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baddyxangel · 16 days ago

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IM CURRENTLY READING ANGEL AND OMGGG IM SO OBSSESSED WITH UR WRITING IT IS AMAZING!!! <333

I saw your requests are open and was wondering if you could do a oneshot of AK!Jason Todd (Arkham Knight) x reader, maybe like if reader tried escaping or running to Batman for protection and you knowww he'd be so pissed off maybe Jason saying smth like "BATMAN?! He can't protect you! He never protected me and left me for dead! Only I can protect you! Don't you understand?!" Also with some Yandere themes I just feel like there is sooo much potential with that version of JT because he's so crazy and unhinged and hot!!

Only me

pairing *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Yandere!AK x fem!reader

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ angst. dubcon. noncon kissing. implied noncon. captivity. SA. mindbreak. canon typical violence. yandere themes. darker themes. minor character death. jason is a meanie.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ I wasn’t sure if I wanted to make this a smut or not and ultimately decided not to. But anon thank you for the request. I had so much fun writing it and I hope you like it. And like always Comment, Reblog and Like (☆≧▽^)

Day after day, night after night, Y/N sat in the dimly lit bedroom, the cold, unyielding chain around her ankle a constant reminder of her captivity. The metal links clinked softly as she tugged at them, over and over, her hands raw and her spirit weary but unbroken. She had been patient, calculating, biding her time as she worked the chain against the bedpost, each pull weakening the metal until, finally, one link gave way. It was a small victory, but it was enough. Freedom was no longer an abstract dream—it was a plan, and she was ready to see it through.

Every afternoon, like clockwork, the maid arrived at exactly 2 p.m. and left at 5 p.m. sharp. Y/N had observed her routine for weeks, memorizing every detail. The woman was quiet, efficient, and—most importantly—unsuspecting. She was Y/N's only lifeline to the outside world, her only chance at escape. A pang of guilt flickered in Y/N's chest at the thought of what she was about to do, but it was quickly smothered by the memory of everything she had endured.

The Arkham Knight—Jason Todd—had taken everything from her. After slaughtering every man who had worked for her father, Black Mask, Jason had decided that she, Black Mask's daughter, would be his ultimate prize. His spoils of war. His perfect accessory. His toy. His pet. To Y/N, it was a fate worse than death. She had become his refuge, the place he returned to every night, forcing her to bear the weight of his emotions in whatever way he chose to express them. She hated it—hated his touch, hated the way his eyes shifted from longing to unbridled rage in an instant, hated him. All of him.

But now, she had a plan. And she wasn't going to let anything—or anyone—stop her.

As the clock struck 2 p.m., the door creaked open, and the maid stepped inside, her presence as quiet and unassuming as always. Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself.

“Can you get me a glass of water?” she asked softly, her eyes downcast. She made sure to appear as broken and helpless as possible, knowing it would tug at the maid’s sympathy. The woman looked at her with pity but said nothing. Jason had made it clear that no one was allowed to speak to her, to even look at her. Like a possessive, jealous child, he would kill anyone who dared to lay eyes on what he considered “his.”

But Y/N wasn't his. Not anymore.

The maid nodded silently and turned to fetch the water. Y/N's heart raced as she watched her go. This was it. Her chance to escape. To reclaim her life.

And she wasn't going to waste it.

The maid reached for the plastic jug and glass—plastic, because after Y/N had nicked Jason with a shard of glass during one of their first nights together, he'd made sure to remove anything she could weaponize. The moment the maid handed her the glass, Y/N lunged. Her hands wrapped around the woman's throat, cutting off any chance of a scream. The maid thrashed, her eyes wide with panic, but Y/N held firm, her grip unrelenting until the woman's struggles weakened, and she slumped to the floor, dead.

Y/N's chest heaved as she released the maid, her hands trembling but her resolve steady. She turned to the chain around her ankle, tugging at it with all her strength. The weakened link finally gave way, the metal snapping with a sharp clink. After two hundred and forty-two days of captivity of enduring Jason's nightly torment, she was free.

She moved quickly, stripping the maid of her clothes and replacing them with her own. Guilt flickered in her chest as she pulled on the maid's uniform, but it was nothing compared to the relief of shedding the outfits Jason had chosen for her—garish, revealing things she would never have worn by choice. Once the maid was dressed in her place, Y/N dragged the deceased woman onto the bed, tucking her under the covers to buy herself more time.

At exactly five o'clock, Y/N slipped out of the room, her footsteps light and deliberate as she tip-toed through the penthouse. She rarely saw much of it; Jason only unchained her when he felt like it, and even then, he never let her out of his sight. But she remembered the layout well enough. The living room, the hallway, the door—it was all etched into her mind from the few times she'd been allowed to wander.

One thing worked in her favor: the maid was always brought in and out with a black bag over her head, a precaution to keep the penthouse's location a secret. Y/N used that very loophole to her advantage. She waited by the door, her heart pounding, until she heard the familiar footsteps of the guard approaching.

The man didn’t recognize her. Why would he? Low-level goons were only tasked with ensuring the “woman in the penthouse” didn’t escape. They had no idea what she looked like. Without a word, the guard placed the bag over her head and led her out. Y/N’s nerves were alight with fear and anticipation as she was guided into a car, the bag blocking her vision but not her determination.

As the car started moving, her mind raced. What if Jason had already figured it out? He was no fool, and it was only a matter of time before he realized she was gone. But for now, she was free. And she wasn't going to waste this chance.

The car rumbled along the uneven streets of Gotham, each bump and turn making Y/N's heart race faster. The black bag over her head was suffocating, but she forced herself to stay calm, to focus on the sounds around her. The hum of the engine, the occasional honk of a horn, the distant wail of a siren—it all told her one thing: she was getting farther away from the penthouse. Farther away from him.

But freedom wasn't guaranteed yet. Jason was relentless, and if he discovered her escape before she could disappear into the chaos of Gotham, he would stop at nothing to find her. She had to move quickly, to vanish before he even realized she was gone.

The car came to a stop, and Y/N's breath hitched. She heard the driver's door open and close, followed by footsteps approaching her side. The door swung open, and a gruff voice said, “Out.”

She obeyed, stepping out of the car with her hands clenched into fists to keep them from shaking. The guard gripped her arm, leading her forward. She could hear the faint sound of voices, the clatter of dishes, the hum of a busy street. They were in the city, somewhere public. This was her chance.

The guard stopped walking, and Y/N felt him fumbling with something—likely the bag over her head. She didn't wait for him to remove it. In one swift motion, she drove her elbow into his stomach, catching him off guard. He grunted, his grip on her arm loosening, and she twisted free, tearing the bag off her head.

The sudden burst of light blinded her for a moment, but she didn't stop. She ran, weaving through the crowded sidewalk, her heart pounding in her ears. Behind her, she heard the guard shouting, but she didn't look back. She couldn't.

Gotham's streets were a maze of chaos, and Y/N used that to her advantage. She ducked into an alley, then another, her feet carrying her as far and as fast as they could. She didn't know where she was going, only that she needed to get away.

Finally, she stumbled into a dimly lit subway station, her chest heaving as she leaned against a wall to catch her breath. She glanced around, her eyes darting from face to face, searching for any sign of Jason or his men. But there was nothing. Just the usual crowd of Gothamites, oblivious to her plight.

She bought a ticket with the few dollars she'd taken from the maid's pocket and boarded the next train, sinking into a seat as the doors closed behind her. The train lurched forward, and for the first time in months, Y/N allowed herself to breathe.

But the relief was short-lived. Jason would come for her. She knew he would. He had made it clear that she belonged to him, and he wasn't the type to let go of what he considered his.

As the train hurtled through the dark tunnels, Y/N's thoughts spiraled. She needed a plan, and fast. She had to disappear, to become someone Jason could never find. But how? Gotham was his city, his kingdom, and his eyes were everywhere. There was no corner of this place he didn't control, no shadow deep enough to hide her forever.

She got off at the next station, closer to the heart of the city. She knew exactly where she had to go. There was only one person who could protect her now, only one man who stood a chance against Jason Todd.

The Batman.

Jason's father. His mentor. His greatest enemy.

Y/N had been around Jason long enough to know the depth of his hatred for the Dark Knight. It was personal, all-consuming, and violent. As the daughter of a villain, she didn't expect much sympathy from Batman. But as a victim of Jason's obsession? Maybe, just maybe, he'd listen. She knew Batman was already hunting the Arkham Knight. If she could reach him, if she could buy herself enough time, she might finally escape this nightmare for good.

She stepped off the subway platform and hurried toward the exit, her heart pounding with every step. The rain outside was relentless, pouring down in sheets, turning the Gotham skyline into a blur of neon and shadows. She barely noticed. Her focus was singular: get to the GCPD. Get to Gordon. Get to Batman.

But then she heard it—a gruff voice cutting through the noise of the rain.

“There! Stop her!”

Jason's men. They'd found her.

Panic surged through her veins as she broke into a run, her feet slamming against the slick pavement. The rain soaked through her clothes, the cold biting into her skin, but she didn't care. She couldn't stop. Not now. Not when she was so close.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel him—Jason. His presence was like a shadow, always looming, always watching. Even when he wasn't there, she could feel the weight of his gaze, the burning intensity of his obsession.

But she couldn't let him win. Not this time.

Through the downpour, she saw it: the Bat-Signal, its iconic symbol glowing faintly against the stormy sky. It was her beacon, her North Star. She knew what it meant. Batman was here. He was close.

The GCPD headquarters loomed in the distance, its lights cutting through the rain-soaked darkness. If she could just reach Commissioner Gordon, if she could just get to Batman, maybe—maybe—she'd have a chance. She pushed herself harder, her legs burning, her lungs screaming for air. Every step felt like a battle, but she couldn't stop. She was so close.

But then, a shadow stepped into her path.

“Hey there, missy,” a voice drawled, low and sleazy. From the silhouette, she knew it wasn't him—not Jason. Just some low-life thug, the kind who wouldn't have dared to even glance in her direction when her father was alive. Her face twisted in disgust, but she didn't have time for this. She turned to run the other way, only to find another man blocking her escape.

“Ain’t she gorgeous?” the second one sneered, his voice dripping with malice.

“Stay back!” Y/N warned, raising her fists. Her father had kept her sheltered, pristine, and untouched by the filth of Gotham's streets—not out of love, but because she was his most prized possession, a bargaining chip to be sold to the highest bidder. But she was done being someone's property. Despite her sheltered upbringing, she had taught herself basic self-defense. She wasn't going down without a fight.

“Don’t even try, sugar,” the first man said, pulling a pocketknife from his jacket. Y/N's heart sank. Her only option was to run. She turned to bolt, but the second man grabbed her wrist, his grip like iron. She squirmed and kicked, but it was no use.

The one with the knife stepped closer, the blade glinting in the dim light. “Would be a waste to kill her right away,” he said, his voice sickeningly casual. “Not every day you see a face this pretty on the streets.”

“Damn straight,” the other agreed, his breath hot and foul against her ear. “I can think of a thing or two to do with her.”

“No! Help! Please, somebody help!” Y/N screamed, her voice raw with desperation.

“Shut up!” the man barked, clamping a hand over her mouth. Without thinking, Y/N bit down hard, her teeth sinking into his palm. He yelped and jerked his hand away, his face contorted with rage. “You stupid cunt!” he snarled, slapping her across the face.

The blow sent her reeling, her ears ringing and her vision swimming. She felt their hands on her, rough and invasive, and heard the sickening sound of fabric tearing as the knife sliced through her dress. Her stomach churned. Is this how I die?

Her eyes drifted upward, toward the sky. The Bat-Signal burned bright, closer than ever. The GCPD was just around the block. The realization sparked something in her—a surge of adrenaline, a flicker of hope.

With a sudden burst of strength, she twisted free from the man's grip and drove her fist into his face. It wasn't a perfect hit, but it was enough to make him stagger. She spun around and kicked the other man between the legs, her blow weaker than she wanted but still effective. He doubled over with a grunt, giving her the precious seconds she needed.

She didn't look back. She ran, her legs carrying her as fast as they could, her heart pounding in her chest. The GCPD was so close. Batman was so close.

But they were quick to catch her, and relentless in their pursuit. She felt the fabric of her dress tear further, the cold air biting at her exposed skin. "No, please!" she sobbed, her voice breaking as she begged, their hands groping and violating every inch of her they could reach. Desperation clawed at her chest, and before she could stop herself, words spilled from her lips—words she never thought she'd say.

“Jason! Help me, please!”

It was a plea born of sheer terror, a cry for the one person who, despite his flaws, his violence, his obsession, had always ensured she was safe. When she was locked away in his penthouse, she knew no harm could touch her. It was a twisted kind of security, one that now felt like a curse.

And then, as if summoned by her cry, a gunshot rang out.

The bullet tore through the air, striking the first man in the head. Blood and brain matter sprayed across Y/N's face, and she froze, a mix of horror and relief washing over her. In the chaos of fighting for her life, she hadn't noticed that Jason's men, who had been chasing her since the subway station, had suddenly vanished. Now, she knew why.

The Arkham Knight dropped from a nearby rooftop, landing with practiced ease. The gravel crunched under his boots as he strode toward her, his expression unreadable behind the cold, menacing mask. Y/N stood paralyzed, her breath caught in her throat, as the second man scrambled backward, his voice trembling with fear.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know she was—”

Another gunshot cut him off mid-sentence, the bullet finding its mark with deadly precision. His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Jason didn't even flinch. He holstered his gun, his focus entirely on Y/N. The rain poured down around them, the sound of it mingling with the distant hum of the city. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, his silence more terrifying than any words.

Y/N stood there, drenched and shaking, her face streaked with blood and tears. She didn't know whether to feel relief or dread. Jason had saved her, but at what cost? She was back in his grasp, and she knew there would be no escaping him again.

The Arkham Knight stopped just inches from her, his masked face tilting slightly as he studied her. Then, without a word, he reached out, his gloved hand brushing a strand of wet hair from her face. The gesture was almost tender, but it sent a shiver down her spine.

“You called for me,” he said finally, his voice low and rough, almost disbelieving. “You called for me.”

Y/N couldn't speak. She didn't know what to say. She had called for him, and he had come. But now, as he stood there, his presence suffocating and his grip on her life tightening once more, she realized the truth: there was no escaping him.

Jason Todd.

The Arkham Knight.

He had warned her. He had told her not to run, not to try to leave him. But she had. She had foolishly thought she could escape, that she could find safety with Batman. She had thought the Dark Knight could protect her.

Tears began to fall, streaming down her face, and soon they turned into uncontrollable sobs. Jason pulled her into an embrace, his arms wrapping around her like a vice and pulled his helmet off with a click. It was the kind of embrace a hero might give his damsel in distress after saving her. But Jason was no hero. He was a villain, through and through.

“Please,” she choked out, her voice trembling. “Please, Jason. Let me go.”

She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears, her body shivering from the cold and the shock. She was barely clothed, vulnerable, and broken. For a moment, Jason almost felt a flicker of pity for her. Almost.

“You broke the rules, sweetheart,” he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “But I’ll admit, I’m impressed. Killing the maid so ruthlessly. You almost pulled it off.”

Y/N froze at the venom in his tone, the raw anger that seemed to radiate from him. His grip on her arm tightened painfully, and she winced, but she refused to cry out. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

“You think running to Batman will save you? Batman can't protect you,” Jason snarled, his face inches from hers. His eyes burned with a fury that made her stomach churn. “He can't protect anyone! He left me for dead, remember? He doesn't care about you. He doesn't love you. Not like I do.”

His words cut through her like a knife, each one a reminder of the twisted reality she was trapped in. She wanted to argue, to scream, to fight back, but she was too exhausted, too broken.

“You don't love me,” her voice was barely audible over the sound of the rain. “This isn't love. This is obsession.”

For a moment, Jason just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he slammed her against the alley wall, his body pressing into hers, trapping her. His hands framed her face, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the anger burning in his eyes.

“Then what is love, Y/N?” he demanded. “Tell me.”

Y/N hesitated. Love? She had never truly known it. Her life had been a series of transactions—lust, respect, fear. She had never fallen in love, never been loved in return. “I don't know,” she admitted, her fists involuntarily tightening around the fabric of his suit.

“You don't get it, do you?” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “I'm the only one who can protect you. The only one who will. Batman? He's a myth. A symbol. But me? I'm real. I'm here. And I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if it means locking you away where no one can ever hurt you again.”

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “Jason, please..”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “No more running. No more trying to leave me. You're mine. And I'm not letting you go. Not ever.”

Before she could respond, his lips crashed down on hers, the kiss fierce and possessive. She tried to push him away, but he only deepened the kiss, his hands sliding down to her waist, pulling her closer. She could feel the desperation in his touch, the raw, unrelenting fear of losing her that drove him to this madness.

When he finally pulled away, they were both breathless, the air between them heavy with tension. He rested his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged, his presence overwhelming.

“Now let me show you my love,” his voice a low, dangerous promise that sent a shiver down her spine.

His grip tightened on her waist, the rough material of his gloves digging into her exposed skin. Y/N's breath hitched as Jason's hands moved with purpose, his touch both possessive and deliberate. The rain continued to pour around them, soaking through what little clothing she had left, but she barely noticed. All she could focus on was the heat of his body, the way his presence seemed to swallow her whole.

Jason used his knee to part her legs, his movements deliberate and possessive.

“Jason, please...” she whispered, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Shhh, it's okay, darling,” he murmured against her lips, his voice deceptively soft, almost soothing. But there was no mistaking the intensity in his touch, the unyielding determination in his actions.

He wasn't asking. He wasn't giving her a choice.

“Let me go...” she spoke again, her voice more broken than ever, but he silenced her with another kiss, this one deeper, more demanding. His hands roamed her body, mapping every curve as if he were memorizing her, claiming her.

She wanted to resist, to push him away, but her body betrayed her. The heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, the way he seemed to know exactly how to unravel her—it was too much. She felt herself weakening, her resolve crumbling under the weight of his obsession.

“Don't you understand?” he growled against her lips, leaving no room for argument, “I can't lose you. Not you too.”

She didn't know what to say. She didn't know if there was anything she could say. Because deep down, a part of she understood. A part of her saw the broken man beneath the armor, the boy who had been abandoned and left to die. The boy who had to claw his way back to life.

And as much as she wanted to hate him, as much as she wanted to run, she couldn't. Because now she knew, no matter how far she went, he would always find her.

“Mine. Mine to protect. Mine to keep. Mine to love.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, but before she could resist any further, he lifted her effortlessly, pressing her back against the cold, wet wall of the alley. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her in place as he leaned in, his breath hot against her neck.

“You called for me,” he repeated, his lips brushing against her skin. “You called for me. That means something, Y/N. It means you know deep down that I'm the only one who can keep you safe. The only one who truly understands you.”

Her breath hitched, her mind racing. She wanted to argue, to deny it, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, another thought surfaced, sharp and accusing.

“You heard me,” she said, feeling the stab of betrayal in her stomach. “That means you were watching. You let them touch me. Why?”

Jason stilled, his grip on her tightening almost imperceptibly. For a moment, he said nothing, his face unreadable. Then, slowly, he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze.

“I wanted you to see,” he said, his voice low and steady, each word deliberate, cutting through the rain and the chaos like a blade. “What happens when you try to leave me. What happens when you think you don't need me. Those men?” He gestured vaguely toward the bodies lying motionless in the alley, his tone dripping with disdain. “They're nothing. They're ants. But out there, in the world you're so desperate to run back to, there are far worse things waiting for you. Monsters who won't hesitate to tear you apart. And I needed you to understand that. To see it for yourself.”

He had let it happen. He had watched from the shadows, waited, and only stepped in when she called for him. It was a cruel, calculated lesson, one designed to break her, to shatter any illusion she had of freedom. He wanted her to see, to feel, that he was her only refuge—no matter how twisted that refuge might be.

“You're a monster,” she whispered, her voice breaking, the words barely audible over the sound of the rain.

Jason's lips curled into a faint, almost sad smile, as if her accusation amused him in some dark, twisted way. “Maybe,” he admitted, his voice softer now, almost tender. “But I'm your monster. And I'll burn this whole city to the ground before I let anyone else touch you.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, leaving no room for doubt. He meant every word. He would destroy everything—and everyone—who stood between them.

Y/N's resistance crumbled completely. She stared past him, her eyes locking onto the faint glow of the Bat-Signal in the distance. The symbol of hope, of justice, of everything she had once believed in. But now, it felt like a cruel joke, a taunt. The hope it represented drained out of her, replaced by a hollow ache that settled deep in her chest.

Jason's lips trailed down her neck, his touch alternating between gentle and rough, as if he couldn't decide whether to cherish her or punish her for trying to leave. His hands gripped her tighter, pulling her closer, as if he could erase the distance between them—both physical and emotional.

“You're not going anywhere,” he said, his voice firm, final. “Not ever again. I'm the one for you sweetheart. Only me.”

She wanted to deny it, to tell him he was wrong, to scream that she would never stop fighting him. But the words wouldn't come. Instead, she clung to him, her fingers digging into the fabric of his suit as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded.

And maybe he was.

Y/N closed her eyes, the tears mixing with the rain on her face like a silent requiem for the freedom she would never know again. Her heart was torn between the instinct to fight and the crushing weight of resignation. Jason Todd was no longer just a man—he was a tempest, a force of nature that would devour everything in its path until she was all that remained, bound to him in a way that defied reason.

And as much as she wanted to hate him, as much as she wanted to scream and claw her way out of his grasp, a part of her recognized the truth she could no longer ignore—in his own fractured, jagged way, he loved her.

It was a love that defied sanity, a love that would raze cities and shatter worlds to keep her close. It was a love that terrified her, not because it was cruel, but because it was real.

And in the end, that was the most devastating truth of all.

tag: @swamiiyasssss

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baddyxangel · 22 days ago

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Kai Parker who never says sorry. Kai Parker who does the same thing over and over again. Breaking into your house. Showing up to places unannounced. Who is convinced that you don't actually have to like him all that much for the both of you to work, whatever that means. Kai Parker who keeps finding more and more ways to trap you alone. Who doesn't take no for an answer. Who sees pissing you off as a cute way to spend time together. Who would rather die than see you happy somewhere else, happy in a way he has no control over. Happy in a way that he can't take away.

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baddyxangel · 1 month ago

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Kai Parker

This motherfucker was the greatest character to come out of any television show because this bitch had literally no other purpose than to step into a room and fuck shit up and make heart eyes at Bonnie. He literally didn’t accomplish a single goal he set out for but still managed to win and brought nothing but chaos and destruction in his wake. He killed his family, fucked up a wedding, got thrown into hell and then when he came back just went right along with causing chaos for shits and giggles. He killed unnecessarily, had a bad case of “the emotions” for a few seconds, and enjoyed basically coming in and ruining everyone’s lives. He didn’t even fully commit to being a good guy- and was happy when the side effects of the emotions wore off and he could go right back to killing everyone for fun. Basically all he managed to do was keep flirting with Bonnie on a regular basis and set Mystic Falls on fire. #goals

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baddyxangel · 1 month ago

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Hostile reminder that

Kai has been diligently and carefully filling in Bonnie’s crossword with words she didn’t know

Which means he’s been creeping around the house while a vampire slept in it and stayed undetected

In fact he has been observing them long enough to learn basics about their lives, who they are, and who they are to each other

Stayed gracefully unimpressed upon meeting a vampire

Was curious and bored enough to watch those two like live television

Kai would understand almost any show reference you’d throw at him

Kai’s twitter is popular and he made the members of MF gang follow him even though they didn’t like him

Kai is Taurus that acts like a Gemini or a Virgo

Kai was graceful and condescending enough not to annoy people with his pop culture nostalgia and puns although he had every right to do so since he didn’t care about them; he suffered the loss of Whitney Houston and Patrick Swayze in silence and never explained his subtle easter eggs thrown at their ungrateful uneducated ears

Kai pretended to be the little weasel (silly, dependent, lovestruck, helpless, a bit childish) while being a Big Wolf (actual sociopath)

Kai could take out just about any creature in Mystic Falls while being overall inferior in power as a mortal siphoner. Because he was more resourceful and, more importantly, incredibly imaginative

Kai was a textbook serial killer but not stained with the notorious sexual drive in killings which made him such a fun character to watch

Kai made an excellent reference to the Silence of the Lambs which was understood by like 2,5 people Caroline probably excluded

Kai got everybody’s names wrong on purpose in an overt act of establishing dominance. And it’s also hilarious

Kai was basically absolutely non-judgmental

He was the only one who constantly laughed at the absurdity of Mystic Falls shenanigans which made everybody feel like he’s speaking for us nearly breaking the fourth wall. Instead of becoming a part of the vampire diaries, he stepped aside and giggled which brought freshness to the show and made him so relatable that everyone instantly digged him

Kai was unapologetically self-appreciating and wasn’t shy to sing like a dying goose, dance like an idiot and try on pants that were too tight in his own opinion

Kai never gloated at his victims but laughed at them like a kid which was twistedly innocent on his part

Kai appreciated and crushed on the most underrated TVD character so sincerely, deeply and nonchalantly that even though he always posed a deadly threat to her and would’ve been terrible to her, everyone still ships them

Kai has learnt basically everything there was to learn in prison world and still was happy to ride in the backseat of the car

He was an amazing cook and the only time he boasted about it he was blushing like a teen

He never once said “kids these days”, only mentioned once that the country got dumber, but that’s barely generation gap arrogance

Kai is so self-sufficient and aware that he doesn’t even need to be arrogant

Kai is crystal honest about his killings and hides nothing

Kai’s opinion about Hell was “ew the torture thing nah”

Kai died painfully unimpressed

Kai called The Necromancer Mr Necromancer which pissed Mr Necromancer so bad

Kai looked straight into the camera like in the Office

Kai was anti Delena

Kai healed himself after being bitten by Tyler without Klaus’s blood

He was like oh wait, I can siphon it, lol nvm

Kai made it out of the Malivore on his own without anybody’s help

Just to manifest himself in the Salvatore school and call Landon dumb. Your fave would never

Kai learnt that Damon has killed a pregnant woman who was also his nephew’s girl and never reproached him for that

He was basically the most honest person in Mystic Falls and never scolded that bunch of hypocrites, murderers and cheaters, and hoes still mad because he killed his siblings who were a part of a bloodthirsty coven that would’ve swallowed them anyway at some point

I’m not saying Kai Parker was superior to basically everybody and more likable despite being a heartless piece of shit because it’s obvious as it is

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baddyxangel · 1 month ago

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Theo Raeken looks at Stiles Stilinski like a hungry, feral coyote would look at a deer ..

STILES LOOKS AT HIM THE SAME WAY THO. I don’t think there’s any deer in this situation tbh lol. theo has a weird way of preying on stiles by convincing him he’s a predator. if anything theo wants stiles to tear him apart. it’s interesting cause he knows stiles cant really do much damage so he’s just getting off on pushing him and seeing how violent he can get even if he’s the one getting hurt he fucking loves it. he wants control, stiles is just like a pet that needs to be trained to him, like an attack dog. I mean he wants void stiles, he wants a literal demon under his control. he’s hungry for that. except !! there is no demon it’s just stiles, it really doesn’t make sense for theo to want him in his pack so badly. sure stiles is smart but theo doesn’t seem to even really care about that. it’s not strategic, it’s not about power, it’s entirely emotional, he just wants stiles because he wants stiles. he wants an angry violent fucked up kid "in his pack" ok theo lol ur dumb ass wants someone to relate to that’s literally all stop playin with this alpha shit take ur boyfriend and go chill. like I really think theo does not have his shit together as much as it seems, as good as he is at planning and manipulating he’s gonna get in his own way eventually. he wants control and power sure, but he also wants a mirror, he wants to see his own violence and darkness reflected in someone else…maybe that’s the only way he can connect with someone. he really really wants to be the deer sometimes is what I’m sayin and he knows stiles secretly shamefully wants to be the coyote.

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baddyxangel · 1 month ago

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woah can’t believe one of the photos izuku took was canon erasermic raising eri that’s so crazyyyy !!!!!!

fr tho i had so much fun drawing this it was really interesting to try to mimic horikoshis style i hope i did it some justice!!

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baddyxangel · 2 months ago

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actually i do find it hilarious that Derek was all ‘i’m a real actual werewolf with experience of being a werewolf and i can give you advice about how to be a werewolf because i am a werewolf’ and Scott was like ‘sorry my completely human 16 year old best friend just took a double-dose of adderall and went on an 8 hour wikipedia spree so i think he’s got me covered on the werewolf advice stuff :)’

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baddyxangel · 3 months ago

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Literally Neil:

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baddyxangel · 3 months ago

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in that case would you be able to do some nsfw ethan nakamura headcanons 🙏! thank you!

۶ৎ — Ethan Nakamura ! Nsfw Hc

tap here for cbh masterlist ! here for reqs info

warnings: mentions of... power/control dynamics, biting/marking kink, overstimulation, sex/nsfw content

ㅤ୨ৎ —˳ ethan nakamura ! reader

summary: just ethan carrying his discipline, restrain and intensity into the bedroom.

Silent but deadly. Ethan isn’t loud in bed—he’s all sharp breaths, quiet groans, and tightly restrained control. But the moment you push him just far enough? You’ll get deep, throaty moans and the sound of him growling your name against your skin.

Control is everything. His entire life has been about struggle and discipline, and that carries over into the bedroom. He holds himself back, savoring every reaction you give him, watching you fall apart under his touch before he even thinksabout giving in.

He’s calculated and precise. His hands move with purpose—never rushed, always intentional. He memorizes exactly what makes you shudder, where to press, where to bite. And once he knows? He exploits it, over and over again, until you’re a shaking mess beneath him.

Pent-up frustration? Yeah, that’s coming out in the bedroom. Ethan has spent years fighting for recognition, for survival, for his place in a world that’s overlooked him. That tension? He channels it into every touch, every thrust, everydesperate moment where he loses himself in you.

He’s a giver—but only when he wants to be. He enjoys seeing you fall apart beneath him, but he won’t just give in because you ask. He makes you earn it. If you beg sweetly enough, if you gasp his name the right way, if you tug on his hair just hard enough—then he’ll reward you.

When he kisses you, it’s all-consuming. Slow, deep, the kind of kisses that steal your breath and make your head spin. He’s not messy like Leo, not overly playful—he’s intentional. Every kiss leaves you wanting more.

Kinda loves being ridden. He likes control, but he also loves watching you take what you want from him. The way you move, the way your nails dig into his shoulders, the way his fingers tighten around your waist as he fights to hold himself back—it wrecks him.

He’s not into meaningless hookups. Sex with Ethan is intense—he needs a reason for it, whether it’s emotional connection, built-up tension, or pure, raw need. He’s not the type to casually mess around. When he wants you, he wants all of you. With everything the poor guy has been through, the last thing he wants is to feel used again.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't do them. Trust me, he can, and he's damn good at it.

Biting kink? Absolutely. He loves leaving marks on you—bruises along your neck, red bites along your collarbone, possessive proof that you’re his. And if you do the same to him? Oh, he loves it.

Eye contact during everything. Ethan doesn’t look away—not when he’s taking you apart, not when he’s watching you gasp, not when he’s pressing you into the mattress and drinking in every little reaction. He wants you to see how much he’s holding back—and how much he wants you.

He’s so damn smooth. The way he drags his fingers along your skin? The way he smirks when you shiver under his touch? He knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s not cocky about it—he’s just naturally intense, effortlessly dominant.

Slow, deep strokes. Ethan isn’t frantic or messy—he’s precise, thorough. He watches the way your body reacts, drives you insane with a pace that leaves you aching for more. And when you really start to lose it? That’s when he speeds up, smirking when you fall apart beneath him.

Likes to test your limits. Not in a cruel way—he’s too controlled for that—but he loves seeing how much you can take. How many times he can make you beg, how long you can last before you’re clawing at him, pleading for him to just ruin you already.

His mouth? Dangerous. Kissing isn’t just affection—it’s possession. Slow, deep, tongue brushing against yours, biting your lower lip before pulling away just enough to see you chase after him. If you think you’re getting away without breathless, messy lips by the end of it? Think again.

He’s strong—way stronger than he looks. You wouldn’t expect it, but the moment he holds you down with one handand pins your hips with the other, you feel it. He’s lean, but his grip is unshakable. If he wants to keep you in place? You’re not moving.

Low-key loves it when you push back. Fight him, tease him, try to take control—he’ll let you think you’re winning for a second before flipping the situation on you so fast your head spins. And if you really challenge him? He thrives on that tension.

“You can do better than that.” Oh yeah, Ethan taunts. He wants to hear you, wants to feel how desperate you are, wants to make sure you’re giving him everything. If you try to hold back? He’ll push you until you break.

Loves when you leave marks on him. Scratches down his back, nail imprints on his arms, even a bite along his collarbone—he likes it. He won’t say it outright, but the way he smirks when he sees them the next day? Yeah, he’s into it.

He never leaves you unsatisfied. Ethan may be restrained, but he’s not selfish. If he gets to have you? He’s going to make sure you feel every second of it. Over and over. Until you physically can’t take anymore.

Post-sex? He’s still intense. He won’t get all soft and cuddly, but he will keep you close. A hand on your waist, fingers idly tracing your spine, his breathing slow and deep against your neck. He’s not the type to whisper sweet nothings—but the way he holds you? That says everything.

Heeey, here’s your req! I know the fandom has its own take on Ethan since we don’t get much of him in the books, but I went for a more emotional angle. Hope you like it!

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baddyxangel · 3 months ago

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𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒

[ ❤︎ ] - 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐔 & 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐙𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎

౿ - 𝐂𝐖: dubcon-ish, arranged marriage, slight angst, cuckholding, consensual cheating, some softness, exhibitionism, gunplay, creampie, breeding kink, husband!rindou, dom!sanzu, sub!reader, breaking and entering

ଓ ◠ - 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃! 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈!

based on: ♡

a ceremony of opulence and lavish decoration — the only words to describe the immaculate wedding given to you by someone who should’ve been him. it wasn’t fair at all. it wasn’t fair that he got to meet you at the end of the aisle. it wasn’t fair that he got to see you decked in white just for him. he didn’t even want you like sanzu did. all of this just solidified something in his mind that he already knew: rindou haitani was an ungrateful bastard.

it was only by mere chance that you were placed in an arranged marriage with the younger haitani brother. an agreement between your father and bonten couldn’t be settled by regular means. both parties wanted more without giving up anything significant to the other. it wasn’t until your father offered you up on a silver platter to the boss that the deal finally came to a close. of course, mikey was the last person who wanted to marry you (besides the two brothers).

but sanzu? the moment his eyes met the photo shown to the upper echelon, he swore he was head over heels for you. you were just so … stunning. it confused him as to why his fellow bonten heads weren’t jumping at the chance to put a ring on it. mikey was cool with the idea of marriage but it wouldn’t be him to do it. sanzu thinks mikey must have accidentally ate one of his pills after he heard his next words.

“rindou, you’re gonna do it. this isn’t an option so prepare yourself, now.”

rindou. fucking. haitani?! sure, he’s better than his scumbag brother, but he was related to ran so it wasn’t a good choice. why not him? sanzu was bonten’s number two so it didn’t make sense that he would choose the second worst option in the room. the more he thought about you being married to him, the more he wanted to vomit up his lunch. rindou didn’t deserve a pretty girl like you — he’s a known whore fucker. you looked to sweet and innocent to be bound to a man like him.

your father clearly never spared a single yen when it came to you — the decor and attire of both you and your family proved that. god, the way you floated around in that lacy gown made him want to grab you by the waist and spin you around just to see the fabric ruffle. it made you look elegant and sweet: exactly like you. while he was busy admiring your beauty, your now husband was throwing back drinks at the head table with his brother. filthy — he didn’t appreciate you like sanzu would, like sanzu did.

a few hours pass and sanzu was drunk out of his mind at the bar. the newlywed couple had already departed for their honeymoon spot while most of the guests had gone home. not sanzu, though. he was so drunk that he could barely think straight. the only thing that came to mind was you — he wanted you, needed you. he should’ve stopped at two drinks, he knew, but he just couldn’t. he couldn’t help but think about how you were officially out of his reach. you were rindou’s wife now — he’d never have you.

was he fucking you right now?

the question sobers him up fast. just the thought of rindou’s filthy hands on your body makes his blood boil. the haitani brother’s were fucking known for their obscenity — they spread it everywhere they went. even if rindou didn’t want to marry you, you were beautiful so he’d have no problem fucking you like there was no tomorrow. he’d use you for your holes then leave you in the dirt.

that fucking bastard.

how dare he touch you, how dare he fuck his woman? even if you weren’t legally bound to him, you were his since he first laid his eyes on you. and of course, rindou-fucking-haitani had to come in and steal something he oh-so desperately wanted and craved. completely forgetting the fact that it’s mikey that ordered him to marry you, he pulls out his cell phone to find the address of the honeymoon residence he was forced to help him look for.

the lights of the small getaway cottage made the residence glow warmly in the cold evening. despite you being just inside, sanzu stayed outside just to observe if anything was happening. camped outside of a window, he watched as you and rindou laid in the bed sound asleep. though it had been multiple hours since the wedding had passed, you were both fully clothed with no evidence of activity on either of your bodies. your face didn’t look sweaty, there were no marks on your neck, your hair was still pretty like it was at the reception — he released the breath that he didn’t even realize he was holding at the realization that he didn’t fuck you.

sanzu walked from the window to the front door, surprised to find it unlocked. slipping quietly into the house, he gently shut the door behind him and crept around to find the bedroom. he creaked the heavy door open to reveal your slumbering figure next to your “husband”. a large blush crept up his neck and onto his face at how pretty you were even after a long night.

he couldn’t wait to ruin it.

once he was beside the bed, nimble fingers tugged the soft blankets off of your body slowly. “shit,” he slurred at your thin, almost transparent, nightgown. but, you didn’t know he’d be here. you wore this pretty little dress for rindou, not for him. the burning jealousy returns to his chest — it makes him want to scream. at this point, he couldn’t stop himself. sanzu leaned forward and took your lips in a heated kiss.

his teeth tugged at your bottom lip as his eager hands groped every bit of flesh he could get to. he knew you were asleep, he just didn’t care. sanzu wanted you to wake up and see him, to see the man that was so desperate for you. it seemed like the gods heard his prayers because your eyes shot open as soon as his hands wandered up under your nightgown. god, the look on your face once you realized it was your husband’s coworker fondling you in your bed made him groan into your mouth.

it was cute how you tried to shift your body away from him as he made out with you. you tried to pretend you didn’t like how he touched you like he’s missed you but the way your thighs rubbed together at his rough treatment didn’t escape his notice. this. this is exactly what he wanted — the sight of you trapped underneath him and not anyone else. it was absolutely ethereal. the way you smelled, tasted, and felt beneath him is something that was absolutely going to be burned into his memory until the day he died. sanzu was so caught up in his mind that he didn’t notice that the man sleeping next to you was now sitting straight up and staring at him.

“you really are a piece of work, huh, sanzu?”

you both jumped at the sound of rindou’s gravelly voice as he irritably ripped the covers off of himself. he stood up from the bed and stomped across the room to rummage through the black bag sitting on the chair in the corner. breathless, both you and sanzu looked at each other then back at where rindou was searching for … whatever he was looking for. a small click came from where he stood and neither of you realized what it was until it was staring you both in the face.

“you wanna fuck her so bad? then fuck her,” rindou aimed his gun up as he plopped down in the same chair his bag was in. “better make it worth my while, too.”

it’d been hours since sanzu first slipped his fat cock inside of you and rindou still wouldn’t let up. each time you climaxed, he wouldn’t let you or sanzu have a break from each other. his cum had long past dripped out of your fucked out cunt and onto the cotton sheets of the bed. the hot, humid air of the room definitely didn’t help you feel any less exhausted from how sanzu pounding your pussy.

even though sanzu had came at least three times, he was still able to fuck you within an inch of your life to your surprise. his shaky arms just barely held him up above you as he worked his tired body to keep thrusting into you. you never noticed it before but he looked so … beautiful. his flushed face and bubblegum pink hair never looked so gorgeous to you before.

naturally, sanzu thought the exact same thing about you. even before he was balls deep in you, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. but now that he was fucking you? that feeling only intensified by one hundred times. the sweet smell of your sweat intoxicated him — everything about you sent him into a trance. your moans and whimpers when his cock hit your sweet spot was music to his ears. the feeling of your slick walls engulfing his throbbing dick turned his brain to mush and his legs to jelly. fuck, if he died right after having sex with you then he would die a very happy man.

you turned your head to the side to look at rindou who was still staring at the scene in front of him, but his gun was now resting against his thigh instead of being directly pointed at you. when your eyes met, he gave you a sultry smile that had your face burning and eyes averting his. “you like this, doll? you like me watching him fuck you,” he goaded. you gave him a weak nod which had sanzu shooting a glare in his direction. rindou found it cute how jealous sanzu could get — like a little puppy upset that it’s owner is giving another dog attention.

sanzu would’ve opened his mouth to send an insult his way but the clench of your cunt had him turning his attention away from rindou. you were close again and he could feel it. this only served to make him fuck you slower but deeper. he wanted you to feel every inch of him when you creamed around his cock. a part of his mind couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he got you pregnant. just the thought of you having his little pink haired babies sent him into a frenzy to fill you with his cum — to breed you. manicured nails raked down his back as your pussy clenched around him for the last time — tears flooded down your cheeks at the overstimulation raking through your body.

your high-pitched whimpers of his name as you came is what finished him off. one, two, three thrusts and he was filling your tight cunt with what cum he had left in his balls. a strained groan left his throat at the intense feeling of you milking him for everything he was worth. with what strength he had left, he pushed your legs close to your chest in a mating press. sanzu gripped you so hard that you were sure there would be bruises there the next morning. he didn’t release your legs until he was sure that every drop of his seed was deep inside of you.

exhausted, sanzu flopped on top of your body and just rested there. your soft hands reached up to stroke his sweaty hair and he melted into your velvet touches. you both stayed like that for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s presence. so caught up in each other, you didn’t even notice rindou perched above you undoing his belt. the gun that was once in his hand now rested on the nightstand, long forgotten as he worked his pants off.

“you thought that was it? we’ve still got a while until the sun rises and i haven’t fucked my wife yet.”

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