1 - 20 of 21 Works by Dastardly_Imbecile
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He leans down, brushing his mouth over your ear. Lower, until his lips touch your cheek, your neck. The moment he bites down is lost, because he slides a finger into you simultaneously, and you cannot tell one sensation from the other. Something is being taken from you and something is being given to you.
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When your husband Johnny returns from Count Riley's estate, he is different in a way that runs blood-deep, in a way that you have always been.
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Dracula if Dracula was freaky and Johnathan Harker was freaky and also Mina was freaky. wait that might just be nosferatu 2024 -
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All roads lead to Rome and, unfortunately, quite a few channels of his mind link back to the same old story, the same old man.
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Hannibal's sojourn in Italy and what(who) he spends his time thinking about.
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hannibal attempts to cope with a long distance relationship -
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You can imagine him so well as some ancient king, strangely enough. In repose upon his throne, Laodicean in manner. Legs opened wide, shirt riding up around the hard edges of his torso, just enough that you can see the trails of fine, light hair that sprout from the channels of his stomach.
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Food Critic!Reader enters Chef!Simon's restaurant. I'm sure we can all guess how this goes.
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anton ego finds love -
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Jealousy petty enough that you know it’s childish, but still, you look at Simon—always straight-backed, at attention, watching Price with something that approaches reverence, worship for the hands that shaped him from the great primordial mire and brought him to this glorious cage of esse—and you wonder what he has that you lack.
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As the good Doctor's research assistant, you must take care of both him and his monster.
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this is all an excuse to make a throuple, isn't it? -
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Only a second more of your hand moving over his cock, thumb planting a whorled kiss on the tip, before you lean forwards and allow your lips to envelop him. Immediately, his left hand—the empty one—shoots out, threading instinctively through your hair, pulling your face back and up. The pose exposes your neck to him, and there is a flicker of bright, animal fear in your pupils—before, as always, it’s quickly subsumed by the force of your smile.
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A series of meetings between you and König on the battlefield. Who's the hunter, and who's the prey?
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someone needs to put this man down -
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Still has your phone, too. Leaves your search tabs untouched, leaves your apps opened just as they were, just like your products still litter the bathroom counter, just like he put your half-finished leftovers in the freezer, cold and permanent as the dead.
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The experience of death and pseudo-rebirth and all that comes with it. -
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Simon nods at you. He’s tall enough that, at the angle your phone points, the slant of light only reaches his neck, face still obscured in shadow. You can make out, through the barest changes in shades of gray, the suggestion of a nose, the theory of a brow, hypothesis of the lips. Indistinct enough that you could not draw him, defined enough that you can recognize him.
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When you cannot trust your own memory, alone on a trip in the woods, what else is there to do but submit?
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the incomprehensible monster who haunts your campsite is an alcoholic -
Among the Roots and Baby's Breath by Dastardly_Imbecile
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
29 May 2025
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Summary
You have a bit of a hard time comparing, pushing the image of König before you, smaller than he really is, consoling you and being consoled in turn, with what else you know he is. Contrasting it against the King of the forest, ostensibly, tall as an oak and broad as a mountainside, predator of some order and cunning of another, ripping open a deer’s stomach with his bare hands. Trailing after you, you, for some reason that you still haven’t been able to pin down.
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You’re a witch, summoning a guide to lead you through the forest. Unbeknownst to you, he knows you a bit better than you know him.
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Stalker!konig, but make it fantasy. Also, Graves is an asshole -
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Something about the way you—as holy as anything could ever be—letting him, man of blood and ochre touch you, bask in your evanescence. Tear you down to Earth from your heavenly demesne, down to the frozen wastes of Hell and all below. The concept turns him on more than he’d care to admit, tightens the pressure in his pants.
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Simon finds an angel (or something better, something beyond)
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simon goes INSANE over a 6 month situationship with an otherworldly being -
Mechanical Butterfly by Dastardly_Imbecile
Fandoms: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021)
06 May 2025
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Again, silence, but this time because she’s thinking. Viktor watches her intently, waiting for a response, eyes a brown so light it borders on amber—both narrowed, focused. Reminds Silco of Singed, the way he decides upon a goal, does not let anything sway his course. He wonders what a child raised by that man’s particular psyche might turn out to be like.
He wonders what a child raised by his own would.
---Viktor doesn't run from Singed, instead staying in Zaun. Silco sees the burgeoning inventor in the young girl he found, after Vander. Collaborations abound!
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In another life, he’s the best guitar player in the world, but in this one, the instrument is hidden under an inch-thick layer of dust. When he picks it up, hands pressing the out-of-tune strings down, he gets the weirdest feeling that it’s alive, that he’s holding it by the neck with his cold hands and he could break it just as something else broke him.
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Sam is a vampire. You are a vampire hunter. Shenanigans ensue.
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egregiously long exploration of sam's 'predator prey' kinkupdated bc i somehow managed to paste an entire chapter of another fic into the beginning and didn’t notice
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- Part 3 of Bachelor Oneshots
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Used to be, you would put your chin on his shoulder and watch him work, whispering ideas in his ears when you wanted to be helpful, whispering other things when you were in the mood for distraction. Galatea carved in statuesque marble, naked and tangled in his sheets, coyly asking him if you were inspiring him.
Now, now you are Aphrodite wreathed in seafoam, beautiful in raw, brutal edges, nestled within the mouth of a clamshell.
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Elliott loves you, dead at sea. Elliott loves you, somehow still alive.
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an elaborate excuse to make elliott a monsterfuckerSeries
- Part 2 of Bachelor Oneshots
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He’s gotten braver. Creeps up to their bed in the night, looming above. So fragile. Would be easy enough to crush any bone in that body, to peel back that skin and see the deformities within. Perhaps the dungeons have decided to go inside-out, and one day, feathers will burst through their skin and they will choke on the beak that pierces through their throat.
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Feelings? What are these? Not things that a crow should have, but-
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Junior year. There was nothing dramatic, no fallout, no shouting—he thinks that that’s how Lucy would’ve liked it to go, maybe, which perhaps makes it worse—simply the fact that, halfway through the year, she stopped showing up. That was during his concert circuit, when he bought this suit, when he was going to New York and London and Chicago, playing in front of faceless crowds, and by the time he was home long enough to realize she’d stopped showing up, it was quite too late to ask.
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Prom night. Schroeder's already missing out on practicing, but the only thing that can make it worse is that Lucy is Charlie Brown's date. -
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He should ask you. Ask you what this is, what he feels, ask you what you did to him—because it has to be you, it all traces back to you—and how to fix it. But if he does that, maybe you will deny. Or, worse, you will confirm, and you will patch him up, and then he will forget you once again. Because that’s what happened before: he’s sure of it, some reiteration of this cycle, falling down, rising up, just as his life has always been, some microcosm of the destiny of Shane, star Gridball player to alcoholic to whatever this is.
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Shane knows you. Yet, he can't remember you. You've done this all before, haven't you?
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You wipe Shane's memory and then romance him again and he's sad and confused.Series
- Part 1 of Bachelor Oneshots
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By the time he makes it home, an hour later, it is approaching midnight. For once, the roles as he slips into bed are reversed—Caroline sleeping, him creeping like a burglar under the sheets—and he almost feels guilty until he gets a whiff of the scent on the sheets, something like mushrooms and ozone, and he remembers watching her meander off towards the fortune-teller’s tent during the fair.
If he’s some sort of sinner, then she is too, broke the inviolable contract of marriage, and Pierre has never been one for unequal bargains.
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Five times it isn't Pierre's fault and one time it is.
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Pierre's life sucks and he gravitates towards the one thing that brings him joy: Morris
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Old Man Yaoi(sad version) -
And He Came Down Upon Wings of Snow by Dastardly_Imbecile
Fandoms: The Mandela Catalogue (Web Series)
21 Mar 2023
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Summary
You’re sure that something is watching you. More than sure, actually—it’s not anything so small as a hunch or a feeling. No, it’s a bone-deep fear. This is what the antelope feels when it sees the flickering cheetah in the grass, this is that swooping feeling in your stomach when you trip while holding something valuable. Impending doom coming from above like some hawk on wide wings against a small, shivering rabbit.
And the worst part is: you know that you cannot do a single thing about it.
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In which there is a you, a presence, and an angel. -
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Gavin has some choice thoughts about Connor, all stemming from a single offer of help.
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A fireplace, a cup of tea, a massage. All's well in a night with Hannibal.
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Trapped On an Island With Dr. Livesey by Dastardly_Imbecile
Fandoms: Остров сокровищ | Return to Treasure Island (1988)
19 Jan 2023
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Summary
Exactly what it says on the tin. Vaguely leaning towards Livesey x Reader? Maybe?
Wrote this for a friend, and am not actually familiar with Treasure Island. Apologies for non-canon-compliance.