#kittens with knives if you will

[yuyu-finale]

vashu’s pet kittens…nyai and nekolas

[nanomooselet]

Episode Nine: Millions Knives

Knives is firmly among my favourite characters. Adore him, fascinated by him, need to hit him over the head with a baseball bat.

The thing about Knives is that he lies constantly. I think he's so used to lying that he's come to believe himself truthful and sincere. To be fair to him, his emotions are very sincerely felt - I think they rattle his teeth, actually - but I don't think he understands them, even in hindsight. I don't think he understands the emotions or responses of others, either. They make no intuitive sense to him. So he rationalises reactions he doesn't expect as weakness, error or corruption to avoid admitting to himself where the problem might lie, and considers them only on those terms. Which must be terribly, terribly isolating, and it means he also lies to himself.

I suppose it's not a secret that I see a lot of myself in Vash - the guilt, the distance, the way he exaggerates his reactions around others - but there's a little bit of Knives there too. Enough that I feel sympathy. But I also recognise parts of him that aren't in me at all; they were a sickness I didn't realise I had, or the voices of people I wish had known better.

So my feelings about him are complicated, to put it mildly. I remember after watching the finale I had simultaneous urges to wrap him in a blanket and beat him to death with a tire iron, and that hasn't really changed. It's a difficult state of mind.

He's a great character.

Such a sweet, sad scene from a character we saw being so vicious. The notes begin slow, faltering - loneliness, hesitation. Perhaps even regret? And then Vash enters in his memory and adds his voice, and while it's still a little awkward, the notes themselves seem to smile along with him. Knives has learned over time to play the song himself, but it's still incomplete without Vash. The room is ridiculously huge, which makes Knives in the centre even tinier and lonelier than he'd otherwise be; the distance of the long-shot also conceals that he sits just a little further to the right than he needs to, so the realisation is slow. There's a lot of empty space. It looks like the room is unfurnished besides the piano and bench, with some random debris scattered around. How long has he been staying here? How long has he sat on that bench, trying to fill all that emptiness? Around him, beneath him, humans do human things and he is indifferent. He permits it only because soon none of it will matter.

I have to wonder what it is that Conrad got for Knives that made Knives look so pleased. Can't help but consider it ominous.

Also, Luida wasn't the only member of the SEEDs crew to pass on a haircut.

They have very similar clothes, too. That must have been an interesting shopping trip.

I spent literal hours combing through all my references trying to figure out if that was SEEDs Ship Five the city was built in, and I don't think so - Ship Five had human passengers and July was built in a Plant carrier. (So much for "I made sure the Plant ships would survive.") So at least we're spared the twist of the knife (sigh) it would have been to know somewhere in among all these withered Plants might be the twins' birth mother or the one who greeted them with Rem - but Jesus V. Saverem Christ, that doesn't make it better.

Knives, y'know - I do get why you killed those men. I really do. Humans are not innocent of this horror. Humans are not angels. Humans are survivors. We're also unfortunately greedy, short-sighted and brutally indifferent to those we don't perceive as part of the ingroup, especially when desperate. Even if you're willing to overlook this callous, casual abuse of living beings - and I wouldn't be - this is a recklessly unsustainable approach. Almost like a decision one might make in panic out of misfiring instinctive urge to seek safety? Not that I'm implying anything about your decisions.

And so when he sees Vash Knives immediately blames all of humanity when Knives bears at least a portion of the blame himself. There would always be casualties in such wide-scale destruction, even among those he intended to spare. Nor did he seem to do anything to protect the Plants aboard the crashed ship (likely because it would require relying on more humans), though it's obvious they would be vulnerable. But there's no way he can take responsibility for the deaths of his own kind on top of everything else he's done... though truly we're also our own worst advocates.

I'm sure they were happy to be useful.

Maybe Knives should have thanked the technician who said that to him before his death, because what he said made Knives so very angry. Anger, for Knives, is strength, and strength is certainty. A frightened little boy is sorry that he killed his mother and drove his brother away. A frightened little boy couldn't do this. Vash is frightened, of course. Clinging to Rem's skirts, a coward still, years later. Totally lacking conviction. But Knives thought of this. He knows how to work with that too.

Interesting that when Vash felt unworthy of the people of Home, he took off the coat they gave him to give it back. Knives, though, he snatches the gift he gave Vash straight out of his hands. If he's learned to play a duet alone he doesn't need Vash to do this either. He doesn't need Vash. It'd just be nice! You know. Not to have to rely on himself all the time!

His stupid little face and its utter bafflement. Where is this coming from? Vash isn't like this! I don’t remember it being like this! What could possibly have changed?

Knives intended to keep his calm throughout this confrontation. You can watch him visibly gather himself when he notices Vash enter; take a deep breath, push his hood back - it's why he went from kneeling to standing. It's like he can't be vulnerable, or even ask for comfort, but I swear if he'd just asked Vash for a hug instead of stabbing people the series would have ended there. Instead he tips further and further over the edge, refusing to reach out for help on terms other than the ones in his head, which he refuses to explain. And the moment a variable he can't control enters the situation, his first and only reaction is to violently remove it.

(Poor Luida must have no idea what the hell is going on. Although I bet this reunion explained a lot with hindsight.)

Why do you point that gun at me? Even though I saved you?

That's really the question Knives needs to consider the answer to himself, and he's not going to. Instead he imposes a time limit (and I'm starting to think when it ran out, that was when the Eye of Michael got into gear, so it's been around for approx. forty-five years) and runs off to cry in his piano room as though Vash is the one who needs a time-out.

Well.

He does, at that.

There's so much hope in what follows. Compared to Knives's vast hollow space, Vash's little room is so full of warmth and acceptance. He has people who love him and even a solution to the ongoing crisis, albeit an imperfect one - but he has something, he's not just flailing around until the day he catches one too many bullets. He has a goal in healing the Plants and helping people, and he has people who support him in it. And sure, he faces scepticism. Not to mention the parameters he's put on himself (I'll never kill, ever again... I'll figure out a way to save everyone. The humans, Plants... and Nai) which are Dark Souls times Atlus superboss impossible. But even Brad, who once called him a monster, thinks he's in with a chance.

I truly wish I found that more comforting than I did.

[swampvoid]

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[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Needed The Break

Summary- 1.9k Ransom x Kitten. Ransom has been hard at work on another manuscript and you are so proud of him. But all work and no play is not good for Ransom and you are sure to distract him occasionally for a small stress reliever.

Warnings- Cock gagging and cum painting. This is an 18+ Only Blog.

A/N- another failed kinktober fic. But hey, I had it and wanted to share something today. Apparently, all I can write for these two is them having a good time now that the drama is over. Thank you for reading, commenting and sharing.

Precarious Agreements Masterlist

You slipped the last strap in place and twirled in your closet mirror, inspecting yourself to make sure you were ready to surprise Ransom. The lace pressed into you like it was drawn on you, the cups of your bra pushing your breasts nice and full and your panties leaving nothing to the imagination as they shaped around you. A twirl had you smoothing your hands against your ass, arching to your toes to give a more shapely look. “Heels.” You said to yourself before going deeper into your closet and picking a nice stiletto heel with the straps tying along your calves adding to the look. When you were finally satisfied with your outfit, you went back to your vanity and perched on your plush velvet stool to sort through your makeup. A satisfied ‘Aha’ fell from you when you picked up the tube of classic red lipstick, making sure to add Ransom’s favorite with gentle sweeps along your bottom and upper lip, making them look voluptuous, sure to drive him crazy. 

Just like you planned. 

Ransom had locked himself in the office, working on his next novel in the time off Harlan insisted he took from Blood Like Wine, which made his uncle beyond furious having the extra responsibilities he was used to Ransom taking on. You were so proud of him, trying your best to leave him alone most of the time while he was in this creative state of mind. 

But once in a while, he needed to take a break, and this is what your lingerie was supposed to accomplish. 

You listened at the door, hearing the click of his keyboard and the occasional scratch of pen on paper as he jotted down notes. You almost pulled back to leave him alone, knowing how hard he was working on this. 

But Ransom needed a break, he had been at it for over a week. It couldn’t be good for him, you convinced yourself. Perhaps some of this get-up was for you too, after all, you missed being ruined by Ransom and it had been a few days since he has done just that.

 A soft knock had you swinging the door open and stepping into sight. At first, he didn’t say anything, seemingly not noticing all the effort you put into your outfit. “Did you need something Kitten? I promise I’m almost done.” He asked absently while still studying the screen of his laptop. 

“Ran” You let the door click back to a shut before you said his name in that soft sweet tone that made his eyes glance up, seeming to take you in and widen at you.

“Fuck Kitten, now I need something.” You watched perfect white teeth nip at his plush lower lip, eyes simmering heatedly as he took you in slowly, obviously looking you up and down slowly. His hands hovered over his keyboard, forgetting whatever piece he was working on. 

You grin wickedly as you took in his response, approaching his large mahogany desk that you have been bent over many times and leaning over it to snap his laptop to shut. “Do you Ransom, need something?” Your eyes fell suggestively down to the firm bulge in the front of his overpriced slacks. 

“I need you to get the fuck over here is what I need Kitten.” His feet pressed against the lush carpet under his desk and wheeled his chair back with a pat to his thighs. You took a chance, brushing everything aside on his desk, sure to be careful with his laptop while you lifted yourself to kitten crawl across it. 

His expression darkened with interest, your hand reaching out to grab at his sweater and wheel him back close to reach his mouth. 

A lap of your tongue against the seam of his mouth was just what you needed to feel him cup your face, moving to a stand while his lips pressed to yours with a hungry hiss when you pulled back for air. “Lay across the desk Kitten, on your back.” 

Just the stress reliever you were hoping for from him, so you didn't even tease him about being so demanding. Rolling onto your hip, you stretched out to lay flat, your head tilted over the edge of the desk. From this angle, Ransom just looked bigger. Looming over you as he ran his hands along your arms to grasp your wrists gently but with expectations for you to let him lead you. “You are my good girl tonight, right Kitten? Gonna let me use you? Record you?” 

Your fingers reached the front of his pants when he placed your hands at the zip. Your tongue darted to moisten your lips in anticipation. From this angle you could see the thick bulge of his cock, your fingers tracing him with a slight squeeze around him. “Record me Ransom, fuck my throat like your cock slut that I am.” You dragged the zipper down as he reached into his pocket to grab his cell phone. 

He was already throbbing as you eased him free, your hands grasping around his swollen cock as your tongue ached to taste those pearly droplets already leaking out from him. Red swollen tip trailed over your lips, smearing himself there while above you you heard the click of his phone snapping pictures. 

If this had been anyone else, you never would have allowed there to be pictures or a recording, but for Ransom, you grew depraved in the pictures, letting him smear his arousal over you before your lips caught him, sucking on him, his musky essence was salty on your tongue, making you greedy for him. 

Hairy thighs near your head grew taunt, your hands wrapping around them to feed him further into your mouth. “Shit-” He sputtered, fumbling with his phone till he had it recording, allowing him to have one free hand. Ransom cupped your face and let it slide down your throat, squeezing just enough to make you moan around him. Your head tilted just so he could feed his cock in further, screwing your eyes shut as you moaned at the way your jaw stretched around him, the taste coating your mouth and ready to swallow down when he came. “How are you this fucking perfect?” 

He mutters while his hand running down the center of your chest and rubbing at your tit. You felt him start to rock his hips, your lips sliding over his velvet hard length, tongue tracing along that nice thick vein that drove you crazy. You should feel depraved, the way you longed to suck on Ransom’s cock, how it made your pussy wet with just the taste of him on your tongue and how you were probably going to weep arousal all over the shiny polished wood on his desk.  

You couldn’t answer him with some cheeky response, but you moaned and hummed on him, tilting your head further as his cock hit the back of your mouth and gagged slightly, his hand squeezed at your nipples through the lace covering you. 

Your back arched at the sensation of him teasing you, a hand pushing under the bra and pulling you out, twisting your nipple and pulling them. It made heat race through you, sensitive to his touch. “Breathe Kitten.” He encouraged as his hips moved faster, his cock pressing into your throat and making you gag around him. “Fuck taking me so well. You always had to most perfect mouth for fucking kitten.” There were a few clicks from his phone, more pictures for Ransom. 

You gagged and sputtered enthusiastically while your face was being slammed by Ransom's balls till you reached to roll them in your palm. Hearing him grunt above you at the sensation of you rolling and tugging his balls carefully, making sure to move with him. 

He haunched over you while still fucking into your throat, grunts and groans dropping from him freely while your muffled gags got lost with his cock shoved in your mouth and his pelvis pressing into your face. 

“Most perfect fucking tits Kitten. Mark them as mine.” Yet with all that, he bit and kissed on your tits, one hanging free where he tugged it loose, molding it into his hand to bite and suck on you till you were wriggling your hips in place and leveraging your back to give him more. 

While beneath him, your lipstick smudged all over his cock, your mascara ran from the tears leaking and your face was getting drenched with your drool leaking from your lips with every jarring thrust he gave. 

You never felt more special than these moments when Ransom just used you, however he wanted to. “Swallowing me down, you want it right? God, I’m gonna just fuck it all into your belly, you lapping it up like a kitten with cream.” 

There was a clatter on the mahagoney, seeming that he was done recording as he pulled up, his hands now both free to wrap one around your chin and the other on your throat to feel it swell from his cock. His hips started to snap faster, unhinged. “My big fat cock is getting squeezed. Almost good as your weeping cunt . Nothing is quite good as that pussy though, is it?” You moaned again, your chest heaving with needing air as he shoved his cock down your throat, cutting you off. Your face buried in his balls now, your hands grabbing at his wrists to hold on. 

He had to be close, you felt like he was. Ransom’s cock jerked the little he was able to in you and you gave a moaning sound that made him tilt his head back, shaking as a flush of red raced up his chest and his twitching cock started spurting cum, making him yell out in satisfaction. 

Forcing you to swallow most of it till he backed up enough to spring him from your mouth, his hand covering his spit soaked cock and jerked it over your face, landing droplets over your face and across your chest till you were smeared in him. 

You expected him to go for his camera, but instead he fell into his chair right behind him and pulled back in close, cradling your head so it wouldnt cramp. His thumb swept over a cum covered cheek, smirking down at you. “You are filthy Kitten.” 

You moved to roll to your belly and lift yourself up. Ransom helped you off the desk while you went to straddle him, your clothed soaked cunt was pressed against his limp dick he had yet to tuck away. You swiped a finger across your chest and sucked on it with a purr. “Thought you were feeding me my cream Ransom.” You smirked and he grabbed at the back of your head, forcing your mouth to connect to his, his growl pressing through his chest as you bit on his bottom lip, sucking on it before he let you pull away.

“And you took it so fucking well Kitten.” 

You giggled, pushing your fingers through his hair and pressing your forehead to his to keep your eyes locked. “You dropped your phone so you didn’t get the finale Ransom.” You pouted a bit, wanting to watch the show later, in bed, after cleaning yourself in the shower. 

“Who says I don’t have the finale Kitten?” He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you back in closer to the desk to reach his laptop. Pulling it open, he slid the mouse around while you twisted slightly, watching what he was doing. 

Ransom pulled up a program that showed a clear image of you sitting right now in his lap, looking over your shoulder at the computer screen. “I forgot all about those cameras.” 

“I have all our videos whenever you want to see them.” He winked at you before snapping the lap top closed once more.

[corset]

I think if you just gave Knives a very nice plush toy and something to focus on that enriches his sensitive soul or whatever he’d be fine

[crimson-nail]

THOUGHTS ABOUT KNIVES LIVIO RAZLO?

livio is a dog person and razlo is a Big dog person and knives is a cat person except their pet cat loves LR more and their pet dog loves knives more so they can never win

[bi-writes]

what you want you cannot find. so you let someone else find it for you. (18+, dark!simon x curvy!fem!reader, arranged marriage)

you don't really know what you were thinking when you answered the ad. it is many things, maybe, why you chose to apply. why you were grateful to be chosen.

the loneliness, it aches. you cannot find yourself in anyone else, you cannot find the thing that should move you and hold you. you cannot find what it is that should ignite what is asleep, the thing nestled between your ribs that feels like it beats to a rhythm that you cannot hear.

the bitterness, too. there is something sour that you taste. there is acid under your tongue, something rotten between your teeth, and you wish for anything that you would stop tasting it because it reminds you of how alone you are, how alone you'll remain, the inevitable thing that you wish you weren't but that you unfortunately are.

it is the thing you cannot die for because there isn't anything to die for. you live, and you breathe, and you exist, but there isn't anything there. this is nothing that makes you want to gnaw on your own flesh, there is no life you would take in sake of another, there is no purpose to your existence except the hope that perhaps there is still time to have what you want more than anything.

but you don't know what you want. you don't know because everything that you thought you wanted, you do not want any longer. you never feel anything with other men. they are beneath you. they maim what they shouldn't. they complain about things that they can fix. they stare at a problem head-on, with the solution at their back, and they chase their tails. they do not know their right from their left. you hate them. but you want it. you want something. you want one of them, but you don't know which, so maybe if you don't choose, you will find what it is that you don't know you're looking for.

you're alone in the room. they gave you a bouquet of white roses. you hold them nervously between clammy palms. you wear a silk white dress that skims the floor, fabric falling soft over the curve of your waist and gentle along the swell of your cleavage. your hair is loose, and there is a short veil over your head, covering your face.

you stare at your handler. he's dressed in his military fatigues, tactical vest still strapped with the Union Jack across his chest. he has introduced himself as captain john price, and he is the one who arranged for your arrival. he is the one who told you to wear white, and he is the one who gave you the roses.

captain john price is rugged. captain john price is kind. and captain john price is not what you want. you are grateful that you are not yet disappointed with your match.

the door opens behind you. you straighten your posture that extra inch when you hear his heavy gait. there is a pause as the door shuts behind him, and you see his captain nod to a figure that you cannot see. his boots hit the floor low, and you swallow when the sunlight that comes through the window is blocked entirely by the size of him as he stands at your side.

the vows are short. you say your i do first, soft voice that hits his ears in a way that makes him nearly purr. when it is his turn to say i do, your eyes sparkle. he speaks in such a low voice, a Manchester accent that makes your toes curl in the white kitten heels that you wear. a drawl that you can feel in your chest, an accent that ticks a corner of your brain you did not know was there.

"you may kiss your bride."

you turn away from the captain. you tilt your head to look up at him, and you let out a soft breath when you realize the sheer breadth of this man.

he is barely a man. he must be something else. he is dressed all in black, and he wears all of his gear. his tactical vest is stocked well, magazines tucked into their pockets, a grenade dangling from one strap, a handgun tucked into its holster on his chest and around his thick thigh. his belt is heavy with more, knives in sheathes, devices in their places. even without all of the weight, you know the size of him won't shrink.

you cannot see his face. he covers it with a mask, one that resembles the front face of a skull. it is dirty. you aren't certain if it is blood or soot or dirt. maybe it is all of that and more. you cannot see his eyes through the veil either, but they are dark, and they are intense.

you keep your eyes fixed on his as he lifts your veil. the delicate fabric settles over your head, and you see him without obstruction.

there he is.

it is like seeing a man for the first time. it is like being in the presence of the dream you've always had and could never remember.

he tilts his head to the side, curious. he is seeing your face for the first time, too. soft eyes. glossy lips. the curve of your mouth. the untouched skin of your cheeks, the unmarred flesh that you wear. he follows the line of your throat to the peek of your tits dressed in silk. you are a present wrapped in luxury. hand delivered goods, of the finest quality.

his bride. his wife. something he will have forever. he does not know if he has ever been able to say that about anything else. he's never had anything except for his life. nothing except for himself has ever belonged to him, but even now, not even his life is his own, it belongs to someone far away, someone in an office somewhere, who moves the chess pieces of his world around, where he cannot do anything but follow.

you stand on your toes to get closer to him. he thinks for just a second you will ask him to remove his mask, but you don't. you cant your head, and you kiss him over the mask, sticky gloss leaving a light imprint on the fabric. you settle back onto your heels, and your breath hitches when one of his gloved hands comes to settle at the dip of your waist.

"she's all mine now, eh, cap'n?"

you blink, your eyes still on his. you don't move, and you don't say anything. you wonder, if you could see his face, if he would smile.

"all yours, simon."

you let him drag you closer, shuffling on your feet until your hips press against his. your back arches gently as he uses both hands, gripping you around the middle and feeling the soft flesh underneath your silk dress. he is a rabid dog, his next meal at his fingertips. she is his, and he wants to take her home. if his captain was not standing at his back, he knows he would take you on this very floor.

she is mine. she is mine. she is mine.

he has studied your picture. he has memorized your name. he has been waiting for you. he is too awkward to leave base. he is too quiet to attract birds, birds that matter, birds that sing. he is too ravenous to be anything but permanent, he isn't capable of the mundane, of casual. it is everything or nothing at all, and at the sound of permanence, he foamed at the mouth.

at the thought of something to keep, he was blinded. when beasts lose control, they call their keeper, and he had none. this change could be good. this change would do him well. when he ignores the order of a commanding officer, he will bend to yours, because he is bound, wrapped, tied to you with something invisible that weaves between his bones.

you do not know what you were before, but you know what you are now.

you follow after him. he turns to leave, and you let him lead. your heels click as you walk, and when it is hard for you to keep up, you reach for his hand. he grunts when you do, but he doesn't push you away. you hold wilting roses in one hand, and you clutch him in the other. recruits and privates stop to salute or step out of your way, and they stare when they see a trailing angel behind their lieutenant, a pretty girl in a pretty white dress with a veil fluttering against the breeze as you try and keep up with your husband's long strides.

the door he stops in front of is plain and unmarked. he fits a key into the lock, turning it and opening it, and he invites you over a threshold that no one else has ever stepped over. you stand on the other side, holding the roses to your chest. he turns when you don't follow him inside. you get a glimpse of him as a whole, the man that he is, big and menacing and taken. you wonder if he will wear his ring under his glove or if he will put it on the chain that holds his dog tags.

"is this where you live?" you ask. you stay on the other side, looking in, a little timid as you stand there.

he nods, silent. he crosses his arms over his chest, and you admire the bulge of them, the paint of skeleton bones along the fingers of his gloves. you look him up and down before smiling a little.

"is this where i will live, too?"

he shakes his head, a no.

"can't have a thing like y'here," he murmurs. "boys'll eat y'up."

you tilt your head to the side.

"i find that hard to believe," you quip. "do people often eat what's yours, lieutenant?"

he snarls, narrowing his eyes. "no one takes wot's mine."

"then what are you so afraid of?"

"that 'f y'r 'ere, i won't get any fuckin' work done."

you break out into a big smile, pearly white teeth flashing, and he clicks his tongue at your reaction. he reaches up and lifts his mask, pushing it up until it rests over his nose. his nose is crooked from being broken so many times. his face is scarred, as if someone took a blade and carved out the skin and muscle. a deep one stretches from somewhere under the mask to his lip, where it looks as if the skin was haphazardly stitched back together. another long jagged grey streak comes over the line of his cheek down his jaw, as if someone tried to peel his face off.

he grins. it's ugly and unsettling, as if he sees prey that he knows he will catch. your own smile does not fade. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you want to taste him. beast, bear, killing machine, the boogeyman, a ghost that haunts, you do not know exactly what he is, but you know, immediately, that he is what you have been searching for.

you do not know him. you do not love him yet, but you will. you are sure of this. you are sure that he is missing piece. he will fill the spaces that you have always felt hollow. he will scratch a place in your head that has always itched. there is something in his eyes, you're not exactly sure what it is, but you can't wait to discover it. you can't wait to explore, to indulge, to lick the salt of his skin and know that everything he is has been waiting for something like you.

you did not choose him, but he chose you, and now you see it clearly. you see this thing, and you know the truth of what's been hiding from you all your life. the curtain has been taken down. the veil is off. the walls are invisible.

"come 'ere," he says lowly. "won't ask so nicely next time."

you drop the flowers onto the floor, crossing the doorway. you kick the door shut, hearing it click, and he comes closer, until you can feel his breath fanning your nose.

"will you love me?" you ask, wringing your hands together nervously. "do you think maybe...do you think maybe that's possible?"

he licks over his teeth, humming. he leans down, knocking your chin up, and your breath hitches when he licks up the side of your jaw, taking in a whiff of your perfume and the sweetness of his bride.

"what a stupid word," he mutters, biting at the curve of your bottom lip. "meaningless. love. bloody hell."

"w-what...what?"

"a meaningless fuckin' word for the things i would do for ya," he continues. "the things i would kill. the heads i would step on. the sorry fucks i would get rid of...just to see y'smile."

your eyes flutter. yes, yes, yes--the unconditional devotion. the terrifyingly beautiful reality of through sickness and in health, until death do us part.

"is it really that easy, simon?" you ask. his gloved hands slip over your throat, sliding low and skimming the silk of your dress before he cups both sides of your ass and squeezes, drawing you closer until you are uncomfortably pressed up against him. his gear digs into your softness, sharp edges cutting into you, but you ignore it as he begins to draw up the skirt of your dress. "is it really that easy to say you'll do all of that for me? isn't it...it's wrong, isn't it? to do those things for me?"

he laughs. humorless, condescending. as if that is the stupidest thing you could have ever said.

"'s olright, swee'eart. gonna take all those ideas outta y'r pretty lil' head."

you relax when you feel his gloved hand under the hem of your white lace panties. your eyes shut, and you reach forward and grip his vest for stability.

"christ..." he hisses. "y'r soaked..."

you are. you have been since you first laid eyes on him, on everything he is. you know why you are here, and he knows why he is here, and that is because there were two people so desperate to find one another, that they let someone else choose. the gods, fate, whatever they want to be called.

matched by design, together by choice.

you lean forward and kiss beside his lips, and you whine when his big fingers slide between your folds, soft on your clit before he fits two fingers inside of you. his gloves are warm, and you wet them easily.

"wot a good girl," he breathes. "knew y'were the right one."

"y-you did?"

"could see it in y'r eyes, dove. could see wot y'needed. could see it plain as fuckin' day. dyin' inside, just like me, aye?"

you shake your head.

"n-not anymore...not anymore..." you gasp, and he tsks as he steps backward, the weight of him heavy as he takes a seat on his perfectly made bed, bringing you with him. you fall into his lap, unafraid to because you know someone of his size can carry you easily, and he hums as you spread your thighs apart. you straddle him, pressed up against the gun holstered to his chest, and you moan softly against his scarred face as he fucks you open with three unforgiving fingers.

"not anymore," he echos, baring his teeth as he pumps his hand. the squelch of it is filthy, but it isn't enough. he wants you to soak his arm, his thighs, his bed, let the slick of you stain him from the outside in. "not anymore. not as my wife."

you scramble. you rip the veil out of your hair, untie the corset of your dress. there's a naked angel in his lap, perky tits and soft figure, giving way to the gorgeous place you keep hidden by white, wet lace. the place that is his, the place that belongs to him, a pretty pussy that will keep him satiated until he breathes no longer.

after he tears apart his enemy, he will have you. after he tastes the blood he desires to see run, he will have you. the adrenaline, the fire, the shout of every order and the sound of their cries, it won't exist anymore in this place, he knows it.

"y'll never want for anythin'," he mutters. "y'll never be lonely. always get wot y'want...wot y'need...wot y'deserve..."

you reach up and cup his cheeks gently, pressing your mouth to his as you ride his fingers eagerly. you want him, you want this, you want all of it, even if it isn't what's right. but something brought you here, right into his arms, and this is what you deserve.

he's not even human, you don't think. he must be something else. with how good he makes you feel, with the sheer precision that he rocks his fingers into you, the way he smiles, he must be made of only something synthetic, something not organic.

you feel so small underneath him. he tosses you onto the bed, your head hitting the pillow gently. you giggle, and his grin widens. he has a warm pink tongue, and it's between his teeth, and you giggle again when he moves his head from side to side, staring down at you. he's studying you. you assume he has seen photos of you, but this is his first time seeing his bride for all that she is. soft, pretty, unscathed by war. at least on the outside--but on the inside, you are not as you seem.

there's a parasite in you. something that slithers behind your eyes and settles in that corner of your brain that only he can touch. he knows that feeling well. he feels it every time he is in the field, and he feels it now, with you. he chases this tick when he works. it knocks his senses just right, makes him feel good and big, like the reaper that he really is. he can be this with a rifle in his hand, and he can be this without it, with the weight of his wife in his hands.

you smile, biting your lip, and you spread your legs for him. his eyes fall between your thighs, and he chuckles. he brings his gloved hand up to his mouth, the one that smells like you, and you watch as he slips it inside, sucking on it for a moment before he uses his teeth to take both gloves off.

he bends, still in all his military glory, and he sticks his tongue out, licking a fat stripe up the seam of your cunt, using one thumb to pull the puffy lip apart and suckle on your clit for just a moment.

you gasp, arching your back, and he stands to his full height again, laughing.

"oh, y'taste sweet," he purrs. "y'taste good. hard t'believe i'll have this cunny for m'whole fuckin' life."

"believe it, baby," you coo, and he sighs. he nods his head, reaching low, gripping himself through his cargo pants and squeezing his cock. you follow his movements, watching him pay special attention to the tip of him, running his finger over where you guess the slit is as he watches you squirm. "why are you so far away, simon? don't you want me?"

he laughs again, smiling wide, and he nods.

"course i want ya, swee'eart. who wouldn't want ya, huh? who wouldn't want this?"

you meet his eyes. the question is a sound one, but it never mattered that you were wanted, what mattered is that you never wanted. not really. not until now.

you watch him as he reaches for his zipper. he undoes it easily, unbuttoning his pants and shoving them low. they won't go very low, thanks to the holsters around his thighs, but it's enough that you watch his cock stand at attention, the red tip of him leaking down the sides, making the bulging vein on the underside of him shine.

you whine a little, and he growls happily, watching as you cup the swell of your tits and squeeze them in anticipation. perfect, perfect, perfect girl, practically a mail-order bride that checks every single fucking box.

he grips you by the thighs, yanking you to the edge of the bed. you whimper when he slides the tip through your folds, letting it catch at the entrance before smirking down at you.

"'s big," you hiccup, and he tsks, shaking his head.

"y'can take it, swee'eart," he murmurs. "y'r a riley now, luvvie. y'know what tha' means?" you shake your head, your eyes a little watery, and he smooths a hand up your sternum, gripping you around the throat gently. "gonna find out...gonna find out how well a riley takes wot they're given."

"simon--"

"'s alright, luv, we'll start nice, yeah?" he breathes. you grip onto his forearms when he feeds you his cock, slowly, and your back bows at a sharp angle as you squeeze him for everything he is. "fuckin' hell...yeah, just the tip, yeah? oh, good girl..."

good girl, yeah...i'm a good girl--

you cry out, digging your nails into him when he mutters fuck it and bottoms out. his palm flattens just under your belly button, a choked groan leaving him as he presses down, a rush of something fucking glorious running down his spine. it's a high--he's so fucking high, as if he is popping fucking pills.

"feel me here, yeah?" he drags his hips back, smoothing a hand further up your stomach until he paws one of your tits, squeezing it firmly. you nod, sliding your hands up his arms, fisting the fabric of his mask at the base of his neck. you feel him everywhere, you feel him in your chest, running down your spine, you feel him in your mouth and in your head, and it feels so good, it feels so so so so good.

"yes--yes!" you gasp. fuck, he's huge, he's putting a shadow over you. you're naked, bare underneath him, and his gear rocks with every thrust, and it's filthy because you wonder if he worked, you wonder if he didn't even change before he went to marry his perfectly-picked bride, you wonder if he got off the tarmac not even an hour after killing his target to go and take what is his.

how long ago was it that he last fired his weapon? the gun on his chest, did he use it before he saw you?

i bet he did. i bet he used it. i bet he smoked the cigarette that i smell on him, and i bet he came here, and then he married me, and now he's all mine, and he's fucking me six ways to fucking sunday--

you think you're drooling. your lips are wet, and with every smack of his hips against yours, you feel a little more trickle down the side of your face. you're moaning, gripping his neck, pulling him further down on top of you. you want him all around you, you want him inside, you want him to come every day wearing this terrifying fucking uniform and to fuck you so stupid, you forget everything except for the name he has given you.

you want to know nothing except for his name. simon. riley. simon. riley.

you want to know nothing except for what you are. his wife. his wife. his wife.

it's so hard to remember to breathe. his hands grip you tight around the hips, and he's losing momentum, hissing, letting out choked groans as he brands the shape of his cock into you. he never wants you to forget what he feels like--he never wants you to know anything except for him, for the rest of your life.

"simon--" you whine, and he smirks, reaching up to hold your face in one big hand, keeping you still as you chase the grind of his pelvis against your puffy clit. "simon--!"

"tha'sit, luvvie...yeah..." he nods, "look at me--look at me," he leans down, a big weight over you, suffocating you, "good girl, yeah..." he clicks his tongue, "cum f'me, swee'eart. cum f'y'r husband, yeah?"

you lean up, chasing after him, gripping onto the sides of his face as you kiss him hard. it is the first time you really kiss him. slotting your mouth over his, slipping your tongue into his mouth, the sting of your wedding ring cooling his warm face as you taste him for the very first time.

it is gone. the bitterness that you always taste, the acid and the sourness and everything that always is so unpleasant under your tongue, it is gone when you have him. he takes it out of your mouth completely, and you chase after this just as you chase after the harsh grind of your clit against his pelvis.

he is carrying you. you're lifting, coming over some kind of sweet, exhilarating euphoria, and you're blinded by it, by the feeling, by him. you want more, more, you want it all, and he said you could have anything you want, that you'll never need anything ever again, he said, he said, he said--!

he laughs when you come. he swallows your moans, hisses when you soak his pants. you are the prettiest thing he could ever hope for, the personification of the things he does not deserve and could never have, and it is selfish that he has taken you this way, but he does not fucking care.

the things we cannot have are the sweetest, the most desirable. and simon is nothing if he isn't a thief.

he is nothing if he doesn't just take what he wants. he likes to think that perhaps he adopts the "ask for forgiveness, and not for permission" philosophy, but he does not ask for forgiveness. and he has never asked for permission.

"please--simon--" you gasp, looking up at him. your eyes are wet, and a few tears wet his hand around your face. "please--inside me, please..."

"'s olright, luv--" he grunts, pumping faster, his pretty little wife just begging for him, for more, and how could he say no to that? "easy, baby...i'll give it t'ya, don't worry, fuck--" he hisses, "lieutenant's wife gets woteva she wants..."

"please--inside--" you choke. "simon, inside, i-i want it inside--"

fuck, that is all he needed. he nestles deep, pressing his hips to yours, and you kiss him once more when you go blind again. a second high, when he stuffs you full. just as you should be. just as you always should be.

"yeah, fuck--" he breathes. "tha' wot y'wanted, yeah? nice and full, good girl..." he licks his lips, standing up straight, and just when you think he is pulling out, he yanks you back towards him, cum leaking down your thighs as you cry out from being so sensitive.

"simon!" you gasp, giggling, and he grins, patting your ass gently before pulling out. you let your knees fall onto the cot, swallowing hard as you watch him tuck himself back into his pants and zip them up. he brings the mask back down, and you watch as he slips his gloves back on. "hmm..."

he tilts his head to the side, sighing as he watches you settle there. something warm settles in his stomach, something satisfied.

"like havin' y'in my bed," he says lowly. "look nice there."

you smile, and he holds out one hand, beckoning you to sit up. you do, slowly, a little shaky as you try and compose yourself, and he leans down and kisses you through the mask. you close your eyes, humming, leaning into his touch.

"so i can stay?" you ask, and he chuckles.

"mmm...y'r so cute, luvvie..." he rumbles. "a doll, yeah? can't say no to ya."

you look down at the ring on your finger, a solid gold band complete with a precious diamond. you will have to get used to this--you are his wife, you can ask things of him, and you don't think he'll say no.

you look up at him when he tosses something at you. an army green shirt of his, and you slip it on, letting the fabric fall, and you lay back down in his cot as he moves around his room. you lay in comfortable silence, watching as the thing that calls himself your husband looks for files on his desk, adjusts the gun strapped to his thigh, shuffles his boots across the linoleum. you are mesmerized by what he is, and you haven't known him even a day.

you don't believe this is your vision askew. the honeymoon phase. the sugary sweet moments in time at the beginning where nothing is wrong, where all is well. simon riley is a practical man. he does not lie. he does not do things he does not want to do, and he does not say things he does not want to say. he is not in the business of comfort and ease, that much is clear to you.

simon riley is practical and resourceful. you think maybe he counts his words. that he doesn't say more than he has to. waste his energy on things that don't require it.

his wife. i'm his wife. his wife.

"why..." you swallow. "why...why did you pick me?"

he pauses as he stands in front of a locker. when he opens it, you see shelves of personal weapons stashed away, handguns of different sizes and shapes, knives of differing steel, toys that with a small push of a finger could destroy whatever building they went off inside. you don't flinch, don't blink, don't feel fear. you don't know why, but you just don't. you don't think it's possible.

he doesn't look at you as he surveys what lines the walls of it.

"just knew y'were the one f'me, swee'eart," he mutters. he shuts the locker, and the lock clicks. he comes closer, twirling a small blade between his fingers, and you don't cower away when he flicks it towards you, holding your chin up with the sharp tip of it. he hums appreciatively at this. "in all honesty, had no idea really until i saw ya, 'f you'd be mine."

he bends down, leans close, and you follow the curve of the blade with your head, keeping your eyes on his. there is no timidness in your gaze, and for that, he beams under the mask. perfection in one woman.

"and what would you have done if i wasn't the one?"

he shrugs.

"would've killed ya, luv."

"just like that?"

"just like tha'."

the tip of his blade drags, sliding up the length of your throat, along the line of your jaw. your lips part as he traces your mouth with it, and you tilt your head to the side as you trace the edge of it with your tongue. he leans forward more, pressing his forehead to yours, and you can see where the eye-black around his eyes fades into his pale skin under the balaclava. you see yourself in those eyes. the you that you have been waiting for. the you that you have missed for your entire life. the you that has been hiding, too scared to come out, too afraid of what might be said if someone saw the real you.

she had not been hiding. just lying dormant, in someone else, waiting for you to come home.

you smile, big, and simon presses his mouth to yours again through the mask, kissing you there, growling from deep in his chest, a purr that only emanates the contentment and the relief he feels because he has found that thing to live for. it is so easy to die. it is so easy to give oneself for what they believe. it is not hard to give the best of yourself away, he knows that.

what he has never been able to do is find something that will keep him alive. he has only ever lived because he found dying pathetic. he found it cowardly. but the alternative had been just as unforgiving, just as unfulfilling. but not this. not you.

you will make it difficult to die. you will make death a challenge. and when he eyes that smile, this one that you give only to him, he is happy to be given this new objective.

"but don't worry y'r pretty head about all tha', luv."

you give him those eyes, and he drinks it all in, all that you are. finally, finally, finally--

"until death do we part, yeah?"

NEXT

[gremlingottoosilly]

high af reader legitimately thinking slasher konig is a huge ass bear as he murders her friends

"oh damn..that's large ass bear"

konig covered in blood and guts : ".."

Slasher!Konig who actually thinks it was a compliment. Come on, this guy never heard a nice word in his life - this, combined with his fucked up views on love and affection, makes him think that your screams of terror are actually affectionate moans, and your pleads for mercy are just indicating your arousal. So, when you really think he is a bear for a hot minute, and you yell it to the people in your group...yep, everything checks out - you're madly in love. You're showering him in compliments. You adore him. Only when he rips off your friend's arm with nothing but a huge ass knife - and you're pretty sure that bears do not use knives, even the big ones - you realize it's a man. A really big, scary man. Covered in blood and guts, leaning closer to you with the most crazed look in his eyes, his bloody hands reaching to grab your... "Danke, Schatzen. Didn't know you could be so adorable" He grabs you by the scruff of your neck, like a kitten. Flips you over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, so your nose presses right into something that feels like a pile of guts clinging to his uniform, and you'd throw up right on his boots, but a firm hand on your butt makes you freeze. Dead in your tracks. This guy is definitely not a bear, but can rival one in the sheer size - you hate to admit it, but you're almost impressed at just how fucking big he is. Too big. You don't want to admit it, of course, but the guy of his size shouldn't be this fucking big. Konig thinks it was all flirt. He finally found himself a perfect pretty wife who actually prefers her husband to be bloody and covered in guts, and that calling him a bear is sort off a weird nickname. He doesn't really care - he adores this too fucking much.

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Darkest Desire

Based off of this nonnie request! It’s a bit scarier than intended and I do apologise for that teehee. There’s also no smut…

Blurb: With a group of friends you visit the local Halloween Scare walk, an event that is hosted annually out in the creepy plaines of Hawkins and whilst it’s masks on for the locals, it’s very much masks off for the scare actors…

Pairing: Scare Actor!Eddie x Reader

Warnings: 18+, the holiday of Halloween is mentioned, talk of blood/gore, faux blades/knives, cursing, reader is referred to as girl, use of pet names, degrading, praising, stalking (cat&mouse), sly/cocky and slightly mean!Eddie. Characters are all 20+

-

divider by @reveriesources

Crunchy dry blood orange leaves litter the earth and frost tainted wind nips at your nose and cheeks. The squeals of excited children racing by your costume clad frame fills your ears with immense joy and you giggle airily as they launch themselves into one another. Racing toward the brightly lit luminescent funfair games in hopes of winning a stuffed animal or a goldfish in a bag.

Their parents lug behind them, their attire consisting of some makeshift costume they had thrown together at the last minute in hopes of pleasing their tiny humans and earning themselves a quiet car ride without any tantrums or fuss.

Your group, on the other hand, weren’t here for the childish and conning games. You were all here for the Scare Walk.

You hadn’t agreed on a coherent group costume so it was a pick and mix of totally different genres and ideas and from an outside perspective it was abundantly clear that there was no communication on the matter whatsoever.

Steve was dressed as the main character from Nightmare On Elm Street, Freddy Kruger. Nancy clearly had helped with the makeup aspect of the costume assemble but everything else screamed Harrington. He cropped the stripped knitted jumper to better suit his athletic frame and his hair was still very much classic Steve.

Robin had taken a whole new approach, dressing up as the colourful Rubik’s Cube puzzle toy. Deriving inspiration from the colourful squares she wore a long black jumpsuit covered in humongous reflective and vibrant square sequins. She more resembled a neon glitter ball, but you gave her the benefit of the doubt.

Nancy’s body was hugged by a khaki green boiler suit that had the long legs cut off and on her back she wore a black backpack with some DIY altercations made to it. She has begged Mike to help her create her costume, and that’s how she ended up dressed as a Ghostbuster, putting a strong feminine spin on the male dominated film. You hadn’t expected anything less from Nance, she was always looking for ways to empower women and her costume made you smile. Proud.

Jonathan had chosen a much whackier costume to better fit with his personality. The pungent smell of weed radiating from his body only complimented the fluorescent green costume he was wearing and the radioactive orange bandana blindfolded over his eyes. He had opted for the beloved character from the children’s series Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’, Michelangelo. Which shouldn’t have surprised you— but it did.

And finally, you had chosen something distinctively different from your friends. You had made the bold choice to go as a flapper girl from the 1920’s, inspired by Fitzgeralds novel The Great Gatsby. It was a bold move because you paired the costume with kitten heels and although they were small you knew by the end of the night your feet would be crying out for rest. It is a Scare Walk after all. Your body was adorned by glitter and lace and the fringe of your dress tickled at the exposed skin of your legs.

It was a bit chilly tonight, but you were having too much of a ball to really hone in and pay attention to the sharp gusts of wind. Steve and Robin were arguing over whose costume was more original and whilst Robin’s was, Steve always somehow managed to argue himself into being ‘right’.

“Talk to me when you have hand sewn a bazillion sequins onto something and not just took a pair of shears to a ratty old sweater.” Robin remarks with a smirk, crossing her arms over her chest and marching ahead of Steve.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that it was surprisingly difficult to cut this thing into a straight line— and it isn’t ratty or old, I literally bought it like two days ago.” Steve fires back with a squinted gaze as he follows closely behind Robin’s reflective beacon of light that seems to lead us through the dimness. Nancy grumbles inwardly to herself.

“Can you two stop bickering like babies? We’re here to have fun! So let’s go and do that!” She hooks her arm with yours, charging forward, “I heard that some people from campus are working here this year. I don’t know what they’re doing but isn’t that exciting? We might bump into them!” You admired how Nancy could make a good situation out of everything, however you didn’t quite share her enthusiasm for meeting people you already knew. Nancy was all about making and strengthening connections whereas you wanted to just have fun— judgement free.

And now that you knew that your peers were watching your every move you couldn’t help but feel your confidence shrink slightly and your words clam up. Dying in your throat before they could ever be heard aloud.

-

The walk started off relatively slow and rather boring. You kept mistaking your dress tickling your calf’s as insects running up the skin of your legs and Robin would giggle at the way your head was constantly shooting downward.

“You seem awfully jittery— is someone scared already?” She taunts, wiggling her eyebrows at you and grinning widely as she did.

You scoff in response, “Please. I’m nearly dozing off back here.”

An eerie dark silence falls over the group and the golden haze from the spooky funfair starts to fade into the background behind you as you venture further and deeper into the doom and gloom of night fall.

The smell of sweet popcorn no longer lingers in the hairs of your nostrils and a sinister chill runs down the back of your spine; like fingers tickling your bare skin.

“Are we sure we are sticking to the trail? It’s getting pretty dark out here— OH MY FUCKING GOD!!” Two little girls dressed in bloody dresses and horrifying makeup charge toward you from a nearby hidden brush. Their eyes glow a disturbing shade of white and they hold faux knives that still look devilishly real. You stumble backwards, nearly collapsing from shock however before you could fall to the ground you feel a hard body hit your back which makes you scream out in terror.

The figure laughs at you, jeering and sharp as you whip around to meet him and your hand is quick to find your chest. Your fingers claw at the fabric of your dress and you fist the fabric with a shaky grip. You’re panting, struggling for breath and the skull painted face looms over you for a moment too long; cocking his head to the side as he examines your costume.

That’s when you realise something. Something that you immediately recognised as a dark secret. A dark desire that should be kept hidden.

As his onyx orbs gleam and glare down at you, you feel a wave of heat feather your cold skin. Your core pulses between your thighs and your mouth hangs open in dreadful clarity; you were fucking turned on by this.

His chiselled face is painted to resemble a bare skull. White with inky dark circles that deepen his eye sockets and his cheekbones are defined with thick blended shadowy lines. His lips are painted black to match his contours and he has hand drawn on a stretched toothy smile and an empty nose cavity.

He doesn’t speak a single word.

He just stares at you. Almost as if he is furious with you.

And before long he drags himself away from you, like the simple task is deemed painful and impossible for him.

His torso is dressed in a fitted white button down shirt which is rolled up to his elbows and it exposes his tattooed forearms. On his legs he wears a simple but professional pair of black trousers paired with black suspenders that sling over his shoulders. On his feet he has combat boots supporting his ankles and some sort of padded device strapped around the joint of his knees.

You gawk at him as he skates across the concrete on his knees at an alarmingly fast rate toward another group of poor people; leaving sparks of light in his dust as they squirm and scream. Some of them even go as far to sprint off into the darkness away from him; which leaves the masked man cackling darkly and running after them.

“Holy shit! I had no idea he would be working here this year!” Steve slaps the palm of his hand onto your shoulder as he chuckles heavily and you pull away from him confused and slightly annoyed.

“Who is ‘he’ and how do you know him?” Steve’s laughter dies out slowly and his hands come to rest on his hips. A stance that he did often. The rest of the gang come to join you with curious expressions on their faces.

“Seriously? You don’t recognise him?” There’s a pause as you shake your head ‘no’ and Steve rolls his amber eyes dramatically, “That’s Eddie Munson, dipshit. He’s always smoking weed out in the courtyard on campus? Playing with the fire from the benson burner during chemistry— is this ringing any bells?” You shrug, crossing your arms defensively over your chest.

Is Eddie Munson someone you should know about?

“He has long, curly hair— not better than mine but hey, it’s definitely up there.” Steve’s hand smooths over his slicked back hair that is thick with gel and you laugh, now being able to form an image of Eddie in your mind.

“Ohh, the metal head? He sometimes walks around with his guitar slung over his back?” You reply as you begin to walk off after realising that you have all come to a stand still— and partially because you want to see Eddie again.

“Yeah! He is wicked with a guitar! I’ve seen him play.” Robin chirps from your left and Nancy hums on your right.

“He is pretty good.” Jonathan speaks through a mouthful of candy and you try to disguise your disgust as you unfortunately get a glimpse of the food on his tongue.

“Right…” is all you quietly reply as your eyes scan the bluish darkness. You can hear an owl hooting off in the distance and if it weren’t for the jump scares waiting for you, you would find this promenade quite peaceful.

Crickets whisper conversations from the tall blades of grass and you can see lanterns dotted up ahead of you. They cast ghoulish shadows all around the dirt path and your head twitches from side to side— trying to catch any of the silhouettes moving.

But they don’t.

You have strayed further ahead of the group, their voices hitting your ears in the form of muffled sounds but you don’t bother to wait on them. They are too busy laughing and booing at some of the scare actors whereas your heart is still palpitating at a ridiculous rate from the last scare.

Some of the actors were so gruesomely scary that you felt transported into your favourite slasher films whereas the others were just looming and ominous— more human. Humans are the scariest creatures after all. You fear your own kind in opposition to the unknown.

That’s why when the familiar skull skates over to you on his knees, you freeze this time. No fight or flight; just freeze. Your mouth gaping wide as his nose nearly brushes yours.

“Eddie.” His name is a breathless squeeze from your lungs as it leaves your mouth. You have to say his name aloud in order to ground your thundering heart. Were you excited or frightened? Maybe it was a mixture of both.

Whatever it was, the man stood in front of you wasn’t best pleased. His eyes narrow into irritated slits and his fingers toy with a piece of your hair— twirling it before yanking on it playfully.

Steve, Nancy, Robin and Jonathan all sprint past you in urgency. They screaming until their throats run raw as a deranged man with a faux chainsaw chases after them. Hot on their heels.

You and Eddie go unnoticed by them… and now…

Now you feel afraid.

“Y’know you aren’t supposed to address the actors personally, right?” He sneers through a tight jaw.

“He speaks.” You quip back sassily and Eddie huffs a distorted laugh.

“I’ve seen you around campus— even prettier up close. It’s a shame your attitude ruins that.” He circles you like a shark in water and you follow him. Twirling around makes you dizzy but Eddie’s chuckle makes your dizzier.

“Like a little lost lamb.” He coos, “Where are your cronies? Seems they’ve ditched.” His glove clad knuckle grazes your cheek and you flinch away from his soft touch. Taking a few steps back you widen the close distance between the two of you.

This causes Eddie to grin hugely; showing all of his teeth as he did.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re scared now?” He prowls toward you however you are quick to match every one of his steps. He takes a stride forward? You take a step back.

“You could run away if you wanted… but that’ll only entice me more. Didn’t they tell you? I love the chase.” His voice is a low animalistic growl and you couldn’t understand if this was Eddie or his character talking to you. Was this all an act or was he genuinely this menacing?

“I thought you actors weren’t supposed to get this close to the public…” You hunch your shoulders upward toward your ears as you cower away from his stalky frame and he stares through you; the gears in his head turning.

You shift on the balls of your feet uncomfortably and your skin blazes beneath his intense gaze.

“You’re blushing.” He says matter of factly and suddenly you feel the need to straighten your posture and try to get as far from him as possible.

“I am not.” The lie is pathetic as it meets the frosted air and Eddie smiles eerily.

“It’s the makeup, isn’t it? You like the makeup.” His head strains back on his neck as he lets out a loud laugh, “Fuck— that’s pathetic. You must be into some really weird shit.”

“I- that’s absurd!! I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You squeal and slink your arms around your torso. Partially because you were cold but also to be protective and assertive of yourself, “You don’t even know me—“ Eddie interjects, his finger tapping impatiently against his painted lips.

“Shhhh.” You feel the soft grain of his leather gloves as they tickle your skin and Eddie’s hands fully embrace your bare shoulders, “It’s okay— I like your costume too, I suppose.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, “I mean, it’s a bit outdated and boring but hey, you look good.” He flashes you a teasing wink that is nearly enough to make your lungs implode with lack of oxygen.

“Goodbye, Munson.” You swivel on your kitten heels and briskly find the frozen dirt path again. Your head involuntarily looks over your shoulder, trying to catch sight of Eddie one last time as you leave him behind but to your total disadvantage the metal head was no longer standing where you had left him.

He too, had taken off.

And unbeknownst to you, you had just pressed play on one of Eddie Munson’s all time favourite games; Cat and mouse.

-

It was getting later and later with every passing second and you couldn’t find your friends anywhere. You had last seen them run off whilst laughing and screaming in total horror but you hadn’t seen them since.

Had they actually ditched you and went home?

Once the thought infiltrated your psyche you contemplated on cutting the scare walk short and heading back to the funfair to search for them. However, going back meant that you had to go alone and there was something devilish about that.

To your left, through a thick canvas of sweetgum trees you can hear the owl again. Hooting softly— a sound that should calm your nerves but instead it tugs on them viciously. It’s more like an emergency siren warning you. A sign for you to run and to never look back.

A man made whistle slices through the chirping of the birds and it cuts at your skin like the edge of a blade. You look left and right, frantically dancing in circles as you try to determine where it’s coming from; but you are met with nothingness.

“Eddie, if that’s you then cut it out! This isn’t funny!” Your fingernails pinch at your skin as you begin to walk panicked in the opposite direction. Never paying attention to what’s in front of you, your gaze always trailing off to the side and behind you.

That’s when you see him— the skull peering at you from a dark line of trees in the distance. Your feet come to a staggering stop as you eye him. Was your mind playing tricks on you? Was Eddie really staring back at you or were you deluding yourself?

You swallow thickly, your mouth dry as you watch him emerge from the greenery. Before your brain can compute what your body is doing you are running; charging into the fullness of the forest.

Tree branches whip and rip at your skin, causing it to redden and sting. You wince but you continue soldiering on, your shoulders barge through sticks and nettles and thorns.

Your mind had convinced you that this was real. That you were being chased by a psycho.

“Hey— hey, stop!! It’s okay! Wait—“ Eddie is close behind you, crunching twigs beneath his boots but you are quicker than he is; more frightened and resilient to get as far from him as possible. For your own safety.

“Sweetheart! Stop!” You can hear him getting frustrated as he trudges through the cluttered landscape but you can see lights shining in front of you, just up ahead, and it causes you to force your legs to quicken. Desperate to reach there.

But just before you explode onto the funfair grounds your legs give way beneath you and you crash to the ground. The palms of your hands scrape against the jagged forest floor and your dress rips against a spiked log. You thought this shit only happened in the movies— but tonight you were proven wrong.

You look behind you and your eyes well up with tears of both pure adrenaline and fear at Eddie propelling himself toward you.

You bring up your hands around your head to protect yourself as you shrink back onto the floor, over the fact that your hair is full of pine needles and your knees are scraped and bleeding.

Eddie crouches by your side, a deep frown on his face and worry in his eyes.

“Hey, sweet girl, you’re okay…” Eddie bites off his leather gloves and throws them to the soft earth. He is gentle to pry your cold hands away from your muddied face and he hisses quietly at the temperature of your skin compared to his. He examines the palms of your hands tenderly, “Ouch… this must hurt. What were you thinking?”

Your foolishness almost causes Eddie to laugh, but after witnessing the genuine anxiety plaguing your features he decides not to.

“It was too real.” You blubber, letting out a dampened sob and Eddie’s heart pangs with guilt and sorrow, “I couldn’t find anyone and… and I saw you and I just couldn’t think of anything else…”

“I’m sorry, love. C’mere, let me help you up.” Eddie is crouched down, his knees bent as he braces himself in front of your shaking frame. He outstretches his hands toward you and you take them hesitantly.

Thanks to Eddie’s strength he pulls your weak body up to meet his with ease and he hold you against his chest. Breathing softly as he tries to calm your laboured and nervous breaths.

“I really am sorry… it’s just me, ‘Kay? I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise.” He peppers comforting pecks into your hair and your nails claw at the back of his shirt, “It must’ve been pretty scary; being out there all alone with me.”

You nod, your mind finally calming at the sound of his lulling and gentle voice.

“I do like the makeup.” Your confession is meek and muffled against his chest, “I think there must be something wrong with me.” You laugh, managing to pull away his chest and look at him much more confidently now.

“Not at all,” Eddie grins, “I think it’s quite the opposite, actually. Very normal— it might even be considered vanilla to some people out there.” Although you have removed yourself from the skull painted man’s chest, the closeness between the both of you remains the same.

The truth was; Eddie had always admired you. Your intelligence and your cunning. You were beautiful, which was the cherry on top of your infectiously bright personality. He had noticed you at the beginning of the academic year and he was too chicken to talk to you. You both were connected through Steve but Steve never really paid attention to Eddie’s longing and begging looks toward you.

But Steve didn’t have to say anything. Not anymore. Because you could see it for yourself. You could see beneath the intricate paint on his face that Eddie felt something for you. You weren’t sure what it was; lust, a crush or plain friendship but you could see it. Feel it.

“You must think I’m a total freak.”

“You have no idea who you’re talking to, sweetheart. I am the biggest freak to have ever lived.” Eddie lets out a giddy chuckle and his hands continue to rest lightly around your body. You welcome his lingering touch and his nearness. It felt familiar. Nice.

“We both look like weirdos standing out here in the dark.” Your eyes scan around the auburn horizon of tall trees and a soft smile rests on your smudged lipstick covered lips, “People are going to think we’ve been up to no good.”

Eddie smiles, his hand coming to stroke your cheek gently and tuck some of your rouge hair behind your ear, “With how windswept your hair is, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

You both stand there, the air is clouded with electrifying tension and you can’t think of anything else other than how badly you want him to kiss you.

“I wanna take you out… on a date.” His hands cup your face, “When I’m not this caricature. I’ll just be me and you will be you. You won’t have to run from me…” His cold nose brushes the tip of yours, “I won’t have to chase you.” You can smell mint and nicotine on his breath and you have never been more intoxicated by anything in your entire life.

“What’d ya say, sweet girl? Let me take you somewhere nice so I can kiss you properly at the end of the night?” There is a slight desperation to his voice and you bite your lip to suppress a wide smile.

“I’d like you to chase me, Eddie. Chase me with daisies and a boombox and your guitar. You won’t have to run after me for long…” You are dangerously close to him now, your breath quickening as you press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. It takes every ounce of self control not to eat his entire mouth with yours, “Take me anywhere. As long as it’s with you.”

“I will.” He promises.

“And kiss me at the end of the night?” You are desperate yourself now, your eyes sparkling with moonlight as you look up into his shadowy hues.

“I will.” He strokes your hair so delicately; like you are the most precious thing he has ever handled, “I promise.”

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae @sidthedollface2 @kellsck @your-nightmaredoll @purplewitchcauldron @manitskatrina @georgeweasleyslostearhq

[heartlilith]

WHAT THE VENUS SIGNS REMIND ME OF

🩷Oddly specific things I think about when I hear ______ venus

Aries Venus: Summer, rubies, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, rollercoasters, fast cars, the color red, vampire fangs, Saturday nights, liquor stores and gas stations, fireworks, sour candy, cool bic lighters, “you’re mine”, Mario Kart, boys who wear nail polish, fuck it energy, oversized sweatshirts, middle finger emoji, cherries

Taurus Venus: Satin pillowcases, white candles, pearls, mirrors, hand holding, walking someone home at night, vinyls, red lipstick, full lips, fancy dinner dates, the wine and dine, old romantic movies, wallets and purses, hotels, French manicures, old money, “I won’t get on my knees for no man”

Gemini Venus: Driving around at night listening to music, reading to someone, comedy shows, mimosas, Samantha from Sex and the City, libraries, nerd kink, hot teachers/student kink, emerald green, laughter, swing sets, looking out of the window and just watching, untied shoelaces, dogs and puppies, dad jokes

Cancer Venus: Soft feather pillows, a bowl of warm soup, a bubble bath, tears and running mascara, babies and how babies laugh, poetry, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be”, hot tubs, hot coffee, teddy bears, heartbeats, soft hands & skin, lotion, bagels and cream cheese, doodling in your journal

Leo Venus: Lip gloss, mojitos, getting drunk at brunch, diamond tennis bracelets, drunk texts you regret sending later, the block button, lonely nights, shooting stars, blowing bubbles, piggy back rides, art museums, glittery eyeshadow, jumparoos, birthday parties

Virgo Venus: Taking a shower, Dove soap, smooth skin, symmetry, butterflies, the smell of books, getting a facial or going to the spa, chicken caesar salads, the good tasting water, chunky headphones, acoustic guitar, running errands, getting your eyebrows done, neat handwriting, neutral colors, sushi

Libra Venus: Blush, dimples, Y2K fashion, Hello Kitty, makeup skills, those little hand mirrors, princes and princesses, cupcakes, pedicures, Margaritas, taking pictures, art, castles, Disney movies, daisies, spin the bottle, cartwheels, soft hair, bubblegum, skincare, watermelon and pineapple

Scorpio Venus: Psychology, neck tattoos, “until death do us part”, Kings & Queens, snakes, sacred sex, chess, secrets, hickeys, the feeling after you stay up all night, the feeling of being at a concert, roses, knives, tequila shots, legs intertwined, dirty martinis, sparklers, Avril Lavigne, fantasy books, true crime and dark history

Sagittarius Venus: Clouds, rock climbing, rappers, Hip Hop and R&B, going on vacation, açaí bowls and fresh fruit, sun kissed/radiant skin, the color yellow, retreats, history, yoga and Pilates, spicy food, “it is what it is”, curly hair, the smell of weed, casinos, the last day of school, Las Vegas

Capricorn Venus: Leather, red wine, the cow pattern, cowgirl boots, the color brown, espresso, dark chocolate, briefcase of money like in the movies, the movie Scarface, whiskey on the rocks, bosses, owls, turtle necks, caramel, wearing suits, lingerie, business, New York City

Aquarius Venus: Lightbulbs, telescopes and microscopes, LED lights, hamsters, college parties, glitter, peace signs, 70s concerts, food trucks, skipping school, “fuck it”, diving in the pool, the beach at night, disco balls, getting detentions in school

Pisces Venus: Mermaids, kittens, cartoons and Disney princesses, champagne, Webkinz, little kid stories like Goldilocks, 3 Little Pigs, Hansel and Gretel, clear glittery lip gloss, holographic, snowmen and icicles, swimming in the pool, flower gardens, glow sticks , picnics, bumblebees, sand castles, elementary art class, 3D movies

Book a Reading 🩷

Masterlist 🩷

[didsomeonesayventus]

on one hand I should probably branch out and not pair azura up with jakob for my nth playthru of fates rev on the other I simply cannot resist slightly messy but ride or die shigure + dwyer sibling bond

[jjkeremika]

shameless lovers

description: sex with AoT men

feat. eren jaeger; erwin smith; jean kirstein; porco galliard; reiner braun; levi ackerman x fem!reader

tag/disclaimer(s): NSFW/MDNI; fem!reader; biting; daddy; knife play; in public; penetration

eren - rambles

eren can’t keep his mouth shut. it’s running as fast as his mind is reeling with how fantastic he thinks you look nude, how badly he wants to touch your bare, sensitive skin. his low tone harmonized by your demanding, high-pitched moans as he tweaks your nipples with two fingers. his lips occupied with intermittent kisses along your neck and torso as he rambles about how hot you are, just how much he loves your body as he thrusts into you with a rough shove and a tight grasp on your hip.

erwin - sweet talks you through it

“oh, baby, you can do it. you’re doing so well—taking all of me so well,” are some of many phrases erwin throatily whispers in your ear as he mercilessly pounds into you, as he kitten-licks and nibbles on nearby skin. you catch him glancing down at where his cock slipped into your cunt, notice him gasp, “so well, so perfect—you’re so perfect,” with a soft, soothing voice that so starkly contrasts the almost painful hold on your hips, the almost overbearing fullness of a thick extremity pushing and stuffing your insides to capacity.

jean - daddy

jean loves when you call him daddy. he feels every nerve ending prickle and bump when the heat and euphoria becomes overwhelming and you scream out, “da-daddy, i-it’s too much!” the name encourages his hips to speed up, to readjust and fuck you harder with dilated pupils. “no, no, it’s not too much, sweetheart,” he replies with a sultry calm veneer, staring at you with narrowed brows and hooded eyes, leaning in like he’s following a gravitational pull, thrusting in with dramatic effect, “daddy only gives you exactly what you need.”

galliard - bites

porco hits it from behind and bites into the nape of your neck while he thrusts in and out, his sculpted front aligning closely along your spine. the heat of forced exhales overwhelming the nerves as his jaw creeps to the tip of your spine and his glorious teeth claim your nape so he can hold you in place and drill into you. you'll have to start putting a mirror in front of the bed so you can see it, fantasize about his crisp, sharp jawline along your back as his teeth sink into your neck.

reiner - knives

reiner likes to feel your nails along his skin—wanted to return the favor and hear the breathless gasp fall from your lips when the ghostly sensation trickled to your brain. but his nails weren’t sharp or titillating enough, and knives were so much more enticing, that he couldn’t resist running the sharp tip up your arm one night, paired it with a hardy erection eagerly shoved into your hip. daring to even hold two against the delicate skin near your pulse, replacing the source of the blood rush with his cock when he couldn’t bear listening to your weighted breaths and not being inside you already.

levi - in public

levi hid his life for so long he doesn’t want to anymore. he wants to show you off to the public, and that includes propping you up against a bathroom stall in a public restaurant or between two buildings in an alley. he’ll loosely cover your loud mouth with his palm as he holds you between the wall and himself, incessantly grinds his thick erection against your crotch as he orders you to be quieter with a wide suggestive smirk, exuberantly excited at the prospect of being caught intimately with you, up against you. being publicly placed inside you.

[am-i-interrupting]

Reaction to You Doming

(Part one— the gals)

Alastor

An eyebrow raise and a widen of his smile.

Alastor doesn’t participate in sex where he’s touched or stimulated often but even so, the idea is something he finds amusing.

You really think you can take the Radio Demon? Hilarious.

He’ll indulge you.

You’ve got to fight for it though because he is going to struggle.

Pining him down, tying him up, even if he can easily get out of it if he so wishes, he’s surprised to find himself enjoying it.

Whips, chains, knives, biting, he finds himself enjoying the things he normally uses on you.

He will get bratty if you try to edge him though. That he’s not used to.

When he gets hard, he normally deals with it quickly after being touched.

He’s able to ignore any hard on he gets for a while if he doesn’t touch it or stimulated it but as soon as he does, he normally comes within five minutes.

You edging him and teasing him, barely dragging the tip of your fingers along his dick, giving his tip kitten licks, sucking his balls instead of his cock. It’s all torture. He loves it.

He’d be a fan of urethral sounding.

The feel of a stretch, a full was where it’s not supposed to be, stopping him from being able to come. Once again, he hates it but he loves it.

You’d surprise him when you’re able to tame him and he’d enjoy every second of it.

When he’s done though, he’s done and probably won’t let you do it for several weeks if not months.

Husk

Husk is not opposed. No, he’s not opposed at all.

He’s not exactly the most sexually active. He’s got a low to normal libido and it takes a bit of build up to get him in the right mood.

Slow, sloppy make out sessions, preening his wings, cuddling on the couch while playing with his tail.

The most sure fire way though would be a massage.

He has a lot of tension and getting it pushed and rubbed out of him is something that slowly builds up his arousal as he feels more and more safe.

He’s purring putty in your hands.

At that point, you can prop him up and get him off.

If you’re behind him, he’s hiding his head in the crook of your neck and you can feel his purrs against your skin.

If you’re in front of him, he’s cupping your face gently with his paws, tangling his claws in your hair, running a hand over your skin, just desperate to touch you.

Or you could tell him to suck and he will. It won’t be precise but it will be earnest and warm and you’ll be teased with the vibration of his vocal cords.

If you pet him or brush him, his purrs will get even louder.

He won’t ever get desperate or beg. He might do a bit of whining if you stall his release but he feels warm and safe with you.

He knows you’ll take care of him eventually. He’s not too worried about how long it’ll take.

He’ll look at you with eyes completely overtaken by his dilated pupils the entire time.

Lucifer

Lucifer is immediately on board. Sort of like a “I’m glad you asked before I had to.”

The only thing that stopped him from begging for you to dominate him was the pure embarrassment opening the conversation would give him.

He’s the sun of pride, not lust. He put his pride just a bit before it. Although, he was about to turn to Ozzie for advice on how to start the conversation without turning completely red in the face.

He is such a good boy for you.

He sinks into the sub-space so quickly.

He will do absolutely anything you ask.

He’s got a praise kink.

He loves and hates being tied up. He loves being a pretty play thing for you but hates that he can’t touch you.

Mouth open, ready for you to ride his tongue without even having to ask.

One of his favorite things is to suck on you, your clit/dick, your nipples, your fingers, your skin, whatever. He doesn’t care. He has an oral fixation.

Loves to be filled.

Fuck him into the mattress until he can’t speak, please.

Vox

He has an image to upkeep. It’s hard for him to let go of the idea that people are constantly watching him.

When he does though, he’s either a brat or the perfect little boy, no in between.

He likes to feel small.

If you’ll just squeeze his neck or put pressure on his dick, he’ll be in the sub-space so quickly.

He loves and adores you showing him you have power over him.

Edge him. Make him wear a cock cage. He’ll be so bratty but so whiny when he comes.

He likes being driven to tears.

Overwhelm him.

Embarrass him.

Praise him.

If you put him in any form of bondage, he’s trying to get out of it. He’s got to touch you. He needs to.

His favorite feeling is your mouth and fingers on his dick teasing him with ghost touches.

He will come untouched from words and anal stimulation alone.

If you tease him with the tip of your dick/strap on and then slowly inch inside him, he’s tearing up the sheets as he whines and writhes.

[chiisana-sukima]

nine people i want to get to know better

Thank you for the tag, @slutsons-blog! Starting a new post because I'm autistic and therefore mostly only care about the "Current Obsession" question, and want to ramble excessively as usual in that one.

Last song: Pokemon Mystery Dungeon Red Rescue Team: Pokemon Square because I'm currently playing Pokemon Mystery Dungeon with my daughter. Otherwise I honestly couldn't tell you. Whatever was on in my car.

Fave color: Purple

Currently watching: Star Trek Discovery

Last movie: Knives Out

Sweet/spicy/savory: Sweet, tart, salty

Relationship: married x 27 years

Last thing I googled: the word "dependent", for spelling assistance. which is a good thing because I spelled it "dependant".

Current Obsession: it's been spn since 2016. Truly we are the Hotel California of media franchises. I did recently play Disco Elysium twice in a row in quick succession, and I follow the DE tag. I can't recommend the game highly enough.... but I can feel my Special Interest-level obsession with it fading already. Spn has never faded even a tiny bit and I wonder if it ever will.

@slutsons-blog I feel after reading that you're watching spn for the first time, that I did you a bit of a disservice with my Sam takes to you before in that I mostly talked about Sam's evolution as a character as the show goes on and very little about him from the first five seasons.

Gotta be honest and tell you that although I liked both brothers all along, I was a Dean girl until the end of s6/beginning of s7, when the balance of who gets whumped the most started shifting and my subconscious suddenly decided to switch allegiances. It's not that I liked Dean any less; my id just loves a sopping wet pathetic kitten of a man who has been sexually abused, and Sam got suddenly way more kitteny and pathetic after the Cage. So I don't actually have a ton of takes on "what to love about Sam in the early seasons". I do love early seasons Sam too--she is my beautiful baby princess--but my early seasons takes are a lot more inchoate.

I count myself lucky about my id's sudden defection though, because I think we have limited control of who our blorbos are, and having Dean as a blorbo is a tough row to hoe as the later seasons go along. You know how you noticed that in s6, Dean suddenly gets a lot more assholey without apparent reason? Unfortunately he never gets better again, and in fact keeps getting worse and worse as the years go by, until by the last seasons he is openly far more abusive to their joint child(-in-an-adult body) than John was to him and Sam. It's a realistic picture of what can happen when trauma keeps piling up on people, but it's also honestly pretty distressing, especially if he's your blorbo.

If one is in it for the ship, there's some good destiel content in the later seasons, but if you're in it for Dean, you're left either 1) dealing with the fact he's got extremely significant interpersonal problems that he never gets much of anywhere on solving and that negatively impact his chosen family in profound ways, or 2) pretending he's the same character he was in s1 and Sam is the same Sam from s1, only more boring, and Dean is just trying to put up with him because he was brainwashed by John (or ig 3- something in the middle between those two. But that seldom seems to happen in practice for whatever reason). These two versions of the show are poorly compatible, and that's how the Sam girls and the Dean girls end up in isolated silos. A few people manage to live in both, but not many.

Anyway, I feel like without the context of how Sam and Dean change in the mid to late seasons, the two fics I recc'd as Sam character studies are going to seem insanely Dean-critical, so if you haven't read them yet, you might want to wait until s10. In the meantime, the general recs are fun reads and hopefully do a good job of showcasing both characters earlier on.

Tagging (but I would be a huge hypocrite if I didn't specify there's no pressure to respond, since I almost always fail at responding to tag games myself): @adihildilid @aliusfrater @quietwingsinthesky @sammygender @ardentpoop

@peanutbutterandbananasandwichs @schizosamwincester @normalbrothershow @jellybracelet.

[ghost-bxrd]

One of my fav Jason adoption photos ideas is Jason coming back way late the robins and bat kids are all adults now and settled into themselves, Bruce is retired due to not being able to keep up anymore and he’s a teenager with anger issues and they all sort of adopt him cause they think he’s cute like a feral kitten.

A feral kitten who knows how to use knives which—- murder kitten 😭 Damian will be like “I wasn’t that bad when I was younger, right?”

Dick, shuddering: No, you were way worse

[buckyalpine]

Missing

This is so dumb. Imma post it anyway. This is more of a pure ridiculousness and fluff fever dream with grumpy mob Bucky and sunshine reader, was in the mood for a lil sassy Bucky. 

A silly part 2 

“WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE”

Bucky’s men swallowed thickly, staring lowly at their feet while he glared at them, their silence angering him more. How could they let this happen. 

“So none of you. NONE OF YOU thought to keep an eye on her to make sure nothing happened to her?!”

Silence.

“I SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU TO TAKE CARE OF HER WHILE I WAS GONE”

Sam and Steve shook their heads a the group, they should have known better than to be so careless, this wouldn’t have happened under their watch. 

“Fucking hell, I leave you idiots in charge for 5 days, 5 FUCKING DAYS, and that was some how too much?!” 

Bucky sucked in a breath, storming to his office, deciding he could tell them off later. Right now, he had bigger problems and the longer he waited, the harder it would be to get her back. His baby. His sweet heart. His angel. His everything. Steve and Sam followed, ready to search the entirety of New York all day and night if they had to. 

“Buck, what do you plan on doing, she could be anywhere, we can send the team to look-

“I’m not sending those idiots” Bucky rubbed his temples before pulling up his laptop. The scowl from his face dropped when he saw the little blinking red dot on the screen. “Thank fuck, her tracking device is still working” 

“You put a tracking device on her?” Sam gawked, before snorting and shaking his head. Of course the mobster did, how could he expect any less. 

“Well, now you see why I did”  Bucky shrugged, turning the laptop for the other two men to see. The coordinates weren’t near them but it didn’t matter. “I don’t get how the fuck she ended up there, but we have to go now, lets go” 

Bucky couldn’t help the tick of his jaw, the twitch of his fingers as they drove down the streets to get to her. He narrowed his eyes as they neared the location, he didn’t care what or who he’d have to face, he would get her back if it meant he had to burn the cutesy little house to the ground. 

The three men hopped out of the black SUV, guns and knives in check, taking long strides to the little porch of the house and straight to the door. Bucky wasted no time, his fist flying to the door. As soon as it opened, he stared down at you, his jaw clenched, chest heaving. 

“Where is she” 

5 Days ago 

You yelped feeling a warm soft ball of fur brush by your legs as you restocked some flowers your stall. You looked down to see a pair of bright blue eyes looking up at you, a sweet little white kitten slinking around your ankles. 

“Oh hello” You giggled, as the feline purred, rubbing herself and nuzzling into your leg, lifting her paws up so you could carry her. You smiled, cradling her in your arms; her perfect silky soft fur and gold jeweled collar indicated she was definitely not a stray. 

“Who do you belong to princess” You carefully looked at her collar, only to find her name on it without an address. “Hmm Alpine. What will I do with you sweetie?” You cooed while she nudged her face into your neck, her paws kneading into your skin. 

“I suppose you can stay with me and we can put some posters up for your owners to come find you?” 

“Meow”

You giggled, deciding to close the stall early for the afternoon, making your way down to the pet store to grab a few tins of food and other supplies for your new guest, unsure of how long she’d be with you (though you secretly hoped her owners wouldn’t come for her too soon). 

“Hmm little princess like you, how about this soft cat bed?” 

Halfway through your shopping trip, you forgot Alpine wasn’t actually yours, filling the cart with treats, toys, a bed and a number of other things you certainly didn’t need. You couldn't help it though, cooing at the little ball of fluff that contently curled up in your arms as you walked up and down the aisles. 

Of course.

She loved all her toys. And ate all her food. And was the most polite little house guest. Her daddy taught her proper manners. 

Except.

She never used the bed. 

No. 

In the middle of the night you felt 4 tiny paws climb over your side, nuzzling itself into the crook of your neck, her purring as loud as a motor boat. You sighed to yourself, snuggling Alpine in your arms, wondering how much time you’d get to spend with the fur baby. 

Present

You jumped, hearing loud banging at your door; dropping your rolling pin on the counter. You ran to the door, blinking up at the 3 huge men at your doorway with wide eyes, all of them staring down at you, the one in the middle looked like he was going to just walk right in. 

“Where is she”

“Who- 

 You blinked again in confusion before connecting the dots; the chain around Bucky’s wrist was very similar to the one Alpine wore as a collar. You bit back a giggle, looking at the large man in front of you. His rings, dark suit and the gun poking from his waist band was a stark contrast to the little ball of fluff you had housed for five days. 

“Oh! You’re here for Alpine?” 

You stepped aside, letting all three men into your home. Bucky paused for a moment after he actually look in his surroundings. Your home reminded him of a cute doll house; a small porch with a swing. The outside painted a soft yellow. Flowers were all around your garden. The inside of your house smelled like cinnamon and vanilla with pictures of family decorating the walls. It was adorable. 

“Come with me, I’m sure she’s still where I left her” 

You led the mob boss down the hall to the living room and Bucky’s heart was beating a little faster than usual. You were in a dotted dress, an apron still around your waist. Your hair was still a little tousled from your time in the kitchen; smearing's of flour streaks your nose and cheeks.

You looked like a doll.

The most adorable- No. Focus. 

Sam and Steve glanced at each other, smirking, watching Bucky give you heart eyes as he trailed behind you, the two whispering while you both disappeared into the living room. 

“Bet you 50, Alpine gets a spot at the altar” 

“The altar?”

“When they get married” Sam shrugged, while Steve snorted. 

“Alpine, look whose here” You smiled softly, while Bucky’s heart leapt seeing his little princess curled up in one of your sweaters, her paws batting at the strings of your hoodie. She perked up, scampering off the couch and into Bucky’s arms, purring and burying herself into his chest.

“Hey sweet girl” Bucky whispered, kissing the top of her head. “You went on an adventure, huh?” He scratched her behind the ears, giving her all the kisses she had missed out on for days. “Daddy missed you baby”

Your heart melted, looking at how Alpine nearly disappeared in Bucky’s large arms and the way he was so soft for his little fur baby. His eyes were glazed over, cooing and kissing her. It was also then that you realized he was incredibly handsome. Blue eyes like Alpine, tan skin, stubble covering his cheeks, pink lips. Beautiful.

“How did you know she was here?” You hesitantly took a step closer to stroke the top of her head. Bucky smiled at the way Alpine responded to you as she leaned into your touch, on cloud nine now that she had a possible mommy to play with-

“Oh” Bucky blushed again, realizing he had essentially just barged into your home without warning, not actually telling you who he was, or what he was even there for. “Her collar; it has a tracker” 

“I-I um- brought some stuff for her, you-you can take it with you if you like?” You quickly stepped away to grab the box of the things you had bought for her and Bucky’s heart leapt again at your sweetness. “She didn’t use her bed, only slept with me” 

“Yeah, her daddy would’ve probably done the same if you found him instead- ow” Sam whispered before he yelped when Steve flicked his hear, trying to contain his laugh. 

Bucky thanked you, not trusting himself to speak each time you looked at him with your sweet eyes. He wanted to give you something to taking such good care of his baby but of course you refused and he only fell for you more. Alpine mewed, looking back longingly as the SUVs pulled out of the driveway before lookin at her dad right in the eye. Why were you not coming with them?

*****

“Alp?”

Bucky set down the book he was reading, as Alpine slinked out of bed, making her way over to the  box of stuff you had bought for her. She dragged a sweater of yours that had fallen into the box, pulling it up onto the bed and kneading it before making her self comfortable, burying her face in, purring loudly. Bucky snorted, wrapping her up in the sweater and cradling her, clearly he wasn’t the only one that had spent all day thinking about you. 

“You like her huh?” Bucky looked down at the sassy thing in his arm; the slow blink she gave him was all he needed to know. “You want her to be your mommy?” Bucky blinked to himself, shaking his head. What was he doing, taking relationship advice from his cat. “I’m getting a head of myself”

“Yeah, starting with the fact that you’re talking to a cat. Now go ask her out” 

Bucky growled, rolling his eyes, hearing Sam’s muffled cackle through his closed door. Sam wasn’t wrong though. 

He had to ask you out. 

*****

“Make it 100. 100 bucks Alpine is at the wedding”

“Add another 5, she’ll officiate the wedding” 

“You think he’ll want Alp on our side with the groomsmen or with her”

“There won’t be any groomsmen left alive if you all don’t shut the fuck up” 

*Whispers*

“Alp will be with the groomsmen”

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