#Wild to think I drew both of those lol

[powerfultenderness]

Death's Angel

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

Rated: Explicit. 18+

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

Word Count: 22,480

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

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

[Multi-fandom Masterlist]

[Death’s Kiss]

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

Red had always been his favorite color. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Nothing?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hoped you lived. 

[Death’s Touch] 

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

But the police never showed up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He could leave. He could forget about you now. 

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You belong to me now, Engel.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Where are you taking me?” 

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your name?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. “Everything.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who needs matching tattoos when you have matching scars?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready for more, Engel?” 

You blink at him. “More?”

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

Oh!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, “please, König!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now, can you let go of me?” 

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“König?” 

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

“...I never told you my name.” 

[Death’s Promise]

“...I never told you my name.” 

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

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

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

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

“How long have you been following me?” 

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

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

“Go to sleep, Engel.” 

“At least tell me why.” 

“To make sure no one else touches you.” 

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

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

And yet, “...No one?” “No one.” 

That actually sounded kind of nice…

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about work?” 

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

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

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

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

“Yes!” You giggle at the joke.

“Ok.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Because he works with me!”

“Not for long.” 

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

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

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

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

“And he still works there?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This man has touched you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d start with his hands.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Someone’s a pretty little liar.” 

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

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

Deb, the office gossip. 

“She doesn’t know everything about me.” 

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

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

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

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

“Well, where is he?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get in the truck. And don’t look.” 

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

“I know.” 

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

“Not so fast, hm?”

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

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

“You touched her-”

“N-no! I didn’t! She lied!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“W-what!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing, Engel.” 

“Then why are you so quiet?”

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

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

König’s head snaps up. “What! No!”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yea.” 

“What about it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need you to know that, Engel.” 

You nod, “ok. Got it.” 

“But I would never hurt you.”

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

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

You frowned, “what’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

“You are perfect. Marry me.” 

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

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

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

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

[Death’s Haven]

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

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

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

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

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

"What time is it?"

"Three."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There was a witness.”

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

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

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

“I killed him too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Are you proud of me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And ruin the surprise?” 

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

“Just open it real quick.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have the sweetest blood, my angel.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you walk?” 

Actually, probably not. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#König x reader #könig x fem reader #serial killer au #stalker au #this is about serial killer könig. NOT könig being a serial killer #dangerous serial killer is soft only for you

[mixelation]

give me a fandom and i'll make an OC

IDK what i expected to happen LOL. okay here's two OC concepts I've thought about for YGO

the first concept was the product of a conversation between me and a friend a looooong time ago. our concept was this: yugi's dad's company sent him abroad for work several times, and he had an affair with someone in the US that ended up with Yugi having a half sister. this is also why we never hear from yugi's dad-- his mom divorced him and then did her best to never interact with him again lol. so yugi is aware he has a half-sister in the US but he's never, like, talked to her.

this OC wasn't into duel monsters, but we wanted her to be into SOME sort of gaming and I think we picked puzzle games? but if i were to tweak her design i think i'd make her a twitch streamer who does a lot of weird challenges on popular games. i don't think we named her, but she's a lazy person who only wants to work enough to support her hobbies. oh also my friend and i got into an argument over what Yugi's hair would look like grown out and i drew this with my track pad:

if we had a plot in mind i don't remember what it was. if i made up one now: at some point yugi becomes famous and suddenly OC keeps getting asked questions about if she knows about this king of games guy because they have the same hair. isn't that funny?? and OC sees him on TV and is like: oh god i think that's my brother. she doesn't reach out because her mom is like "LOL they hate us" and also her japanese is awful. but meanwhile, yuugi keeps getting @ed on social media that there's a mildly popular twitch streamer with his hair. isn't that funny?? so eventually yugi reaches out and then... idk. stupid semi-magical shenanigans.

second concept: ryou has an online friend.

i think i've pitched ryou having an online presence before. i think this makes sense for him: every fiend he has gets their soul stolen by the evil ghost haunting him, but what can bakura do to online friends? be rude to them? so ryou posts a lot on online monster world forums and maybe plays some games via an online platform. i think bakura IS rude to people sometimes but ryou is like "sorry that was my evil alter ego :(" and in early 2000s online culture that's just a normal thing for a teenager to do/say.

OC is therefore someone he's know even longer than Yugi, just via various online platforms. She's talked to Bakura and been confused. She's "there, there"-ed Ryou between extremely bizarre sounding incidents and hospital stays. Post-canon, after they both graduate high school, the two of them make Big Plans to meet in person. OC wants to write her own TTPGs, so Ryou invites her to stay with him in Domino for a few weeks because it is THEE gaming capital. Also it would be fun to try and make some models for her ideas!! Maybe they can even playtest some!!

OBVIOUSLY something has to go wrong, and that is my favroite YGO trope: the day OC is supposed to turn up, Malik shows up on Ryou's doorstep and is like GUESS WHO MYSTERIOUSLY JUST HAS HIS OWN BODY NOW. it's bakura!!!

(OC, meeting him: you're real?)

the Shenanigans that follow would be one part having to figure out what to do with an evil ghost made real, one part trying to enjoy your last summer before university, and then one part OC insisting on meeting shady people from the internet who turn out to be hardened criminals about 95% of the time.

my concept for OC's personality is that she's very creative and emotionally supportive of her friends, but she's also one of those people who's very into how From The City she is and sometimes that causes her to make wild decisions. in my original concept, i wanted her to be the most stereotypical new yorker, but she could be from any major city

Malik, seeing the address of where she's meeting Some Guy to buy a limited edition Monster World player's manual: girl you are going to get mugged

OC: I CAN TAKE OF MYSELF. STREET SMARTS--!!

(obviously she goes, and ryou makes bakura and malik go with them because YOU JUST SAID SHE WAS GOING TO GET MUGGED, but also OC is very confident because she got pepper spray through TSA. nothing can go wrong.)

the plot would be typical yugioh game-based shenanigans but everyone is like 80% more likely to throw hands.

#ask meme answer

[chaoticsorceress]

I feel like you can factor DnD experience into it too. Sorcerers and wizards are both powerful in their own right and it also depends on domain and all of those other factors, but generally speaking wizards tend to be stronger than sorcerers. And there's also the whole thing about how wizards are scholars of magic whereas sorcerers aren't. So people take Gale saying exactly that as a diss when it's just the way those classes work.

I never had any prior DnD experience before playing bg3. I knew very little lore but nothing about the classes and how they can interact with each other. But I can see many people having no experience and taking what Gale says as a diss. The way he says it can sound off-putting as well. BUT the more time you spend with him it becomes obvious that Gale is seriously studied in magic and he has loads of knowledge. He's confident in his abilities and should be.

He really is a true scholar of magic and honestly that impressed me lol. The more I spent time with him the more I saw Gale as someone that could still teach my sorcerer more about magic. He's so happy to just share his knowledge but to some people it comes off as condescending and it's really sad. I can only hope as they play the game more they will change their minds but there are people who just leave him in camp after that and view him as annoying because he asks for artifacts in act 1.

Then there's also this that you said "And there's also the whole thing about how wizards are scholars of magic whereas sorcerers aren't." and it reminds me of the dialogue in act 1 where you can tell him that a magical education is bizarre to you because as a sorcerer you had to either learn or die. That's a huge thing that differentiates sorcerers from wizards. Wizards seem to learn magic because it interests them and because they may have the privilege of perusing a magical education. Sorcerers MUST learn how to use and control their magic. It doesn't matter if they like magic or not they have to.

Wizards are generally stronger in a lot of ways than sorcerers but what drew me to sorcerers was the roleplay aspect and also the wild magic class. Metamagic however is what keeps drawing me back to playing a sorcerer over a wizard.

ANYWAYS I kind of went off topic a bit but what you said made me think a lot lol

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #sorry if this didnt really add to the convo I kind of just rambled more on random stuff lol #you can correct me if im wrong on any of the sorcerer stuff btw #sorcerer!tav

[monsterbananatv]

Hi

Happy lockwood and co 1 year anniversary!

I’m about to get very sappy cause in such a short time Lockwood and co changed my life and the fact that it’s been a year of the show is wild to me.

So let’s go back to the first time I ever saw Lockwood and co. It was before the show came out and I was looking though the up and coming shows on Netflix and I stumbled across this show called Lockwood and co. Now I can’t tell you what drew me to the show, I only watched like 5 seconds of the trailer, but something about those five seconds made me think that yes, this is the show for me. So I took a picture of my tv and was excited for it to be released.

A few weeks after the release I watched it for the first time. When I tell you I loved it, I mean I loved it. I combined some of my favourite things: ghosts, found family, a cute romance, mysterys of sorts and more.

I was only able to watch the show three times all the way through before the person whose Netflix I was using canceled their Netflix plan. When I say I watched it three times I mean I watched it three times in the span of like two weeks, with the third time being me going through and making notes of very thing I loved or found interesting. That was only the beginning for me.

I ordered the books immediately. It took me one week to finish them all, each book taking me about a day and a bit. I loved them every bit as much as I had loved the show. Lockwood and co became everything I talked about for months.

And then I did something I had never really done for any other thing I liked before. I started reading fanfiction. They were all so good and I just devoured them like I had everything else. Then I started writing my own. Which I’ve been a writer for forever but there was something about these characters that made me want to continue and expand on their stories, so that’s what I did.

In April I did something else I had never done before. I joined a discord server for Lockwood fanfic writers/readers. Best decision I’d ever made. I’ve met some of the best people because of it. People who love and support me and my writing and just me in general. It went from my first time having online friends to having an online family, and I love those guys to pieces. I don’t know what I’d do without them.

I think I’ve improved greatly with my writing and thank you to everyone who continues to read the things I write. There’s more to come from me, I promise.

I’m rereading the books and now that I have Netflix again (thanks to my bestie lol) I think a rewatch of the show is in order.

There’s just something about this series, both books and show, I swear. They mean the absolute world to me.

Lockwood and co is my home <3

#I’m so sappy jeez #I can not express my love enough tho #to stroud for creating this world #to Joe Cornish and CF for making the show #to Ruby Cam and Ali for bringing our characters to life #to locknation for being the kind supportive people that you are #and to all my friends #which if I haven’t mentioned enough #i love them to pieces #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #portland row is their home #and it’s our home too #I can’t wait to continue to walk into darkness with them by my side #<3 #I’m tearing up #I’ve only woken an hour ago and but it’s been such an emotional start #I meant to post this yesterday #but clearly I forgot #so just pretend it’s on time lol #but yeah I keep seeing photos and videos from the meetup yesterday #and man I miss them #it’s so nice to see cam #and ali #and both of them together #it’s just so 🥹 #anyways I’ll stop rambling now lol #I love you all very very much <3

[iznsfw]

I was honestly surprised that you are a big fan of Taeyeon and Irene. I think you've always been interested in them since they have been on your 'idols that you write' list for a long time. Though you never mentioned them on your blog until recently.

From my perspective, it's like seeing you flipping a switch. I saw your posts which made me realize, "Oh IZ is DOWN BAD for both of them".

When did you start following/stanning Taeyeon and Irene?

What was the breaking point that pushed you to write Taeyeon and subsequently Irene? (Photos, performances, songs, fancams, etc.)

Yes, I'm a super big fan of them, I'm a bigger fan of them than using "XD" (rooted from my cringe Facebook days back in 2011), which says a lot.

You're right about me being at least interested in them back them. They're both insanely pretty and so happen to be mommy bunny leaders, too, which is probably what drew me to them. And look at them being my top two and three now! (Gaeul, I'm sorry please dont be bad to me tonight)

Taeyeon

I heard her song "Fine" and adored how pretty her voice and face are. She's one of the best vocalists in the industry and no, i won't fight you about it we all know it's true

I watched a few of her videos and she's so blunt and straight to the point that it made me have fantasies of her being a dom.

(So basically my whole writer deal ahhaha)

She's a switch for sure but she's on the dommy side and could be a little harsh, which is why I wrote Feels Like Heaven, Feels Like Hell. It didn't get as many notes than I expected but I loved writing it, so it doesn't sting much.

As for her character in the Dulce Periculum universe, I wrote it after seeing her in *those* glasses and seeing a random video on my timeline of a compilation of Eunbi saying "mom" and her talking about being shy to talk to Taeyeon at the salon. My thoughts ran wild and there it is lol.

Irene

I found out about Irene after that iconic video of her having a sixth sense and saving a picture frame for dropping. I thought that was really cool.

I fell in love took a liking to Irene after watching this video:

https://youtu.be/vP2JRvncjfY

At one point she was the prettiest woman in the world to me. Still is. I love how she's quiet but really funny if she chooses to be, and has a caring soul.

Also, she doesn't take anybody's shit and I aspire to be like that.

I wrote her because mommy makes my brain go brr. That's it. I love Bae Joohyun, so that means everyone should love her, too.

#ask #friskyriskywhisky

[sixty-silver-wishes]

having a lot of international friends and looking through old discord dms with them is wild because it’s like

- “lol look at this meme”

- “haha it’s so funny how our first languages have similar quirks”

- “can I open up to you about this issue that’s been bothering me?”

- “let’s work out a time that works for both of us to chat since we live in different time zones”

- “HOW ARE YOU STILL AWAKE”

- “wow, talking about the weather is actually really cool when people live in different climates”

- “look at these cool pictures I took on vacation”

- “can you help me translate this?”

- “dang; that sucks. I wish I could fly over to comfort you in person right now”

- “lol I made cookies and wanted to ask if you wanted any, and then I remembered you live across an ocean from me”

- “isn’t it crazy how technology lets us communicate instantly from so far away, and we use it to send memes and stupid stuff”

- “we should meet up one day; I’ll show you around”

- “your connection is cutting out; lemme pause the movie”

- “wait isn’t it like 2 am where you live”

- “I can’t believe we have messages from like five years ago; wow”

- “I just read the news about what happened in your country; are you okay? I don’t completely understand the situation but I’m here if you need me; don’t feel pressured to respond but I just want to know that you’re safe”

- “hey; I know this meme is old and I sent it to you before, but it still makes me think of you”

- “I drew you a picture since I wanted to get you a gift, but I can’t mail anything to your country”

- “don’t worry about your grammar/pronunciation/accent; you speak my first language really well! but if you want, we can try to talk in your language too; I’ve been practicing”

- “what’s going on in your country? the news is saying lots of different things and I don’t know what to believe”

- “we’ll be okay. we’ll get through this”

- “omg look at this funny post”

- “thanks for being here. you’re a really good friend. I wish we could meet in person”

- “the weather where you live is WHAT”

- “you’re probably asleep right now, but I just read the news again, so when you see this, I just want to know if you’re doing all right”

- “omg your pets are so cute”

- “today is a holiday for you, right? how was it?”

- “wow; those pictures you sent are so pretty”

- “look at this stupid cat gif”

- “read the news again; are you doing okay?”

#rambles #international friends

[skylinx2o]

Bionicle dream

Some time ago I had a dream about Bionicle, and wanted to draw it. To be clear, it wasn't '’the’’ dream, I never had one of those. In this dream, I went into the world of Bionicle.

So have a drawing of me and Nokama just walking :)

In that dream, I woke up in some ruined building in I’m guessing Ga-Metru. I think there was a hole in the ceiling, so maybe I fell through there? I for some reason was wearing clothes similar to those I drew in the picture, and had a wooden mask that was painted to resemble Kanohi Pakari.

Anyway, as I was laying confused in the rubble, Nokama came in. She stopped in her tracks when she saw me. We stared at each other confused for a few seconds, and then she finally asked ‘’What are you doing here???’’ And I was like ‘’Girl, I have noooo idea :I’’ My mind kinda skipped a few scenes, but I assume she asked me a lot more questions, and questioned who or what I am... ANYWAY, she ended up taking me on a trip to see Ga-Metru :] And she held my hand the whole dream. I, an almost 20 years old person, was led around like a child on a school trip by matoran Nokama 😭 lol

So I’m listening to Nokama talking about the city, and we’re stopped by no other than Whenua! He explained that he heard about a new weird Rahi in Ga-Metru and came to check it out. Well, I was that weird Rahi turns out lol. Nokama argued with him for a while since I can speak, understand everything they say, and I’m friendly and stuff... In the end he agreed that I’m not a threat or anything BUT WOOPS, someone called vahki on me :] And since both Nokama and Whenua were seen with me, and don’t really want me to be locked up, we raaan awaaaay We ran all the way to Ta-Metru, and ended up bumping into Vakama. So I made three people from the metru team meet prematurely somehow. He, of course, showered us with types of questions like ‘‘what the hell is that thing’' and, ‘‘what are you doing here, and why are you being chased’'. So we roped him in into that mess against his will, and let me tell you he was not happy xD

At some point we got cornered and were hiding behind some building. The three argued how they are supposed to hide me, and what would they even do with me after, and i just kinda stood there and looked at them. But while they argued, I think the floor beneath me broke, and I fell down. They tried to catch me but were too late, and as they screamed after me, I woke up :I If you’re wondering how I remembered all of this, the second I woke up, I lunged for my phone and noted all of this down. No way in hell am I forgetting this >:0 But yeah, it was a wild ride :v I worked on the drawing for a few weeks (university is to blame, I have no time for anything), and I don’t know if it’s presentable or not, but I don’t really care, it’s good enough for me.

I based the height difference on what I found on the internet, and the chart below. The proportions may look a little wonky, because the matoran have funny proportions, and it kinda doesn’t mesh well with my artstyle.

But hopefully it’s not that bad from your perspective 💀

#bionicle dream #bionicle art #fanart #bionicle #bonkle #bonkles #lego #digital #art #matoran #nokama #metru nui #toa metru #whenua #vakama

[solradguy]

ik you said something about it before- but are you ever gonna draw any of the men w/ top surgery scars? (ofc you don't have 2) just think it'd be cool if maybe sometime you did a piece w/ some or maybe a bigger piece? w/ like some having them and some not? idk- I just love ur art lol <3 ~pumpkin anon (also sorry 2 hear ur foot brokey(? I think that's what it was) n u had to get an mri n all that before, glad it's healed tho!!)

Maybe not for Sol tbh... But if I ever draw transmasc Axl I will, and honestly if I ever draw Happy Chaos at all he'll definitely have them haha I really like how it looks when they're colored the same orange as his other markings, they compliment his design super well. Probably Venom too, if I drew him. So many people draw him with top surgery scars that sometimes I forget he doesn't actually have them LOLL

Recently I've been thinking about how Izuna would be really cool as a canon transmasc character too, what with his lore involving the data of a woman that got crushed by the Backyard mingling with Izuna's data while he was forming and all. It could be an interesting way to play with gender concepts in a uniquely Guilty Gear setting. Izuna's design would work really well with top surgery scars/markings too, since he already has some markings on his chest. Just shuffle them around a bit haha

Thanks!! It was my spine. I picked up a big plastic container full of heavy hardback books that I was helping my mom go donate but I lifted with my back instead of my knees and, well, there it went!!

Between each of your vertebrae are these squishy discs and I had two of those in my lower back squirt out of place. IIRC the one actually burst but the other one just bulged a little. My left foot was paralyzed and the rest of my left leg lost some feeling from the discs pushing against my sciatic nerve (the nerve that runs along the spine), and my doctor AND physical therapist both had very serious discussions with me about how it was Very Possible that I wouldn't ever be able to walk right again. Somehow or another I physical therapy flexed enough and have feeling/movement in my left foot again. It was wild!! They did shots directly into my spine. Would Not Recommend. For the love of every beautiful thing on this Earth please, please, pick up heavy boxes lifting with your legs and not with your back lol

There are still some days where it can be kinda ehhhhh but I do daily yoga and a shit ton of ab and back exercises to keep it in line. Literally in line. Strong back muscles keep it all together like a strong tortilla holding in burrito contents lmao

#asks #Trying to walk with a paralyzed foot's fuckin awful and anyone that deals with that daily is tough as nails. You have my sympathies #Imagine trying to walk on a foot/leg that's fallen entirely asleep but it's like that All The Time #It was weird when my sciatic nerve had healed enough that I was getting some feeling back in my foot because it was inconsistent lol #Like a wire with a faulty connection that only gave sporadic power at 60% at random intervals #REALLY grateful I didn't get the nerve tinglies like some people can apparently get. Like that TV static feeling? #It just went from no feeling to gradually having feeling again. Took over a year... Nerves heal slow

[chunky-ruckus]

I'm probably going to remove this chapter from Itty Bitty- it just doesn't fit- but I like it well enough to save. I'm keeping it here, on my OC blog, and I'm not sure if I should put it back on ao3 as something else? An outtake of some sort? Generally I hate getting rid of my writing / making it inacessable to others. Lmk I guess, it's just kinda.... Self indulgent bs anyway (not in a bad way) lol

___

Another morning.

More and more, you believe you were destined to die on Alt-

Aaah, wait a minute. Depression, you sly dog, you think. You almost had me using groundhog’s day as both a metaphor and a plot device. The bitch is good, but you got her number. And you refuse to booty call on this fine, foggy evening.

And it is fine and foggy. The espresso machine gives its awful death gurgle just like every morning, but you can’t see the lonely subgrubs beneath you, and so you get to skip making a new penguin analogy completely. You consider a silent hill analogy, bringing your hand to your chin in deep thought. It’s ten minutes wasted, and 15 hours 50 minutes to go before you can reasonably go to sleep again.

Haha. This sucks, man. 

You check your calendar, Maybe you have some more, secret events scheduled? But, save for the lonely event a week ago, there’s nothing. 

It occurs to you that you can schedule your own events. And why shouldn’t you? Why shouldn’t you put things in your calendar that you’ve already been doing? As a treat?

Fifteen minutes later. Stelsa would be so proud: your calendar app now has a streak of teal, those days where she’s got you on her calender. You suspect this is a secret plot device that will help you later.

Half an hour down since you woke up. You’re doing this. You’re making today happen.

...You’re staring blankly at your fridge. Which, to be fair, is adorned with pictures that Karako and Wanshi drew for you last time you visited the caverns. It’s so rare to see Karako at all, let alone with the jades.

The picture he drew of himself, protecting you with a psychic aura in pink and purple and your own body sprouting viscera like vines, is shockingly adorable. Wanshi’s companion piece, of her as a mother cat bringing you a piece of her hunt to share with kittycat!you (presumably not dead yet, which is quite a vote of confidence for your constitution) and kittycat!Karako (covered in blood and smiling one of those anime emoji smiles), is a bit more horrifying.

Ten more minutes down. 

You sigh. You know it’s up to you to get into some antics, some real shenanigans if you’re lucky, but your inspiration well is dry and frankly the Alternian dim season is fucking bleak. You’ve noticed more trolls lately are indulging in their violent tendencies. Everyone is moody and dark circles are more likely to be black eyes these days.

It’s going to be a long day.

It’s 1:30 when your pho- er, palmhusk starts buzzing.

You almost don’t recognize the sound over the humming of your fridge. How’s this for beating depression? You’re deep cleaning. Thinking about future meals. Considering a walk, even. Who’s doing it like you?

Shit. The palmhusk is still going hog fucking wild on your counter.

It occurs to you that you very rarely hear palmhusks buzz on this planet. In fact, you’ve set yours to do not disturb mode. You close the fridge- oops, you left the bottle of cleaning spray Marsti lent you- and check your phone.

Marvus is requesting to facetime. And here you were, thinking you’d have to come up with your own stupid bullshit for today. 

You slide the little button around on screen until you manage to answer.

“Ayooo,” he says, hair fanning around his shoulders- excluding his forelock, wrapped up in a little pink curler- as he reclines upside down on a bubblegum pink chaise. “Lunch time, baby, you ate yet?” He picks his teeth as if to sharpen them, readying himself for his own lunch. The muscles and tendons on his slender neck stand out like the waving arms of a crowd; it's mostly disconcerting, a little bit alluring.

“Already?” You knew it was after midnight, but connecting the dots of what time is it and when do you do the things that keep you alive is a bit beyond you right now. Your stomach rumbles. “I guess it is. No, I didn’t eat yet.”

“Real shit,” Marvus says. “Pick up whatever you want and bring it here.”

“I have,” you say, no shame left after the events of friendmageddon, “no money.”

“Yeah no shit,” Marvus twists his face at you, “but I got cash comin’ out both ends, babe. Catch me shitting singles.” Sounds like terrible news for the next stripper Marvus hires. “Catering place ain’t delivering today," they definitely are, "and my roadies are all setting up R N.” Oh, you hate that. He’s verbally conveying text talk? It would have been the same amount of syllables.

“You’re full of shit,” you say. “If you have so much money, buy some more guys to do your chores for you.” Your tone is only harsh in a playful sense, but you can’t help but laugh.

“Money can’t buy good company,” he says, winking. Leaning upside down has leant his face a boyish charm: all of what little fat he carries on his face has gravitated to his cheeks, and you can see a faint purple tint to his ears and hairline that shows he’s either blushing or about to faint from a head-rush. You can hear his heels thumping against the wall. A few trolls in the background are banging an accompanying beat onto what sounds like a table covered in plastic beads. Then Marvus’s face gets all mock-serious, too much squinting smile in his eyes to really scare you. “Man, hurry tha fuck UP if you’re tryna snack.”

“Send me a lift,” you say.

“Sheeeeesh,” he says, squinting his eyes, biting his lip, and bringing his L shaped fingers to his chin. “We love a gold digger.”

His eyes are starting to un-focus. Good, you hope he passes out in a silly little heap at your feet. Jerk. Clown. Asshole. You sigh affectionately.

“I’m serious. My whip,” you say, watching Marvus close his eyes and smile dreamily at your vernacular, “is outta gas.”

“Well my whip,” you watch him tap something on his palmhusk screen and nearly piss your pants when you hear a clown horn rendition of La Cucaracha horn right outside your window, “is already there.” When you look outside, some huge bug is scuttling horribly up the cliffside. Oh, the buggy- scuttle- scuttlebuggy? It looks like a vintage volkswagon, but stupid and with iridescent green-shifting-purple wings for doors. It’s carrying a pair of pink fuzzy dice in its... Grill? That seems to be the appropriate word: the gold plated mandible brings to mind both gold plated teeth and also the front of a car.

“It’s already paid for. Get ya’self something good,” Marvus says. Then he just hangs up on you.

Well. Beats deep cleaning your kitchen. Then again, your fridge can’t hang up on you.

Think of the devil, you hear something explode inside your fridge. You do not want to know.

You grab your coat and jump out of the window, towards Marvus’s scuttlebuggy.

“Too late, lapachka!” 

A huge clown in a striped shirt stops you at the door to the green room.

Another clown, half his size and with a half-shaved head, peeks her head from around him. “Don’t twist your willy, Silly, that’s Marvus’s-”

Marvus’s what, you’ll never be sure- maybe just Marvus’s, period- because yet another clown pushes her aside and stares down at the catering you’ve got stacked in your hands, mouth rounded and hands-to-cheeks in a delighted expression that only a clown could pull off.

“Marvus’s food, Mimz, back off.” Oh. You hope you aren’t included in that category. This stern clown is smaller than the other two, but is able to push them back into the green room.

The big guy- Silly?- sticks a sucker into his mouth and winks at you. “Za moe zdorov'e,” he says around the sweet.

The other, mime themed one- Mims?- reaches forward like a lover in a movie, desperate for a bite. You hope, for the second time that night, you aren’t a tasty treat for some clown cannibal.

“You know how he gets when he’s hungry.” The stern one pouts at them both, hands on her hips.

The clown signs something, and they all laugh.

“That’s soooo funny,” says the stern one, in a weird affectation of a valley girl accent, tilted slightly towards bored. 

“He’s so-” starts Silly, but steam starts coming out of his nose, and he sighs, sucking harder on the sucker.

The mime signs something at you, raising one brow.

“She’s asking if you’re here to eat,” says the stern one, a suggestive lilt to her tone.

“You think so?” says Silly. God, you can’t get a word in edgewise. And here you were, clowning for free. These guys are clearly professionals. “Maybe he wants an audience of one tonight.” He is no more endearing for his thick, russian-adjacent accent. You bristle. The clowns are laughing.

“The food is mine, actually,” you say, because you love getting killed with extreme prejudice by clowns.

The stern one smiles at you, nudging affectionately. “Sure,” she says. “So you aren’t sharing, zaychik?” She pouts. It's adorable, in the same way that a cougar is adorable until it GETS you.

The mime signs, puffing out her cheeks and pouting.

“We all paid something to be here,” Silly translates through a mouth of marshmallow.

They all look at you as one. You suspect they are only telling a half truth here. For the bit.

And you’re the punchline.

Silly comes back towards you. “Go,” he says, sticking the sucker in your mouth. It’s covered in saliva, but you can’t seem to spit it out. “Enjoy the show. Eat later.”

They slam the door behind you. You can hear the tearing of cheap takeout boxes, laughter, and the loud screaming of “bad ideas through this door: three for one special.”

Well, fuck.

You suck on the lollipop. As you exhale, you notice your breath is warmer, wetter. Steam leaves your nose and gathers around your ears. It's the very physical representation of a bad idea.

Well, why not roll with it? You are hungry for more than just lunch now. Although a quick rolling rumble in your stomach reminds you that lunch was your primary objective.

Damn Marvus. If you don't get your lunch, you're gonna... you're going to....

Well, you'll deep clean his green room and he'll never feel comfortable again. 

A team of blue blooded body guards, suits bursting at the seams, stand guard in front of the stage entrance. So that's not the way. They wiggle and jiggle in your vision; low blood sugar must be making you dizzy.

So. You sigh. You're sneaking in. To one of Marvus's concerts.

And you didn’t even bring your concert diaper.

“Za moe zdorov'e,” you mimic the sound of Silly’s words, sucking sugar, and then you’re pushing your way into the crowd, steam surrounding you.

The guards don’t even try stop you.

You stumble in slow motion through a crowd made of 2-d people. It's like you can see the secret workings of Alternia: all of these trolls are just paper puppets on a string. You follow the lights: all leads to behind Marvus's head.

He is so beautiful. You're struck by him. His smiling face. His easy stage presense. And, to top it off, shawty got the flatty. He looks less flat than the crowd; you suspect his lighting crew is just that good.

All in all, being in the crowd is just like last time. But this time, you're the weird part.

You muscle- a strong word for looking letting trolls see you cry and spooking the hell out of them- your way through towards the front. A girl with succulents in her hair bumps you. Her face drip, drip, drips and sloughs off her skull and into your hair. You wear her face like a mask. Everything is horrible.

The crowd pushes and pulls you. There’s blood fucking everywhere. It gets in your nose. It gets in your mouth. You chew it; it tastes like paper.

God damn it. You started this day rejecting your own groundhog’s day scenario, and look where it’s gotten you. You should have crafted a fucking penguin analogy.

There’s not too much you can do, really, except for hang on to the barrier once you reach it, fighting for your fucking life. You don’t even see the way back, that little path of destiny that led you out here.

You’ve been here before; you think it's a little poetic that the first and- what is becoming more and more likely- the last time you meet Marvus is in his stupid River of Dyx.

The only difference is that the longer the show goes on, the more disoriented you get. You’ve been intoxicated on Alternia before, and you're pretty sure you’re intoxicated once again. The fact that you keep confusing people for plants is a pretty big point in your theory's favor.

It’s got to be the sucker. Or maybe clown saliva is hallucinogenic. Either way, you’re feeling like the sucker now.

And you didn’t even get lunch out of this deal. You’re doing your best to emote a little frowny face above your head so that everyone knows your displeasure.

People are definitely crowding you, as if enough pressure can shrink your stomach. Fold it over itself and make you feel less hungry.

Yes. It's working. You emote a little thumbs up emoji. Nobody is watching you, though, now that you're at the front.

Marvus.

Marvus sings sweetly on stage, his mouth wide and teeth glittering, but you can barely hear him over the screaming of several thousand, bloodthirsty teens. And two saguaros singing operatic scales. Why is singing so much like screaming? The lights lower and frame his head like a halo, and you’re lulled to drowsiness. 

When you open your eyes again, it’s in a sea of cacti and corpses.

You want to scream, but you are already screaming. And so is everyone else, even the corpses.

You don’t know how it happens. If it’s even real. Marvus floats down from the stage like an angel and into the crowd's embrace like a lover. He doesn't cross the barrier. He holds his hand out to you, but you can't move to take it. You're drooling.

You’re floating. You think you’re crowdsurfing, which should be impossible. You’re dead, aren’t you? All the rest of those trolls are.

“I’m dead,” you say, testing the waters. Nobody reacts, or seems to care at all.

Marvus does that thing. The whole well what have we got here LOL etc etc. Just like last time. You can barely see his shadow for the light: two more months of stageplay. His stage voice vibrates in his chest, you can almost feel it in your own sternum. Buzzing like purring.

You wish that whoever was running your life would use a different plot device. Groudhog’s day is so cliche. It’s getting old. 

But, so it goes. He's going to go for the kill again. But this time, you-

There's no starstruckness this time: you’re genuinely afraid. You don’t want to double die on Alternia. You didn’t want to die at all.

The canesword comes towards you. You grab him by the wrist, but he’s so strong and you’re so out of it that it means nothing. So you flinch- 

The canesword stabs you in the shoulder. It hurts like hell. Bone grinds against metal. You pull it out and you bleed all over his shiny, waxed stage. How will he dance with his shoes slick with his blood? When did you get on stage?

“Thought this thing,” you say, groggily, “was a stage prop.”

Marvus’s face is stark raving naked in front of you. Eyes wide, mouth frowning and agape. Shocked.

But he recovers quickly, turning towards the crowd again. He brings the canesword to his mouth and, in what would be corny in a porno, licks your blood from the tip. With a wink and everything. How are you even friends with him. People are screaming. You can only hear the rumbling of his voice in his chest. You just fall uselessly to the ground again. It's all you've got.

When you open your eyes, the world is lit up in black-light and neon paint, all in dizzying stop motion. Two dimensional people on a two dimensional backdrop.

All but Marvus, who is staring at you, frowning in more dimensions that you can interpret. He is so beautiful, slender of jaw and wide of mouth. White knuckled grip on his canesword. Hair so perfect from the ghost of a single, pink curler. His eyes are bright, wild. He's frowning through a smile.

He holds his hand out to you.

You, whether you want to or not, go to him. He grabs you softly by each hand, kissing the backs of them.

"I could take care of you," he whispers. Just for you. "When it all goes to shit, you know? You make my kokoro go doki-doki and shizz." Corpse flowers and roaches bloom from the bodies beneath the stage, now decomposing. "Phee-ew," Marvus plugs his nose. "Ain't that something? Take a fuckin whiff, babe."

He shoves a corpse flower into your face and your whole world goes black.

___

You wake up when water fucking drenches you.

Marvus is chewing and singing softly; you turn to look at him. He sings: “I said it must be ‘cause a,” then he chews and hums through the word, scrolling on his phone, “got dough. Extraordinary swag and a mouth full of-” he pops the last bite of food in his mouth, still humming, then juggles a water balloon and throws it at the wall above you.

“Mouth full of what,” you say, unamused and soaking wet.

His head jerks up. “You up, babe?”

You want to answer, but you’re too busy coughing and choking on what tastes like your own blood and tap water. 

“Daayyyum, shawty!” Marvus says, doing that stupid fuckboy lip bite again. When you don't smile, he rips a piece of meat apart, grabs a pinch of rice, and shoves it into your mouth. “Mouth full of that.”

His thumb brushes your lip; you had no idea his skin was so oily. You wonder if he's been picking food up off the floor and eating it with his fingers. He wipes some sauce from your lip, and then sticks his thumb into your mouth. You tongue the last bit of rice from the whorls of his finger tip, some sauce from under his nail. A hint of his sweat accompanies the flavors of what is unmistakably chinese food.

He feeds you like that for a while. There are no cameras. Your head is pounding. He wipes your mouth for you every so often after you cough and the napkin is stained red.

His voice is soft when he speaks next, shoving a piece of orange chicken into your mouth. “Gotta get better at lying, bud.”

“Lying?” You ask through your mouth full of food.

He shrugs, taking his own bite of orange chicken. He’s holding his chopsticks all fucked up; it’s a miracle any food makes it to his mouth. “Killed you that first time ‘cause you was dying, dog. Killed you this time ‘cause you lied.”

“You’re really bad at killing me,” you say. His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t smile. He pinches your cheeks, forcing your mouth open, and sticks the bite meant for him into your mouth. His mouth is bigger than  yours; it's an ordeal to chew and swallow. What a way to tell you to shut up.

“Guess so,” he says, putting his chopsticks down. He’s resolutely not looking at your face. His gaze is fixated on your shoulder. “All lies got a little bit of truth in ‘em, though.” He rubs the ruined, bloody fabric of your shirt between his thumb and forefinger. It's so ginger that you want to interpret it as shy.

You shrug his hand away and- ah, shit, you’re still bleeding pretty bad. His bubblegum pink couch is a mess of your blood.

“What about you?” You ask, unable to tear your gaze away from his dilated pupils. The grain of rice stuck to his lip. “That guy on stage, how much truth is there in that?” You reach out-

“Lot of truth in that,” he says, wiping the grain of rice away with his thumb. Sticking it into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. He doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t ask.

“This is just like our first meeting,” you say, but it comes out flat.

“Nah,” Marvus says, offering you the box of beetle and broccoli. You decline. “Totally different. Now, you know what I'm all about.”

It’s a very sweet thing to say. Marvus seems to think so too, because he fucks it up immediately. “Now we’re tight. We’re buds. Ain’t we?”

“Oh,” you say. “Yeah. Dope.” You try for a winning smile, but Marvus isn’t having it.

“Sure didn’t act like it out there, though.” Oh, god, he’s honest-to-god pouting at you. He sticks a beetle into his mouth. It crunches. Sickening.

“Marvus,” you say, just as testy. “I don’t even know what was happening. Also I am bleeding so profusely. Oh, god, wait,” horror fills you. It couldn’t be real, could it? “Marvus.” You sit up, clutching on to your shoulder. “Do I make your kokoro go doki-doki?”

"Do I make your what-ero go who what now?" He gives you a scrunched-up look, confused.

Oh, thank god.

“Never mind,” you say, laying back down. If your blood won’t remain in your body, by god you are going to let your body remain on his couch. 

“Guess you was a lil confused before, huh?” He says, suddenly understanding. He pulls something off your pants... Oh, the stick to the sucker. You chewed off some of the paper, making the world’s shittiest, most useless shank. “Without me?” He pouts, but this time it's so fake you could see yourself laughing about it.

But, frankly, you’re still feeling testy. Does he not care that you’re bleeding out on his couch? That you were drugged? Kicked out of his greenroom that he invited you to?

“Friends,” you start, giving him a much more prodigious pout than he gave you. “Keep each other safe.”

“Not on Alternia, they dont.” Marvus’s eyes have gone soft, flitting from you to your shoulder; he flexes his hands, cracking his fingers.

“Well, I thought you would.”

Marvus physically startles at this, looking completely bewildered.

“You said you’d take care of me,” you say, and then you realize that was some kind of drug induced fever dream. “Or, you did in my dream.”

Marvus leans forward, slow and careful. He leans his elbows on his knees and folds his hands together. “Well, ain’t I said all lies got a little bit of truth in them?”

Then he leans in.

He’s smiling, his teeth sharp and glittering. “You been dreaming bout me, babe?”

“Yeah,” you stutter, leaning back. His eyes are on yours, pupils so dilated they’re black.

“And what do you know about me? Ain’t you been taught to be afraid?” His words wash over your face in a humid smog and you can smell his breath: chinese food and something earthy, probably bugs.

You don’t say anything, suddenly still as the wall stops you from backing up anymore.

“You was afraid back then,” his eyes lower to your shoulder, and his lids grow heavy. “When you got stabbed." He drags his hand under his eyes, revealing the purple waters.

“Nice passive voice, asshole. You stabbed me.”

He laughs, bringing his hand up to cover his eyes this time, and then he leans in further.

You think, for a wild moment, that he’s going to kiss you. His fingers come from his eyes to wrap around your head, his thumb stroking your jaw. He looks at you; you close your eyes. His breath is humid against your throat, and then his lips touch the edge of your wound.

It's simultaneously a kiss, and nothing like it. It stings.

His eyes roll up in a characature of ecstasy. He's looking straight at you.

To say you’re shocked is an understatement. You are so out of your element that you can only really roll with it.

He licks you, next, your red blood bright on his bruiseberry-grey tongue. Your breath stutters; it’s a sweet kind of pain, like pressing against a hangnail, or wrapping a bruise.

He hums beneath you. “Like that,” he breathes, and you don’t know if he’s asking or telling or offering, but you nod anyway.

He sighs against the wound, and then wraps his lips around your shoulder, pressing his teeth slightly into your skin.

His other hand has made its way to your waist, and he’s petting you slowly, like you’re his human stim toy. His other hand grabs you behind the shoulder, and he pulls you closer to him, groaning against your skin.

It hurts. It hurts, and it doesn't; it's so bizarre that it manages a horrible, frightening intimacy. His breath is on your skin. He's making noises that you can't inerpret. His fingers comfort. He- there's no better word for it- laps at your blood.

You, for your part, curl around him. Wind the perfect forlock of his hair through your fingers and ruin it. You ruin each other: Marvus gives you anemia, you give him a bad hair day.

With his lips around the gushing wound on your shoulder, he sucks slowly, looking up at you and giving you this shy smile like he’s not sure if you like it.

“Yeah,” you say. The world grows fuzzy at the edges. His eyes close as his tongue hits your skin, and you sigh.

His breath stutters against your neck, then he bites you. So, you pull his hair, hissing.

When he opens his eyes, he smiles again, his show smile. As if you're pulling it out of him. Twinkling on, your little star.

His hair is inhuman beneath your fingers, like very fine wire.

You close your eyes.

"You owe me lunch," you say.

And then you don’t wake up.

#my writing #scraps #itty bitty as in ''if you do it right you'll break their ribs'' btw

[jedi-bird]

Hello! for the meme for shippers: 2, 9, and 25 :) :) :)

2) Talk about three of the most important ships throughout your life.

I had to think about this one for a bit because my memory isn't great some days and my ships change quite often. But probably the most important for me was Clint/Coulson. I kind of stumbled into it at a time when life was... not feeling worth continuing. And an obsession very quickly grew lmao. On the nights when I couldn't sleep but I couldn't turn lights on in the house because of a stalker, I would sit and read fanfics of them until the sun would come up. I can't even remember or find half those fics anymore, but I still love them with all my heart.

Second would probably be Baze/Chirrut. Spiritassassin still holds a very dear place in my heart and nothing is prying them away from me.

Third is Sakura and Li from Cardcaptor Sakura. Probably one of my favorite canon ships. I love the innocence and the friendship that grows into something deeper. They are adorable together in every version Clamp has made and I love having a "pg" ship if you will. Reading the manga always reminded me that love doesn't have to be grand gestures and wild passions. It can be holding hands or sharing a meal or just supporting each other. I never needed anything more that the manga and anime had, because to me it was perfect.

9) Do you have many ships that never got together at all?

Officially? Probably most of them 🤣

I never understood the need for ships to me canon. I'm happy when it happens and a lot of the time I wish people who wish it to be good luck. But for me, I like just enjoying my own little thoughts without having to worry about whether I got it right or wrong. In fact, I'm probably personally happier that most of my ships aren't canon. It makes it more fun to keep coming up with more and more ideas I'll never write (or likely finish if I do).

And if we're talking about do I ship characters but then have them break up in my fantasies, why yes. Yes I have. Someday maybe I'll write the rebelcaptain divorce fic that floats around in my head at times. Or I'll quit whimping out and finish the Bodhi/Cassian fic and do the ending in afraid to do.

25) Have you ever shipped a pairing before you even started watching the show/movie simply because of the gifs and graphics or similar?

Short answer. Yes. Sort of.

Long before I ever had the chance to watch Star Wars Rebels, I shipped both Hera/Kanan and Zeb/Kallus. Years of amazing art work drew me in so when I finally had the time and ability to watch shows again I was already a big fan of both ships. Obviously, I had been watching Star Wars for years, but most of the cartoons I watched long after everyone else moved on.

I ship Will and Hannibal even though I'll never be able to watch the show (I've tried and it's far too graphic for me, so I just live it through friends posting gifs and fics). Same with some video game characters for games I've never played. The power of great art and passionate friends draws me in lol.

Mostly though, I'll watch something and then see people drawing art or writing about characters I didn't think about and wind up falling into the ships after reconsider. The demi/ace part of me tends to not see ships on a first viewing unless they're canon and even then, sometimes I hate them lol.

Thank you for the ask! It's much appreciated!

#about me #thanks for the ask! #my star wars brain rot is taking over everything right now so I've been neglecting a lot of things #i have so many fics either started and ideas written down but i don't know if I'll ever get them written #I'd like to get some of them down though #hopefully I'll have time again soon

[tachvintlogic]

Hi!!

I’m making a fan theory/HC for a LU fic I’m working on that incorporates some Danny Phantom-esque aspects, and I figured you were like the perfect person to ask about it bc they’re both right in your wheelhouse haha

But do you think it’s reasonable to say that the goop Dink explodes into in LU could be ectoplasm? It’s malleable and permits shapeshifting, and can reform into whole beings even after they’re initially destroyed like Wild destroyed the Darknut in the sunset arc (this is also going off of the concept doodles Jojo drew of wind watching Dark Link reforming out of a pile of black goo).

(Also please feel free to ignore this if it’s a nuisance lol sorry)

Aw, dude, you're not a nuisance! You don't need to apologize!

I have never thought about that, but that sounds so cool! The concept of Dink being a blob of ectoplasm that can reform and infect things (I think the black blood is because monsters are infected by his goo) reminds me of doctor's disorders, Johnny 13's Shadow, or even the clones since they too melt into puddles of goo.

Now I'm thinking about it, what if Dink is a failed clone of Time and is now a partially-destabilized goo-man? He can't keep a form for long so he becomes goo when defeated, but he can reform so long as he isn't hit when enough light magic.

The black blood is all just a part of himself, so he's basically possessing all those monsters which is why they so focused on protecting him.

As for said goo being Danny Phantom ectoplasm specifically, I'm pretty sure that in Danny Phantom, the real is that anything "alive" that's made of ectoplasm can use invisibility/intangibility, and Idk if you want to give Dink that. However, the general concept of ectoplasm beyond Danny Phantom absolutely works.

One thing I would recommend you check out is @floralflowerpower and her post on ectoplasm being a pyscho-reactive substance, aka "mood slime" as Ghostbusters put it.

#danny phantom #linked universe #linkeduniverse #tach's asks

[transfemininomenon]

38 and 40 for elizabeth and 62 and 63 for moonshadow teehee

BLESS

38. What fairytale/myth suits your character the best?

oh LOVE this question this is gonna be a Long answer lmao i very much base my characters a lot off of those things

well there's the obvious one with elizabeth in vampire stories in General lol not only is her patron a vampire she herself because of that patron has become a dhampir & draws power from her vampiric pact. surprisingly though i based most of her back story way less on vampire stories but instead off of ghost ones - ghosts are an incredibly inherent part of who she is & have been as far back as she can remember. in particular i drew inspiration from the haunting of hill house, the entire album Ghost by radical face especially, and banshees

the novella carmilla also was what inspired me initially to want to play a Vampire Girl and also inspired her noble background

finally wicked inspired SO much of her, both in the form of her having lost a sister she incredibly cared about and that kinda Breaking her a little bit, and also because pretty much her entire pact is based off of the major theme of misguided needs to "punish the wicked" that turns normally good, ordinary people into bloodthirsty horrors, with that happening both with her making her pact to Begin with after that very thing happened to her sister & now her doing it right back to the people she blames for her death

bonus bit for this question for my dear girl Primrose - i based a lot of her aesthetic, personality, and her drive to become a bard off of my own love for plays & old greek myths, with her initially being drawn to being a bard growing up both because of her mom telling her a lot of stories & her seeing the dnd equivalent of a midsummer night's dream as a child and that really Awakening something in her. her favorite story is also canonically the myth of orpheus & eurydice by flavored for dnd

40. Describe a corruption/redemption arc version of your character.

ohoho this is great because truly depending on how the campaign plays out i fully setup elizabeth to have one of these happen lol

as far as a corruption arc i could see her falling further into her violent & bloodthirsty side that awakens in combat in particular when she uses her form of dread, by either those starting to take over steadily as she fights more or out of desperation to get More Powerful either in the name of protecting those around her so she doesnt lose people she cares about Again or in the name of the vengeance that she swore & hasnt fully come to realize yet is incredibly misguided and will only perpetuate cycles of violence

for a redemption arc both her sister & her Ex-Girlfriend Who She Is Definitely Over were secretly worshippers of the raven queen & ever since things all went Wrong she's developed a real complicated relationship thinking about that goddess. this comes both from worship of her being outlawed in the region she lives in & from her having an INcredibly skewed and weird relationship with death & her simply not understanding why it comes for good people while awful ones get to survive

so that being said i fully expect her to have that strange relationship with the raven queen develop throughout the campaign & probably eventually come to some kind of Understanding and forsake her vampiric origins

62. Who does your character think is the most put together in the party? 

honestly fully moonshadow definitely thinks morty is lol overall she actually thinks everyone is more put together than they each give themselves credit for considering all the Wild stuff theyve evidently been experiencing & going through (including some of the stuff she's been there for), but she thinks morty is the most put together in terms of like, seeing all the incredibly Wild shit going on and doing his best to be like "okay, okay, let's try to make SOME sense out of this,"

63. Which party member would they pull a prank on? Who would they plan a prank with?

absolutely would pull a prank on silas because she's endlessly fascinated by him seeming So Serious & yet also having so many goofy aspects of his appearance currently and she'd want to see if he even CAN be pranked. she'd absolutely pair up with elise and/or mal to plan pranks with because she trusts them the most to be up for Wild stuff

[bethanyactually]

Hi Bethany! how are you, my wonderful, precious and just all around sweet friend?

so, i just saw this set you reblogged from Nancy Drew and i don't really watch the show but i enjoy the sets you reblog and i trust your judgment completely when it comes to good shows, my fellow human being *wink* *wink* or should i say *pop* *pop* lol

anyWHO!!

so can i do one of those things where i describe what the show's about even tho i've never seen it?!!! cause i love those!

so does she get possessed by spirits and like each episode is a different one? she's like psychic and that's how her gift works??? cause the name of the episode from that set (and god bless ur immaculate tagging) and the way she's being extra jealous (in the funniest way btw that Annette line is really good) would suggest that.

so did i get it right?

love you and hope u had a wonderful day, dear <333

[link to the post mentioned in the ask]

Ha! That would be an amazing show: a psychic who gets possessed by various spirits! In fact, now that I've typed that out, I feel like maybe that IS a thing? A show where someone gets possessed by spirits and it helps them solve mysteries? I guess there are kinda shades of that plot in a couple other shows I can think of...Medium, Pushing Daisies...probably more I'm forgetting or never watched.

But no, sadly, that's not how Nancy Drew goes. 😜 Many of the characters on the show have been possessed by different ghosts/entities at various times, but no one is psychic. It's just regular old mysteries with a supernatural twist, so sometimes ghosts/demons/witches are involved. (And as a non-American you may or may not realize this, but Nancy Drew is actually a well-known character from a mystery series that was initially published over 90 years ago. The Hardy Boys books were from the same publishing company; both series were written by a series of various authors over the years. In the French translations, Nancy's name was changed to Alice Roy, so you might have come across those while studying French.)

This was a delightfully random surprise to find in my inbox--a wild ask meme!! 😄 Thank you, fellow Human Being, for it and for just generally all the goodness you add to my life. 💛

#internet friends ftw #whoselineisitanywho

[transsexualunderground]

a ramble on my personal canon that turned into a ramble about the production and universe implications of the TVS and RWS

*cracks knuckles despite not being able to* today i shall talk about my personal canon for ttte/rws because i'm in the mood for an infodump :sunglasses:

you may be wondering, jade, what the hell is this supposed to mean? basically it's me trying to stitch a patchwork of the classic series canon, hit era, cgi, rws, and my own oc stuff to my liking.

...and i'll also admit i wrote this really tired, but I wanted to infodump so bad. putting the rest below the cut!

so far, my most simple summary of it so far is that it's mostly the RWS with the timeline of the model series. things from the RWS happen in the order they happened in the TVS (albeit not with the exact same execution as the RWS or the TVS all the time). Series 5's events happen, as do series 6's and maybe some of series 7's? But also, events that didn't get adapted to the model series happen, as to characters, such as Bear and two entire railways. I also wanted to take some characters from hit era and beyond, albeit I'm not sure I have a complete list yet.

I'm also including the UHR, aka the Ulfstead Heritage Railway, my original smaller railway that kinda... happened. Basically, a variation on Toby's Discovery happens, and the controllers of the railways, not quite sure what to do with it, end up with an offer from my oc, Tiffany Lancaster. She offers to run the track and perhaps then some as a heritage railway. Restoration ensues! It connects to the Skarloey, as seemingly shown in the show, and the NWR. I also decided it runs around inside Ulfstead itself and a bit further south to the Ulfstead Castle and The Mansion, which I'm using the RWS canon for and saying they're a preserved castle and mansion-turned-expensive-fancypants-hotel respectively. Sorry, no Estate Railway here... maybe, I haven't watched relevant CGI episodes yet, but something about a castle on top of a mine sounds horribly structurally unstable. But it's not like anyone lives at that castle anyways.

Other things I'm consolidating include: Toby's Branch Line and the Arlesdale Railway run near each other, like in the 2014 map of Sodor. I've elected to put Toby's Old Line on Sodor like in the TVS. James's red coat of paint comes after his accident, like in the RWS and CGI canons. Thomas just kinda Showed Up, like in the RWS. And Henry doesn't need the special coal post-rebuild like in the RWS, albeit he still might have some occasional problems.

honestly, i just wanted to write this because I was sorting out my OC event timeline for my fanbooks, realized I've been using the TVS timeline the entire time, remembered I had a personal canon, and then went wild assigning series to events and year estimates.

And, to be fair, in-universe, these stories were NOT written at the time they happened or anywhere near 'em until much later into my fanbooks, if at all. My stories are written in modern day both in-universe and out because of whatever the heck the Secondman got up to, so this is a bit loose! And setting them in more vague years, like the TVS did, might help me in the long run somehow. Toward the Christopher Awdry part of the RWS's run, more stories were written just so the TVS could have stories to base things off of, so I'm genuinely unsure if they're supposed to be records of a past year in the RWS canon or set closer to the year they were written or what. I may have worded that weird because I'm tired, but basically, if those stories were written to be scrambled in with the others in the early TVS, does that mean that they took place during different times rather than when one would think the books are set?

Despite being the guy who posted the links to RWS resources, I still don't know as much as I'd like to, LOL. And consolidating multiple canons, while fun, is tiring. So with this, I shall end this ramble. Goodnight. I leave you with MS Paint Wesley whom I drew with a mouse and also whilst very tired. I could not wrap my head around perspective tonight LOL

#ttte #thomas the tank engine #thomas and friends #the railway series #railway series #rws #secondman says #bonus doodle included #and it looks so bad in the best way possible #ocs? i could tag my ocs i guess #but i dont wanna. too sleepy #secondman storytelling

[soulfullofold]

what;s up miner and crafter. do ora's playlist with that playlist post you sent me (i'm trembling how did you insert a link into that ask) Quickly.

OF COURSE. look im gonna do it again. 🪄 HERE IS THE POST

song that is pretty accurate to the character’s story *that i MADE FIT

adding this* stipulation because these picks were both accurate enough to storyboard entire amvs to...but the inherent narrative framing of the songs and some of the details i interpreted loosely in order to fit those structures. does that make sense. they're accurate because i made them accurate sadfasd -- yours & mine by lucy daucus (now a lil outdated but i still like it) and wide open spaces by soccer mommy

song that doesn’t fit the character at all but i was thinking about them while listening to it on loop

i thought my entire playlist would be this but they mostly all fit in SOME way in vibe, sound, lines...or now they are just associated with ora bc i've listened to them so many times. i think the most accurate answer for this is no shortcuts by heather maloney. this is also the first song on her playlist and the first one i put on her playlist! i hadn't figured out ora's personality or story or anything, really. i just liked the sound so much that it became the one that started it all... c)=^)

song that has one or two lines accurate to the character’s story

very literally. 1 john 4:16 by the mountain goats . "but i know you're thinking of me 'cause it's just about to rain..." arguably also "the endless string of summer storms that led me to today / began one afternoon with you, long ago and far away..." and "if the clouds are gathering, it's just to point the way / to an afternoon i spent with you when it rained all day..."

song that just kind of is the character’s vibe

jeff davis county blues by the mountain goats is just sort of her vibe. not really anything literal about the lyrics, but the deep feeling of traveling away from someone you love and still feeling like a lost runaway kid. meet you at the gate

song that just kind of is the character’s vibe

meet you at the gate by jayne trimble it just IS gamers. ghost feelings.....

song that is NOT the character's vibe

taking some creative liberties and adding this prompt because nothing in the post really got at this kind of song. inexplicably juniper by begonia is on here despite having to do little with her in terms of sound, delivery, lyrics, content, not even a line or two to save it. can't explain it but she is wives with the song that comes after her.

song that i desperately wish they would listen to because i personally like it

LITERALLY I NEED ORA TO LISTEN TO good woman by the staves SO BAD IT'S THE REASON WHY I PUT THIS ON HER PLAYLIST!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOURE A GOOD, GOOD WOMAN......

song that fits the character so well that it’s scary

GOD. going in by wild child. 100% her. a dear friend of mine introduced me to wild child when we were both plotting rp / character interactions with her character and ora, and so many of their songs ended up on her playlist. but this was the first new release the band did when i was a fan of them and it was like it was written for her. i drew her bday piece in 2022 to this song ;m;

unsure why this song is *STILL in the playlist but it’s so ingrained in my mind as 'part of the playlist' that it would feel weird to remove it

changed the prompt again because i know why i put all of these on there, but even though i KNOW i would remove them in the public-facing one, should i ever publish it, they're here because they're a a part of the journey LMAO the sickness unto death by typhoon, is leftover from an earlier plot musing that i've scrapped. so is tangles by lady lamb. it astounds me to think i was going to make an amv to this because girl what. girl where. literally which part. anyway! anddd loving her by katie pruitt. nothing against katie but i'm embarrassed to have this one on here lol i didn't really want it on there in the first place but i was amazed about a vaguely twangy sound about wlw love and it just hasn't left LMAO. it's kind of cheugy to me

ANYWAY that's it! at the time of writing this, ora's main playlist has 103 songs on it! i do literally have a dozen other ora-related playlists too but that's another ask for another day

#asked and answered #1ore #ask box meme response #ocs #ora #denora walker

[yaminerua]

re-reading those posts I made back in March about trying to align the clamp school timelines and I think I was possessed or something bc I went absolutely wild trying to sort this stuff out in my head lmao

I still really wish I had a Japanese copy of 20 Mensou to verify what it says bc the English release is very confusing with Utako turning 6 twice and Akira switching grades in the middle randomly while no-one else does

But noticing that threw me into trying to align the clamp school series’ with Tokyo Babylon all happening at the same time and ended up losing my mind drawing up age charts to figure out stuff bc of things like the twins technically being a year older than is expected for a first year high schooler

Also plotting out the events chronologically I ran into what I’m calling the Ouran problem (bc of a post I saw of the OHSHC manga saying to ignore any graduations that ought to happen but don’t and I think that sort of thing applies here too. Continuity is very loose across these stories).

bc clamp school detectives for example begins in winter (they reference the Xmas party that’s also mentioned in 20 Mensou) and 20 Mensou’s story started earlier on in summer but they both end up back in summer again without moving up a grade (probably bc it would nudge Nokoru into junior high instead of elementary)

and then I drew up this whole timeline where I modified the detectives’ ages down a year so they start a grade lower and move up into the grades we already know them as so that the timeline might make a bit of sense lol and plotted every event across 20 Mensou, Duklyon, CS Detectives and TB with whatever dates/months/seasons something is stated to take place in over the 1990/91 period

I’ve never found a good way to get everything that was in my head out in a way that makes sense so I have drafts and drafts of this kind of directionless rambling xD why did I invest so much mental energy into this? Reading it all back is exhausting xD

#I think originally I was only trying to figure out birth years for the characters and then I noticed age discrepancies and it snowballed