#you want a bloody muse? here’s your bloody muse.

[are-we-really-doing-this]

I just think this pic of Jimmy Rave is kinda neat.

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: people say suffering is what it means to be a shroud. you could not think more different.

WARNINGS: mentions of blood & self mutilation.

COMMENTS: PHEW THIS ONE WAS A DOOZY!!! idia stop being my muse pls 🙏🙏 i keep writing 2k - 3k word fics in one sitting because of you

“Don’t you wish the world treated him better?”

You blink, entranced by the swirls of green. The voice beckons you closer.

How was that door open...? It should have been closed, right...?

“Don’t you wish you three could live up on the surface, like everyone else?”

More voices have joined.

“Don’t you want that for him and his brother?”

It sounds beautiful, like a symphony.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud.”

You step closer, muscles relaxing as you slip under their spell. The voices are right. They deserved better. They should have been able to live where they pleased, to escape this island and their fate.

The voices giggle—they know they’re right.

They’ve reached you.

Black consumes your vision, blocking out the glowing green. You shut your eyes. Your world grows darker. There's a seizing in your chest and a fluttering in your heart as something pours into your body, staining you.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud.”

“Set us free, and we’ll set all of you free.”

—

The hallways are blaring red, but all Idia sees is the floor swimming in his vision. Ortho is by his side as he punches access code after access code into the door panels, running like he’s never run before. He has a stitch in his side but he keeps going, your face flashing in his mind.

He lost Ortho once. He’s not losing someone again.

It’s like the stairs last forever, winding deeper and deeper into the Earth. Idia doesn’t stop running once, even though he feels like he’s going to fall over and throw up. He’s almost one-hundred percent certain Ortho has carried him at some point but his mind is too messy and his vision is too muddled to care.

Time seems to slow as he reaches the bottom. He raises his head as his ears ring, and the second he lays eyes on you it’s like his vision is clear again. Ink pours out of you and the black markings on your face are all too familiar. Blue fire spits out from behind you and your shrieks are heartbreaking, like you’re wailing for something you want so badly but could never have. Wings sprout from your back, broken and crooked, feathers twisted and clumped. Your hands are worn and bloody from stretching at the walls, and that’s when Idia realizes—

You want to be free.

Guilt crashes over him and it's a critical hit. Of course. He should have been sure this is what you wanted. He should have known you’d get sick of life here, even though you said you loved him time and time again, even though you held him on all those nights that he couldn’t sleep because the thoughts were too much, even though you bonded with Ortho and stepped back for him, letting him set boundaries even though that meant not doing things you wanted to do, like holding his hand or kissing his forehead or playing with his hair.

He should have known this wasn’t the life you wanted.

The ring on his finger feels like nothing more than a heavy stone now.

—

It took years for Idia to open up to you about his family situation. In fact, he seemed to be braced for the possibility that you’d leave him in a heartbeat after hearing it. Your heart ached for him when he explained his past and his inevitable future in a soft, low voice, rushing through the whole thing as if it was the scariest thing he’s ever done.

You placed your hand on his knee once he stopped, letting his words trail off into the night.

“I understand you.” you’d said, looking him straight in the eyes. They seemed to glow in the darkness of his room, flickering like a fire about to be put out.

Idia curled in on himself that night, dragging a clump of his hair over his shoulder and twisting it into knots. You’d reached over and gently grabbed his hands, stopping him from tangling his precious hair. You’d gently smoothed out the fiery strands before kneeling in front of him, looking up at him as if paying him reverence.

“I want to stay with you.” you’d said softly, cradling his shaking, fragile hands in yours.

In that moment, it felt like his very heart was beating between your intertwined hands.

Soft sniffles filled the room that night, and you kissed each tear away. More kept coming, more and more and more, his eyes blotchy and red as he tried to keep quiet. You kept quiet too, whispering how much you cared about him and how if he would let you, you’d stay with him forever because you loved him and he deserved someone by his side. You kissed each tear well into the night, fighting his overwhelming sorrow with your love.

—

Your memories are patchy. It’s like you don’t remember who you are, or where you are. In the dark expanse of your mind, you remember two things.

Idia Shroud and Ortho Shroud.

Your throat feels heavy as your heart starts to palpate—what happened? Where is the green glow? Where are all the comforting voices that whispered your new future to you?

Where were the people you were fighting for?

“Vitals stable.” a faraway voice calls, a sharp clatter piercing through your quiet, inky haze, “Commencing full body scan for blot.”

Blot...

Your eyelids pry themselves open. All the energy has been sapped from your body, your limbs heavy and useless. The strings holding them up have been cut, and it's scary that you can’t remember how you were strung up in the first place.

“Mx, we ask that you please stay still.” the man above you is in a white coat, his hands holding a clipboard and a pen.

You nod passively. Something about him seems familiar enough.

His voice drones on statistics about your well being as your eyes slip shut again, and arms of sludge reach out from your mind and pull you back under the ink, into a deep sleep.

—

Idia is chewing on his fingernails again.

He wishes you were here to scold him for it and paint a new coat over them so he wouldn’t chew on them anymore, being too sentimental to mess up your hard work and too repulsed by the taste, even though he would only ever tell you the latter and—

You were still asleep.

Your vitals are stable, You are fine.

You are fine but there are still black scars all over your body.

Your vitals are stable but the marks will stay there forever.

You almost died and it’s his fault.

You want freedom and he took that away when he said “I do.”

He kissed you and he sucked the soul right out of your body, keeping it clutched in his hands because he’s selfish and stupid and why in the world did you even fall in love with him in the first place?

He has nothing to offer you.

Nothing but this.

Suffering and loneliness and contempt and headaches and cold nights and machines that fill your whole day, leaving no room for the whimsical leisure you enjoyed before. There are no more board games, no more trips to the school store, no more fresh air and nighttime walks, no more watching movies and eating gummy worms, no more talking to anyone who isn’t him.

The ring on his finger burns.

—

You don’t know how long it's been since you went to sleep.

You wake up to a room with dark walls and metallic shelves above your head. The bed (cot?) is firm underneath your body, which is adorned by a gray uniform. There’s a desk right across from you with a tablet and a chair. You can’t see anything it’s hooked up to. The one constant among all of these things seems to be the triangular details, criss-crossing and curving and connecting with each other.

They make your vision spin, so you look away.

You stay in bed.

For some reason your face and neck sting, as does your back. You trace the parts of your face that burn, finding that the areas are almost symmetrical on both sides.

What happened?

“...Idia?” you whisper, your left hand resting over your smoothly beating heart.

The door opens.

Your heart lurches into your throat when you see a dark uniform, fiery blue hair that swings well past his elbows, and eyes that are sunken in. His skin is as pale as ever, his lips chapped and bitten by worry, his nails stubbed and torn, but—

He came.

But it’s him.

He came when you called.

“...Idia—!” you gasp, choking on your words as you lurch forward and cough, black ink splattering all over your gray shirt.

“Easy!” he yelps, rushing to your side. You feel his cold hand press against your back and you lean into the touch, starved for it.

“What happened?” you ask between smaller coughs, following his hand and he lays you back down.

Idia bites his lip. He does not answer.

Instead, he turns his back to you and moves over to the desk grabbing the tablet. He still doesn’t look at you as he taps a few bottoms. He gnaws on his lower lip before twisting the chair to face you and sitting down.

“How much do you remember?” he counters your question with another question, eyes heavier than usual.

“I remember green.” you whisper, the intriguing whispers poking into the corners of your mind again, “I remember voices...they said sweet things to me.”

Idia winces as if that’s the last thing he wants to hear.

“You overblotted.” he says, so blunt it surprises both of you, “You went...deeper than you should have, and you overblotted.”

You touch your face. The burning sensation wiggles as if it’s been recognized, and is pleased. It’s like there's something under your skin, something alive and yearning,that was waiting for him to say it.

“Oh.” you whisper, and in turn, the voices begin to beckon you again.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud. Don’t you wish you three could live up on the surface, like everyone else? It’s not fair, is it? He deserves better. His brother deserves better. You all do. We can help you, we can make that happen, you just have to help us—”

“They were phantoms.” you breathe, tracing the lines on your face over and over and over and over and over—

You don't notice when he gets up and reaches for you. Idia grabs your hand when it looks like you’re pressing too hard, your nails digging into your skin. You stop immediately, looking up at him with glossy eyes and trembling lips.

“Idia...is this what it means to be a Shroud?” you ask, forming each word carefully.

The phantoms said as much.

But he says nothing.

“I don’t blame you if you decided this isn’t what you want, you know.” he says, tone flat and disinterested, like you’re someone he doesn’t even know.

“What do you mean?”

“Your phantom looked like it wanted to be free.” he says, tablet still in his hand.

He pulls up the footage of your rage and shows it to you—your crooked, clumped wings and your bloody, inky hands and your screams as you cry for freedom, freedom—

He misunderstands.

“Not for me!” you seize his wrist, squeezing it so hard you fear it’ll break but this important, “For you! Freedom for you! It’s always you and it always will be you! I wanted you to be free and Ortho to be free. I wanted all of us to be free—!”

You start coughing again, this time even harder. Ink splatters on your bed and this time Idia is on you, he’s truly with you, cradling you against his chest as the ink stains his uniform as well. It pours out of you like a dead, polluted river, and yet in a twisted way it’s a symbol of how much you care.

You vaguely feel his nose pressing against your head in the haze, whispering what sounds like swears and pleads but none of it reaches your ears over the sound of your coughing. By the time you’re done, both of you are thoroughly painted with the remnants of blot.

The voices are gone.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” he whispers it into your head like it's a confession, meant for your ears and your ears only, “I thought you...wanted to leave here. Leave me.”

His arms are around you like a vice grip.

You’re grateful you’re alive to see him be selfish.

“Idia...my love.” you say, equally as soft, “How many times do I have to tell you that I want to be with you?”

“It’s hard to believe!” he protests, voice cracking.

He pulls away from you, just enough to look over your face. His eyes are watery and he’s so vulnerable—you really scared him. His thumb traces down the parts of your face that burned, the parts of your face you know will be scarred for life now.

“Good thing I’m still here then.” you smile weakly, cupping his face, “I’ll remind you every single day.”

His ring no longer burns.

His left hand rests over your left, and your rings clink together as they connect.

You’re okay. You still want him. You’re alive.

“You’re crazy.” Idia groans, stepping forward and falling into your arms, “You are absolutely crazy. Any normal person would be running for their life right now, calling me a freak and hyperventilating. A normal person would never want to come back—”

His slumps over you like a big cat, arms encircling you in warmth once again. It’s his way of hiding his expression when he’s getting a bit too into his feelings—you know this by now.

“Goodness. It’s a good thing I’m madly in love with you then.” you laugh, hands splayed out on his shoulder blades as he hugs you again, “You know what they say about love making you do crazy things.”

“Please don’t ever do that again—oh Great Seven.” he squeezes you even tighter and you let him, putty in his hands.

“I’m not planning on it. I promise.”  you reassure him, “I don't want to leave you—”

“It’s not about leaving me, you could have died!” he protests, cradling the back of your head, “I’d be fine if you just left! If you were somewhere else...somewhere safe!”

“You would not be okay with that. Don’t pretend to be.” you chastise him quietly, and you know you’ve won when he goes quiet, “You want to keep me here, and you want me to stay. I want the same thing. You don’t have to pretend I’m a sacrifice that can be made. I didn’t fall in love with you because you’re noble or a goody-goody.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments. Then—

“I love you so much.” he mumbles.

It’s a rare confession, one that has never lost his sweetness even after years together.

Now this, this is what it means to be a Shroud.

It means staying with each other no matter what.

It couldn't be farther from loneliness.

“I love you too.” you murmur back, and his thumbs trace your blot scars as he presses a single, barely noticeable kiss to your forehead.

[queers-gambit]

Shower Shenanigans

part one: Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: midnight callers turn your quiet night upside down, but at least it ends with you riding your stranger in the shower.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.7k+

note: nobody asked for this but he's my muse now

warnings: cursing, smut (unprotected, in the shower, she's on top), blood, wounds, brain rot, author isn't British, probably setting up for part three, wonky brain doesn't care what warnings are missed.

A storm had rolled over Osaka, a steady thrumming at your hotel window creating a calming ambiance as you lit a couple of the candles you ordered from the front desk. Curled up on the tiny loveseat offered in the small living space, you flipped through your latest novel you grabbed before running into Tangerine at the train station. Speaking of, you glared at your phone for the hundredth time in an hour, feeling a sort of overwhelming dread that he hadn't called yet - or at the very least, texted.

Was it silly? Oh, you KNOW it was.

But he had said some really pretty things that rang in your ears on a haunting repeat the rest of the train ride. Then the whole taxi ride through Osaka, and the three days it's been since meeting him - he just wouldn't leave your conscious. Every meeting you had was vaguely interrupted by some sort of thought about your mysterious stranger, driving you up the wall.

Sure, you could call him, but the idea of calling a stranger for no reason other than to hear his voice felt a little too vulnerable to you. Yo could ask where he was, if he wanted to come for a visit - or hell, even before you departed Japan back for London, England, you could come see him... If he so wanted.

But your mind refused to let you dial his number, which was left in your recents after he had texted himself in the bathroom. The memory of your ex was still so fresh, making you feel silly for having such vivid, intense fantasies about a man you've met once. And for the love of Christ, you didn't even know his real name! Just his silly, fruity codename!

Man, if you hadn't been embarrassed before, the memory of moaning a fucking fruit surely made you cringe to the point you wanted the Earth to open up, swallow you whole, and never spit you out.

Your trip was soon to end with your departing flight tomorrow night, giving you just a day of leisure time in the city - but you didn't feel like doing much since the storm. Your book was interesting enough, keeping you entertained with a cart of hot food from room service within arms reach. Your tea was lukewarm by now, being much easier to drink, bowl of air-popped popcorn sat in your lap. Over the sounds of thunder, there was a knock at your door.

More like a banging, but hey, logistics. This was odd considering it was close to nine in the evening and you hadn't called for anything.

With a sigh, you marked your page and stood; annoyed by the continuous knocking, oversized tee shirt falling back over your thighs, socked feet stuffing into your slippers before traveling to the door. You called in Japanese, "Who is it?"

There was a small scraping, making your brows furrow and call your question again - but with much more urgency. "'S me, love, open the door, please," a raspy, British accent croaked seemingly through the crack. You left the chain lock in place, slowly opening the door a fraction to discover Tangerine - bloodied to high hell - leaning on the doorframe of your hotel room with two other bloody men behind him.

"What the fuck? Jesus Christ," you hissed, shutting the door, snapping the chain off and yanking it open once more. "Get in here, are you okay?" You asked, gasping right after when Tangerine stumbled a little, making you catch him; assualting your sinuses with the smell of citrus, metallic blood, and cigarette smoke. "All right, all right, you're safe now, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon," you muttered, helping him over your shoulders and into your decently spacious hotel room. "C'mon, you two! Step lively before you trigger hotel security!"

You shuffled your stranger into the room and deposited him on the sofa; hearing his grunt of exaggerated pain. You looked at the others, sighing as you moved things out of the way, inviting the other two men to sit around the furniture. You tried not to worry about the cleaning bill you would surely get for all their blood.

"Jesus Christ, did you get shot?" You asked, seeing the fleshy wound in his shoulder that was very poorly staunched.

"That arsehole did it," he panted, pointing at the blonde stranger.

"Hi," the arsehole waved, "it was an accident, for whatever it's worth. I, uh... I have bad luck, don't really like guns," he shrugged meekly.

"You lot look like hell," you sighed, shaking your head and standing to your feet to take a few steps away. You asked over your shoulder, "Guess I shouldn't bother asking what happened?"

"Train wreck," the man Tangerine had been with earlier answered.

You blinked in shock, the men all wincing as they were seemingly finally able to relax. Only now, you noted they were all in the same clothes as days ago, just tattered, torn, burnt and singed, soaking wet from the storm, stained with blood. You looked at Tangerine, demanding, "Is that why you told me to get off the train? You were gonna crash it!?"

"No, no, darlin', that wasn't the plan," Tangerine coughed, head tilted back. "Just... Happened."

"Call it his bad luck, huh?" You shook your head and moved for the hotel's phone, dialing the front desk and waiting. When they answered, the cheery front desk girl asked how she could help and you asked her what first aid supplies the hotel kept stocked. She answered and you asked if you'd be able to get enough for three kits - claiming you were practicing for a medical school final. She was more than happy to oblige, telling you her brother did much of the same, and she'd send the kits right up.

Thanking her, you hung up, and turned back for room. You found a pair of shorts and hopped into them for modesty, using your ice bucket to fill with water, grabbing whatever hand towels and washcloths you could. You set the bucket to the coffee table, dipping the cloths in for the two strangers, asking, "You guys wanna clean up a bit?"

"Please," the blonde wheezed.

You nodded, handing over the wet towels and moved the bucket a little closer for them to reach. You introduced yourself to them, offering a smile, turning for Tangerine and taking a seat beside him to start cleaning him up. "Lemon," your companion's counterpart introduced.

"Ladybug."

"More fucking codenames," you mumbled, shaking your head, trying to mop up Tangerine's forehead. "Jesus, fuck, sweetheart, what did you do? Bash your head through a glass wall?"

"Window, actually," he mumbled, reaching up to caress your wrist and cracking his eyes open. "Thank you, darlin'."

"Hush," you smiled, wiping the blood from his mouth. "You guys are gonna need showers and new clothes, huh?" You looked at the other two, who were scattered around the room to use whatever reflective surface they could find.

"That'd be nice," Ladybug nodded. "Anyone any cash?"

You sighed, "I've got you guys, 's all right."

As you reached for the bucket of warm water again to rinse the washcloth and wring it out, you missed the looks Lemon and Tangerine exchanged; both mildly impressed with your generosity and kindness. Certainly, someone who would never get tangled up in the lot of them on regular circumstances.

The knock at your door made the entire room still, you sparing them a skeptical look and reprimanding as you stood, "Relax, it's just the supplies."

Still, Lemon and Ladybug made sure they were out of sight as Tangerine just couldn't move once deposited on the sofa. You greeted the service worker, strategic in how wide you opened the door, and accepted the supplies; thanking the man, closing the door, and depositing the materials on your still-made bed.

However, a new thought occurred and you picked up the phone once more. When it connected to the front desk, you asked if your conjoining room was vacant - and to your shock, it was. You asked if they would add the room to yours because your friend suddenly decided to join you (not a total lie), and some 20 minutes later, you were giving Ladybug and Lemon their own room keys. You propped the conjoining door open, the two men using the first aid kits and the other room's shower as you got Tangerine to a point you didn't think he would bleed out.

"Okay, sweetheart," you caressed his jaw, "I'm gonna pop over to the shops across the street, okay? Grab you guys some necessities."

"You don't have to, we shouldn't burden you like this," he whispered.

"You guys can't walk around in these clothes," you chuckled.

"Have been."

"Yeah, on the side of the road, huh?"

"Back of a tangerine truck for a bit, too," he chuckled.

"Well, that's fitting. Look, just," you sighed, leaning in to peck his lips softly, "stay here, rest, eat, I'll be right back. Get a shower if you feel able, yeah?"

He nodded, just looking you over for a moment. "I'm sorry," he whispered, shaking his head, "I didn't know where else t'go. Whole plan went t'shit, we were out of options, love, just... Didn't know where t'turn ta."

"How'd you even find me?"

He shrugged, "I have my ways."

"Well, that's doesn't vaguely make you sound like a stalker." Another peck to his amused smile. "I'll be right back, promise," you stood, found a pair of sweats, a hoodie, and changed your shoes before heading out the door.

Was it stupid to leave three strangers alone in your hotel room? For sure. But you still went, you were a caring person by nature and the idea of making them fend for themselves felt wrong.

Especially after the state they showed up in, Tangerine's soft words about not knowing where to go; you just wanted to help since you had the ability to.

Across the street, splashing through puddles, you zipped around what was available and gathered three sets of sweatpants, shirts, jackets or hoodies, and figured their shoes were fine for now until they could change them later. You grabbed a few snacks and bottles of water, sports drinks, and energy drinks, paid, and made it back to your hotel room.

"Oh, blessings, you sweet girl!" Lemon gasped when you presented the change of clothes and snacks. "Oh, fuck yeah," he whispered to himself, taking the gift and going to change as you tossed Ladybug his own set.

When you found Tangerine, he was in the same place - but at least he didn't look worse. Just exhausted.

"Hey," you cooed, caressing his head and watching his eyes crack open.

"You're back," he smiled.

"Mhm," you hummed, "and you need a shower. C'mon, then you can get in bed, get some rest."

"Nah, love," he groaned when you took his wrists, "let's jus' go t'bed."

"Tan, you're absolutely disgusting right now, you'll feel better under the water. C'mon, there's a shower seat, you don't have to do anything, I'll help you."

He winced when you helped him on his feet, hobbling into the bathroom as Ladybug and Lemon were chowing down on whatever they could get their hands on. In the bathroom, you shut the door, set a clean towel on the counter, and turned to see him leaning on a wall, just watching you. You offered a soft smile, starting the shower to hea up, and then approaching him.

"Easy," you whispered, helping him unlatch his belt, step from his shoes, and then shed his trousers. His waistcoat followed, then his button-up, you gasping lightly, "Oh, fuck! Oh, my God. Yeah," you gently pet his side, prodding the dark wound, "you've got some broken ribs, sweetheart. Fuck's sake."

"That arsehole did that, too," he mused.

"Seriously? Damn, how'd you get your arse handed to yah by a lad named Ladybug?" You joked, dropping his boxers and pulling him from the wall. You made sure he was on the shower seat before stepping back and stripping yourself, joining him in the heat and getting to your knees.

With another washcloth, you gently suds over his body, the soap helping sweep away from grime. He let you work, scrubbing his feet, then working up his legs, rinsing, reapplying the soap, and continuing on your way. You washed his thighs and up his hips, to his waist, ignoring the way his cock stirred to life, bobbing into your elbow as it swelled. You were gentle over his bruises, the water feeling nice over your tired bodies; the soft scents of the soap soothing.

When you straightened up to wash his chest, you missed the way his eyes scanned over your soaking wet form. Feeling your hands on his collarbones, he reached down to seize your hips and heave - making you yelp. "The hell are you doing?" You gasped, needing to stabilize yourself on the wall and his non-shot shoulder.

"'S been three days too long, just wanted yah close," he whispered, sighing as his hands smoothed down your hips; gripping the flesh until indentations appeared.

You tisked, "You're hurt, you don't need t'fuckin' lift me. Use your words next time, won't you?"

He chuckled, "And what? Risk you sayin' no 'cause you don't wanna hurt me? Nah, love," he sighed. "Just wanted yah close, t'feel yah."

You hummed, "Close your eyes."

"Hmm?"

You held up the shampoo bottle, squirting a generous amount into your hand before starting to lather it into his scalp. He groaned, hissed at a few intervals, but overall let you work your fingers through his curls; pulling out any knots, shards of glass, and loosening the dried blood.

"You all right?" You checked, lifted on your knees to work; breasts all but pressed into his face.

"Mhm," he hummed, coiling his arms around you so he could literally just press his face into your cleavage. You chuckled, giving him a quick cuddle as he pecked your skin slowly, and continuing your work. When you lowered yourself back to his lap, your bare cunt drug down his shaft, making you both groan. "Baby," he seethed through his teeth, gripping the back of your neck to keep you close, "please, just - get on me, yeah? Need yah - on a biblical level, darlin'."

"You're hurt," you weakly refused, your resolve barely hanging on by a thread.

"Not so hurt that I can't enjoy this, huh?" He argued, licking over your lips to halt all rational thought. "C'mon, love, we hiked it three days here - after a fuckin' train wreck. I would've dropped if not for the thought of you, seein' yah, touchin' you again. Don't even gotta move, just sit there, love."

"If I do, will you finally just sit still and let me clean you up?"

"Whatever baby wants, she'll have, swear it," he grinned, hoisting you into his arms so he could grip his throbbing cock, lower you, and line himself up until you were impaling yourself on him. "Jesus, fuck!" He snapped, mixing with your whimper at his impossible stretch. "Ah, you feel so fuckin' good, doll, this is it - this is what I needed, huh? All I fuckin' needed - fuck - right fuckin' here."

"Hush," you whispered with an embarrassed smile, glancing back. "I need the shower head."

"I got us," he answered, holding you tight and standing with a small grunt. He easily grabbed the shower head, handing it to you, letting you rinse his hair out as he turned to pin you against the wall with his hips for balance.

"This isn't just sitting," you mocked, soap flowing down his shoulders and chest. "Close your eyes, please," you whispered, wiping the frothy suds from his face as he did. "God, your curls are magnificent, seriously, why does God give the best qualities to men - who don't even appreciate what they have?"

He laughed lightly, "Gotta get your attention somehow."

"Mhm, these lashes? Not even a drop of mascara," you mused, pecking the tip of his nose while one hand held his jaw. "And this jawline? Baby, this alone could cut glass."

"Like your nipples, right?" He teased, nipping your collarbones; both acutely aware of your pebbled nips dancing across his flesh each time you moved. He chuckled, readjusting you when you reached to set the shower head back in the holder; making sure it could cascade over the bench still. "We done?" He asked softly.

"Nope, got the conditioner," you rolled your eyes, holding his shoulders when he moved back for the seat; still firmly inside you. When he sat again, you released a high-pitched breath when the position pushed him further into you; your legs folding beside his thighs to keep the ideal grip.

"In a second," he smirked, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. "Just need this, yeah?" He spoke against your lips, licking into your mouth. "Been hiking with a fucking hard-on for days, love, just fuckin' need this," he hissed into your mouth, teeth raking over your bottom lip in a possessive bite. You moaned quietly, lost in the ministrations of kissing him like a drunk teenager, barely aware when he started moving your hips over him.

"Tan," you tried.

"C'mon, love, we both need it," he shook his head. "Tell me to stop and I will, but I think we both need this."

With a long sigh, you pet his cheek, deciding, "Fine, but we're taking it easy, you're still - " But then there was a loud knock at the bathroom door, Lemon calling your name in question. You slapped a hand over Tangerine's irritated mouth when he looked ready to yell his protest, answering, "What is it, honey, are you guys okay? What's wrong?"

"Yeah, just, uh... Can we order a couple things from room service? Bit starving, thinkin' something hot?"

"Oh, yeah, whatever you guys need!" You encouraged happily, Tangerine biting your palm and making your hand retract with a small whine and pout.

"Oi!" He called over the shower stream.

"Yeah?" Lemon was heard laughing.

"Don't run up her bill, mate!"

"It's okay," you whispered, pecking his forehead. "Get what you need, Lemon," you called, "but order Tangerine something to eat, too, please!"

"On it, love! Thank you!"

"Oh! Of course!" You beamed back at Tangerine, who offered you a mild look of annoyance.

"Now, why do that?" He asked, grinding your hips on his again. "Huh? Those two will eat you outta house and home, love."

"It's fine, you guys have been through a lot," you promised, connecting your lips in a long kiss. "Now, you wanna keep talking financials or put the rest of this hot water to use?"

"There's my girl," he grunted, standing from the bench to move fully under the water; pinning you to the wall again.

You grunted when you collided with the cold tile, but the warm tongue in your mouth was plenty distraction. You held his neck like it was your single tether to life, teeth clashing, tongues wagging, lips wet and creating obscene sounds the more intense the kisses turned.

"Fuck," you felt the air punch from your lungs when Tangerine pulled his hips back to start thrusting; brows furrowed together in concentration as he worked in and out of you at an already brutal pace. You didn't complain - he obviously needed this, and by God, it felt otherworldly.

"'Ats my girl, so fuckin' good for me," he muttered, needing this more than you have ever before; each hand holding a thigh to keep you spread open for his taking, hips hammering into yours as his balls slapped the apex of your cunt to echo around the room.

You felt incoherent when he picked up his speed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder when your head was thrown back as he worked you closer, closer, closer to your release. There was no thought in your mind, just Tangerine; drunk on his smell, taste, touch, never wanting this feeling to end.

Just outside the bathroom, Ladybug was accepting the room service order when he heard the messy, obscene noises coming from the bathroom; looking wide eyed at the closed door. Lemon laughed, "Might wanna walk away, Joburg, he don't like nobody listening in."

"Kinda hard to when they're that loud," he blanched when you released a pornographic moan as Tangerine readjusted his stance so his cock was piercing what felt like straight through you. Lemon laughed at Ladybug being startled so much he literally scurried away.

"C'mon, love," Tangerine panted.

"Go back," you moaned, pawing at his shoulders as you felt too slippery in this position.

"Huh?"

"Sit!" You insisted, him pulling back from the wall and backing up until the bench hit the back of his knees - dropping him. "There's my boy," you mocked, a hand on the wall, the other on his good shoulder, supporting you to vigorously ride him. You felt renewed energy now that he was obviously okay, only his bullet wound still weeping - something you'll patch up once out of the water.

"Oh, holy fuck," Tangerine moaned, louder than you would've thought; his head thumping back to the wall and losing all composure. "That's it, doll, keep like that - ohhh, fuck me!"

"Exactly what I'm doing, yeah?" You teased, moving your hand to his throat and keeping pressure enough not to fully choke his air supply, but enough to make him moan at the feeling.

His mouth dropped open as you rode him enthusiastically, feeling determined to reward him for coming all this way to track you down. Yeah, sure, for a moment, it was concerning, but now, you simply didn't care that three strangers had found your hotel room and now crashed with you.

Nothing mattered when this deliriously delicious cock was inside you.

"Jesus!" Tangerine moaned, hands to your hips to help you move, but it seemed the years in your youth as an equestrian was truly paying off. Call it muscle memory, but years after mastering the posting trot and the correct canter diagonal, you were riding Tangerine as if you'd drop dead if you didn't. And he felt it, he felt all of it. "Yeah, you're too good at this," he groaned, "so fuckin' good - Goddamnit - fuck me. Just like that, love, keep going - fuck, I'm right there."

You smirked, pushing his neck back so we was pinned to the wall now, his eyes locked with yours, mouth agape, your breasts bouncing with vigor. You squeaked when Tangerine braced his feet, his own hips thrusting up into you to match your movements; adding to both your mounting pleasures as the shower created a cloud of steam around you both in a welcomed lung-choking heat.

You honestly didn't mean to, but the absolute gut-wrecking pleasure you felt was enough for you to moan in Tangerine's ear, "Daddy."

It seemed the right word as Tangerine groaned in an echo, thrusting faster to the point you couldn't keep up. You could only moan, groan, squeak, cry-out as he jackhammered up into you - something that made Lemon and Ladybug exchange looks, gather their things, and rush back over to their adjoining room to leave you both a fraction of privacy.

"Yeah, tell Daddy how good it is," he seethed in your ear, opening his mouth, and biting down on your neck; hand tightly wound in your hair.

"So good."

"How good?"

"Too good, Daddy, please," you sobbed, braced on his shoulders and chest as his arms held you tight to let him thrust with abandon. "Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God, yes, yes, yes," you praised, your orgasm rushing higher and higher to a new height. "Fuck," you moaned in his ear, "need this cock everyday. Went three days without, felt like I was losing my fucking mind."

"Feelin's mutual, love, so fuckin' mutual," he agreed, his cock swelling, "just needed t'get here, find yah again. Shit, fuck," he looked to where you were conjoined, praising, "gonna need yah home address - ain't no way we're goin' without one another, huh? Hey?"

"Yes, yes, yes," you squeaked, "there - there - there!"

His thumb pressed to your clit and you were done for. Grinding and humping into his hips, you crashed over the other side of your orgasm; feeling mildly limp as you slumped against his shoulder, letting Tangerine thrust a few more times.

"YES!" He shouted your name through clenched teeth, holding you with a vice grip as he bottomed out, balls contracting, squirting his full load inside you with shuddering breaths.

"Oh, my God," you sniffled, holding onto him as your legs were spent and you knew, the odds of you moving any time soon were slim to none.

"Yeah," Tangerine chuckled, leaning back to the wall as he panted; keeping hold of you. "Yah all right, love?"

"Uh-huh," you breathed, still absentminded.

"Yeah," he mused, pecking below your ear. "Just what the doctor ordered, huh?"

"Think the doctor would want your wound closed," you slowly sat off him, looking to the bloody hole and frowning as you pet around the irritated skin. He winced gently, making you frown, "Let's go, love, you need this tended to."

Only, when you dismounted, his cock flopping out of you once released, you tried to find your feet but only found the floor.

"C'mon, love, you just sit," he sighed, scooping you up and switching spots. He set you on the bench, stood, rinsed off under the water, readjusted the stream so it hit you a little better as he lathered conditioner into his curls with one arm.

"You're supposed to leave it sit for a bit," you tisked when he washed the conditioner out; shaking his curls.

"'S all right, still does the job."

"Your girlfriends never taught you haircare?"

He cleared his throat, looking a bit sheepish as he avoided your eyes. "Never really had one outside of secondary school. Job doesn't make dating the easiest, yeah?"

You furrowed your brows gently, then nodded, "Okay, well, just means you've room to learn, right?"

"Yeah, sure. You gonna teach me, love?" He mused, slicking his hair back in the water before shutting it off; wringing a few strands out.

"Why not?" You smiled. "But you gotta teach me something in return."

"Hmm? What's that you wanna learn?"

"How to shoot a gun."

He offered you a long look, seemingly skeptical. You accepted his hand and got from the bench, squeezing when the weight of your body made them tremble lightly. Stepping out, you both dried off with towels as he offered, "Why d'you think I know how to shoot a gun?"

"Tellin' me that Ladybug fellow is the only one? That's fine, I can ask him," you quipped, making him instantly respond,

"Nah, nah, nah, nah, don't do all that, I'll teach yah, love."

You smiled softly, wrapping your hair in a towel and approaching him - still naked. "Thank you," you whispered, kissing his lips in a soft, sweeping motion that made him hum in the back of his throat and reach for your bare arsecheek. "Now, c'mon, let's get you stitched up before you go startin' something you can't finish."

"You met me, love? I always finish," he gave a cheeky squeeze.

"Mhm, might be the last time, too, with this blood loss. Huh?"

He relented in a head nod and wrapped the towel around his hips, watching you shrug on a fluffy white robe and tie the sash. He took your hand, laced your fingers together, and exited the bathroom - only to come to a shocking halt.

There was blood trailed all over the room, medical supplies strewn around, and several food wrappers. "Told yah, love," Tangerine sighed.

"It's okay," you smiled, "they'll clean it."

"You're so sure?"

"I'm very persuasive," you eased. "C'mon, sit," you ushered him back to the bloodied sofa, figuring damage was already done and anymore blood wouldn't make much of a difference. You grabbed whatever material you could, snapping on rubber gloves and taking a deep breath. "Ready?" You asked Tangerine.

"One more kiss and you can have at it," he sighed, leaning in until you met him happily; offering several swipes of his tongue before resting his forehead on your own.

"It'll sting for a bit," you warned, holding the bottle of alcohol.

"C'mon, darlin', 's all right, I can handle - OH! FUCKS SAKE!" He cursed when you poured the disinfectant over his bullet wound.

In the next room, Ladybug and Lemon shared a look before snickering as if two juvenile boys at a sleepover. And honestly? Spot the difference.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[shotmrmiller]

Spotter!141 this time is the captain of my heart, Price. Look at him! He's a bloody unit.

It was back day, and you were squatting down to raise the bar between your legs. The lifting belt around your waist is tight and with an exhale you tighten your grip on the t-bar row handle— hissing at the callouses on your hands— and lift. 

Your legs are bent as you lower the bar with control before raising it again, plates hitting your sternum. Your back is on fire, drops of sweat dripping off of your forehead, and with one last rep, you let go of the handle.

Breathing heavily, you bend over to pick up your aminos when as you turn around, you see him. A tall man, broad and muscular with ice-blue eyes, and a mutton chop beard— and he’s pointing at the bar by your feet.

You take one earphone out and look at him.

“You mind if I work in with you?” 

Giving him a thumbs up, he sets his gym bag by yours and grabs one, two then 3 plates. Guess that explains the wings he could fly away with. He does his set and you try to not stare at his vascular thick forearms, the way his traps bunch up with every up motion— or the grunts he lets out from deep in his chest with every rep. Jesus Christ. 

It’s your turn now, and after he removes the plates he used, you get into position when a gentle tap on your arm gets your attention. It’s your temporary gym buddy. 

“Your form looks great but you could make some adjustments. If I may?” and well, you’d never turn down help from someone who clearly knows what he’s doing.

 You nod and then he says, “Get into the starting position.” The authoritative tone in his voice sent shivers down your spine. Always weak to men with accents.

Squatting down, you pick up the bar and before you even get a rep in, he says, “Hold.” 

His commanding voice is going to ruin you. He snaps you out of your inner musings when he approaches you to fix your posture. A large hand pressing into your lower back— almost upper glutes.

With a little more strength, he pushes your hips down further as he murmurs, “Lower,” and now you’re definitely being a reprobate. 

“Good. You want to be going into a partial romanian deadlift in order to get the full extension of the row.” 

You wonder if you could partial RDL on that co— 

“Y’okay, love? You’re not hurting or anything, eh?” 

Blushing, you nod aggressively, as if to physically shake off your filthy thoughts. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m finished with my workout anyway. Thank you for the help!” you grin at him and the soft smile he returns makes your heart flutter. Damn.

“Of course. If you ever want to workout together again, I usually arrive at 7. Look f’me.” then his soft blue eyes look at yours, “I’m John.” 

Cheeks burning up, you tell him your name and he just says, “I know, love. I always notice when you’re here.”

And if that isn’t him giving you the green light to jump his bones, you don't know what is.

[2aceofspades]

TW: Blood/Injury, Implied Death

_______________________________________________

With you

Lil one-shot I guess...??

_______________________________________________

After the dust cleared, it was dead silent. The air was thick with moisture from the dark clouds looming above them all. Someone, probably Raphael, yelled out something Two didn't quite process, his ears still ringing as his vision slowly cleared.

A faint blue glow flickered in the near distance, not too far from where Two was slumped on the ground. More muffled shouts rang out as Two attempted to collect himself, staggering to his feet and trudging over to the source of-

No.

Just the image alone was enough to bring Two collapsing back to his knees. Stupid, he thought.

"H-hey..." One's weak voice just barely got through to Two, snapping him right out of his thoughts.

He stared down at the dimming blue glow, watching it flicker and fade in and out. How the hell are you still here, breathing?

His thoughts became flooded in his head, even more so as he felt his arms cradle his brother's near-lifeless body.

"Did we win?"

Two felt his jaw clench at One's question, feeling frighteningly close to grinding his teeth until they were flat.

Did we win?

The question echoed in Two’s head, as if that would better help him process this moment. In any other instance, he would have deflected and scoffed at such an empty, meaningless question. Did it matter? he thought as he titled his head up, looking around briefly at the wasteland that surrounded them. It was over, that much was apparent.

"Yes,” he huffed, looking down at his brother in his arms as he continued, “Now, shut it and save your strength. Your heart-"

"I know," One croaked out in between a few sputtering breaths, interrupting Two in more ways than one. Two tried to ignore the cast-off of blood coming from his brother's mouth, despising the sickening feeling settling in his stomach as it hit his chin. One smiled weakly up at his brother, his eyes dull and unfocused.

How dare you, Two thought to himself.

His eyes flickered from One's exposed heart, bleeding out and hardly beating, and back to his brother’s face. His brother looked beaten, bloody...broken. It wasn't a look he saw from him often, if at all. It was that damn smile that he watched waver as One's heart beat softer and softer. What cruel irony, Two couldn't help but think, a metaphorical expression brought to life by his stupid, thoughtless, idiotic brother.

Two could still fix this. Even as he held his brother tighter against his own plastron and felt his shirt get soaked by the horrid mix of blood and empyrean; he thought to himself how he'd be the one to fix this.

There was no other choice left.

“Good…” One let out the softest of chuckles, “…we…we can s-start over.”

Something in Two’s own chest faltered, even just briefly. It was enough to shut out the feeling of One’s pathetic coughs and wheezes against him. He watched how One's eyes dulled further, his gaze wandering away from Two's face.

Starting over? That wasn’t ever an option, not one that Two had ever weighed in his mind. He wasn’t sure if that was even an option now. After everything he had done, everything he sacrificed, worked for…his brother still wanted to burn it, bury everything down and out of Two’s reach. One wanted this win, he wanted the impossible.

“Impossible…” Two muttered under his breath.

He heard yet another faint chuckle. And then the dense silence that followed.

_______________________________________________

~bonus doodles~

(':

[jobean12-blog]

Up for a little game?🤭🤭

How would you meet:

Mob!Bucky, Vampire!Bucky and/or Barista/Baker!Bucky

And how would they ask you out. Or would you ask them out?

Bloody Kisses

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Summary: Bucky finally makes you his.

Author's Note: SYDNEY! I've had Vampire!Bucky on my mind with all these new pics of him looking so yummy and then you sent this and I was like eeeeeeee here's my sign! So this is how you would meet and he would definitely be the one making all the moves. Vampire AU is an absolute favorite of mine so I can never get enough of it! Thanks so much for thinking of me and sending this little thot in! Hope you've had a lovely weekend and you enjoy this! HUGS!🥰❤️🥰Thank you all for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!

Warnings: Bucky is irresistible in every way and he wants you. Mentions of blood, tension, some softness.

You’re mid conversation when you sense the change. It’s as if the stale air has been sucked away and replaced with something more tangible, something seductive.

Natasha’s eyes are focused on whatever is beyond your shoulder, toward the entrance of the hall.

Everyone around you seems to be looking in the same direction, so you place your drink down and turn.

A man stands just inside the arched doorway, his black jacket draped over his shoulders, the garment fitted perfectly and accentuating their broad width. His long fingers splay against the lush fabric, a gold ring glinting under the light of chandeliers, and his covetous blue eyes focused on you.

“Do you know him?” Natasha asks.

“No,” you breathe out, nearly swaying on your feet. “But I’m going to make sure I get to know him.”

An inexplicable awareness races across your skin coupled with a heat only he can set ablaze. He approaches and your pulse quickens, the urge to run into his arms something you need to fight against.

He wears all black, from his tight-fitted turtleneck down to his shined shoes and his strong jaw is shadowed with dark hair but his skin, it glows, smooth and soft.

When he walks toward you, he moves with such a sensual purpose that you notice the other women around you swooning.

But he makes no sign that he notices. His eyes stay trained on you, hungry and determined.

Without removing his gaze from yours, he takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips, turning it over and kissing the inside of your wrist, savoring the rapid pulse of your blood.

His lips linger there, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before they open and he smiles, turning your hand over to kiss your palm and then finally, each of your fingertips.

“You taste divine,” he whispers.

Your breath catches in your throat at the forwardness of his words.

You barely hear Natasha’s gasp, this man’s very existence consuming your every thought and somehow you know it’s the same for him. He’s oblivious to anything but you.

He speaks his name, hushed and soft along the shell of your ear, before he pulls you away from the crowd.

“Walk with me?” he asks as he leads you toward the glass doors at the back of the room.

You nod and fall into step beside him, taking his offered elbow.

The fragrance of the night hits you the moment you step outside, the lush gardens on the estate in full bloom and the full moon bright and silvery in the dark sky.

“The stars are beautiful tonight,” you muse as you look up.

“Mm,” he hums, and you bring your eyes back down, feeling the weight of his stare.

It’s hard to look away and you easily fall deeper into an intimacy that you can’t seem to recover from.

“And yet you shine brighter than any,” he murmurs, tucking you closer and brushing his thumb across your bottom lip.

You tremble in his arms, the feeling heady and addictive.

“How come I’ve never seen you before?” you ask as you walk deeper into the gardens.

“And yet it’s as if I know your heartbeat better than any melody that has touched my ears.”

You would swoon if you didn’t have the strength of his arms around you, but some part of your head still remains clear enough to say, “that didn’t answer my question.”

He just smiles and plucks a white flower from the nearby plant as you pass it and holds it under your nose.

“It smells amazing,” you whisper.

“Queen of the night,” he explains. “It only blooms under the cover of darkness and often wilts with the rising sun.”

Your mouth dips into a frown as you look down at the beautiful flower. “So, we can never see it bloom in the sun?”

He takes the stem from your hand and tucks it into the breast pocket of his jacket.

“No,” he says, tucking two fingers under your chin and bringing your gaze to his. “But the night offers so much to be in love with and yet, never asks for anything but our company.”

You let his words sink in and a small smile teases your lips.

His fingers trace their outline, his touch delicate but completely consuming.

Your lips part with a gasp and you feel his body tense against yours, his gaze wandering over your face and down the delicate column of your neck.

His fingertips fall, slowly tracing the outline of your throat and his thumb presses against your wildly beating pulse.

“Are you scared?” he asks, lifting his dark lashes to look you in the eyes.

“No,” you whisper and press yourself closer.

He releases you and pulls you further down the path, bathing you in the shadowed recesses of the overgrowth of plants.

Your back hits the stone wall, the feel of the cool leaves brushing along your skin.

His features look stronger here in the shadows, hard, thrown into sharp relief under the obscured glow of the moon. His cheekbones resemble carved stone, his eyes dark, his lips lush and exaggerated.

He gives you no time to hesitate, gripping your neck, his palm cool and steady while his thumb presses to the hollow of your throat.

It’s possessive and sends a silent thrill up your spine.

A smart girl would push him away. Pretend she’d rather be somewhere else and run for the safety of the light, the safety of the crowded party. r

Instead, you lift your chin and meet the slight dip of his head, your noses brushing and your breath catching.

“I don’t usually meet men like this,” you say. “I hardly kiss on the first date.”

You swallow and close your eyes, opening them again to find him smiling down at you.

“I know,” he says, unbothered. Undeterred.

He licks his lips before he kisses you, innocent and soft. You moan into the kiss, swallowing his mumbled whispers of praise.

Your skin tingles and a heat builds inside your chest, pushing down into your belly where it pools low, down between your legs. You want him so badly you feel restless and urgent, a need you can’t explain clawing in your throat.

You dig your hands into his hair, holding him to you, barely letting him move a breath away.

But it’s all a ruse. He pulls free of your grip easily, the power he holds undeniable, and looks at you with a passion burning in his eyes.

“I have waited a lifetime for you,” he murmurs against your mouth, trailing his lips along your jaw.

Your head falls back against the wall, exposing the soft skin that flutters violently over the flow of your blood.

He kisses softly under your ear, once, twice, and then slides his mouth lower, sucking on your skin until you’re arching into him. The first pierce of his fangs is nothing but euphoria and when he begins to gently suck you cry out his name.

The sip is barely enough to satisfy him and with a great effort he pulls away, lips stained red and blue eyes anchoring yours.

“And all the lifetimes we’ll share will never be enough.”

His words make little sense to you now, your entire existence being slowly devoured by his every touch.

When his large hands grip your hips and he drags you into him again, you go willingly, the sharp sting at your throat setting you ablaze.

This time he doesn’t hold back, drinking you in until your pulse slows, and your eyes begin to dim. You fall limp in his arms, and he gently releases you, trailing a delicate finger along your cheek before he cuts into his wrist and holds it above your parted lips.

“Drink,” he whispers.

You’re weak at first but with his gentle coaxing you suck harder, your strength returning as the taste of his blood moves through you. Revives you.

A feeling like you’ve never experienced before fills all your senses, throbbing in your lips and fingers, in your very skin. And when you meet his eyes once again it’s with new sight, his long fingers reaching up to trace your cheek.

“You,” he whispers, brushing his bloody lips along yours, “are mine for eternity.”

[fleurhcss]

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ 𝐈 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 - Hyunjin x FEM Reader!

cw : photographer Hyunjin, needs a muse, reader and him will meet in his exhibition, blood, murder, nudes, sculpture classes, dead body tw, if you are sensible pls don't interact, MDNI. SENSITIVE CONTENT!

sw : blood kink, hair pulling, degradation, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex, anal, oral (both receiving), riding, humping, teasing, touching, masturbation, blowjob, marks, biting, choke kink, they'll have sex covered in blood.

wc : 9.025

synopsis : Hyunjin's a photographer and meets reader at his own exhibition. He falls in love with her beauty and the way she talks about art, so he proposes to her to attend his sculpture classes and then, after some of them, to be his model for a nude photography project, which will lead them to have sex. One day, she arrives before the appointment and begins to explore his study, finding a cupboard where he keeps all the heads of the girls he has seduced before her. But she's not afraid, she's excited. After a few minutes he shows up, catching her in the moment and she tells him her little dark secret, so they set up a murder and then fuck in the bloody mess.

a/n : hii... that's the first time for me writing here and writing in English so PLS im sorry if there are some errors!! I hope u enjoy this anyway 🎀🎀 I opened a ko-fi account, i will post there some stories and drawings, if you want to support me i will be grateful to anyone who wants to give me tips, ITS NOT OBLIGATORY

MASTERLIST

[ SMUT / TW ]

You have always been an art lover, which has led you to visit many exhibitions over the years. Photography and sculpture were your favourite subjects, and you have lost count of the number of exhibitions you have visited in your lifetime. However, it was a bit of a contradiction that art was not what you studied. You were a student of anatomy at university, which of course helped you to understand the human forms you so admired and loved to create. Although your studies were far from your true passion, you couldn't help but attend the private lessons that were often advertised in flyers around the city. That year alone, you attended no less than five classes, loving the way your hands shaped the clay beneath them. Its softness, the way it escaped your touch when wet: it was smooth, soft, elusive and malleable. Almost unpredictable, one might add. Once, because of a few air bubbles, you had to redo your work because it had burst in the kiln. Yes, one of the great faults of clay was its ability to burst if it was not perfectly formed. You were like clay, unpredictable. But you also loved the unpredictability of a photograph, the immediacy of a shot. The reality it represented. It was no coincidence that these were your favourite subjects.

You were walking around, sipping your caramel milkshake, after a long and tiring day at university. The music was on your mind, you imagined yourself in the scenarios that the soundtrack was transporting through your ears, but nothing could have distracted you from the sight of a giant billboard announcing a photography exhibition that weekend: The Art of the Body. This particular billboard had caught your attention not only because of the type of photography on display - nude exhibitions were rare in your town these days, too much of a scandal for the citizens. You were different, you appreciated every single muscle, every single feature of the human body. - But also for the way in which that body, unclothed, had been immortalised. Enclosed in a net that did not completely cover it, the woman's features were fully visible; she looked almost like a sculpture because of the contrast between light and dark.

You were enraptured by the image, your thoughts had clouded your mind, you had barely paid attention to the name of the photographer who was going to present this exhibition. But you didn't care, the subject matter was already of great interest to you. Nude photography by those who could not understand or feel it was considered almost scandalous. You found it a contradiction because very often the same people who criticised this kind of photography were the first to admire sculptures of the calibre and genre of Michelangelo's David, who, by the way, was naked.

For you, this kind of photograph was just like a sculpture. But warm, soft, even more real and expressive. You were sure that you would love that kind.

When you got back to your flat, the first thing you did was take a shower. It was the most plausible option after a long and tiring day, not least because you would have to clean up the mess left in your kitchen. In fact, by the time you found yourself having to clean it up, you were starting to get bored, so television would have been a good idea for entertainment at a time when all you wanted to do was sleep. You watched the news, and once again the topic of the day was the countless missing girls in your area. You wondered what was going on and why so many girls had mysteriously disappeared in a matter of days. There were no traces of mysterious serial killers, or even traces and statements from the victims themselves, if there were any. They had not been seen with anyone, nor had anyone talked about them. They had nothing in common. Or at least the police had not been good enough to find out. Well, in fact, the police had failed miserably from the start with the story of these girls' disappearance.

After all, there were no traces of the girls, and you had to clean up quickly because of the stench that was starting to fill the room.

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡

Finally, the long-awaited day of the exhibition had arrived, and you were excited just to think that you would be able to see such works live, even more so if they were all close to the one on the poster that had caught your eye. You were well dressed for the occasion, you wanted to make yourself presentable. You were also excited to meet the artist. You hadn't read the name, you weren't even interested in meeting him, but as the days went by, your curiosity grew and you did some research to find out who the man was: he was a young man - well, very young - his name was Hwang Hyunjin, a photographer and professor of sculpture. You were very interested in that because those were your two favourite subjects. So you had to admit that you had made yourself beautiful in order to look like that in the eyes of such a man. Also because you had seen pictures of him on some magazine covers and on the Internet, and you had noticed that he was indeed a handsome man. Maybe even more than handsome. He himself seemed to be part of a collection of sculptures.

His features were delicate but masculine, his body seemed well proportioned and he was tall and lean. He had dark, feline eyes and lips that were sure to drive all the women who had ever met him crazy.

You took one last look at yourself in the mirror and, after spraying on your ever-present perfume, you left the house, heading for the exhibition. It was Saturday night, the streets of your city were crowded, kids ready to go to some club, men with wives were ready to go to dinner. Saturday night chaos was, as always, inevitable.

You found yourself having to turn down your best friend's invitation to some club just to go to this exhibition. But she understood, she knew how much you loved art and you hadn't missed a single one of these exhibitions that came to your town every year. It was true, you had never missed one. Once you even got a cold and covered yourself well with a huge scarf and a heavy coat. Unlike the way you were dressed today. A tight black dress that stopped at mid-thigh, a long black coat, your beloved lace-up boots and a chignon that gathered your hair delicately. You were truly charming.

When you arrived at the exhibition, you immediately took a glass of red wine that was offered to every visitor. You were enchanted by the splendour that surrounded you. Photographs of all kinds: coloured, black and white, bodies covered in nets, naked bodies, bodies covered in liquids - water, blood - lying in the soil , all one with nature. But the photograph that struck you the most was of a body whose head could not be seen and it was crushed below the knees, while a long stream of blood was falling on it. It was strange, the photo was in white and black, well contrasted, sharp, but the blood had not lost its colour: warm red, carmine. You could feel its density, its fluidity, through the photograph. It had given you goosebumps.

A warm, but not too deep voice distracted you from your thoughts.

«This painting is called Passion's Flood.»

You turned to see the boy you had been searching for, for the past two days, and your mouth almost fell open.

His beauty was even more ethereal in person. The complexion of his skin was almost golden, and those eyes seemed to bore into you. The articles were not wrong, this was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. He was elegant, refined, attractive. You didn't even know what adjective to use to describe him, to do justice to such beauty. You were so dazzled that you almost forgot everything you wanted to say to this man.

«Why this name? More to the point, why the adjective 'passion'?» you said as soon as you awoke from your almost trance-like state. The words slipped from your tongue, as did your curiosity as to the real reason for this choice.

It was strange to hear that such an image had been given such a name. You were curious about the definition of 'passion' for this man. Why it was associated with the image of blood. That rich red liquid dripping onto a naked body, accentuating the shape of the woman portrayed. This made the man behind you smile. He approached you and studied you carefully. He examined you from top to bottom. From head to toe. It was inevitable that he would find you a beautiful, attractive, girl. He bit his lower lip and glanced at the work in front of you, then shifted his gaze back to the subject of his interest: you.

«Interesting question, I see you also pay a lot of attention to the names of the works.» your eyes were fixed on his lips, watching them move at the sound of his voice. How he licked them and made them shine. Perfectly swollen and red. Watching him had become more interesting than watching his work. «Inevitably, the intrinsic meaning of the work itself could be understood from the name, but it is interesting how you used the adjective 'passion' to describe a body covered in blood. The work itself is interesting, it is rare to see something like this in an exhibition. You have a fascinating mind, Mr. Hwang.»

This only inflated the ego of the man at your side, who wasted no time in positioning himself in front of his own work. He flashed a smug, satisfied smile, interested in how your mind was working at that moment. He could not stop the instinct, the primal instinct, that inevitably drew him to you. He licked his lips for the umpteenth time and crossed his arms over his chest, allowing the fabric of the jacket he was wearing to fit better over the obviously defined muscles. «Call me by my name. I don't think there's much of an age difference. In any case, the definition of 'Passion Flood' in this case refers to the fact that passion can flare up in any way, at any time. The association with blood is not only because it automatically brings to mind a warm colour, such as bright red, but also because passion flows in our veins, in our blood. The blood itself evokes the heat, the impact, the sensation that passion can give us. A unique adrenaline rush. For few.» you were enchanted by the way his mind worked, the man was a genius.

Not only was he good at shootings, but the way he spoke to you, the tone of his voice, was like a mermaid to a sailor. He would lure you out to sea and then grab you by the tail. His piercing gaze was as if he wanted to trap you and drag you down with him.

«Your definition of passion is interesting, Hyunjin. I can also say that this definition fits perfectly with the way you create your works. If I may say so, this photograph is extraordinary, perhaps one of the best in this exhibition so far. After all, passion is what you do. Photography is in your blood, it is your passion. Art itself, right? Looking at this photograph, I can see the body of the liquid, the vivid colour and the contrast with the chiaroscuro of the body. I can see the softness of the flesh, its silkiness.» When you stopped talking, the man in front of you licked his lips, pleasantly pleased with what your mind could conceive in terms of art.

«Your mind fascinates me, ...?» he paused, clearly inviting you to tell him your name. You felt the blood boiling in your veins, a heat permeating your body. As if him had set it on fire. «Y/N,» you whispered, once again entranced by his beauty. You were sure he had bewitched you somehow. His charm was beyond anything else. Hwang Hyunjin was not just an artist, he was art itself.

«Do you also work in the field of art?» he asked, moving dangerously close to your body. Your mind went blank, he was far too close. You could not say a word. He was like a magnet, the closer he came, the closer you wanted to be. It was crazy how a man could have such an effect on you, who had always declared yourself a woman who would not be intimidated or subjugated by men. But with Hwang Hyunjin it was different. You were under his spell and would let him do anything to you just to feel him near you.

«I take anatomy classes, but in my spare time I take classes in photography and sculpture. Let's say they are my biggest passions», you could see his eyes light up when you said this. That was his moment. Hyunjin could not fail to use this moment to invite you to one of his classes. Yes, among the thousands of things Hwang did, there were also private lessons in sculpture and photography. And you could not help but be delighted, your heart almost leaping out of your chest. The one and only, the magnetic Hwang Hyunjin had personally asked you to join his sculpture class.

As he walked towards you, your bodies colliding, you found yourself squeezing your legs together, you felt a jolt penetrate your intimacy. His lips came to your earlobe and caressed it, «I expect to see you there, Y/N».

Needless to say, when you left that night, all you could think about was Hyunjin's pointed hands running over your body.

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡

It had been a really tough week at university, you had to dissect several bodies and your placement was about to start. You were going to be a trainee in a forensic laboratory, so your lectures were now harder and the level of attention they demanded was higher. However, the thought of attending evening classes that Friday, taught by Hyunjin - the man who had been on your mind for the past week - helped you relax.

Your best friend was aware of the little fixation you had developed with the man and often used it to tease you. When you told her you were going to meet him in class that evening, she made so many dirty jokes that you wondered if it was still her. But other girls had disappeared in those days and she didn't want you to be one of them. So she was worried. As you prepared to go to class, she had given you more advice than your mother had given you in your entire life. In fact, you felt like a daughter, a little girl to her. It was obvious that you would be careful, you wanted to return home safely.

So you prepared and made yourself beautiful, just to impress the man of your thoughts, and then you left the house, leaving a trail of fruity perfume behind you. That evening, even though the occasion was nothing more than a sculpture class, you had dressed well. You had on a light sweater that left a strip of your belly uncovered, burgundy with vertical stripes of fabric. Loose, baggy jeans below your navel and flats that matched the colour of your shirt. But the breeze that had risen that evening had forced you to put on your beloved leather jacket.

Your hair was loose, falling over your shoulders as one hand held the strap of the bag tightly. You were eager to see how Hyunjin taught during his lessons, eager to see those hands you dreamed of every night on you, running over the fresh clay, shaping it, imagining it to be your body. You were curious to see what this evening would bring, whether it would be as interesting as you thought it would be, or whether it would be a total disappointment.

Arriving at the location indicated on the flyer Hyunjin had given you, your eyes met the moment you crossed the threshold of the hall. He stood out like a marble statue, his hair tied back in a ponytail, a black t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up and baggy jeans covering a pair of brown and white Nikes on his feet. The piercing in his eyebrow made his gaze at you even more captivating. You entered, bowed and took your seat. They weren't all taken yet, surely he hadn't started because he was expecting a few more people to attend the class.

Behind him were blocks of clay and a table with all sorts of tools and materials for modelling. You assumed that he would be distributing these materials to the students himself, and were not at all surprised to find that most of them were women who were just as interested in the art as they were in the man who was going to teach it to them.

Your gazes were chained as if nothing could break it, it was only interrupted when Hyunjin realised that the hall was now full and it was time to start the lesson. He stood in the middle of the hall with a smile on his face, he was really handsome. He managed to be delicate and attractive at the same time. You were sure that this boy would not be easy to get out of your mind. It was clear that you wanted him more than you thought. «Welcome everyone, this is the first lesson of this course where we will cover the basics and modelling with clay. I have some tools here with me, after I give you a general introduction to the subject, I will hand them out to all of you, along with a lump of clay, so that we can begin the actual course.»

Needless to say, you lost focus after his introduction, too focused on watching his lips move and the vein in his neck throb. You watched his movements carefully, the way the fabric of his shirt occasionally allowed a glimpse of the hollow of his v-zone, the way the material of his jeans clung perfectly to his slender thighs. The man was a dream, and yet he looked like a demon disguised as an angel. His elegant, almost princely movements had managed to hypnotise you. You felt your body go numb and shot through with a long series of electric shocks, all of which landed in your stomach. The sexual tension you felt when standing next to Hyunjin was now sky-high.

It was Hyunjin himself who distracted you from your unchaste thoughts about him. He placed a series of objects on your bench and winked and smiled at you. That made you glow red, and not just on your cheeks. You felt a pleasant warmth spreading through your body and you weren't sure what it would lead to. Certainly nothing good in the state you were in now. «Good to see you here, Y/N.» he whispered in your ear, making you blush again. You lost your words.

As Hyunjin took his place behind a table with all the materials needed to mould the clay, it was fascinating to watch how his wet hands began to caress the block, softening it. Kneading, massaging the malleable material. But the thing that took your breath away again was the way his eyes locked on you as he spoke. As he explained how to handle the clay, as he squeezed it, as he moulded it in his hands, his gaze was fixed on you. You squeezed your legs together, and you were sure he noticed because of the smirk in his eyes. This made you even more embarrassed.

You watched as his tapered fingers created shapes, sweeping over the material, smeared with clay, to shape it to his liking. You wished you were that lump of clay. You wished he would touch you the way he did with that slippery material.

As you began to shape the clay yourself, you hardly thought about Hyunjin's fingers caressing you as you wished. Your mind was lost in the farthest reaches of your thoughts as you concentrated on shaping the lump. You hadn't even noticed Hyunjin watching your hands move as you did with his. His gaze devoured your body and hinted at what was going on in his mind. He was curious how those skilful hands would move around his member. It made him quite aroused, but he could not afford to have an erection in the middle of class by having unchaste thoughts about you.

As the classroom began to empty, the teacher greeted everyone politely and took the opportunity to approach you, who had not noticed anything, still lost in your world and the little statue you were forging. He positioned himself behind you as soon as the last student had left the room, and began to stroke your arms and blow on your neck. It was what brought your head back down to earth. You bit your lower lip as his hands moulded the clay with yours and his warm body clung to yours.

You found yourself gasping as his lips touched your lobe again. This boy would be the end of you, you were sure of it.

«You know, I noticed how your legs tightened at the sound of my voice. I also noticed your eyes burning into my form as I gave this lecture. I'm very curious to know what fantasies are running through your head, little Y/N,» he giggled, then washed his hands in the next sink and invited you to join him. And once again you were hypnotised, enchanted by his voice and his touch. When he took you by the hips, placed you on the only clean counter and spread your legs, you couldn't help but gasp. Words were dead in your throat now, you looked at him with bated breath and all you wanted to do was sink his face between your thighs. «Look what we have here, - he said, stroking your intimacy from above the fabric of your jeans, which he could feel were already wet, - there's no need for you to hide now. I got you,» he whispered again against your neck.

«Hyunjin... Please,» you murmured, your thoughts now clouded by the pleasure of his touch. «What? Tell me what you want,» he taunted you again. Your hand moved to his wrist and pushed it towards the crotch of your jeans. That drove him crazier than you thought.

He unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them down to your knees, his gaze resting on the crotch of your now wet panties. You felt no shame, the only thing running through your body now was the adrenaline of being fucked by this man. Your rational part had been switched off by the only one part that had to take over. «Look at you, I haven't even touched you properly and you're already all wet, you little whore. For now you'll be satisfied with what I'm going to give you tonight, if you're good enough you'll get another prize after this one,» your head had fallen back and your back was now arched. It was only with his words that he had been able to bring you to this state. Giggling, he moved the fabric of your panties with two fingers, the same ones that slowly began to massage your walls, while his eyes carefully scanned every corner of your body. You were going crazy, you wanted more and your grip on his wrist let him know it. «Look at you, so needy for my touch. I have a crazy idea that you can't refuse. I need this favour. No one inspires me, attracts me like you do. Be my muse and let me photograph this beautiful, unclothed body,» he whispered into your ear, pushing his fingers further between your pussy lips.

He did not penetrate you, but you were sure that only with this type of touch you could come. You nodded, reeling from the spell he had cast on you, and he smiled, pleased at the state you were in. He moved closer to you, not a kiss, just a bite on your lower lip and one in the hollow of your neck. Which made you quite dizzy with the sensation of his fingers now moving in a circular motion over your intimacy.

«Very good, Princess. Now why don't you cum for me? Like a good girl,» he whispered and began to move his fingers at a speed you didn't think possible. But your mind was clouded and you needed to feel under your hands how much he needed your touch too, so with a grin you grabbed the crotch of his trousers and began to move your hand up and down, feeling how great his length was. But there was no pleasure in doing this from above his jeans, so you inserted your hand into the fabric and with quick movements began to masturbate his intimacy. His moans were satisfying and made your head spin, you were almost in the same state. He growled, moving quickly on your vagina as you did with his member, now a moaning mess, playing with the tip of his member, stimulating it.

It was obvious that after a few minutes you would cum in each other's hands with a loud orgasm, and you did. You screamed her name as her teeth sank into the hollow of your neck, biting it. «I have no class on Tuesday, come here, to this address, my long awaited project will finally come to life,» he whispered in your ear as he licked his fingers covered in your juices, just as you licked yours, soiled with his.

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡

To say that you had been thinking about what had happened with Hyunjin all weekend was an understatement. The boy hadn't left your mind for a second, nor had the feeling of his fingers over your intimacy. You were constantly thinking about what you had done and the desire to go deeper was alive and growing inside you. It was obvious that you wanted to be fucked by him, so much so that you almost forgot your own name. When Hyunjin was in front of you, all rational thought went out the window. When he had asked you to be his muse, a warmth had grown in your chest and spread between your legs. You couldn't wait to pose naked for him. To let his hands move your body as he wished. Even at that moment, his hands were touching you in your mind, as you rubbed against the pillow in your room, with another news report of a missing girl in the background. But your mind was too busy thinking about Hyunjin to listen to how this girl, unlike the others, you had actually seen in the course of sculpting that the man you dreamed of every night was taking.

When you reached your orgasm, certainly not like you did with Hyunjin's hand, you decided it was the best to take a shower. The next day was the big day you had been looking forward to. You were going crazy. Your best friend had called you to find out the details, but you still hadn't told her what had happened between you and Hyunjin, you would when you maybe had sex fully. Also because that was what you had hoped for most. To hear how he wanted to fuck you. You giggled to hear how she imagined possible scenarios for your encounter, if only she knew how far you had already gone.

When the time and day finally came for you to meet Hyunjin for 'his long awaited project', you couldn't help but feel the shivers running through your body. You wore your hair in a slightly dishevelled bun, a tight black skirt covering you to mid-thigh and a slightly unbuttoned blouse with a burgundy lace-embroidered bra wrapped around your torso. Black boots on your feet and the usual leather jacket over your shoulders.

You gasped as Hyunjin's slim and elegant figure appeared behind you. He was wearing a blue silk shirt that showed his chest, tight black jeans and pointed ankle boots of the same colour. Sunglasses and a necklace surrounded the beauty already present in the man, and the loose hair falling down his neck made him even more attractive in your eyes.

His gaze gave you goosebumps; he approached you with an almost devilish smile and greeted you with a kiss on the lips. At that moment, you felt the ground give away beneath your feet. You looked at him as, smirking at the way he was making you feel, he opened the studio door and let you in first like a gentleman. «I see you've made yourself pretty for me, little Y/N. I like the way you're dressed, that bra fits you like a glove, it's a shame we have to take it off,» he whispered as he slowly removed your leather jacket and put his glasses elsewhere. His voice guided you, sending shivers down your spine. You noticed that all the materials he needed were already arranged in every corner of the studio and understood that he didn't want to waste any time in arranging what he needed. Kissing your neck, he began to remove your shirt, gently running his fingers down your arms and then your torso, then removing your bra as well, cupping your tits with his hands and massaging them, causing you to give a moan of pleasure that made you throw your head over one of his shoulders. «They are perfect, they have a wonderful texture, a perfect shape to be cupped by my hands,» he blew on your shoulder, biting it almost violently. But this action only made you moan even more.

Slowly he began to move his hands down, caressing the rest of your body, making you gasp as he pulled off your skirt and then slowly your panties. You were completely naked to his eyes this time. He bit his lip as he caressed every part of your body, from your breasts to your bottom, cupping and massaging one of your buttocks. «Like a good little girl, take off your shoes and lie down on this wooden hoop,» he said, and you obeyed. Without a word. You felt his eyes burning on you, like fire. You lay down in front of him and let him touch you in any way that would satisfy his desires. When he grabbed the camera, you squeezed your legs together, already feeling the effect of his intense gaze on you.

It made him laugh, but not in amusement. Not at all. It was almost diabolical. You saw how he approached you by getting on top of you and opening your legs, he began to watch how your pussy shrank around nothing, completely wet. This made him move his nose closer to it and blow on it. It had driven you so crazy that you not only let out a long moan, but arched your back so that your vagina was closer to his nose. And he grinned as he slipped two fingers inside you without warning, taking a picture just as your back arched again, your head fell back and your lips parted in a moan. « Very good baby, you are the perfect muse for this project. No one could have done as well as you,» he whispered as he pulled his fingers out from inside you and brought them to his lips, sucking away your juices.

You went crazy, your body was burning even though you were naked, craving his touch, his hands on you. Every time he approached to take your picture, you hoped he would touch you, something more than mere caresses. Even if they were not 'mere caresses'.

But when he put down his camera and caught up with you at a fast pace, you realised that maybe he didn't just want to take pictures. And in the end, that was what you were hoping for. He towered over you with his body, observing how perfect yours was. He caressed every part of you until he lowered himself to your lips and began a ravenous, passionate kiss. You moaned at the contact and his hands began to massage your breasts until, running out of air, he pulled away from your lips and then lowered himself to your breasts and sucked on them voraciously. Your head was elsewhere, you could do nothing but give way to his touch. Your hands were harpooned in his hair, pulling at it. Your legs tightened around his torso as his pelvis moved in search of yours. Hyunjin was mad. He could feel the blood boiling in his veins; he needed to release all the adrenaline coursing through his veins. «My bitch, that's what you are. Just fucking mine. And like a good girl you are going to feed me now,» he smiled almost maniacally as his face settled between your thighs. He had taken off his shirt and unbuttoned his jeans, which were now too tight to contain his obvious erection. You clutched his hair as he began to bite your inner thigh, leaving bite marks and bruises everywhere. But you didn't care, you just wanted to feel him between your legs.

Hyunjin began to take long laps on your cunt, spreading it with his fingers so that he could better slide his tongue between your walls. You were a whimpering mess, all too pleasurable. He sucked and moved his tongue voraciously, as if he really wanted to eat you. He pulled at the lips covering your clit with his teeth and then sucked on them almost violently. You felt your orgasm approaching, but you didn't want to come like that, you wanted him to fuck you. «Please Hyunjin...mh...stop...it's too much, I'm about to come...!» you gripped his hair in a vice grip. But that did not matter to him, if it meant making you cum several times in one evening, he would do it without fail.

His mouth was harpooned between your walls, his tongue moving as if he were kissing you and not what was between your legs. You were going out of your mind and the closer you came to orgasm the more he felt it and went fast. «Fuck Hyunjin!» you shouted before cumming all over his face. Which pleased him by the way. He licked his lips and without a second thought started to kiss you again, so much so that you could feel yourself on his tongue. But that was not enough, he wanted you. «I'm going to fuck you so hard you have no idea. Now behave as well as you have so far and suck me off,» he said as he removed the last of his clothes. Your eyes couldn't help but stare at his erection, certainly getting him all the way in your mouth would have been quite a challenge. You watched him ravenously, having dreamed of this moment for far too long. You began to slowly run your hand down the length of him, massaging his balls as well, you were slow, running your fingers along the veins and playing with his head. He looked exhausted to see you like that. His moans became louder. You smiled and took him in your mouth, all the way to his uvula. This made him tighten his grip on your hair, which was clenched in his hands. He pulled hard on them as he fucked your mouth. Your hands were tight on his thighs as you slid it over your tongue. You spit on the tip, then took it back into your mouth and ran your tongue along every vein. Concentrating especially on the tip. «You are fucking phenomenal. My good whore, keep it up, faster,» he said in a broken voice as he used his pelvis to push against your mouth.

It did not take many more thrusts before it poured into your mouth in hot streams. You stared at him intently as you swallowed the liquid. With a grin, now his umpteenth, he ran his thumb between your lips, cleaning them of his own seed and attacking them with an almost violent kiss. It was so quick that you didn't even notice when he slipped two fingers inside you and began to move them quickly as his member became erect again. Seeing you under him like that drove him crazy and he couldn't wait to fuck you the way he wanted to. He wrapped one hand around your neck, making you moan. You didn't know that these things could ever turn you on, but with Hyunjin, with his hands on your body, it was impossible not to. Soon his fingers became four inside you, and the way he twisted them inside you made you think he already knew what your walls looked like.

It was unexpected for you when you were turned over and positioned on all fours with him standing behind you, erupting like one of your many beloved sculptures. He rubbed his erect member against your entrance, making you shiver as only he could. «God, I can't wait to fuck you, if only you could see the way your butthole is clenching around nothing as I rub against you,» he grinned. But you could feel it, you could feel it all right. «P...lease put it in, I need it Hyunjin mmm - make it quick please, fuck m...e» by now you were beside yourself. Your brain was disconnected.

You heard him laugh, pleased that you felt so weak under his touch. But you couldn't help it; it was as if he had cast a spell on you.

Without a word, he thrust into you in one swift motion. You let out a moan, just as he had. He pushed your back down so that your face touched the floor. You were a fire, you felt your body burning and you just wanted more, more and more. «Fuck,» he shouted. He had your hair in his grip as he squeezed your buttocks and began to thrust into you. You felt the floor turn and collapse beneath your body. You felt full and also heard the sounds Hyunjin made. He growled as he thrust into you with dry, precise strokes. «You're so fucking tight and hot. I could come right now,» he growled thunderously. You couldn't answer, too busy enjoying the feel of his dick inside you. But you needed to feel him deeper, you wanted to feel all of him.

You moved your pelvis closer to his, driving him crazy, he bit his lip while you were a moaning mess, doing nothing but mumbling unrelated words to each other. You were going crazy, you wanted to feel him burning inside you, between your walls. «Fuck, yes, shit!» you heard him say as he held your pelvis tightly against his. The strokes were faster, you felt his cock touching your sensitive spot, stimulating it. You were sure it would not be long before you came. He pulled your hair hard towards him and with the hand holding your pelvis he began to push your body against his own, as if you were standing up. He tightened his free hand around your neck and you moaned at the lack of air.

«Plea...se Hyunjin... harder... faster... fuck the...re...» you said incoherently as he bit your neck, leaving an obvious signal. «Shut up, I decide.»

He whispered in your ear, then increased his thrusts. He forced you back onto the cold wood and you felt his body crush yours as he squeezed your neck and thrust into you at a relentless pace. It was impossible at this point not to let out a loud, high-pitched moan along with your humours.

«Very good, Princess. Now make me come, like a good girl,» he said, overstimulating you, by this time you had reached your limit, your body was weak. But the sound of his thrusts drove you even crazier. After a few final thrusts, you toothed in the hot, sticky fluid that filled your hole. You moaned along with him, riding out his orgasm as his seed dripped from your thighs. He growled and let go of you, kissing your shoulder.

You never expected him to clean you up by putting his tongue between your buttocks and licking away his own cum. This made you moan at his touch, causing him to giggle, which made his tongue vibrate inside your hole.

As he stood up and began to clean it up, including you, he leaned towards your face and blew on your lips, leaving a slow, passionate kiss. «I want you here this Friday, Y/N.»

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡

Days later, you were still thinking about the way Hyunjin had fucked you so well in the photo room. You couldn't get it out of your head. Even when you found yourself cleaning up the huge stinking mess you had made. That day you had made more of a mess than usual, you had to be more careful the next time.

When you had finished cleaning up the mess, you decided it would be better for you to eat: you had to cook lunch. The next day you were to meet the man who had been in your thoughts for two weeks. You couldn't think of anything else. Hyunjin really seemed to have cast a strange spell on you. But you didn't mind. Just like it hadn't bothered you to feel that his body was completely connected to yours.

After a quiet lunch you decided it would be best to organise your tools and materials, after this morning they were all in a mess and you hated mess. You had even left them out of storage the last time. So you stood patiently in front of your cupboard, arranging the duffel bag that you jealously guarded. Meanwhile, you wondered why the police still hadn't found anything about the girls. The number had increased enormously, and whoever was making them disappear had to be an expert to get away with it without leaving any evidence. You'd like to ask yourself who would ever be able to go unnoticed for almost twenty days while the police still hadn't found anything. After tidying up the mess you had made, you decided that it might be best to think about what to wear to meet Hyunjin tomorrow. You were extremely impatient.

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡

And there you were, in front of the usual studio. Where Hyunjin had arranged to meet you. You had dressed up, a black over the knee coat, your usual leather jacket, black boots and this time your long hair was over your shoulders. However, you noticed that the studio door was already open; maybe Hyunjin was already inside, just waiting for your arrival. You bit your lip, unsure what to do.

What would be wrong with going in?

So you did, but no one was there.

«Hyunjin?» you called, hoping that the man would appear before you. But curiosity got the better of you and you started walking around the studio, which was large but not too crowded. There were scattered tools, pieces of clay and photographic paper. But there was one thing that caught your eye. The door to a small room was half open, and from it came a strong smell that you knew too well. You were used to the smell. But you wondered why it was coming from the cupboard in Hyunjin's study and why you had never smelled it before, since you had been there twice before. So you went to the door, opened it and put your hand to your mouth.

You had just found the culprit behind the disappearance of so many girls in your town.

There were so many heads arranged in rows on tables, the blood had been cleaned off, but the skin looked intact, as if it had not decomposed. They looked like so many porcelain dolls. You started to get closer when you felt a presence behind you and your breath caught in your throat. «Someone found something they weren't supposed to see, don't you think, Princess?» you turned around so slowly that when you saw him covered in blood, an electric shock almost ran through your entire body.

But you were not afraid; your curiosity had overcome your fear.

«How did you make them so porcelain-like and not get caught?» you whispered as his body clung to yours, crushed against the wall. He chuckled, trying to see an edge of fear in your face. He was surprised to find none. That made you even more special and unique in his eyes. No one had ever been like you before. «Aren't you afraid? Ask me how I made them like this instead of running away and reporting me to the police,» he laughed. But you smiled, grabbed his hair and brought his face closer to yours. Lips on lips. «I'm not afraid. In fact, I'm curious. You made them look like so many disembodied dolls. Where did you throw their bodies without getting caught? It takes talent,» the answer made his eyes sparkle.

You were definitely different.

He grabbed you by the neck and tightened his grip. But you weren't afraid, you were sure he wouldn't hurt you. He was just angry because you made him feel different. Because it was you. You made him want you more than anything.

He slipped a hand under your dress, felt how wet the crotch of your panties was.

You giggled.

«You are different. You are not afraid. You're turned on by all of this, you sick little whore,» you laughed. At the top of your lungs. You pulled him closer with one leg and rubbed your pelvis against him, moaning. «I may have a dark little secret of my own, my dear Hyunjin. How about we take advantage of it?» you bit his lip. His head was spinning, he felt his hands burning. «First tell me about this dark little secret you little bitch,» you pressed your bodies together and felt yours almost catching fire, you wanted it. Again. At least you wanted him to make you come.

«Haven't you ever wondered why I take anatomy lessons when my passion is something else?» you giggled, leaving him confused. You were like him. «I love dissecting corpses even more when they are fresh and made by me, squeezing organs in my hands, and I would love to see them intact forever. Why don't you tell me your little secret? How do you make those heads like that?» you moaned under his touch, quickly rubbing your cunt against his thigh, wetting it. «You're fucking crazy,» he laughed maniacally and then began a fierce kiss, as if your bodies were about to catch fire. You continued to move on his thigh, moaning his name on your lips as you jerked him off over his trousers. All this was turning you on more than you thought. Your breath was short, you couldn't hold back any longer, so you let out a long moan, you on his leg and him in his trousers. It was fast but intense.

«How about cooperating, princess?» he laughed, still above you. «With great pleasure,» you whispered growling into his mouth.

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡

After that day, you invited Hyunjin to your house and showed him your collection. It was funny to see his surprised face. He never expected to see that side of you. That day, you orchestrated the perfect plan. Your victims had rarely been women, and his were all women. He also explained to you how he chose his victims, his modus operandi : he often went to this café frequented by students, and often heard these girls squawking like chickens and insulting art, a thing he revered. So did the woman's body. So why not get rid of them after seducing them and keep the body as a prize? It was a perfect idea in his mind. So he decided to prove it to you himself.

You stood at the table behind him and a certain Sasha, he had met her that morning when he brought you your coffee and decided that she would be the ideal victim. You watched as he tried to seduce her with a grin, running his hand down her back to her bottom. You bit your lip, a little jealous of the touch he was reserving for her.

When they got up, you followed them silently, already knowing where Hyunjin was taking her: at the back of his study was a large chamber where he carried out his murders and burned the remaining bodies: the clay oven, a very good idea, you thought.

Everything happened very quickly, the way he undressed her and she undressed him. You trembled. You hated to see the way the girl touched him. He was almost ready to fuck her when, with a wink, he moved you forward and handcuffed the girl's hands and feet. But she screamed in vain, the walls were soundproofed, Hyunjin really had thought of everything.

He took off your clothes, stroking your body, and put them aside with his own so they wouldn't get dirty. After all, it was impossible to remove blood stains from the fabrics. He bit your shoulder and patted your ass, then stood statuesque in front of the girl. You watched closely as he slit her throat with a sharp knife, splashing blood everywhere. And you flanked him as he opened her chest and began to harvest the organs that he would soon show you how to embalm. You loved it.

Soon a pool of blood spread beneath your bodies. You sat on his naked pelvis, as bloodied as he was. He brought the knife between your mouths and you did not hesitate a moment before licking the blood off the metal, crossing your tongue with Hyunjin's. His vermilion hands cupped your breasts, your thighs. Your body. You were the woman he adored. His muse. The half he shared his madness with. His illness. Your mouths met, you drew your lips together, biting your tongues. It was a fierce, ravenous, passionate kiss. Your intimacy rubbed against your naked pussy, wet and warm. You couldn't wait to fuck him. He bit your neck ravenously. As if he wanted to eat you. You loved the way he was so impetuous with you, so passionate. He drove you crazy. «How about we play a little princess?» he grinned, then put two fingers to your vagina and began to move them quickly. Your moans were disconnected and his lips were tight on your breasts, sucking on your nipples and pulling on them with his teeth. Your hands were harpooned in your hair, pulling at it. You definitely wanted more.

He entered you slowly, playing with your walls. As he licked the blood from your body. «Mhh, Hyunjin faster please,» you begged him, pressing your pelvis against his. You wanted more, you wanted him inside you. Your hand reached his intimacy and began to play with his glans, pressing your thumb on the tip so that he moaned. You loved seeing him like that under your touch, even more so when he was completely covered in blood. His hand reached your neck as you decided his fingers were not enough to satisfy you and stood up, sitting straight on his cock. This caused him to moan sharply. «Have a good ride, Hyunjinie,» you whispered in his ear. And he grinned. He took his fingers, smeared with blood and your fluids, into his mouth to lick it all off and then push it into your mouth, playing with your tongue as your walls adjusted to his thick length. You pulled your head back as he tired of waiting and gave a precise thrust inside you, gripping your neck tightly. You loved it when he did this. You began to jump up and down on his length, letting out moans that fortunately no one could hear thanks to the soundproof walls. Hyunjin bit his lip hard as you humped him. He loved the feeling of watching you riding him. He felt a unique warmth running through his body.

But he was tired; speed and strength were not enough for him. He made you lie down in that pool of blood, put his hands under your knees and bent your legs towards your breasts. He entered you with a precise thrust, as if he knew just the right spot to hit you, and your loud moaning let him know that was exactly where he needed to thrust. So with almost animal speed he resumed his thrusts inside you. He put your legs on his shoulders while he held your neck tightly with one hand and played with your clit quickly with the other. It drove you crazy. Your moans were now as uncontrollable as the times Hyunjin had cried out in pleasure. «Fuck Princess, how good you take me. Your pussy is perfect for me, so ,warm. You fucking hold me so well, you little whore,» he growled. You couldn't help but moan loudly at those words. You couldn't speak, every time you tried to say something the words died in your throat.

«I'm... coming... fucking H... Hyunjin for fuck's sake! Ther...e yeah!» you moaned one last time before tightening your warm walls around his cock. «Fuck I'm about to come too, squeeze me so fucking tight.» And he, now at the top of his lungs, poured hot streams into you, filling you. But he didn't come out; he decided to tear himself all over you as he filled you, letting his cum drip out of your cunt.

You stroked his long wet hair as he kissed your breasts. «You are mine forever, just know that,» he whispered, biting you. You giggled. «I wasn't planning on looking for anyone else after you, Hyunjin,» he smiled, then looked at you and licked a drop of blood that had fallen from your shoulder.

«I like you covered in blood.»

TAGLIST 🎀 : @gloomy-k @raindropsondragons @linocvp1d @iiamthedramaa @snowyquokka @pynchkilledme @y4kie @ihrtlix @sugarsweetsugarsweet @rylea08 @skzswife @hyunjinhoexxx @hyunjinnie2000 @boi-bi-ahaha @nanamongmong @yongbokkiesworld @hyunjinnnsgirl @reader1221

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[eldritch-nightmare]

do the others know about you?

synopsis: you're just a human dating someone that's... well. you can certainly never introduce them to your friends or family. but do their friends/companions know about you?

a/n: is it a good idea to include every single creepypasta i can think of from the top of my head... no. will i do it anyway? yes, i will. anyways this right here is my pride and joy. i enjoyed writing it, and i'm proud of it, so i hope you guys enjoy it as well.

warnings: possessive behavior in a few, yandere behavior in a few, spoiler alert alex almost kills you but dw there's no character death here.

includes: jeff the killer, eyeless jack, jane the killer [richardson + arkensaw], laughing jack, slenderman, nina the killer, the bloody painter, the puppeteer, clockwork, jason the toymaker, hobo heart, nurse ann, zalgo, x-virus, homicidal liu, ticci toby, tim wright, brian thomas, jay merrick, alex kralie, and jessica locke.

jeff the killer would more than likely tell the others about you, though mostly just so everyone knows that you're off limits for killing. he also just has this thing where he needs people to know what belongs to him so they know not to touch it, and in his mind, you belong to him so. none are allowed to touch you.

eyeless jack isn't that open about his personal life to others. mostly because he can't remember any of it, but also because he's just a guarded person in general. at most, the only people who know about you will probably be jeff, ben, and maybe sully.

jane richardson doesn't really hide your existence, mostly because she doesn't have contact with the others, so it doesn't matter. everyone of importance knows that you're together, and the government knows as well, so.

jane arkensaw would prefer certain people didn't find out about you, though she may tell some of her close friends about you if she's certain that they will keep your existence a secret as well. then again, it's not like you'll ever come into contact with any of the others so long as she has any say about it.

laughing jack more than likely lets everyone know about you because he literally can't shut up about you. he loves you! people need to know that he is so sickeningly devoted to you! even the kids he terrorizes know about you!

slenderman doesn't have any say on whether or not people learn about you because they're gonna find out anyways. besides, it's better if they did know about you because then they would know that you are off limits for killing. anyone who dares to even try to harm you will understand the pure wrath slender can bring down upon them.

nina the killer wants everyone to know about you. she needs everyone to know that you two are together and that she loves you so very much. she tells everyone all about the dates you two have and the gifts you get each other. it's cute, though it can be annoying at times.

the bloody painter doesn't interact much with the others, so not many of them know. helen doesn't really care if anyone finds out that he's dating you, it doesn't really matter to him. though... he will have some words if any of them try making a move on you or hurting you. you're his muse, after all.

the puppeteer doesn't want anyone to know about you, not even his proxies. you're his. no one else deserves to even know that you exist, so why the hell would he tell anyone about you? at most, the only person who knows about you would be emra because he knows that she won't tell anyone if he orders it.

clockwork doesn't let people close to her, so only a small handful of people would even know about you. she likes that none of the others really knows about you, though a part of her thinks about telling them so they know not to make you a victim. not that you'll ever become a victim, of course. she'll protect you from anything, don't worry.

jason the toymaker wouldn't want anyone to know about you. honestly, his whole thing is making sure that you belong to no one but him. you don't need anyone other than him, so why would he tell anyone about you? the others will know that he has someone in his life already, someone he'd burn the world down for, but they'll never know it's you unless they visit his toy shop.

hobo heart would be delighted if the others knew you were his. you have his heart, so it's only natural for everyone to know that you love each other, right? that's how relationships work. he doesn't really speak much with the others, but when he is around then he'll let everyone know who has his heart.

nurse ann is hardly ever around the others for them to even know about you. the only three to know of your existence is liu, sully, and helen because those are the only people she's close with. they don't need to know about you, it's not like they'll ever hurt you. trust me, she won't let them even if they were to try.

zalgo is just as surprised as everyone else that he's like... together. with you. shocks him every day, to be honest. but yes, he wants everyone to know you're his. he doesn't see you as a weakness, though he knows how fragile humans are so he makes sure you're safe from any that may cause you harm. it also sends a... delightful chill to the core of his existence knowing that everyone knows you belong to him.

x-virus basically needs everyone to know that you're together. not because he's possessive in any way, but because he needs to use this as a way to keep you with him. a tactic to keep you from leaving, if you will. with you dating cody, you're safe from harm. if you ever leave him, then you're no longer under his protection. so... stay with him.

homicidal liu is... hesitant, to put it simply. he doesn't particularly mind if the others find out, but he most certainly won't go out of his way to tell anyone. he doesn't want you involved in the darker parts of his life because he's worried about your safety. there are a few that he simply doesn't trust to know about you. sully, on the other hand, would love for everyone to know about you. he doesn't tell anyone because he respects liu's wishes to keep your existence a secret. though, he can't lie, it does make his heart race knowing that he and liu are the only ones who know about you.

ticci toby neither hid your relationship from people nor did he let anyone know about it. he's a naturally reserved person, so it wasn't like he was super open about himself with the others. in the beginning, the only one to know about you would probably be slender, but that's just because it's like... toby's boss, essentially. of course, those who were paying attention could see the signs.

tim wright would definitely keep your existence secret for as long as possible. the only person who knew about you in the beginning was brian, if we're being honest, and after all hell breaks loose, he'd do everything he could to keep you from getting involved. god forbid if jay or alex found out about you. jay would've used you to find him, and alex would've tried killing you.

brian thomas was open about his relationship with you, so everyone knew who you were. you even offered moral support to everyone filming marble hornets. of course, brian disappeared one day... and then you lost contact with alex... and tim was trying to move on with his life, so you didn't really keep in touch with him either. then jay came around, and... well. that led to a certain hooded figure watching you from afar.

jay merrick was neither open nor reserved about his relationship with you. he probably mentioned you early on in a few tapes, and he maybe even introduced you to alex when they were still friends. you'd probably be mentioned in casual conversation with tim, but ultimately it was a situation where if someone knew, they knew. and if they don't, then they just don't.

alex kralie was more reserved about his relationship with you. his closest friends knew, such as jay and brian, but that was about it. of course, once the operator entered the scene and alex started cleaning up loose ends, your life was endangered. alex... he wanted to kill you. he had to kill you. you suppose it's a good thing jay managed to find you before alex could.

jessica locke is obviously very open about her relationship with you. no need to keep it a secret, y'know? you two are like... the couple, y'know? everyone knows you're dating; you guys don't hide it. why would you two keep it a secret? there's no reason to.

[sweetlywriting]

Allegiance

Feyd Rautha x Reader

Part one Part two

Warnings-Dune II spoilers, minor violence, enemies to mutual respect to fiancés(?)

Synopsis- Your planet is rich in horticulture and resources but faces the growing fear of imperialism from other houses. A solution presents itself when you are offered to marry their heir to house Harkonnen, Feyd Rautha.

You entered into the colosseum-esque arena, fascinated with the way the sun cast a veil of black and white onto everything within its grasp. It was subduing and you felt as though you were in an old imperial painting, where all was colorless but the expressions of the people in them.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy this. Feyd Rautha wanted you to arrive today so you would be able to see the show” The Baron said in his mangled voice, gesturing a pale hand towards you.

“I am honored to be in attendance Baron, especially on such an important day.” You said, musing on how it was rather generous for the Na-Baron to allot your visit on his own birthday.

You were excited, no one had told you quite what the entertainment was but you could imagine great performances and exotic animals in the Na-barons name. A lighter part of you also wished to see what he looked like, how he held himself, what is voice was like-though surely upon the prospect of marriage it was rational to take into consideration.

A crease began along your mouth as three staggering men in chains were pushed into the arena along with who you could only assume was the Na-baron. Your temperament quickly changed realizing the entertainment was a fight to the death. The discontent grew seeing that two of the weren’t even truly conscious, stumbling and flailing. ‘A cowards move’ you thought pursing your lips.

You felt more foreign than ever, closely observing the calm and jovial nature of the Harkonnens around you, cheering at the calamity. It frustrated and confused you deeply, unable to stand the senseless violence. The intense smell of blood lust made your eyes water and their rims turn a bloodshot red. Why would your house choose you for him? Your home planet and house was far smaller than Geidi Prime but held traditions of peace and neutrality strong. Yet your family wanted you to marry this man? Live on this planet? With these people?

You turned to your attendant and motioned them to sit beside you.

“What were they thinking sending us here?” You whispered softly in your foreign tongue to them.

“The future of our planet my lady.” They whispered back, head down.

You felt uneasy, but understood that without some influence or power your house would soon slip into irrelevance or face threat from stronger houses. You wore the duty only for the love of your people.

You were snapped out of your reflection when the crowd started to roar again, the bodies of three atreides prisoners lay limp on the floor while the Na-Baron raised his bloodied weapon in victory. Bile rose to your throat. ‘How very difficult this will be’ you thought.

***

A banquet was held for the Na-Barons birthday and you were glad that there was no loss of life involved in simple meals and dance.

You roamed in a corner of the large room, dreading having to present yourself and your gift to the Harkonnens, wary of their violent nature, but it seemed the Na-Baron had beat you to it.

“Lady y/n” The Na-Baron said as he approached you. Up close you couldn’t deny that he was frustratingly handsome with sculpted features, tall gait, and skin like the white marble only seen in Kouros sculptures.

“Na-baron” You said, bowing lightly and offering your hand.

He took it, but rather than shake like on your home planet he kissed it. A polite gesture, but a bit rougher than you would have liked. His teeth grazed your hand and left marks. You tried to smile and brush the thought of getting some painful infection on foreign planet over something this irritatingly trivial.

“Call me Feyd. I heard you made it in time to see the Arena festivities” he said with a wolffish grin.

“Yes.” You said curtly, knowing if he asked how felt about them you would not be able to lie.

“Did you enjoy them?”

“I . . . thought it was rather brazen, an unecessary power play. All know your house is very strong and affluent, why spill more blood to reinforce something all know to be true.” You said this slowly, choosing your words carefully and hoping to sound more flattering than judgmental and unhappy with the injustice.

His smile dissipated and you could tell this was not the answer he wanted or expected, and a part of you feared the same fate of the Atreides prisoners would befall you. Luckily he seemed to find it humorous and laughed.

“No one has ever told me such an odd thing. Pity for prisoners! Very curious lady y/n, very curious.”

Perhaps he was interested, but you could still see venom where you hurt his pride and aroused his anger. You didn’t miss his arm clutching the sheath of his dagger as he laughed, and the way his smirk was more of a snarl now.

“I do not mean to disdain your traditions, I simply don’t quite understand them.” You said mildly when his laughter had faded.

“It’s alright. I like honesty and I like you too.” His eyes glimmered with malice and charm.

“It is true you have come as a prospective bride, yes?” He said.

“Yes. . . I have brought you a gift” You said, firmly thinking of the kind but worn face you your people as you rehearsed the proposal speech in your head. You motioned for one of your attendants to bring a sachetel with a cluster of flowers inside. You felt less reassured about your gift knowing Feyd’s character but presented it nonetheless.

“This is a heliolaris flower, it blooms yellow even in extreme conditions and without the light of the sun. It will hold its color even through the conditions of your planets black sun. Its species was created specifically for you and Giedi Prime. My planet is minor but we have plants that hold powerful miracles and arable land beyond compare. If you went through with our alliance . . . All of that would be yours too”

He peered inquisitively at the plant. He seemed unsure by the gift and your proposal but it only took a minute before his snake-like manner returned.

“I will plant these flowers. If they bloom in color as you say before the fortnight I will marry you, if not you will surrender your life to the arena that you so seem to despise.”

[pickingupmymercedes]

Hey love. Can I request “you’re blurring your words together, time for bed.” but drunk Lewis? Thank you ❤️🥰

Hi lovely. That was a fun writing, hope you like it too.

I can only imagine how much of lightweight he must be now that he doesn't drink alcohol anymore.

You’re blurring your words together, time for bed.

The last of Lewis' birthday cake sat untouched in the center of the table, surrounded by the remnants of a celebratory feast. The laughter that had filled his London home earlier had died down, most of his friends and family having already departed.

Lewis' 40th unofficial birthday dinner, with a few close friends and family at his London home, was winding down. The air thick with the warmth of good food, good company, and perhaps a little too much wine. Specially for a certain birthday boy who had had almost to no alcohol for a couple of years.

Y/N watched him, a smile playing on her lips. He was amusing his dad, his words slurred but his enthusiasm undimmed, about a particularly daring overtaking maneuver from way back in the day. Anthony, chuckling and nodding along as he held that proud gaze at the man he had raised.

Lewis caught Y/N's eye at his side and winked, a mischievous glint sparkling in his usually sharp gaze. He swayed slightly in his chair, prompting Y/N to push a glass of water towards him. "Easy there, champ" she teased.

"Am a big boy you know?! Forty, to be exact" Lewis slurred, leaning back in his chair, a goofy grin plastered on his face. "Bloody hell, never thought I'd see the day."

Carmen shot him a worried look. "Are you really alright, dear?"

"Peachy, mum!" Lewis declared, throwing an arm around Y/N, nearly knocking her off balance. "Never been better! Forty years of pure…" he trailed off, his brow furrowing in concentration.

"Well," Lewis began, his voice dropping to a thoughtful and vague tone, "I never thought I'd still be racing at forty. Thought I'd be, like, retired, settled down…”

Lewis' gaze drifted to Y/n, he cleared his throat, a playful glint still lingering in his eyes.

"Maybe a few mini-Hamiltons," he stated before his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "though let's be honest, the pre-mini-Hamilton training has been… well, let's just say it's definitely kept me in top shape."

Y/N's eyes widened but she couldn’t help but laugh. The absurdity of his words making his step-mom look like a tomato, while his dad, bless him, seemed to be trying to decide between burying his head in his hands or bursting into laughter.

"Alright, birthday boy," she said, her voice firm but laced with amusement, "You're blurring your words together. Time for bed."

Lewis blinked at her, his expression a comical mix of confusion and indignation. "But…" he started, then looked around the table, finally settling on his wide-eyed nephew who was trying very hard to look anywhere but at them.

"Right." Lewis mumbled, a sheepish grin replacing the earlier defiance. "Sorry, everyone" he continued, his voice a little louder now. "Seems it really is time for bed for me. See you all tomorrow"

His friends erupted in laughter; the tension broken. Y/N couldn't help but nudge him playfully on the arm. This was Lewis, birthday drunk or not: a goofball with a heart of gold.

In bed, Lewis propped up on pillows in bed, was still musing aloud. "Sorry about that," he mumbled, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Didn't mean to…you know."

Y/N chuckled. "Don't worry about it. It’s not like they think we’re celibate" she teased, leaning in to kiss him softly. "Now, come on, Mr. Blurred Words, it's definitely bedtime."

Lewis wrapped his arms around her, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "You know," he said, "maybe forty isn't so bad after all. Got everything I ever wanted, right here." He reached for her hand, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her skin. " I'm glad I waited all these years though. Glad I didn't settle for just anyone."

Y/N squeezed his hand, her heart overflowing with love. "I’m glad too" she whispered. "I love you, old man"

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

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[sethvzekiel]

141 + könig x cold! squadmate

gn! reader. lowkey inspired by widowmaker from overwatch, mostly platonic unless you squint. reader is very close to laswell in a platonic way + set backstory.

reader x price, gaz, ghost, soap, and 141! konig bc bias. messed with the timeline a little in post-mwii but they’re still 141 and recruited konig. 3k words.

part 2 here.

warnings: canon-typical violence mention. strong language.

callsign is azrael but only mentioned once or twice.

  price

Azrael. Angel of death. What the hell did you do to get a callsign like that? Price was almost afraid to ask — if it’s anything like Ghost’s callsign, it can’t be a happy story.

Your file was almost entirely blacked out, but the scant few that he could read was impressive, if not bloody. Laswell always called on you for her most delicate tasks, plenty of it related to human trafficking and stealth operations. You’re not tied to a single company, more a solo merc than a soldier among many, but you’ve served alongside enough armies that your lack of a badge doesn’t matter.

And there’s that feeling again in Price. The dulled rush of anticipation, of knowing that he’s got a good one in his hands, bursting with potential. Laswell recognized it the moment she saw him reading your file for the first time.

“Don’t poach all my good men, Price,” she sighed, but gave him your contact details, regardless.

He wasn’t surprised that you turned him down. Your file was rather explicit in telling him that you’re more a lone wolf than a mainstay. But by the fifth rejected call, he had to play the ‘Laswell’s Christmas drinking buddy’ card and get her to convince you.

It was then that he'd seen you in person for the first time, in the cold light of one of Laswell's safehouses, and it'd be a cold day in hell before Price lets himself get intimidated by anyone, but hell was feeling a little chilly that night.

Still, he'd recruited Ghost. He'd recruited König. Surely, he knew how to handle you.

…right.

Your problem, which Laswell already warned him about, was that while you followed his orders in a professional sense, there was a difference between obedience and genuine respect, the second of which you’d only reserved for Laswell.

Price wasn’t particular about demanding respect from anyone and everyone, but he also had the urge to help you open up, to untangle that knot of bitterness and cold that kept you silent. Yet the distance between your ranks was too wide, with a wall of ice damn near impenetrable for Price. Not that he was the type to give up when faced with such challenges.

If you smoked, he’d easily offer a cigar, but if you didn’t, he’d do most of the talking as you silently stood by him during his smoke breaks just by his office window.

You reminded him a little of Ghost that way, ever the silent shadow with haunted eyes and an icy composure. You also insisted on calling him Captain, which wouldn’t have been an issue if not for how robotic you sounded, even in small talk.

When it got around that Gaz managed to get you to warm up, Price felt half relieved, and half like he'd just been upstaged. That was his job as captain, damn it. He watched you grow from the sidelines, slowly defrosting as you spent more time with the others. 

The day after your first leave together out to the pub, he wanted to shut Soap up because of how much he bragged about you taking care of him. Something about you giving him hangover cures and making him food. But he couldn’t have been prouder when he told Laswell the same story.

During your smoke break chats by the window, Price always gave you advice through his stories and musings.

It was only on the last day of your contract that you said anything yourself.

“Kate trusts you.” You spoke suddenly, under the moon of a quiet night.

Price didn’t respond immediately, afraid to break the sudden fragile atmosphere between you two, and silently urged you to continue.

“...she was captured on your watch.” The accusatory sting in your tone was like a knife in the dark.

Price dipped his head low. “And we fought like hell to get her back. We don’t leave our men behind.”

“I know.”

A long silence followed. You were assessing him. Mulling over whether this task force was worth your time or Laswell’s trust. Price could see it in your eyes, and as much as he’d want to convince you to stay right there, that olive branch was already extended a long time ago by Gaz, Soap, Ghost, and even König. As captain, it was his duty to keep you in line. As Price, he wanted to earn your trust. To trust you himself to make that decision.

When his last cigar for the night burned low, the sliver of smoke joining the creeping sunrise, you hummed.

“See you later, Price.”

You retreated back into his office, and from behind him, Price heard the rustle of paper. You left without another word.

He might have rushed to his desk to see what you’d done to his paperwork, and a low, rough chuckle bubbled from within his chest.

You signed his offer.

ghost

‘Laswell’s attack dog.’ That was the cruel summary of your file.

Ghost was the first person Price consulted with on getting you in the team. From how Price and Laswell described you, it slowly dawned on Ghost just how much Laswell trusted you.

If the 141 fails, Laswell will send you.

Naturally, that made Ghost a little wary of you. He trusted Price, he trusted Laswell, but he didn't trust this outlier. You're another sniper, too. Just what he needed after König joined up. Wonderful.

He wasn’t subtle in his caution against you, but it wasn’t supposed to be subtle. It was a warning.

You didn’t cause trouble. Quite the opposite, in fact: you were quiet. Too quiet. Always tending your gear or spending hours at the range, seeming to only have the next battle in mind. He had to check the security feed to make sure that you were going to your room at night and getting food instead of living at the range 24/7.

By that point he’d decided to go to the range and see you for himself.

“Where’d you learn?”

He couldn’t help but ask as you perfected a whole round of targets. You weren’t startled by his presence, already having heard his quiet steps long before he saw you.

“Picked it up as a habit,” was your frosty reply. “Then did it for money.”

“How old were you?”

“Ask Kate.”

There it was. He had his suspicions about how you came to be so attached to Laswell. If you’d served in enough missions, or if there was something deeper than that, with how you would kill for her without question or how Laswell trusted your strength, yet still discreetly asked Price to keep an eye on your well-being.

“Suppose I won’t,” he said, and that was enough for your to pause and turn back to him.

“Thought you were grilling me for info, LT.”

“I know when not to pry. You better not bring old enemies to us.”

“The dead can’t walk.”

Were you cold? Distant? A bit mean? Yes, yes, and yes. But Ghost was patient. So long as you weren’t a threat or nuisance to the team, you could stay. You were even one of the more obedient ones, so he wasn’t complaining.

That changed when he partnered with you on the field for the first time. It was also your first mission with the others, as you were usually the sniper from the far back instead of charging in with them.

Amid the sands and gunpowder, you were a machine. No enemy slipped past your combined strength, and you complemented each other’s combat styles perfectly. He goes in with the heavy fire while you shot down snipers like you already knew exactly where they were.

“Fuckin’ splendid, soldier,” he said on the way back, when everyone else was asleep.

“I try, sir.” 

He looked forward to training with you from then on, silently one-upping each other’s skills from shooting to sparring in an endless chase to the top. The competition grew notorious enough that other soldiers began approaching you for advice on how to improve themselves or to compliment your skills, garnering a reaction from you that only Ghost could tell was embarrassment.

Despite not being as close to you as the rest, your standoffishness and frigid personality were things that Ghost was familiar enough with that he could see right through you. 

“Aw no, another Ghost?” Soap once complained when Price sent them your file. Ghost had only scoffed then at the ridiculous notion.

Now, though, as you silently fussed over your teammates while insisting that you weren’t at all concerned, it made him feel a little warm inside.

Nothing wrong with a second Ghost if it meant more people looking out for his comrades.

And with how you seemed to have König wrapped around your little finger, Ghost could at least trust you with keeping him in line.

  gaz

He can’t explain why, but there’s something about you that reminded him of his old anger; the frustration he had with how much injustice the world let slip between the cracks, the helplessness he’d felt before he met Price.

Your relationship with Laswell… it’s a little like his own with Price, but in the place of brotherhood or mentorship is something quiet and mournful, the kind of loyalty forged out of a dark place. It’s clear that you view Laswell as a kind of savior, the type you’d owe your life to. It’s the only way to explain why you only come back to her.

Gaz kept his distance, unlike Soap. He could tell when you needed space and respected it — unlike Soap. Or Price. Or — he couldn’t believe it — Ghost. It’s just Gaz being respectful, definitely not related to feelings of intimidation or fear. Maybe.

Funnily enough, it’s that wordless consideration of your alone time that made Gaz the first person you warmed up to. It was only a brief chat about when the next resupply for ammo comes in. You’d been running low for a while and your kit is rather specialized, but Gaz was the first you’d spoken to without hostility or work in mind.

With that ice broken, the next conversations were slow-going, but easier. Shared watch duty where Gaz babbled mindlessly about everything he'd been thinking about, just to keep himself awake, while you listened silently, but intently.

Gaz didn't know that you were actually paying attention until you started setting out his favorite tea in the morning without a word or clearing your throat before entering a room because he hated getting startled. Those were things he'd only told you at night, when he thought you were barely tolerating him.

Instead of a terrifying shadow, he started to see the human side of you. The considerate side that you tried to hide with a bitter scowl when he brought it up. Dare he say it, it was a little endearing, like the grumpy stray cat he used to feed as a kid.

When the rest of the 141 noticed, he'd automatically been designated as your unofficial 'translator.' He could decode any of your blank (and sometimes terrifying) expressions to the letter.

"Quit it, Soap, they need a nap."

"Captain, you're bumping into their injured shoulder, sir."

"LT, might want to hide your tea stash, think they saw your cup."

"König, come back! We just wanted to compare gear!... Eh, sorry mate, he's gone."

"What d'you want, black coffee or... latte? Huh. Two lattes, please."

Usually, when you'd be paired up with Gaz, you're the sniper supporting him from far away. Your quiet murmur over the comms, even in a firefight, instantly calmed him down and Gaz swore that he worked better when he knew you were watching him.

Post-mission naps on your shoulder didn’t sound too bad, either. That was a privilege he wasn’t going to give up to anyone. No matter how annoying about it Soap got.

soap

We know Ghost's attitude didn't stop Soap from getting all buddy-buddy with him.

But even then, your demeanor, as sharp as a coldsnap and twice as biting, gave him pause. He's spoiled with reactions from other people to his presence, whether it's reciprocated friendliness or annoyance at his energetic personality. Total apathy, with a tinge of hostility, only came from Ghost and you. And Ghost warmed up to the guy already, so your silence bothered him a little.

Not that he hated you, but it stirred a competitive urge to challenge your coldness and finally get you to crack.

Mercifully, he somehow didn't end up getting killed in the process of fighting for your attention. He's not subtle about it, though: other people on base always referred to him as your 'pet dog' when he's looking for you.

"Hey, your Scottish Terrier came by, was yowling for your attention."

"Put your dog on a leash, would you? He won't stop interrupting R&D to ask where you are."

"Feed your pup, sergeant, he looks pitiful from over here."

But you didn’t look down on him the way others do. You didn’t see some kid trying to play hero, who got lucky because Price took a shine to him and had no other skills to speak of. You looked down on him the same way you did at everyone else: a detached gaze from your metaphorical ice castle, nothing more. And in a twisted way, it’s refreshing.

When he found out that you'd gotten close with Gaz before anyone else, he was ready to whine. Ghost certainly got the worse end of his complaints. Since then, he'd butt into yours and Gaz's conversations, especially when you started joining the boys for lunch instead of eating alone.

It was only on your first leave together, your first civilian outing, that Soap realized that you were closer than he'd thought.

While he was drinking at the pub, you carefully watched him, silently looking out for signs of him getting too drunk, at which point you'd begun secretly ordering watered-down versions of his drink until it was practically juice. 

Even with how wasted he was, he saw through your trick, but all was forgiven by the next morning when you'd cared for him through his hangover in your own, grumpy way. You even cooked breakfast for him, but he wouldn’t tell you that it was practically tasteless and mostly hangover cures. The thought counts, right?

And wow, he would not stop rubbing the fact that you took care of him all over 141’s faces.

“Watch your back, Gaz. I’ll be takin’ your spot soon!”

“Johnny, it’s two in the fucking morning.”

“You can’t be their favorite and Price’s at the same time. Pick one!”

“No. Besides, think König is second to me, not you.”

“The fuck?”

könig

You reminded him of the deep winters of his deployments in the north. Cold, cruel, yet beautiful. Sorrowful. Lonely. Silent. Calming.

Make no mistake, the first few months with you around, König was sure he was going to have a breakdown. Your lightless stare bored holes into him, no matter how hard he tried to hide from your field of view. It took enough of his energy to resist the urge to hide behind any of his new 141 teammates. Seriously, how did he get along better with Ghost than with you when you didn't even have a mask?

It didn't matter if you’re built like Ghost or the scrappiest operator around: your chilling aura always left König with his hands clammy and breaths a little short.

If Gaz pre-friendship was giving you space, König was running from you at first sight.

But when König watched you grow close with the rest of the 141, his sharp eyes catching that lightning-fast flicker of tenderness on your face, it was over for him. He had to see it again, like sunlight glancing off fresh ice.

Cue the big guy trailing after you helplessly, like a fidgety shadow, that the other 141 members politely pretended to ignore. Not that he's any good at hiding.

König may have done a good job at absolutely shattering his terrifying image with his actions at base, but when you're on the field, he's an entirely different person.

A beast. A hunter. A king of the battlefield. He's covered in blood from head to toe, glee rushing through his veins as he bludgeoned two men with his bare hands. For a moment, he wondered if you would be impressed with his kill count. You must be. Then he thought for another moment. Then another.

And he remembered that you were his partner for this mission, and that no, this was not a good look for him.

Slowly, horrified, he turned back to you. You looked over the aftermath: a warehouse filled with bodies, not all of them slain with bullets, and broken weapons. König barely heard you convey your victory to Captain Price over the comms, even if you were right in front of him.

It was only when you clapped him on the arm that he snapped to attention: both from your touch and the miniscule smirk on your lips.

"Don't forget to watch your six."

"You... are not... afraid?"

"Just glad I'm not on your bad side. Let's go."

On the next missions, König would restrain his bloodlust a little, if only to see you in action himself. You moved smoothly and quietly, just like a shadow leaving death in your wake. He watched you snuff out an entire enemy safehouse without anyone noticing. 

You truly were the Angel of Death, going from door to door, taking lives like it was divine decree. There was never a more beautiful sight.

König was... stuck to you like glue, to say the least. He'd slowly begun joining you at target practice, or sparring, or running into you around the base and coincidentally offering his help with the reports you meant to file.

Whether you noticed or not, he didn’t care. Actually, he wouldn’t mind if you noticed how helpful he’d been. The more you saw him as reliable, the more you’d be willing to be his buddy on the field, yes? And the more he’d get to see you in action, no?

Now, if only the others would stop hogging you for a second… he could interrupt that conversation you were having with Ghost… if Ghost wasn’t looking… any time now…

[crownmemes]

Domestic Bickering Sentences, Vol. 3

(Sentences for problems - big, small, serious, and light - between muses in a relationship. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"I fail to see what you hope to achieve with this approach."

"How about we just go home and pretend this day never happened?"

"Don't you dare play the innocent with me!"

"You’re doing that thing where you pretend to know more than everyone else in the world."

"That look in your eye is a pain in my ass. You know that, right?"

"You're untidy! You've always been untidy!"

"You danced like a wildebeest!"

"You're too smart to play the victim."

"Don't be so grumpy!"

"I love you. I've just got a funny way of showing it, that's all."

"You're nothing but a petulant child!"

"I do hope that I'm not about to regret the soft spot that I have for you."

"Close your eyes and make a wish!"

"I can handle my own problems! I've done it for a long time before you came along!"

"Every once in a while, I like to hear the voice of someone who's on my side."

"Do you honestly think that now is the right time for this conversation?"

"Look, we all have tough days. All I'm saying is you've got to do your best to be nice to people."

"Are you mad at me or something?"

"Have you ever even tried to think about things from my point of view?"

"You keep promising that, but I don't see anything happening!"

"I'm competing for your attention again, aren't I?"

"Have you any idea how ridiculous you sound?"

"Can we just enjoy each other's company for a little while?"

"Go on; I know you can't resist the urge to say 'I told you so'."

"I'm going for a walk before I say something I deeply regret."

"So what goes on in here, huh? What are you hiding?"

"You're such a snob!"

"That was a really stupid thing to do!"

"Why didn't you say anything about this before?"

"Don't you dare!"

"You're too bloody perfect, that's your trouble!"

"What happened to your resolution to be more accepting?"

"Don't you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?"

"Don't be an asshole. Do you want to hear this or not?"

[the-modern-typewriter]

wgshdwgd im sorry if youre not accepting snippet reqs </333

but could i req you write abt a villain who *everyone* is genuinely terrified of. and then the hero just politely tells them to shut the fuck up. like, villain could be monologuing or smth and hero would cut them off saying that they would really appreciate it if villain could finish up in the next hour or so because they dont want to miss bargain day at the supermarket.

uwah im sorry if i broke any rules </33 stay safe its a crazy world out there <333

"-Could you please just shut up?"

There was a moment of absolute, horrified silence. One man promptly fainted. Nobody seemed to breathe for a few seconds.

The villain turned, slowly, towards the protagonist.

They were on their knees on the floor, surrounded by armed guards ready to execute the various staff still in their building. Their expression was one of exhausted long-suffering, one hand pinching the bridge of their nose as if to stave off a headache.

"Excuse me?" the villain asked, oh so softly.

"Will you please stop talking?" The protagonist dropped their hand, levelling the villain with a look. "Like, if you're going to slaughter the lot of us, just do it, don't make us listen to the spiel first. It's been forty five minutes."

"Are you so eager to die?"

"No. But if I'm going to die, I think I'd like to get it over with. Otherwise, I'd like to just go about my day. I need to buy food before the shop closes and takeaway costs a fortune. I mean, bloody hell. Forty five minutes. Do you really think anyone here is listening?"

The villain stared.

"Like, not to be rude," the protagonist said. "But they're all scared out their minds. They are not processing the finer points of your monologue. It's just so unnecessary."

"I could cut out your tongue and feed it to you."

"You don't have anything better to do?"

"I could cut out their tongues," the villain swept a hand around the room, "and feed them to you. That sorts out dinner, doesn't it?"

"I mean, I'm vegan, and not a cannibal, but I appreciate you're more concerned with being menacing than actually addressing the issue."

The villain stared some more.

The protagonist stared back.

"The data I need is still downloading," the villain said, after a long moment. "If I let you leave, someone will do something stupid like try and call the police."

"Sure, sure. But the monologue."

"You don't enjoy the sound of my voice?"

"I wouldn't take it too personally. It's been a week. Bit overstimulated, to be honest. Anyone's voice right now feels a bit like a cheese grater on my nerve endings."

"A bit like a cheese grater."

"No offense."

The villain blinked at them, slow and somewhat incredulous. "A cheese grater."

The protagonist shrugged.

"I'm assuming you didn't miss who I am in the last forty five minutes," the villain said.

"No."

"And yet."

"It's not that you're not terrifying," the protagonist said. "I just - forty five minutes. Humans aren't set up to be this stressed for forty minutes. My head is killing me. Processing all this - if you don't kill us - is going to be hard enough without having to fit in all the life admin I'm not currently getting done."

"Come here."

"...what?"

The villain crooked a finger to beckon the protagonist forward.

The protagonist swallowed, eyeing the villain warily, but didn't make them ask again. With a glance at the armed henchmen, they shuffled forwards to the spot the villain had gestured at their feet.

"You know," the villain said, "it's been a very long time since anyone has talked back to me."

"Sorry. I'm really not trying to be rude."

"No," the villain mused, head tilting with something alarmingly like curiosity as the protagonist came to a stop. "You're really not, are you? Turn."

"...turn?"

The villain gestured again, to indicate that the protagonist should face away from them.

"...You can't just give me all the orders at once? I get this is more dramatic, but I probably wouldn't be trying your patience as much if-"

The villain seized the nape of the protagonist's neck, like scruffing a kitten, making their breath catch.

Everyone watched for the inevitable torment. The punishment. The kill.

The villain's fingers dug into the knots of tension in the protagonist's neck, power sparking up the touch.

The protagonist sagged. "Holy shit," they breathed.

"Better?"

"Um. I mean - yes - but -"

"Good." The villain glanced up to the henchmen. "Shoot everyone else."

"What? Wait - no -"

The sound was deafening.

Then the silence was, once again, absolute.

"You didn't have to do that," the protagonist whispered. "I didn't mean - if I offended you -"

"Oh, you didn't, don't worry. That's why you're still alive. Tell me about yourself."

The villain's grip stayed unrelenting on the back of the protagonist's neck, holding them securely in place.

"T-tell-?"

"We still have ten minutes," the villain said, in a tone of great patience, "before the download completes. Tell me about yourself. I shouldn't be the one doing all the talking, after all. It's very rude of me, isn't it?"

Hesitantly, the protagonist talked, watching the blood pool on the floor. What else was there to do?

The computer finally gave a quiet beep to indicate that the download was complete.

"Good. Very good." The villain gave the protagonist's neck another gentle enough squeeze. "Now. Let's go grocery shopping," the villain said cheerfully. "Up you get. Dinner's on me."

[cherubfae]

Can you write Alastor x a Reader who works in radio? I don't think Alastor would let them on air since he doesn't seem the type to have a co host to me but maybe he'd have a intern who gets him coffee or a script writer.

"𝔦𝔱'𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔦𝔯" || {𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯}

tags: gn!sinner!reader (described to have horns but is an otherwise ambiguous demon!!), fluff, pre-established relationship, mentions of death, true crime, vox being vox lmao, jealous alastor, blood/bloody play (sorta??), Valentino is his own warning (threats of SA but nothing happens), mentions of injuries and being kidnapped (use of chloroform), implied VoxVal, no smut but still MDNI

a/n: I hope you enjoy!! This got a bit long!

Much like Alastor's life before he died, you were also quite the popular radio host for your time. Engaging, funny, and respectable. Your audience loved tuning in the early hours of the morning to you recanting the strange occurrences of the multiple killings of men from the late 1920s until that stream suddenly stopped during the year 1933 within New Orleans, Louisiana.

True crime has always been your passion, in life and in death. You certainly didn't think you'd end up in Hell for taking the life of someone trying to mug you on the street. A tall, masked man who saw to it that you'd never see the light of day again. A couple gunshot wounds to your abdomen proved effective as you rest against the wall, bleeding out onto the concrete with your soon-to-be killer lying facedown and dead mere feet from you. Killed by the very thing you sought to bring awareness towards. Quite poetic in a way.

As your gaze clouds and vision becomes unfocused, you look up at the stars. The ares around you was beautiful. It was one of your favorite parts of town, even your death wouldn't taint the beauty of the stretching oak and maple trees reaching tall towards the skies. The faint sound of smooth jazz playing from the record shop only a few paces away mixing with the swirling scent of coffee. At least you were dying in a place that you loved.

Now, here you are. In Hell. Doomed to total damnation for all fucking eternity. You'd been down here for a couple months, taking up residence near Cannibal Town, yet still unsure of what to make of all the carnage, debauchery, and depravity. You didn't think you belonged in Hell, even if you took the life that simultaneously extinguished your own.

"What's wrong, dearie? I've known you to be quiet but today you are exceptionally so." Mused Rosie, her gentle tone pulling you out of your reverie. You glanced down at your tea, sighing.

Leaning your cheek against your palm, you meet her charcoal-black eyes. Genuine concern etched onto her politely beautiful face. "I'm just feeling lost is all, I guess. I told you how I ended up in Hell, right?" Solemnly, Rosie nods.

Placing down her tea cup, Rosie wiggles towards you a bit. "Maybe you just need to find that old spark again! Something that roused you when you were alive! I have a friend who was a radio host, same as you. He may be able to have a job for you! Alastor is as charming as they come!" She grins, her mouth full of pointed teeth on full display.

Your brow quirks. "Alastor? The Radio Demon?" Rosie nods, excitedly. Alastor had been the prolific serial killer that haunted New Orleans back in the 1920s. It felt weird that the main man-- subject, you studied in life would soon be your acquaintance and potential boss in death. You'd heard many hushed tales about the aforementioned Radio Demon dealing in bartered souls and how he wreaked havoc against his fellow Overlords overnight. He definitely seemed like the kind of demon you didn't want to make light of, or worse, be on his bad side.

"He's a quirky one, for sure, but don't listen to all those rumors and gossip!" Rosie waves her hand with a laugh. "Alastor is still a gentleman and I'm sure he'd be delighted to offer you a job! Maybe you can intern for him? Besides! If he's ever rude to you, ol' Rosie will kick him in the shins! I'll wear my extra-pointy boots!" She giggles, holding your hands in hers. "You'll be in good hands, my dear! I'll let Alastor know you're coming right away!"

Staring down at the neatly folded paper in your hand, you double and triple check the address scrawled in neat calligraphy.

Hazbin Hotel.

Was it normal for a former serial killer slash radio host to become a hotelier that's trying to rehabilitate sinners?

With a shrug, you made your way up the incline taking note of the rather ominous looking radio tower jutting out from the far-right side of the hotel. A sign displaying the words on-air was currently unlit and it looked quite dark inside from what you could see from the ground. Perhaps the great Alastor wasn't at home.

Knocking on the front door, you're greeted by a tall, deer-like demon with two-toned hair and sharp yellow teeth dressed in a dapper red-pinstripe suit complete with a microphone-like cane. Scarlet eyes stare down at you like a lion watching a gazelle. You feel utterly and completely exposed, like he's peeling back your every layer, surveying you, before he even said a single word.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, my dear! Quite a pleasure! You must be the little darling that dear Rosie sent, yes?" Alastor places his hand on your lower back, guiding you past the hotel's front doors and into the welcoming comfort of the establishment's front lobby and reception area. "This is a place where wayward sinners such as yourself can find peace and be led on the path of redemption to ascend to Heaven by Hell's very own princess, Charlie Morningstar!"

On queue, a blonde-haired girl sprints up to you squealing and flailing her arms a bit. She takes her hands in yours and offers you a big, delighted smile. You like her immediately. "Oh, my gosh! Welcome, welcome to Hazbin Hotel! I see you've met our gracious host Alastor! He's mentioned that you're going to be interning for him-- how exciting! We are so thankful to have you!"

With the attention directed back at him, Alastor grins with a whine of radio static. It was the equivalent of a lazy smirk with his half-lidded scarlet eyes taking you in one more, searching for any potential risks you may pose though you didn't intend any of that sort. You felt your skin begin to heat the longer his gaze remained on you, and hesitantly break the eye contact with the demon in favor of Charlie, who has been excitedly talking about all of the hotel's features.

To think, all those months ago had been the start of your journey with your friends. You had felt so out of place in Hell, in your new skin, uncomfortable with the weight of sharp horns protruding your skin and the strength of your clawed hands. You were quite pleasantly surprised at what you could withstand now as a demon.

"I brought your coffee, sir." Alastor hums out a soft 'thank you' yet continues to fiddle with the buttons and tracks on his console, not raising his head to look at you. "Rosie gave me some venison for you. She said aid it's your favorite when it's fresh and raw." Placing Alastor's simple black coffee on a small side table, you revere your boss with a fond expression. Rosie had been truthful she said he was the charming sort. There certainly was an air of respectability about him that men lacked from your time.

"Our dear Rosie is certainly a clever one, and she is quite correct. There is no better way to enjoy meat than having it served fresh. Preferably off the bone but this will do." Alastor tilts his head, turning to the side to regale you from the corner of his eyes. Those damn beautiful scarlet gems. "Something the matter, my dear?" Alastor's voice is a soft crackle.

Stumbling in surprise, you wrack your brain for a plausible answer. When you find none, you shake your head from side to side cursing the heat that sets your cheeks ablaze.

Alastor smirks, standing from his stool and approaches you. He grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger; his claw lightly dragging across your lower lip. Blood beads up following the path his claw created. He swipes it up, licking it in front of you.

"Tasty," Alastor grins, leaning down and bumping his nose into yours. "As I said, meat is best when fresh." He squeezes your cheek lightly, chuckling at the exudes into his palm. "If I wasn't certain, I'd say you have a little crush on me, hmm?" He turns his back to you, those damned scarlet eyes that see straight through your soul strike you where you stand. "That'll be all now, dearest. Thank you for your time and your blood."

You couldn't get out of there fast enough. You weren't afraid of him, no, you were more scared of kissing him now more than ever. A fantasy of both of you pressed tight to one another with mouths soaked in blood would be all you can think of for hours.

Whatever was going on between you and Alastor continued on much like a game of cat and mouse only he seemed to be going out of his way more and more to fluster you, saying things that would catch you off guard.

"I don't think of myself as much of a man who desires a relationship beyond friends and family, but cohabitating with you as lifelong partners does sound desirable."

"Hmm, tell me. Are your horns sensitive?" His breath ghosts then one day, causing you to shriek and cover them. You pout, turning your head to glare at him. Alastor's grin only seemed to stretch further. "Only teasing, darling, no need to get so uppity."

It was a slow evening, Alastor had sent you off on another errand. There was a sense of apprehension worrying his brow, glancing at the analog clock. The hour hand strikes the 3am mark. He'd sent you off almost an hour and a half ago, so where were you?

Interference crackles onto his radio, Alastor hissing as the feedback screeches. With ears pinned back, his eyes narrowed further when a familiar voice crosses.

"Ugh, I will never understand why thr fuck you use this shit, Alastor." Groaned Vox. "Anyway, I got your cute assistant here. You should see them, shaking like a leaf." The radio glitches in tune with Vox's laughter. "Valentino here has been itching for a new plaything, doesn't that sound good, sweetheart? Maybe we can broadcast that for all of Hell to see, right Al--"

Smash. Alastor's fist smashes through the radio cutting off Vox's boastful rant.

On the other side of the city, Vox blinks in confusion. "I lost the radio signal? Oh, fuck, God this shit is so old." He sighs, leaning back in his chair. Spinning around, he gives you a wry smirk. "Guess we'll see if the Great Alastor comes to rescue his lost pup, hmm?"

Glowering at him, left bound and gagged, sitting on the cold, hard floor. Valentino gives a harsh tug on your hair, your teeth sinking into the cotton gag shoved in your mouth, a muffled grunt leaving you.

An electric feeling in the air has your hair rising. Vox and Valentino share a confused look. A large fist blasts inside of the V Tower, claws sharp as they did through the metal like it was butter.

"Oh, fuck, it's Alastor!" Vox shrieks, scrambling to get away from the broken window. A second fist smashes through sending Vox into the opposing wall with a deep thud. Valentino runs to his friend's aid, helping him up.

"Well, this is what you wanted, honey."

Vox groans in protest. "I know."

Green electricity crackles, a dark shadow pooling into the room and with a shriek, manifests into Alastor.

Paying the two no mind, Alastor crosses the threshold and kneels down before you. His clawed fingers are gentle as he removes the gag around your bruised mouth. "Sorry it took me so long, mon cour." A tentacle bursts through his back, spiraling directly into Vox and Valentino, sending the two into the neighboring room with a loud crash.

Scooping you into his arms, Alastor calmly walks through to the next room, his hand cupping the back of your head. "Rest." He regards the other two males with a snarling crackle.

"If I didn't have more important matters to attend to, I would eviscerate you two gents. Touch what is mine again and I'll broadcast your fucking screams all over Hell." Alastor hums, exiting V Tower.

"Holy shit! Did you see?? He finally sees me as his rival!" Vox cheers, tossing both arms into the air in celebration.

Valentino sighs, "Honey, you need psychiatric help."

"This may sting, but I trust that you can handle it." Alastor says, rubbing off the blood from your brow with a cotton ball doused in isopropyl alcohol. Wincing softly, you take the moment to look at him closely. You'd never seen Alastor so disheveled. Even with dealing with enemies, he was always composed. But, tonight, he had been anything but the picture of composure. He looked positively feral.

"Is there something about my face you find interesting, dearest?"

Squeaking, your face flushes, shaking your arms frantically. Gasping you quickly place a hand to your ribs. Guess they really did fracture something when they knocked you out.

Alastor stills your hands with his own. "Easy now, pet. You're in no state to be moving around like an interpretive mime. I was only teasing you, my dearest. You had me worried tonight."

Hanging your head low, you turn your gaze away. "I'm sorry, Alastor. I don't know how they got the drop on me. I was walking home and smelled something odd--," you gasped in realization. "Chloroform. It had to be."

Alastor growled tensely at that. He tied the bandage around your arm and with a snap of his fingers the medical kit disappeared and a serving tray appeared carrying a kettle full of hot chocolate and a staple 1920s dessert: pound cake. This one was drizzled with a bitter chocolate and filled with strawberries.

Alastor takes your hand and gently kisses your knuckles. "Care to join me for a treat?" His tone was a touch more gentle than it had been a heartbeat ago. You smile, nodding eagerly. He grins and begins to cut the cake, serving you first. "One more thing."

Softly, Alastor kisses your cheek. It was the lightest of touches and over as soon as it happened. He busies himself by pouring two mugs of steaming hot chocolate, the apples of his cheeks were a rosy hue.

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[certainlynotasimp]

Okay, first of all, how are you? Hope you’re doing well! Drink plenty of water, stay hydrated- Second off, your Sunny fics? *chef’s kiss* so mainly, what if anybody made Sunny cry and Miguel had to find out about it? And Sunny’s trying not to make it seem like a big deal in order to keep Miguel from, you know, absolutely obliterating anyone.

Come on, Baby, Cry.

((Miguel O' Hara X Female! Reader))

A/N: Oh my goodness, thank you so much for the compliment. All my readers? *Extra chef's kisses* I am very hydrated and I got so excited to write this for you and to add some angsty content lol. I hope you enjoy this and let me know if you are disappointed or if you love it.

A/N: I also wanna address two things before I post this too. 1) thank you so much to the anon who asked me to include translations for the Spanish phrases as I was honestly not thinking about doing that. I will do better to include the translations at the end of the fics. 2) There are gonna be some triggering topics explored in this one-shot so if you don't want to hear about near injuries to children or child loss, then I understand if you don't want to read it. Feel free to enjoy my other fanfics and here's the post where you can stay notified on happier Sunny and Miggy fanfics.

Warnings: Grumpy x Sunshine, Barely using (Y/N) ((Sunny is just their nickname, not their actual name.)), Female pronouns, PTSD, Mentions of Child Loss, Endangerment of a Child ((No children were actually hurt, just traumatized)), Trauma, Comforting, Fluff, Angry Miguel, and Google Translate Spanish.

The room fills with squeals and giggles as the chase between the chubby toddler and the jumping spider. Mayday swings her little self around the corridor as the young woman follows behind amused by how agile the little tyke was. 

‘Maybe she’ll make a good sidekick in the future.’ The smiling woman muses in her mind before a bloody image flashes in her mind. Shaking her head, she clears the idea out of her mind as Mayday reaches an open window. 

Her quick scream of horror as she accidentally swings herself out of the window causes the woman’s blood to run cold as she flings herself out of the window after her. “MAYDAY!”

The adrenaline coming from her heightened fear causes the whole thing to appear to be trapped in time as the spider woman falls with the screeching infant falling inches away. Tears clouded her vision as she shoots out her webbing to the pillars around them as the images of flames lick at her eyes. 

So many flames, and too many buildings at once. Screams and pleas from below as she tries to be there. They didn’t matter to her, not at that moment. The only one who mattered was him. Did he scream like that too or did he not even feel it?

Using her webbing, she quickly creates a hammock for Mayday to fall on a few feet from the ground, thankfully trapping the wailing infant so she can’t escape. Unfortunately, reality doesn’t set in time for the spider as she slams into the titanium flooring below, knocking the air out of her lungs.

Many spidermen gathered as they heard the commotion, but she could only focus her blurry vision above her as she tries to regain her sight. A familiar blur of bright pink swings up and grabs the ball of ginger hair in a muddled mess of cries. He quickly drops down to where the disoriented woman was splayed out below with the whimpering infant in his arms.

“Hey, Sunny, you alright?” Peter calls his friend. The damage didn’t look bad from the outside, but he was sure she had some nasty concussion with how she was looking at him.

Hobie crouches down beside the crumbled girl and carefully lifts her head up with one hand. “Oi, Sunshine, you there?” He mutters as he looks into her eyes. He holds up his hand and makes three fingers pop up. “How many fingers do you see, love?”

With a cough, the woman croaks out, “Three?” Her eyes begin to focus as her enhanced healing works out the stars in her vision. With the help of Hobie and Peter, she stands up with a whimper at the feeling of her shattered ribs forming back together. “Damn, I forgot that falling several feet actually hurt.” She attempts to joke despite her wheezing breath. The crowd around them laughs as Peter sighs in relief.

“Thank god, you’re alright.” Peter mourns as a glint of regret shines in his eyes. “I’m sorry for all this, Sunny. I shouldn’t have let her bring the web shooter here. She almost swings herself out of the window all the time and MJ told me that one day I won’t be there to help the next time it happens.” Mayday’s cries end as she sees her favorite play partner up and well as she shows off her gummy smile.

“Well, luckily I was here to save the day.” The disoriented spider muses as she returns the infant’s smile as the men chuckle. The crowd dissipates leaving the injured spider with her two friends.

“I’m still really sorry, P. I got distracted and didn’t see that the window was open.” She winces as she blames herself for being so neglectful.

“Don’t sweat it, kid. This little rascal will probably send me to an early grave with all the mischief she causes.” Peter jokes as he tickles his now roaming daughter, chuckling at her excited squeals.

“Good thing you don’t have a kid, Sunny.” Hobie chuckles. “You would lose them in a heartbeat.”

The bright atmosphere shatters as the woman abruptly pulls away from her friends. The men look at her confused until they saw the look in her eyes. The normal warm and inviting gaze that they all thrived under was gone, only a dark void was staring back at them. Their light now shining in hurt and sadness as memories cloud her mind. Her lip trembles in a tight line as tears begin to roll down her face. 

Hobie looks confused at the sudden shift, but Peter realizes something as he looked at his trembling friend. Her eyes burned with tears as they locked with his. She had a haunted look about her. It's a look only parents can ever understand and fear. The look Peter himself almost experienced. “Hey,(y-” Before Peter can comfort her, she activates her mask and turns invisible before running off, her muffled sobs leaving them speechless.

Hobie groans as he realizes two things. One, he just made the sweetest person in the world cry. And Two,...

Miguel is gonna kill him.

~~~~~~~

The warm glow of the portal illuminates the surveillance room as the blue spider steps out covered in a musty yellow goo. Lyla smirks as she observes the little chucks slipping onto the ground as Miguel attempts to dust off the slime from his large shoulders.

“Was your mission successful, boss?” The assistant snarks as she sends out a little robot to follow the annoyed Spiderman. The little bug-like contraption eagerly swallows up the disgusting mess Miguel left as he walks up to the platform. “The anomaly was captured and disposed of. Next time, warn me if William Baker is made of anything except sand.” He grumbles as the sound of the little robot annoyed him even more. 

“I’ll make a note of that.” The AI giggles as she downloads the mission info from Miguel’s gizmo. “Also ‘Miss Sunshine’ is here and she doesn’t seem too happy.” She says before fading out.

Miguel’s eyes widen upon hearing that his sunny partner was upset. She was never upset. Never. With concern eating away at him, Miguel shoots out a web and swings himself to the platform above. He lands softly as he sees the scene in front of him.

His sunshine sat in his usual seat in front of the monitor. Her costume was dirty with a chest compression brace wrapped around her ribs as her choked sobs wheeze out of her. Her mask was off as her head rested against the ice pack in her hand, her back leaned forward as her attention was focused on the image before her.

He already knew what was on the screen.

He knew that file name by heart just like how he knows Gabriella’s.

File SW-0001425

World 16457-0

Spider-Woman- (Y/N) (L/N)

Age of infection- 23

Occupation- Intern Medical Research Assistant in the Genetics Department of { REDACTED } working under Dr. {REDACTED}

Sacrifice: Ben (L/N), age 4, Son of (Y/N) (L/N), 1 year into being Spiderwoman

Cause of death: Blunt Force trauma and Smoke inhalation caused by a multi-location attack caused by { REDACTED}

Status of Universe: DESTROYED

On the screen, the laughing face of a younger Sunny shines as a chubby cheek of a baby boy with dark curls smooshes into hers. The faint sound of a child mimicking the smooch of a kiss can be heard as the overexaggerated gasp of the woman causes the toddler to squeal. “That was such a sweet kiss, Benny. Can mommy have another one?” The sweet voice soured the air as the sobbing woman mournfully watches her baby boy.

The baby she failed.

Miguel approaches behind her and slowly takes the mouse from her weak grasp. The broken woman sighs as she realizes her miggy is here with her now, but doesn’t turn to look at him as he pauses the video. Her baby’s matching eyes stare right back at her before Miguel turns the chair around to face him as his mask disintegrates. His eyes glow red under the light of the monitors as he searched her sore eyes. Her face was red with a noticeable bruise along the left side of her face. Tears and snot crusted over her soft features as her lips remained turned into a trembling whisper. Her pupil shone in self-loathing and searching for his comfort. He could tell that this episode isn’t just one of her low days, something happened.

Something happened and he wasn’t here to stop it.

Miguel closes his eyes as his hand caresses her cheek. The warmth of her flushing face nuzzling into his palm allowed him to ground his rage as he focuses his gaze back onto his beloved.

“Mi luz, ¿qué pasó?” He seethes as he looks deep into her eyes. 

She shakes her head as she tries to avoid looking into his concerned ruby gaze. The glass bridge was already cracked as she internally debated with sobbing everything that happened into his warm embrace or to protect her friend from the wrath she knows Miguel will unleash if he knows what was said. The warmth of his other palm cupping her cheek, guiding her to a wandering eye to look at his frowning face nearly broke her.

“It was nothing, Miggy…”She whispered as her voice trembled again. She tried to control her eyes from unknowingly confessing while she tries to bite the wobbling pout. “It was an accident…”

“What.” Miguel runs his thumb under her abused mouth as a piece of her disheveled hair was swept back. “Happened?” His demand is punctuated as he holds her in his stare. His eyes burned with barely contained fury and protectiveness as he studied her reactions. “Odio verte como la suya, mi amor.” He admits with a sigh.

Leaning forward, Miguel places a firm kiss on her forehead as his beloved’s breath shudders at his touch. The gentle heat under his touch left her trembling as the glass began to crack. “Let me ease your pain…” He whispers as he trails his kisses down to her eyelids. “These eyes are meant to be filled with happiness, not sorrow…” The cracks deepen as he gently kisses her nose. “I can’t undo what has happened…” The corners of her lips were caressed by his as his nose brushed against her cheeks causing her eyes to meet his mirrors. Her sorrow and helplessness are reflected in his ruby eyes as he kneels on the ground between her legs. A silent plea breaks the resolve she built as he mutters into her ear.

“Please, mi sol, at least let me feel your pain too…It's me and you against the universe remember…Por favor no me dejes solo ... No quiero perderte de nuevo.” He begs as the tension shatters. 

With her arms snaking around his shoulders, the little spider confesses all that happened hours prior into his ear. Each detail, each scar, burned into his mind as she clung to his neck and hair. His inferno of rage almost imploded until he looked back into her eyes again. The relief of letting go of all of her troubles made her face look years younger as she looked at him with her big vulnerable eyes. 

Hobie will have to wait. His love needed him now.

In a silent nod, Miguel wrapped her weak legs around his waist before he stood up. Feeling her snuggling into his throat, he carries her toward her room down the hallway while the annoying robot follows them to clean up the mess. As he enters the room, he releases some of his anger by smashing the bug with his foot. 

“What was that, Miggy?” She croaks as she weakly tries to look over his shoulder.

“Just a bug,” He sighs as he approaches her dresser and grabs his spare set of clothes from his drawer. “You want your clothes or mine?”

“Yours…” She shyly admits as he feels the heat returning to the cheek on his neck. 

“Muy bien, niña bonita. Lo que quieras.” He whispers as he grabs another set of clothes that he knows will swallow her. With that, he carries them into her personal bathroom and spent the night slowly bringing back his sunshine.

~~~~~~~~

A deep scream rings out through the Lobby as they see a flash of blue fury tackles the residential metal head into the ground. Peter hurries to save his colleague along with a few other Spidermen as Mayday laughs at the anarchist getting thrashed by the clawed man spewing Hispanic curses at him.

~~~~~~~~~

Translations:

Mi luz, ¿qué pasó? - My light, what happened?

mi sol - my sun

Por favor no me dejes solo ... No quiero perderte de nuevo. -Please don't leave me alone...I don't want to lose you again

~~~~~~~

taglist:

@ameliadraws 

@tojisrightnut

@whyareyoubored

@silly-lovestruck-em

@luvil1y

@chims-kookies

@himesuedi

@22carolina08

@chaoticevilbakugo

@boredwithlifeatthispoint

@hoshhoshh

@isaidoop

@pheroineux

@rosiepetalss

@aniya7

[lunememes]

🌙  *  ―   𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄    (  a list of kidnapped and torture scenarios of varying degree. from torturing for information to torturing for the enjoyment of it. for drabbles or prompts or both! feel free to change wording as needed! do not add to the list.  )

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 

❛  i’ll tell you anything you want to know, just please stop!  ❜ ❛  i won’t break, so do your worst.  ❜ ❛  you are sick in the head.  ❜ ❛  when i get out of here, i’m going to kill you. i promise you that.  ❜ ❛  they’ll come looking for me! they’ll notice i’m gone.  ❜ ❛  i’m not going to tell you anything.  ❜ ❛  i can’t  —  they’d kill me if i told you.  ❜ ❛  who sent you, huh? who are you working for?  ❜ ❛  i know what you want, but i’m not going to give it to you, no matter how hard you try. so do your best.  ❜ ❛  i always got the feeling you never liked me.  ❜

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐑 

❛  don’t look at them, why are you looking at them? look at me. they’re not going to help you.  ❜ ❛  you see, i had quite a reputation as the go-to guy. my job demanded it at the time. so I know where to apply the tiniest amount of pressure to a wound like yours.  ❜ ❛  no one is coming for you. i made sure of that.  ❜ ❛  how you come out of this depends entirely on you. so i strongly suggest you cooperate, for your own sake.  ❜ ❛  you look so good like this, all tied up and bloodied.  ❜ ❛  go on, scream for me.  ❜ ❛  oh, i’m not going to rush this. i’m going to take my sweet time.  ❜ ❛  i'm not going to kill you, but i’ll make you wish you were dead.  ❜ ❛  give me what i want and all this can stop.  ❜ ❛  ah-ah, don’t pass out on me now. we were just getting to the fun part.  ❜

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐑 

❛  don’t touch them.  ❜ ❛  i’m sorry, i can’t do this. i’m going to give them what they want.  ❜ ❛  nothing is worth losing you.  ❜ ❛  I’m right here, okay? we’re going to get out of this. together.  ❜ ❛  just hold on a little longer.  ❜ ❛  (name)? stay with me! don’t fall asleep!  ❜ ❛  you want me, right? so hurt me, and leave them alone!  ❜ ❛  do it, then. i don’t care what happens to them.  ❜ ❛  you’re worth protecting.  ❜ ❛  just let them go. it’s me that you want. they didn’t do anything / they don’t know anything.  ❜

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐒

[  CHAIR  ]   receiver’s muse wakes up tied to a chair and finds the sender’s muse sat in front of them, waiting for them to wake up. [  CHAINS  ]   receiver’s muse wakes up with their arms chained above their heads and sender’s muse is standing in front of them, waiting for them to wake up. [  HYDRATE  ]   after some time of torturing, sender’s muse offer’s receiver's muse a drink of water. [  DROWN  ]   deciding to switch tactics, sender’s muse shoves receiver’s muses’ head underwater to deprive them of oxygen. [  BRAND  ]   sender’s muse burns receiver’s muse with a hot iron. [  ELECTRIC  ]   sender’s muse electrocutes receiver’s muse. [  STRUGGLE  ]   with receiver's muse struggling against sender’s muse, sender’s muse hurts them to put them back in their place [  WAKE UP  ]   just as receiver’s muse falls asleep, sender’s muse pours cold water over them. [  CLEAN UP  ]   stuck in the same scenario, sender’s muse helps to clean to receiver’s muse’s wounds. [  BREAK OUT  ]   it’s been some time but the captive has finally broken free. receiver’s muse gets some revenge on sender’s muse.