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rin-may-1103 · 25 days ago

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The Eyes of Death. Pt 2

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"Robin!" Orcale cried through the coms, startling Damian as he ducked beneath a punch thrown his way. Growling, Damian Sparta kicked the goon before him, spun around, and throat-punched the last one standing.

"What?" he huffed, glancing around his area to see if he had missed something; Father was facing off against Penguin, Tim was taunting Mr. Freeze, and Jason was plowing his way through the rest of the goons down on the ground floor.

Gunshots flashed by and up toward the roof, drawing his attention.

Turning around, Damian watched as Dick jumped from the rafters and dropped two other goons with brutal precision, their guns clattering to the ground. That's four. He could still hear Steph and Cass fighting in the other room over the comms, which makes it six. (Seven if he counted Duke, who was at home resting after a long patrol) They were still up and fighting, which meant nothing was out of place.

"Your boyfriend wouldn't happen to be named Daniel Fenton, right?" Barbara's voice was strained. She practically begged him to correct her and prove she was mistaken.

Damian tensed up but rushed over to help down the goons surrounding Dick, his heart thundering away in his chest. "What happened?" he growled, drawing his katana when a goon quickly pulled a knife. The sound of metal against metal almost blocked her voice, but Damian could still make out what she said.

"He's been taken by some cultists, they're broadcasting everything. They're setting up the ritual right now; they cut his arm and are using his blood mixed with black paint to mark the ground. I'm pretty sure he's in shock, he barely reacted to the cut."

"Oh, shit!" Steph cursed, "not the boyfriend!"

"Where?" he grunted, parrying the knife away and kicking the guy over the railing. The man's scream cut out as his body hit the floor. "Robin!" Father hissed in anger, quickly tying up Penguin.

"He'll live!" Damian shouted back as he marched toward the door and reached for his grapple gun, "Oracle! Where is he?"

The others could finish up here without him, they had already dealt with what the two rouges had been planning. All that was left was to gather up the goons and hand everyone over to the GCPD. His boyfriend, who hadn't texted him to tell him he had gotten home safe because apparently he'd been kidnapped by cultists, was more important than beating the crap out of some lowly goons.

"The Financial District, warehouse seven on 4th street." she huffed, the sound of keys clicking as she sent him the live footage. Clicking the side of his mask, he was met with the sight of his boyfriend bound to a chair and glaring up at the camera. His blue eyes were filled with more annoyance than fear, but that didn't reassure Damian at all when the camera backed up and revealed Danny's heavily bleeding arm.

They must have cut an artery with how deep the wound looked. The only reason he wasn't already dead from blood loss was because of how tight the ropes were, it seemed.

"Shit," Damian hissed as he shot his grapple up at the building across the street, "make sure an ambulance is en route, Danny's going to need it. They must have cut through his radial artery if not both."

He could hear Dick hold back a gasp at his words but ignored it, as he flew toward the roof and started running. A loud thud landed behind him, followed by footsteps as Father's gruff voice echoed into his ear as they ran. "Jets on its way, it'll be faster than the car." Damian silently changed direction, continuing to jump roofs.

"I'm coming with," Dick demanded, landing a couple buildings behind them. Damian grunted in acknowledgment, not caring what they did. He needed to be there, he needed to be there thirty minutes ago; when he should have been walking Danny home like he asked him too.

"GOTHAM!" the person holding the camera shouted with a slip of paper in their other hand, allowing the camera a glimpse of the words. Danny's eyes narrowed even more, something like disbelief filling his eyes as the man continued talking, "Tonight, you shall join us as we summon the most powerful being in the world!"

"Danny looks so disappointed," Dick snorted, pulling out his own grapple at the sound of the jet approaching. Of course, Danny was disappointed, it was a waste of paper just to remember so little. Damian agreed but couldn't do anything other than huff at his brother's comment, most of his focus on watching the video.

Dick wrapped an arm around him, firing at the jet just as it rocketed overhead. They were launched into the air and dragged over buildings as the jet flew toward their destination. Father dangled across from them for a second before the three of them latched onto the rail under the jet designed for quick departure. They sat in silence as all three of them focused back on the video feed.

"Now," the leader shouted, coming into view as the cameraman backed up. Danny and the freshly painted circle were in full view, but so was the group of people off to the side. Damian recognized two of the people on the ground. Nancy and Wyatt, Danny's forcibly appointed college guides or "parents".

Damian remembers the day Danny had been introduced to them, spouting vitriol in anger about them being acephobic and how the college wouldn't allow him to switch guides. Nancy was crying, her mascara running down her face. Wyatt was deathly pale, all the blood bleeding away from his face as he watched the cultists in what looked like horrified guilt.

"Let us begin," the leader cheered, grabbing Danny's shoulders from behind him. Danny glanced worriedly at the group and then at the camera like he couldn't decide what he should focus on, subconsciously cringing away from the man behind him.

"Join me as we summon our lord and savior!" Danny narrowed his eyes in anticipation, "The great tyrant of the dead!" he now looked confused, "The embodiment of war and bloodshed!" back to worried, "The one named PARIAH DARK!" amused, because of course, his boyfriend would find the name amusing, "THE HORRIFIC GHOST KING!!!" now he was back to confused and worried.

The leader turned and walked back over to one of his followers, snatching an old book and opening it. Without any fanfare, the man began chanting, guiding his followers like he was the director of a twisted play.

"ten minutes," Father grunted, "Oracle, get everything you can on the ghost king. We need to know what we're about to run into. Call someone from Dark, we'll probably need their guide on how to deal with this."

Dick readjusted his grip, tightening his arm in reassurance as Danny's eyes glanced up and toward the rafters like he was looking for one of them. No, not like. He was looking for them; because Damian had promised him in the past that if he was ever in trouble, the bats would save him. And if not them then he would. Danny had rolled his eyes at the time, sarcastically calling him his hero. But he believed him because Damian had promised.

Damian growled as one of the cultists smashed a bowl on the ground, splattering Danny in what he had to assume was the blood and paint mixture Barbera had told him about earlier.

Damian watched as Danny glared at the black stains all over his front with disdain, trying to mutter something through the gag in his mouth the camera couldn't catch. "Is he seriously worried about his shirt?" Tim huffed over comms, the sound of police sirens growing louder.

"I would too if that's the only nice shirt I had," Steph grumbled before shouting something at someone.

"My boyfriend owns more than one shirt, Spoiler." Damian hissed.

"No offense, Damian," Steph laughed, "but your boyfriend looks like he crawled out of a dumpster after losing a fight against one of your raccoons."

"Oh, give him a break! The poor boy's just been kidnapped, of course, he looks bad." Barbera chided.

Damian went to respond but stopped to watch as another cultist stepped forward and tossed salt at Danny. Danny shook his head and glared at the cultist, only to be slapped in the face with another handful of salt for his efforts.

"That's one way to rub salt in the wound," Jason huffed, "make sure you kick that one in the dick for me."

"With pleasure," Damian grumbled, leaning back to try and see the warehouse they were heading toward. "Seven minutes," Father added, noticing how impatient Damian was starting to get.

they silently watched as the cultists continued chanting, Barbera occasionally telling them things she'd found. (She was having difficulty connecting with The Dark members, something about an unexpected mission off-world.)

Danny was starting to look tired, his face paler than usual (A hard feat, considering his boyfriend looked like a fresh corpse on a good day. If he didn't know any better, he would think his boyfriend had never spent a second in the sun his entire life.)

Suddenly, Danny started to cough, shaking his head, clenching his eyes closed in pain for a second before focusing back on the leader. "The blood loss is starting to catch up to him," Tim commented as Danny glanced up at the rafters again, "let the hospital know to have extra blood ready."

"Got it," Barbera agreed, still typing away. "No one's answering, I'm going to try Constantine, now."

"Two minutes," Father warned, getting ready to jump. Damian steadied himself, leaning forward to time his jump correctly. "Shit," Jason cursed, drawing Damian's attention back to the video in time to watch as a cultist raised a bloody blade into the air and slammed it into Danny's chest. "You need to get there, now!"

The cultist yanked out the knife and handed it to the leader, who was now standing in front of Danny. Danny's chest quickly stained red, his eyes wide in shock and horror.

"Take this lowly sacrifice as a sign of our eternal loyalty, and grace us with your presence! Your humble servants plead that your godly ears hear our prayers! Join us in this mortal realm and bequeath us your power and name to rectify the sins of our brethren!" the leader's voice echoed in the silent warehouse like a gunshot. but Damian couldn't hear a single word the man spoke as he watched Danny lean forward in pain, trying to grab at his chest.

His restrained hands pulled against the rope, causing more blood to leak from his wound, his eyes clenching shut as his left hand started glowing green. He suddenly started screaming, his voice strained like it was being ripped out of his throat, barely muffled by the gag.

A bright light flashed, spreading from where he'd been stabbed and crawling over his body. His skin turned gray, almost blue, like a body found out in a snowstorm. His hair started floating in an absent current like he was underwater. and his eyes started glowing a bright blue, growing brighter and brighter.

"NOW!" Father shouted, launching off the railing and gliding through the air. Damian didn't hesitate to follow, all his training allowing him to go on autopilot as he used his cape to guide his fall.

Danny slumped forward, his head hanging limp as the warehouse went deathly silent.

Twisting in the air, Damian aimed his grapple hook and fired. It latched onto the warehouse and tugged him forward, his fall turning into a swing as he rocketed toward the glass window. "Your Highness?" someone asked, their voices glitching in and out with the video feed.

Damian watched as the Danny in the video slowly lifted his head in time with the Danny he could see through the quickly approaching glass. Damian only had a split second to register that his boyfriend's eyes were no longer blue, but bright green before his feet smashed through the window and he was landing in a roll on the ground.

Immediately, the camera feed disappeared from his view, allowing him to focus on what was around him. Father crashed through the skylight, showering the cultists in glass as he landed on the other side of the room. Dick landed next to him, fluidly popping up from his roll.

"Shit!" someone shouted, "it's the bats!"

"run!" someone else yelled.

Damian lunged forward, burying his fist into the first cultist's face with a satisfying crunch. The warehouse flooded with loud screams and rapid movement.

"Dammit!" the leader cursed, dragging Damian's attention over to him. He had left the circle at some point, crazily looking around to try and find a quick exit.

Abandoning the cultists he was fighting, Damian quickly sprinted at the man. Unsheathing his katana, Damian attacked. The leader used the bloody knife to parry, scrambling back to get away. Damian growled, about to follow when his eyes landed on Danny's black and blood-stained face right behind the man.

Bright Lazarus green eyes stared back.

Danny's vision tilted, or was that just his head? It felt like he was in one of those twisty things NASA shoves their astronauts in under the claim of training for departure and reentry into Earth's atmosphere. or maybe it felt like a hundred pounds of soaked cotton balls shoved behind his eyes and lit on fire?

he couldn't tell, at this point, his head could be detached for all he knew. Wait, no. He's done that before, this feels nothing like that. So, he still had his head... but does his head still have a body???

He would glance down, but he's afraid he won't be able to lift his head again... Had he lifted his head? or had the world moved around him like it does in the realms? Where was he?

Danny's core pulsed in confusion as someone stepped over the circle, quickly followed by someone else. No one was supposed to enter unless a deal was about to be made. Had he made a deal?

Blinking, he focused his blurry vision as much as he could on the figure slowly approaching him. Had he already been looking at them? His vision tilted again, making his gut roll in nausea. A voice slowly broke through the static ringing in his ears, and his shirt suddenly pulled in frightened hands.

"Your Highness! these are the sinners I told you about!" the voice screeched, a pitch so out of the norm that Danny could only assume the voice belonged to a small fly-turned-eldritch little girl.

Wait a moment, that was his title? Your Highness? seriously? Was everyone going to be calling him that? He was the king; wasn't it supposed to be majesty??? He'll ask Dora later; now wasn't the time.

"Oh great ghost king!" the high-pitched voice cracked and lowered back to one he was starting to get familiar with, "Pariah Dark, lend me your power so I might defeat him!"

Did he seriously just call Danny, Pariah??? The man, the leader of the cult, Mr. totally-read-one-fake-ritual-book-when-he-was-a-teen-and-now-has-to-make-it-everyone's-problem, kneeled in front of Danny, his hands twisted into Danny's ruined shirt. The blurry figure froze, not moving now that Danny had broken eye contact to look down at the horrible man.

Danny might be completely out of it and have no idea what's going on anymore, (he was in so much pain, why was there so much pain? he wanted it to go away, why wasn't it going away?) but he's been trained for moments like this. He can't let anyone see him as weak, not when he has to protect the realms as is his kingly duty.

Clockwork thought it would be a good idea to drop him in the middle of a meeting with some demons right after Danny had pulled an all-nighter and fought three of his rouges. let's just say, Danny was not pleased with the old goat after that. On the other hand, every time he meets a new demon, they seem to respect him much more than before. (he's still not sure what he did to earn that, but whatever)

So, acting like nothing was wrong would be easy peasy.

Sitting up straight, like Dora taught, Danny gazed down at the man who had demanded his attention. He turned his jaw intangible, dropping the gag and allowing him to speak freely again, "why should I?" His voice was echoey, cold, and devoid of the usual emotion.

It was completely different than what it usually was. Like he was a completely different person. (He sounded like Dan) which caught Danny off guard, but he had to ignore it for now. Clockwork had said that Danny Phantom was different from King Phantom, maybe this is what he meant. (hopefully not, he hated sounding like Dan. Was this permanent? was he always going to sound like this???)

"Why?" the leader stumbled, letting go of Danny's shirt in surprise, "because I summoned you! I control you!"

He looked outraged like it was Danny's fault he was in this mess.

Snorting, Danny smirked at the man. "Why should I lend you my power when you haven't even gotten my name correct?" That was like common summoning courtesy 101, right? Frostbite said something like that... or was it Pandora? Wait... wasn't that the demon etiquette? What was the ghost-summoning etiquette then? Also, could he even lend his power to someone else??? like, demons could, but could Danny???

"Who cares!" the man snapped, picking up the knife he had dropped next to him and slashing it at Danny. He didn't even have to think as he instinctively turned his right arm intangible and snatched the man's wrist, clenching it tightly to make him drop it. He was not going to let the man stab him again, thank you very much.

his core grumbled in annoyance, scattering his thoughts for a moment. What was he doing? his arm burned like it had been shot with an ecto blast, but that wasn't right, it was cut by-

Oh, right. cultists. Gotta deal with that.

Fazing the ropes off, Danny carefully stood up. An almost silent whine drew his attention up; it was the fuzzy figure, or now that Danny could actually see a little easier, Robin. Huh, looks like the bats actually made it after all. A little late to the party, but oh well.

Wait...

Shit, he didn't need the Bats up in all of his business. Especially since everything the ritual did to him was recorded, the ghostly stuff included. (Was Damian watching? Did he think Danny was dead now? a normal person would have died right?) He'd have to clear up any misinterpretations later, right now he has to focus on gaslighting the Fuck out of Batman and his partners.

Maybe he won't even have to deal with the Justice League if he pulls this off.

ok, what do they think the situation is? A Cult recording themselves sacrificing some random dude, the dude gets stabbed in the chest (probably assumed dead, he'll have to fix that...), then some ghostly shit happens, and the dude has glowing eyes... which basically lines up with the socially accepted symptoms of possession.

Cool, cool, cool. Danny'll just act like he's possessing himself then. No need to make it weird. Or reveal that he's a halfa.

...

How the fuck was a ghost king, who for all intents and purposes, knows nothing about mortal life, supposed to act when possessing a random body????? does he call it his body?? vessel? homing beacon?

"-leas me this intance! I summoned you, you listen to me! ME! I summoned you. Therefore, you have to do as I say!" the leader's voice broke through Danny's thoughts, bringing him back to the present. Again. Man, he seriously needs to get his shit together. Maybe it was the blood loss, they had cut him pretty badly earlier...

Sighing, which hurt a lot actually... he should probably fix that. Mentally shrugging, Danny allowed his ectoplasm to heal his wounds, which in turn settled his core a lot more than he expected. Maybe he shouldn't suppress it so much in the future... OR he should, and just not allow himself to be used in other rituals. Yeah, that's probably it. Man, he's going to have to talk with Frostbite after this is all over.

"You know nothing of which you speak, mortal," Danny grumbled, turning slowly to examine the warehouse. The bats had been fast, or Danny was just really out of it, because not only were all the cultists knocked out but the other hostages were gone.

"I know enough!" the man screeched, hitting his free fist against Danny's arm in an attempt to get Danny to release him. The only thing that was going to do was leave a bruise. Robin growled almost silently in response, which was weird. Why would Robin be upset about this man hitting Danny? or was he more upset along the lines of believing the random "hostage" Danny is "possessing" being hurt?

Yeah, that was probably it. All right, time to act all Ghost Kingly or whatever. If he was about to do something stupid then Clockwork would intervene. Since he hasn't so far, Danny was taking this as the old man giving his permission to proceed.

"Stop bruising my new favorite vessel, or I'll show you why it's a bad idea to mess with the dead." Danny hissed, pulling the man up so they were eye to eye. (it wasn't that hard, considering Danny was short as fuck. Who knew dying would stunt your growth?)

The man leaned back, his eyes wide in fear. His face turned green, or was that just the light from Danny's eyes? how bright were they glowing???

Oh, right, old ghost king, you need to focus here Danny.

Rolling his eyes, Danny harshly (not as hard as he could have though, even if he wanted to punt the man into the sun) tossed the man out of the circle and toward Robin. Nightwing, who Danny had just noticed was also there, quickly rushed over and wrangled the man over to the pile of cultists and tied him up.

"Your vessel," Batman grunted, stepping up to stand next to Robin. (Danny wasn't sure when, but Robin had left the circle. Which meant they probably had someone with magic experience telling them what to do now.)

"Yes, mine," Danny huffed, slowly turning to study the broken windows. his head was killing him, like four migraines stuffed into one killing him...

Do they not know how to use a door? Like, how often do they break through windows? Like, sure, it probably saves them a few extra seconds during a fight, but seriously? Do they at least pay the owners back for the property damage?

"He's not yours," Robin hissed, unsheathing his katana. Batman rested his hand on his shoulder, likely to warn Robin from doing something stupid.

Lifting his brow, Danny glanced down at his body. Did Robin know him? Or was he really just that protective of the people in his city? Even though Danny wasn't technically a Gothamite? He remembered Damian telling him at one point that if he was ever in trouble, the bats would save him. Hmm, yeah, probably just very protective of the people in their city then.

Danny was the same way when he was Phantom; those tourists might not be native Amity Parkers, but they were his tourists. So back off, ghost number 700 of the week. Or something along those lines.

Yeah, that's probably it.

"He," oh wow, speaking about himself was so weird, "was used as a sacrifice to summon me, which makes him mine." Ignoring the fact that his body belonged to him beforehand because, again, this is his body, but you know, can't tell them that. Also, even if this was someone else's body, it'd technically be Danny's. Look, being the ghost king meant Danny owned a lot of weird things, one of those being literally anyone's dead body. (He refused to think about the fact that Pariah had technically owned his body.)

Glancing up, Danny watched as Batman tightened his grip on Robin's shoulder. "Release his body at once, you lowly demonic pit waste! His body-"

"OK!" Nightwing cut in, clapping his hands. "How about this," he glanced at Robin and then back at Danny, clearly nervous about Robin's outburst. Also, what the hell was pit waste? Like, obviously Robin was insulting him, but he could have at least used an insult Danny would understand.

Also, why was Robin insulting a supposedly all-powerful king of the dead? Wasn't he supposed to be one of the more rational vigilantes? Maybe he just got emotional when he thought he failed to protect someone? Which is completely understandable, Danny did not react well when he failed to keep someone safe.

"We apologize for any wrongdoing Robin's words have caused. You willingly go back to your realm, leave your vessel's body behind, and we" he gestured at himself and the other two, "don't get other magic users involved? how does that sound?"

"Is that a threat?" because seriously, that sounded exactly like a threat. Did they seriously not know how to talk to other dimensional beings? Shouldn't they, as Justice League members, know how to diplomatically converse with others? Especially ones that could kill them with a glance? (like, Danny obviously wouldn't do that, but come on!)

His core stuttered again, drawing his attention to the fact that Danny was running out of power to keep up whatever transformation he'd taken on. Which was weird because he's obviously not in his ghost form, so why was it so draining??? And there's plenty of ectoplasm in the air, so, like, this was just ridiculous.

"Whatever," Danny huffed, looking down to study the circle as Nightwing started waving his hands in denial. "I already healed the vessel, he'll technically live." He could feel the pull it had on his core, which meant he had no idea what would happen once it was broken. Would he feel the same things he felt earlier? or would it just be like letting go of someone's hand?

Man, he was too tired for this crap. He wanted to go home and sleep. maybe steel his boyfriend's hoodie and cuddle with Cujo.

You know what? Danny didn't care, he should just break the circle and act like nothing happened. Yep, that's the plan. Still, he should probably prepare for if something goes wrong, you know, like passing out.

Carefully, both because the world was still kind of spinning around him, and to keep the bats from reacting badly, Danny made his way to stand in front of the Vigilantes. They should have quick reflexes; if he passes out, they should be able to catch him, right?

Without warning, Danny dragged his shoe over the line and broke the circle. Immediately his core hissed and all of his energy disappeared. Crumpling forward, Danny barely processed the sight of Robin's panicked lunge to catch him before everything turned dark and his body felt on fire.

Next?

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vrystalius · 3 months ago

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Sanemi still dreams of you.

Even after your death, he still believes wholeheartedly that you’re going to walk right through the door and give him a warm hug.

Whumptober prompt: Hallucination.

Pairing: Sanemi x deceased!gn!reader

(Mentioning of Sanemi slashing himself more frequently)

Your things are all still in place. He didn’t dare to touch or move a single thing, leaving everything as is. Sanemi can’t look at them though, he can barely stand being in his now emptier residence. You used to share a daily routine together. You two cuddled in bed in the mornings, fought over who gets to use the mirror in the bathroom, started your mornings together in the shower, made some burnt breakfast and head off to training and missions. Then, in the evenings, you’d help him undress while he helped you. His large palms would massage sore spots on your body while you lay your pretty head in his chest. His night would end with you in his arms, but now, he hasn’t slept in his own bed for a month now.

Sanemi is taking on every night patrol, every mission and every training session just to not think about you, for even a moment. If he does, he will break down, and he can’t afford that right now. Not while the war against demons is more heated than ever. Today was the first time in days he allowed himself to return to his residence, his heavy footsteps the only sounds filing the hallways. He was slightly hunched over, the dark circles beneath his eyes darker and deeper than the abyss. Sanemi stood in front of his bedroom. His hand slowly slid the paper door aside, revealing the bedroom. It was messy, the bed was undone, some of your clothes still laying around. His tried eyes focused onto anything in the dark. He rubbed his eyes slightly and groaned loudly, throwing his sheathed katana carelessly aside. Sanemi threw himself onto his side of the bed while still being fully clothes. He kicked his sandals off and rolled over, wanting to stare at your side for a while.

But as he rolled over, his soul almost left his body.

You were just laying there without a care in the world, your back towards him. Your chest was slowly moving as if you’re breathing and in a deep sleep. A deep sleep and not dead. Did he just wake up from a nightmare? Was your death some stupid dream? Seeing your body in Shinobu’s clinic, all wrapped up in blood-soaked bandages, some breathing tubes stuffed inside your throat and your face unrecognisable. The demon that killed you slashed you completely apart and it ruined Sanemi’s good memories of you. Now, whenever he tries to remember the good times, all he can see is your slashed, bloody, ripped apart body. But there you are, peacefully sleeping next to him. His hand was incredibly shaky as he reached out to you, his fingers so carefully brushing through your beautiful hair. He felt it beneath his fingertips. It was just like he remembered…

His breathed hitched and Sanemi scooted closer, grabbing your face harshly and yanking you over to face him. His eyes were horrified and yet had a hopeful shine to them.

“Hey- ouch. What are you doing? I was asleep…”

You looked up at him with an annoyed and tired expression. Your warm hand wrapped around his bandaged forearms while his grip got tighter. He moved your head side to side, inspecting all your features. His jaw clenched shut and tears started forming on the edge of his bloodshot eyes.

“Hun? You’re… here?”

Tears fell down onto your face from Sanemi’s as you blinked harshly, pushing him back onto his side of the bed. You pouted at him.

“Lemme sleep Nemi, I’m tired okay? Besides, take your uniform off, you’re dirtying the bed.

He watched as you buried your face in your pillow and threw the sheets over your body. Sanemi nodded franticly while he practically ripped his uniform off his body and threw it off the bed, obeying you.

“Yeah, yeah. L-Let’s- uh. Let’s talk tomorrow mornin’. I-I missed ya, y-you know? Hah.”

He smiled brightly and scooted closer to you. For a moment, he hesitated before finally wrapping his arms slowly around your body. His face was nuzzled into your neck, inhaling your addicting scent he missed for so long. You were always a perfect fit against his body, the perfect little spoon. You always warmed him right back off when he’s freezing. Sanemi grinned as he remembered how you always complained about his cold body jumpscaring you in the middle of the night, but right now, you’re quiet. Probably fallen right back asleep, he thought. He pressed one last kiss onto your neck before making himself comfortable being pressed against your body. Your cold body, Samemi noted, but don’t worry, he’ll warm you right back up.

The morning came faster than he thought, but after opening his eyes, you were nowhere to be found. His face was tightly pressed up against one of your pillows, a little bit of drool staining it. After wiping his mouth and dragging himself out of bed, Sanemi frantically began searching for you. You’re probably just in the kitchen, or in the shower, or already training! But after running around like a maniac, searching for any evidence of your presence, he finally broke down in one of the hallways. He let himself fall onto the tatami floors and buried his face in his knees. Sanemi started hitting his head against his bones, harder and harder, loud sobs echoing through the hallways and heavy tears running down his cheeks. He used his bandages as a tissue now that that Sanemi collected so many of them. He got more careless during fights, slashing his own flesh more and more as a way to let out suppressed grief. Shinobu warned him multiple times that he may hit a major artery if he continues to do this or bleed out during battle, but frankly, he can’t care less anymore.

He just wants you, damnit. He wants you back, he needs you back. Last night was some kind of joke his mind was playing, making him think you were never dead. Stupid, fucking stupid. He should’ve known. He should’ve known that cuddling you again was too good to be true. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The wind hashira laid in the same spot, in the empty hallway, for hours. Still undressed like you told him to do to not dirty the bed, curled up into a fetus position.

Now, his wails have quieted down, being replaced by silent tears and an even more silent mind. No thoughts, no needs, no desires, no nothing. Just pure, agonising grief.

🎃

I’ll be giving my Sanemi plushie some extra love tonight as compensation.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough <33

Take care of yourselves!!

Here are the lists of prompts you can request:

Flufftober (fluff)

Fictober (fluff, angst)

Whumptober (angst)

#💠 house of vry 💠#💠vry’s events💠#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #fluff #demon slayer hashira #sanemi x reader #sanemi x you #demon slayer sanemi #sanemi angst #sanemi shinaguzawa #kny sanemi #sanemi #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x y/n

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biolumien · 7 months ago

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rooftop smoke

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader mentions of smoking wordcount: 1270

you weren’t drafted into the kaiju war effort because you were particularly strong or even because you were particularly good with handling a gun or a sword.

you’re a ballistics expert.

you’ve helped to perfect the rounds that izumo tech makes for guns, helped perfect missiles in the name of eradicating kaiju. you were hand-picked for the third division by mina ashiro herself, her thirst for revenge against kaiju rivaling your own.

you’d met soshiro hoshina through mina, too.

you remember him, at first. almost twitchy, a fresh-faced stranger to the third division, desperate to prove himself. the two of you had gotten along quite well—enough to share a strained kiss or two after a tough battle or two, initially—but the two of you had never talked about it for any longer than a faint touch of the lips, and you’d tasted something floral and fruity on his tongue, like he’d indulged in some kind of candy before he left to fight.

but you’d never talked about it at all beyond a quick well-wishing for his safety before he holstered the katanas at the back of his suit, and turned away to meet his destiny.

in the days after the fungal honju and yoju attack, you find yourself hanging out with hoshina—there’s an unspoken agreement, here—hoshina could have easily lost his life to kaiju no.8, which was still at large.

“fancy a smoke?” hoshina holds out the pack of cigarettes to you—it’s the kind you like specifically—a little too sweet for most people, with an underlying cloy of tar that gets most people.

“mm. when don’t i?” you say, taking the pack from him. “thought you didn’t. smoke, i mean. doesn’t it ruin your whole…” as you pull a cigarette from the pack, you gesture at him. “your whole image?”

he snickers, a peek of a fang showing at the corner of his mouth.

“i bought them for you,” he says. “lend me your ear for a moment, yeah?”

so that’s how you wind up on the rooftop with hoshina.

he’s staring daggers at the horizon, his jacket ever-so-slightly unzipped to reveal the hints of his collarbones. you definitely don’t stare, not even a little.

tokyo’s skyline is peaceful. quiet. there is still reconstruction to do after the previous honju attacks–but it’s quiet for now, with no kaiju in sight.

you flick open your lighter, snapping it several times to produce a small and unsteady flame. there’s a breeze, strong enough that the flame almost goes out, and hoshina leans forward to cup the flame in his palm, his crimson eyes peeking out for a moment.

“what’s with the intense expression?” you drawl, taking a long drag of your cigarette, letting a puff of smoke escape your lips. “mighty scary there, hoshina.”

hoshina’s usually all smiles—the cold kind that never reach his eyes, and this one is no different. he leans on his cheek, stares at you. he smirks.

“thinking about last night,” he says, the smile on his lips twisting the tone of his words. “might’ve said a few things here and there, y’know. to the newbies.”

you stare for a moment.

the newbies had gotten closer than you’d expected them to—you’d hardly gotten to know your fellow soldiers when you were inducted into the force, quite frankly—your skillset as a ballistics engineer kept you far and away from the majority of any grueling training, of seeing beloved companions being taken away in body bags.

“ah, i get it. you told the newbies they weren’t allowed to fraternize. and now you’re getting cold feet about all of this?” you guess, sharp wit as always. hoshina snorts, pushing back from the railing of the rooftop before stepping closer to you.

his bangs fall in front of his eyes, and in faint moonlight, you can see the faintest blemishes of his skin, where he might have scratched at his face too hard.

“you don’t want this?” hoshina’s voice is quiet.

“i’ve always been honest about what i want, soshiro,” you say. “just wondering if you know what you want.”

“what i want,” hoshina says. he sounds almost bitter as he looks away. “i want to be useful.” the pale column of his neck is something indeed.

“you’re vice captain of the third division,” you say. “and mina’s yet to reach her full potential. she’ll be climbing up there in the ranks, with you by her side.”

“using an obsolete method of kaiju slaying that hasn’t been useful for a century,” hoshina says, his placid demeanor belying bitter frustration underneath. he sighs for a moment. “i’m only useful in the sense that mina might still want something from me. without that, am i truly of use to anyone? am i any better than some toy you pick up for a little while, have your fun with, and then throw away?”

you take another drag of your cigarette, letting the smoke fill your lungs for a moment before you exhale upwards, careful not to get smoke in his face.

hoshina laughs.

“you’re useful to me,” you say. “a cliche line, i know. no romance behind it.”

hoshina watches you, the peek of crimson eyes turning almost bloodred in the faint light.

“useful,” he repeats. “to you.”

“got a problem with it, pretty boy?” you rasp, staring up at him.

his face is boyish when he leans in close, curious as his hand touches your face.

“mm. no,” hoshina says. “pretty boy?” he cocks his head. his thumb touches at your lower lip, right at the corner of your mouth where your cigarette hangs from your lip.

“that’s you,” you say. you lean into his touch subconsciously, chasing the callused touch of a palm that has held up the weight of the world. “if you want to be of use to someone, you can keep being of use to me. by promising you’ll come back alive, to me.”

you’re not the confessing type. you’re not. you’ve never talked about your feelings for soshiro hoshina besides admitting that you’ve had them once to yourself during a smoke break, when you pulled your cigarette from your lips and wished that hoshina was there to close the gap, to kiss you again like he meant it, instead of in a rushed, half-sloppy affair.

hoshina’s eyes consider yours for a moment–searching your gaze for something. his thumb on your bottom lip shifts up, and touches the corner of your mouth. he plucks the cigarette from your lips, and you stare up at him, embarrassingly entranced.

“you’d like that,” hoshina whispers, and then he takes a drag of the cigarette. the tip of the cigarette glows a brilliant orange-yellow, and you wonder if hoshina will make fun of you for staring, before he exhales, half-coughing. “ha. what i get for trying to look cool in front of you, huh?”

his smile is all fangs, barely reaching the cold crimson of his eyes.

you stare at his lips shamelessly, at the way they upturn.

“aren’t you going to kiss me?” hoshina asks.

“huh?”

you blink at him.

“i’ve decided what i want,” hoshina murmurs. “and all you have to do is take it.”

so you do. you pull him forward by the collar of his plain shirt, poking out from his jacket, and he falls against you, presses his lips to yours in a move that might be described as reverent. he tastes faintly of your sweet cigarettes, and you kiss him and kiss him until you hope you can plunge your hands into his chest, and rewrite his core so that he might live and breathe for you.

#kaiju no 8 #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #x reader #kn8 x reader #how it be

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hexologh · 1 year ago

Text

₊❏❜ ⋮CLAWS ⌒ Macaque and sunwukong having a S/O who is a ancient samurai... but also a powerful dragon, who is much more wiser and calmer then they are.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🎑 ╰┈➤ MACAQUE꒱

Let's be real this Mf be bragging to everyone he meets, oh what's that? Who is this attractive person right next to him? Believe it or not it's his S/O! That's right you better cower in fear, they'd destroy you with a swift cut of their katana! Who's better now, WUKONG ! ?

'Course, he'd love you unconditionally, though he doesn't understand how you have so much self control over your emotions, an enemy could be insulting you, boom! Macaque would kick them to where the beautiful light of your smile doesn't shine! No one shall even breathe the same air as you, NO ONE.

Being the smarter one he'd often ask you about stuff, literally the two of you could be at a mountain top chilling and having snacks, and he'd ask like; "Anyway, do you know why oranges name are oranges but carrot ain't?" You'd look at him with a blank expression as you calmly sip your tea, "Great question." Macaque waited for something but you said nothing else, Macaque opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off, "No." "Yes, ma'am."

Bro if you had a tail he'd be frantic, suggesting stuff you can do with your tail since it was spiky and big m, you could throw away enemies, choke them, choke him— I mean what?

You are much stronger than him, so please for the love of everything that is holy, protect this monkey with your life, he's been through enough.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🌄 ╰┈➤ SUN WUKONG ꒱

ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF, IN THE BATHROOM, OUTSIDE, INSIDE, ON THE PARK, ON THE BENCH, IN THE FOREST— ONE CHANCE, Bro is a simp for you ngl, he his just fawning over your outfit like; DAYUM ! ? The way you let the left sleeve of your Yukata fall down revealing your muscles, and chest that had bandages and scars, male or female he doesn't care, you cannot stop staring down, because let's be real, Where else is there to look at?

"Why are you wearing sunglasses inside?" You would ask looking down at him as Wukong let out a chuckle, "I like it because no one would know where you're looking at!" He said, you looked down at him as he was leaning towards you with a finger on his chin his face right in front of your chest, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, "Right.."

Please allow him to hug you in any given situation, you would be falling mid air and he'd be like, "Can we hug so it feels romantic?" C'mon he's been all alone stuck in that mountain, He's touch starved, Idk what to tell ya. 🤷‍♀️

He loves when you fight for him, what's that? He can protect himself? He might be the great sage but he's still a monkey! Yeah! Beat that guy till he knows that this "great sage" is yours only.

You wipe the blood of your enemy off your face looking down at the motionless body, how dare such a lowly creature lay it's dirty fingers on you and your lover, speaking of your lover, you then turn towards Wukong, "My Darling, are you hurt?" You shifted your tone softer as you looked at him as your hand crept onto his cheek, and with a straight face he tells you, "Step on me."

Oh.

Idk I was bored.

#lmk x y/n #y/n #slayallday #x reader #macaque x reader #sun wukong #lmk monkey king #monkey king x reader #lmk macaque #HEXOLOGH

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olailamajnoon · 18 days ago

Text

At Dick and Barbara's wedding:

Bruce: tears in his eyes but doesn't let it show (it's his son's WEDDING, when did Dick grow up? And how did it happen so fast?)

Damian: fidgety (he picks up on Bruce's mood real quick), starts analyzing who is carrying what weapon (he believes in being One Step Ahead)

Tim: stuffing himself with oysters ("man these things are good") and hacking into the wifi of three neighboring buildings (he needs something to do)

Cassandra and Stephanie: drinking too much champagne and dancing, possibly on the tables, wearing fancy matching tulle bridesmaid dresses

Clark: awkward but jolly, keeps adjusting his glasses, trying to figure out how to tell Lois without getting stabbed that the black lipstick is a bit Too Much, she looks like a mummy who is also a witch

Jason: anxiously prepping for best man speech, still can't believe he got picked, thought it would be Wally

Selina: smiling and milling around carelessly in a drop-dead gorgeous purple dress, she's already stolen Clark's pocket watch but intends to return it because he will probably just be nice about it which will make her feel bad

Dick and Barbara: completely engrossed in each other, holding hands and laughing

the Rains of Castamere starts playing...

Damian: takes out his katana, shouts "reveal yourselves!" and charges towards the couple to shield them with his body

Tim: pauses mid-oyster, sees Damian and raises him by taking out his grapple hook and swinging towards the shrimp instead

Bruce: *what is going on face* (he's never heard of Rains of Castamere), but gathers that Something is Going Down so signals Clark while preparing to remove his Batarangs

Clark: mildly confused, heading towards Bruce, already ready to unbutton his shirt

Dick: shouting "what the fuck who did this" while simultaneously trying to smile and play it off as some banter

Barbara: leaning over the wheelchair helpless and wheezing with laughter

Jason: edges closer to Dick to try to get between him and any threat, feeling guilty for hoping that things would escalate so he wouldn't have to do any public speaking

Steph and Cass: trying to look cool and also normal, debating to try and decide what level of astonishment is expected of them

Selina, humming and a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws while she digs her claws into the two girls' shoulders as they try to flee the scene of the crime

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nemesis-writer · 4 days ago

Text

Five Minutes (Chapter 1)

Masterlist No choice TW: Neglect, mentions of blood, mental illness

10 days later...

"So who is she?", Duke asks.

"She's a criminal now." Tim replies, he gets up just to drink a beer.

"No she isn't" Jason retorts.

"Then what is she?" Duke asks.

"She's a child, or should I say was a child", Jason interjects.

"She's just being temperamental and probably just throwing a tantrum." Damian jibes.

"She killed all yakuza leaders with a katana," Jason retorts.

"She's definitely not Bruce's child, because there's no way that Bruce could do that." Duke jokes.

"She is. I took a paternity test." Bruce replies.

"She's getting smarter and better. She was supposed to be in the fortress where we keep the people who are too mentally insane to go to Arkham." Cassandra adds.

"I checked the security cameras of all the places she's been in and she has the ability to manipulate a person in to doing her malicious acts. Must be why she's able to escape every time by using someone else for her bidding. " Tim reveals.

Asylum, 10/11/2017,

"Hello, my name is chief Lawson, FBI. I'm here to ask you where you hid the bodies."

"Rotting apples with wasps feasting. Brown bananas with flies retreating. A fox in the night is ripping black bin bags open. Cats are eating a chicken casket after Sunday dinner. A white owl is gobbling a slaughtered mouse, happy, sitting on the evening fence. The brown rat is running for the bushes after stealing bread. A giant cow jawbone is found in the dirty ground. The tired young man died on the motorway bridge and was found. Zombied humans are eating out of plastic bins. Death is everywhere! Take a look inside – don’t be ignorant about what you find." She sings but keeps her back faced to the FBI.

"You're not really helping here lady." Lawson said.

"It's in the song, but if you don't listen then I can't help you." Eurus said.

She starts to stand up and go towards the glass.

"Step forward and touch the glass officer." Eurus feints.

"No, you give me answers lady."

"Or what? You'll shoot me? This is bullet-proof glass sweetheart." Eurus replies, "I'll touch it if you want."

The officer steps forward and touches the glass on for her to grab his neck and choke him to death.

End of recording...

"Lawson was supposed to be one of the best FBI detectives." Bruce says.

"He was. She's evolving and the longer we let her evolve, the more people will die." Stephanie adds.

"Why would she do this?" Bruce wonders

10 years ago...

Love can come from many forms and languages. It follows the same rules with hate, negligence, toxicity, and jealousy. It may not be shown all in one go, so it will gradually grow until it could eat you alive whole. Let's list what each has demonstrated.

Unintentional negligence: Bruce proves as a simple embodiment of this action. He found you to be insignificant and mediocre. When really your true colours were just about to shine.

Negligence based on superiority: Dick has quite the experience in that area. He always thought that people would look up to him and he would be the role model of the family. He never meant for his negligence to go as far.

Love relying on sufferings: Jason truly knew how broken you were and wanted to fix it. It took him too long to realise that you may be able to fix and broken mirror, but it would never be as it was.

Hate relying on significance: Tim is the obvious answer since he never truly cared for you. Until now. He hated the fact on how you were so 'naive' and 'helpless', that you don't deserve to live like them.

Hate and jealousy based on blood: Since you were the child of a common whore, Damian thinks of you as a whore and never a Wayne. He has a perfect assassin of a mother and a rich vigilante for a father to add up. You on the other hand, have nothing, and are nothing to him.

Toxic and fake interest: All the girls, Cassandra, Barbara, and Stephanie has a bond with you. They pretend to be interested and all ears when they really plan to hurt you and shut you up. They'd do anything just for you to back off. It was never true with them.

Love of a sibling and of keen interest: Duke has always wanted a sister who was normal. So far he assumes that you're the closest thing to normal that wasn't as fake as Cassandra, talkative as Steph, or as busy as Barbara. He understands your pain and wants to be the sibling you never had.

Present...

Each had their own description of their 'bond' with you. But things have changed, they changed. Why wouldn't you wanna go home for them?

Don't you see how much they treasure you now?

Come home little robin.

A/N: I kinda like this chapter because I'm basing it off from the BBC Sherlock Holmes Series and I hope you'd like it!

Taglist

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e, @eyeless-kun, @errorunfound1, @gwyneveire, @alishii, @cxcillia

#yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere richard grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere barbara gordon #yandere tim wayne #gifs #assassin reader #psycho reader

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animehideout · 1 year ago

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Imagine choso and you are fighting (like battling) and then ur like, “don’t make me scare up that pretty little face” and choso like “you think I’m pretty 🥺”

Choso Kamo x Sorcerer¡Reader

a/n: Hey anon, thank you for this cute fluff request. I hope you like it ⑅˖⁠♡.

Fluff 🎀

You moved swiftly, your agility and skills gave you the upper hand to dodge all of Choso’s attacks. With your technique to summon weapons, your Katana blocked with graceful precision each arrow of blood directed to you, that was meant to pierce through your flesh.

Choso, your formidable enemy, a half-human and half-curse spirit that made him an interesting opponent. You’ve always been so curious about him and his blood manipulation technique and today was your lucky day, you finally got to grasp the chance and fight him face to face, and maybe show off your skills a bit, a bit of flaunting won’t hurt.

The air crackled with the impending clash as you circled each other. Your moves were too fast, Choso couldn’t keep up with you, once you were in front of him now you’re behind him. The way you easily twirled your weapons in your hands, as if they weight nothing made you look cool and Choso couldn’t contain his admiration, even though he was keeping a resting tired face, but from the inside he was impressed.

He stood there right in front of you, unexpectedly lifting his shirt up making your eyes widen, not only putting his perfect abs on display but also a marking on his abdomen, revealing his origin as a half-curse, as a death painting womb, making you more hooked and immersed in his nature.

“you’re quite the challenge little sorcerer, but let’s see if you can handle this” he threatened.

He lunged forward, manipulating the blood to surge forward in unpredictable patterns, attempting to take you off guard.

You moved just in time, stepping aside, avoiding the trajectory of blood arrow that was directed at you with deadly precision, your hair flowing behind you as you moved with an extraordinary speed.

You gasped as you saw a small piece of your hair on the ground.

“oh didn’t mean to give you a little trim”

“hah funny! You’ll have to do better than that if you want to leave an actual mark” you teased back.

Pissed that a small part of your precious hair was cut by him, you ran towards him, when he was ready to attack you, you flexibly descended to the ground. While poised in the lowered position, you extended one leg, sweeping it. Making Choso lose his balance, and fall on the ground, his back hitting the hard floor.

Still on the floor, you rose to you feet, summoning another weapon, a very sharp one. His eyes widened in shock, dumbfounded by your surprise attack, and how in a matter of seconds you took the upper hand and dominated him. You looked down at him, and pointed the blade to his face,

“Now, don’t make me scar up that pretty little face of yours” you started.

Choso couldn’t help but react with amusement, his wide eyes softened and you swear to god you can see stars in them,

“Aw, you think I’m pretty 🥺?”. he asked with puppy eyes.

Did he charm you by the way he was looking at you so innocently? Yes, he did. And you couldn’t do anything but stare with a mix of confusion and admiration.

“Uh-Wh-at?” you stuttered.

His playful words echoed in your ears, and then realization hit you, yes you actually think he’s pretty. A genuine smile crept on your lips, this battle with Choso was way more interesting that you expected it to be. You can’t help but be eager to know more about him.

“here’s the deal little sorcerer, let’s start over, if you succeed in leaving a small scratch on my ‘pretty’ face, I’ll take you out on a date.. how does that sound?”

“sounds wonderful to me” you replied.

This time giving it all of your best to leave a small cut on his face, so he can take you out on a date like he promised. On the other hand, Choso did let his guards down intentionally.

After this battle, you’re no longer enemies like you claimed to be.

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inkandtension · 7 days ago

Text

Blade and Blossom

samurai! Minho x runaway! Reader

The brothel was a mix of silk and sin, its perfumed air heavy with promises whispered into ears that were too willing to listen. Shadows danced along the walls, cast by the flicker of dim lanterns and the soft, swaying women who moved like spirits of the night.

Lady Itoh's brothel.

Minho walked in, his hand rested lightly on the hilt of his katana, its sheath worn from years of use but polished with care. The room hushed for a heartbeat, every pair of eyes drawn to the lone samurai.

The women started to flock him like petals on the wind, their decorated faces adorned with coy smiles. One, stepped forward, her kimono slipping just enough to reveal a teasing glimpse of her collarbone.

“Welcome, traveler,” she purred, her voice as smooth as aged sake. “You look weary. Let us take care of you tonight.”

Minho’s dark eyes met hers. “I’m not here for entertainment,” he said.

Another woman, draped in crimson silk, circled around him, her hand brushing against his arm. “Oh, but surely a strong warrior like you deserves to relax. Let me pour you a drink.”

He stepped aside smoothly, evading her touch like a blade slicing through water. “No need.”

Not giving up, the women pressed closer,

“Perhaps a dance?” “Or a song to ease your mind?” “Your shoulders look tense. I could massage them for you.”

Minho’s lips pressed into a thin line, his patience wearing thin. He moved toward a low table in the corner, his steps deliberate and measured. Sitting down, he set his katana beside him and folded his arms across his chest.

“I’m waiting for your lady, lady Itoh,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the room. “Until then, leave me be.”

The women exchanged glances, their smiles faltering for a moment before returning with renewed determination.

“Surely, you’ll change your mind,” one murmured, kneeling beside him. Her fingers ghosted over his forearm, but the icy glare he gave her stopped her cold.

“I said no.”

His tone held the weight of finality, and the room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of defeat. The women withdrew, though their eyes lingered, curious and intrigued by the man who had resisted their charms.

He was here for information. He will be there for that and that only.

The brothel buzzed with life that evening, the soft hum of music lacing the air. You stood in the shadowy hallway, your fingers clutching the thin strap of your bag. Your heart raced as the mistress's piercing gaze swept over you, a sly smile tugging at her painted lips.

“So, you’re the chief’s runaway little bird,” the mistress said, circling you with the languid grace of a predator. “Bold move coming here. But tell me, why should I take you in? This isn’t a sanctuary for wayward daughters.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet the mistress's gaze. “I have no place else to go,” you said, your voice steady despite the tremor in your chest. “I’ll do whatever it takes to stay.”

The mistress chuckled, low and sharp, like the glint of a blade in moonlight. “Whatever it takes, hmm?” She tapped a nail against her chin, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. With a swift gesture, she pointed toward the main room, where muffled laughter and clinking glasses spilled into the hallway.

“There’s a man in there,” the mistress said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “A samurai. Untouchable, uninterested. He’s a challenge no one here has conquered. If you can break his shell, earn his favor, you’ll have proven your worth. If not…” Her crimson lips curled into a smirk. “The streets are always waiting.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears as the weight of her challenge pressed down on you like a stone. But you refused to waver, nodding with determination.

The mistress clapped her hands sharply, summoning two attendants. “Good. Dress her in the best silks. She needs to make an impression.”

You were led away, your bag slipping from your fingers as the attendants began their work. The cheap fabric draped over your skin felt foreign, unlike those luxurious ones you would wear, almost suffocating, but you wore it like armor. Standing before the gilded doors to the room, you inhaled deeply, steeling yourself for the task ahead.

This was your chance. Your only chance.

You put some sleeping powder in the drink before entering. The soft rustle of your robes catches Minho’s attention as you step into the room. He sits cross-legged at a low table, his katana resting within arm’s reach. His sharp features are half-lit by the warm glow of a lantern, his expression unreadable.

You hesitate but gather yourself, approaching him with a graceful sway. “You look like a man with a lot on his mind,” you say softly, lowering yourself to kneel opposite him.

Minho glances at you briefly, his gaze flickering with disinterest. “I didn’t request company.”

You smile gently, pouring a cup of sake. “Sometimes company helps,” you offer, placing the drink in front of him.

“I prefer solitude,” Minho replies curtly, his tone laced with finality.

Your smile falters, but you persist. “I don’t mind being quiet,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll just sit here. You won’t even know I’m here.”

Minho exhales, shaking his head. “I don’t need any female attention.”

Your heart sinks, but you steady yourself, your hands trembling slightly as you reach for the sake bottle again. You pour him another drink, your movements slow and deliberate. “Just a sip,” you urge softly.

Minho’s gaze sharpens as he takes the cup, lifting it to his lips. He hesitates, the faintest glimmer of recognition flickering in his mind. Your face… it looks familiar.

The missing posters outside the brothel flash in his memory. The runaway daughter of the respected chief, a drawing. A “beauty unlike any other,” they had said.

If you’re her, then you probably drugged him. He takes a sip but only lets the liquid touch his lips, setting the cup down.

Your voice cuts through his thoughts. “Please, drink more,” you urge, leaning forward. “I can help you relax.”

Your insistence tips him off. Minho’s hand tightens on the hilt of his knife, his senses on high alert. When you offer to bring the cup to his lips yourself, your hands shaking as you reach for his, he acts.

In one swift motion, he pushes the table aside, the sound of it hitting the wall filling the room. He grabs your wrist, yanking you closer. His knife glints in the low light as he presses it against your neck.

“Who are you?” he asks coldly, his voice low and dangerous. “What is a maiden like you doing in a place like this?”

You freeze, your heart racing as the blade presses against your skin. “I… I’m just a woman working at the brothel,” you stammer, your voice trembling.

Minho’s grip tightens, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t lie to me. You’re the chief’s daughter, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” you gasp, your voice rising as the blade presses closer. Your breathing quickens, and the sound carries through the thin walls.

The women outside hear the commotion, their laughter and chatter fading into silence. One by one, they begin to gather near the room, murmuring.

The muffled gasps and faint rustle of movement from inside the room sent waves of excitement through the women gathered outside.

“He must’ve finally caved,” one of them whispered, a sly grin spreading across her lips.

“No way,” another said, folding her arms. “The samurai? Giving in to someone? I don’t believe it.”

“You heard her,” a third chimed in. “That’s not the sound of someone getting turned away. I bet he’s good at it.”

They huddled closer to the door, giggling and murmuring amongst themselves, eager to catch a glimpse of what they thought was a momentous event: the untouchable samurai finally giving in to a woman.

“I bet she’s got him wrapped around her finger already,” one of the women said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Good for her,” another added. “We’ve been trying for hours!”

“If she really managed to get him to open up, maybe we should ask her for tips,” someone else joked, eliciting a round of laughter.

Minho’s piercing gaze doesn’t waver, his grip tight on you.

“If you scream,” he warns, his voice a dangerous whisper, “I’ll make sure you never leave this place alive.”

You gasp again, the sound loud enough to draw a few knocks at the door. Minho’s eyes flick toward the noise, his expression hardening.

“Answer carefully,” he says, his tone deadly. “What are you really doing here?”

The sound of stifled giggles from outside the room interrupts him. His jaw tightens. He glances toward the door briefly before returning his attention to you. “They think I’ve fallen for your act,” he mutters, his tone dripping with disdain.

Your lips part, but no words come out. Your pulse thunders in your ears as Minho leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“You’ve caused quite a scene,” he says, his tone almost mocking. “Tell me, should I let them believe their little fantasy? Or should I drag you out there and let them see the truth?”

Your breath hitches, your panic growing. “I… I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I swear.”

“And yet, here we are,” Minho says coldly, his grip on your wrist unyielding. You let your voice soften, desperation lacing your words. “Please… I’ll do whatever you want. Just… let go of the knife.”

Minho’s eyes flicker, but his expression remains hard. Slowly, he eases the blade away from your neck, though his grip on your wrist doesn’t loosen.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he warns.

Minho’s lips curl into a humorless smirk. “That’s your story, is it? A chief’s daughter, running away from her gilded cage, hiding here among courtesans?”

Your pulse pounds in your ears. His words are too close to the truth, and your silence only deepens the tension between you.

“Still not talking?” he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. He leans in closer, his dark eyes searching yours. “What are you afraid of? That your father will find out you’ve been hiding in a place like this? Or that I’ll drag you back myself?”

Your breath hitches, your voice shaking. “I’m not afraid of you.”

A low chuckle escapes him, “Brave words, for someone trembling in my arms.”

You flinch, and your hands press harder against his chest, but it only makes him more aware of you. His gaze flickers, lingering on your lips for the briefest moment before snapping back to your eyes.

“What’s your game?” he asks, his tone quieter now, but no less menacing. “Why did you drug me?”

“I wasn’t trying to drug you!” you interject quickly, your voice earnest.

His eyes narrow. “Lying again? That drink reeked of sleeping powder.”

You bite your lip, realizing he’s seen right through you. “I didn’t have a choice,” you admit quietly.

Minho releases your wrist abruptly, standing up. His towering presence looms over you as he sheaths his blade.

“If you think you’re clever enough to manipulate me, think again,” he says, his voice sharp.

Then, with deliberate slowness, he lowers the blade, though his grip on your waist remains.

“Tell me why you’re really here,” he demands. “And don’t even think about lying again.”

You hesitate, your lips parting as if to speak, but no words come out.

“You have until the count of three,” Minho warns, his voice a deadly whisper.

“One.”

“Two.”

Your breaths come shallow and quick, your mind racing for an answer that might save you.

“Thr—”

“I ran away,” you blurt out, cutting him off. Your voice is trembling, but your gaze holds his, defiant despite your fear. “I ran away from my father. From a life I didn’t want, from a stupid marriage with an old man who wants my teeth blackened later. That’s the truth.”

Minho’s eyes narrow, his grip on your waist loosening slightly. He studies you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he releases you entirely, taking a step back.

“You’re reckless,” he says coldly, sheathing his knife. “Hiding in a place like this. Do you have any idea how much danger you’ve put yourself in?”

Your legs feel unsteady, but you straighten, your voice firmer now. “I can take care of myself.”

Minho scoffs, his gaze flickering with a mix of irritation and something softer, something almost like admiration. “You’ve got a lot to learn.”

He turns toward the door, pausing just before stepping out. “And stay out of my way. Next time, I won’t be so forgiving.”

He pauses again, hearing the women outside giggling. With a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, he glances back at you.

“Let them believe whatever they want,” he says. “You’ll regret it more than I will.”

#skz #stray kids #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz scenarios #fics #lee know #skz lee know #lee minho #skz Lee minho #lee know x reader #lee know samurai

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nightwngz · 10 months ago

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Part 2 of older pls 🙏

YOUNG !

damian wayne x fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. . . drabble smut. porn without plot. dirty talk and fingering.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲. . . I'm so happy to give you all a part two of the first one shot I posted on this blog. Hope you like it. <3

Damian was the youngest of the family. He had grown up, but everyone still made jokes or references to being the youngest. You had the idea to join in the joke and he didn't like it. Now you were a victim of the consequences of teasing him.

He sharpened his katana from the comfortable chair in the room. He looked dangerous, not so much because he had a sharp weapon in his hands, but because of that look he always had, capable of destroying anyone.

— Are you here to continue telling jokes? — he asked.

You wondered how he could sense your presence in the vast room when your back was turned and you had not made any sound that would reveal your presence.

— I came to apologize.

He turned to look at you. Deep down, you had the idea that he knew you were only apologizing to get something from him and not so much because you were interested in keeping your relationship peaceful.

— I listen.

You walked a few steps further into the room. It was almost dark, and the sun was barely shining through the curtains, so your whole room looked almost dark.

You looked at him with an expression of redemption. Damian thought it was that victim look he always saw you with. Like a helpless little animal longing for warmth.

— I was wrong to make that joke about you, and I'm really sorry, but Damian... I need you. — You said, but were interrupted when you noticed that he had pulled you onto his hips and placed you on his lap.

He made you turn your neck until you could meet his intense green eyes. His breath collided with your face and his hands ran down your thighs until he carefully lifted your skirt, revealing your underwear.

— It was the only thing I wanted to hear, beloved.

His hands ripped off your panties in one fell swoop, leaving you with nothing to protect yourself. Even though your skirt was still on, you could feel your pussy rubbing against the scratchy fabric of his jeans.

He moved closer to you, so close that your lips could almost brush against his. He had never kissed you before, so you couldn't help but think that this was something special.

His finger slid through every crease of your already wet pussy. He sank into your wetness, sliding in as he tried to stroke you. Without thinking, he squeezed your clit, causing you to jump up and down on his lap from the shock.

— Do you like it? — he asked quietly. — Do you know how easy it was? I can make you feel so good. It's easy for me to reward those who behave.

You began to moan in his ear. It was the most beautiful sound Damian had ever heard. No matter that you were someone who liked to participate in his brothers' pranks, having you like this made him feel full.

He kissed your lips. You would never have thought that Damian's way of kissing would be so passionate and romantic, as if he was protecting you from all the evils of the world with a simple kiss. Suddenly, everything intensified and he began to take your lips with such force that it seemed he loved and hated you at the same time.

His fingers caressed your hole with barely perceptible delicacy. Going to the most pleasurable place inside you, stroking that spot inside you that could make you delirious with pleasure.

— Your apology is worthless. — He said. — You don't want to apologize to me, you just want this from me. But I have been too mean to you lately, don't you think, my beloved?

#dc comics #dc universe #damian wayne #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne smut #smut #batboys

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nosyrobin · 3 months ago

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Inosuke!reader face reveal lol

BATBOYS/BATFAM’S REACTION TO INOSUKE!READER’S FACE REVEAL:

Your face got exposed when you were trying to fight a villain that was a super one. Not caring at least the slightest, you ran into danger. Doing anything you can with your Dual Serrated Nichirin Katanas. The boys were watching intensely, not knowing when to jump in as it seemed you handle yourself perfectly. But as the supervillain blasted you, smoke covers the scene. Batman gave the signal and the boys go to save you, worried about your safety.

But when they only saw the boar head and not your body, Jason was about to go back to his old ways and start killing as he cocked his gun while dick and Tim searched the area for you. Damian was about to join the second eldest until they heard your familiar laughter.

“NEHHEHE!”

That’s when the supervillain is on the ground, shaking as you stomped on their ribs.

“Haha! I won! I won! I’m stronger than you…uh what’s your name?” You asked, crouching down with knitted brows. The Villain felt disturbed in your presence.

“(Random villain name)” you laughed before saying the name wrong anyways. Sparkly emit from your body. The boys and Batman were shocked to see you standing still. The only problem was that your back was faced towards them. Your back muscles flexing every laugh you exit from your mouth. You tied up the villain who just laid there frowning, frowning how they’ve gotten beaten by a random board head.

As you finished tying up the foe and put your katanas back to their places, the youngest ones hugged you. Surprising you as you started to tweak out in their hold. Like a wild cat wanting to be put down as the two eldest let out a breath of relief. Batman also did too, dropping down like the badddd man he is.

That’s when you turned around that silence was even loud itself. All the boys just stared shocked at your face. Your face….was so beautiful.

“HOW IN THE WORLD—”

“Are you an angel perhaps?”

“I never expected your face to look like that.”

“Well I’m surprised.”

Lastly Bruce stayed silent, to which you noticed as the boys also stayed quiet.

“…..” Batman stayed quiet before patting your head. Only glad to see you were okay. The Batmobile was called in, and you relaxed while the boys kept staring at your angelic face.

“You should keep the boar head off, and maybe you will actually attract people you like.” Damian says, being a little shady but truthful as you just scrunch your face at him.

“No! I don’t listen to Demetri!” Saying with a huff as you put on your boar head.

The boys groaned, leaving Bruce to just laugh to himself.

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saioratral · 2 months ago

Text

god - cult activities come to an end (gn! reader) warning - cult activities, fake religion, manipulation, non-con (forced touching/kiss), light self-harm topics and death (please keep yourself safe and do not read if you're uncomfortable!) note - from my old blog

what is the true definition of god? a deity with powers beyond human comprehension. a timeless source of all creations and a presence to which all souls inevitably return. that’s the title given to [name][last name]

from your first words to your first steps, you were destined to be ‘god’. your family craved power leading to them creating a false cult with followers who would kiss the ground you walked on. you were seen as a gifted being, the purest form of life, tucked away from the prying eyes of the potential corrupters of the world

you hated it. every day felt like a hell of a show. you weren’t given any freedom and were constantly exploited for your family’s selfish acts. your body and soul were trapped behind a simple curtain as your ‘followers’ bowed before your throne, chanting your name fervently. you were adorned by the finest clothes and jewellery, sitting high and mighty listening to the concerns of your ‘followers’

you glanced over to your family who proudly stood beside you. no amount of pleading eyes would set you free from the world they created. you locked eyes with your younger brother who sent you a wicked smile. shivering, you turned back to the problems the followers were spinning about.

“now it’s time for our god’s blessing”

your father announced loudly and the room roared in cheers. praises left and right, you were once again in the spotlight as your followers chanted for you. you shaky reached your kimono and slowly undid it. this was something you hated. greedy eyes watch you pull your kimono down, just enough to expose your left shoulder. you felt disgusted, almost like an object bought for people to stare at. a property of your family with no voice of your own.

against your will, your mother instructed each of the followers to kiss your left shoulder for a longer life. one by one, their sloppy mouths tainted your shoulder. you closed your eyes and turned your head to the right, wishing and hoping someone could hear your prayers for being freed. you wanted this torture to end.

and your prayers were answered. the door burst open, revealing none other than yuuta okkotsu, a special-grade sorcerer from jujutsu tech. you’ve heard stories of someone as strong as the gojo satoru. there he stood, not too far from you. your father quickly tugged your arm and pushed you out of the hall. looking back, you see the rest of the family running away in different directions. none daring to reach for you. it was clear—yuuta was here for everyone, yet nobody seemed concerned about you.

drawing his katana and summoning rika, yuuta turned the hall into a bloodbath. one by one, your followers' desperate cries echoed into your ears as you pulled yourself into one of the chambers. you couldn’t even reach the bed before collapsing on the floor. it wouldn’t be long before yuuta managed to remove almost everyone. he cursed himself for letting your family run away from his grasp. now he had to find the ‘god’. he didn’t have to search much

he entered a chamber and saw you lying on the floor. he stood there and examined you. you looked pale, almost like you hadn’t eaten in days. just what type of cult was this? you weakly cranked your head to see the sorcerer stand at the door

“you’re here to kill me aren’t you?”, you asked

your eyes were dull almost like you had no energy or will to fight back. the twisted cult made you their prisoner, their so-called ‘deity’. your voice lacked any hint of fear, just mere acceptance of your situation. yuuta’s heart ached, pity written all over his face

“don’t pity me sorcerer”, you murmured with a dry laugh

yuuta gripped his sword tighter and stared at you, a person broken and used. he could feel anger rising, you deserved better, not whatever freak show this place ran. he approached you closer and bent down to sit on the ground beside you

“can i lay my head on your lap? that’s my last request before dying… i've never felt loved or cared for. i just want to be comforted before i die”

yuuta gulped heavily and swore his heart had stopped for a minute. he had never been asked such an odd request. he complies, pulling you closer to him and gently placing your head, cradling you as if you were made of glass. you felt tears well up in your eyes from his gentle touches, it almost felt like feathers swiping past your face

“you’re pretty handsome up close”, you remarked, a faint smile touching your lips.

yuuta looked down and blushed at your words. were you always this blunt? no, not really. you always spoke carefully and most of your words would have been rehearsed beforehand by your family. yet here you were, acting like a complete high school girl fawning over her crush

“you’re not going to let me hear you?”, you whispered

you slowly brought your hand up to touch his face. you couldn’t believe you’d be spending your last few breaths with a stranger who was your so-called ‘enemy’. yuuta didn’t utter a word nor did he deny your touches. he let you express your final desires, contemplating on what to do with you

“i don’t want to kill you”, yuuta spoke

“i can save you! just come with me and you can join the juj-”

you silenced the boy by lifting your head from his lap, capturing his lips in a hungry kiss. desperation coated your thoughts, and your hands roamed over his chest, tracing the shapes of his hidden muscles. yuuta hesitated but then surrendered to the kiss, tasting the salty remnants of your tears. a soft moan escaped him as you gently sucked on his lower lip, seeking deeper contact. entranced by your soft lips, he failed to see the flags his body was alarming

keeping him distracted, your fingers subtly moved towards his katana, pulling it closer. the weapon’s cold steel against your skin contrasted sharply with the heat of the moment. you deepened the kiss, feeling yuuta responding, as if he were drunk. you broke the kiss to catch your breath and you watched yuuta panting hard, almost like you knocked the breath out of his lungs

“you’re too handsome to spout nonsense you know?”

this was what you had always craved—a moment of connection, however brief, with someone who could see you as more than just a 'god.' with that you pulled him in for another kiss, poisoned by the adrenaline rush yuuta gave you. no second thoughts, you drew his katana and swung it, a sharp and clean blow on your neck. yuuta opened his eyes in horror, breaking the kiss seeing you dead. yet you looked so satisfied. content that you were finally freed

“i kissed a curse and now a dead person.. and it had to be a french kiss”, yuuta groaned pulling your still body closer to his chest, lips messed up by your lipstick

© saioratral 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images used are from pinterest

#yuta okkotsu #jujutsu kaisen x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #yuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk fanfic #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #yuuta okkotsu #jujutsu yuta #okkotsu yuuta #ᡣsaioratral⋆˙୧⍤⃝

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