#any more than that and youre setting yourself up to be a sacrificial lamb

[cirie-won-thirty-four]

Having a meat shield is a solid strategy but at a certain point, a strong 5 person alliance is a strong 5 person alliance, you have to ask yourself ‘am I bringing meat shields to post merge or am I protecting an alliance that will run the game if left unbroken?’ Haley and Nina have to recognize that they are at the bottom of the meat tray and bringing ALL FOUR OF THEM to merge is about the dumbest thing you can do! If I were them I would simply have flipped!

[uhzuku]

╰─▸ ❝ 𝐇𝐄’𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 ( 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 ). ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: His eyes are hooded, dark with a venomous lust that used to frighten you — but you aren’t the shy lamb sent to slaughter that you once were, are you?

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: jujutsu kaisen | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ryomen sukuna/f!reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 3.49k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: concubine reader, demon king sukuna, sacrificial lamb x vicious monster trope, fem reader, manipulative reader, canon-typical violence, background character death, reader got a death grip on sukuna w the pussy ngl, breeding kink, fingering, sukuna has two cocks bc duh?, throne sex, cowgirl, no condoms, double penetration, accidental voyeurism, minor exhibitionism, creampies, biting, kissing, pregnancy mentions, murder, blood, gore, didn’t think i’d have to say this verbatim ( but after wasted summer ig i must ) but reader isn’t a good person.

𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: he is so so mean and yet … here i am wanting his balls in my mouth 😔✊

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

The stone flooring is cold against your bare feet, icy and sharp in ways that you used to be able to say you were unused to — but after a handful of years as your lord’s most desired concubine, you’d grown more than used to the endless chill of stone against your soles. 

Only a few short years ago you’d been sent into the mountains to the dusky temple of the demon lord Ryomen Sukuna, a toy for him to fuck then eventually rip apart as soon as he grew bored of you. Bound by the wrists with ropes that had scarred, you were dragged up the mountainside and thrown upon a vast stone table, bound yet again with your hands tugged over your head and your legs spread to opposing corners. Your inner thighs had each been granted one deep slash so blood would begin to flow, and then you had been abandoned there. Alone and in tears, night had fallen faster than you’d been found, and you’d almost felt frozen and delirious when the first shadows of a monstrous figure had caught your eyes. 

He had been a terrifying monster, sporting a vast mouth on his abdomen, two sets of eyes, four arms, and two pairs of legs all connected to a towering frame — all things normally singular about the human form had been doubled, and the owner of such a body had slunk over to you all while salivating. At first you’d feared he’d molest you, then you feared being devoured — but he’d mocked you cruelly and cut you loose before dragging you along behind him by the rope binding your wrists with your slit thighs screaming, your journey ending with him casting you at a half dozen women you later learned to be his concubines, and you’d not left his great stone temple in the mountains ever since. On the contrary, your life had become much easier — you led a life of luxury nestled comfortably on your knees atop a plush pillow next to your lord’s hip, you followed wherever he led you to go, and you warmed his bed and his cock whenever he so chose — which was often. 

Today was one such day, and you desired nothing more than to ready yourself to see the man who clung to you as if he were starved and you were a magicked feast. 

“Off to see the King again?” one of the other concubines, Ino, asks snidely as you loosely drape chains of delicate gold over your skin, and you sigh. Ino always started fights whenever she saw the chance, and you were more than tired of it. Still, a verbal spar was nothing for the King to sneeze at, so he wouldn’t make any attempts to stop it; some days he even found the arguments amusing. 

“Must I really answer your question?” You ask tiredly. “He has called for me—“

“As he does every day,” another concubine, Shouko, snaps. “He never calls upon us anymore, not like you.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” you snap back, and in response the bane of your existence stomps forward, smelling of the honeysuckle and melons that grew along the mountainside where you all resided. 

“Maybe if you’d not come here and thrown yourself at him like a common whore, we wouldn’t be in this predicament,” Inko, Ino’s elder sister, snarls aggressively. Her eyes are dark and stormy, and her voice low and angry like a startled rattlesnake. “We all had a proper system before you came and ruined everything — but that’s all you know how to do, isn’t it? Traipsing in here practically naked from your first day and swallowing his cock down like it was what you were born for, then even daring to take away my night as well as Komori’s the following day.” Komori was another concubine, one nearly as bitter as Inko; she, however, chose to ruin what few of your belongings she could rather than spar with you verbally.

It was always the same with them — always angry that your lord doted on you more than the others, that he cooed at you so fondly while growls were occasionally sent their way ( growls you’d never received ), and that jewels and silks were lain reverently across your soft skin as rewards for earning his affections. “Maybe he likes me better for a reason, Inko,” you say coldly, standing your ground. “Maybe he isn’t calling upon you anymore because he’s realized how much of a surly bully you are — or maybe he’s grown tired of your once overused loose cunt.”

The sound of a  loud, harsh slap echoes through the room, followed immediately by startled gasps of shock and your face stinging painfully; as much as you all threw poisoned words through the air like arrows were loosed from an archer’s bow, none of you had ever dared lay a hand on one another. 

Your face burns, both from the pain from the hard slap and from a barely repressed anger, as you turn back from where it had been forcibly swung to the side at Inko’s strike to glare at her. 

“You’ll start being a lot happier with your life when you stop basing it around both mine and a man’s,” you hiss before exiting the makeup room and navigating your way through the halls of Lord Sukuna’s temple before finally entering the throne room. He was listening to a few servants of his describe the look of the lands outside the temple, and what they believed the upcoming winter would offer them, but he brushed them away upon realizing you’d entered. 

“Oh, my sweet treasure,” he purred warmly. “Come closer so I can bask in your beauty as I do every day.”

Obedient as always, you do just that, drifting closer before kneeling before him in acknowledgement of his power. Before you do so, you see the look in his eyes, and it sends a shot of fire to your stomach that you know all too well; his eyes are hooded, dark with a venomous lust that used to frighten you — but you aren’t the shy lamb sent to slaughter that you once were, are you?

“My lord Ryomen,” you murmur in a voice as thick and sweet as honey while just as deceptive as it would be when a part of a trap for flies. He stands, striding down the short set of stairs that led to his throne for you as he did for no other, and in a gruff voice commands you to stand at your full height. You do as told like always, and it doesn’t take long for him to catch sight of your aching face, which was no doubt starting to bruise.  

He gently grabs you by the jaw, careful that his claws do not prick your soft skin as he tilts your head to reveal your cheek to him. “Your beautiful face…” King Sukuna rumbles lowly, his voice an angered growl as he gently tips you by his grip on your jaw to look at the bruising handprint marring your face, and his eyes are as stormy as the sky outside of the temple as thunder booms amongst the clouds. “Who dared do this to you?”

“Inko,” you murmur quietly, then whine, “She called me a common whore and said I ruin everything. It hurt my feelings.”

“She will be punished,” he promises, cupping your face and kissing your forehead fondly in a show of slight sweetness that you knew he showed no other and strove to keep hidden at all times. Typically his words would comfort you, but not today. You were tired of Inko’s behavior, and a week locked alone in a room with nothing but bread and milk was no longer fitting in your eyes. 

You wanted her dead.  

“Fill me with your seed, my Lord,” you beg sweetly, and he groans while grabbing you borderline painfully tight and grinds your crotches together as you stand together in the throne room, allowing you to feel him at half-hardness. “I want to carry your spawn for you, just like you always say.” It was true; Demon King Ryomen Sukuna was a weak man when it came to his almost wicked thoughts of breeding one of his women’s fertile cunts, but he’d not yet filled any of his concubines’ wombs with life. That privilege, you knew, was to be yours alone — and with how desperately you knew he wanted it, you’d get your prize of Inko’s head on a golden plate and he would get his of the instinctual want for an heir before the week was up. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, standing as high on your tiptoes as you can to do so, and as usual he dips down so you can mouth sweetly at his skin, feeling one pair of arms rest at your hips while the other gently cup your face. “Let me ride you on your throne, my king,” you whisper sweetly, pulling your face from his hold and closing your teeth around one of his earlobes, tugging lightly. You both feel and hear the aroused growl leave his throat, and you move to nip at the base of his throat before asking again. “Please, beloved one?” you beg lightly, pressing a kiss to his jaw as he basks in the attention from your lips and your now wandering hands, which bury themselves in his hair in just the way he likes. “I want you to fill me in the way that only you will ever be able to. I desire the honor of bringing you life.”

You’re being dragged to his throne before you know it, your words plenty enough to tip him over any and all edges he had when it came to you, and he’s taking a seat and tugging you up onto his lap with a practiced ease that you both remembered all too well. He grinds his cock up into the crux of your thighs, his already hard length pressing against the place you were always bare for him beneath your skirts so perfectly. It only takes a moment for him to loose his cock from his robes, and even less time for him to press two of the fingers on one of his other three hands into your wet hole, the appendages curling just so inside so as to toy with you and prepare you for the vast stretch of one ( or even both ) of his cocks. 

“F-Fuck — M’Lord, there-!” You whimper shakily, hips bucking into his touch as he presses one callused thumb to your clit and begins drawing harsh circles on it in time with each curl of his fingers. 

“I know, sweet treasure, I know,” He murmurs softly. “I’ll take care of you — gotta get ya’ all nice and sloppy for me, dear one.”

“No more!” You whine impatiently. “Want you in me!”

His eyes are already dark, but they seem to darken even further at your senseless pleading. “As my foolish girl begs,” he says in mock-sweetness, pulling his fingers from your sopping cunt with a wet shlk! and beginning to use what you’d left on them to wet his cock rather than lick them clean like usual. Your heart ba-bump!s in your chest as a nervous shiver courses through you, but you don’t back down — you’d take his cocks and the resulting child of this coupling as well. 

“Oh gods — yes, please-!” you whimper, feeling the way he drags his cock against your slickened slit, and he chuckles lightly before pressing the fat head in. A stuttery gasp falls from your lips as your head does likewise to his shoulders, and you cling to him desperately as you begin to sink down onto him entirely. In what feels like forever ( but is really only a couple short seconds ) he’s fully sheathed inside of you, and you both still for a moment to soak in the feeling of both filling and being full — and the the Demon King decides the time to adjust is up, and begins fucking up into you. 

You bounce on his lap, moaning brazenly like a woman in a whorehouse, and your nails dig into his skin as he uses you like a toy for his own pleasure. Each drag of his thick cock inside you alights a fire in your belly as it always does, and you keen from your place on his lap as all four of his arms rove your body — two palming at your tits, one rubbing cruel circles on your swollen clit, and the third thrown around your waist. 

“Fuck… Fuck…” he moans, biting at your neck, and you whine needily while grinding down on him, trying your hardest to tempt him into forcing his second cock inside. Unfortunately, you doubted he would, considering he was always so cautious not to break his favorite toy ( you weren’t a fool, there was no love in his heart — there remained no heartstrings for you to tug on, only his sensitive cock. ), but seemingly today was an exception as a hand on one of your tits releases it just so he can grab his second length and press it against your sopping wet hole. The thick ring of cream around the base of the cock he’d already filled you with smears across his second as he urges the tip inside, a short scream falling from your lips as it pops in after a long moment of slightly-pained pressure. 

You’re overfull, tears are rolling down your cheeks, but Lord Sukuna just licks them up and begins using your body like the hole to fuck it is, bluncing you brutally on both of his cocks all while still seated on his massive throne. Behind you, you hear the wide doors to the throne room open, but it isn’t until a scandalized cry fills the room that you turn to look while your lord master continues fucking you without a care in the world for the eyes watching. 

“My Lord-? Oh gods, my apologies! I beg your forgiveness, my king!” The hand that had wandered in wails, falling to his knees in subservience at the realization that he’s just walked in on his lord taking his most favorite concubine in the throne room. The sight of both of his king’s cocks sinking so deeply into your glistening cunt had his own single cock twitching beneath his robes, but there was no way in hell he would ever dare to act on such a thing; the last time someone other than the king himself had touched a concubine with their unworthy hands, both had been torn apart in the King’s rage and fed to the carrion birds. 

“Fuck, you’re nothing but my sweet whore, aren’t you?” Sukuna groans deeply, ignoring the man entirely as you refocus entirely on him and the feelings he was forcing upon you. 

“Y-Yes, my king,” you moan shakily, your eyelashes fluttering as an ever-present knot starts to grow tighter in your lower belly alongside the overfull feeling, fueled by a heat that always burns in his presence.

“Cum on my cocks,” Sukuna orders through a moan. “Give it to me, I command you — I want to feel your cunt pulse around me as you come undone.” As he speaks he speeds up the circles he was drawing on your clit, and within moments you’re falling apart around him, crying out in ecstasy as he lets out a demonic roar and oresses himself as deeply inside as he can before emptying his balls. Faintly you register his eyes rolling back as he cums, but you’re too wrapped up in him to truly give a damn about any of it. 

After a few moments he begins to tug you off of his lengths, the muscles in your body just as instinctually unwilling to give them and their stretch up as you are as a natural resistance shows before being overtaken by you clenching down on him. “No,” you whimper, holding him tight. “Mine.”

“Y’gotta let me go, my precious jewel,” he rumbles quietly, and the urge to actually cry fills you and you just cling tighter. 

“No,” you say again, a fresh wave of tears stinging at your eyes. “Don’t wanna.”

A low groan falls from his lips, but he stops fighting you. You barely react as he lifts you, his inhuman strength making most any show of strength possible ( and making lifting you something easily scoffed at ), and you do likewise as he carries you off to his private chambers. A questioning noise falls from your half-chapped lips as he closes the massive open door of the two closed behind him, and he just shushes you before pulling the silk sheets and thick blankets and furs back before placing you on them. He’s straddling you, still stuck due to your clinging, and it takes a brief moment of wrestling with you before he manages to finally pull out. 

A borderline sickly wet noise fills both his and your ears as his cocks are drawn from your needy cunt, and the rush of thick demon cum that follows makes you whine pathetically. He just clicks his tongue at you and tugs on a rope made of golden chord that would ring a bell in one of the servant’s halls and summoned one such person, ordering them to ready your nightly meal ( despite the sun still being up ) so you could eat then sleep at your own leisure. Once the trembling man is gone, he joins you in bed. 

“I hope you meant your urging for me to grant you a child,” he purrs, biting at your shoulder while you press close to him. He pulls away, sitting up on the side of the bed, “Because there’s no going back now — you will carry my seed in your belly until you birth me a child.”

None of this matters to you. You had always planned to birth his first child, had always known that it was what your fate held for you — this moment was not for talk of a baby, no. You wanted your prize. 

“My dearest lord,” you sniffle needily, sliding from the bed on shaky legs and sinking to your knees between his legs, then propping yourself up over your crossed arms on them with a pout downturning your lips. A quickly growing puddle of his leaking cum begins to drip on the floor between your legs. “Please kill Inko — she’s so very mean to me, and all the other concubines are too because she’s been here so long.” Your bottom lip trembles as fresh tears start, and he sighs. 

“But her cunt is so sweet, dear one,” he murmurs, and you whimper and hide your face in one thick, muscled thigh. 

“You said she was loose. Besides, she hit me — I carry your spawn inside of me, and she hit me.” You didn’t have even his cum in you then, much less a conceived child — but you knew how to play the Demon King’s instincts, and the slight angered huff through his nostrils betray the rage simmering beneath his skin. All it would take was the tiniest push further. “It was the face this time, the face you own, but what if she pushes me down the stairs next? I could lose my life.”

Growling fills the air, and you know you've done it. 

“Rest here,” he says quietly, his voice shaking with rage, “Servants will be here to attend to you in a few minutes.”

He helps you up with one hand, half-tossing you onto the cushy bed, then begins making his way out of his private rooms. “Where are you going?” you call innocently, pushing a frightened tremor into your voice. “My lord Ryomen, please don’t leave me — I’m always so frightened without you!”

He stops in the middle of the room; you can see him shaking with anger. “I have business to attend to,” he says through gritted teeth. 

Your eyes glitter. “Come back to me soon, beloved one — I miss you desperately every moment you are away.” 

A grunt is your only response, and he exits the room as servants wheel in your dinner. You curl up prettily in his massive nest of a bed, and you peruse the options he’d granted you eagerly. When he was done, he’d use the excess rage to fuck you again — you’d need to quell what appetite you have now and then some if you wanted enough energy to survive. 

In the distance, furious roaring mixes with shrill, fearful screaming, and you delicately tug apart the roast duck you’d been served as the sounds of more concubines than just Inko being killed fills the temple. Servants cower, and the younger cupbearers whimper, but you just smile softly and hold out your emptied cup. 

“I would like more pear juice, please.”

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

[vodika-vibes]

Just submitting another Jango request. Go nuts love.

The Reason

Summary: You seem to always be the sacrificial lamb, be it for your parents or your extended family. You hope that history won’t repeat itself with Jango.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 1821

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So this started out as one thing, and turned into another, lol. The ending is rather open-ended, I think. It can either continue on to canon, or veer off into AU territory, and I kind of love it.

You sit in front of the vanity in the small side room set aside for Brides to get ready for their big day. Your hair is done, as is your makeup, and you’re already dressed in your down and jewelry.

And you asked your bridesmaids, mother, and grandmother to give you a few moments to yourself.

As you stare at yourself in the mirror, you realize that you don’t recognize the woman staring back at you.

Your hair had been straightened, curled, and then pinned up with diamonds and flowers and diamond flowers. Your makeup is caked on your face. Your dress is tight and not at all your preferred style. The jewelry is big and expensive and gaudy���

You might look like a bride, but you feel like a prisoner about to be walked to the execution chamber.

Only, no one is going to give you a stay of execution.

You press a carefully manicured hand over your heart and lean over slightly, releasing a slightly shaky breath.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. 

Your soon-to-be husband is…well, he’s not a good man. Not by any definition of the word, but he’s apathetic enough about you that he won’t hurt you. In fact, you’re pretty sure that, after today, you’ll only see him on major holidays.

You’ll be little more than his perfect little trophy wife.

Pretty and delicate. Always perfectly done with perfect hair and nails and makeup.

You close your eyes and the lonely life you’re being saddled with stretches out in front of you. You’ll be isolated from your friends, and forced to make other acquaintances who better match the aesthetic that your husband will want you to maintain.

Your hand flies from your chest, to press over your mouth as a sob threatens to rip from your throat.

There’s a knock on the door, and you immediately straighten and drop your hand, shoving all of your emotions back into the little box deep within your heart. “It’s open,” You call, your voice soft and delicate and pretty.

Gods. Who have you become?

The door clicks open, and your Maid of Honor steps into the room. Lanai is Miralian and has been your best friend since both of you were in diapers, and you picked the bridesmaid outfits solely based on what would look good with her deep green skin.

She shuts the door and walks over to you, lightly setting her hands on your bare shoulders, squeezing gently. Her dark gaze is locked with yours, and she smiles softly.

“Oh, Dove.” Lanai wraps her arms around your shoulders from behind and presses the side of her head against yours, “You’re so unhappy.”

For a moment, your facade crumbles, and the picture-perfect woman in the mirror reveals herself to be you. Just you.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” You admit as you wrap your hands around her arms, “Look at me, Lanai. I…I don’t know this woman.”

Lanai’s arms tighten around you, but she doesn’t say anything. And then she drops a kiss to your temple and releases you to walk over to the closet.

“What are you doing?” You ask as you turn on your chair to watch her.

Lanai digs through the closet for a moment and then pulls out a worn denim backpack. Your old backpack, from high school. It’s covered in patches, drawings, and signatures. 

A small smile crosses your face at the sight. “Where did you find this?” You ask, “I thought mother threw it away.”

“She did,” Lanai replied, “I saved it, and stored it in my closet.” She pauses and trails a finger over a tooka patch, “Do you remember our plan when we were in high school?”

“Yeah. We were going to leave this place. We were going to save up money for a ship and travel the galaxy and write a book about the different people and places we saw.” Your smile is small and fond, though it fades quickly, “Guess we should have known it was never going to happen.”

Lanai’s smile is tragic, and you take an aborted step towards her.

She presses the bag into your hands, “Open it.”

You shoot her a confused look but unzip the bag and peer in. And then the confusion morphs into genuine surprise as you pull out an outfit that better suits your tastes.

And, at the bottom of the bag is a folder. Inside the folder is the proof of purchase for a small ship called Red Robin, as well as the keys to start it.

“Lanai, what—?”

“I saw the writing on the wall when we were still seniors,” She says, “The other girls are stalling the wedding, the pastor is going to be very, very late. You have time to change and run.”

You flip towards the back of the folder and pause when you see a new ID card and everything you’d need for a brand new identity.

“Lanai—?”

“We love you. All we want is for you to be happy. And you won’t be happy here.”

You stare at your best friend and feel tears prick the corner of your eyes, “I’m going to miss you so much,”

Lanai flings her arms around you, “I know. I’ll miss you too. But this isn’t goodbye forever. It’s just…until we see each other again.” She pulls back and wipes a tear off her cheek, “Now, let’s get you out of this get-up.”

A shaky laugh falls from you as she starts pulling gems out of your hair and drops them on the floor as though they’re worthless, “How’d you remember the ship name we picked out when we were six?”

“Because I’m amazing, that’s how. Now shush, we have to be quick. Here’s a makeup wipe to get that gunk off your face—”

Exactly one hour later, the Red Robin leaves atmosphere.

Three years later, you’ve made a name for yourself as a transport pilot who is quite skilled at dealing with pirates, cartels, and everything in between. You’ve made friends with Jedi and bounty hunters.

And, so far as you can tell, no one is looking for the run-away bride who you used to be.

You’re just glad that you’re able to be you again.

You’ve recently dyed your hair dark pink and added three more tattoos to your ever-growing collection. 

Today, though, you’re taking a vacation day. 

A vacation day on a very nice space station, where you’re nursing something fruity and sweet and is probably 85% alcohol. You cheerfully stick the umbrella back into the drink and flick it so it twirls around the pale blue liquid, and start to seriously consider a beach vacation on Scarif when someone knocks on your table.

You lean back and peer up into the very amused face of Jango Fett.

“Jango!” You beam at him and kick the chair out for him, “Have a seat! It’s been ages!”

He sinks into the chair next to you and steals your drink to take a sip. “Yeah, yeah. I was on the other side of the galaxy. On a job.”

“I figured,” You beam at him, “Still, it’s nice to see you. I miss you when you’re not around.”

He flashes you a small smirk, and takes another sip of your drink, “You know, I’m pretty sure this is just alcohol flavored with sugar.”

You shrug, “Probably. Anyway, what brings you here?”

“You, actually.”

“Oh?”

Jango drops a bounty puck between you and activates it with a press of a button. Your face appears on the holo.

You blink at yourself, and then at Jango, “Someone put a bounty on me?”

“Please tell me you’re not flattered about this,” He says with a sigh.

“Surprised, mostly.” You lean in and squint at the holo, “My hair hasn’t been that color in years, and that outfit!”

“It’s your face, but it’s not your name, Dove.” Jango replies, “I was contacted by a man who said that his bride-to-be vanished on their wedding day. I don’t suppose you have an explanation?”

“It was supposed to be a political marriage. I would have had more freedom as a prisoner.” You explain, “I’m not going back, Jango.”

He sighs and leans back in his chair, “Apparently your family misses you. And I can’t believe you never mentioned this to me.”

“They can continue missing me. The only way you’ll get me back there is in a body bag.” You reply as you steal your drink back and take a sip. “And it’s something that I wanted to forget.”

He folds his arms, “You’re so stubborn.”

“I will not be anyone’s trophy wife.” You hiss as you lean across the table, “Ever.” You frown when you see the tiny smile on Jango’s face, “Why are you smiling like that?”

His smile widens, “I’ve been offered a job. A long job.”

You stare at him, confused, “Okay?”

“I want you to come with me.”

“...what?”

“Because you’re talented and clever,” Jango replies, “And you read people the way that most people read books, and I need that.”

“For what?!”

He leans in, “I was contacted by someone who, I’m pretty sure, is a sith,”

“You’re fucking with me,”

“I’m not.”

“You can’t help the Sith, Jango. Do you remember anything good happening when the Sith were involved? Like. Ever?” You demand.

He leans in a little more, “Listen, they want me to go to Kamino and allow myself to be cloned.”

“That’s the dumbest damn thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“I have a plan.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to let them, and then I’m going to take the clones and retake Mandalore.” Jango’s smile is sharp, “Kriff the rest of the galaxy, and kriff the sith.”

“You’re going to start a war.”

“Wars going to happen with or without me,” Jango points out, “This way, I get to control the narrative.”

“And why do you want me?”

“Like I said, you’re clever and you’re good at reading people. I need people following me who I can trust.” He pauses, “People I can trust like how I trust you.”

“Jango—”

“Also, they’re giving me a clone to raise as a son, and he’s going to need a mom.”

“Wow, that’s romantic.” You say sarcastically.

“Come on, Dove. You know I love you.”

“This is stupid, Jango. You know that, right? I mean, it’s going to take years—”

“They’re going to have increased aging for 10 years.” He explains, “Cyare, please, I need you on this.”

You sigh softly, “Alright, Jango. I’ll help. But if this goes wrong—”

“I’ll protect you. I swear it.” He takes your hand and presses a light kiss to your knuckles, “So…will you marry me now?”

You know that this whole thing can go wrong in millions of ways. But right here, right now, you decide to trust Jango. That’s what it is to love someone, right?

[onceonafullmoon]

A Marionette's Ball

Yan! Chevalier x Fem! Reader x Yan! Gilbert

Tw!! Manipulation, threats of violence, implied captivity, period typical misogyny and Gilbert Von Obsidian himself

You didn’t tame shit; you were at best, a sacrificial lamb sent to curb the hunger of a ravenous tiger, only to end up becoming a plaything instead of a meal.  And now you were here, having somehow fooled another apex predator into thinking you were some sort of beast in your own right.

-----

You need to stop fiddling with your necklace.

You know you need to calm down, but doing so is another story; you can practically feel the weight of everyone’s stares on you, not malicious, but prying still in their curiosity.

And it’s tough fighting the urge to snatch one of the champagne flutes off of the waiter's plates and down it in one gulp, but the subtle warning of Chevalier’s fingers pressing at your waist helps you forget the idea.

Right.

Just make a good impression and then you’ll get to go back to your own schedule with only one scrutinizing set of eyes on you.

It’s almost impossible to mess this up anyways, with all the effort Sariel has been putting into making you a “true lady befitting of a prince”.

Ha.

The audacity of that claim makes you laugh. 

As if you had a choice in any of this. 

As if you were something more than a puppet on a string pulled by the most powerful man in the kingdom.

Nevertheless, you pushed through the lessons easily enough, it was, at the very least, an escape from Chevalier’s smothering presence, although you would rather have buried your nose into a good book instead.

At any rate, it doesn’t seem like much of your work will be put into play considering the way that Chevalier has you glued to his side.

You suppose you get the hostility, he’s always been a touch smothering even before… this, and it doesn’t help that princes from other nations are currently visiting too.

Not that you would have the opportunity to meet any of them considering how anal Chevalier was about your “safety”.

In fact, if it were a year ago when you were still “unruly” he would have probably kept you chained in his room the whole time.

Well, if all good behavior amounted to was this then you probably could have thrown a fit to get yourself locked up again. Now it was too late, and you were stuck smiling fakely at some random noble who came to give his greetings. 

“My, my, if it isn’t the mystery woman that everyone’s been wondering about. Everyone’s been wondering about the one who stole the Chevalier Micheal’s heart, it's a pleasure to finally be able to meet you.” The nobleman, who you recall vaguely being named Lord Wessley, greets you with a certain, subtle prying look on his face as he studies you.

“Oh, you flatter me, but I’m afraid I’m not much to speak of. Any compliments should be redirected towards my fiancé.” You smile, cringing at the use of the word fiancé but happy enough with the way Chevalier’s brow furrows ever so slightly in annoyance.

You can almost hear his voice ringing out in your ears.

“If you have enough time to dish out praise, then you have enough time to do something useful with yourself, simpleton.”

“Praise worthy indeed!” Another man cuts in, rudely, albeit he’s possibly a bit drunk already. “An arsenal of military feats, a genius intellect that only appears once a century, and now a bride to be, you’re truly something else Prince Chevalier!”

You have to try your hardest to bite back the laugh bubbling up in you and Chevalier slightly grimaces.

Wessley furrows his eyebrows slightly at the intrusion but doesn’t comment, or rather, doesn’t get the chance to comment as he’s interrupted again. 

“And what a beauty she is, I can see why you’ve kept her locked up away from the rest of us!”

And now you are no longer smiling.

Karma really is a bitch.

The grip around your waist tightens and you find yourself conflicted about whether to celebrate the (hopefully only) verbal lashing this misogynistic bastard will get or to intervene for the sake of this very clearly drunk man.

Empathy wins out in the end, but also because you don’t trust Chevalier not to immediately jump at the chance to “incidentally” find this man charged with treason.

“I’m flattered by praise, truly, but you look a bit sickly to me, are you feeling alright?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but you cut him off smoothly.

“Poor thing, I bet you can hardly stand, much less answer coherently, but there are several couches in the foyer for you to rest at. I’d escort you myself but, considering the circumstances, perhaps Lord Wessley can escort you instead?”

Of course, Wessley himself isn’t too keen on leaving the conversation, seeing as he probably started it to discuss his own business. But when you phrase it in such a way of offering good will, he can’t refuse. 

With a furrowed brow he replies in kind and leaves.

Perhaps Sariel’s lessons did come in handy, you think as you find yourself alone again.

A sigh from Chevalier has you mending your thoughts, not completely alone, unfortunately.

“How bothersome.” He grumbles, finally letting his arm drop from your waist.

“Yeah, being stuck around someone you can’t stand, tell me about it.” 

He gives you a look which would scare the living daylights out of even a battle hardened soldier, to which you innocently smile at.

You know him well enough to know when you’re actually in trouble.

“What? Just offering some words of support in your trying times Prince Chevalier, now wipe that look of murder off before our guests get any ideas.”

Your smile dips into a frown when instead of falling for the taunt he smirks at you.

“Prince Chevalier? I recall being referred to as fiancé earlier.”

You narrow your gaze, regretting your earlier decision to speak.

“Don’t read much into it, you’ll strain your eyes trying to find nothing.”

He simply smirks again.

“Complacency is a dangerous thing isn’t it?”

He leans in closer, tilting your head up, sending roils of annoyance and slight embarrassment through you as you fix your eyes on his face, unwavering from his.

“...It’d be a shame for you, if all your efforts were for naught.”

He chuckles derisively, letting you go. 

“Now, wipe that look of murder off before our guests get any ideas.”

You glare at him, annoyed that he used your words against you, before deciding to make a tactful retreat.

“Now that I’ve taken care of your nuisances, I’m taking care of mine for a bit and freshening up. Does that please your highness, or should I stay tethered to your side for another hour?” 

He scoffs. 

“Just don’t get lost, simpleton.”

To use Clavis’s terminology, the Cheva translation of that would mean: “Go ahead, but if you aren’t back in 10 minutes I will find you and there will be consequences.”

“...Whatever your highness wishes.”

—

You supposed Chevalier already knew that you weren’t going to the bathroom to freshen up, rather instead to find a private area to ruminate at being bested by him once more, and that almost made you even more upset.

It’s stupid that you’re even angry, you know that there's no winning a fight against him. It was already a given that he would twist your words around in an attempt to make you succumb to him, and yet…

You furrow your brow as you turn the corner.

It was all you could do, if you could annoy him, even just a bit then that would be victory enough… 

At least it should be, if you didn’t get carried away with it.

But damn you for having a competitive streak and damn him for pointing out the one idea that would make you sick to your stomach.

(Although, maybe if you thought about it more, you would find it was only his own sick desires taking form in his words.)

“Complacency, my ass.” You mutter, as you push open the door to the library.

Despite this being originally Chevalier’s domain, you’ve also been quite the avid reader, and so any time alone with books was welcome. And even if you weren’t alone… well at least he had the sense not to disturb you, outside of his general presence.

Scanning the room when you enter, you find your eyes catching on the rows of bookshelves before halting when you see the shape of a figure, dimly lit by a candle.

You frown slightly.

While there were no set rules against entering a host’s library, it was still considered bad taste to enter rooms you weren’t explicitly given access to. Not that this person seemed unaware of it, judging by the lofty coat you could make out they seemed to be born into wealth.

Well, you weren’t exactly a shining beacon of manners either, considering that you were ditching your debut ball in order to sulk in the corner of a dark room because your captor/fiancé bested you in a game of wits.

Although, when you put it that way, your life does sound significantly more ridiculous.

You, albeit hesitantly, decide to give the person the benefit of the doubt and approach them to direct them back to the ball.

“Excuse me?” You call out, nearing the figure. “Are you lost?”

They turn around, and it becomes apparent that they’re a man. But not just any man, you realize, as a few more details come to light that have you suddenly freezing in place.

First, the dark crimson eye that gazes upon you while the other hides behind a black eye patch.

Second, the black cane who’s shiny finish glints in the candle light.

And lastly, the golden encrusted emblem, signature of an Obsidianite.

“Oh no, I’m exactly where I need to be.” Gilbert Von Obsidian responds cheerfully.

…

You suddenly have the sense that you’ve, to use words that Chevalier claims are “crude and boorish”, absolutely fucked up.

To be fair to you, you hadn’t been able to see even a glimpse of any foreign princes, much less would you have predicted that the damn Prince of Obsidian was going to be there, or more accurately here, in your lovely library safe space. 

It’s not often that anyone other than Chevalier makes you stumped on what to do these days, but that goes to show how dangerous complacency really is.

“Prince Gilbert.” You finally manage to greet, falling into a practiced curtsey. 

When you pull your head back up, he has an innocuous smile on his face, eyes crinkled slightly.

“No need to lower yourself, (Name) (Last Name), soon enough we’ll be on the same social standing won’t we?”

Oh, of course he knows who you are, couldn’t make it any less difficult for you could he? Still, the provocation (actually, whether he knew it as a provocation or not was a matter to be unseen yet) of your future engagement has you irritated as well as afraid.

“You never know what might happen.” You respond neutrally. “I’d hate to offend because I grew cocky.”

“Cautious, aren’t you?” He questions.

“That’s a good trait to have, although, I can’t say I would’ve thought the woman who tamed the Brutal Beast would be so meek.”

You want to laugh at his attempt at a jab, because he couldn’t be closer to the truth.

You didn’t tame shit; you were at best, a sacrificial lamb sent to curb the hunger of a ravenous tiger, only to end up becoming a plaything instead of a meal. 

And now you were here, having somehow fooled another apex predator into thinking you were some sort of beast in your own right.

But even still, you couldn’t help the words that poured out of your mouth.

“I would argue that being meek and being cautious are entirely different, but it must be difficult to understand from your perspective.”

“That so?” He hums. “What’s your view then?”

“That you can’t tell the difference, because for you, someone who has been powerful and feared for so long, there’s hardly any need for subtlety when dealing with others. For people like me, discretion is a necessary tool.”

A tinge of bitterness seeps into your tone as you respond, or maybe it's jealousy; you can’t tell. 

But it’s enough to make Gilbert pause, facing you, seemingly looking at you like he hasn’t seen you before, his eye glinting with something akin to interest. 

Oh.

Shit.

You’ve always had a bad habit of overplaying your hand during your time with Chevalier, possibly because you were so used to a lack of consequences due to his soft spot. It would’ve been better and safer for him to believe you were Chevalier’s little trophy wife and suffer the stab it would take to your ego. 

“...I suppose that “genius’s thinking alike” must be true, for you to be able to make such a succinct assumption about me.” He smiles, this time his eyes glinting with something darker.

“...I wouldn’t go so far as to imply that Prince Gilbert.” You say, desperate in your attempt to backtrack.

“Oh? Cowering now, are we?” He asks, the smile on his face growing more predatory. “And here I thought you’d be more vicious.”

He’s clearly trying to pry at you, to goad you into snapping at him, but you’ve since realized that the playing field had favored him from the start and you’d do better to avoid the trap he’d set for you.

“...I think you have rather high expectations, that you might think of me similar to the company I keep.”

“And you’d be right.” He says, drawing himself closer to you, even more empowering as he draws near, his red eye glistening like the blade of a knife.

You find yourself wanting to run, like the terrified lamb you are in the face of the threatening jaws of the beast in front of you.

But you don’t.

Because these damn beasts are always just toying with you, never daring to go for the killing blow.

He towers over you, clearly trying to get a reaction out of you, but you find that you can’t quite summon up the effort to change your expression.

“…”

“…”

Moments pass and his eye widens a bit, seemingly shocked at your lack of expression.

“You aren’t scared, are you?” He states, more as a fact than a question as he pulls himself away to an appropriate distance.

You shrug as if to say you don’t quite care, but you felt like laughing.

The truth is, he’s wrong. 

You’re constantly scared, every single day of your life.

When you wake up, when you go to sleep, you’re filled with horror constantly, terrified by the man who lays beside you. Every move you make is calculated and stuff, made in fear of the blades, not set to cut you, but rather everything you know and love.

Even now you’re scared, not quite by the prospect of death, but by the fact that it doesn’t scare you.

The fact that you would rather accept freedom in the form of being removed from your earthly ties than to live another life being tethered to this life scares you, because you know death is the only way you’ll be safe from him.

It brings you only slight ease that despite his best efforts of chasing perfection, Chevalier still only amounts to a man.

Gilbert’s laugh snaps you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to the man in front of you.

“That’s excellent!” He says, toothy grin lighting up his face, eye lighting up like he’s a child who’s found a new toy to play with.

Somewhere deep down you can feel a familiar sense of dread forming in the pit of your stomach that only comes with Chevalier, almost like deja vu.

It shouldn’t surprise you, after all it’s said that the prince of Obsidian is a genius only the likes of Chevalier could rival. It’s the type of gossip you used to absentmindedly listen to while busying yourself walking down the streets.

Still, you’ve survived Chevalier, albeit with your share of scars, you can handle at least one chance meeting with another snobby prince.

“Are you done threatening me then Prince Gilbert? I believe my fiancé is looking for me.” You say, keeping your tone neutral.

He chuckles, that wide, creepily childlike smile still on his face as he hears you speak.

“Of course. Tell Prince Chevalier that I congratulate him on finding such an interesting toy.”

“Of course.” You mimic, turning on your heel to leave. “Perhaps next time we can meet in a more fitting setting rather than the library, Prince Gilbert.”

Petty, yes, but he doesn’t seem affected by the rebuttal you throw his way judging by the small laugh he lets out as you leave.

Toy, huh?

You think, as you find yourself retracing your steps back to the ballroom. 

More fitting than lover that’s for sure, but you doubt even a genius like Gilbert would understand from just a glance that that was the case, rather he meant it in a dismissive manner.

But still, you can’t help the bitter smile that appears on your face at the statement.

Because you would end up back at Chevalier’s side, and either through your expressions or through his own logic system that you couldn’t possibly fathom, he would understand everything that happened. And then, like always, you would end up locked up in a cage while, ironically, the beast who should be locked in there would prowl around, growling at anyone who came close, possessive of his toy.

And the worst part is, even though you could see the path paved for you, leading you to your own demise, you still had to follow it, like written in a story, like fate.

And maybe that’s why you smile instead of frown when you see your beloved captor’s face twist into a look of grim understanding as he sees you again, wordlessly gesturing you to draw nearer with his gaze.

Because ironically enough, the only person even close enough to understanding or even changing your situation was the same breed as the monster that possessed you.

And it’s an amusing thought to you.

But if you could see the expression of a certain dark haired man, thinking almost fondly on your interaction, you wouldn’t find it half as funny.

[t00thpasteface]

What's your (spoiler light) read on the personalities of Martin and Lucien?

I need it for fic reasons

-Mellowscrolls

ok FIRST OFF let me say that by "spoiler light" i assume you mean you're still in the process of playing their respective quests, to which i insist that you should take everything i (some internet jester) say with a grain of void salts and prioritize finishing the quests and coming to your own conclusions. THAT BEING SAID, i know most RPGs suffer from the fact that they can never truly be as explicit in their worldbuilding and characterization as a less interactive medium like, say, a novel, given the constraints that player interaction and choice will place on the direction and depth of a story, so sometimes a little brainstorming is necessary to fill in the gaps. here's my takes:

i've said before that Martin seems like he's being weighed down and pushed forward by a LOT of guilt and regret. even his sense of obligation to the empire has an edge of self-flagellation to it. he is a hilariously catholic character while also being the closest thing to an agnostic in the tes universe after Else God-Hater-- there's a lot to unpack there. his past is defined by (1) running away, (2) making huge mistakes that ruin lives, and (3) denying himself and his own needs and wants. whether it's as a mage, cultist, priest, or emperor, his life is defined by being pushed into/out of certain identities by outside forces and losing parts of himself in each stage. he does a lot of running away and hiding in his life, literal and metaphorical.

and what's worse is he's overwhelmingly referred to by other characters AS his titles in the game: priest and emperor. he's never Martin; he's either Brother Martin, denying himself a personal identity and considering himself to be just another expendable priest, or Emperor Martin Septim, denied a personal identity by others and treated mostly as a living plot-device and sacrificial lamb who gets picked up and moved around like the Amulet of Kings. i think more than anything, as cliche as this may sound, he probably just wants to Be Himself. but it's easier to just bury all that down and throw yourself into the monotony and routine of the Akatosh Chantry than it is to do any real introspection, so... you know the rest.

by contrast i see Lucien as a total control freak who puts on a big grand suave personality as a deliberate act, and underneath, it he's extremely petty and vindictive. he's always in charge. he always strikes first and he can always make an escape. he sets the terms for every interaction and expects complete unwavering loyalty and obedience in return. he lets you see only what he thinks you need to see-- of the brotherhood, of his methods, even of his body. even his dedication to Sithis is self-righteous and authoritative: Sithis works through HIM. the black hand must be preserved insofar as his authority and power must be preserved; he requires the veneer of credibility that the black hand provides. the black hand must be preserved because it is valuable to his needs and goals. and you will do exactly as he says, when and how he says to do it, in order to make that happen. and you will not ask questions.

this ends up being kind of a blind spot because he's so used to being in control, and absolutely NEEDS to be, that he underestimates his enemies/weaknesses bc he sees himself as a chessmaster. he doesn't want to think about someone outsmarting him, so he doesn't think about it, and therefore it's not even on his radar. the possibility does not exist in his mind so he can't pick up on the signs. and he ESPECIALLY can't ask you to watch his back-- only follow his orders, because to do otherwise would be to insinuate weakness. he's been in it so long that started believing his own persona. if Martin needs to find himself so he can make his own choices, Lucien needs to find himself so he can let someone else make some choices for once.

as for how those personalities would interact, congeal, or clash: it's entirely UP TO YOU!! and i'm eager to see what you (or anyone else) can come up with...

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Pawn: One

Bucky folded his arms and glared across the desk at Steve. “What the fuck do you mean “Step Daughter is the best we can do?”

Steve, unphased, snorted and leaned back in his desk chair, “It means what it sounds like unless you want to wait 10 years. You know. When you’ll be 40 and Rumlow’s guys have already put bullets in all our heads.”

Bucky sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. This whole thing was a nightmare. He didn’t WANT to marry anyone. But. Family ties were family ties and Rumlow was slowly and steadily encroaching on all their turf. A war was coming. And he needed to find soldiers and quickly. The easiest way to do that was a girl.

He just didn’t understand why it had to be THIS girl. Why it had to be you. You made his head ache. You made his eyes glaze over. When he saw you at a party, he went out of his way to avoid you. Sure. You were nice. You were quiet. Some people even said you were sweet. A good girl. And good girls didn’t make good mob wives. 

“Bucky, it could be worse,” Nat said shrugging. “It’s not like you have any better options than Stark.”

He fought the urge to throw something at her. He didn’t like feeling this backed into a corner. And he hated it more that she was right. Stark had money. And influence. He had a lot of clout. And refusing the offer could mean that anyone else would just shut the door in his face. He’d be left out in the cold and before he could blink, the empire he’d carved out for himself would evaporate. Like water on a hot pan. 

“She’s pretty,” Sam added shrugging, “She looks good in diamonds.”

“And quiet,” Steve mused, “A girl is always prettier when she knows when to shut up.”

Bucky didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking at Nat as he said it. And he didn’t have to turn to know Nat was giving him the finger. Instead he walked across the office, stopping in front of the cold fireplace and touching the smooth, clear, crystal of the nearest pawn on the chess board. Thinking. 

For his father, Business had been a chess game. It was one he excelled at. Always 8, 9, 10 moves ahead. He was a slippery, underhanded son of a bitch. And he was… disagreements aside, a good man. He’d given Bucky a solid foundation. One that had been building since his great grandfather first stepped off the boat at Ellis Island. And now… if he didn’t play the game right, he was going to lose it all. 

He picked up the pawn and watched it roll in the palm of his hand. The light of his desk lamp making it glimmer. It was asinine to him, the idea that his future all depended on a girl. One that Stark was fond of sure… but how fond could he be if he was willing to use her for leverage? Could that little affection be enough of a pull to get his help? Would the girl even try? She’d be a pawn. A sacrificial lamb. Bucky could feel the eyes of his friends on his back as he stared at his hand feeling like a heel. He may not like you but.. It was this or a plot next to his dad. And, sometimes. Even pawns won the game. 

“Set up a meeting,” he said finally, “And someone get the lawyers. We’re going to need a hell of a prenup.”

______

“Pull up a seat, kid,” Tony said pouring himself a drink from the decanter on his desk and leaning back in his chair. 

The haze of cigar smoke was thick. And you could tell from his missing tie and unbuttoned shirt sleeves that today had been a rough day. So you sat, forgoing the lecture about smoking. For now. 

“Papa,” you start tentatively, crossing your ankles and pushing up your glasses, “What-”

Tony cut you off with a gesture and sighed, “Someone asked me if they could marry you today,” he said bluntly, and then snorted at the flicker of confusion on your face. 

“I’m not dating anyone,” you say slowly. 

“And James Barnes would like to change that.” 

He took a sip of his drink and watched your reaction. As a rule, everything you wanted to say was written all over your face. But not today. Your brain seemed to have shorted out. At least for a moment. He could see the wheels spinning before they caught traction. 

“Wants to or needs to?” you counter, sitting up and helping yourself to a drink. Tony’s been your father figure since you were 6. You know a negotiation when you see one. And you know a little bravado can go a long way. 

“So you do pay attention,” he chuckled, nodding approvingly. 

You shrug and make an impatient gesture, “Please. He’d been defending his little patch for years.” You had a lot of respect for Barnes, truth be told. He was tenacious. And savvy. Both were qualities you could appreciate. You knew from being at Tony’s elbow for so long that you could do a lot with very little if you knew how to use what you had. “The fuck am I supposed to be?”

Tony quirked an eyebrow. You knew he hated it when you swore. And when he didn’t say anything you were more than a little surprised. And even more surprised when his shoulders sagged and he looked a little ashamed of himself. “A representation of a united front,” he sighed. “Rumlow’s been getting bigger for years… I know it’s medieval but-”

“What’s mom say?” you snapped impatiently. You hate this. Everything about this. And even more you hate that if Tony tells you what to do, you’ll do it. Because he’s family. Because Morgan is still so little. And because you know that even Tony can’t hold Rumlow off forever. Not without help.

He flinched, “She told me that I was an asshole for entertaining it but-” He stopped and looked at you. He could see the war on your face. He can see that you’d love to call him a dick and storm out. That you’d like to throw a paperweight at his head and tell him no. But he can also see the resignation. That he could ask and you’d do it. If only to make him happy. To keep him safe so that Morgan doesn’t ever have to be lonely or scared or without a dad.  

“Kid-” He starts but stops when you hold up a hand and pinch the bridge of your nose, bowing your head to shut your eyes against the tears that are threatening to fall. 

“You know what I’m going to say,” you sigh, sitting up straight slowly and taking a drink of your brandy. 

“Thank you,” Tony said sincerely. He wanted to hug you and kiss the side of your head. But he knew that you felt prickly. Irritated. And that it would probably feel more like a restraint than affection. 

“I want total control over planning the wedding, A nice allowance, and money to renovate whatever he has the nerve to call a house,” you say simply. 

“What, no diamonds?”

“Oh no. That too,” you snorted. If you were going to be a pawn, you were going to be a well taken care of pawn.

And Tony couldn’t help but laugh. 

[pa-panda-heroes]

blue hour.

demon!au!dabi x reader nsfw; find the sequel here

Inspired (sorta) by this post. This was initially a 400 followers celebration fic but took so long I got to 500, plus it’s Halloween!! 🎃🎃🎃

i listened to Mothica’s song Blue Hour while i wrote this and honestly fell in love with it. hence the name! please go give her a listen!

Minors, go away. This content is not for you.

Warnings: brief description of kidnapping, tiny mentions of religion (nonspecified tho!) and human sacrifice, injury + blood mention, foul language, brief cremation, Dabi being horny (hehe), Dabi absolutely 100% not using magic on you nope, thigh fucking, orgasm denial, biting, dirty talk, degradation?, spanking, overstimulation, dumbification if you squint?

Words: 14k+

Summary: Kidnapped and held as an offering to an ominous demon, you thought your death was near. Soon enough you find your captor dead and the demon you were offered to becomes your savior. Dabi clearly has plans for you, but what are they? Or was everything just a dream?

Your heartbeat thrummed within your ears, sweat sweltering and becoming a thick layer on your skin all over, making the fabric of your clothes cling to it ever-so-uncomfortably. It felt like you were being smothered from head to toe in fabric. The cooled blood that began just above your temple and trickled all the way down your face and neck had dried by now, acting as a crusty reminder of the reason behind the throbbing in your head. Trees swayed in the chilly winds that passed, making the cool air even colder - yet here you were, sweating like there was no tomorrow. You were bound by the wrists and ankles to a musty wooden pole in a forest you’d never seen before, the sky dark yet bright for the blue moon. The stars looked so free, so beautiful, so serene tonight. Yet you didn’t feel it.

Your breathing was quick, panicked, and hurried to the extent that you’d take in more oxygen by breathing less. Your poor, puffy lip was numb from having been chewed on so much, to the point where you couldn’t remember whether you were a chronic lip biter or not; but you sure were, now. That is, until he gagged you by tying an old handkerchief around your face. You struggled against your scratchy, dry restraints so much, they began to dig into your skin and bleed, sending a trail of blood down your arms and a jolt of burning, throbbing, stinging pain through your nerves.

You were far from alone.  

The only other human body you knew of was the one who put you in the position you currently find yourself in after a night of dancing, booze, and sweat. The inebriation from the alcohol made you an easy target, you guessed. God damn it all.

The night began with your celebrating a friend’s birthday at a club, drinking, dancing, and making merry. You had regretted agreeing to go at first after having a long, agonizingly tiring day at work, which gave you the burning desire to wrap up after a bath and lay in bed until the next day when you’d have to get up again. But as the night progressed, you were glad you tagged along; after all, it was an unexpectedly nice release after a bad day.  

Now you were regretting it again.

If only you hadn’t gone to the club.  

If only hadn’t agreed even if begrudgingly to go.

If only you hadn’t left your apartment.  

You made the mistake of trying to find a bathroom on your own and ended up in an alleyway. The last thing you saw was a filthy dumpster before it all went black, and upon waking you found yourself bound in this horrifying forest.

Around you was a circular dirt clearing bordered with a solid line and filled with various marks made upon it, ones that you’d never seen before. They looked to be of a lost, long-dead language - the language your masked captor was evidently speaking as he sat on his knees with his hands in the air before a makeshift altar of a sort. There was some distance between him and the altar, probably about two meters, that being the same distance he sat from you as you watched in horror.  

He was going to kill you, but not before torturing you - or other things. For some hideous purposes that looked a lot to do with a demon or something. All because you were a virgin that just so happened to cross his path.

You tried making noises, tried screaming, but it made no difference. He wouldn’t stop his hideous chanting and no one could hear you anyway. The thick forest swallowed your every scream and the gag held back your every cry. More tears run down your cheeks at your predicament, your struggling against your binds only digging into and stinging your skin as piping hot blood continued to trail down your tender wrists and ankles. It felt like frostbite was setting in. Was it actually, or was it your nerves? 

A pillar of black smoke began to rise from the ground in front of your masked captor, who then bowed with his forehead to the ground. Your own heart was beating in your ears so quickly you thought it would explode any minute. If only it would - you wouldn’t have to endure this any longer. 

“What... the hell do you want?” you hear a voice boom, distorted in such a way that made it sound like it echoed a thousand times. ���Filthy human.” 

“Your favor, my lord. I offer you this virgin.”

You try screaming again, your throat beginning to feel scratchy and dry. It almost felt like it was bleeding. Could it be bleeding? Your mind was almost a haze, now. 

You can see a form emerge from the ground where the black smoke stands, and you’re stunned and scared into total silence as you see the silhouette of two large wings and a pointed tail. Other than that, the silhouette appears mostly human. But it’s not.

“My favor, eh?” you hear the voice again. The silhouette swings his arm and with it vanishes the smoke, and the reality that this... thing isn’t human finally settles in your heart. His hair is black and spiky, there are pieces of what look to be burnt flesh under his minty eyes and the lower half of his face, bound to the unblemished skin by silvery staples that seemed to spit steam. Three dotted piercings adorned his nose, and plenty more his ears. His wings reminded you of a bird’s with feathers and all, and they were a flat charcoal in colour, albeit they seemed a little worse for wear and severely burnt. The demon’s horns poked out from each side of his forehead and curled around like that of a ram’s. He wore a dark, simple cloak.  

You almost wondered if he had goat hooves for feet.

He looks down on the human who summoned him, literally and figuratively, it seemed. His eyes narrow viciously at the man, before jolting to you - and you, honest to all that exists, feel what you can only think of as a bolt of lightning course through every nerve - no, cell - of your body before it feels like your heart stops beating. You can feel the blood coursing in your veins, and it’s ice-cold, all of this forcing you to tense every muscle you’re able. He looks away and you’re instantly back to normal, slouching in your restraints.  

“Is this asshole bothering you, little one?” the voice of what’s clearly a demon rings.

“I-I beg your pardon, m’lord Dabi?” 

“Shut your trap, moron.” Clusters of the brightest, bluest flames you’d ever seen erupt above each of the demon’s eyes and he leans downward to grab the man by his neck, before easily lifting him in the air as the human choked. “Y’know, back in the day, sacrifices in some cultures were an honor. It was seen as a gift, a way to serve ancient -  nonexistent, mind you -  gods. People vied to become a sacrificial lamb. I’m ancient, too, you know that.”

The human man stammers and stutters, trying to say something coherent but failing out of fear.  

Dabi lets the man rest his feet on the ground as he jerks your captor to look at you, and you want to just shrink into yourself. “What the fuck is that, huh? Do you see the fear in her eyes? The bruises covering her body? The blood seeping down her arms as she fights against that rope? Does that look like a willing sacrifice to you? Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t think she is willing at all.”

You blink. What? How? Why?

“You piss me off.”

Dabi throws the masked man to the ground away from him, then raising his palm into the air and summoning flames to filter out of the ground. They swallow him hole, and whilst he’s screaming in agony and burning alive, the demon turns on his heel and saunters your way. “Well, this is quite a mess, eh, dear?” His eyebrows are pointed upward, almost as if the gentle tone behind his words is sincere, yet almost as if there is deviance behind them.

You can’t help but gulp at the look in his eyes. Smile and arch his brows as he might, he was still clearly a demon unfitting of your trust. Right? He was going to hurt you. Surely.

His hands reach up for your face and you shut your eyes tight and turn away.

Much to your surprise, fingers work away at the handkerchief splitting open your poor, stretched, and saliva-coated lips, and you nearly gasp at the relief of pressure on them, the ache in your cheeks quite apparent and downright agonizing. Not only that, but the corners of your mouth were rubbed raw, and you weren’t sure if there was saliva mixing with more saliva, or blood mixing with saliva at the site. Dabi drags a finger from the corner of your mouth up to your cheek to wipe away the tears staining your skin, and you have no strength to fight the shiver that runs up your spine as your eyes fall half-lidded.

“Fuck me, you’re lookin’ a bit worse for wear, little one,” you hear him coo. “Easy, babe. You’re alright. That ugly, scary man’s all gone.” He seems to chuckle at the irony, before a toothy smirk splits his lips. His teeth are sharp, certainly enough to puncture skin without much effort, and you shiver again.

You’re quickly relieved of your bounds, but with the little strength you have left, you’re not able to stand on your own and collapse into his chest, spent and sore. He’s warm. It’s... nice. Fuzzy. Cloudy. Soft. Where are you, again? What’s going on? Why is everything spinning?

Everything fades to black.

:·•·:

You groan and turn over in your bed, pulling the fluffy covers up closer to your head as your body ached. You were warm and settled in, nothing could make you leave the comforts of your bed, yet you knew you needed to. To explain the achy joints, you tried reminiscing the night before. You remembered that night. Parts of it, anyway. When you tried to remember the feeling of being bound or the blood trickling down your wrists, nothing came up. When you tried remembering the chanting of your captor - nothing. It seemed that any parts which could be deemed... unsavory were gone from your memory. You brought your wrists up and felt around them and-

Also gone were any wounds.

It was odd. You could remember it all happening, but at the same time, you couldn’t. Must’ve been some whacked out dream induced by the alcohol.

You had no want to, but you sat up in bed and reached over to your nightstand to switch he clock around so you could see it. It read about half an hour after midday, and you sighed. How long were you asleep? You picked up your phone from the nightstand and switched it on, your heart leaping into your throat at the amount of notifications. Texts, emails, calls, there were dozens upon dozens of them.

“How long was I asleep?!” you shriek.

“Enough to nearly get evicted.”

Your head jolts up so quickly you hear your neck crack, and you see the demon leaning against the wall in front of your bed. You can’t help but gasp and scoot away, your back banging against the headboard of your bed. It wasn’t a dream.

He waves his hand lazily. “But don’t worry, I got it covered. Congrats, you have free rent for life, now.” His wings, horns, and tail are all gone, and he almost looks human, save for the staples and scars. You guess he can’t change his appearance much. Perhaps he doesn’t want to.

The teeth showing off from his smirk look just as sharp as before, however.

Your eyes are drawn to the huggies piercing the cartilage of his ears. They’re as shiny and plentiful as you remember. Your heart rate spikes, and you begin to breathe heavily.

“That soreness is probably from you bein’ out so long, sweets,” he comments, arms crossed in front of his chest, his right ankle also crossed over his left. His voice is smooth and a clear attempt at comforting you - yet there’s something behind it.

“Th-thank you. For saving me, and... the rent... I guess.” You hoped he would leave if you thanked him. Why else would he stick around?

He only shrugs, though. “Sorry, little one, but you’re not special. That sacrifice wasn’t done right in the first place.”

‘Ouch!’

Ah, you remembered that, now. But you couldn’t remember his name.

“What’s your name?” you ask hesitantly. He’s obviously not going to kill you by now. Why would he stick around?

“Dabi.”

“That’s it?” You tilt your head. You were surprised at how... nonchalant you were beginning to feel about this. The longer he stood there, the more it felt normal.

“That’s it, dollface.”

:·•·:

He ended up not having goat hooves for feet.

You knew there was a catch to being saved by that demonic bastard.

Aside from the fact that he wouldn’t leave you alone, keeping a demon cooped up in your apartment wasn’t easy. It especially wasn’t easy when said demon was constantly on your heels, pressed right up against your back. Personal space was not in his vocabulary. Dabi was constantly up to something, and he loved to harass or scare your neighbors with his devilish form; it was just too easy. “What else have I got to do while you’re gone all day?” he’d say. “Gotta entertain myself, somehow, doll.”

Apparently, it had been a long time since someone had summoned him at all, let alone with an offering of some kind. He hadn’t seen the mortal realm in hundreds of years, and because you were offered to him, he decided to stick around you. You only agreed to it as long as he never left your apartment.

Well, technically. He wasn’t actually giving you a choice, he was going to stick around anyway. Dabi so loved giving innocent mortals the impression that they were in control when they never truly were. The demon practically got off on the idea of giving a helpless little thing like you a false sense of security.

Having him essentially stuck to your hip, you couldn’t let him cause any trouble with the human world, be it harmless pranks or downright murder; hence why you left a line of salt in front of every opening to your place one day, to keep him home. He was a curious demon, a sketchy one.

And a bit of a horny one, at that.

If the groping or peeking in on your showers wasn’t enough of a clue, the fact that he did everything else in his power to seduce you certainly was.

Demons don’t sleep. They’re immortal, they don’t need to. Yet, as you lay snuggled up in your bed at night, he always snuck in with you to poke and prod at you, the exchange usually ending with you kicking him out of bed - sometimes literally. Other times, he’d randomly lean into your ear and say the filthiest things you’d ever heard - and then some, obviously - to get a rise out of you, giving him the opportunity to tease you about unconsciously clenching your thighs, whether it was for friction or out of denial.

You were starting to think he was a damn incubus.

But no, he denied that. He looked almost insulted when you made the insinuation before explaining that incubi and succubi are one and the same, changing back and forth between male and female. First as a succubus, the demon collects... “seed,” and then transforms into an incubus to “plant” it. He could change his physical appearance if he so wished, but he never had much want or need to, save for hiding away or using his devilish form; nor could he procreate, he was so proud to tell you.

It seemed the fact that you were a virgin only spurred him on to seduce you. With Dabi being the vile and damned being that he is, you thought he wouldn’t give a damn (ha) if you consented or not at first. The thought was honestly horrifying. Yet not once had he forced you or went too far. It was “poor taste,” he once said, there being no fun in it. You wondered if his rule of consenting sacrifices played a part in his discipline.

And of course, Dabi would go on about how badly he, a demon, an unsavory being to say the least, wanted to be the one to take your virginity and “defile” you, “the pure, innocent treat that you are.”

Defile? Really?

And treat?

‘Pick better wording next time you sex-starved, pointy-tail-having, staple-wearing, horned son of a bitch,’ you thought sarcastically, shoving dishes into their proper places after having dried them. He’d left you alone for most of the day, talking to you and treating you like he was a normal human being. ‘Then, maybe I’d consider letting you get your dick wet.’

Would you, though?

Nah...

Right.

One of the plates was a little wet still, and managed to slip out of your hand and shatter on the counter in front of you. You yelped when a shard cut into your palm after you’d instinctively reached to catch the plate, failing miserably. “Dammit,” you mutter, holding your left hand up to inspect the cut. From the looks of it, no stitches were needed, but it still stung like hell.

You should’ve known better than to think he cooled his jets for the day, because in an instant he’s standing next to your left side and reaching for your wrist.

“It’s fine, just a tiny cut,” you mutter, quirking a brow as he seemingly glares at the wound. “I think I’ve got a first-aid kit somewhere... Have to keep it clean, at least.”

“Nah, don’t need it,” he mutters, before pulling your hand toward his mouth. His tongue slithers out from between his lips and drags along the cut in your palm, the wet appendage searing against your skin.

A shiver runs down your spine at the sensation, and yet another soars when you see the hungry, predatory look in his eyes, which are fixed on your wound. You can’t help the gulp that sounds from your tight throat, or the yelp that fights out of your lips when his whole mouth latches onto the fatty part of your thumb where the cut is. Your knees begin to feel weak and your eyes fall half-lidded.

Dabi sucks on the flesh there, licking the wound occasionally as well. His eyes then flicker to yours, and they burn into you like no other ever has. You feel the heat of a blush trail up your neck and to your cheeks and ears, your heart thrumming in your chest and lips slowly falling open just a tad as he licks away at the opening in your skin.

“Ah-“

The demon pulls away with a pop from one final suck of your flesh, whilst a trail of his saliva - do demons have saliva?! - hung between your hand and his mouth. “See? Take a look.” He pushes your hand towards your view, and amidst the clear wetness on your skin, you see no wound at all.

Your mind flips back to the wounds you should have had from that night.

“Back then... did you... y’know...”

“Naah. There’s spells and the like for bigger stuff like that,” he explains nonchalantly with a shrug. He almost seems proud of himself with his next line. “Tiny paper cuts like this can be taken care of with good ol’ fashioned demon spit. It’s nice, huh?”

You deadpan at him. “No, it’s totally gross.”

Dabi chuckles at you, waving a hand as if to wave you off. “Admit it. Your virgin ass enjoyed it.” His words are crass, but you know he’s only teasing and they’re not meant to insult.

Yet it still riles you up.

That heat crawls up your neck again, and you huff at him. “Shut up!” you gripe, then turning away from him to at least try to clean up the dish shards. There was nothing wrong with being a virgin! A lot of people wait for the right person, or they just aren’t ready. People have their reasons, and there’s no shame in it! Just like there’s no shame in being the opposite. As long as it’s healthy, that’s all that matters!

“Jerk! You seem to forget whose apartment you’re squatting in!” you grumble, scooting the pieces of the plate you broke together - ever so gently - with a washcloth from the sink. “I could kick you out, y’know.” You forgot for a short moment that he managed to achieve free rent for life for you, but you told yourself it wouldn’t matter anyway. It was still your apartment, after all.

“Really, now?” The demon scoffs, then leaning against the counter and crossing his arms - clearly at you. “How would you go about that, little mouse?” His tone is unconvinced and sultry, the look on his face painted with doubt.

You avoided eye contact with him and perused the kitchen for a plastic bag before marching back to the mess of plate shards and trying to sweep them off the counter and into the bag. “I’d exorcise you,” you mutter. Finding a priest in this area would prove difficult, but you could manage to find one willing to travel. You could do it if needed.

Dabi only laughs you off, though. The sound is smooth and velvety, yet you’re left to describe it as littered with smoke and ecstasy. “C’mon, doll! That wouldn’t work,” he says finally. “Besides, we both know you don’t wanna do that. You like havin’ my sorry ass around too much, eh?”

“Ha! You’re right about you being a sorry ass,” you sass with a huff before tossing the bag into the waste-bin.

Oddly enough, while you’d never tell Dabi this and end up stroking his already massive ego, you felt safer with him around. It was hard to pinpoint why. Nothing had happened for him to be called to protect you; however, you lived in a less than savory part of town, which wasn’t entirely unbearable, but shit still happens. And you’ve already been abducted once, leading to your acquaintance with this horny (I’m more ways than one) asshole. Maybe it was because you knew part of what he can do, all that aside. Push comes to shove, he’d protect you, right?

That was a nice thought to have, if a bit naive, you thought.

He was a demon, not a guardian angel of some sort. He had no obligations to you.

Yet here he was, still living with you over a month after that awful night.

Your thoughts are completely swept away when you’re pushed by the hips against the counter with your back to it, your hands instinctively bracing the edge on each side of your hips for support. The demon’s face is immediately in front of yours, his breath easily filling your nostrils with an ashen smell. You see those horns of his again and have to fight the urge to reach up and grab one, maybe even give it a tug. He’d probably cremate you for it.

Could he hear your thoughts? Previous instances somewhat insinuated that he could, but he never admitted to it - or denied it.

Dabi was right. You don’t want to get rid of him. Especially not when he’s looking at you like that. There is an intensity in those half-lidded, fiery eyes of his that has never before been directed at you by anyone, and it leaves you wishing you could read his thoughts. Are his eyes merely looking at your own, or are they bearing into your soul, calculating and appraising it?

What you can tell is that it’s full of impatience and want. Greed. Lust. And so much of it all.

You tilt your chin down a bit and look up at him with a gulp quietly. You can’t think of anything to say, and tension builds within your chest as you search; you feel as if that silence ought to be filled, yet here you are, at a loss for words as you stare at your own reflection in his glossy eyes. On the other hand, he seems totally content letting you lie in it, letting you squirm for him as he smirks.

And so you look away, bringing your hands to your chest and holding them there bashfully. The sleeves of your sweater are soft and warm and plush - just how Dabi would describe you right now.

This maneuver of yours not being what he wanted, Dabi scowls a bit and grabs your chin to essentially force you to look at him, his thumb ghosting over the softness of your lower lip. He tilts his head at you almost curiously, perhaps evaluating your reaction as it’s been so long since he has seen or felt the mortal world. Those eyes narrow at you, though not out of ire. Dabi’s thumb pokes at the crevice between your lips, and the rest of his fingers on your jaw tug downward.

Confused, you comply anyway and part your lips for him, only for his thumb to invade your mouth and press hard on your tongue, coaxing you to gag and instinctively grasp both hands on his wrist. You attempt to pull it away, to relieve the pressure in your mouth, but he doesn’t want that.

Hell, in reality, neither do you. You just don’t feel like gagging and clouding your vision with tears.

Aw, you poor dear.

With a contemplative hum he pulls his appendage out of your mouth and holds it not far from your mouth, as if planning another venture into your wet cavern. You can’t help but stare at the string of saliva still connecting your lips and his hand as it glistens in the low lighting of your kitchenette.

“Open back up for me,” he huskily demands, but it’s not cruel and dictating, so you comply, entranced as if under a spell. But you know you’re not. This time, it’s his forefinger and middle finger that roam between your teeth, and as if he had told you to do so telepathically, you close your lips around them. With an innocent, doll-eyed look, you suck his fingers and lick at them with your tongue, earning yourself hushed praises and a searing trail of touches up your ribcage and back down. You continue to lick away, occasionally wrapping your tongue around his digits or cradling them as you suck on them, coating them in your saliva as some of it trails out one of the corners of your mouth. They feel cold, as if there was a lack of circulation, and it only spurs you on to warm them with the toasty cavern of your mouth and soft plushness of your tongue.

You’re sure you’re less than apt at this, but the praise and touch you’re receiving helps you feel less... off.

Dabi leans in for your ear, his hot breath against your cartilage sending a chill down your spine before his wet tongue laps at it, and you jump in your skin at the burning, completely unknown sensation. It’s so hot it almost stings, but it’s not painful; tingly, maybe. In the process you lean away to your left a bit, at which he seems to pause. But then you lean back as if to tell him to go on, and you can nearly hear the simper he gives just before he latches onto your ear, licking and nibbling away as you tremble and whimper around his fingers. The heat at your core throbs in tandem with your racing heartbeat, creating a melody of your arousal that you hoped only you could witness.

But you knew better than to doubt the senses of a demon.

“You’re doin’ good, doll,” he breathes into your ear, aggravating the sound of blood flushing through your ears and the thump of your heartbeat. “Such a good girl for me...”

The digits in your mouth get a little adventurous and explore your wet cavern a bit, but they’re quick to push down on your tongue again and you gag around them. Tears start to pool within your eyelids and your whimper is stuck in your throat.

The demon then unceremoniously pulls his fingers from your mouth to reach down at the hem of your sweater and yank it up over the swell of your chest, leaving your torso and bra-covered breasts bare. Dabi seems to drink up the sight of you as if it were a sweet wine he hadn’t indulged in for centuries. Both his hands then trail ghostly fingers - really, they felt like spiders - up your belly and to your sternum. You shiver and a mewl fights out of your throat unexpectedly, your back arching unintentionally toward him as you clutch onto his forearms. Dabi lets out a hot breath, just thereafter his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your bra as he grinds his pelvis against yours, the outline of his hardened cock clear as day against you. You don’t even try to fight back the moan it elicits as your head droops back at the stimulation.

Why bother, right?

The inhuman entity before you takes the opportunity to use your open mouth, his own latching into yours and tongue exploring your mouth in a battle for dominance you have absolutely no hope to win as he makes a mushy mess of you. You accidentally lacerate your tongue on the sharp point of one of Dabi’s teeth and flinch a bit, the sting on your tongue nearly coaxing you to pull away while the taste of iron floods your mouths. That tase you could certainly live without only encourages him, as Dabi growls and grips the base of your neck to hold your head in place as he quite metaphorically devours your tongue with his own, before his teeth latch onto your lower lip and you squeak in surprise as he pulls away.

“Aw, what’s’a matter, little mouse?” Dabi taunts, left palm dropping to rub against your clothed sex.

“Ah, Dabi-!” You jolt at the sudden stimulation on your clit and breathe in hard. Even if there are a couple layers keeping his bare hand from touching you, if feels damn good to have someone else touch you like this. Ripples of warmth flood through you and you feel your body temperature rocketing. Your own breath feels as though it’s on fire as it leaves your heavily salivated mouth and bloody lips in rabid succession, alongside your increasingly rapid heartbeat. Your grip on his firm arms tightens and you resist the urge to grind against him as he continues his ministrations. “Fuck...”  Your lips throbbed, yet you weren’t sure if it was from the tiny wounds he created or your blood pressure spiking.

“Hm?” The demon hums, inquisitive and high in pitch - yet maybe condescending. “‘Fuck,’ huh?” His grip on the back of your neck relaxes only slightly before his tongue pokes out of his mouth and drags along your lower lip, lapping away at the blood pooling there and drawing a slight whine from you. “What about it? You sayin’ you want me to fuck you, doll? Tell me.”

Blood rushes to your face like there was a race and your eyes wander from his bashfully, instead choosing to look at the horns cutting through his spiky black hair. He’s right, you do, you have to admit it. But admitting it out loud was embarrassing! With a gulp you elect to simply nod, but his brows furrow and he’s clearly unimpressed considering the animalistic growl that claws out of his throat.

“Hey, I’ve been locked away from you humans for so long, y’know,” he breathes, his voice dark and low. “I’m a bit behind on gestures. You have to tell me.” This time, you can tell by the almost playful tone of his voice that he’s really lying and just trying to make you admit it aloud. Dabi’s palm leaves you before moving up to the waistband of your jeans while his other hand snakes up your neck and latches onto a fistful of your hair. “C’mon, say it. Where’s all that spunk from earlier? You’re all bark and no bite, little one.”

“Y-yes, Dabi. I... I want you to fuck me.” You finally meet his eyes again, and the hunger in them from before hasn’t faded at all; it’s only deepened. What else has changed was the hunger and arousal in your own eyes.

That smirk appears again and Dabi leans into your ear. “You want me to fuck you,” he parrots, “do you? You want my demon cock to take your virginity and fill you up? You want me to fuck you against this counter until your voice gives out? You’re a slut after all, little one. Beg like one, then.”

Your thighs clench together and you gulp. This was... not how you fantasized your first time to carry out. “Demon cock” was not something you’d ever thought you would hear someone say.

But who cares? Not you.

“Yes, please. Please!” You tug at his jacket in an attempt to coax him toward you, your knuckles turning white from your grip. “Please, fuck me with your demon cock...” Your this time voice is less loud and demanding, albeit it’s more desperate and pleading. “Please.” Your voice breaks this time.

Nor was it something you thought you would ever say.

A groan rumbles from Dabi’s chest. “Good little human. Keep it up, yeah?”

You squeak as he roughly yanks your sweater over your head before working to unbutton your jeans, his lips and teeth savoring your neck all the while. Your head cranes back again, a mute gasp leaving you at the sensation of his searing tongue on your recently sweat-slicked neck as his fingers work to remove your bra before they move onto yanking your panties down. At least, you thought he yanked them down, but a quick glance to the floor revealed he ripped them off, rendering them unusable.

“I liked those!” you whine, still panting.

“Tough luck. I didn’t.” It’s not like you need to wear panties around him anyway. He’d burn every pair you owned to mere ashes if it meant getting you to waltz around your apartment with no panties. They just got in the way.

“Daabi! Why would you-

“Oh god!”

You jump and thrust against Dabi’s hand when his fingers run through the slick of your soaked cunt, your breathing ragged, while he gathers the slick abundant there and edges toward your clit. His tactic coaxes ripples of pleasure that lull a low moan out of you.

“Ha,” he scoffs in your ear, “no gods have anything to do with it, babydoll.”

Dabi’s fingers finally work their way to your clit and circle around it a few times before rubbing in a steady rhythm around it. You moan at the combination of the bliss he gives you and the pet name, and your legs instinctively open wider for him as you mewl.

“I’m really not sure you are a virgin, doll,” he starts with a chuckle, “You’re fuckin’ soaked, you know that? Like a slut begging for my dick.”

“D-Dabi!” You flinch at the sinful words he’s spitting at you, embarrassed.

The demon’s digits leave your clit and trail back through your folds, and the wet, lewd sounds that result almost surprise you more than the fact that you want to fuck a demon. You buck your hips in hopes of encouraging his fingers back to your clit, albeit his other hand distracts you with a flick to your nipple, before it rubs circles over the sensitive nub as the rest of his hand palms at your tit.

“Ah, feels so good,” you find yourself muttering.

In response his ear seems to twitch. “Speak up.” His lips are sucking and nipping at your neck, either ignoring or enjoying the layer of sweat built up on your skin as the heat coming from his body begins to overwhelm you. Not that you mind either way. He’s definitely leaving a mark here and there as he works around your neck. Not that you mind either way.

“Your fingers... ah, feel so good!” Your head cranes backward, your hands dropping to the counter against your ass for support as your legs begin to feel weak. The shockwaves of pleasure his hands send through your nerves leaves you feeling weak and mushy.

“Good. Now hold still.”

You give a confused look, eyebrows pointed upward before you feel the tip of his digit poke at your weeping hole, eliciting a loud gasp from you when his finger plunges into your pussy with no reserve. You hiss at the sudden intrusion, you walls stretching pleasurably yet painfully as he slowly moves his finger around, letting you adjust. His other hand merely plays with your breast.

Biting your lip, you lean forward and plant your sweaty, flushed forehead on his shoulder. “Hey, it kinda hurts,” you whine.

“Just relax, doll.” Dabi’s voice isn’t as crass as it was before, nor is it entirely soothing. You figure he just doesn’t have it in him to coddle you, being a demon and all that.

You whimper as Dabi ever so slowly thrusts his finger in and out, the mixture of pleasure and pain not at all what you’d expected. When his finger hits a spongy spot, you jolt and moan for him, and he takes the opportunity to take over your mouth again in a wet, hurried kiss with a groan. Dabi swallows any and all sounds that you make, and in the process you feel the hand on your tit move downward to your hip before it swings around and wraps under your thigh to lift your knee up to his hip level. The muscles of your legs tensing and the choked moan in your throat tell him the pain is starting to very slowly fade away. At the realization, he carefully dips another finger into you and you moan, higher in pitch, into his mouth before he pulls away to stare at the sight of his fingers fucking into you for only a short moment. Dabi is then quick to shove his tongue back into your salivating mouth.

The lithe digits within your wet walls pick up pace gradually, giving you time to adjust and not barreling into you. By now there is still a barely-there stretch, and all the pain has essentially faded as the assault on your nerves takes place and you near an orgasm. Your eyes lull shut and your head cranes back, your hips almost thrusting involuntarily on his fingers as his pace keeps increasing and pushing you over the edge.

“I’m- ah, I think I’m...”

Dabi hums as if requesting you repeat yourself or perhaps simply acknowledging your sputtering, but you’re too busy moaning louder and and thrusting into the palm of his hand, to do so, as the coil between your legs tightens. His fingers graze over that same spot as before and you cry out for him, for which his fingers increase their pace even more rapidly and slam into that spot over and over and over again as he groans at the lewd, wet squelching resulting.

“Shit! I’m gonna cum, Dabi, I’m gonna cum!”

“Do it. Cum for me, babydoll.” His voice is much more authoritative and huskier, and as per Dabi’s demand you cry out almost loud enough for your neighbors to hear as your orgasm slams into you like a tsunami of pleasure crashing into your nerves. Your soft, hot walls convulse around his fingers in your release as he uses them to fuck you through your first orgasm of the night, with your hips still thrusting toward him uncontrollably as you go through your high and begin to climb down, panting.

Your head feels light in the best way possible and your legs are weak, so you whine lowly as he pulls his fingers from your heat with a pleased sigh. The second your legs give out, he catches you by the ribs before grabbing your trembling hips and lifting you onto the counter, with you latching onto him and holding tight all the while, your forehead on his shoulder and arms around his neck while your legs wrap around his hips.

Dabi drags the tips of his fingers up and down your spine, sending a jolt of calming, electric waves up your spinal cord as he repeatedly kisses your hair and ear on the side accessible to him.

“Atta girl,” he mutters into your hair.

Do you... thank him? He’s giving you a compliment, after all, right? Do you nod? Do you hum? You have the energy to do all three, but what response does he expect of you?

“I didn’t... do anything,” you mutter quietly, chest rising and falling in quick succession.

“Technically. Doesn’t matter because you will, soon.” He leans into your ear like he’s so fond of doing, his lips grazing your earlobe. “We’re not done, doll.”

Your legs twitch around him unconsciously, eliciting a deep, amused chuckle from the demon.

You see pointed pearly whites bear at you before he lifts you off the countertop and plops you down in front of him. Dabi’s hand squeezes your ass cheek, said hand then spinning you around to put your back to his chest. Searing breath on the back of your ear makes it twitch. “You’re wet and all, doll, but I’m not sure you’re wet enough,” he taunts, his hands splaying out on your abdomen and gently roaming around, fingers spread wide as they adore your body.

“For what?” Dabi’s chest against your back prevents you from turning around and giving him a confused look.

“My cock. What else?” he jabs.

Your curt reply is totally cut off and forgotten when you feel a wet tongue singe the side of your neck toward the back, and you gasp shakily.

“What to do, what to do...?” you hear Dabi whisper into your now-pebbled skin, his hands ghosting down toward your thighs.

“Oh.”

Remaining silent yourself, you could feel the damn lightbulb light up in the bastard’s horned head, but you didn’t know what exactly would entail.

Before you can ask what the hell he was on about, his fingers drove between your glistening  folds and prod around, as if measuring the lewd slick settling there. They quickly pull away after a quick hum from Dabi.

“Be a good little human and bend over, yeah?”

Without a word or thought against it you comply, bending over your countertop and leaning on your elbows a little. You gulp at the thought of your leaking cunt bearing for Dabi. You weren’t sure what he could see from this position, but you were a little embarrassed, nonetheless. With a gulp you shift your weight back and forth on your feet nervously.

Hands rub and palm at your ass cheeks as thumbs rub deeply into your flesh in a symphony of soothing touch. You sigh blissfully and spread your legs for the demon without realizing, but it’s over all too quickly when he instead moves your legs back together. You crane your neck to look at him. “Wha...?”

Wasn’t he going to fuck you from behind?

Suddenly the weeping tip of his cock slips between your thighs, gliding against your dripping cunt and through your folds. There’s no piercing despite his many others, though perhaps that was why he asked you to take him to a parlor not long ago.

Dabi’s cock manages to grace your clit and your body unwillingly jolts a little, still having been sensitive from your previous orgasm. A soft gasp leaves your swollen lips and you hear Dabi growl behind you while he pulls back from your ass end only to jut forward again. Legs beginning to tire out, you unconsciously spread them, only for his hands to push them together roughly.

“Don’t fuckin’ spread ‘em,” he hissed, hips holding still. The fingers on your thighs push deep with force sure to leave bruises while you hiss quietly at the stinging pain they bring to your nerves. But that sensation is quick to fade into something warm and euphoric yet electric and sensitive, causing your head to spin even though he’s not fucking your desperate pussy. He pistons his hips into your ass, and you mewl.

“That’s your last warning, fuck!” he grunts.

You nod vigorously, content with letting him fuck your thighs so long as he keeps grazing your puffy clit like this. His pace quickens and soon enough you hear loud skin slapping against skin, his hips jutting into your ass and balls pattering against the crevice between the soft flesh of your thighs. The quick pace and silkiness of his cock against your clit is euphoric, leaving you to wonder if it would be better than this if he were inside of you. Are you drooling? Your head droops lazily as you revel in pleasure.

The wetness and heat between your legs has increased several-fold, but it’s apparently not enough for Dabi. Your poor body rocks against the counter and your eyes are clenched shut, head fixated on the sensation of his cock grinding against your cunt and between your soft, drenched thighs. You weren’t sure if it was the position or your nerves going haywire, but your legs ached with a dreadful burn.

“D-Daaabi,” you whine pitifully, “my legs... aah, hurt...!”

A hand jumps to your navel and brings you back toward him to allow room for his fingers slithering to your cunt. Before they graze over your clit, they stop. “Cum for me, then,” you hear him command, voice deep and breathy and sending a chill up your spine. “Maybe when you’re done, I’ll take you to the bed and fuck you into the mattress. You’d like that, wouldn’t ya, doll?”

“Yes, b-but,” you suck in a breath when his hand envelops your tit, “‘maybe?’” You parrot the word desperately, your head going blank as you near orgasm.

“Mhm.” You can hear the smirk in it, and the sound of the hum rumbling in his chest is oddly euphoric for you to hear.

You hated having him behind you like this. All you wanted in the moment was to latch onto him and relish in his heat no matter how intense it would be for a mortal like you. You wanted to touch him, to be able to see him, and he was depriving you of it all - very likely on purpose.

Your moans and squeals get higher in pitch and Dabi evidently picks up on your cues, thrusting against your cunt faster and faster until your entire body tenses.

You cry out his name ever so quietly, yet before you can climax he pulls away and leaves you panting and weeping, a whine escaping your throat. “But you told me...!”

“Changed my mind.”

“You’re a jerk!” you half-gripe and half-whine, standing up to glare at him. “I was so... so close, you know! You better make it up to me!” You huff and puff from the intensity of almost cumming.

“You’re awful feisty when I’m not touching you,” he remarks cockily.

You’re going to regret saying what you said. At least, that’s what the look in his eyes tells you when he spins you around. It’s dark and already you shrink in front of him. The next thing you know, Dabi’s pushing you against the counter and mumbling something into you ear, that something being an incantation that sends a trickle of electricity though every nerve of your body. Suddenly you’re cumming hard as heavy waves of pleasure wrack your cunt clenching around nothing rapidly as whatever the demon used on you pushes you through your orgasm, your toes curling and lips shrieking, head falling back so fast it almost slammed into the cabinet if he hadn’t caught it. You don’t register that you had wrapped your arms around his waist until his hands grasp them as if holding you there.

“How’s that for makin’ it up to you, eh?”

With his voice pulling a moan out of you, your poor brain goes foggy and full and it spins within your skull as you pant away, your body feeling heavy. Dabi grabs hold of you and lifts you onto the countertop when it seems like your legs are going to give out. “Hey,” he mutters into your sweaty neck, “don’t tire out on me. I wanna fill that pussy up with my cum ‘til it’s dripping out.”

You feel heat rush from your heaving chest up your neck to your cheeks. “Stop... that! You pervert.”

Dabi chuckles at you. You weren’t prudish, you were inexperienced. “What? Stop what, hm?”

“Talking like... that.”

He only hums, though, and he’s not to comply with your request. “Ya know, if you weren’t a virgin, I’d take your ass, too. Or put you on your knees and shove my cock down your throat until you’re chokin’ on it. Fuck, you’d sound like an angel.” Dabi chuckles at his ironic comparison, seemingly proud of himself for it.

You shrink in front of him and shiver, the room feeling so cold. You glance at your bedroom door and he notices promptly.

“I’ll carry you, for a price.”

Your eyes flicker back to him and the simper he flashes you would’ve had you weak in the knees had you been standing.

“Like what, my soul?” It’s a slightly genuine, slightly snarky question.

“Your mouth.” Dabi waves a hand at your widened eyes. “Not tonight. Maybe next time. You won’t know up from down and I don’t feel like playing teacher more than I already am.”

The demon doesn’t wait for your snarky remark before he picks you up and lugs you to your bed. You let out a noise when he literally drops you onto the mattress, your form bouncing atop it before he pins you to the bed roughly, so quickly you get dizzy. He dips his hips between your legs and spreads them wide while his mouth delves into the crook of your sweat-coated neck to let him begin suckling and leaving stinging marks with sweet, little kisses peppered in between.

It seems he’s suddenly gone soft on you, but it won’t last, even if you don’t know it.

Your back arches against him, ready to finally feel his torrid body against yours so that you can relish in his warmth despite the fact that your body was soaked in sweat; you wanted so much more, you needed it. Your next moan is dealt without a care who can hear, and thereafter with you wrap your arms around his neck tightly. Dabi grabs your hips and squeezes the plump flesh before his hands roam down your thighs to your knees as he hikes your legs around his hips, with you far too eager not to comply.

“Dabi,” you breathe, and he hums with one of his hands still on your hip as the other supports his weight by your shoulder. “Kiss me. Please.” Your voice is desperate and needy, and you’re starting to think this is more than lust pushing you on.

Had he used another demonic spell on you?

When Dabi complies, his hips grind against you to allow his hardened cock to nudge the folds of your glistening pussy.

This time around, with his tongue prodding in your mouth at a slower, more passionate pace, you catch on and realize he has a tongue piercing. Your walls clench at the thought of what it would feel like licking stripes up and down your soaked cunt, wondering whether it would be cool to the touch or searing hot due to his body temperature.

Searing hot would be the answer, though you don’t know that as of now.

The demon grinds against you as he devours your mouth with his own, his weeping cock sliding through your your wet folds. On the other hand you’re careful not to cut your tongue on his teeth again, albeit he wouldn’t complain if you did; if anything he’d encourage it. Your hands splay on his hot back, and you wonder that if leaving them on his searing skin for too long will burn you. If it gave you the opportunity to roam your fingers over his muscles and caress the staples, goddamn would it be worth the burns. With a sigh into his mouth your hands move from his back to grab onto those horns you’d thought about, your grip gentle yet exploring as you try to focus on feeling the rough texture of them.

Dabi pulls away from you to pepper open-mouthed kisses among your jawline, growling all the while. “What’re you doing?” he brusquely asks between the wet gestures, and you croon. His voice was so rough and gravelly while the gestures were soft and... sweet. You almost dare to say it was heavenly.

“Just feelin’ ‘em, babydoll.”

You throw his pet name back at him purposefully, and the mockery elicits a dark chuckle from him. Ever so slowly, you were beginning to learn how to be more brazen. You were getting comfortable with him on this intimate level. You’d already been comfortable in some way with him living forcibly in your apartment for over a month, but not on this level, not like this.

The stapled hand on your leg disappears before it reappears in your hair and gives a pull - not a yank - to tilt your head back and further expose your neck. You expect him to ravage it with his mouth like earlier, but he stopped to admire his apparent handiwork. You can’t see the marks he’s left, albeit he’s apparently satisfied as he smirks.

“What’re you doing?” you mimic him playfully.

“Thinkin’ about how I want you, of course.” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

In response, you huff at him.

“Let’s see,” he begins, moving closer to you, his breath fanning the lower half of your face as his eyes bore into your soul, “chest up against the wall, or on your hands and knees... hell, maybe just your knees...” He moves down so that his breath reaches just under your jaw, his eyes still staring intensely up at you while his hand slithers to your tit, rolling the hardened bud under his finger and you mewl. “...could always put you in a mating press and fuck you like a bitch in heat... I might even let you get on top, if you’re a good girl. Decisions, decisions, eh?”

“What,” you huff, “you mean, with all that whoring and harassing you did, you never thought this through?” You mirror his smirk with your own quirked brow while you rub the horns on his head, thoroughly enjoying their soft yet rippled texture.

“Oho, that’s the problem, doll. I’ve thought about it too much.” Dabi’s teeth put on a show for you to see from his widening smirk. Next thing you know, his fingers are pinching and tugging your nipple roughly for the first time and you keen under him from the shock before his wet mouth matches onto your other tit, tongue lulling over the bud. You mewl and flick your head back, chest heaving in your panting as you feel him suction onto your plump skin and suck away with a sopping, hot mouth, his low sigh into your skin blissful.

Your hands drop to his shoulders as a result of the distraction his mouth brings. Demonic saliva coats your tit and glistens in what little silvery moonlight filters through your blinds, all while you feel the pull of your leg over his right shoulder and prodding at your weeping heat with the tip of his cock.

“Ya know what?” he murmurs into your skin, “I wanna see these lovely tits of yours bounce.” With his other hand he guides the tip in and gives a moan at how warm and slick the entrance of your cunt is around him. And tight as hell, too. Of all the summons he could’ve answered, he answered the one that, unbeknownst to Dabi, lead to you, just on a whim. And fuck, if it wasn’t worth it.

You whine and writhe underneath him, needy as can be, as your entrance clenches around the head of his cock.

“Use your words, babydoll.”

You groan at him. “Just please hurry up and fuck me!”

“Your wish is my command...” Dabi’s voice is full of tease and mockery, which makes you want to bite his tongue.

Without any warning he sheaths his cock all the way into you as a groan escapes his throat, and you jolt at the sensation of suddenly being so goddamned full, your lustful gasp resonating off the walls of your bedroom. That one hard pump of his hips sends a wave up pleasure through your nervous system and the stretch of your tight walls leaves you wanting more. He’s much longer and thicker than his fingers, and you can’t help your cunt clenching around him like it does. The subconscious movement has Dabi groaning and panting out as you clench on his cock, and he still can’t help but relish in how fucking worth the wait you are.

That stretch of your cunt is back again, sweet and sinful as before. His cock brushes against all the right places, filling you up perfectly and having you drool for more.

Dabi holds still at least, though you can tell it won’t be for long.

“So goddamned tight,” he spits through his teeth against your neck, fighting the demanding of every cell in his body to fuck you like a rabid animal. Dabi’s hot breath fans over your neck, his teeth clenching as a result of your tightness around him.

His hips slowly start pushing and pulling to gently thrust his throbbing cock in and out of you, slowly letting you adjust before he can pick a normal pace.

...is what you thought he would do.

But nay, he begins with slow and agonizingly yet blissfully hard thrusts into your wet core, his grunts being drowned out by your wails and mewls as he slams into your sopping cunt. The lewd sounds of wet skin slapping slowly against skin and hot squelching mixes into it all, creating a melody of sin only you and Dabi share, that only the two of you can hear.

You were definitely going to hell, by now. But hey, good dick seemed worth the eternal damnation. Right?

With one particularly hard thrust, Dabi bites into the crook between your neck and shoulder, unexpectedly not breaking the skin, eliciting a cry from your parched throat and your eyes shut tight. The teeth latching onto your skin feel less sharp and more human, as he’s morphed them not to tear into your flesh and draw blood. He’d never hear the end of it for getting blood on your sheets, he knew that. Besides, if he wasn’t careful it would kill you.

He doesn’t want that happening again. Ugh. That was a godsforsaken mess - literally.

With every pounce of his hips, your tits bounce on your chest like he set out to do and he was sure to take in the sight of it all very well, having waited over a month for it. The smarting pang you felt earlier when his fingers fucked you is completely gone by now, leaving you to writhe and thrust your own hips from the overwhelming fucking of your senses.

“Dabi, Dabi!” you sob, your thoughts blending together until nothing but the demon inside of you remains in your consciousness. Your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders, drawing a thick, black liquid in the deep crescents, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Words, babydoll,” he breathes out, emphasizing the first word with a thrust. “C’mon, you know better.” He groans above you.

A yelp and another, higher in pitch slap of skin resonates within the room amidst the wet, sloppy ones and his grunts, but it doesn’t register that he’s slapped the underside of the thigh perched on his shoulder until you feel the pulsating sting that scatters through your leg. The yelp was apparently yours.

“Faster!” Your voice is devoured by a whiny tone and squeals that fight out of you, but it’s drowned out by the rhythm of his hips against yours.

Another slap hits your senses, and you cry out, tears flooding your eyelids. All you need is a little push.

“So fuckin’ demanding... Where are your manners, little mouse?” His lips are on your ear again, almost as if threateningly. “I’d be a little more... ngh...  polite if I were you.” The covers bunch and roll under your body when it’s slid back against them from the hardest thrust he’s graced you with yet, the process bringing a shriek out of you and shock as a result of his hitting that special spot after angling his hips just right and causing your poor head to spin. With Dabi then yanking you back to where you were with the hand on your thigh above the reddening cloud of flesh, you croon underneath him as he stops fucking your dripping wet heat altogether. You’re left to stare into his fiery blue eyes directly while hot breaths flood out of you in rapid succession. His nose almost touched yours, and the look in his eyes tells you he’s dead serious.

“Hate to break it to ya, but you’re at my mercy, doll. If I don’t want you to cum, you won’t.”

“Nonono, I’m sorry! Please! Please! I’m sorry!”

A cross between a hum and growl leaves his throat, and you shrink underneath him.

“‘Please,’ what?”

“Go faster, please!”

Dabi’s teeth are on your neck again when he picks up his thrusting into you, increasing in speed and fucking your sopping pussy like you had requested. With his hands on your hips, the demon mutters praises and moans into your neck and you sputter incoherent gibberish when you’re not gasping for air and squealing and bawling out from his almost inhuman, blissful pace. The leg wrapped around his waist clenches as hard as you’re physically able as he slams into you, and while your senses are being ravaged and brutalized, you hear faintly those wet squelching noises and the sounds of metal and wood creaking. You weren’t sure if the thrumming in your eardrums was your heartbeat or your headboard hitting the wall, but the thought of the latter rolled your eyes into the back of your head. Dabi angles his hips just right and smacks his cock into that oh-so-special spot within your soft cunt, and the jolt of pleasure and utter bliss that results brings you back to reality momentarily - yet still somehow throwing you out of your mind.

“Right there! Dabi! Oh, fuck!” You sob with a slur, your hands grasping and clawing at his back desperately. Incoherent garbling follows thereafter, and Dabi doesn’t even try to decipher it even if it is silk against his ears.

The fingers gripping onto your hips are so tightly embedded into your skin, Dabi’s sure they will leave round little bruises in their wake and he relishes in the idea, but the sting they bring you feels so damned good, you welcome it, too. The tension that builds within your cunt keeps building and building, your hot walls clenching around Dabi as you near carnal release. You’re close, so fucking close to the height of true bliss, your moans getting higher and higher in pitch as your back lifts off the mattress without you willing it. You feel that familiar tingle before-

It stops.

You sob at the utter emptiness and lack of release, your head spinning.

The ancient bastard denied you of your orgasm.

Chest heaving up and down in your panting, your wordless whine and protest at the emptiness you can feel is seemingly ignored by Dabi. The lack of warmth at your pulsating core is almost... cold. So cold.

“Wh-why...?” you whine.

The demon lets out a breathy groan. You can feel him dip his lips to your collarbone and smirk. “Just ‘cause.”

Quickly the demon sits back on his haunches and your arms droop off his shoulders. Dabi blinks at you with his hand holding your ankle to his shoulder, all the while staring you down with an intensity that has you feeling small, like an ant before an elephant. You’re so vulnerable and naked under his unwavering gaze, it’s nearly frightening. There’s something in his eyes you haven’t seen before. It’s soft but it’s predatory. He drinks in the sight of you leisurely.

You know damn good and well blood is rushing to your face, your hot breaths leaving you in weak puffs.

“Aren’t you precious?” you hear him remark with a toothy smirk. “Just for me. Right?”

You nod.

Demonically slitted eyes narrow at you darkly. “Say it, then,” he demands.

“Just...” you pant, “for you.”

Dabi’s hand pulls your ankle off him and puts your foot flat against the bedding next to his knee as he looks down at you. The moonlight striking the vibrant color of Dabi’s eyes is breathtaking, if your breath could be knocked out of your lungs further. It almost forced you to liken the sight with tinted ice, with icy waters off Iceland or perhaps glacier-dwelling seas of the Antarctic. And yet, you knew better.

The sight before Dabi was more than he’d expected, albeit just as sinful. Seeing you splashed out in bed, sweating and panting and dripping in your own essence just for him drove him wild. You were so adamant against fucking him, about retaining your innocence and saving it for the “right” person, in the beginning. And yet now, you let him do as he pleases and he didn’t doubt it would be the first time. He knew better.

“Get on your hands and knees, love.”

That was a first. “Love?” You like it more than the several others. It was smoky and gravelly and breathy all once.

Without your knowing your eyes soften and you grin the tiniest grin at the demon, knowing he won’t return the favor and be as gentle and sweet with you. He’s quick to quirk a brow at you, but you turn on your side to maneuver your body around and comply with Dabi’s command. Your breath has evened out by now, as you prop yourself on your elbows with your ass pointing out to Dabi, weeping cunt ready to be filled. It was embarrassing being on display like this again. You glance back at him with curious eyes, only to be met with silence and what felt like a dark presence. He’d gone cold on you.

You feel a hot hand on the nape of your neck and swear on whatever god you used to believe that your skin sizzled for a bit, while another lands on your left hip as his cock presses up against your folds and slithers through between your legs a couple times, gathering the slick of your essence - as if it needed to! - before he delves into your pussy once again. You croon in front of him, and the moan that comes out of Dabi has you clenching around his cock for the countless time. He mutters something untranslatable to you and pushes down on your nape, easing you face-first into the mattress. Your bedding was so soft and warm from your own body heat. Maybe it was leakage from the demon’s body temperature, you weren’t sure. Maybe it was a mix of both, intermingling like perfectly-cut pieces of a puzzle.

With a sharp moan, Dabi bottoms out in you, your mewls being swallowed by the bedding pressing against your cheek. You sigh into plush warmth, but the soft and gooeyness you feel is quickly torn away by a harsh snap of Dabi’s hips. Your gasp is cut through by a squeak from your throat, only urging him further as you already feel that coil tightening and readying to snap. You feel him shift a little against you, and you try to glance at him as much as you can before he begins thrusting into you again. That hard but slow pace makes its appearance for a short while, and hot damn is it heavenly. You moan and whine completely unabashedly. The walls of your apartment were thin and cheap, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

It was just an effect he had on you.

So what if your neighbors knew your were getting railed by a demonic being from ages past?

He certainly wanted them to know.

Dabi’s pace picks up again and you already feel the ripples of pleasure soaring through your body from your clenching cunt, your grip on the fabric underneath you tightening as you fight back the urge to bite into it. Even the lewd slaps of his hips against your ass are louder and quicker, and fuck aren’t they wetter. Dabi himself seems proud of this.

Your breathing quickens and your lungs almost burn like the hand on the back of your neck, your keening and sobbing getting higher in pitch and filled with rushed air. His thrusts only seem to get deeper and harder, if it were possible, and your eyes close shut tightly as your body trembles. Dabi adjusts his hips and continuously hits that oh-so-sweet spot that makes your head cloud over totally, his head falling back at the way your pussy hugs him tight.

“Dabi!” you sob. “Don’t stop, please!” Your wording is heavily slurred and slightly hushed from the impact of his fucking your nerves and your cheek being pushed into the bed, but you manage, nonetheless. You can’t fight back the drool that droops out the corner of your mouth.

The demon chuckles. Dabi could hear you say his name like that for a thousand years straight and it wouldn’t be enough. “S’pose you’ve been a good girl, babydoll. Go on, I’ll let you cum.”

The hand on your neck moves to your shoulder and soon enough, your chest and face are removed from the sheets, albeit you’re still on all fours as he fucks into you. Thereafter you feel the piping heat of his chest against your back, a crude reminder of the seven layers of arson Dabi’s capable. His hand holds you still while he continues to wrack your body with thrusts into your wet heat. You feel his fingers rub and circle your clit after a torrid hand snakes around your ribs and down your navel, and the pace of Dabi’s fingers is almost in beautiful tandem with his fucking as he hits that special spot over and over and over again. You can feel your essence flowing down the insides of your thighs like you thought wasn’t even possible, pussy dripping onto your bedding.

Ah, fuck.

With a lustful shriek, your spongy walls convulse around his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm, your vision going white as your eyes roll into the back of your head and your body rocks back and forth, legs twitching and torso shuddering. It takes almost everything Dabi has not to cum then and there, his hiss and loud growl being evidence of that. You just feel so good, why wouldn’t he want to cum now? But no, that would be a treat for you later.

Your clutch on the bedding underneath is as tight as you’re fully capable, and your knuckles turn white while you revel in your own personal bliss, courtesy of whatever the hell Dabi is. The intensity of it all has your head spinning and body pulsating. Poor body beginning to come down from the fierce high, you wondered if Dabi would stop and let you bliss out - but nay; he continues to fuck you like an animal and abuse your clit while you cry it all out. You were drenched in sweat, your cheeks flooded with tears you didn’t know were there until now.

“Too much, too much,” you squeak quietly, so quiet you’re not even sure he could hear you. But maybe it was incoherent. Maybe you were babbling and drooling like a fucked out hole at this point. Was it getting overwhelming? Yes. Did it feel ungodly good? Fuck yes.

“You’re so fuckin’... wet, though,” he pants, before slowing down slightly. “I think you’re playing innocent. You like this, ah, don’t you?” Dabi groans as you continue to flutter, sensitively, around him. “You want me to fuck you stupid, to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore, right?”

Dabi chuckles at your lack of response and continues to ram into your soaking heat with your cries and squeaks only urging him further. An attempt to glance at Dabi is mostly thwarted by the pace he’s taken on, or maybe it’s because everything’s spinning - or is it the tears flooding from your eyelids - you manage to meet his icy, slitted eyes once, which prompts him to poke kisses at your nape and behind your ear. You feel that familiar warmth in your entire pelvis, you cunt clenching down on his cock as the waves of pleasure intensify.

“Dabi, I- nnn, it’s too mu-much,” you whine. “Please.”

“Nah, you’re okay, babydoll,” he drawls cockily, voice gravelly and breathy enough to make you cum on command. “I think you’ve got a few more for me, don’t you? C’mon.” He makes a point to hit your g-spot harder than before after he’s done talking, and goddamn does it take the air out of your lungs. You choke on your own spit when you feel that piping hot hand patted against your asscheek repeatedly.

Your shriek and wet slopping fills the room as you cum yet again, albeit this time the pressure on your nerves feels different - smoother, warmer - and the tingle in your belly is intense as your scream feels like it claws at your throat until it bleeds. Your thighs are drenched in your juices, cunt twitching and clenching in the aftermath of your mind-splitting pleasure. You mumble and whimper as he finally slows down and gives you a sliver of mercy, both of his hands now holding you up by your hips when your torso slowly droops down like it was before. Dabi chuckles behind you quietly as he comes to a halt.

“You good, doll?”

He’s definitely not sincere.

Your eyes squeeze shut and you heave and pant, the fabric in your fingers wrinkling in their grasp.

“Oi, you can’t quit on me now,” he demands. “I haven’t cum yet and I gotta make you squirt again.”

Trying to get a whole, solid word out was a struggle as a result of your heavy breathing and the overstimulation. Your head was fuzzy and the room was spinning like a damn typhoon, and for a split moment you thought you’d fallen unconscious. What spills out is garbled nonsense.

The demon hums that inquisitive hum again, urging you to speak.

You lift your cheek off the bed slightly, as you’re able. “Will...”

You’re not sure why, but the thought of Dabi skipping off after taking your virginity so unceremoniously rang into your thoughts, giving you a sense of loneliness and anxiety. Why, though? Why now?

“Huh?” He leans in so close, his horn bobs off the side of your head when he arches over you to put an ear to your lips. “Try again, love. Go on.” He sounds quite intrigued, probably the most you’ve heard him.

“Will you... hah, leave... me?”

The grin against your neck is dark.

“Whaddya mean, little mouse?”

His voice was downright excited. You were worth the wait. How long had it been since he’d had a human so obedient, so innocent yet so easily corrupted? You were his, now - whether you liked it or not was irrelevant. But he knew you would. Dabi had grown on you far more than you’d ever admit, he knew that for a fact. You were clearly enjoying yourself now, anyway. And it didn’t take magic to do all of this, save for one here and there to coax you to enjoy yourself and to bring out subconscious feelings. Like right now. You felt these things, he just amplified them to an unbearable extent. Whoops. You poor thing.

“Don’t go.”

Eyes half-lidded and droopy, you turn your head to look back at the demon, only to be met with sharp teeth shown off in a naughty grin. You blink once and you could’ve sworn you saw an image of a black, smoky aura surrounding him.

“If you can handle me, dear.”

You nod against the bed slowly before trying to push your ass against him with what little stability you have. Even if his cock was still buried in you, without any movement you felt empty and... alone.

“I thought it was too much?” he quips, hand rubbing at your reddened ass cheek in a way you have to describe as soothing. It felt so silky and mellow. Yet you knew he was far from that. “Well? I thought you were bitchin’ out on me like the virgin you are.”

“In... insi... inside,” you sputter shyly, mental clarity not quite returning, albeit you manage enough to think of that at least. You want him to cum inside, to know what it feels like to be stuffed full of his cum, to feel his cock twitching inside after his release. “C-um.”

You never would’ve thought about that before you met him. Why would you feel this way?

“Aw, what is it?” The hum that results from his scarred throat is dark. “You want me to cum inside right now? I’m not sure you’ve earned that yet.” His voice is bastardly and maybe even a little teasing, and he sighs almost happily at your squirming. “Asking me to cum inside like that the first time you get fucked - such a whore. Have I fucked you stupid already, doll? Shame, I thought you’d hold out better than that.” Dabi clicked his tongue and shook his head, though you can’t see. “Broken so early. Guess there’s no point in me stickin’ around after all, huh?”

A noise sounds from the back of your throat in protest and nearly unbeknownst to you, drool slithers out the corner of your mouth. Dabi seems to ignore your noises as his hands adjust your hips, giving you enough friction to elicit a whine from your lips. You can’t register this at the moment, but Dabi was a victim to his own whims and could be a mix of soft and downright mean in the bedroom, and there’s no telling which will arise. Sometimes he’ll want skin against skin, tongue lashing against yours, fiery pleasure; sometimes he wants to insult you and lash his hand across your ass cheek, leaving bruises or drawing blood wherever he can.

“I was gonna make you convince me,” he breathes, slowly thrusting. “But considering you’re still conscious, I think that’s enough.” Dabi chuckles behind you. Well, you were only conscious as per his meddling. He was the one keeping your consciousness pulled to the surface, preventing you from letting go of reality and passing out. “You’re most welcome to cry and beg, though, babydoll.”

Hell, that list was half-checked off. Tears stained your cheeks and blurred your vision already, and the more he fucked into you, the more they fluttered out. Your lungs burned at this point, a searing heat cutting through your chest. Anything you try to say comes out incoherently, a sputtered and garbled mess, when it’s not a pitiful sob.

You push your hips back against him in an attempt to fuck yourself on his cock while Dabi fucks your puffy cunt, drawing a condescending chuckle from him. The jolt of overstimulation beckoned you to crawl away and relieve yourself of him, but the need to have him thrusting and cumming inside you overcame it. His release and what it would feel like to have his cum mixing with your juices and dripping out of you was all you could think about, as if entranced in a spell that bound your consciousness to that one thing. The rest of your thoughts were jumbled and incoherent even to you, the drool trickling out your mouth and the rolling of your eyes into the back of your head representative of that.

As Dabi watched your pussy envelop him, he couldn’t help but envision his name carved into your asscheeks with a sharpened claw of his. Ah, the squeals and squeaks that crawl out of you would be divine in the most sinful way possible, and the threads of blood that would trickle down your skin would taste head-spinningly beautiful. Maybe next time. Dabi’s jaw clenched at the throb of his cock within your sputtering, velvety walls, the tightness in his abdomen building. Just one more...

“Fuck, little one...!”

As the demon drags sharp claws up your thigh and asscheek, it leaves red ribbons in its wake and the squeeze of your cunt and pitiful squeal tells him well that you’re enjoying it far more than you ever thought you would.

“Such a good fucking human... good fuckin’ hole,” he grunts, voice strained. His hand plants on the middle of your back and pushes hard, bowing your poor back as his other hand keeps your hips up, his cock ramming into you at a faster pace. Dabi lets out a loud groan when he sees the blissed out, tear-stained, drool-covered face of yours before his thrusting loses rhythm and he suddenly feels your pussy flutter around him hard in orgasm again, soaking him in your slick again. Finally he allows himself to find the release you’d internally begged for, fucking into you at a less than rhythmic pace as his own mind begins to become overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Ah, shit. Fuck, fuck, motherfucking-!”

Dabi soon finds his teeth embedded into your flesh and gripping it hard enough to leave a bruise or even cut into the skin as his hips move entirely on their own against you. With a strained moan he cums, thick, warm ropes of cum painting your fluttering, sensitive, and overstimulated walls as you literally cry and sob underneath him, his hips still involuntarily thrusting into you as your cunt milks him for all he’s worth.

“Fucking hell,” he bites out, body relaxing against yours as he comes down from the high, yet he doesn’t pull out. “I missed this.” His voice is breathy and littered with pants against your neck. Dabi leaves a few wet kisses to it before leaning back and slowly pulling out with a groan, leaving you empty and dripping before him. He watches as his cum begins to trickle out but is quick to gather it with his fingers and push it roughly back into your pulsating cunt.

“Atta fuckin’ girl.”

Your poor head spins and you don’t know up from down, so Dabi ushers you to lay down and before he knows it, you’re passed out asleep. Eh, he’ll consider aftercare next time maybe. With a yawn that’s more out of sudden boredom than it is exhaustion, Dabi lays down next to you and props his head up with his hand, leaning against his elbow as he watches you sleep peacefully, a complete contrast to a few mere minutes ago. With a smirk he wipes the tears off your cheeks. Those cheeks...

“I oughta answer sacrifices more often.”

[allandoflimbo]

Ashens (Part 7)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 4,235 words 

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

Chapter Summary: Some of Bucky's inner feelings towards Y/N gets revealed on their first day on their own.

Full Masterpage | Part 6

STEVE was the one who tightened your velcro backpack around your small shoulders.

You continued to stare into the rising sun behind the blowing trees. It must’ve been a little after 5 AM, since the orange clouds were beginning to mix in with the dark blue of a new sky, announcing the arrival of a brand new day.

Today was the first day of your mission with Bucky, and to say you were fixated on your ultimate goal was an understatement.

The camp didn’t have a running shower, but they had a secluded and private area off to the side that provided warm water and some soap made with lye and lard. The water had to be heated up overnight by an attended fire and then left for an hour before you had to get ready to let it cool down.

When one of the girls had handed you the freshly made bar, the look she gave you scared you.

She had a certain fear in them that you couldn’t quite place and it shook you to the bone.

Was she unhopeful for your return?

When you had entered the little shower, which was just four pieces of wood tall enough to cover your most intimate areas, and you dunked your mud cup into the warm water, you definitely felt like you were being prepared like a sacrificial lamb.

You felt like you were being cleansed and prepared for death.

But as you rinsed away the lye off your skin, and you shuddered against the cold winter air which was beginning to feel like sharp knives, you quickly shoved those thoughts away.

You had to focus on your goal and what it was you were actually being prepared for. This was your opportunity to give your parents what they deserve; the outcome they would want.

After your shower, you quickly dried yourself off with a long and grey rag that had been draped over the “door” for you, and you slid your arms into your heavy coat.

Quickly, to avoid getting the flu that could potentially kill you faster than any other virus ever could, you ran into your tent and slid on your attire.

It was the same one you had worn before you arrived, but Jessica had been extremely kind to you and had it washed and folded stacked neatly next to your cot.

After you zipped on your boots, Steve had shown up and ran the information with you before your departure.

None of you knew exactly how life in The Capitol was.

There had been just one agent who had ever been close enough, and it had been about a year ago.

Bucky had sent Sharon to collect information that would be vital to help their mission, including how the people in The Capitol dressed, how they wore their hair, how they behaved, and if they used any kind of special currency.

Apparently, the clothing they wore, you would have to buy when you got there. It would be possible for the camp to try and knit them so that when you arrived you would fit in right away, but unfortunately, it would not protect you during the three-day walk to get there.

There was nothing different regarding hair or currency, which was a very helpful piece to learn. It meant you and Bucky would not need to go under any crazy makeovers.

Any specific makeup look or hairdo you preferred, you were free to do as you pleased when you arrived.

The only tricky part of getting into The Capitol and not being caught was your identification.

Anyone who resided within The Wall carried a hologram ID that presented your picture, name, resident number, and occupation.

If there was anything Tony Stark left behind, it was his knowledge and technology that had been left behind and protected.

You don’t know how they managed to save nearly all of it from the war and the bombing, but you didn’t ask questions. It didn’t surprise you that the avengers would go through such measures to have a legacy and vital equipment protected.

It had been just enough for Bruce to take it into his own hands and build an almost identical replica of the hologram ID that you and Bucky would need to present in order to do simple tasks like request a hotel room or enter an important building.

You didn’t take Bruces’ hard work for granted; apparently it had taken almost a year and a half just for him to make them.

It would still be a risk when you used your identification because even though your resident number was chosen with an advanced Linux method if it were to hit a miss in Hydra’s system, you and Bucky could be screwed.

Your arrival in the city would simply be accepted by luck.

Steve continued to tighten your backpack as he reminded you of what would happen when you and Bucky both arrived there.

First and utmost important, you would need to find a place to live. According to Sharon, there was a residency area not too far from the center of the city. You would go there and try to get a room.

Next, you and Bucky would need to discover your surroundings.

What was Hydra doing there? Where is Hydra’s main building? Were there anyone there that could possibly be there against their will? How did The Capitol work? What was life there like?

You would then need to set up your false identity, which would be the majority of the mission.

Once you both found where Hydra’s main focus was and from where they worked, you would need to find your way in. You would need to gather as much intel and information about everyone as much as you could.

That is when the team had presented you with an additional ID card, except this one was physical and just a regular white laminated card.

It was a resumé and well thought out employment card, which you and Bucky would use to apply at a Hydra Facility (but not the same one to not induce suspicion). This was an important key to the mission that both you and Bucky were reluctant on participating on, but after much consideration, it was concluded it was essential to winning this.

After you found out everything you both needed to know, after the six months, you would both escape and return to camp with the intel and information gathered that could successfully bring The Capitol’s society down.

One of them being the ring leader’s location. It would be important to the mission to not have anything destroyed, especially The Wall.

This was the part of the mission you did not like.

Because you would not leave The Capitol without having that man from the diner killed.

Part of you felt bad for secretly planning how to divert the avenger’s plan, but at the same time, you now knew that Bucky was also planning something that could potentially shock everyone.

You considered saying something to Steve as he made sure you had everything in your pack - food, blankets, med kit, and a gun with a silencer (the only thing you were allowed) - but you went against it as you remembered your promise to him.

He wanted you to help Bucky love himself again and to feel like he was meant for something more.

As you both walked out of the tent and fully into the outside world, right away you saw Bucky already strapping his own bag over his shoulder.

You know his bag held the same things yours did, except his held a military gun that would serve to protect you during the walk.

Unfortunately, you would not be allowed to take any weapons with you into the city. They would be left dug into a hole and abandoned.

Your heart skipped in your chest as you observed his dominating aura.

He wore attire similar to yours, except a male version. He had a black coat with a hood that strapped across the front of his chest. Attached to it was a hood similar to yours. You could tell he had layers of clothing under his jacket for protection, and his pants were thick and tucked into heavy boots.

A pair of leather gloves covered his hands. He was tightening the one over his metal arm when he looked over at you.

His eyes were dark and his teeth clenched as he looked you up and down. You quickly looked away and back at Steve.

Steve was tightening your tracker around your wrist.

“Remember, this will only keep you off their radar for ninety seconds and it can only be activated twice. You can only use it when you enter and leave the city,” you were in a daze as you felt the need to look up at Bucky again. The pull was inevitable, “Y/N,” Steve’s tone was sturdy and you blinked at him, “Got it?”

He looked at you apprehensively, his grip tight over your hand. You swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Got it. Just twice. Entering and leaving.”

He nodded and pulled the sleeves of your coat halfway up both hands.

He gave you one more look and then nodded with his head towards Bucky, backing away from you, and walking towards Bucky’s direction.

You flexed your toes in your boots and held tightly onto the handles of your bag.

You took a deep breath and followed Steve towards Bucky.

Bucky looked at his boots and flexed his hands.

You didn’t realize how much bigger he was than you until now. Maybe it was his clothing, maybe.

You cleared your throat and he looked up at you through heavy lashes.

You wondered where he had been this morning while you were showering. It’s then that you catch sight of his heavy and dark bags under his eyes. Had he been up all night?

“Didn’t sleep?” Your question comes out before you mean it to and Bucky’s gaze quickly darkens.

“No.”

You sigh deeply, not knowing if you were more annoyed by his attitude towards you that clearly hadn’t changed or if you felt bad. You hoped his lack of sleep wouldn’t create more crankiness or mess-ups.

“Unlike you, I don’t need it.” He adds. He looks up towards the sky, making his sharp jaw visible to you and you curse the world for making him so attractive. You wondered then what kind of boyfriend he was to Daisy. And you wonder about the rumor of him and the Wakanda girl. Did he sleep with her? Was he good? Your questions in your head are interrupted as he continues, “We should get going. The sun is getting brighter and we can’t afford to lose one more day.”

Steve looked at you both like you were his two children going off to their first day of college and then he saluted you both goodbye.

Not one word was shared as you followed Bucky into the woods until what felt like three hours later.

The entire way, he hadn’t been kind enough to slow down for you, so you trailed behind him by at least fifteen feet.

You didn’t want to admit to defeat, but your lungs were burning and your legs were too. It wasn’t until he briefly stopped that you thanked the heavens.

As you caught up to his side, you saw what he had paused to look at.

There in front of you was an entire city. It was destroyed, defeated, and reeking of death and evil.

The broken and sharp metal of what had once been pretty buildings were now pointed into the sky. Heavy dust with lingering smoke, that had never gone away, still floated above the city like a dark halo.

You swallowed painfully, thirsty, and afraid.

Sure, he was an avenger, but the bacteria...

You looked at him, unsure.

“Bucky, we can’t go through the city. We have to stay on the outskirts,” he ignored you, taking a step forward and commencing his walk towards the city. You watched, unmoved, “It’s too dangerous, Bucky, we don’t know what is in that air—” You finally sighed and ran up to him, pulling on the sleeve of  his coat, “Bucky—“

He quickly snapped around to look at you, “We are going through the city. You think I came all this way for safety? You think I care? You think I’m some kind of coward? That we’ll just be taking the easy way out for everything? Or do you actually have any courageous and strong bone in that pathetic body of yours?” His words attack your ego and you practically flinch at the last question, slowly letting go of his sleeve. He’s breathing hard through his nose and you watch as he runs a hand over his face. He points back with his metal arm, “It’s the quickest route. We’re on atimed schedule. I don’t have time for safety or convenience. I’ll go alone if that’s what it takes. Come with me or not.”

He doesn’t bother giving you another glance before commencing his walk into the destroyed city.  You practically hear the howl of the wind and you pull the hood higher over your head.

You consider his words. You were trying to be safer, but he was right. This would be the quickest way and it wasn’t like you weren’t at least partially prepared for this.

You took a deep breath and followed him.

Bucky wouldn’t admit it, but he was momentarily shocked when he saw you right next to him.

He took the first step into the pavement, a dry leaf crunch under his boot. The sound echoed in the air.

You were both faced with what once was the main road, fallen traffic lights and power lines lined the street.

Cars were overturned, some destroyed completely either by fire or vandalism. The buildings, if they weren’t destroyed, were broken into and also vandalized. Overgrown shrubs were beginning to grow over the street signs and into the cracks of the sidewalk.

It was also terrifying how quiet it was.

You didn’t trust it.

It was obvious Bucky was reluctant just as much as you because his pace matched yours, and at some point, he had even pulled out his gun.

Your eyes darted around as you passed the empty cars and buses. One of the cars even had what appeared to be kids' toys - a stuffed teddy bear and a baby mirror - and you shuddered looking away, not wanting to know what happened here.

Bucky’s gun followed his eyes and immediately you wondered how long its been that he’s left camp.

“How long has it been since you’ve been outside like this?” You ask.

He’s quiet as you both step over a fallen street sign that advertised some kind of clothing brand, and you take his silence as an answer, giving up.

“A while.”

You’re surprised that he responded and your eyebrows shoot up.

You wait a minute and take another bite.

“Not used to it anymore, huh?” He doesn’t respond, “I can tell.”

“Is this your idea of small talk?” He snaps.

“I’m just trying to make conversation. I’m stuck with you for the next six months, might as well.”

“No. I’m stuck with you.”

You have to force yourself not to roll your eyes. Your joyous walk continues for a few more miles until you both turn onto a street where a train now lies.

You both stare at it, confused and surprised, wondering how the hell it got there. But judging by the entry holes on the buildings on either side, it was obvious that it had probably been thrown by means of an explosion of some sort.

And you would both have to somehow get around it.

As you approached the train car, you and Bucky came to a halt.

“I’ll go first since I’m heavier. Make sure it doesn’t topple over or isn’t booty-trapped.” Bucky says, tightening his bag strap over his body, “Stand back.”

You did as you were told and watched from a small distance as he began to climb into one of the cars which had its doors still open. Some bodies that had been reduced to skeletons were still inside.

You held tightly onto the straps of your backpack, apprehensively.

Eventually, Bucky had hopped out on to the other side with a huff.

He turned to face you.

“Your turn.”

You took a deep breath and a step forward, the leaves and glass debris breaking under your feet.

Your eyes met, and once again it was like that first time he saw you in the tent.

You looked down at the cart cautiously before stepping onto it. You clenched and unclenched your right hand, and with your left, you used it to help hoist yourself onto the train.

It rocked beneath your weight with a heavy groan and your eyes shot up to his in fear.

He leaned his right arm on the side of the car for support, and with his left, he stretched it out for you to take.

You look down to where he stood on the ground, and you swallowed, scared at how far the jump looked.

He wiggled his fingers and you were about to stretch your own arm out to take his hand when you saw something move behind him.

A man.

“Oh, my God.”

It was too fast for you to even recollect what happened, but suddenly you were on top of Bucky. You were screaming and he was cursing and you saw the silhouette of the man next to you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Bucky shouted, until fully turning around to see what you were looking at.

He cursed before pulling you behind him to shield you. He ran you both back towards a destroyed building on the far side of the street and finally aimed his gun at the man who was groaning, a green/black substance oozing out of his mouth like foam.

Bucky didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger, sending multiple gunshots into the man’s chest. He fell forward onto the street, dead.

You stumbled back and found Bucky’s hold on you soothing before he roughly pulled away and looked down at you, disappointed.

“Seriously?”

You inhaled deeply through your nose, feeling the dig of the building behind you.

How dare he snap at you for protecting him.

“You asshole. He was about to —”

“I don’t need you to protect me. If anything, you made it worst.”

“How the hell did I make it worst?” Bucky snarled, “What if I fell on him, huh? What if we both did?”

“But we didn’t!” You could feel your heart in your veins; in your head.

Bucky rolled his eyes as he swung his gun back down, relaxing his stance.

“Jesus fuck.” He mumbled under his breath, walking away from you, “I don’t know how you survived three years. It’s like it’s a joke to you.”

You feel your tears in your eyes before you push yourself off the wall and walked right past him so this time you were the one leading the way.

“I do what I can.” You mumble.

“Pathetic is what you are.” You wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t. Your pace grew faster as he continued on, “You don’t—” he grabbed onto your arm, making you quickly turn around and face him. You didn’t hide the tears and you knew very well he could see them. He looked into your eyes with his pretty blue ones, “You don’t hesitate to save your own life,” he tucked your scarf that had come loose tighter around your face, and for a second you thought maybe and finally, he had a change of heart. But his next words killed that as he stepped away, dropping his hand, “We can’t risk getting infected. And I can’t risk you getting me infected, either. I might be a super soldier, but we don’t know how that thing affects people like me.”

Him. It was always about him and his safety.

“What about me? What about me getting infected or killed?” He took a step closer to you.

“You signed up for this. You know the risk.”

He walked past you.

“So I should care about your life, but not about mine?”

“What I’m saying is you need to be careful.” You were about to say something else when he finished with, “Now tie your boots before you get us both killed by you tripping onto me.”

With a snarl, you looked down to see that, indeed, your left shoe was untied.

Shit.

An hour after your fight, the winds grew stronger and your visibility was down to two feet. You hadn’t spoken to each other since, and to be fairly honest, it’s not like you wanted to speak to him anyway.

After the winds had calmed down, you had both made it through the city and were now walking through what had once been crops. Now it was just coarse sand and rough rocks.

You wanted to ask him if you could rest for a few minutes, at least to have something to eat. But you were so afraid of what he would say to you.

But as you both walked and walked, it became harder.

Eventually, you stopped, and he also stopped to look at you. Your face was crestfallen.

“I’m not a super soldier like you. I need to eat. Maybe have a sip of water.”

Bucky looked you down but then turned and continued walking again.

You wanted to cry.

Did he want you down on your knees? Would that be enough for him?

After a few minutes, you reached forest land again.

You watched as Bucky walked off to the left side and sat against a tree.

You wanted to cry in relief.

You practically ran to him, sitting next to him against the tree. You pulled off your backpack and he did the same with his.

You both sat there, chewing on some nuts and fruits and sipping water.

Afterward, Bucky threw his eaten apple into the leaves and rested his head up against the tree.

You took that moment to observe him, but not making it too obvious.

Your promise to Steve resonates in your head.

He looked so young to you that you began to wonder how old he was, biologically. There was no way he was older than thirty-eight. You felt pity that he suffered so much so young.

“Can I ask you something?” You know you were fetching far. But screw it. His answer, was a tilt of his head and a peak of a blue iris at you, “how old are you?”

He squinted his eyes at you, “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, I know you’re in your hundreds, but biologically?”

He looked away from you and closed his eyes again. His mouth was in a straight, harsh line.

“A lot older than you.”

You bit your lip, looking away.

“I miss my life before this. I miss Netflix and Spotify. Damnit, I miss Halsey.” His expression is unchanged, “Did you ever have a favorite song? You know, before — before everything?”

He knows what you’re asking but he doesn’t answer you. Instead, he runs two hands down his face and announces that you should both get going again.

You’re disappointed.

You had quickly gotten over the fact that he would never like you, if anything he hated you, but you both needed to find a common ground of respect, especially if you would be spending this much time together.

But he still wouldn’t abide by you. It was like he just didn’t care. Were you going to have to show him your true colors?

Eventually, the sun was beginning to set and Bucky suggested you both should set up camp.

He built a fire using wood and a lighter while you laid down both your blankets. He eyed you over the fire as you put his blanket straight across from his.

He wanted to thank you but his words wouldn’t come out. He was still stuck on the question you had asked him.

After the fire was just right, he tucked himself onto his uncomfortable grey blanket and laid his head on his arm.

Your eyes closed tightly together as you tried your best to go to sleep. You folded your knees against your small chest into a fetal position, to keep warm.

Bucky watched you from across the fire. You were a good girl.

But you shouldn’t be doing this. You were the kind of girl that was supposed to live in the aftermath of the successful mission, not the one fighting for it. You were going to get hurt.

Just like he did.

And he hated you for it. You were so young and had so much to live for.

He hated that he felt so many emotions for you that made him want to scream at you and make you go away. He wasn’t sure what they were but he knew none of them was anything romantic.

He would never feel that way about anyone else ever again.

He turned around in his blanket and closed his eyes tight together.

He did have a favorite song.

[obeymeluv]

Red String of Fate (Pt. 2)

See “Red String of Fate” for the drabble lead up + Lucifer, Mammon, and Asmo. This post has Levi, Satan, Belphie, and Beel

To Levi:

Doesn’t understand what it is

Tries to shake it off without breaking his game mojo

Ends up getting it accidentally wrapped around the joysticks, losing the match, and spends the next few minutes silently fuming and trying to untangle everything

His tail slaps angrily against the floor as he grumbles and huffs, trying to be extremely delicate with whatever disaster this is

 Finally succeeds and stares at his finger in silence for a few seconds, trying to pick the knot.

Starts trying to pull it off. It doesn’t work.

Asks his friends what it could be

Asks whatever the Devildom equivalent of Google is

Makes the “OooOOOOooh!” because this sounds like a sure thing?! A definite soulmate?!

THERE IS SOMEONE FOR HIM, A LOWLY, YUCKY OTAKU?!

Levi explodes out of his room like the aquarium has busted and will flood the whole house

His pupils are doing the slit-narrow hyperfocused hunter thing as he tracks the red string like an enemy through a scope

Accidentally mows you down trying to speed walk to the end of the string.

Is super excited about the string now. HOW LONG IS IT? WHERE DOES IT GO? WHO’S AT THE END?!

You hear his tail wagging and slapping things before you see him, and that’s 0.5 seconds before he mows into you.

Accidentally steps on your foot in the process, so you fall in an graceless lump.

Levi’s pulling at the string like an excited kid. WHERE DOES IT GO, WHERE DOES IT GO? WHERE DOES IT GO?

Realizes he’s pulling your hand up and tugs on it a little in disbelief. Ends up making you wave at him and he gives a little giggle.

Then it hits him all over again and you get another “OooOOOOoooH!”

Scoops you up off the floor, tail wagging enough to take the breath out of Asmo.

He holds you to his chest and feels like some victorious Henry. Hopes the lighting is good and that this moment is as magical for you as it is for him. (Does his hair look good?). The pinky-red smoke is basically like a cool anime effect, right?

Levi gives the shyest, softest ‘mine’, as he cradles you to his chest. He purrs a little, tucking his tail up towards your body, basically offering it for you to hold.

His room is your little private palace. He hopes you like it.

To Satan:

Was quite content minding his own business, reading for pleasure after a long day of reading for necessity (i.e: school)

Doesn’t really feel it at first. He turns a page and hears this absolutely maddening drag of a scrape that makes him want to stab someone.

Sees the string. Tries to flick it off. Proceeds to shake his finger. That doesn’t work, so he tries to roll it off or at least roll it to the tip of his finger

Satan slams his book down with a furrow in his brow and transitions to his demon form. Starts trying to fray it with his claws. When chewing on it and trying to break it on his horns don’t work, he stalks up his bookshelves to find the section on Hexes and Curses

Imagine his surprise (and yours) when you and Asmo enter his room. The supposed love or your life is in full demon form and splayed across his bookshelves like a spitting lizard. Or a dragon defending its hoard.

Asmo is BEYOND disappointed. Kind of aggravated. “THE worst way to find a soulmate EVER!” Asmo picks up the closest book and throws it at him for good measure (it misses by a long shot).

He yanks on the string, trying to rip him off the bookshelf.

Satan drops down, already back to his normal form by the time he lands on his feet, and stomps over with mild indignation that someone could call him THE WORST at something

Also: what the hell is going on?!

Asmo explains and Satan goes very, very red. He’s completely at a loss.

Well...at least he knows you’re a sure thing! In a way, it’s good to know you’ll have someone no matter how much of an ass you make of yourself

You take the hand from his mouth, the pinky-red smoke seeming to frame you both, and jokingly ask if he has any good books to take your mind off things.

“Certainly, but perhaps you’d be more interested to hear about that over dinner?” (”That’s better!” Asmo nods and crosses his arms, walking out of the room as if he fixed the problem).

To Beel:

You should be grateful he was already at the House of Lamentation, having a post-homework snack, when the red string appear.

Who knows how hard or how far you’d be dragged if he was at sports practice?!

Beel doesn’t notice it until his next bite, when something catches against his fangs and slips out of his mouth. It tickled his lips and made him do a double-take

He’s in the middle of sucking sauce off his finger when he confirms the string is not flavored or edible.

Is kind of annoyed he has to switch to eating with one hand

Wants to ignore it because he can still reach the fridge and cabinets but gets annoyed when it catches across the table and tries to knock over little things like salt and pepper shakers

Takes a big bite of his current food item (a sandwich), sets it down, and starts fishing through the draws for knives

None of the knives work. He has moved to the cleavers

Chips away at some of the prep table so he stops with the cleavers.

Tries to burn it off. Does not work

Beel isn’t sure what to do, so he grabs his sandwich and goes to Lucifer

On the way to Lucifer, he hears Asmo crow down the hall “AHHH! IT’S TO BEEL! MY DARLING BABY BROTHER! OOH, THE CUTEST! IT’S PERFECT!” way before he sees him or you

This lovely big boi just stands there, a little confused and expecting Asmo to explain it (as he always does. Asmo always has something to talk about)

Asmo’s got you by the arm and is running towards Beel. Beel finally notices the excess of red string, and that you’re tangling in it.

You fall against him and a cloud of sweet pinky-red smoke explodes around him.

Smells like sweets should taste. He wants some Celestial Realm sweets now

“A soulmate, huh?” Beelzebub looks down at you. His cheeks slowly pinken as that genuine but sly smile spreads on his face. There could be worse people, for sure. “Want to go celebrate?” he gives you the biggest puppy dog eyes.

You can’t say no. Beel holds your hand all the way to the restaurant.

To Belphegor:

There is a new texture near him and he doesn’t like it

Belphie doesn’t open his eyes, but he tries to adjust his blankets and pillows until he doesn’t feel it

When this doesn’t work and he sense the thing is still around, Belphie opens his eyes to see he’s tied up in the stuff

Grumpy, sleepy boy

Demon chirps/churrs for Beel to help him

After his big bro helps him untangle, Belphie sulks around, dragging his pillow, to figure out where this thing goes and what the hell it is

Probably tries to fry it with a bit of magic, but it fizzles out the second sparks touch the string.

Belphie may be the sleepy kind of lazy, but he knows his magic spells. That one SHOULD work.

A spark of interest has him a little more awake now. Belphie straightens up and walks a little lighter

“I didn’t expect anything grand since Belphie’s so tired, but this has its own charm.” Asmo critiques, touching a few fingers to his lips to smother a giggle.

Belphie does look quite adorable, standing there with a dash of confusion amongst his exhaustion. Bonus points for his cute little pillow dragging the floor behind him.

All of the bros know better than to mess with his naps and Belphie’s glare is slowly powering up. Asmo has a few seconds to explain before Belphie knocks him into the nearest wall with the pillow. It WILL hurt.

Asmo keeps teasing and hemming and hawing, and it’s not until the pillow is literally over Belphie’s shoulder (gearing up for the down-swing) that Asmo blurts out “SOULMATES! YOU HAVE A SOUL MATE! THEY ARE YOUR SOUL MATE!”

You become the sacrificial lamb, Asmo shoving you towards Belphegor to save his hair (mostly)

The pillow slides over the top of your head and down your back as Belphegor slowly brings his arms around you in a hug. A nervous hug. A shocked hug.

Someone like him gets a soulmate? That almost seems to generous.

That pinky-red smoke explodes in his face. Belphie sneezes cutely. Cuter than he’d like to own up to.

The action causes him to bump his head against you. At first it hurts but his brain quickly overrules the inconvenience to realize how nice your hair is and how he can lean his head on you

His body melts into yours and Belphie barely has the forethought to tuck the pillow under your head as his body weight sends you both crashing to the floor.

Totally ignores Asmo yelling “BELPHIE, NO!” in the background as he tries to catch you or prop you up. Belphie actually slaps him with his tail and continues to the fall to the floor.

The pillow will protect you. He has full confidence

“Sleepy,” he mutters, readjusting his head until it fits nicely in the curve of your neck. He kind of wishes he brought a blanket.

You tentatively pat his head and play with his hair. Belphie purrs, tail sweeping the floor.

[be-ace-write-crime]

Lovely Bride - Second Wedding Night

You wake up after your night with Wamuu and return to your empty village, the last survivor of the Hamon tribe. You struggle with conflicting emotions, anger to the people that made you a sacrificial lamb, grief for the tribe that raised you and the people you grew up with. So much has happened in such a short time and nothing will ever be the same again.

Thankfully Esidisi is there to comfort you.

You and Wamuu made love all night and you suspect a decent portion of the morning as well, after the candles had burned out. He took care to clean the sweat, cum and oil off your skin, probably realizing how badly he had wrecked your body after the fact. He put your wreath aside and let you snuggle up in his bed with some clean pillows, and you fell asleep almost instantly.

The stress and your rendezvous with the first pillarman had thoroughly exhausted you. You woke up alone, a single candle left to light the room for you. It hadn’t been lit for long. Maybe an hour or two? Either way, the room had become stuffy, smelling of sex and burnt out candles, so even if you couldn’t get outside, you weren’t staying in this room.

You picked up your dress, your sandals, and combed your hair with a comb left on the table beside the one remaining light. You were about to leave the room when you thought to put your wreath back on, as your first husband clearly appreciated the look and symbolism of it. You also thought to bring a dagger that was on display as one of Wamuu’s trophies. You knew he wouldn’t mind you taking it and while you were neither scared your betrothed would eat you, nor did you have the hubris to assume you could take them in a fight if you had a dagger, being sent around the lair of vampires and vengeful gods unarmed had been making you nervous since yesterday. With the sheathed dagger tucked into the belt around your waist you venture into the hallway.

The candle light didn’t reach very far, but far enough you can see a faintly shifting silhouette in the shadows leading deeper into the catacombs. Very well, not like you wanted to go there and the squirmy shadows of what had to be vampires only helped to solidify that decision. You looked over your shoulder constantly as you made your way back outside. The hatch had been left open, though the early evening light made it too dangerous for the pillarmen or the vampires to be out.

Every step into the light felt like a wave of relief. You blew out your candle and left it on the steps, almost running outside. It wasn’t until you felt the breeze blowing through the temple that you noticed the trails of tears on your face. You rarely cried, but indeed, you had much to cry about. Tears of relief, happiness and sadness alike.

The sun kissing your face felt heavenly and you could have probably stood there until the sunset, if a warm chuckle hadn’t pulled you out of your thoughts. You wiped your tears away and looked to see Esidisi at the bottom of the stairs, just barely visible in the shade.

“You look beautiful like that,” he said. “I look forward to the day I can embrace the sun by your side,” he added, casting a mournful glance at the shadows edge he couldn’t cross. It seemed so strange that someone as powerful as him was unable to touch you simply because you were standing in the sunlight.

“I wish I could share it with you,” you said, without thinking.

“You do?” he asked, looking up at you again. He seemed surprised.

“I wouldn’t deny anyone the sun… It would be cruel…” you said, shyly running a hand through your hair as he graced you with a warm smile.

“Such a kind heart after all you’ve endured,” he said. “Your village is still there, though you will find it deserted. I assume that’s where you were headed.”

“I just wanted some fresh air, but… now that you mention it, I would like to go there,” you agreed.

“Go ahead. I will catch up to you once the sun has set,” Esidisi said, leaning against the wall and waiting out the daytime.

You nodded and went ahead as we’d told you to do. From what you’d gathered he was the second in command, higher than Wamuu in their hierarchy, but below Kars. He was the one to second your plea for your sister and nieces to be spared. You would have to ask him about them later.

The way down to your village was eerily quiet. Normally you’d hear some noise, see the lights from cooking fires and candles, but the place was abandoned as you’d been warned it would be. The gods had come down from the mountain and wiped out all the people that once resided here, leaving the empty shell of your birthplace behind. In the village square there was a table laid out for a banquet, big enough for the whole village.

Wild animals and some escaped livestock had made their own feast of it in the absence of the humans during the day, but everything looked as if your people just vanished into thin air. Cups and cutlery strewn about, food and wine on the tables, homes untouched. No time to pack up and flee, no time to get the weapons and fight, just a meal, over as soon as it began.

You had been crying since you first stepped outside, but seeing with your own two eyes how the people you called your tribe would be gone forever made you sob hysterically. The ones that had raised you, loved you, and then sent you off to die had all been killed, leaving you alone to mourn them.

“C-Celebrating, were you?!” you spat angrily at the empty table. Wild dogs and other pests had dragged the meat away, while half eaten and picked at fruit, vegetables and pastries were being consumed by flies. A few birds scattered as you approached and dragged a metal tray off the table, leaving it to clatter against the cobblestones of the square. The plates were next, smashed at your feet or hurled like disks to burst into shards of earthenware against the walls of empty homes.

One pitcher full of wine was miraculously untouched on the table, at least until you found it. Booze would either calm you down or be a perfect fuel to your fire. You chugged half the damn vase to quench your thirst either way.

“Was it worth it?! Were all of us you sent to die worth it, you bastards?!” you demanded, climbing on the table and hurling the serving blows around, kicking everything off that was in your way.

“How many idiots does one village need?!” you spat at the empty head chair, picking up the plate and yeeting it with a perfect spin in the direction you came from. It would have gone far if your husband hadn’t caught up to you by then, batting at the dish reflexively, only to have it shatter in his face like shrapnel.

You tried to compose yourself quickly. Surely throwing a plate at his face would warrant killing you, he’d killed for less, you were throwing a tantrum in the evidence of that fact, but you knew he wasn’t going to. For one not to go against Kars, but also because the look on his face was far from the righteous fury that should have been there.

You were standing on a table, leftover food and sauce on the ends of your dress and up to your ankles, ugly crying like a fussy child, but Esidisi merely brushed the stone splinters from his hair and handed you the big carving knife you had somehow stepped over.

“Don’t stop on my account, dear (Y/N). In fact, if I can assist you in any way, do not hesitate to tell me,” he said, smiling calmly.

“I could stab you with this, you know?” you asked, sniffling loudly.

“That dagger would be better for stabbing, but you could,” he agreed, looking up at you. “If it would make you feel better, I would let you. I remember needing to vent for weeks after my own tribe was wiped out. How lord Kars put up with me during that time is beyond me, but I am infinitely grateful he did,” he explained, leaving himself open for an attack.

You contemplated doing it for several long moments, even raising the knife over your head, but ultimately deciding against it. You weren’t scared he would retaliate or punish you, but in the end you saw no point in harming the one person showing you kindness in that moment. You tossed the knife away and kicked some more tableware around like an angry cat.

“‘S no point… just no point in… a-anything I do, is there? W-What am I gonna do now? What need do you have for a human? Just gonna live underground for a… a month and then die like everyone here!!!” you sobbed, hiding your face, which must have been a huge mess by then. Right now he certainly wasn’t sympathising with you because of your good looks.

“You will live, you will grow stronger and wiser and live out the full extent of your life. You alone will carry the legacy of your people. You will be our agent in achieving perfection and when we do we shall forever embrace the light of day beside you,” he answered, holding you against his chest and stroking your back softly.

If you muttered something along the lines of ‘lying bastard’ he kindly ignored it and let you finish crying.

“You were right, you know. The best men and women your village had to offer were the first to die. I believe after your sister and her daughters left, there was hardly any goodness left among them. They took two old horses and a small cart and were practically chased out under threat of being stoned to death. I handed them the box lord Kars said to give them after they had departed, fearing it might be stolen from them. Don’t tell, but I informed them you were alive and what you had done. Your sister cried, as she had done all evening, then brandished a spear at me and said for me to treat you better than your people had treated you,” he said, letting you sob into his shoulder until you ran out of steam. You were probably dehydrated too and seriously hungry.

“Every person worth their salt here seems to think the world of you. Your sister risking her life to threaten me, the tribe’s warriors who died to protect you, lord Kars who saw your shine even in your darkest hour.”

“Everyone else here seemed to think I was fairly expendable,” you huffed bitterly.

“They seemed to think sacrificing you would save all of their lives. They were slaughtered for treating you so cruelly, beloved, but they knew you were the greatest treasure they had to offer,” he corrected, picking you and setting you down now that you had recovered.

Crying like that really did make you feel better. You were never allowed a tantrum of such epic proportions before, just shy of stabbing your husband, while he supported you through every second of it.

“Speaking of treasure,” he said, a sly smile on his face. “This is a small village, but it seems wealthy enough. There is no one left to care for its worldly possessions now,” he said, quirking a brow to emphasize his mischievous intentions. Well, mischief by the standards of a wrathful, mass murdering god. If two days ago someone had told you you’d essentially be pillaging your own home, stealing from the dead, you’d have thought they were crazy.

“You’re not… wrong…” you agreed. His smile was contagious, and you found yourself going along with his idea.

The full moon was high in the sky and the tables and chairs in the square had been repurposed to light a bonfire with his magic. You knew how and where money was hidden and Esidisi caught on to the pattern quickly.

“Go fetch your own treasures, darling. Vampires could do this,” he said, whistling to summon a few and instructing them on how to search.

You could name a few things you wanted, but never dared to ask for. Now you were the sole heir to the hamon tribe and your husband ordered you to fetch whatever treasure you desired, so who were you to disobey?

As such you met him later in the town square, decked out in enough jewelry to sink your body to the bottom of a river, a silk dress in a vibrant wine red color and a stola to match, while your palla, a scarf reserved for upperclass women of Rome, was now a makeshift bag for numerous scrolls you had stolen, detailing the history and craft of your people. Those were all going with you and you’d guard them with your life.

You were still bitter about what your people had done to you. You might always carry some resentment for the rest of your life, but the warriors of your tribe had given their lives to save those selfish creatures and you wouldn’t allow them and their sacrifice to be dismissed by history just because the people they fought to protect were ungrateful bastards.

Your haul made for an odd little collection of treasure. You had also taken to wearing the shiny, gold anklets you found. These were typically reserved for the… courtesans of your village. The women who kept themselves standing by laying on their backs. They were frowned upon by common folk, but were considered desirable nonetheless. There was no one left now to judge you for your dress being too short or the anklets you wore with your wreath and your dagger.

You were the last living member of the Hamon tribe and a bride to gods. Dressed in all gold, or wearing nothing at all would make you no less of a queen.

“Master Esidisi?” you greeted him upon finding him again. He quickly smiled when he saw you, but you could tell something had happened.

“You look beautiful by the light of the fire as you do in the daylight, my dear,” he said, standing up and coming to welcome you.

You noticed at least one of the vampires had… well it had died, but you couldn’t phantom what had happened to it. It looked like it had blown up and then melted. “Don’t worry about that thing. It decided to berate me when it couldn’t find what I had ordered it to search for.”

“What was it supposed to search for?” you asked. It probably wasn’t anything you’d picked up. The scrolls had all been in plain sight and you didn’t need to search hard for fine clothes and jewelry.

“The chief of your village had come into possession of a precious red stone, called the Aja. I ordered the vampires to search his home for it, but they found nothing,” he explained.

“Tsk, as if that cowardly bastard would hide anything you might look for in his own house,” you muttered, jumping when you realized what you had just done. Perhaps you drank a bit too much wine earlier. “Don’t kill me, I just know what a prick he used to be!”

“I wouldn’t kill you for such an infraction, (Y/N). You are my bride and equal. This vermin didn’t know his place,” he assured you. “Where would he hide the Aja if not in his home?”

“I can’t say for sure…” you started. Giving the wrong answer seemed more dangerous than not knowing, but you could hazard a guess in this case. “I imagine he’d hide it where he hid everything he really cared about. His mistress, his bastard children and your stone,” you said, pointing to the little home uphill. It was near the treeline and his sons and mistress were among the first to be devoured by vampires as a result. The elderly chief hadn’t been one of your favorite people to begin with, but losing his sons and the woman he loved made him worse.

You looked around the home you knew well, noticing the loose stones around the fireplace in the kitchen where no one would think anything was hidden.

“I have been by this house before,” Esidisi said.

“I think I found something,” you said, prying the stone loose stones out.

“Your sister was here, gathering your things,” he continued, insisting.\

“It’s stuck, could you please help?” you asked, trying to ignore him.

“You were the chief’s illegitimate daughter, is that right?” he asked, just as the stone came loose and you flopped backwards onto your old kitchen floor, gold and silver accessories jingling as you went.

“Ow…” you huffed, looking up at your husband from where you lay. “I spent enough time crying over that already. I have better things to waste tears on now,” you answered with a long sigh, slowly sitting back up.

There was a box in a little hollowed out space you uncovered. “He loved my mother and my brothers, but not me. I think he felt I should have died before any of them. I figure that was his real reason for sending me as a sacrifice. My sister was in the same boat as me, but she found herself a good husband.”

“Was he killed by the vampires, or one of us?” Esidisi asked, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“Typhoid, almost a year ago. My nieces lived with me during that time. Gods forbid they might have caught it too. I loved them so much… My mother still thought herself my father’s true love, ignoring how she was led on and made to live in poverty, treated like an adultering whore for being with a married man. My brothers were young, though they got it in their heads just like our mother that they would be in charge someday. Our father loved them, though. Had them trained to be warriors since they were children. In the end they didn’t wake up in time to scream, let alone fight… It’s been a few weeks since then...” you explained, crying again, but less frenzied than before. All that wine was definitely keeping you from throwing another tantrum, if only because you’d fall over if you tried.

“My sincerest condolences for your loss and you have my respect for what you did to save your sister and nieces,” your husband whispered. “You will never be disrespected like that, my sweet. We shall treat you as a goddess, as you rightfully deserve to be,” he promised.

You could tell he was serious, despite his ruthlessness in battle. His condolences were sincere, and you were grateful he’d been the one to send your sister on her way.

“You don’t mind that I’m human? Whatever happened to the women of your kind?” you asked.

“Our tribe existed until some eight thousand years ago. I was Lord Kars’ right hand in his endeavor to elevate our immortal kind through the stone masks, but they rejected his views. Kars decided if they wanted to spend eternity cowering underground instead of striving for more, then they might as well be dead,” Esidisi explained. “When he gave the order, I did not hesitate. The only ones spared were Wamuu and Santana, who were only infants at the time. Regardless, I say he chose his companions well. Yourself included,” he said, kissing your forehead.

By now your eyes had to be wide as saucers and you were regretting not bringing more wine, which might have made that story a little easier to unpack.

“I can’t say for sure whether you made the right choices, but wiping out all women of your immortal kind and then choosing me definitely sounds like a decision made by someone stabbed in the head with several stone spikes,” you said, making him laugh again.

“My beautiful (Y/N), what matters is that lord Kars sees the potential of a goddess in you and more than any creature that has ever walked this earth he has been a master of realizing such potential,” your husband assured you, taking the box you had almost forgotten about and flipping it open, revealing the brilliant red stone inside. “And you have just brought us one step closer with the gift you procured.”

It was explained on the way back up the mountain that their aim was to retrieve this stone to complete the stone mask lord Kars had created with the intention of allowing them to endure sunlight. It answered several questions you had and raised a million more, but your first order of business would be to present the stone to your husband and master.

“Lord Kars, we have returned!” Esidisi announced when you entered the temple. Kars was seated on his throne, his expression unreadable. He had let down his hair from under the tight wrap and it flowed down his back in elegant black waves, as dark and infinite as the night sky.

“Did you find it, Esidisi?” he asked, his eagerness betraying his stoic facade.

“I did not,” he said. Kars’ grip on his armrest cracked the solid marble and his red eyes shone furiously in the firelight. You flinched, wanting to smack your husband for teasing like this, but you were too nervous to speak already. “Rest easy, my lord. Our beloved bride did find it,” he said, ushering you forward.

You kneeled at his feet and humbly presented the stone. Kars pulled you into his lap and smiled, a genuinely happy smile as he kissed your cheek.

“Anything in the world shall be yours, my beautiful sunshine, for it is the world you have given us tonight,” he said, kissing your lips before taking the stone to examine it more. You felt an overwhelming joy bubble up in your chest, overpowering the grief and spite that had been festering there.

Esidisi looked almost smug, smiling up at you in his master’s lap. Like he was proud of himself you were getting praised.

All until Kars took a closer look at the stone. His expression turned to an annoyed sneer, and he glared at you so sharply you just about fell off his lap.

“Is it a fake, master Kars?” Wamuu asked while Esidisi approached to help you up and assure you again that you wouldn’t be eaten.

“This stone is genuine, but it is a plain Aja, far too small to serve its purpose,” Kars answered, shutting the box with a loud clack that made you flinch. “This is what we exhausted so much energy on…” he muttered, rubbing his forehead like he was fighting off a headache.

“The night is young, lord Kars. We can renew our search for the super Aja right now if you wish?” Esidisi offered.

Kars looked at Esidisi, then down to you, his expression softening slightly.

“No, that won’t be necessary, Esidisi. In fact, I might have some use for this stone after all. You can spend the night with our bride, seeing as how you’ve dressed her for the occasion,” your master declared, his eyes roaming over your figure, taking obvious note of your ankles. He stood up and grabbed the marble armrest he’d cracked, his muscles bulging as he ripped a slab of marble clean off. He picked up the stone and then plucked your wreath from your head and turned to head back into the catacombs.

“A shame. I thought the wreath matched your anklets rather well,” Esidisi said playfully, running his fingers through your hair. You blushed, but leaned into his touch regardless.

“I put those on cause they’re pretty. Not as an invitation… Kars is scary when he’s mad. What do I do?” you asked, feeling like you might cry again. You’d done your best, and you had no idea how big the stone needed to be! It wasn’t your fault!

“He isn’t mad at you,” Wamuu assured you. “I will head out with the vampires to continue our search. We know that the red stone of Aja traveled the silk road from Asia to Rome. We’ll just have to find it.”

“He knows not to blame you for this. Lord Kars is more sensible than that. He’s frustrated, because our fight with the hamon tribe took a great deal of energy and while consuming the remaining villagers replenished some of it, we have little time before even that runs dry,” Esidisi explained, picking you up and kissing your forehead.

“What happens when it does?” you asked, the pillarmen exchanging a worried glance.

“Either we must consume what might well be an army of humans, or we must go to sleep and hopefully recover,” Esidisi explained.

“What? I-I wouldn’t argue with you consuming humans as you need, but what would be wrong with sleeping?” you asked. You hadn’t caught any of them sleeping, but you assumed they could, just like any other creature.

“When we sleep, we turn to stone and it could well be a thousand years or more before we awaken. You would not be there to greet us when we awaken,” Wamuu explained, looking down at the ground.

“How much time do you have left?” you asked, once again feeling the ring in your chest weigh heavy on your heart, but not because you were excited this time.

“About as much time as is left on your engagement ring, beloved,” Esidisi said.

Wamuu took all vampires with him, scattering them in every direction to search for information on the red stone, leaving Esidisi himself to fetch something you could actually eat while you waited in his room.

“You shouldn’t have,” you said, bashfully accepting the basket of goods he returned with, although the sight of food had your stomach painfully clenching to remind you of just how hungry you were. On your wedding day you had refused to eat, scared senseless and struggling against everything being offered to you. After your evening with Wamuu you had spent almost the entire day asleep, meaning you were going on two days without food at this point. No wonder that wine earlier got you drunk so quickly.

“I wouldn’t make you descend and climb a mountain twice on an empty stomach. It was foolish of me to have let you return without eating in the first place,” Esidisi responded, smiling as you started to dig in. The basket had fruit and bread and cured meats and cheese, and you hurriedly started popping grapes in your mouth.

“Thank you so much,” you said, holding your hand in front of your half full mouth. “Can you eat this?” you asked out of curiosity.

“I could pretend. I can appreciate the flavor, surely, but it wouldn’t sustain me,” he answered. “Your body produces its own life energy. Mine can only draw on the life energy of other living beings.”

You looked at your basket, at the cured meat inside. You thought of how many animals died every year to keep you fed. You wouldn’t eat another human, but you’d come to realize the gods you were married to didn’t kill for their own amusement or even to defend themselves. Only to eat.

And while it may have felt like cruelty, humans were simply not used to being prey. Not used to being the wary herd, stalked by ferocious predators, and knowing that their only hope was that someone either braver or weaker would be killed off first and still their hunger another night.

On the other hand, could you justify yourself standing by as an army worth of humans were turned into food? It was true he said army, but that was an awfully justifiable way of putting it. Army made it sound like a threat. Like it was kill or be killed. In reality even if they only picked off strong men, worthy of being soldiers, that would just leave an army worth of widows and children defenseless and possibly starving.

Would they even give you the antidote? You thought you’d grown closer with Wamuu and now Esidisi and Kars had chosen you himself, but you still wore the poison ring around your heart. If they were going to sleep, they wouldn’t have a reason to keep you alive either. Why would they allow their bride to run off on her own if she was going to die before they woke up again? Maybe that was the point all along. To hold the ring’s curse over your head so you wouldn't run away until they didn’t need your little mortal self anymore.

“You’re worrying about something silly,” Esidisi said, cutting through your line of thought as if he’d been reading your mind. “You have a very expressive face,” he explained.

“It’s not silly,” was the first thing out of your mouth before you thought to deny it. You probably just sounded immature. “I guess to a god being worried about dying would sound like some silly human concern…”

“You won’t die, beloved. We won’t allow it,” Esidisi answered simply.

“What about the wedding ring?” you asked, putting a hand over your heart. your husband nodded, understanding.

“You’re worried we won’t save you if we don’t find the stone in time to escape our thousand year sleep?” he asked. You nodded, putting the basket away on a side table.

Esidisi’s bedroom was larger than Wamuu’s and so was the bed you were seated on. The silk covers and furs from exotic animals in the candle light looked and felt like some kind of dream. It didn’t help the part of your brain that was whispering none of this was meant for you and like a dream it would come to an end long before you wanted it to.

“We’ll do everything we can to secure the stone first. If that fails, we can buy ourselves more time as needed,” he said, taking your hands in his. “It pains me to think you’ll live a mortal life at all. I realize by comparison it is selfish, but I wouldn’t want to wake up in a world without you in it…” he sighed, thumbs stroking over the many rings on your fingers. He didn’t suggest making you a vampire, which you were grateful for. The thought of spending centuries in the dark consuming humans while waiting for them to return made you sick to your stomach.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered. “It’s just so hard to believe when my own people didn’t want me alive… You barely know me…”

“I know enough to have fallen for you and everything I have come to learn has made me love you more,” he responded.

“I-I… Esidisi…” you whined, wanting to bury your face in your hands, but he wouldn’t let go. Your face was red. Had it been so hot in his room the whole time? Every other underground room had been so cool.

“I will have you know the extent of my adoration, my beautiful dancing flame,” he said. “If Kars won’t see reason, I will make him.”

Somehow knowing that he would disagree with Kars for your sake was a greater declaration of love than any words or gifts and you leaned in to kiss his lips.

“I love you too… I don’t want to cry anymore, please,” you said softly, burying your fingers in his soft, white hair.

“But you cried so beautifully for Wamuu last night,” he whispered. You whined and buried your face in his neck.

“You were listening?!” you asked. You thought Esidisi had been out that night.

“How could I not have heard you screaming like that? You sounded so eager. I have lived thousands of years and yet this evening has tested my patience more than centuries spent looking for the stone. Now I finally get you all to myself~” he purred, reaching over to the nightstand and pinching the candle wick between his fingers to snuff out its flame. You heard the soft sizzle of his flesh burning as he hadn’t wet his fingers to do it, but he didn’t even seem to notice. Every light that died let the shadows of the room creep closer, but you weren’t scared or even worried.

In the dark you could still sense him moving while he was so close. The soft, delicate silks of your new clothes slipped off easily and you were about to start on your jewelry, but your master really had run out of patience.

“Keep them on. You look beautiful,” he praised, pulling you in for another heated kiss. You wished you could take some of his clothes, but you had already noticed those were stitched into his skin. You did not expect him to remove his sewn on chest plate just so you could kiss and nuzzle his chest more freely, which was why the loud sound of stitches snapping surprised you.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” you asked finally.

“I hardly feel any pain at all and my body heals quickly. I rather enjoy the thrill when I do feel it. It’s exhilarating,” he explained. You were about to reach out and touch his chest when something hot and slim coiled around your wrists and pulled them back above your head. You couldn’t see what it was and the sharp tug made you help, but you knew it was just your husband, even if you couldn’t quite tell what he’d done.

“I will show you pain if you don’t stop teasing me,” you huffed, making him laugh.

“You are too adorable, trying to threaten me, my little flame,” he said through his laughing, something hot and wet dripping from the coils around your wrists, making you shiver. His hands around your waist moved and still your hands were pinned, immobile, which was frustrating, because not only could you not see your lover without his painful looking armor, you couldn’t touch him either. His fingertips felt hot, as if by remnant of the flames he extinguished between them, but by now you knew better. That heat was all his and glowed fiercely from within and you vaguely suspected he held it back some, just to touch you without hurting you when he explored your naked skin.

There was something sensual about being dressed in nothing but your jewelry before him. The bracelets entwined with the warm twine that held your arms in place. The thin strands of twinkling gold, laden with gems around your neck, resting lightly against the top of your bare breasts. The anklets you still wore, a coquettish little accessory that would have branded you a shameless whore to the humans you knew. Still your husband regarded you as a far greater treasure, stroking your thighs and kissing your neck as if he were mapping out every inch of you with his touch, even though you knew he could see you in the complete darkness.

“Please, Esidisi…” you murmured, wanting to feel his heat deep inside your core. You could already tell this would be nothing like with Wamuu. He’d been all chivalry, slowly testing the waters, infinitely patient until you gave him the all clear to have his way with you.

Esidisi was more in control, using that to his advantage to tease you mercilessly. He was taking things slow to savour you, not because he was holding anything back. His demeanor exuded a confidence and experience that made you feel safe, even if his slow pace had you craving more already.

“Please what, my darling?” he asked, pushing you down against the bed and you could feel the mattress dip where he kneeled over your small, exposed form. In the pitch black darkness you couldn’t see him right in front of you, but you felt the warmth radiating off him like a flame still. “Would you rather I take you like a beast in heat, little one? So eagerly crying for more~”

Heat was a very apt description of your current desire, in every sense of the word and he knew it. Threats and orders would make him laugh and requests would be easily overruled, but Esidisi never once denied you when you begged.

“Please, my master, my lord, my king! I need you to touch me. Make me yours. Burn me up! I need you!” you pleaded, rubbing your thighs together, only to have them roughly pried apart.

“No wonder Wamuu lost control with you so easily. With such a charming spark you possess you should be careful what you wish for,” he warned, and you could feel his breath against your labia, already anticipating what would happen next.

Knowing what would happen and being prepared for just how good it would feel were still two different things and more of the hot tendrils wrapped themselves around your legs, keeping you open and exposed while your god and master indulged in the taste of you. He worked his tongue deliberately, aiming to please in a way that told he took just as much pleasure in the act himself.

“A-Ah, yes! Oh my god… please please please don’t stop!” you pleaded, losing yourself too quickly to even try holding back your orgasm. His thumb worked your clit in slow, deliberate circles, while his tongue dipped hungrily into your wet pussy, as if craving your taste.

You came screaming, arching off the bed as far as your bonds would allow, while Esidisi continued to work you through your climax with his gentle, loving touch.

“You’re incredible, my love. I am so thankful I get to have you all to myself tonight. I can already imagine the fights over who gets to have you in their bed, our most coveted treasure,” he whispered while you caught your breath.

“Hmm… Ah, but all else being equal… won’t I get a say in that?” you asked, panting to catch your breath. The bindings around your wrists loosened and moments later you could feel his fingers pushing into your sensitive opening.

“True, true, very true,” he agreed, as his warm, battle calloused fingers explored your most sensitive spots. His heat inside was making you tremble and you almost desperately wanted more of it, despite having cum once already. “I suppose I’d better give you a reason to choose me when the time comes,” he said, rubbing insistent circles at a spot that made you whimper with need.

With your hands now free, you reached blindly into the darkness, finding his immensely broad shoulders and muscular arms. You carded your fingers through the soft white curls of his hair, pushing the fabric of his headpiece off and feeling the sharp horns he kept concealed under it.

“I-If you want to give me a reason… P-Please fuck me… I can take it already, please~” you begged. You could just make out the way his breath hitched and the sharp intake of breath before the bindings around your legs dragged you hallway into your lover’s lap and you could feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against you to replace his fingers.

“I am going to ruin you…” he growled softly, gripping your hips and slamming in deep.

You arched your back and keened, the edge of pain eased by his warmth and the pleasure of having him inside.

“What a glorious little spark you are, sweet (Y/N). Let me have you like this forever. Let me shower you with affection so that you may always wear such a lovely expression,” he murmured, kissing your lips while his hips rocked steadily with yours, his pace intensifying until the bed under you shook. It was nowhere near the feral pounding you’d enjoyed from Wamuu the previous night, but it was enough to leave you reeling regardless.

You giggled briefly, shaking your head. “I-Imagine… If I made that face at lord Kars? No… just now… just you… Esidisi~...” you responded. He chuckled and lifted you further onto his lap, holding you close while he slowed to grinding deeper inside you than you would have thought possible. It felt so incredible your eyes fluttered shut and you slumped against his rock-hard chest, finally getting to rub your face on it, though your attention was firmly drawn elsewhere.

“I imagine he’ll be inclined to make you show that face for himself soon. He’ll be as enamored with it as I am, beloved,” he said, his heat all around and deep inside you. It felt so comforting and safe in his arms, even wrecked by wave after wave of pleasure. “Still, I will cherish this moment where you are mine and mine alone~”

You were going to cum again. The pleasure like this wasn’t as overwhelming as being pounded like before, but it was constant, inescapable and so intense you could only mewl softly in agreement and try not to drool.

“So small and sensitive. You are far too tempting not to tease,” he said, still rocking into you slow and deep, letting out a deep, guttural moan when he felt you quiver and tighten around his hard cock. He didn’t stop or slow down, keeping his pace and dragging your breathtaking orgasm on into what felt like minutes.

“Ah~ S-So much… t-too much! Esidisi… Too much~!!!” you whined, weak little fingers clutching at his shoulders, digging into his skin as you braced yourself against the tidal waves of climax.

“You can endure more than you think, little one. I will show you the true heights of pleasure,” he purred, the intensity of his movements ramping up and the intensity of your never ending peak with it.

You were spilling all over his lap, crying out nonsensically while Esidisi built back up to the bed rattling rhythm from before. You’d never imagined feeling pleasure like this, dancing on the razor’s edge of pain, but never crossing it. The last part of your brain that still had any sense left wondered what love making like this could be building towards, as you were already cumming, but you could feel something building regardless.

You dimly wondered if some sort of double orgasm was possible and the thought was funny to you.

You wanted to share it, but between gasping and panting for breath and the lust clouding your mind you couldn’t get a word out.

Then you felt Esidisi slamming in hard and deep, flooding you with more of his divine warmth to the point of overflowing, and you had the answer for what could possibly beat ecstacy like you had been feeling before.

The last thing crossing your mind was complete and utter satisfaction before you completely and utterly passed out.

[moody-bloosh]

Give me some Fugo kiSses

when they cry (Pannacotta Fugo)

content warning! yandere stuff sacrificial lamb au 

yandere starter prompts (closed) - kisses + pannacotta fugo 

Pannacotta Fugo is the only son of the most influential family of your village. Your family has served his for generations and it is only because of that fact that you have the privilege to know him. For the village and even his family had scorned him as a monster for his strange white hair and piercing red eyes.

But to you, he was simply beautiful.

It was the case when you were first introduced to him as a child, and it remains still to this day now that you have both grown. Your mother was his wet nurse and you were raised together as milk siblings. You were his only friend, his only companion, the only person who did not revile him for his appearance. You would take to combing his hair, telling him all about your day that he might in turn try to live vicariously through you. Fugo would secretly teach you how to read, how to write, things that you were not allowed to learn ordinarily but skills that Fugo seemed eager to pass onto you, just so that he had someone to talk to him about his books, about the things he learned.

As you continued to grow, it quickly became apparent that his intellect was nothing short of just amazing. It was an insult not to call him anything but brilliant. Though people still disliked his appearance, he learned not to pay heed to any of their statements. Because the important thing was that you stayed by his side even though all the years that had passed by the two of you.

And then suddenly, you were ripped away from him.

You.

The only light in his bleak existence. His only friend. The only person he had ever loved.

There was a tradition in your village, one that was centuries old. It was said that there was a monster that dwelled within the forest that seemed to ensnare and wrap around the village. The monster had never outright harmed your people for it only demanded one thing in exchange for keeping your little village safe.

Human sacrifice.

Through an unknown selection process that was privy only to the elders of your town, a single person was selected. In exchange for one human life, the village would be guaranteed safety, security - even a bountiful harvest. Your life would be snuffed out, all for the sake of all those horrible villagers who had only ever scorned him, who had been disgusted by him. When they come to take you away, he fights tooth and nail to keep them from taking you. At least until he’s wrestled into the ground and you beg for leniency for his take.

Before they take you away, you comfort him, one last time. You hold him tight and you press a kiss against his forehead. Sure you were terrified. But you supposed maybe that … if it was for his sake, you wouldn’t mind. Because you would have done anything to protect him, to keep him safe.

“I’m doing this … because I love you,” you said gently, a little serene smile on your face, even as the elders dragged you away. Like a lamb to the slaughter, to be ‘prepared’ until you were set to be devoured by the ancient, unknowable evil that demanded blood from your village. .

The night before you are to be sacrificed, right after they had dragged you away, he sneaks into the ceremonial hut you are to be kept in. You are a vision, dressed in a white gauzy fabric. Your eyes are a little red from crying, as is natural with someone about to be killed the next day. And then you hear him. His voice coming in through the little window that lit up the hut.

You try to ease your tearful hiccups and you turn to look at him smiling, “y-yeah, Fugo?”

Even in the face of death, you thought of him. Of how you didn’t want to see him off with a frightened or sad look in your eyes. Though your resolve quickly crumbles when he reaches his hand out to you. You carefully walk over to the window and gently clasp his hand, pressing it against your face as you looked up at him.

“I wish we had more time together,” you say sadly, your eyes bright with the beginnings of more tears and your lips formed in a sad smile.

“And we will,” he reassures you, his tone fraught with heartache. “We’ll have all the time in the world.”

Fugo purses his lips for a moment as he looks at you, trying to memorize every last bit of your face. He trembles. This … this couldn’t be it for the two of you, right? His voice is shaky as he speaks again.

“Do you want to die together?” His voice is heartbreaking to say the least, his eyes are bright with unshed tears as he clutches onto you, looking at you desperately, “just as we’ve been together as children for so long. We’ll be together even in death.”

“No,” you hiss out desperately, clutching onto his hand tightly. “Y-you have to live for my sake! Don’t throw your life away for me.”

“It’s the only thing I can do, a world without you … maybe it’s not a world worth living in. If the village wants to sacrifice you, maybe it’s not worth saving!”

As he says those words, something flickers in his mind. A dark idea, whispered by the devil himself. He smiles as he looks up at you, a terrible smile on his face.

“I know,” he says happily. “I know how to keep you safe now.”

You blink at him, surprised, not really understanding the deeper meaning of his words

Cupping your face through the window, he wipes your tears away. “I promise, I’ll save you and if I can’t - at the very least we’ll be together.”

Your eyes widen in horror - what was he going to do?!

“N-no!” You gasp out as he pulls away from you, reaching out for him, “F-Fugo! Don’t! I swear it’s okay, y-you don’t have to do anything that puts your life at risk!”

But he doesn’t hear you. All he can think about … is a life with you. A future with you.

It was so close, he could taste it.

He makes his way to the deepest part of the forest, the cave the monster called its home - the site of your murder for tomorrow. He doesn’t quite know what he expects to see, for he certainly did not believe in the existence of a monster. But lo and behold, he had found one. The creature is strange - taller than most men, checkered with white and purple and it’s inhuman eyes bore right into him. Copious amounts of drool drips from the monster’s strange lips. The creature slinks out of the dark cavern and stops, facing him. Everything is quiet for a long moment as he regards the creature.

“You’re not the sacrifice, are you?” It’s voice is ragged, a dangerous edge to its tone dripping of its words but it sounds bored.

“I’ve come to cut you a deal,” Fugo says carefully, emboldened. How curious that he, reviled as a monster, was now speaking to a true monster so casually.

“Oh? And what mind that be, little human,” the monster croons, slithering closer and closer to Fugo.

“You can forgo this ritual sacrifice nonsense and just do as you wish,” he says coldly. “Take the whole village for yourself but let the sacrifice and I escape.”

“And what should keep me from devouring you two, hm?”

“Simple,” he says easily, in such a matter of fact way that anyone who was listening would have no choice but to obey. “While you enjoy your meal of the whole village we escape, and tell me, what would two forgettable morsels be when you’re already gorging on the whole village hm?”

“And what’s stopping me from eating you and the next sacrifice, hm?”

Fugo stares back at the monster, unblinking.

“Because you would be foolish not to take my offer. The greatest meal of your life, a never ending banquet, and you want to give up all that for two little morsels? Perhaps you’re even more of a fool than I thought.”

The monster seems to consider his words getting terrifyingly close to him. But Fugo barely even blinks. No matter what happened… he would be with you regardless. The monster seems to smile and then it slowly heads back into its cave.

“If I find you two still around by daybreak, I’ll devour you both, regardless.”

All you remember is being led through the forest. Your eyes red and swollen from the crying and your heart heavy with anxiety, worry over what Fugo could have possibly done. Thankfully you see him at the procession. The one that all the adult villagers took as they led you to the monster. Your heart lightens considerably though you can’t help but have a bit of suspicion for how … how Fugo smiled as he looked at you. As if … he knew something the others didn’t.

You’re pushed to the front of the cave and everyone waits with bated breath for the monster to arrive. But instead, the forest comes to be bathed in a heavy fog. One that Fugo happily takes advantage of as he grabs you by the hand and whisks you away. You have no idea what is happening, only hissing at Fugo quietly not to mess up the ritual. But of course he doesn’t stop.

And then the screaming starts. And you don’t have to hear the words come from his lips because you just know. You’ve been with him since you were children, you were his closest friend, his only confidant…

He’s sacrificed the whole village for your sake.

When he leads you through the dark forest, amidst the fires and the screaming. His hold on you is tight enough to bruise. Your breathing is ragged, your cheeks soaked from your crying. All around you can hear dying gasps, fearful screaming as the monster tears through the adults. Fugo leads you away from all that.

You’re terrified more than anything.

Because you know now that the true monster is taking you by the hand, and leading you away from the slaughter - the slaughter he had concocted.

All for you.  

[yandere-daydreams]

Kinktober - Day Thirty

Prompt: Handcuffs

Pairing: Hawks/Reader (Boku No Hero Academia)

TW: Non-Consensual Touching, Groping, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Themes of Imprisonment, and Implied Kidnapping.

“Gotta say, I never thought I’d meet a bad guy so pretty.”

You could feel his hands on your waist, gloved fingers brushing over skin-tight spandex and forming a trail from the curves of your shoulders to your lower back, where Hawks choose to linger, now. On either side, his wings caged you in, accommodating for his lack of height by making him seem bigger and, more importantly, making you seem smaller, but that wasn’t your main concern. Since the day you were born, heroes had treated you like something insignificant, something lesser. You hadn’t expected Hawks to be any different after he found you, left to serve as a distraction by the gang you thought you could trust. You knew he wouldn’t be any better. You were alright with that. You’d come to terms with it.

You just wished he’d stop talking, while he flaunted his superiority.

Another squeeze, this one to the side of your thigh. A search, he’d explained, he was searching you, but beyond forcing you to face the unpainted brick wall, it was a half-hearted effort. You were a sacrificial lamb, something meant to be captured, the metallic cuffs around your wrists were proof of that - cutting into your forearms, dangling your quirk just out of reach as he held the chain, keeping your hands pinned to the base of your spine with little more than the slightest bit of pressure and the suggestion of his weight. You weren’t sure why he bothered with the professional pretense. You get-up was form-fitting, sheer, leaving little to the imagination and even less effectively obscured. He’d noticed, and he hadn’t bothered pretending he hadn’t. Hell, he’d been eyeing you up like a piece for meat since the moment he discovered you, abandoned and restrained and just waiting to be rescued by a big, strong hero.

It was the worst when he spoke. It was the most obvious, when he spoke. “Agency’s been givin’ me the difficult ones, lately - real scum of the earth types, y’know? Not that I mind, I know it’s my job to keep trash like that, like you off the street, but…” He trailed off, his voice fading into a laugh. Slowly, you felt him lean against you, red feathers ruffling as his chest pressed against you back, his hands trailing back to your hips. You went stiff, but if Hawks noticed, he didn’t care. Not enough to stop, at least. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. There isn’t a man on the force who wouldn’t be thankful for the view, after a long day.”

You couldn’t use your quirk, couldn’t fight back in any way that mattered, but you could reel back, drive the heel of your boot into his foot, and only pull away when he let out a mumbled string of swears. His grip tightened, a small frown soon pressing into the junction of your lower neck, but for some reason, his disappointment did little to dampen your sense of satisfaction. “Eat shit, hero.”

“So mean, sweetheart.” He was whining, now, his tone pitchy, frustrating. You were used to people like him, people who’d run their drills and nurtured their strengths and polished themselves into something shiny, into something that didn’t have to take anyone else seriously, but no amount of exposure could stop your impatience from building up, simmering and starting to boil over the longer he dragged this out, the longer he held onto that innocent, careless facade and kept his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. It was irritating. It was annoying, and he refused to make it end any faster. “Here I am, trying so hard to play nice, but you just can’t return the favor, can you? It makes sense, honestly. No one’s ever washed your mouth out for saying all those bad words, but you don’t have to--”

This time, you drove your elbow into his stomach, aiming to anger more than injure, but Hawks was faster than you. In a moment, he’d caught you by the shoulder, shoving you against the grimy wall and forcing your cheek against rough brick, your chest against a material too solid to be comfortable. “Hawks--”

“Keigo, baby, Keigo.” The correction was swift, practiced. Cooed in the same sympathetic, patronizing tone he’d use to correct a small child, if they told him the sky was green. “C’mon, can you say it for me? You sounded so precious, earlier, asking Mr. Hawks not to hurt you, begging me not to be too rough. You’ll do it again, won’t you?”

“Bastard.” You hadn’t begged, you’d never begged. You were vulnerable, and you’d done what you had to do to keep yourself safe. You weren’t that brave, you’d rather spend a lifetime rotting in a cell than a minute bleeding out on the filthy floor of an empty warehouse, but you were beginning to regret not being just a little more bold. Even if he didn’t kill you, being shackled to a hospital bed would be leagues better than having his eyes tear into you, than feeling his smirk bite into your skin as he pushed a fleeting kiss into the corner of your jaw. For comfort, you assumed. “Just shut up and arrest me, idiot. I would’ve fought back if I knew you’d be such a creep.”

“Another bad habit we’ll have to train you out of,” He lamented, the thought punctuated with a shake of his head, a wistful sigh. Again, his attention drifted, his touch drifted, none of your muffled complaints and stifled squirming stopping him from snaking an arm around your waist, nimble fingers finding the collar of your costume. Your breath hitched in your throat as he toyed with the fabric, but forgivingly, mercifully, he didn’t move to rip through the thin material. His mind was somewhere else. “Do you honestly think I’d put this much effort into someone I’m just going to arrest?”

For the first time since he’d caught you, the panic truly, genuinely began to set in. Your pulse didn’t race, your heart didn’t pound its way through your ribs - instead, both seemed to stop. As if the implication alone would be enough to end you. “You’re not going to… What?”

“Aw, the poor thing’s speechless.” This time, when he pulled your body against his, you struggled. You fought and you kicked and you scratched, but your hands were bound, your only weapon already disposed of, and all Hawks had to do was beat his wings once before you went still, went quiet, before your blood ran cold and you realized that, handcuffs or no handcuffs, you were defenseless. “That’s it,” He praised, as you went limp against him. “No reason to fight. I’m gonna take you somewhere much nicer than prison, and you’re gonna learn to be grateful. I’m gonna be thankful for you, too.”

There was a pause, a smile soon pressed into your jugular. Giddy, unabashed. 

Just as sharp and just as sickening as any cage could ever hope to be.

“I’ve always wanted my own pretty little villain.”

[marshmallowprotection]

Calluna

Pairing: Saeran Choi/Reader

Fairytale AU.

Description:

The Prince has been bound to the castle walls, and he’s never been able to leave from it. The only place that he has to escape to are the books that he reads and the garden that he’s allowed to venture into every evening. But, what happens when he encounters someone that has eyes that know a world unlike his own?

Inspired by a drawing by @sensetenou​

Chapter Index

Chapter One: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Two: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Three: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Four: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Five: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Six: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Seven: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Eight: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Nine: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Ten: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Eleven: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Twelve: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Thirteen: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Fourteen: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Fifteen: Here! | AO3

Chapter Fifteen

You were bound with shackles against your ankles, sitting at the side of the king’s throne as if you were his glorified pet. 

The former-queen had taken her time to clean you up and dress you up like some kind of doll. You were wearing all black, as to be expected of someone that would soon lose their life but Saeran had made it clear that you weren’t going to die. 

Nothing made sense, but you had no choice but to bite your tongue. You had your answer as to what would become of Saeran in due time and now, your only hope was that you would be spared the sight of his end, or by some miracle, whatever Jihyun planned to do was going to work. He knew your friend Zen, and Zen had wanted to rescue you. 

Zen’s reach couldn’t protect you, but you knew that he would be the only person to know with certainty that you weren’t Red Hood. He was the only person in the world that was on your side and for once, you wished that you had listened to him and left when you got the chance to run. It would have been the smart thing to do. 

Perhaps, if you had taken a boat to freedom across the sea long ago, things would be different than they were now. It was funny, you missed the sea and the open waters. Growing up, you had lived in a town by the sea someways away from the main center of the kingdom, and the water called to you as it called to adventure for many people. 

However, your parents had wanted you to stay in your studies and become a scholar. They would be disappointed to know that you had thrown all your studies away and saw where you were now, but it didn’t matter anymore. There was no changing this and there was no changing what was happening, no matter how much your heart told you to swat the crown from Saeran’s head.

You weren’t even sure if the effect of the crown would leave if it left his head. 

Magic was still this abstract construct where anything and everything cruel was a possibility. This witch who wanted to use her power for her gain would ensure that you didn’t understand what was happening enough to stop it. She may have admitted that she planned on killing everyone but that was not explaining how the magic worked. 

You were alone, save for the guards posted at the door to ensure that you didn’t get out of your chains and run. As if you had any tools to pick your lock and leave! Your fists clenched at the fabric of your sleeves tightly, grinding your teeth despite yourself as the frustration tore through you.

The amount of desperation that you felt was tried and true. 

The anticipation was meant to drive you mad. 

Saeran was miking the time with whatever he was doing because the sun had already started glow with the embers of the evening sun soon to set on the horizon and break away to the long night with no moon to enshroud the world; The only thing remaining for yourself and others stuck under the haze was a path of anguish. 

And here you were, trapped like a sacrificial lamb. 

There was nothing for you to do but ruminate and sit. Your mind wandered for quite some time as you grew used to the way that you were ignored and set aside, and the silence was far more welcoming than anything that you had dealt with thus far. You thought perhaps that your punishment was to sit here and wait, forever, for no one to come and see you. 

It was almost worst than being trapped in the basement. At least down there, you didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing you. It was dark and you could grow accustomed to the dark as you had with the chains that had bound you to Red Hood. It wasn’t about your comfort, no, you weren’t going to be given that anymore. 

The queen made that abundantly clear when she told you what you would be within the coming days and that was deceased. 

You weren’t sure how much time passed but eventually, the doors to the room opened and you were given the sight of Saeran. A crown set upon his brow and the black cape over his shoulders letting you know that he’d just returned from his business outdoors where the smog had started to overrun the grounds of the castle with the brewing guard. 

Gone were the flowers and sunshine, replaced with anger and smoke from the brimstone fire to burn you all alive. 

His eyes rested squarely on you as the sneer caught your eye. He was seemingly happy to see you caught in his trap next to the phone, beaming at the sight of the chains around your legs that kept you close to his side. He said nothing to you but he took his spot on the throne, resting his head in his hand as he gestured to the guard. 

“Send them in,” he ordered. 

Who?

Your answer was given to you sooner, rather than later, as you watched the guard bring in some very familiar faces from the dungeons. You knew them from your work with Red Hood, one by one, you took note of countless thieves that were in the same boat as you. They had no choice but to obey and to serve the crooked man. He had left them for dead, and whoever hadn’t been caught was now forced to… you knew they had been forced into the mindless army that the queen was creating and thanks to Red Hood, there was an endless supply of people who already meant nothing to many. 

These people would likely face the same fate as them, forced to be drones that would die for the queen that wanted to bend everyone to her will. 

If they didn’t get killed first as an example of what would happen against those that turned against her, then they would likely die on the fields of battle as those kingdoms tried to fight against the threat that would usurp them all. They all saw you as well, and you knew that they knew the truth. But, if any of them pitied you, they didn’t say. 

They wouldn’t tell the king that you weren’t Red Hood, either. 

There was a chance that many of them could stay in the grace of the true Red Hood if they didn’t bow their head to this. You were merely a puppet for them and there was nothing… no one that would stand up for you. You looked down at the floor the second that you knew that nobody was going to come to your side or defense. 

You accepted that. 

There was no fighting back against this disgraceful degradation. 

Saeran didn’t like that. The chains binding you to his side were tugged hard and you were forced against his side, a gasp leaving your lips as he gazed into your pathetic eyes. You had nothing to say because you were too stunned for words. 

“Pathetic, huh?” his voice called your attention. “I suppose you’ve all realized that your leader had submitted to my will. It wasn’t like they had any say in the matter, hahaha. Take this as a lesson, never dare turn against the crown or you’ll be strung up like my pretty pet here is. You’ll wish for death as mercy instead.” 

There was a resounding silence to his words. Nobody had anything to say in regards to that. They all knew well what he was saying and where they would be. The frenzied part of you almost wished that you were under a curse as well, the humiliation dragging against your pride and kicking you where it hurt the most. 

Saeran’s gaze never left yours. “Have you decided to plead for mercy? Come now, you’re amongst your fellow criminals and allies. Why don’t you show them how weak you truly are? Why don’t you let them know who it was that brought you to your knees?” 

And you were like a caged animal, pushed against the wall with nowhere to go as the bigger monster forced himself into your personal space for the kill. Despite yourself, you shivered because you felt his shaking excitement at your fears. A part of you wanted to believe it was the crown but another part of you had a feeling that this angry, vindictive side of him had always been there. 

Angry at the fate that the world had dealt him. 

Angry at what happened to Ray because he trusted others. 

Angry because he was fueled by the people around him. 

“Tell them,” he persisted. “Tell them what you did, Sparrow. Tell them how you tried to trick a crowned prince to steal everything he had and what it earned you. You know, go on, tell the story from your perspective! I’m sure you had a good laugh about it when your men at your side, laughing at the prince you tried to ensnare with your wiles.” 

You knew that fighting against his words was fruitless, but still, you hated the way that he looked at you like you were the source of the grief. It wasn’t you that had hurt him or trapped him here. It wasn’t you that perceived him to be a fool and took him for the trouble. It was you that had extended your hand to a lonely soul who wanted a friend, and it was you that wanted to protect him.

You were willing to throw your happiness away to ensure that Ray would live. 

You were not Red Hood. 

You were not a caged bird for anyone’s amusement. 

And if that resistance that existed within your spurned heart, Saeran could see it from the way that you looked at him. Opening your mouth, you could feel yourself about to say something that you knew would be something you’d regret in the coming hours, but the humiliation of everyone seeing you in such a miserable state. 

At least, you would have said something, if it wasn’t for the newcomer that was dragged into the room, a verbal lashing on his lips as he kicked against the constraints that he had been locked away in. It was a voice that made your eyes snap away from Saeran’s immediately, looking for the warm crimson orbs that had looked after you for years as a big brother. 

“If you think you can treat me like this, you’re sorely mistaken. I didn’t do anything, so you can unhand me! Do you think this is any way to run your damn kingdom’s guard? You’re all a damn disgrace to the guard.” 

“...!” 

“Ah, the White Devil,” the chuckle from your side was enough to warn you of something that no one was supposed to know. “It took some work to track him down but there was no way that I could let your right-hand man go without punishment. He’s been living in disguise as an actor for some time, but those features aren’t ones that he can hide.”

Your heart sank as you met Zen’s eyes. He saw you trapped and narrowed his eyes at the king. It was the same boy that you had told him about as far as he knew, and if anything, it confirmed that he had given you the wrong advice. Zen would do anything to protect you, you knew he would, and the only reason he had gotten caught was that Red Hood likely leaked his identity. 

He lashed out further against the guards, “How dare you,” he growled. “How dare you treat them like a filthy animal—”

Zen was forced onto the ground the more that he fought them, and before long, his head was pressed to the ground. He was exhausting himself and only making things worse for himself. Jihyun had told you that he wanted to rescue you, but there was no chance that even he could come and remove you from this gilded cage.

You wished that he would have run when he got the chance, it would have been better for him, “Zen, stop fighting them,” you pleaded. You reached out an arm to him but it would never see his side. “It’s not worth it!” 

“Yeah,” Saeran mocked the tone in your voice. “Stop fighting the guard, listen to your boss, and maybe I’ll spare you some pity for your crimes. Come now, it’s worth a shot. Surely you know how to act like a gentleman. You shouldn’t act so distasteful in front of your boss, Red Hood, or your king. It isn’t becoming of a man of your age.”

With his tantrums, he had no right to talk about anger problems. 

Zen’s fight slowly died down the longer that he was forced down, and when the fight in his arms had calmed down, he looked at Saeran. “That’s where you’re wrong. They’re not Red Hood,” he said. The clamor in the room had started to quiet down as you felt the man beside you tense with anger. “They have never been Red Hood. You should know this, king, or have that crown of yours sucked all of the power from your head?” 

“How dare you question my intelligence—” 

You were pleading with Zen silently to stop fighting. You cared about him but he didn’t have to throw his life on the line for yours. He had already done that when you were a child and you refused to let him suffer through something just because he wanted to protect you again. You were an adult now and this was your cross to carry. 

“I question your objectivity,” Zen corrected him with a scoff. “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that someone as young as them could kill a seasoned criminal and control his command? Not only that but convince everyone that they are him so easily. If Red Hood had been killed, then one of those that had much of his power would take that spot. You think a penniless sparrow could fight grown fighters with no injuries?” 

Zen was a slave to no one, not anymore, and you could see the fire in his eyes that spoke of a man that feared no higher power. 

“It seems to me like someone wants you to believe that it was the sparrow instead,” he continued as he met your gaze. “And, you’re far too angry and prideful to admit that you might have been wrong and you’ve committed to a lie that you’ve been told to believe.”

You could hear no sound in the mirror as Saeran rose from his chair. Nobody dared to make a sudden noise or movement as he approached Zen. The guard hoisted from the ground so that he would be forced to look into the mint eyes of an angry demon with nowhere to go but here in the pits of hell that he walked through.

“Filthy mutt,” he hissed. “If you value your miserable life then you’ll stop while you’re ahead and shut the hell up. I’ll string you up by the gallows and force the bird to watch as it happens, and it will be all their fault for not teaching you respect.” 

“If anyone should learn some respect, it’s the man lying right as he speaks to me about what he believes,” Zen spat with vigor.  “They cared about you with all their heart and you’ve repaid them by turning  against the only person in your life that wants to protect you from those that abuse your authority.” 

Silence. 

“If they cared about me as you claim, then they wouldn’t have tried to steal the crown that was meant for me, White Devil. Their true crime was lying to the crown. Theft is one thing, but toying with the hearts of others for your enjoyment is the ultimate crime. You know that. Liars are those that are the most shameful. Like yourself, conning the hearts of others to get what is it you want. I can only presume that they learned their deception from—”

“Stop!” your voice cut in before Zen could say anything in response. 

All eyes in the room snapped back in your direction as you allowed yourself to have the floor, and you ignored the looks of their emotions as your hands clenched at the fabric of the shirt.

 “It’s not worth it, Zen,” you said. “I’m already damned. Don’t throw away your life to protect me. I’m not a kid, I’m not helpless. Thank you for what you’ve done for me but please, I’m begging you, stop. Stop fighting, there is no hope left.” 

The misery in your heart told you there was no hope left. 

But, Zen refused to stop hoping for a brighter tomorrow. 

“You might have given up on your life, but I haven’t!” he said, looking at you with that fierceness he never lost. “You’re not Red Hood. Don’t take this lying down! You don’t have to pay for crimes that you never committed. Don’t let them push you around, this isn’t you. The [Y/N] I know would never wallow in pity or accept this humiliation!” 

The shame that washed over you forced you to bow your head to the floor. No matter what Zen said, you couldn’t let him suffer for you. That was why you swallowed the pooling fire instead and looked at Saeran, “Zen was never involved in any of this. Please, don’t punish him for my sins. It isn’t right. You can’t do that.” 

And Saeran just laughed in your face, “That’s where you’re wrong, Sparrow. Anyone that has had the misfortune of working with you will know the same fate in my eyes. As much as I love to hear you finally begging, I don’t think I’ll spare this one. He means a lot to you and that means he should pay for that sin with his life.”

This is the price of your sins, that voice echoed through your mind. You know what it feels like to be isolated and destroyed the same way that Ray was.

The laughter of the vindictive marionette king echoed in the chamber as wetness began to roll down your cheeks. 

“Don’t fall for it, [Y/N]!” You snapped your attention to Zen as he was being dragged out of the room to the dungeons. “That’s not who he is! Listen, don’t stop fighting! Never stop fighting for yourself up here!  You need to pluck the apple from the tree. Remember, as you did when I took you on your first assignment!” 

The… apple?

Your eyes widened. 

He was talking about the crown.

[justasparkwritings]

The Word of Your Body: Strip {2}

 Previous: Unpretty

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

Genre: Smut / Angst / Slice of Life

Rating: NC17

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Swearing, Body Insecurity, Consensual P-V Sex, Very Light Dom/Sub, Light Body Worship, Light Edging, Self Confidence, Vaginal Fingering

Listening: Strip by Little Mix

Master List

��   You sat at your vanity, plucking a stray chin hair that your fingers had stuck to like a cactus to dry heat. You set the tweezers down, tossing your hair into a tight bun before grabbing the make-up remover and slowly removing the paint you had placed on your skin. As you began to wash your face, you heard Namjoon enter, making his way through the bathroom to the closet to grab his gym shoes. Through squinted eyes and blurred vision, you made out his basketball shorts hanging dangerously low on his hips, an oversized t-shirt covering his broad shoulders.

           “Babe, do you want to go to the gym with me?” He asked, lightly smacking your ass on his way to sit on the edge of your shared bed. He carefully loosened the laces of his gym shoes before tucking them carefully into his gym bag.  

           “Why did you ask me that?” You questioned, turning the faucet off and delicately pressing a clean towel to your freshly washed skin. You shook your head. He was truly helpless.

           “I thought we could bond, work out together,” He said, standing and setting his gym bag just outside your bedroom door.

           “I worked out yesterday,” You said, scanning his body through the mirror as you applied your eye cream and azelaic acid to your problem areas.

           “Yes, but you could come with me today, too,” He strode to you, slipping his hand under your shirt to rest against your bare skin, his chin lowering to rest on your shoulder.

           “Why?” Indignation was your favorite attitude, particularly when it came to teasing Namjoon.

           “Working out every day makes you feel –

           “No, it makes you feel,” You corrected, finishing applying your double layer of moisturizer. You turned in his arms, only to point a finger into his chest. He smirked down at you, eyes darting to your lips.

           “I just thought we could spend some time together at the gym,” He responded, bringing the finger that was in his chest to his lips. He kissed it softly and let you drag it across his bottom lip.

           “Oh really?” You asked, taking your finger from his lip to place it between your own. “Or are you trying to tell me you don’t like my body?”

           “What? Of course, I,” He was caught off guard by your shift in tone, was this not just flirting?

           “What? You want me to work out with you, so do you not like my body? Or do you just tolerate it?” You smirked, the shock on his face feeding into your ego. He wouldn’t make the connection between you washing your face, a sign you were not going to the gym at 7PM, and you blatantly subverting his attempt to get you under him.

           “I think you’re beautiful, and sexy, and so strong,” He said, trying to make sense of the game you were spitting.

          You called them fighting words. Words meant to rile him up, to start something. Neither of you used them in your average couple squabbles, but when you wanted to dominate, you often cornered him into submission. It was more rewarding to circumvent Namjoon’s expectations than to ask him for what you wanted.

           You shoved him back, pushing him out the bathroom and back into the bedroom, where his knees buckled as they hit the side of the bed. It was then that he realized what you were doing.

           “Oh, you do? Is that why you want to go to the gym with me? To watch my ass when I do squats? To see my fat jiggle on the elliptical? To ogle me while I’m stretching?”

           “I want all of it,” He said.

           “Ah, so now you love my body? How softly it envelopes you, how it holds you tight? You love my stretch marks? That place on my knee where the razor never seems to get? The freckles on my neck? You love all of it?”

           “I love all of it, I worship it,” He gulped, Adams apple bobbing.

           “Oh you do?” You straddled his lap, grinding into his crotch, pleasantly surprised to feel it already hardening. “Prove it.”

           He flipped you over in the middle of the bed and held your hands above your head as he rolled his body into yours. He moved one had down your cheek, cupping your face as he lowered his lips to yours. His lips were plump and soft. He’d begun using your Chapstick every night before bed in an attempt to copy how soft your lips were. He’d grown accustomed to it and was pleasantly surprised when he left for tour and you’d given him the rest of the jar to use.

           Namjoon used those lips to slowly suckle on your neck, moving towards the collar of your t-shirt.

           “Start at the bottom,” You demanded, hands pulling at the hairs on the back of his neck. “And take your shirt off, slowly.”

           He knelt at the end of the king-sized bed and removed his shirt in what you could only describe as a strip tease. He rolled his body and flexed his muscles, highlighting the work he had done in the gym.

           “Stop showing off.”

           He froze and stared down at your clothed body before slowly laying down, hands moving to your hips.

           “Pants only,” You stated, squirming at his cool touch on your hips. His hands guided the cotton of your joggers down your legs inch by inch. With every inch exposed, he placed sloppy kisses to your left thigh, his left hand kneading the supple skin. His teeth grazed over your knee, fingers tickling the erogenous zone behind your cap. He continued down your leg and paused at your feet, tickling the underside before slowly lowering his lips over your big toe.

           Toes were a kink of Namjoon’s, specifically sucking your toes. He loved mimicking the motions of sucking your clit, swirling his tongue around the tip of your toes, hollowing his cheeks as he did so. You’d never been into toes before, having yours sucked or sucking others. But with Namjoon, it was always a pleasure.

           He moved from your left foot to your right, slowly repeating the process in the reverse order, all the way back up your right leg.

           “I love your thighs,” He said, massaging them in between kissing and sucking your inner thighs. “I love how they feel wrapped around my head. I love how they hold me to you when I’m fucking you. I love how they quiver and shake and when I do this,” He leaned his body up, pressing his lips to yours while slipping his fingers into your underwear. His index finger stroked up and down your folds, once, twice, three times before dipping into your center. His tongue simultaneously found its way past your lips, tangling aggressively with yours.

           You moaned into his mouth while your tongues danced. Open mouthed and violent, you continued to kiss as he slipped two more fingers in. You turned your head to the side, chest heaving. His name slipping in between

           “Namjoon, please,”

           “Please what?” He asked, a smug smirk on his face. His hand slowed down as he removed two of his fingers. His thumb, which had made its way to your clit, stopped circling as he stared at you, mouth open. “What do you want me to do?”

           You snapped your head to him, eyes glowering.

           “If you can’t make me cum, move and I will do it myself,” You said. “Or did you forget that you are worshiping my body?” He hadn’t noticed your free hand was gone from his hair until it twisted his nipple, eliciting a gasp and moan. “So if you think you can, take off my panties and prove it.”

           Namjoon scrambled down your body again, removing your underwear and tossing it towards the hamper. His tongue licked up your folds before a hand moved to separate your lips. You spread your legs further, giving him better access to your sex. You arched your back as his tongue began to swirl around your clit. He alternated between sucking the bud and gliding his tongue over it in a figure eight, if a figure eight could be done in seconds and send your body to nirvana. Your free hands moved directly to your nipples, which stood at attention waiting for someone to bring them into the action. You pinched and twisted, trying to mimic the feeling Namjoon’s hands did.

           You continued to moan his name, whimpering as he slowed down and sped up the minute your breathing seemed regulated. You had zero self-control when you were alone. Your vibrator could send you over the edge two, three times in one session. But it wasn’t the same as feeling Namjoon between you, the tongue he used to spit rhymes and whisper his love for you made his devouring of you even holier. He could edge you for days, months even. Teasing each other before he left for Korea, bringing each other close to the brink before he was gone touring for endless months. The pent-up tension made your reunion sweeter. Even when he edged you in the smallest sense, like tonight, made your release that much greater.

           There was no magic number, no pattern to when he would bring you close and pull back. You’d tried to calculate it, tried to keep track how many times before he let you cum. All you’d discovered was Namjoon could be vindictive or repentant, kneeling at your altar and offering a sacrificial lamb or delivering you to Pontius Pilate.  

           He rode out your high by continuing to draw smaller figures over your clit, pushing you closer and closer towards overstimulation. When your grip had loosened in his hair, he sat back on his haunches and used the hem of his shirt to wipe his face before he pulled it over his head. He licked his lips quickly, humming as he tasted you again. You sat up, breathe returning to normal but heart rate still high, and tossed your shirt off, leaving your breasts bare. Namjoon reached into his shorts to stroke his clothed member while he finished sucking you off his digits.

           “Did I say you could touch yourself?” You asked. He froze slowly taking his fingers out of his mouth.  

           “No,” Blush painted his cheeks.

           “So why are you?” You demanded.

           “I-

           “You will be lucky if I let you cum near me.” You said.

           “I’m sorry,”

           “Don’t be sorry, fuck me.”

           He pulled you onto your knees, lips entangling and hands gripping your ass. He bucked his hips against you, trying to find any sort of friction. He could feel the precum dampening his shorts and prayed you were only joking about letting him cum. He didn’t care if you made him jerk himself off, or allowed him to dry hump until he came in his pants, so long as he could cum.

           “I love your breasts,” He mumbled, lightly kissing your neck before drawing his teeth across your collarbone. He moved one hand to twist your nipple, before laying you down and taking it in his mouth. His name spilled from your lips, your hips searching for his as your core tightened.

           “I love how they feel in my hands. I love how they bounce when you ride my cock,” He moaned as you continued to grind into one another. He kept his pattern of drawing figure eights over your nipples, his hips still trying to gain traction with yours.

           “Baby, please,” He whined, unwilling to cum in his shorts.

“Please what?” You asked, eyes glossed over.

“Please, can I fuck you?” He asked pressing his forehead against yours.

           “Only if you come inside me, and you let my thick thighs hold you against me,” You said. He sat up and slid his shorts down, carelessly tossing them in the general direction of your own clothing. He moved to the top of the bed, back against the headboard, and beckoned you to sit in his lap.

           “I want to worship you while you ride me, give you the attention you deserve,” He said attaching his lips to yours again. Gripping the headboard on the sides of his broad shoulders, you spread your thighs onto either side of his lap and slowly moved your lips against his dick, coating it with your fluids. “Fuck, I love when we don’t need lube,” He mumbled against your lips, kissing you hard. You had caged him in, mentally and physically, your arms and thighs working to hold his muscular frame into space. The anticipation of your cunt around him, the promise of cuming, and your dominance over him was the only thing keeping him from losing it. And it was beginning to not work.

           You slowly lifted your hips, a hand moving from his cheek to his shaft, guiding him to you. As you slowly lowered yourself onto him, your eyes locked onto each other’s, both feeling like nirvana was close as he entered you. The stretch of him and the warmth of your core elicited curses and moans from both of your lips, mixing together into a sloppy kiss, teeth gnashing, tongues seeking each other out. He moaned your name, tightly closing his eyes and giving into your control. You pulsed your hips down onto his cock, moving up and down, an inch at a time.

           “Baby,” He moaned, eyes already blissed out.

           “Hmmm?” You teased. “You said you loved my body… Do you love how I control you? How my thick thighs hold you into place? Are you getting off on my stretch marks? How my body moves to fit you, big boy? How my workouts have given me the strength to take all of you, however I want?”

He knew your hundreds of Barre classes could be used against him, all the squats, strengthening your quads and back body. But you hadn’t ever used them like this, mimicking movements from class as you moved up and down him, slowly building his orgasm.

“I love all of you, every stretch mark, every roll, every part of you, fuck, you feel so good.” He was barely holding on. You had stroked his ego in just the right place and it caused him to start to buck his hips into you.

           His eyes snapped open as you began to move more quickly, taking more than an inch of him at a time. His hands instinctively went to your ass, where he squeezed and spanked it, turning both cheeks red. He moved his lips from your collarbone to your nipples, sucking and teasing them.

           “Namjoon, I need you,” You said, head lolling back as you felt your orgasm nearing. You needed more from him, more stimulation, a harder touch. He moved his mouth from your chest to your lips, and slipped a hand between your body’s, finding your clit instantly. He rubbed harsh circles as he felt you clench and tighten around him, calling out his name repeatedly, escalating in pitch and frequency as your orgasm reached its peak. You felt him twitch underneath you, moaning into your mouth as his orgasm came, overwhelming any sense he had left. He called your name as his thrusts up became sloppy and uneven. You rolled your hips a few more times, ensuring every drop of cum had made its way into your body, before rolling off of him and onto your back. He stayed seated, head against the headboard, chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to regulate his breath.

           “I love your body,” He said, glancing down at you. You moved your arm off of your face and stared up at him.

           “Thick thighs save lives,” You responded, smiling broadly at him.

           “Don’t you for a second think that using fighting words about your body is ever going to work again.” He said, sliding down the bed and pulling you to his chest.

           “Never say never, direct quote, Justin Bieber,” You said, still smiling. The blush and embarrassment of using your insecurities to wield power in the bedroom wasn’t something you did, ever. You felt instantly embarrassed that he’d recognized it.

           “I’m serious,” His smile faded, his voice low.

           “I know, Joon,” You nodded, closing your eyes as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. All was forgiven.

           “Good, because I do love your body, so much. I can’t wait for the day when I get to watch you swell and grow because you’re carrying our baby,” Namjoon whispered, hand on your cheek. The sincerity in his eyes said enough: he loved your body at every size, every shape, for what it could do, and for what it already did.

Next: You’re Gonna Be My Bruise

[giorno-plays-piano]

Treasure hunt Part 2

Pairing: dragon!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, mentions of breeding, non-con.

Words: 2035.

Summary: No knight would dare to save a sacrificial bride of the dragon.

Part 1

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Stepping on the cold stone floor of the cave, you carefully circled around the mountains of gold and silver and moved forward. Navigating in the dark was incredibly hard, but the soft glow of gems and shining armours here and there helped you to get through. 

You were in your old torn nightgown again, the fancy garments Steve had gifted you laying on the bed along all those necklaces, earrings, cuffs, broches and rings finished with precious stones. You didn't need any of those as you run towards your way out of the deep cave. The only thing you craved for was your freedom.

Almost tripping over the golden spear, you finally saw the moonlight coming from the entrance of dragon's dungeon. You held your breathe. You were so close.

In a second you sprinted towards it with gleeful abandon, thinking of the dark night sky, huge fields and mountains surrounding the cave. It was scary to think you would have to fend for yourself from now on, but you were a traveler. You could make it as long as no one tried to seize you like those villagers, now all gone thanks to the dragon's wrath. You gulped. You prayed he would sleep soundly while you sneak out in the darkness of the night.

A part of you felt guilty for leaving him after everything he had done for you, but being his little pet because he deemed you too feeble to leave was humiliating. Maybe you would find some other way to thank him for his generosity later. As of now, the only thing on your mind was getting away from this place.

You could already feel the slight chill in the air when you got closer to the huge entrance of the cave and rushed towards it, thinking of nothing else but the cool wind blowing outside. Your lips curled when you saw the moon and stars high above you. However, before you stepped on the grass, you felt a push so strong you ended up thrown far back at the rocky floor and yelped in sudden pain - you crushed your elbow, blood seeping from it on the cold stone beneath you. Tears sting at your eyes as you hugged your arm and bit down on your lip to stop screaming.

What was that? What had pushed you so hard it sent you flying? You saw nothing in front of you, no scary creatures guarding the entrance of the prison you were locked in. Yet something didn't want you leave.

... or rather someone.

In a few moments you heard a distant sound of flapping gaunt wings and stilled. You had awoken the dragon with your cry, and now he was coming for you. You had failed terribly.

His blue eyes were glowing in the dark brighter than gems as he flew to you in his true form, big as a mountain, while you stared at his scaled golden wings with horror. His monstrous shadow covered you from above before he started landing, his gaze disturbing, anxious. A flap of his wings set off a little tornado, and you pressed yourself to the floor in panic. He was going to eat you. Burn you. Make you suffer for your disobedience. You had to stay in the cave instead of opposing his wish to protect you.

You sobbed quietly once the dragon had partly changed his form in haste - although his body was human, his sharp claws and long tale belonged to the dragon, his new appearance strange and frightening. He hurried towards you, his eyes on your blood-stained arm.

"What happened to you, my love?" Steve asked, bending over and reaching for your elbow. "Why did you leave your bed?"

What could you answer? With eyes full of tears, you kept your mouth shut, watching him growing with worry at your silence. You had betrayed his trust. 

"I will heal your wound, stay still." He sighed when you chewed on your lower lip, afraid to look at him.

The ointment suddenly appeared in his hand as if by magic, and Steve had torn the cotton fabric forcefully to look at the blood seeping from your arm. He said nothing at all as he wiped the wound and applied fresh-smelling balm on your skin. You felt disgusted at yourself: your savior had been so patient and kind, yet you preferred to escape without expressing your gratitude.

"You gave up all the gifts I brought you, my love." The dragon stated calmly as he finished. "Why? Don't be silent, sweetheart. I demand you to speak."

Desperately wiping the tears falling again and again with the back of your hand, you nodded. You could not bring youself to open your mouth.

"Why?" He asked one more time, his eyes the same color as the dark sky again. "Why do you want to leave me, my love? Have I not treated you kindly? Have I not given you everything you wanted?"

"I want to see the night sky." You muttered under your breathe, looking at the torn hem of your nightgown. "I want to feel the grass under my feet and listen to the chirping of the crickets."

"You are not my prisoner, sweetheart. I can bring you wherever you want me to."

A whine rebounded from your chest at his words.

"I don't want to be a sacrificial lamb." You sobbed, shaking your head desperately. "I don't want to be a pet. I don't want to ask for permission every time I step outside the cave."

"You are not my pet." The dragon whipped his huge sharp tail with such force it ruined one of the mountains of gold close to it, and you squeezed your eyes shut, terrified of his temper tantrums. "You are the one I've chosen to keep by my side, shield from the dangers of the world and share my treasures with you so you would share yours. Why isn't it enough? What else do I have to do?"

He pressed his lips together in a thin line, his claws dangerously close to your body as if he were going to sank them in your sensitive flesh and tear you apart. He would kill you, oh he would, you felt it in your bones. 

"I have nothing to give you, Steve, Sarah's son." You uttered and finally raised your head to meet his darkened gaze. "And I want nothing from you. Why do you want to keep me? You won't profit from it."

His eyes softened at the sight of your flushed face, wet from tears still streaming down your cheeks and chin. You looked so pathetic in front of him in your old nightgown, degraded bloodstains covering once white fabric, yet so beautiful, so lovely it enraged him to think he could lose you despite all his efforts. It bewildered him how fast he had grown used to your calming presence, your smell, your voice. You said you had nothing to give him, but you were so wrong. He wanted you. He wanted to feel you close, see your pretty face, touch your tender body heavy with his child, your breasts full of milk... He wanted you like no other treasure of his. No one but you could give him what he desired the most.

All of a sudden, he jumped at you and covered your trembling shoulders with his callous palms, his hungry mouth devouring yours while you were frozen on the spot. His hot tongue had poked at your lips, and you gave up to him, granting him access and barely recognizing what you were doing. It felt like a shock jolted him, followed by a pleasant tingling, and the dragon slammed his mouth down against yours with a groan.

"You have a lot to give me." He crooned when you were left gasping for air, astounded and confused. "You have something no one but you can grant me, sweetheart."

You gasped once his clawed hands cupped your soft belly through the thin cotton fabric, watching the man panting and looming above you. You realized just how wrong you were, thinking of him as your protector, a knight in shining armor while he was exactly who villagers told you he was - a hungry monster craving for his bride's warm flesh, just in a different way. 

"No, no." You tried pushing him back, and his sharp tail hit the ground loudly, making you shiver. "P-please, I'm only human. I can't do it."

"My mother was human too." Letting out a chuckle, Steve lowered the nightgown on your shoulders while you desperately clenched the fabric in your arm, your other palm on his chest to prevent him from coming closer. "Why are you afraid? I won't harm you. In the end, this is the destiny of all women, isn't it? To become a good wife and mother. Surely, it is better to belong to me rather than any filthy peasant?"

You couldn't keep arguing, knowing your words would fall in deaf ears, and tried breaking free from his grip only to make the dragon more excited as he climbed on top of you, lifting the hem of your nightgown as his hands trailed upward. His palms were burning your thighs when you whimpered, shaking and moving beneath him like a snake. Why was he doing it? Did he force himself on each and every bride of his and got rid of them later once he got bored?

"Please, please let me go." You pleaded, feeling him leaving hot kisses down your neck and shoulders, his lips dry but soft. "Let me leave, I beg of you!"

"Oh you can't leave, sweetheart. You've eaten the dragon fruit, remember?" His toothy smile made you feel sick. "Now you are bound to me."

"Like all of them were?" You yelled in disgust and despair, staring at the dragon's hollowed blue eyes. "Did you truly let them go as you said? Or did you eat them when you no longer loved them?"

Your words made him laugh as he bared your breasts, ripping the fabric apart with his claws but avoiding touching your skin before his hands fully tranformed into human ones. Dragon's enourmous tail layed close to you, its razor-edged tip reminding you Steve could kill you within a few seconds.

Then he stroked your wet cheek with his fingers and cooed softly, his gaze darkening at the sight of your angered face. "None of them deserved to stay, sweetheart. I let them go. I don't know why you insist I eat humans as if I were a lowly beast, but if you're so eager to see me doing it, I will eat you."

Your mouth tasted like copper when you bit on your lip too hard, missing the mischievous look in Steve's bright blue eyes as you flinched from his touch, his tail now pressing you to the cold stony floor. The dragon backed down a bit, and you saw how he hungrily looked at your thighs and belly. He prepared to devour you, tear your flesh apart, and you were to die at his hands for your stubbornness and stupidity. Trembling like a leaf, you shut your eyes, preparing for the end.

Then you winced from a tender touch, Steve caressing your naked mound with his hand lovingly, his eyes watching you intently. What was that? Was he going to sank his teeth into?..

You covered your mouth with your palm as you felt his long wet tongue on your gentle folds. Gods, it would be even more painful than you had ever imagined. This perverted monster wanted to devour your womanhood. But before you could cry out in pain, you suddenly mewled from his pleasurable kitten licks and squirmed, trying to get up to see what the dragon was doing.

"W-wha..."

"I'm sorry, my dear." Steve smirked, raising his head a bit and pressing a shameless kiss to your mound. "But this is how I like to eat cute little girls like you. So, keep this pretty hand away from your mouth and let me show you how good I can make you feel."

_____________

Tags: @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @kawairinrin

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Hello! Just wondering could you do a Dabi/Touya and Shouto brothers fluff? I really love these two characters and I'm dead set on the theory that Dabi is Touya Todoroki. Also, I really want to see a fic of these two in your writing because you're an amazing writer. Please and thank you!

THIS MAKES MY HEART!!!! SO HAPPY!!!! AH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! I HOPE THAT YOU ENJOY THIS LITTLE FIC!!!!!

Fuck Todoroki Enji. Fuck that piece of shit right to Hell.

Touya shifted to his side with a groan, hissing when a fresh welt on his wrist touched the sparring mat floor, and waited for the spots in his vision to flicker away. Everything hurt. His head was pounding miserably for some reason he couldn't recall at that moment. He yanked his arm back towards himself and glared down at the mat, as if it had put him in the shitty position. If only it had. He could torch the damn thing to oblivion and never have to deal with this kind of agony again! Instead, he was stuck like this, littered in welts and bruises and burns, wondering why whatever greater power there was liked to screw him over like this.

He tapped a tender spot on his head and remembered why, exactly, he'd been left as a crumpled heap on the floor. He forced himself to his feet, forcing his legs to hold steady, while his eyes swept the room. He spotted him across the room, curled in on himself and whimpering. His right side was up in the air, jagged bits of ice protruding from his shoulder and arm, like some kind of frigid makeshift shield.

Touya slumped his shoulders in a bit of relief before starting to make his way over. He had to take it slow to keep from agitating the various wounds he knew lurched under his shirt. "Shoto," he called quietly, stopping a few steps away from the other.

There was a hiccuping, choked breath before a pale grey eye fixed on him. "Touya?" he mumbled, his voice shaking. Whether that was from fear or overexerting his ice Quirk, though, the older boy couldn't say.

"Yeah. Come on, get up. We need to get patched up before that old bastard comes back or Fuyumi finds us. You know how she gets," he said, holding a hand out to him.

Shoto's movements were sluggish and stiff, his right side so frosted over his limbs couldn't move easily. Touya sighed and pulled him into a sitting up position before hobbling back across the room. Their old man wasn’t a particularly kind man, but one of the few graces he offered was a medical kit being kept in the room. Though, if he was honest, he suspected it had less to do with care for his kids and more for the sake of peace. He’d started stashing them there after a few incidents where, after particularly grueling sessions, Fuyumi had panicked over treating he and Shoto that he kept them there. Listening to his mistake of a daughter fretting over his precious little masterpieces’ must have been so inconvenient for a Pro like Endeavor, after all. He would become incredibly aggressive and agitated whenever Fuyumi and Natsuo tried to speak out and protest what their father put their oldest and youngest brother through. More times than not, he would scream and shout at the pair, breaking them down with his words much worse than any blade ever could, and then retaliate on Touya and Shoto with harsher training, with pushing their limits that much farther.

Filthy monster. Bastard. And for what? Some delusional idea of what he was owed by his field of work? A revolting sense of entitlement?

He cast the thought aside as he returned to Shoto’s side with the medical kit. The gauze covering Shoto’s left side was damp and Touya mentally prepared himself to have to change it. The other boy always flinched away from having that wound tended; whether because it was still tender only a week later, or simply that the memory tugged at his young heart too terribly, he couldn’t say. The younger boy was still trembling like a leaf, the ice coating his right side still as pronounced as before. “Come here, Shoto,” he mumbled, holding his arms out.

The younger shuffled over and Touya carefully pressed him to his chest, adjusting his own internal temperature and calling a small flame up in one hand to hold in front of the younger boy. He really shouldn’t still be using his Quirk, with how his body ached and his very bones seemed to throb in protest, but he forced himself to do it anyway. “Thank you, Nii-Chan,” he mumbled, holding his own trembling and blistered hands up towards it.

“You could use your own fire to keep yourself warm, you know,” he pointed out.

He whined and shook his head, slumping into him more. “No. My fire is bad like Father’s fire is bad,” he muttered back.

He snorted. “And my fire is so different?”

“It is. Nii-Chan’s fire is warm in a good way. A safe way. It could never hurt me, because Nii-Chan would never hurt me,” Touya’s eyes widened as he stared down at his youngest sibling, at how his small form was so lax in his arms. He bit his tongue as he held the other, watching the ice melt away and his shivers faded. He took his time in tending to Shoto’s wounds, being mindful of his comfort while still assuring his wounds were well tended. There was only so much he could do with the limited supplies in the medical kit but he tried, his mind whirling.

“You will fight Shoto as an equal. Hit him with the full brunt of your fire,”

“I won’t,”

“You will do as you are told, you ungrateful little-!”

“I’m not going to hurt my brother just because you told me to!”

His own body felt like it was made of lead and screamed in pain with every move but he forced it to keep going. Why, he wondered briefly, had he been cursed like this? Why had he been given such an impressive power but a body that wasn’t built for it? Why was he born the eldest, charged with protecting his siblings, when he was barely any bigger than Natsuo? Why did they have to belong to a monster hiding under the mask of a Hero, who would lay his wife and children down as sacrificial lambs to the altar of his own greed and ambition?

He led Shoto out of the training room, forcing a smile on to his face when the smaller boy reached out timidly to take his hand.