#tw: improper drug use

[not-the-usual-suspects]

"It's not my fault that I can't help you."

Name: Maxwell Pittman AKA: Max Age: 15 Height: 5'5" H/E Colors: Brown/Green

[>NOTE: ZAKARIAH AND MAXWELL PITTMAN HAVE A PROTECTIVE ORDER ISSUED AGAINST THEIR BIOLOGICAL PARENTS.]

Personality: Easy to befriend; is cautious due to his weakened immune system; willing to learn, regardless of the topic

Hobbies/Interests: eager and willing to do whatever his siblings want to do; most of his recent interest in school deals with diplomatic relations

Bio: The older of the two twins, Max was dealt an even worse hand than Zak was. Burdened with a weakened immune system that threatened his life, rendering him a casualty risk for the CEP, he's not been able to currently do anything to recover his health.

Growing up with his biological parents wasn't easy, either. Most of his time there is nothing but a blank space or a blur. He was consistently sedated outside of the meager meals he was given to keep him alive, which let him know that his parents were doing the bare minimum to keep him alive as a way to garner pity from others.

When he woke up in Sapphyra and Rusty's home, he was understandably confused, but seeing that Zak was there helped him to relax. He allowed a doctor to work with him and give him the medical attention he needed (despite his obvious aversion to needles), because he was tired of being asleep all the time - he wanted to actually live his life.

Whenever he has to go outside, he's never far from Rusty or Zak's watchful gaze, a specialized mask on his face to help him breathe easier and protect him from airborne illnesses. Despite the hand he'd been dealt from the start, he's learned to work with it and make his life his own.

[i-never-grew-up]

I so badly wanna get drunk off of vanilla extract

[doodlenoodleboi]

Sally face head cannons

Authors note: If you don’t specify I’m gonna pick for you most of the time it’s gonna be headcanons, they tend to be easier and quicker to write.

TW: Not professional, might have misspellings and improper grammar, I just do this for fun. Nsfw, mentions of drugs, stoner Larry, Larry is 2 years older then Sal, some non accurate writing I haven’t watched or played Sally face in years but remember the general plot. Btw when this wrote Sal is 17-19

SFW

◦ Sal doesn’t have the best relationship with his father.

◦ Sal tends to get misgendered a lot to the point he doesn’t even correct people he couldn’t care less anyways and hates unnecessary confrontation.

◦ Sal keeps his glass eye on his bedside table and one nice he actually drunk out of the cup.

◦ Sal isn’t the best at saving money when it comes to video games. He doesn’t spend his money on much In high school besides games for his game boy and other systems.

◦ Sal loves rock music and listens to music whenever he can, he owns an old stereo along with a walk man and mp3 player. (Keep in mind his teen years are in the 90’s)

◦ Along with his hair Sal also ventured in make up in skincare.

◦ Because half of his face being disfigured he tried his best to at least look normal with make up and help it heal better with skincare.

◦ Sal has the worst split ends and uneven layers because he never actually had his hair cut properly he always has done it himself.

◦ Sal is rather geeky when it comes down to it, owning as much technology as he could by in the 90’s.

◦ Sal is most comfortable showing his face to Larry among anyone else almost like a big brother to him of sorts.

◦ Sal gets rather socially awkward when it comes to people liking him so you would have to be in his friend group to have a chance of a relationship or some established connection before hand.

◦ Once you and Sal become friends as he’s comfortable with you expect things like him painting your nails and rocking out to music

◦ If he does later show romantic interest in you before he shows you his face he will be anxious about what you’ll think about him after he shows you.

◦ He’ll even teach you how to play his guitar if you’re interested.

NSFW

F

◦ Sal Is obviously a virgin it’s hard to get close to him let alone take of his mask so you’ll have to have patience to get to this stage.

◦ For-play could be longer then the actual sex for the first time and he might back out from nervousness before you guys can even start.

◦ Sal is not a shy guy maybe introverted but not shy but moments like this make him extremely vulnerable so he’s flustered and embarrassed.

◦ If you find the courage to kiss him he has his mask on he’s whipped. He would be a flustered and embarrassed mess and he might even tell Larry about how exciting it was. You were probably his first kiss as well.

◦ Sal would be around 5 inches 5.5 hard (let’s be realistic here ain’t nobody taking much past that.) Just enough to reach the back of you’re and make you gag.

◦ Sal even if he’s isn’t pornhub but still likes to prep you, after all sex is a rather sacred thing so he tries his best to treat you with care even with his inexperience.

◦ He would probably be a nervous teenager at the back of Spencer’s trying to find lube (that doesn’t get used) and other things trying not to be seen. Covering up this purchases with a rock album or something of equal value.

◦ Sal is big on after care asking you how it was if it wasn’t obvious, he would be nervous after and still not realizing he actually did that.

◦ Sal isn’t big on giving hickeys but he doesn’t mind being especially on his jawline and neck. When talking to his friends he will just say it a bruise or injury just that’s always been there. But it’s almost obvious that it’s not.

◦ Once you’ve done it once he’s nervous to ask for you to do it again so he does enjoy make out session to keep him down.

◦ Sal didn’t heavily masturbate before hand honestly rarely doing it at all until he had sex once and now that’s all he thinks about ever since.

◦ He loves laying kisses against you when doing it but never hickeys as he’s a bit scared of hurting you.

◦ He holds your hands during sex for comfortability.

◦ His favorite positions would probably be missionary and cowgirl he’s a pretty vanilla switch.

◦ Mostly a service top and a shy bottom, it’s not like he’s generally shy he just gets embarrassed seeing you on top but overtime he gets used to it.

Sorry i accidentally deleted the request!

@mrmIlde for those who asked!

[mossangelll]

Yandere!Jinx x Reader

Bath Time 🛁🫧

a/n: decided to indulge my weird thoughts…sorry for any grammar/tense mistakes i wanted to write this down so bad i barely proofread 😭

pic from @arcanescreencaps

tw: afab reader, dubcon, improper drug use, smut but nothing too detailed - mdni

Why did you have to be so stupid and sprain your arm? It wasn’t even that bad, just some mild swelling and a touch of discomfort - in the outside world, where you still had independence and freedom, you would’ve handled it perfectly fine.

But you’re with Jinx now, holed away in her den where she treats you like you’re made of glass. In another life her doting care would’ve been such a welcome comfort but here it’s like being stuck under the hot summer sun, stifling and oppressive. She had decided you were too injured to care for yourself so she took over instead. It was finally time for you to have a shower and no matter how loudly you protested she decided that she needed to bathe you to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself even more.

What a load of bullshit.

So, after your ‘tantrum’, she had wrestled you into the bathroom. The tub was almost full to the brim with bubbles and even a…graffitied rubber duck floated along the still surface.

You grip onto your towel and look back at Jinx, who stares you down with a look that says ‘drop it’. You don’t dare challenge her silent demand, you upset her enough by hurting yourself - you’d rather not be punished again.

Your shaking hands let go of the fluffy towel clenched in your iron grip knowing you can’t delay the inevitable any longer. Her eyes seem to darken the second your towel is on the floor, eyes roving your naked body as she bites her lip. Tears well in your eyes at being subjected to something so, so humiliating.

You jump into the tub without a second’s hesitation; all you want to do is sink under the water and drown but you know Jinx would never let that happen. You settle for using the bubbles as a sort of cover to protect yourself from her wandering gaze. She kneels down at the side of the tub getting all the toiletries she would use ready.

She’s oddly quiet as she takes a sponge and douses it with apple scented body wash, her body wash. Her hands are careful as they scrub at your your back, apologising whenever one of her long nails happens to catch on your skin.

It’s not so bad, you think. The water is warm and Jinx had started humming one of your favourite songs. You don’t like the fact that nothing of yours really belongs to you anymore, but you downright despise the way you actually like the way her scratchy voice follows the music.

“Ya know, my sister used to do this for me back when I was little…” Her voice seems so small and pensive as her train of thought wanders off into the heaviness of the humid air as she continues to scrub.

You wait for her to continue but she’s clammed up, focusing instead on getting you clean. The only times you heard about this mysterious sister was when you set her off and she would rampage, letting loose little details her and there in her episodes.

Your heart aches for her but you don’t even know why. She kidnapped and hurt you but still she finds a way to infiltrate every aspect of your being.

Her hands travel to your neck and arms, a trail of suds following her circular motions. Your eyes are closed as you relish in her ministrations before they’re suddenly jolting open, realising where Jinx's hand has stopped.

“Toots, you, uh, don’t mind if I make sure you’re all clean?” Her low voice calls out, eyes glued to where the tops of your thighs would be under the suds and bubbles.

Her fingers tremble under the water, sponge drifting closer to the apex of your legs. You find yourself squeezing your eyes shut out of instinct when you realise how ruddy the apples of her cheeks are, how heavy the pants that rumble out from deep down her chest are. You try to angle your body away from her leering gaze but there’s no point - the tub is too tight and you don’t want to risk her anger at getting everything soaked.

You don’t even bother answering her indulgent question as you know she’s not truly asking you feel about her endeavour.

Your chest is tight with fear and anticipation like ripping off a sticky bandaid that you know is going to sting.

The sponge delves between your legs.

You gasp at the sensation of the porous sponge the feeling so shocking, your thighs tremble in response.

At first she really is just cleaning you and you suppose she would’ve had to do it at some point. You relax thinking you can let your guard down - she’ll move onto your legs and soon you’ll be done. Soon you can forget all about this experience.

But she doesn’t stop. The sponge is now petting you, her delicate manner swapped for harder pressure. Your legs squirm and you try not to keen at the sensation. What is she doing?!

The damp heat in the enclosed room must be getting to your head. You feel a delirious, warmth spreads from the base of your feet and up, up, up; you have to fight just to remind yourself that she is your captor. She is insane and she will stop at nothing to keep you with her, even if it means killing you and taking herself with you.

And still, despite the mantra you repeat, your head feels impossibly heavy and you have to lean your head back just to ease the pressure. She rubs at a particularly sensitive spot and you can’t help but let a small moan slip out from your lips.

Jinx’s perceptive link eyes dart up to look at your contorted face, travelling down your neck and stopping just where the bubbles meet your breasts.

God, you don’t want her to think you’re enjoying what’s happening to you.

But it’s clear she does as the blush on her face travels down to her chest and it’s like she’s a flashing red flag screaming danger but you can’t find it in you to pull away. She lips her chapped lick and grinds the sponge even harder against your clit as your hips cant towards her searing touch.

Jinx has never initiated anything sexual before and now here you are mewling for her as if anything about this situation is normal. You hate yourself so much for giving into her but your brain is so scattered and you’re too tired to revolt against her.

Electricity is sparking down your spine like a live wire in water and you feel yourself reaching your peak so close and just right and-

Jinx pulls her hand out of the water like she’s been burnt. Her eyes blown wide and she seems to be shaking - why has she stopped? She shakes her head as if to clear the stray thoughts that vacate her mind.

How could she do this to? Humiliate you by treating you like a child and then touching you so intimately knowing she wasn’t even going to stick around? Your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and you just want to drag her back so she can touch you more.

Her body is stiff as she stands up to dry her hands like nothing even happened between you two.

“I need to uh…finish a job for Silco. You know me, shirking all my work! He’ll kill me if I don’t leave right now at this very second. Yeah.”

Her voice wobbles as she rambles on and you can tell by the way her eyes shift as she avoids your gaze that it’s a lie. You know she knows that you’re aware of this fact. You scoff with a roll of your eyes and splash your foot in the water, booting the rubber duck out of the tub and it plops out with a distorted quack. You feel used, even more so when you realise the fire in your stomach seems to be burning stronger for Jinx.

She scurries over to the exit, hand reaching for the door handle, eager to make her escape before she pauses, turning to look at you one last time.

“You can finish bathing yourself, right sweet cheeks?” Her face is still dusted with pink and her eyes are glazed with wonderment as she stares down. You slowly nod your head yes, anything to get her to leave you alone.

Jinx takes her leave and shuts you in to be alone with your thoughts. She waits for a second to hear for the splash of the water before sliding down the door, long blue pigtails pooled at her feet. Her eyes are closed in bliss and she brings the hand that was washing you to her mouth, taking a tentative lick - as if she’s committing the taste of you to her memory.

A small grin erupts on her face - today was a victory.

She needs to let Singed know that this new shimmer variant was a success, a great one, and she needs more.

masterlist

[bokunoheros]

ཐིཋྀ KINKTOBER - day 12 squirting : shouta aizawa/eraserhead

warnings : afab reader, reader and aizawa are married, y’all have a cat, pussy slapping (pun probably intended), this is doo-doo dog shit, like this actually sucks, doo doo fart ass, dookie, poo poo fart, smegma, this fic reads like what sharting yourself feels like, this fic smells like the family bathroom at walmart, we’re fucking twelve (not literally), don’t expect anything else genuinely, butt, pretend this was never posted, PLEASE, day 12 is NOT REAL, THEY HIT THE PENTAGON— MR PRESIDENT GET DOW— bill gates did it, bill cypher is canon, squirting, fingering idk, eating ass, butthole rimming, 2024 election, ellen digestive did 9/11, Trump x Biden, 9/11, hilary emails included, proof of aliens existence, video footage of the area 51 raid, UFOs, alien butt sex, wrong usage of condoms, anal probing, biological dna harboring, sickle cell anemia, KLANCE is canon, Steven universe, major character death, gem fusions, love children, feel like cinderella naega byeonhae, NETFLIX ORIGIONAL, only on Hulu, Elsa x Jackfrost smut, playdough, me x YOU, tiana x nanami au, your mom x me, sarcamouche x kazuha, xiao x venti, improper use of crack cocaine, making herion, mentions of drug mules, dead dove: do eat, improper use of magic, meth making, cocaine balloons bursting, Harry Potter x Snape, hermoine x the whomping willow, herobrine x steve, unfortunate uses of pixels, bakudeku slime, hnnng harder daddy, mmhppgh— yeah yeah right there, cum consumption, cumflation, feeder fetish, oh yeah, koolaid man x me, very improper use of koolaid packets, nickacaco avocado weight loss journey, apology videos (tears included), , banjos, jake paul dcead body in forest footage (NOT CLICKBAIT), live leak posts, webtoon origional, anal stretching, did you know the human anus can stretch to the size of a raccoon?, now you know that, and also, the sun will explode June 17th, 3028, character flaws, bodily anatomy, your balls will explode on october 21st at 7:99am, my gleeby deeby ass, futurama, Micheal Angelo, improper use of abortions, medical surgery on a grape, plastic surgery, baby killing, tampon usage, description of endangered animal poaching, Mario Kart, tuberculosis, ima get it donnnne oh aye oh aye oh, butt stuff, dazai x chuuya, atsushi x akutagawa, mpreg, mad cow disease, omegaverse, ranpo x me, Dream SMP, matpat x scott cowthan, michael afton x freddy fazbear, aggressive typing, bath salts, bath salt inhalation, whippets, galaxy gas, all might is a bottom, skinny men, carrington x shigaraki, anorexia anorexia anorexia, afo x nana shimura, BLOODY MARY, BLOODY MARY, BLOODY MARY, TW gun law debates, tenko x mon, Amazon delivery, school shootings, talk of gun laws, bad dragon toys, silicon, aoyama belly button leaking, lego ninjago r34, ninja turtles r34, bloody mary r34, kamala harris r34, tenya iida x tensei iida, jesus x judas, luigi x bowser, sonic and shadow makeout sesh, i fuck your dad, suck his dick reallll nice, penis sounding with dirty twig, orgasm denial, overstimulation, xenotransplants, oviposition, diaper Taco Bell, people die, revival, dark magic, ecoterrorism, global warming, chemical warfare, wanda x the winter soldier, haruhi x tamaki suoh, cosmo x wanda, comicon, bronies, pegasisters, mentions of twilight sparkle dying, twiilight sparkle x mordecai, air planes, shootings stars, night skies, NLE Choppa, we could really use a wish bro, TuPac is back, floppa carts: plompy haze, death of a platform known as tumblr, twitter referred to as X, elon musk creates sex robot that specializes in butthole sex, Tesla sex robot, androids that FUCK, necrophilia, android phone usage, pheromones, premonitions and words of Jesus, divine intution, potion making, heavenly visions, satan, satanic visions, the heavenly principles, celestia is above mondstadt, spiritual healing, veganism, white washing, canon hispanic hanta sero, futanari, blasian mina ashido, bovine spongiforms, Tenya Iida virginity loss, bakugo is a fucking faggot, handjobs, footjobs, peaceful protests, the government is controlling you through vaccines, asian fishing,

vaccines might cause autism, freshwater fishing, they will, xenophobia, hentai hucows, incest, usage of slurs, starbucks coffee, lizards run the world, obama might be a lizard, inappropriate use of baby oil, gojo x getou, day twelve never existed and it was all a lie.

word count : 420k words and 69 pages

🐙 note : we are not locked in we are as loose as a ran through sorority president

🦊 note : i am. i have no words. idek what happened. we ran out of time so we went with the option we thought might make people giggle (no we didnt we did this bullshit for ourselves)(your regularly scheduled content will resume tmr!)

🪲 note : i ain’t fucking sorry

you adored your husband—shouta aizawa—so much so, that you were his dedicated housewife. he made plenty of money as a pro hero and… enough… as a teacher, so that left you to take care of the house and your shared cat. though when he did come home he was way different than he was at work, usually at work he was all nonchalant and cold but at home he was sweet and caring, sometimes even a bit rough. his students would definitely describe him as laid back and uninterested, yet when you were around they were in awe of his personality shift.

[ria-writes-stuff]

Cruel Summer Whump: Day 11

@cruelsummerwhump

Cruel Summer - Whump Event - Chapter 12 - Ria_Writes_Stuff - Minecraft (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

Prompt: "Said I'm fine, but it wasn't true"

How I interpreted it: literal translation

TWs: hiding injuries, mentioned beating, improper use of painkillers

Words: 501

Ranboo was shaking as he snuck out of the Heroes Tower.

Well- it was less 'sneak' and more 'walk out in broad daylight, wave to the secretaries, and try to hide the fact he was about to start crying in the middle of his workplace".

It was a miracle that he'd made it this far, honestly. He supposed the shock and adrenaline had been enough last night to get him up the stairs and staggering to his bed, and he'd been lucky (a strange word to use but true) enough that Teagon had decided to rough him up only a street or so away from the Tower, and he'd only had to navigate a few blocks with what he was fairly certain were broken ribs to get back.

He'd downed twice his usual dose of meds to sleep, and then again this morning to get through training. He was fairly certain Puffy had noticed something wrong, but honestly he'd been so high on painkillers that she probably could've danced the polka in a kilt and he barely would've noticed.

He definitely damaged them further since then, taking blow after blow during basic training, fighting back what the drugs couldn't with his stupidly high pain tolerance, but he couldn't exactly go to the Healers on hand and tell them that he'd somehow broken his own ribs during a training session that was almost certainly not hard enough to cause permanent damage.

Doc's concern had leaked even through her lighthearted texts, informing him she'd be outside the Tower as soon as she could. He just needed to make it down and out, and then this could be over.

And so naturally, Puffy caught him right before he reached the exit.

"Ranboo!" she called, hurrying to catch him before he entered the public section of the Tower, "Just a moment-"

Ranboo wiped hurriedly at his eyes, summoning as real a smile as he could, "What's up, Puffy?" he asked carefully, "I was just heading out-"

"That's what I'm here about, actually- before you go, I'd like you to pay a quick visit to the Healers. You were moving strangely in training, and I'd feel better if you got a check up."

Ranboo blanched. Well- he went as white as an albino could go, anyway.

"That's- that's not necessary," he laughed, only slightly hysterically, "I'm fine, Puffy, I promise."

He barely managed to hold back the pained gasp as she set a gentle hand on his shoulder, jostling his ribs slightly.

"I know you have a pretty high pain tolerance, is all," she continued, eyes narrowing as she read his reaction, "I don't want you walking around injured-"

"I said I'm fine-" Ranboo regretted snapping the moment the words were out of his mouth, but he was already batting Puffy's hand away, and stepping backwards, "I'll see you later."

He could apologise later, he told himself as he speed-walked out of the Tower, Puffy didn't deserve his ire. But for now- he really needed Doc.

[anastachord]

wtf ao3 tags - the sequel

vampire ballet

Slap Slap Kiss

Irish Republicanism

Setting Zombies on Fire

Woke Up Gay

Autoerotic Asphyxiation

i was raised a catholic and went to religious schools so this is the time to exploit that

There isn't a tag for titties OR man titties and that's really disappointing

a sheep farm

Happy Enging

they are GAY and they are STUPID

Misue of Louisiana Slang

FEDDY FABEAR

Subway Meet-Cute

YO-HO-HO HERE WE GO BITCHES

hehe

actual chicken

nae nae swag

tossing salad

Zuho puts coins up his nose

stanky leg

the transgenderification of the ninja turtles

Improper use of OceanGate's Titan Submarine

when the sound "mmmm" is a weapon

Inappropriate use of butterflies

impending doom

that's not what windows are for

when blushing causes an existential crisis

flirting via security cameras

pretending everything is fine when it's clearly NOT

I swear to god there's a happy ending in here somewhere please believe me

Warning: reading this may require the use of a defibrillator

Inappropriate use of mayonnaise

unholy use of mayonnaise

the looming threat of a fedora

zombie chickens covered in jam

religion...???

violence against musical instruments

the mechanics of a good hug

I have been told reading this fix has curative properties, I have also been told that it has killed people

ill advised climbing

this fic is chicken noodle soup for your soul

accidental improper use of setting tablet

screams into the sun

i claim my right to remain silent your honour

I'm happy to announce that I'm back on my bullshit

Inappropriate use of tv

teeth extraction kink

mind fucking, literally

innapropriate use of a santa hat

Reader gets peeled like a grape

torture, visualize peeling a banana

improper use of a detached arm

eats a mushroom and becomes a communist

Inappropriate use of a McDonalds cup

improper use of religiously oriented yogurt

the homeless man i gave a burger to in 2017

Non con bc lamps can't consent

improper use of a wine bottle (it doesn't break)

whipped cream as lube

improper use of a decomposed finger

no children were actually kidnapped, just temporarily acquired

ovary popping like grapes

Improper use of goose

soap uses drugs and alcohol to cope with being a furry

Sharpened Bones of Brendan Urie

improper use of a swiffer wetjet

OceanGate Titan Submarine/RMS Titanic (Anthropomorphic)

Tennis, i dont know how to play tennis

Questionable anger management solutions

setting off fireworks in hands

An abundance of baby oil

submarine sandwich

the mortifying ordeal of discovering you're into bdsm while you're caught up in a political intrigue

Unacceptable use of tragedy

spoilers for the bible... i guess??

exploitation of magical swords

Bees

improper use of duct tape that would make OSHA cry

Punching your future father in law in the face as a metaphor for love

smut bit also i'm too scared to write it

ryan reynolds - Freeform

sharks dying

A walking brick of cocaine

The Curse of the Bonus Vajayjay

Refrigerator

Brief mentions of a dog in a top hat

that one song by the buttholes of whatever the fuck they're called

Sink me like one of your French girls

Biblically Incorrect

Moose

a decade-long streak of Pining is ruined by a false hickey

Tim is homophobic??

this is half smut and half roasting two thirty year old men for being fucking stupid

something that is sort of crossdressing but not really

holy shit barbed dick is already a tag, i fucking love the internet

Robbery, by a dumbass

human toilet

Abuse of gummy worms

someone please help this fish

Mentions of heterosexuality

yogurt (i can explain)

Nuns

Tim gets fucking attacked

weirdly sexual cheeseburgers

university of arkansas

Out of Character, but I'm out of fucks so it's fine

TW straight people

car seats as an expression of love

alarm clock to lovers

it's not game of thrones inspired but it's not not game of thrones inspired so

shoe licking

Inappropriate use of Logitech controllers

Decidedly non-platonic BDSM

how to create a romance epic for dummies

aggressive mutual caretaking

the usual amount of murdering characters in my fics

weirdly long talks about fnaf lore

All the men die but the boats are okay

SPOILER: it is not an egg!!

yelling at people to show you care

set in australia in my hometown but that affects literally nothing

somehow a harmonica gets involved

Top Shadow the Hedgehog

Elevator Butt

gru's noise

Accidental Uncle Acquisition

frog tie

Quantum Mechanics, but wikipedia's version, so take that with a grain of salt

a crazy amount of john mulaney reference that carries on for multiple chapters for some reason

sadist slime

questionable use of dortitos

scandalous use of musical vocabulary

swallowed alive

human on mushroom violence

misuse of whirlpool baths

sir this is a Wendy's pull up your pants

let me delulu in peace

the eternal question of who is doing the laundry

screaming into the void

somewhere ogre the rainbow

a random horse appears

Mentions of a goat

don't let your memes be dreams

shrek eats beans

Santa Claus has seen some shit

green cow milk

erotic birth

unhealthy relationship but in a spicy way

a truly pathetic amount of pining

gratuitous use of Narwhals

one sorta severed limb but not really

putting the fun in funeral

tragedy my lord

is it murder when they die themselves?

meet tired

falling in love over a coffin

dirt as a love language

Sugar Daddy Voldemort

Florida AU

Canonical Character Death, It gets better I promise, the death not the fic

what's the tag for come coming out of your nose

Tentacle Dick, actually more dolphin dick but no one needs to know what i looked up for this

if you guys KNEW my google search history right now

There are deer that are wizards that have human hands

Multiple historical events were caused by a sentient pitcher of Kool-Aid

[cryptid-writer]

Some of my favorite and most fucked up scenes for Mukuro so far

TW: Unhealthy relationships, manipulation, abuse, abuse by a medical professional, implied underage drug use, implied underage drinking, improper questioning of a minor

Disclaimers

Mukuro regularly refers to Kurogiri as "Aba" which is Arabic for dad/father. I've debated changing it due to Israel being a terrorist state, but have decided against it as several countries (primarily Egypt comes to mind) that aren't Isreal use Arabic as a language. If this bothers you, do not continue reading.

This isn't the first time Tsukauchi has encountered Mukuro. He's met the kid a couple times before, usually because some hero found the kid. He popped up on the radar because of his resemblance to a missing persons case, however every time the kid is questioned none of his statements are lies.

His name is Shigiraki Mukuro, he's about 15 years old, he lives mostly with his older brother and Aba because quote; “Father is very sick, he needs all sorts of machines to help him breathe.”

Whenever asked questions like “did you see anything tonight” he'll respond with vague answers, but there is no sign of deceit behind the answers. Mukuro is in some ways a little kid, yet in others unfathomable mature.

It's baffling and off-putting every time he talks to the kid, which isn't helped by the fact that Tsukauchi is Mukuros favorite among the police force, and this time is no different.

For once the kid wasn't being questioned because a hero thought Mukuro was being abused or was a runaway, this time it was for obstruction of justice. The thought makes the detective snort and shake his head in amusement.

Mukuro doesn't have an evil bone in his body, he's just a kid who takes vague questions very literally.

———

He laughs brightly whenever he gets odd looks for his appearance. Paler than death, curly mess of green-gray hair, cracked lips stained near black with dried blood.

The first time Mukuro meets a lot of people they seem bewildered he's a teenager and not a malnourished adult. He’ll lean back as he grips the counter and laugh as he swings his legs, enjoying the way their eyes all but pop out in shock. The way many of them lose the ability to speak as he sips whatever is put in his vicinity, not caring what it is. He’ll breathe out his smoke, try anything once, experience everything he can.

Mukuro hungers for knowledge. It is gluttony at its fullest, there is little he won't do to learn. The itch of his quirk manifesting in odd ways, a match made in the underground. A quirk that pushes the user to seek out new situations and environments paired with a mind that soaks up everything like a sponge.

He's happy, Tomura is happy, really the two brothers don't need anymore than that. Tomura has someone to play games with, someone who's unassuming and thus the perfect spy. Mukuro is wanted, cared for.

Small unassuming Mukuro, who heroes can't help but save when he's in “distress”. Heroes who don't realize he's a trap, that he's playing them like a fiddle as they reassure the scared teenager. A teenager who looks neglected, abused, and homeless. He can play the helpless kid and act like no tomorrow, sometimes even nii-chan is convinced.

Those heroes often end up spilling their guts to him or accidentally give him sensitive information.

Little Mukuro, who will do anything his nii-chan asks not out of fear but out of love. He'll do it because nii-chan asked, because nii-chan and aba and father are the only family he has.

He'll do it because people are so easy to silently pick apart when they don't perceive a threat.

———

Father has talked about getting him his own attendant, much like aba is to nii-chan. Mukuro doesn't think he'd mind having another family member, though he thinks nii-chan might get a little jealous if someone joined their misfit band.

Father just shakes his head fondly and reaches a massive hand out to gently ruffle the boys hair. Mukuro giggles as his curls tickle his face and neck, then settles down at his fathers feet with his notebook. He watches the screens that illuminate the room intently, absorbing all information he can gleam from the footage.

Deep down Mukuro knows he's kept around because to All For One; Father; Sensei, he's like a pet. Kept for entertainment and to keep Tomura calm. He knows this yet chooses to stay, where else would he go. Who else would let him just exist as he is. So he really doesn't mind being some glorified pet to the boogeyman.

———

Izuku wakes to blond hair and crimson eyes in his hospital room from the corner of his good eye and panics. He feels like a coiled spring as he falls out of the bed flailing, trying to get away.

The flailing rips his IV out unintentionally, it hurts, there's blood all over his arm now. Running, running, dripping. His wild movements splatter it in wide arcs across the room. The sterile room becomes the beginning of some twisted version of a Jackson Pollock work.

The heart monitor, having been disconnected from the movement, wails as it triggers an alarm. The sticky nodes that have been put on his chest stay, though the wires and tubes pop away from the ports. Twisted and yanked.

Izuku is so panicked that his vision won't focus and he freaks out when there's suddenly a looming figure towering over him from where he is on the floor, gasping and sobbing as he loudly begs for Katsuki not to hurt him again. He apologizes for a million things he has no control over.

A hand roughly grabs his arm and he goes rigid before the instinct to get away kicks in, scrambling helplessly on the floor. He's trying to pull away so hard that his arm pops out of the socket and he injures himself further.

He screams as his bones pull apart, still trying to get away only to be pinned to the floor. The arm his IV was in is twisted behind him painfully as the looming figure puts all of their weight on his back and chest. Unable to expand his lungs all he can do is lay there gasping helplessly until the world goes black.

There is one fleeting thought as he loses consciousness, why isn't anyone helping him? Why won't anyone ever save him, even when he's so clearly desperately asking to be saved.

———

[giadadraven]

Okay okay so Xenia refers to the ancient cultural ideal and practice of hospitality rites. I say ideal And practice because most of what I studied of it comes from ancient writing and oral tradition. Most of our extant literature that features it tends to be the body of myth (such as the odyssey, the tales of Theseus, or later writers like Ovid) so the actual extent that it was put into practice by common folk can’t be assumed based on that.

So, you know the idea and stereotype of Southern Hospitality? This idea that folk in the southern US are more welcoming to outsiders and will help them/go out of their way to help? Or even stories all over the world of someone with nothing to their name showing up at a strangers home and being fed and clothed? Those have their roots and are modern forms of Xenia!!

Xenia had two parts/sides to it: the host and the guest

As the guest (and again most of my study was of the Homeric tradition) you would be able to rock up to the home of any civilized person and could expect to be invited in without suspicion. Based on the livelihood of your host, you would be fed, offered clothing and rest, and it would be improper for your host to question you too heavily until after you had been rested. If they could, when you took your leave the host would send you on your way with gifts (supplies, though kings hosting other royals would give greater gifts)

As the host (most of our knowledge is of kings hosting though there are tales of commoners too) you would accept in these strangers and do all of the above! In Return (because this was a social contract) then your guest would do what they could to help you. In the ancient way this would be aiding you with small issues, providing stories to your people or partaking in feast libations and funeral games (you see this in the Odyssey, which is mostly told as a flashback of Odysseus telling his story to the Phaeacians). Today this could be telling a good story as well, a less accurate one is restocking them on something you used up while there (like buying them a case of water because you drank some of it).

The contract part comes in after the parting of ways. As the guest you could expect all these things, right? That’s because once you leave, your hosts could expect the same and better should they come to visit you. Sorta like a one up competition for hosting. A “you’re my friend now, we’re having soft tacos later” lol

The reason why Polyphemus the cyclops was such a major sticking point in the Odyssey was because he violates xenia (which is treated as a connection to the gods as well). So here’s a cyclops, son of Poseidon, who not only refuses them hospitality, eats cheese and milk (there’s a great article about this called Eaters of Cheese, Drinkers of Milk or something similar that goes into how these two traits were treated as barbaric behaviors), *and* he kills them. That last one is the worst offense of all!

Odysseus initiated that social contract by giving the wine, right? First offense: asking his name. Second offense: killing the men. Third offense: bringing Poseidon into it. You know who was the god of Xenia?? Zeus!! Instead, Polyphemus invoked his father

Yes, Odysseus drugged the wine (a very interesting moment, because this is a man using (arguably) pharmaka aka magic. We see this elsewhere with Helen wife of Menelaus drugging her husband and Telemachus to full their grief). But we love our wily cunning and unreliable narrator Odysseus! Ancient heroes were not always the good guy, but their status as heroes were what separated cunning (good) and cunning (bad)

As for how it applied to common folk! There’s a tale from Ovid’s Metamorphoses of a very poor elderly couple being visited by two beggars. The couple invite them in, and there are bowls instead of cups. Their table has a piece of terracotta under one leg to even it out. It’s a one room home, and the old man offers them fish from their fire while sitting on his bed (on the ground). These two beggars reveals themselves to be Zeus (specifically in his aspect of xenia and justice) and Hermes.

In return for the couples generosity, the gods thank them for keeping the practice of Xenia and transform their home into one of modest luxury. They have the promise of always being provided for and will never go hungry or cold ever again.

But why only test this couple? Well, they didn’t. They tested the whole village on the lake and this was the only house to abide by the divine law of xenia. As retribution, Zeus raises the water level of the lake so only the elderly couple are above water and he transforms every single other person in the village into fish.

The Youths these days. Barbaric. Don't even know what xenia is anymore

[caring-for-crewmates]

can i hotbox with my beans?

No. Drugs are bad.

[not-the-usual-suspects]

"If I could get away with it, I'd teach you to leave my family alone."

Name: Zakariah Pittman AKA: Zak, Zakary Age: 15 Height: 5'9" H/E Colors: Blonde/Blue

[>NOTE: ZAKARIAH AND MAXWELL PITTMAN HAVE A PROTECTIVE ORDER ISSUED AGAINST THEIR BIOLOGICAL PARENTS.]

Personality: Closed off due to being cautious; fiercely defensive of his older twin; eager to learn, but afraid of being wrong

Hobbies/Interests: excels in hand-to-hand and other close ranged combat styles, and can often be seen sparring with Rusty; a budding interest in what other cultures deem to be "demonic" and seeing if there is any truth to the myths

Bio: Zak's life wasn't the best, and the cards he was dealt only made it worse. Being the younger of the two, you would imagine that it would be the older protecting the younger, but in reality the roles have been flipped: Zak ends up protecting Max more often than not, and easily resorts to violence if the situation can't be resolved with words.

Living with their biological parents, he was subject to abuse just for defending Max. Despite how he tried to keep them from sedating Max as a way to not deal with his illnesses, it never seemed to work, and they always found a way to do so.

One night, he found out that it wasn't medical anesthetics they had used to sedate Max, and that was enough to spur him into action.

Carrying his older sibling on his back, he managed to slip out from their parents' careful watch, slipping away into the alleys of the City to try and recuperate from what had happened to them. It was only when Max was awake that he realized just how ill his brother had become, and resorted to scrounging through dumpsters and garbage cans to try and find ways to keep them fed and clothed.

One fateful night, he managed to be going through the can at the side of Sapphyra and Rusty's home, at a point where the latter was coming out to dispose of some waste. He convinced Zak to come inside, and Sapphyra made them both a hot meal they could eat.

He came back at two in the morning, begging for help as Max's condition was only getting worse.

Since being taken in, it's been a learning curve for both of them. Zak has had to learn that not all doctors are bad, and not all of them have it out for his brother. He's also had to learn that not all adults are bad, even if they look scary. And he's learned that family can be a good thing, and he's never been more at peace.

[thecameronchronicles]

Give It To Me

TW: Smut. Degrading language. Rough sex. Threat with a weapon. A little bit of blood. Drug use. 

SUMMARY: When you toy with Rafe, he decides to put you in your place. 

WORD COUNT: 1900

*Requested* 

Give It To Me

“All right, all right…justone,”You heard him speak beneath his breath as you watched him as he stormed forward, bowing over the table of the shed, his father’s fishing supplies just out of view from where you’d watch him succumb to yet another craving of the White Lady. 

“You know that stuff could kill you, right?” You teased, as he’d flash his set of stormy blue eyes in your direction, now dilated with the effects of his prime vice. As much as you hated to admit it, you loathed how witnessing him slowly self destruction had an effect on you. 

Of course, you kept this veiled beneath banter that was usually returned. But something worn over his expression at this moment had revealed that he was anything but in the mood. And yet, you couldn’t fathom watching him as he prepared another line of his dime bag, therefore you lunged forward until you were able to possess it within your gasp. 

The way his body climbed behind his palms until he towered over you was erotically entertaining as every line of his physique seemed defined in this moment of tension. Your eyes fixated longer than what was appropriate as he pinned you back against the table. 

“Give It-Give it to me-GIVE IT TO ME.” He commanded from clenched teeth, his grip harshly wrapped around your wrist as he forced the bag from your hand. 

For just a moment, you were breathless as he’d never been quite this close to you, your own body betraying the thoughts you should have of him. The details were a bit messy, but complicated is where the Cameron family thrived. Thankfully, you were only a part of this ‘family’ due to the marriage of your adoptive aunt, Rose, and Rafe’s father Ward. Therefore your only familial link made these feelings improper but not illegal-although they should have been…

“What are you doing?” You finally asked, breaking from the trance his close proximity forced against you. Immediately, his hand rose to his chest, broadcasting his usual dramatics. 

“I…I’ve gotta a stepmother who lies to me…And all of you think I’m stupid…” He paused, beginning to pace the small space set in length just before the door, his eyes rising and falling to you every so often as you kept yourself at a distance as the darkness behind his gaze was something new; something you’d only everseen when he looked at pogues. Never to you.

“You think I believe that line of shit about how you don’t know where the gold is?” Your heart raced at an impossible pace. 

“I-I d-ddon’t-” You stuttered, never intimidated by him to this degree, but over this last summer, he seemed to change from the sheepish boy trapped beneath his father’s shadow to one fighting to find his own. It was annoyingly arousing as this confidence was almost as addictive to the remnants on the very edge of his nose. 

He responded to your reaction with a cock of his head, blowing past his lips as if to blow out a birthday candle while still wearing a smirk, your eyes never wavering as he moved closer to you still. 

“Do you think that I don’t see you? Always slithering around…eavesdropping on conversations?” He asked you, continuing to advance slowly towards you, beads of sweat having now formed over his forehead from his passion of your moment shared. 

“So you expect me to believe that you don’t know where the gold is? Always nipping at everyone’s heels with curiosity? And you know nothing?” The anger behind the silent rage of his eyes pulled you to react in a way that you convinced yourself was a simple fight-or-flight response, even if you were aware it was more from desire.

“I don’t…” You began, your fingers trailing up the buttons of his shirt as a scoff left his lips, aware how this was another one of your games. The same ones you'd play in the exchange of glances over the dinner table while your family was none the wiser. 

“But aren’t you tired of looking for it? Fighting everyone for it-”

“It’s mine-it belongs to us…” Hiseyes flickered down to you, his lips parting in anticipation to consider the tease you’d brought before him. 

“Then just like me to you, Rafe..always so close…” You moved to the tips of your toes, this brazen confidence leading you to push beyond what you’d limited yourself of prior to, that curiosity to how his touch would feel now taunting you as his eyes continued their consideration. 

“Just out of reach…” You grinned, pushing at his chest, managing to get just beyond the door before he’d force you back inside, slamming it closed behind you. The taunting you’d begun would now threaten to be fatal as you watched him collect a knife from a table beside the door, pulling it in your direction. 

“You know where the gold is and you just want to keep it for yourself…” He moved impossibly close, the threat of the blade catching the light as your breathing suddenly shifted from that confidence to distorted exhilaration. 

“Right?” His eyes pulled into a roll, the most attractive he’d ever been now being witnessed by you.  But once your hands rose to try and create some distance between the two of you, he’d lifted the edge of the blade beneath your chin. 

“You think it’s funny to tease me? Think I won’t act on it, huh?” His head cocked insurveying your clothes, a simple summer dress having covered a figure he’d only ever noticed when clad in a bikini-his most lustful of thoughts originating from the poor excuse of fabric that tormented him the summers prior. 

“Think I’ll take pity on you because you’re Rose’s niece?” He scoffed. 

“Not even by blood..” The mention of the final word sent his lips to a terrifying grin, “Blood…” He now carried the very edge of the blade to your lips. 

“Such pretty skin…would look SO much prettier marked up-”

“Rafe-”

“Maybe a little R…right here?” He asked, applying just enough pressure for a gentle sting to develop on your chest, just above your left breast. 

“Maybe my full name on your thigh so you’ll always have me between those legs…” His eyes suddenly flashed from his intention now back to you, “Its what you want isn’t it? Want me to fuck you…yeah?” 

“R-rafe, please…I just-”

He clicked his tongue to silence you, drawing the blade back to your dress, this time, taking its edge along your faux buttons laid on the front. 

“You don’t want to tell me what you know…Then I’ll take the only other thing I want from you-” Suddenly you were turned to the table, bent over its surface as the blade was in a threat at your back, the thrill of his influence dampening you in such a way that made you question your sanity. But at this moment you didn’t care about anything but his touch-that depraved and even deprived touch. 

“You try anything and I’ll give you an entirely new reason to scream, sweetheart…” He continued to threaten, knife drawing a small line of blood from his pressure, before he’d use his other hand to dismantle his belt and pull his pants low enough to reveal himself behind you. Once exposed, he set his focus to your dress, fisting it high enough to bring your lace panties to view. 

“You’ve probably never had anything but your own fingers…” He commented in a scoff.

 “Probably always thinkin’ of me…Guess you should thank me then…” He offered a half laugh before tearing the panties loose with the use of one hand.

The sound of him spitting on his hand drove your nails into the table in front of you as you’d accepted your fate-a fate you had secretly thought of in your more intimate moments at night, when he was only separated from you by a few doors and about three meters of corridor. 

“Shit…” He breathed behind you. “Didn’t even HAVE to use my spit, you’re fucking soaked!” You whimpered, well aware of this. 

“Is it from me? Or the knife? Huh?” He asked, applying pressure once again as you continued to mewl as he pressed himself against you from behind, his size just as intimidating as his ego. 

“Doesn’t matter…either way, you’re getting fucked…”

“Rafe-” You turned to face him, not sure what it was you would say once you did meet his gaze, but unable to continue as he suddenly pushed his way inside of you. 

“See how easy I slid in? You know why?” He asked, grip moving from your dress to your hair.

“Because you’re a fucking slut…Just waiting for someone to fuck the brat right out of you…Guess that’s up to me.” He laughed in victory, pumping himself into you with cruel thrusts that were anything but compassionate. 

And yet, it had been this roughness that had you crying out his name in ecstasy. What you denied more to yourself than him, especially in this moment, was just how this bitter coldness sent your thighs pressing together in reserved lust. The agony of your want sending your usual grace into erratic spurts of recklessness as you’d craved exactly this. You wanted to be consumed by him. And now, you've gotten what you wanted. 

“Still don’t want to tell me where the gold is? Might even let you come if you’d tell me…God knows you fucking need to, you’re so goddamn tight-” He huffed, pushing his palms into your back to keep you flat as you writhed beneath him. The cold metal of the knife worn against your exposed skin kept upright by his renewed grip, his thrusts continuing in a frenzy. 

“Rafe, please!”

“Please what? You want me to stop?”

“N…no…” You confessed. 

“I knew it…you so fucking desperate for my cock, huh?”

“Yes…” You whimpered as he pulled you up by your hair, never ceasing his motions as he continued his thrusts. 

“Then take it!”

“Fuck!” You reacted, a sharp inhale caused by his merciless actions.

“Yeah, yeah yeah-” He clenched his teeth behind his words of approval, your body, the perfect vessel for his release; seemingly tighter and wetter each second. 

“You wanna make me come? Huh? You want me to fill up this tight little pussy with my cum?” You couldn't speak, his fullness making you mute as he tightened his grip, bringing amix of pain and pleasure throughout your nerves. 

“Tell me, bitch, come on-all you ever do is fucking talk…”

“Yes please!” You moaned as he scoffed, a sudden withdrawal making you gasp. 

Your hips were suddenly turned to him as you were able to eye him for the first time in all his glory. Shamelessly nude, casting his perfect anatomy before you, he allowed you just a moment of observation, before leading the knife back to your lips. 

“Knees. Now.” You obeyed, licking your lips to what you knew he wanted, before taking him in your hand. 

“You try anything but choke on me and I’ll mark you up so well that nobody else will ever fuck you again…Maybe I’ll do that anyway…keep you to myself, huh?” You nodded as he breathed in erratic approval. 

“Shit, you’re more fucked than I am…So show me just how much…How badly you want my cock…”

He was directed between your hollowed cheeks, taken in rough repetition to the back of your throat as he growled in approval, those sounds guttural and animalistic and every bit of an endorsement behind your own need of a growing release. You needed him to come, you needed to please him, to prove something to him-something you couldn’t understand, but something that drove you to lead him to that cusp of his orgasm as he called out your name in passion. 

“Swallow.” He demanded, slowing his motions to threaten the knife to the side of your throat as he used his second hand to tighten the grip in your hair and fuck your throat raw, the muscles tense and the gag now an echo behind his chuckles, while you allowed it all for the continuation of those decadent moansof ecstasy from his throat. 

“All of it.” He ordered, the final thrusts pulling his cum into ribbons of salty warmth down your throat, the blade suddenly sat at your bottom lip. 

“Open.” You acquiesced, a wicked smile spread across his face as he brought you to your feet, a deep French kiss surprising you while your arms fisted the fabric over his arms. 

“You EVER get in my way again…You’ll be fucked an entierly different way, sweetheart…” He released you, leaving you questioning if he was more lover or friend, the latter impossible with someone as selfish and wicked as Rafe. And yet, you needed him. You needed even more…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets

[outlustings]

good christ your writing is like a drug i have read through every dang post You Have Posted. in that eddie nsfw alphabet i peeped a little sneaky rimming action in there- could i request afab!reader rimming eddie with some degradation thrown in? i feel like he’d be the type to get nasty with it, blabbering about how filthy and intimate and lovely it is to have his darling bride stick their tongue up his hole. of course when you have the time! i am a paragon of patience. xx

(you know he's the kind of perfectly straight male specimen, trademarked and all, to turn into a nasty lil bitch when his ass is played with. you know it.

this ask is so good like hello? genius.

this kind of sucks but like. oh well.)

×

EDDIE GETTING RIMMED

First of all, Eddie will never initiate it by outright saying what he wants.

So, most of the time, it's you who has to do the dirty work, whispering into his ear how you'd love to eat him, how you crave it - oh, would he please, please let you do it?

The begging makes him insanely horny.

And it gives you a good chance to feel his fingers in your hair as he yanks your mouth close to yours, his face red from embarassment and arousal as he grits his teeth; "Oh really now? You'd like that, you filthy bitch, hm? Whore. You're a sinful, sinful whore..."

But he's relieved he doesn't have to initiate it. He doesn't have the balls to ask you.

He'll force you on your knees, with him leaning/sitting on one of the tables in the sewing room, his fingernails digging into your scalp as he bucks his hips against the softness of your cheek, dragging the tented fabric of his trousers against your skin.

It's a punishment, for being such a naughty little thing, for being such a lascivious, slutty wife - that's what he says as you open his fly with tremblibg fingers, trying to hide your grin as he grinds against your touch.

Grip onto those powerful thighs, try not to think of how incredibly dense and heavy they are as you imagine them on your shoulders, shuddering with pleasure.

Start sucking his already-hard cock, watch through your eyelashes as his jaw falls slack, his mouth curling into a weak grin as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, just for a while.

Let him fuck your mouth.

He'll snap his hips forward, nudging you towards his balls, and that's a wordless command, a cue, for you to start grabbing his ass, dragging his trousers down the curve of his muscular butt, revealing him to you as he braces against the desk.

Massage his asscheeks, knead them the way he always touches your ass as he fucks you from behind - make him feel special as you moan around his cock in your mouth.

Don't mention how his breath hitches, how his grunts turn into wanton moans. Don't dare mention how he's desperate for your tongue inside him, his hips bucking further up, his balls on your tongue as he pumps his shaft, all the while your hands are on his ass as he spreads his legs. Don't mention any of it. It would be improper.

He loves your moans. They drown out his own.

"That's it, aren't you such a dirty little slut? Ah, such a pretty mouth, such a filthy, dirty, nasty mouth... You're going to have to - mmh - keep this between us, darling, I still want to get married, despite this... This whorish side of yo-uff! Fuck!"

He's on his back, on the table, legs spread and trembling in the dusty air as you dive between his legs, your other hand tugging on his cock as you swirl your tongue around his asshole.

He'll grind against your face, your tongue slipping inside him and his balls twitching against your nose as you stroke his cock, he's painfully hard. Grazing your nails on his inner thigh, keep on lapping at him, his precum dribbling down your knuckles as you jerk him off, his hands in a war between grabbing your head and shoving you deeper and gripping the table.

Eddie is always loud, but this - guttural groans as you eat his ass, stroking his cock, soft laughter brewing in his chest as he twists your hair, pushing your tongue deeper - this is something else.

"Oh, fuck, that's it. Such a filthy little bride I've got... You're a disgusting thing, aren't you?"

Just nod, he loves it when your tongue moves inside him as you nod.

Those strong thighs on both sides of your head... He could kill you with them.

But he doesn't, because he's in love with you as you gasp for air, chin wet with your spit as you come up to give him an adoring look, before you lave your tongue against his balls, down his perineum, your head dipping back between his legs.

He loves it.

And when he's about to cum, his dirty talk gets feverish, needy.

"Such a filthy fucking whore... You like being - hah - being humiliated, serving me like this? Yes? Hmm, you're such a dirty slut, such a twisted little cunt, oh, I'm going to have to punish you - even - further."

With the word even, Eddie will push you further against his clenching ass, making you whine as he fucks your face. His large hand shoving your face against him as he grinds against you, bucking his hips into your hand as you stroke his throbbing cock.

"That's it - oh, darling, you - god - your mouth on me... Fuck, you're so filthy... I know your cunt is dripping right now. Fuck..."

He cums with his hand on your wrist, your name on his mouth as you stroke him through his orgasm, cum spraying on his heaving chest and in your hair as you keep on licking his clenching asshole. You moan against him, feel him gasp and shudder.

You can hear the creak of his boots as his toes curl inside.

He moans in ecstasy and slumps back on the table, his abdomen quivering as you raise your head, lick a stripe on his skin, tasting his sweat, his cum.

He'll pat your head clumsily, give you a smirk before wrenching himself off the table with a goofy lil' "oomph".

And off to the more than questionable showers of Mt. Massive you go, Eddie's footsteps a little heavy and wobbly, but his arm around you making you feel warm and fuzzy.

As a reward, he'll eat you out in the tub.

[noladyme]

I am your MASTERlist...

Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher, Netflix) 

The Frog Princess  She had no wish to be bound down to anyone, but Y/N none the less found herself being dragged across the continent; to marry King Foltest of Temeria. Instead of pomp and spectacle; she was accompanied by the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Their travels would bring both monsters, lust, love; and heartache. All sound tracked by an endearing buffoon of a bard, named Jaskier. (Geralt x reader. TW: angst, violence, smut, fluff, assault, heartache, Jaskier fillingless pie singing): 1 - 2 -  3 -  4 -  5 -  6 -  7 -  8 -  9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - Epilogue

---

Clark Kent (Man of Steel/Batman vs Superman)

xo - Red (Clark x reader one-shot. TW: explosions and fluffy fluff)

---

Jax Teller (Sons of Anarchy)

The Crown Princess of Charming Welcome to Charming - its name says it all. Cat needed a fresh start; and though she hadn’t planned on that being in the arms of the crown prince of this little town’s bikerclub - that was what happened. This Charming CA would either be the death of her - or a whole new life. (Jax x OC Cat. TW: angst, violence, smut, fluff, assault, drug use): 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16

---

Rick Flag (Suicide Squad)

Chess Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes. (Rick x reader. TW: angst, violence, smut, fluff, assault): 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 -  8 - 9 - 10 - 11 -  12 -  13 - 14

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James Delaney (Taboo)

The Wife It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. As rumors spread that Mr. James Delaney had returned to England – making a dramatic arrival at his father’s funeral – you might imagine mothers throughout London, rushing to present their marriable daughters to the man. They did not; and for three very good reasons. First; James Keziah Delaney was clearly damaged from his travels, and not a little dangerous. Secondly; it was the general opinion of the better society that Mr. Delaney had inherited his mother’s madness. Thirdly; Mr. Delaney was not single. In fact, he was very much married. (James x OC Rosalind. TW: angst, violence, blood, smut): 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 (work in progress)

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Raymond Smith (The Gentlemen)

As It Should Be (Ray x reader one shot. TW: Smutty smut, spanking, language, improper use of fancy utensils)

As You Should Be  (Ray x reader one shot. TW: Smutty smut, language, cunty heiresses)

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Angel Reyes (Mayans MC)

La Cuervo She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind... (Angel x OC Nina. TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst) 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - Epilogue

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Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds)

Annabel Leigh series (Spencer x OC Annabel):

Pretty Ugly Annabel Leigh joins the BAU on her first case. (TW: death, murder, child abduction, slow burn) 1 - 2 - 3

Pure Intentions  Emotions are brewing. But is it real, or is Annabel a replacement? (TW: death, murder, misogynistic dirtbags, kissing) 1 - 2 - 3

[simpcxty]

Y/n Kaminari

So… it’s been a minute. I just didn’t really know what to write, so I hope this is good.

Characters aged up to 21+

TW: angst? Abusive parents, mentions of improper quirk use, angst to fluff, cursing

Part 1

Part 2

How to explain your disappearance to your parents was beyond you.

Even as you walk up to the house steps, your brain is still scrambling for an excuse. You shouldn’t need one, but they’re so obsessive.

They need to know everywhere you went and everything you did.

Maybe that’s why you hid things as well as you did.

But this was spur of the moment. You never do things like that. Because you always knew it wouldn’t blow over well in the end.

Ya know for heroes, they’re actually pretty shitty parents.

As soon as you walk in the door you’re reminded of that.

“Where the hell were you?” You sighed and start walking up the stairs to your room.

“You can’t just disappear like that Y/n!!” Mom following being me quickly while dad yelled.

“You live under our roof therefore you follow our rules.” As if.

“Oh shut the fuck up. I’m eighteen. I’m getting my shit and leaving.”

“The hell you are! You’re telling us where you were last night young lady!” I knew they were delusional but this is bad.

“I already told you I was at a friends. Fucking Christ, I’ve had enough of this shit!” You open the window and throw your backpack out and climb up into it.

“Shut the hell up and get back inside.” You sighed and rubbed your temples.

“You aren’t getting it, are you? You don’t fucking control me anymore dumbass.” Their eyes widen and you can only laugh as tears stream down your face.

“You broke me into millions of irreparable pieces, and now you’re unhappy with how I managed to put myself back together. As if you’d ever approved of who I was in the first place!”

“Y/n. Calm down.” Of course they’re singing a different tune now.

Now they’re scared. They can’t handle you like this, and they’re also running the risk of neighbors coming out and seeing the scene.

“Calm down? You call yourself heroes, but what’s the difference between heroes and villains anymore? Is there really a difference when we all have the same blood on our hands? We just like to pick and choose who gets away with the blood.” Mom starts crying at that.

But everything Zeus said made sense.

In fact, you agree.

“You’re a monster Y/n-” Your dad is spewing venomous words at you, but you’ve already tuned him out.

“I think there’s another word you’re too scared to use. Because you can’t stand the idea of your own child being a villain. Can you? But I mean COME ON DAD! Lets be honest here. This is all your fault!”

“We had such high hopes for you Y/n-!”

“PUT A CORK IN IT! YOU DISGUST ME! I CAN’T STAND YOU! You were supposed to love us you fucking flameouts! NOT USE US TO MEET YOUR OWN FUCKING FAILED ACHIEVEMENTS! All they were to you was nuisances! Just admit it!”

“We have nothing to admit!” The urge to wrap your hands around their throats increased and you laughed.

“I hope you rot.” You jumped and grabbed your bag, booking it down the street as neighbors start to file out of their houses.

“I love you Y/n!” Denkis voice shouts out and you sob, only hoping he can hear you shout back a gut wrenching ‘I love you’ in response.

Denki cries as your parents hands rest on his shoulders.

“She’ll be back.” His fists clench as they squeeze his shoulders tighter and his stomach flips.

“She has no where to go.” He feels like puking but he can’t do this anymore. He can’t handle this anymore.

“You’re wrong.”

“What?” The spite and venom in his voice doesn’t scare me anymore.

“You’re wrong. She has the perfect place to go.” I stomp my feet down on theirs and run.

Hey I mean I have ¥30,000 on me. I can just get new necessities.

“Denki get back-!”

“What’s going on out here?”

“Yeah, why was your daughter hanging out the window like that? Why does it seem like she and your son are so eager to get away from you?”

“What did you mean by ‘we have nothing to admit’? Most people who say that have something to admit.”

—————

People stared as you ran down streets and ran into them, desperately pulling yourself away from the hell that was destroying you.

“Bastards. Fucking bastards.” You panted as you lean against the wall of a random alley.

What is it with me and alleys? I really gotta start avoiding these things.

“Y/n? Where have you been?!” I know that voice.

“Midoriya? Why are you here?”

“I saw you running down the street. Are you okay? Denki has been calling me non-stop.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Stuff like, he’s glad that you’re doing what you want to do. He’s glad you guys aren’t living for your parents anymore, or something like that.”

“He sure likes to talk huh?”

“Not much recently. He’s been pretty quiet. Some shit about people picking on him because his quirk is stupid. We’ve tried telling him that it’s bullshit and he’s super coo-“

“Can I tell you something about heroes Izuku?”

“Uh, sure..”

“They’re not always as good as they present themselves as. I’m sure you know that first hand with Shoto.” His eyes widen and he clenches his fists.

“Are you a bad hero Y/n?”

“No, but I know people that are. They can present themselves as heroes all they want, but they might as well be villains. Have a nice day Midoriya, I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone about this interaction.”

—————

“Where is she?!” Tomura’s throwing another bitch fit.

“I’m sure she’s fine Shig. She’s got Zeus!” This is the fifth time today.

“What if she got hurt?” He scratches his neck as tears fill up his eyes.

“You’re being ridiculous. She has a God inside of her!” Dabi coughs as he blows out the smoke from the joint he’s smoking.

The bell to the dispensary door rings and Tomura’s eyes whip over to see you. Hyperventilating and bent over catching your breath, but you.

You give in to the ache in your legs and sit on the floor of the familiar dispensary, and then you lay down.

“I’ll move. Just gimme a minute.” You’re holding your pointer finger up matter of factly, and Tomura can’t help but laugh and walk over to you.

“You’re adorable. You know that right?” Your eyes widen and you sit up quickly before holding your head.

“So are you.” You’re holding your head as you say it and he can’t help but laugh again as he picks you up carefully.

“Let’s go cuddle.” He holds you close and you tighten your grip.

“That sounds really nice..”

[cherrywoes]

i. i wish i could say i'm sorry.

tw (general): graphic descriptions of blood, gore, sexual content, violence, homicide, physical torture, psychological torture, rape, dubcon, drugs, overdosing, suicide, cannibalism (brief desc/mention), knife play, wax play, dacryphilia, sadism, masochism, bdsm, corsetry, human trafficking, drug trafficking, oral fixation, thigh kink, stocking fetish, food play (and more to be named.)

tw (this chapter): teeth pulling with handcuffs, blood/gore.

THERE WERE THIRTY cinder blocks that made up the sidewall of your cell. Plain, white, unadorned with much else except for photos embedded into the stone with crude pins made out of fork prongs, they had served as both your entertainment and torturers; you counted each individual block and seam of filling down to a microscopic level, eyes flicking over each twist and bend in the layout. You had memorized it, of course, after a time—it was instinct at this point for you to scan the walls, making sure a block hadn’t been magically added into your cell to throw off your count. Each little divot in the spaces between drew your gaze, following patterns that you could imagine were there for a reason, even if they were likely mere coincidence.

“Inmate Akamine.”

The collar of your prison uniform itched at your neck, the cheap white fabric scraping against the flesh under your chin. You reached up reflexively to scratch it, blunt nails digging harshly into the afflicted skin without thought, ignoring the cop standing at the door of your cell with the telltale clinking of cuffs echoing through the open slat at the top of the steel contraption. You could feel the man staring holes into you when you didn’t reply, still lazily scratching at your neck to the point where skin could have started peeling underneath your fingers and you wouldn’t have been the wiser.

“Inmate Akamine,” the cop repeated, knocking the cuffs against the door. “Stand up and face the back wall and put your hands behind your back.”

You knew this routine. You would face the back wall, like he wanted you to, and he would put the cuffs on just a little too tightly, enough for you to feel the pinch of your wrists in the metal and leave something of a bruise or open wound later. You would then be escorted down the white halls, the other inmates as quiet as the grave, watching through the slats as you passed by, head raised high and spine straight. When you reached a certain point in the halls, the cop would stop and push you into a small, cramped room, no more than ten cinder blocks high and with a shitty fluorescent lightbulb swinging from the ceiling by a bare wire. Unsecured to the ceiling, it would swing slowly, tauntingly, from the force of the air conditioning vent beside it, never resting, never coming to a standstill. The room would smell like old paper and mildew and dark coffee wafting in through the underside of the door, creeping from the faculty room just next door where, more often than not, someone was cooking either strawberry flavored pop tarts or blueberry muffins within—it never differentiated. Inside this ten cinder block high room there would be a man waiting for you, sitting in a rickety metal chair with faux leather backing and cheap cotton to provide support. The metal legs would scrape against the floor as he rose to greet you with a too wide smile and too white teeth, his weight slightly too much and tilting the unstable square table slightly forward, rocking it towards you in his haste. He would then crush the wire tap in the potted plant in the corner beneath his fingers, fling it into the fresh, damp soil, and wipe his hands with a satisfied harumph. With yet another smile, he would unlock your cuffs with a skeleton key and lay them on the table, hands splayed wide in a gesture of goodwill. When you nodded your acknowledgement and took a seat across from him, only then would he produce a single immaculately rolled cigar from his lapel, clip it, and pass it over to you. You would huff and press it between your lips and allow him to light it with a cheap plastic lighter, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke from your nose that overpowered the smell of mold and paper and coffee and blueberry muffins or strawberry poptarts. When you had taken a few deep inhales, the air around your head thick with smoke, he would smile and lay his phone in the center of the table, press call, and scuttle out the door before the line picked up and you opened your mouth to speak.

“You know the drill,” the cop added, as an afterthought.

You got to your feet with the groan and complaint of your knees to accompany you. Years of sleeping on a thin mattress full of springs and a lack of exercise had destroyed your body’s constitution. Your neck popped when you rolled it experimentally, easing the tension in your spine and shoulders, turning to face the wall and putting your hands behind your back, fingers rubbing against each other in patient habit. The cold of the floor seeped through the cheap slippers they had given you, turning your toes to ice, but you had stopped complaining after the first week.

The metal door slid open with a disturbing squeal. The cop stepped inside, clearing his throat, smelling of nicotine and the pop tarts you hated so much. The key ring at his side tinkled when he moved to put the cuffs around your hands, cinching them a little too tight, fingers lingering a little too long when he stepped back and gripped your elbow, forcing you around to the open door.

You stepped through the threshold, toes still impossibly cold as the cop escorted you down the hallway. There was no jeering from your fellow inmates, no screaming or shouting or yelling but an impenetrable silence that lasted as you passed easily by the room of mold and coffee and paper, the cop’s encouraging hand upon your back and slipping dangerously close to your backside—a new development—sitting just upon the dimples in your back, made more prominent from lack of good food and terrible mattresses. His hand did not stray any lower, but you could feel his gaze burning into you as he directed you to turn a corner and face the long, artificially lit hallway leading to the first step of your freedom.

“Oyabun,” a man greeted when you entered the door. Dressed in a fine three piece suit, your family lawyer fixed you with a pretty smile and lowered eyes. A black Japanese koi crawled up the side of his neck and behind his ear, fresh work, the ink still dark and prominent upon his skin. There was no cigar waiting in his lapel for you; there was no burner cell tucked away in his coat for your use; there was no cheap lighter sitting in his pocket, mingling with spare change and buds of marijuana that clung to the plastic. “It is good to see you are well.”

The door closed behind you with the careful snick of a lock.

“Shingiin,” you replied calmly, with a voice that wasn’t quite pleased. “Nao. I take it your presence here is a sign that things are going well?”

His answering smile was as dark as the thoughts swirling around in your head. “Of course, Mama. We’ve all missed you, you know; being cooped up in Tokyo without you wasn’t nearly as fun as when you were there.”

“Of course it isn’t,” you answered knowingly, the tiniest of grins working up your lips. The cuffs bit into your skin tauntingly. “But I’m sure you’re not here to talk memories with me, are you, Nao?”

He shook his head, that gorgeous dark hair shining in the artificial light fixture above him. Nao was a very pretty creature of your own making—one of your many joys in life, no less, carefully cultivated from the streets and raised into a proper businessman and lawyer. He was as loyal a dog as they came and he obeyed when you called, heeled when you ordered it, and listened only to you, as all things should be. He owed everything to you, [Name] Akamine, and would drop dead in a heartbeat if you so wished it.

“No,” he laughed, then. His dark eyes twinkled merrily when he opened his briefcase and slid a manila file over to you, opening it up to the first page. In large, bold black letters, ‘case dismissed’ caught your eye. “I’m just here to give you the good news. Your case has been dismissed on the grounds of improper conduct, false evidence, and reports of extortion.”

You raised an eyebrow playfully, a true smile coming to your lips.

“Congratulations, Oyabun.” Nao Akamine stood and bowed low at the waist, victory in his voice. “You win yet again.”

“Do I ever lose?” You replied, peering over the papers with a keen eye. “It was only a matter of time. Tell me, when is my release date?”

Nao’s smile was positively vicious when he replied,”As soon as tomorrow, Mama.”

With that, you closed your eyes with a relieved sigh.

Prison whites never looked good on you, anyway.

“Tomorrow,” you repeated slowly. Your wrists twisted in the cuffs thoughtfully, digging deep into the skin, and fixed the file with an interested stare. Your lips, chapped and bitten harshly enough to draw blood, pursed when the edge of a photo caught your eye. Tucked between the papers, you wouldn’t have noticed it at all had it not been jostled by Nao sliding it across the table for you to see. With a jerk of your chin, you nodded to the picture. “What’s that?”

He pulled the photo free from its confines. It was a standard polaroid, the square photo within in black and white and slightly blurry from movement. Whoever had taken it had an unsteady hand or had been in a hurry. You scrutinized it as well as you could without the use of your hands, eyes flicking over a feminine face: pretty, unusually pretty, with oil black hair, a defining mole in the bottom right corner of her chin, and slate gray eyes framed by dark lashes. The photo had only caught her face and part of her ear, her surroundings too blurred to make out, but you could pick out the reflection of kanji in the glare of her glasses.

“Shimizu Kiyoko,” Nao provided helpfully, placing the photo on the table with a sly smile. From the same file, he produced three more photos, each depicting three men who were unfamiliar to you. Each of them appeared civilian, mundane, in the same blurry haste that the woman’s had been taken in. “She’s the provider for a new gang grouping up in the underground. We discovered them by chance, really—she’s good, but she’s sloppy. So are the rest of them.”

You expected as much. “And the three men?”

“Sawamura Daichi.” The dark haired male slid a photo forward. It depicted a man with close cropped deep brown hair, doe brown eyes, and a severe expression upon his face. Sunglasses were perched on his nose, obscuring some of his face, but the tattoo underneath his ear served well enough as identification. “He’s the ringleader in all of this, of course. He’s Ukai’s… protege, so to speak.”

A low hum escaped your lips. “I see. Does he have Ukai’s contacts? His supply lines?”

“No.” Nao smiled, then, and produced a stack of enlarged photos. They were heavy and glossy, produced with expensive stock and not polaroids. They were clear and pristine, and you could recognize the blood upon the walls and the teeth scattered on the concrete—more than one set, if your eyes were proving you right. You even spotted a gold cap littered among the rest of the pearly white front teeth, as familiar to you as the person who had put it in their mouth; you could just see the smile, the sharp edge of that golden canine when his lips were just too expressive to cover it. There were body parts and organs strewn about, of course, taken in the middle of cleanup, but they were of less interest to you. “We got rid of them as the old man’s will was being handed over. It was quick, clean, and they’ll have little idea who did it. Unless you want them to, of course, Mama.”

“I want his teeth,” you said, after a moment of consideration. “They’ll look lovely on my mantle, don’t you think?”

And Nao sighed in both amusement and adoration, tucking the photos back into the floppy manila file. “They’ll be stunning, [Name]-sama.”

“What of the other two?” You interrupted, eyes turning to the photos he had yet to hide from you. He stilled momentarily under your gaze, finely pressed suit enhancing the sharp lines of his torso and shoulders. A closer look revealed reluctance, hesitation, but like a dog with a bone, you persisted, moving so close to him that you could smell the tobacco on his breath and the mint of his toothpaste. “Acquaintances of yours? Friends? Old family?” A minute twitch of his pretty mouth. “Old family, then. I thought I taught you better, Nao.”

“You did, [Name]-sama,” he reassured you. He didn’t dare look up and into your eyes, because all he would see there would be sharp and savage disappointment. “They are—”

“They?” You repeated softly. There was a soft click of the locks on your cuffs. You freed your abused wrists from the metal confines with a small sigh, rubbing the tender flesh into something of a numbing pain, and flicked the fork prong you’d dislodged from your wall into a garbage can. You kept the cuff looped around one hand, the other coming up to flick open the file and page through it until you found IDs matching the photos on the table. You tutted, drumming your fingers in staccato rhythm and scanned the names upon the paper. “Kageyama Tobio,” you flipped to another page,”and Hinata Shoyo. Classmates of yours?”

You had brought in Nao as one of your own—had given him the Akamine name with full trust that he would serve you well, not unlike your mentors had you, once upon a time. You felt that trust had been well founded up until this moment, and it was a sour pill to swallow that he still harbored sentiment for a problematic horde of rats. You thought you had clawed out every emotional bone in his body and alienated him from his own emotions, but it was clear he had been holding out on you for quite some time.

“...Yes.” Nao’s tone was not as confident or self assured as it had been when he had greeted you at the door with news of your impending release. Now it was a noose around his neck, closing slowly enough that he was aware of it, choking off his oxygen supply and cutting off the blood to his brain and putting so much pressure upon his neck that the vertebrae popped and cracked. “[Name]-sama.”

“I see.” You placed the photos in their proper places and closed the file with a whisper of paper and cardstock. It brought with it a breeze of clean, new paper, much better than the smell of molding files accompanying the odor of coffee and blueberry muffins. You flicked the cuff in your hand freely like a switchblade, the arm dancing back and forth with the flick of your fingers. “Kneel, Jun-san.”

He paled at the use of his birth name. “[Name]-sama—”

“I told you to kneel.” Your tone broached no argument. He fell to his knees with enough force that you took pleasure in the way his knees protested at the sudden movement. If he didn’t suffer a cracked patella, you would be sorely disappointed. You inhaled and exhaled leisurely, reaching down and taking his face in your hands as gently as a mother would do a downtrodden son. Nao was so pretty it almost hurt you to do this to him; but weakness was punished in your family, and he knew it well. “Suzuki Jun. It has been a long time since you first disappointed me. I hoped it would have been the last.”

He didn’t apologize. He knew it was pointless to apologize for something he wasn’t sorry for. His eyes were downcast, mouth pulled in a tight line.

With a hum of displeasure, you pushed his top lip up with your thumb and painstakingly scraped the nub of your fingernail over the pearly white enamel of his front tooth. He shivered beneath your grip and attempted to move away, but you held firm, fingers digging into his jaw so tightly that his skin went white, and he was already pale enough. You peeled his cheek open to peer at his back incisors, noting the distinct presence of two gold capped teeth studded with diamonds in the bottom right row.

“These are new,” you observed idly, tapping your fingers against them playfully. When he winced, you knew they were fresh and improperly done. You chided,”Didn’t I tell you never to go to underground doctors for your work? Silly boy.”

A more thorough examination of his teeth proved pointless: you had your prize.

“I’ll take these,” you said, after a moment or two of thought. As if to remind him, you thumped the two gold caps with sick pleasure, relishing in the way he flinched back and his eyes went wide. You might have taken pity on him if he had cried, but so far he was as rigid and stalwart as you had trained him to be. It was almost a waste. “They will be payment for the individual weaknesses you harbor.”

You swung the unoccupied cuff up into his eyesight, holding the connecting hinge just so. You tested it experimentally on your finger, pinching flesh between it and wondering at their sturdiness. When you were satisfied by the way the metal still bit into your flesh like an obstinate blunt tooth worrying away at steel, you pried Nao’s mouth open with little care, sliding your hand in all the way up to the third knuckle. He gagged around your hand, throat working overtime to force you out of his mouth, hand coming up to grip your wrist tightly. Your makeshift pliers clamped down over the first golden cap with enough force to dent the precious metal. Diamonds scattered out of their previous settings and beneath his writhing tongue.

“What poor work,” you mumbled to yourself, wondering if the diamonds would hurt on the way down through his intestines—unlikely, as they were barely even the size of a sliver of your fingernail. With a sickening twist, you watched the cap pull free from the gum; red flesh erupted in irritation at the removal. A quick pop, and a broken fragment of tooth came with it, root pulling behind it. Nao was already shaking and looked ready to drop at a moment’s notice, so you snipped the root promptly and watched his eyes roll into the back of his head. You took your next tooth in a similar fashion, but you were disappointed when a cavity made it crumble into sections small enough for it not to have mattered at all.

A frown upon your face, you tucked the teeth away into his lapel and patted it reassuringly. He was coming to, but he appeared delirious with pain and had broken into a cold sweat. “Don’t worry. I won’t replace you just yet; not when you have so much to prove to me. Keep those teeth for me, will you? I’ll put them on my desk, right beside my cup of red pens.”

Nao gave no indication he heard your words, nor did you care. Tucking your hands behind your back, you cuffed yourself once more, always a little too tightly like the cop wanted, and knocked just underneath the knob to indicate you were ready to go. If the cop had anything to say to you about Nao slumped on the floor with blood oozing from his mouth, he didn’t say it, and instead escorted you back to your cell.

There was no improper touching this time when he removed your cuffs and placed them back at his side, unaware you had just used them to pull the teeth of a grown man out of his skull. Your cell door shut behind you with a penultimate slam, casting you in a faint shadow.

In a fluid motion, you sat back down upon your bed to stare at the wall, counting the cinder blocks one by one, following the pattern of indentations and striations upon them, mouth pulled into a frighteningly evil smile.

masterlist. | ii. come with me, destroy the masses.