#cw: stalking

[cobwebs-in-autumn]

Ex-Boyfriend!Nikto stalking you all day every day. Masturbating outside your windows as he watches you eat, leaving sick little presents of lingerie and chocolates strewn across your bed, lighting candles and scattering flower petals leading from the front door to your bedroom. And the worst part is that he’s so meticulous and efficient that even if you call the police, it’s all cleaned up and perfect by the time they get there. No signs of forced entry. Eventually the police just stop coming or worse, threaten to take you in for false reports. And that’s when Nikto knows he has you, crawling into bed with you late at night, kissing your shoulder as you shake and sob, promising that he’ll make it all better. Isn’t that what boyfriends are for? 🧡🧡🧡

[lena-after-dark]

Pairing: Dark!Namor x Reader

Prompt: "I'll follow you to the ends of the earth. No matter where you run, I'll catch you."

Requested By: Anon

Warnings: Stalking, obsessive behavior, obsession at first sight.

You were on vacation the first time you felt him near. Of course then you didn't know what it was that haunted you through the waters.

The warm waves of the Atlantic washed all around you as you swam from the beach. You went as far as you felt safe to go, pausing to enjoy the sunshine and to sneak a peak at the marine life below. You were unsure how long you were in the water before you felt it. You knew there was a presence near you. You felt the pressure shift in the water, closing around you. Upon inspection, you saw nothing that would cause such a disturbance. But each time you stepped into the sea, you had the feeling that something was there - watching you.

That looming feeling of eyes upon you didn't let up, even after you were home. Though it was gone for a while, it came rushing back one rainy evening. It was enough to make you double check the locks on every door and window in your home. You peered outside and saw nothing. Always nothing. Except when the lightning flashed and there was a figure seemingly floating in the air. You only saw it once, and shrugged it off as your imagination.

Always when it was raining. That's when you'd feel it. That's when you'd see things. It was maddening. The figure only appeared when you were home - and when it was dark. Never when you could find proof that something was there.

Until you started receiving gifts, that was. Handcrafted jewelry and ornate shells appeared at your doorstep. And once on your windowsill - inside. That was enough to make you leave your home. And once again, the occurrences halted - for a time. Then you saw it again, not long after you'd moved. The figure floating in air. The shape of a man. You tried to capture an image, but it was gone before you could.

You had to get out of town again. This time to the mountains. The snow was a welcome distraction.

"Beautiful evening, isn't it?"

You were alone on the balcony of the lodge - sipping a hot drink and enjoying the setting sun. Something about him seemed familiar, though you didn't think you'd met him before. The glare of the sun obscured your view slightly.

"Yeah, it is. You're staying here as well?"

"Not exactly." The rich timbre of his voice was soothing. And yet something felt off. "Just visiting. It's very quiet around this lodge. You're the first person I've seen. Forgive my intrusion. I'm... Namor. May I ask your name?"

You told him your name out of compulsory politeness. He turned to face you, repeating your name with a smile. You could see him clearly now. He looked out of place - as if he were uncomfortable in the clothing he was wearing. Nothing in the style of his sweater or hat matched his earrings - and they unnerved you at the sight of them. They looked to be the same craftsmanship of the jewelry you'd been receiving. Or perhaps it was just a coincidence. You complimented them, testing the waters.

"You like them? Perhaps I'll have to get you a pair." You let out a nervous chuckle. It was time to leave. You made up a quick lie about needing to go and stood, noticing that he wasn't wearing any shoes.

"I'll see you again soon," he said as a goodbye. He sounded so charming. But there was something dark in the phrase. It was a promise. You dared a last glance at him and saw that he hadn't taken his eyes off of you. That familiar feeling was back tenfold.

Namor kept his promise. When you returned home, a pair of green earrings was waiting inside. You weren't delusional. This man - or whatever he was - was following you. Could he fly? What was he? There were so many questions, and no answers to any of them. And now that he'd appeared before you, certainly things were going to escalate. You had to leave again. You moved only when it was bright and dry as a bone outside. You were careful - leaving no trace of where you might've gone. You installed a camera, extra locks, everything you could think of.

You thought you were rid of him. Through stormy nights you didn't see or feel anything out of the ordinary. No gifts were left for you to find. No figure floating outside your window.

Apparently he just needed time to find you.

Your face to face meeting had made him bolder. You saw him again - hovering outside your window as the rain fell. This time he didn't disappear. This time he flew to the glass, placing his hand against it as he looked inside at you.

You scrambled away, trying to alert the authorities. It didn't matter if they didn't believe you. You needed to know someone was on the way to you.

Namor was inside before you could give dispatch your address. He was behind you with his hand wrapped around yours, pulling the phone from your ear and ending the call. The other was around your mouth, preventing you from yelling. He shushed you when you yelled into his hand - as if he were attempting to soothe you.

"I have to admit, I am enjoying our game of cat and mouse."

You pulled away from him, and he let you. When you faced him, a grin had spread across his lips.

"Did you like the earrings," he ended his question with something in a language you didn't understand. Most likely a term of endearment.

"Get out. Now. The cops will be here any moment." He chuckled at that, and paid the thin threat no mind.

"I think I'll keep our game going a little longer," he said as he stepped closer. You instinctively stepped back, and he continued forward until you were against a piece of furniture and couldn't retreat any further. He reached his hand out and ran his knuckles against the side of your arm. The touch sent shivers down your spine.

"I'll give you two weeks this time before I look for you again."

No matter what you said, or what questions you asked, he had no interest in elaborating. Whatever his intentions were in the end, he kept them from you. He wouldn't tell you why he was there, what he wanted from you, nothing.

“I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. No matter where you run, I’ll catch you.” 

He left through the window, flying into the darkness so quickly that he barely looked like a shadow across the sky.

Buy Me a Coffee?

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi! If you're still taking requests I'd love request a drabble about the moment when Konig and Reader first noticed each other and what they thought/felt during that moment based on your "Just Friends" fic.

Btw I love your work and oh my god, it's perfection, absolutely amazing. Super excited to read chapter 3&4 (no rush take your time!!)

Thabj you!!!

Even Demons are Lonely

Wordcount: 3.8 k

Summary: König sees reader for the first time. Soon, the promise to never touch someone as lovely as her turns into a vow to never leave her side.

Tags/warnings: F!Reader, König POV, Just Friends universe. Angst, twisted & fluffy feelings, pining, obsessive behavior, stalking, panty stealing, mentions of past trauma, abuse and patricide, yandere!König falling in love (=being delusional). Mild sexual and violent themes. 

A/N: I did take my time with this one... 🩷 And it's only König POV, but I hope you enjoy! 💋

"Abashed the Devil stood, and felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely – saw, and pined His loss..."

– John Milton, Paradise Lost

Purgatory.

That's the word that stuck to him when he was learning English at school, simply because it was an accurate definition of how he felt.

Adults used to say there is heaven and hell, and then this world, the world of humans, somewhere in between. They said he would go to heaven after he died and that bad people would go to hell.

They were all liars because hell already existed here on Earth. He had lived there ever since he was born.

The first memories of the cutting are shallow and pale, like they happened to some other boy. With every hit and cut and every cry, the sounds turned muddy until he was mute too, until all he could hear was mother's crying and Papa's roaring. The old man always got more mad when people cried and cowered. 

That's when he knew he would someday do something about bad people, that crying and cowering and begging wasn't going to help. It was the birth hour of hope and heaven. He dreamed of killing his father, killing his "friends", killing everyone who looked at him like he was a freak. 

He soon learned that this was not what people associated with heaven at all. He learned that there was a word for people like him, for phantoms who were morbidly interested in death and decay.

Ghoul.

A grave robber and a corpse feaster he was not, but neither was he going to pretend that some people didn't deserve to be gutted. If being normal meant he should just play along and pretend that there was justice in this world, then he was happy to be morbid. A little ghoul boy who grew up in hell, who dreamed of heaven, who slipped behind the thin veil between the worlds when he was four, who learned how to make the knives dance while everyone around him suffered.

He learned to cry and beg before he learned to speak, but when the words finally started to make sense to him, he had no use for them. No one wanted to talk to him, so he settled to observe. Life was a film reel running by, and words were useless when all he wanted to do was roar. There was a growing, gaping maw inside him, shrieking and spitting blood while he was without a voice.

It took a while to make Papa cry and beg. But he begged, eventually. In his last words, he tried to hide behind a woman’s skirt. 

"Don't do this to your mother," was a plea that didn't ignite mercy: it drove him off the ledge. Looking at the horrible excuse for a man squirming at his feet made him realize he should've released his mother from this demon years ago. He was too weak, and he vowed to himself, to the whole world, that he would never be weak again.

………………

Sometimes, a glimpse of true heaven can be seen on a clear summer's day when the sun shines, when bees are buzzing and a beautiful voice sings a love song on the radio. Beautiful, peaceful things only add to his suffering. They are simply evidence gathered – examples of everything he will never have. 

The air clots inside his mask with a brew of old sweat and acrid gunpowder. It's usually enriched by a hot desert wind or the stench of dust and emissions, a city's rotten core. It would feel odd to be met with a fresh breeze or the smell of rust and smoke than have them dampened by the baggy mask. He's certain that it would only be painful to feel the full brunt of the world on his naked face again. His enemies can't see him when he kills them, so they can't haunt him either.

He is the only ghoul here. He is the one who haunts.

He's learned to let love and peace go. He came here to reap; that's his job. Ghouls cannot love or be loved. They are supposed to get rid of the plague, do what normal people can't do, what good people deem hideous and wrong.

People have always been alien to him: they both know something he cannot seem to decode and are unaware of the constant presence of the Maw. He has to feed it in order to not be swallowed by it himself. It helps with the constant yelling for a while. 

His father was the first demon to be punished, but he has learned that all demons are liars when they beg. They don't know what real hell is like. That's why he didn't give mercy to his father, and that's why he doesn't give mercy to them, either. It's not hell, it's not heaven, so he must be in a limbo state in between. 

That's why he calls this place purgatory. 

………………

He sees a woman under the sun one day.

The sheer sight of her sitting there on her little blanket spread over the grass, dressed in a pure white dress is like a torturing dream from above. It stops him in his tracks like there is suddenly an invisible wall in front of him, forcing him to halt.

His heart is pounding, but that's not new. His heart is always tight and racing, and that's why it's better to have a heavy gun in his hands than hold onto nothing at all; it's better to do something than do nothing at all. The only thing that calms the endless roil inside him is work; when there's no work, it helps to go outdoors, somewhere between the shadows between thick trees.

Trees are better than people...

But they're not better than a woman like her.

He knows his mind plays tricks sometimes with females. That is why at first he thinks that the creature before him is not from this world either. How could someone like her even end up here? There are few ladies in the base, and none of them have picnics; none of them look like angels.

She looks up at the sky, at the single cloud drifting across the cerulean blue that hurts his eyes. Sun shines on her exposed throat, her stare is dreamy as she basks in the warmth and raises an apple to her lips. 

He stops breathing as she takes a bite, fearing it might stain the beautiful white dress from how juicy it is. The runaway apple juice drips down her chin, but she catches it with her finger, then sweeps the sweet taste of it back into her mouth. 

Her lips hug the finger gently as she savors the treat, and his breath returns to him, heavy and with a pang, like someone just punched him between the lungs.

She can't be human... 

He wonders if she's even real. 

He's hungry, but the need to devour this woman turns into a need to worship her before he can even decipher what is happening to him. He would grovel at her feet if that's what it took to get her to feed him some of that fruit. His mind goes numb from the need to march there and hug her. Just hold her, so close that he forgets what it is to breathe.

He knows she would only scream, and it's good he's been walking in the shade. It's good that she can't see him unless she turns her head. Because she must be an angel, and angels have no business with ghouls. 

He should go and leave her be... Mortals he can want, humans he can torture, but a celestial being he could never touch. The wind carries a whiff of apple juice to his nose; it overrides the stench of sweat and gun oil and smoke. 

And then the angel turns her head. 

It's Judgment Day, but she doesn't condemn him. She blinks a few times, lashes fluttering like he's another sun, the dreaded black sun, and she can't bear to look directly at him. But there's no disgust, no uneasiness, there's no fear. There's only shyness and the smallest smile. 

The pain inside his gut turns into a brutal stab, pure suffering. He hasn't hoped for anything for a long, long time. Now hope bleeds into his stomach with golden tingles, like those rays of sun that caress her skin.

He thought good things would feel… well, good, but to his horror, they feel painful too. She's painfully sweet. Even the demon inside him falls silent, the only demon he cannot destroy. It's finally quiet, as it should be. Everything in him bows to this greater power of Her. 

But she can't be real... His mind is sick and has finally conjured up the most beautiful thing he can never, ever have. He's been called a freak, he's been called a dumb ugly giant, he's been called so many things, but he's not stupid enough to think that the creature hugged by the golden aura of light is meant for him. 

So he squares his shoulders and pushes through the invisible wall, back behind the veil, back to where he belongs, and leaves the heavenly apparition in the sun.

………………

The next time he sees her is after a mission and inside the base. 

He brings mud and blood inside after a few rainy days spent in the mountains. He's so soaked that not even the 3-hour flight managed to dry all the dirt. She's waiting for him, or that's how it feels like when she gives him a small, relieved smile and starts to clean the mess he and every other operator leave behind.

His angel is not only a celestial visage but a cleaner.

She keeps the building that houses people who destroy life, clean. She scrubs the filth killers like him bring inside the cold, dead compound built on what used to be a forest full of birds, life, and wind through the trees. 

No one thanks this girl as she humbly dusts a table or mops the floor. No one understands that she's a saint for coming to the purgatory and making it a more decent place for the demons and ghouls to live. And she's relieved every time he comes back unharmed. She's happy to see he's alive. There's someone waiting for him. And not just someone, not just anyone, but an angel.

It's unbelievable how no one has claimed her yet. She has no one to keep her safe, and it makes his hands twitch. If he was her protector, she would never have to work again.

She's not like the rest of them: she doesn't turn her gaze away when he flicks a knife out. She likes to watch him make them dance. It's a ritual that makes him invincible on the battlefield. He used to do it every morning before school to stay safe – there were no angels back then to keep him alive.

He almost stops the first time he sees her watching how he goes through the rite. 

No, look away, little angel... You're not supposed to see this; this is a death dance, it's filthy, demonic magic.

But she's not afraid of his blades or the way he weaves his spell of protection. The girl follows his moves entranced. Her eyes shine, and he nearly drops the blade – he hasn't dropped a knife since he was ten – because there's hunger in her stare. Not as fathomless as his, but deep enough for him to recognize it. 

His angel is lonely and trapped too. 

He completes the dance, returns the knife to his pocket, and looks back, straight back.

She doesn't look away. She doesn't wince or lean back, no: she leans forward, and he can see it, the way her pulse flutters on her neck, the way her mouth opens even more, how a tiny pink tongue sweeps across her lips as she looks back into the jaws of damnation. It takes him a while to realize his angel must be wet, just from seeing how good he is with a knife. The notion doesn't only make his cock jolt; it throws him headfirst into the abyss. 

You'll never get rid of me now, the demon growls before he can choke him silent.

Her wet eyes, her wet, promising lips belong in a realm of madness. She's not filthy; his angel could never be filthy. But she's seducing him, which means she might seduce other men too. 

Has someone claimed her already…? 

What if she has a lover? Do they make her legs shake, do they make her mew?

Who does he have to kill?

………………

He breaks into her room that night. 

He only meant to stand watch and see if someone creeps to her in the cover of darkness. He thinks about different ways to kill her lover as he waits near her door. Should he just strangle them when they enter her room? Make her an offering, let her know she could have a far more powerful male if she wants?

No, he must use a knife... She will get wet if he uses a knife.

But no one appears: he is the only shadow in the dark hall, and after midnight, he decides to take a look at his innocent, sleeping angel. Just one look.

Her domain is full of softness, and he has to take a few deep breaths before he continues. Her world is so different from his that he nearly turns back and closes the door to paradise. But then her breathing calls to him, causing him to take a few steps. She sleeps with her window open, likes to listen to the sound of night birds before she falls asleep – just like he does…

The demon is awake in an instant and grabs him by the throat. 

No. 

Don’t look. If you look, she will steal your soul.

He freezes before he reaches her bed. His gaze sweeps her room instead, and the demon pants at the sight. Her dresses are laid out on a clothing rack: they salute him like a row of colorful flowers. Flowing and singing like a river, they hit him with a breeze made of life and all things good. 

She has a little armchair filled with cushions, and there's more softness and beauty everywhere he looks; he can see it even in the darkness of the night. Her delicate perfume that follows him as he follows her around the base lingers in the air and mixes with the distant birdsong and moonlight that shift the curtains in her room.

There's art on her walls, lively houseplants on the window sill, she has collected a cavalcade of cute little things on top of her drawer: nail polish and sea shells and beeswax candles and a piece of driftwood, a bottle of that perfume she uses, decorative lights above it all, placed around a small mirror. 

He wants all of that. 

He wants light and living things and greenery – he never had plants at home – he wants softness and cute little items, he wants to listen if the seashell still roars with the crashing waves were he to bring it to his ear. His mama always told him seashells remember the ocean because it used to be their home…

He wants her to light a honeyed candle and give him a bite of that apple, catch the juice as it runs down his scarred chin, or better yet, kiss it away before it falls. He wants to taste what's between her thighs. She must taste like honey and heaven.

One of the drawers is open, and from it, a torrent of cute little underthings is spilling out; they almost cascade on the floor. In different colors, too, and his hand reaches out and takes one before he can even think. He steals it like it's candy, then turns around with a stiff back and shoulders heavy from the sin he just committed.

He's about to go to the door, but her soft breathing calls him back. He tries to calm the demon - the girl can't steal anything: there's nothing left to steal. He has no soul, so he doesn't have to fear her either. 

Taking a few steps, he takes the peek he shouldn't take because it will only prolong his sentence in purgatory. Little does the demon know that he would suffer eternally for one little glimpse… 

She's not cocooned inside her blanket as he thought she would be. He thought he would find her coiled into a fetal position, curled into safety, but instead, she's sleeping on her back, arms spread next to her face, looking like she just fell from heaven and is feeling a little dizzy from the fall. She's calm and innocent as the moonlight brushes her cheek, her face free from all worry.

Why is she so cute, why is she so sweet? 

She has no right. She should be up in heaven.

He almost crawls on top of her right then and there, because blinding want is nothing compared to this. He wants to breathe her, breathe with her, hold her gently, and have her smile at him when she wakes up. He doesn't want to ruin her… He just wants a taste, see if an angel would like to have a demon worship her. If his worship would mean anything, if it had any power to persuade her to like him... 

He would never kneel before anyone, but he would kneel before her. In spirit, he is on his knees, and the only thing that makes him suffer is the fear that she might not want him, a ruined temple haunted by old, hateful spirits.

The madness was right. Apparently, there was a soul to steal, a tiny broken mosaic piece left, for the angel has it now. She owns what's left of him, the haunted temple is hers if she would ever want to come visit. He would restrain all those monsters so that she can walk freely and explore all the things buried under the rubble.

Her underwear burns his palm like a flower on fire. He only then realizes that there are no actual flowers in her room. He wonders if she would give him a kiss if he were to bring her one. Or two. Or an entire bouquet…

The demon inside cuts him with a searing blade – stupid idiot – she doesn't want to kiss your mauled face or love your ghouls. There's no treasure hidden inside that filthy rubble, there's only shit and blood and festering vomit. Better to just take her right now, see how tight she is, how wide her eyes go when a proper man comes to assert his will and authority. The demon tells him to at least ruin that cute thing in his hand and throw it on the table. Imagine her shocked little face when she wakes up…

Tears brim, and the maw of hell laughs with a roar of raging fire. He forces both down with a swallow and a wrench that shuts his heart.

There's no way she would ever let a man like him inside her. He's a sickness; no, he's an entire plague. He could try to make love to her, and she would only cry and bleed to death.

The smooth place between her brows gains a wrinkle as if she can hear his thoughts but doesn't agree with them. A little whimper escapes her nose, her head nods on the pillow; it looks like an attempt to hide while you're tied and cannot move. 

Pretty angel is having a nightmare, and it's no wonder. Of course she can sense she's being visited by a monster. 

He turns to leave, and notices another colorful thing on the floor: her underwear, and not clean. She's slipped out of it before bed: his angel is naked under that blanket. His angel sleeps naked…

He wonders if she has touched herself before sleep. Not with feverish, stern hands, like he does, but softly, under that blanket, with her features melting into pleasure as she comes with sighs and a series of desperate little whimpers. 

His blood turns to hellfire as he drops the underwear he's holding. It falls right next to the intoxicating thing he picks up instead. Taking a deep inhale, he can finally smell her. Not just her perfume, but her. She smells of an angel and a woman, raw, perfect woman, and he knows he's lost. This is worse than any dream or demon; this is worse than anything ever before. There's no going back now. 

Her scent calls to him, those hands frame her face in a gesture of surrender. She smiled at him on that day under the sun, and she smiled at him today.

What if he's spent enough time in hell? What if it's possible to have a taste of heaven?

He can't help but wonder if his angel wants this too... 

“Engel,” he whispers into the night.

It takes only a second before she whimpers again. It's an answer, it's a yes, and his heart is full of tiny needles; they pinch him with terrible love and hope. The wrinkle has smoothed out, and his angel is smiling very, very softly. 

She's calling for him. How could he refuse?

His angel is full of light as he makes his decision. He whispers his apology, only in his mind and only in German, trusting that angels must know every language in the world. He asks for her forgiveness for all the things he's about to do to her. Then he promises he will come for her, that she doesn't need to worry: she has a guardian now and always will. She will be forever safe with him by her side. He will drive even her nightmares away.

Then he returns to his room so different from hers, returns to the realm of death and worships the thing he just stole, spraying it with hot, white love - the only thing inside him that can be called pure, the color of angels. It's only a matter of time before he gets to worship her in the flesh, unite with her, the soul who forgave his sins and slipped him the key to heaven.

[mirangel]

💀 istg i thought i cried a little bit when i found your blog. been so so long since i met someone touches my taste. ily and your writing so much god damn it. dunno if i can but i hope i will get a piece of drabble- pervert blade with an unhealthy obsession over male/gender neutral reader. he stalks and takes secret pics of reader, using them as materials to jerk off and imagine he could fuck reader. eventually couldn't help himself, maybe oneday he would break inside reader's house and have his way with his poor little victim.

🥺 anyway i really hope to see more contents from you! they're delicious 😋 wish you a great day/night!

blade dark nsfw drabble 1

cw: stalking, kafka and silver wolf enables blade, masturbation, underwear sniffing, implied kidnapping, gn!reader

written by a minor, dni if uncomfortable

blade was so utterly enamored with you ever since he saw you. you didn’t even see him and yet when he saw you from his hiding spot in the xianzhou luofu, he knew you were the one. kafka teased him yet she would help him, enlisting silver wolf’s hacking prowess to give him access to everything he would want to know about you, including the live video footage of the camera the gamer had planted inside your room.

he never liked technology, finding it a waste when he could do it himself. however, blade found a newfound appreciation after he found himself going on his phone to watch you in your room when he physically couldn’t follow you around like the shadow he is. one day he broke into your room in desperation, ransacking your dresser to take clothes he knew you wouldn’t miss, especially your underwear, and brought it back to his room with him.

your scent smelled so good, calming the mara that rampaged throughout his entire body. he lets out a shudder at the mere leftover warmth of your body as he jerks himself off, letting out quiet grunts at how easy you controlled him despite not knowing it. he felt alive again, despite considering himself a dead man walking. he needs you more than he desires death. as his cum spills on his hand, he firmly believes that kidnapping you is an option.

WAHHH YOUR WORDS ARE SO SWEET!!! I LOVE YOU MORE!!!! i’m so glad my work is to your satisfaction!!! it makes me so happy!!!!!

[venusandsaturnsrings]

Okay lemme just

I have jjk brainrot and lemme just try to categorise my thoughts instead of letting them go !!!!!!!!

GOJO:

-Special grade teaser, this man will have you begging and edging you till you're crying

-def into letting you wear his blindfold, bonus if you're tied up

GETO

Pet play, corruption kink, need i go on- also if going with bottom Geto, def whimpers if you tug on his hair

MEGUMI

Purely basing this on an rp i had with a friend- lactation kink. Absolutely down for 3 somes with his SO + Yuji, we stan a bi king

SUKUNA

Blood kink, marking, anyway he can show off that you're his. Prolly bites you on the darn daily

MAHITO (making this extra long for you <3)

Hear me out- virgin but freaky AF

Watersports, spit, blood, cum, he's down for anything

Def has fantasies about carving his name into his fav human toy (you <3) preferably on the chest for all to see

Wil push you to your limits, prolly sucks at aftercare but can be bribed ibto beibg the best with it jn return for some new games and toys *nudge nudge wink wink*

Bonus-

Geeting double penetrated by Mahito and Foul Legacy Taru <3

IM LISTENING IM HEARING U OUT IM BRAINROTTING WITH U!! i’m crafting up a silly au where everyone lives and no one suffers and everyone gets to be happy and go to uni together and and and… so given that, i’m writing gumi n junpei as over 18!! crazy to think about but in canon time im younger than all of them… fucked up how time works huh… ANYWAYS…

includes: this is just general headcanons building off what you said my dearest + adding a couple of my own thoughts!! has Gojo, Geto, Megumi, Sukuna, Mahito, and Junpei bc he is so special to me <3 i am one of 3 Junpei kinnies on this planet i swear…

i’m not a major Gojo fucker, if anything we have hate sex that is fuelled by pent up arousal and being big time touch starved… but the idea of him using his blindfold on you?? oh dear oh my… it’s both a big step in trust and vulnerability. given that he finds not having his eyes covered to be immensely overwhelming, i imagine there’d be a strong bond between him and his partner to do this. he’s used to seeing you through the way he detects energy, it’s second nature to him, but he’ll never quite get over what it’s like to actually see you with his real eyes. his fingertips are shaking and he can’t seem to look at anything other than your face twisted in pleasure as he denies you your nth release of the day; it’s a carnal satisfaction. he tends to be very mouthy and loud whenever you’re going at it but with you splayed out in front of him like this, your body shielded by absolutely nothing, he’s rather quiet as he takes in every inch of you. it’s a form of depraved worship, in a way, that he feels so compelled to hardly even breathe to appreciate you and only you as much as he possibly can.

i’d be a liar if i said i wasn’t terribly down bad for Geto. long-haired men get me good and he’s no exception… he’s 100% into pet play and corruption you hit the nail on the head!! it’s half a control thing and half a desire to please, he doesn’t feel a lot of power over his life and being able to get some of that from what you two do together his cathartic. he’s partial to cat girls, having a little kitty for him to play with and to kneel at his feet brings him satisfaction like nothing else. Geto is also the best at aftercare!! he’s very tender in how he treats you, already having a nice warm bath and a glass of water ready… anything you need, just ask, he’d give the world to stay by your side as long as he possibly can.

prior to this ask, i’d never actually thought of Megumi before… but, hear me out, going off of his thing of sharing you with Yuji, i think he’s into being cucked. i’m sorry to be the one to say it but to my core i believe this is true and canon… when it’s just the two of you, Gumi has the tendency to get a bit nervous and lost at times so seeing someone he trusts so deeply take the reigns and really work to make you feel good without hesitation gets him going. sometimes he does get a bit jealous of the way Yuji palms at your tits or the way he gets you to squeal so loud but ultimately he knows you’re his. even if Yuji offered to snag you away, you wouldn’t accept because Gumi is the one you want (reassure him from time to time though). plus, after watching so many times, he gains a better grasp on what to do!! i think he also likes letting Yuji instruct him on just how to fuck you proper. <3

Sukuna… you are a man of many wonders and arms. he is absolutely the biggest biter of them all!! will use his normal mouth most of the time but really enjoys using his stomach mouth to nip at your ass when he’s plowing you from behind as the way you yelp in surprise never fails to get him going. he loves that having four arms means he can keep your hips still, choke you, and grope at whatever skin he wants all at the same time; there’s never a part of your body that goes missed. despite his claims of not caring about humans, there’s nothing that he loves more than having you dangle off his arm and getting to touch you in a way nobody else ever could. also, two cocks absolutely. prepare yourself to be stuffed full, he’s partial to having them both balls deep in your pussy.

FREAKY VIRGIN MAHITO IS REAL!! he’s all about experimenting so there’s really nothing he wouldn’t try honestly, it’s more of a challenge to convince him to not do certain things *shivers*… but that does come with a lot of bonuses seeing that he won’t write off anything so it’s free game for you!! odds are he’ll enjoy anything so long as he learns something from it, if it gets him off then even better. he’s naturally most interested in anything that’ll induce pain, emotional or physical, and things that allow him to be in complete control (submitting to a human? fat chance). Depending on how exactly he sees you, and how ooc you’re willing to take, you’re either going to be a good ol fashion pump n dump that he brutally slaughters OR you’ll end up being his forever pet that he won’t let out of his sight for more than fifteen seconds… both are a unique form of suffering but it’s Mahito, so there’s really no white picket fence ending option… regardless, prepare yourself to be used in the grossest ways. he’s got a particular fondness for watersports and anything that results in blood, with a preference for knife play and good ol aggressive biting, simply because he likes seeing you become a filthy depraved mess even when he’s being so cruel. i have a vague concept for a human au but even then he’s a nasty freak with no boundaries!!

adding Junpei onto this because he’s so dear to my heart and also the biggest incel. affection doesn’t come easy to him especially when it’s sexual, he finds being on the receiving end to feel as though it’s only because you pity him. try as you might, convincing him otherwise is going to take some time but he has no problem understanding his own feelings to be true although he’s shy… major panty sniffer alert, he’s too scared to actually try anything with you but he’s got his needs!! stealing a cute white cotton pair from your hamper is the next best thing to him and he’ll spend the next week with them pressed to his face whenever he’s alone, dick rutting into his hand messily. it’s subconscious but he also has a habit of stalking you around a little bit when he’s too nervous to actually talk to you but he swears it’s an accident!! he didn’t mean to learn your whole schedule it’s just that he sees you doing certain things more often!! he’s supposed to be on the other side of the city at that time for work?? you’re delusional, he was just… sent there for some sort of project, nothing weird at all he’d never!! huge whiner btw, babbles a lot when he’s finally fucking you.

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

*images credited to Kim Kardashian Twitter, and CW photo stills

Anonymous Prompt: “I really want demon dean stalking someone but I don’t know how to do that with consent? But guh just the thought of him.

Characters: Knight of Hell/Demon Dean Winchester x unnamed female character

Tags/warnings: 18+ only; this is not your mother’s Dean Winchester; stalking; exhibitionism; voyeurism; mutual masturbation; dirty talk; horny on aisle 3; fuck it, we ball

Words: 2,400

Author’s notes: #Mutual Masturbation for @jacklesversebingo

This did not turn out the way I'd planned, and it's not nearly as dark as I thought it would be. But I still love it! I hope you love it, too.

Thank you @brrose-apothecary @talltalesandbedtimestories @sam-is-my-safe-word @runawaydr3amerao3 @bigmouthlass for idea bouncing, and @stusbunker for the proof read and green light.

ENNUI

For some people, the passage of time is beautiful and magical; the smallest things are to be cherished. For others, time passing reinforces our connection with the world, marking each pulse of the rhythm of life. For her, time measures the loss and emptiness of what isn’t or will ever be again. 

Today is a milestone birthday for her. The days leading up to it have been punctuated by discoveries of new lines, bulges, and other undesirable changes to her body that remind her she’s steadily failing.

Since she had just two appointments this morning, she decided to close her office early and hit the pool shared by her HOA. Her neighbors are mostly professionals without children, and it’s Tuesday; she’s sure she’ll have the pool to herself to languish in the wet heat of July in the Midwest.

That annoying fucking saying ‘it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity’, comes for her breath and doesn’t leave. It seeps into the lining of her lungs, heavy and damp, slowing and weighting each step she takes toward the south-facing bank of chairs. Once she reaches the chair she always uses, she drops her canvas tote to the concrete and shrugs out of the sheer wrap before shuffling out of her sandals.

She bends to rifle through her bag for her tanning oil, and a faint chill begins to weave its way up her spine. 

+

Dean is sitting in the front seat of the Impala, swallowing the last bite of his Biggerson’s double bacon and cheese when she snags his attention. She walks with the measured confidence that speaks more of a dare than of enthusiasm. She’s alone, and everything about her vibe tells Dean that she’s more than comfortable with that. 

She doesn’t miss a beat as she makes her way to a randomly chosen lounger in a line of another dozen exactly like it. She lets her bag slip from her grasp, and her robe floats from her straight shoulders to join it at her feet.

She’s small in stature but she looks strong and fit—thick thighs and sculted arms, a narrow waist, and curves upon curves. Dean's never cared much about short, tall, fat, thin; he likes women and sex, and if he hits it off with someone, he’s down to fuck.

But this woman is a work of art.

He watches her dig through her bag, dragging his gaze from her delicate ankles and smooth calves and thighs to the generous curve of her ass. He imagines wrapping arms around her, lifting her to carry her to... bed, most likely.

He chuckles to himself. 

She takes a seat half-upright with her legs outstretched and applies oil to her bronze skin. He wishes he could rub it in for her. He lets himself believe she can read his mind, that she's doing this for him, putting on a show just for him. 

Why not? 

When she unties her bikini top to expose her full, heavy tits and dusky nipples, he doesn’t think twice about popping the button on his jeans and pulling his hot, persistently hard cock from his boxers.

+

As she had hoped, she’s alone at the pool. The small cluster of townhouses where she lives and the complexes on either side are as quiet as any Tuesday afternoon. Other than the birds and squirrels in the trees, she’s got the place to herself.

Well, and the old black Chevy parked at the Biggerson’s next door and the shadowy figure within. She may be cynical, but she’s self-aware, and she’s going to squeeze every drop of pleasure from this bland existence as possible. 

She’s always been an exhibitionist, definitely a thrill-seeker.  She pulls the tie at her neck until the triangles, scarcely covering her breasts, fall away. Then she splashes oil across her collarbones, letting it heat and drip down and around, and between her breasts. 

She flicks her shaded eyes to the car before hefting and massaging the full mounds of flesh, then sighs and nuzzles into her lounger. She bites her bottom lip hard as she pinches and twists her puckered nipples between her thumbs and forefingers.

She notices the figure shifting in the driver’s seat. They don’t start the engine or exit the vehicle. Instead, they lift a palm to their mouth and, she imagines, they spit before the hand disappears out of her sight once more.

“Fuck,” she whispers with a smile as she settles her head back against the plush headrest, dragging one hand down her torso and pushing it into her bikini bottoms.

+

That smirk.

Dean looks around the parking lot to find no one else around—it’s as empty as her pool area. He looks back to see that she’s planted her feet on the ground on either side of her chair, her legs spread open, and one hand working rough and slow in her bikini bottoms while the other pulls at her nipples.

“Fuck yes, sweetheart. Do it for me,” Dean mutters, twisting and pumping his cock. 

He grunts and groans as she pulls her hand from her bathing suit and lifts it to her mouth. She raises her head, then, and pushes two fingers between her luscious lips. She sucks and licks her fingers, taking her time, and Dean wishes she wasn’t wearing those mirrored sunglasses. He wants to see her eyes.

Are they blue? Green? Brown?

Is she watching him like he’s watching her?

After what feels like the longest and most uncertain staring contest, she pushes her fingers back between her legs. She doesn’t immediately put her head back, though. This time, she licks her lips and grips the edge of her chair with the hand she isn't using to fuck herself.

“That’s right, good girl, show me how you like it.”

He grips the steering wheel as he pumps himself until her mouth drops open and she starts to tremble. Her gorgeous tits bounce and her hips undulate, and, before he knows it, he’s spurting hot over his fist. 

+

She slams her head back against the headrest, sweating and panting even more than she was from the afternoon sun. She feels gooey and giddy, and light. She opens her eyes and heaves a sigh of satisfaction, pitching forward to look across the pool to Biggerson’s parking lot.

A flash inside the car lights a cigarette, and she catches the first glimmer of the dark stranger. He holds her gaze for a beat, the flame’s reflection dancing in eyes so dark they appear black, before throwing the zippo closed and roaring from the empty lot.

She sighs again as she sits up straight and ties her top back in place before standing, stretching, and striding toward the pool to dive in. The water is cool and calm as she strokes from one end of the pool and back again three times before barrel-rolling to her back to aimlessly float. A light breeze ruffles the leaves overhead, making the sunlight flicker like a strobe. 

After a while, she draws a deep breath before tucking into herself to blissfully sink to the bottom of the muted 4-foot depth.

+

“Sure.” Dean nods and rolls his eyes as Crowley nags him on the other end of the line.  

Crowley gave him a job, which is what brought him to her town, and he really should do it—to calm The Mark and keep the peace with the King of Hell—but he’d rather be knocking on her front door. 

Seeing her yesterday has completely derailed his plans. It’s been years since he felt an instant connection with someone like he feels with her. Separated by the green vining through the black chain link and shade inside his car, he felt her. He wants to feel more. 

“I’ll take care of it, OK?”

He isn’t lying, not really; he’ll take the guy out, just not right now. He’s... preoccupied.

“Now, Dean. Not tomorrow, not next week-”

“Yeah. I know. I’ll get it done. Bye.”

Dean cuts the line and tosses his phone to the passenger seat then looks up just in time to see her exiting her townhome. She’s wearing those stretchy kinds of pants women wear to the gym with heeled boots and a leather jacket. Dean has no idea what the fuck that outfit is all about, but her ass looks incredible. She takes even steps with her head held high. The view from behind her is infuriating. With every stride, her ass plumps and sways, and her wide hips tease him relentlessly.

He fires up the engine and puts the car in Drive before carefully pulling away from the curb to follow her. 

He pictures what she’d look like bent over the hood of the Impala. He imagines yanking those stupid fucking pants down to her knees and kicking her heeled feet wide. She’d moan and arch her back, presenting her perfect, bare ass to him. He’d smack it, and she’d yelp, begging for more. 

She’d beg. And he’d grab a fistful of her shiny black hair to twist and squeeze as he slammed inside her over and over.

“Fuck,” he groans, pressing the heel of his palm down onto his ever-present and now throbbing erection.

He watches her toss her hair as she turns into a storefront six blocks from her front door, and Dean slides into another parallel spot and waits.

+

The drugstore door closes behind her, and she’s instantly enveloped by artificially cooled air. One of the many things she despises about midwestern summers is the necessity of air conditioning. She procrastinates turning hers on inside her townhouse every season as long as possible, but when her clients begin to complain, she gives in.  

She doesn’t waste time browsing for anything other than what she came for—eye cream. Yesterday’s existential crisis is a distant memory, surpassed by him. 

She thinks it’s silly that he’s trying to be stealthy, parking a block down the road, like she didn’t see that ridiculous car of his in front of her house before she even opened her door. This game of cat and mouse is fun for her, though. There’s mystery and suspense. It distracts her from the mundane.

She pays for her eye cream and drops it into her handbag before replacing her sunglasses over her eyes. She doesn’t know the rules of this game they’re playing, but she’s never played by anyone’s rules except her own, so it doesn’t really matter.

Back out in the heat, she pauses before heading toward the restaurant to meet a friend for lunch. Sunlight beams off the chrome bumper of his car, making her squint even with her sunglasses on. She shields her eyes and tosses him a smirk, then turns to walk the other direction.

+

She sees him now, and she saw him yesterday.

That fucking smirk of hers is the guarantee he needs. Every step she takes and every move she makes is an invitation, and he has to think long and hard about whether that’s a good thing or not. Because he’s sure that not only does she see that he’s watching her, but that once she sees him up close and personal, she’ll see who he really is.

She’s a kindred spirit. He knows this as well as anyone knows when they find that person, that connection. He doesn’t know what the connection is exactly, but he knows it’s there, and it’s undeniable.

But can she hold her own with him?

He decides to follow her with renewed purpose. 

+

After lunch, she stops at a consignment shop, the florist, and the liquor store. She wanders along the selection of wines, row by row, waiting. She doesn’t have to wait much longer, though.

“Lotta choices, huh?”

The ticking of her heart speeds up from the sound of his thick, masculine voice. It’s only been 24 hours, but she’s been on tenterhooks, willing him to approach her, and it’s finally happening.

Then she turns to face him and gasps.

He’s gorgeous—tall, broad-shouldered, perfectly proportioned, defined, angular jawline, thick eyelashes, and a mouth that has her rapidly dampening her underwear. But it’s his eyes that give her pause. 

Sparkling obsidian. She wasn’t imagining what she witnessed yesterday. Then he blinks to reveal the most exquisite jade. Her skin crackles with anticipation. He’s like no one or thing she’s ever seen before.

She wants to know everything.

“Small talk? After all we’ve been through together?” she murmurs, shifting into him like he’s a black hole that will never let her go. 

She can’t- won’t deny him.

+

He narrows his gaze and slowly tilts his head, studying her face. 

“Honey, we can talk about anything you want.” He scans her bright, whiskey eyes and the straight bridge of her nose leading to the enticing pitch of her top lip. “But I’d rather do something else with my mouth.”

Her eyelids flutter and he chuckles, teasing the backs of his incisors with the tip of his tongue. He reaches for her, tucking one hand under the back of her hair and bringing her the last few inches closer. 

“Like what?” she whispers, and he meets her trembling lips with a firm, insistent kiss. 

“I think you know,” he mutters, turning and pressing her against the selection of Australian whites.

She hums, draping her arms around his neck. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Dean drags her flush against him by her waist and twists his fist in the back of her long, raven hair. And he tells her what she wants to hear.

“I’m gonna taste every inch of you.” He mumbles against her throat and lower. “I’m gonna suck those beautiful tits and bite your tight nipples.” He pushes a knee between her thighs and lifts until his leg meets the hot, damp crotch of her thin, stretchy pants, then scrapes his teeth over the shell of her ear. “And I’m gonna lick and play with your little clit until you're begging me to fuck you. And then I’ll lick you some more.”

She grinds over his thigh. “We gonna do this here?” she breathes. 

Dean huffs a laugh as he steps away, setting her back on her own two feet. He holds her hand and her gaze. “Yeah, I know how much you like an audience. But I want you naked and I don’t wanna share you.”

She swallows and nods. “What’re we waiting for?”

Dean grins and spins toward the door, leading her out into the afternoon sun.

Dean Winchester Masterlist | MJ’s Masterlist

[ghost-1-y]

cw: implied stalking

(a lil teaser from my Incubus!Gojo x AFAB!Reader fic hehe):

“Such a waste to not take care of a pretty thing like you…” a voice drawled, and you opened your eyes – fearing that someone had trespassed into your home, only to find nothing out of the ordinary inside your little guest room. You sighed, thinking that you must’ve been hallucinating – sleep paralysis was a possible explanation, after all.

The voice, however, returned, chuckling in response to your eyes frantically searching for the source. “Oh, sweetie, your eyes can’t see me!” it exclaimed, as though it were obvious, “but I can see you, pretty, I’ve seen all of you.”

[wxnheart]

Hi new! I don't know if you take requests but can I borrow a Yandere!Spot x Reader?

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Ready or not Here I come You can't hide Gonna find you And make you want me.

Just as he's obsessed with seeing Miles fall, he's obsessed with elevating you. To what end, you'll never know. You don't think you want to know. You do your damndest to avoid wanting to know.

Perhaps it's his desire for 'normalcy' that draws him ever closer to you. You represent the everyday person for him, life uninterrupted and content, drifting through society unabashed. A life that wasn't taken from you. Not like it was taken from him. He wants it back.

Spot's awkward gait and affable nature are dangerously disarming. If you weren't aware of what he was capable of, the thought of being charmed by these qualities—well, as charmed as one could be by whom you originally thought was pathetically harmless as far as villains go—genuinely terrified you.

Despite his misguided obsession with you, he's not above using his abilities to keep tabs on you. He's not above scaring you into submission.

You've tried to run away from him multiple times, and every time you've been scared shitless when you felt the playful tap of his finger on your shoulder and you wish you couldn't pick up the underlying enmity in his quip. How dare you. Where ya going, hot stuff? 🖤

He finds your attempts humorous at best and a slight inconvenience at worst, because wherever you go, there he is. Has a tendency to toy with you by getting your hopes up sometimes. It's cute the way you breathe a sigh of relief when you think you've succeeded. 🖤

If you haven't already, because of Spot, you've developed an aversion to dark places (especially doorways) because you've lost count of the number of times he's used the darkness to his advantage and surprised you.

Thanks to him, the sight of polka dots is rage-inducing and terrifying.

You've seen more than one person ambling along innocently with the same awkward gait and god, you wish you could scream. Well, you could, but you fear attracting the Spot's attention. And he will come.

But oh, hey, what do you know, gorgeous? If you can't give him what he wants, another you can. The perks of Miles turning him into a freak, eh?

Because trust and believe, his obsession with you spans the multiverse, darlin'. Gives you something to think about, huh? 🖤

[cor-lapis-candy]

@venusandsaturnsrings the fucken fantastic writer they are turned a spew of my words into wonderful filth and I wanna return the favour with something in return.

So here we have more nasty obsessed childe and his very not slimy lust for you!

I had this written for so long and just needed the push to give it to someone as a character and they deserve more Childe filth.

Minors DNI or I will block you.

If anyone was to look into his camera roll they would see the normal things, screenshots from his work, saved memes, and other random photos of various things, but one gallery was for him and him alone locked and kept behind a password that was several letters and numbers that would mean nothing to anyone but him. That gallery was his digital shrine to you and your form, every picture was taken either as a joke or when you hadn't been paying attention, a few even darker in how they show you vulnerable and sweet but those are for his eyes only.

But here and now in the dark of his room, PC abandoned as some stream plays in the background, phone in hand and pants just barely pulled down, there would be nothing stopping him from enjoying the pictures he had of you to the fullest. Letting the gallery play like a slideshow of your face and body, pausing on certain pictures where he can see more than just small slivers of skin, eyes glued to the beach photos he had managed to nab from your socials.

The sight of you drenched and smiling so widely at the camera had him spiralling, though blooming of how you would look fully naked in his shower, hair pushed back working his soap into your skin, laughing when you catch him staring, reaching out to him and pulling him into the water with you uncaring of how his clothes would get drenched.

The idea of you being in his home, bare, fluttering your eyes at him and letting him touch you as the water cascaded down your back had his cock throbbing in his hand, drops of white dribbling past his still-moving hand and covering his phone screen is the cum that his mind was still painting your form in, still filling his head and making his shoulders and highs shake as his hand keeps going, keeps flicking his wrist and wrings another orgasm from him.

When the pleasure turns to pain does he stop, hand falling away as his cock finally softens, sensitive and oh so spent, flopping back wards onto his chair, cringing at the mess he had made of his phone, white spots of cum coating the screen, edges and the desk around it, a true mess if he had ever made one.

But the sight gives him one last idea, making him whine as a tightness in his gut stirs, sure it may have only been a picture of you now coated in his cum but his mind whispers about what it would look like if it was actually your face or better yet the mess he could have made between your legs.

The nickname childe has for you flashes under the mess of his cum from your number and his cock is half hard again, now all he had to do was clean up this round of cum and answer you, hopefully, you were wanting him to come out to see you…

[cobwebs-in-autumn]

Ghostface!Reader stalking Johnny and blowing up his phone all the time, playing games with his head and accidentally falling in love as you watch him lose his mind and become paranoid, flinching every time his phone rings. He’s too scared to watch horror movies anymore but that’s okay, you think the film you’ll make with him will be much more entertaining.

[crestoflames]

i think wayne is a very well-crafted character because i do feel a visceral sort of dread when he’s around, and it doesn’t have anything to do with him being undead or supernatural or whatever. that only plays a part in that it makes him way more powerful than your average person, meaning he doesn’t seem to have many limitations that keep him from getting what he wants.

no, the dread and disgust wayne makes me feel is the same i’ve felt when being powerless to a harasser who won’t listen to you no matter how much you plead with him to leave you alone. you never know where he is, and in chapter 4 especially, he intrudes into your personal space (your room) when you’re gone and when you’re there (the ending where you go back with tabitha after talking with stella).

he could hurt you at any moment, and even though he says he won’t, what has he done to prove that? nothing. you are utterly powerless to him and what he wants, and that’s truly terrifying.

there’s also an added aspect if you’re woman-identifying or femme-presenting, as it’s a real and present danger you face frequently. except this creepy man doesn’t have any limitations to his stalking, and you just have to do your best to explain to everyone about what’s going on. taking advice to just go to the police gets you nowhere.

a lot of people don’t even believe you, and if they do take you seriously, they just lament the situation and give you half-hearted platitudes about how much it sucks. you are truly alone. some people can relate but no one will truly realize how dangerous this man is until he has achieved his end goal. and we don’t even know what that is yet.

that’s true horror that ties enough into real life to be legitimately frightening. it’s brilliant and it makes me feel so many things. this game is fucking amazing. everyone play scarlet hollow please

[kneelingshadowsalome]

omg I'd love to know anything about DOG (this is ceil), even the barest bones of the plot

Ceil!!! 💕✨️ Ok so DOG is a horrible horrible fic (you might like it!), the premise of the plot is can you fall in love with a mentally ill mercenary who has decided that you’d make a great girlfriend. So yeah, not a comfort read (to some :D)

König is very crazy and rotten in this fic, just awful when it comes to women and has his screws a little loose. Sends the usual cavalcade of unsolicited dick pics and masturbation videos and lovebombs her and before long starts to talk to her like she’s his girlfriend already. Threatens to kill people if she doesn’t answer him, the police won't help, eventually König appears at her door and says he wants to “take care of her” (starts by dicking her down 🫡). Also our girl develops an obsession of her own when she finds out her stalker is rather hot even with that crooked smile and a broken nose, so she’s not entirely sane either...

Here’s an excerpt (aftermath of the masturbation video):

And this fic is not very poetic, the first few chapters look mostly like this because they’re constantly bickering in her dm’s:

[crybaby-bkg]

Week One, Day Three of Kinktober 2022

Somnophilia: Boku no Hero Academia: Midoriya Izuku 

Word Count: 1.3k

Tags: non-con somonophilia, Yandere Deku, obsession, breaking and entering, tit fucking, mentions of stalking, cumshots, slight manga spoilers

Deku was always so interested in you. Maybe it was his ugly habit of hyper fixating on things he liked and wanted to know more about, or maybe it was the even uglier face of obsession that always hid behind his wide smile. 

He couldn’t help it, honestly. He thinks that maybe it’s because he was born this way, something done that he couldn’t change, even if he wanted to. But honestly? He’s not sure if he wants to. 

You’re just too interesting for him not to obsess over you. Too careless. Too clumsy. You don’t watch your back enough, don’t monitor your surroundings, just careless, an airhead almost. Now, it's not a bad thing—not at all—but it makes you subjected to his curious knowledge of how you could survive in a world without him. 

Like now, as he makes his way through your house because of an unlocked window. Yeah, you lived on the eighth floor and didn’t necessarily need to worry about someone breaking in, but what if someone tried it anyway? Good thing he was there, and could lock it for you using Float to peer inside your windows. 

Izuku told himself he was only there to lock it, so how did he wind up inside your home? Looking through your kitchen, reminding himself to stock up your fridge before you wake, smiling at your pictures on the walls, stalking quietly down the hallway until he reached your bedroom door? How did he end up here, standing above your bed, admiring how pretty you looked when you slept?

It was a hot night, so your covers were strewn around your half naked body, your shirt hiked up under your breasts, your panties clinging to your skin. Izuku finds himself tracing invisible patterns on your sticky flesh, smiling softly to himself when you shift and frown, head lolling around on the pillows as you grumble quietly to yourself. 

“So cute,” he whispers under his breath, finding the courage to gently sit down on the edge of your bed to pet softly at your skin once more. He does this for what feels like hours, tells himself that this is a necessary step to making sure you’re okay, plays doctor in his mind, checks all over your body for anything abnormal or wrong. When he finds nothing, he sighs under his breath, hands slithering up until they rest under your breast once more. 

Would he be wrong for touching you like this? He’s overheard you talking about how much you loved him as a hero to your friends and family, so you wouldn’t mind if he touched you a little then, right? It was only fair—he protected you so much without you ever realizing it! Abandoned other duties in other places just to make sure that you got home safely, he did everything for you. The least you could do, if not acknowledge him in the waking world, is let him play with you while you slept and get out all of his frustrations. 

So Izuku unzips his hero suit until his leaking cock hangs heavily from its confinements, breathing harsh as he adjusts his position until he kneels above you on the bed. He’s careful of how much weight he’s applying, your old creaky bed wanting to betray his presence above you, but you’re sleeping hard enough that you only grumble again before stilling and quieting. 

With a shaking breath, the green haired man slowly lifts your sleeping shirt until it rests against your collarbone, your soft and pretty tits exposed to the muggy air of your bedroom. Izuku has to clench his eyes shut and clamp a tight hand around the base of his cock to keep from spilling all over you at just the sight. He’s seen you before, far away and in glimpses, but never like this. Never so close that he can see your every delicate breath, how soft your skin looks in the moonlit glare casting from your bedroom window, your pretty areola’s, how heavy they might feel in his palm, or even on his tongue. 

Izuku huffs as he grabs both of your tits in his hand, stilling when you scrunch your face up before falling neutral again, laying against the bed once more with a sigh. He stays still for a moment longer before he starts moving again, rolling your hard nipples in his palms, groping the fat on your chest, emerald eyes quickly glancing between the show at hand and your face to see if you’re gonna wake up. 

Izuku spits down on the valley between your breasts as quietly as he can manage, finally releasing a tit so that he can tug at his cock, spread the wetness on the thick appendage so that the inevitable slide between your tits can feel damn near euphoric. 

And it does—it really fuckin’ does. Izuku has to remind himself that he won’t always get an opportunity like this, as he slots his thick dick in between your breasts and starts fucking them slowly with deliberate rolls of his hips. He grunts quietly when you shiver and moan in your sleep, eyebrows screwing up as he sees your hips arch off of the bed from his peripheral. 

“You like that, baby?” He grunts to himself under his breath, green lashes fluttering as he watches his brown tip peek from your cleavage with every thrust. He has to be careful to not bump your chin too hard or too many times, lest it feel like someone tapping you awake and you panic at the sight of the pro on top of you. 

But it’s hard to stay calm, hard to keep a consistent rhythm when he’s been wanting to touch you since forever. Izuku groans, hunching over you as the fat of your tits hug his shaft, the veins rubbing deliciously against the softness of your skin, the wetness from his precum aiding in his glide until a wet sound starts to slowly emit from the warm room. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Izuku groans through his teeth, throwing his head back as he starts pumping his hips even faster, holding your tits tight in his hand to keep you from moving too much, to keep the friction against his cock going. He grits his lip as the feeling gets too overwhelming, hips thrusting faster and faster, huffs falling from his mouth as he watches your own face screw up like you’re having your own dream. Maybe you dream of him? Dream of the Number One Hero climbing on top of you and taking you in every position you want? He’d do it, you wouldn’t even have to ask, to beg. He’d gladly fall on his knees and let you do whatever you wanted with his body, he was devoted to you, obsessed with you, in love with you—

Izuku can’t hold back his groan when he finally cums, creaming all over your chest and neck and jaw, a rope even reaching as high as your bottom lip. It’s not much, just enough for him to notice, as Izuku pants above you as he comes down from his high. His hips stutter a few more times, weak spurts painting your skin pretty. 

He wants to rub it into your flesh, paint you pretty with his seed, but you’re starting to stir more and he needs to clean you up. So Izuku hops off from on top of you and zips himself back up, darting into your bathroom to get a few wipes to clean your skin off. He presses a gentle kiss to every exposed inch of your skin, smiling when you chuckle softly in your sleep and shift a little. 

Izuku looks you over one last time before he dumps the wipe, deciding to leave that little bit still on your lip as a treat for you to find in the morning. Maybe you’ll even come to the police department, where he plans on being in the morning for whatever reason, and file a report about a break in. Maybe you’ll bump into him and ask him for help, assistance, a little security from the Number One. Maybe then you’ll finally realize just how much he loves and cares for you, and maybe you’ll even feel the same way. 

[eulaliasims]

Back home, Claire burns her lunch, and an unexpected noise catches her attention as she's blowing away the smoke. She knows the boys are still at school, so...

MOTHERFU—

Claire: I know you don't have a key to this house.

Jordi: You left the door unlocked, Claire. I figured I'd come see my kids—

Claire: They're not here, they're at school.

Claire: I'm only going to tell you once—get out of my house.

Claire: Eileen? Can you come over?

[venusandsaturnsrings]

★彡 raspberry sorbet

synopsis: moving beyond the realms of friendship, Ajax smoothly beds you. infatuated and aroused, much like him, you indulge in a night of intense intimacy.

contains: 2.5k words, afab/fem reader, chubby reader, stalking mention, slight dubcon, f!receiving oral, blood sucking, aphrodisiacs, and p in v.

clandestine or otherwise naught, your meetings with Ajax remain amidst the dark. though bathed in the shadowy depths, it was impossible to ever truly feel afraid with his unbeating heart against your own. subzero fingertips and eyes reflecting the slightest bits of light, he was a sight sure to scare anyone unaware of his true nature; gentle. Ajax only ever touched you with cotton-soft hands and his teeth never close enough to so much as graze your skin. he had once indulged you that the distance between your skin and his mouth was not borne of repulsion but rather due to the crimson beneath. he could smell it from far away, saccharine and raspberries he said, to be so close had his muscles pulsing. never would he feed on you but the flow merely a scrape away from his own watering mouth was enough to have his head spinning.

it was turning into a miserable night. clouds pouring with enough rain to revert any drought and lighting crackling along the darkened sky. akin to ropes of silk, your disappointment was interrupted by mere wonder at the gorgeous display of light using the night sky as a canvas. your thoughts wandered to Ajax, ‘perhaps he’s fond of this weather?’ mentally you noted to ask him once he’s reached your home, though, it may as well be his home as well at this point considering how much he spent lounging around the space. a telltale rattle, a noise only possible from his nails, came from the glass separating your window from the cruel weather beyond.

unlatching and opening, Ajax awkwardly wiggled his way in forcefully and proceeded to hit the floor rather hard in his attempt to get out of the downpour as fast as possible. he huffed when his face made contact with the hardwood but stood up quickly with a crooked grin and shook himself of similarly to a dog. maybe he’d be a doberman? you scrapped the idea. with the floor now as wet as himself, Ajax slumped his body over to fully wrap you in his gangly arms, successfully soaking you as well in the process. the thought of being upset didn’t cross your mind as his affections were always endearing regardless of how much they ruined your clothes. he rubbed his cheek on the top of your head with a happy sigh and tightly gripped your waist, soothed from his run in the rain by your warm presence and body heat. fingers tugging at his drenched clothing, you urged him to take it off out of fear he may get sick, neglecting that it wasn’t possible for him to fall ill due to his biology. Ajax conceded regardless, stripping the wet cloth from his skin after making his way to your bathroom and piled it all upon the counter in a ball of dark jean and cotton.

“you’re soaked now too, only fair you strip down as well, sugar,” though the tacky pet name made your nose wrinkle you reluctantly followed. this wasn’t the first time he’d see you naked considering the way he liked to peer through your windows. despite his unsettling tendencies, it was near impossible for you to mind, simply brushing it off as his lack of social understanding from a life of incredible solitude. the reality was he fawned over your bare skin and often let his imagination go to work upon returning to his own makeshift home in the early hours of the morning. Ajax found you utterly tantalizing. now both fully nude, you filled the bathtub with warm water and lavender epsom salts. he had once commented on a candle you had burned, saying it smelled divine so you started purchasing only scents of lavender. curls of steam rose alongside the familiar floral and Ajax sighed happily from behind you. letting him sink in first, you followed to which he guided you to rest against his chest. small waves lapped at your chest and his torso where you both relaxed; warm. his fingers massaged along your scalp and neck, his chin rested on your shoulder. hands dancing along your skin, they gradually dipped along your arms before teasingly squeezing your chest. a yelp from you followed, jolting away from his body and turning to glare at the clearly amused ginger who quickly pulled you back against him. he hummed and rubbed his cheek against yours, mumbling something about how adorable he finds you.

“c’mon, let’s get out now my pretty blood bag.” you smacked his hands away from you and stood only to earn a sharp slap to the fat of your ass in return. you nearly whipped him with a wet towel but you knew his reflexes wouldn’t let that happen so you settled for scoffing at his lack of impulse control. once out of the water as well, Ajax helped to towel you off in a mock apology as he only took the opportunity to harshly grope you more through annoyingly adorable snickers.

sauntering back out to your bedroom, you rifled through numerous drawers to find something for both yourself to wear and for Ajax to finally clothe himself. you could only take seeing his lithe muscle and freckled skin for so long without turning into a puddle. a shirt and panties for yourself, some shorts and boxers you keep around especially for him as he never brings his own no matter the weather. it's almost as if he enjoys these intimately domestic moments with you? surely not. your mind looped back to the same excuse you always sowed yourself; he isn't familiar with the standards for relationships. friends don't strip and share baths together, skin to skin, and hands traveling across erogenous zones. friends don't intertwine their daily lives to the point of firm inseparability. friends don't look at each other the way he looks at you. and friends certainly never allow their bodies to press and pull the way Ajax is now doing to you.

hands pressed nearly imperceptible to your mid-section, he lead your body that was still yet to be dressed back with his own to gently seat you on the edge of the bed. he dropped to his knees between your own and gripped on of your hands to press a kiss to each fingertip as well as your palm. Ajax placed your hand to his cheek with a sigh and let his chin fall to the plush skin of your thighs, eyes closed. light lashes brushing along the tops of his cheeks with pale eyebrows furrowed slightly, an internal struggle obviously brewing. swallowing your words momentarily you admired just how gorgeous he is with somehow rosy lips, planes of ghostly skin, fangs permanently peeking past his mouth even when not fully dropped, and eyes a vast ocean of blue you're not sure you could ever fully decipher. you speak with a slight tremor, asking if he's alright or perhaps sick but your voice cracks over the word. time and time again you have to hammer it in your head that he can't get sick. 'Ajax cannot get sick. Ajax is not human.' a thought equal parts chilling and irritating. he hums.

"sick? maybe," his lashes flutter open to reveal that same sea you wished to dive in, to drown in. he pulls your wrist to his mouth, planting a kiss once more. "i think thats the word you'd use for it..." his words were barely above a whisper yet had a chill settling in your chest. is he messing with you? Ajax seems to pick up on your thoughts before you voice them, as per usual. "not sick in the sense of ill, sick as in 'lovesick'... do people still say that?" to which his lips traveled to your thighs where his head previously sat. you're hesitating mentally and physically. his slightly historic manner of speech was charming but a verbal admission of this nature wasn't something you had heard before. you could reason all the signs were there and, yes, you do really like him but the small spikes of insecurity clawed at your mind. "doll?" you hadn't noticed him call for you nor that his mouth stopped at the crease between your hip and pelvis. gulping and signaling him to go on, Ajax sighed, "cast away all doubts for me? enjoy the night while we have it, sweetness." you couldn't say you were relaxed per say but, you let him lay you back.

spine hitting the cool sheets and duvet, a shaky exhale left your lungs as Ajax kissed at your skin from your ankle to inner thigh. teeth still far from your skin, his slightly pointed tongue traced hearts across your flesh while his hands softly massaged your muscles to relax. with your legs over his shoulders, Ajax mouthed at the fat of your cunt as his drool slicked up everywhere it could reach. you weren't sure if the salivation was due to his desire of intimate flesh or that borne of your blood. all the same, he spread you open with long fingers and a low hum before licking from your dripping hole to your already sensitive clit. with a long life comes plenty of experience and Ajax makes that known with the way be begins to play your body like a piano. you imagine he'd give you an elaborate description, something about how you could be no less than a grand piano with keys of ivory. dwelling on your own little fantasies wasn't an option as he latched onto the pearl of your clit and prodded at the entrance of your cunt. his tongue drew shapes you couldn't recognize as he sucked along you in ways that already had you gasping and bucking desperately against his face. the hand not working itself into you slowly came to press upon your lower stomach, holding you down and giving him full access. his fingers gently stretched you open, curling and scissoring until you were keening and begging for him to speed up just that smallest bit more to reach your climax. you could feel him smile against you with his face thoroughly slicked up and, mercifully, he twisted his fingers perfectly along a harsh suck. neither alone or with another could you ever reach the godly pleasure he brought you. you clenched around nothing with an arched back and whines loud of his name paired with other nonsense. coming down from the sparks along your spine and trembling legs, you released his soft hair you hadn't even noticed was so tightly wound in your grasp. Ajax rested his cheek on your thigh once more with a smile though, this time, he was panting and his chin was soaked with the fluids that had leaked from you.

embarrassment couldn't grip you with the way he stood up and slid his calloused hands along all the skin he could touch. he gently repositioned you, with a strength you were still unused to, to be on your knees and elbows. he kisses along your neck and murmured small praises as he made sure you were comfortable for him. something about 'wanting to make this as painless as possible,' slipped past his lips but you didn't quite catch it through your post-orgasm induced haze.

"stay like this for me? you look stunning," his voice was still low and coated in a thick glaze of love. you nodded and made a noise of agreement before he lifted your hips a touch further and rubbed the swollen and leaking tip of himself against your still sensitive entrance. you whined and keened for him to which he soothed you through soft shushes and a hand rubbing hip. the hot touch of him sliding his cock along your cunt brought you to reality, though only briefly, and through your whimpers you questioned if he'd be putting on a condom. Ajax leaned down with a chuckle and shake of his head, "condom? what would i need that for, doll? you've been mine since the second you let me in your home." you could feel his teasing grin against your neck while he pushed himself in.

he wasn't exactly gentle but not rough. Ajax was attempting to ride the line between cementing your obedience and still letting you have that humanly sense of control. in his eyes, you're his the way you always have been but he's willing to cut a few corners in favour of easing you into a more subservient role with as little pushback as possible. he swallowed the saliva that had gathered in his mouth and, with his face pressed to your neck and cock pressed to your insides, he gently pierced you with his fangs. the slip of his fangs felt like a seering burn before a feeling of utter bliss washed over your body. it was almost like you had been moved out of your body yet you could still feel the movements of his cock and hands dragging all over you to pull as many orgasms out of your tight cunt as he could. slightly light-headed, you could feel yourself spasming around his dick and achieving a high that could only be described as heavenly. 'Ajax is not human.'

droplets of blood slipped past the small wound he had made and dribbled down your shoulder before being caught by his tongue. the taste was everything he imagined it to be, saccharine and raspberries, but perhaps it was you that made it so sweet, not some other factor like blood type or diet. only you could allow him a flavour so perfect against his palate and perfect along his cock. Ajax groaned into your ear, though to you it was heavily muffled, as he spilled himself into your clenching and already soaked pussy. hands roaming your skin and mouth planting further kisses, he worshiped your body in a reverent manner. as you now know his destined status as your lover and so kindly let him feed upon your blood, it would be wrong not to be the most devoted follower at your alter. he lovingly lathed his tongue across your neck till the bleeding had ceased and rolled you into his arms. between the blood loss and mind shattering fuck you had just received, consciousness wasn't going to last long. before you could slip off to rest amongst ruined sheets and Ajax's body, he whispered directly into your ear.

"you truly are a special girl. a feast for both my body and stomach," he paused to kiss where he had bitten to emphasise his point, "i will continue to protect you. i'm forever yours as you are mine, sugar." Ajax held you past sleep and into the morning, where he'd praise you once again, a sinner at your feet.

[lxvvie]

Oh no, honeybee, you are not just drop a thought like that and skedaddle! Come on! Just a crumb of darker CoD, please? Just a crumb?

Oh, that was quick. 👀

I can drop one idea I had. It was based on this ask, and I pretty much expanded on it.

It would be from your perspective. A deconstruction of what he always tells your child(ren): "Be better than me..."

Simon's father reasons that if he can't have his home back then he'll destroy yours. And destroys it he does, or at least tries to.

Cue the gaslighting. Cue the stalking. Cue him speaking horribly about Simon. It amps up especially when he's away on deployment and you're starting to see the cracks, in you, your child(ren), and Simon. You begin to wonder if everything the spiteful bastard said about your husband was true...

But your husband has enemies and when those enemies catch wind of what's going on with Simon's father, they use that and the asshole to their advantage. If they can't get to Simon, they'll get to you.

But yeah, I wonder what dark ideas y'all had in mind. Dark and smutty. Dark and angsty, you name it!