#something you struggled so hard with for a long time suddenly just snaps into place

[mrtheinsatiable]

Starting to realize I've been unnecessarily resistant to a lot of ideas because I was just looking at them from an angle I didn't like

The idea of a "purpose driven life" is one of those things. The whole "I was Created for a Purpose" thing didn't vibe with me and also kind of pissed me off and that was pretty much the only context I had for the idea for a long time. And even the more secular version where I create my own purpose didn't work either because I've never felt like I had any particular calling or thing I Have to Do. It also feels dehumanizing to think of it that way, to a certain extent, to have a specific purpose or use like a tool or an object.

But actually a purpose driven life doesn't have to mean Having a Purpose it can just be "doing things on purpose." Life becomes a lot easier and also more fulfilling when you act with intent instead of just letting yourself loose in the day. It's hard to get your shit together when you're winging every second. A sense of purpose doesn't actually need to be deeper than that, I think, to positively influence your life

[harmonysanreads]

just a thought but smth LAUGHABLY funny is a very bitter neuvillette. since he’s in a very high position of power, his words might even be law itself atp, so imagine him as your loser bitter ex.

trying to execute this can be silly—bc who’s willing to go that far to spite someone’s ex? neuvillette probably would. bc you see: he cherished you so much. he was willing to grovel for you, disregarding his status and his character. you’ve seen it all, him breaking his cold mask. beneath it all, is just a very clingy and obsessive man. so once you left under the pretences of him being “too overbearing, it was suffocating you,” he let it go quite well. you thought he’d argue with you on it (as he would usually do) and even forbid you from leaving. but nay, you left him the next day with his head hung low and a look of defeat shadowing his face. it felt like mutual acceptance for both parts, it was hard of course, but at least you were glad neuvillette didn’t react harshly against you.

give it a month, not too long, until you realise that you’ve been laid off. quite harshly. you had a pretty stable job with good income. suddenly your boss sends you a letter one day out of the blue. your boss says you’ve been fired. why? you asked. didn’t say much. ok, maybe it’s time to go find another job. you do, only to end up being turned away from every single one you’ve applied to. have you been blacklisted? what did you do exactly for the entirety of fontaine to completely shun you away?

you’re low-key struggling with your income. the place you were staying at, you’re on the verge of being kicked out because you’re behind payments. you might as well flee this city altogether, but you really don’t want to give up since you’ve lived your whole life here. you keep on pursuing, finding any place willing to take you in. unsurprisingly, you’ve met a dead end. you’re teetering the edge of snapping so you wonder, has it something to do with your records? because as far as you know, you once had a good job that you got all by yourself due to you track record and lists of achievements. not a single blemish, you think, is on your track record. you were once well respected and regarded by peers and acquaintances alike, but now? you are nothing but a mere ghost to them, completely forgotten. so after much contemplation, you’re seizing to get your hands on your papers and records. were you that unqualified?

until one day, your questions were answered. there was a loud knock coming from your door. it was your last week living at your house, so when you opened the door to welcome the government officials at your doorsteps, they eyed boxes behind you. the space behind you was barren and it did not feel like a home anymore. there’s a sullen look on your face, so with a sympathetic sigh the man in front of you stated his reason for coming here. “we have a warrant out for your arrest.”

it rushes out like a wave that smothers you. a warrant? you haven’t done anything unlawful, you’re sure of it. but now as you bask in this dreadful situation, is that why your life has slowly fallen apart? there’s no way, no way that’s true. what crime did you commit? did you do something awfully criminal or something completely small that the laws of fontaine has harshly persecuted you for? fontaine has always been strict in that regard. “what for?” you ask, it sounded like you had an entire list of crimes you were hiding, yet you had a look of genuine surprise and confusion. “multiple, actually.” the man responds. ok, now this is getting really weird. he asks if you’re willing to come with them for questioning, maybe discuss about it more thoroughly, perhaps it can answer some of the questions frantically falling out of your mouth.

you come with them, under arrest currently, as they have you transported to some kind of holding room. you’re now scared shitless, wondering what possibly could you have done wrong. you’re praying to archons that this was all just a dream. you’re life was already going to shit, but now? you’ve completely reached your breaking point. all in a span of a few months where you were laid off without any explanation, blacklisted from every place apparently, and as of last week you were packing up your things to leave your home without even knowing where to go. now, you just found out you had not one, but MULTIPLE warrants. you started laughing, quite uncomfortably, at yourself the more you pondered. the echo of your lonely laughs laughed back at you as you stared across a wall as it all slowly melted into a choked sob. what were you going to do now?

before you could sit in silent reflection any longer, the door next to you creaked open. you turn to look at who it was, expecting to see an investigator or maybe even a lawyer, but your face fell the moment you saw who it was.

neuvillette. that bastard.

he enters and sits in front of you, with a proposition that makes your stomach twists and turn. he’s made your life a complete hell and now he saunters his power and hold against you, painting it as a guiding light. he said, he’d help you against your warrants. perhaps even help you reconvene your entire life that has been shattered. it sounds a little too good to be true and it was happening all to fast. your life fell apart the moment you left him. and now? you had a chance to pick it all back up. “so, what’s the catch?”

you really hated that look on his face when you asked. you only knew, you’d be trapped regardless of the choice you make wether to accept his offer or not.

(if i ever return in the future: can i be 🗽 anon?)

Just a thought???? 🗽anon THIS IS A FULL-COURSE MEAL, A BANQUET.

But what you despised more was how it made you feel, that curve of his lips was uncharacteristic— if you were being generous in your description— and malicious if you were not. It made you feel as though you were thrown into the ocean without any experience of swimming, it sent the twirling of your thoughts askew and the air stolen from your lungs.

“Why, you'll have to be mine again. No second chances, no excuses, no backing out.” Neuvillette shifts in his seat, inching just the right bit closer to your increasingly distressed form.

“...Of course, of course! Why didn't I think it sooner? This was all your doing, you were behind it all! You—” it took all your willpower to not take advantage of the distance and commit something that'd actually earn you a cell in Fontaine's jail, hand settling on jabbing a finger at the judge's chest to rid your rage even in the slight.

You're unsure of what your visage has contorted to, your restless eyes search his for a reflection, blurred emotions stare back at you. Your body trembles as the dots connect, a touch of silk transferred across your whole palm as it fists against his ribbon. For a moment, you vacillate between who to be angry at ; him, the corrupt world or you. If the universe had at least sent a sign a month prior, your litany of curses could've been directed at the culprit instead of your fate.

“I should've known you were up to something when you didn't retaliate, when you just let me go like that, I should've...I..”

At this instance, vehement words threaten to spill from your lips as well but a fraction of what remains of your sanity makes you hold your tongue as the gravity of your situation settles in, only a croaked why escaping past your throat. It must've been pitiful, because Neuvillette's smirk falters and straightens into a thin line. One gloved hand takes a tentative hold of your wrist still clinging to his clothes and you hate how familiar his touch feels.

“Do you wish to know why?”

The offer entices your head to rise again, you take a shaky inhale and the Chief Justice proceeds according to the cue.

“Because I love you.”

One of the lamps illuminating the room flickers off, that little sound bounces off of the walls and fills the deathly quiet momentarily. Fury turns to confusion and then disbelief. Your fingers slacken and this time, his hand tightens around your wrist.

“You're insane.”

Neuvillette's head tilts in inquisition, a wordless encouragement for you to continue.

“You abused your power, had me fired and blacklisted from all the working environments of Fontaine, soiled my reputation and attached false crimes to my name.. because you love me?”

Your free arm reaches for the judge's collar and yanks him closer, a grunt escapes him but he makes no further move and it unsettles you. For such an offensive action, you'd expected a nasty glare at the very least ; while that would've been scary, it'd still make more sense than the neutral expression on his fair face.

“Yes, is this not what is common? You told me yourself that you do everything within your power to hold onto the person you love.” his nonchalant answer has you let go of the fabric hastily, backing away as though you were faced with an alien instead of a man. Neuvillette never relinquishes his hold but a sigh does escape him at your behavior, a somewhat normal reaction at last.

“I once praised your stubbornness as your biggest strength but do you not see that at this moment, it's your greatest weakness? It's holding you back from rewinding everything.” the judge leans in and you lean away til your back hits the seat, he pins you by your wrist.

“I promise all will be resolved, no one in the entirety of this nation will utter a word about this, everyone will behave as though nothing happened, that this was just a tiny lovers' quarrel. All you have to do is say yes.” Neuvillette's white locks tickle your skin, his voice turns hushed in utmost secrecy and his breath fans the heat blossoming across your neck.

You want to push him away, you want to recoil from his proximity and you want the earth to split open and swallow you whole. His free hand takes your chin and forces you to face the tempest brewing in his eyes, the intensity pushes you to break and to comply — you don't want to comply or to say yes. Because you know what happens if you do, it's the exact suggestion he'd whispered before your engagement but it was different then. Back then, you'd known you could back out and that's why you'd been worriless. You could deny him now as per your sheer pertinacity as well, but Neuvillette makes it clear that all that'd do is making the path to the inevitable more painful.

After all, the waves never offer consolation to the ruined sand-castle, they only wait until they can destroy it again.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (19/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: There's so much going on in Charles' brain, but having to come clean with his feelings is the hardest.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of fingering, masturbating), angst, swear words, Lando being a little shit

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: sorry. and happy season finale. let’s hope for a better 2024.

Charles has never been so happy about a pot of plants. 

After you slammed the door in his face, he barely made it to the street before throwing up in the nearest plant pot. His fingers clawed around the hard ceramic edges as his body struggled against the nasty words he spat at you. 

He doesn't even know why he was so mean to you. 

Was it because you had a wonderful evening last night? Because you two got so close that you both almost kissed? Because you fell asleep next to each other and he slept incredibly well? Or because Lando texted him in the middle of the night and asked what your favorite food was so that he could do everything right on your date?

Maybe he does know why he was so mean to you. 

"Charles? Concentrate, please," he is snapped out of his thoughts and Charles sits up a little straighter in his chair. He can feel something crack in his spine.

The meeting has been going on for hours. So long, in fact, that the private chefs in Maranello have already had to bring food to the room four times, with the last meal being dinner. Charles has eaten so much pasta and bruschetta that he feels sick just looking at the leftovers on the table in front of him. And the water with the slice of lemon in the glass in front of him no longer tastes very refreshing.

No matter what he eats or drinks, he can't get rid of the disgusting taste in his mouth. 

He wonders if your "I hate you" is as heavy on your stomach as the nasty words are on his. He would love to take back everything he spat in your face. Turn back time and undo everything. But he can't do that. Unfortunately. 

He'd love to bang his head on the tabletop. 

In fact, he can barely remember what he said. It's as if his brain short circuited, has had some kind of blackout, or as if a bomb has gone off and wiped everything out. Which doesn't excuse any of it. But from your hurt look, the tears in your eyes and your venomous response, it was so unacceptable that he'd like to slap himself for it. 

It wasn't the first time Lando had asked Charles for dating help and they are actually such good friends that Charles has always been happy to help him. But the fact that the Brit asked for help so that he could take you out nicely - that doesn't sit right with him. Which is complete nonsense, because he has no reason to. He has no claim of ownership over you. And besides, he didn't want to kiss you in the bookstore. 

Although that's not entirely true either.

He did want to kiss you. Desperately. And you'd been so close all day, you'd shown him your favorite place and everything had pointed to you wanting to make the move to something more - and then you gave him that look when he asked you for a dance. And he can understand why you didn't want to. After all, it's your place, your favorite place, and never would Charles do anything to tarnish that place in any way. Create a memory that you would later regret. 

The Petit Mondes is your safe haven. And as much as Charles wants you - and he definitely does - he wouldn't cross that line.

Since you've known each other, Charles has had to fight every waking - and to be honest, every sleeping - moment not to jump you. He can't stop thinking about you standing in front of him half-naked in a towel. Or how you turned around just a few steps away from him before dinner with his friends to show him your outfit. How you slept next to him and dreamt - dreamt of him. A moment he will never forget. 

Although he is actually a late riser, Charles woke up early that morning. Not because he had slept in, but because he was warm. Contrary to his expectations, it wasn't because of the comforter or the heating, but because you were lying half on top of him. Your head was resting against his shirt-clad chest, one of your legs was draped over his hip, while your arm was wrapped around his middle. 

At first, he didn't understand what was going on at all. He wanted to lift his arm to rub the sleep from his eyes, but he was met with resistance in the form of a lightly clad, sleeping beauty. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand was a little too high on your ribs to pass for being friendly, and by God - he hadn't felt this comfortable in ages.

Feeling your closeness had triggered something in him that confused him, but at the same time made him incredibly relaxed. He had pulled you closer to him, pressed you against him and enjoyed your warmth. For a moment, he had even considered whether he should just pull you all over him so that he could be as close to you as possible. 

Before he could think about how wrong that would be and how many boundaries he would be crossing, you had turned in his arms so that your back was against his chest. Your body molded perfectly against his, your warmth engulfing him, but nothing could have prepared him for the fact that you were going to move your butt a little in his direction, right up against his crotch. 

Charles had been awake in a flash and while you continued to sleep soundly, all the blood from his brain had rushed to his dick. Embarrassed, he'd squinted and focused on something else - Ferrari strategies, Joris last Christmas with the Leclercs, anything - and had scooted back a few inches to stick his hand down his pants so he could fix his raging boner.

But alas, you'd followed him like a magnet, squirming against him like you knew exactly what you were doing, so that his cock was wedged between your ass cheeks. Your body had been so warm, so soft against his hard one, that he had to stifle a moan.

Something you hadn't been able to do. If you hadn't been so close to him, he would have missed your soft gasp of his name. That's when he blew a fuse.

He would have loved to wake you up with kisses along your neck, let his fingers wander slowly over your skin until they finally disappeared into your panties. He would have let them glide through your folds and collect your wetness before gently rubbing your bundle of nerves. You would have turned to him and moaned into his mouth as he slid one of his fingers into your tight walls.

He'd never escaped his bedroom so quickly and quietly and jumped into the freezing cold shower.

The water felt like fine pinpricks as it splashed down on his burning hot skin, but no matter how cold he turned it on - his cock stood angry and proud. He put his head back in despair, his brain vehemently refusing to see his friend in this light, to desire you like this. But before he could do anything about it, his fingers had wrapped themselves around his aching cock. His imagination ran away with him, too many images popped up in his mind's eye as he squeezed it twice in the hope of relieving some tension. But the only thing it triggered was the feeling of a moment ago, when his cock was against your ass. 

He was almost ashamed of how quickly he came. 

He just hoped you didn't notice when he came back into the bedroom and woke you up with it. He had thought about lying back next to you, but had decided on the foot of the bed to create some distance. 

The fact that you were dreaming about him threw him off course. And he'd really wanted to kiss you - by God, he'd wanted to do even kinkier things to you - but the timing never seemed right. 

And then Lando's message came.

The vibration in his pocket brings him back to the present. Charles takes a quick look around to make sure he's not the center of the conversation, then glances at his phone. 

Lando: You need to come home now.

He looks at the screen, confused. Why the hell is Lando texting him? Lando of all people? Did you tell him all the things Charles threw at you? How badly he treated you? 

Charles: I'm in Maranello. 

If you really did confide in Lando, his answer sounds pathetic. Why else would Lando text him? His friend certainly knows that Charles screwed up. And also that you want to move out of the apartment. But does the Brit really believe that Charles could change your mind when he's the reason you're moving out?

Lando's answer comes immediately.

Lando: I don't care. Get your ass over here. 

The Monegasque turns on the keypad lock on his cell phone and places it on the table in front of him. It wouldn't make any difference if he went home now and tried to change your mind. What could happen is that his presence would only strengthen your decision to move out. Besides, he doesn't know how he's ever going to face you again. 

Before he can think about it, his cell phone starts ringing. The eyes of his co-workers land on him and he apologizes with a quiet "mi dispiace" before leaving the meeting, phone in hand. Out in the corridor, he doesn't even need to look at the screen to know who is calling. 

"If you don't go back to Monaco immediately, I'll come to Italy myself to get you," Lando snaps at him and Charles has to hold the receiver away from his ear to stop his eardrums from bursting.

"Hi, Lando."

"Don't give me 'Hi, Lando'. Get your fucking ass over here."

Charles rubs his forehead before running his whole hand over his face. "I can't just leave here."

"Don't talk shit like that. We both know you're not up for the meeting," the Brit replies bitchily. "Don't act like you don't have a choice."

The Monegasque rolls his eyes. "What do you want to hear from me now, Lando?"

The answer comes like a shot from a gun. "I want to know what you've been up to! Are you completely stupid?"

Charles would like to know the answer too.

"You go home right now, explain your shitty behaviour and apologize."

"And you're interfering because...?" His tone is cold. 

"Because I was in your apartment all evening and had to watch how devastated Y/N was. I'd love to kill you for it."

"Go ahead and do it. She sure as hell wouldn't mind."

He swears he hears Lando take a deep breath on the other end of the line. 

"I'm going to tell you this once. Just once, Charles. And I'm saying this for her sake, because I still have hope that you're the person I was praising to her."

Praising? If you've told Lando everything, then you've certainly told Charles everything about the Brit. That he just wants to get you into bed. So why would Lando want to help him?

"What you did was absolute bullshit, Charles. Totally below the belt and you've never acted as fucking shit as you just did."

Charles rolls his eyes. "Is there anything positive coming?"

"Shut up, you idiot. I don't know what you've done in the few days you've known each other to make her so crazy about you, but I don't have to. Any blind man can see there's something between you. Something good. So go home now and save what can be saved before she really decides to leave the country."

Charles, who had just been leaning against the wall, stands up straight. "The country? I thought she just wanted to move out."

"She's been thinking about it, asshole. United States, Australia. Something really far away from you."

"But she has her job here, at that one magazine. There's no way she'd leave like that."

"She got fired, motherfucker. Before you made your weird deal. Nothing's keeping her here anymore. So get your ass over here now before she really decides to take off."

How could Charles be so blind? He knows the magazine, his mom reads it occasionally and he actually knows that a new issue comes out every week. You've known each other for five days - five days that you've spent entirely with him. Something that would definitely not be possible with such a full-time job. 

"And what do you want from me now? That I drop everything to go home even though she doesn't want to see me?"

"I've never seen anyone as stupid as you."

"Can you stop with the insults?" Charles snaps through the phone. 

"You have nothing to say to me, you arsehole. She told me what you said about me. You owe it to us to go off and try to make things right." 

Charles can't help but laugh. "Us? So you two are already an us?" He doesn't know why he's talking to one of his closest friends like this. Especially when the latter only wants to help put things right that Charles has messed up. The Monegasque has no reason to be angry. But the disgusting taste in his mouth, which he hasn't been able to get rid of for hours, is not anger. Unfortunately, he only realizes it now.

He's fucking jealous. And he can't do anything about it.

"We're friends, but apparently you don't know what the word stands for," Lando replies snippily. "Go home, explain to her why you behaved so badly and apologize to her." His voice softens, warmer than it has been throughout the phone call. "Charles, I know you're being careful because you're afraid of getting hurt again. And I can understand that, I really can." He takes a deep breath. "But it's Y/N we're talking about here. Sit down and talk to each other, be honest, and then it'll all work out."

Charles' gaze wanders to the huge Ferrari logo hanging on the wall next to him and his bad guilt returns. You don't even know who he is. To you, he's Charles, the roommate who shows you beautiful places, introduces you to his friends and with whom you share a bed. You are the only person who knows him as Charles and not as Charles Leclerc.

What would you think of him if the cat was out of the bag? When you see who he really is, including the spotlight? What happens if you like Charles, but not Charles Leclerc? He doesn't know if he could handle it. His job is his life, he's on the road all year round and what little time he has he has to divide between friends and family. 

That's why his relationship with Annika failed. She was right about what she threw at him. That you always have to wait for him and that it's not fair. And she knew what she was getting into from the start. But you don't. You would be thrown in at the deep end if you decided to go for it. If you chose him.

"I don't think it's that easy," Charles says quietly, and he has to suppress the tremor in his voice. "She - she doesn't deserve this life. This risk. She - she," he takes a deep breath and has to wipe away the tear running down his cheek. "She's too good for me. She deserves someone great."

"How strange," Lando replies. "That's exactly what she says about you. So get in the car and apologize. I'm sure you'll be able to sort it out. And if you say shit like that about me again, I'll drive you into the wall in Bahrain next year."

Charles curls his mouth into a thin smile. "I'm truly sorry, Lando. And thank you for everything."

"I'm just absolutely the best." Charles can almost hear his grin before the Brit hangs up.

When the Monegasque re-enters the meeting room, all eyes are on him. With deliberate steps, he walks to his chair and grabs his jacket before looking at his team boss. "I'm going home."

His boss crosses his arms in front of his chest. "You can't just leave like that, Charles. We need to talk about next season and everything that's gone wrong this year."

"I can tell you exactly what happened," the brunette replies as he zips up his jacket. "The strategies this year were all for the trash, you screwed me over and you cost me the title." He grabs his wallet and car keys from the table in front of him. "Make sure things go better next year. After all, it doesn't get any shittier than this. See you next year. Have a good holiday."

He knows that his Ferrari can drive fast. And he also knows that he shouldn't drive that fast. But the roads home are empty and he wants to get to you as quickly as possible, in the hope that you haven't left the apartment yet. The accelerator pedal is almost stuck to the floor and he would certainly have to pay a heavy fine if the police caught him speeding. But apparently luck is on his side and it takes him just over three hours to turn onto the streets of Monaco.

The closer he gets to your apartment, the faster his heart beats and he can feel himself starting to sweat. What's the best way to start the apology?

I'm sorry I was so shitty to you, but it was because -

I behaved like crap, but it was only because - 

I'm sorry I was such a bad friend, but you should have - 

Wow. It actually all sounds like shit. 

Maybe Lando is right. Maybe the most reasonable thing would be for Charles to just be honest, even if it means destroying everything between you. But you deserve the truth.

I'm sorry I said those bad things to you and I'm sorry I hurt you. Of course, apologizing can't undo any of it, but if you gave me the chance, I could explain myself to you. I was jealous because we had such a nice evening and then I find out you planned a date with one of my friends. I wanted to kiss you in the bookstore, I've wanted you ever since we met. You've been messing with my head from the beginning, taking over my heart and I can't think straight when you're with me. Maybe it's crazy because we've only known each other for five days, but I've never felt about someone the way I feel about you. I'm in lo-

His train of thought stops abruptly as he turns into the street. A green Nissan is parked on the sidewalk in front of your apartment, the driver's door is open and the hazard lights illuminate the walls of the house. 

Charles worriedly parks at the next opportunity before jumping out of the car and dashing to the front door, which is wide open. He can already hear angry voices from outside, a male voice that almost shouts the whole house awake. 

And your voice, angry and rough and shaky, as if you were at the end of your tether. 

Charles sprints up the few steps to your apartment and stops like a flash on the top step when he sees you. You're wearing your pyjamas, your hair is disheveled, as if you've run your hand through it several times, and when you see him, you snap your eyes open as if you've seen a ghost. 

But it's not the sight of you that makes Charles' blood boil. 

It's Raphael's, who follows your gaze and takes a step back when he realizes who he's facing. "Your roommate is Charles Leclerc?"

next part

[sweetiecutie]

🖤Fuck or die🖤

Paring: slasher! König x fem! Reader

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

Word count: 4k, holy fucking shit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- Y/n, get out of here!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SEE YOU SOON ♡

Slasher! König Masterlist

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

[sister-lucifer]

can we get gross pervy dom toby content 🙏

Some Gross Pervy Dom Toby Content 

Toby Rogers x Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: NSFW 

Summary: There is really no plot to be summarized, Toby’s just a horndog and he chased you down. good fuckin luck  

Content/Warnings: Dubcon/Noncon elements, implied stalking, horror elements, Toby being creepy, Toby smells you and touches you in the weirdest manner you can possibly imagine, NSFW with minimal (mostly implied) plot, no real sex happens just fucked up shit, no seriously this is nasty as fuck i’m getting put on a list for this 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

A/N: Just to avoid confusion, in my headcanon Toby has a stutter as well as but separate from his tourette’s; i’m writing his stutter, not his tics! thankies!

also READ THE FUCKING WARNINGS THIS ONE IS NASTY

Staring down the barrel of a loaded gun would fill you with less dread than staring up at the lanky boy who’s currently towering over you. 

You don’t have to look at him to know there’s a twisted smile filled with crooked, chipped teeth spread across his face, hazel eyes scrunched at the corners as he grins like a madman. You don’t want to look at him, really, but you can’t stop yourself before you’re slowly craning your neck to see. Slowly his face comes into view, and it’s even more unsettling than you could prepare for. 

His messy brown hair flicks up in all directions and partly obscures his eyes, and yet they seem to glow in the dim light of the sunset. One of his arms is above you, folded against the wall, while the other cages you into the corner. Besides his fingers drumming restlessly, he’s not moving, but his entire body is trembling with….excitement? His chest is heaving like he’s struggling to breathe, and the uncomfortable feeling of his warm exhale fanning over your face makes you shudder, and…oh god, is he drooling over you? Shit—

You press yourself hard against the wall, face burning hot against the cool air of the drafty abandoned building. Something tells you you shouldn’t take your eyes off of him for too long, but in your peripheral vision you can see through the broken windows. There’s nothing but trees in all directions, and the sky is rapidly darkening with each passing second. You’re watching any chance you had of escaping in the daylight slip from your fingers. Everything is becoming much too disorienting much too fast, thoughts racing and overlapping and screaming at you to do something, but you can’t. All at once you’re trying to figure out an escape plan, how to appease your captor for long enough to execute an escape plan, and how you even got here in the first place. 

The last thing you remember is running from him, the branches of the thicket grabbing at your pants and arms as if trying to hold you back. You had no choice but to run into the old hospital, but now you’re wishing you’d simply kept going. 

You must’ve moved too much for Toby’s liking, because he suddenly grabs onto your arm with a grip that feels strong enough to snap the bone in two. You yelp in pain, a second gloved hand quickly clamping over your mouth. The echo of your cry rings loud in your ears, and for a moment you wonder if it’ll ever go quiet again. 

“You…you…” Toby stutters, and your eyes widen at the sound of his voice. You aren’t sure what you were expecting to hear, but he just sounds so…normal, like any other nineteen year old boy, except if it were anyone else in any other scenario a mere couple of syllables wouldn’t strike such fear into you. 

“You ran a loooong t-time…” He scolds, but his grin doesn’t falter. He brings his hand away from your mouth to shake a finger at you, seemingly trusting you not to scream. 

Not like it would matter. You made him chase you pretty far in. 

In an instant his hands are on your waist, slipping under your shirt and eagerly grabbing at the soft flesh he finds beneath. You have to bite your tongue to hold back another yelp. 

“Oh, ooohh but it w-was worth it!” Toby slurs with a drawl, “I’ve f-finally fooouund yooouu, aha…” 

He sounds so proud of himself. Something about his tone is almost childish, deceivingly so. He truly thinks he’s done something amazing. 

Your heart skips a beat when he suddenly freezes, face going void of all emotion, and you wonder if you’ve truly angered him. If you did, would that be the mistake that ended it all? 

Fortunately, it seems he was just changing gears. You panic when you realize he’s leaning in towards you, but he moves past your face to practically bury his nose in your neck, taking a long and deep breath. He lets out a faint laugh as he breathes out, and it feels like a horrible sensation crawling down your spine. The only thing you can do is grab onto his arms, nails digging into the dirty and worn fabric of his hoodie. It’s practically caked with dried mud in some areas and you can feel the dry cracking beneath your hands. 

“I m-missed your…your s-smell…” Toby whispers. You’re confused for a moment, and it takes a few seconds for it all to set in. 

‘Missed?’ 

He’d…smelled you before? 

He ‘missed’ you… 

“I-I should have…should have visited m-more…I-I got ssso busy, b-but I didn’t forget you, I-I promise…” 

He keeps talking, but it starts to fade out. Only a few words matter, anyways. 

There’s an incredibly brief moment of clarity that flashes through your mind, a split second flicker of understanding that you hadn’t just been misplacing or losing things, that you weren’t imagining all those noises or shadows that you told yourself were childish things to be afraid of, and it nearly floods your brain before it disappears as quickly as it appeared. Maybe you purposefully pushed it out, at least for now. There was too much going on to process the past. If you were lucky enough to get out of this alive, you could reflect then. 

You’re frozen for a few moments as Toby’s idle hands begin to wander, as they always do. He’s at least considerate enough to feel you up through your clothes, but that doesn’t stop you from sucking in a harsh breath through your teeth when he roughly gropes your ass. It forces you to push yourself into him as you try to get away from the aggressive grip. You can feel him laugh with his chest pressed flush against yours. 

He takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you, and it’s become painfully obvious that he’s much stronger than he looks. You’d never expect someone so skinny to be able to manhandle you like this. 

He sways slowly from side to side as he holds you, one unsteady hand toying with your hair in a gesture that, on Toby’s end, seems as though it is meant to be sincere. 

“Th-There’s so much I want t-to do to y— to do with y-you…so little time…” He goes on muttering to himself over something or other, but you can’t understand him as he trails off. 

He seems preoccupied with his own thoughts, distracted enough that you begin to squirm. He doesn’t react, continuing to quietly rant about nothing while stroking your head. You struggle again, a bit bolder this time. Nothing. 

Maybe you actually had a chance, you just had to slip away. Hell, maybe you’d get lucky and run the right way on the first try; for all you know you’re only a mile away from a highway, that could be your lifeline. You just had to slip away— 

“Stop it! Stop doing that!” 

…Easier said than done, it seems. 

Hearing Toby yell, seemingly allowing a genuine flash of anger to overtake him as he slams you back against the wall, chills you to the core. He was unpredictable, bouncing back and forth between the extremes of whatever emotion he was feeling, making it impossible to plan around his potential actions. 

His hand splays out across your chest to keep you pinned to the wall. He’s applying much more pressure than he needs to, and he knows it. His smile twitches as you struggle to recover from having the wind knocked out of you. 

When he reaches back for his pocket, you expect him to pull out a weapon; maybe a knife, or even a small handgun you somehow hadn’t noticed. 

But no. He returns with something much smaller, and your brows furrow in confusion as you struggle to make out the shape among the shadows that have quickly taken over your space. 

“What’s t-the matter?” Toby asks, “Never seen a-a condom before?”

He snickers cruelly at the way your mouth hangs open in reply. 

“Whaaaat? I-I’m trying to be nice…don’t be a bitch.” 

“N…Nice?!” You choke out in reply, and this time Toby’s jaw drops. 

“Oh, it does speak!” He exclaims with genuine excitement. “Good, good…s-so good…” 

He holds the corner of the wrapper in his mouth so that his hand can be free to fumble with his belt. The sound of the buckle clanking as he slips it off makes your stomach flip. Your gaze flicks quickly back and forth from his pants back to his eyes, and he hasn’t stopped staring at you. You haven’t even seen him blink. 

His tongue runs over his glistening teeth as he prepares to speak again: 

“I h-hope you squeal for me, pretty thing…When we’re done here, I’m t-takin’ you with me…” 

[sh1-n0bu]

Sub!scara getting jealous of the interaction's between reader and dottore, so he flirts with one of the guest. Only to end up punished and overstimulated at the end of the night.

please and thank you. Take care and have a nice day, night, or afternoon. See you next ask♡

♡︎ 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙗𝙞𝙩 𝙟𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙮 ♡︎

characters: sub!scaramouche x gn!dom!reader

warnings: overstimulation, degrading, dacryphillia, breeding, orgasm denial

notes: i had to rely on my maladaptive daydreaming for this one. takes place after scaramouche���s defeat era but reader and scara came across dottore during a sumeru festival.

i’m so sorry i took soo long😭😭 see you at the next ask and please come again by the cafe!

ever since the defeat of scaramouche from his false godhood and the therapy sessions with nahida and the aranaras, he’s mentality has been getting better and better. not all of his trauma is healed yet but hey he’s working on it!

and it seems like the people of sumeru has held another grand festival in the name of the lesser lord kusanali. of course a festival is nothing if it doesn’t invite everyone who wants to join of course. however not everyone is an exactly a welcome guests. that includes dottore, the 2nd of the fatui harbingers.

don’t get me wrong, just because a guest isn’t a welcome one doesn’t mean they would be shoo-d out. but your sweet boyfriend didn’t like it. not at all. seeing dottore casually talking to you with a carefree, lopsided smile while he has to stand back and try not to march over where you two are and make out with you was hard. so hard to the point he accidentally put out the lanterns around him with his newfound anemo power.

and there dottore was. chatting with you as if you two were old friends, reunited after years of not seeing each other. throwing a snide remark about how your loving darling was a failure, how he can be a better boyfriend for you and how he was even better than him in all ways while you tried your hardest not to break his jaw.

the last straw for your darling was the doctor leaning against you like you two were lovers and whispering in your ears. that’s it. he’s had enough.

pulling a random citizen close by their waist, scaramouche started to flirt with them. compliment after compliment, flirty remark after one another, it even seemed like the fool was falling for his trick.

looking sideways for your lover’s help only to see him throwing flirtatious remarks with some fool, something in you snapped. first was dottore and now this? that’s it, you’ve had it. pushing the blue haired man away from yourself and striding over to where your lover is with a fuzzy mind, everyone around you backed away.

“so, what do you say if we meet up more oft-hey! let go of me you-?!” when scara was suddenly pulled away and collided with a broad chest, he knew he fucked up big time. looking up at you with a wide eyes and a shuddered breath, the dark look in your eyes made him shiver. was it anticipation? fear? excitement? he didn’t know. but frankly he didn’t care since he finally have your attention on him now! and only him alone.

“forgive us but a sudden work has popped up for me and my lover” sending a sweet smile towards the stranger, you quickly walked back home with your lover struggling to catch up with you.

as soon as the door to your small shared home is closed, scaramouche found himself trapped against the wall in a hungry kiss. he didn’t mind it, this was his plan after all. moaning into the kiss and grinding his ass on your legs, your short lover was starting to grow restless. why weren’t you touching him already?!

it seemed like his wish will be granted for soon he soon found himself thrown into the bed harshly. anticipating your next moves with lust drumming in his veins, scaramouche looked up at you with a cloudy purple eyes.

—

“aanngh-gyah! c-cumming! cummingcummingcum-!” scaramouche helplessly whined and sobbed as you kept fucking him stupid. but just as he was about to reach his peak you pulled out again, leaving his hole feeling empty and hips twitching.

“NO! nonononono! p-put it back! [name]~ put it ba-ackk! please!” more tears fell down his face for the pleasure you denied him of. sticking out his stretched, gaping hole and wiggling his ass for you, he hoped it would be enough to lure you back in. you’ve been denying his orgasm for hours and it fucking hurt.

“sniff… please? p-please? hic i-i won’t do it again…” seems like your precious boy has completely gave up. sniffling and praying to any archons, scaramouche wailed and trashed around when your thick length entered his hole again. a mess of desperate “please” and “i’ll be good”-s tumbled out of his mouth. well, you were mean to him for long enough, you supposed.

“cum for me love” letting out a loud wail and blabbering “thank you”-s, scaramouche came all over the sheets, hands scrambling to hold anything. some even squirted on his tummy. laying flat on his stomach as his legs had finally gave out, your sweet boy tried to catch his breath. but you aren’t done with him yet.

“haah haah [n-naME]?! S-SHTOP! WHA-WHAT AANGGGH♡︎♡︎!!”

“shh, it’s okay baby boy. you did some stupid shit today so you have to learn how to pay for it. or else you’ll never learn” kissing his shoulder, you ignored his incoherent sobs for you to stop and continued to thrust into his sloppy hole.

“i’ll just make you dumber and dumber scara. until the only thing you can scream is my name”. that night was filled with scaramouche wailing and sobbing your name, begging for forgiveness.

[babyb1ues]

Xavier’s No Restraint

and when the string finally snaps.

“Young people don’t know how to cherish what they have.”

The concept of immortality is always a fascinating one. The dichotomy of life and death and what you lose and what you gain. What a long life strips from your soul and your understanding of the very same life you live.

Something about Xavier, he has learned to cherish–the hard way, I think. Modern humans, who get caught up in the windmill of life, a constant struggle, too busy, too tired, too distracted to live in the moment, sit back and take it in. Now, think about life, but without a clock ticking above your head, living in the blissfulness and unknownness of what it’s like to exist in borrowed time. No longer transient, unrepeatable. You take it for granted.

He went to explain himself as soon as possible. The meaning of his absence, pointed out by one of the targets, nonetheless. He’s got a habit of disappearing, everybody knows this. He’s worked alone for so long he’s become of secretive nature—relying on himself. But he’s got someone else now, and he knows he can’t just up and leave like he’s used to. If I remember correctly MC has called him out on this before, but this is no time and place to question him, so we get, “Why are you suddenly talking about this?” and maybe it’s because he’s embarrassed to admit it, and the wind gives a certain lightness to his words—carry them away after he’s delivered them, so he says then, “No reason.” But there’s always a reason.

He’s forced to come clean. I hesitate to call it a justification of his actions, it doesn’t feel quite right. I’d rather go for an understanding of his actions, he wants us to understand the reason for not just why he did what he did just now, but this specific pattern of his behavior, of his psychology—the disappearing without a trace, the nonchalant of his voice.

It’s like he wants to say If I leave is not because I choose to, not this time. And he doesn’t take it for granted, not this time. We know this to be true, to an extent. He knows we know. Nobody asked for an explanation, but he offers one, reaffirms it. Words are mere airflow unless you mean what you say.

One room. One bed.

He doesn’t mind sleeping outside. Outside. Where it’s a cold lobby and uncomfortable and probably noisy with the incoming rain. It’s not like he’s a stranger, he’d be let inside–he knows this too, that’s why he suggested it first. Xavier knows boundaries—to a goddamn fault, time and time again to the point it’s frustrating to watch. It’s like being scared of burning your hand. He hovers, hesitates, prods and pulls back. You know the fire would eat you up, but when all you’ve known is cold the warmth of a fire sounds alluring.

Xavier is shown to be on the edge of flirting with fire. It’s not the first time. The flame licks at his finger, dances around him, he lets it, only to later shut it down with a swiftness. This time it’s different though, there’s oil slowly dripping into the flame.

“...kneels in front of me, grasps my ankle, and takes off my high heels.”

And it’s him, he’s feeding into it when he knows he shouldn’t have.

“...leans against the edge of the table, shoulder to shoulder with me.”

But the light is too bright.

“Did you reconsider?”

Too warm.

“So I could have you all to myself.”

He prods with a finger. He asks if he’s your favorite.

And he can’t help himself.

The narrative reads “If we stayed there another second, a fire would’ve started.”

The card is called No Restraint, yet there’s a whole lot of restraint coming from him —all the time—so much that it damn nears aches, and it shows. Gazes caught lingering, hiding away yet still nudging a sleeping beast. He’s lying through his teeth, playing along with words he knows to be untrue, words that let him know that he is wanted. And he is wanting too.

He asks if you want to do something, before the rain stops. The weather has you hostage in this room with nowhere to go. It’s just you and him, and he needs to know, once again. He needs to know if you’re okay with it.

He’s at the edge of it, not fully engulfed. The liquid dripping down his temple transforms from water droplets of a shower to the moisture of his skin. He grabs the hand venturing towards his neck because it’s a game until it’s not. He parts his mouth, panting like he’s short of breath, as if he were fighting an internal battle.

“...I am trapped by something.”

The whisper of his name is enough to plunge him into the depths of it.

The flame bursts into a fire, and he lets himself be burned.

[lunicho]

wandering thoughts - han taesan

- synopsis: taesan can't help but get distracted while on holiday with your family. all he wants is to be under your gaze. (2.1k words)

- warnings: subby taesan, gn reader, brief nipple play, y/n and taesan almost get caught, handjob, reader calls taesan kitty like twice (lmk if i missed anything)

a/n: first fic omgg, i'm rlly rusty with writing so pls be nice 💔. i don't normally call taesan by his real name but my mind works weird so i have to write fics with his real name idk why, anyways hope you enjoy!!

“dongmin you have to let go!” your voice was muffled because your boyfriend had his arm around you, pushing your face into him. he'd been holding you in place for so long, not wanting to be left behind. “i need to shower!!” after a little bit of a struggle, you somehow managed to twist out of his grasp. 

your eyes were squinted as you adjusted to being in the light again, but you moved to your drawer to grab your clothes. “i'll just go with you then.” he sat up as well, moving himself to the end of your bed. 

“no, you already know that you can't. i won't be that long, you big baby.” you laughed when you saw his expression, a slight pout placed on his lips. he continued to watch your every move, eyes following you as you moved around your room. 

you turned your body towards him, a deadpan expression coming across your face. “baby, seriously im not gonna disappear the second your eyes leave me, relax.” dongmin threw his body back on the bed, sighing at how badly he wanted your attention. 

“i'll be back, i promise.” you grabbed the remote from behind him, placing a kiss on his pouty lips simultaneously, “find a movie or something while im gone.” you dropped the remote in his lap, quickly leaving the room before he could protest any further. 

this was the first time dongmin was visiting with your family for an extended period of time. you've brought him to get togethers and other family events but he's never stayed at your parents house or any of your family's house for that matter. the day was awesome, everyone was getting along well and you had a lot of fun, especially since you hadn't been to your parents house in a little while. he hated that his mind strayed like it did all day, the only thing he was able to focus on was you. 

his mind wandered again as he tried to pick a movie, all he could think about was you in the shower. how the water would run down your body, the way your sweet scented shower gel would lather on your chest, and how you'd stand wordlessly in the warmth, enjoying the way the water heated up your joints. he bit his lip at the thought, trying to snap himself out of it by scrolling through more movies. he could feel himself getting hard already, just the thought of your naked body could drive him to insanity. dongmin eventually landed on one, sighing as his pants suddenly felt way too tight. 

he got up to change into pajamas, hurriedly removing his pants. he palmed himself over his underwear once his jeans were off, eyebrows furrowed with frustration. a small pool of precum leaked through his black boxers, the sight making him harder. he thought about quickly getting himself off but ultimately decided against it, not wanting to disobey you. 

you caught his attention a little bit later by opening your bedroom door, entering the room in your cozy pajamas. you threw your dirty clothes into the basket by the door, smiling at your boyfriend lovingly, “do you wanna go take a shower?” you grabbed your lotion and sat on the bed, rubbing down your arms and legs. dongmin shook his head, “no, i took one right before i came.” he lifted the blanket off of himself a little to show that he had already changed into pajamas. 

you nodded and turned your back to dongmin, looking at the tv, “ooh you picked a good movie, you can start it.” he pressed play, the tv faintly playing sound. you normally keep the volume fairly since you usually watch tv late into the night. 

you could hear dongmin moving around behind you, the way the bed slightly shook also giving it away. the bed dipped below you a bit when he got closer, you could almost feel heat radiating off of him. his hands rested on your shoulders and he brought his face down to yours, placing kisses on your face and shoulders. he briefly smelled the nape of your neck, the freshly sprayed perfume and body oil made a heavenly mixture on your skin. you tilted your head, allowing him more access, “seriously what has gotten into you today?” you put the lotion down with a smile on your face, moving onto the bed and cuddling into your boyfriend. 

“don't know, just love you.” you now had your back to the tv, the two of you facing each other as you cuddled up. “well, love me from over there.” you said jokingly, trying to move out of his grasp again, hands pushing him away. you both laughed but dongmin's grasp on you remained firm. he lowered you onto your back, placing his lips on yours. a quiet whimper fell from his lips, showing how desperate he was for your touch. 

“you know,” you pulled away from the kiss, sitting up on your elbow, your free hand moving down his torso, “you could just tell me when you're needy like this..” you brush your hand along his hardened length, confirming your suspicions. 

he sucked in a breath, reacting to the way you grasped him gently, fingers gripping the bed sheets. his big eyes gazed into yours, his lip caught between his teeth. he breathed out a whimper when your hand moved away from him. “keep quiet, don't want my family hearing you..” 

you sat up on your knees, the long forgotten movie still playing behind you two. you moved the blanket down his body, allowing yourself to fully see. “why should i help you right now? maybe i should just leave you like this as a punishment for being so dirty.” you were only teasing but the desperate head shaking that came from the boy below you made you smile. 

“please.. i need you so bad..” his volume was low, desperation leaking from every word. he ran his hand through his hair, his thighs pressing together slightly. 

“i can't believe you right now..” you genuinely were a little shocked, dongmin isn't usually the type that's not able to control himself but he'd just been extra needy today. he'd been keeping a hushed but flirty tone with you all day, leaning down to your ear each time. when you'd be alone with him he'd kiss you quickly, pressing his lips against you as much as he could. 

“please y/n..” he shut his eyes tight, a slight wave of embarrassment washing over him. he brought his hands up to his face, slightly covering it. he's always so shy during sex but he was so so cute. 

“aww it's okay baby, i'm sorry for teasing you so much.” with one hand you pulled his hands away from his face, your thumb brushing over his bottom lip. he pushed his lips against the pad of your finger, his lips parting slightly. with your other hand you gently palmed him over his pants. your voice was hushed as you spoke, not wanting anyone to hear, “gonna take care of you okay?” he nodded, eyes desperate. 

you pulled the tied drawstring of his pajama pants, quietly asking him to pull them down. you ran a finger up the length of his shaft, watching as he shivered under you. his precum made his tip slick as you thumbed his throbbing slit. 

you reached for the lotion you used earlier, squeezing some into your hand, finally slowly pumping his length. small needy noises spilled from the boys lips. you caressed his cheek gently, heart melting when he unconsciously leaned into your touch, just like a little kitten. “you've gotta keep quiet kitty.” with that you swiftly stuck two fingers into his mouth and he immediately started sucking on them. 

he breathed out heavily, one of his hands holding onto your arm as a way to brace himself. you adored this boy, continuing to pump his length at a steady pace. 

dongmin couldn't sit still, his thighs tensed and released repeatedly as a tight ball for formed in his stomach. his hips rolled in small circles, eyes staring up at you once again. he moaned around your fingers, one of his hands moving to go around your waist. 

you couldn't help but whisper, “such a pretty kitty..” your voice sounding slightly awestruck. times like this just swole your heart up, filling you with warmth. you pulled your fingers out of his mouth, moving your hand under his shirt to toy with his nipples. 

his nipples weren't that sensitive but they still got him reacting a bit. they hardened as soon as you touched them, hands brushing across them playfully. 

you focused your hand on the tip of his cock, repeatedly brushing over it. his hips slightly stuttered, pushing away from your grasp out of sensitivity. this got his orgasm building up even faster than before. 

he was so close to finishing, so so close but there was a knock at your door. dongmin's hips stilled, a mortified expression crossing his face. “y/n?” your hand slowed down on his length, his body tense in your grasp. you continued to play with the head of his cock as you answered, knowing your mom wouldn't open the door, “yes mom?” dongmin accidentally whimpered at the feeling of your hand slightly tightening on his length, his noise almost being too loud.

without second thought you slapped a hand over his mouth. he breathed out heavily from his nose, the air blowing against the back if your hand. the adrenaline of the situation caused his cock to twitch. he shut his eyes tightly, suddenly getting the urge to fuck your fist and make himself cum. 

“are you guys hungry? do you want a snack or anything?” you nodded although she couldn't see you through the door, “yeah, thanks, we'll be out in a second, we're finishing up part of this movie.” she responded to you after that, the sound of her footsteps getting farther from your door. 

you waited to be sure she was gone before speaking, leaning closer to the boy, “oh you liked that, hm? almost getting caught made your cock harder didn't it? so dirty..”

you uncovered his mouth and watched his mouth move as if he was going to say something, but nothing came out. “next time we're at your place i'm gonna fuck you up for this, you know that right? gonna ride you until you're begging me to let you cum.” he nods eagerly at this with furrowed eyebrows, desperate to cum now. 

the way you're talking is enough to get him going even more. his hips moved on their own causing you to stop your movements on his cock. he fucked himself into your fist, head thrown back and mouth falling open. 

several moans come from him, your fingers returning to his mouth. his moans are muffled but still quite audible as he gets himself off in your fist. 

ropes of cum eventually shoot from his cock, landing on his stomach. you begin stroking him through his orgasm, his hips stuttering once again. he breathes heavily, pressing his lips shut against your fingers as he comes down from his high. he keeps his eyes closed as his chest rises and falls, his hips jolting every once in a while. 

you pull your fingers out of his mouth once again, leaning down to kiss his slightly sweaty forehead. you brush his hair out of his face, kissing down to his cheek, “you okay my love?” to that he nods, finally opening his eyes and smiling shyly. 

“thank you y/n.” he was feeling slightly embarrassed again as he sat up on his elbows looking at his stomach. he was covered in his own cum, unable to move from his spot. he shook his head before looking to you for help, hands returning to his hair to fluff it up, a habit he has. you turned to him and nodded with a smile as you looked for something to clean him up with. 

you grabbed a towel out of your laundry basket, wiping your hands before taking it over to dongmin. you helped him clean himself up, returning the towel to the basket shortly after. you stood by the door, watching the boy on your bed. 

“hurry honey, i wanna get some snacks.” he smiled at you as he pulled his pants back up, tying the knot once again. his heart was still pumping quickly as he exited the room, the adrenaline of the situation still with him. 

[secretivemessenger]

★ [ A Present For The Birthday Boy ] ☆

Happy birthday beloved - { @gaybitchfx } - your gift

Illumi x top male reader

Warnings: OOC! Hair pulling! Breeding! Face fucking! Degrading! Use of sex toys! Fingering! Nipple play! Sounding! Overstimulation! Orgasm denial! dumbification! Eating out! Sir kink! Choking! Cuffs!

It’s the day you literally waited a whole year for. The long awaited day, your birthday.

Yes it’s your birthday. But thats not the reason you were so excited about. Not that or the gifts that you’ll be receiving from all the people. But the best surprise that your lover promised you of.

Once he told you that he prepared a gift for you personally, you’ve waited for this day to hurriedly come and find out what he had in store for ya.

You had some guesses on what it might be, but you could’ve never guessed that it’d be something like this. But are you complaining? Absolutely not.

Finding illumi laying so beautifully for you on top of your shared bed was a sight you never imagined seeing. His hands were cuffed on top of his head as his naked body presented itself so elegantly for your eyes to admire.

You didn’t even know where to begin, or what to say. You were left completely speechless. So illumi had to talk instead.

“Happy birthday,” he said in a hushed tone as a very light shade of pink dusted his cheeks. You were taken by another surprise as you weren’t used to him being like this. You almost doubted that he was the same man that threatened you yesterday by saying he can kill you off at any time he pleases. All because you called him cute.

Soon enough the soft tone turned to a cold agitated one “for how long are you planning to keep me waiting?”. He said it completely snapping you out of your thoughts. A small chuckle left you at his behaviour. But this was your special day, you cannot just let him act so greedily when you should be the greedy one.

“Is this all you got me?” A raised brow is what you received “I am allowing you to do however you please to me, is it not enough?” You chuckled again before responding “anything I want you to say?” “Yes anything, I never back down on my words” your chuckles died down “alright. Give me a second” “huh”

You reached down into the closet near the bed and pulled out a medium-sized box. From the way you were struggling illumi could tell it was quite heavy.

You placed it onto the bed next to him before positioning yourself between his legs. “What's that?” He asked with curiosity filling his eyes. “You’ll find out soon. Now, let's get you ready first” you said with a smile that the other deemed to be very suspicious.

Until suddenly taking a hold of his pale thighs and pulling him up till his twitching hole was inches away from your face. Upon your breaths against his rim, it sent an overwhelming shiver through his body.

Lolling your tongue out till the saliva dripped down onto his hole teasing him with the wet sensation. Legs already shaking no matter how hard he tried to cover it up. His pride couldn’t be scratched more than this. But he has to hold back, he did say you could do whatever you want, and he never goes back on his words. But nothing could prepare him for what to come.

You gave a few licks to his rim before shoving your tongue inside his ring of muscles with ease. “AH-” a surprised scream left illumi as you worked him open with your tongue. Soon enough his whimpers and moans that he tried to cover up so badly spread in the room.

You added two of your fingers alongside your tongue catching him by surprise. “Hey. Wai-” gasps of pleasure echoed in the room. As you spread up his hole with your fingers, allowing your tongue to venture deeper into his rim. Easily pressing against his prostate which resulted in even louder moans. All the while fixating your eyes on his face, watching it twist and turn with every thrust of your tongue.

You could tell he was about to come from the way his body shakes. But you weren’t just gonna let him cum that easily. This was your birthday after all, you’re the one who should be enjoying yourself. So you stopped which resulted in a whine and a cry. “C'mon now, we can’t just end it now. There’s still more things I wanna do to you.”

You felt yourself rock hard but didn’t wanna put it in yet, you had other plans up your sleeves. “First, how about a change in position. Hmm?”

You sat him down infront of you with his back pressed against your chest, while his hands still cuffed infront of his body. you spread his legs open using your legs.

Grabbing the box from near you. You opened it and flipped it making all the stuff inside spill infront of him. You watched as his expression changed from curiosity to that of surprise, and unsurprisingly arousal. As a bunch of toys, sex toys laid right there. All kinds and all sizes.

Oh, he was sure in for a long night. Well, he can’t start complaining now, he signed up for this after all <3.

-

“Are you sure you’re that well-known dangerous assassin? Because all I'm seeing right now is a cock hungry needy slut” you whispered near his ear but he was barely able to hear whatever you said. Too busy being consumed by all the pleasure hitting him all at the same time.

He felt incredibly stuffed with only two bullet vibrators inside his hole, vibrating at the highest setting. It made the infamous assassin completely dumb. He barely knew the difference between right and left. All that and your cock wasn’t involved yet.

Not to mention the weighted nipple clips you placed on him. Making sure to pull hard at them, making them even more red and puffy than they already are. Drawing more moans out of him.

you almost wanted to laugh at the “funny” state he was in. The way he cried out made you almost feel bad for him. Wanting to just stop and start pounding into him already. Make him cum because of you over and over again. Yet there is still one more thing you want to try out.

You reached your hands into the box and pulled a Beaded Urethral Dilator. Catching illumi’s interest. But you reached your other hand and started to intensely pump his pre-cover cock. Distracting him from the object at hand.

He threw his head back from pleasure, resting it on your shoulders. Body shaking violently. He closed his eyes trying to calm himself down as he feel his long Awaited orgasm approaching.

“Huh-” voice cracking he moved his head back straight after feeling the strange object near his tip. Confusion turned to horror as you positioned the tool near his tip.

Waiting for no complaints you pushed the metal piece past his tip. Going all the way down. A loud scream shook the place as his body moved uncontrollably before he started to pant like an unhinged dog.

“Was that- a dry orgasm?” His mind feeling too lost to even understand your words. You couldn’t help but laugh, after all, you just witnessed the feared assassin have the most pathetic orgasm ever. “I just inserted it in and it left you in this state. What would happen to you if I do this?”

With no time to react. You started pulling up the metal just to push it back in place, then roughly started fucking him with the metal piece. This sudden feeling added alongside the vibrator turned his mind to mush. As he begged you to stop. But you weren’t satisfied yet. Your cock was still rock hard and neglected.

So you stopped moving your hands and instead turned him around by his hair and shoved him down your clothed crotch. He shook his head, silently asking for a break. “But didn’t you say I can do whatever? Don’t tell your backing down on your words now.” He shook his head again at your words “heh, good”

Undoing your pants to finally let your cock breathe. Taking off your boxer as your cock sprang up right away gently slapped against his cheeks.

He looked flabbergasted you could not help but giggle. “C'mon now, you better get to work.” Upon your words, he took a deep breath and swallowed up his spit before wrapping his soft lips around your tip. You sighed loudly in satisfaction, as your cock finally gets the attention it deserves.

Going down as much as he can illumi tried to take your cock fully in his mouth, but he was soon to gag on it as it reached the back of his throat. He would’ve stroked the rest while he suck what he can, but the handcuffs were an obstacle in his way.

Seeing him struggle to take your cock inside him you decided to give him a helping hand. He widened his eyes once you grabbed his hair roughly and shoved him all the way till your cock went past his throat. Tears gathered in his eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.

You gasped loudly from how good and tight his throat felt around you. It made you more anticipated to finally start fucking his hole that you groaned loudly. You were not ashamed to let out your noises and instead, you started moaning and talking about how good of a slut he is for you and how amazing he’s making you feel.

He would never admit it but it felt so amazing having you use his mouth like that. Roughly pulling at his hair as you face-fucked him. Using his mouth like it's a sex toy. It felt even more incredible for you that you could cum on the spot, but you didn’t wanna do it. Not yet at least.

Stopping as soon as you felt yourself close, you pulled him away from you by his hair making him groan. “That was a close call, don’t you think!” You said as all he did is look up at you with confused eyes “what-?” Clearly, the previous action got him so fucked up he failed to process what you said

“Err- nevermind. Anyhow, would you mind turning around for me” “huh?” Not understanding what you meant you sighed in disappointment “can you get any more dumber than that” he barely understood what you said yet he showed an offended look.

Once your patience ran out you grabbed a hand full of his hair and turned him around on his knees as he supported himself with his elbow. you positioned yourself behind him. “Sorry- I just can’t hold back anymore. I want- I need to be inside of you so bad” the sudden change caught him by surprise. Yet you can’t be blamed he just looked so gorgeous. It’s maddening.

You pressed the tip of your cock against his hole before pushing in so easily inside after all the foreplay you’ve done. Even as he was stretched open with your tongue fingers and a vibrator he was still tightening around you hard. Giving you the pleasure that you’ve been craving all this time.

Slowly pulling back before snapping your hips back harshly. Going all the way till you started feeling the vibrators that were still inside of him vibrating against your cock. Gosh, it felt so incredible. “This is amazing,” you said in a breathy tone as you started pounding his poor hole till it was all red and puffy. Determined to keep going till he’s all filled up, nice, and full.

He gasped in surprise when your hands reached to squeeze up his neck. “GAH-” tears stained his pale face, tongue lolling out, every part of his body shook at the incredible force of your thrusts.

The wights on the nipple clamps would rock with every thrust you make. Putting pressure on his nipples. Adding up to the pleasure that illumi felt.

It felt like you would explode at any second, and you’re sure illumi is too. No, he would’ve came at least three times if it wasn’t for the metal piece that settled inside his tips.

“Wanna cum- pleaAH” he begged you in a shaky tone barely making up a full sentence “really? Tell me how much you want it,” you said teasingly “SIR- ple. I want it I want it I want it I want it I wan-” the amount of desperation and desire as he repeated the same sentence was so pathetic that it made you feel like coming right away right then and there. But you held back. “Alright heh- let’s cum together then”.

Upon saying that you took a hold of the metal and pulled it out fast. A scream that would surely be heard by the rest of the family was let out as illumi had the most intense orgasm of his life. His whole body gave up on him but you did not stop. You still haven’t got to cum.

So you continued thrusting up against him. He couldn’t do anything to stop you so he just whimpered and whined as he let himself get overstimulated by your continuous moves. With just a few more thrusts you bursted. Filling him up to the brim. Just from the feeling of your cum overflowing inside of him he came all over himself a second time.

You finally collapsed beside him after you pulled out. Both of you panting loudly trying to catch your breath. Slowly but surely you came down from your high.

Before even getting the chance to relax a pair of eyes that screamed “kill” looked at you. You sweated up before turning around with a smile. You opened your mouth “shut your mouth” you closed your mouth. He turned around and gave you his back.

“Happy birthday”

He said it softly, which was a side you never thought you’d witness. Gently smiling at his words you hugged him from behind bringing him closer to your chest. “Hehehe, you’re so cute” he hummed at you “but my birthday is not over yet” “huh” he looked back at you with a look full of confusion and the very smallest hint of anticipation.

“There’s still lots of other toys I want to try out. So you better start using the assassin stamina that you have because we still have a long way to go before we’re done.”

🏷️: @gaybitchfx @vyloy

[slut4thebroken]

Bully stepbro!Neil pt. 1

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Stepbro!Neil Lewis x reader

Summary | Your stepbrother likes to bully you… His all time favorite way to do that is with wedgies.

Warnings | Heavy on the humiliation lol, wedgies, lots of ‘em, that’s what the whole fic is lol, degradation, dubious consent, crying, pretend he’s actually strong enough to do this lmao

Words | 2.4 k

Notes | You guys fr need to stop encouraging me💀 Also I couldn’t decide on a gif lol since it’s not one full story but a bunch of little things, so I decided to put them at the beginning of each one :)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Give me the remote.” He said as he flopped down on the couch next to you. 

“No. My dad said I can use the tv today.” You hid the remote under the blanket, trying to keep it away from him. 

“Yeah well he’s not here is he?” You bit your lip and looked away from him with a scowl. “Give it.” He ordered, only making you more defiant. 

“No.” 

“Stop being a brat and just give it to me.” He snapped. 

“No!” You watched him let out a heavy breath through his nose as he clenched his jaw. Before you could even blink, he was lunging at you. “Stop it!” You yelled, trying to push him away. The blanket covering you and the remote fell off in the process and you kept struggling as he tried to over power you. 

Finally he grabbed your wrists and slammed you down onto the couch, making the remote fall to the floor. He let go of one of your wrists to reach for it and you brought your hand down to push at the arm holding himself up. Both of you grunted when he landed on top of you, but he kept reaching, so you used that to your advantage and rolled him off the couch, letting you have a chance to try and take it back. Part of your torso was off the couch as you tried to grab it and as soon as Neil got up from the floor, he was attacking again. 

What you didn’t expect was for his hands to go down toward your hips and grab your underwear. You screamed on the first hard pull and he did it again, this time pulling you off the couch. 

“What the hell?! Stop it!” You yelled, trying to crawl away from him, but he just got to his feet and stood over you, lightly stepping on your back to hold you in place as he got a better grip on your underwear. He started pulling again, lifting your hips off the ground as you screamed. The pain was like nothing you’ve ever felt before. The burning was so bad it brought tears to your eyes that didn’t take long to fall. 

“Neil, stop!” You cried out. “I’m sorry! You can have the remote,” 

“I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet.” He said simply. 

“I have! Please!” Your voice was cracking now that you were crying. He continued pulling, bouncing your hips up and down, each one forcing a sound of pain out of you. When he got bored, he yanked as hard as he could one final time, then suddenly let go. You dropped onto the floor with a startled grunt and watched him bend down to pick up the remote before sitting on the couch again. Your sobs quieted a little and you started sniffling, not getting up from the floor yet. 

“Can you go cry in the other room?” He huffed, getting annoyed. 

“That hurt, Neil.” You’ve never sounded so pathetic before. 

“Good. It was supposed to.” He shrugged with a small smirk. “Go put ice on it or something— I don’t really care. But at least just shut up so I can actually watch.” 

“What are you doing?” He asked as he walked into the room. 

“Just making some lunch.” You shrugged and he hummed in response. You waited for him to say something, but he just kept staring at you. After another minute, he finally spoke. 

“How long’s it been, huh?” He asked curiously, making your brows scrunch together in confusion. 

“What?” 

“You know… Since we’ve had the whole house to ourselves.” You stiffened, worrying about where he was going with this. 

“Oh… Yeah, a while I guess.” You said nervously. 

“Well, do you want to do anything? You don’t have any friends and all of my friends think you’re weird so we could just have some brother-sister bonding time.” He suggested teasingly. If you were facing him, he probably would’ve winked. 

“I was just gonna read and catch up on some homework.” You were really hoping he’d just let this go and leave you alone… but when has he ever passed up an opportunity to mess with you? 

“God,” he groaned exaggeratedly, “this is why you don’t have any friends. I mean seriously, who does homework on a Saturday night?” 

“What do you even want to do?” You sighed, knowing he wouldn’t stop. 

“I can think of one thing…” As soon as you realized what he meant, you turned around, finding him already walking toward you. 

“No, Neil— Neil, please don’t.” You whined, but it was already too late. He turned you around to face away from him, then immediately reached in the back of your pants for your underwear and yanked them up. You cried out when he pulled hard enough to lift you off the ground for a second. “Ow! Neil, stop!” You yelled, trying to push his hands away. 

“If you don’t want to be wedgied then you shouldn’t act like a nerd.” He snickered, pulling harder. “You're lucky I don’t feel like putting in the effort to get it around your shoulders or over your head.” He gave one last yank, much harder than all of the previous ones, then let you go. You had to cling to the counter for support so that you didn’t fall. Before walking out, he grabbed the plate of food you made for yourself. “Have fun with your homework, nerd.” 

You were reaching as high as you could, trying to get something from the top shelf of the pantry, but your fingers barely brushed the shelf. 

“Need a hand?” Before you could respond he was getting a good grip on your underwear and pulling them up until your feet barely touched the ground, making you scream. “Oh come on, you still have to reach for it.” He kept bouncing you, over and over again, never giving you a proper chance to try and grab it. Tears were welling up in your eyes from the burn now, but he didn’t stop. “Come on, nerd. Reach higher.” You heard the loud tearing before you felt the intense burn, then fell to the ground. “Holy shit!” He laughed loudly, holding your ripped underwear in his hands. “How much did that hurt, huh?” He smirked. 

“Just give it back and leave me alone.” Your frown only encouraged him. 

“No, I think I want a trophy.” He started stuffing your underwear in his pocket and you leaned up to reach for them, but he pushed you back down by your forehead. “Once you get whatever it was you were reaching for, make me something too. All of that pulling really took a lot out of me.” He started walking out, then stopped when he was in the doorway, giving you a condescending smile. “Oh and you might try using a stool, idiot.” 

You were sitting on the couch, reading and trying to relax, but you sighed loudly when you heard his footsteps growing closer. Neil walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch, throwing his feet up to lay down and almost kicking you in the process. 

“Clean my room by tonight. My mom told me to do it, but I don’t really feel like it.” He ordered casually, as he turned on the tv. The demand immediately made your blood boil— you’re sick of putting up with this. 

“No! You can clean it yourself.” You said firmly, making him turn his head to look at you. 

“Excuse me?” His tone made you falter. 

“I-I’m not your maid. You can clean your own room.” Your voice was far less confident this time. 

“Fine.” He shrugged with a smile, standing up and walking closer to you. When he grabbed you and started pulling you over the arm of the couch, you kicked and squirmed, but it was no use. As soon as your hips were resting on it, he grabbed your underwear and pulled as hard as he could. You screamed and tried to get out of his hold, but all he did was push his knee against your back to keep you against the outside of the couch, with your face almost on the floor. He let you continue kicking your legs— it barely did anything anyway. 

“Stop it! Neil!” You cried, screaming even louder. You wished at least one of your parents was home right now, but of course they just had to have a date night. 

“You need to watch your fucking mouth when you’re talking to me, nerd.” He punctuated his warning with another forceful tug. 

“Let go! You’re hurting me— let go!” You yelled as you flailed, trying to escape the pain. He ignored you and kept pulling until tears were burning your eyes. After a while, he let go and yanked you up by your hair, using the momentum to throw you backwards so you were now laying on the couch. When he sat on your chest you finally understood. “No— Neil, no! Please, don’t! I’m sorry!” Your begging fell on deaf ears. The first pull for the frontal wedgie had you screaming as your tears finally fell. 

“Stop it! Neil, I’m sorry— please stop!” You cried, voice breaking with the tears. 

“Do you ever stop talking?” He asked with annoyance and you didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. He continued with that until you were sobbing and incoherently begging him to stop. When he stood up, you thought he was finally giving you mercy, but that hope was gone in an instant as he pulled you to your feet. He grabbed the leg holes on either side of your hips and started bouncing you up and down, stretching it more and more as you cried loudly, pleading with him to stop. You’ve never felt pain like this before in your entire life. 

Once your underwear was level with your chest, he maneuvered your arms through each leg hole and pulled harder, stretching them even more so they were resting on your shoulders. When he dragged you by your hair, your crying got even more intense. He finally landed at the door to his room and shoved you inside. 

“I’m gonna watch you clean my room and you’re not going to take that off unless you want me to hang you up somewhere overnight.” 

“Neil, I’m sorry.” You whimpered through the sobs. “I’ll clean it— just please,” Neil looked around the room, picking up the first thing he saw; a pair of boxers on his bed. You had no idea if they were clean or dirty and you also had no idea what he was planning on doing with them, so you took a step away from him in fear. 

“Open up, nerd.” He walked toward you and you staggered back even more, finally understanding his plan. 

“No— I won’t say anything. Or cry. I’ll be quiet.” You begged, letting out a choked sob when he forced the fabric in your mouth anyway. He stuffed all of it past your lips, then gave you a light slap on your cheek, making you flinch. 

“Start cleaning.” He smirked, walking back over to the bed and laying propped up by his pillows, relaxing as if he was getting ready to watch his favorite film. 

You knew Neil liked films, especially old ones… but you just found them so incredibly boring. You do your best to get out of watching any with him, but this time it didn’t work. So you were sitting next to him on the couch, trying to pay attention. All the film succeeded in doing was making you even more sleepy. 

“Are you even watching?” Your eyes snapped open as soon as you heard him. 

“Y-yes. I am— I’m watching.” He scoffed, clearly not believing you. “I’m sorry, Neil. It won’t happen again.” 

“No. You know what? If you don’t want to watch, that’s fine by me.” Your stomach was already churning at just the thought of where he was going with this. Before you even had time to react he was pushing you down onto the couch and sitting on your upper back with your arms raised by your head, unable to bring them down. 

“I said I’m sorry!” You started kicking and trying to buck him off of you, but he was undeterred. “Neil, please!” Your words cut off into a scream when he used all of his strength to pull your underwear up. No matter how hard you cried or struggled, he kept pulling, leaning back and using his body weight to get more force. He only stopped once he needed more room. 

Making sure he was holding down your arms with his legs, he shuffled backwards over your head until he was sitting on the couch close enough where if you lifted your head, your face would be inches from his crotch. As soon as you tried squirming away, he yanked on your underwear again, making your body go limp from the pain as you cried. You kept your face buried in the couch, not able to move it anywhere else, but it was getting hard to breathe with how much you were sobbing. You kicked and screamed uselessly, unable to do anything other than take it. 

“Lift your head, nerd.” You kept your face firmly against the couch, which prompted him to roughly fist your hair and yank your head back. He shuffled forward because he knew that once he let go of your hair, you wouldn’t be able to put your head back down without it going in his crotch. He kept pulling and you kept crying, your sounds much louder now. 

Without any warning, he pulled hard enough to lift your hips off the couch, then put the fabric over your head, covering your forehead and eyes. 

“Stop it!” You cried, trying to pull your hands out from under him, but he wouldn’t budge. “Take it off! Please take it off,” Your sobbing intensified, making him laugh loudly. 

“You didn’t want to watch. Now you don’t have to.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“I’m sorry! Please take it off— it hurts!” 

“What hurts? This?” He leaned over you and you screamed again when his crotch pushed against your face, forcing you to smell his musk. The scream only got louder when he grabbed the underwear from above your lower back and pulled a few times. After a few seconds, he sat back down on the couch and resumed the movie. “Don’t be such a cry baby.” 

Part 2

(Part 2 will be a lil smuttier btw 😼)

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @theoraekenslover @kaorisakamotofan @scorpiussage @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @aviamulier @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @nashja @xxorazz @halleysc6met @crunchsworld @babaohhhriley @deceitfuldevout @gentyleman @lorelais-world @shroombloom-rry @pinguwrites @thatonesinglefriend @bernelflo @milktert @nyxxie.pooh @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @milkytomura @bigbossbabysworld @sheisthedxrkness @hanawrites404 @ll4n4 @madeinuk @hanawrites404

[genericpuff]

Familiarity in the Unknown - The Book Written by Tiny Paws

So there's this story you may or may not be aware of. It's about a rat who, despite being a rat, expresses a deep love for creating and cooking, often through unorthodox means and yet - throughout the unorthodox - compels us to think about the virtue of art and our own place in the world.

I know, completely absurd concept, why would a rat be cooking? It's ridiculous - but absolutely beautiful in its execution and simplicity. Our main character exists within a world that is treacherous, endlessly massive, occupied by strange creatures that could hurt him - even kill him - where good food and joy is hard to come by and living for oneself is against the tenets of his society's herd-mentality - but he is able to persevere and break through the difficulties of this world through his joy for food, for cooking, for the fire and smells, for satisfying his curiosity of the unknown, for expressing himself through the creation of art and, subsequently, for the love of the community and friendship that only grows in response to his sincerity.

Who am I kidding though, you know who I'm talking about, I don't need to keep patronizing you with wordplay and flowery descriptions. I'm obviously talking about The Book Written by Tiny Paws-

The Book Written by Tiny Paws isn't really a comic that I found so much as it found me in my daily scroll through my feed of notifications, featured in a user-submitted post to the /r/webtoons subreddit, discussing their newest update. There are a lot of comics that get promo'd in these communities and for the most part, none of them really ever compel me to read them, usually due to elements outside of the creator's control - they aren't a genre I'm interested in, the art style isn't gripping me, I'm just not in the mood to pick up anything new, etc.

But every now and then, something breaks through my own mentally enclosed barrier and reaches the innermost parts of my brain. And strangely enough, this time around, it was this little guy:

I did not know his name. I did not know what species he was supposed to be. I mean, he looks like a rat at first glance, but he also has little webbed feet like a platypus. I didn't even really pay much attention to what he was saying at first - all I could look at was his sincere little face. And once I snapped out of the cuteness hypnosis and read his dialogue, I suddenly found myself already hooked even before I read a single page. I wasn't sure what to expect, just so long as I could see more of this cute little guy.

By the end of the 9 episodes it had available at the time, not only was I more in love with this tiny creature than I was when I started, but I had the realization that this was going to be one of those rare, magical occasions when a piece of work would grab me and refuse to let go.

The Book Written by Tiny Paws is, to put it simply, a story about a creature known as "Firemaker" trying to find his way back to his herd after being separated from them during a flood so devastating that it drowns the earth beneath its waters. We are shown immediately the nature of this world - barren, bleak, cruel - but Firemaker describes it with the curiosity and wonder of a child experiencing all of it for the first time.

We're also immediately introduced to another core character - a stranger named "Vagabond" who does not seem to belong to a herd.

From its first two pages alone, The Book Written by Tiny Paws exceeds in what many comics struggle to do - it not only introduces us to its main character through his personality alone, but presents us the creator's approach to storytelling and worldbuilding: familiarity in the unknown.

Throughout each episode, alongside Firemaker, Vagabond, and the others who come and go throughout the world, we learn about how this world operates, and how they have been surviving in it. We learn that the flooding is actually a regular enough occurrence that creatures like Firemaker count their ages by how many rains they've survived. We learn that there are other creatures described only by their physical traits, and are left only with our own assumptions based on their word choice and imagination as to what they're referring to. There isn't any sign of human life, but human-like intelligence is present as creatures like Firemaker and Vagabond are able to communicate, count, multiply, use tools, and, as we see above with Firemaker, make logical connections between cause and effect (even if they're initially wrong).

Many of these concepts are familiar to us, if not absolutely mundane and outdated, but through the eyes of Firemaker and Vagabond, we get to see those same concepts re-contextualized in a world that is unlike our own. In this way, The Book Written by Tiny Paws asks us to re-explore the mundane through the eyes of creatures that rely on our privileges for their survival.

And when it's not re-contextualizing, it's introducing us to new concepts entirely that make this story and its world feel wholly unique. One such unique concept is the way in which they count - a system of multiplication through simple geometry.

It should be mentioned, before I get in any further - the creator of this work, Nolinno, proclaims themselves as "more of a physicist than an artist", and while I do believe they're not giving themselves enough credit for the art (which I will get into soon), their passion for physics shows immensely, showcasing not only their love for learning, but their affinity for teaching as well. It takes someone who really knows their stuff to be able to explain it as simply as possible for the layman such as myself to understand - and even then, not everyone who is well-trained in their field of study can necessarily teach it well - and yet Nolinno has done an extraordinary job so far of explaining their story's concepts in ways that are both simple to grasp and rewarding to master. Specifically, they reward the readers' ability to retain information and engage with it through their own conclusions, largely by creating opportunities in the text for that information to become relevant.

One of the earliest examples of this is when Vagabond initially reveals his age to be what first-time readers will assume is the number '11', and from there we can assume that '11 rains' must be significant as Firemaker seems astounded by this.

But then, we immediately find out that Firemaker himself hasn't learned to count that high, prompting Vagabond to teach him how to count higher than 3, which is when we get to learn the actual details of that aforementioned counting system built on multiplication and geometry.

It's through this explanation that we learn that Vagabond isn't 11, but the text doesn't explicitly tell us - it asks us as readers to instead follow along with Vagabond's teachings and come to our own answer.

And so, I'm not going to tell you the answer here either! There's a top comment on this particular episode that's gotten it right (as confirmed by the creator like a very proud elementary school teacher, awww), but consider that more of an answer key if you want to know if you got the correct answer. And if you feel like Vagabond's explanation here is too limited or you want more examples, nothing to fear - Nolinno has given us a study guide!

What I adore about this is that as much as I'm intimidated by mathematical concepts like this, I genuinely appreciate when a creator puts in the effort to establish ground rules like this, and in such a natural, sincere way. It challenges you just enough to compel you to try, but not so much that it's completely alienating or overwhelming.

And thanks to Firemaker's characterization, we don't feel so alone in learning these concepts, either. Firemaker's own inexperience on account of being only "three times three" years old (he's 9!) he makes a perfect surrogate for the audience to learn about the world through him. This isn't an uncommon storytelling trick, but can often come at the expense of the character's own personality - after all, if a character is constantly having to be a surrogate for the audience, it can lead to them becoming more of a blank slate without any voice - but Nolinno has accomplished that balance perfectly through Firemaker's curiosity and vulnerability. Firemaker being 9 years old and still inexperienced doesn't rob him of his own skills - more so, it's clear that he's fulfilled a specific role for his pack, and now that he's been separated from them, he's now having to learn the skills that were likely reserved for other members of his pack.

This also makes him a perfect foil to Vagabond, a creature whose past is still shrouded in mystery but is clearly experienced and can act as the parental figure or "older brother" to Firemaker - but we're always left wondering why Firemaker has left his pack, and whether or not those survival tactics were taught to him through his pack or learned the hard way after leaving. It ultimately leaves us wondering what Vagabond's true motives are, and whether or not he can be trusted as a role model to Firemaker. Fortunately, nothing so far has made me or even Firemaker doubt his capabilities or motives, even earning himself a new name-

-but in a world so unpredictable, who's to say that Vagabond's own motives are entirely pure?

After all, as we soon learn, not all creatures are kind in this world.

Again, in case it needs reminding - Firemaker is nine. Though 9 years old for a rat-platypus creature may not be equivalent to 9 years old for a human, it is still very much communicated to us through the narrative that he is a child and, as such, is going to have his safety threatened in this world the same way a child often would in our own - through the cruel actions of untrustworthy adults.

But, as I mentioned already, Firemaker is never made to be the constant ball and chain of the pair. Though he may just now be learning how to count and multiply higher than 3, he's earned his name through his own particular skills that can be used to not only save himself from starvation, but save others from ambush through the use of smoke signals.

Of course, as much as I can gush about the narrative, I also wouldn't forgive myself if I neglected to mention its art style which, despite being created by one person who claims to not be much of an artist, wonderfully complements its theme and tone. I would go so far as to argue that this is one of those stories that just simply wouldn't work as effectively as it does if it had a full color art style. The contrast of black and white between the environment and its characters, as well as the simplicity of the character designs against the more detailed designs of the architecture and props, makes for a brilliant visual presentation that - like the worldbuilding - expresses itself clearly without overcomplicating anything. Through its art - just like through its writing - it asks us to try and find familiarity in the unknown.

And best of all, when things do get complicated-

-it harshly reminds us how quickly a simple and beautiful thing can turn ugly and cruel.

Even though it was initially Firemaker's cutesy little face that suckered me in, the worldbuilding that Nolinno has expertly crafted through their own knowledge and affinity for teaching others has stolen the show. And that's a quality that I find is quite rare in fantasy works nowadays, but just like the culinary arts of that other rat who's far more well-known, it came from a completely unexpected place.

Nolinno has accomplished what I find a lot of budding fantasy writers struggle with - they have successfully created a world that is full of its own unique qualities, and communicated it clearly to their audience in a way that is both engaging and rewarding. Unlike others who often put the lore before the story - usually by dumping every bit of exposition, conlang definition, map and political chart on their readers before they've had a chance to even read the first page or know the main character's name, often out of fear that all their prep work will have been "wasted" if they don't reveal all of it immediately - Nolinno simply shows us their world and its inhabitants as they are, without the need to justify itself, and invites you to join along at your own pace, with helpful little bits of knowledge communicated through the narrative to help you find your way. It's okay if you're not entirely certain of how this world works, because you're not travelling alone - so too are Firemaker and Knower finding their way.

As someone who was raised on the works of Jeff Smith (BONE) and Bill Watterson (Calvin and Hobbes), and even found their own passion for fantasy writing through both comics and video games like The Legend of Zelda, I have a lot of appreciation for stories like this that can be appreciated by all age demographics, and I've found myself almost disillusioned by the current landscape of conveyer-belt media today that often fails to live up to even a fraction of what we remember existing 20 years ago, existing only to pad a rich executive's bottom line. This has only been further exacerbated by the advent of generative AI that's now threatening the integrity and livelihood of artists both within the industry and outside of it.

Suffice to say, just like the world that Firemaker inhabits in The Book Written by Tiny Paws, our world is very bleak right now. Even still, its characters still find their moments for joy, for rest, and for play, and the comic in and of itself reminds me through its existence that there are still wonderful works being made that are capable of making me feel as curious and excited as I did when I was reading BONE cover-to-cover at the age of 12.

Those moments and those stories feel harder to come by than ever, but I'm happy to say that The Book Written by Tiny Paws is one of them, new memories that I'm happy to have made and am eager to continue to make - familiarity in the unknown.

[kyph3r]

BOYFRIEND NAMJOON HCS ♡

paring: bf!namjoon x fem!reader

genre: established relationship, fluff, smut

AN: my first post 😭😭😭 hopefully people like this!! also this is like barely edited so if there are any grammar mistakes i'm so sorry

SFW HCS-

• when you guys first start dating it's kinda awkward, but as time goes by he gets better

• loves going on dates with you, favorite places to go would definitely be the museum or just a stroll around a park, loves being in your presence

• sitting down and having long drawn out conversations would also be something he enjoys, probably one of the reasons you got together

• his confession was probably a scramble of words, him cutting himself off and stuttering until you grabbed him and said you felt the same way

• will accidentally just sit and stare at you, no conversation at all and be very embarrassed when you catch him

• “joonie, is there something on my face, why are you staring at me like that?” “oh uh there's nothing on your face, i was just zoning out” and his face is beet red

• after all of the awkwardness he becomes very flirty and bold, it kinda knocks you off guard

• will come up to you and flirt just to see you get flustered, finds it very amusing

• loves using pet names, baby and princess being his favorites, but when he hears you calling him something sweet, a part of him melts

• the word baby comes out your mouth and suddenly he's blushing, kicking his feet in the air like a schoolgirl

• has a jealous streak, if someone looks at you for a second too long he's immediately pulling you closer to him

• not very fond of pda but if he sees someone interested in you or if he is just too needy he'll give you little pecks or put his arm around your waist

• he's just such a gentleman, doing all the basic stuff like giving you his jacket, holding the door open for you, pulling your chair out, it's very endearing

NSFW HCS-

• kinda perverted, you could do be doing the most mundane thing like stretching and he'd already be getting hard

• was very embarrassed about this in the first stages of you guys dating but once he saw that you were just as needy for him his whole attitude changed

• definitely a dom, but focused more on your pleasure than anything else

• likes saying nasty stuff in your ear like “you were just made to take it, huh?” and “listen to yourself, already dumb and i'm not even close to being finished with you” and watching your reaction

• likes getting on top of you and caging you in with his arms, thinks it's cute that you have nowhere else to look but at him

• but also really likes you being on top of him, watching you struggle to ride him and get yourself off, it always ends with him grabbing your hips and doing it for you

• secretly likes making you all worked up and desperate, he’ll walk in before he has to go somewhere and whisper dirty things in your ear, grabbing your hips and kissing all over you, then just leave like he didn't just make you insanely horny

• he always makes it up to you though by fucking you into the mattress when he gets back dw

• always gets harder when you start whining and begging for him, he hears you moan “joonie it's not enough, i need it inside, faster!” and he snaps, folding you in half

• is definitely the type to moan and groan, especially when he's close

• he'll let out little choked noises and start saying the sweetest things in your ears, totally different from the way he's pounding in to you

• while he is usually very rough, he knows when to take it easier on you and can always flip the switch from domineering to caring

• you tell him you've had a rough day and he'll do whatever he can to make you feel better, whether that be eating you out until you forget about what happened or slowly making love to you

• aftercare with him is always sweet, he's always gentle with handling you and will whisper thank yous into your ear until you fall asleep

[youmakemyhearthowl]

The first time Steve and Eddie actually get to hang out alone after all things Upside Down have been handled, Eddie leaves feeling justified in the fact that to him Steve Harrington is still a stuck up snob. It isn’t until after he runs his dilemma past Uncle Wayne that it really starts to set in that maybe, maybe Eddie was being the stuck up snob and not Steve.

“He’s got a point Ed’s.” He says it in that soft tone he only uses when he knows he’s saying something that might upset Eddie.

“What? Wayne you’re supposed to be on my side here.” Eddie’s arms fly out as he speaks, shooting a glare at his Uncle.

“Eddie, you of all people know how hard it can be to find your place, especially as a freshman, and basketball is important to Lucas. It was kinda a dick move the way you responded to them boys asking if they could postpone your game for one night.” Eddie let out a groan at his words, his face falling onto the table with a loud thud.

“We don’t postpone Hellfire Uncle Wayne. It’s literally never happened in the years I’ve run it, I wasn’t about to do it for a stupid fucking basketball game.” Wayne grunts.

“And that’s where your problem lies Eddie. It wasn’t some “stupid game” not for Lucas. It was important, and you brushed him aside and punished him for having an interest you don’t agree with. Which is exactly what everyone else was doing to you about your dragons game.” Eddie’s head snapped up his eyes landing on Wayne, wide and suddenly a little glassy. Because Wayne had a point. He had a really important point that Eddie hadn’t even stopped to really consider before. Which, fuck it was the exact point Steve had been trying to make, but Steve had a hard time with words and talking about feelings, he’d fumbled over them and stoped and started his explanation so many times that Eddie had just gotten mad and annoyed and didn’t really even try to listen.

And Eddie had been mean to Steve. Telling him to stop stuttering over it and to just “Spit it out Harrington, Jesus it’s not like it should be hard for you to be an asshole about my hobbies.”

Fuck Eddie was a dick. He’d been a dick to Lucas and Dustin and Mike too when they’d just wanted one night to support their best friend and he threatened to just kick them out of the club if they bailed. He’d acted just like the people he detested at school, the bullies and the jocks.

He had some apology’s to make.

Standing abruptly Eddie squeezed Wayne in a quick embrace whispering his thanks as he scrambled out the door of the trailer to his van.

His first stop needed to be the kids, because honestly, he wasn’t even sure where to start with his apology to Steve.

Because Eddie had been hanging out with Steve for weeks now in the group. Him, Robin, Steve, Nance and Jonathan as well as Argyle, hung out almost everyday. And Eddie knew Steve. Knew how fiercely he loved his friends and those kids, and how he tended to not talk a lot in big group settings because he always struggled to find the right words to articulate what he wanted to say. Needed extra time to sit on them to get them out the right way, and would shut down as soon as someone talked over him because he was taking too long.

Fuck.

The first time they’d finally gotten to hang out alone, Eddie had been so excited to really pick Steve’s brain, let him talk and give him the space to find the words or ask questions he needed to. And Steve and him had been having a great time until Steve had brought up the championship game. Stumbling and trying to tell Eddie that Lucas had felt isolated from the group now and like sometimes he didn’t fit with them anymore because Eddie had been a little mean to him because he was a basketball player too. And Steve hadn’t even been mean to Eddie about it either. Now that he thought about the few sentences Steve had been able to tumble through. Throwing in ‘I know you love that game and it’s important to you and the kids look up to you so much man, they love you.” And Eddie has just been an absolute monster back because he just assumed Steve was still King Steve and had been waiting and biding his time to come at Eddie. Fuck.

What was he even supposed to say to Steve now? He’d tried so hard to always make sure Steve felt he could still speak , make him feel safe and comfortable around Eddie and never stupid, because Eddie watched and paid attention to Steve way too much (it’s not a crush shut up) and then he’d just gone and ripped that rug out from under the poor guy, for standing up for his kids. Their kids.

“Eddie? What are you doing here man?” Lucas’s voice pulled Eddie out of his head as he parked the van in front of the Sinclair house, where Lucas, El and Dustin were apparently attempting to learn how to skateboard from Max.

“Hey uh, can we talk for a second man?” Eddie hadn’t felt this nervous since DMing his first campaign. Lucas nodded, coming over to stand next to Eddie who’d gotten out of the van and was leaning against the side now, arms crossed over his chest.

“Listen, I wanted to apologize. For how I acted in Hellfire, about you being on the basketball team.” He watches Lucas’s face closely, a look of surprise crossing the younger boy's face before he composes it.

“It’s cool Eddie, I mean I get it.”

“Nah man, listen. I was a royal dick to you. You were just trying to find your footing in high school and I didn’t make it any easier for you and that wasn’t cool of me. You’re always gonna be one of my lost sheep, and a member of Hellfire, and you’re allowed to have more than one interest . I shouldn’t have let my own insecurities and biases let me treat you like that. And I’m really sorry man.” He watched a myriad of emotions cross Lucas’s face before he settled on a small but happy smile.

“Well thank you Eddie. That really means a lot to me man. Hellfire’s really important to me. You are too. So thank you.” His smile grows as he speaks, before giving Eddie a quick hug and then running back off to join the others in their lessons. A sigh of relief makes Eddie’s whole body Sag.

One down, Steve to go.

Part Two here

[play-rough]

Happy Birthday Dazai 🥺🤧🩵

I really wanted to have the next classification au finished by Dazai’s birthday, but it just didn’t happen rip

So here’s a chunk of chapter one under the readmore instead! Since it’s a wip, everything below is subject to change 🩵 tw for child abuse and s/h (i know it’s Dazai but it’s more directly referenced idk idk) also let me know if something is incomprehensible because now’s the time to fix it haha 🩵🩵

Thanks everyone for enjoying and encouraging my work 🩵 I hope we have all have a wonderful Dazai birthday celebration 🩵🎉

The first thing that Dazai hears is the sound of writing tools scratching against papers. Someone is at a desk working.

Dazai whines, tongue pressing against something rubber on the edge of his mouth. He recognizes his pacifier after a second, almost falling out. With a quick flick of his tongue, the soother is back in Dazai’s mouth, and he clamps his teeth around it to keep it in place.

The pen against the table paper is a nice soundtrack while Dazai sucks on his pacifier. He feels small, but also something else. More detached than he’s been before, but weirdly less panicked.

He’s not sure who’s writing at the desk, and logically he knows that if he’s resting on a couch, and there’s someone writing at a desk, he could be in Mori’s office.

For some reason, that’s not something that worries Dazai right now, and opening his sleepy eyes a bit to observe his surroundings proves him right. He is in an office, but the Port Mafia’s boss isn’t the one working quietly.

A familiar orange floods Dazai’s vision, and he doesn’t even have to focus and pay attention to know it’s Chuuya.

Dazai whimpers softly, and holds out grabby hands towards the direction of the sounds. The only thing Dazai hears is a soft sigh, but no chairs scraping against floors or footsteps towards a sad baby.

His arms start to get tired, and cold, so Dazai tucks them back against his side. He whines louder instead, hoping to snag Chuuya’s attention.

“Dazai,” Chuuya huffs. “I played with you all morning.”

Dazai bites his pacifier, and then he opens his eyes fully to look at Chuuya.

Chibi is hunched over a desk that’s piled several feet high with paperwork. Despite seeing this, Dazai can’t stop himself as he mewls out another whimper being his paci.

“Dazai.” Chuuya says sternly, and it causes any remaining sounds to die in his throat. “I’m busy. Can’t you go bother someone else?”

He can’t, Dazai only wants Chuuya. His mind is full of memories of being held and rocked to sleep. It makes Dazai wonder why he’s ever fought regressing so hard in the first place. Chuuya’s hands make him feel like jelly, and Dazai can’t help but melt and become putty in his grasp. It’s so nice, and Chuuya feels so warm and safe.

Dazai can’t help but let out another sad whine.

“Fuck, fine,” Chuuya grumbles out, and he couldn’t possibly sound less enthusiastic. Dazai is suddenly sitting in his lap in the blink of an eye, but there’s no back pats or rocking, to his disappointment. “Just stop crying, you’re giving me a headache.”

Dazai can’t stop, he just got started, and doesn’t Chuuya know how long his tantrums go on?

“Stop, I’m holding you aren’t I? Would you rather have a time out?”

That makes Dazai freeze in place, he hates timeouts. He’s suddenly overwhelmed with feelings of boredom and loneliness, so he bites down on his pacifier and grips Chuuya’s shirt, willing the crying to stop.

Dazai can’t, though, as hard as he tries the tears keep coming, and he can’t calm down. Especially not with Chuuya shouting every five seconds.

“Just stop, Dazai,” Chuuya snaps. “You’re being a nuisance!”

The harsh words sting, and also come with a sudden shove. Dazai tries to hang on to Chuuya, but the shirt slips from his grasp, and he falls off of his caretaker’s lap and into inky darkness.

The falling sensation seems to last forever, until Dazai finally opens his eyes with a frantic gasp. He can’t breathe for a good few moments, struggling for air as his stomach flips. It takes an embarrassing amount of time to put together that he’s had a nightmare.

Dazai lays on his bed for a long time, chest hiccupping and stuttering uncontrollably. He feels like crying, no doubt leftover feelings from his dream.

He breathes unsteadily, in and out around his pointer and index finger, nibbling softly at his nails. Dazai must have slipped his fingers into his mouth at some point during the nightmare.

At least, Dazai hoped it was during the nightmare, and he hadn’t slept with his fingers in his mouth all night. He was dreaming of sucking on a pacifier, and the shame he feels tells him that he’s probably been doing this for a while.

Indulging this isn’t going to get him anywhere, it’s his worst habit. While comforting temporarily, it ultimately just makes him feel closer to headspace. Counterproductive, Dazai doesn’t want to drop, so he needs to get his fingers out of his mouth.

Despite telling himself this, Dazai has to forcibly take his hand away, and he definitely feels the loss of comfort when an emptiness washes over him. Stupid. Dazai is so pathetic and stupid.

It’s morning, and his whole day is already ruined by a stupid dream. Dazai feels empty and clingy, a familiar feeling that makes him want attention.

Staring up at the rusty ceiling, his eyes follow a small leak. A drip of water falls a few inches from his head every few moments, and Dazai watches it like seconds ticking away on a clock.

This gets boring very quickly, and boredom only lets Dazai’s thoughts run wild. His nightmare is the only thing in the front of his mind.

You’re being a nuisance!

Dream Chuuya was right, of course. Dazai was a nuisance.

Even if in his dreams he doesn’t remember, Dazai knows why he has to fight it, why he can’t just let go and trust Chuuya will catch him every time he falls.

Chuuya’s not going to be around forever. Flashes of Dazai being shoved away, Chibi’s look of disgust as Dazai calls out for his attention. It reminded Dazai of the face Chuuya made when he bit Tsu. Chuuya is capable of disgust and rage and loathing and Dazai knows one day this softness will end. His partner will grow tired of how difficult he is. Everyone eventually figures out that Dazai isn’t worth the time, the effort, or the headaches.

Dazai rolls over in a huff, hoping to end this train of thought. Wallowing in self pity was another terrible quality of his.

When Dazai’s ear hits the mattress, an uncomfortable ache travels down the side of his face. The pain is a surprise, but it’s also incredibly fast, leaving almost as soon as it starts.

Once that’s over, Dazai still can’t get comfortable. His next distraction is a crawling feeling across his skin. It’s not the worst pain he’s ever felt, but it’s enough to make him forget about his ear for now.

Dazai is no stranger to feeling uncomfortable in his skin, and usually the bandages help. Dazai’s arms are a mess, nights spent doing things he doesn’t want to think about and then weeks following picking things back open whenever he gets nervous. The soft bandages at least keep the sensitive injured skin from rubbing against clothing.

But today, it feels like electricity is sparking up and down every inch of himself, and the bandages itch horribly. Dazai runs a palm up and down his forearm roughly, and it helps the icky feeling for a moment.

Just a moment, though. The second Dazai stops scratching it comes back, maybe even worse than before with the added irritation from disturbing injuries under the bandages.

Everything is uncomfortable this morning. Even the bits of sunlight peeking through cracks in his crate, shining and hitting his eyes. Dazai squints and whines, rubbing his eyes, and then scratching at his other arm.

These bandages are a few days old. Chuuya is always harping on him to change them, and Dazai does. But he’s also thrifty, and a recycler, so there’s a lot of flipping and rewrapping going on. He probably just needs to rewrap his arms and change into something fresh.

Changing his bandages isn’t as easy as it sounds, though. For one thing, Dazai is pretty sure he’s out, so he’s got to get more from the store. Before he can even get to the store, he’s got to get up and get out of bed. Getting out of bed seems impossible. It’s cold.

Really he should just be glad that he doesn’t have to drag himself to the Port Mafia today. He should have been able to lounge in bed all day, recover from a restless night of tossing and turning through nightmares. It’s just his luck that a day when he should be free to lay in bed all day is halted by a need for something stupid like bandages. This is another problem that Dazai has created all by himself, he can’t stop fucking things up, and he can’t avoid punishment, but he’s not responsible enough to keep some stupid bandages around.

Dazai really isn’t good for anything, a barely functioning burden on everyone. He’s a nuisance.

It’s that hatred burning in his tummy that finally gets him to throw the blanket off of himself in a sudden motion, letting it slump onto the floor. From there, a full body shiver sparks up and down his thin form, and it’s a good thing he’s alone. His body lets out a pathetic whimper, and that’s the cherry on top of Dazai’s motivation-cake to get moving. The sooner he gets his bandages, the sooner he can lay down again.

Dazai considers changing his clothes before heading out, last night ended with him falling asleep in his dress pants and white button up again. But, a new set of clothes would be cold, his body heat has made these ones just barely tolerable. It seems pointless when Dazai already had his shoes on, it’s easier just to throw Mori’s coat over his shoulders and leave.

At least if Dazai is walking, he’ll be warmer.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Dazai’s container is out of the way of pretty much everything. This is of course, by design. If Dazai wanted to be within easy access, he’d just live in the Port Mafia dorms. Or better yet, sleep under Mori’s desk, so the boss could use him as a footrest.

No, the shipping container is safe and hidden in plain sight. Surrounded by hundreds of others that look just like it, miles and miles from the Port Mafia.

Also several miles from the nearest drug store.

Actually, there’s one about a mile away from the shipping yard, but if Dazai is spotted there enough, you could theorize that he lives in that surrounding area. That was far too close for Dazai’s comfort, he always tried to avoid the stores that would be considered in his ‘neighborhood.’

He started today off terribly, letting himself be bothered by a stupid nightmare. Dazai should have never left his bed, and this is evident on the walk to the store. Every step makes Dazai’s skin hurt even worse, the cold biting and the textures of his clothes chafing.

Scratching is really all he can do, even if the relief is quickly fleeting. Dazai isn’t sure how long he has to walk, but his joints feel sore. The air is dry, and it makes him realize that at some point his sinuses have begun to hurt. Dazai swallows, feeling his ears pop.

That’s how Dazai continues on all the way to a drug store about a half a mile from the Port Mafia. Swallowing and scratching, willing all these uncomfortable feelings to go away. Dazai brings a hand up to tug on one of his ears as he enters through the automatic doors, hopefully the swap from outside dry air to inside artificial air will help.

Tugging on his ear certainly doesn’t, and Dazai winces at another uncomfortable pop that makes his jaw ache, and goes back to scratching his forearms instead.

The store was big, and there was no large blinking arrow directing Dazai to the bandages. Frankly stupid design choice, and Dazai suddenly remembers his hatred for being out in public.

A store clerk looks like she’s about to acknowledge Dazai, perceiving him even, and he makes a beeline for the back isles. If he walks with purpose, she will assume he doesn’t need help.

Dazai may need help though, because by some miracle he’s found the medical section, with every kind of dressings and ointment except for his. Only the sticky bandages seem to be sold at this drug store.

He searches through surrounding isles, and he’s starting to get a bit frustrated. An ugly feeling sparks in his chest and makes his stomach churn, his face is starting to feel hot and he wants to stomp his foot when something catches Dazai’s attention instead. It’s a colorful display of pastels out of the corner of his eye.

Dazai came here for a reason. He needs bandages. But he’s only been awake for a few hours and today is already so hard, so Dazai’s discipline and focus maybe isn’t the best right now.

There’s a display of baby blankets at the end of one of the isles. Dazai is frozen in place, staring at them. For a moment, it feels like the world stops, until his arm starts itching again.

That’s right. Bandages.

Dazai can feel his cheeks flushing as he stares at the blankies, a different uncomfortable warmth that makes him squirm in shame instead of wanting to throw a fit. He needs to keep looking for bandages, he’s not here to waste time, but he can’t turn his attention away.

He can’t stop himself, his body moves on its own as he takes a few steps towards the display. The blankets look soft. There’s all kinds of colors, but right in front of Dazai is a pastel pink.

Dazai does not have a favorite color. Sometimes if he’s given choices between objects, he goes for a blue, like Chuuya’s eyes. Or, since he really can’t be bothered, he chooses whichever item is closer.

Dazai has never really had the opportunity to choose a pastel pink, and now it’s also the closest one right in front of him. The color was… sweet. It made Dazai think of starfish, and strawberries, and other things that make him feel mushy inside.

Before he knows it, Dazai has spent who knows how long trembling in front of the blankets, like a starving animal looking at food in an obvious trap. Dazai can feel how hot his face is, and he knows he must be beet red. He needs to leave, Dazai has no business standing here in front of a blankie display, but his feet are glued into place.

Dazai isn’t sure what he should be more ashamed over, the fact that he’s wasted so much time fawning over a stupid object, or the fact that the object in question was a pink blanket.

It almost makes him want to throw up thinking about it. It looked like something Mori would get for Elise, a frivolous waste. Dazai was better than that, he didn’t need anything like blankets and toys.

Fishie didn’t count.

He doesn’t dare to reach out and touch the item. If he did, Dazai knew it would all be over. It’s tempting just to flip it over, and view the price, but he knows better.

How expensive could a piece of fabric even be? It’s not like Dazai doesn’t have the money. And blankets are a normal thing to own, not just for babies.

Chuuya owns blankets. Lots of them. Dazai has one blanket, and it’s pretty threadbare, so one could even argue that he was just getting some home necessities. That’s not a crime.

Dazai entertains this idea for half a second, but it’s quickly tossed aside. A small baby blanket isn’t going to make a difference on the cold windy nights. There’s no point.

Besides, this thing was so pathetic, and if Dazai wants to be seen as an adult, he needs to act like one. If Chuuya found out he bought a blankie, Dazai would never hear the end of it.

Of course, he could always keep it hidden under his mattress. The Slug would never know, and then Dazai would have something to cuddle at night in his container.

Dazai’s stomach flips, realizing where his thoughts had gone. Not okay. He quickly pinches himself, up near his inner elbow, for some kind of negative reinforcement. Punishment is the only way he learns.

Dazai doesn’t need something to cuddle at night, just like he doesn’t need to suck on his fingers, and he doesn’t need to regress.

Not to mention that if someone saw him, word would get back to the boss so fast. He could always say it was a gift for Elise, but then Dazai would have to give her his blankie. It’s an unfortunate series of events that makes him feel nauseous just thinking about it.

Dazai’s arms start itching again, and he doesn’t hesitate to scratch them. His joints have started to hurt again too, but he’s probably just tired from another restless night, and walking a few miles to the store didn’t help.

His nails rake up and down his arm, and then Dazai swaps hands after a moment. His cuts are starting to burn, and it makes Dazai want to itch them even more, but with every scratch it just gets worse and worse and worse.

He needs to stop. Something is gonna open up, and then Dazai is going to start bleeding. He’s going to have to deal with the eyes on him as he buys new bandages while actively spotting through his current ones.

If he gets blood on the blanket, he’ll have to buy it.

Dazai can’t entertain that string of thoughts for too long, because his phone suddenly goes off in his pocket. He answers quickly, in case it’s Mori, but the butterflies in his chest tell him it’s Chuuya.

I’m making a new pasta sauce recipe, if you want to try it.

Dazai has never been more thankful for Chuuya’s incredible timing (not even when Slug has shielded him from stray bullets). He’s invited over.

He doesn’t need an invitation, Dazai can do anything he wants, including showing up at Chuuya’s house unannounced. But the fact that he’s got a reminder that Chuuya doesn’t actually hate having him around temporarily makes him forget about his itchy skin and pressured sinuses.

This shopping trip has been a complete disaster, and Dazai hasn’t even figured out where his bandages of choice are kept in this stupid store. He couldn’t get past the stupid fucking blankets.

Without thinking about it, Dazai shoves his hands into his pocket, and marches out. Deep down, he feared that if he hadn’t left at that moment, Dazai would be walking to Chuuya’s house with a blanket tucked in his arms.

Instead, it’s better to pretend that Dazai’s trip to the drug store never happened. Chuuya has bandages he can steal, and Dazai does not need a blankie under any circumstances.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

When Dazai slips into the apartment, he can immediately tell Chuuya is in the kitchen. Chuuya isn’t quiet when he cooks, he bangs pots and pans around and laughs and swears. It’s easy to sneak up on Chibi standing by his stove, stirring something in a pot.

Dazai wants to tease, or make some kind of joke about if Chuuya could even see over the stove, but it dies on his tongue as he watches his partner cook for a few seconds. Chibi looks horribly domestic, stirring the pot and tapping his foot while humming a song Dazai doesn’t recognize.

It suddenly hits Dazai again that all of this is fleeting, and the joke dies on his tongue.

At this moment, Dazai doesn’t want to ruin this, like he’s ruined so many things before. He’s feeling weirdly clingy, and he knows indulging this is a mistake, but right now the attention Dazai is vying for isn’t negative. Most of the time, anything will do. Dazai will take scraps and crumbs of whatever Chibi will throw at him until he’s kicked out.

Today, Dazai doesn’t want to be kicked out. His box is cold, he’s out of bandages, and his skin hurts. Dazai just wants to sit on Chuuya’s couch and enjoy the warmth of a blanket that he doesn't have to have a crisis over.

Dazai just watches, until eventually Chuuya looks back over his shoulder.

[unhappy-last-resort]

Yandere Scar drabble (GN Reader)

Warnings: Yandere, Scar has a dick, implied nsfw/non-con, may be ooc, not proofread

You should've been wiser before traveling alone, you should've paid more attention to the rumors of Fractsidus activity in the area before you decided to set out on your venture. Then you wouldn't be in this position now, pinned against the wall of a crumbling house as Scar looks like he's on the verge of an unholy epiphany.

His eyes wide, a grin that could only be described as pure glee stretched his lips, his forte occasionally flashing at uneven intervals. What's he like when he overclocks, you wondered, although you guess there wouldn't be much wondering now.

His nails felt more like claws stabbing into your skin and threaten you not to move an inch. Without warning, Scar suddenly buries his face in your neck, inhaling deeply as if he was smelling the air for the first time.

"You smell nice..." He breathes, a visible shudder wracking through his body as he lingers by your neck. "So nice I can't help wanting more."

Before you have the chance to process what that could mean, something muscular and wet drags over your neck and freezes you in places. It's like every function of your body pauses simply to focus on that one sensation as you're left reeling.

He does it once, then twice, then thrice until he's lapping the skin like a dog desperate for water. His breathing becomes heavy and frantic and any regard he may have had for proximity is gone as his body presses against yours, an uncomfortable feeling of hard leather and an undeniable bulge pushes against you.

"Ah, I've been so busy lately. I can't find the time for myself." His voice comes out like a low rumble, an irritated growl, perhaps. His face slowly envelopes your vision, blocking out the houses of Qichi Village cloaked in a mourning grey.

"You understand, don't you?" It was worded like a plea, but his tone felt like a command. His eyes clouded with a mix of mania and lust as he stared unwaveringly into your eyes.

You had feared death, enough so that you hadn't spoken or moved once since your encounter as your mind played 100 Ways To Die, but now you wanted so badly to struggle and you couldn't. The greatest protest you could do was turn your head and you did so, biting hard into your trembling lip as you prayed for salvation or a miracle.

"Oh come on, don't be like that. You have my absolute honesty in that I won't hurt you, as long as you just play along." You could hear the smile in his voice like he was asking you for a small favor, something usual and noninvasive.

He chuckles, seemingly amused by your lack of response. "You know..." He whispers into your ear, breath tickling your skin. "The people who once lived here won't mind us making use of one of their beds."

Your head snapped to look at his face, shock and disgust caught in your throat as thick thorns blocked your airways. On the contrary, Scar seemed amused as he threw his head back in a fit of laughter, shoulders shaking and grip ironclad.

"Well, if you would prefer..." He grins and a pit settles into your stomach as a hand drags up your throat to hold your chin. "I don't mind going somewhere more private, just for the two of us." He smiles as the world around you burns away into a wall of cards.

[writeforfandoms]

Anxiety

Find my CoD masterlist

This one is angsty y’all. Read the warnings. Take care of yourselves. 

Simon "Ghost" Riley and Johnny "Soap" MacTavish and f!reader - pre-relationship. You're meeting the guys at a bar and run into someone from your past, launching you head-first into a panic attack. Secrets are unveiled.

Warnings: Panic attack, dissociation, trouble speaking, discussion of past sexual assault, discussion of past trauma, implied violence. 

But it ends happy, I promise. 

Word count: 2.9k

You settled back in your seat with a slow sigh, scanning the bar for your two friends. Soap had promised to meet you there, and Ghost had just grunted, which could go either way for him. But you had a feeling he’d show up. 

So now it was just a waiting game, to see how long they took to get ready. 

They better not be far behind you. They owed you a drink. 

The bar was quieter than you’d expected, playing slow jazz over the speakers, the constant chatter of voices and chink of glassware almost comforting. You relaxed back into the booth, rolling your shoulders. 

It had been a long week. A very long week. You knew you were not the only one eager to have a drink and relax for a bit. 

You spotted Ghost first, partially because of the balaclava he still wore in public, and partially because of his height. Then you saw Soap, standing next to Ghost as always. You waved, and Soap waved back. Ghost just nodded. The two got into line for the bar, and you could practically see them bantering back and forth. 

And then someone blocked your view. You scowled a little as you looked up at the man between you and your friends, and you went very still, heart tripping and then pumping triple time against your ribs. 

"Those your friends?" The man had a slightly cruel smirk, shoulders back and chest out to make himself look more impressive and take up more room. 

And he looked exactly like someone from your past, someone you had tried desperately to forget. 

"Yes." The answer was soft. You hadn't even meant to answer, but your brain had dissolved into white noise. It had been years. But still you couldn't focus, could barely think. 

"You could ditch them, come have fun with me." He smirked down at you, apparently thinking for whatever reason that made him more appealing. 

You didn't answer. You couldn't. Your brain was just… stuck. Stuck wondering if this was him, if he remembered. The way you couldn't forget. 

"Hey." He snapped his fingers in front of your face a couple times. "You wanna come or not?"

"Oi." Soap practically materialized next to the man, scowl in place. "Leave off." 

The man half-turned, mouth open to tell off Soap, and then froze as Ghost appeared behind Soap. The blood drained from his face and he nearly tripped over himself backing off.

"Bonnie?" Soap dropped in the seat next to you, and Ghost took the other side. "Hope you didn't know him." 

"No," you murmured, still floaty and untethered. Your heart wouldn't slow down, the static in your brain barely abating. "I don't… think so."

Ghost turned to you, and you could just see his frown under the balaclava. "Why didn't you chase him off? Never had a problem shouting down arseholes before." 

"Dunno." You dropped your gaze to the table, blinking slowly at the beer Soap set in front of you. 

"Bonnie?" Soap leaned closer, frowning. His arm touched yours and you did something you'd never done before with these two. 

You flinched. 

You felt them both tense, the air between you turning thick and hard to breathe. Vaguely you were aware of your shoulders creeping up to your ears, of the burning in your chest as you struggled to breathe. 

"Look at me." Ghost suddenly just was in your space, and you blinked stupidly at him. "Breathe for me. Focus on me." 

Your first inhalation was short and shaky, but you did better on the next one. Ghost's gaze didn't waver, fixed on you, the weight of it forcing you to do better. 

By the time Soap came back (and it scared you a little that you hadn't even noticed him leave) you were breathing more or less normally. 

"Up we go," Soap murmured, carefully telegraphing his movements as he held a hand out to you. Ghost got up first, and you followed, feeling shaky. But you did take Soap's hand. 

The world was still staticky around the edges, but you felt less like a raw nerve and more… dull. Flat. 

"We're taking you home," Soap told you, quiet but with an underlying steel that dared you to protest. "Got a car almost here."

You nodded slowly, following meekly as Soap got you out of the bar. Ghost was a comforting, terrifying presence at your back. 

The night air was cooler than the bar, though you almost couldn't feel it. Your brain focused on the unimportant things: the lights shining on the road from a shop light up ahead. The honk of a car a street over. Soap was still standing close to you, his hand in yours, though your fingers were limp. 

A car pulled up and Ghost got in first. Soap nudged you into the back next to him, and then forced you to scoot into the middle seat so you were bracketed by the two of them. Your hands moved on autopilot, buckling you in and then folding in your lap. 

The warmth and solid press of the two men was grounding, even in the silence of the car. The driver didn't say a word, just turned his music up a notch and drove. 

Your breathing was off. Too… shallow maybe? You tried taking a deeper breath and stuttered through the exhale. 

"Easy, Bonnie," Soap murmured, his hand landing on your knee, warm and solid. "Not far now, yeah?" 

You nodded slowly. Thinking was difficult. Everything still felt separated by a layer of static, but the static was slowly clearing, replaced by the warmth of the two men. 

Soap's hand turned out to be a good distraction for you, a good focal point. His hand was much bigger than yours, covering your knee with ease. You could see barely-there scars on his skin, and one nail was chipped. 

You breathed in, and the car stopped. Soap's hand left your knee, but a moment later you felt your seatbelt pop open. 

Ghost nudged you, and you climbed out after Soap. His hand once again wrapped around yours, tethering you. 

"Where are your keys?" Ghost asked. When had he exited? It didn't matter. 

"Pocket." You fumbled for a moment before Ghost took over, his fingers in and out of your pocket so quickly you barely even felt it. 

Ghost went first, with Soap keeping close to your side as they walked you up to your apartment. Vaguely, you wondered why. They could have just dropped you off. 

"No, we couldn't." 

You blinked at Soap. When had he turned into a mind reader?

"I'm not." His lips twitched in almost-amusement. "You've got no filter, Bonnie." 

"Huh." This time you were actually aware of speaking the word. It felt odd. Not quite like you. 

And then your apartment door was open and Soap was ushering you inside and Ghost was sweeping the other rooms. 

You sat on your couch, Soap immediately sitting next to you and fishing out his phone. 

"What do we do for this," he muttered, more to himself than you, gaze flitting between you and his phone. 

"The fuck should I know?" Ghost grumbled. "Blankets?"

"You see any around?" 

The bantering centered you, soothing and familiar, and you breathed in. Everything snapped back into focus, suddenly too bright and too loud. You clenched your jaw, blinking through it until everything settled just to the left of normal. 

Your hands were shaking. You clenched them instead. 

"Don't need blankets." Your voice came out raspy and thin, but you were back in the driver's seat, at least. 

Both of them snapped their attention to you, and you knew they were cataloging differences. The way your shoulders were hunched, the way you refused to look at either of them. 

"What do you need?" Simon was the one to ask. And it was Simon now, not Ghost. The barest glimpse at him showed an openness not otherwise present. 

You snorted, pressing one hand over your eyes. "A new fucking brain," you muttered. You only half meant it. 

"What happened?" Johnny scooted closer until his knee pushed up against yours. 

"Panic attack." You looked down at your hands, unable to face them. 

"What triggered it?" Johnny reached over slowly, taking one of your hands. When you didn't object, he started unfurling your fingers, rubbing his thumb across your palm. 

You breathed in slowly, debating between the truth and making something up. It was hard to talk about, and this was not how you'd wanted to admit this, ever, but… 

"It was that guy, wasn't it?" Simon prowled closer, cold rage in his voice. "What did he do?" 

"Nothing," you answered quickly. Too quickly. 

"You can tell us," Johnny offered, still rubbing your hand soothingly. "We won't judge." 

"No, it's not–" You cut yourself off with a huff. "He didn't have time to do anything." There, that was better. 

But Simon didn't buy it. He dropped down to crouch in front of you, eyes narrowed, holding your gaze through sheer force of personality. "What did he do?" 

You swallowed hard, caught there. Then you sighed and gave in to the inevitable. 

"I don't know for sure that he did anything." The answer was carefully worded. You wished you could look away, anything to make this easier. But Simon didn't move, didn't offer you that reprieve. "In the bar, the only thing he did was talk and be a generic asshole." 

"What else do you think he did? Or might've done?" Johnny pressed closer to you, his other hand curling gently around your wrist. Checking your pulse, you realized with a little start. Well, goddammit all. 

You sighed, closing your eyes briefly. "It was a long time ago." 

The words had the opposite effect from what you intended. Johnny scooted even closer while Simon huffed, both of them clearly tense and not giving up. 

"Why are you protecting him?" Simon asked, eyes narrowing at you. 

"It's not him I'm protecting." You hadn't meant to say that. You swore softly and pulled away. Or tried to. 

"'S alright, gorgeous," Johnny murmured, holding fast to you. "Take your time." 

You sighed, short and hard, through your nose. Okay. Best to just tell them. Just like ripping off a bandaid. 

"I was raped. In college." 

You were wrong. That wasn't any better. The tension rocketed up in the room, and Johnny drew in a sharp breath while Simon started swearing. 

"And it was him?" Simon asked, hands clenched into fists. 

"I don't know." You shrugged a little. "This was over ten years ago. He looked…" You had to pause and swallow hard, flexing your fingers to hide that your hands were shaking. "He looked like him. But I don't know." 

"Give me a name." Simon's voice was quiet and lethal, the kind you only ever heard on missions. 

"Simon–" 

"Give. Me. A. Name." 

You shook your head a little. "Doesn't matter," you mumbled. "It was a very long time ago." 

"It matters, it clearly still bothers you." Johnny tightened his grip on you a little, not letting you pull away. "Tell us what happened, who it was." 

You puffed out your cheeks, gaze darting from Simon to Johnny to the kitchen window to the front door. Your heart was starting to speed up again, your breathing less steady than you liked. 

Simon rocked back on his heels, observing you for a few long moments. Then he stood and moved to the front door, double checking the locks. Your heart sank. He wasn't letting you out of this. 

"If you're making me do this, I need a drink." You tried to stand, only for Johnny to pull you back. 

"Simon will get it." 

You huffed but gave up. "The top shelf to the left of the fridge," you told him, leaning back into the couch. You still felt flighty and unsettled, but oddly enough Johnny's hands on you helped. 

Barely a few moments passed before a glass was held out to you. You took it, frowning a little at the drink before you knocked the whole thing back. 

"I've never…" You trailed off and cleared your throat. Your hands were shaking again. "I was in college. Knew this guy in one of my classes. He seemed decent enough, we chatted sometimes." You paused to swallow hard, stretching out your fingers. Johnny carefully folded your hand in his, twining his fingers with yours. "After finals, he invited me out for a celebratory drink. Then he walked me back and…" You trailed off, struggling to keep yourself in the here and now. 

"It's alright, Bonnie," Johnny murmured, squeezing your hand. "Did you file a report?"

You dropped your gaze to the floor and shook your head. "Never told anyone," you mumbled. 

The silence dragged at your head, pulling your shoulders tight and clenching vice-like around your chest. The urge to babble or scream or do anything to break the awful silence nearly had you biting your tongue, just waiting for the shoe to drop. 

A hand cupped your chin, firm but not harsh, and pulled your gaze up. Startled, you didn't fight it, and found yourself blinking into Simon's eyes. 

"You survived," he said, soft and quiet and a little bit pained. "You're still here. That's enough to be proud of, love." 

Your shoulders sank and the pressure lifted from your chest with a soft whoosh. You couldn't nod, couldn't smile, could just hold his gaze and hope he saw the relief past the blur of tears. 

"I know that was hard, Bonnie," Johnny murmured, crowding closer to you to press his warmth against your side. "I'm proud of you." 

You closed your eyes with a shuddery sigh, relaxing into the two men. The last bits of static cleared away, your heart finally evening out into a more normal rhythm. Relief left you almost light-headed. 

"What was his name?" Simon asked so quietly, so gently, you didn't even think. You just told him. You didn't even open your eyes. 

Not until Simon released you. Then you blinked rapidly, reaching for him. 

"Just a mo, love," he murmured. "I'll be right back." He stepped away from the two of you. 

"Well," Johnny started, pulling your attention back to him, "wanna get ready for bed? Feel like you should sleep after that." 

You made a face, torn. Yes, you wanted to go to bed. But you didn't want to be alone. 

"Suppose so," was what you settled on. 

"Let's go look at your sleeping arrangements." With an easy grin, Johnny stood and hauled you to your feet as well. You led the way to your bedroom, letting him look his fill as you extricated yourself to grab sleep clothes. 

Not that there was much to see. Beyond your bed, which was the largest you could get. You liked having space to sprawl out. 

(You liked the idea of having enough space for someone to sprawl out with you, having room for someone to sleep with you, to cuddle with you–) 

"Not bad," Johnny murmured, touching the bedspread appreciatively. "Get comfy, I’ll be right back." And he, too, left you. 

For a moment, panic tried to crowd its way back in. You'd said too much, finally revealed that you weren't who they thought. They'd realized you were weak, a liability, that the mere appearance of one man who may or may not even be from your past could so thoroughly hurt you. 

But you shook yourself and pinched your thigh, hard. The pain cleared your head just enough to realize you could just hear voices, the two of them talking. So you got ready for bed, a little more sluggish than normal, but good enough. 

You had just sat on your bed, feeling a little adrift again, when Simon and Johnny came back. Simon hadn't changed at all, but Johnny had stripped down to a soft tee and boxers, and he shamelessly crawled into your bed. 

You, admittedly, short circuited. Just a little. 

"What?"

"Get comfy," Johnny said, as if this were totally normal. "We're staying the night." 

You blinked at him, watching him worm his way under the covers, and then just sort of gave up. You got into bed too. 

And then squeaked when Simon pushed you over, effectively sandwiching you between himself and Johnny. Johnny looked smug as he wrapped his arms around you, giving Simon time to sit up in bed and get comfy. 

"See? Nice, isn't it?" Johnny asked, undeniably smug. You gathered that this had been his idea. 

"Mmhm." Still a bit in shock, you couldn't muster anything more coherent than that. But you did slowly relax into the two, breathing easier. Now that you felt you could relax, exhaustion hit you like a freight train. 

"Sleep," Simon ordered you, one hand briefly touching the top of your head. 

"We'll be here," Johnny promised softly, holding you just a little tighter. 

There was nothing for you to do but obey. Lulled by their soft breathing and their promises, you closed your eyes. 

Two days later, Simon silently placed a knife in front of you. There was still a speckle of blood on the handle, a very intentional move on his part. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. 

You remembered giving him the name of your rapist well enough. 

Sleep that night came swiftly and easily, the knife safely in the drawer of your bedside table.