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kit-williams · 5 months

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Rein Raus

LETS KICK OFF 2024 OFF RIGHT

Remember when I said I would use Powerwolf titles for Black Templars... well none of them fit for this.

Thank you to @bleepblood236 and @egrets-not-regrets for wanting and encouraging me to continue Brother Roland and his Bäckerin

Thank you @bispecsual for double checking this

tw: smut, yandere, religious overtones?, black templars, scent stuff? appreciation of musky males

There's POV switching from what is happening and what led up to it

Rein, raus Rein, raus Rein, raus

She threw her head back as she could not stop the moan that ripped from her throat as her eyes rolled back and drool ran down her chin. She tried her best to suck it back into her mouth but still some splatted against Roland's broad chest. Her hands pushing hard into the muscle gut as his Bäckerin did her best to lift her hips but it was so hard given how spread she was.

A hand of his rested on her thigh as he couldn't wait to fatten them back up. He remembers the way she was when they had first arrived how soft and curvy his Bäckerin looked... she had lost so much of her softness... he would make sure she was back to her old self. She was far too lost in the pleasure to see the dark look in his eyes as soon she would be in his room fat with his sons.

The xenos were dead... and she had finally made good on her offer of bread as soon as there were some supplies. Perhaps Roland had gotten some ingredients from the ship... she smelt so good... so FECUND he tasted the air running his tongue against the gland on the roof of his mouth as she had kneeded the dough. Of course it would take time before the bread was done so it gave him an excuse to get away from her before he pounced on her.

Roland wasn't a monster... he had to make sure that she wanted him. Even if it wasn't to the same extent that he wanted her... she could learn to feel the same a crumb of her love would sustain him he would starve until he could eat her whole. He bit into the warm bread trying to not moan as it was the same colored as the sunkissed skin of hers... like her thigh.

She offered to show him her home... she led him into the musty ruined home as she just smiled sadly at how others had gotten in... food rotting from the ripped open fridge. He kept close to her and even the smell of rotting food could not stop her smell from reaching him. He wanted to run his tongue at the source and smear it over his face. He wanted that scent stained onto a purity seal... stained onto a cloth he would bring with him and just to INHALE his Bäckerin scent.

She moaned as one of his hands wrapped around her throat and just held it. He didn't need to squeeze but he watched her eyes flutter as she pressed her throat against his hand. How his Bäckerin rutted against his cock deep inside of her, her breasts bounced, her drool running down his wrist... the way her eyes were half rolled back.

"Oh they didn't take them!" She says so happily as she pulls a box out compartment in the floor. She looks at the little box of treasures, Roland doesn't understand the sentiment of them but they mean something to her. He sits on the mattress on the floor, his eyes flicking between it and her and then to something that just reaks of her. "Oh sorry I was told I was probably going to come back... so I left my dirty laundry... probably contributing to the bad smell."

"It smells like you."

"I hope you're meaning that in a good way."

"I do. Bäckerin." He purred out his nickname for her and he watched her look to him. "Come here... klein Bäckerin."

His throat went dry as she crawled over to him. Her eyes wide and he could smell her. He felt his will start to falter. He could still clearly hear her screaming how she wanted to have babies... so many babies. If we was recalling correctly. His legs were spread as the rough material of his tunic did little to deter his pulsing between his legs. He had to bite his palm as she started to sniff the air... he was always told how intensely he could smell all that testosterone... it could be an unpleasant musky smell... like her potent pheromone smell that wasn't much of a smell but it just made part of his brain itch. A prior partner did not enjoy his "musk"... but his Bäckerin? He watched her breathing deepen... and her face break out into a blush. Why he had to bite his hand? She dove between his legs pressing her face against the rough material near his cock and just inhaling. Her feminine smell growing stronger. Before she pulled away looking ashamed. "My Lord... I'm sorry... you... you just smelled so good."

Rein, raus Rein, raus Rein, raus

He chanted in his head as his hips rolled against hers. Her face buried into his tunic... more importantly the spot that was around his crotch. She was moaning against the rough fabric as there was no way for either of them to deny what they were doing by this point. Oh at first she could have said that she had fallen face first into his crotch... his heavy hand pushing her on accident back in... they were going to pray... her poor breasts with their small scratches on them from the rough material of his tunic. Yet she seemed to hardly care just focused on him fucking her.

"Please tell me you're close." She whined having already gotten off three times just by him thrusting in. His smell was the only thing keeping her wet for him.

"Ja, Ich bin." His hands gripped her hips harder as he moved just a bit harder and faster. He finally feels that cord inside of him snap and he feels his toes curl as he pulls her hips to his slowly grinding against hers as he moans softly painting her insides.

"Oh by the throne...." His Bäckerin moaned as he pulled his tunic away from her and pulled her to his chest.

He held his Bäckerin close just running his fingers through her hair. He felt so complete in this moment. "Bäckerin..."

"Hmmm?" She hummed to him as her hand trailed along an old scar.

"Come with me." He states and feels his throat tighten as a beat passes. "Come with me... you can still bake your breads on the ship. Honestly my brothers and I would appreciate them more. I can give you what you want. I can give you those babies you want... my dearest Bäckerin... come with me." He said softly

Good Girl End

She looked to him and her eyes sparkled with joy. "Roland... but... I... I don't know what to say."

"Say yes Bäckerin." He whispers to her leaving tender kisses along the top of her head.

"How long until you go? I've got affairs to wrap up. I've got to make sure the family business stays in the family... Oh by the throne. Oh Roland!" Her arms wrap around his neck as she kisses him hard. "Yes... yes I'll follow you."

This is how Roland dreamed of getting his Bäckerin just wooing her with his strength and devotion... their bodies joining cleanly at the waist... and her saying yes. It was all perfect.

Too perfect if you ask me.

Bad End? Persuasion end Bad Girl End

She looked to him with concern in her eyes as she slowly shook her head. "Roland... I can't."

For Roland his world turned to a finite point and he could hear the snap of that reality breaking. He keeps a calm face but inside... inside he is screaming. This was not how it was to go... she was suppose to be swept away... he earned her. By the will of the God Emperor they both survived... he prayed for her death if it wasn't meant to be.

"I've got to find my family... rebuild my business and my life... all these petty little mortal worries." She looks ashamed as she sits up on his stomach, she rubs the back of her neck where not even an hour earlier she was wearing pretty pearls... in her joy to find her heirlooms. "I just... I just don't think it would work."

Roland forced his hearts to beat slowly as of course it was her being a mortal... looking at the wrong picture. He saw her look at him with a worried expression, "Please don't be mad." She whispers softly.

He gave her a tender look, "Oh meine Bäckerin I could never be mad at you. Ja... perhaps you're right I was so caught up with it all. C'mere." He purrs sitting up and she easily and willingly crawls back into his lap. She sighs happily as their naked flesh moves against each other before his hand moves up and over her mouth and nose. She tries to pull her head back but that fails and he watches her eyes widen with fear and panic as she starts to make muffled cries.

Roland sat there like a stone statue as she desperately clawed as his skin... as her muscles grew heavier... her small hands clawing at his wrists. "Bäckerin this hurts me so much more than you. You'll thank me liebe. I'll give you so many sons... so many babies." Roland coos into her ears as he watched her eyes roll back and waited before he released her mouth and nose.

She didn't snap awake but was still alive. He hummed as he grabbed several items she had deemed important including that box of heirlooms. He pulled a dress from her closet on over her... the sundress was a bit too showy for Roland's taste but it would only be for a short bit.

And when she would wake up he'd happily explain himself. She would certainly understand... it was the will of the God Emperor! She would have to understand that he had no choice.

And his will must be done.

#warhammer 40k #yandere #yandere Space Marine #Space Marine #Black Templar #Yandere Black Templar #tw: smut #tw: yandere #tw: religious themes #tw: kidnapping #Bäckerin #Brother Roland

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year

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May i request a wild ride with no. 15, 20 and 21 for Dean winchester? Rest is up to you. thanks and congrats on 3k, your stories are awesome😘❤

He Fell Harder

Dean Winchester x plus size reader

Dean finally gets his chance to tell her how he feels, after they escape a bunch of hungry ghouls of course

Warnings: canon level violence, kidnapping, mutual pining, implied smut, little bit of nudity, confessions

WC: 1.7k

Minors DNI

3000 Follower Celebration

Frustrated, you screamed at the solid iron door that sealed you into this hell-hole where you had been trapped for days or maybe it had been weeks, it was hard to tell. The walls surrounding you were cool to the touch. The smell of mould and mildew blanketing you as you slumped down to the concrete floor, consumed by the pitch black around you. You had no weapons, no plan, no escape. All you could do was sit here and wait for whatever the ghoul that jumped you had planned.

“Sweetheart?” The voice that floated through the vent far above your head sounded familiar, much like the voice of your best friend and the man you had been in love with since you saved him from a vamp three years ago.

“Dean?” You croaked, your head unconsciously tilting back as if it would allow you to hear him better. You hear him chuckle dryly, like he always did when he was anxious or unsure. Your heart fluttered, glad that you weren’t completely alone. “Boy am I glad to hear your dumb voice. How long have I been down here?”

There was a beat of silence. “You’ve been missing for almost two months.” He said bluntly and if you weren’t mistaken, with a tone of deep guilt. The air was knocked from your lungs.

“I’ve been here for that long?” You asked weakly, your body all of a sudden feeling incredibly tired and sore, like your willpower was ripped from you. Dean’s sigh carried through the humid air.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner sweetheart. These fuckers were smart, they even got the work-around Sammy.”

“And you?” You playfully asked, getting a groan in return. “How the fuck did some lousy ghouls get the jump on the great Dean Winchester?” The chill from the concrete wall at your back was slowly seeping through the measly layers you had on and yet you didn’t want to move away.

“I was distracted.” He replied simply and you could almost see the way his plump lower lip jutted out in a toddler-like pout. “It’s not my fault.”

You giggled half-heartedly as you brought your knees up to your chest. “Whatever could distract you must be pretty fucking magnificent.”

“Yeah she is.” He murmured lowly, but you heard him all the same. Your heart dropped to your stomach. You should’ve expected it, Dean was famous for his womanising, even going so far as to abandon a hunt for a night with a gorgeous woman.

“Tell me about her.” You knew it would hurt, that listening to him talk about this mysterious woman would tear you apart, but you needed the comfort of his voice right now.

Dean cleared his throat. “Well she’s insanely attractive. I mean just legs for days and an ass that would make a grown man cry. Don’t even get me started on how absolutely gorgeous her eyes are.” You scoffed at his crudeness but he only chuckled and continued. “But more than that, she’s crazy smart and she’s by far the kindest person I’ve ever met. She’s a little dumb, I mean who challenges me to a pie-eating contest! And even more than that, she’s my best friend and I would do anything for her, including getting kidnapped by a bunch of ghouls just so I could hear her voice again.”

With each word he spoke, the heat in the derelict dungeon seemed to grow. Warmth crawled up your neck, settling on the apple of your cheeks. “And right now, all I care about is how quiet she is after I just spilled my damn heart out to her.”

“Dean-“ You started but were quickly interrupted by the door to your cell slamming open and bright light flooding in. A shadowy figure loomed in the entryway, the stench of blood and rotting guts following them like some sick perfume. “Dean!” You screeched as you attempted to scramble to the furthest corner of the room.

The light glinted off its teeth. “Oh the sweet smell of fear.” It cooed. “Makes the meat so much more tender.”

There was a thudding from the wall. “Don’t you dare fucking touch her!” It just rolled its eyes at Dean’s protest.

The uneven concrete cut into your palms as you planted your feet so you could jump the ghoul before it got too close. It smirked, as if it already knew you were too weak to do anything. “Y/N!” Your legs trembled as you put more of your weight on them, threatening to give out at any moment.

The ghoul snarled. “He won’t be able to help you now.” It darted at you.

Feigning to the left, you narrowly missed its claws. The ghoul slammed painfully into the wall behind where you just were. There was a grizzly-sounding crunch and then a brief moment of silence. You attempted to stand but your knees buckled and you slammed back into the floor. But you couldn’t stop moving, not when it quickly righted itself and began towards you again. “You bitch!” It hissed.

As desperation sank into your bones, you began to crawl towards the open door. The muscles in your arms screamed but you had to get out. A hand closed around your ankle and tugged you backwards, sending you sprawling on the ground. “Get off!” You kicked back, but after months with limited food, it served to only push its jaw away from your leg.

“Y/N!” Dean’s voice was muffled and far away, barely audible over the loud banging that reverberated through the halls, or was it your head? It was hard to tell. Weakly, you clawed for anything you could use as a weapon, the ghoul steadily getting dangerously close to you.

Your vision spun as you were suddenly on your back, the ghoul hovering above you. “I think I’m going to make this last. Eat you nice and slow, make your boyfriend listen to every scream that comes out of that stupid mouth of yours. And then, right as you’re about to die from either the pain or the blood-loss, I’ll bring him over so he can watch as the light fades from your eyes.”

Its face got closer and closer, and then, it was gone. The weight was yanked from your chest with a blur of red and black plaid, the ghoul’s screeching making your head throb. There was the sound of cracking bones, and then nothing.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” You hadn’t realised that you passed out until you opened your eyes. Cringing at the bright light above you, you groaned and buried your face in your soft arms.

“Too bright.”

“Shit, yeah, just one sec.” The light flicked off and you breathed a sigh of relief. Now that it was darker, you felt more confident in opening your eyes once more. The sight you were greeted with was one that you were used to- the shitty decorations, dusty mattress below and couch that should have been torched 20 years ago. You were safe.

“How’d you get us out? Wait how the fuck am I even alive? I was sure that I was toast.” Dean appeared in your eye-line then as he plopped down on the bed beside you. His green eyes were bloodshot and he had dark bags beneath them.

“If we’re being honest, I don’t really remember. I remember you screaming and then I was pounding on the door trying to get to you and somehow it just caved in. The last thing I remember is beating that fucker’s face in.” Your eyebrows scrunched.

“Dean, there was a whole pack of them. There’s no way you killed all of them while also having to drag me out of there.” He scoffed and laid down next to you, taking your hand into his own.

“I don’t know what to tell you sweetheart. But we’re out and you’re safe, that’s the only thing that matters.” Your fingers intertwined and you pulled his hand to your chest.

“Your safety matters too D.” He shook his head, his dirty blond hair now sticking up messily. He squeezed your fingers.

“Not when it comes to you.” Dean’s eyes flicked to your lips. “I would do anything to keep you safe.”

The tip of your nose brushed against his as his free hand came up to cup your full cheek. “You’re my everything.” And then he kissed you.

Slow and sweet, barely even a peck but as you tried to pull him closer to you, desperate for him, Dean rolled on top of you. His strong body fit beautifully between your plush thighs, his weight on top of you being a comfort rather than the terror from the ghoul’s. Your arms wound around his neck as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss even more.

“Dean.” You moaned into his mouth as the hand that was once holding yours now rested on your wide hip, pinning you to him. He groaned at the strung-out sound of your voice.

“Fuck baby. Can I see you?” You nodded but still whined as he pulled away from you. He smirked confidently. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m right here.” His touch skirted beneath your skirt, sending ripples of anticipation through you. The fabric followed his rough hands, slowly creeping up, exposing your body to him in a way that you had both only dreamed about.

Dean sucked in a breath as he finally pulled the shirt from you, leaving you in just a bra. “Holy shit you’re gorgeous.” You smiled bashfully in return.

“Your turn.” Moving faster than you’ve ever seen, Dean ripped all of his layers off in one go, throwing the small pile of fabrics over his shoulder like they had burned him. “Damn Winchester, how have you been hiding all this from me for so long?” Your fingers traced up the softness of his belly, coming to rest above his heart, right where his tattoo was.

“Believe me sweetheart, if it were up to me, you could’ve seen this two years ago.” He reached for your jeans, unbuttoning them quickly so he could shuck them down your shapely legs.

“Two years!” You yelped, “We’ve known each other for three!” He looked away sheepishly, focusing on the panties that still covered you.

“Not my fault. You were goddamn terrifying.” You scoffed as he settled between your legs, throwing them over his broad shoulders.

“Yeah well you’re just scared of powerful women. Let me tell you-“

“Sweetheart, sweetheart. Will you just shut up and let me go down on you?” He pleaded, tugging at the cotton that stretched across your pelvis.

Your mouth snapped shut. “Good, now let me eat.”

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underground-secret · 4 months

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The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: Just before they leave Kansas the group decides to eat and rest before continuing, giving Y/N the time she needs to visit her mother’s gravestone.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, dead parent, visiting a graveyard, lonely, angst with a happy ending (the happy ending almost didn’t happen)

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44

Word Count: 2022

Reunion

(Master list, Previous ch, Next ch)

I sit in the backseat of the Impala, the wind blowing from the open window, messing up my hair and the book I have in my lap. My spell book. I look down at the hard brown book, only minutes ago did I have a small fight with Dean about what to do with it but even now the urge to do something itches at my bones.

With a small huff I open my bag pulling out a pen before flipping open to the page, on the top left corner I write “April 2005–bags did not work on a house haunted with a poltergeist.” The small warning did nothing to ease me but it would have to do for now, because to rip the page would be to destroy a piece of my mother and a piece of myself.

Dean was right, I'm not afraid to admit that, I am afraid to admit, however, that I acted harshly to his remarks. I knew I shouldn’t have reacted like that, I knew it even in the moment but the words left me too quickly for any rationale to hit me. I felt bad, it must have been hard for him to see his mom again and then there I was causing an argument to rub salt in a wound. Most of all I pity myself for getting like that, an awful anger festering in my gut.

"Hey, how 'bout we grab a bite and take a breather?" Dean suddenly speaks, breaking the silence of the car. I look up from my lap, where the book rested, I meet his eyes in the rear view mirror giving a small nod. I was hoping we would stop somewhere for a while so I could sneak away and visit someone. Sam agrees too so we drive on for a while.

I watch the view from my window the whole time, watching the trees and buildings go by when it suddenly becomes very familiar. I don’t know if it was on purpose or not but we pulled right up in front of my favorite diner, I always went there it had become a go-to very quickly. Different memories flash in my mind to the many times I went with my brother, friends, and even Dean. It’s then that I think it must have been on purpose but instead of happiness filling me it’s a sort of dred.

Even so nothing more is said as we exit the car, but just as I close the door behind me I say, “You guys go ahead, I'm not hungry.”

Dean gives me a confused look but it’s Sam that speaks up, “Do you want us to save you something?”

“No no it’s okay, thanks” I shake my head, clutching the strap of my bag to me. “Could you just text me whatever motel we’ll be staying at, in case I come back and you're not here”

“Where ‘you heading off to?” Dean asks, confusion and concern written in his eyes.

“Oh, I’m just gonna walk around” I half lie with a tight lipped smile to finish it off. Still Dean looks at me skeptically, which I suppose is completely fair, but he doesn't say anything about my blatant lie either. With a simple bye I walk away swiftly, feeling the burn of their gaze on me, only slowing down when I'm out of sight.

My feet guide me, the route so familiar I could do it blindfolded. I spent so many years in this town, and yet it all seems so foreign. It was like I was walking back in time directly toward my past, except nothing is exactly as I remembered it to be. I hate to admit it but I never thought I’d be doing this again.

At each crossroad I wait at, my heart feels like it’s being squeezed. A desperate sadness filling my lungs, how was it possible for something to be so familiar yet so foreign? It didn’t make sense. Yes time changes all things, and yet I think I expected it to still be the same like it couldn’t possibly change because this is where I grew up. Maybe it was because I never thought of this place anymore, hadn’t needed too. My past died here and I moved on because it was the only thing left to do. I never came back, never visited, never wondered what my friends who I met here were doing.

It hurt too much to think of Kansas when out of all the wonderful memories only the worst ones stuck out, branding itself to this place I called home.

I slow to a stop in front of a flower shop, the same one I always went to. I enter the small establishment, the bell ringing as I open the door. The strong aroma of all sorts of flowers hitting my nose, I don’t need to look around to know exactly what I want. What I came for.

I walked up to the counter immediately noticing the owner wasn't behind it, I remembered she always was and she even refused to hire any workers because this was her store and she didn’t want any “hooligans” to ruin her work. I have to remind myself that it’s been years, not a week or a month but years since I’ve been here. She probably retired or…no. I won’t let myself think that.

I leave with my bouquet of forget me-nots and white roses, my moms two favorite flowers. I hold the assortment gently as I continue my long walk. My mother loved forget me-nots she would gush over the meaning and the many poems and analogies she had heard, she was a romantic so the meaning was never lost on her. I definitely got that from her.

Eventually I arrive at the cemetery, the large black gate creaking as I push it open. I carry on the path taking a couple twists and turns before arriving at the gravestones. It was unkempt with dead leaves covering it, the sight alone made me want to cry. I wipe away the leaves that lay on top of it, using my shirt to clear the dirt from her name not caring about it getting dirty. I sit criss-cross right in front of her, “Hi mommy” I smile sadly, tears already filling my eyes. “I brought you flowers” I lift them slightly in emphasis.

Feeling it to be too improper to just lie them down, I produce a glass vase filled with water. Carefully I take the plastic wrapping off the bouquet, freeing the flowers from their restraint before placing them in the vase just beside her grave stone.

I let out a heavy sigh, “I missed you…I’m sorry I haven’t visited you since I moved away”

“God.” I sigh, looking up to the blue sky, fluffy clouds scattered over it, trying to prevent the tears from falling.

“You know” I laugh sadly, looking back at her, “This whole time we were here I planned on seeing you and I thought of so many things i’d like to tell you about, but now.…” I breathe out. “I don’t know.”

“There’s hardly a day that goes by in which I don’t miss you, It’s gotten easier since, well, you know.”

“But being here.” My voice trembles, “I feel as if I could lose my mind to the grief, I thought I was past that. Past being so…lost. Alone?”

I laugh, tears falling from my eyes, “I could really use one of your hugs right now”

I wiped my face, my cheeks feeling stiff from the tears, “I met your friend Missouri, she’s great, I'm surprised you or dad never mentioned her before.”

“Um. I’m with the Winchesters right now, helping ‘em out” I tell her, trying to think of the positives right now instead of the squeezing of my heart.

I swallow down a sob, my throat feeling tight with emotion once more, “I know you’d like to hear all the good in my life but being here, I can’t— I just. I miss you”

“I don’t care if that’s redundant when it’s the truth, I just…I’m so lonely” A sob breaks through my lips, and the tears flow down my face rapidly only this time I don’t try and conceal it. “That sounds so horrible to say because I’m with people I love and care so deeply for, yet something feels wrong. Something is missing and I don't feel quite whole.”

More tears fall, my eyes blur with it. Her gravestone and the flowers turn into a gray, green, blue, and white mix. “Have you ever felt that way?” I ask her even though I know I won’t get a response.

I sit there in silence for a few moments not really knowing what to say or what to do. I don’t want to leave just yet because I don’t know when I’ll be back, and to leave would feel like turning my back on her all over again. I scoot the way I sit so that my back is resting on the side of her gravestone with my legs extended in front of me. I lean my head to the side to rest on the frigid stone.

“I figure I’d find you here” A deep familiar voice suddenly says. My eyes shoot up from my fingers, watching Dean's approaching figure, a cup of something in each hand. I swiftly sit up, wiping at my face quickly trying to remove any evidence that I'd been crying, “What are you doing here.”

“Well Sammy bailed on me for some beauty sleep after you left. Noticed you were off, especially when you skipped out on one of your favorite diners.

‘Figured you’d end up here.” He’s closer now only a few paces away, I stand up to meet him. I don’t understand why he came or how he even remembered where her grave would be, “No offense but why’d you come here?”

He shrugs all nonchalantly, “Didn’t want you to be alone.” It was sweet he was here but it almost felt awkward, like this was too private of a moment. “I can leave if you want” He offers, sensing my hesitance.

“No! no it’s okay, thank you for coming, that's really sweet of you.” I spill out quickly, leaving out the part that my mom wouldn’t mind him being here either.

He shrugs again, “You’d do the same for me.”

“Also, I brought you a milkshake for old time sake. Wasn’t sure what flavor you’d go for, but knowing how indecisive you are anyway I got you a vanilla chocolate mix thing.” He extendeds one of the blue paper cups towards me and I knew he got them from the diner.

I take the cup from him, the coolness immediately seeping into my hand, “You know me well” I smile looking down at the milkshake not being able to meet his eyes. Now sweet wasn’t even the right word to describe him, he brought us milkshakes because when we hung out we would almost always go to a diner and get them with fries or a whole meal depending.

“I told you I did” He responds, reminding me again of our previous “fight.”

I look back at my moms grave, the flowers I brought sitting in the vase somehow the scene feeling lighter now. “We can stay, drink these here, if you want.” He offers, again sensing what I’m thinking.

I turn my head back towards him, this time meeting his green eyes, “No it’s okay.” And it was, I knew my mom would want this. She would want me to walk away now when I was happier and with someone I loved—that romantic in her shining through again. He nods and we begin to walk away, I take a sip of the milkshake, “God that’s good” I smile and he laughs.

We walk silently mostly, “Sorry about before, with the spell book. You were right.”

He swings his free arm around my shoulder tugging me closer to his side, “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

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cannibal-wings · 22 days

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WIP Wed for You Pay the Cost.

Been a while huh? Sorry about that, I've been furiously rewriting this section. (this is my third full rewrite of this sequence). It's been gnawing at me, it wasn't quite right before. But now I think it is.

Ok, this is a bit of the Water Room/Hall section. Just a bit. The sequence is long and I don't want to share the whole thing.

Trigger warning for my namesake. Leon eats a guy. (It was bound to happen eventually)

He yanked enough control back for himself to leap back to the pillar and then across to the overlook next to him. He made short work of those archers too. His knife was just as deadly as his claws and felt better to use, like the haze was lifting slightly from his mind. His heart had stopped roaring in his ears and he felt like for just a moment, he was going to be ok. Then he heard Ashley scream and all semblance of humanity fled him in an instant.

Leon jumped from the railing and landed hard on the back of a cultist, if he didn’t die on impact the foot claw to his throat finished the job. He looked from the various cultists that were gathered around him. Reinforcements from deeper within the castle. They all brandished weapons, spiked flails and shields, long, curved scythes, and a couple daggers.

Leon ignored them all and searched for Ashley, he spotted her running along the perimeter of the room, someone was chasing her. He bellowed out another roar. It was enough to make the cultists flinch. Leon started to move, he felt different, he felt predatory, his hands weren’t reaching for the guns strapped to his back, nor the knife that was missing from its sheath.

A blade dug into his side, one of the scythes. A cultist had managed to get a hold of herself and struck him, she managed to hit a spot that was still soft, the carapace underneath his shirt hadn’t fully moved in and hardened over that spot. It was luck. The last bit of luck her life held. Leon spun on her, grabbed the blade and yanked it free from his body with a hiss. Then with another hand he grabbed the shaft of the weapon and pulled. For a second, she tried to fight back, her hands gripped her weapon instead of letting go. This got her within striking range. Leon stepped on the scythe, snapping the shaft in half and raised his own scythe like claws. She was dead before she even realized she was in danger. One claw sliced across her throat while the other spilled her guts to the floor.

Leon looked away from the gore and back to the edge of the room. He spotted Ashley, she had lifted her bolt thrower and shot at the person pursuing her. He growled low in his throat, deep, and started to stalk over to her side. But he stopped when the person went down and Ashley again ducked behind the safety of a pillar. He felt a smile break across his lips. She didn’t need him, not right now at least. That meant he had all the time in the world to finish up what he was doing.

He spun on the cultists who had started to advance. That grin only grew wider, he could feel his jaws split and his mandibles pull away from his face. Leon moved much faster now, almost too fast for his mind to catch up, instead he started to rely on instinct, and let his body move without his input. He was able to dodge another scythe, he turned out of its reach and one of his secondary arms lifted itself to block a dagger, he heard the sound of metal and sharp claw clash. He kept his momentum and jumped straight over the heads of two of the shield wielding cultists. From behind he raked his claws across their back, he could feel them snag on bone from the spinal column and he ripped.

Humans, he was quickly learning, were very, very soft. Even infected humans. They were soft and weak and so easy to play with. Now that he was stronger, now that he couldn’t be hurt easily, it was the perfect time to begin to test his own abilities. He licked his lips and swallowed. The sweetness of the water still lingered, he wanted to replace it.

A cultist with a dagger tried to stab him in the back, the blade bounced harmlessly off and Leon turned. The cultist took a step back, his eyes full of fear. Leon could see that he was fighting with himself, trying to decide if he should hold his ground or run. Leon made the choice for him. He disarmed him with a quick slash to the wrist, his claw carving straight through the man’s arm, detaching the hand completely. It fell to the floor but Leon could hardly hear it over the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears. He flared his jaws and advanced on the man. The cultist had a hand over his stump, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. He looked back at Leon and screamed.

The scream was cut short when Leon’s outer mandibles covered part of his face, neck, and shoulder as he bit down. He opened his inner set of jaws, feeling them spread wide too as he chewed through the skin and muscle. The strength in the cultist’s legs fled and he tried to drop to the ground. Leon felt the weight shift and shoved his two clawed fingers into the torso of the man to hold him up. That sickly sweet taste was finally covered up with an addicting salty wash of blood. The cultist under his jaws had died, the last weak pumps of blood faded. He had likely been choked out, either by Leon’s jaws or his own blood.

Leon didn’t mind, the body was still warm, and he was hungry. So hungry. He hadn’t realized just how so until just now. Suddenly all that mattered was filling his gut. He wondered if just one cultist was going to be enough? He had his face buried in the man and didn’t see the other cultists backing up, giving him space. He also wasn’t aware of the archers as they all took aim. If they hadn’t begun to fire upon him, there’s no telling how long Leon would have stayed and feasted.

The arrows peppered his back, and a few of them wormed their way in between his plates. Lucky shots that finally pulled his attention away from the corpse he was eating. It was the smell of singed fabric that got him to look up. The pain from the arrows he hardly felt. Leon dropped the body; it landed in a crumpled heap by his feet. A large portion of the man’s neck, shoulder, and chest were missing. Leon’s jaws dripped with red instead of black this time. He licked his lips but there was too much to clean off, it was just spread around his face. He shook his head and sent droplets flying. More arrows rained down him, he noticed several cultists picked up shields and held them up. Leon simply raised his arms while he looked for a perfect angle of attack.

While he still couldn’t reach their level in one jump, he could grab hold of a decorative banner that was strung up between two of the balconies. It held his weight as he climbed it, his claws leaving tears in the luxurious fabric. Arrows continued to zip past him. Some bounced harmlessly off of his back plates, others caught the fabric, but most missed and hit the wall in front of him. Leon ignored them, they weren’t a threat to him, not a real one, but they could hurt her and that was unacceptable.

He made his way up to the stone railing and hauled himself up and over. At close range the archers were nearly useless. They couldn’t get an accurate shot off, and Leon’s carapace deflected most of the energy in the bolts if they did hit. He growled low under his breath when one did strike him in the chest, but the tip didn’t penetrate, it didn’t even crack his shell. Leon quickly cut them both down. With a loud roar he put one leg up on the railing and looked out over the water hall. He could feel that the cultists were regretting attacking them. He saw the way they shrunk back, how they flinched when he roared.

The stone under his feet cracked as he pushed off and leapt to the next balcony. He felt invincible. He felt good. As he tore apart more archers, he wondered why he ever resisted in the first place? It was a gift and he had been foolish to squander it. He was confident he could protect her now, and forever.

Ashley kept moving along the perimeter of the room. She kept herself out of the line of fire of the archers up top, but she also got the feeling that she wasn’t their target. A loud roar reverberated through the room. She clutched her ears at the sound. It wasn’t like anything she had ever heard before; no animal came close. It was like something out of a science fiction or horror movie. One-part velociraptor screech and one-part big cat roar. After the initial roar it would taper off into a vibrating growl.

She couldn’t spot Leon, he had vanished from view, and she only hoped that whatever it was that made that sound hadn’t torn him apart. There were bodies everywhere. She could still hear the sounds of combat, they were still after something, and the couple cultists that tailed her, told her all she needed to know about the situation. It wasn’t over. Worry was starting to creep over her when another horrible growling roar overtook the chanting of the cultists. She hadn’t heard a gunshot in what felt like ages.

Ashley was moving quickly, away from the edge of the room that dropped off to the second floor. She didn’t like the idea of accidentally going over the edge. But when she rounded the corner to the other side she stopped. There was a cultist with a shield, he was backing up himself, taking cover from something. Then he spotted her and began to hurry towards her. He was speaking something in Spanish to her, that she couldn’t understand. It wasn’t chanted, it almost seemed normal. He was afraid of something and kept pointing up to the balconies above them.

“Leon?” Ashley called out and moved back. In the back of her head, she had considered the thought that it was Leon who was responsible for the state of the room. But she also reasoned that if it was him, then this level of brutality was necessary. The man was still walking towards her, he was still trying to say something to her. By this point another had joined him. This woman wasn’t trying to speak to her though, she was just interested in doing her job.

Ashley hefted her bolt thrower up, it was loaded. She had already taken someone down and retrieved her used bolt. Later she could sort through her thoughts on that action. But right now, she needed to make sure she survived long enough to make it that far. She was confident she could take out the one without the shield, but there was no way her bolts were getting through that thick wood.

Wordlessly she aimed and fired. Her first shot went high and to the side, it dug into the cultist’s arm and she howled in pain. She gripped the shaft of the arrow with one hand and started to pull. Ashley quickly readied another shot and fired. This one missed completely and she took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure if she’d have time to reload, she had to make this last one count. Leon’s words ran through her head and she tried to imitate what he did, how he fired. Strong through her core, through her upper body. Don’t hold your breath, have steady arms. When the woman looked up Ashley shot. This time the bolt went straight into her chest. She dropped to the ground.

Ashley had made it to the opposite wall, she was still wary of the archers above her, but her main focus was on the man with the shield who was still moving towards her. “Leon!” She called his name hoping he could hear her over his own fighting. She would need help with this one, she knew it. Ashley dug bolts out of her bag and began to feed them into the bolt thrower. Maybe she’d talk to the Merchant next time they met about that extended magazine, because three shots were not cutting it. “Leon!” she tried calling out again, a bit of panic creeping into her voice. “Leon I need help!”

The man was too close for comfort now, she debated running straight across to the room to the other side, to put real distance between them while she figured out another plan. She was going to call Leon’s name again but as the words left her mouth something rammed into the man with the shield and pinned him against the wall.

The man had only moments to adjust the shield in a way that let him turtle up behind it, hiding all of his appendages while he sank lower to the ground. Leon snarled and began to tear at the shield with his claws, they left deep gouge marks in the wood. Ashley watched, stunned, as Leon threw himself at the shield, jaws snapping, as the man pleaded.

Leon managed to tear a hole in the shield and he shoved his hand inside to make it bigger. He wanted to be able to rip the shield in two, split it, but his hand was too large to fit inside. He growled in frustration, the motion vibrating his whole throat and chest. The strong wood of the shield was preventing him from getting his kill and he was getting beyond frustrated. He shoved his body weight against the shield, pressing the man into the wall. Then he backed off and heaved himself against the shield again, and again. Then went back at it with his claws. Each one tearing chunks of wood away.

Ashley watched him work at it. She shook her heard. “No,” she whispered. “No that’s not Leon, that’s not… that’s not Leon.” The creature in front of her wasn’t a man, it was a monster. If it wasn’t for the guns still strapped to his back, he would have been unrecognizable to her. He was covered in blood, it dripped from his jaws, it ran down his arms, and coated his hands. That roar she heard earlier was him. The thing that ripped apart the bodies around this room was him. “Leon stop!”

Immediately he froze and turned to look at Ashley. She gasped and ducked back behind the pillar. Her heart was hammering in her chest. The way he looked at her, for just a moment, like she was something to be hunted. Again, she thought, that isn’t Leon. She tried to steady her breathing, calm herself down. When she poked her head around the pillar he was still standing there. He was still looking her direction, only now he seemed thoroughly confused. He tilted his head slightly, his pedipalps raising a bit. The glow in his eyes dulled. “Leon?”

She watched as he opened his mouth, but no words came out, just a warbling sound, and a soft growl. Then the man with the shield decided to act and shattered the brief moment of peace. He pushed off the wall and rammed Leon with the shield. The movement caught Leon off guard and his feet slipped on the wet tile. He could feel himself hit the railing and lean back over it. But he didn’t go in. Two of his hands gripped the rail and his head whipped back to face the cultist. He let out another roar and spread his mandibles wide.

Ashley moved back behind the pillar and put her hands to her ears to block out the sound of screaming and flesh tearing. The wooden shield had snapped loudly, Leon had gotten through, and she wasn’t brave enough to look at what he was doing to that poor man.

---

Hopefully I don't rewrite this bit again. I really wanna nail this feral side of him, and I keep going back and changing things slightly, and redoing parts.

oh ho ho what could have caused this????? Why is he acting like that?? Will he come back to his senses??? I know these answers and soon you will too!

The estimate of getting an update done by tomorrow was uh, hopeful. It's not going to happen. I'm hosting some friends tonight, and I have DnD tomorrow. I still have to rewrite the whole fight with the Garrador after I lost it two weeks ago (I was so mad I just skipped it and started to rewrite Water Room), and I have to do the treasure puzzle room too. Then it's just the last scene after Water Hall. I'm like, 70% done with the chapter, but I don't think I can pump it out tomorrow. So it'll be a few more days.

#WIP Wed #You Pay the Cost #Resident Evil #Leon Kennedy #Ashley Graham #Verdugo Leon AU #TW blood and gore #TW cannibalism #Is it really cannibalism if he's not a human anymore lmao

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 4 months

Note

Omg you love slashers too?? What do you think about Billy Lenz in Black Christmas or Thomas Hewitt from Texas Chainsaw Massacre??

Rat Man and Giant Teddy Bear

Instead of going into how much I love Black Christmas, let's talk about these dirty, dirty men.

I love scrawny rat men. Will he molest me? Will he stab me? Who knows, and frankly, who cares. If I can get a squeeze of his tiny little ass in before I'm sent to hell, it will have been worth it. I'm no masochist (debatable) but men who act like they'll peel off my skin just because they think I'm pretty make me want to be locked in a tiny cage. And if you have a dehumanizing kink, even better, because Billy will call you a piggy and a whore but probably never by your name ❤️

Stalk me, harass me, threaten to eat me out, masturbate into my pillows, and then after all that foreplay, rip me open and play with my guts? Sounds like a date.

And Thomas..

Yeah, he's a cannibal, but he can eat this ass

He's a giant of a man, and I don't understand how that could ever be an insult. I want him to sit on my lap so I can hold him like a giant stuffed animal, I do not care if he hurts my legs. He has the filth of a rat man, with his luscious locks that need to be washed and blood stains that will never come out, but the air of a man who'd be scared of pushing your boundaries (like a gentleman). And imagine getting your back snapped in half by him, both sexually and not. Sure, his life style feels like Christian based, trad wife, barefoot in the kitchen with a baby on your back, making human stew, you're never leaving this house, kind of life, but would it be worth it? Maybe. Even without a uterus, even if you were the more dominant in the bedroom, I feel like you would be delegated to house spouse duties, simply because Thomas would love you too much for you to get blood on your hands.

Thomas brings out my "I can save him" side, where as Billy makes me want to be broken down like the pig that I am.

Oink oink.

#thank you for interacting with me #billy lenz #thomas hewitt #impure thoughts #slashers #rat man #cw degradation #i fucking love horror #these two #black christmas #is a holiday classic and without it we may have never gotten a lot of the slasher genre #it inspired the final girl trope and the first person perspective they used at the beginning of Halloween

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belltari · 7 months

Text

Happy (early) Halloween!!

I finished editing this today but I couldn't wait until Halloween to post it so here it is, an EXTREMELY self indulgent ghoap sex-in-the-closet Halloween fic.

If you're under 18, you shouldn't be reading it.

warnings & tags: plot with porn (a halloween party, its what the boys deserve), terrible dad jokes, flirty banter, established relationship (I'm imagining that it's still new, like only Price knows and Gaz is putting the pieces together), some dom!ghost tones (nothing too dominant), pleasure dom!Simon (that man just wants Johnny to feel good), public sex (it's a blowjob in a closet), face rutting, cum eating, someone gets called a "good boy" a couple of times

it's about 3 thousand-ish words

This was my first time writing something this explicit, so please keep in mind that I have a lot to learn. The other writers in the cod fandom are excellent teachers and inspire me a great deal.

If you just want to read the porn, start reading after the ' -- '

Anyways, I hope you enjoy and have a great rest of your spooky season!

Approaching the mess hall, Johnny chuckles at the purple and orange 'Happy Halloween!' banner hanging above the doorway, it's very clearly homemade with streaky paint and clumpy glitter making up the words and what looks like an old, tattered tarp as the banner. He wonders if it was a team-building exercise for the recruits, as this whole party was a mixer for them to get to know each other better.

Paper party streamers act as a curtain on the wide doorframe, blocking Johnny's view of the interior of the mess hall, he can feel the bass of the music thumping in his chest and hear cheerful laughter from the other side. Pushing the curtain aside, he steps through to see the short corridor has been decorated. Plastic bats with light-up red eyes hang on strings from the ceiling, jack-o'-lantern string lights flickering along the walls accompanied with signs with sayings like "enter if you dare" and "turn back" written on them. When he gets to the end, he surveys the now-repurposed dining hall, more streamers, banners, and cheap plastic decorations decorate the room. The lights have been turned off and the windows covered, floodlights and spotlights covered with coloured transparent pieces of plastic are the only lights illuminating the room creating a dramatic scene.

Several tables are being used as pumpkin carving stations, one of the recruits is ripping the guts out and complaining about the smell, and another is stabbing their pumpkin with a hunting knife. Gaz is there, dressed as a vampire with a long cape and plastic fangs in his mouth, to supervise. He's laughing with them telling them they need to work on their techniques a bit more when he catches Soap's eye giving him a smile and a quick wave, he returns the gesture and continues scanning the room.

He turns to where the music is coming from, tables cleared from the corner creating a makeshift dancefloor. Recruits dressed as ghouls, goblins, witches, and all sorts of different costumes grind and dance together to the music, drinks in hand, and smiles on their faces. 'No better team bonding than getting absolutely shit-faced together' Soap thinks to himself with a grin across his face. He notices Price standing with a group of other captains and lieutenants, he's got a glass of whiskey in one hand and is using the other to help animate whatever story he's got everyone laughing at. Price is dressed in a tri-corn hat with a tall feather sticking out of the side and a knee-length red coat with gold adornments on the sleeves and lapels. 'Gotta be Captain Morgan' Soap smiles, shaking his head. Price notices him, giving Soap a smile and a quick nod which Soap returns.

Finally, he spots the man he was looking for, his broad back facing away from him. Soap approaches walking up to grab a drink next to Ghost. He has his balaclava rolled up to his nose, a half-eaten cupcake in one hand, and a plate of other confections in the other. "Thought you'd put a little more effort in L.T.." Soap says as twists open the bottle of beer he's picked up and turns to smile at Ghost.

Ghost is wearing his normal skull balaclava and skeletal gloves, but his 'costume' has the addition of a hoodie with the skeletal system of a torso and arms.

"Didn’t put much effort in 'cause my heart just wasn’t in it." Ghost response points to his chest where his heart would be.

Soap snorts. "Bet you've been waiting to say that all night."

"Gotta 'nother one for ya."

"Go on then."

"Why are skeletons so calm?" He pauses. "Because nothing gets under their skin."

"Ugh please no more." Soap says in a playful tone shaking his head.

"What are you supposed to be then?" Ghost asks, pointing to Soap while eating the rest of his cupcake.

"Thought it was obvious? The fluffy tail and ears, the roguishly good looks?" Soap pauses, looking at Ghost with a wolfish grin. "C'mon Ghost, I thought you were good at this?"

Ghost eyes rake over Soap’s form. Starting at his furry-eared headband, then down to his bright red collar around his neck. He pauses there for a second, Soap can see his Adam’s apple bob under his balaclava, before continuing further down to his distressed dress shirt that he’s left open at the top exposing his chest, he’s half tucked in his shirt to his jeans that he often wears on ops, the ones that hug his hips and thighs just right. And between his legs, a dark furry tail hangs ending just above his knees.

"Oh, I see you're one of those yappy little lap dogs."

"Oh aye. I'm very territorial and I never shut up. Watch your ankles L.T., I always go for those." Soap says stepping closer to Ghost. He looks down at the collar he's wearing, lifting his eyes back up, over Johnny's chin, to his smirking lips then setting on his bright blue eyes.

"Hmm" Ghost hums. "And is he a good boy too?" He said as he bites into a ghost-shaped sugar cookie.

"Depends on who's giving the orders, sir." Soap looks up through his lashes at Ghost, taking a swig of his drink.

Ghost looks around to make sure no one is paying any mind to them. When he's sure no one is, he hooks a finger under the collar pulling Soap even closer. He then leans into Soap's ear and whispers "Be a good boy then and go to the utility closet, lock the door, and don't open it until you hear three knocks of a beating heart." He doesn't wait for Johnny to respond before pulling away and walking over to Price, where Gaz has now joined him at the other end of the room.

Soap takes a deep breath, downing the rest of his drink, and grabs another one before joining the rest of 141.

When he approaches, Gaz is in the middle of telling Price about the pumpkin carving recruits and their 'interesting' techniques. But Soap's not listening, he's watching Ghost eat another cookie, licking the crumbs from the corner of his lip, laughing at something Price had said.

Soap's face gets hot, he downs a couple mouthfuls of his beer to try and cool down. "You good, Soap?" Gaz asks smiling at him.

"Aye, but this beer isn't. Has to be the weakest thing I've ever drank."

"It's probably a lot better than at piss tequila you drink." Ghost jokes.

"Think I'll go find ya some then LT. Maybe I can get you to come round to it." Soap winks at Ghost and turns to leave, only to be stopped by another captain holding a camera. "Group shot for the books, boys?" She asks. Soap looks over his shoulder at Price as he answers "Alright, come on then," waving the boys closer.

Price throws his arms over Gaz and Ghost's shoulders, Ghost rolls his balaclava back down over his jaw and Soap takes his place on the end next to him, snaking an arm around his back placing his hand on Ghost's waist.

"Say 'Happy Halloween!" The captain says as she readies to take the picture. Soap throws up the peace sign and the boys say the words the captain wanted when the camera flashes.

She comes over to show them the picture, they all look happy, even Ghost looks like he's smiling under his mask. They deserve a break like this after their last op. They move apart and Soap tells them he is going to find that drink for Ghost and excuses himself.

"Ma'am, could I get a copy of that picture?" Soap taps the captain with the camera on her shoulder on his way out. "Of course, hun! I'll make sure to give Price a few extra copies once I get them printed."

"Cheers!" Soap says raising his bottle in response "Enjoy the rest of your night."

"You too!" She says, giving a short wave to Soap.

'Oh, I will.' Soap thinks as he makes his way out of the mess hall and into the corridor leading to the utility closet Ghost wants him to wait in. He walks as fast as he can without looking suspicious, a tightness growing in his stomach and a heart wanting to break free of his ribs in excited anticipation of what's to come.

Rounding a corner, he meets a group of recruits.

"Leaving the party already Sarg?"

"Don't cha worry I'll be back, I'm only out looking for a little something stronger to drink." Soap responds with a wink as he walks backward down the hall coming to a corner. "You lads better get back there, don't want the captain to catch you out here." He turns the corner, hearing the recruits retreating footsteps as he approaches the utility closet door.

When he's standing in front of the door, he grips the handle, checking both ends of the hallway to make sure he won't be seen entering. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he opens the door and steps inside, reaching to his left to flick on the light and shutting the door behind him locking himself in.

He waits for what feels like ages. He finished the last of his drink a while ago and is now pacing around the small room.

"The things I do for this man." Soap signs. "This is ridiculous, what am I even doing in here?"

He checks his watch, 20 minutes have passed.

He's been waiting in a closet for Ghosts for twenty minutes.

"Oh, I'm so making you pay for this LT." He leans against the wall, readjusting his headband to distract him from the tightness in his pants that has been there for the last 15 minutes.

'Fuck it' he thinks, 'I'm not waiting any longer.' He reaches to palm himself through his jeans, moaning at the feeling of finally being touched. His briefs are wet with precum and creating a slick surface that his cock twitches against earning another sign from him. He reaches into his shirt to grab his nipple when a knock from the door startles him.

Knock-knock

Soap takes two long strides to the door, unlocking it and flinging it open. Ghost pushes his way in, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Jesus Simon, I thought you were going to make me wait here all night," Johnny says moving to stand chest to chest with Simon. He places one hand on Simon's waist and moves his other to take off Simon's mask.

Simon grabs his wrist and moves away. "Thought you were being a good boy? Think you need to learn some patience."

"My patience ran out 15 minutes ago." Johnny groans, freeing his wrist and ripping Simon’s mask off, throwing it somewhere on the floor behind him. His hair is an absolute mess, sticking up in all directions and a smirk is plaster across his face, he's looking down at Johnny hungerly.

Johnny smashes his lips onto Simon's in a desperate sloppy kiss, tongue and saliva pushing into Simon's mouth. A moan escapes Johnny. Simon reaches one of his hands up to the back of Johnny's head, caressing his nape first then gripping the back of his mohawk to deepen the kiss.

Johnny pulls away breathing hard when Simon's other hand touches his cock through his jeans. "Fuuuuck" he moans into Simon's neck, placing several open-mouthed kisses there and bringing his hands to wrap around Simon's broad back grabbing fist fulls of his hoodie.

Johnny ruts against Simon's hand earning a chuckle from Simon, "Desperation looks good on you, Johnny."

"Can think of a couple other things that might look even better."

Simon pulls away from Johnny, placing a hand on his chest pushing him away, "Stay." He says as looks down at him with half-lidded eyes. His gaze wanders down Johnny's face to the collar he wears on his neck, then to his chest that heaves in excitement, shirt half unbuttoned showing off his well-defined pecs that are covered in dark hair. Simon takes his hand and brushes Johnny's shirt where he knows his nipple sits underneath, drawing a shutter out of him. He smiles, looking up to Johnny's eyes that are already staring back at him. Simon looks down to see Johnny has clenched his fists that hang by his sides and sees that he's straining against his jeans, a wet spot has formed where the head of his cock has been twitching, wishing to be free from the confines of his jeans.

"You gonna me show how good you are?" He asks Johnny.

"Simon, please I-"

Simon walks Johnny backward until his back meets the shelf full of cleaning supplies behind them, shaking when they collide with it. Simon goes to plant a kiss on Johnny's mouth when Johnny tries to meet him halfway, "Ah-ah, I said stay" he scolds as he grabs Johnny's jaw with a firm grip. He places a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth, then on the scar on his chin, and then one more on the pulse on his neck, he can feel it racing under his lips.

He suddenly pulls away and crouches down to settle on his knees in front of Johnny. Simon reaches for Johnny's belt unbuckling it, he unbuttons his jeans pulling them and his boxer briefs halfway down his thighs in one fluid motion, letting Johnny's cock spring free in front of his face.

A string of precum hangs from the half-covered head of his cock, creating a string that connects to the inside of his briefs. It twitches and another pearl forms under Simon's gaze. The pearl drops to the floor when Simon's gloved hand connects with his shaft, slowly moving his foreskin back to reveal his glistening, swollen head.

"Ahh, fuck" Johnny sighs, throwing his head back to smack against the self with a bang, knocking over a couple of the bottles.

"Careful, Johnny. Need to stay quiet, don't want anyone finding us do ya?" Simon teases as he starts lazily stroking his cock. He gets a hiss from Johnny, as he slides his gloved hand down his shaft to the base, creating a rough sensation for Johnny.

Simon's hand slides back up to his leaking head, thumb going to Johnny's frenulum drawing agonizingly slow circles on it. Simon looks up at Johnny to see his face contorted in pleasure with the overstimulation he's causing and that his headband has been knocked out of place. He brings his other hand to grip Johnny's balls, pulling them down gently. Johnny's chest heaves in when he releases a heavy breath, his hand shooting out to grip the edge of the shelf he's leaning on, his other hand hovering over Simon's head, hesitating to grip his hair. He looks down to Simon for permission, to which Simon responds by releasing his hand from Johnny's cock and catching it on his tongue.

"Yer gonna kill me." He breathes, getting a open-mouthed grin out of Simon. He wraps his lips around him before sucking on his head, flicking his tongue on the underside.

"Simon." Johnny warns.

Simon sinks his whole cock into his mouth, nose pushing into Johnny's pubic bone, a burning feeling in the back of his throat. He sticks his tongue out to caress his balls while he starts messaging them with his hand. Drool drops into his palm helping ease the rough feeling of his glove for Johnny. He slides Johnny's cock out of his mouth to take a deep breath.

"Think yer enjoying this more than me." Johnny chuckles at Simon looking down at the saliva dripping from his wet lips. Simon only looks up at him in response before pulling his cock back into his mouth, sucking and bobbing up and down his cock with a relentless pace this time. He never breaks eye contact with Johnny as he starts playing with his balls and moving his forefinger to brush against his taint. This makes Johnny buck forward deep into Simon's mouth and grip his own pec, wanting to place pressure on his nipple. Simon pulls Johnny's hand away, ripping his shirt open making a couple of the buttons fly free. He finds Johnny's nipple and pinches. Hard.

"I'm- I’m gunna-!" Johnny pants out. Bucking forward once again, pushing his cock farther down Simon’s throat, making his eyes water.

Simon can feel him twitching and pulsing inside his throat. He pulls his head away quickly just as Johnny starts to come, he tastes it briefly on his tongue before releasing his cock with a pop and feels Johnny's cum land on his face. One release squirts up his cheek stopping on his cheekbone and another across the bridge of his nose just missing his eye. More oozes out as Johnny grips the sides of Simon’s head to rut through his orgasm, rubbing and grinding his cock against Simon's face, his balls slapping against his jaw with a wet sticky sound. Simon closes one of his eyes as Johnny’s cock gets dangerously close to it, even more cum is leaking out of the tip as Johnny overstimulates himself. When he stops, he's breathing hard and hunching over, shaking from his orgasm, his cock jumps against the bridge of Simon’s nose. The cum pooled there drips down his face and over his chin, dripping onto his neck and disappearing under his shirt.

"Good boy." Simon says as he pats Johnny's thigh.

"Lemme be even better than,” he says, as he unsteadily crouches down in front of Simon, “and help clean you up." He sticks his tongue out, licking the cum off Simon’s neck, trailing up to his chin, then up and over his cheek. After he's collected it all in his mouth he kisses Simon, holding eye contact when he pushes it into his mouth with his tongue, smiling when he accepts it. Johnny pulls away, looking very impressed with himself, a string of saliva connects them and Simon swallows what he’s given him. Wiping his mouth with the back of this hand, Simon stands them both up, pulling Johnny's pants up, tucking him back in his briefs, and making his best attempt to fix his shirt.

Johnny places an arm around Simon's neck pulling him into a sweet tender kiss. "Let's get you sorted then." He smiles into Simon's lips, he reaches underneath his hoodie to brush along Simon’s abdomen, running his fingers through his happy trail, flattening his hand to slide into the top of his cargo pants.

Simon pulls away slightly, reaching up to fix Johnny’s fluffy-eared headband. "You know I don't need that."

"I know" he pauses "but I want too," Johnny whispers into his cheek. "I'll come to your room later. This time you'll have to wait for me." He smirks looking up at him.

"I'll be waiting." Simon kisses Johnny one last time, then steps out of his reach, picking up his discarded mask from the floor and slipping it over his head back into place. He grabs Soap's long-forgotten empty bottle and says, "Wait five minutes before leaving, yeah?"

"I know, Ghost. This isn't my first time." He smiles.

"And remember that piss tequila you were supposed to be findin'."

"You won't be callin' it that by the end of the night."

"Mmm, I doubt that." Ghost opens the door quietly to listen for anyone outside, when he hears nothing, he looks back at Soap over his shoulder and nods a 'see you' then steps out closing the door behind him.

Soap takes in a deep breath. 'Think I gotta start wearing a collar more often.' He thinks. 'Maybe I should start wearing the throat mic again?'

#ghost has a sweet tooth and i wont hear otherwise #price and gaz are here but they play a small part so imma not tag em #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod #bell writes

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shewrotesomething · 11 months

Text

The Day He Realized He Wanted to Marry You (Unknown)

Marriage was a distant thought to Saeran. He never really considered it. With everything that’s happened, really, it’s the last thing he could even begin thinking of. That was fine, you never pushed him to jump into anything he wasn’t ready for.

He could remember the day he changed his mind though, or at least, felt a shift in his heart.

At the time, some days were better than others. And when they weren’t… they really weren’t.

His brother had to be out of town for an entire week, and so, the two of you figured to stay at your place for a few days.

He had a terrible time falling asleep. Too many thoughts in his head. Thoughts such as, if you wake up one day and decided you didn’t want to bear his burden with him, well, he wouldn’t blame you. Thoughts such as, the longer he spends with you, the more he’d ruin you. Thoughts such as, he wanted to be okay. Just for a day. To be okay so you wouldn’t have a hard time.

A nightmare came for him that night. Nothing gruesome. Or perhaps it was. He couldn’t remember anymore. All he knew was that he grasped for your presence, only to wake up and realize you were gone.

His heart leapt to his throat and he ripped his sheet away to reach for his phone on your nightstand. A text message read: Heeeey, I had to leave super early. I have to deal with an emergency. Didn’t want to wake you. Tell me when you’re up though!

He was frustrated, immediately. First, at you, for leaving so early, then at himself, for thinking such things. It’s fine, he’ll deal with it. He had to learn to deal with his emotions by himself. He had to learn to be stronger for you.

His mood didn’t improve throughout the day. Even when he did some work to get his mind off of it.

Saeran slammed his laptop shut and leaned back on the couch. From his seat, he spotted the trash can. It was filled to the brim. Not only that, it couldn’t even close with how much trash there was. He remembered telling you to take that out 2 days ago, why is it still there?

The door clicked open then and you strode inside with a bag of groceries. “Oh hi, you’re up. Didn’t you see my text?”

He did. He didn’t really want to reply.

His lack of reply didn’t deter you. “I ran into an old classmate on the way home, she’s inviting me to a party, but honestly we weren’t even that close so I don’t know if I should go. I remember she once told me I had weird legs…”

As you narrated your day, you organized the groceries.

Saeran was only half listening. The other half was sitting in a boiling pot of anger and frustration.

“Hey, is everything okay?” you asked when you noticed his unnatural silence. “Sorry that dinner is taking so long, do you want to eat something while you wait?”

Saeran rolled his eyes. “You know what I want? I want you to take out the trash already. It’s been a full 24 hours since I asked you to take it out and there it is. I can’t believe you can live in this kind of mess!”

“Oh, well I—”

“You’ve been walking around in the kitchen for nearly an hour, you don’t notice how the trash doesn’t even close anymore? You remember what your aunt said about your shirt 3 weeks ago but you can’t remember to take out the trash you see everyday? Grow up!”

He watched the expression on your face melt from surprise and confusion into quiet vitriol. Your breath heaved. His throat tightened. Then, came the tears. Your lips quivering with words you refused to release. Only then did he realize he’s gone too far.

Without a word, you put the potholder down on the counter and pull the trash bag out of the can and tie it off nicely. You crossed the room.

“MC, I—”

You held a hand up to stop him before grabbing your wallet and keys. “I love you, but I need a moment,” you told him before you walked out the door.

Saeran’s heart dropped to his gut when he heard the door shut. This was bad. This was really bad. You’ve had arguments before but this was the first time he’s seen you so angry you couldn’t even speak.

He should go after you. Wait. No. That would be worse. You’ll be back. Right? What you said earlier definitely means you’ll come back.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Saeran bolted out the door. Looking both ways on the street. You were nowhere to be found.

He messed up big time. Why is he like this? Why her? Of all people why her?

Walking back inside, he tried not to panic. He should call you. His eyes jumped to the couch where his phone sat. He dialed your number only to discover that you had left your phone on the dinner table.

His fault. His fault. His fault. He’s shit. His fault. His fault. You left. It’s his fault. He shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Not your fault. Not your fault.

Saeran curled himself up on the wall next to the door.

He doesn’t know for how long he sat there. This wasn’t the first time this has happened. He’s snapped before…but… you always stayed.

You always stayed…

The door clicked open and he sprang out of the ground.

There you were. Despite your insistence to look indifferent, the spot of redness under your eyes betrayed you. He did this to you. His fault. His fault.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it, I promise. I…I’m not okay… I’m not okay. It’s not your fault. I took it out on you and I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave again.” Tears started flowing down your cheeks and nails dug into his heart. He wanted to touch you. Was he allowed to touch you? Please just don’t leave. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I’ll do anything, just… I really didn’t—”

THWACK!

A cold object collided with his chest and landed on the ground. Saeran looked down and it was a packet of popsicle ice cream. He bent down to pick it up. When he looked up at you, you had wiped away your tears and had a pout on your face.

“Just eat your ice cream.”

Saeran hasn’t heard a louder I love you.

#saeran x oc #saeran x reader #saeranmysticmessenger #saeran choi #mystic messenger #mystic messenger unknown #mysme saeran #mysme fanfic #mysme imagines #mysme headcanons #mystic messenger headcanons

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coffeistwriter · 5 months

Text

Sweet Indulgence

TW! GORE, CANNIBALISM, MURDER, PRE-CANON

Bg3 Half Elf Drow! Durge x Gortash (not smut, but still nsfw)

Durge has a described appearance but no name. Gif is not mine, the owner is @guccialli. I'll probably revisit this in the future and add to the gore factor of the projection and killing of the boy 🤷‍♂️ (on ao3)

AO3 link and tags for those I know might want to see this: @qiific3 @sycophantofbane

Purple hands covered in red splendor, heavy breaths from the mouth of sharp teeth, and peppered hair full of knots atop their head. Orangey red eyes stared into the dark room in front of them and behind their back held in tight hands, a gift. He lay in bed without a hint of knowing what’s to come. His short dark hair splayed across the pillow, his breaths even and calm, a blanket protecting him from the shroud of evil at his door. Enver, a beauty to behold by their eyes, only them.

They stepped across the threshold and into his room, eyes never straying from their prey as they advanced. Skillfully they avoided the creaking floorboards as they stepped closer. The gift in their hands dripped with gore, the blood souring the rug on the floor. They could care no more for the rug, having told him many times to get rid of it before.

Standing in front of him in his bed they crouched to eye level, admiring the young man as he slept. All signs of his usual malice and neediness gone as his mind kept its comatose trance. They reached a bloody hand out to brush away his messy hair and hoped he would not stir. Before placing his gift upon his bedside table, they pressed a gentle kiss to his head, one light enough to not stir even the most skittish of mice.

Retreating to the doorway once more, they whispered a sweet nothing to him “When the sun rises I shall fall and you’ll wake to find my love for you, dear Enver. Goodnight.” The door then closed and enveloped the room in pure inky blackness and the sound of his breath. Swiftly they left the home and entered the streets of Baldur, hiding in the shadows as they hunted for their next meal.

There, a raven-haired teen with poise similar to Enver. Hungry and unresting they stalked after the boy with quiet footsteps. In their sharp grasp a knife is steadily held and ready for action. When the boy is caught alone in an ally on his way home the knife lands in his spine, instantly paralyzing the boy. A scream is caught in his throat at the excruciating pain. They meander over top of him, watching as he tries to crawl away and cry for help. A foot on his neck stops him from moving further.

“I wouldn't do that, if I were you, sweetness.” All they could imagine was Enver, sweet sweet Enver, as they delved into the innocent boy's flesh. Ripping his muscles from the bone and devouring his lovely inner spoils. The crunch and squelch of his guts in their mouth only brings to mind what they wish they could do to Enver. Their only desire, to fill their mouth with him, to eat him whole. So he will never part with them.

“It was a delight for you to indulge me like this, sweetness. Your shortcoming was pleasurable. Now I hope you don't mind as my feast must be cut short.” They couldn't stay outside much longer as the sun would come up soon, and they needed to get back home to the temple. “I hope you liked my gift, my dearly detested Enver.”

Just as quickly as the night had begun it was over. Back in their dark room with blood covered sheets and grotesque corpses strewn across the wall from their bed. The shroud of sleep once more overcame them as the sun began to rise above the city above. They dreamt of only the sweetest indulgences.

The childlike rage of their childlike loneliness was no more for this day. Tomorrow would come and it would return, only to be gnawed at and gutted once more.

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ilikeyoualive · 3 months

Text

Chapter 15 snippet for y'all since it's been sitting in my docs for a while and I thought I'd share what I had written already instead of letting it collect dust. And, if anyone is interested in exploring this AU more, check out my Main Masterlist!

Warnings: Blood and Injury, Angst, Mentioned Cannibalism, Missions Gone Wrong

Word Count: 644

Read Snippet Under The Cut:

Rule #15: Don't Hurt Said Emotional Support Human. You Will Fucking Die.

Something squishy yet cold as ice laved over the split skin on his throat and, if Soap weren't mistaken, he would swear that it was a tongue. His brows twitched in growing discomfort at the confusing sensation of that cold tongue touching his feverish skin, each rasp of it over the wound bringing a bright shock of pain as the split and raw skin was repeatedly agitated.

His foggy brain tried to puzzle together why his neck was wounded in the first place, but he didn't have time to linger on it because suddenly the tongue stilled and several sharp somethings pricked the skin of his throat. He belatedly realized with a dawning sense to dread that those were fucking sharp ass teeth closing on his neck, his memories of the last several hours hitting him like a brick to the face.

The looming and very real threat of getting his throat ripped out had Soap's eyes abruptly snapping open as his hand simultaneously shot up to the back of Ghost's head, numb fingers seizing a fistful of the sniper's balaclava and probably even some hair in the process. He didn't make any effort to pull Ghost away with his trembling grip since it would be a useless endeavor anyway, opting to let his warm touch be a reminder that he was still alive.

"G'st," He slurred, clearing his throat with a grimace as if that would somehow help him cobble together the words needed to talk Ghost out of taking a bite, his head lazily lolling toward the sniper's own bowed head until his cheek rested against Ghost's temple. "Dinnae eat mah till mah heart stops beatin'." He murmured, blinking rapidly until the hull stopped spinning around him in a nauseating fashion, exhaling sharply in relief once he was reasonably sure that he wasn't about to throw up.

"Johnny."

It was just one word, barely a whisper against his throat, but there was so much packed into that stupid little nickname that he had grown so fond of hearing from those scarred lips that he felt breathless.

"Donnae dare eat me 'til they call it, ye hear me?" Soap grunted, fighting to stay awake even as his vision began to blur dizzyingly. But he couldn't pass out yet, not until Ghost promised not to take a chunk out of him while he was unconscious. "Simon, please." He begged when the silence stretched on, his grip on Ghost's balaclava starting to go slack as darkness crept in from the edges of his eyes.

"I swear I'll wait til your body is stiff an’ cold." Ghost sounded utterly gutted when he finally spoke, his voice wobbly and hoarse in a way that Soap would find extremely alarming had the last of his lucidity not chosen that exact moment to slip through his fingers like sand.

When awareness returned to Soap only a handful of minutes later, he found that there were several unfamiliar hands on his person. And, when he made a low sound of distress in the wake of this troubling realization, it was immediately echoed by a familiar and hair-raising growl that reverberated through the hull like rolling thunder, those unwelcome hands flinching away from him.

Ghost was half turned away in a crouch, his mask sloppily shoved up to the bridge of his sharp roman nose, presumably to free up his mouth for the whopping four fingers that he currently had stuffed in it. His pink tongue poking out between the digits as he messily licked at them before his pale, scarred lips closed around them and he began to audibly suck the sticky coating of blood off of his fingers, gasping like a man starved as he hunched in on himself even further with a full body quake that looked more despairing than pleasured.

#cod cryptid au #cryptid tf 141 #simon riley #john mactavish #ghost #soap cod #soap call of duty #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #call of duty mwii

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helluvaoutlaw · 2 months

Text

Heart to Heart

As Striker stepped into Crimson's opulent mansion in the Greed ring, he felt a chill creeping up his spine despite the warm interior. The imposing shark bodyguards flanked him, their presence a constant reminder of the power Crimson wielded.

He had been summoned by the imp mafia boss, probably to give him another task.

In the lavish living room, Crimson awaited, his smile oozing with false warmth.

"Ah, Striker, my old friend, welcome! Come in, come in, want something to drink? Something to eat?"

Crimson greeted, his tone unsettlingly cordial.

Suspicion gnawed at Striker's gut. Crimson's overly friendly demeanor felt like a facade, a thinly veiled trap waiting to spring shut. Nevertheless, he played along, feigning a smile of his own.

He did not sit down when offered a chair, nor accepted anything to eat and drink.

"Crimson, good to see you again. What can I do for you?"

Crimson's smile widened, but there was a cruel glint in his eyes that sent shivers down Striker's spine.

"Oh, Striker, it's not what you can do for me. It's what I will do to you."

Confusion flickered across Striker's features. This wasn't what he expected.

"What...?"

Before he could react, Crimson's demeanor shifted, his expression darkening as he signaled to his guards. In an instant, they pounced, seizing Striker and pinning him down with brutal efficiency.

Realization dawned on Striker too late. Crimson hadn't called him here for a job; he'd called him here to settle a score.

Fear and rage clenched at his heart as Crimson's sadistic intentions became clear.

"You washed-up mafioso BASTARD!!"

He hissed, struggling against his captors, and with his tail he actually managed to whip the face of one of them, temporarily blinding him.

He kicked and punched and bit, but the sharks were too many and too heavy.

They took his angelic guns, rope and knife at the door, and he was mentally kicking himself for being so stupid.

Crimson merely chuckled, relishing in his prey's futile attempts at escape.

The mafia boss's calm demeanor belied the storm brewing within him as he approached Striker, cigar smoke swirling around him like a sinister fog.

"You see, Striker," Crimson began, his voice a low, menacing rumble, "You failed me. And in my line of work, failure cannot go unpunished. Your brilliant plan to kidnap Blitz and Fizzarolli, nearly cost me everything."

As the acrid smoke stung Striker's eyes, Crimson's words cut deep, each syllable dripping with venomous disdain.

"One of my best lawyers, gone at the hands of Asmodeus. Half of my men, decimated by Blitz's and that clown's crazy antics. And let's not forget the warehouse debacle. All our resources, all our hard work, reduced to rubble in an instant."

The weight of Crimson's fury bore down on Striker, suffocating him with the realization of the chaos he had wrought. His stomach churned as he braced for Crimson's wrath to come crashing down upon him.

"And now, cowboy..."

Crimson continued, his voice calm and cold.

"You and Blitz will pay for every single problem you've caused me. Every setback, every loss, will be repaid in blood."

"Oooh, I'm trembling in my boots-GAAHH!"

Striker cried out when Crimson put the lit cigar on his cheek, burning him, using him as an ashtray.

"You better tone down that Wrathian arrogance of yours, cowboy."

With a sharp snap of his fingers, Crimson commanded his men to secure Striker, their movements swift and decisive. Striker's protests were futile as they bound his hands and feet, rendering him powerless.

"Take him to the cellar. Let him meet his cellmate."

Crimson ordered while smirking evilly.

As Striker was forcibly taken away, a sense of dread washed over him.

He needed to escape, but how?

As the sharks unceremoniously threw him inside a dark cellar made of concrete and steel, Striker raged against the reinforced door, punching it several times and even leaving a few dents.

"I'M GONNA RIP YOUR ORGANS AND FEED 'EM TO MY HORSE, YOU MISERABLE MOTHERFUCKER!!"

@tangledfate

#helluva outlaw #helluva boss #striker #ask blog #helluva striker #Blitzø #Crimson

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moonlitinks · 2 years

Note

can i… possibly ask for a drabble of the hoax characters having sex that’s super angsty but you can see ari slowly having feelings for the reader?

think i wrote more than a drabble lmao, but AHHH i can just imagine reader being so oblivious while ari is like feral over her. and she's still hurt and then he hurts because of what he's done, but can't stay away from her.

anyways :"))) drabble under the cut:

“Fuck,” Ari pants against your skin, nibbling on the underside of your breasts. You quiver when his mouth reaches its way up, harshly sucking on your nipple. “You going to give Daddy his milk, baby?”

“Ah!” You cry, grabbing his biceps to steady yourself. His tongue swirls around the bud before he gives it a harsh suck, swallowing all the liquid coming out of your breast. He’s different today, his dominance over you much more gentle, sweet. Since he brushed your hair to the side and started kissing down your neck, ripping your shirt in half, your gut clenched with need.

And so did a certain area—somewhere you can’t say without blushing.

Remember, you tell yourself, this doesn’t mean anything to Ari.

Ari notices the lust in your eyes, the pink in your cheeks, your small squirms beneath him as he allows his weight to give you a sense of security. And fuck if he doesn’t want to devour you. He’s already thrown away your pants somewhere else in the room, leaving you bare with just your panties on.

And he’s struck. How hasn’t seen how adorable you are? How you’re so perfectly made for him?

“Ari, I don’t—oh!” Your hips buck when he slaps your ass, nose pressing against the last shred of fabric covering you. He groans at the thought of eating you out, having to press you down because you’re too dumb, too gone to stay still. Maybe he’ll edge you if you don’t listen, have your whimper and screams fill the room. Maybe he’ll insert his finger in to see you clench around him, desperate for his cum. Maybe he’ll just slide his cock in—you’re drenched already—and let you feel every. Single. Inch.

So when he shoves your panties to the side and starts devouring you, you lose control. Back arching and hips bucking against his face, you release a wail when Ari circles your clit with his thumb. Legs hooked around his shoulders, you’re helpless when an arm presses down on your stomach to stop your movements.

“What’s my name, baby?” His voice is hoarse against your pussy. Almost inaudible in the lust-filled haze you’re in.

“Come on, baby. You’re not that far gone, are you? Not too dumb to call me by my proper name? Hm?”

You moan at the vibrations inside of you. “Please—”

“Please what?” There’s a teasing lilt to him.

“Please, Daddy!” You cry. “Please please please please—”

He thrusts into you in one go, and your head thrashes against the pillow.

Fuck, you’re so tight, Ari doesn’t want to leave. With your head in between his arms, he groans. Lifts your chin so he can kiss you, sucking on your tongue, your bottom lip, you.

“You’re mine,” he snarls. Grinds against you, then thrusts. The rhythm is too fast, you’re reduced to broken moans. “That’s right, baby. Cry for me. Because no one will get to see this, you hear me? If you show this side to anyone, I’ll tear them apart.”

“D-daddy,” you whimper. “I’m—”

“I know, baby,” he cajoles. “I know everything about you. But we’re not done after one round. You want to please me, don’t you? Make me happy? Let me worship you?”

All these words aren’t what Ari usually says. They’re new, and when he kisses you and lets his hands roam and raises you so he can thrust just right, you can’t analyze anything.

“You can’t come until you answer, sweetheart,” he mocks. “I can do this all day.”

“Yes!” You don’t even know what you’re agreeing to. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Don’t even know what you’re saying, do you? Don’t even know you’re chaining yourself to me, letting me take care of you—”

Skin against skin. You’re so wet, you can hear it as Ari pounds into you.

“Come,” he grits out. “Now.”

You do—black dots your vision as you almost pass out, the most intense orgasm washing over you. You pant, trying to catch your breath, barely even able to open your eyes. Drowsy.

Ari notices this—and the trail of his cum mixed with yours slipping out of you. He slips his cock back in, and you moan because you’re too sensitive.

“Shhh,” he murmurs, voice gentle. Sweet. He brushes some of your hair back from your forehead. “Just making sure my cum stays inside you, baby.”

“Want to sleep, Daddy,” you whisper thoughtlessly.

“Go to sleep, baby.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Another thoughtless question. He’s usually gone when you wake up, even before that. You often see him leaving before your eyes close, before you can ingrain the memory to mind.

Everything about this is different, from the way he slipped his cock back in to the soft kisses on your neck, where your pulse quickens.

You must be hallucinating, but you swear his breath hitches.

“Yes, baby. I’ll be here from now on.”

What a good dream.

#replies #anon asks #anon ask #anon replies #hoax asks #hoax

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boyakishantriage · 11 months

Text

"y'know what's hilarious when you say that?"

The alien turned to look at the woman. Some, woman. From what looked to be the area known as "Asia"

"I did the exact same thing. If not more. Now sit the fuck down and let the case continue."

He stared at the woman, how dare-

"Sit down, or I will beat your gluteus maximus bleed snot."

The cricket alien hesitated, the son of the most influential and far reaching man in the galaxy.

"sit down you pathetic-"

A blade was suddenly my at his neck, the sheathe on his chest empty as she glared at him.

"Call me pathetic and I'll rip your legs off. Sit down you plebeian. Incomprehensive dunce, sit down before I make sitting the only thing you can do." She tossed the blade at his seat, kicking it aside as she hopped back into the audience.

The court watched as he sat back down, the case continuing as she listened to the viewing.

"how dare she!!"

He howled. Striking the white pillar to his guard.

"She did nothing." Stated the mentor to the young man.

"listen to your old man. What you did already alerted a lot of people on earth."

"where- pah. What on earth can-"

She tossed him the tooth of a Revian. Large worms known for cracking empire sized ships in space.

"Do you want to know why I have one of these?"

"Because you bought it."

"Close. I considered selling it, go for a pretty penny on the black market, but I kept it as a momento."

"for what?"

"punching a space worm."

He stared at the woman, in human years she was what? 30? 40? Hardly an elder...

"proposing you're not lying. So what?"

She looked at the young prince.

"do you know how much you're worth young man?"

"..."

"4 billion credits. Minimum."

"hah, I'm worth-"

"that's dead by the way and from how. Bratty you are, I have half the mind to gut you like a fish. Might even eat you."

She moved forward to try bite him, the mentor saying nothing as he watched the young Ricketian.

"Hah, as if-"

WHEEER

"Hands up."

"..."

The young cricket raised his hands as she poked him with the stick.

"gullible."

"excuse-"

"slow."

"WAH"

"and predictable. Let me put into perspective what you just did. You alerted, most of the underground of your existence. Because of that-"

"so what if your planet's underground-"

"your guard took a bribe."

The prince paused.

"what?"

"your guard. He took a bribe."

"I- so what? Your planet's"

She fired the pistol into the pillar, the bullet firing through the stone into the wall behind it.

"That's. The oldest generation pistol that still works, that I could find. This. Is a garand. One of the oldest firearms I own. This one specifically was used to shoot the engine of a plane. 180 metres above ground, while it was actively flying towards the shooter. Rifles after the 21 century can puncture 20 centimetres of pure titanium. In this lovely country, they have pistols that fire with the same recoil as a revolver."

To emphasise, she pulled weapons from her bag, firing the revolver through the fifth pillar. The tip of the modern weapon's bullet making its way through two pillars of 0.75 pure marble.

"And that's not talking about chloroform, car bombs, tasers. You've alerted every person who needs cash that you're worth 4 billion, naive and incapable of seeing the flare you fired."

She nodded to the mentor, snapping her fingers as the two bullets and their damage vanished.

Picking up her bag, she flicked the cricket teen.

"considering your mentor's. Nicer. He isn't so. Direct. I am. Oh and. By the way. I'd sleep in your ship tonight, heard some rumours and what they have planned..."

The woman laughed, stepping into a car and driving off.

"Do you get it now?"

"... Bullshit."

#tag #Triage #Heist #Prologue: heist #humans are space orcs

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radical-doppio · 1 year

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🔫 tell us about your oc please!!! (Luna- or others if u have any!)

OHHH i am being held gunpoint to reveal information,,, and reveal information i will do,,, but first i need to explain one thing which is that there is a Fic Series i have been Writing The Past 2 Years (although i haven't touched it for like Over Half A Year because my education has been edu-slaughtering me despite the fact i've reached the half-way point now which is funny to think about) and i think i would feel like an embarrassed teenager if i actually shared any links to it because i think it had a Very Rough Start looking back and bc of that there's a lot of choices that can look Weird and feel Rushed and i am far too Harsh On Myself even though i also boast a lot about it to my Buddies (they can attest to that i went on a symbolism ramble earlier) BUT i can explain Luna and the others!!!! aka the ones i frequently tag posts with so i will of course start with the protagonist

Eren (not aot (i should probably start saying ETW Eren instead) is actually Eren (from aot) but you've seen those posts that are like "i took this guy from this literature and started writing him and a lot happened and now there are only faint traces of the original stitched within this man that shares the same name" yeah it's that kind of situation!!!! while he still has 1. a strong desire for freedom 2. a very flat butt 3. a ripped body (in more ways than one depending on the scene) 4. horrible decision making then what makes him very different is that 1. he is everyone's winning son and that means the world! he also has some identity issues here and there and occasionally gets into illegal activities because he is a little too naive for his own good despite looking a bit like a biker-pirate-werewolf (affectionate)

but he is otherwise a Loving Fellow that cares deeply for everyone (Luna gave him a Hatsune Miku eyepatch as a late birthday present after they became friends and despite his initial repulsion he wears it like a mark of pride (he hurt his eye once nothing too important)) but he's just a little misguided and does very dumb things because he's very conflicted inside! but otherwise he's just very curious about the things he'd never get to do if he was still living in his hometown due to the overbearing weight of expectations and burdens from the greatness of his family (dad's side is a family of doctors as is consistent with aot canon but his grandparents from his mom's side were a scholar and the other a rockstar)

Now Luna is like if a raccoon worked in the corner store you go to in the middle of the night to find a bottle of water after waking up someplace you don't know with a really dry mouth and a mysteriously broken wrist. very annoying. very attached. very loving too. for some reason very athletic despite being lazy and knows things that aren't important at all but will fill the hole in your head now. now they did not actually choose their name but while he and Eren were on the beach together reminiscing over hellish moments of their lives and Luna was having a "how can i leave the person i used to be in the dust when i can't even choose a name for myself" then Eren, ever-so-bright, remembered that time his big brother Zeke taught him about these really cool moths that were the same colour as Luna's eyes and went "have you heard about these moths they're really cool" and Luna, as lovestruck as a fucking idiot can be, went "Luna rolls off the tongue nicely :)" while eating a mcflurry eren bought for him so surprisingly their name is not Luna bc of the moon but bc of the cool moth that is really pretty and can't be detected by bats meaning moon symbolism does not rock with them lolika if you're reading this i'm still gonna gut you for that but there is a Bitch

that gorgeous Bitch is Naoya and he's like Eren in that he's not an OC but i hijacked him from a piece of media and frankenstein'd him into something else (this time persona 1 he's the protagonist) but Naoya is that guy you see everywhere that has something profoundly wrong with him yet you still kinda wanna Be With Him because his vibes are Delicious and Eren recognized that after they were fishing together once and that led to them "adopting" Denji (from chainsawnman he's also involved in illegal activities with very creepy guardians aka makima and he's a few years younger than the both of them and eren has a milf instinct to keep people younger than him Safe) but also Naoya says really concerning things sometimes but Eren is too busy going "boy,, pretty,, lipstick,,, earring,,," to overhear "tbh i think a lot of the world's problems could be solved if killing was legal anyway eren my Comrade (flirting) do you wanna watch my play" i don't know why i chose to make him in charge of a theater ensemble but he also had like 309298509 jobs before shooting up in stardom after making 1 banger that denji slept through but lunaoya only met once off-screen i think and luna is Very wary of him because there is something Deeply Fucking Wrong With That Guy but Eren's very "he gave me his earring before he left for the US..." like the freakish little lover that he is and i imagine naoya's feelings on luna are very "(green goblin voice) you and i can smoke the fattest blunt together spider-man"

speaking of the green goblin there is also Coral who is Luna's childhood bestie and she is not green in real life but she is a vtuber with a crocodile princess thing called croc cordia and that crocodile is very green (there are no drawings of any of the cast because i can't draw) although she herself is the only american in the cast which is not important at all but is really funny. she isn't my oc by the way she's my good buddy's @lolika-0777 creature that i saw one holy night and then we had a brainblast of "do you think she'd hold hands with luna" and they went "oguhgohgsoghugsguughGOGYGOh" as i performed a CIA move on them to make them agree and then we had a strong moment of camaraderie as we decided coraluna are so in love but coral and eren are like siblings in that they see each other and either have a short and sweet moment together or they traumatize each other for three minutes and never speak of it again but one thing is for sure and that is that luna has 2 hands for both of them and hey why is one hand sliding away luna no the economy oh god

i also have an oc unrelated to all of that fic stuff named lucy that's my good buddy @swordlover87's oc erin's wife they got married in some roleplay because erin was in awe of lucy's 8ball swagger and lucy was in awe of erin's naive swagger i think it was a high school rp with superpowers lots of stuff happened i was there for like 4 minutes total to have them flirt and kiss and then i occasionally saw some crazy things went "woah" and then read beastars over a few days and then i watched i think it was the monster anime (i did that over 2 days) and then black sails (that was like a week) and then when i came back things were Over and i nodded and said "erilucy is real" and then me and swords held each other tenderly every night after knowing our (platonic) love is true and just even in the eyes of god but alas our tale is one cursed with tragedy and by the end he will have to slay me as i have slain what love we had for greater ambition that was as corrupt as the blood of god himself

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leebrontide · 4 years

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I’d like to tell you a little story today about why a lot of problems need social workers, not cops.

a long long time ago...like 2010, I worked 2nd shift (2pm-10pm) in a homeless shelter. I worked on a floor specifically for men with addiction and mental health problems. For most of the shift, I was the only staff working. Most of the time, the job was chill to the point of being boring. My job was to do the little things that needed doing, and be always ready to respond if shit went down. Most of the time, nothing much happened.

So one day I’m sitting at my little desk, trying to get up the motivation to organize the food pantry a little bit, and I head SCREAMING.

By the time I’m on my feet, one of the residents was in view. Dude was 6ft 4, with a shaved head, and a SOLID build. He was screaming down the hall, and in his raised fist he had, I shit you not, a blood-covered meat cleaver. He was spattered in blood all over. I knew the man- I knew all the residents. He mostly kept to himself. Sometimes he’d talk to me about his hallucinations and paranoid delusions. (no question these ones were delusions, kids. Man eating pythons can not fit in a half inch radiator pipe.) He had a history of getting pretty worked up.

Switch the camera around 180 degrees. I was 120 lbs and 5ft 4 on a good day, and all by my self. Totally unarmed.

Ask yourself- what would an armed cop do in that situation- alone, with a huge man running at them with a huge bloody knife?

I’m not gonna pretend for one second that my fight and flight instincts didn’t kick in. The ancient parts of my brain that exist to protect me from danger by fleeing or killing something saw this and screamed a great big NOPE.

But by this point I had like 8 years of other training, to. De-escalation training. Training on keeping a cool head in a scary situation. Training that reminded me that I was responsible for the safety of the other 17 men who called this floor their home.

Training that told me that this man was my responsibility, not my enemy.

In short, the opposite of what many police departments train their officers in. They are trained to view people as hostile, to treat their beat like a war zone. To act immediately. I wont say none of them have de-escalation training, but I will say it’s a bit of a useless add-on when they’re taught to go with their gut feeling of whether or not a situation is dangerous.

Because my gut sure as hell perceived a danger.

Anyways, I didn’t run, and I didn’t attack. I rooted my feet and I asked him what was going on.

That was when I saw that he was weeping. He was terrified.

He had bought a new cooking knife off the tv- he liked cooking, and had been looking at it. But one of the side effects of his meds made him clumsy, and he’d dropped it. He’d sliced open the back of his knee, where there’s a huge vein or artery or something- and was bleeding a LOT.

He was understandably alarmed at the river-like quantity of blood gushing out of him, and had run to the nearest help- me.

In his rush and his fear, he’d just forgotten to put the damn knife down.

The other residents had, thankfully, all stayed in their rooms, because a month before I’d got on several people’s cases for coming out to defend me- with the very best of intentions- during a previous incident. Their motives were good, but de-escalating a situation when other people are ready to throw hands is WAY harder. I’d told them to keep their buts in their rooms unless I actually called for help, and God bless them, every single one of them had done it.

This is the point when I called for help. One of the residents got the first aid kit. One called an ambulance. One gave me the literal shirt off his back because our damn first aid kit didn’t have a tourniquet so we ripped the shirt up to make one.

We helped calm the poor injured guy down, and he got a few stitches, and everybody was proud of how we’d come together to help each other out.

Nobody was hurt beyond that one initial injury. Nobody was traumatized. If anything, the guy who’d been hurt was happier, more engaged with the rest of us, having seen that everyone here would take care of him when he was in need. He hadn’t had much care given to him in his life.

So when you see meme’s of “lol what are those social workers gonna do NOW huh?” please remember that 1) we’ve been out here doing this work ANYWAYS and 2) We’ve been doing it unarmed and level headed, which is better than the cops.

Now, does social work ALSO need reform? Does social work ALSO contain racism and ableism and every other social evil? You bet! Just look at...like anything to do with CPS to look at how these systems break down.

But do not use social workers de-escalation training as some kind of “gotcha” to prove we need armed and militant enforcers on every damn corner. And please don’t let others do it, either.

A better way is possible.

#social justice #police reform #abolish the police #ACAB

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