say the words, and i’ll fuck you.’

‘Fuck me Megumi.’ — With no words needed he took off his shirt, one of his hands supporting him while with the other he lines himself so he could thrust into you. ‘F-Fuck… did you got tighter? Tsk. Even after fucking yourself with those poor little fingers? What a cute little thing.’ — His thrusts became harder each time he accustomed to your hole again, groans coming out of him while all you could do was moan out his name. Praying for the neighbors to not come tomorrow and ask for you to stay quiet.

It’s not the first time nor the last one, so fuck it.

‘I-I… Fuck… I still remember when you got me waiting in the dorms hallway to take me to your room and the fuck the soul out of you— A-Ah!… Now look.. at. us. now.’ — Each word came with a harder thrust than the last one, keeping a rough pace while kissing and pushing himself to talk to you. ‘Want me to continue fucking you like some rabbits in heat? Breed you? Oh god…’

He let out a moan that later sounded like a whine after saying those last words to you. ‘Fill you up and get you all rounded with my baby inside of you?… Shit- You’ll look soo… so… good.’

His thrusts became faster this time, putting you into a mating press, while he marked your neck. — Your vision started becoming dizzy, he started hitting all the right spots and once his hand found your clit and started rubbing it you exploded. Forming a white ring between the union of you two. Moans turned into screams and whines of trying to contain yourself from cumming again.

Words not even forming and just small sounds that sounded like hiccups coming out of you. He tried to stop himself from whimpering when he started feeling the tingly stimulation of your hole clenching his cock and electric feeling of almost reaching his high. Making his legs get shaky— he couldn’t keep hitting you because a loud whimper came out of him once he started thrusting even faster.

Your cunt gladly accepts him every time, cum coming out of you with every thrust. Your vision completely full of small black points and feeling your tummy getting a very full and tingly feeling, until finally a scream dressed as a moan came out from you, liquids and cum coming out of you with no warning— Coating Megumi’s cock way too much, it got really slippery and his cock almost slipped your cunt every time he thrusted.

‘Ffuccckk… S'wet. All f’me’ His thrusts became erratic, feeling his cock grow harder trying to find his release— pinning your hands below your head while his other free arm finds your clit and starts rubbing it, feeling another orgasm coming out from you. ‘S-shit, what if we have a baby? uh-huh~ Fucking you everyday, every place just to make sure you’re full of my cum.’ Every time he thrusts inside of you a small bump would form in your tummy, hitting your g-spot perfectly— someway getting even more deep inside you could swear his cock was in your throat.

‘M-me’gumi~ Please…’ He chuckled at your loss of consciousness, something inside of him growing proudly thanks to how good he’s making you feel, he could resist it any more and big your neck while he dumped his cum inside of you.

Sighs filled the room, noticing Megumi came hard because strips of cum wouldn’t stop coming out of him— cum already slipping out of your cunt without releasing himself from you.

‘Shit.’ He looked down where the both of you’re connected and saw the cum coming out of the both of you without even freeing his cock out of you— Which brought a tingly feeling and movement from his cock, like waking up by surprise.

‘Think you can with another round baby?’

#megumi smut #megumi fushiguro smut #fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi imagine #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #megumi x you #jujutsu megumi

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ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 6 months ago

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RED IS THE COLOUR OF

KINKTOBER DAY 1 - BLOOD WITH JACKSON RIPPNER

Pairing - Jackson Rippner x fem!reader

Summary - Jackson returns home covered in other men’s blood. He’s too impatient to shower first.

Warnings - noncon! dead dove do not eat ! forceful, abuse, blood play, blood tasting, p in v, oral! m receiving, drawing blood, biting, bondage, abduction.

Word count - 1.4k

Notes - Starting kinktober off strong with my sweet baby boy Jackson. This is quite dark and mentally disturbing so be warned.

The heavy slam of the front door woke you up. As you jolted up, the short chains locked around your wrists yanked your body back to the bed frame. In the darkness, your senses focus on your hearing. The familiar pacing footsteps crept towards the bedroom. Goosebumps formed on your trembling naked skin as you curled up into a ball waiting for your captor to walk in.

The door creaked open, you could only draw out his figure as the darkness shadowed over his features. Jackson’s breathing was heavy, likewise to an athlete’s aftermath of a marathon. His hand slid up the wall, his fingertips searched for the switch.

“You almost got me killed tonight baby doll” Jackson spoke quietly, his tone filled with frustration and disappointment.

Your eyes narrowed to him, mouth ajar opened as your heart pounded with anticipation. When the light snapped on, you let out a piercing scream. If you could sink into the wall, you would have. The muscles on your back were quickly turning a shade of bright red.

Jackson smiled at you innocently, the lower half of his mouth painted a crimson red. His expensive grey suit ruined by the repercussions of human blood. As he closed the distance, he easily kicked off his newly polished shoes and slipped his jacket off to the carpet. You whimpered his name as he slowly crawled up to you on the bed, his piercing blue eyes never inching away from you once. He was the wolf and you were the lamb awaiting slaughter.

“Let’s have a shower, get you all cleaned up” you suggested timidly, your breath hitching, It was motivated by desperation mixed with fear, your eyes darting over every inch of his crimson skin.

“Shower later, need you now” he declared through a grumble with a gentle nod as his dirty hands wrapped around your ankles, swiftly pulling you down flat on the mattress.

Jackson didn’t care that he was already permanently staining his sage bed sheets, or that his clothes were ruined, definitely not that he’d have to spend all of tomorrow morning cleaning the interior of his car. Most importantly, Jackson didn’t care how horrified you were right now.

With your arms unwillingly raised above your head, your teary eyes watched Jackson fearfully. Under his still damp clothing, your bare thigh squirmed around. He rubbed his mouth in thought, slowly his metallic tasting lips brushed over yours like a soft breeze. Jackson pressed his lips up to your ear as he breathed in your sweet scent.

“Your daddy didn’t want to cooperate with me baby, now I’m covered in him” Jackson admitted shamelessly, a dark chuckle quickly followed.

Impulsively, you thrashed underneath him, your restrained hands tried to claw at him but it was hopeless. The wicked smile on Jackson’s crimson lips was sinister as he pinned your wrists onto the mattress. Those baby blue eyes of his were full of darkness. Immediately your lips were wobbling, you could see the honesty as clear as day.

“You’re lying!” You gasped out in denial, your fragile body being thrown into a wave of shock.

“Unfortunately I am not, babydoll” Jackson sighed.

It was fine, Jackson was never going to let you go anyways. But now he was going to miss out on a hefty paycheck. Oh well, you’d be able to make him feel better. You’ve succeeded at it every time so far, Jackson’s sure you’d be more than willing to keep up your efforts.

Like a baby, you were blubbering underneath him, pleading him for mercy. It always got him painfully hard when you’d beg for your life. As if Jackson would ever dare to kill his favourite girl, no matter how badly you could act out of line.

He was comforting you, coaching you to take in deep breaths and to clear your mind. As his red hands massaging your scalp, his needy hips humped against yours. After your cries had mellowed into whimpers, he moved his lips closer to yours.

“Come on, taste him” he encouraged. The smell of bloodshed made you feel sick as your lips were a mere inch apart.

“Jackson please!” you pleaded hopelessly, the nozzle to the waterworks twisted to full power.

Menacefully, Jackson shook his head towards you slowly. With wide eyes and a trembling mouth, you mewled to him pathetically. Gently, his lips pressed against yours.

“No, no… This is all you have left of him baby doll” he stated before deepening the kiss.

It was human to react in pure disgust. Without forethought of the consequences, you bit onto his lower lip, with a force that pierced into his skin. The horror was the lack of reaction Jackson had initially. A dark laugh echoed up his chest, his lip still caught between your teeth.

Suddenly, he smacked the side of your head, your latch snapped. Time slowed down momentarily, the ringing in your ears numbed your thoughts. The blood that spilled from his mouth painted polka dots onto your heated face.

Blinking hard, you jolted underneath him, but Jackson held you down easily as you swore beneath him. “Don't fight me, you’re all worked up from having no control” Jackson spoke calmly, ending with a sigh. But when you didn’t obey his order, his string of patience snapped. “Are you listening to me!” Jackson roared as he backhanded your already stinging cheek.

You laid stiff below him, like a ragdoll, his perfect babydoll with glistering doe eyes.

The stinging in your eyes made you feel like they were on fire. The restraints on your wrists will show fresh bruising and cuts in the morning. The blows to your cheek will certainly leave a mark. Jackson huffed at your broken expression and stood on his knees on the mattress. His fingers fiddled to take off his bloodied shirt and undertop.

“So fucking ungrateful” He hissed as the belt slipped out of the loops of his pants.

You turned your head to the side as he hovered over you to wiggle out of his pants. When he was completely free of his clothing, he shuffled his lower body up to your face. Stroking his throbbing length over your lips, you dared to look back to him.

“Go on then, put your mouth to better use. Fuck, you think I really want to hear you whining after what you got me into? I almost died for you. You know how many men I killed tonight!” he bellowed, roughly pressing his tips to your closed lips.

Guilt struck over you, as if any of this was ever your fault. It was always so easy for him to break you down. Submitting to him, you shuffled up the bed. Looking up to him, your mouth slowly opened.

“There’s my good girl” Jackson praised cruelly through a groan whilst your tongue swirled over his tip, a whine ran down his shaft.

His bloody hand massaged your aching cheek whilst you took him in further and further with each bob. Holding onto the top of the bedframe, he crouched over you as he fucked your face thoughtlessly. The sounds of your gags were always music to his ears.

Pulling his salvia coated cock out, he moved back down to hover over you. Jackson stroked his wet cock with his bloody hand, the moisture lubricated the dry blood and gradually painted his cock red. His hand wrapped around your throat as he tiled your face up.

“You’re completely mine now, baby doll… No one will get in our way again” Jackson spoke softly as he pressed himself in your all too eager cunt.

The smile was sinister, the sensation of how wet you were sent his nerves through the roof. You mewled out and scrunched your expression. But Jackson wasn’t taking it anymore.

“Shut up before I fuck your ass” he threatened harshly, his eyes rolled back dramatically whilst burying his dick inside of you.

You followed his orders and remained silent. Rapidly, Jackson pounded his cock into your pussy. Accompanying that action by kissing you deeply. The stench and taste of him made your stomach curl over. His fingers circled over your clit, you whined out as you felt your body betray you once more.

“There you go” Jackson murmured, a wicked grin on his face as he observed the pleasure rise on your expression. “Remembering who you belong to” he groaned when he felt your velvet walls squeeze him.

Suddenly, his teeth sunk into your upper lip, drawing just as much blood as you did. You cried out, tugging at your restraints but didn’t dare to fight him. Jackson rubbed his face all over yours, making sure that both of your faces were covered in blood, inch by inch. He smiled at your pretty red face, his cock throbbing inside of your clenching walls.

“Babydoll, did you know that red is the colour of love?” He asked quietly, smiling like a fool in love.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #smut #dark smut #jackson rippner smut #jackson rippner x reader #jackson rippner #cillian murphy kinktober #kinktober 2024 #blood kink #dark romance #dark #18+ mdni

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sukunas-wife · 1 year ago

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Valentines Special

A little something for the masses 🤍💌 Happy Valentines Day everyone 🤍🤍🤍

“Two of whatever just came out.” Sukuna knew what came out, it was Friday on Friday they made snickerdoodles fresh. The smell always filled the school entrance and shoe locker room pulling students in to buy. He was always there just in time for the old to sell out and the fresh to come out. The same amount every day 143 yen, he kept the exact change daily in the stupid little coin pocket of his wallet. The jingle of his wallet while he took out the coins was always accompanied by the whispers and giggles of girls when Gojo Satoru would make his daily appearance gracing everyone with his cheeky smile, hands stuffed into his pockets, crude remarks being passed off as flirting.

“Thanks for that.” Gojo slid the pack of cookies Sukuna was about to pay for toward himself, “Fuck of Satoru don’t touch my shit unless your looking to lose the hand you jack off with.” Sukuna slammed the coins on the counter, snatching the pack away from him before walking away. He didn’t care to listen to whatever Gojo was screaming back at him, he had his own stuff to worry about, that stuff being finding you before you started running late to your class. Sure he was late to his classes but a teacher wouldn’t say a damn thing once they saw his face. But you, you were a mess. He didn’t understand what you saw in being Student Body President. You show up early to school, skip breakfast because your sense of time is shitty, stay late after school and always look so tired after dealing with incompetent fools. At lunch it’d be a miracle for you to eat on your own, more often than not he’s dragging you to the school's garden and feeding you whatever you packed him for lunch. And when it’s the right season, whatever fruit he can steal from the garden.

Perfect timing as always, he caught you running up the stairs. You stopped smiling up at him, he was at the top staring down at you, eyebrow raised at why you were holding your skirt down like you could flash anyone. Why were you wearing one of those slutty mini skirts anyways, usually only Gojo’s fan girl wore those to catch his eye. He usually saw you in those skirts that were knee length, sometimes ankle length. He liked it like that, you looked different from everyone else, it amused him when you’d grab the front of your skirt hitching it up to run up the stairs, his eyes would always long in your stocking covered squished thighs when you’d raise your skirt too high in a hurry. But this mini skirt, you didn’t miss the change in his face, and you looked down, “My skirt got torn by my desk and this is all the nurse had in the and found.. i don’t know how you lose a skirt really but…”

He sighed, “damnit Y/n you really are a mess ya know.” You watched as he untied the black sweater from his waist. He moved to stand behind you, one step down, “Ya know how many fucking perverts are in this damn school just waiting to get an up shot of some girls underwear.” You felt his arms come around your waist and you moved your hands away watching as he tied a knot with the sleeves, “It’s disgusting.” He didn’t move away, your hands rested on his around your waist, you felt him rest his chin on your shoulder, “What happens if one day I’m not here to take care of you huh?” You turned your face to look at him, his red eyes were staring down at you. You did your best to kiss his cheek, “I’ll just have to suffer alone Kuna.” He scoffed at you, “whatever.”

You couldn’t help the smile when you pressed your lips to his cheek again, your lips lingering and he hummed before moving to face you, catching your lips. You let your head fall back against his shoulder, smiling up at him, his eyes were lidded with a lazy smile. The warning bell pulled you out of your little lovey staring contest, “Change that skirt when you get the chance or I’m killing the first pervert to look up your skirt.” You rushed up the stairs and he leisurely followed behind til you made it to your class. He never failed to eye your class out of judgement, more specifically looking for that dumbass Gojo that was in your class. He was always ready to get into a fight with that prissy twink. You watched him make a face and looked into your class, there was Gojo Satoru, staring right at your boyfriend with a frown of his own. Between the two it was like watching an adolescent Snow Leopard and Tiger getting ready to fight for a fresh meal. What would you expect from two of the most well known families in your city? Satoru’s family was well into being wealthy, their lineage producing world class Models and successful doctors, it was no surprise when on show and tell in elementary school Satoru brought in magazine’s of a white haired blue eyed child saying he was a baby/toddler model. As for Sukuna’s family, they have a much longer history in this city then Satoru’s. Trumping Satoru’s family in wealth, but what would you expect from a family who had long been dedicated to beating the head of a successful and thriving branch of the Yakuza.

You remember the first time you met Sukuna’s father. Sukuna had taken you out to buy a traditional kimono, get your hair done with jade combs and pins. Telling you about how his father was a very traditional man with values such as, respect your elders and those above you, never steal or wrong the everyday man or woman, never disrupt the harmony of your family or those around you, never become involved with drugs and always act chivalrously. You admired the way he talked about his dad, he looked up to him with respect, admiration so you agreed to do the best you could.

His house was not just a house, it was a Shinden Zukuri, it was massive, and glorious. It was exactly what you would have expected from his father from just hearing of him. “It’s…amazing Sukuna.” You turned to look at him and he was smirking down at you, “I know it is.” He led you along the path to one of the entrances and to the Genkan, you slid your shoes off and held onto your bag. Following sukuna further into the house, and out onto the engawa of the home until he stops at another room, he slid the shoji door open telling you to enter. He took your bag, placing it on a shelf against the wall, and you looked around the room. It was almost empty except for the white men's kimono on the kimono rack. You looked at Sukuna. His school shirt was open and he pulled it off, throwing it over your head, “Leave that on.”

you heard the rustle of fabric, all you could see was the white fabric in front of you until we pulled it off of you and you looked up at him, his brow was furrowed as he tried to fix a hair comb that came loose. You could see a part of his chest showing through his Kimono, he leaned closer mumbling something about the comb being difficult. He smelt good, it was masculine but clean, he smelt like a candle he once bought you, Bergamot, Lavender and Cedar. You couldn’t help the little sniff you took and he let out a single laugh pulling away from you, “weirdo.”

You just smiled up at him and he led you further into the “home.” Stopping right outside double sliding doors, “alright, if you’re not ready by now, you’ll never be. So if you're not ready and you fail, sorry to break it to you now you’ll probably never see me again.” He gave you a cheeky smile when he saw your scared and worried expression, “Su-alright no backing out now.” He slid the doors open bowing and greeting his father, and there he was, frozen for a second the man was massive in size and he was only sitting. He was shirtless and covered in tattoos, you swallowed before dropping into a deep bow greeting him and introducing yourself in a calm but confident way. You didn’t look back up until you heard him let out a low chuckle and tell you to stand at ease. Your face was still looking down, if that’s what Sukuna was going to look like when he was older, there was already no doubt in your mind you wanted to marry him but if there was even a smidge or shadow it was gone. Sukuna’s father cleared his throat, “Sit, I want to learn more about the little lady who managed to leash my boy.” Sukuna groaned as he put a hand on your lower back, ushering you forward to sit with him across from his dad…. The rest was history.

The Late bell pulled you from your memory, “I’ll see you-at Lunch yeah yeah go before that teacher Yaga comes in and marks you absent.” He nodded with his head finally looking at you, you smiled. You saw the small twitch in the corner of his lips before he stepped back and started walking to his own class with no haste.

——————

It had been a week since that day but more importantly it was the weekend before valentines. Here you were in your kitchen doing everything to make the perfect gift. You’d gone to the store that morning spending a decent amount of your savings on things to make sweets and bake little things for him. There was no doubt in your mind that just like last year, your boyfriend's locker would be filled with love notes and chocolates that he’d either let you have your choice of or throw away. The love letters, you’d read and go though all the candy bullying him about his little secret admirers before he’d crumple them up throwing them into the trash.

But right now! You were focused on making homemade chocolate filled with red velvet cream, smooth white chocolate, or almonds. You had taste tested so many you finally got the right flavour. They weren’t bitter, but not overly sweet like the store chocolate you watched him make a face at, one time. On the other hand, you had little chocolate heart shaped cookies you’d decorated with royal icing trying to make cute valentines designs. The lines weren’t the cleanest or fanciest but you liked them enough to pack them into a little treat bag with a red bow and a name tag. The Chocolate you packed into a gold box with a bright red satin ribbon. And the little cake tin you chose was a gold tin with a clear top. You wanted to make a milky cake with whipped cream and strawberries. You even bought a bigger bento box to make a special lunch for him, you had it all planned out. It was a three layer bento. Your plan was to stuff him and push him into a food coma for his final class. The first was beef and vegetables with white rice with pickled plum and pickled ginger he always ate like it was nothing. The second layer was tempura shrimp, a pickled cucumber salad and fried rice. The final layer was two egg salad onigiri with sesame snap pea salad. On the side was going to be your cake and a little egg pudding. There was no way he’d be cranky in his last class if he was stuffed to the brim.

——————

“no more…” You watched Sukuna as he dramatically fell over into your lap breathing heavily as he huffed. One arm thrown over his eyes, the other hanging down still holding the onigiri he had yet to bite into. Your hand scratching his head gently, “Happy Valentine's Kuna.” You did your best to angle yourself and lean over to kiss his forehead. You didn't miss the smile on his lips when you pulled away, he held the onigiri up blocking the sun when he uncovered his eyes, the little face you worked so diligently on for him. “Maybe one more.” You watched wide eyes when he stuffed half of it in his mouth before holding it up to your lips, his cheeks puffed out while chewing, it was cute for someone who without a doubt could snap your neck or make anyone cry and want to die with just words without having to raise his voice. He hummed offering to feed you some of the onigiri again and you took a small bite. Before your finger came to pick a grain of rice off his cheek, it was cliche and even worse when he eyed your finger and pulled it to his lips licking the grain off. “Happy Valentine’s Day to me.” His cheeky smile made you break out into a smile when he shoved the last of his rice ball into his mouth struggling to sit up, “damnit, I can’t.” He gave up and laid back in your lap, “I live here now.”

“Wait there’s one mo-no I can't I’m full, look at me.” He patted his stomach with his hands, you didn't see a difference in his fit form, that was until he saw the reflective gold and his eyes widened, “wait!” You watched him wiggling and struggling to sit up, putting a hand on his back to push him up, he made grabby hands at the tin when you pulled it away, “I thought you couldn’t- I can! I lied, I do that sometimes.” He tried to lean over you to grab it but you leaned further, so he did what he would never do publicly. He grabbed you and hauled you over into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist holding you there, “Now feed me y/n.” He rested his chin on your shoulder looking at the cake. Whipped cream and a heart made of strawberry purée and strawberries, “heh, you do all this for me, pretty girl?” Your smile was big and ungraceful when you laughed at his nose grazing your jaw and neck. “Yes, it’s all for you Sukuna, I wouldn’t do this much for anyone else.” You turned and kissed the side of his temple and he smiled, “cmon open it.” You fed him and he hummed, his chin resting on your shoulder tilting it so it rested against yours.

You sat like this for while feeding him and yourself until the bell rang, he squeezed you holding you against him, “C‘mom even little miss perfect can take a break, let’s stay out here a little longer.” You reluctantly agreed and kept feeding him what was left of the box cake. Eventually he just held you there, smiling and laughing at how you told him your story of how you messed up and your poor parents who had to be taste testers.

Soon the last school bell rang, he opened his eyes just barely glaring at the intercom that played the obnoxious chime. One arm was tucked behind his head, the other around your shoulders holding you against him. He was sitting back leaning against the plum tree the school planted. Your head on his chest, eyes closed with soft breaths, arm draped over his chest. His school coat was over you, he almost didn’t want to wake you, but his back and butt were aching from being in this slouched angle for so long. So slowly he started to sit up, trying to gently wake you, your eyes opening to look up at him. He was so beautiful in the setting sun in your eyes, “What time is it?” Your question went almost unanswered until he pulled out his phone, “it’s time to go home is all that matters.” You didn’t look away from his face and he looked back at you, holding eye contact. “Happy Valentine’s Day Kuna.” Your small tires smile and sleepy eyes squeezed his heart. He leaned in nuzzling his head to yours, “it’s not your day yet but Happy Valentine’s Day Brat.” You closed your eyes smiling until you felt his lips, you were delighted to kiss him back before he sat up pulling away, “we gotta get up my ass is starting to hurt.” You laughed getting up with the help of his outstretched hand, “I guess you’ll just have to take these home with you.” You didn’t miss the flash of excitement in his eyes when you pulled out the gold box of Chocolates and red ribbon tied cookies. You smiled and he grinned like a mad man carefully stuffing them into his bag.

“Ya know brat, I never celebrated Valentines before…” he trailed off and you didn’t miss the hint of pink on his cheeks, it made you smile and take his hand. “Guess I’ll just have to spoil you next year too.” He scoffed looking away but you didn’t miss the way he held on tighter to your hand, “Good because if you think you can just leave your dead wrong.”

It was the full bloom of red on his shocked face when you kissed his cheek so innocently and said “If I leave anything it’ll be my last name,” that assured you in a way he wouldn’t fight you on that subject.

Tag: @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks

@cyder-puff @bofadeezs

@sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira

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bbearthyy · 19 days ago

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Daryl angst pleeease where Daryl grabs fem!readers face while she is crouched and stoic. just so fearful and unable to move. him being patient over the next few days too.

thanks for the ask!! (and for asking for something that wasn’t smut mwah) ((jk i’m a slut)) i luvvv this idea and hope you like what i did with it!

cw: none that i can think of, typical TWD violence ig, some allusions to past SA? but it’s not detailed at all more so kinda implied, angst leading to fluff, this is first person cause i was struggling to write it in second but there’s no specific name or identifying traits about reader other than a tattoo

this is set like after the war between woodbury and the prison but the governor is dead and everyone lives happily ever after. i know the diff pics of daryl eras make it confusing i’m sorry😭

-(0)-

no more hiding

he’s gonna kill me he’s gonna kill me he’s gonna kill me he’s gonna kill me he’s gonna-

the words echoed through my head, my chest heaving as i tried to catch my breath. i was ducked down behind a tree, the trunk just big enough for me to hide myself. i saw the archer just seconds before he saw me, leaving me with hardly any time to run. but i’ve been running for at least 30 minutes now, and i’m exhausted.

i stopped hearing his footsteps a while back, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t behind me anymore. once i’ve finally caught my breath i make sure my shoes are tied tight; these dirty red converse aren’t suitable for running very far, but it’s not like i can go shoe shopping now.

a branch snapping loudly behind me pulls a gasp from my throat, my head whipping around to see the cause of the sudden noise. my heart stops when i make eye contact with the archer, frozen mid step.

i stand up abruptly to try and run, but in my panic don’t realize that my feet are still pulled close to my body.

i cry out when i feel my ankle twist, falling backwards my back slams into the trunk of another tree. the archers eyes grow wide, his hand outstretched as he begins walking towards me. the man is crouched low, his weapon dropped, his footsteps slow as he tries to make himself seem like less of a threat. but i’ve seen this act many times before, i’m not falling for it again.

i finally find my voice when he gets merely a foot away from me, “no!” the archer stops, eyes wide and burrows furrowed as he opens his mouth to speak. i cut him off before he gets the chance. “i don’t wanna go home with you, i don’t wanna fuck you, i’m not joining your group. yes i’m alone- yes i’ve killed people, and no, i will not hesitate to do it again.”

the man tilts his head, surprise passing over his features. after taking a moment to process my words he clears his throat, bending his knees to sit at my level. “yer ankle okay?”

…

what?

the confusion must be obvious on my face, as the man chuckles before repeating himself, “‘s yer ankle okay? took a nasty fall. might wanna lemme look at it.” he reaches out, hand slowly making its way to my ankle. i wanna push him away, but i’m frozen with fear. this man is far bigger than those that have hurt me before, i’m afraid what he’ll do knowing i’m vulnerable.

the archer looks up when his hand is just inches away from my ankle, and stops. realization passes over his eyes, as he registers my silence and unmoving body as fear and not compliance. “it’s a’right,” he mumbles as his hand retreats back to his body, “swear, ‘m not gonna hurt ya. ma names daryl. what’s yours?”

his heavy southern accent catches me off guard, and i try but fail to hide the small smile creeping up onto my face. daryl produces a little grin of his own at this, but i can tell he doesn’t do it often. an ache burns in my chest seeing such a beautiful smile, with no smile lines or wrinkles to accompany it. he’s doing it to comfort me. i let him.

i clear my throat before mumbling my name, the man nodding slowly in silent acknowledgment. “you’re not here to hurt me?” a pained look flashes over daryl’s face, but it’s so quick i almost feel like i imagined it. “nah,” he says gruffly, “i don’t wanna hurt ya. i’s just tryin’ to make sure you’re alright. saw ya bolt soon as i looked atcha, wanted you to know i was friendly.”

i watch as his left hand twitches before lifting, moving towards my face rather than my ankle this time. i’m tense, but no longer out of fear of him hurting me. it’s been years since i’ve been touched in a way that wasn’t meant to cause harm. my eyes water and daryl’s hand flinches when it’s right beside my cheek. i watch him hesitate, he clearly doesn’t show affection often.

finally, after what feels like hours, daryl’s hand cups my cheek, his thumb rubbing against my cheek bone softly, as if he’s afraid too much pressure would break me. a tear falls from the pools in my eyes and daryl’s quick to catch it, but he doesn’t say anything. he understands, i think.

i press my check further into his hand, sighing softly. my eyelids feel heavy, but i fight to stay awake. exhaustion is creeping it, that accompanied with being dehydrated and hurting my ankle makes it nearly impossible to keep my eyes open.

“hey,” daryl mumbles, keeping his voice low so he doesn’t scare me. i open my eyes wider, and the man doesn’t speak until he can tell he has my full attention. “i know ya already said you wouldn’t,” he begins, “but i got a family. we live somewhere not far from here, somewhere safe. got fences surrounding the place. there’s kids there, community.”

i rest my head in his hand, no longer trying to hold it up on my own. i’m almost positive he’s talking about the prison i spotted a while back, but was too afraid to venture towards, so i ask. “the prison?” my voice shows my obvious exhaustion, but i’m so scared to let myself be vulnerable in front of someone.

daryl seems surprised i knew what he was talking about, but nods quickly. “yeah, the prison. i wanna take you there. get that ankle looked at. you gon’ let me?” i don’t want to, fear reaching out and taking a tight grip on my heart. but daryl seems kind, trustworthy, like i could rely on him for anything. so, after a moment, my lips part. “…ok.”

the corner of his mouth twitches, a smile itching to show itself. “ok,” he agrees. “can you walk?” i place a hand on the trunk behind me and against his arm for balance, i pull myself up to stand, but as soon as i put pressure on my ankle i collapse. daryl is quick to catch me, a grunt of surprise leaving his lips. “sorry, i’m sorry. i thought i could,” i scramble to defend myself.

daryl shakes his head, brushing me off. “c’mere,” the archer mumbles. he placed an arm behind my legs and my back, lifting me up bridal style as if i weigh nothing. i’m too tired to argue, my head falling weakly against his chest. daryl walks towards his belongings, scooping up his crossbow and bag. he places me down just long enough to place both items on his back, asking if i have any possessions of my own. if daryl sees the sadness behind my eyes when i shake my head he doesn’t mention it, simply lifting me into his arms once more.

my eyes slip shut as he walks, basking in the feeling of finally being off my feet. i don’t open my eyes when he stops walking, nor do i flinch when he sits on something, placing me in his lap as curled up as he could without disturbing me. i feel the rumble of an engine beneath me, and barely register the fact that we’re on a motorcycle before sleep takes over, daryl driving slowly home.

~*~

the next few days were nothing short of stressful. when i arrived at the prison i was fading in and out of consciousness, daryl having to carry me inside. he placed me on a bed in the cell block, and introduced me to a man named hershel before i passed out.

after sleeping for a day and getting my ankle fixed up by hershel, i met the rest of the people inside the prison. they welcomed me with open arms, daryl’s family that is- not everyone was as kind. i’d learned to differentiate between the people who’d actually fought for the prison, and those who were brought here.

daryl’s family fought tooth and nail to get the place cleared and make it a home worth living in, and i could tell they took pride in it. they were all kind souls, with memories of a war burning behind they’re eyes. i like carl, he’s sweet. when i was first introduced to him he squinted at me, the slits of his eyes and the tilt of his head immediately putting me on edge. to be 13 years old, the kid was terrifying.

“i like your tattoo,” he’d mumbled, about an hour after our introduction. i turned to ask him which one, but he was behind me, so the only one visible to him must’ve been the one between my shoulder blades.

“it’s a dragonfly, right?” carl continued speaking, taking my silence as the bit of acknowledgment it was. “they’re my favorite bug, used to be my mom’s favorite too. i always thought if i saw one it’d be her, letting me know she was here. i haven’t seen one until now.” i knew right then and there that i’d kill anyone or anything that tried to hurt the little sheriff.

i get along with carol pretty well too, which daryl seems to appreciate. i can tell he really cares about her, but their relationship is more older sister/little brother than it is romantic. right now i’m curled up in a ball on my bunk, reading a book beth had recommended to me. the plot is kind of hard to keep up with, so i’m stuck halfway through the book flipping back and forth to figure out how i got here.

a knocking on the doorframe of my cell puts a momentary pause on my flipping, my eyes glancing upwards to see who was disturbing me during my free time. a smile lights up my face when i realist just daryl, patting the bed beside me and waiting for him to take a seat i continue flitting through the pages. i don’t notice daryl’s stare burning wholes into the side of my head until he clears his throat, the noise making my face snap towards him.

“you okay?” my voice was quiet, almost incomprehensible, but daryl heard me. “yeah,” he mumbled, tone matching mine. i open my mouth to protest, clearly seeing that there’s something on his mind, when he moves. instinctively i flinch, but daryl’s hands cup my jaw firmly as his lips press against mine. the kiss lasts about five seconds before i’m pulling away, gasping for breath.

my wide eyes meet daryl’s, his filled with worry, mine with confusion. “i don’t, uh,” the archer mumbles, “i don’ really know how to use words for stuff like this. but- i really like you. an’ you don’t have ta like me back. i jus’ needed to tell you cause my chest kinda aches when i see you playing with carl or sitting with carol and yer so comfortable with them but you ain’t with me an-“

i press my lips against his in a passionate kiss, effectively stopping his rant before it turned into a panic attack. once i was sure he’d calmed down, i pulled back. making sure daryl was listening, i replied, “i really, really like you, daryl dixon.” a grin overtakes his face, daryl seemingly not noticing. but the man buried his face in my neck, arms wrapping around my waist as he tried tucking himself into me.

my giggles fill the small room, daryl scoffing a laugh against my neck as he lays me down. “dare,” i huff, “what are you doing?” the archer simply readjusts his position on top of me, grabbing the blanket to cover us both. “sleepin’,” he mumbles, like it’s the only logical answer. and maybe it is.

#the walking dead #twd #twd daryl #twd carl #twd fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #thewalkingdead #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl x female reader

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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hey :)) first off, i love the hozier caption in your bio. second, I’ve been reading so many of your fics recently and i think you’re sooo talented! i wanna be like you when I grow up (im 20 almost 21 lol)

anyways, I’ve never really requested anything but i wanna give it a try. I was wondering if you could do a poly!marauders x reader fic or a just remus x reader fic where’s she’s driving and accidentally hits an animal and is really upset about it but they’re there to help to her move it and comfort her.

i just hit a cat and im not taking it well. we think it was just a stray cause I left my number with it in case but no one has called. my family kinda, but not really, made fun of me for being so sad about it and i kinda just need something with the guys being so affectionate and loving with her after everything.

it’s totally okay if youre not up to it! I understand that it’s such a hard topic so I won’t be offended if you don’t feel comfortable writing in this.

thank you again and im sooo looking forward to youre future work!! you’re talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before (lady gaga)

Mwah mwah mwah <3<3

-aves

(sorry this is so long)

Hi sweetheart, thank you so much! (Is your username a Lizzy McAlpine reference? I love that) I'm really sorry you went through this, I've been fortunate enough to have never hit an animal but I've seen it happen and it's so horrible, I'm really sorry you've been dealing with this :(( I think you did the right thing by leaving your number with it, and I hope the weight of that trauma and grief is starting to lift off you my love. Thank you for requesting <3

cw: mention of killing an animal, reader feeling guilty

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words

James hears the door and is up instantly, bounding down the hall to greet you and Sirius.

“Hello!” he calls ahead, eager for company after being left alone in your flat for over a half hour. “You guys took your time today, I thought even Remus might beat you home. Was traffic a riot, or…”

Sirius is looking at him with panic in his blue-gray eyes, clearly trying to convey one of those telepathic messages James has never been great at interpreting, and you…you’re looking at nothing. Your gaze is distant as you work off your shoe, the area around your eyes puffy and gray with smudged mascara.

“Hey,” James breathes, then feels stupid. It sounds like he’s accusing you of something. He tries again. “Is everything okay?”

Sirius gives him a look that says What do you think? and crouches beside you to help with a stubborn knot in your shoelace. Your hands are trembling, James notices. Dread settles like a stone in his stomach.

“I’ve got it,” Sirius murmurs to you, fingers gentle as they intercept your own, but the alarm doesn’t leave his expression as he watches your face. Ah. As much as it kills James to see you upset, Sirius will have no idea what to do with you in this state. Tears have always set him on edge.

James squats, joining the two of you on the floor. “Hi, sweetheart.” He does his best to keep his own anxiety out of his voice as his hand finds your ankle, fingers wrapping around the bit of skin between the hem of your jeans and your socks. “Has something happened?”

Your eyes meet his already full of tears, and James braces himself. Sirius does too, by the look of it, his shoulders tensing as he watches your face like you’re about to crumble away to nothing right here on their doormat.

“I—�� That’s all you get out before you have to bite down on your lip to keep from crying. A tiny whimper escapes, and spider web cracks spread across James’ heart. A sluggish tear leaks from your right eye.

“It’s okay,” he swears, though he has no way of knowing it. You press the back of your hand to your mouth, trying to quell the sobs that shake your frame even with no air to feed them. “Oh, honey.” James leans forward, wrapping you in an awkward but very heartfelt hug, your knees between his chest and yours but your head crossing the distance to wet his shoulder with your tears.

A sympathetic pressure builds in James’ sinuses, but he does his best to breathe through it. Stability tends to help you more than sympathy in these situations, and since Remus isn’t home yet, it’s left to James to be the reasonable one (Sirius would have all sorts of jokes to make about that, but he doesn’t seem to be feeling up to them either).

He gives you a few moments of reprieve, a few passes of his palm up and down your spine, before trying again. “What’s going on?” he asks, gently as he can. “You guys are scaring me. Sirius?”

Sirius’ brow pinches like he almost doesn’t want to say it either, and the anticipation in James’ chest heavies. “We were driving home,” he says slowly, keeping a wary eye on you lest he worsen your upset, “and a rabbit ran in front of the car.”

Relief nearly chokes James at the same time as a sympathetic sorrow takes ahold of him. He pets the back of your head. You tremble with the force of your crying, leaning into his touch greedily.

“She was driving?” he asks quietly, though he’s nearly sure. If your reaction isn’t enough to go off of, he already knows that you usually pick Sirius up from work and drive the both of you home.

Sirius nods.

“It doesn’t sound like there was anything you could do,” he murmurs to you, cupping the back of your neck to encourage you to look up at him. You do, sniffling as your lip quivers, and James uses his thumb to brush a wet streak of mascara from your blotchy cheek.

“It must have been so scared.” Your voice breaks on the last word and James’ heart along with it, leaving a throbbing wound in the center of his chest.

“I doubt it had time to be scared, honey,” he tries to reassure you, but his own voice is fraught. He looks to Sirius. “Did you…do you know if it…passed?”

Sirius is half hiding behind his hair, a sure tell of his disquiet, and it brushes his shirt collar when he nods again. “We weren’t sure at first, so I got out to move it off the road. It was dead.” He winces at his wording, and you bite down on your lip harshly. His tone softens as he addresses you. “I really don’t think it felt any pain.”

You look nowhere near ready to believe him, and James is preparing to offer to make you a cup of tea and let you sort out your grief at your own pace when the front door opens again, stopping when it hits Sirius’ side.

“Oh.” Remus pokes his head through. “Hello. Why are we all sitting on the floor?”

Sirius scoots the rest of the way out of the door’s path before deciding to stand instead. He speaks to Remus in a low voice while James runs a hand up and down your side in an attempt to soothe you. He locks eyes with Remus over your shoulder, watching as the taller boy’s gaze takes on the weight of understanding.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Remus wraps Sirius in a half-hug, kissing his surprised boyfriend on the temple before stooping beside you. “That must have been awful to have to see. Let’s get you up, yeah?” He wraps a spindly hand around your forearm, more encouragement than anything, and James grips your other hand as he stands to pull you up with him.

Neither of them seem quite willing to break contact with you, walking you over to the couch like a newborn fawn despite your murmured I’m okay. Sirius follows close behind. The both of you look like you’re perching rather than sitting, unable to completely relax even now that you’re home.

“It must have been quite a scare,” Remus sympathizes, sitting on the edge of his favored armchair.

“A bit,” Sirius mutters, and your throat bobs.

Remus cocks his head. “What’re you thinking, darling?”

James almost wants to look away at the rawness in your expression as you raise your eyes to meet Remus’. “I just…I can’t believe I killed it. I’ve never” —your voice pitches, and you swallow again— “I’ve never killed anything before.”

“It was an accident,” James tells you, beseeching.

“You couldn’t have stopped,” Sirius says. His voice has an odd, desperate quality to it, and James sees Remus notice it at the same time as he does, both boys leaning forward to see Sirius better. For the first time, James notices—had he missed it before, or has it only just started?—that Sirius is trembling slightly too. James’ free hand twitches instinctively toward him, but his dark-haired boyfriend is only touchy when he’s in a good mood. He’s not keen on physical comfort; no matter how many years James has worked on him, Sirius has always preferred to keep his struggles internal. “Or avoided it,” he goes on. “It happened too fast.”

Remus nods at you. “As awful as it is, these things happen sometimes. Hopefully,” he adds when another tear slips down your cheek, “never again to you, but selfish as it is, I’m glad you didn’t slam on the brakes or anything else that could have gotten you and Sirius hurt instead.”

You glance at Sirius, and he gives you a weak smile, taking your hand and squeezing gently.

“Nothing you could have done,” he whispers.

Your lips tremble again. James watches as panic flashes in Sirius’ eyes, but he keeps it together. “I’m really sorry,” you tell him, voice wavering. “I shouldn’t have made you take care of the bunny by yourself.”

James' chest aches as Sirius takes a steadying breath. “You were frazzled. Understandably upset,” he corrects himself, squeezing your hand again. This time you squeeze back. “It was a one-man job anyway.”

You make a soft sound, leaning your head on his shoulder, and James has the sense something has settled a bit in each of you. He raises your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of yours as Remus’ eyebrows furrow.

“Have you had a chance to wash your hands, love?” he asks Sirius, who blinks.

“No. I forgot.”

Despite the heavy atmosphere, James actually feels the beginnings of a smile tempting his lips as he watches Remus forcibly quell his horror. “Right, then. Why don’t we go do that in the kitchen now, and I’ll make us all some tea.”

“Good idea,” James says heartily, swiping his thumb back and forth over his own kiss on your hand. “Hey, could we take out the good cookies as well?”

Remus hums what James chooses to interpret as assent, shepherding Sirius into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” you say to James once the other two are out of hearing.

He looks down at you. “What for, sweetheart?”

You shrug, your shoulders remaining just a tad too high after the motion. You’ve stopped crying, and James is grateful, but he doesn’t think this shameful look is a vast improvement. “I feel like I’m being dramatic. And Sirius is the one who had to see it. He had to drive home too, I was too upset.”

James’ battered, broken heart wells for the both of you. He forgoes his attentions to your hand, wrapping his arm around your shoulders instead to tuck you against his side. “You’re not being dramatic,” he promises, “okay? You and Sirius were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you both had to witness something awful.” Your head sinks onto his shoulder, and he rubs your upper arm. “I think it’s alright to be sad for a while. For yourselves, and for the bunny. Just, don’t torment yourself, alright?” He withdraws enough to see your face, and you tilt your gaze up to his. “Please. You don’t deserve the guilt.”

Your eyes cast down, contemplative and a bit shy, a moment before your head comes back to its spot on his shoulder. “Thanks,” you murmur.

“No thanks necessary, babe. You can cry all night if you need to, I’ll be right here. Just do me a favor,” he lowers his voice, glancing toward the kitchen, “let me sit between you and Sirius if you do. Many more tears and I think he’ll have a heart attack.”

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delusion-is-back · 3 months ago

Text

*slams fist on the table* you know what I want? I want a fic of Jayce and Vi in a lavender marriage

I want a story where Jayce Talis, young and successful bachelor of Piltover starts getting marriage proposals from some of the more powerful families in Piltover, all of them with the clear intent of getting their grubby hands on Hextech as it's being developed. And Jayce, not knowing how to tell those vulture to fuck off decides the best course of action is to fake already being married to someone he knows won't screw him over.

His first choice is Cait, she's the single daughter of the Kiramman house, she would be a perfect match except for the fact that she's like his little sister, just the thought of suggesting a marriage to his openly lesbian little sister makes him want to barf, he can't ask her that. Plus he doesn't fully trust Cassandra not to take advantage of their fake marriage when it comes to hextech and he would rather not risk it.

She other obvious option would be Mel, another member of the council they would make the best power couple in Piltover but again, it doesn't feel right to ask that of her, Jayce knows that Mel would understand his predicament and help him but it would be serving Hextech in a silver platter to Ambessa if she got wind of her daughter marring the Man of Progress.

The list of women he would ask this is very short, while all of this is going on Jayce realizes he really needs to make more friends.

Jinx is not an option, not even a consideration she would kill him for even asking and he would rather take his chances with the vultures than with her.

That only leaves one, the one person he really, really didn't want to ask but realistically was his better shot at.

Vi would laugh at him for two solid minutes until she realizes he's being serious, followed by Vi trying to carefully reject him because "You're a cool guy Jayce, but you're really not my type" which Jayce would sulk on later but for now he really needs Vi to agree to help him with this before he loses his mind.

It takes a lot of begging and a lot of yapping, a lot of appealing to Vi's good heart and the danger of Hextech falling into the wrong hands before she starts to listen. Vi doesn't understand why Jayce can't just tell them to fuck off but that's rich people's problems she doesn't really wanna know about. Until she finally, reluctantly, agrees to do him this one solid because in all fairness she took his gauntlets and never gave them back.

And so Jayce makes a public announcement to the investors who kept bugging him with marriage proposals to, respectfully, fuck off because the man of progress already has a wife. Now that's out of the way, another problem surges because Jayce Talis is not very good at evaluating the consequences of action, because now the council and the people of piltover want to meet Mrs. Talis.

Stuffing Vi in a formal dress is no easy task, for one because none of Cait's really fit her, and those that do are a little too long and Vi already stated that she's not wearing heels, she can handle a dress but those ankle snapping heels are off the table, it's her regular shoes hidden under a long skirt dress or nothing.

Taking Vi to a formal event felt like dragging a bull into a china shop and locking the door, Jayce's behind didn't unclench for the entire night as he shuttled her around the uppercrust of piltover, they'd made up some bullshit story about Vi's past since being a former inmate of stillwater was not a very compelling story. If any members of the council recognized Violet they didn't say anything.

Now you may be wondering where is Viktor in all of this? Wouldn't he have something to say about it? Well he's just enjoying the shitshow from the sidelines, because Jayce Talis forgot one crucial thing about the whole thing; there's no such thing as homophobia in Ruterra, and if the issue was Jayce finding a spouse quick Viktor would've been more than willing to play along for the sake of protecting Hextech, but before he could even suggest it Jayce was already digging his own grave and it was way to entertaining for Viktor not to sit back and watch it all go down. He would tell Jayce how dumb his plan was another day and watch the realization hit him, but for now he's just having a good time watching Jayce Talis trying to handle the toughest pink haired lesbian of all of Zaun.

#arcane #arcane jayce #vi arcane #arcane writting #arcane season 2 #jayvik

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 4 months ago

Text

Going under

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 6

Rated: E

Tags: Dubious consent; Monster Steve; Dark Steve; Monsterfucker Eddie; Tentacle Sex; Implied mind control; Murder Boyfriends; Blood and gore

Notes: Continued from here

Eddie shivers as he watches the boiling surface of the lake. The early August wind is cold, and Wayne's old rifle shakes in his grip. Maybe it's the early onset of fall in the air. Maybe it's because his hair and clothes are drenched in lake water, or because of the adrenaline slowly leaving his body.

Maybe it's because of the blood cooling on his skin.

The water stirs once more, large bubbles bursting on the surface. Then it goes calm.

The sun is gone, but the surface is red.

He should leave.

He should get rid of the gun and burn his clothes before anyone sees him. Get out of the county, or maybe the whole damn state, assume a new name and start over.

But he doesn't.

He knows there's no use in running. The Call would reach him anywhere. There's only one way out.

Something wraps around his ankle, cold and wet like the lake itself. He doesn’t need to look to know what it is. Instead, he watches how Steve emerges from the shallow water near the shore. His eyes are two shiny marbles in the gloomy half-light, tentacles writhing around him in a dark, twitching mass. A chill trickles down Eddie’s spine, settling in his bones, his soul. His fingers curl around the rifle.

“You're thinking of using that thing against me?” Steve's eyes are large and round, his voice hurt. He'd look boyish and innocent, if it wasn't for the blood staining his chin and chest. “Why on earth would you do that?”

Eddie can feel the Call slither inside of him, like the tentacle wrapping around his leg. He clenches his teeth against it, even as his feet start moving, lake water seeping into his shoes.

“You're a monster,” he whispers. “You ate-”

“I ate him, yes,” Steve says easily. His hands, too, are red as they reach out to beckon Eddie deeper into the water. He goes as if pulled on a string. “It's in my nature. You, on the other hand? You killed him, pet. What does that make you, hm?”

He smiles, soft and indulgent, with just a hint of fangs glinting behind those pretty lips of his. They're stained red.

Eddie shakes his head. He's in to his waist now, his shorts a heavy weight in the water. “I'm nothing like you, I don't- … I didn't enjoy it. He was a horrible person, he had to go.”

“Of course he had to,” Steve purrs, opening his arms to let Eddie in. His tongue, pointed and so much longer than a human one, darts out to lick the blood off his face in long, thorough drags. “He was in your way. Just like the others.”

The water is up to his chest. The ground under his feet is gone, but Steve's tentacles are around his waist, around his legs, trapping him in place and keeping him afloat. The tip of one wiggles its way down the front of his shorts, nimble like a human hand.

“That's not what-” he starts to say, but then the tentacle wraps around his cock, and the words give way to a breathy moan. Even with the awful chill filling every cell of his being, he's half hard already. Maybe the realization should fill him with terror or alarm, but he can't for the life of him remember why. Not when Steve is so ethereally pretty, with his tousled caramel hair, bronze skin dotted in moles and little specks of crimson.

“Just like all of them, right?” Steve says. His touch is slow and teasing, gentle almost, but the fangs scraping at Eddie’s rabitting pulse are sharp. “Just like everyone else in this godforsaken town. Looking down at you, calling you a freak and a monster and an abomination.”

“I'm not,” Eddie gasps. They're out in the middle of the lake now, red tendrils still floating all around them. There's more tentacles pulling down his pants, leaving him naked in the cold water. Desire coils at the base of his spine, clouds his head like mud in clear water. “I'm not … a monster.”

“Aw,” Steve coos, bloodied hands coming up to cradle Eddie’s head. It's the only thing left above the surface now. “But you are. Why else would you be so good at this? Why else would you keep feeding me so well? Why else would you respond to my Call so beautifully? Why else would you enjoy this?”

His lips taste like blood as he licks into Eddie’s mouth. The pressure and burn of his tentacles slipping inside, cold and thick and nimble, is the most beautiful pain Eddie’s ever felt.

Maybe Steve is right, he thinks, obediently opening his mouth for that tongue. There's blood on his face, blood in his mouth. Steve's hands in his hair, too-sharp nails cutting into his scalp. Steve's tentacles moving inside of him, a second and third joining the first, while another keeps toying with his aching cock. Maybe they are more alike than he thought. Maybe he should just accept that.

The rifle is gone from his hand, slipped under the water to join the remains of their victims on the lake bed.

There's no way out.

More holiday drabbles

He's going down, and the chill is taking over his entire being.

Tag list: @noodle-shenaniganery

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles 2024

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justlemmeadoreyou · 1 year ago

Note

can you do one where Mafia Harry (or any other au) takes care of her after she said her feet hurt from wearing heels all evening at the party, exchanges his footwear with her heels.

Love's Comfort

Word Count: ~500

Warnings: none, just pure fluff

(also, I imagined him as lhh)

masterlist | ask box(requests are open!)

The opulent ballroom was a swirl of elegance and extravagance. It was a night of glitz and glamour, and you had been Harry's date to the exclusive party. You were decked out in a stunning evening gown and a pair of sky-high heels that accentuated your beauty. As the night progressed, your feet began to ache from the hours spent in those ridiculously high heels.

You slowly whispered to Harry, "My feet are killing me in these heels, Harry."

Harry, who looked every bit the charismatic and enigmatic figure of the underground world, was quick to respond. "Let's take care of that, love."

With a nod and a sly smile, he led you to a quieter corner of the ballroom, away from prying eyes. You took a seat on a plush velvet chair, and Harry knelt down in front of you.

"Give me your feet," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You obediently extended your legs, and Harry gently removed the stiletto heels from your feet. As he held your heels in his hands, he gently massaged your ankles and feet, the tenderness of his touch sending a rush of warmth and adoration through your heart.

You couldn't help but let out a contented sigh as the pain started to ease away. "You're my knight in shining armor, Harry."

But Harry wasn't done yet. He stood up and removed his expensive leather shoes. You watched in surprise as he handed them to you.

"Here," he said, "Put these on. They're much more comfortable."

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at the expensive shoes in your hand, and then at Harry's socked feet. "Harry, these are your shoes. What about your feet?"

Harry chuckled and shrugged. "I've survived worse, love. I want you to be comfortable."

With your feet now in the comfy shoes, you stood up and realized that you were nearly the same height as Harry. It was a small but meaningful gesture, one that made you feel so much cared for and cherished by him.

With a grateful and loving look, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Thank you, Harry. You always take such good care of me."

He held you close, his arms wrapped around you "That's my job, love. I'll do anything to make you happy."

At the end of the night, as you left the party together, Harry took your hand and led you to the waiting car. The night had been a whirlwind of luxury and excitement, but what you cherished the most was the memory of Harry taking care of you.

As the night continued, you and Harry danced and mingled with the other partygoers, your feet thanking you for the reprieve from the heels. There was something incredibly romantic about being in the arms of a dangerous man who also had a soft, attentive side just for you.

Only you.

As you drove away from the grand event, you leaned your head on Harry's shoulder, your heart full of love for the man beside you. He had a way of making every moment special, and you knew that you were truly lucky to have him by your side.

>>>

any like, comment or reblog is much, much appreciated ❤️

here's my ko-fi if you feel generous

>>>

taglist: @freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @whoreonmondays @avalentina @kathb59

let me know if you want to be added or removed!

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azurem · 26 days ago

Note

The catholic church

First of all I need you all to know that if jesus existed in the undertale verse a great part of his lore would him being a human with a monster's soul. Anyways.

Catholic church! The church usually is very linked to tradition keeping and the like. Very conservative. If it existed within Dreamtale, I'm very sure it would very well shape the AU itself just because of the era it was located in. Nightmare, at least, would be influenced a lot by its ideas mainly because the church and its ideals would shape enlightening; most books Nightmare would have access to (as they're in an european based AU if I'm not wrong) are mostly written by very religious people, and if not, they are very much censored by the same church.

So Nightmare himself, at least on the basis, would be pretty. Hm. Y'know. Traditional. Even without the church existing, you can't deny there should be some leftovers of this same traditionalism. He was the most well-read, after all. And he read a lot. A lot of those ideas must have mixed with his character (he had to super update all his biology related knowledge because it was antiquated. Dddoes he know the Earth is round????? Im not knowledgeable enough about this im sorry)

Anyways. I believe his traditionalism also mixes with the way he interacts with other people; to make the link to inkmare, yes, this also includes how he chooses to see his relationship with Ink. And how he treats it after. Like, once he's decided that Ink's the one his way to approach him wouldn't be that harsh because he knows in principle that courtship doesn't go like that. I think he's knowledgeable about the principle of Chivalrous romance and while I think he'd unconsciously idolize it to some degree I like to think he'd know that it most probably won't work because society isn't the same. His knowledge about romance is obsolete, so he needs to update it asap.

Very awkward.

Even once the courtship is fruitful (as they're now somewhat official) I think he'd (gets tomatoed) be very much. Hm. Yknow. This is evil but I think he'd try to imitate a somewhat heteronormative relationship because that's what he knows the most about. While he knows it's odd and senseless (their relationship is a hidden thing after all so there's nothing to prove to anyone but each other) it's still somewhat preferable to the uncertainty of. Just not knowing how to shape it. But I think it's still hard because neither of them fit the frames to make it somewhat work so it's eventually abandoned. Still, I think Nightmare is still hit by the "oh I need to provide— no, we don't need money. I need to protect— no, he can do it alone. I need to feed— no, we don't eat. Agh. I need to... Repop— NO. At least share a house—????"

Anyways my version of him would also be into. Hmm. Dressing conservatively (which is why I draw him with pants instead of shorts, he'd just find it odd to show so much "skin"). Surprisingly, he's pretty okay with Ink wearing his normal outfit since it's pretty modest except for the shoe problem. However he likes to believe he's a gentleman so he doesn't stare. Most of the time. A hint of ankle would kill him instantly

#ask #zu yapping

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 1 year ago

Text

🎃 Why is it Red?

Blood CW: Death, zombies, blood, Dead Dove fic, non-con, oral, pain, bodily harm, sadism, dead dove

"Move! Move! Move!" (Reader) shot another undead between the eyes, splattering their face in gore due to the proximity.

The team of survivors ran through the back alleys of the dead infested city, climbing fences and garbage piles in an attempt to out maneuver the horde chasing them. It was dangerous and stupid, entering the hot zone like they did, but the survivors were running low on necessities so the adventure was a risk they had to take.

(Reader) cried out as their foot got caught in garbage, their ankle twisting on a piece of abandoned machinery, popping louder than the sound of their heavy boots falling on wet pavement. They collapsed in the empty alley, watching as their two comrades turned to them in fear.

"Go without me!" (Reader) shrugged off their backpack full of supplies, tossing it to the survivor closest to them.

"(Reader), don't give up-"

(Reader) pulled back the hammer on their gun, aiming it at their brother while forcing back their tears. They would try to limp their way back, but it was too important for those supplies to get to their camp; they couldn't risk the mission to drag (Reader) back with them. He got the hint, clenching his jaw tightly while trying not to break down himself. "I'll find my way back, go now!"

After the other two scuffled away, (Reader) was left in the eerie silence, straining their ears for the sounds of the deceased. They knew the horde would find them, it didn't matter how many alleys they had traveled through, nor how many obstacles they traversed. No one was as tenacious as a zombie.

Shuffling of torn shoes rounded a corner, multiple of the undead finding (Reader) much faster than they had hoped for. Their pant leg was rapidly darkening, blood sticking the fabric to their skin. Horrified, (Reader) unlaced their boot. In the adrenaline of the moment they hadn't realized that the popping sound wasn't their ankle getting sprained. Inside the boot (Reader's) bone poked through their skin.

They couldn't help but laugh.

Of course this was how they go out.

They had survived so much bullshit, and now they were going to die... because they broke their leg on a trash pile.

(Reader) killed one of the shamblers. There was no point in keeping quiet; their blood would attract the entire city. The next rotter also went down. Thankfully, these were the slower ones, the older ones. Once the sprinters came (Reader's) only choice would be to spare themselves from the pain of being eaten alive.

Groaning and snarling closed in on (Reader's) alley.

A fast one twitched her head towards (Reader), snapping her teeth as she tasted their blood in the air. She lurched, ready to charge, when something grabbed her from behind, ripping her head off and tossing it effortlessly.

Something stepped into view, horrifying (Reader). They had never seen such a thing, and the fight or flight response failed them, freezing them solid. They were used to killing zombies, but this..

It stood almost seven feet tall, pure white eyes with it's nose and lips torn off. The muscles looked as though they had suddenly grown on death, growing so quickly that it tore through it's skin. The stretched grey and red skin looked painfully tight, tearing in places from the strain of it's own mass. (Reader's) wide eyes traveled down it's form, observing it's painful physique, almost too numb from fear to register that it was naked.

The monster stalked closer, taking long strides towards the pitiful human, shaking too hard to aim their weapon. It reached down, ripping the bloody boot off (Reader's) swelling foot. They screamed in pain, snapping out of their petrification. A bullet landed right between the thing's eyes, but it only barely pierced it's thick skull, stopping before it even touched the brain.

"What the fuck?!" (Reader) hollered, tears cleaning the dirt from their cheeks. They went to fire again, but the creature yanked the gun away. It huffed, rolling it's blind eyes back. Pulling (Reader) up by their broken leg, they cried hysterically as they were suspended upside down.

It's tongue ran across their shin, shivering as it tasted (Reader's) blood. (Reader) wanted to know what was going to happen to them, but couldn't see the monster's face. And worse, their head was level to his nude pelvis, finally noticing it's giant cock raising towards them, growing larger by the second.

The thing growled, sucking and licking (Reader's) exposed bone with it's cold, rotting tongue. It slammed (Reader) against the wall, pressing it's dick against their lips. It reeked like piss and death, making (Reader) briefly wonder where that cock has been, or in what?

The slimy tip parted their lips. (Reader) tried to keep their teeth wired shut, but involuntarily opened to scream when their attacker stuck his tongue into the open wound, knocking loose shards of tibia. It took advantage of the pain to ram it's erection down (Reader's) throat, violently dislocating their jaw in the process.

It continued drinking from their leg as it forcefully face fucked (Reader), slamming their skull into the brick wall with each thrust of it's hips. The chipped teeth lightly grazed (Reader's) flesh, threatening to take a chunk out of their leg.

(Reader) couldn't breathe, the girthy cock from the corpse filling their throat so completely that it hurt to even try breathing through their nose. It tasted disgusting, like how a decomposing body smelled. Every time (Reader) focused on the pain in their throat and jaw, the creature fucked with their leg again, prodding (Reader's) gash to draw out more blood, spreading the hot fluid across it's face.

They thought they were going to pass out. Whether from the shock or from the lack of oxygen, they didn't know. Whenever the pain began to numb itself the zombie would pick up the pace, power jacking his dick into (Reader's) mouth, forcing their mandibular joint to creak, spreading a white hot fire across (Reader's) head as their jaw threatened to shatter. Craving the blood from (Reader's) ankle, it tightened it's grip on the break, cracking the bone further in it's paw, relishing in the red dribbling down it's chin.

A thick gunk sprayed into (Reader's) stomach, filling their neck so quickly that it squirted out their nose and plugged up the few gaps left in their airways. The cock twitched as more of it's foul cum filled (Reader's) body, making them ill, vomiting on the large member.

The creature seemed pleased, pulling it's newest toy off it's deflating organ. (Reader) continued barfing, trying not to notice that the color of the jizz they were spitting up was red.

(Reader) was slung over the zombie's shoulder, carried through the town to a fate worse than death..

#dead dove do not eat #kinktober #i'm sorry this took so long #cw blo0d #cw death #cw zombie #cw noncon #cw violence #not proofread #bad writing #i'm just so tired

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pleiades-7 · 19 days ago

Text

Reposting one of my first edits but with the quality issue fixed! The delay with this one was due to the bit of writing I had planned, unfortunately it took me forever.

The following is a little blurb I wrote inspired by the theme of the edit from his perspective.

He finds his father. He finds his family. And Tom Riddle is buried beneath the rage that this discovery invokes. What does he find, after all his years of effort? He finds rubble.

So his mother had been magical. She had been the one to set him apart from his muggle peers. She had still died. She died just the same as the other women whose bodies could not endure the strain of birth. The orphanage had seen plenty. She, however, died despite being magical.

Though, taking in the state of the house she had been raised in, it’s no wonder she’d been frail enough to die.

He was robbed of his mother, and those responsible are nothing more than a disgrace to Slytherin’s name.

If her father had not been so cruel, if her brother had not squashed her under his heel. Perhaps- well, he’ll never know.

She should have killed them, for what they’d done to her. He would have killed them, with a rusty knife if nothing else. Sometimes the muggle way was unavoidable. But his mother was not strong. His mother was a weak, frail woman.

And his father?

His father was a cruel, arrogant man.

Who lived in wealth and comfort while Tom sat in that brick room day after day- in clothes that began to shrink- socks that cut off his circulation and pants that revealed his ankles. While Tom watched fire rain from the sky, while Tom listened to the shrapnel and the screams. His father ate fine cheeses in his mansion estate.

There was nothing for him to find but ruin.

Tom Marvolo Riddle stood in the Riddle house and felt such overwhelming vitriol, it chilled him to his core. It was not enough. Wand in hand, their bodies growing just as cold on the soft carpet, he is unmoored.

He could tear the whole house to the ground. He could destroy all of Little Hangleton, and it would not be enough.

His mother had been strangled by this town.

By the belief that pure blood was what bred magical affinity. Their whole family was proof to the contrary-

By the muggles who thought her nothing more than an eyesore.

He would be every bit the ugliness that his pretty face tricked them into thinking he was incapable of.

He hated her. But he hated them more. Hated his grandfather who had used his limited breath to crow on and on about family heirlooms he had no right to. Living in squalor. Salazar Slytherin would look on at them in derision. And Tom Riddle knew they weren’t worth the dirt on his shoes.

He hated all of them. He hated his muggle father for living a lush life, never bothering to look for him. Never offering to provide for him as he could have.

He hated the Malfoys and the Blacks. Their heirs, who come from long lines and families with rich history. Full vaults and knowledge aplenty. Who had what he deserved. What should have been his. Who didn’t bother to make use of it. Who wasted all the things Tom would have savored.

Tom Marvolo Riddle had known mediocrity. He had lived among it, had fought not to be suffocated by it. The Gaunts did not achieve even that, no, they were deplorable. Their minds in such a state of decay, they were hardly self sufficient.

No, they were the lowest forms of filth that one could encounter. And he was of their blood.

It was an insult that he could not stand to suffer.

The Malfoys were a family old and ancient, money as fervent in their vaults as the blood in their veins. Pure and made entirely of magic.

The Blacks were a family seeped in the darkest magics time had to offer. Secrets, hidden in tombs written years long past, spells forgotten by the masses, rituals that never left the security of the Black library. The right of only the heirs to inherit.

And all that was left of Salazar Slytherin, was a line of descendants so inbred that they couldn’t see straight. These blubbering fools-

Tom had not felt such righteous indignation perhaps, ever.

This what was left for him at the end of his great search? He had finally found what was left of those he was supposed to be able to call his own, and he could not imagine individuals less deserving of being mentioned in the same sentence.

Using their deaths to split his soul was revolting. He could stand to use the Riddle’s. The mere thought of using Morfin Gaunt was so appalling, it did not warrant a moment of consideration.

He stared at Morfin Gaunt, and could hardly believe it to be true.

There were muggles far more capable, squibs with more use-

That did not mean that Morfin would escape, that he would go unpunished. There were many things worse than death, sufferings that he could make a reality.

Tom Riddle would see Morfin Gaunt flail like the useless worm he was. A snake with no fangs, minuscule and insignificant.

Marvolo Gaunt was, for such an unfortunate creature, was immensely lucky. For if he had been here in this house, for Tom to find, there would have been no stopping the pain he craved to weave. The screams that would satisfy a great injustice. An injustice that writhed.

Tom Riddle was no stranger to inflicting punishment for the failures of the weak and pathetic. Their crime was not to be forgiven. Morfin’s sentence of life in Askaban was nothing less than what he deserved. His mistreatment of his sister may have been forgotten. He may have imagined he would never see consequences for it. Tom would rip that false sense of security from him. Tom would hold him accountable when no one else had cared to. Tom would see him rot. Tom cared very little about the rights and wrongs of others. Had very little care for moral obligation. But Morfin Gaunt had played a part in robbing Tom of his mother, and he would be made to pay for it.

Now, oh so many years later, staring at the boy roped to the statue of a reaper, he feels more alive than he ever has before. He feels it in his toes against the cool grave dirt. Feels it in his exhilaration at having a body once more.

The boy struggles helplessly and Voldemort nearly crows with delight.

Voldemort is born from a cauldron with half a mind and all of his mother’s misery, soaked and saturated in the righteous entitlement of a man’s ego.

Voldemort seeks to flee any reminder of his muggle origins. He refuses to use the name of the family lineage he had always longed for, a certain sickness in claiming the name of those who had been so disgusting and vile. Unworthy.

Voldemort is an entity. He is ethereal and monstrous, he has grown poisoned. Standing in a graveyard, above his fathers bones, it is a victory. Reborn in this body of his own design, the rejection of his father is whole. Complete.

Voldemort breathes with lungs of his own making. More a snake than a man now, his brilliant mind working in fractals.

#voldemort #lord voldemort #tom riddle #edit #crash out #orphans #merope gaunt #harry potter #ethel cain #family tree #mommy issues #daddy issues #all kinds of issues really #orphan #harry potter and the chamber of secrets #chamber of secrets

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