#hes getting brutally gored and eated

[wafaaaahhh]

Zosky lays in hotdog bun shaped thing and Kaput does the unsurprising

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Dead beat down

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[ilium-ilia]

kill me again

john price x fem!reader

when your old life is too much to bear, you decide you ought to kill it and bury it. not knowing who else to turn to, you beg John Price to aid you in your endeavor. he decides he wants to give you much more than just a fresh beginning.

tw: inspired by kill me again (1989), domestic abuse/violence, blood kink, blood eating, smut, dub-con, unhinged john price, retired john price, manhandling, light breeding kink

The dreams start the day your husband first places his hands on you. 

Brutal violence completed in a drunken stupor that leaves you with a swollen eye and has your co-workers questioning what you’ve done to yourself—you exercise a rigid equanimity that has them believing the honey coated lies that drip from your tongue. You play this game well—practiced for many years, shrouded beneath quiet smiles and well placed clothing. You keep this composure no matter what falls upon you. Be it his fist, or his lips. 

There is no time to crack or fracture, lest your dream slip between your fingers like fine grains of sand. This liberation—your deliverance—grows closer by the day in the form of hidden clothes and a separate bank account. A suitcase wedged in the boot of your car. A full tank of gas. An internet history littered with searches for a new home. Apartments you can rent. Someplace out of the way. Far from the city. Hidden in the depths below lowering skies and thick forests. 

Except he finds it. The empty dresser drawers, vacant of your clothes, and the letters from the bank about your new account. How your other one is emptied. You find him sitting in his recliner, stupid fingers choking a beer bottle, breath heavy with liquor and eyes brimming with a virulent desire to teach you a lesson. 

And he does. It’s a lesson he teaches well. One that sets every inch of your skin ablaze and leaves snot pooling in the back of your throat as your hands claw at thick forearms. 

“Think you can fucking leave me?” he questions. It’s slurred, but you’re not sure if it’s because of the liquor or the squeezing of his fingers on your throat. “The only way you’re leaving me is when you’re dead. Get that through your thick skull you stupid cunt.” 

So close. Tender and ripe, seeds waiting to spill into your mouth, gullet waiting to swallow—then, taken. Dumped on the edge of the bed. Shoved into overflowing drawers. Fabric stained with tears, suitcase shredded with the knife meant for your gut, offals ready to taste the sour breath of your malevolent lover. 

Your fantasies fade like smoke on warm water. They dissipate into the air, vanishing, utterly forgotten by your mind and soul as you cook for a man who spits at you, dead bed heavy in the evenings, mornings algid enough to leave you shivering. 

Until—one day—you finally wake up. 

“I need you to kill me.” 

It’s been years since John Price has laid eyes on you. Several tours around the world have kept his mind busy with paperwork and his hands occupied with a gun. He’s spent so long wading through the gore of war that he’s not sure he’s gotten the gunpowder to wash free from his skin quite yet. 

Maybe that’s why you ask this question of him, trembling on the other side of his desk, nails digging into the bottom of your seat, bottom lip quivering. His wrinkled crows feet deepen in the creases of his eyes as he smiles at you, a chuckle rumbling in his throat. 

How strange for the one who got away to find his way back to him under such peculiar circumstances. 

“Not really kill me,” you clarify. You’re picking at your cuticles. He notices they’re not painted anymore like you used to when the two of you were younger—before he went off to be a hero and before you were stolen by another man. “I just- John, you’re the only one I can trust with this. I need to vanish.” 

“You want me to help you fake your own death?” he asks incredulously. 

“Tell me you’ll do it,” you beg. 

It’s far-fetched, even for him. Though it’s a set of skills he has honed for many years, that life is behind him now. Idolized in dog tags shoved in the back of the closet and pictures he can hardly stand to look at anymore. These days, he does office work. Paperwork that strains his tired eyes while wearing suits that make his skin crawl. 

“I think you’re taking the piss out of me with this one, sweetheart,” he says jocularly, cheeks pinching as he smiles. 

“He beats me, John.” 

A blink—then, there’s red. Ichor stains his vision, casting you in vermillion light. A glossy sheen coats your eyes, reminding him of the lacquered dolls his grandmother used to collect when he was a child; sitting pretty and pristine on ivory shelves. Hair so delicate and meant for petting, but always just out of his reach. 

“I tried to get away, but he caught me. He nearly killed me that night. I was terrified, and I just- I can’t go to the cops. They won’t work fast enough, and I have nowhere else to go, he’s taken everything I have. Please. If you don’t do this, if you don’t kill me, then he will.” 

John folds—wet tissue paper caught in the wind. “I’ll take care of it.” 

That night, John Price does not sleep. 

There’s a cottage that lines the environs of a lake where the bramble is thick and the bushes produce sweet berries in the summertime. Bequeathed to him after the death of his grandfather, it’s been sitting vacant for decades. Rotting from the inside out as time decays the wood and bevels the roof. 

His hands dance. Hammer and nails. Saws and axes. Paint drying on walls. Within three weeks it’s fit enough to be a home. A bedroom large enough for two, and a second room to be whatever you wish—a library, an office—

—a nursery. 

“How much do you need?” 

Your voice is quiet; squeaky like a mouse. The needle pinched between his fingers has your hairline glistening and throat bobbing. There’s swelling on the apex of your cheek, edema bleeding into your eye, but he does not mention it as he pierces your arm, drawing blood into a tube and letting it drip into a bag. 

“Only enough to kill you,” he quips. 

He does this three times. Spread over aching weeks where you’re riddled with migraines and dizzy spells so violent you find your hands gripping the walls at work. Your co-workers look at you with narrowed eyes as they pass you in hallways despite your gracious smiles and reassuring nods. 

Five months after the day you begged John Price to kill you, he finally does it. 

Stale bleach stings your nose as you stare at the hotel bed, stiff sheets perfectly creased along the edge of the mattress, pillows fluffed and pristine. John stands behind you, leather gloves stretched over his hands as he toys with the bags of your blood and the knife he intends to leave behind. 

Your heart thuds so violently in your chest that you feel it traverse up your throat where it swells, ready to burst. Freedom is so close you can nearly taste it. 

“Ready?” John’s voice is even—rough like steel. You shouldn’t be surprised. You doubt the blood scares him anymore. 

Nodding, you glance over your shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” 

There are several steps to John’s plan—ones he stresses the importance of following perfectly. Obeying, you knock the lamp over at his command, letting it topple to the floor where the lampshade bends and the bulb flickers. When he shoves you onto the mattress, leaving you to stare up at him with wide eyes, he only chuckles. Tells you that he has to make it look believable. There’s no murder without a struggle. 

Gloved fingers rustle the blankets up around you as he manhandles you into different positions along the bed. Despite his firm touch, there’s no pain that lingers or blood that pools in your arms like when your husband touches you. You giggle. Anxiety and relief coalesces into a raging river in your stomach, frying your nerves until there’s nothing left but adrenaline. 

Quirking a thick brow, John looks down at you, leather gloves tracing your ankle as he straightens himself. “Having fun?”

“Sorry, I’m just… so nervous.” But you’re smiling wider than he’s ever seen you before. 

When it comes to the blood, John spills it on top of you. Legs caging the side of your hips, he pierces the bag with his knife and lets it drip over your chest, your stomach, the mattress—when it stains his pants he tells himself he has nothing to worry about. Soon enough, your DNA and his will be used to mingling. It’ll be natural. Necessary. 

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” you breathe. The blood is cold against your skin but it spills as if it were warm. Pooling in your neck, sticking to your palms, John tells you to paw at the duvet, and you do. “You said there’s a cottage I can stay at? We’ll be heading there next, right?” 

“Mhm. Fixed it up nice and pretty for you, sweetheart,” he confirms. 

You beam, skin illuminated with your own blood, clothes sticking to every curve of your body. John tosses the first bag to the side before adding another one, this time making sure to wet his knife and fling it, high impact splatters staining the wall, the ceiling, your own face. 

Then, he grabs you again, leather pressing into your wrists as he pins you. He assures you that he’s just making the scene more realistic, an act well done, but the whimper that leaves your lips is very much real. He stares down at you, and the way your eyes trace the way his beard lines his mouth, and he thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful than this—on the precipice of escape. 

“John…” His name bleeds off of your tongue.

He’s done for. 

You keen pretty for him when his knife slices through your shirt, exposing your breasts, torso gleaming with ichor like wine. When he decides to have a taste for himself, you can hardly wiggle against the flat of his tongue on your stomach. He smothers your protest with a kiss. You’re rigid against him, lips like cement left out to dry in the sun, but then, you melt. You deliquesce beneath his touch, gloved hands raking down your body, yanking your pants off before your mind can fully make sense of it. 

When he feeds his cock into your aching cunt, he tells you this is how he seals the agreement—a proper bond, an unbreakable promise. This is how he kills you, with thrust after reaming thrust, nestling into the deepest parts of you that your husband has yet to destroy. And when you clasp your hand over your mouth to stifle the moans that leave your mouth, and he catches the glint on your ring finger, he snatches it. Metal free from your skin, he tosses it; lets it topple along the musty carpet before interlacing your fingers with his. 

Then, you’re a corpse. Lifeless beneath him, chest heaving with heavy gasps as your eyelids flutter shut, thoroughly fucked until your brain is mush. He spills the final bag and drowns the room in it before he wraps you up in the blankets and moves you to his car. Bridal style. White linens like a dress. Red blood like the breaking of a hymen—this is your union. 

This is your fateful conjugality. 

Three weeks go by in the blink of an eye. The hours feel like mere minutes when your husband is no longer breathing down your neck, huffing his hate and vitriol into the shape of your spine. John brings you fresh groceries every few days before leaving you on your own to wander the edge of the lake and collect flowers to place in your windowsill. Every morning you wake up and the bed is warm. You can cook without the television blaring or a man grumbling. Your fridge is not marred with alcohol. 

On the morning of the third week, there is a forearm around your waist.  

You startle until you feel John’s voice purr against your ear as he wishes you good morning. His comfort fuzzies your mind to the point you don’t even bother to ask him why he’s here, or why his chest is pressed against your back. Instead, your muscles relax, body morphing to the shape of him. 

“Is everything okay?” you ask. 

John nuzzles his nose into the back of your neck. “Of course they are.” 

Truly, they are. He’s here in this bed with you, half naked and lazy, enjoying the way the daybreak gleams across your form. Everything is just as it ought to be—

—at least where you’re concerned. 

You have yet to notice the reports of your fictitious murder, or how the police found your diary where you recounted the events of your abuse. You have yet to notice the news of your husband’s arrest, or how he’s being charged with second degree murder.

You have yet to notice the fresh flowers resting on your nightstand, or the new ring on your left hand. 

But John tells himself you’ll learn all about this in due time. 

“How long are you here for?” you question, voice thick with your lingering slumber. 

John’s grin sticks to the back of your neck. 

“For the rest of my life.” 

[amnxp]

Hold me, please

Pairing: Joaquin x semi!avenger!reader (not really an avenger but reader does fight and is in a fight scene here)

Warnings: a looooooot of angst, brief fight scenes, some fluff, at the begining, open ending (bc i might make a part 2 if someone is interested), brutal injuries, gore, and also reader is not doing well mentally with Joaquins last mission

Word count: 2k

Summary: You get hurt on a mission that was supposed to be Joaquin‘s. Arguments start, words are said that cannot be taken back. What ever to do now?

A/N: I think my next few posts will be joaquin based but i will def throw in some jason todd fics! Also thank you so much for all the love Forget me Not got! All likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated and i have seen all!:)) As a thank you have a waaaaayyy longer Joaquin Fanfic. I hope you enjoy it<3

Pt.2

You feel him long before you see him.

A small smile grows onto your face as his goatee scratches and tickles your neck while he places kisses along your jaw. You had forced Joaquin a few weeks ago to let his beard grow in because you found him more attractive with it, and although he was reluctant at first—because he didn’t want Sam making fun of him—he very quickly learned that it indeed made you way more attracted to him. You open your eyes and turn around in his arms so that your face is pressed against his chest, one of your hands cradling the back of his neck.

"You smell really good, Joaquin," you murmur, placing a kiss on his Adam’s apple. You feel him shudder around you. “I was wearing that new cologne you got me yesterday,” he replies, his voice still thick with sleep. “Seems like it stuck.“

A low hum leaves you as you feel yourself slipping back into sleep.

"No, baby. We need to get up. It's late, and I gotta go meet Sam and Bucky." "Do you have a new mission? You just got out of the hospital, Joaquin. I don’t want you out there for at least two more weeks.". You sit up in bed, your back meeting the headboard. Joaquin leans on his side, propping himself up with one hand as he looks up at you with a goofy, shit-eating grin, chuckling.

"No, not a mission. Just a quick debrief of their last mission, and they wanted me to surveil an attack. I won’t engage at all, and I will be far, far, far away from any danger. I promise.". Every "far" is followed by a soft kiss on your chest, just above your heart.

You let out a sharp sigh and look away. Ever since his brush with death, you’ve been anxious, doting on him, taking care of him—you don’t want him out there anymore. You knew who he was, and you knew all the dangers that came with his job. You yourself would help them out here and there on their missions, but you would never call yourself an Avenger, a hero, or anything of the sort. And you certainly had never experienced such grave injuries before.

They had to restart his heart. He was gone. His heart—the one that holds so much love and so much joy—had stopped, and—

"Stop that." "I'm not doing anything." "You’re thinking too much about this. I won’t be near any danger, and after this, I won’t be asked to do anything for a month." He pulls himself from under the covers and makes his way to the bathroom, leaving you no room to start an argument.

As you stand up to get yourself something to eat, your phone begins to ring. It’s Sam. You pick up on the third ring.

"Hey, Sam." "Where are you? Is Joaquin with you?" You furrow your brows in worry at his tone. "No, he's in the bathroom. It's just me. What happened, Sam?" "We need you for a mission, but Joaquin can’t know." "Is it the mission that he’s surveilling? How exactly do you want him not to know, Sam?" "It’s a ruse." "A ruse? Am I your jack-in-the-box? Sam, just because Joaquin is on a break doesn’t mean you can go searching for others to just throw themselves headfirst into—" "I’m not asking."

"…Excuse me?"

"It is either you or Joaquin. And I wouldn’t have asked if this wasn’t absolutely necessary. Figure it out." Before you can even formulate a sentence in your head, he has already hung up.

A minute later, you receive a text from Sam—coordinates, most likely where the mission is supposed to take place.

You exhale deeply through your nose before moving to the kitchen. Breakfast is bland, unsatisfying. A little while later, Joaquin steps out of the shower, fresh and clean, already dressed. He grabs some fruit, kisses the top of your head, and bids you goodbye.

For a few minutes after Joaquin‘s departure, you stare at the kitchen wall. No sound, no movement, just the weight of your own heavy breathing. The more you think about Sam and his mission, the more you feel yourself stress. Your left ear starts ringing heavily as your head starta to sway. The harsh ringing of your phone yanks you out, and you quickly pick it up.

"I’ll be there in ten, Sam."

"Does Joaquin know? He just arrived and seems a bit skittish."

"No, I didn’t tell him anything, Sam. Can you keep an eye on him? At least until I’m in?"

"You got it. And thank you, for doing this."

———

It was supposed to be quick.

In and out. Grab the damn papers, throw anybody down who tried to get them, and get out before you get caught. And don’t kill anybody. That was what Sam and Bucky had told you.

Sam had even given you a headset to stay connected to Bucky as he stayed behind with Joaquin to surveil you and keep him off the radar. About five minutes in, your headset was crushed when one of the workers in the facility tried to bash your head into the wall. Small shards and sharp pieces of the headset pierced the side of your head, leaving behind a deep cut just beneath your eye. Your ear was ringing again, and you could practically feel Sam start to panic.

It took you two elongated hours before you finally saw the front door cleared. You had been stabbed in your abdomen, and your hand—although pierced to bits as well—pressed onto your wound as best as you could. The other hand grasped the papers tightly in case anybody tried to rip them out again.

But as you made your way to the door, your legs gave out from just beneath you and— Damn it.

Everything went black.

Damn Sam and this stupid superhero bullshit.

…

You hear frantic voices, someone yelling for help. Two warm hands cradle your face, thumbs rubbing slow, soothing circles against your cheeks. "Mi cielo my sky, don’t do this here. Please, please, please. I’m sorry. I know it hurts. Baby, don’t you love me? You can’t leave me alone, please, baby."

That was all you had gotten before your body blacked out again.

---

The next time your body wakes again, your eyes open first. A bright, strong white light almost blinds you with its intensity, and it does nothing to help the blaring headache pounding away at your skull. As you move your head to the side, you spot Joaquin. He looks tired—eyebags under his eyes more prominent, his beard unkempt and grown thicker than the last time you saw him. His hand holds tightly onto yours. You try to speak, to move, to give him any sign that you’re awake, but you’re far too exhausted. Instead, you just hope he realizes it on his own.

The door swings open, and Sam and Bucky enter. Sam holds a large bouquet of flowers in his hands, while Bucky—who doesn’t look much better than you imagine you do—just stands idly by.

"How ya doin’, kid?" Sam places the flowers on the nightstand next to your bed. You let out a sigh and open your mouth to try and speak, but before you get the chance, Joaquin already startled awake.

"How long has she been awake? Why didn’t you wake me? Do you need the doctor? Hold on, let me—". He moves to press the call button, but Sam is quicker.

No one says anything after that. Joaquin simply sits to the side as the doctor checks on you, glaring between you and Sam. You already know—once the doctor, Sam, and Bucky leave—you’re in for a long argument. And it's ironic, considering you had just been in his position less than a week ago. It takes an excruciating hour before Sam and Bucky finally decide to leave.

All the while, Joaquin hasn’t muttered a single word. Sam apologizes, and Bucky tries to start a conversation, but he doesn’t get far once he realizes that nobody is responding to him.

In all honesty, you don’t want them to leave. You don’t want to start an argument with Joaquin when your body is still half-alive, still clawing its way out of the grasp of death. However, much to your surprise, five minutes after Sam and Bucky leave, Joaquin stands up as well.

"Where are you going?" Your voice comes out dull and scratchy from disuse.

"I’m going home. I’ll come back tomorrow."

"Joaquin—". He leaves.

You exhale a deep sigh, turning your head to stare at the wall beside you.

——

It takes you two weeks to be cleared to return home. And in those fourteen days, Joaquin comes to visit you only four times—each visit shorter than the last. You try to talk to him, try to get him to explain why he’s this upset when he himself does this nearly every day, but the only responses you get are a sigh, a roll of his eyes, or a very short, "I have to go." You quickly learn to leave it be. When the time comes, he does come to pick you up, driving you both home in complete silence.

The second you step through your front door, his entire demeanor shifts.

"Was this what you wanted from the start?" His voice is sharp and rough as he whips around to face you. His narrowed eyes glare at you with a pointed stare, his breath coming out heavy.

"What? Joaquin, what are you—"

"Did you want this to happen? Go on a mission, get yourself hurt, just to teach me a lesson? I just got out of the fucking hospital, and not even a week later, you’re in there. Are you out of your mind? Taking on a mission like that all on your own? No backup, nothing, and I wasn’t even informed that you were there! You all lied to me. You can’t even fucking fight. You’re not even a fucking Avenger. What the fuck is wrong with you?", his voice grows significantly louder with every word that tumbles out of his mouth, but all you can focus on is the last sentence.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Is.

Wrong.

With.

You?

"Are you out of your fucking mind, Joaquin? I took care of you for four fucking weeks—day in and day out! I got you food, I got you everything you wanted, and this is what I fucking get? I took the fucking mission so you wouldn’t have gotten hurt again, and you can’t even look at me. Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No, you don’t get to—".

You don’t let him finish.

You turn around, storming toward the door, and slam it shut behind you.

[hencheri]

make you mine

▸ 18+ mdni.

You've never suspected the evil would have taken the form of Jay, a hot guy from your college, but when he takes interest in you, you rapidly discover the secret he's been hiding.

| pairing. jock!jay x fem!reader

| wc. 5.7k

| warnings. graphic description of gore (mention of blood & injuries), dubcon, implied inexperienced!reader, unprotected sex, jay's kinda mean but hey he's evil so ain't my fault lol.

a.n.: jennifer's body au cause why not. old fic from an old blog, but it's still my fav of all time <3

Jay thinks he never felt that much pain in his whole entire life. It’s like his soul is screaming from the inside out, as if someone stabbed him in the stomach, tearing his guts apart. 

Oh, but that’s what actually happened…

How can he still be alive? He swears he was dead seconds ago, losing liters of blood through the cut in his stomach. But he’s very much conscious right now, getting out of the woods he was brutally murdered in. 

Well, is it still even murder if he survived? 

It doesn’t matter anymore anyway. All he can think about at this moment is how hungry he is. He would devour anything he can put his hand on, and god, why does the person on the other side of the street look so… edible? 

He feels the dried blood that dripped from his mouth stick to his skin as his hands are stained in the same red substance, holding his stomach where, surprisingly, he is no longer bleeding from.The pain is atrocious, but he needs to fucking eat, and so he approaches the person faster. 

The moment they notice him, their eyes grow bigger and they let out a strident scream, but Jay gives them no time to leave.

He doesn’t know what in the hell possesses him to jump on that poor human, his teeth becoming sharper than they ever were, shredding their neck in pieces, their screams slowly dying down as he eats like a starved animal.

The fresh blood is coating the dried layer on his chin. He feels like an uncontrollable beast, and he’s literally acting like one right now. No one with a right mind would have ever done this… but it’s like he isn’t a human. 

He was revived from the dead, there’s nothing human about him anymore. Nothing.

He has an idea as to why this happened. 

Those girls — that girl band who he seemed so enthralled by — sacrificed him, and for what…? For fame? For money? Whatever it is, they killed the wrong person because obviously the sacrifice didn’t fucking work. He’s still very much alive. 

He’s cursed now, that’s for sure. Or whatever the hell is happening to him. 

He looks down at his victim; it’s a man. 

He suddenly feels nauseous, vomiting what he had so far swallowed. A dark liquid comes out of his mouth, and god, it’s even more painful than the cut in his stomach. 

He feels disgusted by himself — why isn’t he full? Eating felt so good, considering how starved he was, but it’s like he ate something … expired. 

What’s wrong with him… He ate someone’s guts, of course it doesn’t taste like a 5 stars meal. Then why did his instinct tell him to do that? 

That’s fucked up. 

The next few days are horrible for Jay. 

After that night, he doesn’t eat anything except for raw chicken and other types of meat that are just not enough to satiate him. It doesn't taste good either. 

He lays in bed most of the time, having no energy, skipping the gym and his practices, which he usually never does. He gets texts from his friends, but he doesn’t bother to check his phone. 

It’s on Sunday night that he decides to leave his bed, going to look at himself in the mirror. He has big dark circles under his eyes — not particularly flattering. He’s still very hungry, but none of the food in his fridge makes him want to eat. 

There’s one thing he’d want, though… 

It’s when he receives a text from a specific person that he knows what to do. 

iseul: hey, jay. wanna study together for the finals?

—-

“Hey, man,” Jay’s teammate, Jungwon, greets him. “Heard about Hana? That’s fucked up,” he says, walking beside his friend. “And right after Iseul… My parents refuse my sister to go out alone now.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Jay replies, not really caring, but still listening. 

It’s not like anybody liked Hana before, he doesn’t understand why everybody suddenly cares now that she’s dead. She needed to die to finally have some importance. How sad. 

She wasn’t that good of a laid either, so really, what’s the matter? Sure, it’s tragic, but who’s going to miss her besides her family. 

“Can’t be an animal at this point,” his teammate says under his breath, “Do you wanna know what I’m thinking?”

Not really…

“What?”

“I’m thinking it’s gotta be some ‘Jack the Ripper’ kinda guy. You know those freaks who wanna be the modern this or that.”

Kind of offensive… 

Jay rolls his eyes without Jungwon noticing, snickering at his words.

“The police’s saying it’s a bear or some shit,” Jay explains, reaching his class. “That’s more believable than your ‘modern Jack the Ripper’.” He mimics quotes with his fingers, stopping in front of the classroom. 

Jungwon still doesn’t seem convinced, but it’s not Jay’s job to make him less stupid. He can believe what he wants, he’s not an investigator even though he thinks he is. 

“See you at practice, alright?”

“Yeah, later, man.”

Jay has never been very attentive in class. He doesn’t care about a lot of things and college is one of them. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for his parents and their high expectations of him. 

He’s looking outside the windows, noticing the grey clouds, heavy rain pouring from the sky. A flash of lighting breaks through the sky, hearing the thunder a second after. 

Nobody seems attentive either, all interested in the thunderstorm that’s starting. It might be the strongest they’ve seen in a couple of years. 

“Crap,” the teacher says as the electricity is cut off, surely because of the thunder. 

Girls are gasping, some of them whispering to each other about how creepy the situation is while the professor waits for the power to get back on.

Jay’s phone lights up as he gets a new notification. He takes a look, reading the text he just received. 

jungwon: practice’s canceled.. 

Great, Jay thinks. He really needed to get some steam off, but it won’t happen today. 

“Sir!” A girl raises her hand, catching the attention of the professor. “All classes got canceled. Can we leave? Apparently the power isn’t coming back for a few hours.”

The professor seems quite disappointed, but he lets everyone go back home, seeing no point in staying if he can’t teach. 

While exiting the classroom, Jay gets bumped into by someone. He doesn’t move much, but the person drops their books on the floor, bending down to pick them up hurriedly. 

“Shit… Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you apologize, standing back up when you have all of your books in your arms.

“It’s fine,” Jay mumbles and you give him a straight smile.

He recognizes you from highschool, a girl he never talked to, but who he knew the name of. Then, he watches you walking away for a short moment, eyeing the curves of your silhouette, memorizing it. 

—-

You’re in the cafeteria, sitting with your friends, waiting for about a good 30 minutes now. The storm from yesterday is still ongoing, and the power is very unstable, cutting off every now and then.

The finals are scheduled for today and the administration told the students to come regardless of the storm, thinking it would stop during the night. So you’re waiting to be sent to the gym where the exams are usually taking place, but seeing the electricity goes off and comes back every second, it isn’t the best time to start an exam. 

People are free to go, it’s college after all, but most of the students are staying in case a decision is made. You know you wouldn’t want to skip your exam, that’s why you’re staying, even though it’s starting to get really long. 

No murder has happened since the beginning of the storm, confirming the police suspicions that it might be a wild animal doing this. A bear wouldn’t come out during a thunderstorm, hence why no bodies have been found or anyone going missing. 

You don’t really know what to think of the whole thing. You never really experienced anything of the sort before, only ever seen it in the news, taking place in a far away city. Now, it’s really different to be a witness of it.

You don’t understand how an animal would do such a thing, especially since they aren’t known to attack humans, or… eat them. But everybody is kind of desperate to find a culprit. 

As you’re looking through your notes, you notice that you’re missing a piece of information that you absolutely need to know for your test. You would ask your friends, but none of them are in this class with you. Plus, you forgot your book so the only solution would be to go to the library. 

The place is lit up by candles and oil lamps. The power doesn’t seem to have come back here either. 

The librarian isn’t even here, so you can’t ask her for directions, which would be really useful, but you’ll do without. You go to the biology section and start searching for the book you need. It takes you some time, carefully looking through the shelves until you notice an older edition of the book. You hope what you need is in there.

You start flipping the pages to the right chapter, but you jump out of surprise and drop the book to the floor at the sound of someone else’s voice. 

“Aren’t you supposed to attend your exam?”

It’s the guy you bumped into yesterday; Jay. 

What’s weird is that you didn’t hear him at all, you could have sworn you were alone in the library. You suppose he’s a really quiet walker.

“Uh, y-yeah,” you stammer out, furrowing your brows. You bend down to pick up the book, his eyes following your movements closely. “Just had to come here for this,” you say and show the object in question in your hand. “What about you?”

He leans on the shelves beside him. 

“Didn’t feel like wasting my time back there,” he explains and you nod, not really sure what he wants exactly… It’s not like you’re friends or anything.

You can’t see much of him with the low lighting in the library, but you still catch on the way he’s looking at you intently. It makes you slightly uncomfortable, considering he’s towering over you with all his height. And Jay is very tall compared to you. 

“Is- Is there something else you wanted to ask me…?” You manage to let out, voice a bit shaky and uneasy. 

“Are you scared?” he asks casually.

He steps closer to you, and you don’t understand why you don’t step back. It’s like you don’t dare.

“What?”

“The storm. Pretty intense, right?”

Is he really interested to know if you’re scared of storms or is he playing with you? Why would he even play with you in the first place, that’s what you wonder. 

His behaviour really confuses you. It’s true that you don’t know him, but he isn’t the type of guy to just… creep girls out. Maybe it’s not his intention though?

“Oh, yeah… it’s nothing I've ever seen before,” you confess in a small voice. 

“Me neither,” Jay replies. 

You hold the book against you tighter like it’s some sort of protection, or just as emotional support. You don’t know what’s up with him, but it has you feeling some type of way… 

You feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter as he gets even closer, trapping you between him and the bookshelves. 

Yes, you’re scared, but not of the storm… of him.

And… there’s a part of you that likes it — likes the attention he gives you, the way his dark eyes look at your body. His gaze makes you think of a carnivore, a predator. 

You’re the food he was looking for. 

“It’s really loud, isn’t it?” he observes. “I wonder… if you had to scream, would anybody hear you?”

That startles you right away. 

“Jay-” Saying his name seems to catch his attention, his eyes looking directly into yours. “Stop it.”

He doesn’t break eye contact, and you’re destabilized by how long he can hold your gaze, a shiver running down your spine, making the hair on your arms stand up. 

It’s only to whisper in your ear that his eyes leave yours. 

“Stop what exactly?”

His hot breath hits the side of your neck, hearing your heart pounding in your chest, the knot in your stomach becoming heavier and heavier. Your hands clasp around your book, holding onto it for dear life as you gulp down the excess of saliva in your mouth. 

You scrunch your eyes shut when you feel his hands on your hips, fingers sneaking under the hem of your top. Your core heats up, blood rushing to your cheeks.

“What do you want?” You breathe out, opening your eyes when Jay faces you again. 

He takes the book from you, putting it back onto the shelves, not caring if it’s the wrong placement. 

“Just a little bit of fun,” he answers, “wouldn’t you like that, hm?” He slips his index finger under the band of your skirt then, pulling you closer to him, his lips only centimetres away from yours. “I know girls like you are too shy to ask for it… So I’m making the first move.” 

“No, I-” You begin, but don’t have the time to finish your sentence. 

“It’s fine, I’m gonna take the lead. You don’t have to worry about anything, pretty,” he tells you, tilting his head and pressing a light kiss to your lips. Surprisingly, you reciprocate it. He pulls his hand away from your skirt, putting it around your neck instead. “I knew you’d be into it, you’re a little freak, aren’t you?” 

You don’t know what to answer. Is there even anything you can say back to him? What’s the point of lying when he has you trapped between his large body and the bookshelves, his slender fingers gripping your neck, his lips brushing over your face. 

But would that be really a lie saying he’s wrong about you? He doesn’t know you…

He kisses you again, this time sloppier, his tongue dominating yours easily. He nudges your legs open with his knee, his other hand swiftly diving under the hem of your skirt, groping your flesh in a lewd way that keeps you out of breath — apart from the fact that his tongue is currently exploring your mouth. 

He graces the bump of your pussy with his knuckles, making your knees buckle at the unexpected contact. He rubs the pad of his middle finger over your clit, a whine escaping your throat, muffled by his mouth on yours. The moment is brief until he slips his hand into your underwear. 

You try to make him stop by grabbing his wrist, pulling away from his lips to pathetically whisper a ‘please’ that makes him chuckle. 

“Already begging for me, sweetheart?” He softly laughs, smirking at you. “Excited by the idea of a guy’s fingers in your little cunt instead of yours? Is that it?”

You frown because that wasn’t the reason why you begged him, but now that he said this… your thoughts are going into a completely different way. What’s wrong with you?

“Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? How it’s like to have your pussy stuffed by someone else’s fingers…” 

He’s not waiting for an answer as he starts stroking your bud of nerves in slow circular motions, applying some pressure to really make you feel it. You let out another whine, this time of pleasure. 

Jay then shifts down to your entrance, circling it with a lot of delicacy, but this gentleness of his doesn’t go on for long as he pushes a finger into you. You bite down on your bottom lip — the size of his fingers are in no comparison to yours. Your eyes well up in tears, little cries escaping your mouth when he adds a second digit. 

“I know, I know,” he whispers, “must be uncomfortable, hm?” You nod your head, confirming his words. “It’ll feel good soon, I promise. You’re used to the feel of your tiny fingers, it’s normal…”

When he says this, you have a hard time believing him. How could it feel good when you weren’t at all prepared for this — when it’s not what you wanted. 

He begins to move his fingers inside of you, slow and long strokes at first, circling your clit with his thumb at the same time. He curls his fingers, making a little hook, patting your sweet spot. The intrusion is uncomfortable, but it progressively gets so much more pleasurable as he thrusts into you at a regular pace. 

Tears are still falling down from your eyes, eyelashes wet and sticky, but they aren’t the result of your pain… 

“You’re pretty when you cry,” Jay murmurs beside your ear, butterflies in your stomach when he tells you this. 

He unwraps his hand from your throat to instead grab your thigh, placing your leg around his hip. You now feel his fingers way deeper inside of you, gently and deliciously stimulating your g-spot. You dare to look down where his left hand is operating between your thighs, sliding in until he’s knuckles deep into your pussy. This makes you breathless, head rolling back on your shoulders and hitting the shelves behind you. 

“Oh, my god-!” You exclaim when Jay’s ministrations bring you so close to your orgasm. Your legs are twitching, your body warning you of your approaching high.

You’d probably be more aware of his hard cock trapped in his baggy jeans, but you literally cannot focus on anything else other than Jay fingering you, hitting your sensitive spot each time he thrusts in. 

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, moving faster. “You feel it? Huh?” He asks and you croak out a weak ‘yes’. “Tell me how it feels.”

You hate his questions — you hate them so much. He knows how you feel, but he wants you to say it, he wants you to say that you enjoy it, and… your body really does. 

“G-Good.”

“Yeah?” he breathes out, fucking your cunt with his fingers, enthralled by the little moans you let out.

“Yes,” you confirm, closing your eyes and nodding your head. “Fuck!” You curse out when you finally reach your high, grasping onto his forearm as you ride out your orgasm, your entire body shaking. 

Jay helps you by slowly rubbing your puffy clit in circles, telling you more dirty words in your ear, all said in the sweetest voice, as if what he’s doing can be described as anything sweet. 

“Good girl,” he praises, “see, I told you it’d feel great.”

He still has his head in the crook of your neck, and you frown at the feeling of sharp teeth against your skin. It’s barely there, just brushing over it, as if hesitating to act… but Jay retrieves back, looking into your reddened eyes. 

He could stop there, but he won’t — though he got what he wanted, he needs more… 

He pulls his hand out of your panties, fingers glistening in your arousal. “Open wide for me, baby,” he instructs. 

You glance at his hand, a little repulsed. You’ve never thought of tasting yourself and it’s surely nothing you’d have ever done if not for Jay. 

You then reluctantly open your mouth and he enters his wet fingers in. 

“Suck,” he adds on, expecting you to follow his orders, and you do without a second thought. 

He stares down at you while you lick his fingers clean and he slides them a bit deeper, pushing down on your tongue. The taste of yourself isn’t what you thought it’d be… It doesn’t taste much, in fact. 

He removes his fingers from your mouth only to put them in his own after. “As sweet as you are,” he grins. “Turn around.”

You hesitate for a moment, looking at him credulously, before doing what he asked you to do on trembling legs. 

“Are you…?” You say under your breath, looking over your shoulder and seeing Jay pulling the zipper of his pants down. 

“Going to put my cock into you?” he finishes your question, “yeah, I am.”

You stop breathing at his answer, sensing his deft fingers touching your thighs and hips, going under your skirt to drag your panties down. 

He soon gets his cock out of his briefs, pumping himself a couple of times before aligning his head with your dripping entrance. His right hand keeps your skirt crumpled up over your ass, laying the other one on your hip. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” he says softly beside your ear, “because this might sting a little bit more than two fingers.” He swipes the head of his cock through your sticky folds and all you can do is moan pathetically at the feeling, lewd, wet noises echoing in the big library. 

You can’t see his length even with the way you contort your head to look over your shoulder, but you’re still able to see his chest and hips moving as he pushes his cock into your pussy. Though you have no idea what he looks like, the painful feeling of your cunt getting stretched out to his size tells you he’s really big. 

And he was right. This hurts way more than his fingers, the two feelings are not comparable at all. 

“Jay-,” you cry out, holding onto the shelves in front of you till there’s no more blood in your knuckles. 

He hears you, loving the sounds you’re making because of him and the way you say his name with eyes full of tears. When he bottoms out inside of you, his pelvis flushed against your ass, he lets out a low grunt and throws his head back, closing his eyes to savour the pleasure entirely. 

You involuntarily clench around him, making him tighten his grip on your hip. He then starts thrusting into you, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy at a slow but harsh pace. Each time he bottoms out, Jay makes sure the skin of his thighs slap against your ass, the sounds almost as loud as your little moans and whimpers. 

But the storm is so intense and noisy that he’s pretty sure nobody else in the library could hear you — if there was anyone else here apart from the two of you anyway. 

Your wetness allows him to fuck his cock into your pussy back and forth, welcoming him so perfectly without any restraint. It’s almost impossible for him to not hit your sweet spot, and he reaches so much deeper when he lifts up your thigh with the hand that was previously placed on your hip. 

You don’t know how long you can stay in this position, especially when Jay’s drilling his cock into you like nothing else matters. It’s like he needs it from you, and as the pleasure only builds up in you, you start thinking you need it desperately, too. 

You’re breathing heavily, and so is he, feeling his hot breath on your neck when he tilts his head down closer to yours. You can clearly hear his breathing now as well as his deep grunts that leave his mouth every time your walls close tightly around his girth, literally sucking him in. 

“Shit,” he curses out as he pushes lightly on your back, deepening the arch of it so your ass is flushed against his pelvis. “How could I have ever missed out on you… You’re so- fuck,” Jay chokes out, not finishing his sentence, but you have a guess on what he wanted to say. 

He then kisses your neck pretty messily, but it only raises the temperature of your body, your skin boiling hot under his soft lips. He leaves a wet trail behind, going up to your ear, down to your shoulder. 

Telling him to stop isn’t even possible anymore, it wouldn’t make any sense… would be absolutely stupid when you’re so close to your second orgasm. 

As he thrusts into you, his balls slap your pussy, and the sounds are just too vulgar, but it’s honestly arousing you so much. Jay lets go of your thigh to take a hold of your jaw, turning it around so he can look at your face. 

Your mouth is ajar to let out big puffs of air, and it’s the same for him, his breathing being irregular and heavy. He didn’t think he would ever need something that badly, which is making you his, surprisingly enough. 

Making you his in whatever way possible; whether it’s by fucking you or eating you — or both. Jay doesn’t care, he just wants it. 

It doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to pass through you, arms and legs shaking as the knot at the pit of your stomach snaps. Jay feels it very clearly, your walls hugging his cock terribly tightly, bringing him closer to his own orgasm as well.

“Holy fuck,” he hisses, his hip thrusts accelerating, literally burying his cock in your cunt until he slips out. He rapidly strokes himself and cums on your ass, strings of white cum falling on you. “Oh, god…”

He stays in this position for a couple of seconds, catching his breath. He then slightly backs away, making sure to keep your skirt crumpled up over your butt, looking at the mess he made of you. 

Suddenly, you both catch on the voices entering the library, making you rush to dress up and clean yourselves. 

—-

You’re in your bedroom, studying and writing down in your notebook while lying on your bed. It’s relatively quiet in your house, hearing the TV downstairs playing and the ceiling fan above your head running. 

The ringtone of your cell phone breaks the silence, buzzing on top of your bedsheets. It’s a number that you don’t recognize, but the first digitals show that it’s a number from your area, so you pick it up. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, pretty.”

“Uh, who is this?” You ask the person on the other side of the line because you have no idea who would call you like this. They must know you.

“Take a guess,” they say, and their tone is oddly flirty. 

You frown, starting to remember where you heard this voice for the last time… And in which situation exactly. 

“... Jay?” 

He laughs at that and you can imagine the cheeky smile he’s sporting right now. 

“You got it,” he replies, “see, I knew you’d remember me.” 

You immediately feel uneasy despite the fact you’re just talking through the phone, but things have happened since your encounter with Jay.

Things such as more dead girls, all brutally murdered by this supposed ‘animal’. 

You suspected nothing until you noticed how tired looking Jay was a day or two after what happened in the library. Normally, you wouldn’t have looked at him, but you literally couldn’t get him out of your head after how intimate the both of you had been. 

Every time he was in the same hallway as you, you’d give him a glance and nothing more as you were too shy to talk to him or even look at him for too long. 

But sometimes you dared to watch him a little longer when he didn’t know you were there. 

And you saw the dark circles, the bad attitude he had with his friends, and the disdain look he seemed to give to everybody. You also saw him get in his car with a girl. You were jealous for a second, but you felt totally different the next day when that same girl went missing and that Jay was doing fine again. 

At first, it was just silly thoughts, but it was too strong of a coincidence, you couldn’t think about anything else. 

Jay’s an incubus.

“Yeah…” You say back, shoulders tense as you sit up on your bed. “How did you get my number?” 

“Asked Jungwon for it,” he simply explains. “You did a project back in highschool together. Remember?”

You do remember. You were so stressed out about it. Paired with a popular jock? You believed the teacher was against you, but it turned out that Jungwon was way nicer than you thought.

“Luckily, you didn’t change numbers.”

Lucky for who?

“Right,” you huff out, looking through your window, a shiver passing through you at the thought of Jay hiding somewhere.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

“Uhm, just studying… Why?” 

“Wanna go out with me?” Jay proposes after a few seconds of silence. 

You look through your window again. It’s dark outside. This would be such a bad idea… 

“It’s 9 p.m. on a Thursday night,” you begin, sounding way too bitchy for his liking, “where would we go? And why would I even go out with you…”

“The park’s always open,” he adds.

“What-”

“Relax. Nothing bad gonna happen, alright?" his voice resonates through the phone, hearing a slight laugh after. "I miss you, that's all."

You bite down on your lip, shaking your head to get all of your stupid thoughts away. As much as you hate to admit it, you love hearing that from Jay. That’s all you wanted him to say since he left you in the library… tell you he needs you as much as you need him. 

But this isn’t the time for that — there won’t ever be another time anyway. 

You respond nothing and so he takes it as a yes. “Send me your address, I’ll come pick you up in 10 minutes. Put something pretty on,” he chuckles, hanging up. 

—-

The park isn’t an open space with benches and a fountain. It’s basically the woods where you go for hiking. There are paths you can follow that will all lead you to the same place at the end. 

You could have thought of something smarter, or less dangerous, but you didn’t have any time. Jay showed up at your entrance precisely 10 minutes after he hung up and you weren’t exactly ready to see him just yet. 

You had to get in his car anyway, the whole ride being quiet until you arrived at your destination. Your stomach churned up the moment you entered the woods, Jay behind you. 

Your heart is still beating super fast right now, whether it’s because you’re absolutely scared or because Jay is kissing you feverishly, it doesn’t matter. You can’t do this, and you don’t know how it might end for you if you let yourself be distracted by him. 

“Jay,” you manage to say between kisses. You push harder on his chest, making him stop from putting his tongue in your mouth. “We need to talk,” you say firmly. 

“About what?” he chuckles, diving back down to the crook of your neck where he plants wet kisses, his hand sneaking up under your dress while the other holds your hip. 

You squirm, fighting hard to not let yourself give in to his touch. 

“I saw… I saw Kazuha and you getting into your car the other day,” you confess and he backs away from your neck when he hears that, looking intently at your face. 

“And? You were jealous, is that it?” He questions, lifting one eyebrow. 

“No! I mean-,” you answer right after, thinking about what to say and how to say it. “She went missing the day after you saw her, and-”

Jay gets visibly annoyed, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth. He lets go of you, still looking at you, but not with lustful eyes anymore. 

“What? What are you trying to say, huh?” He huffs out. “That I killed her? Fucking crazy.”

Is he really guilty? He has to be. You know he is. 

“Back in the library,” you begin to say, “were you… did you intend to kill me?” You eventually say it all, breath caught in your throat as you watch Jay registering your words. 

He sighs, “why would it matter?” You frown at that, about to respond, but he steps closer to you, trapping you between him and the tree again. “Just let me take care of you, gonna make you feel so good, baby…” 

He slips his hands under your dress so rapidly that you don’t have any time to react, immediately overwhelmed by his groping and his lips all over you. 

But you get back to your senses, using all your force to push him away. You succeed to have a safe distance between the two of you.

“So you’re admitting it!? You wanted to- to do the same thing to me!”

“No,” he disagrees, his voice harsh, sounding quite annoyed. “I just wanted- Fuck!” he exclaims angrily, but it’s like he doesn’t know what to say. 

“You could have had everybody you wanted, Jay,” you state, looking him into the eyes, “why me?”

He looks back at you and you wonder how you couldn’t have seen it before… The evil. 

“Why not? You’re hot, kinda stuck-up, but I had to try it, you know,” he chuckles. “For a nerdy girl, you sure know how to take dick.”

This angers you to a point… 

“Fuck you!”

And without thinking twice, you reach down to pick up the pocket knife you hid in your boot before. 

You open it and you rush toward Jay, stabbing him in his lower stomach. You retrieve the knife a bit too hastily, resulting in you dropping it and falling down on your butt to the ground. 

Jay also falls down, holding onto his stomach, red blood dripping out of his cut onto his hands. He yells out many curses, sucking air through his teeth to appease the pain as much as he can. 

You watch him, startled and out of breath, eventually turning around and searching for your knife through the dirt and dead leaves. When you find it, you get back up and to Jay, but he isn’t there anymore.

He has completely disappeared. 

[gothicxreylover]

Can you do a Yandere hashira where they see their Kakushi darling being attacked by a demon or a demon about to eat them after seriously injuring or poisoning them. Perhaps S/o just finished cleaning up after their mission or some other slayer's mission when they were attacked. Perhaps the demon can be a lower moon and they decide to show off to their darlings to impress them or something when they saved them. Sorry it's so long🥹

Tw these scenarios contain- Violence and Gore,Obsession/Possessiveness,Power Imbalance,Emotional Manipulation,Non-Consensual,Undertones,Potential Coercion,Psychological Distress:

⊹ ☾ ♱ ཐི𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀིཋྀ ♱ ☽ ⊹ ⊹ ☾ ♱ ཐི𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀིཋྀ ♱ ☽ ⊹

Rengoku Kyojuro

Rengoku arrives just in time, his flames blazing brighter than ever as the demon looms over you. His usually warm and uplifting demeanor twists into a chilling intensity as he grins.

“How dare you touch what’s mine!” he booms, charging forward with unrelenting ferocity. Each swing of his sword slices through the demon with terrifying precision, his movements purposeful and grand as though he’s performing for an audience of one—you.

Once the demon is obliterated, he rushes to your side, his expression shifting to one of deep concern. He kneels beside you, brushing your hair away from your face. “Don’t worry, my flame. You’re safe now. I’ll always protect you, even if it costs me everything.”

As he carries you to safety, his heart swells with pride at having saved you. But there’s an undercurrent of possessiveness—you’re his, and no one, not even a demon, will take you away from him.

Shinazugawa Sanemi

Sanemi’s bloodlust spikes the second he sees the demon hovering over your injured form. His lips curl into a snarl, and his presence becomes suffocating. He doesn’t waste time with words—he attacks with sheer brutality, slashing and tearing through the demon with an almost sadistic glee.

Once the demon is reduced to a bloodied heap, he stalks over to you, his sharp eyes scanning your injuries. “Idiot,” he growls, though his voice cracks ever so slightly. “Why’d you let yourself get into this mess?”

He scoops you up without asking, his grip firm yet oddly gentle. “No one’s laying a damn finger on you again. If they do, I’ll rip them apart,” he promises, his tone dark and resolute.

Though he hides it behind his gruff demeanor, he’s secretly thrilled you needed him. In his mind, this proves that you’re meant to rely on him—and only him.

Tomioka Giyuu

Giyuu’s quiet fury is like the eye of a storm as he appears, the demon unaware of his presence until it’s too late. His blade flashes, the water-like movements flowing seamlessly as he dispatches the demon with deadly efficiency.

He doesn’t look back at the carnage as he kneels beside you, his usually stoic expression betraying a hint of panic. “You’re hurt,” he mutters, his voice soft but trembling with restrained emotion.

Without a word, he carefully tends to your wounds, his hands steady despite the storm raging in his chest. Giyuu doesn’t need to say it, but his actions scream, I can’t lose you.

He’ll stay by your side until he’s certain you’re safe, his mind already racing with ways to ensure you’re never placed in danger again—even if it means keeping you close to him forever.

Tengen Uzui

Tengen appears in a dazzling burst of speed, his blades twirling as he cuts down the demon with almost theatrical precision. He makes sure to deliver the final blow in the most “flashy” way possible, smirking as he declares, “No one harms my precious jewel and lives to tell the tale!”

Once the demon is dealt with, Tengen wastes no time in scooping you up, his usual flamboyance replaced with genuine concern. “Hey, hey, don’t go passing out on me. You’re way too important for that,” he says, his voice soft yet commanding.

As he carries you to safety, he can’t help but feel a swell of pride. You’re his darling, and he’s more than happy to remind you—and everyone else—that you belong to him.

Mitsuri Kanroji

Mitsuri arrives in a whirlwind of pink and green, her Love Breathing techniques weaving an elegant but deadly dance as she tears the demon apart. Her tears stream down her face as she fights, her heart breaking at the sight of you injured.

Once the demon is gone, she rushes to your side, cradling you in her arms. “Oh no, my love! Are you okay? I was so scared!” she cries, her voice trembling with emotion.

She kisses your forehead repeatedly, whispering reassurances as she holds you close. In her mind, she’s already vowing to never let you out of her sight again. You’re her everything, and she’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

Muichiro Tokito

Muichiro’s usually dreamy demeanor vanishes the instant he sees you in danger. His movements are swift and calculated, the demon barely having time to react before it’s sliced apart by his Mist Breathing techniques.

He stands over the demon’s remains, his expression unreadable as he turns to you. “You’re hurt,” he states bluntly, kneeling beside you.

As he tends to your injuries with surprising care, there’s an intensity in his gaze that borders on obsession. “I won’t let this happen again,” he says quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Muichiro may not show it outwardly, but the thought of losing you terrifies him. He’ll ensure you’re protected, even if it means keeping you close to him at all times.

Kochou Shinobu

Shinobu’s usually serene and gentle demeanor vanishes the moment she spots the demon threatening you. Her smile takes on a chilling edge as she steps into the fray, her Insect Breathing techniques slicing through the air with graceful lethality.

“How rude,” she says with a lilting voice, her tone deceptively light as she delivers the final blow with precision. “No one is allowed to hurt my dear Kakushi.”

She kneels beside you, her delicate hands quickly assessing your injuries. Her eyes gleam with an unsettling mix of concern and something darker as she whispers, “Oh, my darling, you’ve been hurt so terribly. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Even as she treats your wounds, her mind is already working. She can’t let this happen again. Perhaps she’ll concoct a “special remedy” to keep you safe, one that just so happens to keep you close to her forever. After all, she wouldn’t want to risk you wandering off without protection.

Tsuyuri Kanao

Kanao freezes for a split second upon seeing you injured, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her carefully composed exterior. But the sight of you in danger lights a fire within her. Without hesitation, she moves with incredible speed, her Flower Breathing techniques cutting the demon down with precision and grace.

Her usually quiet demeanor is replaced with a fierce determination as she stands over the demon’s remains, her chest heaving. She turns to you, her eyes wide with panic and worry.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly, her voice trembling as she kneels beside you. Her hands are gentle but urgent as she tries to stop your bleeding or neutralize any poison.

Tears well up in her eyes, and she grips your hand tightly. “I won’t let this happen again. I’ll protect you no matter what,” she whispers, her voice firm despite the shakiness in her tone.

After this, Kanao becomes even more attached to you, her need to protect you bordering on obsession. She’ll always keep an eye on you, even if it means silently following you everywhere. To her, you’re far too precious to ever let go.

Iguro Obanai

Obanai’s blood runs cold the moment he sees you injured and at the mercy of a demon. For a split second, his breathing stops as rage overtakes him. Kaburamaru tightens around his shoulders, sensing his master’s fury.

Without a word, Obanai leaps into action, his Serpent Breathing technique cutting through the demon with swift, precise movements. He doesn’t speak to the demon—there’s no point. It’s already dead in his eyes for daring to harm you.

After the demon is reduced to a lifeless heap, he strides over to you, his mismatched eyes blazing with worry and anger. He kneels beside you, his movements unusually gentle as he checks your injuries.

“You’re so careless,” he mutters, his voice low but trembling with suppressed emotion. His hands linger on your wounds longer than necessary, his gaze locked on your face. “Do you have any idea how much you mean to me? How much it kills me to see you like this?”

As he wraps you in his arms, his tone turns sharper. “I won’t let this happen again. You’ll stay with me from now on. Where I can protect you. No arguments.”

His mind churns with plans to keep you close, to ensure you’re never placed in harm’s way again. He may even go as far as limiting your Kakushi duties or convincing you to quit entirely—anything to keep you safe and within his reach.

Himejima Gyomei

The moment Gyomei hears the sounds of a struggle and senses the demonic presence near you, his usually calm and composed demeanor shatters. Tears already streak his face as he rushes toward the source, his prayer beads clutched tightly in one hand and his weapon in the other.

When he finds you—injured, bleeding, and barely able to move as the demon looms over you—an overwhelming fury washes over him. His usually gentle nature is replaced by an almost divine wrath. “To harm someone so precious to me… Your sins will not go unpunished,” he declares, his voice low and reverberating like thunder.

Gyomei’s Stone Breathing is devastatingly effective. The demon barely has time to react as he crushes it with monumental force, each blow delivered with righteous intensity. Once the demon is obliterated, he immediately drops his weapon and kneels beside you, his massive hands surprisingly tender as they assess your injuries.

“You’re safe now,” he says softly, his tears flowing freely as he cradles you with care. “I failed to protect you… I won’t let it happen again.”

Despite his guilt, there’s an undercurrent of possessiveness in his actions. From this moment on, Gyomei becomes even more vigilant, insisting that you remain close to him at all times. Whether it’s through prayer, his physical strength, or sheer force of will, he’s determined to shield you from any harm—forever.

⊹ ☾ ♱ ཐི𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀིཋྀ ♱ ☽ ⊹ ⊹ ☾ ♱ ཐི𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀིཋྀ ♱ ☽ ⊹

[weemssapphic]

Am I no good?

Brienne of Tarth x f!reader

“I loved him. I loved him and I-” She chokes on her own words, unable to verbalize what she did - but she doesn’t need to, you know already, and Brienne doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. You don’t either.

CW: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat - see A/N at end Cannibalism, slight gore, necrophilia, trauma, hallucinations, night terrors, hurt/comfort, smut, several mentions of Braime

Words: ~7.5k | ao3 link in title

Brienne gets night terrors. 

As a member of the Kingsguard your room is adjacent to the Lord Commander’s and one night, not long after her return from the North, you’d woken to a blood-curdling scream that had pierced even the thick walls of the Red Keep’s tower. The Lord Commander had been, for a few terror-inducing minutes, inconsolable; thrashing about, trying to get out of bed, and, being that you were both closest to her and the only other woman amongst the knights, your peers had bowed out and left you to ‘deal’ with her.

At first you’d tried to restrain her, resulting in an accidental black eye. You’d changed your tactic as a result, tried to be gentle with her, coo her back to sleep - which, fortunately, had worked. Then the next night, it had happened again, and again you’d stayed with her until she’d fallen back asleep. Soon after, she’d begun to sleepwalk, and so, to prevent her from getting hurt, you’d started sleeping on a pile of furs on the floor beside her bed.

Eventually, and as your relationship with Brienne had slowly changed, evolved into something, you’d started sleeping beside her in bed - anything to keep her from hurting herself, to help lull her back into a fitful sleep.

It had never been like this before, not in the time you’d known Brienne, anyway. She’d always been a light sleeper, sure, but a sound one. Even after the most brutal of battles, she’d never even woken with a start from a nightmare as you and so many of your fellow knights had. But something had changed when she’d gotten back. Something had changed since she’d lost Jaime.

She talks in her sleep now, too. That’s partially how you know what happened during all those months when she was in the North.

When it first started, you thought the sleep talking was just a part of whatever nonsensical dream (or, more likely, nightmare) she was having, conjured up, perhaps, by the imagination of a person who has seen too much and suffered too greatly. 

But then she’d woken with a start one night. It wasn’t a night terror - though she was clearly upset, she was fully lucid. This time, she didn’t scream. Didn’t thrash. Instead, she’d clung to you like a little girl, curling up against you in a way she never had before, seeking comfort. She confessed in hushed, shaky whispers between suppressed sobs the terrible things that had happened in the North. The unforgivable things that she’d done in the North. The real reason why half of her Kingsguard had disappeared. The real reason why Jaime hadn’t returned by her side.

~~~

You’ve known Brienne for years, becoming a member of her Kingsguard when she’d become Lord Commander. She’d wanted a woman under her command, and so she’d knighted you herself. The two of you had quickly become friendly with one another, sharing the unique bond of being women in a still male-dominated profession (and wasn’t that an understatement).

Though you found yourself slowly and quietly falling in love with her, your bond had never gone past friendship - it couldn’t, not with Jaime by Brienne’s side. Not when the tall, blonde knight looked upon her lover as if he held within him the key to the universe. Her first love. 

Still, you were, out of all the knights in her Kingsguard, out of all her friends, closest to Brienne, and it filled with you a subconscious sense of smugness. It made you feel special, that the strong, courageous, just, loyal, beautiful Brienne of Tarth would value your company, your opinions. That she would consider you, as she once told you, her equal, a true friend. That she held love for you, even if it wasn’t romantic love, even if it wasn’t the same kind of love you held for her. It was clear you meant something to her, and the memory of the love shared between the two of you is what you would cling to in the many months during her absence.

King Bran had had official business in the North. Some threat looming past Winterfell, beyond the Wall. Whispers of White Walkers returning - mostly fear-mongering, Brienne had figured. But King Bran had made for Winterfell to convene with the Kingdom of the North, and the Lord Commander and her Kingsguard had followed, to protect him firstly and then to head even farther north towards the Wall and beyond, to scout out the supposed threat.

Except for you. You’d been nursing a fresh injury at the time of departure, and it had been deemed too risky to allow you to join, lest the threat be real and your injury be your downfall. Brienne had tasked you with taking over some official duties during her absence - in a month or two they’d all be back, anyway. On the day that they’d left, she’d left you at the entrance of the Red Keep with a smile on her lips, that kind of crooked, cheeky one she had reserved solely for you. The one that would be seared onto the backs of your eyelids, conjured up every time you closed your eyes, for months to come.

~~~

She shouldn’t have followed that absolute dolt’s directions, Brienne thinks bitterly. She trusts her men, she truly does - she wouldn’t have appointed them to her Kingsguard if she didn’t. But today, for the first time, she wishes she could strangle one of them with her bare hands - the one who led them off the path, convinced he’d known exactly where they were going, until it had become clear that he had absolutely no idea.

They set up camp for the night and Jaime has to calm Brienne down in her tent as the others set about lighting a fire. The cold is brutal this far north - it cuts at their skin and claws its way down to their bones, and Brienne huddles close to Jaime to share in the warmth he always seems to radiate. 

Despite the cold, and despite how tired he is after trekking through the snow all day, Jaime cracks a joke, and despite how cold and tired she herself is, Brienne chuckles and rests her head on his shoulder. He reassures her that they’ll get a good night’s sleep and find their way tomorrow, and they’ll only really have lost a few hours, a few miles, at most.

Brienne trusts him.

A few hours and a few miles turn into a few days and a few more miles. It seems to Brienne, the more time passes, that the vast, icy wilderness of the North is actively conspiring against them - dead set on keeping them from both their goal and, in turn, from returning to Winterfell.

At first, it’s more of a nuisance than anything. They still have plenty of food and water. They camp out each night, huddle around the fire, weary from trekking for miles and seemingly getting no closer to anything. But optimism lingers - they’ll find their way soon, Brienne thinks, and Jaime affirms her, and her other men agree. They trust her. 

Once, after a particularly long day and to keep Brienne’s spirits up, Jaime makes love to her - or tries to, anyway. The biting chill ruins it a bit, he can’t focus long enough to keep it up, keeps going soft as the cold seeps into his bones and makes his teeth chatter. Brienne cannot help but to find it funny - she laughs, and Jaime shushes her, a little embarrassed, but at least he’s made her pale lips turn up into a rare smile, and at least she’s holding him close and wrapping him up in her strong, loving embrace underneath their furs, and at least they have each other.

~~~

A few weeks in, one of her men falls ill from the cold, already weakened from the lack of sustenance as their food supply has dwindled down to nothing. He develops a cough, complains of chest pains. He stops often, slows down the group. Wheezes audibly as he clambers to keep up with the others. He’s feverishly warm and he looks to be a hopeless case. In just a few days, he’s gone - he dies in his sleep, and Jaime is the one to find him beside the fire, unmoving.

What ensues after will haunt Brienne for the rest of her life.

She suggests that they hold a short funeral for the fallen knight, burn the body then continue on, in the hopes of finding their way back to Winterfell - their plans to scout out the threat past the Wall all but abandoned, so long as they make it out of the North’s unforgiving clutches alive. Everyone agrees, and they use the extra wood they have for the fire to build a small, makeshift funeral pyre. Brienne says a few words and Jaime lights the fire, sets the warrior’s body ablaze. 

After a somber moment of silence, Brienne orders her knights to pack up camp. One of them lingers near the pyre, staring at the charred body of his former peer, stepping closer even as the others turn their backs to him. He ignores his Lord Commander when she says it’s time to leave. He’s hungry, he says - yes, we all are, the Lord Commander replies, a bit impatiently.

They could use the strength, they need to eat something, he argues, or they’ll meet the same fate as the knight roasting over the fire. Brienne doesn’t understand - until she does. Then she’s horrified, by both the suggestion itself and the lack of horror that the rest of her knights display. She argues - Jaime tries to back her up - but they’re overruled.

As her men feast on the body of the fallen knight, she sits on a fallen tree trunk away from the group. She refuses to eat one of her Kingsguard for breakfast.

But things are never that easy. Her men have had a taste of the meat. They remember, finally, what it’s like to have full bellies, to have enough energy to carry themselves through the day, to keep their legs going for miles on end. And, with that, any trust that Brienne has in her knights, and they in her, slowly disintegrates.

The North is a strange place, and it has a tendency to drive even the most composed, civilized men mad. Hunger, also, has a tendency to drive men mad. And driven mad they are. With no knowledge of how much longer they’ll be stuck out in the wilderness, and thus no knowledge of when their next meal will be or where it will come from, with a taste for the flesh that may be their only chance at survival in the barren wasteland beyond the Wall, the knights begin to practically search for reasons to turn on one another.

So, inevitably, begins what haunts Brienne for the rest of her life - the Hunt.

It’s simple: Hunt or be Hunted. Kill or be Killed. Eat or be Eaten. 

It’s almost a blur to Brienne.

Except for Jaime. When it comes to Jaime, she remembers every detail vividly. Too vividly.

Jaime twists his ankle one day, starts to limp a bit as he drags himself through the snow. Brienne pulls him roughly aside, her brow furrowed with fury and her grip tight.

“You cannot let them see that you’re hurt. You have to walk normally, goddamnit,” she spits out. The words are filled with vitriol - because she’s afraid. Terrified. If any of the other knights sense his weakness, Jaime will be next. And, for all that he’s one of the strongest, most strategic warriors Brienne has ever known, even Jaime cannot outrun a group of hunger-crazed men on a twisted ankle.

He insists that he’ll try, but Brienne can see the doubt in his eyes - she can feel it when he kisses her and soothes his hands down her arms; the hesitation, the trepidation. Her heart thumps so loudly she’s sure he can hear it, too.

Try as he might, even Jaime Lannister is unable to escape his fate. The knights are restless - it’s been two weeks again (or maybe three?) since their last proper meal, and they’re hungry. Brienne is hungry, too, but when Jaime suggests he sacrifice himself so that she can eat, knowing that he’s growing too weak to go on as the pain in his ankle spreads up his leg, she gets angry. Brienne knows he’s getting weaker, but such a sacrifice is unthinkable. 

“Get. Up!” Brienne shouts vehemently, the blood flowing through her veins turning to ice when, as the group treks through the snow one afternoon, Jaime feels a sharp pain in his leg and falls to the ground. She doesn’t like the resignation in his gaze, she doesn’t like how the others advance on him like he’s prey, she doesn’t like how she’s powerless to stop them because she knows, even if she fights for Jaime - defends his life - that he’s a lost cause one way or the other. She doesn’t like the sound Jaime’s neck makes as it snaps at the hands of one of her men.

She insists on being the one to handle his body and, because she’s still their Lord Commander but mostly because the others know they’ll have full bellies in a few hours, they let her. They give her privacy as they wait, huddling around the fire they’ve built.

Jaime’s eyelashes are frosty, and Brienne places her hand over his eyes, closes them. His lips are blue - they’re cold against her own and the absence of his warm breath makes her heart clench. She pushes her tongue into his mouth, exploring, memorizing. One last taste. Tears burn her cheeks - it’s not the same when he doesn’t kiss back. She flicks her tongue against his - still, unmoving - and moans, and it turns into a sob. 

She rests her forehead against Jaime’s, her breath tickling his face, her tears dripping onto his cheeks, her hands starting to undo his furs, his cloak, his armor, his shirt - lovingly, almost as if she were undressing him, as she often used to do, after a long day of work. She places her hands on his bare chest. It’s cold. His lungs don’t expand and his heart doesn’t beat. It feels both achingly familiar and completely alien to Brienne. She tosses his clothing to the ground, the pieces of his armor clattering against each other and disrupting the quiet peace of the forest. Her hands move to his trousers - as she undoes them, her lips trail down his jaw, his beard scratching at her skin in a familiar sort of way. She reaches his pulse point and sucks - she pretends she can feel a pulse, she smiles in spite of herself and she sucks and sucks and sucks at his skin, before kissing her way down the column of his throat, his chest, feeling it rise and fall with his shallow breaths.

Jaime’s trousers and undergarments join the rest of his clothing in the snow, and Brienne’s hands curl around his upper thighs as her lips find the crease between his hip and his thigh. She breathes him in and lets out a shuddering moan, and she can feel his hands scratch at her scalp, pull at her golden locks. She squirms - it makes her wet. She can feel his hips rise beneath her lips and her fingernails scratch at his outer thighs as she runs her tongue along the seam of his crotch.

Her stomach rumbles audibly and she sobers, just enough to pull back from the cold, unmoving corpse of her dead lover, hunger and guilt promptly replacing her arousal.

She straightens, reaches for the knife at her side, places the blade against Jaime’s chest. She sniffles and uses her free hand to wipe the remaining tears and a bit of snot off her face. Then she makes a clean cut down the length of Jaime’s torso.

There’s a ritualistic quality to her movements. She prepares his corpse with precision, her mind going blank, blissfully blank, as she saws off his extremities, removes his organs. It’s serene, ceremonial, as if she’s in a trance.

Later that evening, as Brienne lifts a chunk of warm, tender meat to her lips, chews it slowly, savors it, she feels a warm glow in her chest. As if Jaime is now with her, always - a strange, twisted sense of intimacy unfurling within her, a wave of peace washing over her.

~~~

When you first see Brienne again, you run to hug her, but something stops you in your tracks. She stands still, watching you stoically, trembling. You reach out to touch her but she shrinks away from your hand. You’re so focused on her that it takes you a moment to notice that she’s only come back with two of her men, and that Jaime isn’t one of them. 

All you know is that the expedition in the North was unsuccessful - with no further details as to what happened, or why your Lord Commander and her men were gone for so long. You hope that she’ll let you comfort her as time passes, that she’ll confide in you, but she doesn’t. King Bran works out a plan for Brienne to slowly take over her duties again, the ones you’ve been carrying out - she insists upon it, and he trusts her. The next few weeks are filled with strained council meetings, and it’s the only time Brienne allows you to interact with her, only ever about ‘official’ topics, skillfully side-stepping anything remotely resembling something personal, anything to do with her time in the North, anything to do with Jaime.

Until the night terrors begin.

~~~

You pass Brienne on your way to breakfast the morning after her first night terror. The corridor is narrow and, with each of you clad in armor, you have to turn to the side a bit as you pass each other in order to not bump shoulders. Brienne’s gaze sweeps your face, then pauses. It gets stuck on the fresh bruise around your eye, and her brows knit together in confusion.��

“How did this happen?” she asks softly, raising her hand to your face but stopping just shy of touching you, as if she can’t bear to. Her fingers twitch and she drops her arm back down to her side.

You frown. “You don’t remember?”

She’s silent for a moment - you can almost hear the cogs turning in her head. She shakes her head, a strand of hair falling onto her forehead. It takes all of your restraint not to reach out and brush it back with your fingertips.

You almost want to make up a lie as to what happened - you don’t want to put her through any more misery than she’s already experiencing. But you know it’ll all come out sooner or later, so you tell her the truth.

As you explain what had happened, the lines on Brienne’s face deepen, her skin grows pale, her lips part to let out a shaky breath. Then she presses her lips into a hard line, offers you a slight nod of her head. There is an apology in her eyes, unspoken - she brushes past you and disappears around the corner without another word.

She doesn’t join you and the rest of the Kingsguard (what few men had been left, and a couple of newly appointed men) for breakfast, nor does she show up at lunchtime, and her seat remains empty at suppertime. You contemplate going to her chambers and seeing if she’ll talk to you. Remembering how unwilling she was to say even a word to you this morning, you decide against it - though you’re woken once again by a piercing scream at a quarter to four in the morning.

Again you sit with her, try not to touch her, to just let her screaming and thrashing run its course as you coo at her as you would a child. Again it works, but this time you linger a bit longer by her bedside once she’s fallen back asleep, just watching her.

Guilt muddles the sympathy and longing that gnaw a deep pit into your stomach. Brienne looks almost angelic, curled up on her side in the soft glow of moonlight filtering in through the window. It renders the eyelashes on one half of her face translucent, the other side cast in deep shadow. Her chest rises and falls with slow, even breaths, her hair falls in sweaty strands across her forehead, her fingers twitch against the furs on her bed - it makes you long to curl up against her back, wrap your arms around her waist, bury your nose in her hair, feel her lungs take in air and her heart pump blood and all the things that make her alive and real. Watching Brienne sleep, a dam inside you breaks - all of the feelings you’d suppressed for her sake, for Jaime’s sake, come bubbling to the surface.

~~~

Against your will, you’ve fallen into a routine with Brienne.

Neither of you talk about it. You’ve never been more intimate with her, and yet you’ve never felt so separate from her. The worst part is that you can tell she feels the same, but whatever happened to her is preventing her from opening up to you. So you give her the space she needs during the day, and try to reign in your emotions during the night.

Your little routine changes after about a week and a half when, lying wide awake and staring at the ceiling, you hear the creak of a door. Padding to your own door and peering out, you see Brienne exiting her room.

“Brienne?” you call out.

She ignores you, closing her door behind her, and you creep into the hall, the stone floor cold as ice beneath your bare feet. 

“Brienne, where are you going?”

“We need food, or we’re going to die out here,” she hisses urgently. You furrow your brow. What the hell is she on about? 

“Brienne, it’s the middle of the night. Are you okay?”

“Make yourself useful and get wood for the fire.”

It takes a moment but then it hits you - she’s not awake. She thinks she’s still out there, in the North. You approach her cautiously, well aware that one wrong move could get you punched in the eye again. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll go,” you say softly, stepping in her way to prevent her from heading towards the stairs. You gently point Brienne back towards her chambers, trying to coax her into going back to bed with promises of finding food and getting her warm. Eventually you succeed and she’s crawled beneath her furs once more.

Sitting gingerly at the edge of her bed, every muscle in your body stiff as a board and every hair standing on end, you watch her intently, waiting until her eyes have fallen shut and her breathing has evened out. Even then, the thought of leaving her alone like this nearly kills you - you’re not sure you’re in your right mind but, spotting a woven blanket on the chair in front of Brienne’s wardrobe, you take it to her bedside and wrap it around yourself as you settle on the ground. 

Hugging your knees to your chest, you try to generate enough warmth to be able to fall asleep. You’re only partially successful and sleep finds you an aching, shivering mess sometime just before dawn - only once your mind, running rampant with worries, has finally tired itself out enough to allow for an hour or two of rest.

~~~

Dawn breaks, the first rays of early morning sun licking at the windowsill, spilling onto the dusty floor of Brienne’s chambers and illuminating your sleeping form, and Brienne stirs in her sleep.

She stretches her arms over her head, letting out a soft groan at the ache that spreads through every muscle in her body. Mornings have been hard for her since she’s gotten back - she often feels as though gravity is conspiring against her, chaining her to the bed with a heaviness that takes over every limb, every muscle, every organ in her body.

As she turns onto her side, fighting the pull to just remain in bed all day and try to sleep away the pain, her gaze lands on a lumpy blanket beside the bed - a lumpy blanket that’s breathing, with a head of unruly curls poking out. 

Brienne’s breath stutters in her chest and she props herself up on her elbow to lean over the edge of the bed. Relief floods her body as she realizes it’s just you - though that same thought, a mere moment later, causes her pulse to race.

Before she’s had a chance to wonder what you’re doing on the floor beside her bed, your eyelids begin to flutter and you shift beneath the blanket. Your eyes open and meet Brienne’s, and for one fleeting moment, it feels like the most normal thing in the world as your lips spread into an automatic smile and Brienne’s heart skips a beat.

Your smile quickly fades, however, when you wake up enough to see the perplexed frown etched onto Brienne’s face, and you quickly scramble to your feet, stuttering out an apology.

“Why are you sleeping on the floor?” Brienne says, pulling her own furs up to her chin, as if doing so will hide the vulnerability that’s crashing over her in waves.

Your brow furrows. Brienne’s stomach sinks - she hates feeling as though she’s being kept in the dark. “What?” she huffs out impatiently, anxiety lapping at her ribcage from the inside. 

“You, um…” You hesitate, your voice still gravelly from sleep. You clear your throat. “I found you in the corridor last night, sleepwalking… I didn’t want you to get hurt so I stayed.”

It’s clear from the way you can hardly meet Brienne’s eyes, instead shifting your gaze to your feet as you subtly shuffle them, that you’re nervous. About what? Brienne wonders. Being reprimanded? She uses your lowered gaze to her advantage, her own gaze raking over your form from head to toe and back again, drinking you in. She feels a pang of regret. The two of you used to be close. She used to confide in you, used to trust you. But after everything that happened, who can she trust? Certainly not herself.

Still, she feels as though she owes you something. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles. You look up and her heart clenches as a tentative smile spreads across your face. She offers you one in return - it feels a bit foreign, to smile again after so long. As if she’s forgotten how. 

You reach down, folding the blanket and placing it at the foot of Brienne’s bed. “I’ll see you at training?” You look as if you’re about to say more - Brienne wishes you would say more - but you don’t.

Brienne swallows thickly, nods. “Yeah. See you.”

It’s not until you leave the room that she feels her fists unclench against her furs.

~~~

Brienne sleepwalks again the following night, and again you guide her back to bed and make a nest for yourself on the floor beside her. This time, you manage to sneak back into your chambers just before dawn, though you leave the blanket on the floor, so that she knows you were there, so that you don’t feel like you’re sneaking around.

The night after, Brienne wakes as you try to sneak back to your own bed (your back is stiff as a board). Her voice calls after you in the darkness as you’re halfway to the door, giving you a start.

“Just get in the bed, for God's sake…”

You can hear the sleepy exasperation in her voice and you quickly insist that you should go back to your own bed, that it would be improper - the moonlight casts an eerie glow on Brienne’s eyes when she rolls them. She scoots towards one edge of the bed and awkwardly pats the space next to her.

Neither of you sleep a wink for the rest of that night. You’re too distracted by the heat of Brienne’s body, too afraid that, if you fall asleep, you might wake up spooning her. She’s too focused on your breathing, acutely aware that you’re lying awake beside her, wishing she could take comfort in your presence but too afraid to do so. Your combined warmth beneath the furs is like a furnace, but you don’t dare move, for fear of spooking Brienne and being sent away. 

As dawn breaks, you climb out of one side of the bed and Brienne swings her legs over the opposite side. You say “see you” and Brienne grunts in response, and the whole experience is so awkward and tense that you almost don’t go to her chambers the following night. Habit, however, guides your feet right to her door, and she opens it as she hears your footsteps approaching, as if she were waiting for you. This alone, the lack of rejection, makes you braver - that night, you dare to lie just a little bit closer, your arm touching hers.

Every evening you get a bit more daring, and every morning is a little less awkward than the last. Brienne’s walls are far from torn down, but every so often she shows a sliver of genuine warmth that makes your heart skip at least three beats: a shadow of a smile flitting across her face when you show up at her door in the evening; a lingering glance after the two of you have said goodnight, filled not with annoyance or trepidation but with curiosity, perhaps even a hint of gratitude; a gentle brush of soft fingertips against your arm as she adjusts the furs so that you’re both covered.

The night that she wakes with a start and tells you everything would be seared into your mind for the rest of your life as the turning point in your relationship with Brienne. It isn’t about the things she confesses to you - though horrified at the anguish that plagues Brienne, you can’t find it in you to judge or condemn her. Not when she’d woken you in tears, her hand tentatively curling around the sleeve of your night shirt, her lower lip trembling as she’d whispered that she had to tell you what had happened, and then, later, pleaded with you to stay. Nothing she told you, nothing she would tell you, could make you leave. Quite the opposite, in fact - the worse her confessions seem to get, the closer your bodies get, until she’s curled into you with her face against your chest and your arms wound tightly around her, your lips pressed to the crown of her head - anything to provide some semblance of the comfort that she’s sorely been missing.

Once the dam has broken, once Brienne has laid bare all of her sins - and is met not with condemnation but with unwavering support - she starts to let you in, little by little. Little by little, she starts to trust you again and, little by little, she lets you care for her.

~~~

Brienne is standing in front of the fireplace when you enter her chambers. You can’t see her face but you don’t need to - you know that her eyes are fixated on the flames, flecks of warm orange licking at bright sapphire irises. Lost in thought, in some place deep within her where you cannot join.

You close the door with a bit of force, so that Brienne hears it, knows you’re there. You approach her from behind with audible footsteps, then wrap your arms around her waist. You turn your head to rest your cheek between her shoulder blades. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. She smells like soap and burning wood and something else, something ineffable, something distinctly Brienne. 

She stays where she is but folds her arms over your own, leans back ever so slightly. You don’t know how long the two of you stand there, but eventually Brienne starts to turn and you loosen your grip to allow her to face you. She looks down at you, her eyes dancing between your own. You think she might kiss you, like she sometimes does nowadays. You’re certain that there’s a hopeful glint in your eyes as your gaze flicks briefly to her lips, then back up to her eyes, though you try not to show it, try to let Brienne set the pace.

Instead of kissing you, she takes a step back, and you let your arms fall to your sides, feeling a bit cold after the sudden loss of her body heat. Brienne’s eyes never leave your own as she starts to untie her shirt at the front with long and nimble fingers. In your peripheral vision, you see her fingers work their way down her shirt, which then slides off her shoulders and falls to the floor. You cannot break eye contact, however - there’s something in her gaze that you’ve never seen before, not directed at yourself anyway, and it has you pinned in place, frozen in space and time.

Brienne’s tongue darts out to moisten her lips and she steps closer again, and the movement breaks you from whatever spell you’re under. Your gaze drops to her bare breasts, the small mounds of flesh pale and supple, nipples soft and pink, not quite fully hard yet. A wave of arousal washes over you as you allow your eyes to trace her body - every soft, womanly curve, every hard, toned muscle. Brienne, the woman. Brienne, the warrior. You feel her eyes on your face - you know she’s watching you drink her in, and it makes your breath quicken.

Reaching up to your own shirt, you start to untie it - until Brienne’s fingers brush against your own, gently pushing them aside and taking over for you. She takes her time, and her fingertips caress your skin, and you shiver as your shirt joins hers on the floor.

She steps closer still, until there’s no more room between the two of you. Her breasts press against your own and her skin warms yours, and then her hand slides into your hair, cupping your neck just beneath your ear and pulling you towards her until her lips meet your own. They’re impossibly soft and a little wet, and you’ve kissed Brienne before but it feels different this time, and it makes you moan - not a soft, sweet moan of pleasure but a deep, guttural moan of desire, and then Brienne pushes her tongue into your mouth and her free hand flattens against the small of your back, keeping you flush against her as she walks you backwards in the direction of her bed.

“I want you,” you whisper against her lips as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, and Brienne pushes against you, until you’re on your back and she’s on top of you. She resumes the kiss, her breath coming out in little pants against your lips as she straddles your waist and you scoot back into a more comfortable position. 

Large, callused hands slide down your torso, leaving a blazing fire in their wake. They reach the waistband of your trousers and you raise your hips, silently inviting Brienne to pull them down - she does, along with your underwear, and discards both.

Her lips trail along your jaw and you tilt your head back and to the side, giving her more access to nuzzle and kiss and suck and nip. The little noises that escape her lips and vibrate against your skin are heavenly, stoking the fire in your belly and ringing in your ears like the most beautiful melody you’ve ever heard.

Her teeth, hard and dull-edged, sink into the junction between your shoulder and your neck - a stark contrast to the feeling of her tongue, warm and velvety, running up the side of your neck just a moment later - pausing at your pulse point, feeling the pounding of your heart, the rushing of warm blood through your body. Your pulse quickens even more as she lingers there, and then you feel a wetness. 

You feel no pain but, still, you wonder if it’s blood, if she’s somehow broken skin.

Then you realize that the droplets dripping onto your neck are Brienne’s tears. 

You pull back, placing your hands on her shoulders. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are dark and stormy as she wrestles with something that you aren’t privy to. Her shoulders start to shake beneath your palms, her entire body trembling as she begins to sob in earnest, sitting up and dropping her head into her hands, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes as she lets out a low, shaky wail. 

“Brienne?” you whisper cautiously, sliding your hands from her shoulders up to her neck, prying her hands off of her face and cupping her cheeks, urging her to look at you. Your thumbs soothe across her cheekbones, wiping away each tear as it falls - her eyes dance between your own, uncertainty and pain reflected back at you in equal measure. But there’s something else there, a deep longing, a hunger, and you aren’t sure what for and you aren’t sure if you want to know. 

“I love you,” you say, your voice quiet yet firm. You say it partially because you don’t know what else to say, but also because you know it’s true. You do love her, more than you’ve ever loved anyone else, more than you ever thought you could love another person, more than life itself, perhaps. 

“Don’t say that,” Brienne chokes out, her brow scrunching as she sniffles and tries to suppress another sob, making her chest heave. 

“I love you.”

“P-please…”

“You’re not a bad person, Brienne, in spite of what you may think.”

“I am,” she spits back, her tone harsh in contrast to the softness in her eyes as she wants desperately to believe that you could be telling the truth. That you could love her, and think she’s a good person, worthy of being cared for. “I loved him. I loved him and I-” She chokes on her own words, unable to verbalize what she did - but she doesn’t need to, you know already, and Brienne doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. You don’t either. 

Brienne sobs. Her forehead wrinkles and her mouth turns down at the corners and she sobs. She buries her head in your chest, squeezes her eyes shut. Her tears wet your bare skin, her hand curls around your waist hard enough to bruise, gripping as if she’s holding on for dear life. As if you’ll evaporate if she lets go. 

You coo at her. Run a hand through wavy blonde locks. Let your fingertips trace her spine. You tell her how good she is, that she’s safe, that you care for her. You tell her that you love her, over and over again, as many times as it takes to make her believe it. You tell her that Jaime loved her, too. That he would have understood, and forgiven her. That he would want her to be happy. She sobs harder, shakes her head, and you cup her cheek and stroke your thumb across her cheekbone. He would want the world for her, you tell her, and you believe it. You believe it because it’s what you want, and if Jaime loved her half as much as you do, then, surely, he would want that, too. 

Finally, her tears subside. She hiccups, and it makes you smile in spite of it all. You kiss the tears off her cheeks, lick gently at her salty skin. Then you capture her lips in a sweet, wet kiss. She kisses you back. You keep it slow, gentle - you part your lips, an invitation for Brienne to set the pace. She licks into your mouth, entangling her tongue with your own, whimpering softly. 

“You t-taste so good,” she mumbles, and then she freezes. The double entendre doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you ignore it - you moan and deepen the kiss, because it feels good, and because Brienne tastes good, too.

Her fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, keeping you close, and your hands slide down her back. They slip beneath her trousers and cup her ass, and she rolls her hips against you with a breathy sigh. 

You push her trousers down, then her undergarments, and she helps you remove them completely. You push her onto her back, hovering over her - you give her a sweet kiss, then trail your lips slowly and reverently down her body. Your hands caress her sides, curling around her waist as your thumbs trace over her ribs and your tongue runs down the center of her abdomen.

Brienne’s hips push upwards as her head tilts back, and you look up through your lashes to see the underside of her jaw clenched; her breasts rising and falling; her nipples hard, rosy peaks that jut out into the air. You moan as you settle between her legs and kiss the crease of her hip, the scent of her arousal strong and heavy, making you feel dizzy.

You trace a path up her slit, using the tip of your tongue to part her sticky folds. Her arousal gathers on your tongue, exploding on your tastebuds like sweet ambrosia - you savor it, swallow it down with a hum. You get greedy as you retrace the path of your tongue, eager for more, humming gutturally, and then you feel Brienne’s fingers thread into your hair, her legs parting even further as she pushes you towards her clit.

Latching onto the throbbing bud, you suck feverishly, relishing in the wanton moan that erupts from deep within Brienne’s chest. Her fingers tighten in your hair, knuckles going white as her back arches off the bed and her abdomen ripples. You can feel the heels of her feet press into your back as her legs bend at the knees, her entire body responding to your hungry ministrations.

Brienne quivers. Releases the tension in her body like an arrow gone into flight. Her arousal coats your chin, sticks to the furs beneath her ass. She tugs at your hair, insistently, even as you lap at her folds, cleaning her up. You relent and allow her to pull you up, allow her lips to meet yours, and she moans at the taste of herself on your tongue and licks her own arousal off your face, desperately, as if she’s trying to devour you.

Her hand remains threaded in your hair as her other hand slides down your abdomen. Short, labored breaths leave her lips and hit yours in little puffs as long fingers feel how wet you are, smear your juices across your clit, dip into your center, stroke your walls.

Her eyes are open and she maintains eye contact with you as she fingers you. Her gaze is soft and loving beneath the lust, drinking in your every reaction and holding your heart, soul, body captive. She can tell you’re getting close and she pulls her fingers from your cunt, pushing you onto your back and sinking between your legs to finish you off with her mouth. Her lips latch onto your clit and she sucks hungrily, her eyes still on yours, her pale eyelashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks as she brings you over the edge.

When you cum, she kisses your inner thigh, mumbles “I love you” as if it were a confession. Then she says it again. And again. Repeats it as if it were a mantra. It rings in your ears, as if all you’ll hear for the rest of your life is the echo of Brienne of Tarth telling you she loves you. You.

~~~

The embers of the fire are slowly dying. Brienne is on her back and you’re curled up against her side, an arm slung around her waist. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness and are tracing her side profile, your heart swelling at the sight. It feels different after what you’ve just done. You feel light - euphoric.

“Do you like it when we lay like this?” you ask her softly, suddenly. Your voice is gravelly with a pleasant exhaustion and your eyelids are starting to feel a bit heavy, but you feel you cannot rest if you don’t ask.

Brienne pauses for a moment, as if she’s mulling over your question in her head. Her lips curl into a small smile - the special one, the one reserved for you, the one you feared you might never see again. She turns her head and meets your gaze in the semi-darkness. “Yes,” she says decisively. 

Maybe it’s the exhaustion, but Brienne sleeps through the night.

---

A/N: I know this is truly a very ~niche~ fic, but if you made it to the end, thank you! This fic popped into my head late last year when I was obsessed with Yellowjackets and kind of imagined a Yellowjackets-type scenario with Brienne - the smut was actually the first thing I wrote, and then I wrote the rest around that. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

[sweetiecutie]

🖤Fuck or die🖤

Paring: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, dead dove do not eat, non-con so rape, cuckolding, unwilling cheating, oral, facefuck, dick piercing bc I know y’all like it, unprotected sex, blood, murder, gore in the end. This is only fiction, don’t take any of this too seriously! If you feel triggered by any of these tags - just scroll past!

Word count: 4k, holy fucking shit

A/n: not me writing this in one day, jesus fucking christ😮‍💨 It’s first time I wrote something so violent, but I think I did pretty good! Originally planned to post it on halloween night but I’m too eager to share!! Also, I tried my best to fix all mistakes by proofreading it 4 times, I really did, but I’m pretty sure that I left out some still

It’s been very uneasy in a small town where you lived - series of blatant murders shook up all inhabitants with their brutality. Cruelly butchered corpses gave a hint of culprit’s strength, so cops guessed it was a man. And the most terrifying thing about this whole situation was that this maniac was still on loose - he never left any evidences, not a damn thing - nothing that could give a clue of who he was. The only trace he’s ever left wasn’t an accident or his mistake, but a well-planned thing - after appearing nameless in numerous news reports and articles he finally decided to introduce himself, writing KÖNIG with his victim’s blood on white flooring, said victim’s two bloody teeth serving as umlaut.

And his motives behind picking out victims were just as unclear - there was nothing in common between all these people: he didn’t have any preferences in victim’s sex or age, their profession nor appearance - as long as they lived in one family house, to avoid anyone hearing their screams, you figured. It seemed that he simply loved killing, who that was - didn’t matter.

You can’t say how exactly it all happened. It was another evening that you were spending at your boyfriend’s place - Paul’s parents were out of town for a few days for anniversary of their wedding, leaving a huge house for their only son. You felt uneasy - there weren’t any new murders in over a month, people were scared that maniac will go “haunting” very soon, which meant that no one was safe.

Paul only cooed at you soothingly when you shared your worries with him, promising to “protect you from all weirdos out there”, placing a comforting kiss on your forehead. So to distract yourselves you decided to throw a movie night - stacking up with snacks and beer, Netflix window opened on a large tv-screen, ready to serve its purpose as you made last preparations.

Cuddled up on the comfy couch, your boyfriend’s comforting warmth slowly seeped into your tense muscles, you watched some corny comedy, groaning in tandem at poorly-made jokes. When suddenly a sound of shattered glass jolted you both up, staring tensely at each other.

- I’ll go check it, - Paul said, getting up and heading to the living room from where the noise came. Everything was quiet for a few long minutes, your fingers fiddled with loose string on the corner of fluffy blanket as you heard some crashing and your boyfriend’s angry shouting:

- Y/n, get out of here!

Then everything was as if in a blur; tall figure clad in all black stepped into the living room, white scream mask contrasting starkly, huge knife covered in thin layer of blood was shining in blue tv-light. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you stared at the man in front of you - sticky feeling of fear seemed to fill every muscle in your body with heavy lead, making it impossibly hard to move even an inch. And then something in your head snapped, you threw yourself off the couch and towards the door opposite from killer, but he was way quicker - huge hands gripped you by your shoulders, rising you off your feet easily and dragging you back towards living room, your struggling and screaming did nothing to help.

You were now kneeling in front of this psycho, hands tied up tightly with coarse rope that dug painfully into your soft skin, surely leaving deep indents and dark bruises. Your boyfriend was laying on his side a few meters afar - bound by his wrists and ankles with same rope, crimson blood oozed out of deep stabbing wound in his stomach, nose obviously broken and bleeding - all these a result of his grapple with intruder, which obviously didn’t end in Paul’s favour.

- Please, - you weeped, tears and snot covered all of your face, whole body trembled with fear and adrenaline. - Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me, - you managed to choke out, silent cries tore through your chest, their intensity made it hard for you to breathe - you were hysterical.

- Oh, I know you will, sweetheart, - mechanical voice said in mock sympathy. One huge glowed hand came up to cup your chin, causing you to jolt violently upon feeling the contact; murderer tilted your head upwards, your insides churning upon laying your eyes on white plastic of his mask.

His thumb rubbed soft circles on your wet cheek - it was almost ridiculous how gently he touched you. This made you sob even more, but you didn’t dare to turn away, too scared to anger him.

- That would be a shame to kill such a pretty little thing, after all, - maniac said, glove-clad pad of his thumb swiped over your trembling bottom lip, soft cotton absorbing the mixture of your tears and saliva glazing it. - I may have an idea. Wanna hear it?

Silence set in for a few long gut-wrenching seconds which was interrupted only by your quiet sobbing and sounds of your boyfriend struggling against tight ropes. Quiet squeal tore through your chest as huge hand squeezed your cheeks harshly, yanking your face upward, forcing you to look up at König. Your bleary from tears eyes fixed upon two black holes in his mask, where man’s eyes supposedly were.

- I said “wanna hear it”? - slasher gritted out, his tone harsh as he put heavy emphasis on every syllable he uttered, making you shrink even further into yourself. You nodded your head hastily, not wanting to try out your luck any more.

- Y-yes, - you stammered, your voice giving out making your response sound more like a kitten’s squealing rather than human speech. König stared at you for a few long silent seconds, your knees beginning to tremble from both fear and painful exposure to hard flooring, which soon irradiated onto the whole of your body.

- I’ve been watching you guys, you know? For a few weeks now, - he said nonchalantly, his grip on your face loosened, long fingers tracing intricate shapes on your cheeks and temples, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ears, getting it out of your eyes. A wave of hysterical cries threatened to tear through your throat upon hearing his words, but you tried to suppress them as much as you physically could, staying still before him.

- Yes, - his voice sounded delicate - as if one of those passionate lovers who proclaimed their tender feelings. - Seen you guys do stuff… kiss, cuddle, fuck. A pathetic view, to be honest, - as he said so, his fingers came to tangle in your messy hair, massaging your scalp with soft movements. You felt sick. This man with a dagger bigger than your forearm clasped tightly in one hand, was caressing you so tenderly with another one - his unpredictable behaviour was making your guts churn.

He turned toward your boyfriend who was still thrashing harshly, struggling with all his might against secure confines of tight rope. Your gaze shifted towards your lover as well - the sight made your heart ache - his blood - some already caked and some fresh and shiny - covered the whole bottom of Paul’s face, a makeshift gag out of piece of some fabric was tied skilfully around his head - by the looks of it not to be untied by itself. His eyes met murderer’s, you could make out his muffled promises of killing the bastard, threats to not touch you and to get the fuck out of here. Murderer didn’t look impressed at all, staring silently at your man lying at his feet.

- Look at this pathetic scumbag - I tied your hands loosely, hoped for a bit of a fight, - harsh noise came from the speaker behind the mask, which you figured to be a sigh. König then turned back towards you, his head tilting to the side slightly, you could practically feel his intense gaze prickling on your skin. - Why are you even wasting your time on this piece of shit? He can’t even fuck you right, and you expected this piece of shit to actually protect you from danger? Provide for you?

Hot tears rushed down your cheeks at his words, as you stayed silent, not knowing what to say. König sighed again, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the tension in sore muscles, his neck popping loudly, making you jolt at the sound.

- Now, my plan is - how about I show you what a real man is like? Set the bar high for you, hm? - he said, a cool glimmer of blood-stained blade caught your eye as König twirled his knife skilfully in between thick fingers barely twenty centimetres away from your face. He noticed your attention shifting from him to his little tool, softly nudging your chin up to look back at him. - Oh, don’t worry darling. If you’re being a good girl that thing won’t touch you, deal?

You nodded your head frantically, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. - Anything, - you choked out, voice hoarse and barely audible but it was enough for him to hear.

- I like the eagerness, - murderer chuckled, straightening his back from semi-crouching position to stand to his full height. His hand left your face with a small pinch on your tear-stained cheek, tossing his knife from one hand to another as if he was juggling; finally gripping the handle tight König pointed the tip of sharp blade towards your boyfriend: - I want you to watch. You dare closing your eyes and she’s dead.

Your eyes widened in panic, staring fearfully at Paul, mouthing silent “please” at him. Maniac shifted his attention back to you; he put his knife into its holster which was attached to his thigh with tight leather straps, you noted that he didn’t secure the handle, making it easier to pull the knife out in one move if needed.

You watched as if in slow motion how his hands came to the waistband of his black jeans, undoing the button and tugging zipper down, pulling front pants pieces apart. Your gaze darted up towards his mask-covered face, confusion mixed with terror written on your face - your insides dropped as you finally realised what he actually meant.

- What? Doll, I promised to show you what a real man is like, - one big hand came to rest on the crown of your head, not pushing nor pulling, just staying there securely. - Now I warn you, you dare using your teeth - I’ll pluck every single one of them before gutting you like a fucking pig, you get it?

Your breath stopped upon hearing his words, shoulders started shaking as strong bout of adrenaline rushed through your veins, making your poor heart pound crazily, threatening to break your ribs from the inside. You nodded your head vigorously, all of a sudden extremely aware of the tight rope binding your wrists together, how your fingers prickled from constricted blood flow, how much your shoulders ached from being pulled back for so long.

- Good girl. Now, go on, - König said, lightly pushing your head towards his clothed crotch. You had to crane your head up painfully because of the height difference between you two in order to even reach König’s private parts. You gazed up at him, unsure of what exactly he wanted you to do, but he just stared down at you silently, not offering any instructions nor comments.

You darted your tongue out, licking a noticeable bulge showing through his boxers, soaking black fabric in your spit. You did it again, and again, fear and adrenaline subduing feelings of humiliation and shame, you could hear your boyfriend’s muffled “get your fucking hands off her”, but König didn’t seem to pay slightest attention to the other male. You tilted your head to the side, pressing your opened mouth to the thick shaft that was trapped between man’s v-line and his tight underwear, sucking on it softly. That made slasher heave a deep sigh, hand on your head tangled deeper in your hair, holding you firmly in place, indicating for you to keep going.

- Now pull my boxers down, - psycho ordered a few seconds later; his voice, though contorted by voice changer, now sounded deeper. You looked frightfully up at him, your hands still bound tightly behind your back.

- But… how? - you asked, a spark of hope igniting in your chest as thought of him untying your hands popped up in your head. But it was extinguished just as quickly as it appeared with his next words:

- Well, think about it, - he shrugged his broad shoulders ever so slightly, your mind racing at the speed of light as you tried to figure out the problem.

You opened your mouth, moving as slowly as you could to indicate that you didn’t mean to do anything reckless - baring your teeth and gently hooking the elastic of his boxers, your canines grazing slightly against warm skin of murderer’s lower stomach. Once you secured your hold on elastic you pulled down on it, managing to slide it down slightly. König’s hard cock sprung right out, standing tall and thick against his clothed stomach - tip was concealed by brownish foreskin, and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Your attention was caught by two symmetrical rows of shiny silver balls running along mighty shaft, glistening coldly is white light of living room’s chandelier.

- Now, doll, that’s what a real good cock looks like, - man said, his free hand came to wrap around thick shaft, pumping it a few times to reveal pink head, a shiny bead of precum sitting in the middle of it. - Open wide, princess. And mind your teeth.

You let your mouth fall open, sticking your tongue out; his cock was standing too high for you to reach it in your kneeling position so König had to guide his length down to your lips, your mouth managing to only take his tip and a little bit more inside.

With your mouth full of other man’s cock your eyes wandered in the direction of your boyfriend; thrashing around seemed to finally exhaust him, crimson blood oozed out of the wound in his stomach. His chest was heaving in tandem with his wheezing breath, angry tears streamed down his temples as he stared with fierce anger at your abuser, the sight made your throat clench, causing you to gag on killer’s hefty length.

- Aw, poor girl is not used to a decent cock, huh? Tell me, did the even reach down to your throat? Lemme guess - he was cumming a few minutes after shoving his pathetic ten centimetres in this precious mouth, wasn’t he? - König chuckled darkly, suddenly pushing down onto your head, forcing you to take half his length down your tight throat, keeping you in place as you choked around his thickness, metal balls were rubbing painfully against the softness of your tongue, irritating sensitive buds of it.

Murderer’s free hand joined the one resting on your nape, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail, fixating your head in one position. Tears of pain and humiliation rushed down your reddened cheeks as man fucked his massive cock into your tight throat; his pace was erratic, without certain rhythm, making it hard for you to synchronise your breathing with his irregular thrusts. Your lungs burned with lack of air, dainty kneecaps ached from standing for so long on hard flooring, surely bruising your tender skin.

He let go of you only when you actually started to choke, your whole face reddening with exertion; thick strings of spit mixed with precum connected your swollen lips to glistening pink tip, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping down your chin onto the floor below. A choked cry tore through your chest as massive hands manhandled you around, forcing your head down so that your wet cheek was pressed against cold hardwood facing your boyfriend, your back arched and ass up high in the air. König kneeled down behind you, backs of your thighs were touching coarse denim sitting snugly around his legs, cold metal rivets of his holster contrasting brutally with warmth of your skin. Broad palms kneaded on soft pudge of your ass, delivering a strong smack to the swell of your buttcheek, impact softened slightly by the fabric of your shorts and his glove.

Your boyfriend started thrashing as hard as ever, grunting and screaming as much as he could as König pulled your shorts along with your underwear down to your knees, huge hands resting on the bottom part of your ass, thumbs spreading your pussy open. Silent tears ran down from your eyes, gathering in a small puddle on the floor; you heard maniac tut behind your back, a pad of thumb swiped up and down your slit, making you jolt from sudden contact.

- What a shame, - he heaved a deep sigh, straightening his shoulders and looking up at your boyfriend. - She’s wet, dude.

A few small sobs left you upon his words. Paul tried talking back, but a horrible bubbling sound came out of his throat - gag in his mouth was completely red with absorbed blood, some of it oozed down the corners of his mouth, adding to the bloody mess on his face. You sobbed at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking at horrible picture.

- Turns out our little slut likes it rough, yeah? - König mocked, leaning over your frail form, one meaty forearm rested next to your head, huge chest pressed tightly against your back, overstimulating your thus on age senses. Terrifying mask was barely a few centimetres afar from your face as man whispered right next to your ear: - Did he ever fuck you rough?

His heavy gaze was fixed expectantly upon you, huge hand that still rested on your ass squeezed your flesh painfully, causing you to cringe. - No, - you mouthed, but that was more than enough for him. Slasher hummed in acknowledgment, straightening back into his kneeling position.

- Don’t worry love, I’ll give this pretty pussy what she needs, - psycho said, fisting his leaking cock a few times before aligning swollen tip against your tight entrance. With slow but persistent push of his hips König forced one third of his length inside your poor cunt, fresh dose of hot tears rushed from your eyes, pain of penetration adding to the ache all over your body.

With a sharp snap of his massive hips man forced as much of his cock as it’d go into you. Loud yelp tore through your throat, scratching it painfully; stretch of his girthy cock was too much for your pussy to take, ladder of piercings adding to unpleasant feeling. Tender walls fought against his thick length, such sudden stretch caused your muscles to reflexively constrict around him more, drawing a throaty groan to tumbling out of killer’s broad chest.

- There there, dearie. Poor pussy so used to pathetic cocks, can’t even take me whole, - König said in fake compassion, you felt his length throb within you, twitching a few times. Strong hands held you in place tightly, preventing you from moving your hips even for a millimetre.

Murderer generously allowed you a minute or so for your poor cunny to accommodate to his size before beginning to move his hips in shallow but quick thrusts. Soon enough König was full on fucking into you on rapid pace, your whole body jolting forward with intensity of his mighty thrusts, strong arms yanking you back in place every so often.

One of his deadly hands slithered around your ridiculously smaller form, index and middle fingers danced across your spread around his dick folds, causing your stomach to tense at sudden contact. Free hand yanked you up by the rope binding your wrists, urging you to raise your torso; your shoulder blades were pressed tightly against his heaving chest, warmth emitted off him like a fucking radiator.

Clothed fingertips rubbed tight relentless circles on your clit, causing thick pleasure to rush up and down your spine and your back arch uncontrollably. Your teeth clenched to suppress all the small sounds threatening to spill out of your lips; you felt König’s massive form shift behind you, cold plastic of horrendous mask pressed against the side of your face - he was whispering right into your ear, soft voice real and unchanged:

- I’m gonna slit your fucking throat if you’re not using it, - that caused a shiver to rush down your spine, arising goosebumps in its wake. You moaned out, doing as the murderer wanted, letting all the small sighs and moans flow freely from your lips, your voice lower than usual from all the crying and throatfucking.

Your breathing became shallow; your head just wasn’t working anymore - emotional shock along with physical abuse drained you out of all strength - you were a mere rug doll in psycho’s tight grip, and he could do whatever he pleased with you, you were too exhausted to fight back anyway.

Consciousness started to slip out of your grasp, vision blurred out with tears, dark spots appearing in the corners; König’s throbbing dick pounded your poor pussy mercilessly, thick cockhead nudged against all the sweet spots inside of you, his piercings stimulating you even further as if in spite of all your attempts to resist pleasure psycho was forcing onto you. A tight coil curled in the pit of your stomach, threatening to explode with every harsh snap of mighty hips against your reddened ass. Soaked with your slick fabric of König’s gloves felt overbearing against your clit, his fingers never once stopping to rub your sensitive nub.

A few moments later something deep within you snapped, like a rubber band stretched to its limit - suddenly the world around you turned white, ringing noise filled your ears as you had the most painful orgasm of your life being wrung out of you; your body quivered and thrashed in serial killer’s strong grip, unintelligible sounds and words poured out of your lips, barely louder than a whisper. And then everything became quiet. Soft velvet of darkness enveloped your bruised and exhausted body; you were drowning in warm waves of sleep, not finding it in yourself to try and fight them off. You gave in happily, trusting yourself in welcoming hands of darkness and quiet, afar from horrible reality, afar from fear and danger.

It felt as if your head was splitting in two - horrible ache settled somewhere deep inside of your brain, pain irradiated from within to the outsides of both hemispheres, causing you to groan in agony quietly in. Your whole body hurt, eyelids felt swollen and heavy even as they were closed; and then suddenly your eyes snapped open.

You were lying on cold hardwood flooring in your boyfriend’s living room, shorts and underwear still pulled down to your knees, but your hands now free from rope. You pulled your bottoms back up, hot tears pooling in your eyes as you let out a choked sob. You felt wretched, disgusting, dirty.

- Paul? - you called out to your boyfriend, the sound of your own voice startling you - hoarse and scratchy, total opposite from your usual octave.

As you turned around your breath got caught up in your chest, bitter ball of bile got stuck in your throat - you felt like you were about to throw up.

Here lay Paul - pale and lifeless, dull eyes staring blankly into nothingness, gag still fixed tightly around his head, now brown with dried out blood. Some of his insides spilled out of the gaping cut across his stomach, lying on the floor in a small heap right next to him, huge puddle of blood spread out on the floor, getting into all small cracks and gapes in wooden flooring.

And on the wall behind, in strange brownish color that looked all too similar to the caked blood on your boyfriend’s face, in sprawling handwriting were words:

SEE YOU SOON ♡

Slasher! König Masterlist

Another a/n: I’m planning on making it a series - let me know what you guys think<3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writes some love - we live off feedback<3

[mikaxoriki]

𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝐑. | a nishimura riki of 𝗘𝗡- fic ᴅ𝐢𝐬ℎ 002' [🍽️]

Killer!ni-ki×fem!reader [proofread]´ | <note from chef mika : ℬℴ𝓃 𝒶𝓅𝓅ℯ𝓉𝒾𝓉ℯ!´> |

Sneak peek(🔎):Wandering in your city is a new killer quenching his blood lust.He goes by the intial 𝐑.,as you stumble upon an abandoned church you find him.The 𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝐑.

ingredients💭:Horror,gore,mentions of blood,weapons,fear,dark themes,animal killing,claustrophobia,nyctophobia,childhood trauma.

Another body found,another killing happened two hours ago.

The TV showed the body blurred and bloodied.It makes your stomach twist.How could someone ruthlessly kill another.The state of the body was really bad to the point it was hard for the cops to identify and call their family.The affected family is shown as they cry and curse the killer.You could see it the fear,the urge to avenge their son but he lives in the shadows.All you know is he goes by the intial 𝐑.Every single victim's body has the initial carved onto their skin.The reporters,the people,the cops everyone addresses the killer as 𝐑.It's sad that it is the only piece of information about him. 𝐑. is the killer's trademark,the one he proudly carves and leaves it etched onto the skin of the victims.Sighing to yourself,you reach for the remote and turn off the TV.You head to the kitchen grabbing yourself a cup of water,tomorrow you had class.Same boring schedule.The class is early but it doesn't stop you from sleeping late.Well...you instead sleep in the class anyways.You open the refridgerator and mentally make a note of the groceries you need to buy tomorrow after the class ends.All the past weeks ever since the new killer made himself known by killing poor people, you had been feeling paranoid.It was unsettling,you thought about moving out of the city.But that was even more dangerous.The streets were dangerous even for the stray dogs.You could hear distant barking even now.He was smart enough,he lives in the shadows.No one knows a thing about him.No one has seen him or even if they did well they didn't live.He kills animals brutally too.Stray dogs,cats,goats and cows of poor farmers.

You head to your bed,tossing and turning trying to sleep.You still couldn't get the blurred victim's body and the fear in their family's eyes out of your mind.You opted to stare at your ceiling till you fell into a peaceful slumber. The sun shined through your curtains,too bright.You overslept as usual.Scrambling to your feet you lazily step into the shower taking a nice hot bath.You make yourself a simple sandwich and grab an apple to eat on the way.Getting your bag you slung it across your shoulder with hurried steps.You locked your door as you kept the key in your backpack and ran to the subway.You always have travelled in subways.Sweaty people,tight packed,no air.You didn't ever have the chance to live in luxury.You were abandoned by your parents and since then it has been only you.You remember the bright personality you had when you were around them,too many friends,birthday parties,sleepovers....just happiness which you haven't felt in years since you moved here.You failed them,your parents.They had always been a little too expectant about you.You wonder how your older two goody shoes sister might be living.She would've taken your place,replaced you.Just like everyone did and now you're a no one. Faded in the background,no friends,people barely look at you.They barely accept your existence,the popular cheerful girls were no saints.They had secrets that would make you think twice about the real them.Yet people always surround them,follow them everywhere.You envied them.Liars.You hated liars.You hated people who never accepted you,who never showed up when they promised you they would.All you can do is wonder,you don't want to ever go back.Being kicked out by your parents for what you didn't do when you were sixteen was cruel.Hell,you couldn't even find jobs. Working as a part-timer in every job you could find just so you could have some money in your hands to feed yourself and pay the rents.It was exhausting,it still is.You've skipped meals sometimes too,unfortunately.

The train comes to a stop,you had taken subways long enough to know your station even if you are lost in thought.You quietly get out clutching onto your backpack and make a run to the campus.As you enter you see the students who shamelessly give you looks.You didn't mind them as you took a stride to your class.You opened the door as slowly as you could knowing you will get an earful again today.The professor gave you a lecture infront of the whole class again.Something about coming late everyday and getting average grades.He should be thankful you are even alive.You don't mind him much,just standing there staring at him as he goes on about how unacceptable your behaviour was.When he was finally finished,you headed to your seat.Looking out the window,sketching in your diary,sneaking a lollipop.As usual you were distracted but you made sure to make some notes now and then to help you pass.The break was awful,you skipped lunch again just telling yourself you will make yourself a better dinner.You wanted to save the money you had been working your ass to get.Pay rents,study well,get a qualification for better jobs.These were your goals.You were a survivor indeed.The class ended finally as you saw people grumbling about some horrible classes to their friends.Wish you had one honestly.You weren't a loner by choice,it's just people never really minded you and looked down on you.You were better than them anyways.Working hard by yourself,no support from your parents.You were glad you were alive.They should be too but well they don't know you.Would they even start wondering if you disappeared? Maybe.It was evening and you went to the grocery store to grab something useful for a real meal.Your shopping cart was somewhat full,you saved up enough money anyways.You paid at the cashier counter and returned home taking the subway as usual.

After you treated yourself to a good dinner and slipped into your comfortable clothes,your phone rang.Picking it up and placing it near your ear,you were called for another extra shift from one of your part-time jobs.You never agreed to do a late night shift,but it happens sometimes.You didn't ever go after the arrival of the new killer but your manager threatened to cut some off of your monthly salary.You had to agree,you cannot afford to even lose a penny.It was tight for you.Grabbing an old coat from your hanger,you left the house.It was always chilly in the night,even through your coat you felt the cold.You reached the subway only to see that you had missed it.Great.You had only a few minutes to reach here and catch the train but it was too cold and you were tired.The another one is after 3 hours.Your shift would've been ended by then.The only way was to go through the eerie street that was a few meters away.Turning on the map in your phone.You were being navigated to one of the convenience store you work in.The street was creepy,you had never taken this way.There was pure silence.The faulty streetlights flickered above you now and then.Everything was scaring you now....the snap of a stick,rustling of leaves,the distant howling and barking of dogs and even your own footsteps.You hated the dark.You always turned on the lights even when you slept.Even if people didn't notice you,it was good being surrounded by busy chatter,the occasional horns of vehicles that passed by.But here it was too eerie,as if this street itself is separate from the whole world.Might as well be a new dimension.The street corners where dark,some streetlights went off the more you made your way.There was darkness everywhere lurking.You hated it.

While walking by yourself you came across an old abandoned church that wasn't on the map.It was half demolished,creepers went alongside of it.You checked your map again but according to the map there was not a place like that.It must've been not addressed since it's old and no one seems to be using it.That state of it ensures that it must've been built a century ago.The tinted glass were cracked in some places.The paint was peeling off on itself.Just as you let your mind wander,your phone rang surprising you.You could hear your heartbeat loud in your ears.Your phone continued to ring as you picked it up.You were informed that you need not come,they had already found an alternative to cover the extra shift.Letting out a relieved sigh,you tuck your phone in your coat's pocket.Just as when you were about to leave,you heard a faint movement.You turned back,no one seemed to be in sight just the old creepy church standing tall with a cross on it.You were intrigued.Stepping out of your fear of darkness,you turn on your phone torch and head towards it.Taking slow steady steps you reached it's entrance.As you walked in,the stoned floor was cool beneath your feet,you could feel it through your shoes.There was dirt and webs in the corners.You quietly ignored them and headed to the centre of it,the choir area stood with an elevated floor made of wooden floorboard.The floorboard creaked beneath your feet as you stepped on it.An old piano sat beautifully in the centre covered in dust and webs.You did learn to play the piano when you were a kid.Cleaning off the dust on the piano with your kerchief you placed your finger on a key.As soon as the sound was produced,you were startled and took a step back.The old piano sounded weird and that sound cutting through the silence you were kind of used to now scared you a bit.Maybe it needed some tuning.It made a weird sound like that of the pianos in horror movies.You step down and see the altar behind it.It was beautifully designed and up above was the crucifix.But something was wrong,jesus had only one eye,it seemed the other fell off? or maybe a fellow visitor like you long ago poked it for scaring people.You stepped closer scanning it,in a small font on his chest was written 'The darkness lurks here the most'.What was that supposed to mean? You look around again,it was clearly just an abandoned church.You admired the old painting on the side walking through the aisles.Your phone's flashlight abruptly cut off.Your phone died.You should've charged it a bit when you were getting ready.Sighing to yourself,you turn to the paintings again.

Suddenly two keys from the piano sounded loud,echoing throughout the whole building.You turned around fast,your phone clutched in your hand.It sounded even worse than the one you accidentally played.You couldn't make out much since it was too dark.You held your breath and slowly took steps back,you swear you saw a figure pass right by after it sounded.You tripped on a bench's foot and twisted your ankle.Clutching your ankle in pain you fell to the ground.The pain was unbearable.You let out silent sobs as you tried to get out but the church doors were closed.When did that happen? Perhaps you were too distracted staring at the painting.Someone is definitely in here.Closing your mouth with your hand,you stood.Limping you pushed the door open.Just as you did,you heard metal screeching across the stoned floor.It stopped right after a few feet behind you.You tried your best to exit as you were yanked back.You fell to the ground with a painful scream.Your ankle felt even more worse.Looking up there was a dark figure standing tall.A man stood,some of the moonlight that penetrated through the open door made you realise that this man was partially masked and had something long in their hand.The man raised it suddenly and then you saw,it was a metal baseball bat with metal wires and thorns around it with 𝐑. engraved on the centre.You pushed yourself back with a whimper as it swinged in empty air.You were supposed to take that hit.Fear coursed through your veins as it fueled you to run through the open door.It was him,the new ruthless killer who made fear overtake your city.The church was surrounded in dirt and grass,every snap of a stick made you anxious.He was getting closer,before you could even make it to the streets,the bat hit your twisted ankle.You stumbled in pain, nothing helped though.He pulled you by the collar of your coat,swinging the bat to your right arm.Your screams were muffled as he held your mouth tight with his gloved hands.His dark eyes gleamed under the moonlight.

Panic overtook you as you saw black spots on your vision,you faint ultimately.Your body slumps against him as he comprehends what just happened.Did you just really have to faint on him? All the adrenaline rush he was getting came to a stop.Great,now how does he feed off of your fear.He really had been craving for a victim like you,it's been weeks since he got a proper one.You seemed very reactive and he thought he could watch how you eventually would give up screaming,throat dry,eyes glossy but would still do anything to survive.You're a fighter,he sees that alright but he loves draining the life out of them.Never has he left a victim survive but he can't get the thrill if you lay like that,already seeming lifeless unconsious.Maybe next time he says to himself as he drags your body and puts you on the streets.He would find you anyways,you're a potential threat to him afterall.The only one who witnessed him but about to survive him.Sighing to himself he disappears in the abandoned church again.

Sharp white light blinds your vision even through your closed eyes as you adjust your eyes to the lighting.First thing that came to view was the white cold walls,the room reeking of disinfectant.Looking down you saw your ankle and your right arm bandaged.That's when it clicked,you are in a hospital.Your eyes flicker to the calendar and the clock trying to make sense of today's date.You really thought you had died and then you remember the remnants of yesterday night.Killer 𝐑.,you,abandoned church,sprained ankle,hurt right arm...just all of it.The door clicks open as a nurse enters,she asks you a few questions about how you're feeling,the pain on the ankle,your arm and lastly explains how you were admitted.It seems some middle aged woman of that neighborhood found you that morning when she was on her way to work.You heard from the nurse that she was super kind and covered your hospital bills and hurriedly left to work.You were relieved but then you remembered your shift,your classes but the nurse insisted you should stay here till your ankle and arm gets well and when you're somewhat able to walk and mover your arm.You feel the pain faint but pulsing on your ankle,you had twisted it in a great force after all,in panic too.You right arm felt heavy and bruised.But what upsetted you is that the woman who admitted you called the cops and now they were here extracting every information as you told them everything that happened last night.You thought about keeping it to yourself but if he comes for you again it might be dangerous.It seems that immediately they went to the location for inspection to find clues but he wasn't in sight of course.The day dragged on as you were discharged in the evening,feeling somewhat good about the pain on your ankle and your arm.You were requested to rest for atleast three days but you had to go to your shifts.You can't run out of money.

Classes,shifts and sometimes a panic attack when you feel paranoid at night all over again.This night was nothing much but the same.You were washing your face and just as you closed your eyes you felt it.Darkness, panic,the way he was about to kill you.It felt as if you were being suffocated,you quickly opened your eyes.You looked at your reflection on the mirror.Trembling lips,dark eye bags adorned your face.Scared.That's what you were.You're not the strongest when it comes to death,to you death is scary.Because it means all the work you put in to live,to survive has finally gone to waste.You can't sleep again,the scene flashing in your mind when you try to close your eyes.Oh how 𝐑. has made your life miserable.You hope he's happy with just that and does not come after you again.Lowkey you might as well kiss his ass for making you almost escape your miserable life and give in to death but no.You're not gonna let him win,take your life.You were scared and angry whenever you saw his initial flash again in the news.He's killed too many after you.That means he moved on from you right? Forgot about you and found better people to prey on right? You hope that's what it means.Weeks turned into months and you were finally yourself somewhat.The cops did watch over you at the start as they were sure he would come again and take a chance at you.But if felt like he knew so he never came and the cops gave up.Trying to focus on new victims he had killed.He was surprisingly clean even though his killings were messy and gory.Too smart,too calculated.People who are sick in the head might as well inspire him and take notes or people who are desperate for success might as well make him the main character of a movie or a book.He was theatrical,perfect for a killer.

That night when he left you unconscious on the road,something else happened too.He heard footsteps from afar coming closer,the sound of someone's breath heaving.It wasn't someone rather something,it was a stray dog.Sitting under the streetlight it started barking looking at you and then him.It was like it perfectly understood the situation,it's barks got louder then stopped whole.He made it stop.He had swinged his bat across the dog,it's barks dying down into little huffs as it laid there bleeding embracing death.He wished he killed you with that satisfaction. He did not do it because he wanted to,he had no other choice.Before the dog could alert the neighbourhood with its unusual loud barking,he took care of it in his own way.It was mostly the same with other animals he had killed too,they tried to make too much noise after they saw the victim killed and bleeding on the ground.He remembers how it started,he killed a farmer far off from the city on it's suburb region.A peaceful quite village with the smell and sound of nature.So he did his best to destroy it.Though he felt a bit sorry at first,he is totally unapologetic now.It had become quite an often occurrence.Whatever keeps him in the shadows.But before anyone could even discover the body or it's rotting smell.He dropped it off in the lake behind the abandoned church.He felt good that he atleast killed something that night rather than you.He was a sickhead for sure,that's what brought him to be a killer in the first place after all.He tries not too kill animals too much and not without a reason but animals are too instinctual to his liking,always knowing way too much for something that can't speak.

You were in your shift,the news channel flashing the rotting body of the dog blurred as the reporter remarks how cruel it was of the killer again but all you can do is stare.It was him again.You do remember the barks from the dog while you were in the void unmoving.It was a thing,even if you faint you still hear things from the background but your memory betrays you.You put together the pieces and guess that it had been the dog from that night,trying to be a guardian saving you with it's loud barks.You feel so sorry to that dog.A stray dog much similar like you and unguarded.It should've bit him,pounced on him.Should've done something to stop him. You should've done something too,so that you wouldn't have to feel paranoid often.The same anxious feeling washes over you.You thought you had let go of it but fear embraced you every time a new killing happened and it was all over the news.It had gone out the government's hand,all of it was a clean sin.No clear clues,just the bloodied bodies and their family grieving.It had become a cycle now.Something every one in this city is used to.As you are working in the convience store,checking the bills,overseeing how many money had added up,helping the customers check out,offering them a bag but to put the things they bought in,putting on a fake smile,cheerfully saying come again,stacking up the racks and arranging new stocks throwing out the expired ones even the honk of vehicles and the bell to the shop that rings when someone enters startles you.It was just you now,customers stopped coming and the streets started getting emptier but you still had your shift.You were just thankful you managed to get all the morning shifts but today your manager called you up saying you should take an extra one since the one that is supposed to work is on a sick leave.Not again.He assured you it will be only till evening.But today dusk came too soon,the outside getting darker than usual.The clouds in the sky rumbling with the hint of a heavy rain.You had your long rain coat ready,folded on the chair next to you.The weathermen had already predicted it.You love the rain but being out in rain was not your thing.The rain drops felt too sticky on your skin,the road turning slippery and damp,mud on the sideways,the cold that embraced your system.You could only pray you would get home in a good condition.

You heard faint buzzing that eventually became loud and the electricity went off fully.You grabbed a torch near you,not the darkness again.Huffing to yourself you glance out not seeing any light outside too.Perhaps it was a power shut down.Then came the rain breaking the silence.Loud thunders and eye blinding lightning took over,some of the little rain drops clinging to your skin from the open window.Walking over to the window,you pulled it shut annoyed.You got your phone from your back pocket desperately trying to entertain yourself with the hot spot you had paid for but you recieve a message that plops up on your screen stating that you won't be able to use it anymore since today was the due date.Well it's not like the towers work anyway judging by a loud thud somewhere afar.Heavy thunderstorm makes the trees fall,some swinging too vigorously and the towers too get struck by lightning.You sat on the cashier counter,bored.Drumming your fingers on the counter,you fanned yourself for more air.You could do anything now since even the cctv's went off too.It's red flickering light absent.You heard a loud breaking of glass.It sounded from the storage room,the eerie one filled with more darkness than any other room here.You took deliberate steps towards the storage room with the torch trembling in your hand.You almost dropped it when it flickered,almost screamed. Gripping it tightly,you entered.Opening the door slowly afraid of what might be there.There was only one window and it was broken.You saw wet drops of rain on the floor.As you trailed it you saw paw prints? Turning to the corner you saw a dark cat drenched and shivering.You went near it,holding it.It shifted comfortably basking in your warmth.It's soaked furr making your shirt wet.It looked up,green eyes gazing up full of warmth in the dark.You loved black cats disregarding the fact that they are said to bring bad luck if you stumble upon one.More relieved now,you started to actually think.A cat as small as that broke the window? No.Realisation dawned upon you as you heard the bell ring to the front door of the convenience store.You knew it wasn't a customer.You were scared,so scared.Holding on to the cat,you sat there silent for a few minutes.You can't keep doing this,you detached yourself from the cat.It's head tilting in confusion seeing you walk away.It's tail wagged,eyes pleading to have you back there holding it.But you walked away picking up the torch you had left on a box.

You closed the door behind you slowly and made your way to the centre.The front door was locked from the outside.The bell stood in mid air triggered a bit.No,this was not happening.Someone had locked you from outside.How had you not noticed? The dark overtook the space but you should've figured it out,caught onto it sooner.But looking at how the window was broken and the front door locked.Someone was inside here with you.You felt it,a pair of eyes watching you from behind one of the racks.Your breath started getting heavy.Was it him again? 𝐑.You didn't want to find out.You started tiptoeing your way to the storage room to escape through the open broken window.But he was too smart,with a few steps he was behind you.With a swift motion he had you in a headlock, suffocating you from behind.You slapped his arm that was wrapped around your neck but that did nothing,in fact it only tightened his hold on you.Looking around in panic you saw a heavy bottle of wine near you,sitting on the rack.Without thinking twice you reached for it and smashed it on him.With that you started running,opening the door to the storage room with a loud thud you leaped out of the window.The cat was still there confused and sad.Without looking back you started running.You heard him behind you,both of your footsteps splashing the stagnant water on the road.The rain drenched you,slowed you down as your clothes clinged to you like second skin.Skin sticky with rain,hair too,feet covered in dirty rainwater and mud.You felt the leaves stick to your shoes. Suddenly it stopped,the footsteps behind you.Letting out heavy breaths you looked back,it was just you.He had stopped chasing you or maybe lost you since you took a sharp turn into another road.You finally leaned against the wall relieved,holding a hand to your chest evening out your ragged breaths.Then you heard it again the sound of metal from your right.The baseball bat,his weapon.You were alarmed now taking a few steps back.He emerges out of the shadows,he tilts his head playing with his bat as if to ask you 'Done with the run now?'.He made you lose all of your energy and hid somewhere to refill his energy before coming again to thrill you.Smartass.With a little amount of energy left,you dashed into an empty tolet building and hid in a closet in the corner.It seems they hadn't taken out the interiors yet or maybe it was left like this to be rented out.The darkness enveloped you and you were feeling anxious again,not only because you were afraid of the dark it was because of your claustrophobia too.Something you had to deal with since childhood,the space too crooked,it felt as if it was closing on you.You held your breath when you heard the door open.

He roamed around with the bat hitting the ground rhythmically and he stopped in front of the closet.You could see him reaching out to pull it open.With no choice you opened it harshly,the door hitting his head.Knocking the air out of him.You ran again into a street you weren't familiar with and stopped in your tracks.It was a dead end.You couldn't do anything now he was already approaching dragging his bat lazily.He clicked his tongue and shook his head as if to say 'poor you,chose the wrong way'.You could only step back and he stopped in front of you.His breath hitting you.You flinched upon the closeness.There it was,the claustrophobia again,it wasn't a closed space but he was enough to suffocate you with his presence.You looked up meeting his dark brown orbs and the rest of his face was partially covered with a mask.He aimed his bat at you and for the first time you spoke with a broken whisper, "Please don't do it".He wasn't used to your voice so he looked rather surprised but then scoffed and swung it at you,it hit the wall near you as you dodged it.His bat was a bit damaged,gritting his teeth,he vigorously swung it again and again.You managed to dodge all of it but you knew he could have you killed anytime now."Stop,please listen to me" you said with a louder voice that made him stop before lunging at you with crazed eyes.He gripped your throat."You should be thankful i didn't chop you into pieces of meat" he said dragging his eyes down your afraid form.He loved how you were trembling,shaking in his grip helpless.But he released your throat."I'm not gonna let you faint on me again" he says roughly turning you on your back and pressing you to the wall.He pulls out a dagger from his pocket drawing a line on the back of your neck.You cry out in pain,the blood staining your hair and the back of your shirt.He relished in it but as soon as he turned you to face him,his face fell.Your eyes were not glossy instead you were full on crying and hiccuping.You looked like you would die even before he killed you.Your breath came out in shallow gasps,struggling to breathe.

Panic attacks.He remembers when he used to have those as a child.Embracing darkness and living in the shadows wasn't easy as he watched the world be selfish and bright and move on.His eyes darted to you again.You were on the edge of losing yourself.He hesitated once,twice then his gloved hands brushed your bloodied strand of hair back.His lips pressed to you as he kissed you out of the struggles.You should've found it even more scary but you seemed to calm down.He kissed you till you felt as if flowers has bloomed in your lungs adorning your ribcage.He pulled out,his eyes darting to yours again.Then without a word he leaves lazily dragging his bat,the sound filling your ears.You could only blink and watch him leave.

It has been a week after that,the killings stopped.Just when you want to desperately know him,there are no signs of him.No 𝐑. flashing on the news channels in bold letters.You were sick for thinking back how he kissed you.How no one ever has even dared to touch you or spare a glance but a man who preys on you for his bloodlust kisses you and leaves you alive.You had been going to more classes trying to get it out of your mind.More shifts but the thought floated in the back of your mind.Call it yearning but you wondered what he was doing now.Would he have been thinking about you too? Or was he even alive.Crazy how you were wondering about what a literal killer was doing,alive or not.But to you he is not a killer anymore,to you he is the man who kissed you to save you from your miserable panic attacks.You dying is what he wanted but when he saw you struggling he kissed you to ease you out of it.The worst part was he walked away without a word.No words said.You still remember his crazed rough voice but you want to hear him sane.His normal voice.You spent your mornings imagining what would have happened if you had met him before this mess.He should've had his reasons too maybe you would've eased him out of it too if you had found him.You were so curious about him now.Was he feeling emotionally conflicted after kissing you? Is that why the killings stopped? Was it his first kiss? Silly thoughts like this clouded your head at night.You wanted to go back for once.You had no panic attacks or paranoia after that.You knew he was harmless now.Something about the way he looked at you told you he reconsidered the whole killing part.His whole miserable life in the shadows.

You went to the place again.Then walked the same dead end.You weren't so scared of the dark now because it reminded you of him.It eased you.You might call him your first love as well.For once you yearned.You ran your hand across the wall,your blood still faintly clinging to it.He left you feeling crazy.A feeling you can't quite put your hands on or decipher.When you were about to turn around and leave,you heard footsteps stopping in the sight of you.You turned around to see him still masked but no weapon in hand.The night was chilly turning your fingertips cold.He turned to leave "Wait!" you said to him as you stepped closer.He faced you again,his eyes unrelenting."Thanks" you mutter out suddenly causing him to raise his eyebrow.You continued louder "For not killing me and freeing me of my panic attacks" you said gazing at him.He stood there as if he wants to say something but decides against it turning to leaving again.This time you go to his front blocking his path as you hold the sleeve of his shirt.He looks at you again confused as to why you're not backing down.That's all you had to say right?.You voice out what you've been craving to tell him even when you imagined the conversation in your head distracted during class "I haven't had those panic attacks ever again and I'm not so scared of the dark now because it reminds me of you.You ease out every noisy thought in my head.Ever since you kissed me that night i just can't help but hope to see you again." you say with determined eyes.His eyes soften before it turns back to dark and cold.He shakes his head "You don't understand, you're not supposed to be here this close to me." He says,his real voice slipping in as you take it in making sure to replay his voice in your head a thousand times."What did that kiss mean to you? Did you even want to comfort me or was it an impulse mistake" you ask with hope in your eyes.He replies looking away "You're just infatuated.I'm no good for you,stay away".You ask him boldly "But i don't want to,i know something snapped that day when you kissed me right? all that cruel killings you have been doing stopped.Are you confused about your feelings now?".He looks at you for sometime staying silent before looking behind you not quite focusing on you.You inched closer your cold fingertips brushing the edges of his mask."Can i take it off?" You ask and he looks at you with disbelief."You want to see the face of someone who almost killed you, chased you down the streets and haunted your memories?" he asks before lowering his gaze to his wrist.You look at where his gaze meets and release his sleeve.But still you stood closer to him and without missing a beat you said yes."Go on but you'll never be able to go back" he said hoping to make you walk away.You nod as you silently take off his sleek partial black mask.

The moonlight highlighted his features as you took in his visuals.Your mouth opens then closes and he only gets more confused."Is there something on my face?" he asks casually but you were too busy being awestruck.You reply a minute after just silently admiring him "You're way too pretty".His eyebrows scrunched,did you just call him pretty.Were you not aware of how dangerous he was and how he still has his bloody dagger in his pocket.He walked away finally and you let him.Because for once now you know his real voice and his real face.You kept going there at nights.He didn't show up but did one night.Holding you after not accepting you for so long.He walked you to your home,kissing your forehead and mumbling a good night before disappearing again.He always showed up at nights.One night you had asked him "Why did you stop the killings?" curiously and to that he replied "Because after i looked at you,i decided i didn't have to anymore.Not only sick twisted things made me happy but something sweeter and more human made me happy.You.I realised after that night that i won't do it again to keep me thrilled".Days passed as he started showing up on mornings too sometimes entering the store when you were on your shift.He was let out in the light,felt colours because he had you and he would never want more.This night as you were cuddling with him you dramatically gasped and he turned to you "Wait,i didn't get your name and you didn't get my name too".You said as you realised you have been calling him 𝐑. occasionally,a smile spread on his face "Thought you'd never ask.My name is Riki.Nishimura riki" he said as his huge frame hugged you.Draping your leg over him you uttered out your name.You also discovered how ni-ki was another name his friends made up when he was a kid.You found out more about his past as you shared some of yours too.He adapted to your light and you adapted to his darkness.Life has never felt more simple,warm and light.And you'd have to say he will forever be your 𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝐑.

𝒞ℎ𝑒𝑓'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒: Was it delicious? I had regrets about this dish but i promise i'll get better!.Leave ratings as usual!! [✩✩✩✩✩/✩✩✩✩✩].

[lordprettyflackotara]

huntin’ wabbitz || eyeless jack

REALLY FILTHY SMUT MINORS DNI. tw: size kink, disgusting sex in the woods/rain, breeding (obvi), slight cnc if you squint, brief descriptions of gore. i really like this one guys im locked in fr

Fear.

It was the only adrenaline you had left.

The wind slapped you in the face as you weaved through the forest, avoiding the large oak trees that threatened to block your escape.

Your lungs felt like they were on fire, your breath shallow as you tried to listen to the footsteps following you. The man, no, the creature that was hunting you, was going to eat you alive. It was a tragic accident, disturbing a seeming cannibal from his dinner.

If his head hadn’t snapped up to meet your horrified gaze you might’ve passed out from the sight of unidentifiable piles of meat. That was all that was left of his previous victim. You could barely even process it being a person, it’s ribcage torn open brutally. You had never seen anything like it.

Your breath had hitched, your heart threatening to burst out of your own ribcage the longer you stood frozen. It was the demons haunting gaze that snapped you out of your trance. Its mask displayed empty eye sockets. If you were lucky, the demon would be blind. Unfortunately for you, you were far from lucky.

Your heart was racing like a rabbits, the sound like heroin to the demon nipping at your heels. It was then you felt a rain drop fall from the cruel sky, a convenient lighting bolt briefly illuminating the forest. You looked around, forcing yourself to stop. Your lungs were pleading for air, your mouth agape as you inhaled as much oxygen as physically possible. Your eyes darted around nervously, searching for the tall cannibal. You tried to listen to the forest, noting its silence.

It was eerie, the only sound ensuing being the rain droplets falling from the sky. Its companion was a low rumble of thunder that sounded far off in the distance. You leaned against a tree, paranoid as your lungs tried to regain consistency in breathing. You swallowed as you scanned your surroundings. Every direction looked the exact same. You audibly were panting as you searched for any sign of originality. Any sign of a marker that could lead you back to safety.

You had wondered away from your campsite with your friends, opting to explore a river you believed to be nearby. You had found your requested river, with a seated cannibal tearing organs apart in front of it. You felt like you were going to be sick, nausea washing over you. Foolishly you had left your phone behind, leaving you entirely on your own. Anything to connect with nature, right? Except this demon wasn’t apart of nature. Or maybe it was. Maybe it was a cruel joke the maker above thought would be funny.

Your vision was growing hazy, the rain from above beginning to pour. You could feel the rain droplets drip onto you, penetrating your clothes. It was then a large set of hands clamped onto your shoulders, your body jolting into action. As swift as you could you turned around, planting a firm punch to the attackers face. Your knuckles screamed in pain as you watched the demon stumble, his dark gray hands pawing at his mouth. You watched as his hands lowered, a crack splitting down the left cheek of the blue mask.

Your realization and the demons ensued at the same time, neither of you moving as another lightning bolt struck. Its light briefly lit up the forest, flashing a glimpse of the creatures silent rage. You turned on your heels, throwing yourself into the night as you tried to escape the creatures grasp. You didn’t get very far, the breath being knocked out of your lungs as the demon threw you against the mud below. You thrashed under his touch, trying to kick and punch any part of him.

The attempts at retaliation meant nothing, the demons eye sockets narrowing as he pinned your wrist by your head. His slender fingers were strong, gripping your tiny wrist and holding them by your head menacingly. “You’re a real fucking bitch you know that?” He growled. You noticed the dried blood on his hands staining your skin, the rain washing away it away. “At least i’m not a cannibal you sick fuck!” You fired back. The demon above you hovered for a moment, contemplating your courage. He couldn’t determine if you were brave or stupid.

“I am not a human,” The creature stated dryly. He lifted his mask, grabbing your frantic arm before it could do any damage. You watched as he smiled, his teeth razor sharp and blood stained. “However, your kind created what I am,” He purred. He leaned down, eerily close to your throat. You listened to him inhale deeply through his nose. Your breaths became more shallow as the realization fell over you, that he was smelling you because you were prey.

Clearly insults and threats weren’t working, the demons ears twitching. Your eyes narrowed as they twitched, realizing each little movement matched up with the sound of your heart beat. “You can hear my heart beat?” You asked. The rain had soaked the demon as well at this point, his brunette hair sticking to his forehead. Thunder rumbled around the both of you, your mouth running dry despite the on pour of rain. “As clearly as you can hear the thunder,” He replied. He finished taking off his mask, watching your face twist in horror as his full face was revealed.

His mask wasn’t an illusion after all. If anything it was a raw and brutal window, one full of transparency. You felt tongue tied as you stared into the demons empty eye sockets. A black ooze dripped down his under eyes, the substance seemingly leaking from the sockets. The creatures lips curled upwards into a devious small. “Scared yet?” He asked. The lightning flashed again, revealing the blood that still stained his rows of razor blade sharp teeth. You slowly nodded yes, afraid to speak any further. His eye sockets narrowed as he leaned closer to your face.

“At least you’re honest. Most of your kind isn’t,” He huffed. You watched as he dug into his black hoodie, pulling a small medical tool. You squinted as you tried to see exactly what the metal was, a strike of lightning revealing the scalpel. You froze as one of his large hands trailed down to the hem of your shirt. He was bringing the metal blade slowly to your stomach, your heart pounding. “Wait wait wait, don’t,” You say. The demons gaze lands on your face. If he had eyes he would’ve rolled them. “Is this the part where you start begging me to live? You aren’t better than your counterparts you know,” He huffed.

Your eyes were glued to the scalpel. There was no way he could be hungry after what you saw. “No, this is the part where I offer you something else,” You answered defiantly. The creature stared down at you in amusement. Your heart was pitter pattering like a little rabbit, his lips curling up into a mischievous smile. “Oh yeah? What could you possibly offer me?” He asked tauntingly. Truthfully money was useless, that wouldn’t work. The only valuable thing you had was your body. Which is what he wanted. Unless of course, you could offer him a different part of your body.

“I’ll let you fuck me,” You told him. Your breathing felt shallow as you watched the demons face fall into deep concentration. “Must be lonely living out here, right? I can fix that,” You continued, your voice trailing off. He stared down at you, watching you carefully. “You got a name rabbit?” The demon asked you. You cleared your throat as best as you could. “Y-yeah i’m-” You began, the demon cutting you off.

“Changed my mind, doesn’t matter. When you’re with me your name is rabbit, got it?” He huffed. His large hands slithered up to your bra, soaked with the rain falling from above. “Do you uh- you know, have a name?” You asked quietly. He squeezed at your breast through your bra, your core beginning to throb in desire. “EJ, but you can call me Jack,” He said quietly. Jack leaned forward, his lips hovering an inch away from yours. Your breath hitched, the smell of blood flooding your nostrils. “Dont be scared rabbit, I don’t bite,” He cooed. Jack teasingly leaned in closer to your ear, grinning, “And the taste of blood grows on you after a while.”

Jack brought his lips to yours, the taste of copper overwhelming your senses. You could feel yourself visibly cringing, Jacks hands shoving your bra upwards. His teased your nipples playfully, your tense body beginning to relax. You felt disgusted, lying in mud as the rain fell from the skies above with a demon toying with your body. You groaned as he twisted your nipples playfully, grinning into the kiss as he did so. “Oh I see, someone’s a little masochist,” He hummed. Jack chucked darkly as his lips strayed away from yours, trailing down to your neck.

Thunder rumbled around the both of you, your eyes fluttering shut as he began sucking at your neck. Jack knew he had to be careful, his teeth able to penetrate your delicate skin and dig straight into an artery. You’d bleed out before he could even have some real fun. He did crave you though, the closer he got to your skin the more feral you drove him. He wanted to devour your organs so bad it made him sick, his cock throbbing with desire as you groaned beneath him. “Thats it, keep making those noises for me,” Jack purred, his lips reattaching to your skin.

He had no perception of how rough he actually was, your neck becoming littered with dark purple and brown marks. His hand trailed down to your shorts, slipping underneath the thin fabric. Teasingly he rubbed two fingers along your slit, grinning as he felt your wetness. “Someone’s awfully drenched for the terrible cannibal, aren’t they?” He asked mockingly. You swallowed, gaining the courage to look at him. His dark gaze sent a chill down your spine. “It’s just from the rain,” You lied. You couldn’t explain what your body was doing. That it actually wanted this.

Jack pushed your panties to the side, rubbing his fingers against your bare cunt. You whined at the smallest stimulation, the demon above you becoming amused. Jack hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in a long time, his primal urges preventing him from doing so. But he knew his anatomy. He began to rub slow circles around your clit, relishing in the sight of your back arching off of the ground. “Fu-fuck-” You whimpered. You gasped as Jack shoved two of his slender fingers inside of you. He curled them with ease, his cock only growing harder at the feeling of how tight you were.

You hadn’t expected to feel this good, whimpers escaping your lips. “Thats it, such a good fucktoy for me,” Jack praised. He tilted his head to the side as he watched your eyes roll into the back of your head. You were crumbling around his fingers and he had barely even touched you yet. “That feel good? Hmm? The big bad freak gonna make you cum?” He asked mockingly. You couldn’t control the moans that escaped your mouth, your hair becoming drenched from the ongoing storm.

He continued to abuse your g spot, watching your cute facial expressions as he ruined you. “F-fuck Jack I’m gonna c-cum,” You stammered, unable to control the knot forming in your stomach. Jack couldn’t get enough of you. The sound of your voice moaning his name enough to make his cock twitch. “Yeah? Go on then, you can do it. Cum for me,” He ordered. You threw your head back, ignoring the mud coating your hair as you came. Your legs trembled as you came around his fingers, the demon slowly slipping them out of you. He brought them to his mouth, examining them.

You watched as three black tongues came out of his mouth, licking his digits clean. “Such a delicious rabbit. Now turn over,” Jack ordered. He could hear your heart pounding at the sight of his tongues. Truthfully he enjoyed it. He enjoyed scaring you. But what he enjoyed more was corrupting you. Ignoring the slimy feeling of the mud covering your knees and elbows, you arched your back in front of him. Your core was still throbbing desperately. You had never had an orgasm like that, your previous experiences with men nothing like this.

Faintly you could hear the metal clinking of Jacks belt as he shoved his pants down, the rumbling thunder echoing through out the trees. Jack rubbed his tip up and down your slick, collecting your juices on his shaft. “Since you’ve been such a good rabbit i’ll go slow. Don’t wanna break my new pet,” Jack purred. You gasped as he began pushing himself inside of you. The head of his cock alone was enough to make you whimper. Jack grunted as he slowly pushed himself in. “Fucking hell. You’re not a virgin, are you? You sure feel like one,” Jack huffed. If it weren’t for the unreal pain you were feeling you would’ve been able to explain better.

But instead you said, “No i’m not, I just- haven’t had great experiences-”

You could barely form coherent words, your mouth running dry. His cock was bigger than you anticipated, your body tensing up out of fear. Jack could feel your tension. You were so tiny compared to him. He swallowed as he slithered one hand down to your clit, circling the bundle of nerves. “Thats right, relax for me,” Jack murmured. The extra stimulation made you slowly relax, Jack able to fully bottom out. Once fully inside he let out a satisfied groan, before licking his lips. The storm was seeming to die down, a light rain shower the only thing the sky had left to provide.

Jack began slowly pulling out, before pushing back into you. You mewled as he began to go faster, snapping his hips into yours. The pain was fading into pleasure, your body craving more. His name fell off of your lips like a mantra, mixed in with strings of curses. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Jack groaned. He continued to pound into you mercilessly, fucking you into the ground below. His mind became blank all of a sudden, the only thing he could think of being rather simple: breed.

“You like this, don’t you? Being a slut for me. Taking me like this,” Jack panted. He drew faster circles around your clit, continuing to abuse your g spot. “Yeah? Wanna be my personal cum slut forever? My personal rabbit to breed?” Jack rambled. When you failed to respond with anything other than cock drunk moans, a firm slap landed on your ass. The electric shock of pain went down your spine, the skin already turning red. “Yes, please,” You whined, unable to say anything further. He could feel you squeezing around him, your walls threatening that you were close.

“Awe rabbit, are you gonna cum already?” Jack taunted. He grabbed a handful of your wet and tangled hair, pulling you back to him. His soulless eye sockets peered down into your fucked out eyes. “Go on then, cum all over my cock so I can breed you,” He ordered. Your eyebrows briefly furrowed, the demons gaze refusing to stray. “Just know once I do, you’ll be mine forever. There’s no escaping me. If you’re willing to do that just for an orgasm, you really do deserve to be stuck with me,” Jack grunted, his hips never letting up for a minute.

His threats only made you squeeze him tighter, his name spilling from your lips as you came around his cock. You could feel your vision growing hazy, black dots appearing as you blinked slowly. Your body was spent, the numbing feeling of Jacks hips snapping into yours continuing. You felt yourself take one more deep breath, before falling into the pit of darkness that called your name.

\/

Your vision was blurry upon waking up, your body sore as you immediately went to move. Your legs ached, your breath shaky as memories of the night before ensued. As you scanned your surroundings you recognized the tent you had entered the night before. Were those actually memories? You jumped at the sound of the zipper unzipping, revealing one of your friends named Emma.

“You’re awake? You’ve been asleep all morning, you missed Alex’s attempt at fishing. Come get some brunch,” She said cheerfully. You gave her a weak smile, nodding and forcing yourself to sit up. You cringed at the tightness in your legs. The bag beside you was filled with your clothes, your hands beginning to rummage through them for an outfit. You must’ve dreamt Jack entirely. You did hike yesterday with your friends, that’s why your body was sore. Right?

Jack wasn’t real, he was a figment of your imagination that only existed in deepest depths of your mind. The void filled with a monstrous creature that could fill your filthy desires. You began changing, pulling down your panties. It was then your eyes narrowed at the slickness that had dripped into them. You felt your heart begin to pound as you examined your panties, which were full of Jacks cum that had leaked from your cunt. He was real. And you were his.

[kaivenom]

yandere kid pirates with a reader who has venom/symbiote? pretty please

Yandere!Kid Pirates with a venom!reader HCS

Warnings: a little gore (lets remember that venom eats people and this is yandere), maybe some hints that can be seen as sexual.

A/N: i did Heat, Wire, Killer and Eustass Kid all together. It can be viewed as platonic or romantic in reality. I hope i did it well and that you like it

Masterlist

They would try to feed you all the chocolate you want, but let's be real, no one in the crew knows how to take care of another living being.

You sometimes feel like some of the withered plants on the ship, but they try they best to stock the ship.

When you confess to them that you also may need to eat living beings heads and that chocolate sometimes wasn't enough, they all agreeded to give you the the food you needed.

This can go two ways depending on how apprehensive you are towards the thing about eating.

Option one: they could get on the ship with a sack full of heads and leave them to you to eat, all with a big smile on their faces cause they did something good for you and eased all the process.

Option two: they kill al the people and Killer starts doing "special chocolate smoothies" for you that have the brains inside. You start to feel less hungry and better, and they are all happy cause you don't really know what you are eating.

Heat is always asking you things about how you are feeling or if venom is talking, not that he really cares but because he feels like it is an experiment.

On the other hand, Eustass orders you to tell him what venom is saying when he is angry at you, you both had an argument or you seem off. He can be a little rude asking about it but he really cares about how Venom sees him (he doesn't want the symbionte making you change your opinion of him).

Wire keeps calling you to the nursery and checking you, sometimes it is a little awkard cause he looks at your body intensely.

They all hate when you transform and end up being the same size as them, they only tolerate this when you are all in battle or your life is on danger. Otherwise they gould get really mad. They like you smaller than them, they see it as a cute thing.

If you try to escape from them, they have an ultrasound system which makes you instantly week, and also makes venom separate from you... so it's not a good idea to run away.

That ultrasound system is also their speakers for music, so sometimes you have to ask them to please lower a little the heavy metal, which they do if you accept doing something for them.

They ocasionally try to see were your symbionte limits are, they can get a little extreme with their tests, especially Eustass and Wire.

Killer is the one who takes care of you the most, but he is also the one who cuts you when you do something wrong, cause in the end you heal really fast so instead of slaping your hand, he cuts your arm.

The rest of them assume that since you have venom, they can man handle you rough and brutally.

On the emotional aspect, they don't try that much but... when they see you really sad, anxious or some negative emotion on big proportions they try to console you. They aren't good, mostly cause they think that their big and masculine figures are enough to make you feel better.

The only thing you could get in those moments is a hug, but you had to come get it.

One final point is that Heat likes to mess with you by making blasts of fire, which makes you extremely scared and anxious, he just laughs and loves how you jump around trying to hide.

They all laugh (especially when you did something that accidentally make someone angry) but when it is too much to handle, they argue with Heat and stop him.

The bonus: is that you are emotionally vulnerable so you would be searching for support in the one who stopped the torture.

[merakiui]

I'm ready to get shamed to hell and back but

Sometimes I fantasize about Jade whisking me away from society and locking me in a fancy apartment

All alone when he's away at work but once he's home, he keeps me on a strict schedule and set of rules to make sure I'll be the perfect mother for his eel babies <3

When I don't behave tho, he'll do horrible things in front of me like killing and eating people or even worse, force feeding me some (💔 he's so mean) and after just brutally murdering off some random innocent person, he licks my tears away saying how much he wants to just eat me instead but he can't since I'll be carrying his child soon

That's it I'mma go hide in a hole now

– 🐶 Anon

The ideal life with Mr. Jade. ✨✨ there’s nothing to be ashamed of!!!

For the low price of your sanity and mental wellbeing, you get to live in a cozy, richly furnished home. You’ll be fed all kinds of delicious meals (and maybe sometimes they’ll have a little surprise mixed in that makes you dizzy or hot all over) and you’re looked after so sweetly. It’s almost like you’re a pet. Jade has so much fun taking care of you, ensuring you’ll be perfectly content and healthy for when it comes time to eat you. <3 he can’t let your meat get too tough with stress now, can he? :)

Two types of hunger with Jade Leech: the primal urge to feast on blood and gore versus the ravenous desire to eat you in other ways (knocking you up and greedily indulging in your heavy, milk-filled tits). He’s so terrible, though. Just as fondly as he’ll look after you, he’s very meticulous with his punishments. You’ll know you’ve done something to slight him because he can be so petty in his revenge. T_T sometimes even treating you like an actual pet. Making you eat off the floor,,, even going so far as to feed you canned dog/cat food. >_< evil creature…….. >:(

As long as you behave well, you won’t have to endure these kinds of things. Just be a good mama and focus on the babies. He’ll take care of the rest.

[batty4vamps]

For the promptlist, can I request 13 with Dwayne and either a fem or a gn reader?

13. "It'll be over soon, just close your eyes" with Dwayne

This one was challenging but fun! Trying to balance the boys being murderous vampires and devoted partners is always interesting lol. I hope it’s not too graphic, I tried to keep descriptions to a minimum just in case. Btw I love ur work!! 🖤

Includes: vampire feeding frenzy type gore/violence/murder, reader having a panic attack, fem reader

After letting you get used to being a half vampire for a while, Dwayne brings you hunting with him and the rest of the boys. You all agree that you’re ready to make your first kill. You are not.

You and the boys had been tracking a group of men all night since you’d caught them trying to corner a waitress at the bar. It was your first kill, and you’d needed to feel justified.

They were excited, even more than usual. You knew it was because they were proud of you, Dwayne especially. He’d been letting you take your time, but after the disastrous turning of Star and Micheal, you knew he’d been getting anxious. You wanted to be one of them, for him

The gang of assholes finally found a secluded spot on the beach, getting drunk by the light of the bonfire. As you perched at the top of a hill, staring down your prey, Dwayne gave your hand a squeeze.

He looked between you and the men, grinning.

“Ready?

You took a breath, trying to quell the anxiety swelling in your chest. What else was there left to do?

“Ready.”

With that, you descended on the group, letting the hunger take over. It was purely instinctual, clawing and biting and screaming. As the carnage begun, your pack mates began to have fun, and so did you. Your face was twisted into an animalistic grin, teeth sharpening into fangs. Feeding felt just like they’d said it would, and you drank with reckless abandon.

And then, suddenly, it all felt too real.

“No- please! She didn’t do anything wrong, just take me-“

A stifled yelp echoed as two throats were slit in harmony. One of them by your claw.

You hadn’t seen any women amongst the group, but maybe in your starved haze you’d missed something? What if it was the waitress? Had they taken her somehow? Maybe they deserved this, but she didn’t. She was like you.

You’d killed her.

You looked down at the body, nausea overtaking the urge to feed as you dropped it.

You weren’t ready. How could you be? They were people! Assholes, but people nonetheless, and you had to kill them to survive. You backed away, ducking behind the hillside.

Your breaths quickened as you felt the wet blood on your hands and mouth. The fire lit beach had become a blur of screams, laughter, and panic.

This was a mistake, all of this was a mistake. You weren’t cut out to be like Dwayne, and maybe you weren’t meant to be with him in the first place. Maybe you were too human. You weren’t ready.

That’s when you felt a hand on your cheek.

“Hey- what happened? Are you alright?”

You hadn’t even noticed he’d followed you.

He was still in a bit of a haze too. Bloody, but normal in the face at least. He’d slit the second throat with you in some sort of romantic vampiric climax. He didn’t realize how upset you were until you’d started hyperventilating. He got down to your level, kneeling on the sand.

“Hey? Talk to me, angel”

You were shaking in his grasp, letting out sobs as you struggled to breathe.

“I killed her- Dwayne, I just can’t- please don’t make me-“

A scream and loud crack echoed through the air, followed by laughter. You jolted, letting out a yelp as Dwayne pulled you into his arms.

“I thought I could, but I can’t, I’m sorry, not yet-“

Dwayne frowned, guilt seeping into him as his hand rubbed your back. This was normal to him. The blood, the brutality. He didn’t worry about who deserved it. He was the apex predator, and he needed to eat. He enjoyed his food. He’d made the mistake of expecting you to enjoy it right away too.

“Shhh- it’s alright, you don’t have to. Not tonight.”

Dwayne looked over your shoulder to the feast still taking place, watching David bite into the biggest guy. His mouth watered.

He knew you’d freak if you saw it. Sure, you were hungrier than him, but apparently more human as well.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You’d taken to everything else so easily, he’d really thought this wouldn’t be any different. It was your nature, just like it was his. As he glanced down and saw the panic in your eyes though, he knew he couldn’t make you accept it. He pulled you closer, holding your head to his chest.

“It’ll be over soon, just close your eyes”

You listened, trying to focus on Dwayne’s voice over the cackling of the others. At the very least, you were grateful he was there. He protected you, always.

You both knew the pack was getting impatient. They wanted you to be one of them, for real, and Dwayne was getting impatient too. He wanted you to be with him forever. He wanted to start your forever now. At the same time, he had the sense to know that tonight was not the time to push. He figured that everyone had rejected this part of the vampire nature at some point. More than anything, though, he knew if he wasn’t careful, you might reject him too. He couldn’t live with that.

So Dwayne would wait for you, and hope the guys could wait for him.

[cerastes]

Kinnikuman References In The Hundred Line (1/?)

I'm not anywhere near done with The Hundred Line, but so far, we've gotten some pretty good allusions to Kinnikuman, an extremely iconic shonen manga from 1979. While it didn't permeate deeply outside of Japan, in its home country it is a colossus of a franchise, fondly remembered by nerd and non-nerd alike, in a way Doraemon and Gundam are, and just like those two, you have doubtlessly come across many references to it that you didn't even know were references.

Mojiro Moko, the pro wrestler, brings with her presence a lot of allusions to Kinnikuman. Let's quickly go over the ones I've personally seen so far:

When Moko tells the story about how she saved her teammate, even if it was against the rules as a heel during a Tag Team Tournament, she's referencing Sunshine saving his partner Ashuraman from committing to a suicide attack that was going to kill both himself and one of the heroes, intending to turn it into a singles between Sunshine and Kinnikuman:

Sunshine and Ashuraman are Akuma Choujin (Devil Supermen), and they adhere to a strict code of Victory By Any Means, basically the dirty heels of the setting. Sunshine, however, treasures his friendship with Ashuraman so much that he broke this golden rule.

Despite his chastising words, it was clear Ashuraman, who has only been showcased as an extremely brutal, dangerous and effective foe so far, was inexplicably happy by this.

Moko stopping a bullet train to save a puppy.

Beat by beat what Terryman did, stop a bullet train to save a puppy. The context is that during the Choujin Olympics, one of the qualifier tests was the Bullet Train Exam, where Choujin had to shove a bullet train with all their strength and see how far it travelled through Japan, and you get disqualified if you touch the train as its moving. Terryman pushed it with immense force, but after a bit, for some reason, panicked and went after the train, overtook it, and then stopped it. It was because he saw it was going to kill this puppy. Terryman was disqualified from the Olympics for this but it showed what true heroism was about.

Moko's long lost brother got erased from history.

Again, beat by beat what happens to Kinniku Ataru, Kinniku Suguru's (AKA Kinnikuman) estranged, long lost brother. Ataru was helping Suguru from the shadows, but in one of the final fights of the original series, his page of the Choujin History, which is bound to the existence of Choujin, was burned during a deathmatch, which in turn erased him from existence. This was more than a mere deathmatch, as the pages of all fighters in that match were at stake, meaning that losing wasn't just death, it was to be wiped out of existence. Ataru got close, but he was defeated in the end, however, when it became clear to him he couldn't win, instead of surrendering, he fought until the end of his existence, literally, to uncover an important weakness of his opponent, which Suguru would later go on to exploit.

Kyoshika guessing if Moko had a move where she turned opponents to ramen and ate them in her heel era

Yet again, beat by beat what happened, but this time, an anime exclusive. Ramenman's first fight in the story is against Germany's Brockenman, who he soundly defeats and kills. In the manga, Ramenman uses his signature Camel Clutch submission hold to rip his entire upper body apart and glories in the gore, but this was deemed to violent for TV, so instead, they really doubled down on the Ramen part of the Man. In the anime, Ramenman breaks Brockenman's back with the Camel Clutch, killing him, but then he rolls his body with a rolling pin, seasons it, tenderizes it, and basically makes him into noodles, which he then eats. This is an iconic scene in Kinnikuman due to its raw ridiculous nature, where trying to censor a gory death resulted into something far more outlandishly brutal but also extremely comedic due to how silly it is, and it's often remembered far more than the manga's gory but not nearly as iconic ripping him in half.

That's all for now in my run, stay tuned for the next installment of Yes, This Is Something That Actually Happened.

[cantstops1mping]

Nightly Swim

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡

// 🖤🔪 - smut, mature //

2638 words

{ao3}

§getou x gojo x fem!reader§

[Dead dove do not eat, MDNI, non-con, major character death, female reader, bottom!reader, top!Gojo Satoru, top!Getou Suguru, kidnapping, p in v sex, oral m.reciveing, reader gets called bitch. slut. good girl. princcess. sweets, bondage, blood, gore, a lot of gore, piss, knife play, blood used as lube, no morals, necrophilla]

«As you’re walking home from a late night at the office something is after you, something is wanting you.»

Please understand that I hundred percent do NOT support rape! please forgive me…

It was midnight; you left work later than usual. You had to work extra hours today because your boss was a dick. He made you rewrite your news article more than 5 times! ‘Of course, everything needed to be to his liking’ you thought. You could hear nothing; no one was out, no one, but you. There was only dead silence in the city. Working your dead-end job with no pay, you had barely enough money to pay rent; let alone buy a car. So, you had to walk. While walking, you decided to read the news article for the week, made by your coworker. 

It was a shit idea.

All the articles were about missing people; people being killed and all by the same guy. “Horrifying” that’s all you could describe the article as. You imagined yourself being taken, being brutally killed- ‘no, no, no, no, I can't think like that; nothing’s going to happen’ you thought.

…

Step, step, step… 

You heard footsteps, not yours, but a second set. You quickly whipped around, seeing that there was no one there. You continued walking, thinking it was your imagination.

Step, step, step… 

Again, you heard the same footsteps. Your eyes widened; you were scared now; you whipped around again, but still, nothing, just the empty street.

Step, step, step… 

This time you knew someone was following you. You started running; running as fast as you could, wanting to feel safe from who was following you. You decided to hide in an alleyway hoping whoever was following you would walk past so you could be on your way home.

You walked backward into the alleyway just to be safe.

“Boo.” A calm gruff voice whispered from behind you. You felt him rapidly grab your hands and put them behind your back, tying them with rope, keeping them there. You felt him put his other arm around your waist to hold you against his body. You could feel all of his muscles; feeling his abs on your back; his muscular arms around you. he held you tightly so you wouldn’t be able to escape. You thrashed against his body hoping to escape but his grip just got tighter and tighter. You were horrified. You were about to scream, but he covered your mouth with his hand to muffle your screams. “No one's gonna be able to save you, princess, not even if you scream at the top of your lungs.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. He seemed to be waiting, waiting for someone, waiting so calmly while you were thrashing against his body and screaming into his hand with tears running down your face.

There was someone else who entered the alleyway; he was just as muscular as the first person. “So you finally decided to join us, huh?” the one holding you said. “Should've told me you got her,” the man before you replied. “Aw, the bunny is all trapped now, can't run anymore, can you?” he said in a mocking tone.

The man in front of you got something out of his pocket: a rag and a bottle of unfamiliar liquid. You started thrashing harder, trying to break free, trying to run. The man in front of you dumped most of the liquid on the rag while the man behind you tightened his grip. “Behave,” getting tired of your thrashing. The rag was smacked onto your face, and your muffled scream came to an end as you passed out.

…

“Cold…” You woke up, your body felt heavy. You looked around and saw your confines. Your naked body tied to the bed. You started your thrashing again, looking around for something to help you escape.

“Finally! You woke up!” One of them said.

Tears started streaming down your face. Remembering what happened in the alleyway, you were horrified at what they were going to do to you now. “Aw, don't cry, you're only gonna get me harder,” one said. 

“You're lucky we didn’t fuck you in your sleep,” the other said. 

“P-please l-let me go,” you hiccuped. “I-I won’t tell anyone, p-please let me go, I d-didn't even see your faces.” You were barely louder than a whisper.

One of them took off their masks. “Well, now you did, sweetheart,” the man had jet black hair pulled up into a bun. 

“No, please, I won't tell anyone, please, let me go,” you sobbed out. 

“You're really cute, ya know,” the other man said while taking off his mask. He had beautiful blue eyes and white hair, beautiful. No, you can't think that about your kidnappers.

“We don't wanna let go of such a cute and pretty thing now, do we, Getou?”

Getou was the name of the black-haired one. “We sure don't, Gojo,” Gojo was the name of the other one. “And now that you've seen our faces and know our names, we definitely can't let you go, sweets.”

“No, no, please, please, I swear I won't say anything, please let me go,” you wept. “I-I won't tell anyone, please let me go, please, I'm begging you, please.”

“Well, how do we know we can trust you?” Getou said. To that, you sobbed harder. 

“Aw, look at her face, so wet, just like her pussy,” Gojo said smugly. 

“You like this, don’t you? Like being kidnapped, like being splayed out naked for your kidnappers? Like thinking about how well we will rape you?” Getou said, 

“Well, it's not rape if she's that wet, right?” Gojo replied

They were both so smug; it made you want to puke.

You were doing your best trying not to make a peep with all the tears running down your face. It was impossible. You wanted to curse at them and try to get free, but you felt so vulnerable; so exposed that you couldn’t move a muscle. So, you laid there tied on the bed, naked and exposed. You didn’t want them to do anything to you. You were just hoping; pleading that they let you go even like this; even in all your naked glory. You just wanted to leave.

“F-fuck,” you moaned as Gojo shoved two fingers into you, rubbing your clit gently. “Fuck, she likes it, guess it's not rape then,” Getou smirked, watching.

“Stop, stop, get away from me, please,” you choked out, trying to stop yourself from moaning. 

“You're definitely a virgin, I mean, you're squeezing my fingers so tight and you can barely stop yourself from moaning.”

He pumped his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace. His thumb lightly rubbed over your clit. You could feel the shape of his hand in you. Long, rough, and thick. You absentmindedly pushed your hips towards his hand, needing more attention on your clit. He pushed your hips down then, you started to whine “Stop, please stop, I don’t like this, I don't want this, please”

You were close to cumming, but just when you were about to, he stopped all friction. You whined loudly. “Oh? I thought you didn't want this,” Getou said. 

He shoved two fingers back into your pussy. “Wow, she is tight,” he said to Gojo. “Think you can take three fingers, princess?”

You shook your head violently, but he still shoved another finger in, finger-fucking you with a rapid pace.

‘Why did it feel good?’ you questioned to yourself.

Gojo came around to the top of the bed where your head was; he had his cock out, big and beautiful, standing tall against his stomach. “Open,” he said. When you didn't, he smacked you hard right across your face. When you opened your mouth, he shoved his dick in and started fucking your mouth unbelievably fast.

Getou ripped his fingers from your entrance and got his gorgeous big mushroom-tipped dick out. He tried shoving it in, but you were still tight.

“Fuck, she's too tight, need some lube,” Getou looked around the room, finding a knife and- was that a person!? The guy was still breathing but was knocked out in the corner of the room, tied up. Getou went to him and slit a line on the guy's arm. The guy woke up screaming and starting to cry. 

“Shut up, will ya?” Getou said in annoyance before slowly cutting more places on his body - his thigh, his stomach, his face, his other arm, his dick, and balls, before stabbing him right in the stomach, then grabbing the dead guy by the hair and throwing him right next to you on the bed. You wanted to scream, but Gojo's big dick was choking the life out of you; you thrashed around, not wanting to be next to him, next to all the blood. Getou stabbed your thigh with the knife. 

“I'm getting tired of all the thrashing you do so be a good girl and stay still.” You bit down after feeling the sharp pain in your thigh. A yelp was heard from the man who had his cock buried in your throat. You quickly stopped biting after remembering who was down your throat and continued to weep. Gojo quickly pulled out of your mouth and groaned. 

“Fucking bitch, if you don’t know how to behave we will teach you, slut” he spat out still groaning in pain. Getou started laughing while the two of you were in pain, one more than the other. 

With tears streaming down your face Gojo pushes himself back into your mouth. Gojo smacked you in the face “This time you better not bite me” He growled in your ear as he shoved into you. 

Getou pooled some of the guy’s blood in his hand and started lubing you up with it. You couldn’t thrash around because of the knife in your thigh, but you could cry and weep, not as loudly with Gojo fucking your face as fast as he could. You felt disgusted to get someone else's blood used on you as lube, disgusting, nasty, you felt horrible.

Getou pushed into your lubed and bloodied hole as you cried. Surprisingly, he fucked you slow, not fast like Gojo. 

You tried to block out the sensations, the pain, and the violation of your body. You tried to think of anything else besides the two men using you for their own pleasure. But it was impossible; the sight of the dead man next to you, the feeling of blood on your skin, the pain of the knife in your thigh, and the overwhelming fear and shame consumed you.

You felt like you were drowning in a sea of darkness, unable to escape, unable to find a way out. The tears kept streaming down your face, mixing with the blood and the sweat. You felt dirty, tainted, and broken.

Getou's slow and deliberate movements only added to the agony. Every thrust felt like a knife twisting in your gut, every touch felt like a violation of your soul. You felt like a puppet being controlled by cruel and sadistic masters, forced to endure their twisted desires.

You wanted to scream, to beg for mercy, to plead for release. But all that came out were muffled sobs and choked whimpers. You felt powerless, helpless, and utterly defeated.

You were brought back from your thoughts as Gojo pumped his seed down your throat, slowly pulling out. “Swallow.” He commanded and you did, feeling all the fight leave your body accepting that they would use you and hopefully throw you out.

Getou soon followed suit, filling you with his seed before pulling out. You felt utterly exhausted, physically and emotionally drained. The pain, the shame, the violation - it all felt like a heavy weight on your chest, suffocating you.

“FUCK,” you yelped as they moved you around like a ragdoll. They were clearly unbothered by the knife in your thigh. 

“Oh my god can you shut the fuck up. You've been screaming since the moment you've got here; your gonna bust my fucking eardrums.” Getou sighed as he reached off to your thigh and grabbed the knife and started to twist it slowly.

“M’sorry, I'm sorry, please I'm so sorry!” You cried. Words spilling out of you like a mantra, begging him to stop. With that, he stopped. 

You look to where Gojo was. He seemed to be aiming his dick at your thigh. You immediately knew what he was planning on doing. You weren't able to move your thigh due to the pain so with a look of horror on your face, you started to beg. Random pleas for him not to do it escaped your throat.

Slowly golden liquid poured out of his cock and onto your wound, making you scream in pain. The burning sensation was overwhelming, the pain excruciating as the acidic urine seeped into the open wound on your thigh. You thrashed and screamed in agony, unable to comprehend the sheer cruelty and sadism of your captors.

Through tear-blurred vision, you saw the sadistic smirk on Gojo's face, the satisfaction in his eyes as he watched you suffer. It was clear that they took pleasure in your pain, in your helplessness.

The room felt suffocating, the air heavy with the stench of blood, sweat, and urine. You felt nauseous, on the verge of vomiting from the sheer trauma of it all.

The two men seemed to revel in your suffering, in the power they held over you. Their laughter, their taunts, only added to your despair, to your sense of utter hopelessness.

Then, Gojo swiftly pulled the knife from your wound and thrusted his cock into the wound on your thigh, causing you to scream out in agony. The pain was unbearable, the sensation of his dick moving in and out of the wound made you want to vomit. You couldn't believe the level of cruelty and sadism these men possessed.

“Ugh, we get it now shut up,” Getou says as he shoves himself into your mouth. 

You gagged and choked on his member, tears streaming down your face as you struggled to breathe. The pain and humiliation were overwhelming, the sense of violation and degradation suffocating you.

Gojo continued to thrust his cock into the wound on your thigh, each movement sending waves of agony through your body. You felt like you were being torn apart like your very soul was being ripped apart by their brutality.

The room spun and blurred around you, the sounds of their grunts and your cries echoing in your ears. You felt like you were drowning in a sea of pain and despair, unable to find a way out, unable to escape the horror of your reality.

You wanted to scream, to beg for mercy, to plead for release. But all that came out were choked sobs and desperate gasps for air. You felt like you were on the brink of madness, on the edge of oblivion, consumed by the darkness that surrounded you.

You felt everything in you die down. Slowly you closed your eyes. You went limp, you felt nothing, and the assault on your body was no longer being felt. You were no longer there. 

Both Gojo and Getou came into your unresponsive body. “Shit, we killed her” Gojo laughs. 

“I’ll get the trash back,” Getou groans.

…

“She was fun to play with, kinda wish she went on for longer though” Gojo smirks as he shoves your body into the trash bag.

“She was loud as fuck. I’m glad she died” Getou says as he rolls his eyes. He shoves your body into the back of his truck.

“Lake?” Getou questions.

“Yep,” Gojo says popping the ‘p’.

…

Getou gets out of the truck and grabs your bagged body. “Have fun on your nightly swim,” Getou says with a smirk, as he throws your limp body into the lake.

© cantstops1mping 2024; please do not copy, steal, repost, modify, translate, or recommend on any other platform without giving me credit or without my permission!

[fandomofhappiness]

Aizawa Shouta & Shinsou Hitoshi Father-Son Dynamic Big Recomendation Fic List for starters and not

Hi everyone! After quite a long time, I finally post my Recommendation Fic List (the crowning glory of my stay in the MHA fandom) of Aizawa and Shinsou Father-Son Dynamic.

I always start reading fanfiction before I even finished read the original, what does that says about me?

I became familiar with a fairly common theory that Shinsou Hitoshi is an orphan with a rather dread past, which, of course, activated a huge curiosity in me. I tried to analyze the trend, and I will say that it's quite clear: People were infected with the idea, where abused Hitoshi was somehow saved by Aizawa. And so was I. I've read for almost hundread of any combinations of this trend and NOW I finally ready to present my Fic List.

Attention. I will attach UNFINISHED fanfics, but which actively (or not so) updated, because they are masterpieces.

WARNING! I do not attach stories which contain:

ships (except Erasermic and 2-3 ShinKami but they are not MAIN)

alpha/beta/omega thing

too fluffy and too family-oriented fics (there will be ones, but I don't want to make them a centre of my list

I cut Rec List on different genre sections (read: dynamics) and add fanfics from the most angst ones to fluffy ones so you can easily pick what you like most ;)

So, let's start!

fandomofhappiness's personal top

You Want It Darker by Ms_Chunks Genres: Shinsou Has Family, Gore and Murder, Detective, Mentor and Parental Aizawa Status: FINISHED (533,808 words) foh's comment: Highly interesting! Shinsou here is not represented as perfect kid or downtrodden teenager, he is the way I liked him in anime and manga: he bites, hisses, snaps, makes sarcastic jokes and does not allow anyone hurt him. Aizawa and Shinsou very slowly gain trust from each other, but that makes their relationship seem sincere, and not caricatured. Read for the detective, the non-orthodox view of the Hitoshi family and Erasermic. READ THE TAGS and be aware!

Fundamental Theorem of Heroics by NightowlRobin Genres: Foster Kid Shinsou, Vigilante Shinsou, Heavy Angst, Parental Aizawa Status: UNFINISHED but updates weekly (more 700k words) foh's comment: Truly FUNDAMENTAL work of all Shinsou Hitoshi stories on ao3. I'd so like to confess my true respect and love to the NightowlRobin for their most mind-blowing plot and detailising. (You will probably meet Aizawa only after 10 chapters. And it will take even longer until Hitoshi and him properly meet.) This is an epochal work that will make you believe in Hitoshi's true character and make you cry of his story because it's really brutal. I think this is the favourite work of everyone who liked Shinsou with all their hearts.

To Turn A Man Into A Stone by tanli Genres: Foster Kid Shinsou, Angst, Mentor Aizawa Status: FINISHED (15,128 words) foh's: comment: Even months after I read this work, I look back on it and think: the author did an 11/10 job. Just so you understand: this is the best example of how I see the relationship between Aizawa and Shinsou. It is the apotheosis of sincerity and affection. It is a test of will, deep introspection and acceptance. It performed so well that it seemed to me that the author wrote a chapter for the manga. Damn, the author did a lot better than the mangaka. If the previous two works were not so high-quality and grandiose, I would've put this one at the very top of my list.

If Lies Had A Flavor by scooter3scooter Genres: Foster Kid Shinsou, Erasermic Adopt Shinsou, Heavy Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eating Disorders Status: FINISHED (10,003 words) foh's comment: Perhaps one of the many angst works written by scooter3scooter, which I have reread more than once or even twice. This work is special to me, because I have never seen such an interesting look at the consequences of Shinsou's stay in an orphanage. Complex and emotional work. It is truly an honour to get acquainted with such a vast problem of humanity as eating disorder through this fanfic.

crybaby by Brachydios Genres: Foster Kid Shinsou, Erasermic Help Shinsou, Heavy Angst & Eventual Comfort, Canon Divergence Status: FINISHED (51,219 words) foh's comment: I've read this work more times than I can remember. Brachydios came into my life with this incredible work and tore me apart from the inside. I believe in every detail they describe, every character move is justified. I want to sympathize with Shinsou over and over again. One of the best Quirk-Shenanigans trope that has brought 1017 people to tears - be the next one. The performance is 100 of 10.

How It Goes by Ibelieveinahappilyeverafter Genres: Foster Kid Shinsou, Erasermic Adopt Shinsou, Heavy Angst & Eventual Comfort Status: FINISHED (20,021 words) foh's comment: This is one of the best written Foster Kid Shinsou stories ever. Hitoshi's adaptation, his thoughts and feelings, his panic, his fear of going back to the orphanage are described in a deep sincere way here. It's a heartbreaking story about the fear of punishment, taking consenquences and family. It was very personal for me and I hope you get a lot emotions after reading it.

Faith by slightlycrunchy Genres: Mentor and Parental Aizawa, Anxious Shinsou, Hurt/Comfort, School Situation Status: FINISHED (2,651 words) foh's comment: This work is also quite personal choice of mine. I wouldn't say it's grandiose, but it's very emotional for me. For the kid who worries about grades all their life, who is afraid to make a mistake, who is afraid to lose everything because of one mistake and who doesn't know how to accept their failures. I ask you to read this if my words resonate in your soul. This is the truth that we all need to hear.

Absolute Tops

Point Blank by Cobbiest foh's rec: an interesting, intriguing and beautifully written Shinsou's journey to become a part of Erasermic Family (and hero)

Deathworlders to the extreme! by AquaStarDark foh's rec: that's the funniest, most captivating and rocking people-are-space-orcs thing that I've read, really worths reading

I Would Understand by deafmic foh's rec: that is the first things first to read if you're new here, but tnh I wasn't ready for this work and dropped it once or twice before I finally made it and read it, it's really really good, but I wouldn't recommended as first-to-read.

Back to the Nest by Mags_Pie foh's rec: such a sweet thing about children and their parents. I was smiling so much.

Everything is different (since you've been around) by Plasmapause foh's rec: and THIS is how I see the best written relationship between Shinsou & Aizawa AND Shinsou & Yamada, they're building trust and becoming family very slowly BUT you really believe in these life situations that happen to Hitoshi, it is very sincere and touchy work.

It's not always easy. by ethgri foh's rec: and THIS is the HEAVIEST work I've read and really recommend it. The emotions are real and naked, I practically felt the same pain. Please be ready for heart journey, this is a brutal masterpiece.

Herding Cats by Robbirdthe8th (FictionalFeather) foh's rec: the COOLEST detective wotk, have nothing to say - just read it.

Margay by Oceanbreeze7 foh's rec: one of best ever written Shinsou.

QueNouilleCroustillante (the author of AUs that you won't forget: you may know theirs Bright Stars, but I beg you to read all of their works)

deafmic (you guys do know deafmic, that's deafmic's section for Aizawa and Shinsou, it's all too fucking good)

Mentorship Dynamics

More than a cry by Assassin Bug

Stubborn choices by Madaver

Not In The Job Description by ididntneedanewfandom (prettyvk)

Voices by SquirrelWriter

mind break by baggytshirtsandtiredeyes

The Lilac Garden by Mars_is_Gone

the night was a gelid, bitter, and biting thing by sonrissa

Countdown by Mags_Pie

polished doubt, fake sentiment by s_beth

Consequences by 22FluffyTheSpider123

Legacy by the_crownless_queen

Aizawa's Warmth by LoveableMink

Hitoshi Shinsou's Not-So-Smart Training Method by maarvehl

Keep Him Safe by Mags_Pie

stealing is bad? by borlios

Learning Curve by Cyborg_Franky

Play Along by eillo

from one foot to the other by ohwickedsoul

Family Dynamics

So this section I prefer to divide in two subsections:

fanfics where Shinsou is heavely traumatised and learns how to handle it with Eraser(-mic) help (Section A)

fanfics where Shinsou traumatises world around him and still learns how to handle it (Section B)

P.S.: section B comes first, because I love how authors perform Shinsou. They captured his audacity, intelligence and rebelliousness, he's learning from his traumas but does it shitty, and that is really interesting.

Family Dynamics Section B:

When the Darkness Fades by BlueCats

Growing Up (is harder than it looks) by BlueCats

Concerning (Some-)Things by Tododorkey (ApolloBlackwood)

The Beginning of Always by meow_z_z_z

First Day of School by Jyxnie

Split Lip; Silver Tongue by CreamcheeseBagel

Unforgettable by deafmic

A Lesson in Vengeance by Smurfee

somewhere in my heart of hearts (i knew it all along) by bototyelenol

Call to Eraserhead by sukeruton

surviving on elevated cortisol and spilt coffee by Crykea

How to Win the Sports Festival: A Step by Step Guide by mhwright

Hitoshi Shinsou's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Days by Princeliest

Tight-Lipped Belief by Robbirdthe8th (FictionalFeather)

House of the Rising Sun by caprisunontherocks

Family Dynamics Section A:

Just A Phone Call Away by odymcbea

Twist My Words by CreamcheeseBagel

Take Care (of me) by scooter3scooter

it’s in the way he- by scooter3scooter

masterpiece of nature by Brachydios

spare the rod by Brachydios

Not Today (Tomorrow it May Change) by deafmic

You're an Alien? by Badum_tsh

Pardon My Presence by ShiDreamin

Everything Will Be A-Okay by nikouji

Lucky Cat by deafmic

The Misadventures of the Yamazawa Family by ComplicatedSquishy101

Home Alone by fecklessphilanderer

a voice your body jumps to callin' out your name by sparrowsAce, wander_wren

Last (First) Adventure by deafmic

You've Got A Heart As Loud As Lions by Robbirdthe8th (FictionalFeather) (warning! this work contains sexual abuse. I felt it was a difficult decision to include this here, as it is an incredibly complex topic and also incredibly important. This work is written with such respect and love, with such sensitivity, I cannot even begin to express it in words. Please, if this topic is disturbing and triggering to you, please be careful to read it.)

This concludes my top list. I finished reading about two months ago and plan to return soon and see what new and good is being written along this Father-Son trope. If you have any other cool works that are not presented here and you want to share them, send them into comments. I would be very glad! Thank you for attention!