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leviathanleva · 17 days

Text

Cujo

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Supersoldier!FemReader

Description: A monster in human skin, a weapon disguised as a person, no thoughts, no emotion, as per design. He despises you and everything you stand for. He’s tried to kick you out of his squad and failed, he’s made it his mission to break you no matter the cost.

It comes as a surprise when he asks you to lie and say you love him.

[4.4k words]

[Angst, Blood and Injury, Graphic Depiction of Gore]

Chapter 3 "Liquorish"

Heartbeat heavy in your chest, you race up the supposedly abandoned building, finding enemy after enemy.

It was supposed to be a routine inspection, an easy mission, in and out in less than a week. Now everything is turned upside down and being unable to contact or smell Ghost anywhere near has your senses flaring up with the unfamiliar feeling of stress and determination.

Bloodlust hazes your vision, everything has a ruddy tint to it, be it from splattered entrails or rage, it’s beyond your understanding. The memories still linger, the last sentence you heard over the coms before everything went to static:

“Hound! Do not engage! The roof is – ”

You were supposed to be his shield, it’s your job to be ambushed and take damage, you can regenerate, he can’t. But Ghost let either his man pride or his protective instinct overwhelm him, the anxiety still lingered in his gut no matter how many times you came back to him half dead and you were good as new minutes later. He wasn’t thinking clearly when he pushed you behind him and ordered you to watch his back as you advanced through the abandoned building suspected of drug trafficking activity.

He moved ahead without you, for once he wanted to be your protector. Now you can’t sense hair or trail from him and you’re becoming increasingly frustrated.

Easy mission your ass. This was a charade for something bigger.

The mask around your mouth whirls in overdrive, siphoning as much oxygen as possible while you vigorously work your way to the dreaded roof. Straining both muscle and limb in unison, you climb floor after floor, pushing your limitations as vapor froths off your skin and trails behind you like a haunting mirage. Your body is boiling on the inside, having exerted too much energy in too short a time and your muzzle can only do so much to keep you going before you collapse from overheating.

To hell with pushing your bounds when the Lieutenant might be in danger.

Another enemy, seemingly waiting for you, they all have been, a crumb trail of beating hearts the closer you get to your destination. You dive for him as bullets dig into your shoulder, he’s sliding towards the grimy floor and clutching his shredded throat a moment later. You don’t have time for a measly nobody, he chose the wrong side, he suffers the consequences.

The concrete debris crinkles under your boots, crushed to fine dust under the pressure you’ve put on your feet. Clutching and shouldering corners, you bounce yourself off them to retain speed in the claustrophobic corridors. Jump over handfuls of stairs where more hostiles await, you hear them before you see them, distinguishing their heavy breathing over your muffled pants.

Blood painting the walls like an abstract piece of art, death is left in your wake as you rush up another floor. The screams have alerted more people, and so have the gunshots and you bristle at the amount of footsteps echoing in the shells of your ears.

What is going on? Why are there so many of them? Where the hell is the Lieutenant? How did they jam your coms?

The questions are pushed aside as you appear in the shadows of a bare apartment, blending into the darkness and only your irises visible. A menacing sight to anyone, a monster, it’s what you’ve become as you slowly drown in your brutish ways the longer you’re detached from your beloved master.

A hoarse growl escapes you, you’re nearly moving on all fours, prowling low to the floor as you tackle the first enemy target. Flashlights are thrown astray, nearly blinding you as the chaos ensues. You crush bone like it’s toothpicks, rip at flesh like paper, the whirring in your mask overwhelms the gurgling cries for help and call for reinforcements. Bloodlust can be dangerous in the hands of one who is inexperienced such as yourself and you keep walking deeper down that path as no sign of your teammate shines to stifle you back to normalcy.

Strands of hair stick to your face like glue, matted down and drenched in sweat, your gear feels heavy and damp, it’s a sauna beneath your loose, coarse blouse. Your socks are slippery against the inside of your boots and you have half a mind to kick them off and continue barefoot. Juggernaut as you are, your breaking point is nearly reached and you feel the stinging pain creeping up your spine. The idea of rest is forced away, you can’t afford it when you’re so close, you’ve come too far to shut down now to cool off, not when Ghost is unresponsive.

The amount of cocking weapons should be concerning as you near the door to the roof, bloodshot eyes opened wide and pupils dilated as the scent of familiarity finally reaches your nostrils, too intoxicating for your mind to register the plethora of other bodily odors.

You nearly break through the door in your neglectful hurry, gaze harsh and piercing, slicing through the multitude of hostile soldiers only with your oppressive presence. Hunched over, with tense shoulders and pulsing hands that are itching to rip into the men before you, you skim over the roof with vigor, letting your nose guide your vision to a familiar figure standing at the edge of the roof.

“Lieutenant!” Your first instinct is to rasp out, crystalline orbs trained on his battered form strung up by a crane like a piece of meat. A guttural snarl reverberates deep in your throat as you turn to the crowd of armed enemies with malice, ready to shred them to a pulp and eat a bucket of bullets in the process if only to get to your precious squad mate.

Ghost sways above a crater, his secured feet dangling above a deadly drop. You can smell the blood slowly oozing down his knuckles, staining his gloves, and hear his steady heart as he swims in unconsciousness. You nearly whine at the sight, reeling your head towards him with the need to call out again and maybe have him wake up.

No such simple luxury is provided for you, instead you’re faced off with a handful of brutes who believe their chances of survival are higher than zero.

You take a step forward. The weapons train on you.

You’ll rip them apart –

“ – Tut, tut!”

You falter at the voice and watch the nearly unhinged door behind you close to reveal none other than your target – suited and unbothered by your feral breathing and unceremonial entrance. The man you’ve been hunting for an age too long now to admit, a slippery bastard that felt someone breathing down his neck only when you were sent after his trail. Philip Graves stands to your right, the traitor, the absolute menace of a man that has the audacity to flick a smile at you as if you’d just joined his most prestigious party.

“Well, it’s nice to finally see Shepherd’s little experiment in the flesh.” He croons and looks you over in marvel. A bitter frown adorns your features as you abandon your prowling stance and straighten your back, adopting a more human-like pose. “Quite the achievement.” He notices your attention turn completely to him and scoffs before unfurling his fingers to show off a remote of sorts. “Don’t give me that look.”

“And that is…?” You question, words slurred by the confines of your muzzle as your eyes dart from his face to the remote, then you realize and your glare sharpens.

“The remote to the crane of course. I wouldn’t risk being in your proximity if I didn’t have a guarantee of your obedience. I’m confident, not a fool.” You’d snort at his cocky words in a different setting. He gestures at you with his free hand, flicking his fingers casually as if ushering a child. “Now if you really cherish your Lieutenant – remove your mask.”

For a brief moment, you’re left confused, blink at him twice before tilting your chin to one side and crossing your arms, eyes straying from him as you plunge into thought. The audacity was not what bewildered you, but his utter belief in having wrangled you pliant. To think he was willing to so absolutely rely on the dry, shallow information he’d dug up was preposterous. It was also wrong, your instructions were clear and no blackmail or threat was going to weaken your resolve.

You were trained to hunt, complete your assignment at any cost, be put in lethal danger, and come out victorious. Your squad mates were weak to no fault of their own, but their lifeline was something you would risk for the greater good.

This was your duty.

“No.” You answer simply and take a step forward. Whatever justice-fueled speech was circling in your head is silenced by an unfamiliar trepidation in your chest as you see Graves’ thumb glide over the release button on the remote. You swallow something thick in your throat and huff out a breath before straightening your shoulders. “Return the Lieutenant to me and I will leave you to run. I will not pursue you. You have my word.”

What was this…? What the hell were you saying?

He laughs at your words, apparently the contradiction of them to your monotone voice is entertaining. Your jaw clenches at his nonchalant demeanor used to disguise the nervous sheet of sweat forming thickly on the back of his neck. You can smell it even with the abundance of testosterone burning your nostrils.

“You see, I would…but then again, I don’t trust you.”

“I do not lie.” You state with a deadpan look.

“You don’t disobey orders either.” Graves retorts and gives you a challenging expression, pursing his lips to one side and deeming you too untrustworthy for a dealing of a peace delegation. “Mask off. Now.” He snaps when you don’t budge and twirls the remote in his hand before pointing it daringly at Ghost. A moment of nothing passes and instead of the tension you’d hoped to rise within him, he grins and rests a hand on his hip, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Oh? Is this right? You truly don’t care for your teammate?”

“No.” Comes your immediate answer, smooth and soft and lacking an ounce of care for the potential danger it might send your Lieutenant in. You glance at his limp, hanging body with disinterest and blame your palpitating heart to the long and strenuous journey to the roof rather than something else. It couldn’t be anything else, you felt nothing but the aftermath of physical exertion. “Whether he lives or dies, it’s all the same to me.” You’re being truthful yet every single word wrestles with you fervently before being forced past your teeth. Strange and bothersome, but you pay it no mind. “If I return with your head my task is complete. Your death is my mission, casualties are inevitable.”

He doesn’t buy it.

“Let’s test that theory, shall we?” Graves sneers something vile and again points the remote at the crane, toying with you and relishing in it.

Your mask hisses loudly and is tossed on the concrete floor of the roof before you can realize what you’re doing. The lower part of your face – wet from the vapor of your breaths, soiled with a snarl. You don’t dare let the bastard out of sight now that the power dynamic has shifted in his favor.

“There you go. Good girl.” He coos at the sight of your unreluctant obedience and his smug features soften in near adoration. “Seems you still have a heart after all.”

Not fond of his degrading babying, you try to steer the conversation to another, much more vital topic that has been gnawing at your gut since the revealing of his presence.

“Why are you here? What business do you have with me?”

Graves, much to your surprise, obliges your question.

“A little birdie told me I’m being hunted by a whole new predator. A…special one this time.” He begins and motions for his men to make their way to his side, steering them to a safe distance from your vicious paws in case you snap despite the low odds. He reciprocates the eye contact, almost unblinking, not wanting to miss a beat from your uncanny demeanor. “That birdie also told me you have a habit of following orders only from your Lieutenant and I thought maybe…if I manage to string up the worm, I’ll get the fish.” His arms spread wide, his chest expands and you’re almost tempted to lunge forward. “And voila.”

“That’s not an answer to my question.” You cock your head at him and let your arms unfold and fall to your sides.

The corners of his mouth twitch at your disinterest.

“I wanted to see you in the flesh, Hound.” He answers then, changing from his grandiose façade to a genuine and less irritable one. Gesturing towards you, he continues. “Check if the rumors are true. And judging by the fact you even got to the roof – they certainly are.” His hands clasped together over his pelvis, the remote shining still between his fingers, yellow and menacing in contrast to his black cotton gloves. “Quite disgusting what they did to you. Wouldn’t you say?” The nearly heartfelt sympathy in his tone does little to sway your intentions and it shows clearly on your unmoving features. Yet he keeps going, keeps feeding you with conflicting thoughts that fail to take root in your mind. “Countless months of agony just to become a pawn.”

Despite the unpleasant memories flooding your head at his take, you hum and brush them aside without much effort.

“I consented to my augmentations.”

“That you did.” He nods and juts his jaw before flicking the blonde locks away from his eyes and slicking them back. “ For the chance of serving a greater purpose, not being someone’s lapdog and wasting your potential on lowly criminals.” Scorn drips heavily from his tongue, a hidden distaste for his own misfortunes showing, misfortunes much similar to yours. “But I won’t sway you yet. I can’t when your attention is so torn between me and your Lieutenant.”

Maybe his sympathy is sincere, you think. Maybe there’s an ounce of truth in his law-breaking, scummy ways and he sees you as much of a victim as he sees himself. It would make sense why he orchestrated this whole situation instead of simply trying to kill you and rid himself of you.

A part of you believes him, you can tell that bits and pieces of what he says come from a wronged man trying to take revenge for his pain. But you’re no simple soldier, you were built to withstand manipulation, torture, worse. You admit to his twisted honesty but have no intent in following after him and abandoning everything you’ve worked to build no matter how unimportant or unimpressive it was.

“You’re misinterpreting.”

The distinct beat of helicopter wings catches your attention far before the vehicle itself appears in the distance. Graves and his men’s ride, you presume, a quick escape after he got bored of your lack of subordination and bid you farewell.

“Am I?” He doesn’t dare to glance back, instead lets his ears assure him that his escape route is secured and is hastily approaching his location. “So far you’ve completed your tasks well.” A gloved thumb rubs over his freshly shaven jaw, before nudging his bottom lip up in contemplation as he sizes you up and down with a calculative look. “I have one last objective for you, though, just to test your limits. Figure out what I’m up against, you know?”

“I don’t take orders from you.” You hiss, expressing something more than monotony for the first time during your conversation.

His words had struck a nerve somewhere, surprisingly so, yet he took the opportunity regardless.

“This one you’ll have to.” He all but sighs, bored with your resistance and crackling unbothered demeanor. There’s too much peaking beneath it and he wants to sink his teeth into it, yet you continue to deny him. Whether from a lack of understanding over your emotions or a very bad attempt at hiding them, they were visibly showing through and he couldn’t get enough of it. “Tell me, do you think if you jump from this building you can survive?”

“Without my mask, it’s highly unlikely.”

A gust of wind sweeps by you and suddenly you’re painfully aware how it sways the rope Ghost hangs from, still and silent. Sweat forms on your brow, your hands curl into fists, blunt nails digging into the flesh of your palms and nearly drawing blood.

“Interesting.” He hums at your answer, nodding at the new information bestowed upon him – a weakness, a flaw in your design that your makers hadn’t been able to work out. This gave him a useful advantage against you. “So without a steady supply of oxygen, you’re rendered useless.”

“I can still rip you in half.” You declare and lean forward, arms dangling and ready to clutch at the floor and propel you forward. Your patience runs thin and Graves tastes it on his tongue, not much longer before you snap and dash either for him or the Lieutenant.

“Oh, I don’t doubt.” He laughs in your face like your threat means nothing and gestures for his men to board the helicopter before hopping on himself. He grips onto the side of the door and smiles bitterly at you. “Well, it’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance finally after such a long game of cat and mouse. I’m afraid we must be going now though.”

“Do you like hearing yourself talk?” A bark reverberates somewhere deep in your throat, akin to a growl as you lunge towards the helicopter.

No more talking, you’ve given him enough grace. Should have ended everything minutes before, forced yourself to move out of the stupor your Lieutenant’s state had pinned you in.

He doesn’t matter, nothing matters but Graves’ head, and like a scared mutt, you’d let him grow confident in his false influence over you.

“You know, you’re right. I’ve talked enough.” Venom oozes from his smirk as he spits one last taunt your way. “Fetch!”

You fail to realize why he’s so self-assured when you’re still capable of reaching him before the helicopter has lifted off. The slimy smirk doesn’t leave his face as he presses the button and turns away from you with a distinct “Ta!”. It’s sickening. Ghost matters not, your orders are clear and you’re sure the Lieutenant would understand the sacrifice you had to make were he in your stead. It’s a worthy sacrifice, he’d be honored after his demise, renowned for leading you to the den of the enemy for you to demolish and rid the world of their stain of an existence.

“You’re a fool if you think – ”

Your voice hitches as your body involuntarily turns away from Graves.

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING –

You dash across the rooftop and leap over the edge without a drop of hesitancy. A coil nestles in your stomach, not from the sight before you – a height so devastating, the street below so far that the cars look like mere pebbles, but at the thought of abandoning your prospect, disobeying a command, revolting against your upper command.

Too late to turn back now. And even if you could, would you?

No…

You adjust your limbs against the merciless wind, propel your arms forward like a diver about to hit the water's surface, your entire being flattened to endure as much resistance as possible and cut through the air. The cold whips against your eyes, blurs your vision with tears which you rapidly blink away to not lose sight of Ghost’s descending body.

Was it only the cold? Why were the tears so salty then?

Why was your face stuck in a desperate grimace of horror and hope?

Halfway across the building, you manage to snatch the rope around your Lieutenant’s waist. Your victory is shortlived as the earth beneath approaches steadfast and you bite into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and keep your head as cool as possible.

What now?

Even if he’s safely in your arms, you’re still heading for an inevitable death and thinking time is limited. You wrack your brain into turbo mode to come up with something, anything to save him, prevent his fall. The solution comes to you and it’s not all too pleasant, but without an alternative, you relent.

You thrust your arm through the glassy wall of the building, letting the shards shred through your skin, unable to exert your full potential without your mask. You try to regardless and your throat feels like it’s closing in on itself, you can’t breathe in enough air, the oxygen is not nearly the amount you need and you’re left suffocating slowly. Your hand mauls through cement floors and polished windows that shatter under the pressure as you desperately grapple for something, trying to slow your momentum.

Heart hammering in your throat, eyes wide with plea for something to work, for a miracle to happen, but it doesn’t. No fairytales allowed for the sinful and decrepit, for those who’ve abandoned their humanity for the betterment of civilization.

Pain doesn’t register on your features as your arm continues to endure in vain, shredded, sliced, battered to a pulp. But the horror registers when it shatters, the bone and flesh unable to withstand such detrimental amounts of damage, it’s rendered useless. It’s not the physical agony that terrifies you, but the only means of you saving the Lieutenant – now completely obliterated.

What now?

You think while your gaze darts from the bloodied, mangled mess that is your now worthless limb to the hastily approaching pavement below.

DO SOMETHING! ANYTHING! –

“Bloody f – ”

The once-lidded chocolate orbs you’ve grown to cherish look up at you – spastic, disoriented, glued to you as if you could explain your current predicament. You drown in them for a moment, pained, mournful that you’ve failed to fulfill both your duties.

Not a good hound. Fucking useless.

The prey got away, your keeper is soon to be a splatter of intestines on the ground below.

Good for nothing you are. Failed at everything. Can’t even save your own Lieutenant.

“Hound! Fucking hell, we – ”

Your jaw tightens, and your skin crawls once you’re close enough to discern the peculiar cracks in the sidewalk, you’re that close now. Doom, there’s nothing left but to die.

No. You refuse. If not for yourself, then for Ghost. You can’t lose him. You’ll sacrifice everything for him.

In a last attempt at being a hero, you struggle in the air, against the howling wind that screams bloody murder in your ears. You fiddle spasmodically, manage to clumsily maneuver both of you, deaf to the breathless curses slipping past his mask. You thrust him sideways, fling him into a window hard enough to make it give in under his weight. He breaks through back first, you hear him choke as he hits and skids on the carpeted floor with a deft thud.

You nearly smile, a contrast at his horrified expression as he realizes the situation – your maskless face, your bloodied limb, it’s only for a split second before you’re back to hurtling down without him. You hear a scream of your name, the intimate one, the real one.

Your eyes water anew, maybe from the air, maybe from him calling out to you in what sounds like spastic worry.

One good hand was all you needed.

You’re free now. You fulfilled your duty.

Everything hurts, you feel your entire being imprinted into the roof of a car, having squished it in the impact. Blood coats your tongue, your throat feels crushed. You’re choking for air quietly, your body desperately trying to repair all damages but failing because your mouth and nose can’t gulp enough oxygen no matter how greedily you’re breathing.

Sprawled out, the sky swirls high above your head, gazed at through blurry vision. Stars twinkle like smudged jewels, the moon is nowhere to be seen and for a moment you feel alone and at peace. It doesn’t matter that you’re molded into a random car with shattered bones and punctured lungs.

Maybe there are witnesses, maybe the streets are empty, you’re unsure, the screaming in your ears is punching at your eardrums and you can’t make out anything.

A peaceful death after years of war is what you wish for.

The cold creeps over your skin, through your gear, its caress soothing against your steaming flesh.

A splotch of creamy whine enters your vision, poking from one of the shattered windows. A skull mask, you recognize it even with both eyes and mind hazy and drunk on scalding pain. You’d reach out if you could, your first instinct demands you to do so, reach out to Ghost, reunite as leal hound and loving master once more. But you can’t, your body refuses to budge, a twitch of your fingers is all you can muster.

A cough rips through you, excruciating, and more stomach-churning iron rushes over your sticky tongue.

Will he remember you? Will he mourn you if you pass? Will he miss you? Will your absence leave yet another scar for him to nurture? Will he ever forgive you for sacrificing yourself for him?

Does it matter?

Not really…

But it does.

Somewhere deep within the crooks and crevices of your heart, it does matter to you, if only a little.

Your eyelids are heavy and you’ve not the strength to keep them open anymore. The chill air is so welcoming, lulls you and tugs you towards the comforts of slumber.

You hear a rasp, his voice echoing, deep and baritone as he disappears somewhere in the darkness.

You can’t stay conscious anymore no matter how desperately he begs you. You’re tired, just want to sleep, you’re aching, you want out of the pain, out of responsibilities and bloodshed.

This feels nice. Oblivion is welcoming.

The cold dissipates, and everything goes dark. You take one last meager breath and succumb to blackened dreams and fleeting pictures, sprawled vastly on the surface of your mind as your body gives out completely.

<<< Chapter 2

Chapter 4 >>>

Masterlist

#x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost cod #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #ghost x you

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 6 months

Text

Dark Moon | Chapter Eleven

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 2,7k

Warnings | 18+, a lot of guilt, beginning of Stockholm syndrome, blood, kidnapping, violence, insults and beatings, torture, hints of abuse and trauma, MC is bound with handcuffs, Jimin understands what to do, don't interact if you are a minor or the yandere genre is not for you.

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys ❤️ After the last chapter full of twists and turns, here is what happened next, let me know what you think, it is very important to me ❤️🥰

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal, @ajkwww, @ungodlyjoon, @hecateslittlewitchling, @namjoonsbuspass, @darkuni63, @xicanacorpse, @jiminismine4ever

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Chapter List - Previous - Next

It had been days, she could always hear someone in the house, someone leaving food behind the door, giving her time to take the food and then closing it again.

It was definitely one of Jimin's companions, it was nice that they didn't want to starve her, a little less that they didn't inform her about Jimin's condition.

Was he okay? Was he serious? Would he recover?

He was her kidnapper, he had separated her from her younger sister, he had bought and raped her, but she couldn't help thinking about him, she felt guilty, she felt like a monster. She thought she was better than him and then...

She shook her head, looking around.

It was a nice room, perfect for a young woman like her, he had not made her lack anything, she had no complaints about that, plus she did not have to lower herself for other men.

Maybe... maybe if she had accepted her new life earlier nothing bad would have happened, Jimin would not have forced her to take him like that and she consequently would not have stabbed him in that mental blackout she had locked herself in.

Now she was all about the unknown that made her legs shake.

She had a bath in her room, she had washed herself in panic, staring at the blood mixing with the water in the drain with horror, she still felt dirty despite all the showers she had taken, that memory would remain indelible in her mind forever.

Suddenly she became aware of other noises outside her room, at first she thought it was always the man's friends, but the voices they started to discuss were too loud, usually they were quite quiet, this time it seemed different.

She squinted at the door with a bad feeling in her stomach, she clutched at it more tightly as the handle began to jiggle, after all the room was closed and the Bangtans knew it, and now she was certain, it was not the Bangtans.

She nervously picked up the first object she came across, a frame depicting a sunset, and hid it behind her.

The doorknob stopped moving for a few moments, then a terrible thud made her wince with her heart in her throat.

The door opened slowly and fuck, she felt naked under the dark eyes of the two men who were squaring her from head to toe.

One of them whistled in surprise as he entered the room.

"From a locked door in Park Jimin's house, I expected money, weapons ... important documents, and instead we find a harmless, trembling little girl."

The comrade sneered, "Little girl? I only see Park Jimin's personal whore, bro," he also entered, coming dangerously close to her, who clutched her improvised weapon behind her back, "If he's keeping her here and not in that brothel it means she must have a magic pussy."

"He's got it all to himself," agreed, "What do you say, honey, you let us taste it? We won't hurt you."

"Go to hell, both of you," she huffed like a cat, causing the two men to laugh.

"After we disembowel you a little," he hummed, coming just close enough to make the young woman tense up in a bundle of nerves, she felt with disgust the man's breath on her neck, but it was not the right time. Even if she had hit him, the other was blocking the exit.

"Is that how you talk to a woman when you plan to fuck her?" she asked nauseatedly.

"Only when that woman opens her thighs to a human garbage like your man," that phrase directed at Jimin made her light up inside.

"Maybe you're referring to you and your partner," she spat acidly, the smiles disappeared from their faces, and soon the latter came dangerously close as well, slapping her in the face that for a few moments made her breathless.

"Watch what you say, for a prostitute you talk too much," he hissed, making her smile.

"And you for a thief are a real idiot," she said, leaving them interjected, but it didn't last long.

With a lightning snap of her arm she violently shattered a corner of the frame in the head of the first man who had approached, the sensation of an object in her hands penetrating the flesh of something alive was not new to her, the only difference was that she enjoyed listening to the screams of that swine, the companion from his side tried to grab her badly, but she ducked just enough to run out, toward the front door.

With relief she noticed that no one had changed the access code, she did not know how those two had managed to get in, but she still knew how to get out. She had mentally jotted down the code as Jimin used it to get out, remembering the movements of his fingers when he thought he was not seen, she had come to guess the sequence of numbers.

134340.

She ran out of the apartment amid the screams and curses of the two of them, looking around she noticed that everything had been meticulously cleaned of Jimin's blood, trying not to think about it because the idea almost made her lose her strength, she took the emergency exit again, this time she went through it, without anyone stopping her, everything was familiar and different at the same time.

She exited the building finding herself in the quiet and isolated neighborhood she had seen that first and only time, if she had followed the path perhaps she would have found someone who could-

"What?" she said before collapsing to the ground holding her head, she stared up wordlessly, a man older than her was staring at her with indifference.

He had hit her hard on the head, small white dots invaded her vision.

"Minhyun! Did you get her?!"

The man's face filled with annoyance, he turned to the other, who had previously been chasing her, reproachfully.

"Don't shout my name like that, you idiot."

"Sorry, but this bastard pissed me off, she broke Jae's head!" he said irritably, looking at her with hatred.

"Who would that be?" the older man did not seem to care about his colleague's condition, rather he was more interested in her.

"I don't know, I think she is the bitch who opens her legs for Jimin in the house."

The man named Minhyun smiled lasciviously.

"If she is the bitch I think she is, the boss will be very happy."

After that, Y/N definitely lost consciousness.

"I want to know everything about her, Namjoon.... Family ties, friendships, educational qualifications, every fucking thing."

"Jimin..."

"Even if she gave us a false name you still took blood from her and took her fingerprints when she arrived, didn't you? Use those to trace her family, they must live here, she and her sister were running from someone."

Maybe he had gone crazy, he just had to think about recovering since seeing himself in a hospital bed depressed him disgustingly, but he couldn't stop thinking about her and the last words they had said to each other.

Something bad must have happened to her to bring up such a trauma, a trauma that had caused her to alienate herself from reality, managing to hurt him in that way.

He was not the most empathetic person in the world, but he knew how to recognize the symptoms of past abuse, something that happened in childhood. Oh, he knew that kind of thing very well....

Namjoon for his part would have liked to beat up his friend, he was as pale as a corpse and the clinic uniform didn't really suit him, he still had machines attached to his body with tubes to measure his oxygen levels and the health of his physique in general, but even in that condition he hadn't stopped for a moment, barking orders to his comrades and intimating them not to touch that girl, and to take care of her during his absence.

"She almost killed you."

"That was not her intention," he replied confidently and determinedly, shocking the other man once again, "I forced my hand too much, her reaction was also all too understandable," he laughed bitterly, shaking his head; he had already had her by force several times, but that had been too much.

"Why do I have the feeling that if it had been someone else, you would have tortured and killed without thinking about it?"

Jimin did not answer, because it was all true.

Finally, the older man sighed wearily, "All right, I'll dig into her past even though the tests we do are only to see if the girls are healthy, not to spy on their past lives, and the fingerprints are only to find them in case they escape," he pointed out, as if to say that that would just be extra work.

"I thank you, Nam."

The latter made to leave the room, but the door was pushed open first by a rather nervous Jungkook.

"Jungkook? I didn't think you would come today, weren't you busy with your students?"

"Hyung..." there was guilt in his gaze, Jimin and Namjoon looked at him with confusion, "It's about Y/N, Taehyung hyung called and said she's missing" maybe it hadn't been a good idea to tell the person concerned, but they all knew that if Jimin didn't learn about it right away, he would create chaos.

Jimin, if possible, whitened even more than before, questions, thoughts and horrible scenarios began to swirl in his head.

"Did she escape? How did she do that?" asked Namjoon, astonished, but the younger man shook his head.

"There are signs of burglary in the house and the door handle of her room was broken from the outside to get in, Taehyung and his team also found a frame with blood on it."

Jimin's heartbeats increased exponentially, the machine signaled the sudden increase in the heart sequence, he was pissed, no, he was furious and fucking worried too.

"Jimin!"

"Get me out of here!" he exclaimed as he began to peel off all those tubes and the IV.

"Stop! You're not in the right condition to-"

"Now!" he thundered with a black abyss in his wide, crazed eyes, "Warn Seokjin, immediately! I want you to find her now, immediately!"

It was his fault, damn.

He had left her alone with his comrades, comrades who would rather see her die than look after her, he felt somehow lost.

Why?

Why would the idea that she might be hurt destroy him? What had happened to him during all that time they had spent together?

There was something about her that reminded him of himself, perhaps that was why he had raged so hard against her; she was naïve, weak, desperate, and broken, qualities that had doomed Jimin in the past, he hated weakness, and she should not allow herself to feel it, because she was surely like all the others, she was like that woman, and he could not allow himself to get involved with Y/N, even though she seemed the opposite of everything he had become accustomed to over the years to protect himself from feelings.

But he wanted now... he wanted to have her back in his arms, to hold her as he had never done before... why did he want to do all this just when the irreparable had happened?

It had all been wasted time, his piling on her because of his demons suddenly seemed like bullshit to him.

Namjoon saw that change and sensed how things really were. He, like the others, had witnessed what had happened to Jimin and how he had started to react to fight his demons, but Y/N was the exception, she made Jimin feel new emotions, emotions that his friend had always shied away from in the past, she was different.

"Jungkook, prepare your team as well, Choi Minho has crossed the line," he said harshly, the other nodded casting a cautious glance at Jimin. He held his head in his hands, not daring to show his face, otherwise they would have been all too clear about his torment.

"Welcome back among us, princess."

Y/N opened her eyes with difficulty, a terribly bright light was shot straight into her face, her wrists and ankles were burning, and her parched throat gave her no respite.

Shortly thereafter her lucidity returned and she finally became aware of her condition.

She was tied to a metal table, arms and legs immobilized in a position that made her at the mercy of everyone.

"Fuck you," was the first thing she said when she recognized Minho; it was only an instant and a fist slammed violently against her jaw, causing her to roll her eyes in the back of her head from the overwhelming, suffocating pain.

She had tasted Jimin's hands in more than one way, but never had his blows been so beastly.

She stood before a true heartless beast.

"Go away, Minhyun! You didn't mean to offend me, did you, love?" the smile on Minho's face contrasted with the stoic expression of the man who had managed to capture her, but Y/N knew, they were perfectly the same.

"Jimin will kill you," he said with difficulty, remembering the hatred that leaked out of the Moor when he had met Minho.

The latter snickered harshly.

"For a little bitch like you? Don't make me laugh," but Y/N shook her head bitterly.

She knew Jimin was not interested in her up to that extent; he himself was probably thinking about how to take her down, only to learn of her disappearance with a bored snort.

"No, not for me... You sent your people to his house, his territory, and if you remember correctly he didn't react in the best way when you showed up at the Dark Moon, let alone how he might react now," she giggled, a deep bruise was already taking shape on her abused face.

Minho lost his smile, "You seem to know him more than you want to admit, how about telling me more? Think about it, tell us about Jimin and the Bangtans, and I will give you back your freedom."

Crazy bastard.

She had traded her freedom for money, once at the Dark Moon you never leave it again except in a sack. The woman was not stupid, Minho's promises were the promises of a greedy, lying snake, but she would not be his Eve.

"I have nothing to say about that."

"We'll see about that, baby," with a fairly clear glance at Minhyun, Minho walked out of the place that was dark to her, but to which she would soon become accustomed.

"You made the wrong choice, bitch," the man said as he grabbed her throat, "Park Jimin must have trained you well, but you'll collapse with me," he hit her in the face again.

And then again, and again, and again.

She wriggled through her tears trying to dodge his blows that meanwhile came to injure every area of her body, her wrists and ankles continued to rub against the handcuffs until they flayed her thin skin, causing blood to spill.

She gasped for breath, gasped for air under those heavy and cruel hands, hands of a man who knew no mercy; she had already been under similar hands in her childhood and cried more for that wickedness.

She fainted and came to several times, each time with the same question breathed on her face.

"Where is Park Jimin?"

And each time always the same answer pushed between her teeth.

"Fuck you."

She imagined Jimin was at that clinic where she had been admitted, but she did not know the exact spot, and even if she did, she would not tell him.

Even if she was suffering worse than a dog, she would not give up the pleasure of ruining that monster's expectations.

"You really don't care about your life, do you?"

Y/N laughed with blood at her mouth, what life?

Had she ever had one in the first place?

She had lost her innocence too soon, snatched away by a man identical to Minhyun.

Y/N had been wrong; Jimin was not the monster.

"Perhaps using another method will convince you?"

Minho came out of the shadows of the room, had he entered when she was unconscious?

"I hate to see a beautiful woman in this condition," he sighed in annoyance before approaching further.

He lasciviously caressed the chest of the young woman, who was invaded by nausea immediately.

"We'll pick up where that bastard left off, okay?"

120 notes · View notes

yeonjuns-beanie · 1 year

Text

Party Monster

warnings: 18+, established relationship, smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, sex on someone else’s bed, marking, voyeurism, jealous dalton

summary: you convince dalton to go to a halloween frat party with you. after concluding that the party was nothing you thought it would be, you guys decide to make more of your experience.

a/n: im so sorry for this taking so long, life got in the way and i was suffering from such terrible writer’s block. i hope i did your ask justice! i may be a little slower when it comes to requests n stuff now due to uni starting up and me working on another fic atm. anyways, i hope you enjoy and have a great day/night! ~nero

word count: 6.8k

dalton lambert x female reader

“You have got to be kidding me?”

Dropping your shoulders in defeat, you looked up at the ceiling before stomping over to Dalton similar to that of a three year old. Grabbing his hands, it urged him to look up at you, only to be met with a pout that you knew was his weak spot.

“C’mooon. I think it would be fun! At the very least, we can people watch and make fun of the morons there.”

“Oh, and be just as bad as them?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, knowing Dalton was getting a kick out of using your words against yourself.

“Besides, I can’t imagine Nick would want to see me anymore this semester.”

That was your in. That’s how you can get him to go.

“Okay, but it’s a costume party. We can put you in makeup or you could wear a stupid mask or something and they literally won’t know that it’s you. Pleaseee, Dalton. I think it would be fun.”

It was Dalton’s turn to sigh now. He had already given in when you asked in the first place he just enjoyed giving you a hard time. He liked knowing you wanted him. It filled him with that warm fuzzy feeling that had him battling cuteness aggression every waking second, but also had him warding off feelings that were much more indecorous.

“Fine, we can go. But what are we gonna be?”

Squealing in excitement, you ripped your hands out of his and brought them up to cup his face, placing multiple kisses on his lips. Pulling away you thanked him profusely, needing to express not only your excitement but your gratitude for him tagging along with you.

“I’m glad you asked. I was hoping you’d be okay with Tiff and Chucky?”

Dalton didn’t say anything he just looked at you. A look that was hard to discern. You couldn’t tell if he hated the idea or was thinking of something else. Dalton was quick to ease your mind as he finally spoke.

“You mean, that asshole gets to look at you looking all sexy?”

Your brows furrowed, “What asshole?”

“Nick.”

“Ohhh.”

Moving away from in front of Dalton, you flopped on his bed next to him, your arms starfishing across the mattress. You smiled to yourself trying to lessen it by rolling your lips around your teeth. Taking the hand closest to Dalton, you raised it up and ghosted slowly over his back.

“Well, it’s not like Nick gets to touch me. He can only look.”

Dalton rolled his head dramatically to look down at you, trying his damnedest not to give in to your antics. Looking down at you though, he could never hold his moue for as long as he wanted to. All of his other emotions of lovesick admiration overshadowed his feigned annoyance.

“Not like it makes it any better.”

Sighing, you sat up on the bed and moved to straddle Dalton. Cupping his face, you held eye contact with him that was so intense it would probably make any other person crumble. With Dalton though, you could see the hearts forming in his eyes as you stared him down. A softer, more pouty version of possession swimming in his irises.

“You know I only want you right? No amount of staring, flirting, or whatever could take me away from you.”

You didn’t give him a moment to respond, flushing your lips against his in a kiss that was nearing the edge of searing. You found it endearing how small flashes of his possessiveness would flare up at the mere thought of someone else taking you in. It made you feel wanted and it lit a fire in you every time it happened. His jealousy was silent, brooding, and somewhat submissive but always present.

Dalton’s hands roamed the sides of your body as he melted into your kiss. Soaking up every bit of you any chance he got. As the kiss became more heated, your hands wandered down to his collarbone slowly snaking their way to the nape of his neck and tangling your fingers in his sandy brown locks. Dalton’s hands landed on the rough fabric of your pants, finding enough play in the material to knead the plush fat of your ass.

Puppeteering your body in his hands, he rolled your hips against his and you could feel the small tent forming in his pants. Pulling a small muffled moan from you, you pulled away in an attempt to catch your breath as well as to cool down the now sexually charged atmosphere. Dalton peered up at you, eyes blown.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Cause we have to go shopping for our costumes and if we don’t stop now we won’t stop.”

Standing up from his lap, you began to walk over toward your bag to signal your urgency to leave. But before you could take a full step forward, Dalton wrapped his fingers gingerly around your wrist and pulled you back toward him.

“What if I don’t wanna stop?”

“Daltonnn.”

He was staring at you so smugly. You knew what he was doing and you knew you had to be stronger this one time. You couldn’t give in or you definitely weren’t leaving his dorm for the rest of the day.

“C’mon baby, we can finish what we started when we get back. But the party is tomorrow and I don’t want us to have to get all our shit tomorrow.”

Dramatically groaning, Dalton lifted himself to his feet and waited for your cue to leave. Grabbing your bag, you turned around to look up at him. A made up tune forming with your words.

“Love youuu.”

Dalton hummed and rolled his eyes, kissing your forehead in response. Grabbing his hand, you guys left his dorm and you pulled out your phone to order an Uber to the nearest Halloween store. Walking towards one of the main parking lots on campus, you placed your pick up spot and waited.

With only a few minutes passing by, the car pulled up and the two of you climbed into the backseat. Buckling yourself in, Dalton’s hand quickly found purchase on your lower thigh rubbing gently on the inner side of it.

The ride to the Halloween store was short which you were thankful for because you weren’t sure how much longer you could ignore Dalton’s hands on you. Thanking the driver, you got out of the car a sudden rush of excitement coursing through you as you looked at the building in front of you. You had many pleasures in life but one of the ones that you cherished the most was the popup Halloween shops. The joy you had centered around Halloween never failed to make you feel like a kid all over again and you wished you could feel this way for more than just the first half of the fall season.

Walking into the store, you almost forgot Dalton was tailing behind you as your excitement dragged you through the store wanting to browse through all the new items that were featured in this year’s lineup. Noticing the Halloween section, you saw a sweatshirt that you simply couldn’t ignore. There were homages to the movie adorning the sleeves and the front and back of the sweatshirt.

“This is so cool!”

Dalton came up behind you, taking the sweatshirt into his own hands.

“Yeah, it is.”

Trailing down the sleeve of the pullover you found the pricetag and hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t that it was too expensive, you just decided you would come back and get it after you got paid because you knew you needed more than a few things for your matching costumes first. Walking away you motioned for Dalton to follow you to the section you needed, but what you didn’t see was Dalton grabbing the sweatshirt as you turned around, his own plan in motion.

As you guys circled the store one last time, you decided that you had everything and made your way to the checkout. You went up first laying out all your items and Dalton was called up to the other cashier. Getting your bag full of items, you walked over to Dalton and he was grinning at you as you guys walked out of the store. You didn’t realize how much time you guys spent in there until you were met with the colors of dusk painting the sky. Focusing your attention on Dalton again you cocked your head.

“What is it?”

Reaching into his bag, he pulled out the top half of the Halloween pullover you were looking at. Your eyes widened a delighted shock not expecting that to be the reason behind his grin.

“Dalton! You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

“I was gonna come back and get it next week.”

“Well, what if they don’t have it next week? Now, you’ll for sure have it.”

You stepped closer to hug him, thanking him as you nestled into his frame. Pulling away from him, Dalton motioned over to one of the food joints in the shopping center that you were in and you both decided that you should grab something before you headed back to campus. As you guys were waiting for your food, you ordered another Uber so that by the time your food would be ready, you’d be able to get in the car relatively immediately.

Your timing was impeccable because right as you guys walked out, your ride pulled up right out front. Laying your bags in the backseat first, you and Dalton filed in after making sure to hold everything in your laps. Getting back to campus, you suddenly felt a wave of tiredness wipe over your body. Dropping your bags by the door, you set the bag of food on the small table in the back of his dorm. You guys ate in a comfortable silence and you relished in the domestic nature you were sharing.

Wiping your hands off with a napkin, you threw your empty container back in the plastic bag and leaned back in your chair. Dalton mimicked your movements and a small smile crossed his face as he looked over at you warmly.

“Wanna just sleep here tonight? You look pretty tired.”

Closing your eyes, you nodded contently.

“Can I wear one of your shirts?”

“Course you can.”

Helping yourself to one of his drawers, you found one of his oversized shirts and changed. Leaving your clothes in a pile on the other bed in the room. Climbing into his bed, you made yourself more than comfortable in his space, wrapping yourself in his blankets. Bending your head to look back at him, you were met with a soft closed mouth smile.

“I’m coming.”

Nodding, you slowly let sleep blanket itself over your eyes and body and drifted away to a place of peace. If only you knew the reason why he didn’t immediately follow behind you was just so he could admire your soft form as you slept. So that he could keep the mental image of his forever ingrained in his mind. Somehow, his body reacted before his mind and he found himself sketching the image in front of him. Believing that the only way he could truly savor the moment in front of him was to immortalize it with charcoal and a piece of paper.

~*~

As you woke up the next morning, the sun that peeked through the window was a little warmer than usual signaling to you that you most definitely slept in and missed your class. As your sleep ridden body moved to wake up a little further, your face nudged against Dalton’s body. Your moving around rustled Dalton out of his sleep and as he slowly blinked his eyes open he muttered a small morning and rolled back onto his side. You chuckled to yourself,

“I'm almost positive it's past noon, but yeah good morning.”

Worming around Dalton’s body, you crawled out of bed and walked over to the table to swipe through all of your notifications on your phone. Seeing the time, you surely had enough time to make it to your next class, but you awarded yourself the liberty of skipping. Your justification was that you hadn’t missed one class this semester so one day wouldn’t kill you.

As you put your phone down, you noticed the sketch laying idly on the desk. Taking a closer look at it, you realized it was of you. A soft expression displayed across your face as something warm and similar to muffled elation glowed in your chest. Dalton pushed himself up from the bed yawning and not yet realizing that you had seen the drawing. Walking over to Dalton you gave him a quick hug and announced your leave, grabbing all your things before you headed to the door.

You wanted to give yourself enough time to get ready and not feel rushed, knowing that every time you got ready you never really stayed on track. Catching strays from time blindness, breaking out in song and dance, and the irresistible urge to just lay down in your bed midway through. Walking through the halls of Dalton’s dorm, you made your way across to the other dorm building, taking the elevator up to your floor.

Making your way into your room, you immediately flopped on the bed, mentally taking note that you’d start getting ready in half an hour. Scrolling on your phone, you blinked those 30 minutes away, groaning as you forced yourself to start your routine. Every time you got ready to go out somewhere, you always wondered if you actually enjoyed the whole ordeal. You always came to the same conclusion, you did, you just hated the process.

From the attention you garnered from whatever outfit you conjured up, to deciding what asset of your body you’d accentuate or the makeup you decided to do, you’d be lying to say you didn’t enjoy it all.

Hours ticked by and the sun began to tuck its bright body behind the mountains as you added the finishing touches to your makeup. Dotting a beauty mark above your lip, you glance over your face feeling more than satisfied with the outcome. Digging through the plastic bag, you pulled out all the items you got the night before. Pulling your fishnets over your plush thighs, you admired your curves staring back at you on the mirror you had hanging off your door.

Grabbing the white tutu, you shimmied it over your hips and you felt a certain wave of excitement flood through you as you wrapped your body in the white corset. You fixed your boobs so that they were bordering on spilling out of the top, and cinched the waistline as much as you could so that it still snatched your waist but allowed you the freedom to breathe.

You were pulled out of the trance of admiring yourself as you heard your phone vibrating on your bed. You had a few messages from Dalton, the last one asking if you could help him with his hair. Responding to him, you slipped into your platform Doc Martens and threw all of your essentials for the night in a small clutch that you knew you wouldn’t lose. Shutting off the light in your room you made the short walk over to Dalton’s building, basking in all of the eyes that were ogling your form. There were a few low whistles and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

Knocking on Dalton’s door, you were staring at the floor when the door opened. As his eyes landed on you, they widened and quickly he attempted to rest them trying to contain his thoughts. Looking up as the door opened you smiled at him, excited to see him in his costume and his makeup mostly done. Walking into the room, you set your stuff down on his bed.

“So what did you need help with?”

Dalton didn’t say anything, but the shaking of the colored hairspray can made you turn around.

“I didn’t think I could make it even if I did it myself.”

You motioned toward the desk so he could sit down and you could help him with his hair. Taking fairly large pieces, you sprayed the color a little further than normal so that the color wouldn’t crunch and cake around his strands of hair. You got a little closer with color when you sprayed his roots framing his face. Feeling complete with your job, you now settled for dramatics just spraying randomly and not really on his hair just more in the air.

“Viola!”

Dalton stood up and seeing him in his full attire was doing something to your brain. The bloodied stitches on his face, the ragged nest you turned his hair into, and the bloody knife he had curled in his fingertips. Albeit, plastic and very much fake, all of the details were unlocking something in your brain that you didn’t pay much attention to until this very moment. His voice pulled you from your thoughts before they got too detailed in the lewd direction they were going.

“Do I look ok-hey I know that look.”

You shook your head so lightly that it could’ve been mistaken as a twitch but Dalton knew better.

“I take it you like it then?”

He walked over toward you, wrapping his hands around your waist to bring you closer. With the loss of space between you two, it was hard to move your gaze anywhere else but him. Feeling stuck under his gaze, the smugness on his features was becoming grossly aware to you and you opted to push him away dramatically, not ready to admit your truths to him.

“C’mon, we should get going anyway. I don’t want it to be too crazy when we get there.”

Grabbing your bag and his hand, you headed way for the door and made your way out of the building. With the sun now gone and night fully taking over the sky, the slight chill of the October air made itself very known to you thanks to your lack of clothing. As you neared the frat house, you could feel the bass of the music almost rattle the earth beneath your feet. There was a slew of people out of the front lawn, people congregating on the front balcony of the house, and some poor bastard was hunched over in a set of bushes meeting his demise quite early in the night.

As you and Dalton reached the front lawn, a frat member was holding a tray of what looked like jello shots.

“Care for a brain?”

You glanced at the small plastic cup and were genuinely surprised to see such effort put into a jello shot. Let alone for it to have been made by a bunch of meathead college bros. Not even thinking twice, you grabbed a shot and tongued the jello out of the cup making an obnoxiously loud slurp when it fully separated from the plastic and plopped in your mouth.

What you didn’t notice was the jaundiced glare your boyfriend was giving the frat member as the boy frantically switched between your tits which were on the verge of spilling out and the way you were tonguing the shot. Putting the cup back on the tray, you looked at the boy through your lashes silently telling him that you knew exactly what you were doing and there was nothing he could act on because your boyfriend was hanging off your arm.

Looking back to Dalton, you motioned for him to grab a shot as well.

“Make sure you grab one, babe. Might be the only thing we get our hands on.”

Dalton softened his gaze at the sound of your voice but still, he didn’t drop his focus off the frat boy. Picking up the plastic, he began to take a step forward, but you nailed yourself in place still stuck on the boy. Your voice was dripping in satin lust, wanting to sweeten up the boy and rile up Dalton to get him right where you wanted him.

“Mind if I take another one?”

This time the boy gave you a very animated nod as his gaze flickered behind you in the direction of Dalton. Turning around, you saw nothing out of the ordinary so you picked up another cup and squeezed the boy on his bicep.

“Thank you…?” you paused, waiting for him to give you his name.

“...Chase!”

“Thank you, Chase.”

Now Dalton was pulling you toward the entrance of the house, wanting to be anywhere else than where Chase was. He knew people would look at you, how could they not? You were strikingly beautiful and of course, you looked even more tantalizing when you had yourself done up with makeup and an outfit that would leave anyone speechless. The problem lied with Dalton not being able to fight that feeling in his chest when he was watching someone else take you in for only a fraction of what you were worth to him. They didn’t deserve to look at you in such a way.

As you reached the stairs of the house, you halted your body again to stop Dalton in his tracks. When his arm jolted back with you only then did he turn around and you saw all the emotions swarming his mind and face. Pulling him closer to you, you brought his hand up that was still holding the small plastic cup.

“Take it, might ease your nerves for a little bit.”

Punctuating your words with a feather light kiss on his lips, you watched his shoulders relax as he took a deep breath and brought the cup to his mouth, tonguing the jello out the same way you did. As you watched him you felt a familiar pang of need squeeze between your thighs but you quickly ignored it, not wanting to leave so soon. Dalton scrunched his face at the taste of the alcohol and tossed the cup somewhere in the grass. Frowning he looked at you.

“How did you drink that so easily, tasted like straight acid!”

Looking down at the second cup you grabbed you thought he was being dramatic. This time as you removed the jello from the cup, you kept your eyes on Dalton the whole time. Your eyes holding a vampish intent. Tossing the cup in the same direction once you emptied it, your eyes blew wide in surprise as you swallowed.

“The first one did not taste like that, what the fuck?”

You coughed, trying to get the harsh taste out of your mouth. Looking toward the front door, you realized there was probably some type of punch inside that would drown on the existing taste.

“Let’s go in.”

When you and Dalton pushed through the corridor of the house the music rattled your chest, there were lights strung up on every possible place. Little ghosts and pumpkins lighting up the room with an ambient orange color. As you pushed through the people you found the kitchen and a massive tub full of red liquid and various fruits. A stack of red solos was next to it and you poured both you and Dalton a glass, filling yours to the brim while his still had a little room.

Guzzling down half of your cup, you refilled a bit more before you motioned for you and Dalton to move to the main room where it was a pile of bodies moving against each other in tandem with the music that was bouncing off the walls. Dalton was slowly sipping away at his drink while you downed another half of your drink finally feeling the combinations of alcohols course through your system.

You moved closer to Dalton so now your bodies were right on top of each other and you moved to the varying beats. The more you moved, the closer you got to grinding on him, and the more prominent the pool in your underwear was getting harder to ignore.

You wrapped one arm around his neck, bringing his head down to meet your forehead and your lips ghosted one another’s causing your breathing to get a little heavier with want. Dalton pulled away from you and yelled out over the music.

“I’m gonna go refill!”

Nodding, you took his wrist as one was holding the cup and the other was occupied by his prop knife. Reaching the kitchen again, you left your cup on the counter leaving the remaining contents in it up for grabs for whoever wanted it. With each step you took back to the kitchen you felt yourself straying further from your inhibitions and becoming more acquainted with your bodily desires.

As Dalton filled his cup up halfway, you clung your body to his from behind. Wrapping your hands around his waist, you let one of them ghost over the front of his overalls, your hand sliding right across his dick. You felt Dalton stiffen up at the action and you would’ve continued but a whistle from behind you caught your attention.

Standing up straight, you turned around and your eyes met Nick’s in a half assed Dracula costume. With his plastic party fangs dangling off his index finger you realized he was the one that cat called you over the music. In your drunken daze, you failed to realize the way you were hanging off of Dalton gave anyone behind you a perfect view of your fishnet clad ass peeking out from your tutu. You felt Dalton straighten up behind you, his hand coming to rest on your hip.

“Well, what do we have here?”

You couldn’t help the way your face moved when you were drunk. It was involuntarily submissive. Your eyebrows constantly furrowed upwards, your eyes were always wide trying to hide how inebriated you were, and your lips were always slightly parted. When Nick approached you two, you gazed at him in a way that any sober person would confuse for interest.

“You’re a pretty little doll, aren’t ya?”

You felt Dalton’s hand tighten on your waist as if you were gonna run away from him. You tried to pretend like you weren’t as drunk as you were but your body outran your mind. Within seconds you were overly smiley with Nick, responding probably too excitedly for Dalton.

“You think so?! I thought I made a very pretty doll too. But! I wouldn’t be such a pretty doll if it weren’t for my Chucky.”

You turned your body almost posing for Nick and his friends as you placed your hands flat on Dalton’s chest and looked behind you. Your eyelids grew heavy with want while you flaunted you and your boyfriend off. Turning back to face them you pointed to your chest, putting a spotlight on the fake ‘Chucky’ tattoo you drew hours before.

“See, I’ve got his name on me forever too!”

Nick and his friends erupted into a fit of giggles at your drunken displays of affection but Dalton was not enjoying a single second of it. Wondering if you were doing this on purpose or if it really was just you having lost all sober obligations. Dalton again put his hand on your hip and squeezed your side trying to discreetly get your attention. Whipping your head back in his direction his plans were foiled.

“What is it, baby?”

Dalton awkwardly laughed and shook his head saying that it was nothing. But the quick flash of attention on him allowed Nick to recognize who your “Chucky” actually was.

“How did you get in here again dude?”

For the first time in this entire interaction, Dalton finally piped up.

“It’s not like you have a bouncer at the front door.”

“Maybe I should if it means your weird ass is gonna keep coming around.”

Shaking your head, you started waving your hands in the air to get the two men's attention off of each other. Stepping closer to Nick so you wouldn’t have to yell anymore, you smiled as you spoke.

“I promise, no weird shit tonight! He honestly didn’t even wanna come, but I made him tag along with me.”

Stepping back toward Dalton, Nick snuffed extra air through his nose, and a tight lipped smile spreading across his lips, he spoke again his attention focused on you.

“At least you’re prettier than his last one. Don’t know if I could stand looking at two clowns again. Even if it would be fitting for tonight.”

Again a chorus of almost robotic giggles came from his surrounding friends and suddenly your good mood was bruised by his insult.

“Have fun tonight then, the both of you. Especially you, dollface.”

Nick ended his words by taking his thumb and index finger to raise your face to look up at his before he walked away. A scowl took place of his previous smile as he leveled out his gaze to be face to face with Dalton. As Nick and his friends disappeared into the crowd you turned around to Dalton suddenly feeling kind of gross after Nick touched you. The lasting bit of the interaction sobered up your mind just enough to where you could feel the change in Dalton’s energy.

Dalton quickly chugged the rest of what was in his cup, needing a little more liquid courage to power him through what he was about to do. Setting the empty cup on the counter, you placed your hands on his shoulders trying to not only stable yourself but also to get a gauge on his vibe. When Dalton finally looked at you, you could tell he was pissed. So when he grabbed your hand and began dragging you through the crowds of people you assumed it was because he wanted to leave. But when he took you to the staircase your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Where are we going?”

You were met with silence. And as fast as Dalton was moving through the house, you were close to tripping over your own feet. When you reached the top of the staircase, Dalton made a beeline to the bedroom at the end of the hallway. Opening the door, he left it wide open as he pulled you inside mumbling to himself.

“Can’t believe he touched you.”

Looking around at the walls you realized you were in Nick’s bedroom.

“What?... Dalton, why are we in Nick’s room?”

You waddled over to Dalton wrapping your arms around him. Beginning to speak, he cut you off as he gently brought his hand under your chin, your eyes being hypnotized by his own.

“Baby, why are we-

“-We’re in his room because I want him to think about this every time he lays his head down.”

Before you had a chance to question what he meant, Dalton had rushed his lips onto yours, suffocating you with his need. Surprised by his sudden movement, you grabbed onto him, your hands docking on either side of his face deepening the kiss.

Dalton walked your bodies backward so that your knees would buckle once they hit the edge of Nick’s bed. As your body fumbled onto the mattress, Dalton leaned you back caging you underneath him. You moved your body backwards to the center of the bed and Dalton followed your lead. He broke your kiss only to start a lecherous assault on your neck. Letting your head roll back, you leaned into the feeling of his lips on your body.

Every time his lips left your skin, they left a raging fire in its wake that sent rapid signals to your core. Reminding you, that your feelings were being wildly amplified by the amount of alcohol rushing through your system. You didn’t have the capacity to control the moans that were evading your mouth you were just completely soaked in the feeling of Dalton. As Dalton trailed his body down to the valley of your breasts, he slowly unhooked each latch of your corset watching how your soft, plush skin escaped the confines of the fabric. His hand drew a line down from your collarbone to your sternum before tracing a path around your tit, slowly teasing around the sensitive skin. Before you had the chance to whine about the lack of feeling, his fingers pinched and rolled your nipple while his mouth encased the other one.

Rolling your hips up to his, you felt his hardened cock brush against your clothed heat. Your breathing escalated, the adrenaline of the brewing carnality becoming more apparent to you as you lost yourself in the feeling. Your hand webbed itself in Dalton’s hair feeling the tackiness of the hairspray stick itself to your fingers. Dalton popped off your nipple, a string of spit following his mouth leaving a brisk chill on your skin as the string broke and settled onto your skin.

He placed kisses along your chest but they slowly turned into bites and the closer Dalton got to your neck, the more the bites turned into hickeys. Bright red markings identifying you as undoubtedly his.

“Dalton, I need you.”

Dalton pulled away from you to take in your lust stricken form, admiring you in such an obscene way. As your eyes found his, you could make out how dilated his pupils were even in the low light of the bedroom. Leaning up to kiss him, your hands traveled to the buckles of his overalls unhooking them with ease as you slid the rest of the fabric down as much as you could.

You grabbed the bunch of fabric and used it to pull him closer to you so that you could feel some type of friction from his bulge that was being hidden. Breaking the kiss, you needed to vocalize your need for him because he wasn’t moving fast enough for you.

“Baby, please. I-

“You think he knows how to fuck you like I do?”

In your coveted daze, you didn’t register who ‘he’ was right away. If anything you had forgotten about Nick and your interaction with him entirely once he walked away from you two. Your lack of response drove Dalton to become impatient, allowing himself to be overcome by his jealousy.

“Flirting with him like that. You think he could make you feel as good as I do?”

Dalton was dry humping you, making it all the more difficult to form a coherent response for him as you were being influenced by your own lubricity.

“I-I wasn’t fl-flirting with him, I swear!”

“Sure, you flashing him this tattoo on your tit wasn’t flirting.”

You were tripping over your own words, unable to form a believable excuse. You didn’t want to give up the fact that maybe, everything you did tonight was on purpose. To have Dalton rough you up a bit and make you feel small with his need for you. His voice ripped you from your thoughts letting new ones take place.

“And you did it in front of me, little slut. You knew it’d get me like this, didn’t you?”

You couldn’t bare the waiting or interrogation any longer. You need him to touch you. You needed to feel him on you, inside of you, you just needed him. So you confessed.

“Yes! I did, I did. I just wanted you to remind me that I’m yours. I need you so bad.”

Dalton let his overalls slide down to his mid thigh and he removed his underwear just enough so that his rosy tipped cock could spring free. Your cunt fluttered around nothing as your eyes landed on it, fantasizing already about the feeling. Dalton snaked his finger down to your slit, swiping up to graze across your clit and your body shuddered at the feeling. Squeezing around nothing yet again.

“You’re soaked, baby. Getting off on me being mean, yeah?”

“Fuckk! Yes. Please, I need you inside of me Dalton. Only you.”

You were so horny that you were about to start grinding against the air to just imagine something subsiding your wanton ache between your legs. Maybe it was the begging, maybe it was the mental connection you shared with him but suddenly, Dalton grabbed your legs and dragged you to the edge of bed. His fingers tangled themselves in your fishnets ripping a hole right at your crotch. Pulling your panties to the side he teased his cock at your entrance.

“You want it?”

“So fucking bad, baby.”

Out of instinct, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he slowly slid himself into your hot, seductive cunt. The stretch of his cock was sapid and had you rolling into his hips trying to fuck yourself on him discreetly. Your back was arched and your nails were digging into the sheets so tightly that you thought you heard a rip. When Dalton bottomed out inside of you your moans were at full volume, most certainly echoing off the walls of the room, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care seeing as the music downstairs was so loud. Dalton set a pace that was feral and unrelenting, your pussy clenching erratically as the tip of his cock abused that soft rigid spot inside of you.

As your moans grew in frequency, Dalton leaned down into your neck sucking more hickeys into your skin that wasn’t already tainted. Your hands left the bed and opted to curl your fingers into Dalton’s shoulder, his shirt protecting him from the crescent moons your nails would’ve left. He could feel that you were arriving at the peak of your arousal, picking up his speed, you two were torn from each other as a voice bellowed into the room.

“What the fuck!”

Dalton didn’t stop moving, but when your eyes landed on Nick standing in the doorway of his bedroom you couldn’t stop your body from the overwhelming rapture it felt as you jumped headfirst into ecstasy. Your body was twitching in ardor, your saintly cunt squeezing around Dalton as your eyes flickered between the two men. Dalton turned around to Nick, a sense of dominance that you’d never felt from him before dripping from his tongue.

“Thought you’d want to see your doll laid out on your bed–what’s wrong? Wish it was you instead?”

Dalton cracked a smile that was so dissolute and prurient that it removed you from all resolve to retain any form of modesty. Your cunt begging for more. Your hand reached up grabbing at Dalton’s shirt and you whined out for him, making a spectacle for Nick.

“Fuck me again. Please please, Dalton. I need it, I need to feel you cum inside of me. Paint me as yours.”

Dalton smiled at you as he felt your walls fluttered around him as you begged.

“Yeah? You like him watching me ruin you?”

You nodded frantically too fucked out to form anything clearly besides a needy ‘please’. Dalton began fucking you again and as you looked down to watch his cock rush in and out of you, your head fell back into the bed. Opening your eyes, you glanced over at Nick who was still frozen in the doorway. You raised your hand to wave goodbye to him with just your fingers, but before the sentiment could be registered, Dalton pulled out of you and flipped you onto your hands and knees.

“Stop entertaining him. One cock not good enough for you?”

His hand found purchase on the back of your neck, pushing your face into the comforter your lipstick definitely staining the fabric. Dalton continued to piston out of you, but as his thrusts became more unsteady you knew his climax was near. You couldn’t see but Dalton turned around again to see Nick walking back into the hallway and as soon as he was out of his sight you felt his hot seed flood your walls.

As Dalton pulled out of you, he rolled your body over onto your back so that he could engulf you in a searing kiss. He slid your panties back over to cover you fully and allowed you to sit up so that you could stuff yourself back into the corset. Fixing himself into his clothes he kissed the top of your head.

“Now when he sees us walk out, you’ll still have me inside of you.”

You felt a different heat rush up to your face that wasn’t from the alcohol. You sighed and when you looked up Dalton had his hand out for you.

“Let’s go home?”

You nodded.

“Yeah.”

Following behind Dalton, you let him lead you out of the house. When you made it out to the front steps you saw Nick leaning against the house staring out to the lawn. When you passed by him he looked up as you turned around to face him. A wide grin spread on your face as you waved to him knowing there was no way you could worm your way back in that house ever again.

#dalton lambert smut #dalton lambert imagines #dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert fanfic #insidious the red door #horror smut #insidious smut #insidious fanfic #horror fanfiction

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valentine-cafe · 5 days

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What if reader was avoiding your scary ocs and when they were in the same space like, tried to smile but ended up looking/walking away. their voice was meak and hushed and they tried to not inconvenience your ocs, so they naturally think that Oh, reader is scared of them, what else is new?only for someone to point out the real reason being "actually they've got a big fat crush on you" ???

. ˚◞♡ 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉 𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔◞ ₊˚

𖹭. in which you start avoiding the scary characters because you have a crush on them /gn reader

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ HERRERA HUSBANDS 209 ꒱ at first they would be quite amused by your seeming fear towards them. following you around and meeting you at all different corners of the city or jìngyí’s clinic. ushering you to a lounge to speak with them to see the way you would try to deflect each and every question asked with meak and mumbled words.

then, when one of their assistants approached them one day. after you had just gone home from your appointment. he can’t help but snicker a bit at their bosses while shaking their head.

“you both are intelligent but oblivious. they are not scared of you they are in love. you can see it in the way they get flustered when you speak to them, fiddling and looking everywhere.”

and for a moment the room went quiet, the scientist and doctor slowly look at each other. before back at the assistant. only for the husbands to excuse themselves to rush after you like two feral and excited animals.

snake monster x reader, mad doctor x reader, spider-moth-mantis x reader, mad scientist x reader, yandere x reader, villains x reader

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ XĪYÁNG 9819 ꒱ often doesn’t have time for such. when someone is scared of him, he takes no time to bother. often too focused on his work. though curious he is to admit why you in particular is so quick to shy away from him.

you’re an intern at the syndicate, he’s seen your skills, he’s seen the way you interact with the crew. yet with him you show so much fear. your respect outweighs it, but your fear of him certainly is strong.

it wasn’t until his girlfriend noticed your behavior around him that he found out was going on. as she snickered and gave him a little elbow to his side.

“you don’t recognise the lovesick looks?” she hums, giving you a little wave from afar and watching as you turned away with a face flaring up redder than a tomato.

“oh—” is all that’d reach your ears as the realisation kicked in for the mercenary leader.

grim reaper x reader, mercenary leader x reader

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ALESSIO 1311 ꒱ you were one of the bartenders at the club he’d perform at with his band most often. and oh those sweet little mumbled out voice you got when he was close to you made him chase for you each time.

he had a sadistic side to him that adored when people feared him. though that was usually only with humans. and he was curious as to why you, a pretty little thing in the sector would be so flustered and scared around him.

your small and hurried responses would make him itch with a want for you to talk more, watch you ease up around him.

he had no clue that it was not fear you felt, but that insufferable lovesick, crushing feeling in your heart each time he caught your eyes from across the room.

“this person. head over heels for you,” one of your coworkers at the bar would mutter to him one time when you were on break. and only then did it really hit him that you had a crush.

he was quick to rush to the back of the club to fluster you a bit more and give his own little piece of mind on how he felt.

rockstar x reader, enigma x reader, mercenary x reader

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ JÌNGYÍ 1311 ꒱ would probably actually catch on before he was told by someone what exactly was going on. though uncertainty had kicked in at some of your most recent responses to your conversations with him.

he just needed a sort of confirmation to be sure he wasn’t taking anything the wrong way.

so he observed how you acted with other people around you, cornering you at times to see how you talked to him and then leaving you, following you around to none of your knowledge to observe even more.

and when it hit him you were very different with other people around you he tried to put the puzzle together. to his luck, one of your friends had seen you and had laughed a bit, excusing themself from the group to walk over to him and tell him a bit of what was going on.

and with the blink of an eye, from you and all of your friends, you were gone. swept away by a large, serpent tail, while jìngyí made his way home to sit you down and talk.

naga x reader, mechanic x reader, artificer x reader

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ JÌNGYÍ VERSELESS ꒱ he likes to toss and play around with the people he scares. it’s the demonic part of him that urges him to torment the poor souls that shy away from him, and you certainly were no exception.

trapped in his citadel way down below in the abhorration. his presence making you flustered every time he is around. he had no clue he made your heart beat out of fluster and now fear.

it was his alessio that brought it up to him and told him what was really going on. which lead to jìngyí instead becoming less teasing and tormenting and more possessive and quiet around you but in a comfortable way.

he looks after you and makes sure you are okay, sometimes pulling you to rooms of his citadel and keeping you inside of them for a while to make sure you don’t run away. don’t worry, alessio knows exactly what that feels like, so at the very least the two of you can be comforted by one another. . .

demon x reader, necronancer x reader, alchemist x reader

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ PRIMORDIAL HUSBANDS ꒱ often do not bother too much with those who are scared of them unless there is a reason to. you are a baker in the town next to the emerald woods that they often frequent, to get pastries for their husband.

they only noticed your fidgety mannerisms around them when they entered the bakery after rishen. he had been talking and chatting with you merrily and you had been just as bright.

yet, when they caught your eyes, your posture immediately faltered and your lips thinned, eyes looking away.

the man you had previously spoken to would only tilt his head in confusion and look over his shoulder, only to see his husbands who stood in the doorway to the bakery and stared at you in confusion. eyebrows raised.

he then looked back at you and then back at his husbands, before grinning and giving you a look. one you knew way too well.

“rishen—”

“oooooooooh, you’re crushing on my husbands?”

“what?” the husbands both let out in unison and give you another look.

the embarrassment was too hard to handle for you, and you ended up sinking behind the counter and hiding away from the world there.

corrupt gods x reader, siren x reader, sorcerer x reader, rhytaari x reader

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ VALERIUS ꒱ to put this one really short, he would be very nonchalant about you. yeah, you’re scared? it’s not something he really thinks about. he’s got plenty of people who fear him enough already. though upon discovery that you were not scared but in love, he would have given you the biggest look of disappointment.

“you have awful taste in men if you are crushing on me.” he sighs, shaking his head and turning around.

“find someone better for you.” and with that he was off. leaving you to splutter and spill tears of embarrassment.

demon x reader, rhytaari x reader

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llamagoddessofficial · 2 years

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@aka-indulgence had the GALL to talk to me about their Moon God concept. how dare u rope me into this, you know how much I love writing Gods

---

"... I think you'd like the Earth," she said, softly.

... The chains clinked gently, as the restrained God cocked his head to the side. Despite how her warm starlight bathed his body, his own glow remained cold and grey, far older and deeper light than hers.

A cruel, crescent smile worked its way onto his face. "i thought you said you knew what i did, little comet."

Her lip turned. Oh, how he loved when her pretty face frowned... something so beautiful, trying so hard to be unpleasant, and instead appearing even sweeter.

"The Earth is wonderful." She repeated, stubbornly, to the monster that had tried to destroy it all. Her hair floated around her, like nebulae clouding in deep space.

He leaned forward. Suddenly, the chains began to strain- despite the brave face she quickly put on he saw her flinch, he saw her light flicker, dimming in fear. She was a brave thing, of course... but she was still smart, and when the lunar God drew nearer the urge to flee was written all over her.

"you've never seen a world without light, have you, my star?" Shadows as deep as silence began to mar his gleeful face and giant body. "of course not, not when you are light. but did you ever think about how things might look when you're not there? do you and your sisters, and your damned mother, ever think about how different everything is when you're not there to encourage its mindless love? the earth isn't such a wonderful place. especially not when it's got enough darkness to hide in."

She had frozen. She stared at him with wide, glittering eyes. His own eyelights were sharp and small, old moons in the arms of the new.

He sat back. "well. that's just my thoughts. and i-"

.... Suddenly, warmth washed over him- her eyebrows shot up and she rounded on him like a spitting fire, her glow red hot. "What do you know about the Earth!?"

Sans startled, blinking and drawing back in surprise; flashing blue and violet colours suddenly filled the room, a little supernova of emotion bursting out of her. She approached his bars, voice echoing as loud as a little God's voice could.

"Don't mistake my silence for contemplation, Moon." She flared. "And forgive my insolence, but haven't you been sitting in a cave for... what, a few hundred thousand years? What do you know about the Earth, you fool? And don't tell me about mindless mortal love, stars do nothing! We guide sailors if we're lucky, and we end up trapped as mortal wives if we're not! There are creatures who run from the sun, whose whole lives revolve around your light, and you lecture me about..."

...

Her glow started to dim, becoming gentler and whiter, as she looked at the gleeful and exhilarated expression on his face. By the way her eyes widened, and her breaths softened, she seemed to be slowly remembering who she was talking to.

"... A-about..." She stepped back from the bars. Her light was dimming further and further. "About... u-uhm..."

... No small amount of panic was written on her face. The little Goddess looked like she was about to turn and flee.

He had to stop himself from pulling forward and frightening her. no. don't go. don't leave. it's dark without you.

...

Sans raised his face, slightly. "there are creatures who live by moonlight?"

... She let out a small breath. "Y... yes. There are many."

"it has..." He glanced to the side, struggling in admitting his shortcoming... struggling in sacrificing his pride in the hopes she'd stay. "... it has been a long time, since i saw the earth. things have perhaps moved on more without me than i realised."

"Perhaps." She said, with the last of her anger.

...

"... would you tell me about them?" His gaze was a strange type of soft that she'd never seen before. "the creatures, living in the night?

... That clearly surprised her. It was her turn to cock her head, the motion made him want to cup her like a firefly.

"Of... of course." She drew in closer again. "There are many...

He relaxed, as she started to speak. She didn't know it wasn't her proximity that made him start to shine a little bit brighter.

#llama writes #hes such a BAD MAN i love him

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joelswritingmistress · 10 months

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Last Halloween: Chapter 27

Summary: After a tragedy involving Joel happened on Halloween one year prior, the town now shuns him while ignoring the details of the now closed case. You are seemingly the only one to offer empathy to a man the town is making out to be a monster.

Warning: Violence Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader You didn't know what Vic's plan was, but there was one thing he got sick of hearing you demand. "Don't hurt him!" Despite the fear for your own safety, you knew that Vic's plan was to lure Joel down to the junkyard. And it would work. You knew he was on his way.

"Why are you doing this?" You scoffed at Vic from where your hands were bound behind the chair you had been forced into. Your eyes were squinted in obvious disgust for the man.

"You should've walked away when you had the chance." He slowly paced toward you and when he grabbed the bottom half of your face you turned your head. Vic physically forced your head back in the opposite direction, leaving a pain in your neck.

You looked him in the eyes, not giving him the satisfaction of any emotion. He would not make you cry. He would not bring your inner anguish. He would get nothing from you.

"You both have ruined my life," Vic hissed through gritted teeth.

You spoke quietly. "You ruined your own life."

"Joel Miller killed my brother. He was a hero in this town. A legend-"

"A legend, a football player," you finished, "I've heard it all before. And finally because of the event on the green last night, everyone knows how full of shit you both are. Legends don't attack people and wrap chains around their necks from behind." You knew you were about to be in for it but you couldn't help it, "Criminals and shitheads do that, and because everyone saw what Johnny *really* did to Joel last Halloween, the legendary facade is over and everyone can see him for the asshole he really was."

Vic glared through you. You knew he was seeing red. His eyes transformed into something then reminded you more of a wild animal than a human being. And before you realized what had happened, your entire body shifted, rocking the chair back onto two legs, as a heated pain shot like a flare through your face.

The ring on Vic's third finger left a mark on your face from the hard backhand he given you that left him with his fists balled and still glaring at you. The force of the slap had been more than you anticipated and for the first time you were afraid that he could just beat you senseless.

Still, you gave him nothing. No reaction aside from a continued glare of your own.

When you heard the sound of car barreling down toward the buildings, you got a lump in your throat. That's when Vic retrieved a roll of duct tape he'd purposely kept handy and roughly pressed a strip across your mouth.

With a grin, he put his finger to his lips. "Don't say anything. We want to surprise him."

Your eyebrows pressed together and you tried to call out for Joel but it was impossible. Muffled cries sat dormant in your throat and you tried to make as much noise as possible in your chair.

When Vic disappeared around the corner of the building, all you could do was wait. Your eyes frantically scanned the darkness and you tried your best to listen to what was going behind where you could see.

Immediately, you recognized the sounds of a scuffle. There was shouting and the uneven movements of shadows. It wasn't going to be a fair fight; and all you could do was sit there and hope for the sake of Joel's life.

He's already broken, you reminded yourself. His face. His ribs.

You screamed into the duct tape as you began blaming yourself. Blaming yourself for going outside to get the firewood. Or being naive enough to think it was safe. For not even thinking twice about the man in the parking lot. You should have put the pieces together, or so you thought now. He had to be the link that led them to know where you were staying with Joel.

When they finally brought Joel around the corner into your line of vision, one man holding each arm and a third by their side, you tried your hardest to wiggle free. You knew you had been right. Halloween was the night that they had planned to seek revenge. You were sure your stunt on the town green didn't help that. For the first time you wondered if it was the right thing to do. You and Joel could have run off together and left the town behind like you had said without showing off the video between Joel and Johnny. Why did you need their approval? Why did you need to prove anything?

Because it's what Joel deserved! You shouted back at your inner voice.

Vic brought Joel within ten feet of where you sat and you could see the anguish on his face.

"Let her go!" Joel shouted.

"You two are fucking echoes of each other, you know that?" Vic said, mocking him now, "Let her go. P-p-please let her go." He nodded to one of his goons, "Mickey, put some tape over his mouth. I can't listen to that shit anymore."

When they managed to duct tape Joel's mouth shut, you screamed against yours again. Joel's eyes burned into yours and you winced as they kicked out the backs of his legs, sending him down to his knees. You could see from the way he fell that his hands were tied behind his back.

Vic got down on one knee beside him and put a hand on his back. "Take a good look at her, Joel." He motioned to you with one finger, "Tonight you're going to feel what I felt for the last year. You're going to know what it feels like to lose someone you love."

Joel slowly turned his head to look at Vic, who was now smirking in his face. Without warning Joel headbutted him hard in the face, making Vic fall back. As satisfying as it was to watch, you knew it was just going to further piss him off.

"Fuck!" Vic shouted, prompting his friend to strike Joel in the side of the head, knocking him down to the ground.

You rocked so hard and furiously in your chair trying to break free that it tipped over sideways, sending a pain up through your right shoulder.

Vic held his nose, wiping blood away from beneath it and then yanked Joel back upright so he was kneeling. He shouted now. "I hope that was worth it," he screamed in his face. "Because now I'm going to make you watch all of the things we're going to do to her."

Your eyes widened and your body went numb when you heard the cocking of a shotgun. Who had it? Your eyes drifted from Vic to Mickey and the third man with them. They all whipped around and Joel attempted to look behind him with little success. And then you saw Ronnie's unmistakable silhouette in the darkness.

"No one's doing anything to anyone," he shouted confidently, pointing the double barrels at Vic. The two goons looked back and forth between one another and then to their leader. Each man had their hands up, but not Vic.

"What're you gunna do, old man?" Vic asked, still grinning, "Kill all of us?"

Ronnie looked him directly in the eyes, a hardened expression on his face. "No, Vic. Just you."

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @grogusmumum @ghostwritesthings @strawbunnyx @ayamenimthiriel@noisynightmarepoetry @jiminstinypinky @tuquoquebrute @pedr0swh0r3 @runningmom94 @mellymbee @shayna-d-clown @bbiophiliaa @theclassicvinyldragon @tiffanypooh @mandijo17 @poodlebae @purple-fig @vabeachazn

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thebigoblin · 9 months

Text

your hand on my waistline

tags: Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Married Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Alpha Derek Hale, Under-negotiated Kink, Somnophilia, Free Use, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slice of Life

A/N: The title is from Taylor's song "I Know Places." Also, posting this here, will put this up on ao3 in the next 12 hours or sm. It's already noon here and I've only moved from my bed to go to the washroom lol... the plot (or porn?) bunnies really took over this Sunday morning.

on ao3!

He wakes up syrupy slow, the blankness of a good night's sleep wanting to take him back, the brightness of the sun bringing him to consciousness. He wakes up like a gentle breeze, eyes closed, slowly getting on his knees, cracking his limbs. His eyes open when hands trail his waist, warm and big, his upper half bare. Kisses land in the middle of his shoulder blades, and the touch has him smiling and turning his head.

"'S early." Derek's eyes are open just enough for him to squint and for Stiles to glimpse a bit of green, and he tugs, and Stiles follows until his back and Derek's front are adjoined, both of them clad only in boxers. Derek's hands caress his stomach, his chest, and rest there. This position, with Stiles' body on one of Derek's hand, will have his partner complain of a numb arm when they truly, eventually get up. But for now...

They sleep.

This time, he wakes up to trailing kisses on his body. Warm lips, big hands, and a breathtaking smile greet him as he opens his eyes, and morning breath be damned. Stiles moves his hands to Derek's neck, fingers caressing the hair at the nape, and Derek comes closer, his body hovering over Stiles', and their lips meet. It's sweet and unhurried, open lips and eager tongues, few clacks of teeth and a cheeky lip bite from Stiles on Derek's bottom lip.

"Brat," Derek says when he pulls back. Stiles grins.

"How ever will I be punished?"

Derek's eyes flash. Ruby red, danger. He's supposed to fear it. He should — he's the prey. Derek is the predator, the so-called monster, the thing that doesn't exist.

Stiles wraps his legs around Derek's waist, calves digging into Derek's back, his hands playing with the elastic on Derek's boxers.

"You're such a brat." Derek means it, more than means it, eyes still red, and oh, here it comes. His right hand wraps around Stiles' neck, left hand on the other side of Stiles' head, and they're a breath apart, so close. "Do you know what happens to brats, Stiles?"

He has an idea. But he says, "No."

Derek grins, feral. "I'm going to teach you, then."

His hands are tied to the bedpost, they sting with the stretch, and his neck is bruised from Derek's tight grip on them. He doesn't choke him, but he holds, and Derek holds tight. There's no other way to hold, and Stiles wouldn't want there to be.

His legs are as wide apart as they can be, and Stiles wants to free his hands, wants to move them and grip Derek's hair, pull him up and make them kiss. But his hands aren't free, and Derek is between his legs, head bowed, lips and teeth working against Stiles' sensitive inner thighs, his balls.

Derek licks a long a stripe across his balls, and Stiles can only mewl. Derek has been at this for fucking hours. (Minutes. But to Stiles, time only exists when he's cumming, and right now, that is an eternity away).

"Fuck, baby, the noises you make. I could cum from just that," Derek's voice is a low register, hoarse, and damn it. Too sexy.

Stiles mewls in agreements, pants, "Please," like that will do anything. "Let me cum, please, please."

Derek looks at him. Direct. Commanding. "You're still speaking," he says. He doesn't say anything else.

Stiles can't take it. He loves what Derek doles out, he does, but today he has no patience. He stares into Derek's eyes, the ocean-forest colors, and pleads his case. "I'll do anything. Anything, just let me cum now, please."

Derek doesn't agree right away. Doesn't say anything. He just watches, nostrils flared, jaw set. Sees the desperation and the tempting image Stiles must make, tied and at Derek's mercy, begging, pleading, crying. And he takes Stiles' cock in his mouth, hard and leaking, and goes to town.

Tongue, fingers, and the suction of Derek's mouth has Stiles cumming moments after, gone on pleasure.

He's inchoherent, all the words in his extensive vocabulary reduced to whimpers and noises he cannot parse in his current state, and all Derek does is stroke him through the experience. He's hungry still, nowhere near done with Stiles, his cock rock-hard and touching Stiles' as he moves up after, cum-tasting lips on Stiles after he's stopped trembling, has finally gone lax.

It's the morning, he just had an orgasm, and Derek is kissing him and being the gentleman he is, soft with him. Washing him up with a wet cloth when Stiles makes a noise of disgust at his state, and it's only after Stiles turns around to be the little spoon, his hands free now, back to Derek's front, that he realizes only one of them chased their pleasure.

"Alpha?" He asks, bone-tired, almost asleep again.

"Shh, sleep. Just one thing — you're still okay with me using you, right?" He says it so casually, like getting to fuck Stiles wherever and whenever (within some limits they've both set, after hours and hours of conversation), isn't something unusual, when in fact Derek was the one most hesitant about it. They haven't really done it much, despite their love for the Alpha-Brat routine, but Stiles knows one thing for sure.

"Yup. Definitely a-ok with it. More than."

Derek brushes away hair from his forehead and rumbles with pleasure. "Sleep," he says again, and Stiles is off to dreamland with a smile on his face.

His trip to dreamland is rather small — or so he thinks. Because when he opens his eyes once again, it's not because he wants to, but rather something makes him do it.

The something happens to be Derek's cock thrusting in and out of him, brutally fast, on the edge of his orgasm. Stiles doesn't even have to spare a braincell to get on with the program, his own cock leaking at the pleasure Derek is taking from him, the little tremors going through Derek's body, hands across Stiles' waist, on him, hard and bruising.

"Hard, harder," Stiles' voice comes off sleep-rough, and maybe he's been asleep longer than mere minutes. Derek fucks into him, big and warm in his tight little hole, and it's perfect, this combination of them — Stiles is by no means a shy little virgin, but every time with Derek feels like the first time, and Derek has told him more than enough times that he feels the same. It's magic, Stiles will always say; Derek always counters with, "No, dumbass, it's love."

Maybe it's a combination of both, because goddamn, Derek hasn't been the only man he's been with but he is the only one to make him feel this way.

Derek heeds his words, too gone on chasing his pleasure to do his routine "do the opposite of what Stiles says" at the moment, and he cums like a wave, all inside Stiles, his thrusts becoming uncontrolled. There's a low growl, snap of teeth at Stiles' neck, and that's it, Stiles' dick joins the fun.

Stiles' insides fill with Derek's white-hot cum as the sheets below him fill with Stiles'.

They lay panting for about five-minutes, Stiles not minding the mess because he's got Derek's arms wrapped around him and his dick inside him; he's comfortable. And then Derek breaks the silence.

"Was a record, baby," Derek tells him, kisses the back of his neck, open-mouthed kisses that has Stiles blushing like he didn't just have sex with the man. He turns in Derek's hold, who watches him, a little cross-eyed, and with a small, wicked smile on his face. "Hey. Sleep good?"

"Good," Stiles answers, snuggling in against Derek's chest. It's warm, and good, and his Alpha is all rumbly, purring with pride. "Record?" His vocabulary still seems to be lost, stolen by Derek's cock and his ability to suck cock, too, and Derek, the bastard, gets it. So when he speaks, Stiles just knows he's grinning his "wolf got the canary" smile.

"Fucked you once already before you woke up. Took my time with you, baby, put my whole fist in you. You take me so well, like you were made for me, fuck, come here." Stiles leans more and more into Derek's chest at the revelation — Derek loves to take his time, and can spend hours edging his pleasure when it concerns Stiles and all that he has to offer. Which means Derek used him for about two hours; Stiles knows him, and he knows that, especially when it comes to preparing Stiles, Derek can take at least an hour.

And Stiles woke up when Derek was about to cum the second time. So, yep. Definitely two hours, at least. And he didn't even stir in all that time, not until a long time — definitely a record when it comes to Derek using him and him being not conscious for it.

Derek pulls his face up and Stiles leans into the kiss, so sweet and gentle, it gives him cavities. And it's so jarring from the words spilling from Derek's mouth, Stiles has to focus to realize that yep, this is happening.

It's always the quiet ones.

"Almost made you spill in your sleep, baby, and that made me want to cum. So I did. I already cleaned you," Derek answers his unasked question. "Even made breakfast, but put it into the fridge for later." Sex talk and food talk, in the same conversation. Stiles loves Derek more and more every single day.

"I love you," Derek kisses him at the words, still sweet, but possessive, too, this time. "Yours."

"Yours, Stiles, always yours."

Stiles grins and moves his pointer finger across Derek's chest, slow and sensual. "Could you do one more thing for me?"

Derek raises an eyebrow. "Other than lick our combined jizz from you and our bed?" Stiles nods. "What do you want, brat?" The switch is so quick — baby to brat — and Stiles lives for this.

"Bring me breakfast in bed and feed me food because, you know, sex legs and all that."

Derek rolls them around and pins him to the bed, on his side where the sheet is not wet, and fuck, there they go again, their cocks touching, creating unintended friction.

"At this rate you'll have to feed me lunch in bed, too."

Derek grins down at him, already teasing Stiles' hole with his fingers. "Made enough sandwiches to last till tomorrow morning."

Stiles says in-between whimpers — he's too sensitive — "Fuck. How long was I asleep for?"

"Long enough for me to plan what to feed you. Food-wise and me-wise."

Derek's clearly been spending too much time with him, because that's something he'll totally say.

"Yes, yes, yes," Stiles pants, and the day goes on and on, the sunlight on the floorboards of their bedroom turns into shadows cast by the moonlight, and then the lamps light the way. They eat food, cuddle, and kiss. And they fuck, brutal and quick, and they rest, and they make love, looking into each other's eyes and saying everything they've said till now and will say in the future.

They're in their own home, in love and with each other, and this is how they choose to spend this weekend.

Monday morning comes, and Stiles wakes up to Derek talking on his work phone. Stiles catches the tail-end of it.

"—feeling well. Thank you. Bye."

Stiles waits till the call disconnects and Derek puts the phone away on his nightstand.

"I tired you out, huh?"

"Stop talking. Sleep. Too early," Derek swallows Stiles' laughter with a kiss and even his protests of it's not too early, it's almost nine in the morning, according to the clock on the wall, ends in a huff and another kiss. "Sleep," Derek insists.

Stiles doesn't just have sex-legs. He has sex-body, and he's just not going to pass this up.

So, he sleeps, and the sleep comes easy with Derek's weight on him.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sh.writes #sterek fic

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a-french-coconut · 2 months

Text

Snippet #4

Will is dragging him back, towards the Empire State Building where it seems they’ll make their stand.

Towards allies, friends, safety, as much it can be safe in a war.

But away from the boy behind the smoke.

“Travis, take us back with the others, it’s not safe here.” Will urges and he’s right, they are far from their own forces, surrounded by the titan army. They should go, he should transport them back.

Brown curly hair, blue eyes.

He can’t get the guy’s face out of his mind.

“Travis, whatever you are thinking about, you can think about it at the hotel.” Will says kindly, brushing off his face a strand of hair. “People need me.”

He’s right, the voice of reason setting him in a straight path since they met years ago.

His face behind the cloud, his reflection looking back at him.

A choice, think fast.

A fleeting hope, a ghost of his past or his boyfriend, real and here now, right in front him.

Gotta make a choice, Travis, like you did six years ago. Leave or stay ?

“Hold on to me, and don’t let go until I stopped.” He tells Will and he picks him up. As he takes off, as the world around him blurs and turns into a mess of colors and sounds, he thinks he ears it.

He ears him.

Travis ! Travis !

Too late, he’s gone. The Plaza Hotel stands before him, full of injured demigods needing Will’s help.

“Come with me, Travis, I’m going to need an assistant now that-“

“I have to go back.” Will looks at him, bewildered, and with reason, what sane demigod would go back amidst the monsters. “It might be him.”

Travis hates how Will’s shocked face turns into one of pity. He is the only one Travis ever told about Connor, and the one that was with him when he almost died.

“I know, I know it’s a long shot.” Travis says. “But if there is the slightest chance, Will, if he’s alive, I have to go back. I can’t leave him again.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.” Will refutes. “Please don’t go.”

“I’m sorry.” Travis whispers, his heart breaking at the anguish in his boyfriend’s eyes. It’s not fair to him, he already lost too much siblings, Travis knows he can’t be added to that list. But neither can he let go of Connor. “I’ll come back, I promise.”

“Travis, please.” Will takes his hand, refusing to let him go. “If you saw him, if it’s Connor, he saw you too. Is it’s him, he’ll make himself known. By Apollo, please wait.”

“Will, I abandoned him. No, it doesn’t matter that I thought he was dead, I should have never given up until I found a body. And besides, he doesn’t have any way to…”

No, no, he wouldn’t have kept it. But if he did, if he trusted him enough to keep it…

“Travis ?” Will enquires. “What are you thinking about ?”

“Maybe he has a way.” He says breathless, feeling truly hopeful for a long time. Stop, maybe it’s not him, don’t get too high or you’ll pummel hard. “Go with your patients, I promise I won’t do anything rash.”

“Where are you going ?” Will yells after him as he runs towards the highest building he knows of. “The Empire State Building !” He shoots back.

A red flare, a promise to find him wherever he is, after a guy from foster care tried to force them into two different families. It’s been years, gods know if the thing even still works.

He barges through the building’s door, spectacularly ignore the guard’s attempt of authority and he wills the elevator to go faster. To the 102th floor he goes.

It’s dawn, night morphs into day meaning they’ll get to rest before tonight’s new attack. It’s dawn, and multiples cloud of grey smoke whirl in the sky, a testimony of the battles happening on the ground.

Travis looks over to where they just came from, but he only sees grey smoke. Nothing to worry about, the flare is old, he’s going to take time to work.

He waits, and waits, and slowly, faith drains out of his body as the city’s skyline remains grey.

He has a snack to hurt himself, doesn’t he ? To make himself hope only to see it squashed down by reality.

Connor died six years ago, eaten by a cyclops, alone and scared. Tears pool in his eyes as he remembers his little brother. He doesn’t have any pictures of the both of them, but it’s alright. Every time he looks himself in the mirror, he sees what Connor could have looked like if he was still alive. He found comfort in that, in carrying a piece of Connor with him until he dies, and he scours the Underworld to find him again.

Oh by Hermes, he has to get it together. He’s a counsellor, they need him and here he is, alone and looking for dead people. He turns back to enter the elevator but something stops him.

A feeling, a childish and naïve feeling that if he looks one more time, it’s going to work. He scoffs and takes another step forwards.

Look back, look again.

It’s useless, there’s nothing to see, nothing to search for.

But he does turn, heart dead set on seeing once again a grey sky. Nothing to lose except time, and he’s feeling rather petty against time right now.

Flicker of red between the dark clouds.

Don’t blink or it’s gone, don’t blink or you won’t see it again.

But the red just keeps coming, swirling with the grey and climbing in the air.

Light up the flare and wherever you are, I’ll come find you.

Brown hair, blue eyes, same face, red flare.

It can’t be anyone else.

“Connor.” The name of his brother slips out of his mouth before he can stop it. He wants to scream it, to yell it so loud that the whole city will hear it. Travis only cares for one to hear it.

I'm obsessed with this fic, maybe that's why I lack inspiration for the others, all of my writing cells are focused on this one 😅

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #percy jackson #will solace #connor stoll #travis stoll #camp half blood #willvis

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thesakuragarnet · 4 months

Text

Lick Your Wounds

Summary: When Dabi arrives at Hawks’ apartment after a failed recruitment attempt, he quickly learns that the Commission has made the hero hide his true colors.

DabiHawksWeek2024 Prompt Three: Bl00dplay

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY! TAGS BENEATH THE KEEP READING SECTION

Word Count: 2,022 words

AO3 link

Tags: DabiHawks, bl00dplay, smvt, dead dove: do not eat, bl00d and injury, DabiHawksWeek2024, DHWeek24NSFW, swearing, s3xual content, oral fixaiton, tongue f*cking a wound, t0p dabi, b0ttom hawks

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dabi loves Hawks’ bed. It doesn’t creak. It’s big enough for Hawks to completely spread his wings when he’s lying down on his back. It’s soft and comfortable. It’s all the things that his cramped room at the villains’ hideout doesn’t have to offer. The sheets feel nice against his skin; they aren’t scratchy and thin and snagging against his staples. In short, it’s perfect, and Dabi finds it increasingly harder to get out of after each late-night “interrogation” with the hero.

However, it’s the first thing that enters Dabi’s brain when he gets stabbed in the forearm, ripping through his scarred skin and revealing the flesh and blood beneath. It was just a low-level criminal that he’d tried to recruit for the Paranormal Liberation Front…now he’s nothing more than ashes in the alleyway. He wants nothing more than to sleep in Hawks’ bed. He craves comfort…and the last thing he wants is Ujiko offering any services…services that might end up turning him into more of a monster than he already is.

So, Dabi is climbing up the fire escape that leads to one of Hawks’ secret Commission apartments; he just hoped that this was the one Hawks was using tonight. It wouldn’t be a big deal if he wasn’t there; after all, Dabi just wants to patch up his wound and get a good night’s sleep. Still, he wouldn’t complain if he could get said good night’s sleep after fucking Hawks’ brains out.

Dabi fishes into the pocket of his pants, wincing with every movement from the dull throbbing in his arm as blood slowly drips on his shoes. His fingers manage to wrap around the copied key in his pocket as he scrambles onto Hawks’ balcony, and he shoves it into the lock, turning it and flinging the door open with a grunt.

SHIIK!

Dabi gulps when he feels the feather blade pressing against the nape of his neck the moment he steps inside; two golden eyes gleam in the darkness, but they seem to soften when they meet the glowing cerulean of the villain.

“Oh…Dabi. You didn’t call,” Hawks mutters, eyes narrowed at the uninvited guest.

“Didn’t have the time,” Dabi shrugs, pushing the blade away with two fingers, and he straightens up his posture. “Need your med kit.”

Hawks sniffs…and then goes rigid as Dabi closes the door behind him.

Hawks is a bird of prey. There’s no doubt about it…especially with the way he’s eyeing the gaping wound on Dabi’s arm. It isn’t exactly a “gaping wound”, but, to Hawks, it might as well be. The way the blood subtly pours out. The need to suckle and lick and bite bubbles in Hawks’ brain. The blood…it smells so good… and Hawks just knows it tastes even better. Hawks is a heteromorph… a mutant as his HPSC handler used to call him. He had animalistic cravings that resulted from his bird-like Quirk. There was a reason his moniker was Hawks .

“ Fuck ,” Hawks moans under his breath, pupils turning to slits as his pulse quickens, hunger flaring and talons unsheathing. Part of him wants to rip the wound open and drink Dabi dry…to let the crimson rivers run until there’s nothing left. Even more specifically…because it’s Dabi’s blood. His soulmate. His lover. It smells sweet… delicious even… erotic .

‘NO.’ The Commission leader’s threatening voice cuts through Keigo’s psyche, and he straightens up, wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth and adjusting his posture.

Dabi blinks, confused. His vision is shit, but he can vaguely make out Hawks’ movements in the dim shadows of the apartment. Hawks isn’t breathing…or at least he’s breathing so shallowly that it’s impossible to tell. Hawks steps to the side, nodding his head curtly toward the master bedroom, and Dabi hesitantly walks by him in the darkness. Hawks knows he should stay put. He knows he shouldn’t follow Dabi…he shouldn’t risk it…but…he can’t help it. His feet move with a mind of their own, stalking Dabi as he walks into the bedroom and to the connected bathroom. Dabi switches on the light, and Hawks gasps, covering his mouth before he can sigh like a porn star. The crimson oozes out of Dabi’s arm in a thin rivulet, tantalizing and captivating and making Hawks’ heartbeat throb in his ears. The gasp was enough for Hawks to get the scent of Dabi’s blood raw in his veins…and it’s overwhelming. Hawks grabs the frame of the door, gripping tight enough to make it creak as he stands on shaky legs. His basic instincts are telling him to pounce…to suck the scarlet out of his lover until he’s had his fill.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?” Dabi grunts as he looks for the medkit in Hawks’ bathroom cabinets. Hawks mumbles something unintelligible, his voice strained and his gaze distant.

“Huh?” Dabi blurts, raising an eyebrow as he looks over his shoulder at Hawks.

“Don’t…cover…it up,” Hawks whispers, “Please.”

Dabi stops his search for the medkit, brain reeling from how his composed pet Pro is suddenly losing his goddamn mind over a freshly bleeding gash. He slowly turns around to face the hero, thoroughly unsettled and irritated.

“You want me to stand here and let it get infected? You’ve seen my body, birdshit, I can’t do that,” Dabi snaps, annoyed. Hawks looks pale in the bathroom light, sweat beading on his forehead as he swallows thickly.

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen a stab wound before,” Dabi scoffs at the twisted fascination on Hawks’ face.

“I’m…I’m not allowed around trauma calls. Can’t be around blood,” Hawks rasps, voice low and husky; his happy-go-lucky tone has completely vanished.

“You were around blood in Kyushu,” Dabi retorts, and Hawks subtly shakes his head.

“Sometimes it’s unavoidable,” Hawks replies, still soft.

“You were fine, then,” Dabi snorts, and Hawks takes a deep breath.

“I was fine because…it wasn’t yours ,” Hawks murmurs, and the wheels in Dabi’s head start turning. The calculating, hypnotic stare, the wet corners of Hawks’ mouth, and the trembling in his voice point to one thing.

“God…you’re actually turned on right now,” Dabi chuckles, his face contorting from disturbed to amused as a sly grin spreads across his scar-laden mug. Hawks seems to squirm in place, unable to refute the claim.

“You sick motherfucker,” Dabi sneers, taking a step closer to Hawks, who goes completely rigid once more, eyes trained on Dabi’s exposed flesh. The blood’s already started to coagulate…but that doesn’t matter. Hawks still wants to lick the wound clean.

“Awww, what’s wrong, birdie? Commission says you can’t have a little taste?” He teases, waving his arm closer, and Hawks feels like he’s going to explode.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Hawks says through gritted teeth.

“I’d turn you into fried chicken if you hurt me,” Dabi huffs matter-of-factly. “Nothing wrong with a little consensual blood play. C’mon. Live a little. You can betray those bastards…for me .”

Dabi holds his arm out toward the Pro Hero once more, watching him wrestle with his inner demons and instincts. Sure, it might be a little unconventional, but Dabi was anything but conventional. If having him lap at his blood was enough for Hawks to disobey the HPSC, it was enough for Dabi. It was part of the sick thrill of corrupting his new toy.

A few moments of silence pass…and then…the tension snaps. Hawks grabs the villain’s hand, breathing hard and eyes locked on his target. Dabi flinches at the sudden movement, the thought passing through his head that this might have been a terrible idea…until Hawks begins gently kissing up his hand. Dabi’s expression softens. The winged Pro’s lips travel up Dabi’s wrist, the kisses growing slower and more intentional as it gets to the trail of blood leading to the wound. Dabi inhales sharply when Hawks moans against his skin, his tongue lapping at the dried blood until his scarred skin is spotless, leading to the open slit of skin. Dabi gently bites his bottom lip, swallowing the urge to sigh. He’s much more into this than he thought he’d be. Right before Hawks can reach the gash, Dabi pulls his arm away, making the hero whimper and practically crumble into the ground. Dabi clicks his tongue, his lips curling into a shit-eating grin.

“Let’s move this to the bed.”

…

Dabi shudders as he presses inside Hawks, positioning his forearm beside Hawks’ head. The hero promptly latches on, moaning like a bitch in heat as he suckles the wound, licking it clean. Hawks never slashes. He never chews. He simply traces his tongue in the wound, indulging in the taste of Dabi’s blood. He doesn’t want to hurt him, and this…this is enough. It’s enough to satiate the instinctual drive within him that the HPSC spent years locking down and hiding away. Hawks simply stares up at Dabi, eyes wide yet predatory as he flicks his tongue. Dabi, whose nerves have long been fried, can’t feel the obvious pain. It’s not visceral enough…if anything, it just tickles. Whatever it’s making him feel, part of it is arousal. Hawks has never stared at him this way before. No one has. It makes him feel wanted…no… needed .

“Fuck, baby,” Dabi groans, gently rocking his hips as he ruts up into Hawks. The hero doesn’t even flinch, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he continues to lap at Dabi’s injury.

“Taste so good, Dabs,” Hawks slurs, pulling back to cry out when Dabi hits the right spot deep inside. The tips of his fangs gently press into Dabi’s wrist, biting tenderly to leave an impression in his flesh as drool dips down his chin. Dabi pants, steam rising from his body as his Quirk sets into overdrive with his emotions, threatening to burst free. Dabi doesn’t know how Hawks hasn’t come all over his own stomach yet; he’s never seen the Pro this goddamn hard before. Hawks’ cock bounces idly, untouched, somewhere between red and purple, stiff and covered in precome. Hawks groans, drunk on pleasure as he repeats Dabi’s name over and over. He’s never felt such a euphoric high before…one that the Commission would surely disapprove of. They could go to hell. In this moment…his walls are down…his blood is boiling…he’s in heaven . The taste of Dabi is potent on his tongue, filling his lungs, his mind, and his soul. It’s so toxically intoxicating and overwhelming…he’s obsessed .

“Gonna come,” Hawks whines pathetically, stuttering as he stares up at his lover, focusing on the ecstasy pumping through his body. Soft “ ah~ah~ah’s ” trickle down from Keigo’s lips as he tenses up, and Dabi fucks him through his orgasm as come spatters across his abdomen.

“ Shit ,” Dabi moans, his gravelly voice leveling off in an uncharacteristically high pitch as he paints Hawks’ insides white, hips stilling only when his balls are empty.

Hawks and Dabi stare at each other, panting as the smell of sex sifts through the air. The villain sees the crimson smeared across the hero’s mouth, tainting his sun-kissed skin. It’s such a sadistically beautiful display, cheeks flushed and eyelids heavy. Dabi bends down, tasting his own blood on the hero’s lips as he passionately kisses him. Hawks groans, hands rising up to rest at the back of Dabi’s neck as he deepens the kiss, flicking his tongue into his mouth. Dabi’s gash throbs, the dull pain suddenly becoming very visceral in the afterglow. He’s definitely going to need to clean it up. Hawks disconnects their lips, pulling back and admiring his lover looming over him.

“You’re too good to me,” Dabi mumbles, shaking his head as he cups the side of Hawks’ face, rubbing his thumb along his cheek.

“Think I came so hard I blacked out for a bit,” Hawks chuckles, letting the waves of the afterglow wash over him.

“Listen. I still need that medkit,” Dabi huffs, and Hawks grins, his bloodthirst temporarily satiated.

“I'm good now. Let’s get you patched up.”

#ao3 writer #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #dabihawks dead dove #dabihawks #my hero academia fanfiction #fanfic #dabi x hawks #toukei #ao3 #bloodplay #dabihawksweek24 #dabihawks smut #dabi smut #hawks smut #DHWeekDDove24 #DHWeekNSFW24

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monstersinthecosmos · 7 months

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okay I wanna talk about how Marius & Lestat are such similar people both in the sense of their personalities & behaviors but also the way they were turned and I keep coming back to this quote in BCtu:

So let me begin the narrative on a night when Marius, the ancient Roman Child of the Millennia, in a fit of pique became impatient with what he referred to as my “nauseating buoyancy and optimism” about the world in general.

I keep coming back to the thought that something divides them here, the big thing that they DON'T share is the optimism. Marius finds it nauseating! Part of this is like, the 1800 year age gap, so I always have to wonder like what that does to him and ask if Lestat will have calmed down even a little by the time he's that age. But it's hard to know how much is innate, and how much is locked in place by the Blood anyway, and how capable any of them are of real change. But I think it has a lot to do with the way they were each turned, and the immediate aftermath, and how Marius's life was basically instantly burdened with something enormous that caused him pain for 2,000 years. It feels more like, although they have so much in common, Marius is essentially sort of a pessimist, even though he likes to pretend he isn't.

“Lestat, you are the damnedest creature! Yes, a brat prince.” Slowly, he reinvoked every detail of Lestat’s face and form. The ice-blue eyes, darkening with laughter; the generous smile; the way the eyebrows came together in a boyish scowl; the sudden flares of high spirits and blasphemous humor. Even the catlike poise of the body he could envisage. So uncommon in a man of muscular build. Such strength, always such strength and such irrepressible optimism.

Anyway I bring it up because I was thinking a lot about how Marius ALSO has a drive for creative expression, but tends to spend his entire immortal life loathing his nature and feeling like he isn't allowed to be a part of the human world. Like this part about how he destroys all of his writing:

But then there came nights when I thought that everything I'd written was useless. After all, what was the purpose? I could not enter these descriptions, these observations, these poems, these essays, into the mortal world! They were contaminated in that they came from a blood drinker, a monster who slew humans for his own survival. There was no place for the poetry or history which had come from a greedy mind and heart. And so I began to destroy not only my fresh writings, but even the old essays which I had written in Antioch in the past. I took the scrolls out of the chests one by one and burnt them as I had burnt the records of my family. Or I merely kept them, locked up tight, and away from my eyes, so that nothing I'd written could spark in me anything new. It was a great crisis of the soul.

And this part about his paintings:

Always, there was that sense of familiarity - that I had seen this garden that I had known it long before I was allowed by Akasha to drink her blood. I had seen the stone benches in it, I had seen the fountains. I couldn't shake the sensations of being in it as I painted, so strong was the feeling. I'm not sure it aided me in my work. Perhaps it hurt. But as I gained skill as a painter, and I did indeed gain skill, other aspects of the work disturbed me. I was convinced that there was something unnatural in it, something inherently ghastly in the manner with which I drew human figures so nearly perfectly, something unnatural in the way I made the colors so unusually bright, and added so many fierce little details. I was particularly repelled by my penchant for decorative details. As much as I was driven to do this work, I hated it. I composed whole gardens of lovely mythic creatures only to rub them out. Sometimes I painted so fast that I exhausted myself, and fell down on the floor of the shrine, spending the paralytic sleep of the whole day there, helpless, rather than going to my secret resting place - my coffin - which was hidden not far from my house. We are monsters, that is what I thought whenever I painted or looked on my own painting, and that's what I think now. Never mind that I want to go on existing. We are unnatural. We are witnesses with both too much and too little feeling. And as I thought these things, I had before me the mute witnesses, Akasha and Enkil. What did it matter to them what I did?

But it's still something he feels he NEEDS to do, he has to appease his creative drive so that he can survive.

But now I took stock of them from my point of view not as Marius the rich man who can have whatever he wishes, but as Marius the monster painter who had rendered Pandora twenty-one times on the four walls of Akasha's shrine. I saw suddenly how inferior were these paintings, how rigid and pallid the goddesses and nymphs who peopled this world of my study, and quickly I woke my day slaves and told them that they must have everything covered over with fresh paint the following day. Also an entire supply of the best paints must be purchased and brought to the house. Never mind how the walls were to be redecorated. Leave that to me. Cover up all that was there. They were used to my eccentricities, and after making certain that they understood me, they went back to their sleep. I didn't know what I meant to do, except I felt driven to make pictures, and I felt if I can cling to that, if I can do that, then I can go on. My misery deepened.

This was a lot to copy & paste, apologies! But all of this stuck out to me as I've been thinking about the ways Marius and Lestat are both creative people who need to make things. With Lestat it was his music, and then his books. ((Also a sidenote but there were so many of Anne's journal entries that I saw at Tulane where she kept saying things like "I need to write stories" !)) Imagine if he'd felt Marius's shame and pessimism and had the foresight to destroy his work or to keep it private. And imagine if Marius's manic creative episodes had happened in the 1980s when it was instantly global and breaching containment to the detriment of vampire kind!

At this point in the book Marius is around 300 years old, so not that far off from Lestat. But he's still young and raw and emotionally dysregulated ! It's just fascinating that Lestat lived in a time where he couldn't just undo what he created.

#deep ass thoughts about vampires #marius de romanus #blood & gold #lestat de lioncourt #marius 🤝 lestat #same guy lol #vampire chronicles

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acourtofinkandpapyrus · 11 months

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A flower with Petals of Flame: Part thirteen (Eris x Reader)

Warnings: Angst, betrayal, secrets, and trauma! Allll the fun stuff-

Part twelve Part fourteen

Tag list: open

Y/n's chat with Azriel does not go well, but at least she has her two friends to support her.

We all sat at the table, and I was probably the happiest one there.

And that was saying a lot.

“How long have you been working with Eris?” Azriel asked me, as if that was why I was acting like this.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like that, he’s a friend. We’ve been for a long time.”

Azriel’s eyes bored into me. “Even after what he did to Morrigan?”

Eris stiffened, and even Sam’s eyes slid over to me.

I hadn’t told Sam. Not because he would judge me, but because it just… I didn’t like talking about it.

I take a deep breath before saying, “Eris didn’t do anything. He was trying to help.”

Azriel’s wings flared as he shot to his feet, the rest of us following. “He left her nailed to a tree.” He growled.

I can feel Eris about to speak, but I cut him off, telling Azriel the thing I thought I would never tell anyone.

“I was the one who told him to leave her there.” I snarl, and I feel tears starting to prick my eyes.

He stops, overloaded.

“I told him to because if Beron knew Eris had helped her, he would have killed both of them. So I told him what to do and I led you there.”

Azriel just stood there. “You left her there. For him.”

“I left her there so that she didn’t have to be forced to marry someone she didn’t love after all she had went through.” I snarl.

“If you want to blame someone, blame me. But Eris? Eris had-”

A warm hand landed on my arm comfortingly, and I looked over to see Eris’s eyes burning softly. “You’re okay.”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

I turn back to Azriel, who is looking at me with disgust.

“You don’t know the life I’ve had Azriel. So even if you think I’m evil, if you think I’m a monster, I am just doing what I can to help everyone.” I say, even though my heart hurts just from the way he’s looking at me.

“I don’t think you're evil.” Azriel says, but stops there.

“That’s because she’s not.” Sam says, stepping in. “I don’t know what she’s told you, but the things she’s told me about her father are nightmarish.”

I wince as I see Azriel’s eyes sharpen. “Sam-”

“No. Do you know what he did to her?” Sam asked, slamming his hand on the table. “Because if you do and you’re still acting as if her life was easy, as if she didn’t do what she had to, then you are one fucking-”

“SAM.” I shout, staring him down.

I knew he was angry on my behalf, but Azriel wasn’t the enemy. He had no idea what my life was like before.

Even if he did, I couldn’t blame him for being this angry, this hurt.

I still hate myself for what happened.

Why did I expect him to feel any differently?

“Listen Azriel, Rhysand can’t know about this. Not yet anyway.” I shift uncomfortably.

His face twitched, and I could tell he was absolutely furious. “And why not?”

I take a deep breath, glancing at Sam. He was going to hate this.

“What if I showed you why?” I say, my heart beating fast in my chest.

This was a secret, possibly bigger than the secret Velaris had been.

Sam gaped at me. “Y/N, we’ve never-”

I shifted into a role I had become more comfortable with is the past few centuries.

Leader.

“Maybe we haven’t, but before this there was never a mass breach in the universe.” I retort, and Sam nods, understanding I needed the floor.

Azriel wasn’t just anyone, he was family.

And I needed him to see me as more right now. To see who I had become. Funny, since I had always been trying to do the opposite.

His curiosity got the better of him and Azriel asked, “So there were smaller ones?”

I dipped my head in a nod. “I’m sure you’re aware, as they were caused by the cauldron. I’m guessing Julian has kept our secrets by your complete unawareness of this situation.” I say, and I know that it irritates Az that he hadn’t realized that Julian had spun the same lie I had.

The easiest lie, and the most believable one was that we had no idea of what had happened after we died. That’s why we had it set as the mandatory explanation in case of situations like these.

“So, I don’t tell Rhysand about any of this, and you… What, tell me more secrets I can’t tell my Highlord, your brother?” He asks, his voice low.

I smile, leaning forward and resting my chin on my interlaced hands. “Come on Az. I know you well enough to know that you hoard secrets like a dragon hoards gold.” I let my smile spread, looking him in the eyes. “I’m offering you the biggest secret of all time. What lies after death.”

He froze, and I knew I had him.

Eris was so close I could scent the surprise on him, but I could tell by the way his hand squeezed my leg under the table reassuringly, that it wasn’t a bad thing.

“I would be betraying my Highlord. He-” Azriel started to say, grinding his teeth.

I cut him off smoothly, “It would not be a betrayal. What I am asking you to do is… It’s asking you to not tell Rhys that I’m acting on my own. He won’t understand, and I don’t want to add my brother to the list of people I have to boss around.” I say, losing the attitude and sitting up straight once again.

Az scoffed, and Sam stiffened as Azriel said snarkily, “You would ‘boss around’ the most powerful highlord in history?”

Back in the afterlife, I would have done some showy display of my power, a threat.

This wasn’t the afterlife though, and as I have to keep reminding myself, Azriel is not the enemy.

I shrug, keeping my face neutral as I say, “Well, I guess we’ll see depending on what you choose.”

Azriel shoved to his feet. “We are going home, and you are telling us everything.” He snarled, and Sam went to draw his dagger again.

I give him a subtle shake of my head, and he smirks, resheathing his blade.

We both knew I could take care of myself.

“I am not going anywhere with you.” I say, raising my chin in defiance. “If you want to go, you can, but I cannot guarantee I will be here when, or if you return.” I speak, raising my voice and letting myself exude an aura of power.

He didn’t notice, and I felt more than I saw him winnow with his shadows.

In a blink I have him pinned against the wall with darkness, his mouth agape as I let starry night surround me, baring my teeth in a snarl.

“Do not touch me.” I breathe, rage flowing freely. “You’re no fucking different than all the other males. You don’t fucking listen.” I say, hoping the hurt in my voice isn’t too obvious as I let him go.

“Leave.”

I can feel him staring at me, but I choose instead to look out the window. Not moving until he left.

I let my shoulders slump slightly.

“Are you okay?” Eris asked me, his voice worried, Sam behind him, obviously sharing the sentiment.

Hey, all it took to get these two to get along was the destruction of a childhood friendship.

I nod, taking a deep breath before turning to Eris, forcing myself to smile. “Well, I don’t think we want to be here when he comes back with my brother, who is sure to be pissed.”

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rose-tinted-vision · 10 months

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Fic: Tales from Tianji Manor

(prev/ao3 link/next)

Relationships: implied Di Feisheng/Fang Duobing/Li Lianhua

chapter summary: Our local murderous gremlin gets exposed to motherly affection. He does not know how to deal with it.

“Where's Di Feisheng?” He Xiaohui asks at breakfast. The spot by Li Lianhua’s left was left conspicuously empty, which neither her son nor Li Lianhua seemed particularly concerned about.

Xiaobao shrugs, shovelling another mouthful of congee into his mouth.

Deeming her son useless in this topic, she turns to Li Lianhua, who gives a small cough, cheeks puffing in what she now recognizes is discomfort before answering, “Lao-Di does that sometimes. He comes and goes as he pleases, please don't worry, Sect leader He.”

Well. That was something to unpack.

She heard from Xiaobao that Di Feisheng came from the Di Family in the southeast region, that secretly conducted Death sorcerer training, creating trained assassins out of children. That explained his high martial skills, as well as his disregard towards social etiquette.

Though he was trying, she could see that. There are certain times where Di Feisheng paused, thinking through his words before suggesting murder to all their problems.

That was not the most pressing issue now, however.

“I told you to address me as ‘mom’,” she admonishes lightly, pushing a bowl of dough fritters towards Li Lianhua, who is careful not to agree but acknowledges her with a nod anyway.

It wasn't an outright refusal, she notes with a degree of satisfaction. She would work at slowly chipping away at his defences for now.

“And as for Di Feisheng, he'd better be back by evening, no one misses dinner here,” she fixes her Xiaobao with a glare.

“He usually disappears for a month though,” Xiaobao looks up in alarm, knowing full well she would make do on her threats, “even Hulijing is unable to track him down!”

“Nonsense, we have He Xiaofeng. Or have you forgotten how your xiaoyi managed to follow you all the way to Jin Mantang’s residence?”

“That was because this traitor set off a smoke flare!” Xiaobao gestures to Li Lianhua. (Who was currently stuffing his cheeks with pieces of dough fritters, the very picture of innocence and nothing like the 'traitor' he had just been accused of being).

“Also, are you calling my xiaoyi a tracking dog?” her Xiaobao huffs in mock indignation.

“You're the one calling her that, not me,” He Xiaohui says dismissively. Though her youngest sister does have a strange affinity for tracking people down, smoke flare or not, strangely enough.

—

(“Try calling for him,” Li Lianhua nudges Fang Xiaobao, who wrinkles his nose at the suggestion.

Li Lianhua shrugs, “it's worked before, no?”

In the end, Fang Duobing had volunteered himself to look for Di Feisheng, citing that the other would likely flee at seeing his xiaoyi. Not out of fear, but from guilt, that his taking her hostage had gotten her stabbed multiple times. He may have a morally gray compass, but he did have his own set of strict moral codes that he stuck to.

Fang Xiaobao pointedly ignores Li Lianhua's ribbing, holding out one of A-Fei’s sashes to Hulijing, who gives it a curious sniff before setting off northwards of the forest.

It wasn't until the sun started to set, painting the sky in various shades of pink, orange and yellow, with Fang Xiaobao muttering curses under his breath that Hulijing returned triumphant.

They eventually find him meditating by the waterfalls nestled in the forest, a lone figure clad in red stark against the cool grey of the cliffs. Hulijing bounds up to him, her barks rivalling the sounds of the crashing waters.

Standing there against the waterfalls that far eclipsed him in height as he pets Hulijing, Di Feisheng looked nothing like the monster in the stories teashop storytellers liked to spin.

Di Feisheng clearly had not expected his zhijis to come seeking him out, nor had he expected that He Xiaohui would be concerned about his absence. He did not know what to make of her demand that he be back for dinner, having managed to get by all his life alone. Never had anyone besides Li Lianhua fed him a meal without ulterior motives).

—

He Xiaohui is considering the merits of tearing up the offensive letter placed in front of her when attendant Xie rushes in, hastily announcing the return of her wayward son-in-law (to-be, but that was a moot point) and her sons.

“I'm famished!” Fang Xiaobao announces, waltzing into the dining hall with his zhijis trailing in behind him.

“Is there an issue?” Di Feisheng addresses her, taking the seat across Li Lianhua. It was hardly a conversation starter, but it was also not a straight ‘what do you want from me’ that his posture was radiating. She would give him points for that.

Unlike Fang Xiaobao, who had tore into his food with vigor upon sitting down, Di Feisheng had paid the veritable array of food no mind, posture tense and coiled for action, still wary after a week of residence in her Tianji Manor.

She had meant to put on her most stern expression, ready to grill them for being late, she really did. But Di Feisheng had looked so bewildered, so lost, his earlier collected demeanour gone when she replied that all she truly wanted was all her family members to be present during dinnertime.

“You…have fixed meal times?” Di Feisheng followed-up, sounding genuinely confused. The question has Li Lianhua subtly perking up in curiosity as well- and He Xiaohui’s heart aches.

That it was such a simple thing as having a meal together- that Di Feisheng likely never experienced -has her feeling choked up.

Truly, fate had not done right by these two men.

From the wet sheen in Fang Xiaobao's eyes, and the fond, almost tender expression he was sporting, she figures that he felt the same way too.

Not trusting herself to speak without breaking down into tears, He Xiaohui nods in response to Di Feisheng's expectant expression.

“Alright then,” Di Feisheng nods, deeming the answer satisfactory, “I shall try not to miss dinner.”

#afaik family dinners in Chinese households are A Given and quite important #i think this is the first fic where i wrote something more dfs centric #!! i do love A-Fei #just struggle with writing him a lil #mysterious lotus casebook fic #mysterious lotus casebook #di feisheng #difanghua #rose writes

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loversdelusions · 2 years

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How would Yandere Deku’s and Kirishima if you write for him , react if his obsession gave him a striptease :D

This took FUCKING FOREVER.

Izuku Midoriya: 🫀Tease...🫀

"I won't do anything, I-If you don't want me to, you know.."

His words were meant as reassurance. He didn't mean it as a challenge.

Unfortunately for Izuku, you did not take it as such a reassurance. He kidnapped you, he keeps you against your will and somehow he believes that it is completely within your right to decide if he gets to touch you? There was nothing in this situation you were in that was within your will. Yet he looked at you with such a look as if he were hurt by your flinch, or by your glare, or by the way you squirmed and fought while he tried to hold you.

"I won't do anything..."

That fucking liar. That fucking monster.

You were going to ruin his fucking life.

Izuku Midoriya, the number one hero, the man who admires his goodness more than anything. It could have made you laugh, still imagining he was the good guy after all that he'd done. His identity was so important to him, he tried to convince himself that he was a good person for not molesting you.

What a saint.

It's too bad that his delusions didn't matter to you. That you would prove to him that he was scum through and through, watch that fake innocent gaze in his green eyes snap. It was why you'd run through the closet he'd bought you, the lingerie section truly convinced you of his deluded nature. He really thought you'd come to accept this. You could only roll your eyes as the dark red strings and lace grazed your hand, a smile tugging at your lips, fully knowing how quickly he'd crumble.

You did not fall short, he'll give you that. Walking into his home after a long day of work the last thing he expected was to see the lights off. Darkness, something he was sure not to leave you in. It made his heart drop. Paranoia dug through his skin, and thoughts raced as fast as he did look for you, checking the doors, the windows, looking for signs of your escape. He couldn't believe there weren't any.

He couldn't believe it when he saw you, either. Short red crop top, neck height fastened at the side with string, unholy short black skirt riding up your thighs, teasing the sight of your flesh, held tightly by the thigh highs, heels, high and undoubtfully difficult to walk in, yet how could it be you held your self with such elegant confidence, sitting at the edge of his desk, red lights illuminating your breathtaking features. You didn't need to move, you'd stolen the air from his lungs.

"Uh..." His words jumbled in a sharp exhale, trying to regain his composure. His words failed him as you stood up, slowly pushing yourself onto your feet, dangerous eyes studying him, as if he wasn't the giant barrel of a man, as if it were you with the keys to his cell. He was mesmerized, by every move, every breath, your hand twisting his useless tie around your fingers, and tugging him, as if he were your pet, guiding him to his chair. And he listened. Let you move him like a pawn, even though his gaze bore into you unnervingly as if he could tell this was off.

You didn't seem to care, moving to the back of the office chair, your fingers, long claws trailing down his shoulder, as you walked to the speaker, away from his eyes, you could feel the burn of his gaze watching you. Your hips may have swayed more, your walk into a strut, and your hands climbing up your thighs and finding themselves rubbing soothing circles underneath your skirt, slow, and sensual, surely grabbing his attention as the skin of your thighs exposed more and more, yet to inevitable hide behind the flowy material once more.

You didn't waste the opportunity as you steadied yourself in front of the speaker, spreading your stance wide, and slowly lowering yourself to turn the speaker on. Izuku didn't miss the way you arched your back slightly, the way your fingers moved down to the power button, the way your skirt flared up just enough for him to see the way your thighs curved into the most fantastic ass, yet covered enough to make him grit his teeth. He surely didn't miss the way your thigh highs rolled down a tad, or the colour of the underside of your black stilettos, the dark red extenuating the darkness, bringing sight to your allure. How could he miss the smoothness of your back? It made his heart hammer against his throat as if he'd swallowed it, holding back his impulses.

It almost made him laugh when the song came on.

Your slow rise, as the music, thrummed through the air. He sat up, "Darling, what--" His voice died when you'd held up your hand, demanding his silence, he watched, your hands toying with the strings of your top as if you knew exactly when the strings fell apart, not a single moment felt as torturous as it did when your top rose, falling just right, allowing the bottom of your breasts to show, nothing more. as if it were made to tantalize him. As if you were made to tantalize him. His eyes followed your every move, hand slowly moving from the line of your skirt, upwards and up until the soft flesh of your breast, he watched as you drew a lazy circle over your nipple, toying with his resolve, hand dipping underneath your supple flesh, moving upwards, with a drop of the beat, harshly and swiftly gripping your neck. Your head moved back, as if in the act itself, your lips parted softly, a soft exhale when your hands continued up to your lips, swiping your bright red lipstick to the side, smudging the Madonna. Your hips swung slowly with the beat, the flounce of the skirt extenuating your movements.

Izuku bit his tongue, the shivers crawling up his spine as if it were your claws that were tantalizing him. He could feel himself push against his dress pants, desperate for release, desperate for you. He held himself back, he didn't dare move, didn't utter a noise, afraid to whisk this dream of his out of his reach. He could only watch helplessly as you lowered down, as if in a drop, and spread your thighs, the damned skirt obstructing his view. He tried to stop all of the raging emotions that were attempting to sully his expression. Though he could feel the dark blush creep up his neck, your expression remained nonchalant, as if staring into his mind, listening to the sick thoughts that devoured his patience. Izuku let out a breath, it felt thick in the room, sickly sweaty and warm.

Slowly, you brought yourself back to a standing position, fingers toying with the skirt that he'd grown to resent. Your hips slowly moved as if he were under them, and his eyes moved to watch your fingers play with the silver zipper, with beat the zipper turned useless, and the skirt fell to the floor. The click of your heels as you stepped over the material... a sight to behold. This time, when you had slowly moved down, hands exploring the suddenly exposed flesh of your thighs, he did not ignore the way your eyes drilled into him, or the absolute godlike vision of your skin against the dark contrasting red heels as you fell in the position, like a cat, knees spread, you moved your body, your chest, against the wood, raising your hips off the floor, then slowly, moving onto your hands and knees, crawling towards him, slowly, under his desk. He moved back, pushed himself and the chair back until he reached the wall, watching you move beneath the desk and closer to his legs, hands moving up his shins and parting his legs, up and down his thighs, and his patience which was already wearing thin snapped.

The moment you moved between his legs, his large hand gripped your face, the green eyes which just a moment ago beheld you in surprise and flustered innocence, stared at you with lust so dark it made shivers crawl down your skin, like a jolt of electricity, he leaned down to whisper into your ear. You could feel his flushed skin, warm and slick with sweat as if he'd been holding back from ruining you, awaiting you to come to him instead. "Doll, what have you done?"

Your breath paused in your lungs when his hands moved to dismantle the strings you'd made in specific consideration. This was only a tease. Nothing was going to happen tonight. Your nails dug into his thighs, "No touching," You hissed.

He chuckled, a dark sound disturbing your confidence. "You started the game, darling." He gave no option for chatter when he pushed his lips against yours, arm snaking around you and forcing you to move closer, to stand up in front of him. When you'd managed to push him off you, you'd realised he'd unlaced the strings on your neck, allowing your top to fall to your waist, and exposing your breasts to his hungry eyes. You groaned, pushing him away and standing roughly in your irritance. Grabbing your top with you, "I said no fucking touching. Fuck off, I am done."

The moment you turned, you were pulled back by your hips, ignoring your yelp, he pushed you on top of himself, holding your face close to his, by your neck while his leg rested between your thighs, forcing you to shift your weight onto his lap. You could feel his breath on your jaw, his hand shifting from holding your thighs apart to travelling up your waist, to touching your newly exposed skin. "No, you're not."

You grit your teeth, fear moving through you while you tried to swallow it down, hyper-aware of his large hand holding your throat. "Izuku, You promised." You might as well have spit the words out.

"The moment your skirt moved up, darling, you should've known my words were dust." He hummed, his eyes shining dangerously, you could feel the smile before you saw it. "You can't be expected to put such a lovely act together and not see the results, right?"

He pushed slightly against your ass and forced an exhale out of your lips. "Don't play a game you can't lose."

"Fucking liar!" You hissed, pushing away from him, to no avail. He laughed, placing a kiss on your jaw while his knee moved against you for friction.

Your gasp of pleasure drove a surge of passion through him."Fucking tease.."

Eijirou Kirishima: 👑 Worship 👑

Kirishima is not the kidnapping type, so if you ever get into a relationship with him, it will be stalk full of manipulation. Though his mind does not really seem to comprehend that you, too, are a sexual creature with your own desires. He really thinks that you simply go along with his wants because you love him.

So when you wanted to 'talk,' his mind went into overdrive about what possible thing he must do to keep you right next to him. "Peaches," He started, walking into the bedroom, you were sitting on the edge of the bed, hands folded, eyes piercing into him. "...Is something wrong?"

"Yes." His heart sank at the words. He felt nervous energy force his fingers to twitch. "Sit," With a simple gesture towards the wooden chair.

He followed your words, and you'd never seen your boyfriend move so quickly. He'd usually contest this, kiss you and try to make you giggle, but he was too nervous, instead he simply just sat in the armchair at the opposite side of the room, legs pressed together and back straight, tapping his foot nervously. "Peaches...Did I do something--?"

You raised your hand to silence him, but instead, opened your phone, sitting in silence, leg crossed over the other, forcing him to sit and stew in his nervous energy. His mind raced. He was surprised when instead of speaking the speakers in the room turned on.

It was almost dreamlike in sequence when you walked slowly to the window centred in the room, sunlight streaming through the window giving you the only warm light in the room, he watched the way you allowed the sun to bathe you in it's light, as if it were basking in your beauty, as if it were in the sky only so it may have the opportunity to touch your skin with it's light. It made Kiri pause, just to stare at the view. The white sundress seemed to stick to your body, underneath the rays, he could see the darkness of your lingerie wrapped around you.

You could see his mind go blank as he took you in. The pleasure which drove through you made your skin light on fire, when his eyes turned to yours. His breath faltered, it took everything out of you to hold back your smile. Instead, you allowed your heavy gaze to fall on him, the sleepy look you gave him already pushed his insides into a hot melting pot in his stomach. "Peaches that dress isn't--"

The minute the song's beat dropped, so did your patience for his morally high attitude. You moved towards him quickly, forcing his words to halt when you slammed your heel onto the wood between his legs, forcing him to pause and stare at you. You could see the vibrant red swirl with temptation, he parted his thighs, leaving room for you. You took him by surprise, pushing your forehead against his, and taking another step onto the chair, standing and straightening your posture, gazing down at him. slowly your hand gripped his hair and pulled him upwards, you could see him gasp, and watched carefully as you moved your hips to the rhythm, holding his head close to you (also for support, but hoping he wouldn't notice), bending slowly, one leg then the other, aware of your dress as it brushed against his skin. You dropped with the beat, on the tips of your toes. You couldn't help but laugh when he jumped, his hands instinctually moving to grip your waist. Wrapping your hands around his neck, you pushed your hips against him, rolling your body against his chest, fully aware of his hands moving to grip your ass underneath the dress he was growing to hate. Slowly, you moved against his chest, inhaling in his scent, making sure his eyes were fully on yours, and watched him shiver.

Kirishima might as well had cut his tongue, cause he sure as hell found himself speechless, somehow aware of your every touch, hell he helplessly watched your chest rise and fall with your heavy breaths. When you'd moved your hands through his hair, your legs moving to either side of him, stradling him as the music slowed, his eyes finally moved to the sundress, the flimsy straps holding it up were tempting his resilience, almost as much as you were while you moved your hips to the music, somehow irritatingly holding enough distance to toy with him, to graze him and steal whatever was holding him from tearing you apart.

His eyes were glued to your skin, the strap of your dress falling over your shoulder, it was enticing him, and he moved to tear it, but you were quicker, sitting up, pushing your forehead to his, and moving to kiss him. Kiri might as well had been salivating, his lips parting before you had even decided on what to do, ready to have you. His breath grew heavier when you leaned in, barely grazing the side of his mouth before you threw your head back, moving in a circle, and then back, only to push against his hard-on, and meet his eyes, before you were on your feet again, and his lap lay empty, clearly betraying what you were doing to him.

You almost laughed when you'd heard his frustrated sigh, the way that his crimson eyes followed your every sensual step as you circled him, the desperate way his hand attempted to hold onto your waist. The next time you approached him andreached over to part his thighs he moved immediately, unaware of the way he was reacting, his eyes bearing into yours unwavering. You stood your back to him, slowly bending over, hips moving to the music, he watched in pure awe as you moved down to a sitting position in between his legs, using his knees to support your weight, and this time allowing both the straps of your dress to slip past your shoulder. He wasted no time and reached to unzip your dress. And you let him.

Your hips swayed to the music, and forced a breath from him long held in when you'd dropped down and spread your thighs, hands moving to your knees, and slowly tracing the skin of your thighs, pushing lace of your dress further and further. You didn't need to look back to know he was watching, you could see his thighs shake slightly in contained excitement. Turning with your knee resting on the floor you threw him a dirty look, your hand resting on his thigh once more. His eyes followed the fabric of your dress as it slid off your shoulders, and down your arms, exposing your skin. Your boyfriend almost looked lost in thought, the only way you could tell he was here was the way his breaths started matching yours as his eyes gazed at your chest, rising and falling. You scoffed, and made sure your nails pushed against his skin as you stood, hand trailing up your thigh.

The music silenced. You took your shot, standing in front of him, and backing up, you slowly let the dress pool around your feet like gold.

The black and gold lingerie underneath felt tighter than ever around you as you watched for his reaction. It stunned you when his eyes widened and his lips parted, and he met your gaze with an innocently startled one. It made your confidence falter a slight, yet you pushed forward, reminding yourself the setting sun behind you reflected your sense perfectly. Kirishima gazed in awe. The golden detailing and jewellery shone in the sun, and he could have sworn he glimpsed a crown around your head in the heat of your majesty.

You stalked towards him as if you'd been walking on air, gracefully despite the constricting wear. Tracing his shoulders as you walked around him, you leaned in and he felt compelled to follow you in mere hope you'd allow him a taste of more than the sinful vision. Yet you didn't kiss him like he so desperately wanted. You walked past him, and he almost felt shame for following you with his head as if he'd been a puppy begging for your divine attention. It was only redeemed when you threw yourself into his lap, and he'd immediately held your body to his, cursing lowly while you threw your head back in laughter, unaware he was still enamoured by the act you'd blessed him with.

You slung your arms around his neck, and pulled him close, and he held his breath, as if you would deprive him of your lips had he let out a lustful breath. Except you only smiled, "Don't be a tease, honey. I didn't lace myself with gold so you can stare."

Saying he'd hungrily taken your lips was an understatement. It was thrilling, watching his eyes darken to black with desire.

Of course he wasn't going to stare. "Peaches..." He breathed after the kiss had stolen it from his lungs, you could feel the grip of his tighten, as if his skin was begging to harden around you, and you were a ta nervous he was about to let it. "I'm about to show you what worship really means."

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totallynotbat · 4 months

Text

A Crafter and a Crow

Tickle Fic, No like click off

I basically turned some of Phil’s vods into one big story, you have been warned for spoilers, this is only the beginning of a possible long series, with multiple time jumps in between.

Friendship only, no ship tags!

TW: Sleep deprivation and Angst.

*~*

Philza blinked slowly as he watched Tubbo build in his giant laggy factory, while he didn’t understand what is happening half of the time when Tubbo is rambling to him about everything and anything about what works and what doesn’t work, he liked that Toby was happy.

Phil wasn’t happy on the other hand, he knew that, in fact, he was very tired. He couldn’t stop thinking about that dream he had, it felt so real and yet not real, like hallucinations almost, vivid or lucid dreams.

The birdhouse was gone last he checked, but the hummingbirds were still there, free, some even following Phil around from all over the island.

Why couldn’t Phil be free, why was he stuck here.

“Phil? Are you alright?” Tubbo asked, concerned about the crow.

“Don’t worry about me Toby, I’m fine!” Phil called out, attempting to brush it off like always.

Tubbo climbed down, walking over to his friend with worry, sitting next to him. “I can tell you are not fine. What’s wrong?”

The older turned his head, revealing the bags under his eyes, which Tubbo looked with concern, before glaring at Phil firmly.

“Come on, let’s warp back to your place.” Tubbo pulled out his waystone and warped with Phil back to the wall, all the way up top at Phil’s base, Phil stared at the two empty beds of where his kids used to be, along with their items, looking away quickly to not show his guilt, as he was dragged downstairs and placed on a couch.

“Mind telling me what’s wrong with you?” Tubbo spoke rather softly and slow. “I want to know what’s wrong Phil, you aren’t normally so tired and monotone, it’s just us, so we can talk if you want.”

“I can’t sleep Toby…” Phil mumbled, glancing off into the distance as he took off his backpack to reveal the clipped and damaged wings.

“Not after that dream it…” Phil felt a small sting at his heart in memory of that dream, seeing his kids things with a hope they were around, begging Cucurocho to bring his family back, he wants them back, he wants it back to normal.

Phil didn’t even realize that he was tearing up and sniffing…was he crying?

Tubbo looked at the older with a look of empathy, never seeing Phil in this state, ever.

Tubbo held out his arms, Phil immediately hugged him in a warm embrace, Tubbo rubbed the olders back as he sobbed. Tubbo tried to brush it off as a dream to try to help calm Phil down when he was first told, he can tell that Phil was starting to question that statement.

“I don’t know what’s real anymore Toby…” Phil hiccuped, his words slightly muffled as he sobbed into Tubbo’s shoulder.

“I know.” Tubbo spoke, softly rubbing Phil’s back, in an effort to calm him down. “You’re okay, it’s gonna be okay Phil.”

The two sat in silence, aside from occasional hiccups here, followed by sobs. Tubbo wiped Phil’s eyes, giving a weak smile to the saddened crow.

Tubbo did gentle rubs on Phil’s sides, making Phil flinch, Tubbo was confused at first, before remembering, “Oh right, your ticklish.”

“Tohohoby…dohohont…” Phil giggled quietly, trying to bat his hands away.

“Don’t do what? Don’t do this?” Tubbo snuck his hands under the light black sleeved jacket to scribble along Phil’s sides, the older squeaked and leaned back on the couch, wings flaring up as he laughed.

“Hehehey-! Tubbo-! Hahahaha! Hehehehehe! Hahahaha!” Phil just broke into a fit of wheezy laughter, giggling wildly and squirming around.

Tubbo grinned as Phil wiggled around in a fit of giggles, the inventor trying to get every spot he could reach.

“Hmmm, need to do some fixing about this.” Tubbo teased, scribbling at Phil’s ribs, going in between the sensitive bones. “Seems like we got a little case of a giggle monster here.”

“Mmm! Hehehehe!” Phil squeaks, moving his arms above his head out of instinct, Tubbo immediately wiggling his fingers into Phil’s underarms.

“Awww, who’s a giggle monster, you are! You are!” Tubbo teased, making Phil immediately drop his arms down, pushing at Tubbo’s hands.

“Tuhuhuboo! Nahahaha!” Phil wheezed.

“I can’t believe I forgot you were ticklish! Look at you, wiggling around like a worm, so cute!” Tubbo grinned, making Phil’s already red face go darker.

“Quhuhuhuit itit! Ahahaha!” Phil was trying to slap Tubbo’s hands away, the younger didn’t go away, he just moved down to his hips, squeezing them rapidly.

Phil squealed, letting out a small snort, making Tubbo squeeze them again, the older having the same reaction.

“What a cute little lee you are Phil, you are fun to tickle!” Tubbo teased, tracing his hips.

Phil’s laugh just flowed out of his mouth, he was giggling, high pitched giggling to be accurate, he melted at the soft tickling Tubbo gave him.

“Awww!” Tubbo cooed, rubbing his thumb on his ribs, making Phil flinch and wiggle around.

“Ehehehehe! Tohohoby!” Phil squeaked, squirming around as much as possible. “Thahahat tickles!”

“I know it tickles! That’s the point!” Tubbo smirked, raising a hand up to scribble at Phil’s neck, nails digging into the black feathers spreading on him.

Phil squeaked, soft giggles making his way out as he turned to mush in Tubbo’s hands. “Nohoho! Nohot neheheck tihihickles! Hehehehe!”

“Oh! That was a giggle! Aw! Bit of a ticklish neck, huh Phil?” Tubbo teased, wiggling his fingers into the soft feathers of his ears, making them twitch and flap around.

“Ehehehe! Nahahat my ears! Hehe!” Phil was blushing a light red, giggling, as small tears of mirth build up at the corner of his eyes, turning to mush in the younger’s hands, his ears have always been a melt spot. Phil made a small strangled squeal as Tubbo touched his stomach, he wasn’t laughing to his fullest yet, Tubbo needed to change that.

Tubbo wiped the man’s eyes, smiling at the giggles that slipped out. “Now let’s see, how about…here!” He dug his hands underneath Phil’s shirt, scratching at his stomach.

Phil squeaked, breaking into giggles as Tubbo scribbled at his sensitive skin. “Nohoho! Plehehease! Nahahat there! Hehehehe!”

Tubbo cooed, wiggling and spidering his fingers over Phil’s belly, making Phil squeal and giggle happily at the light fluttering fingers. Tubbo smiling at Phil’s laughter, nuzzling his face into Phil’s neck, nibbling gently.

“Hehehehehehe! Nohoho!” Phil leaned his head back and just laughed, wings flapping happily.

Tubbo smiled, stroking his hands through Phil’s wings, making Phil whine slightly.

It took Tubbo a moment to figure out what was going on. When he did, he felt a smirk spread across his face. He ran his hands through Phil's wings again. Phil pressed his lips together, but he couldn't stop small giggles from slipping out.

“Hehehe-! Tuhuhubbo! Hehehehe!” Phil pressed his hands into his face.

“Does this tickle Phil?” Tubbo teased. “I think it does yes it does! Look how giggly and blushy you are~!” He scribbled into the feathers.

“Ehehehehe! Nohohoho! Hahahaha!” Phil giggled, trying to wiggle away to hide his blushing red face.

“Tubbo! Hahahaha-!” Phil squeaked, leaning back against the couch. The sensations fluttered on his wings, unbearable but they also felt nice, Phil then let out a small chirp.

Tubbo blinked, stopping for a minute, looking over at the flock of crows perched on the window, then looking back at Phil and scribbling into his wings again, hearing another chirp leaving Phil’s mouth.

Tubbo gasped. "You chirp?!" He grinned and cooed softly as Phil nodded, running a hand through Phil’s hair as Phil hid himself into his hands. “That’s adorable!”

Tubbo continued poking and prodding at the mans wings, Phil giggling with occasional chirps slipping out.

“This is so cute Phil, oh my gods.” Tubbo cooed, slowing down after a couple of minutes. “I wanna try something…” He spoke, scooting closer.

“Ready?” Tubbo asked, Phil nervously nodding, Tubbo leaned down and blew a raspberry on the back of Phil’s neck, making the older squeal, cackling.

Phil squealed, small snorts peppered in-between his laughter, wiggling around as much as possible, pushing at Tubbo’s head gently with his hand.

Tubbo smiled, slowing down, doing light traces on Phil’s ears, making him melt and giggle quietly. Tubbo grinned, blowing a mini raspberry behind his ears. Phil’s laugh lit up the entire room at this point, Tubbo couldn’t even help but to laugh with him.

“There we go, nearly done.” Tubbo spoke, looking at Phil’s exposed stomach, gently poking it, making Phil squeak and flinch.

“You ready or do you need a few?” Tubbo asked, resting his hands on Phil’s stomach.

Phil held a hand out to stop for a break, Tubbo nodding, giving him a few minutes to breathe, after a couple of minutes, he rested his hands on Phil’s sides.

“I’ll be gentle I promise.” Tubbo spoke, wiggling his fingers on Phil’s sides as he lifted his shirt up again, moving onto Phil’s belly, which made him flinch with a small grin.

“Let’s see, ticklish here…?” Tubbo poked at his side, making Phil squeak.

“How about here?…” Tubbo moved his hands to his belly, tracing his hands on his skin.

“Ehehehe! Hehehe! Nohoho! Hahahaha!” Phil began to giggle again. Tubbo smiled, tracing his nails on his stomach.

“Nahahat fahahair! Ehehehe!” Phil squeaked.

“It’s fair with cheer up tickles!” Tubbo smiled, scribbling at his belly. “And you definitely needed some!”

Tubbo fluttered his fingers on Phil’s stomach before one finger began circling the avian’s bellybutton, his circle getting smaller and smaller.

“Round and round the garden goes the little birdie~” Tubbo teased in a sing song voice. “One step…” His finger wiggles closer. “Two steps…” Closer…

Tubbo then traced the rim for a couple seconds before dipping his finger into the giggle spot. “Tktktktktktk!”

Phil then screeched like a bird, cackling wildly. “TUHUHUBBO! HAHAHAHAHA! THAT TICKLES SO BAHAHAD!”

Tubbo smirked, blowing a raspberry on Phil’s bellybutton, shaking his head to brush his hair on his skin, grinning at the scream that left Phil’s mouth.

“AHAHAHAHA! PLEASEHEHEHE! TUHUHUBBO!” Phil squealed, laughing wildly, small tears of mirth at the corner of his eyes as he leaned his head back.

Tubbo grinned, slowing to a stop, rubbing the fizzing in Phil’s stomach, Phil melting into the touch, Tubbo gently scribbling where his wings met his back.

“Dohohont-! Nohoho! Hehehe!” Phil hiccuped, small snorts peppered between his giggly laughter.

Eventually, Phil’s eyes closed, dropping down, giggling getting quieter, Tubbo stroking Phil’s hair.

“…sleep well Phil.” Tubbo smiled, the avian falling asleep peacefully.

#lee!philza #ler!tubbo #mcyt tickle #qsmp tickle #tickle fic

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