#tw: violent descriptions

[scaredpigeons]

More than some stress relief

Blade x Stelle NSFW 18+ MDNI

CW: Stelle asks Blade to spar with her, and unfortunately that results in some unresolved sexual frustration, because c’mon, he’s still a whole ass man. Luckily, mama Kafka steps in to lend a helping hand. (Not her literal hand, she just buys the toy lol) phone sex, mutual masturbation? The fleshlight blade uses is connected to Stelle through the (magical) necklace that was part of the set. (Magical) creampie.

WARNING: Blade is very violent in his descriptions of how he threatens to bone Stelle. If you’re uncomfortable with him saying things along the lines of: —until the carnage is unrecognizable, —until you’re nothing but hot pulp running through my fingers (just to paraphrase loool) please do not read this. Blade is a very broken man, I was really trying to play off his more violent tendencies with this one. Stelle is so fuckin down bad tho (relatable)

If you are 18+, comfortable with some gory descriptors, and willing to read, please continue! Enjoy.

——————————

🐺👾: you want to…. Spar with blade? Are you a masochist or something? Should I be concerned? 

🦝🗑️: shut up 

🦝🗑️: I have this crazy lance and I don’t really want to hurt anyone by practicing with it 

🦝🗑️: I know he’s got that healing thing going on 

🐺👾: 👀 …. 

🐺👾: I’m telling him you called it that 

🦝🗑️: DONT U DARE 

🦝🗑️: JUST PLEASE ASK THE MAN IF HE CAN SPAR WITH ME WITHOUT KILLING ME 

🦝🗑️: AND DON'T TELL HIM IT'S ONLY BECAUSE HES WEIRDLY INDESTRUCTIBLE 

🦝🗑️: I don’t wanna like, offend him or anything. Obvi I don’t want him to get hurt, but like, the off chance I slip up with this thing… he isn’t gonna get murked. You know? 

🐺👾: okay okay I get it, I’ll ask 

🦝🗑️: 😩🩶🩶💯🔥

🐺👾: he agreed. Here’s the coordinates. Have fun, don’t die. 

————

“Thank you for agreeing to this, I really appreciate it!” 

The man in front of Stelle says nothing, only stares as the winds coming off the water pick up loose strands of his hair, making the inky strands flow behind him. 

“You… remember me, right?” Stelle tentatively asks. 

Still nothing. 

“It’s okay if you don’t, we don’t even have to go through with this, I just thought you would be the best person for what I’m—“ 

“I remember you, Trailblazer. My mind is not so far eroded that I’d forget you so easily.” 

His voice is dark, just as raspy as she remembers it. She has to clench her teeth to suppress a shudder. If March could hear her thoughts, she’d blush and squeal, smacking her arm in scandal. If Dan Heng could hear her thoughts… he’d institutionalize her immediately. 

This man is dangerous. Incredibly dangerous. Stelle had to lie about where she was going just so no one would try to talk her out of it. 

Danger always pulled at something inside her though, that nasty, deranged thing inside her that craved violence and adrenaline. She figured it was a side effect of hosting a stellaron inside her body, but man— did this guy make her wish she could have something else inside her body too.

 *Wink wink*

Aeons. She’s such a fucking simp. If it wouldn’t make her look bat shit insane, she’d smack herself right now just to get her shit together. 

“Oh…” she said instead. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

An awkward pause lingered between them, and she found herself thinking that maybe she was standing a bit too close to him, despite there being at least two feet between them. 

“Are you… doing well? The last time I saw you, Kafka was… helping you feel better.” She said hesitantly. 

It could’ve been her imagination, but she swore that the furrow of his brow softened ever so slightly. 

“We’re not here to discuss such trivial matters.” His voice was harsh nonetheless. 

“Right, right.” Stelle said, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly. “So, how do we do this?” 

Blade summoned his sword, dragging his fingertips across the edge before spreading the tainted blood across the flat of it, causing the cracked blade to glow and radiate with unnatural power. 

“It is not your time or place to die here, so luckily for you, I will show restraint.” 

—————

Stelle could tell Blade was holding back, true to his word. 

Any flames she created were either quelled by his winds, or overfanned by his elemental power to the point that they grew too dangerous for the environment around them, or even Stelle herself. 

She found that with her control over the lance, she could call forth and dissipate her fires at will, so the damage to herself was minimal. 

She worried that if the flames grew too large, she’d lose control over them— but every time, she willed them away and they would flicker out, leaving charred shrubbery and stone in their wake. 

Didn’t mean they weren’t hot as shit though.  

The first time she’d used the lance, the freezing temperatures of Jarilo XI dulled just how hot her new weapon could become. 

But now, well she couldn’t tell if her sweat was from the flames or just how hard her opponent was pushing her. 

He was toying with her, clashing together brutally before jumping away and circling her like a hawk. 

He was resistant to her taunts, though keeping up with him left little room for her to pause long enough to think of something to say. 

He seemed completely at ease though, the violence in his eyes and the murderous grin doing nothing to help the degenerate part of her brain that was screaming and crying and throwing up at the opportunity to observe him like this up close, without Dan Heng around to make her feel guilty for admiring this man so much. 

Her arms grew heavy, and she’d not even made him sweat, let alone injure him in any way. 

She knew that the lack of true danger was causing her to remain at a reasonable power level, flash backs to the Herta space station incident making her shudder. 

She was really no match for him in this kind of situation. 

He lunged for her again, and this time, she was too tired to react properly. She parried his strike, but missed the signs of his next move, getting her feet swiped out from beneath her as he tackled her to the ground. His sword stabbed into the dirt just beside her head as he landed on top of her, effectively straddling her as he pinned her with his intense gaze. 

Her eyes flitted back and forth between his as her breath heaved in her chest, her heart racing as she struggled to right herself after being disoriented so badly. 

Something in his expression shifted, and instead of murderous amusement, his gaze seemed… hungry. 

He leaned closer, ever so slowly, and continued staring at Stelle so intently it made her do something so embarrassing she knew she would never live it down. 

She whimpered. 

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he was gone. 

He pulled away from her and disappeared within the same breath, leaving her lying there in the dirt as she caught her breath. 

She ran her hands over her face. “Well fuck.” 

—————

🐺👾: what did you do to him? 

🦝🗑️: ??????? 

🐺👾: last week. When the two of you sparred, did something happen? 

🦝🗑️: ….

🦝🗑️: why 

🐺👾: ever since he got back he’s been fucking pouting. 

🐺👾: well, I mean pouting in the way that blade does. It’s more of a scowl than anything else, but I’ve known him long enough to differentiate between his various types of frowns. 

🦝🗑️: … nothing happened. We fought. I lost, obviously. But no one was hurt or anything. 🙃 everything’s totally normal 

🐺👾 added Kafka🕷️💕 to the chat

🐺👾: Kafka, what’s she hiding? 

Kafka🕷️💕: some sexual tension, most likely. 

🦝🗑️: …. -_- 

🦝🗑️: mother, why hast thou forsaken me????

 Kafka🕷️💕: nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetie. 

Kafka🕷️💕: Bladie may be a tragic creation of the abundance, but his body was once human. It wouldn’t be a far stretch to say that some of the more… human tendencies of a man may still linger within him. 

🐺👾: F

🦝🗑️: F 

🐺👾: so you’re saying he’s pouting and kicking shit because he’s sexually frustrated? That’s fuckin nasty. 

🐺👾: @🦝🗑️ you need to fix this. I don’t wanna look at him sulk anymore 

🦝🗑️: me?!!?!? Tf am I supposed to do??? How is this my fault??? 

🐺👾: you fought him and now he’s horny. Fix it. 

🦝🗑️: … bruh 

Kafka🕷️💕: I don’t think the traditional way of solving this problem will be the best idea, silver wolf. 🤭

🐺👾: wym? 🤨

Kafka🕷️💕: I don’t think it’s safe right now for our little trailblazer and Bladie to get together on a more intimate level… he’s still a bit unstable mentally. 

🦝🗑️: you let me fight this man while hES UNSTABLE 

🐺👾: heh. L 

Kafka🕷️💕: fighting is what he knows. It’s what comes natural to him these days. Emotions? Not so much. 

🦝🗑️: I mean… I’m always down to help anyone whenever I can

🐺👾: *tucks hair behind ear* “i’M aLwAys DoWn tO HeLP aNyONe WHeNeVEr I cAn”

🦝🗑️: BRO FIGHT ME 

🐺👾: no thanks, I have better ways to waste my time 

🦝🗑️: ENGAGE ME IN A BATTLE OF FISTICUFFS RN 

🦝🗑️: IM ALWAYS DOWN TO HELP BUT USUALLY I GET NICE REWARDS TOO 

🐺👾: heh… you want a nice reward for this one too? 

🦝🗑️: I STTA ILL COME FIND UR LITTLE HOLOGRAM AND SMACK THE SHIT OUTTA YOU 

🐺👾: wtf does stta stand for you heathen 

Kafka🕷️💕: ooh! She’s used this one with me before. It’s “swear to the aeons.” Cute, right? 

🐺👾: 🙄 

🐺👾 has left the chat

Kafka🕷️💕: I think I have an idea on how you can help, if you’re open to it. 

🦝🗑️: …

🦝🗑️: what do I need to do? 

———

“Stelle sweetie!” Himeko knocked on her cabin door. “You have a package here.”

Stelle nearly slipped as her sock feet slid along the smooth floor of her room in her haste to reach the door. 

She tumbled along gracelessly and threw open her door, huffing as she took the package from Himeko. 

A box, about five hands wide and three hands deep, wrapped in plain brown paper, with a little card tapped on and slathered with all the necessary postage. 

“Thank you!” Stelle said hastily, reaching for her door. 

“Wait—“ Himeko put a hand to the door shaft, stepping forward a bit with worry in her eyes. 

Stelle cringed a bit, looking up at Himeko and trying to hide the shame she felt creeping up the back of her neck. 

“Listen,” Himeko started, eyeing the little card on the package with Stelles name written in pretty, looping letters. “I know you and that stellaron hunter have some strange connection that we aren’t sure about, and I know you’re unsure too, but I just want you to be careful, okay?” 

It took a solid two panicked seconds for Stelle to realize that Himeko was speaking about Kafka, and not the other stellaron hunter she’d so guilty formed a connection with recently. 

When the realization dawned on her, she tucked her package to the side and pulled Himeko into a tender side hug, snuggling into her chest a bit as she usually did. 

“Thank you for worrying about me, Himeko.” Stelle said, pulling away. “It means a lot to me, and I promise I’m being careful. I won’t do anything to jeopardize the safety of anyone on the express.” 

Himeko sighed, smiling as she pulled back too. “I know, I just worry about you. We’re all here to support you through this, you know that.” 

Stelle grinned. “I do, thank you.” 

The red haired woman nodded, smiling still as she said her goodbyes and left Stelle to her own devices. 

She’d never closed and locked her door so quickly before. 

Throwing the package on her bed, she hastily sat beside it and pulled the card from the packaging. 

She took a moment to trace her fingers over the pretty script on the card, before she tore open the envelope and read its contents. 

Stelle, 

Inside this box you’ll find the fun toy I told you about, along with a new shipping label to send it off to Bladie. 

I’m off on my own right now, far away from him, and I figured he’d handle it a lot better if it came from you, and not me. hehe~ 

Also, you’ll find a beautiful little necklace I had added to the set, that’s for you to wear. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time with it. 

Thinking fondly of you always, 

K 

Stelle blushed a little, Kafka was always saying the strangest things. She tucked the card away in her nightstand and gently pried open the package, not wanting to tear the postage stamps. 

Inside was indeed the… thing that she was told about, and she blushed furiously while looking at the nondescript white box, though the size and shape was very indicative of what was inside.

She pulled the new shipping label out, looking at the address inquisitively and realizing she had no idea where Blade even was, not recognizing the planet. 

She sat it aside and pulled out the other small box inside, opening it up and finding a rather beautiful blue choker necklace. The colour was reminiscent of her garter, and she smiled, happily pulling the gift from its box and wrapping it around her slender throat. 

It clicked nicely in the back, and fit perfectly. She smiled, patting it and thinking about how it was such a thoughtful gift, however strangely unrelated. Then again Kafka was a bit of an enigma regardless, so who knows what her thought process was when putting these two together. 

Stelle closed up the box, slapping the new shipping label over the old one and eyeing it as it sat in the middle of her bed. 

Fuck, I should probably write him a letter, some kind of explination so he doesn’t just throw it away without opening it. 

She scurried to her desk, pulling out a very cutesy animal themed stationary set that March had gifted her after their mission on Jarilo XI. 

The envelopes and cards were soft blue, covered in cute little bunnies and bears and what Stelle thinks are pink raccoons, surrounded with hearts and little stars. 

She laughed at the idea of Blade handling such delicate paper, and got to writing a quick note on her desk.

Hey, 

Don’t hate me, but SW was complaining about your… mood lately, and I thought this might help. I totally fuckin get it, trust me, I understand. Traveling with a group of people that’s more like family than anything else can really put a damper on your… personal time. So please take time for yourself, if not for me, then to at least make silver wolf stop complaining to me that you’re moody. 

I look forward to the day you’ll spar with me again. 

-Stelle 

It might’ve been doing a bit too much, but Stelle couldn’t help but feel like the note might help him to be more receptive to the gift. 

Being a bit delusional never stopped her before, so why should it now? 

She slid the card in the envelope and slapped it to the package, picking it up to go and have it delivered. Hopefully she could feel a bit more at peace once it was gone. 

—————

A quick and impatient knock sounded on his room door, pulling him from his deep meditation on the floor. 

“Hey asshole, you’ve got a package.” 

He and Silver Wolf were sent together to fulfill one of Elio’s scripts, and it was a brief period of lull in their respective duties. 

The inn they were staying at wasn’t lavish by any means, but they were discreet, and that’s really all they could hope for. 

Blade released a breath through his nose as he rose from the floor, walking over and opening up his room to find his fellow hunter standing impatiently, tapping her foot on the rough carpet of the hallway. 

Blade hated carpet in the hallways of inns. Always disgusting and ridiculously coloured. 

“Here.” Silver Wolf shoved the box in his hands, her grin was wide, spreading to her eyes which twinkled up at him with the mischief he tried so desperately to avoid. 

“Who could possibly know where we are right now.” He grumbled at her, though she was already turning to leave. 

“I have an inkling, and hopefully the stick falls out of your ass soon.” She laughed maniacally as she waltzed down the hall. “Enjoy!” 

Blade felt his brow scrunch up tight as he eyed the package. The blue envelope tapped into it was terrible to look at, the childish print making him want to throw it away immediately, but the unfamiliar lettering spelling his name across the paper made him pause. 

He brought the package to his bed, sitting down and thumbing open the envelope. 

The contents of the card made his stomach drop and then lurch into his throat. He was ready to run silver wolf through with his sword. 

Calm yourself. 

He took steady breaths, though he was angry, he was also rather curious about what exactly was in the box. 

With a carefulness he didn’t remember he had, he pried open the package to find a smaller white box without any words or indicators of what could be inside. 

He lifted the lid, only to drop it in shock at what lurked within. He knew what that was. He was older than most but he was still a man, and he knew exactly what had been sent to him— what was to help his “mood.” 

He sighed, pinching his temples. He didn’t know whether he wanted to thank silver wolf or strangle her. Either way, he’d be getting some kind of relief today. 

———————

Stelle was eating dinner when she felt the first phantom touch. 

Fingertips, as soft as a whisper, ghosting over her pubic mound and making her stomach dip. 

Her eyes darted around, but everyone else was still enjoying their meal, chatting quietly together with the melody of silverware accompanying their voices. 

She was sat beside Dan Heng tonight, but both of his hands were above the table. 

She leaned back to look at him below the waist, looking to see if he’d manifested his tail and was making a pass at her, or more likely, was absentmindedly flicking it about like he did whenever he took his secondary form. 

But no, he was tailless this evening, and now eyeing her a bit warily as her eyes darted around. 

“You okay?” He murmured, not wanting to bother the others. 

The touch ghosted along her outer labia now, making her drop her fork in shock. 

Everyone was looking at her now, and she felt something pulse around her throat, right where her new necklace rested. 

Her face heated, and she placed her utensils onto her half finished plate before scooting from behind the table. 

“I’m… not feeling the greatest. I think I’m gonna go to bed early, if you all don’t mind.” 

She stood quickly, standing there for a moment as the touches continued, soft and inquisitive. 

“Are you alright?” Welt asked, concerned. “Would you like me to bring you some tea, or medicine?” 

“No!” Stelle jumped, before she caught herself and smiled sheepishly. “I’m alright, just feeling a little off. Probably just need some good sleep. I’ll see you all in the morning?” 

They all nodded, watching her go with worried eyes, but letting her leave without more questioning, which she was so grateful for. 

As soon as she made it to her room, she felt the first touch swipe through her core, and she nearly keened. 

Her throat pulsed, the necklace weakly glowing in the dark of her room. 

Her body felt hot. She was embarrassed at the amount of wetness that was pooling in her underwear, but most importantly, she was so fucking confused at what was going on. 

Something wet and blunt prodded at her entrance, and her knees buckled as she locked her door. 

She nearly crawled to her bed as her choker pulsed and pulsed with a weak glow, and the blunt thing, which felt suspiciously like a pair of fingers, finally slipped inside her, curiously prodding around, as if feeling her out. 

She slapped a hand over her mouth as she squeezed around the phantom digits, their touch lingering at her g spot with ridiculous precision. The fingers withdrew and she breathed a sigh of relief, though it was short lived as something much, much larger prodded itself at her entrance. 

Her eyes widened, and she scrambled to pull Kafkas card from her bedside drawer. 

“you’ll find a beautiful little necklace I had added to the set, that’s for you to wear. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time with it. “

Stelle hadn’t realized what those words meant at the time, but as the blunt head of a ridiculously sized phallic object pushed at her hole, the meaning slapped her in the face like a rouge automaton. 

Her back arched off the bed as the phantom cock pushed into her, and she choked on a moan as it buried itself deep within her. She was so ridiculously wet she wanted to cry, and knowing who was on the other end of this feeling made her eyes roll back into her head. 

The thrusts started slow, but slowly worked their way up to something more intense, almost violent. Her insides churned, and she felt the telltale signs of an orgasm building up so quickly she might scream. 

No, no no no. She scrambled, reaching for the necklace, but when her fingers reached the latch, the thrusts changed angles, pounding directly into her g-spot and she cussed into the dark of her room. 

Her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave, crashing into her and seeping deep into her bones. It was the first actually satisfying orgasm she’d had in an incredibly long time. 

Her fingertips shook as they lingered on the necklace a moment, before she threw them back to her sheets, gripping them tightly as the thrusts continued. 

Fuck, this feels too good.

Through the post orgasm fog, she wondered if he knew. 

Did he know it was connected to her? 

She suddenly felt overcome with guilt. If he didn’t know, this felt a little like taking advantage of his struggles. If he did know, then she wanted to hear him say it out loud, that he knew exactly what he was doing to her. 

She wanted him to hear exactly what he was doing to her. 

With shaking hands and twitching thighs, she slapped around her bed for her phone, biting her lip through the pleasure to scroll through her contacts. 

It was nearly at the bottom, and the last time it was used was a hack of Silver Wolf’s, and Kafkas words, not his own. But she had to try regardless. 

She clicked the call button, bringing her phone to her ear as she bit back moans. 

Suddenly, the thrusting within her stopped, though the phantom cock remained buried within her. 

She gasped as the ringing came to a halt as the line picked up.

There was no answer, though she swore she could hear his breathing, just a bit heavier than usual. 

“Don’t… don’t stop.” She whispered. 

She thought she heard his breath catch in his throat. She definitely heard the swallow before he spoke. 

“What are you talking about.” His gravelly voice reverberated through the phone, and she felt the cock inside her move ever so slowly, in and out. 

She bit her lip. “I didn’t know at first, I swear.” Her thoughts were scrambled as the soft thrusts continued, and the knowledge that he was actively fucking himself with the toy while she spoke make her stomach jump in pleasure. 

“You didn’t know what?” He said, voice low and nearly at a whisper. 

“It’s… we’re… we’re connected.” 

The toy stopped, and she sucked in a breath of relief, hoping to gather her thoughts so she could properly explain herself. 

Suddenly a moan was ripped from her chest as his cock thrust into the toy with vigor, and his intense pace was picked back up tenfold. 

She tried to hide it, but the damage was done, and if he didn’t know before, he certainly did now as he listened to her whine and whimper through the phone. 

“I thought the inside felt far too realistic.” He growled. “You’re squeezing me so tight, little Nameless.” 

She gasped, his voice along with the stimulation was far too much, and another orgasm was quickly approaching. 

She tried to play it off like she wasn’t being fucked within an inch of her life though. 

“Yeah well, it’s… been a while since I’ve gotten any action, s-so forgive me for being a little tense.” She stammered. 

He switched his thrusts to hard and deep, so hard Stelle could nearly feel the sensation of his hips hitting hers, and she’s almost positive the fat of her lower half would be rippling in the recoil if he were actually here. 

“I knew as soon as I saw you that you were just a needy hole begging to be filled.” Blade said, voice deep and oh so condescending. 

Stelle fisted the sheets, her eyes nearly rolling into her skull as her needy moans slipped through clenched teeth. He was right, he was so right— but that didn’t mean she needed to concede so easily. 

“That’s bold talk…” she hissed, biting her lips until they felt raw. “…For someone who literally ran away from m-me as soon as his blood traveled south.”  

His dark laugh made her squeeze around him, and she knew he could feel it because the laugh trickled off into a deep groan that set her face on fire. She felt like her fingertips were alight with electricity, like her body was attempting to defy the artificial gravity on the express as she arched off her sheets. 

The pounding within her never faltered as he continued speaking his vile, filthy words at her. 

“You’re lucky I did, little Nameless.” She could almost imagine his murderous grin, the violence that vibrated through his voice was astounding. “If I had stayed I would have fucked you until not even your beloved crew would have been able to recognize the carnage I’d left behind.”

She couldn’t stop the noise that flew from her throat, a guttural keening that had her gripping her cellphone in embarrassment as he laughed once more. 

“Oh?” He teased, voice edged with gravel and venom. “You must be desperate to enjoy the idea of me fucking you until you’re nothing but hot pulp slipping through my fucking fingers.”

Oh she was so desperate, so fucked. If anyone else had said something so absolutely horrifying, she’d have run far, far away. 

“Does the rest of the express crew know how fucking depraved you are?” His thrusts seemed to pick up speed, which would’ve seemed nearly impossible, except she couldn’t exactly think at the moment, only sob as they slammed against that spot inside her over and over again until she felt herself slipping slowly. 

“Do they know that their precious little star wants to be fucked by a monster?” He snarled, and she cried out into the soft light of her room, thrashing around as her orgasm teased its way at her— but she was holding it back, why, why?

“Please,” she gasped. “Please, can I—“ oh, she thought distantly. Oh I’m so fucked up. 

Blade groaned, the slick sounds of him thrusting into the toy ringing in her ear. “So desperate, so polite. You really are something else.”

She keened, arching her back as the feeling licked at her further, so close to toppling over the edge.

“Go on then,” Blade whispered darkly. “Cum for me.” 

It crashed over her, more powerful than anything she could remember feeling. It pulsed through her in quick waves, so strong and violent as he just kept going. 

It started to dance into sickly sweet overstimulation as she heard his breath quicken, and she steadied her breath, wanting to savor this moment. 

“You know,” she breathed. “I’m a lot tougher than you think.”

His breath stuttered, his pace faltering ever so slightly. 

“I could take it,” she whispered. “I don’t think you’d hurt me in any way I didn’t want you to.” 

He faltered, and she heard him cuss under his breath through the phone.

“Yeah?” He whispered. “You’d take what I give you?”

She nodded at her ceiling, knowing he couldn’t see her, but her mind was too foggy with brutal pleasure to think straight. He was undoing her. 

“Every disgusting, violent, nasty thing you’d give me Blade,” she said, clutching the sheets as tears welled behind her eyes, praying he was almost finished but simultaneously never wanting it to end. “I’d take it so well for you, and I’d thank you for it.” 

“Fuck.” Blade moaned, deep and guttural, and his thrusting seized inside her. Much to her shock, she could feel the warmth of him filling her up, pump and after pump of him coating her insides. 

They both lay there, staring at their ceilings and breathing heavily over the phone, not speaking but not really wanting to anyways. 

Finally, once the breath returned to her lungs unlaboured, she felt him pull himself from the toy. 

She felt like she’d been hollowed out, like a crater had been formed where her insides should be, and without him there plugging her up—-her guts would fall out and she’d be left empty. 

He made a confused noise, and just as he did she felt the telltale squelch of cum slipping from her still twitching insides, and she groaned in frustration. 

“Well then,” he chuckled, softer now than before— almost a forbidden sound. “That makes cleaning up easier for me.” 

She smacked her hand over her face. “This is the weirdest toy ever invented, and I'm going to cry the next time I have to face Kafka.” 

“I figured this had something to do with her,” he said, shuffling noises heard from his end of the line. “She can never stay out of my business for too terribly long, unfortunately.” 

“Mine too it seems.” Stelle sighed. She smiled when he made a neutral sound of agreement. 

“You sound like you’re in a better mood.” She said, uncaring of the consequences.

“Well, before I realized what this really was, I was just hoping to release some inconvenient pent up energy.” He said, voice flat. “But I suppose doing it this way has added benefits. I’m no fool, I understand how the human brain works.”

“So this… helped you?” Stelle asked tentatively. 

He sighed. “I’d be lying if I said it was entirely useless.” 

Stelle smiled, stroking the choker around her throat, the delicate glow now completely faded. 

“I’ll keep my end of the connection on, it's simple enough. Just call me next time, okay? I don’t need to embarrass myself at dinner again.”

“I make no such promises.” She thought she heard the faintest of smiles in that last sentence before the line went dead.  

[vive-le-roi-au]

Prologue

(This post contains both images and text.)

(You’d been looping back to just the third floor for… you don’t know how many loops. Hundreds?)

(Maybe that was the problem. You didn’t do it all in one go. You just have to do it all, from start to finish, and kill the King.)

(From the top.)

(…Again.)

(You went back. Again.)

(Maybe you took too long. Just need to go faster.)

(…No. Still not enough.)

(It feels good though. Killing the one who killed you, thousands of times. It’s cathartic.)

(You’re even strong enough that you don’t need the Housemaid—MIRABELLE. HER NAME IS MIRABELLE, MIRABELLE, MIRABELLE!!!)

(…You don’t need Mirabelle’s help anymore.)

(…)

(You wouldn’t mind doing this a few more times.)

(…)

(Back to the stage, Siffrin.)

(…)

(…)

(…)

(It’s just another part of the loops now.)

(Go through the House. Kill the King. Talk to the Head Housemaiden. Something’s broken, failing, rotting. Loop back to Dormont.)

(The worst part?)

(Murdering the King has stopped bringing you joy.)

(It used to make you smile, seeing him crumble, blood spilling from his mouth, pooling on the ground.)

(Sometimes, you reduce his body to dust, cutting it up more and more and more until there’s nothing left. You’ve killed him slowly, draining him of his strength and bleeding him from a million places all over, watching the light slowly leave his eyes.)

(And you can’t even enjoy it anymore.)

(…)

(So why are you still here?)

(Whose fault is it that you’re trapped here?)

[unityrain24]

[mars-paws]

There has been something going on with me all day. Since first period I saw red to scratch something so I did it with pen on the back of my sketchbook. Not enough.

I used a whole paper and pencil. Not enough.

Second period I clawed at my books, leaving dents in them. Not enough.

I clawed at the lockers while in the hallway.

I left the room. I clawed at the walls. Not. Enough.

I need to fucking tear into something. I need claws and fangs

I need to attack something. I need to tear into it, feel my claws pierce the skin and blood seeping out I need to bite down on it and rip apart the flesh, feasting on its insides

Im so tired of this fucking body WHERE ARE MY CLAWS

[mooooooosicals]

me when I make Ches bot and Glam bot fight to the death and then one of them actually dies and it starts to give a very vivid description of death and I start to remember bad things vividly

[arthurtaylorlester]

asunder, a malevolent ficlet

crossposted on ao3

warnings: major character death, graphic depictions of torture, murder, just like. stabbing someone, across their whole body and like their bones from inside and stuff. you should be fine if you've listened to malevolent, i think.

inspired by this post

“Don’t you fucking dare die on me— stay with me, you fucking asshole—”

Everything was falling apart far too quickly. John knew they were doomed to suffer this fate, but he didn’t expect it to all come crashing down so quickly. His tears still stained Arthur’s face, who had fallen quiet, almost as if he were falling asleep to the melody of John’s incoherent babbling. 

“Arthur, no, wait please, don’t you fucking do this– you didn’t have to go through with it, you didn’t need to do this to yourself, to me–” John pleaded, “We can find some other way to get me a body, I never wanted this, just please listen.” 

Arthur giggles, reeling and raising a hand to wipe John's tears away. 

His face was stained red, redder than it had been previously from the blood rushing to his face. His hand had been clutching his ragged shirt, pressing desperately on the wound the King had opened again, attempting to stop the bleeding. 

Out of nowhere, blinding pain, again, and this time, John felt it too. 

His eyes went next. 

Multiple dagger-like fingers dug deep into their eye-sockets, reaching the roots of the eye and tugging, carelessly pulling to remove every single inch of the organ, depriving John of sight. 

“You fucking idiot, why did you agree to his deal, Arthur, why? Why would you do this to yourself, you don’t deserve this.”

“Shh, John, be quiet, ah, it’s ok, you’re gonna be fine, you can go back to Arkham with your new body, and– fuck," Arthur shushed him as though comforting a child being left at kindergarten for the first time. “You can live back at Arkham, no one will recognise you and you can go to the movies, ha, John, you can go to the movies whenever you want, just a few more moments.”

“Stop,” sobbed John, “stop talking, why are you doing this to me? why couldn’t you just stay?” 

Another stab, through the arm this time, John’s arm, pinning them to the top floor. 

The King laughed, but his words escaped the both of them. 

He was gasping now, worse than in pain, unable to keep any blood from flowing out and soaking his already stained shirt. 

Unable to wipe away John's tears. 

He was still talking, still begging Arthur to stop this madness, to tell the King he didn’t want this, even if he knew there was no stopping him now. 

He asked, not pleading, why? Why did you agree? why did you agree to kill yourself? Why are you doing this for me? I don't need a body, I never have, I need you.

“Shhh, shut up, John, just listen? listen, ok? I have to–“ he winced, “I have to tell you something, fuck, something important.”

He was struggling with every word now, the King piercing through his flesh faster and more often, and the blinding, searing, pain–

“What? what, Arthur, be quiet, stop talking, we can still get out of here, we can make it somewhere else, I can see an opening, a small covering–“

Arthur hushed John again, and for a second, the world stilled. 

The King was still tearing Arthur's body apart, breaking bones and tearing organs apart, twisting them, but keeping Arthur alive, to make him feel the pain of having a part of you ripped apart from his very being.

Arthur took a breath with what was left of his lungs. 

Breathing burned, or perhaps it always had. He couldn’t tell anymore. Had he always been blind, perhaps? Had John, had the madness of it all, always been there? Maybe it had been lurking, in the corners of his mind his eyes had never reached. Maybe it was all in his head, a dream,  and he would wake soon. 

No, Arthur thought, his (John’s) left arm having gotten free and reaching erratically to keep Arthur’s guts inside his (their) body, No, no, I’d miss him too much, he’s real, he’s real, he’s real, he’s real–

He could vaguely feel the King smashing his hands, his pianist's fingers, piercing through the thin flesh with impossibly sharp fangs. He felt the muscle of his legs loosely cling to his bones, his tibia being fractured, bent almost entirely bent the wrong way. 

At the same time, he felt multiple of his ribs crack, one by one. But not by any physical object, the King was using his mind to contort, snap, every single shard of Arthur’s body. 

He gathered John must have lost all vision, as his eye sockets felt empty, rendered useless cavities. 

He looked much like a rapidly decaying corpse, being feast for mycelium and bugs alike. But he felt like one too, he understood, slowly, why the King was doing all this. It wasn’t necessary, not in the slightest to mutilate, no mangle, someone’s body like this, to free them from a mere fragment of a god.

The King was doing this for wretched pleasure. 

But Arthur had agreed, with reckless bravery he’d agreed. Yes, consume me, if you must, to free John, he deserves this. 

Deserved what, to be exact? 

To witness his best friend be torn asunder by his former self, to weep and plead and beg for Arthur to do something, to stop it all, to pull through a last time. 

Arthur knew he was selfish, but he tried to chuckle, this was a bit much even for him. He couldn’t feel the pain anymore, perhaps the King was near to finished, bored now of playing with his food, it becomes a mess very quickly, after all. 

He was lying in a pool of his own blood, guts and gore, still pinned to the rock beneath him by John’s arm, but moving would’ve been unimaginable either way, he was shattered. 

He found himself far too numb to care. He felt like sand, threading loosely through the hands of what he dared to try and comprehend. He just let John know, let him know the truth, before he slipped away for good. 

“I love you. Now say it back.” 

“Please— stop talking, save it till we get you help—” 

“Say it back—”

“I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much, please don’t leave me—”

[the-arcade-doctor]

HJOLY CAJRP ITS DARK BUTS ITS A BANGER-

YEA THIS ONE SLAPS

[sam-collins]

[Quinn lets out a moan almost as if he enjoys the pain]

Only because now I've got two people to deliver my message. And if you don't give Clove to me, then I will kill your pretty little darlin

-Quinn

I don't know who the fuck Clove is, but if you touch what's mine again, I'll rip your fangs out of your mouth and feed you your own heart.

[quinnick]

I am tearing my hair out. I can’t... I can’t... No, I will not be mean on the internet

[strawberriesaresour]

Me after taking the most life threatening organ melting stomach churning bone dissolving stank ass explosive liquid shit known to all of mankind and human history:

[unityrain24]

me when the prescribed naproxen only takes away part of the pain rather than all of it

[ponderingmoonlight]

hi lovely ! you asked for kny requests and i've just finished my kny volume 22 re-read, so thats perfect timing 💙

I was wondering if you could write something with Yoriichi — (tw for potential child loss)

Maybe a hurt/comfort fic where his pregnant wife actually survives the demon attack while he's away (but maybe she gets quite badly injured and their unborn child doesn't make it, if you want to add a little extra angst to it. If not then that's totally fine, this man deserves a happy ending after all 🥺)

Of course, you're the writer — feel free to take any creative direction you'd like or ignore this request if you're not comfortable with it. Have a lovely day/night! <3

Again, I'm beyond sorry you were forced to wait for this so long! But here you go honey, let me know what you think <3

Yoriichi saving his pregnant wife and unborn child just in time

Pairing: Yoriichi x pregnant!wife!reader

Word Count: 4,2k

Synopsis: You never expected to face a demon ever again, especially not when you are about to deliver your child while your beloved husband Yoriichi is in search for a midwife. Will you and your child be alright? Will your husband make it back on time?

Warnings: injury, horror, child birth, tortue, description of death, extreme angst to fluff, last part is not proofread

Notes: Since the first Yoriichi fic I wrote, I'm so deeply in love with his character that I adore writing him so much! Since this fic took a while, I would totally appreciate your support through liking, commenting and reblogging this fic - thank's a lot babes <3

He can’t get enough from simply looking at you. You with your head in the clouds, you with your hand mindlessly roaming around the soft grass underneath, the other one caressing your heavy pregnant belly, you when you give him those surprised eyes as soon as you notice his presence.

“Oh, I wasn’t aware that you’re already here”, you say in a small panicky voice.

You didn’t expect your beloved husband back this soon. If you would have known that he’ll be here by know you would have cleaned the whole house, made him something to eat and-

“I can only imagine what is going on inside your head again.”

His soft but at the same time rough hand touches your cheek gently, the loving gleam in his fuchsia eyes making you blush in an instant. All the voices in your head stop right in their track when he’s around.

Yoriichi Tsugikuni. Your savior, your best friend. And most importantly, your husband and father of your future child.

“How are you feeling, love? Did you enjoy your afternoon?”, he questions, eyes wandering down your body to your swollen belly.

It was hard leaving you alone in a state like this, but he wasn’t able to resist the urgent call from last night. He might be nothing but another simple man holding a sword, but it is his responsibility to save those who are in need. What else is he able to give to this world?

His hand lands on your belly, feels the tiniest kick of his unborn child against the palm of his hand. At least he was able to create a smaller version of you. Is it a boy, a girl maybe?

“I hope our child is a reflection of you”, he finally mutters into the silence, a small but somehow sad smile forming itself on his lips.

You suddenly forget how to breathe, glossy eyes fixated on his captivating sight. Oh, oh much you hate the stinging fact that your husband thinks so negatively about himself. Why can’t he see all the heroic things he has done so far, how respected he is in the demon slayer corps? Why can’t he see that every inch of his body is flawless? Out of instinct, you let your head rest against his broad chest, breathe in his strong scent. If you could only stay like this here forever, his hand resting against your body while the sun tickles your skin-

A violent moan escapes your lips when a sharp pain runs through your stomach. A kick. A really rough kick, to be exact.

“Are you alright, love? Did something hurt you? Is it the baby?”, your husband asks feverishly, his usual neutral face garbled by worry lines on his forehead.

“Just a kick”, you press out, still fighting to regain your composure.

“I will search for a mid-wife, (y/n).”

His words make your eyes widen in an instant, a wave of fear crushing down on you. Is it really time already? You look down at your swollen belly, so big that you aren’t even able to sit down properly anymore. This has to be the ninth month of your pregnancy.

Your heart sinks. The ninth month. If the books you’ve read are accurate, it really is time.

“I can’t do this, Yoriichi.”

Thick panic runs through your veins, forces your heart almost out of your chest. You aren’t ready to deliver a child, let alone to be a mother. All the things you haven’t read yet, the things you’ve probably never heard of…What if you mess it up? Until you met Yoriichi, all you were able to do was trying to survive. Your mother never had the chance to tell you about those things, isn’t here anymore to stay by your side.

You are…on your own.

“Look at me, (y/n). I will go out and search for a mid-wife and I’ll be back at sunset, you hear me? Just stay inside the house and nothing will happen. I promise to return as early as possible.”

Fuchsia eyes that radiate through your soul immediately. An angelic voice that calms down your tingling nerves with only four sentences. Strong arms that lift you off the ground and lead you back into the warmth of your home.

But know, it’s not the wooden cabin that feels like home. Your eyes wander to the neutral expression he wears on his face, only betrayed by a worried glow in his orbs. It’s him, your beloved husband.

“Are you feeling alright, love?”

You take a deep breath in, a deep breath out. Eyes focused exclusively on him until your mind finally silences. It’s just you and him. You and your beloved husband, the man you would trust with your life without battling an eyelid, the man who made you the person you are today.

“I do”, you breathe out.

Your heartbeat tames down as well as the kicks of your unborn baby, Yoriichi’s hands keeping you from falling over.

“Promise me to lock the doors and wait in bed until I return, (y/n).”

A seriousness you only know from him when he is forced to leave at night veils his calm eyes.

“But…you will be back before the sun sinks, right?”

He gifts you a small smile, hand caressing your cheek so gently that you almost forget about the worry lines decorating his face. The truth is that the next midwife lives miles away. Even if he gets to the village as soon as possible, the sun will be about to set when he returns. Yoriichi can’t help but clench his other hand into a fist next to your stomach. The sheer thought of not making it in time, that you’ll be defenceless.

“Don’t worry, love. Rest your eyes and be assured that I’ll return as soon as possible.”

But he cannot allow himself to fail you, to leave you alone in those oh so merciless nights. He will return, no matter what it costs.

He presses a soft kiss against your forehead before grabbing his sword tightly.

This. This is his fate, his family. You are his whole life.

And he’ll do everything to protect you.

-later that evening-

You are exhausted. Over the last few hours, your body was haunted by waves of pain coming and going like the seasons. Again, you dig your nail into the wooden floor, your heavy breaths hanging in the thick air. You definitely don’t need a midwife to tell you it’s time. Yes, your baby is on its way.

And your husband didn’t return yet.

Your glossy eyes dart towards the window, witness how the sky outside turns bright red in the down-going sun. Is Yoriichi alright? You know how cruel life can be. Maybe he met a person who needed to be saved on his way, maybe the midwife is too old to rush to your side in time.

“Rest your eyes and be assured that I’ll return as soon as possible.”

Those words. Even though he’s not yet by your side, you are able to feel his powerful presence around you, how he calms down your aching heart.

“Everything will turn out alright”, you mutter to yourself while caressing your tummy.

“Everything will be alight…”

You allow your lids to rest, body relaxing for the first time since your husband left. You will get through this, you will deliver your wonderful child tonight. A tiny bundle of joy, an image of its father. Is it a boy, a girl? As long as your child is healthy, you couldn’t care less.

Carefully, you curl up on your futon, snuggle yourself into the blanket that still holds his scent. Maybe you’ll be able to catch a few hours of sleep until he finally comes back. Sleep sure does sound very appealing at the moment.

But just when your breath begins to steady, a violent scratch forces you to sit straight up. It came from outside, without a doubt. Is it an animal, is it…

Your throat gets tight immediately, glossy eyes staring at the closed window in sheer horror. The trees bend back and forth peacefully in what looks like a tender night. But that scratch, it sounded exactly like claws digging into hard wood, sent shivers down your spine immediately. You know that sound all too well, experienced what it means to get slaughtered by a demon before. Just before your whole family died violently, this was exactly what you’ve heard.

Out of instinct, you bury yourself into the corner of the room, the blanket that holds Yoriichi’s scent still pressed against your now shivering body tightly. Please, let it be nothing but a wild animal, let your husband come back home soon. Maybe this is nothing but a nightmare and you’ll wake up any given minute-

A violent pain runs through your body so suddenly that a shriek escapes your lips. Suddenly all air escapes your lungs, the way your belly cramps making you see start. No, you know exactly what this means, that this is not the right time to deliver a baby. Isn’t there anything you can do to stop this? You still need to wait for your husband, the midwife, for this gut-turning feeling to vanish. Your breath gets stuck in your throat, sharp and fast breaths hanging in the thick atmosphere.

But it doesn’t stop there. As if this wasn’t enough already, you can only stare at the door that gets opened painfully slow, claws digging into the wooden frame.

Without any doubt, this is a demon.

You press your sweaty palm against your mouth, force yourself to stop screaming, to stop breathing.

“I know you’re here, human. You smell like a…woman.”

It’s like all life is drained from the dead shell of your body, widened orbs staring at the frightful creature that makes its way into your home. Get up, fight, defend yourself like you saw Yoriichi do countless times, use the knowledge you gained from him.

But you don’t move an inch, don’t dare to look away. For a brief moment, time seems to stand still. Out of all the nights you’ve spent together with your husband, this is the first away from him, the first without his protection. Is all of this a dream, a hallucination to test your nerves?

The second the monster’s deadly red orbs meet yours, you get hit by reality. No, this isn’t a dream.

This will be your death.

“I knew you were here, lady. Let me help you up, okay?”

“N-no. Please d-don’t”, you whimper under your breath.

Your coward of a body doesn’t even fight back when he lifts you off the ground with ease, his nails digging into your soft flesh.

“Oh, you’re expecting a baby, don’t you? Well, does this count as a double kill, then?”

Your baby getting killed? If that thing ends your life, it means your unborn child will never experience dawn, will never get to see the face of its father, will never take in his scent. Your glossy eyes widen in sheer horror, tears now streaming down your face like waterfalls when a single frown form on your forehead.

You couldn’t care less about your own life. After all, you were lucky that Yoriichi saved you back then, didn’t even deserve to survive when your whole family had to die before you. But that oh so innocent child that might have the eyes of its father, the blessing of your life right after your husband. That innocent life cannot be taken.  

There is no way you will let this creature lay hands on it.

Your body reacts faster than your mind. With a surprisingly well-placed kick, you free yourself out of the monster’s casual grip. You need to get out of the house, out where you are able to find shelter, to run away. Your lungs feel like bursting any given minute, legs trembling underneath the weight of yourself and the unborn baby you still carry right under your heart. Even if it means you’ll die in vain, even if you won’t be able to see Yoriichi’s tender eyes ever again, you have to make sure your child is safe.

“I underestimated you, stupid woman. As it seems you didn’t give up on life yet”, the creature purrs what feels like right next to you.

A new nauseous wave of panic rises up your veins, makes you sprint even faster through the thick woods that surround your house. This has always been your favorite place to be. The calm trees waving back and forth in a soft breeze, your husband right by your side-

Your husband. Just the thought of never getting to see him again makes your heart ache. You didn’t even get the chance to thank him one last time, to let him know how much he truly means to you, that he’s way more than the man who saved your life back then.

He’s everything you ever wanted, everything you ever needed.

A sharp pain that radiates through your lower body sends you straight onto the ground immediately, figure cramping so violently that you can’t catch your breath. No, this is not the time labor, not when a demon is this close.

“Oh, there you are. Did you really think you can run away like that? You, a little human? You made me so man that I will kill you as painfully slow as possible.”

You try to lift your trembling figure off the ground, try to get back onto your feet, to sprint down the forest you know so well. But just when you’re about to get back onto your knees, a stinging pain in your right thigh paired with a contraction sends you straight back.

A violent scream escapes your lips.

Red. Everything around you is discoloured red. Is this your blood? Did this thing kill you already, are you going to die? Despite the way your guts start to turn when you follow the trail of blood, you can’t look away. And there it is indeed, a gaping hole in your leg, throbbing and bleeding.

All color that is left now drains from your face. With an injured leg, your chance to escape this demon’s claws is non-existent. Which means…

Your heart skips a beat, threatens to fail you any given second. What about your unborn child? A violent storm of anger and determination clouds your mind, makes all logical thoughts vanish into thin air.

“You can’t kill me”, you press out.

Since the day you first laid eyes on a demon, you accepted your own death. Your life is worthless anyway, compared to great warriors like your husband himself. But that oh so innocent child, that tiny life you were given to. You ball your hands into fists so tight your knuckles stand out white and lift your throbbing self off the ground. You cannot allow a demon to take the life of that unborn baby.

“I won’t allow you to touch me.”

You realize the stupidity of your words after they spill out of your mouth in rage. You, not allowing a demon to touch your puny figure? Another contraction makes your guts turn and vision almost go black.

As expected the frightful creature draws closer, its unpromising pair of razor-sharp teeth glittering in the dim moonlight. You never expected to see a demon this close again. Oh, how much you hoped you’d never find yourself in that situation again. But you have to get through this, have to make sure you will survive long enough for the mid wife to deliver your child to this world.

His child.

“I’m sorry Yoriichi. I never planned on leaving you alone like this”, you mumble to yourself, shaky lips tinted in salty tears.

“But this all I’m able to do.”

-Yoriichi’s POV-

Something seems off. Is it the way the trees bent back and forth in the soft breeze of the already set sun? Is it that distant smell that hangs in the air, the one that reminds him of fresh blood and lavender?

“We must make haste. I can sense that danger is ahead of us”, he speaks out with firm voice.

He promised you that he’ll be back before the sun goes down, that he will make it on time before demon are able to roam around freely. Are you feeling alright? Is the pain unbearable at this point? Do you still hold trust for him in your heart? His footsteps pick up instinctively, eyes set on the visibly stressed man behind him. In contrary to most people, Yoriichi doesn’t fear the night or the demons it brings. The only thing he fears at the moment is what you have to endure without your husband by your side.

With every he takes forward, the stinging smell of blood mixed with lavender becomes more urgent in his nose.

Lavender.

He always wondered how you did it. Even after washing, all your clothes kept that calming scent that surrounded you as if you were standing in a lavender bush. A smell so sweet that it caught his interest back then before he caught a glimpse of your fascinating orbs, a smell that always reminds him of home. Yoriichi’s home will always be where you are, where the sensation of lavender is the strongest.

Lavender, the stinging smell of blood that hangs in the air. His eyes widen when his mind starts to race. The smell, it radiates from the direction of your shared home, from the direction that usually fills him with excitement. Can it be…?

His heart starts racing uncontrollably while he dashes forward and draws his sword. Let it be nothing but coincidence, a cruel joke his thoughts play on him. But the stinging fragrance of lavender mixed with iron fills his heart with dread, makes his mind go numb. What if you got attacked by a demon, what if you are in great danger? All because he didn’t live up to his promise, because he didn’t make it on time. His eyes roam around the dark area, desperately searching for a sign.

And then his eyes find you.

Yoriichi’s heart stops.

There you lay, leaning against a nearby tree with a puddle of blood surrounding you, widened eyes starring straight into the face of a demon who hollers above you.

“No one is coming to save you, stupid girl.”

He doesn’t waste another second. With a swift motion of his sharp blade, Yoriichi beheads the demon on top of you while a toe-curling scream escapes your lips. Just one look at your sliced-up kimono reveals countless injuries, especially a gaping hole in your thigh. You hold onto your swollen belly for what looks like dear life, eyes still widened in nothing but shock.

“(y/n)”, he gently speaks out while letting himself fall down next to you.

You have to blink a few times. The demon, it was just about to dig its sharp teeth into your sensitive skin, to take the life of your unborn child in front of your eyes.

Maroon.

But those aren’t the deadly red orbs. No, those oh so gorgeous eyes look so familiar that your heart tames down in an instant. Could it really be, is it possible that it’s…him?

“Yoriichi.”

You breathe his name into the night like a prayer.

Maybe this is nothing but an illusion, a cruel trick your own brain plays on you.

“Words can’t express how sorry I am for arriving too late. I will never forgive myself for leaving you alone this long, for causing this to happen”, his oh so familiar voice blurts out.

Yoriichi’s usual so composed face twists in sheer agony, eyes filling with salty tears. All of this is his fault. He should have arrived sooner, he should have made hurry, he-

“We didn’t come this far to worry now. Please, help be delivering this child, let it all make sense”, you press out while grabbing his hand tightly.

It doesn’t matter that you’re severely injured, it doesn’t matter that your beloved husband took longer than expected to come back to you. All that matters now are you, him and your unborn child that waits to be delivered.

“Allow me to assist you.”

A foreign man suddenly speaks out with sweat dripping from his forehead in waterfalls. Just when another wave of nauseous pain hits you with full force, as if you got kicked into your stomach by a horse. You fail to breathe for a second, hands holding onto your husband for dear life.

“You are already close, it won’t be long now”, the man reassures you while gently opening your legs.

“You can do it, (y/n). After all the things you had to endure today, you will be able to get through this. With me by your side. I love you more than any words could ever say, darling.”

One more push.

One more wave of pain before your body goes numb, before you lose the ability to feel anything except for sweet nothingness.

Until a loud shriek finds its way to your ear.

A violent scream, almost frustrating. When you open your eyes again, you are greeted by a crying but alive bundle of joy, carefully wrapped into a white cloth and placed onto the arm of its father.

Those eyes.

“I prayed every night that he would have your eyes”, you whimper with tears running down your cheek uncontrollably.

You did it. You saved your beloved child who looks just like its father, you managed to somehow stay alive.

“She”, the midwife corrects you gently.

“She…”, you mumble with a small smile.

The last thing you see are the troubled maroon eyes of your husband before your world goes dark.

-the next day-

A foreign but still so familiar laughter fills the atmosphere around you with joy while you see nothing but black. When your stubborn lids finally open, you are greeted by the wooden ceiling you know so well. This is your home, without any doubt.

The home a demon invaded.

The home where you feared for your life while your husband rushed to the midwife in order to deliver your child.

Your child.

You get up way too quickly, glossy eyes darting around the room without a real aim. Is your baby okay? What happened after the delivery? All you can remember are those familiar maroon eyes that looked so much like the orbs of your beloved husband. Your husband…Where is Yoriichi?

“Don’t move too quickly, love. The doctor strictly forbids you to be in a haste”, his gentle voice speaks out next to you.

Just a few moments later, you get invited by the warmth of his arms swallowing you whole. Out of instinct, you let yourself fall against him, press your very own body into his despite the scorching pain that immediately takes over your whole self.

Right, you were attacked by a demon the night you gave birth. How did you manage to escape? Are your injuries critical.

But most important: How is your baby?

“Look what you have accomplished. A little wonder. Just like you, my love”, your husband murmurs, carefully lifting a little bundle off a blanket nearby.

Your heart nearly stops when you catch a glimpse of her. Those maroon eyes are the last thing you remember before everything goes black. With shaky hands, you start caressing her puffy cheek. This. This is what you fought for, what makes it all worth it in the end.

“She has your eyes”, you hush, tears now streaming down your face in waterfalls.

“And your hair”, Yoriichi replies with a soft smile towards you.

“(y/n), I promise I’ll do anything in my power to protect you and her from something like this. I promise I will stand by your side no matter what. And I hope that someday, you will be able to forgive me for not being there for you when you needed me the most.”

The second your husband’s voice cracks, you can’t hold onto yourself any longer. You wrap your arms around him and your daughter longingly, take in the scent who gave you strength that night.

“There is nothing to forgive and nothing to feel sorry about. You did your very best and that is all that matters. I love you, Yoriichi. And I have to thank you for saving both of us just in time.”

“You are my greatest treasure on earth”, he mumbles against your lips while giving you a passionate kiss.

What a plot twist, what a happy end after all. Yesterday you were sure your life is over, that you won’t live onto the next day. And now you’re lying in your house, holding your giggling daughter while pressing your heavy head against your husband’s broad chest.

“Well, I fear I will have to share this special place by now”, you comment while gazing at your perfect little daughter.

“This might be true, love.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @kayleegomez @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san

[endataraxia]

frustration and anger.

creepypasta/mh x reader in which they get frustrated or angry, or, in BEN's case, are frustrating themselves. word count: 2.1k cw: abuse, descriptions of anger, arguments/quarrelling.

EJ

EJ doesn’t often get angry.

in fact, it’s hard to even frustrate him. Even when faced with particularly difficult patients to suture up—ahem, Jeff— he shows no sign of being fazed.

well, perhaps that’s because he’s used to living with Jeff and his reckless, barbaric antics.

but when he does get frustrated, it’s like a gradual intensification.

you like to split his frustration into three phases.

phase 1: EJ starts to seem a little off. Quieter than usual, less responsive, and more distant. Almost as if he’s in his own world, deceptively peaceful.

phase 2: EJ starts to show actual signs of being frustrated. You notice that it is at this point he may start to snap lightly at others, but with you, he tries his best to keep it to a minimum.

phase 3 is the climax before the drop. On occasion, he may raise his voice slightly and openly express irritation. But he always drops, hard and fast.

“I am so sorry, Y/N, I am so sorry,” he whispers, rubbing circles gently on your back. Though he has to bend over quite a bit (he’s a gentle giant at a height of 6’6 or about 2 meters), you find it to be very soothing that his frame envelops the entirety of yours.

oh, but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of getting angry.

no, the anger you heard in his voice was undeniable as he roared at another member of the household to stay the fuck away from you.

you’d startled at the sheer sound of it, and quickly those trembles descended into violent shaking as you cried—his roar was simply not…human.

you flinched as he picked you up, just as gently as was the anger intense in that dreaded noise he made, a stark contrast in behavior, a jarring change in your body, mind and soul.

but other than that, you knew your darling EJ was back.

he plopped you onto his bed, surrounded by his sweet yet musky scent, nuzzling your neck and your face.

“I’m sorry”s were whispered countless times in your ear that night as you dozed off in the safety of his arms.

jeff

gotta put a trigger warning on this one. you know what to expect, but just in case you don’t, TW: Jeff is literally a murderer with abusive tendencies and anger issues.

at the start of your relationship, Jeff had been…well, to say the least, not the best partner.

he often got mad at you, whether it be keeping him waiting or spilling a cup of water.

yeah. spilling a cup of water.

but you understood why he was the way he was. he just couldn’t help it. but that didn’t mean you were going to stick around for it, no matter how much you loved him.

one day after a particularly huge argument, you found him crying in his room. his sniffles were unmistakable, but you knew you’d have to pretend you hadn’t heard from ten feet away.

turns out, angsty little Jeff here wasn’t completely unaware of himself.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he had sobbed as quietly as he could. “I know I’m a bad boyfriend, I know, I keep lashing out at you and I’m so sorry.”

your relationship could have very well ended that day if you hadn’t found Jeff crying on the floor.

but even though he’d hurt you so many times, you took him back into your arms.

and so you taught him to manage his anger, though it took you immense effort, energy and bravery.

he’d always help, though, by reminding you it was okay to yell back at him. you chided him lightly for it, saying that it’d just cause a back and forth.

“oh, right. my bad. sorry, doll,” he had said with a sheepish grin.

today, you are proud to boast that you trained your bloodhound boyfriend to be a tame dog. hell, he even does whatever you tell him to now, albeit sometimes reluctantly.

but he understands that if he loves you, he must make sacrifices upon sacrifices. you did that for him.

now it is his turn to sacrifice himself for you.

masky - tim

it’s not really uncommon that Tim gets angry.

but his anger is almost always the quiet kind.

he will “hmph” and huff lightly, a mild kind of anger you both can still joke about, though his face will redden at it.

you can’t help it though, the sass he gives you when he’s lightly frustrated is too good to let slip past.

oh, but when his anger gets loud—

it’s no longer a harmless little nip.

it’s been directed everywhere. everywhere, his teammates, the table, the card game he’s losing a bit too embarrassingly to Toby who’s being an unbearable little ass about it.

but never you.

okay, it was one time.

but Tim decided it was one time too many. (as he should)

he’d raised his voice at you, more so out of frustration rather than anger.

and you flinched.

and oh, how that little flinch broke his heart.

he shut up immediately, gathering you into his arms, whispering “oh, I’m so sorry, darling”, and “you’re okay, you’re okay”.

he never did it again. ever.

now, when you both get angry at each other, it always devolves into stupid little giggles and kicking.

hoodie - brian

Brian doesn’t really get angry, nor does he get frustrated.

normally, at least.

something shines in his eyes when he is defied, a shadow of a grin, a curl of the lip—

you spend a couple days investigating this, defying him little by little.

“Y/N, could you pass me the water?” “No.” and you’d say it with a cheeky smile on your face to match this strange expression on his.

it evolved into much greater things, “Y/N, come over here for a bit.” “Nope!”

“Y/N, help me up.” “Nope!”

your gleeful defiance doesn’t have a complete zero effect, either. with each silly little “nope”, the glint in his eyes grows brighter. and you know that the cup you’ve slowly been filling the past few days is about to overflow.

it’s one fateful day that you happily defy him once again, and—

oh. something’s grabbing at your jaw, and your lover’s face is so close to yours.

he smiles so gently at you, so purely. but his grip on your jaw says otherwise.

firm like iron, reprimanding, but not harmful or venomous. you know he isn’t going to hurt you, but oh, he isn’t letting you go either.

“Y/N,” he says calmly. “You’ve been a little more uncooperative than usual.”

the shiver it sends down your spine isn’t one of fear. excitement, rather.

he lets you go, but guides you to the bed. “Sit,” he commands.

so you do. what else are you to do when your lover commands you so well?

“Good girl.”

so you never say no to him again, not when it comes to harmless favors.

Brian does not get angry or frustrated…at least, not like the normal person does.

toby

Toby becomes a very bitter cynic when upset, spitting sarcasm wherever he goes.

his BPD only makes it worse. his relationship with Tim is already strained as it is, with the latter trying his best (as much as a man with anger issues can), and his relationship with Brian being almost entirely carried by the older man.

and his relationship with you, oh his sweet vogel, his darling dove— he doesn’t know what to think of it. some days he lets loose around you, tickling you and blowing raspberries against your cheeks, and others he’s withdrawn, curled up into a ball in his bed, and so you dive in with him, nuzzling him against his sheets long overdue for a change.

but if it’s neither of those, he’s lashing out. sometimes you can’t even look at him when he walks into the room bringing dark clouds over the atmosphere. that’s when you know you can’t look up at him.

and when you make the mistake of looking up, your smile meets a scowl.

“what are you looking at.” he’ll spit, and then storm off, as if he can’t stand your eyes on him.

and it’s true, your eyes gaze at him with such gentleness, he can’t bring himself to stare back sometimes. especially when he’s in a bad mood, because he breaks inside as he sees his own eyes burn the love in your eyes, reducing them to ashes of fear.

“vogel,” he’d whisper at night, lying next to you in your bed. “i’m sorry.”

he apologizes so much and so often you no longer make a big deal out of it, but this time, his soft whisper is laced with such heavy guilt, your arms move before your mind thinks, pulling him into a soft embrace.

oh, but this bad mood is nothing compared to his jealousy.

Jeff gets close to you? Jeff is suddenly on the ground, blood leaking from his head and EJ hurriedly dragging the former away, admonishing him about not messing with Toby’s precious human.

Tim comforts you about Toby’s outbursts? suddenly he’s against the wall, Toby growling and spitting in his face. if he can’t be there for you, then no one else gets to be there for you either. though, he knows this is selfish.

if he could help it, he’d let you go to whomever you wanted for comfort. but oh, his heart aches so.

and his jealousy is nothing compared to how angry he gets at himself, bashing the walls of the manor, crying out at night, because he can’t be there for you like a normal boyfriend.

he doesn’t know this, but you’re in a corner too, muffled sobs, tears, nose dripping and all.

so at night, you crawl back into bed before he notices you, and lie awake till he comes back.

as his breathing settles and his snoring begins, you hug him just a little bit tighter, your sweet vogel with broken wings.

ben

you have to admit, BEN is really, really freaky.

in the way he plays his games, the way he treats his archnemesis Jeff, in bed—oops.

but particularly, in the way he seems to have an endless tolerance for things that would usually upset someone.

he just. fucking giggles.

“aww, my sweet Y/N is so cute when she’s mad~”

context: he pissed you off and you’re currently in the middle of admonishing him with your whole heart and soul.

conversely, you’re the one who gets mad right back at him.

within the hour, he presents you with a tiktok with two cats that says: me when i’m venting and all my bf does is make jokes

he cackles to the ends of the earth and proceeds to make even more jokes

frankly, when the topic of frustration comes up with BEN’s name in the same sentence, you pretty much just think of him being the frustrating asshole in the relationship.

“BEN, give me my fucking phone back.”

he’s dangling it over your head, using the fact that he’s a floating apparition that can somehow interact with physical objects to his advantage.

once, you got so frustrated at him that you cried.

thankfully, he had the decency to pause, panic, and reflect on his actions.

“oh.” five seconds passed and your crying didn’t get better (what did he expect?). he repeated himself. “oh.”

“actually say something, you idiot!” you sobbed. and this is what snapped BEN into action. (you can’t believe you actually had to tell him to comfort you.)

“oh.” then he realized he’d just been saying “oh” like a broken record. “um.”

so he wraps you up in a blanket like a burrito, and holds you close to his chest.

“i’m sorry.”

“promise not to do it again?” you look up at him with your best puppy eyes.

“…i can’t promise.” you can tell he’s holding back a cheeky grin.

you whine and hit him lightly.

but you know very well that he loves you; this frustration merely comes with him as a package.

[saintrosalyn]

BIRD DOG - JAILBIRD PART TWO

Part One

Description: Simon’s determined to retrieve his jailbird.

Word count: 4.5k

TW: Parolee! Reader (guys we’ve graduated to parole), stalking, reader is kept as vague as possible, sexual favors in exchange for money, groping, Ghost is a creep (graduated from perv lmao), p in v, oral (m! receiving), p in v, mention of breeding kink, creampie, possessiveness, dub-con, somewhat edited.

Notes: It’s finally done! This took longer than I anticipated since I deviated from the OG plan and was a bit of a stinker to write but it's done. I hope everyone enjoys it! I’ve absolutely loved reading all the comments, asks, and reblogs. Such positive feedback is what led me to posting part two honestly. I'm currently working on the last part of JB so expect that soon💖. Feedback is always appreciated but never expected. Let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy :)

Also I've never done a tag list before so apologies if it didn't work or I missed anyone😭. Please let me know if the link to part one doesn't work either, this is the first time I'm using Tumblr on my laptop I usually use my phone.

You got used to the slight tremor in your hands, the parting kiss alcoholism left with you, but the violent shaking as you attempted to click the lock of the hotel door closed was difficult for even you to handle. You longed to feel that familiar burn of self-destruction but the only place that would have you end up is back in prison. Parole violation. It was too soon to resort to such dramatic measures, instead you quietly paced your small room, double checking that you clicked the deadbolt shut, closing the curtains as tight as they could go, anything to try and soothe your rising anxiety.

Talking yourself away from the edge again and again until you could finally sit down on the stiff mattress. Every time you managed to calm your heart you blinked and saw that room again. You saw those pictures again.

He-Simon.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to take deep, slow, breaths. 

After sleeping together, after discovering the skeleton in his closet, you swallowed the bile in your throat and kissed his jaw. He made dinner which you smiled over and forced into your mouth, every bite downed with a sip of water. The two of you went to bed, your eyes darting to that door, now left open enough you could see a glimpse of his homemade wallpaper. He kept an arm draped over you and fell asleep. 

Then you left.

Barefoot, not knowing where your shoes had been placed in your need to-

Jesus Christ you had slept with the man.

You barely made it to the bathroom, puking mostly water and yellowed acid up. It made your eyes water and nose run, blowing it in a piece of toilet paper, flushing it down. There was little comfort to be found in the distance you put between you and him. 

Going on foot wasn’t the brightest idea, but risking stealing Simon’s car and having him call the cops on you was foolish even for you. That and you didn’t want the man any angrier at you than you expected he was going to be. You only got so far before you found yourself on the wrong side of town. You had never been in the area before, but you knew the type. Women posted on every corner, bars on the windows, broken glass and sticky residue staining the sidewalks. It didn’t take you long to find the kind of man you needed. Trading a handjob for a bus fare, a blowjob for a new pair of shoes, and a pitiful two minutes of dry thrusting for a hotel room. 

Back to your ways. Different city, different time, same person. A bird incapable of changing its tune.

You needed a real job. A record stood in your way of that, but surely there had to be something, anything, that would pay enough for you to keep a roof over your head without having to sell more of yourself. 

You needed a job, but you needed space more. As much as you could get. Immigration was out, no one wanted to host a felon, and you were limited to a certain area before your parole officer got testy with you. Fuck. A big cage, that’s what you were trapped in. One you could never get free from.

Your family. Your past. Your cell. Your city. Your whole fucking life, one cage after another. Freedom a concept rather than a reality. Simon could use it against you. He knew of your limits, hell, you fucking told him yourself over a phone call before you got released. Outlined every fucking sentence of where you could and couldn’t go. He knew all of it.

Taking another deep breath you forced your body to lie on the bed, you needed to calm down. You needed to think clearly and come up with a plan. Simon was still asleep in bed, he didn’t know where you were, you were fine. 

You were fine.

A good night’s sleep. That’s what you needed. Not likely with how wound tight you were. But you had to try. Anything to escape the panic squeezing your lungs.

___

It took four hours of staring blankly at a dark ceiling, on the edge of a panic attack the entire time, before your body gave in and let you sleep. It was light, but it was enough of a break in your consciousness. The sun was what woke you, shining on your eyes and causing you to squint. Your anxiety a gentle heart palpitation rather than the full blown panic it was last night, exhaustion dulling its edge. 

The first thing you did was go business to business looking for a place that was hiring. Most required a resume, those you didn’t even give a second glance (as they no doubt did background checks). It took all of the day before you found a shitty pub that only asked if you were old enough to drink. With a nod of your head an apron was shoved into your hands, and you were bussing for your first shift. 

The owner, a balding man who smelled like cigarettes and wore a sweat-stained wife beater, paid you cash. Enough that you were able to buy another night to cover your hotel room and not much else. You walked back to your temporary home, eyes darting to every tall man who crossed the street. For once, you were grateful Simon was such a large man. It would make him easier to spot in a crowd, the orange of a tiger’s fur stark against a green jungle.

When you returned back to your room, it was easy to explain the movement of your things. Hotels had housekeepers. You wouldn’t have even noticed it if it weren’t for your paranoid state. It wasn’t until you went to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grease and grime of the pub, that you noticed a small picture sitting face-down on the bathroom counter. Flipping it over revealed you. You, asleep in your shitty hotel bed, close-up, taken from inside. 

You were barely able to flip the toilet lid up before you lost your stomach contents. Vile burning the back of your throat was nothing in comparison to the panic that burned through your veins.

He was inside your hotel room. He was inside your hotel room last night with you. 

You barely managed to stand, legs shaking, leaving the bathroom you noticed other signs of his arrival. Dirty tracks that were much too large. The blinds wide-open even though you were sure you closed them before you went to sleep. A single dog tag resting underneath your pillow. It’s owner’s name mocking you.

Riley.

___

He left you more presents. Vestiges of him ever present in your life. It didn’t matter where you went, how many hotels you hopped, how many jobs you changed, he always found you. Truthfully, the both of you knew this song and dance could only go on for so long. You were low on cash and stuck orbiting around the same small area. Days bled into weeks bled into months. Fear gave way to anger. Anger that he wouldn’t leave you alone. Anger that he wouldn’t let you delude yourself into thinking you had found a safe space that he could not intrude on.

On your nth hotel, you decided you were staying. Simon be damned. He obviously had no intentions of killing you just yet, content in tormentation. That and there were only so many jobs willing to pay under-the-table. You needed to save up enough cash to prove that you had a steady place to live, a recommendation from your parole officer. This flightiness made the law suspicious at best and nervous at worst. 

You found your way back to the pub, who upgraded you to server. On the wrong side of town its patrons weren’t the best. But they tipped decent enough and if they got too handsy the owner always stepped in. A few pinches on the ass were worth a steady income. You’ve given a lot more of yourself for less.

Perhaps, that was your mistake, you got too comfortable with a wild animal. So sure that your exotic pet would not bite.

The first time you saw him, you thought it was a mistake. Despite his size Simon was able to go about your life as he pleased without you catching even a glimpse of him. Hell, you knew he could stalk you without you being aware of him at all (your prison stint was proof enough of that), he just chose not to. You shouldn’t have been surprised that his behavior would escalate. 

You were standing, dead on your feet after your shift working on three hours of sleep, waiting for the bus. And there he was. Across the street, large frame leaning against a wall, arms crossed. When you did a double glance, you were able to make out the tell-tale scars across his face. Then the bus came. It was a coin toss, boarding the bus. A part of you wanted to flee, figuring he could easily cross the street and board the same bus as you, but the alternative was worse. Let it pass and walk home alone. In the dark. With a predator at your heels. 

No.

Better to have people around you. Safety in numbers and all that.

The next day, he did it again. And again. And again. Each time coming closer and closer. Until one day you saw his large frame coming up the steps of the bus. You practically vibrated from anxiety in your seat, unshed tears blurring your vision as you stared straight ahead. The black blur of his jacket, the soft squeak of his boots as he moved closer and closer, until he took the seat right behind you.

You didn’t move. Frozen. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Fright.

Fright.

Fright. 

Until the bus moved and the decision was made for you. Only you couldn’t convince your muscles to move, stuck staring dead ahead. Willing the bus driving to glance in the mirror back at you. Willing the other passengers to notice how close the man behind you was sitting (close enough to feel his breath against your ear, close enough to smell the tobacco on his breath). But this was the last bus and everyone was too tired to notice. A herd of diurnal prey vs a nocturnal predator. It was clear who had the advantage.

You missed your stop. And the one after that. It wasn’t until you felt a violent shake on your shoulder that you jolted out of your trance, eyes darting up… to the bus driver. 

“Las’ stop miss. Gotta’ get off.” His voice firm. How long had he been calling out to you?

Giving a jerky nod you looked behind you, but Simon was gone.

___

It didn't stop there. Not that you expected it would, but fucking forgive you for having a little hope in life. Simon took to following a few steps behind you wherever you went. Sitting behind you on the bus. Sitting in the back of the pub, nursing beer after beer. Sometimes he had another man with him. But mostly he was alone. His eyes never left you. For weeks it went on. For weeks you felt his constant presence. 

The presents never stopped either. Photos of you, gifts for you (lingerie and cigarettes, the same shade of nail polish he gave you while you were in prison), things of his. He never relented. You never shook that feeling of being watched. You never could get rid of that pit of anxiety in your stomach. Exhaustion was starting to settle heavy in your bones. Give up. Give in. Give yourself to him. 

The temptation was intense. You just wanted to be done with it all. Let him do what he wanted with you. At this point, even death would be better than another day of constant anxiety. (Pursuit predator exhausting his prey, closing in). 

And then he was gone.

His absence was glaringly obvious on the first day, enough so that you thought for sure that you were going to die soon. Simon had reached some kind of breaking point. But you didn’t. And you didn’t see Simon.

There were no presents left for you. No signs of his stalking. No evidence that he was ever in your life at all. It was such a sudden and stark change that if it weren’t for his dog tag you would have thought you dreamed the whole thing. But he was gone. 

A day passed.

Then another.

And another.

The knot in your stomach slowly unworked itself. The tension ever present in your shoulders finally loosened. Weeks passed by. Then months. A part of you still worried. In prison there were times where Simon would go silent for months, but he always came back. And he always made sure to make up for lost times. More gifts, more phone calls, longer visits. It seemed that your anxiety was slowly chipped away, yet it was also slowly building itself back up again. 

But Simon stayed gone. More importantly, a date had been set for you to become a truly free woman. No parole. No restrictions. A chance to leave the country. A chance to truly be free.

A chance to slip away from Simon.

___

When a police officer knocked on your door, you had to fight back the panic.

You haven’t done anything wrong. 

It wasn’t until you were sitting across from your lawyer did you truly began to realize the situation you were in. His words sounded so far away, so garbled. As if you were trapped underwater, in a fishbowl, letting the world happen around you as you tapped at the glass.

“...Do you understand the situation you’re in?...Enough drugs to get an intent to distribute…a passport…tickets to another country…”

How did you get here?

“Are you listening to me?”

You snapped back to reality, the familiar cold cuffs biting into your wrists.

“Do they have to keep these on me?”

Your lawyer let out a sigh. “Don’t worry about the damn cuffs right now.”

Easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one wearing the damn cuffs.

“They’re distracting.” 

He ignored you. “They have you on video buying a plane ticket out of the country.”

You nodded. He didn’t mention the fact that your parole would’ve been up by then. Nothing wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong.

“They found enough cocaine in your hotel room to get intent to sell. With the plane ticket, and your erratic behavior after you got out of prison, things don’t look good for you.”

“It’s not mine I-” Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat, talking so quietly, trying to hold back tears. “I swear.”

Your lawyer didn’t look convinced. “That defense won’t hold up in court.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, I was able to cut a deal for you. It’s better than prison. They’ll tag you-”

Dog tags flickered in your mind. “Huh?”

“House arrest.”

“Oh.”

“You won’t be able to use a hotel, you’ll have to go back to the original residence you reported when you got out of prison.”

"What?” Alarm bells rang through your sluggish thoughts.

Your lawyer sick of you interrupting him, bulldozed on. “Listen to me. I don’t know why they’re offering this to you, but you won’t get a second chance at this. Confess your crime. They’ll confine you to your house for three years and serve parole in tandem. You’ll only serve a year of parole once you’re out.”

Three years. Three years stuck at Simon’s house. Three years with Simon.

“What happens if I don’t take it.”

“You’ll go back to prison. Given you’ve already been, they'll try for maximum. You could be looking at twenty years, ten if you’re lucky. Life on parole.”

Walk into the tiger’s den or let him continue the chase.

How did you get here?

___

They put the ankle monitor on at Simon’s house, now your house you suppose. A part of you had wanted to tell them to take you back to prison instead. But you knew the reality of your situation. Simon would just do the same thing he did before. Get videos of you, pictures of you, he could still watch you in your cell. He would still visit you. And that’s just what he would do while you were in prison, what would happen when you were released again? You were never going to be able to escape him. At least this way you would be more comfortable.

A gilded cage.

Simon talked to the officers, but he seemed to make even them nervous, as they all but ran out of the house. You watched as they shut the door behind them, alone in a room with Simon for the first time in a long time.

How did you get here?

Simon put his hand on the back of your neck, before gliding it upwards jerking your head back. Your eyes met his, and he was smiling.

“Hello, bird.”

“Simon.”

He shuddered when you called his name.

“Missed you.”

“Don’t know how, you never left me.”

He grinned, boyish and proud of himself, “Never.”

Simon kissed you then, feeling far more familiar than he should’ve for a man you’ve only had sex with once. You turned, hoping to relieve some of the pressure in your neck, Simon’s hand stayed instead wrapping around your throat. He gave an experimental squeeze, making you whimper, before he released you.

“Gonna’ be good’ fer me?” He rasped.

You thought about it for a moment, and he let you, time frozen mid-air. But you had been running for so long. And you were so tired. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Surrender.

You had to stand on the tips of your toes to press your lips against his, white flag given. That’s all it took for the dam to break. Simon let out a growl and slammed you into the nearest wall, cradling your head so it didn’t bang against the wall with the force. His body caged you in as he deepened the kiss. You had forgotten just how intense it was to be so close to Simon.

He filled your senses. You breathed him in, you tasted him, you heard his soft grunts against your lips, felt the rough edge of his jeans as he ground himself against you, watched as his blonde eyelashes fluttered open until he was staring at you. Always watching. Even in these moments. 

Simon’s hand gripped your ass, grinding you harder against him, moaning from the friction.

“You owe’ me somethin’ birdie. Made your fiance wait so long. Such a fuckin’ tease.” He growled in your ear before fisting your shirt in two hands, ripping it with ease. Hands squeezing your bare tits so tight you expected to find bruises tomorrow.

Confusion knitted your brows together before he shoved you to your knees and you came face to face with his crotch.

How did you get here?

Your hands shook as you undid the button on his jeans, the zipper loud in between Simon and your panting. He helped you pull his jeans down his thighs, his cock dropping out, hard and angry.

Fuck.

You had forgotten just how big the man was down below. Time distorting the memory enough you had convinced yourself that he was average and you were just desperate that night. You were wrong of course. The man was hung as a fucking horse.

It had been awhile since you gave a blowjob. The steady pay the pub provided, the tips you made, pawning a few of Simon’s gifts and you had earned enough to not necessitate them. Not that it would help in this situation. Simon was big enough that all your previous tricks were rather useless. You weren’t even sure if you could open your mouth wide enough to take him, let alone take him down your throat. Your poor poor throat.

Tentatively, you leaned forward and gave the head a gentle kiss, glancing up and meeting Simon’s eyes. Your gaze left his, feeling suddenly shy despite the situation you were in. Pre dribbled and you used the chance to rub it along his sensitive head with your thumb. You gathered as much spit on your tongue licking the underside of his cock, pushing it all the way up until it pressed against his stomach. He groaned, hand resting on the back of your head. 

With his dick out of the way, you used your other hand to caress his balls before pressing soft kisses to them. You replaced your hand with your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue, using your hands to work his cock while you gave your attention elsewhere. His balls were much easier to fit in your mouth, but you could only delay the inevitable so long.

You pulled away fully, his cock falling under the weight of itself. The easy part done, now it was time for the hard part. Your gag reflex was not going to be happy. Bracing your hands against his thick thighs, feeling his muscles flex underneath your fingertips, you pressed your lips against the tip of his cock again, parting the seam of your mouth and letting him slowly slip in. Your tongue lying flat as he invaded your mouth.

Inch by overwhelming inch.

Before you had thought he was overwhelming, it was nowhere near as overwhelming as having his dick in your mouth. Gone were the lingering scents of tobacco and liquor. The outside world stripped away until just the man was left. Until only Simon’s musk filled your nose, wrinkling it as you took him a little deeper. Your jaw already ached from how wide you were stretching it.

Tired of your pace, Simon began to use your head as leverage as he pushed you further down, nails pressing crescents into his skin as you forced your body to relax. You quickly moved your hands back to the base of his length, stopping him from pushing you any further. Twisting your wrists to placate him enough to let you keep them there. Sucking to increase the pressure.

Simon moaned, hands going from gripping your head, to resting. Letting you work.

You took a deep breath through your nose as you began to work him in earnest. Swirling your tongue over the head of his cocked you began to bob faster and faster, unable to stop the lewd gurgling noises as the back of him hit your throat. His hands were at your head again, pushing himself further down your throat and back again. Setting his pace.

This wasn’t a blowjob he was fucking your throat. Using you. His dick twitched in his mouth before he pulled out, as you took in huge gulps of breath. Body hunching in on itself. You felt vulnerable like this. Kneeling in front of him, the top half of you completely nude.

You didn’t get much time to collect yourself before you were pulled to your feet, turned so that your back was pressed against his front, hands bracing against the wall. 

Simon kissed your neck, hooking his hands on your pants and jerking them down. They caught on your ankle monitor but he just tore them off, seams ripping. Your underwear was torn with a satisfying rip, before you felt the tip of his bare cock pressing against your hole. He thrusted against your slit, gathering your own slick before he reached a hand down, dragging his dick back before it caught on your hole.

You couldn’t help but whine at the stretch of him, un-prepped. He didn’t stop until his hips met yours, large hands bruising. He paused, leaning his weight onto you, sighing. As if being buried to the hilt in your cunt was the reprieve he had been looking for all his life.

“Missed her’ too. Did she mis’ me?” His voice was hoarse against your ear.

“Huh?”

He removed one hand from your hip bringing it to your clit, brushing one large knuckle against it, causing your knees to buckle. Simon chuckled, easily holding your weight against him.

“Don’ worry, won’ ever leave you for this long again Birdie.”

Simon licked your cheek causing you to try and jerk away from him, before the rough pad of his finger began to circle your clit, your pussy clenching around him almost painfully, grinding his hips into yours as if trying to fuck you deeper somehow. He pulled out before snapping into you. Again and again, hand never leaving your clit.

“Simon! Simon please! Don’t stop!” You couldn’t help but cry, bucking back against him as you felt an orgasm build quickly, faster than one had ever built before.

He growled into your ear. “Ain’t ever gonna run again Bird.”

You nodded your head, trying to do everything in your power to appease him to keep doing what he was doing. To keep thrusting. To keep his hand on your clit. To lick you again. Anything. Everything. You wanted him to consume you wholly.

“Ain’t gonna run no’ more. Ain’t gonna leave the house till everyon’ knows you’re mine.”

His hand left your clit, causing you to whine in protest, cradling your stomach. 

“Say it. Tell the whole fuckin’ world who you belong too.”

“You Simon! YoU! Simon! Simon please…plea-” You were babbling, until finally his hand went back to your clit.

“Don’t forget it.”

You came, cunt desperately clutching his cock, squealing as Simon didn’t even slow his thrusts. He pushed you through one orgasm onto the edge of overstimulation as he finally came with a grunt inside of you. He didn’t pull out, keeping his seed nuzzled safely near your womb.

You slumped against his arms, panting softly as the reality of your situation began to wash over you, naked except for the ankle monitor.

How did you get here?

It didn’t matter, because all roads lead to Simon.

Tag list: @Sweetlike-sugarplum, @thatpersonamedrook, @aphinthestars, @misscaller06, @shushyoudontknowme, @youknowits-derea, @succubusvalentine, @sundaescreamcheese

[stripes-stripes-babyy]

What's something you want to learn

I.. I want to learn how to stop wondering if this is all a pre death dream or an afterlife and I'm still rotting under the floorboard while momma covers my blood with a new rug. I want to learn how to live like a normal kid who doesn't know what it feels like to have your face caved in... I want to learn feel okay again... I pretend so eli doesn't worry. He won't see this... its fine. He thinks I'm fine so I am.