#like 'i beat you now you can repent'

[sapphire-weapon]

I’m about to vomit out a bunch of thoughts, and I’m not sure any of this is going to make sense by the end, but. I’ve been thinking a LOT about these three lines in RE4make:

“You haven’t changed. You just think you have.”

“You can’t save her. You can’t save anyone.”

“This time, it has to be different...”

I’ve seen people focus in on that Krauser line and tie it directly back to Sherry, which is cool! Even as recently as five years ago, people completely glossed over Sherry’s impact on Leon’s life, and it’s cool that the remakes have had people digging into his character and realizing “oh shit, literally everything that happens to him after RE2 is because of his paternal love for Sherry.”

But... Krauser’s line is about more than just her.

With the remake turning Krauser into Leon’s combat trainer, chances are he knows about everything that happened in Raccoon City. And I don’t mean, like. He read a government file. Leon probably told him.

In OG, Krauser and Leon have this exchange of dialogue:

Krauser: “What is it that you fight for, comrade?” Leon: “My past, I suppose.” Krauser: “Hmph. Umbrella.”

It was axed completely from the remake, because it doesn’t make sense for it to happen in the remake. If Krauser was Leon’s trainer, that question was probably asked very early in their relationship. And since they weren’t currently in a fight to the death, and because they weren’t already six years removed from Raccoon City, chances are, Leon’s answer was a bit more involved than just “my past.”

So, let’s back up a little bit. In RE2make, they basically turned Kendo into a completely different character. OG Kendo was literally just there to point a shotgun at Leon and/or Claire and then go “oh my bad you’re not a zombie” and hook them up with some guns before he gets eaten. In RE2make, he’s a desperate and terrified father just trying to spend his last few moments with his infected 6 or 7 year old daughter before she turns. After he shuts the door on Leon and Ada, Leon turns to Ada and says, “Protecting people like that is why I joined the force.”

But Leon doesn’t protect or save Kendo or his daughter. He doesn’t protect or save... anyone. Every single person that Leon comes into contact with and tries to save dies horrifically -- and some, he even has to kill, himself (Marvin Branaugh). The only people who make it out of Raccoon City alive are people who saved themselves (Claire and Ada).

Of course, there is Sherry. But Leon didn’t save Sherry; Claire did. ESPECIALLY in remake canon, since nearly all of Leon’s scenes with Sherry got severely shortened or removed completely in RE2make.

But then, when Claire entrusts Sherry to Leon’s care (on his own insistence, per her RE3 epilogue), he goes and fucks that up, too. Gets her kidnapped and held hostage indefinitely by the federal government, and the only thing he can do about it is do exactly as they say and just hope they keep their end of the bargain and not hurt her.

So, when Krauser says “You can’t save anyone,” he means anyone. Ever. And even up to that point in RE4... Leon got the two officers who drove him into town killed, and he watched Luis die a slow, agonizing death right in front of him. And then, past that point, Leon has to kill Krauser with his own hands. Then he watches Mike die.

Ashley is literally Leon’s first and only success story, up to this point in canon. (And even when you go all the way up to current-day canon, Ashley is one of... three? People? I can think of? Total? Who Leon actually saves?)

So, Leon saying, “This time, it has to be different,” he doesn’t just mean Sherry. He means Ada. He means Kendo. He means Marvin. He means the entirety of Raccoon City. He’s staring down a repeat of what happened back then, not in terms of the bioterror situation, but in terms of his own personal failures. His survivor’s guilt. He can’t handle the thought that he’ll be the only person to walk away again -- and he refuses to be.

And that’s why Ada’s line bothers me so fucking much.

I mean, first of all -- Ada, you haven’t seen this man in six years, and you’ve spent a total of like five minutes with him since meeting up with him again here, so how the fuck would you even know -- but even aside from that...

To be clear: she’s right.

But she’s also wrong.

Leon has changed -- to an extent. In RE2 (OG or remake), Leon honestly believed that if it was lawful, then it was also morally right. He doesn’t believe that anymore. There’s no more “letting the law sort it out” or trusting in the power of authority for him anymore. His moral compass has been boiled down to: “If you hurt or murder innocent people, you’re a fucking asshole, and I don’t really care who you are, I’ll kill you myself.”

RE2 Leon was willing to hear people out and give them an honest benefit of the doubt -- even Annette Birkin. RE4 Leon just tells people to shut the fuck up before opening fire.

RE2 Leon was honest and trusting to a fault, and he felt stronger as part of a team. RE4 Leon is suspicious almost to the point of paranoia, and he just wants to be left the fuck alone to do his job.

These are all things that were really important to who Leon was in Raccoon City, and they’re reasons why things turned out the way they did for him, back then.

But at the same time, Ada’s right in saying that, at the core of it all, Leon is still that kind-hearted, decent guy who just wants the good guys to win and the bad guys to lose. That’s why it hits him somewhere sensitive when Krauser says: “You can’t save anyone.” 

It’s just that, now, the way he approaches it is different. His outlook on life in terms of his goals is different. His expectations for it have changed.

So, if Leon had been smarter/wittier, he absolutely could have turned it around on her and said: “No, I’ve definitely changed. You just think I haven’t.”

And not only would that sound threatening as fuck, he’d also be right. They both would be, at that point.

And for all of those major parts of him to have changed and still be facing down the possibility of failing every single person he comes across, especially Ashley...

"This time, it has to be different.”

And this time, it was.

#resident evil 4 #leon kennedy #meta analysis #and it WOULDN'T have been different if leon hadn't changed #could you imagine how RE4 would've ended if leon was still his RE2 self and tried to apprehend krauser instead of killing him #or like give him a second chance #like 'i beat you now you can repent' #fucking LUL #that's how you fucking die comrade #unfortunately leon succeeding in RE4 also taught him to emotionally close himself off and push everyone away #classical conditioning and all that #but that's a separate post for a separate time #if they ever remake RE6 watch me clown honk my way through leon and sherry's fucked up relationship #claire goes to see sherry regularly and leon admits out loud he hasn't even spoken to her in at least 3 years #and then chokes up with tears when he finally sees her again #smfh he's so fucking stupid #leon if you can't cope with your trauma properly then just shut up and keep drinking god i can't stand you #one day i'll also write a big post about leon's suicidal ideation #today is not that day #but one day

[yeslordmyking]

If You Return to Sin After Being Delivered From It, Your Punishment Will Be Worse

2 Peter 2:20-22

[20]For if after they have escaped the pollutions of the world through the knowledge of the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, they are again entangled therein, and overcome, the latter end is worse with them than the beginning.

[21]For it had been better for them not to have known the way of righteousness, than, after they have known it, to turn from the holy commandment delivered unto them.

[22]But it is happened unto them according to the true proverb, The dog is turned to his own vomit again; and the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire.

To learn something is sinful and to turn and repent of it, but then return to that sin is like a dog returning to it's vomit. It's better not to know something is sinful than to learn it's sinful and return to it after God has delivered you. Don't return to your wickedness, no matter how hard it is to be righteous. Ask God and the Holy Spirit for strength to walk in rightstanding with Him and not fall weak to flesh.

I know we can't be sinless, I know it takes time to change your lifestyle from habits and wordly mindsets, but in the end there's no excuses for knowledgeably sinning than to admit selfishness, wickedness, and to know eternal punishment is the result of such ignorant defiance of the Lord. Prayers that I myself, the lost and unsaved, and other brothers and sisters in Christ, completely turn from sin and backsliding. No matter how much it "made us happy", "satisfied us", seemed "harmless" to our souls, or how "miserable" we feel without it. Firstly God is the only thing that can actually make us happy and anything else is deception by our flesh. Secondly, we should rather prefer misery and holy suffering in our temporary lives far more than anything that risks the reward of eternal suffering and damnation. You don't have to be happy, you just have to obey God's commands and be holy. Maybe choosing that will have God bless us with happiness we don't see coming until we're truly righteous. I pray we forsake feelings and emotions, and only act out of holiness righteousness and purity.

#and maaaaaybe i condemn things that aren't actually unholy and sinful like loving fashion or watching superhero cartoons #but at this point if it even has a chance of becoming something i love more than God i completely drop it #i dream of nothing and want nothing and pursue nothing unless it's directly related to serving God #and yeah i'm sad that i can't return to watching sinful youtubers and movies or listening to 80s music and kpop because they're fun #i want to have fun. i want to be able to enjoy life without breaking into a cold sweat that God hates everything i enjoy and care about #but I should do what He commands even if it doesn't satisfy me the way i »think« temporary hobbies and dreams do #there's nothing in this world for us. we just think there is #forsake it all and be a vessel to bring souls to Christ. eternal salvation beats any happiness and satisfaction in this life. i can do it. #not suggesting everyone has to do what I'm doing but if you're attached to meaningless things that won't get you to heaven... let it go #boohoo poor widdle evil wordly me has a sad blah blah blah blah blah k i'm done trying to justify my wickedness now sorry bye 🫣 #God #Jesus #christianity #faith #turn from sin to God #repent of your sins #do not return to sin #forsake worldliness #forsake the world #hate all sin #deny flesh #deny self #be holy not happy #you don't have a life. you have a purpose #there is nothing but God #you are a sinner #you are wicked #bible study #bible verses #may it please the Lord

[reiniesainyo]

IN BETWEEN. charlie bushnell x reader – 02

02 | WELCOME TO NY previous | next | masterfile

SYNPOSIS. when a girl's co-star is good to her and now she wants it more than everything in between. (smau)

A/N. wow actual content who knew! i give some tidbits about rina and lukes dynamic as well for funsies (takes place at the start of the season premiere to probably episode 4-5 ish)

liked by iamcharliebushnell, walker.scobell, and 322,778 others thelnarchive best people to star in my first show with actually

walker.scobell pov: you at the end of this sentence 🤓👆 ↳ thelnarchive that** ↳ leahsavajeffries destroyed him with one word that's insane

user1 she's so gorgeous it's killing me

user2 her photo dumps are so cute it's so RAHHHHH ↳ user3 thank you yn for keeping us fed

iamcharliebushnell no photo creds? thats crazy...... ↳ thelnarchive 📸: charlie bushnell  ↳ iamcharliebushnell thank you 😁

user4 she's so pretty, i would go to hell and back for her. she could be sent to the underworld and i would go and traverse the entire underworld for her and bring her back, have hades let me walk out with her only if i don't turn my back and bet you baby i'm no orpheus because you're coming home ↳ user5 this is so real but also what the fuck

dior.n.goodjohn PRETTIEST IN CAMP HALFBLOOD ↳ thelnarchive NO YOU!

iamcharliebushnell for everyone's information, she yapped for like the 2 hour makeup and hair session ↳ thelnarchive you weren't interested in the cultural impact of feminist retellings of mythology? 😔 ↳ iamcharliebushnell i didn't say i didn't listen to every bit

user6 yn ln being a yapper and charlie being a listener was not in my 2024 bingo card but it is pleasantly accepted ↳ user7 the chemistry is kind of crazy

bellie 💋 @G1LLMOREGRLS theres like less than 3 minutes of luke and rina screen time but the way they look at each other is insane. ik luke visiting rina before leaving was implied and like them him contacting her even after the attempt too i still want to see some because the potential angst is so insane 🗨 19 comments 🔁 129 retweets ❤️ 707 likes

user1 "i lost luke three times in my life." if they remove this it better be for something even more heartbreaking

user2 honestly truth i'm manifesting so hard to see some of their iris messages like i can just imagine it ↳ G1LLMOREGRLS oh my fucking god that's so true, i want to see luke begging her to come with him and then her begging him to change his mind

user3 i want the new seasons to come sooner because i trust in rick's capability to give us what we want 💳💳💳 ↳ user4 i trust in the editor's to make what rick gives us even better brah ↳ user5 what if i said lascotellan to a hozier song

user6 the show ate with levitating as the replacement for poker face in e6 so i'm expecting a tragic song for their scenes too ↳ G1LLMOREGRLS dare i say we get a scene of luke regretting his actions juxtaposed with a scene of him and rina arguing with her telling him to silver springs by fleetwood mac ↳ user6 LUKE AND RINA ARGUING OVER HIS ACTIONS TO SILVER SPRINGS. YOU'RE A FUCKING GENIUS OOMF ↳ G1LLMOREGRLS luke thinking about her constantly when he thinks abt why he shouldn't have done it is so "you'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you"????

user7 YOU'RE SO CORRECT FOR THIS ‼️‼️ i'm so insane over them, tragic greek couple of the century

user8 i fear no one will ever beat rina saying she wanted to go to the underworld to get him back but deciding not to and letting him repent in elysium or try for reincarnation

liked by thelnarchives, dior.n.goodjohn, and 350,232 others iamcharliebushnell hanging out with the muse

thelnarchives you call me "the muse" so often i'm starting to think you don't know my first name anymore.... 🤨🤨🤨 ↳ iamcharliebushnell 😔 i would never do that to you muse ↳ thelnarchives i'm gonna start calling you traitor. ↳ user1 wat why would she call him traitor ↳ user2 oh you sweet summer child

user3 picture 3 is so cute i love her so much !!! and charlie's there too i guess

dior.n.goodjohn why are you hanging out with MY girlfriend ↳ iamcharliebushnell you snooze you lose :/

walker.scobell you owe me like 2 meals from our past bets and you keep saying your busy but obviously you're not??? ↳ iamcharliebushnell hanging out with the muse is a trip priority, man 🤷

user4 i'm obsessed with how charlie calls her muse they're so i want to Bite them. ↳ user5 he ate with the pet name

user6 that's actually me in the second photo guys

user7 WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT HER HAND PLACEMENT IN THE THIRD PHOTO??? ↳ user8 girlie's just scratching her own cat

#luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson imagines #percy jackson and the olympians imagines #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy series #pjo #pjo series #pjotv #heroes of olympus #luke castellan #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell imagines #smau #pjo smau #pjo tv show #percy jackson tv show #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson smau #pjo au

[kurtie4life96]

Song request: im afraid to go to heaven with Eddie but make it sexy PLEASE

I'm Afraid I'll Go To Heaven

E.M. × F! Reader

Summary: Eddie is sick and tired of being called a "Satanist". Maybe his best girl friend can help him relieve that frustration.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, dom!Eddie, sub!reader, graphic, rough sex, unprotected sex, a bit of ritualistic sex, choking, BLOOD play, KNIFE play, exhibitionism, spitting, handcuffs, masochism/sadism, oral (f receiving), anti-christianity, Christian protesters, smoking

THIS IS VERY ANTI RELIGIOUS/CHRISTIANITY. DO NOT READ IF THAT'S OFFENSIVE TO YOU. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

"Here we go again." Eddie mumbled through gritted teeth.

You sat in the passenger seat of his van as he turned into the trailer park, a swarm of angry protesters with picket signs shouting at the two of you, scattered across the front of his house.

"The cops won't do anything?" You asked, sighing out of frustration.

He laughed, motioning towards the protesters, "Nope. Why should they, anyway? I am part of the satanic panic, after all."

After the events of the Upside Down and Eddie almost dying, he was nearly charged for the murders that Vecna had committed. Miraculously, Hopper had managed to clear his name, placing the blame on Jason, as he was there when Patrick died, mercilessly bullied Fred, and his girlfriend was Chrissy. Plus, Jason was now dead. It was all too easy.

But the people of Hawkins still weren't convinced, still called Eddie a murderer, a Satanist, a devil worshipper.

They protested at Hawkins High, his graduation, even going as far to protest outside of his house.

The crowd slowly started to dissipate after a few months, but they were still relentless, calling him a sinner, a murderer, telling him he was going to burn in hell, to repent.

You had tried to protect your friend from these people. You'd screamed at them, threw trash at them, stuck by his side.

But Eddie was still miserable. And they were never going to stop.

Eddie pulled up in front of his trailer, parking and turning his van off. People began to surround it immediately, yelling at him, perhaps the both of you, holding up picket signs with some of the most vile words on them you'd ever seen.

He ran his hands through his hair, agitated, and punched the steering wheel suddenly, cursing to himself.

You reached your hand out to gently hold his, an attempt to calm him down, "We just have to ignore them and go inside."

Eddie snatched his hand away from yours, hurting your feelings a little, but you understood his anger, not taking it too personally.

"I'm sick of just ignoring them!" He exclaimed, wide-eyed, "I know that's what Hopper said to do, but I can't do it anymore, I just- I can't do it!"

He opened the car door and you quickly followed, rushing towards him as he confronted one of the middle-aged, bearded protesters, getting in the man's face.

"You need to repent, young man," he started, "if you want to live forever, be with loved ones in Heaven, you must confess-"

"I don't wanna live forever!" Eddie shouted, taking an even closer step towards him, making the man stumble back a bit.

"You're going to burn in hell-"

"Then so be it!" Eddie smiled maniacally, throwing his hands up in the air, turning around to face the crowd, "I don't want to go to Heaven, I'm afraid to go to Heaven!"

You looked to the crowd, worried, as they began to argue with him, but Eddie cut them off quickly.

"I'm not afraid of a so-called Devil, or- Satan, I'm afraid of being around people like you forever!" He paused to laugh again, screaming, "It's like me- people like me, are your only entertainment in this shitty town now!"

Eddie snatched a picket fence from a nearby protester, smashing it on the gravel, and throwing the broken wooden stick on the ground with an audible, frustrated groan.

The people went nearly silent for a moment, only quietly murmuring amongst themselves as your heart beat rapidly, waiting for Eddie's monologue to end.

"Whatever is waiting for me on the other side, I'm sure it's better than being around you Bible fucking, no spined, fiction loving fucking sheep!"

He was panting heavily now, turning red from rage as the silence continued. You grabbed his arm, giving it a gentle tug.

"C'mon Eddie, let's go inside now." You urged him with a soft, quiet voice.

"Yeah," he announced loudly, still glaring at the crowd, "let's go inside."

You both began to walk up the steps to the front door, Eddie turning towards them again for a moment to throw up his infamous devil horns, before flipping them off.

You walked in first, him slamming the front door behind him.

"You okay?" You turned to him, an empathetic, yet worried look on your face.

"Yeah," he let out a breathy chuckle, "yeah, I'm okay. Are you okay?"

You nodded, giving him a half smile, "Yeah."

Eddie sat down on the couch, sinking into it with a big sigh, fumbling with his rings, chewing on his lip as he stared off into space for a moment.

Little did he know how much your nerves were on fire, from the adrenaline and excitement you felt watching him get angry, snapping at the crowd and losing it a bit.

Watching him yell at the protesters, smash that sign, the way he stood up for himself, put those awful people in their place, it had butterflies filling your stomach, it made your face feel a little too hot. It didn't help that he was in a bad mood, that he was twirling his metal rings on his fingers.

Sure, you'd had a bit of a crush on Eddie of course, especially after his bravery fighting the demo bats, but you hadn't acted on your feelings. It wasn't the right time. He was going through too much, and the two of you had been close friends for years.

Eddie must have noticed you staring off into space too- or more so, staring at his hands, because he had said your name three times before he got your attention.

You perked up, coming back to reality and grinned awkwardly at him, playing with your hair anxiously.

"Sorry, what?"

He looked at you questioningly, like he was trying to read you, one of his hands gesturing towards the seat next to him, "I said, come sit."

"Oh, yeah, of course," you walked over towards the couch, sitting down next to him, feeling unable to relax.

"Smoke?" Eddie held up two cigarettes and a lighter, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, sure, thanks." You grabbed one from his fingers, staring at them a little too long again.

You put it between your lips, patting your pockets to look for your own lighter.

"Uh-uh," Eddie scolded you, putting his own cigarette between his lips, lighting yours and then his own, taking a long drag, "pretty girls don't light their own cigarettes."

You took a drag and smiled ear to ear, scooting closer to him until your thigh was touching his, shoving his shoulder playfully, "I've heard that one a few times now, Munson."

"Don't act like you don't like hearing it, though." He chuckled, then stopped, his smile fading away as he heard the faint voices from the protesters still outside.

"Fuckers," he spat, taking another long drag, "they're never going to leave me alone. They'll never leave you or Wayne alone, either. Not til' we leave the damn country or some shit."

"Yeah, probably not." You responded quietly, pursing your lips together, staring at your cigarette.

The both of you sat in silence for a few moments, deep in thought, watching the smoke circle around in the sunlight coming in through the blinds.

"What if there was another way?" You glanced over at him, asking nervously.

"What do you mean?" Eddie gave you a perplexed look.

"What if," you sighed, putting out your cigarette, your heart beginning to beat hard against your chest, "What if there was just... another way?"

"I'm not gonna 'repent for my sins', if that's what you're saying-"

"No, no," you shook your head, "fuck that, hell no. I mean... what if we scared them? Like... enough to make them go away? Leave you alone?"

"How?" Eddie scoffed, taking another puff of his cigarette before reaching his hand towards the ashtray to put it out.

"Hold on," you grabbed his arm abruptly, stopping him, your breathing shaky.

"What're you..." He trailed off, shifting in his seat.

You grasped his hand, keeping eye contact with him, as you slowly moved it towards the back of your forearm.

Eddie screwed his eyebrows together, in disbelief, as your forced his fingers on your forearm, putting his cigarette out on your skin.

You gasped in pain and hissed, your skin seering, before Eddie yanked his arm back, throwing it into the ashtray and grabbing your arm, inspecting the burn.

"What the fuck? Why would you do that? Are you okay? Jesus Christ, why? Why did you do that-"

"Eddie," you said his name softly, like a prayer, "Eddie... if it's okay, we should scare them."

He paused for a moment, still holding your arm, before responding, "What are you proposing?"

"I'm proposing," you took a deep breath, looking into his eyes, "we could make a mess. A mess that'll scare them for life."

Eddie raised an eyebrow at you, looking intrigued, pressing the pad of his thumb into your skin.

"What kind of mess?"

"Eddie, I like you. I know it's not the best time to tell you that, but you don't have to like me back," you continued to ramble, "I know the things you like to do when you're... having fun. You've told me. And I like the same things too, sometimes."

Eddie stared at you intently, leaning closer towards you, motioning for you to continue, "Go on, I'm listening."

You sighed, "You could use me, if you want, we could make a big scene, you know, scare them off, but only if you want to, you can say no-"

He interrupted you by grabbing both sides of your face, his rings cold against your skin as he crashed his lips onto yours, leaning into you as much as he could. Your body froze for a second, in shock, but you quickly kissed him back, resting your hands on his shoulders and humming contently.

"Oh, sweetheart, my pretty angel," Eddie broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours, his lips grazing your own as he spoke softly, "I thought you'd never ask."

"Really?" You pulled back and looked into his dark eyes.

"Really." His lips curled in a smile, then slowly faded as he asked, "Are you sure that's what you want? Because- I could really hurt you."

You nodded eagerly, "Yes, yeah, it's what I want. It's what I want with you."

"Okay," Eddie sighed, sitting upright as he looked down at you, "but if it gets to be too much, tell me. There's... a lot of weird things I'd want to do with you."

You sat on your knees, gazing up at him, almost as if you were worshipping him. His beautiful brown eyes, his long, frizzy dark hair framing his face just right, his clothes, his plump lips making you feel intoxicated.

"Eddie," you assured him softly, reaching a hand towards his hair, brushing it with your fingers, "nothing is gonna be too much. I like weird. And with these insane assholes outside," you looked towards the window, "how about we make it fun? Like you said... we're just entertainment. Let's put on a show."

He stared down at you, breathless, his heart racing, feeling absolutely feral- a mixture of his anger, excitement, and the sight of you fully giving yourself to him.

Eddie looked over to the window above you that faced the front yard, the crowd still there shouting, and he opened the blinds, staring outside with a sinister smile.

There was a moment of quiet between the two of you, the air thick with tension and anticipation, as you gazed at each other with locked eyes, before Eddie crashed his lips against yours again, much harder this time as he grabbed your hair to yank your head back, his other hand gently cradling the side of your neck.

You moaned into each other's mouths lightly, the kisses increasingly becoming faster, animalistic, carnal, not being able to get enough of each other. You both panted heavily between kisses as you smoothed your hands down his sides, then sliding them under his shirt to feel his scars and soft skin.

Eddie slid his tongue across your bottom lip languid, feeling like silk, the taste of him silencing all of your thoughts as you licked into each other's mouths feverishly, deeply, him tasting sweet like cherry coke- before he bit down on it, hard.

Normally this action would make someone gasp, yelp, cry even- but not you. You sighed contently as Eddie sucked on your bleeding lip, then sat upright again to look down on you, as if he was a God.

"Open." He commanded in a low voice.

You did as you were told, knowing what was coming next. He spat your blood back into your mouth, the taste of iron flooding your senses. You swallowed, licking your injured lip before he could tell you to do so.

"Fuck," Eddie groaned, "you are fucking unreal."

He stood up from the couch suddenly, and before you could question him, he grabbed your ass and lifted you up, setting you down harshly on the top of the couch, your back facing the window.

"I can't wait to put bruises all over this pretty skin." He rasped.

He lifted your shirt up eagerly, pulling it off of you and tossing it to the side.

"No bra, huh?" He smirked.

Before you could respond, Eddie went straight for your jawline, at first kissing it sloppily, then getting greedy, sucking and biting on your skin brutally, as he palmed your breasts, groping them and pinching your nipples, making you gasp and arch into him, his hair tickling your shoulder.

He made his descent down your neck and chest, sucking your delicate skin so harshly it began to bleed as you huffed and raked your fingers through his hair and tugged, wrapping your legs around him, silently asking him for more.

He licked down slowly between your breasts, keeping eye contact with you, then took one into his mouth, kissing and swirling around his tongue.

"Eddie, please," you whimpered, still tasting iron, "more..."

"More what, pretty girl?" He asked in a husky voice.

"Just... more," you whined, "just- I want you!"

"Fuck," he moaned lowly.

He pulled down your pants and panties off your hips and legs frantically, but swiftly, throwing them to the side with your shirt.

Eddie stood back for a moment, admiring your now nearly naked body with hungry eyes- the only garment still on you being your slouch socks, your bare ass pressed up to the window, as you gazed at his lithe figure.

"Open your legs." He gently demanded.

You did as you were told, and he breathed out a shaky exhale as he gazed at your heat.

He looked up towards your face again, your bleeding bruises, your bloodied lip with hooded, unholy eyes.

You grasped the back of the couch with both hands, leaning your head back, and let out a desperate sigh.

"Eddie-"

He kneeled on the couch quickly, spreading your thighs apart, then sliding two fingers along your soaked lips, and began to move his tongue along your clit messy and rapidly, lapping at your heat with a heavy tongue that somehow felt like velvet.

You cried out a mixture of his name and expletives as euphoria gripped your body, arching into his mouth and your muscles tightening.

"Eddie," you cried, "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god-"

He slipped two fingers into you easily, curling them harshly, you feeling his rings at your entrance.

You gasped at the action, raking your hands through his hair, and you felt him smirk against your wet heat as he began to snake his other hand up your bare chest.

You needed more of him, so much more, and you grabbed his wrist, beginning to guide it towards your neck.

Eddie instantly got the hint, and wrapped his big hand around your throat, pressing his fingers into the sides of your neck.

You groaned in pleasure as blood ceased to travel to your brain, ecstacy taking over every inch of your body as your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he continued to savor you relentlessly.

"Harder," you managed to choke out, "please, harder-"

He moaned against you at your request and squeezed harder, making you see stars.

Your skin was on fire as you began to lose composure, and the world crashed around you, the strongest orgasm you've ever felt hitting its peak as you tried to moan, but your voice was strained.

Eddie continued to work you through your high, then kissed your sensitive nub, making you twitch before pulling back, his mouth slightly agape and wet with your slick as the both of you panted. He licked his lips and leaned towards you, kissing you gingerly as you tasted yourself on your tongue, then he promptly bit your lip again, reopening your wound.

"You look so hot when you're bleeding," he huffed against your mouth.

You gripped his shirt with one hand, then reached towards his hard, aching length with the other, making him groan.

"Eddie," you mumbled, "please, take them off, let me-"

"Next time, baby," he assured you, "next time. The sun is gonna go down. We need to hurry."

Your stomach fluttered at his words, 'next time', as you watched him take off his jacket and shirt swiftly, then pulling down his pants and checkered boxers, letting his cock free.

You stared at his length with wide eyes. You knew he would be a little big, but he was larger than you'd imagined. Your mouth nearly watered at the sight. You then watched him lean down to pull something out of his jean pockets.

Eddie stood up, holding up his switchblade, the sharp tip of it shining as he gazed at you intently.

"Do you trust me?" He asked.

"Yes," you whispered.

"Give me your hand."

You reached your arm out to him, excitement and nervousness bursting in your abdomen.

"This is gonna hurt, okay?"

You softly smiled and nodded, "Okay."

He grabbed your wrist, pressing the blade into your palm and quickly slashing a line into it, blood beginning to pool in your hand immediately. You winced at the pain, but gave him a hum of agreement.

Nodding at you, Eddie took to his own hand, slicing it the same way he did to yours, blood dripping through his fingers.

He threw the knife to the side before intertwining his fingers with yours, pressing your bleeding wounds together, then grabbed the back of your head, leaning in to kiss you passionately.

He pulled back, and took to your chest, smearing the mixture of each others blood all over your neck and breasts, his eyes seemingly turned black.

You whimpered at the sight, but were pleasantly surprised by how much it turned you on, rubbing your thighs together for some friction as your core ached.

"Turn around." Eddie instructed you, grasping your thigh, motioning for you to turn over.

With a sharp inhale and exhale, you turned around, knees on the seats of the couch, hands grabbing the back of couch, as you looked out the window, the crowd of people still outside now looking back at you in horror.

You smirked at them maliciously, wiping your face, smearing it with more blood to terrify them even more.

Eddie groaned at the action and kissed your lower back, squeezing your ass, taking his length into his hand.

"You're the most beautiful thing that's ever happened to me. And I'm gonna ruin you."

"Do it, Eddie," you whispered.

He lined his tip with your entrance, then gripped your hips harshly, slamming all the way into you with ease, bottoming out.

You both gasped loudly in unison, his cock stretching you out in a way that could only be described as perfect.

"You're so tight, fuck, you're gonna kill me baby." He groaned.

Eddie began to set a slow, but harsh pace, pounding into you deeply as you pushed back against his thrusts. It felt so much like Heaven, that you nearly forgot what you needed to do.

As he continued to snap his hips into yours harshly, you squeezed your wounded hand, collecting more blood in your palm, and dripped it onto the window, smearing it between his thrusts until you were satisfied that it was covered.

He began to fuck into you faster, hitting your cervix every time, as you began your work on the window, drawing a sloppy, inverted pentagram with your fingertips through the blood, the both of you cursing and moaning each other's names.

The crowd outside was horrified at the sight of your bloodied chest, the bloodied window, and the symbol you drew, making them leave the property rapidly in terror, like a bat out of hell.

You arched your back even more, goosebumps spreading across your skin as you both moaned, Eddie still fucking into you, raking his fingernails on your back, leaving behind a pattern of scratches.

Once you'd noticed that the voices outside had disappeared, you wiped your uninjured hand on the fogged, bloody glass, peering out the window.

"Eddie, fuck," you stammered between his thrusts, "it worked- they- they left. They all left."

He let out a breathy laugh, slowing down his pace, smoothing his hands up and down your back, "Oh, angel. You're so smart. Such a good girl."

You chuckled a bit through pants, reaching your arms back towards him to touch him, to hold his hands for a moment.

Eddie suddenly pulled out of you, and you whined at the loss, confused.

"What are you-"

Before you could question him, he grabbed your waist, lifting you up off the couch and making you yelp, throwing your naked body over his shoulder and quickly heading to his bedroom.

"Eddie," you laughed nervously, "what's happening?"

"Sh," he shushed you, placing a kiss to your side, then throwing you on your back onto his bed of messy sheets and blankets, gasping as your body hit the mattress.

You gazed up at him in anticipation, as he held his infamous handcuffs in one hand.

"Do you still want me?" He asked in a husky voice.

"Yeah, of course I do-"

"Good," He interrupted you and smiled wickedly, "arms above your head."

You bit the side of your lip and grinned, doing as you were told.

He got on the bed and crawled over you, placing the handcuffs over your wrists, clicking them in place, making sure they were tight, then kissed your injured lips softly.

Eddie leaned back, spreading your legs open for him gently, his length still rock hard.

"You're cumming like this."

You shivered at his words, and he gripped your hips, yanking them up towards his cock, and pushed himself inside of you.

"Fuck, Eddie,"

"Jesus, you're still so fucking wet," he cursed.

He began to thrust into you again, at first slow, but quickly becoming desperate, pounding into you with a harsh and fast rhythm, gripping your hips tighter and tighter, surely leaving bruises.

You felt fire in your abdomen as he continued to fuck into you, him biting and kissing your knee sloppily as the new angle of his cock hit your sweet spot every time.

"Eddie, I don't think I can last long, fuck-"

"Me too, sweetheart," he groaned, putting a hand between the two of you, circling your clit with his thumb as he watched himself disappear inside of you, "cum with me."

You felt his cock grow even harder against your walls, making your eyes nearly roll in the back of your head, tears burning at the corners as you almost sobbed, crying out expletives as your orgasm took a hold of you, shockwaves gripping your body.

Eddie felt your walls clench around him, making him come undone as he emptied himself deep inside of you, biting your knee to hold back a loud moan as he followed closely after you.

Your highs came to a halt, as he gently lowered you back down, and collapsed on top of you.

You both panted heavily against each other, trying to catch your breath as he finally slid out of you. He held the sides of your face and kissed you desperately, then planted kisses all over your face, making you giggle.

"So, uh, that was..." Eddie trailed off.

"Amazing. It was amazing." You finished his sentence breathlessly.

"Yeah?" He lifted his head up and smiled at you.

"Yeah," you smiled back, "we should... do this again... soon."

"Yes, we should," he kissed your forehead, "we really should. Gotta take you on a proper date first."

He sat up from the bed, and you whined at the loss of his body heat.

"Well angel," he started, "we need to clean up all the blood and stuff, ya know, and fix our hands before Wayne gets home."

"Yeah, we do, but Eddie," you showed him your hands, "you gotta get me out of these cuffs first."

"Oh yeah, yeah, duh," he laughed, "the cuffs. Of course. Just need to... find the keys." He began to look around his room worriedly.

"God dammit, Eddie."

#eddie munson smut #smutty smut smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things smut #eddie the banished #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things 4 #song requests #fic request

[sharkksee]

A LITTLE DEATH !

──── Damian Al Ghul x Reader. 571 words.

Living after dying was too expensive a price that everyone avoided, because anyone would not be able to continue or repent when the effects of madness came. Everyone who has ever been revived in that well may never be the same again, Damian knew this very well, he has seen it with his own eyes.

The Lazarus Pit was too dangerous. They could use it on soldiers to keep the League of Shadows standing, not use it on loved ones. Using the grave of someone you love is like a death note delivered in front of the devil, on shaking knees. But the loneliness, the guilt, accumulated on him.

He let your inert body sink into the waters, freeing your death to the forces that his grandfather abused. It was a nightmare to see you like this, reminding him that he couldn't save you.

How did he fail like this? He is the heir of the Al Ghul, the blood of the deaths of his origins wells up in his veins. How did your death pass over him?

He can't allow it. No. He forbids you, in life and soul, to agonize in his presence, to abandon him and release him. You have to be with him, he won't let you even fall into the arms of death.

His eyes move over you, as he is always very curious about you. He is fascinated by your body, your curves, and the way the water covers your contours so softly on your fatal wounds. The gaze lingers on your soft, kissable lips, and he longs for the taste of your return. He wants to taste the sweetness of your lips with his. He longs for you, because he needs you. Damian will have wealth, soldiers, weapons, blood. But not having you is like a curse.

Soft, slow breathing is heard. The little chest goes up and down, in and out, in and out. But he doesn't move, not even a muscle, while he's listening to your every heartbeat from the edge of the Lazarus Pit.

Your body begins to react to the effects of the immortal waters, and he looked at you serenely. His hands clenched into knuckles, wishing for your own soul to be saved. Your fingers begin to move, and your body reacts, wanting to escape the waters as soon as you opened the eyes that Damian had loved so much from beneath the waters.

He gently lifts you into his arms and lifts you out of the water, feeling the living heat radiating from your body. He looks at you, intently, attentive to everything about you as he wraps his arms around your body tightly, not wanting you to escape from him.

“Beloved,” Damian whispers, his voice a hoarse but reassuring whisper. He feels your heartbeat. Oh, God. Your heart is beating, your lungs are breathing, your blood is reviving. He smiles slightly, noticing that you have calmed down from the waters and understand every part of what happened.

“I won't let you go… Again,” Damian whispers, almost to himself, holding you tighter, burying himself in your shoulder.

He can sense that you are agitated, your mind processing your return to life, wanting to ask. But the simple, cold gaze of those emerald orbs warn you to remain silent, like before you lost your life.

“I forbid you to leave me again.” He hissed, his breath now hitting your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He can't lose his favorite toy.

#batboys x reader #damian wayne x reader #batfam #dc robin #dc x reader #damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian x reader #dc comics #dc fanfic #dc oneshot #damian al ghul x reader #damian wayne al ghul #robin damian #batfamily #lazarus pit #damian wayne robin #al ghul family #dc #dc comics fanfiction #after death #dc comics robin #robin dc comics #robin #batman and robin #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x y/n #damian al ghul x you #damian al ghul x y/n #batman

[shallyouobeyme]

Rise

Obey Me - Yandere!Brothers x Reader (GN); Yandere!Diavolo x Reader (GN)

Summary: Your death had not been an unexpected one - at least for the seven reasons behind it - what had been unexpected was what happened afterwards. How far are the residents of hell willing to go to get you back?

! Minors Do Not Interact !

TW: Major Character Death, Death of a relative (mentioned), Yandere!brothers can be interpreted either as platonic or romantic, poison, murder, Manipulation, blackmailing, non-consensual kissing, angst generally, I do not condone this - this is all just fiction

Everything about your death had been planned prior, not a single detail was unaccounted for. At least for the ones behind it. You yourself had no idea that you were eating your last meal one Friday evening - it had been Lucifer's turn to cook and he made one of your favourites - and you were enjoying dinner with all the brothers. Quite honestly, you should have known something was afoot simply by the fact that all of them were on their best behaviour, no fighting, no cursing - the literal and the magical kind - and even Levi was acting sociable, without a handheld console anywhere in sight. Belphegor was wide awake (at least for his standards), Beelzebub was eating with relative moderation, Mammon wasn't bragging about any of his new purchases, Satan was calm as he could be, and Asmodeus had his complete attention on you, but not in his typical flirty way. It was like they were all trying to savour the moment.

Lucifer seemed to be the same as always, but you knew him too well and knew how to look beyond his shell. He was sad, somehow, and you would have guessed this sense of self-loathing that his pride usually didn't allow, but that always was just below the surface was bubbling up. Why, you didn't know, but you figured you'd ask him after dinner when you had some alone time. When you were finished eating, Mammon jumped up exclaiming that he'd do the cleaning today and you knew one of the brothers would ask what he was trying to even out now, which scheme of his he needed to repent for before it had actually come out. Not a word was said though. That was the moment when you became slightly suspicious, but sadly not suspicious enough - not that there was anything for you to change at that point. The deed had already been done.

A yawn straight out of your mouth pulled you away from your suspicions. You were really tired all of a sudden. The day must have been more exhausting than you had thought. 'Oh well', you thought as your eyelids slowly became heavier, 'you had time to ask Lucifer about what was going on tomorrow, after all, it was the weekend and you had had all the time in the world'. 'All the time in the world', oh how silly that phrase now sounded. You said goodbye to the brothers, giving each of them a small kiss on their cheek as it had established itself in your routine before you turned to leave for your room. 'MC', Lucifer had called after you as if wanting you to stop, but when you turned around to him, he seemingly had discarded whatever it was he had wanted, instead telling you to sleep well.

And you did sleep well, for about two hours and twenty-seven minutes. Two hours and twenty-seven minutes later, your heart beat for the last time, and then your body grew cold and stiff and lifeless. Death had come for you at last. A peaceful death, that the brothers knew for sure because as they all sat waiting in the dimly lit living room, they only felt a slight ache and a sense of finality as their bonds broke apart. It was regretful that they had to these measures and they were well aware that for the rest of their eternal lives, they'd mourn their actions - but what had to be done was done, this was the only way. The one way that would mean that you would spend eternity with them.

Their plan had first started being formulated when you had gotten news of a relative of yours dying - they had been old and sick and their death had not been an unexpected one. The brothers had decided they'd be there to help you mourn and cheer you up, but they found that while you felt the pain of your loss you were actually relieved, knowing that your relative now didn't have to suffer anymore, especially since they had made peace with their end already. It was what you said when Levi had wondered how you could be so nonchalant about death that kickstarted it all. 'We all die at the end, some sooner, some later - death is a part of life and I find that fleeing from it is impossible so I might as well embrace life for the short time it blesses me.'

They had always known that you'd die one day - they knew you were mortal, but still, knowing that you knew that you would, made this more real. It meant that it was something that would happen in the near future (for them at least) and after they had a long talk where all of them agreed that they could not, would not, live without you anymore they decided that the only way for you to be with them forever was to make you like them, to have you be a demon. That way you'd be safe in the Devildom - not that they'd stop protecting you - and you'd be bound to them for eternity, just like the pacts had bound them to you. But for a mortal to become a human, they had to die first.

Lucifer had cleared things with Diavolo - made him promise that once you died and came to hell, he'd make you into a demon (decidedly not mentioning that your death might happen sooner than the prince might expect) - and Satan took care of a poison that would make you die peacefully and painlessly in your sleep. From then on everything would be simple, your soul would come down to hell, that much was sure, you had made pacts with not one, not two, but all seven of the lords of hell, so there wasn't a way in the world that you'd end up in heaven.

That's what they had been so very sure of, but they didn't realize just how pure you were, how you had been able to keep your soul shining and clean even while surrounded by the worst of the worst, how you hadn't indulged in sin even while being surrounded by it. It might have been your celestial heritage or just your heart of goodness, but it seems the great father had his eyes on you and decided to give you another chance after your death. A new life as an angel - the same soul just elevated into a high, celestial position, and without memories about your mortal life. The brothers had no idea of your new angelic self, just mulling over the fact of how long it was taking you to make the track to hell, worrying that you might have been trapped in the mortal realm with unfinished business. It was Simeon who cleared it up for them, he had been in Celestia with Luke while they had ended your life, so when he appeared in the mansion, face white as a sheet and eyes filled with sadness, exclaiming that you were in Celestia now, that you had no memories, asking the brothers what had happened to you, why they hadn't been informed of your untimely demise. They improvised, exclaiming that you had died of some natural causes that unsuspectedly came with a mortal like you spending so much time in the Devildom, that they were in deep mourning and hadn't even gotten to contact your family yet. Simeon - too goodhearted for his own good - believed them, telling them that he'd mourn with them, but it was what he said before he left again that stuck in their mind: He'd take good care of your soul in Celestia.

No, they wouldn't let this happen. They'd do whatever they had to, whatever it took, to have you back in their midst again. A new plan formed, this one more destructive and with much more dire consequences, but they did not care anymore. Lucifer was again the one to get Diavolo's help but this time he was straightforward about it - he knew that he'd act on it with or without the prince's help. It was a surprise how quickly Diavolo agreed and how eager he was to help, it was a sign of his own ulterior motives, but having Diavolo on their side was the biggest trump card they could gain so Lucifer decided to keep that to himself.

Their plan would surely lead to another century, if not more, of animosities between the realms. It might even lead to another Celestial war, but the brothers were more than prepared to fight their former brethren if it was just to have you in their reach again. And so it was enacted ruthlessly and without hesitation. The seven of them along with Diavolo could easily summon an angel, even one as protected and new as you, and so when you arrived in the middle of their circle they were all too ready to embrace you tight enough to make sure you could never escape, the would have clipped your beautiful white wings - the same that Lillith had sprouted out of her back when she was alive and celestial - and would have buried your halo below the deepest ditch in the deepest sea, but they knew that that was not the end goal of their plan. Instead, Diavolo made you an offer. To join him. To become one of the rulers of hell, the eighth lord/lady of hell, and get a power beyond a simple angel's imagination. Of course, you declined, no self-respecting angel without any reason would agree to that, after all, angels were made, born, with the knowledge that the inhabitants of the Devildom were evil, the enemy.

Again, the brothers had expected you to decline, but they wanted to have at least offered it to you under these circumstances. They would get what they wanted one way or another though and so after a simple snap of Diavolo's fingers, Barbatos entered the room, carrying in his hand a small angel. He was holding him with his hand around his neck from behind and Luke was either unconscious or... you didn't want to think about what the or was. Of course, he was just sleeping from a potion in the cookies he had made with Barbatos earlier, during the baking session they had used to lure him down to the Devildom to work as their blackmail.

The ultimatum was clear. Agree, become one of them, and Luke would go free, or decline, go back to Celestia with the knowledge that the young angel, one of Michaels's very own pupils, had died while you could have stopped it. Had you retained your memories from your mortal life, you might have believed that they wouldn't have dared to hurt Luke, but even then you would have been wrong because there was nothing that was too far in their attempt to regain you by their side.

The goodness that had brought you into this situation in the first place was now also the reason for your decision. No way could you live with yourself knowing that you could've stopped Luke's death. And so you held out to shake Diavolo's hand, only for him to pull you towards him and kiss you deeply. The kiss was unexpected, but it turned out to be a welcomed distraction from the burning that started in your midst and widened out until it had reached every single part of your body. Your wings felt like they were made of pure fire as the feathers that were white as snow before turned into an ashen grey. The pain was almost as bad as the one in your temples where horns came out and curled backwards until they were horizontal to your head with a slight angle.

When the kiss - and the transformation - had ended the complete morph of your body took its toll as you fell right into Diavolo's arms. At that point Diavolo saw himself faced with a choice, he was so tempted to just take you with him - make you his partner like he knew you would one day be the moment he had given you your first kiss, now was the perfect chance, you were a demon like him now - but the brothers would surely wreak havoc up him and his kingdom if he did and he had more than enough time after all. People didn't expect him to be a patient man given his childish demeanour, but for you he was willing to wait decades, if not centuries, knowing that once he had you, he'd have you forever by his side. For now, he'd let the brothers take you home, coddle and care for you while they searched for ways to bring your memories back. They'd surely have their work cut out for them, after all - as Barbatos had explained after your transformation - as a result of a mix of celestial blood and the pacts you had with them during your time as a mortal, you were now the ultimate sin, an amalgamation of all of them: pride, greed, envy, wrath, lust, hunger and sloth.

A/N: My thirteenth entry into Yandere Writetober - based on the result of a poll I held - I hope you all liked this slightly longer and more experimentally written Friday the 13 'special'. If you did, I would really appreciate a comment or a reblog. Look forward to tomorrow's entry 'castle'

#yandere #writetober #dark content #tw: yandere #x reader #platonic yandere #romantic yandere #tw: kidnapping #yandere lucifer #yandere mammon #yandere levi #yandere satan #yandere asmodeus #yandere beelzebub #yandere belphegor #yandere diavolo #yandere obey me #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me brothers #obey me boys #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #satan x reader #levi x reader #leviathan x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader #asmodeus x reader #tw: murder

[adnauseum11]

Situation Awareness (John Price x Reader)

John navigates his over-protective tendencies with you.

1.5k words

minor swearing

feedback welcome!

John absolutely insists on chauffeuring you to and from work for the rest of the week, despite your half-hearted protests. You can admit to yourself that you are less-than- secretly enjoying the break from public transport, able to arrive at work without being harassed or stressed out. Unfortunately, the job is still the bane of your existence. Normally you would be able to shake off the weight of the day before you saw or spoke to John, now however, he’s getting to see you in all your agitated glory. By Friday afternoon, your period arrives and you are deeply contrite. When John picks you up that evening, you feel the need to repent.

He leans over the center console to kiss you hello, as is your new routine. Your whispered, ‘I’m sorry’ against his mouth before you pull back has him raising his brow at you. 

“Sorry for what, darling? You’ve been here all of five seconds.” 

“For haranguing you to death about my stupid job and wanting to quit this week. I got my period today, so that explains that.”

John is silent for a beat, and then surprises you.

“I think if you hate your job you should quit, love. You can get another job eventually.”

“Eventually?”

“Maybe you should take some time and figure out what you would rather do instead.” 

John says gently, reaching across the console to rest his hand on your thigh. The warmth of his hand settles the tension in your body, and you look at his profile as he drives. The late afternoon light catches in his hair and whiskers of his face and you feel a rush of warmth flood your chest. You have to stop yourself from reaching out to touch him. John tilts his head, taking an assessing look at you before turning back to the road, his thumb drifting across the material of your pants. 

“You’re miserable there darling. That’s become very clear. Life’s too short to spend it like that.”

“I was going to chalk it up to my hormones, but really, giving me shit when I’ve been victimized might have been my last straw if I’m being honest. They really don’t give a shit about me.”

“So, leave and find something you enjoy doing. I’d rather see you doing something you believe in, love.”

John’s gravelly voice is earnest. He merges into the exit for the road to his flat, checking his rear-view mirror.

“What would you suggest, Mr. Retired and loving it? I have some savings I guess I could use.”

“Like you said, no time like the present.” John repeats your words from earlier in the week back to you, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips. “Let’s agree to not worry about money, I have enough for both of us until you sort yourself out. Take that out of your equation and focus on figuring out what would make you happy.” 

John turns his fingers up to you and you thread yours through them, his big hand nearly swallowing yours. Maybe because your hormones are all over the place, or maybe because John’s offer is incredibly sweet, but you find your vision swimming with tears in the next breath. 

“John.”

“You alright, love?” He’s all concern, catching a look at your face as he brakes at a red light. You grip his hand and swallow the words that are threatening to spill out, letting them choke you instead. 

“I only want what’s best for you darling.” 

He’s unsure, your reaction making him second guess himself, not something he does often.  

“I know.” You manage to squeak, your throat feeling too thick with emotion to speak.

“I hate seeing you cry, love.”

“Good tears.” You squeeze his hand and he lifts them, kissing the back of your hand. 

You hold onto him for the rest of the short drive back home, John letting you get a handle on yourself in comfortable silence. He doesn’t bring it up again, instead suggesting you change when you arrive home while he putters around in the kitchen, assembling ingredients for dinner. 

You don’t need to be told twice, practically diving into your pyjamas. You steal the plaid flannel shirt he rarely wears, the cheery red calling a bit too much attention for his liking. It swallows you up and you have to roll the sleeves back to have use of your hands, which is how you re-enter the kitchen. John pauses, raising his brow at you as you tuck the sleeve behind your elbow.

“If you’re here to help I would prefer if you weren’t.” He flicks the end of the knife in his hand, shooing you away again. 

“mm, hilarious. I will concede my knife skills are sub-par –“

“Sub-par? Try non-existent.” John corrects, going back to his chopping duties. You huff at him and cross your arms, watching the muscles in his forearms dance.

“- but I can be helpful elsewhere. What else do you need?”

John pauses, looking at you again, his smile fond.

“You can be in charge of wine, go get yourself a glass.”

“Well, that I can manage.” 

You check the ingredients again before taking yourself to the fridge to find a chilled white.

“Is this alright?” 

You ask, holding the bottle out to him. He glances at it and nods, pre-occupied with getting the chicken breasts into the oven. After wrestling the cork out of the bottle, you pour two glasses, John kissing you when you hand his over. 

“Well, if you don’t need me, I’ll be on the couch.”

 You announce, taking your wine and not waiting for a reply. You’ve been slowly turning over John’s offer in the car. It’s tantalizing, the thought of not having to paste on your fake smile every working day. The possibility of a new career steals your focus from the show running on the telly. 

When John joins you a few minutes later, a timer set on his phone, you’ve claimed your usual spot tucked up against the arm rest. John slides in beside you, his arm going over the back of the couch as you resume your familiar positions. You rest your wine glass on his stomach, curling into him as he kicks his feet up onto the coffee table. You let him settle in for a moment before you muster your courage.

“Were you serious earlier?”

John nods, not needing clarification on what it is your asking.

“Of course, love, I wouldn’t tease you about that.”

He tugs the ends of your hair, making you look at him. You delay from saying anything further by taking a sip of your wine.

“Considering it?” He cajoles, watching your face. You bite your bottom lip and look back at him, his blue eyes radiating calm curiosity. 

“Yeah.” You admit, and the triumphant smile that creeps across his handsome face is almost too smug to bear.

“First Christmas together in this place.” John adds. “Might be nice to have nowhere to be over the holidays.” He’s hinting, the season a mere few weeks away.  

You look at him properly at that, his blue eyes focused on you. The corners of his eyes are turned up in a small squint as he tries to gauge your reaction. You juggle your wine into your other hand so you can give in to the impulse to stroke his facial hair, cupping your palm over the wiry hairs. The warmth of his body is reassuring, relaxing your achy muscles. John leans into your touch like a house cat, looking well pleased with himself.

“You don’t have plans with your mates from work this year?”

“If we do get together this year it would be last minute, darling, but nothing slated right now. You?”

That gives you pause, your palm dropping from his cheek to rest lightly on the centre of his chest. 

“No, I was going to work. You know my idiot brother is still in Wales with his family.”

“I’m sure we can find something better to do with your time over the holidays than work.” John’s tone is gently suggestive and you smile, patting his chest.

“I don’t doubt that. Should I do it? Quit my job? It just seems so crazy impulsive after everything this week.”

You can feel the smooth roll of his muscles as he shrugs, raising his eyebrow at you.

“I know better than to tell you what to do, love. Just offering you an out, if you want it.”

You exchange a long look before he gently takes the wine glass out of your hand and sets it beside his on the coffee table. You feel another wash of emotion rush over you when he cups your chin and kisses you, resting his forehead against yours.

“No judgements here. Do you want the out?”

You make a tiny nod, gripping the front of his shirt tightly, suddenly needing a lifeline. 

“Then take it.” His voice is reassuringly confident. 

You hesitatingly agree, your voice soft. You take the opportunity to burrow into John’s side, the comforting wall of muscle and heat grounding your anxieties. You tuck your face into his neck, leaning into his bulk. John makes no effort to shift you, letting you settle into him until his timer goes off and he has to disentangle himself to deal with dinner. He lets you marinate on your decision for the rest of the evening without further comment, his soothing touch eventually lulling you to sleep on the couch.  

Next Chapter

Ao3

Tag list: @deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms @itr-00 @chloepluto1306 @batw3nch

#fanfic #captain john price #call of duty #john price x reader #john price cod #john price #friends to lovers #john price x f!reader #quit your job #john price x you #captain price #cod fanfic #fanfiction

[deadvnstudios]

oh no! i got into a argument with the romanceables and they said something so stupid that upset me! how do they apologize? :3

"H-hey. Can you just... come to my room tonight? I… I have something I want to show you."

Upon entering Tempest's room later that evening, you're immediately struck by its uncharacteristic cleanliness and the candles meticulously arranged along his shelves. They cast a warm glow over Tempest, seated on his bed with legs crossed, cradling a guitar in his lap. He proceeds to serenade you with a song, personally composed for you, by him. The performance is brief, encompassing only a single verse, and as the final note fades, Tempest asks you to forgive him.

"Oopsy-daisy, baby's breath. Iris-pectfully apologize. Please forget-me-not… and uhm… Look. Bad puns aside, what I'm trying to say is… I'm sorry for upsetting you."

The morning after your fight, you find Vein lingering outside your room, a vibrant bouquet of your favorite flowers in her hands. Before you can react, the flowers are crumpled against your chest in a crushing embrace as Vein pulls you into a whirlwind hug. The world blurs as she spins you round and round, leaving you with only two choices:

a) vomit from dizziness or

b) accept her sincerest apology

"Fine, I messed up. Happy? Now pick your apology – but you only get one, got it?"

Insisting that you would be unable to sleep until she apologized, Mary storms into your room in the dead of night, jarring you from sleep. Taking advantage of your grogginess, she pins you to your bed and fans out the thin, crumpled slices of paper clutched in her hand. She orders you to select one. On each slip of paper, a different IOU is written:

IOU a full day of doing whatever the hell you want to do

IOU a movie night where we watch all of your favorite trash movies

IOU a letter detailing all of your least annoying traits

IOU a homemade dinner of your choosing (...but cooked by Noel, he owes me)

"Darling dearest, how much longer will you leave me to linger in the hall? My night will be frigid, unbearably bothersome as I shiver on my lonesome without you by my side….could you find it in your heart to forgive a fool? At least one foolishly in love?”

You sigh as Mona continues to dramatically plead at your bedroom door, talons tapping incessantly against the wood as her anxieties begin to emerge. As you finally open the door, she rushes in and nearly tackles you to the ground. Trapped within her hold she noisily smooches over the entirety of your face, cradling you like you’re something precious. Irreplaceable. You two will have a serious talk in the morning, but you’ll spend the rest of the night tangled together, cuddling under the sheets as she whispers into your ear every reason she fell for you to begin with.

“Beloved, the affliction of affection ails me; my world becoming insipid and dull in your absence. In having wounded you, I have wounded myself. I will eagerly bleed my heart dry in repentance if it can’t beat beside yours. I would give you all of myself to see you smile at me once more. Please, return to me tomorrow. I miss you.”

The note Sorin slipped under your door is littered with a stray tear mark here and there. Your heart aches as the the crooked letters, scribbled on hurriedly, bleed across the page from the dampness. When you go to find him the next morning, Sorin eagerly intertwines their fingers with yours, kissing your knuckles as they beg for your pardon and your company. The two of you plan to take a nap in the sunlit garden, but you have to silence Sorin with a kiss as he prattles on, praising your character.

”Wait…I…please. Hear me out.”

Noel heaves against the doorframe, one arm holding open the door you’d planned to shove close. Though his ears burn in shame, he requests that you join him that evening for dinner. In his room. Alone. When you arrive you’re taken aback by the makeshift candlelit dinner set up on a picnic blanket on the floor. Noel sheepishly lights a candle, letting you know that he’s prepared your favorite. He doesn’t want to talk while the two of you are hangry.

#fool's paradise #indie games #visual novel #vn #indie game #vein #mona #tempest #noel #mary #sorin

[padawansuggest]

Took a shower (thank the lord right) and accidentally created a new AU in my noggin be warned this one is super wild. Includes: Baby-Wan and ouchies and time travel

Obi-Wan goes back in time (whatever maybe he did it himself maybe someone did it to him maybe he did it on accident but it’s post ANH okay) and suddenly finds himself in his toddler body.

You know what his first thought is? Cody. And absolute grief because his soulmate HAD been there in the force with him but now he’s gone. So what does Cody make him think of? Jango. Which means he’s all ughhhhhhhhh I have to go save him, and manages to mindcontrol some guy into getting him off planet. So here he is four whole years old with all the adult emotions trapped in a baby body what can go wrong??? Pirates. Obviously.

Frankly the only reason he doesn’t feel bad about the guy he mind controlled cause he was already gonna end up here so. Whoops.

So who manages to find them of all the damn people? Jaster’s entire ship headed to Korda Six (yes I’m going there the force said ‘I’m gonna give the gays everything they want’ and started with a happy baby’) but having been waylaid by a sudden four year old WITH A KNIFE AND FERAL STUPIDITY on the bridge. He says his name is Cody, he cut Montrose on his calve and it IS gonna require surgery and he bites everyone. Especially Jango. Who is only ten and crying because an ik’aad bit him and Jaster is very torn between giving Jango kisses for his ouchie and helping catch the toddler that knows how to escape through vents and is staging a one toddler zero men mutiny and is loudly telling everyone he’s going to the Jedi.

Maybe he’s possessed. Maybe they can just take him to the Jetii for a quick exorcism and play blaster-armor-saber for who gets the honor of adopting his feral ass.

Till they come across a pirate ship beating up a stranded ship and that’s just not nice so well shit they gotta save them.

Which is how they end up with a traumatized Captain and a stowaway toddler who’s demanding to see Jango once he realizes what ship he’s on. Jango is grumpily dragged in to see him, gets baby attached to his chest (listen he is so over babies now you can let go anytime he’s not interested in getting bit again) and then the vent to the medical room and a feral toddler with a knife comes flying out and demands to get his love back right this fucking instant.

Jaster finally gets a hold of him, disarms him, and puts him in time out before asking who taught him that word that’s not an ad’ika word!

Cody, repentant because adult emotions in a baby body fills you up so much, cries and asks for cuddles. Jaster gives him cuddles before putting in on a cot with Obi-Wan who promptly forgets Jango exists and gives Cody shy baby kisses and holds his hand. Jango is relieved to not be the center of attention for a moment. Till Jaster promptly realizes no one told Obi-Wan who Jango is, why did Obi ask for him?? Obi says he’s a Jetii master trapped in a baby’s body.

Yeah so possession it is. They call up the Jetii and ask if they can come over for exorcisms n chill, the Jetii say they can give them one better can you plz pick up some stranded Jetii along the way? Don’t worry they can assess the situation and see if they need to come in for it. It’s Master Windu and Padawan Billaba! What a surprise! Obi had no idea this could be so easy!

Anyways. So he’s having trouble talking because let’s just say I’ve decided so, so he sorta throws his mental shields down and starts projecting at people, which along with giving EVERYONE a headache, instead of just Mace for once, gives the force the chance to snap a BUNCH of bonds in place. Like a master-apprentice bond with Mace. And vod’e bonds with Depa and Jango. And a Buir bond with Jaster. And a full fledged soulmate bond with Cody.

Anyways. Mace thinks he’s decided three things: he’s gotta (not wants to, but has to) get the senate to let them make an outpost in Mandalorian space so him and Obi can be with Obi’s new dad and family, he does NOT want to be a council member anymore because this is a fucking mess that’s gonna turn into a 6 day meeting for them, and yes, they need to go to the temple.

Anyways. Make Cody a small child and give him a knife is my solution to a lot of things actually.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #clone wars #commander cody #jaster mereel #jango fett #mace windu #codywan #time travel #baby wan #tiny cody

[romanoffsbish]

A Twisted Web of Lies

Natasha Romanoff x R

Warnings: Cheating(Kinda Sorta), Violence, Injured R, No Happy Ending

Request | Prompts

“This was never real, was it?” / “I was just a warm body for those cold winter nights…”

“Please, don’t leave me, we can fix this.” /“You left me first, I’m just finishing the job.”

Natasha pulled away from Wanda's lips with a start as the door hit the wall. You looked amiss. Her heart beat in worried stutters. Something went wrong, and she's only making it worse.

The sting on her cheek was instant, feeling like pins and needles. Her face became neutral. A heart wrenching sob at the back of her throat being restricted with precision. It'll be okay Natalia, she'll understand one day, the mantra echoing in her mind as she keeps it together.

——

Wanda sobs loudly on the bed, this was never something she had a good feeling about. Nat was just too damn convincing that there was no other way to do this. You had to hate her for this to work, for her enemies to believe you useless. Wanda loved you enough to break you.

It's twisted, but in some part of you that's not hurting, you might even agree with the plan.

For a matter of minutes the room stood still, soft sniffles reverberated off the wall as the ones who betrayed you stayed still on the bed. Then you finally turned to face the woman you entrusted with your heart, you kept a stoic expression, but she saw the pain in your eyes.

"This was never real, was it?" Natasha flinched at your unusually cold tone. Her composure immediately faltering. You sighed defeatedly, "I was just a warm body for those cold winter nights..." Your head shook in disgust. "I hope it was all worth it."

Your stoney glare as you left the room made the redhead gulp, the fear still remaining in her throat, and for the first time she thinks this might've been a bad idea. But it was too late.

Her plan was for nothing. Something she found out while en route to the last person on the list.

The list of enemies that resurfaced out of nowhere, who threatened to ruin her in a way that would bring irreversible damage. Which is why she untethered herself from you, but someone was too smart and called her bluff.

Antonia Dreykov. The woman who chose revenge in the name of freedom. It was gifted back to her by Natasha, but her repentance didn't soothe the maimed woman at all. It was a grudge too thick to wade through, the two bonded, tortured souls were now unraveling.

Natasha took her childhood. A chance at joy. The same way her wretched father took hers, and countless others. Natasha imprisoned Antonia as she broke free from her chains.

So, the Taskmaster herself collected you to even the playing field. An eye for an eye.

Just as Natasha made it to the spot she'd tracked the woman to she heard a scream that made her blood run cold. Her heart having sank into the abyss of her very own personal hell. It couldn't be you, even if she knew in her heart that it was. Every sound you've ever made is embedded in the grooves of her soul.

You were supposed to be on a "mission" with Bucky in Canada. Not in Budapest, the ending point that brings it all back to the beginning.

You had to be over four thousand miles away for her to agree to this. Because whenever she doesn't have you under the eye of a super soldier, or metallic man she has you under hers. Distance never a thing as she ensured a way onto your missions every time, her rank allowing her to torture you with her proximity.

Fury knew what was going on. So he allowed it even when his gut told him it's wrong. It was.

Fury had told you living on your own wasn't an option due to an enemy from your past still being on the loose. Another lie told, the woman was detained, and locked up tight on the raft.

There was no fight left in you, plus, you didn't want the backstabbing whores thinking they had enough power over you to make you leave. No way were you going to help them have more leeway to continue their torrid love affair.

Natasha's feet had never moved so fast, she entered the humid, abandoned warehouse. It didn't take her long to find you, tied to a chair with your body in rough shape, your head lulled

"Not again," you whined before you looked up and saw a blur of familiar features. The red hair stood out to like a sore thumb, and you grimaced as the realization washed over you. "Why are you here?" You were clearly delirious.

"Me?" She scoffed, "What are you doing here?"

"An enemy of my enemy caught me while I was getting a dirty dog!" Natasha could see tears in your eyes, and if the moment wasn't so tense she would make fun of you for your emotional distress over a subpar New York hot dog. But she hadn't the time as she was working hastily to remove your arms intricate restraints.

"You're supposed to be safe with Bucky!"

"Bucky got called away on a real mission," you spat. "He let it slip that the other was bogus."

Natasha felt her blood boiling, an entire six months operation meant to keep you safe was down the drain because of Barnes loose lips.

"I appreciated the honesty," you admitted.

"Y/N," Natasha shakily whispered your name, but before she could go on a shield whooshed between your faces, nearly knocking you out.

"Perfect fucking timing," Natasha huffs, hands dropping the ropes around your legs so she could stand to greet a smug looking Antonia.

"Natalia, so nice of you to join your lover for a proper beat down." Natasha glared at her, a smart quip fresh on her tongue but you spoke first, and left her speechless and heartbroken.

"I'm not her lover," you spat with so much venom Natasha felt all the hope she had die.

"Oh yeah," Antonia gasped in feigned shock. "Natalia here cheated on you in the name of protection and left you even more vulnerable.

Natasha frowned. "Tracking an Avenger should be impossible, but with her reckless new lease on life it was as if she didn't even care to hide."

The redhead looked to you for an answer, you rolled your eyes and tilted your throbbing head to avoid the light shining down. "I wanted Dory to catch me, so I could put her behind bars and be able to leave the compound for good."

Natasha's eyes flashed with something you saw clearly, another layer of secrets kept to protect you, but all it did was leave you more exposed.

Before you could start a fight over the obvious detainment of your own enemy, Natasha was blindsided by a barbaric assault that took her across the room in a matter of seconds. While the destined enemies fought you worked as best you could to untie your legs with your good arm as the other dangled awkwardly.

The fight was anticlimactic, and quick. Without her deceased fathers mind control mod, she was virtually useless against the trained widow.

Natasha slammed her to the ground after the initial shock of being catapulted, then she took a knife from her thigh holster and drove it into the woman's chest. Nicking vital organs, and leaving her for dead. "You're a pathetic excuse for an enemy. I've fought actual children, as a child myself with more stamina than you."

"It doesn't matter," Antonia cackled, blood splattered from her mouth onto Natasha's face. "Can't you see? I won. You've lost your joy."

Natasha looked up to see you upright, you'd removed the rest of your restraints, and were now taking a slow stroll towards the exit. Using the wall to hold up the body you couldn't.

"She'll never forgive you," she weakly spoke while grinning devilishly. Natasha twisted the knife, and the woman beneath her choked out a final breath. The redhead glared down at her for a final time before sprinting to cut you off.

"Y/N please," she fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around your legs in desperation. "Wanda and I only kissed, I swear she was fully dressed under that blanket. I-I just had to make you believe it, I needed to keep you safe."

"I don't give a fuck about your intentions." You tried, but were too weak to shrug her off. "They might've been good natured in your very own twisted way, but they led to my heartbreak."

"How do I fix this, please detka. There has to be a way," she pleaded brokenly. A part of you wanted to hold her, to let it all go, but you can't forget all the nights you spent crying over the betrayal that had only ever been a facade.

It caused irreparable devastation, leaving your relationship in ruins. "There's nothing to do Nat. You've had six months to come clean."

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, tears soaking through the tattered fabric of your sweats, you weren't sure if she was talking to you, or herself. "I should've been upfront with you, I know that now, but I needed the enemy to believe it."

"Yeah, how'd that work out for you, huh?"

Natasha's lip trembled as she looked up to see just how badly you'd been beaten. "If I'd have known, then this never would've happened. I would've been prepared for an attack, I'm a fucking Avenger for Christ's sakes Nat, not a defenseless civilian. I would've fought by your side, but you treated me like a fragile child."

"It was a mistake, I'm sorry..." Natasha pressed her forehead to your abdomen, feeling the warmth of your exposed skin for what she believed to be the final time. The look in your eyes enough to nix her hope. "I love you Y/N."

"Let go Nat," you demanded, voice now gruff from the building frustration coupled along with lack of water you'd had being held captive.

"No! Please..." This couldn't be the end.

"Now!" You growled, something you'd never done to her before, but it's proving to be a year of firsts for you two. Just all the wrong ones.

"Please, don't leave me, we can fix this." Natasha pleads over a sob, the desperation innate, her lungs feeling as if they'd collapse any second now as her heart breaks in two.

"There's nothing to fix. I can't forgive this."

Never in her days did she expect you to ignore her truths, and walk away from her. It was to protect you, your future together, but you said you can't forgive her. Maybe Wanda, but her?

Abso-fucking-lutely not. She made a choice that left you permanently scarred. She could've dumped you in a way that wasn't so brutal, and didn't make you lose your sense of self worth.

"I trusted you Natalia," you grimaced, shaking your head side to side just to clarify to her how disgusted you were with your decisions. You chuckled darkly before pulling her up into an intense kiss as a distraction from your hands.

Natasha grunts as she hears the click of metal, feeling as your teeth drew blood from her lips while also feeling a coolness around her wrists.

"After all," you taunted, looking at her with a frown and faux sympathy in your eyes as you prepared yourself to hobble away. "You left me first, I'm just finishing the job."

——

1,899 Words

🥹 Kaitlyn 😔

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #gxg #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #black widow #black widow imagine #black widow angst #black widow x you

[thecuriousquest]

Yandere levi and yandere erwin!!

They both have an unhealthy obsession with reader and they keep her from going on battles and just keep her locked up somewhere!

A scenario I thought of was they both had a relationship with her and they soon got more and more possessive of her to the point where they falsely pronounce that she’s dead during a mission but they really just kidnapped her and keeps her locked up where only they know. Maybe she tries to runaway but they catch her and punish her!!

Working Together

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug @palesweetscherryblossom

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW due to brutal and graphic whipping, mentions of blood, injured reader, kidnapping, stripping/nudity, bondage, choking, hair pulling, Levi doesn’t talk much, Levi takes orders from Erwin

Master List

—————————————————————————

That’s a real ass beating right there. You think Levi is a hard dom, a complete sadist? Wait until you meet Yandere Erwin. I mean, where do you think Levi learned this type of behavior from?

—————————————————————————

Your wrists and ankles are tied together with cloth, tight knots securing the binds. By the Walls, you were so stupid to think you could actually run from this place…wherever this is.

After what you think has been roughly six months, neither Erwin nor Levi have told you your location. All you know is that you sleep in the basement of what can only be a house. You assume this because every time you see the door to the basement open or close, you can see a hallway with some work of art hung up on the wall across from the barrier.

Now, here you sit, lying face down on your cot, all tied up like a pretty pet for the two men. Sighing loudly, you think back on how they stole you away during one of your missions when you suddenly went unconscious. You had woken up in this same basement, tied up the exact same way on your stomach. They had told you that you weren’t safe working as a soldier, and they knew they could better protect you here. You had shouted at them to let you go, called them every name in the book, insulted both of their penis sizes, and resulted to rage screaming when they suddenly gagged you and left.

It was a horrible night, a night you don’t want to relive but often do. You can’t help it. That night was one of the most traumatic events you’ve ever lived through.

You were tired of waiting for the “right opportunity”. You became so impatient that you tried to create an opening all on your own. When Commander Erwin came to visit you without Levi, you tried to tackle him, tried to knock him out to get the key to the basement door.

Yes, he’s older, but by no means is the man out of shape. He took you down and held you against the floor with a hand around your throat, calling for Levi, giving the order for you to be bound and placed on your stomach while they talk upstairs.

———

So now, here you are, just waiting like an idle frog to be given your inevitable punishment.

“I just want to leave this place,” you whisper to yourself.

The door to the basement opens, and you strain your neck to look up and and see your two captors walking down the steps.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Y/N?”

Silence passes between the three of you before Levi grabs you by the hair, forcing your shoulders off of the cot.

“No, sir!”

Your scalp cries with relief once Levi lets go of your tresses, and you slump against your pillow.

“Really? You don’t have one thing to say? Not even an apology?” Erwin persists.

You grumble at the both of them, “I’m not sorry.”

“Do you hear that, Levi? She’s not sorry. Well, I guess it’s up to us to make sure she is sorry by the time we’re done.”

You watch him take off his jacket. He rolls up each sleeve on his arm.

“It’ll do the brat some good to repent,” Levi voiced his opinion.

Erwin only slightly laughs in agreement with the captain’s words.

This isn’t your first punishment from either of them. They tell you all the time that you’re “too feisty for your own good”, but you know they secretly enjoy it, how you bounce right back after each rough session. They love how you’re not so easily broken even if they deny it.

No, you know better by now. You know them all too well. You know what they desire by themselves and together. Erwin wants to poke you, to see how far you can go until you give in. Levi just likes to beat you because he likes to beat you. He doesn’t do it to see how much you can endure; he does it because he knows you’ll still be the same old you after you’re done healing.

It never fails.

You finally notice something in Levi’s hand, and you shudder at the thought of the whips on your body, lashing you with the vigor of a sadist. You now understand why your wrists are tied up in front of you, why you’re on your stomach. They plan to whip your backside raw.

Erwin stands by, watching Levi cut and tear your clothes off of your body with a knife, ripping the scraps of fabric away, letting them fall on the floor in a pile. Hell, it’s so cold in the basement. You feel a sheet of goosebumps coat your flesh.

Levi hands one of the whips to Erwin, waiting to be given instructions for the next move.

“Levi, do you want to do her ass or thighs?”

The grin spreading across his face is darkened with the dim lighting of the basement, and you force yourself to stay composed.

“I’ll take her thighs.”

You know exactly why. He knows your thighs are the most sensitive during spankings. Sure, he’s an ass man who likes to watch your butt juggle with each searing smack. However, when it comes to inflicting pain with a lash, he knows which parts to focus on more.

Levi takes the left side of your cot while Erwin assumes the right. They line up directly with each chosen body part of yours, and then, the game begins.

You bite through your lip after the first lash. It takes everything in you not to scream as they work as a team to thoroughly punish you. Their strikes are synchronized, and you have nothing else to pay attention to. You have no way of leaving your mind and disassociating for the misery they are putting you through.

Blood spills from your split lip, running down your chin. You feel the lash cross on your bottom as Levi whacks your thighs. The whip is heavy, burning.

You shake with rage, with utter frustration. Why couldn’t you be more patient? Why didn’t you wait for a real opening instead of trying to force one?

“Stop it! I can’t! I can’t take anymore!”

You don’t know how many you have received so far, and as they continue with your abuse, they give you no indication of when it will be over.

It’s an endless torture.

You suffer through it, screaming into your pillow until your body ceases its writhing. Movement only furthers your exhaustion, and you’re too worn out now to do anything more than twitch upon every crack of the whip.

You feel like you’re on the verge of passing out when they finally stop. You can sense blood dripping down your asscheeks and thighs, letting the blanket underneath you soak up the crimson liquid.

You wheeze into the fluffy pillow, drenching it with your tears and snot. What a pitiful site you must be.

Then, there are hands on you, hands helping to turn you over. Your pain-induced wailing fills the dank, cold, and wet basement as your backside makes contact with the cot. Erwin undoes the ties on your wrists while Levi works to untie the binds on your ankles.

Free to move your limbs, you settle yourself back on your stomach, hissing with each movement. You wish you would just pass out. You really wish you would because it would be better than enduring this absolute agony.

“Dear, are you sorry yet?” Erwin inquires.

Nodding your head, you can’t bring yourself to look up at him. “Yes, I’m sorry…I’m sorry about whatever I did in my past life to get stuck with the two of you assholes in this one.”

You just can’t help yourself.

You hear Levi’s chuckle. “After all of that, and you still haven’t learned? You’ve lost a lot of blood, but we can always keep going.”

Clenching your fists, you hide your face from them.

“Well then, I guess we’ll keep going,” Erwin announces with finality.

———

By the time they’re done with you, you’re an unconscious mess of opened welts and bruises. The impact was excruciating on top of having already gone through a previous round.

You end up having to rely on them for everything. To eat, to stand, to bathe, to use the restroom. It’s humiliating, but you can’t move one inch without bursting into violent screams of pain. Sometimes, you wake up in the night sweating and vomiting because of the heat behind the whipping. You now understand your limits and how you goaded them into pushing you way beyond them. You thought you could take another round. You were so wrong.

Well, at least you passed out before you could apologize. You still haven’t said “I’m sorry” to Erwin or Levi, and for you, this is a win.

#triggering content #triggering themes #yandere themes #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #attack on titan #attack on titan requests #yandere attack on titan #levi ackerman attack on titan #levi attack on titan #attack on titan erwin #erwin smith #yandere levi ackerman #yandere levi ackerman x reader #yandere erwin #yandere levi x reader

[rainystarters]

๋࣭ ⭑𓆩✧𓆪🗡ྀ࿔ 〖 stories and songs . . . 〗 a collection of sentence starters inspired by various codex entries from the dragon age rpg series. some prompts usfw. adjust details as necessary.

the wind that stirs their shallow graves carries their song.

heed our words, hear our cry.

oh, fair damsel of the garden!

surely your work is far too vital to be interrupted by one like me.

i was a fool to pluck that flower.

you are not a man known for your honor.

you allowed me to live once, and so now i do the same for you.

i am humbled by your words.

but some things cannot be repent.

there is something in here with us.

death is certain, either way.

you have been my rock and my shield.

strike true, do not waver. and let not your prey suffer.

as the sapling bends, so must you.

you are lost, and soon you will fade.

go forth and claim the empty throne of heaven.

you have brought doom upon the world.

magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.

they shall find no rest in this world or beyond.

there is but one truth.

all things in this world are finite.

each night in dreams you may always remember me.

the light shall lead you safely.

i am but your faithful servant.

if blood must be shed and used, so be it.

step away from this folly, before it consumes us all.

i long to dance with you beneath the moonlight.

do not despair. for it is not you, it is of me.

my most heartfelt apologies for the ripped bodice.

such depravity i have never been forced to suffer!

let them hunt, and dread finding me.

truth will hold you for that is what truth does.

i shouldn't have doubted your resolve.

please accept my humble apologies.

in truth, it is i who has been most vulnerable.

the seals are already weakening.

it must be protected at all costs.

of unknown metal and magic keen, a finer blade there's never been.

any army is only as good as its equipment.

blessed by the vine in spring, i shall not fear the winter's sting.

only fools ignore the history of the ground they walk and the people they meet.

i could use an extra pair of eyes to keep watch at night.

i hope they found peace.

blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.

in blood, my will is written.

we are forever in your graces.

the oath you have taken is all but broken.

can you be forgiven when the cold grave has come?

once we raised up our chalice in victory.

why change the past when you can own this day?

the wolves are our allies.

always keep an eye out for the noble owl.

nothing burns like the first cup.

gallows master, hold they hand. hold it back awhile.

look away, look into the sun.

you know we all are dying.

alas, i cannot stay.

we'll beat down the bastard, and then we'll get plastered!

what of the old secrets the burn in our hearts?

now we pray for a dawn that will never arrive.

but it is our blood he seeks.

you will realize the smiles are false, and behind them lies revenge.

for all your fancy intrigue, you have spent your life creating nothing of worth.

it moves on without you, uncaring.

who could bear the weight of a people destroyed by his hand?

what was your vision of our purpose?

so buy the lads a round.

i'm ashore for the night and seeking company.

i'd still rather die.

why be what i am when i can be more?

have you threatened to cut out anyone's tongue today?

for have i not grown in skill and measure?

binding a demon of higher power is dangerous...

let it be my choice to have served and died.

i'm not staying to watch you die like a fool.

the undead you have been fighting are people i killed with my own hands.

here is my soul, trapped in a cage of bone.

turn around, face the shadows. don't blink.

just going to lie here for a while.

chopping off their heads should do the trick.

i am empty, filled with nothing.

arrogance becomes our end.

i'm here to die. but i won't go quietly.

i don't want to die like this.

cry for the past; only there does glory dwell.

so the forest grows, a reflection of our might.

mourn the past and all that was left there.

mastery of the self is mastery of the world.

suffering is choice and we can refuse it.

pride disguises itself in its surety.

#rp meme #fantasy rp meme #action rp memes #sentence starters #rp sentence starters #rp prompts #rp sentence meme #rp starters

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

(from wikipedia) The Malleus is a bone situated in the middle ear. It is the first of the three ossicles, and attached to the tympanic membrane. The head of the Malleus is the large protruding section, which attaches to the incus. The head connects to the neck of Malleus. The bone continues as the handle (or manubrium) of Malleus, which connects to the tympanic membrane. Between the neck and handle of the Malleus, lateral and anterior processes emerge from the bone. The bone is oriented so that

Omg, malleus (hammer)-sama real? 😱

This interaction is vaguely inspired by a really romantically charged wall slamming scene in a K-drama I’ve recently been watching—

Like Fire, Hellfire.

You ran a finger along the next line of the anatomy and physiology textbook in your hands, reciting the words aloud. The chapter was on hearing and the various components of the human ear. You stressed malleus loudly each time the bone came up, grinning madly all the while.

Beside you, Rollo paused in rifling through the bookshelf and shot you a sideways stink eye. He had come the school archives in search of knowledge, not annoyance—yet here you were, acutely aware of how to get under his skin, and doing an excellent job of it.

What an irksome individual.

Handkerchief to his face, Rollo snidely asked, “… Are you quite finished?”

“No, never,” you gasped, innocently batting your lashes at him. (Rollo’s left eye twitched.) “A good student is always on a quest for new wisdom, so I have to study up on the malleus while I still can.”

“At least read it to yourself quietly; this is a library, not a concert grounds. You are so rudely disrupting the concentration of your peers.”

Namely, myself.

He didn’t want to confess it—certainly not out loud—but you had been distracting him ever since you first stepped into the room. Rollo had stole several suspicious looks at you since, glances he justified to himself with, What must they be up to now?

Your goofy grin, your earnest and open heart. They all put him on edge, set the beat to his heart at a rapid, uneasy hammer.

A minion of evil, come to ensnare him into committing vices.

Rollo took a sharp breath to calm himself.

“They can learn about the malleus too,” you said, flipping to the next page. “I’m a free educational audiobook.”

“Then pick something else to blather on about,” Rollo insisted sharply.

“What, do you have something against the malleus?“

His face heated with fury, eyes flashing dangerously. If I hear that man’s name on your lips one more time, my head is going to explode.

“Just tell me your true feelings then,” you urged with a pout. “Tell me how you feel about the mal…”

He moved before you had even registered it. His hand was on your book, shunted shut with a CLAP!! You squeaked, leaping desperately for it—but a tall shadow had fallen into your path.

SLAM!!

A fist came down hard beside you, walling you in between a livid Rollo Flamme and the bookcase to your back. He glared down at you, face twisting with disdain. Gone was his neutral expression, replaced with cruel eyes and a cold, creased scowl.

You gulped, suddenly feeling like a mouse caught in a trap.

“You would do well to listen and be obedient,” he hissed darkly. “Do not speak his name, for you will summon him like the demon he is.”

The only name you should be speaking is…

He banished the blasphemous line from his head. Cursed it, damned it to hell.

Rollo tore the book from your hold and abruptly stepped away. He still hummed with warmth—an exhilarating blend of rage, envy, and, most disgusting of all, desire. Hot, burning, hungry.

He hurriedly stamped it out as though it were an item unintentionally set ablaze. Stuffed it in an ash pile, along with everything else burnt away to black. Happiness, hope.

Love.

“… I will be returning this to its rightful place,” he spat out. “While I am gone, you should reflect on your actions and repent.”

Rollo didn’t wait for a response—he was already gone before you could reach for him.

A hand of acceptance, rejected before it had even been offered.

#twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #Rollo Flamme x Reader #Rollo Flamme #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #disney twisted wonderland #Reader #self insert #Rollo at the Writing Desk

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER FOURTEEN: TRIPE

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, Daddy kink, child abuse and more (check the tags)

Read after the cut

-

By some sense of duty, or else an undug tendril of guilt, Will volunteers himself to oversee your evening routine alone. You allow him this, being in scant possession of what slim tolerance has borne you through Hannibal’s accompaniment thus far.

Will proves himself to be far less involved than the other man would have been in his stead. He leans against a wall with the nonchalance of a prison warden as you shower blood and spend alike down the receiving drain, allows you to pad into your bedroom, towel-wrapped, to select a clean nightdress and sanitary products with his head turned nobly aside.

You cannot determine if his distance from you is through respect for your condition or some lasting dislike of you, neither of which holds entirely true.

More likely it is that he does not see you as his child, yet, nor quite with the equality of a lover.

Still, as you get into bed he cannot help but come to you, uncertain as he his of his purpose.

“Will you give me a goodnight kiss?” you ask, part in bitter jest, and part in annoyance with his indecision.

That a man can fuck and beat you in throes of black delight and still skulk about like a repentant sinner would have confounded you in the days before you became accustomed to such duality. To what end, and upon what strength the latter side subsists is now the greater puzzle, for it is this that drags its heels and restrains Will from his full devilry.

“Well?” you say, brusquely. “What are you waiting for? Dad’s permission?”

Will gives a hard laugh, one hand kneading the back of his neck.

“I admire your commitment to the part, but you don’t have to keep it up so seriously when it’s just you and me.”

“I promised I would,” you remind him. “Why can’t you? You had no issue kissing me in front of Hannibal. I don’t see why it’s a problem now.”

You see Will’s fingers go to the bridge of his nose, wanting the guard of the eyeglasses he’s neglected to wear.

“It’s not genuine,” he says, flatly. “The only reason you’re asking is to manipulate me.”

“So what?” you say. “Scared that it’ll work?”

“Not scared, no.”

“Sure you’re not.”

There is something hysterical in your tone, the cut string of a trapped and weary madness.

Will examines you, aware of the power play you’re attempting over him, intrigued by it, despite himself. Attracted, even.

His gaze is like a stone in the sun, all heat, all black, all blue.

He knows what revulsion you must push past to test him like this, still slightly high from the forced euphoria of fucking, and the drugs. You’re beyond consideration of the consequences, irrational, barely attached to the tongue and teeth that bite at the air in their ire.

Still Will hangs from your words like a pilgrim knelt before an oracle, dependent on your answer.

“Haven’t you had enough of me kissing you tonight?” he asks.

Sniffing, you turn to face his gargoyle shadow on the wall.

“So it’s a no. You’d make a really terrible father.”

“One...”

“Not my name.”

So Will says it, gently, and you roll back towards him, your heart quick and high behind a rail of bone with the thrill of his appeasement.

Your truce, the union of flesh: they’ve altered Will, for as he looks at you a second time his pupils are the chasms between worlds, wild and deep.

Kneeling up on the bed, you make a trellis of both hands through his curls and clutch him to you in an ungainly kiss. Will stumbles in the force of it, his arms spilling about your back so as not to fall upon you with all his weight.

You gasp against his lips with eagerness to take what he has taken, to fallow the rose flesh of his inner mouth, the lathe of your tongue churning. Will is too surprised to kiss you in return, but as you hitch one leg after the other upon his hips you feel the vine of him against your groin, wanting you again, as always.

You think of him fucking you now, pinning your wicked hands with the nail of his fist as he thrusts through a sheen of blood. Though you despise him still, your loins smart with interest in engineering the act rather than merely suffering it as ever before.

At last Will returns your kiss, but briefly, and with a knowing restraint before he lays you back upon the bed again.

You grasp at his face in an attempt to reclaim his lips. He pushes you lightly away.

“Hey,” he grins. “You made your point.”

“Oh?” you say, coolly. “And what is my point?”

“That I like kissing you. That I want to kiss you, whether Hannibal’s here or not.”

“Right,” you say, twisting a corner of your quilt around one finger for something to do with your hands. “But you never would have picked me. Like, if I was in one of your FBI classes. If I was your student. Would you even have noticed me?”

Will laughs again, with a startled unease, as though the notion is foreign to him.

“Starting affairs with students isn’t exactly my style. I turn up, I teach. That’s it. I don’t get personally involved. Or didn’t, till now. Letting people get close is... uncomfortable for me.”

He glances down at the bunch of quilt in your closed knuckles. Unlike the ever-tactile Dr Lecter, he makes no attempt to take it away.

“So how come you got so close to Hannibal?” you ask. “Didn’t you say you had reservations about him?”

“He saw me even when I was making an effort to turn away. He and I have commonalities I can’t ignore, and enough differences to keep me wondering who he really is. There’s a lot even I don’t know about him, and there are times I wonder what I’m doing letting him in.”

You’re on the verge of another question as Will steps sharply back from the bed.

“We can talk more tomorrow,” he says. “I’ll still be here in the morning. But if you want my thoughts about Hannibal then it’s only fair that you tell me a little about you in return. If this is going to work long-term I need to know who you are.”

Then he goes over to the light switch and closes you in behind a shutter of night.

*

 

You’re roused from the saccharine heat of your bedcovers the following morning by Will rapping on your bedroom door. His face appears in the crevice between it and the frame as though wary to trespass, the broken spell of your desperation in his eyes.

“It’s so early,” you whine, noting the bare line of sunlight beneath the curtains. “And I feel like death, thanks to you and Dad. Can’t I stay in bed?”

“Hannibal just rushed out to an emergency appointment,” says Will. “One of his patients is having some kind of crisis, so it’ll be just you and me for a while. You want coffee? I was about to make some.”

An apology, you think, something to alleviate the swaddled and perspiring misery of your comedown.

“Sure,” you say, weakly. “Black, please. Sweetener, if there is any. The low calorie version.”

Will’s brows rise.

“You think Hannibal keeps that around?”

Reflecting on the little paper sachets that had been favoured throughout high school you say, “Ha. I guess not.”

Within twenty minutes you’re sitting up against your pillows, one hand gripping a delicate, steaming cup, the other soothing your stomach through which bites the first monthly cramp.

Will takes a nearby chair, eyeing the bars on your window as though assuming your daily view through the glass.

Though you loathe him still in his unpredictable oddities, you’re keen to make closer yet the allyship you’ve struck up with him, watchful though he is of that very attempt. If he will not help you escape, then a friendship at least may fortify the sanity you fear will leave you in this quasi childhood.

Will doesn’t seek your regression quite as Hannibal does— a cantankerous teenager is as young as he perceives you, the sick girl that never grew up. This house, then, is a Neverland in reverse, a sumptuous den of brutal sex.

Closing your eyes against such thoughts, you take in your coffee, each dark mouthful a long-acquired taste. You remember forcing back cup after cup of it, trusting it over plain water in the belief that it would burn calories as you drank.

Suddenly you’re acutely nostalgic for the days spent in your childhood room, scrolling through online threads of ailing young women in a community of mutual suffering.

It occurs to you that you may never feel so entirely comprehended without judgement as you were there again. You understand Will rather more through the thought, his convergence with Hannibal a relief to so lonely a monster.

“Tell me about ‘Dad’,” you say, into the silence. “You said you would, last night. Like, who even is he? Where did he come from?”

Will blinks, stirred up from his own brooding thoughts. In the dreary daylight he has the face of a beautiful invalid, all its angles skirted in shade.

“Hannibal’s from Lithuania, originally,” he says. “He had a younger sister, Mischa. She died a long time ago. I don’t know the finer details of what happened to her. She’s the only family he’s ever talked about, and even then it’s been bare bones.”

You sit up straighter, envisioning a young girl with Hannibal’s eyes, and none of his appetite.

“Huh,” you say. “That makes a lot of sense.”

"Hannibal would disagree. He doesn’t put much stock in the past making him who he is.”

“Seems kind of a weird thing for a therapist to say. He’s always digging into mine.”

Will looks at the floor, as though distinguishing some new pattern from the grains in the carpet.

“Hannibal views himself as... separate from other people. Being that he acts outside of ethics and the law in his own profession, I’d guess that what’s between us isn’t his only secret.”

“I’ve tried to tell you,” you say, tapping your coffee cup with bitten fingertips for emphasis. “I’ve known this for so long. But since you’re going along with his games how can you even judge him for whatever horrible things he’s doing?”

“Without knowing what he has or hasn’t done,” says Will, slowly, “I can’t say that I do.”

He gets up from his seat and paces before the window, his hands gesticulating like pigeons frenzied into startled flight.

“You assume that what I’m trying to learn about Hannibal—the core of who he is—is something ugly. But that isn’t what I’m afraid of. It’s the possibility of him lying to me. I don’t know if I could forgive him for that after the bond we’ve made. After what he encouraged me start with you.”

“You shouldn’t trust him,” you say, urgently. “Don’t. You don’t need him.”

Scoffing, Will says, “Jack seems to think I do. Alana— she’s convinced I’m one nudge away from disappearing so far into a case that I kill someone without even knowing it. Hannibal's the only one that doesn’t think of me as broken.”

You consider informing him of his suspected encephalitis, that Hannibal surely withholds this truth and more so as to keep his favour.

In the end you retain your silence; better that Will discovers the manipulation alone and behold how he has been misled upon this trail of darkness.

“Enough about me,” says Will, abruptly. “I know that someone hurt you, long before Hannibal. Before me. Someone you've never forgotten.”

Alarmed by the twist in conversation, you stammer, “I— I already told him some of it. I said I didn’t remember. But I was lying about that. I just don’t know if it was only one, long night, or it happened other times. I don’t know which is worse.”

You pause, slightly breathless. Like a portent from the white lips of some phantom you know that you must tell Will the truth, adhere him to your weeping heart with empathy for you.

“I was just a little kid,” you say. “And he was an adult. Nearly family— I used to call him Uncle Lee. Hannibal probably told you that. Anyway, I got my ‘wrong’ feeling about him way before he did what he did. Like I knew it was coming. Then he came into my room alone one night and... it happened.”

You put down your coffee cup, almost knocking it from the bedside table with the shaking of your hand. Will comes away from the window at once, dragging his chair to your bedside to listen. He neither speaks nor looks into your eyes, aware that you can bear neither without faltering.

“He touched me,” you say, “and the whole time I couldn’t even face him. I don’t even remember what I felt. Maybe I didn’t feel anything at all. Just stared at the ceiling or whatever. He did stuff to me that changed me forever. I felt like a tiny old person in a kid’s body, after that, knowing about things I wasn’t supposed to know.

“And the worst of it was still having to see him after. My parents— I tried to tell them, but I couldn’t get the words out. They just thought I didn’t like him. So he came back to the house, now and then. Never saw any consequences.

“I’ve always wondered if I was the only one, or if there were others. He was a plumber, or something; he could have access to people’s daughters anytime he wanted. Just walk into their room and... you know. I think maybe he did do that, a couple of times. Who knows.”

Your restless fingers pick at the gold embroidery on your bedspread, working it loose from the velvet. One of Will’s hands folds over yours, gently holding them still.

“What I always think about is how he treated me, afterwards,” you say. “I tried avoiding him, but it didn’t always work. One day he cornered me at the top of the stairs— my parents were in the kitchen, so it was just me and him.

“I must have been maybe twelve or so. Not far off thirteen. My body was changing. I was growing up. He said, ‘you’re getting a little chubby, you know. You ought to do something about that before you look like your mother.’

“Then he smiled at me, and just walked into the bathroom like there was nothing wrong with what had just come out of his mouth, or what he’d done to me all those years ago.”

Inhaling an unsteady breath, you try, with dubious success, to smile.

“So now you get why I’m like this. And knowing it wasn’t my fault, that Leland Frost is just a predator... it doesn’t fix anything. Like, where do I go from there?”

“He injured you,” says Will, softly. “And it may never stop hurting. But you can recover. No matter what you believe, it is possible. His shallow cruelty is not your compass. You don’t have to live on the basis of an insult.”

Scowling, you pull away from Will, trapping your hands under your armpits.

“How can I change when I’m reliving what I went through every day? Why does Hannibal think this’ll heal me? Why do you? Oh, yeah. You don’t.”

“I want it to,” says Will.

You snort dismissively.

“Yeah, yeah. Not so long ago you would have punched the air to see the back of me. You don’t want to share Hannibal with anybody.”

Will leans back in his seat, arms folded; it takes a moment for you to register that he is, by some subconscious impulse, copying your posture.

“I’m not sharing Hannibal with you,” says Will. “I’m sharing you with him. And I want to do that. You knew it before I did.”

His gaze snaps to yours, more arresting than his hands on you had been.

“You’re more like me than I cared to admit. Hannibal was right about that. And though everything about you should repulse his sensibilities he finds you adorable. You clearly don’t appreciate it, but there it is.”

You yearn to deny him, to condemn this speech as sophistry, but you are silent, as much a congregant to him as he has been to you.

“Leland Frost tore you down because he saw that you were growing up and away from him,” says Will. “He knew that one day you’d have a life, and achievements, and people that really cared about you. He was going to fade out of your world, and he couldn’t stand not leaving a mark.”

“I just don’t get it,” you whisper. “He loved me. Why did he do it?”

Will shifts his chair even closer to the bed so as to lean into you, his expression tender, tragic, sombre with a father’s sympathy.

“Leland never loved you, and that’s no reflection on you or your worth. It makes him weak, that he could throw away the relationship he had with you over an urge.”

You don’t have the strength to rage against the whited sepulchre in Will, not when he speaks the truth you’ve always yearned to hear from another. Pain winds through your body, throat to gut, great, twisting pulses, as though eviscerated on a blade of past.

What advice would Will give for you to survive what he and Hannibal have done, and will do?

Nothing. Not a word. He knows that the structure of the home, even comfort from those that afflict you has changed you in so short a time. Your desperation to be gone from him he senses, too, and with it your lust to be loved.

Will holds your hand for a long time before he speaks again, on another subject quite as dreary as the last.

“When you said it’d been years since you...”

“Since I last had my period?” you ask, touching your stomach through the sheets. “Yeah. It has been.”

Your body, the betrayer, making a scarlet banner of your betterment through cruelty.

“I never wanted it to come back. Having it again means I’m not as sick anymore, and that’s like... messing up for me.”

Will's head tilts, his face carved up by the shadows thrown from your barred window into a lattice of snow.

“Failing to die is barely a failure at all,” he comments.

You shrug yourself further under your bedcovers.

“It is if what’s happening to you is something worse,”

“Is it always so bad, being here with us?”

Will’s hand rises. Doesn’t quite touch your face. You turn your head away, but not cruelly; he’s not a bad man, you decide, only contorted so utterly from the ways of his fellows that he is some creature other, or from before, the flint-armed hunter of the caves.

And like such a creature, he seeks your answering affection for want of some warmth in the dark beginning of the earth.

You allow him to kiss your forehead, clumsily, inclined towards him as though you were not both aware of the fiction that allows this contact.

He can only guess how far you’d run from this, had you your chance. How readily you’d betray him.

*

 

You’re much recovered by the time Dr Lecter returns, having been hydrated and energised by a selection of unnamed supplements Will had you take with lunch; there is a cure for every ailment in the makeshift laboratory of the kitchen, it seems.

Hannibal discovers you at your usual perch of the parlour couch, writing in your journal with a blanket tucked loosely around you against the October cool.

Will stands to greet his companion, setting aside a book you’d offered him from your shelf to peruse, its cover depicting the bloody half-brain of the sun on a desert horizon.

“I didn’t expect our charge to be in such high spirits,” says Hannibal, with unmasked surprise. “Thank you for caring for her this morning, Will. I’m aware that whatever time you can spare for us in the midst of an investigation is very precious.”

Likely aware of your eyes on him, Will says, “I’m glad I stayed. I appreciated the company. How’s the other patient?”

“Suitably quieted. I doubt that I’ll be called away again on her behalf. Still, I made the most of the journey home.”

Hannibal reaches into a shopping bag looped over one arm and produces from it a wrapped package of fresh meat, marbling the paper with blood.

Grimacing, you say, “Ew. What is that? Looks like an organ.”

“It is. I’ll be making trippa alla romana tonight. It’s an Italian dish made from cow stomach. Don’t turn your nose up till you’ve tried it. Have I served anything to you yet that you haven’t enjoyed?”

*

After dinner, all three of the household recline, full and talking lazily before the fire. Had your company been any other than your abusers you would almost be content, for having been allowed to leave the table after a valiant half plate you are not so guilt-soaked as you’d have been had you finished it all.

You had, in fact, disliked the meal, a first in Hannibal’s house. The thought of the organ, plucked from the rib of a butcher’s shelf, had struck bile to the back of your mouth from the first bite.

A cup of chocolate, warmed to a froth and unadorned with cream is set in your hands instead, which you drink in feline licks to make it last.

Will’s phone shrills abruptly in his pocket. Frowning, he glances at the lighted oblong of its screen and starts at a familiar name.

“It’s Jack,” he says. “I’d better take this.”

He promptly exits the room, speaking with clipped tones into the device.

Alone with Hannibal, you become acutely aware of him looking at you, not quite with suspicion, but not so far from that.

"I see that you and Will are becoming close,” he says, at last. “I’m glad to see it.”

Humming vaguely, you snatch up the journal again and weave your pen about in a pretence of writing.

Hannibal says, "Still, it saddens me that—for all your pretty words of promise—you display a lesser willingness to befriend me.”

You do not answer, pressing your pen so hard against a page that it blots through to the other side.

"Put your journal down a moment, Little One,” says Hannibal. “I’m speaking to you."

Without looking up, you answer, "I don't know what you want me to say."

"You needn't say anything at all. It's your behaviour I wish to change."

In a flounce of irritation you throw the journal upon the floor, its spine creasing.

“I do what you say, and I don't fight you anymore,” you say. “Isn't that daughterly enough?"

"For the purposes of your treatment,” says Hannibal, “it is not. You remain closed to me, parted only by narcotic aid. I'd prefer you to open to me of your own volition. With Will, you prove yourself increasingly capable of that.

“I’ve given you all you’ve asked for, and more, and yet you show little gratitude. I wouldn’t wish to remove these luxuries for you to appreciate my endeavours.”

You look at him, then, this man both jealous and performing jealousy to groom you into his concubine, and in looking see that he will deconstruct your room into the barest cell, should he not have his way.

"I do appreciate what you’ve given me," you hastily protest. "I do, Daddy. You don’t have to take anything away. But I— I just don’t know you the way I know Will.”

“But you do,” says Hannibal, rising to sit beside you, a dangerous proximity. “That’s why you are so afraid of me, is it not?”

You begin to object, trailing off at the sound of approaching footfalls as the younger of your captors returns, listing in the churning swell of stress.

“It's the investigation,” says Will. “Another doll’s been found. Savannah Belmont. It’s too soon to be the Lover’s kill. He has a cool off point between each abduction.”

Hannibal straightens in his seat, rapidly alert.

“A copycat, then.”

Will nods, his throat tightening. His eyes touch your face briefly, and you offer him a small, close-lipped smile, an extension of comfort from across the room. His shoulders drop from their rigid line, and when he speaks again the frantic note in his voice is tempered slightly.

“Definitely a copycat,” he says. “The Lover disposes of the dolls by throwing them into rivers like garbage. No attempt to lay them to rest. Savannah was put on display, placed in a chair on a dirt bank as though she was waiting to be found.

“Both killers meant to degrade their victims, but only the copycat’s is implied to understand and accept that humiliation. Savannah Belmont died aware of her inferiority in the eyes of her murderer.”

You find yourself sitting on your hands to prevent them from betraying your agitation with their unsteadiness. Your leg, however, you cannot control, the right foot gyring an inch above the floor.

Hannibal eyes it without speaking, folding your reaction into the lengthy tome of his mind.

“The victim’s stomach was missing,” says Will, turning to pluck a bottle of whiskey from a nearby cabinet like some bronze fruit. “That’s new. The Lover’s mutilations are all with the purpose of fitting the bodies of his victims inside their silicone casings. He has no surgical skills.

“This new killer obviously has expertise. Savannah’s stomach was cut precisely from her body with the clear intent of taking it as a trophy.”

“Her stomach?” you repeat.

You feel the heaviness of meat within you and are chilled by the coincidence.

Hannibal could not have known what the copycat would take to reference it, could not have known of his existence to begin with, and yet as you glance at him under your lashes you don’t quite trust the seriousness of his expression, his eyes gleaming dimly as tarmac in the rain.

“You mustn’t worry, Little One,” says Hannibal, turning to lift you up onto his lap. “The Lover can’t hurt you. We will protect you, always.”

He settles your head against his chest, which resounds with the slow beat of his heart and the machinery of organs digesting his own rich meal.

The monster knows of your renewed distrust and is unthreatened by it, declawed and tooth-filed as you are by his influence over you and all the passageways of the world you’d otherwise cross in your escape.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Daddy,” you mutter, against his shirt, and the warmth of Hannibal’s palm cups your buttocks with a tormenting friction, both threat and tease at once.

While you hate him—are in terror of him, always—your form is increasingly enamoured by his touch as though it knows that it must be so, or die.

“No need to thank me for performing my duty to you, Little One,” says Hannibal, into your ear. “For you belong to me, and to Will, and you must never forget it.”

#manna fic #hannibal fic #tw noncon #tw csa #tw abuse #tw drugs #tw captivity #dead dove do not eat #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #darkfic

[odditycircus-2002]

Medusa!Reader Intro Banter

In my last post, you may have expected to have read some intro dialogue for the banter. Initially, I was gonna put a few characters for the intro, but then as I was thinking of the dialogue in my head, it expanded to more than just a few characters. And why deny me of that sort of fun? That's why the intro dialogue gets its own post! So for context, the reader is a Medusa-like creature, able to turn other beings into stone, and is married to Shang Tsung. If you'd like to read more about them for context, you can go ahead and check out these head cannons below.

TW: Suggestive and mentions of death and gore. If you're a fan of MK, you know what you're getting into.

First

Second

Third

Bonus

Yourself (Mirror Match)

Y/N 1: Am I correct to presume that Shang Tsung made you?

Y/N 2: How do I know that YOU'RE not the construct?

Y/N 1: We and Shang Tsung are going to need talk after this.

/

Y/N 1: Are you of my past or future?

Y/N 2: I've come to warn you to take out both Quan Chi and Shao Khan.

Y/N 1: Say no more.

/

Y/N 1: I was unaware you're still alive after all these years, sister.

Y/N 2: From what I've heard, you were the one behind my "illness".

Y/N 1: It was nothing against you. I had to test whether my medicine worked on humans somehow.

/

Shang Tsung (Your Hubby💕)

Shang: This takes me back...

Y/N teasingly: Why so sentimental?

Shang: We had a similar confrontation before making love under the moonlight.

/

Shang: Did you mourn for me, my sweet?

Y/N seriously: It took every ounce of my will not to completely spiral into madness when Shao Khan took you away from me.

Shang taken aback: I am... so sorry to have caused such pain.

/

Shang: Are you so surprised, princess?

Kitana: I find it impossible to believe you found someone like Y/N rather than clone her.

Shang: There's no use in replicating anyone like my wife.

/

Sonya: Is your wife aware of how much you've been chasing my damn tail?

Shang: She knows I'm having fun before I collect you for her garden.

Sonya: No way in fucking hell, Shang Tsung!

/

Y/N: I'm not usually the vengeful type of woman, as I find such reasons to be not worthy of my time.

Shao Khan: Is there a point to your insistent prattling, wench?

Y/N angered with all her snakes hissing: You are the exception and more than worthy of my fury.

Mileena

Mileena: You helped Shang Tsung create me?

Y/N fondly: I remember the day you opened your beautiful eyes.

Mileena trepidatious: Do you think the same with the rest of me?

/

Y/N: We shared the same pain of grief.

Mileena: yet YOUR lover came back, MINE didn't!

Y/N: I could help remedy that... for a price.

/

Mileena: Do you really believe I'm a fine Khanum?

Y/N: Better than your father, although you could do with a healthy amount of grace during your rule.

Mileena: *gives a growl in irritation* Like my sister?

Sindel

Sindel angrily: Never again will I be your or anyone's puppet.

Y/N: Aw, such a shame; you were and are my favorite puppet.

Sindel: You will be executed for the good of all the realms.

/

Sindel: Once upon a time, I thought that, like me, you were forced into a marriage by a cruel man.

Y/N: And now, your Highness?

Sindel: Now I know you and Shang Tsung are equals in evil.

/

Sindel with her voice trembling in rage: You killed Sheeva!

Y/N with a tranquil grin: Technically, you did so with your hands, not me.

Sindel: I will repent for her by wiping that smug grin off you before you can even blink!

Baraka

Y/N: So beautiful and fascinating...

Baraka squints his eyes in suspicion: What is your trick this time, Snake?

Y/N: No trick, just admiring a fine specimen.

/

Baraka: If you are so "fond" of Mileena and Tarkatans, where were you when Kotal wiped us out?

Y/N: In hiding lest I had the same fate fall upon me.

Baraka: Spineless coward!

/

Y/N: I would like to observe some of your rituals for research purposes.

Baraka: Only if you can beat me mercilessly in Kombat!

Y/N with a wide grin: It should be no trouble at all, then.

D'Vorah

Y/N: Such a fascinatingly resilient species.

D'Vorah: Appreciating how This One's the epitome of the ultimate species?

Y/N: Indeed. The perfect test subjects for my experiments.

/

D'Vorah: This One must ask if your snakes are all part of you?

Y/N: My "hair" and I all share one mind if you're dying to know.

D'Vorah: Even so, the Hive outnumbers you by many.

/

D'Vorah: You say This One reminds you fondly of your youth?

Y/N: I remember coming across insects resembling you while watching them feast upon the deceased fauna, as a little girl.

D'Vorah: Then may it comfort you in your last moments while This One uses you to feed The Hive.

Kollector

Y/N: You have the most beautiful eyes.

Kollector: Flattery or not, these eyes will never be for sale.

Y/N with a wicked grin: I never intended to buy, Kollector.

/

Kollector: Shao Khan demands your head.

Y/N: I will not give that brainless brute even a single scale from it.

Kollector: The choice is not for you to make, milady.

/

Y/N: I will not give Shao Khan, not even a single root from my cabinet.

Kollector: I must collect ALL that the Empire requires.

Y/N: Then I'll take four of your arms as compensation.

Kano

Kano: Well, color me gobsmacked, and I thought I had some out there tastes.

Y/N: Shang has far more manners and dignity than you ever will; you waste of air!

Kano: It doesn't make him less of a freak for marrying a literal snake lady.

/

Y/N: I require your services.

Kano: I don't DO that sort of thing, well, unless I've had enough grog.

Y/N irritated: I meant for you to steal from the Khan's gardens for its rare herbs.

/

Kano: Oi! I thought you were supposed to take care of your hubby's island.

Y/N: It was too empty for my liking after my love's passing and his followers requested the most potent poisons I had in storage.

Kano: Eh. Thanks to you, its treasures were free for the taking.

/

Scorpion (Hanzo Hasashi)

Y/N: Once, I was desired and sought after by all the men in my village and beyond for my beauty.

Hanzo: It is only fitting then that your outward appearance reflects your wretchedness.

Y/N: You can thank the Elder Gods for that.

/

Hanzo: I should have never come to you for your help.

Y/N: We both wanted Quan Chi's head, no matter the price.

Hanzo: The consequences afterward were far worse than I could have ever imagined.

/

Y/N: You cannot achieve your goal by yourself, and where did that bring you? Right back to me.

Hanzo, desperate: Please, Y/N, my clan has fallen ill with a long-extinct illness that only you can cure.

Y/N: I am sure you already know what sort of boon I will ask of you?

A/N: Don't forget to like this post, share, and repost! 😁😁😁😁😁Stay Weird, my fellow humans.

Playlist while Writing this:

"The Scorpion and the Frog" featuring Marc Senter,Jessica Lowndes, and Terrance Zdunich

"Prick! Goes the Scorpion's Tail" featuring Emilie Autumn

"Babooshka" by Kate Bush

"Zydrate Anatomy" by Terrance Zdunich

"I Can't Decide" by the Scissor Sisters

"Such Horrible Things" by Creature Feature

"Bad Blood" by Creature Feature

"Here There be Witches" by Creature Feature

"Mad Hatter" by Melanie Martinez

"Tag You're It" by Melanie Martinez

"Milk and Cookies" by Melanie Martinez

(for more like this)

Part II

#mortal kombat #Oddball Writes #MK #mk11 #mk x reader #mortal kombat x reader #shang tsung x reader #shang tsung #mortal kombat 11 #Mileena #Sindel #Baraka #D'Vorah #Kollector #Kano #mk scorpion #hanzo hasashi

[chaithetics]

Hello!!! Hope ur doing well <3

I looooved the way u wrote Matt n I wanted to ask if u could do a nsfw alphabet about him? But I also noticed on ur masterlist u havent written one yet and if u dont want to thats fine :>

Matt Murdock NSFW Alphabet

Hello lovely Nonnie! Thank you for sending this through, this was a nice, quick and fun piece to do so thanks for sending it through. Happy to do nsfw nbcs, I just never have had a request for one before. It's obviously my first time, so I hope you enjoy! Do let me know what you think! :)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!!, smutty smut smut I guess? Not proof or beta read!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

This man lives for aftercare. Matt Murdock is without a doubt, absolutely obsessed with physical touch and indulging in it after the act as a form of aftercare, no matter the type of sex you just had, oral or penetrative. He’s obsessed with your body and how your skin feels against his and how your skin feels when he runs his fingertips over goosebumps, scars, moles, stretch marks, all of your curves and muscles. He likes to be clean but even if he’s sweaty he still likes to cuddle you, he needs to feel your skin against his, to press his head into your neck to tickle your sensitive skin and to deeply inhale your scent. He’s attentive to any needs you have, he smiles as he listens to your heart steadily beating and relaxing from that high, and he’s extremely affectionate. If you have hair he’ll be playing with it however he knows that you like and if not, he’ll be caressing your face gently as well while you cuddle. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favourite body part of a partner’s is their mouth/lips. He loves the way that his partner’s mouth feels against his, how soft it is to kiss, the shape of your lips and tracing them with his fingertips, how he can feel your lips move and it affects the rest of your face when you smile and laugh, how your mouth is where your gorgeous laugh comes from, your voice, and also the moans he loves to hear from you. 

His favourite body part of his, is his hands. He loves physical touch and his hands allow him to indulge in that sense by being affectionate and being able to touch your body all over. He can caress you with his hands, feel the goosebumps along your bare skin when you strip down, he can feel how you clench around his digits when he’s inside of you. His hands are the perfect way for him to indulge in you. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s a Catholic… He’d use the preferred protection methods of his partners but he has no issue with cum. I don’t know if this is a controversial take, but Matt Murdock is certainly into cumplay… 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants to explore his submissive side more, he likes the slight feeling of dominance with a partner who bites him, he likes his neck being bitten. He either hasn’t tried pegging but really wants to be pegged, or he’s been pegged and really loves it but it takes him a little while to work up to feeling comfortable communicating that. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

To absolutely nobody’s surprise, Matt is extremely experienced. He has a playful charm that makes everyone in a five-block radius swoon. As Foggy has pointed out over and over again, he’s an absolute magnet for beautiful people of all shapes, sizes, and colours, and people absolutely fall for his handsome, tortured soul energy that he brings to everything. He certainly didn’t shy away from the attention in college he got for his looks and charm, one of the only ‘sins’ he didn’t feel the need to repent for in his college years. Foggy’s jokes have been longstanding in Matt’s life. He’s an experienced icon, he knows what he likes now and he knows how to please. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Matt’s favourite position is positions of cuddle and spooning sex. He loves the intimacy of becoming one and being as physically close to each other as possible, the position is sensual and intimate and he loves being able to press right up against you, your buddies wrap around each other and having his face pressed so closely to you. He can feel everything about you with all of his senses in the most overwhelming and amazing way. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Matt is a more serious lover, there’s gentle caresses and words spoken that are filled with love and need. Sometimes, in a slightly more cockier mood he may be a little less serious and have that devilish grin on his face and make a couple of more teasing comments and witty remarks to spice things up while he’s bringing you to release, but generally he’s more serious when you two are together during sex. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) 

Matt likes to be well-groomed in general and that applies to all of him including downstairs, he doesn’t necessarily like shaving down there but his preference is that he likes to keep things tidy and trimmed for himself. A view he’d never oppose on others and he’d never criticise or be put off by hair or a lack of.  

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

The intimacy is never lacking with Matt, he’s proud on his lovemaking abilities and he knows he’s an expert of the art of making partners swoon with his big brown eyes and charms. Matt is a passionate, sensual, lover who always makes sure you feels special and checks in on you in the sweetest, most genuine but also hot ways. He knows just how to romance you up and make the foreplay incredible with the goal of giving you as much pleasure as possible. He loves intimacy, there’s lots of affectionate touching, the sex often is in cuddling positions. His body moves in ways to reassure you of how much he yearns and worships you, his words are filled with love and passion during sex. He makes it intimate and filled with love. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t jack off very often. He prefers being intimate with others and he’s always had plenty of opportunities for mutual pleasure with others that he’s rarely felt the need to pleasure himself like that. He rarely does, and whenever he has he usually does it in the shower. He tries to focus on the feelings of pleasure and on the sound of the shower water running to drown out the rest of the overwhelming landscape of New York while he chases his high with swift strokes. But he prefers the feeling of someone else’s hands, fortunately, he has you now. And your hands are better than any feeling he could ever give himself. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Matt’s delved into and is pretty into bondage. He likes the feeling of the power dynamics, the gain and loss of power and control, how it feels on skin. He doesn’t mind who is who, he’s more than happy to be tied up for you and to surrender that type of control to you. He trusts you and wants to be used to give you as much pleasure as possible. But he’s also more than okay with being the one to tie you up and feel those materials against your skin and wear his signature smirk as he does. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Matt isn’t an exhibitionist and he’s not really into public or outdoors sex. He much prefers to keep sex in the privacy of his own home, the world is often overwhelming for him and there’s always a million things going on, in his little private corner that’s home, his partner can be just all his and it’s much easier for him to focus on and enjoy being with his partner. He loves the comfort and intimacy of keeping it in the bedroom, but Matt also loves the intimacy of spooning and cuddle sex on the couch. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Matt’s a giver, a pleaser, what gets him going is the mere idea of pleasuring you, he just wants to please you and give you the sweet, sweet, sweet release you deserve. It’s what turns him on and what gets him going, you always need to orgasm first, that’s his goal during intimacy and he tried to create an orgasm gap, one that’s in your favour. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s into bondage and we know that he has nothing against some light choking, but beyond that, he’s the type of man who still tries to be as good and respectful as possible. He wouldn’t be into more rough and violent sex or the more hardcore side of BDSM, he’d always be too scared to hurt his partners and the idea of inflicting intentional pain like that makes him very uncomfortable. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Matt is more than okay with receiving oral but there’s not doubt about it, he significantly prefers giving oral instead of receiving. As we’ve already clarified, he’s a giver. He wants to give you oral as much as you want him to, he’d happily spend his life buried in you, holding onto, gripping and caressing your thighs as he does. He’s obsessed with your taste, the way your body reacts as he’s pleasuring you and how he can sense everything going on with your hormones, pheromones, heartbeat, your breathing and then again as you orgasm. He loves to give oral and he’s absolutely skilled at it, he’s a king of it. He knows just how to use his mouth in the best possible way that makes you feel so good and gets you in your favourite places. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

His pace and style is always sensual when he’s with you. He’s done faster paced sex and sex that’s been more rough but he loves slow, sensual lovemaking while he cuddles and buries himself deep into you with a perfect pace that makes it last and is the definition of sensual. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) 

He likes to go all out with sex, for everyone involved to get their fair share of orgasms. Matt isn’t the biggest fan of his quickies but in angsty moments, he has been known to have a more angsty, potentially more rougher quickie than his usual slower and sensual lovemaking. It’s still filled with passion though. But he doesn’t do quickies often. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Matt’s definitely game to experiment and to communicate about it, listen to ideas with an open-mind and he’s curious in a charming way about things. He’s open to trying new positions, new toys, some different styles and dynamics. But he’s not into risks or experimentation that’s on the more moderate to extreme side of the spectrum. He’s not an exhibitionist type so he wouldn’t take those kind of risks with sexual activity and he wouldn’t be into risks in the world of bodily harm for example. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Matt lives off giving pleasure in the bedroom and is more than content with just going one round or having one orgasm if you’ve received everything you wanted and needed. He’s flexible and happy to please. But it also goes without saying that this man is the definition of sexual stamina, he can easily go multiple rounds and has no issue with lasting long. His rounds definitely aren’t short. He’s only interested in multiple rounds though if it’s what you crave. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Matt never owned toys and didn’t use them on himself, over time he started to experiment with toys and would happily use them on partners and had nothing against them really. He’d always smile while holding one in his hands, feeling it as a partner told him what it did and how it was used. This man has no security issues with toys, and views them as aids and fun, not competition.

 After dating you, there’s a drawer in the dresser that has a few different toys which he has no issue with. He’s definitely more experienced with them now, having tried things like vibrating strokers but he much prefers using toys on his partner. There’s an immediate smirk on his face as he turns them on, starts using them and hears your sweet noises and feels your body react. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s a pleaser and a giver, he’s not really into edging because he just wants to give you pleasure, as much of it as he can, as soon as possible. There are times where he can be a bit playful and tease you, but you don’t even really need to beg for him to stop teasing and give in. He’s just so eager to please and doesn’t want to waste time when he could be loving on your body and making you so happy. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Matt’s pretty vocal and he’s not ashamed of that. He lets out a lot of groans as his brow furrows during sex, it’s an automatic response from him, he naturally makes noises, he’s known to whimper when he’s feeling sensitive and overstimulated, he moans but its his groans that are his loudest, most often and sexiest noise. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

That he can become a really needy and clingy lover, especially if you’re coming to the end after a day of multiple rounds. He’s always got to have at least one hand of his on you, he smothers you in kisses. He has you laid on the bed and he’s just still lazily going down on you, slowly as if you’re a dessert that he needs to be savoured. You also happen to be the best dessert he’s ever been able to put in his mouth and enjoy. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Whatever you rock with! 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Generally, Matt Murdock has a longing in his bones that his eyes cannot hide and pierces you with a desperate yearning for touch and love, in that type of matter of the word. But his sex drive is moderate and flexible, he gets a lot of pleasure out of giving pleasure so he doesn’t have an issue being with partners with lower or higher sex drives. He’s someone though who would be happy to just give much more often than receive or have penetrative intercourse as well though. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It depends. He’s big on aftercare and physical affection, so he definitely prioritises that and wouldn’t fall asleep immediately as he’d want to spend time cuddling and talking. After a long ‘double-shift’ of his lawyer by day and vigilante by night lifestyle, there would be times after sex where he would cuddle you and after a bit of talk, he’d fall asleep cuddling you and listening to the drum of your heartbeat as it lulls him to sleep. But sometimes he just likes to cuddle and talk to a ridiculous hour in the morning, he’s definitely an insomniac.

#matt murdock #matthew murdock #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fic #matt murdock x reader smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock headcanon #daredevil fandom #daredevil smut #netflix daredevil #marvel daredevil #daredevil #chaitheticsasks #chaitheticsrequest #chaithetics #alphabet #matt murdock headcanons