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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

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The Guilt (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader)

Description: Y/n was the one person he never meant to kill, but Alastor didn't have a choice. Years later, much to his surprise, they run into one another in the depths of Pentagram City.

Warnings: Murder, cannibalism mentioned in a metaphoric sense. Un-detailed descriptions of rotting bodies.

Word Count: 2,701

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N I promise I will get to the rest of the requests soon, I just wanted to write something that has been stuck in my head for a hot minute since I've like only been doing requests the past couple days. I think the only ones I have left are ones that have been sent in since February 15th so I hope that is okay.

Alastor recognized her the minute he first saw her. It had been a year since his arrival in Hell and he was already making waves. Demons avoided him on the streets, shot him fearful glances over their shoulders. He enjoyed the privacy it afforded him, the padding of air around him.

He didn't pay the others mind, focused on his own goals and patterns of being. Friends, relationships, they were far from his top priority but still, Alastor recognized her the minute he first saw her.

In his years of blood soaked escapades in the world of the living, he had wreaked havoc on the world. In all those years, he had only ever made two mistakes. The first had been getting caught, getting killed by that hunter. The second? Had been killing that girl.

He hadn't had a choice. Normally, Alastor chose his victims carefully following a specific criteria. She had been an accident. He had gotten careless one night, cocky even in his streak of successes. Alastor had been transfixed, carving a man's intestines from the cavity of his stomach. The girl had had wide eyes, her mouth open. She had trembled.

Their eyes had met across the darkened street. She had clutched at her coat, pulling it tighter. She hadn't even tried to run.

Alastor never learned her name, avoided all reports on her disappearance and death like the plague. She haunted him. He saw her around corners, when he shut his eyes at night like a vengeful spirit. Always just staring at him with those big, knowing eyes. He didn't need more reminders, more facets of feeling, than he already had.

Alastor had recognized her the minute he first laid eyes on her in Hell. It had taken him a moment to realize she was real, she still looked so deeply human after all. He had never expected her to be here. He had never expected to see her again.

When he opened his eyes and she was still there, sitting placidly at the cafe table, it was like some uncontrollable force pulled him to her. He pulled out the spare chair, falling lazily into it. She looked up at the noise of metal against concrete, curiosity painting her features as she lowered her book onto the table.

"Hello?" she said after a moment, though it was more of a question than a greeting.

Alastor had never heard her voice before except for when she had screamed. It was melodious, it was soft and sweet. His smile grew.

"Yes, hello indeed."

She stared at him with those eyes, those same eyes that had haunted him for years.

"My apologies but, who are you? Do I know you?"

He was unable to keep the surprise from his features. It had been a long time since anyone had asked him something like that, he couldn't tell if she was joking. But then there were those wide eyes, earnest in their honesty.

"No, my apologies. I did not introduce myself. My name is Alastor, quite the pleasure to meet you. Quiet the pleasure."

He grabbed her hand from where it lay daintily across her open book, shaking it in his own.

"Oh!" Y/n lightly exclaimed in response to the action, "Oh, well, Alastor, I am Y/n. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well."

The contact broke and Alastor leaned his elbows on the table, resting his chin in his hands.

"Forgive me for saying this but, you seem a bit unsuited for all this mess. Prim and proper. What landed you here?"

"Is that why you've come to join me?"

Alastor nodded after a second's thought. It was an easy cover up for his true motives. Y/n seemed to have no idea who he was after all and to be perfectly honest, even Alastor himself was struggling to understand his motivations. Guilt wasn't an emotion he was familiar with. It was confusing, writhed in the pit of his stomach like a snake.

"Well, thats a rather personal question to ask someone right off the bat, isn't it?"

"I suppose you're right. How about this one then, what are you reading?"

After that day at the cafe, Alastor followed Y/n like a hurt puppy. He didn't rightly know why. It was a compulsion of a sort, he couldn't stop it. She was disinterested by radio, by the newfangled video boxes popping up. She knew nothing of his reputation, she just thought he was a friend. A fairly determined friend, but a friend none the less.

Alastor didn't understand it. He was a man obsessed, not with Y/n per say but with the opportunity she offered. She smelled like making good on past wrongs. That wasn't something Alastor had ever been interested in before. Y/n was the exception. She was always the exception, he supposed.

It wasn't long before their little lunches, their random rendezvous in the streets, carefully orchestrated by Alastor of course, not that she knew, became something more. Spending time with her calmed the raging sea of uncertainty in his gut. Being kind to her felt like salvation.

Alastor had never been concerned with that before, but it was such an intoxicating thing to hear her words of thanks, of praise. To witness her smiles and her apparently unending kindness. They would spend hours pouring over one another's collections of books. They would spend hours in deep philosophic discussion. It was Y/n who first brought up their previous lives.

"Do you ever miss it?" she had asked when they had been making lunch together one day in her apartment.

Alastor's hand had stilled, his knife halfway through the cut of veal he had been handeling.

"Miss what, my dear?"

"Life."

He began to move the knife again, letting out a slight hum of thought.

"Not particularly. I take it you do?"

Y/n leaned over the pot, checking to see if the water was boiling yet for the potatoes. It wasn't and so she turned to him, leaning up against the counter.

"Sometimes." she admitted.

Alastor turned to her as well. The apron over her dress was stained with jam from the times they had baked together just a few days before. Y/n hair was tied up and away from her face. He felt his heart stutter in his chest.

That had been happening a lot lately when he looked at her. Alastor figured it was a progression of guilt, a giving away of it. He figured spending time with Y/n was helping it go away.

It wasn't like it was a burden for him. They actually had a surprising amount in common.

"What do you miss?"

"My mom."

And there it was again, the cannibalistic sickness eating away at his brain.

"Were you two close?"

Y/n nodded, turning her gaze to the window.

"Yeah. She... I didn't have a big family. Or a lot of friends growing up. I was shy, painfully shy. She was... she was all I had. And now she's alone up there."

"What landed you down here?"

Y/n looked back to Alastor, smirking.

"Back to this are we? Only took what, six months?"

"We're friends now, aren't we?"

"Alastor..."

"Shoot me, I'm curious."

Y/n laughed lightly.

"Okay, I tell you, you tell me. Deal?"

Alastor thought it over for a moment. He could always lie to her, make up some story or another but, she was bound to find out eventually. More than anything, he wanted to keep her from connecting the pieces. Y/n figuring things out felt dangerous, it pained him to think about how she would react.

"Deal."

"Okay, um," Y/n looked away again, her hands fiddling with the frilled edge of her apron, "I don't really like to talk about it. It's kind of embarrassing."

"You made a deal."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

"So spill."

Y/n smiled lightly, meeting Alastor's eyes for a second.

"Well, I was kind of... maybe... sort of... a thief?"

"Really?"

Alastor hadn't expected that. He wasn't quite sure what he had expected to be honest but, it wasn't that.

"Yeah. Times were... tough growing up. Single mom with a kid in the early 1900s? Not everyone was a fan. It was hard for her to find work so I would... supplement. No one suspected the little girl, you know?"

There were two types of demons in Hell. There were the ones that had their demon forms, and then there were the ones like Alastor with more than one form, more abilities, more strength. It was the anger that fed it, the person they were on earth. Alastor had always assumed Y/n fell into the first category but, as she relayed her tale to him, her body began to change. She rotted before his very eyes, becoming a standing corpse with his bones all showing.

"I always felt awful about it but, we didn't really have a choice. You know? I didn't want to do it, didn't like it, but I did it and I was good at it. When I grew up, well, sometimes it is just easier to stick to what you know. I worked for a cleaning service, maids for hire, working parties, stuff like that. I, well, the people I worked for were rich. They didn't need the money but my mother and I certainly did."

It was then she seemed to realize her own changed appearance. Her eyes shot up to Alastor as she retook her original form.

"Sorry about that." she awkwardly laughed, "Guess the guilt is still eating me alive, even in death. So, what'd you do?"

Alastor took a breath, appraising the situation. The guilt, the sense of having truly sinned.

"I was a serial killer."

Y/n's eyes went wide.

"Really? You? But you're so..."

"So what, my dear?"

"So nice."

Alastor stilled.

"Nice?" he repeated.

Even in life, it was a word that few had directed towards him. Polite, yes. Talented, yes. Charming? Of course, but never nice.

At the sound of bubbling from the pot, Y/n turned his back to him.

"Yeah." she shrugged, opening the lid and dropping the potatoes in, "You probably one of the nicest people I've ever met."

The way Y/n saw him was intoxicating. Nice. He began to spend more and more time at her side. It was hard to keep the other half of his life from her but, he managed. It was a delicate balance, a game he knew well.

It was a day about a year later that Y/n approached him, blushing and unable to meet his eyes. It was a year later she told him how she felt and he realized he felt the same. They moved in together, did nearly everything together. It was a happy afterlife for them both. The first time they had kissed, she had tasted like redemption.

Y/n never questioned what Alastor did on his late nights out alone. She trusted his fidelity and when he said he liked going for walks alone in the evening air, she accepted it. When he said he was at work, broadcasting his radio show, she never asked why they didn't have a radio of their own. It was an unspoken agreement, he didn't ask where the money came from and she didn't ask what he did in the long hours he was away.

The guilt felt heavy in the pit of his stomach, growing stronger every day but still, Y/n remained blissfully ignorant. Alastor could practically hear the clock ticking. Every kiss felt like it might be the last, every caress, every meal shared at the kitchen table. He did everything he could, but knew one day she was bound to find out.

Alastor knew the day had come when he entered their lovely home on the outskirts of the Pride ring. He called his usual hello out into the house from the foyer, letting the door fall shut behind him. Y/n didn't come.

"Y/n?" he called, taking a step further into the house, "Are you home?"

All the lights were on. That was something she was careful about from the old days, making sure not to use electricity unless necessary. There was no way she wasn't in the house.

Tentatively, he stepped into the kitchen. She was sitting at the table, her head in her hands.

"Are you alright, my love?"

It was then he noticed the radio on the table.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Y/n sighed, looking up at him, "Oh."

"Where did you get that?"

"Someone dropped it off, left it at the door. I thought it was you originally but, now I'm not so sure."

Someone had left it for her? One of Alastor's numerous enemies was responsible no doubt. He had always been so careful to keep her protected, out of the public eye. It didn't make sense.

"You heard todays broadcast?"

"Oh you mean the screams of innocent demons mixed in with your stories about New Orleans?"

Alastor was silent. Y/n's eyes were rimmed with red, her hair a mess.

"They were far from innocent. Everyone is down here for a reason. Besides, I told you. I'm a killer."

"You didn't tell me you were my killer."

His heart stopped. He hadn't realized exactly how much she'd managed to piece together from the simple broadcast.

"Am I now?" Alastor asked placidly, trying to remain calm as he clasped his hands behind his back.

He didn't know what he was playing at. He was grasping at straws. Y/n got to her feet.

"You never told me you were from New Orleans, just said you grew up in the south. I let it slide but, I shouldn't have. I should have known, the similarities in our experiences... god, I was such a fool! I should have known we grew from the same patch of dirt. Alastor, there was only one serial killer active in the city at the time we were both alive, at the time I died."

"And you think it was me, my heart?"

"Alastor." she crossed her arms.

"I..."

"How could you not tell me?"

Y/n's anger mixed with grief, it misdirected itself, it got caught on the details. It hurt more that he'd been lying to her. The act itself was something to be dealt with later. Now was the time for the lies. They had spent years together, built a life together and the whole time, he had been lying.

"I didn't me-"

"Mean for me to find out?"

"Well, yes." he took a step forward, he tried to grab her hands but she pulled them away.

Y/n's skin was rotting now, she was taking on her other form. It was the first time he'd seen her do it when not remising about the past or telling stories about her mother. He had no idea what she was capable of when in this state.

"But also, I didn't mean to-"

"To what, to kill me? To marry me? To make me fucking trust you?"

"I..."

The world was falling down around him. The one thing he couldn't lose, the one thing he cared about besides himself or his power. The person that meant the most to him.

"My darling, my heart, m-"

"No, Alastor. Just... just stop." she sighed, a hand to her forehead.

She rubbed her temples, exhausted and overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry."

The words were spoken softly but they crashed into Y/n like a speeding truck. They broke her ribs. She lowered her hand.

"I... I need some time."

"No, Y/n, wait. Please."

Again, she brushed off his attempts to hold her, making her way to the door of the kitchen. Alastor followed her out into the hallway.

"Y/n. Please. Please don't leave."

"What, so you can keep up your pity project?" she scoffed, rounding on him, "I am better than that Alastor. I deserve better."

"It... you aren't a pity project. You're my world, I love you."

"No, your world is this city. Your world is running Hell. I... Alastor, I'm leaving."

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animeshotsh · 2 months

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Control | Various x Overlord!Makima!Reader

Notes: Reader has the same powers as Makima from Chainsaw Man. Im leaving a link here in case you want to read about them in deep detail.

Warnings: HH violence - Cursing - Blood -

When a soul falls down to hell no one takes notice of it. You were lowkey thankful for it, your clothes the same ones as the one you had died were dity with mud and blood. Your white shirt was ruined, your black coat had holes on it.

Thats a magnificent disaster

You never expected you would be stabed in the back by one coworker, and that would be the cause of your death. But your greed was big and so was theirs so you were sure you were going to meet them down here soon.

As impressive as this was you were not under panic, maybe having to watch your back 24/7 when you were alive had helped to it.

In that dark alley you stood considering your choices when a small creature with horns appear, it showed a knife at you and jumped.

You moved your head to the side "is this a demon?" You wondered swiftly avoiding its attack. Then like instinct you raised your arm, your fingers like a gun, pointing at the demon.

"Bam" you whispered and soon the chest of the demon exploted. You looked at your fingers then at the corpse a few meters away a sadistic smile forming.

"I wonder what more I can do"

~☆~☆~☆~☆

In no time you got a name for yourself, The Control Demon. A Demon who could force others to make contracts with them, a demon who could use the power of the demons who they had a contract with.

Manipulation was your middle name. Overlords respected you and some feared you.

~☆~~☆~☆~☆

Carmilla was always wary around you, knowing your power. Her angel weapons were in reach whenever you attended a meeting. She could see behind that fake smile and eyes.

~☆~☆~☆

Zestial was amazed by your power. He knew he was strong and heavens you were stronger. He would start conversations with you only to try and get on your good side.

~☆~☆~☆

Rosie loved you, she knew you could put all the cannibal town against her but that was just amazing in her eyes, not to say, you using other overlord powers was something to enjoy.

Something she got to know was that you could force a sinner to say a name and by moving your hand that one named would explote.

~☆~☆~☆

Alastor was...well he was interested. He wanted to know if you could get him out of his own contact but then again for that he would have to confess that he had a leash on. Something he did not want to do at all.

~☆~☆~☆~

When Charlie first meet you she was...scared. Listening to your name being told and the stories....but she was sure something good was in everybody so of course she opened her hotel doors for you. Even if you were only there to see the place.

~☆~☆~☆

Vaggie straight up hated you. If Alastor was a pest then you were worse. She did not want nothing to do with you. But she also knew she was no competition against you. Specially after seeing your spiral eyes as you moved away her weapon.

"Please, at least learn how to proper use it, angel"

~☆~☆~☆~

Lucifer was charmed!!

Yes the king of hell fell for your sweet words and compliments like a young fella.

"Your majesty its a pleassure to meet the one who rules in here" You said bowing towards the short king who was suprised by your polite self.

You ended showing him the place after Alastor killed the other sinners and told him sweet nothings about hell and him. How you always have wanted to meet him (no). And he ate all up.

That night Lucifer ended on his bed blushing hard thinking about you.

~☆~☆~☆

Vox had tried to follow you only to end with a panic attack as he saw your spiral eyes staring back at him from one monitor.

"Its not polite to spy you know"

And now Vox has nightmares of you.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader #vox x reader #carmilla x reader #zestial x reader

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explicit-tae · 5 months

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Metamorphosis (2/2)

A look into your demonic pregnancy leading up to you giving birth to your and Jungkook's son - and prior to being dragged to Hell. Part 1 | Alternative Universe Masterlist | Halloween Masterlist

Word Count: 8.494

Warning: mentions of blood, blood drinking/cannibalism, character death, animal death, blood drinking, kissing, fingering, mentions of oral sex, pregnant sex,

NINE MONTHS BEFORE DRAGGED TO HELL

“Pregnant?” your mother nods her head slowly. Her eyes move from your face to your stomach. There isn’t a bump, and if there was, it’d be far too small to notice from afar.

“Yeah.” you murmur.

Your mother wasn’t the judgment type - she, after all, didn’t live an ideal life. She dealt with the looks often when you were a child besides her wife (your mother before she passed) at church or other places.

However, it wasn’t her judgment that you were worried about - it was mainly your own. You wouldn’t tell your mother that you were pregnant by a demon and was now carrying his seed. You hated yourself and your unfortunate life events enough.

“One night stand?” your mother asks you. She now has a worried look on her face. “Unless you have a boyfriend…?”

You’re unsure what to tell her. Jungkook was not just a one-night stand - you see the man every night (unfortunately). But if you did tell her that Jungkook was your boyfriend to avoid feeling even more stupid, then she’d ask to meet him. And that’s not something you’re sure you wanted - you and Jungkook were not a family. He was a demon that forced you into this situation of carrying his demonic seed.

You swallow and your mother doesn’t press the issue any longer.

“You’re keeping it, I assume?”

You didn’t want to. “Yes.”

Your mother knits her brows. “You don’t look excited.” She wants to joke, but the tension is noticeable. “Don’t go through with this if you aren’t ready, Y/N.”

You want to scoff at her ignorance. She didn’t know that you’ve already tried to get rid of the demonic seed - and said seed had killed your doctor right before you. You’re unsure what it’ll do to you if you tried to kill it once more, even if it did need you to survive for now.

“But if you do, you know I’m always here for you.”

Your heart thumps out your chest.

You don’t want your mother to be a part of your pregnancy journey - not because you didn’t love her or want to share this moment. But because you didn’t want her to get attached to this demonic child. You didn’t want her to be hurt by it, either.

“I know.” you tell her, a sullen look upon your face.

A strained smile, appearing more like a grimace, is what your mother gives you in return. She doesn’t want to pry into your life any more than she needs to. You’re an adult and could make your own decisions. It was her responsibility to be there for you when you needed her to be.

“Are you hungry? I have some fruit in the fridge that I just cut.”

You nod your head. One thing you’ve noticed was your growing appetite. Pregnancy cravings wouldn’t be like this if you were pregnant with a human fetus. You always felt hungry or thirsty, appetite never truly satiated.

“I’m going to go get dinner started since that’s what you’ve come for.” your mother snickers. She lifts up from the kitchen table and makes her way towards the fridge. She grasps the large bowl of fruit. She grabs you a spoon and makes her way back towards you.

“Thank you.” you hum, stomach rumbling. “I’m gonna go watch something.” you tell her before making your way out of the kitchen, bowl in hand.

You do exactly that. You begin to eat the fruit rapidly, humming with satisfaction. If you could look at yourself now, you’d be certain that you looked like a starving pathetic mess.

“Oh shit.” you hiss.

It’s been about 15 minutes and you just noticed that you ate all of the fruit. The spoon you once had has long been discarded and you ate with your hands, snatching the slippery fruit and shoving it in your mouth.

Licking your lips, your face burns with self pity and embarrassment. More so because you were still hungry, as sad as it sounded.

Your right hand touches the empty bowl and you shriek when the bowl suddenly disappears, but in its place is a plate of raw meat - a large bloody steak. You slam the plate down onto the coffee table with wide eyes.

You lift yourself from the couch and make your way down the hall to the bathroom. You slam the door shut behind you and fall to your knees to vomit right into the toilet. The amount would be alarming if you haven’t already grown accustomed to doing so daily.

“Our son is a part of you now.”

You feel a hand on the top of your back, gently rubbing circles. You would be startled if this wasn’t something Jungkook did often. He would creep into your life whenever you were alone - and sometimes you swore you could hear him in your thoughts even when he wasn’t there.

“You shouldn’t ignore his preferences.”

You spit into the toilet a final time then flush. “Raw meat is not a preference.” you hissed. “It sounds like he wants to kill me.”

Jungkook watches as you rinse your mouth out, leaning against the bathroom wall. “You aren’t going to die.”

“I’m human. Unlike you. Or this thing you put inside of me.”

Jungkook blinks, lips in a thin line. “Our son.”

You glance into the mirror to look at Jungkook. His crimson eyes are staring right at you and he isn’t amused.

“You feel sick because our son feels everything you do.” Jungkook takes a step closer.

“Hatred and self-pity?” you snort.

Once again, Jungkook isn’t amused.

“Nothing is going to kill you. Not raw meat, not our son or me.” Jungkook speaks. “You’re basically immortal until you give birth. Each day our son grows stronger and you would temporarily gain his powers.”

You feel like vomiting again at the thought of being able to conjure raw meat - all because the child prefers it.

“Turn around, my beautiful human.”

You exhale a breath and turn towards Jungkook. At your actions, he grins down at you. A hand places itself onto your cheek.

“Having powers is new to you. Humans are so weak.” Jungkook chuckles.

“I don’t want any powers.” you tell Jungkook. Maybe if you were a child wishing to fly or be invincible - but this was not that. You could feel yourself changing everyday and it frightened you. This was real - you were pregnant with a demon fetus by a demon who refused to leave you alone.

“You’ll have to adjust. For our son.” Jungkook traces your lips with his thumb and you hate the way your heart jolts at his actions. “How do you feel right now?”

You swallow.

Your stomach no longer churned and you didn’t have the urge to vomit. The fear, nausea and anxiety were slowly drifting away as if the weight of the world were no longer on your shoulders, even if you knew deep down that your situation was completely against your control.

“Hm.” Jungkook hums, tilting his head. He can read your thoughts, after all. “Like I know. You feel better because I’m here. Our son feels at ease when I’m around.”

Jungkook drops his hand from your face to your stomach. There was nothing for him to touch, no bump. Yet and still, he does.

You feel warm, a strange sensation flowing through you.

You inhale.

“Our son can never fully feel at ease with just you because he understands how you feel about him. The disgust, the anger. Hatred.” Jungkook is whispering now, as if trying to speak to just you and not the unborn fetus. “You’ll adjust, my beautiful human. All you have to do is give in. Stop thinking about just you and think about our son.”

You want to roll your eyes. Jungkook was guilt tripping you - and you were falling for it. He was right. Whenever Jungkook was with you, you never felt anything but comfort. You weren’t constantly in your own thoughts thinking about your situation. The fetus was demonic and therefore is more advanced than a human child at its stage.

‘He.’ Jungkook pipes in, entering your mind. His crimson eyes burning into your own. ‘Refer to our son as he, not an it.’

You sigh.

“You’re hungry.” Jungkook speaks and you’re unsure if he’s talking to you or the fetus. His hand gently rubs your stomach. “You can’t just eat what you usually do. Remember your body is changing. You’re feeding a demon.”

You grimace. The thought of eating raw meat disgusts you. Not only because it’s raw and bloody - but because the aroma entices you. It makes your mouth water and you want nothing more than to sink your teeth inside of it.

“You eat raw meat?” you question meekly.

Jungkook nods. “I eat everything.”

That statement alone frightens you.

“Don’t give me that look.” Jungkook chuckles low at your expression. “I can feed off of anything. You feed me all the time.”

You’re hot at his response and you want to push him away.

Jungkook only comes closer to you. “As a demon, I do not need to physically eat to be fed. You feed me with sex, yes. But you also feed me with your aura, emotions. I can go out and do the same with other humans. They won’t satiate me because they aren’t you, so I don’t.” Jungkook turns you around once more so you can face the mirror. He embraces you from behind, grasping your hand and placing it upon your stomach, his large hand on top yours.

“I cannot tell you what I do as a demon, because then you’ll be frightened of me.” And Jungkook has already gotten you used to his presence and he refuses to go back to you being disgusted with him (prior and after sex, never during). “But I feed off of human’s fear and negativity.”

There’s a sharp pain in your rib and you hiss slightly. Another thing you’d have to get used to. The fetus had strength like no other. The amount of times you woke in the middle of the night to it - he - kicking you was insane.

“If I feel like sinking my teeth into something. I can feed off of human food, yet it’ll never satiate me enough. Just like you, eating human food will never satisfy our son.” Jungkook rubs your stomach, his palm warm. The sharp pains stop and you ponder if it’s something Jungkook was doing.

“You’re going to be disgusted because you are not yet a demon.” The word yet doesn’t fly past your ears, but you allow Jungkook to continue. “But as our son grows, so will your appetite. You’ll crave more than raw meat.”

“What else do demons eat?” You’re afraid to ask, especially looking at Jungkook’s soft smile through the mirror's reflection.

“Blood. Both animal and human.”

Your throat tightens.

“Demons also consume humans raw or they can be cooked.”

Your mouth salivates and your eyes begin to water. You want to vomit at his words. The thought of the child being so hungry that you consume human meat and blood…

But then as you think about it, you’re even more frightened by how hungry you’re beginning to feel at the thought of it.

Jungkook places his chin on your shoulder and smirks. Slowly, you were going to come around. As a human, you were naturally weak and simple minded - but you’d change. You’d eventually come to trust him and love the child growing inside of you. You were a woman after all, and women tend to be nurturing and loving.

“You can even drink my blood.”

Your brow knit together at Jungkook’s words.

“Some demons also feed on other demons. That’s more of a power gaining way, however, it’s still possible. Since you are bound to me, it’ll be more of an intimate type of way.” Jungkook speaks. He holds your gaze in the mirror, not faltering.

“Is this another way for you to have my soul or something?” Drinking a demon's blood was not something you’ve ever heard of, but it had to be more than what Jungkook was letting on.

Jungkook chuckles. You were smart, he thinks. However, humans could never be as smart as a demon. “Your soul already belongs to me. As does your body, mind, heart and your womb.” But, you’d come to love and trust him a little quicker if he had his blood flowing through you.

You sigh in defeat.

“Would you like to try it?”

You swallow and shake your head.

Jungkook hums. “Afraid you’d like it?”

Yes. “No.” you quip. “I-I…I’m human.” you blink away to avoid his eyes. “It’s just too much to handle right now.”

“You cannot keep starving our son. How about you eat the steak first and get accustomed to animal blood. Then we’ll transition from there.”

EIGHT MONTHS BEFORE DRAGGED TO HELL

“That’s what I needed to talk to you about. I can’t stay.”

Your boss slowly turns to look at you. “Why not?”

“I told you I can no longer do any overtime.” you murmur.

You were slowly accepting the fact that you were pregnant by Jungkook and though he was a demon, you suppose it had perks to it.

One of the perks was conjuring, as Jungkook put it. Your son was growing rapidly as was his powers. You were able to conjure up whatever he desired, and also whatever you did. But sometimes it was something you could not control. You recall sitting at your desk thinking about how thirsty you were and had been shocked when in front of you sat a gallon of water. You sat embarrassed when you drunk the entirety of it in under five minutes.

Being pregnant also meant you were always hungry and tired, the demonic child completely draining you at times. You only felt energy when Jungkook was around and holding you. You’re positive he was using his own demonic powers to give you energy, but you never asked and he never confirmed anything.

With furrowed brows, your boss scoffs. “It’s not like you have anything else to do.”

You blink.

“You’re single and pregnant.” your boss continues and now you’re taken aback. “Don’t you think you need the money?”

You can feel your blood boiling. The office was getting empty by the minute, your co-workers all scattering off. You would stay late with your boss to do extra work at times, but it was never mandatory. You were always getting pushed over and were far too nice to tell your boss to fuck off.

“I…” you’re unsure what to say. “Who says I’m single?”

That’s seriously what you’re upset about, being assumed a single mother? But you couldn’t help it. You wore a ring for heaven's sake - sure it was given to you by a demon, but it was still a ring! You’re unsure if Jungkook meant what he said about the two of you being married - again, demon and human. You and he were nod wed at a church like you always imagined you’d be, but you were bound together.

Your boss snickers once more.

“Well I never see a man pick you up. Your lunches are often spent alone. I don’t judge, Y/N. Single mothers are all around the world.”

You shake your head at your boss's words.

“If anything, if you are dating someone, the guys an asshole for allowing you to work while pregnant anyways-”

Your boss suddenly screams. You flinch away from him with wide eyes as your boss is engulfed in flames. Literal flames. The pale blue and orange flames engulf him entirely, the smell of burning flesh meets your nostrils.

The fire alarm is loud, and soon you’re being wet due to the sprinkles above you. You're frozen and your eyes are wide with shock and fear. The loud screams echo in your ears and all you can do is watch as your boss lays onto the ground.

The scenery changes in an instant and you’re no longer in the office, but your bedroom. You swallow, shuddering.

“My beautiful human…”

Jungkook appears before you. He frowns at your appearance.

“You’re wet.” Jungkook hums. “And trembling. You’re probably wondering what’s wrong.”

You sob, utterly confused at what in the world that just transpired in a matter of seconds. Your knees buckle and when you feel as if you’re going to fall to your knees, Jungkook catches you.

“I told you that our son will get stronger as time goes on.” Jungkook speaks, tone soft. “You will gain his power and if it isn’t controlled, it will be unruly.”

You gasp.

Oh no.

“I-I did that?” you’re horrified.

Jungkook wants to coo at your innocence. “Of course you did. Our son played a big role. He doesn’t like when anyone bad-talks his parents.”

Jungkook's expression shows that of a proud father, but you’re more terrified than anything else.

“You also wanted to.” Jungkook continues. “You felt it in you, right? The way your blood boiled. The anger.”

You snap your eyes shut. You never wanted to hurt anyone before, but Jungkook was correct. The anger you felt at your bosses words - how you were assumed to be a single mother that just needed the money because of that reason. How sinister your boss spoke to you - as if you weren’t a human that deserved decency.

“It’s okay, my beautiful human.” Jungkook rubs your back to calm you. He can sense the rise in your heart beat. “You’ve done what you thought was right. Give in to it.”

You swallow. “I-I…I don’t think I can go back.”

“You don’t need to.” Jungkook assures. “What are you working for when everything can be provided for you by me?”

“I do have bills.” you retort.

Jungkook snorts. “Bills are something humans created out of boredom. That isn’t something you have to worry about.” Jungkook leans away to have a look at you. “How about you come live with me?”

You flinch away from him. “In Hell?” you appear as if Jungkook’s hands burned you by the way you smacked them away.

“Don’t be foolish, Y/N. I won’t be taking you to Hell.” Yet, Jungkook thinks. “Demons do have to hide in the human realm. I have a home where I often stay while on Earth.”

You blink.

You never thought about where Jungkook goes when he isn’t with you. You always assumed he went to Hell - how he got there you weren’t sure. Yet again, he came and went as he pleased whenever he wanted to.

“It’ll be easier for me to keep an eye on you. You don’t have to work. Don’t want you burning the whole place down, do we?”

Jungkook’s attempts at a joke isn’t amusing. You have never been more terrified in your life, and knowing now that you were the reason for it sends shivers up your spine.

“I guess so.”

Jungkook smiles at you, a smile that meant more than you were looking into.

SEVEN MONTHS BEFORE DRAGGED TO HELL

“Isn’t it cute?” your mother beams as she holds up the small article of clothing.

You swallow, grasping it in your hands. It’s a baby’s onesie - one that’s soft at the touch and so small that it causes your heart to swell. It’s gray, your mother’s attempt to be gender neutral, and comes with a little hat.

“Have you gone to see what the gender is?” your mother asks you.

You blink up from the onesie and slowly nod your head.

You haven’t gone, of course. You had put all of your trust into Jungkook - a part of you screaming that it was a bad idea. However, you didn’t need your son (or you) killing anyone else.

Jungkook assured that the baby was safe and the happiest he’s ever felt. You moved in with Jungkook - shocked to see that he lived in a secluded estate deep in a forested area - and never truly had to worry about anything. You had an unlimited amount of food - even raw meat supplied by your son - and always rested for as long as you wanted; going as far as sleeping a full 24 hours.

“It’s a boy.” you murmur.

Your mother’s eyes widened and slowly, so did her smile. She suddenly wraps you in a tight embrace - a sudden one. You were frightened by the suddency of it. You didn’t want the baby to assume she was attempting to hurt you and have your mother fall to the same fate as the doctor and your boss.

“That’s so lovely.” your mother exclaims during her hug. When she releases you, you sigh in relief. “A boy is a blessing.”

You could only give a soft smile.

“Come. Let’s look for more clothing now that I know I’m having a grandson.”

Your mothers excitement is refreshing. You try not to think of the future when you give birth. If the baby had such strength and power while not being born, you can imagine what he would be like just as a newborn or a toddler. The thought often keeps you wondering, even if Jungkook assures you that everything would be alright.

Your mother was right about one thing. When she dragged you from her home while visiting her to a baby boutique, she said it would bring you joy to buy things for the baby. She recalls the times she did the same for you before you were born, both of your mothers joyfully picking out everything pink and girly - just for you to soon get tired of the bright colors; how ironic.

Your hand places itself onto the bump of your stomach - that has since grown in size. You’re positive that normal women weren’t this size at just three months, but you would have to remind yourself that your circumstances weren’t the same as anyone else's.

In your free hand is an all black pajama onesie. It’s basic, nothing truly special about it. There was no graphic or letter on it, however it caught your attention.

You feel a kick on your lower stomach, and you snort. “You like it, too?” you murmur to the child, the hand on your stomach gently rubbing. “You’ll look a lot like your father if you wore this. All black…”

Your body feels warm; euphoric. You shudder at the unfamiliar feeling. Your skin litters with goosebumps and your heart begins to jolt. Your mind blanks for a moment, and it’s as though you’re no longer in the boutique. You glance up from the onesie, completely still at the sight before you. It was an outer body experience, as if you’re watching yourself through a lens.

Humming, a low familiar tone you recall your own mothers humming to you. You see yourself, arms occupied with a baby as you rock said baby back and forth, humming the familiar tune to calm him down. The baby’s eyes are open and it’s then that you recognize the crimson eyes that are similar to Jungkook.

“Are you okay?”

When you blink, it’s as if the world comes back to normal. The soft music in the boutique continues, and you’re now looking at your mother.

What in the world just happened?

“Yeah.” you nod your head.

“Is that all you’re getting?”

You shake your head. “No. Just thinking…” you murmur.

Your mother doesn’t pry and you’re thankful for that.

‘Our son is communicating with you.’

Jungkook’s voice rings through your head. Your eyes glance around the boutique and you ponder where he could be at.

‘I’m not here, beautiful human. I still have access to you even if you are not with me.’

That explains things.

‘Our son has found a way to communicate with you. He’s telling you that he’s happy.’

You glance at your mother for a moment.

‘Didn’t you feel the euphoria run through you? Your mood has changed and now you’re glowing, my beautiful human. You see what happens when you accept the product of our bond?’

Everyday there’s something new with the child. You’ve already conjured whatever you desired, set someone on fire and a few times found yourself instant transferring yourself somewhere. Jungkook called the action ‘blinking’ and you could only do it a couple feet away, however you did it regardless. Now knowing that the fetus is communicating with you sends shivers up your spine.

Later on that night, you find yourself in the forest area. The sun has since set and you were alone. You’re unsure where Jungkook was, but you never dwelled on it. He always returned right before you went to bed.

In any other situation, you’d be frightened to walk alone at night - especially in such a secluded area. However, it was as if fear was slowly removing itself from your life. You recall Jungkook’s words from months prior. You were immortal now in a way. Whatever threat your son felt was eliminated and a deep part of you feels liberated about it.

Your head snaps when you hear a sound like leaves rustling. Your eyes squint, the only source of light is the moon above.

It appears to be the size of a dog, you note. You’ve never seen a fox up close before. Its fur is an auburn color and its eyes stare right at you, unmoving.Suddenly, its tail begins to move, the thick bushy swooping back and forth.

You take a step closer and, alerted, the fox begins to flee.

Your mind doesn’t register what you’re doing. Your feet already pick up and now you’re chasing the fast animal. Your speed astonishes you. You’re pregnant, appearing more far along into pregnancy then what you actually were. You don’t recall when you’ve ever run this fast in your life.

In a matter of seconds, your scenery changes and you’re in front of the fox, startling it. Your fingers dig into the thick fur of the fox and you fall to your knees. You aren’t aware of what you’re doing, not even when your teeth - now sharp and canine like - sink into the foxes neck.

You don’t register the screeching the fox does when you repeatedly sink your teeth into it, blood splatting onto your clothing, hands and face. The taste hits your mouth and you’re unable to stop the feast, the blood hitting your throat and satiating a thirst you weren’t aware you held.

Only when the animal was drained did you realize what you’ve done - and what you could possibly look like now. Your eyes widened and you began to shake. Suddenly, right beside the drained dead fox, did you vomit.

SIX MONTHS BEFORE DRAGGED TO HELL

You cried and cried and cried that night you killed an animal with your bare hands. And now, a month later, you continue to cry as you’re covered in animal blood. You’re disgusted with how good it tastes and how willing you are to keep doing it.

“You’re going to have to stop crying eventually.” Jungkook dips the ring he has given you underneath the running water. “You’re feeding our son. You should never feel saddened about that.”

“I killed it with my bare hands!” you wail, hiccuping. Your stomach churns for even more blood - your son just wants to mock you, you’re sure.

Jungkook turns off the water and sighs. He places the ring to dry on a paper towel before turning to you.

“As you should. Our son needs to eat.” Jungkook takes a few steps closer to your weeping figure. “Come on, my beautiful human. Let’s go bathe.”

Bathing with Jungkook was something he insisted on doing every once in a while - he understands it calms you down, even when you won’t admit it.

The shower and the tub are separate and the water is warm upon entering. You feel self-conscious about your naked body at times, it was growing hard to see your own feet or anything below you as you walked. But you were making the most of your situation.

The water running down the drain is red, obviously due to the animal that you slaughtered and ate. You rub along your skin with the warm water and sigh when you feel yourself slowly start to calm down.

You feel a cold substance on your shoulders and you shudder. Then, there’s hands - Jungkook’s - rubbing along them. You sigh, melting into his touch. For a moment, it’s silent and neither of you say anything. The shower water slaps against the floor as Jungkook’s hands work along your neck.

“Our son is getting stronger.” Jungkook says. “His hunger will grow as he does. You can’t keep crying each time you kill an animal.”

Your head falls back against Jungkook’s chest and you sigh. “I know.” you say, but it didn’t make things any better. “I just feel bad afterwards.”

“You eat meat all the time.” Jungkook snorts.

“That I don’t have to kill!” you retort.

Jungkook is silent and you take it upon yourself to finish your shower, making sure to wash every inch of you until you’re satisfied. Once you were, you turned towards Jungkook to find that he also had been washing. His eyes are on you, and slowly, a smile forms onto his lips.

“Let’s bathe.” he says, rinsing himself off.

Jungkook doesn’t allow any retorts. With a flick of a hand, the shower turns off and the bath - around 10 feet away from the shower - turns on. You watch as he sits inside the bath, back against the cold tub. “Come.” he says.

You roll your eyes, but comply.

“Don’t face me.” Jungkook says. “I want us both to relax.”

Relaxing means your back against Jungkook’s chest while he lays a hand upon your bump. It’s like your son always knows when Jungkook’s near, you can see just how your stomach shifts wildly.

“Would it be better if I killed the animals for you?” Jungkook asks suddenly. His hands rub another part of your stomach to meet the baby’s kicks and it looks like a game between the two.

You shrug your shoulders. “Not really sure what the difference is. I’m still going to feel sad about it.”

“You humans are fragile.” Jungkook snorts. “The difference is you wouldn’t have to be so bloody at the end of it all.”

“I suppose you’re right.” you hum, but you didn’t want to talk about that anymore. The water is the perfect temperature and it relaxes your nerves throughout. Whatever game your child and Jungkook was playing seemed to die down, he was no longer kicking or punching.

“My beautiful human…”

You feel Jungkook’s lips on your neck, placing soft kisses. You’re already knowing what the man wants, especially when his hand dips down from your bump to between your legs.

“Should’ve known this was just an excuse to get between my legs.” you acknowledged.

You feel a tickle from Jungkook’s breath, a chuckle at your response. “The same legs that are widening for me to gain more access?”

Jungkook had a point, you think. There’s a hand gripping your breast while the other begins to play with your clit. You bite your lip at the feeling.

It’s crazy to think how domesticated you became. You no longer shied away from Jungkook when it came to sex - because it was inevitable. He was going to take you regardless if you denied him or not; the hot throbbing feeling between your legs growing needier by the second if you hadn’t.

Not only with sex, but you became happy to see Jungkook - as if he wasn’t a demon fated to ruin your human life. You wake up with Jungkook by your side, a hand on your stomach. You and he ate together - what human food you could tolerate - and you didn’t feel like being with him was a burden.

Your son was happiest when Jungkook was around, too. The kicks that would send shockwaves through your body only ever happened when the man was close - it was how you knew Jungkook was near before he made his presence known.

“I can never keep my hands from you, my beautiful human.” Jungkook steadies two fingers inside of you. “You’re glowing.”

You snicker, but it’s died down with a moan. Jungkook begins to pump inside of you, the splashing of the water evident with the pace he’s going.

“Our son is sucking all the life out of me.” you retort. You never looked like yourself. There were times you’d look in the mirror and swear you’d seen a ghost - and even the faintest crimson color in your eyes.

Jungkook freezes, his kissing on your neck coming to a halt.

“What’s wrong?” you question, ready to remove yourself from him when Jungkook brings you back.

“This is the first time you called him our son.” Jungkook says, a small smirk forming onto his lips against your skin. Slowly, you were adjusting to the changes Jungkook had forced upon you - like you should be.

“Not like you gave me a choice.” you murmur in defense. “I stopped calling him an it months ago.”

You have, but to hear you say our son like you have is different, but the demon doesn’t dwell on it, he had a job to do, and it was to make you cum.

TWO MONTHS BEFORE DRAGGED TO HELL

The first time you’ve tried human blood had your taste buds going crazy - you swore you’ve never tasted anything as savory before. You never wanted anything else afterwards, and if you did, it had to be drenched in human blood.

The raw streak you ate had a blood bag of human blood, obtained by Jungkook who always satiated your thirst for blood.

There was a time in which you ate fries with a side of human blood because ketchup couldn’t satisfy you or your son.

Jungkook likes to watch you eat - enjoys feeling his son's demonic aura. You’ve grown in size, far larger than a human pregnancy. His son was large; small hand and foot prints pushing against your stomach to be released.

Jungkook likes to watch you eat because now you no longer cared about how you looked. Your appearance took a slight change - thanks to the child. Your eyes matched his own, the crimson color. Your face appeared more full, as did your breast - an action he wasn’t opposed to.

You now fully embraced that you were birthing a demon and you’d remain by his side for eternity - and now that you’ve accepted the fact, it made things easier.

“Damn it.” your mother curses, dropping the sharp knife she was holding. It clunks against the ground, droplets of blood falling besides it.

Your eyes zone in on your mother clenching her finger. This was the first time she was in your home - she insisted on cooking for you and Jungkook as this was the first time she’s been meeting him.

The iron smell of your mothers blood reaches your nostrils and there’s a low groan that releases from your lips.

‘No.’ you tell yourself. ‘Not her.’

You swallow. “Are you okay?”

Your mother snickers. “Yeah. Just cut myself. Let me get this cleaned up.”

Your mother turns on the faucet to clean the blood from her finger. You release a sigh, placing a hand upon your stomach. Your son is moving, obviously having sensed the human blood near.

‘I can’t eat her.’ you tell your son, stern with your choice. The fetus is upset, sending a few kicks against your spine, but you were adamant.

“Is everything alright?”

Jungkook blinks into the room on que, thankfully your mother had her back turned.

‘Why is our son trying to break your back?’ Jungkook asks you, his eyes on your face. But before you can answer, he eyes your mother and can smell the blood.

“Luckily for you,” Jungkook places a white cup with a lid and straw in your hand and gives you a wink. “I’ve brought refreshments.”

Your mother loves Jungkook - who knows demons can make break impressions. She had not suspected he was anything but human and you’ve noted that this was the first time you saw Jungkook had dark eyes instead of the crimson ones.

You’ve never seen Jungkook interact with anyone that wasn’t you and the act appeared…human like. He ate your mothers cooking, he complimented it. He laughed and joked with your mother and oftentimes would place a hand on your bump when your son was craving more than what your mother cooked.

“I think you two are good together.” your mother says at the door while she wraps you in a hug. “You look…happy. So alive.”

You laugh. “Do I?” you aren’t sure if you can call it thought. You were drinking human blood to satisfy the demon growing inside of you.

“Yes. You’re glowing.” your mother takes a look at you with a soft smile. “I haven’t seen this glow since…”

You know where she’s going, but she doesn't say it. She doesn’t wish to ruin a happy moment between the two of you.

Once your mother is gone, you’re left with Jungkook. He snaps his fingers and the dishes in the sink are gone.

“I can’t believe he was trying to break my back.” you sigh, placing a hand on your stomach. There’s no movement, probably means he was relaxed now after all the mayhem he was causing earlier.

“Yes.” Jungkook places a hand on the top of your bump. “It would’ve healed automatically. Still a stubborn one.”

Like father like son, you think, and all Jungkook can do is hum in agreement.

Sex with Jungkook became a habit - more now than ever. You never questioned him when he said he found you irresistible. You looked ready to explode and you never had any true stamina to help - but Jungkook never cared. He always insisted on eating you out until you’re squirming, suckling on your clit as if his demonic life depended on it.

Even now as you allow Jungkook to fuck into you while you were on top, Jungkook couldn’t help but want to coo at your thoughts - and give you what you want.

‘You can bite me, my beautiful human. It won’t hurt.’

You flush hot when you hear Jungkook in your head - that meant he was listening in to what you were thinking. Yet, you shouldn’t be alarmed because he did it so often.

And all you were thinking about was biting him, your mind flooding with his words of months prior. How drinking his blood would be intimate for the both of you.

And now you didn’t care, no longer feeling the disgust as you did months ago. Your teeth gradually sink into the skin of Jungkook’s neck and you bite harshly until you feel the taste of irony on your tongue.

The act alone causes Jungkook to fuck into you harder, fingers bruising into your hips. He grunts a few swear words as your tongue licks upon the bleeding wound. If your former self could see you now - willingly sucking on Jungkook’s neck for any type of blood while he fucks you to his heart (did demons have hearts?) content.

Jungkook’s eyes marvel at you, blood - his blood - trailing down your chin. Your eyes resembled his own (side-effects of the pregnancy) and you appeared to be like a true demon.

‘My beautiful wife.’ Only slightly does your eyes widen from hearing Jungkook in your mind and you’re beginning to think you were hearing things - but you weren’t. This was the first time Jungkook had called you his wife - not beautiful human, but his wife.

Jungkook wraps you in an embrace to bring you closer to him, his lips on your chest. His own teeth sink into you, quivering with pleasure when your blood hits his tongue. His thrusts never stop, not until you’re cumming around him so beautifully and he does the same inside of you.

ONE MONTH BEFORE DRAGGED TO HELL

“I’m trying.” Jimin grits his teeth at the younger demon. “You’ve been gone for months, Kook. They’re asking questions.”

“Then tell them something to make them stop asking questions.” Jungkook hisses back.

“They’re not going to stop asking questions.” Taehyung’s voice sounds from behind Jungkook. “There’s been rumors.”

“Rumors?” Jungkook furrows a brow and scoffs. “What rumors-”

“The infamous Jungkook has grown soft in the Human realm.” Jimin announced, a teasing tone in his voice. “You haven’t been back to the Underworld in so long they’re beginning to think you found someone here.”

“Have you?” Taehyung asks, blinking besides Jimin, to lean against the wall of his kitchen. “Don’t give me that look, Kook…it’s just a question.”

“I’ve been working.”

“On?” Jimin questions.

“Why is it any of your concern?”

“You’ve always told us.” Taehyung retorts. “It’s not like you to leave the Brotherhood without as much as a word.”

“I’m not leaving the Brotherhood.” Jungkook scoffs. “I have business to attend to here.”

“What’s that?” Jimin stands from his seat, eyes roaming around the room. “Do you feel that?”

Jungkook swallows, tongue in his cheek. His son always had the perfect timing to be awake and showcasing whatever power he had.

“Yeah.” Taehyung glances at Jungkook. “It’s faint but-”

Jimin blinks away and Jungkook already knows where he’s going. He does the same, leaving Taehyung stunned and in the kitchen.

Jungkook is in front of your sleeping figure before Jimin is, eyes glaring at the older demon.

“Well…” Jimin’s eyes are on you - more so your stomach. “Looks like the child wants out.” the tiny foot and hand prints are pushing against your stomach and not once did you stir, having grown used to it over the months.

“You…” Taehyung eyes you sleeping soundly upon the bed and then back to Jungkook. “...asshole-”

“She’s asleep.” Jungkook hisses, lowering the tone in his own voice. As his son grew, he was growing restless, wanting out of you. He rarely allows you to sleep and now that you were able to, Jungkook wasn’t going to allow his brothers to ruin it.

“Are we going to ignore the obvious child in her stomach?” Jimin murmurs, eyeing your sleeping figure with a moving stomach. “How is she not waking by that alone?”

“She’s grown used to it.” Jungkook glances behind himself at you. He only allows a slight grin before he turns back to his two brothers. “Are you done here?”

Jimin is the first to blink away, followed by Taehyung. Jungkook sighs then does the same, now inside the kitchen once more.

“When were you going to tell us you’re having a son?” Jimin is upset, now facing Jungkook.

“I’m so upset.” Taehyung shakes his head.

Jungkook tilts his head. “I have my reasons.” is all Jungkook says.

Jimin scoffs. “We have to be there when he’s born. It’s a tradition.” he says matter-of-factly. “This is your first son. A new member of the Brotherhood.”

Taehyung watches Jungkook’s reaction. He opens his mouth to speak but doesn’t say anything. “Does she not know you’re a demon?” he asks, yet he isn’t sure it’s that. You had to have known that you were pregnant with a non-human child - the fetus was attempting to claw its way out of you as they speak.

“She does.”

Jimin waves his hand. “Then why are you keeping her from us?”

“I’m not.” Jungkook grits.

“He doesn’t know.” Taehyung states. “That’s why you’re still in the Human realm.”

Jimin furrows his brows, glancing between Jungkook and Taehyung.

Jungkook pokes his tongue through his cheek. He inhales deeply and then nods his head.

The Source did not know what he was doing or where he was at - and Jungkook was doing everything in his power to keep it that way. He only returns to the Underworld to report back to the Source monthly like all the demons do; especially the upper-level ones such as himself and the Brotherhood.

A hybrid child is not unknown to the Underworld, but rarely did the human parent survive - most times being killed. Hybrid children were often used to blend into the Human world, most times coming off as “more” humanly than that of a full demon who would have to mask their appearance.

However, Jungkook was not just a demon, but an upper-level one that worked closely to the Source. And though his brothers were accepting of you and his son, that didn’t mean the rest of the Brotherhood would.

“We have to tell the others before they come upon themselves.”

“No.” Jungkook is certain in his choice. “You’ve already called me weak.” Jungkook didn’t want to know what they’d attempt to do if they found you to be a problem with his demonic duties or his power.

“It’s not up for debate.” Taehyung began. “Like Jimin said, this is your first son and we’ll have to be there. It’s a tradition.”

Jungkook knew that it was inevitable - especially now that Jimin and Taehyung knew. He was anticipating that the baby would be born before the Brotherhood intervened - now his plans have changed.

“You love the human.” Jimin states. “Obviously, the Brotherhood isn’t going to like that.” he chuckles, but at Jungkook’s hard stare, he lifts his hands. “But don’t worry. You have us.”

“They aren’t going to allow you to keep the Human.” Taehyung speaks realism and not what Jungkook wants to hear to spare whatever feelings he holds for you. “Humans bring human feelings and we cannot risk you growing weak because of her.”

“What are you saying?” Jungkook’s eyes are narrowed at Taehyung and the tension in the room grows by the second.

“I’m saying you need to get rid of the Human.” Taehyung speaks, and it’s as if a pin drops; the silence that comes after Jungkook speaks. “Once the baby is born.”

Jungkook doesn’t react that he wants to - the Brotherhood never attacks their own. But there’s something in his body that holds everything back for him to not attack Taehyung and it’s an act that begins to frighten him - because his brothers were correct. Humans did bring human emotions and if just the thought of you being harmed has Jungkook feeling like this, then you already had a target on your back to prevent a shift in the Brotherhood.

“You can’t kill her. Nor can I.” Jungkook speaks, eyes hard on Taehyung. “We’re already bound together. Brotherhood rule.”

Jimin snickers at his two bickering brothers, both standing tall and refusing to back down. “He’s right, Tae.” Jimin speaks. “The Brotherhood cannot harm or kill a fellow brother’s bound partner.”

Taehyung scoffs with a shake of his head. “How far the Brotherhood has fallen.” he announces. “I’m beginning to think the rumors of you becoming weak are true.”

Taehyung is gone in a blink of an eye, leaving Jungkook and Jimin to look where he once stood.

“Taehyung will come around.” Jimin sighs. He’s tired of being the mediator between you and Taehyung’s bickering. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Jungkook swallows. “Do tell the Brotherhood to not return until my child is expected to be born.”

Jimin sighs but nods. Jungkook begins to step away and out of his kitchen. “And do tell anyone in the Underworld to test the rumors if they believe them to be true.

“I gave you my word, Y/N. That we'll be together.”

The Underworld isn’t what you’ve expected. Hell is always explained to be a fiery pit - nothing but flames enclosing around you.

This was far from it.

The Underworld was dark, only light there was lit by candles - thousands of them lit. It’s quieter than you expected, as well. You were once told that Hell was home to evil spirits and those who’d died, forever screaming at their ultimate demise.

Then again, Jungkook was a demon and you were never told that demons can look god-like.

Your ears pick up on soft coos, your attention fully on the baby in Jungkook’s arms. He was no longer a newborn, but appeared a few months older.

Your heart swells.

“It wasn’t easy to find your soul, Y/N.” Jungkook speaks, his access to your mind remaining. “But I made you a promise.”

“Can I hold him?” you question. If you asked Jungkook too many questions about the Underworld, what he did and why he did it, you’d be here for an eternity. Your only focus was on your son.

Jungkook watches the way you hold the baby close to you, your nose against his puffed up cheeks. There’s a few more coos from his son, his aura calm and content to have be in your presence once more.

“Jungkook….”

The man stands straighter at the sound of his name leave from your lips.

“...I’m not a human anymore, am I?”

Jungkook gently shakes his head. “No.”

You’re silent for a moment. “And I can’t return back…home?”

“No.” Jungkook murmurs.

You hold the baby closer to you, never wanting to let him go.

“What about my mother?” you dare to ask, but you’re unsure if you truly want the truth.

Jungkook licks his lips. “Time is different in the Human realm than it is in the Underworld.” he speaks. “I was leaving the decision to you.”

You glance up from the baby - who is now slowly falling asleep - to Jungkook. “What do you mean?”

“I know how much you cared for her.” Jungkook begins. For the months he’s been with you, your love for your mother remained strong and the pregnancy never ruined the routined you held with her. “To make things easier for her, I can have her memory of you erased.”

You stiffen. “E-Erased?” you question. “As if I was never there?”

Jungkook nods.

You’re unsure what you want Jungkook to do.

You didn’t want your mother to be so heavily involved in your pregnancy. You didn’t know if you’d survive birthing a demon and you didn’t want your mother to lose you and her wife.

Yet, she already has and that thought alone pains you enough.

“I don’t want her to forget us.” you murmur - and maybe it was selfish of you. Your mother would live through such pain alone - the pain of losing her only child and a grandchild she could never meet. “I want her to think we’ve died in childbirth. Can you do that?” It was harsh, you’d admit, but it was your own selfish desire to keep your mother as close as you could.

Jungkook nods.

“And…you can compel people, right? You have to compel her to accept the fact that I’m gone so she doesn’t try to look further into it.” you hold your son tighter, your voice cracking as you begin to speak.

“I understand.” Jungkook says. “My beautiful wife…” he trails off, coming closer to place a hand upon your cheek. His touch is warm just as you remembered it to be. He offers you a short smile then blinking out of your sight before you can speak.

@juju-227592 @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632 @darkuni63 @castlewolfsbane @babycandy111 @chimmy-licious @whipwhoops @chimmisbae @bangtans-momma

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nsharks · 4 months

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part sixteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.2k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

"I can't believe I woke up early for this."

You loosen your muscles, turning to dead weight in Ghost's arms, before using the awkward position to slip away.

"No one said you had to be here," Ghost throws over his shoulder before his gaze fleets back to yours. "Good. Again."

Blue groans as you reposition yourself for the basic defense maneuver. You can see why she'd find this boring— Ghost started you off with a move so basic it was almost insulting when he explained it. But you quickly realized his reasoning. Each time you do it, your pulse tampers down less and less while in his arms. He's had to remind you a few times to "Breathe, Twix"— the order so quietly uttered into the shell of your ear that Blue likely didn't even notice. Perhaps you have grown used to taking orders from him, or maybe having Blue close by is helping, because you've been able to ward off the threat of panic so far.

"Fine, I'm out of here," Blue rolls her eyes the second you've finished the move again. "Let me know when you—" she jabs a finger at Ghost, "—decide to make things more interesting." As she leaps off the log she'd been perched upon, she adds: "Oh, and don't get too close, Ghost. She might bite."

"So I've heard."

Heat rises to your cheeks. And then— you're alone with him. You take a swig of water from the canister Blue lent you to ignore the awkward feeling in your chest. "Again?" You wipe your mouth. "Or have I passed your test?"

"Test?" he repeats, the gravel in his voice rolling over the word as his brow lifts in question.

"Well, I haven't... had a repeat of last time, and it's been an hour. I think I've proved that I'm ready for something a little more..."

"More what?"

More interesting.

"Hand-to-hand, I guess. Something harder."

He rubs his jaw, as if to feign consideration. "Right, then. Let's try another one."

The next one he shows you is still simple, except you fail every other time. Basically, he gets behind you and you have to sidestep to avoid the trap of his arms. Somehow, Ghost's movements are light as a feather even though he's built like a rock.

But then you get better at it. The next two days pass in much the same manner until you start to react a bit faster. He teaches you a few more basic tactics. How to wriggle your wrist out of someone's hold. How to avoid being grabbed from the front by rolling to the ground. All defense. After hours spent with him, he doesn't even have to remind you to breathe anymore. Chopping wood in the evenings helps, too. You go to bed exhausted and wake up ready to practice before Ghost even touches your shoulder.

On the third day, he gets you up even earlier. You cram your wool-covered toes into boots, confine your hair in a hasty bun, and follow him to the clearing that has become your makeshift training ground. It takes you a moment to register that some things are different: his boots have been replaced by sneakers, and his jeans by loose, black gym shorts. The exposed skin is strange, making your eyes widen. If Blue were awake, she'd certainly comment.

His calves mirror the strength of the rest of him, and on the left leg, swirling ink catches your eye, reminiscent of the tattoos you discovered when tending to his wound. Skulls and a dagger; perhaps corny, but fitting for him.

"Have you tried it?" His voice cuts through your thoughts.

"Tried what?"

"The bow."

A white cloud forms around your mouth as you nod. "Needed some getting used to, like you said."

Yesterday you had a hard time shooting a chipmunk you wanted for lunch, so you spent the early afternoon firing arrows at oaks until the new bow started to feel like an extension of your limbs again.

"Let me know if I need to adjust the string."

"Will do," you say, almost mumbling.

When you reach the familiar circle of trees, you bounce once on your toes and crack your knuckles. Ghost retrieves something from his pocket. A roll of gauze. It is tossed at you without warning, and your hands fumble to grab it.

"Wrap up," he commands. "Your hands will thank you for it."

You look up at him, brows raised, but begin covering your palms and knuckles. When you're done, you throw the roll back to him. Ghost stretches his arms above his head and splays his feet into a firm stance, jerking his chin at you in a go-ahead motion. Your brows furrow as you try to understand what the fuck he's doing.

"Go on. Get ready."

"Um. Ready for what?"

"A little hand-to-hand."

Your mouth falls open. "What?"

He shrugs. "That's what you wanted, right? I think you're ready for it."

"That's not what I meant," you almost laugh, shaking your head. "I didn't mean I want to— to fight you. I just meant we don't have to stick to the basics."

"We won't." There is the slightest trace of amusement in his voice, so faint you wonder if it's even there. "You have ten seconds to get ready, Twix."

"I don't even—" you sputter, eyes flying open. If you weren't awake before, you are now. He seems completely serious, his hands in fists and his shoulders squared.

"Five."

"Oh, fuck me," you exhale, balling up your bandaged hands. Did he get you up at this hour so there was no chance of Blue joining? He didn't want her to watch him finally annihilate you? You don't think he would seriously hurt you, not after everything, but that doesn't mean your heart doesn't begin to thump wildly when the seconds are up. Neither of you makes the first move; you are focused on keeping yourself distant, and he is circling you like a predator, flicking his eyes along the length of you.

"What the fuck is that stance? I could just tap you and you'd fall over." His amusement has faded. "Is that how I showed you to stand when chopping wood?"

You shake your head, teeth gritted, and fix it, spreading your boots against the soil.

"Better."

Then, he's lunging. You forget everything about your stance and prance to the side like a skittish deer. There is a moment of relief when you successfully dodge him, only for it to abruptly end when he darts around your back and hooks an arm around your neck. Your heart skips over a beat. Holy shit is he fast.

"Be aware of your surroundings at all times," he chastises against the top of your hair. His hold is not aiming to fully restrain you, so when you claw your nails into his arm, it loosens and you slip away, staggering three strides before facing him with your fists up.

"What's the point of raising your fists if you're not going to hit me?" Ghost circles you again, and you have to shift your feet to keep up with him. "Come on, nurse. Where should you aim?"

"You're too tall." Your chest heaves. "I... I can't reach your face or neck without you blocking."

"Use the height difference to your advantage. Reach places that I can't."

You pause to think about it, studying him.

Ghost almost growls. "Stop hesitating. I could have killed you by now."

A mix of annoyance and determination makes you leap forward, jabbing your knuckles at the part of him where you know his liver would be. He captures you by the elbow before the blow can land, and sends you stumbling to the side, a few wisps of hair cascading over your face.

"Liver. Not bad. I might've let you have it if you moved quicker."

A hiss leaves your lips as you whirl around and punch directly into his core this time. He allows the hit, but your knuckles ram into solid muscle instead of the vulnerable stomach you hoped for, and you recoil with a wave of your hand, cussing under your breath.

"You hurt yourself more than you hurt me."

"Well, should I just kick you in the dick then?" you retort without thinking, flexing your fingers. Luckily, the gauze absorbed most of the damage.

"That's always an option."

His tone is serious, to the point that you almost give it a try, but then he's closing in on you again, sending you back to the defensive. He doesn't hold back. You run in circles and duck frantically, earning a few hits to your ribs. He doesn't use enough force to send you down to the ground, but enough to knock the wind out of you. Rapid breaths fire through your lungs and beads of sweat percolate your hairline. Ghost, on the other hand, appears unaffected.

"Fight back," he says in a mild voice; almost bored.

You nearly throw your arms up. "I would if you'd give me a fucking chance."

"You said not to coddle you."

"I'm aware. That doesn't mean you have to—"

Your spine suddenly meets something hard. A tree. He's backed you into it without you even realizing. When Ghost takes another swipe, you dip your head down and then use his recovery time to grab onto a branch and hoist yourself up.

You're barely perched upon it when a hand grips your ankle and drags you back down, an audible gasp reverberating in your chest as you land flat on your back with Ghost on top. His hand quickly cradles the back of your skull before it can crack on a hard tree root, while his other hand captures both of your wrists.

"You good?" Although he is the one who has you effectively pinned, his tone seems sincere. He scans your face from your forehead to your parted lips.

"Just... peachy."

His brows furrow. "What was your plan once you got up there?"

Labored breathing splinters your voice. "I didn't have much of a plan, really."

He speaks flatly. "I can tell."

"You had me cornered," you point out.

"You should have been—"

"Aware of my surroundings," you finish for him, exhaling deep through your nose. "I know."

Your eyes shift around, from his covered face to where his chest just barely presses into yours. It's all so close. Uncomfortably close. You can feel the steady pace of his heart against your sternum, and make out the faintest flecks of green in his eyes.

An ounce of fear and something else you can't quite discern balls up in your stomach, making you swallow. You've been pinned like this before and nearly had your face eaten. Ghost simply stares at you, as if waiting for you to make a move, but when you tug on your wrists, his grip doesn't relent.

"Could you... could you maybe get off of me?"

He shifts some weight off you, if only by a little. "Relax and think," he murmurs. "What are your options here?" The curve of his lips tightens before he adds, "Besides biting my nose off. I'd like to keep that for now."

With a sigh, your eyes slide up to the awakening sky. Hues of violet and orange stare down at you. "Do I... do I even have any options? You must weigh like a ton." The words are past your lips before you can shut your mouth.

"You always have options."

"Doesn't mean any of them will be effective," you say.

His eyes darken, and the green disappears. "Why do you do that?"

"Um... do what?"

"Doubt yourself. After all that you have survived." He sounds irritated.

"As if you haven't doubted me?" You can't help it; you scoff. "You told her I wouldn't come back that time I went on my own. I mean, I'm still weak, remember? No amount of chopping wood will make me as strong as you or those men who almost killed us."

"It's not about strength," he replies.

"That's easy for you to say," you wiggle your wrists for emphasis. "You have nothing to be afraid of. You were cut out for this shit from the start."

"I have everything to be afraid of." His eyes narrow, but his voice softens. "And so were you."

"Me?" Your voice slightly elevates, and a lick of anger curls within you. "I should be in grad school right now, or maybe I would've quit nursing and gone into something useless and hate my life, but I was never meant to kill anyone, let alone fight them. I was meant to be young and stupid and make mistakes. Now, if I make a fucking mistake, it will cost me my life." Your nostrils flare as you huff, sending a piece of hair flying up into his face, and you writhe beneath him. "Get off of me, Ghost."

But he doesn't.

Beats of silence linger in the small gap between your bodies.

You should feel embarrassed for saying all those things, but instead, you think about what he said:

Don't hesitate.

The ball inside you is a fiery mix of emotions that you usually try your damn hardest to ignore and break and shove away.

But now you let it spread through your body like a sizzling tide, from the tips of your fingers down to your toes and... to your knee. Before you can change your mind, you slam it upward as hard as you can into the apex of his groin.

"Fuck," Ghost mutters, the only sign of any pain aside from the brief moment that he closes his eyes.

His hold loosens only by a little, but it's enough for you to slip out from under him and find your way back to your feet, your chest rising and falling.

He clears his throat after a moment and rises.

"Good." The two of you share a stare-off for a few seconds before he shakes his head, saying again: "Good, Twix. More of that."

You rip your gaze away from him, cheeks hot, and say nothing as you snatch the canister and bring it to your lips, but the water does little to cool you down.

You shiver in the bitterness of twilight, your fingers red and numb, wishing for a pair of gloves. The fireflies are coming out, dots of luminescence darting around you. You swing the axe down again, throat raw as you grunt, and then you add the broken logs to the growing stack. Sudden light footsteps announce the end of your alone time.

"It's me," Blue greets kindly.

You drop the axe, hands feeling stiff, and turn to face her with a breathless smile. "Hey. What are you doing out here?"

"Checking on you. Ghost went hard on you this morning, huh?" she says with a sigh. "I could hear you guys. You were a bit... loud. Made it hard to sleep."

"Not too hard. I'm… I'm good."

If she is unconvinced, she doesn't comment on it. Rather, she hugs you. A warm one. You return the embrace before she pulls away.

"I also came because I wanted to invite you to a bonfire."

"Bonfire?"

"Well, with all your..." her eyes flicker to the pile of logs you've conjured over the past hour. "...special workouts, we have a lot of wood now. I told Ghost to make a big fire outside and we can cook dinner over it. It'll be fun, come on. Ghost is making tea, too."

Soon enough, your sore fingers are tingling, holding a warm, ceramic mug of tea. Ghost chucks another bundle of wood into the fire, spitting out smoke and embers, and sits on a tree stump while Blue takes the folding chair. Your hair is down, tucked behind your ears, and a patchwork quilt Blue grabbed from her room lays across your lap. The mug burns pleasantly against your lips when you take a sip, the herbal taste sliding down your throat. Whatever plants he used to make it work together perfectly. It reminds you of the tea your mom used to make when you were sick.

"Do you like it more well-done or is this okay?" Blue asks, meticulously spinning the skewered squirrel meat over the fire.

"That's good, thank you."

Ghost cooks their dinner, and the three of you eat and sip in a comforting silence. You avoid looking at him, opting for the starry sky above your head, where bold stars beam even brighter than the fireflies. It's quite nice. When you're done, you toss the bones into the fire and listen to them splinter.

Blue breaks the silence. "Would you rather be burned alive or be attacked by a bunch of squirrels with rabies?"

You take another sip of tea. "How many squirrels, exactly?"

She taps her chin. "One hundred."

"I think if it were fifty, I could handle them. One hundred, probably not. I'll choose being burned."

She makes a face. "That is a terrible death."

"Most deaths are terrible."

"Fair enough. Ghost?"

For the first time since this morning, you steal a glance. His elbows rest upon his splayed knees, and the orange flames reflect in his eyes as if they were twin black, mirrors. "I could handle the squirrels."

She snorts a laugh. "Even you can't survive rabies, though."

He shrugs. "Takes some time to kill you."

"Let's play a different game," you interject. "Maybe something a little less... morbid tonight."

"Like what?" Blue chimes.

You shrug indifferently. "What other ones do you know?"

"Not that many. You tell us one, Twix."

"Well, I know one good one. You have to act something out and then we'll guess what it is. But you can't talk."

"Oh, that's easy."

"Try it, then," you nod at her.

She leaps up from the chair, nearly spilling her tea in the process. Without hesitation, she puts on a stoic expression and begins shooting finger guns. Quiet laughter shakes your shoulders.

"Are you, um... Ghost?" you guess, making her throw her arms up.

"How did you guess so quickly?"

"It was a bit obvious."

"Not to me," Ghost murmurs. "Terrible impression, kid."

Across the fire, you glance at him again, and his eyes meet yours, reminding you of the events that took place and the words that you spat. Emotions pulse against your ribs, like a swarm of flickering fireflies, but you fail to catch and examine any of them.

A tug on your arm ends the shared look. Tea splatters around the rim of your mug as Blue ushers you up. "Your turn now."

"Alright, alright."

You decide not to feel humiliated with both pairs of eyes on you. They've both seen much stranger things than you act out a squirrel, which must be a good impression because Ghost guesses it right away.

A sudden crack of lightning in the distance puts an end to the game before Ghost can have a turn, which you suspect he is pleased about. He puts out the fire just before clouds roll in, blocking out the stars, and a drizzle of rain begins. Back inside, you kick off your boots and sink to the sofa as Blue says goodnight. Once she’s in her room, Ghost pauses in the threshold of the hall and speaks over his shoulder.

"Get some sleep. You'll need it for tomorrow, even if it's raining.”

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #fanfiction #cod #zombie apocolypse au

1K notes · View notes

space-mango-company · 15 days

Text

Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha fic #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #atreides reader #dune #dune part two #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

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doe-eyed-fool · 10 days

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Hi, I just discovered your page and am enjoying the Alastor and Lucifer fics, I was wondering if you could do an Alastor x Reader Wedding edition from Proposal/ Ceremony/Honeymoon? and also a tidbit of their marriage/Parenthood? Same for Lucifer? if it's not too much?

Married Life

Alastor x Reader | Lucifer x Reader

Thank you! I'm glad you like my fics, it makes me very happy! Enjoy~

Alastor

Proposal-

Alastor never thought he'd love someone like he does you. All his life he's gone without the need for romance. He's never had any interest in such things. But then you came along, and turned everything upside down.

You made him feel things he never thought he could. Of course these things take time, and even longer for Alastor. He had to make sure he was serious about this. He had to make sure you were serious about this. He would not give his heart to just anyone. You had to earn it and his trust.

And earned it you did. Yes he never thought he'd find love in all his years living and in death. Even more so, he never thought he'd ever do something like this. But here he was, on one knee, asking for your hand in marriage. Of course you said yes, and he couldn't have been happier.

Ceremony-

The wedding would most likely take place in Cannibal Town. Rosie would have been a huge help in arranging the ceremony. After all, Alastor was a good friend, and she'd do anything for him and his soon to be bride/groom. She would even be the one to wed you both.

Husk believe it or not, was Alastor's best man while Mimzy was your maid of honor. (and you know she injured a few girls to catch that bouquet)

Alastor couldn't ignore the sudden quickening pace of his heart as you walked down the isle. His smile was genuine, and his chest fluttered with excitement as you approached. (if he wasn't hiding his tail everyone would have seen it wagging)

Alastor silently dared anyone to speak up when the whole "object now or forever hold your peace" part came up. And best believe that crowd was silent.

When you both were offically married, Alastor held you close as he kissed you softly. The kiss may have lasted a bit too long, but again, no one dared to speak up and ruin this moment.

Honeymoon-

Alastor would have planned a trip to the Wrath Ring (let's forget sinners can't travel through the rings), where you'd stay in a lovely cabin in the woods. It sorta reminded Alastor of home, being in the woods. It was peaceful considering the area. Nice and secluded too, you wouldn't be disturbed.

And if someone tried, well, Alastor would quickly see that taken care of...

There was a large meadow within the woods behind the cabin. The two of you could stay there for hours, just listening to the sounds of nature all around. It was a much needed break from the city life back in the Pride Ring.

Alastor was a wonderful cook and impressed you every day with a delicious meal. He'd even teach you how to cook certain dishes that his mother taught him. (she would have been so proud of him)

The two of you didn't want it to end, but alas, it was nearing time for you to return. Not to worry, there would be plenty more trips like this planned for you two newlyweds.

Parenthood-

This was a huge step for Alastor. He's never disliked children by any means, but having his own...

Nothing really scared Alastor (that we know of), but this was... something that kept him "on edge". Of course, there would need to be a very long and thought out discussion about having children. Alastor would also need some time to really think about it. He was thankful you would allow him that time, no matter how long it took.

Eventually, he would come to a decision. If you two have children of your own, he'd still be nervous. But once he see his newborn in your arms, something stirs deep within him. He just stared at it for a while, then he worked up the courage to actually hold them. And that was what did it.

There was that genuine smile again, that same thump in his chest again. Pride was a good word for it, but love was better. Alastor was sure right then, he didn't need to be worried anymore, or ever again.

If you two adopt, he will love the child all the same. He'd teach them how to cook, how to play piano, and absolutely how to defend themselves. Alastor couldn't have been more proud when his child picked up a few skills he taught them.

Alastor's children would be just as deadly as him eventually, but he would always look out for them and protect them from whatever threatens to harm them.

Lucifer

Proposal-

This man has never been more nervous in his life. He wanted this so bad, and he'd be damned if he lets his fear get in the way. You weren't Lilith, you wouldn't leave him like she did. If he thought you would, he wouldn't be working up the nerve to propose to you.

Lucifer would do everything romantic he could think to do for this proposal. It would happen at his home, private you know? A nice dinner he made himself. Romantic music. Soft lighting. Rose petals scattered here and there. He even dressed himself in his best suit for the occasion.

Lucifer was practically shaking when you showed up. He got some relief when you admired how everything was set up. He would wait for just the right moment before asking the big question.

He was absolutely over the moon when you said yes, he even cried a little....a lot. He cried a lot, sobbing practically. He was just so damn happy you wanted to marry him.

Now all he had to do was plan the perfect wedding...

Ceremony-

When Lucifer told Charlie that you and him were getting married, she was just as emotional as he was. She insisted you two got married in the hotel. Of course you agreed. So sure, why not?

Charlie and Lucifer would be working double time to make sure everything was perfect. And of course everyone else helped out too. When Charlie had a free moment, she and Vaggie would take you dress/suit shopping. Angel insisted he come along too, cause you're not going to go shopping for such an event without him. He knew how to dress to impress after all.

Charlie would be Lucifer's best woman, because there is no way in literal hell is he going to ask Alastor. While Angel would be your maid of honor. And of course Fat Nuggets would be the ring bearer, as per Angel's request. No arguments there.

If you thought Lucifer was emotional during the proposal, you should see him as you make your way down the isle. He was so excited that he couldn't even get mad that Alastor was the one walking you down. All he could see in this moment was you.

Once you reach him, you take his hands and you could see the love in his eyes. Husk would be the one to wed you both, even his grumpy self was smiling as he pronounced you both married. Lucifer wasted no time as he dipped you and kissed you so very passionately. He almost forgot there were people watching, so he eased up a bit. For now...

Charlie couldn't have been more happy for her dad. She gave him a warm hug before watching you two join hands and walk the isle. Soon you two would be off on your honeymoon.

Honeymoon-

Your honeymoon would be spend in the Sloth Ring. (again, let's just forget sinners can't travel through the rings lol) It was one of the more relaxing places in Hell, and that's what your honeymoon would be about. Relaxation. And of course it would be spent to the very last second filled with love and affection.

Lucifer would have rented a beautiful air bnb home, right on the lakeside. It was perfect for spending time on the deck and watching the pentagram sun set.

Lucifer would have also planned all sorts of fun things to do on the honeymoon. Some activities for couples, but mostly just having fun doing whatever.

Ya'll just know Lucifer would be an excellent cook. Every night he would make a delicious meal for the two of you. He'd let you help out too if you wanted. You might even learn something new.

The last night spent there would be the most romantic night of all. The two of you stayed in and slow danced to an old song you both loved. You don't know how long you stayed in each other's arms, but you didn't care. Neither of you wanted it to ever end.

And it never would, now that you two would spend the rest of eternity together.

Parenthood-

This next step would be big for the both of you. Lucifer was worried about being a parent again, after what happened with him and Charlie. He didn't want to mess up again and ruin the relationship he would have with his next son/daughter.

He was grateful you were there to ease his worries. He wanted so badly to make up for his past mistakes. He was already trying his best to be a better father for Charlie, he would be sure to do the same for his next kid.

If you gave birth to his baby, there would be a new swell of pride within him. You and him created such a beautiful thing together. And he would love this baby unconditionally and protect you and them with his very life.

If you two adopt, he would be just as happy. He had the chance to give this child a better life than they had. He'd love them and care for them, and would always keep them safe.

Charlie would be excited to be a big sister, which made Lucifer happier than anything. He loved his kids so much. He loved you so much. In the end, Lucifer would never let anything happen to his family.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader

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bloodypeachblog · 1 year

Text

The Tumblr Yandere Quintet (Peter, Sunny Day Jack, John Doe, Damon, and Alan Orion) - my personal headcanons SFW + NSFW

(TW: blood, knives, death, cannibalism, anything associated with yanderes will most likely be here, so you've been warned)

A/N: btw they coexist in the same universe here. Like, let's say they all live together in a house with Y/N. Why? Because I can. Also this is all F!Reader, so yeah.

~♡~Peter~♡~

• He is shy boi when it comes to you. He acts confident, but underneath he is lowkey panicking.

• But towards others, he is brat. Just, burns and roasts up the wazoo. It's like the person flips the switch and activates his bitch mode.

• he loves playing video games, anything that seem interesting to him. He loves Dead by Daylight and his favorite role is the killer.

• True Crime Aficionado. He listens to podcasts, watches documentaries and movies and YouTube videos, he knows serial killers' stories like the back of his hand.

• he can cook and bake pretty well. He's not Gordon Ramsay levels of good, but he very rarely makes a bad dish. He likes to make food for you and watch your reactions to it.

• as a boyfriend, he is such a hopeless romantic. Roses, poems, serenades (he's not confident in his singing voice, so he plays songs that say whatever he's feeling and sends you the youtube link to listen to them, or just blaring them on the radio outside your window), the whole shebang. Of course, he's not obnoxious about it. Just enough to make you swoon.

• You guys know that old famous photo of a soldier kissing his girlfriend after WW2? Yeah, Peter loves doing that to you.

• pet names for you: Darling, Honey, Baby, Princess, Angel. Basic stuff.

♡NSFW♡

• he likes to nibble on your ear. He loves your reactions to it.

• guy is a straight-up pervert. He'd grope you when you're alone and make dirty jokes. You'd blush tomato red each time.

• angel on the streets, devil in the sheets. More like incubus in the sheets. He will find ways to make you moan his name.

• WHAT DAT TONGUE DO THO? OH LAWD Seriously, when he eats you out, you swear you can feel the very tip of his tongue brush against your cervix.

• favorite positions are missionary, mating press, and doggy style. But he likes oral too, both sides. He loves feeling your warm mouth taking in his cock, he struggles not to cum right then and there. He loves your taste, he can't get enough of it.

•some nights he can be gentle, other nights he'll fuck you into the dirt.

• his cock is about 5.6 inches, good thickness. Not the dick of the gods, but still something to brag about. Very pretty, too.

• Knifeplay? On you, depends on if you're into it or not. On him, FUCK YEAH. He fantasizes about you using a knife to write your name on his chest. Getting cut gives him the biggest hard-on, he'd be already dripping pre-cum. And if you lick the cuts? Oh, this man will cum immediately.

• Anal? Hell yeah. If you're okay with it, of course.

~~~~~

~♡~Damon~♡~

• He's more chill and laid back. Also he's emo. Because I said so.

• He likes listening to music. He likes any genre, but he tends to leans towards emo bands, stuff from Lapfox Trax, and metal. But you play a country song, he will destroy the radio or debate on murdering the artist.

• He wears his puffy coat almost 24/7. I say almost because he can't wear it in the shower. He loves to share it with you, the whole two person in one coat thing couples do.

• he's a cuddle bug, but won't admit it. If you tease him about it, he'll deny it and blush.

• he acts like a kuudere to others, if not annoyed. But when with you, he's so sweet. He'd give you his umbrella if it's raining and you didn't have one.

• Dude can cook, if you can call preparing instant ramen in the microwave 'cooking'.

• This guy loves meat and chewing on bones, so I bet he is also a secret cannibal, but only eats his victims. Gotta get rid of the bodies somehow! He has Peter help with preparing and cooking the meat, but Damon never says where he got it. Peter knows, though, but he don't really care.

• pet names for you: Babe, Sweetie, Lovely

♡NSFW♡

• Favorite positions are you on top, and the position where you're on your stomach and he has your arm behind your back.

• He is SO loving and gentle most of the time. He just wants to make sure you're getting enough. You will cum many times before he even finishes.

• but once in a while, expect to be sore in the morning, some bruises here and there from how much he grips you.

• master of seduction right here. He will whisper in your ear the sweetest yet dirtiest stuff, maybe some erotica limerick/sonnet he found online. His voice is so smooth it makes your core tingle just by hearing it.

• his dick is pretty average, but it's not a bad thing. It gets the job done just fine and you're not complaining.

• he does have a bondage fetish. He loves to tie you to the bed and on special occasions, like your birthday, he'll tie himself up and let you do whatever you want.

• Anal? Nah. Unless you beg for it.

• dude loves meat, so... he has a dolcett fetish. (Don't know what it is? ...eh google it, I'm not your mom. But don't say I didn't warn you.) He never acts on it really [he may eat people, but he doesn't get off to it because he feels like he'd be cheating on you], but his phone and laptop has a folder with hundreds of pics/videos of dolcett porn. Sort of a guily pleasure fetish, emphasis on the pleasure.

~~~~~

~♡~Alan~♡~

• He is such a good boi. Sweetest boi in the world. Pure sugar cookie.

• he is the outdoorsy guy, hunting, fishing, camping, all that stuff. Dude lives in the woods.

• he's the one who brings home fish or game for dinner. Preps it himself in the garage. Expect to find some deer or birds hanging from the ceiling.

• he's a pro at bonfires. Knows all the different ways to burn wood.

• Cooking? He prefers to grill or cook over a fire. He sometimes indulges in Damon's choice of meats, but no one ever tells him what it is. So don't tell him. It'd break the guy...

• he is such a sweetheart. Asking if you're feeling ok, if you need any help with anything, just so considerate. Heavy follower of PDA.

• unashamed cuddler. When you two go camping, he has you in the same sleeping bag as him.

• HUGE astrology and astronomy nerd. He will talk your ear off about the star constellations and tell you your horoscope of the day and if you are compatible with him or anyone else in the group.

• pet names: Doe-Eyes, darling, honey, dear, love

♡NSFW♡

• he's more on the gentler side of things. Perfect candidate for your first time. He will comfort you if it hurts and praise you so much.

• favorite positions are where he can look at you splayed out and writhing in pleasure. Mostly missionary.

• man is a pussy eater. On bad days, he gives you puppy dog eyes and asks to eat you out. With those eyes, you can't help but say yes.

• he likes to nibble and bite. Favorite place to bite is your thighs. He can leave marks, but never breaks skin. If he does, he'll stop and patch you up.

• his cock is the smallest in the group, but not in general. It's pretty average, nothing to complain about. He's a grower, not a shower. You secretly find his cock (both erect and flaccid) adorable, but you never say that to his face.

• does he do anal? Only if you ask him to, but even then, he's hesitant. He will make sure you're prepped well.

~~~~~

~♡~Jack~♡~

• the ray of sunshine in the group. Always trying to cheer people up.

• he loves to give hugs any time, any day, any where

• he is such an 80s retro nerd. He has a collection of games and movies from that era. Favorite movies are The Breakfast Club and Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Favorite arcade game is Dragon's Lair or Pac-Man.

• definitely the fashionista of the group. He loves to create outfits for you to wear, making sure the colors compliment each other. He does this for the other guys too, but some are not sure how to feel about it.

• dude is the kind of guy who would wear a nun's halloween outfit as his costume for reals and awaken some people while wearing it. He makes any outfit sexy.

• Cooking? He prefers to bake. Champion at breakfasts. Favorite thing to make is blueberry pancakes.

• Himbo. Just. Pure grade-A himbo.

♡NSFW♡

• bruh, this man will be cheery and bubbly during the day, total daddy at night. Holy shit.

• he will show you that you are his and only his. He's only sharing you with the other guys just to make you happy.

• man's got a body like Adonis. He's got a chest where he got man tiddies.

• his cock? HOLY FUCK. He's the biggest out of the group and he has to force his way inside you sometimes (this is canon, I swear, I've seen that clip). It is downright BEAUTIFUL. You swear, he is some sort of god.

• his favorite positions are 1) where you're both on your sides, him behind you, lifting your leg so he can plow you while kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings and dirty shit in your ear. And 2) that position where you're on your belly and he is behind you, raising your ass to him and he has your arm pinned behind your back.

• he is definitely heavy on the praise. He sees you as a goddess. Expect him to make you cum multiple times before he even gets inside you, just to make sure you're putty in his hands and ready for him.

• does he do anal? Fuck yeah he does. But he's very careful about it and only does it when you say it's ok.

~~~~~

~♡John♡~

• and then there's John.

• he's just a crack baby.

• sorry, John Doe stans. I just couldn't get that much on this guy.

• he's essentially the pet dog of the group. But it's fine, he's into that.

• he's pretty much a feral animal.

• is fueled by energy drinks and Doritos.

• he LOVES when Damon feeds him the special meat he's collected. He gobbles that shit up.

• dude snuggles you like a puppy. He can be cute and sweet when he wants to, don't get me wrong here. Puppies are always sweet and cute.

• hates baths. Y/N has to chain him to the tub in order to bathe him.

• usually stays in his room. He plays Call of Duty with Peter and loves to watch zombie movies. Favorite movie is Cannibal Holocaust and City of the Living Dead. Ruggero Deodato, Lucio Fulci, and George A Romero are his idols.

• Cooking? No idea how. Anything already prepared is perfect for him.

♡NSFW♡

• you into werewolf quality sex? John's your guy.

• expect tons of nail marks and bites all over you once you're done.

• man will make you bleed.

• some nights, the guys will hear you yell "CHILL THE FUCK OUT!!" from your bedroom.

• he will almost eat you alive, he's that feral.

• Does he do anal? Duh.

• favorite position is you up against the wall.

~~~~~

Yandere Quintet Dynamics

Peter & John Doe: Gaming buddies

Jack & Alan: Big bro (Jack), little bro (Alan)

Peter and Damon: Constant dick-measuring (metaphorically, of course) at first, but now partners in crime (oh they'll double-team ya). They like discussing true crime stuff, enough to where they have a podcast.

Damon & John Doe: Man (Damon) using dog (John Doe) to hide evidence.

Jack & Peter: total nerd buddies. Trivia night is horrible with them.

Jack & John Doe: kid being terrified of dogs (Jack), rabid dog (John Doe)

Alan & Peter: another big bro (Peter), little bro (Alan) dynamic.

Alan & John Doe: hunter (Alan) and his hunting dog (John Doe)

Jack & Damon: guy (Damon) is annoyed by the other guy (Jack), but secretly enjoys his company.

Damon & Alan: same deal as Damon and Jack, but Damon will kill anyone trying to hurt or be mean to Alan.

~~~~~

Aaaaand that's all she wrote! Hope you enjoyed this feast!

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tadpolesonalgae · 11 months

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Demon!Azriel x Reader: Teeth and Talons

Summary: you’re accused of witchcraft and sacrificed to the shadow creatures, only to be saved by their ruler who’s suspiciously in sudden need of a bride…

Warnings: demon!Azriel, drinking blood (more vampiric), mentions of cannibalism, sexual tension, rituals, monsterform! azriel?, biting

A/N: I do want to make a small note that @azrielscrown ’s Prince of Hell series made me want to write my own demon!Azriel fic!

-Part 2- -Part 3-

Visual Prompt here!

You’re a trembling mess, cold sweat slicking your body with sallow skin, temperature fluctuation from sizzling to so cold you feel you’ll seldom be capable of movement once the fit has passed. You know what the priests will say. Possession. They’ll say you’re being inhabited by a shadow creature, tie you to the bed and mist sacred water across you until your body shatters.

The fever isn’t subsiding, and you’re not the first to succumb to the strange plague sweeping through the citadel. Just one of many poor, unfortunate souls. You’ve heard they’ve taken to burning the bodies. Some not completely void of life before they’re set alight.

Is this really the end? It swept in so abruptly, seizing you firmly as it ravages you internally. You can only hope death will come silently.

————————

When you wake, your rags are soaked with sweat, a dark pool having formed beneath you, yet you are no longer being sieged by heat. Your brow is clear of sweat, your limbs no longer being wracked with tremors.

You’re struck by the peculiarity of the miracle. Nobody else has survived. Surely if the plague wasn’t fatal word of mouth would have carried the news to the emperor by now. Not as if he would know what to do. Not as he if was actually ruling.

Maybe some god had taken pity on you.

You should make an offering to Thesan.

————————

The following morning you were arrested. Witchcraft, they said.

Not miracle-worker. That was reserved for men.

The stories had willingly flown in. A woman without husband, living by herself, suddenly recovering from an absolutely fatal plague? Corruption. A pact made with the Lord of the underground. The king of Hel.

Devil worshipper.

Witch.

Whore.

The last you knew had nothing to do with the allegations and everything to do with your sex. It didn’t make the sting and less painful.

————————

You’re thrown to your knees at the foot of the dais, the boy-king sat atop the throne, lounging in a bored fashion. He only perked up when he was brought ‘visitors’, or rather, people for him to inflict punishment.

Candle-wic, he cries, clapping his hands in puerile manner, his young mouth lifting into a gleeful smile as he points at you. How a child could so joyfully sentence someone to being doused in scalding tarmac only to be then set aflame, you could hardly fathom, yet here the boy-king sat, dictating your fate with a flick of his youthful hand.

His advisor advises him. Something less flamboyant. More discreet.

It’s the first time you’re setting eyes upon the emperor’s advisor and you’re not at all surprised to see the old man with already fading hair and wrinkles that swallow his eyes beneath flaps of loose skin. But that’s what you catch on. Eyes black as the devil’s, black like you’ve never seen black. Dark as pitch.

They’re alarmingly void, more than anyone’s have any right to be…and lacking in definition. Just one solid layer glazing across the obsidian coloured surface. Depthless.

He suggests leaving you for the devil you sold your heart to in order to revive a remedy. There’s no use in proclaiming your piety, their minds are set. You’re a threat to their power, an unseen obstacle and must be dealt with accordingly.

————————

And that’s how you find yourself in the centre of The Blood Rite. The private ceremony is reserved for great warriors to prove their worth. Though apparently, it serves as a discreet method of elimination for unwanted - innocent or not - citizens.

The earth is damp beneath your knees, the bones sinking into the mud. Your wrists are bound painfully - a courtesy that would not be extended to a warrior. The ties are designed to hinder, to make an already inevitably gruesome death all the more horrid by removing any ridiculously self-indulgent notions of escape.

Your breath fogs as you exhale harshly, the night air freezing your lungs with every breath. How long had you been kneeling here, waiting patiently for your end? Because it’s coming for you. There’s no point of struggling. Movement would only catalyse the inevitable. Maybe if you remained still, calmed your heart and removed any sort of thrum from your body the unknown entity would leave you be.

Wishful thinking.

The night air presses in on you, goosebumps pebbling up your forearms, hackles rising at your back. There’s a presence to the forest you’ve been dumped in, a cloying madness that lies between the trees, stalking every silent breath of damp air.

A twig snaps to your right, tension rippling up your body, neck flushing with heat as terror seeps from your being. Your eyes dart around the forrest in a frenzied dance.

A shadow flickers in your peripheral vision, darting behind a tree. Pulses thrum through you, beating your blood melody loud and clear. How long would your death last? Would you unnecessarily suspended in those agonising moments that should be limited to mere seconds? Or would the dark beasts draw out your torture, playing with the shreds of your skin with carnal delight.

Something rustles to your left, like a hurried shuffle through leaves, only made to taunt and confuse. Made to misdirect.

Then something pounces on you, sharp claws biting into your shoulders as you’re slammed backwards into the ground. Maybe it would be quick, but not painless. A beast wreathed in shadow, four paws with talons the length of your forearm and rows of razor sharp teeth that glitter with wet saliva beneath the silver moonlight. It has an elongated snout, a flat nose sliding over the protrusion, skin around it’s eyes peeled back to be permanently bulging.

It shoves it’s snout against the spoonful of your abdomen, sizing up how big a bite to take. You pray, silver lining your eyes as your body trembles, petrified to the spot. You can easily imagine entrails decorating it’s teeth like the wreathing in temples. Your stomach lurches.

Then it releases an ear splitting scream, agony slicing down your ears as it howls to the sky. Hot, dark liquid splatters onto your torso, followed by a wet ripping sound. Its blood - you assume that’s the liquid - smells of damp clothes left in a pile beneath the sun: stagnant. Admittedly, not the worst scent.

The large creature goes lax, slumping forward, toppling on top of you. You’re crushed by the weight that slugs into you, knocking the breath from your lungs as you careen backward.

The beast is nudged aside by a large protrusion of shadow, flipping the creature onto its back, allowing you to see the viscera spilling from its soft, round belly. A cold sweat slicks your skin, hairs standing on end as inherent dread twists you round it’s sharp talons.

The humanoid shadow steps forward and you’re frozen in place, hardly able to even shift a muscle as it prowls closer. Until it’s stood in front of you. Fight or flight kicks in, everything kickstarting inside of you as you scramble to your feet, finding safe purchase on the forest floor.

You back up, paralysed with fear as you watch the creature, shadows flickering at its silhouette. Before you really have a chance to move, or even do anything, the shadows swarm forward and you feel rough hands gripping your upper arms.

The last thought you have is how abnormally elongated the creatures talons are, like those on a phœnix.

————————

Your mind can barely comprehend the information. Words turning to mush in your brain, thoughts slowing to a sluggish squelch as you sit across from the dæmon. Azriel.

Azræl? You had asked, trying to pronounce the word on your tongue, but the syllables simply bumbled together. He’d shaken his head, Azriel, he’d repeated. You’d kept you silence, deciding the chance of spelling it out in your mouth to his liking was low enough to class as a risk. Instead you’d swallowed and nodded. He’d looked as though he’d push, but his eyes flicked to the bowl in front of you, ordering you to eat.

All he’d told you was he was in need of a human bride. Not why. Or what your role was. Nothing. So you went on with nothing, deciding to follow his command to eat, despite the protests from your stomach.

You look down only to see there’s no cutlery. Your lips part silently in question, flicking about the table as he watches you from the opposite end, marking your actions. His gaze makes you squirm in your seat, discomfort pressing down on you.

Eventually you swallow, lifting your gaze to his nervously. That was another thing, his eyes: Eyes black as the devil’s, black like you’ve never seen black. Dark as pitch.

“May I have a knife and fork?” You request, voice hoarse and scratchy. His eyes bore into you, piercing your soul as they filter through your pupils. You swallow again, throat feeling dry. The table has a single jug - no glasses. The water is crystal clear, mist condensing over the glass, no doubt refreshingly cool. Your parched throat is desperate for reprieve, yet he gives you none.

You’re in Hel, he’d told you. That was becoming clear.

You try sitting in silence with him, but he keeps staring at you with those wild, pitch black eyes, pupils that swallow his irises - if dæmons have irises.

“You’re not going to inquire why I selected you?” He breaks the silence, his deep voice rolling across to you, encompassing your sentences.

“I’m not so conceited as to believe you intentionally chose me,” you reply, steeling your spine as your eyes flick to his. “You are clearly a creature of self-serving narcissism.” Is it wise to say that to a dæmon that technically saved your life? Either way, you hope he doesn’t hold that over you. Dæmons can be…unkind when it comes to their debts.

“Creature over beast?” He responds. Despite the casual tone he’s using, his sharp gaze reminds you it’s anything but. “Are you a beast?” You settle on.

“That’s for you to decide for yourself.”

You bite off some of the fluffy bread, “so there’s no definitive answer?”

He cocks his head, amusement sparking in his obsidian gaze. The movement makes you pause. You have close to zero idea what his intentions are.

You swallow. “You’re not going to eat anything?” You nod to his end of the table, void of any eating instruments. What do dæmons eat, anyway? Do they eat?

A slow smile lifts the edges of his mouth, the tips of glittering canines protruding beneath his lips. There’s nothing remotely kind about it.

Discomfort coils in your lower belly. You’re no longer hungry. Moving slowly, you quietly push the plate away a little, lowering your hands to your lap as you shift in the chair. Something gleams in his eyes and you wonder if he derives pleasure from the buildup of tension before a kill. Immediately, you regret the thought.

“I think I’m full,” you announce, softly, hoping you’ll be allowed to leave the chamber. “Not curious about my eating habits?” He drawls. You know you probably don’t want to hear the answer, but he’s not really giving you a choice. All you can hope for is that it won’t upend the contents of your stomach.

“It didn’t seem as though you were keen on answering,” you reply, watching your hands fiddle in your lap.

He hums, and you prepare yourself. But silence follows.

When you lift your gaze to see what he’s doing, he’s gone, seat empty. It’s unnerving being in his presence, but at least you have a vague sense of where he is. Now you feel as if he’s watching from every corner. You shift in your seat, heart pounding.

A hand wraps beneath beneath your jaw and you flinch, jumping in your seat. He pulls your head to the side, lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as your fingers turn white with how hard they’re biting into the wood of the chair arm. Your jaw tightens as you feel the menacing scrape of canines tracing your throat, every muscle in your body turning rigid as you shrink into the chair.

“How obedient,” he drawls, the muffled murmur making your hair stand on end. “I bet I could sink my teeth into you and you wouldn’t move a muscle.” Your breathing turns shallow as you try to limit your movement. “Isn’t that right, bride?” His razor sharp teeth scrape a little too close, a hot stinging sensation prickling your neck. You try to lean away from him but his grip tightens.

“You eat humans?” The tremble in your voice is prominent, and you’re surprised you don’t stutter with the fear that’s thrumming along with your heartbeat. “Among other things,” he drawls, inhaling your scent as you try not to move. Your breath catches as he opens his mouth over your throat, a whimper working it’s was from your own as terror climbs higher. A quiet squeak leaves you as his tongue swipes out, hot and wet, dragging over your skin as he tastes you.

“I can imagine how your skin would come apart beneath my teeth.” Another scrape, followed by that sting. He huffs a dark laugh onto your neck, “does that terrify you, bride?” White spots swim in your vision, dark blotches accompanying them as he squeezes on your throat.

Then he’s pulled back, the spot on your neck feeling cold and empty now his mouth is no longer latched onto you.

“Come, it’s time to retire.”

————————

I can imagine how your skin would come apart beneath my teeth.

The more you replay the words, the stronger the thrill they send spilling inside of you. You have to remind yourself it would be painful. Unpleasantly so. It wouldn’t the be sting he’d given you over the meal, it would be a frenzied shredding. Ripping and tearing as you’re pulled apart beneath his teeth and talons.

If he becomes bored of you, or you fail to meet any expectation of his, would he be free to replace you? Your brow furrows. Are you dead? Surely nothing alive can exist in the underworld. It’s a home for the damned.

Are you damned?

An adrenaline-fuelled smile cracks your lips. Maybe he’s your damnation.

What a silly thought.

At least the bed looks comfy. It’s circular - you hadn’t known they could be circular - and has a distinct lacking of pillows and blankets that you would have expected to decorate the mattress. Maybe that’s just another difference between your kinds.

“You don’t like it.” Displeasure drips from his words as you jump. He’s a very quiet predator. Automatically, you retreat a few steps, finding him directly in front of you when you turn to face his voice. He follows like a dance partner, hand gripping your jaw as he looks down at you, face blank. “Ungrateful,” he taunts, softly.

“I’m curious about the bedding,” you stammer, hauling yourself together. “The nest is fashioned after your own,” he replies, eyes remaining on yours as he pulls you closer, “you did not seem to value them in your own den.”

Heat flushes your cheeks, eyes snapping away from his, “they’re expensive.”

“Steal, then.” You bite back your reply, that if you were caught, you’d suffer a less than favourable death. His brow twitches, “swallow your tongue and be surprised when you choke,” he mutters.

“What?”

He releases your jaw, stalking away, leaving you dazed and confused.

————————

He prowls through your thoughts that night, every scene you dreamt up tainted by a dark shadow lurking just out of sight. The presence grows more sinister as the imagery drags on, growing stronger with every second. He brings a flare of heat with him, every touch of shadow sending flame to lick between your thighs until the dreamscape shifts.

You’re lying on the circular mattress, darkness shrouding the surrounding room, lit only by candles. The milky wax melts to the floor, moving in circles until it forms a tight ring around the mattress. Then, the streams start looking toward your bed, rolling beneath you to inevitably join.

It’s an altar.

Your heart pounds as you look up, that dark presence returning, lurking at the end of the mattress. His pitch black irises take up the whole of his eyes, leaving the ball smothered in darkness. There’s no doubt he looking at you. Shadowy sinew runs beneath his skin, and you follow the lines with your eyes.

He’s naked. Completely without clothing.

Gorgeous. Crafted. Divine.

He’s different from earlier. The blotted out eyes and sinew aside, his canines are more pronounced, fur dusts his abdomen, thickening as you follow down. The same black veins pulse along his cock that’s hard and swollen. Begging to rut into something.

You’re desperate for water, throat parched as you tear your gaze away, dragging it over the rest of him. Scars lacerate his torso, decorating the corded muscle of his arms. Sharp talons split from the skin of his fingertips, curved and razor sharp. As long as your forearm, you would guess, if not longer.

You suck in a breath, raising your gaze to his blacked out eyes. He’s hungry. Ravenous. All of it piercing into you as you shift in the nest, trying to slowly shuffle backward. You catch sight of yourself as you’re doing so, clothed only in a white robe that’s barely concealing your breasts. The lace reaches just past your elbows before it cuts of, and the rest of the silky fabric does nothing to conceal your heat from him. He has the perfect view of you: your thighs are parted though you’re trying to squeeze them together, nipples peaking through the sheer silk.

But he doesn’t move. He just stands there, watching. Waiting.

He’s waiting on you. Waiting for you to come to him.

Heat spools between you thighs as a sinful curve tips the edges of his mouth, like he’s hearing your thoughts and giving you the confirmation you need. You’re not sure what will happen if you don’t adhere to whatever ritual he’s caught you in.

But you know you’re in a dream. You’re asleep; safe. He can’t hurt you here. It means nothing.

Maybe that’s why you shift onto your hands and knees when he beckons you toward him with the pull of his middle and index finger, crawling toward him, eyes trained on one another. It’s like you’re enraptured by him, everything around the male fading to negative space as he encompasses your conscious. He’s everything.

You stop when you reach him, tucking your legs beneath you as you kneel before him, hands in your lap. How obedient. His mouth splits open in a murderous grin, baring his sharp canines as he takes in your submissive form. Small.

How he’ll enjoy defiling you.

————————

You wake with a gasp, skin damp but clothed. You pant, fingers gripping the mattress as you haul down lungfuls of air.

“Bad dream?”

You scream, jerking away from the voice, scrambling backward but a hand wraps around your ankle. He pulls you toward him, making you scream harder, kicking as your night robe rides up until the silk is pooling at your waist.

He snarls at the noise, lifting from his stomach, muscle flexing with the movement, as he climbs on top of you. His hand covers your mouth, silencing you as he straddles your middle. The male sleeps naked. You silently thank his shadows for sparing you the humiliation of a shameful flush decorating you cheeks should you have seen him again, in such a short span.

Silver lines your eyes as those same shadows tie your wrists down.

Terror sets in and you open your mouth, biting down hard on his hand. He doesn’t even flinch. Only cocks his head in what seems like confusion, pulling his hand away to examine it. You still, not knowing what to do. You don’t want to provoke him any further. “You bit me,” he states, eyes flicking to yours, back to normal.

Then a dark laugh rumbles from his chest as one hand grips your jaw, the other thumbing your upper lip away from your teeth, “how adorable.” The pad of the digit runs beneath the blunt edge of your canine, pressing against the enamelled bone, “what were you expecting to do with these?”

You tremble beneath him, the true power imbalance dawning on you. His teeth broke your skin by grazing it, while he’s pressing against your own canine without so much of an ounce of pain showing.

I can imagine how your skin would come apart beneath my teeth.

Before you can manage anything he’s pressing his face into the crook of your neck, scenting you. He pulls back, nostrils flaring.

“You’re in heat.”

“I’m not an animal,” you breathe, a hot flare of indignation flushing your skin. Despite the denial, warmth envelops your body, settling deeper in the pit of your belly. “It just happens sometimes,” you hiss, hot embarrassment flushing your cheeks. “It’s not something I can help.”

“I can.”

“No.”

He tilts his head, lips curving into a malevolent grin, “you’re aroused. That’s what a husband is for.” Your breath hitches at his implication. “You aren’t my husband.”

“Not yet. But you’re still mine.”

“I am not.” His thumb brushes against the soft skin of your neck and you flinch, feeling the sting his canines left. “Maybe to you. But you’re surrounded by my kind. They’ll understand my mark.” Your eyes widen, “you can’t do that,” you breathe, “you can’t just lay claim to any human you want.”

He leans closer and you press back into the bed, “what’s stopping me?” The words brush over your mouth and you shiver.

You’re aware of the shadows thrumming around the bed, how his powerful arms are caging you in, but it’s taken you a while to realise there’s something hard poking into your middle. You squirm beneath him, trying to wriggle out of his dominating hold. “I said: what’s stopping me?” He growls, hand fisting in your hair as he yanks you upward, his mouth grazing leisurely along the lifeline in your throat.

A whimper claws its way up your throat and he laughs at the sound, canines searching for their earlier mark. “That’s right,” he purrs, lapping once over the scratches before he lines his teeth up, preparing to bite down, “nothing.” His fangs sink into your skin and you don’t even have enough breath to scream.

His shadows loosen and your hands instantly fly to his hair, nails raking over his scalp. He doesn’t let up and you grasp onto him desperately, clawing for something to grip, to tie yourself to for some form of safety. You go lightheaded as he feeds.

The myths you’ve heard about their drinking habits are false. In the tales they don’t leave a drop behind, needing every ounce to sustain themselves. For Azriel, it’s a display of decadence. He doesn’t need every drop. He’s drinking you up for his own enjoyment. You aren’t a necessity, or even a luxury; you’re a gluttonous indulgence.

Blood trails hot paths down your neck, sloping over your collar bone, trailing between your breasts as the liquid flows down your body. It spills over your back, saturating the bed with sanguine flavour. Then he pulls back, licking over the bite mark to heal it. You receive a metallic zap, and you’re sealed. Fresh as ever.

He looks down at you, soaking in your look of shock as he releases your hair, a blood-red slash instead of a grin. It drips from his lips, weighted droplets splashing on your chest, staining the silk night clothes. “My side is fulfilled,” he drawls. Your vision swims, fingers releasing their grasp on his soft hair, brushing over his shoulders before falling at your middle.

You manage a few shaky pants before he’s lowering his mouth, a surprised whimper being stolen from your lips as he settles over you. The blood mixes with his taste, tongue sliding over yours as his canines inadvertently slice up the inside of your lips. You lie there, passive, still very much in shock.

With the little strength you have left, you bite down on his tongue. Blood - not yours, this time - fills your mouth, gushing from the wound you’ve made. His eyes snap open angrily, hands brutally digging into your shoulders as he shoves away from you. Fury dances in his charcoal eyes before it’s smothered.

“If I’m going to choke on anyone’s tongue,” you hiss, words dripping with venom, “it’ll be yours. Not mine.”

Taglist: @myheartfollower

#demon! Azriel #acotar #dark! Azriel #Azriel smut #acotar au #azriel acotar #shadowsinger #Teeth and Talons

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graciereadshannigram · 26 days

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hey fam, welcome to the March roundup of the best hannigram fics i've read this past month! i read close to 60 fics total, and these were the cream of the crop.

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

(Inaugural roundup can be found here)

anyway, in no particular order, let's go!

Title: Bones of My Bones (& Flesh of My Flesh) by everyday_forever Word Count: 15,759 Summary: When Will & Hannibal reunite in Italy at last, Will doesn't fear becoming Hannibal. He knows he already is Hannibal. However, Will feels as if he's a derivative of Hannibal, made in Hannibal's image, from Hannibal's own raw material. He doesn't feel like he's Hannibal's natural equal. Will thinks the only way he can forgive Hannibal is by claiming a piece of Hannibal in return, and choosing to make it a part of himself. He has to eat him. And Hannibal is all to happy to let him.

As far as I'm concerned, this IS canon. Truly some of the best canon-compliant characterizations of them that I've read. This is absolutely what would have happened if Will hadn't tried to kill Hannibal after leaving the Uffizi Gallery. It was perfect. And so them. And obviously, mutual cannibalism. *chefs kiss*

Title: Do you feel the hunger, does it howl inside? by merrythoughts and ReallyMissCoffee Word Count: 261,929 Summary: It's been weeks since the Fall. Since Will had leaned against him, the wild scent of blood thick and cloying on the air, and had taken them from the top of the cliffs. And for every second of every day since, Hannibal has been calmly dealing with the fallout of his decision that night: Life over death. Will had intended them to die, had allowed himself a moment of weakness, of desperation. Perhaps the last act of an exhausted soul. Yet Hannibal had denied him.

I am being dead serious when I say that this fic changed my brain chemistry and managed to do something that several years of therapy had not. I wanted this to go on forever (there IS a sequel!) and did my very best to savor it instead of plowing through the entire thing in a single day. Check the author notes if you're unfamiliar with these two writers–the format took me a couple chapters to get used to, but clearly it wasn't a big deal for me.

Title: Sensational by bigfootghostdick Word Count: 39,607 Summary: Franklyn’s obsession with Hannibal Lecter truly knows no bounds. His obsession only grows worse after being fired as Dr.Lecter’s patient. Feeling slighted by Hannibal's rejection, Franklyn follows him home one evening only to stumble upon something that he never expected to see. Who’s that dark-haired man locking lips with Hannibal right outside his front door? Overcome with jealousy, Franklyn decides to seek revenge on his tenth psychiatrist. How? By selling the photos he took of them to Freddie Lounds.

Listen. I love a good jealous!Franklyn, especially when Hanni and Will firmly put him in his place. Sue me.

Title: The Stress-Sex Connection by shotgun_sinner Word Count: 48,090 Summary: When Will gets out of the BSHCI, he resumes therapy with Hannibal Lecter. His stress levels are through the roof, and Hannibal makes an offer that Will doesn't turn down. Hannibal assumes he's going to take Will to bed and make love to a fragile man, shy and delicate. Will enjoys taking Hannibal to bed, and proving him wrong. OR the story where Hannibal is shocked to find out that Will is a profiler in the streets, but a demon in the sheets.

I was sold on the last line of the summary, "Will is a profiler in the streets, but a demon in the sheets" because it actually got a good cackle out of me, and then who would have guessed! Essentially porn with feelings, but I loved.

Title: hold me, kiss me, rip out my tongue by multifandom_fanfic_writer Word Count: 18,005 Summary: Will notices things. He notices a lot of things, can’t turn it off. Some of these things are about Doctor Hannibal Lecter. He watches Hannibal watching him eat. He watches the touch on his elbow lingering, possessive. He watches Hannibal's eyes darken when Will pulls his hair and fucks his throat hard.

Okay, so I'm realizing that a lot of my five star fics this month were pretty smutty, but I make no apologies. That being said, I did find the characterizations of both Will and Hannibal to be very compelling, and it had the added bonus of Will getting to rub it in Alana's face that Hannibal chose him not her.

Title: Ligare by InfiniteCrisis Word Count: 8,280 Summary: Will's never gone down on a man before and is feeling nervous about it. His solution: tie Hannibal up first. Hannibal has no complaints.

Initially shied away from this one because Will essentially drugs Hannibal to knock him out and fuck him for the first time, but I PROMISE Hannibal knew exactly what Will was doing and allowed it. However, if that isn't your thing, this won't be for you.

THAT BEING SAID, my honest reaction after this was, "fuck fuck fuck, dom!Will might be my new favorite." Bonus points for it being the first in a series, and the rest is equally good!

Title: Oboedire, Implorare, Vovere by InfiniteCrisis Word Count: 18,715 Summary: At the end of Ligare, Hannibal said Will should "test" his willingness to submit to him. Will takes him up on that, and the results are more than either of them expected.

As I said, the rest of the series was SO GOOD. This was basically off the charts hot.

Title: To the Devil His Due (His Due is You) by everyday_forever Word Count: 26,3319 Summary: Will Graham is in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, courtesy of one Hannibal Lecter. And Will wants payback. He threatens Hannibal with a reckoning. And then Will has a terrible and wonderful idea- he opts to get back at Hannibal and make him jealous by pursuing a sexual relationship with Dr. Frederick Chilton. Feeling emboldened, Chilton sends the audio recordings of him and Will together to Hannibal to boast of the new development in Will's 'therapy.' Hannibal knows at once Will is the mastermind behind it all. Hannibal is most displeased with his manipulative albeit cunning boy. Chaos ensues. Will continues to manipulate both Chilton and Hannibal in order to make Hannibal jealous. Will has entered into a dance with the Devil after poking Hannibal's beast and Hannibal is eager to teach Will a lesson and remind him who he belongs to...

HEAR ME OUT. Prior to this fic, I had never considered Will/Chilton. Ever. Let alone reading a fic where most of the on paper smut is ChilWill. And yet here we are. Hannibal was just so present through it all, given that Will was only screwing Chilton to get at Hannibal (although, I liked that there was some genuine affection between Chilton and Will, it wasn't completely callous), and it just all combined to be an excellent fic. Sue me.

Title: Trope: Fake Date (Hannigram AU) by TigerPrawn Word Count: 4,207 Summary: Will's possible promotion is relying on his superiors thinking better of him. One way to do that is to take his omega to the upcoming cocktail party. Only problem is, he doesn't have one, having to rely on one sent by an agency. He wasn't quite expecting Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

Fluffy first meeting AU, nothing more nothing less. I just love seeing them happy!! (sometimes, lmao)

And that's a wrap on this month! See ya next time!!!

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seronsalk · 2 months

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A pretty little nightingale...

Part 1

Alastor x female reader (sorry gents and non-binary pals, I'll do you next!)

Masterlist AN: An idea I've been obsessed with recently...sorry if it's bad. Dividers from our lovely @saradika-graphics Warnings: Mention of Violence

"Sometimes I stare at my ceiling for so long that I forget where I am. I forget I am in a fiery pit where at any moment a knife could be jabbed into my shoulders or back and twisted. At any moment I could be killed, kidnapped, tortured, or even feasted upon. Would I taste good? Would my killers be satisfied with my death or would they too be disappointed in what I could have been for them? And even now as my alarm goes off, I wonder where my soul would go if I did one night, not wake up."

The morning in hell was pretty normal to the morning's you were alive. Wake up, get ready, go downstairs to the club, dance and sing. That beautiful structure, belting one's heart to an audience every day with no worry.

Until you found yourself doing the same thing, but in your afterlife. In hell. You will forever curse yourself because who else would you blame for your eternal damnation?

As you walked down the stairs to the dark empty club, the other performers were there already practicing.

"Look who rolled out of bed! And how is our princessa this morning?" Dante spoke, he was an insufferable demon to be around this early in the morning, and that Spanish accent rolled off his tongue right into his trumpet. He was a beautiful demon; all the musicians were. It made you wonder why such pretty boys were stuck down here with you.

You smiled at him before speaking, "doing just fine til you opened your mouth, save your air for the horn." Another musician whose name was Hernando, forced everyone to refer to him as Sir Pesci for some weird reason then spoke with a laugh in his voice. "As if saving his air would help him sound better!"-"Hey Hernando, did your mom get the flores I sent her?" Dante suddenly spoke. "Ahhh, vaffanculo," the Italian man cursed back as he waved his hands dismissively at Dante.

You laughed at the scene as the other band members didn't understand a word being said under the accents before they all turned to you. It was warm-up time and it would go on for at least three hours.

By the time the jazz club was about to open you had dolled yourself up. The servers and bartenders had finally rolled in.

Throughout your shift many older sinners had trotted in at the sound of the music. But as you went to take a break in-between songs Dante came up to you. "Y/N, apparently some big shot wants to talk to you backstage."

You looked at him curiously, "Why m-" but you were cut off by your boss. He was an arrogant man who cared less for what others thought of him unless they were giving him money or popularity. One time just to get him to hear you when you complained about fixing the door in your dressing room, you had to pay him twenty bucks. He was built like a bull and like a bull, he sometimes charged in without thought or reason.

"Y/n let's go, got a big customer who wants to meet you!" he dragged you away with his bulky hands. Dante gave you a shrug as he walked off.

Alastor's POV:

It was a normal day in hell, he strutted down the road cane in hand. He was on his way to the cannibal colony to meet with Rosie.

When demons saw him they would jump into traffic or even through windows to avoid his gaze. His devilish constant smile sent even the tougher, bigger demons groveling.

As he was walking though, his ears twitched. The sound of jazz, but more prominent, a beautiful voice. He could recognize the song immediately, Heatwaves, by Ethel Waters. He followed the voice around the corner of the street and saw some demons trickling into a club. He twirled his cane in interest and his smile became wider.

He walked towards the bouncers, two of the biggest mobsters stood strong and firm, but one look at Alastor made them sweat. "Good'ay my good gents, tell me what is this fine establishment about then?" A little hint of Alastors transatlantic southern accent sprung like cattails in a bayou.

One of the bouncers spoke in an almost whisper, "It's The Spotted Fawn jazz club, sir." Alastor's smile widened in interest again. "Well, pay me no mind gentleman, I simply will be taking a look around." And with that, he walked past them and a second later one of the bouncers told the big boss.

He walked in, it smelled of rye and smoke. He loved the atmosphere, it was like he was in New Orleans all over again.

Then your voice struck his ears like lightning. He looked over towards the stage, jazz musicians playing behind you as you sang. Your h/l h/c hair bouncing as you swayed your hips to your own song.

Your boss had interrupted his train of thoughts, "Why I wouldn't have expected the radio demon to be in my club-welcome sir." He offered his hand to shake and Alastor's smile twisted as he ignored his hand. "Charming establishment you have here sir! I appreciate people who are still following the more traditional...ways." Alastor spoke his eyes wandering back to you as you danced on stage with one of the musicians.

"Say, my good man, who is that lovely dame singing?" Alastor inquired as he twirled his cane. "That'd be y/n sir, one of my finer performers." Y/n....your name twirled circles in his mind. You were gorgeous, as was your voice.

And for the first time in a while, since his mother and Rosie, he felt admiration for a woman. He spoke again, "Well I would love to meet h-" he was cut off. "2k upfront," was all the bull-built man said. Alastor's neck basically snapped as he looked at him, "Excuse me?" he said. "I don't trust any of you overlords and the last thing my performers need is the attention from one of you causing them, or me, problems. You wanna talk to her? Pay me or strike a deal sir." This bull had no class it made Alastor cackle. "Normally I'd kill you where you stand, but because I'm feeling generous about how lovely this establishment I'll let you off with a warning. Talk like that again towards me and I'll pull your guts out and serve them to your customers." His radio static backed his voice like a snarling panther. "Now about this deal, tell me what do you desire?" "Follow me we talk business in the back." The bull led Alastor away.

The bull brought her into his office, where Alastor was sitting. Her eyes widened a little, but she quickly sat down. "I was told you wanted to speak with me?" she asked. They were alone now.

EN: Hi guys so I like this idea, I was gonna make a part two, but let me know what you think!

#alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #x reader #hellaverse #alastor altruist #radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader

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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

Note

Hey so uhh, it said requests are open so I'm gonna shoot my shot ig. I have this fic idea but I'm a shit writer so here it goes.

Alastor x reader but the concept is that the reader is Alastor's shadow.

Now, hear me out: Alastor is said to be a powerful demon since his manifestation in hell, we know that it takes demons quite some time to accumulate their power before they become overlords.

If "The Radio demon" was an alias was that operated between more that one person, then it would make sense as to why and how he rose to the top very quickly (assuming we ignore the fact he made a deal with someone).

That and Alastor's black appendages and shadows seem out of theme for a demon who's primary power is based on Radio.

As for how they met, it could go two ways. Either with Alastor, a man hungry for power, strikes his first deal with Shadow!Reader to get them to do his bidding. Or Shadow!Reader offering Alastor their services after realizing that he has a lot of potential. Either way, their partnership blooms into a sort of kinship between the two of them.

Do with this concept whatever you want with it, I just wanna get this concept out in the world in the hands of someone much more capable of writing than I am.

Enjoy!

A/N please always shoot your shot. this is such a fun idea,, thank you so much for entrusting it to me. I've decided just to write their meeting for now but may continue it later on. I hope you like it!!

The Thing (Alastor x Gn!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Mention of cannibalism and the Donner party. I think that is it.

Word Count: 1,752

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

There was a secret, one that no one knew, one that would tear the demon realm apart at its edges if anyone found out. The illusive Radio Demon and his shadow were, in fact, just that: the illusive Radio Demon and his shadow.

Y/n was master of the immaterial, shifting forms and shedding skins the way others change their clothes. When Alastor arrived in Hell, they had long since been established as one of the many demons to be aware of.

Rumor runs rampant everywhere but especially in Hell where in controls, combines, and divides. Y/n was just that, a rumor. Never the same face twice, never in the same place twice. No one even knew their name, simply referring to them as the thing or the hunger. They snatched sinner's souls from their grasps and devoured them whole. An urban legend, a ghost story only here, all the ghosts were real.

Alastor was as observant in death as he had been in life, it didn't take him long to catch sight of the shadow. Though he had only been in Hell a few days when it had first appeared, he could tell it had nefarious intent.

The thing was a good actor, almost good enough to fool him. It lay in the reality of his own shadow, following his moves perfectly. However, no one is perfect and every once in a while, there would be a little slip. The first one which had caught Alastor's attention was when he had taken a step forward and it had gone the wrong way, quickly righting itself and following after the mistake.

Alastor pretended not to have noticed, but he remembered. He lay in wait for another such occurrence. It was not until two days later, when his shadow gave him four hands rather than two with no apparent explanation such as an odd angle to the sun or another body near him, that his thesis was confirmed. There was, in fact, something following him.

It stuck like glue to the heels of his shoes. Alastor was quiet, Alastor schemed. He had trapped it in a pure white room which he had fixed lightbulbs in from all sides. When he had turned on the lights, he had turned on them, arms crossed and foot tapping expectantly.

The shadow had looked this way and that, searching for a place to hide. When they realized it was no use, they had pulled themselves from the floor into three dimensions and faced him head on.

"Who are you?" Alastor had asked before quickly reevaluating his question, "What are you?"

It moved like liquid in the air, twisting and dissolving at its edges. Bubbles, or what was almost bubbles, what looked like bubbles, rose to the surface of it's body and as they popped, a demon began to take the shadow's place.

"I am everything."

They were many voiced. When they spoke, it sounded like a crowd of people saying the same thing in unison. Alastor stared at the demon, unamused. They were a full person now, about a head shorter than him and seemingly very calm considering he had them trapped. Then again, Alastor had only been in Hell a few weeks by this point, not nearly enough time to work up the sort of reputation he was hoping for.

"Is that a bad pickup line?" Alastor asked, "Am I supposed to ask what you mean and you'll say something like 'I could be everything to you?'"

The demon raised their eyebrows, shaking their head.

"It is the truth."

A tense silence fell between the pair. Alastor broke it with a sigh, rubbing his temples in irritation. He hadn't really known what to expect from this endeavor save an event to break up the monotony of his days. The demon was not delivering.

"Yeah, alright."

"Who are you?"

"You've been following me for what, two weeks? And you don't know?"

The demon shrugged.

"I was trying to be polite. It has been a while since I have spoken to anyone."

"Sure. Well," Alastor turned to the door, pulling a skeleton key from his pocket, "this has been interesting. Enjoy eternity alone in a well lit room."

Alastor opened the door. The demon made no move to follow him out of the room, no move to escape. They simply watched him in curiosity, their head tilted slightly to one side. Alastor hesitated, his body blocking the exit and his back towards them. He watched them over his shoulder as a thin black smoke seemed to emanate from the outline of their body.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

An empty threat, barley even a threat to be honest. Alastor stepped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Once he was sure it was locked, he slipped the key back into his pocket. He made to leave, intending to go out on the town in a desperate attempt to find entertainment. Barley two steps forward, and shadows began to pool on the floor before his feet, blocking Alastor's path.

He watched in a mild interest as the demon pulled themselves from the shadows, taking on a different face than they had worn in the room. Now they were broader, taller, stronger. They looked mean.

"I told you."

"Is this what you meant when you said you were everything?"

The demon nodded once. Their wide eyes were unblinking, unchanging, as their form mutated again. A spider demon now with many arms and a lanky figure. Alastor raised his eyebrows.

"So, you let me catch you."

"I was bored. No one ever notices me until it is too late, except you."

"I find that hard to believe. You were easy to spot."

The demon's eyes widened slightly at this, something similar to surprise but halfway to fear.

"Like I said, Alastor the interesting." they mused after a moment.

Alastor bowed his head slightly in recognition of the title.

"I could take your soul, destroy you. Why were you so willing to risk all that? Surely a bit of entertainment can't be worth that much to you."

He was trying to get a gage on the creature, and he knew they could tell. It was a mild threat, one he couldn't follow through on even if he wanted to. Sure, he could maim the creature, cause it great pain, but beyond leaving them formless for a few days tops he was powerless. He knew that, but he didn't know if they did. Either way, the situation would play out to his advantage. It would either give him more information, or the upper hand.

They considered the situation for a moment before answering. Alastor couldn't figure out if it was because of their interest in him, for fear of him, or some third, other undefined motivation. No matter what it was, he didn't care. This was the most engaged he had felt in weeks.

"You aren't an overlord. You can't make a contract."

"And you are?"

"No."

"Too weak?" Alastor teased and the demon glared at him.

"Far from it. I don't like being seen."

"But you're letting me see you."

"I am allowing you to see a face. It is not mine."

Alastor fell silent. He had figured that the demon before him didn't have a true form, or if they did, that it was shadow. Things were becoming curiouser by the second. He was no longer regarding his attempts to trap the demon as a waste of time.

"So, you want power but anonymity. Those things don't go hand in hand."

"I know. You want fame and lack the power. Another unmatched set."

Alastor's ear twitched at that, displeasure running through his veins and clouding his sight. His hand tightened where he held his microphone.

"I have power enough."

"What use is a Radio Demon with nothing to broadcast?"

"Are you suggesting a deal?"

The demon smiled a smile that was too big for the face it wore. Alastor had to admit, they were unsettling. He understood the rumors.

"I've heard of your... reputation shall we say? But if you think I will trust someone who's face I have never even seen, you are dead wrong."

"Was that a joke?" the demon tentatively asked after a moment.

"Not on purpose but I supose so."

The thing seemed to roll the idea over in their mind as their form changed once again, this time becoming a demon with the body of a shark. They seemed not even to notice they were changing as their eyes flicked back to Alastor's.

"You want information. Then you will be open to the idea of a partnership."

"This was your goal all along, a partnership as you put it."

A statement, not a question. The demon smiled, their eyebrows slightly raised.

"Oh, was it now. At least I had an end goal to this little... situation."

Alastor scoffed, looking away. They were right. He had come up with no ideas past capturing the thing that had been following him. He was in the dark. They had everything figured out.

"Show me your real face. Then we can talk."

"Alastor Hartifelt. Died 1933. Louisiana famed radio host and serial killer cut down in his prime by a hunter who mistook him for a deer."

"Are you trying to intimidate me?"

"Not at all."

The demon shifted once again. It took them longer to find form this time, remaining as a black cloud for a few moments before at last settling on an almost human body. They were shorter than he had expected, smaller too and decked out in what seemed to be colonial dress. They held a hand out to him.

"Y/n L/n. Died 1846. Newly wed and member of the Donner party."

"Cannibalism." Alastor mused, gently taking their hand in his.

He had expected them to be cold, immaterial. He had expected his hand to slide right through theirs. Instead, the demon, Y/n, was warm and solid to the touch, just like anyone else. They smiled, mouth full of needles.

"We all take what we are given."

"I suppose."

Y/n dropped his hand and crossed their arms. Despite their stature, they radiated authority and poise. It was almost impressive.

"If you will be the face, I will be the force."

"No soul binding."

"I couldn't if I wanted to. Not an overlord."

Alastor looked them up and down. His smile grew.

"Not an overlord yet."

----

tags:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0

#hazbin hotel #x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x gn!reader #gn reader #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #gender neutral pronouns #they/them reader #alastor x reader #the radio demon x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x gn reader

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venus-haze · 6 months

Text

Celebrity Skin (Thomas Hewitt x Reader)

Summary: Your rollercoaster of a film career comes to its untimely end when you end up on Thomas Hewitt’s cutting room floor. He hopes you’ll be as much of a fan of his work as he is yours.

Note: Female reader, implied to be older than Thomas, but no other descriptors are used. This is mostly from Tommy’s perspective and extremely dark and bleak, so look at the warnings before deciding whether or not you want to read this. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Explicit and implied non-con, mentions of animal death and cannibalism, kidnapping, Hoyt is pretty much his own warning. Implied major character death. Hurt no comfort. No happy ending. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Hollywood was never going to see you again. No one would, as a matter of fact. That much had been set in stone as soon as you sped through Fuller, Texas. Ghost town. Full of nobodies and hicks. A pass-through on the road trip you’d treated yourself to after landing a movie with Paul Newman. He’d never see you again, either.

Almost as soon as you passed the county line, going 60 in a clearly marked 45, sirens blared behind you, and you cursed as you pulled over. You should’ve never pulled over.

“Got a good one for ya here Tommy,” Hoyt said, slapping the meat of your thigh as he presented you to the hulking man. “Says she’s some kinda actress.” He leaned in close to your face, a mean grin on his own. “Sure good at actin’ like she don’t want it.”

Your lips were split, dried blood and semen on your mouth and face. Could barely manage a snarl at his uncle, but you tried.

“Bet you’re gonna taste real sweet, pumpkin,” Hoyt taunted, smacking his lips before pushing you to Thomas.

You didn’t cry or scream as Thomas dragged you down to the basement. Hoyt beat that out of you already. Mean and vicious on the side of the road, or maybe in the back of his squad car. Didn’t matter. You were all but resigned to your fate until Thomas laid you down on his butcher’s block, securing you to it with the usual metal cuffs, deftly hammered in place. You only began struggling when you caught a glimpse of the knives and blades displayed prominently throughout his workshop. Too late.

Thomas paused, staring at your face, screwed up in pathetic agony as you begged him for mercy you wouldn't receive. Recognized it from somewhere. You had looked different, though. Face made-up, eyes glistening, hair perfectly styled. Like a dream.

He leaned in closer, and you blinked, teary-eyes transporting him back to his youth. Unforgiving summer breaks where he’d wake up early to help out on the farm before the heat of the day settled in. Sometimes his mama would scrounge up some change for him to go to Fuller’s lone movie theater in the afternoon. ‘Get a break from this heat, honey.’ She knew full well that wasn’t what drew him there. The darkness, the anonymity, for once everyone else was faceless and hidden like him. He wasn’t the main attraction, not even the sideshow.

It’d been years since he stepped foot in that theater. Slowly stopped going after Hoyt got him the job at the slaughterhouse. Just like that, though, he remembered you. A film noir wherein you were cast as the leading lady to a man who may as well have been old enough to be your father, but you looked like you loved him. Especially when you cried for him, tears sparkling as they silently, regally rolled down your pretty face one by one.

Over time, femme fatales fell out of fashion, and so had you not long after he’d stopped going to the movies. He’d catch glimpses of you, though. Staring at him from the cover of magazines like a star-crossed lover whenever you had a new movie coming out, less frequent as time went on. He was barely sixteen when he swiped a copy of Modern Screen, your enticing, full-color portrait on the cover, chock-full of interviews, gossip, and most importantly, photos. A ball gown and come-hither stare. Lounging half-naked poolside. In a skimpy black dress with a fox fur piece draped around your neck, cigarette holder between your pretty lips as you leaned over a bar, your cleavage nearly spilling out from your dress.

That one had made him feel funny. Made his pants tighter around the crotch as his imagination ran wild. Thought about presenting you with a cat pelt he’d skinned and sewn up himself. Instead of running and screaming in fear like the girls at school, you’d accept it graciously, wearing it like the fine fox fur. A gentle hand on his chest, simpering eyes as you asked softly how you could ever repay him because he was your leading man. A kiss on his cheek, and then more. So much more.

Back then, he never considered how pretty you’d look when you cried for him. Grabbing a nearby pair of rusty scissors, he cut through your clothes, damp from sweat and spit and god knew what else, stuck to your skin. He peeled them off of you, unwrapping his once in a lifetime gift and wasting no time in touching your bare stomach that seized beneath his touch. His hands drifted upward, taking each of your soft breasts in his big hands, rough and calloused from years of hard labor. He brushed his thumbs against your nipples, raised from exposure to the cool air in his basement hovel. Pinching one between his fingers, he tugged on it, eliciting a whimper from you as the skin painfully stretched to its limit until he finally let go.

Frustrated by your barrage of pleas and protests, he grabbed a nearby rag and shoved it in your mouth. You gagged, senses overwhelmed by the taste of rancid blood and unidentifiable bodily fluids. He pressed his fingers against your abused cunt, marveling in the wetness as you whined like a stupid little deer that’d gotten its leg blown off during the hunt, strained bleating to be put out of its misery with a bullet to the head or a snap of its neck.

He growled, pressing his masked lips to yours, the friction from the leather re-opening the cuts that had split along your lips. You choked on your makeshift gag, tears streaming down your dirty face. He was almost dizzy. Or maybe he was in love–sweaty palms, racing hearts, an animalistic urge to possess, to mark, to maim.

Hoyt was the one who eventually caught him with the magazine. Being a bit too loud, he supposed. Instead of the tongue lashing he’d been expecting, he received a proud pat on the back instead, ‘Nothin’ to be ashamed of Tommy. You’re a man. ‘s natural after all,' Hoyt said. 'Try to keep it quiet ‘round mama, though. She still thinks you’re innocent.’

Innocent. Despite how much his mama tried, he hadn’t been innocent in a long time. You hadn’t been either. Your romantic trysts were in headlines or discussed on radio gossip programs. Those had been frequent, and his brow furrowed as he wondered who the hell you were to deny him. Hollywood floozy. Too good for him, just like every other woman.

He unzipped his pants, pulling his length from his pants and feeling himself growing harder at your muffled screams of protest. His size. He knew he was big, far too big for you to handle, but you’d make it work. As if you had any other choice.

Stroking his length with one hand, he scratched at your belly with his blunt nails on the other hand, shuddering at the fleeting thought of you bigger, pregnant with his child. With a ragged breath, Thomas positioned his cock in front of your aching cunt, reveling in your whines as he pushed in just the tip, feeling you strain around him, warm and soft. ‘I love you, Tommy,’ you had purred in his fantasies. ‘I want you to make me yours. Give me everything.’

He grunted as he buried his length deeper in you, a high-pitched squeal in return. His face felt hot beneath his mask, his cock twitching as your pussy clenched around him. You wanted it. You wouldn’t be so wet and pliant if you didn’t. Grabbing your hips, he slammed his hips against yours, burying his face in your neck, feeling how your throat strained to express your pain despite the gag. How easily he could grab a nearby knife and cut through the tender flesh, knowing just where to slice so he could watch your blood pour out of you, probably sparkling and pretty like your tears. It was perfect, you were perfect. Better than he’d ever imagined.

Pressing his body weight against you, he pinned you further, your twisting torso trapped in place beneath him as he relentlessly pounded into you, his huge cock pushing your cunt to its limits, and even further than that when he hit your cervix. Your tears poured down your cheeks, blood trickling between your legs. He was so close, he could almost reach out and touch it.

He wanted to keep you around. Wasn’t sure how he could make an appeal to mama or Hoyt, though. Probably useless around the house, let alone the farm, just a pretty face for his own amusement. ‘Another mouth to feed,’ he could practically hear Hoyt snarl. He still felt bad about Uncle Monty, now he was a burden on mama and Hoyt too. Making an exception for you would be far too much to ask. Besides, he never had luck keeping pets growing up. Was always too rough with them, too morbidly curious. Maybe it’d be different with you.

Glancing at the chainsaw beside him, he slammed into you again, his dark gaze fixed on the blood-rusted power tool.

No. It wouldn’t be. Because being this deep inside you made him only want to go deeper, see the extent of his love. Watch your heart beating in your chest for him. Stand over you as you bled out, rib cage cracked open in the ultimate display of vulnerability. You’d provide for his family, and he’d savor every moment, every bite that touched his lips, feeling you inside him. It was the only way. You’d be a part of him forever. Till death do you part.

He came with a loud groan, a primal howl muffled by his mask. Your abused pussy milked his cock until his seed spilled inside you, and his length became soft again. Laying his head on your heaving chest, he listened to your heartbeat. Rapid like a little mouse.

Nuzzling his face against your breasts, he settled against your warm skin, basking in it while he still could. You’d be even warmer once he opened you up. All too familiar with that sensation. He closed his eyes, though, imagining you lovingly running your fingers through his hair, a sweet, fucked out smile on your face. But there was no place for a man like him in Hollywood, and no place for a woman like you in Fuller. Star-crossed. What a shame.

You had stopped making noises through your gag, either too exhausted or simply resigned to your fate, only whimpering when he finally pulled out of you, your pussy feeling almost painfully empty. Eyes glazed over, they fluttered shut for a moment, but opened as soon as his hand caressed your cheek, pulling the rag from your mouth.

He watched silently as you sucked in a much needed breath, bringing on a coughing fit with how dry your throat was. You dissolved in a fit of sobs that echoed in this vast underbelly of terror, exacerbated by his attempt to kiss your forehead, pressing the leather against the deep lines in your distressed face. You struggled weakly, fruitlessly against the metal cuffs that secured you to the table.

Unlike in your movies, there was no one to save you this time, no gruff private eye or surly police chief to come in guns blazing at the last minute. Hoyt had already made you well aware he was no admirable man of the law. You were lucky to have ended up with Thomas. He thought the screams that came from the women Hoyt kept around–albeit temporarily–were more difficult to listen to than that of someone he was disembodying.

Sadistic. Thomas never considered himself such, but he understood the appeal of ravaging, tearing apart in a display of power that never failed to send adrenaline running through his veins. He would savor your demise, his magnum opus, unable to imagine someone else coming along and piquing his interest as much as you had.

He revved the chainsaw, taking in your raw screams as he raised it over his head. Lamented not having a camera around to capture how perfect you looked awaiting your end at his hands. It’s what you were made for. His movie star on the cutting room floor.

#thomas hewitt x reader #tommy hewitt x reader #leatherface x reader #slasher x reader #leatherface #thomas hewitt #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre 2003 #texas chainsaw massacre the beginning #slasher fandom #slasher community #tcm

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ataraxiaspainting · 4 months

Text

Animal Cannibal.

Yan Dottore x F Reader.

Synopsis: Violent individuals were frequently drawn to you, including your dear friend Willow, who shares your affinity for this destructive behavior. Your stalker, too, possesses a similar infatuation with you. The bond between the three of you lies in the intertwined emotions of violence and love.

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence/gore, stalking, cannibalism, minor character death, implied future kidnapping, manipulation, mentions of not SFW, and non-consensual human experimentation.

Word Count: 2.2k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Goo Goo Muck by The Cramps

Killer Queen by Queen

Psycho Killer - 2005 Remaster by Talking Heads

I Want To Break Free by Queen

Tip Toe Thru’ the Tulips with Me by Tiny Tim

Exploration by Bruno Coulais

Take on Me by a-ha

You Are My Sunshine by Charles McDonald

Everybody Loves Somebody by Dean Martin

Dream A Little Dream Of Me - Single Version by Ella Fitgerald (feat. Louis Armstrong)

“But love shouldn’t cost an arm and a leg!” – Possibly in Michigan (1983)

*~*~*~*

i. “My own experiments have given me a deep understanding of the true nature of suffering… and I’m keen to share it with a willing guinea pig, hm?”

You found a strange man outside of your house.

He was taller than you–with hair the color of mint that covered his eyes, his beard long and poorly taken care of with split ends and some leaves and small sticks stuck to the thicker parts of it.

He waved at you when he saw you approaching. He did not scare you, not one bit.

He did not blend into his surroundings well because of how unique his appearance was. He wore an open black waistcoat with some of its buttons hanging on by a loose thread and nothing underneath. His pants were torn from the knee down. Grossly, you smelled him before you even saw him.

“Hello, sir,” You say, stepping a bit closer carefully, skillfully, being sure to not make a sound to startle or agitate him. You have become well-acquainted with unfamiliar gentlemen lurking around your residence as daylight fades, after all. “It’s getting late, isn’t it? Do you have a place to stay? There is an inn nearby I think if you don’t.” For better or for worse, stealth is something you are quite intimate with. “Sir? Are you alright? Sir?” The man did not respond, simply looking past you like you were not there.

He looked on into the brightwood trees, the wild, overgrown bushes dotted with purple Sumeru roses, and the rising, circular moon. You have a sudden flash of inspiration; since you have no weapon on you, you could bite him and claw at him if he tried anything. Your eyes go downcast, to his tattered, dirty leather shoes, as you dismiss the idea.

“Excuse me? Do you need something? Sir?”

“I don't,” The man finally said, his voice raspy. “What about you? Do you live somewhere?”

“Here, I live here.” You could not hear what he mumbled as a response because of how quiet he was. “I live here. This is my home. You are outside my door and I can’t get in. Please, if you don’t need assistance, take a few steps back from it.”

Instead of looking at him, you look at your door. That is when you saw it; a hairpin lodged into your lock.

The man took it out and ran into the forest.

Despite the slight dents on your front door's lock, your house remained in good condition. Its aged appearance stood in stark contrast to the lush greenery that thrived just a few meters away. The wood showed signs of decay, with splits and a distinct scent of dampness and decomposing fish. Attached to the house was a collection of neglected Sumeru rose bushes, stunted and infested with flies. A rockery filled the space with an abundance of rocks, while a fairy ring composed of squishy brown toadstools emitted a dreadful odor when mistakenly stepped upon.

ii. “There is a sickness inside of me. I feel it eating away at me, eroding my mind and body. But I do not care. If I have to suffer for knowledge, I gladly will.”

The well outside your house was, for lack of a better word, still decrepit. But still, it seems like the man did not do anything to it. On the first day you moved in, all alone, the old couple that lived a hundred or so meters away made a point of telling you how dangerous the well was, and they warned you to be sure you kept away from it.

You found it as soon as you stepped onto the property, it was in front of your house after all, smelling strongly of damp, dirty water, behind a clump of trees—a low brick circle almost hidden in the high grass. There were nests of drain flies that from afar looked like crushed pebbles. It made you step back a bit in complete disgust before you turned in the opposite direction to put your things down.

Like most Sumeru forests, there were plenty of types of animals. There were crystalflies that were sometimes the only light source you had, frogs that sometimes crept up your legs as you walked in tall, wet blades of grass and nearly made you scream every time and lizards that always somehow found a way inside and slithered across your floors.

There was also an orange cat, who sat on walls and tree stumps and watched you while meowing loudly but slipped away hissing if ever you went over to scare it off.

You spent the first two weeks after you moved in making adjustments to the rather old house. You hardly ate or slept, you just worked. There were days when you did not change clothes or drink water even, being so focused on your work that you hardly noticed anything else around you.

“This is my favorite!” exclaimed Willow, pointing at the Padisarah Pudding that was blocked off by a wall of glass.

“How much mora is it?” You asked, taking out your wallet. “I'll buy it for you. I am buying some Samosas here anyway, so it is no trouble. If you want, I can buy you some too, I recommend getting the potato and pea one.”

“No,” Willow answered, shaking her head while chuckling. “I'm fine. I have to use up some old vegetables and meat anyway at home before they go bad or my parents are going to kill me for real.”

“Alright, be sure to check the ingredients beforehand for any dirt or mold,” you said. “‘I do not want you getting sick.”

You stood by one of the bakery’s windows, observing the rain pouring down. This rain wasn't the type you could venture out into; it was the other kind, cascading from the sky and creating splashes upon impact. This rain was serious, and its current agenda was transforming the streets into a murky, soggy mixture.

There was nothing to do here other than talk to Willow and wait for your food. Not that that was a bad thing in your book.

You had met through a mutual stalker, to put it simply, and now are inseparable. Even though that man is currently rotting in a prison cell, the past still influenced both of your actions. You just thank Lesser Lord Kusanali for granting you good fortune. With every new stalker, Willow seemed to be connected to them somehow, making you two even closer than before. You bond over your shared reverence of violence and love.

So, you start talking.

You start talking with a tone akin to someone making small talk over the weather, but instead of dark clouds or how bright the sun is, you talk about the man you saw yesterday. Willow listens, nodding a bit from time to time while still looking both outside the window and to the glass wall where the desserts were placed for the viewership of the customers. From the way she smiles with every word you say, you know you have piqued her interest yet again.

“Interesting.” She finally says, her back turned to you as she looks out to the rainstorm.

iii. “I wondered, why does a man who has done nothing think he deserves everything? That is what this experiment is about.”

“Hello?” You say, opening your door. “You're back.”

“Yes,” The man answered, playing with the buttons on his torn clothing. “Only for you, beloved.”

“Should I be honored?” You asked. “Who are you? What are you?”

“Your prince, what else?”

“Who or what else are you?”

“Someone utterly in love with you, someone you love too.”

“How do you know that?”

"My mouth,” The man answers, leaning in closer to you with his tongue out. “Look—look at it. The better to eat you with, my dear. It hungers for you. I just know you are the one to finally satisfy it. It is in a wolf's nature to feed, after all.”

“I see.” You look down as he kisses you, showing no resistance. He has holes in his shoes. His big toes are sticking out like sore thumbs. You suppose that they are, in a way.

“You have two choices. One, I will eat you now; or two, I will cut your arms and legs off one by one and eat them in front of you slowly as you cry on the floor covered in filth.”

You considered this carefully as you thought of an answer, preparing to ask him why.

So, you do, because he does not stop you and you want to know, don't you? He does not stop you.

He says for love.

You ask again.

He once again says it is for love. You say that love isn’t something given as part of an exchange or contract, that what he is asking for is bitter and dry.

He simply laughs. “For love.”

“But do you love me?"

“You smell so good, like the finest rose in all of Sumeru, all of Teyvat, even all of Celestia.”

Struggling would be useless. “Have there been others?” You ask.

"You must be the seventh," he remarked, leaving you to grapple with this realization. Escape became an impossible feat as he denied you any chance to flee.

As if responding to his words, the door creaked open, followed by a gunshot.

iv. “I could have simply sliced her apart the moment I saw her and threw her to my patients, but I could not waste someone as fascinating as her. She is a treasure trove of knowledge, and it is rather rare to find someone as interesting as her, my assistant.”

The man fell to the floor grasping his shot through chest. Willow helped you up. Life quickly faded from the man's once concealed eyes, his red eyes.

“The plan worked,” Willow said. “Good job. He won't see you anymore. We make a good team I think.”

You agree.

“You should boil some water.” She said.

You then shrugged. “I'm getting tired of soup.” You responded. “I want sauce or something to go with the Samosas.”

Willow did not say anything for a moment.

It was dark outside now, with the rain still falling from the sky and making tiny splatters on the soil, making it hard to see out the window.

Perhaps making soup for dinner was not a bad idea after all. Days like this called for comfort. “Fine,” You say, and Willow smiles. “I’ll start prepping ingredients.”

“I’ll run to my home and get the leftovers I talked about.” She is already putting back on her coat before you can rebut.

You sighed as you heard the door close. It was time to get to work, you suppose.

“Come out, my friend.” You take the meat cleaver out from the kitchen drawer where you put the rest of your knives, the said cleaver still stained with blood from the month before. “You are unsightly if I am being perfectly honest with you.” You mutter, shaking your head.

…

Dinner went off without any problems. It was a lovely feast. However, heating the Samosas without breaking them was kind of difficult for you because you only had one small pan and one large pot.

Something creaks in the distance.

Creeeeeeeeak. The floorboards. You and Willow are too busy talking to notice. The sound came from your bedroom. A man with a mustache the color of rotting mint that covered his mouth and chin, his filthy brown hair long and dirty, and even some animal fur being laid about everywhere on his scalp.

He sneaks out your bedroom window.

His shadow was hardly seen by either of you because of how fast he ran.

He was like a spider. The comparison was sort of funny because he knew how much you hated them.

He has to eventually make his way to Port Ormos to catch his boat back to Snezhnaya.

But that can wait for later. You are so much better than business and any other projects he is currently doing or has discarded.

All he can think about is you. He thinks of what to tell the current him, of how many stalkers you and your friend have murdered in retribution for their harassment.

Would he be delighted?

Would he be angered?

There is no way to know for sure. After all, whenever someone tries to talk to him they have to tread the line between being too nice and being too rude unless they want to find themselves on the other side of the operations.

There is just one more thing he needs to check before he goes. Just one. It will only take a minute. It will be quick.

He steps on the old well’s edge and looks down into the murky water.

He sees one of the clones’ skulls floating on the surface, its disintegrating bone covered in flies fighting each other for the tiniest scraps of fat.

They buzzed and buzzed until he could not take it anymore and threw a large rock, breaking the cranium and scaring away the flying insects, though there is no doubt that maggots are being born where the eyes and tongue used to be.

You and Willow throw the bones down the well. Just what he thought.

Good.

v. “My work is the purest form of art there is. It requires painstaking detail and absolute perfection, all in the spirit of scientific advancement and understanding. As an example, the first part of this experiment in particular is a success.”

#yandere #author aya #yandere x reader #yandere dottore #dottore #fatui harbingers #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere dottore x reader #yandere fatui harbingers #yandere fatui #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere il dottore #yandere il dottore x reader

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nsharks · 5 months

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part fourteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Blue holds her arm out, stopping you from taking another step.

"Sh. I see one."

Up ahead, a squirrel stills on a tree, beady eyes unblinking. In a matter of seconds, Blue throws her knife and pins it to the bark through the stomach.

"Nice," you comment. "You got it on the first try this time."

In your hand is the other squirrel she killed for you. Ghost started working on your bow yesterday. He didn't say anything to you about it, but you spotted him sitting on the porch chiseling away at a hunk of oak. Until he's finished, you've struck another deal: helping Blue skin the rabbits in exchange for her killing squirrels with you. She's better at killing them with a knife than you are.

"This is good practice for me." She wriggles the knife out and hands you the kill. "Poor guy didn't see it coming."

"Probably better that way."

She slips the knife back to her ankle. "Do you need more? Or is two enough."

"Two is enough. I saw these flowers by the trench that I think are edible."

"You can eat flowers?" She makes a face. The two of you begin heading back toward the camp. You didn't go off too far with her. Ghost said she wasn't allowed to go past the pond without him. Truthfully, you were surprised he let her go with you at all.

"Yeah. Pink Sorrel. They taste lemony, and I'll add the leaves, too. Like a salad."

"Yum," she says sarcastically. "Did Paul teach you that?"

You nod. "He knew a lot about plants."

"Are you sure he didn't like you?"

"Blue," you almost groan. "You've asked me this twice now."

"Well, you seemed to have spent a lot of time with him, and he taught you a lot of things."

"You can spend time with someone and learn things from them without... liking them."

"I wouldn't know," she shrugs, waving her hand around. "There are no boys here for me to spend time with besides Ghost."

"Paul didn't like me in that way," you reaffirm. "Besides, he's dead."

There is a lingering pause as a cloud rolls over the sun, turning everything dim before it passes. The weather these past few days has been fluctuating like true spring. Cold showers in the morning, intense sunlight by noon, and clouds that come and go. The cabbages Blue planted have sprouted fat, juicy leaves. You've mentally scolded yourself for not including seeds in your deal with Ghost.

"So when are you and Ghost going to start training or whatever?" Blue speaks up, switching subjects.

"Training?" you repeat.

"He told me you wanted to learn some things." She glances at you. "Look, let me just warn you, he can be a real hard ass. One time, he made me climb up and down a tree twenty times without stopping. And another time, he made me throw knives over and over until I hit the exact same spot on the tree again."

Right. Somehow, that last request you made of him has slipped your mind. You did ask him to teach you how to better defend yourself against other people.

It's been over a week now, and the two of you still haven't talked much except for the necessities. Honestly, it's probably best that way. Maintaining a clinical relationship with him should keep the peace and maybe even earn more of his trust. You're growing confident that he doesn't see you as much of a threat anymore. Last night, you ran into him again after waking up from another dream, and all he did was walk past you, step outside for a cigarette, and then go back to his room. He didn't seem suspicious of you being up at all.

That said, the reminder of the 'training' he's supposed to give you makes your teeth snag onto your lip.

When you don't respond, Blue adds, "What exactly do you want him to show you? I hate to say it, but I don't think he'll give you one of his guns."

"No," you shake your head. "I don't want that. It's not Greys that I'm as worried about. As long I've got distance, I can use my bow for them. It's more about... other people. They get close. Too close."

"Well, you can always bite their nose off," she gives a bump to your shoulder.

You cringe. "I'd rather not have to do that again."

She pauses, looking at her boots. "What did it taste like?"

"Fucking awful. Probably the grossest thing I've ever experienced."

She looks up. "If you were a Grey, you would've loved it."

"Well, I'm human still, and I much prefer these guys." You wag the dead squirrels in front of her face and she laughs. If you could replace all her tears with that sound, you would.

"You still haven't answered my question," Blue tilts her head. "When are you getting started? Because I have some training in mind for you, too."

You arch a brow but don't question it. "Um. I don't know. Ghost hasn't said anything to me about it, and he's busy working on my bow right now."

"Why don't you ask him, then?" She shoots you a knowing smirk. "Are you scared of him, Twix?"

"No," you say all too quickly. "No... I'm not. I just don't know how to talk to him. He's not exactly approachable."

"Just do what I do. I say whatever I want to him. Except when he's pissed, then—" she freezes for a moment and lays a hand on your shoulder. "—it's better to shut up and listen. Believe me."

You speak under your breath. "Noted."

It's another dream that night which pushes you to actually confront him. The loud voices sharpen into images— a bloodied knife at your throat, a toothy smile, carved body parts. You wake up and grab your neck, expecting to feel severed tissue. Instead, you feel damp skin. Something bubbles up your throat and fills your mouth. Squirrel and Pink Sorrel. The taste makes you shudder, but you swallow your dinner back down. The dark, quiet living room mocks you.

The morning after that, you find him on the porch. It's not raining, but the air pricks the back of your neck with dew. You've already bathed and woven your hair into braids, which is growing longer by the day and bordering on an inconvenience.

Ghost tilts his head the second a wood plank creaks beneath your footsteps, tearing his gaze away from the assortment of carving knives in his lap. You've caught him in the moment before he's started to work on your bow again.

He is wearing that balaclava that makes him look more man than ghost, along with a black hoodie and faded, brown jacket. The whites of his eyes are visible, slowly sliding up to yours. You fully realize he isn't going to greet you with a hello, and standing there in an uncomfortable silence doesn't interest you, so you bite the bullet.

"I want to start that other thing I asked you for."

He seems to know what you're referring to. "Right now?"

Your nails dig into your palms, realizing that you should've waited for a time when he wasn't preoccupied. Though, he's hardly ever not doing something.

Blue was right. Something about him has you subconciously on the defensive; it's something you want to get over if this living arrangement is going to be long-term, which you'd prefer it to be. It was about two months ago now that he nearly killed you, and since then, he has kept you alive ten times over. Maybe you should focus on that: on the hand that pulled you up, on the warm jacket over your shoulders, on the bow he is making.

"Whenever you have the chance. But— now, if we could."

Ghost lowers his eyebrows and seems to think it over. "Now is fine. Your bow will have to wait a bit, then."

"That's okay," you speak as you exhale. "I don't mind."

It's at that moment Blue pushes through the front door and you almost startle. "Can I come with you guys?"

Ghost folds his knives up and responds in a firm tone. "No. You have work to finish up."

"But my leg is hurting," she retorts lightly. "I'd rather sit and watch you guys."

"Your leg was just fine yesterday when you were hunting and climbing trees."

"That was yesterday. Today, it hurts." She bites her lip and shrugs.

"How convinient." He gives her a dry look.

"So is that a yes?"

"It's a no."

With a groan, she goes back inside.

Ghost escorts you out of the gate and towards a small clearing nestled within a circle of trees. As you follow behind him, you find your eyes straying to his broad back and for a moment, you wonder if maybe you've changed your mind— or maybe you want to tell him to wait until Blue can come join.

But you remind yourself that survival is a proactive game; you can't laze around and keep getting sick from the memories. You need to shut them away into that box you've made, and in the meantime, get stronger.

"Here is good," he says, stopping.

It's been awhile since you've done anything like this. There were plenty of times Paul 'trained' you. He used to make you shoot at the trees until your back muscles were practically immobile. As an ex forest ranger, he wasn't much of a fighter. His advice was always this: "Don't let anyone or anything get close enough to where you have to fight them."

Clearly, his advice can only go so far.

In the five years you were at your old camp, you managed to keeps things at a distance for the most part. A few Greys had snuck up on you, resulting in thrashing and wrestling around to avoid bites. But there were only one or two times that you had to engage in close combat with a human. The few other survivors you encountered were usually punished by Paul's rifle or your arrows.

You shed your jacket and hang it on a branch, left in just Ghost's shirt and your jeans. "So, um, what should I start with? Running laps?"

"You want to learn how to defend yourself, not run a marathon."

"Right." You nod and rub at the gooseflesh that sprouts on your arm. You turn to face him. "I was joking."

Ghost ignores your comment with a pensive expression, staring you down across the short distance. You put on a blank face and meet his eyes expectantly.

The silence stretches for a second longer than what would be deemed normal. Is this just how he is, then? Or is it only with you? You're about to say something to put an end to it when he suddenly crosses his arms over his chest.

"You were a nurse." It should come out like a question, but it's more of a statement. His voice nearly makes you jump.

You can't help it; you look away. "Um. I... wasn't, actually."

Why is he bringing this up? Never once has he asked anything about you. In fact, you sometimes toy with the thought that he might have forgotten your real name by now.

"Figured," he says.

You frown, flashing him a confused look. "What? Why?"

"You're a bit too young to have been a nurse five years ago."

You think back to the moment he found you with an inward wince. "So you knew I wasn't telling the truth?"

"It didn't matter if you were or not."

That's right. I don't need a nurse, he said.

"It wasn't a total lie," you clarify, dropping your arms at your sides. "I was in nursing school."

He rubs his chin. "You should understand the body, then— its weak points."

Your fingers flex before they gesture to your face. "The nose and eyes are obvious ones. But... but if someone grabs me from behind like," you forcefully inhale, "Like you did, then I won't be able to reach them."

He gives a short nod, then looms closer. You will your boots to remain planted in the damp soil despite the overwhelming proximity and intimidating mass of him. You blink up as he points a gloved finger to the hinge of his jaw. "There's this, too. Pretty easy to dislocate." His fingers move to side of his corded neck. "And here. The throat is weak and vital."

"I still wouldn't be able to reach those," you point out.

"You have more than just your arms, Twix."

"So my head, then?"

"That's one way." He moves a step back and you release a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Why don't you show me what you'd do— give it a try."

The suggestion should be expected given what you're asking of him— of course he would have to touch you at somepoint. Yet, it makes you stiffen. He motions his hand for you to turn around and with great hesitance, you comply, until you hear the crunch of twigs beneath his boots as he closes in behind you. You stare straight ahead at a tree and focus on breathing.

"Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

His flat tone makes your eyes twitch in irritation and you are glad he can't see them. "Yeah. I know."

Just as he did all that time ago, his burly arms wrap around you, though not as firm and threatening. Your feet don't hang and you're not skin and bones this time, but once again, you are imprisoned against a hard chest. Your lungs pick up their pace and an artery in your neck jolts.

"Just show me what you'd do," he says slowly, warm breath fanning across the top of your hair. "Don't worry about hurting me."

You wriggle against him, but even without issuing all his strength, it's useless. You stomp on his foot, figuring that toes are pretty vulnerable, but his thick boot hurts your sole more than you could possibly have hurt him. Your eyes begin to sting. You suddenly find yourself panting in frustration. Before you can even think about trying to use your head, full-blown panic unfurls in your chest.

"Let go," you say under your breath. He must not hear you. Your voice turns to a snarled hiss. "Fucking let go of me."

His hold immediately loosens and you stagger forward, creating much-needed distance. Heavy breaths scratch up your throat. You wipe the back of your hand over your forehead and close your eyes for a moment, seeing blood and burnt skin against the backs of your lids. When you reopen them, Ghost is staring at you. The humiliation sets in as a red flush on your cheeks.

"Sorry," you shake your head and stare up at the clouded sky. "Just— maybe we should go back." Your arms hug around your stomach to keep its contents contained. "We can start this another day."

Throwing up in front of him again is low on the list of things you'd enjoy doing. He's already seen you near-death— no need to add a mental breakdown to your repertoire. Your lips press tightly together as you head to the tree for your jacket, but his gruff voice pauses your fingers against the embroidered flag on its sleeve.

"This isn't going to work if you don't tell me what is bothering you."

Your hand drops. "What?"

"What happened when you went to get the ammo, Twix?" he presses.

"I..."

To tell him would be to pry open that box you've made and let him peek inside. He has never even asked a single question about you until today, so you press onto the lid, tight, and turn to face him with pleading eyes. "I don't want to talk about it with you, Ghost. Don't make me."

In response, he lifts up his hands in resignation. "Alright." He lowers them. "Why don't you at least tell me how you handled it?"

"Why?"

He taps a finger to his masked temple. "So I can understand how you think. How you keep surviving all this shit."

The wave of nausea settles as you form your response. "I... I burned him. He cleaned the bite on my arm with some alcohol. I distracted him a little and then smashed the bottle on his head. I had my lighter, so I used it."

Slowly, he nods, as if your words are not all that surprising to him. "And how about at the base when I left you?"

"There was that Grey," you remind him. "I bit the guy's nose and pushed him into it. If it hadn't been there, Blue and I would be dead. You see? I survived because I was lucky. I hardly know what I'm doing."

Ghost argues. "You survived because you saw opportunities and took them. You were smart about it."

"And what about when there are no opportunities? I will just panic like I did now." The tightness in your chest turns into something that has you roughly grabbing the jacket and sheathing your bare arms. "Let's just go back now.”

This time, he doesn't protest. The silence that clouds the short walk back is expected on his part, and purposeful on yours.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost #cod #simon ghost riley x reader #fanfiction

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