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chihuahuawashere · 2 months

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RadioStatic

Vox has cameras /everywhere/ around all of hell but he doesn't pay attention to those. He has imps and other sinners to do that for him.

The only cameras he actually pays attention to is the cameras he put around Alastors house.

Before Alastor disappearance Vox would crash at Alastors place when he was to tired to make it all the way back to his place.

But as Alastor slept in his room Vox took the couch but as Vox was in the living room he was placing tiny tiny cameras alliii over the place. In the corner wity a cobweb, behind the books, inside of the record player, behind the sink, on top of the fridge, on top of the lights and vents, on top of the door freams /everywhere/ each and ever time Vox went to Alastors place he would add more and more cameras.

And once Vox went back home he'll watch. Never saying a word and blindly watch all of the blue screens or Alastor, never leaving the chair. Vox would be stuck in the computer room for /days/ he would foraet to eat sleep breath he would even forget his application to his job obligation.

The one room with the most cameras in it is Alastors room. Every square inch and corner in that room has cameras it was tricky to do but to Vox it was worth it. He had back up of back up of footage of Alastor sleeping and he swears it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Sometimes when he watched Alastor sleep he has an insane urge to zap through the cameras and crawl in bed with him. But then Alastor would find out and kill hilariously on the spot so he just watches.

But it wasn’t enough //everything// wasn’t enough he wants to be closer to him. Taste touch, hear, smell. He knows he can’t so he drags a mattress into the computer room with him so that every time Alastor is going to bed he’ll lay on his bed to give the illusion that he was also laying in bed with him.

Vox would never sleep he just lays there watching Alastor sleep.

That all changed of course once Alastor disappeared. That completely rocked voxs world so hard he thought he was going crazy. At first he thought all of his cameras dead in Alastors home or he thought that something was wrong with his computers but he knew //something// was wrong he needs to see him. With seeing Alastor is a world not worth seeing at all.

After literally destroying everything in the computer room he tries to book it to Alastors place to replace the cameras and also see his beautiful face and crave that itch. But the house wasn’t there. No like the town seem to swallow it hole there was no empty space anywhere it as if his home wasn’t there at all.

Vox had walked down this road and turned to that corner so many times that he can do it with his eyes closed so… where is he? What happened?? Is he hurt??? Why didn’t he say goodbye???? did I do something wrong????? WHY DIDNT HE BRING ME WITH HIM WERE A TEAM???????

After 3 months Vox made a pillow of Alastor. Vox has been around him so long that he already knows he’s measurements by heart he cut the perfect silhouette of Alastor, made his clothes from scratch when to the same shop to get the same perfume that he always use to wear and dye and cut a wig, glued on some ears and antlers.

In the dark it look exactly like him except it has no face. Everything looks real you can even get confused it in the dark as the real Alastor.

At first Val thought he was crazy for doing that but coping is a weird thing also he was in /no/ place to try and kink shame someone so he just let it be, creeped the fuck out but tie better then some sinners he’s seen.

Vel on the other hand hates this whole thing she hated Vox for liking Alastor and he’s obsession with him but after Alastor disappeared she absolutely HATED pillow Alastor even more then anything she thought she could ever hate it so creepy especially at night. One time Vox try to make Vel have conversation with it and she blew up on him calling him a creep and weirdo that he should get and LET HIM GO.

After that Vox /never/ left the computer room. He’ll have imps come on once in a while to give him food and drinks.He was so busy looking threw all of the Security cameras around hell to see if he can find Alastor again it was his soul mission at that point.

After the year 3 mark Vox bought a RoBo Frizz and tweaked and modified it to make it look more like Alastor (basically the same thing he did with the pillow) but this time he grabbed all the files of Alastor speaking and cut chopped them all together to make answers, sentences, questions if it couldn’t get any worse it helped Vox fuel his delusion even more.

And after 7 long years of looking through all those cameras the one time Val came to visit Vox in his computer room looked terrible. Pictures of Alastor everywhere with notes and drawings and other sorts of fluids with pins on them and a bunch of colored sting all pointing to random things with new paper clippings and “Xs” drawn on them.

It all looked absolutely terrible. How can someone live like this? How long has Vox even been in here? He definitely needs to go outside. Val tries to reason with him “hey man let’s just go to the kitchen yea? Or how about we go to the bathroom? how does a bath sound?” But all Vox says is that he’s “busy doing something important”

And Val got mad at him and couldn’t bite his tongue any longer and accidentally slipped that Alastor was back. But of course Val can’t keep a secret for the life of him, always having to run his mouth even if cost him his life so it was no surprise that he let it slip that Alastor was finally back Val and Vel promised one another to /never/ tell Vox that he was back otherwise only god knows Vox would react to it.

Vox completely stoped what he was doing and for the first time in forever looked away at the computer and monitors and he just *stared* but Val with a look Val has never seen before, then Vox broke out into the most creepy and unsettling smile you could ever see in hell. /OH/ Vox couldn’t be more happier then he is right now

#hazbin hotel vox #vox #alastor x vox #vox x alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel #radiostatic #staticradio #voxal

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spacebarbarianweird · 3 months

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HC of Astarion x fem Elf Tav who’s a Druid, more specifically of the Circle of The Spores subclass. She wears skirts and dresses of dark teals and blacks with gold embroidery and legs round gold glasses, always travels with herbs and roots in her pockets and pouches, and is never afraid to raise an army of the fungal infested undead for the hell of it. Basically she’s the healer who puts on a neutral front but is begging for the chance to rightfully unleash chaos and destruction

Hi! Oh, this is a nice design of a character! And I am sucker for elf!Tav because they can live for many centuries. And Spore Circle is absolutely badass. It turned out to be weird, creepy and bittersweet and I hope you like it! I also tag @tolkien-fantasy since they love Spore Druids.

Astarion x Spore Circle Druid!Tav

There is a thing about Spore Druids.

Unlike your colleagues, you don't particularly hate the undead.

If anything, your magic is about death, too.

Mold and fungi transform lifeless material into something new and weird.

Death isn't the end, it's just a new stage.

The problem with the undead is that they often wish things would stay the same and never change.

Which is unnatural.

Life is about growth and death is about transformation.

You encourage Astarion to heal and grow.

The worst thing about his past was stability and the belief nothing was going to change.

But somehow he preserved his personality and now he slowly demonstrates his ability to "live" in his undeath.

Though, you scare him a bit.

You can resurrect the dead with spores, turning them into zombies, alive and dead, hungry and terrifying.

You infect the corpses and transform them into your loyal servants.

And you can use the same spores to make your enemies blind, deaf, or paralyzed.

Astarion calls you a walking hotbed of plague.

Though, of course, he is in awe - mostly because everything you do is between life and death, which is the stage he himself is stuck in.

But your magic is beautiful.

Mushrooms growing on dead bodies.

Mold desecrating the food.

Fungi bringing life to the most desolate places.

Post-game, Astarion doubts whether to go with you, but you assure him that the Spore Circle will accept him due to his ability to change.

You study the fungi to find answers to your questions and his problems.

The spores can make him more like a living person.

They can protect him from the sun, and they can let him eat normal food.

The prospect scares Astarion - he's seen the infected corpses. It's creepy.

And what if this magic fungi takes over his mind?

You don't insist. It's his choice, after all.

And you are an elf yourself, you have plenty of time.

But the life in the shadows and hunger take a toll on Astarion.

He doesn't want to be an undead. He wants to be alive.

And if his vampirism can't be cured, why not let nature change him?

At least, if you promise his personality won't be affected.

It won't, you are sure of that.

Astarion lets you infect him with the spores.

This transformation is nothing like becoming a vampire.

It's soft, gentle, warm.

Astarion feels like dreaming, sleeping in a warm bed.

The only thing he acknowledges is your presence. You check on him all the time sometimes meditating close to his "fungi grave".

It take almost a year for spores to finish their job, reconstructing his dead flesh.

A lonely year of being alone in your bed.

When Astarion wakes up, he doesn't feel the hunger anymore.

The sun doesn't burn him and he stays in the sunlight for hours before you come to take him home.

The symbiotic fungi has restored his organs to the point where they functioned as they are supposed to.

Astarion is scared to see himself in the mirror - but when he does he sees himself.

Though, there are some changes.

There are golden spots of spores in is eyes and barely visible cobwebs on his legs and arms.

And he is warm. He is so warm.

With his newfound "life", Astarion gets some new abilities, similar to the ones you have.

He can cast spores and rise up the dead, infecting them.

He can hear the fungi songs, connecting his mind with this ancient entity.

And he can feel you.

You know each other thoughts, each other intentions, and presence.

He always knows where you are. He feels your emotions, your sorrows and happiness and you feel him the same way.

You are more than thiramins, more than lovers.

But the best gift the spores gave to Astarion is mortality.

One day, the fungi will slowly take over his body and mind, transforming the flesh once again, bringing him mor, the final death.

And if you are still alive by this moment, you will let spores take over you so you can be together in this next stage of life and death.

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce

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toxicanonymity · 9 months

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Shooting Practice

1600 words, raider!Joel x f!reader

mood board by @milla-frenchy

A/N: FLASHBACK TO BEFORE YOU ESCAPE.. This isn't what I was working on 🚬🤡. I'm still working on the next one after Close. WARNINGS: I8+ captivity, angst, brief dubcon (via captivity) p in V. Inaccurate assumptions about shooting and gun related stuff plz suspend disbelief. Huge fuck-it-we-ball energy. Raider Joel Master List, His trailer

FLASHBACK / IMAGINE

Between "Stash House" and "Failed Escape. "

Joel leaves you in his trailer sometimes if he isn't taking you on a raid. His trailer is nice compared to the stash house. Especially because his men aren't there, but it's also a little cleaner. You sense he’s a practical man. He doesn’t have things he doesn't need, aside from whiskey. He could sleep on the ground with nothing. The fact that his bed has sheets and a blanket–no, the fact that he even has a bed and lets you sleep in it–feels like a luxury. He doesn't just let you sleep in it. He holds you. It feels more protective than affectionate but you feel safe.

Joel only uses the bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. When you come in the front door, you enter into the eating area, and turn left for the bathroom and bedroom. But if you turn to the right, there’s more. It’s a small galley kitchen. There’s a pantry full of ammunition and cabinets to your right, a utility closet, a closet, and then a room you’ve never seen Joel use.

In the living room, the carpet is scratched through in some places. It’s dusty. There’s an old forlorn sofa. The roof leaks on that end of the trailer. There’s a giant spot on the thin, blue, speckled carpet.The carpet is full of stains with various items scattered around. A dust buster. Two empty pet bowls in the corner, covered in cobwebs. There’s a TV/VCR combo and a radio. There are shelves with warped and faded books.

The first time you notice the children’s books, it makes your stomach turn. You ask Joel who used to live there. Hell if he knows, it was empty, the whole trailer park was. Most of the trailers are gutted, their insides destroyed by a fire. This one had been far enough away. You try not to think too much about who used to live there. You try spending time in the living room and it feels like your own space, but it's also spooky.

Joel has one of his men keeping an eye on you from down the hill, but it's for protection--to stop any of his men from going up there. You're allowed to go outside. When you have an opportunity, you explore the immediate area around the trailer– the top of the hill, and the woods. There isn’t much to see, and you don’t go far, afraid he’ll come back and think you’re trying to escape.

When you're hungry one afternoon, you try to forage for mushrooms in the woods. You find a collapsed, faded tent with a lump under it. Your gut tells you it’s a body. The next day, it’s in the same spot. You’re probably right. Joel always says it’s too dangerous, you shouldn’t go in the woods, and now you know why.

----------

One day, you’re feeling particularly restless, but you stay inside. When Joel gets home, he grabs ammunition from the pantry and is about to do target practice outside. You overhear him shooting when he does it.

“Can I watch,” you ask.

He glances at you skeptically, then mutters “yeah okay.”

You walk around back with him, the opposite side of the stash house, to the opposite ridge of the hill, facing the trailer park, with the woods on your left. There are shells of abandoned cars scattered behind the trailers.

The two trailers you’re looking at are marked up with spray paint, x’s, o’s, stick figures. One of the stick figures has a gaping hole in the head and smaller holes around it.

Joel sets up his rifle and gets down on his stomach, which gives you butterflies to watch. His triceps flex as he gets into position and his shapely lower body holds an interesting pose as he peers into the sight of his gun. He takes a shot and you don’t see where it goes.

“What’d you hit?”

Joel glances at you. “Trailer”

“Where?”

“See that guy with the hole in his head? went through that.”

You settle in to watch, legs folded to the side, fingers exploring a clover patch while he shoots. You pluck the little white flowers and consider making a crown out of them, but you would feel silly in front of Joel. You tear them to pieces instead with a lump in your throat.

Joel takes a few more shots, then asks, “wanna see?”

He scoots over and you swallow your emotions. You get on your stomach next to him. When you peer through the sight, you can see right through the trailer to the next one where he’s shot a large hole in the middle of an X. “wow,” you marvel. “all the way through?”

“yep”

“you’re really good at that.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Wouldn’t keep ya if I wasn’t. Someone’s gotta keep ya safe, sweet pea.”

You nod and give a small smile.At this point, you’re still unsure where you’re better off.

You get out of his way. He takes a couple more shots while you pensively look for four-leaf clovers.

There’s nothing waiting for you back home, but sometimes, the way Joel plucked you out of your life doesn’t sit right. You didn't get to choose.

—------

Joel lets you watch him most days when he does target practice, and one day he asks if you wanna try.

"Look, uh, you don't need to be usin' a gun like this okay?"

"yeah, I know."

"but if ya wanna try it, right here with me. . .I can show ya."

"really?" He showed you his pistol before but didn't offer you could shoot it.

Joel nods for you to come over. You've shot a pistol before, in your old life, but never a long gun. You lay on your stomach, trying to emulate his stance. He moves your legs into position for you and you can feel the air on your inner thighs as your dress bunches up near your hip on your right side.

Joel cages you to the ground with his body, laying his chest flat against your back. He puts your hands on the gun and keeps his hands over yours. “You’re gonna wanna look right here.” He points at the sight then returns the hand to yours. “And hold the gun real steady. It’s gonna jump back at ya.”

“Okay.”

“Ready? I'll squeeze it the first time”

“Yeah.”

He squeezes the trigger and his arm muscles flex against you as he fires. It goes straight through the hole to the x. With Joel holding it steady, it doesn't jump back. The next time, he lets you pull the trigger while he holds the gun steady. When he shifts his weight in between shots, you can feel him getting hard. Each time, he puts less and less of his strength into it until he thinks you’re ready to do it on your own. He gets up off you and watches.

You line up the shot and take it. The recoil startles you even though you knew it was coming. The bullet pings a blank spot on the trailer next to the stick figure’s neck. You’re disappointed but Joel says “Good girl, look at that.”

-------

He takes the gun from you and puts it aside. Then he cages you to the ground again. He lowers his hips and you feel the shape of his stiff cock through his thin jeans. “my gun looks good on ya,” he murmurs.

You’re still up on your elbows. He put his weight on one of his forearms and reaches his other hand under your arm to cup your breast. He rolls his hips into you and gropes you. You’re getting wet. He does it once more, and you sigh.

"Not here," he says. "too exposed."

He begins to push himself off, and you feel the cool air against your damp panties as he sits back on his knees between your legs. He mutters, “fuck" and defies himself by reaching between your legs. He slips a finger under the cotton and when he feels how wet you are, he inhales sharply then mumbles, “gotta be quick.” When you hear his zipper, a wave of arousal hits you.

He hovers over you resting on his forearm again. "relax, sweet pea." You put your arms down and rest your head on top of them. "want it here, right?" He presses on the damp spot.

"Yeah"

He pushes your panties to the side and nudges his tip into place. You're wet but not quite wet enough. He spits on his hand and adds saliva to his tip before returning it between your legs.

He lines himself up and shoves into you, his girth splitting you in two. Your body rushes to catch up but he doesn't allow much time to adjust. He slowly brings his cock back, then slams in with a grunt. Then he goes at a jackhammer pace, breathing vocally and railing into you until he moans "ohh, ah–" and slows his hips.

He plunges to the hilt and sighs in relief as he fills you with his cum. You whimper on the edge, almost there yourself, but you don't know how he'll react if you touch yourself, so you don't.

------

Maybe you'll have a moment to yourself later. Or maybe--you catch yourself wondering--maybe, he'll fuck you later and take his time. You shame yourself for the thought.

There's no mistaking what your body wants. It's always wanted him, but there's something that scares you now. You're beginning to fear it's not just your body anymore.

-----

Thank you for reading

Next would be Failed Escape

maybe this was all for the last line idk I love double meanings:

she's afraid it's not just physical anymore

she's afraid her body belongs to him too

#joel miller x reader #dark!joel miller #tw dubcon #cw dubcon #joel miller smut #toxicanonymity ☠️

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the-kr8tor · 10 months

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Snow and Piercings

Pairing: Hobie Brown x GN Reader/ Spider-punk x GN reader.

Word count: 1.8k

Tags: established relationship, No use of Y/N, no specific physical description, fluff, tw needles, smut only implied. SFW

Synopsis: Snowed in, Hobie's bored out of his mind, he suggests to pierce your ears.

* I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms*

Getting snowed in when you were a kid was the best- no school, watching cartoons the whole day, and drinking hot cocoa. Now being an adult and getting snowed in isn't as fun as when you were younger. Work was canceled due to the extreme weather, so you and Hobie use the time to catch up on chores around the flat, again not that fun. Well at least you don't have to go to work, and best of all there's no crime happening in the city, therefore you have Hobie all to yourself.

The only downside to having Hobie at home all day is that he's an absolute menace. With no crime being reported, Hobie's bored out of his damn mind, without him spider-manning around the city, he has all this pent up energy that he currently has no outlet for. He tries to use up all his pent up energy by trying to make chores fun- he throws the laundry across the room towards the washing machine like a basketball, all the laundry goes in the machine without challenge, with his enhanced senses it quickly becomes boring.

You suggested that he crawl up the ceiling with a broom to clean the cobwebs. But it ended up making more of a mess, you underestimated how dirty the ceiling was with dust bunnies floating down on your head like snow. You both ended up vacuuming the entire place twice.

Finally, with the flat all clean and the laundry all folded, and a quick shower. The both of you can finally relax and enjoy your day off.

You were finishing up making hot cocoa for the both of you, when Hobie suggested that he pierce your ears, your left helix specifically.

Hobie Hugs your middle as you pour hot cocoa in both your cups. The air sickenly sweet from the chocolate drink. A smile spreads across your face when Hobie lovingly rubs his face on your back.

"C'mon lovey, I'll be gentle." He pleads, he's being incredibly sweet, he thinks if he butters you up and gives you enough hugs you'll eventually say yes. He's right, though you wouldn't admit it to him.

"Babe, you're just bored. Why don't you fiddle with your guitar for a bit" you say as you hand him his mug of hot chocolate. You turn your back at him to grab something from the cupboard.

"Fiddle?" He sounds offended "First of all I don't 'fiddle' with my guitar, and second of all-" his drink sloshes to the side while he animatedly makes finger quotes when he says fiddle.

He pauses as he notices his mug without marshmallows. "Love, you forgot my mallows" he stretches his mug to show you.

You plop the aforementioned marshmallows in his mug. "No I didn't, and again you're just bored, we'll find something to do eventually" You head to the living room, Hobie following right behind you.

You turned towards him "We could watch a movie, or something to get your heart pumping perhaps?" You wink at him, while sipping from your mug.

"I'll take you up on that offer" Hobie chuckles at your implication.

Hobie grabs your waist with his free hand pulling you towards him. Your heart immediately racing at his reaction, you're sure he could hear it with his enhanced hearing.

Hobie closes the distance between the two of you, his lips ghosting over yours. You hold your free hand to his neck leading him towards you but he doesn't budge. You close your eyes and wait for the kiss but it doesn't come, you open one eye to see what's the hold up. Hobie pulls away from you while chuckling into his mug.

"You're awful" you feign annoyance, but your smile gives it away. You throw a couch pillow at him, he dodges it smoothly. Right, spidey sense you forgot for a second.

Hobie smirks at you through his mug.

You fake an annoyed sigh "If I say yes, will you stop being a menace?" You make it sound like you finally got annoyed by his antics by letting him win. But you actually wanted to get your helix pierced for a while now, you're just terrified of the pain, and for the aftercare? You're definitely gonna forget to clean it. But now with Hobie offering to pierce it himself, you now have an excuse to get it. And with a little charm on the side, Hobie will definitely help you clean it.

Knowing that Hobie will be the one piercing, you know you'll be taken care of during and after the procedure.

"No promises" He puts his mug down on a nearby table. "Stay there" he points at you as he speed walks to your bedroom to grab his kit.

You bring the mug to your lips to drink, but get startled when Hobie appears back in the living room, clutching the kit in one hand, "you can't change your mind!" he excitedly raises his voice. You can't blame him for his excitement, since there's not much happening today, you're just glad he finally gets some of that pent up energy out.

You watch him move all over the flat while sipping your drink. He goes to the kitchen opening the top cupboard with his web, he sticks to the wall on the side and crawls up to grab a box of gloves. He then shoots his webs at another cupboard at the end and yanks it back to open the cabinet, Hobie then crawls all over the newly cleaned ceiling to get to it, he grabs a roll plastic sheet from within. You watch him in awe, you'll never get used to seeing him using his powers.

Now carrying the supplies, He backflips back down. "Show off" you tease, but he's too excited to notice, he's practically vibrating with excitement. You grin at his state. You're curious as to why he's so excited, since he's pierced people before. Maybe because this is the first time he's piercing you?

Hobie lays out the plastic sheet over the dining chair and table, he opens his kit which he then lays them out on the table. He heads to the kitchen to wash his hands thoroughly. Once finished, Hobie holds his hands up with his palms facing him, like he's a surgeon preparing for his next surgery. He heads back to the table and puts on a pair of latex gloves.

"You look so punk right now" You ogle at the rare sight.

Hobie is standing next to a plastic draped chair with his hands still in that weird surgeon position, the only thing to complete his look is if he's wearing a medical mask.

"Well, piercing safely is very punk, sit down, lovey" he gestures at the chair. Hobie looks so smug, thinking he's won you over.

"I don't remember all of this plastic when you were piercing Ned" you sit down, the plastic crinkle as you settle down.

"It's Ned, he can handle it"

"So youre saying I can't handle it?"

"No, it's because you're not Ned" I love you more, and because it's you, He meant to say, you look at him lovingly which means you know exactly what he truly meant. He stares down at you full of adoration in his eyes, he grabs the side of your head to move some hair out of your face.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks tentatively. His voice is soft and without any teasing behind it.

"It's you Hobie, I Trust you" you hook your finger into his belt loop to steady the tremors of your hands. But knowing it's Hobie, eases some anxiety.

Hobie gives you one of his signature smirks. He then grabs a cotton ball dipped in alcohol to clean the area where your new piercing will go. You shiver at the cold liquid hitting your ear.

"It's just the alcohol, sweets" he reassures you.

"I know, just the anticipation is killing me" you're still holding onto his belt loop.

"Keep talking to me, it'll be over before you know it" he grabs your chin and lifts it to give you a chaste kiss on the lips. "For courage" he says with a wink.

You get distracted by the kiss and miss it when he grabs the needle from the table.

"That's it, love. Keep looking at my face" he readies the needle in its position.

"Why are you wearing jeans at home?" You ask distracting yourself from the big ass needle near your ear.

"Gotta be ready to move whenever needed, and besides I see how you look at my ass while wearing it" you see him wink in your peripheral vision. You roll your eyes at the comment, if you weren't so nervous you would've quipped back.

"Now, inhale" Hobie instructs and you follow. He pushes the needle in carefully, you grimace from the pressure. You feel him quickly put on a new stud earring to replace the needle. "Exhale" he finally says.

You let out a puff of air, you finally feel the throbbing pain from your ear. He grabs some cotton balls and cleans you up. Your eyes water from the pain. A lone tear slides down your cheeks. He crouches down to level with you.

"You did good, definitely better than Ned" he rubs your arms to comfort you. You laugh at his comment.

"Here, look" Hobie brings a hand mirror in front of you. He bites his lip in anticipation of your reaction.

You turn to the side to see it properly, you gasp at the simple red stud earring, the same shade of red as his Spider-Man suit. The gem gleaming in the late afternoon sun.

"Hobie" you say softly, heart eyes staring at him.

"Bought it at a small piercing place, while doing my patrol 'round the city. For the record I didn't steal it, I would never do that to a small business" Hobie explains. "Saw it, reminded me of you, so I got it, could only afford one though" he rambles on.

You grab his face with a little force that makes your lips crash with each other, you cringe internally, but he smiles at your eagerness.

You kiss him properly this time. Hobie holds the back of your head, carefully avoiding your newly pierced ear, the kiss full of love and affection for each other. Hobie pulls away for a second to look at your kiss-bitten lips, he gives your lips a good peck before fully pulling away.

"I love it, and I love you" You cradle his face with both hands, Hobie lays his forehead on yours, his way of saying it back, as he holds your elbows, he moves his thumb in a circular pattern against your skin.

"Still hurts like a bitch though" You sniffle from the tears of pain mixed with joy.

Hobie laughs "I'll take care of it, and you" He cradles the side of your neck and kisses you softly.

The afternoon sun mixed with the pattern on your frosted windows bathes your figures in heavenly light. You both look at each other savoring the moment.

A/n: I have no idea how to pierce ears, I'm only basing this on my own experience lol. Hope you enjoyed it! Comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

#hobie brown x reader #spider punk #spider punk x reader #atsv fanfiction #established relationship #hobie brown #hobie brown x gn!reader #spider man across the spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse #x reader #spider punk x gn! reader #tw needles #tw piercings #fanfic

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burningvelvet · 6 months

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more rambling thoughts about wuthering heights now that i've finished my re-read

1 wuthering heights is basically the looney tunes if the looney tunes were goth. 90% of the novel is people arguing, dying, and running around threatening to kill each other, and often all three of those at once.

2 love how it's filled with dark humor. "he's such a cobweb, a pinch would annihilate him" is such a camp thing to say about the terminally ill child you abhor and who you spend weeks trying to set up on dates with your dead lover's child so you can steal her property when your son finally dies. heathcliff lecturing his son on Seduction 101 right in front of cathy 2.0, trying ridiculously to play cupid and compel them to fall in love with each other before giving up and just kidnapping her instead... surely he's the most insane brontë man?

3 i can't remember what i had for dinner last night but nelly dean can remember what the weather was like on any given friday twenty years ago (love her and her snarky comments)

4 love how after nelly finishes telling the story to lockwood she's like "any way. so you know cathy 2.0 is single right ;)))" and then cathy 2.0 shows zero interest in him. so then he's like "oh i just remembered i have somewhere to be :/" then fucks off to london for nearly a year then when he comes back nelly is like "nvm as it turns out cathy and hareton are actually soulmates lol who knew! gee, it's a good thing she didn't like you!" and he's just silently suffering. emily was just fucking around here. hindley was the only linton/earnshaw/heathcliff who was wild enough to marry someone who didn't share either his gene pool or his neighborhood.

5 i imagine joseph to look like smeagol from the lotr films but taller

6 [heathcliff, after stabbing his alcoholic arch nemesis and then pushing his servant into the puddle of the blood] "Wash that stuff away; and mind the sparks of your candle—it is more than half brandy!” LMAO

7 this opinion list is just turning out to be a list of the most insane heathcliff moments but truly the novel should've just been called "heathcliff"

8 heathcliff's weird paternal feelings for hareton, saving hareton's life, him saying he would truly love him if only he wasn't hindley's child, basically giving hareton his blessing to love cathy 2.0 toward the end... so oddly endearing

9 heathcliff walking out just before the "i am heathcliff" part of her speech. why WHY

10 hindley protecting isabella from heathcliff before she flees was nice and i wish we saw more of their dynamic around the heights. honestly aside from the child neglect (which is par for the course in wuthering heights) hindley is a pretty sympathetic character; his rivalry with heathcliff was fueled by both sides and truly the fault of their father for pitting them against each other by letting heathcliff usurp hindley's place of favoritism as a boy. hindley's gambling and drinking, his general dissipation and failure to secure his son's future, are all tragic.

11 i think hindley/edgar/heathcliff are all interesting foils for each other; they each lose the women they love and are left to be single fathers, and each responds to the task totally differently. if we include mr. earnshaw, all the fathers in the story essentially fail their children after all the mothers die. hindley and heathcliff have a special parallel through their lifelong brotherly competition, the women they love both dying in childbirth, and in their own deaths. hindley slowly kills himself while ignoring everyone around him; heathcliff also kills himself, but only after trying to systematically ruin the lives of everyone around him. they also say that they want to kill each other but fail when they try; heathcliff nearly kills hindley but ends up saving his life at the last minute.

12 heathcliff jr. is so terrified of heathcliff sr. and so traumatized and petrified by fear and he doesn't deserve the hate he gets for being annoying. he's been sheltered his whole life, his mother just died, he was sent to his uncle/cousin only to be immediately torn away from them to be abused by a stranger who treats him horribly, he's terminally ill, he's still a kid, he's threatened into marrying someone he barely knows, etc.

13 if any of you have seen the british comedy show "the young ones" that's literally hindley's household in wuthering heights when joseph/hareton/hindley/heathcliff/isabella all live together. the filth, the slop for dinner, the petty games, the violence, the fierce hatred yet weird loyalty to each other, etc.

14 i really wonder how cathy would have reacted to heathcliff's treatment of everyone else if only she had known the full details (ie his harsh abuse of isabella, his son, cathy 2.0, etc.)

15 heights was my first brontë novel but i think i like jane eyre and tenant better now that i've read them all back to back! next on the list is likely agnes gray. anne, my underrated queen!

#literature #english literature #wuthering heights #emily brontë #book opinions #bookblr #bronte sisters #heathcliff #books #book thoughts #book review #classic literature #lit #litblr

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igotanidea · 5 months

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Blocked: Dick Grayson x game streamer!reader

He's so clueless and concerned in this photo it just fits the whole plotline :D

***

„DAMMIT!” her sudden yelling coming from the game room got him on his feet, running inside immediately, in search for any possible threat to her life or health.

„What is going-?” Dick stopped in the middle of the sentence, his gaze focusing on her perked up ass in those devilishly tight jeans. The view he couldn’t stop himself from indulging in for a moment, even if it was as nice as it was confusing. „Babe, what are you-?”

„Damn the stupid Internet connection!” she yelled, flexing and twisting around her gaming computer, playing with some cables and plugs, desperately trying to fix whatever was broken and failing spectacularly. „I was supposed to post a new stream today! I was supposed to do a live! Screw that! Dammit! Why is it always happening to me!?”

„Y/N. Love--”

„Agh!” she groaned in frustration and just to make sure he was not going to be hit with something she might throw his way, Dick took a step back raising hands in surrender

„Princess why don;t you calm down for a moment and --”

„Calm down?!” she snapped ,twisting head his direction, fury in her eyes, blush of anger on her cheeks „How am I supposed to calm down. Redlotus95 is hot on my heels!”

„Red Lotus....?”

„I can’t drop on second place Dick. I’m serious! I’m not giving this little piece of shit the satisfaction of stealing my fans!”

„I think you take it a little bit too far, baby. It was supposed to be fun and relax, remember. What happened to taking things casually? Why the bloodlust?”

„Screw having fun. I am quite literally at war now Dick!”

„when did you became so competitive?”he frowned at her, taking a step forward and peeling the cobweb from her face. Clearly her head office needed cleaning.

„Since I was called a petty girl doing a in a men field!” she cried out, becoming exasperated in a second.

‘I’m sorry, what?” Dick blinked once, shocked by her words. Who in their sound mind, would ever dare to call his beautiful, wonderful and killer girlfriend such words. „gimme a name, Y/n.” he hissed, clenching his fist.

„Dick.”

„A name, love.”

„Can I please see Dick Grayson again?” she rubbed her forehead, the sudden change in his demeanor, his I-will-avenge-her-name eyes included, giving her extremely clear sign of which part of him, she was currently speaking to.

„What do you --? Oh, oh, okay, i get it. But babe, I don’t need to be Nightwing to punch whoever call you that name. I can still do it in my civilian version. I mean, have you seen my muscles?” he grinned, flexing his biceps. „Hands down I can beat anyone.”

„As sweet and chivalry as that is, I don’t need you defending my honour or whatever” she rolled her eyes, equally amused and annoyed. „I can do it myself but I freaking need a stable internet connection and new hardware! I can;t possibly work with this shit!” she had to gather all the strength she had to not kick the device.

„Y/N....” Dick grinned at her, showing literally all of his teeth.

„What--?!”

***

Computer store.

That was the what.

And damn, let’s just say that were advantages to dating a billionaire’s son, cause she definitely didn’t have to cut on the expenditure.

***

„How does that even work!?”

„Could you be quiet for a moment!”

„ But I don’t know how to use that! What do I do?! Y/N!! What do I do!?”

„You just sit here quietly and look pretty!”

„Oh, that I can do--”

„God!” she groaned, even though deep, deep down inside she was laughing at his beginner attitude. „Hey everyone” she turned to speak to her followers active online waiting for her live stream. Sorry for the little shouting and screaming. That’s what you get when your charming boyfriend try to get involve in your hobby” she chuckled a little.

The comments started appearing a moment after she explained the little commotion and Dick almost jumped on his chair, rushing to read them all.

„Oh, look Y/N! They say hi to me!”

„Mhm.. sure they do.”

„They can hear me now, right? I can tell them hi too?”

„you know I’m starting to question if you were really raised by Bruce Wayne, the CEO of the most advanced technology company in the country...’

„Hey that’s mean!” Dick huffed, his eyes still scanning the comments carefully, almost as if he was watching a villain during his patrol. „but I guess your followers think it’s cute. Oh!” he gasped and smiled wickedly upon noticing one particular message. „Been-there-done-that is asking if you can post a picture of me. Sure she can, I’ll be more than happy to show you my face and --”

She cleared her throat in a very suggestive manner.

„Sorry...” he send her that flashing smile again and turned back to computer as if keeping his eyes on the screen made the attenders hear him better. „Ok guys, listen up, before we start the -- um--?”

„Streaming session.” she gave him a prompt.

„Yeah, right, streaming session, I got one important message for you all--”

„Oh, no, Richard, don’t--!”

„Fuck you RedLotus95 for talking shit about my girlfriend!”

Youtube blocked her for two weeks.

She blocked Dick for ever attending her live sessions forever.

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #dick grayson x y/n #nightwing x y/n #dick grayson fluff #nightwing fluff

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bakugotrashpanda · 6 months

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Bakugou x F!Reader, Demon!Dabi x F!Reader Word Count: 3.4k

!!: sex, noncon, virginity, fingering, oral, spanking, ‘good girl’

A/N: And to round out kinktober 2023, something more than 100 words

Is there a word for bad miracles?

Stairs creak under your feet. A small gust of wind swirls around you and makes every hair on your body stand on end. Your boyfriend shines his flashlight around the dark foyer, highlighting the furniture covered with musty tarps. Whoever lived out here clearly thought they were coming back… until they didn’t.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, “Why did we have to come out here?”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid now,” Bakugou scoffs.

You watch the flashlight beam sweep across a corner laced with cobwebs. “It’s… creepy.”

“Come on,” he says and keeps climbing the staircase. “I got a surprise for you upstairs.”

“I swear to god if you’re trying to scare me.”

From the top of the stairs, the flashlight turns on you and illuminates your face. “Remember when we first started dating? Your profile said you liked adventure.”

“Yeah,” you cross your arms over your chest. “Hiking and shit, not abandoned houses.”

“C’mon, you’ll like it. I promise.” He walks down the hall, and when an eerie feeling settles over you from being alone, you run up the last couple steps to catch up to him.

Bakugou turns a door knob. You brace yourself for one of his friends to pop out from behind and scare the shit out of you. He walks in, and you take a hesitant step forward. Warm, soft lights come on.

Peering in, you let out a soft ‘oh’ before relaxing. In the middle of the room is a neatly made bed covered in rose petals. You recognize the plush comforter from Bakugou’s closet back at his apartment. The man in question walks around the room lighting white votive candles – some in equally small, carved pumpkins and others in glass holders.

“Not so scary now, is it?”

“Katsuki,” a blush crawls up your cheeks. “Did you do all this?”

“Well I sure as shit didn’t let anyone else do it.” He lights the last candle before walking over to you and wrapping his arms around you.

“Why not a hotel or something?” you blurt out.

“Really?” he raises an eyebrow. “You’re going to nag about where I chose to go?”

“It’s just that it’s so romantic and everything else about the house is… not.”

“Our anniversary is Halloween. I’m sticking with the fucking theme.”

“We could’ve gone to an amusement park-” you start to protest.

Bakugou’s brows furrow together. “Why’re you stalling?”

“What?”

“You’re stalling.”

“I-”

“Damn it,” Bakugou runs a hand through his hair. “Kirishima was right, this was stupid. You hate it.”

“Katsuki, I don’t hate it, but there’s a bed in the middle of the room! And you know I’m saving myself for…” Your voice trails off. Saying it outloud, here, in the abandoned house, makes it seem so childish.

Bakugou’s rough thumb strokes your cheek. “I know you’re saving yourself for marriage. Which is why-” he slowly sinks down to his knee and pulls out a small velvet box. “-I was hoping you would say yes to marrying me.”

“Oh my god!” You slap a hand over your mouth. Through the tears welling up in your eyes, you can barely make out Bakugou’s hopeful expression as he waits with bated breath for your answer. Nodding, you hold out your left hand and let him slide the ring on with shaky fingers. “Yes, oh god, yes!”

You pull Bakugou to his feet and stare at the ring, a new comfortable weight on your finger. “I’m still waiting until we’re married,” you choke out as he wipes away the tears.”

“Don’t remind me,” he groans and pulls you close. “But there’s other things we can do here.” His lips press against yours. You relax into it, your body softening against his.

It starts as a distant rumble, something you could pass off as a car in the distance. But when the lights start to flicker and the house shakes, you and Bakugou break apart. An earthquake? Right now? Bakugou grabs your hand and mutters something about needing to leave before the place falls in on itself.

Black smoke swirls from floor to ceiling in front of the two of you and all the air in the room is sucked in by the vortex. Bakugou’s arm stiffens under your vice like grip. When the smoke falls away, a man with jet black hair stands where the vortex was. Scarred skin covers a majority of his arms and upper part of his torso, but what stands out against that are his unsettling turquoise eyes that seem to glow from within.

“Mortals,” a gravelly voice snarls, “You dare to disturb my resting place?”

The more you stare, the less… human the man seems – if you can even call him a human. His ears, pierced with silver, are elongated and pointed, almost like one of the aliens from a sci-fi show Bakugou had you watch. And is it your imagination, or are there puffs of smoke escaping his body where scarred and unscarred skin meet?

But the cherry on top, the features that make all the alarm bells ring in your head, are a pair of white horns standing out against his dark hair.

“Back the fuck off.” Bakugou puts his arm out protectively in front of you — as if that would protect you from whatever the fuck this thing is.

“And what are you going to do about it?” the man sneers. With a flick of his clawed fingers, Bakugou flies away from you and slams into the wall. Hands splayed, he scrabbles to find purchase as he slides upwards.

“Let him go!” you scream, “Please! Let-”

As you take a step forward, Bakugou coughs, his words strained. “Get outta here.”

“Katsuki, no, I can’t leave you here!”

“Get. Help.” That jumpstarts something in your brain. Help. Right. Help. You don’t even get one step when the door slams closed. You freeze like a deer in headlights. The demon – you decide this as your mind catches up with the last thirty seconds, it’s the only thing that makes sense – turns his attention to you. He raises his other hand and you brace yourself to fly against the wall like Bakugou had.

“Hell, what is that scent. I haven’t smelled this since…” He trails off. Inhaling deeply, his eyes burn bright, an ethereal blue you can’t stop staring at. “A virgin.”

Bakugou lashes against his invisible restraints, but you remain rooted to the spot.

A virgin.

“You. You’re my ticket out of this shithole.” He stalks around the room. Turquoise eyes glow with excitement and rove up and down your body. “A virgin sacrifice will get me out of here.”

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.” Kill you? Where are these words coming from? You don’t want to fucking die here! You certainly can’t fight this thing. Now is not the time to find false confidence.

“Kill you?” His sharp laugh grates your skin like broken glass. “Why would I kill you when I could have my way with you?”

Blood drains from your face, leaving you lightheaded. “Have your way with me?”

“I intend to take your virginity, babe,” he smirks, “I’m outta here if I fuck you.”

“Fuck me?”

“Beelzebub below, are you dating a parrot or a woman?” the demon laughs at Bakugou. Turning to face you, all humor leaves the demon’s face. He makes a zipping motion with his fingers. “If all you’re gonna do is repeat what I say, then I don’t want to hear a single sound come out of you.”

Maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s demonic power, but one way or another you’re paralyzed as the demon walks over to you. He drags one of his claws down your cheek and hooks it at the top of your shirt. Acrid smoke fills the air as his finger cuts away your clothes. Your shirt and bra — a black lace specially picked out for Bakugou — fall to the floor, leaving your tits exposed to the cool air of the room. Your pants and panties follow suit and you close your eyes as both the demon and Bakugou drink in your naked form.

Sharp nails drag across your skin as he circles you – thankfully painless and leaving no cuts like he did your clothes. The demon’s hand cups one of your breasts as if appraising it before trailing down your stomach and across your ass.

This can’t be happening.

He’s talking, but it’s not to you, and you tune him out.

Please, please. Someone help us.

Bakugou struggles against the wall and the demon cackles before slinging more taunts.

If there is a god out there, please help me.

The demon’s hand smacks your ass with a satisfying smack. Silent tears roll down your cheek.

No one will come and save you.

Your head is viciously jerked to the side and you can make out the demon’s face inches from your own through your tearstained vision.

“I said,” he says softly, “Let’s give your precious boyfriend a show.” His hand slithers down your stomach and parts your folds. You shudder against his touch.

No. No, no, no, no.

His fingers graze your clit, sending a bolt of electricity to your core. Bile rises in your throat.

Please god no. Don’t let him touch me. This is humiliating enough.

There’s a chuckle in your ear. The demon presses a finger against your entrance and slowly eases in. Your mouth opens in a silent sob. He teases you, strokes your walls with a ‘come hither’ motion.

You hate that you can feel him writhing around inside you. You hate that he’s gone farther than Bakugou ever had. But most of all, you hate that you can feel yourself loosening up for him; getting wetter for him.

A second finger slides in. Bakugou glares at the demon but doesn’t look away. Can he not look away? Is he stuck watching you get fucked against your will?

A forked tongue wraps around the demon's fingers when he drags them out of you and holds them up for Bakugou to see – clear strings of arousal lapped up.

“Have you even tasted her?” he taunts, “She’s divine.” Bakugou’s gaze flits from you to the demon, his cheeks turning beet red. There’s no retort from him.

With a wave of the demon’s hand, the bed in the middle of the room slides closer to Bakugou. The demon takes your hand and leads you over.

A front row seat to your first time. Rose petals flutter around you as you bounce onto the bed. The bed Katsuki prepared. Your legs are knocked apart, and you watch in silent horror as the demon strokes his cock mere inches from you.

“Watch, mortal, as I take your girlfriend’s fucking virginity.” His glowing eyes turn back to you. The head of his cock presses against your entrance. You don’t want this. You were saving yourself for the man you planned on marrying. You were saving yourself for Katsuki. And now he has to watch this.

You should be embarrassed.

You should feel shame.

You should feel anything except… needy arousal.

You can’t even look away as he pushes in. Your voice may be gone, but you inhale sharply as his cock splits you open. It’s not what you thought it would be. There’s no pain, no uncomfortable tearing sensation; just a stretching that leaves you dazed and overwhelmed.

“Fuck,” the demon hisses, “I forgot how good virgins are.” Large hands wrap around your waist and pull you further down on his cock. You bite your lower lip. Maybe the pain can distract you from how your blood is roaring inside you.

It’s not until he’s buried all the way inside you that his eyes flash a brilliant blue. He holds you against him, his mouth slightly agape. His whisper barely reaches your ears. You wouldn’t have known he was talking if you weren’t watching his mouth move.

“I’m free.”

You lay on your back unmoving. If he’s free then he could leave. He could walk out of the house and leave you and Bakugou alone. This nightmare could end.

“You fucked her, now let her go!” Bakugou’s shout causes the demon’s blissful peace to crumple into a snarl.

“Your pretty lady set me free, the least I can do is give her a good fuck to remember me by,” he smirks. His hands slide up the back of your legs and hook under your knees. Pushing them towards your chest, he leans in, somehow pressing deeper into you. Your breath hitches and your mouth falls open.

Shit.

If you had your voice, you know a needy moan would’ve filled the room.

All that leaves your mouth though is a sharp exhale. But he knows. He heard. You close your eyes to school your features. The moment you open them, his eyes, blazing with desire, are locked on yours.

He knows.

There’s an intimacy that brings a blush to your face as he fucks you slowly, his eyes still holding your gaze. Neither of you can look away. His cock kisses your cervix and when you think it can’t get any better, he shifts slightly, changing the angle. The demon leans in, his tongue licking a stripe up the column of your neck

“You taste so good, babe. I can taste your fucking arousal. If I give you back your voice, will you be a good girl for me?” His teeth graze your skin, sending shivers down your skin. You nod, slowly at first – like the way the demon thrusts into you – then more emphatically as he speeds up.

“I want you screaming my name,” he murmurs in your ear, “I want to hear you screaming for Dabi.” His lips lock on yours, his tongue pressing against your lips. You can’t even pretend to put up a fight; you spread your lips and meet his tongue in the middle.

A trail of spit connects his mouth to yours when he pulls back.

“Say my name.”

“Dabi,” you croon with a worn out voice. You’re rewarded with the entire length of his dick pulling out and pushing back into you.

“Again.”

You say his name louder.

Each iteration louder than the last is rewarded with a torturously slow thrust.

But you need more. You squirm beneath him, angling your hips, anything to entice him to fuck faster. And the fucker has the audacity to slow down.

“C’mere, Princess.” Dabi wraps his arms around you, pulling you close and rolls the two of you over. “I want to see these lovely tits of yours bouncing.” You arch your back as his claws trail down your back and settle at your waist. He lifts you up and down his cock, helping you get a rhythm before you take over.

The pressure building in your core has you bouncing frantically on him – you’d felt it before when you used toys and your fingers to bring yourself pleasure, but this is something more. Something toe curling. Something that has you digging your fingers into his forearms. His dick is able to hit the right places you could never get, barely satiating a newfound need deep within you.

“Hold on, Princess,” Dabi groans and effortlessly holds you above him, the tip of his cock barely inside you. You whimper at the loss of contact and try to fight his grip. “I want this to last as long as possible, so take a seat up here.”

Apparently your dumbfounded expression is hilarious since he starts laughing.

“Up here, babe.” His tongue flicks out between a scarred bottom lip and an unscarred upper lip. When you still look unsure, he hauls you up and settles your legs on either side of his face. He trails kisses up your inner thigh, each one inching closer to your core.

“Don’t worry, babe, I won’t break.”

He locks your legs against his face and you have no choice but to seat yourself against his mouth.

He has you gasping the moment his tongue flicks out. Your hands run through his hair as he laps at you, each stroke adding to your overwhelming passion. Grabbing onto hair and horn – really whatever is within your grasp, you pull yourself against him and spread your legs further.

A chorus of ‘please’ and ‘more’ fall from your lips like a desperate prayer as Dabi’s tongue swirls around your sensitive nerves.

It’s not until you lean back so his tongue can delve inside you that you feel guilt. Crimson eyes locked onto you in disbelief silences your intoxicated begging. He might as well have poured ice water over you.

You forgot about him.

You forgot your fiance was pinned to the wall, watching you enjoy a demon’s cock.

Every moment, every sound forever etched into his mind as you stopped fighting and gave in to temptation.

A sharp nip on your inner thigh brings you back to Dabi. You tear your gaze away and pull back to see the forked tongue you were enjoying so much laving the pinpricks left from his teeth.

“As much as I want you to come on my tongue, I’d rather have you creaming on my cock.”

He rolls you off his face and onto your back.

Obediently, you spread your legs, one hand creeping down to continue where he left off. The buzz running throughout your body increases with every enticing swirl of your fingers around your clit.

“I want to come, Dabi,” you mewl.

He laughs, the sound no longer shards of glass against your skin. “How can I refuse since you asked so nicely.”

He sinks inside you with a single stroke and you wrap your legs around his hips. Dabi’s fingers swat your hand away before taking over, his hand possessively splayed over your mound as his thumb works on your clit. Your hands twist in the comforter and rose petals as you drown in impending pleasure.

“Who does this cunt belong to?” Dabi growls.

“You,” you whisper.

Correct, but not enough. There’s no rewarding thrust of his dick.

“Who?” He raises an eyebrow. You know what he wants. You’re teetering on the precipice of orgasm, and every second he’s not fucking you, the feeling slips ever so slightly.

“You, Dabi!” You clench around him, desperate to keep your high. A clawed hand digs into your waist slightly and pulls you flush against him.

“Who’s the only one you’re going to fuck?” he hisses, turquoise eyes narrowing.

“You, Dabi!” you wail, the electric feeling building up, almost uncontainable. “I belong to you!”

“Good girl,” he growls and fucks into you again, “Come for me.” His words – his permission – wash over you and release the pent up feeling. Your orgasm rips through you, an intensity you’ve never felt before. No toy or even your own fingers could compare – would compare ever again.

Dabi’s hips smack against your own once, twice more before pressing flush against you. Heat pools in your lower abdomen and you can feel his cock twitching inside you. A part of you wonders if sex is always like this, but an even smaller part of you knows that it’ll only be this good when you’re with Dabi.

He untangles from you and leans over, panting slightly. He presses a surprisingly chaste kiss to your cheek before his lips ghost over your skin to your ear.

“Left you a parting gift, Princess,” he purrs, “If you ever want to see me again, just look in a mirror and say my name three times.”

The bedroom door flies open and Dabi looks your blissed out form over one last time before walking out.

When the front door slams closed, Bakugou is released and falls to the floor. He rushes to you, his hands clenching and unclenching as he hovers at the edge of the bed. Worry pushes his brows together.

All he can do is watch.

It’s up to you to break the silence.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki,” you pant, “I said I was saving myself for the person I was going to marry.”

One Week Later

You look yourself over in the bathroom mirror, adjusting your light blue bra. Pushing moving boxes out of the way, you nod to yourself encouragingly.

No time like the present.

“Dabi,” you whisper. Your irises flash a brilliant turquoise for a second. Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Dabi.” You swear you can feel his claws ghosting over your skin.

“Dabi.” The lights flicker for a moment before going out completely. The only thing visible in the mirror is the thin blue ring around your irises – until another pair or ethereal blue eyes just over your shoulder joins them. Sharp nails dig into your arms.

A deep voice chuckles in your ear. “Miss me already?”

banner image by /mwrona on unsplash

#kinktober 2023 #dabi x reader #bakugou x reader

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jarofstyles · 7 months

Text

FICTOBER DAY 5- Can I Hold Your Hand?

Here is day 4, a bit of cutie dadrry <3 Enjoy!

FICTOBER Prompt list and Masterlist

Patreon

WC-700+

-------

“Can I hold your hand?” The small voice peeped up at him. Their son in his train conductor costume had been insistent that he was too big to hold his father’s hand, he was a big boy now and he could do trick or treating all by himself.

Y/N pushed the baby carriage, his little sister still a drooly little baby with a plush pumpkin costume on her body and a tiny hat on her head to keep her warm as the october air chilled up. His wife was dressed up in a poodle skirt and letterman jacket, a little tie around her neck and a bouncy ponytail bobbing as she walked. Harry had chosen function this halloween, wearing jeans and a black leather jacket. His saddle shoes were the only thing he purchased for the getup, his hair slicked back in a 50’s like manner- except that one strand that escaped and curled over his head. Y/N had been adamant he not try and fix it, it apparently did something to her.

“Yeah? Not too big to hold my hand now, mate?” He teased, placing his hand down for the smaller one to take. Their gait was slow, their son not the fastest with his Thomas the Tank Engine soft cut out around his body. It made him a big more clumsy, too, which is why Harry was glad Y/N had put knee guards and gloves on him.

“No. I’m am big, but I don’t like all the noises.” He tried to maintain, but the spooky music filtering through the neighborhood and sound effects of the motion sensor activated decor making the poor thing jump. Hell, one of those things had even made Harry clutch his chest as he had approached the front door to ring for candy. What was with these things getting more and more accessible to the public? He remembered the only time he used to see these things were in haunted houses he went to in uni. Now it seemed everyone on the block had a jumpscare waiting to strike. Stupid screaming skeleton.

“It’s okay, baby.” Y/N crooned. “Did you know that on one of our first dates, Daddy took me to see a movie and got so scared he screeched?” It was true, but it was justified. Most of the room had jumped or made a noise too- it just so happened that his had been a bit more loud and high pitched than he would have liked.

Harry looked at her with narrowed eyes, scoffing as his wife grinned like the little shit she was. Really? “Are you ever going to let me live that down? I told you, it was just a bad jump scare. You jumped too.” He looked towards their son, who was giggling simply because Y/N was. “Mumma’s being silly. It’s not a bad thing to scream either, it’s natural.”

“But you’re so big and old, Daddy. You can’t get scared.” He giggled, his fingers squeezing on to Harry’s as they approached another pathway to go up to the house. It was decked out in cobwebs and had some cool orange and purple lighting, spooky sound effects filtering through hidden speakers in the bushes. The howl of a wolf sounded, having him step closer to Harry’s leg. “You go with me?”

“What’s this, then hm? Make fun of me for being scared and then asking me to go?” He ruffled the conductor hat on his head. “You’re lucky I love you loads and Mumma is afraid of the spiders in those webs or I’d made you go with her.” It was all in jest, Y/N simply shrugging. How was she supposed to know what spiders were fake or real? It would be a perfect place for one to hide and jump into her hair!

“It’s okay to be afraid of things, baby. Your father is just silly. Even sillier than me.” Her hand came up to squish Harry’s chin, letting her lipstick give a big kiss mark on his cheek, the bright red in the perfect shape of her lips. When she pulled back, there were loud giggles as the mark was revealed. Harry didn’t mind, clearly, blushing slightly as he knew exactly what she had done, but to their son it was apparently the funniest thing in the world. Y/N shot him a playful glare before threatening him with the same. “Go on, then. Or you’re getting a kiss mark from me too. Grab Mumma a chocolate if there is one.”

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shotmrmiller · 17 days

Note

Seeing the pathetic little bitch König asks have really juiced up my brain a bit.

Pathetic König would most definitely see you on a random ass Sunday morning while you're walking out of a Walmart with a bag full of snacks. Hair? Frizzed and wild. Clothes? You're still in your rumpled up Carebear PJs and your piggy slippers.(This is totally not based off of a lazy Walmart morning for me. Not at all..)

He is instantly hard. Harder than a brick house, in fact. A single look and a triple take is all this pathetic man needs to follow you home and sit on your front step in the pouring rain while pawing at the door with whined out 'bitte's' every other second. All the while, he's had his other hand in his pants the entire time while arching his back and pressing his face against the crack of the door just to get a whiff of your favorite candle burning.

pathetic little bitch konig omfgggg!!! why he gotta be all that!

BITTE!!! NOT THE BITTE!!! he's so pathetic. like you've still got sleep in your eyes and this man is throbbing. this creep won't stop cornering you every second he gets just to say hello because he thinks you didn't see/hear him the other times (blatantly ignoring him and he still can't fucking take a hint)

so you're like time for a game plan: start dressing like you're homeless and it just backfires. all he can think about is how comely you look and it starts putting images in his head of you looking like that in his home (he lives in a tiny shithole with//)

his little flat smells of spilled beer and cigarettes even though he doesn't smoke. the walls are thinner than paper which leads to countless days of late nights and early mornings since the neighbors won't stop procreating (they might be squatters)

there are faded stains on the ceiling, and cobwebs sit in forgotten corners. the walls were ivory when he moved in even though the property manager had said they were white (maybe at some point they were long before he got there)

long story short, it's a rundown place that he hopes he'll see you in one day with your knotted hair, crinkled pajama bottoms, and stained spongebob slippers. just the thought of you sitting on his stiff sofa has his southern blood pumping. also, he thinks your natural scent is best. unshowered, no deodorant, no makeup— just spicy in both scent and attitude.

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dokk-fukuro · 11 months

Text

Bloody Moon [Bram Stoker x f!Reader]

Minors DNI

۞₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪۞

A/N: f!reader, mention of female genitals, smut, mentions of blood, Bram has his body

۞₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪۞

The entire settlement bypasses the old estate, which is only miraculously not called a castle. Various rumors circulate about that place, supposedly its owner is cursed. You used to hear from the locals that the owner of the estate is a servant of the Devil, or is one himself. But you weren't interested in the tales of frightened villagers. You were more interested in the opportunity to gain knowledge of healing in order to help people, and not to pretend.

And that's why you're here, making your way through the overgrown path to the estate late at night. You are not afraid of dry bushes and dead trees that cast evil shadows on the ground under the moonlight, you are not afraid of howling wolves somewhere in the distance. The nature of these lands seemed to have died long ago.

The estate welcomes you with a dead garden. It died a long time ago. Flowers died, if there were shrubs, they either turned into a pile of stabbing dry branches, or were so ugly that you can’t look at them without tears. In the center of this garden there is a large fountain with a decoration in the form of three girls holding jugs. You don’t know how long he hasn’t worked, however, you don’t ask yourself this question. You knock on the door. All this time, you have a strong feeling that you are being watched. Maybe that's how it is?

The heavy oak door opens on its own. At your own risk, you go inside, frantically look around to be sure for sure: you are alone. Most of the furniture is covered with white bedspreads, dust settles on the railings and window frames, in some places you can see cobwebs in the corners. This estate has been abandoned for a long time. Clearly no one has lived here for years. At least it creates that impression. “And why is everyone afraid of it?” You wonder at some point, and strange noises somewhere nearby distract you. As if someone is approaching. Frightened, you pull out a knife, but you hear laughter in response.

“And what do you hope for when you decide to use it against me?” The voice is deep, rough with a clear mockery of you and the whole situation. To a stranger you seem ridiculous in an attempt to protect your life. "Why did you disturb me?"

You look around, slowly moving forward towards the massive staircase leading to the second floor. Fear grips your entire body, causing every nerve ending to tense up. Each muscle is like a spring. The instinct of self-preservation is calling you to run as far as possible from this damned place, but you have come such a long way that you simply cannot return back with nothing. It is the only smoldering flame of courage in your chest. You have a clear goal with which you came to this estate, and you clearly do not intend to deviate from your original plan.

Your attempts in the twilight to find something or someone who addresses you are futile. And this only amuses the one who is watching you from the shadows even more. The way you cling to your life, the way you desperately try to see the source of the voice in the twilight. This someone could watch you for hours.

“But you should probably be commended for your bravery. Ignore the locals' warnings and come here... You're either too brave or too damn stupid. Haven't you been warned about who is the owner of this place?” You swallowed hard. Only one thing reassured you for sure: what you do not see, at least a human voice, is something that thinks, accordingly, not relying solely on animal instincts. With this “something” you can make a deal. After all, can you?

“Don’t you think that when guests come to you, you need to at least go out to them. I'm not talking about how to find out if you need help?” You are ready to almost curse yourself for those words. Who asked you to open your mouth, and even more so to talk back the obvious owner of these places? “There are a lot of conversations about you. What I just did not hear on the way here. even it was said that the devil himself lives here.”

Right behind you, you hear laughter, angry and a little judgmental. Icy hands, like those of a dead man, rest on your shoulders, and all your imaginary courage leaves your body at once, as if by a wave of your hand. The desire to run overcomes its own limits, but your legs do not obey you, you cannot even take a step forward, let alone escape. The owner of the estate is amused by such a reaction.

You slowly turn around, your heart literally swells with fear, pressing on your lungs and making it difficult to breathe fully. Before you stands a man in a black cloak. His pale, almost porcelain skin reflects the moonlight that enters the hall despite the slightly dirty window. The owner of the estate is dressed in a long black cloak, from under which a high standing collar of a white shirt sticks out. His eyes don’t have a vital luster. He carefully study your features, glare into your eyes. And you understand that your miserable life will end in the estate. You’ll not become a doctor in your small town, you’ll not be able to save other people's lives. You'll just die here in the clutches of this creature. However, his impossibly long blond hair grabs your attention.

“More than daylight and noise around, I hate impudent people like you. But your courage amazes me. Tell me, child, what's your wish? Do you really want to spend your whole life learning how to save people? What's the point?” The gaze of the scarlet eyes rushes to the blade of the knife that you hold in your trembling hands. It seems to you that if you were not killed in the first seconds, you were just lucky, or he’s playing with you.

“I was told that there is someone in this estate who can teach me the art of healing. They said that there is an incalculable treasure, an incredible amount of knowledge that will help humanity move forward and not die with a slight cough.” You seemed to be waiting for this question, because the fire of courage in your chest flares up with renewed vigor, driving out fear. You are confident in your aspirations, and now you are definitely not going to leave the intended path. “Please teach me. Share your knowledge. In return, I will do anything for you.”

The desire to learn, to learn something new attracts him. That is why the man's features soften, and he leads you along. The library on his estate was covered in dust. There is not a single book in it that the owner would not read, because they are all boring to him. But seeing genuine admiration and delight in your eyes, it seems that the one who is branded the Devil in the flesh is tingling somewhere deep, between the ribs, where the heart once beat. Years of loneliness in the estate make themselves felt, it is unusual for a man that someone is wandering in his library again, looking at the spines of books with interest, going through the letters with their fingertips, leaving their warmth and smell on them. Oh, you still don't fully understand who you're messing with. However, this thought does not occur to you.

"May I know your name, sir?" In the meantime, you are interested, taking out the book you need, as it seems to you. You’re not even afraid of the sudden appearance of the owner of the estate behind your back, ‘cause you are too keen on studying everything that catches your eye. Botany, medicinal properties of plants, tinctures making, chemistry. So much to learn, read and find out. The man himself does not notice how the smile touches his dry lips. It’s so interesting to watch you fussy, that he even forgets about your impudence in the first minutes of your meeting.

“Count Bram Stoker,” comes the reply. His scarlet eyes do not leave you for a second, while you study every page of the book you have taken with genuine interest. The question flickers in his thoughts: "Is there really such mortals in this world?" If it wasn't for your impudence, Stoker would have thought you were perfect.

A man forbids you to take books with you. Instead, he offers you one of the bedrooms on the second floor. At first, you shyly refuse, believing that it is not worthwhile to embarrass the owner of these places, which leads Bram to complete confusion. Almost from the threshold you showed a lively and impudent disposition, and now it’s like a different person in front of him. And yet you have to agree. Your long and difficult journey to this estate has exhausted you more than you thought.

“However, I should warn you in advance. Don’t go to the neighboring wing, otherwise even I, as the owner of this estate, will not guarantee your survival here.” Sounds ominous, but you agree to the terms with a quick glance at the door that leads to the next wing.

Your guest room is large. You could say that your whole house will fit in it. Carved canopy bed to the ceiling, large wardrobe and chest of drawers next to it, dressing table. On both sides of the bed there are bedside tables and a screen next to the wardrobe. Surprisingly, there is no mirror in the room, and the makeup table, which should have one, only has a frame. The mirror seemed to have been deliberately pulled out of there, or broken. You don't ask too many questions, you just thank Bram for his hospitality. Does the monster live on the estate, as they say?

You start to notice strange things after a while. The landlord often draws the curtains, doesn't eat with you, and only occasionally keeps you company while you chat about everything. You tell him about how things are outside the small town where he lives, what you saw while getting to his place. And Bram was listening to your monologues with interest.

“Mr. Stoker, may I inquire? - You're getting his attention. In the candlelight, his scarlet eyes gleam. They reflect a strange interest in you, not in your stories, not in what you saw, but precisely in your every gesture. It's like Bram is trying to devour you with just a look. It's getting uncomfortable. "Why aren't you joining the meal?"

The man sighs, his parched lips stretching into a strange, wry smile, as if he's trying to hide something from you. It sends chills down your spine. Dislike of daylight, lack of mirrors, strange hissing in his way of speaking. And this is far from the whole list of what you have noticed and continue to notice.

“You shouldn't worry about me. I already dined earlier,” does not sound very convincing, but you do not ask any more questions. In the end, the piercing gaze of blood-red eyes urges you to finish your meal, as if to say: “The food is getting cold.”

Oddity can also be called the complete absence of any servants. There are no butlers or maids on the estate, no cooks or gardeners either. And this is in addition to the door that leads to the neighboring wing. Apparently, it is tightly locked, and for some reason the instinct of self-preservation relentlessly insists that you should not even try to look for the key. However, you are not going to do it anyway.

“Last question, Mr. Stoker. Don't take it as impudence, but I want to ask you: are you married?” And then the devil pulled you to ask this very question. But you're really interested in his marital status. The answer seems obvious, but you can't take back the words. Bram frowns, rises from his seat and begins to pace thoughtfully next to a dusty fireplace, the ashes from which no one has raked out for a long time. Above the fireplace hangs a portrait.

And only looking closer you understand: it depicts the owner of the estate with a young woman. They look happy and in love. It makes you uncomfortable to know that you are most likely making Stoker remember the past, the traumatic past.

“She died three years ago,” the man sighs and looks up at the portrait, as if he has managed to follow your gaze. Appetite completely repulses because of the sucking feeling of sadness and longing. Of course, you don't know this girl personally, but Bram's grief seems to be transmitted to you. It fills the entire room, forcing out all the air. Approaching the man carefully, you look at him, then at the portrait. The look of the owner of the estate returns to you. “You look so much like her. Could this be fate?”

You never believed in the transmigration of souls, because you always thought it was something on the verge of mysticism and unreal. However, this time, looking a man eye to eye, you are ready to believe anything. And all his oddities that you notice for an extended amount of time disappear from your mind. You are literally drawn to Stoker, and he doesn't even try to push you away. Instead, he lets you touch his icy cheeks with symmetrical scars on either side. Its coldness doesn't bother you at all, instead you just breathe out:

“You're so cold, Mr. Stoker. Let me warm you up.”

You reach for his lips, and the man still doesn’t push you away, allowing you to touch his dry lips. A careful touch makes him close his eyes, clasp your waist with icy, like a dead man's hands, press you a little closer. In the dining room where you are, it is as if a vacuum is formed in which nothing is heard, and only in your ears you hear the beating of your heart.

It's amazing how quickly things change around. A moment ago you were standing by the fireplace in the dining room, and now you are surrounded by a guest room in which you sleep. And while graceful hands with long, thin fingers free you from the shackles of clothes, you reach for the buttons on Bram's vest. His lips never leave your warm skin for a second. Every part of your body that opens up is covered in kisses, soft and pleasant. The man silently asks, “Are you ready?” For him, this moment is an opportunity to escape from the loneliness that lives side by side with him for God knows how long. You are his chance to feel not alone again.

There is less and less clothes on your bodies. Kisses on your skin fan the flames in your chest, your blood feels hot like magma coursing through your veins. You bashfully cover your body with your hands, but Bram carefully takes your wrists and spreads his arms to the sides. His scarlet eyes, like rubies in the snow, burn out in your memory your well-made girlish figure.

“You are beautiful, my love,” comes out of his lips more involuntarily than consciously, but he does not think of correcting himself somehow. And that only makes it more embarrassing. The white sheets embrace you as Stoker continues to cover your skin with kisses. Having taken off your underwear, the man, to his surprise, finds that you are already wet enough to take at least one of his fingers into you. Not to mention that you are clearly untouched by anyone. “Are you ready?”

He waits for a rejection so he can just stop and pretend it never happened. He wants to suppress the growing thirst, although he understands that for you the current one everything will end on this snow-white bed. The thirst that Bram so desperately wants to quench lies in your blood, in its alluring scent, in the warmth of your body and your curiosity. Appearing impudent to him from the doorway, you charmed him afterwards. And now he won't be able to let you go so easily, his inky heart won't be able to survive this.

To his dismay, you agree. And his thirst is joined by the desire to get all of you, to make you his forever. His finger has a hard time getting inside your pussy. You’re wet, tight and warm that Stoker almost groans, anticipating how he will stuffed you completely, replacing his finger with his cock. The man moves it carefully, watching each change of your emotional spectrum with his eyes shining in the twilight. You bewitch him like a real witch. And as soon as your first moan breaks from your lips, Bram has to make every effort to restrain himself and frankly animal desires.

A second one joins the finger inside you. For the owner of the estate to work you like this, seeing you thrash around in his hands is real torture. Your rapid breathing, interrupted by moans, the way you bite your lips and tremble. Stoker is ready to die and be reborn for this moment. He asked you for the last time the question of your readiness to take him inside you, he still hopes to hear a refusal. But you nod, and he has no other choice but to follow you into the pool of pleasure.

He enters your pussy slowly, centimeter by centimeter. Surprisingly, you don't feel any pain. It's warm inside you, the walls wrap around his cock tightly, almost not allowing him to move inside you. And only when Stoker enters you completely, looking deeply into your eyes, he kissed your lips. In this position, you spend some time before your body relaxes underneath him, the walls no longer wrap around his cock so much, and he can move more or less freely.

Bram's movements inside you are slow, smooth, but deep. The man revels in your quiet moans and sighs. You grab his shoulders, arch your back, changing the angle of entry, but you only ask for one thing: “Don’t stop.” And it removes all restrictions from the owner of the estate, which begins to pick up the pace, leaning over the crook of your neck. The heat of your body, the intensified scent of blood beckons him, and who is he to deny himself pleasure.

Your blood is hot, filling his mouth and throat, dripping with rare drops on the white sheets under your especially loud moan. Stoker moves inside you faster now, bringing you to orgasm with more than just the feel of the fangs in your neck. And you can only remotely hear how he moans with you, cumming inside.

That night, the moon turned red.

#My writing #bsd smut #Smut #bsd x reader #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bram x reader #bram stoker bsd #stoker x reader #bram stoker x reader

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yisony07 · 6 months

Text

Trick-and-Treat

Hello hello, despite still being on break, I wanted to take the opportunity to leave you this "thematic" story. I hope you like it!

"I still can't believe you went to that abandoned house and stole that thing," John said in a mix of laughter and disbelief as he stared wide-eyed at his friend Mark. “How on Earth did you do it?”

“Hehehe… you wanna know?” Mark asked with a smirk on his face, while holding a peculiar jack o lantern wrapped in a blanket, which was black on the outside and red on the inside. “When we get home I’ll explain.”

The sky was turning orange at sunset when both men arrived at Mark's apartment. It was the evening before Halloween and the pair of friends had been invited to a party at one of the most popular fraternities at his college. John took a seat on the couch while Mark placed the flashlight somewhere he considered special; in the end, he left it on a shelf near his bed. Mark returned to the living room.

"Well, this is what happened," and he proceeded to tell his story.

(Mark)

As the sky debated whether to stay blue or turn orange, a young man walked cautiously down the street. He saw around him how the houses were decorated with ghosts, witches, pumpkins, skeletons... the spirit of the festival of the dead roamed around, cheering the spirited and frightening the weak. Mark was one of the spirited ones, and what better time than Halloween to explore an abandoned house?

He left the university campus and headed to the edge of the city. Set back from the street, there was a house whose wood had several cracks and holes, the windows were dusty and legends said that there was a treasure guarded by a sleeping spirit, who only woke up during these times to curse thieves.

"Bullshit," Mark thought with a smirk as he stepped onto the grass that separated him from the house.

When he was in front of the door, he looked back to see if anyone saw him: luckily for him, there was no one. He took out his phone and sent a message to his friend John.

Come see me as soon as you can in this place, I'm gonna explore it.

Mark took a few steps to the threshold, grabbed the cold doorknob, and opened it. It was surprising that he had opened up so easily. Even though it was still afternoon, it was almost impossible to see in there, while the dust on the windows prevented the sun's rays from passing through.

"Now, where will the blessed treasure be?" he asked as he entered. When his foot was inside the house, a wind blew around him which made his hair stand on end and the door slammed shut. "What the...?!" he shouted, but calmed down in a few seconds. "It was just the wind..."

Mark walked around the site covering his mouth and nose to avoid the dust. He was going in a bit of a hurry, but he was careful not to trip over anything, although that task was complicated, since everything was almost in darkness. A creak made him look around, but there was nothing, or so it seemed. The whisper of the wind and the screech of wood with each step he took did not help the situation.

"I must be close," he thought, unable to hold back a cough.

Suddenly, Mark fell to the ground as he tripped on something hard that reached his calves. Getting up, Mark did his best to both wipe some of the dirt off and see what had caused him to fall.

"What an idiot!" he exclaimed, taking out his phone and turning on the flashlight. "Why didn't I think of it before?" he said before pointing at the object.

It was a black chest with gold edges. It was slightly open and a strange smell of rotten pumpkin emanated from it. Mark pointed around, but he didn't seem to see anything more interesting than the typical objects of a house with cobwebs on them and in a deplorable state of disrepair, so he returned to the chest, opened it, and with one hand took out the contents.

"This is the blessed treasure?" he questioned with clear disappointment upon seeing a reddish jack-o-lantern cloaked in a dark cloak.

He checked the chest for anything else. Someone else had probably ransacked the house before him, not only for the "treasure of little value" but also for the fact that the chest was in plain sight... well, that it was not hidden.

Mark took a photo as evidence and made his way back outside. Something strange was that, near the door, Mark heard a low cry:

"MARK!!!"

He looked everywhere with open eyes, but nothing seemed to have been the source. After a few seconds, he heard his name again.

"Mark! Mark!"

It sounded very different from the first call, but perhaps it was his ears playing tricks on him, as these screams sounded like the voice of his friend, John. He opened the door and left the house; he left never to return.

"And then I found you at the entrance…," he concluded with a triumphant smile.

"How cool! Imagine when you tell everyone at the frat party!"

"I'll finally be a legend and be recognized properly," Mark said.

"Well, I have to go, I haven't decided on my costume yet, do you want to come?"

"Nah, I'll see what I wear," and Mark couldn't hold back a yawn. "I'll take the opportunity to take a nap and be full of energy there!"

"Okay, see you around, bud."

And John walked away, leaving Mark alone in his house. Mark went to take a shower and wash off the dirt and smell that the visit to that house left on him.

When he came out of the bathroom, he only put on boxers and night pants, leaving his torso exposed. Then, he set the alarm on his phone an hour before the party, turned off the lights, and went to take a nap on his comfortable bed.

Even for the time, it was unusually cold, which made Mark's sleeping body shiver (although he didn't use fans or air conditioning). The sound of a glass object breaking suddenly woke him up.

"What the hell?" Mark said with a hint of fear. With his gaze he scanned the room and, in the seconds it took him to get used to being awake, he realized that a vase that his mother had given him before she died had broken, and his remains were scattered. on the floor. "How the fuck did this happen?" he asked, as the vase was neither in a corner nor near a window.

He looked around him and noticed the jack-o-lantern he had stolen, seemingly staring at him with an evil smile on his face. It seemed to be emitting a gloomy glowing smoke.

Mark dismissed any idea that it was a haunted object and carefully got up to find the broom and dustpan. He got another scare when, upon entering, he noticed that the flashlight was not on the shelf, but on the desk where he did his homework.

"It can't be, I must be hallucinating..." he told himself as he cleaned and threw away the fragments of the vase. "But just in case..."

Mark took the pumpkin, carried it to the apartment door, leaving it on the floor next to the frame, and returned to his room. He checked the time, there was still time before the alarm, so he lay back down on the bed.

"Maybe it was just a nightmare." he said, covering himself with the sheets.

A weak and low murmur sounded in the room while smoke entered through the cracks in the door. Disturbed by what had happened to him, Mark had not been able to sleep again, so he opened his eyes.

A mass of smoke floated in front of the door to his room in a gentle swirl. The door opened by itself and the reddish pumpkin floated towards him wrapped in the cloak, which extended towards the ground as if an invisible being was wearing it.

Before Mark could scream or escape, the smoke lashed out at him, grabbing him by the limbs. Mark struggled, but the smoke's grip was insurmountable; The pumpkin floated until it was close to his face, the cape gently brushing his legs.

"You think you're very brave invading other people's property, huh?" said a deep voice, the same deep voice that had raised the first scream in the house. The voice seemed amused, as if he were cruelly playing with a new toy, "You feel like you're the coolest thing and that people will admire you for breaking the law, right? Well, it's my turn to steal something from you."

Mark was wide-eyed and lip-trembling, unable to respond with anything more than an "I'm sorry..."

"I don't want your apologies… Trick or treat? You'll get tricked!"

The smoke holding Mark pulled down his pants, revealing a cock that was a little big so as not to be hard.

"Coming!"

The smoke lifted Mark and released him, leaving him in the air for a few seconds. In those endless seconds, all the smoke entered his body through all the orifices: mouth, nostrils, ears, penis, ass... Not even Mark's moans or kicks did anything to prevent it. With an evil laugh, no trace of the gas was left outside. Mark felt like a million bugs were moving inside him as he fell back into bed, or like a boiling river. His body shook non-stop and little by little he felt how he lost control over them. First his legs, then his torso, then his arms…

His body rose on its own and remained standing. One of her hands was massaging her nipples while the other went towards her penis. Mark groaned involuntarily.

"I haven't felt this in a long time..." said the spirit from the jack-o-lantern. "But it will be better when it is complete!" she added, and the head floated to rest on top of Mark's, the cape surrounding him from the shoulders.

"No, no, no..." Mark said, shaking his head from side to side, but his hands left their positions and made his head stay still, so that the pumpkin lowered as if it were a helmet. .

And when the pumpkin aligned itself with his features, Mark fell unconscious.

*Beep, beep, beep...*

The sound of an alarm made him open his eyes. Everything looked confusing. He blinked several times until everything became clear. He jumped up from the floor (why was he on the floor?) While he felt his hard cock and walked to the mirror.

Wait... Mark thought, why am I moving?

"Why?" his voice responded sarcastically, and his gaze fell on the mirror.

The cape fell over him elegantly. He was wearing a formal yet out-of-period suit with its sleeves with flourishes. His head was covered with a jack-o-lantern that served as a helmet.

"Because now I'm in control," the new Mark said, taking it off.

His features were similar to Mark's except for the reddish glow in his eyes and the real vampire fangs he had grown. The spirit ran his new tongue over his lips and formed a smile as he inspected his appearance. He moved his hands to the buttons of his shirt and unbuttoned the top ones, so that he could show off those juicy pecs.

"Looks like I'm ready to party," he said, laughing. A grimace of pleasure crossed his face. "Fuck... how much I missed this..." he added, undoing the strap and opening his pants, so that his enormous bulge under his boxers was exposed.

Wh-wh-what are you going to do with me? Mark asked, unable to control his body.

"Didn't you want to please everyone by showing off your prowess? I'll just give them proof of our... my abilities," he replied as he rubbed his bulge.

NO!!!! Mark shouted, but it was no use.

The spirit went to the party, leaving everyone surprised by the lascivious and shameless way in which he was dressed.

"Trick or treat," the spirit said through Mark, grinning lasciviously at those present and slapping his ass. "I'm ready to give everyone a good treat."

And Mark, defeated, witnessed and felt how his body was used like a slut to satisfy everyone's horny desires, including the incessant pleasure-seeking of the spirit that controlled him.

-The End-

Trick or Treat everybody!!

#ghost possession #gay ghost possession #gay transformation #male transformation #male tf #male body possession #male possession #body possession #body takeover

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zepp-l1n · 7 months

Text

Escape

Pairing: Adam Stanheight x (Photographer) GN!reader

summary: after Laurence leaves Adam behind, someone stumbles upon him accidentally. fic type - hurt/comfort, angst warning - cannon saw violence, oc involved that I made for the plot word count - 2,149 a/n: I love the Saw franchise so much and now that it's getting closer to Halloween I'm gonna write some scary stuff :D

"I have to go and get help. If I don't.... I'm going to bleed to death." Lawrence groaned out, clinging onto Adam.

"Don't leave me!" Adam begged. His hands tried to hold onto Lawrence's shirt tighter, but he was unsuccessful. Lawrence pulled away, slowly crawling towards the open door. Adam cried out to him as he made his way further and further away, but stopped as Lawrence turned back to him.

The older man pulled himself up a bit, using the wall and pipes as leverage. "Don't worry, I'll bring someone back. I promise."

Lawrence turned back to the door but stopped again when Adam called out. "Lawrence! We're going to be okay?"

"I wouldn't lie to you." he muttered back. Adam watched defeatedly as the doctor left the room, presumably to find help. He watched as the body in front of him came to, taking it's time gathering things and walking towards the door Lawrence had escaped though. He watched as the man spoke to him before shutting off the lights and locking him back in the room. He watched as he was left alone in the dark, screaming and crying, waiting for someone to come and release him from his personal hell.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

"Chris, I don't see why I have to do this." (Y/N)'s groaned out. The two were both in their collage's photography course, and had decided to help each other out on their current assignment. They were told to take photos of local rundown areas in an attempt to capture unusual beauty. Chris had taken the lead, taking (Y/N) to a part of town they had never been to.

In their search around the block, the two had stumbled upon an abandoned building. It outsides weren't to disheveled so Chris brought up the idea of going inside and trying to find any scenes that would show the story of whoever lived here before.

"Dude, imagine what shit was left behind. There could be whole living set ups that would be perfect for what the professor wants." Chris responded.

"Are we really gonna risk our lives for these photos, though?" (Y/N) asked.

Chris removed one hand off of his camera, letting it weigh down a bit more on his neck, and slapped (Y/N) on the back of their head "Oh, shut up. We're not gonna die, idiot." Chris laughed out. He placed his hand back on his camera and moved his shoulder out, nudging his friend.

"If you say so." (Y/N) walked forwards, making their way towards the back door of the abandoned house. "But you're walking in front the entire time."

Chris let out a laugh and stepped in front, guiding (Y/N) into the building. "Yeah, yeah." The duo made their way through the building, pushing past cobwebs and old sheets. The two friends uncomfortable glanced around, seeing boarded up windows and gross looking floorboards.

"Chris, maybe we should go, man." (Y/N) muttered, stepping around a broken chair.

"Don't be a wuss, just come on." Chris moved into the next room, walking around and taking pictures as he went. (Y/N) followed behind, going along with him as they made their way throughout the entire house. Each room was a little more disgusting than the last. Glass from the windows was broken, floors and carpets were stained, furniture was broken and flipped. Everything had obviously not been used in years, and Chris was having the time of his life getting pictures. (Y/N) would take a few every few rooms, but didn't take half as many as their friend.

They made their way to the last room of the house, finding the door opened, unlike most of the other rooms, and it empty other than the giant safe inside. "Holy shit." Chris muttered, snapping a picture. After getting the picture he moved forward, taking a good look at the safe. "Hey, look at this." he motioned for (Y/N) to step forward. They did, taking the spot next to him.

"What?" they asked.

"Underneath the safe, look." he spoke again.

Glancing down, (Y/N) saw what looked to be like the outline of a door underneath the safe. "What the...."

"Here, help me move this." Chris took off his camera, set it a few feet away, and started pushing the safe away from it's current position. (Y/N) was quick to join him, placing their camera near his, and going back to push it too. Once the safe had been pushed away, the duo took in the trap door, looking at it cautiously. "Well shit." he mumbled.

"C'mon, help me open it up." (Y/N) hesitantly asked, making sure to grab their camera before hand.

"What?" came from their friend. "Weren't you the one that didn't want to enter the building in the first place?"

"Yeah, well now it's getting weird, and I'm curious, so stop being a bitch and help me." they responded. Chris moved towards the trap door, and the two fiddled with it for a few minuets before finally unlodging it. "There we go..." (Y/N) grinned. The two pushed the door open, and glanced down into it. (Y/N) took a picture into the vast darkness, causing it's flash to brighten up the space. "C'mon...."

The duo took off down the hatch, taking photos along the way to give themselves light. Each flash gave them a glimpse of the dingy and cobweb filled halls, and helped them find their way around. "Hey, (Y/N), why don't we just head back?" Chris mumbled.

"No man," they turned to their friend and took a picture at him, letting the flash hit his eyes. "If you wanna go back, just wait for me at the trap door. I want to look around."

Chris huffed out an exhausted sigh and nodded before turning back the way they came. "Listen dude, just don't take to long. We've still gotta' take these to my dark room and get them ready for the deadline." Chris shook his camera as he spoke and gave them a cautious grin, then took off back to the hatch.

(Y/N) watched their friend leave before snapping a picture and continuing on their walk. The young adult stumbled around, going up and down halls, looking for anything unusual or interesting.

(Y/N) walked around for a while before finally making it to a dead end. As they went to turn, taking one last picture, they noticed that something was different about the wall. It's color was different in comparison to the walls they had been passing for the past little while, although it was obvious that it had been crafted in an attempt to keep it hidden. "What the....?" They stepped forward, taking another photo. At the left edge of the door they noticed a small and dusty handle. Reaching forward, (Y/N) lightly pulled at the handle, but hurriedly retracted their hand when feeling a gross sticky substance. They let out a groan in disgust, wiped the mysterious gunk on their shirt, and went back for the handle. "Ewwww...." they whined as they put their hand back on it.

(Y/N) used both of their hands this time, pulling a bit harder. As the door opened, (Y/N) took one hand back, and brought it up to their camera. They hesitated for a second before clicking the shutter-release button. The flash went throughout he entire room, giving (Y/N) a somewhat decent look at the bathroom in front of them. They could tell it was just as gross and disheveled as the rest of the house - if not worse.

Taking another picture, (Y/N) looked more around the room, attempting to see more of their surroundings. In a small moment of growing curiosity, they stepped inside and felt around the nearby walls, hoping to find something useful. To (Y/N)'s surprise, they did. Their right hand grazed against a switch on the nearby wall, it's hard structure jutting out from the tiled wall. The photographer flipped the switch slowly, watching and waiting as each light flickered and turned on.

During their moment of distraction, (Y/N) missed the small figure in the corner that was curled in on itself. The figure, a young man, most likely their age, lifted his head slightly in (Y/N)'s direction. Although he was very much conscious, the man had been starved and hadn't been given water in days, causing his movements to be slow and small. A soft cough made it's way out of his throat as he attempted to get their attention, causing (Y/N)'s gaze to fall over to him.

"Holy shit..." At first glance, they took in his bloody shirt and chain-clad ankle. "Holy fucking shit!" The longer they looked at the man the more recognizable he became. For months his face had been on missing posters around New Jersey - 15 of them could be seen on every street corner, and once (Y/N) saw the sad older women putting them up, who they now assumed was his mother. Slowly stepping forward as to not scare the man, (Y/N) attempted to speak to him. "Hello? You're...." they paused, trying to remember the name on the posters, "Your're Adam, right?"

The man quickly nodded, his eyes still darting around as he adjusted to the new lighting. "Yea..." Adam's voice caught in his throat causing him to cough again.

"Okay, Adam. I'm.... listen, my friend is waiting on my upstairs, I'm gonna go get him and then I'll be back to save you, okay?" (Y/N)'s statement seemed to throw him into a panic. His weak body jerked a bit, and he found himself reaching up, a scared look on his face.

"No! Don't leave me! Please, don't leave me like he did!" he begged. Adam's arm flung out at (Y/N), hand open and pleading.

(Y/N), not having been expecting his reaction, stepped forwards to comfort Adam. "Hey, hey, it's just for a moment. I promise." This didn't ease Adam's pleas. From (Y/N)'s perspective, it seemed as if it almost made them worse. In a quick and mostly unpondered decision, (Y/N) dropped down near the hysterical man, and grabbed onto his reaching hand. "Adam, look at me."

Adam glanced forward at them, trying to hear them over his own worries. "I-" as he tried to speak, (Y/N) softly cut him off.

"Adam, I can't get this off you myself." they pointed towards the chain holding him to the bathroom pipes. "I'm just gonna step outside the door and yell for my friend Chris, okay? I'll be in your line of sight the whole time, and I'll have him call 911 for us. I'm gonna get you out of here Adam."

Softly releasing their grip on him, (Y/N) moved back towards the doorway, not missing the way his hand still lingered out where theirs's had been. (Y/N) took one last reassuring glance at Adam before stepping through the doorway. Once exiting the room, the photographer let out a sharp breath, and took a moment to collect themself before yelling for help. "Chris!" their yell echoed through the halls and they hoped it would be loud enough for him to hear.

Moments passed before (Y/N) heard the soft call of Chris yelling back. "Chris, I need you to call the police!"

"What?" came his quick responce.

"Call 911, Chris! I found someone down here! For fucks sake, just hurry!" they screamed. "Call an ambulance, just something!" Without waiting for a proper response, (Y/N) made their way back to Adam, hoping he was still okay. "Adam?" they softly spoke, walking back into the bathroom.

He was still where they left him - sitting up, back against the wall, arm lightly tugging at the chain. Carefully taking off their camera, (Y/N) moved back to him, sitting in the same spot they had been before. "Chris is getting help. We're getting you out of here." Adam's eyes lightly watered as he looked at his unexpected savior. "You're safe now, Adam."

Leaning next to his shaking body, (Y/N) grabbed onto his side and arms, attempting to give him any comfort possible. Adam's hands gripped onto (Y/N) in a similar manner, and tucked his head into their shirt. Quiet thank you's escaped his lips as he finally let himself relax after the weeks of torturous solitude and constant fear of whether or not he would be saved. The two sat quietly in the bathroom, holding onto each other. They didn't have to say anything in the moment, both just sharing an understanding that things would be getting better for Adam. He was now safe. He was now out of Jigsaw's clutches.

Slowly, in Adam's moment of calm, (Y/N) noticed his breath level out. Looking down, they could see his content expression and decided to let him have his moment of peaceful sleep as they waited for Chris and the police to show up. (Y/N)'s arms wrapped further around him, falling into the same sense of calmness. "Your safe now, Adam. Your safe...."

#reader insert #adam stanheight #adam faulkner stanheight #adam stanheight x reader #saw movies #saw franchise #saw series #saw 2004 #leigh whannell #sawposting #adam deserved better #fuck lawrence #original characters that have nothing to do with the saw movies but I needed them for plot.#photographer!reader #lawrence gordon #john kramer #horror fanfiction #say hi to chris

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 8 months

Note

🪿🪿🪿🪿Dove! 🤌👏🫰 ayoooo

I’m here for the followes event —

I’d like to yhhh request prompt #3 with Jade :] 🔪

It can be fluffy/hurt/comfort honestly whichever you’re feeling (I know sometimes the writing does what it wants once you get into it lol)

Backup prompt: #4

Backup characters: Malleus, Riddle

Thankfuho you (I just wokeu p and can’t type to spell but whatever I’m just leaving it ❤️)

Discovering Old Secrets; Jade Leech

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, implied romantic relationship

Word Count; 700+

Author's Note; I originally had something else in mind that used the knife emoji but my brain wasn't braining. But this, this is so much better and fluffier than I had planned /positive.

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You were down in the basement, lantern in hand illuminating the way. The power had gone out, and of course, the fuse box was in the basement of all places. Sevens forbid the person who built the cottage you were staying in actually put it in an easy-to-access spot. Nope! They had to put it in the creepy, old, basement. And since Jade was out getting groceries, that left you to fix it yourself. So, lantern in hand, you started fiddling with the fuse box, trying to find the one that had blown. At least you had some prior experience, what, living in Ramshackle and all; you had become well acquainted with getting stubborn fuses to work for you, even jokingly calling it your unique magic.

“Come on, work for me baby,” you muttered, and all of the lights flickered to life once again. “Ha ha! Me? One! Fuse box? Zero!” You dusted yourself off and looked around the basement, now that you could see everything.

Apparently the people who rented this place out didn’t take out all of the old owners’ boxes, and they were just laying there collecting dust and cobwebs. There couldn’t be any harm in just taking a tiny peak, never know what you could find.

As you were gently looking through the boxes — hey, they’re probably old and you didn’t want to accidentally break anything — you heard the front door open and close. Jade was back which meant you had been digging for a bit. Sighing, you stretched, and made your way to the kitchen with its bright yellow cupboards.

Jade hummed you a greeting and chuckled a bit at seeing the dust. “What did you get into while I was away, dear,” his voice was teasing, but he was genuinely curious.

“Welllll,” you drawled, “the power went out so I had a little fight with the fuse box, I won by the way, and discovered some old boxes down in the basement and was seeing if they held anything interesting.” A loud sneeze escaped from you, a result of all of the dust. “But all I found was a tonne of dust, way too many spiders for my liking, and,” you fished around in your pocket, “this key.”

Jade set the groceries down and came over to inspect it. “Well that’s rather interesting…” he murmured. “May I?”

You handed him the key, curious about what he seemed so interested in. Sure it was pretty, made from silver and inlaid with abalone and pearls, which were now weathered with time. There must have been a good reason why it peaked his interest.

Jade wandered into the living room, and started running his hand under the shelves of the large bookcase which was built in the wall. And then he stopped, a proud and large smile gracing his face. He placed the key into a divot in the bookcase, and it swung inwards, revealing stone steps leading down. “Looks like you just helped discover an old secret, my dear,” he chuckled, beckoning you to follow him down the stairs.

Slowly, you followed him, the light from the cottage helping to illuminate the way, as well as a pale blue glow from below. And then you stopped, having reached the bottom. In front of you was what looked like an underwater sea cave, with a shallow beach. And light gently filtered from a small hole at the top, causing the blue glow that you saw.

You looked over to Jade, hoping for an explanation, but you found him looking at you instead, expression soft.

“What did you mean by old secrets,” you whispered, not wanting for something louder to break the serene scene.

Jade took your hands in his and led you to the water, just deep enough where the water lapped against your calves. “The key you found, this place,” he briefly broke eye contact so he could observe the cavern before they travelled back to you. “It opens a secret meeting place, where land and sea can live together… it was forged by the love of a human and a merfolk.”

Just like us.

Jade continued moving deeper until you were chest deep in the water, and he dived under, changing into his merform before coming back up. “And is only discovered by those curious enough to pursue it.”

~~~~~~~

Tags; @aqua-beam @azulashengrottospiano @eynnwwyjth @hisui-dreamer @identity-theft-101 @krenenbaker @officialdaydreamer00 @savanaclaw1996 @silvers-numberonefan @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

#dove does events #follower event #twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #jade leech x gn reader #i might come back to this concept and do something with it because my brain is frothing at the idea; but idk #sha la la la my oh my! go on and ~kiss da eel~#jade is in very high demand; fiss kissers are you alright?#also a fiss kisser but i have seen my moots lose it on not getting halloween jade; hopefully this helps some #i was possessed by a vision; the other draft i was stuck at 150 words for a few hours; deleted it; wiped this out in like 2 hours #b r a i n r o t

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astudyincontrasts · 2 years

Text

Incubus!Victor x Fem!Reader NSFW

@uwuboowoo wished for Incubus!Viktor drabble and how was my monster loving ass to say no? Featuring a surprise treat artwork collab by my beloved queen of Viktor art @arcanescribbles 🖤 Full glorious art work here!

Thematic horror, slight initial dub con, over stim, breeding kink, mindbreak themes, monster fuckin.

⊱ ───── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

There was a creepy scent to old houses that you hated. Like the ages of dust and previous lives had built up in the walls and floorboards like layers of varnish, a must of creeping damp and mice living in the plasterwork, of old burnt dinners and long since extinguished candle wicks. A scent no amount of perfumes or cleaning agents or open windows could ever truly dissipate.

And this house was old, according the the landlord it also hadn’t been occupied in years. Said he couldn’t keep a tenant in it. They all kept breaking their leases, some without a word, just up and vanishing and he wouldn’t realize they were gone until the rent checks stopped arriving. Some had left lots of stuff behind. He showed it to you, piled haphazardly in the dank basement, told you to go ahead and ransack it for whatever you might want, he didn’t care. Just happy to have the place inhabited again and bringing in cash.

It certainly wasn’t your first choice of living arrangements. Nor your second, third or fourth. But you were desperate for a place of your own, something you could afford without the necessary annoyance of roommates to help pay the rent. This place came cheap as dirt and it was big. Spacious enough for a family and instead all yours. Besides, it had beautiful bones. Victorian embellishments setting it apart from all the art nouveau of the latest architecture. And you could imagine it with a bit of elbow grease; cleaned up and undingied. Lace curtains at the open windows in summer and a crackling fire in the maw of the living room fireplace in the depths of winter.

The keys were heavy, intricate iron things in your hands. Skeleton keys, the landlord explained. Said he’d long ago lost the proper pair to just the front door - if he ever had them. Couldn’t recall anymore.

You’d known of the house since you were a kid. It was that house. The one every town seemed to have, looming dark and just eerie enough to have garnered its share of local legend in the form of absurd urban fairytales.

The one that stuck out the most was that the place had been owned once by a young man, a scientist of some renown. Not happy just to dabble in the sciences he’d turned to the arcane, to dangerous dark magics beyond the scope of human comprehension. It had killed him in that house. Obliterated by one of his own experiments. And ever since then the place had been haunted, had become some kind of portal for the dark things he’d been trying to unlock. It was why no one would stay there for very long and eventually why no one stayed there at all.

Until you.

It felt a little bold, a little exciting and headstrong to be the one taking up residence in the ‘haunted’ house. Weren’t you edgy and brave? That’s what you kept telling yourself as you set up house, brushed away the cobwebs and layers of thick dust. Swept up the floors and unpacked. Kept repeating it to yourself as night began to gather and the already dark corners deepened, the floorboards sighing softly underfoot and pipes rattling like bars of a cage when you ran all the taps at once to clean out the stagnant water before your well-earned evening ablutions.

But that musty old scent still clung to everything. Pervasive but not terribly unpleasant if you were honest; like an old bookshop full of mouldering texts and ancient leather-bound tomes.

The old clawfoot tub was enormous. Let you sink right up to your nose in frothy bubbles and hot, steaming water. So what if those demonic looking claw feet were oddly off-putting? Just a little more upsetting in some way that you couldn’t put your finger on than a normal porcelain tub foot. Black and iron and just something about them... Never mind. The bath felt lovely after all that dusty, dirty work. Knotted muscles unwinding until you felt like warm jelly by the time you climbed out and toweled off. Treated yourself to the luxury of a short, black slip nightdress; felt indulgent indeed to have nothing between skin and soft silk.

The bed was old and came with the house, but the mattress new, the single splurge you’d allowed yourself thus far. Large and soft and fit for a queen. You fell into it blissfully and after a moment’s internal debate blew out the votive candle you’d left on the nightstand. No electric set up in here yet. You were too old for a nightlight and it wouldn’t do to burn your new home to the ground in your sleep.

Regretted it as soon as the light was extinguished, however.

The dark came rushing in like a tidal wave, oppressive and heavy. Pitch black until eyes adjusted and the sheer of old moth-eaten drapes allowed the night outside to illuminate the black with deep hues of dusky blue, moonlight silver where it managed to eek through and skim a surface here or there. You lay there in the silence until it felt deafening. Struggling for sleep in spite of your fatigue and the recent relaxation of the bath, fighting the urge to get up and light not only that candle by the bed but all the others you’d scattered around the room in little clusters atop dresser and bureau and desk.

The house sighed. Creaked. Settled. Swore you could hear soft footsteps if you just listened hard enough. Bare feet slowly walking the halls. Good way to drive yourself crazy in an old home, listening so hard to the silence you started hearing things that weren’t there.

And then there was a sigh much closer.

You stiffened under the sheets, eyes widening slowly in the gloom. It sounded like it had come from directly under the bed. No. Not possible. And then there it was again, only... only this time it was a soft hissing. Like escaping breath or slow steam leaking from a pipe. Tink tink tink tink. Attention riveted upon the foot of the bed and the old iron scrollwork of the bedframe.

And the dark, long fingers curling one by one over the intricate metalwork, black clawed nails tapping in soft succession as they came creeping, climbing.

Voice failed you, scream lodged silently in a thick lump in your throat as you watched a shadow rise, pool, puddle and spread up over the edge of the foot of the bed to spill slow and black across the sheets. Limbs failed you, frozen rictus unable to grant your fervent desire for them to propel you up and out of bed and out the house and down the street.

Out of that spilling, smoke like spread of shadow two brilliant eyes opened like golden sparks, spitfire and luminous, like some sickly beautiful tapetum lucidum of a large predator, only this wasn’t just a reflective shine, oh no. These were lit from within, gleaming gold with pupils blown.

Your entire body jerked as all the candles in the room lit themselves at once in a quiet roar of flame. And there, climbing slowly up into your bed was the spilling sprawl of a long limbed creature shaped like a man... a young man. Face sharp angled and the sneered smile of his mouth a shape of terrible beauty. Skin the color of grey bruised blue that deepened and flushed to near plum in places. Long limbed and stark naked, save for the swirling cling of dark shadow that billowed away like campfire smoke only to gather again, washing back off and over him in loose licking wisps.

Up he climbed, clawed hands fisting in the bedsheets, slowly drawing them down off you, and to your horror... not just two hands, but three. Two perfect leanly corded arms and then a horrific third that seemed to climb from his back, twisted and gnarled and black and eager as it grasped at your ankle, texture like a tree branch but terrifyingly warm. Any urge to kick it off you was squashed by those other two impossibly long fingered hands as they closed upon your knees, pushed them spread to accommodate his slow upward climb and let that grip slide inexorably slow up your thighs.

The entire nightmare came spilling to a halt just there, hovered between the splay of legs he’d made, the terrifying beauty of that face lowering ever so slightly as luminous eyes narrowed with a deep, slow inhalation.

“Aaaahhh.” His voice came in hissing layers, soft echoes forwards and back in a susurrus that somehow managed to align in the center before parting again, a maddening soft play that sunk loving fangs in the tender wet give of your brain, sweet venom spreading like heat, eclipsing panic with something that made your eyes want to roll back in your head, made the small of your back burn to arch and nipples stiffen against the thin black silk of your nightdress.

“I’m so hungry....” The shape of that exquisitely beguiling horror of a mouth spread, smiled, teeth white and sharp in the display of that half-tilt smirking pleasure. So hungry so hungry so hungry... it reverberated in your skull in that hissed sibilance. Something snapped internally.

“Please don’t eat me.” Voice squeaked out of you, soft and cracked and higher pitched than you’d ever heard yourself.

“Eat you?” It’s - his - head canted, lovely mess of dark hair shifting, spilling across his forehead. “Yesss.... I could eat you.”

Face fell, buried itself in the silk covering the apex of your thighs and again came that deep inhalation, this one followed by a nearly purring groan of bliss before those brilliant eyes lifted to gaze up at you from under the thick of dark brows. Every fibre of you tensed at the light pressure of that face shoved against that most intimate hollow.

“So fresh... Its been so long since I’ve been fed. And you. Succulent. But not quite ready yet... not ripe. Sooooooon though. Very soon. Eat you first, yes.”

Thighs were trembling under his grasp as you watched the black of his tongue lick out and wet his lower lip.

“Please. Please no.” It was barely a gasp of a breath, fists tight in the sheet under you, still unable to force limbs to any kind of motion, the whole of you a shivering wreck. Why did you have to pretend to be brave? Why would you come live in the house everyone knew was cursed? Stupid girl. Stupid, dead little girl.

His face turned, eyed the expanse of one smooth thigh before him and he dipped his head, dragged the wet lick of his tongue over tender flesh before pausing to glance up at you again. Dark brows lifted and that smile spread once more.

“No?” No no no? It bounced off the inside of your head like echoes in a cavern, “But you are so sweet. Juicy. And no one’s ever complained while I ate them...”

That horrifying third arm released your ankle, desiccated dry touch slipping away tenderly to rise and catch the hem of your slip and drag it up over your navel, leaving entire lower half vulnerably bare to the famished golden glow of those eyes and that eagerly opening maw. Sharp clawed fingers splayed over the soft of inner thighs, pressed the spread of them even further as you finally, finally began to squirm, to try to escape, scuttle backward against the pillows and out of the bed.

He caught you easily and hauled you back, lifted your backside up under the scooping span of impossibly long fingered hands.

“Please....Please!!!” Voice was shrill, pleading, heart a terrified hammer you could feel straight through to your spine. Convinced any second now that mouth would split that unsettlingly gorgeous face in twain and all those jagged teeth would sink into your most vulnerable flesh and begin to tear you into bite sized hunks of still living meat.

Instead came the slow, sinuous roiling lick of that black tongue. Slicking wet and smooth as oiled silk through the tender folds of your pussy; a lingering, savoring slow drag from stem to stern, coiling a circle around your clit before withdrawing. Leaving you breathless, unconsciously lifting toward its touch as it vanished.

The creature rocked its head back, the gloriously knifepoint angles of that jaw upthrust as he moaned long and low at the taste of you. Head lowering again slowly, the illumination of those hypnotic eyes doubled, fire stoked.

“Ahn, moje malá broskvička...” One finger slowly stroked along the part of your pussy, so careful of that sharp nail, letting its point drag along ticklishly. “Come to save me from starving. Such sweetness. Let me eat you up and keep you, lovely little peach.”

You were gulping, gasping. Confused and more than anything, more than all the blinding fear and irrational panic, you were inexplicably aroused. Skin singing soft heat, a luscious effervescent flutter winding lazily in the pit of your stomach, begging more of that tongue, of the touch of cool hands that left fire in their wake, mind numbing, mouth filling want like you’d never known.

It made no sense. You ought to have been repulsed, horrified. Instead you were... craving? Wriggling in his grasp instead of struggling. It had that knowing smirk back on that exquisite mouth as he dipped back down, licking, laving, soft and languorous as the impossible length of his tongue slid through folds and caressed clit, over and over and over again in endless untiring patterns until you were keening. Face turned to the side and arm thrown over your eyes, cunt on fire for him, the taut knots coiling and doubling in shuddering ache within begging to be released.

He blew softly on your clit and you convulsed, earning a soft peel of delighted laughter from him. And then that mouth closed on the pulse running through that hypersensitive little bundle of nerves and sucked. Sucked as the tip of his tongue curled over and around it and oh, you came undone.

Sharp nails dug gently into the grasp of your lifted buttocks as you bucked and thrashed and whined release so intense you felt it in your bones. White hot ecstasy fizzing hot supernova collapse before it shattered outward, spangling searing little points of spitfire stars across the black of vision, a trillion little points of tingling light and sweet agony relief spattered like celestial freckles over skin and nerve and bone.

Swore you heard him moaning softly along with you as you came, like he felt it. Like it was his own release.

You went limp, panting, shivers slowing gradually. And thought perhaps he’d lower you back onto the bed. He did not. Instead he sat back on haunches and lifted you further, your knees and thighs draped over broad shoulders, his arms circling your waist to keep your lower half cradled up against him.

In he delved again. Mercifully avoiding the slow subsiding throb of your clit and instead licking at the still convulsing flutter of your entrance. Tongue pushed, pressed, dipped within and a sharp gasp caught like a stone in your throat as it slid in. And then more. Further. Thicker. In and in and coiling, curling the entire time. A constant mind-blanking delicious roll against climax-soaked walls.

On the bed your hands shifted, stretched, found his knees and grabbed a sharp grip, digging your own short, blunt nails in hard. Nothing had ever felt this good, nothing in your whole life. Swore you could feel that tongue from tips of toes to behind your navel as it slid roiling slow twists within, licking parts of you no one had ever tasted, as hot and slick and thick as a snake. Had your head thrown back and mouth open like your heart would come tumbling out of it onto the bedsheets for him to scoop up and devour.

And once he found that perfect spot within? Oh. Hard thrusting slow press licks unrelenting, until your toes curled so hard you could feel your calves begin to sear with the promise of a crushing cramp of muscles, until you were thrashing again, only held together buy the embrace of his arms wound round your hips, one hand slid down to drag the gentle scrape of long nails over the tender round of a half uncovered breast as his tongue lapped a second, harder orgasm out of you.

This one mind shattering. Deep, wringing waves crashing through you, against you, over you. Left you gulping, whimpering between airless gasps, every ounce of you gone perfectly rigid and quivering before you broke. Eyes rolled back so hard you were certain you’d gone blind. Sublime, succulent release as you unwound slow, waves eased to soft lapping, the sucking slide of the tide going back out as he let you slip down onto the bed. Came to lay between your thighs, head pillowed upon one. Kissing lightly at your swollen, aching clit. Each little brush of his lips convulsing your stomach gently.

You lay sucking breath in little shivers, fingertips gone numb, mind a glorious blank struggling against the odds to try to understand what was happening, who and what he was.

“Delicious one.” He was murmuring, purring thick voiced praise as if he was as undone as yourself. Delicate, almost loving little kisses to that overstimulated, overwrought bundle of nerves. It hurt, it burned, wonderful agony you sighed little whimpers against. “Do not run away, delicious one. I will not hurt you. I could eat you always... stay. Malá broskvička let me fill you up. I’ve waited years for you. Decades. Starving.”

One little lap of the tip of his tongue and you moaned wantonly with a single full body convulsion that had him lift his head to gaze up the length of you with a wicked smile. He shifted to press another kiss and you begged him to stop with a mumbled incoherence, tears gathering to streak from the outer edges of your eyes.

“My pretty thing. Don’t be afraid.” That sibilant echoing accented voice. Interspersed with a language both familiar and unknown. Another kiss, this one softly sucking. You arched, strained, small of your back fit to break as a third release rolled over you in almost painful little burst of bliss. So much, too much. He just wouldn’t stop and for some reason you could not find it in yourself to beg him to. As if you’d let him keep this up until you were reduced to little more than a jibbering mess of eager wet jelly, a hollow shell of yourself.

Lungs sucked air and you forced the train of thought down the tracks, set shoulder to it and shoved while wheels slipped and slid and tried for traction.

“Come... here...” Voice a husk, wrung out and hoarse, softly cracking at the end of each word. He obeyed, left off his next planned torment, pad of a finger just hovering over your abused clitoris, and climbed.

Came to hover over you on all fours, and just out of focus you could see the thick, heavy hang of his hard cock between lean thighs. Larger than any you’d had the like of in your admittedly limited experience. Still, you struggled to tear eyes off it and up to those pretty amber orbs gazing down at you in subtle amusement.

It took such effort to lift hands. Once you got them off the bed though it was as if a sticky mire had released. Free to flex and feel, sensation returning in tingling slowness. You reached to trace the fine cut of his jaw slowly. Watched those eyes slant near shut. Let hands card through the sticky smoke strange spill of dark hair and down the elegant line of his neck. Over shoulders and down arms, along chest. Pausing at the strange cut of black scars in arcane shapes, shadows against the bruised grey blue of skin that felt simultaneously warm and chill to the touch. Like it lived between worlds.

One hand rose to trace features as he held still for it, watching you curiously as you traced the purple shadows under bright eyes, the impossible sharp of cheekbones and then the strange sweet of his mouth. Let you smudge his lips, opened to the pry of your fingers and sucked soft on fingertips that went seeking sharp canines on every ivory.

“What are you?” It came out more marveled than you meant it to and he preened visibly, settling down half over you, all three hands still busy, softly stroking lingering caresses that made you struggle to maintain coherence. they tugged at the thin straps of the shift you wore, slid along arms and ribs and cupped at breasts, tweaked lightly at a nipple through slippery fabric. Sometimes felt like there were more even than three as you fought to stay cogent.

“Once as you are. Now?”

He sighed and lowered himself slowly. Press of face to your throat, bite of sharp teeth along jaw and lick of a tongue against your lower lip. Every inch of him a murder of gathered crows, soft wingbeats close in whispers against skin and black as pitch.

“Now... hunger. Want and craving. From barely alive to starving. Until you. Please. I want to eat. Oh little peach, let me. Are you better? So warm and soft my pretty girl. Could eat you forever.”

While you struggled against the urge to spread thighs again and plead he go right ahead, you dug nails into the strange elastic give of his skin. Like digging into smoke and viscera.

“Name...name yourself.” You huffed out, straining toward his mouth. He smiled sweet as any devil and licked over your lips in a wet line before sucking tenderly at your lower lip until the plush of it was swollen softly.

“Viktor, once. I remember Viktor.”

You latched to it, grazed nails down the lean of his throat over the sharp rise of his adams apple and down to collarbone, watched him slant eyes and stretch his throat for your attentions. Lifted head off the pillows to lick at his collarbone and felt him cradle up the back of your head. Claws carding through the skeins of your hair and along scalp.

And then you wrapped arms around his shoulders and kissed him.

He tasted of incense and cedar. Rosemary tang and the succulent bittersweet of late summer strawberry. Like dragging your tongue along a high tensile power line. Scent of him both petrichor and beeswax. Heady, improbable things that had you reeling while he gathered you closer. Bent to kiss you with an infinite softness that belied the taste of yourself on his mouth and the way he melted into you. One hand found your cunt again and spread folds in a slippery caress, opened you vulnerable like soaked petals before he stroked at your clit again, picked up a little caress to the swollen, puffy throb of it that broke your hold on his mouth as you instantly lapsed into another little crumbling, shuddering orgasm, too abused and overwrought to have any resistance left.

The blade of his nose pressed to your cheekbone as you came again for him, felt the coursing wet starting to drip between the cheeks of your ass and knew full well the bed beneath you was ruined. So much for those new sheets and mattress.

“You smell like summertime. Taste of sunshine. I’ve been in the dark so long.” So long so long so long. He was nuzzling at your throat, licking along your cheek where desperate tears had spilled with that last release. One spidery hand splayed over the soft of your stomach. “Sweet peach. Let me fill you?”

And your shattered little reptile hindbrain simply nodded heady agreement as you slid hands down between you both and found his cock. Heavy, hard. Leaking nearly as badly as yourself. It was him this time who caught breath and sighed as you stroked him, grasp trembling weakly as fingers slid along veined girth.

He buried his face between breasts before nuzzling at the slippery black silk still mostly draped over them. Licked at the fabric over the stiff upward press of a nipple, bit gently over it, the soft silk ticklish as it soaked through before he’d managed to drag it aside, moaning quietly to himself as he sucked slow, thrusting into your hand and drooling precum along one bared thigh.

When he’d had enough, he released the soft torment of that now gently burning little stiff bud and lifted you, turned you on hands and knees as he took you slow in spite of his dripping ache and your eagerness.

That desiccated third hand found a hard grip on your hip as he fitted himself to you and eased in. The hard ridge of the head of his cock a gripping spread that had you pushing back hard, eyelids flickering heavy as he sank in, mumbled half coherent praise of how well you took him. So much. He rocked against you, a gradual give and take until he was deep as either of you could go and you were worming against him, listening to his ragged breath as he bit at the nape of your neck, your ear, burned slow kisses across the curve of a cheek.

One hand came up to wrap spidery long fingers over the slope of your shoulder, the edge of a finger dragging against the catch of your lower lip as he began to move. Press of his cheek to your temple as he kept your face turned toward him, wanting to watch you come undone with him buried inside you. And if you thought what he could do with his tongue was unspeakably sublime...

For all his obvious need he was shockingly tender. Hips a delicious rhythmic rocking that had you pitching gluttonous little moans each time he hit up against your backside, made you feel little more than a hollow vessel that’d just been waiting this whole lifetime for him to fill you.

Drunk or drugged with him, and miles beyond caring. Nothing had ever felt so good, the nirvanic bliss eating away at your insides, that throbbing ache rebuilding over and over again each time you thought there was no way he’d drag one more orgasm out of you. You were on fire, itch more intense the more he scratched it for you, and your body ready to give out with all of it. Thighs and the brace of arms you were holding yourself up with both shook weakly. Sweat dribbling down between breasts and the pinch between shoulder blades. You felt him lick a bead of it off your temple as he murmured soft nothings.

“Sweet peach, so warm. Does that feel good? You take me so deep, little one... look at you shiver. Such a good girl to come to me like this, to feed me so well. On your knees for me, my delicious one, such noises you make. Do you like how I make you feel? Do you want me to be rougher?”

Sharp nails bit lightly into your all too human flesh and had you whining as he picked up his pace a bit, sweet friction doubling as your walls squeezed around him in fluttered, staccato grasps, stomach taut as a drum and breath coming in little gasping moans so embarrassingly wanton you wished to die.

Only the fact that he too was rapidly coming undone and making many unrestrained sounds of delight of his own that were starting to drown yours out saved you. One hand slid under you, nails grazing at your belly, across your navel.

“Will you swell for me, malá broskvička ? Let me make this sweet belly round and soft with little ones. You are so perfect for it, almost ripe. A few more days. I can smell how badly you want to be bred, pretty one. I will give you all you wish. Say you’ll stay. Please, stay.”

“Yh...yes. Yes...” Like you had the capacity to say anything else when it felt like you’d never have the willpower to climb back out of this bed again?

When he came inside you it nearly sent you into a spiral, your arms giving way, cheek smashed to the bed, one of his hands braced on the back of your head as he snarled softly over you like a large cat over a kill, filling you indeed, until it dripped out and ran down your thighs, until your stomach felt deliciously, softly, slightly distended. Whatever dark thing about him that had you so fuck-dumb absolutely tripled with his seed inside you, spinning hot little tendrils within that wrapped around the senses, made every little sensation feel ten times as strong.

He twitched within you obscenely as he came, and your walls milked at him in fits of slow squeezes as you rode out the slowest, longest release of your life, shuddering with strangled mewls as he doubled over you, scooped you up to cradle you back against him as he sat up, face shoved in the spill of your hair while he rasped out unintelligible worship with cool breath.

“Mine own. Ahn, I cannot live if you leave me. I will adore you, malá broskvička, make you my treasure.”

Treasure treasure treasure. It echoed softly in your ears. And then, just as suddenly as they had lit, all the candles extinguished in one guttered whoosh, room plunged back to darkness as you pitched forward against the pillows and soiled sheets, suddenly unsupported, the strong grasp of him vanished. No longer filled with the delicious stretch of his cock or caged in by that long limbed body. Just enough energy left to roll yourself over and watch wisps of shadowed smoke curl outward in the air and dissipate.

Consciousness found you the next morning groggy and exhausted, so tender that even the softest touch of your own fingers had you double up in hot agony. Not a dream, nor nightmare. You had little pink lines of scratch marks up one hip and over a shoulder and the sticky mess between your legs to prove it had all been terribly real. Well, not terrible. But certainly real. Quite clear now what had happened to all those other tenants.

Packing up and running as far and fast as you could seemed like an incredibly wise move. But you found, as you sat in yet another gently warm bath up to your chin, that you were not afraid. That instead you were craving, disappointed ever so slightly that you’d been used and left a sticky ruin without so much as a little cuddle or a bit of care for your tender state. Found yourself sliding a hand over the shape of your stomach throughout the day each time his words came hissing back to you softly. The house felt somehow warmer, too. More welcoming and less darkly menacing in its silent, looming way.

Besides, you could always change your mind. Why not stay one more night?

Part 2

#viktor #viktor x reader #viktor drabble #drabble request #viktor request #viktor arcane x reader #incubus viktor #monster viktor #viktor arcane #arcane ifc #viktor fic #art collab #ilu scribs #my sweet muse

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