#tw invasion of personal space

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Pairing: Yandere!Alastor x Reader

SFW

Word Count: 2'627

Warnings: Yandere behaviour, Implied forced relationship, Implied captivity, Toxic relationship, Possessiveness, Invasion of personal space, Non-consensual touching.

Additional Notes: Do be kind, I have not written for this man before and find him exceedingly difficult.

Every week at the Hotel, there was something new Charlie had planned.

Trust exercises. Ice breakers. Activities meant to bring everybody closer together as a group. To try and get people to open up and show a side of vulnerability that - she believed - would help sinners take one step closer to salvation.

Most of them were awkward, and a lot of them never went as planned. A fact she realized and, after a near mental breakdown, had her promptly take advice from Vaggie and agree to try something different.

The task was very simple compared to the previous activities. She requested everybody to think about redemption and what it meant to them.

Thinking about the definition itself took little to no effort.

Redemption (noun): The action of saving or being saved from sin, error, or evil.

But it was clear that Charlie wanted more than just a quote from the dictionary. She wanted residents of the Hotel to mull over it while looking deep down into themselves so they could share their stance on the matter later on.

That was the tricky part.

From how you saw it, “saving yourself” from sin was easy enough to accomplish. ‘Just don’t be a dick and avoid the bad shit.’ was the first thought that came to mind, but where you hit a snag was based on what Charlie had shared about Heaven. According to her, even so much as breathing in Hell was enough to solidify your place in the inferno, yet she made it clear that actively resisting sin wasn’t something to go unrecognized.

It took a lot of effort, energy, and courage to do so, and it was hard to disagree even if Heaven didn’t see it that way.

Error was a bit harder. In your opinion, nobody could be saved from that, at least not entirely. Eventually, inevitably, you or someone else would do something wrong, it was just a matter of degree. It could be something as minor as bumping into somebody by accident or as major as Angel relapsing for what felt like the hundredth time, but it would happen and it was only a matter of time.

Charlie did bring up a rather good point, though. Apologizing when you realized you had done something wrong was the best thing someone could do, and it was the first step in the right direction.

You had to give her credit where it was due for that.

But evil was a different matter entirely.

Evil lurked everywhere in Hell. Across every street, around every corner, evil was out in the open for everyone to bear witness and see. None of it was hidden. None of it was meant to be hidden.

What would be the point? You and every other sinner were already in Hell - and many would argue that hiding it would be counterintuitive to being there in the first place.

Charlie tried to plead the case that everyone had good in them. A good that could be tweezed out if given the right chance, and the right environment, which the Hotel was perfect for.

You wish you could agree.

Evil was in the hotel itself, not that Charlie was fully willing to see it.

You believed she was careless there. Little Miss Bleeding Heart wanted to see the best in people, and by god did you ever want to know what it was like to see through such rose-tinted glasses, but you knew you never could. Not in this place.

Stepping a foot into the building was the worst thing you’d ever done because it showed you just how wrong you were about evil being so out in the open. It still had the ability to lurk, something you learned the moment you shook hands with Alastor.

You could see it on his face upon meeting him for the first time - the way Alastor’s perpetual grin widened upon seeing the goosebumps that lined your arms when he clasped your hand in his. No comment was ever made on the matter, but the way his lips peeled back to reveal the black of his gums before he pressed a brief kiss to your knuckles said enough.

Something utterly sinister reeked from him in a manner you couldn’t describe, so you took your own advice and applied the same thing you did when it came to sin.

Avoidance. As much as you could, at least.

Some moments were easier than others. The distinct metallic clack of Alastor’s microphone against the floor combined with a surge of radio static usually bought enough time for you to make whatever excuse you needed in order to leave before he arrived.

Other times you weren’t so lucky, and Charlie’s group meetings were usually to blame in that regard.

At first, you made a great deal of effort to put as much distance between yourself and the Radio Demon as you could, which worked for a time. Unfortunately, Alastor caught onto what you were doing much faster than you would’ve liked.

He reveled in it. You knew he did. After a while you had the gnawing suspicion he was purposefully going out of his way to make you as uncomfortable as possible for his own entertainment. You saw no other reason as to why he’d consistently move so close to you that you could literally feel him breathing down your neck.

Lately, he had adopted the skin-crawling habit of locking eyes with you the moment you stepped foot in the room and patting the seat beside him - reserved specifically for you. Accepting the gesture felt like swallowing nails, but being openly rude to Alastor was something that you knew better than to do.

Instead, you began to find excuses for skipping the meetings entirely and have Angel or Husker fill you in later, which was exactly what you were doing now.

“To be honest I wasn’t payin’ much attention,” Angel said while he scrolled through his phone, resting his chin in his upper left hand while his lower right swirled alcohol around in a glass. “Was the kind of thing that could’ve been sent in an email.”

You traced your finger around the rim of your own glass, its contents untouched. “Still, I want to know what I missed.”

“He’s right, it wasn’t anything special,” Husker replied, slinging a cloth over his shoulder from behind the bar. “Same old bullshit about salvation with a new coat of paint on top.”

A pang went through your chest, but you pushed it down. “So nothing new?”

Angel scoffed and looked up from his phone. “Trust me, dollface, you did yourself a favor.” He downed the rest of his drink in one go. “What were you doing anyways?”

“You know…” You replied with a shrug, glancing down. “I went out.”

Angel smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Out?”

“Yeah.” You tapped your nails against the edge of the glass. “Things were feeling a little claustrophobic, so I went out for some air.”

Husker made a noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah, I know how you feel, kid. This place is a mess.”

Angel tilted his head, placing his phone down on the bar and leaning forward a bit. “So where’d you go? Anywhere fun?”

“Where indeed~.”

All your movements went rigid. After a few seconds, you slowly turned your head to look over your shoulder to see Alastor standing barely a foot away from you, staring down at you with a tight, closed-lipped smile. You hadn’t heard him coming in the slightest, which you immediately could tell was intentional.

Whether he’d used his shadow or had actually stalked up behind you wasn’t something you wanted to think about, and if Angel or Husker picked up on the immediate tension, neither of them said anything about it.

“Hey, Smiles.” Angel greeted with his usual flirtation, placing the elbows of his upper arms on the bartop as he turned to face Alastor. “Fancy a drink? You look a little stiff” He gave Alastor a very long once over, “and I’ll have you know I know a few ways I can help relieve some… tension.” 

Alastor’s lips curled back to reveal his teeth, the muscle in his cheek spasming for a moment.

Mentally you were kissing Angel on the cheek for the save as you slowly picked your coat up off the bar and slipped it on, concealing the goosebumps already present on your skin. Husker gave you a glance from the side and gave a very slight shake of his head, silently advising you against your unspoken desire to leave.

“I assure you, such a thing is never going to happen.~”

“You sure?” Angel rested his lower right arm on his hip. “I have a few tricks that can loosen you up.”

The leather in Alastor’s gloves audibly squeaked as his grip tightened around the staff of his microphone and his attention immediately shifted back to you, ignoring Angel entirely.

“My dear,” His voice dripped with such a saccharine sweetness it made you feel sick, “Could I speak with you for a moment?”

Fewer combinations of words could instill such a unique feeling of encroaching dread all at once, but you refused to let it show as you nodded and turned your body on the bar stool to face him fully; waiting for him to say the first word.

His eye twitched ever so slightly.

“Privately.”

That made you swallow.

“Sure.” You slid off the bar stool, doing your best not to appear as reluctant as you felt.

“Lovely.~” He said, promptly turning on his heel and walking towards the staircase - expecting you to follow.

You glanced back towards Husker and Angel, each giving you looks of grim sympathy and confusion respectively before you took a deep breath and forced one foot in front of the other, following Alastor up the steps.

You thought he would talk along the way. Engage in some form of idle chit-chat where he’d be pulling the strings, or even hum along to the countless jazz tunes that he played in the halls over the Hotel’s sound system.

But no such music played and he remained silent. A few minutes into the walk you gathered enough courage to glance up at him and found his eyes locked straight forward, not even sparing you so much as a glance.

You averted your gaze, the hem of your sleeves suddenly the most fascinating thing you’d ever seen.

Eventually, he came to a stop, and he held out the end of his microphone to prevent you from going any further down the hallway.

“Here we are!” Rather than producing a key from his coat, a green flash emanated from the lock when he placed his hand on the handle and opened the door.

He all but leered at you as he gave a small bow that didn’t feel genuine in the slightest.

“After you.~”

Like the alleged gentleman he was, Alastor held the door open for you, eyes never leaving your form as you walked inside his suite.

The smell of dampness and soil hit you immediately.

Alastor’s suite wasn’t the worst thing you’d seen in Hell by a mile, however, it was still eerie beyond words. The skeletons that hung along the walls and mantlepiece of his fireplace became less complete and increasingly disorganized as they led further into the room - which itself gave way to a swamp-like environment halfway through. Undoubtedly a result of whatever hoodoo, voodoo bullshit he was capable of, and while it still wasn’t the worst you’d seen, it served its purpose thoroughly.

It creeped the shit out of you.

“Now, then.” Alastor clicked the door shut, his body half-facing yours as his hand still lingered on the doorknob. “I'm sure you have a good explanation for what you’ve been doing.~”

The immediate dryness in your throat was hard to ignore. You knew what he was talking about, and you knew that he knew, but you still attempted to buy some time as you tried to figure out what to do.

You cleared your throat. “I was just catching up with Angel and Husk-”

He chuckled, the sound like that of a radio shifting stations. “Don’t be coy.” His head turned towards you with a sickening, ossified crackle that bent his neck in a manner that made your stomach lurch. “You’ve been avoiding me, and I’d like to know why.”

Fuck.

“I haven’t.” Lying to Alastor was a mistake, but you still decided to risk it since it wasn’t entirely false. “There’s just been a lot on my mind recently.”

“Hmm.” Interest and something much worse flickered behind his eyes as he faced you fully with another crack of his vertebrae. “Such as~?”

You shook your head, looking away from him. “That’s private.”

There was a quick flash of red, and the tip of his microphone turned your face back towards him - the cool metal of the edge digging into the skin of your cheek. You had to bite back a grimace.

“Not when it concerns me.” His tone was sharp, a stark contrast to the faux politeness he was putting on before. He kept the tip of his microphone where it was to prevent your eyes from looking anywhere but him. “And trust me darling, when it comes to you, everything concerns me.”

His words twisted in your gut. “...I’m not sure what you mean.”

Alastor tutted, his smile widening once more. “Don’t be stupid, darling, it’s unbecoming of you.” The way he said it was patronizing, like he was scolding a child. “You know precisely what I mean, so I’m going to ask again, as much as I hate repeating myself.~”

Cool metal was replaced with the warmth of his hand as he tilted your head up and brought his face frighteningly close to yours.

“Why are you keeping yourself from me?”

It was an odd sensation. Being backed into a corner, both metaphorically and physically. A frightening one that all but yanked on your instincts to do whatever it meant to get the fuck out of there, but you knew that was the worst thing you could do.

Alastor was a predator, a creature designed to prey on those he deemed weaker, and turning your back on a predator would almost certainly trigger a series of events that would not bode well for you.

So you did the next worst thing.

You told him the truth.

“Because I can see you.” The words felt wrong to say out loud. “I can see you for what you are, I can feel the absolute malevolence that radiates off you in waves, and it’s suffocating.”

Saying any more was a horrendous idea, but you couldn’t help but add one last thing.

“And if I want any chance at leaving this god-forsaken place, I can’t be around you.”

The silence that stretched on afterward was deafening.

Mentally, you were bracing yourself. Alastor had killed people for far less, and you expected nothing different for saying something so daring to his face.

You could see it too, the anger that simmered underneath his gaze. You expected the red of his sclera to flash black and his antlers to extend with his body in a grotesque display before you were ripped to pieces while he laughed.

What you didn’t expect was for his eyes to narrow into slits and his expression shift into one that was far more genuine than you wanted it to be, and it was then you knew that being saved from this kind of evil was never going to happen.

“Oh, my dear, you don’t need to worry about something silly like that.” Alastor all but cooed.

“After all, what makes you think I’d ever let you leave?~”

© absolute-flaming-trash 2024. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

[soulless-angel25]

sometimes I think about how I wish I had more information on the characters I got cast in plays. Because I participated in a production of puffs and was multi cast (like most everyone else), I personally was playing 6 different roles.

One was Sally Anne and the other was Myrtle. Sally Anne has a scene where she and Wayne kiss, I didn't find this out until we were doing practice. Luckily they changed the scene a bit, but I was still uncomfortable. Sally Anne then drags him off stage, to presumably have sex. Which you know, was kinda uncomfortable, especially since the person playing wayne was/is 4 years older then me.

And then Myrtle, she only had one scene. Thank the gods but it was so eugh. Especially since the person who played Cedric would sometimes get really close to me and repeat one of my lines, which was: Myrtle and Cedric, cedric and Myrtle, Cedric and Myrtle.

And the person playing him was/is 2 years older then me. I mostly tried to ignore him whenever he did that.

But I usually felt somewhat uncomfortable around him when he did that and was mostly never alone with him backstage. Typically I had 1 or 2 people with me who I felt safe around. So that was a plus.

[fir3ylolol]

smile! you're on camera

pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader

summary: Staying at Johnny's house is really nice, except...something feels a little off. You find out the hard way when you decide to entertain yourself on the couch.

tw: vaginal sex, vaginal penetration, oral sex, masturbation, accidental voyeurism, making out, face fucking, sex tape, dom/sub, switch!reader, switch!johnny cage, dom!reader, sub!johnny cage, dom!johnny cage, sub!reader, sex in a theater, i physically cant write men who dont whine, he needs pussy!, afab!reader, he wants you so bad omg, smut, shameless smut, porn with light plot

a/n: hehehehehehe...this is inspired by the voice clip in the invasion mode of mk1 where he says he has cameras everywhere. ive been rly inspired lately, but im gna open up requests on here soon, so keep an eye outtt

word count: 2.63 k

Ao3

Something was really off about Cage’s house. After coming back from the tournament and training, you weren’t ready to get back to normal life. And Johnny had offered you a starring role in the movie he was planning to make about Outworld. You accepted quickly, after making sure you wouldn’t have to get naked or be a horrible person or anything like that. But rent is rough, and Johnny is so generous as to let you stay at his place.

His casual, gigantic mansion-y place.

But it was nice. You had your own space, a full fridge, and could still ignore things like work for a bit longer. Plus, Johnny was a surprisingly great host, hosting movie nights in his private theater. Everything was great, except…

You always felt like someone was watching you. As long as you weren’t in your room or the bathroom, it felt like there were eyes on you. Getting a drink of water? It’s there. Sitting on the couch? Being watched. Just wandering into a room? Oh yeah, you for sure feel it. But you brush it off and don’t bother to say anything to Johnny. You figure it’s just dumb paranoia.

After about 2 weeks without any work from Johnny, you’re getting bored. He’s never home, he has work to do and a movie to plan. So you sit around the mansion all day, waiting. Usually, you read, watch stuff, or even just take laps around the house for exercise. But today, you’re just scrolling through social media. Even that is boring to you today. You decide that, hey, you can think of a good way to pass the time. For a quick moment, you forget about feeling watched. Your fingers dip below your waistband, shivering at your touch. It’s been a long time, you’ve been training and then living in someone else’s house. When would you have the chance?

Slowly, you begin to tease yourself, fingers circling your clit. It’s quite embarrassing how much it affects you, but you’ve lost your ability to feel shame. You lose yourself in your actions, whimpers and moans echoing through the empty house. Unable to stop yourself, you finish with an almost violent snap, panting harshly. Pulling your hand out, you finally feel embarrassed, with how fast you were, and how hard you came. Shakily, you stand up and walk towards the bathroom to wash your hands.

You've forgotten what you did by the time Johnny gets home that evening. Smiling as he walks in, a grocery bag in one hand. “Here comes Mr. Celebrity to pass out treats to us poor folk,” you throw your hands out in a joking manner. But there’s a weird look in his eyes, not matching his characteristic smile. “It’s movie night, I had to make sure we had enough snacks,” he walks towards the kitchen, you shortly behind. “Oh yeah! What’s the movie tonight?” You lean against the counter, searching through the bag.

“The Thing. We haven’t done any horror movies yet.” He grabs a glass of water, drinking deeply. But that look is still there. It almost scares you away at how sharp it is. “Ah, ok. Well…I guess I’ll see you then.” You back out of the room, almost running when you’re out of his sight. Catching your breath in your room, confusion floods your mind. Did you do something wrong? Is he tired of having you here? All you can do is wait and wonder until tonight.

And tonight comes much too fast. You find yourself stumbling into the theater room, meeting Johnny’s eyes as you walk in. But he seems much happier. Maybe he was just tired after work. As you get settled, a bag of snacks next to your leg. As Johnny starts the movie and turns the lights down, you start to get nervous. What if he’s mad at you? He is pretty rich, if he wants you dead, it wouldn’t take long.

But Johnny sits next to you, settling down and looking towards you. You try not to look at him, fearing that you might meet a cold gaze. Unable to stop yourself though, your eyes meet his. The weird look is still there, no longer hidden under sunglasses and smiles. Ever the considerate movie-watcher, he leans in to whisper in your ear. “So, did you have a good day? It must get lonely here.” Trying to stay calm, you whisper back, “It was ok, I can’t complain. Was your day ok?”

“Yeah, more progress made on my movie. Studios are eating it up. But…” He pauses, looking at the screen shortly before looking back to you. “I did see a very interesting movie on break.” Turning fully, you look at him confusedly. What in the hell was he talking about? “Oh yeah? What was it?”

“Well, you know, I do have cameras set up like everywhere, right?”

Oh shit.

Your entire face drops, frozen in shock. You finally remember the fun you had earlier on the couch. The watched feeling finally makes sense. “O-oh…” You stumble over yourself trying to think of excuses. This is humiliating. But Johnny doesn’t falter like you. He pauses the movie, reaching his hand out and taking yours to pull your focus back to him.

“You put on quite a show for me, you know?” You finally recognize the look in his eyes. It’s intense curiosity and...lust? “Only wish I knew what you were thinking about. Care to enlighten me?” He leans slightly closer, hot breath fanning over you. Swallowing hard, you try to avoid his intense stare. “I-I wasn’t thinking. I was just…bored?” He laughs slightly, holding your other hand. “Really? I was sorta hoping you were thinking of me, but that’s a little selfish, huh?”

“H-huh? What? Do…do you think of me like that?” You fluster further at his words. “Maybe…does that bother you?” He falters slightly, realizing that he might be making you uncomfortable. But you can't stop yourself from blurting out, “No! It doesn't bother me. I-” Cutting you off, Johnny leans in closer, lips an inch apart. “Then what's the problem?” You swallow hard, eyes rapidly moving back and forth from his eyes to his mouth, and finally answer.

“I just don't know what to do when fantasy becomes reality.”

Luckily for you, Johnny knows.

He closes the distance between you two, kissing you like your life depended on it. You wrap your hands behind his neck and lean back, pulling him impossibly closer. Your tongues dance against each other, lips crashing. Suddenly, you get a surge of confidence, one that defies your previous apprehension. One of your hands slips down his chest slowly, inching along until you reach his growing bulge. He pulls back slightly, panting and staring directly into your eyes. “H-hey now, you’re not playing fair,” he manages to get out, slightly whining at your touch. 

“You started it, watching me like that,” you whisper in his ear, fingers slowly rubbing along his waistband. He gasps lightly, head turning away from you. “You liked it, right? Did you touch yourself watching it?” Your fingers move further past his waist, inching towards his cock. “C’mon, you can tell me,” your voice almost sing-songy and teasing. He manages to stutter out a shaky “y-yeah” as you continue down. But you suddenly stop, much to his disappointment.

Instead, you move to kneel in between his legs, looking up at him with sultry eyes. He looks slightly confused until you undo his pants button. Biting his lip, he watches you with intense, pleading eyes. You lean up, taking the zipper of his fly in your mouth and undoing it. He looks like he could honestly cum right now, but you won't let him. As you pull his pants and boxers down his thighs, his cock springs up, the tip angry and weeping. He blushes at the sight of himself like this and you, looking up at him with his hard dick right in front of you.

You slowly wrap your hand around him, stroking him a few times. You just want to watch him squirm and squirm he does. He is whining, head turning back and forth, with one hand on his thigh and the other over his mouth. You kiss the underside, looking up at him through your lashes. With a muffled moan, he looks away again, face scrunching up in concentration and pleasure. Slowly licking at the tip, watching as he continues unraveling, you finally take him in your mouth. You fit as much as you can at first, reveling in the loud gasp you earn from him. You continue a relentless pace, gently massaging his balls as well. 

This pleasure is intense for Johnny, so much so that he’s starting to tear up, eyes welling up as he holds back as many sounds as he can. But that only lasts so long as you lift your head off him, taking a deep breath and rasping out, “Do you wanna come, baby? Huh? Then come on, fuck my face like a good boy.” 

You go further down this time, causing him to jump at the feeling. Scurried hands grab at your head as he's bent forward, bucking at a frenzied pace. Loud, slutty moans roll from his lips as he loses himself in the feeling. And as you kneel there, trying to stay there for as long as possible, you feel yourself growing wetter. You did this to him, got him so riled up that he could barely control himself. Amongst his hurried moves, you manage to push past your gag reflex and fully take his entire cock down your throat. A loud, long breathy moan is all Johnny can get out as he almost immediately cums at the feeling. Focusing on holding your breath until you can no longer feel him pulsing in your throat, you savor his sounds, his whines, whimpers, moans.

As you move up, taking a deep breath, you admire him in the lowlights. His face flushed and sweaty, eyes rolled back in his head, usually perfect hair messed up. Beautiful. But he only stays like that for so long, because you move up to kiss him. As if his body is reacting without him thinking, he wraps one hand behind your back and uses one to tangle in your hair. After a short kiss, he pulls away. You manage to half-whisper “That was quite a show you put on,” chuckling afterward.

Johnny lazily motions for you to sit next to him, and you oblige. But before you’re even fully down, he's on you, kissing and pulling you closer. Now it's his turn to tease, fingers traveling under your shirt to play with your nipples. You let out light gasps at the feeling, as Johnny starts to bite and suck at your neck.

Mumbling against your skin, you can hear him say, “I'll give you a show.” He manages to pull your shirt off before you even realize what's happening, his eyes still desperate and wanting. He has no grace or subtlety as he pulls your pants and underwear off, he doesn't want to wait any longer than he has to. Shrugging his shirt and pants fully off, he stares at you intensely. He moves a finger to swipe across your wetness, knees buckling slightly as he feels you. He leans in against your chest, beginning to beg. “Please, please, I wanna be inside you, love. I wanna give you a real show, show how good I can be. Please?” God, he's kind of pathetic like this. It's hot.

With a quick nod, he springs up. He wastes no time as he practically lifts you and turns you around. Now, with your hands grasping the back of your seat and ass in the air, Johnny leans over you and presses against your back. Kissing between your shoulder blades, he slowly moves his hips to yours, cock gently rubbing against your wet pussy. Unable to control himself, his hips buck at the sensation, earning a groan from both of you. Face still against your back, you feel him lightly bite you, trying to ground himself. 

Finally, he manages to calm himself, standing up and taking a deep breath. After a pause, he lines himself up and pushes in slowly. With a long whine, he manages to bury himself inside you, pausing to adjust. With a strained voice, he quietly says, “Oh god, you feel so good, squeezing against my cock like that. I’m already sensitive, you know.” After a short pause, he starts to move, mesmerized by the way your ass bounces against him. “Shit, I should’ve fucked you earlier. I’ve been missing out,” he manages to get out as he speeds up, reveling in the way you mewl under him.

He’s moving at a breakneck pace now, gripping your hips desperately, and sputtering out praise. Without slowing, his hands shoot out, wrapping around your neck and grabbing your jaw. He’s using your head as leverage, but he manages to fuck you even deeper. He gently turns your head to the back corner of the theater, lightly slapping your cheek to get your attention. “See right there? That’s where the camera is. Go ahead, put on a show, baby.” Despite his confident words, his voice is higher than normal and breathy. His words shoot straight to your dripping pussy, clenching even tighter around him. His hips buck in as he laughs slightly. “You like that? You like being my own personal pornstar? Then come on, let me see it. Get louder, these mics only pick up so much. Don’t hold back, yeah?” 

You decide that he’s getting a little too cocky, and decide to shut him up a bit. Moaning out obscenities, you begin to bounce back against him. His hands shoot back to your hips, using you to stabilize himself. Gone are his confident words, replaced with the most gorgeous whimpers you’ve ever heard. His head dips lower, resting once again against your upper back. You can hear his quiet whispers of “Oh fuck” repeated over and over again like a prayer.

With scrambling fingers that dart under you, he starts to play with your clit, bouncing at the same rhythm of his thrusts. “What fun is it if I’m the only one cumming? Besides…” he lets out a breathy laugh, “I studied the game tape.” He begins moving in circles, and suddenly it’s like you’re fucking him for the 50th time. He knows exactly where and what feels good, what directions, and how much pressure to use. But you have no time to wonder how many times he watched you before his hips started snapping in shaky thrusts. You feel yourself getting closer and closer, and with the energy you have left, you decide to put on a major finale. Head tipped back, you begin pleading with him, crying out, “Please come for me, please, please. You’ve done such a good job, I need it, I need you, please please please…” Unable to hold back, he cums with a harsh final thrust. But even in the throws pleasure, he manages to continue to play with your clit. You cum shortly after him, he whines at the feeling of you spasming around his extremely sensitive cock. He slowly pulls out, taking a long second to admire the sight of you bent over and dripping arousal.

He guides you into the chair, helping you sit down and catch your breath. He sits next to you, snuggling into your side and planting his face against your neck. He breathes deep, inhaling your scent and kissing lightly against your sensitive skin. He manages to mumble into your neck, looking up with sweet, half-lidded eyes, “So...there’s about 56 cameras in the house. You mind sticking around for an extra few weeks?”

[chronicbeans]

Yandere Platonic Alastor x Victim Reader

You got killed by him when you both were alive, because you accidentally ended up witnessing him burying a body. Unknowingly, because neither of you recognized each other in Hell, you both became friends... Now the memories are returning.

TW: Death, Murder, Cannibalism (again, this is Alastor), Fear and Anxiety, Invasion of Privacy/Personal Space, Stalking, Manipulation, Yandere Behavior (Upped to more than usual, for Alastor)

• You remember how you died relatively well. Back in the 1920s, you decided to go on a nighttime walk in the woods... well, more like heavily wooded swamps of New Orleans, only to stumble across a man burying a body in the ground. You panicked, which alerted him, and you got shot. That's the gist of it. You don't know who did it, you don't know why he killed that person he was burying, but you have always vowed revenge on the person who did it.

• However, you decided to try to redeem yourself, still. You entered the Hazbin Hotel, being led in by an excited Charlie, only to then be met with Alastor. You recognized his voice as one you heard on a radio show, when you were alive... and when you asked, he confirmed your suspicions that it was him who was the host! You were surprised, and although you never met him in life, you were comforted by at least having someone from your time period here.

• And as such, you mostly stuck by him. Although you wouldn't call him a friend. It was more like he was a familiar presence for you. Sure, he was the Radio Demon, but he hadn't shown any hostility towards you. So, in your opinion, there was no need for concern or fear. He never seems to mind, either. The most he does is stare at you or ask why you spend so much time with him, and you always be truthful.

• In truth, although he doesn't want to admit it, he enjoys your company. Alastor views you as a sort of lost soul who needs guidance... and by that, it means he wants to take your soul. You seem a bit naive to his true nature, so you'd be relatively easy to trick, yeah? You may not be strong or a good tool to use, but keeping you on a leash would be nice, in his opinion. It's not everyday he finds someone from not only his time period, but his area! You're like a little rare gem, who brings him nostalgia.

• He's proven wrong, however, as you deny his offer for a deal. So, he was proven wrong. You're smart enough to deny his offer for a deal... Which, although he is irritated, he has to applaud you for. You're smart, and he loves smart people! It beats the idiotic brawn he often interprets many of the inhabitants of Hell to be run by, which he despises. So, although he never gets to own your lovely soul, he earns more respect for you as a person rather than just a nostalgic memory from the past. Seeing people less as people, such as viewing them as tools or objects for his own enjoyment, is a problem he has... One that you've gotten past due to being a bit more intelligent than some of the other sinners, and gained his respect as a person.

• The more time you spend together, the more you two become friends... Sure, it takes a long time, but it eventually happens. You find him to have his own sort of charm underneath the eerie exterior, and he sees you as someone at the hotel who really understands him and where he comes from. Sure, Mimzy is also someone who he sees similarly since they were friends in life, but she is rarely at the Hazbin Hotel, if ever. You're a guest of the establishment, though, so he can hang around with you more often.

• Though... you are beginning to have... memories coming back. Alastor sounds a bit like the man who killed you, so you have been thinking about your killer. It's been becoming distressing, because you are worried about meeting him in Hell. Sure, you want revenge, but you are not a very strong demon. There's about a 50/50 chance he might be stronger than you. It's gotten to the point where you decide to confide in Charlie about it. She decides that, the next day, she'd have everyone do art therapy with the task of drawing their greatest stressor. Of course, with your permission, of course...

• So, you alongside the other residents start the next day making art while eating breakfast. You all are not exactly sure who is going to be participating in the sharing process Charlie wants to try out, but you know you sure as Hell won't. You only plan to share it with Charlie... and maybe Alastor. You're not sure, yet.

• You doodle what you remember your killer looking like, the body he was burying, alongside the area you died in. Then, once you're done, you bring it over to Charlie. She seems a little disheartened, as if upset that the situation still impacts you to this day, but supportive. Then, she suggests that you could show it to Alastor. Maybe he will recognize him? And, if anybody could protect you if you do meet your killer in Hell, it'd be him. To be honest, you didn't even think of the fact that Alastor might recognize him!

• Now excitedly, you go to find Alastor. You notice that he also seems to be participating in the workshop. It is probably the first time you've seen him participate in one, but you always suspected he'd join in on one that involves drawing, since he had mentioned enjoying doodling things from time to time. You don't peek at it, considering the challenge is to draw what stresses you, but from the brief glimpse you get you see a bunch of chains.

• "Alastor! Hi! Charlie recommended I show you my drawing, in case you can help me... would you be willing to take a look?" He looks over to you, grinning widely. His first few thoughts are about how he can use whatever problem you have to try, once again, to sucker a deal from you. So, he nods his head rather quickly. "Of course, dear! Anything for a friend."

• You show him your picture, explaining that it's the man who killed you... only for his face to suddenly go pale. He's grinning, like always, but you can tell something is wrong. "Alastor? You okay?" For a few moments, he's quiet, before he snaps out of it. "Ah, yes, dear! I'm fine! The man is um... familiar to me. I just need to try to remember who he is... I'll let you know if I remember."

• He may sound calm, but inside, he's panicking. It's him. It's him. He killed you. He remembers who you were, too, considering the scenery. That, and you decided to keep your name. You were the one victim he didn't plan to kill. The only one that he felt a little remorse for, since you didn't fit the criteria of his usual victims. He killed based off of his weird morals, so killing someone who he usually wouldn't have hit him a bit. So much so, even in Hell, his mind wandered to you from time to time... Now, you're here, and you don't recognize him.

• By a little remorse, he means much more than he'd like to admit. He may be the cruel, sadistic Radio Demon, but back when he was human he still had a bit more care for others. That, and in Hell, it's a lot easier to find people who fit his murderous criteria he had when he was alive. So, although he doesn't go by that code as much in Hell, he still believes you didn't deserve it. You just were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he couldn't let a witness live.

• Meanwhile, you're completely oblivious to his internal panic. All you're noticing is that, as the days go by, he's keeping a closer and closer eye on you. While you would usually go and seek him out, now, you don't need to! It's his turn to do the seeking! Though, it is odd how he seems to know where you are all the time... That, and he's been knocking on your door the second after you wake up, almost like he's some sort of psychic, or something!

• Now, while Alastor is usually more obsessive and possessive when it comes to relationships, to the point where one may say he's a yandere by default... When Alastor actually is a yandere? You're screwed. Those behaviors are upped to the max. There's no escaping him.

• He's spying on you, yes. He normally would. Now, though, it's almost constantly. From your room, to the store, to the park, to anywhere else you go. He's a lot more obvious about it, too. He'd normally let you have other friends, but in this case, you're not allowed. Well, you are, but he will actively try to get you to not trust them. What if they're your killer? The only exception would be the others at the Hazbin Hotel, since he wants you to stay there. If you're too scared, you might leave, and it'd make it harder to find you to stalk you.

• He's also going to try to make deals with you much more often, now. Little ones at first, though, that don't involve your soul. If he gets you this, you have to get him that. If he does this, you need to do that. Small things, to slowly build you up to the big deal he plans to have you agree to. Like a frog in boiling water. You throw it into hot water it'll jump out, but if you slowly turn up the heat, it'll stay put until the end. You probably don't even notice the deals increasing in intensity.

• And so, when he approaches you with a deal one day, you aren't surprised. However, he knows this one is too good to pass up! Or, at least, it sounds too good until you agree. "Dear, I've figured out who your killer is! Though, I want to make a deal. I'll tell you who it is and make sure you're safe, and in return, you give me your soul. Now, before you disagree, think about it. If I have your soul, I can protect you much easier, as I'll be more connected to you. That, and they can't steal it from you and hurt you more than if they did have it. So, is it a deal?" He's made his points... and you're now so used to intense deals, that you agree to it, despite your unease. Giving up your soul is a big thing, but he's your friend, hasn't hurt you, and from what it sounds like... he wouldn't hurt you once he has your soul. It's to protect you, yeah?

• Once you do, shaking his hand to seal the deal, he immediately lets you in on his secret. His grip moves from your hand to your wrist, his grin wide as he speaks calmly. "Do not panic, dear. I did it. I killed you, because you saw something you shouldn't have." And with that, all his true colors are revealed. He admits to everything, from the stalking, to the obsessions, and to his true reason for wanting your soul: to keep you close.

• You, for one, are terrified. Your worst fear is realized. Your killer is stronger than you - a literal overlord- and now owns your soul. Your leash is much tighter and shorter than Husk's, too. You're constantly being dragged around by him. He shows you off, as if you are some sort of trophy. He probably brings you everywhere he goes, even to Cannibal Town and meetings, so you aren't out of his sight.

• If you try to get away from him, he will literally drag you back. Then, he's going to be holding onto your shoulder tightly for the next few hours. It's his passive aggressive way of saying "I'm not afraid to hurt you", without actually saying anything... As if you getting dragged by a chain wrapped around your throat wasn't enough to prove it.

• You are, in your own way, treated a bit better than Husk. That is, as long as you actually go along with his insanity. If you act good, he'll treat you to food- no, not the raw meat and demon flesh he eats. Foods that you actually like. He'll make sure you have the best room in the hotel. He'll even, begrudgingly, let you have a television. If you aren't so nice, though, he'll basically take away everything. The food you eat will be what he eats, you're probably going to be in his room so he can keep an eye on you, and there will be no technology allowed other than radio and things that came before it. The most you'll get is to be allowed to sleep in his bed, while he sleeps on one of the chairs in his room (that is, if he doesn't stay up all night to watch you).

• Charlie probably isn't aware of any of this. The most she might notice is that you two are hanging out more often, and that Alastor was your killer. However, she truly believes he can be redeemed, especially since your murder wasn't something he wanted. So, she won't question it, and believes a lot of the things Alastor says to explain your odd behavior. "They're a bit nervous, still, but we're working it all out." "They've been staying in my room because the prefer it there." "They got rid of their phone because they realized they were getting a bit addicted to social media." Whenever you try to say anything, though, you feel a slight tug on your chain, which keeps you quiet about it. Stupid deal...

• You aren't going anywhere. He's doing all of this with the goal of making it all up for you, in his own twisted way. Especially since he's now learned that you are the exact opposite of the type of person he would kill. If you act good, you'll see! He'll give you mostly everything you want. He'll shower you in apologies for your death, give you gifts, and maybe let you have some alone time... He just gets a little more than frustrated when you try to leave... Please, he's been waiting for this opportunity for years, so just let him apologize for killing you... Even if his apology lasts for all of eternity.

[mamayan]

★Yobai☆

Mitsuri Kanroji x Fem! Reader x Obanai Iguro

Synopsis: Someone put a strange idea in your girlfriend’s mind, and she’s roped you into a night of passion to seduce the Snake Hashira for his birthday.

Blame @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi this is becoming a thing lol I may just need to do an entire series… Original idea and inspiration for yobai from @rottmntrulesall ♥️

Read Kyojuro here, and Sanemi here, for their yobai nights!

tw: MFF • Fem! Reader • Sub! Reader • 3some • Vaginal Sex • Praise/Overstimulation • Soft Dom! Mitsuri • Switch! Obanai • Mitsuri calls you plum •

When your lover Mitsuri told you about her idea for celebrating Obanai’s birthday, you hadn’t imagined it to look like this.

Where she even got such an idea was lost to you, as you watched the beautiful pink haired girl bounced on her heels in excitement. You looked around the neat space, not a single object out of place. The bed made, clothes hung or folded, and there were no other personal items to be seen except for a poorly attempted embroidered snake set against a dresser. Mitsuri had taught you the basics and encouraged you to make something of your own. You’d made that nearly a year ago, for his birthday last year. It felt wrong and invasive to be staring at his things like this.

“Mitsuri… are you sure this is—,” she interrupted your soft murmur, her excitement just too high as it draws nearer for Obanai’s return from the bath. You tried not to think too hard about the broken lock to his estate’s front doors, or the fact that you’d been dragged along into a crime no less, breaking and entering. Obanai being a stickler for rules, most likely won’t take to this very well but… You side eye Mitsuri, her cheeks flushed and smile bright in place. She didn’t look nervous at all, and that realization struck you with a sense of instability. Mitsuri was always bold, gentle and empathetic too, but she was confident about everything but herself it seemed. You selfishly liked to think your love aided in her self esteem though, as her love did for you.

You wanted to think it would be the same for Obanai. You knew he returned Mitsuri’s affections, obediently following her and eager for her praise and attention, but your relationship wasn’t the least bit similar. You weren’t sure if it was a good or bad thing.

“Oh! I should go see if he has any candles, that’s romantic isn’t it? If he has enough, I can make a heart with them!” Her declaration and grin, as if the idea was so ingenious she couldn’t fathom why she hadn’t thought of it earlier, made you pause before you could object.

“M—,” she was gone. You were alone in Obanai’s room now, and the man himself was due any moment for… whatever this was exactly. To seduce him? Mitsuri had certainly painted a romantic and erotic image in your mind when she’d had two fingers in your pussy, breathing salacious images for you to conjure as you drew nearer and nearer to your orgasm. You’d been too engrossed to think clearly, agreeing of course to the promise of pleasure and inclusion of the man you adored.

You were about to give way to your own cowardice and make a run for it when the shoji slid open.

You had to duck to avoid his blade, panic and adrenaline flooding your system at the unexpected but also anticipated fight which would arise from entering unannounced to a sword master’s home. It only took Obanai a moment to realize you weren’t some sort of burglar or demon awaiting him. His hair was still slightly damp, his bandages removed and face on full display as he stood before you in a plain yukata with his sword pointed at you. Kaburamaru peaking out from around his neck, tongue flicking out as if in greeting.

“(Y/N)…?” His confusion is quickly replaced with irritation.

“I could’ve killed you, what are you doing here? At this time of night? Are you an idiot?” His voice and tone are icy, glaring heterochromic eyes narrowed on you. His sword is quickly sheathed as he stomps towards you, and it’s all you can do to stutter out “w-wait!” before he can haul you out of his estate. Although it’s certainly embarrassing to you, and you’re more than a little anxious and self conscious, you knew it would do more damage to not speak up with honesty.

His grip on your upper arm isn’t painful, but he’s firm in his hold that you aren’t able to squirm free. He tries to ignore the way you being in his room has him heating up, intent on dragging you home to your own bed to sleep properly. You were the weaker of the two, between him and Mitsuri, therefore Obanai was more cautious in your safety. “You should know better,” his hand raised, finger pointed and almost touching your skin as you flinch back reflexively. You knew realistically this reprimand is exceedingly light for Obanai, as you’ve seen his true wrath unleashed for stupidity on lower ranked slayers in the corps. It didn’t stop your eyes from watering a little, your lip from wobbling, or Obanai from nearly stumbling away from you.

“I just wanted to tell you happy birthday…” his left eye twitched at your words. Kaburamaru moving down his arms and sliding to the floor, slithering away from the strange quarrel going on.

“You could’ve easily said it in the morning, don’t cry—,” his hiss of guilt and annoyance not the least bit gentle. “It’s the middle of the night idiot! You shouldn’t—,”

“Shouldn’t what?” Mitsuri’s appearance had the Snake Hashira nearly turning to stone.

“Mitsuri too…?” He felt his nerves lighting up. As they always did in her presence. It wasn’t the same comforting warmth which you gave him, the kind that relaxed and soothed. Mitsuri was crackling and commanding.

“I didn’t find any candles, but we can make it romantic with just us anyway.” She grinned, unconcerned about her property damage which Obanai would surely find later. She pressed both Obanai and you back, closing the shoji behind her as she entered the room fully. You noted the room seemed smaller like this.

“Mitsuri, you shouldn’t be here either, I’m aware you both now just want to say congratulations, and thank you, but—,”

“We didn’t come here to say happy birthday silly, we came here to show it, right plum?” Your nickname caught your attention as reality sank back in. Numbly you nodded, not looking up as you studied the wood polish beneath your feet. “Which means come here~” she cooed. You snapped to attention, heart rate skyrocketing as you nervously shuffled closer to her. Her jade eyes soft and promising as you looked into them.

Obanai stayed silent, watching in an odd sort of fascination the dynamic you both shared. He was envious of both of you ironically. The dominance Mitsuri held over you, and the submission you gave Mitsuri. He held his tongue though, unsure what he was supposed to do now. Though he trusted and loved you both dearly, he still struggled to say it and even show it physically.

Mitsuri led the room.

“You want to show Obanai how grateful you are for him being born, so why don’t you get on your knees plum, let us both see your pretty mouth.” You obeyed, shakily dropping to your knees and opening your mouth like Mitsuri loves. Obanai would never be able to remove the erotic sight from his mind again.

“She’s offering her mouth for you to fuck Obanai, are you going to deny her and make her sad?” He’s dazed and startled by Mitsuri’s change in tone, her beautiful eyes sharper and trained on him. Her hand is placed gently on your head, and you leave your own in your lap as you wait with an unsure mind.

“She’s nervous because you’re waiting…” you hear her murmur, but your eyes are trained on the sharp lines of his scars. When his eyes connect with yours, something dark passes through them, but he wordlessly begins untying his belt. His lips are set in a frown, but his cheeks are warm and flushed.

“Does she even deserve my cock though?” You nearly break and close your mouth, as Obanai grips his hard aching cock and positions it just before your lips. Not touching though. “She hasn’t asked for it at all.”

Your eyes widen. Mitsuri giggles.

“P-please, Obanai, I want you to fuck my mouth,” it felt as humiliating as always, just as flustered as when Mitsuri makes you beg.

He’d never admit it drove him wild, having you like this. Like he’d awoken to some sort of fever dream and conjured you up before him. Sitting with your mouth open, begging for his cock. This sort of thing only happened in novels he believed.

He grunts, sneering down at you and making the scars on his face more menacing. They seemed to enhance his features with his mood. “You asked,” he murmured, before sliding the tip of his cock in your mouth. He still smells a bit like soap, his taste neutral as he moans, muttering something beneath his breath before his lips are stolen aggressively by Mitsuri. He doesn’t mean to shove himself deeper in your mouth, but you relax and let his cock brush back and forth inside your mouth, getting a little deeper as time goes on.

A hand is on the back of your head, keeping if you from pulling away. The soft but firm touch familiar and letting you know it’s Mitsuri as Obanai’s cock dips a bit too deep and gags you. You can’t pull away despite choking, tears pricking your eyes even as your core throbs painfully. You want him inside of you, desperately, but this isn’t you leading so you stay where you are and let him continue ravishing your mouth.

“Mm, Obanai, aren’t you just adorable? Well? Does her wet little mouth feel good? Do you want her to make your pretty cock cum?” You shiver at her arousing choice of verbiage, her sly tone teasing as Obanai’s hips jerk and he groans low in his throat.

“Fuck, yes, Mitsuri, I want to fill her mouth.” His voice sounds strained as he works his cock at odd depths and varying speeds in your mouth, poking into your cheek as he watches the skin protrude before sinking back into your throat.

“Good boy, go ahead, today is your treat. Go on and cum for us Obanai.” He loses it, his balls drawing tight as he moans and releases into your mouth and down your throat messily.

You’re made to take it, struggling to breathe through your nose as he rocks his hips and the fine curls of his pubic hair kiss your nose. He finally pulls out, Mitsuri’s hand now running through your hair soothingly. “So good for us plum.” Your blurry vision flicks up to her figure, her words encouraging you as you lean against her leg offered in support.

“She did such a good job… doesn’t she deserve a reward Obanai?” You blink the tears away, a few escaping down your cheek as Obanai stares at the pathetic and arousing sight you make. Your clothes still intact but your face being covered in his cum and your own salvia doesn’t help your decency. He can’t help the warmth spreading through him again, as he drops the rest of his clothing and moves to grab you up.

You’re swung lightly onto the bed.

“She’s an idiot that deserves more punishment than this but…” he’s close, pressing you flat against the futon and nearly kissing you. “I guess I’ll be nice this time. Say thank you.” He smirks when you do, the sight so confident it fills your heart as you look at him. There had been time he’d rather lose a limb than reveal his face, and while it’d taken longer to show you himself, and even longer to feel completely comfortable, it feels worth it now. His eyes daring but soft, because even as he calls you foolish he’s equally supporting and helping you despite it.

Your clothing is almost torn as he removes it from you, hissing complaints when he snags a knot or forgets there is a button. You aren’t even given time to feel self conscious, only aware in the back of your mind this is the most intimate you’ve ever been with him.

“I love you.” It’s said so softly he nearly doesn’t hear it clearly.

He stills, and Mitsuri, who’d crawled up beside your head to sit and watch, let her eyes flick up to your face. You lay so sweetly beneath them both, allowing them full control of your body because you trust and love them. Mitsuri is silent, only internally squealing at the cute way you decided to confess, only reaching to thread her fingers with your own as show of support while Obanai processes your words.

“You…” he’s frowning, brows pulled together and it the sight yanks at a ball of anxiety bundled in the pit of your stomach. “Do you even understand—,” he goes to lay into you, but you already know where he wants to go.

“I love you Obanai!” Half naked and huffing indignantly, you glare at him with all the force of a rabbit. Mitsuri is forced to turn her head away to conceal the laugh which threatened to break free. Unlike her though, Obanai is happy to glare back and even manhandle you. His hand grips your jaw, smushing your cheeks as he points down at you.

“You don’t get to confess first, I do,” he’s immature at the oddest times, but you’re helpless against him because he’s red like an apple and breathing heavily.

“There’s no rule that says—hah!” He smashes his lips against yours, and you can’t help but compare his kiss to Mitsuri. Where she’s warm he’s cool, his body temperature actually lower than your own by a little, but his mouth is warm inside as he forces your lips open to slip his tongue inside.

When he pulls back, a string of saliva connects you both for a moment before breaking.

“Fuck, you… You’re mine, do you hear me?” His confession isn’t as loving or sweet as yours, but his claim is encompassing. His forehead knocks against your own, and for a brief second, you see the conflict and doubt war in his dual colored eyes.

He’s nervous and scared.

It seemed to ironically dissolve your own fear. Your arms moving, Mitsuri allowing your hand freedom, to wrap around Obanai’s neck and kiss him, deeply, as if your lips could proclaim your love better than your voice. It could. It was less about dominance and more about warming one another up, as you felt Mitsuri’s fingers softly massaging your scalp as you kissed him. Obanai letting you lead for a moment as you moaned, his hands caressing your body and back to working on removing your clothes.

Mitsuri helped, happy to get you naked like him, and pleased when his eyes locked with her.

“You too…” he looked to the side, “please…”

“Ufufu, of course, I can’t let you two have fun alone tonight at least. We need at least three for a birthday party.” Her movements were quick and efficient, stripping herself and revealing each creamy inch of skin and captivating two sets of eyes. She doesn’t hesitate to let her hair free of her braids, proudly crawling back onto the futon to lean over you, kissing you with all the familiar sweetness she encompasses.

“Pretty plum, how do you feel?” She’s whispering, but your heart soars as she checks in on you, looking for any signs of distress. You were nervous, but as she touches you, caressing you with familiar hands, Obanai watches. How could he not? He wants to both step away and let you both continue all night and squeeze himself between.

It’s his birthday today though. Clearly he wasn’t going to be on the sidelines.

“Come here,” Mitsuri encourages, bringing him in for a similar kiss, and grabbing his hand to trail up her body. You watch hungrily, as Mitsuri shivers and smiles while Obanai palms her heavy chest. Mitsuri showing him exactly what she likes as she kisses his face and up to his ear, whispering something likely wicked as he moans and drops his head.

Her hand wrapped around his cock, moving her hand over the pretty swollen tip, reddened and leaking as she pumps it. “Mitsuri,” he gasps, back hunching a bit as she coos. “Obanai is so pretty too, isn’t he plum? He still needs to reward you~” he hissed as she jerks him a bit tighter, the pain and pleasure waring now.

“So pretty,” you affirmed, transfixed by the image of Obanai looking so overwhelmed. It’s usually you in that position. It felt oddly nice to see it in reverse. His eyes snap to you, and it’s like the image from a moment ago was a lie as he smiles wickedly, his hand moving to cup your pussy as you jolt in surprise.

“I do need to reward her, don’t I plum?” The condescending tone he adopts when using the nickname Mitsuri gave you is devious. You don’t hate it though, not as Mitsuri releases him in favor of tormenting you now.

He drops to his chest, yanking your legs apart as Mitsuri leans over you to capture a nipple in her mouth.

“W-wait—!” Your head falls as your back arches, a warm wet tongue licking straight up your pussy as another swirls around your nipple and sucks.

You’re helpless to the pleasure and attention, drowning even. Obanai isn’t experienced, but he’s eager and observant to every twitch and moan you release. He can’t help it, licking up your dripping arousal and lavishing your clit with his tongue, moaning at your taste and his painfully hard cock. He hums in appreciation as you gasp, one finger now working you open as he licks and swirls around your hardened clit. “Obanai~” his name on your lips is a gift in itself, but he’d never tell you. Instead he slips another finger in, eyeing you from below as he sucks on your clit and works your tight cunt open with firm consistent stokes inside of you.

“Mm, look at you plum, are you feeling good?” You nod weakly, moaning as Mitsuri sucks a few marks onto your skin.

“Please, Mitsu, you too,” you jolted in pleasure as Obanai blows cool air on your pussy. Mitsuri smiles, giving you a quick kiss before shifting and swinging a leg over your face.

Obanai can only moan as he watches Mitsuri settle her own dripping cunt over your face, your lips parting to lick at her.

He’s nothing if not observant.

Your tongue swirls around her clit, as she rocks and grinds down against you, and you find Obanai copying the exact way you eat Mitsuri. When you suck her clit, he sucks yours, and when you lick and let Mitsuri ride your face, he nearly smothers himself in you.

You lose it, your end coming quickly as you hold Mitsuri’s hips as she rides and bucks against your face, her moans long and sensual. “So good sugar plum, your mouth feels so good~ how is it? Is Obanai just eating your pussy so good?” You can’t even pull away to tell them you’re coming. Only able to weakly tap Obanai’s shoulder, but with his head between your legs, he’s hardly paying attention.

You cum, body shaking and locking up as your eyes roll back and the knot in your stomach snaps.

“Oh fuck,” he pulls away for a second to breathe, realizing your convulsing is your orgasm, and watching as you twist and moan into Mitsuri’s pussy. Your cunt soaking the futon beneath you as you try to scoot away from all the pleasure.

Mitsuri sits up, twisting around and settling again over you face, so she could face Obanai properly now.

“What’s wrong dear? Aren’t you going to fuck her pussy too?” He’s stunned by Mitsuri’s erotic display, pinching her breasts as she rides your face, moaning as you lick and suck greedily.

He more gentle spreading your legs wider, slotting himself in between to line his cock up with your tight entrance. He’d never admit to being nervous, but his eyes speak louder than words as they look to Mitsuri.

“Here, let me help~” she leans forward, bringing Obanai forward too with an arm around his neck while her other hand grips his cock and lined him up to your entrance again. “Now push,” she whispers, kissing his lips with so much love and encouragement, he melts. His tip breaches you, and your gasp and moan beneath Mitsuri encourages him further as he slowly lets himself sink inside.

“Ngh, shit, how are you so tight?” He’s panting when his hips finally touch your ass. His question rhetorical, as he slowly slides out, choking in pleasure as your gooey walls cling to his cock and try to deny him exit.

He sets a slow and somewhat experimental pace, grunting as you clamp down when Mitsuri teasingly twists a nipple. “So cute plum, doing so good, hah, taking his cock.” She’s close, and you can tell by how her powerful thighs lock up around your head, her weight becoming more evident as she fully relaxes. You can only grip her thighs and encourage her to let more weight rest on you. Too overwhelmed by the thick stretch and slight burn of Obanai’s cock piercing you.

It hurt but it felt good too. Especially when someone thumbs at your clit softly, rubbing and rolling it as you buck and moan back.

It’s not fast, as Mitsuri rocks her hips and Obanai thrusts into you, but the slowly building orgasm is enough to leave you light headed and struggling for sanity.

“Oh, plum I’m going to cum, hn~!” Her head thrown back and breasts bouncing, Mitsuri’s slick soaks your face as you lick and drink her down. Her skin reddened and sweaty by the passion building.

“I need to cum too,” Obanai’s moans becoming louder, his thrusts more sloppy and forceful as you get wetter and more vocal. Mitsuri comes down from her high before moving off of you, kissing Obanai before laying down beside you both to toy with your chest and kiss you. Obanai opts to grip your hips tight as he fucks you, the loud wet squelching of your pussy sucking him in driving him further as he groans. His tip repeatedly slamming into the spongey section of your cunt and driving you wild as you claw at his arms.

“s’too much! n-no m’gonna cum please, please let me, hii!” You squeal as tears falls, coming apart as Obanai meanly pinches your clit and throws you over the edge.

“Cum then, ah, fuck, m-me too!” His sweat drips down his nose and onto your chest as he watches your face, committing it to memory as your face twists in pleasure. Your cunt impossibly tight as it grips him as he finishes, pulling out just before his hot cum comes rushing.

He covers your chest and face shamelessly.

Mitsuri chuckles when a few drops hit her too, even thumbing a bit to slip into her mouth for Obanai to watch.

“Obanai, you taste sweet!”

He drops beside you, sandwiching you between him and Mitsuri. Like Mitsuri had done, he thumbs up a thick collection of his cum to press against your lips and force you to taste him. “Cute…” he mutters softly, looking more relaxed and sleepy.

You don’t fight it, sucking the appendage as moaning as you realize he really is a bit sweet, followed by somewhat salty and mildly bitter. You lazily suck his finger until he grows bored and pulls it free, wiping the saliva on your cheek and snickering when you whine.

“Happy birthday~ don’t fall asleep yet, I want to ride you next!” It’s your turn to snicker, watching the way his eyes go wide with a hint of worry and sleepiness.

He’d soon find out Mitsuri’s appetite is insatiable. You relaxed, happy to watch him get overwhelmed for now.

“Happy birthday Obanai,” you smile at him, loving how his face reddens further but he smiles back.

“Senjuro-kun!” Mitsuri was running towards the young boy sweeping the front porch, his eyes widening as he takes in the Hashira.

“Kanroji-sama, good afternoon,” he vows politely, smiling at the good natured slayer.

“What brings you here?” He asks curiously, eyeing what appeared to be a bento in her hands.

“I brought you lunch as a thank you! You really are a natural match maker you know?! It’s like love just flows so freely through you!” Her gushing attracts the attention of his older brother, who begins to open his mouth and greet his friend before he realizes what she’s gushing about.

He waits patiently until Mitsuri takes her leave, bento in his hands as he feels the looming presence of his older brother.

“Ah… I swear this time I didn’t mean to.”

“This time?”

“…” Kyojuro would need to speak with the women in their neighborhood, their gossip seemingly no good for a young boy’s ears.

[ktsumu]

A CHILDHOOD BEDROOM tw: allusions to divorce/his family dynamic, holiday comfort for the soul

Ushijima’s bedroom is nothing like the one you share. 

His walls are bare, save for a few frames with pictures that are older than the two of you. There’s a bulletin above his desk that’s naked down to the cork, a few tacks littering it at random.

He has his dresser, a small mirror on the wall hanging above it. The room is nearly devoid of colour aside from beige and navy, but the Christmas lights from the house across the street give it some red and green. Not much, but it’s good enough.

You walk along the perimeter of the room, the floors cold, hands tracing over his desk and chair. He watches you from the doorway, the door closing softly behind him as he does. You hear the same floor creak beneath his feet as he crosses to his bed, the frame sighing under his weight.

A print-out picture of him and a redhead (Satori, he’s mentioned) standing side-by-side in school uniforms is framed on said desk, thumbs up on all four of their combined hands. A team in maroon stands tall beside it, and he’s dead center. A three-person family — father, mother, boy — takes up the space beside that, the frame much more sophisticated than the others. He looks about ten.

The clock on his wall tells the time wrong; it hasn’t been reset since he graduated and moved out at eighteen. It looks like it’s a few hours behind, but it’s really telling you time six years back. 

“Your walls are so bare,” you comment, turning back to look at him where he’s sat. He offers an almost unnoticeable, lopsided smile. “Where are all the medals, huh? I’ve heard big things about Ushiwaka the Great, you know.”

You’re joking, but he answers, “In my drawer.”

(You check; it’s full of them.)

Ushijima watches you hold them, looking at all of the engravings before setting them back, the years stretching further back the deeper that you dig. It’s like your chest is swelling with pride over things he won before you knew him. 

“What is it?” he asks, eyes following you as you cross over to his bed, sitting down to face him. His brows furrow, leaning his back against the headboard that looks so comically small; then his lips tug up at the sight of gold around your neck. His teenage pride rests on your chest.

There is something so invasive about a childhood bedroom, about wearing what once was his entire life as he looks at it — a whole life you didn’t have the chance to watch lays itself out in front of you. This childhood doesn’t exist anymore (maybe it never really did) and yet you see it around you all the same. 

(It is invasive, but it is full of love. An empty room that feels so full.)

“Why doesn’t your mother display your medals in the house?” you ask, tilting your head. “Hell, my mom would’ve lined mine up in the window. And your desk is like a trophy factory.”

 “It’s not practical, I suppose.”

“So they just sit in here?”

Ushijima looks at you like he’s in thought. 

He shrugs. “Mostly,” he says, “my father has a few in California. My player portrait is on his office wall. My mother shows her affection in her own way.”

“Can we take some back home?”

“Why? They’re old.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, shrugging. “I’ll display them around the room for a bit, swap ‘em out when you rack some up this season.”

Ushijima just chuckles shortly, shaking his head as he moves down the bed, laying down flat. His feet hang off the end a bit, and the pillows are the same as they always were. “If you wish. You know I never stop you from anything.”

You hum. “God, does it echo in here?”

“Sometimes. It never used to.”

“When did it start?”

He knows when. “I’m not sure.”

You know, too. “That’s okay. Our room at home doesn’t echo, at least.”

“No, you won’t let it.”

“Never.”

Ushijima reaches out a hand, his left, and he twirls the medal you picked in his hand. You wear it still, and it looks like it gleams. His eyes flicker up to yours. 

“I love you,” you tell him. “You and your empty room.”

He sighs a laugh, one you taught him how to make, and he pulls you into his chest by the ribbon around your neck. He breathes, your head rises and falls with his chest, and the room comes alive; breathing with its maker, welcoming him home the best it can. You certainly help.

Ushijima looks at his bedroom walls, his broken clock; the house is not resetting, his parents’ old bed will always be half full and half made, but he thinks this is enough — coming back with you was enough. Now, when he leaves, he will remember a warm bed and leave to sleep in a warmer one. 

“Love?”

“Mm?”

“When we find a home we like enough to live in,” When. Not if, when. “I’d like to paint the walls with you.”

“Ooh, what colour?”

“Not white — or beige.”

You grin, angling your head up to see him. Ushijima is looking up at his clock, six years behind like he just got home from training camp, his boxes packed for the city.

(He meets you two years later.)

“Pick a swatch, baby. Just no neons.”

“Oh. I was thinking of a traffic cone orange.”

“Ha-ha.”

[shotmrmiller]

i can‘t find this anywhere but possibly anal…? like you‘re fucking and he unexpectedly does it.

you got it.

1.5k words

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x AFAB! Reader

TW: explicit smut, p in v then anal. MDNI 18+ ty

Holding on to the back of his shirt, you bite the inside of your cheek nervously. Now you've done it. You'd been wanting to see just how much of your bratty behavior Simon would tolerate before he snapped— and what better time to test that limit than on a night out with your friends?

Dressed in a little black number that left your back completely exposed and cat eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man, you set out with purpose. You knew he'd be at the bar. Somehow, you'd always see him in the corner of your eye when out at a bar. Maybe it was a complete coincidence, or maybe Simon was keeping an eye on what's his— who knows? All you know is that that's what you're banking on.

Separating from your friends, there's an impish smile on your gloss-covered lips as you let strangers buy you drinks. You force a laugh out at a terrible joke that some nobody says when you feel a burning gaze at the back of your head, sending a prickling sensation curling up your spine. Hook.

The stranger tells another weak joke and you cover your mouth as you laugh, putting your hand on his forearm. Line.

You lean forward, a complete invasion of personal space, with a sultry smile and glittering eyes. The stranger picks up on your mood and lowers his head to get closer to yours. Sinker.

"I'm very sorry for what's about to happen," you murmur.

Before he can even process what you've just said, he's grabbed by his hair and flung to the ground, away from you. You wince at the sound his body makes on impact.

Simon stands with his broad back towards you, looking down at the poor victim of your choice. Lowering down to his haunches, he gives the stranger a real good look at his skull balaclava and grinds out, "That cat there," as he nods in your direction, "is taken."

The man is shaking as he stammers out, "I swear I didn't know! She didn't say anything about—"

Simon cuts him off with a flick of his hand.

"If I catch you anywhere near her again, you'll be digging out your own grave."

With an erratic nod, he drags himself backward, away from the both of you. Standing up, Simon turns to you with an inscrutable look. You just look back up at him doe eyes.

In a sudden movement, he takes his jacket off, wrapping it around your waist, before he picks you up like a sack of rice— tattooed forearm across the back of your now-covered thighs, and storms towards the exit. He opens his truck door and drops you on the leather passenger seat before grabbing your face with an almost painful grip, forcing you to look at him.

"Actions have consequences, pet."

He steps away and slams the door closed.

--

Simon all but drags you into your flat and straight to the bedroom.

"What was that little show today, eh?", he says as he takes off the balaclava before turning to look at you.

"I'm not sure what—" and Simon cuts you off.

"The only time you get to act stupid is when I'm fucking you stupid."

You squeeze your thighs together at his words.

"On the bed then." You turn around and reach up around your neck to undo the strings of your dress when you're pushed harshly, ending up on all fours on the mattress. Pulling your dress over your hips, he slaps one arse cheek before soothing the sting.

"I said on the bed," giving you another sharp slap.

"Do I not give you enough attention?" He strikes the other cheek, then lowers his hand to cup your clothed pussy.

"Do I not give this greedy cunt exactly what it wants?" He slaps it and you whimper— the pained pleasure makes you wet.

"It's clear you need a reminder of who you belong to." He spanks your arse with both hands for a final time before grabbing your ankle and yanking you to the floor.

"On your knees."

Your reaction is visceral and you're kneeling with your mouth open, tongue sticking out and hands clasped behind your back.

"Atta girl," he purred.

Unbuckling his belt, he takes his erection out. A solid 8 inches, deliciously thick and heavy, curved upwards, your mouth waters at the sight. Shuffling closer, you look up at Simon for permission. He nods and you take him in your mouth, tongue stroking the vein on the underside of his cock. You bob your head a couple of times before he stops you with a grip on your hair.

"Say you're sorry," as he pushes your head, and you choke around his manhood.

He reiterates. "Say you're sorry or I don't fuck you. I'm more than happy to shoot my cum down your pretty throat."

You pull away, a string of saliva connecting between your mouth and the tip of his cock.

"M'sorry, Si. I was just," and you give him a cheshire grin, "limit testing."

Simon tsks twice before releasing an exasperated sigh.

"And here I thought you were ready to behave." He pauses to scratch his jaw then firmly grips your upper arm to pick you up and bend you over on the bed once more.

"If you're not going to submit, then I'll just have to fuck you into it."

Pulling the gusset of your knickers to the side, he presses into you. Closing your eyes at the stretch, he gives you just one second for your walls to acclimate before he sets a furious pace. Every thrust punches the air from your lungs and the little grunts Simon lets out tightens the coil in your stomach— making you drip onto the back of your thighs and the front of his. How were you so close already?

Switching up his rhythm, once every few thrusts Simon stops and grinds deep into you— pressing firmly against the entrance of your womb— and it aches. You whine at the discomfort, and he taunts, "What?" and presses his hips flush against your arse, pushing his cock into the depths only he can ever reach, "Is this not what you wanted?" and then he spits into your other hole before pressing his thumb inside slowly, to the knuckle. That almost pushed you over the edge and you're wailing— you feel so full.

"I'm just showing you who," press, "you" press, "belong" press, "to." and with that last grind, you shatter around him. Gummy walls tight around his cock, he continues to fuck you through your orgasm as he pants out, "Like that, baby. Just like that." Not having come down from your high, your mind is so gone that you don't feel when he pulls out before slipping his suddenly lubed-up length into your other hole without warning. Luckily it had been slightly stretched out from him taking you there a couple of days ago, but it still burns at the intrusion, and you hiss loudly.

"Deep breath, baby. Ah— fuck me. You're so tight, you're just about strangling my cock."

He pulls back, watching the ring of muscle pull back with him, and lets out a loud groan at the sight before pushing back in.

"Christ, sweet girl. You're sucking me right in."

He smacks your arse again, leaving behind sticky residue from the lube.

"All of your holes are for me to use as I please, aren't they, pet?" and you can't help but nod dumbly. He could ask you anything and you'd comply right now— he feels incredible inside of you, filling you to the brim.

It felt like he was thrusting into you for hours until he snarled, and with one large hand, pushed your chest flat against the mattress and pinned you down. Hammering into you. Truly fucking you. You're powerless under the weight of his body, feeling sweat drip onto your back. His thrusts send a jolt of pain up your spine from the sheer force of them, and it couldn't be more perfect.

After a dozen thrusts, you squeeze your walls and feel him swell, and with a sensual, loud, moan— he stills. His cock twitches inside of you, coating your insides with his come.

He finally moves, pulling out and you both hiss. Your limbs are heavy with fatigue, unable to move, so Simon grabs you by the shoulder to flip you around and face him. Your half-lidded eyes take in his appearance. Leaning over you, his forehead is dotted with sweat, dripping off his chin, and landing on your collarbone. Cheeks mottled pink and quick, ragged breaths leave his slightly open mouth. His eyes though— they're clear, staring right at you, adoring. He lowers his head and purposefully bumps your nose with his before slanting his mouth over yours, kissing you languid and soft. It's moments like this that are your favorite. He fucks you like he hates you but is so delicate with the aftercare that it makes your eyes sting with tears.

With one last kiss, he slowly gets you in a seated position before putting one arm under your knees and the other behind your back— carrying you to the bathroom.

"Let's get you in the bath, love. I'll make us some tea."

A/N: Do NOT do what was done here. If it's goin in the backdoor, you absolutely use a condom. It is not safe. UTI's are painful and it's almost a guarantee that it'll happen if not protected. And you should NEVER just full thrust into someone’s back door hole. Because you can and probably will causing tearing there. It can happen. Genuinely be safe between you and your partner.

[hurtspideyparker]

Hi, sorry but could you recommend any of your favourite Peter Parker fics please?

For sure !!! *cracks open ao3 bookmarks*

Thirty Hours by polaroid15 - Peter doesn't take any breaks during a lengthy fight with the Avengers. The mind-melting fever that follows really should have been expected.

Hurt Peter Parker, my favourite tag <3 I love when Spider-Man is a badass and also lacks self-preservation. He's so cool fighting alongside the Avengers and we get some sweet hurt/comfort irondad!

Fitting In (Tiny Spaces) by aloneintherain - Peter's trapped beneath a collapsed building during a mission, hurt and unable to move. Luckily, his comm still works. Unluckily, the Avengers don’t realise how bad of a state Peter is in, and Peter isn’t inclined to tell them.

This fic is an icon in the fandom and for GOOD REASON. I just can not get enough of Peter Parker hiding his injuries. More heavy whump and angst!

All good things come in threes by Bergen - Peter has three secret identities: Spider-Man, the superhero who swings around the city to save people. Parker Benjamin, who gives Tony Stark unsolicited advice on his research. And NightMonkey, the Instagrammer who keeps uploading increasingly popular but embarrassing drawings of Iron Man.

And he can juggle them all just fine, thankyouverymuch.

Okay here is the fluff!!! Peter is a genius, a menace, and a sweetheart. Tony Stark runs into him (again and again) and can't help but have a soft spot for him every time. Funny and cute and an all 'round good time!

Held Together by Spiderwebs by TunaFishChris - Steve is not coping well in the twenty-first century. At all. Three months after the Chitauri invasion, he decides he's had enough.

But just as he's about to end it all, he runs into the new hero in town.

This one focuses a lot on Steve but I really like him and Peter's relationship in it, and I think this is great Peter Parker characterization. TW for discussions of depression and suicide, it gets a bit dark!

5 Times Spider-Man Saved an Avenger's Ass (and 1 Time They Saved Him) by TunaFishChris - this fic showcases how strong and capable Peter is, he's definitely a BAMF. I really like this genre where the Avengers know Spider-Man but not Peter Parker, makes Peter feel more independent and mature like in the comics.

Five Time Faculty Members Had to Call Peter's Emergency Contact + One Time He Shows Up Anyway, Five Times Tony Stark's Fabled Intern Just Showed Up + One Time He Was Invited, and Five Times Strangers Talked About Peter and Tony + One time Someone They Know Did by kingdomfaraway - I am just gonna recommend this entire series. Super fluffy, extreme irondad and spiderson. They're just adorable from an outside perspective and I love when Peter gets to just be Tony's intern and a teenager for a while :)

research and disaster by blueh - “So, uh, Mr. Stark definitely knows Roomba-Kid,” Becket says and discreetly tilts his head in the direction of the pair.

“Oh my god,” Jess says. She almost sounds gleeful. “Oh my god, he’s not just some random kid. He’s Mr. Stark’s kid.”

or: the interns at Stark Industries have some questions about Peter Parker. The answers aren’t quite what they expect.

I just love intern Peter mk? Let him be a kid genius and have fun!!! Fluffy and humorous, again with the irondad.

Captain, Oh My- Not My Captain! by uncouth_peasant - Peter swallowed hard before firing a web to swing into the fray. “Cap’s going after civilians. I’m out of time.”

Bruised and bloody men <3. Just Peter being a badass and getting beat to a pulp. Cool fighting, lots of Peter whump, and of course the Avengers being protective.

Good publicity by Bergen - Between Peter Parker barely speaking, and Spider-Man being the ultimate chatterbox, how was Tony ever supposed to figure out that they were one and the same person?

Tony Stark is secretly a softie for cute kids, especially when they're a genius and have a sense of humour to rival his own. Peter is a foster kid who ends up finding a home with Pepper and Tony, very sweet.

The Third Option by Uncertainty_Principle - When Ben is murdered Peter goes into foster care. It takes just a tiny taste of superpowers for Peter to decide he doesn’t want to put up with his horrible foster father anymore—the streets are infinitely more appealing. All he wants is to be Spider-Man anyway.

So he leaves, simple.

Simple, that is, until Iron Man needs Spider-Man’s help.

Heavy TW for this one, mind the tags. This is a popular fic and for good reason. A very mature and realistic portrayal of the foster care system and homelessness. The Peter angst is really great and I could barely put it down, that boy needs a hug so bad.

Now here's some hydra!Peter fics cuz they're my jam:

Peter is a precious chickpea by Bergen - They attack the HYDRA safe house shortly before sunrise.

The only people defending said safe house are Peter and Leo, and Leo slams his cell door open and starts spitting out orders, but then promptly gets clobbered over the head and keels sideways.

So that just leaves Peter. And he’s not even going to try to fight a whole team of Avengers. He looks up at Iron Man filling the doorway. “I surrender.”

He’s never been captured before and he’s not sure what to do. Escape, probably.

This entire series is PERFECT. I just love how adorable Peter is, and all the relationships Peter forms with the Avengers absolutely melt my heart. Peter's characterization in this is really unique and I wish there was more. The Bucky and Peter friendship is everythingggg. I love hydra!peter and bucky fics.

Indoctrination by phoenixon - The Avengers thought they were on a typical assignment: Infiltrate the Hydra base and find the weapon. What they didn't expect was the small boy raised by Hydra that they found instead. And they definitely didn't expect him to stay at Avengers Tower or how he somehow wormed his way into their lives. As for Peter, he just wants to be good and obey what the Hydra men told him so he doesn't get in trouble.

I just really love hydra Peter changing into a sweet and intelligent boy once he's rescued and safe, and how all the Avengers take up such heart-warming parental roles around him.

out there, living in the sun by Hailfire_73 - The Avengers rescue Peter from a Hydra base ran by his father, Richard Parker, except Peter doesn't really see it as a rescue, and has trouble settling into a new life away from Hydra and his father at the Avengers compound. OR - Peter learns how to be an actual teenager, live life, and put his abusive past behind him, and Tony learns how to be a father.

Hydra Peter but he's most definitely a traumatized and moody teenager. I really enjoyed Peter's character arc and the exploration of his trauma. It felt more realistic the way his journey isn't just a straight or clear path. He's more mature in this one and it was a really compelling read, balancing the angst with some humour and fluff. Loved the ending.

Tinker, Tailor, Spider by Bergen - Tony is roped into a mission to transport a teenager to safety. But when things go south, it soon becomes more and more puzzling who the teenager is and what ‘safety’ means for him.

I really enjoy that the author doesn't water Peter being hydra down. Yes he is a highly skilled assassin and a badass who's trauma pervades his every thought and decision. Made me fall in love with the Tony, Pepper, Morgan and Peter as a family dynamic. Super domestic while still highlighting Peter's troubled past.

[pin-k-ink]

wolf’s den // sakusa kiyoomi & miya atsumu (pt. 1)

tw ⇢ incest(reader is sakusa’s little sister), dark content, possessive/obsessive behavior, male masturbation, voyeurism, implied age gap, ‘brother’s best friend’ but darker, sakuatsu if you squint

wc ⇢ 5.2k

Atsumu let out a low whistle as he stepped into Sakusa's pristine apartment. Every surface gleamed spotlessly - as if belonging in an interior design catalog rather than a living space.

"Nice place ya got here, Omi-kun," he drawled while shrugging off his coat. "Though I guess I shoulda expected nothing less from Mr. Neat Freak himself."

A muffled grunt echoed from what he assumed was the kitchen area. "Just don't track dirt everywhere. Wipe your feet properly."

Rolling his eyes, Atsumu made an exaggerated show of stomping his sneakers against the entry mat with excessive force. "There, happy? Should I roll out the sanitizing mat too while I'm at it?"

The familiar sound of Sakusa's irritated sigh reached his ears, prompting Atsumu's signature shiteating grin to spread across his lips. He opened his mouth to volley another playfully needling jab, already anticipating Sakusa's prickly clap back.

But the snarky retort never came.

Instead, a sweet, melodious voice - utterly at odds with the pristine environment's severity - pierced through the air like a windchime's gentle chorus.

"Kiyoomi! You didn't tell me we'd have a guest!"

Atsumu turned towards the hallway just in time to witness you practically flounce into the living area on a pocket of bubbly, effortless energy. You moved with the unbridled exuberance and grace of a rambunctious puppy, arms carving unselfconscious arcs as you ambled inside.

Despite your modest, unassuming stature, that snug school uniform skirt shamelessly rode up with each unhurried stride - teasing at the prospect of those long, tempting legs disappearing beneath the fabric. Atsumu felt his throat go statically dry as you gravitated straight towards Sakusa with a radiant, adoring beam.

Without preamble, you looped those deceptively slender arms around one of his in an unmistakably childish, clinging manner. Sakusa's spine stiffened ever so subtly at your overtly tactile invasion of his personal space. But rather than recoiling or deterring your brazenly cuddly behavior, his posture seemed to...settle in resignation as you peered up at him through your lashes with naked affection.

"You should've told me we'd have company!" you mock-pouted in that same lilting, sweet tone. "I would've put on something cute just for your friend!"

Friend. The innocuous word detonated in Atsumu's hindbrain with all the force of a thermal detonation, setting off a searing chain reaction of dark hunger he couldn't quite put a name to. His focus remained utterly honed on the way your pursed lips quivered with each whimsically petulant syllable.

Before he could even begin processing the sordid spiral of his thoughts, you surged up on your tiptoes to plant a sweet, lingering peck against Sakusa's cheek. Atsumu watched with morbid fascination as his notoriously touch-averse teammate remained utterly impassive. No visible discomfort or revulsion danced across those typically severe features - despite your cloying, touchy display of pure sisterly adoration.

"There, all better!" you giggled in that tinkling melodic timbre. As if openly doting upon the prickliest germaphobe Atsumu had ever known was the most natural thing in the world.

For the briefest of instants, the world around them may as well have evaporated into irrelevance. All that existed was the image of you beaming up at Sakusa with all the radiant innocence and unaffected openness of a sunflower following the day's warmth. Atsumu felt his pulse throb thickly as you drank in that beatific sight hungrily - as if witnessing something sacred and pure in a way he could never recreate or taint.

Then, the moment fractured.

It was as if an unseen switch had been flipped, igniting the relentless inferno of territoriality that governed Sakusa's every action where you were involved. The muscles in his bicep tensed like braided steel cables as his arm remained unnaturally rigid within the circle of your embrace.

But it was the infinitesimal slide and flex of Sakusa's other hand snaking around the supple curve of your lower back that sent aotectic surge of unease ricocheting through Atsumu's core. His splayed fingers spasmed possessively, inexorably drawing you flush against his side as those obsidian eyes drilled into Atsumu.

The silent warning blazed with searing clarity, a wordless edict burned straight from Sakusa's very marrow: this creature currently basking in your affection belongs to me...and me alone.

In that moment, Atsumu felt incredibly small - as if he were an intruder bearing witness to something intensely personal, sacred...unhinged. As if an unfurling new reality sat perched at his core, waiting to sink in its bloody talons at the slightest provocation.

You, meanwhile, remained entirely blissfully ignorant of the undercurrents surging between the two men as you beamed up at Sakusa. With another windchime peal of girlish laughter, you disentangled yourself just enough to bestow that radiant, effervescent smile onto Atsumu.

"Well hi there!" you chirped, that brilliant beam of innocent curiosity fixing onto Atsumu. "I don't think we've had the pleasure of being introduced yet."

With a sway of your hips, you sidled closer until you were openly invading his personal space. Atsumu felt like a deer stumbling into the scope of a hunter's crosshairs as your sugary floral scent and radiant warmth washed over him. Up close, he could make out the dusting of faint freckles spanning your features and the way your tongue instinctively wet your lower lip.

"I'm Kiyoomi's little sister!" you trilled with windchime sweetness.

A dainty hand extended towards Atsumu in polite greeting, bracelets jingling softly with the motion. He blinked dazedly for a heartbeat, utterly disarmed by your proximity assaulting his senses. But the instant your palm met his in a fleeting clasp, it was like a match lancing through the thickening miasma of distracted arousal clouding his thoughts.

The first lascivious flare of heat blazed low in Atsumu's gut as his gaze instinctively dropped to trail down the plunging vee of your uniform blouse. In his haze, the buttons seemed to strain teasingly over the subtle swells of your breasts rising and falling with each guileless inhale. He swallowed a torrid pulse at the glimpse of silky cleavage peeking out from that dangerous neckline.

Focus, dammit, he growled internally even as his hungry stare continued roving lower. He tried and failed to tear his eyes away from the way your skirt clung to those generous hips, the inviting flare before tapering down into a pair of thighs he suddenly longed to—

A sharp exhalation - more animal than human - punched from between Sakusa's gritted teeth like a battlefield canon. Atsumu jolted bodily back to reality, head swiveling to find his closest friend's expression had mutated into something thunderously unhinged. All traces of sardonic neutrality had evaporated from those flinty eyes, replaced by a roiling, nearly feral darkness Atsumu had never witnessed directed at him before.

Sakusa looked positively unraveled in that moment, posture coiled tighter than a cornered viper ready to strike. The slackness of his jaw and the chilling, predatory gleam slicing through the shadows beneath those hooded lids spoke to an unraveling far more visceral than mere irritation.

It was...possession. Carnal, all-consuming ownership seared through every synapse behind that smoldering glower.

A shiver of unease raked Atsumu's spine as that wordless message finally pierced his lustful daze. You were so much more to Sakusa than just a "baby sister" in the platonic sense. He looked at you - guarded you - like a feral beast sheltering its most precious cache, willing to eradicate any perceived threat with extreme prejudice.

The severity of Sakusa's lethally possessive energy managed to momentarily derail Atsumu's spiraling descent into distracted lascivity. That hazy inferno of forbidden desire calcifying behind his bellybutton banked down to a steady, smoldering ember of begrudging acknowledgment.

Message received, whether he liked it or not: this was Sakusa's territory. His dominion to control and shelter as he saw fit. Atsumu had simply been granted a fleeting glimpse behind the curtain into that darkly covetous world - one he very clearly wasn't welcome in, despite how tempting the glimpses proved.

You, meanwhile, seemed to remain utterly oblivious to the perilous exchange billowing out around you. With a tinkling giggle, you squeezed Atsumu's hand once more.

"I'll let you boys get reacquainted!" you beamed with sun-drenched warmth. "But we'll have to swap embarrassing stories about Kiyoomi soon!"

With a conspiratorial wink, you finally disentangled yourself to sashay deeper into the apartment - leaving a deafening silence and the lingering vapors of your floral aura in your wake.

For several electric moments, a weighted tension thick enough to choke on cloaked the room. Sakusa's brooding presence loomed with all the untamed peril of a powder keg awaiting an errant spark. Atsumu swallowed hard, struggling to find the normally glib words to ease his friend's visible unraveling.

"Omi-Omi..." he began slowly.

But the instant that nickname fell from his lips, Sakusa's granite facade shattered in a hailstorm of livid snarls.

"Don't you dare, Miya," he bit out with terrifying lucidity. "Don't even think about slithering an inch further into her orbit."

Dark eyes blazing with that same primal fire bored into Atsumu from across the room. Each enunciated syllable felt like its own scalding rebuke.

"She's off limits. Completely. No exceptions, no matter how...tempting you may find her."

Sakusa's jaw twitched as that last phrase grated forth - a muscle clenching behind his cheek with each guttural delivery. Atsumu understood the implication with frightening clarity. His friend might as well have declared a scorched earth policy on anyone who dared make a play for the most exquisite, corruptible treasure jealously guarded in his possession.

Because whether Sakusa explicitly stated it or not...that was precisely the nature of whatever unhinged obsession smoldered between him and the dazzling little force of nature roaming these halls. You were his undisputed territory - a coveted keep to be carefully curated and insulated against any encroachment whatsoever.

Even from Atsumu himself, it seemed.

Atsumu barely had a chance to decompress from Sakusa's scorching gauntlet before his solitude was again disrupted by the melodic lilt of your voice.

"Oh good, you found the guest room okay!"

He turned towards the open doorway to find you leaning against the frame with hip cocked at an angle that somehow elevated your air of casual, girlish insouciance into something utterly transfixing. The tight little cotton tank top you wore skated along the gentle curves of your figure like a second skin. Those delectable legs seemed to stretch for miles below the frayed hems of your tiny lounge shorts.

"I was just about to come find you to see if you needed any...assistance getting settled," you continued, tone dripping with an exaggerated sweetness that paradoxically raised the fine hairs along Atsumu's nape.

His mouth worked fruitlessly as he drank in the vision you presented - all tousled bedhead radiance and gloriously minimal clothing. The thin cotton did absolutely nothing to conceal the outline of your nipples. Something about the nonchalant, almost childlike manner in which you carried yourself in that immodest getup made the visuals that much more dizzying.

"Actually, I could use a little help getting unpacked," he heard himself murmur before his brain could catch up.

One sleek eyebrow arched in muted surprise, but you didn't seem remotely taken aback by the fraught undercurrents bleeding from Atsumu's stare and tone. If anything, your full lips only curved higher at the corners in silent welcome.

"Well then, lead the way," you purred in that same saccharine-laced timbre.

As you brushed past to sidle into the room, the delicate citrus bouquet of your natural scent washed over Atsumu in another searing wallop to his senses. His focus lasered onto the inviting dip of your waistline above those criminally tight shorts. The inseam fabric strained indecently, leaving very little to the salacious imagination about the feminine musculature cradled within.

"You'll have to let me know if you need anything else to make this room feel...homier," you murmured without preamble, settling onto the foot of his bed with a whisper of cotton against skin.

Atsumu suppressed a violent shudder at the implication dripping from your every languid syllable and hooded glance. The sheer wattage of your playful, inviting aura crackled through the air in an electric current sparking directly against his receptive nerve-endings. You looked every inch the sultry pinup - all effortless sexiness and sticky, girlish temptation wrapped into one intoxicating package.

More importantly, you seemed acutely aware of the flustered effect you radiated. Each coquettish bat of your lashes and glimpse of glossed lips carried the giddy vibration of a naughty secret dangling in the air. Atsumu was utterly transfixed and out of his depth in the best way possible. How could Sakusa's own flesh and blood emit such brazen, corrupting effervescence without even a hint of self-awareness or shame?

Then again, maybe this was just your way. Maybe you thrilled in weaving these delicious snares of temptation and watching men like Atsumu helplessly flounder within their silken, unassuming grasp.

He coughed roughly into his fist, determined not to wilt so easily beneath your charming assault no matter how feverish his thoughts spiraled. "I'll let ya know if I need anything...extracurricular," Atsumu rasped in what he hoped passed for an assuredly casual deadpan. "After all, it'd be rude not to sample the full hospitality while I'm a guest here."

Your easy laughter feathered across his exposed forearms in an electric trail of goosebumps. "You're too much, Atsumu-kun. But how generous of you to allow me to spoil you."

With that and a final inscrutable look smoldering through the fans of your lashes, you rose fluidly from the mattress before slinking out the same way you entered - like a vaporous siren fading back into the safety of obscured corners. Atsumu remained rooted in place, heart thundering against his ribs as the memory of your gaze dissipated like smoke through his fingers.

"Don't forget - dinner's in a few hours!" your windchime cadence trilled faintly from the hallway. "I hope you like the menu I have...whipped up for tonight!"

Atsumu groaned from deep in his chest, scrubbing one palm over his flushed features. If tonight's activities were anything akin to this "preview" appetizer, he feared whatever twisted fixation first sparked inside him earlier would only continue roaring out of control.

All because you seemed determined to gleefully pour accelerant on those smoldering coals of obsession every chance you could.

By the time Atsumu emerged for the evening meal, you and Sakusa were already seated at the small kitchen table amid a modest spread of grilled fish, steamed veggies, and fresh rice. Despite the humble fare, you'd somehow managed to elevate the presentation into something straight out of a rustic wilderness home and living photoshoot.

Tea lights flickered in tinted glass votives scattered artfully across the gingham tablecloth. An uncorked bottle of crisp white wine stood at the ready, already having bestowed a delicate rosy flush to your cheeks and a giggling effervescence to your mannerisms. Not that your mood needed any extra buoyancy tonight.

"Atsumu-kun, you finally decided to join us!" you sang out in that windchime timbre as he approached.

Sakusa's spine visibly stiffened like a plank in his seat at your cheerful greeting. But you seemed oblivious to the simmering thundercloud radiating off your sibling, too busy patting the empty chair between the two of you pointedly.

Atsumu felt rooted in place, torn between the instinctive longing to drink in your radiant proximity and the nagging chill of Sakusa's silent disapproval trying to dissuade him. For one wild moment, he fleetingly envisioned flipping the wooden table between you in a childish tantrum of frustration - shattering those artistic place settings and flickering flames while disrupting whatever sordid tension hummed around you in this space.

But just as quickly as the unbecoming thought manifested, you broke the spell with an easy laugh and shooing wave of your hand.

"Oh come now, no one's going to bite!" The words dripped from your plush lips like warmed honey, thick with the promise of being anything but innocuous.

That lilting beckon was all the encouragement Atsumu's id required. In three strides he'd covered the distance to drop heavily into the seat directly between you and Sakusa's brooding silence, close enough to make out every flirtatious flutter of your lashes and sip of wine flushing the exposed swells of your bosom a deeper rose hue.

Proximity, it seemed, only amplified each sinewy contour and fragrant enticement wafting from you in dizzying waves. Atsumu momentarily forgot how to breathe, much less speak or look anywhere beyond the brazen strip of cleavage winking at him through the deep plunge of your top's neckline. Even from his peripherals, he could make out the sloping feminine curves of your rib cage tapering into those tantalizing dips and valleys of warm skin.

Thoroughly entranced, Atsumu watched in a trance-like stupor as you leaned forward to reach across his lap for the bottle of wine - completely oblivious to the lewd vista you were broadcasting. His mouth flooded with saliva at the up-close tease of lace brushing against his thigh, the unobscured view plunging straight into tempting shadowed depths he desperately yearned to plunder like a conquering sailor sighting land for the first time.

"Let me top you off, Atsumu-kun," you purred in a mellifluous tone thick with suggestion.

Atsumu felt his pulse skyrocket as a few rogue droplets of condensation from the dripping bottle spilled over the curves of your exposed chest in slow trickles. Your breath caught in a soft gasp at the cool rivulet skating between your breasts while Atsumu sat utterly transfixed, paralyzed by the urge to lean in and chase that beaded path with his ravenous mouth.

This sinful torment dragged on for an infinite heartbeat, the three of you frozen in this torrid tableau like a renaissance-era fresco. Then Sakusa deliberately cleared his throat with the gravelly force of a tectonic grind.

"My sister's careless manners aside," he seethed in a tone of molten, barely-contained rage, "perhaps you should exercise a modicum of self-control at the dinner table. Miya."

The rebuke sliced through Atsumu's lustful trance with scathing clarity. Stomach churning, he quickly tore his gaze away to settle on the flickering candle flames between them - trying and failing to purge the debauched hunger clawing through his sinews.

You remained blithely unaware of the silent exchange crackling with tension, too busy delicately dabbing an embroidered napkin to the moisture stain darkening your sternum.

"Always a little spill here and there," you sighed airily without a hint of reproach. "But that's half the fun, isn't it?"

As if to punctuate the rhetorical, you pointedly dragged the napkin along the curves of your breasts in an exaggerated swipe - the picture of saccharine girlishness coupled with the most lurid self-indulgence. Atsumu wasn't certain if you truly grasped the weight behind your actions, or if you merely basked in deliberately stoking the smoldering torment clearly gripping him.

Regardless, he already knew with sinking resignation that this meal would prove nothing short of an agonizing marathon in temptation and wanton torture.

All while Sakusa looked on, hawk-eyed and seething, ready to swat away any perceived line-steppers with vicious territorial backlash.

Long after the dry husks of their dinner plates had been cleared, Atsumu remained haunted by the sights and scents of that tantalizing evening. He tossed fitfully atop the guest bedroom sheets, body thrumming with a familiar restless ache born from deprivation and obsession.

A soft rap at the door made him jolt upright, sheets pooling around his bare torso. Atsumu opened his mouth to call out, but the teasing lilt of your voice purred through the cracked entryway first.

"I'm not disturbing you, am I Atsumu-kun?"

You sidled into the dim glow with all the breezy elegance of a lingerie model - barely ensconced within a negligee of filmy lavender lace that skated along every lush curve. Strands of silken hair framed your face in a tousled, inviting halo as you regarded him through hooded lashes thick with bedroom promise.

Atsumu swallowed hard against the sandpaper roiling of his tongue, hyper aware of the way his athletic shorts tented obscenely. You didn't seem to register the offense, too busy trailing your fingers along the door frame with calculated idleness.

"I wanted to bid you a proper goodnight..." you husked, gaze roving overtly along the taut musculature of his abdomen. "And perhaps get your thoughts on tonight's dinner?"

Teeth sank into your plump lower lip - whether subconsciously or not, the act radiated the most decadent allure. Atsumu felt the first insistent prickles of perspiration bead along his hairline as you dipped your chin with a conspiratorial giggle.

"I'll admit, I may have been quite the...sloppy hostess with certain...spillages."

The husky timbre dripping from your lips conjured phantoms of the sinful vista you'd broadcasted earlier that evening - all smooth swells of exposed breasts and dabbing towelettes edging ever lower in indecent tease. Atsumu rasped out a withering groan before he could swallow it back.

That seemed to be the unspoken cue you were awaiting. With footfalls light as shadowdancing whispers, you crossed the room's threshold to perch yourself on the foot of his mattress. Slippered feet swung idly as you leaned in with the subtlest teasing sway of lavender lace.

"Did I...overstep any boundaries tonight, Atsumu-kun?" you asked in a honeyed murmur that bespoke far more than mere propriety. "I do hope I didn't make you too...uncomfortable at dinner."

The sweet scent of your perfume and shampoo enveloped Atsumu in a stiflingly floral gauze. His pulse thrummed a dissonant rhythm at your shameless proximity, roaring like a riptide against his heightened senses. What he wouldn't give to seize you by those tiny wrists and simply haul you beneath him until the last remnants of that guileless, flirty mask evaporated beneath his ravenous assault.

But he realized with a dawning sense of strangled defeat...the choice would never be his to make.

The heated brand of Sakusa's possession weighed too heavily in every languorous glance and coy mannerism. A brand seared so deeply into your marrow, it was written into your DNA's very architecture to seek permission and validation at his altar. Intentional or not, you were his avatar of temptation and desecration.

It was Atsumu's sworn duty to simply endure each new provocation and descent into lascivious obsession without intervention.

So when those full lips pursed into an anticipatory 'o' - clearly awaiting an answer about being too untoward - he released a shredded sigh of equal parts starvation and resignation.

"No...ya were just bein' yerself," Atsumu rumbled, voice graveled from the strain of restraint. "Nothin' for me to get uncomfortable about with that sorta sweet...hospitality."

Whether he imagined it or not, a flickered glinted behind those molten eyes at his capitulation. You eased back with a throaty chuckle before uncoiling from the sheets in one lithe, sinuous motion.

"Sweet dreams, Atsumu-kun," you bid with a breezing air that brought your perfumed aura wafting across his over-sensitized senses once more.

Long after your teasing presence retreated down the hallway, he remained upright and rooted in place - haunted by the sordid fantasies playing out like firelight dances across his psyche. Atsumu clutched the sheets in knotted fists as his jaw ground with escalating torment.

Until finally, the fraying restraint he still desperately clutched at snapped under the weight of his all-consuming fever pitch. With a shredded growl tearing from low in his chest, Atsumu surrendered to his roiling arousal, one fist flying to the throbbing erection tenting his shorts.

The friction of callused skin against the sensitive organ was a delicious form of self-flagellation. He stroked himself roughly, gritting his teeth against the pleasure-pain. In his fevered imagination, that hand belonged to another - one who watched his depravity from beneath hooded, knowing lashes.

You.

The forbidden vision of you - naked and panting and eager to please, all doe-eyed innocence and lascivious curiosity - flashed like a lightning bolt behind his eyes. The fantasy morphed, twisting into something far more perverse as he imagined you sprawled in an obscene splay of feminine limbs, lips swollen and cheeks flushed - but not from any pleasure he'd bestowed.

In his mind's eye, you remained impaled upon the unmistakable contours of a cock. Your thighs quivered as you struggled to accommodate the length splitting your pussy apart. But the angle of his imaginary thrusts wasn't one of pleasurable indulgence, or even of animalistic rutting. No, it was the brutal, selfish gouging of a feral beast claiming his territory.

The possessiveness radiating from those shadows behind you was unmistakable - an ineffable, unhinged energy radiating pure ownership.

Sakusa's.

The realization of whom you truly craved above all others sent Atsumu careening into the abyss, hips pumping and teeth bared in a snarl. The orgasm was a scouring, cleansing agony as thick ropes of cum spurted forth to spatter across the sheets in sticky stripes.

With a ragged grunt, he collapsed onto his back amidst the mess of cooling sweat and jizz. The aftershocks of pleasure pulsed through his veins, eclipsing his surroundings in a haze of endorphin-fueled oblivion.

When he finally came to, he was suddenly aware of the disturbing fantasy that had gripped him in its clutches. Atsumu groaned, scrubbing his palms over his face with a mixture of disgust and shame.

"What the fuck was that?"

The question echoed into the darkened room, a chilling portent he refused to acknowledge.

Long afterwards, the hazy vestiges of his indulgence refused to bring any sense of true sated release. If anything, Atsumu's thoughts only spiraled deeper into darker, grimmer obsession as the sweat and shame cooled from his brow in the guest room's dim shadows.

Restless paces resumed as his desperation escalated to an almost maddening degree. Perhaps some water would—

Wait. What was that sound?

Atsumu instinctively stilled, ear tuning to an indistinct rhythm bleeding from the far side of the apartment. As if being guided by a wraith's bony fingers, he found himself slipping into the hallway and trailing that siren summons. Deeper and deeper through Sakusa's apartment until he drew up outside a door slightly ajar - flickering shadows and indistinct

The muffled cadences echoing down the shadowed hallway felt like tendrils of insistent smoke curling beneath Atsumu's skin - intangible yet insidiously inescapable. Each indistinct murmur and rhythmic whisper carried the unmistakable undercurrent of something intimate, something meant to be experienced only by those within the sanctum's threshold.

He knew beyond all doubt that he should retreat. Put as much distance between himself and whatever blasphemous activities awaited discovery behind that slightly ajar door. Atsumu's baser survival instincts screamed for him to flee before his curiosity dragged him across the point of no return.

But that same poisonous undertow of obsession you had awakened within him during your siren song of innocence and corruption sang a far more compelling chorus. With each featherlight step forward, the suggestive refrains woven through the hushed gasps and creaking mattress springs sharpened into haunting clarity.

"...so good for me, sweet girl. Taking it so beautifully..."

Sakusa's low rasp punched through the heavy air with spine-shocking potency. The sheer, unapologetic undercurrent of unholy reverence scorching beneath each guttural intonation made the hairs along Atsumu's nape prickle to rigidity.

Scattered flashes of movement filtered through the cracked veil - just enough to paint a vivid mental portrait of what he was overhearing. Sakusa's massive, powerful frame loomed like a demon king. The bedding beneath him rippled with the force of his movements, the violent undulations punctuated by the telltale slap of flesh against flesh. Iron corded forearms flexed and bulged as hips pistoned in an unhinged, animalistic pace. His focus zeroed in on the obscured yet hauntingly familiar slender limbs twining amidst the obscured sheets and eddies of tangled fabric.

You. That was unmistakably you - spread wide and moaning beneath his punishing rhythm, utterly pliant and receptive to his every demand. Breasts bouncing with the force of each ruthless thrust and a litany of filthy endearments falling from kiss-bruised lips.

"My precious girl..." The entreaty dripped from Sakusa's lust-thickened vocals like hot wax burning along Atsumu's feverish nerve endings. "Made for my cock, weren’t you..."

The barest lilting of a giggle - your giggle - trickled through the veil in response to his sacrilegious edict. But there was a husky, strangled underpinning to the sound that hollowed Atsumu's core with reflexive disquiet. It was the wounded whimper of an innocent, wild thing enduring its domestication against its basest instincts.

Yet the muffled sighs and keens emanating from your prone figure spoke to a far more twisted, deviant truth: that you enjoyed being pinned and conquered. That you longed for someone to tame your wanton desires and bend you into submission, no matter how perverse the demands. A transfixed, horrified voyeur, Atsumu catalogued every sharp intake of breath and arched silhouette as you careened towards your orgasm.

Until finally, your cries crested in a single, visceral peaked that echoed like a gunshot down the empty corridor. Atsumu flinched as your lithe frame bowed bowstring-taut off the bed in convulsing release - translucent liquid dripping from the apex of your quivering thighs in an obscene torrent.

"Yes, just like that..." Sakusa murmured in a sibilant purr dripping with gratified menace. "Cum for me, sweet girl."

For several suspended heartbeats, only your residual whimpers and the steady drip of Atsumu's perspiration disturbed the weighted stillness. Then, the other man finally roused beside your pliant form with the predatory grace of a beast savoring its fresh kill.

Sakusa's imposing silhouette filled the doorway's thin sliver of illumination. Moonlight glazed his heavy-lidded gaze in lurid onyx, rendering those eyes as glinting obsidian pits exuding a feverish, singularly covetous hunger.

Some primitive instinct screamed at Atsumu to retreat before that searing, predatory stare pierced the concealing veil and transfixed him like a butterfly pinned to velvet. But he found himself inexorably magnetized, unable to tear away from the primal force radiating off Sakusa in insistent waves.

One suspended moment seemed to stretch into a sweating eternity, the air thickening with unspoken danger and forbidden temptation. Then the spell shattered - Atsumu gasped as if surfacing from deep waters, staggering backwards in a blind panicked escape.

Sakusa's unvoiced promise of merciless retaliation lapped at his heels like a starving beast while the hallway seemed to constrict around him with every frantic stride. That rapacious, all-consuming pull remained an oppressive miasma nipping at Atsumu's senses until he collapsed against the guest room door, shaking hands sealing him inside.

Only in the safety of smothering blackness did Atsumu allow his rigid composure to fracture. He had been offered an inseverable glimpse behind the veil into your and Sakusa's shadowed world - one of devout obsession and unrestrained carnal possession.

The illusion of your teasing innocence was forever shattered, replaced by that lurid, feverishly blooming allure no sane man could resist gravitating towards in abject fascination and disgust. Atsumu's fixation had been irrevocably seeded, taking root like a devouring parasite festering in the darkest recesses of his psyche.

As his hammering pulse gradually steadied in the gloom, Atsumu could have sworn the shadows themselves seemed to slither with silent, unnerving promise. Prickling awareness ghosted across his nape - carnal tendrils of Sakusa's possessive madness creeping through the ether to beckon Atsumu back towards the ravenous, unknowable depths of his unholy obsession once again.

[prinzrupprecht]

Hi, can I request for Thor from record of Ragnarok being protective of his wife? I've always seen him as a protective type of guy for his lover.

Invasion on Asgard

Sorry took a while to write this! Had to make him a banner and try to not mess up his personality.

Synopsis: Nobody had expected it. A huge army of giants from Jötunheim attacked Asgard with full force. You were ready to die protecting your home, but Thor wouldn’t let that happen.

TW: none—?

WC: 904

You had just left the castle for some fresh air and to explore the lower parts of Asgard alone. Normally you never left the castle. However, Forsetti had tried to stop you from leaving which left you confused but you didn’t listen to him. Did you really need permission? Thor wasn’t anywhere and he would hesitantly let you have your own space if you wanted to be alone, the same with him. He liked his personal space but he never said no to you if you wanted to be by his side. However, today was odd because you had no idea where he was. This wasn’t new to you, he always disappeared for long periods of the day. Being the wife of Thor meant other duties within the castle and getting pestered around the castle by Forsetti or other servants. You rarely saw Loki or Odin which was a good thing.

You wanted to get out after hours of being cooped up in the castle bored and the cats that hung around the room didn’t help much. Thor normally always told you it was better if you’d stay in the castle where it’s safe. He was always quiet and didn't mind ramblings, yet your presence seemed to calm every ounce of his heart and mind.

Your marriage was arranged and neither of you could tolerate each other in the beginning but slowly you both grew attached over time. You were quite the tsundere in the beginning throwing tantrums when things didn’t go your way. He admired how you were hard to control and was the quiet one in the marriage. When a few guards had tried to harm you and that was when he snapped and killed them.

As you were looking at some of the stores and the people walking by you, Asgard was truly a beautiful place outside of the castle. Many people didn’t recognize you as the wife of the strongest Norse god which was a good thing. Thor was known as the strongest warrior and god in Asgard.

Just as you were observing the townsfolk some people began to shout and scream. You looked up and saw maybe almost an army of a hundred of them launching an offensive attack on the capital of Asgard. You had stood in place not knowing if you should turn back or use your magic on them. You were just an ordinary sorcery goddess from a noble family. You had thought of the many times Thor told you to stay out of these situations. This wasn’t the first Asgard has been attacked but this army was much larger than any from the past. You left your staff back at the castle but this didn’t warrant you as useless yet.

Many buildings were being destroyed and this was unlike Thor to not be anywhere in sight. Smoke was filling the area from the city being trampled. You would most likely be outmatched by them. Many of the civilians were being killed and this was causing you to panic on the inside. Did you want to be killed like them? You kept wondering where Thor was and you felt stubborn needing him at this time.

You tried to push your way back, maybe you could grab your staff— but as you were leaving the area you were picked up by one of the giants. You were screaming and demanding to be put down.

It was no use, you began to panic and kept screaming. “Put her down!” You heard his voice shout making your heart beat harder in your chest. You rarely hear him yell or lose his self-control. The giant was stained in an instant and you found yourself falling and thought you were gonna hit the ground but the impact didn’t come. Your body crashed into his to make sure you took less fall damage. His arm wrapped around your back while the other held his hammer.

“Where the hell were you?!” You were pissed and puffing your cheeks out while tears were brimming at the corners of your eyes. You knew Thor was angry that you left the castle because of attacks like this could’ve happened anytime and no guard was with you. It angered him further but he calmed himself letting you down. He wanted to cut the rest of the giants but he needed to keep you safe first.

“Don’t ignore me!” You were being pulled into him and before you knew it, Thor had teleported you both back to the castle.

“Stay here, I’ll be back once I eliminate them.” He stopped himself before leaving. He saw how sad you were. He was itching to kill them all but he pulled your face to his and you were inches away from kissing him.

“I’ll make sure none of them would touch you again." He pressed his lips against yours as if this would be the last you’d see him. It was for a brief moment that you could understand his itch for a worthy fight. Many were risking their lives to save Asgard from falling to ruins. Thor held you close before pulling away to savour his thirst for blood from the giants running rampage.

“Make sure you come back,” you whispered while still being stubborn. This was a trait he liked about you. He smiled and didn’t respond before leaving the castle and you in the dark cold place.

[your-friendly-sociopath]

Running

Platonic yandere alastor x reader

Reader is a deer demon (u got the ears, tail, and lil hoof feet cus I say so)

Part two here three here

Tw: possessive behavior, parental abuse, he a bad boi

Running

That was the one thing you could do right

You had been running all your afterlife

Since the day you fell (literally) at his feet

You suppose being a deer demon helps with your agility and stamina

Running

Currently, you were running through the streets, zigzagging your way through the crowds of demons

Faintly, you could hear the sound of radio static and shrieks

The shrieks of demons that got in his way

Running

That's what you were doing

But why?

Oh, yes

Because of him

He was chasing you

You thought you'd have a little more time before he had realized you were gone

Apparently you were wrong

He noticed right away

You knew he found out from the enraged shrieks of his many, many, shadows

Running

You were running to avoid him

To stay out of his grasp

He's to invasive

Personal space is non-existent to him

He wouldn't let you outside

Or see any of your friends

It was like a prison

Too suffocating

Too much

You hated it

You hated being there, with him

So you ran

Running

The static is getting louder, closer

Running

The shrieks are closer

Running

Is that a shadow in the corner of your eye?

Running

You feel the phantom trace of his claws along your arm, attempting to grab you

Running

Runnin-

Your head is yanked back

His hand in buried in-between your ears

He pulls

Your in the air

Being held up by only the hair on your head

You clench your teeth, holding back a scream of pain

He's pissed

You made him mad

He wouldn't hurt you, right?

He is your father after all

Screaming

You hear distant screams

Wait

Those are your own

Your screaming in pain

His claws dig into your head, blood drips down your brow

Fuck- that hurts a lot

Demons all around run

Running

They are all running

Like you were

You never had a chance though

Alastor wouldn't let you go

Never

You've been told countless times

Why won't you get it?

You're his fawn

You belong to him

Why would he ever let you escape?

You hear him sigh in disappointment

Suddenly, your surrounded by shadows

His shadows

The next moment your in the basement

The cabins basement

The very place you had only just escaped from that morning

Your thrown across the room

Shadows rush to your side, chaining your wrists to the wall behind you

Your furious

But also,

Terrified

You turn your head to hide the tears that leak from your eyes

You hear him sigh again

Then he speaks

"You know my deer, those awful things wouldn't be needed if you had just listened,"

You growled

"Go fuck yourself"

You snap

You're not looking

You know better

He's mad

No

He's furious

You hear him walk closer to you

*SMACK*

Your head is thrown to the side from the force of it

You can feel your cheek throbbing from where he hit you

"Watch you tongue,"

He says cooly

You look at him, for the first time since running

His smile is still in place

But his eyes

They scare you

Then, he walks away

The door slams shut behind him

Your alone in the dark

Trapped

Trapped

Trapped

Alone

Alone

Alone

If only you hadn't ran

Running

Running

Running

"You'll see in due time, my little fawn, this is for you own good."

Aaaaaand done bitches

[dumpsterfire-daydreams]

Dominant Ghost, Submissive Reader, Rough Ghost, Groping, Grinding, Spanking (briefly), TW: Dub-con

Reader POV:

"I’m not asking about him. I’m asking about you. I need to know you want me too.”

His last words echoed in your mind as your stomach erupted in butterflies. The heady scent of cigarette smoke, the invasion of your personal space, his frank admission. It was all starting to make your head spin. Hot breath washing over your neck and calloused hands dropped low on your sides, rubbing delicious circles over your hips. It was all too much to focus through.

A strong current of arousal was threatening to pull you under as the hem of your bathrobe eased on your thighs. And if you didn’t stop this now, there’d be no going back. So, despite the lust beginning to coil in your belly and the rosy flush over your cheeks, you forced yourself to shift away from his advance.

"Ghost, don’t," you gasped, fighting desperately to keep a clear head. "We can't."

You pushed away from the wall and started towards the door. But you only made it a few steps when his hand clamped down on your arm and dragged you right back.

“No,” he snapped, slamming the other against the wall above your shoulder and effectively caging you in place. “You don't get to walk away. I need to know."

His hold dropped to your wrist, yanking your hand to his groin. And no matter how much you resisted, you couldn’t hold back a whispered moan. Your hand pressed against his cock. His excitement, his size. Though the towel remained in place, it left hardly anything to the imagination. Ghost guided your hand over his throbbing length, ensuring you felt every inch of his raging need.

"This," he hissed, lightly thrusting into your palm with a growl. "This is what you've done to me. This is all your fault. And you think I’m just gonna let you walk away? No, you’re not leaving me without an answer. Use your words and tell me what I want to know."

"Ghost, I'm with König," you spoke the words like a mantra. Like a reminder not just for him, but for both of you.

"I didn’t ask who you’re with. I’m asking who you want. Who you need.” He was growling now, arousal and annoyance quickly driving him to frustration. “The other night. When I touched you? When you let me touch you and then tried to cover your ass by begging me to let you go. Did you mean it?”

“Ghost, I-,” you stammered, unsure of what to say.

You couldn’t go there. You couldn’t let him make you go there. You couldn’t let him make you say yes. You and König were still exclusive. Though the idea of a third was on the table, König hadn’t given the greenlight for anything yet. And telling Ghost such a thing was even a possibility would only embolden him further and confuse you both. But Ghost wasn’t backing down. And he wouldn’t settle for silence. You whimpered as he yelled in your face.

“Did you fucking mean it!”

“No!”

The word echoed through the room as both of you froze. You clamped your hands over your mouth in horror, mortified at what you had somehow just said. Where did that even come from? The unfiltered truth had been startled out of you, the word slipping past your lips before your brain could try to stop it. What had you just done? What the hell had you just done?

You shook your head frantically, trying to somehow reverse everything back to five seconds earlier. All this time, he had been wedging his foot in the door, and now you had practically flung it wide open for him. If you couldn’t fend him off then, you were utterly hopeless now.

“Wait,” you rushed, frantically trying to reverse your admission. “That wasn’t what I meant to say, I-”

Ghost growled, the sound vibrating low in his chest, hands seizing your hips in a bruising grip. His nails gouged into your hips as he whipped you around. There was no time to react before your cheek was pressed against the tile wall. Ghost lunged forward, sandwiching you firmly between it and his body. Pinpricks of moisture seeped from his chest, through the thin silk of your robe, and onto your skin as he melded his torso against your back.

“Then what the hell are we waiting for?” he rasped.

Ghost yanked the tie of your robe, causing its front to fall open. You braced for the frigid sting of cold tile. But as soon as your bare skin was made available, two large hands clutched your breasts from behind. Ghost squeezed at the pillowy mounds of flesh, moaning hungrily against your neck. And though the tile was freezing cold, you gasped as your body flooded with intense warmth.

“God, I should have grabbed you the minute I laid eyes on you,” Ghost hummed, rutting against you. “You fucking tease.”

You whimpered at the friction, his girth thrusting against your ass. It seemed König had some competition because Ghost clearly wasn’t lacking when it came to size. The firm protrusion occasionally slipped beneath your robe, giving him a rush of added heat through the towel. You could feel him snarl and shudder at your back. His hips snapped forward, desperate for more of the same. The unexpected forcefulness slamming you against the tile.

“Ghost, wait!” You had to work hard to even get the words out past your own sounds of pleasure. But you knew you had to do something.

“No more waiting,” he panted, tossing his towel to the floor and letting out a loud moan when he could finally feel your bare skin against his cock. “I want you now.”

“No, wait! Just let me explain, please!”

With an exasperated sigh, he stilled. “You have thirty seconds. And I’m not stopping again, so you better make it good.”

He didn’t back off of you. His length remained firmly pressed against your ass and his hands fused to your body. But they dropped down to your waist and went still as he awaited your monologue. Not wanting to waste any time or risk him cutting you off, you rushed into your speech.

“Yes, I’m attracted to you! And yes, I want you too! But just before he left for practice, König admitted he’s really into threesomes and stuff. He wants to add a third to our relationship, okay? So if you just let me get my phone and let me ask him first, then we can do this with a clear conscience. Okay? Please? Then we’ll have all of this out in the open. If he agrees with it, you could be our third!”

Ghost paused, thinking the idea over. If he wanted to, he could flat out refuse and take you right there against the bathroom wall. Nothing was stopping him. And when he pressed in on you again, you assumed that was the option he had chosen.

"Where's your phone?" He huffed.

"In my room," you rushed. "It's in my room, on the bed!"

“Fine,” He whispered, gripping your waist painfully tight in his hands, lowering his mouth to your ear. “Don’t. Move. I’m gonna go get your phone. But I want your ass right where I left you when I come back. If you take so much as one step, I’ll know. Clear?”

“Okay,” you whimpered, your boldness quickly faltering. But you yelped in shock when he slapped your ass.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d been promoted to captain.”

Though his voice was saturated with sarcasm, the dry military humor was completely lost on you. You just stood there, stumbling for words until he finally spelled it out for you.

“I outrank you, princess,” Ghost hissed. “Always have, always will. So when I ask you a question, you say ‘yes sir’. Are we clear?”

Your face burned at the bold request, his brazen display of dominance sending a thrill of anticipation down your spine. It immediately snapped your inner submissive to attention, prompting you to quickly drop your eyes and comply.

“Y-yes, sir.”

A soft growl of approval was all you got in response. He gave your ass one final squeeze before he backed away and sauntered out of the bathroom.

Just as Ghost had directed, you obediently stayed exactly as he left you: cheek against the wall and robe hanging loosely around your body. You hadn’t heard the door close on his way out, so he’d left it wide open. And it was probably intentional. You hoped that no one else would come wandering through the barracks within the next few minutes. If another member of his team happened to wander through the barracks, you’d be in full view. A simple glance would reveal you standing there practically naked and standing directly in line with the doorway. The thought was mortifying, but that fear was likely the exact thing Ghost wanted you to feel. A bold exhibition of your obedience and complete submission to him. A clear reminder of who was in control and who was not. If such a thing happened, he’d probably get some twisted thrill out of it.

All of that in mind, you were beyond grateful when the sound of his footsteps returned to the room. And you were even more relieved when you heard the door swing shut behind him. But as soon as it had, you detected the unmistakable click of the lock turning. That one act posed as a double-edged sword. It meant there’d be no unwanted witnesses to your current state. But it also implied there’d be no escape for you. Yet another reminder of who wielded authority here.

As he nonchalantly entered your field of view, you could see that he’d kept his word. Ghost had your phone in hand and was lazily pacing back and forth behind you. And even though you desperately wanted to grab it, you knew better than to stray from your post. So you set your jaw and tried to be patient.

"Passcode?" Ghost barked, turning the lock screen toward you.

From his tone alone, you knew it wasn't a request. It was a command. So you hurriedly recited the four digit code to unlock your phone. And once you heard the soft click as it opened, you hoped he would finally pass it to you. But Ghost was in no hurry. He was taking his sweet time looking at doing who knows what, occasionally commenting on things he found particularly amusing.

"Really?" He asked, derisively.

"What?"

"Your background. You're one of those girls, huh? A furry?"

You blushed, knowing exactly what he was talking about. König had sent you a cute selfie a while ago. And you'd decided to edit it for fun. By the time you were finished with it, he had pink cat ears on his helmet, little whiskers sticking out of his hood, and a fluffy white tail. His helmet was decorated with various pink and purple hearts and small rainbows. It had been an inside joke the two of you had spent hours laughing over, so you'd saved it as your phone background for kicks.

"No," you said, letting out a nervous giggle. "It was just a joke."

Ghost shrugged, but he kept stalling and you kept fuming. He was taunting you and he was well aware of it. He was trying to drive you so mad with curiosity that you’d defy his order and step away from the wall. He wanted you to fail and you knew swift punishment would follow the split second you did. So you bit your lip and screwed your eyes shut, doing your best to block him out. Now, you could see him pressing buttons and typing.

"Ghost, what are you doing on my phone?"

"Nothing," he chuckled, swiping closed whatever application he had been in. "Added myself to your contacts for you. Just in case."

Ghost drew out the torturous suspense a bit while longer. But eventually, he returned to his previous position at your back.

“Since you behaved,” he hummed, tugging you back against his body. “You wanna text him now?”

You nodded hesitantly, keeping your movements small and slight. “Yes, sir.”

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl,” he chuckled. “I’m going to enjoy training you, princess. At ease, here you go.”

You slowly turned, head tilted back to watch his face in case this was just another ploy of his. But he didn’t stop you. He simply opened your messages, opened the conversation with König, and passed the phone to you. Then, he settled in to watch the suspenseful scene play out from above. Being half naked, locked in a bathroom, trapped between a wall and a massive man? All of those things were making it increasingly difficult to stay calm or focus. But as you began composing your message, you did your very best to muscle through. Now was not the time to be distracted.

You: Hey, love. I had an idea for the throuple thing you mentioned earlier?

Since König was still at practice, you knew there'd be at least a minute or two before he could reply. But fortunately, a text bubble appeared shortly afterward.

König: Sure. What's on your mind, Maus?

You: Well, I was wondering how you would feel about Ghost being our third. If you're okay with that, can I ask him?

König: Of course! He was my first pick too! That's actually what I was gonna ask you about later. So that's fine by me.

You: Okay. And if he says yes? Do I need to wait for you before… before doing anything with him?

Now that you were the one anxiously awaiting an answer, you could understand Ghost insistently pressing you for one earlier. The waiting, the not knowing? It was awful and it made you so anxious. And your heart hammered in your chest to see how he would respond. But when he did, there was no way to misconstrue his thoughts on the matter.

König: Not at all! Just tell me all about it later. Have fun, Maus!

I know this story includes some pretty intense themes. But at the end of the day, I care more about the well-being of my readers than I do for hits or kudos. Period. I never want my writing to conjure up emotions or feelings that negatively impact you beyond the story. This story is intended strictly for fun and fantasy. If at any point along the way it stops being a pleasurable experience, please please close this page and walk away. My stories are never worth your well-being, loves.

[femsolid]

TW: Trans activists

For more than a decade now, trans activists have been harassing those who belong to a feminist philosphy we call radical feminism or the women’s liberation movement.

Radical feminists, like most feminists, believe that men use sex to oppress women. Meaning they oppress women through sexual exploitation and by perpetuating sexist discrimination towards those who belong to the female sex. They were the first to research and expose violence against women as endemic and traumatizing, and to create shelters for rape and domestic violence victims. Those shelters are now being vandalized and defunded by trans activists.

Because radical feminists don’t believe in gender identities, gendered souls, gender roles or any form of innate personality based on sexist stereotypes, they have been receiving rape and death threats on a daily basis. The acronym “terf” was soon invented and is now used to describe any person who doesn’t support the trans movement, even if they’re not feminists, just as long as they're women, though lesbians and feminists tend to be the primary targets.

As a whole, the trans movement claims that its biggest enemy and threat, its most pressing matter, its most dangerous opponent is the women’s liberation movement or what they call “radfems” or “terfs”. This is where their energy and anger is directed, typically in the form of sexist and sexual harassment, intimidation techniques, violence, censorship and social isolation. So let’s talk about that.

From the book Hate Crimes in Cyberspace:

Cyber harassment involves threats of violence, privacy invasions, reputation-harming lies, calls for strangers to physically harm victims, and technological attacks.

Victims’ in-boxes are inundated with threatening e-mails. Their employers receive anonymous e-mails accusing them of misdeeds. Even if some abuse is taken down from a site, it quickly reappears on others. Victims’ sites are forced offline with distributed-denial-of-service attacks.

While some attackers confine abuse to networked technologies, others use all available tools to harass victims, including real-space contact. Offline harassment or stalking often includes abusive phone calls, vandalism, threatening mail, and physical assault.

The Internet extends the life of destructive posts. Harassing letters are eventually thrown away, and memories fade in time. The web, however, can make it impossible to forget about malicious posts. And posts that go viral attract hundreds of thousands of readers.

Online harassment can quickly become a team sport, with posters trying to outdo each other. Posters compete to be the most offensive, the most abusive. An accurate name for such online groups is cyber mobs. The term captures both the destructive potential of online groups and the shaming dynamic at the heart of the abuse.

Cyber harassment disproportionately impacts women. The U.S. National Violence Against Women Survey reports that 60 percent of cyber stalking victims are women, and the National Center for Victims of Crimes estimates that the rate is 70 percent. Of the 3,393 individuals reporting cyber harass-ment to WHOA from 2000 to 2011, 72.5 percent were female. The most recent Bureau of Justice Statistics report found that 74 percent of individuals who were stalked on or offline were female, and 26 percent were male.

Researchers found that users with female names received on average one hundred “malicious private messages,” which the study defined as “sexually explicit or threatening language,” for every four received by male users.

According to the study, “Male human users specifically targeted female users.” By contrast, men are more often attacked for their ideas and actions. John Scalzi, a science fiction author and popular blogger, has found online invective typically situational. When he writes something that annoys people, they tell him so. People do not make a “hobby” out of attacking his appearance and existence as they do female bloggers.

The nature of the attacks similarly attests to bigotry’s presence. Hate expresses something uniquely damaging. It labels members of a group as inhuman “others” who do not possess equal worth. It says that group members are inferior and damaged. Bigotry conveys the message that group members are objects that can be destroyed because they have no shared humanity to consider.

Cyber harassment exploits these features by exposing victims’ sexuality in humiliating ways. Victims are equated with their sexual organs, often described as diseased.

Once cyber harassment victims are sexually exposed, posters penetrate them virtually with messages that say “I will fuck your ass to death you filthy fucking whore, your only worth on this planet is as a warm hole to stick my cock in.” 

Rape threats profoundly impact women: over 86 percent of rape victims are female. Virtual elimination may follow the imagined penetration: “First I’ll rape you, then I’ll kill you.”

One woman who faced online abuse noted, “Someone who writes ‘You’re just a cunt’ is not trying to convince me of anything but my own worthlessness.” Despite the gravity of their predicaments, cyber harassment victims are often told that nothing can or should be done about online abuse. Journalists, bloggers, lay observers, and law enforcement officials urge them to ignore it. Victims are called “whiny baby girl[s]” who are overreacting to “a few text messages.” Often victims are blamed for the abuse. They are scolded for sharing their nude images with loved ones or for blogging about controversial topics. They are told that they could have avoided the abuse had they been more careful.

A related message sent to victims is that the benefits of online opportunities are available only to those who are willing to face the Internet’s risks. They are advised not to expect anything different if they want to make a name for themselves online. The choice is theirs: they can toughen up or go offline.

The Internet is governed by society’s rules. Life online bleeds into life offline and vice versa. The notion that more aggression should be tolerated in cyberspace than in real space presumes that virtual spaces are cordoned off from physical ones.

Most victims do not report cyber harassment to the police because they assume that nothing will be done about it. Sadly, they are right. Law enforcement frequently fails to act on victims’ complaints even though criminal law would punish some of the behavior. Victims are told to turn off their computers because “boys will be boys.” Online harassment victims are told that nothing can be done; they are advised to ignore rape and death threats. During the summer of 2013, high-profile women were subjected to a torrent of online threats. The feminist activist Caroline Criado Perez received hundreds of graphic rape threats via Twitter after her successful campaign to feature more female images on British banknotes.

Members of Parliament and female writers who publicly supported Criado-Perez faced the same, including bomb threats. One tweet featured a picture of a masked man holding a knife with the message, “I’m gonna be the first thing u see when u wake up.”

Because the Internet serves as people’s workspaces, professional networks, résumés, social clubs, and zones of public conversation, it deserves the same protection as offline speech. No more, no less.

Without doubt, the free speech interests at stake are weighty. Free expression is crucial to our ability to govern ourselves, to express our thoughts, and to discover truths. For that reason, government cannot censor ideas because society finds them offensive. Truthful speech must not be banned just because it makes people uncomfortable.

But credible threats, certain defamatory falsehoods, social security numbers, and nude images posted without consent contribute little to discourse essential for citizens to govern themselves and discover truths. Their net effect is the silencing of victims. Victims could blog, post videos, and engage on social networks without fear of destructive cyber harassment. They could raise money using networked tools unencumbered by rape threats, reputation-harming lies, and distributed- denial- of- service attacks. They could take advantage of all of the expressive opportunities available online. Protecting against online harassment would secure the necessary preconditions for victims’ free expression.

With the help of law and the voluntary efforts of Internet intermediaries, parents, and teachers, we might someday achieve a free and equal Internet. We need to take action before cyber harassment becomes a normal feature of online interactions. A hostile online environment is neither inevitable nor desirable. We should not squander this chance to combat discriminatory online abuse; it is early enough in our use of networked tools to introduce equality of opportunity as a baseline norm of interaction.

[whumping-valentine]

Aliens + Whump 👽

Alien whumpee who gets captured by a scientist who wants to study them.

Alien whumpee who crash lands in the woods, and is found by a crazed conspiracy theorist who wants to keep them trapped in their home all for themself, scared the government is going to take them away.

Alien whumpee who crash lands in the woods, and is found by an alien enthusiast. They help tend to their wounds while learning all about alien biology. Maybe caretaker is also a mechanic and tries to help repair their ship to get them home.

Alien whumpee who's the size of an apple. A group of immature teens put it in a shoe box and take it home. Maybe there's multiple. You know that Hamster Hell YouTube video? Yeah, basically that but with small aliens. (TW: claymation animal abuse if you click the link)

Alien whumpee who's a part of an invasion program that's incredibly taxing. The training program treats them like living weapons, who's only goal is to compete the invasion for their leaders. They're nothing more than discardable drones. Perhaps the alien successfully infiltrates human culture, and in the midst of their deception they get a little too lost in the role. Is this still a part of the act, or have they come to care for these humans they're supposed to be invading? Perhaps the humans are much more thoughtful than their own. Perhaps Earth has become their home... (I'm absolutely obsessed with an Invader Zim AU of this idea you guys)

Alien whumper who kidnaps one person from each planet they invade, collecting various species like they're trophies.

Alien whumper who gets obsessed with a particular person from their recent invasion, deciding to take them back to their home planet to keep them as a pet.

Alien whumper who's job it is to travel space and study planets' most intelligent species. They're do this in less than ethical ways, and, unbeknownst to their boss, may smuggle one back to continue their studies off the clock.

Alien caretaker who finds themself having to care for a creature (be it human or otherwise) that they aren't too sure of. There's a language barrier, and they have no idea what biology the creature has. But they have to try.

[chronicbeans]

Reader seeing Alastor Frowning

This was just an idea I came up with after seeing the new teaser, where Alastor explains his smile. I thought "what'd he be like if someone caught him frowning?" Then my brain immediately went "NOT GOOD." So, little story!

TW: Threats of Violence/Death, Invasion of Personal Space

You walk through the hallway of the Hazbin Hotel. You have only been here for a few days, so you are still getting lost when trying to find your way around the place. The hallways all kind of blend into each other, at some point, and you've already forgotten where your room is. Much worse is the fact that you are a bit lost on where you are in the hotel. So, you begin wandering aimlessly, hoping to find someone that can help you.

It seems like, either nobody is at the hotel right now, or nobody comes to this part of the hotel... because you haven't found anybody, yet. You're honestly a bit frightened. That is, until, you see a door that is cracked open. Seeing some light coming through, you are so excited that you peek through to see if anybody is there. It's Alastor's room.

You see the front half, which looks like a hunter's cabin, and a tiny bit of the half in the back that has some... grass? Your eyes are immediately drawn to Alastor, though. He's sitting in front of his fireplace, staring at the ominous green flames, as it casts a sickly glow on his face. His expression is a bit empty as he stares at it, as if he's staring somewhere beyond the fire, or as if his mind is somewhere completely different than the present.

The most shocking thing, though, is that he's frowning. Alastor is frowning. It doesn't even look like he's just resting his face, either. He looks genuinely upset. It's quite a shock, truly, since you haven't seen him frown before. Granted, you've only been here a few days, but you've heard others saying that they've never seen him frown either. Others who have been at the hotel much longer than you...

You lean a bit closer, trying to get a better look, and see if you can figure out what has made him so upset... only to cringe as you hear the door creak a bit more open. Alastor immediately stands, closing a book in his lap as he does so, then looks over to you. The smile is back on his face, though much more strained then usual. You've been spotted and he doesn't look happy with your presence.

"You know that it's rude to spy on people, right, dear?"

You tense up as he steps towards you, his eyes seemingly beginning to glow. You've messed up... you've really, really messed up! Panicking, you begin to run down the hall. However... You still have no idea where you're going, and you can still hear Alastor's footsteps following behind you. When you look to see how close he is, though, you don't even see him.

You look back in front of you just in time to see that he's now in front of you. He instantly grabs you by the shoulders, holding you against the wall and covering your mouth with one hand. "Now now, dear! Calm down. We can talk this out like reasonable adults, yes? There's no need for all the running and panic, even if it is fun to chase you around."

Alastor then chuckles, before letting go of your mouth. You quickly begin talking, but keep your voice quiet. "Look...! I didn't know you'd get so upset-" "Hush. No need for the excuses. I just want a little deal to make sure you don't speak a word of you seeing me without my lovely smile on." "It's just a smile..." He then let's out a fake gasp. His grip on your shoulder tightens a little, causing you to grimace a bit. "My dear...! Just a smile? You're never fully dressed without a smile! Now, listen up. I'm giving you one offer."

His grin suddenly relaxes a little, seeming much more calm, like he's in control. He then boops your nose, speaking. "You don't say a single word about my sour expression that you just saw..." Then, he points to himself, his nails now digging into your shoulder. "And I don't shred you apart and use you in my next batch of delicious jambalaya! Deal, dear?" You nod slowly, your eyes going wide as they stare up at him. "Yeah... Deal. I won't tell anyone..." "Fantastic, dear!"

Alastor immediately lets you go, taking a step back. His eyes are still staring at you, almost like how a starving wolf would its prey... or, in this case, a starving deer... You rub your shoulder, shaken up by what has just happened. He laughs a bit as he grabs his microphone, which you hadn't even noticed he had with him in your frenzy, before chirping happily. "You're lucky that you're so new here, my dear, or else I wouldn't have been so lenient on you. I like those who have manners, but I am not so cruel as to punish you cruelly without giving you proper time to learn." He then taps your sore shoulder with his microphone, adding on "That shoulder there should be good enough, this time."

You swallow thickly, clearing your throat. "Yeah... um... thanks... I'm going to go to my room, now. By the way, have you seen any of the others?" His demeanor instantly shifts, again, as he wraps an arm around you. "Of course I know! Charlie has went to visit her dead beat father. Husker, Angel Dust, and my dear Niffty went on a little outing to try to convince a few more sinners to come to the Hazbin Hotel. Vaggie has been in her room all day, and the snake fellow went to buy some more parts for his inventions." You simply nod, before gently pushing him away and beginning to walk down the hallway.

"Dear, don't you need someone to show you to your room? You're lost, aren't you?" He then walks over to you as you pause in place. How did he know...? "I am... but, I'll find my way-" He grabs your wrist, dragging you along. "Nonsense! I'll show you the way! As a member of the staff here, it's only right I help the guests find their way about!"

Thus, your uncomfortable walk with Alastor begins. Whenever you look over to him, you find him staring at you, like he's trying to figure out what to do with you now that you've seen him frowning. Why the hell is he so upset about it? It's just a facial expression! It's completely normal to frown...

Once you make it to your room, you quickly scurry inside as if it were a lifeline. He stands in your doorway for a moment, his hand on the doorknob. Before closing the door, he gives you one last little warning. "I'll be keeping a closer eye on you from now on, dear. I have to make sure you hold up your end of our deal, after all."

[tma-reader-inserts]

Elias Bouchard x Hunt Avatar! Reader

Tw: cannibalism

Being one of the file storage and reference section assistants at the Magnus Institute is not a glamorous job. It’s a lot like being a librarian, which is what you got your degree in (along with a minor in folklore), so at least the filing system is familiar to you, and you’re not saddled with unnecessary responsibility like Diana is being the head of the department.

Fortunately, your boss, Mr. Bouchard, is very understanding. You couldn’t control others actions, and as long as something gets returned he’s not too upset over the matter.

He often came to check up on you, to take your inventory report personally and give a stern talking to to those who fail to return their borrowed material. It was nice, to know your boss was looking out for you, to have some backing. People don’t really take you seriously, with your meek nature, at least Mr. Bouchard did.

Jon was concerning you, though. He’s been visiting more and more often, ever since the Prentiss incident. He’s been asking slightly invasive questions since he’s learned you worked closely with his predecessor right before her death. You even think he’s been following you after work; which is highly worrying because of your… odd habits.

You pray he hasn’t noticed your trips to the butcher.

—

You were entering fight or flight when Jon locked the door to the storage room, and were in full on panic mode when he stomped over to you and demanded you answer for your strange eating habits. How you never ate lunch at the Institute but visit a certain unreputable butcher every other day.

He crowded up to you so closely you could count the worm scars the littered his tan skin.

“Do you have any idea how often that shop appears in statements? How- how many people disappear there? You must know, you work here!” He yells, eyes alight with fury.

You curl into yourself, fear stilling your to tongue. You were never good with men yelling at you.

“Gertrude was investigating the place before she died, did you do something to her to keep going there?” He accuses.

The blood drains from your face. You for sure never harmed a hair on Gertrude Robinson’s head. You’re not sure if you even could back when she was alive. But yes she was investigating your butcher. Yes. Even she confronted you about it, and just like when she accused you of your… strange diet, you flinch at Jon’s words.

You felt hot tears well up in your eyes. You were now fully afraid of your coworker. Gone was the hard core skeptic, the ineffable Jonathan Sims and in his place was a maniac.

“It’s not like that-“ you stutter out. “I never laid a hand on Gertrude-“

“She was shot! You wouldn’t need to touch her!” He continues. You felt sick to your stomach as he continues to rave.

You couldn’t tell him that there was no way you killed Gertrude, that as soon as you even smelled blood you lose control of yourself. If you killed Gertrude, she wouldn’t have just bullet wounds.

You were seconds away from sobbing, so terrified of Jon and how close his accusations were, ready to spill your guts and let him call the police or the press or maybe he’d just try and kill you the same way Gertrude did-

The door broke open, and in hastily strolled a very angry looking Elias Bouchard. You shook with relief and a shaky breath rattled through your body. A firm, ring adorned hand was placed on Jon’s shoulder and the Archivist was pulled away from your personal space.

You weren’t even registering what Elias was scolding Jon for, but after some rebuttal from the archivist and back and forth from both men, Jon eventually left in a huff. After he slammed the door closed, the tears in your eyes finally spilled.

Elias was quickly by your side, his voice was sturdy, and his hand rubbed your back in a comforting manner.

“It’s alright, my dear, let it out.” He hums. “Let us retreat to my office, give you some privacy to calm down, hmm?”

—

One cup of tea and a box of tissues later, you’re now sniffling helplessly in Elias’s office. He waits for you patiently to calm down, as you alternate between wiping your cheeks and sipping your earl grey.

When it’s seems you’ve finally settled enough, your employer speaks.

“I am truly sorry for Jonathan’s actions. It seems that he’s not quite himself since the Prentiss incident, although that is no excuse for his behavior.”

One thing you’ve always like about your boss was how he was concise with his words and how put together he was. Nothing seemed to get to him. Always prim and eloquent.

You sigh heavily, the fear and sadness in your system expelling itself through the breath. “It… I’m fine now, I guess. I’ve never seen Jon act so… erratically.”

Elias nods, a warm hand placed itself on your knee. “Erratic is one way of putting it, I suppose.” There was a beat of silence before Elias removed his hand and settled his gaze on you. “Jon does raise a fair question, in regards to your relation to the butcher shop you visit.”

Your heart stops, and you felt very sick.

“The shop in question is central to several statements over the years, not to mention has been investigated by the police many times for related and unrelated reasons.” He says easily. “Is there a particular reason you frequent this specific shop?”

You couldn’t exactly tell your boss that it’s one of the only butchers near your house that can supply your high demand for copious different kinds of meat and blood; that it’s certainly the only place that doesn’t question why you need so much. That it feels safe to you because the owner can smell the strange on you and doesn’t curl away in fear the way most do.

“… I… have a crush on the butcher.” You lie. It’s an awful lie, you sound horrifically unsure of yourself and you could feel the bead of sweat roll down your temple traitorously. Not to mention it felt gross to even say it.

Elias raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “The man is well above you in age.” He points out. How he knows that off handedly is beyond you but you don’t dare question his knowledge right now.

“… I’m into older men.” Not a lie, exactly. You felt some peace with yourself with this truth exposed.

He tilts his head in consideration before sighing. “Be that as it may; you’re still not telling me the whole truth.” He says sharply.

You flinch, and cast your eyes downward.

“It’s-“ you choke on your words. “It’s a lot more complicated than that.” You confess lowly, under your breath. “I can’t tell you, I-I just can’t.” You sigh roughly, pointedly looking away from the man across from you. “You wouldn’t believe me, anyhow.”

Your wording intrigued Elias, as he leaned in closer to you, the perfect expression of sympathy on his face. “We work here, my dear, I’m sure I’ve heard for more unfathomable tales.”

A frown yanks the corners of your mouth downwards as you try not to start crying again. You’ve kept your secret so close to you all these years, so afraid of how people would react. How it would change others perception of you. You’re more afraid of speaking the incident aloud than of the incident itself, and the idea of confession finally chokes you up.

The hand returns to you knee as Elias says you name, so tenderly it makes you ache. “You’re safe here.” He urges. “Think of it like a statement; we’ll lock it away and keep it hidden from public.”

That… does assure you a bit. You’ve had people confess to murders here. It is the Magnus Institute after all.

“I… I don’t want it investigated.” You murmur, one hand of yours coming to your mouth in anxiousness. “There isn’t anything left to investigate, there’s no point.”

The older man nods in understanding all too readily. “I understand.”

You felt like you were going to throw up. You’ve never even toyed with the notion of confessing of what happened to you, now here you were, locked in your boss’s office, tea lukewarm and you ready to let your heart bleed.

“I was… six or seven, I can’t be sure.” You start. “My family has relatives in Canada, on my fathers side. We always visited them around the end of summer, and we’ve been going there so often that even as a child I was familiar with their land. We usually rented a small cabin in the woods not far from my uncle’s house and we’d stay there for a few weeks; me and my parents.

“We didn’t usually sleep in the cabin truthfully, we tented out in the wood by the place. It’d be right before hunting season and the forest would be littered with all kinds of animals that my dad would hunt idly with the assortment of guns his brother owned. We ate off of deer and rabbit and-“ you laugh at the memory, “squirrels if you can believe it. Anything dad could catch. We’d eat the wild berries and vegetables and fish from the creek. It was… nice.” You sigh, thinking of your father’s methodical hands as he skinned rabbits and your mother’s careful explanations of identifying plants that were safe to eat.

You swallowed thickly, preparing to speak of the unfortunate bit. “One night, we heard a noise. Nothing that would indicate… the danger that followed… but somewhere nearby there was something snapping twigs as it walked. It sounded so close.” You shudder.

“My father grabbed one of the guns near him and went to investigate. That was the last I ever saw of him. His last word were ‘wait here.’” Your eyes glass over as you relived your memories, and Elias moves his chair closer to you, nodding for you to continue. “He never even had the chance to shoot the gun. So deep in the shadows I didn’t see him- see him get killed.” You choked up again.

“My mother grabbed me and ran. She apparently saw something I didn’t and lugged me up into her arms and started to sprint to the tree line, to the cabin. But she tripped. I fell from her embrace and she was dragged back into the darkness.” The recollection was making you numb, and perhaps now it was easier to speak of your trauma. “I don’t think she had time to scream. To plead or beg, because I felt warm liquid splash on my face mere moments after I managed to stand up.

“I didn’t want to run, I was too scared too. Evidently that’s was the best choice. The thing that had killed my parents finally emerged from the darkness. I couldn’t see it clearly, but it loomed over me so greatly in height I thought it was a moving tree. Its limbs were long and thin, like bones or branches, and it was almost red with how richly brown it was. I couldn’t see its face, but I saw red droplets fall from somewhere above me.

“I-I’m not sure why exactly it didn’t kill me. Maybe because I wasn’t moving. Maybe it could only see me if I moved and I was so still I was sure my heart had stopped all together. It just… walked away from me; slowly, snapping branches and twigs underfoot as it retreated back into the woods… I wish that was the end of it.” You sigh.

“I spent hours in the woods, days. I was so lost I couldn’t find the tree line at all. I couldn’t even find our camp site.

Whatever direction my mother started to run in was wrong, and I was sure it spelt my doom. I’m not sure how long I wandered in the daylight but I eventually found a cave, a large tree sticking out from the mouth.

“Well, I thought it was a tree at first. Until I saw it move. I heard no noises in the area. No birds, or bugs, or animals. Like they were all afraid of being in the vicinity of this great beast; and my parents and I were just too stupid to sense the danger.

“I was… so mad, seeing it. I was furious. This… thing destroyed my life and it was sleeping! It was resting as if my parent’s bodies weren’t in its stomach. I’m not sure what possessed me; a very child like rage, I’m sure, and the determination to get back at it, somehow. To make us even. It ate my parents.” You clipped coldly. “I was wanted to eat it.”

Elias watched you patiently. And you continued.

“It must’ve been used to not being disturbed while it slept. So used to being left alone that it didn’t notice me at all as I crawled into the cave. When I crawled in as far as I could until its mass was so large it plugged the cave. I had no weapon, I had nothing sharp, not even a stone or a stick, but I was so angry and so hungry…” you hiss.

“I… I didn’t know what to expect of it. It looked leathery, but when I dug my fingers in between what I thought was it’s rib, the flesh gave away easily, with hardly any resistance at all, like pulling slow cooked meat off the bone.” You swallow here. And Elias looks at you with rapt attention.

“How did it taste?” He inquires, voice not above a whisper, and you answer.

“… it was the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

You confess, eyes closing tightly, trying to conjure the experience to your mind. “It was so rich, and soft and warm. I kept pulling bits and bits off of it until there was a hole in its side, and I could see into its hollow chest cavity. It… ignited something in me. A fierce kind of hunger. It felt like I’ve never eaten since before that moment and I was starved. I just… kept eating. Pulling meat from its arm, its legs, the fingers. I must’ve spent hours slowly feasting away on this creature, piece by piece consuming it. It never woke up, never even stirred. I wondered if it died in its sleep as I licked my fingers between bites. I ate more than I thought possible, more than I should have been able to feasibly consume. I ate everting I could reach until all that remained was a skeleton, a black, brittle skeleton that cracked easily when I knocked into them too hard.

“When there was nothing left to eat, I was still so, so hungry. It was like I didn’t even pick away at the monster for hours on end. I crawled out of the cave on my hands and knees. There was still no sound of life in the woods.

“… I don’t remember being found. They say I was missing for weeks. They say a mountain lion killed my parents because their corpses were found mangled in the trees.” You scoff, bitterly, eyes welling with tears. “It never actually ate them. It killed them. For fun. And now I’m… this.” You gesture ruefully to yourself.

“What are you now?” Elias asks gently, hand never once leaving your knee.

You sniffle. “I don’t know. When I managed to come back to England, to be placed in the care of my grandparents, it was obvious I wasn’t… normal, anymore. I couldn’t manage to eat anything for the first few weeks, I kept throwing it all up. And whatever I managed to keep down, it never satisfied me. I always felt so hungry, so… hollow. I was almost dying of malnutrition, when in a fit of starvation I tore into a package of raw ground beef. For the first time since being in Canada, I could feel my stomach being to fill and take to the food, even if it was bloody, raw meat.”

You laugh ruefully next, the sound not even startling your boss. “When my grandmother found out, she told me I was better to starve to death than be that… some kind of freak, monster.” You look away to let the tears fall freely. “My grandfather thought a monster of a grandchild was better than no grandchild at all, so he moved me and himself to the country side, where he could feed me in peace. Live cattle and lots of butcher shops. A place where no one really noticed when a pig or sheep go missing.” You wiped at your face as you calmed down. “I grew up relatively normal besides that. Got good grades in school. Had friends. My grandfather was willing to experiment with my diet to see what I could eat and how to disguise my meals.”

Elias nods along. “What else can you eat?”

Shrugging, you answer. “Raw foods. Non processed vegetables, fruit, and grains, although they only curb the hunger pangs, I could eat pounds of them and never be full. Eating… live animals is what fills me up best.” You confess carefully, trying to gauge Elias’s reaction without fully looking at him. “Raw meat is more convenient, easier to buy and to consume in peace.”

There was a moment of silence as Elias considers your words before speaking. “What do you mean by, ‘best’?”

You look to him, confused.

“You said live animals is what satisfies you best, but does it satisfy you enough? Does it actually fill you up?”

A tremor of fear wiggles down your spine. In for a penny you assume

“No.” You answer honestly. “I’ve… never actually been ‘full’ since before the accident. Meat helps greatly but…” you trail off, afraid to finish your thought.

Elias speaks for you. “Is it because it’s animal meat? Do you think of you ate other meat, it would fill you?”

‘Other meat.’ What a funny way of saying humans.

Your face twitches in to a scowl before you answer. “I know it would.” You sigh again, fresh tears forming along your wet line. “I know if I ate human meat I would finally be full, but…”

Elias nods. “But you’re not sure if you’d be able to stop yourself.” He concludes. And you shake your head negatively.

“Not that.” You whisper, dread filling your voice. You finally look into Elias’s eye and almost burst into tears when you confess your greatest sin. “I know I can stop because I have before.”

This stills Elias, but you barrel through, afraid if you stop you’d never be able to say it again.

“A man followed me home after my grandfathers funeral. All the way from the burial to town. I thought he had left but, when I went into an alley for a shortcut to the house, he-he attacked me.” Your breath hastened as you recall the details. “He said awful, awful things to me. Called me all sorts of names and said what he was going to do to me. I haven’t been that scared since my parents died, and-“ you gasp, “and I just- I chased him.”

Elias’s eye brows scrunched together in confusion. “You didn’t run away?”

You shook your head. “I bolted at him. I was so scared but also so furious, I couldn’t believe someone was trying to accost me on the worst day of my life, and I just,” you shrugged, “I took after him. He wasn’t expecting that and ran away, but the more he ran, the more it felt like I needed to chase him. It was like it was the only thing I could do, the only logical decision. I’m my head was just a mantra of ‘catch, catch, catch,’ so I kept running in the town’s back alleys. He didn’t hit a dead end, didn’t trip; I pounced at him and-“

You swallow again, mouth thick with saliva. “I caught him by the throat. I tore it out like it was nothing. He didn’t even have time to scream.” You whisper, horrified. “As I chewed on his flesh, felt it slid down my throat into my stomach, I could feel it. That this is what I needed to finally be full. This is what the creature tasted like all those years ago.” you shudder. Ashamed, you turned from Elias, hiding your tearful face into your hands, but you couldn’t stop taking now. “I-I didn’t know what to do. It re-sparked a hunger in me and I was digging into his stomach when I finally gathered my wits and ran away. No one could see the blood on my black dress and gloves and my face was covered by a veil.

“When I got home I scrubbed every inch of my body to rid it of blood and burned my clothes, I ended up eating a sow I was so famished. It felt so… good. To chase, to hunt. It felt like I should’ve been doing it my whole life. Like I was born to take down prey. Like I was a spoiled house cat, finally in the woods hunting mice.” The analogy makes you pause. You weren’t a cat, and other people weren’t rodents, but it was the closest and less gory way of verbalising your emotions.

When you were done, you eyes Elias carefully. This was it. He could have you put into prison, the looney bin. You confessed to monstrosities and crimes that have been weighing you down for years, and now Elias Bouchard was going to judge you.

The man nods, and considers his words.

“And the butcher?” He questions.

“He knew my grandfather.” You say, “He’s been helping to feed me since I was a child. He knows all about me and my… condition. Goes out of his way to get, uh, exotic meats to keep me fed.”

Elias nods again. Snatching a tissue from the box, the man dabs away your tears and looks at you in what seems to be acceptance and sympathy.

“Well, no wonder why you were so anxious about Jon confronting you.” He mumbled to himself, pushing your mused hair out of your face.

“Will you tell anyone?” You whisper, terrified of the answer.

He shakes his head. “Not a soul, my dear. This isn’t the worse confession this Institute has seen. But it does explain some things…”

You don’t ask what they explain. You’re too scared. Elias managed to fix your face, and calmly refills your tea. You sip at it half heartedly as your boss easily promises that your secret was safe within his office walls.

It… doesn’t exactly feel like a weights been taken off your shoulders. You haven’t been that vulnerable in a long time, and you hoped that Elias would never betray you.

—

Weeks later

—

You felt cold, staring down at the body. Incredibly hot blooded and cold simultaneously. Bile threatens to rise from your actions but you swallow it down. Gore sticks under your finger nails and teeth, and it tastes divine; like manna from heaven. You wanted to cry from how hungry you were, how there was sustenance right in front of you and you cannot bring yourself to eat.

The other woman ran ages ago, darting down the alley as soon as you threw her attacker against the wall and punched a hole into his stomach. She certainly didn’t stay long enough to see you pull out his intestine and bring it to your mouth.

You fucked up. Badly. There was no possible way to get out of this situation by yourself. Your mind was drawing a blank and you were beginning to panic. You just killed someone, again. And this time you don’t have the giant lake to hide the body in.

You needed help; you needed guidance. Someone who always had a clear head and means to help you.

You knew exactly who to go to.

—

When Elias opened his office door, he certainly was not expecting to see you standing there, covered in blood, eyes wide and brimming with tears.

“Mr. Bouchard?” You said lowly, almost in a trance. “I did something bad…”

Elias could see the body in your minds eye. The corpse with his insides spilled out and chewed on. Some brute of a man with a bruised sternum and his skull shattered from the back, brain matter smearing the wall behind him.

He nods, slowly, taking into account your clothing, your guilty face, and your extremely vulnerable mind.

“Come, in my dear…” he couldn’t fight the smile which inched across his face. “Tell me what happened…”

—

Disposing of the body was easy enough. A few calls and the whole problem was swept under the rug. You didn’t exactly know the details, but whatever they were Elias just smoothed your hair and told you not to worry.

I’m a matter of an hour, the man never existed, and you were still in Elias’s office, gripping your now cold tea cup. He just stared as you, bemused.

After several long minutes of silence, he moves, straightening up and weaving his fingers together, gazing upon you steadily.

“Would you like to have dinner with me on Friday?”

You stared at him, shocked and confused.

“I’m sorry?”

“I don’t think you’ve been taking care of yourself properly.” He states. “I’d like to make sure you’ve eaten well, for once.”

He looks like he might eat you instead.

Your breath hitched. “Wh-why?”

He winks at you. “Don’t worry about that, darling.”