#masked serial killers i do not respect: THIS FUCKING BITCH

[starlit-mansion]

You would think that as a wi//iam aft0n enjoyer, i would enjoy poor edward even a little bit since broadly there's some similarities but every time i see his nasty little mug on the fl loading screen, i want to punt him into next week

[powerfultenderness]

Death's Angel

Pairing: König (stalker/serial killer)/Fem!Reader

Rated: Explicit. 18+

Summary: "Please just let me go! I promise I won't tell! I have a wife! I have a child!" He's heard all the pleas before, but König is finally struck with the oddest dying wish he's ever heard. "Can you kiss me?"

Word Count: 22,480

Warnings:  Rape/Non-Con: Sexual assault, I do NOT go into detail on that part, but uh, it's there. Dub-Con/Consensual non-consent: (+mentions of rape/cnc porn). CNC as a coping mechanism, which (in this case) is dubious as it is not discussed beforehand. + Blood play, knife play, degradation. (Non-consensual) voyeurism (König is a stalker). Violence (König is a serial killer). Fluff (lol it's actually pretty sweet)

A/N: Based on [an ask] I got a couple of months ago. 4 parts in 1. [Read on AO3] for chapter divisions.

[Multi-fandom Masterlist]

[Death’s Kiss]

He cursed himself for getting distracted. But, as much as the military would like to believe he isn't, he is only human. And a particularly buxom woman overtly flirting with him had drawn his eyes from his target. He rejected the woman's advances (maybe he will find her later, there was nothing quite like fucking after killing), and went about searching for his target. Unfortunately he had to be discreet, he couldn't just push people out of his way, as much as he would love to.

He caught sight of a back exit and followed his instincts, they hardly ever led him astray, and took the chance that his target had left this way. He’d only taken a few steps into the dark alley when he heard sounds of a struggle. ‘What’s this?’ He followed the sound of a frustrated groan quickly followed by a “fuckin’ bitch!” and a woman’s scream cut short. 

König stuck to the shadows, plenty around this late, and slipped his sniper hood on as he rounded a dumpster. There was his target, a man in his thirties, with one hand over a woman’s mouth and the other holding a knife he just shoved into the woman’s stomach. 

Interesting. König couldn’t exactly say what drew him to kill certain targets. He just saw someone and decided. Sometimes he’d do recon, other times, like tonight, he’d just see what the night had in store for him. This was the first time he had come across one of his targets committing well, if the woman’s torn dress and the man’s hand now stuffed under her skirt were anything to go by, sexual assault and likely murder. 

König could understand murder. He might even respect it. But he could not tolerate rape. There were always one or two men in his unit he had to keep an eye on. Who were likely to take advantage of the women of a war torn country. Not only were those the easiest of his victims to cover up, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the higher ups placed them on his team on purpose. Let him deal with the troublemakers before they get out of hand. 

Why he should have contempt for one heinous act over another was also something he didn’t bother to think about. Thus he didn’t bother to think when he pulled his target off of the woman. 

-

Red. He’d forever associate this moment with red. Your eyes, which caught his for a fraction of second as he grabbed the man’s shoulder, were red, either from tears or because the man had hit you, or both. There was a bright red ribbon that matched the color of freshly spilled blood hanging loosely from your hair, spiraling elegantly down your shoulder before getting stuck to your skin with blood. Blood, dark red and spilling freely in some places, already clotting in others, almost looked fake. Too…pretty. Most beguiling of all, were splashes of red across your lovely white dress, from the top, which was now ripped free of your body, to the flared skirt.  

Red had always been his favorite color. 

The man was quick enough on his feet to regain his balance and pull out of König’s grasp, if only for a moment, as he reeled and threw a wild punch at König.

König caught the first easily, smiling under his mask, as the man’s eyes went wide as he realized how much bigger König was. “F-fuck!” 

He tried to yank his fist back, which König let go of as he hooked one boot behind the man’s foot. He chuckled as the man flailed and fell on his ass with an undignified scream. Before the man could get back to his feet and run away, König planted his boot on his chest and leaned down. 

“What should I do with you, hm?” König hummed playfully while leaning down and pressing his weight onto the man’s chest even more. He had been planning on taking the man to a secondary location, an out of the way warehouse at the edge of town, so he could take his time. But even now he was aware of a second set of eyes on him.

“N-nothing! You can have her, let me go!” The man struggled against König’s boot, and struggled to breath as König pressed down again. 

“Her?” He looked over his shoulder at you, hunched against a wall with blood slowly forming a puddle around you. 

You should have been crying for help, or trying to get to your phone that he could see a few feet from you. You should have been trying to save your life. But instead you were watching him. Your eyes were glazed over as your life slowly drained away, but you were watching him. No. You were watching him kill your attacker, waiting to see what happened. And a shiver of excitement ran down his spine. He never had a witness before…

Then he looked down again, “what use is a dead woman?” 

That’s when the man screamed, using what little strength he had to try to punch König’s leg. 

“Ow.” König deadpanned, but removed his foot from the man’s chest anyways. 

He let the man scramble to his feet, but when he turned to run away, König grabbed him by the back of his head, his giant hand making a viscous grip in the man’s hair, and yanked him back. The man screamed, hands flying to the back of his head to try to pry König’s hand off of him. König lifted the man into the air before slamming him face first into the brick wall in front of them.

Not even the muffled and gurgled screams could drown out the sickening crunch of bone. While still holding the man’s face into the brick wall, he turned to look at you, looking for the familiar fear that should be in your eyes. There was none. Again, you weren’t even looking at him, not really. You were looking at the man, weakly struggling against König’s hold. 

Hm. There was no fear in your eyes. But you were alert to…something. Too close to Death, maybe? He wondered what it would take for you to react.

Without even looking back at the man, he pulled his fist back for a moment, the man gasping for air through broken teeth, and slammed him back into the wall. It was at that point that the man went limp in his hand. Your only reaction was to cough, blood spraying from your mouth and down your chin.  

‘Nothing?’

Returning his attention to the man, König pulled the back from the wall again and with his free hand grabbed the side of the man’s face. In one quick motion he pulled and snapped the man’s neck. That earned him…a cough for sure, but, was that a laugh turned to a cough? 

He dropped the man and kicked the body over, making sure that he was really dead, when he noticed you moving out of his peripheral. You had wrapped both hands over the handle of the knife protruding from your stomach.

“You’ll only bleed out faster.” He raised his voice and turned his head enough to look at you again.

You froze and looked up at him as he slowly turned from the man to you. From where he had planted himself, he took  in more of your appearance, of your wounds. Your hands, now resting weakly in your lap, were cut from a blade and scraped up from the brick wall you were pushed into and cement below you, proving that you had at least attempted to fight back before being overpowered. There was a large gash below your neck and over your collarbone that leaked blood onto your nude chest. A shame, a quick thought crossed his mind, that such a pretty pair of tits is going to die.

His eyes followed down the rivulet of blood from your chest to your waist. Oh. Cherries. What he initially mistook as blood splatter all over your pretty white dress was in fact part of the dress itself, a pattern of cute little cherries. What a vision you were, must have looked like a little angel before you met your fate. 

“Hey,” you croaked out in a heavy, wet, sigh. 

Since it seemed to take so much effort to get one word out, he did you the favor of moving closer to you. Once he was near enough to you, his eyes drifted down to the knife. He didn’t kill that man to save you. In fact, it was his intent to let you die. He could finish the job. Do it quickly too, as a mercy. 

“Can you-” You breathed out another heavy sigh, attempting to curb a cough. “-kiss me?”

König’s eyes snapped up to your face, blinking and his head tilting even more as he processed your question. Did he hear you right? “What?” 

“I want,” you paused and licked your lips that were both dry but slick in blood. “My last kiss to be my choice.” 

Ah! He blinked once more as he looked at your pathetically small body and the puddle of blood under you. You knew you were going to die. 

He never had a witness to one of his killings. He also never fulfilled someone’s dying wish. An odd night of firsts. He dropped down to one knee next to you and nodded. “Alright.” What was the harm in it?

With one gloved hand he gently tilted your chin towards him and lifted the bottom of his hood with the other. His eyes slid shut as he softly pressed his lips to yours. He meant for it to be chaste, just a small peck to honor your wish, but the metallic tang of your blood slipped into his mouth, and he liked it. The coppery blood was tinged with a hint of what he could only describe as sweet. He had never tasted blood like that. His own was acrid in comparison. He wanted more. 

He leaned down closer and pressed his lips just a bit harder against yours, agitating the cut on your lip. He swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, gently sucking on the cut in your lip to draw more blood into his mouth and he had to hold back a moan. As tempted as he was to shove his tongue further, a pained whimper from you stopped him. He pulled away, licking his lips as he dropped his hood back in place.

You coughed out a muttered “thank you,” and sighed, like you were ready to accept your death. 

Too bad he hadn’t met you earlier in the night, he thought as he looked at you again. Then, and he’s not sure why he even tried, he pulled a knife from his belt and began to cut away at the top of your dress that was already hanging off of your body. “Remain calm, Engel.” 

Once he had a sufficient amount of fabric he pressed it around the knife wound. “Keep pressure here.” 

Your hands, small and weak, took over and despite the pained cry, you did as he said.

He stood up quickly and picked up your phone, or what he simply assumed was your phone. The screen was cracked but still lit up as he pressed a side button. The emergency number was just one press away from being dialed. 

He hit dial and returned to you, helping you stem the bleeding once more, and held the phone up to your mouth. “Tell them where we are. You might live if they’re fast enough.” 

You coughed out an answer to the operator, barely managing a weak “help” with a street name and the name of the club you stepped out of. 

You were unconscious by the time he saw emergency lights, but at least you were still alive. He remained with you as long as he could, daring even a few seconds too long, and slipped away before police and paramedics found you. And the body of the man who attacked you.

Even as König sat in his truck, forcing himself to relax, he knew it would be better for him if you died. 

He hoped you lived. 

[Death’s Touch] 

A week ago he met a dying angel with sweet and pretty blood. He expected the police to show up within a day or two. Even if he hadn’t shown his face to you, or done something so stupid as to give you a name, how many behemoth men with Austrian accents were there in the city? That simple description of him was the reason why he was careful there were no witnesses to his killings. That simple description was why he had considered letting you die in that alley. 

But the police never showed up. 

König frowned as he fit the last piece of the gun he had been meticulously cleaning in place. Did the police not show up because you…died? He waited too long to help you and now he’d never even get to know your name.

Of course, he didn’t know for sure that you were dead, and that had him anxious. He had to know.

A few days later, and an I.O.U to Hutch, König was able to read the police report from that night. He learned three important things. The first was that you were still alive. The second was that there was no mention of him, or even a rescuer. No description of a large man. No APB out on him. And lastly, he learned your name and address.

You lived in a modest flat, the worst thing about it was its utter lack of security. There wasn’t even a gate. It was too easy to find various watch points that looked into your flat. Or would have. You apparently weren’t in the habit of opening your curtains. Only a good thing, as far as he was concerned, who knows what kind of creeps could be watching?

For a day, he wondered if he had the right flat. He’d been watching all day and didn’t see you once. Just before his patience wore out the next day, however, food was delivered to your flat and he finally caught a glimpse of you again. 

That was it. The confirmation he needed. You were alive and for whatever reason you didn’t tell the police about him. Both good things. 

He could leave. He could forget about you now. 

…

It was two days later when you finally left your flat. Yes, he was still watching your flat, a sense of relief flooding him every time you opened the door for food. 

He followed you until you parked at a clinic. He knew there would be cameras all over the place, so he continued driving and didn’t pull into the same parking lot as you. Instead he drove to the next light, made a u-turn and parked at the drug store across the street. 

An hour and a half later he saw you leave the clinic. You were fast, one might even say you were lightly jogging. As he started his truck to follow you, he realized that you walked at that same speed when you left the flat. 

“Oh, my little angel. Are you frightened?” 

Too scared to leave the safety of your home most days, and barely leaving to see a doctor. Well, he couldn’t blame you.

A part of him was content knowing that he would be able to easily find you now. 

Just his luck, though, his leave was up and he had to ship out to a new base. Hopefully, by time he got back you would still be holed up in your little flat, safely tucked away for him.

-

By the time he was granted leave again, it had been four months since you were attacked. It didn’t take him long to find you again. Of course you were at home, and that morning he followed you to an office, then back home. A routine. Having a solid routine helped with his own anxiety, of course it would ease yours. 

The only thing that did surprise him was that from his old vantage point, and with the help of a scope, he was able to see into your bedroom now. Not a full view, but the curtains were cracked just enough. The weather had been getting better, had you opened your window at one point and weren’t so diligent with the curtains when you closed it? 

Blue light softly illuminated your room as you settled into bed that night. He could sympathize with you. He knew plenty of men who could not sleep without the aid of some kind of white noise. But as he watched you through his scope he realized that the tossing and turning he thought was keeping you awake was more intentional than not. There was no mistaking the way you were rolling your hips.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he leaned forward in his truck, as if that could somehow get him a better view through your window. 

His dick twitched when you turned to lay flat on your stomach, your hips rocking faster against the pillow (or blanket?) that you had between your legs. He thought about you in that alley, looking all pretty so close to death, “-kiss me?” and tasting so sweet. 

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, your head hanging down but still turned away from him. Not that he could really make out your figure fully, his mind was filling in what he could not see. One of his hands dropped to his crotch to adjust his pants, but didn’t touch his semi-hard dick. He liked to think he had more self control than that. Until he remembered that little whimper you let when he kissed you too hard and he needed to hear you again.

Before he could stop himself to weigh his decision, he was already out of the truck and halfway across the parking lot. He was called a human battering ram, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be stealthy, or pick a lock. In fact, he was already trying to think of a way to get you new, better, locks since it was so easy to break into your flat. 

The lights were all off and in dark clothes and his sniper hood, it was easy to blend into the shadows. The place was small, the door opened into an open concept living room to kitchen. He paid no mind to furnishing, focusing instead on the light that emanated from the bedroom. 

As he got closer to the door, left slightly ajar, the sound of heavy breathing got louder. It was a sound that sent an excited thrum through his veins as he leaned against the wall and peeked into the bedroom.

In the time it had taken for him to enter your flat, you had switched positions again. You were sitting up on your knees, back towards him (the door, rather), with a blanket pooled around you and a pillow between your thighs. You weren’t wearing anything provocative, just a large tee shirt from what he could see, but it was bunched up around your hips just reaching your bare thighs. 

He could feel his body getting hotter, his dick getting harder, but he was trained well enough to keep his breathing steady, quiet. Fuck though, what he would give to see you from the front, or below. To have you riding his cock like that, your soft hands planted firmly on his chest as you were now bracing yourself on the bed. 

You let out a gasp, such a sweet sound that went straight to his dick, and arched your back, one hand flying behind you to steady yourself while the other pulled the pillow harder against you. He closed his eyes for a second, savoring your breaths, as he imagined gripping your hip, you’d probably cry out from how rough his hands were, but you’d like it anyway. He imagined watching his cock stretching out your little pussy while his other hand played with your clit.

When he opened his eyes again, he glanced over at the laptop (the source of light that he initially mistook for a television) but it wasn’t angled right for him to see what was on the screen. It was obvious, with the way you kept your eyes on the screen, though. There was no sound that he could hear, so he figured you were wearing earbuds. What kind of porn did his little angel like to watch? Huge cock, perhaps? Did you fantasize about taking a cock as big as his? 

Underneath his hood he had to bite down on his lips to keep from groaning, especially when you started to moan as you started to bounce and grind your pussy harder onto that stupid fucking pillow. He could give you something so much better to rub your pussy on. 

One of your hands snaked under your shirt to play with your tits, your whines getting a little louder and he squeezed his fists hard. If he touched himself now, he wouldn’t stop until he came, and that was a little too risky right now. 

Just as he was about to give in and stuff his hand down his pants, you let out a muffled moan, one hand covering your mouth, even though no one was (supposed) to be around to hear you. Your hips slowed down to gentle rolls as you leaned forward, slowly stretching out and riding out your orgasm. His hips jerked forward, seeking friction against nothing, and his eyes rolled back at your moan. 

Your little whimpers still filling the air only made his cock throb painfully hard in his pants. He remained still, watching as you slowly got up and moved to the other side of the room. Judging by the light suddenly flooding the room for a second only to fade when he heard a door close, he assumed it was the bathroom. He sighed, leaning against the wall, and took a deep breath, hoping to catch your scent. 

He quickly left while you were cleaning up, and took extra care to make sure your door was locked. 

As soon as he made it back to his truck, he tore off his gloves, shucked his pants down just enough to pull his dick out and spit in his hand. He leaned back, eyes closed as he recalled what he had just seen with vivid detail. 

"Mmm, fuck. Engel." He mumbled under his breath as his hand pumped fast strokes up and down his cock. 

He could still see you humping your pillow, still hear the symphony of your moans filling the air. He squeezed harder, rolled his hand over the tip of his cock and spread the ample precum down the shaft. He was so close already. His hips bucked up as he fucked his fist, picturing you bouncing on his cock. He groaned, your name slipping out of his mouth, even though you had yet to formally introduce yourself to him. 

His whole body tensed, his breath coming out in desperate ragged pants, as he stroked himself faster. A litany of curses, in both English and German, filled the cabin as he came. He continued to stroke himself slowly, with a loose grip, as he eased himself down, just as had. He even imagined himself burying his nose in the crook of your neck, or resting his forehead on your shoulder, making you whimper from lazy and sloppy kisses.

He finally opened his eyes, a spark of sadness in his heart as he saw nothing but the roof of his truck instead of the vision that was you. He sighed and reached the hand that wasn't covered in his own cum around the passenger seat to grab a few napkins he'd thrown there earlier. 

Once he cleaned up, as well as he could, he returned home. He just needed a few hours of sleep. He knew your schedule, he'd return later.

-

He arrived back at your flat after you should have left for work. He scanned the car lot to make sure your car was gone (it was) and made sure the coast was clear to break into your flat again (it was). This time he did take a moment to take in the space. Everything was meticulously clean, spotless, not even dust in high up places. He wondered if you were like this before the attack, or if this was a result of self isolation. 

Then he moved over to the bedroom. Just like the living room, everything was nicely in order and the bed was perfectly made. Excited warmth spread through him when he saw two pillows sitting on your bed. He slipped his hood off, hooking it in his waistband, and dropped onto the bed. He took a deep breath and nuzzled his face into one of the pillows. An incredibly intoxicating mix of perfume and detergent and you filled his senses and he hummed in delight. 

One hand reached up and gripped the other pillow, feeling the softness, about to bring it to his chest when he paused. He spotted your laptop on the nightstand and sat up. He picked it up, a tube of cherry chapstick rolling to the other side of the nightstand, and opened it up. He watched the screen as it loaded. 

No password? Well, he supposed that made sense considering you lived alone. 

Now, he tapped away, what had you so worked up last night? 

His eyebrows shot up, eyes a little wide, as he made his way through your browser history. “Oh, Engel.” He felt himself getting excited as saw various types of CNC and rape porn. “You still think about that night.” Honestly, he did too. 

Before he got too turned on, he made sure to clear the history and set the laptop back where he found it. Then he got up and straightened out the bed. 

If that was what you wanted, he would be happy to help fulfill your fantasies.

-

It had been four months since your attack. Everyone around you had been sympathetic at first. It was a bit overwhelming, having people you barely talked to go out of their way to make sure you weren’t feeling unsafe. It only took two months for them to move on. It was a blessing in that you felt like you finally had space to breathe, but now people were unpredictable, unwanted casual touches or getting too close to you, and it had you retreating back to your cubicle every time. 

When you declined invitations to go out, people would joke that you were being boring. Maybe it was time you moved on too?

The next time you were invited out, you agreed, on the condition that you didn’t have to go home to change. 

“Yay! That’s fine! Trust me, it’ll be fun!” Your friend and coworker said as she slapped hand on your shoulder.

You winced and moved out of her touch with the excuse of needing to get back to your desk. The rest of the day was thankfully uneventful and you soon found yourself at a new bar.

Thirty minutes in, once the appetizers were gone and the alcohol flowing freely, your work friends got to be a little much. You didn't want to drink, you were assured that no one would be getting drunk. That was wrong, of course, and you silently wondered if you were invited just to be designated driver and get everyone home safely. You were not going to do that.

It was easy to slip away unnoticed. You just needed some space and so headed towards the back where the bathrooms were. 

For a Friday night it felt oddly empty. Maybe because it was out of the way, maybe because it looked like an employee only area. Whatever the case, you’re thankful for-

You didn’t even have to catch your breath before you were suddenly pushed into a wall, a large hand clasp around your mouth preventing you from screaming. Fear and panic shot through your body as memories of the night you were attacked surfaced, fueling your struggle. Not again, not here, not with so many people around. 

Both of your hands pulled at the hand on your mouth and you finally looked up only to freeze. Even the panic in you seized up, unsure whether or not you were being threatened. Piercing blue eyes stared at you from underneath a black hood. The bleach stained tear streaks are a frightening illusion of humanity that you’re not certain is even there. 

“You!” Well, at least that what you tried to say, his hand still muffled your voice.

This man, the man who saved you that night, held you up against the wall, your toes barely scraping the floor, with one hand covering your mouth. It was almost the exact same position your attacker held you in right before he stabbed you. Part of you wanted to panic still, had your heart racing and breathing quickly. But another part of you was just…confused. He wasn’t doing anything else but holding you. If he had wanted to kill you, among other things, he could have done it back in that alley. Instead he saved you. He killed the man who attacked you. He helped you call an ambulance. He stopped you from bleeding out. You didn’t even say a word about him to the police. So why would he want to hurt you now?

You tried to calm your breathing as you stared up into his eyes. Cold blue locked you into place, but the danger in his eyes wasn't malice. It was something else entirely. 

Finally he lifted his hand from your mouth, you drawing in a gasp of air, and set you fully back on your feet. His free hand remained firmly planted on the wall beside your head, keeping you in place flush between him and the wall. Then he gently traced your bottom lip with his thumb, landing where a now healed cut once split your lip. Your heart raced, heat blooming across your face, as you remembered his kiss. That kind of intensity in a kiss, in any other situation, would have been erotic. Really, you had been on the verge of death and it was still probably the best kiss you'd had in years. 

You whimpered at his touch. He had been so rough even though he thought you were going to die and now the pressure of his thumb on your lip sent an arousing wave of fear through you. 

He leered down at you, eyes starting to dilate, "tell me to stop." 

With your heart hammering in your chest, it took a moment for you to register his words. What? 

You opened your mouth, no words forming, and his thumb slipped past your lips and grazed your teeth. You whined, which only seemed to spur him on, and he pushed against your jaw even more, forcing your mouth wider. “Speak up, Engel.” 

He was so close to you, his knee slid between your legs, rubbing against your core and pushing you higher against the wall again. You let out a shuddering gasp, your hands flying from him in an attempt to stabilize yourself against the wall, but you made no move, made no demand, to stop him. He rocked his knee up, grinding slowly and gently into your pussy, drawing a quiet moan from you. Your pussy clenched when he put pressure on your clit and you bit down on his thumb, hot tongue brushing against the invading digit. 

König grinned, though you could not see it, and chuckled. He leaned even closer to you, hood pooling over your shoulder and growled in your ear. “Fucking slut.” 

This time your gasp was cut short as he slapped a hand across your mouth again. He lifted you with ease, tucked you against his body and dragged you out of the bar through the back door, not one person seeing the quick departure. 

You struggled against him, hands flying to the one over your mouth and you clawed at him, you kicked your feet but he was so big and tall that he easily held you above the ground. He wanted to chuckle. You reminded him of a feral kitten caught by animal control. Just as cute, or cuter, even.

He didn’t drop you until he reached the side of the bar. There was a gate separating the dingy little alley and the parking lot, decorative trees planted near the gate. It was unlocked, he made sure it was before he approached you, but it still would still provide the illusion that you were trapped.  

You grunted when your feet hit the ground, stumbling forward into the brick wall. You tried to duck around the man, but he easily swung you back in front of him, pushing you against the wall, though he cushioned the back of your head with one large hand.

You looked up at him as you drew in panicked, quick breaths. Just like before, he leered down at you as if he was waiting for you to say something. You bit your lip, his eyes flicking down to watch as your teeth worried at your bottom lip. “Wh-what do you want?”

His eyes looked back up and slowly he lifted a knife you hadn't even seen him grab to your throat. You stilled and tipped your head back, attempting to get the blade away from your delicate skin. There was a scar on your neck that you usually kept covered up, but like this, it was exposed to him.

He traced the scar with the tip of his knife, “what do you want, Engel?”

You swallowed thickly, holding as still as possible so he didn't slice through your skin. And you didn't answer him.

He huffed, “do you want me to stop?” The knife dragged down the scar to the collar of your shirt. “That's all you have to say, my dear.”

As much as you tried to control your breathing, your chest was heaving, drawing his eyes down to it for a moment before he looked up again. That hood made it difficult to read him, but his eyes were so expressive. You knew what he wanted. The heat in his eyes matched the nearly overwhelming heat his large body gave off. The same heat you could feel swelling in your body. You swallowed again, your mouth refusing to answer his question.

“No?” The knife slipped underneath your collar and he tugged, slicing through the fabric. 

It was so similar yet different to the sound of fabric being torn apart and ripped off of your body. It was cleaner, sharper and the definite but soft scratch of the tip of the blade on your heated skin sent your pulse wild. He hummed as he cut open your shirt, revealing the plain bra underneath.  

You hadn't even realized just how hard you were breathing, how much your chest heaved with every breath, until his blade bounced on the swell of your breast and he sucked his teeth. “Stay still.” He growled out, eyes flicking up to your eyes and away from your exposed chest.

You bit back a high pitched gasp, holding your breath as he dragged the blade across your chest, until he reached the left bra strap.

You shivered as you heard the soft ping of the knife slicing through the strap. He once again looked up from your chest to your eyes, his own narrowing in disapproval. “Perhaps you want to be hurt, hm?”

You whined and squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to hold your breath again to remain as still as possible. He slowly moved the tip of the knife across your chest again, this time angling it so more of the edge touched your skin. Another ping and you flinched as the other strap of your bra was cut.

He was silent for only a moment, the flat of the blade resting near the middle of your chest, just by your left breast, every beat of your heart making it jump ever so slightly. You could hear his heavy breaths, almost feel them against your face, even through that terrifying hood. For a moment, in that silence, you thought you were safe. That he was done.

Until he quickly shoved his free hand up the back of your shirt and unhooked your bra clasp. You squealed, eyes flying open, and jumped as he ripped what remained of your bra off of you. You only caught a glimpse of his eyes, blown wild with lust, before he spun you around and pushed you face first into the brick wall.

Your hands, which had been covering your chest in an attempt to save your dignity, were now bracing you against the wall so you didn't smash your face into it. You shivered again, remembering how he killed your attacker months ago, by shoving him so hard against a brick wall that he lost consciousness.

The hand holding the knife came to rest to the right side of your face against the wall. The metal gave an unnerving scrape against the brick that caused another shiver to run down your spine. His left hand snaked around to grope your left breast. His large hand, hot and rough, cupped your soft flesh with ease.

“Such pretty tits,” he hummed as he pinched your nipple, drawing another distressed squeak from you as your nipples hardened under his touch.

Your eyes were screwed shut once again and you attempted to wriggle out of his hold. You pressed your body as close to the wall as you could, but that only made him close in on you more, his crotch now firmly resting on your ass. He moved his hand to grope your other breast and bucked his hips forward with a deep grunt, the hard bulge of his cock rubbing against your ass. You bit back a whimper as your pussy clenched around nothing, arousal starting to pool in your panties.

His hand traveled down, grabbing what was left of your shirt and tearing it, leaving it hanging open on your shoulders. Your body welcomed the sudden partial nudity. The air was hot and thick and it felt like a cool relief to be free of even the light cotton. He pressed his hand against your stomach, pulling you against him even more, and for a moment he froze.

All the roughness in his touch disappeared as his fingers gently traced the nasty scar on your stomach. You whined, not from desperate arousal but shame. After what happened to you, you should be trying harder to fight this. You shouldn't want this, no matter how deep down it was, or how hard you tried to deny it. You dropped your head against the wall, resting your forehead against one hand as you waited for him to finish his assault.

König growled at your reaction to the scar on your stomach. You had looked up at him with growing lust, as tentative as that was, when he traced the scar on your neck with his knife. But the scar on your stomach, evidence of how close your brush with death had been, had paralyzed you. You were too quiet for him to enjoy this. He wanted to hear you cry and whimper, wanted to feel you rocking your body against his as you had been only a moment ago. Most of all, he didn't didn't want you to fear him.

He steadied you with his left hand, his hand heavy on your bare shoulder, and used his right to rip the rest of the tattered shirt off of you. You gasped and cried, and not in the way he wanted to hear, as you stood facing the wall with both arms crossed over your chest and your eyes squeezed shut. Then he removed the simple field jacket he was wearing and draped it over your shoulders.

You froze again as you were suddenly enveloped in warmth and spun around to face your savior/attacker. He roughly pulled the jacket closed, deft fingers fastening the button that fell just over your belly button. You were still somewhat exposed to him, but the scar on your stomach was now once again hidden underneath a layer of clothing.

Your mind barely registered the glint of his knife before it was pressed to your neck once more. He dug the point of the blade into the scar, not enough to puncture, but enough to draw your attention back up to his face.

His eyes were narrowed, furrowed brows peeking beneath the crudely cut eye holes of his mask. If you could see the rest of his face, he would probably be scowling at you.

As much as you wanted to grip the jacket closed, you kept your arms stiff at your sides. One wrong move could open up the scar on your neck again. 

He leaned down, his face inching closer to yours, his blade biting just a little bit more. "Say it." His voice is half a whisper, half a frustrated growl. 

Your lips part, tongue darting out to lick them, but you remained quiet, afraid to give him the wrong answer to his riddle. 

He growled again and pushed you harder against the wall. "Say it!" He practically screamed, and his knife finally pierced your skin, drawing just the slightest bit of blood. 

You flinched, as fear and pain laced adrenaline rushed through your veins, to your core, your clit throbbing as the knife stung your skin. Unconsciously, you steadied yourself by bracing your hands on his sturdy chest. His eyes flickered down at the movement, at the way you were clutching to him and squeezing your thighs together and he grinned under his mask. Oh you were scared of him alright, and you wanted it.  “Filthy fucking whore.” 

Your gasp, perhaps a protest of his words, if you even understood them, is strangled as you find yourself facing the wall again, his thick jacket protecting your hands and arms from the rough brick. 

His right hand holds his knife against the left side of your neck, still pressed against the old scar as his left is shoved down your pants. You whine and gasp and squirm as he circles your clit with two fingers. He groans behind you and his hips jerk forward, the motion causing the blade to cut your skin some more, a thin trail of blood starting to stain your skin. 

You cry, biting your lip and dropping your head against the wall, at the mixed sensations, the stinging pain blending with the pure pleasure of his fingers slipping up and down, around, your clit.

He groaned as his fingers slipped further down and spread your slick around your pussy. You squeezed your thighs around his hand and he pants in your ear before shoving a knee between your thighs, preventing you from closing them. 

His knee between your legs pushes you up against the wall and your toes barely find purchase on the ground. “You want this, ja?” He says as he starts to rock your hips against his thigh as his hand continues to play with your pussy. 

His fingers, hot and thick, slip into you as his palm rubs your clit. “Ja.” He grunts as he sinks a second finger into you, slowly pumping them.  His fingers pick up their pace and you moan when he inserts another digit. He curls his fingers just right as he pumps them, drawing out whines that you try to quiet. You hide your face in your hands, finding odd comfort in the warm scent that lingers on his coat, and choke back a moan as your hips are rocked against his thigh faster.

He pulls his fingers out, soaked in your juices, and goes back to focusing on your clit. “Of course you want this,” he half chuckles and half pants as finally removes his hand from your pussy, strings of cum sticking to your exposed skin as he nudges your chin with the knife so your head leans back against his chest. 

He held his hand up, spreading his fingers to show you your own arousal. "You wouldn't be this fucking wet if you didn't want this." 

You tried to turn your head away, so you didn't have to look at those lust clouded eyes in soft darkness, but he tuts and shoves two cum covered fingers into your mouth. He hummed as he watched you gag on his fingers, at least he relented enough that you were no longer deepthroating his fingers. “Wouldn’t be fucking my thigh like a desperate whore if you didn’t want this.” 

You froze, as if just realizing that with one of his hands still holding a knife to your throat and the other stuffing your mouth with his fingers, the eager grinding of your hips on his thigh was entirely you. He laughed and rocked his knee up into your aching pussy, “don’t stop now.”

The drag of his knee puts perfect pressure on your clit and you whine around his fingers as your pussy clenches around nothing. “Keep. Moving.” He growled in your ear as he glides the knife down the old scar down your neck to just above your collarbone, a thin line of blood beading against your skin. It stings and your cries are smothered by his fingers and he rocks his knee up again and you slide against his thigh just right that the pain becomes pleasure. 

He moans with you as you start to grind down in his leg again, back and forth and you even do your best to bounce while your feet barely touch the ground. His hips start to move with you, his hard cock on your ass adding fuel to the fire that burns within you. 

He’s grunting now, everytime you bounce against his dick, and he drops his hand from your mouth and starts to grope your tits again, making your shudder as he squeezes, his grip is bruising but your clit still throbs, your pussy still flutters with every touch of his rough hands.

The knife finally drops from your neck and he holds it against your waist then leans down, the mask he is wearing falling over your shoulder and you feel his breath on your bare skin.

“You belong to me now, Engel.” 

You gasp and shiver as he mumbles darkly into your neck, head lolling back so you can look at him, but all you see is the black of his mask. His grip on you tightens, the handle of the knife pushing into your hip painfully, his hand fondling your breasts roughly, his thigh pushing up against your pussy pleasurably. 

His tongue, hot and big, laps at your shoulder in a smothered kiss before he bites down, his sharp teeth catching the edge of the cut on your neck and that’s enough to push you into orgasm. You pussy wildly, almost painfully, clenching as you cum against his leg. 

He hums, strangely gentle, and slowly rocks you back and forth on his leg, letting your orgasm fade until your wanton moans are no more than the occasional whimper. 

You stumble forward into the wall when he drops his knee. Your clit is still throbbing as you pull the jacket closer to you and hide your face in your hands. You’re mostly just trying to catch your breath and calm down, but somewhere in the back of your mind you still feel shame at the way your cum gushes down your thighs, soaking into your pants. 

You barely register the shuffling behind you until you feel his hands on you again. You flinch, expecting him to be rough, but his touch is gentle as he rubs your arms. “You did good.” He mumbles his compliment into your hair. “Let’s go.” 

You can’t exactly say no to him, as he easily swoops you up off of your feet and carries you through the rickety gate to the bar parking lot. You absently note how easy it was for him to push the gate open, but do not let your thoughts linger on it once he unlocks a truck and sets you down in the passenger seat. 

He’s kind enough to adjust the jacket to cover your chest entirely before he buckles you up. His hips brush against your leg and you break out of the dazed reverie when you feel how hard his cock still is. 

 “Where are you taking me?” 

The man, your…savior (you feel hesitant to label him as your attacker, even after what just happened), slips off the hood before he looks up at you. His hair is disheveled and matted down with sweat and even in the faint street lighting you can see a few scars scattered around his clean shaven face. His eyes, icy cold blue, the only part of him you could see before, shine with something…soft? Unexpected, certainly. 

“Home.” He answers and drops the hood in your lap before shutting the door and walking around to the driver side. 

You hold the mask up in your hands as he starts the engine. The bleached tear stains and empty eye holes stare up at you suggesting danger and pain and death, and safety.

-

When he said home, he apparently meant his home. You felt silly for thinking he knew where you lived. The place he pulls up to is nice. Much nicer than you expected for a man so dangerous, more importantly you supposed, it’s spacious. There was some good distance between his house and the last house you saw and that has your pulse speeding up as he opens the door for you.

He doesn’t even wait for you to move, for you to second guess everything, before unbuckles you and carries you inside. You want to insist that you can walk on your own, but you are sticky with cum and dried blood and honestly, he’s so warm.

When he mumbles something about cleaning up you just nod and let him place you in a shower. You only react when he strips down and steps into the shower with you. 

It could have been a sensual shower, it was certainly big enough and as you catch a glimpse of how big his dick is when it is soft, your clit twitches at the memory of it hard and rutting against your ass. But he is quick to wash himself, and though he spends more time washing your body (or maybe he was just taking his time to feel you up), it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. 

You want to tell him there isn’t really a point in applying that ointment he is gently spreading along the scar on your neck. It’s already healed to an ugly scar.  But he is so gentle as he bandages the fresh cut and rubs you dry with a soft towel as you sit on his very large bed. 

“What’s your name?” 

Would it have been better or worse to ask for his name before he fingered you in some dirty back alley?

“König.” He doesn’t give more than that.

“König.” You repeat and he looks up at you from where he is kneeling on the floor in front of you. “Thank you. For killing that man.” 

He hummed as he continued to pat your thighs dry with the oversized towel that was wrapped around you. “You didn’t tell the police about me.” 

It’s not a question. Somehow he knows that you didn’t tell the police, so you just shrug. “I told them I don’t remember what happened after I got stabbed.” 

His hands stop moving and rest on the outsides of your thighs, playing with the hem of the towel. “But you do remember?” 

You nod. “Everything.” 

There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence between you, his fingers start tapping against your thighs and he shifts his weight. The towel that he has wrapped around his waist threatens to fall loose and he uses the excuse to secure it as an opportunity to break his gaze with you.

“What you said back there, that I belong to you now. What does that mean?” 

This time he meets your eyes, “what it sounds like.” 

“...Does that mean you’ll protect me?” 

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.” And he drops a small kiss to your knee, letting his lips linger on your skin.

You reach out and gently cup his cheek to push him away from your legs. “Can you be gentle?” König moves his face just enough to kiss the inside of your wrist. “Yes.” 

Whether he takes your question as a suggestion, or he simply decided that it was time to move onto other activities, he leans down again and places another kiss to your knee, gently spreading your legs and moving his mouth to your inner thigh. As he moves his mouth to splay a kiss on your other thigh, one of his large hands comes up to remove the towel on you body, brushing against your covered breast for just a moment before he tugs on the towel. 

You don’t let the towel drop completely, holding it tight to your chest, and he pauses his sweet kisses.

“Look at me,” he demands, stretching up and leaning against the bed, one knee between yours as he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him. His grip is firm but not painful, not even close to how tightly he had grabbed you earlier in the night. 

Your eyes jump from one scar to another before settling on his steely eyes. “Good. Now,” he leans in closer, lips hovering over yours, “trust me.” 

His kiss starts off gentle before his tongue finds that spot on your bottom lip where it was once split, he nibbles and sighs as if he can still taste the blood that was once there. Your lips part when you feel his teeth and his tongue glides against yours. It’s slow and gentle and has you melting into his touch, dropping the towel that hides your scars from him. He wastes no time in tossing it off the bed, his lips never leaving yours even as he slides his hands over your waist to pull you closer to the edge of the bed.

You let out a little squeak at the sudden movement and he grins as he pulls away from the kiss, breathing against your lips. “Remember. Trust me.” 

You can only nod as he moves his mouth down your neck, placing soft quick kisses over the fresh bandages before he moves to the other side of your neck. His kisses on the juncture of your neck become sloppy, his tongue lapping at your skin like it is covered in something sweet. He bites down hard, teeth sinking into your soft flesh, turning your quiet little pants into a gasping moan. 

“You belong to me now.” He repeats his claim between gentle soothing kisses on the fresh bite mark he just made. 

You nod, accepting your fate, as you grip onto his shoulders. He hums and trails his mouth down your body, gently kissing the bruises that started to bloom on your breasts from how hard he groped you before. Your soft whimper, born of pleasure and pain, makes his cock twitch underneath his towel and he shucks that off too. 

He lays you down on your back and swirls his tongue around a nipple, enjoying the way you arch into his mouth. “Look at me.” He reminds you when he sees that you have closed your eyes.

When you look at him again he grins and playfully bites your nipple, laughing at the little squeak you let out before. Your giggles turn into a soft sigh as he moves to your other breast. His touch has you sinking into a cloud of lust. You want to throw your head back, close your eyes, and surrender to him, but you remember his order and keep your eyes on him.

You go tense when he trails his kisses down to your stomach. His eyes shoot up at you, making sure you are still watching him, as he traces the horrid scar with his lips and tongue. Eventually, with the help of his big warm hands running soothing touches up and down your body, you stop squirming uncomfortably. You’re still squirming, but for entirely different reasons. König notices and with a grin he pushes himself up, pulling you up with him and placing one of your hands on his stomach.

Admittedly, your touch and mind is drawn to the hard muscle, padded with a healthy layer of fat, flexes under your hand. You want to touch the rest of him, explore the rest of him. It is only after a second that you realize what you are touching. A scar. Raised skin in a jagged pattern, like someone attempted to twist the knife that stabbed him. You gently trace the scar as if you are afraid to agitate it. 

He senses your hesitation and laughs as he presses your palm against it even harder. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, Engel.” Then he reaches out to touch the scar on your stomach, smaller and cleaner, but fresher and still tender if pressed too hard. 

You look down at his hand on your scar and yours on his. They’re almost in the same place. He leans forward and presses a small kiss to your lips and rests his forehead against yours. “I should be dead. You should be dead.” This was simply proof that were meant for him, he was certain of that. 

Who needs matching tattoos when you have matching scars?

“König,” you breathe out, though you are not sure what you want to say to him. Instead, when his eyes meet yours, you kiss him. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and pull yourself as close to him as possible. 

He moans into the kiss and, tender moment over, pushes you fully against the bed again. He slides down your body again, stopping only momentarily to place a soft kiss on your stomach before he dives between your thighs. 

You don’t even have time to act shy before he’s spreading your legs and swiping his tongue through the folds of your pussy. He’s quick to circle his tongue around your clit, drawing out a soft moan between panting breaths, as your hips move up to meet his mouth. He groans, the subtle vibrations adding extra stimulation, and practically nuzzles your pussy, nose bumping against your clit as he sinks his tongue into your quivering hole. No matter what you do, hands pulling at his hair tightly or thighs clenching around his head, it only earns more moans from him. He laps at your pussy, your juices mixing with his spit and drags his tongue back up to your throbbing clit. 

He locks one hand onto your hip but the other travels up your body to your breasts. True to his word, he is gentle with them this time. No bruising grip sending you teetering on the edge of pleasure and pain. Instead he rolls your nipple, pinching just soft enough that it hardens under his touch. He moves his hand and repeats the action with your other breast, reveling in every little whine and gasp he pulls out of you. All the while he continues to eat your pussy like it’s his last meal.

He has you so needy and aching that it’s euphoric when he slips two fingers into you at once. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, reluctant to let him go but the slide of him pumping into you again makes you gush. One of your hands claws at his hair, gripping his locks to keep you grounded, but the other holds onto his hand that had been playing with your tits. Unable to properly play with your tits now, he laces his fingers with yours, holding your hand as he pulls and orgasm out of you,

Unlike the first time he made you cum, you don’t try to hold back your moans, you don’t hide your face from him, though at some point as he ate you out, you had thrown your head back and closed your eyes from how good it felt. He’d just have to forgive you for that.

König rests his check against one of your thighs as he watches you come down from your orgasm. 

It’s not until he gently squeezes his hand that is still holding yours that you look down at him. Somehow the sight of him between your thighs, face glistening with your cum, makes you blush even harder than you already were. 

“Ready for more, Engel?” 

You blink at him. “More?”

He chuckles and pushes himself up, first dropping a heated kiss onto your lips, his tongue sliding into your mouth and letting you taste yourself. As much as he could spend all night kissing you, right now he had another pressing need to take care of. He sat up on his knees, pushing your thighs further apart to accommodate him, and stroked his painfully hard cock.

Oh!

Your eyes are drawn to him and widen. You knew he was big. You’d seen him soft and felt it against your ass, but seeing it standing at full erection was another thing entirely. It’s easily the biggest cock you’ve ever seen, not even your favorite porn stars can hope to compete. 

You sit up and reach out to touch him, replacing his hand with your own and you swallow thickly. You wrap your fingers around the shaft, your pussy clenching when you see that your fingers don’t even meet. Still, you give gentle strokes, eyes glazing over at how much of his veiny cock you can still see around your fist. He’s already leaking copious amounts of precum, that you collect on your fingers to slick up your next stroke. You lean down and circle your tongue around the head, a shiver running down your spine when he moans wantonly as you wrap your lips around the head. 

You moan as you stretch your mouth around his cock and imagine what it would feel like stretching your pussy out. You let out a little gasp for air when you come back up, going from sucking to licking his cock, just so you can reach the base of it. König moans again and buries a hand in your hair. For a moment you think he’s going to force your mouth onto him again, but instead he pulls you up for another passionate kiss. 

“Another time. I need to fuck you.” He pants against your mouth when he pulls away.

You whimper and nod and throw yourself back onto the pillows, eager to accept the challenge of his massive cock. You drop one hand to your clit, rocking your fingers against the sensitive button. 

König produces a bottle of lube from the nightside and slicks himself up. In the future, he can take the time to make you cum enough times to take his dick naturally. But he is eager to feel you now. Besides, you look just as eager as he feels, as you watch him stroke himself. 

He nudges your hand away from your clit and replaces it with his own, rubbing lube along your pussy and drawing excited pants from you. He dips a finger in you, feeling your pussy clench around his finger and grins. “Engel?” 

You nod, “please, König!”

He slid the head of his cock through your folds, your pussy throbbing as the slick head rubbed against your clit. You whined at not being filled but the way his heavy cock bounced on your clit already had you desperately begging. 

He managed a strained chuckle, holding himself back from immediately fucking you was one of the hardest things he’s ever done, and pushed the tip of his dick against your entrance. He used his right hand to hold your hips, and used his left hand to rub languid circles around your clit. 

You choked back a garbled moan as you felt him begin to stretch you out.  Your chest heaved as you rocked your hips up, encouraging him to keep going. You were whimpering, writhing against the bed grasping at his shoulders as he sunk deeper into you. He was so fucking big and barely got the tip of his dick inside of you before you pussy began to frantically pulsate around him. He groaned and forced himself to stay still, for both of your sakes. You looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears and drool pooling at the corners of your mouth, and he almost lost it. He promised he’d be gentle though, at least this time.

He grabbed the bottle of lube again and squeezed some more out on his dick before thrusting forward again. Your pussy clenched around him, squeezing him desperately, as he slowly filled you. Though the size of his cock stretched you beyond anything you’d ever felt before, though it teetered to just the wrong side of pain, you couldn’t get enough of it. Especially with the way his thumb kept playing with your clit. You cried his name and tried to grind your hips up. 

He slowly dragged his cock out, moaning at the sight of your pussy clinging to him, and started another agonizingly slow push. 

“König,” you started with a breathy whine, “faster. Please.” 

He dropped down to one elbow and nuzzled his nose against the side of your face, missing your lips as he tried to kiss you and simply licking at your jaw. He muttered your name hotly in your ear, your pussy quivering at the sound of his strained voice. 

He snapped his hips forward, burying his cock deep in you and started frantic, rapid, strokes. You cried out, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips, he was so big and heavy and hard that your world was reduced to the pleasure he brought with every stroke of his amazing cock. 

He promised to be gentle, he knew he shouldn’t do it, but he couldn’t help but clamp his teeth down on your uninjured shoulder, muffling his own obscene moans as your pussy spasmed around him. His eyes rolled back in his head and his thrust became erratic, chasing an orgasm, as blood filled his mouth. Your blood was still so sweet, divine, enough to send him over the edge. His hips stilled as he cock twitched inside of you, spilling inside of you. 

You moaned, or screamed, when he bit you, leaving a second mark on you, and the string of his bite brought with it white hot pleasure. Hot cum filled you, your pussy convulsing rapidly, milking him and refusing to let go. 

He pulled out with a long groan, the two of you overstimulated and your pussy was still clenching around him, and collapsed to the side of you. He draped an arm around you and held you close to him, muttering something about angels in German that you didn’t have the faculties to translate at that moment. 

He was the first to recover, propping himself up on his elbows and leaning over to lick and kiss the fresh bite mark on your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

You gave a breathless laugh and lazily pulled his face up to kiss you. “Don’t worry, I liked it.” As if the mind blowing orgasm that followed the bite wasn’t a big enough hint.

“Now, can you let go of me?” 

“No.” 

Your laugh was sharper this time, and it brought a grin to his face. “Let go, I have to pee!” 

He sighed dramatically and grabbed your hand, bringing to his lips to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “Come back to me?”

Even as you pulled your hand out of his, you could feel the smile that graced his lips upon hearing you giggle. But at least he finally let you go. 

Your post orgasmic high wore off while you were cleaning up and your mind, having been clouded by lust since he grabbed you at the bar, was able to think straight.

You walked back to the room, feeling shy at your lack of clothing, and saw that he had changed the top blanket on the bed. The other soaked in cum, apparently. 

He looked up and smiled, bright and energetic despite how tired he was. “Engel, you came back!” He joked as he rushed over and pulled you into a hug. 

You kept still, but with his arms wrapped around you, you could do little else. He picked you up, much as he had done back at the bar, and set you down in the bed before he curled up next to you and pulled the covers over both of you.

“König?” 

He hummed as he nuzzled his face in your neck, inhaling your intoxicating combined scents.

“...I never told you my name.” 

[Death’s Promise]

“...I never told you my name.” 

König doesn’t answer you, only tightens his hold around you. It’s only when you try to shift, to put just enough distance between you that you can turn around and face him, that he speaks. His voice deceptively calm, if the way his arms tighten around you again is anything to go by. “I already told you, you belong to me now.”

You frown. That was no answer to how he knew your name. Or, now that you thought about it, how he knew that you didn’t tell the police about him. 

“It. It wasn’t a coincidence that you were at that bar tonight, was it?” You try not to stutter.

He doesn’t answer, instead starts to press his lips into the hickey on your shoulder. A reminder of his claim. 

“How long have you been following me?” 

His lips continue to move from your shoulder to your neck, stopping to nibble at your pulse point. You can feel the grin on his lips when your pulse speeds up.

Whatever he is making you feel, you repeat the question. “How long have you been following me?” 

“Go to sleep, Engel.” 

“At least tell me why.” 

“To make sure no one else touches you.” 

Well, it’s not like you wanted anyone to touch you anyway. And his touch isn’t unpleasant. Quite the opposite, really.

You should stop this. Get away from him. You knew he was dangerous, you saw it first hand, and who knows how long he’d been following you. Maybe since that very night you were attacked.

And yet, “...No one?” “No one.” 

That actually sounded kind of nice…

-

Work sucked. Mostly because of one person and the fact that you felt like you could do nothing about it. All you could do was race out at the end of the day and get home as quickly as possible. 

Home…It took all of a week for König to move you from your flat (he said it wasn’t safe at your old place and you weren’t going to question what he meant by that) into his house. Was it a rushed relationship? Sure. Was it a questionable, leaning towards dangerous, decision on your part? Absolutely. Did you regret it? Not at all. 

You let your frustrations out on a bunch of vegetables, your knife chopping through them and onto the cutting board with increasing force. You didn’t even realize how hard you were chopping until a large hand stopped your own before it hit the board again. You froze, König’s other arm wrapping around your waist as he leaned down to rest his chin on your head. 

“Careful, Engel. You don’t want to hurt yourself.” 

“Oh! König! I didn’t even hear you come in!” You crane your neck back so he could place a soft kiss to your lips. He does so with a pleased hum. 

His face is bare, a sight you quickly came to love. He leaves the simple mask he usually wears hanging in the entranceway. (His sniper hood he only dons when he’s deployed or when he’s “hunting”). 

“How could you with all that noise you were making? What did that poor carrot do to you?” 

You let out a sheepish chuckle, “sorry. Just thinking about work stuff.” 

You picked up one of the carrot rounds and held it up by your shoulder, where he leaned down and nibbled it out of your hand. 

“What about work?” 

You resumed your chopping, much less forceful. “Ugh. Nothing really. Just this guy keeps bothering me.” 

He tensed behind you, his grip on your waist getting tighter, not uncomfortably so, just more protective, as he growled out his question. “Has he touched you?” 

“No! Well, not like that…” The shoulder squeezes and lingering pats on the back were unwelcome, but, as your supervisor said, meant nothing more than that the guy was being friendly. “It’s really annoying to have to pick up his slack, especially after all of his little inappropriate comments.” 

König nodded as he listened to your rant, but all he heard was some man had dared to put his hands on you, even if you didn’t think it was sexual, and said something inappropriate to you. “Want me to kill him?” 

“Yes!” You giggle at the joke.

“Ok.” 

You freeze and turn around to face him. “Wait. I’m kidding.”

He smiles and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Ok.” 

“No,” you press your lips in a straight line. “I’m serious. You can’t kill him.” 

The way he tilts his head is far too cute for someone as large as he is casually discussing murder. “Why not?”

It had been a while since he killed anyone. Why shouldn’t he kill someone you hated? Two birds, one stone.

“Because he works with me!”

“Not for long.” 

You laugh and gently push him out of the kitchen and into the living room. Once in the living room, you make him sit down on the couch, having to resort to pulling him down for a kiss to get him to settle. His hands naturally fall to your hips as you straddle him, clutching at the fabric of the simple cotton dress you had changed into after work. 

“Now, you listen to me,” you start with a firm poke to his chest, only to stop when you realize you were still holding the kitchen knife in your hand. Oops. Knowing him, though, he probably liked you threatening him with it. You twisted around in his lap just enough to drop the knife onto the coffee table in front of the couch and return your attention to him. “As much as I want you to kill the bastard, you can’t.” 

He furrows his brows, and is practically pouting as he asks his question again. “Why?”

“Because, everyone knows I have a problem with him.”

“And he still works there?” 

You had to bite back a laugh. He had a point. You were not the first to draw unwanted attention from the guy. Why complaints from more than one woman didn’t lead to any disciplinary action was questionable. Still, you ignore his question and continue.

“When the cops find him dead, or missing, I’ll be a suspect.” 

König chuckles as he moves his hands gently up and down your sides, moving your dress higher up your thighs with each pass of his hands. “You? Little one?” 

This time you do laugh a little. “Let me finish!”

Schooling his face, he nods. “Ok, tell me how you will be suspected of murder.”

“Not me!” You answer with a faux exasperated sigh. “They’ll look at me and realize I have a hard time even hurting a fly. But one look at you,” you start to drag your hands on either of his forearms, fingers dancing along his veiny muscles. “My giant, strong, military trained boyfriend and they’ll get suspicious.”

His smile has dropped, either from your prediction, or the way your hands continue to tantalize him and move up his arms to rest on his shoulders.

“Even if they don’t find proof, they’ll at least surveille you for a bit. Do you really want the police looking into you?” 

For a moment he is quiet, no joking, even his grip on your hips is still. He can’t pretend that what you said is entirely unsound. No matter how careful he was to leave no trace behind, the personal connection to you would always be suspect. 

“So,” you lean in close to him, your lips hovering close to his. “You’re not going to kill him, right?” 

He averts his eyes and doesn’t answer. He doesn’t want to lie to you, and your reason, while sound, isn’t enough to deter him. 

“König,” your voice is stern and you grab his chin and force him to look at you. 

“This man has touched you.” 

You want to roll your eyes. You want to pretend like he’s playfully overreacting. Certainly a couple of lingering pats does not warrant murder, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about König, at least when it comes to you, is that he’s intense. He is one hundred percent planning on killing your coworker just because he touched your shoulder. 

Your hands slide down his shoulders to rest on his chest, just above his heart where you clench at his shirt. “Promise me you won’t kill him.” When he still doesn’t answer you frown and press your forehead onto his. “I need you, König. I need you to stay with me.” Your voice wavers a little as you lock your eyes with his. “I need you to protect me.” 

“Fine, my love.” He finally sighs and captures your lips in a gentle kiss; he can’t stand to see you looking so sad because of something he might do. “I will not kill him.” 

“Good.” You nod and smile at him, and your smile is so brilliant that it is enough to sate his bloodlust. 

You lean forward again to kiss him, with all intentions to pull away and go back to making dinner. But his grip on your hips tightens and he holds you close and deepens the kiss. 

He smiles against your lips as you giggle when he doesn’t let you pull away. 

“I am curious.” You start, voice dropping like it wasn’t just the two of you in the house.

He hums against your lips then starts to drag his kisses down your jaw to your neck, grinning as your next words come out a little breathless. 

“If you were going to kill him, how would you do it?”

He actually stops and looks up at you, wondering if this was some kind of test.

You smile and give him a small peck on the lips. “Just hypothetically speaking, of course.” 

König licks his lips nervously, only relaxing when you take his right hand in both of yours and start to idly play with his fingers. 

“He touched you,” he starts and pauses again. You nod and give a little hum to encourage him to keep going. 

“I’d start with his hands.” 

You shift your eyes up to meet his before looking back down at his hand. You nod and turn his hand over, palm down in one of your hands as your free hand gently traces the veins on his hand. His fingers twitch underneath your touch and you sweetly smile at him, “keep going.” 

“I’d crush one of his hands beneath my boot.” 

You place his hand on the top of your thigh as you nod once again. You let out a quiet excited breath as he squeezes your thigh, his large hands hot against your skin. 

“Just one hand?” You ask coquettishly as you drag his hand down to the inside of your thigh.

He hums again, eyes locked between your thighs, at his hand slipping underneath your skirt. 

“I’d take my time with his other hand.” His knuckles brush your clothed mound, putting the lightest pressure on your clit. “Break his fingers one at a time.” 

You bite your lip and lock your eyes with his as you roll your hips forward, turning his touch on your clit from feather light to firm. 

His eyes darken, blood thrumming with excitement, and he can hardly tell what has him excited more, watching you squirm against his hand or sharing the kind of thoughts he long ago learned to keep to himself. The fact that he was sharing these thoughts with you, feeling your arousal dampen your panties, makes his heart beat wildly. 

He shifts his hand, turning it so that his thumb can start to rub small circles around your clit while his fingers dip into the edge of your panties. The back of his fingers slide against pussy, collecting your slick and dragging it up to your clit. You jolt and let out a small gasp at his touch, grasping at his shoulders to keep you upright so you can keep your eyes on him. 

He continued to tease your pussy, reveling in every little reaction from you, until you were a wet whimpering mess on his lap. “Then I’d smash his face in, for thinking he was worthy of even looking at you,” you moaned as he slipped a finger into you, “of breathing the same air as you.” He slowly started to slide his finger out, a smirk on his face as you rocked your hips forward.

“Maybe knock his teeth out for daring to talk to you.” He slid in a second finger, breathing a little faster as you moaned and fell forward further into him. You kissed him, tongue lapping at his lips before finding his own, as he pumped his fingers faster.

His free hand moved roughly from your hip to your breast, squeezing hard enough to draw desperate whimpers from you. He groaned and shifted to sit more comfortably, mouth dropping from your lips to your jaw, and pulled the top of your dress down. His lips capture your breast, tongue circling around the nipple, while his hand continues to knead and squeeze your other breast.  

Your head falls back and you gasp when he inserts a third finger, using his palm to rub your clit. He takes the opportunity to leave a surprisingly gentle kiss on the edge of the scar that peaks above your neckline. You shiver, despite how hot your body feels, as he pulls you closer to the edge. Your hips rock against his hand, your breath coming out in a combination of desperate pants and whines, every stroke of his fingers winding you up.

“But I will kill him with my hands around his neck, so I can watch him regret ever looking at you, as the life fades from his eyes.” 

Your whole body shakes as you cry out and fall forward, holding onto him with all your strength, as your pussy convulses wildly around his fingers, coating his hand in cum. 

König stilled as he watched you come down from your orgasm, panting and making cute little whimpers as he withdrew his hand. You were...glowing. It could have been the single ray of light coming in from a crack in the curtains illuminating your half naked body. Or the light sheen of sweat coating your skin that he was tempted to lick off you. But, he knew it was something else.

You had just come on his fingers as he described how he wanted to kill someone. You were truly an angel. A fucked up little angel sent to him by the god of death. If the military wasn't going to reward his skills, at least the universe had.

You shivered again and giggled into his shoulder before looking up at him with a smile. You hummed, squeezing your thighs together momentarily before sitting up and fixing your dress. You grabbed the discarded kitchen knife from the coffee table and planted a sweet and chaste kiss on his lips, as if he hadn't just finger fucked you to orgasm. "I need to finish making dinner."

He knew the moment he laid eyes on you, covered in blood and all, that he wanted you. He had no idea that he didn’t just want you, he needed you. 

He needed you. And he was just sitting there with a painfully hard boner while you walked back to the kitchen, legs shaky and making you lean on the walls and counter. He let you have a moment to calm down before bending you over the counter, ripping your soaked panties off of you and wildly fucking you. 

-

Not deployed and not “busy”, König's world revolved around you (and if his last deployment was anything to go by, you were his center regardless). He insisted on driving you to and from work. It was all great until you mentioned you would be working late one night. 

He went stiff and barely managed to get through his question without shaking in anger. “Will Christopher be working late with you?” 

You sighed, already dreading the late night dealing with your annoying coworker. “Yea, he's on my team.” Then you grinned, “maybe he'll see you when you drop me off and think twice before approaching me!”

König chuckled and leaned down to kiss you before slipping his face mask on. Honestly, he hoped that wasn't the case. He wanted an excuse to kill the man. 

That morning, of course, Christopher was late and didn't witness your incredibly large boyfriend help you down from his truck (not that you needed it, but he was ever the gentleman) as he dropped you off. 

You did your best to avoid Chris, but as the night dragged on, he became more persistent. 

“Someone’s a pretty little liar.” 

You sighed. You were already packing up, getting ready to leave, and he had to come and bother you one more time. “What?”

“I talked to Deb, and she said you don’t have a boyfriend.” 

Deb, the office gossip. 

“She doesn’t know everything about me.” 

Your phone buzzed just as you picked it up, a part of you was worried it was your supervisor, but one glance at the screen and you smiled. “And that’s him. He’s here to pick me up.” 

“I was just heading out, I’ll walk with you.” He clapped a hand on your shoulder and squeezed as he smirked at you. 

You stepped out of his hold and hurried to the door, confused when you didn’t see König’s truck waiting out front. Oh no. 

Your phone buzzed again, König telling you that he was in the far parking lot. 

“Well, where is he?” 

“Parked back there.” You gestured with your hand, from that distance even the truck looked small.

“What he can’t come get you? Maybe I should walk with you, talk to the guy.” 

You rolled your eyes and sidestepped his hand again. Whatever happened next was Chris’ own damn fault for being so fucking predictable.

Disabling the security cameras in the parking lot was easy. König sat in his truck, the temporarily distressed engine running idle, knee bouncing and fingers tapping the steering wheel excitedly. 

You hadn’t told him much about this Christopher, but from what you did, it was pretty much a given that he’d follow you through the parking lot. And lo and behold, König saw you and a man walking towards the truck. Every so often you’d take a side step and whenever König saw the man make the same step, closing the distance between the two of you again, his pulse just beat faster. 

Finally when you’re close enough, he jumped out of the truck and rushed to the passenger side. The sight of him even had you tense for a moment. Sure he was big, and the black tee shirt he wore did nothing to hide how muscular he was. But it was the sniper hood covering his face that made you pause. 

“What the fuck?” The man next to you muttered under his breath as you walked up to König.

König was fast to reach out and pull you to his side. 

At least he leans down to let you peck his cheek, though you got his chin instead, as a greeting. 

“Get in the truck. And don’t look.” 

You frown and pinch the edge of his mask. You’d only ever seen him wear it once. “I told you-”

“I know.” 

To Christopher’s credit, he was smart enough to try to get away as quickly and quietly as possible. König wasn’t having it though, and all it took was one giant step from him and he clapped his hand on Chris’ shoulder.

“Not so fast, hm?”

A shiver ran up your spine as you stood next to the truck. That cadence in König’s voice…

Chris tried to wiggle out of König’s hold, but his struggle only made König grip down harder. 

“You touched her-”

“N-no! I didn’t! She lied!” 

König’s eyes narrowed and Chris tried to stutter out another denial but was thrown into the asphalt face first, with a pathetic cry.

As Chris was trying to push himself up, König grabbed him by the back of his shirt and turned him around, pinning him on the ground.

Chris, a man who was in considerably good shape, still thought he had a chance to get away. He struggled, attempting to punch König in the ribs to get him to let go, but König chuckled. He then punched Chris directly in the face, a delightful burst of happy adrenaline running through his veins as he felt and heard the other man’s nose break underneath his hand.

Chris screamed, blood filling his mouth,  and rolled away from König, well, as much as he was allowed to. König stood back up, though remained hovering over Chris, who was doubled over in pain. After a few minutes, in which he shakily turned around and looked up, he managed to gasp out another plea. “Ok! Ok! I’ll leave her alone!”

“Good!” König beamed, his head tilted just slightly as he looked down at the other man. “But that is not enough.”

“W-what!” 

König grabbed a fistful of Chris’ hair and easily hauled him up and dragged him to the front of the still running truck. 

“I promised her no one would ever touch her again. What kind of man would I be if I let you get away with touching her?” Through Chris’ screams, he shoved Chris’ face onto the hood of his truck, the engine still running hot and burning the man’s face. 

As satisfying as it was to watch Chris get his ass handed to him so easily, things had already escalated too far. “König! That’s enough!” You shouted over the engine, over Chris’ fading cries and over König’s jovial laughter.

König froze and looked up at you, standing some feet away from the two men, and let Chris slump to the ground. “I told you to get in the truck.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you walked over to him, being careful to step around your barely conscious coworker. You looked up at him, his eyes were still wild, and his chest was starting to heave with how excited he’d become. If he had excess energy, you knew just what he could do with it instead.

You slid a hand up his chest to grip his collar, the fabric of his mask pooling around your wrist. He let you pull him down to your level and with your free hand, you lifted the mask just enough to kiss him. 

He moaned into the kiss, turning it heated rather quickly, his big hands on your ass and hoisted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

It was only a pained weak cough from Christopher that stopped you. You pulled away from the kiss, his hood falling back over his face, and grinned at him. 

“I think you should get in the truck now.” You say with a seductive smile and a gleam in your eyes that he couldn’t quite place.

He nodded and instead of setting you on the ground, walked around to the passenger side of the truck, kicking Chris one last time for good measure, before gently setting you inside the truck and rushing over to the other side.

You’re careful not to hit the gear shift when he slides into the driver side and you slide up to him, lifting his mask to the bridge of his nose so you can kiss him again. His hands grab at you, pulling you as close as he could in the cramped space. One of your hands clutches at his shirt, landing on his firm chest and the other rests on his thigh. 

He breaks the kiss just for a moment, his breath starting to come out in a pant, and reaches up to grasp at the edge of his mask, but your hand quickly grabs his wrist and stops him, “leave it on.”

“O-oh?” He stutters as you palm his growing erection through his pants. 

“I like it,” you say as you lean forward and drop a kiss to his shoulder, then another below that, following the hem of the mask until you reach just below his collarbone. Your hand that sits on his chest has moved to his pectoral, where you give his nipple a little pinch, sending a shiver down his spine right to his dick. 

“Hah,” he breathes out half a laugh as you start to unbuckle his belt, “you like it?” 

“Mm-hmm.” Your hand drops from his chest so you can unbutton his pants.

He swallows hard when you take his heavy cock out and with a firm grip you wrap a soft hand around it, as much as you could, anyway. “It’s. It’s supposed to be scary.” 

“Oh, it is.” You look up at him, hand lazily stroking upwards, “that’s what I like about it.” 

He lets out a quiet groan when your thumb swipes across the underside of the head of his fat cock. Whatever other protest about his sniper hood he had is forgotten when you slide down the bench so you can put your mouth on him.  

He’s hard in your hands before you even lean down and his thick veiny cock throbs as you slowly part your lips. His left hand has an intense grip on the door, but his right hand flies into your hair, though he shakes a little as he tries to keep it gentle, so he can have a clear view of you. 

You start with small, feather light, licks to his swollen cockhead, one, two, and he’s already let out a soft whine and starts to nudge his hips forward, his cock following your tongue as it retreats back in your mouth. You smile and hum, giving in and swirling your tongue around the tip before pinching your lips just over the head of his cock, adding light suction as you do so.

“Please,” he whines, fingers starting to tighten around your hair. “Please, don’t tease me.” The way he has slipped back into his native language, his voice pitched higher as he thrusts his hips upwards when you sink your mouth further down his cock, makes your clit twitch and you have to squeeze your thighs together to help alleviate your neediness.

You moan around his cock, tongue continuing to circle the head of his dick, flickering at sensitive spots, as you take him into your mouth as far as you can. You don’t deep throat him, not yet, so your hand makes up for it by adding firm strokes in conjunction with the bob of your mouth. The cabin is filled not only with moans but the sound of wet suction, especially when you pop his cock fully out of your mouth and give greedy sloppy licks down his entire shaft. 

König loses a bit of control and when your mouth envelops him again, sinking down as far as previously, his hand pushes the back of your head down even more. You had been expecting it, the tightness in his thighs, the way he whined even more and babbled incoherently, and even though you braced yourself, you ended up choking and sputtering around his cock. It only adds more spit, more slip to the already sloppy blow job.

You sit up a bit and take a breath, hand still stroking up and down, before you dive back down. This time you look up at him as you sink your mouth on his cock, your eyes locking with his, even with his eyes so dilated they’re so blue in contrast to the black material of his mask that nearly blends into the darkness of the night. His eyes are wide, watering even, and when he sees you look up at him, mouth stretched around his big cock, his own eyes roll back as his hips start to buck harder, faster. He cries out his impending orgasm, first in German though, for your sake, he remembers to repeat it in English as well. 

Not that it matters, you offer him an encouraging, “mm-hmm” around his cock, letting him know that you wanted him to cum in your mouth and it drives him over the edge with a loud obscene moan, shooting rope and rope and rope of cum into your mouth.

You swallow what you can, the rest sliding down the side of your face as you sit up for air. His eyes are still closed as he pants for breath himself. Since he doesn’t seem to be paying any attention, you get a mischievous idea and lean in close to him, and use the edge of his mask to wipe your face clean.

He chuckles but doesn’t stop you, only taking your hand in his when he feels that you are done. 

Most of him is limp against his seat, except for the grip he has on your hand, his knuckles resting on your thigh. 

“Hey,” you reach over and gently tug at his hood, to which he leans down just enough for it to slip off. “You ok?” 

He gives you a lazy grin, face flush and hair starting to mat down. He doesn’t quite answer you though, instead pulls your hand up to his lips and places a gentle kiss across your knuckles.  

You smile and, blushing strongly at the innocent gesture despite the fact that you’d just swallowed a load of his cum, take your hand back so you could buckle up. “Let’s go home.” 

The ride home is somewhat odd. He hasn’t said a word since you had his cock in your mouth and that silence is a little worrying. It’s not until you’re back home that you finally break the silence.

“König? What’s wrong?” You stop him before he can retreat into the bedroom.

“Nothing, Engel.” 

“Then why are you so quiet?”

It’s almost comical to watch a man so big try to shrink away from your gaze. He’s squeezing one fist over and over, trying very hard not to twitch under your gaze.

You gasp, hands flying to cover your mouth, as you put two and two together. “Wait! Did you not like- Did I…Did I give you a bad blow job?”

König’s head snaps up. “What! No!”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” 

“My love-” “Do you hate all my blow jobs?!”

He shakes his head vehemently and shouts your name, but you still talk over him. 

“Is it because I choke? I can’t help it! Your cock is just so big!” 

“No! My Engel,” he finally stops you with his hands on your shoulders, “I love watching you choke on my cock!”

You take a breath, forcing yourself to calm down and pout up at him. “Then what is it?”

He sighed and rubbed your shoulders for a moment before taking your hands in his. “I was just thinking about the first time we met.”

There had been a look in your eyes that night that he wrote off as you being so close to dying. But he saw it again tonight…

“Oh.” Your pout morphs into something much more stoic. “When that man…” You trail off, you both know what happened that night.

“Yea.” 

“What about it?” 

He glances away from you and chews on his lip before changing the subject. “Tell me, my love. Did you enjoy watching me kill that man?” 

“Yea.” You tilt your head, “why wouldn’t I? He got what he deserved.” 

He nodded. “Did you enjoy watching me almost kill your coworker?” 

This time it’s you that blushes and looks away. “Yea. I. I suppose being annoying doesn’t quite deserve that much violence, but…” what can you say? It was hot watching him so easily break the other man (oh and defending your honor too!). 

“And,” he paused, licking his lips, “did it turn you on?” 

Your face burns even more, “well,” you chuckle sheepishly, “that is why I blew you.” 

He frowned and dropped your hands, though remained somewhat hunched so he could properly look you in the eyes. “I kill people.” 

You squint at him, “yea…?” This wasn’t news to you…Why was he saying this? 

“Not just the man who tried to rape you. Not just in my capacity as a soldier.” 

Maybe you could understand where he was coming from. He never explicitly told you of his activities. You simply knew based on your first meeting and the way he spoke so casually about killing. “...Yea, I know…”

“I need you to know that, Engel.” 

You nod, “ok. Got it.” 

“But I would never hurt you.”

“I know. I trust you.” Which was a peculiar thing to say considering how just very recently you didn’t even know his name. 

Upon hearing your answer, König glanced away from you, face dusted pink and chewing on his lip. He was right. You were an angel made just for him.

You frowned, “what’s wrong?”

He was quick to pounce on you, giant hands on either side of your face and threading into your hair as he pressed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. He swallowed your surprised little yelp, his tongue sliding against your lower lip and teeth nibbling at a particularly sensitive spot on your lip before slipping into your mouth. 

He pulled you close, one hand solidly wrapped around your waist and the other pressed into your back, as you melted into his embrace. He only let go slightly when he moved his kiss to your jaw, down your neck, nipping at the scar below your neck. 

You sighed, resting your hands on his shoulders as he continued to sink lower, pressing gentle kisses over your clothes and dropped to his knees. 

He finally pressed a lingering kiss to the scar on your stomach, hands on your hips, and looked up at you, your name falling lovingly past his lips.

“You are perfect. Marry me.” 

You really didn’t think he was a marriage kind of man. You assumed that when he told you that you belonged to him, that he would protect you from then on, that it equated to marriage in his mind. But with the way he was looking up at you now, looking both very serious and very vulnerable, to him, this was more than that.

“Oh, König,” you reply softly, your hand drifting from his shoulder to cup his face. He leans into your touch and never breaks eye contact with you.

You bend down and place a soft kiss on his lips. “Yes.” 

He laughs happily when he pulls you into another strong kiss. He’s still laughing when he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom. 

[Death’s Haven]

Your husband was a killer. Not some vigilante with a twisted sense of justice. No, he simply needed to kill. For most of his life, this need was satiated through his career in the military. However, now that he was in the private sector, he had more time between jobs. Which led to the current reason you were home alone late at night.

He'd been between deployments for four months now. Yelling at recruits and paperwork was nearly driving him insane. When he started disappearing at night, when he spent his free time in secret, you knew what he was up to. You didn't ask him about it. You just made sure he had dinner and a clean home to come back to.

You were already asleep in bed when he came home tonight. When you felt him crawl into bed, hands sliding across your waist so he could hold you to his chest. He was very tactile like that, once he had you, he always had to be touching you in some way.

You let out a quiet sigh and shifted to get comfortable, vaguely aware that he was only wearing his boxers.

"I'm sorry, Engel. I did not mean to wake you."

"What time is it?"

"Three."

You grunted. Much too late (or perhaps, too early). Though you supposed coming home at three am was better than him coming home at five only to wake up at six to go to work.

You yawned and shifted, turning around so you could kiss his cheek. "Welcome home." You sighed, eyes already closing again as you cuddled up to him and started to fall back asleep.

König hummed, his hand gently moving up and down your hip, slipping underneath the tee shirt that you stole from him to use as a nightgown.

His soft touch chased away your sleep as his fingers dragged up and down your lower back. You wiggled your hips, attempting to get away from his touch by pressing your body further into him. "That tickles."

"Sorry," he muttered, lips brushing against your temple. "I missed you."

If your eyes weren't closed you'd roll them. Your big, strong, serial killer of a husband was sweet, cute even, acting like you hadn't seen each other for weeks.

But then you felt his hard on pressing against your thigh. Oh. He missed you like that. Yea. That made sense. Even though he slipped in late at night or early in the morning to see you before you left for work, you hadn't had sex since he started his recon a few days ago.

You nuzzle against his chest and smile, "did you?" You slide a hand down his stomach and fiddle with the waistband of his boxers. "I'd never be able to tell." 

He groaned and pushed you onto your back, knocking your legs apart enough for him to settle between. His kiss is rushed, tongue pushing past your lips eagerly, while he starts to grind his hips into yours. You let out an airy gasp when his kisses trail down your jaw to the scar on your neck. A scar you were once ashamed of, once associated with a moment of indignity. König insisted that your scars weren't ugly or shameful, they were proof that instead of taking you for himself, the god of death had given you to him as a gift. 

“What?” You rolled your eyes when he first told you such. “Is he a king and I'm one of his kids he can just give away?” 

He threaded his fingers into your hair and pulled, forcing you to expose your neck to him. “I am your only King. And you are my Angel.” 

Your leg hikes further up his waist, one of his hands splaying across the back of your thigh as he ruts into you again. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling his face back towards you as you attempt to kiss him again, instead he opens his mouth to mumble words against your lips.

“There was a witness.”

And you froze. The only witness he’s ever left before was you. For a moment you’re worried. Was this another damsel in distress that he saved? Was there another broken girl in his truck right now, waiting patiently to become your sister-wife? 

You push a steady hand against his chest that he ignores and continues to suck hickey onto your neck. “What?” 

He hums against your skin, moving his kiss down, where he nips at one of your breasts through the fabric of your chosen nightgown. He mistakes the concern in your voice as concern for him. He returns to your mouth, an eager heavy kiss pressed to your lips until he pushes his tongue into your mouth that you respond to tentatively. 

“I killed him too.” 

His hips grinding into yours, with his hard cock teasing your pussy through layers of thin fabric, draws out a needy whine from you. "O-oh?"

He grunts, breathing quickening as he starts to push your shirt up. "That's why I'm so late, my love.” He was quite eager, it seemed, as one of his hands slipped underneath your back to lift you so he could quickly pull the shirt completely off of you. “There was a lot of blood.” He finished his explanation (not that you asked for one) as he nuzzled his face between your breasts. 

You wanted to giggle, both because his slight stubble on your bare chest tickled and how silly you felt that he basically just motorboated you, but with the way he was already licking and sucking at your tits, your giggle quickly morphed into a moan. And then you finally registered his words. 

A bloodsoaked König, with his sniper hood hiding his face, looked like a monster straight out of a horror movie. The thought of it turned you on so much. “Yea?” Your arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer to you as you lifted your hips to meet his, pressing against his hard dick. 

He chuckled as he sat up on his knees, still between your thighs, and tugged at your panties. You raise your hips enough for him to pull them down and toss to the side.

He leaned over you once again, propping himself up on his left arm, while his right hand found its way to your thigh again. You sighed as he all but had you pinned between his large frame and the bed. There was something frightening about his size, he was almost too big to be human, and yet he also possessed the uncanny ability to make you feel safe, no matter how vulnerable you were.

His fingers dipped between your thighs, his chuckles fading into a low groan when he finds how aroused you are. “You like that, Engel? Want to see me covered in blood, hm?” 

A gasped, “uh-huh!” is all you can offer when his fingers, coated in your slick, rock against your clit. 

König pulls his hand away all too soon, and the frustrated whine you puff out isn’t missed by him. You almost think he is going to tease you, that he is going to revel in the way you’re so desperate for him already, but there is a vulnerable sincerity in his eyes when you look up at him. 

“...Are you proud of me?”

Your lust is momentarily forgotten as you slide a hand to his face, gently cradling his face. His eyes closed as he leaned into your soft and touch. 

It was one thing to know that you accepted his proclivities, another entirely to know that you loved that part of him.

You gently run your thumb over his cheek bone so he could look at you again. You supposed you hadn't shown much enthusiasm for his activities since he nearly killed your coworker. You pull him down for a gentle kiss, whispering your answer against his lips. "Yes."

You even have a surprise for him, but the kiss that followed was much less delicate and much more needy on his part. It’s like he’s trying to mold himself to you, trying to fuse your soul to his. It’s as if he doesn’t want to let you go. And you give into him, forgetting about the little gift. You don’t want him to let go either. 

You’re so pliable under his touch, the way you so easily give your body over to him reminds him of the first night he met you. When you were too weak to stop him from ripping the shreds of your dress off of your body, too weak to stop him from moving your hands to stem the bleeding of a knife wound that should have killed you. The memory of your body, pinned underneath him now, covered in the sweetest blood has him biting down on your shoulder roughly. You gasp and whimper underneath him, only squirming not to get away from him, but to get closer to him. 

He drags his mouth down your body, trailing searing kisses along your skin. As always he pays special attention to the scar that dips below your collarbone, tracing the contours with his tongue as if he hasn't already committed every inch of it to memory. As always as well, he takes his time with your breasts, switching between rough nips into your flesh and gentle swirls of his tongue around the nipple. Every little hitch in your breath, every whine that pushes past your lips, alights his blood on fire.

His hips buck forward, seeking relief in the friction of his hard cock against the soft warm plush of your thighs. You whine, one hand resting on his shoulder and one tangled in his hair, as you feel the hot velvety skin of his cock rubbing the insides of your legs, pre cum smearing on your skin and you're not sure whether to pull him back up so he can stuff your pussy with that massive cock of his, or to push him down so he can lavish his attention elsewhere on your body.

König makes the decision for you as he continues to kiss and nip and lick his way down your body. He attempts to repeat the loving kiss with the scar on your stomach, attempts to trace it with his lips, but you become impatient and push his head, making him chuckle into your skin, which in turn has you also giggling.

He presses a lingering kiss to your pubic bone with a grin plastered on his lips, "so eager for me."

You huff, and make sure to exaggerate the little pout you throw at him. "Don't tease. It's been too long."

This draws another chuckle from him, though he spreads your thighs further apart so he can comfortably fit between them. "Less than a week, my angel."

You prop yourself up on one elbow and reach for his face, forcing him to look at you as you hit him with a trembling lip and the saddest eyes you could muster in the moment. "You promised to take care of me, König."

He stills at your words, muscles tense and eyes so wide that even in the dim light you could see the whites of his eyes. You were right, of course. How could he deny his sweet angel what you desperately wanted, needed? Especially when it was him that you needed. He gently places a hand over yours, never breaking eye contact with you, as he pulls your hand from his face and gently kisses the inside of your wrist, taking your little teasing to heart. “I will.” 

That is all the warning you get before he is diving between your thighs. His breath is hot on your skin as he kisses and licks his way towards your pussy. He doesn't ignore any part of you, his left hand both massaging your inner thigh, kneading at the sensitive flesh and keeping your legs parted wide enough for him.

By the time he draws his tongue through your folds, you're already a quivering mess. His long, deliberate, slow licks have you moaning and gripping his hair. His right arm anchors your hips to the bed, keeping you in place as his tongue circles your clit. You try to muffle the obscene moans that fall from your lips, but König knows you, knows what you like, and drags his tongue down your slit, curls his tongue inside of you to lap at you juices. His own moans fill the air with yours, the subtle vibrations only driving you crazier.

His name is a chant on your lips, your hands gripping his hair even more as you try to fuck his face. He groans and releases the iron grip he has on your hips, right hand snaking up to your chest where he roughly gropes at your tits.

He holds you down for your sake, so he can lick and suck and nip without losing his place between your legs. But as you near your edge, he lets go because there's nothing he loves more than when you shove your pussy into his face. His mouth parted, tongue dragging over every inch of you and pushing into your pussy. His nose bumps and rubs against your clit as he enthusiastically moves his head, his stubble scratching pleasantly against the inside of your thighs.

He could, and probably should, stretch you out a little with his fingers, prepare you for the girth that is his cock, but he’s selfish and wants you to come on his tongue. He switches his pace, frenzied flicks of his tongue on your clit, followed by long firm strokes through your folds until he pushes his tongue into your pussy. He moans again, savoring the ambrosia that he pulls from you with every swipe of his tongue. 

It’s when he starts to rock his hips into the bed, seeking to relieve his aching cock, that it feels like a final wave pushing you to your orgasm. Your thighs squeeze around his head as you pussy clenches wildly around his tongue, aching to be filled and stretched out even more. He continues to slurp at your pussy, his tongue covered in your cum as he gently offers small and gentle licks to your clit, following the movement of your hips without holding you down. 

König is liable to spend too much time between your legs. Liable to ease you down from your orgasm only to pull another one from you. And you’re liable to forget that you were supposed to give him his gift before fucking.

“S-stop! I! I!” You cry and whine and try to push his face away from your oversensitive clit. 

With a grunt, he finally relents and drops a few soft kisses to your thigh before propping himself up on his elbows and running the back of his arm across his face. “What is it, Engel?” 

After a moment to catch your breath, you finally look at him and smile softly at the way he's looking up at you so adoringly. "I have something for you."

A grin breaks out across his face as he kisses your thigh and moves as if he's about to start eating you out again.

"Not that!" You laugh and lightly push his face away from your still sensitive pussy. "Come here," you pat the bed next to you, inviting him to sit down for a moment.

"I got you something," you say as you give him a quick peck to the lips when he sits down beside you.

His hand slides to your waist and you know he's about to pull you on top of him, but you pull away quick enough to turn to the nightstand and flip on the lamp.

There’s some shuffling beside you as you open the drawer. The first thing your hand catches is a bottle of lube, that’s not what you were looking for, but you set it on the table anyways.

One of his hands lands on your thigh and squeezes as he leans with you, his mouth dropping small kisses to your shoulder. “Do we have to do this now?”

“Oh, I guess not.” You say as you put a rectangular box on top of the side table and turn to face him again.

He’s shucked his boxers off, instead of shoving his dick through the opening in front, and has his left hand holding the heft of his hard cock. Your eyes drop down to the wide pink mushroom head and immediately forget that you had been trying to gift him something. 

His right arm wraps around your waist as you kiss him and he pulls you atop one of his thighs. You whimper into his mouth as you grind down on his thigh, your already slick pussy making the glide easier and the friction electrifying. Even as you rock your hips back and forth, one of your hands wraps around his cock, next to his own hand. You both groan at the contact, Him at the way you swipe your thumb over the tip of his cock, collecting pre cum and spreading it over down as you give him sensual little pumps. You groan as you and your pussy clenches achingly at the reminder of how big his cock is, the way there’s enough length for the both of you to stroke down, and the way your fingers don’t even meet around his girthy width. 

As you rest your forehead against his, lip tucked between your teeth as you continue to ride him, you notice his eyes flicker to the side table for just a second.

“You want to see it?” You ask with a breathless laugh, still chasing the pleasure grinding down on his thigh offers. 

He grabs the hand you have wrapped around his cock and makes you squeeze him harder, speaking with a groan as he thrusts his hips up. “Just tell me what it is.” 

“And ruin the surprise?” 

He grunts and grabs your hips, halting your gyrating, while simultaneously smashing his mouth against yours. The kiss is rough, aggressive even, as his tongue tangled with yours, preventing you from further teasing him. Still you moan and giggle into the kiss and blindly reach behind you until you find the box.

“Just open it real quick.” 

He sighed and reluctantly let go of your hips as he took the box from you. “What is the occasion?” 

The real reason? You wanted him to remember you. You were afraid you were nothing but a novelty to him. He wanted you for now, but soon he’d get bored of you and send you away. If you were lucky, he’d kill you, but you were never that lucky in life. He’d provide a safe home for you, make you feel safe standing next to him at the grocery store, or as he picked you up from work. Then he’d leave you, leave you fearing every shadow and bump in the night. To live in the hell that was his absence. 

“A hunting knife?” He unsheathed it, admiring the sheen and sharpness of the hooked blade.

It was deadly sharp, meant for skinning game. It wasn’t anything fancy. Perfectly utilitarian. 

You hummed and stretched out again, this time to grab the bottle of lube you set aside earlier. “You’re the one that asked me if I am proud of you.” You pour some lube into one of your hands, “I was thinking about what you do, and thought you might like this.” You wrap your hand around his cock, spreading the lube along his thick shaft, “at the very least it can make a cute paperweight for your desk.” 

König groans and shuts his eyes, leaning forward to rest his head against your shoulder, as you pump his now very slick cock. His hot breath fans over your skin as he mutters your name and nips at your shoulder. But he pauses when you lean to the side and expose the top of your scar to his mouth.

Suddenly he pulls away from you and looks back at the gifted blade. “You wanted to see me covered in blood, Engel.” 

It’s not a question, though you give him a quiet little “mm-hm" before you’re sitting stock still with a blade pressed against your throat. His cock throbs in your hands as your eyes flick up to meet his. His eyes, blown wide with lust, flicker between your own gaze and the knife he holds to your throat. 

“I have never seen blood as beautiful as yours.” 

Your heart thumps in your chest, and pussy, at his words. Did he think of your blood often? Did he still think of that night? 

You squeeze your hand, giving a tantalizing grip to his cock, and tilt your head to the side, whispering a loving taunt. “It belongs to you.” 

You see droplets of blood splatter across his face before you feel the sting of your flesh sliced open. You gasp, eyes squeezing shut, as pain catches up to you. There’s a clatter of the knife being tossed onto the nightstand before you feel his large hands digging into your hips and moving you so that you are fully straddling him. 

The head of his cock slides through your folds before nudging your clit and sends a wave of pleasure through you that distracts from the pain. You whimper and shudder when you open your eyes to see the look on his face. You imagine that this is what he looked like the night he saved you, but now you see him unmasked, see how the sight of you bleeding before him is nearly driving him insane. 

König moaned when he felt the first drop of blood hit his face, his cock jumping out of your hand and pulsing wildly. Your pained little gasp that followed did not assuage his desire, if anything it fueled it even more. He quickly discarded the knife and pulled you over him, his lubed up cock running along your slick pussy drawing moans out from both of you. 

He looked up at you, lost in bliss as you rocked your hips into him, rubbing your clit onto his cock, and snaked a hand into your hair to pull you down. He breathed in the air around you, filled with the scent of your combined arousal and sweat and, as he pushed his face into your skin, the light coppery scent of your blood. 

You whined again when he disturbed the cut on your neck, the fresh wound following the exact path of the previous one, only to cry out when he drug his tongue through the blood. 

“You have the sweetest blood, my angel.” 

And with a quick, rough, grip to the back of your head, he pulled you into a searing kiss. His tongue immediately found yours as if he was intent to share the taste of you, of your blood and cum. 

His face is smeared in blood when you pull away from his hungry kiss and look at him again. You rest your forehead against his and pant for breath, eyes locking with his as he lifts your lips and properly lines his cock up. 

You whimper when you feel the head of his cock start to spread you, but even his lust filled haze he’s aware enough of himself to go slowly, letting you sink down onto his girthy length at your own pace. 

“König,” you cry when you take him fully, your entire body hot and desperate to be close to him. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, his face tucked into your neck as you start to move your hips up, sliding back down with a moan as he fills you. 

He’s not quiet when your pussy squeezes and pulses around his cock, it feels too good to hold in the moan that rips out of his throat when you start to bounce on his cock. Slick. Your blood and sweat against his skin, your wet pussy around his cock, it’s all heavenly slick and he wants more. He groans and roughly guides your hips down to meet his own thrusts. You cling to him and moan as he easily lifts you only to slam you back down.

“My angel,” he growls hotly into your ear, his eyes rolling back when your pussy flutters tightly around his cock. 

He’s quick to shift positions, cradling the back of your head as he throws you onto your back. You only get to mourn the loss of his cock inside you for a moment before he is throwing one of your legs over his shoulder and bullying his cock back into your pussy.

The new angle allows him impossibly deeper, your moans are so loud you’re nearly screaming at this point. He moans loudly along with you when he glances down between your bodies and sees as he feels how your pussy clings to his cock, doing its best to not let go of him every time he pulls out. 

Your pussy aches and gapes when he pulls all the way out, slipping and accidentally brushing the head of his cock over your clit. You cry out, from the sensation of his slicked cockhead on your clit and for him, even this second without him filling you up is too long without him. You hook the leg he doesn’t have over his shoulder over his waist as he thrusts his cock back into you. It feels like he hits every nerve in your pussy, his pelvis grinding against yours and rubbing your clit and you can’t even say his name as your entire body begins to shake. 

Your orgasm is overwhelming, you claw and grab at König, yet at the same time the consistent grinding of his pelvis on your clit and his huge cock pistoning in and out of you has part of you wanting to push him away. He doesn’t let you, instead he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, chasing his own release. 

König’s head drops to your shoulder, chin hitting the cut on your neck, and groans loudly as you come on his cock, your pussy clenching around him dizzyingly tight. He growls and groans when you begin to struggle against him, sending him over his own edge. He breathlessly stills as his cock throbs, filling you with his cum as your pussy continues to clench around his cock. 

Eventually his hips slow down to a slow, sensual, grind, meeting your hips in the lazy aftermath. He drops your leg from his shoulder and braces himself on his forearms while he continues to nuzzle his face into your neck, sloppy open mouth kisses licking up blood and sweat.

“König,” you sigh and nudge him. He may be holding most of his weight off of you, but he’s still crushing you into the mattress and at this point it’s so hot that it’s starting to become difficult to breathe.

He grunts, his cock giving a final pulse as he pulls out, and rolls to the side. His hand lands heavily on your thigh, “give me a moment, Engel, and I will clean you up.” 

You whine at the sudden empty feeling and, with considerable effort, turn on your side and cuddle up to him, moving his arm around you. He embraces you, eyes closed as he basks in his post orgasmic bliss. 

“You look like a vampire.” You say with a light chuckle and brush a thumb across his chin.

He grins and opens one eye to look at you, “if I could live off of your blood, Engel, I would.” 

Your laugh is cut short with a grimace as you feel his cum leak out of your pussy. “Ok, I need to get up.” 

He sits up with you and pulls you into his lap before standing. “Let me.”

“You don’t always need to carry me to the bathroom!” 

“Can you walk?” 

Actually, probably not. 

König leaves the shower first, letting you relax under the hot water a little longer while he changes the sheets on the bed. There was too much cum, sweat and blood to ignore for the night. 

He’s waiting patiently for you when you finally get out of the shower. He’s thoughtful enough to lay one of his shirts out on the clean sheets for you to wear when he’s finished bandaging you up. 

“It’s not even that bad,” you say as you let him apply an ointment and a gauze bandage on the cut that’s barely bleeding anymore. 

He doesn’t really respond, just grunts and makes sure to secure the bandage properly before he turns around to set everything down on the nightstand. 

“Ah! König!” You gasp and slap a hand over your mouth when you see long scratch marks on his back, small beads of blood surfacing on his skin.

“What!” He turns quickly, eyes wide, afraid that he hurt you.

“I’m so sorry!” You squeak out behind your hand.

“What?” 

You hang your head and hide your face in your hands. “Your back is bleeding!”

“What?” He cranes his neck to look at his own back. 

“How embarrassing,” you mumble to yourself as you take the towel that’s wrapped around you and dab the bit of blood off of him.

His chuckles turn into a laugh, a full loud sound deep from his belly, as you fuss over him. He barely lets you touch his back before he is reaching behind him and pulling you onto his lap.

He stops your protests with a kiss, a smile still pulling at his lips even as he runs his tongue over your lips. “I cut you with a hunting knife, Engel, and you’re worried about little scratches?”  

“Fine,” you hum and pull away from him enough to slip on the tee shirt he laid out for you. “But if it scars, it’ll be the least cool story you’ve got.”

He turns off the lamp as you climb under the blankets. “I disagree. It’ll be my favorite. Next time, I will make you scratch my back even more.” 

König grinned at your little laugh as you settled into his embrace for the night. No, you didn’t hurt him and no he didn’t mind a tiny bit of blood spilled. He’d drown in your blood if he could, how could he not offer you the same? 

[fallingprophetically]

"How could up thirst over some serial killer who would probably kill/hurt you at any point??"

Bruh How would it be any different with any other "man"?? Like at least with these bitches I can fucking see how fucked up they are, they do not fucking hide it behind some fucking mask of shitty kindness or politeness or whatever the fuck and wait till I goddamn leave my drink to fucking drug me or some other fucked up thing shitbags like that do. These fictional serial killers would have more decency and respect than any other "man". Like Jason for example, yeah? That mf be the most respectful bitch. Why? HE WOULDN'T WANT TO SEE MY TITS LET ALONE FUCKING ASSAULT ME CAUSE OF THEM. HE'S OVER THE BARE FUCKING MINIMUM AT FUCKING LEAST. EVEN BRAHMS AND BILLY WOULD BE ABOVE THAT FUCKING LINE AND THEY'RE THE PERVERTS OF THE GODDAMN FANDOM. THEY'D HAVE MORE FUCKING DECENCY AND RESPECT THEN SOME OF FUCKERS WHO'D CALL THEMSELVES "MEN" "Ohhh you should start a family😊😊😊" WITH WHO??? THE FUCKING WALL???? LIKE I'D SERIOUSLY HAVE BETTER FUCKING LUCK COMING OUT UN FUCKING HARMED BY SMEARING FUCKING ANIMAL GUTS ALL OVER MY FUCKING BODY AND WALKING THORUGH A FUCKING SAVANAH. "You should have kids, they'd be the best thing to ever happen to you😁😁😁" LIKE I WOULD EVEN WANT TO BE PREGNNT. PREGNANT FEM PRESENTING PEOPLE ARE AT A HIGHER FUCKING RISK OF BEING ASSAULTED THAN NON PREGNENT FEM PRESENTING PEOPLE. AND WHY WOULD I WANT TO BRING A CHILD INTO THIS FUCKED UP WORLD, LET ALONE A FEM ONE. AND WHO'S TO FUCKING SAY I'D EVEN RAISE A GOOD KID??? MY KID COULD EVEN END UP BECOMING PART OF THE FUCKING PROBELEM. Some people are just so fucking oblivious and others are just fucking disgusting.

[ceejaykayess]

Endgame spoilers for AI The Somnium Files abound, play the best part of Uchikoshi's wild ride (said by someone who hasn't seen anything before his Zero Escape stuff).

Can't believe this started with me just wanting to draw my own take on a non-mask wearing Date in Nirvana Initiative and then evolved (devolved, even) into wanting to draw character-centric pieces on the various Dates that then further changed into wanting to work on actually adding background to works which just turned into "make most of it black, but draw attention to symbolism."

Kinda funny I got less content with each subsequent image, with the first being the one I'm most confident in. The faces just got more and more scuffed as I had to draw them from different angles to any references I have. Something to practice on, I suppose.

The first piece could be called "SINKIN' IN THE CAPTaiN'S BRaiN," since it's meant to combine the background of the two of Date' Somnium and their shared motif of being places where to interact with things, light needs to be on them. Which I have thoughts about, thoughts about natural Dadte, but now's not the time.

The second piece, similarly, could be called "VaiNLY PSYNCIN' IN THE CHaiN," or "CHaiNED, PSYNCIN' IN THE VaiN." Depends on whether you want to think of it as Saito pridefully entering Date's mind full force, or Date being forced to drown within Saito. I am horribly curious what PSYNCIN' IN THE CHaiN looked like from Saito's PoV, though. I wonder if it shared the usual motif, or if the topic of discussion being very forcefully turned to something generally unhappy would shift the Somnium's paradigm.

The third piece does not have an elaborate title, since it focuses the least on giving a proper background. It was made to be similar to the final Mental Lock in PSYNCIN' IN THE CAPTaiN, but also reminiscent of the game's cover art. I suppose you could call it... "PSYNCIN' IN THE MIRai"? But, that doesn't suit as much. Actually, to follow the idea of it being my weak spin on NI Date, we could call it "New Invitation." Or something.

Now, the important part. The Date. There isn't really much I could do on him that hasn't been done before, but that's fine. We all build together and all that. I first wanted it to be, a Date that wore his usual clothes but in a way Falco would have worn them. That is, open jacket, and replacing his sweater with a button-up purple and black-striped shirt. Showing off his chest, the whore.

Problem is, Date's usual jacket has huge fucking crossover. Any IRL equivalent I could think of usually had a vest-cut for the neck, instead of some fucking Nomura-type neck protector. So, I had to content myself with not showing off as much of the Datitties as I would have hoped. Instead, his jacket looks all poofs at the side, which is a poorly made attempt at showing that there's an invisible wind blowing everything to the right side of the image, as weakly shown in left-Date's hair being blown back and Falco's jacket being blown forward. Very, very weakly, when I consider how not as much detail as I would hope is conveyed in the pictures I took... how do I rectify that? Take closer pictures?

Whatever, next. Date has his hair in a ponytail, which you can vaguely see over his left shoulder. It's so grey compared to the rest of his hair, because I thought, "Ah, what if in the six year gap Date grew his hair out in his ignorance, and got some of it dyed by, I dunno, a friend he met, and made it the same shade as the mask he kept as a memento from whatever life he led before he woke up memory-less." Some of his lower hair near his neck is dyed, too.

Date's right hand is gloved and his left hand is ungloved because I thought it looked cool, shut up. Also, he has his right hand over his face because I decided that's what he does when he Wink Psyncs. Mizuki gives a peace sign, Ryuki shows off his respect to the aliens, Date listens to his inner-Saito (the part that is a dramatic bitch, not the serial killer part) and poses like an anime villain losing it.

[hooterhorror]

Hope you're doing well 💕! I have a little request if ya don't mind, How would the slashers be like if they lived together as roomates? Tysm and don't forget to drink water ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

THIS IS SUCH AN INTERESTING IDEA!! bet anon, I hope this was good!

Slashers are roommates.

format: headcanons

warnings: cursing. general crack.

RZ!Michael and the Sawyers.

I use he/she/they for bubba and they/them for choptop!

Rz!Myers has the prettiest blonde hair the family has seen. Even with his lack of self care for the longest time, his hair remains full of life. Opposes death just like The Shape himself does. choptop is always staring right at his hair and loudly asks "You gonna keep that hair or can I have it?"

how this family and Michael even met is beyond me, but it's funny to think about!

Drayton's yelling doesn't bother Michael all that much... In fact he usually stares the man down when he starts yelling about money and meat not being able to cut itself. Then the giant that is Myers turns to look at the others with a look that says "is he yelling at me? ME??"

Drayton's lucky Michael has some form of respect for him. Michael does sort of admire how this single man keeps this shit show of a family together and provides for everyone and has raised his brothers himself, so he isn't about to stab him for talking to him like that.

Isn't even the least a bit fazed by Bubba showing up in drag or with makeup on their mask. It's basically a normal Tuesday.

Hates how the twins kinda start to look up to Michael as an older brother figure, but it kinda tickles him. Especially when nubbins climbs him like a tree.. which he basically is.

Maybe eventually he'll let bubba paint his nails. Or choptop braid his hair (as long as he's sure they won't chop it off at a moments notice)

And damn does he grow protective of them.

if the group that winds up in town makes fun of any of them, Michael will just have to kill them where they stand.

Michael and Thomas respect each other. Luda Mae creeps Michael out.

yes a little old lady freaks out the Michael Myers. Have you seen her? Everyone talks about how she hooked a serial killer in the 60s across the face when she was younger and now he's careful what he does around her.

Brahms and the Sinclairs.

THIS WOULD BE SO FUNNY HEAR ME OUT- Brahms still seeks shelter in the walls and Bo absolutely hates it. Calls him a rat for it.

just imagine waking up in the dead of night to hear Bo shouting "BRAHMS GET OUT OF THOSE DAMN WALLS OR SO HELP ME GOD"

Brahms and Vincent get along really well. Brahms is more outgoing even if he hides in walls. He'll probably try to get Vincent to say fuck like he's a three year old.

Vincent teaches Brahms sign language and Brahms only ever uses the "bitch" sign at bo. Lester loses it and Bo starts shouting up a storm. They never physically fight, but Brahms does roughhouse with Lester!

Lester just leaps at Brahms and they roll around. Like they ain't grown men in the middle of the road just rolling around like a couple a kids. But that's exactly what they are.

Bo ends up treating Brahms like another annoying little brother. Even if they disagree and Brahms is spoiled and still adjusting to being a poor southern white man, there are moments where they share stories of their childhood and stories of the less than great moments.

Vincent's workspace is off limits to Brahms. Simply because Brahms would make a mess, but also Brahms wouldn't like seeing all those tiny flames.

platonic bro cuddles are common. Brahms is a cuddle bug and needs attention from his newfound family.

also hc that luda mae knew trudy sinclair and was legally the boys godmom. Therefore Brahms and the three brothers could meet Michael during the holidays at luda mae's. Chaos.

Billy Lenz and Stu M + Billy L.

I love the idea of Stu and Billy Loomis being in love and dating, but I typically write them separately and not as a poly with reader unless speociifed, btw. But let's say they're dating and living together and Billy Lenz cozies up in their attic.

Stu swears they have a rodent problem in the attic, Loomis says he'll call an exterminator and never does. Then the calls start.

Lenz is on his usual muttering spiel and snorts into the phone while Stu just stands there in a mix of horror and... indifference. I feel like Stu has seen some crazy things as he's grown up with Loomis so.... If anything he just corrects Lenz.

"Sorry dude, I'm not a girl."

*click*

seriously it's really funny. Stu becomes accustomed to the person in their attic while Loomis.... eh not so much. I mean they can't exactly call the police because Lenz has found their video tapes of murders and all that.... So it would be unwise.

Stu begins to bring up some dinner to Lenz and finds out his love for candy canes and liking towards Christmas, and the next time Loomis is up there it's decorated with their Christmas lights and there's a bag of mini candy canes that's been opened.

"Stu! Are you feeding that guy!?"

"yeah! he's really cool!"

Loomis tolerates Lenz but... but barely. Lenz is always ruining soft moments between the couple, and it's getting annoying!

Stu and Loomis could be cuddling on the couch and lenz will race downstairs holding up two rats he found, screaming and giggling about them. Stu encourages this behavior. Loomis hates it.

"What the hell!? put those down!!"

"C'mon he's just having fun! look at him!"

Stu knows more about lenz than Loomis, of course. It's why he understands lenz more and is trying to get Loomis to give him a chance and the benefit of the doubt

They have a bit of a "in love with each other + gremlin little brother who their older sibling is very proud of"

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Dear Evan Hansen

You may have seen some ~online discourse~ about the film Dear Evan Hansen, an adaptation of the 2016 Broadway musical, and you might have wondered what all the hubbub is about. I mean, it’s a feel good story about a senior in high school, Evan Hansen (Ben Platt), who has some pretty severe anxiety and depression. While trying to fulfill an assignment from his therapist to write a letter to himself, his letter gets picked up by another student, Connor (Colton Ryan) - and later that day, Connor kills himself. Connor’s grieving parents and sister Zoe (Amy Adams, Danny Pino, and Kaitlyn Dever) are desperate to learn more from the boy they think was Connor’s best friend - after all, Connor’s suicide note was a letter addressed to “Dear Evan Hansen.” And, as you can imagine, Evan tells them about the unfortunate mistake and sits with them in their grief as they struggle to pick up the pieces of their lives. 

Just kidding! He lies to them, repeatedly, elaborately, expansively for months, constructing an entire false friendship with Connor that never happened, and ingratiating himself into the wealthy nuclear family he never had, in large part because he wants to get into Zoe’s pants! THIS IS THE PROTAGONIST OF THE STORY. Oh, and it’s a musical so there is a lot of singing and crying and singing WHILE crying and sometimes crying and not singing at all. But the #inspiration, you guys. 

Things I liked:

Pretty much everything but the story and Ben Platt’s performance. The supporting cast is stacked, and all of them do a great job at elevating material scraped directly out of a diaper worn by someone who just chewed their way through a copy of the DSM-5. 

A couple of the songs are damn catchy - “Waving Through a Window” and “You Will Be Found” are standouts for a reason - and here’s the thing, Platt sings them well. But as you’ll discover, there’s a lot more to a movie musical than just singing your part. 

Stephen Chbosky, the man behind every deep thought I and a lot of people in my generation had in 2006 after he wrote The Perks of Being a Wallflower, is a pretty good director. I particularly enjoyed the fanvid-type cuts in “Waving Through a Window” in conjunction with the lyrics, and his use of interstitial shots to flashbacks (and sometimes flashforwards!) is a neat little bit of shorthand that I thought was used sparingly enough to be effective. 

Amy Fucking Adams. She’s holding on so hard, so desperately to the idea of who her son could have been, rather than the reality of who he was, and she is full of such deep pain that is masked by an almost endless supply of patience with Evan and relentless positivity. All this made me want was Enchanted 2 even worse than I already did. 

Super into everything Zoe wears - the costuming department did a great job, and now all I want to do is live in mom jeans and baggy sweaters.

Did I Cry? I teared up a couple of times because I’m not a completely heartless bastard and when Amy Adams offered Evan Connor’s college money, my heart broke for the lie Evan had thrust upon her, and Julianne Moore’s song got me good, because she’s just a single mom to Evan who is doing her goddamn best. 

Things I hated more than the time I dropped a frozen gallon container of fruit cocktail on my pinkie toe in my parents’ garage and it turned black and I thought it was gonna fall off:

Ben Platt is 28 years old. He originated the role of Evan Hansen on Broadway, so in many respects it makes sense that he plays the role in the movie, except for the one kinda sorta important thing where he looks like a wizened old crone standing amongst a sea of children doing his best twitching, cringing Hunchback of Notre Dame impression. If you want someone to convincingly play 20 years their junior, hire Paul Rudd. Otherwise, please don’t ask me to believe that this supposed 18-year-old has crow’s feet. 

And that twitching nervous energy is a huge part of the black hole at the center of this film - he’s playing to the cheap seats and walking through the halls of his high school like a wet chihuahua. It’s an excruciating acting choice to watch - he doesn’t just have anxiety, he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown seemingly every second of every day. Like honestly, where is only-mentioned-never-seen Dr. Sherman, because this young man’s meds are NOT WORKING DR. SHERMAN. 

There’s such a lack of self-awareness on behalf of the writing, directing, and performance by Platt. There’s one song, “Sincerely, Me,” that offers the only glimpse of commentary about what Evan is doing, by pointing out the malicious ridiculousness of him writing a series of fake emails as proof of his and Connor’s friendship. 

Also what high schoolers email this much?? I know this was written in probably 2014 or so, but has a bitch never heard of a text? Even a DM? This whole plot is constructed around the premise that high schoolers are just constantly, constantly emailing each other. 

Everything - and I mean EV-ER-Y-THING - about Evan’s relationship with Zoe is so creepy and disturbing that with a soundtrack change, this could easily be a horror movie. He attempts to get her to like him by describing to her all the things her brother noticed about her - oh wait, I’m sorry, all the things HE noticed about her while he was skulking in the shadows following her around for years, watching every move she made, and it ends with him singing repeatedly “I LOVE YOU” because following a girl around and never having a conversation with her or knowing her at all is love, right? This was clearly written by the same people who chose “Every Breath You Take” as their wedding song because Sting is hot and they never actually listened to the damn words. 

And it gets about 10 billion times worse when Zoe goes to Evan’s house alone, takes him up to his room, and sings “I don’t need reasons to want you” and that was the moment I was that person I hate in a movie theater and I pulled out my phone to Google who wrote the music and lyrics to the musical (we were in the back row of the theater no one was behind me THIS WAS AN OUTRAGE EMERGENCY) and of motherfucking course it was written by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, 2 men who heard about meeting an actual human woman from a friend one time but otherwise are unfamiliar with the concept. 

Lastly, enormous serial killer vibes from Evan sending unlabeled flash drives anonymously through the mail with no note in an attempt to right his wrongs. That’s not catharsis, that’s how the next installment in the Saw franchise starts, with Evan in a Billy the clown doll mask showing up on the screen and asking if you want to play a fucking game. 

Also, I know it’s not possible for the narrative to justify this in a way that could be satisfying based on Evan’s actions, but what is with this thing where single working-class mom Julianne Moore is turning down rich people’s money for Evan to go to college? Like, obviously we can’t have that happen in the movie but in real life, fuck your pride! Take those rich people’s money!

I also know how movies work but nothing annoys me more than a giant group of high schoolers all getting beeps and boops to indicate text notifications all at the same time because I don’t know a single person under the age of 55 who keeps their ringer on. That shit is on vibrate AT MOST, and I feel like that’s a millennial thing. 

The emotional climax of the film is obviously Evan’s WAY TOO LATE confession, but the idea that it’s prompted by Connor’s family suddenly getting a lot of internet hate is, frankly, laughable. If Sandy Hook taught me one thing, it is that no tragedy is immune from trolls who live only to cause other people devastating emotional pain on the internet. That shit starts day 1. Apparently no one involved in this production has ever been on Twitter?

Also it feels like there should have been a dog somewhere in this movie and there was no dog, so points off for that too. 

Perhaps Dear Evan Hansen isn’t nearly as deep as it aspires to be. Perhaps it’s a morality play, a simplistic message of “Don’t lie, kids, lying is bad!” Major studio movies wrap themselves up with a nice bow at the end so everyone can feel good about themselves and leave with a happy ending, but the moronic cruelty on display here makes that feat feel impossible. We’re left with Evan in an orchard, reading Connor’s favorite books and staring into the big blue sky with all the self-actualization he’s earned now as a lil treat. And if Evan Hansen looked like an actual 18-year-old, it would be a lot easier to extend more empathy to him and his not-fully-developed prefrontal cortex, but it’s a little harder with this fully-grown, weathered man who was old enough to remember seeing Liar Liar in theaters. 

Dear Evan Hansen, 

Get some actual help and a haircut and maybe you can grow up enough to have an actual healthy interaction with any other living person, ever.

Sincerely, 

Me

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

[phcking-detective]

MasterList 2.0

Kiss Prompt Series (all PG)

Angry Kiss – Gavin chases after a perp without backup and gets shot multiple times. He can’t believe his asshole android partner is staying behind to help him instead of catching the perp, but maybe RK900 cares more than he thinks. Maybe a lot more …

Reunion Kiss – Nines returns a day early from an intensive case and stops by Gavin’s favorite coffee shop to get his boyfriend a treat. But Gavin is already there and apparently has the same idea.

Awkward Forehead Kiss – Nines takes care of his sick human partner as best he can, but all human media seems to indicate sick humans need forehead kisses to feel better. Too bad he doesn’t know how to kiss. Luckily, Gavin is happy to help teach him.

Forced Kiss – Nines attempts to break up with Gavin for the detective’s own good. That goes about as well as you’d expect. (NO non-con! Gavin just kisses Nines in the middle of his mental breakdown while he tries to self-isolate.)

Drunk Kiss – Connor and Hank bring in a box of Sumo’s puppies to the precinct Christmas party. When two go missing, Nines tracks them down to find … Detective Reed? He did not realize his maladjusted human partner could be so gentle.

Forehead Kiss – human!Richard is having a bad mental health day and gloomily declares he needs serotonin. android!Gavin and himbo extraordinaire offers to go to the grocery store and get him some.

***

Extra Drabbles (all PG or Teen)

HOT SINGLE ANDROID IN YOUR AREA – Gavin keeps getting spam pop-ups on his computer about hot androids who want to fuck. Until he finally notices they’re now only talking about one single android in particular. Who could it be?

Dumb Ways to Deviate: Cheeseburger – Nines takes Gavin out to eat as a reward for solving a case they’ve been working on for the past 36 hours. When the exhausted human tries to feed him, Nines suddenly experiences–[feelings]??

crush.exe –Nines thinks Gavin is cute. But that’s just objective fact, right? Anyone would think he’s cute. Tina disagrees and diagnoses him with something called a “crush.”

INTRUDER ALERT – Nines visits Gavin’s apartment to discuss a case, but there is an [INTRUDER] wearing an ingenius chocolate scrub mask that confuses his facial recognition software.

Find Familiar -- Nines is the most brilliant wizard of their generation, and when they summon their familiar for the first time, they expect some sort of unique and brilliant creature. Not a short, angry little man with a facial scar and bare feet banging on their door three days later.

Bathtime -- Nines isn’t spoiled, and if he is, it’s only because Gavin keeps giving him everything he asks for. Like “help” washing his hair in the bath.

Love Letter -- Gavin receives an anonymous letter detailing how the sender wants to analyze his skin and catalog his teeth. The two suspects? Well, it was obviously either written by Detroit’s latest serial killer or ... Gavin’s own partner.

Not Alone -- After Gavin gets shot in the side, falls off a building, and breaks two of his limbs, Nines is desperate to see him the moment he's out of surgery. Except the hospital he's at has a "legal family members only" visitation policy to keep out androids. In desperation, Nines calls a very old emergency contact number that lists "Eli Reed" as Gavin's brother--only to suddenly be on the phone with Elijah Kamski himself.

Happiness is a Jealous Android -- Gavin starts hanging out with a new GJ500 for smoke breaks, mutual bitching about work, and maybe a little light flirting. Him and Nines haven’t discussed the thing they have going, and Nines has been busy anyway, so a little flirting is OK, right? Except for when the other android won’t take no for an answer ...

Dumb Ways to Deviate: Birds -- An argument between RK900 and Gavin on whether bats are mammals or birds leads to ... well. What it says on the tin.

updated list of fics in my main reed900 series under the cut!

Reed900 Main Series (all Explicit)

In the Beginning -- 7k words; RK900 follows the orders [stay in room 6459] and [do not interfere] while deviants attack and shut down Cyberlife, and it’s not because he’s “petty” as the deviant Connor accuses. If Cyberlife wanted its help, they should not have forgotten the unit in a storage closet.

Fight Club (but Explicitly Gay This Time) – 2k words; RK900 decides to “discipline” Gavin in the DPD men’s bathroom by spanking and stepping on him. Unfortunately, the disgusting little human actually enjoys it.

Fast and Furious – 5.5k words; Nines notices how competent Gavin is at driving. In fact, he’s noticing a lot about Gavin, which is unfortunate, because he doesn’t know what it means. Maybe slapping the human more will help …

Ain’t Got Time to Bleed – 27k words; Gavin and Nines engage in exciting new activities, like solving a case together, going out for drinks, hustling at pool. Specifically, Nines gets hustled by Gavin, but he pays it back tenfold in the alleyway afterward.

First Blood – 129k words; Gavin and Nines get caught up in a case that’s a lot more complicated than it seems as they run into a Ponzi scheme and a staged suicide, an attempted murder on the journalist who broke the story, and a mysterious android manipulating it all. Even worse, they’re starting to actually kind of like each other too. But will their partnership be strong enough to get them through kidnapping, torture, and safe / sane / consensual sex?

If It Bleeds -- 14k, ongoing; While dealing with the fallout of the WJ700 case, Gavin and Nines also get assigned to the new Android Task Force when they start investigating on their own anyway. But their cases get more complicated as both the IA and FBI hold a grudge, Nines makes new sexual explorations of his own, and Gavin’s ex-boyfriend attempts to reconnect …

***

Bonus HankCon Fic (Explicit)

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This – 66k; Connor determines co-sleeping with Hank will be a productive, healthy venture–and step one on his three year plan to seduce Hank. Unfortunately for him, Hank is a gay, self-destructive old man who manages to fuck up The Plan by both already being in love with him and also refusing to acknowledge that. (75% domestic fluff, 24% sex at the end, 1% Sumo eating food he���s not supposed to)

***

Patreon (shameless promotion)

If you love my reed900 series and want to get chapters sooner, like my drabbles and want patreon-exclusive bonus content, and chapters from THREE of my WIPS, the tiers are $1 / $2 / $3 per chapter, respectively. I post chapters once a week on Sunday ^^

I also take commissions: $10 for 1k / $25 for 3k / $40 for 5k, NSFW and kink friendly, limits are no incest, pedophilia, or rape scenes. just PM me or email arthurofcamelot4@gmail.com if you’re interested ^^

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Three Days of The Hunter Job

leverage 2.05

hunt for the truth = fox news

you can’t change my mind, sorry

- - - - -

Nate: Here's what we can do. We can probably get you enough money to save the house and pay for medical bills--

Sarah: We aren't interested in money, Mr. Ford. This woman took my father's self-esteem. She took his reputation. She took his good name. That's what he needs back.

someone needs to make a compilation of their clients being noble as hell

- - - - -

Sophie: I wanna take the lead on this one. I wanna do what you do.

Nate: Yeah, listen, I know breakups can be very difficult, Sophie.

Sophie: Whoa. No, that's not what this is about.

Nate: I know that you have this need to be in control right now, you know.

Sophie: I don't have any such need.

Nate: But you can't project that onto the con.

Sophie: Excuse me? This, coming from the man who spent an entire year drunk, working out his obsessive vengeance on every dimwit in a suit who happened to cross our line of vision.

Nate: Hey, you put some thought into that one, didn't you?

Sophie: You know, I'm not tryin' to control the universe just because some guy dumped me. I-I appreciate the concern. I just, I need a new challenge.

Nate: Okay. (hands Sophie the files) This is your job.

Sophie: Thanks. Now, let's go get this bitch. (walks away)

Nate: Oh, boy

fucking get rekt nate you’re the literal last one to talk

- - - - -

huh nate is wearing flannel in this one

- - - - -

Sophie: Exactly. And then to protect themselves, they issue an apology to Mr. Pennington and then they throw Monica Hunter into the jaws of the very media machine that she bent to her own malicious will.

Parker: Wow. I gotta say, Sophie's briefings are much more dramatic.

Eliot: And poetic.

parker and eliot are cute

- - - - -

Sophie: But we can sell a story that commands respect. A story that she's gonna chase to get the respect she craves. Hm? Pack your bags, everyone. We're going to D.C. to make news.

(everyone continues sitting, looking uncomfortable)

Nate: That's when you wanna...

Sophie: I wanna do that bit again. Pack your bags, everyone. We're going to D.C. to make news. (leaves room)

Nate: She's walking into the closet

SOPHIE ITS OKAY YOU DONT NEED TO GO IN THE CLOSET

- - - - -

Parker: I got the pass. Easy.

Sophie: Parker, we went over this.

[Exterior Studio]

Sophie: You're not supposed to take it. Get caught with it.

Parker: I don't know how to get caught.

Sophie: Yeah, I know it's difficult to steal badly. Just, just try

- - - - -

Monica (grabs Parker): Hey. Hey. I will have you arrested for trespassing if you do not tell me what you are doing here.

Parker: Technically, you can't have me arrested for trespassing because you don't own the station.

Sophie: Parker, tell her the story

parker: TRY ME BITCH

- - - - -

hardison doing crazy tinfoil hat guy is iconic

+ parker and hardison’s high five and “that’s what I’m talkin about!” ADORABLE

- - - - -

Parker: Eliot, these conspiracies aren't real, right?

Eliot: What do you mean?

Parker: Like that one over there that says all the major wars of the past 50 years were ordered by members of The Council.

Eliot: Parker, I'm not at liberty to discuss that with you. (walks away)

Parker: You're not a member of The Council, are you? Eliot? Is he?

Nate: Oh, I don't know. (walks away)

Parker: Huh? Uh, Nate, is he?

parker looked so vulnerable asking it and eliot’s just like,,, imma fuck with her LMFAO

also this is another chaotic ot3 scene that I’d die for

- - - - -

eliot taking the general’s id with his pencil and handing it off to hardison? SMOOTH AS FUCK

- - - - -

Parker: But what if he won't talk to us?

Monica: Then we celebrate.

Parker: Celebrate?

Monica: Denial means guilt. Refusal means more guilt. Punch out my cameraman, and I'll kiss you on the mouth.

Camera Man: Mm-hm.

parker: 👀👀👀

- - - - -

parker gets hit with a car ,,, how many times in this series does she get hit with a car ??

- - - - -

monica’s face when she sees parker get hit by a car is LITERALLY the exact same as the surprised pikachu face

+

bruh imagine you see this happening ,,, like a girl get hit by a car, a suit running out, grabbing stuff of her body, then running away ???

her playing dead on the ground for a hot minute before “waking up”, dusting herself off and walking away ???

- - - - -

Hardison: Move. Don't stop. Come on.

Monica: They ran her over.

Hardison: I know, but we gotta go. Security cameras, the ATM cameras, the traffic cameras. We're always being watched. Just put your head down. Act natural.

Monica: Why are you dressed like a mailman?

Hardison: Invisible man, mailman, nobody notices the mailman. He blends right in. Just like a circus clown.

- - - - -

Parker: We totally went to the moon.

Eliot: Movie sets. I've seen 'em. They're outside of Albuquerque.

Parker: Why would there still be sets there?

Eliot: Because they're gonna reuse 'em for the Mars mission. Repaint it all red.

her bumping shoulders with eliot and leaning on him? the casual intimacy that nourishes my S O U L

- - - - -

Sophie: She has to have corroboration from her own sources. She has to craft the narrative. Monica Hunter has to be the author of her own personal nightmare.

Nate: Do I sound that creepy when I...?

Eliot: Hell yes.

Parker: Mm-hm.

Nate: Really?

Eliot: You do

- - - - -

Sophie: The only question is whether Hardison guessed her sources right.

Hardison: G-guess? Guess?

Sophie: Well, you know.

Hardison: Woman, my name Alec Hardison. I do not guess, OK? Look, journalists, they're lazy. They always go back to the same sources. I compared Monica Hunter's stories for the last ten years and created a heuristic model based on her sources. I-I filtered by story type, priority and evidentiary chain. Look, (pulls up info on laptop) sex scandal: 87 percent chance she goes to these sources. Serial killer scare: 90 percent she contacts these sources for confirmation. Government secrets and health scare intersects: Ninety-five percent chance she goes to these sources. Look, look. Right there. She's emailing them right now. Look.

- - - - -

Hardison: Get me out of here.

Sophie: Yeah, I'm working on it.

Parker (comes out of back room pulling on jacket): I'm on it.

Sophie: No, no, no, no, no, you cannot go. You're dead. Monica Hunter sees you and the whole con is blown.

Parker: Right

PARKER WAS R E A D Y TO GO IN AFTER HIM WE LOVE A PROTECTIVE OT3

- - - - -

Hardison: Damn the con. I'm a black man caught on an Army base with a video camera. I am going to jail forever.

the realest part of the show

- - - - -

Hardison: Eliot, get me everything you can on a Lieutenant Abbot.

[Apartment]

Hardison: Just-just do what I taught you.

Eliot (typing on laptop): Now, the "http" thing comes before—

[Interrogation Room 2]

Eliot: --the "www-dot," right?

Hardison: Eliot!

[Apartment]

Eliot: Which one's the forward slash?

Sophie: Oh, come on.

[Interrogation Room 2]

Hardison: It ain't the time, Eliot. It ain't the time.

[Apartment]

Eliot: It's not fun when you're hanging out there in the wind and there's a dude behind a laptop cracking jokes, is there?

Parker: (holding a gas mask over her face before looking over it) I like it when we switch jobs. It's exciting

someone PLEASE make an eliot-being-bad-at-technology compilation I’m begging

also it’s officially canon that hardison tries teaching eliot about technology

- - - - -

Eliot: No, that's everything on this guy.

Lieutenant: Sir, I need to know why you're on this base.

Hardison: Yes. Why am I on this base?

Lieutenant: I'm asking you.

Hardison: No, I'm asking you. Why am I on this base? Why am I in this room?

Lieutenant: So I can ask you questions.

Hardison: Or maybe it's so I can ask you questions, Lieutenant Kyle Abbot, Social Security 823-24-6270?

Lieutenant: I don't know what you're up to.

Hardison: Maybe you’re not cleared to know. Two disciplinary actions? That one in Germany? Maybe you're just too much of a security risk.

(lieutenant goes to leave and Hardison slams his fist on the table)

Hardison: Did I say you could leave?

(lieutenant swallows nervously)

T H I S

S C E N E

T H O

- - - - -

[Army Base Gate]

Nate: Not gonna work.

Eliot: It's all in the salute, man.

[Apartment]

Sophie: Just work the stars and bars. Nobody wants to--

[Army Base Gate]

(a soldier moves to the side of the car and leans in, saluting Nate)

Sophie: --look a general in the eye.

Nate: Uh, good form soldier. As you were.

Soldier: Clear.

(the gate goes up and Nate pulls into the base, parking near a building. He gets out of the car and walks toward the door)

- - - - -

Nate: We hunt for the truth through many dark places. (approaches Monica menacingly) I am a patriot, Ms. Hunter. I'm sorry. (to Eliot) Earl.

(Monica takes a can of pepper spray from her purse and sprays it in Nate’s face, driving him back. She runs out the door as he groans in pain. Eliot goes to pat his back)

Eliot: Good thing Parker switched that with water.

Nate: Didn't! Didn't switch. (they both start coughing)

LMFAO

- - - - -

Monica: My friends, this is the enemy. Our water has been poisoned.

(an aide spits out a mouthful of water)

JFNSKDKEJWJNFJ

- - - - -

(Eliot is cutting vegetables while Nate opens a bottle of wine and Hardison swirls orange soda in a wine glass)

hardison is literally swirling his neon orange soda in a wine glass as eliot cooks actual food for the fam I CANNOT

- - - - -

Parker (holds up photo): Loch Ness Monster.

Hardison: Loch Ness submarine.

Parker: No!

Eliot: Scottish waters are cold and deep. It's a perfect place to test.

Parker (holds up photo): Area 51.

Eliot: True.

Hardison: False.

Eliot: That's true.

Hardison: False. She said Area 51, 51.

Eliot: I'm sorry. False. Area 52.

Hardison: Been there.

Eliot: Yep

I’m crying the ot3 was top tier chaotic this entire episode and parker was having A Time™ with all these conspiracies

someone make a compilation of these scenes overlayed with the wii music. pls.

[1-800-hellraiser]

(Just a P.S.A, this is more of a 'father and daughter' type thing, in this oneshot, you're 15. MAPs are disgusting. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.)

Requested by: no one 

Pages: 7.5

Words: 2,733

Genre: fluffyyyyyyyy

Associated song: Daddy Issues - The Neighborhood

!TW! Mentions of family issues, mental and emotional abuse, blood, murder and some swearing.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

"And if you were my little girl, I'd do whatever I could do. I'd run away and hide with you, I love that you got daddy issues." 

​​​      Throughout your life, you were a good kid. You followed directions, you were kind and friendly, everything a parent could ask for in a child. Except, your parents were different, your parents hated you. They would call you names, manipulate you and put you down. You obviously hated it, so, one day you snapped. You killed your family, you didn't feel guilty.

     Now, you live in a mansion with a bunch of serial killers, some human, most not. They are your family now, and you're glad to call them that. One being in particular that makes you feel this way is Hoodie. He was the first one to take you to Slender's mansion. Since then, you've been training to becime a proxy, just like him. 

     You see him as a father figure, you never said anything about it though. You don't want your relationship with him to be ruined. You're scared that if you tell him how you'll feel, he'll abandon you. The only  one who knows about this is Slender, since he's the only one (other than Hoodie) that you trust in the mansion with this information. 

      You have a big day ahead of you today. You go on your first mission with Hoodie. You've been living in the mansion for about six months, those months have been used as training months. Now, you're ready for you're first misson as a proxy. You're excited, but also very nervous. What if you mess it up. What if the target gets away. What if you lose Hoodie.  What if you lose his respect. What if-

      "Good morning Y/n. You have to get up to get ready for the mission. You've got thirty minutes, I'll be waiting downstairs." You turn in your bed to face Hoodie. You take your hand from under your covers and give him a thumbs up. He chcukles at your action and closes the door. 

   After Hoodie leaves, you roll to the edge of your mattress and sit up. You raise both your arms above your head and stretch your back. You get up and pad over to your dresser. You open up the first drawerbto get undergarments and socks. The next drawer, you pull out your f/s (favorite shirt). You open the second to last drawer to grab some denim jeans.

   You walk over to the bathroom built into your room. You put your clothes on the edge of the sink, and grab the towel that you used yesterday. You gently turn the handle to adjust the temperature. Silently taking off your pajamas, you toss them on the floor. Making a mental note to get them when you get put of the shower, you step into the shower. 

    You step out of the shower and grab your towel. Wrapping the towel around you, you pick up your pajamas with a dry hand, then toss them in with your dirty clothes. You pad back in to the bathroom and dry yourself off. After you dry off, you style your hair how you want. After that, you put on some deodorant and start putting on your clothes. 

    "Damn, this smells good." You comment to yourself  about your body fragrance. You look in the mirror above your sink. You twist and turn a bit, then put your hands on your hips confidently. "I look like a boss ass bitch," You comment at your reflection. You walk out of the bathroom and grab your combat boots that are put neatly next to your bedroom door. 

    Sliding on your boots and tying them tight, you grab your weapon of choice. A simple aluminum baseball bat. You also grabbed your plain black zip-up hoodie, and headed downstairs. You try your best to walk down the stairs as quietly as you possibly can. You don't want to wake anybody up. Especially Jeff, you rather not get stabbed today. 

   Silently stepping off the last stair, you gently speedwalk to the living room. The living room is also close to the kitchen and the front door. The only thing dividing the kitchen from the living room was a counter. Bringing yourself back from the decor of the murder mansion, you turn to see a smiling Hoodie. He doesn't have his mask on yet, which suprises you greatly. 

   Hoodie always wears his mask, even if its unbearably hot outside, or when he's sleeping. You don't understand how its comfortable, but you learned from living with a bunch of serial killers to just not question it. "You ready to go?" His soft tone brings you back from your thoughts. You just simply nod and walk out the door with him. 

   The pastas and proxies don't normally have to use cars to get to their destination, but there are rare occurrences where they do. Only on missions that take more than an 45 minutes in walking time. This one was not an exception, just driving to this person's house will take you and Hoodie about a hour and a half.  

  The only car the pastas and proxies have is this big white van. Dubbed 'the candy van' by Jeff and BEN. Because of it's nature in media, you can see why the name sticks. You hop into the passenger seat and make yourself comfortable. You silently stare out the window into the vast forest that surrounds you.

   You see why Slender put the mansion in the middle of a forest. Even if most of the inhabitants are stuck there, at least they have a beautiful view. You're torn away from your fixation on the forest by the revving of the ignition. You steal a glance at Hoodie, then relax into the questionably stained seat of the van. 

   The car ride was full of you seeing Hoodie become more, how do I put it, talkative? Yeah, he told you a lot about his past, you knew some if it, but not all of it. You feel honored to have this information and trust. So, its only fair you tell him your story as well right? You told him everything, everything from the nitty-gritty, to your favorite memories with friends. Mini road trips are magical. 

    Hoodie pulls into a rocky drive way at an unknown l youocation. The little GPS on his phine still showes about a five minute walk to the destination. He takes his phone, turns it off, and slips on his ski mask. He glances over at you, you are spacing out at the forest in front of you. "You okay?" His voice cuts through the air like a knife. You blink a few times, trying to get your train of thought back on track. "Yeah, I'm good, I just spaced out," You explain sheepishly.

   Hoodie nods understandingly. You both hop out if the car parked in the dense forest area, and make your way to the victim's house. "So, what's the sitch Hoods?" You ask, not knowing the plan because you and Hoodie forgot to talk  about it on the way there. But it was worth it. 

   "A woman by the name of Annie Butler has been sticking her nose where it doesn't belong. She's finding out way too much. So, we have to take some files of hers then kill her." You nod, hyping yourself up to do this. Admittedly, you are a bit anxious, but that won't stop you from gaining more of Hoodie's trust and respect. 

   You are hoping you don't fuck this up big time. You cant lose the bond that you and Hoodie have, it's way to important to you. You give a gentle sigh and keep walking with Hoodie.

  Eventually, you arrive at the house of the person of interest. The house is white and the trim is a robins egg blue. It looks like the house of the traditional nuclear family, but with a bit more, suspicion. You start walking towards the house through the drive way before Hoodie grabs your arm.

   "We gotta go around back to break in, she'll see us comming up the driveway." He informs, you blush, embarrassed about not thinking about that.  You follow Hoodie around to the back of the house. Annie has a very nice white patio with a glass table and five black metal chairs with white cushons on top. She has a medium sized firepit adjacent to the patio near the backdoor. 

   "I think we should sneak in through that window." You say, pointing to the window next to the patio. Hoodie nods and you both start to walk over to the window. Once you reach the window, you slide up the protective  screen and pull up the window.

   Luckily, this lady is dumb enough to leave her windows unlocked. You set your butt on the windowsill and stick one leg in, then your torso, then the other. Hoodie follows in suit as you stand in the garage. You see the door that leads from the garage to the house and go to open it. Unfortunately, this lady is smart enough to lock the doors.

   "What dumbass doesn't lock their windows, but locks their doors?" You say, Hoodie chuckles softly at your jab. You smile and fish around in your pocket, you grasp the cold metal and pull out a bobbypin. You pick at the lock for a while before hearing a small 'click'. You try the handle again and the door opens this time. 

   You and Hoodie both sneak into the house, you do not see Annie yet. "I'm going to go check the kitchen, you check the living room," You give Hoodie a thimbs up and tou both ho your separate ways. You silently pad over to the doorway leading into the living room and peak inside. 

   The living room walls are painted a light grey. There is a black couch on one side of the wall, and a flat screen t.v on the other. In the corner between the couch and the wall is a house plant in a modern, porcelain plant pot. Above the couch sat a few picture frames with pictures of what looks to be Annie and her family. You give a slight smile, she looks so happy in the photos. You see no sign of Annie.

   You meet Hoodie at the foot of a stairwell. It probably leads up to her room. "This stairwell leads up to Annie's room," called it. You and Hoodie walk up the steps, being as quiet as humanly possible. You both see two doors "Her door is the left one" Hoodie states nonchalantly. You silently step towards the eggshell white door. You take a deep breath, and roughly shove the door open. Bat in hand, you speedwalk into the room, Hoodie right behind you. 

   You see Annie sitting at a desk with a monitor on it. She flinches into her chair and whips her head at you and Hoodie. "W-who are you, and what are you doung in my house?" Annie gets up from her chair and stumbles backwards a bit. "You know too much, we can't have that, we know what you know." Hoodie states reaching for the handgun in his hoodie pocket. 

   "S-STAY BACK", Annie shouts, pulling a meat cleaver from under her pillow. You chuckle lowly, "Do you really think we're afraid of you, Annie?" You seer, she gives you a look of shock and horror. "How do you know my name?" She questions, you laugh in her face. "Oh dear Annie, we know every little thing about you~" you laugh and step towards her menacingly. She stumbles backwards and falls on her butt, she scoots as far away from you until her back hits her bed. 

   You tilt your head to the right, signaling Hoodie to go get her files. You slowly and menacingly step towards Annie, every step you take your bat hits the floor with a solid 'thunk'. Your standing toe to toe with Annie's shaking form, you raise your bat. "P-please don't." She whimpers, her arms blocking her face. You chuckle and get ready to swing the bat.

   "Too late, sweetheart." You say as you bring the bat down as hard as you can onto her head. Blood spews all over everything. Annie lets out a scream as you bring down your bat once more on her head. She lets out a gurgle as blood drips down from her bashed in skull, out her nose, and her mouth. Hit her with your bat right in her temple to make sure she's dead. Once you know she's dead, you lean on your bat, and try to wipe spewed blood off your s/t face. 

   "You got the files?" You turn to Hoodie, he holds up a thick manilla folder. "Ok, let's go." You say, as you start to navigate to the front door, Hoodie follows in suit. You both find your way out of the house, and take a trail through the forest to get to the van, so you won't get noticed. You finally get to the dirty white van and you hop into yhe passenger side. 

   Almost as soon as you both get on the road, you pass out. Who knew bludgeoning someone to death with a bat could knock the energy out of you. When Hoodie sees you passed out, he smiles and chuckles softly. It's normal for a new proxy to clonk out after their first mission. 

   Once you and Hoodie got home, it was about 5:30 pm (17:30). Hoodie gently shakes you awake. "Y/n, you gotta get up, we're home now." He whispers gently to your sleeping form. You stir and slightly open your eyes, you blink and sit up straight. You yawn and stretch a bit. "How long was I out for?" "About 45 minutes." Hoodie informs, you nod, grabing your bat and getting out of the van. 

   You and Hoodie proceed to walk back to the mansion. "Hey kid, you did a great job today, I'm proud of you." You smile, still sleepy and out of it. "Thanks dad." Hoodie stops in his tracks, you turn back and let what you said sink in. "UH, I meant thanks Hoods, eheheh." You say and speedwalk as fast as you can to the mansion. 

  As soon as you enter the mansion you haul ass to your room. You shut the door and run into your bathroom. You sit in the toilet seat, trying not to hyperventilate as you flip your shit. You just called Hoodie dad, you're royaly fucked. You start toncry a little before you hear a knock on your door. You stop everything you're doing.

   "Y/n, please come out, I need to talk to you." You jear Hoodie's soft voice call from your door. You sigh, fuck it. You get up and trudge to the door. Your shaking hand grips the knob and turns it slowly. Your door creaks open to reveal Hoodie. "I'm so sorry for what I said I didn't mean to say  it out loud I don't want you to think of me any less and I would like to forget this ever happened." You spew out, flinching back when you're finished. Hoodie frowns underneath his mask and puts a hand on your tense shoulder. 

   "It's ok Y/n, I never knew you thought of me that way, but, It's okay." He almost whispers. You start to shake again, Hoodie sees this and engulfs you in a hug. He gently rocks you back and forth as you let out muffled sobs of shame. "It's okay honey I'm here, I'm here." 

   "Love is just a history that they may prove, and when you're gone, I'll tell them my religions"

[llawlietofficial]

my stream of consciousness during death note (2017)

So I finally watched this shit show last night, and kept a running document of every thought I had in order. Here are some of the top ones: (under the cut because....it gets a little long. it’s worth it though!) 

okay so first of all what the fuck is this opening song. 

LOSER LIGHT GETS PAID TO DO PEOPLES HOMEWOEK. 

Wow I wish I was as cool as goth head cheerleader Misa Mia

Ooh look at that chemistry

Light looks like a failed wannabe white guy kpop star

Someone gif those opening "death note" letters please

What's with the fucking illuminati symbols on the book ??

Rain makes everything more symbolic I can't believe the creativity of their choices

Aw he's seeing a girl get bullied OF COURSE that's motivation enough to kill

I can't believe Light is a feminist icon stepping in to save Misa Mia like that.

Oh god his whole speech about “technically you bullying me is child abuse” needs to be a copypasta. Someone needs to slap that kid.

SOMEONE JUST SLAPPED THAT KID.

Why does his voice sound like that

Why does his face look like that

Why does he have frosted tips

I can't believe Light is the loser loner pining after the head cheerleader with a girlfriend.

Light is ?? A troublemaker ???

Why is the death note so crusty looking

Marbles.

LIGHT'S SCREAMS MAKE ME SCREAM I want that as my ringtone

"Shall we begin." Wow I love Star Trek Into Darkness.

"Some 8 foot tall demon looking motherfucker" is honestly the best possible description of Ryuk so at least they got that one right.

RIP Light's first victim, Kenny Doyle. You will be missed. 

This Bitch chooses one of the most violent possible deaths for his first victim ???? But canon light didn't like. Start out wanting to cause his victims physical pain. He's not a sadist he's a moral janitor. 

CANON LIGHT WOULD HAVE THOUGHT CHEATING WAS A BIG DEAL !! HE WOULD HAVE KILLED PEOPLE LIKE HIMSELF !!

Oh my god he's so angsty just get a fucking diary.....wait...

Wow I love blatant exposition dropping. I wonder how many times him and his dad have had that exact same conversation over dinner conveniently explained Light's tragic backstory. 

Because this is America. You can't kill people without a tragic backstory (if you're white)

Is he going to scream like that every time Ryuk shows up?

"Your fingers are huge." Hmm? Why do you care about that, Light? Unless you have something you want to share with the class? 

I can't believe they changed Ryuk's motivation that's like everything about him as a character. He didn’t say he was bored like, a single time in this whole series what’s the point. 

He has a whole file on his tragic backstory that he keeps laying around in his room this is next level bullshit.

JESUS FUCKINF CHRIST LIGHT WHAT HAPPENED TO SIMPLE HEART ATTACKS

He. Impaled himself. On a steak knife.

Light's mom was a hippie !!!!!

I can't believe Light's motivation is "karma's a bitch" what an icon. 

I can't believe Misa Mia’s turned on by murder.

Actually. I can believe that.

Light's just. Carrying around the death note right in the open.

"I can't tell you” *brief pause* “so you really want to know?" BITCH YOU EIDN'T EVEN LET HER ANSWER. SHE SEEMED SO UNINTERESTED ANYWAY. WHY DO YOU HAVE THIS COMPULSIVE NEED TO CONFESS THAT YOU’RE A MURDERER! 

LIght wants pussy that bad.

"Your poetry sucks" okay I actually kind of like that line, Misa Mia’s a snarky bitch like she deserves to be. 

She looks bored. Light she doesn't want part of your murder fest !! you don't have to confess so often !! 

as soon as the police swat car hit that guy my friend turned to me and said "when you're a police officer but still text and drive"

Ooh blurry lights that's an edgy cinnamon topography choice.

I don’t like how everyone in this movie is all mumbling.

How many people are going to make mood boards out of the scene where Light and Misa Mia are leaning against that neon sign???

"Do you think I'm crazy?" "If anything I think you're not crazy enough" wow I love the joker and harley quinn!! normal is just a setting on the dryer~~~ rawr

TEHY'RE POST MURDER FUCKING

I said out loud "I can't believe they're going to post murder fuck" and my friend said "But you'd think that was kinky in high school" and i said "hell I think that's kinky now" why am i like this

I can't believe this whole murder fuck montage. They're so cute and in love. My friend just said “relationship goals” and i want to turn off this movie.

Is that Beastly in their school library????

"What they want is a god." 

Okay actually I can see Light getting off on talking about he's a god while fucking. I've read enough fanfiction to prepare me for that scene.

Why does he look like that??

I just love that "Kira saves" graffiti

Why did Kira kill 11 people in a nightclub what did they do ? so serial cheating for money is okay but getting drunk and having sex isn’t?? alright Light. 

L looks like a serial killer with the mask and the hoodie and the dead bodies and I’m.......not loving the look

WATARI ISN'T EVEN JAPANESE. THAT'S NOT EVEN HIS NAME. WHY IS THE ONLY JAPANESE ACTOR THE ONLY CHARACTER CANONICALLY NOT JAPANESE. 

I appreciate his continued sweets addiction though. He is. The only good thing in this movie.

Is he singing wizard of oz what the fu k is happening in this movie

Why do they all talk so quiet

the most inaccurate thing that’s happened so far is actually L taking a nap

Could Light act....a little LESS blatantly on Kira's side????

Detective James Turner.

Honestly this movie is just......boring.

I feel like the voices are at a much lower volume than the music and it’s just...bad

How does he know Kira's in Seattle ??? Is this explained or did I just miss it ???

"What would you do if some guy fucked me?" "I’d kill him." Wow I love this scene in Baby Driver.

I want that furniture. 

Oh I get it. His voice is muffled because of that fucking face mask. 

"Rest your glutes" 

All the things they could have kept and they kept L and Watari giving Light's dad ice cream?

Okay we see Light and Misa at school all the time, but are they ever ??? In class ??

OF COURSE L IMMEDIATELY GOES ON NATIONAL TV

L in a big black hoodie with the big American flag waving in the background is exactly what I expected out of this adaptation.

Light telling Ryuk to shut the fuck up is something I imagined hundreds of times in the anime but never thought I would be lucky enough to see on screen. 

"Besides I think you can tell when you're sitting across from a killer like Kira." HAHAHAHAHA WOW I LOVE THIS DRAMATIC IRONY !!

Light is smart. We know this because we keep saying how smart he is. It doesn’t matter that he’s not making any smart decisions. We said he’s smart so he is. 

I can't believe it's dark outside and they're both wearing sunglasses. You know who wears sunglasses indoors? Douche bags. And blind people.

Ooh Misa Mia doesn't want to pop popcorn and murder a few people there's gotta be trouble in Hollywood romance paradise

I hate the music choices in this movie. a lot. 

"There are no sides. Only the game.” what. 

I can believe Misa Mia’s casually watching torture porn on tv

WHY IS LIGHT'S DAD BASICALLY COMMITTING SUICIDE BY ANNOUNCINF HIS NAME AND HAVINF A PRESS CONFERENCE AND WHY DOES HIS VOICE SOUND LIKE THAT. there's a difference between not being afraid and being a fucking idiot !!! 

I can't believe Light just admitted to not being the good guys anymore.

I CAN'T BELIEVE MISA MIA IS LIGHT ???

Light needs to put his dick away. He really needs to put his dick away.

The cafe scene is really aesthetically pleasing and I hate it. 

"I don't do check, Light, only checkmate" FUUUUCK. 

IS THIS HOe FUXKING ADMITTING ?? THIS DUMB HOE IS ADMITTING TO BEING A SERIAL MURDERER AND ASKING L TO JOIN HIM THIS IS. A SHITTY FANFICTION. WHY IS HE SO DUMB. WHY DOES HE CONFESS TO WVERYONE HE TALKS TO.

Is Light going to get back with her just because she said I love you  ?? LIGHT SHE TRIED TO KILL UR DAD respect yourself !! 

Watari isn't his real name ????  Also what's the point leaving him alive? Free ice cream? Jesus light.

Why do they say Kira with the accent if it's not Japanese ?

L is.....coming slightly unhinged.....he seems.... to have a lot more anger issues that he needs to work through.

LIGHT IN A TOP HAT. I can't believe they're going to this dance. 

I just said "At a certain point it's not even entertaining anymore. It's just pathetic." and my friend, who is now drunk, said "I'm still pretty entertained but maybe it's because I'm drunk."

I can't believe L grew up in that creepy ass murder shack. 

Actually. I can believe L grew up in that creepy ass murder shack. Also I saw the illuminati symbol like five times in that house so what's the truth????

HE DOES HAVE A NORMAL PEOPLE SCARE ME STICKER IN HIS LOCKER I THOUGHT THAT WAS AN EDIT.

Lmao I can't believe Misa Mia was the real mastermind the whole time. "You don't get to feel morally superior for being a pussy." OH SHIT. Oh my fuckin god he fuckin dead.

also L needs to calm the fuck down. Do they not teach you how to drive in the orphanage?

I don't know just what happened with that store owner attacking the armed black man assaulting the teenager in an alley way but it felt racist.

Light is desperate and pathetic. Has he made....a single smart decision?

"JESUS TAKE THE FERRIS WHEEL!!! TAKE IT FROM MY HAND !!!"

Chicago's I Don't Wanna Live Without Your Love? Are you fucking kidding me?

At least Misa Mia died how she lived. Aesthetically pleasing. 

What the fuck is even happening in this movie. HE CONFESSED TO HIS DAD TOO. 

"I thought I was going to kill all the bad guys and re good guys would win but it wasn't like that" OH LOOK !! CONVENIENTLY A MORAL !!

and in the end, the white loner character who develops a god complex and goes on a murderous rampage killing hundreds of people and declaring himself god.....gets away with it......but at least he learned a valuable lesson about the nature of good and evil !!!! 

anyway those are my thoughts I hope you liked them !!

[mbtizone]

Randy Meeks (Scream): ENTP

Dominant Extroverted Intuition [Ne]: During the killing sprees in Woodsboro and at Windsor College, Randy enjoys theorizing about potential suspects. He was suspicious of Billy from the very beginning and turned out to be right. When the killings at Windsor College began, he remained open to all possibilities and was able to give reasons as to why each person he mentioned could make a good suspect. Maybe Billy tried to kill Sidney because she wouldn’t sleep with him. Gale could be responsible for the murders. She’s an opportunist, so maybe she’s trying to stage the news. He prefers discussing the most interesting suspect and not necessarily the most practical on. Randy’s ideas come from movies he’s watched and he draws conclusions based on what he’s already seen. Randy values novelty and tells the killer terrorizing his college that “Billy and Stu were much more original.” He values innovation and what hasn’t been done a thousand times.

Auxiliary Introverted Thinking [Ti]: Randy is good at coming to logical conclusions. There’s a very simple formula to this stuff. Randy has thought of everything and takes his system for surviving a real-life horror movie very seriously, even though others openly mock it. Randy is quick to point out Stu’s history with Casey as a potential motive. During the tape he records, he says if his friends find it, it means he’s dead, which is obviously because he lost his virginity. Facts don’t phase Randy. When Dewey rejects Randy for suggesting Hallie as a possible suspect because serial killers are typically white males, he thinks that’s why she’d be a great suspect! When Dewey thinks that it doesn’t make sense that the killer is trying to repeat Woodsboro because he attacked Sidney, and Sidney wasn’t killed there, Randy concludes that they’re trying to finish what Billy and Stu started.

Tertiary Extroverted Feeling [Fe]: Although it’s common knowledge that Randy has feelings for Sidney, he never actually discusses them with her. Randy enjoys playing on his friend’s feelings for his own amusement, such as telling Tatum that Casey was the one who dumped Stu (which Stu denies). Randy can sometimes be a little oblivious to other people’s feelings (such as making jokes about the murders in front of Sidney, who was clearly very disturbed by it). He also tries to relate to Dewey about their shared unrequited loves. Randy often displays good insight into people. He can clearly see that Billy has the potential to be a murderer.

Inferior Introverted Sensing [Si]: The “rules” of horror movies are gospel. Randy has committed every horror movie cliché to memory and uses them as his guide. He takes them very seriously, while his friends poke fun at them. You can’t have sex. You should never say “I’ll be right back.” There’s always more blood and more gore in the second. In the third one, all bets are off. Even Sidney is expendable. Although Randy pays a lot of attention to these standards, he enjoys when things aren’t predictable. Even though the signs are there, Randy initially denies that there’s another serial killer after them. During a phone call, Randy scathingly berates the killer for their lack of originality. He also has a very good memory when it comes to movies and can recite many lines word-for-word.

Enneagram: 5w6 Sp/Sx

Quotes:

Tatum: Hunt? Why would they ask if you like to hunt? Randy: Because their bodies were gutted. [Sidney flinches.] Billy: Thanks, Randy. Tatum: They didn’t ask me if I like to hunt. Stu: That’s cause there’s no way a girl could have killed them. Tatum: That is so sexist. The killer could easily be female – Basic Instinct. Randy: That was an ice pick-not exactly the same. Stu: Yeah, Casey and Steve were completely hollowed out. And the fact is, it takes a man to do something like that. Tatum: Or a man’s mentality. Sidney: How do you gut someone? Stu: You take a knife and you slit ’em from groin to sternum. Billy: Hey. It’s called tact, you fuckrag.

Sidney: Hey, Stu? Didn’t you use to date Casey? Stu: For about two seconds. Randy: Before she dumped him for Steve. Tatum: I thought you dumped her for me. Stu: I did. He’s full of shit. Randy: And are the police aware you dated the victim? Stu: What are you saying? That I killed ’em? Randy: It would certainly improve your high school Q. Tatum: Stu was with me last night. Randy: Was that before or after he sliced and diced? Tatum: Fuck you, nut case. Where were you last night? Randy: Working, thank you. Tatum: Oh, at the video store? I thought they fired your sorry ass. Randy: Twice. Stu: I didn’t kill anybody. Billy: Nobody said you did. Randy: Besides – it takes a man to do something like that. Stu: Yo, I’m gonna gut your ass in a second, kid. Randy: Did you really put her liver in the mailbox? Because I heard that they found her liver in the mailbox, right next to her spleen and her pancreas. Tatum: Randy, you goon-fuck. We’re trying to eat here. Stu: Yeah, Randy, she’s getting mad. You better liver alone.

Randy: Now that’s in poor taste. Stu: What? Randy: If you were the only suspect in a senseless blood bath – would you be standing in the horror section? Stu: It was just a misunderstanding. He didn’t do anything. Randy: You’re such a little lapdog. He’s got “killer” printed all over his forehead. Stu: Really? Then why’d the cops let him go, smart guy? Randy: Cause obviously they don’t want enough movies. This is standard horror movie stuff. Prom Night revisited, man. Stu: Why would he want to kill his own girlfriend? Randy: There’s always some stupid bullshit reason to kill your girlfriend. That’s the beauty of it all. Simplicity. Besides, if it gets too complicated, you lose your target audience. Stu: Well, what’s his reason? Randy: Maybe Sidney wouldn’t have sex with him. Stu: What, she’s saving herself for you? Randy: Maybe. Now that Billy tried to mutilate her, do you think Sid would go out with me? Stu: No. I don’t. At all. No. You know who I think it is? I think it’s her father. I mean, why can’t they find her pops, man? Randy: Because he’s probably dead! His body will come popping up in the last reel somewhere! Eyes gouged out! Fingers cut off! Teeth knocked out! See, the police are always off track with this shit. If they’d watch Prom Night they’d save time. There’s a formula to it! A very simple formula! Everybody’s a suspect! I’m telling you, the dad’s a red herring. It’s Billy.

Randy: There are certain rules that one must abide by in order to successfully survive a horror movie. For instance, number one: you can never have sex. [crowd boos] Stu: I’m a dead man. Randy: BIG NO NO! BIG NO NO! Sex equals death, okay? Number two: you can never drink or do drugs. [crowd cheers and raises their bottles] Randy: The sin factor! It’s a sin. It’s an extension of number one. And number three: never, ever, ever under any circumstances say, “I’ll be right back.” Because you won’t be back. Stu: I’m gettin’ another beer, you want one? Randy: Yeah, sure. Stu: I’ll be right back. Randy: See, you push the laws and you end up dead. Okay, I’ll see you in the kitchen with a knife.

Film Teacher: You could say that what happened in that theatre was a direct result of the movie itself. Cici: That is so Moral Majority. You can’t blame real life violence on entertainment. Film Class Guy #1: Yes you can. Don’t you ever watch the news? Film Class Guy #2: Hello? The murderer was wearing a ghost mask just like in the movie. It’s directly responsible. Cici: No, it’s not. Movies are not responsible for our actions. Mickey: Its a classic case of life, imitating art, imitating life. Film Class Mopey Girl: Its not hypothetical, it’s not about art. I had biology with that girl. This is reality. Randy: Thank you. I agree with you. Let me tell you about reality, Mickey. I lived through this, okay? Life is life. It doesn’t imitate anything. Mickey: Oh come on Randy. With all due respect, the killer obviously patterned himself after two serial killers who were immortalized on film. Film Class Guy #2: Thank you! Film Teacher: So, you’re suggesting that someone is trying to make a real life sequel? Randy: Stab 2? Who would wanna do that? Sequels suck! Oh please, please! By definition alone, sequels are inferior films! Mickey: It’s bullshit generalization. Many sequels have surpassed their originals. Randy: Oh yeah? Cici: Name one. Film Class Guy #1: Aliens. Far better than the first. Cici: Yeah, well, there’s no accounting for taste. Randy: Thank you. Ridley Scott Rules. Name another. Film Class Guy #2: No way. Aliens is a classic. “Get away from her, you bitch!” Randy: I believe the line is “Stay away from her, you bitch.” This is a film class right? Film Class Guy #2: Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You know what I mean.

Sidney: 300 people watched. Nobody did anything. They thought it was a publicity for Christ sakes. Randy: [Speaking in a British accent] And it would have been a good one too. Sidney: It’s starting again, Randy. Randy: It’s not. A lot of shit happens at the movies. People get robbed, shot, maimed, murdered. Multiplexes are very dangerous places to be these days. Sidney: Yeah, and you are in extreme denial. Randy: You should be too. This has nothing to do with us. Sidney: Randy! A guy in a ghost mask hacked up two people in a movie theater telling our life story. Randy: Coincidence? Sidney: You know what happened at Woodsboro, Randy. You can’t ignore it. Randy: I know, Sid, and I don’t want to go back there again. Can’t we just go back to our pseudo-quasi happy existence?

Randy: [Gale, Sidney and Randy are looking at Billy’s body] Careful. This is the moment when the supposedly dead killer comes back to life, for one last scare.

Randy: The way I see it, someone’s out to make a sequel. You know, cash in on all the movie murder hoopla. So it’s our job to observe the rules of the sequel. Number one: The body count is always bigger. Two: The death scenes are always much more elaborate; more blood, more gore. Carnage candy. Your core audience just expects it. And three: If you want your sequel to become a franchise, never ever- Dewey: How do we find the killer, Randy? That’s what I wanna know. Randy: Oh. Let’s look at the suspects. There’s Derek, the obvious boyfriend. Hello, Billy Loomis. The guy’s premed, and his pity-me surface wound conveniently missed every major vein and artery. Dewey: So you think it’s Derek? Randy: Not so fast. Let’s assume the killer, or ‘ers, has a half a brain. He’s not a Nick-at-Night rerun type of guy. He wants to break some new ground. Right? So forget the boyfriend. It’s tired. Who else do we got? Dewey: There’s- Randy: Mickey! The freaky Tarantino film student. But if he’s a suspect, so am I. So, let’s move on. Dewey: Whoa, wait a minute. Let’s not move on. Maybe you are a suspect. Randy: Well, if I’m a suspect, you’re a suspect. Dewey: You have a point. Okay, let’s move on to- Randy: Hallie. Dewey: Sid’s roommate? Randy: Uh-huh. Dewey: Serial killers are typically white males. Randy: That’s why it’s perfect. It’s sort of against the rules, but not really. Mrs. Voorhees was a terrific serial killer. And there’s always room for Candyman’s daughter. She’s sweet. She’s deadly. She’s bad for your teeth. Dewey: Come on, Randy. These kids are your friends. Who do you think’s the killer? Randy: How about Gale Weathers? Dewey: Gale? A killer? Randy: Why not? Dewey: Well, she is vicious enough. Randy: She’s an opportunist. Dewey: Yeah. Randy: Isn’t it conceivable she’s planning her next book? That’s what reporters do, Dewey. They stage the news. Dewey: No. Gale’s a lot of things, but Gale’s not a killer. Randy: Just because you’re sweet on her- Dewey: No, I’m not. Randy: Please, this is me talking. Randy, the unrequited love-slave of Sidney Prescott. I know all about obsession… and pain. Dewey: You’ve got your love scar to prove it. Randy: And so do you. And what’s with that limp anyway, ’cause you were stabbed in the back. Dewey: Severed nerve. Look, Gale’s no killer. Randy: Okay, okay. Whatever you say. But if she’s not a killer, she’s a target.

Gale: All right. Let’s just assume the killer is repeating Woodsboro- [cell phone starts to ring] Yes? Caller: I have Bob calling. Gale: I’ll have to call you back. Dewey: That doesn’t explain Sidney’s attack. Sidney wasn’t killed in Woodsboro. Randy: Wasn’t for a lack of trying. The killer’s trying to finish what was started.

Randy: Is that the best you can do? Because Billy and Stu were much more original.

Randy: Where’s your innovation? Why copycat two high school loser-ass dickheads? Stu was a pussy-ass wet rag. And Billy Loomis- Billy Loomis! What the fuck! Jesus! What a rat-lookin’, homo-repressed mama’s boy! Why not set your goals higher, huh? You wanna be one of the big boys? Huh? Manson, Bundy, O.J., Son-

Randy: Told ya I’d make a movie someday, huh? Sidney: Oh my god. Randy: Well, if you’re watching this tape, it means as I feared. I did not survive these killings here at Windsor College. And that giving up my virginity to Karen Kolchec at the video store was probably not a good idea. Dewey: Karen Kolchec? Randy: Yes, Karen Kolchec. Dewey: Creepy Karen? Randy: Shut up. She’s a sweet person, okay? We were working late. We were putting away some videos in the porno section and ya know, shit happens. Paul: [Knocking in background] Open the door Randy. Randy: Fifteen minutes. Paul: It’s my room, too. Randy: Paul, 15 minutes. I’m leaving my legacy. [knocking continues] Randy: Fifteen minutes Paul! Damn! Anyway, the reason I am here is to help you so that my death will not be in vain; That my life’s work will save some other poor soul from getting mutilated. If this killer does come back and he’s for real, there are a few things that you gotta remember. Is this simply another sequel? Well if it is, same rules apply. But-here’s the critical thing-if you find yourself dealing with an unexpected back story and a preponderance of exposition, then the sequel rules DO NOT apply. Because you are not dealing with a sequel, you are dealing with the concluding chapter of a trilogy. Dewey: Trilogy? Randy: That’s right, it’s a rarity in the horror field but it does exist, and it is a force to be reckoned with. Because true trilogies are all about going back to the beginning and discovering something that wasn’t true from the get go. Godfather, Jedi, all revealed something that we thought was true that wasn’t true. So if it is a trilogy you are dealing with, here are some super trilogy rules: 1. You got a killer who’s going to be super human. Stabbing him won’t work. Shooting him won’t work. Basically in the third one you gotta cryogenically freeze his head, decapitate him, or blow him up. 2. Anyone including the main character can die. This means you, Sid. I’m sorry. It’s the final chapter. It could be fucking ‘Reservoir Dogs’ by the time this thing is through. Number 3. The past will come back to bite you in the ass. Whatever you think you know about the past, forget it. The past is not at rest. Any sins you think were committed in the past are about to break out and destroy you. So in closing, let me say good luck, god speed, and for some of you, I’ll see you soon. ‘Cause the rules say some of you ain’t gonna make it. I didn’t. Not if you’re watching this tape.

Randy Meeks (Scream): ENTP was originally published on MBTI Zone

[foodnfics4evr18]

Long rant about homosexuality!

TBH i personally think that there is no difference between terrorists and homophobics. I mean, both people think it's fine and is even the right thing to do to call a person out and start insulting and hurting them verbally and physically for THEIR OWN PERSONAL PREFERENCE!! both people use a mask of religious beliefs as a right to insult people. Both people think it is somehow their right to judge people based on their choices! Both people think they are anointed and chosen to "guide people to the light". Both people are self-righteous bastards who believe that they are sinless once they see a person who doesn't agree with them.

Religious Terrorists: all those who don't believe in our god and book are sinners who need to either be cleansed or fucking SHOT DOWN. We are gloriously chosen to guide them. There is only our book.

Homophobics: all those who don't like the opposite sex are going against what God said. They are sinners and it is our duty to guide them to the light and show them what God has said. It was adam and Eve not adam and steve.

So for all homophobic people, get your head out of your ass and start understanding that no matter what a person's sexuality is, it isn't your fucking job or right to help them, because guess what? if you go around judging people and thinking that you have any right to say they are 'sick' and 'need help', then YOU ARE THE PSYCHOTIC BITCH WHO IS NEED OF TREATMENT BECAUSE THEY THINK THEY ARE THE LIGHT TO SHOW MANKIND THE WAY.

By the way, i asked a nun if the bible truly refused homosexuality. She first reminded me that in the old Testament God did burn cities because they had become incurable sinners and one of their MANY SINS was laying with the same sex. But then she proceeded to tell me that God loved us so much that he had given his only son for us. And since he is God, he would never punish or degrade a homosexual person, because he loves us the way we are. And as long as whatever different about us doesn't hurt us or others, then he would never judge us for it. God would always accept us just the way we are, because he knows that an lgbt person is a just another one of his human beings. There is nothing wrong with homosexuality, because that is a person's choice, and God would always respect that. He only starts objecting when a person's choice is to do drugs or become a serial killer. Because THAT is a choice that would hurt the person and possibly the people around them, not marrying a person of the same sex and loving them. Because LOVE is above all sins.

And you can't fight me on this.

And btw, I'm a straight girl, so I'm not biased.