#tw unhealthy relationship

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Cain (p3)

Tw: Violence, Cain is a mean asshole, he is also mentally unstable, lost his shit in this chapter; smashing furniture and shit. This is just abusive relationships man, yandere themes. Reader is gender neutral. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

This is part 3

Click here for part 4

Click here for part 1

Days turned into weeks, into months. You've let this stranger live in your apartment rent-free. But you don't think he's a freeloader, because you noticed that whenever something runs out at home, be it eggs, toothpaste, or your favourite snack, it magically replenishes itself. But you knew Cain was behind this; you barely go to the grocery store anymore because it just keeps getting replaced with new versions of it.

You know that he's not paying any of it. The first time you went grocery shopping with him and saw him with the duffle bag, it had a purpose. His stopping by your shopping cart every so often had a purpose; his being a jerk about people looking at him also had a purpose.

You deduced all that when you came back that day and found that there were duplicates of every item you bought in your pantry and fridge. You weren't hallucinating, you weren't going crazy, you didn't pay extra. Cain stole a copy of what you lawfully bought that day.

Asking him about it (no matter how gently) will make him yell at you for being "ungrateful", "picky" and a "Stuck-up asshole", and make him storm off to "cool down" somewhere else on earth. He would come back either injured or with a whole bunch of random valuables, which would disappear the next day. Being the kindhearted person you are, you wanted to think that Cain returned the items to their rightful owners.

Regardless, Cain still replaces your favourite cereal whenever it's running low.

He still maintains his quirk until now: refusing to eat anything unless you take a bite or sip out of it first. You don't have to worry about cooking too much and wasting the leftovers, or eventually finding out that you don't like the dish. Because Cain is like your compost bin, he would just eat it for you.

He doesn't cook. You found that if you left nothing behind, he didn't get to eat that day... or so you assumed. But either way, you made it a habit to cook a larger portion so he could be fed too.

Conversations are few and far between. You know virtually nothing about the man aside from a few fun facts: he likes keeping his hair red because you caught him one day dyeing his hair with a box dye in your bathroom. You thought that you're going to get kicked out or yelled at because it might be an embarrassing situation to be seen in, but instead, upon noticing that you're there, he said:

"Go piss or shit. I don't care." while applying dollops of dye to his hair in front of the sink mirror.

You said that you do mind it very much, you want your privacy.

"Then hold it in. I'll get out when I'm done." He said so nonchalantly.

Other than that, he's surprisingly respectful in his own way. You thought you would need to do everything yourself on top of taking care of a grown man. But Cain learns. He observes you and, most importantly, does what you do to keep this household afloat.

He noticed that you would clean the dishes a few hours after the meal. Cain would do the same thing, just an hour before you're expected to get up and do it.

He noticed you would take out the trash whenever it filled up, which used to be weekly before he came along. Cain would take care of that before you do.

He noticed that you would stress over the bills and how much it has risen since he came into the picture. And there was the question of your mortgage, too. You're too scared to start charging him rent, fearing that he might not take it well, as he seems to be the type who does not like explicit directives.

However, it seems like he would pick up on it. You would find extra cash that is sometimes speckled with some red liquid. And these aren't chump change either; they can go up to hundreds of dollars, usually enough to cover all your bills and give you a bit of fun money.

He would put them in places where you would absolutely find them, but it's an objectively strange choice. You found a rolled-up stack of hundred-dollar bills in your shoes once, five dollars in the shower caddy, twenty dollars taped to the inside of your uniform (scratching you as you put it on), eighty dollars under your pillow... Asking him about his choice to do this leads to the same angry rant about how you're looking down at him and not appreciating his efforts.

Out of all the places, you don't think that he has ever put cash in your wallet. But with the help of Cain, you managed to get yourself a brand new phone and made the mistake of getting him one too. To which, he took great offence until you framed it as your thankfulness for his efforts around the house. And it was a token of his appreciation. Only then did he accept it without speaking any further.

He's unfortunately not too much of a tech wizard, often leaving them at home when going out for long periods. The way he acts made you wonder if he's someone from the 90s being brought forward into the present.

Cain also had an effect on your work life.

You don't think you have missed a bus anymore, as Cain had the balls to block the doors and force the bus driver to wait for you.

Whenever you're doing the closing shift, he would be there to escort you home. And it was the safest you've ever felt, despite feeling embarrassed when you think Cain is being unnecessarily hostile to innocent people who just "appear" unnerving.

You had an idea to try and get Cain to work alongside you. In hindsight, that was a terrible idea. Surprisingly, Cain agreed to it. Since this is a small town, your boss favours you; he had no problem getting in without an interview or even a background check.

He got fired and banned from the establishment on his first day.

A woman in her mid-ages complained to Cain that her coffee wasn't done well when he had followed all the instructions to a T. She has complained that it wasn't hot enough for her, despite it being at a temperature that can burn. You don't know what set him off that day; maybe it was the ridiculous nature of her complaint, or maybe she reminded him of his many foster mothers who neglected him.

To your horror, Cain decided to splash the cup of coffee against her face. She screamed in pain and fell to the ground. Raising his voice, "Fucking hot enough now, isn't it?"

Cain walked out of the cafe with eyes all on him; it was a miracle that no one was recording. And it was an even bigger miracle that you kept your job, the woman didn't press charges, and neither did your boss. You, of course, apologized profusely to them.

The woman screamed about suing them all, putting Cain behind bars, and closing the cafe down. But you never heard from her again, not even a subpoena. You thought she had a change of heart, and such a nice woman for forgiving everyone.

You expressed your thoughts about it, and Cain kept his lips sealed. He also didn't want to look you in the eye. Perhaps he's feeling remorseful?

You had no idea what happened to your bicycle; it disappeared the day you got your new phone. Asking Cain about it will just earn you a huff and silence. Pressing him about it will get you yelled at for being a dumbass and potentially being part of the statistics of idiotic bicycle deaths.

You think he sold your bicycle.

But it's alright, because he made it up to you by getting a Roomba. You don't know how that is the equivalent of your bicycle, but in his mind, he thinks it is. It was one of the things he's actually proud to present to you, and you didn't have the heart to express anything less than gratitude.

You have to admit that it's quite interesting and fun to watch the small robot just scutter around the room. You would catch him doing that, too, and he doesn't seem to care that you're there, unless you stare at him for too long and not at the Roomba.

Laundry is a strange ordeal with him. There is a Laundromat nearby, and he would always be the one to do it. Whenever you tried doing your own, he would hiss and snarl like a wild animal before snatching it away from you.

As it turns out, he just likes watching the clothes spin and spin through the windows of the front-loading washing machines and dryers. You deduced that it's almost meditative to him, because he would be at his calmest in the laundromat... as long as no one keeps his eyes on him too long.

You even joined him one day, sitting next to him and watching the hypnotizing spin. He paid you no mind, but you knew that he was aware of your presence, as there was one time someone tried striking up a conversation with you. Only for the stranger to be met with Cain's snappy attitude, no one dared to approach you after that.

All seems well. Even though it felt like you were walking on eggshells around him at first, you quickly learned his unspoken, sacred rules and easily maneuvered this strange friendship you have with him. You think Cain is perfectly integrated into your life, and he seems content either sleeping on the couch or on the floor.

He never asked for more, but you're sure that his back is probably killing him from sleeping like a shrimp. So you made the change from a regular couch to a sofa bed, and you made sure to clarify that you're doing this for yourself. Cain didn't object to it, which you can safely interpret as approval.

And approved he did, he was the first one to try out and explore the new piece of furniture. Cain hogged it entirely, using it as a bed and also a shelf, having items randomly placed as if they're soft plushies- you noticed that he's a bit of a hoarder with the random jewelry and items he brings home. He wouldn't encroach on your cabinets and drawers, save for that one portable closet you bought online for him. It was empty for a few weeks until he got the hint that it was for him to put his own stuff. And boy, did he really utilize it.

He doesn't verbally express his gratitude, but you know that he's not taking whatever you gave him for granted. You can see it in his actions, you can feel it.

You don't really have a lot of contacts in this town. But sometimes you do have friends and family flying in and asking if they could spend the night at your place. And you're always put in an extremely difficult position, because what the hell should you tell them? You tried asking Cain if they could stay over, and he flew into a fit of rage. Now, you only saw him cry once, and that was when he first asked you if he could stay at your place. But there were hot, angry tears whenever you mentioned friends and family.

And you could tell that he felt really hurt for some reason. You couldn't tell what the hell he was ranting about, but he goes ballistic over the thought of you having a life outside of him.

Unfortunately, you end up turning them away, because at one point, his outburst got so bad that he took your phone and smashed it against the ground while screaming about how life is unfair to him, about how he wishes death upon your friends and family that he hasn't even met, about how it was only supposed to be you and him. And no one else.

You told him that you didn't understand why he was so upset over your friends and family. You said that you wouldn't have them over if he doesn't want them encroaching on his space. Though you felt bitter when you realized you didn't have full control over your own home.

"Of course you don't! You don't- Don't know what it's like to be me! I fucking hate it, I fucking hate myself! I-I-" He was pacing around, tugging on his hair and grinding his teeth. His teary face scrunched up, as if he were in unbearable pain.

He curled up into a ball on your living room floor and just sobbed. He was expressing a lot of pain, the type that would kill any normal person. But not him, because he's strong and fueled with determination to live in spite of it. But there is only so much stress a man like him can handle.

You looked around. And saw the broken furniture, electronics, and decor that Cain destroyed during his massive meltdown. Most importantly, the phone that's in pieces on the floor. You should have left, you should have called the police, and changed your locks.

Yet, you made the conscious decision to stay and hold a respectful silence for him. You didn't touch him, you didn't give him words of comfort, you just stayed.

And to Cain, that was his first taste of warmth that didn't scorch him. The type of warmth that soothes him, the warmth that he was supposed to receive from the one who loves him.

He mumbled something. You let out a "huh?" as you didn't catch what he said.

"I'm sorry..." He muttered in between sniffles.

That shook you to the core; it was the first time you had heard him apologize. It must have taken tremendous strength for him to have said that. And so, you verbally and clearly forgave him.

He broke down further, crying harder and coughing more.

You didn't know why or what you were doing, but you scooted over and coaxed him to place his head on your lap. You then started to play with his hair. And this seemed to lull him into a deep sense of safety, as you saw him struggling to keep his eyelids open.

He felt warm.

Over the following days, Cain tried his best to clean everything up and to replace whatever he broke. Which is nice of him, but you knew he shoplifted a lot just to do that, and you wished he didn't.

Neither of you spoke about the incident. You end up using his phone as your own now. Cain offered that as a solution. He didn't mention getting another phone for you or himself, though.

Disappointed, but accepting, your friends and family ended up deciding to get a hotel instead. But the visitation date would be pushed back further. You don't think it was a good time to talk to Cain about them visiting, regardless.

Life went on as usual. Except Cain would be at home a lot more, seemingly wanting to get close to you. His temper became much milder, and he became a lot less snappy, instead opting to stay silent when he gets irritated.

You didn't think much of it, until one day he dropped this bomb on you:

"I'm in love with you."

He said this with such conviction, no room for doubt, all certainty. It wasn't phrased as a question, but a solid statement.

You were sitting on opposite sides of the dining table, doing the crossword puzzle book Cain got you as a silent apology for destroying your phone. You looked up and examined his face.

His eyes were soft. Weary, even. There was no hint of wrath, trickery, or shame. There was an air of desperation and even... vulnerability around him. It's a new look on him, and it felt uncanny to you.

You have no idea how to respond. So you opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, but said nothing.

Eventually, you expressed that you're speechless and you don't know what to do with his confession.

He looked crestfallen. Cain then averted his eyes to somewhere else. You saw that he's blinking a lot more and taking deeper breaths.

You thought that was the end of that conversation because he didn't continue it for a while.

But you were wrong.

"...What would it fucking take to make you love me, huh?"

You felt the chills down your spine once you heard the harshness return to his once tender tone. He's back, and he's pissed.

His expression became mean. He became the Cain that you always knew. You sighed inwardly, realizing that you had made him put his walls back up.

"Was everything not enough?! Am I not enough for you, huh?! You think you're better than me?!" He shot up from his seat and slammed his hands onto the table. You winced at the sheer volume of his voice. But you could feel the excruciating torment of being rejected once again, and he felt cold. He felt unwanted once more.

You made yourself much smaller in your chair, putting your hands up as a shield.

"You're a fucking asshole, a fucking piece of shit, I hate-" He choked on his own tears, knuckles turning white over how tight he balled his fists. "I..." He gulped and then coughed, then gasped for air. Then sobbed.

It was a pitiful cycle, and it was scary to watch. But you do so anyway, because you believe that everyone deserves to be heard, no matter how insane.

Cain collapsed back into his chair and sobbed into his hands. He kept wiping his eyes and nose harshly, until they turned red.

"I-I can never hate you, I can't. I..."

Cain sounded so broken. But there isn't anything you could do aside from waiting it out.

"I don't know..." He rasped. "I'm in love with you, and it hurts. It really fucking hurts."

You gave him a minute to calm down before speaking up.

You asked him how you could help. To that, you were met with a long pause from the distressed man in front of you.

He reluctantly put his hands down, not before giving himself one last wipe.

Cain then brought his gaze to yours, and you never realized how beautiful his deep brown eyes were. Tortured, but they held an almost ethereal quality to them.

"Will you... Love me back?" He asked, with caution and hope.

You hesitantly replied that you could... try.

Save for the birds outside and the humming of the refrigerator, it was a pin-drop silence. It seems like Cain was processing all of this on his own.

You don't know if you should have said that. Immediately, you started wondering what you had gotten yourself into. But before your thoughts could get too deep,

"Thank you."

It was said in earnest, filled with gratitude and reverence.

Both of you spent the rest of the afternoon in each other's quiet and comforting company.

[celtrist]

RADIOAPPLE BAD END ROUTE

In these endings, it's more or less assumed Alastor has gotten out of his deal (if the route doesn't involve his owner)

Lucifer finally snaps. Growing quite tired (and honestly pretty bored) with his and Alastor's game of "cat and mouse", Lucifer moves in to make Alastor his. So using his raw power, Lucifer overpowers Alastor and tells him they'll be finally getting married. It was a quick, and quite frankly embarrassing fight on Alastor's end. Alastor, while disliking the short king, supposed giving into the king of hell wasn't the most embarrassing loss he could truly have. Of course, with the escalation of their relationship came more problems than he thought there'd be.

Lucifer expects a devoted partner out of Alastor, and Alastor gives more of a "bare minimum" sort of effort. An ever-doting, jealous, and possessive husband Lucifer makes it difficult for Alastor to be out of his sight. Let alone attempting a conversation with anyone aside from Lucifer. Alastor is more or less stuck wherever Lucifer is, that is wherever he's staying sleeping-wise. And when he's not, Lucifer makes sure he's with Alastor whether as his normal self or a snake on his shoulder or a fly on the wall that Alastor isn't aware is there.

Lucifer's stalking is far less subtle than what it was before, and he still "guilt trips" Alastor for things like kisses and cuddles (the guilt trips and lying never work, but Alastor just gives up and "goes with it"). However, Lucifer will sometimes just do these things without Alastor's permission. A sudden kiss on the cheek, Alastor sleeping in bed and Lucifer just getting in to cuddle without letting him know, that sort of thing.

Post-engagement, Lucifer is less than tolerant of Alastor being an "aloof" partner. So with a flick of his wrist, Lucifer will sometimes conjure up an apple or even medicine infused with magic to make Alastor lose his autonomy and become the "perfect partner". Only responding and doing as he's told. This only lasts as long as Alastor gives him, the first time being a bit of a simple punishment and warning for Alastor to become "more committed" to their relationship, lest he wants to just be out of control of his own body. This does coerce Alastor to being more active reluctantly, but there are still a few times that this punishment ends up enacted.

Now this next part is a bit more give or take with this route, but Lucifer "baby trapping" Alastor seems like something he'd do. Whether that's Lucifer getting pregnant, Alastor getting pregnant (without permission), or both of them being pregnant. While I personally am not much of a fan of the whole "mpreg" thing, Lucifer desiring another child with Alastor makes sense in "completing the family" or really nailing in the coffin that Alastor is his.

This part of the route is certainly more optional than concrete as it IS a bit strange haha Using pregnancy to coerce Alastor into staying and being a more active partner seems like a thing Obsessed!Lucifer would be interested in doing. At the very least, he could lowkey threaten doing that sort of thing.

This pregnant situation (whichever way) could've been the way Lucifer more or less forced Alastor into marriage.

The pregnancy would be the final straw (if you choose to go that route) for Alastor. Either way, at some point he just grows tired and no longer wants to be the one in control. So Alastor requests Lucifer to give him some more "medicine", which Lucifer obliges with an upgrade so that Alastor doesn't require any sort of orders to move, but all autonomy will still be thrown out in favor of a different persona that blindly loves Lucifer. With the temptation to no longer think for himself, Alastor becomes Lucifer's perfect husband. So long as he remembers to take his medicine!

[befuddled-calico-whump]

thinking about a paranormal romance premise played for horror

you don't wanna date the hot, 1,000 year-old vampire? Too bad, they have mind control powers. The werewolf you friendzoned? She'll always be able to hunt you down, and she's faster and stronger than you'll ever be. The angel who's enamored with you? He can't die, and will always find a way to come back to you.

the love is appealing and all, but so is the fear

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

what if i told u,,,,,,,,,,, i had another new au idea

say hello to the 'two-faced' au! where u start to work at the daycare and become besties with Sun n Moon right as Vanny is putting the whole virus-thing into motion. Moon rlly likes u and feels like he can b his genuine Professional Silli Boi self around u, so when he starts having some more murdery tendencies he makes the executive decision to just kinda Lie About It and make sure u don't know! and everything will be fine, so long as u never find out about those missing kids! or where ur coworker went. or why ur other coworker quit. or why that one guy is in the hospital. or,,

(it gets way more complicated when management starts to wonder if u could be tied to all these accidents that only ever seem to happen on ur days off)

[xjulixred45x]

Platonic! Yandere! Posiedon (RoR) and the Child of Adamas: Trophy

This turn out so long, it's kind of a One Shot at this level. Just platonic.

Some warnings: Neutral Reader, unhealty mindset, YANDERE, heavy possesive behaviors, slight violence, objetivisation, Stockholm syndrome, heavy Angst(some comfort? But not really). The Bad Guy won.

It is no secret to anyone that Poseidon was a strange case even for the gods themselves, even for his own family.

Aside from Hades, Poseidon didn't really have any interest in forming a good relationship with his brothers growing up, and the more he developed his aggressive and volatile personality, the less initiative there was to change that on the part of Zeus and Adamas. Poseidon did not even try to change this himself, with any relationship within his family, with his nephews or nieces, for example. However, on one occasion, just one occasion, this changed.

It was quite a surprise that Adamas, of all his brothers, had finally produced an heir, Poseidon knew that he had married a Gorgon, but had treated the subject with the same indifference as always. He probably would not have attended the creature's ceremony if Hades himself had not convinced him to do so. Poseidon believed it was a waste of time. However, there was also the morbid curiosity of what kind of creature would emerge from such a…particular union.

There were two ceremonies, one for the people of Adamas, where he showed his child to everyone, proudly holding up his first offspring. And another for the family, much smaller and more private. Being that they (forced) MADE Poseidon go.

He just wanted to show up and leave, but curiosity reappeared, this time more persistently when he saw everyone crowded around the new member of the family. A look won't hurt after all.

Poseidon was prepared to see the most abominable creature possible, or a kind of mix between the Gorgon and his brother, but what he ended up encountering was much more...pleasant? And that was what surprised him the most.

The child of Adamas and his wife had brought out the best aspects of each other, he could even say that they looked a little like their grandmother, Rhea, and although they had clear signs of being their parents' child (some scales here and there, over there, birthmarks), they exuded something that no one else in the family did: innocence.

Poseidon, for the first time in thousands of years, felt interest in another living being, in protecting it, in maintaining it. A loving, harmful feeling that contaminated everything around him.

So this was love.

___________________________

reader was named by Adamas as successor to Nike, the Entity that symbolized victory, inherently linking them to their father.

Reader grew up being nurtured and loved by their family! They had good memories of it, about learning to fight with their mother, learning to use their weapons, going on expeditions with their father, and of course, visits from their uncle.

No one expected that Poseidon of all the gods would become a recurring figure in the creature's life. He put Adamas on alert and his wife was distrustful, while the reader innocently awaited his visits.

Every time Poseidon came to visit “the family of Adamas” (reader only), he brought a gift for the creature, a weapon, a pet, accessories, etc. All with his serious face, but always staring at the reader's expressions, looking into their young and curious eyes.

Adamas realized this.

A part of him was incredibly offended, after all, he was showing his child, from the moment they were born, the respect he never received. However, as the years went by, this anger turned into suspicion, and from suspicion...to concern.

There would be times when Poseidon would take the creature out of Adamas's palace (despite his denials in this regard), either to show them the ocean, to take them to Hades, or even to his castle. which was very fun for the reader! They really had no idea about the world outside of their family, so having these kinds of escapades seemed like a lot of fun, even if it bothered their father.

It was almost as if he wanted to… separate them from reader, keep them away, as if they were unworthy. And there was really no way to stop Poseidon's visits, not only because of the fights this would bring, but because he simply wouldn't allow it.

Adamas could see a strange gleam in his eyes, the gleam of a persistent predator, stalking steadily after its prey. And that worried him.

He was concerned to see how Poseidon took his baby away from their family, from what they enjoyed doing together, and tried to replicate it in a souless way. It worried him how Poseidon acted with people who even interacted with his child, it wasn't his normal aggressiveness, it was something worse, it was possessiveness, as if he were defending what he thought was his property.

And at the same time, it was the happiest Poseidon had ever seen in his entire life. He never thought se would see him smile, or that he would allow his wild 2-year-old child to play with his hair and clothes, PLAY with them, go to the beach, collect shells... When did a relationship so... sweet and sincere become so creepy, uncomfortable and undesirable?

However, there was something that Adamas and his partner had over him that Poseidon did not have, a much closer bond that he could not understand. The pride, the admiration.

Reader, even with all the time they spent with Poseidon, they couldn't stop talking about how great their father was to them, as a warrior, as a god, as a father in general. Which made the twisted feeling in Poseidon only intensify, grow darker, because for the first time, Adamas had something he wanted. And he wasn't going to get it while he was still alive.

__________________________

The reader began to take some interest in watching his father's battles around this time, it was so exciting! Seeing his father kicking the minor gods' asses, giving honor to Olympus, and the best? reader always came down to leave him the crown of laurels, declaring him the winner.

Poseidon used to just stare into the distance before, not even bothering to come many times, but now it was strange. Being able to see how Adamas and the reader laughed, they looked happy... Poseidon wanted that, he wanted to be the winner, but not in the eyes of the gods, he already had their approval and fear. He wanted to be the winner in the eyes of the reader, who would see him with the same affection and admiration as their father... who would see him as their father.

Maybe that's why he was so angry with Adamas when he stopped allowing him even in his palace... Maybe that's why he was so willing to do what he did when the time came...

________________________

To say that the reader didn't know about their father's plans would be naive, even if they didn't totally agree with his methods or what he was going to do, they believed in his philosophy, they believed in him, they understood him, and they supported him. Even if it wasn't the best decision.

They were calmer seeing that so many gods were joining their father, it gave the illusion that they were right. Of course, until they arrived with Poseidon.

It was a bittersweet feeling, reader remembered most of their best childhood moments in that palace, and now, the only reason they came was precisely to cause a war. The things one does for love...

Anyway, what the reader did not expect was what happened when they arrived...

In less than a blink…

A single attack.

And Adamas. Their teacher. Their father.

Died.

reader couldn't move, they didn't even realize when they fell to their knees at the sight of their dead, severed father, and let out a scream of pure agony. They were so engulfed in pain that they didn't even notice when Poseidon started walking towards them.

There he was, even with the blood of their father, his brother, the tyrant of the seas bowed to their level, patting them with his bloody hand on the head, staring at them again, there was not even a sign of guilt, regret or sympathy in his eyes.

Only satisfaction, because after all, he had finally won. He got what he wanted. He won his own laurel crown, His own Trophy.

_____________

The reader didn't know how much time had passed since then, they was too numb to think about it, too hurt to care.

After Adamas' attempted revolt, his elimination from history, and the subjugation of his army, the only thing left to know was what they would do with the reader. They couldn't just let them go as if nothing had happened, but they didn't want to punish them for something their father did.

So Poseidon, as expected, declared that he would be in charge of monitoring them and ensuring that they did nothing in the name of avenging Adamas (as much as they wanted to, it was not on their priority list now). Just what they needed.

Life in Poseidon's palace was silent, still, heartless really... it didn't help that Reader was so depressed at first that they wouldn't even leave their designated room for several weeks at a time.

Although Poseidon's function was to "hold" the reader, he acted more like a sincere caretaker, which made the reader feel sick every time he tried to approach them, for absolutely any reason, no matter if it was to wake them up, to talk to them or feed them, the reader could still see the blood on his hands. Feel it on their skin...

Obviously it wasn't long until Poseidon got fed up with this and started blatantly ignoring the reader's discomfort. If he said they were going to eat together, they would do it, if he said they were going to train, they would do it, he was the one who made the rules. Period.

With time, and enough submission, Poseidon began to make more demands. Have their room close to him, have the same type of clothes, that they will begin to stand out in certain areas of his interest, etc. reader could handle things up to that point, but what really broke their heart was when Poseidon demanded that they start calling him “father.”

It was like forcing broken glass down their throat.

No amount of luxuries, privileges, affection or fear could make it all worth it.

However... so many years had already passed, eons perhaps. And reader was so tired.

Tired of arguing, tired of fighting, tired of feeling drained and sad, they knew the hole they was getting into, but at this point they didn't care. Nothing mattered. Not anymore.

______________________

Poseidon was sitting, watching the fish through his window, not really thinking anything in particular until the door opened.

He honestly didn't expect to see reader, but he didn't get to say anything before they excused themselves saying that they couldn't sleep well, so he let them be. This used to happen from time to time. The reader always liked to be where the fish were. They gave them security.

Poseidon just returned to what he was doing, waiting to hear how the reader leaned back in one of the armchairs they had brought for them years ago. But he was surprised when reader addressed him instead. they didn't even say a word as they sat next to him, leaning their head on his shoulder.

Poseidon just stared at them, trying to hide his astonishment. This might be the first time since…the incident…that the reader was giving him any sort of genuine affection. It wasn't forced. It wasn't fake. Genuine. they was looking for comfort in HIM.

Poseidon only moved the reader slightly so that they were more comfortable while they watched the fish, in a comfortable silence. Poseidon was rejoicing so much that he didn't initially notice when the reader fell asleep, clinging to him. Maybe they should go to sleep...

Or better yet, maybe they can stay like this a little longer.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[worksandmusings]

DP X DC

There is an unmarked grave.

A body lies in there. Six feet below.

There is an unmarked grave

with an unknown boy.

No. You knew that boy.

At least at one point.

There is an unmarked grave with your brother inside it.

How did this happen?

You pull out the shovel.

There is an unmarked grave.

But it will be alright.

You will bring him back.

[gladiatorcunt]

- BEDROCK | XII.

you’re a bottled star, the planets align, you’re just like mars. you shine in the sky

cw: kinktober prompt (sex toys), reader has a pussy, age gap (ur bsf ahsoka’s former master!anakin (40’s) obi wan (50’s)’s padawan!reader in her early 20’s), dub con, implied obikin x reader codependency, dismemberment fantasies, reader is lowkey a stalker freak, no direct touching between anakin and reader ofher than chest fondling, strongly implied voyeurism that’s non consensual but unavoidable and unwanted by both of you, eventual sith!anakin, obi wan haunts the narrative, frequent use of ‘little one’, dead dove do not eat, reader became a padawan in their late teens

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“You know they’re going to expect their toys to be put to good use.” Master Skywalker shrugs and tiredly grumbles down at you.

You’re sprawled out on the bed, recuperating from the first day of your undercover mission. Your own Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was on one of his infamous negotiation tours, so to speak, you had never cared for them, you couldn't spin pleasantries like yarn any better than a Rakghoul could dance.

Obi-Wan could only stomach taking you on because you parallel Anakin in so many ways, Anakin could only accept his former master taking another padawan because maybe your added seriousness will ease the aggravation caused by the one before you.

You were just happy to be chosen, as any child-waited-too-long-unwanted-teenager plucked from the tense comfort of their home would be, even if that home is only a basic imitation of a shelter.

“I know, Master.” These blasted things, growing up the other padawans would giggle with you over these provocative missions, usually a padawan donning the skin of a schutta on the end of a leash held by their Masters. “Do they have to be so�� unique?”

It was as nice as Obi-Wan would’ve wanted you to be, even in these circumstances.

Would he take on Master Skywalker’s role with as much confidence and clarity as the true born son of the Force? Rumors of both the men’s appeal and promiscuity do not guarantee a willingness to rut into a padawan, a dance of demons spoken of in the archives, a beast in the vein of and important to some future single world than your own.

“Unique? How so? I know you’re not like some padawans and keep to yourself, little one, but Jedi your age talk. I’m not naive, neither is Obi-Wan.”

Master Skywalker might as well have carved the kyber crystal of his saber into your face, the flame that crackles under the surface of your skin bears his scent, stormy as his heavy gaze often is.

“Apologies, Master, i never meant to-”

“Shush.” He chuckles, “You can call me Anakin, I hope you’re aware of that. Mace Windu is not going to barge in here and strike you down for being informal. It’s just us, little one. I’m not even your real master, just doing pet sitting for an old friend.”

You blink, lava swirling in your gut at the implication of being a pet before a person. “Anakin.” Your mouth twists around the unused syllables, never having referred to a master by their first name in your entire life. “But the mission, we’re supposed to um…… you said they’d notice if we didn’t do……. anything.”

Another chuckle, another curl tucked behind his ear. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that we came to this planet as a wealthy ship salesman and his controversially younger companion. This place is too seedy to not have eyes and ears everywhere, they’d take it as an insult if we declined to use their… gifts. The success of this mission would mean another smuggler and secret trader being taken down, Obi-Wan and I both think you’re ready for riskier missions like this one. You’ll do fine, little one.”

“I’m trying to release my fear and anger into the force, Master- Anakin. I thank you and Master for seeing this in me but I've never done anything like this before. Are people really going to hear us… have sex?”

“That’s why we’re speaking so softly, padawan, it’s not the noises they’re looking to witness, but you can never be too careful.” Anakin smiles, patting your cheek firmly. “And we don’t necessarily have to do anything like that, just use the toys and leave them on the bed for servants to find, messy and thoroughly used. The nobleman will be pleased, if the information painting him as a pervert is accurate.”

Obi-Wan wouldn’t have spoken to you quite so crassly, but he does like to tease you that the sand scratching Anakin’s tongue never goes away, there’s always another grain when you think it’s spotless and clean. Like the temple or one of the many mighty metal spires, the sterile trees of Coruscant.

You nod, nevertheless. “There’s no use putting it off. The schedule we studied says the workers will stop by first thing in the morning.” Your nerves are obvious, picking your nails, biting your lip, adjusting the folds of your skimpy outfit to conceal skin it will never stretch far enough to cover.

Anakin’s eyes soften, the wrinkles in his outer eye corners deepen. “I’m only sorry I won’t be the only one to hear you cum for the first time, but they’ll never touch you, and they won’t get to know what you sound like doing everything. Trust me, little one, you’re in the safest place you could be right now, my general vicinity.”

It’s not as funny, or as hot, as you’d expect it to be. As shy as you are, you’re constantly surprised by how quick you are to embrace arousal in the urge to renounce shame. If your blood temperature rises to a boiling point, the big ball of anxious knots in your knot could be singed through until it falls apart.

You do not feel any great embarrassment of the simple truth that you have a crush on Anakin Skywalker, many do, you’d be at the tail end of a long line of various species of various ages and with various expectations of what they want their bodies to go through.

It’s silly to be possessive of a man you only share a master with, who stops by to chat when he’s not tinkering away at something or doing some death defying stunt on a mission that’s going to drive the council to insanity one of these days.

You are jealous of Ahsoka Tano however, your closest friend, even after she’s transferred to another Master, the result of some great big falling out.

It is far better that you were not assigned to be his padawan, the Force would have bled with your desire and dissipated entirely to get away from it.

Master Skywalker picks up one of the toys lying there on the bed in between you, a realistic tongue that disturbs you just a bit more than it arouses you. He chuckles at the apprehension on your face and motions for you to get comfortable. He reaches around you with one arm and bundles you up in his lap, your back to his firm chest.

He shushes your nervousness sounds and attempts to ramble, not fully apologetic as he peels back the layers of your tunic top. Your chest bounces into view, free from the confines of the tight fabric. Anakin gives you absolutely no time to be shy about them, groping one in his free hand. The force beams with his amusement when you gasp, the calluses on his fingers feel like they’re marking the skin of your mound, he kneads and kneads for a moment, perfectly content to let you squirm until you can get used to what else he’ll have to subject you to.

Maybe that’s where the hotness in these missions lies, you both want this on a baseline level but there are things you have to bend your own line in the sand to allow. Pushing your limits under the shyness-inducing gaze of Master Skywalker in these uncomfortably close walls and on a mission where you’re free to be other people might very well be your only chance. You’ve never broken a single rule at the temple, you’re a shining example of what a padawan learner should be. Master Obi-Wan often jokes that he wishes you were around to be his padawan the first time around, but there’s always a note of sadness hanging onto his stilted laughter.

You arch your back against Anakin, bracing your hands behind you and burying them in his hair. He groans as you gently tug the curls, and gives it right back to you by lowering the realistic tongue to your left nipple. You flinch, the surprisingly cold silicone model of a muscle flicks against your perky nub on Anakin’s command, and he’s commanding it to torture you to death. Relentless flicks of the toy against your nipple make you squirm again, wanting so badly to be good but you’d much rather ensure the toy was in constant contact with your chest.

It’s the perfect temperature, you run hot most days, and the brief sensation sends shivers from your head to your toes, just a hint of pleasure since Anakin stopped his own touching, sitting as still as a statue as he works the toy on you. He hooks his chin in your shoulder to gawk, transferring the device from one slick nipple to the other until both are so thoroughly coated that it drips onto your soft tummy.

“See, that feels good right, little one? There’s nothing to worry about, this is all we’ll do until it’s time for bed and then we’ll put these things away.”

You nod, whining like a spoiled noble family member now, pouting when he takes the tongue away from your nipple and throws it haphazardly over his shoulder. You cringe, wondering if the loud clang it yells into the concrete floor’s ears reached those in the shadows, you were trying to ignore them but now that there was a single moment of quiet there lecherous eavesdropping was all you could imagine.

A thick hand clamps around your chin and jerks you in the bearer’s direction, Master Skywalker clicks his tongue against his teeth, “They’re nothing to you, especially not right now. If you’d only let yourself go, they’d fade away entirely in your mind, I was trying to be easy on you but clearly you’re in need of something stronger if your head is still on the surface of this planet.”

Something stronger, being a large vibrator, 15 inches and a swirl of mint green and lavender, in the shape of a tentacle, every suction cup has the ability to well… suck. These are all things Anakin relays to you while rearranging your form to his liking, legs spread wide over his thighs, arms behind your back but not restrained, and after some lifting, your robes in a beige pile by the gaudy bed.

Master Skywalker can be merciful occasionally, he doesn’t force you to make eye contact as he lowers the vibrating toy to the altar between your legs. He also doesn’t comment on the pitiful whimper you let out, the vibrations haven’t even started, but you feel the force explode in pleasant-happy-power-trip blood orange. You drink up the calming waves he sends to you, wrapping them around your naked form like the comfiest and plushest blanket, the waves you offer to him in return are clingy little ripples in a pond. Needy repetition of hints to feelings that cannot leave this room alive.

He gets a glimpse of a fantasy, for a mere second before it vanishes out of view, a tantalizing and fascinating shooting star.

“No we can’t stop, you have to let it out.” You raise your hips up higher, face down ass up, your holes wink at him in intervals, angel wings flapping in the corner of his mind, like all the love he has for you will leak out into his cum and if he can just go that, then everything will be fine.

The vibrator doesn’t start at an easy to handle low frequency, your howling is drowned out by the intense humming of its second highest setting.

Your hips jolt, Anakin works the toy in slow circles over your clit, cooing when you jerk and squirm around. Your already throbbing clit is pulsing so hard it almost feels like a constant pain, but you’re so karkking wet that you push your hips up into his ministrations. You chase after the persistent buzzing with more determination than any of your meditation sessions, suddenly cumming on Master Skywalker’s lap is far more important to you than all the missions in the world. Blurry blobs with their ears to the structure around you shift to crumble beneath your increasingly loud cries.

Your pleasure snowballs, Anakin’s earlier attention to your nipples the mountain out of a molehill and his current fascination with your cunt the crashing wave threatening to envelop you in its fold. Like the ones Master Obi-Wan used to tell you about on Kamino, angry and dark cobalt blue, lapping at the ankles of the once elusive white buildings. It’s easy to split yourself into different pieces, assign each one to a part of nature because the force is telling you that your pleasure is as natural as grief and plant life and twin cotton candy pink to red suns and love and mistakes and giant bone dragons with pearls for landmark hearts.

The steady pulsing on your clit punches the gasps out of you, a steady stream of short-for-breath aimless chatter. You’re soaking Master Skywalker’s lap all the way down to the bed, if you mentioned them he’d probably tell you to leave how you ruined them. The smell and stain would only bring you greater protection from being found out, yet your stomach twists at the thought.

The force blooms violet with your fear, as if you’re deathly afraid of your own orgasm, lazy unenthusiastic rutting into your semi-firm mattress back in the dorm is nothing compared to actually touching yourself with the intent to cum. You just got too scared the first time you tried to slip your fingers in your tight snatch and frustratingly resigned yourself to never understanding what your peers go on and on about. Giggling into their portions of bland oatmeal and exchanging charged glances, hormones are far more powerful when they’re being repressed.

Master Obi-Wan had no trouble modestly applauding your emotional regulation skills, unlike his former padawan you had less trouble settling the wriggling bundle of your feelings in a see through boat and pushing it along the stream of starlight until it gave way and became one with the connecting tissue underneath.

“You’ll lose your voice at this rate, little one.” Anakin huns into your ear, his mech arm holding you so tight to his chest his ribs might crack open and swallow you whole. “You’re a better actress than I thought you’d be, unless all this whining and carrying on is genuine?”

You can’t even get a word out before he presses the vibe closer to your pussy, the swarm of tiny little mouths the orchestra and the largest one at the tip of the tentacle hugging your clit the conductor. Your breath hitches as you tremble and whine, a high pitched thing that pierces the air. Anakin grins, lips split wider than the length of the cruiser the council provided to get her, he moves the toy up and down between your folds. A fake cock warming itself in the snug hold of your pussy, sending little jolts of phantom electricity to fizz and sparkle on your tastebuds through your core up out your mouth.

“I’m- I’m not acting, Master. Kark! You’re- ngh- going to, um, y-you’re going too fast, Master, please.” You beg, throwing your head back on his shoulder and counting the dots that make up the constellations in your visions.

It’s too much pressure, Anakin plays with the silk fabric of your outfit like it’s something for his hands to do, like he’s not keeping a vibrator right on your clit and holding you down so you have no choice but to take it. You can’t help but think of the ways your real master would be different, he’d try his hardest and wait out the time the longest but would that stuffy old man end up performing this same brand of torture?

Not that Master Skywalker is much younger, from your position on his lap the signs are aging are right above your face. The cheek scar you learned months ago he’s had for decades The wrinkles, eyes, mouth, forehead, the permanent halfway tense halfway slack skin from all the stress he endured in the war, the ghosts living in his irises, his weathered hands splayed out burning hot steam to the touch on your belly. Right above your womb, he could just dig in and sink his fingers metal and skin knuckle deep.

“Aren’t you adorable? You’ve been taking it so far, you haven’t fallen yet, little star, I bet you can keep going. Stop rushing this, just relax and feel these hungry mouths coaxing you to splash against them, settle into their demanding chants.” Anakin soothes, unhurriedly dragging his blunt nails over your love handles, “I would say this body is wasted on those arid robes, on the Jedi Order, you’d be such a beautiful dancer like you were after dinner, but Obi-Wan would kill me if he found out.”

The dinner with the nobles, the party afterwards, the target had his lizard tongue hanging from his mouth when he asked you and the other “accessories” to put on a show. The force twirled in displeased crimson skies then.

You don’t insult Master Skywalker’s intelligence out loud, but you both plainly speak frequently to the same word of the day calendar.

You want to give him one of your arms, unholster your lightsaber and sever the flesh from your spirit. He wouldn’t be able to use it and you wouldn’t ask him too, he can just have it, so he can understand how alike you are, to know that you too will always wander around with a missing part of you. But how can it be truly missing if you gave it willingly? Master Obi-Wan can have your lonely other, in a fiery pyrrhic instant you are pure force and limbless.

You’d roll the turquoise pendant of the necklace he’d bring you, a souvenir from a stubborn vendor on an outer rim planet, in the lines on your palm like it’s one of his eyes.

Anakin suffocates the vibe in your pussy and doesn’t let the suction cups breathe until you’ve spontaneously combusted, before you can say knife

“It’s not funny, I really didn’t like it, Master.” You liked it too much, the flickers of yellow embers in his eyes, his grip so tight on your chub that you pictured him with sharp black claws, shacking up with a man you barely know but at the same time are too close to.

You used to fall asleep recounting the details of Anakin’s life and accomplishments, each tidbit represented a sheep for you, the biggest punishment to you back then meant being banned from the archives or blocked from news sites on the holonet.

You studied the man whose shadow you would wear over your robes like a shawl, until you were convinced you could jet set off to Tatooine and be able to point out which patches of sand his feet had tread upon. You just never once stopped to consider that he was doing the same with you, what kind of sun bothers himself with the comings and goings of a dead star so far away from their incinerating orbit.

“I don’t like that you like when i’m scared, it makes me feel… sick.” You could cum so hard you’d fall off the temple roof into Coruscant’s lower levels, be one of the ghosts wandering throughout the dreary gray tunnels but instead be moaning for cock that’d still be alive.

“I’ll hold your hair back and nurse you back to health, I’m in for it if I give old man Obi another padawan death scare.” He wiggles the digits of his mechanical arm sardonically, he knows what you mean but he also knows that you don’t mean it so he gives you the same amount of humor he sensed in your mutterings.

Master Skywalker is appreciated for his ability to be both tremendously serious on the battlefield and lighthearted with his colleagues, Anakin loves to tease shy early 20 somethings who volunteer him to be the replacement caretaker for their own master. He tosses and turns that night, not because of the impending result of the mission, all he’ll say in his husky morning voice is that he had a bad dream. You should make a break for the cruiser after embarrassingly exchanging pleasantries, Master Obi-Wan and the rest of the temple are expecting you home before your scheduled progress testing sparring session.

For now, the vibrator’s highest setting will be the instrument, the conduit to the music your moans create, interwoven with Anakin’s hot musk. Oil and dirty water.

[phemiec]

Edward, on his bed kicking his feet like a schoolgirl, doodling hearts that say ‘Mr. And Mr. Riddler-Penguin’ inside a trapper keeper: Oswald? Can’t stand him. A complete and utter bastard. Worst person i’ve ever met, bar none. 🥰😍🫦

Oswald, fuming, drunk, throwing darts at a picture of Edward covered in graffiti: Edward? He’s my favourite person on earth and the one true love of my life. I’d die for him. 😒🗡️🤮

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

I want to write batfam (just core four rn) w/ their respective partners but every single ship is just

red flag x red flag

TW- Obsessive/ Unhealthy love and relationships, just descriptions though

Dick & Wally? They are the clingy toxic- what do you mean you want a seperate life/hobbies that don't involve me? The kind of people to take "Would you love me if I was a worm"? way too seriously and cry if they dont get the "right" answer. God forbid you try "I was asleep" for not texting back.

Jason & Roy? Fire meets fire, get the cops called on them at least once a week. Every disagreement is a full out brawl before long, but they always end up amping up and then patching eachother's wounds with kisses and gauze. Hard to tell if its genuine hate or flirting sometimes- maybe both.

Tim & Bernard? Stalker ship. Privacy? You mean you don't love me enough to want me to have your location 24/7?? It's a push and pull of control and constant reminders that secrets are an illusion. But they also are way too enamored with the fact someone would love them to the point of obsession to really be that bothered. "You made me a shrine?? Aww babe it even has my missing shirt, that must have been a pain to get" kinda shit.

Dami & Jon? Stubborn to the max, the couple that breaks up at least once a week and then makes up two hours later after keying a car and throwing a game system in water. Drag everyone into their fights and hold grudges like theres no tomorrow. Also god forbid trigger jealousy. Will pull the "I don't think you should hang out with them, they're not good for you" shit

Now any of these behaviors in any other context?? Fuck that. But theres something about "Is it really toxic if neither of us are innocent" kinda fictional ship that I love. Also let Batfam be fucking insane especially when it comes to their partners.

[a-998h]

This one is a fam and I hope this dose not make you uncomfortable!

I see you're a fan of the Yuzuya fantasy series. Mostly because that is the only place in any piece of MHA fantasy au media in which soul flame is used. Anyway, let's move on.

TW: YANDERE, KIDNAPPING, INTIMIDATION, POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, UNHEALTHY DYNAMICS

It is OK to like yandere content so long as you don't have this kind of behavior in real life and don't condone real life yanderes

So for some context, you are a folklore type fairy from the Seelie Court and that's means you're a nicer type of fairy. You are also the size of Tinkerbell. Note, this also takes place before the events of Yuzuya's fantasy series for those who have seen it.

So, you were minding your business and living your life when you were lured into a trap by a crazy mage in which he tricked you into a jar lined with holy water and an iron lid. So, you were stuck for many months until Kirishima and Bakugo arrived. They were scammed by said mage and were hunting him down when they found you.

"Hey, Bakugo over here!" Kirishima yelled.

Bakugo, annoyed as always, wandered over to see what had drawn the attention of his dragon companion. Looking in the jar, he saw you. You were so small, fragile, and weak looking. They both knew the stories of fairies but Kirishima's bleeding heart caved at the look you gave them. So, they opened the jar and laid you on a cloth.

"How are you feeling?" Kirishima asks.

You stretch, happy to be free from the jar. Looking around, you see that the mage is gone but now there two very scary looking men staring down at you. Naturally, you start freaking the hell out which causes Kirishima to freak out as well.

Thye explain who they are and that calms you down a bit. They ask who you are and how up ended up in a jar. You explain and they feel really bad for you.

"So, you want come with us?" Kirishima asks.

"Huh?" You ask back

"He asked if you're willing to come with us," Bakugo says in mock annoyance.

You agree as you can't go anywhere with your wings still damaged.

3 months go by and your wings have been strong again. The times and adventures you three had were amazing. Though, you didn't seem to notice how much more protective the pair had been over you.

Thye both saw you as someone in need of protection and the world didn't do anything to prove them wrong. They always liked it when you talked about your culture but they didn't like when you talked about going home.

The week your wing is healed the two had already figured out they loved you, though it took Bakugo longer to admit it. So, they planned to tell you that they loved you.

That night around the fire they tell you how much they love you and that they want to be with you for the rest of your lives. They don't pause and there is no hesitation in their words.

"I.... I'm sorry. I can't feel the same, " you tell them.

They pause with Bakugo getting angry and Kirishima looking sad. They don't understand, why don't you've them? Kirishima, who had you sitting in his hand, holds you closer to his face.

"Why? Why don't you love us?" He asks teary eyed.

You correct him, saying that you did love them but that you aren't allowed to. Bakugo asks what bullshit says you can't love them and you explain that you aren't allowed to love humans and they pause.

Bakugo says that he's a dragon soul and that Kirishima is a regular dragon so you can still love them. You explain that even still, they look human so the fairies see them as human. This annoys Bakugo more. Kirishima begs, saying that youre their soul flame and that means you three are meant to be together!

"I'm sorry, but I can't," you say as you try to fly off his hand.

Next thing you know, Kirishima has you in a gentle but firm grasp.

"No, you can't leave and we aren't gonna let you!" He shouts.

He holds you like that when they return to Bakugo's homeland where you're placed under royal protection as the bride of the prince and his dragon. You can't leave and the people of the tribe along with your lovers will make sure you're never gonna leave until you all grow old and die.

[b-writessometimes]

Yandere Nerdy Classmate OC x Reader

Warnings: Yandere/ dark content themes, body image issues, unhealthy obsession, creepy/ perverted behavior, implications of stalking. References to suicidal thoughts and smut below but not overtly explicit. Not a condonement of these IRL activities. Read at your own discretion.

[word count: 1,030]

University seemed like a surefire way to start a new leaf.  To breeze past the humiliation of his years growing up as an awkward nerd and make something of himself. No more being jostled around at the school cafeteria, no more having his peers pick and laugh at him because of his weight and no more faculty doing absolutely nothing about the bullying going on right under their noses.

Unfortunately enough, the teasing didn't just stop at graduation.  It followed him like a damn leech that refused to perish no matter how many times one picked at it.

The only thing keeping the guy going was his lifelong dreams of someday becoming an author.  Though he's yet to share his stories to anyone outside his own grandmother.  

On most days he felt like quitting.  Of dropping out, disappearing off the face of the Earth one way or another.  His presence being reduced to no more than that of a mere ghost that roamed people's memory, if even granted that luxury.

And then he happened to meet you one day.

Infatuated.  No enthralled would be the right word that he would use to describe how he felt about you.

In all his odd twenty-two years of living, he's never experienced such an intense yearning for someone before.  Like a need rather than a simple want.

This is different from those puppy crushes he got back in school to those he became a nervous wreck around only to soon learn they all wanted nothing to do with the chubby loser in the back of class.

No, this was far different.  It began innocently enough as so many stories do.  Stolen glances and the mumbled 'hi' as you sat down next to him for each lecture. He couldn't help but to notice your preferred method of note taking, those little snacks you brought so often to class, and which foot you tended to favor when walking through the door. Just little things like that. 

His heart skips a beat when the two of you make eye contact, he pretends to focus on his paper and not the way he was staring at the slight furrow of your brow when you get all concentrated and in your head.  But by some miracle the two of you begin talking.  

Once short greetings then blossomed into lively conversations before and during class.  He knows a bit more about you now: your favorite music, what you grew up watching, how many other friends you had here on campus or back home.  He hates how insecure he feels when you bring them up.

You learn a bit about your new friend as well. He was raised mainly by his maternal grandmother and didn't have many friends growing up. Whether that past is relatable or not is up to you, but it's hard not to pity the guy.

Before you know it, finals week rolls up.  Since you both seem to be the only ones taking this class semi-seriously, you propose a study session in the comfort of your dorm room. Too tight on cash to head to any fancy cafés.

He can feel his mouth salivating at the very notion.  Of being able to breathe the same air that you did, to occupy the intimate space that you returned to each day.

His fingers are clammy when he's seated at your desk, seeing you seated in much more casual clothes with your legs propped up against your bed.  The pits of his shirt are now stained with sweat but he swears it's just nervousness from the upcoming exam.  You place a hand on his shoulder and reassure him he'll do fine, being one of the smartest people in your guys' class after all.

Oh how he wanted to fall to his knees right then and there and eat you out to thank you for giving him the time of day.  But alas he still had a functioning brain.  Such bold moves were strictly prohibited at the moment.  He was still a virgin after all and wanted your intimacy together to be special. 

And so, he goes for the second best alternative.

He sniffs your clothes when you aren't looking. With your laundry hamper being out in the open like that, he can't help but be opportunistic. The mix of your natural odor and sweat floods his system.  He shudders at the sensation.  If he could somehow transfer your scent over and pour it into a candle to keep for his own, he would do so in a heartbeat.  

He admires the lingering imprint of your body on the sheets, like how a person might admire a fine piece of art in a museum.

Your study session goes as planned.  You both pass the exam with flying colors. It was a great way to end the class, good scores all around and a new friend to boot.  He can't wait to see you next semester when he conveniently has a bunch of the same classes as you.  A neat little coincidence right?

Only after returning back to your dorm room, do you notice a few things absent from your possession.  Mainly that of a used lip balm and an old pair of socks.  You don't give it much thought. After all, little things like those wind up missing all the time.  No need to worry about it too much.  

Meanwhile, some mere 15 minutes away, he's licking the rim of your used lip balm and trying to cement the flavor profile to memory.  A hint of petroleum mixed with the sweetness of your saliva.  Absolutely intoxicating.  

He's alternating between palming your used socks against his crotch and inhaling your natural musk.  It makes it all too easy to lose himself completely.  Skin flush with sweat as he can only helplessly imagine how good you must feel if you smelt this damn good.

After his 'busy evening’, he finds himself under a lamp and furiously scribbling down into one of his spare notebooks.  The moment giving him just the inspiration he needs for a spare poem. 

Perhaps he'll use it in a novel of his, and dedicate it to you someday.

A/N;

Excited to finally share some original fiction of mine! I may/ may not reveal his name but for now he will be simply known as 'yandere nerd/ yandere classmate'. If you are curious to know more about him, feel free to send an ask my way. I love to yap about my OC's and flexing my creative writing muscles 👋

[celtrist]

RADIOBELLE / CHARLASTOR BAD END ROUTE

In these endings, it's more or less assumed Alastor has gotten out of his deal (if the route doesn't involve his owner)

Charlie is quite clingy to Alastor and loves to shower him with affection. Especially in front of others, as she enjoys the feeling of having "won" his hand that everyone else was dying to have. She's a lot more protective of Alastor now and does not take kindly to flirting towards him. If a character like Angel Dust tries (or successfully) drugs Alastor, Charlie will punish him. After those sorts of instances, she will have Alastor confined in their room (whether he likes it or not) so he's "safe from everything in Hell". This happens fairly frequently whenever Alastor is in harm's way or even when he gets flirted with sometimes.

In this ending, Alastor's day-to-day is planned out to a "T" by Charlie Morningstar! He's miserably engaged to Charlie and Vaggie (though this route can be depicted with him engaged only to Charlie as well!)

She's always aware of what Alastor's doing both due to her being the one to schedule what he's doing and customizing a tracker into his ring (that she enthusiastically told him about!).

Charlie likes to keep Alastor in the hotel with her as much as possible, so much of her schedules for him center around her and being inside the hotel.

Charlie doesn't exactly "force herself" onto him, but she pushes a lot to get him to consent and do affectionate things towards her. Charlie starts small things with "hold my hand", "hug me", "kiss me". She gets bolder with "We should cuddle. Couples cuddle Alastor" and "If it really bothers you, you can just watch Vaggie and me in bed so it's like your participating" and then to "You could at least touch here Alastor so it's not exactly sex still". You get the point.

If Alastor is firm with his nos, she won't do anything. But if it's a weak no or a weak yes, Charlie will go forward and push. But she won't act until he actually says yes or gives an indication of a yes.

I imagine Alastor would go this route as it feels the lesser of any evil. Charlie is still generally entertaining and he has enjoyed the times she isn't overwhelmed with obsession. She allows him will mobility of himself and some time away from her. Not to mention, Charlie will back down on things JUST to please Alastor if he pushes enough. Although, this push gets harder and harder to do. Such as if he gives in one day to kiss Charlie and the next he says he doesn't want to or likes it, Charlie will push harder than before saying "you were fine the other day".

Charlie with this route felt like the safest and least damaging route. Whether that's really true is up in the air as the longer he's with Charlie, the more concerning their relationship gets with her controlling and antics.

Alastor is a very strongminded individual so something like stockholm syndrome would be difficult for him to succumb to I imagine. But not impossible, and I can see him falling into this coping mechanism of "everything alright" and "no I want this" with Charlie. In addition, I do think he'd sort of disconnect from reality whenever he's placed into a scenario he finds overly discomforting.

[hawksbunny]

Hero and Sin

TW: Noncon, slight manipulation(?), unhealthy relationship

Keigo cupped the side of your head, gently guiding your face closer to his with a single hand. You were flustered, your nervous and wide eyes staring into his own. He was pretty nervous, too. You didn't know it yet, but tonight was the night he'll finally have you screaming and begging underneath him. He won't let his nerves get in the way again.

-----------

Hawks was a good man. Really, he was! He helped tons of people on the daily. He brought so many smiles to so many faces that said faces became a blur of different colored skin over time.

-----------

Keigo tentatively pecked your lips. He pulled back slightly, licking his lips and tasting your fruity lip gloss, before going for a longer kiss. “You taste so good.” He hummed while brushing his lips softly over yours and setting a slow pace while he eased you down onto your living room floor. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back.

The two of you had been playing a question game to get to know each other better, comfortably seated on the soft carpet. When you averted your gaze and shyly asked something overly personal just a few moments prior, he couldn't resist how cute you looked. He just had to act.

-----------

Hawks was a hero. That automatically made him a good person. Only a good person would want to try saving others on a daily basis. Though, to him, it was more of a need than a want. It didn't matter if it was a dangerous villain or a petty thug. Regardless of everything he'd done, the blood on his hands, he was a hero.

-----------

Even before Keigo stepped foot into your apartment unit, he only had one thing on his mind. So, he kept his legs crossed throughout the game. It didn't matter now. He was sure you could feel his excitement hiding in his pants as he easily glided his body between your legs. He knew you did when you squirmed a little.

He felt your small hum against his lips, your soft sigh caught between caressing kisses that he gradually turned rough and vehement. You didn't seem to mind, playing along and giving in to his passion. That was until he grinded his hips into yours. You turned your head to the side, effectively breaking off the short-lived hot makeout, much to his annoyance.

-----------

Hawks had gotten used to being thanked by the people he saved. It wasn't that he took that gratefulness for granted. No. Even after a few years, he still took joy in receiving a simple ‘thank you’. It was just that the gratitude on those blurred faces became a familiar thing he'd grown to expect.

-----------

“Kei… Keigo…” Your candied voice came out breathless. “Wait, I'm not comfo- Oh!” You yelped in shock when Keigo dropped his head to your neck, frozen while he harshly worked sharp canines into your skin. He heard your pained hiss, felt your hands that had threaded into his hair tug at the blonde strands with a painful tight grip. He groaned pathetically, humping you like a dog once more.

-----------

People fawned over Hawks. They screamed his name happily whenever he was around. Actually, even when he wasn't around, he knew his name was still cheered, like it was a thing worth celebrating. Hawks was loved. Hawks was valued. Hawks was wanted.

But Keigo Takami? No, not Keigo. Keigo was filthy, sinful, disgusting. No one wanted Keigo, the son of a criminal, of a murderer. Not even Hawks wanted Keigo around. He didn't want Keigo lurking in the corners of his mind, whispering of bloodshed and bloodlines.

And so, Hawks kept Keigo hidden away where no one would find him.

Until you, that is.

-----------

“Stop.” You mumbled weakly, still trying to yank his head back with both hands. He chose to ignore the fear and panic laced in your voice as he added a few more love bites to your neck. It didn't make sense in his head why you were now rejecting him. You loved him, didn't you? You told him so yourself.

“Keigo!” You started crying when he didn't budge an inch, even going as far as running his hands under your skirt and hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties. You tried twisting away, but he quickly held you down with his feathers. Red bonded your wrists together, pinning them to the ground.

“Please! Don't!” Your breaths came out in short huffs. “Just wait-!” But he didn't want to wait anymore. He couldn't. He desperately wanted you, vulgar desires clouding his head. Vulgar desires that he started having the moment he realized his feelings for you. He knew the moment he bullied his cock into you, hit that sweet spot that'll make you see stars, you'll be singing a different tune. He just had to demonstrate that you secretly also wanted this.

After two years of friendship and about four months romantically involved, you had gained his trust. Hawks revealed Keigo to you, professing deep love and pure adoration while he was at it. You stayed, hearts in your eyes and sweetness in your smile. He fell more in love with you, promising himself to never let you go.

Keigo was the one who loomed over your naked body now, hands groping and gripping your curves while rocking his hips against yours at a quick pace. Your sweet cunt sucked him further into you, squeezing his cock deliciously tight. He pressed his nose to the crook of your neck, inhaling your pheromones gathered there.

“Please!” You choked out at a particularly hard thrust, sobbing as you turned your head away from him. He grabbed your chin, forced your gaze back to him. He wanted your eyes on him. Those pretty eyes of yours were wide open, dilated much like his, and glossy with fat tears that rolled down your face. It was cute that you cried over how good he made you feel.

“I know, Dove.” He cooed sweetly, giving in to his own delusions. “Just gimme a minute, yeah?” He paused momentarily to grab your legs and inch your knees to your ears before angling his hips just right and slamming back into you. He noticed the way your nails dug into your palms. He freed your wrists only to clasp your hands with his to keep you from drawing blood.

“You're so pretty, ya know that?” He was in your ear, chasing after his high while your velvet walls fluttered and squeezed around him. You responded with tiny whimpers, but that was okay. “‘Course, you do. You're my pretty slut. My pretty, little, confident whore.” Your cunt tightened around his cock.

“Oh, fuck.” He gasped, his breath unpleasantly fanning over your ear. “Baby, you're so fucking tight. Shit, you feel so good. So, so good f’me.” He panted and groaned, speeding up. You groaned along with him, hot tears stinging your eyes and blurring your vision. They spilled over as he continued to babble on. “Oh, holy shit, you take it so well.”

He pressed clumsy, desperate kisses to the bruises he marked on your neck, reaching down to your sloppy, wet pussy and gliding a finger over the folds until he reached your clit. He was close but he needed you to cum before he did. He couldn't leave his pretty dove unsatisfied. It just wouldn't be right.

Once your body stiffened and trembled underneath him, your cunt clumping down on his dick dizzyingly tight, he released his heavy load inside you, too pussydrunk to bother pulling out. He collapsed on top of you, twitching from his climax but still careful to not crush you. He pressed lazy kisses to your neck, murmuring ‘I love you’s to your skin.

“Love-” You gasped, too shaky to try pushing him away. “Love you-too.” Your voice strained and cracked. He kissed you before you started crying again.

Hawks was a noble hero and Keigo was a filthy sin, but you? Despite everything he'd done, you made both Hawks and Keigo feel clean.

[gilverrwrites]

I am such a sucker for characters experiencing kindness after being hurt for so long…and I bet Bruce ‘Consent is Sexy’ Wayne does too, the man *is* a professional white knight. Like yes Mister Wayne, stroke my face and tell me I’m pretty, compliment my intelligence randomly and not just to love bomb me like my crime lord ex-husband, kiss me soft before you kiss me hard. Bruce would treat you with kindness regardless, but there’s something that really pulls him in about the way you look at him every time he does or says something nice…maybe because he knows you’ve never looked at someone else like that. The way you’re trying not make it obvious that you’re desperate for his touch is certainly something - don’t worry baby, he’s not gonna make you chase or work for anything. And even though he doesn’t care about this stupid rivalry as much as Roman does, he does feel a little victory knowing that he doesn’t need need to drug you to get you excessively wet and babbling.

Good golly you came with the big guns babe.

Like my every time I read this to try and come up with a response worth reading I come out speechless cause im

I will say, the transition of being in your first ‘good’ relationship after a long term unhealthy one, for me at least, does contain those little moments.

My bf occasionally likes to bring up how for like the first 2 years of our relationship, and sometimes even to date, he’ll catch me looking at him in awe for offering me basic human decency. Just opening doors, or helping me carry my bags.

If I’d realise I’d been talking for a long time I’d stop and apologise, and he’d be like “no, no, no I like when you talk, I want to hear what you have to say.” And that was so fucking weird to me.

I was projecting when I mentioned that aftercare and the cuddling in the fic, and I’m totally doing it again now but yes, the “way you look at him every time he does or says something nice…maybe because he knows you’ve never looked at someone else like that. The way you’re trying not make it obvious that you’re desperate for his touch is certainly something - don’t worry baby, he’s not gonna make you chase or work for anything.” Has me by the neck.

Also, “he does feel a little victory knowing that he doesn’t need need to drug you to get you excessively wet and babbling.” Knocked me off my feet, you went for the throat, and I live for it.

[mrzombielover]

Hi could you please write some relationship headcanons for Tuco Salamanca? Both sfw and nsfw please :)

ohmy goshh anon u are wild for this tuco scaresssss me 😭

NSFW warning, toxic relationships, lotta drug use, canon typical violence (it’s tuco what do we expect)

SFW

When Tuco likes someone, he is all in. He is so obsessive and expects you to be 10000% loyal and devoted to him

He’s impulsive and spontaneous, will randomly insist on taking you on drives/trips at 3AM, especially when he’s high

fantasizes about taking you away to live on a ranch in mexico. if you don’t speak spanish, you’ll learn, no worries

reallyyyy wants a family. would go feral if he saw you interacting with his family- taking care of his grandparents, playing with his younger nieces/nephews- it makes him weak in the knees

likes to keep his work and domestic life separate. goes to great lengths to hide the ugly side of his work with you

of course, you know, but you’ll never have to see or meet anyone from his work if he can help it. you’ll never have to clean blood from his shirt or a carpet, he’ll take care of it.

fantasizes about protecting you 24/7. sleeps with a gun on the beside table just in case- and he’s never had to use it, but if it ever does he’s so prepared.

he knows the world is full of men who’d hurt you. who’d harass you, traffic you, drug you. he imagines himself taking care of it. shooting, strangling, breaking the bones of any scumbags who’d come near you.

on that note he is extremely jealous and possessive!!!

and you know he’s not all talk, either. would prefer if you didn’t witness it, but he’d happily violently take care of any guy who made you even remotely uncomfortable

has some lowkey stalker tendencies. not that he doesn’t trust you, just that he knows that being with him puts a target on your head. likes to tail you, it’s his idea of keeping you safe from a distance. plus, it’s kind of nice to see you naturally, whether you’re shopping or getting food or running- you just look so cute

has a surprising sweet side. yeah, he’ll manipulate and guilt trip and snap at you sometimes, but you gotta know he doesn’t mean it. when he wants to, he can totally spoil you. loves to throw his money at you, and see the look on your face when he buys you something you’ve really been wanting.

likes when you have to rely on him. it’s a bit twisted, but if you’re really drunk or high, or sick and weak, he’s happy to take care of you.

“aww, shh, chiquitita, it’s okay, i’ll take care of you, don’t worry your pretty head about it,”

NSFW

Insanely high sex drive. you can barely keep up! his hands are on you every chance he gets

loooooves high sex. would much prefer if you use, too, but it’s not vital. when he’s already on cloud fucking 9, adrenaline coursing through his veins, all he wants is you. to inhale your intoxicating scent as he pounds into you from behind.

so into rough sex. of course, he would never hurt you! but takes pride in the deep bruises left by his hands, the hickeys on your neck, bite marks on your collarbones, etc

could never be submissive i think. but he enjoys a struggle for power, he likes someone that can throw his energy back in his face, it keeps it interesting

remember when i said he really wants a family?? you guessed it he has a humongous breeding kink! doesn’t like cumming anywhere except inside you. then he pats your head and kisses your forehead and tells you you’ll be a wonderful parent

likes body worship, both ways. he knows he’s not going to heaven, but seeing you on your knees, begging for him comes pretty close. he always returns the favor, of course, his abuela taught him to be a gentleman

also very into overstimulation. partly stems from his insanely high sex drive. he just loves making you come completely undone for him, until your brain doesn’t work anymore and your legs are jello and you’re crying. he’ll lick your tears off your cheeks and tell you “just one more, i know you can do it,”

gives surpassingly good aftercare if he has the time. unless he had to make do with a quickie, sex with him lasts a looong time, and you’re both completely spent by the end. he likes to take baths after, he’ll massage your sore skin and tells you what a good job you did for him and how sweet you are

has this ultimate fantasy of fucking you while covered in the blood and brains of some inferior asshole who tried to hurt you in some way. he’ll show you how safe you are with him

[meteor752]

Idk if tropes like this are to your liking, but imagine: Hermes grooming Odysseus.

Like, some time after Ody's coronation, Hermes visits Ithica, hearing that one of his descendants now has a really important role. When he sees him, his Greek god instincts kick in, and he takes a liking to him. (like, Zeus & Ganymede, or Poseidon & Pelops)

He's always at his side, and Ody's mother is just glad that her grandpa is supporting her son. Though Hermes would mostly entertains him. When Ody falls in love with Penelope, Hermes gets really pissed off. But he believes that Ody's crush will go away. It doesn't >:3

I’m into the idea of Hermes meeting and taking a liking to Ody before the events of the musical

Like, as the god of messages and the greatest gossip to ever gossip, he catches wind of Athena potentially taking an interest in a new mortal, and not only that but one of his descendants

Oh no, nuh-uh, that won’t fly

So, before Athena introduces herself to Ody, Hermes snatches him up, becoming his godly mentor. And yes, while he did do it mainly as a show of power and territory (and also to be a bitch to his sister), Odysseus lean body, strong thighs, and intelligent eyes certainly didn’t hurt.

So while yes, Hermes would guide Odysseus into a cunning and charming king, quick on his feet and even quicker with his hands (“Every man needs to know how to steal darling, you never know when that skill might come in handy~”), he also didn’t refrain from making sure Odysseus was extremely…dependent on him. He’s his mentor after all, his ancestor, his god, it’s only fair that the young king learn to, repay the favour every now and again, if you catch my drift

Also while yes this is all in like Odyhermes context and such, I’m having many thoughts of like how the story would go if Hermes had been Ody’s mentor from the start. Mans is just twice as rude and running around stealing shit all the time. Don’t know what the fallout would be tho, cause…

​Hermes watching Odysseus rob Poseidon’s son blind (lol), wiping away a tear: I taught him so well