#cw knife implication

[roomwithavoid]

GAAAH I CUT MY FINGER WHILE SLICING BREAD FOR SANDWHICH ;-; I KNEW I SHOULDVE BEEN MORE CAREFUL BUT I DIDNT LISTEN TO MY SUBCONCIOUS…

[duckydeathly]

Don't worry! It's just ketchup =)

[llovelyletterss]

ETHAN + A FNAF SONG? IT'S MORE LIKELY THAN YOU'D THINK! + a bonus

Fake knife and fake blood!

Tw/Cw — Torture mention / implication, kill mention, yk the average yandere tendencies

Ethan grit his teeth as he walked away from his friends house, irritated. Just who do (they) think (they) are.. trying to get with HIS darling? Are (they) insane? that must be it, (they) must be insane. (They) KNOW he likes them, right? (They) should! (They) SHOULD know.. (they) DO know! (They're) just trying to get under his skin, that's right.. just trying.

He slowed down to a stop, staring at the ground with widened eyes and a small smile on his face. '(They) might have succeeded.. but it doesn't matter!' Ethan thought, lifting his head slowly to look over at his friends house again. 'I'll just have to make sure (they) can't ever talk to them again.' A humorless laugh left his mouth, 'ever.'

Picklocking the back-door quietly, Ethan quickly opened the door and closed it as softly as he could, leaning against the wall slightly whenever he heard his "friend" walking near. He quickly took out a rag and a bottle of chloroform from his shoulder bag and stalked towards (their) room.

'This will show them.' He thought, a wide smile on his features as he walked up the steps to (their) room door, his mind racing the closer he got causing him to hesitate. 'what if it wasn't in a romantic sense..?' 'am I really going to kill my friend? What if I get found out?' 'I should control myself, why is it so hard?' 'I could just talk it out with (them)..' 'what am I doing?' '(They) deserve what's about to come, (they're) trying to steal them from me already!' '(They're) being a backstabber, a traitor!' '(They) would've done the same—'

He waited, pressing his ear onto the door and waited, getting silence in return. He grinned, his hand reaching the door and turning it slowly, letting the light from the hallway fill the dark room. 'Oh (Friend name)..' He'd hum in his head, his steps quiet as he makes his way to (their) bedside, already pouring some of the chloroform onto the rag and placing the bottle in his bag afterwards, fixing his mask.

"..Goodnight." He muttered, pinning (their) hands above (their) head and covering (their) mouth and nose with the rag, watching (their) eyes shoot open only to fight to close again.

He smiled in glee as they pass out.

Note > I don't know how ethan would exactly torture someone, so bestie this is all I can do

Tag list (only one person helpme) > @gender-mailman

[ch3rry-wink]

Even in Death

Pairing: curse!Yūta x f!reader

Summary: Yūta has returned from the grave just for you.

CW: +18, murder, yandere Yūta, slight gore, obsession, blood, stalking, smut, co-dependency?

Author's note: I've read a lot of Yūta and I wanted to write something too

If you had known the implications of killing your boyfriend that night, you might have stayed still as he criticized you for that letter you wrote months before you became a couple, confessing your love to someone else. But no, in a fit of rage, you decided to thrust that kitchen knife into his chest and then dispose of his body by burying it in an empty lot.

The police had come a couple of times asking questions; you lied and made sure to lie convincingly. Getting rid of them was easy.

On the other hand, getting rid of the entity that resembled your boyfriend would be a greater challenge. Three days after the incident, a figure began following you, and people seemed oblivious to its presence. A week later, the entity took shape and appeared before you – a more lifeless version of your boyfriend.

He stayed with you, coiling around your body, sometimes feeling him groping you. When he wasn't on top of you, he lurked in corners, staring at you intently. Nights became sleepless, hearing the sound of his nails on any surface, pulling your blankets, and if he was in a good mood, he would cuddle with you.

Mornings were a hassle too; he found it amusing to make you struggle to find your things, causing you to be late.

Nowhere and with no one were you safe. This was confirmed during a night out with friends when the entity whispered a command in your ear, threatening harm if someone didn't remove their hand from you.

Terrified, you left the place, locked yourself in a bathroom, and his head appeared under the cubicle door in an unnatural position.

"Leave me alone!" you screamed. "No, you'll always be mine," the entity slid under and stood in front of you. "You'll never be with anyone else; I'll kill anyone who gets close to you."

"Yūta, I'm sorry."

"Save those crocodile tears," he approached your neck and kissed you from the collarbones to your ear. "You didn't look very sad when you left me in that field that night."

"Is that what you want, a confession? I'll do it if it means you'll leave me alone."

"And how does that benefit me? I want you to be mine like in the old times." The thought disgusted you.

You broke free from his grip and ran to the subway. He followed, sat next to you, and began touching you everywhere. The announcement for your stop came, and you walked through dark streets. Some guys approached, and unsurprisingly, Yūta intervened, blood and guts at your feet – he had always been protective.

Back home, you rushed to the small altar your parents had set up in honor of Yūta. Seeking comfort and wisdom in prayers, but Yūta was guiding the situation, hands on your breasts, lips kissing your neck.

"Fine, we'll be together," he got excited, wanting to take everything right there. He was no longer bound to behave; it was just a hungry curse for you and resentment.

He lunged at you, you fell, and he held your hands over your head. Your eyes filled with tears. Despite the hatred, his love was greater, wanting you to desire him, enjoy him as when he was alive, not just a curse to annoy you.

So he was gentle, caressing your body adoring every part of it with small, slow kisses, gently removing your clothes.

You gasped when his fingers finally found their way to your panties and he moved them aside, made perfect circles over your clit and your hips lifted towards him as you felt his fingers enter, you missed this sensation, missed him - the version that was a sweet guy, not the jealous Yūta, and certainly not the cursed Yūta.

You ran your hands through his hair and pulled him in for a kiss, he followed your kiss and his fingers kept curling inside you at that sensitive spot that would bring you to the end, yet he stopped leaving you there halfway to orgasm.

"I want you to beg for me." He stood up, and you did the same; your body was tense, and you were angry.

"Please, Yūta," you used that little voice when you wanted to manipulate him into doing something; however, it didn't work, and you approached him, following the swirl button shape, and began unbuttoning one by one.

Curse Yūta was very thin, almost bony. You touched his collarbones and then descended to do the same with his ribs, while kissing his neck, your hands reached his pants, and you heard them fall.

He was holding back, playing hard to get, wanting to see how far you'd go to have him. Then, you knelt in front of him, ready to give him pleasure; he stopped you.

"Tell me what you want" he towered over you, looking down with his sad, lifeless eyes.

"I want you... Please don't leave, stay with me, I need you," you said between sobs.

"I wasn't planning on leaving, I'll always be with you," he reassured you. "I promised to always take care of you, but now I need to feel you," he said as you nodded in agreement."

You lay back on the floor, offered yourself to him by spreading your legs, removing your panties and running your fingers through your wet folds indicating you were ready just for him. He directed his cock towards your needy pussy, and began to move it over your folds teasing you and how needy you were. A growl came from his throat as he began to slide his length inch by inch inside you, he stood there not moving just waiting, feeling you throbbing around him. His thrusts were sudden and rough.

"Yūta!" you moaned as he pressed again and again on your g-spot. You squeezed his cock hard, he knew you were close by the way your pussy clenched and sucked on it.

His bony fingers moved to your clit and started rubbing it, your back arched and your pussy contracted on his cock. You felt his cock and balls spasming.

With a firm grip he held your hips and buried himself deeper into you, his fluids filling your pussy until they spilled out; It felt good, like in the old times when he was your boyfriend, because he still was; he was Yūta, a different version but the same Yūta.

Yūta collapsed next to you, you smiled at him your cheeks were flushed and on your eyelashes was still the wetness of some tears.

"I'm sorry" you put your hand on his chest and then moved to kiss him.

"It doesn't matter, we are together now and we will always be together..... You will always be mine."

"Always yours."

[leighsartworks216]

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

Consolidating all of my Astarion fics here (and if I end up writing for anyone else it will also go here)

Main Masterlist

Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

BG3 Discord

Request Rules

Tag List Form

Astarion

I Come With Knives Masterlist - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: This fic deals with a lot of heavy themes. Read warnings on fic

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In The Moonlight - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: Cazador, mentions of past abuse, mentions of biting, vague implications of sex, like one swear

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My Sunshine - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, grief/mourning, blood, injury, fluff and angst, hurt/comfort

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All The Gentle Things - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: referenced blood sucking, touch-starved Astarion

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For A Cuddle? - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: mentions of dried blood, referenced blood drinking and hunting

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My Moonlight (Part 2 to My Sunshine) - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: Blood, grief, anxiety, nausea, hurt/comfort. READ FULL CW LIST ON POST

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I’m All Yours - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

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To Touch You - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: touch-adverse descriptions of touch, hurt/comfort themes

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Designated Lockpicker - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: one swear word, reference to Astarion’s past abuse, mention of a terrible texture, innuendos

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Dear Pet (AO3 only) - Astarion x Tav/Reader

SMUT Warnings: slight overstimulation, choking, blood drinking

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You Hate Me - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of joint pain, insecurity, crying, possibly OOC, clown mention

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The Sound of Being Loved - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: some hurt/comfort, talk about The Scar™️

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In Your Silence (I Hear You) - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: going through a busy crowd, brief mention of nails digging into skin, some sensory issues (touch, sound)

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I’ve Got You - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: fever, fever chills

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I Love You - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

SMUT Warnings: non-descriptive sex, dealing with trauma, swearing, love confessions

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You Have A Type, Don’t You? - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: innuendos, minor references to sex, the barest hints of jealousy

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Shut Up - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: swearing, anger

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Thank You - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: alcohol use

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A Cruel Trick - AO3 - Astarion & gn!Tav

Warnings: angst, blood, injury, references to past abuse, open-ended

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Aftercare - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: barest hint of possible angst if you squint, references to sex

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Get Up Goddamn You! - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: death, blood, heavy angst, swearing, bittersweet ending

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Naked But Safe - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: non-consensual undressing (by Raphael), slight arguing, swearing, trauma

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Every Time I Make Love In Your Shape, You Will Know - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: This fic has themes of rape and non-con. Read warnings on fic

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Fondness In Your Eyes - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

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To Ease Your Burden - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: chronic pain

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You Are Full Of Surprises, Aren’t You? - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: knife throwing, height difference

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What He Wants - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: sex mentions, references to past abuse/trauma, loss of sense of self

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Your Stupid Face - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: self-doubt, bickering

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Don’t You Dare (Make Me Fall In Love With You) - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: manipulation

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You Sweet Thing - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: swearing, scratching

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Kisses Like Prayers - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

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You Can Take It - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

SMUT Warnings: overstimulation, swearing, crying

Fem and Masc versions on AO3

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May I Kiss You? - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

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You Deserve It - AO3 - Astarion x male!Tav/Reader

SMUT Warnings: swearing, references to sexual trauma

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I Want Nothing More - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: making out, grinding, swearing, references to voyeurism

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It's A Gift - AO3 - Astarion x fem!Tav/Reader

Warnings: vague references to trauma, self-doubt, swearing

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Rises The Moon - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: panic attack, ugly crying, protective Astarion

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Are You Sure You Want This? - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: nervousness

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Small Hands - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: references to violence, swearing, hurt/comfort

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I Will Always Choose You - AO3 - Astarion x fem!Tav/Reader (can be read as gn)

Warnings: fear of abandonment, alcohol/drinking, swearing

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Acid - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: descriptions of chemical/acid burns, descriptions of acid burning flesh, swearing, panicking, pain, blindness

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The Rescue of Magistrate Ancunin - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav (can be read as platonic or romantic)

Warnings: blood, injury, fear of death, descriptions of dying, swearing, descriptions of pain, angst

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Song Bird - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: references to sex, anxiety

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[bratphilia]

note ✧.*‎ hiii so this is completely self indulgent so pls enjoy!! gonna post a couple fics that have been on my mind bc i wanna write when i feel inspired to as much as possible, but reqs will be answered!! anyways no thoughts just mr. afton eating it from the back.

pairing ✧.*‎ steve raglan / william afton x reader

cw ✧.*‎ stuck and fucked trope, oral sex (f receiving), knifeplay, knife fucking (insp by this post!), the usual perverted afton, death threats, dub con, slight daddy kink

taglist ✧.*‎ @dilfity @iikyutee @kissingrhi @jen-parker @kathxstuff @papyrus-the-poet @lowballbread @cecelovesbooks @bluebearieally @cybunii @van-van @iamunabletothinkofablogname @1ncidentdropout @ice-echo26 @officially-a-simp13 @all4kura @el-sol-sale-de-nuevo @littlexstarlightx @samlow23

synopsis ✧.*‎ while trying to escape the damn haunted pizzeria after a murderous rabbit comes after you, you stupidly try to leave through the vent, only to get stuck.

helpless (w. afton x reader)

you're running through the maze of halls as fast as your legs can carry you. what you're running from, exactly? some fuckhead in a rabbit suit with a knife, menacingly advancing towards you, with a cold, evil laughter reminiscent of a typical villain. there's no doubt in your mind he's set on killing you, and you can't help but feel like this position was a setup for that anyways. it would make sense why the average security guard stays no longer than a work-week.

you're headed to your office, the only place with a quick, sure-fire exit that leads directly outside the building: the vents. then you'll make a run for it to your car. it was an ambitious plan, yes, but it had to work. it was the only option you had, after all, given that the rabbit came from the normal exit.

you swing the door to the security office wide open and slam it shut behind you, cringing at the loud clang it makes when it hits the door hinges. the last thing you want is to alert that rabbit of your whereabouts. you instantly crouch down in front of the vent and unscrew it frantically with your fingers. when it breaks loose you crawl inside. the front half of your body works its way inside just fine. the bottom half of you? fuck.

it gets stuck half way around your hips, leaving no room to wriggle in or out. you were stuck. really fucking stuck. this couldn't be happening. panic washes over you in waves and you feel your sweat break out even worse. you slide your hands forward, desperate to move forward, but it doesn't help. tears form in your eyes. i'm going to die, you think, in the most humiliating position possible.

right on cue, there's a banging on the door. there's no doubt in your mind it's that fucking rabbit. in no time, the door busts open, slamming against the nearby desk in a loud bang. "there you are — oh. what's this?"

you let out a whimper in fear as you hear him shuffle towards you and bend down close by your body. you hear a shifting for a long period of time, and then his voice sounds much clearer. you realize that it was just a costume, different from the sentient animatronics you've been desperately trying to keep out of your office the past four nights. "i was planning to gut you... but i have a much better idea."

suddenly, a large hand rests on your ass, groping. you gulp, realizing his the implications of his touch. "what should i do with you, hm?" the man contemplates out loud. he pulls his hand away only to smack your ass, making you cry out and wiggle your hips automatically.

"what a whore. enjoying being at my disposal, knowing i could fucking kill you at any moment now," he spits at you. fuck, the heat at your core is becoming more and more noticeable the more he talks in that gruff voice of his threateningly. you scared, really fucking scared, and that somehow made this situation hotter.

his hand leaves your ass, then there's the sound of something metallic being picked up off the floor. "i wouldn't move if i were you," the man muses, "'less you want your sweet little body sliced open." before you can process what he said, he brings something to the seam of your pants and it slices through. your eyes widen and you shriek when you realize it's a blade.

you flatten your hands against the cool metal of the vent, already warming up with your sweat and prolonged stay there. it's even harder not to move when you're scared as fuck and can't grip onto anything. he stops once he's satisfied with the way he cut through your pants, and fuck, how will you get out of here with split pants? if you even make it out of here.

with unbelievable strength, he sticks both his hands inside the slit he made, runs the tips of his fingers teasingly along the center of your panties, before ripping the fabric of your pants even wider. when the sound of the fabric coming apart hits your ears, tears burn at your eyes from the shame of thinking about leaving like this. "beautiful," he comments, "what a fucking sight you make."

you blush at his words. he reaches forward to thumb at you through your panties. he prods his thumb at your hole, dipping in the fabric of your panties inside. you can't help but moan quietly. much to your dismay, he notices with a low chuckle. "like i said, absolute whore." you whimper at that. absolute whore. a tear slips down your face.

you forget all about that when he leans forward and presses a kiss to your panties. he lewdly inhales your scent, rubbing his nose against your panties before pressing another kiss there. fuck. you're whimpering uncontrollably. he's such a pervert; you should be embarrassed, but in your undeniable sex-craving haze, all you want him to do is pull your panties to the side and ravage you.

like you manifested it or something, he does just that. except he stretches your panties and the blade returns, slicing through the useless fabric. he lets out a low whistle at your supposedly shiny slick. "just as i thought. needy little slut, so desperate for daddy's touch."

"mhm," you murmur, resting your head down on your hands. you're so fucking horny at this point, that you want to be at the mercy of your captor.

"mhm," he parrots back to you. his face moves forward to slowly lick a stripe up your cunt.

"oh fuck," you mumble, shaking. he repeats the action, laughing slightly at your reaction while doing so. his hands come forward to part your lips, diving in fully. he shakes his face against your cunt and you feel the tickling sensation of a beard there, making you jolt.

the obscene noises he makes add to your wetness. he slurps around, suctioning his lips all over. he leaves no place untouched. he quickly smacks kisses against your clit before tongue-fucking your sobbing hole. he flicks his insanely long and tongue inside of you. you're crying and babbling incoherent words as he tortures you.

you're so close already. the way he alternates between sucking your bud into his mothing and then fucking into your hole is too much. thinking about the fact that you're completely at his mercy, nothing to grip on to, clawing desperately at the metal of the vent, practically tips you over the edge alone. just as you feel the pulse of your cunt quicken—

it's all over too soon. he removes his tongue and you cry out into the vent frustratingly, ignoring the way your voice bounces off the walls. he rests his head against your ass and listens to you sob and then coos, "aww, poor baby. i almost feel bad."

"please," you cry softly, tears running down your face.

"gonna have to be more specific, sweet thing, 'm not a mind reader, y'know." but you can't. you can't bring yourself to say you want him to fucking smother his face in your cunt. it's too embarrassing to utter, even after you shamelessly backed into his face.

he clicks his tongue. "no? well, that's a shame. if you can't say it, guess i'll just do whatever i want with you."

before you can question what the hell that means, something is shoved inside of you. not his cock, much to your dismay, but something blunt, something that stretches you out. you realize, the only thing it could possibly be, that fucking knife.

he slides it in and out, laughing at your reactions. fuck, he's so fucking cruel. your fear only adds to your arousal, and you're soaking the stick of his knife. you hate to admit it, but this probably the second best thing to his cock.

before you know it, you're drenching his knife with your orgasm. you cry out desperately into the vent. the way it echoes into the cavern is music to his ears. you slam your hands against the vent and shake uncontrollably. he slowly pulls the knife away, intentionally torturing you as you hiccup in sobs. you're fucked out already, in a state of absolute post-sex haze.

he presses a surprisingly soft kiss against one globe of your ass and rubs on it. as you calm down, he's cooing at you again, whispering about how you're such a good girl for him, did so well.

[oh-katsuki]

a little zombie apocalypse katsuki!au drabble. my twd rewatch is giving me many thoughts...

cw: apocalypse au, reader is alone, mentions of death, implications of child death, grief mentions, reader is described as a "little thing" but that's more just the way katsuki talks, katsuki is a little gruff but he means well, guns, weapons, general apocalypse thoughts, mentions of zombies but we follow the "never call them a zombie" rule, katsuki and reader meeting for the first time, etc

the light of your fire is dim, embers burning low as you sit in a foldable chair beside it. you've got a metal spatula in your hand. you're not sure why you grabbed it when things went to shit, but panic does weird things to the mind. this, along with a few other oddities, are all you managed to take from your house when the world fell to ruin. everything else are things scavenged along the way or from people you'd met, joined, and lost.

the night is near silent and trees creak and crack like the hulls of great ships under heavy pressure, but the birds don't sing and nothing in the crowded wood you're taking shelter in makes a sound. well, except for you and the gentle crackle of your fire.

your head is on a swivel. it has been for months. ever since the outbreak, ever since the dead rose and began consuming and infecting the living, you've kept watch. a paranoid, never ending cycle that you suppose—if left on your own—will burn itself out. you swallow thick and return your attention to the fire, watching the tree line just in front of you for any hint of movement or monsters.

a branch cracks just behind you. a swift sound, followed by rapid footsteps. you stand, quickly turning your head, only to see a a figure a few feet away from you. they move quickly and the dancing light of the fire obscures their features from view. their eyes, most importantly. you can always tell if someone is dead or alive based on their eyes. in this light, should this stranger have that milky white film over them, you wouldn't be able to tell.

you make a small noise, something between a whimper and a shout, as the person comes to a stop in front of you and holds a gun directly between your eyes. the living. this person is alive. you're not sure at this point if encountering one of the dead would have been worse.

"drop your weapon," he says in a hurried voice. it's aggressive and threatening. it comes from deep in his chest.

you raise your shaky hands to your head quickly at the order, screwing your eyes shut as if looking in theirs would be a cause for attack.

"i-it's not a weapon!" you shout, voice cracking. "it's- it's a sp-spatula. it's a spatula."

the words are rushed and heavy, fear seizing your chest as you look down the barrel of the gun. the firelight glints off of it and you can make out the person behind the barrel's features. he's big, blonde under the grime, you think. a man. not the best thing to encounter alone at night in times like these.

you see him hesitate for a moment, eyes darting between you and the silver kitchen item in your hand. you drop it quickly.

"do you have a weapon on you?" he questions, voice a little less urgent.

you shake your head in response and then shakily look beside the chair. there's a knife there and a pistol with no bullets. you're a poor shot and you'd run out of ammo the previous week. he glances to it, the gun still raised at you, and sidesteps to grab them. when he does, he cautiously lowers the weapon. you start to lower your trembling hands.

then, as if struck by some realization, the man stomps towards the fire and you jump as he does.

"the fuck are you doing lighting a fire?" he says angrily. "those things may be dead, but they can still fuckin' see. that's a good way to get yourself killed."

he stomps out the fire as he talks, urgently stamping out what's left of the low-burning logs.

"i- i didn't think there were many in the area," you justify, furrowing your eyebrows as you step away from him.

"and that's a risk you want to take?" he says indignantly. you wonder briefly what business he has worrying about you.

"what do you want?" you snap, "my food? weapons? life? what is it?"

the man scoffs, "jesus, none of that."

you narrow your eyes and take a step back.

"not all people who camp out in the woods are good," he says. "but i sure as shit didn't expect to find some little thing like you alone lighting a damn fire. stupid."

"there were more," you say indignantly, like somehow that makes it better. "force of habit, i guess."

the man pauses for a moment as understanding passes between the two of you. it's a relatable feeling. everyone has lost someone now. you just happened to lose everyone.

"got a name?" he asks.

you hesitate in giving it to him before deciding what it could hurt. the man nods as if he likes the sound of it.

"i'm katsuki," he furrows his eyebrows. "you're alone?"

you nod, swallowing down the grief that pushes at your throat.

"wasn't always," you respond, "but yeah. now i am."

he nods his understanding.

"come with me."

"where?" you say instinctively, a defensive edge to your voice. katsuki looks at you like your stupid, or maybe it's pity, like you're a wounded animal. probably both.

"where the fuck do you think?" he retorts. "we've got a camp a little ways from here. i saw your fire from one of the watch posts we have stationed around the place."

you look at him like he's a little crazy for even thinking to bring you there.

he scoffs and rolls his head over his shoulder. "look, we've got men and women," then he pauses, "used to have children. we're not gonna hurt you. world's gone to shit, do you really wanna keep at it alone?"

he's probably right. you've been alone for weeks now, exhausted for longer, and though your common sense tells you not to go off with a strange man in this kind of world, the promise of community is far too tempting. you nod and glance back to your camp. a measly collection of supplies.

"we'll come back for it when it's light," he says. "i don't know about you, but i'd rather not spend longer in these dark ass woods than i have to."

"okay," you say. the presence of another person both sets you on edge and makes you feel the fatigue even more. a gun's barrel on your nose followed by the promise of safety and you're going with him? you must be stupider than a horror movie protagonist. "do you take in a lot of strays?"

katsuki looks over his shoulder and you think you see him smile a little at the phrase.

"if that's what you want to call it," he says begrudgingly. "me less than the rest." then, with a softer tone of voice, barely noticeable with the quiet whisper you both have been speaking at. "i'm sure the others won't mind one more."

[silveryclear]

STNAF Coraline AU ch.5

MDNI ALL CONTENT REGARDING STNAF IS 18+ AND SO IS THIS BLOG

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

CW: Sexual Content, Knife play (with scissors), Dry Humping, Thigh Ridding, Reader wears lingerie but gender is not specified, Nipple Worship, Penetration, Fingering, Versatile, Soft/Rough Sex, Creampie

A/N: I severely underestimated just how long the sex scene ended up being (I don’t think any of you are complaining lmao) so consider this the precursor— chapter 5.1, if you will~

Chapter 5

You make your way into the same bedroom you just left behind. But you knew it was different, you could sense that this was the same place you thought you could only see in your dreams.

Your mind could barely make sense of this, too distraught to focus on the implications of this world as you call out to the person you know that will comfort you.

Other Friend almost immediately appears, making his way to you. His eyebrows furrow, button eyes gazing at your disheveled state on the floor. You feel Other Friend’s strong arms embrace your body, picking you up and placing you on the bed as he sits by your side.

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Other Friend’s sweet voice lulled you into a sense of comfort you so desperately needed.

You slowly raise your head, your teary eyes gazing into his concerned button ones. “H-He… He didn’t come…” You hiccup, wiping your tears. “He p-promised he would! Why didn’t he come?!”

“Shhh… I’m so sorry, baby… You don’t deserve this.” Other Friend’s arms embrace you once again as you sob into his chest.

You let yourself be comforted by your Other Friend, clinging onto him tightly as he cradled you on the bed. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear. However, words aren’t enough to relieve the pain of your broken heart. You wanted to feel loved. You needed it— craved it at this exact moment.

“Friend… I need you.” You whimper softly, clutching his shirt tightly.

“I’m right here baby…” He coos softly, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Nooo…” You whine and press your body against his, making him blush and raise his eyebrows in surprise. “I need you.”

Other Friend tenses once it dawns on him. Your desperate and disheveled state igniting a part of him that he worked hard to conceal from you. He swallows, his expression darkening as his lust awakens.

In your current disarrayed mind, it made absolute sense to press your lips against Other Friend’s ones, to push him onto his back as you straddle his hips, kissing him feverishly. Other Friend has barely any time to the situation, only to act on instinct as this was the thing he’s been craving for the most ever since you set foot into his domain. You may not be kissing him for the right reasons, but in his eyes, you are exactly where you were always meant to be.

“Fuck, sweetheart…” He groans into your lips, biting your lower lip and pulling away softly just to grip you by your waist and press you closer, wanting to feel your body. “you’re going to be the death of me…” He murmurs, his words ringing true in your ears. He claims your lips once again.

He kissed you with passion and fervor, your warm breaths mixing with each other as well as the soft moans and grunts you both let out as your bodies grind in need of friction.

Out of nowhere, Other Friend pulls out a pair of sharp scissors and makes large cuts along your clothing, startling you momentarily. He only grins at your slightly frightened state and pecks your lips as he continues to discard the the pieces of cloth. “You’re not going to be needing this…” He whispers, the cool steel tip of the scissors lightly grazing your skin, making you shiver in fear and arousal.

You are left in your underwear and you blush with embarrassment at the pieces you were wearing. Other Friend remains silent for a few seconds, taking in the intricate designs and details and how they make every curve, bump and roll appear even more delectable. His breathing grows ragged, his button eyes darkening as a sense of jealousy comes over him, but quickly disappears as he remembers that you are begging him to make you feel good, not his doppelgänger.

“These, however, are too pretty to destroy~” He whispers against the skin of your shoulder as he trails hot, wet kisses down your chest. He licks your nipples through the sheer fabric and you gasp out in pleasure, gripping his shoulders.

“I’m gonna make you feel good, okay, sweetheart?” He murmurs, looking up at you as his long tongue swirls and dances along your perked nipples.

“Nngh… yes, please…” You whisper, your voice hoarse and your eyes and cheeks puffy from your crying. This only turns him on more.

He grips your waist tighter and grinds your hips against his thigh, making you tremble and moan from the friction on your sex.

“Hump my thigh, baby… I wanna see how you’ll get off on my cock.”

You whimper at his words as you move your hips along his thigh, holding onto his shoulders as you feel the pleasurable sensations travel your body. You close your eyes and arch your back, as if making a show out of yourself for him— to show him how much you really want him.

Other Friend could only watch in awe as you got yourself off on his thigh, his breathing labored as your wet arousal made a mess of your underwear and his clothed thigh. He placed his hand on the nape of your neck and brought you closer, his nose brushing against your neck as he inhaled your intoxicating scent. You shivered and rutted faster.

Other Friend chuckles at your desperation. “That’s it sweetheart… use me… I’m yours~” He groans, his hot breath fanning your ear. His lips delve into the soft skin of your neck and leaves a trail of kisses and gentle bites. He bounces his thigh gently, gazing in awe as your jaw falls slack and your eyes widen— breathy sounds of pleasure escape your lips as the movement sends vibrations of ecstasy from your groin straight into your brain and the rest of your already agitated body.

“Hhghnn… mine…” You let out a strained moan, your mind and body on autopilot as you relinquish yourself to the pleasure. The sounds of your needy and possessive whines along with the squelching and rutting of fabrics almost makes him cum in his pants. His hard cock was already straining against the clothing, and the movement of your hips made the brush of his cock against his pants just the more sensitive.

He stifles a moan, his breathing ragged as he shuts his eyes. His dick dripping enough pre cum to stain through his pants. A particularly whiny moan of yours snaps his button eyes open as he lets out a low growl, sounding possessive and desperate. You shiver in delight as your hips stutter slightly before picking up the pace.

Other Friend chuckles darkly as he conjures a bottle of lube out of thin air and pulls your underwear aside. “Do you like this, baby~?” He growls lowly, his voice laced with lust. You nod your head enthusiastically, grinding you hips harder. “You want me to finger you good and deep?”

You’re barely given any room to respond before you feel Other Friend’s cold, slimy fingers prod at your hole, making you gasp and arch your back at the sensation. “F-Friend… ahhhh~!” You groan and whine when you feel your best friends long fingers delve deeper and pump shallowly. You stop humping his thigh and begin to ride his hand instead, pressing and grinding your sex onto the palm of his hand while two fingers scissor and stretch out your hole in preparation for what’s to come.

“My sweetheart’s so needy~” He giggles and inserts another finger just to see you writhe and squirm above him. “You wanna ride me, yeah? You wanna jump on your best friend’s cock?” He teases you with a sadistic grin on his face as he pumps his fingers faster and deeper, wet, squelching sounds echoing the room along with your desperate moans.

“Yes! Yes I wanna!” You cry out, tears brimming the corner of your eyes from the intense pleasure burning within your lower body. “Please… I need you!”

“F-Fuck…” Other Friend breathes out, a growl sounding from deep within his throat from your unexpected pleading. This only fueled his obsession and need for you even more as he couldn’t wait to see you bounce on his cock.

He quickly unbuckles his belt and lowers his pants and boxers, his large dick bobbing free. His cockhead was red and weeping with arousal, his length twitching like crazy just from having you stare at it with wide eyes with slight fear, but mostly desire. Other Friend grins and slowly takes his fingers out of your pulsating hole, making you whine from the emptiness. With the same lubrication and slick, he pumps his cock with slow, languid thrusts, smearing his precum and covering his throbbing cock with your juices.

You squirm with anticipation, your hips bucking against nothing as you imagine just how full Other Friend’s cock will make you feel.

“Come on, baby…” He smirks, his voice a seductive purr. “Ride me like you mean it~”

You don’t need to be told twice before you’re straddling his hips and gently lowering yourself onto his thick cock. You hiss and groan slightly as you feel his girth stretch you out further than his fingers did. Other Friend grips your hips, a strangled moan making past his lips as he feels your warm, wet heat slowly envelope him. He takes a sharp intake of breath once he feels you raise and lower yourself at a slow pace, getting accustomed to his size.

“Mmm… so big…” you moan absentmindedly as you continue to grind your hips, not noticing Other Friend’s slacked jaw as he gazes at you like a deity. His button eyes glaze over with primal lust and as he leans closer to beg into your ear.

“C-Can I fuck you? Please baby… you feel too good… let me make you feel good please baby please…” He murmurs, nipping and sucking on your ear.

As soon as you nod, Other Friend grips your hips tighter and makes a few deep, tentative thrusts that left you reeling and holding onto his shoulders for support. Once you manage to catch your breath, his gentle thrusts become an assault to your hole as he pounds into you like a beast in heat.

“F-Friend..! Hhhh… hahhh…” You moan lewdly as he rams his cock from underneath you, his button eyes unwavering from you.

Other Friend grunts with every thrust, his pace only quickening once his cockhead brushes against the part that has you arching your back and moaning from ecstasy.

“Yes… yes! Oh god…”

“Fuck, sweetheart… I can feel you clenching around me…” He grunts, keeping a steady pace as he fucks you fast and deep. “You like it when I fuck you like this, huh? Tell me how much you want me…”

“I want you, Friend… I want you so bad..!” You cry out, bouncing on his cock like your life depended on it.

He groans, gripping your hips impossibly tighter as he feels the pleasure slowly build up within him. “Fuck… you feel too good baby… I’m about to cum…” He murmurs in a low, breathy tone.

“M-Me too…” You whimper softly, leaning forward and wrapping your arms around his neck as he keeps thrusting into you with fervor. “I… I want it… I want your cum…”

His hips stutter as soon as you said those words. He quickly recovers and becomes more vocal, rutting deeper and faster as his breath came out in quick pants. “Mine… you’re mine…” He growls lowly as he lines his cock to hit your weak spot. “Mine to keep… mine to claim…”

“Please please please please…” You keep chanting and whining desperately.

“Fuck baby, I’m cumming…!” Other Friend moans hoarsely as he spurts ribbons upon ribbons of hot cum inside of you, filling you to the brim with his seed. As soon as you feel him release, you come undone on his cock, shaking and writhing above him as he fucks his cum deeper with a few particularly harsh thrusts that have you seeing stars.

“Ahhhh… hahhhhh… Friend…” you moan into his neck as your body slumped on top of his, twitching from the aftershocks of pleasure.

“I’ve got you baby…” He kisses your forehead and holds you tightly against him. “I’ve got you…”

Slowly, drowsiness begins to creep into your body. Your breathing evens out and you rest your head on Other Friend’s shoulder, relaxing in his embrace. In your blissed out state, you barely remember the reason why you sought Other Friend’s comfort, but that barely matters now as he wraps his arms around you and gently rocks you to sleep.

Chapter 6

[whumpsoda]

WSFSP - A is for Apology

For the first prompt for this month’s event Alphabet of Whump by @alphabetofwhump!! Who knows how many of these I’ll do, I just loved the prompts!

Masterlist

cw: pet whump, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, Institutionalized slavery, conditioned whumpees, implications of past abuse, recovering whumpees

——————

When Prince had brought up the prospect of joining the others for lunch, which in turn obviously meant leaving the two’s shared room, Mutt had panicked, instantly shooting him down with a shake of the head.

In the end Prince left anyway - as if he even needed to listen to Mutt in the first place - Mutt obediently and cautiously following in suit. Keeping his chest puffed and his scowl solid, Mutt ensured an intimidating presence.

It didn’t last long.

The glass, formerly halfway empty, was now a shatter of slick, knife sharp shards scattered across the wood of the kitchen. It happened so quickly Mutt couldn’t so much as tell how he broke it, too caught up in his own world to notice, only sure that it was his fault. He always was humiliatingly clumsy.

And everyone stared daggers at him, the room falling eerily silent, as if Mutt was under a blinding spotlight. The sting of their gazes made him cower, curling in on himself as a pounding sensation of horror began. nearly enough to get him to drop to his knees and beg had he not been paralyzed with fear.

“I-,” Should he have spoken, spilling meaningless apologies that could never overshadow the mess he had made? Should he have stayed silent, and be reprimanded for thinking something like him wouldn’t need to grovel? Mutt took a shaking breath, clenching his fists. “I’m- I- I’m sorry-,”

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Isaac stole a swift step forward, far away enough not to step into anything that may cut her, hands out as if to stabilize him from feet away. “Just a glass. An accident.”

She said it so reassuringly, but Mutt was well aware that all of his accidents had piled up since he’d gotten to this strange place, and now he was finally going to be punished for every single little thing. How could they not be completely fed up with him?

Sniveling back ugly tears, Mutt choked out more apologies, biting at his quivering lip. “I- I, um, I’m sorry-,” his hands were trembling - no, his whole body was.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. No one’s mad, nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.” Her voice wavered with a slight of urgency, each wary of how the other might react. “You can cry if you need to, I understand. Just- look at me, okay, can you do that?”

“Y- yes, yes ma’am.” Doing exactly as ordered, all the while holding back his overflowing emotions, Mutt met her glimmering brown eyes. Leaning toward her, almost enraptured by her stare, he looked to Isaac for any sort of guidance.

“Take some nice, deep breaths. In, and out. In… and out. In… and out.” She guided him along as he obeyed, keeping a wave of sobs at bay all the while calming the drumming beat in his heart. “Better?”

Salty tears flooded his gaze as he stumbled backward, bumping into Prince who caught him by the arms. “Yes, yes, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-,” he always was a crybaby, as his masted had deemed him.

He hadn’t even noticed how long it had been without a punishment until then, he hadn’t been grateful for it. They were going to make him pay. Master always did.

She shook her head, just by a bit, curls shaking along with the movement. “Accidents happen, we all make them. You’re all good, man. Swear on it.”

His vision flickered to a woman - Edith Prince had called her - bumbling in front of him with a tall broom as she got right to work cleaning up Mutt’s mess.

He reached out for her. “Can- I can help, please-,”

A hand, absentmindedly and gently placed to Mutt’s arm, was soft with a slightly cool touch. Unfamiliar it was, but he didn’t realize until then how terribly he craved it. “Oh no, my dear. You have no shoes on. You might step on something and hurt yourself.”

“But, but, please-,”

“Isaac will help you to the other room, okay honey? Me and Oscar will clean this up, no problem.” She had this smile that bubbled a sugary warmth in his belly, even through the horror running about his mind. “Don’t even worry about it.”

Shaking his head, Mutt insisted, begging to be of service, to try even the slightest to make up for himself. “I can help, I can do anything, please.”

Swiftly and carefully Isaac cut between them, with a soft force stealing Mutt away from the kitchen, tears running down his flushed cheeks. “Come with me, okay? We’re just going to go over here by the couch.” She took him by the hand, her far smaller fingers curling over his as Mutt took Prince’s hand in his other, pulling the pet to his guard’s side.

Mutt whimpered, realization striking him hard in his knotted stomach as he stole a glance outside. “Do- do I… have to go in the dog house?” He was sure it was coming, positive there was no way they would let him off scott free for his undeniable insolence.

“Dog house?” Isaac took a piece of his tear stained hair, gently brushing it back into place. “Is that like… that’s a punishment, yes?”

“Uh, uh huh.” He sniveled, wiping one eye with a burly fist.

Her warmth hardened, expression going cold. “No. No, never ever, I promise you. There’s no such thing as that here - not even punishments.”

“No… punishments?” The idea was completely foreign to both him and Prince, the other pet quietly chiming in with his own confusion of the concept.

“Nope. You will never be punished, disciplined, or anything else your owner may have called it ever again and that’s final.” Isaac stated, sternly. “That goes for the both of you.”

“B- but-,”

“Never.”

“What if-,”

“Hey.” Isaac stopped the two, putting both of her outstretched pinky fingers to them. “Never. No what ifs, no buts. Pinkie promise.”

Prince carefully interlocked his own finger with hers, letting out the faintest of a chuckle as Mutt watched in confusion.

“It’s like a regular promise, just better. One for both of you.” Isaac whispered to him, and he, drying his face with his shirt, followed along with Prince. “Good.”

No punishments.

That’s what she said at least, and Mutt was inclined to believe her.

——————

Masterlist

Taglist - @softvampirewhump @ivymyers @taterswhump @octopus-reactivated @tippytappytyping

@distracted-obsessions @starfields08000 @bitchaknso @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @scoundrelwithboba

@whumped-by-glitter @whumpering-heights @arlin-always-writing @bilightningwhumper

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[arealphrooblem]

A Good Roommate Is Hard To Find Part 2

I was blown away by the response to something I banged out without much thought.! I've received several asks about continuing this so here is part two! Thank you everyone!

Synopsis: Civilian has harbored a secret crush on his roommate for a long time, only to find out that said roommate is the newest villain on the scene during a robbery at his job.

Part one here

CW: named characters (juggling two unnamed male characters pronoun wise was just a huge headache)

“Salt?”

Ben stared at his roommate from across their tiny kitchen table. Two bowls of soup lay before each of them, accompanied by folded napkins and spoons and glasses of water. The formality instantly raised his hackles. Whatever happened to eating on the couch while they watched stupid youtube prank videos?

Fear and anger twisted and blended into each other until he didn’t know what was responsible for the maelstrom in his chest that the hot shower did nothing to calm down.

“How long?” he said instead.

It was the question that plagued him the most. Did this start before they met? Had Ben lived with a stranger in a mask this whole time? Or did it start later? Did something horrible happen to make Adam desperate enough to try villainy and could Ben have prevented it?

“How long has salt been around?” Adam asked blithely. “I don’t know. Probably at least a thousand years or more. Did the Romans use salt? You’re the history nerd, not me.”

“Don’t mock me,” Ben snapped. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“Do you really want to know?”

What fucking kind of question was that? But Adam tilted his head to the side, the look in his eyes deadly serious.

“Because if I tell you,” he continued, “that could implicate you. Once you know, you can’t un-know. And Heroes have ways of making you talk. There’s no way they’d believe you didn’t help me all this time.”

So consumed with the fear of Adam himself, Ben never thought to be concerned with anyone else. Now a new fear dug its roots into him.

“There’s no way they’d believe it now,” he said, heart thudding again.

“They would if you were genuinely clueless.”

Or if I turned you in Ben thought. That was the other thought that had plagued him the last few days.

Now that he knew, what was he supposed to do about it?

“But I don’t intend on you talking to anyone about this,” Adam added.

Again, Ben’s hackles raised at the certainty in Adam’s voice. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

“How would you stop me?”

He didn’t mean it as a taunt. He knew Adam was dangerous, but not how. Did Adam have powers or weapons? What plans did he have for Ben?

“You don’t want the answer to that question either,” Adam replied softly. “But know that I would, if I had to. I’m capable of anything when I know it’s my best option.”

The lump was back in Ben’s throat, making it hard to swallow. He could stomach the lying, even understand it a little. How do you tell your roommate that you’re the one behind all the recent robberies and arson?

 And Ben could handle the crimes, for the most part. This city ate people alive and anyone not obscenely wealthy had one bad accident standing between themselves and homelessness.  So far Adam’s crew had only targeted places  with large payouts. They took hostages when necessary but had no casualties so far.

But the threats? The knife at his throat? The lack of hesitation before launching to dark promises of violence hurt Ben the most. Even without his stupid crush, they had become friends the last three years. Their lives had become enmeshed with each other’s in a domestic intimacy that went beyond two people who simply shared a space.

 Adam knew his allergies and what restaurants to avoid because of it. He knew Ben’s parents and siblings. He knew Ben’s failed dreams and useless history degree. They shared shampoo and lonely holiday dinners and a Netflix account.

Ben thought he knew Adam the same way. But now all that had unraveled, and though he never harbored the hope that Adam could return his affections, seeing how easily Adam could threaten his life as if Ben never meant anything to him . . .

The knife would hurt less.

“What . . .” Ben swallowed again, his voice coming out choked. “What do you want me to do? I can move out. Leave the city.”

Adam’s eyebrows shot up. “Leave? You can’t leave!”

 Hope rose ever so slightly without Ben’s permission. But when had it ever listened in the first place?

“I can’t afford this apartment without you.”

And there it went, dashed on the rocks.

“Haven’t you been . . .earning extra income,” Ben asked hesitantly.

“Not enough to cover your portion of everything for more than a month or two. Besides . . .I only get a small percentage of the cut. I need you.”

Boy, would Ben have loved to hear that in literally any other circumstance.

“But I’m a liability now,” he protested.

“Are you?”

Adam got a certain look in his eye anytime they played strategy games. It didn’t matter what kind — Among Us, Monopoly, chess, Street Fighter. His mind always worked five steps ahead, thinking of contingency plans for contingency plans, and Ben knew when that glint showed up in Adam’s eye, he was about to lose. That he had lost long before he even realized it.

“Here’s the way I see it.” Adam leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “You hate living with your parents and you don’t want to leave the city. I can’t leave because I’m . . .in the middle of things. If either of us were to move out, we’d both have to find another roommate and the odds of us finding people that work as well with us as we do with each other is impossible. We would both be miserable.”

“You think I would be more miserable with a person who didn’t threaten me with a knife?” Ben asked.

And the answer to that question was yes, but Adam didn’t have to know that.

“What if they never turn the light on when they piss at night and get it all over the toilet?” Adam countered. “What if they eat the last of all your snacks or move their obnoxious girlfriend in or never empty the dishwasher before sticking their dirty dishes in?”

Objectively speaking, Ben would rather have a knife to his throat one time than deal with any of those on a constant basis.

“We know how to live with each other. We’ve developed a routine that has worked for years. This doesn’t have to change anything. It’s not like I haven’t been doing this for months while you had no clue anyway.”

“You will never trust me not to snitch,” said Ben.

“If I’m in jail, then how are you going to still live here with any kind of sanity? Better yet — if I’m thrown in prison because you ran your mouth, how are you going to be safe from retaliation from my boss or crew members? How are you going to avoid your own prison sentence for being an accessory? Is it worth your life to put me away?”

That last question hit him hard. He knew it was cowardly and stupid beyond measure, but he couldn’t bear the thought of blowing up the little life he’d carved for himself here. It didn’t amount to much, especially to his parents, but he loved it all the same.

“No,” he told Adam softly. “It’s not worth it.”

He loved his life and he loved Adam and he loved his life because of Adam and it all fed into each other like one writhing ouroboros.

Adam leaned back again, looking devastatingly smug. “I didn’t think so.”

“So . . .what now?” Ben bit at his lower lip, the nervous tell that always gave him away in poker.  “What do you want me to do?”

“Eat your soup for starters.” Adam nodded at the bowl in front of Ben. “And then give me your phone.”

“My phone? What do you want with my phone?”

Adam leveled a flat look over the table. A look he shot at Ben frequently over the years when Ben made a particularly bad pun. He used to love making Adam give him that look. Now it felt tainted with an undercurrent of a threat.

“Eat your soup, Ben.”

Ben ate his soup. It came out great, almost as if they had just ordered it from the restaurant that inspired it. Adam didn’t cook often, but when it did it outshone Ben’s rudimentary skills. And when they both finished, Ben cleared the table, almost on autopilot, because the person who didn’t cook did the dishes. It was one of the first routines they established.

Usually Ben hated washing dishes which was why he volunteered to make dinner so often. Tonight however it offered a soothing distraction, much more effective than the shower Adam insisted he take. Right up until he felt Adam’s hands on his thighs, sliding up to the edge of his front pocket.

“What are you doing?” he yelped, dropping the spoon with a clatter.

“Looking for your phone.” Adam’s voice pressed right against the shell of Ben’s ear.

His fingers wriggled their way into the pocket, tight in old jeans Ben should have thrown out when he graduated. His breath stuttered in his chest at the intrusion, which lasted only a few seconds, and at the triumphant snort against his ear when Adam slipped the phone out.

He swallowed thickly, throat tight for a very different reason than before. Adam stepped back, the heat of him gone just as suddenly as it appeared. A glance over his shoulder showed Adam leaning against the stove, brow furrowed as he typed in Ben’s password. Because of course Ben had given it to him, thoughtlessly, for vague future emergencies.

“What are you doing to it?” he asked, nerves fluttering in the pit of  his stomach. What if he didn’t get it back?

“Precautionary measures,” Adam replied distractedly. “I’ll give it back in the morning.”

“The morning?”

He spun around, soap dripping from his hands. Adam leveled another flat look at him.

“Do you want this to work or should I get another knife?” he said.

The blood drained from Ben’s face. His eyes darted over to the knife block, sitting just inches away from Adam’s hip. There was no way he could reach it in time — not that it would matter if he could. Clumsy and inexperienced, he’d only hurt himself and save Adam the trouble.

“I just . . .want to know what’s happening,” he said, eyes prickling for the second time that night, goddamn it. “You don’t have to keep threatening me.”

The cognitive dissonance of having Adam so carelessly threaten him, pulling a knife on him — Adam, his best friend that he lived with for years — felt like it could split his head apart. Life was starting to not feel real anymore, like he was in a video game instead. Or a nightmare.

Adam’s expression flickered, looking almost stricken, before Ben turned away. He rinsed what was left of the suds from his hands and then turned the water off.

“I’m going to bed,” he said, even though it was barely dark. “Keep the phone.”

Then he walked straight down the back hall to his bedroom. Adam called his name, almost too softly to hear, but Ben ignored him and shut the door.

He locked it too, for good measure. Not that it mattered. Sleep did not accompany him much that night.

Part Three

[evita-shelby]

Juli! For your celebration I just had an idea 🤭

Can I request a story with this idea?

🥖 🔪 Eva is pissed at Tommy (whatever you want) and for some reason Tommy finds it amusing so she first throws him a baguette and then she threatens to throw a knife next if he doesn’t stop.

Omg i love this, thanks for sending the request Mar 💕

The Pond

Cute Eva x Tommy fic set after s2

Cw: nudity, implications of sex, pregnancy mood swings

She’s adorable in her anger, well, now that she’s out of sorts because of the baby and everything is going great.

They take a picnic in the new house, their house boasting of gardens and woods as far as the eye could see. It had started great, them pretending to be just another dime a dozen young couple having a peaceful time enjoying a hot summer in a cool pond.

Tommy had said he was going for a swim and stripped out of his clothes as he did when he and his brothers would steal away with the other boys to the Cut. This his wife knew and he assumed she knew they swam in the nude to avoid having to wear wet briefs under the trousers they could barely afford.

“Tommy, someone could see you!” she had said as he tossed his underwear at her with a wink.

“Then they’ll know how I stole you away from all the other young men.” He was proud of his cock, what man wouldn’t be? Besides no one would come here and if Eva was game, he could make use of the privacy and of his cock in a mutually beneficial way.

“Really ,Tommy?” she tears a chunk of the baguette in her hands and tosses it his head in annoyance.

His swim is forgotten at this new idea he’s gotten. He could swim later, there was plenty of time for that.

They have all the time of the world now.

“Yeah, you look so beautiful all fat with our baby, I can’t even look at you without wanting to fuck you, Mrs. Shelby.” He laughs and she rolls her eyes at his words.

“Tommy if you weren’t my husband, I would’ve stabbed you for calling me fat.” His witch admits in between kisses.

[slutforsnow]

His Sunflower

CHAPTER 6 BABY

I'm on a roll 🕺

Tw/CW: drugging, sexual implications, mentions of violence, murder mention, scars, blackout, vomit

On the way to Clemensia's party, Sunni kept the tension in the car light by rambling about whatever was running through her pretty little head. Talking about anything from art, to video games, to food. Sej and Coryo didn't mind, as it kept them distracted. They occasionally engaged in conversation with Sunni, only to quickly stop when Festus interjected.

Coryo's eyes were staring into the back of Festus' head, and if looks could kill Festus would've dropped dead the first moment he saw him after Sunni revealed they were together.

When the group arrived and Festus parked his car, he led Sunni into Clemensia's estate, where she stared up in awe, talking excitedly while Festus had a hand on waist. Sej and Coryo got out of the car, glaring at Festus.

"I brought my pocket knife, so if I need to, just let me know," Coryo mumbled to Sej as they walked up the steps, earning a hit to the chest.

"No!" He hissed, earning an eye roll from the blonde. "No murder again! The judge let you off the first time because you hadn't been diagnosed with I.E.D. yet and you were ordered to get court-mandaged therapy!"

"Damn, Sejanus, you're no fun," He grumbled as the two followed Festus and Sunni inside.

Inside of the estate, there were hundreds of students talking, dancing, some drinking alcohol, others doing drugs to let loose, making out, or doing whatever else. The lights were blinding and changing between a bunch of different colours as all kinds of music artists played on the speakers.

Sunni was eating a sugar cookie by Festus near a wall, trying not to feel uncomfortable by everyone else doing things she was taught not to do.

"It's kind weird... seeing everyone drinking alcohol," She whispered to Festus, finishing her sugar cookie.

"Oh, come on, baby, it's fine. C'mon it'll be fun," Festus encouraged, pouring Sunni a cup of whiskey. She shook her head, covering her nose with her hand.

"Nuh-uh, I refuse to try and drink until I'm 21," She refused, earning an exasperated groan from him. He downed what he poured, rolling his eyes.

"Whatever."

An hour passed, and by then, Sunni was in the middle of the dance floor, giggling up a storm as Festus had his hands a little too low on her as they danced to some popular song. His hands danced on her hips, and he was murmuring soft nothings in her ear that were lost on her due to the music.

Sunni was leaning into his touch, laughing and tossing her head back into his touch, feeling his thing against her back.

Sejanus and Coryo hated the sight as they mingled with the crowd. They had everything set up, and soon, it would be known to the entire grade what Festus was really like behind all that fucking charm and flirtatious attempts.

Then it happened.

The lights turned on, and Sunni was covered in a bunch of different foods. Then laughter erupted.

Sunni felt tears erupt in her eyes.

"And, THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is how you embarrass a naive little bitch!" A loud voice boomed in the room which was followed by laughter.

Sunni brought a hand up to her head as she felt two pairs of hands pulled her up. She blinked a few time, trying to focus on Festus.

"Fes..? Why did you do that?" She asked, not realizing tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"Oh, because I can! I had to embarrass you and your pathetic District mind!!" He replied, grinning maliciously.

"Why?" She asked stumbling, and feeling a familiar warmth embrace her.

"Because I can't believe how stupid you were to believe that I love you!!"

"You... you don't...?" She asked. Sunni started to cry harder. How could she be so stupid? Why didn't she believe Sejanus? Why hadn't she trusted him?

"No, you fucking moron!"

Sunni started getting dizzy and she felt sick. She placed a hand on her stomach, feeling warm until vomit spewed from her face, earning groans of disgust from their classmates.

The next morning, Sunni groaned feeling the sun's rays on her face. She slowly opened her eyes, her eyes slowly scanning around the room. She was home?

She blinked a few more time, focusing on the figure who was seemingly asleep in a chair next to her bed.

"Cori...?" She mumbled, furrowing her brows a tad.

"Mornin', Sunshine," Coryo greeted, opening his eyes and sitting up. He reached over, brushing a lock of hair out of her sleepy face. She smiled a little at his touch, leaning into him. She was usually always warm, so his cold touch was a nice change to have against her body.

"Wha' happened...?" She asked. He grimaced, the events of last night came flooding back. Sunni's eyes soon noticed the bandages on Coryo's hands.

"Coryo, your hands-"

"I'll be fine, princess. You rest up, I'll go let Sej know you're awake and we'll bring you breakfast before we tell you what happened last night," He told her, gently cupping her face in his hand.

"Okay."

Tags: @etfrin @hearts4court @snows-wife @delusionalbunni @kiraflowersworld @victory-scream0462 @curled-hair-red-lips @morallygrayboys @phoward89 @xoxo-eyeballs @thereeallink @graciouslyc @acidaciruela @wanda-maximoff-enthusiast @firstworldproblemthings @nowitsmissing

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Heretic's Confession, Chapter One

CW: Captivity whump, some... implications... references to branding. This is just me getting a feel for the idea and character, though, really.

-

The robes he once kept pristine are caked in dried mud around the hem. Grigory frowns as he inspects them, rubbing along the seam. It flakes away, leaving imprints of itself behind. 

Maudlin, certainly, but it feels like the stain of their sins painting his soul.

Maybe suffering can give even a man of the Goddess the sentiment of a poet. His lip curls in disgust at the very thought.

Please, please speak to me, Dromada. Tell your priest what he must do to escape this nightmare.

She is, and has always been, silent to his pleas for Her assistance. 

The Goddess the people worship may be a paragon of compassion and forgiveness, her sculptures solemn and grave with hands outstretched to embrace even the lowest-born of Her children, but Grigori is beginning to suspect the holy men have got it wrong. 

She isn't gracefully wise. She does not reach Her hand out to hold Her children. No, as each day passes without Her so much as whispering a reassurance, he begins to feel She is th goddess of laughter, and he is Her current favorite joke.

A knock at the door to his room - his cell, really, but of course they all like to pride themselves on keeping him in high style in his gilded cage - has him looking up, a little startled. The moon has only made half of its trek across the night sky, through the looping swirls of galaxies far, far beyond the reach of mere mortal men. That milky spin of stars, everyone knows, is where the gods live.

He wonders how many of them are looking down on him, sipping crystalline waters, and mocking his pain.

He would spit on every last temple step, if he could.

If he could just leave the fucking room-

“Brother Grigori,” His guest singsongs, half-dancing into the room. Grigory turns away from him, laying one palm over one of the iron bars that blocks any escape through the window. His fingers close slowly around it. 

“What do you want.” His voice is curt, it cuts short and sharp. “Bastard.”

“Oh, see you got my name all wrong again.” The leader of this little gang is tall - too tall - and all knees and legs, lean muscle making him heavier than he looks. Grigori is tall enough for a man, but he seems like he’s half-grown, compared to the bandit. The man’s hair is a shock of white atop his head, shaved on the sides, while Grigori’s curly brown grows to the bottom of his ears, as is prescribed for the priests. He swaths himself in black kohl around his equally dark eyes and shining black leather worn back to brown from age and ill-use at the knees and elbows. Grigori’s hazel and his dirtied robes look like a joke, placed next to the bandit’s appearance.  “It’s Bohli, remember? Or that’s what my mother calls me, anyway. Or she would, if she were still alive. She probably uses that when she curses my name from the heavens above, granted. I mean, probably, unless she really is suffering in the Dark After, like she deserves-”

“What do you want, Bohli?” Grigory’s head is already starting to hurt. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Nonsense. You have all the time in the world. You have nothing but time.”

“Not for… you. Please leave.”

“Nope. Not going anywhere. This is my house, remember? I just let you stay here.”

“Let me.” The words are sour in Grigori’s mouth. “Right, of course. Let me. Because I asked to be branded and trapped here in this room-”

“Hush. I take you for walkies every day, little god’s dog.” Bohli winks, and Grigori - who took a vow of pacifism, once - imagines stabbing his own knife through his eyeball until it comes out the other side of his head. “If you don’t want a leash, you just have to prove you won’t run off.”

He would, of course. Run. Outside, the woods stretch far and wide. There’s a path he could take to find a village, to find freedom...

Or… more realistically… to get arrested for being in league with Bohli and his bastards, which he isn’t, but everyone knows the goddess would save Her most faithful, and he’s been here too long. He would be branded a heretic. Everyone knows he’s a heretic. His own fellow priests would turn their backs on him. The people would burn him at the stake, for being defiled, degraded, a paragon of nothing but the filth they have covered him in. Little more than a bandit himself. 

Maybe he is one.

Dromada would have saved him if he were truly Hers to save. And instead, here he is, the infamous giver of absolution to the men and women who massacre whole towns in defiance of - in direct insult to - the power and might of His Majesty, the King.

No. he would be burned as an enemy of the King's, and he would have no standing to defend himself. A captive this long isn't a captive at all, in the eyes of the world.

Just a man who no longer wants to be saved.

Tears prick at his eyes, and he struggles not to let Bohli see them and mock him even more. It’s not like he hasn’t already been marked. It was one of the first things they did. Bohli had given the order and watched while they tied him down. Grigori himself had been made to look as they put the iron in the fire, made to watch them heat it to red. Bohli had been whispering in his ear when when they pressed it to his pelvis, and Bohli had cooed over him while he screamed, stroking through his sweaty hair.

“Just leave,” He whispers, the area aching all over again. They branded him over the symbol of Dromada tattooed, a mark of his vow of chastity.

Another one broken.

Maybe that was when She stopped listening.

“Oh, but I can’t, darling Grigori. I’ve come to make a confession.” Bohli laughs, and his laughter could make you bleed even better than his blade. But somehow Grigori can’t seem to die from the loss. “Isn’t that why I keep a priest of Dromada around, anyway? For to save my poor mortal soul?”

Grigori fights the urge to wish aloud someone would poison the asshole’s food. “You would burn if you touched the Hem of her robe.”

“Maybe.” Bohli shrugs, kicking a chair over and dropping down into it, loose-limbed. His eyes spark with delight as he takes in Grigori’s misery. “But you wear Her robes, and yet I never burn when I touch you-”

“Speak your confession,” Grigory snaps, his heart twisting and going briefly silent and still in his chest. He feels blood rush to his face, and Bohli’s peal of bright, brittle laughter tells him the flush isn’t going unnoticed. 

“Say it.” Bohli watches him, and it’s like being watched by one of the terrifying big cats that roam the woods just beyond this hideous prison. Unblinking, a predator’s stare. “Say the words, priest.”

Each time he does, they feel more bitter on his tongue. 

But still.

Grigori draws the ruins of his robe closer around himself, and sits up straight. He swallows and sets his jaw. “Bohlinde hir Maksma en Ygridsen, the goddess Dromada hears and forgives all from those who love Her. You have only to ask. Speak, child, and be forgiven.”

Bohli licks his lips, leaning forwards. Somehow, Grigori can’t make himself look away. The bandit leader’s teeth are sharp - those canines can rend skin from bone. He’s part-elf, they say, somewhere in his bloodline the half-mindless shrieking hordes of the elven race lurk. You can always tell, so it’s said, from the sharpness of their teeth. From how little they care for the lives of men.

Maybe he’s half-elf.

It would explain why he’s so fucking smug.

“Forgive me, Dromada’s Chosen, for I have sinned against Her,” Bohli says, and he doesn’t even try to feign sincerity. Why he even plays this game, when Dromada isn’t a goddess for the elves of their wretched offspring to begin with, is beyond Grigori’s understanding.

Grigori fights the urge to sigh. He makes Dromada’s Sign, wondering if it even calls to Her any longer. If She even feels the spark of a follower’s call, or if he’s cut off from Her entirely. Who hears him when he prays?

Does anyone?

“How have you sinned against Our Mother, She Who Gave the Waters?” 

Bohli licks his lips. His smile is a little too wide, shows too many of those sharp, sharp teeth. He'd be blisteringly handsome, if it weren’t for the sight of fangs where none should be. “I won’t lie, Brother Grigori. I set some stuff on fire yesterday. And I’m going to do it again. Will I be forgiven?”

Grigori imagines the mud climbing higher and higher up his robes, pulling him into the earth, forcing itself down his mouth and pressing over his eyes. He imagines the gods in the sky, looking down from their stars.

The image shatters with the memory of first sitting at the table with the dozen or so of Bohli's favorites, each of them smiling at him, while he sat in his pure white robes and felt himself bared, as if naked, before them.

Until Bohli had given the order for what to do with him.

“Dromada forgives all who seek Her,” Grigori intones, thoughtless. The words memorized before he was even thirteen years old, before he was old enough to take his vows. Before he was taken, and they were all broken, one by one. Bohli loved breaking Grigori's vows. “You have only to ask.”

“Good.” Bohli’s voice drops low. He has to focus to hear it, which is probably the bastard’s entire point. “Because I really, really love asking, and I love the sound of your answers.”

The bandit stands, walking over to him, putting one finger under his chin and forcing Grigori to look up - and up, and up, and up - to see the demon smile.

Grigori is sure, as Bohli watches him with his head tipped to the side and his black eyes as bright as the stars, that he can hear the goddess laughing.

[saltydumplings]

Might I request a Villain, who while fighting Hero in their Lab/Base, accidentally sets off a Trap/Weapon, backfiring on them, and ends up all wrapped up in some sort of Net/rope. Hero just laughs, Villain being angry and flustered that they made this mistake, accuses the classic line of "Are you into this or something!?" and much to their dismay, Hero responds smugly with "Yeah, how could you tell?"

And if it is not too much, as apparently one of the few "Villain gets railed by Hero" enjoyers, could I request at least the implications of that, and as you'd expect, make it as spicy as you'd like ;) - 💌

Request #22

Hmmmmm yes...this will do splendidly for my return.

CW: SPPIIIIICCCCYYY

Five minutes had passed and still the hero hadn't stopped laughing. It was humiliating enough for the villain to have stepped into their own trap - to have effectively disarmed themself as they fell to the ground, dropping their knife the second the ropes had hit their ankles and wrapped up around their legs and arms, the villain now no more agile than a fish on land - the last thing they needed was the hero laughing at them.

The villain was surprised the other hadn't passed out yet. There had been a brief moment where the hero had gone silent and the villain had presumed their incessant wheezing had finally led to their suffocation but the world clearly didn't feel like being that kind to them today.

"Are you finished yet?" the villain asked.

More laughter.

They rolled their eyes and then rolled themself, turning to the side so that they at least didn't have to look at the hero as the other practically broke down into tears. It wasn't that funny. Didn't the hero have better things to do - people to save? A city's ass to kiss? Gods, couldn't they just arrest villain already so they could get out of these stupid ropes!?

The villain squirmed as they tried to free themself once more, huffing when their arms remained pinned to their sides and their legs were as good as glued to each other. If only they'd managed to keep hold of their knife... They could see it now. Just a few steps in front of them, beneath their failed attempt at a freeze ray. Even if they made it over there they wouldn't be able to reach it. That required arms, and hands, and apparently they could currently use neither--!

A hand pressed against their shoulder and suddenly they were being turned to lay on their back, eyes already fixed into a glare before they even caught sight of the hero above them.

"If you start laughing again..." The villain let the threat fall flat, jaw clenching when a small giggle broke through the hero's lips.

"No, it's - I'm," the hero took a breath, barely containing the smirk that crossed their face, "I'm good now, I-- I'm fine, I swear."

"I don't care about your wellbeing, I care about my dignity! Now stop laughing and get me out already!" the villain seethed.

To that the hero merely tutted, a playful huff of breath leaving them as they regarded the helpless villain below them. "Wow. You're at my complete mercy and you still can't even say please."

The villain stared up at them unamused. A few seconds passed and they quickly grew tired of looking at the hero's stupid grin, moving to turn themself once more only to have the hero hold them back - the other's legs suddenly straddling their waist and trapping them in as if the villain could have possibly gotten away from them. All the villain had left was the ability to roll and now they couldn't even do that - what more did the hero want?

"I'm not begging you," the villain said. That was the one low they refused to steep too.

"Aw," the hero pouted, "not even a little?"

The villain glared. "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? What, having me tied up beneath you isn't enough? I bet your into all that stuff aren't you - I bet you're just loving this."

A pause.

The villain felt themself flush a little as the hero's smile grew wider.

"Yeah, I am. How could you tell?"

Unbelievable. The hero was unbelievable - who just said that? Who just admitted that openly to- to anyone?

"Y-Your joking," the villain said.

The hero simply shrugged. "Am I?"

"You don't just...th-that's not--"

"Not what?" the hero asked innocently.

"I don't know!" the villain spat, too flustered to think. "You don't just go around sharing your kinks, that- that's private!"

To that the hero merely hummed, that stupid grin still plastered on their face as they regarded the villain below them, hands splaying out across their chest. "You're blushing," they commented.

A pause.

"N-No I'm not," the villain said quietly, cheeks burning brighter even as they spoke. "And even if I was i-it would only be out of embarrassment! E-Embarrassment for you!"

"If you say so..."

The villain didn't like that tone of voice. The hero sounded cocky, and - as far as their past encounters were concerned - a cocky hero was a dangerous one.

They held their breath and averted their gaze as the other suddenly leant in closer, their lips practically brushing against the villain's cheek: "Are you sure that's all there is to it?"

The villain gulped. "O-Of course. What else would it be?"

The hero smiled and leaned back again, leisurely trailing their hands over the ropes which crossed the villain's chest.

"Oh, I don't know," they said slowly, their fingers working their way beneath the binds. "I just thought that, perhaps--" They grasped the ropes, twisted them and pulled up, the villain gasping at the sudden tightness across their arms and chest as their back rose off the floor "--we had a shared interest."

Even if they'd had their hands free, the villain would have never been able to hide the deep blush that spread across their cheeks and down their neck, the tips of their ears similarly tinting pink as they gaped up at the hero above them. They squirmed, their new position quickly growing uncomfortable when the hero twisted the ropes once more - waiting for a response that the villain was too flustered to give.

"Well?" they prompted.

"I-I, um..."

"You what?"

Gods, the villain was panting - breaths far too shallow to give them sufficient oxygen to think straight.

"Oh, come on now. Don't be shy," the hero said. "A smart villain like you always has plenty to say: you can't tell me that all it took was a little rope to make you dumb--"

"B-Bananas," the villain muttered.

The hero paused, grip loosening a little as they raised a brow. "Bananas?"

The villain nodded, face completely flushed as they shuffled slightly, an undeniable heat building up between their legs. "It's m-my, um, safe word."

"Oh. Oh!" The hero's eyes widened, an apology quickly falling from their lips as they went to put the villain back down only to have the other suddenly shake their head.

"N-No! Th-that's not- I meant--" the villain sputtered out a wild mix of words in a rush, the hero catching absolutely none of it but pausing in their actions all the same until the other had taken a breath, gaze averted off to the side as they tried again. "I just thought you, um, sh-should know. I-In case I need to...y-you know."

It took the hero a second to process that. In fact, it took them two. But once they did their grin returned to them quickly as they pulled the villain back up, gripping the ropes just as tightly as they had before.

"Yeah?" the hero checked.

Beneath them the villain nodded, a content sigh slipping past their lips as they let themself relax into the other's hold - the hero's free hand coming up to run through their hair and give an experimental tug that had the villain shuddering delightfully. They repeated the action again, a little stronger this time, and it earned them a small moan.

"Well then," the hero said, eyes practically transfixed upon the bound criminal beneath them, "in that case, I'm sure we can find a much better punishment for you than prison. One that's more...fitting. Personal."

The villain had never heard the hero say something so promising in their life. If this was how they avoided arrest, then perhaps falling into their own trap hadn't been a complete failure on their part after all.

[patxhwrk]

greetings. could u write a little imagine thing for ethoslab? watcher!reader or dsmp!reader thanks! preferably male reader. take ur time if u do write it. stay hydrated.

my fuck this is such a good idea thank you anon for being so smart

anyways dsmp reader with angst sorry about that

completely forgot u asked for an imagine so have a whole fic instead. I might write a seperate imagine for this one too tho

-ˋˏ✄— Bubbling Memories

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ Ethoslab x Male! DSMP! Reader

Pronouns: he/him

"You're more home to me than any house is."

.navigation. // .hermitcraft & empires smp masterlist.

CW!!

—Mentions of character death

—Implications of self-harm & attempt su*c*de

—Blood

—Derealization(?)

Every second spent in that lawless server—ironic, considering it had been laws that started wars—was spent in the echoes of left behind misery. There was never silence in that world. If you managed to stumble upon even a sliver of quaint and quiet, you would find that it would have been better to have the ear piercing noise.

Y/n was lucky enough to have been left with one life. The last thing he remembered from the old server was the sorrowful eyes of his friends waving goodbye as he left. The portal—it vaguely reminded him of a nether portal if it was pink—shrunk as Tubbo's and Ranboo's backs turned to leave.

He hugged the blue stained yellow sweater closer to himself as he turned towards the new server—his new server—as the habitants greeted him with warmed welcome arms.

He was half afraid of building something that took effort. But one reassuring conversation with Xisuma—the man somewhat resembled Dream. Why was his mask fucking green?—coaxed him into building one of the biggest and best things he had ever created in his life. Well, it was just an "improved" Logstedshire, but it was the thought that counts, right? Building it reminded him of the time he spent with his brothers—though one had been a ghost, it was fine. He even put a bell where he and Tommy would—!

His hands stopped swinging the bell.

Tommy was dead. His younger brother had visited Dream in the prison where he was left to die. And he left his brother because he was too much of a pussy to confront the same man who had tormented him until he had a knife barely glazing at the skin of his throat.

He shook his head, running his hands through the mop he called hair as the bell ringed a final time. It silenced before it stilled. And then Y/n left his base.

Voices rang in his ear—was it his?—as he scolded himself for building something that gave him so much horrible memories more than the good ones. Why can't be just be like Ghostbur? Forgetful of the sorrows and always looking at the sun even through dark clouds.

His arms found comfort in himself, wrapping around each other as his nails dug into the skin under the yellow sweater. Wilbur wouldn't mind if he stained it, right? Wilbur would reassure him that it was fine, he was fine, it was all fine. And then he'd take the sweater and wash it. Because Wilbur was a good big brother.

No, Wilbur's dead. His brother was long dead before Philza killed him. Ghostbur wasn't like Wilbur, either.

He walked aimlessly around the server. He would have reminded himself of Ranboo's enderwalking state if he was in his own head. He watched as he passed by builds, ignoring the calls of concerned friends—friends? He had friends now?—as his feet brought him further and further from the build that he longed to blow up. Longed to tear into shreds bare handed as the memories of a pain long buried but never forgotten bubbled back to his head. Longed to feel the blood coat his fingers as his fists crashed through the shards of glass that showed the reflections of himself—a man who was too much of a coward to save his little brother. Too much of a coward to stop his father from killing the brother he looked up to. Too much of a fucking coward to just shove the knife through his chest, in the same place the sword dyed the sweater blue.

He longed to let his hands, his arms, his whole body fucking hurt. The seating hot pain that followed, the ache, the numbness, before it disappeared and he'd wake up with one less life left.

A hand was placed on his wrists. Cold, it was so fucking cold, as it pulled his shaking hands away from the yellow—now red stained sleeves—sweater.

It jolted him awake. Whether it was the cold, the tug of his arms, the way his voice called to him, or his concerned eyes searching for something—just something—in Y/n's unfocused stare.

"Y/n, hey," Etho's voice was gentle. He was patient as he tried to bring Y/n's eyes to his own. "Hey, hey, I'm here."

"I—Etho?" Y/n's voice was barely above a whisper, almost inaudible to Etho if he hadn't been paying close attention to him. "What—?"

Etho's arms wrapped around his midsection, pressing him against himself as his hand raised to hold Y/n's head gently. "Thank void you're okay."

Hesitantly, Y/n wrapped his arms around Etho's neck. He hadn't realized his legs were shaking until his whole weight was leaned against him. But Etho didn't complain, he was strong enough to carry Y/n if he ever needed. And he did now.

Y/n sniffled. He didn't stop the tears flowing out of his eyes as he buried his head on Etho's shoulder. And Etho let him. He buried his head on his hair as Y/n's whole body shook.

Pressing a feather light kiss on the crown of his head, Etho whispered in the quiet forest. "It's okay, you can cry. But it is never your fault. None of it is."

Y/n's eyes searched the distance, and he realized just how far he walked when he spotted the world border a distance away. He sniffled and hiccuped as Etho gently and patiently combed through his hair.

He shook off his thoughts before it could remind him of a memory long past and buried himself further into Etho's clothes. It smelled like redstone, and the glowing red dust was enough to tell Y/n that he was working on a project before hand.

"Let's get you home, shall we?"

"No, not my place. Please don't bring me back there, not again."

Etho nodded. The pain in Y/n's voice stung his heart, and he knew he had to make him feel better. He kneeled down for a short second just to hook his arms under Y/n's knees and bring him up to carry him easier. Y/n's head still nested on his shoulder as he took off to the direction of his own base.

"My place, then."

"You don't have a proper base yet, Etho." Etho felt the upwards tug of his lips. His eyes glanced down to Y/n's whose reddened eyes watched the path they took.

"Hey, it's a home to me and it'll be a home to you!" He laughed to lighten the mood. Y/n's quiet chuckles followed after him and he smiled down at him.

"Thank you, Etho."

"Anytime, sweetheart."

Y/n could take down improved Logstedshire when he felt better. Then, he wouldn't have to do it bare handed. Or alone, he reminded himself, as his eyes found dual coloured eyes.

Right now, he was just content to be with Etho.

—PATCHWRK !

[diejager]

Lil' Mouse

The Ghostface

Cw: blood, gore, murder, attempted murder, survivor, killer, NSFW, torture, implication of smut, Ghostface being a sick fuck- he's Ghostface.

Note: not proofread

Wc: 1k

Few things made his blood pump, adrenaline running through his veins with hunger; deep, unscathed hunger - a primal need. One of those were the chases. He loved the feeling of a chase, the pure adrenaline that it gave him, he lived for the hunt and the stalking. Watching his victim slowly fall into madness, paranoia at being watched, thinking that they're being watched without knowing who or where, the fear in their eyes and the jitters in their body; but what he loved more than the stalking was the sound of his knife stabbing through a person's flesh, the squelch of blood and the warm feel of it under his cool, leather gloves. The cold silver turned into a crimson shimmer after one stab, a drug that drove his system wild, it gave him a kick to see blood pool from the wound and cover the ground his victim lay.

If they screamed- Oh, if they screamed and trashed, it would only spur him on, making the game of cat and mouse truly alive. The gurgles and gasps he would receive, his ears tuned to the songs of harrowing pain that slowly died down as his victim bled to death. The liquid life draining the warmth and colour of their skin, glazed over eyes and red-painted lips. Another picture for the memorabilia - his twisted sense of remembrance for his past victims added to the papers he wrote about himself.

He killed for self-enjoyment, to feel the thrill and energy it brought to him - perhaps that's why it didn't bother him when she took him, to the Entity's world.

She fed off hope and despair, words he was familiar with, he also got a kick out of seeing people cry and despair. It was a good deal in his eyes, he could stalk, hunt and kill without the nagging presence of authoritative figures or always needing to move from state to state; it saved him time and money, though it lacked the power he had over the city he preyed upon and failed to fuel his need for media popularity.

The same faces, the same methods, the same voices, but the various ways he stabbed them, choked them, and left them for dead was exhilarating. It might've been better than before, he could let them scream as loud as he wanted. Some, he hated - a mutual hatred between him and a few survivors - others, he could care less as long as he was entertained - they feared him for good reasons, he was a knife-wielding psycho charging at them. None were his favorites, he didn't have one, couldn't find an interesting enough individual to constantly keep his attention on- but then you popped up.

A doe-eyed survivor with scars lining the cuffs of your collar, silver lines hidden tightly under that loose polo of yours; none being a result of your actions, surely. Cautious frown and knitted brows in and out of trials, softening when pointed towards another survivor and hardening to a resolute glare when caught by one of his. How utterly adorable. You watched from afar, never daring to approach him, even when he beckoned you over with a teasing wave, eyes narrowed and back hunched as you backpedaled from him. You hightailed away the first time you met, quick on your feet and smart too - he liked that. Although you were a bit quiet, mouse-like in some ways as some survivors would be after living in the Entity's realm for a while; scurrying away before anything bad happened; fidgeting with your hands; looking back at every noise. Adorably so, you became his new obsession.

On the second trial, he cornered you, stalked you, trapped you, and hunted you like a prowling cat hunting a sqeaky mouse. You froze up, hands trembling and legs rigid with terror, the dark circles under your eyes made your wide eyes so much prettier when he caught the glint of his knife in them. Each step of his doubled yours, backing you into a wall, helpless and at his mercy.

"I'm gonna carve you another one, yeah?"

True to his words, you found yourself straddled on the cold and damp floor, hands flying towards his masked face, his hands, his shoulders - anywhere you could that would potentially stop him - to deter him from carving you another one. A deep, saccharine chuckle, muffled by his mask, reached your ears as his knife plunged into your flesh, tracing the lines that your prior attacker left. What he could finish before, Ghostface could, drawing new lines over the old ones, painting pinkish silver in red and unscarred flesh with red.

"You look hot, babe," he cooed, sounding so far away from the blood loss.

The ringing in your head and numbing body told you all you needed - made you reminisce of the time you were attacked and left for dead in that alley, forgotten - except for the hard poke on your thigh that told you another thing: he was a sick fucker. The bastard had popped a boner while stabbing you.

He found new ways of doing you in, on the third meeting he hooked you - for once - on the fourth, your throat was slit; on the fifth, stabbed once in the abdomen and cuddled as you bled to death; on the sixth, a quick and merciful hit to the heart after he cracked your ribs; seventh-

You hated him, where he found pleasure, you found pain - much expected from a killer toward a survivor. Yet, with every kill, he helped, The Ghostface helped you slowly move on, over your near-death experience, of having everyone leave you after they thought you kicked the bucket, numbing the pain. You were always worried about or congratulated after a match with him, and he, true to his words, always came back to you for more.

"My adorable lil' mouse," he said, fingers crinkling around the handle of his knife as he peered over the wall.

Degrading, yes, but it held a bit of affection.

You either got away scot-free or died with him, not limping to the gate with The Shape or dizzy and brain-scrambled by The Doctor. They were all sick bastards, but Ghostface was one of the... nicer toward you.

"Hmm?" he cooed, head tilting almost comically with his mask. "You want to know what to call me other than Ghostface?"

"Danny, babe, Danny Johnson. You better remember it cuz you'll be screaming that name tonight."