#like they can steal stuff from their victim's bodies but would it be enough? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

retroellie · 4 months

Text

The Other Woman

Summary: After seeing Lila kiss spencer in the pool, all reason leaves your body and creates a jealous mess inside your head. You can thing of only one way to dull the ache of jealousy.

A/N: This lowkey sucks but it's whatever :) I'm so unmotivated and my writers block is terrible omfg. I hope y'all enjoy though <3

Warnings: NSFW, cheating(ish), L*la, Mommy kink, face sitting, unprotected sex, unexperienced spencer, normal Criminal Minds stuff

Word count: 7.6K

Of course, you knew you were acting like a teenage girl, the petty silent treatment was straight of a high school romance. Reid was just trying to do his job, he was told to do something, and he did it. So, you shouldn't be angry. He was trying to prevent another victim; he was trying to protect Lila. Fucking Lila. If it were anyone else, then maybe you would just be able to forget it, but it wasn't someone else. It was her. It was hot blonde, breakout movie star Lila. Her and her perfect body, pretty face, long legs, her beautiful smile, and her money. She was everything a man could want, so what stopped Reid from wanting it too?

It made you uncomfortable in the first place, him being the one to stay with her. You asked Gideon if maybe Elle could do it or even Hotch, but he said since Lila and Spencer were somewhat friends, it would make her more comfortable. But what about you? What about your comfort? You decided to leave your pettiness out of your work, keep your jealousy to yourself, and catch the stalker so you could get out of here, go back to your stupid life with Reid.

You were already feeling sick enough about the entire thing, she could steal Reid from you in a heartbeat and all you could do was let her... But seeing him in the pool with her, her only in a bathing suit and him soaking wet. It played with your heartstrings, wondering everything that could've happened. Spencer couldn't look you in the eye, even after you asked him if he was okay. He just let out a small hum, looking down at his gun while he tried to dry it off. You knew something had happened; did you even want to know? You asked yourself.

You had no choice since Morgan shoved the camera in your face. The pictures of Lila and Spencer, her lips on his. 'Of course, she looked pretty when she hungrily made out with someone' you thought, rolling your eyes mentally. Spencer just watched your face, as it contorted into an unknown expression to him. He was a profiler, yet he could never read you...you were completely foreign to him. It intrigued him when he first met you, it frustrated him. Spencer Reid was a genius, he knew everything. So, him not knowing your brain frustrated him. That's exactly why he fell in love with you, he had to work to understand you and he ended up falling in love with you trying to figure you out.

Spencer opened his mouth to explain himself, but you dismissed it by explaining how you didn't think that the man who took the photos was the unsub. You explain how "he was too cocky and too visible; the unsub would have been more careful than the trespassing paparazzi." You did have a new lead however and you didn't hesitate before you ran off to go follow it. You just wanted to get away from Spencer, you needed to be away from him. You should have heard him out, you would've heard him out but as said before... It was Lila. Girls like her always got what they wanted; they didn't even have to fight for it either. So, you knew how this went, Spencer would leave you for her and you would have to work with him for the rest of your life knowing... you allowed him to be stolen.

You eventually caught the unsub, well Spencer did. It was one of Lila's friends, Maggie. She was desperately in love with Lila but Lila wasn't in love with her back, she killed her victims to show her love for Lila. You somehow understood how she felt as fucked up as it sounds. You understand why people kill for the people they love, how they would do anything just for the person they love. You could see yourself doing that for Spencer, it scared you of what you were willing to do for him. After Maggie had been caught, Hotch told the team to meet back at the local police departments to make their reports. However, you headed back to the hotel, stating that you had fallen sick to Hotch. Obviously hotch knew, he wasn't stupid and he didn't need to be a profiler to know what you were feeling. You were hurt.

So here you are now, in your hotel room... alone. You were writing your reports for other cases, completely neglecting the Lila case. In the state you were in, you couldn't even think of a blonde woman without the heartbreak sensation creeping up again. You hoped to do other cases, the most gruesome cases... The cases with blood and guts would help make that feeling go away or at least dissolve the lump in your throat. You felt like you were 16 again, watching as your prom date went into the bathroom with the popular girl. Your stomach sank as you saw him holding onto her hand, leading him into the biggest stall... all you could do was watch. You suddenly felt every stitch of your dress, all your organs working together, every light molecule on your skin. It was hell.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a knock at your door, your heart dropping as it did. You would think of years of profiling psychopaths, you would be able to handle a knock at the door. For some reason that knock was the scariest thing to you. You sighed softly, putting the paperwork that was sprawled out on the hotel bed to the side and throwing yourself over the side of the bed. You walked to the door, the cold air of the hotel room making you shiver. Your hand touched the cold doorknob, pulling the door open and seeing a figure. Your eyes adjusted and soon you were met with his brown ones.

"Hi..." He said, giving you a soft smile.

"Hi." You said coldly.

It was an awkward encounter for sure, something that happens often but it's more comfortable than this. As of now, all you could think about was Spencer's face smashed up against hers. You were now hyper-aware of everything around you, feeling as though you could hear the colors making up the room. Spencer just stood there, hands in his pockets and giving you that strange grin.

"You weren't at the police station... Hotch told me you were feeling sick." He started, trying to pick up a conversation but for the first time since you met Spencer Reid... he was at a loss for words.

You nodded, confirming Hotch's statement. You could tell what he wanted to ask, so desperately. You were a profiler, you could tell by his fidgeting hand, his eye twitch, the way he couldn't make eye contact with you for more than 4 seconds... He was holding himself back. Spencer knew he did wrong, very wrong. Not only with you but professionally. You're not supposed to kiss a civilian you are told to keep watch on as a federal agent. It's inappropriate and wrong... but Reid could care less about that fact, the kiss meant nothing to him. He was more worried about you. You hadn't talked to him since you saw him in the pool with Lila, you didn't tell him you were going back to the hotel, you didn't even kiss him goodbye before you left Lilas. You bit your lip softly, playing with the flesh as you looked down at your feet.

"Uh yeah..." You started, looking back up at him. "Must have eaten something bad or something..."

Spencer didn't believe you, not for a second. He was never good with social cues but at this moment, he could read the situation better than anyone. However, Spencer has never been in a relationship before... you were his first everything. He'd never been exposed to the petty drama that comes with having a girlfriend, so he wasn't too sure how to go with this conversation. He knew he did wrong, but how does he go about communicating that with you? He doesn't want to make it seem like you're overreacting or you are stupid for being mad... damn, maybe he's overthinking it now. If Spencer Reid is good at anything though, it's statistics.

"You know..." He starts, about to go on one of his Reid rants. "Statistically, 58% of the time people don't actually have anything wrong with their stomach. Mostly it's more psychological than it is physical. Mostly caused by anxiety, guilt or anger."

You were used to these Reid rants at this point. Being with Spencer Reid for 2 years and knowing him for even longer, you have a lot of useless information in your brain that he has nonconsensually given you. You let that information sink into the part of your brain that you will most likely not return to, not even going to attempt to comprehend what number he had just given you. Your face automatically contorted itself into a look that said "Please shut up, leave me alone, and never perceive me again.".

"You think I'm lying?" You ask, not sure whether you're actually offended or it's because you can't get the picture of her kissing him out of your head.

It wasn't Spencer's intention to make you upset, no... that's not why he came here. He just knew that it was deeper than a stomach ache, he knew that your mind was going wild with possibilities and him knowing you, he knew you wouldn't say anything about it. Spencer knew why you did the work you did, he knew you couldn't solve your own problems so you decided to solve others. That's why Spencer didn't wait for you to come to him because he knew you never would. Spencer shook his head eagerly.

"No! no... of course not." He blurted out, looking everywhere but your eyes. "I'm just saying that i think the stomach ache your feeling isn't really a stomach ache... maybe it has something to do with the thing that happened with me and Lila."

The sound of her name sliding off his tongue sounded so frictionless... so effortless. It made you wonder if your name sounded the same, suddenly you forgot what your name sounded like coming out of his mouth. You shook that feeling off real quick, hoping if you pushed it down far enough it would simply go away. You weren't stupid though, you knew what pushing things down would do. It would turn you into something not human, or maybe something that is between a human and something else... it would turn you into Maggie or maybe even the hundreds of people you catch a year. It's funny how you can figure out another person's shit so fast, yet you are still wondering what your shit even is.

You sigh softly, rolling your eyes as you step away from the door and making your way to the small hotel "kitchen". The only thing the kitchen was good for was making coffee or tea, something that you have been living on for the past couple of years. You've found yourself purposely making it bad, the BAU will ruin you like that. You poured yourself some coffee, hearing Spencer walk in and shut the door behind him.

"Or maybe I just have a stomach ache." You say softly, putting the coffee pot back and then pouring pounds of sugar into your coffee. "Besides, it doesn't really matter anymore. The unsub was caught, Lilas safe... we did our job."

Spencer bites his lip nervously, watching you bring your coffee up to your lips and take a swig. As said before, Spencer isn't good with relationships or girls... or really anything that isn't statistics and books, so he isn't sure how to tell you that he is worried about you. He likes you, he'd probably go as far as to say he loves you and he doesn't want this to end. He knows that this will not end well, that your bottled-up emotions will be the end of your relationship. Spencer notices all the case reports scattered over your bed, seeing how you haven't even started on the most recent one... lilas.

"I read in one of my books about human relationships that most relationships end due to no com..." He starts, being interrupted by your tired, jealous self.

"Please, Spencer! enough with the statistics..." You spit, almost yelling... something you've never done to read. You turn to face him, coffee cup still in your hand, burning your skin. "Just spit out what you're trying to say to me."

Spencer gulps slightly, seeing how angry you've already become and you've only bottled this much hatred for less than a day. He knows you don't mean to yell, he knows it. He knows this job does this to a person, makes them angry... messes with their head until they are only a shell of themselves. Spencer adjusts himself, not sure what he is going to say but his plan is just to speak... hoping that the words will form as he does so. He licks his lips, taking in a breath and facing you finally.

"What happened between me and Lila..." He paused, gathering all the courage and breath he had left in this moment. "It meant nothing. I mean yeah we kissed, I mean she kissed me. I told her I had a girlfriend, multiple times. She still did it and I was shocked that I let it happen... but I felt nothing. I swear. And I know you don't want to talk about it, it's uncomfortable and it hurts you too, but I want to talk about it because it hurts me when I think it hurts you. This job can take whatever it wants from me... but I can't live with myself if I let it take you from me." He rambles out.

His breath gets heavy, all the oxygen from his lungs being taken from that single rant. He could've gone on, he wanted to go on but the look on your face made him stop. You looked even more hurt... or did you look relieved... Spencer couldn't tell, you were too hard to read for him. You couldn't explain the feeling either, it was a mix of everything. It was a mix of guilt and content... but most importantly, lust. The ramble had your face heating up and your underwear dampening. You shouldn't be feeling this way at this moment, no... not when your poor boyfriend just poured his heart out to you. but the way his voice was whiny... the way he begged for you, the way his face was now flush... How could you not?

You set your coffee cup down, making your way over to his tall figure. His breathing stopped almost as he could feel your presence getting closer to him, he'd never felt this uneasy in your presence but in this moment, he was afraid of what your next move would be. You were now face to face with Spencer, looking up at him with doe eyes as you watched him nervously fidget with his bottom lip. This feeling you felt was not new, it was something you felt for Spencer when he did pretty much anything. The deep fire that sparked within your stomach was always there when around him, something you were able to control and others... Well, you had to strip him down right then. However, you had never felt this feeling be so potent, so overwhelmingly rich.

"You really mean it?" You said simply, wanting nothing more than to hear him say he wanted you more than you wanted him. Spencer cleared his throat, shifting on his feet as he nervously stood in front of you.

"Yes...I really mean it Y/N." He admitted, his voice laced with desperation. He just wanted his girlfriend, that's all he's ever wanted.

You grin softly, eyes slightly watering as you hear his confession. You knew that Spencer would do anything for you, anything. But hearing it... hearing it gave you a sudden power rush. It made your hands shake, complete dominance running through your body. Your grin caused Spencer to relax, knowing that maybe there was a chance you could forgive him. Your hand snaked its way up to his tie, playing with it. Spencer watched this action, and the sudden realization of how you were feeling crept up on his mind. You weren't the one for punishments, you believed sex should be something that is for praising the other... not punishing. However, the mere thought of you punishing Spencer made both of you weak in the knees.

"i want to believe you, Spence..." You spoke your voice slightly over a whisper. Your hands are still rubbing the soft fabric of his tie between your fingers, flicking your eyes back up to his. "But I can't when you're using that mouth to make excuses...."

You smile up at him innocently, as if you weren't teasing him. Spencer gulped down a whimper, your voice almost having him bust in his pants all ready. You yanked him down to your level by his tie, tugging on it roughly as you forced him to make eye contact with you. You took your free hand to push his hair back from his face, watching his tie rub roughly against his neck. You took your hand, leaving light touches all over his face... tracing every bump, every mole, every scar across his face. You thought he was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen, but so did Lila.

"What can I do..." He started, pausing his sentence as he basked in your soft touches. "to uh... to make you believe me?"

You let out a chuckle, your finger pulling down his lip and then letting it bounce back up. You bit your lip, trying to keep your dominant persona up, but something about the way he was so desperate to please you... the fire burned hotter deep within you.

"I can't tell you... guess you just have to know." You stated. You wanted to keep him on edge, make him more desperate than he already was.

Spencer moaned softly as your grip on his tie tightened, his air getting restricted now but he felt... oddly good. You two were new to having sex at this point, Spencer had just given his virginity to you not even 2 months ago. Yet you both have had sex so often that you both knew each other's bodies inside and out already. He didn't know what he liked or what he wanted, all he knew was he wanted you and only you for the rest of his existence. Spencer couldn't help himself anymore, he smashed his lips into yours. The kiss was full of desperation, his hands making their way into your hair, sometimes pulling but mostly he used it to keep you in place.

It was messy and very sloppy, it was like a normal makeout session for you. Spencer couldn't help himself but to be messy with you, he wanted so much of you that it made him claw at your skin. You didn't mind it, you let him explore your mouth with only his tongue because you fed on his desperation. Your hands made it up to his cheeks, pressing his mouth even closer to you. Your teeth clashed with his, tongues fighting with each other, squirming against each other. You both could have stayed like this for hours, probably coming undone just by kissing but you wanted more.

"Spencer..." You moaned out, pulling him away from you slightly. You looked up at him, the desperation in his eyes to keep going. His lips were kiss-bitten, his cheeks red and his eyes wet. He whimpered at the loss of your lips, breathing heavily as you examined his face. "Take off your clothes and get on the bed."

Your voice was demanding, causing Spencer to jump to what you wanted him to do. You watched him eagerly take off his shirt, his tie getting stuck and frustrating him. Then he worked his way down to his pants, taking off his shoes while he was at it. He left his boxers on, knowing that you would soon take them off anyway. He sat on the bed, waiting patiently for you, feeling your eyes bore into his skin. Spencer had a strange build, skinny and lanky but his muscles were defined. You would basically drool every time you saw it, the first time you ever saw him naked you swear you came just by the view.

"Good boy..." You said, walking over to him as he sat on the edge of the bed. You set yourself on his lap, straddling him as you watched his face turn redder than it already had been. "I have been so good to you haven't I Spencer?"

You sat down on his lap, feeling his cock rock hard against the inside of your thigh. You moved his hair from his face, his hair still reeked of chlorine which created another wave of deep jealousy. Spencer nodded rapidly, his words getting stuck into his throat as you watched his face for an answer. You grinned softly, nodding with him as he let out a little hum.

"Yeah..." You started, feeling his body shake with anticipation. You leaned down, leaving soft kisses along his cheeks as you ground down softly on him. "I let you cum when you want to, let you cum inside me, I suck your dick whenever and wherever I put up with your begging and call you a good boy..."

Spencer moans softly at your words, his hands making their way to your hips as he tries to grind you down harder on his cock. His senses are already being clouded with complete lust, his need to cum is at a peak already. You chuckle down at him, his pathetic moans already filling the room and you have not even started. You trail your kisses to his mouth, forcing the kiss to be softer this time but his lips want more.

"I mean even when I should have slammed the door in your face..." You snap your hips down harshly, watching him moan out loudly. "Here I am, still calling you a good boy."

Although Spencer's moans create a softness inside of you, wanting nothing more than to let him come undone as you praise him, the deep jealousy that has been lingering in the room is creating something inhumane inside of you. You wanted to make him cry, wanted to crave insults into his skin, wanted to push him to the brink, and then take it all away from him. It's how he made you feel, seeing him in that pool with someone like Lila. even if he didn't even mean to. You knew Spencer didn't want Lila to kiss him, part of you knew that and you wanted to slap her for even putting Spencer into that position. However, you could use this anger and jealousy in a good way, a punishment that would leave Spencer feeling like he went to heaven and back.

"y/n... god..." Spencer moaned out, grinding his hips up to meet yours. You grinned softly, moving your hand from his cheek down to his neck.

His neck was already slightly red from his tie, the soft bruise already peeking through. It looked down pretty on his skin, he looked so pretty broken down. You wrapped your hand softly around his neck, setting one last kiss to his lips before you slammed him down on the bed. He gasped softly, breathing heavily as your actions scared him. He was flat on his back now, looking up at you as you straddled his hips. You could feel him throb against your thigh, his cock wanting to free him.

You took the hand wrapped around his neck, trailing it down his chest, down his belly, down his happy trail, pulling his underwear down so only his cock could spring free. You tsked softly, looking down at him as he squirmed. His cock was flush red, dripping precum as it screamed to be touched. It never failed to amaze you just how flustered and hard you could make Dr. Spencer Reid, the genius, the boy wonder.... pretty boy. You weren't exactly what you would assume his type would be, not that you weren't attractive but completely different from Spencer Reid.

You two were like night and day, favoring different things yet being made for each other. Sometimes you would get insecure about it, especially when you two were very public about your relationship. How could someone who knew exactly what they were doing be with someone like you? You thought, sometimes it kept you up at night. How someone like Spencer could be with you, how he could look at you and see only beauty. It freaked you out to say the least and maybe that's why the two of you were in the position in the first place, your insecurities getting the best of you.

"So needy already... I've barely touched you." You tease, biting your lip at the sight of him.

You set your hand on his cock, leaving feather-light touches to it as he squirmed more. You gripped it lazily, moving your hand up and down his cock. Your free hand began unbuttoning your dress pants, zipping them down, and yanking them off your body. You teased Spencer about being the eager one, but you couldn't handle much more of him not being inside you. Spencer threw his head back as you continued to stroke his cock at a slow pace, his eyes shut tight as he was already on the verge of cumming.

"That feel good honey?" You asked him, sure that he wasn't going to be able to answer you. "feels so warm... so wet..." You teased, drawing out your words to push his buttons even more.

You leaned down, hand still pumping his cock as you started leaving soft kissing along his neck, something you knew he loved dearly. Your hand movements were sloppy now, encouraging him to grind his hips into your hand. His thrusts were sporadic, no real rhythm as he was so clouded with the thought of cumming in your hand.

"Feel so... feel so good..." He moaned out, his mind not allowing him to think of a coherent sentence.

That was all you needed to know that he was close, that in the next seconds, he was going to make a mess out of your hand. You pumped him a few more times, watching as his body shook slightly. But then as his orgasm almost washed over him... you pulled your hand away. He whimpered softly, eyes filling with tears as his overstimulated and teased cock throbbed. Spencer had never felt this pathetic, just like you said, you let Spencer cum whenever he wanted to. So you helping him to the edge just to take it away in mere seconds, made this boy into a whiny mess. He would even go as far as to say you spoiled him, always allowing him to make his messes anywhere and everywhere.

"What... why.." He stuttered, not sure what to say but he felt he had been robbed of a mindblowing orgasm. His pouting made you smile, seeing how worked up and ashamed he had become.

"Awe, I'm so sorry baby..." You teased, kissing his neck softly as he desperately tried to feel for your lips with his. "But only good boys get to cum..."

Spencer bucked his hips up into nothing, his stolen orgasm making his stomach ache. Spencer would do anything, anything... just for you to let him cum. He would beg and plead for it, he would murder for it. The mere thought of Spencer willing to do anything just for your hand, sent your body into overdrive, the power rush taking over your own senses until it felt you could only be satisfied by seeing Spencer cry. Spencer huffed and puffed roughly as you continued to lay your kisses on his neck, knowing how weak it made him. His breathing was irregular and it felt as though with every struggling breath, his air was being stolen from him.

"Fuck... please..." He whimpered out, his hands reaching up to your hips once more trying to grind your body against the aching cock. "I'm sorry okay... fuck... I'm so sorry, I'll do anything... I'll be such a good boy for you, just please... fuck please Mommy!"

The word stumped you and took you completely off guard. Spencer was very new to sex and you were new to sex with him, but Mommy?!? You would've never guessed Spencer Reid would have a mommy kink, you should've known simply because it was clear. Spencer Reid has mommy issues, so seeing you as dominant during sex was basically a given, you're a profiler for god sake. You stopped your soft kisses on his neck, bringing your head up to see his horrified reaction to his words.

He was taken aback as well, those words feeling so wrong coming out of his mouth but yet so arousing to him. He always felt the need to hold back the word when you guys had sex, out of fear and him being ashamed. He knew he was safe with you, but something about a grown man calling his lover mommy felt inappropriate to him. It might be his denial or him being sexually insecure, but it just felt weird to him so the only word on his tongue at that moment was "sorry". little did he know though, the word slipping from his mouth did wonders on you. Your face heated up, your cunt wetter than ever, and your urge to cum at a peak.

"I'm so sorry... that was really weird, I'm so..." He started but was rudely interrupted by a very annoyed you.

"Spencer... it's fine, you worry too much." You giggled, trying to reassure him that you were more than okay with his surprising kink. You leaned down once more, pecking his lips with yours to hopefully put him at ease. He eagerly kissed you back, once again pulling you into a sloppy kiss. "How about you show Mommy what you can do with that mouth huh?" You said in between kisses.

Spencer let out a shaky breath, the possibility of how this night would end filling his brain. The shame he felt now was turning into something else, something enjoyable as you teased him about it. He nodded his head, agreeing to whatever you wanted him to do. You smirked, pulling your panties to the side and climbing up his body. Spencer wasn't sure what you were doing, never having been in this position before but his confusion was taken over by pure hunger when being face to face with your cunt.

"If it gets too much or you want to stop, tell me, okay honey?" You stated, looking down at him, his face already slick with your juices. He nodded, looking up at you with eyes that begged you to sit on his face.

You nodded back, getting yourself comfortable before lowering yourself down onto Spencer's face. He knew what to do almost immediately, licking your clit and nuzzling his nose straight into your cunt. Like everything Spencer when it came to sex, it was sloppy and eager. There was no real pace, just Spencer going crazy on your cunt. You couldn't help but rock your hips back and forth slightly, completely forgetting how good Spencer's tongue felt.

Spencer eating you out was no new thing, it happened quite often. He preferred when you two would use your tongues and fingers to pleasure each other. It felt more intimate to him and if he was being completely honest, he felt he was better with them than he was with his dick. He felt he had more control over you when he used his tongue, not to mention when you would touch him he would quite literally forget everything especially how to move his body. So eating you out made him feel more in control and in a career where he was always fighting for control, it was a nice change. Although this position you were in now, sitting on his face, was foreign to him, but he liked it.

You were starting to feel that coil inside you tighten, the sign that you were about to cum all over his face. You gripped the sheets, now moving your hips roughly to the movements of his tongue. Spencer had started sucking softly on your clit before teasing your opening with his tongue, he couldn't pick which he wanted to do so he tried to do both. For a minute there Spencer forgot he even had hands, his mind only on lapping at your cunt and tasting your juices flowing down his tongue.

"Spencer... fuck..." You moaned out, throwing your head back as you tried your best to stay upright. "remember your hands..." You directed him.

Spencer mentally scolded himself for that, knowing that in the past you scolded him for not using his hands. Spencer couldn't help it though, he wanted to taste all of you and his hands were the last thing he was worried about. Spencer brought one of his hands up to meet your cunt, digging his fingers into you. The feeling of his fingers exploring inside you had you grabbing at his hair, holding his face in place as you bucked your hips onto his fingers. Your movements only egged Spencer on, his fingers curling up to feel for your g-stop and his mouth latching onto your clit.

You were now the one who was a whimpering mess, curses fell from your lips and your hips forced themselves down onto Spencer. You were close, feeling that the coil became more tight as your back arched. Your thighs began to shake, your vision blurry as Spencer finally found your g-spot. It only took him only 3 curls of his fingers before that coil snapped.

"FUCK!" You screamed out, not surprised if the hotel heard you.

Spencer licked and pumped you through your orgasm, something you taught him how to do. You can remember the first time he had ever eaten you out, as soon as your cunt oozed out your juices... Spencer got scared that he had done something wrong, completely stopping his movements and cutting your orgasm short. You taught him that it was a good sign and what he should do while it was happening. You were proud to say that you taught Spencer right, you were the one who taught him how to please a woman... Can Lila say the same?

You hunched over on top of Spencer, shaking slightly as you recovered from your orgasm. Spencer slid his fingers out of you, placing them in his mouth as he licked them clean. You watched as he did, the sight alone creating a new wave of horniness over your body. He wanted every little speck of you, wanting to taste everything you had and he would gladly enjoy it. You shifted yourself down Spencer's body, once again straddling his hips.

"Was I a good mommy?" He asked innocently, his voice almost a whimper. He looked innocent as ever, even with his face soaked with your cum, he just looked so heavenly. You placed your hand on his cheek, wiping off the mess you had created.

"So good my love..." You whispered, watching his face turn a bright red once more. The words "my love" echoing in his ears, making his cock throb more. "How about mommy take care of you now huh?"

Your words rushed straight to Spencer's cock, forcing himself not to cum just from your words. Spencer nodded, breathing heavily as you pecked his lips with yours. You could taste your own cum on his lips along with spencers cherry chapstick that he always seems to be wearing. You let Spencer explore your mouth once more, taking what he needed from you as you once again wrapped your hand around his cock and lined it up with yourself. Spencer bucked up to meet your hips, being the greedy little bastard he was and wanting to thrust himself into you. You chuckled at his neediness but gave into his wishes, slowly setting yourself down onto him.

"Fuc..." Spencer whined out, throwing his head back in bliss.

You didn't know what happened at first, thinking that maybe Spencer was just that excited to be inside you once again. Then you felt it, his hot cum coating your walls already. You hadn't even put him all inside you and he had already come. Spencer's face contorted into pure pleasure, nails digging into your hips as he drenched your insides with cum. He was too in the clouds to realize what he had just done, it hit him too suddenly and way too hard for him to think. but eventually, he came down and sudden embarrassment ran cold through his body.

"Shit... I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to. It's just h..." He started, rapidly trying to apologize for cumming so early even if it wasn't under his control. His apologies got cut off by you fully sitting down on his cock, his cock now nestled deep inside of you.

Spencer once again through his head back, his words fading into whimpers and whining. You smiled at his reaction, your cunt feeling his dick get hard once more. Spencer never knew that he would be in this position tonight or really ever. He never knew in a hundred years he would be deep inside his coworker, a babbling mess underneath her, and basically prematurely ejaculate inside of her. but somehow this is where Spencer feels he wants to be, maybe not the cumming so soon part but being underneath you.

"No need to apologize Spence..." You moan out, shifting your hips slightly. You bring your hands up to your shirt and slowly work your way down the buttons. "You deserved to cum in mommy, you did so good with your mouth."

You yank your shirt off, revealing your black lacy bra Spencer had bought you days before. Spencer's breath hitched, his memory of buying that in the first place coming back. He was at the store, buying whatever he needed for that night when he accidentally stumbled into the women's undergarments section. He attempted to cover his eyes, but for some reason, they kept landing on the black lacy bra you had right now. It was embarrassing for him to be buying it, going to the checkout, and praying the cashier didn't even think twice about it, it didn't help that the image of you in it had him rock hard.

You bucked your hips softly, feeling every single inch of Spencer nuzzling inside of you. You watched his eyes, seeing how they planted on your boobs. You chuckled softly, reaching your hands to him that were sitting on your hips and bringing them up. You placed his hands on your breast, knowing that Spencer would be too shy to do it himself. You held his hands there, feeling his hands squeeze them gently as you did.

"I wanna..." You start, being interrupted by a soft moan that escapes your mouth as Spencer starts to thrust his hips up to meet yours. "I wanna make you do it again... i want you to cum in me again..."

That is all Spencer needed to hear, his stomach already creating a tight coil that could break at any moment. Your thrust was starting to pick up, his cock being pulled almost completely out of you before you slammed your hips back down to push him all the way into you. With Spencer's cock deep inside you and his hands squeezing your tits roughly, you felt you had died and went straight to heaven, or was this hell? Because you doubted you could find sex like this in heaven, this was dirty and sinful. The curses dripping from each of your mouths and spencers moans that sounded like something straight of a porno filled the room and most likely the entire floor of the hotel.

You couldn't hold yourself up anymore, hunching over Spencer as your hips continued to thrust roughly. Spencer moved his hands back to your hips for the hundredth time tonight, helping you thrust his cock inside of you. You were both overstimulated, your clit sending shocks of electricity through your body every time it made contact with Spencer's lower stomach. The coil inside you threatened to burst, frustration filled you as you tried desperately to bust it open and make more of a mess than it already had been. You reached down in between your legs, rubbing the small bud and sending lightning through your body.

"Fuck... gonna cum...gonna cum on your cock..." You moaned out, stuttering every time Spencer's cock filled you up.

Spencer took that as a sign to thrust harder back into you, moving his hips up and forcing your hips down. You were on the edge, every single inch of your body on fire as you fucked yourself onto Spencer. and with one single hard, deep thrust from Spencer... the coil in you snapped once again. You shoved your face into the sheet next to Spencer's head, screaming into them as you came all over Spencer's cock. You felt this feeling couldn't get any better until you felt Spencer's hot cum flow through you once again.

You were too in your own world to even hear Spencer's loud scream/moan he did as he came deep inside you, you both being thrown out of your own bodies as you came. Your juices flow together to make one big mess out of the sheets, something that will be embarrassing for the housekeepers to clean in the morning. You both laid there for a minute, basking in each other's warmth and feeling spencers cum seep out of your cunt.

It was strange to you, how you would much rather Spencer's cum dripping out of you than... well anything in life. You weren't exactly the most sex-driven person, but at this moment you knew why some people were. Spencer somehow got into your head, planting himself into it and keeping it hostage. With that being said, you couldn't stay mad at Spencer, you honestly completely forgot why you had been pushing him in the first place. The name Lila is so far away from your thoughts, that you don't actually care anymore.

You slid Spencer out of you with a wince, flopping down next to him as he came down from his high. You shifted to your side so you could watch his pretty face, his eyes fluttering open, his mouth trying to steal whatever air he could get... He looked blissful. You felt oddly proud about it, knowing that you were the one to do that. However, through the pride, you felt a deep guilt. Spencer was the kindest boy you have ever met, he chose you to give his heart to. Yet you were upset with him because he kissed another girl? No, he didn't kiss her... she kissed him. You felt petty now, the regret of ever questioning Spencer's loyalty mended into your brain.

"I'm not mad at you, you know?" You're tired, worn-out voice making it sound like a whisper. Spencer sighed softly, clear that he had forgotten as well and now he's remembered it all again. "It's just...seeing her with you, it just brought me back to high school you know? It made me feel how I did when fucking Rachel Clark tongue fucked my prom date..." You let out a soft sigh, playing with Spencer's hair as you talked.

"You know it's normal to feel that way, especially when you had a similar experience," Spencer explains, going on another one of his Reid rants. "And well, anyone would feel like that whether you had a similar experience with it or not. I know I would." Spencer's eyes wandered to the ceiling, closing his eyes due to utter exhaustion.

You couldn't imagine Spencer Reid ever getting jealous, he was always so calm about everything. You wondered what it would look like. Would he pin you to the bed and fuck the shit out of you like you did him or would he just not know how to deal with those emotions. You honestly wouldn't want to put him into a situation where he would feel that, you couldn't do that to little Spencer. He was innocent, as if the world had not touched him yet even if he does look at the dark underbelly of humans every single day.

"Yeah... well you won't ever have to worry about that my love." You said softly, cuddling yourself further into his side as you closed your eyes as well. "You're stuck with me..."

Spencer chuckled softly, at complete peace that he was stuck with you. If you were the person he was stuck with for the rest of his life, he would die a happy man. You two didn't even bother wrapping up in the blankets, you just needed each other's warmth as you lulled each other to sleep. The presence of jealousy and anger nowhere to be seen, maybe y'all didn't talk it out tonight but you sure did fuck and made up. You wouldn't have it any other way.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fandom

839 notes · View notes

sins0fthefather · 3 months

Text

Wrath.

Jeff the Killer HCs:

General HCs:

Full Name: Jeffrey Alexander Woods (Only responds to Jeff though. Best case scenario if you call him his full name is he’ll ignore you, worst case scenario is him flipping his shit on you)

Age: 22-25 (Based on where in the story a character study/fic takes place)

Birthday: September 22 (Older than Liu by 2 years)

Wasian— Father is Chinese, mother is a born n’ raised Texan

Biromantic, Demisexual

Has autism, C-PTSD, BPD (contributor to his auditory hallucinations), NPD, ASPD, and BDD

Right Handed

6’1 (185~ cm)

Covered in burn scars, most noticeably on his chest, forearms, and back

He uses white facepaint, it makes his face’s silhouette look “cleaner” in his eyes

His cuts have healed up for the most part, although he’ll have moments where he relapses and cuts at them again. The ends will also sometimes tear if he does something like laugh too hard.

Very touchy with other people, but he despises being touched first. He prefers to initiate physical contact- both because of the control aspect of it and because of his general distrust of others.

His sense of humor waxes and wanes from extreme condescension to the most morbid sentences you’ve ever heard. Half of the time it doesn’t even sound like a joke.

Reckless driver, cursed with terrible road rage

Smokes cigarettes, his brand of choice is Marlboro

Drinks vodka straight as if it were water

I feel like his favorite band would be Tool or Slipknot. His music taste is just metal and dad rock.

Was brought up in a Catholic school for most of his life, although he obviously doesn’t keep up with the practice anymore. This is a big catalyst for why he develops a god complex however since he “has authority over life and death”— something unique only to gods from what he was taught.

Very observant of the people around him. He memorizes speech patterns, demeanors, even the way people walk. He’s gotten to the point where he can read people and their intentions well before they’re explicitly stated, making it much easier for him to spot a lie. However this also makes it much easier for him to tell when he’s truly pushing somebody’s buttons, and there’s nothing he loves more than pushing people past their limit.

Always stealing glances of himself in any mirror he walks past

He’s an opportunistic killer. Limiting himself to patterns clashes with the creativity and the thrill of the moment to him. However, there are specific elements of a kill he will often repeat if the mood strikes him. An example of this would be often including strangulation (albeit usually not the direct cause of death) to reflect his acquired need for control in all moments of his life. Sometimes he will also pose bodies in a “prayer” position to call back that god complex I mentioned.

He doesn’t always kill people immediately. If someone catches his eye, usually because he finds them beautiful in some aspect, he’ll take it a step further. He has no problem with being patient when the situation arises for it- stalking the person, learning their habits and schedules, the whole shebang. He’ll then slowly start to ruin said person’s life, isolating them through the slaughter of those closest to them and destroying any sense of peace and security they once had. He’s the sound that goes -bump- in the night. He’ll toy with his food until he eventually grows bored, disposing them like all the rest. After all, how dare someone else try to be beautiful in his presence- a punishment of the highest order is necessary.

His anger can be very… explosive. He doesn’t stick around very long for enough people besides victims to see it, but it can be as unpredictable as his own kills. It’s worse when he’s silent in his anger however, since with the former you at least have enough of a warning to brace yourself.

Backstory-Centric HCs:

(TW: csa, murder, mutilation, religious trauma, general stuff)

Takes place in college. Jeff is 22 at the start while Liu is 20.

Instead of being a one-off instance, Jeff and Liu have been subjected to bullying/borderline harassment since middle school. This builds up Jeff’s gradual distrust of others and leads to him shutting himself off from his peers.

Most of said bullying revolved around their mixed race situation. It only got worse as Jeff shut himself off and Liu became a people pleaser.

The two didn’t even have peace at home, since their parents were sexually abusive and excused it through their religion. It was “all apart of god’s love” as they said. This + the bullying leads Liu to develop DID and kickstarts Jeff’s resentment towards their parents. It also led Jeff to develop a twisted belief on what love and beauty is since god apparently “favored” the beauty of his parent’s form of “love.”

On one particular instance of bullying/harassment, a small group of people he grew up with planned on jumping and mugging Jeff behind a bar. Things escalated when Jeff retaliated in self defense, beating his aggressors with a nearby pipe found laying against a dumpster. He didn’t leave unscathed however, since one of the attackers dropped a lighter into the flammable materials (alcohol, trash, etc) that had been scattered in the fight, planning on making everyone go down in that moment. Jeff managed to survive (albeit with severe burns along his body) after being found by an employee who went to go check out the noise/smell of smoke, but the others succumbed to their wounds.

While in a heavy state of shock and psychosis (paired with being drugged up out the wazoo at the hospital) his usual unchecked auditory hallucinations worsened, leading his mind to trick him into believing this situation was a sign from god- that he was supposed to survive while his tormentors burned. Paired with his already twisted concepts of love and beauty, he began to believe that his burns were part of god’s plan to make him more beautiful- because he was favored.

This only gets worse when he’s released from the hospital’s custody due to a neglect in checking his mental state. After being sent home with his family and therefore being thrown back into the abusive environment he hoped to escape when going to college he ends up experiencing a psychotic break, mutilating himself in the process.

When his parents catch him, they attack him. In their eyes he had disgraced them, no longer upholding the “beauty” of heaven that they enforced. He ends up killing them in self defense, but furthers it by mutilating their bodies in an act of defiance induced by his break. He believes he’s outdone god in this moment, deluding himself into thinking he’s on the same level (or even better) than god.

While overcome by his psychotic break, he ends up severely wounding Liu after he wakes up to check out the noise. It becomes a conspiracy on if Liu survived or not since his body was never found by authorities.

The reason why Jeff continues on his spree after these instances is the feel of control he gets. After being forced into submission by those around him for so long, he finally feels a stable sense of power over those he deems as less than him.

He ends up wandering throughout the states after this, hopping from town to town. He never stays in one place for long, although sometimes he’ll revisit his home town to give the urban legend fanatics something to fear again.

#long post woo #questions encouraged teehee #jeff the killer x reader #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta/you #creepypasta #headcanon #headcanons #jeffrey woods #homicidal liu #rewrite #writers on tumblr #the autism is autisming

179 notes · View notes

sundaepoppy · 1 year

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could write romantic yandere hcs with Thomas tweek pip and Gregory with a gn! Imp! Reader? Sorry if this request was not specific enough!

Yandere Thomas, Tweek, Pip, and Gregory with an Imp s/o❤️‍🔥💖❤️‍🩹

Warnings: obsessive behavior, punishments, humiliation, murder, bite marks.

Genre: Romantic

Gender: Neutral

💛 Thomas Lacey 🩸

Even though he is a yandere, he's still practically a sweetheart.

But more sweet towards you than anybody else in this scenario.

He often pukes blood whenever he is around you, how can he not resist how adorable you are?

He always gives you sweet kisses whenever you both are cuddling and he whispers sweet stuff into your ears while he strokes your wings. <3

He is sweet, but he's capable of hurting somebody whenever they try hitting on you or stealing you away from him.

He won't hurt you, only if you don't try escaping him. If you don't try to escape, then Thomas is a happy boi •v•

His punishments aren't that cruel since he is still a sweetheart towards you so you don't have to worry.

He may also cook for you if you been a good girl/boy.💛💛💛💛💛

💛 Tweek Tweak ☕

You both grew up together and had always been friends ever since.

Tweek soon has started to develop feelings for you. The only difference is that those feelings has become quite obsessive.

Tweek's eyes are always on you and only you so he ends up zoning out quite often.

Everyone was concerned on the way Tweek was acting until they figured out that he was high heels over you.

Tweek always gets jealous and quite angry whenever he sees you talking to someone. It makes him twitch more violently in frustration than it already is.

Tweek then kidnapped you so he could have you all to himself. Nobody is allowed to touch what is his.

If you ever try to escape, punishments will be served. More like bruise marks on your body.

If you try to escape again. Tweek might just tie your hands together with cuffs as a form of humiliation.

He is still sweet though! when you aren't being naughty of course.💛💛💛💛💛

💛 Pip Pirrup 🌠

You'll definitely be covered in bite marks. All over your body.

Pip bites gently though! He would never hurt his precious s/o. Unless he has to....

But don't worry dear, it only happens when you have been naughty. Don't be naughty and Pip won't hurt you! <3

He is so sweet and clingy! He'd be clingy to you very often ♥️ he likes the feeling of his s/o in his arms...

He peppers your face with kisses while biting you in the progress.

His victims....his killings are a bit messy if I do say so.

He definitely didn't bite the face off of his victims or stab them. He definitely didn't do that because they were messing with him and his s/o.

Pip is just protecting his s/o <3

If you make him jealous though....he might give you more bite marks than usual to show you that you belong to him and only him.💛💛💛💛

💛 Gregory Bellarose ♣️

Gregory as a yandere? My! how rare....

Gregory must've taken a liking into you for him to be your yandere.

He is sweet, but also flirty as well. He makes flirty comments in your ear just so he could see your adorable face blush bright red.

Escaping him would be hard, he can just easily grab you and pull you back towards him with his Ink goo hands.

Humiliation is one of Gregory's ways of punishing you. He'd make you wear a collar that has "Gregory's Bitch" carved on it.

He can just hold you in place with the ink hands, allowing him to do whatever he wants with for your punishments.

His killings, well I won't go in exact details. But they aren't really quite pleasant to see dear.

Probably something far worse then what Pip does.

But that's okay! He isn't that cruel to make you watch him murder his victim in a not too horrible fashion way. 💛💛💛💛💛💛

Bleep bloop Bleep bloop Bleep bloop Bleep bloop Bleep bloop Bleep bloop Bleep bloop Bleep bloop Bleep bloop Bleep bloop Bleep bloop Bleep bloop Bleep bloop Bleep bloop

246 notes · View notes

luffyvace · 5 months

Text

STRAW HAT HEADCANONS

YUP YUP

as a thx for being patient for me not posting all day-

you get the whole crew!! :)

(some of these are based off true stories i’ve heard of from my friends 😭🧍‍♀️)

Luffy

never a peaceful day goes by

hes the type of guy that has to make noise if it’s “too silent”

like bro can’t we get some peace and quiet??

thrives in chaos

his eye to hand coordination is on point bc this man doesn’t think before he does ANYTHING

steals things from his crew even

if he sees something he likes he just takes it

he goes into the bathroom, puts boogers on the tissue then leaves

doesn’t even take it off or flush it

the next person who has to use that bathroom is mortified

when nami finds out and holds a whole meeting to find out who did this terrible act of crime

they find out it’s him he just laughs

per usual

stop this madness.

(he doesn’t)

Zoro

also a menace

not as straightforward with it though

its more like if he gets water everywhere when washing his hands

or spills his drink when pouring it

or pee all over the toilet

he’s kinda like oh whoops

(for future reference- my apologies for who ever you simp for here bc these headcanons don’t hold back)

anyway

sometimes he doesn’t shower after he trains

and just walks in the kitchen full body REEKING 😭😭😭

seriously dude take a shower

”i’ll cool off eventually”

THAT AINT GONNA GET RID OF THE STENCH

it makes me doubt he changes his underwear often enough

he leaves empty water bottles everywhere

it’s worse in the crows nest trust

Nami

thankfully this poor victim isn’t nearly as much as a menace

as long as you pay your beli

is genuinely willing to wait as long as it takes to get that money

and if you die she’s taking your life insurance

if your a pirate and have none she probably just takes whatever money and belongings you own

if it’s gems she’ll keep them but otherwise

she sells your clothes and other stuff that’s not worth much

smells like flowers

yes i said it

every time she comes out the shower something chaotic has happened

ah what a refreshing shower..

WHAT DO YOU MEAN LUFFY UPSET ANOTHER GOD 😱

😡✊ 🤣 💥 😓 😑

you can guess what happened

Usopp

his luck heavily fluctuates

sometimes he can get away with stealing. from. nami.

wow.

to other times getting blamed for farting

by luffy

and no one likes that feeling

has a better fashion sense but just chooses to dress how he does

no reason really

he can do hair and paint nails

nail painting he learned from kaya

would love horse back riding if he tried

he would suck at first tho

likes little children but they always end up beating him up for some reason

‘his cooking isn’t that good!’

‘let’s jump him!’

‘yeah!!’

besides the usopp pirates—they just do

Sanji

he could pull if he just stopped simping so hard

opla sanji is proof

his favorite thing to cook is spicy foods

him and chopper bond over spices bc some are good for your health and all

chopper sometimes recommends new herbs to put in foods

and vice versa for medicine

he helps chopper shop for herbs and such

if zoro wasn’t his big brother it was def be sanji

i love this duo it need more screen time

Sanji is a natural with children

which is why i wanna know why he ain’t wifed up yet?!

still hasn’t had his first kiss

prob would’ve genuinely married pudding if she was regular girl or at least not a big mom pirate

Chopper

sweetest person ever

looks up to all the straw hats

so he picks up bad habits from them

and is influenced by them easily

they use him as a tie breaker for stuff

they all bribe him to picking they’re option

usually robin, nami, sanji or zoro wins

robin bc she uses her psychological knowledge

nami bc she offers to buy his doctor stuff (which is rare)

sanji bc they have a close bond and relate to each other

and zoro bc they’re bond too (and bc he scares him sometimes- like that time in water 7)

asks people to help him with his doctor research

everyone was willing until the time usopp had diarrhea

then he could only convince luffy to do it 😭

Robin♥︎

her stare scares the rest of the straw hats

if it’s not a genuine smile and more like a distant stare that is

shes always observing and watching

theres no hiding secrets from her

she’s knows all

she actually reminds me of a friend i had irl and idk how to feel abt it

she wasn’t a bad person

she was just

just like robin 🧍‍♀️

anyway

i wonder if robin would read stephen king?

she would prob big up the book

only for them to find out it’s pretty dark

she prefers tea over coffee any day

its healthier w more health benefits

it just suits her taste pallet more

plus it doesn’t stain your teeth yellow n stuff..

Franky

SO LOUD

the second he gets up-

SUPERRRRRRR

its kinda annoying

he doesn’t care much if you don’t like it

Luffy is louder ok

your fine

wants robin to think he’s cool

if you don’t get something he said he doesn’t feel like repeating himself

either leaves out more details the more he explains it

or stares at you until you get it

constantly requesting american food for dinner

he doesn’t mind noodles and other around the world dishes

but can he get some pizza??

is that too much??

actually such a kind and considerate person

can relate to sanji on his kindness and empathy being his superpower

♡♡BROOK♡♡

needs so much more attention

the only one who still laughs at his skull jokes are luffy and chopper

sometimes usopp if it was a good one

loves to exchange books with robin but..

sometimes they’re a bit scary

(dude your a skeleton…YOUR SCARY-)

robin listens to him well bc he has a wealth of knowledge

he is 90 after all

maybe brook gets his clothes tailored??( bc who makes clothes so skinny a skeleton could fit them?!)

can play instruments no ones ever even HEARD OF before

randomly re-realizes his generation of people is dead

like now he has to accommodate with the youngsters 😭

i mean people in one piece live pretty long

but still they’re not out here kickin it n allike they used to

like rayliegh-

except he’s younger-

way younger-

ok so maybe whitebeard

but he was still jukin-

IDK MAN

one piece people are weird..

JINBEI

idk much about him especially but imma try

he’s so cool

he can prob cook really well

has very good survival and leader skills

plus instincts

wait how old is he??

looked it up he’s 46

so he’s the 2nd oldest

technically would be first if brook wasn’t a moving pile of bones

yohohoho!

my apologies your right this is jinbei.

i feel like he can dance

like he knows traditional dances of all sorts

i mean he could travel under water pretty fast

he should be able to visit different places right?

besides, he was a warlord

of course he did!

i feel he wouldn’t be a simp

as in for boa specifically

like he’s like i got too much going on to simp over some youngster

ik he ain’t real old or anything

but my dude a grown man

bro ain’t got time

he’s too busy being himothy

i feel he’d like poems

jinbei’s was like the most serious one. and that was still all over the place itself-

i take it back probably chopper or robin

this was fun but it took so long. it’s ok u guys enjoy :). i’m off to watch some anime 🏃‍♀️

oh my GOODNESS. so many tags 🤓

34 notes · View notes

angelasscribbles · 9 months

Text

Dark Elf Chapter 7: Spirit Bound

Series: Dark Elf

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Drake (this chapter)

Word Count: 2,424

Rating: NSFW 🍋🍋🍋

Warnings for this series: Dubcon (but not really because she's a demon)

A/N: Submission for @choicesprompts Smutember prompt event. Prompt: Hard and Fast.

A/N2: I hope no one gets confused between this one and the other dark AU I have going right now, The Dark Kingdom. This one, Dark Elf is the one where Riley is a demon here to sacrifice Hana so Liam can achieve immortality. Liam is half elf, half human. Drake shifts into a tiger. Max is the human sorcerer that summoned her.

Thanks @aussiegurl1234 for prereading and drooling over this chapter. 😆

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley woke and stretched her body as memories of the night before fell through her head. The halfling prince had been even more delicious than she had imagined he would be. She turned her head to his side of the bed. Empty. But it would be, it was well past dawn, and he was expected at a council meeting. There was a note on the nightstand.

Last night was amazing. Looking forward to doing it again. I’ll expect you at dinner again tonight. Look in the closet.

She took her time with the shower; it was much more luxurious than her own. It was a walk-in with enough room for at least eight people to shower at the same time. When she was done, she stepped into the dress and admired herself in the floor-length mirror. It showcased her assets well. But then, all the clothes in her closet did. They all had been provided by Liam and were high quality and high fashion. He had good taste; she’d give him that.

When she was dressed, she picked up the phone and called Hana to reschedule. They could have lunch tomorrow. Today she had slept in thanks to her adventures with Liam. The man was insatiable. Their post-coital cuddling had led to a second round, then a third. And he really did like it rough. She had thoroughly enjoyed their little interlude, but now it was time to turn her attention to phase two of her plan. Time was running out.

She had his blood, now she needed his spell breaker.

She didn’t have to look far to find him either. When she arrived back at her room, Drake was already outside her door. She stopped well away from him. She wanted to talk to him before she got close enough for him to smell her.

Shock flashed across his face when he saw her, “You’re not in your room?”

“Obviously not.”

“Liam told me to resume guard duty this morning, he didn’t say where. I just assumed you were in there. I didn’t realize you’d be up so early.”

“Yes, well….errands…” she drummed her fingers across her lips for a moment then she smiled at him, “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

A guarded expression flitted across his face, “Go ahead….”

“Liam calls you D’hala not Da’sa, why is that?”

Drake bristled as he answered, “Because I am not a servant!”

Awed disbelief mingled with elated surprise, “He hasn’t bound you to him?”

“No. I told you; I serve him by choice!”

“Oh, my dear sweet boy, being bound is a choice.” She marveled at the combination of strength and downright naivete she had found in him. Shifters, especially of the Pantera species, were some of the most powerful beings on earth. Physically he was a force to be reckoned with and magical means of defense or attack could not touch him. Yet he seemed almost innocent when it came to the ways of the world, most likely a result of the sheltered life he’d led at the palace.

She repressed her glee as she realized how incredibly simple Liam had made this. Stealing his spellbreaker would be easy. So easy it almost wasn’t sporting.

The cuff that adorned her right arm might be suppressing her demonic powers, but she had the full arsenal of all her vampiric powers at her fingertips. She supposed Liam wasn’t aware that when a vampire drank from a willing victim, some small part of the victim’s abilities were conveyed upon the blood drinker. In this case, his magic.

She’d never felt so much of someone else’s power coursing through her veins before, but perhaps the magnetic pull of her magic to his had somehow heightened it, strengthened it. Whatever the reason, she now possessed enough magic to help push the already teetering on the edge of giving in to her tiger right over the precipice.

Drake was immune to most magical forms of manipulation, but he wasn’t immune to tiger pheromones. And those she could easily manufacture now that she had access to a modicum of Elven magic. Produced by magical means or not, the pheromones themselves would be real enough. An illusion would never work on him. Fortunately, demons could shapeshift, so it was a simple matter of modifying her own actual pheromones, customizing them so that she became irresistible to him.

“I….what?” He eyed her with a combination of mistrust and curiosity.

“You can’t be bound against your will. It’s a form of…commitment.” One you couldn’t easily take back.

His only response was a grunt.

“There are benefits to being bound you know.”

“Like what?”

She shrugged languidly, “Depends on who’s doing the binding. Being bound to an immortal creature bestows immortality onto you as well.”

“Who wants to be immortal?” Shifters already had very long lifespans.

“You might, if you were truly devoted to someone. Wouldn’t you want to live as long as your lover?” With that, she moved down the hall, passing in front of him to open her door.

His nostrils flared as she walked past him into the room. His sense of smell was far more advanced than humans. Even this many hours later, there was no mistaking it. The scent was there under the soap and shampoo from her shower.

She cast a glance back over her shoulder, “What’s wrong, shifter? You look pissed off.”

Without preamble, he stepped into her room, grabbed her by the arm, and jerked her roughly to him. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck and inhaled then he shoved her away with an accusing glare, “His smell is all over you!”

Riley stumbled backward but regained her footing, and her wits, quickly. With a mocking smile, she lifted her shoulders, “So? Why does that matter to you?”

“Why does that matter? Yesterday you were ready to….we were ready to….you let me….I….I thought….”

“Listen, tiger, I need a man who can think for himself. A strong one. Does that describe you?”

“Yes!”

She stepped into his personal face and tilted her head up to give him a challenging stare, “Prove it then.”

He visibly started, “Prove…what, exactly?”

“Prove your devotion,” she sank her fingers into his hair, “You want to serve so badly…serve me instead.”

“I…”

“That’s what I thought,” she shoved away from him, and spun to walk away, “pathetic.”

The beast inside him sprang to life as pain, fury, and desire twisted together into a deadly combination.

He reached for her and pulled her back, ripping the clothes from her body in one fluid motion. He pressed himself against her naked backside as a feral growl spilled out of him and his tiger rippled a little too close to the surface. He sank his teeth into the back of her shoulder as he struggled not to shift.

What the hell was happening? He’d had sex before, he’d felt lust and desire before but never had it affected him like this. His body was reacting to her as if she were another tiger. A female tiger in heat. He’d never actually experienced that, but every instinct he possessed was telling him that’s exactly what she was. Every instinct he had was also screaming at him to claim her, to possess her, to wipe Liam’s scent from her body and replace it with his own.

As he struggled to calm his beast and contain himself, Riley pushed back against him, rubbing her firm, supple ass against his rock-hard cock, “What's wrong, shifter? Even now you can’t step a toe out of line without permission?”

With fury and lust clouding his mind, he forced her to the floor, heedless of the bed mere feet away. He dropped to the ground hovering over her, one hand pushing into her upper back as the other tore at his own clothing. His cock sprang free, and he pushed her legs apart then shoved himself inside her with a primal roar.

He drove himself into her with a ferocity that would have frightened him had his mind been clear enough to register it. His senses drowned in a tidal wave of need overpowering in its intensity, wiping away every vestige of common sense, and self-control he possessed.

Riley writhed underneath him, pinned face down on the floor as he pounded relentlessly into her, deep in the grip of a passion and lust-fueled delirium. Pupils blown, restraint gone, he hurtled toward the edge of the abyss and crashed over it as his teeth tore at her shoulder. Her blood filled his mouth, and her scent filled his nostrils as his seed filled her insides. He pushed one last time, sinking himself as deep as he could go as he finished pulsing inside her.

He collapsed forward and lay on top of her panting as the roaring in his ears receded and some semblance of sanity retook him. He looked down at her ripped-up shoulder in horror, “Riley, shit! I’m sorry!”

“It’ll heal,” she told him. The only thing that healed quicker than a shifter was a demon. Indeed, the skin began knitting itself back together as he watched.

He scrambled off her, sprawling on his ass next to her on the floor, his head swiveling from side to side as if he wasn’t sure where he was or how he had gotten there, “I…I don’t know what happened…”

His pants were still tangled around his legs, he’d never gotten them off, just shoved down. Her dress lay on the other side of the room, ripped completely in half. He jerked his pants up, but the zipper and button had been torn out. “What the fuck?” He whispered to himself then his eyes lifted slowly to take in the woman he’d just ravaged without so much as a by your leave.

Riley had pulled herself into a similar seated position. Her eyes bore into him as she licked blood from her lips.

His eyes widened, “Did I….did I hurt you?”

“Define hurt….”

“I’m sorry…I…I don’t know what just happened to me….”

“Come here,” she motioned for him to move closer.

He scooted forward until he was in front of her. Lowering his head into her lap he fought back tears, “I swear I’ve never…I wouldn’t…I didn’t mean to….”

“It’s okay,” she crooned as her fingers combed through his hair and caressed his scalp, “I pushed you to it.”

“There’s no excuse for losing control like that,” he croaked out, his arms circling her waist as his body began to shake with soft sobs.

“Oh, my sweet tiger, you are such a delightful mix of strength and vulnerability. There’s so much you don’t know about your own kind. Let me help you find your way. Let me help you come into your own.”

“How?” He lifted pleading eyes to her.

“Let me bind you.”

“How will that help?”

“Well for one, no one will ever be able to separate us, you’ll become immortal like me, and I’ll have eternity to teach you everything you need to know.”

“Would I have to go to hell with you when you leave?”

“That’s the beauty of it, tiger. If we do this, if you agree to it, then I don’t have to leave here. Ever. You and I and Liam can all be together, for eternity. You love him, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“In two days’ time, he becomes immortal. Bind yourself to me and so do you. You’ll never have to leave him, or me.”

“You can teach me about the other shifters?”

“My dear sweet boy, I can teach you anything you desire to know. We can go into the Black Spire Mountains and meet other shifters if you like,” she continued to stroke his hair as she crooned in a soothing voice, “We can hunt the monster that killed your mother together, and when we find it, we’ll destroy it! Once my full powers are restored, we will be a force to be reckoned with!”

He sat up abruptly, “You would help me avenge my mother?”

Her eyes danced with the anticipation of victory, “Oh yes my darling, we will crush the beast!”

He stared at her for a long moment then nodded, “Okay, I’ll do it!”

“Excellent!” she clapped her hands before conjuring an athame out of the ether, “Give me your hand.”

He eyed the ceremonial dagger as he considered the weight of his decision. The blade did not frighten him. She frightened him. But she also excited and mesmerized him. The thought of being bound to her for eternity galvanized him and he extended his hand to her willingly.

She grasped his hand in hers, “Look at me. I’m going to teach you the spell now. You must remember it and recite it perfectly. Can you do that for me?”

“I think I could do anything if it’s for you.”

“Good boy. Now listen carefully.”

Once she was convinced he had the invocation down, she returned her attention to his hand, still grasped in hers, and carved a symbol into his palm, then carved the same symbol into her own. Lacing their fingers together, she pressed her palm into his, mingling their blood as she intoned the incantation, “Magicam antiquam invoco, obedientiam tuam invoco, adstringo te mihi nunc et in perpetuum!”

Their hands began to glow as heat tingled against both palms. His resolve never wavering, he pressed his palm into hers as he repeated the chant she had taught him, “Tibi me libenter obligo, me tibi totum trado. Voluntatem meam trado tuis nunc et in perpetuum.”

The glow brightened until they couldn’t see their hands and the heat intensified to an almost painful level. There was a loud popping sound and the light, and heat, disappeared.

He felt an invisible force settle around his heart and tighten. Drawing his hand away from her, he turned it palm up to study the design carved into it. The blood was gone, his hand was clean and the design faded as he watched until his palm was just skin again. He flexed his hand open and closed. He couldn’t see the image she had carved there, but he could feel it. There was now an invisible cord connecting them, a thread he could follow, a tangible, undeniable force binding them together.

He opened his mouth to ask her what happened next but before he could get the words out, the door burst open, and Liam stumbled into the room, “Riley! Drake! What have you done?”

31 notes · View notes

crow-stars · 1 year

Text

au thoughts coming through, choo choo!

In the land of Twisted Wonderland, there are seven kingdoms.

The Kingdom of Roses, known for their extensive system of law and many rules. Their ruler acts as the judge, knowing of all the laws as they were the one to create them. Punishments are severe and some many call their ruler a tyrant, though only in secret.

The Kingdom of The Sun, known for their strong warriors and victories in battle. The knights from this kingdom are of the best and to beat one in battle is the highest honor. Many claim that the denizens of this kingdom are brash, with their ruler lazy and uncaring of their kingdom.

The Kingdom of Golden Coral, known for their merchants and trade dealings. A wealthy kingdom that is lavish in all areas and to have trade with this kingdom means wealth for the recipient. But it is highly advised to honor any deals made in this kingdom, no less the ruler, lest you be taken into debt and made a servant for as long as they desire.

The Kingdom of Burning Sand, known for their scholars and innovative thinking. The land used to be a barren place with no possibility of life, but ancestors were able to form this wasteland into a paradise. Many do question the ruler, finding them too lenient and naive, their advisor cruel and scheming.

The Kingdom of Crystals, known for the beauty the land holds and the potion makers that have a concotion for anything. Anything is made possible if you commission these potion maker's services. Rumour has it that the ruler is a cruel one, though, vain and obsessed with their beauty.

The Kingdom of Dead Fire, known for their inventions that make life easier for inhabitants. It is even said that this kingdom has the means to revive the dead, although not yet proven by the recluse of a ruler. The land is dangerous, though, rumours of monsters that can steal your soul freely roaming this land.

The Kingdom of Thorns, known for their prowess in the art of magic, denizens disiplined and loyalty strictly to their ruler. Their history is lush, architecture a marvel to experience on person. People are afraid of visiting this kingdom, afraid of the ruler who is said to be powerful enough to lay a whole kingdom to sleep.

In the midst of all these kingdoms is a, considerably, small village, having no real name.

So, people call it The Ramshackle Village, due to its desolate seeming enviorment. It has no truly notable features, only the ghosts that live alongside the villagers the only thing that seems worthy of talking about.

Recently, there have been rumours about some type of priest or priestess managing the village, fixing up the village and trying to make the village more prosperous. They say that this priest/priestess is some “beast tamer”, able to call upon the monsters and beasts that roam the land, have them at their beck and call. The most known one is a large feline beast, claimed to have blue fire emitting from its body, majestic in all ways but gluttonous in nature.

This priest/priestess is rumoured to have many abilities in addition to their title as beast tamer. But the one rumour that has swept through the whole of the land was their ability to cure a disease know as blot, sapping the victim of their life and leaving them for dead. Many had dismissed this, assuming this to just be tall tales. There are some who wonder how true this rumour is though...

Perhaps some kingdoms would like to employ the priest/priestess' services.

i got inspired by ghost and pals' aura. it's a banger, go listen. really considering doing more au stuff. back to christmas shit uuuugh

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland au #i love making aus #i need a name for this one though #hmmm... 🤔#i kinda wanna turn this into a little series kinda thing #but i can't keep adding stuff aaaaah!!

37 notes · View notes

seasonalsummers · 2 years

Photo

Misery Vex Redesign! I’ve been wandering around the DP Fanfic Discord and read about her, so i decided to redesign her because the concept atleast seemed fun. it took way longer than i thought it would be to design her because i got obsessed with researching.

-Ramblings about her design under the cut + Sketches-

when i read about her concept, i immediately thought about Fae and Fairies in folklore and how they were known to basically steal children or replace children for varying reasons, so i tried to make her seem friendly, despite her appearance, as some Fae are seen as beautiful or humanlike to the point that humans are more inclined to trust them and get tricked. Fae kidnap children for a varying of reasons, to turn them into a servant, into a soldier, to raise them as one of their own, to turn them into witches, etc. etc.

Alongside the Fae inspiration, i was also inspired by the Jorogumo yokai in Japanese folklore, mainly cause of the abundance of spider stuff in the original design. in Folklore, a Jorogumo is a yokai who transforms into a human woman to trick her victims into trusting her, i knew a bit about them thanks to Rottmnt so it was fun to research. the spider I’m basing her off is the Nephila spider, which is one of the species that Jorogumo can refer to, and they’re most well known for their golden silk. i tried to incorporate bright gold in her design but went with Bronzer gold and red webs instead. might sketch a more spider based form for her who knows

Finally in connection to both, i got inspired by the Snow Queen, especially after looking through concept art for the original plans for Elsa and also reading abit of the original story, nothing really ice based about her but i just reminded because of the Snow Queen abducting the boy and keeping him in her castle. so she has a similar attitude, that being that she isnt exactly a bad person however that doesnt mean she isnt a good person either. i also made her have a more regal look than the superhero/villain look of the original design since the era Pariah Dark seemed to have been active was around the Dark ages or earlier

I kept her as an Ancient, since i liked the concept and wanted to explore them more. instead of gloved hands, her hands are exposed and both of her arms contrasts against the rest of her body. she probably was more skeletal in the past but needed to look more human to be able to sneak past in the human realm. the cracks in her hands are from the battle in containing Pariah Dark, since he’s The Ghost King i’d think that he found a way to permanently scar other ghosts.

The Ancients probably dont have a true form, being beings shrouded in mystery, but they are able to transform their forms into what they want and how they see fit depending on what their duty is

Anyways enough rambling, have some sketches!

#I placed way more time and effort into this than i thought i would-#Misery Vex #danny phantom #character redesign #seasonalarts #danny phantom fanart #DP

17 notes · View notes

eliias-bouchard · 1 year

Note

hello! could you tell us more abt your OCs, esp Ceros?

HI HI HI HI HI ok so i would find the other posts i made but they're definitely way outdated now so im just gonna go over all the stuff.

ok so. there are two ways that magic works.

an individual is born with 'starsoul'. celestial objects are the only things with souls. them innately having souls makes them capable of doing magic no matter what (unless they lose their souls which is another story.) when an individual is born with starsoul, they can do small amounts of magic. most humans have either no starsoul, or enough to do significant amounts of magic. these magicians are called warlocks.

an individual receives a boon from a celestial, and is capable of drawing from their starsoul in order to perform magic. these magicians are called wizards.

there are six species total. all of them can do magic, but the three 'magic' species have their own magic and cannot perform star magic except in certain select cases (such as receiving a boon from a fallen celestial - we'll get onto those in a moment).

as a general rule of thumb, magic species live much longer than the 'non-magic' species.

the three magic species are;

harpies, whose magic is knowledge (or memory) theft. it acts mostly like a physical attack, where a harpy takes some knowledge from someone's mind and injures their body in the process. younger harpies are usually worse at this, leaving traces of the knowledge behind, and sometimes the victim can recreate the knowledge they lost. older harpies are better, and especially practised harpies can remove knowledge without the victim even noticing. harpies are humanoid creatures with dinosaur-esque arms. they have lots of feathers, especially on their extremities, and can glide from high places.

basilisks, whose magic is magic theft. they can steal someone's starsoul, or siphon energy from the link between them and their star. basilisks are snake-like creatures that are a little smaller than a horse.

dragons, whose magic is life theft. dragons can siphon away ones vitality, taking years off of your life. there are two subsets of dragons; large dragons and small dragons. dragons are primarily sea-dwelling species that often look more like sharks or whales than traditional dragons. large dragons are like basking sharks, taking in huge amounts of prey to add up to a large amount of life drain. small dragons typically go for prey larger than themselves, intending to siphon away enough life that the prey becomes weak and cannot fight back.

magic species often aren't percieved as their actual form due to the average person not expecting to speak to a harpy/basilisk/dragon. their humanoid form may have some discrepancies (strange eyes, sharp teeth, pointy ears, etc).

the three non-magic species are;

celestials, who are part of a celestial that ended up falling to earth. they are innately starsouled and the most capable at magic (although this doesn't make them the best at magic.) most celestials nowadays are small pieces of objects. in the past, during an era known as the pre-dawn, the planet was nearly constantly pummelled by celestial objects, which gave rise to the star-fathomed, huge megafauna. in order for a celestial to remain celestial on earth and not simply deteriorate into a nature spirit, they need to be part of a celestial object which is culturally important. this is why the star-fathomed are detiorating; nobody remembers what objects they're part of, and basically nobody worships them anymore. most are failing to retain their sapience, acting more and more like wild animals by the day.

humans. 's just average humans tbh. not much to say about them. humans are outliers among the non-magic species in that they're not innately starsouled.

. furries. i don't have a better name for them atm. some furries are anthropomorphic animals, some are mostly humanoid with lots of animal features. furries are the descendants of the first civilisations, who worshipped the star-fathomed. the star-fathomed gave the priests of these civilisations blessings; one in the form of starsouling, and one in the form of changing their forms to be more like the star-fathomed. the difference in furry appearance is from the deterioration of the starwalkers that gave them their appearance.

i mentioned nature spirits up there; they're just what happens when a celestial that isn't culturally important comes to earth. the area that the celestial landed in soaks up all the starsoul magic like a sponge, leaving a nature spirit; magically adept, but not a celestial.

oh another thing i didn't mention is warlock familiars. familiars are an extension of one's starsoul, manifesting outside of the warlock's body. the more 'monstrous' a familiar looks, the more powerful the warlock is. the sapience of a familiar depends on how powerful the warlock is and how they've nurtured their magic.

because of how wizards work, wizards usually take on apprentices which keep the wizard line alive. most wizards don't share their actual name, and instead pass a 'family name' down to their apprentice when they're knowledgeable enough.

there are two different magic groups; the Congregation of Colleges, headed by The Delegate, and the Lunar Council, headed by The Grandmaster of the Stars, Lusara, fifth of her name.

the Congregation is for warlocks, and works across many places with local governments to help them regulate magic. this means that the Congregation has basically total control over what magic can be taught in colleges.

the Lunar Council is for wizards, and is primarily localised. there are smaller councils in other locations which operate mainly without the oversight of Lusara. however, there are regular meetings where everyone comes to the Wingrove (a magical tree) to speak on the state of magic in their local area.

the previous Grandmaster of the Stars was murdered. Lusara is the only one who knows this.

OK ok characters time :D

here's lusara!! the first one is accurate for her accessories and hat and clothes, the second is accurate for her face and hair and stuff. she's fucking dope. she has mega anxiety cus she's way too young to be grandmaster and also thinks she's going to get murdered.

here's lane!! he's a harpy and he's the representative of magic species on the lunar council. he is such a bastard. he is so knowledgeable and old because he kills.

ceros. the motherfucker ever. he's a fallen celestial who made a bad deal with a basilisk called the hag and lost his soul. he's dying! but it's ok cus he intends to get his soul back somehow.

(the line there is to denote before and after he lost his soul.) he's such a bastard and i love him to death

sunflower....... ehehehehehhehe. so she's the messiah of a cult called The Sons of The Sun. she's the daughter of the sun. the sun isn't a celestial btw. don't ask me what it actually is because i have no fucking idea. all i know is that it's very powerhungry.

sunny (she prefers to be called sunnybut Will blow you up if you call ehr that) is considerably powerful but she can only do fire related magic. she's a horrendous person and so beloved to me

this is renée! our main character. she was just an ordinary alchemist, and then the catalyst hit.

the catalyst is the first part of the sun's plan to become the most powerful thing in existence. it killed and ate the other stars. so now the stars are gone, and suddenly nobody can do magic. i mean warlocks can but *barely* it's super difficult. renée's gonna travel to the capital and talk to the queen to see what she can do to help out.

this is the queen!! her name's idea and she's a basilisk. she's the reason renée and sunny meet.

this is valentine, a celestial warlock with amnesia. he's very weird.

this is hsi familair.

this is junius!! he's the head court warlock. that star eye of his is really not normal. he's pretty fucking cool though, if a little overworked.

this is his familiar!!

this is safiri!! she's a furry.

and here's her friend the scornet prophet!!!

this is solomon!! he's the apprentice of a wizard called The Wizard Graceira. graceira is currently in a coma because he performed magic after the catalyst. solomon has some fucking weird stuff going on with him.

uh idk if i can add more guys bcs image limit but there are so many ocs

4 notes · View notes

sorserah · 8 days

Text

Mechaniacs - Kirin Jindosh x OC - Chapter I

Summary The story of Dr. Addison Lynch, a neuroscientist who played an important role in the past and will again in the future. (fic from 2017) _________________________________________________ tags: unethical medicine, blood, violence, neurology, neuroscience, dishonored universe usual type of stuff, first person _________________________________________________ ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8598001/chapters/19717660

*click* „Dr. Addison Lynch, 20th day, the Month of Rain 1852 8:25 pm, subject 1B, male around 33, brain relatively intact. The Cortex, Cerebellum and Medulla display no signs of an infection on the outside. I am separating the lateral part of the temporal lobe to get a closer look at the Limbic system. The Limbic system displays no...“ I rearranged the magnifier and the light to get a better look, „... I correct, the posterior part of the amygdalae has turned dark red, black almost.“ *click* „This is marvelous.“ I whispered. Finally, I got my hands on a Nest Keeper and not a corpse simply inhibited by bloodflies. I had to steal and ship it personally to Addermire Institute. *click* „Victim probably wasn‘t infected for a long time. Hypothesis: Function of the amygdalae reduced, so victims won‘t feel fear while living near and for bloodflies. Hypothesis: Parts of the frontal lobe infected too, which leads to a complete change or loss of personality. Have to examine other bodies in different stages.“ *click*

This is going to be problematic. It‘s nearly impossible to leave Addermire since they locked it up, because of Dr. Hypatia. I still don‘t know why. My guess is she‘s working on a cure and they want to keep her safe from the Crown Killer. Anyways, I need other samples to continue my research and hopefully confirm the hypothesis. I need to satisfy my curiosity and get my reputation back. But last time was difficult enough: Bribing the captain of the supply ship with the coins I saved for years, one ‘Whisky and cigars‘ date with the Overseer responsible for departing the corpses, thank god he kept the mask on, stealing his keys after he fell asleep and carrying a rotting, 80kg body on my back for 2 hours. I am not sure if I can do it a second time.

I put the punch card out of the audio recorder and made a copy, which I stored in by bag. Always ready to vanish, if I have to.

Someone knocked at the door and didn‘t wait for me to answer. „Miss Lynch, it‘s bath time now.“ I sighed, closed my eyes and simply nodded. Very few of them actually acknowledge my title, since I am a woman and well maybe because I did something in the past that brought me here. But I like to think they are just sexists.

The bathroom was already hot and steamy, I undressed myself and climbed into the bathtub my arms resting on the sides. Only a white curtain isolates me from the guard sitting on a chair next to me. This time I didn‘t even bother to close it. He would place his chair so he can watch anyway. He was always watching.

I lost a lot of weight the last 2 years since I was brought here. I was provided better in Dunwall, even when the plague was at its worst. My ribs and hipbones are standing out now, my skin unhealthy pale with a purple undertone, dried, dark blood underneath my fingernails, my inner thighs were a little bruised from the night with the Overseer. I bit my lip and smiled, it wasn‘t that bad though.

„Ten minutes left Miss.“ I leaned over the sides with both arms, facing the guard, „Maybe...20 minutes?“ I asked, with my right thumb moving over my bottom lip, bringing it up to my mouth locking my eyes with his. „No, you ask this every time.“

I answered with the lowest voice I could do „And I know you want this. You like to watch, don‘t you?“ I moaned „I know you want to fuck me George, take me from behind, pull my hair. What‘s your kink? Shall I call you Daddy? I could do that.“ He shifted nervously „No, I...I don‘t fuck with maniacs, and my name is not George! 5 minutes and you have to leave!“ I laughed „Well, thats your loss. And it‘s Doctor.“ and dived underwater.

Twenty minutes later I was in my bed. It was next to a window, I could see a storm coming and the waves building up higher and higher below me. I extinguished the candle next to me and used the last few moments of moon light to write some sentences into my notebook before I stored it in my backpack. One last thing left to do then: taking my meds, waiting for them to kick in and letting the darkness consume my thoughts.

Eight hours later, I was up and dressed, my dark grey, shoulder long hair was brushed and my black eyeliner and dark red lipstick flawless on my face. „Ready for a new day!“ I exclaimed to my reflection.

Suddenly I heard screams, followed by rumbling and shattering glass. „Someone left the door open! WHERE ARE THE OTHER...“ I heard something was ripped off and a muffled sound. I held my breath, it was definitely on this floor. Just before I decided it was time to get my things and get the hell out, the guard "George" was thrown through my glass door, decapitated. I stood there in shock for 2 seconds, which was one second too long. The creature or what it was, and I looked at each other. She looked oddly like Dr. Hypatia but less human. „I always wondered what your flesh would taste like...“ Oh hell no. I grabbed my backpack and jumped right through the window next to my bed. If I had to decide how to die I am rather taking this option than to be decapitated and eaten by that thing.

Glass shattering, skin sliced open and then I hit the water surface and the world went black.

#dishonored #dishonored fanfic #dishonored fan fiction #kirin jindosh #kirin jindosh x OC #kirin jindosh fan fiction

0 notes

the-firebird69 · 5 months

Text

These people are giving us the right signals as to what they're up to and they're sending it out out loud and we are receiving them loud and clear and we're going to use them against them we do appreciate it his idea to use his passcode as code to indicate what you're up to is working he has several ways that he wants it to work and it's working in a few ways and his way and you guys are messing with it right now and it is exposing you and you don't care and be careless and we're going to make you pay if you're interfering with his computer we get to interfere with yours we're trying to take his body we're going to take yours we do it all day long and all night and Trump says as Billy Hicks to no avail and I guess he's right he's scraping around for stuff already and he's become a huge nuisance to everyone for a good year solid and isn't stealing all your stuff and losing it quite rapidly so he's the authority now this living complete TBI victim worm is the authority on what you should do to stay out of trouble with people who can kick your ass and his ass is grass apparently the Terminator movie began and he didn't tell anybody tonight is a night scene we are the two drop into town and there's a movie that happens before it with similar characters and it goes on for a while until night time and you might note Tommy F looks like Danny DeVito and Arnold Schwarzenegger dies over and over and he's a tough guy and this guy davido is asking for it and he is going to pay that's what they say we know that he pays it starts getting very aggressive with a lot of people and we mean Tommy f Schwarzenegger's not huge but he's big enough because that boy a lot of problems and he is starting to move now and going after him and the other s*** head and he's getting beat up yeah he's going after Trump too and his idiots and they don't really stand a chance but they need to stop what they're doing they say and what they're doing is kind of defeating themselves please do not want them doing what they're doing here they don't seem to be able to stop and we are going to crush them and it's tiring it's over it's been years of this ballache stuff and you're going to die because of a car that you took away from him and because you're cheap and you had tons of money and I don't care about money cuz you're stupid because your brains got blown out John remillard is such a genius everybody on Earth hates you and you're sticking your stupid face in front of everyone running around me being a dick with bread what a f****** useless pile of s*** you people are. And really you are so dumb should never gotten involved I'm sure my plan is thanking you though oh you clean you don't know anything poor little girl you have more miserable than she'll ever be and that was Brad and he said this you better stop and said why you're a f****** moron listen you're right about something we don't know what he's talking about that's right it's right over there Grandma's right there she's going to leave these people are going to leave and why the hell would JC and Mary's still be there and their ships out oh yeah the ship might be there

How's our son telling Brad to f*** off and they listen to it and he said you're probably right then he said I'm freaking out I can't stand this s*** anymore

It's grabbing us and putting New brains in and it's gross they said you guys weren't going to do anything against the empire I woke up and found out they want to use me up and kill me and I found out they're playing and I'm using it against them so he started smiling and saying this is f****** horrible and I'm kicking their ass now and only took 50 years which round says he's a genius and it says these people are more sick than they're controlling now and they're not in the businesses we could all be screwed he's doing what he can and it's like a lot of his thought it would be horrible but he's going to do something and man is it horrible the devil's real Satan is above the house I mean this is some really effed up stuff and so you start seeing it the clan is taking advantage of us and he had him do it because he needed to stop his max and we do understand something we got him to school getting them pay we're going to start to suck wind that's what it is

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues Hera

0 notes

blatt-writing-place · 2 years

Text

Pokemon Description No.1 : Flame

Species:Litwick

Nickname: Flame

Age: unknown

Gender: ♀️

Status: cought(previous wild), battle pokémon

Home: Galar region, Wyndon(house of her trainer)

Type: Fire/Ghost

Ball: regular Pokéball

Item: -/-

Ability: Flame Body

Attacks:

-Flamethrower

-Hex

Will-o-wisp

Poltergeist

Special Appearance features: -/-

Favorite food: Flame is a big sweet tooth, if you leave everything sweet in the kitchen , it's gone in the blink on an eye( her trainer still can't belive how a whole cake could fit in such a tiny creature, Flame just keep looking at him with an adorable and innocent smile while a few crumbs stick to her cheek)Interestingly though , while most pokémon and human like sweet OR spicy stuff , Flame loves both flavors, so you have to keep an eye out for spicy food as well.

Her favorite berry's are the spicy Cheri Berry ,the sweet Custap Berry and the sweet and spicy Liechi Berry

Personality: She's a bit shy and very careful towards strangers, many people are afraid of litwicks because they have the ability to take people's souls( she would never do that!), she didn't want to scare anybody, she makes sure that everything is alright before she comes near. But towards her trainer and people she already knew and like, she has a complete personality shift, she is a little trickster now and very playful, she steals food at every opportunity and loves to hide her trainers things. And whenever it looks like she's got in trouble because of her shenanigans, she just cute her way out of the situation with an absolute adorable smile, an innocent soark in her eyes and her tiny little arms stretched up in the air asking for a cuddle.

Hobbys: She loves playing and pranking(poor trainer is the main victim),her favorite game is her version of hide and seek,she hides something important and her trainer runs trough the whole house trying to find whatever she have hidden this time.

"Flame , you know i love you and i love playing with you , but PLEAS stop hiding my keys, i will be late for work AGAIN!"

Of course she is a big fan of training too, cause it will help her reach her dream. After a long day spent with training and battles,she loves cuddling and watching TV with her trainer an his other pokémon.

Dream: Her dream is it to evolve into a chandelure one day. Her trainer already found a Dusk stone and now they both wait for Flame to get strong enough to evolve into a lampent.

Miscellaneous+Trainer info:

Flame is the newest pokémon in the team

Her trainer works at the battle Café in wyndon. He rarely uses Flame in costumer battles since she's not strong enough yet, as one of the stronger staff trainer in this location he -of course-get's stronger opponents then the others ,to strong for Flame to have a chance yet, even gym leader visit this café sometimes.

They keep training on route 10 and around the town,sometimes at free weekends in the wild zone.

She met her trainer not a long time ago,that day she made her way trough the wild zone looking for a few berry's to eat until she fell into a raid den near the entrance to Hammerlocke . Suddenly a red light appeared and she dynamxed. A trainer passing the area saw this, not only was a Litwick the exact pokémon he was looking for, it was also a nice challenge to fight against a dynamaxed pokemon. It wasn't a long battle and it ended with the wild Litwick getting cought by the trainer. After a visit in the poké center she got released from the pokéball and they sat down on a bench. The man was thinking ,

"You know , i always loved the flames of Litwick's and it's evolution ... i think i call you Flame now" . And Flame chirped happily .

A few weeks ago, they visited the isle of armor for an open training weekend at the dojo, that's where the attack tutor taught Flame how to use the attack Poltergeist(it's now her favorite one because she can use it easily outside of battles to play).

#pokemon #pokemon description #litwick #oc #pokemon oc #written by blatt #art by blatt

1 note · View note

maximons · 3 years

Text

All Is Lost

Summary: Zombies have taken over the world, humanity on the edge of extinction. All hope was lost. Despite that, Wanda couldn’t seem to let go of Y/n, who had fallen victim to the plague herself.

Word Count: 2,263

Genre: Angst

Requested?: No

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, cannibalism, suicide, mentions of blood. Spoilers for Ep. 5 of What If...?

A/N: I know, I know, I’m gonna get into the stuff I promised soon. But for now, the Zombies episode inspired me and this came out. If you haven’t seen the episode yet, go watch it. Its amazing and depressing. Also this is DARK guys, probably the darkest thing I’ve ever written, so...Happy Reading!

The Zombie apocalypse was always something everyone joked about, but never something that anyone could actually predict.

Everything happened so quickly, Wanda could barely keep up. It’s hard to believe that everything was so normal only two weeks ago. Now, she was locked away with Vision in an abandoned military base in New Jersey. Desperate to survive for as long as possible while Vision worked on a cure.

Some of his experiments had been a success, most notably Scott Lang who he was able to revert back from his zombified state. However, the man was now only a severed head.

Despite the success, Vision was less than optimistic. For one, Scott was one of the first infected. While the cure worked on him, the android theorized that the disease has mutated greatly since then, and it was likely impossible to cure everyone. And even if he could, the technology to do so is beyond human comprehension and therefore doesn’t exist.

Vision might have all but given up hope, but Wanda didn’t. She couldn’t. She refused to give up on you.

Wanda and you have been best friends for as long as Wanda had been an Avenger. You were already a member of the team and greeted her with an open mind and open arms, despite all she had done. You had fire powers, and while your powers weren’t identical to Wanda’s, you still offered some basic tips and tricks to keep such explosive powers at bay.

It wasn’t a surprise that she fell in love with you.

But her stupid fear had to get in the way, and when you came to confess your own feelings for her, she panicked and rejected you. You were so heartbroken, Wanda didn’t need to read your mind to know that.

And it kills her everyday knowing that that was the last interaction she had with you. The last one with you as yourself anyway.

All that remained now was the flesh hungry, blood thirsty monster that wore your, now rotting, skin.

This wasn’t you, she knows that. She looked into your mind and saw no trace of the woman you once were, the one she loved with all her heart. She couldn’t feel you, you were gone.

Despite this, Wanda couldn’t let you go. She couldn’t handle losing you entirely. She already lost almost everyone.

She managed to convince Vision to keep you in the base for testing. You were locked behind a large steel door, with only a window to see you through. But you were here, and that’s all Wanda cared about.

The cure wasn’t working for you. Your powers caused it to incinerate when it entered your system, proving it to be ineffective. Still, she refused to give up.

Vision thought it best to terminate you after the failed tests, but Wanda begged him not to. Knowing he couldn’t overpower her, and sensing his friend’s distress with anything that comes to you, he agreed. As long as Wanda had it under control.

She doubted he knew that she was luring innocent survivors into the base so you could feed on them, but she did what she had to do.

Wanda spent most of her days sitting outside of your cell. The first few days, you were ravenous. Banging on the walls and trying to burn them down, growling and screeching with the inhuman noise that took over your vocal chords, but you didn’t manage to break free. After a while, it seemed you have given up, and just sat in place. Only moving when Wanda opened the cell and let some of your ‘food’ in.

There were times where Wanda thought that maybe, just maybe, the cure was working more than they thought. You seemed to have recognized her, your facial expressions formed into ones that she had recognized and missed dearly. But that hope quickly died when she would peek into your head and still sense nothing.

“Hey, Y/n.” Wanda walked up to outside your cell and sat cross-legged like she did everyday. Your head rose, staring at her with your now glowing yellow eyes. “Still no progress on the cure, but don’t worry, I’m not giving up yet.” You offered no response, not that she expected one. “It’s hard. It’s only getting worse out there...” She sighed as she trailed off. She raised her hand to the glass, like she always did. “I’m going to figure it out...we’re gonna get you back to normal, and I’m going to tell you every day how much I love you. I miss you so much, but...we’re almost there. I can feel it...” Wanda’s voice started choking up, as tears ran down her face. “We deserve our happy ending.”

Her hand was still pressed against the glass as she finished her speech. She was about to lower it, but then something unexpected happened. You stared at her hand curiously, beginning to raise your own. Wanda watched, smile forming on her face as your arm made it’s way to the glass.

“Wanda! Please come here, we have a situation.” You had almost pressed your hand against Wanda’s, when Vision’s voice interrupted. Your attention turned to the direction it came from and you let out a growl, clearly angry at the interruption. Wanda sighed in disappointment, but she tried not to let it take over. You still showed massive improvement, something worth reporting back to Vision. “It’s okay.” She soothed you. “I’m going to go see what he wants then I’ll be right back, okay? I know you’re hungry, I’ll get you some food too.” You didn’t offer a response as she walked off.

“Vis! I have to tell you-” Wanda began as she walked into the main room, but cut herself off at the new faces. She didn’t recognize the bald woman with the spear or the wimpy looking man in a workers uniform, but she was familiar with Peter. What surprised her most though, was Bruce Banner. A man she hasn’t seen in over three years. “What is going on?”

“I ran into them outside the premises. Apparently word has gotten out about the cure.” Vision answered before turning his attention back to the guests. “As I told you, I am afraid we cannot help you. The cure seems to be a moot point.”

“Well, what about-” Peter began, but he was interrupted by a new voice.

“For something you have no hope for, you sure don’t have a problem bringing in new test subjects.” Wanda recognized Bucky Barnes’ voice. She turned around, and her eyes widened as she saw King T’challa on his arm, struggling to stand on his one remaining leg.

Shit.

“My king! We thought you dead.” The bald woman exclaimed in relief and surprise.

“Your highness. I was not aware you were in the base.” Vision said, confused on how that got by him. It didn’t take him long to figure out why. “Wanda...”

“I’m sorry.” Wanda whispered, knowing she was caught. “The cure wasn’t working on Y/n, and in order to keep her at bay, I had to feed her.”

“So you fed her our King?” A spear was raised to her throat, threateningly.

“It was nothing personal, I promise. I have her under control and the cure is starting to work, I know it. We just need a little more time!”

“Why not just kill her? You lured innocent people to their deaths just for her when there a couple million more Zombies out there that you could use for testing. Ones that have a chance of being cured.” The whole room went quiet after Bucky said that.

“Uh oh. Shouldn’t have said that.” Wanda heard Scott say, but she was too busy glaring at Bucky. Her eyes started to go red, but before she could do anything, she noticed the spear held to her throat begin to glow red and melt. The woman dropped the spear as it began to burn her hands.

“Did it just suddenly get like, super hot?” Peter asked as he began to fan himself.

“Oh no...” Wanda trailed off. She looked up to notice the steal walls that led to your cell begin to melt. “You’ve done it now...she hasn’t eaten in days.” Before anyone could respond, the steel doors melted completely. The man in the uniform was unfortunate enough to be standing in front of it, as a strong burst of flame shot out and incinerated him on the spot. Only a second later, you flew out the door, covered in flames as you hovered above everyone.

Wanda watched in horror as you began to fight everyone. They weren’t holding up very well, and that’s when Wanda finally realized what she had done. This wasn’t you, and if you were still here, you would hate to see your body be used to attack and kill others.

“Vision! Get us out of here!” She heard Bruce yell, and Vision shot a blast towards the wall, blowing it up and letting everyone out. Wanda turned her focus back to you, you watched them starting to escape and you began to fly after them, but a red mist surrounded you before you could. You turned your head, starting to growl, but stopped when you saw it was Wanda.

“Y/n. Stop...” You tilted your head, still struggling to move as Wanda came closer. She took a chance and reached up, gently placing a hand on your face. “I am so sorry...you never deserved this...” Your face softened at the touch, beginning to show the signs of emotion that Wanda desperately held onto. However, it was clear now that it was too late.

You snapped out of it, as you managed to break free from Wanda’s hold. You opened your mouth wide, intent on biting and feeding on her, but something stopped you. You hesitated, and Wanda noticed. You settled for pushing her aside to the ground as you reignited yourself and flew out of the base.

Wanda picked herself up after a moment, intent on stopping you. She ran past Okoye’s body, charred and eaten, but she was sure there was little time until she turned. She ran faster to where you were, now facing off against Bucky. She sprinted further, about to take off and fly when she paused.

Vision was face down on the ground. She kneeled next to him, glowing red hand turning over his body, afraid of what she’ll see. Once he was turned, Wanda gasped at the sight. The mind stone was torn out of his head.

“Oh no...no, no, no...” She held his body, tears slowly building as she mourned the loss of her best friend. She had officially lost everything. “I am so sorry Vis...I’m going to make this right, I promise.”

She heard Bucky scream. She looked over to see you start to feed on him. She saw Bruce, Peter, Scott and T’challa in the distance, making their way to the jet. They were your next target.

No. Wanda wasn’t going to let that happen. It ends now.

She used her powers to propel herself forward, landing directly in your path. You growled at her yet again as she used her powers to hold you. “Y/n...please, stop.” You struggled to get out of the hold, but Wanda held on. “This isn’t you...you wouldn’t want this...I love you more than anything, and I’m so sorry...I hope one day, you’ll forgive me.”

Wanda used her powers to grab the gun laying by Bucky’s side. She held in to your head, ready to pull the trigger...but she couldn’t. She let out a scream of frustration and dropped her hold on both you and the gun. The gun fell to the ground, but you haven’t moved.

“I can’t do it...I...I’m not strong enough...” Wanda began crying, shutting her eyes and waited for you to finish her off. She failed everyone, no one deserved death more than her. She opened her eyes when nothing came. You stood, staring at her with a tilt of your head. The yellow of your eyes dimming as you stared.

“W....Wan...” You struggled to let out, but it was enough for Wanda to hear. She cried even harder. She was right, you were almost there...but it was too late now.

You took in your surroundings as best you could, you didn’t have a lot of awareness, but you knew enough to piece everything together. You saw the influx of zombies starting to enter to base. Everyone needed to get away. You turned back to Wanda, and you knew what you had to do. You felt the little control you had start to slip away.

You bent down and picked up the discarded gun. You shakily pointed it to your temple, the control slipping away faster and faster. “Love....you....I...sorry...” You managed to croak out. Before you could lose control completely, you pulled the trigger.

Wanda watched in horror as you shot yourself in the head. Pieces of your brain landing on her, your blood drenching her. She looked down to see your body, half your face still together, but you were gone. Truly gone.

She knelt down sobbing, as she held your body. After a moment she looked up to see the Hulk appear as the zombies began to overwhelm the base. She saw the jet take off, and she gave a weak smile. They got away. Wanda’s job was done. This is where her story ends. All was lost for her.

So when the zombies finally reached her, she didn’t fight back. Accepting her death with open arms.

Epilogue

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you

238 notes · View notes

jackrrabbit · 4 years

Text

Runaways /// Dabi x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You were like an older sister to Dabi back when the two of you were teen runaways together; now that he’s found you as an adult, it’s not going to be so easy to get rid of him.

A/N: I could write a term paper on all of Dabi’s pathologies in this fic...I forgot how much I love writing smutty angst. Good shit 👌

I was planning on making this a ficlet so it’s kinda structured like that even though it ended up a full-length piece. Also, Dabi says some bullshit about sex work that I absolutely do not agree with or condone so please keep that in mind.

➠ see also: [homeowners association]

Tags/warnings: Dabi victimizes you, noncon/dubcon, light yandere, threats, cheating, NTR kinda?, mentions of past sex work, degradation, rough sex (breath play, impact play, crying), mild violence, very brief mentions of past child abuse in the Todoroki household, sad stuff/angst idk lol, *Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood plays in the background*

Dabi would know you anywhere.

You’re different now, which makes sense. It’s been years. Your old uniform of raggedy denim and hand-me-down leather has been replaced with a prim linen dress, designer label at the collar. You used to dye your hair religiously (it was neon pink when he saw you last) but now it’s styled back to your natural shade, a color he only saw back then when your roots grew out. You smell good, expensive. It does take him a second to recognize you without smudged pencil eyeliner drawn under your eyes like in the old days, but once he catches your gaze the realization is immediate.

It’s you. You. You.

You recognize him too, but your reaction is different—shock, then panic; you tug the arm of the man at your side, urging him to walk faster so you can pass Dabi on the sidewalk. The rejection stings for a second, but he isn’t too surprised. You did abandon him, after all.

Dabi doesn’t let it bother him. You’re not going to get away that easy. He pulls you into conversation, grinning when you reluctantly introduce him to your companion (who is, apparently, your husband) as an old friend from school. You didn’t go to school—Dabi knows that, and you know that, but your husband doesn’t. Which means your husband isn’t aware of your sordid past as a runaway.

This is going to be fun.

Once he knows you’re in town, he doesn’t have much trouble finding you. Your husband is a very wealthy man, well-known in this city now that he’s moved here. So this is what you’ve been up to all these years? Shacking up with some ugly motherfucker who’s at least 20 years your senior because he can afford to dress you up in pretty things and take you on overseas vacations? Dabi has to admit, he wouldn’t have thought it of you. Back when he knew you, you were so sincere, such an idealist, even in your darkest nights.

Then again…you always were willing to get your hands dirty in exchange for a warm meal and a place to sleep. Maybe you haven’t changed as much as you think.

Dabi comes to your house in the middle of the day when your husband’s at work and you’re stuck at home because that’s what you are now, a housewife. From a cocksucking whore to a pretty housewife with a dirty little secret. He’s getting hard just thinking about it as he watches your internal debate on whether to let him in or not. Eventually guilt wins out and you usher him inside, hoping the neighbors didn’t see a known villain lurking on your doorstep.

You make Dabi coffee (and aww, you remember exactly how he likes it). He gets you to talking, and you don’t seen surprised to learn about his current line of work; when he presses you, you admit that you’ve been following him in the news. Your life, in comparison, has been wholly uninteresting: you met a man, he proposed, and you married him. Very little has happened to you since. After a long silence you timidly apologize to Dabi for leaving him behind when you two were teenagers, and he tells you he understands.

He doesn’t forgive you.

Overall, things are good, he tells you. But you know, sometimes he misses the old days. Being on the run with you, stealing food from gas stations, breaking into fancy summer homes and pretending the two of you lived there. Stitching up each other’s cuts, because one of you had always gotten in a fight in the past few days. Sometimes he still has dreams about the smell of the balm you used on his fresh burns…and your cool hands, smoothing gently across the tender skin on his face, but he doesn’t say that.

You look down into your monogrammed coffee mug and tell him you know what he means.

When you turn your head like that, Dabi can see the tiny dots running up the side of your ear where your old piercings have scarred over from lack of use. Do you remember when he gave them to you? You did his first, running a needle through the lonely flame of your lighter (he offered to use his quirk, but it was still hard for him to control then so you declined) and then threading the metal through his ear. You promised it would only hurt for a second, and you were right, so he let you do the others.

Then you offered to let him do yours. Just one on each ear—you already had an impressive collection of piercings, but you wanted to let him return the favor, so he did. You were older and more experienced and had lived on the streets for longer, so when he held the needle in his hand and heard your voice saying you trusted him, it was the first time he ever thought of you as fragile, something delicate, something that he was capable of harming.

He chose twin helix piercings for you, cresting the shell of each ear, silver band rings to match his. When they were done you pulled him to a mirror and asked him what he thought. It hadn’t been long since he got the worst burns on his face (the ones under his eyes, wrapping around his chin and down his neck) and he was still getting used to the knowledge that the ugly, wrinkled scars were never going to heal. “I look like…” he started.

A monster. A freak. A victim.

“A badass,” you said. “You look fucking cool. Any asshole who wants to pick a fight with you will take one look and know you’ve been through worse shit than whatever they can dish out, and that’s something to be proud of.”

Now that Dabi thinks about it, he probably wanted you even then.

…But the longer he reminisces, the more nostalgia’s going to distract him. He came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to have coffee with you and talk about the good old days. What he’s about to take from you—what he’s about to make you give—is long overdue.

You’ve still got a little fight in you. Dabi likes that. But you’ve gone soft, filling out and losing muscle in places where you used to be lean and hard from the constant running and fighting of your old lifestyle. Besides, even if you were as strong as you’d been back then, he’d still be stronger than you—he’s a man now, and it’s incredible how small and weak you seem now that he can look at you as a man.

Were your punches always this light? No way…and your wrists couldn’t have always been this delicate. It’s really no trouble at all for him to wrestle you down to the couch and pin you there so he can tear off your stupid little housewife dress and tug your panties down past your ankles.

Once he’s got you fully naked, though, you pretty much give up trying to fight him off. It’s sad, really—like you’re remembering the past, remembering all the times you let other men hold you and fuck you just so you could have enough money to take yourself and Dabi to McDonalds for a few days. And now look, you’re plenty well-fed, but Dabi’s the one holding you down against your will. Funny how things change like that.

He does appreciate your submission, since it gives him the chance to get a decent look at you. The years have been kind—you look so much healthier than you used to. No more visible ribcage stretching out your skin; no more unhealthy pallor from going outside only at night. Your hands are as soft and manicured as if you’ve never done a day’s work in your life, a far cry from the bitten nails and bloody knuckles of your youth. It’s good to see you like this, and he lingers for a second, drinking in the sight of you and committing you to memory.

Dabi’s pictured this moment for years. He used to think he’d savor it, be sweet with you, slow and gentle to show you what you were missing with the trashy guys you used to hang out with. But now, hey—he’s the trashy one, he’s the one who wants to hurt you and own you and ruin you. May as well act like it.

Your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?

You’re unbelievably tight for a former whore. Dabi can barely hold out when he first pushes into you, licking the tears off your cheeks when apparently it hurts too much for you to keep up a brave face. It takes real effort to fuck himself all the way into you, pushing past the tense squeeze of your muscles while you…well, you’re not exactly wet, but he’ll get you there. As soon as his hips are grinding up against yours, he’s hitching your legs up on his shoulders and pounding you into your stuffy antique couch so deeply that he thinks it might splinter into pieces underneath the two of you.

God, you’re so, so, tight. Dabi feels like a virgin with his cock buried inside you, biting his lip so he doesn’t cum in thirty seconds and thrusting into you with a rhythm that comes from nothing less than pure animal instinct. And you’re getting into it too. Can you tell that your pleading and begging him to get off you is turning into moaning? Can you feel your hips bucking weakly back against his, reverting to the position of the submissive bitch your body remembers even if your mind has tried to forget?

It’s perfect, right and good and perfect, everything Dabi’s been waiting for since he first knew what it was to want someone—no, not just someone. You. It’s always been you. A person never forgets their first love, right? It’s perfect, except—except you won’t look at him, you keep looking off to the side and sniffling, and that’s not going to cut it. So he slows down and wrenches your head back to center and makes you kiss him, sliding his tongue over yours and trying to see if he can feel the place where you used to have a piercing there, too. It’s kind of thrilling, actually—wondering whenever his face dips into yours if you’re going to bite him, if he’ll come back from you with blood in his mouth.

He’s only got to thumb over your clit a couple times before you’re clamping down on him, your body begging to be used and abused. Your husband hasn’t been treating you right, though Dabi doubts the old bastard can even get it up without a blue pill. Sure, you look like a sweet little doll, so darling and delicate and breakable, but Dabi knows you better than that. You’re strong, you can take it. He knows you want it rough, so that’s how he’ll give it to you—and hey, hey, he can feel your cunt quivering around him—you’re cumming, aren’t you? So you like it. You like it.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long before, but when you cum and tighten and squeal so high he thinks you could lose your voice, the tension in his abdomen rises up and he digs his fingers into your hips and—shit, you’re saying something, what are you saying? You’re pleading, begging him not to cum inside—but, ohhhhhh fuck he can’t help it, he can’t, he can’t, he’s cumming all the way deep into your tight little snatch, cockhead jutting up at your cervix, fucking his semen all the way through you until your slit is smeared white from top to bottom.

Stop crying. Dabi’s sick of hearing you cry.

You’re still pretty nimble, even though your current exercise regimen probably doesn’t extend beyond periodic jogs around your neighborhood and weekly pilates with all the other bored trophy wives. He’s kind of surprised when as soon as he lifts himself off of you, you have the strength to roll off the couch and scramble around on the floor for your clothing.

You don’t say anything, which he wasn’t expecting. You don’t scream at him, demand that he leave, or ask him how he could do this to you after everything the two of you went through together. You probably still think of yourself as an older sister when it comes to him.

When you’d first met the scarred kid trying and failing to live off the streets, you knew he wasn’t cut out for this. He’d known pain before, plenty of pain (icy-blue fire roasting the skin off his face—spiral fracture from callused hands twisting his arm behind his back—cold, aching muscles after what he thinks is the fifth hour spent locked in a closet), but he’d never known hunger. Hunger was a different kind of beast, one that would chew the kid up and spit him out and leave him broken if you didn’t take him under your wing, so you did.

It wasn’t like you had much of anything to spare, but you made it work. For a few years. He didn’t talk at first, but he took what you gave him, so you gave him what you could: food, if you had it; a place to sleep at night; the knowledge you’d gathered in your own years as a runaway on how he was supposed to survive in a world that didn’t care whether he lived or rotted away in a gutter. You cared.

Until you didn’t.

‘Going to be traveling alone for a while. Don’t wait for me. I’m sorry,’ your note had read. You left it in his backpack along with $43 in cash—not much, but he knew it was more than you could afford. It was all you had.

And now you have all of this! Don’t you feel lucky? You have the rich husband who barely looks at you, the big house with so many empty unused rooms it makes him sick, more food than you could possibly eat in one lifetime. All of that, and you also have Dabi’s semen leaking out of your cunt. It’s a real rags-to-riches story, he thinks.

Dabi picks a cigarette out of his jacket and you stop fixing up the buttons on your dress to ask him not to light it inside. How will you explain the smell to your husband? Every move you make, every syllable that comes out of your mouth, is weighed down by despair. You look like you’ve been beaten.

He lights the cigarette anyway.

///

Before he had you the first time, Dabi thought once would be enough. Pretty naive, huh?

He makes it his mission to fuck you in every room of your husband’s gluttonously enormous mansion (what with your history Dabi has a hard time thinking of the house as yours, and considering the way you tiptoe around and seem like you’re afraid to move so much as a vase, he suspects you feel the same). There’s a lot of rooms.

When he shows up at your door again you don’t even bother to hear him out, instead just trying to shut it on him, but he forces his way in. You wouldn’t want to make him mad, would you? Not when he’s got such a filthy secret hanging over your head? Will your husband keep paying for your designer shopping trips when he knows you’re a street rat who used to steal everything she wore? Will he still kiss you goodnight when Dabi tells him you used to wrap those pretty lips around strangers’ cocks for money?

If you want Dabi to keep quiet, you’re going to have to convince him the best way you know how. A cockwhore is a cockwhore. That’s not the kind of stain you get to wipe away with time and distance and expensive clothing.

In the kitchen: standing up, your back to his front and your hands barely holding you up on the counter, so hard and rough and deep that the dishes are rattling in the pantry. One of your teacups falls out of the glass china cabinet and shatters into a million fragments in a four foot radius over the tiled floor. Neither of you notice until after. Blunt red lines press themselves into the tops of your thighs where he’s shoving your body into the edge of the counter and there are bruises on your tits from how hard he’s groping you.

In the dining room: sitting on the edge of the table, one of your legs hiked up beside you and the other on a chair while Dabi kneels on the ground in front of you, his head between your thighs and his tongue flicking over your pussy. You start off thinking that you’re going to have to sanitize the entire mahogany surface before you can eat off it again and then he licks his lips and sucks on your throbbing clit and you don’t really think about anything else after that.

In your husband’s study: doggy-style on the floor in front of the fireplace, facedown, his body folded over yours, pressing you so deep into the tacky lion-skin rug that you can taste it. He sighs in your ear—actually, you’re not sure if it’s a sigh or a growl—and his hand comes up to cover yours. You feel the metal stitches and the rough burned skin scraping on your own and it reminds you that it’s him. It’s Dabi.

(A few days after his 13th birthday, the Dabi you used to know told you that he was going to dye his hair—he wanted to be unrecognizable, and you understood, so you found some old scissors and stole hair dye from the pharmacy and you spent three long hours chopping his hair into rough spikes and painting it black. When you washed the dye out of his hair in the sink, your hands were stained inky black too. When he saw, he looked worried and weaved his fingers in with yours and asked if the dye would hurt your skin if it stayed on too long.

And you looked back at this kid—small for his age then, burned by his own quirk, trying so hard to look older and tougher than any 13-year-old should have to be, and you thought to yourself, I would die for you.)

Now you hear Dabi growling out your name and squeezing your hand as he reaches his climax and you think, I would kill you if I could.

///

Dabi saves the master bedroom for last.

Your husband is hosting a party at your house. Dabi knows because you begged him not to come today, looking up at him with those doe-like eyes, offering things you never would have offered if it weren’t important to you that he stay away on this particular evening. But he still comes to crash it. He arrives just minutes before your husband does, and you have barely enough time to tuck him away on the dark bedroom balcony and pull the curtains closed before your husband is opening the door and greeting you.

Dabi settles himself into one of the tasteful Adirondack chairs on the balcony and listens to your voice, or at least what he can hear of it through the sliding glass door. You’re sweeter with your husband than you are with Dabi, and he should’ve known you’d be, but it still makes him hate your husband more than he already did.

On the other hand, there’s something strained and high and nervous in the way you’re speaking. Probably because your husband is standing about twenty feet away from the man you’re cheating on him with.

It takes a while for the two of you to dress for the party, but finally Dabi hears you tell your husband that you’d like to take a little longer to get ready and bid him goodbye. “Love you,” you say to the old man as he leaves the room, so casually Dabi might not have heard it if he wasn’t listening.

Then you’re opening the door and ushering him inside and telling him anxiously that he has to get out before anyone sees him. But, oh, you look nice like this, dolled up in your evening gown and makeup and diamonds, trying to pull him to the door even though you must know by now that he’s not going to leave it there. Instead of following, he backs you up onto the bed and peels down the straps of your dress and slides his hands up under the skirt, and all the while he can’t stop thinking about what you said to your husband.

You used to say that to Dabi.

The first time it was an accident—you’d mentioned it off-hand during a night when it was snowing and his unnaturally high body temperature was the only thing keeping the two of you alive. “God, I love you,” you’d said, draping your arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close to share his heat.

It had stunned him and you could probably tell. Maybe the next few times were just you taking pity on a kid who had never been told so casually and so simply that he was loved. But eventually you meant it, the little love you’s before you went to sleep or when one of you went off to do something alone for a few days—a familial love borne of mutual reliance. For the years Dabi was a runaway with you, you were the only person he could trust, and he knows the feeling was mutual.

Now he wants you to tell him you love him again.

It would be hot, wouldn’t it? You telling Dabi you love him while he forces you into a mating press on the bed you share with your husband. Isn’t that hot? You’re never going to be able to sleep on these sheets again without remembering his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, his cock filling you in ways you haven’t been filled since you were 19.

How are you gonna lay next to your husband in this sad cold bed? ‘Cause that old fuck isn’t touching you, Dabi knows that much—if he was, he’d’ve noticed by now that you’re always covered in bite marks and hickeys that he didn’t give you. How are you gonna sleep at night knowing what a nasty slut you are, telling another man you love him?

So say it. Say you love him.

Oh, you’re going to be like that, aren’t you? What did he tell you about being a fucking brat when he’s talking to you? See if you’re still so defiant when he’s got his hand stroking the length of that pretty throat and then sealing down on it, squeezing gently on the veins running up the sides of your neck, not too hard, but enough that you’re probably getting a little dizzy while he continues to fuck into you. Does it hurt? Your face is turning pink. Uh-uh-uh, don’t try to pull his hand off, or he’ll show you just how good he is with his quirk these days.

You’re trying to choke out the words but you can’t quite make them make sense. There’s something endearing about the way your whimpers vibrate through the skin of Dabi’s palm, how he can hear you as well as feeling you. Oh—could you say his name too? He knows you’re feeling all fucked-out and wet and sloppy, every moan rising and falling in time with his cock stretching your pussy open, but can’t you give it a little more effort? He’s sure you can get his name out if you really try.

And if you’re not going to cooperate, Dabi may as well just dig the heel of his knuckle into your windpipe, because you really do tighten up so deliciously when you cough and sputter like that. Fuck, if you keep doing that, he’s going to cum, gonna cum right here in your syrupy pussy and spill it all over your marriage bed—but no, he wants to hear you say it first, so when you’re gagging and turning red and your eyes are watering he finally stops choking you, loosening his grip just enough that his hand is resting on your neck in a lover’s touch. It takes you a second and your voice is so hoarse he can barely hear it, but then you’re speaking and something jumps in his chest—

“I…I love—love y-you, Touya!” you sob. “I love you! I—love you, Touya—Touya—Touya—!”

And ah fuck it’s almost exactly right, your voice saying you love him, saying his real name, a name he hasn’t heard for years because you’re the only one who really knows it anymore—but you’re crying, real heavy sobs while you gulp in frantic lungfuls of oxygen. Your ribcage is heaving underneath him and—god, fuck—your guts are clenching, sucking down on every inch of his cock, every vein—

—oh shit fuck fuck he’s cumming, and he presses his face into your neck, into your hair, kissing you and thinking I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you—

—please stay, forever.

///

When he’s done, he goes for another round just to make sure you’re going to have cum dripping down your thighs when you go back to the party. No panties, unless you want him to walk through the grand foyer with all the other guests on his way out.

You don’t look at him as you fix your dress and your hair and wipe at your smeared makeup. With your eyeliner rubbed down to the bottom of your eyes, Dabi’s reminded a little of how you used to look—and the reminder is doubled when you slide your legs across the side of the bed and limp over to your vanity, walking hesitantly, your hips rocking from side to side. Damn, did he fuck you that hard?

Reminds him of the old days, you shuffling back to the hideout with that same awkward pain in your gait, purple marks around your neck, and a dim smile decorating your face—for his sake. Oh, and cash in your pockets. You’d tell him that the two of you were going out to eat that night and refuse to let him look at the injuries. God, it made him angry, it still makes him angry just thinking about it—angry at the men who bought you for treating you like that, angry at you for letting them. Angry at himself for not being old enough or strong enough or rich enough to stop them.

Anger, yes…and other things too. There had been a sick, insidious part of him that wanted to be in their position. He’d hated himself for it back then, until you left and the desire to punish you for abandoning him got twisted up with the desire to own you and keep you his. Maybe if he let himself think about it, he’d still hate himself for what he’s doing to you.

By now, you’re too good at covering up the bruises. A sweep of foundation and powder passes over each hickey he left on your throat and it’s like he never touched you. You have to push him off the bed so you can strip the sheets and replace them. When you’re done, you tell him to wait a few minutes after you leave to sneak out the back and he makes another half-joke about joining the party and introducing himself to your old man—

—and you shove him up against the wall with all the strength left in you, wrap your hand around his neck, and dig your fingernails under the line of piercings in his cheek. If he even looks at your husband, if he even thinks about it, you’ll rip his goddamn face open, you tell him in a low snarl.

It’s an empty threat (you and he both know who would win in a physical altercation) but there’s real hatred behind it. Dabi hasn’t seen that kind of fire in your eyes since he found out you became a trophy wife. It makes him want to have you again so he does, pulling your arms away from his face, standing and holding you up against the door to your bedroom, forcing you to wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him to keep from falling.

He’s lubed up by his own cum, and the wet squelching of your pussy just reminds him what a mess you’re going to be when you return to high society tonight. Maybe your husband will be able to smell it on you—the cum, the sex, the other man who’s been keeping his darling wife warm while he’s at work.

Well, probably not. If that stupid fucking cuckold hasn’t figured it out by now, there’s not much of a chance he’ll get it on his own. As Dabi sinks into your tight, gummy cunt again, he decides that he might just have to help the process along. A man deserves to know if his wife is being unfaithful, right?

///

Your husband’s office phone number is written on a post-it note that’s tacked to the desk of his study. It takes Dabi 40 minutes and $30 to buy a burner cell phone, leave a message on the man’s voicemail, and toss the burner in the kitchen trash at your house while you’re in the shower.

The message is short and straightforward. Dabi introduces himself as ‘the man who’s sleeping with your wife’, describes the floor plan of your husband’s house and what position he fucked you in for each room, and finally finishes it off with the evidence—the precise size and location of every hickey he’s left on your body that will still be visible by the time your husband returns from work.

Dabi almost wishes your husband had picked up the call—he’d’ve had a good time explaining in pornographic detail the way your tits look under those too-formal dresses, the way you moan when you cum in his mouth, the way you told him you loved him while he choked you out—with your husband in the house, no less. But this is fine too.

Besides, it’ll be so fucking funny if someone else at your husband’s company hears the message before he does.

///

Whore. Your husband called you a whore.

You’ve been called a whore a lot, actually. More than most people. You should be used to it by now. But it’s different when your husband says it. Your husband, the man who rescued you from a life of poverty and starvation, the man who has given you everything you own, the man who slid a ring onto your finger under a wedding arch and promised to love you in good times and in bad. The man you’ve almost convinced yourself you love back.

He called you a whore and slapped you when you tried to explain yourself and shoved you out the door and locked it. You can still hear his voice telling you the only place he wants to see your face again is in a casket.

So that’s why when Dabi comes to collect you, you’re hugging your knees to your chest on your front porch in your shiny lace-edged slip nightdress, hair in a mess around your head and your lip bleeding onto your chin. Your feet are so cold—your husband didn’t even give you time to put shoes on before he threw you out.

The night is cool and dark but the porch light buzzes on for half a minute when Dabi climbs up the steps to come crouch next to you on the doorstep. You try not to look at him, but he tilts your face toward his, electric-blue eyes skimming over the red mark and blue-black discoloration blossoming across your cheekbone; the blood drying on your split lip.

Dabi asks calmly if your husband hit you, and you nod.

Good, he tells you, and his body lights up blue in a roiling cloud of flames. He’s been waiting for an excuse to kill that old fuck.

The fire is like lightning, bright and ghostly in the darkness. The crackling of the flame eats away at the heavy silence of the night and you crawl back from the dry heat of it, sure you can feel your eyebrows singeing from being near. Dabi looks different backed by the inferno—bigger, crueler. Frightening. He reaches at the door but you shout at him to stop.

Why? Don’t you think he should suffer, after what he did to you?

But your fists clench by your sides and you set your teeth and you tell Dabi that if he’s going to kill your husband, he may as well set himself on fire too, because it’s his fault in the first place. And he’s done a lot worse to you than one slap.

Dabi waits a moment, searching your alarmed expression for something, but whatever he’s hoping for you don’t give him and the flames go out. The air smells like smoke and his hands are hot—not burning, but uncomfortably hot—when he kneels in front of you and rubs a thumb over your bruised cheek.

“(Y/N)—” Dabi starts, and then he can’t find a way to finish. So he just gathers you up in his arms and carries you bridal-style down into the lawn and to the driveway, where he’s got a car waiting to take you guys back to his place. You don’t resist, which surprises him again. He thought you’d push away at him, scream, get angry—he thought he’d have to convince you. Or force you, like he usually does. But you just let him deposit you in the seat next to the driver’s.

Before he gets in, he asks you if you need anything from your house. He can go get it for you. See if any balding motherfucker in his forties can stop him. But you just shake your head.

“There’s nothing,” you say blankly. “I have nothing. I…have nothing.”

Just like back then.

“Not nothing,” Dabi tells you, turning forward to the road so you can’t see the look on his face. “You have me.”

///

In the end, he does understand. He understood it the second he held that goodbye note in his hands and knew you were lost to him.

You were 17 when you met him and 19 when you left—hardly older than a child yourself. You barely had enough to provide for your own needs, much less a teenage boy’s. By the time you left, Dabi was more than capable of surviving on his own and already falling into ugly crowds, gangs and syndicates who saw money in his quirk, people you’d sacrificed a lot to keep him away from. He no longer needed you, and it was time for you two to go your separate ways. Dabi understands that.

But now you need him. Just like you needed him when you were fucking strangers for food money; like you needed him when you ran away; like you needed him when you got trapped in this mundane, sparkling-clean life, a life that was never going to fit you. Only this time—this time, Dabi’s old enough for you. He’s not a kid anymore, he’s a man. He’s got an apartment and a good job (well, kind of) and he’s got money. He can provide for you the way you’ve always needed him to.

Dabi’s going to take care of you, and you’re never, ever going to leave.

6K notes · View notes

aspiring-bl-writer · 2 years

Text

Rage

Notice me.

I stride ankle-deep over mounds of corpses, heaps of offal trailing in my wake. My dual chainaxes sing discordant music as their teeth rend armour like flesh. My charred crimson plate is the same shade as the mists of blood bursting from every hack, every chop. I no longer recall who the enemy is, save that they are fools still in thrall to the carcass sat upon the Golden Throne. Their colours, their heraldry are trivial details. All that matters is my Primarch’s favour.

Notice me.

The Red Angel walks amongst us. He is a prince of the Lord of Rage, a behemoth of barbed bronze. Yet despite his daemonic ascension, his horrible and grotesque form, he is still essentially the same: wild, vicious, constantly consumed by heedless fury. With one swing his massive blade slices into a squad of our foes, cleaving their bodies in twain. He howls a guttural, dreadful roar, the stuff of nightmares. This is his calling: to lose himself in the hot passion of slaughter.

So ardent is his appetite for destruction that to steal his attention, just for the briefest of moments, is a highly coveted prestige among his children. A nod of respect, a growl of recognition implies a commendation tantamount to a blessing from the Blood God. It is a prize I have chased for centuries.

Notice me!

I must further increase the pace of my murder. I shove one of my brothers aside as I seek out more victims. We of the Grim Dawn are all World Eaters, each purified by eons of war, savage, reckless, bloodthirsty, brutal. We kill side by side, but truly, there is no kinship between us. Our weapons fall together, but without thought, without care. Camaraderie was just another emotion expunged sting by sting by the butcher’s nails. Even now I feel them whirring in my head, increasing my aggression, adding more and more momentum to my frenzy.

I spy a massive war-machine ahead. Its pilot is a maimed Astartes, an ancestor revered by his Loyalist comrades. Its armour is scorched black by innumerable dents and blasts. It lumbers toward us, a walking tank. It would make a fine prize.

Servos whine as its articulated power fist reaches for my swinging axe. I let the Dreadnought catch it, crumpling the metal blade in its grasp, while charging with my remaining axe raised. I aim for the nest of cables exposed underneath its elephantine metal chest suspended above a narrow waist and trunk-like legs. With revving ferocity, the teeth chew deep.

Notice me!

I duel the entombed warrior for… Hours? Minutes? Time is so subjective in the Warp. His strikes fly in sweeping arcs, chasing a death blow. He is plodding, precise. Meanwhile I am surrendering consciousness to the mechanical tendrils vibrating inside my brain. As my enemy grows exasperated, frustrated, I grow calm with the oxygen and adrenaline pumping in my bloodstream. The butcher’s nails are no torture device. They sharpen the senses and dull pain. They give clarity.

That is why our dead hearts so revere the Primarch. Yes, he is a privileged son of Khorne, but he gifted us serenity when he ordered the nails installed in all our heads. We will never know peace; that word is anathema to us. But the mental state induced by the thumping needles creates an ecstasy only the enraged can understand. The intensity of our fury is so great it washes everything away, lowers the volume, removes all distractions. I meander in a rose-tinted trance, a lullaby sung by the nails, the Taker of Skulls their conductor.

NOTICE ME!

At last, I have the upper hand. The goliath stumbles as it turns. I leap, axe lowered, and slam into the Dreadnought’s torso. My axe sinks far but not enough. As I hug the chassis I hack over and over, eliciting sparks and split wires until, finally, I find the Astartes revenant inside. I give him his overdue death, the mercy killing he was owed ages past.

I look up. The Red Angel has his back to me. His enormous bat-like wings lift his impossible bulk to convey him to some other corner of the battlefield. I watch in silence. All is now quiet. There are no more enemies here to slay. They all lay dead around me. It is only now that I survey them closer.

Their armour is covered in blood, or so it seems. I soon realize the armour is indeed painted the colour of blood, with subtle scorched trimmings of brass. Some of them wear Imperial insignia, but scratched, ruined, and not in battle. A good few wear the inimitable mark of Khorne. The Dreadnought is no different. It occurs to me these are fellow World Eaters. More than that, they are—were—my fellow members of the Grim Dawn.

In my mania I have killed my warband. There is no trace of Loyalist Astartes, living or dead. Had Angron presided over the massacre of his own children? Did he even still consider himself a father to us, or only Khorne’s chosen son? Had he been a product of my delirium, my ambition for his praise willing him into existence? These questions bring only pain.

I feel no remorse. I have felt very little for a long, long time, save for the perpetual hum of anger. All else is cauterized away, thanks to the nails. They permit me to feel the extremes of my default state. Rage is my religion, the calm at the centre of the storm, my paradise. I will never stop chasing it. Just as I will never stop chasing the blessing of the Red Angel who liberated me and my kindred.

I walk on. There are other battles. Of that, I am sure. Where blood flows, the Blood God looks, and where the blood flows deepest, the Red Angel appears. I will be there too.

You will notice me.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #40k #40k fanfic #40k fiction #wh 40k #khorne #chaos #world eaters #angron #red angel #primarch #butcher's nails #warhammer 40000 #space marines #chaos space marines

64 notes · View notes

isthisthingeven0n · 4 years

Text

number eleven : s.r

a serial killer is at large in atlana, carving numbers into his victims and throwing their bodies from rooftops. yet, things seem to hit a little too close to home for your liking, and sadly you get caught up in it all (4.2k)

( this is an original idea of mine, I’ve gone based off what I know in the show but the killer is made up! pls do not steal my concept without at least asking, and i hope you enjoy :) )

“It’ll be okay, Spence,” You fight against the unsubs hold as his arm remains pressed against your neck. “just, don’t give up.”

“Please, let her go!” You can hear the crack in his voice as his gun shakes in his grip, his eyes not leaving yours as tears pool. “You don’t have to do this, there’s another choice for you.”

The unsub scoffs as you wince at he breathes into your ear. “This ends with you.”

Two Days Earlier

“Hey, Spencer,” You smile as you walk through the doors to the bullpen, two cups of coffee in hand as you place onto his desk. “how was the Doctor Who convention?”

Out of everyone in the team, you were the only one to pay attention to the small details Spencer shares. You always have done, ever since you first joined the BAU, you noticed the subtle eye rolls as he rambled on with facts and statistics so you made sure to always pay attention.

Lifting his head up, Spencer can feel a smile tugging his lips as you take a seat at your desk adjacent to his. “You would’ve loved it. They had the original designs from the Cybermen’s first appearance in 1966, ‘The Tenth Planet’ and for the time, it was high tech stuff.” He explains whilst you listen contently, oblivious to the others watching you both.

“God, they’re so into each other it hurts.” Emily sighs as Penelope nods along.

JJ walks over to the girls, catching sight of what they’re fixated on. “Why can’t they just say something? I mean, it’s been three years.” Penelope questions, but JJ simply chuckles.

“This is Spencer and Y/n we’re talking about.” JJ comments. “For one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, Spencer can be stupid sometimes.” She states, returning her focus to how you look at Spencer as he talks, but also how willing Spencer is to be close to you and laughs at your input in between his rambles.

“I bet twenty dollars he’ll say something by the end of the year.” Rossi chimes in, but Emily scoffs.

“Dream on, Rossi.” She comments, but Rossi shrugs his shoulders.

Hotch exits his office, catching a glance from the girls who quickly stand up straight. “We’ve got a new case,” He announces, passing between you and Spencer on the way.

As you all enter the board room, you sit beside Spencer as you look at the tablet in front of you whilst he sticks to the original file.

“Within the past few months in Atlanta, Georgia, at least nine women have been found dead having fallen from rooftops, all in their twenties, latest victim was Caroline Kutes, twenty-three. Last seen having gone for a run after her shift at a local diner.” Penelope explains as you scroll through the images, seeing what was left of them from the crime scene.

“It’s not some suicide pack, is it?” Morgan speaks up, but Penelope shakes her head.

“I’m glad you asked, sugar.” She turns her back as she pulls up more images, displaying the victims left forearms.

“Numbers?” You question, zooming in onto the number three having been carved into the victim's flesh. “Someone’s keeping track.”

“So we know there are nine confirmed victims of this unsub then, it’s not a suicide pack.” Hotch states. “The police have requested our insight on the case, wheels up in thirty.”

Closing the tablet you push your chair back. “You alright?” Spencer asks you as everyone begins to file out.

You force a small smile, nodding. “Yeah, just some cases are never easy.” You mutter before heading out and grabbing your things.

Arriving straight to the latest crime scene, Hotch splits the team up. “Prentiss, I want you and Morgan to go to the rooftop, see if there’s anything left by the unsub or Caroline Kutes. Reid, Y/L/N, go to the morgue to take a look at the carvings and if there’s any other sign of torture.”

With that, you climb into a car with Spencer, looking at the drop from the building to where Hotch stands. “One hell of a fall.” You whistle as the driver pulls away, Spencer not missing your comment or how you’ve been wiping your hands over your pants since you arrived.

Standing in the morgue, Spencer took the lead as you stood back whilst bodies were examined. “There isn’t any sign of sexual assault on any of the women, but there are bruises across the neck and the carvings on the arm.” The diener explains. “From the fall she suffered several broken bones, a collapsed lung and a crack to her skull along with internal bleeding.”

“Are you saying she was alive when she hit the ground?” You speak up, stepping closer to see how they’ve managed to clean up the victims face, what remains from the large gash in her head.

“Yes, but only for a minute. She chocked to death on her own blood.” The diener states and you can’t help but feel a shiver through your spine.

“It’s most likely the unsub approached these women, if Caroline was out for a run, he might’ve asked her for directions or grabbed her. If she was grabbed, it would explain the bruising on the neck in an attempt to cut the circulation off to the brain, rendering her unconscious.” Spencer suggests, looking over to you as you remain too quiet for his liking. “You in there?”

Snapping out from your thoughts, you nod. “So the unsub approaches these women, tries to strangle them and then takes them to a rooftop. He isn’t sexually assaulting these women, but why throw them off a roof?”

“If he’s trying to pose it as suicide, it’s unusual for women to throw herself off a roof, it’s too dramatic. If a woman were to commit suicide, she’d overdose or drown herself. A subtle way to go.” Spencer explains as you nod along. “It’s almost as if he’s apologetic. He wants them to suffer, but can’t inflict the pain besides carving a number into their forearm.” Spencer looks over the number on Caroline’s arm. “You can see in some area’s he didn’t go deep enough with the knife, he’s dug in multiple times to carve out enough skin to make it bleed.”

“Maybe he’s a narcissist? Keeping track of his victims, making sure no one else can take the limelight for these girls.” You state. “I mean, he knows he isn’t going to get caught by the girls. Based on Caroline, she could barely move let alone tell anyone who did this.”

“I’ve seen countless bodies from suicide by jumping from buildings. It’s a rarity if you survived such a fall like this.” The diener tells you. “Clearly they knew what they were doing.”

“Contrary to popular belief, when the body falls from a height their head does not splatter onto the ground. Their bones will break and splay out, but if you were to fall from say a 48 feet building you’re most likely to live with a 50% chance of surviving.” Spencer explains, and you nod along.

“But our unsub picks tall buildings. Office blocks, malls, parking lots.” You tell Spencer who hums. “He knows they’re not going to survive the fall.”

“Yes, but statistically,” Spencer begins, but your phone begins to ring cutting him off.

“Sorry, Spence.” You tell him with an apologetic smile before moving out from the morgue, taking the phone call. “Yeah?”

“Ah, my sweet angel. Have you found Cupid’s arrow yet?” Penelope chuckles, causing you to roll your eyes. “How’s the case going? No one’s called to update me on the gruesome details.”

You sigh quietly. “Honestly, Pen, you’re lucky.” You tell her. “And what’d you mean by Cupid’s arrow?”

Penelope groans loudly through the phone, and you can hear her head hitting the keyboard before she apologises to it. “Y/n, how are you so pretty yet oblivious to the attraction of one Spencer Reid?”

“I, what?” You stumble over your words as you look over your shoulder to see Spencer staring back at you with a small smile on his lips as he waves to you. “I, he, Spencer? No,” You scoff, trying to think about anything else to reduce the spike in your heart rate.

“I’m no profiler, but I know things,” Penelope states.

“You’ve got it all wrong, Pen. Sorry to disappoint you, but there is no way he could ever like-”

“Y/n?” Spencer calls out, now standing in the doorway in front of you. “Hotch wants us to meet him, has a potential lead.”

“Sorry P, I gotta go.” You tell Penelope before she has the chance to say anything else and hang up the phone.

Walking alongside Spencer, you can’t help but notice how close he is to you. For someone who is a bit of a germaphobe, he’ll always sit with you before anyone else. During a flight last month with bad turbulence, he held your hand in his as you began to fall asleep, resting your head on his shoulder. You woke up concerned he’d mind, but Spencer just smiled and offered his shoulder any time.

“So, what’s the lead?” You ask as you walk into the police precinct, finding the rest of your team in a small room as boards with pictures have already been set up.

“I’ve checked with Garcia about the possibility that whoever is doing this must have some form of access to each of these buildings. There has to be something tying them together,” Prentiss begins.

“Like a cleaning company, or security?” JJ suggests.

Emily nods before grabbing a file and reading directly from it. “SecureO is a security company based all over Atlanta. They have hundreds of security guards working at various office blocks, department stores, parking lots. You name it, they’ve got people there.”

“And our unsub works for them?” You question, looking at the file to see the hundreds of names. “How are we supposed to find him?”

Hotch reaches out to call Garcia. “And here I thought you forgot about me.” Penelope states through the line, and Morgan smiles to himself.

“Garcia, can you take a look at the employee records for SecureO and crosscheck to see if any of them have criminal records.” Hotch asks as you listen intently to Penelope typing away.

“Okay, fifty-seven members of staff have criminal records.” Penelope states.

“How about any with troubled pasts? Maybe this guy is using these women as a form of release. He’s not sexually assaulting them, so it’s less likely to be about an ex, maybe it’s more personal.” You suggest, and Spencer scans through the file once again before looking back at the victims on the board.

“You, my pretty might be onto something,” Garcia chirps. “right, there are twelve members of staff who grew up in the foster system. I’m sending their details over to you right as we speak.”

“Wait, Penelope,” Spencer calls out and Hotch raises his head. “how many of those twelve lost family? Basing on their age and strength, he must be at least in his late twenties or early thirties. Try looking up any accidents in the state in the late eighties to early nineties.”

“Thinking he might have never left the state?” Morgan questions, his arms crossed over his chest.

Clearing his throat, Spencer stands taller beside you as you glance up at him with a reassuring smile. “Looking at all these women, they’re all young and pretty. Anyone who grew up in the system is less likely to leave the place they’re comfortable in. If our unsub grew up in Georgia, he would’ve stayed here and have gotten a job at eighteen. SecureO has been around for twelve years, and five of these employees have been around since it began.”

“Okay, I’ll send across anything once I’ve found it.” Penelope speaks up and hangs up the phone.

“Good work, Reid. Let’s go deliver the profile.” Hotch nods as he leads the way out of the room, Rossi patting Spencer’s shoulder as he departs.

“Not too shabby, Doctor.” You nudge Spencer playfully and he softly chuckles as you walk out.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Y/n.” He mutters under his breath as you walk out of earshot.

Entering the station the next morning, you looked around as solemn expressions greeted you.

“What’s happened?” You ask, taking a seat beside Spencer who notions to JJ.

“Another victim was found in the early hours of this morning. Amelie Hartnell, twenty, was discovered on top of a dumpster in a back alley below a seven-story abandoned office building.” JJ passes over the file to you as you flick through the images whilst you hold your breath.

“She was only twenty,” You mutter to yourself, unaware of Spencer eyeing you carefully. “there’s something about the carving on her, it isn’t as deep. You can see it’s a lot shallower than the others.” You explain.

“He was in a rush this time.” Morgan states. “But if it was an abandoned building, who was going to see him?”

“I’m not sure,” Hotch mutters. “call Garcia, see if she’s found anything yet about those five employees.”

“On it. Baby girl,” Morgan comments before exiting the room.

“You seem tired, Y/n.” Rossi speaks up, and you lift your head up to see the concern in his eyes. “Is something bothering you?”

Shaking your head, you dismiss the matter as the team look over at you. “I’m fine, just thinking about a few things. Didn’t get much sleep last night.” You tell him, but Spencer can tell there’s something else underlying you’re not saying. “Excuse me, I just need some air.” You mutter before exiting the precinct.

Watching you walk away, Spencer sighs. “Well, go follow her,” Rossi motions to Spencer who quickly gets up and exits the room. “these kids, I swear.” He mutters to himself once Spencer is out of sight.

As you walk out, you take a deep breath, clearing your thoughts. “Y/n,” Spencer calls out and you turn around, forcing a smile. “something’s clearly bothering you.” He states as you move away to sit on a bench whilst Spencer hovers beside you.

“When I was growing up, I had a friend, Sylvia,” You start, and Spencer watches as you brush your hands over your pants once more. “she moved to Savannah and we just grew apart, but I’ll never forget her brother, Killian.”

Spencer sits down beside you, your leg touching his as he reaches out and takes your hand. “Y/n, what was it about Killian?” He questions quietly.

“He was always there, just watching us.” You mumble, remembering those bright blue eyes always in the background, never leaving you or Sylvia. “But, their parents, they died in a car crash when Sylvia was thirteen, Killian was fourteen.” You begin to explain as you exhale a shaky breath.

Squeezing Spencer’s hand, he shushes you. “It’s okay, just, take it one memory at a time.” He reassures you as your eyes remain tightly shut.

“From what I know, Sylvia couldn’t take it, losing her parents,” You swallow the lump in your throat as you open your eyes, focusing on Spencer’s. “she killed herself, by jumping off of the roof of a mall.”

“Just like the first victim.” Spencer mutters as he quickly stands up. “We gotta tell Hotch.”

“Why didn’t you mention this sooner, Y/n?” Hotch stressed as he frowns at you, but Spencer remains by your side as you keep your focus on the team, eyeing the photos behind Emily.

“I suppressed a lot of memories from when I was growing up, I forgot all about Killian and Sylvia, but seeing these photos it just made me think back to it all.” You explain, looking around at all of your team. “I’m sorry for holding back.” You apologise, and JJ smiles as she walks over, hugging you lightly.

“Garcia, can you look up Killian and Sylvia Atwork?” You speak up into the phone and Penelope begins to type rapidly before pausing.

“Oh my god,” She mutters. “Killian has been working at SecureO for ten years. He was employed when he turned eighteen and is in charge of the security footage for various locations.”

Hotch rises to his feet. “We have to inform the police department and the news outlets, JJ, can you sort a press conference?”

“I’m on it.” JJ states as she begins to call her contacts, taking the call in another room.

“Y/n, we might’ve just had a break in the case because of you, thank you.” Hotch comments and Rossi gives you a subtle thumbs up. “Garcia, I need you to look at any other buildings that SecureO are in charge of the security systems, see if our unsub is heading to any of these next. If we’re lucky, we’ve got enough time to stop him killing again.”

“Will do, Sir.” Penelope calls out from the phone.

“You think we’ll get him in time?” You speak up, fiddling with the hem of your cardigan.

“Hopefully.” Hotch sighs and JJ walks back in.

“Ready when you are, Hotch.”

* The plan was simple, and it should’ve been effective. All of you were teamed off into pairs. Prentiss and Morgan, JJ and Rossi, Hotch and the chief of police whilst you went with Reid.

“I’m proud of you, Y/n.” Spencer mutters as you sit beside him in the car on route to the office block about ten minutes west of the station. “Without you, we might not have gotten to this point.”

Spencer can’t help but feel warm inside as you smile up at him. “You think so?”

“I know for a fact.” He states as his hand reaches out to yours as he pulls up to the building. “Just keep an eye out, and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Again.” You add as you close the car door, securing your vest on as the pair of you begin to head up to the roof of the building, you leading the way.

“Any sign, Y//L/N?” Hotch asks through your earpiece.

Looking around, you keep your gun extended in front of you as you quietly open the door to the roof. “Negative.” You state, turning the corner as you continue to search the place whilst Spencer is still coming up the stairs.

“Reid, my dead grandmother could’ve gotten up those stairs faster than you.” You joke playfully as he comes into sight, the sun beginning to set behind you illuminating his hazel eyes as they widen.

“Y/n!” Spencer yells, but you’re too slow to react as an arm is tightly holding your neck whilst a knife is being pressed against your back beneath the vest.

“Long time no see, huh, Y/n?” Killian mutters into your ear as he begins to drag you back as you sight against him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, this can end one of two ways, I prefer to keep this clean.”

“We need back up and medics at 1238 Meadow Lane, I repeat, we need backup. Killian is here, he, he has Y/n.” Saying that through the comms immediately causes his heart to sink as tears fill your eyes.

“We’re coming now,” Hotch announces, and you can hear the sound of sirens across the city as Killian drags you toward the edge of the roof with you in front of him.

“Spence,” You focus on Spencer’s face as his gun remains out, directed at Killian’s head. “what are the statistics of surviving this?” You ask him as a tear falls down your cheek.

“Y/n,” Spencer starts, but you shake your head as you fight against Killian, taking shallow breaths as he continues to apply pressure to your windpipe.

“Please,” You breathe out as Killian chuckles against you. “I need to know.”

The truth of the matter is you know your odds of making it out alive are slim to none, but you wanted to hear Spencer ramble one last time.

“From a building like this, a ten-story drop your odds aren’t great, in fact, falls from ten-story buildings have a 90% chance of death.” He explains, his gun now shaking in his hand as he pictures you on the ground below, bleeding out. “Those, those who survive can be paralysed if they land on their backs, permanent brain damage from skull fractures or,” Spencer stops himself as Killian focuses on him.

“Do finish Doctor Reid, I’m enjoying this.” Killian states, and you shudder at the fact he’s finding this entertaining.

“In cases like Sylvia, she survived but was left to bleed out.” Spencer finishes, and your eyes widen. “You see, Sylvia wasn’t suicidal like we thought. She was just in the wrong place, wasn’t she, Killian?” Spencer steps closer, but you wince as you can feel the knife starting to pierce your skin.

“No, Sylvia killed herself. I, I saw it.” Killian yells, tightening his grip around your neck as your hands lie limply by your sides. “I would never hurt her.”

“Not intentionally,” Spencer comments. “you were playing, and you knocked her, didn’t you?”

Killian shakes his head. “No! She jumped!” You can feel his heart beating against you. “She jumped and never said goodbye, she left me all alone.” He cries out.

“Killian, I’m sorry.” You manage to say. “It wasn’t your, your fault.”

“She left me here.” He spits at you. “Everyone else moved on, but I was left with the guilt.”

“There’s always another way, Killian.” You speak softly, focusing on Spencer. “But if this is it,” You start, but Spencer shakes his head. “Spencer, I’m so sorry.” You let your tears fall freely down your cheeks as Spencer steps closer.

“Y/n, don’t do this.” Spencer tells you.

“I love you Spence, but please, please be strong for me.” You can feel yourself beginning to slip out of consciousness as Killian continues to apply more pressure around your neck.

“There’s another way out, Killian. I promise you, just let Y/n go.” Spencer is yelling at the top of his lungs as Killian simply laughs.

“You think there’s another option? You sure you’re a Doctor, kid?” Killian scoffs.

“It’ll be okay, Spence,” You fight against the unsubs hold as his arm remains pressed against your neck. “just, don’t give up.”

The unsub scoffs as you wince at he breathes into your ear. “This ends with you.”

Closing your eyes, you embrace the feeling as Killian falls backwards, taking you with him.

“NO!” Spencer screams, running over as Killian lets go of you at the last second.

Spencer grabs a hold of your hand, but within a split second, it slips. “Spence,” You cry out as you hang on to the ledge of the building with all your might.

The sound of Killian hitting the floor only worsens your fear as Spencer begins to pull you up. All you can hear is the sound of your heart in your ears as the sirens dull behind you whilst Spencer is yelling in front of you, yet you can’t hear any of it.

“Come on, Y/n, stay with me!” Spencer screams as another pair of hands appear by his side.

“Come on, we’ve got you.” Hotch states, pulling you up with Spencer and away from the ledge.

Immediately you fall into Spencer’s arms, your hands gripping his arms as you sob into his chest. “It’s okay, I’m not letting go.” Spencer holds you tightly as he looks up at Hotch, his expression saying more than words can.

“We need a medic!” Hotch yells as three men appear, checking over you as you remain sat with Spencer on the roof, far away from the ledge.

“You’re okay,” Spencer tells you as you go quiet, going into shock as the medics help you out from the building and into the ambulance as your team stands by.

“Oh thank god.” JJ blurts out as Spencer exits the building, enveloping him into a tight hug. “Are you alright?” She checks as she pulls away, but Spencer can’t help himself as he focuses on you in the back of the ambulance, wrapped in foil as the medics check you over.

JJ follows Spencer’s gaze and can’t help but force back her smile.

“Go on, you should be with her.” She assures him, but Spencer pauses.

“Y/n told me she loves me.” Spencer quietly tells JJ who quirks an eyebrow. “You, you knew didn’t you?”

JJ chuckles under her breath. “Spence, we all knew. But she doesn’t know you love her too, does she?”

Spencer shakes his head as he glances back over to you, seeing you being given the all-clear as you begin to rise to your feet.

Immediately, Spencer darts over to help you, his hand resting on your waist as you look up at him. “Spence, I,” You stumble over your words, watching as Killian’s body is being transported away in the body bag.

“Hey, don’t focus on that,” Spencer rests his hand on your cheek. “you’re alive, and I guess you beat the statistic.” He states, listening as you laugh lightly.

“Probably because I didn’t fall.” You add.

“But you almost did, and, and I would never have had the chance to tell you this,” Spencer tells you.

“Tell me what?” You ask, looking up at him with hesitation.

Spencer opens his mouth and after exactly three years, two months and nine days of knowing you and falling in love with you, he cannot find the right words to string together. “In the English language. there are 171,476 words. I’ve only ever needed three of them to tell you how I feel, but I can’t even do that properly.” He laughs uneasily as he focuses on you.

Lifting your hand up, you rest it on the back of his neck as you rise to your tiptoes. “Is this okay?” You whisper.

“More than okay,” Spencer responds before his lips are on yours.

You can hear Rossi cheering in the background as Hotch tries to shush them all but secretly is proud of you both. Having seen the way you gripped Spencer’s shirt when he saved you on that roof, he knew it was about time something would finally happen.

Pulling away from the kiss, you laugh lightly. “I take it the feeling is reciprocated then?” You question, and Spencer smiles.

“I’m never letting you go again.” He mumbles into you as you rest your head against his chest, hoping that promise will remain intact.

#okay so it was v long #but i really hope you enjoyed it!#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid au #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler imagine

3K notes · View notes