#If I rip off your legs and rip out your eyes you'll have no choice but to listen to me.

[l1tw1ck]

Compromised

Bottom!FTM Peter Parker x Top!Villain CEO!Masc Reader

🕸️ Word Count: 1,226 🕸️

AFAB Language Used | this *might* become a multi-chapter fic but this part won't be canon, i changed my mind after i started the second chapter and this wouldn't fit 😭 so just treat it as a oneshot

CW: Non-Con, Kidnapping, Drugging, Blood, Virginity Loss, Cunnilingus, Creampie

Peter looks up at you with blurry vision, his body bruised and bloody. He can barely move.

You rip off his mask. “Aren't you the one who works for Jameson? I always knew your pictures were too good.” You chuckle. “You are cute though.”

He's fading in and out of consciousness, he can barely comprehend your words.

“I’ll be taking you home with me.”

Peter slowly opens his eyes, still feeling dizzy and weak. He looks down and fear instantly hits him. He's completely naked and tied up. He looks around the room for anything to help him while trying to break his restraints with brute force.

The noise draws you inside.

“Yo- you-” He recognizes you. The CEO of a company that rivals Stark Industries and Oscorp.

“I have a plan for you, Parker.” You walk over to him. “I’ll let you live and I won't tell a soul about your identity. In return, you'll help me take down Stark Industries.”

“Kidnapping someone isn't really a great way to propose a partnership, you know.” He manages to keep up his persona, trying to calculate how he can get out of this.

“Well, appealing to you isn't a part of my plan. How you feel about this doesn't matter to me. You won't have a choice once my subordinate gets his hands on you.”

“Wh- what are you gonna do to me?”

You slowly untie him. “Just a little memory altering. I’d love to train you but there's not enough time…it’s too bad.” You brush his hair to the side. He tries to hit you but it's too difficult, he only grazes your cheek. You laugh at his attempt and grab his wrists. “Don't worry, I won't hurt you after today. You’ll be spoiled rotten. My special little spider.”

“No– no! Don't touch me!” He squirms around in your hold.

“I should've known a single dose wouldn't be effective enough.” You let go of him and turn to the supply cart next to him. He tries to shoot a web to stop you from whatever you’re trying to do, but only a weak spurt leaves his wrist. He then attempts to get on the ground and crawl. You ignore him and prepare his next injection. He feels humiliated as he continues to crawl towards the door. The fact that you're not even looking at him tells him that he doesn't have a chance. But he tries anyway.

He only ends up a couple inches away from where he started when you ‘catch’ him and turn him around. You use one hand to pin his arms above his head and use the other to inject a serum meant to sedate and arouse him. “Don't worry, Peter, you won't remember any of this. If that makes you feel better. I just wanna have some fun with you first.” You toss the empty syringe.

“Get- get away from me–” He tries everything he can to hurt you but his remaining strength is starting to dwindle as the serum runs through his body. You pry his legs apart and stick your head in between. You drag your tongue up his folds then lovingly suck on his dick. You bring your hands to his chest and circle his sensitive nipples. He subconsciously raises his hips and whimpers.

“No- no- no-” He shakes his head, crying. He doesn't want to lose his virginity like this, not here, not to you. “Uhn~” His toes curl. His spidey senses are going off, making it even harder to think. The drug is making the spider parts of him go haywire, it's not working properly. It's aggressively ringing all the alarm bells inside him. His webs weakly shoot out of his wrists like a deflating balloon. His head is pounding. His brain is yelling at him.

Defend yourself. Hurt them. Kill them. Call for help. Run. Give in. Give in.

Give in.

It feels so good. It feels so good.

I wanna come. I wanna come.

His hands stick to the ground, his legs spread further apart, his mouth hangs open to sing noisy, wordless praises to compliment your skill.

“Stop!” He cries out.

Don't stop. Don't stop!

Yes!

Peter gasps, his hips jerking upwards as he squirts on your face. His head presses against the floor. His body trembles. Then he calms down.

He raises his head and looks at you as you pull away from him. His eyes follow your hands as they unzip your pants. As they free your hard dick. As they direct it onto his wet pussy. Then he focuses on your cock. Your length. Your girth.

I want it.

“No-” His voice trembles. “Don't- don't put that- inside me!”

Shove it inside me. I need it. Fill me. Mold my body to fit you. Ruin me.

The head of your cock slowly breaches him. Peter’s webs shoot out like a can of silly string on its last legs. Weak little spurts continue to leave him. Both from his wrist and from his cunt. He feels weaker every time.

It hurts. It’s too big. It hurts.

“It's interesting to see how your body reacts to the drug.” You wipe the tears from his eyes. “It's too bad I won't be using it again…Although I am interested in what’ll happen once my subordinate alters your memories…maybe I’ll tell them to make you an obedient slut for me.”

Own me.

“Ple- please-” He gasps. He's not entirely sure what he's begging for. His brain is sending conflicting messages.

You lean into his ear. “Admit it, Spidey, you love how big I am and how well I fill your tight fucking pussy.”

I love it.

“I hate– ugh-” He hisses.

I'm so full.

“I’ll kill you..” He clenches his fists.

“Oh, but I thought Spider-Man didn't kill?”

“..ma- make an exception-” He loses his ability to grip, his fists come undone as you bottom out.

“Really? I’m honored, sweetheart.” You slowly pull out, stopping before you fully leave him. “You're bleeding. Guess I was too rough.” You lick your lips at the red coating on your cock.

“You're disg—uh~!” You suddenly thrust inside him and knock the wind out of him, a longer string of web leaving his body. His whimpering and gasping quickly turns into whines and moans as you fuck him. His eyes roll to the back of his head. The bandage and wound on his cheek loosens and opens up, causing blood to run down his face. His brain starts to feel like scrambled eggs.

“Doesn't it feel good, baby?”

He responds with a jumbled mess of words that are impossible to decipher. You already took a bunch of pictures of him earlier but you find yourself wishing you still had that camera with you. In this state, he's more beautiful than any of the artwork in the Metropolitan. You grab his sides, triggering the pain in his sore, bruised body. He makes a loud and erotic noise in response.

He writhes around, sobbing and trying to squirm out of your hold. He manages to say “Please–!”.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Your thrusts stop as you come inside him. You let go of him and brush the hair out of his face, then wipe his blood.

His body twitches, like a spider that's been stepped on.

[breadmecoshy]

Marissa, victimized by an infection

I came up with the concept of an infected Marissa who could become a secret boss in the game

When you come to her for the first time, she behaves as usual and asks you to listen to her song. You sit down in your seat, listen, she thanks you, and you leave. However, if you don't convert her into essence right away, the next time you visit her, she changes her appearance a little, and again asks you to listen to her sing, a little more insistently. As a result, with each of your visits, the signs that she is infected will become more obvious, and she will ask you to stay more and more intrusive, until finally she wants you to listen to her forever, and then the boss fight will happen

I think the Radiance captured her mind with bright memories of her beloved city and its inhabitants, now stricken by the plague, of her bright concerts and former glory, and of close friends who disappeared, were infected or were preparing to fall asleep forever. Most likely, she died possessed by these visions, and her ghost, who remained on the stage, unaware of his death, was also possessed

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 3 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: He tries to be nice for once to win you over, but is he being genuine? Or will it backfire? All the while your mind is playing confusing tricks on you.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of rape, violence, mentions of murder, body issues, trauma talk, hinting at stockholm syndrome, manipulation, mentions of erection/arousal/masturbation, mentions of abuse earlier in life, not beta read, 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

"I do not intend to rape you, if that is what you think."

It was weird. The words were supposed to comfort you, right? Make you breathe easier. Instead you felt your chest tighten. Again.

Because he brought it up out of nowhere? Who could tell?

You sat on the couch, your arms wrapped around your legs like they usually were ever since you started participating in his mind games. It wasn't really like you had any other choice.

Your body, once young and healthy, albeit loaded with trauma to the brim, felt bruised and battered. It was a fight you were forced to fight every day and it felt like war. War against him, against yourself and life itself. Your face hurt horribly and it was all his fault. Or was it your own? God, you were confused.

"Don't get me wrong. I do intend to fuck you." His eyes crinkled in a smile. "Oh, I intend to fuck you again and again and again, until you feel like you're being ripped apart and you'll be begging me to stop."

There was it again, the cold sweat. Almost like an old friend you could count on.

Why didn't you have any real friends? You suddenly asked yourself. If only you had invested one of your Sundays into getting to meet at least one person. Maybe then someone would miss you now.

There was still your work. But you couldn't really tell if they'd get suspicious after you stopped coming or if maybe they simply accepted it. Your boss knew you had some issues. How you hated confrontration. He probably assumed you simply were gone for good.

Poor girl. Well, whatever, time is money. At least I get to keep her last paycheck.

But somehow you were sure that no one really missed you. No one waited for you at home. And no one cared that you still spent your days in the captivity of a psychopath. Or was it a sociopath? What was the damn difference again?

"Why don't you do it then?" You heard yourself ask.

One might think you would have learned your lesson not to talk back the day when he threw everything edible away and turned off the water supply. Or after he just beat the crap out of you.

But no, here you were, being smart with him. At least right now he didn't seem to mind. His fucked up smile was still in place.

"Because, my sweet, darling girl", he said slowly and crouched down before you, "because I want to fuck you when you're mine. I don't want scraps and pitiful silence. I'm not like the filth I threw on the train lines."

A violent shiver ran down your spine. It was the first time he mentioned the incident. For a few days you had almost asked yourself if that had really happened. And you had also asked yourself if your life so far had been a hallucination. Maybe you had always been his prisoner and maybe you had made up the role of your mother to keep yourself entertained and somehow deal with everything. They did have a lot in common.

"I want it willingly."

Odd. He didn't seem like the gentle type. Or the type who cared about consent.

"Don't mistake my words. I'm going to fuck you, no matter how you feel."

Ah.

"I don't give a shit if you feel sore, you have a headache, you've been crying or you're bleeding. I don't care if it is me who made you bleed." He leaned in so close that his warm, minty breath tickled your ear. "All the better."

For a moment, you were sure he was gonna bite your earlobe. A sound rumbled in his throat, almost like a groan and his lips were so close to your skin, you felt the wet warmth of that groan. But eventually, he pulled his head back and instead stared at you intensely.

"God, I want you."

The last two days had been weirder than usual. Instead of playing tricks on your mind and hitting you till blood trickled down your lip, he had been...considerate? It was hard to tell if that was the right word for it.

Many things were hard to tell nowadays.

It started with the dresses. He once came home - home, God help you - carrying countless bags which contained pretty and expensive dresses. All in your size and all to your liking.

Your style so far had been modest and humble, convenient mostly.

You knew that you could be pretty when you tried and wanted. Yet on most days you simply didn't care enough.

But when he came back with the dresses and left them in your room - and after you had spent enough hours sulking in the corner and being devastated about your loss of dignity when he forced you to drink water from a fucking bowl on the ground - Be a good girl and drink. I'd be really annoyed if you died of thirst. Yes, just like that. My good girl. - your curiosity finally got the better of you and you glanced into one of the bags.

Everything from silk to cashmere, with no ridiculous colors in sight. Everything was black, white, beige, cream, light rose or babyblue.

Then the lotus silk one in dark green.

It made you feel like a princess.

It felt like tiny kisses on your skin.

You couldn't help but try each and every one of them on.

And God, they felt good on you.

And eventually, you were forced to wear them. All you had was that one night dress. You had tried washing it in the sink and drying it on the radiator. But additionally to all the other bullshit he put you through, it was just too much. And so you put it on. The green one first.

The look on his face when you timidly left your room and tiptoed over to the living room had made you feel...

It made you feel...

You wanted to slap yourself until you came back to your senses, but no. It was enough when he did.

Desired. It made you feel desired.

It made you feel beautiful in a way you hadn't ever experienced before.

Sure, despite your questionable upbringing and your mother who constantly made sure you felt just below miserable, there had been men ogling you. Like the one who attacked you.

They'd stop what they were doing and glance you up and down, making sure you felt like a well-seasoned piece of meat.

Edible.

Fuckable.

But none of it was any comparison to him. The look in his eyes had been nothing short or fascination. The way his eyes gleamed and his lips parted in that soft exhale. His eyes didn't just linger on your breasts or ass. His sized you up entirely, like you were a porcelain doll to be cherished.

Of course you expected to hate the feeling.

But to your undying horror, you didn't.

You tried to think back to the many hits you'd taken from him, the humiliation and the countless tears.

And still, when he looked at you like that, you felt your cheeks grow warm and your insides tingle.

"Try them on for me." He had breathed.

You opened your mouth to protest, because that was what you usually did by now, you protested, but one look at him and it shut you up. Not because he was angry or because he had threatened you.

Because of that damn look.

You found yourself walking back to your room, your hands shaking and your heart racing. What were you doing here? Was this your life? Was this your punishment? Was he someone your mother had hired to punish you for escaping her?

You pushed all those thoughts aside and changed into the next dress. It was almost regal looking, a long white dress that hugged your body like a gentle embrace.

None of the dresses were cheap looking. They weren't even all too revealing. A little more than what you usually wore, yes, but all in all they were still kind of modest. But they highlighted your beauty in a way that made you feel exactly that.

Beautiful.

You took a shaky breath and made your way back to the living room. He had settled down on the couch, a glass of whiskey in his hand which he swirled around, lost in thought. The moment he heard you, he looked up from his glass and his eyes lit up in the same delight they had before, even more so.

He did something more now. He bit his lip.

He twirled his finger around, silently beckoning you to turn around, which you did. You turned around, almost timidly, feeling somewhat small under his assessing gaze. You still felt beautiful, but a part of you expected...

What?

That he laughed?

That he scoffed and recoiled in disgust?

Yes. Yes, that was exactly what a part of you felt he might do. Instead, he set his glass down and stood up, approaching you slowly and carefully, as though not to startle you.

You held your breath. He would hit you. You had done something wrong. You were wrong. You looked wrong. You didn't look the way he wanted you to.

He'd get rid of you.

By the time he reached you, you nearly suffocated. Your chest heaved rapidly under his scrutinizing gaze. When he lifted his hand and moved to touch your cheek, your eyes fluttered shut and you gasped.

But instead of hitting you, he...caressed you.

His touch was so gentle, more gentle than ever before. Like he was holding a delicate bird.

"Stand up straight." He breathed in your ear.

You swallowed thickly. And slowly obeyed. You fixed your posture slowly, pulling your shoulders back.

"Like that?" You whispered.

He nodded.

"Now your chin." He whispered back and gently placed a finger under your chin to lift it.

You let him guide you, feeling like his fingers left a trail of fire on their wake when he carefully ran them down the side of your neck.

"God, you're exquisite."

When you finally looked up at him, your eyes were wide and your breathing still far too quick. But his expression was calm. So calm. Almost gentle.

If he wasn't such a psychopath, he'd be really handsome, you realized. His eyes shone in a warm brown and his smile, albeit twisted, was beautiful. He was beautiful. Like a man made of marble who didn't mind getting messy.

When you realized what the hell you were thinking, you recoiled as if you’d been burned. His expression didn't waver, but he slowly pulled his hand back.

"Show me the next one." He murmured and sat back down.

You quickly made your way back and slumped down, your back pressed against the door.

What on earth was that? Were you now entirely out of your mind?

You didn't have many rules, but one of them went above all others.

Avoid him. Avoid him at all costs.

No unnecessary contact, because then you'd have less opportunities to make him angry. And maybe, just maybe, then you'd get out of the alive. You still had hope.

After a long moment of gathering your thoughts, you changed into the next dress. A soft beige cashmere dress, which hugged your curves sinfully.

You took a deep breath and made your way back. His gaze was fixed on the door and he looked at you with a subtle smirk.

"Look at that." He murmured.

You didn't know what he was referring to while you walked in there, a slight frown on your face.

"What?"

"Nothing. Turn around."

You turned around. It was easier this time. And it got easier with every dress. You changed, came in an twirled around. Changed, came in and twirled around. And at some point, his eyes started feeling almost natural on you. Like you were meant to wear those dresses for him on that particular day. It wasn't until the last dress, a beautiful, yet simple black dress, that you realized. Your stance had somewhat changed.

You stared at yourself in the mirror with a deep frown.

Was that you?

Who were you?

And how did you pull it off to show off these dresses looking almost...confident?

You made your way back, looking at him with an unreadable expression.

His face lit up at the sight and he took a sip of his drink.

"My favorite by far. That and the green one."

You stared at him speechlessly. What on earth were you supposed to do with that information?

He approached you slowly, with that predatory air on him as he slowly circled you, looking you up and down.

"Do you like the dresses?" He asked slowly.

"Yes." You whispered.

"Good." He smirked. "Then thank me."

You slowly, almost carefully, looked up at him. Did he expect...you to...

"Thank me." He whispered.

"Thank you for the dresses." You whispered back.

And just like that, he smiled in satisfaction.

"You're very welcome. They all look wonderful on you."

He sat back down and beckoned you to sit beside him, which you reluctantly did. You tried to keep your knees from bouncing up and down nervously and folded your hands in your lap.

"Who are you?"

You simply stared at him. Because you knew, every time you answered the question, even if you said the right words...Something bad happened. So, this time you stayed silent.

He took a slow breath and leaned closer.

"Who are you?"

"Please." You whispered. "Please, don't."

His expression immediately darkened and he took a tight hold of your chin.

"Answer the goddamn question."

"Your girl." You said quietly, but you were unable to meet his eyes as you did. "I'm your girl."

He hummed softly.

"Why?"

You blinked. "Why?"

He nodded. "Yes. Why?"

Suddenly your throat felt dry. You liked to think that you were actually pretty clever. But whenever you spoke to him, you felt like a complete idiot.

"Because I...I just am."

He raised a brow. "You just are?"

"I don't know what you want to hear."

His grip on your face loosened slightly and he shook his head.

"Do you despise me?" He suddenly asked. There was no emotion in his tone, just pure calculation.

You blinked again. You were almost sure you were going to die tonight. Too bad. The pretty dress would end up soaked in blood.

"I..."

"Because just a few minutes ago, you looked at me like you want me."

Suddenly you felt your face heat up in embarrassment. Actually, you had hoped he hadn't caught on that moment of weakness.

"That's not true." Somehow you managed to force a certain firmness in your voice.

He just smiled. "It's alright, sweet girl. You can deny it all you want, but we both know the truth. I know you’re ashamed. That’s fine. But a part of you likes me."

"But it isn't true!"

He tsked. "Listen, why don't you calm down and then we'll-"

"I could never like you!" You called out before you could think about. "I could never want a twisted person like you. You know what? There's a reason why no one ever loved you and why no one ever will. You're simply evil and there's nothing good or loveable about you. Nothing at all."

It felt like one of those horrible moment in apocalypse movies, just a moment before a protagonist is going to die. You knew you had fucked up. You just couldn't tell how bad yet.

By the time you managed to carefully lift your gaze to meet his, you got struck by unease. You could practically follow the shift in his eyes. From teasing and playful to something darker, something dead. He didn't even need to drop the smile. His eyes spoke loud enough.

"I'm sorry." You whispered breathlessly.

You couldn't even tell why you had said that, why the statement that you found something likeable about him had triggered you so badly. You weren't normally this reckless. This suicidal.

"I'm sorry." You whispered again, when he didn't move. "I don't know what came over me. Please. Forgive me. Please, I..."

The coldness in his eyes made you shut up. The man who called you exquisite and asked you to twirl around like a ballerina was gone. And you immediately knew he wasn't going to forgive you.

But what was even worse was that for some reason you felt so terrible for what you had said. Usually, you were pretty kind to everyone and didn't just go around saying hurtful things. If your words reached and hurt him didn't matter. What mattered was that you said them.

Immediately tears stung your eyes and you forced your gaze away from his. God, he would kill you.

And this time you were certain.

So, you weren't truly surprised when he roughly forced your back onto the sofa and straddled you. But you were still scared shitless. Your breath hitched and suddenly, just like that, you couldn't breathe again and you were mute. Betrayed again.

He pinned your wrists above your head and pushed you down with a rough movement, grinding down his hips against yours and forcing your legs apart.

First he would take what he wanted and then he would kill you.

Despite you being mute and frozen, you were still crying. Your body was being shaken by sobs and it only ever seemed to make him angrier.

"It appears to me", he growled furiously, "that you forgot your place."

You quickly shook your head, desperate to make him understand just how much you regretted what you had said, but before you could even try to open your mouth, a firm slap made you cry out in pain.

"No, please-"

There was your voice. And there went another slap. The intensity of it made you cry out as your head lolled to the side.

"Where is your place?" He growled. But before you could respond, he hit you again, all the while you felt his hardness pressed against you, ready to ruin you.

He had never done that before.

Sure, he had hit you when you got something wrong in a game, but he had never straight up beaten you for speaking.

Or what was even worse, he hadn't forced himself on you.

You had sensed the hardness between his legs once before, after he had made you drink the water from a bowl on the floor. But he hadn't mentioned it, hadn't made you look there, let alone touch it. He had skillfully ignored it and probably taken care of it himself afterwards.

He hadn't tried to kiss you.

Hadn't tried to reach between your legs.

Hadn't let you feel him.

But now you felt it, hard and urgent, straining against his pants and then your dress.

You had never felt a man like this before.

What a weird thought to have in this kind of situation.

"Please." You finally managed to sob out. "Please, I swear to you, I'll never do it again. I'll make up for it, please let me make up for it."

By the time his hand shot out for the sixth slap, you felt yourself go dizzy. Your face burned like fire under his palm and everything around you slowly went blurry. Your sight as well as the way you tried to hold your eyes open. They slowly blinked shut.

"I'm sorry." You whispered exhaustedly.

"Don't you dare pass out on me right now." He hissed and tightly grasped your chin.

When, instead of answering, you murmured something inaudible, he sighed deeply.

"Fuck." He murmured. His touch on your face grew softer. Then he slowly tilted your chin up, examining your face.

"I marked your pretty face." He said in a bland tone. You didn't say anything back.

"But I had to remind you that you don't just get to say and do anything you want." He gritted out. He was obviously still furious.

You didn't understand why he sounded like he was trying to justify his actions or why he even cared if you passed out. You had actually expected him to go off on that.

As if on cue, he reached down and carefully adjusted his pants, letting out a soft sigh at the touch.

You felt him press against you for a moment longer. He was obviously fighting with himself. Despite everything, the friction caused a nervous twitch in your lower body. He seemed to notice it and checked your expression. Eventually he forced himself away from you. He got up and ran his hands through his hair.

"Take a nap and calm down. I'll be back in a while."

With quick steps he disappeared to his bedroom. For a short, reckless moment you caught yourself thinking; he'll be occupied fucking his hand for at least five minutes. If you go and find the keys he always carries around when he leaves...

But your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of him. It was barely audible. You were sure you weren't even supposed to hear it. But you did. A moan. He moaned.

You closed your eyes. Oh God.

He had managed it. He had messed up your brain even more than it already was. Instead of crying, because your face hurt like hell, you felt a certain warmth spread through you.

Honey, you cannot seriously-

Shut up, mother.

You heard him again and now you were sure. You felt yourself grow wet. Immediately, your face flared up in even more heat and your breath caught in your throat.

What on earth was wrong with you?

He had nearly killed you, nearly taken you, nearly-

"Ah, oh, fuck." He groaned.

Your brows furrowed and you took a shaky breath. You could almost see it in your mind. The way his hand slowly slid down his chest. It made your heart skip a beat.

Enough!

You jumped up and scurried back to the bathroom. You locked the door and paused before the mirror. The sight made you wince. He had indeed marked you up. His hand, angrily imprinted into your cheek. You gingerly reached out to touch it, but stopped short of your skin.

He had done this to you. Just as he had done so many other things to you.

You were trapped in these godforsaken halls.

All you had wanted to do was go home after a long day of work, read a book in silence and eat a warm meal. Instead you got trapped into this hell, where he slowly manipulated his way under the trauma that had been cursing through your body and mind for years.

He destroyed all the walls you had built up, all the aid you had taken to repair the little sanity that was left in you.

The little confidence. The little love. The little you.

Now it was all gone.

You felt a tear run down your cheek and you immediately wiped it away. The touch made you wince in pain, it was rather harsh. You couldn't help it. You were angry.

You were so, so angry.

Why was it that no one could ever be good to you?

Why did you always attract the attention of twisted people?

You didn't deserve that. You didn't want it. And God, you didn't ask for it.

You had been a sweet child. Innocent and curious as every child is. Until your mother, who knew nothing but hate by day and pain at night, turned you into a shell of a person. And when you finally, finally made it out of her chokehold and you thought you could now live your life in peace, happily ignoring everything wrong in your life, he came.

He came and destroyed your fragile peace.

With shaky hands you leaned down and splashed your face with cold water. You carefully dried it up and stood like that for a while, holding onto the sink tightly.

And you made a silent promise to yourself.

You would get out of here and get your peace back.

The night was quiet. He didn't try to approach you, punish you, torture you in any way. He simply let you sleep.

The second your face touched the pillow, you passed out.

The morning went on just as quiet. You took a quick bath, before you put on one of the horrible dresses. You didn't care which one, you just wanted this to get over with.

The rest of your life.

After you spent two hours pacing the room, you decided you needed to speak to him. Ask him nicely maybe. Or steal his gun and murder him. You didn't care anymore. You needed to get out.

With quick, determined steps you stormed out to the kitchen and were surprised to find it empty. The other rooms were empty as well. You even gathered all your courage and knocked on his bedroom door. When no answer came, you sighed and went back to the kitchen.

Maybe he had abandoned you. He had thrown away all the food and he would come back in a few days after you died of starvation. Yes, that sounded reasonable.

But to your great surprise, that wasn't the case. Instead, on the kitchen table stood a gracious amount of food. Everything from rice and beans, to spinach and even…lemon cake.

You frowned as you thought back to the second day with him.

"What does always manage to cheer you up?"

"Mostly books." You had whispered, after he had just finished nearly choking you to oblivion, because you had answered another question to his displeasure. "But when things are remarkably bad, then lemon cake."

You stared at the cake as if it was poisonous. Which it probably was. You took a step closer and then you saw the note.

Sorry.

That was it. Just sorry. Sorry?

Your eyes widened as you stared down at it.

What was this?

Did he actually apologize?

You didn't care that it was written on a post-it. The word on the post-it was Sorry.

You had to sit down, because you felt like your knees were about to give in.

After a long moment of simply staring down at it, you reached out and took a bite of the lemon cake.

It was fruity and sweet and everything good in the world.

You took another bite and choked back your sobs.

After he came home, he didn't say anything for a long while and so didn't you. Just a quick glance of acknowledgement.

He didn't comment on how you sat there, reading. Of course you expected him to beat you down with the book. But he didn't. Instead he averted his gaze and disappeared into his room.

And he didn't say anything for the rest of the day either, until suddenly he declared that he didn't intend to rape you and so the conversation dragged on.

You felt especially snarky today, after yesterday he got so angry and took it out on you. After he awkwardly vanished and you heard him. After you remembered that you didn't deserve to be treated like shit, right after you had felt incredibly aroused, because you heard him touch himself.

"God, I want you." He breathed in your ear. And then you did the unthinkable. You pushed him back. The movement was gentle. But you pushed him back.

He growled deep in his throat and seconds later the vase from the coffee table crushed against the wall in a loud scatter. At least it wasn’t you who flew into the wall.

You would have winced from the sound. But it was so sudden and somehow almost funny. But you knew better than to smirk.

"Who are you?" He hissed.

You stayed silent.

He took a long, slow breath. Then he reached out and touched your cheek, his fingers digging into your bruised skin, making you flinch. He raised his hand like he was going to slap you again. You wanted to cower in fear, but you forced yourself to keep looking at him, your eyes wide.

He kept staring down at you and slowly lowered his hand back down.

"You're still beautiful." He said quietly.

You didn't expect him to say that or the way his fingers gently trailed down your cheek. You inhaled sharply and slowly closed your eyes. It was like trusting a bear to guard your life, when it was covered in honey.

"Are you going to hit me again?" You whispered.

After a beat, he quietly said: "No."

His mood swings were terrifying, but you knew there were far scarier things about him.

Like the way his eyes darkened whenever he got really angry. Which was often the case.

Or the way he hummed whenever you did something wrong.

Or the way he made you weak and scary enough, not entirely in a bad way. You were certain he had manipulated you into thinking this. Into, somehow, caring. This was the worst that could happen to you. The absolute worst.

He sighed. "Sweet girl, are you..."

You needed to get the hell out of here. And quickly. So, maybe, maybe, if you just played along…

Maybe then you would get out alive. All you had to do was play along. All you had to be was…

“I’m your girl.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

End of the World VII

Ruesha Littlejohn x Child!Reader

Summary: You spend the day with Ma

After the trip to the zoo in Australia, you find yourself going to the zoo regularly.

Most of the time, it's London Zoo but today Ma has driven you out for nearly two hours to Whipsnade Zoo because they have red pandas and those are your favourite.

Her teammates are coming too but that's okay because you know Ma will keep you safe.

It's meant to be Mammy's week, you think as Ma keeps you in the car while she tries to unfold the pram. But seeing Mammy on Monday gave you a weird icky feeling in your tummy.

She's been in Ibiza through the week, partying and having fun in a different country. It had been weird seeing her again.

She was still the same Mammy. She looked the same. She smelt the same. She acted the same but, still, you got a bit of a weird feeling looking at her and you didn't settle in easily your first night with her and cried and cried and cried for Ma so they've swapped around the schedule to give Ma this week.

Next week, you'll try again with Mammy.

But, this week, you're with Rue and she lifts you into your pram with one of your felt dolls.

"You feel okay?" She runs a hand over your cheek and you giggle a little at the ticklish feeling.

"Yes, Ma."

"And promise me you'll tell me if you need the toilet?"

Your head bobs. "I will."

A kiss is pressed to the top of your head. "You're a good girl."

You giggle, kicking your legs out a little.

Most of Ma's teammates are already inside so Ma buys tickets quickly and goes in.

You let Rue push you around for most of the day but emerge from the pram to stand between her and Georgia and look at the red pandas.

They're very pretty and they're your favourite animal.

You've got a few of them as little figures for your Barbie zoo set but nothing beats seeing them in rea life.

They clamber all over their enclosure and Ma lifts you up onto her hip so you can see me clearly.

It's easy for Rue to hold you up while also digging around her bag for a snack, ripping open the packaging of the chocolate bar and taking a bite.

She offers you the next bite and you chew mindlessly as you stare as one of the animals misjudges a jump and goes tumbling down the ramp.

You giggle as the second red panda jumps onto the first.

"They're silly, Ma," You say and Rue beams at you.

"Silly? Are they?"

"Uh-huh."

"Do you want to move on yet?"

You glance back at the funny red pandas and your jumper cuff somehow makes its way into your mouth.

It's a bad habit but it's never been Rue's first choice of habits to break you out of. Your bed wetting issue is much more pressing than chewing your cuffs.

Chewing your cuffs is probably the bottom of the ladder, under getting you to get rid of those creepy porcelain dolls your grandma gave you and getting you to speak without mumbling.

"We can stay a bit longer here, if you want," Rue says and you nod.

Most of her teammates go off to do their own things but Georgia stays to keep you both company as Rue walks around the fence of the red panda enclosure with you secure in her arms.

"Ma," You say suddenly when you finally allow yourself to be taken to the other animals.

Rue doesn't hear you, pushing your pram and talking to Georgia next to her.

"Ma."

The pram keeps moving and you wiggle a little in your seat, tears already welling in your eyes.

"Ma!"

You don't have a loud voice even when you shout but Rue's in tune to your noises most of the time and she definitely hears you now.

"What's up, Kiddo? What's going on?"

You whine. kicking your legs out. "Potty, Ma. I need the potty."

"Can you-?"

Georgia nods as Rue unclips you quickly. "I can stay with the pram."

Even though you've told Rue that you need the toilet, she knows you've left it to the last minute like always.

You've probably needed it for a little while now, hoping that the feeling would go away so Rue hightails it to the toilets.

She sets you up on the sink once you're done and helps you with your hands.

"Do you want to have lunch here?" She asks, scrubbing your hands," Or we can go home?"

You'd been at the zoo since it opened and Rue can see how easily your eyes are growing heavy.

"Mmm."

Your cuff is straight back at your mouth and Rue gently pulls it down so she can hear your mumbles properly.

"I know," She says," It's already been a long day. Naps at home sounds great, huh?"

You head bobs up and down in a nod as you're hoisted back up onto Rue's hip again and taken over to where Georgia's waiting.

"Red panda!" You gasp and Rue's eyes go wide.

"You didn't."

"I so did," Georgia replies with a grin, holding up the massive red panda toy she must have gotten from the gift shop...or stolen, Rue was never quite sure with Georgia.

"You couldn't have gotten her a doll?" Rue pretends to scold as you're strapped into your pram with the toy.

"Well, now that you've mentioned it. There was this amazing porcelain one that-"

"Never mind."

[tinylilacbun]

I know Halloween already passed but imagine looking for Halloween costumes with CG Rafe and Sofia. I feel like little!reader would pick a super cute costume(I imagine she goes as a bunny, and suggests a magician and assistance for Rafe and Sofia so they match) and rafe begrudgingly doing it for little!reader and Sofia lighting hitting him in the chest when he makes a face.

(Sorry if this is incoherent, my ears are stilling ringing from dance class😬)

Your fingers skim through the different costume options of the store, not having found the right one yet. Rafe and Sofia are following right behind you, hand in hand while keeping an eye on you so you won't get lost like the last time you guys went to the mall.

Rafe decided to throw a Halloween party at his house this year, with costumes, decoration, and all that. So you just have to wear the perfect outfit for that occasion.

Frustration starts to creep up as you're still searching until your eyes catch the sight of a white full body bunny onesie, quickly grabbing it off the hanger and holding it up for your caregivers to see. "This one!"

Sofia smiles softly, checking if it's your size and nods. "Good choice, sweetie. You'll be the cutest bunny at the party."

Rafe nods as well, looking down at his watch. "A'ight, we gotta go now...before someone gets cranky when she doesn't get her nap." He mutters the last part to Sofia.

"But Rafey! We gotta find you both costumes to match mine!" You pout at him.

"I'll stick to my ghostface mask." He responds quickly, sighing when your frown deepens, trying to find a reasonable excuse. "And- look, they sadly don't have any more matching ones in my size."

Sofia's heart breaks at the disappointment on your face as you sadly nod your head. "What Rafe's trying to say is we gotta see if we can order something online instead." She says, ignoring Rafe sending her a look.

The way your face instantly lights up has him groaning quietly. "Right. That's exactly what I meant."

And that's how Rafe finds himself standing in front of a mirror, adjusting the bow tie of his magician attire, a scowl on his face.

"You better wipe that look off your face when she comes out of the bathroom." Sofia warns him, pulling up the black tights up her legs, in the process of getting in her own costume as Rafe's assistant.

"This is ridiculous, I'm never gonna hear the end of this from Topper and Kelce." He mutters, grabbing the hat and putting it on his head.

"Just remember who you're doing this for." She responds, going to stand in front of him, fumbling a little with his collar with a small smirk on her face. "You know she loves Halloween 'cause she can dress up as whatever she wants without people giving her weird looks."

Rafe sighs before eyeing her up and down, a smirk forming on his face. "I gotta say, you look hot in that. Can't wait to rip this off you later." He says, reaching up to grab her tie, pulling her into a kiss.

Just as their make out session could escalate, the sound of the bathroom door opening has them pulling away from each to look at you.

You stand there with a big smile on your face, dressed in your bunny onesie and the hood already on your head, a little messily drawn whiskers and button nose painted on your face.

Rafe, for the first time since putting on his costume, smiles at the sight of you so happy and excited for the coming evening. "There's our beautiful bunny. Better be good tonight or I'll have to make you disappear." He teases, waving the plastic wand before your face.

Sofia hits his chest at the comment but you just giggle, rushing over to hug them both and they quickly return your hug, each of them kissing your cheeks at the same time.

Taglist

For Everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer

[anglbby444]

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader smut.

Warnings; none, vanilla sex <3

After bidding your maid farewell for the night with a kiss on the cheek, you nestle yourself into the soft comforters of the bed, which is surrounded by a room that is beautifully decorated thanks to your family’s maids, you feel a familiar crater form next to you. With a grin, you turn over and look into the eyes of your husband, Anthony Bridgerton. “Hello dearest.” He says after placing a gentle kiss on your bare shoulder, you humming contently in response. “Did you have dinner yet, my love?” He questions between more kisses to your shoulder as he leans over your figure. You murmured out an “mhm” as you take in and attempt to memorize the feel of his lips on your skin. “Mm, good good, so did I…although I must admit, you look rather delectable tonight, for a lack of a better choice of words.” He mumbles against your skin, drawing a playful scoff from you. “Anthony! How scandalous..” A smile finds its way onto your face as you sit up and turn around to face your husband, connecting your lips with his.

His hands begin to wander, fingers tracing every inch of skin he can find. Starting from your shoulder, his nimble fingers leave a trail of goosebumps down your arms, chest, breasts, and tummy as his teeth gently latch on to your earlobe. Although most of the skin he’s touching is covered by a soft pink silk nightdress, that doesn’t stop the goosebumps his touch creates on the soft flesh. A moan threatens to escape from your throat as his fingers begin to move lower and lower, eventually hovering above your mound as you feel him chuckle against your skin. You can feel his smirk grow as his fingers find their way into your panties. “A-Anthony!” You cry out.

It is no secret that Anthony Bridgerton likes to make you beg for him to fuck you. No matter if he knows exactly how you want him to fuck you, take you how he pleases. However, as you'll soon find out, that dosen't stop him from wanting to hear it from your pretty litle mouth. "Is your pretty little pussy wet for me? Hm?" Anthonys voice is a devilish one at that, his hot breath tickling the outer shell of your ear. He continues to kiss down towards your neck, lips suctioning a soft portion of skin as he chuckles when he feels you try to buck your hips up. In true mean Anthony fashion, he firmly grips your hips and pushes them down with a growl. "I take that as a yes.."

You let out a sharp breath as his fingers curl into your skin, ever so slightly gliding against your cunt. As Anthony felt the pool of dampness on your heat, he groaned and let out a laugh. "I guess I was right, wasn't I?" He drawls, softly twirling his middle finger around your sensitive bud. You attempted to come up with some sort of sassy remark, but find yourself failing to collect your words. Instead, you let out an almost pathetic sounding whimper. "Anthonyyy...." You call out his name, running your fingers through his hair as you try to buck your hips up once more. This time, he dosen't dissapoint. His forehead presses against you as he shakes his head in playful disbelief. "Say my name like that again and I might just break.." And you took that as a challenge.

"Oh Anthonyyy..." You mewl out his name again, giggling softly as you see him tilt his head and give you a deviant smile. To your surprise, he rips the blanket off of you, exposing your body to him. Although you still have your nightdress on, you can't help but get a bit flustered whenever he sees you so vulnerable. "Well...I think its time to get this pesky dress off of you..." You nod in response and begin to climb out of bed and slowly lift up the dress covering your legs. You know he wanted you to put on a little show. And that you did. Your hair falls down over your shoulders as you let the sleeves of the silk dress slip down your arms. The cold chill that washed over you was a familiar feeling to your already hard nipples. Anthony licked his lips as you fully step out of the nightgown and sashay over to him with a cheeky grin on your face. You crawl onto the bed and look at him with pleading eyes, waiting for him to make the next move. "How do you want me, darling?" His voice became soft, the voice he knows make you feel the safest. Even when hes going to fuck your brains out, as he usually does at least five times a week. "I want you inside me, Anthony.."

Fuck, he CANNOT say no to that. "Guess its a good thing you aren't wearing any panties tonight...Seems like you already knew you wanted my cock tonight." You nod at him with a crooked smile. To your pleasant surprise, he firmly gripped your legs and pulled you closer to him. He let out a chuckle as he placed one of your legs onto his shoulders, spitting on his hand and stroking his already hard cock. Your chest heaves, biting your lip as you look up at him with an already cockdrunk gaze. He leans down and places a passionate kiss to your lips. The two of you exchanged a knowing look, giving him the ok to slip his hard cock into you.

He grabbed onto one of your legs as he gave you a few gentle thrusts, letting you get used to the preassure his cock created inside her. God, you felt like you were in heaven every time he fucked you. He rolled his hips, his tip hitting you in just the right spot. The sensation made your eyes roll back. That sight and your high pitched moans told him all he needed to know. The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoded through the room as he started to speed up his movements, his hands finding their way up to your breasts. His large, gruff hands squeezed the pink and plump flesh.

{You’re pretty sure you came four times that night,,,}

[deonsx]

If They Seduce You On Your Anniversary

Feat: Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor, Nikolai

Content: Nsfw, Smut

Dazai Osamu

You were walking home tired. Today was your anniversary and you bought a gift for Dazai. Hoping that he would like it, you tried to go home before him, but when you opened the door, you saw candles lighting up every part of the house. "So, someone came before me," you curled your lips and smiled

Following the candles, you looked at the roses on your bed under the yellow light burning in your bedroom. You narrowed your eyes happily, looking at the empty room. Suddenly, you were pulled back from your waist by the hand coming from behind you, and the smell of your lover's perfume filled your nose, he laid his head on your neck and hugged you tightly from behind

"Finally you are here my beautiful bella" he gave you kisses from behind and took your hand and turned you towards him you could finally see osamu's face those two brown irises shining like gold looking at you with love, "I'm lucky to have you osamu dazai" this made your boyfriend's grin increase and made you look at him allowed him to embrace

He took you in his arms and laid you on the bed, you started to undress accompanied by the scent of roses, you did not forget to leave bites on your skin, he pulled you into a deep kiss and the brunette slid his own hands on you, caressing your beautiful body and skin. He got on top of you and slowly ripped your underwear off your skin “Time for some pleasure my love” you heard him giggle and that made you even more eager for him

He teased you before shoving his cock inside you, which angered you enough "Osamu Please..!" You called out to him with a slight nod of your head "I'll give you the pleasure easily this time darling" he licked his lips as he slowly entered you, back and forth quickly the sounds of skin filling the room your breathing sounds changed to his rhythm "Oh my god! you look so beautiful" he mockingly said what he had. exalted "I will fuck you until the morning my love"

Chuuya Nakahara

Today was your anniversary and you had completely forgotten about it. The thing that made you remember was that your boyfriend was approaching you with his house decorated with candles. You cursed yourself thousands of times and wanted to get angry, but your boyfriend didn't seem angry about this situation. "Hmm, you seem to have forgotten the situation... then" he paused. and licked his lips with his tongue

"You have to give me a nice show, my love" you didn't expect a horny person to come out of that romantic man, you were stunned for a moment, your boyfriend extended his hand to you and left you no choice but to hold him, he dragged you with your steps to the room and made sure to close the door hard behind you, while you gently pushed him onto the bed, he was out of it. He seemed very happy that you forgot this anniversary

"I need to sweeten my mouth after a long day at work" with this sentence you blushed from ear to ear and rubbed your legs together. You slowly tugged on the slightly tight work dress you were wearing while looking away. "Please don't tell me you're embarrassed...I know what you're thinking." He couldn't help but stare. He quickly laid you down on the bed. He got on top of you and opened your clothes slightly

"Nice perfume, but today the place I will leave bites is different." He spoke to you lustfully while pulling up your skirt, his hand moved towards your underwear and that's when he paused, "Wet already?" this made him giggle and he buried his head between your legs "stay still beautiful or you'll make me eat you out until morning"

Fyodor Dostoyevski

At the end of the night, you bought a special dress for your anniversary night and you got ready with it and headed home. When you opened the door of the house, everything was dark, that means your boyfriend Fyodor had not arrived yet. "Did he forget...?" While you were thinking to yourself, footsteps came from inside and as the moonlight hit the living room, his purple eyes matched the dress you were wearing

“Моя прекрасная леди, вы наконец оказали мне честь” (My beautiful lady, you have finally honored me) He loved talking to you in Russian, even though you didn't speak Russian, you could understand what he was saying from his face. His hands wrapped around your waist and pulled down the strap of your beautiful dress. "Impatient," you said while hissing at him

He quickly grabbed you by your legs, picked you up in his arms and quickly carried you to the bedroom. Normally it is impossible to see him like this. On the contrary, he is very patient and serious. "I need to open my New Year's present?" you glared at him as he laid you down on the bed "I haven't given you your gift yet" a confident grin appeared on his face "you're wrong..he's standing right in front of me”

He quickly opened the zipper of your dress and revealed your beautiful skin. He left bites on your beautiful neck that you are sure will not leave a mark tomorrow morning. "Fedya, I see you are very excited tonight." You made fun of him, but he did not speak. His hand wrapped around your neck slowly and hard, and while doing this, he continued to leave bites on your body. "Oh, you are already wet…I didn't know you had a masochistic side, dear”

Nikolai Gogol

It was a night you had been planning for a long time... your anniversary night, you were so excited to surprise him. It was hard for you to do it because you had to do it secretly from your boyfriend. You prepared a nice hotel night and now you were on your way. You checked into the hotel and quickly took the room card and held it to the door to prepare the room. The door opened, but with the smell of perfume from inside

You couldn't believe your eyes when you entered the room. "Nikolai!? What are you doing here?" Nikolai shook his head. "You are very bad at hiding things from me, my dear." You felt demoralized. He had rejected this beautiful feast that you had been arranging for him for months. "These were supposed to be surprises, Nikolai." He understood your seriousness when you said your name. "I've been trying for you for a long time, but you're ruining it all." You thought about leaving the room for a moment, but his colorful eyes had already poisoned you with his magic

He narrowed his eyes and examined your facial expression, then he took a deep breath and stood up, "I know, darling, I know you did all of this for me." You were very angry with him and you were about to cry because the plan you had been making for months was ruined. Your boyfriend looked at you as if he was taking pleasure in your filled eyes and then he caressed the area under your eyes with his hand, "I'm sorry." "Honey, I will make you forgive me." He slowly leaned you against the wall and covered your eyes with gentle kisses, then he held you in his arms and gave you bites. "What do you want, dear, what can I give you?" You listened carefully to this question he asked and whispered in his ear, "Maybe this time you should be the one on the bottom, my love”

Enjoy!

Thanks for your request @perfectlyjollyland

[kinda-cute-kinda-insane]

Give Time a Chance.

Yoru x gn!reader

Warning : blood(Reader radianite abilities need blood), ooc maybe, I just need him man. No pronouns used I believe, tell me if there’s more warning I should add. Is biting one’s neck should be counted as a sexual activity???

Fic is inspired by Indonesian song

Yoru, you knew of him, not enough yet but you do, of course you do, even your heart whisper his name softly, for you to have him.

And because you know him, you understand how he is. Arrogant, and very closed off to almost everyone, even then you wouldn't stop, even if he gave you unpleasant look, you must have him, because a life without love feels like a night without a stars, empty and lonesome.

You still smiled anyway even as he rolled his eyes at you as you offer him a hot chocolate after his mission at icebox, the warmth of the beverages should have made him feel better.

"Seriously? what do you take me for a kid?" He scoffed at you, looking down at the cup on your hand. "If you want to be a bitch about it just give it to me," Jett rolled her eyes and gently took the cup from you. "Thanks Y/n," She smiled before leaving you both in the kitchen, you only nod at her.

Even as his words sting, you still smiled "sorry, I'll keep that in mind next time," you then walk away as he looked at you weirdly, just what the hell is wrong with you? you must be some weird fuck to enjoy being treated like that, whatever.

Even as your action was never reciprocated, you still try anyway, you can make him fall in love you're sure of it, even if he doesn't feel the same way. He just need to give you time, and love will come because he's used to it.

The least he could do is give you some time and a chance before he want to rip your heart apart, at least then you'll lose after trying your hardest.

The rift walker looked at the red roses on his desk, very basic choice from you but there were barely any options since he never talked about his preference in flowers.

His eyes scanned through the handwritten letters you left along the bouquet.

'Keep the rose, maybe the fragrance will convince you to get to know me?'

He grimaced at the cheesy letter, but it was a bit creative, but cheesy.

He hated how you made him feel lately, the way he searches for you in a room full of people, the way he is anticipating compliments from you whenever he does something, the way he carefully look at all the little things you do.

He hate the way he has to fight back his smile whenever you're around, hate that his leg move without him thinking just to look out for you, hate the way his heart drop seeing you shaking all alone in your room.

You must get rid of your bad habit of not fully closing your room, but you can correct that mistake later, because now you could only stared at the door in shock as Yoru barge in.

"What happened to you?" He kneel down beside your bed, your face was pale as a ghost, your whole body shivers as if you were put inside a freezer.

"uh, I overdid myself on the mission," you nervously answered, growing shy at the close proximity, the warmth he give to your heart should've been enough to stop your shivering, but then again that's not the reason.

"Then why don't you go to sage you idiot?" His hand reached out to your forehead, his brow furrowed at how cold your body became, almost like a corpse.

"Well sage won't really be a big help," you bit your lip in shame, as if you even have control over what your body can and can not do. You're always like that, putting the blame on yourself no matter the situation, he hated that about you.

"Since you never seemed to notice or care," you shyly looked away, shielding yourself from his intense gaze before continuing, "Sage healing is great truly, but it wouldn't really work for me since my ability is basically fueled by blood."

"Like a vampire?" He interrupted you mid sentences, "I mean, what the hell, sure."

You backed away from him as he lowered his shirt "woah, hey now!" you panicked looking at his neck to his collarbone. "Get your mind out of the gutter, you need this."

You shyly stared at his neck, "Are you sure, I mean it's not the most nicest experience." He rolled his eyes at you "I've been shot and stabbed before, this would feel like nothing." He then grabs you by the back of your neck and push your face closer to his neck.

"uh- ok, here we go," you nervously sink your teeth into the flesh on his neck. He let out a low groan, well you sure as hell weren't lying about it, it didn't hurt but sting like hell, there's a certain effect your canine teeth that feels foreign than a normal bite from an animal.

In the midst of the moment, his hand found it way to your waist and grip on the flesh to ground himself from the sting, you nervously inhaled the air from your nose from the sudden contact.

It only took a minute for you to finally gained back the color in your skin, and the warmth you needed. Slowly you detached yourself from his neck, breathing heavily.

"Thanks," you shyly mutter, which earn no reply from him, his hand still on your waist. Maybe time has finally done it's job, maybe your love finally get to him.

If only you knew, your love has affected him long ago, the dried rose sitting hidden deeply in his room serves as a silent witness of his growing love, as the rose died his love bloom.

"If you need help again, just come to me," he slowly walked to the door, hoping you wouldn't notice the redness on the tip of his ears. "Wouldn't I be bothering you?"

"Well you're okay doing it before, what difference does that make." You grinned stupidly staring at his back, you may not notice his blush but someone else did.

"Well at least you both make up," Jett teasingly said, as she was passing by your room with Phoenix beside her. "More like make out," Phoenix continued, staring at the bite mark left behind on the rift walker neck.

[eldritch-spouse]

Looking down from the tree you see the undead trying to reach you. His eyes look at you through his gaping maw “Get away from me!” you take off your shoe and throw it hard at his face.

If he wasn't barking with laughter before, he is now.

Xiko sinks his claws into the bark of your misguided safe haven and discards his own shoe wear, intending to rake his way after you.

" The nerve! " You can see the pupil shrink in his obscured eye. " The audacity- "

You can't mask the terror that spreads through your whole body as he manages to easily start ascending.

" To drag me out of Greed, out of Hell, into these forsaken muck villages, these fields of nothing- "

The language he's using is strange, but you're too preoccupied trying to find a new escape route, hearing undead hands rip and pierce back into the tree, tearing it apart, with no regard for the safety of his own form when wood splinters into his skin and it chafes, burning, yet never bleeding.

" You idiot! " He laughs again, huge maw deforming in his manic amusement. " You fucking moron- Haven't I told you before?! "

There's no real escape. You thought about how to get up, not down. A fall this great will make you break something, likely your ankles, and if you can't run away after, then you might as well save yourself the skeletal damage. No water, nothing to monkey branch to, sliding down would take too long-

Great horns snag and snap branches away, one long arm reaching to grip you desperately as he tries to steady himself.

" Nobody steals anything from me! "

Through the struggling and squirming, in your desperate attempts to lean out of his grasp in the limited space you have available, you make the mistake of kicking your leg out far enough that Xiko could grasp it, and he does. Like a starved predator whose yet to have a meal in days, that eye continues to burn into you like embers and he salivates, grip compressing your flesh.

" I'll always know where you are... I'll always come get you- I have no fucking choice! "

He yanks, hard, and you shriek. Not because of the closure, but because he's on a separate branch, and you're losing support.

" Get it through your head already. " Xiko tilts his gaze. " You'll be mine until the day I can't piece you back together anymore. "

With another pull, everything shrinks, you can't even scream before there's a crunch, and everything goes black.

[oh-its-souichi]

Marry part 4

Sakuna x reader

Im so stoked on the idea I started writing for part 5 I just rushed through this

Warning- same crazy stuff man

You woke up in his soft bed, comfortable warmth surrounding you. In the wives' hall, it was cold, and water leaked through the walls. In Sakunas' room, it was warm, and everything was lush. The only sound was the crackling of the fire. Not the hush of the other women and the scurrying of feet.

You had spent a majority of your time sleeping, the sickness your injuries gave you rocked your body, and it was only recently that your body was able to rejoice. The silence was nice, for awhile but once you spent more time awake you noticed no one came to visit, and sometimes, your maid would bring out food. It wasn't often, though, and you found yourself hungry most of the time.

Your maid told you she was working with someone else now, but things were changing in the temple. She said Sakuna was rarely there, and when he was, he didn't react to their presence. She said it made her feel scared. You nodded and wished you could give her more information, but you knew nothing. You were vaulted away more secluded than before.

You didnt know what day it was at this point or if it was day or night, there was no windows but you felt safer this way. Death didnt seem so close.

Rising from your bed, you stretched your arms and legs, pushing your feet into the plushy carpet. You made your way to the bathroom and ran the warm water. You only had a few pairs of clothes, so you chose to lounge around in a long satin robe. It was black and extremely comfortable. You stripped it off and slipped into the water, feeling goosebumps errupt all over your skin when the hot water soaked it. You sunk up to your ears and closed your eyes thinking about falling back asleep. The hot steam on your face and the lull of the fireplace beckoned you, you were tempted as there was nothing else to do. Your mind wandered from your maid, to your father and then to the injuries you had obtained from the wife in red. You found yourself replaying certain incidents and no matter how hard you tried to stray away, everything ended back at him. Sakuna.

Suddenly, a foreign sensation came over your body, like fingers dancing acrossed your skin. You eyes flew open, and the first thing you saw was teeth, they were formed into a wicked smile. You followed them down to his chin, then his neck to his body. You saw two of his arms plunged into the water. His hands grabbing at your body. "My wife" he purred. You stared up at him keeping half of your face submerged in the water. A shield of sorts. "Ive never seen you like this" he said, his voice was shockingly human sounding and deep like a drum. You sat under the pressure of his gaze not sure what to do. He mapped one of his hands up your stomach and to hand picking it up and bringing it out of the water. The cold air stung your skin but wuickly subsided when you felt his lips connect to your hand. He kissed it over and over again before bringjng it to the side of his face. He closed his eyes and hummed. "You'll never leave this place. You die and rot down here the rest of time." Your heart thumped at his sing song voice. Your mind wanted to whiz out of sontrol but you stayed numb. "Answer me" he said and you say his red eyes open. You popped your head out of the water "I understand." You said. You furrowed his eyebrows and a pained expression came over his face.

"Are you happy about it"

"Yes"

He was acting different, and it was giving you whiplash.

"Good, no, that you have a choice," he laughed, but you heard the danger in his voice, and it made the world around you feel less and less real. His eyes lapped over you hungrier and hungrier until you felt the first of his left arm slide around your back and rip you up out of the water. He pressed his lips to yours, and you felt like he was eating you alive. You tried to kiss him back, but the ferocity overwhelmed you. He pulled you closer and closer. So close, it hurt. His crushing strength made your bones ache. Your breath locked itself in your chest. You groaned in pain, but that seemed to encourage him as you felt his arms loop underneath your body and lift you out of the bath. The cold air made you gasp. He kept his lips to yours, and you felt him smile. "dont worry, you won't be cold for long," he whispered. He walked you out into the bedroom and gently laid you down on the bed. Your heart picked up as he stared down at you. He started to disrobe, and every part of you rejected it. You weren't ready for what you knew he wanted to do. Your voice ached to protest, but nothing came out. His robe dropped to the ground, and your eyes widened at his hulking form. He was all muscle and weapon of a man, curse, a whatever he was. He came forward his hand wrapping itself around your neck. He squeezed lightly but started to tighten his grip. Frightened, your hands flew up and grabbed onto his wrists. You dug your nails into his skin, and he hissed in reply.

"You dare hurt your husband?" He said, his voice deadly. You looked down at him and locked your eyes to his. At first, you only saw rage, but that melted away into sorrow. "Perhaps I've been too rough." He sighed. Slowly, he leaned forward and wrapped all of his arms around you. His weight made your chest lock up, and once again, you were fighting to breathe. You didn't dare speak, though. The fear of the tides turning with any word you said kept your mouth shut. "Things are different now," he muttered. Your heart slammed in your chest, a fear like you felt the day he killed his other wives clawed up your throat. "Why are thing different now" he rushed popping his head up and gripping onto your shoulders. He stared you in the eyes with one of the angriest expressions you had ever seen. His eyebrows were knitted together and his eyes sharp. You rationalized quickly with yourself and opene your mouth to speak "it-it-its" you stammered. "Its not, my husband, my love" you said. With each word your confidence built and you reminded yourself of the position you were in. The comfort and seclusion had numbed you of the danger at hand, this game of survival.

His expression relaxed, and you felt like a snake wrapping around its kill. "Im so grateful for what you've given me Ive not had the words to say it." You snaked your arms around his shoulders and brought your fingertips softly up and down his back. His eyes relaxed, and he searched your face.

[barbs4shua]

Sweet Dreams; Sad Reality| Yoon Jeonghan|pt 2

Part One Here:

Synopsis: Jeonghan finally caught you touching yourself while having sweet nasty dreams of him. Would you let him bring your dreams and greatest want to reality?

Paring: Yoon Jeonghan × Fem reader.

••••••••••••••••

"Answer me Y/n . . . I don't have all night" he demanded causing you to flinch.

"You!"

"Be more specific" he growls

"Fuck it Jeonghan! I want you" you snapped frustrated at the fact that he had you like this. . . without even trying.

"Good" he leans in till his mouth was just above your ears as he takes your hand placing it on the bulge in his pants. "I'm only going to ask you once . . . do you want me to fuck you or make love to you?" He whispers in your ears, his hot breath causing you to hitch a breath.

Truthfully you wanted both. Needed.

"I uhhh __" you stuttered

"I can do both" he says and you're pinned beneath him in seconds.

You shouldn't allow this, someone could walk in but the thought of getting caught excites you more.

He takes a moment you take you in, his eyes scan your entire body, dragging his gaze till it stopped on your lips. You bit your lip in anticipation but he doesn't kiss you. Jeonghan runs his hands gently over your clothed heat and you curse at the touch.

"I can smell your arousal from here and it's making me so hard I might nut in seconds" he says pressing himself into you teasingly. Yes, he's really extremely hard.

He drags his hand from your heat till he grabs your neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. His gaze never leaves your face and you can see the smirk on lips. He seems to be enjoying this, torturing you with his touch like this. You probably look like a cock- hungry slut right now but for Jeonghan you'll be anything.

His lips captured yours in a slow kiss, hands roaming your body till he cups your boobs. You can taste the alcohol on his lips, he's been drinking but thankfully he's sober enough so this doesn't end up as a 'drunken moment'.

His tongue runs over your lips and you open up, granting his tongue access into your mouth. His tongue reaches the depths of your mouth and you moan into his. Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you grab his hair urging him to do more because your body needs more. Needs Jeonghan.

Tearing away from your lips, he begins to trail sloppy kisses on your neck as his skilled fingers undid the buttons on your blouse, it is ripped off your skin in seconds revealing your black bra with a bunny charm attached. Perfect choice because right now, you are a bunny-in-heat. Two years is such a long time to survive without sex, not even the quickest flings.

He continues peppering kisses on your skin, he reaches your stomach and pauses to hold your gaze.

"What hap__" before you could get the words out, Jeonghan dips and licks your belly button. "Fuck Jeonghan" you scream. How come you never knew how sensual this could be?

"You liked that didn't you, now try not to scream too much. This room isn't soundproof" he says as he continues the sweet assault till your sweatpants were off, your bra following immediately leaving you in just your panties which were already super soaked.

His latches on to your boob, as his hand cups the other, flicking the nipple while his tongue ran over the other. He's sucking, squeezing, kneading, smooching, licking and nipping with no consideration for the angry throb in-between your legs.

Your hands, slipped under his oversized white shirt, tugging at the hem, he takes your cue and pulls it off him. Still not satisfied, you help yourself in a sitting position and your fingers find the drawstring of his trousers. He pauses, watching you trying to take it off.

"Impatient are we? mmm?" He teases as his hand snakes round your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your fingers slip from his trousers, going round his neck as his hot mouth takes yours in a searing kiss. He's not exactly gentle this time, it's hot, it commanding and it's wanting.

"Jeonghan please ?..." You beg detaching your lips as you came up for air even though your lungs were filled with the scent of him. You can't believe he's kept your panties on all this while.

He pushes you back onto the mattress and quickly takes off his trousers, you see the outline of the bulge through his fitted boxers and you do not need to be told that this slender man had a truck in between his legs. You gulp at the sight as heat rise to your cheeks. You're about to be ripped open for the second time.

"Don't worry I'll be gentle" he says looking at you, following the movement of your eyes. He palms his crotch and you gasps watching him run his hands over his dick. Your hands too impatient flies to your panties but he grabs your it before you slip in your fingers.

"You don't get to touch yourself, it's how we ended up here, do it again and I'll fuck you till you're unable to leave this room with both legs" he growls.

You nod as beads of sweat form on your forehead. This was too much. Jeonghan was pushing your buttons. He wanted you to beg for him and that's exactly what you do.

"Touch me please. . . Jeonghan" you plead taking his large hands to your boobs again.

"I'm touching you Y/n" he chuckles holding your gaze "you should learn to be specific and I'll give you what you want"

You swallow hard as your eyes stray to his crotch again, licking your lips. You were so hot it felt like your body was being boiled - cock deprivation should be taken seriously in today's world.

Finally willing to save you from his slow torture, he leans in, planting a kiss on your clothed heat as his fingers fiddle with the waistband of your panties. You lift your hips so he takes it off easily, leaving you bare before him.

"So wet. . . .so fuckin drenched. You're so beautiful, more than I ever imagined" he says tracing your folds as his gaze travels down your body. Ok, maybe you weren't the only one who'd been thinking things.

He shifts and positions himself between your legs, holding each leg with his hands "like I said, do not scream" he said quietly in a husk voice before burying his head. He begins his worship session by breathing in your scent first before kissing your purring intimate lips causing your body to quake.

Without warming, his tongue drags over your folds and your hand flies to your mouth to conceal the lewd sentences rolling out.

"You taste so sweet, I could feast here all day" he praises and resumes his administration. Tongue flicking over your bud and you whine, raising your hips in a roll, thankfully his hands hold you down.

"Fuck . . . Fuck. . . Fuck" you moan breathlessly, your legs trembling, hands gripping the bed tightly as he fucked you with his tongue, his lips sucking and licking your clit till your eyes were stained with tears. He slips in a finger and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"So tight. . . need to stretch you out well" he groans and adds another finger.He curls them, pumping them in and out of your clenching cunt till you were a moaning mess, earning your first orgasm on his tongue and fingers.

"You did well baby girl" he says dragging himself up to kiss you. You taste yourself on his lips. He licks your earlobes making you shiver "I want you now Y/n" he whispers and you melt at his word.

"Then take me" you whisper back, surrendering yourself to him.

You feel his dick brush your pussy and you suck in a breath. He pauses to look into your eyes, as if asking for permission.

"Raw?" He mouths.

You nod, unable to wait any longer. You wanted him right now. The sheer need to be fucked overwhelming your senses and better judgement. "Yes Jeonghan. . . Raw. Take me already"

You'd probably take an emergency pill afterwards since you weren't on birth control. The thought of Jeonghan staining your walls with his cum made your pussy throb painfully.

Your legs circle his waist, eyes still locked in a gaze that screamed many unspoken words as he lines himself at your entrance.

He mouth captures yours again in a kiss, a very slow kiss as he begins to push himself in slowly and painfully, his length stretching you out nicely. You shut your eyes which swelled with tears at the slight sting. He pulls out and you whine at the emptiness, he smiles into the kiss and he fills you up again, this time at a go till he bottoms out.

"Look at me Y/n . . . Look at me as I take you completely" he growls as his hands cups your cheek.

Your eyes open at his command, he begins to thrust into you at a slow and agonizing pace as his darks orbs bore into yours.

He's drilling into you so gently, earning repeated gasps from you at his size which you were still adjusting to. You close your eyes falling deep into the pleasure, his hands kneading your breast.

He continues his snail-paced thrusts, delicious sounds leaving his lips driving you wild with want. You need more, more of him.

"Han. . .nnie more please. . . . more" you beg.

"I told you told I'll make love to___"

"Fuck me Jeonghan!" You snapped cutting him off. He could make love to you some other time. Not now, not this time. You were too needy and wrecked with want for lovemaking. You needed him to pound into you till hungry beast in your inside burst open. He could make love to you another time.

Another time?

Will there be another time?

"As you wish princess" this is all it takes for him to pick up the pace. He pulls out and before you can react, he rams into you, almost causing you to choke. This is what you wanted, needed.

He's nibbling on your collar bone as he thrust faster into you, making you cry out loud from so much pleasure.

"Fuck Y/n. . . . you take me so well. I thought you'd break at my size. You. . .you're perfect for me" he says and you clench, making him curse.

Your hands dig into his back as he keeps pumping into you. "So fuckin perfect. . . . You're mine Y/n. Fuck! You're better than I imagined. I waited for this for so long. . . Such a fuckin long wait" he groans as his hands holds your neck choking you slightly.

You feel the familiar sensation of your orgasm building inside and you pull him in, kissing him this time.

"You're clenching so hard. . . uhhhh" he groans loudly, his name leaving your lips at the same time as you reach your peak, your orgasm pulling in his too. You feel him twitching, painting your insides with his hot liquid as he buries his face in between your boobs.

"You're mine Y/n. Never forget that" he mumbles breathlessly and your eyes water again.

Yes, there will be a next time. Many other times because now you have Yoon Jeonghan and you won't be needing those taunting dreams anymore.

Note: sorry it took so long to update the part 2. I got caught up with work and some projects. I literally dreamt of this and knew I had to update before I choke in the dream 😅. I typed so fast and didn't get to edit yet. Pardon any typos please.

[ayotofu]

Ship of your choice and number 3 :)

sorry this is so late but i didn't see this and then i had to figure out what thing i had reblogged that this was for and..... it's late but i did it!

also uh the problem is you said ship of your choice and my brain said "steddie :)" so idk if you even watch stranger things but uh here you go!

(from a larger wip, so there is a context i prommy)

--

"Absolutely not," Eddie said, like Steve just suggested gnawing off his own leg.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, did you have a better idea?"

"Yeah, it's called we keep going together!"

Steve pinched his nose. There was a reason he'd waited to suggest this until after Robin had passed out from blood loss: if she'd heard his plan, she would have actually bit him. Hard. Then grabbed him in a headlock and held him there until he agreed he was coming with them.

But they were moving slow, too slow, even when Robin was conscious. Now that she was dead weight? There's no way they'd outrun the demo-creatures on their tail. Not if he didn't do something to slow them down.

Except Eddie Munson, stupid, brave Eddie, hypocrite of hypocrites, stood there in his ripped black jeans and the baby blue sweater he'd borrowed from Steve and refused to let him do what needed to be done.

"What's going on?" Jeff said, coming up behind them. "Harrington's leaving?"

"Running off ahead?" Gareth said with a sneer.

(At this point, Steve was too tired to care about Gareth's frothing hatred of him. If anything, he was impressed that he was able to keep it up in the face of the monsters and the hell dimension they were all trapped in.)

"Dude," Jeff snapped. "That's enough."

Gareth shut his mouth with a click.

"No, see, Steve here wants to stay behind. Hold off the monsters while we head for the exit."

"We're moving too slow," he said. "Either we need to start going faster or we need to slow them down. Robin's not going to magically wake up, so going faster's not an option. I'll stay here and hold them off for a bit then follow you to the exit."

"Steve, you'll die."

Eddie's face was in front of his, curls flying wild, eyes wide and dewy. Steve loved him.

He reached out with both hands and cradled Eddie's face. "Maybe," he said, "but it's me or it's all of us."

"Then I'm staying with you."

"No, you need to help them." He nodded his head at where Gareth, Jeff, and Nate stood, supporting Robin between them. Jeff had pulled Gareth back at some point, giving them some semblance of privacy.

Eddie's hands came up to cover Steve's. "I don't want to. I'm still fucking pissed at them."

"I know, but... they're still your friends. And they have Robin. Please." Steve leaned forward and rested his forehead against Eddie's. "Do it for me."

"You're such a bitch, Harrington." Eddie blinked away tears, but kept his eyes fixed on Steve's.

"I know." There was no more time; if they were leaving, they needed to do it now. "But, just in case..."

Steve pulled back, just enough to see Eddie's lips. Eddie tracked his gaze, breath hitching, and jerked his hand in front of his lips.

"Don't you dare," he said, voice muffled by his hand. "Our first is not gonna be a goodbye."

Steve hesitated, smiled, and planted a soft kiss on Eddie's palm, right where his lips would be.

"You better come back," Eddie said, not quite a whisper.

"Go," Steve said.

[capricious-bastard13]

Goodnight and (don't) go

AO3

Where during the Endgame, Tony and Steve are contemplating what to do for after. Of everything. What they plan on doing, where they plan on going. Tony asks Steve, staring at the ceiling, laying on the table as he's done quite a lot recently—usually with Nat and Clint like cats, ready to kick off whatever's on the table, glasses, stacks of papers, pencil holders, plates; paper or otherwise—Tony tilts his head up, looks at where Steve is sitting on the pleather arm chair.

"I don't know," He finds himself answering honestly. Throat lodged and lumpy. There's a dryness that he wants to ignore, and almost does so. Because this, the after of everything, still feels so out of reach despite it being within their grasps. Fuck, Tony literally invented time-travel and made it into a watch. A watch!

He rubs the pads of his thumb and forefinger together. Eyes staring at nowhere in particular. "I've always been needed, somewhere, someplace."

"Don't wanna—" Tony waves a hand in the air, while the other rests on his stomach, rising and falling, "Keep up the patriotic dream?" It's followed by a humourless chuckle, breathless and more of a huff; Steve doesn't need to see Tony to know that he's rolling his eyes even further heavenward.

"I think," Steve pauses, feeling the words slip, flow like a rush of water. He ends up legs spread, sprawled on the chair, nape cradled on the top back of the chair, staring at the ceiling, briefly wondering what Tony sees, if they're looking at the same ceiling. "It's time to just be."

Steve lets the words hang there, floating up in invisible swirls of letters. Tony shoots up, propped up on his elbows, blinking at him across the room.

"He made that shield for you."

"No. He made it for him." Him, Howard, Captain America, Steven Grant Rogers. Maybe all of them.

Tony doesn't deign that with a response, looking at him from where he's reclining.

"I can't believe this." Tony scoffs but it's filled with so much underlying amusement that Steve knows not to take it personally, "I just gave it back to you and you're all ready to pawn it off." Tony heaves up to sit, legs dangling on the edge, swinging. "For all I know, next thing you'll do is pawn off our ring."

Steve tilts his head, squints his eyes at the other, unable to stop the grin from spreading wide on his face. "I wouldn't do that. Too important. Keeps my finger warm during the cold months."

Tony snorts, shaking his head. "Got anyone in mind?"

Steve ruminates, pushing up just so that he doesn't risk getting a crick on his neck from lifting it up. Super soldier serum notwithstanding. "Sam."

Tony's eyes widens. "That was quick."

"It's not a hard choice to make. Second choice's Bucky."

"Ah."

"Not a fan?" The air turns cold, it pricks and pins at the knobs of his spine. He braces himself, heart clenching, chest tight. He'd really like to rip his shirt off for a moment just so he can breathe. But Tony sags, tucks his hands between his thighs, kicks off his shoes and keeps swinging his feet.

"Haven't seen him handle it, so no opinions there." When he looks up, there's a sheen to his gaze, "But if you say so." Shrugging, he murmurs into the yawning space between them, "It's yours to pass on."

Steve basks in the cold creeping up his spine, relishes it in masochistic delight. The pain, the throb. He wants to get on his knees and beg, be honest, please, tell me, show me; what do you see that I cannot. Instead, he sits up straighter, licks his lips. "It's also, technically, a family heirloom."

The bark of laughter that escapes Tony cuts through the fog, momentarily, shows the shadowy figure that lurks into something of a man. Howard? Him? Steven Grant Rogers? Sam Wilson? Captain America? Anthony Edward Stark?

"Please, Howard would never let me touch that thing if he actually had it." Tilting his head, Tony hums, "Probably have it hanging up above the fireplace as some sort of stand-in for a dead-eyed stuffed buck with antlers trying to compensate for something that he didn't actually kill."

Steve nods, because he can see that. So vividly. "You didn't answer the question, though."

"Which is?"

"Who do you think should have it?"

Tony sucks in a breath. Their gazes locking before it breaks. A thread turned cold and frayed, crumbling and broken, hanging limp between them. "Sam's a good choice. Wouldn't have picked any one else."

Steve moves his tongue despite how heavy it is in his mouth. "The kid? Spider-Man; Peter?"

Tony's gaze is fierce and quick, brows furrowed and shoulders tense. "No."

He nods. "No," Tony repeats, softer but not any less firm.

Foot meet mouth, he thinks deprecatingly, shoulders sagging.

"Like I said, I don't have any opinions on how Barnes handles the shield. But if you think he's worth it, then take a crack at it."

Barnes. The distance even farther than he and Tony. Held more than an arm's width. He should really try and convince Bucky to move into the compound. Or at least visit. Just to be introduced to everyone. Better than the last time they met him.

Steve swings his arm as if he's throwing the shield—for demonstration but then again, he really isn't thinking about it. Why did he feel the need to demonstrate? Tony's seen him in action, god, he feels stupid. Ice crawling the expanse of his nape, his feet frozen solid.

"The metal arm really helps—helped." Deliberately, which he knows Tony catches too. His arm falls to his lap with a slap, it stings against the fabric of his pants; jeans now because Natasha's gotten tired of seeing him wear khakis. Plus, being all over the world really expanded his wardrobe.

Never mind the running away from the government—117 countries with a bounty on his head. He nods, mostly to himself.

"Yeah, it helped."

"Good for him." Tony mumbles.

The silence is inevitable. And Steve is ready to concede that he's ruined the night. It's far and few in between. Tony still keeps him far, but as much as he wants to reach out, Tony slips through the gaps of his fingers.

This just being one of those attempts. Sand falling all over him.

How painful would it be if he knelt on hot sand? Have it purposefully sear the skin of his knees, have it scorch tracks on his back? This, he wants to profess, this is it—for you, if you'll have me. But it's all too late now, isn't it?

Isn't it?

"Okay," Tony breathes out, "Hang up the uniform, leave your Spanlged days behind." Tony withdraws his hands from where he'd kept them tucked, a finger scratching and running a spot near his knee. "You still didn't answer the question; what're you planning on doing?"

Steve jolts from his spot, the ice making his breath fog up, eyes leaving from their stare at Tony's finger to look up at his face, his eyes; wide, big, imploring. His lashes still so thick, fanned out.

"What about you?"

Tony levels him with an unimpressed stare, his finger stopped. He tucks his forearm across his chest, uses the back of his hand to prop his left elbow up so he can cradle his face. "Well, I gotta figure out a school for Morgan. Plan out some applications for the kids." Tony says it like it's obvious, of course hanging in the air it doesn't need to be said aloud.

"Kids?"

"Yup."

Steve nods, "So Morgan and, uh, Peter."

Tony nods, "Potato gun."

"What?" But Tony doesn't explain, his eyes have left him, his mind walking out of the room. Physical body lagging behind.

"Got MIT applications to plan out. Only the best for 'em." Tony whispers. Steve nods because it's the only thing he feels like he can do.

Speaking of, maybe he can pursuit a degree. It's a thought but it leaves him wanting something else. It's a goal that he can obtain, easily too, sure. But it's not what he really wants.

And these days, he'd told himself to be honest with himself. The ice cradles his face, his cheeks ruddy hot and all too uncomfortable. It's worst than the ice, than the water and the flakes that fell through the Valkyrie.

Bone-deep it makes him want to scratch out his skin. Stab a knife so deep he scrapes out the marrow of his bones.

"Travel." He eventually settles on, "Take my bike and travel."

Tony comes back to Earth almost like how Carol had carried the ship and placed it down as gently as she could. Tony comes down with hands that cradle him that aren't Steve's own. Tony comes back to his own hands; to Rhodes', Pepper's, Morgan's and Happy's; eventually to Peter's too.

"Travel," Tony repeats, nodding once, twice as if he had to take a moment to let it sink in. "What, no future Mrs. Rogers in that plan?" Tony moves his arms behind him, leaning back and he's back to swinging his feet from the floor, socked feet flying through the air. "A Mister?" He adds with a playful tilt of his lips.

Steve shakes his head, his own lips quirking despite the clench of his chest. The fabric of his shirt stretched too thin across his back, he's this close, struggling with each breath. Remember when you had asthma? The panic attacks?, he asks himself ruefully. "No. I waited too long."

He blinks and suddenly he's back at the Avengers' Tower. Bruce's expression a mix of everything that can't be tamped down. He mouths the words, still feeling them leave him as if it was yesterday: "As the world's leading authority on waiting too long; don't. You both deserve a win." He'd said that and watched as Bruce's face screwed up—because even then, it was obvious, wasn't it?

Wasn't it?

"I waited too long." He repeats because honesty—honesty, he'd promised himself, promised Tony whether he wants it or not; whether he's aware of it or not. "So, no. No missus or mister down the line."

"Bummer." Tony lets out. Like a sigh. Disappointed; he trembles before it, doesn't want to hope.

"Don't play matchmaker. I already had Natasha do that." He huffs out, something between disbelief and laughter. "Anytime someone tried to play matchmaker with me, something bad happened. Like SHIELD having Hydra in it."

"And here I was, about to enact my 20-step plan on getting your ass into something that doesn't make you look like you're trying to pass as a centenarian."

"Leave me alone, I'm old." The words fly naturally, the usual response. But rather than stilted stale air, Tony chuckles. And the ice creeps back just a tad, thaws and flakes off the skin of his cheeks.

Maybe. But he doesn't want to hope.

"And you? Besides school applications and," he waves a hand in the air as if he's batting away a fly; your farm, Pepper, domestic bliss—besides all that, can I be part of it too?

"Well, I was thinking of getting a nice tan. Lounge under the sun next to the lake. Sipping mimosas." Tony lifts a finger as if to make a point, "It's brunch somewhere after all."

"Of course." He finds himself chuckling. "That sounds," nice, great, wonderful for you. You deserve it, more than you know, more than you realise, "Quite nice." He rubs a hand down his face, feels the already growing stubble. He can shave it tomorrow, instead he presses down just a tad harder, short hairs yielding to white-tipped finger pads.

"You'd look good with a tan. I think."

Tony poses, as if preening, "Please, you think I got all these just by being me?"

"Well—"

"Rhetorical, don't answer that." The ice is chipping down the shape of his jaw, condensing the length of his neck.

And if this is all he can have. Never mind the sand shifting beneath him. He'll take it.

Travel, that's what he said, and he will. Maybe. Definitely. "Wanna outfit my bike before I leave?"

Tony looks at him and Steve swallows the shallow breaths because he doesn't want to hope. "Yeah." Tony moves his head to look out of the window, "I'm going to paint it hot-rod red too."

Steve doesn't hold back, laughs because he wants to. He'll savour this, hide it away in the chest of his heart. "Sure. I'll hold the stencils for you." Because he would, and he will.

When Tony looks back at him, Steve aches. His hands shake as they ball into fists. He finds himself asking, can you leave this? All of this? After so long? Something showed on his face, something in the dark depths of the answers to his own questions. And whatever Tony finds in his expression, in his eyes has the ice cracking. Spiderwebs on the surface.

It's too much to hope.

But then, but then he thinks back to a few seconds ago, a minute or so ago. Tan lines visible, fingers empty spaced.

If he rips his skin off and balls it up, stuffs it into a box with a pretty pink bow would he be able to say it?

"Where's a nice place to go to first?"

Tony straightens up, locks his ankles together. He takes his phone, taps away at it. Steve is helpless, simply watches and he knows Tony hasn't looked anything up yet.

"Malibu's nice." A shoulder shrug, "If you want to slum it up with shaggy surfers and 'Oh, I cannot believe Karen just said that' bikini tanners."

Steve slumps, shaking his head. Glancing away, down, where Tony's fingers are fast. "What, you're telling me you weren't like them? A bikini tanner?"

Tony makes an aborted movement like he's about to flip non-existent long hair over his shoulder, "I'll have you know I will never stoop to such a low level. If we're going to gossip, it needs to have a martini included."

"And, those bikini tanners didn't?"

"They didn't."

Steve fakes a gasp, hand on his chest. Avoids and catches a pen thrown at him.

Maybe if things were easier, he could say something. You're lucky you're cute, flirty and airy, reachable, touchable.

Instead, he aims the pen and throws it like a mini-spear. It bounces inside of a pencil holder before jumping out. Tony coos, lip pouting exaggerated. "You know, you and Clint should, like, make a bet; who can throw pens into pencil holders type of competition."

"Oh please," he reclines back into the chair, he doesn't slump down but he spreads his legs to mimic the ease of it, "Hawkeye versus Captain America? We all know who'd win."

Tony rolls his eyes.

"Elevator's not worthy", he recalls saying with Tony's hum of approval and agreement, Thor giving them a solid pat on the back. "Did you ever get the lawn maintained?"

Because Thor had left a mark on the grass and he, for once, doesn't remember if it was fixed or not.

"Hm?"

Steve glances out of the window, waves a hand to encompass the space outside them, of the room. "Remember when Thor left the, uh, bifrost mark on the lawn?"

"Ah." Tony nods, but then scowls, "You know what, I don't think so." Then he purses his lips, "Eh, it's fine. Memento, or whatever."

"Right." Right. Maybe he should have one—leave one. An old sketchbook, an old shirt. Bloody boxing hand wraps. A pair of khakis, or maybe an old helmet.

"Grand Canyon." Steve blinks. Tilts his head in silent askance. Tony lifts his phone as a gesture. "Grand Canyon. Unless you want to visit the biggest ball of twine or something? I bet that'd be right up your alley."

Steve raises a brow. "No? Stanley Hotel; heard it's super haunted. You never did peg me as someone who'd believe in ghosts. Or the supernatural, for that matter."

"Nope."

Tony sniffs, "I don't know. Try asking Nat for a BDSM club you could go to or something. God knows you need more hobbies."

"I already have one."

"Ah—" Tony raises a finger again, "I said more; didn't say you didn't have any."

Steve licks his lips, loosely crosses his arms against his chest, "Tried it, couldn't find the right partner."

Tony's eyes go wide. He runs a hand down his mouth, words muffled and shoulders shaking, "Did my ears deceive me? Captain America, poster boy for the American dream, partaking in hedonism? Well, I never." He adds a drawl at the end, trying for Southern. Steve smiles in the effort of it, because keeping it tamped down takes too much effort; unable to hide fondness.

He rolls his eyes, still, have to keep up appearances. And yeah, this. He'll tuck it away in his chest. Ignore the empty space between Tony's fingers, the visible tan lines.

When did that happen? Am I allowed to know? To ask? Simply, he submerges in this, whatever semblance they used to have.

It'd be a privilege to know, but it'd be an honour to be given the answer.

It takes months. It takes months, but it takes 5 simple seconds.

Everyone blinked and looked at him wide-eyed. "Safe."

Bruce sighs in relief before clapping his hands together. Sam and Bucky crowd up to him in hugs.

The hammer nearly falls from his grip, glad to have wrapped it around his wrist as he grips it tighter.

Tony stands in the back, a shoulder lifted, hip cocked, looking at the world as if he couldn't care less. And for a moment, Steve feels his chest flutter, his heart heavy, slow in each of its beats. But then Tony's lips smile, eyes crinkling and Steve gives him a minute nod, once, twice.

Sam looks on in disbelief, hands outstretched but not holding. "Are you sure? I mean, am I?" His throat bobs, "The right man for this job?"

"I like to think so." Steve keeps it between them, "Couldn't have asked for a better man."

Bucky knocks their shoulders together, playful. "Leaving me by the wayside, that it?"

"What, wanna hop on the back and cling to me?" Bucky screws his face up but the grin is there. Eyes glinting under the sunlight, Punk, he says with an eyeroll. Steve raises a brow and quirks a corner of his mouth up, Jerk.

The hammer is left at the compound. Propped on the night stand against the wall, just next to a lamp. "Would you be considered worthy?" He asks at the four-legged wooden furniture with lead in his veins, in his body. "Ah, but you'd have to wield it too. So, guess not." He answers for it. Anything to keep the weight steady, ignore the effort it takes to take a step.

In the depths of his mind, he admits, he'll miss this. Short of a stint it was, this was his third home. From the crumbling, old bricks in Brooklyn, to the sleek modernity of the Avengers' Tower, then eventually to the Avengers' Compound. Training drills, suicide runs, reinforced punching bags, bloody boxing hand wraps.

There's a photo, framed and the only one hanging. Taken way back when. The Shawarma owners offered to take it.

Dirty, muscle-ached, and slow fed until full.

He recalls the way Clint and Natasha had set their chairs to face each other, exchanging silent words, their legs tangled together. Two peas in a pod, best friends, siblings. He remembers Thor, hands shaking for something new to try, eyes bursting with a childishness that was refreshing to see, cheeks bulging as he ate and ate. Bruce had quietly asked if they had tea, anything vegetarian and was met with an emphatic smile and a pat on the shoulder. Tony sitting between them, legs spread underneath the table, eyes lost through that wormhole through space and time, fingers trembling so differently from just simple exhaustion.

He never got to ask what caused it. Instead, was slapped in the face with it. The fear, the loss, the burden on sloping shoulders that tried to carry the world on his own. Tony's hands trying to become Atlas' now that Atlas isn't there.

Recalls the way he wanted to take it from him, let me, but never really got to. Never, that is until the end. When hands trembled so much, muscles weak and weary, voice so quiet when it finally, finally asked for help. Sitting on the cold floor with gaunt cheeks and death right in front of him.

And he promised, means to keep it this time. Never again.

Gravel crunches beneath his boots, kicking up when he started the engine.

"Not even going to say goodnight?" Tony asks.

Heart in his throat, hair standing on end from where he knows Tony is looking at his back.

"You're just going to go, like that?"

"I'm coming back, you know." Nonchalance, but he was never a good liar. No, not to the people who mattered the most. Tony snorts, derisive.

He gets off the seat, making sure to not jostle his duffel bag from where it's strapped down behind him and takes his time turning.

In the distant lamp lights, Tony looks lonely. Shawl wrapped around his shoulders, grey streaking his temples, thick-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

His arms ache with the absence of it all.

"I'm coming back." He reinforces, keeps his gaze steady, locked, as it always is, on Tony. I promise. But the doubt is there, cultured by cynicism and their past. And he can't blame the other for it.

So he digs into the pocket of his pants, the gravel moves with him, noisy.

The thread is broken, he knows. But maybe he can use something stronger, wrap it and wind it tighter. This one stronger than a measly single strand of something.

It's not vibranium, he wants to say. But it's stronger than cotton or nylon or polyester; stronger than the broken one still hanging apart between them.

The tags click and clack against each other. He takes care to not let his fingers brush against night-cooled skin. But he watches the way it settles against an old shirt, cradled between a dark blue shawl and fingers that trace the letters and numbers.

When he looks up, Tony's eyes are bearing down at him. Roots him to the spot.

Cracked chapped lips parted open, breath fogged just a tad in the chasm between their warm bodies.

"I'm coming back." And stay with you, if you'll have me.

Tony blinks, "You already did."

"And I will again."

The engine's been running for so long that it stalls and turns off. Tony's attention turns to it, hisses, scowling up at him. "That's not good for the engine." It isn't, he knows. But it's either the bike's engine stalling or—or.

"One of these days," Tony mumbles, clutching his shawl, eyes staring down the bike with its hot-rod red flames and gold details and dark blue shadows. "You'll miss your train."

"Huh?"

"You'll stay with me, then we'll have drinks and talk about things. Get an excuse to stay awake with you." When those chocolate brown eyes turn back to him, Steve finds himself flat footed, not knowing where to stand, breathe, walk or look.

"What, doesn't ring a bell?" Tony asks, mirthful and mirthless simultaneously.

"I—uh, no. I don't know that reference." Tongue too thick in his throat.

Tony tilts his head down, shaking his head softly. "It's from this artist, forget it." Adam's apple bobbing, "Actually."

A hand reaches out and clenches on the front of his shirt. Fingertips cold from the late evening air. It shakes as it clenches tight. And Steve finds himself taking a small step forward, body bowing into a curve forward; a sunflower following the sun.

"Goodnight." Tony breathes, head tilting up; his eyes falling half-lidded, mesmerising dark browns.

Remember the asthma? Panic attacks? Like you've ran and ran, more than 13 miles in 30 minutes, more than 26 miles in 45 minutes. He wasn't informed, never, that breathlessness can come from many things.

This, he thinks, mind too far from his body, fingers craving, arms aching, This is nicer in comparison to suicide drills, giddy in the chest.

"Goodnight." He breathes out—head too empty; the sound of rushing blood too loud in the crickets singing in the distance, the hum of the lamp posts a yards away from them.

"Miss your train," Tony mumbles, the world shifts, "And stay."

His lips are cold but the ice and the lead disappear. It cracks and bends out of shape. Bursts in a loud cacophony, unable to be comprehended.

The empty spaces fill up, the skin of his knees, the marks of his back bubble and heal; scarred, leaking but healing. Stitching itself together. The sand is tacky and annoying, clings and clings until he gives in, arms winding.

For a moment, he thinks it'll slide right off, like it always does. Crumbles to dust before him. But solid warmth carves into the space, lets it be known with fingers threaded through the long ends of his hair.

It ends sooner than he'd like. A smack then a rush of cold air that knocks into him harder than a wayward train in a foreign country.

Lashes fluttering, thick, still, fanned out, eyes blinking, brown and black in the dark; an entire universe held within them.

"Stay." He whispers. He's nodding, but he doesn't know why, only stopping as he watches Tony's shoulders sags, lips kiss-warmed and curved so beautifully, Steve finds his own achingly bereft. Licks them to sooth the dryness, the emptiness. The gap.

"This is the song," Steve awes, sitting up straight in revelation.

"Hm?" Tony hums, head tilting to accommodate weight, lips tracing the length of his neck, from the shoulder to nook behind his ear.

"The one you referenced."

"Ah. Finally figured it out and heard it, huh."

"It's adorable."

Tony leans back, "Why must you be so cute?"

Steve hides his grin into his skin, kisses them down the line of the other's throat, "Impossible to ignore you. Making me laugh so much."

Facing each other, fingers find their way through tresses of his hair, longer now. Something new, he once said, and delighted in the tug that stung his scalp.

"I guess you could say that we get along, so well."

Their lips smile. Met in the middle, great gaping maw bridged so easily, covered so lightly.

I love you.

"I love you."

Fingers hefted with a glinting weight, tan lines much more visible now whenever it's taken off, but barely leaving the warmth of his skin.

Together.

[ask-robokasa-and-rui]

Lore Post// Chapter 3 Finale

Tw: Graphic Descriptions

After Saki and Emu talked things out, they came to a conclusion. Even if Tsukasa couldn't be revived, he could have a replacement.

Phew! Okay! It's done!

In front of them...was Robokasa.

Robokasa is finished!

Since it has all the programs and codes you need, it's basically a copy!

A copy... A replacement....

Let's start him up!

Saki pushes the on button.

...Hello there! My name is Tsukasa! But you can call me Robokasa!

He seems different...

But you chose his personality! You wanted him to be more full of emotion right? Well there he is!

It looks like I'm not alone! I have another robot with me!

Yes you do! I'm Emu Otori! But call me Emurobo!

Ahahaha!!!

Hehe! You two are getting along! Come to think of it...After I killed Ena with Emu, Emu seems more lifelike...like a real person. And it's quite powerful. Maybe it's because she felt Ena when she killed her...then that means...!

Saki-chaan! We're two robots now, but will we have more?

Hm....Hmm...Ehehehe! Of course you will. I know you will.

Do you have an idea on who?

Her name is Mafuyu Asahina. I'm sure you'll love her.

Mafuyu...?

Emu!

Yes?

I need you to do me a favor. As for you, Robokasa...

Saki pushes the off button.

Rest for now...big things are coming...big things.

Kanade has been staying in Minori's house for over 2 months now. It was time she went home...

She opens the door and closes it behind her.

Saki! I'm back...How are y-!!!

She turns around, and sees Mafuyu tied to a chair with a robotic version of her standing beside her.

Huh?!

Kanade!! Kanade!! You're back! Oh, just in time!

Saki?! What are you doing?!

Oh just wait one second! I'll show you everything! But first, Mafurobo! Kill her.

-?!

Mafurobo stabs Mafuyu through their head to their mouth.

Aww man! I wish Mafuyu could see my creations! But I suppose she can't now~

Mafurobo stabs Mafuyu's head more, and more, and more. Her tongue falls off, her eyes pop out of their socket. Kanade can tell she was trying to scream, but most probably her vocal chords were ripped. So she couldn't. Mafurobo opens her mouth. Starting with the head, Mafurobo crushes Mafuyu's body.

AAAAAAAAAH!!!!!! WHAT DID YOU DO?!

AHAHAHAHAHA!!! Now Mafurobo can be just like her! How wonderful~

YOU'RE SICK!!! YOU'RE ABSOLUTELY SICK!!!

Kanade runs to the door but Mafurobo reaches her, grabs her leg and twists it. Breaking it.

AAAAAAAAAAGH!!! HA....AAHH....AAAH....

Can't go anywhere, can you?

What do you want from me...

You're a gooood programmer! I need you to work for me! Now with your legs, it's clear you have no choice.

...!!

Now now...Don't get upset...I'll provide you everything you need as payment!

No...no no no no no no no no no!!!! Let me go! I don't want to work with you!

Too bad~

Saki lifts Kanade up and starts walking to a room. In the room was Robokasa and a bed.

Here...

Saki lays Kanade down on the bed

Rest for this short while. You won't be getting any more from now on...

...!

Saki leaves the room, shutting the door.

Hello!

...Tsukasa...?

Oh! You know my name! That's great! But if you'd like you can call me Robokasa!

...Robokasa...No...Tsukasa.

Okay! That's-...fine aswell!

...

...I'm sorry for your legs!

...Shut it.

Okay.

Meanwhile in the other room.

Saki-chaaan!!!

Emu comes into the room from a window with a bag.

Emu!! You're back! Did you get it?!

Yep! Here it is!! Tsukasa Tenma's corpse...

Aaah-!!!!

Emu opens the bag to reveal Tsukasa's dead body.

Oh look at that! That's my brother...

I detect some stuff moving in his body, but it's most likely bugs!

Oh don't worry! My dad used to own a Warehouse, and he gave it to me and Tsukasa! But~ since I'm the one who's breathing... I can use it for Tsukasa's corpse! All I have to do is get the neede resources for his body to function again! And then! He'll be alive!! Once again!!!

That's a brilliant idea! And our hostage can help with that too!

Yes...yes!!! AHAHAHHAAHHAHAHA!!!!!!

End of Chapter 4

Tags: @aspenii @bobcross1010 @blankblyke @delartz @kusanagi-nene-official-mod @kiwi-does-stuff @mizuribbons @mai-mai-mai @t4marr @scodscod

[thepenultimateword]

Love Thy Enemy Part 4

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Vorrin wanted to destroy everything. Starting with this idiotic outfit.

The guards shoved him writhing and snarling into his bedroom, giving him no time for a proper charge before slamming and locking the grand oak door like the cell that it was. His fists slammed on the wood hard enough to send his nerves prickling, and a throat-scraping roar ripped the cold, empty quiet asunder.

He threw his overcoat off his shoulders, working his thumb into a little tear in the back—it must have happened when he fell to the street—and ripped it straight down the middle. He didn't stop tearing until the fabric lay in silky tatters on the floor. The suffocating tie of his tunic was next, ripped entirely from the collar to leave a jagged, triangular hole from throat to mid-chest.

More. More. His fingers itched, no, burned with hungry fury. Almost like if he didn’t find more things to release it on, it would consume him from the inside out. He searched the room rabidly, quickly settling on the bed. In a few strides, he reached the mattress and wrenched the bedsheets off, shredding the silk fabric into long, frayed strips. Next, pillows, ripping them by the seams and tossing the feathers to the ground in violent handfuls.

He kicked the table over. He broke the chair legs by crashing it into the stone wall. He was just about to pull down the velvet curtains when the door unlatched and Empress Callista strode through.

Two guards trailed at her heels, reaching for their weapons at the sight of Vorrin’s recent work. Empress Callista halted them.

“Are you done throwing a tantrum?” she said coolly, stepping within arms-length.

“How could you do that?” Vorrin seethed. His fingers twitched at his sides, fighting the overwhelming urge to wrap them around her throat. He wouldn’t last two seconds against her guard. And where would it get him? An execution order and nothing changed.

“Defend you? It was quite easy actually, despite your bad opinion of me, I don’t particularly like seeing my consort shoved to the ground and verbally assaulted for things outside his control.”

“She hadn’t seen her son since the surrender; she was scared.”

“Everyone is scared, but we all make a choice on how we manifest it. She chose poorly. As did you.”

Vorrin reeled, an incredulous scoff already on his lips. “Me?”

“You humiliated me.”

“How—”

“You publicly spoke against an imperial ruling.” Her hand darted out like a cobra, seizing him by the jaw. “These people need to know that there are no other options. That I am impenetrable. You made me look weak.”

Vorrin gritted his teeth, expression turned to stone beneath her bruising grip. “You made yourself look weak.”

The implication was there, as stupid as it was for him to remind her. If she wanted him taken care of, she’d have to send him to the dungeons or kill him. She would never tame him into her pet.

Empress Callista raised a brow but said nothing, molten amber eyes poring over his own brown like she could read every thought and secret within. Vorrin broke first.

As his gaze hit the floor, Empress Callista stepped back toward the door.

“Since you take pleasure in destroying the comforts I provide you," she said, "you can enjoy the night without them.”

Vorrin scoffed knowingly. “I knew it wouldn’t be long until you were starving me for results.”

“Hm? No. Your manservants will bring you dinner, but they’re not staying. You can undo that hair on your own; no new outfit either, since you've proven you can't take care of them. You may sleep without a sheet or mattress since you apparently don't want them, as well as figure out how you'll be eating your food without a chair for your table." She swung the door wide and strode into the wall with a whoosh of fabric, rich black braid swinging on her back. She stopped just over the threshold, not even turning as she called one last punishment. "I'll see you in the morning."

***

As it turned out, undoing Pins's meticulous work was harder than Vorrin thought. The chains tangled in his awakening curls, only tying knots--in both metal and hair--the more he tried to free them. He was able to tear one side free, strand by broken strand, leaving a clump of wispy locks twisted around one end. The other side pulled at his scalp but held a much larger chunk of hair for him to risk tearing it out by force. He let his hang behind his ear with the rest of the tangles.

Luckily, today's outfit was more familiar than the previous one's, making it easy to remove what remained for bed. And he was used to sleeping unclothed, so he wasn't too concerned about lacking a nightshirt. That is, until night fell and the room became an ice house. He'd never realized how much the sheet had aided in keeping him warm.

He chided himself. He'd grown soft these past months, accustomed to the luxury he scorned. He'd slept in colder conditions than this on the battlefield, or even in the barracks when winter hit. There was only one hearth in that wing, and it hardly heated the entire space. He had his own here, but no flint to light it. He hadn't thought to ask either manservant when they dropped off dinner if they could spare some.

He curled up in the middle of the bed, drawing the lightweight covers--only spared by being crumpled on the floor during his fury--around his shoulders. With that, he fell into a restless slumber.

Until the knife woke him.

He knew it before he was fully conscious, eyes shooting open, hand flying to his side for a nonexistent weapon, and then toward the threat, only to have his arm pinned to his side like the one on the other side which the intruder knelt on.

Vorrin opened his mouth, but the blade held his cry hostage in his throat, a large lump he had to uncomfortably swallow.

"Don't try to scream," said the intruder from the dark overhead. "I'd rather not damage valuable goods."

Vorrin swallowed again. Was this a kidnapping? Another cursed gift the empress had bestowed on him by showing him attention? He never would have had to deal with this when he was just a general.

"You hate her, don’t you?"

The voice interrupted his thoughts, low and creaky, like wind on an old tavern door. The blade lifted just slightly to allow words.

"What?"

"The empress," the voice urged impatiently. "You hate her."

A new warning bell sounded in Vorrin's skull. This could be a trap. The empress's own attacker sent to test him. Though his hatred was no secret.

"Yes."

The knife lifted a fraction further.

"We saw you in The Dregs. A chink in the dragoness's bloody scales. Or maybe a weapon. An unwieldy one. Now, why would she keep something like that so close?"

"Don't know," Vorrin growled noncommittally. "Guess I'm just that pretty. How'd you get in?"

A chuckle and the weight shifted off of him. "We're everywhere the light isn't."

"We?"

"Freedom fighters. People in rebellion against the latest power exchange. Like you."

Half a question, half a statement.

This reeked of a trap.

What were the chances of an actual rebellion, what he'd wanted but found impossible to reach, coming straight to him within the palace walls.

"I'm not a freedom fighter."

"Not yet."

"No, I'm--"

The shadow dropped their hood.

The moonlight illuminated a long, hollow face, pale and ghostly as the ashen hair that framed it. The angry red lines of a sigil burned from the center of his forehead to his brows and hairline: an eye with a compass coming out of it, though the arrow points were shaped suspiciously like daggers. Even if Vorrin didn't recognize the man, he certainly recognized that mark. Not that he'd had many chances to see it on someone breathing.

"Since when are The Eye freedom fighters?"

"Since our home became enemy soil. A man can be a cutthroat and a patriot at the same time."

Vorrin tightened his jaw disbelievingly.

The assassin grinned. "The Empress may have also threatened our profit if that is a more trustworthy motive. She’ll have us all hunted like dogs before the year is out."

Vorrin slowly pushed himself upright, keeping eye contact all the while. He quietly slowed his breathing, in turn calming his heart. "Why are you here? What do you want from me?"

"Now that's the right question." The man sat crisscross on the mattress, chin leaned into one hand while the other still twirled his dagger. "I got in here, but believe it or not, we can’t get anywhere near the Empress."

Vorrin thought about his daily patdowns and her constant entourage of guards. He could believe it.

“You, on the other hand, my angry friend. You are up close and personal with the Empress all the time.”

“Only just,” Vorrin muttered, seeing where this was going. He’d only made contact with Empress Callista yesterday, and he was certain that whatever the man imagined their relationship to be was nowhere near the truth.

“Better than any of our other options.”

“Look,” Vorrin eyed the assassin’s dagger, preparing for a wrestle when this probably went badly. “I have no interest in joining The Eye.”

“Shame. But not important. I don’t come on behalf of the Eye; I come on behalf of a united rebellion. I am simply the vessel that was chosen and willing to reach you. That’s what you want after all, right? The Empress gone?” He flashed another crooked tooth grin at Vorrin’s narrowed eyes. “See, I’ve done my research, High General Vorrin. Your position. Your stand against the Empress’s army. Your surrender as a war prize for the lives of your men.”

“How…” Not even all his men knew the truth of that day.

“I make a habit of knowing exactly what I’m dealing with before walking into a dark room. Point is, we want the same things. Empress Callista dead and the kingdom restored under a Totholian flag.”

“Under who’s rule? Yours?”

“Thank you.” The assassin held a dramatic, flattered hand to their chest. “But not my style. No, the rebels are chasing the rumor of the King’s Duras’s survival.”

Vorrin straightened a little taller in his seat. King Duras may have been problematic but when it came down to it, a legitimate royal brought comfort. The people trusted it more than another total overturn of power. And it meant a chance to end this nightmare. “Do you know—“

“No,” the assassin said. “Could be true, could be rumor, but if anyone can find him, it will be us. In the meantime we need to move. Before her hold grows any tighter.

Vorrin tried not to show his disappointment. He’d never been a gambler. As much as he wanted the Avarose Empire out, he wanted anarchy even less. With no concrete option for the throne, he would do well not to kick the already panicking beehive.

“I know it’s risky,” the assassin said as if reading Vorrin’s thoughts. “But what can we do? What will you do? Accept your fate? Doom your men to the dungeons? And…don’t you want redemption?”

Vorrin clenched the covers. “Redemption?”

“You did what you had to in the moment. But you can still save your kingdom for real.”

Save the kingdom. He’d lived months with this guilt, it weighed on him at all times. And then there was Empress’s condescending. The way she had taken his life at sword point. What she’d done today. He couldn’t trust her word that his men would one day be released.

“What would you have me do? She doesn’t trust me.”

“Then make her. Get close to her. And when she lets her guard down…” The assassin pressed the dagger into Vorrin’s hand. “Finish what you started.”

Part Five

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[trashshouldnt]

the forms we take: story six, blood rage

word count: 1k

content warnings: gore [mild]

synopsis: your name is Vern, and tonight you and your pack of shapeshifters are on their way to kill your corrupt senator. it's time for revenge.

posting one of my stories as a sneak peek of what's to cone in my book :] you don't need much context for this one other than that shapeshifters are persecuted in society in this story. enjoy!!

i am hunting, and i am angry.

i prowl through the suburban twilight hellscape, looking for her, shifted into my choice disguise — a large, cumbersome white dog stained red by the blood already shed tonight.

they'll pay, He whispers in my ear. they'll all see how strong you've become, and they will shake like the leaves in the trees, cower in their insolence. they'll pay.

i spot my ally, a coyote's form in the distance, eyes glowing red. it's a night of reckoning. i know he's summoned all his allies too. i shift, muscles rippling into a new shape as bones crack into place. i stand, unsteady on my hind legs, and painstakingly walk forward towards her door. she needs to let me in.

i knock, straightening my back and slicking down my dog's ears. in the dim light, she'll only see a scruffy "man" with strange eyes. nothing out of the ordinary for this neighborhood. nothing out of the ordinary for the company she keeps.

lose the snout, He whispers, and i oblige, cracking the bones into shape before i knock. wiping the blood away as it trickles from my nose. good boy. you'll have your pound of flesh tonight.

she opens the door. gasps. goes to shut it. i catch the handle, yanking it open and catching her when my strength makes her fall off balance.

"hello, senator Holly," i growl. "brought some friends along, hope you don't mind. such a lovely home you've got here, really. mind if i come in?"

i toss her away from me, and she lands sprawled in the foyer, eyes wide with terror. "you! you're dead!" she cries, clutching at her chest as He laughs in my ear. yes, YES! make her pay, flay her and leave her on the lawn. take your revenge, don't waste your time.

i laugh, bitter and harsh. "you killed someone, certainly. but not me. im more... resilient." i admire my arns as they formshift, hands mutilating into bladelike talons, tendons and sinew exposed. my allies flood into the house as i step towards her, menacing.

"my daughters are upstairs, they'll hear you and call the police!" she warbles, voice high, her pupils darting across our familiar faces. "you don't want to do this, you vermin."

"i think you'll find we do, senator. in fact, we've been waiting for this for a very, very long time."

we lunge, all one swirling gorey motion as she screams an endless scream. fangs and talons, claws and human weapons tear through her, some simply grabbing and ripping at anything they can reach. eyes, hair, clothes, skin, nothing is safe. i get the most delicious part, slitting open the hag's guts and watching my friends rip and tear at what spills out. all the while, He laughs and cackles, urging us all on in our minds.

KILL. GO ON, KILL THE COWARD. SHE INTENDS TO BREAK US, BUT SHE UNDERESTIMATES YOU. HAVE NO MERCY, TAKE NO PRISONERS.

while the dogs tear through her, i stalk my way upstairs. i have someone to rescue.

***

i am hidden in my bedroom, waiting for him.

the door is locked so my mother can't get in, and im practicing my transformations like he asked. im going to be part of something greater, he promised me.

there's a howl outside. i rush to the window, seeing the shape of a coyote pack in the distance, there by the rising moon.

it's them.

i race to my sister's room, knocking urgently. she opens the door, and from her face i know she knows it too. we're getting out of here, tonight.

we huddle on the bed, listening as our captor's muffled voice through the walls as our savior appears. but when the screams start, we weep.

no matter how she hated what we were, no matter how she tried to smother us, she was our mother. and now she's gone.

i hear the footfalls on the stairs before my sister, ears pricked to the door.

slowly, the handle turns. i rush to my father, our new guardian, and we embrace. my sister is quick to follow, burying her face into his furry shoulder. we're safe now, i think. we're free.

***

i hold my new pups, stained in the blood of their mother, and we cry. oh... they're so small, He whispers. these pups need more than this life, Vern, He tells me, and i agree.

gently, she takes my gore stained claws in her hand, and looks up into my eyes. we don't speak, but i understand. thank you.

i pick them up, one in each arm, and gently take them downstairs. we go out the garage, to avoid the grisly sight of their old guardian and my... predisposed pack. it's still twilight, almost time to move on to the next revenge plan, but for now i savor the air. the feeling of satisfaction. we've done it, Vern, He says, and He's right. we've done it.

we won't be killed anymore. there's more of us, and more who support us, than there are them. i can't believe it took us this long to realize.

the night is beautiful. the night is young.

we will survive.

***

my father is a good man. i have to tell myself that.

he's holding us, my sister asleep on his shoulder. i don't know how she sleeps, not when the smell of gore and iron saturates the air. not when i still hear her gurgling and dying in the foyer.

im not as old as my sister, im not as "wise" as her, but i know that cruelty is wrong. that fearing our mother is a bad sign. but i can't let her death go.

i cry, as silent as i can.