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mysecretlittlelibrary · 11 months

Text

NFWMB (Nothing Fucks With My Baby)

Pairing: Reader x Venom

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: you get kidnapped, there's some cannon level violence, nothing to write home about <3

Genre: idk if I should really classify this as angst fr but the ending is fluffy!

Summary: Carnage returns, his mission remains the same; kill Venom. And he plans to use you to do it.

Based on this ask by @weebnotheree (thank you so much for the request, I know it took a while so I appreciate your patience, I hope you like it <3)

***

"Hey y/n!" Your coworker skirts over to your desk with curious excitement.

"Yes?" You glance up from your computer at her.

"Your boyfriend is a reporter isn't he?"

"Correct. Where is this going exactly?"

"Well do you think he'd be able to come cover the charity gala this weekend?" She asks.

"He doesn't really- cover this sort of thing? He'd need to get assigned to it. But I can check with him, he can ask his boss and maybe they'll send someone else down." You concede. It can't hurt, after all, you do need the exposure for the event anyway.

Hours later, after you've both gotten home from work and eaten dinner. You're winding down for the day with Eddie by watching a show together when you propose the question from your coworker.

"Eddie quick question." You say, not lifting your head from his shoulder.

"Yeah?" He's been tracing patterns against your leg for the past ten minutes.

"Do you think you could come cover the charity gala this weekend? My coworker Dani thought it'd be a good idea." You tell him.

"I don't usually write those sorts of pieces." He hums.

"I know I told her, but I also told her I'd ask anyway. It doesn't have to be you, if your boss sends someone else that's fine. We're just aiming to get more eyes on the event." You shrug.

"I'll talk to my boss. He'll probably send someone. Not me though."

"Yeah that's fine, I know these aren't your thing, you don't have to come." You say.

"Say what?" You feel him shift to look at you.

"I drag you to enough work functions. I'll let you skip out on this one." You pat his chest lightly.

"Don't have to tell me twice." Eddie snorts turning back to the TV.

"Technically I already did tell you twice." You chuckle.

"Smartass." He pinches your thigh.

"Always." You sit up just to wink at him.

The following day, you are accosted by Dani pretty much as soon as she walks into the office.

"Did you ask him?"

"Ask who, what Dani?" You ask though you know exactly what she's talking about. "Also have you forgotten that the proper way to start a conversation is with a greeting? What happened to hi? What happened to how are you?"

"Hi, how are you? Did you ask your boyfriend about covering the gala?" She says.

"Hi Dani, I'm doin' alright. How are you?" You ask her.

"Y/n!" She huffs.

"Yes Dani I asked. He said he'd talk to his boss. Knowing Eddie, someone will probably be at the gala. It's handled." You finally cave and give her the answers she came for.

"You're the best!" She tells you.

"I know, thanks." You chuckle. You shrug.

The day of the gala is chaos from the minute preparations start. It's not really anything that surprises you and you've been handling everything that comes your way with ease.

"Y/n!" Your coworker Wendy grabs your attention when you're sorting out something with one of the photographers.

"Yes Wendy?" You aks.

"The uh catering staff is here do you know where they're supposed to-"

"They just got here?! They were supposed to be here an hour ago! Who was on that? They should've been checking for- oh never mind! Their tables are over there on that wall and tell them to hurry Wen the event is literally starting." You sigh pointing her in the right direction. The event is just gaining momentum, doors opened about twenty minutes ago and aside from the catering situation that has just been taken care of, as far as you know, everything is precisely as it should be. At least you hope so since you did come here a couple of hours in advance to make sure things were ready. You aren't technically in charge of this event but you are naturally better at organizing chaos and these events tend to be a bit of a frenzy on the day no matter how prepared you are in advance.

Tonight is your company's annual charity gala. Every year the board votes on a cause to raise money for by hosting a huge party. This year's cause is a charity that supports kids getting involved in the arts. There are a bunch of art projects on display, some of which will be up for auction at the end of the evening, but the goal is to shmooze with the community members effectively enough that they want to support the charity. You spend most of these galas working optics; talking to reporters, setting up pictures, and just generally organizing things throughout the night. As part of the company's public relations department events like these are your specialty. Carefully curating the perception of everything that goes on here tonight with the help of the other members of the department here tonight.

You're pleased to say that a couple of hours in, the event is going off without a hitch. Once it's in full swing, you have your hands full giving statements to different press outlets and sending photographers to snap the board of directors with guests of the event. Just as you're preparing the host for his introductory speech, you notice a small crowd gathering by one of the large glass windows overlooking the city.

"What's going on over there?" The host frowns at you.

"I'm- not sure. Probably just some nightlife chaos got people's attention." You shrug but before you can walk up the stage there's a shout from a few of the guests followed by the sound of shattered glass as something crashes through that large window. The room erupts into chaos as red goop shoots out at people. It only takes you a couple of moments to realize the thing currently ruining your gala is Carnage. You didn't meet him or anything last time they faced off, but Eddie gave you enough of a description to come to that conclusion when you spot the bright red tentacles and eyes so like Venom's but different at the same time.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." You huff quietly from where you're crouched behind a curtain with the gala host.

"What is that thing?!" He hisses.

"Doesn't matter. Find the nearest exit and run like hell." You tell him.

"What?! You want me to go out there?! What if it sees me?" He shakes his head. You poke your head out just enough to see Carnage. Weirdly enough he just seems to be picking up people and dropping them on the ground again.

"You ever seen that thing before?" You ask.

"God no!"

"He's looking for something. Unless you think it's you, I'd suggest taking the risk before he starts getting snackish!"

"W-what?!"

"We know you're here! We did our RESEARCH!" The man beside you is practically shaking as Carnage's deep voice rings through the room.

"He's coming this way, you have to move now." You say.

"What about you?"

"He's more likely to notice two of us. I'll be out after you." You're so busy directing the guy you don't realize how close Carnage is to you all until the curtain you're behind is ripped off its bar.

"AHA! THERE YOU ARE!"

"GO! GET OUT OF HERE NOW!" You shout to the guy as Carnage reaches for- you. He's reaching for you, you realize only when one spindly spider-like appendage wraps around your waist.

"How noble of you. We weren't after him- but if you must be the hero-" Carnage easily reaches the scrambling host before he can get to the door and all you can do is shut your eyes tight when Carnage lifts him up. It's only when his screams stop suddenly and something warm drips onto your arm that you're sure is blood. You don't dare to check what Carnage has done, but if you had to guess, he bit his head off; much like Venom does when you or Eddie allows him to. Your eyes only shoot open when Carnage starts to move again, swinging back out the hole he came in through and taking you through the city. You're in the air for quite some time before eventually, Carnage drops you, rather gently for a kidnapper, on the ground inside a dusty building.

"Hello, little thing." Carnage says to you.

"I could have sworn Venom dealt with you already." You cross your arms.

"Almost. I was lucky to escape."

"Unfortunate for the rest of us." You muse.

"Rude!"

"Let me remind you that you did kidnap me so excuse me if I'm not kind." You roll your eyes. "I take it my role is to lure Venom to you? Right?"

"Correct. He cares for you. So he will come."

"Of course, he will. Though, disrupting my work event was an unnecessary scene just to lure him out to- where are we?"

"An old firehouse!"

"Wow you really are a baby." You scoff realizing he's chosen another location where loud noise is common.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing nothing. I presume you have a different host now right? That other guy, the serial killer, died the last time, didn't he?"

"I am bonded to his blood! I can regenerate!"

"I'm sorry- so you regenerated… an entire head for your last host?"

"Yes!"

"That is- very strange." You frown. "Still, this place doesn't hold sentimental value to Cletus so- how will they find you?"

"Oh just call them." Cletus makes an appearance, finally, and rolls his eyes as he makes his request.

"Call them? You want me to call them and lead them to where you plan to kill them?"

"Yes. Or I'll kill you."

"That would be stupid. Killing me won't get you what you want." You scoff.

"CARNAGE! YOU TOOK MY CHOCOLATE DROP! I'M GOING TO RIP YOU TO SHREDS!!"

"Guess we don't need to call him." Carnage says pushing you into the fire engine that's collecting dust in the unused building.

"WAS DYING ONCE NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU?!" Venom stomps towards Carnage.

"Father. I'm not that easy to get rid of!"

"EVIDENTLY!" Venom charges at Carnage and the two of them are quickly destroying the old brick firehouse you're occupying. From inside the fire truck you're in, it's hard to tell who's winning for most of the fight. It's all too quick and too fluid the way they're throwing each other around. By the time you've gotten a handle on what's going on between the duo, Carnage has Venom pinned to one of the walls that they haven't totally ruined already. Frantically you turn towards the control panel of the fire engine, you can't imagine it's still fully operational but there's a chance you can find some way to make noise with this thing. You need to give Venom the upper hand somehow.

"V!" You shout and cover your ears for only a moment before pressing as much of your weight as you can into the horn of the truck and hoping for the best. You can't explain the relief that you feel when that horrid loud noise fills the small space and Carnage screeches. You let up on the horn once he stumbles away from Venom, his attention on you now that you've gotten involved.

"You!" Carnage snarls. You lay into the horn again before he can get to you and the sound seems to disrupt him enough to almost completely separate him from Cletus. You let up when Eddie has crept up behind them and Venom takes over to fully rip Carnage from Cletus by force. You didn't think that was possible and it is extremely strange to watch. Venom grabs Cletus with an extra appendage and holds him far in the air as he eats the angry red goop that is Carnage.

"EVEN WORSE THE SECOND TIME." Venom grumbles and you can't help but giggle a little. The noise makes Venom wink at you before turning his attention to Cletus. "THIS TIME STAY DEAD!" Venom says before biting his head off, out of your line of sight. You come out of the fire truck just in time to catch him dropping the body.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!" Venom runs over to you and lifts you into his arms so you're eye level with him as he looks over you for injuries.

"I'm fine V. He didn't actually hurt me. You got here so quickly." You muse.

"EDDIE WAS WATCHING COVERAGE OF YOUR GALA." Venom explains.

"It was going so well until he crashed it." You pout. "You don't have any other errant children we should know about right Venom?"

"NO. NOT THAT I KNOW OF." Venom shrugs lowering you back to the ground.

"Good because this kidnapping thing is very inconvenient." You say. Eddie chooses that moment to reappear and he quickly wraps his arms around you.

"Y/n, baby, thank fuck you're okay. I am so sorry." He breathes out.

"You're sorry? What for?" You frown as you hug him back.

"If I had just come to the damn gala in the first place-" You pull back and hold Eddie's face in your hands to make sure he hears what you say next.

"No. It wouldn't have changed anything. In fact, it would actually have been worse I think. There were hundreds of people in that building and we were on one of the higher floors. The casualties if you had fought him there would have been so not worth it. This was the best outcome. I'm sure there were several injuries but I think there was only one death besides him so- don't apologize. Especially because there was no way you could've predicted him crashing my event. Don't blame yourself because other than a ruined charity gala and the inconveniences that come with a kidnapping, I've barely got some scrapes. You two did well." You tell him.

"We couldn't have done it without you. The fire horn was a great idea."

"Yeah well, you were going to die. And I didn't have any fire." You shrug. "We should get out of here though, I can't imagine it'll take much longer for authorities to get here in search of the red monster that crashed a charity event." You add.

"True. The party looked beautiful by the way. You know, before Carnage trashed it." Eddie says scooping you into his arms.

"Thank you baby." You kiss his cheek just before Venom appears again to take you all home.

"I WANT A KISS TOO! I DID ALL THE WORK."

"You can have as many kisses as you want V." You say kissing his cheek too as he walks out of the trashed fire station with you in his hold.

"I WANT ALL THE KISSES THEN!" He declares as he swings you both up into the air.

"Once we get home I'll kiss you til my lips fall off if you so wish my love." You giggle.

"NOT THAT MANY! IF THEY FALL OFF I WON'T GET ANY MORE IN THE FUTURE!"

"Okay okay. Reasonable amount of kisses, once we get home. Deal?"

"DEAL!" Venom says before taking off from building to building to get you home. There's no such thing as normal when your boyfriend is sharing his body with an alien you suppose, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #venom fluff #venom x reader #venom fanfiction #venom #eddie brock fluff #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock fanfic #eddie brock #venom angst ?#venom angst #requests

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devilmademewriteit · 1 year

Text

Ultraviolence

pairing: raider!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: thank god—a handsome stranger saves you from the grips of a pack of cruel, cruel men. unfortunately, said stranger, joel miller, is cut from the exact same cloth as the rest of them.

warnings: oh. boy. rough sex/smut (fem penetration, fingering, cum play if you squint) so 18+ only content; fem!afab!reader; raider!joel; canon typical violence; mentions of hair pulling/reader having long hair; light dacryphilia; age gap; pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, girl); slapping, spanking, choking; !!!NONCON!!! (sexual violence/assault, coercion, allusions to more sexual abuse—Dead Dove, Do Not Eat y’all, protect yourselves).

word count: 4k+

no use of y/n in this fic

alright y’all!!! here is the non-con raider!joel fic!! stay tuned for the version coming out soon wherein Joel actually rescues the reader LOL join the taglist to be notified when I post it!!! y’all’s requests will quite legit be the death of me BUT this was fun to write so im not mad. this version is just purely depraved & Joel ‘Big Dick’ Miller is a mean mean man. wrote it pretty fast too so b nice 2 me.

love u all, sorry for searing your eyeballs:)

-em<3

—

The stucco prickles and tears at the flushed skin of your cheek, a reminder that it’ll be winter soon. The birds are sure of it, and most of them managed to get away before the frost stood a chance of nipping them.

You didn’t.

After a few years of non-stop struggle, losing everything but your own life, you figured there were worse ways to go. At least you would be… well—you, in the end.

In whatever shape this man and his leering group of accomplices left you in.

“Against the wall,” and his voice had been the crack of a whip, snapping by your ear as electricity shot up and down your spine, as the tingling realization that the chase was over—the jig, up—settled into your bones. “Spread your fuckin’ legs.”

There were more hounds around… waiting.

Always waiting.

They’d already gotten to your old, tattered clothes. The brisk air bites at your exposed skin, but at least the cold would account for the violent shivers wracking your limbs. Even as the beast pins you to the side of the decrepit house, forces himself between your knees, your primary preoccupation is to stifle your fear.

They’d get everything else on display—but they would never get to see that.

When the screaming starts, those confused grunts, huffs, and squelches of a blade carving into flesh, you mostly commend your own imagination:

“I did it. I’m in my happy place. This will be quick, then.”

But then a rough, unfamiliar hand grabs hold of your naked waist, flipping you around, slamming your spine against the frosty stucco.

This is real.

And you bear witness to his carnage.

He painted the side of the house into a mosaic of inter-mingling blood, splattered like a Pollock against the grass, the wrinkled clothes and the rugged face of your salvation.

His eyes rake over your still-trembling body before he wrenches a red-coated knife—never breaking eye-contact—from the throat of the man you’d been at the mercy of just a few seconds ago.

Blood gushes up from the fatal wound, and you both watch the cruel scene, mesmerized. The attacker’s eyes dull, all evil dissipating from that once-ferocious gaze. The rescuer’s big, wide hands flip him over, stripping him of his stained beige jacket. Then, he carelessly kicks the lifeless form face-down onto the yellowing grass.

“Put it on.”

You uncross your arms, snatching the coat from the stranger’s extended hands. It doesn’t bother you, its belonging to him.

He’s dead; you get his coat.

A fair exchange.

He keeps an eye on you as he sorts through the pickings: a few strips of dried meat here, a loaded gun there (two bullets in the clip—you watch as he checks), and a few good blades, stashed inside pockets, bags, and down shirt-fronts.

The man straightens up.

Tall.

“Get in front of me,” his low baritone strikes you, causing your knees to concede to a slight wobble. “You run, you die. Got it?”

Texan.

Slowly, you nod, and a firm grip circles your wrist, tearing you from the wall.

“Walk.”

Your heart hammers—near deafening in your ears—as the stranger stalks behind you, directing your trembling movements with brusque, snapped commands.

Finally, the scattered orangey-red leaves begin to multiply, the domestic remnants of a past civilization thinning. The neighborhood opens into a field; large oaks and slouching willows shiver under the weak glare of the afternoon sun.

There’s a house up there. It seems to be in alright shape (some things are built tougher than others) and it’s certainly a step up from a few of the more… unsavory places the outbreak had led you to.

Nearing it, you take not of how much it resembles a barn-house. Red, pentagonal roof, and a big, wide, brown front door.

Gingerly stepping a foot on the cracked wood of the porch, you turn to face your rescuer, uncertainty tying slippery knots in your tummy.

Because there’s clamour coming from inside. There’s people in there.

The momentary hesitation allows you to get a good look at your rescuer: he’s greying and dark—mixed, likely, or just disposed to a stubborn tan—and probably in his mid forties. Probably handsome, too, if it weren’t for the resident cruel scowl deepening his apathetic expression, or the violence dancing in his eyes.

A raise of his eyebrows.

“I tell you to stop?” He nods towards the looming house. “Move.”

But… you don’t.

“Are you gonna kill me?” and you’re downright shocked by the strength—the resignation—of your tone, the way the question comes out so matter-of-fact.

That sparse mustache crinkles in the corners, teasing into something wicked. “You want me to?”

“No.”

“So get movin’, then.”

That left little room for debate.

So, you turn, fingers and knees shaking with anxious anticipation. He cuts in front of you at the last minute, shoving the front door open with his knife at his side—for you or for something else, you’re not entirely certain.

He pulls you into the foyer by your forearm; to your great dismay, you’re faced with an entire group of middle-aged men. Killers—for sure—leering at you with that same starved, animalistic look your rescuer had fixed you with.

Then, he tosses the bag on the floor.

“Found ‘em by the school. Decent haul.”

Their eyes tilt to your shuddering frame, dwarfed by the jacket weighing down your shoulders. One of them looks strangely familiar, proud features reminding you of something else you were afraid of. “No shit, huh,” he commends, “Nice work, Joel.”

Joel.

As the shaggy-haired man speaks, his voice strikes familial resemblance, and it dawns on you. Your rescuer’s brother, or at the very least a cousin.

And what he says is a clearly marked taunt. That much is clear. Uttered with the kind of cruel camaraderie which collected on the tongues of men who committed acts of violence together.

Who hunted together.

And it’s obvious you’re not being rescued. Just… reclaimed. Redistributed.

Fuck.

Another voice joins the mix. “How much you think y’could get for her?”

Joel’s profile turns, harsh, brutal lines forming as he assesses you. “Depends,” and then—ohmothermary—he smirks.

“Gonna have to test her out first.”

A few snickers.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

You’re trapped with nowhere to go, once again surrounded by a gaggle of soulless monsters. Fear grips you, but thankfully, it’s muted, now, having been mostly expended during the harrowing events of the morning.

Just an hour ago, pressed to the side of an abandoned house, you’d allowed yourself to give up.

So, it feels easy—natural—settling back into that rhythm.

To submit to your inevitable, violent fate.

Joel’s voice cuts through the clamour of your racing thoughts. “Upstairs, the room with the open door. Go.”

Eyes glued to the floor, you put one foot in front of the other, your insides twisting and turning inside your core. Fuck, you can feel the pairs of eyes following you with every step you take. The stairs creak as your weight presses into them, squealing like wounded prey.

“N’ take that fuckin’ jacket off,” Joel calls after you, the echoes of his booming voice and the group’s degrading laughter chasing you all the way up into the room—the one with the open door.

And it’s nice, surprisingly. Dusty, admittedly, and clearly having belonged to someone else—a long, long time ago—but the bed is made, the window lets the light in, and the walls remind you of cinnamon.

No, this wouldn’t be the worst prison. Or the worst place to die. It’s a sure-fire step up from the gutter between two dilapidated houses.

You keep the jacket on, shivering under its weight. Even as you hear footsteps climbing the stairs, even as the more rational, civilized side of your mind urges you to accede to your (non)rescuer’s every command.

The conversation downstairs dies off just as Joel rounds the corner, appearing in the doorway—a giant. Though your stomach lurches, and though your legs feel like putty, you hold your ground.

“I’ll fight, you know,” you hiss, watching him seal off the entrance to the room behind him. His flannel has droplets of blood on the collar—reminders of your previous captor—would your other attacker have been a better option? Who’d be more merciful to your quivering body?

You charge your voice with every last modicum of strength at your disposal. “I’ll fight.”

He turns, smirking softly at your clenched fists. “S’good, sweetheart. I like a little fight.” He stalks towards you, swiping his thumb along the plushness of his bottom lip, his intimidating presence forcing your back to meet the flat hardness of the wall behind you.

So much for fighting.

There’s nothing living in his eyes as he says it—nothing save the roiling flames of hunger: “You see those guys downstairs?”

You glare up at him, trying not to notice the alluring hook of his nose, or the way your body works against you, responding to the earthy smell of him.

Then, you nod, wordlessly.

“Did you count ‘em?” He splays a hand beside your head, using one hand to pry your arms uncrossed.

Again, you nod. “How many?” He asks, his voice deceptively soft.

“Five.” Breathless.

“S’right, sweetheart. Ever had your lil’ holes stuffed by five guys at once?”

A swallow, and your voice cracks when you’re finally able to put it to use. “No.”

He pries your elbows to your sides, pulling the beige fabric open, revealing the torn remains of your underwear.

It’s almost a croon, feigned concern underpinning his low tone. “You wanna see what it’s like?” He drinks in the sight of your bare chest, almost groaning at the sight of your naked front.

It’s not cold anymore; no, suddenly you’re very hot.

“No, please, no.”

He slips the coat off of your shoulders, letting it fall in a heap to the ground. He assesses you once more: studying every square inch of your skin under his shadowed eyes.

“M’only gonna say this once, sweetheart.” All that fake-gentleness fades from his tone, replaced by the sadistic, authoritative timbre he’d first greeted you with. “I need you to be very careful.”

You’re frozen—all that fight, it drains out of you, captivated by the raider’s looming form, his mesmerizing speech.

“You’re alone, yeah?” A nod, which he acknowledges, trailing a hand up the length of your waist. “S’what I thought. N’ the way I found you today? That’s a best-case-scenario for a girl like you, out here on your own.”

He drags a finger up the centre of your breast, skilled fingertips just barely brushing the peaked nipple. You lean into his touch—the near imperceptible arch of your back doesn’t go unnoticed, and you kick yourself internally as the corners of his lips twitch up.

Still, the raider ignores your trembling.

“You’re mine, now,” he continues, egged on by your involuntary movement. “Means you’re gonna be a good girl n’ do as I say, n’ I’ll make sure I’m the only man who touches you.” His big hand drops to his heavy silver buckle, and the clearly defined, bulging lines underneath it have your heart clawing out of your chest. Joel senses your fear—and it only makes him harder. “I don’t like sharin’ what’s mine, y’know? But you try anything—you step outta line—I’ll throw you to my guys downstairs.”

His hand finds your throat, hunger and warning beating to the same rhythm in his gaze. “I have no problem watching.” He gives your larynx a squeeze, multitasking as he pulls the strap of his belt through the worn loops of his denim. “Understood?”

You have no words left, shaking from head to toe as the reality of the situation finally settles in.

As he works the intimidating weight of his cock out of his jeans.

A huff. Joel flips you over, impatient, pressing your scraped up cheek to the cinnamon-brown of the wall.

Déjà vù.

Your knees are separated by his own, and his weight flattens you. He wastes no time: lining himself up, his tip separates your folds. Resistance is futile—with one hand, he holds your thighs open—even as they try to press themselves closed, even as you whimper at the rough, male knuckles pressed to bruise on the insides of your legs.

Leaving his mark.

It’s not an option to simply take it. Joel forces you to participate in the sinful act: “I asked you a fuckin’ question,” he growls, gripping your chin indelicately. “You understand me, girl?”

A swallow and a flinch as you feel the head of his cock poke at your entrance. “Yes. Okay. Yes.”

“Yes, Joel,” he corrects. “Use my name. You’re mine now. Use my fuckin’ name.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes at the promised savagery in his tone. Holding back a sob, you respond: “Yes, Joel.”

You watch his hand, large and capable, splaying out a mere inch away from the tip of your nose. “Good,” he commends. “Z’are the only fuckin’ words you know, from now on.”

His free hand slaps against your hip, yanking you down onto his hard length. Your hips buck up against his abdomen, responding to the pull of his fingertips, even as you cry out at the sting, the stretch. The raider tries to force himself between your walls—muttering a grunted “shit”—and thrusting up against your ass.

But you’re too tight, too tense, and your stubborn body refuses to open up for him. Finally listening to you.

“Relax,” he orders, surprisingly softly. He moves his hand from your hip to the apex of your thighs, rubbing rough circles against your clit. Fuck, how’d he find it so fast? You gasp at the feel of his fingertips against your most sensitive, touch-starved spot, hating yourself for the way his pressure makes you feel.

Because…

Because—fuck.

It feels… good. The man knows exactly what he’s doing—methodical in his ministrations, prepping you only enough to ensure his own eventual pleasure. “S’too tight, baby,” he breathes against your neck, “Need to loosen up for me, yeah?”

He’s not gentle. No part of it is gentle. Nonetheless, pleasure ripples through your centre and down your thighs as he effectively turns you on.

“Thaaaaaa’s right,” and his voice is mocking and taunting and degrading as he drags his digits away, grabbing and pulling at your breasts, instead. Feeling the involuntary release of your cunt, Joel finally pushes himself in, sheathing the long, thick length of his cock inside you.

“Need to show this pussy what it’s fuckin’ made for.”

A current of pain flutters up your cunt just as he fills it up to the brim. You can’t help it—your stoicism crumbles to dust—and a soft, scared, pained whimper tumbles from your lips.

And he groans at it, thrusting roughly, over and over again. And again. “Hurts, does it?”

His breath is hot against your ear, and despite the fear, the ancient instincts gripping your bones, telling you to run, run, run, fight, fight, fight—it’s… enticing.

Hot.

“It hurts.”

He laughs, low and dark, bringing his hands to circle your hips, steadying you as you stumble on your tip-toes.

“Cry about it.”

And he keeps on going, tearing you open. The way his girth touches every starved part of your insides leaves you wanting, even despite the sting of his fingernails biting into your hips, the tears and cuts stinging at your opening.

You hate yourself for it.

But you clench around him, stifling a pathetic moan.

God, no—I am not enjoying this.

He breathes another laugh. “Feelin’ full, baby? Tell me how good it feels, c’mon,” and your inhalations come in heaves as he pounds into you, delivering a harsh slap to the side of your hip, hard enough for your skin to ripple from the contact. “Do as I say.”

When you refuse to sate him, swallowing all of your little noises, Joel grips your throat, bringing your head slamming against his shoulder. Your back arches into a perfect crescent, spine contorting at his will. A gasped cry fans out against his salt-and-pepper jaw.

A sob—of fear, of frustration, of reluctant pleasure. “You’re evil.”

The grip on your throat tightens, and he looses another laugh, squeezing your skin, muscles, and tendons oh-so-tight.

You’d be wrecked, bruised—branded—come sunrise.

“Yeah?” He groans, cock slamming up into your very guts.

“M-mhmm—” and the saltwater tears start pouring, trailing glistening slopes down your cheeks in long, long lines. Distantly, you hear his answer—“Yeah, well, you’re wet”—as those silver droplets keep on falling. Where they come from, you aren’t certain; of course, the terror, the physical torture, and the frustration at your entrapment contribute to the mess under your eyes.

But that warmth… the unbridled desire radiating between your thighs… that wasn’t helping, either.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans, muttering another “S’it—s’right,” and releasing your throat to tilt your head up to face him. He drinks in his creation, the ruined sight of your tear-stricken face, and his cock swells between your beaten walls. “God, you look so fuckin’ pretty takin’ it from me—cryin’ like your lil’ pussy ain’t desperate for this.”

Joel smiles when you sob.

It goes on for a while. He doesn’t tire quickly, bringing you right up to the edge of reluctant ecstasy before you remind yourself of the hatred you owed the man fucking into you. You get used to the sound of his hips snapping against your skin, your cries mingling with his gravelly, low grunts. It’s a dirty, depraved symphony—orchestrated by the monster between your thighs.

You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips when he finally, finally brings his fingers back down between your legs. He grunts in approval, barely grazing the length of your folds, pressing his thumb into the delicate flesh of your thigh, instead. “Dirty lil’ girl—fuckin’ dyin’ to be an old man’s whore, z’that it?” and he doesn’t even touch you, focussed on his own pleasure, but the proximity alone is enough to have you wrecked.

And you just can’t help it: “J-joel—”

“Y’know,” he chuckles, slightly out of breath, slowing his strokes to address your wanton whine, “You’re gonna make such a good lil’ fuck-toy, baby, f’you keep makin’ those pretty lil’ noises for me.”

The reality of the situation comes barrelling down on you as he acknowledges—praises—your enjoyment of his torture.

This man… this man was cruel. He was hurting you, and enjoying it.

You struggle against him, a pathetic show of weakness. Joel holds you in place effortlessly, arching your back further, keeping your hips preened back to receive the harsh thrusts he delivers to your torn, ruined cunt. “Where you goin’?” He laughs at your pathetic attempt at resistance, grips tightening. “Thought we were havin’ fun, baby—don’t it feel good?”

And he quickens again, slamming into every needy spot inside you. His breaths grow shallow, as rough as his hands and the ferocity of this punishment.

“No,” you manage, fingernails digging into his forearm.

He tuts, the vocal click constricted with lust, and his hand travels the length of you, settling against that aching bud between your thighs. “Fuckin’ liar.”

He presses down, proving his point. Your entire body tenses as pleasure ripples through you—despite your best efforts, climax crests through your core, threatening to implode within you. Joel hums, smirking when he feels your legs parting even wider.

“S’mine now, alright? You’re mine now.” He crams every inch of his cock up inside you, pulling you flush against his chest. “S’okay to come for me—s’okay, baby, I want you to—s’fuckin’ right, let go for me, baby—” and his crooning takes you over the edge.

Christ, it feels so good.

You clench around him, high-pitched pleas and moans tumbling from your lips, his own pair dragging down the swoop of your ear. In that split second, Joel—the devil at your back—is your favourite thing in the world: your hero, your haven, your God. Fuck, you could just kiss him, marry him, fuck him over and over and over and over—

A hand clamps over your mouth during those brief, blissful moments; the man practically bounces you up and down the length of him, muffling the cries of pain and pleasure tearing from your sore throat against the rough skin of his palm. He groans inside your ear—a stammered, sinful “fuuuck”—and then he’s spilling his seed inside you, shoving it impossibly deep as those quick, harsh strokes stutter and slow.

You come to, waking up from your pleasure-drunk daze. Before you get the opportunity to wriggle away from him, the monster flips you over again, slamming your shoulders to the wall. With his forearm barring your chest, and despite your fear and ire—somehow, all you can think about is the fact that he’s not as out of breath as he really should be (given his age and, of course, what he’d just done to you).

Joel leaks out of you. His cum paints masterpieces down your legs.

He slides his free hand down the length of his cock, collecting the last bits of slick clinging to him and not dripping out of you. The intermingling juices are brought to the roundness of your breasts—the raider slathers your sore peaks with his own spend.

“Nobody’s gonna fuck with you—but that means you’re Joel’s girl. Hear me?” With your head bowed, you glare up at him through silver-lined spider lashes, shame beating at your cheeks. When you hum your acknowledging “uh-huh,” the stranger continues on, gripping your jaw to angle your gaze up: “Means you listen—you-you don’t fuckin’ try me—n’ you take everything I give you, every fuckin’ time. Understand?” He tucks his softening length back in his pants, dark eyes dancing with satisfaction as he leers at your destroyed form.

When you don’t respond, he brings the back of his punishing hand colliding with the side of your face.

Something between a squeal and a gasp tumbles from your lips; Joel catches it, placing the pad of his thumb to your bottom lip, pressing down. Your cheek stings from his harsh slap, delivered on top of the scrapes and wounds a different cruel man had left upon your skin.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, baby, but I will f’I have to,” and he’s earnest, commanding and pleading at once. “You gotta answer me.”

Slowly, you croak out a timid, “Yes,” and an “I understand,” followed by a final “Joel.”

Nodding, he straightens, the violence in his gaze fading just minutely. When he lets go, you stagger—the raider senses the instability of your knees, reflexively snaking a steadying arm around your waist.

You’re not sure where the impulse comes from. Perhaps it’s exhaustion, the aftermath of your orgasm, or maybe it’s just a sick, twisted desire to sink into something beyond your body—either way, you respond to Joel’s support by throwing your arms around his neck.

And he responds by lifting you, walking you over to the bed, and tossing you down on the sheets. Awakening into reality, you scamper back, grabbing and yanking at the surrounding bedding in a desperate attempt to cover yourself.

But Joel pays you no mind.

Having had his way, he’s through with you—for now. Nonchalantly, apathetically, he runs a hand through his hair, tracing heavy steps towards the door.

“Lock the door when I leave,” he instructs, but his tone is soft… possessive and commanding, yes, but… caring. “Don’t open it for anyone but me.”

He waits for your show of understanding, your near imperceptible nod.

Then, he sighs, yanking on the handle and giving you his final address over a pair of creaky, squeaky, rusted hinges. “Try to sleep, sweetheart—got a long night ahead of you.” Chuckling to himself, he leaves the sanctuary of the room.

All you can hear as your body grows heavy and warm, travelling somewhere far, far beyond this violent world are the echoes of male laughter down the hall, and a familiar, satisfied, gravelly voice:

“Not worth much, now. Might just fuckin’ keep her.”

And you slip away, dreaming of belt buckles, blood-stained collars, and the lung-squeezing heat of the setting Texan sun.

—

He used to call me DN

That stood for deadly nightshade

'Cause I was filled with poison

But blessed with beauty and rage

Jim told me that

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

Jim brought me back

Reminding me of when we were kids

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

He used to call me poison

Like I was poison ivy

I could've died right then

'Cause he was right beside me

Jim raised me up

He hurt me but it felt like true love

Jim taught me that

Loving him was never enough

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

We can go back to New York

Loving you was really hard

We could go back to Woodstock

Where they don't know who we are

Heaven is on earth

I would do anything for you, babe

Blessed is this union

Crying tears of gold, like lemonade

I love you the first time

I love you the last time

Yo soy la princesa, comprende mis white lines

'Cause I'm your jazz singer

And you're my cult leader

I love you forever

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

—

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astrobolical · 6 months

Text

To make you forget, if only for a while

How the kings (Satan, Mammon, Leviathan, Beelzebub) alleviate your fears and worries, at least for a little while— as best they can, and in their own unique ways.

I love the utter filth that comes from this game, but sometimes a little fluff is welcome, too. If this does okay, I may see about doing some of the other devils as well.

Also yes, I do fully believe that there’s no way Leviathan doesn’t have a larger source of water in his home— his bathtub just being his favourite— it’s not as though he’s going out to find any.

Oh, and I went with “Bell” as Beelzebub’s nickname, as it’s what Mammon calls him in Chapter 3.

Content Warnings: Mildly Suggestive (Mostly Beelzebub), devil behaviours, brief mentions of alcohol, brief & mild mentions of depression, (lightly described) anxiety

Reader: Gender Neutral

Your voice had fallen silent, trailing behind the trio in front of you— and Satan cursed himself as he came to realize far too slowly that you’d withdrawn. His steps slowed, turning his head to see just what had garnered your attention… but was left with a foul taste in his mouth as he discerned what exactly it was. Your eyes were gazing down a street visible from where you were, seeing the frantic devils working tirelessly to restore or save their homes and businesses. Fires were being quelled, devils saved from rubble— trying their best to survive. Satan knew, however, that you weren’t simply watching, he could see how your eyes watered, bordering on tears, as you walked helplessly along.

In your racing mind Satan knew that you were blaming yourself entirely, allowing yourself to wallow and drown in the guilt that had begun to eat away. The look in your solemn eyes told him everything— it was a darkness he was all too familiar with, one that gripped him often, one that was difficult to escape from, especially alone. He wanted to stop, to tell you that none of this was your burden to bear, that not a single citizen of Gehenna would ever blame you. You hadn’t asked for any of this, hadn’t wished for an angel and Satan himself to whisk you away into chaos.

Yet all the same he knew those doubts and worries would not be easily assuaged, that your mind would inevitably take his words and discard them as if they were worth nothing. No matter how sincere they may be.

No, Satan knew that words were simply not enough, not for this— not for the gravity of the weight you felt on your shoulders as you looked out into the destruction and havoc. Instead, he decided, quite quickly, on another course of action that always helped him when he needed it the most.

His pace halted entirely, not having to wait long before you bumped carelessly into his back, not realizing he’d come to a full stop in your stupor.

“Satan?” You questioned, breaking free from whatever thoughts had held you. “Did something happen?” You glanced towards Sitri, as if trying to see if he’d heard someone approaching, or trouble nearby, but he shook his head.

“No,” He placed his hand atop your head, smoothing your hair out gently. “Nothing’s changed… I just think we need a break.”

You pouted, studying his eyes and expression. “A break? I’m fine…” You lied through your teeth— he’d already learned your little human quirks, at least partially.

Your protests, however, went unlistened to, and you were given no more time to voice your concerns. Satan pulled you close, holding you around your waist as he had so many times before and started down an unfamiliar alleyway. Not once did he look back to ensure your companions were following, knowing that they, too, completely understood the situation— you however, felt lost.

He led you, primarily, through the alleys and side streets you hadn’t yet seen, keeping away from the carnage you’d been surrounded by. His pace was quick, determined, keeping you against him as he trekked. You couldn’t quite grasp the sudden change of plans and direction, but your trust in Satan allowed you to relax and follow him as best you could (though you were sure without his arm around you, you’d have stumbled multiple times already). You knew that Satan would never harm you, not intentionally.

And, as expected, your intuition was correct and your trust well placed. There was not a single sign of danger where you now found yourself. In fact, it appeared more like a safe haven, mostly left untouched by the chaos that the angels had wreaked upon Gehenna.

It reminded you of the bar that you’d stopped in to rest before, though even more lively. It was larger, decorated with more lavish designs and furniture. Within were dozens of devils, relaxing and laughing with one another— and each and every one rejoiced when their king came through the door. Shouts and hollers, an energetic flurry of motion as they led your ragtag group further into the depths of the building. Not once did Satan release his hold on you.

It warmed your heart to see how joyous his people were just to see him. Though, it alarmed you quite readily when their joy, energy, and questions were also turned towards you. They offered everyone drinks, began to loudly tell you all manner of stories from their lives here in Hell. It as a flurry of motion, of attention and an infectiously rambunctious attitude— a wonderful and welcome feeling, compared to the ghastly reminders just outside.

Satan and Sitri — and even Ppyong— joined in on the revelry, encouraging the energies around them and rallying the morale. Unlike the last visit to a bar that you’d had, this time it was simply for fun and leisure. Satan kept you steady on his lap throughout the whole affair, hand idly massaging your sides or your thigh. You could feel his gaze on you every now and then, though each time you glanced back you were met with a shockingly gentle smile, and encouragement to pay more attention to his people.

He kept any grabby hands at bay, and a few were sent flying with a well-placed kick upon their weaker frames— though this did little to quell them, if anything it had only added to their adoration. Though you noted that with each attempt to get just a little too close to you, his hold would grow a little tighter, he’d pull you more fully into his lap and against him with a snarl.

You hadn’t laughed as much as you did then in what felt like your entire life— hadn’t met so many new faces, or heard such crazy tales, each one more absurd than the last. You leaned back into Satan, nestling yourself close to his warmth and comfort. When he turned to glance your way you stole a kiss from his parted lips— choosing to ignore the whoops and calls of the others in the room— and caught him off guard.

His eyes were wide as you leaned towards his ear. “Thank you,” You murmured, so quiet you were sure that only he (and perhaps Sitri) could hear. “For bringing me here, Satan.” You knew how much he cared for the denizens of Gehenna, how much he treasured and valued each and every one of them. And you’d realized that’s exactly why he’d brought you to such a place, at such a dire time.

In your moment of heartbreak and darkness, he’d brought you to them. To a place you were sure he’d probably often escaped to himself when his mind spiraled and he couldn’t quell it alone. He was showing you that these devils could be your safe space as well, your light out of the darkness that plagued your heart.

His people were his respite, and now they were yours as well.

This king of Hell had done so much for you, in such a short time… saved you more times than you cared to count— so you allowed yourself to enjoy his, and his people’s, company well into the night. Until the drinks finally slowed, and he’d ushered you to a place to rest on the upper floor. It was then that he returned the kiss you’d stolen earlier, with fervour, as if imploring you to realize that you were never alone in this.

He was alarmed— his gut telling him something was amiss, even if he wasn’t quite sure what it may be. Mammon knew only that it had to do with that faraway look within your eyes, almost as if you were looking through the brilliant gold around you rather than at it— it was not admiration, not his coveted greed, it was nothing. Mammon couldn’t understand why you weren’t pleased with your surroundings, or what all you may be thinking… just that he didn’t like it.

He wanted you to look around and desire it, to want the world despite knowing that it was already yours, as he was. He loved to see your eyes alight with a fiery passion, your heart just as full… but somehow you had fallen far, right under his nose. A human folly, he was certain, and not one he had ever encountered. Yet this? This he did not want, he did not covet this new experience, this new emotion. He wanted to be rid of it.

Mammon lifted you with ease, and without warning, breaking your senseless focus immediately, drawing you towards him effortlessly. You clung to him in surprise, steadying yourself though you knew that to Mammon you weighed nothing— he’d proven that already. You wound your arms around his neck, legs finding purchase on his hips, exclaiming his name in your surprise. His strength always amazed you— then again, he was simply amazing overall.

His silence continued as he pressed a warm kiss against your forehead, holding you close with one arm, while pulling your head closer with the other before it settled on your cheek. Your face flushed pink, dumbfounded at the gentle touches he’d graced you with.

His deep voice rumbled as he spoke, and pressed against him as you were you couldn’t help but shiver at the feeling of the vibrations. “What is bothering you, MC?” He questioned, eyes that looked like molten gold peering into yours with concern.

You stared back, silent, unsure how to answer— or if you even should. You worried your lower lip with your teeth as you pondered, not missing the way his eyes flicked downwards at the motion, how he held you a little more tightly. “Nothing,” you finally relented, though accompanied by a forced smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes. “I’m alright.”

Mammon did not know doubt, or lies— you knew that your words alone would calm him, come as a reassurance that there was nothing to worry over. And you told yourself that you would do better to keep your worries hidden. A white lie, you decided, was the better way to go.

Even if the weight of all the events thus far was pressing down around you, exerting more pressure with each new battle you found yourself surrounded by.

Yet, despite your reassurance, Mammon’s brows furrowed, and he shook his head. “…While I do not know—or even understand— doubt, MC, I know that there is something wrong. I just know.”

He looked pained as his eyes bore into yours, unyielding as he studied your expressions. His grip became a little tighter as he sighed. “Can you not trust me?”

The question made your breath hitch, and you shook your head rapidly. “I trust you!” You reassured, your heart wrenching at his assumption. Of course you trusted Mammon— with everything in you, you did. You just didn’t want to burden him with your worries, your fears, and your guilt. You’d buried it so deeply within you throughout your journey that you’d thought that maybe you’d somehow escaped it… but it had consumed you the moment you’d finally attempted to rest, comforted by the massive devil’s presence. “I do. It’s just… it’s nothing, really. I’m just worrying over everything that’s happening here in Hell— if Satan hadn't saved me…”

His eyes widened, and his forehead bunted against your own. “Never think that way, MC. Nothing here is your fault— and there is no devil in Hell that thinks that it is.”

“Everyone is ecstatic that you’re here— even more than when they see me!” He continued, placing slow, soft kisses on your face between each breath.

You knew he was right, deep down. That if it hadn’t been you, another descendent of Solomon could have just as easily ignited it all. It wasn’t your burden to bear, just as much as it wasn’t Mammon’s. Whatever happened to God — the event that had earned the angel’s ire— was still a mystery.

You sighed, your eyes glossy as you looked up at him once more. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

“No need for apologies.” He straightened again, adjusting his grip on your bottom. “Just tell me when these thoughts plague you, and I will reassure you of every worry— I am yours, after all. You have me at your side to deal with whatever you feel you can’t. You are the only being to ever have this, the only one I’ll ever give it to.”

He grinned, sharp canines glinting in the light that shone into the room from the elegant (yet gaudy) golden windows, and you couldn’t help but smile— genuinely, this time. “Thanks, Mammon. I’ll keep that in mind.” It was strange, you thought, that he could so easily clear your mind with his promises alone… but when you looked at him, it also wasn’t hard to see why. He was powerful, confident— and he so proudly declared himself yours it was difficult to not believe him, to rely on him. “Aren’t you getting tired of holding me up, though?”

Your attempt to change the subject earned you a hearty laugh, that shook you in his arms. “Never!” As if taking your words as a challenge he tossed you upwards before catching you just as effortlessly, before securing you once again against him. “And if you don’t believe me, I’ll parade you around Tartaros to prove it.”

“Please, don’t!” You laughed, though you could see that he was absolutely considering his own words. “Mammon!”

“It would do you well to go out— and you can still rest as long as you’re in my arms.” You hit his chest, grumbling about how impossible he was— but there was little you could do to stop him from walking out the door, with you still held close. Though, despite your protests, you really didn’t mind— Mammon was right, seeing the devils of Tartaros going about their daily lives, seeing their smiling faces as they saw their king, and you… it really would do you good.

And, though you didn’t give him the pleasure of telling him, being held by Mammon was the safest place you felt you could be. Untouchable, secure, and comforted by his warmth.

Even if it was still a bit embarrassing.

Your mind was elsewhere, lost deep within unwanted thoughts that forced their way through despite any efforts to hinder them. Leviathan, in a way, couldn’t fault you for it— you were only human, and your entire world had been upturned and threatened. But Leviathan himself was at your side, seated just an arms length away— could you not even consider him a worthy distraction? Surely his presence alone should earn your gaze, at least? Yet your eyes were staring at the floor, your brows furrowed.

It irked him, stirring feelings in his heart that made his eyes narrow and fists clench— especially when he wondered just what it was you would finally use to alleviate whatever thoughts you were unable to escape. Whoever, or whatever, it may have been, even if imaginary, made envy seep through him.

Had he not proven he would go to great lengths for you already, without question? He’d even gone outside of the sanctity of his home for you, protected you from angels at the cost of his own wellbeing.

He sucked in a breath, steadying himself from whatever spiral he himself had nearly fallen into— now was not the time, not when he could simply take your attention for himself and eliminate the threats from the equation altogether. Motioning with lithe fingers, ropes quickly fell from the inky darkness of the ceiling above, entangling you despite your surprised protest. At least you’d called his name in your alarm.

The ropes dragged you closer to him— surprisingly gentle— and you wondered what his plan was, recalling just how pleasurable it could be to be bound before this devil king. Yet only your jaw was slowly traced by a singular long finger, no further touches gracing your skin. Instead his pale eyes met yours, contemplative. He did not seem exceptionally angry or upset, in fact he appeared oddly calm for having called on his favoured ability.

And then he stood, sighing, leaving you where you were. “Come, then.” He spoke, a chill running through your spine— from suspense or anticipation, you weren’t sure. Yet despite ordering you to follow, he hadn’t intended to give you a choice to begin with, the strong ropes moving you for him, just behind (but so, so careful not to damage your frail, human skin).

He spoke nothing of where he was taking you, barely acknowledging that you were with him at all. At times his intense gaze met yours, as if checking on your wellbeing — though you surmised it was to ensure your attention was on him, as he wanted.

Any complaints you had, though, died on your tongue the moment he opened large double doors with a wave of his hand, and you were greeted with a marvelous sight that you couldn’t quite comprehend.

Within it was not quite the same castle-like structures you’d come to know, it was somehow more cavernous while still retaining its elegance. In the center was a pool, of sorts, though if you were to describe it properly it was more akin to a man-made (devil-made?) lake within the confines of Leviathan’s estate. The water’s surface was reflecting all across the walls and every item it could reach, creating a beautiful, moving pattern that was hard to tear your eyes away from.

You wondered if you should really feel as surprised as you do, that he had such a place tucked away, being as fond of water as Leviathan was.

“Very few have been here, Child of Solomon. I don’t allow it.” He spoke bluntly, those agile fingers motioning for your freedom (and oh, you knew what else those hands could do). “But,” He continued, turning to face you. “It appears you need something to distract you. Come.”

His hand extended towards you, waiting impatiently for you to take it, and despite your surprise and tentativeness you did just that. He led you towards the waters, still fully clothed and unperturbed. “Wait— shouldn’t I get a bathing suit, or something?”

He stopped, a quizzical look upon his beautiful features. “If you must worry about your clothes, just remove them.” As if assuming you would do just that he released your hand as quickly as he’d taken it, stepping into the water without waiting any longer for you to decide.

It wasn’t hard to see he belonged there, his pale skin practically glowing in an ethereal light. Soon enough he vanished into the depths, only to resurface a ways away, floating lazily despite the weight of his clothing.

Hastily you joined him, donning only your undergarments (not quite as confident within such deep waters while being weighed down). Yet when his hands were on you you knew that even if you even began to sink towards the bottom, he’d keep you afloat with ease. “You’re only the second outside of myself I’ve allowed in here.”

“…Why?” You murmured, enjoying the feel of the small, cool waves on your skin.

“Because it’s mine.” A simple answer, blunt as always. “But … so are you. So I don’t mind you being here, as long as your attention is on me, MC.”

Your heart felt warm as you realized how much you meant to him— that he would break his own comforts for your own, in a way. Even if it was borne from wanting your attention only on him and nothing else. “Sorry, Leviathan,” You murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek, which met with a strong hand pulling you closer to him. “For being so distracted before. Thank you for showing me this.”

He hummed in response, more taken with your body in his arms than with your gratitude— though you could very easily see he enjoyed it.

He’d succeeded in claiming your attention, keeping it upon himself with ease now that you were reminded that not everything in your situation was a bad thing. That you had devils like Leviathan at your side, and that they would do anything to assist you. Leviathan, who so rarely let others in but who opened himself to you without thought or hesitance.

Even if Leviathan’s needy hands barely gave you a moment’s rest, itching for your touch at every turn. You’d give him everything he wanted— how could you deny him, after all?

The room felt as though it was nearly split down the center as Beelzebub glanced around— on one side was the chatter and planning, a tense atmosphere of grumbling devils attempting to decide what to do… on the other, was you. Around you was quiet, abnormally so— the devils had let you be, he supposed it was to give you time to breathe and catch up with everything that had transpired.

Yet to Beelzebub, you simply looked pitiful, too sad for his liking. Your eyes were staring blankly out the window, sitting idly and unmoving on the sill. Yet you weren’t really looking at anything, your eyes barely moving even when there was an outburst on the other side of the room, or a bird flew by your window.

Clearly, despite what the others may think, you didn’t need time to yourself to breathe. In fact, it seemed as though leaving you to your own devices was only making things worse in that little human mind of yours. And, being who he is, Beelzebub was more than willing to bend the rules and expectations just to make you smile again.

He could sense Bael’s cautious yet curious gaze on his back— unwilling to believe that his king would simply sit idly. And he wasn’t wrong, really. Yet Beelzebub didn’t do anything immediately, instead standing and making his way over towards you rather languidly, lazily as though he just wanted to banter with you—despite being told to leave you be.

You didn’t react to his approach, or even seem to hear his intentionally loud footsteps, utterly lost in whatever thoughts were plaguing you. If this were another time, or he were any other devil, it may have been concerning how unaware you were of your surroundings in an unfamiliar environment— even if it was safe.

However, he was not another devil, and was still Beelzebub. He looked at this, instead, like an opportunity he simply couldn’t let go of and let pass by. In one swift motion you were hoisted upwards, a garbled noise of surprise escaping you as you were thrown over a strong shoulder. His hand kept you steady, lying comfortably on your lower back (if a little lower than necessary). Instinctively you reached out to grip anything you could to ground yourself, hands clinging to whatever you could reach on him. You knew that no matter how irresponsible Beelzebub may be, he would never drop you, but it was still difficult to settle when you’re quite literally thrown like a sack of potatoes.

“Let’s go out and play, MC.” His voice was a purr, adjusting you quickly before the others could react and taking off out the door with a surprising burst of speed— you hadn’t even known he could move that quickly!

There was chaos behind you near immediately, and you could see the others— particularly Bael— preparing to stop their quick-footed king from escaping, especially with you in tow. However, as much as the efforts were doubled by your presence, they were also incredibly hindered, not wanting to harm you in any way while attempting to stop the ever-troublesome man.

“Bell!” You protested, though he could hear your insincerity within your voice, a bubble of laughter escaping you at the audacity of the unanticipated situation you’d found yourself in. “Where are we even going?!”

The gloom that had surrounded you already began to crumble, and he laughed as he replied. “Somewhere fun!” He didn’t elaborate, however, as he dealt with the devils in his way, deftly outmaneuvering them.

Looking back once more, you couldn’t help but pity Bael, seeing now what it was he dealt with, but at the same time you were thankful for Beelzebub and his free spirited nature. You’d forgotten that, though the situation was incredibly serious, you were still allowed to have fun.

Almost as quickly as it had begun, the chaos came to a close, Beelzebub successful in his escape, and you now safely hugged within his arms after he’d set your feet back down securely to the ground. His grin was positively infectious as you took a step back from him, and you had to stifle your laughter. “There!” He exclaimed, fixing your hair idly as he spoke. “Now, let’s find someplace fun to waste some time in. Let’s let loose, MC.”

Grasping your hand he pulled you along through the streets, searching out a familiar haunt that would be filling in with devils soon. He didn’t pay mind to the confused looks he got along the way, loudly talking with you all the while. He didn’t let you rest until you’d arrived at wherever it was that he’d thought of.

The rooms were dimly lit, but there was a well-stocked bar at the far end of the largest one, the music blaring from speakers already despite guests just beginning to filter in. It wasn’t terribly large, more quaint than you’d expected for Beelzebub, but it was clear he was a common sight there, as no one batted an eye in his direction as he led you further in.

You clung to him as the crowd steadily grew, unwilling to be parted from your guide— and it wasn’t as though you disliked touching Beelzebub, either. There were certainly no complaints from him, either, as his hands groped and prodded your body in return. It wasn’t long before he led you to the dance floor, where his hands explored more boldly, front pressed against your back as you swayed to the music.

You knew it didn’t matter if you were any good at dancing, Beelzebub simply wanted you to lose yourself to the music, and more importantly with him.

It wasn’t difficult to persuade you, letting his body guide your movements, losing yourself to his touch and the vibrations in your body from the sounds around you and the mesmerizing lights.

You could hear his praises when his hot breath ghosted by the shell of your ear, sharp teeth toying with the cartilage. His lips finding your neck, his hands dipping lower— it was so easy to lose yourself with Beelzebub, that your worries melted away. Not even the inevitable repercussions that were to come from your escape could bother you.

You were thankful for how carefree the king who held you was, that he’d decided to encourage it within you, too.

Though you weren’t sure how long you were among those on the dance floor before Beelzebub inevitably led you towards the dark bathroom, your bodies barely parted for a moment. You locked the door behind the two of you, opting to lose yourself to him in another way, even if someone heard you.

#what in hell is bad #whb #prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#whb Satan #whb leviathan #whb mammon #whb beelzebub #whb Satan x reader #whb leviathan x reader #whb mammon x reader #whb Beelzebub x reader #whb x reader #what in hell is bad x reader #~take time to relax #the brain rot is so real #is it bad I want to write for Gabriel?

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yandere-romanticaa · 7 months

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🍂 tear you apart.

❝ i want to hold you close, soft breasts, beating heart. as i whisper in your ear - i want to fucking tear you apart. ❞

yandere! various! ghostface! characters x gn! reader.

inspired by the song "tear you apart" by she wants revenge.

just a compilation of characters that i think would be interesting for this. happy friday the 13th!

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 ! (genshin impact.)

After years of training and endless carnage, it's only natural for a person to develop specific tastes for the darker aspects of life. Battle and blood were Childe's bread and butter but due to his friendly and frankly charming exterior no one could tell that the young man was a ruthless killer.

Provided that he hides his Harbinger status that is.

There were times when his status was a hastle but there were always some perks, always some string for him to pull and make everything go in the way he wanted them to go. Sometimes, that would include people.

But now, that included you.

Upon first meeting him there was an addictive and boyish charm to the ginger haired man and he had you completely wrapped around his fingers. His pockets were deep but so was his heart and frankly, how dare you just steal it? How dare you be so careless? Don't get him wrong, he wasn't mad per say but he still wanted to teach you a lesson or two, just to make it all stick to your feeble little mind.

He started with your neighbors first.

Childe watches comfortably from high above, hidden away in a tea shop as natives of Liyue Harbor scamper back to their homes as darkness nears. A serial killer is on the loose and the shop owner in which Childe was in had no idea that he just served the man responsible for the deaths of 3 different families. He sipped his tea with content, his heart pounding with excitement. The blade in his pocket was itching for its next victim but he had to be patient.

Patience was a virtue after all.

And once he was done, he was going to claim his prize.

In the meantime, he was going to be nothing less than a sweet and doting friend who was just worried for you. It was only a matter of time when you would fall into his greedy hands and you didn't even know it.

𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐆𝐎𝐋 ! (bungo stray dogs.)

Meeting him was not by choice but you were bound by fate, or so the clown liked to tease.

He stopped you on the street in order to show you a card trick. It was simple but it did the job, he impressed you even if just barely. You'd sigh and turn your head but Nikolai did not fail to see the blush on your cheeks.

He was a man on a mission. Why not indulge himself, just for a little bit?

The public always was fond of a good show and why not give them one in the form of a crazy mass murderer? Donning on a mask and a long black cape his escapade began, his ability was so useful for this.

However, you were always his favorite target.

It started out small, at first. He would use his ability to touch you and to steal your things, particularly if he knew you were alone at home. Seeing that confused expression on your face became a past time of his. His fingers would brush against your cheeks, his touch barely there, like a wandering phantom. Sometimes he would be bolder and press his hand gently against your ribs, maybe even be cheeky and smack your behind ever so playfully.

After a few weeks of this song and dance, watching wasn't enough.

You answered his first call, which pleased him greatly. He gave you impossible riddles and forced you to answer humiliating and degrading questions, all under the threat that he was in your house and was going to kill you lest you complied.

Of course, he had no intentions of doing that. Perhaps he would one day. But for now, he would continue to paint the streets crimson with blood and make you squirm in your seat.

It became his reason for living.

𝐊𝐀𝐅𝐊𝐀 & 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 ! (honkai star rail.)

Ah, these two psychos. Where do I start?

Their plans are at first glance, all over the place. Attacks are random and they do not necessarily always go for the big fish too. Sometimes it's a poor street vendor who was just doing their job but his life meant nothing in the end.

Kafka was the main mastermind. Blade was the one who did most of the dirty work.

Her plans were meticulous, deadly. She would come crawling to you from the shadows, her jacket draped over your shoulders as she'd coo into your ear, her face bloody from her latest victim as she toyed with her mask, a carefree smile on her face. You couldn't see him but Blade was also behind you, his presence was impossible to miss. He was large and imposing, like a phantom that couldn't find peace.

Could you perhaps give him something that he couldn't have? If he can't have you in life, can he have you in death?

There was no escaping them, never ever. Dare to try and there would be consequences.

They were so in love with you to the point of madness. The question was - were they going to keep you alive and leashed or were they just that insane to stab you in the heart?

If they can't have you, no one can.

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 ! (Moriarty the Patriot.)

The streets of London are filled to the brim with gossip and paranoia as the Lord of Crime made his move the previous evening, slaughtering yet another poor noble in his family home. The papers reported that his own children found the corpse, the poor little things.

You hurried to show William the morning paper, morbidly curious about his opinion on this.

Said man could be found lounging about in a cushy, plush red love seat, a hot cup of tea served in front of him by none other than his brother. The two were lost in their own chatter until you abruptly stopped them. Like a sudden storm you pounced on William, his red eyes widening in shock as he tried to calm you down with a sweet smile on his face. You bombarded him with endless questions - who could do something like this, why was it this messy, was the killer sending a message? - all of it came out at such lightning speed that William didn't really understand half of what you said.

It was wrong to corner him like this and let out your frustrations on the man this early in the morning. You knew every single person that died in these past few weeks, all of which were either minor annoyances or massive obstacles in your day to day life.

When it came down to it, their only connection was with you.

Was the police going to come knocking at your door? It was possible! You had no involvement with the crimes but it was incredibly suspicious how everything was connected, like a spiderweb that was being crafted day by day.

It was difficult for William to keep his smirk concealed that morning.

Hours had passed since that interaction and he was back at it, his new victim. He incorporated the fact that you were most likely going to be incriminated in this scheme but it was still in his best interest. It was not difficult to tamper with evidence and blackmail people if need be and best of all, you would always come running to him, scared and worried, for both yourself and the people around you. It was beyond precious how you tell him to not go after sun down, how you made sure to check to see if he was injured or ill.

If you kept doting him like this, he might just slit the throat of every single person that steps foot into London.

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dollfacefantasy · 6 days

Text

From the Day You Arrived

pairing: suguru geto x fem!reader

summary: the night in the village was the first time suguru saw you. you'd haunted him ever since. when he meets you again, he's not going to let you slip away. you will be his.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dub-con, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, spanking, manipulation, pet names (pet, puppy, pup), reader put in a collar, yandere-ish behavior (obsession/controlling), breeding kink

word count: 5.4k

a/n: birthday present for @kaitkatme. one of the sweetest people in the whole world, someone i love so so much. she makes me happy every day. i'm so lucky to call her my friend <3

It was that night in the village. With the 112 people. With the fire. That was the night he first saw you.

You’d been caught amongst the carnage of that night. You should have been just another face in the slaughter, another light he’d snuff out. But when he came across you in the midst of everything, he froze. Two sets of eyes gazing into one another, completely still as everything surrounding continued in disarray.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. He didn’t know if it was the terror in your stare, the horror in the downward curve of your lips. You made him freeze though. Long enough for you to dart out the back door and run as fast as your limbs could carry you.

The smallest moment in time. One he thought would be the only minute shared between the two of you.

That was until he saw you all those years later.

You’d changed but so had he. Both of you sported new styles of clothing, different hairdos, your faces had aged. When your eyes locked in the middle of that busy street though, it was like the two of you morphed into yourselves from all those years ago and nothing had changed. He couldn’t explain the connection. All he knew was that he wouldn’t let it slip away this time.

He went over to you, introduced himself, and this time, it was you who froze. Instantly, it was obvious you recognized him. He thought seeing the man who massacred everyone you’d known would’ve sent you running, just like you had on that night. But you didn’t move a muscle. As if your legs were locked in place, you didn’t move an inch upon hearing his voice. You ended up responding, and finally, he learned the name of the girl who’d walked through both his dreams and nightmares for years on end. In that moment, he wondered if he’d meant the same to you.

He took your hand and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. The gesture caught you off guard. He reveled in the slight widening of your eyes. It was obvious you didn’t think him capable of such tenderness. He knew with little effort, you’d be his.

You were still a non-sorcerer, but that was part of what had him captivated. He couldn’t understand how he managed to become so enamored with someone he considered to be objectively beneath him. It was something that haunted him, something he had to find out the cause of. All he knew was that you weren’t going to get away this time.

He lured you back to his place with promises of an explanation, answering the questions that had plagued you all this time. Only when you got there, it was you doing the majority of the talking. He discovered that in contrast to himself, your life had fallen apart after that night. It spiraled so far out of control, you had no hope left for wrangling it back. He supposed it made sense. Losing your entire family and all of your friends would do that to a person. He listened with a sympathetic ear, fingers sweeping down your jaw soothingly as his eyes grew soft with feigned concern.

“Oh, little one,” he cooed, “How could I ever begin to make it up to you?”

As if he had anything to make up for. If anything, this arrangement he had in mind would be you making it up to him for making him question so much. An apology for bothering him with your mere existence.

You were resistant at first. You’d seen first hand the kind of violence this man was capable of. You turned down his offers, made up excuses about why you should be leaving now. He wouldn’t have it though.

“I don’t think you understand,” he’d told you, rising to his feet, “You’re special. You were meant for more than what’s been given to you, more than what you had in that village and more than what you have now.”

You watched him with widening eyes, uncertain of his point. You knew you should’ve been reacting with more intensity, kicking, screaming, hitting, crying, anything. But it was as if something possessed you to stay. To listen.

“There’s a reason you made it out of that night when no one else did. Something stopped me when I saw you. And something brought us back together. I’m not even sure what it is myself, but that’s why you’re going to stay here,” he said, “I’m not letting you slip away again.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a statement of fact. You still shook your head in protest, but he nodded right back at you.

“Tell me honestly, what do you have to go back to?” he asked, “You feel it too. I know you do. You think you’re supposed to hate me, right? But you don’t.”

“You took everything from me,” you protested weakly.

He chuckled at first but kept his eyes serious and locked on you. “Sure I did. But that was a long time ago and not the point. The point is that you’re sitting here like a good girl and listening because deep down, you also want to know what this thing is that connects us. You don’t want to leave. You could’ve tried running by now. You wouldn’t get far, but you could have tried. You haven’t though because you want this just the same as I do.”

“No I don’t,” you said, your tone still not matching the firm nature of your words.

“That’s just too bad because you’re staying here regardless,” he’d told you with a shrug, “Like I said, you can try to run, but I’ll have you back here in the blink of an eye.”

You contemplated trying to get away at first, but as your eyes scanned the room, many factors became clear to you that would be detrimental to your escape. First, you didn't know this place well. Second, you clearly weren’t alone. You could hear other people just outside the room, and you were sure they’d follow Suguru’s word over yours without even a second thought. Also, you could still vividly remember how he treated your people from the village, and you didn’t want to invite a recreation.

Reluctantly, you accept staying with him, and as a reward, he didn’t make you wear restraints.

***

Your new life actually wasn't horrible. The other people who hung around Suguru’s place weren’t all that bad and could be nice to you sometimes. He kept a close eye on you to make sure you didn’t sneak off or get too close to anyone else, but from what he could tell you didn’t. You spent most of your time around him although he did allow you your own room to sleep in.

Unexpected to you, however, was that you actually didn’t mind spending time with him too much. It wasn’t like he was your best friend, but you didn’t despair being around him. You were pretty quiet for the most part, but he worked to figure you out anyways.

In a way, you compartmentalized him into two. After nearly a year with him, there were two Sugurus in your mind. There was the version of him from years ago who’d destroyed everything you’d ever known, and there was the current version that petted your head and spoke to you as if you were the most exquisite flower just beginning to bloom.

You knew you should hate him. The man ruined your life, and you followed him around and slept under his roof. This was disgraceful, wasn’t it? The lack of fight you put up was embarrassing.

Thoughts like those bothered you daily. The second you’d find yourself smiling at him or engaging him in a conversation on your own freewill, shame took you over. Those feelings led to your first and only attempt at escape.

You tried it when you thought he was busy. Slipping out through the backdoor, you ran away just like you had when you first met. You didn’t know where you were going, but this was what you were supposed to do. This is what anyone would expect of someone in your situation.

But he held true to his promise. You were back within the hour.

You weren’t sure how he knew, if he sensed it, if someone saw you and told him, if you’d tripped some sort of alarm. He followed you though and retrieved you with no effort.

You returned to the place you’d been staying for the last several months. You didn’t even know what to call it. His compound? Sometimes it felt more like his palace. Whatever it was, you were back, and he was pissed. Angrier than you’d ever seen him. That night in the village, he didn’t look angry. He went about his slaughter as if it was just something he had to do. But right now, sitting in the bedroom he’d given you, he looked at you with fire in his eyes.

“What do you think you were doing?” he asks, his voice ice cold.

You look up at him like a puppy who’d been caught breaking a rule. “I wanted to leave. You never told me I could never leave…” you argue.

“Then why did you sneak out the back?” he asks. Upon receiving no response from you, he continues, “Because you knew you weren’t supposed to.”

“I’m not supposed to be here!” you say with the most force he’d heard from you, “We’re not connected or whatever. You took away my whole life. I can’t just forget that.”

He glares at you. “Come here,” he says simply.

The words chill you to your bones. You walk over to him and stand between his thighs. He grabs your chin and makes you look at him. “I never asked you to forget what happened, did I? No. I didn’t. I’ve never said I’m sorry because I’m not. What I did brought you to me.”

He pulls you face down over his lap and continues with his speech. “You are supposed to be here. I am supposed to have you whether you understand that or not. Your place is here. You belong to me,” he says.

With that, he brings his palm down hard against your ass. You yelp with surprise. It was almost comical, your punishment being a simple spanking from a man capable of mass murder.

“Hush. I don’t want to hear it. I’m growing tired of your resistant act because that’s all it is. An act,” he says, pushing up your skirt and raining down lashes on your uncovered cheeks.

“It’s not. I hate you for what you did,” you whimper.

“No. You hate what I did, but you don’t hate me,” he says.

You don’t respond to that one. It was probably the truth, but you wouldn’t admit that so easily. You continue whining as he spanks you, painting your ass with bruises.

“I mean, how could you? I’m the only one who’s ever shown you real attention, real care,” he says, “You’ve never been anyone’s favorite, anyone’s choice. But you’re mine. You think just anyone would go to such lengths to keep you?”

The words sting worse than the slaps. Tears begin to brim your eyes as barbs form in your throat. “That’s not true,” you say, “Everyone who cared about me is dead because of you.”

“It is the truth. Sure, those people may have cared about you but not like I do. You’re part of my very being, a piece of my existence, and I treat you as such. Your life is so much better here than it ever was, yet you repay me by trying to leave?” he lectures.

You don’t respond again. It was hard to think of an argument as your emotions swell within you and your ass burns. More small whimpers escape you, and you squirm on his lap. He smacks you harder in response and gets a tight grip on your hips.

“And nothing to say for yourself?” he taunts, “I’ve been treating you like the little angel I believed you to be, but now I see I need to handle you as you actually are. An ungrateful brat.”

As a mark of punctuation, he lands the hardest smack yet. You cry out, tears beginning to fall down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle weakly.

“No you’re not. You’re sorry you were caught. You’re sorry you’re in trouble. But you aren’t sorry for what you did,” he chides. He spanks you a few more times before stopping.

He wipes the tears from your cheeks and lifts you off his lap, putting you down on your bed. He stands from the bed and heads towards the door.

“Compose yourself before dinner. I don’t want to hear anymore of your whining for the rest of the day,” he says, “And get used to this room. You’re going to be seeing a lot more of it for the next few weeks.”

Then he left.

You didn’t see him until dinner like he said, and even then he was cold and distant. He wasn’t the version of himself that you enjoyed being around. The two of you eat in silence before he dismisses you to your bedroom without so much as saying goodnight. And things continued on like that for weeks.

He knew how to play you like the delicate instrument you were. He knew he wouldn’t need to spank you again, wouldn’t have to chain you up or starve you. All he’d have to do in order to get you on his side was take away his affection. He wouldn’t be nice to you anymore. That simple.

He wouldn’t stroke your cheek or call you sweet names, wouldn’t joke with you at dinner or come to your room to say good night specially to you. You’d be treated like everyone else, and he knew you wouldn’t stand for it.

Being in your room all day for weeks was bad enough, but that part was worse. It sounds simple, like something that should be easy to resist. It drove you crazy though. You hadn’t realized how much his treatment had meant to you. You’d craved being treasured for so long, and he’d given you a taste of it.

You crack one night at the end of your punishment. For the first time in weeks, you could roam the grounds freely. But with him practically ignoring you, it didn’t feel like a reprieve. At the end of the day, you go to his room and knock on the door. Already teary eyed, you walk inside when he permits you. Standing in front of him, you look up. Your lip quivers as the words “I’m sorry” spill out.

He can’t suppress his knowing smile.

“For what?” he asks, playing clueless.

“For trying to run away. And for arguing. And for whatever else you're mad at me for,” you say.

“That doesn’t sound very sincere,” he teases, “Sounds like you’re throwing darts at a board, just trying to hit the right spot.”

“No, I’m serious. I am sorry. I just really don’t want you to be mad. Please. I don’t want you to hate me anymore. I want us to be connected again,” you say.

And that was all he needed to hear.

“Well come here then,” he says and pats his lap.

You do so without any hesitation, curling up to him as if you’d done it hundreds of times before.

“My sweet puppy wants to be good again, hm?” he asks softly as he rubs your back.

“Yes,” you whimper. You wrap your arms around him as if trying to meld the two of you together.

He already knew what your answer would be. His precious little pet. Over the course of your time with him, that’s what he’d decided. You weren’t just something elusive that captivated him for a moment. You were the pinnacle of your kind, the closest to divine a non-sorcerer would ever come to be. You were born to be his. Put on this earth as a sweet thing for him to dote on while he continued with his mission.

“Good girl,” he says. He gently kisses the top of your head. “How about tonight you sleep in my bed? Would that make you feel better?”

Surprising even yourself, you nod. The desire to be back in his good graces, basking in his affection again, dominated your thought process. He scoots back on the mattress and pulls you with him, tucking you against his side under the plush blankets.

“You just need some attention. Little puppies like you can’t handle being ignored for too long,” he murmurs.

You nod in agreement, getting comfortable. That was the fastest you’d fallen asleep in years.

For the next month, you truly fell into the role of his pet. You followed him everywhere, holding his hand and watching him with adoring eyes. But the moment he made it official came one night after dinner. You sat across the table from him as usual, eating quietly and occasionally nodding along to whatever he happened to be going on about. That night took a different turn though. When the two of you were done and the table was clear, he looked at you for a moment and then patted his lap.

“Sit with me, my pet,” he said.

My pet. A title you detested at first. In the beginning, it made you feel awful. Though now, it felt sweet in its own way. The term was one no one else got to wear.

You rose to your feet and rounded the table, approaching him to sit on one of his thighs. You look into his eyes curiously.

“What is it, Suguru?” you ask, your voice soft and sweet as it had come to be in his presence.

“How was dinner, sweetheart?” he asks. One hand rubs up and down your back while his other fidgets with the ends of your hair.

“It was good,” you answer.

“That’s good,” he says, watching your every expression, “Tell me, precious, are you happy here?”

You nod. “I’m happy with you,” he says.

“Well, that’s good because I need to talk to you about something,” he says. He reaches for a pouch he had resting on the table. He undoes the tie at the top as he continues to speak, “You know, as of today, you’ve been here for one year. A full year.”

“Really?” you ask, watching his fingers on the strings.

“Yes, and I wanted to offer you something to commemorate such a special date,” he says.

The pouch finally opens and out of it comes a collar made of black leather with the word Suguru’s spelled across the front in silver letters. He allows you to take it from his hands and inspect it, running your fingers over the materials.

“Thank you, Suguru,” you say. The words come out slowly as you adjust to the idea of having this strapped around your neck.

He grins as you don’t even bother to question it. “You’re welcome. You want to try it on?” he asks.

“Sure,” you say timidly and hand the strip of leather back to him.

“Good girl,” he purrs. His fingers bring the collar to your neck and wrap it around. He fastens it into place, not too tight to restrict you but not loose enough that you would forget its presence.

Turning your head to look at him, he takes in your appearance. His eyes scan your face before looking at your delicate neck with his name displayed across the front.

“You’re beautiful, little love. I don’t think you’ve ever looked better,” he praises and kisses your cheek, “My perfect puppy.”

A smile spreads across your lips, and helplessly, you sink into his affection. He continues to pet your head and run his fingers along your face with the most gentle touches.

“You look just as a proper pet should, collared and devoted completely to your owner,” he coos before kissing your nose.

“I like the collar. It feels good,” you say softly.

“That’s how you should feel. A collar is the most natural thing in the world for a precious pet like you. Someone meant to be pampered and doted on,” he murmurs and moves his kisses to your cheekbones and down your jaw.

Eventually, he reaches your lips. He looks at you before connecting the two of you in your first real kiss. You reciprocate the affection and lean into his touch. He goes in for a few more, his tongue flicking at your lips and sliding in to transition into full blown make out.

Both of your breathing deepens and becomes heavier puffs against each other’s face. After a little more, he pulls back and studies your face, your cute lips wet with his saliva.

“You like that, pup? Was that a good treat?” he teases before leaning down to the part of your neck not covered by the collar.

A breathy moan escapes you as you nod to his questions. He licks your skin before reattaching his lips and nipping at your throat. He places more kisses in the area while his hands massage your waist and move up to your breasts.

“I need to talk to you about something else, little love. Something else that good puppies do,” he says against your skin.

“Ok…” you agree, head tilted back to give him more room.

“I think you & I…” he starts before changing his wording, the only time you’d ever heard him stumble, “I think I need to breed you.”

Your eyes widen and dart over to what you can see of his face. “What?”

“I want to breed you,” he repeats, “My perfect little puppy, full with our perfect baby.”

The words rattle around in your head, but you’re still uncertain. “But Suguru… I don’t know,” you say.

With one more kiss to your throat, he picks you up and seats you on the table in front of him. “What’s causing your uncertainty?” he asks, his hands running up and down your thighs.

“Because… that’s a big deal, and I don’t even know if I want a baby. And we’re not even a real couple,” you reason, your skepticism showing in your voice.

He smirks at your words and nods dismissively. “Little one, we’re beyond being a “real couple.” We’re connected deeper than that, and you know this,” he tells you, “And because of that, imagine how perfect our child would be. A product of otherworldly connection. The baby would make us the family you’ve been missing for so long.”

Thinking his words over, you remain silent. A family? A physical manifestation of the connection between the two of you. It sounded good.

Of course, Suguru knew it would. He rarely enjoyed forcing you to do things. He took pleasure from convincing you of them, manipulating you into thinking as he did. Before you could come to any conclusion that resulted in “no,” he interjects.

“What if we practice? Just try it out,” he offers.

“Practice?” you repeat hesitantly.

“I’ll show you how good being bred feels. How you were just made for it,” he says and pulls your hips closer to the edge of the table. “Lay back for me.”

As per usual, you follow instructions. You lay back against the wood and look up at the bright lights on the ceiling. Suguru’s focus is all on you. He pushes your skirt out of the way and drags his thumb over your panties.

“I’ll warm you up first, little love. Just relax for me,” he says.

You squirm from the budding pleasure in the pit of your stomach. His touch was light enough to not give anything real, but it was still there. He leans in next, dragging his nose in place of his thumb. A kiss lands on your clit through the cloth before removing it entirely. The garment slides down your legs and hits the floor. He spreads you open for his viewing.

“Every part of you is beautiful,” he murmurs.

You squirm a little more as he just admires you. He just stares, taking in every precious detail of you. After what feels like forever, he leans in and licks an exploratory stripe up the length of your cunt. You breathe in a shuddery breath as he laps at your clit and swirls his tongue over your folds.

It’s just a taste though. He uses all his discipline to pull back and slide his fingers inside of you.

“Suguru…” you whine, back arching off the table.

“Such a needy little puppy,” he croons, “You’ve been aching for this and you didn’t even know it. That’s why you have me to show you.”

He pushes them deeper, curling them against your pleasure spots and making you whimper again. A smirk is plastered on his face now as he begins to pump them.

“Good baby,” he coos, “And this is just the warm up.”

Your slick gathers on Suguru’s fingers as he continues his efforts. His free hand holds your hip in place to ensure your squirming doesn’t interrupt him.

“You’re so tight, sweetheart. So eager for me,” he whispers with a kiss to your inner thigh.

Your walls clamp around his digits and draw him further into your heat. He picks up the pace a bit, figuring out what works on you as he goes on.

“It feels so good,” you whimper, clutching the edges of the table.

“I know it does, pup. Better than anything you’ve had before, yeah?” he says.

You nod and moan again as he adds another finger. The stretch wasn’t painful at this point. It just felt like pure satisfaction.

“You’re taking it so well. I can already tell you’re gonna be perfect for my cock,” he says.

He thumbs your clit while working his three fingers back and forth. After a while, the intimate touches become enough to get you to peak. You’re gasping, tensed up on the table before him.

“S-Suguru… can I?” you ask. You knew better than to just do whatever you wanted. He was being kind to you, but this was still his show.

“Can you what, puppy? I have got you dumb enough that you can’t use your words,” he teases.

“Can I- mm- Can I cum?” you stutter out.

“Alright, darling. I think you deserve it this time. Just know it won’t always be so easy,” he says, continuing his motions at the same pace.

You burst before his eyes, seizing up, hands so tight on the table you feel like you could snap it. You cry out loudly, not caring if anyone else were to walk by.

“Thank you, Suguru,” you babble before you’re even in the clear yet.

“What a good girl. You didn’t even need to be told,” he says.

He lets you come down as he stands up and disrobes. You’re still in the fog of euphoria, so you don’t notice how he stands between your legs until you feel his flushed tip nudging at your folds.

Your eyes cast downwards and lock onto his form. He was more bare than you’d ever seen, presented to you in all his glory. He continues to tease your hole, prodding at it with his tip before sliding it up to your clit.

“Suguru…” you whine, “Please.”

He laughs at the pout you attempt before bringing his cock down again and pushing in just the tip. You bite your lip, muffling your noises now that you had a clearer head. That wasn’t what he wanted though. He slips himself all the way inside, getting a needy moan from you once he’s bottomed out.

“Good girl. Don’t try to hide your enjoyment from me,” he says.

“But-” you start before cutting yourself off with a whine. You couldn’t help it when you felt the sensation of him thrusting. “But what if someone comes in?”

“Let them,” he says, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips, “Let them see how good you are for me, the perfect pet. They won’t do a thing. Everyone here knows better than to question me. And that includes you. So no more questions.”

Heat still creeps up your neck at the thought of someone seeing you in such a vulnerable position, but while your mind swirls with the feeling of him inside you, it’s not enough for you to protest. Your shoulder blades pin against the table that creaks beneath you from his movements. He works to find a rhythm, pleased by your obedience.

His grip on your hips is just as tight as when his fingers were in you, and true to his word, you took his cock perfectly. You squeezed around him just right, so tight and warm. He’d never felt anything so heavenly.

He starts moving faster, pistoning himself deeper, and ripping more blissful noises from you. Your eyes were starting to droop with lust and get glossy with ecstasy. One of his hands reaches up to grab your chin and direct your vision to his.

“You like this, puppy? Feels as good as before?” he grunts.

“Yeah. Better,” you gasp. Your responses are curt as your mind would rather get lost in his touch than formulate words.

“Good. You’re gonna wanna do this more, yeah? Cause we can do it as often as we need. When you wake up, during the day when you get bored, when you need me to put you to sleep at night,” he lists out, “All the time until it takes, and you’re growing my baby.”

You whine and nod eagerly. When you we’re getting fucked dumb, that actually didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

He grins at your agreement. He knew he’d still have to convince you further when you weren’t high on pleasure, but this was definitive progress.

“I knew you’d come around, little love. You know it’s meant to be,” he says before leaning over you, pressing his forehead to yours and burying himself as deep as physically possible. “And I know you’re just gonna be the prettiest little mama.”

Another moan spills out of you against Suguru’s lips as he kisses you. His hips keep rutting into yours, locked in on making his words reality. You both pant when you separate. The heat forming between the two of you was sweltering enough to make you sweat.

“Want it, Suguru. I want it now,” you whimper.

That only spurs him closer towards the finish line as you accept it even more than he had anticipated.

“Do you, pup? Or do you just wanna cum?” he teases. His own voice was straining a bit as he got closer.

“Want both,” you defend between moans.

“Good. Cause you’re gonna get both. Cum for me puppy, want you to cum all over my cock,” he mutters and thrusts harder.

You gasp at the sharp movements and dig your nails into his back. Cut off words fall from your lips, and your legs tremble violently. It’s not long before you cum again, jerking and bucking your hips, whining for him and crying out whatever came into your mind.

“That’s my puppy. My perfect girl. Made for me and me alone,” he breathes, shutting his eyes as the feeling of you clamped around him takes over.

His own breathing becomes ragged as he feels the heat inside him reaching a boiling point. He groans, creating the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard as he fucks his cum into you. His hips keep thrusting and don’t break their rhythm at all. He was going to do this right. His mind was fueled by pure determination.

When you both have come down, he’s still on top of you, not wanting to lose contact with your body. He reluctantly pulls out and looks down at you in you’re fucked out state. His sweetest pet. Scooping you up, he carries you to the bedroom to clean you off and get the two of you to bed. He sleeps with you tucked to his chest, his arms wrapped around you like a vise. He dreams of you on his lap, his hand on your swollen belly, and your eyes looking up at him with unending adoration.

#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n #suguru geto imagines #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto suguru smut #geto x reader #geto smut

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princessanonymous · 5 months

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When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

Previous Part | Next Part

First Chapter

Trigger Warning : Murder(I mean this is a platonic yandere vampire fic so I think it's expected but still)

3. 𝓑𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓯 𝓡𝓾𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

(Y/n) rubbed her gloved hands together, a visible shiver running through her frame as the early signs of winter crept in. The tapestry of warm hues, created by the fallen leaves, hinted at the impending arrival of the cold season. Clutching her basket tightly, she navigated the forest floor, where the leaves crunched beneath her every step. Although she wore mittens that her mother had lovingly knitted, the biting wind still managed to sneak its way through, causing her to quicken her pace. She was used to walking down this path. The girl had passed through these trees more times than she could count. In fact, (Y/n) could confidently assert that she knew these woods as well as she knew the back of her hand, familiar with the choicest spots for fruits and the tastiest areas for legumes.

Her gaze dipped down to her basket, brimming with an abundant harvest of wild mushrooms. She liked picking mushrooms. While she held the expertise to distinguish between edible and toxic mushrooms, her mother had a habit of double-checking her finds before consumption. (Y/n) took pride in her knowledge, and it was something she didn't hesitate to boast about.

As she walked, her thoughts circled back to the clearing she had recently departed. She realized the mysterious nobleman hadn't stopped by today. She wondered why a person from such a high profile entertained himself with her. Despite the mystery surrounding his intentions, (Y/n) appreciated his presence. He seemed to genuinely enjoy her random rants and conversation. The only thing that she didn't quite appreciate about him was his insistence on the fact she shouldn't do these little tasks she considered trivial. In his eyes, she was "too young" to be working "so much," a notion she found utterly ridiculous. The invitation to live in his mansion had been extended a week ago, and his repeated offers, met with her continued refusal, had become somewhat tiresome.

The path neared its conclusion, and (Y/n) failed to hear the familiar sound of her father's ax slicing through wood, a task he undertook to prepare for the impending frigid months. As (Y/n) tilted her head to the side, she wondered if he had hurt his back again. He wasn't as young as he once was. This task was becoming too strenuous for her father.

She knocked at the door. Approaching home, she anticipated her mother's customary welcome, complete with a steaming bowl of stew. However, as she waited outside, there was no such greeting. Unsettled, (Y/n) tried the door, only to find it unlocked.

"Mom never leaves the door open," (Y/n) whispered out with a pit forming in her stomach. She didn't know why it made her feel so weird. Maybe her mother had simply forgotten to lock it. There was a first time for everything, right ?

"Mom? Dad?" she called out with uncertainty, stepping into the silence of the house.

The once-cozy family home lay in ruins, a chaotic scene of overturned chairs, shattered tables, and broken plates that appeared as if a merciless tornado had swept through their lives. Blood stained the floor in grotesque patterns, a sign to the carnage that had unfolded within. There was too much blood. Dad was laying there, unconscious— dead on the floor. His eyes were wide open, staring at her with horror etched in his features. His neck had been bent in an odd shape, blood pooling out of it at a rapid pace.

A few feet away, (Y/n)'s mother was held captive in the clutches of a man—a man she recognized as the Duke de Beauvoir. Her mother's eyes were vacant, her complexion deathly pale, and sharp, white fangs had punctured her neck, the source of her life's essence drained by this monster in human guise.

'Vampire,' her mind supplied the dreadful truth.

A creature taking the form of a man, feeding upon the lifeblood of mortals.

The beastly duke turned his gaze toward her, his once-blue eyes transformed into a deep, almost crimson violet. Blood, her mother's blood, trickled down his lips.

Every instinct within her screamed the same command: Run. And she obeyed, abandoning her basket and sprinting into the forest, a place she knew well. She darted among the trees, her footfalls almost stumbling over exposed roots and colliding with low-hanging branches. Her mind was on high alert, and her heart pounded fiercely. Eventually, she found refuge inside a massive oak tree, one with a sizable hollow in its trunk where she had often hidden as a child.

Footsteps drew closer, their ominous presence tormenting her. "Are we playing a game, child?" the voice of her parents' murderer called out in a singsong tone. "I will find you~."

(Y/n) bit down on her trembling lip, her hands muffling her sobs. It was a macabre irony that she was once again using this tree for hiding, but now it wasn't a game. She watched as he walked past the tree, seemingly unaware of her presence. Relief washed over her, but her respite was short-lived. He returned, kneeled, and peered down at her, his face twisted into a sinister smirk that revealed his elongated fangs.

Terrified, she couldn't suppress her scream, and he effortlessly yanked her out of her hiding place. As she fought back against his inhuman strength, she pleaded through sobs, "No! Let me go! Please—"

"Hush," the vampire whispered soothingly. "Your father is here now; I shall make it all better."

He smiled at her, and before she could fully comprehend his words, he sank his fangs into her neck. A harrowing shriek escaped her lips.

This was the end, she thought, the world fading around her. She would join her parents in the afterlife. Her vision blurred, and her body went limp against her will.

Eventually, her screams quieted, and the pain subsided. (Y/n) felt the vampire's arms carry her, her body unresponsive. Her breathing slowed, and her head spun. Everything began to fade to black.

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere vampire #yandere father #obsession #yandere #vampire #platonic #x reader #female reader #reader insert #child reader #yandere x reader #kidnapping #tw kidnapping #tw death

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skylarsblue · 3 months

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✦Incorrect COD Quotes Eleven✦

Recruit: That’s a weird fuckin’ tone man! Gaz: That’s just how he sounds, he has an asshole voice. Ghost, tell him he’s okay. Ghost: ….everything is great. Y/N: Dude- - König: Just shut up! König, losing it: I am going to kill the next person I see I swear to god- Y/N, popping up: Hello, hi! I’m so happy to see you! Soap & Gaz: AHAHAHA König: Heeey oh my god….oh my god what’s going oonnn-;;

- Y/N, on Soap’s back: :3 Soap: Mate, you’re heavy, you’re gonna break my back. Y/N: I bet your boyfriend did that last night. Soap: *COUGHCOUGH* Y/N: *malicious laughter*

- Y/N: Justice is what I want. That is what I want, that is where my priorities lie. Kate: And the men you killed for your team- Y/N, coddling the entire team with blankets and tea: Don’t bring the boys into this.

- Y/N, looking at the carnage in Las Alma’s: You mean to tell me this all happened cause you were messing with the “shadow man”? Soap, bleeding from the shoulder: He was very charismatic!

König: WHAAAT?! König: After all you put me through, you expect me to help you just like that? Just. Like. THAT?! Y/N: Yes. :) König: …fine. Horangi: Fine?! You’re doing what they say? König: Eh, they’re very persuasive.

Soap: You wanna make…love? Simon: ….*nods* Soap, smooth brain: Do we have the ingredients for that? Simon, contemplating marriage:

Goth!Y/N: *in the dark with a singular candle and some crystals* Jooohhhnnn~ Soap, with a crucifix: BACK OFF YA SPOOKY BITCH-

Ghost: I- hm… Gaz: Be nice. Ghost: I’m finding it. Gaz: …it take you that long to find- Ghost: It does. It does.

Gaz: Alright, between the two. Captain o- Y/N: I’m suckin’ it. Gaz: wait Lemme get- Damn DAMN Soap: HOLD ON WAIT- Y/N: *the face of no regrets*

Ghost: Can you just be quiet? Y/N: What’s up your ass this morning? Soap, walking in: Mornin’! Y/N: Ah, nevermind. Ghost: Gaz: PFF-

Y/N: *loads gun* Now I gotta pull up. Everybody dying, me included. I ain’t going to jail! Soap: What happened to them? Gaz: KorTac was making fun of us and now they’re mad. Soap: Hurry, if we’re quick maybe we can get popcorn ready before it starts-

Ghost: This is humiliating. Price, icing his hand: I told you what would happen if you kept sneaking up on people. Ghost: It wasn’t intentional! Price: Tell that to my hand, Simon! Now go, you’re dismissed. Ghost, huffing: *walks away, a jingle sound ringing out from the bells that Price put on his belt*

Soap: What do you call a man who swims, but has no arms and no legs? Gaz: Hm… Y/N: …Thomas the Sank Engine? Gaz: WHAT? Soap: *wheeze* The answer’s Bob but that’s brilliant!

#call of duty #call of duty incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #cod modern warfare #modern warfare #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #john price #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #gaz call of duty #kate laswell #horangi #konig #konig call of duty

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dovahkiin796 · 3 months

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Poppy Playtime: CH 3 (What-if Part 2)

John watches in both awe and terror as the metal, skeleton-like hand of The Prototype lowered from the same hatch CatNap jumped down from to get the jump on him. The giant purple cat backed away in fear at it.

Knowing he failed his God, he feared at what punishment he'll receive. But instead of a harsh punishment. The Prototype turned his hand around, as if wanting CatNap to take it.

At least that what it would look like to an outside viewer. But to CatNap. He knew what it truly meant... and he was very willing to it.

CatNap, real name Theodore Grambell, got onto his knees and waited for his God to take him. The Prototype pressed his sharp fingers together and rammed them through CatNap's mouth.

The death was instant. The large front legs fell limply to the floor and as if the giant cat weighed nothing. The Prototype lifted the dead Bigger Body off the ground and into the hatch.

As far as John knew. That was the last time he would see of CatNap. Getting up off the floor. John looks at his right GrabPack arm and sighs when seeing the green hand completely destroyed.

"I really hope I won't be needing it anymore." He said. Taking the elevator he used to get up to this power room back down. John completes his task by putting the blue battery into the wall socket and diverting the Red Smoke.

To his left he heard a door open. Walking through it, John finds himself in a massive room with a concrete covering hooked to some kind of crane system in the center.

"Good, you're here." Said the voice of Poppy from nowhere. "And you've done it again. The impossible. Just like I knew you would."

"I didn't do it alone. Had some good friends to help me on my journey." Said John with a soft smile. "...I wish more people like you worked here in the factory. Maybe... maybe none of this would have happened." Said Poppy.

Suddenly the lid was being raised. Revealing a long shaft and another elevator that would take anyone down it. "CatNap's gone... the Red Smoke is diverted... Everything is falling into place, thanks to you. But if we're to keep going then..." Poppy emerges from an open vent, stepping onto a platform with a VHS tape in her tiny hands.

The little doll correctly assumes John came back for his co-workers, wanting to know what happened to them. It was all over the news. Who wouldn't want to know? Around over 250 people suddenly vanishing without a trace. And he wasn't there to do anything to save even one person from just disappearing.

"This... this is your answer." Poppy raised the tape, so his focus was on it. "We called it "The Hour of Joy". She inserts the tape in a VHS player. John heard the sound of static and looked to where it came from.

On the ground floor with him he sees a TV. He walks up to it and sees from the POV of a CCTV camera of the main lobby with Huggy standing in the spot where John first found him. Though this time he was surrounded by dozens of people.

It looked like it was just another day in the factory. Till Huggy suddenly attacked someone by chomping down on them. The people all ran in terror with Huggy following them.

John watched in absolute horror as the feed would change to different cameras around the factory. He saw Mommy Long Legs reach out and grab three workers and crawled up to the ceiling out of the camera's view. Then only a few seconds later the workers she carried up fell to the ground. Blood splattered onto the floor.

John couldn't believe at the amount of carnage he was seeing. Everyone must've been so confused when the toys suddenly started attacking them. Some of the employees no doubt cornered themselves in an attempt to find a safe place to hide.

After watching the toy massacre everyone. All there was left to see were the bodies. They were everywhere! Just left in the spots where they were killed. The tape came to an end. John had to back away and process at what he just saw.

"I remember hearing every moment of it." Said Poppy in a tone that made it clear she was vividly remembering that horrible day. "It went on so long... So agonizingly long."

John continued to remain silent as heard Poppy recount it all. Remembering their cries, begging for God to save them, pleading to see their families. Poppy referring it as nothing but senseless slaughter that didn't fix anything. No one was spared and when it was all done. The bodies were dragged to the deepest part of the factory... and were then feasted upon by the toys.

Just then a door opens up and stepping through it is Kissy Missy and to John's joy she's holding DogDay in her left arm. When spotting the human, he waves at him. "Hey there Angel! I'm glad to see you're still alive. CatNap? ...is he...?"

"Dead." Is all John said. DogDay looks toward the ground in a thinking manner till saying. "I know I said I was the last of the Smiling Critters back at the Playplace. But I was referring to the fact me and the others didn't follow CatNap's belief in The Prototype. But with CatNap now dead... I'm truly the last."

Suddenly DogDay broke down into tears. Actual tears were falling from his eyes. "I... I wish the others were here! I wish they were still alive to see this day! Finally free from all the torment, all the suffering, all the misery! I wish... they got to meet you, Angel."

Kissy turned the Smiling Critter around and gently pressed his face against her pink fur. She then with her free hand started rubbing the back of his head. She knew hugging was Huggy's specialty. But she also knew kisses would not be the appropriate action to reassure DogDay.

John, feeling so sorry for his new friend, walks over to him. Knowing what the human wanted to do. Kissy crouches down to allow John to put his hand on DogDay's back and mimic Kissy's soothing gesture.

After a minute DogDay was able to calm down. He dried his pitch-black eyes with his hand and said. "Thank you, all of you, for saving me and keeping me safe."

"John here deserves all the thanks. It was he who made the choice to save you. Which is why I keep saying he... you John. Are perfect for this quest to finally put an end to The Prototype." Kissy hands DogDay to John who gladly took him and had him in the same position when they were escaping the Playplace.

He looked over his shoulder and smiled at him and despite the Smiling Critter was always smiling. John could tell DogDay was giving him a genuine smile in return.

Kissy took hold of Poppy and placed her on the elevator platform with John and DogDay following suit. "Are you ready for this DogDay?" John asked the Bigger Body.

Nodding his head. "I am. It's time to end that monster once and for all. Avenge my friends and those who were slaughtered during The Hour of Joy. So, they can finally be put to rest." The elevator slowly made its way down the shaft towards the home of The Prototype. John wasn't sure what he was going up against.

He only over saw the hand of The Prototype and only heard it was intelligent. But judging how Mommy Long Legs feared about being a part of him and CatNap's brief moment of fear at seeing the hand. The Prototype is leagues above Huggy, Mommy, and CatNap. But at least he wasn't alone in this. 'We'll make it. I believe in that.' He confidently thought in his head.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #dogday #oc #fanfiction #fanfic #what if #smiling critters

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icanhearcolors · 7 months

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Close Encounter pt. 2

I couldn't help myself :p

Again if ya see any spelling or grammar errors lemme know

pt 1 | pt 3

Word Count: 4k

You’re falling.

Chunks of giant tentacles from a living mind-flayer ship fall with you as you watch one of the dragons that rent the nautiloid apart soar victoriously away from the carnage it created. The air stinks of burning flesh, and there’s a stabbing pain behind your eye caused by a living being squirming around in your skull. All things considered, you’re not panicking as much as you thought you would be. You reach for the weave, but you used all the spells that you possibly could fighting the intellect devourers, imps and whatever else was on that retched ship. Falling from such a height will be unavoidably fatal, and somehow you’ve accepted that. Now you have nothing but a few more seconds left to live and your thoughts. You wonder for a moment if anyone will miss you. Could that be why you were chosen by the mind flayers? You have a job you are proud of, but no family, and if you’re being honest very few friends. Your disappearance will probably be attributed to whoever you last crossed in the courts in your role as magistrate. It will be news for a bit, but nothing shocking for the lower city of Baldur’s Gate.

The ground is rushing up faster now. A flash of white sand and blue water. A beach. You hate the beach. How ironic that you’ll die there. You close your eyes for one final time and brace yourself as best you can for what death by meteor impersonation will feel like-

except…

It doesn’t happen.

You open your eyes.

You are suspended upside down, face a couple inches from the ground that would have killed you. You stare at a seashell for a moment in numb shock, before every emotion you’ve ever felt bombards you. Terror, rage, elation, relief, exhaustion, grief, they wage a war in your head until you are completely overwhelmed, and everything goes black.

—-

For the second time in a day you awake in an unfamiliar place, only this time it’s on fire.

Your eyes snap open, seeing nothing at first except for the beautifully blue sky above you. It’s almost peaceful, but you can’t shake the nagging feeling that something is wrong. Then it hits you.

Why is it so quiet?

You hear nothing. There is no wind rushing, birds cawing, waves crashing, you hear nothing but your own blood rushing in your ears. You sit up, your muscles aching, and immediately grimace in pain as something inside your skull moves. Your ears begin ringing with a high pitched screech that pressing your palms into your ears does nothing to stop- and then nothing.

As quickly as it came it fades again, and when you remove your hands from your ears- sound comes flooding back, along with the rest of your senses. Your skin is rubbed raw from the sand, you taste smoke and blood in your mouth, and you fight the urge to vomit when you smell the rotting carcass that is the nautiloid. Intellect devourers scuttle across the fleshy ground with wet slaps in one direction, the ocean is all that waits for you in the other. You reach for the weave and find that you were at least asleep long enough to recover your spells. You stand carefully on shaky legs, stumbling to avoid glowing red jagged metal wreckage and pools of black congealed blood. Bodies of the less fortunate passengers litter the sand. You turn their pockets and grab a weapon or two as you pass by. They won’t mind. You waste no time, marching toward the burning chunk of the nautiloid that seems to be the only way forward. Three intellect devourers block your way, but they’re hurt, and seeing the beaten path on the other side of them gives you enough reckless inspiration to take them on. Crouching behind a rock, you summon the weave and give it form with a simple incantation.

“Ignis!”

The first devourer drops dead immediately. You stare incredulously at the hand that guided the flame as if it could explain to you where all that firepower was when you needed it on the ship. The other two devourers sprint toward you on broken twisted legs, and you firebolt them too. They both get a hit in on you before they die, shredding your skin with their claws, but it’s nothing a healing potion or two won’t mostly fix. You uncork a small red bottle and down its contents, watching in wonder as in this small contained way, time moves backwards. The blood pooling at your feet and staining your clothes is pulled back into your body, and your wounds seal closed almost instantaneously. The shredded fabric of your clothes is the only indication that you were ever hurt at all. Staring down at the creepy burning brain creatures, you begin to wonder if this is your life now. Your previous reluctant companion Lae’zel told you on the ship that the tadpole you now unwillingly carry will turn you into a mind flayer within a matter of days, so you do not allow yourself more than a moment of reflection before you step over the bodies and begin walking the path behind them. A path means people walk this ground often, and if you follow it far enough, surely you’ll find some sort of civilization.

You don’t make it far before you hear shouting.

You take off running on instinct. There’s an actual living person somewhere up ahead of you, potentially another survivor, and by the sounds of it they need help.

You turn a corner and skid to a stop in the sand, panting, staring at the back of an oddly familiar looking stranger. He turns to you, and your heart stops in your chest as you recognize the vampire you met in a tavern some odd years ago. He looks different in the sunlight, even paler, his red eyes brighter, anyone would be able to see vampire written all over him if it weren’t for the fact that he was standing before you in broad daylight. Were you wrong about him being a vampire? You can’t imagine how else he’d have red eyes and fangs but there has never been a vampire that could walk unharmed in the sun. He doesn’t even blink at your approach. Expression urgent, he ushers you over to the group of bushes he’s standing in front of, and you take a few steps forward in mute astonishment.

“Hurry! I’ve got one of those brain things cornered. You can kill it can’t you? Like you did the others?”

He must have seen you fight off the devourers at the beach. You take a second to recall his name. Astarion. He doesn’t seem to recognize you at all. You can’t find any of the shock and recognition you’re feeling in his eyes. You can’t read his expression at all actually.

You begin to nod as you process his words. The devourer is a problem you can solve, the vampire-but-maybe-not-a-vampire is a mystery you don’t think you’re capable of handling just yet.

You tell him to step back and observe the rustling in the bushes, preparing to firebolt the illithid creature to the hells where it belongs. You take a step forward, and out of the rustling bush explodes a boar, not a brain.

You huff a quick relieved laugh and turn to face Astarion when you feel two things in quick succession, the cold sharp edge of a dagger against your throat, and a hand sliding up the back of your head, gripping your hair in a fist and yanking you to the ground.

“I thought I told you to run the next time you saw one of my kind, not save them from a mind flayer’s dog” Astarion admonishes, using his grip on your hair to force your head back even further. It seems he does remember you after all.

The air is knocked out of your lungs, so casting a spell isn’t an option. You do the only thing you can think to do. You reach up to grab his wrist and fight to push the dagger away from your throat. Even using both arms, you aren’t strong enough.

“Shhhhh shh shh, not a sound. I’ve been on the receiving end of the daylight spell too often to trust you spell casters. You’ll hold your tongue if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.”

You keep both hands around his wrist, hoping if he does try to kill you, you’ll be strong enough to maybe disarm him at least. You say nothing.

His answering smile scares you more than the knife at your throat.

“There’s a good girl. It seems you can follow instructions after all. There’s hope for you yet. Now, I saw you on the ship didn’t I? Nod.”

You try your best to nod considering the circumstances.

“I want to know how you survived the crash. If you say anything that sounds like it even might be the start of a spell it’ll be the last thing you ever say. Speak.”

“I-I don’t know. I was falling, and then I wasn’t. Next thing I knew I was waking up on the beach. How did you survive?”

“I’m not easy to kill,” his words are both an answer and a warning.

“Now you’re going to explain to me exactly what you and those tentacled freaks did to me.”

Your mouth drops open in shocked indignation.

“What I did to you?! We were both abducted! Have you lost your mind?”

Faintly you hear a high pitched ringing in your ears but you ignore it. You probably have hearing damage from the ship explosion.

“Don’t lie to me! The first person I refuse my master in over a century finds her way to me again just seven years later on a mind flayer ship of all things and you want me to believe it’s a funny coincidence?”

“Oh well yeah when you put it that way my kidnapping you and the other fifty people on the ship with my mind flayer best friends makes so much sense!” You practically shout.

Astarion presses the dagger a little further into your skin, just short of drawing blood, and you wince.

“Ohhhh you little-” Whatever he was about to say is cut off by both his cry of pain and yours as the ringing in your ears drowns out all other sound. Something twitches in your head and for a few moments you are looking through eyes that aren’t your own, prowling the dark streets of Baldur’s gate. You feel nothing but a soul deep hunger, starvation feels more accurate a term.

In a flash the memory changes, and you’re in a cellar of some kind. The first thing you notice is that the floor under your bare feet feels wet. The second thing you notice is the immobilizing pain radiating from your shoulders to your lower back. Your arms are shackled to the ceiling. You are standing in a puddle of your own blood.

“Please” You groan in a voice that isn’t yours.

“Petras says you let a mortal escape.”

You don’t have a response to that. Unbearable pain lances through your side. You jerk, and a skeletal hand grabs your shoulder.

“Hold still boy. I’m trying to avoid the scars.”

Your soul is slammed suddenly back into your own body, vision Astarion’s scream blending with your own as you wrench yourself away from the hands holding you. Amidst your panicked scrambling the dagger cuts a searing line where your neck meets your shoulder. It would have sliced your throat if Astarion hadn’t pulled it away in time. You pull your cloak over the injury and lean against a nearby tree, sliding down the rough bark until you’re sitting with your knees pulled to your chest. Your back throbs with echoes of the pain you experienced in Astarion’s memory. He looks just as shaken as you do, though perhaps less terrified.

“What… was that?” You hiss through your teeth.

Astarion rolls to his feet and sheaths his dagger, apparently deciding you’re not as much of a threat as he thought you were.

“What did you see?” He asks warily, noting your less than jubilant reaction.

“You-” You hesitate, not wanting to trigger a potentially dangerous response by reminding him of a traumatic experience.

“Ohhh I’ve never seen you tongue tied before. Was it scandalous?” He asks teasingly in a low voice, as if someone on the empty path next to the burning ship wreck would be listening in to this ridiculous conversation. It irks you enough that you snap the real answer at him.

“You were being tortured.”

Astarion looks at you expectantly, as if waiting for you to continue.

“And?”

“What do you mean and?”

“That doesn’t exactly narrow it down.”

“It doesn’t?!”

His laugh is dark and devoid of any real humor.

“Not in the slightest.”

An uneasy feeling settles in your stomach as you recall Astarion’s rambling from the night you met. He said a man named Petras would tell someone if Astarion didn’t return with you, and implied he’d suffer for it.

“Someone was speaking. They said you ‘let the mortal go.’”

“Ah. That was your doing.”

Shock and confusion flood your system for a moment before they’re drowned out by a much stronger emotion.

Anger.

“Oh I would love to hear how you think I am to blame for whatever the HELLS I just witnessed.”

Astarion crosses his arms and levels you with a withering glare

“What you just witnessed was my punishment for not bringing you back to Cazador.”

The name is familiar to you. You remember Astarion saying it that night, and you vaguely recall that he’s someone important to Baldur’s Gate.

“Cazador Szarr? The creepy noble who lives in the giant gothic castle in the lower city? He wants me dead?”

Astarion sighs.

“Not you specifically, no. Unfortunately for us Baldurians he’s rather indiscriminate with his murder.”

You shake your head, more confused than you were when you woke up in a mind flayer pod.

“You lost me.”

“He’s a vampire lord.”

Your jaw drops as you realize what exactly he’s saying.

“YOU WERE GOING TO FEED ME TO A VAMPIRE LORD?” You shout.

His eyes widen at your sudden outburst and he raises his hands, speaking slowly as if he were trying to placate a rabid animal.

“Okay so you’re angry. Perhaps understandably, but I didn’t have a choice. Do you know anything about vampires?”

“They drink blood, avoid the sun, live in covens, sleep in coffins?” You offer.

Astarion nods,

“All true, but more goes on in those covens than you know. Turning into a true vampire corrupts you completely. Most people think the biggest threat to them is a cleric with a stake. That's not true. The biggest threat to a vampire is another vampire. When a vampire drinks the blood of a mortal they turn that mortal into their vampiric spawn. We have the red eyes, the fangs, the bloodlust, the enhanced senses, but that’s it. We would have to drink the blood of our maker to become a true vampire, but what maker would allow such a thing given the choice between having a slave or a potential threat? Cazador turned me when he found me dying in an alley in the lower city. He gave me a list of rules,” Astarion begins speaking in a nasal, probably quite offensive caricature of who you assume to be Cazador.

“‘First, thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures. Second, thou shalt obey me in all things. Third, thou shalt not leave my side unless directed. Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine.’"

“What are non-thinking creatures?”

“Animals mostly. Usually he had us drink the blood of dead putrid rats his servants would find around the castle.”

You shiver as a wave of nausea hits you at the mental image. He continues,

“What I’m trying to say is when I found you in that tavern my entire reason for existing was to lure pretty things back to my master. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You did have a choice though,” You remind him. “You let me go.”

“I may have rebelled a little, but I couldn’t disobey the order I was given. I found another victim, and they suffered the same fate you would have. I paid in blood for sparing you.” He says bitterly.

“What do you want me to do? Apologize for the fact that you didn’t want to kill me?” You ask exasperatedly.

Astarion tilts his head inquisitively, considering your words.

“Yes, actually.”

“How is that my fault?”

“It’s your fault because you, the only good person in the entirety of the under city, ended up in my usual tavern. A tavern I never could return to by the way- lest you be there. Usually I can’t stand good people but you just had to be a magistrate for the same judges that led me to drink on more than one occasion when I was mortal and when I kissed you I-” He pauses mid-rant when he sees your owlish expression.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asks, his tone skeptical, as if he believes you're plotting something.

He's right in a way, you're considering your options. You’re unsure what to do with this stranger. He’s dangerous for certain. You’re not entirely sure what the outcome would be if you tried to take him on, especially now that you’re running low on spells and health potions. Even if you managed to limp out of that fight alive, the next devourer or goblin to happen upon you would easily kill you.

The thought suddenly occurs to you that maybe you two could travel together. You obviously don’t trust each other, but a dangerous ally seems like the best type to have these days, and you share a common enemy.

In the silence that follows his rambling, a question you’ve been dying to ask slips out.

“Wait, can you walk in the sun because you’re only a spawn?”

Astarion places a hand over his chest in feigned offense.

“Only a spawn? That hurts my feelings.”

You return his snarkiness by pretending to be deeply confused.

“Wait…you have those?”

“Not often, no.” He sighs. He reaches out past the shade of the tree he’s standing under and allows the sun to warm the palm of his hand. “But that, I feel. It kind of tickles,” He smiles with real astonished happiness. You never thought you took the sunlight for granted before but you’re reminded in this moment that you had more to lose than you thought.

“Spawn burn to ash in the sun just the same as vampires, I haven’t seen daylight in centuries.”

“So what’s changed?”

“Probably the same thing that allowed you to see my memories and I yours. The thing we had rather rudely forced into our skulls.”

You nod, and tell him about your githyanki ally who warned you what the tadpoles would do to you both if you didn’t find help soon.

“So it’ll turn me into a monster. You’d think by now that fate would be tired of playing that joke on me.”

It’s that sentence that cements your decision to take him with you. You did not meet in the best of circumstances, and yet you feel a very unsettling but genuine connection to this vampire. For better or for worse, he’s all you have right now.

“Astarion?”

His head snaps up, pulled from his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to find a healer that can remove this worm from my head. I might take a few of the other survivors with me if I can find any. You should come.”

Astarion looks you up and down, considering his options.

“I was ready to go this alone, but you seem to be a useful person to know. I’ve tried and failed to kill you twice and truth be told I’m quite good at killing people.”

As weird of a response it is to the horrific thing he just said, you feel hope for the first time in a very long time. With Astarion by your side you won’t have to navigate the wilds alone.

“Don’t make me beg.” You joke, a small smile forming as you realize he’s going to agree.

“Don’t tempt me.” He holds out his hand palm up.

“I’m not getting that apology am I?” He asks.

Wondering where this is going, you reach for his hand.

“Not any time in this millenia.”

“Unlike you I can wait until the next one.”

He grips your hand in his and pulls you to your feet.

“Assuming I don't kill you first.”

“Ha! I like you.”

“Did you figure that out the first or the second time you tried to kill me?”

“Definitely the second. The first time is always so dramatic and emotional, the second go around is where the real fun begins.”

“You’re not talking about attempted murder anymore are you?”

“What else would I be talking about?” He winks.

“Fuck you Astarion”

“Ask me nicely and I might consider it.”

Such forwardness shocks you despite how much of a flirt you already knew he was. You stutter for a moment, unable to come up with a response, and decide to half heartedly swat at his shoulder instead. He catches your wrist before you land the blow, and when your eyes meet his he’s grinning in a way that flashes those fangs of his. “You’re a violent little thing aren’t you? I think I will travel with you. I could use the protection.”

You know he's being sarcastic, but your response is real.

“You watch my back, and I’ll watch yours.”

Astarion's amused expression sobers.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he agrees plainly, without a trace of sarcasm. You almost raise your hand to his forehead to check his temperature when you realize that joke wouldn’t work on a vampire. With your life no longer in danger, the adrenaline high from the last couple minutes fades rapidly, and you begin to feel the extent of your injuries. You reach up with your free hand and rub the back of your head, wincing at the sting from where Astarion yanked you by your hair. Understanding dawns on his expression and he has the decency to at least look apologetic.

“You know, under the right circumstances I’m usually much better at that sort of thing.”

Aaaaand he’s back. You open your mouth to respond when he stills suddenly, inhaling deeply through his nose. His eyes snap to your shoulder,

“Why are you bleeding?”

You remember the cut from the dagger and try to take a clumsy step back, but it isn’t quite the retreat you hoped it would be. Your back hits the tree you were sitting against. His grip on your wrist tightens, and he takes a step forward as you take one back, eating up the already dismal distance between you two in one stride.

“Someone held a dagger to my throat,” you attempt to deflect some of the tension.

Astarion’s pupils dilate, his movements are predatory, and you fear you’re about to be the prey he breaks his maker’s first rule with.

“Who?” His voice is low and melodic, almost hypnotizing. “I’ll kill them.”

You laugh nervously,

“Apparently he’s hard to kill.”

His answering smile is sharp as his dagger.

You begin to seriously question your choice in allies. This is the third time you’ve feared for your life because of this man, and you doubt it’ll be the last.

He drops your wrist and steps back, swallowing thickly. He tosses you a corked red bottle, a healing potion.

“I won’t bite, not unless you ask me to of course.”

He begins striding up the path, correctly assuming you’ll follow.

“But drink that before you drive me absolutely insane.”

You down the contents of the tiny bottle and toss it into the sea, speeding to catch up with your new friend, the sun walking vampire.

Life couldn’t possibly get any crazier.

Right?

----------------------------------------------------

hiiiiii! I'm not sure how tagging works but I'm gonna try to tag the people that showed interest in me writing a sequel because that's so cool and I love you guys

@aoirohi

@tamwritesstuff

@smaranshakthi

@perseny

@stronglycoffeescented-blog

@hadesbabygurl

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #reader insert

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xhoneygirlxx · 8 months

Text

One Of The Girls

Modern King!Steve x Fem Reader

summary: Steve only hits you up when it’s convenient for him and you’ll always answer because it feels nice to be what he wants, even if it’s just for a night.

warnings: fboy!Steve, modern au! circa 2018. reader and Steve are both in their early 20's. reader is given the nickname 'trouble'. ooc steve, he's a big meanie and pretty much a douche bag. angst. Minors DNI smut: unprotected p in v (wrap it up kiddos), fingering, oral receiving (m), daddy kink, swearing, slight dom/sub, cream pie, insinuations to reader being on birth control, possessive steve, toxic steve! hair pulling. Steve's job is mentioned briefly, I like to think that this version of him works for his dad landscaping, so that's what i put lmao. this is named after The Weeknd's song from the idol and I also use his song 'Try Me' in this, awe well. if i miss anything please let me know! also bad writing and grammar mistakes, not proofread.

a/n: hi my loves! i was inspired to write something based off of this blurb. again, smut is so not my strong suit so i beg that you be nice to me :) i also want to mention that when i was looking for pics for this fic, i couldn't find one picture that gave me fboy vibes bc joe keery is simply bf coded lmao. thank you all for interacting with my posts and just being so lovely to me! i appreciate you all and i hope you enjoy this <3

divider by: @saradika

You knew from the moment you met Steve Harrington it would be trouble, that he'd have you locked down for as long as he wanted. The pretty boy with the nice smile, who said all the right things and made all the right moves. You were a fool from the get go and he knew, he knew it the moment you let him hit that you were his.

Everyone knew about 'king Steve', the boy with the puppy dog eyes but a closet filled with so many skeletons that the door refused to shut. From what you heard he wasn't a relationship kind of guy, that he collected bodies like he was paid for it, and then went on his merry way no matter what carnage he left behind.

He was bad news and you swore you would stay away, not get swept up in the honey like vortex of his eyes, but when he said your name it sounded so right and who were you to refuse someone as tempting as him.

The name satan isn't far off for him, both so beautiful and angelic but rotten to the core, so evil that you often wonder if they were ever created with a soul.

As much as you wanted to let him go, block him out of your life completely, you simply couldn't. All your friends thought you were stupid for playing such a dangerous game but they didn't know him like you did. They didn't know how he actually took care of you when he was done abusing your poor hole, how he'd buy you little gifts simply because it reminded him of you, and they certainly didn't know the boy who would make you laugh so hard your ribs bruised.

At least that's what you tell yourself, how you sugar coat the simple fact that Steve Harrington treats you like trash because let's face it, he does. For every thing he does 'right' he does a million other things wrong. He goes weeks without texting you and the only time he does is when he's desperate. He only takes you to secluded spots just so he can get a nut. And most importantly, he tells you everything you want to hear so that you stay.

You were connected to Steve by a string, no matter how far you pulled away he would pull you right back in. If you were a masochist then he was a sadist and you would take whatever torture he gave you with the biggest smile on your face because at the end of the day you were his and only his.

It's a Friday night and while you'd usually be out with friends, you opted to stay in tonight, too tired from the work week to physically get out of bed.

Under the warmth of your comforter, you scroll through Instagram blindly liking different post on your timeline. The white numbers in the corner of your screen read a little bit past midnight and as badly as your eyes wanted to shut, your brain simply couldn't resist the glow of your screen.

A notification pops up at the top of your screen and your ready to fling it away to dismiss it when your heart rate picks up at the name.

IMessage:

Harrington 🙄

Your finger moves faster than the speed of lightning, hitting on the bubble to open the messaging app.

Harrington 🙄: wyd?

It's a simple enough message but you sit and ponder how to respond. You don't want to come off too desperate but you also don't want to wait too long to respond knowing he has other options lined up. Without overthinking too much more, you move your thumbs across the keyboard and sending your message.

Harrington 🙄: wyd?

You: nm, why?

Waiting with bated breath, you watch the text bubble pop up to notify he's typing.

Harrington 🙄: wya? lemme scoop you

Bingo.

You: im at home. how long do i have before you get here?

Harrington 🙄: bet. gimme 15 mins.

Your heart shouldn't be beating as fast as it is and you shouldn't be hopping around with joy like Snow White when she's singing to the birds, but like always Steve says jump and you say how high.

It should make you sick how he hasn't texted you in two weeks, only now asking to come get you so he can fuck. It should make you sick when you put on your brand new panties, that you may or may not have bought for just him. It should make you sick when you spritz yourself in his favorite perfume, growing flustered at the memory of him complimenting you for it.

All of it should make you sick to your stomach but that's not a possibility when he chose you. He chose you to keep going back to, he chose you to continue seeing and not one and done your ass. A twisted part of your brain is so convinced that he has some sort of feelings for you, the way you do for him. It's like a kaleidoscope, no matter how you twist or turn it, the colors are always so beautiful.

And if everyone wanted to tell you any different, all you had to do was show them the sparkling diamond necklace that hung from your chest. A thoughtful gift from the man they all claimed didn't have any love in his heart, even though you and everyone else knew it was a way to show his claim on you.

The familiar sound of Steve's blacked out Jeep pulling in your drive way makes your heart jump with excitement. Wasting no time, you dash down the drive, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer.

Pulling the door open you're met with the all too familiar scent of him, Ralph Lauren Ultra Blue swirling in your nose and going straight to your head.

He looks so good in his grey joggers, hugging his thick thighs that he knows drive you crazy. The white Hanes tee he wears is crisp, like he ironed it before putting it on. The sleeves wrap about his toned chest oh so perfectly causing some of his wild chest hair to poke out. To add the icing on the cake he's wearing that gold chain, that damn gold chain you loved looking at when he had you on your back.

"Hey trouble." White teeth flash in the darkness of the car, like the moon that's hung in the sky.

"Hi Stevie," You internally cringe at how needy it sounds, "how was work?" He gives you a small chortle at your question, still smiling that damn smile that could cure deceases.

"It was fine, had to cut the college's lawns. Ya know, the fun stuff." You nod your head at his answer, too nervous to even give a spoken response.

"Anyway, I thought we could take a ride down to lover's." It's said like it wasn't common knowledge already. Giving him a small okay, he leans over and places a quick peck on your lips, before putting the car into drive.

The ride to lover's lake from your house was a short seven minute drive but for some reason it felt like the roads were getting longer and longer. You want to jump out of the car, bile rising in your throat knowing how this is going to end. The heartbreak, the sadness you were gonna feel the minute he pulls out was already hitting you and it hasn't even happened yet.

His radio plays at a louder volume, The Weeknd's 'Try Me' bumping through the speakers.

You're the best I ever had

Baby girl, remind me, mind me

Let me now if it's on

And you know where to find me, find me

Havin thoughts you never had, yeah

You want to roll your eyes at the words but then again maybe he put this on because this is how he felt about you. The logical part of your brain tells you to get real but when you feel the fuzziness in your cheeks, your logic is all but ignored.

Maybe this time will be different, you think.

When he pulls onto the dirt path, he pulls the car under the big oak tree he always does. You wonder if this is where he brings all of his hookups but decide to push that though in the back of your head, not wanting to ruin the night.

"I missed you, trouble." Steve leans his back on the driver side door, watching you with those eyes you feel for all those months ago.

"And I bet you say that to all your little girlfriends." You jest back, making him roll his eyes dramatically.

"You and I both know that's not true." The low husky tone in his voice makes the fact he didn't deny the accusation of having other girls around, go down that much sweeter.

"You're all talk Harrington," You say seductively, leaning over the center console, "Why don't you show me how much you missed me?"

Steve's smile is wicked, pulling the keys out of the ignition, pointing you to get into the back. When you're settled in, he maneuvers ungracefully over the center console, making both of you laugh.

Sitting his body in the middle seat, you swing your leg over his lap, immediately locking your lips with his. Steve's not as rough as he usually is, taking his time like he's trying to memorize the way your mouth felt and tasted.

When you try to speed it up, he wraps his hand in your hair, yanking you off of him.

"Slow and steady, baby. We have all the time in the world." With your hair wrapped around his fist and his hard cock digging into your thigh, his voice is all but calm and sweet.

Moving back in to meet his lips, you match his energy. Rolling your hips slowly, you relish in the way he groans into your mouth. When you drag your hips over his again, you shudder with the way his hard on catches on your throbbing clit. Wetness starts to fill your panties, tummy tightening with want.

Steve's hands move to your hips, guiding your movement. Spit soaked lips leave yours, moving along your jaw down to your neck. Leaning your head up to the roof of the car, he takes that as invitation to massacre the tender skin.

He sucks hard, right where your vein pumps frantically with lust, leaving another mark for you to carry around. One more tattoo right on your heart that beats for him.

Pulling away, a thick finger grabs onto the chain that hides under the collar of your sweatshirt. The small diamond glittering softly in the darkness of the night.

"Look at my baby, wearing her present so proudly. Isn't that right?" It's cocky and it should make you shiver with an ick but it doesn't. It only fuels your delusions.

You hum in response, too dumb off of his kiss to even open your mouth.

"Nuh uh, I asked you a question." Moving your sight down to him, he's already looking up at you. His lips are shining, cheeks puffed from the smile that glitters up at you.

"Yes, daddy." A deep growl comes from the back of his throat, a feral look painting over him.

You pretty much get whiplash from how fast he rips off your sweatshirt, revealing the pretty lace bra in the color he adores so much on you. His lips suck harshly on the skin of your chest, leaving reminds of him for only you to see.

"Can I suck you off, daddy?" It's breathy and so desperate leaving your mouth, all that talk about not wanting to look needy right out the window.

When his head moves away from the valley of your cupped breasts, he looks like a kid on Christmas. Eyes twinkling with excitement, like he's been waiting for all year round to hear those words.

"Don't need to beg me now, trouble. It's all yours." The smirk that paints Steve's lips is devilish and if you were in the right headspace you'd scoff at his condescending tone. But right now he was giving you exactly what you wanted and you weren't about to complain.

Clambering off of his lap, you move into the seat next to him, kneeling down. You could double as a dog who waits patiently for their owner to drop their treat, tail wagging and heavily panting.

Steve lifts his hips pushing down his joggers and underwear in one go, his heavy cock jumping up in excitement, bouncing off of his stomach.

The saliva in your mouth pools, almost escaping through your slightly parted lips. Your metaphorical dog bone waiting in front of you but you can't have it until he tells you to, so you wait for him to get get comfy again.

Looking over at you, he raises an eyebrow as if to say 'well?', and that's all you need to hear to move forward, making sure to arch your back when you do.

You decide to tease him a bit, kitten licking the head before sliding your tongue up the prominent vein that sat on the underside. The feeling of him shuttering spurs you one even more, bringing a hand up to his heavy ball sack and gently running a finger over it. You can feel your panties being drenched even more with wetness, just from the thought of how he tastes.

As weird as it might sound, you loved Steve's dick. It was a good seven inches, with the slightest curve that made him hit that special spot every time. He was thick too, so thick you that he always needed to prep you with his three of his fingers before hand.

Bringing your head back to the tip, you dripple spit onto it, smearing it with the precum that's already beaded out. Ever so slowly, you take your hand and begin you jerk him at the base of it. Looking up at him, you can see him eyes closed, brows furrowed together, as his chest moves rapidly up and down.

Deciding that you can't wait any further, you put him in your mouth and start bobbing up and down. Not even halfway down his shaft and you begin to gag around him. Using your hand to take whatever your mouth can't, you move faster. The raunchy sounds of you slurping him up fill the small space of the car.

When Steve jolts his hips forward you can't help but choke, throat closing around him, making him moan deeply.

"I know but you can take it, right?" You do your best to nod your head with him in your mouth. You look up at him with glassy eyes, drool coming out both sides of your mouth, and he chuckles at you.

"So fuckin' pretty." Steve says breathlessly and you beam at the praise, going back to taking him further in your mouth.

You push through the want to gag, putting more and more of him in your mouth. You want to prove something to him, prove that no one else can make him feel like this and it seems to be working when he whines so loud it rings in your ears.

Pulling your hand off of the base, you cup his balls in your hand, messaging the sack gently in your hair. The heavy weight of his hand lands on the top of your head, once again yanking you by the hair.

You whine at the loss of his heavy cock in his mouth, pouting childishly at him when your at eye level with him again. He's panting hard, cheeks fleshed pink, and his hair messy from him running his hand through it.

"It was so good, honey," he breathes, "but I really wanna finish inside of you."

The sentence makes your belly burn even harder than before. Trying to move around in the cramped backseat is challenging, both of you pausing to laugh when your pants get caught on your foot awkwardly.

Once your leggings and panties are discarded somewhere on the floor, Steve takes his time admiring you. His gaze burns you with every movement of his eyes. Here you are, clumsily sprawled out for him in the backseat of his beloved Jeep.

Bringing a hand to your thigh, he rubs it up and down the skin, causing the skin to raise in goosebumps every time his finger would catch on the lip of your heat.

You whimper at him, raising your hips trying to meet his touch where you need him most. Tisking down at you, he shakes his head.

"What's the magic word?" He teases and you pout even harder.

"Please, Stevie? Need you." You say wetly, the burn of tears coming back in your eyes. Steve leans over you, so close that if you brought your head up just an inch, your noses would touch.

"The right answer was, 'Steve is the coolest', but I'll let it slide since you sound so cute." He whispers to you, placing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.

The tip of his finger runs along your slit and you mewl at the feeling.

"Do you always get this wet, trouble? Or is this just for him." The smile pulled on is one like the joker. Sick and twisted and yet all you see is an angel from above.

"S'for you. S'always for you, daddy." It comes out like a slur, so drunk off of one little touch.

"That's my girl." It's more like a whisper when it comes out of his mouth.

His finger diving into the sticky mess that's been made in between your legs. Swirling his finger around your hole, spreading the wetness up to your bundle of nerves, moving in slow figure eights around it.

Steve hasn't even put a finger inside you yet and the lewd squelching of your pussy can probably be heard for miles. The feeling of him putting more pressure on your clit makes you jolt with pleasure. When the first finger breaches your hole, your eyes close in euphoria.

Even with just one of his fingers inside of you, it feels way better than anything else. The thickness of it stretching you further than two of yours could.

Still using his thumb to circle your clit, he pushes another finger in. Starting off slow, he pumps both into you, curling them up in a 'come hither' motion.

You're high off of him, off of the way his hands feel, and how good he's making you feel. All of that waiting and wondering when he'd reach out to you paying off in this very moment.

"You can take another one, right? You gonna take three of daddy's fingers like the good girl you are?" His voice is intoxicating and you drink it right up.

You nod your head, babbling 'please daddy' and 'more, more, more". He's eating it right up, the way he's got you dumb and he hasn't even fucked you yet.

Without another word, another thick finger joins the other two. This time he decides to go faster, hitting that spot you struggle to reach on your own. With his thumb still swirling around and now three fingers deep, you can feel the tightness in your stomach building.

You can feel your slick dripping down your ass onto the leather seat beneath you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, legs pulling up from where he's sat between them, toes curling in a death grip.

"I'm gonna, fuck, I'm cumming," The sentence gets cut off with the air that's trapped in your throat.

His movements don't stop, guiding you through your orgasm. When the waves of your orgasm washes over you, your legs relax like they're filled with jelly, slobber running down the side of your face, and your chest moving unsteady as you try to catch your breath.

You hiss when he removes his hand from you, mourning the loss of feeling full. Moving his fingers to his lips, he sucks your juices off of them one at a time, releasing them with a pop when he's done.

Using his other hand, he brushes some of the hair that's sticking to your face with sweat behind your ear. Placing delicate kisses to your cheeks and forehead, he glances down at you. The harsh black that once enveloped his irises are now softened with a look that you have yet to decipher.

"You did such a good job for me, sweetheart." He coos at you, running his thumb along your jaw. "You okay? Need a break?"

"No, I'm okay Stevie." Your smile is nothing but pure happiness. Blame it on the after glow of your orgasm all you want, but the happiness is purely due to his attentiveness to you.

Placing one more kiss to your deprived lips, he moves his attention to his aching cock. Spitting into the palm of his hand, he jerks himself a few times before lining himself up to your entrance.

Pushing in gently, his tip breaches your hole and all the air is punched out of your lungs. Even with his prepping, you never seem ready for the real thing.

Going inch by inch, stopping every so often for you to catch your breath, he finally pushes all the way in. After waiting for the okay, he doesn't hesitate to pound into you.

You swear you can feel him in your stomach, reworking each and everyone of your organs, but you could careless when it feels this good. You want this feeling forever, the feeling of his weight on top of you, him spreading you out so well.

The gold chain that hangs from his freckled neck dangles in front of you, hypnotizing you with the way it moves back and forth. With all the strength you have, you watch him trying to remember how he looks when he's inside of you so when he ultimately ghosts you, you can close you eyes and imagine it.

Steve looks so beautiful like this, eyes closed tightly, browns pulling together, pink puffy lip tucked behind his straight teeth. You want to take a picture, hang it in a museum for all of the world to see, but this is for only you to see. Your own little memento for you to keep to yourself.

"Fuck you're so wet, hmph, and warm. Jesus" Steve grits out, bringing you back to reality.

Skin slapping off of skin echoes out, loud moans and groans making a lovely soundtrack just for you two.

"Shit, right there!" You cry out when his cock hits just perfectly on your cervix.

"Bullseye," He whispers to himself before ramming into you even harder than before.

Your mouth curls into an O shape, no words or sounds coming out. The feeling of your finger nails raking down his back backs him grunt loudly.

"You and this pussy are mine. Tell me you're mine." He demands but you can't do it, too overwhelmed with the way your stomach has started to tighten.

Because you don't answer right away, he snakes his hand down to your abused clit, circling it again causing you to jolt from overstimulation.

"Don't make me tell you again, trouble." He spits out.

"I'm yours Steve. S'yours." You shout, your orgasms approaching faster and faster.

"S'always gonna be mine, right? No one else?" He question and it sends your head reeling.

"Always yours, always fuck, yours." You're babbling now, tippy toeing on the brink of your release.

"Come on baby, cum for daddy. Cum on my cock." He pants, going faster and faster as he does.

Without argument, you're hurdled over the the edge, gushing and pulsing around Steve. He continues to fuck into you, chasing his own high now.

"Cum in me, daddy. Wanna feel it so bad." You coax, wanting to feel the warmth of his seed filling you up.

"I love how you feel, baby. You got, motherfuck, no idea." His strokes are starting to lose rhythm, sloppily moving as he continues.

"I love this pussy s'much. Fuckin' love yo-" Before he can finish his statement, he cums with a guttural moan.

Your mind goes blank, eyes snapping open with confusion. Was he about to say he loved you? Is that what he was going to say? Every single question runs through your mind while the boy in question is collapsed on top of you, breath choppy and erratic as he comes down.

After what feels like the world's longest minute, he removes himself off of you, pulling his dick out from your cunt. You whimper at the feeling, missing him even more than before.

Wordlessly, Steve pulls open the center consul and takes out a couple of napkins. Returning his attention to you, he wipes down the mess of you and his release off of you, causing you to shudder. He repeats 'sorry' over and over again as he does.

After that, he uses what's let to clean himself off before getting redressed. You move from your position on your back, sitting upright to ungracefully put your clothes back on. In the darkness of his car, you can't find the panties you were once wearing, deciding to forget about them and pull your leggings back on.

The blissful after glow that was once there is now demolished, a big elephant taking up most of the space now. When he moves back to the driver seat, you follow right behind him, planting yourself in the passenger.

Steve doesn't turn the car on just set, he just sits looking straight ahead through the clouded windshield to the darkness of the woods that sit in front of you. You want to say something, break up the awkwardness that sits between you two but you don't know what to even say.

It smells like sweat and sex, every window is fogged up with both of your hot breath, and the only sound that can be heard is the breaking of your heart.

You know he won't be back in two weeks, you know that his texts will stop rolling in, and that he'll eventually find someone to fill your spot. The bloodshed that's now left, of whatever this was, now fills the backseat of his car. A crime scene that will haunt him every time he looks in the rearview mirror, a murder by his own hands.

This cat and mouse game isn't fun anymore for Steve, not when he's lost at his own game. You're the cause of his demise, the girl that's broken through all his barriers.

Unbeknownst to you, you're all that Steve thinks about. Every morning, noon, and night, it's you that is on his mind. The months of seeing you, feeling you, the taste of you, were killing him softly. Steve didn't buy gifts for other girls, yeah he fucked around, but he never kept one around the way he did with you and he surely didn’t fuck them raw the way he does with you.

Steve was falling for you, opening himself up in such a vulnerable way that it scared him. He stopped the late night drive going nowhere, switching it to strictly going to lover's lake. The talks that he had with you, all the times you made each other laugh, were now replaced with short answers. Meeting up with you almost all the time now became once every couple of weeks.

You were the one thing, the one person Steve wanted and needed in his life but he couldn't give into it. He was a bad person, an asshole who turned good people into shells of themselves, and out of everyone he couldn't ruin you. He wouldn't ruin you.

Putting the keys into the ignition, he turns the car on, headlights illuminating the trees around you. Cracking the windows, he lets the cool air sweep the scent of you out of his car. Putting the car in drive, he presses down on the gas as hard as he can, taking off of in a flash.

The car ride home is silent, only the hum of his music can be heard with the whooshing of the wind. Anxiety fills your body, picking and pulling the skin around your nails with your teeth.

The loud ding of his phone rings out, a notification popping up on the Apple radio screen. Your heart cracking when you see it.

IMessage:

Jess💦: Still coming over?

Taking his phone out of the cupholder, his eyes are still trained on the road. As he pulls up to the red light, he types out something quickly and then puts it back down.

Another ding is heard and another notification pulls up on the larger screen.

IMessage:

Jess💦: See you soon daddy

Tears fall quietly from your eyes, your heart now completely shattered in the front seat of his car. You should've know, you did know and you still did it. You let your naïve heart believe that maybe you could change him, and you ended up looking like the idiot everyone said you were.

You can't even be mad because they were right, you were a goddamn idiot to think Steve Harrington loved you, let alone liked you enough to change.

More tears fall onto your cheeks, the burning feeling of a choked sob sits in the back of your throat. It feels like everything that could've went wrong, did just that.

The cold nip of the night air can't compete with the way your veins have frozen over and your heart slowly turning into a lump of coal. When he pulls in front of your house, he puts it in park and looks over at you.

“So,” he hesitates, “do you need money for a plan b?”

Your mouth hangs low in shock and he’s looking at you cluelessly. Scoffing at him you pull the handle to the door open.

“Don’t worry Harrington, I’m on birth control.” Putting a foot onto the ground, you got to get out, pausing turning your head back to him.

“Not like the world needs another you in it.”

Getting out of the car, you slam the door so hard you're surprised the glass doesn't shatter.

This was the end of whatever you and Steve were, him being the one to cut that pesky string that kept you close to him. Steve Harrington has changed you, a hateful person now replacing the sweet girl he loved so much.

The girl that Steve Harrington loves was now dead and Steve Harrington was now dead to you.

Thank you all for reading. The ending is rushed but we won't speak on that lmao. Love you all <3

#steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #modern!steve harrington #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem!reader

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bonefall · 1 year

Text

Better Bones AU: History Lesson

(A new, updated version of an old history lesson, with some new names and the hopes of being a better summary. Refer to this one over the old one!)

[ID: Ferncloud from Warrior Cats is lecturing Lionkit, Jaykit, and Hollykit.]

Teaching history in the Clans became an important feature after the defeat of Ripplestar near the beginning of the Chivalric Period. While elders are seen as the chroniclers of history, a dedicated Educator takes on the role of making sure each litter learns everything they need to know.

During the Settlement Era, ThunderClan's educator Ferncloud teaches the kits of ThunderClan about glyphs, the basic tenets of the Warrior Code, and an overview of history.

As of the newest arc, there have been 5 Periods so far, with each period being broken down into 3 Eras and side stories. Those are;

ANCIENT PERIOD Dawn Era, Code Era, Skyfall Era

CHIVALRIC PERIOD Ripple Era, Crusade Era, Campaign Era.

THISTLE PERIOD Broken Era, Tiger Era, Fire Era

HOMING PERIOD Journey Era, Settlement Era, Eclipse Era

MODERN PERIOD Reunion Era, Reckoning Era, Current Day

In addition, there is also a Prehistoric Period, which is only remembered by Clan cats through the tales of LionClan, LeopardClan, and TigerClan. The truth is even stranger than the mythological animals they tell stories about.

See: Hollyleaf's Century.

Ancient Period (1920s - 1970s)

Dawn Era

Moth Flight's Vow

In the Dawn Era, the five ancient founders settled the Forest. From the North came the Clans, lead down from the mountains by Gray Wing the Wise. From the south came Warriors, following a king, Arc of the Park.

Gray Wing died in a fateful accident while saving his right-hand man, Shaded Flower. Clear Sky managed to keep the group together through his sheer strength, settling them into the forest. This all changed when a horrible accident caused the leg of Clear Sky's brother, Jagged Peak, to be permanently twisted.

His own brother and the leader of the Clan at the time, Clear Sky, cast him out. His pregnant mate, Bright Storm, protested this cruelty and tried to care for Jagged Peak all winter long. Her efforts were in vain as he starved to death, and the spirit of Gray Wing responded to this by sending her a hero and a sign;

Bright Storm's litter had one survivor, a ginger tabby named Thunder Storm, missing its leg in the same place where its uncle had lost his. They brought the child back to the group.

Refusing to learn his lesson, Clear Sky rejected the child just like he'd done to Jagged Peak. This time, many families did not abide the cruelty, headed by Tall Shadow. This caused the split between Sky's Clan and Shadow's Clan. Shadow's Clan came into constant conflict with the Wind Coalition, Thunder Storm broke off Thunder's Clan many years later after a great injustice, and he eventually struck up an alliance with the River Kingdom.

Rising political tension culminated in Sky's Clan taking the prince of the River Kingdom, River's Ripple, as a hostage. The First Battle broke out between all five groups at Fivetrees, a bloodbath with so much carnage that the bodies could not be buried in one day.

StarClan broke the battle with a flash of lightning, coming down from the heavens to offer each leader a revelation, and a reward. The reward being that each leader would get 9 lives to lead their Clans, and better understand the cats within them, as long as they gave a proper burial to each cat killed in the pointless fight.

The first two Commandments of the Warrior Code were made on this day-- the Law of the Land establishing borders, and the Law of Honor, which states that a true warrior does not need to kill in order to win their battles.

And thus ended the Dawn Era, and started the Code Era.

Code Era

Because this was before the Clans taught history, most of the Code Era is remembered in parables associated with the creation of Commandments 3 thru 8. It's also MUCH longer than most other Eras, with many of these parables being several generations apart.

The cats in them are so old and so storied that they are seen as deities in StarClan, prayed to and invoked by the living. Examples being Daisytail, Patron of Protection and Parenthood, and Redscar, Patron of Arbitration and Decision-Making.

Eventually, the third commandment, the Law of Loyalty, was made in response to the open love of Ryewhisker and Cloudberry. It banned interclan mateships and closed off the groups in a way unseen since the Dawn Era, and ignited the ancient tradition of Kitten Stealing.

Unknown to the living, in protest of such an evil law, Ryewhisker and Cloudberry willingly joined the Dark Forest. They are two of the oldest spirits there.

An accurate chronicle truly begins with the Skyfall Era.

Skyfall Era

Cars, brand new highways, and suburban expansion started to cut into the Forest as the humans entered a new era... not that the Clans knew why it was happening. Kittypets, associated with these humans, started to be seen more negatively than ever before.

This Era is named for, and defined by, the loss of SkyClan.

Commandment 9, the Law of the Wild, was made in response to SkyClan cats defecting to live as housecats; "A true warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet."

As their territory evaporated below their paws, SkyClan was blamed for everything out of their control. To this day, this era is framed as a cautionary tale to kittens, "What happens to a Clan when they stop living by the Code." In a famous final plea, SkyClan was turned away and exiled.

Their ancestors, 1/5th of StarClan, went with them... except for Skystar who remained in Silverpelt, revered as a Patron of Battle.

The Clerics of the four remaining clans protested the exile ferociously, banding together to go on strike until SkyClan was returned. To break it and bring their medics back under control, the Medicine Cat's Vow was codified into law.

Previously, it had been a personal vow between Clerics, one with no enforcement behind it. Not taking a mate or having kittens was to always keep medicine above Clan loyalty; but the code was enshrined to make a Cleric put Clan loyalty above all else. A corrupted vow. Dalestar of WindClan smeared his Cleric, Larkstripe, as a hypocrite and sent her kitten away.

See: Larkstripe

And thus ended the strike, and the Ancient Period, as the following Chivalric Period began.

Chivalric Period (1970s - Late 1990s)

Ripple Era

Ripplestar's Rot

Larkstripe's kitten was raised at Birdsong's belly in ShadowClan, the adopted brother of Gorseclaw and Spottedpelt. Ripplemoon understood it was a great injustice that SkyClan had been exiled, and vowed to make room for his siblings' father and Clan to return home.

Meanwhile, the 5th Oak at Fivetrees was beginning to rot. The Ripple Era was named for this time of tumult, ending with a crash as Ripplestar's war came to a bloody halt.

After the death of the 5th Oak, Fivetrees becomes Fourtrees, widely considered a sign that a Clan that cannot keep its borders does not deserve to have them. THREE new laws were added to the Warrior Code, all of them related to making cats more loyal.

The Full Moon Truce, ruling that cats were not to fight or argue at gatherings

The First Tasks, a set of pre-existing traditions now codified, that all apprentices had to complete upon becoming warriors

The Leader's Rights... to not be disobeyed.

The Clan Pride Tide that followed ignited war and chaos, considered to be the 'chivalric ideal' of Clan society. The battles were glorious, and never before were cats so honorable and ferocious. Punishments were harsh and severe... such as the one for a certain mother who took a halfclan mate, and was given 3 ill-fated kittens by StarClan.

And this punishment truly ended the Ripple Era, and lead to the Crusade Era.

Crusade Era

Darkstar's Commandment

Pinestar's Crusade

When a false sign from StarClan was misinterpreted by the Cleric of ThunderClan (unknown to all: Birchface was a rogue StarClan warrior who sent it), Oakstar ferociously exiled Mapleshade and her three kittens in the midst of a storm. With nowhere to go, she tried to bring her children across the river to their father's Clan. They did not survive.

Darkstar refused to even allow her to bury the kittens in RiverClan. Mapleshade exacted her revenge, taking out 3 cats before being taken out herself. Furious at the injustice and murder, StarClan damned every cat involved, and gave Darkstar and Oakstar a command; to NEVER let this happen ever again.

Darkstar created Darkstar's Commandment, that all kittens were to be protected regardless of origin, and no one would be compelled to reveal the other parent of their kittens. This is known as the Queen's Rights.

See: Queen's Rights

Oakstar opposed this change at first, until he was beaten by Darkstar and forced to accept this new law. Fearing that StarClan would be furious with him, he attempted to please them by starting crusades against the cats of Chelford.

These Crusades lead to the creation of BloodClan, to defend Chelford cats against Clan invasion. From this point it evolved into a system of governance unique to itself.

See: Brief BloodClan Guide

WindClan and ShadowClan joined in on these raids for several years, with only RiverClan abstaining. Between the cats of the forest there was an era of odd 'peace' as they had new targets to battle for honor... until Heatherstar took power.

The Campaign Era reignited inter-Clan hostility.

Campaign Era

Tallstar's Collapse

Brokenstar's Cataclysm

Stormpaw's Demon

Bluestar's Flowers

Heatherstar of WindClan flexed her ambition by launching a campaign to take the Mothermouth Moorland from ShadowClan, setting off a cascade of renewed inter-Clan hostility. It caused ShadowClan to hold territory from ThunderClan, ThunderClan to re-take Sunningrocks, and RiverClan to assert control over the Gorge, causing periodic four-way fights between them in ways unseen since the Ripple Era.

WindClan lost the tradition of tunneling in this Era; as it isn't useful for the total war that Heatherstar needed to take such a huge chunk of territory.

In the later half of this Era, a group of young cross-Clan friends started to meet in secret. Bluemoon of ThunderClan, Hoprunner and Ashfoot of WindClan, Lizardstripe of ShadowClan, Oakheart of RiverClan, and Barley Senior of BloodClan.

They called themselves the Forget-Me-Nots, and it was the beginning of the ideology known as Fire Alone. Bluemoon's love of her friends, and the loss of her family in pointless battles, made her realize that something needed to change.

And yet, this era gave birth to something much more rotten. As the Clans hardened and started to see the more brutal parts of the code as fundamentally opposed to its softer laws, the tenets that would found Thistle Law began to form.

See: Thistle Law

Named for a painful lesson that Thistleclaw taught his apprentice, Bluestar's rise to power stalled its implementation for a few more safe years. It was the ironic negotiation of a Peace Deal to end the Mothermouth Moorland war which ended the Chivalric Period, and birthed the Thistle Period.

Thistle Period (Late 1990's - 2008)

Broken Era

Spottedleaf's Plague

After generations of fighting, Raggedstar of ShadowClan was old, tired, and wanted only to see peace for his last years of life. He went to end the war and stop fighting for the Mothermouth Moorland which had been contested for so long.

His son and deputy, Brokentail, killed him before he had the chance.

The rise of Brokenstar was the first true implementation of Thistle Law. His followers believed that the only way to truly win a war was to destroy the opposition-- completely. As Heatherstar had done before by sacrificing tunneling, Brokenstar, too, was prepared to make sacrifices.

In just a few short years using brutal tactics like poison claws, traps, and apprentice-targeting, ShadowClan had shredded WindClan's numbers. The final bloody event in this eradication was the WindClan Massacre, a full assault on their camp, and ShadowClan had even broken the code by bringing inexperienced warriors to battle. Casting out a full Clan was considered evil and barbaric.

Rebels formed in this time, but without help, they would have stood no chance against the popular Brokenstar.

It was Bluestar of ThunderClan and her young champion, an ex-kittypet called Firepaw, who agreed to lend their aid. Guided by the words of a prophecy, "Fire Alone Will Save The Clans," Bluestar instilled in her apprentice a new way of seeing the world.

With Brokenstar deposed, Bluestar sent her champion again to fetch WindClan. They gave ShadowClan space to recover, defended the weakened WindClan against River and Shadow, and even accepted a blinded Brokenstar out of mercy. At all turns, Bluestar embodied justice and chivalry...

Or so the ThunderClan history lessons say. Others like to put more emphasis on the growing darkness behind Tigerclaw.

Tiger Era

Tigerstar's Paws

It officially began when Tigerstar took power in ShadowClan. TigerClan lasted for only six horrible moons and defines the shortest era in the history lessons, but its story is told with horror and hushed tones.

Dozens of cats died, in raids and in executions. Prey was stolen from other territories and slaughtered en-mass to build a ridiculous, reeking monument of bones. There wasn't even enough to build a solid hill, so Tigerstar demanded they create a pointless facade over mud just for his ego.

But all of this was still not enough for him, and he contacted BloodClan to negotiate the Impossible Deal. They would have half of the Forest, if they helped him kill his enemies. Scourge did not trust Clan cats, but against his better judgement, as if the heavens were whispering in his ear... he agreed.

The Era came to a crashing halt when Tigerstar attacked his ally and Scourge famously opened him up in two hits. A very special song was made about this moment; Tiger's In A Heap.

Fire Era

Cinderpelt's Solution

Firestar's Quietus

The Tiger in RiverClan

Tigerstar had made a deal, and Scourge intended for it to be upheld. Half of the forest was rightfully his, and he would evict any Clan cats who he found living on it, tired of their dishonorable ways. He gave them three days to clear out.

Firestar was able to convince the four Clans to unite as one to defend against this threat, but he had a revelation. Scourge wasn't wrong. Clan cats had acted dishonorably with him, making promises they didn't intend to keep, attacking him when he didn't obey like a minion. In spite of being Bluestar's champion and successor, Firestar himself had been treated as if he was lesser, just for his birth.

To Scourge, and to Rusty, the Clans HAD been dishonorable. The Code ended at the border and treated outsiders as less-than-cats.

When the battle with BloodClan began, Firestar and Scourge faced off. The battle was legendary. In a fateful move, Firestar slammed the leader of BloodClan to the ground, and ripped his collar clean off. "A true warrior does not need to kill to win their battles."

Calling for a retreat with his life, Scourge left his collar behind on the battlefield. Firestar returned it, and opened up new negotiations with the humbled leader. "We have won our right to the forest, but speak to me; how much of Tigerstar's impossible deal can we honor for you?"

The answer was so simple as to be ridiculous. They wanted materials like wood, nice-smelling flowers, and new kinds of food. Things that they couldn't find in the dumpsters and gray pavement of twolegplace, and BloodClan could offer materials of their own to trade.

The Fire Era allowed the Thistle Period to have a brief, but sweet time of peace. This time of cooperation ended in a horrible ball of chaos, as the forest was destroyed by man and the cats had to go on a long journey.

Homing Period (2007 - 2018)

Journey Era

As the forest was destroyed, the Clans sought guidance from StarClan. The Clerics went to the Mothermouth, as was expected in those days. Cinderpelt, Littlecloud and Cinderpelt's apprentice Leafstripe were slightly late, as usual, taking their time getting there to have their bi-weekly chat.

When they arrived, they found Mothwing frantically digging at a collapsed rockfall. If they hadn't been late, they too would have died. Mudfur and Barkface were dead. The remaining Clerics dug until their claws were bloody, then fell asleep where they stood.

Leafstripe of ThunderClan received a prophecy. Four chosen cats must follow the Brightest Star, and find them a new home. These four cats were sent by each Clan; Brambleclaw, Tawnypelt, Feathertail, and Crowfoot. Squirrelpaw and Stormfur joined them, without permission.

As they went on a quest that would come to be known as the Sundrown Patrol, the four Clans suffered through many hardships. ThunderClan was forced out of its camp, WindClan was poisoned and ensnared, RiverClan pushed for Sunningrocks as the river dried up, and ShadowClan's marshland was filled in.

After the patrol returned to free several cats who had been trapped by humans, the Clans left hastily to begin the Great Journey.

Something changed on that trip together. For the first time ever, the four Clans had to rely on each other, and see things the way they could be. The apprentices and kits in particular walked away with a unique mindset about cooperation, summed up with a special dish they created together known as Paw Soup.

But of course, it did not last. On reaching the lake and discovering the Moonpool, Leafstripe received three new prophecies.

"Blood will spill blood and the lake will run red."

"Fire and tiger will clash and burn together into ash"

"The first of the lake will guide WindClan."

Her name was changed to Leafpool, an honor title to reflect her powerful seeing abilities.

After the death of Tallstar and the hasty rise of Onewhisker to power, Mudclaw decided that this prophecy must mean that the first cat to see the lake after the Great Journey would lead WindClan. Since he lead the first patrol here, he was especially convinced that it meant him.

(Unknown to him, it was referring to his child, Kestrelflight, who would be the first kitten born at the lake. Shortly followed by his brothers Harestar and Owlclaw, Hare and Kestrel were given to Mudclaw's brother Torear shortly after their birth while Whitewater kept Owl.)

Mudclaw's Rebellion spiraled into a conflict involving cats of all Clans, lead in by Hawkfrost. After a failed assassination attempt on Onewhisker's life, StarClan was so furious at Mudclaw's insolence that they smote him with a falling tree.

When this failed, Hawkfrost became desperate, getting three Tribe cats temporarily cast out of RiverClan, and attempting to kill Firestar to put Brambleclaw into leadership. When Brambleclaw hesitated, Mothwing sprang out of a bush to rescue the leader, and Brambleclaw fought his brother. But, he was unable to land the fatal blow, and Hawkfrost lunged for his sister... only to impale himself on the stake she was holding.

As the lake ran red with tiger blood, Brambleclaw stepped down from his deputyship, and Brackenfur took power. Mothwing returned with the body of her brother, but her troubles were not yet over. The cats of RiverClan who had participated in WindClan's rebellion didn't believe it was an accident, and Leopardstar did nothing about these accusations.

Mistyfoot realized that something had to be done. Hawkfrost was a victim as much as he was a perpetrator, and these ideas had to be pulled up at the root.

Every Clan has a different moment for where the Journey Era ended. ShadowClan believes it's when they arrived in their new home. WindClan thinks the death of Mudclaw feels right. ThunderClan sees it as the appointment of Brackenfur as deputy. RiverClan marks it at the sudden death of Leopardstar to a rogue, bludgeoned to death on a rock.

Homing Era

An unprecedented time of peace, never seen before, nor since. These days have come to be seen as halcyon, divided up into 'episodes' of conflict and interesting tales.

Some of these episodes are,

The Shinewater Plague

When a twoleg truck veered off a thunderpath and spilled gallons of shining poison into RiverClan territory, Mistystar had to decide what kind of leader she wanted to be. In this instance, she accepted help in spite of what some of the harsher cats of her Clan demanded.

ShadowClan's Lichen Rebog Project

Arriving at the lake was hard for ShadowClan, as the rivers in their territory were deep and their land was largely useless pines. Blackstar commanded an ambitious terraforming project, blocking up the rivers and controlling the flooding to turn their land into a marsh. ThunderClan offered their help, as usual.

Ripwater's Devastation

A giant, monstrous fish lurked in the depths of the lake, sucking down a RiverClan apprentice into the abyss and making fishing dangerous for any cat going for a swim. Ripwater needed to be dealt with, but RiverClan had never killed something as large as a boar, let alone larger.

Salt Patrol

This was the first time that the Clans had regular access to gathering their own salt, an important medicine for treating infection and parasites. There were times that apprentices of all Clans would converge, by coincidence, for a beach episode.

The Tribe's Rogues

Taken aback by the fact the Tribe cats ask for help even when they have a choice, Clan cats grapple with what this says about their own upbringings.

See: The expanded notes on how the Tribe visit has been completely reduxed to fix its problematic elements.

The Three, who would come to be known in story and legend, grew up in this period, exploring themselves, their friends, and the culture around them.

This time of kindness came to a tragic end in the Battle of the False Eclipse, and the Cruel Season that followed it.

Angered by ThunderClan's meddling in their affairs, WindClan and RiverClan attacked them and pulled all the Clans into a lake-wide brawl that was only ended by a flash of darkness. Sol showed them a taste of what was to come just a few years later, when the planes of reality would collide.

The Dark Forest had been making its moves and sewing seeds of discord within disgruntled cats of the Clans, involving them in a plan to snatch godhood from the stars. Their first major move was the 'accidental' killing of Brackenfur in the Battle of the False Eclipse, and the fire in ThunderClan that came later, as cover for killing Firestar.

And so, Bramblestar ascended to power with Squilf as his first deputy, Thornclaw as the second after Hollyleaf spilled a secret, and the young prodigy vanished into the tunnels for many years. A third cat of great prophecy was born to her brother.

See: Hollyleaf, just, this whole post

Eclipse Era

Uniting a group of cats with almost nothing in common, Tigerstar planned to usurp StarClan and become the new deities of the four Clans. He relied heavily on his son, Hawkfrost, to be his diplomat and keep the unstable alliance together just long enough to accomplish his goals.

Lionblaze and Jayfeather learned there was a plot, but didn't know how to infiltrate it. Lionblaze sent his daughter, Ivypool, in to spy on the demons and their schemes. Hawkfrost became her Dark Forest mentor.

The Dark Forest plan: replace every cat in power with a trainee before the night of the True Eclipse, to make their takeover easier. Simple enough. Harder was coordinating a bunch of trainees with completely different motivations.

See: Motivations of Dark Forest trainees

Firestar and Brackenfur were first. Sedgecreek and Mistystar, Ashfoot and Onestar, Russetfur and Blackstar were next.

The Dark Forest succeeded in pitting ThunderClan and ShadowClan against each other, thanks to deputy Thornclaw's influence. After the death of Russetfur, Blackstar was absolutely devastated and prone to Sol's influence. This was ShadowClan's first collapse, but unfortunately, not its last.

Redwillow, Ratscar, and Applefur took power of the Clan in his absence, and leas to bloody infighting as they tried to hold onto it. It was Rowanclaw rallying Blackstar's family to remind him of how loved he was that brought him back around, calling forth enough manpower to overthrow the trainees and take ShadowClan back.

Just before the Eclipse was about to commence, Hollyleaf returned just in time to fight for her family.

Thanks to the information of cats like Ivypool, the Clans were able to prepare for the Night of the True Eclipse. Unfortunately, the days of the Homing Era were gone, and they had a hard time uniting as a front. While ShadowClan and ThunderClan were able to rally and limit their losses, WindClan and RiverClan remained individual targets.

Dovewing lead a coalition of cats to counter the Dark Forest wherever they attacked, her father Lionblaze trailing just behind. Jayfeather used his powers to summon cats from StarClan itself, using a stick stolen from Rock to resurrect a tree and pull down as many angels as could fit on its branches.

Though outnumbered and losing, Tigerstar had vowed to go out in a blaze of glory. Scourge under his left claws and Blackstar bleeding out a life to the right, Firestar himself came in to settle the score with his old foe.

Modern Period (2018 - Today)

Reunion Era

ThunderClan's Tempest

Heartstar's Rise

Following the terrible carnage of the Great Battle, a grand storm blew through the lake and brought flooding unlike anything ever seen before. In the aftermath, many of ShadowClan's carefully managed projects took a beating.

The other Clans were reluctant to lend their aid, in contrast to the peace and cooperation of the Homing Era. Frustrated by ShadowClan's first collapse and the lack of help they were receiving now, the youngest generation was desperate for radical change. Many of the dejected cats around the lake agreed, Dark Forest trainees, halfclan cats and lovers, codebreakers, and so on.

They were co-opted by a terrible actor. Darktail had infiltrated SkyClan, many miles away, and exploited their internal divisions. Sharpclaw, Rockshade, and cats like them joined his cause, and SkyClan had fled in the chaos. He offered his help to the struggling ShadowClan, and any Clan cats seeking a safe haven. Breezepelt and his fellow ex-trainees were some of them.

"Nevermind your borders and your battles and your bloodlines," Darktail announced, "We will all be the Kin." Slowly, each of these things he spoke against became central to his movement.

WindClan, lead by Onestar, reacted severely. He put a complete embargo on any Clan lending aid, even denying them medicine during a terrible outbreak of Yellowcough. When ShadowClan fell apart, the Kin absorbed it completely and became an unstoppable force.

Heathertail couldn't handle the horrible cruelty of her father, and joined them hoping to get her half-brother's side of the story.

This was when The Kin started expanding, targeting their neighbors for territory. It was only through the return of SkyClan that the cult was able to be defeated, and because of their role in the final confrontation, it was agreed they had a claim to the Lake.

In memory of the conflict, and with respect to the destroyed ShadowClan, a new commandment was added to the code. The Law of the Lake demands that in times of stress, no Clan may allow another to falter and disband.

Rowanstar intended to live the last of his days in shame, having watched Dawnpelt die, his Clan disband, and Tigerheart vanish. Tigerheart returned only to die in a horrible accident, and Rowan refused to watch his last child be taken from him.

Drowning away his lives in the Moonpool so Heartstar could rise, the Era ends with the resurrection of ShadowClan.

Reckoning Era

Squirrelflight's Horror

Tawnypelt's Mountain

Ferncloud's Parting

SkyClan joining the lake and ShadowClan reforming caused struggles for territory. It was already a tight squeeze for ShadowClan before they joined, and accommodating an extra Clan would require careful diplomacy.

Unfortunately, Bramblestar had other plans. It got into his head that his deputy, Squirrelflight, was undermining him and he played a pointless game with his power. Joining Heartstar in an ill-fated invasion on a nomadic group, ThunderClan lost the respected senior Cleric and discoverer of the Moonpool, Leafpool.

But in those days, there was nothing that could be done about a bad leader besides violent revolution. Any telling of this era of history starts with these events, to establish why ThunderClan did not quickly realize their leader had been replaced by an Impostor only a few moons later, and why they didn't immediately do anything about it.

This impostor's first action was to announce his plans at a peaceful gathering. While losing a life, StarClan had told him they were disappointed and furious at the lack of a reckoning for the cats who had been disloyal in the previous two eras. HalfClan cats, insurgents, and other Codebreakers must be punished and brought in line, to return the Clans to a better time.

Most leaders agreed with this sentiment, and loosely implemented tests of loyalty. It wasn't enough for the Imposter, who was particularly insulted by Bristlefrost codebreaking within his own Clan to see Rootspring of SkyClan.

So at the next gathering, he called together the five Clans, implored them one more time to truly punish their Codebreakers or else StarClan would never come back, and finished his speech by ripping open Bristlefrost's neck.

Over the screams of the crowd, the full, uncovered moon shined bright. He pointed up with his bloodied paw, citing its light as StarClan's approval.

It wasn't the first time an unblemished moon meant cruelty, and SkyClan refused to be part of this evil game. Conflict escalated into a full-blown civil war, leading to scores of dead cats, and the eventual cornering of the Impostor.

When he escaped into the Dark Forest with the ghosts of the fallen kept hostage, Squirrelflight organized a final push to free those who were trapped. These cats came to be known as Lights in the Mist:

Harelight (then called Harefur) and Mistystar of RiverClan

Ivypool and Ferncloud of ThunderClan

Rootspring and MacGyver of SkyClan

Shadowsight and Flowerscar of ShadowClan

Breezepelt and Leaftail of WindClan... after Breezepelt conked Crowfeather over the noggin to forcefully take his spot.

(Exact cats liable to change, particularly MacGyver, Flowerscar, and Leaftail)

In the final confrontation, Ashfur revealed his special powers, having killed and absorbed the ancient spirit Clear Sky as well as several other demons and angels. He was too powerful to defeat, in spite of the combined efforts of the Dark Forest, StarClan, and the Lights in the Mist. In a final, grand effort, Shadowsight used a lightning bolt coursing through his veins to hold the monster down, and Bristlefrost sacrificed her life and eternity knocking Ashfur out of the sky like a falling star.

They crashed to Earth as a pair of asteroids, leaving a crater that became a small pool on SkyClan's border.

This fight destroyed a region of StarClan, an in-between area known as the Meadow of Young Stars. Now a shattered plain unable to separate the Place of No Stars from Silverpelt, A guard defends the single unstable bridge between the lands.

See: StarClan 101

~Current Day~

Ferncloud died tragically after confronting her brother on that fateful mission, and ThunderClan mourns its educator. In respect and heartbreak, its elders have hesitated in choosing a new cat for this role.

With two Eras behind them, the Clans have been loosely speculating what the new name for this Period will become, what its theme will be. There's no way to know until it happens... and it's not as if all the Clans agree on where exactly the times begin and end.

In the meanwhile, a new commandment has been added to the code. It's called Bristlefrost's Law, and for the first time, there is now an official system for changing Clans to be with a mate or a partner. Not all like this change-- some call these cats 'Turnclaws,' and didn't think there was a problem with the way things were.

Bramblestar has been tired since his ordeal, and ThunderClan is hoping he will step down soon. Mistystar has also been slow and aching, but her son Reedwhisker is a fine deputy, and he will make a fine leader as well.

The Clans have gone through a hard time, but there seems to finally be a light at the end of the- oh hey what's Splashtail up to

#Better Bones au #BB!History Lesson #BBAU #warrior cats au #ITS DONE #NEW HISTORY LESSON #BIGGER AND MEATIER THAN THE LAST #BEE HOLD #IM LOSING MY MIND

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