#anyway back to serious business. i liked it...i think it was a bit weaker for me than the other seasons but maybe just because its been so

[yo9urt]

finished umbrella academy ... !

[phoenixcatch7]

Tips and tricks to survive Eden even less

Seeing a lot of people struggling with the fourth quest of Revival, aka the 'die and come back for one (1) heart pretty please' quest, and I thought some helpful hints and tricks I've found over the years might be helpful! (Feat: spoilers, obviously)

Step 1: Overcome your fear of death and accept your fate.

I'm serious! People are very cautious in Eden, and often to their detriment! Panic and rush will only make you clumsy and make the whole thing far more stressful than it needs to be! And take longer too!

Step 2: Carry a source of light, or bring a friend! Assembly guide sells a torch, I believe, but in an emergency the rememberance guide sells a teapot on a brazier that does the same... At a Very slow rate. If you bring a friend, you can carry friendship candles that work really well! Unfortunately they're also sort of fragile, so it's best when someone who is being carried holds it.

This will go a long way both to being useful and easing any stress! Just... Make sure not to place it anywhere in the way of krill or rocks.

Step 3: Don't rush after lost wings! If you're already losing light, you're not in a situation to be chasing the metaphorical ball into the busy road! Your first priority is yourself, get to safety and recharge. Lights that land nearby or in safe places sure, but don't jump into the path of rocks just to try and get one back!

I know it's counter instinctive, but you're going to be losing those lights anyway in a few minutes. Even if you have low numbers to begin with, you want to focus on keeping the ones you do have!

Step 4: Jumping vs skipping, also sliding. They're your best friends.

To jump, you press the jump button. Easy. To skip, you want to take your finger off the move circle so it fades, and then flick the screen in the direction you want to go, so your sky kid skips in that direction! The best part is, it has tracking abilities, which is invaluable in helping you land precise jumps (such as that freaking candle bridge in valley). Cool, but why is this important?

Skipping isn't affected by the winds like jumping. Well - it is a little, but it won't send you backwards the way a bad jump will. Not to mention the homing ability will make things easier! It's a bit weaker than a jump, but mix it in to make the journey easier!

Similarly, sliding can be achieved on almost any surface flat enough to walk on. It's not affected as much by the winds either, so try to slide where possible for some speed! Especially if you can move it into a skip, to get a good boost! (This is because you can slide without actively moving your sky kid.)

Step 5: Did you know? Emotes affect not only your hitbox, but also your knock back? If you're unfortunate enough to get caught by a short ledge, try using an emote to duck behind it! When you're in a standing emote (ie, one you have to stop manually and can't move until it's finished. Think the point emote vs the wave emote) you also become a lot harder to knock over! (Warning: this does not work on krill! They are bigger and beefier than you in every way!)

I recommend an emote that's fast to get in and out of, like the first stage faint emote! It's saved my hide many a time.

Also, most people run on Sunday, so if you're looking for a kindly guide, that's your best time!

Now. The route.

At the very start of Eden, there's a thin stone bridge with rushing rocks blowing left to right.

That bridge is optional.

For more experienced players with enough wedges, you can fly right across to the door with a little skill. (There's lots of video tutorials on youtube if you're curious!)

For people with less wedges or skills, hop right on down into the gap. Follow the bridge to where it meets the other side, and there's a slope you can climb back up to skip the rocks entirely!

The second area loads all at the same time. To be precise, in roughly the time it takes to open the door and trigger the cutscene with the krill, you'll usually hear the sound signalling a wave of falling rocks after the second horn note. You can still move in this cutscene! Also that krill can't see you, thank goodness, so don't worry about it.

For taller players (I'm serious lol) there's a big chip in the wall on the far left of the room. It's about in the middle, it's part of a seam, but if you can't find it get your candle out. Walk into the crack. Jump forward a couple times. Escape to oob. Make sure you got the door cutscene, though, because it will get you if you don't!

Climb the clouds as high as you can, following the path. You want to be ridiculously high up to avoid the invisible wall and the winds. You will get softlocked. Not 'I think I'm high enough', not 'I gotta be high enough now', you want 'I'm going to faceplant the sun' high. 'This feels like I shouldn't be here' kind of high. Right by the giant red pillar at the end! Then dive down. Straight down. Straight towards the entrance to the hall of lights. Avoid flying above the krill!! You should land without bother, but run to safety!

^^^ it looks cool, but don't land here! Land in the actual area down there, by the krill!

For shorter players or less experienced ones, run out and as far left as you can to make it to a safe spot to ride out the first wave of rocks! When the camera returns to you, I recommend keeping left and then running right to the tunnel: keeps you in the path of the rocks as little as possible. RUN.

You have a few seconds between the signal noise (which sounds like a match striking, or a carbonated bottle decompressing) and the surge of rocks (which sounds like strong winds and crunching). There's always particles flying, they're just decorative! It's safe to run when the rocks have stopped!

If you're close to safety, don't stop running!! Don't divert to somewhere that looks safer, get there as fast as you can. Because of the angle of the rocks, at the tunnel/pipe entrance, there's actually a little bit of area in front of it they don't hit. You're closer to safety than you think.

The next phase: pipes. Now, this area is either very easy or very hard, depending on if you get seen by a krill. There's two.

These guys work on a timer. They loop. You can hang around in the pipe between phases and watch them to get an eye on what they're doing, but they move pretty slowly lol. This is the phase you want to rush LEAST. If a krill is coming, hide under the girder. It has a zigzag pattern to help spot, and it's on the switchback leading up to the giant pipe. Don't try and rush it, there's very few places to hide quickly here.

However, the winds are very weak here! You can fly and run, if you're careful! Should a krill spot you on that ledge around the pipe, you can simply fly around it to the other side! Be aware, though, that you might fall into the sludge water below, so check you don't fall in! It's an annoying climb back up lol, but krill don't check down there unless they've been disrupted, so you're safe if you fall.

Do not jump over the girder bridge! Just run! I know it's faster but the girder is thin and slippy! If you get spotted there, just keep running, there's a rock you can hide behind on the other side.

Inside the pipe, you can take a break. There's a brazier of light and some crabs in a ditch you can take your anger out on. You'll see krill lights, but they can't get you as you climb out, they just pass very close. You can safely ignore that one!

Emerging, you'll see the giant red crystal. That's the goal. Again, keep left, use emotes and hiding spots. Listen for the signal sound. Do not be fooled by the placement of braziers! Some spots can still be hit with rocks if you're anything but a chibi!

There will be black, calcified bodies starting to appear. Do not worry. You can't interact with them. You can't save them. They will not protect you from rocks.

When you see a miraculously intact stone arch, you're close! Don't hide behind it, though! You want the ledge just under it. The arch won't keep you from rocks or the krill just ahead.

The krill moves in a very tight circle, for a krill. I'd recommend following its path from a distance, because it moved faster than we can, right now. Spots that will protect you from the krill won't save you from the rocks, either! This is a very tough spot to move through, so take your time choosing the right moment!

Also, there's a child of light, just to the left. This is a trap. Reach the safety of the corridor first, then once you've caught your breath drop back down and grab it. Grabbing the child on your way up risks slowing you enough for the krill to spot you.

And you're in the hall of lights! Lighting all the statues won't do anything, unfortunately. But this is also the first time you'll see children of light in any position other than standing looking up... It's a bit eerie. They're still the same thing, though.

At the end of the corridor, READ THE WARNING that pops up. This is your last chance to avoid death, if you're here to help a friend, or there's lights you want to get first, now is your last chance. Returning home after this point will take you to a scary, empty home, where thunder rumbles and the portals have been returned to rubble. The only way out is through eden.

The final phase: the eye of Eden.

There is no flying. Don't even bother. You'll need to conserve your light. Your goal is to light every calcified body you can - you can see them by the blue lines, if you're struggling. They also look unlit from the front, which can be very annoying, but if they're on fire or glowing, you've already got them. Eden can only be run once a week, and that's why. They don't reset until the Sunday/Monday daily reset, I'm pretty sure. You can still die and light ones you missed the first time, but it's usually not worth it. You'll need all your courage and recklessness here to move quickly.

There are no krill here. There is no clever skip. The only problems are the rocks and the sludge water (though that's not nearly as much of an issue lol. It's never more than ankle deep). Also the rocks to hide behind aren't very good. Sometimes you'll get hit despite being in a 'safe' spot. Don't linger.

Now, the rocks. You have more time than you think between waves, but as there's no noise to signal their stop, it can be hard to tell.

What you want to be listening for is the signal, of course, but also the sound of crashing. The signal is early. You have a few seconds. The crashing only starts when the rocks hit the floor.

What you want to be looking for is the bright neon red of rocks breaking on objects. It comes in waves, starting from the eye and washing to the entrance. These are the only rocks that will hit you, and if you see it coming, you can move out of the way! When they fade, start moving again immediately for the maximum safe time!

Watch for the blue or black of lights! They cost one light each, and each one will become roughly 1/3 of an ascended candle later. Get as many as you can!

Light every statue you go by and refill your light. If you're experienced, it might feel inefficient, but YOU WILL get hit at least once later and you don't want to crawl all the way back to the start to re light lmao.

The waves will come faster and harder as you get closer to the eye, and the angle the rocks fall from will also change, so watch out for that! If you get too close to the sides, they'll change direction SPECIFICALLY to spite you, so be aware of that too lol.

The very final stretch starts when the ground flattens into broken tiles. It's a straight line to the eye, and that's where we're going! Rocks fall all the time, there's little to no cover or light.

You just gotta run. You can't jump, don't try, it'll knock you down fast. You gotta take the hits. There's no two ways about it.

Well... There's kind of a way.

You see, the rocks fall in a pattern. Of you look up, you see them spawn in zigzag lines, and then fall at about 40° from horizontal. If you're very lucky, or very skilled, you can use that to predict where the rocks will fall. And avoid them.

Unfortunately, you can't move very fast. Especially once (not if!) you get knocked to a crawl. Sometimes you're just going to watch a rock spawn and then fall directly onto you lol. Don't try and zigzag to avoid, it'll just slow you down and you'll get hit.

Because of the rocks and the sludge water, any lights you lose will disappear the second they touch the ground. They are no longer your concern. Don't bother trying to focus on reaching the eye, just return the lights you do have to as many crystallised bodies as possible.

And then you die.

You gotta wait ages, at this point. For some reason. It can take about five minutes, longer if there's people there with you, but EVENTUALLY a pop up will appear asking if you want to move on without waiting for people. Click yes, or you'll be waiting even longer. Don't worry, your friends will come with you if they've also died.

Hug your own light, your bright reflection. It's always the exact same height as you. Fly up through the torrent.

There's one last shortcut, funnily enough. I'll include a picture.

See that pale window on the left of the giant doors? That I'm flying away from? That's intangible. You can fly straight through it to oob.

Go through. Go up.

Follow the clouds, just keep flapping up, as high as you can, even when you get lost. Aim for the space at the top.

And then you're headed for orbit, and there may be a giant slug whale sharing your personal space. Don't worry! It won't hurt you!

And that's Eden!

[diablo-that-first-spark]

Hell has frozen over: I am deviating from the lore

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my dearest cupcakes, you read that correctly. Hell is indeed an icy wasteland now and the Seven Evils need full winter gear to function. I am officially ignoring certain parts of the lore and deviating back to a previous version of them.

For those who don’t really know me, here’s why this is a big deal:

Lore is sacred.

Respect the goddamn source material.

These are the two golden rules I always follow, no matter the fanart or fanfiction I create (I’m talking about serious attempts here, not jokey sketches or memes, of course). I do not trample over established lore and rules in a world, just because I want to tell my story. I always do my best to make my story and characters work within the guidelines already set by the original creators. I don’t retcon backstories, I don’t blackwash, I especially don’t rainbow-wash, all of these are shameful practices in my eyes, and I would not be caught dead doing them.

Anyway.

With Diablo 4 out and its spin-off stories being published, I am finally forced to partially let go of the “Lore is sacred” golden rule… or at the very least, stay true to a former version of said lore. Namely, the Diablo 3 and the Sin War trilogy versions.

Now, it is obvious that Blizzard is doing its best to ignore D3 altogether in D4, outside of bringing back a few older locations like Maghda’s boss arena or the Forgotten Overlook. Returning D3 characters would rather die than mention anything from that game, while D2 characters (who should be dead 3 times over by this point) can’t shut the hell up about their former adventures.

It is also an undisputed fact that D3 is the least popular entry in the franchise among the hardcore non-fanart-creating part of the fandom. A sad fact, but a fact nonetheless.

Now, I am not saying Blizzard is a shit company, they don’t know what they are doing, I know better. No. Stories change. Things get retconned. Characters rewritten. Course-correction is necessary. That happens to almost every long-running story, it is entirely normal.

I just don’t like these changes, I think they take away from the lore overall. Attempts to erase my favorite entry from the franchise won’t make me happy, naturally, even if I wholeheartedly understand the purely logical and business reasons behind it.

So! Not to mince words, here is a list of every retcon I can think of from the top of my head, that I am going to apply to That First Spark:

1) Nephalem are weak no-name peasants who look perfectly human

Going by D3 and Sin War rules, in TFS nephalem are absolute powerhouses who survive insane shit being thrown at them, just because they are nephalem. Their power level is either off the charts or much higher than normal, both in magic and in physical strength. As a personal preference, I will also make the First Generation Nephalem (namely, Rathma) a little bit inhuman. I lllloved it when we still believed Elias would be Rathma, his design was perfect for the role. I will give Rathma a bit of a redesign for Act IV but his slight but disturbing inhuman appearance will remain so. No full-blown furry designs, that is just ridiculous, good lord.

(One day, I might write a rant about the current state of the Nephalem-era of history, because it is an absolute travesty. One day.)

2) Inarius is just a “lieutenant” of Tyrael

Yeah, nah, eff that. Rhythm brothers, till the day I die.

3) Rathma becomes the First Necromancer after he corrects a very plot-convenient mistake.

(Not going into more detail because the Rathma graphic novel is still very new.)

I’m going back to the original lore, which is far more interesting: Linarian had started a rebellion among his generation, after he realized their children were born weaker because of Inarius’ meddling. The rebellion goes horribly wrong, Inarius manages to kill most of the first generation nephalem with the aid of the Worldstone then he disappears and suffers a fate of isolation that eventually breaks his mind. On the other side, Linarian goes insane over the guilt of leading his fellow nephalem to their deaths, until the dragon Trag’Oul finds him and teaches him of the Balance, giving him the name “Rathma” (“Keeper of the Balance”).

None of this is made up by me, btw. This is how the lore was in the Sin War trilogy books.

4) Demons can be born/manufactured from the blood of angels

That is just the dumbest stuff Diablo Immortal has ever pulled, like hell I will work with that.

5) Lyndon didn’t kill Rea, instead he allows her to make his life hell

Hells, I already retconned it with the ending of Act I, without even trying. I saw into the future with this!

On a personal note: this is the most terrible story line they could have given to Lyndon, I hate everything about it, and I wish it to the deepest pits of hell. He deserves better. Grimdark is utter trash.

6) Lilith is an unkillable boss bitch that walks away from lethal crippling injuries like it’s nothing

Oh do not worry, she is going to be an absolute nightmare to take down. Quiet and co. will have to work for it hard. But originally Lilith has never been the “strahng wahmen unkillable boss bitch” modern day trope, and she won’t be that in TFS either. I have to be clever with what kind of injuries she may or may not receive.

7) Kingsport is on the south-western shore of the Western Continent

TFS works with the Diablo 3 version of the world map. If there is a location that is needed for the story, which shows up on the D4 map, but not the D3 map, I will bring that one detail in. There is nothing big behind this decision, I just grew used to the D3 map.

8) Lilith initiates the Purge of the Renegades because of Linarian's vision her son told her about

I am working with the Book of Cain version: Lilith assumes Inarius is already plotting the genocide of the children when he withdraws to meditate on the right choice. So she kills every angel and demon so that should Inarius want to destroy the children, he would remain utterly alone on a dead world. Her gambit would pay off in the end, although not before Inarius banishes her.

---

I am sure there will be a bit more retcons down the line, but for now, these are the critical nodes I see from here.

It probably doesn’t sound too bad for you, and I agree, I am probably making a mountain out of a mole-hill here. However, I have my own code to follow in creative works, and I honestly feel like this deviation from my usual methods warrants a heads-up.

So, anyway, back to the drawing board! I wish I had an ETA to give you cupcakes about the arrival of Act IV, but unfortunately I don’t. Thank you for your continuous patience!

2024.08.26.

[brainlessbaguette]

[TWST CHAPTER 7 SPOILERS!]

Please scroll if this isn't your cup of tea.

I'm mostly just brainstorming but there are spoilers!

Okay? They gone? Alrighty so we're asleep. I honestly figured Mal was gonna overblot super early because he's the only one that really can without us having to worry about him dying. Like everyone else was an "oh crap we gotta stop this now" moment, Malleus is more of a "eh we'll get to it in 3 to 4 business days" type of guy.

I am super interested in how the rest of this is gonna go tho. It's Idia's time to shine so I'm really hoping for those old school rpg vibes. Like are we gonna do a Majora's Mask/Kindergarten time loop where we fight malleus multiple times, he resets us, and we get new pieces to the puzzle on the next go round that brings us closer to beating him? Or are we going to go walking around waking our friends up like collectibles for one big showdown? Is Malleus even in the dream world? I can either see them doing the "he can't be here too, so this is a world where he never existed"(I will cry) or the "he's here and the games boss is keeping his eyes on you" side note tho it would be fun to see what Sebek is like without Malleus, who's his new hyperfixation?

And my now main headcanon, Malleus is really freaking strong, like REALLY strong. I personally don't think we all could beat him with force. In sleeping beauty Maleficent gets stabbed through the heart with a silver sword after Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather bless it. Now they could do the obvious boring route of having Silver fight and beat Malleus after Lilia shares what little power he has left with him or OR they could have silver do some serious emotional damage, absolutely break his heart. I think Malleus on some level genuinely believes his doing good, silver just broke down in front of him over this, now he can be with his dad forever! So tell him he's wrong, have silver chew him out about this, have Idia give him the "everybody dies and that's okay talk." They could also combine the two to severely weaken lilia, making malleus panic, have a much weaker boss battle, and then sad heart to heart. But honestly that follows the pattern of the other chapters and I kinda want to break from it a bit.

Anyway this was super rambly, I just have lots of thoughts and wanted to put them out there, I am way to invested in ch 7.

To anyone all the way down here I offer my ultimate ch 7 "headcanon"

In which Idia fights god to get the internet back.

[cravingbro]

Chocolate Ice Cream

siblings oneshot au: 1,8k words — harsh words, mention of mature content, bunch of physical attacks, contains some sweets (literally), and a mere hallucination.

There were days when he turned into a giant-goddamn-annoying baby, especially when our parents were out for late night work or him currently being single and desperate. Those days I had to sacrifice my mental stability for unwanted disturbance outside my room.

He could yell for every game he lost. Or he would intentionally made noises with his steps along the corridor of our room, trying to steal my focus.

I knew that for sure, yet he always succeed. Every. Single. Time.

In a blink of an eye, I'd step out and shouted at him while he ran away and chuckled. If my mood already ruined during the day, I'd catch him in the living room and punched his back as if it was me againsts a thief. Well ... he is a thief. He stole my mindfullness.

One thing I noticed is that he never fight back. Not at once. As if he let me crushed him with my wild fists and fingers. Usually when my attacks are getting weaker, he either squeeze my tiny body in his arms or he would run away. Again.

That day he chose to run, reaching for refrigerator and took two paper cups from the freezer. When I finally catched his step, he handed me a chocolate ice cream, my favorite flavor he knows very well. As I tried to reach the cup, he decided to not giving it to me as it is. Then he opened the lid and put the spoon inside so that I could just eat it right away.

My God, it taste as awesome as I remember it would be. It was so good that I wheezed. He chuckled as he rub his fingers through my hair.

"What is it this time?" I asked while he shook his head and said, "Nothing."

"Nothing is free in this world, Dude. So, what is this ice cream do today? A special request to shut me up? Or another session of asking for second opinion?" I added. He still shook his head and smiled.

"Another session? Hahaha, no. You were busy anyway. Just finish your task. I just wanted you to have a little break from whatever shit you're currently working on," he said. I sighed as he was not being infuriating like he always does.

"You're joking, right?"

"Do I look funny right now?"

"Oh ... yes, you do! I've lived with you my whole life to know how silly you are. I have no idea how could someone like you be a school-star everybody adores, like ... no shit, they have no idea who you truly are—"

"I have a girlfriend," he cut my word with sharp look. He gulped before he avoid eye contact.

"Yeah, so? None of my business, you know— wait ... did you ... do something nasty with that girl?" Judging by how serious he looked at that time, I could not help but think of something bad. Yet he did not answered my question and I tried to make him look at me in the eye. But he refused to do so.

"Jaehyun!"

"I was drunk! I didn't know what I was doing!" he shouted back. My jaw dropped, thinking of what kind of disaster he just told me about.

"You're so screwed, Bro!"

"Help me!"

"Hell no!"

"But I gave you an ice cream!"

"An ice cream? In exchange for what? A possibility of you ... ruining our family in instant? Now tell me, did you made her pregnant?" I asked, holding his shoulders with both of my hands.

His face suddenly went red and he bit his lips. He neither confirm nor deny my curiousity which made me lowkey furious.

"Hey!"

"I don't know! But we had great time, I suppose. She said it was good—"

"Yacks! Why are you telling me this?!" I punched his chest and he whined. But then he laughed out loud. He probably dive in too deep that he started to shed tears.

"What's so funny about it?" I asked, with rage shown on my face. He scooped a spoon of his ice cream and tried to feed me. He opened his mouth as a sign for me to open mine, and I really did. I looked like I was his robot obeying his order. Not long after, that spoon of chocolate ice cream instantly melt inside my mouth.

"It's funny because I lied," he stated after a long silence.

All of sudden, I have no energy left to throw another tantrum. I was just starring sharp as his face turned goofy.

"You're a good sister, you know that? I bet nobody would spare her time in between her deadlines just to listen my outstanding story like you did—"

"You just wasted my time! Holyshit!" I finally cursed as I stood up. He let me walk away and I could feel him starring at me with a wide smile as he succeed his prank. So I turned and raised my middle finger on him.

"I love you too," he said. I cringed so hard as he blew a kiss with both of his hands. Who the fuck he think he is? A superstar whose action melt everyone heart? Maybe. But not to me, at least.

When I walked pass the corridor, I could hear him jumping on the sofa. I guess he celebrated that moment, literally. I stood before the door and placed my forehead on the wall, then sighed.

I sat back on the chair, trying to get my mind back on the task. But his chuckling voice from the living room bothered me so much that I reached my pillow and walked towards him.

"You, son of a bitch!" I shouted as I attacked him with the pillow. He used his hands to cover himself from me and that was all he did. No counter attack. No fight back. Just joyful laugh.

"You said you know me well before, but you still got pranked," he said followed with a loud cheerful laugh right after.

"I said I know ... how silly you are ... I didn't expect ... you'd joke about ... doing ... that ... with your ... girlfriend," I replied while I was out of breath. I kept hitting my brother with the pillow and he kept laughing as he laid himself on the sofa.

I locked his waist with my legs so he could not move even a single inch away from me. Yet I still did not hear a single protest from him. As expected, he still enjoys being brutally attacked by his sister.

"But deep down, you know I will do that one day," he spoke with his soft tone, contrast with the current sitation of our warzone. That voice made me stop attacking him immediately.

"Of course! You're a grown up ass man," I replied. He took that opportunity to free himself and sat down right in front of me.

"And what do you feel if that day come?" he asked followed with a warm smile painted on his face.

"Huh?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, the day I finally live with somebody else and build my own family away from mom, dad, and you," he added.

"I guess I have no choice. I'm not sure with how I feel, honestly. Well, how about you? What if that day come to me?" I asked him back.

"I— uh ... probably will keep an eye on the guy you marry just in case he did something shitty. Then I'll come right away if I notice a single scratch on you, physically or mentally Then I'll throw that guy away from you. I swear to God that's what I'll do." He raised his fist up as if he was demonstrating a protest.

"Ha!" I covered my mouth right before I chuckled.

"Let me tell you something," he said, opening a new topic for our conversation.

"Don't you dare prank me this time!" I threatened him. He immediately shook his head and said, "No no no, this one is real."

He gave a sign with his hand to make me come closer to him. As usual, I obeyed his request. Then he placed his mouth close to my ear and whispered, "I was the one who ask for a younger sibling because I saw two kids on the playground fighting over who was going to held their dog's chain."

As soon as I heard that, I reached his wrist and took a quick glance before he continue his story.

"But I specifically ask for a brother. Yet I got a sister," he added. We both chuckled.

"Were you disappointed when I was born?"

"Not going to lie, I had a huge disappointment the moment it was revealed that you will be a girl. That was before you were born, I even told our mom to exchange the baby or do anything just so I could get a brother," his whisper tone got excited. I bursted in laugh.

"But then one day, our mom got sick and has to go to hospital at night. Our dad took her and left us at home, just like this. You were four and I was seven. I was so stressed, not knowing what to do with you, and us literally just stuck together like that," he added.

"I was preparing myself to say no to whatever you want because you use to ask this and that, then cry when you didn't get what you want." I chuckled remembering how bad I behave when I was younger.

"But then you just came to me, in my room, and with a soft-spoken voice, you ask if I want to eat ice cream with you," he said then took a deep breath before he continued, "I told you we have no ice cream and you said that we should ride a bike to the nearest minimarket to buy some—"

"And we did," I cut him immediately since I remember which story he tried to tell.

"Yes ... we did," he echoed my words and smile widely as I looked at him.

"That's the moment when I finally realized ... having a sister is not so bad. I'm way more relaxed at that day and I guess that was the first time you behave nicely," he said while putting his index on my nose. I could not help but to smile. His words comforted me in a way I never expected.

The task I tried to finish before actually made me questioned myself. I guess I was too tired to live my day because of how stressful it was to be at school everyday and stuck with numerous task from various subjects.

"I heard you sob this afternoon, by the way," he suddenly confessed, made me raised both of my eyebrows in instant.

"You did?"

"Yeah, and it breaks my heart to hear—"

"I thought you were busy playing games," I cut him again. His sentimental side was showing and I almost cringed had I not stop him talking midway.

"I did. But I walked passed your room couple times and even peek inside—"

"But I hear nothing?!" I raised my voice as I speak. He shook his head slowly and added, "I also called your name, but you didn't answer. That's when I went out to buy the ice cream."

"Gosh ...." I took a deep breath before I finally smiled.

"You know ... I'm not a smart brother you can rely on when you're stuck with your tasks. So the only thing I can do to help is to give you a quick ice cream break," he said as he lifted his jaw haughtily.

"And pranked me, for God's sake," I added. We both laughed so hard right after.

"That's for a signature touch," he replied. I raised my eyebrow once again and he continued, "I won't let you forget my existence ever. So I'll plant as many silly memories as I can—"

"Oh, fuck that shit." I reached my pillow and threw it towards my brother and left him immediately.

Eventually, I was able to finish my deadlines at midnight. Although the idea of what my silly brother did haunted me the whole time.

[solomonish]

Way To Go MC, You’ve Allowed Yourself to be Poisoned (Demon Brothers)

CW for: descriptions of food and eating, brief descriptions of choking-like symptoms. (mainly in the intro, though the individual stories mention coughing, (light) blood and fainting). there will be talk of food and keeping an eye on what is being eaten in the individual character stories as well.

Ahh thank you nonnie! I got tired and stopped at the demon brothers but I’ll finish the nowdateables later if you want! Which let’s be real, I’ll probably do soon because I wanna write for Solomon lol

I hope you like it!

---

It started off like any other night, with you grabbing a seat at the dinner table as the last of the food was placed in the middle. Someone beside you took your plate and gave you your portion for you, smiling at your murmur of thanks as they set it down. You waited until the last person, Levi, sat down, smiling at him as he muttered something about finishing a level to nobody in particular. 

The moment you ate your first bite of food, something felt...off. Your tongue was tingling the slightest bit and you swore you could feel an uncomfortable heat follow the food as it slid down your throat. Thinking it was just a weird Devildom spice - after all, you’ve been here for how long? and nothing has happened yet? - you take another bite and immediately regret it.

Though such a food was no big deal for demons, it was powerful enough to knock you out of your chair and hunch over, grabbing your stomach as you cough forcefully in a desperate attempt to get the food out. Your insides were burning, your airways closing in and your chest crying out in pain the more you coughed. Soon enough, tears clouded your vision, and though you could hear the chaos around you, the only thing you could focus on was what felt like fire burning you from the inside out.

When you start coughing:

The moment you let out a little cough, his eyes are on you curiously. It’s just a remnant of the days when you were still so new to it all: the fragile little human makes a strange noise, be prepared to save a life.

He almost let his eyes fall from you, but he noticed that you weren’t stopping. It wasn’t the first time you had caused a scene at dinner, saying something afterwards about it “going down the wrong tube.” Still, this seemed...different.

When you fall off of your chair, he’s out of his before you even hit the ground. He’s kneeling by your side a second later, trying to tilt your head towards him so he can fully understand what is happening.

He finally realizes that you aren’t just choking and this is much more urgent when the blood starts coming out of your mouth.

He takes his attention away from you for a moment to ask who cooked dinner, and the brothers promptly rat out Mammon.

Though Lucifer is clearly agitated at that, he decides to lecture later and instead ask what Mammon put in the dish. Everyone erupts at once about halfway through because “How could you have forgotten what that will do to a human??”

That’s the last thing you remember for yourself - whether from the poison itself or being unable to breath through all your coughing, you passed out fairly quickly afterwards

Taking care of you afterwards:

Lucifer isn’t the type to panic in the moment. He’s very accustomed to taking the lead and having everything under control.

That’s in the moment, though. When he has Satan mix up the remedial potion, he’s fine, checking over you and keeping his brothers a safe distance away while he makes sure you’re still breathing. Once you’re safely in bed, brothers having been banned from your room until at least morning, and he’s the only one left lingering in the doorway, that’s when it all begins to set in.

There’s less regret and more general uncertainty in these moments - it starts with him wondering if he should really leave you alone, and soon enough it spirals into him reminding himself just how careful he needs to be with you in the Devildom. (And really, after taking charge of seven demon lords on accident, isn’t it just like you to get killed by a spicy leaf? Honestly, he should’ve known better.)

Once you finally do wake up, he tries to act like his normal “down to business” self - “I’ve told my brothers they are not to overwhelm you today, though we both know how that will go. I’ve made Leviathan figure out what bland foods are safe for humans, you’ll have to take it easy for now as your stomach is still irritated. Let me know immediately if you feel woozy or nauseous for any reason-” He prattles on and on, and though you’ve stopped paying attention you can still feel the softness in his tone

He tries to be gentle with you, and you have to remind him that you were just poisoned, not bedridden for months. Sometimes he’ll shoot you a glare and try to justify himself by saying it’s just like you to make another foolish mistake, but others he just won’t say anything and will keep the hand he has placed on your lower back “for safety”

Firmly believes in establishing as many preventative measures to keep this from happening again, so the next few weeks are going to be....a lot.

Sets up an alarm so he can remind you every lunch not to pick any of the “not safe for humans” options. Probably also gets you a seat in a class that goes over poisonous plants in the Devildom. 

Do not try to skip this. It’s easier for everyone if you just let him ease his mind how he likes.

When you start coughing:

At first, Mammon assumes that you just heard the joke he made and (naturally) started laughing so hard your weird little human body couldn’t take it

So essentially, you start choking and he starts laughing at you thinking you’re laughing together

That all stops the moment you fall out of your chair and double over, suddenly dry heaving on the floor.

He sort of short-circuits for a second, not entirely sure what to do until one of the more knowledgeable brothers stoops down beside you

They tell him to just keep your airways clear and make sure you’re still breathing while they go to get the elixir they need, and he does. It’s one of the few times they see him so serious - he just doesn’t want to mess up, so he doesn’t focus on any of their comments or bite back

(”Gee, Mammon’s actually stepping up for once” “Yeah, too bad he was the one that poisoned them in the first place”) 

(Lucifer: he WHAT)

Taking care of you afterwards:

Mammon is usually the first thing you see in the morning, so that doesn’t come as a surprise. What does surprise you is how quiet he’s being. 

When you sit up and groggily ask, “Is something wrong?” (barely getting the words through your swollen lips) he is torn between trying to say something smooth (”N-not now that you’re okay!! not that i care....”) or calling you a dumb human. So instead he just stares at you

Eventually you can get it out of him what happened, and it explains why your face feels like it had been burned and your stomach feels gross

Mammon says he’s going to come up with a surefire way to protect you so nothing like this ever happens again, but his version of protecting you is sticking by your side 24/7 and he already does that so?

You’re the one that’s going to have to take the lead. Make a list of common ingredients that are SUPER deadly to humans and make sure you both have one for reference

Soon enough, though, he figures out how he can help you without your guidance and you catch him pointing out what’s safe without you having to ask

He follows you to the lunch line and examines the clear plastic boxes until he can point out a few human-safe options. He’ll bend to whisper in your ear in line at some fast-food joint. If you’re not sure, he’ll be the first to ask before you even remember that’s something you should be doing anyway.

He’ll even try to make dishes he thinks you’ll like without the poisonous ingredient! Sometimes it takes a few tries but if he wants you to try something with him, he WILL make it himself

When it comes to you, Mammon really will give you the best care he can. Sometimes he just needs that extra push to think things through.

(And if this wasn’t a push. a hard shove. over a cliff. into shark infested waters)

(don’t do this again, mc. his demon heart can’t take it)

When you start coughing:

Levi has never mentioned how his brother don’t normally speak much to him at dinner and he’s just learned to be highly attuned to you. He notices a lot of little things you do, and is normally the first to realize when you’re choking or something.

That’s why, when you start coughing this time, he is the first one to panic. He knows that that isn’t a normal cough, he just doesn’t know what to do about it.

He looks down at his plate and realizes what’s on it, something he cries out right when you fall to the ground, clutching your stomach. You’re on the other side of the table and his brothers are already crowding around you, so Levi doesn’t get to see the blood and can only hear your coughing.

When your coughing gets weaker as you faint, he freaks. the. fuck. out. Did you die?? Even as he tries to look over his brother’s shoulders, he can’t get a good grasp of what happened until somebody tells him.

(It doesn’t matter much though. He’s still stuck in a loop of wondering what he could’ve done if he had gotten to dinner sooner, if he had managed to score a coveted seat next to you, if he had just looked at his plate or offered to take over for Mammon...)

Taking care of you afterwards:

You wake up in your bed and Lucifer is the one who comes in, asking you how you feel and if you’re up to classes to die. 

Being poisoned sure does take a lot out of you, so you ask to stay. Lucifer gives a quick nod and warns you not to shirk your duties, wishing you a fast recovery and letting you know that (human safe) food has been set aside specifically for you.

You doze off soon after (hey, a sick day may as well be spent sleeping in, right?) and when you wake up, somebody else is there, looking at you with inquisitive orange eyes and nearly scaring you half to death.

When you scream, he screams, backing up into your dresser and knocking some of the things off of it. 

“I-I’m sorry-! I was just- told to check up on you- just in c-case....I’ll leave now!”

Boy’s gonna make you chase after him when you’re basically sick smh

If you go to his room and demand to be let in, he will - and he’ll let you stay under the guise of “well if you have to check on me every hour it’ll be less of a hassle if I just stay here...”

You won’t be able to get him to say he feels guilty for letting this happen, but when you pick up on the signs ensure him that he’s doing fine taking care of you. HIs cool room helps soothe your mouth (which is still a little irritated), and you’re honored he has an alarm set to check up on you

You know he’s feeling better about it all when an alarm goes off and he just asks “Hey you good?” and he chuckles a little bit when you respond “Hold on I gotta check my own pulse....... yeah i think i’m good”

Overall he is worried but he doesn’t know how to communicate it? So it’s a lot of quick, worried glances and double checking nutrition facts on packages before he hands them to you.

He kind of leaves you to your own devices, but he does send you worried glances every now and then until you’re recovered. He also makes it a point, when Mammon’s on dinner duty, to tell him exactly how he prepared the meal, though you don’t know if it’s for your sake or just to bother him. Probably both.

When you start coughing:

Satan has taken to leaving his books in his room for most dinner and talks to you in their place, so he notices what’s in the dish pretty quickly.

However, the second step of realizing what it could do to a human doesn’t quite hit him until you’re already on your second bite.

He reaches out to grab your wrist anyway, watching you cough while also staring at him in confusion. As he watches your face redden and your mouth swell, you take your wrist from his grasp and cover your mouth with your hand.

He’s the one who knows what to do, so he appoints someone to keep and eye on you while he runs (yes, runs, but he’ll act all cool about it if his brothers bring it up later) to his room to get some potion that’ll (hopefully) negate the effects

(Don’t let him hear me say this but) he’s similar to Lucifer in that he’s very level-headed when it happens - somebody needs to be focused on the cure when some of his more dramatic brothers are screaming (looking at you, Mammon and Asmo)

Taking care of you afterwards:

Satan might be the best at taking care of you, but he’s probably also the least fun.

Once he realized a while ago how fragile a human could be (and that he was interested in actually keeping you alive rather than just watching how long it takes for something to hurt you), he put in an effort to read up on how to help a poisoned human in the Devildom.

He knows how you must be feeling, and he offers you soothing teas or even a (human safe!) numbing lip balm to help you out.

(He finds great pleasure in how ridiculous you look, now that the danger’s passed - though he won’t tell you outright, you can tell it by the amused grin he isn’t even trying to hide)

Don’t be surprised if you catch him eyeing your plates of food for a while after the incident, and any time you catch him in the act he’ll look at you, take a drink out of the nearest cup and lift his eyebrows in a weird little acknowledgment that he’s been caught before saying “It looks tasty.”

Overall, he’s the standard amount of worried? Even though he will take every opportunity to tease you about how you looked afterwards or how feeble you are to be taken down by something so small (jokingly), he won’t ever get out of the habit of double checking your food to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

When you start coughing:

Asmodeus eyes you warily when you start coughing, but continues with his entertaining until you hit the ground.

He’s by your side in an instant, hands hovering over you as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself (he doesn’t).

He doesn’t remember calling for Satan, but Satan is the one who kneels by you, so maybe he does? His focus is on you and deciding on something he can do to help.

This ends up shielding your face, puffy and a mess from your tears and retching, from the others who are all peering over at you in concern. He knows it’s not the most pressing detail, but he figures that maybe he can preserve your dignity a little bit, no?

He follows the action with his hands covering his mouth nervously, watching as they have to force a potion down your throat now that you’re unconscious. He’s allowed to stay by you once they determine that you’re safe since he normally doesn’t cause too much of a fuss - not when he looks as pale and miserable as he does now, anyway.

Taking care of you afterwards:

He’s not too experienced in the healthcare field, but boy does he know self care! He knows how to get your skin feeling less gross after the rather...irritable reaction it had and the best way to rest is if you feel totally physically relaxed, right?

For a while, if your stomach still feels like it’s churning or you’re otherwise unfocused, he’s the first to defend you from anybody who thinks you’re overreacting. 

Also makes sure nobody outside of the house knows how...unsightly of an ordeal it was. He isn’t shaming you internally or anything, but he’d loathe to have such an unpretty picture in people’s heads when you’ve been nothing but showstopping the whole time beforehand!

Will make sure to grab a seat across from you juuust before you take a bite for a while. It doesn’t matter if he’s across the room in the middle of a story or if you’re at a cafe with someone else and he’s still home. You’ll find him sliding in wordlessly to the seat across from you and watching you intently, making sure you’re eating something that isn’t going to burn you from the inside out.

Has multiple websites bookmarked on his D.D.D. that tell him what is poisonous to you and makes sure YOU are aware of what you’re putting inside your body before you eat it. He seems to genuinely think you’ll forget to save yourself from such a life-threatening situation, but the pout he gives you when you try to get him to stop is enough to convince you to live with it.

When you start coughing:

When you start coughing, he reaches over and starts patting your back absently in the way that usually helps.

He notices the way you grasp onto the table in an attempt to keep yourself up, coughing into your other hand as it gets worse by the second. When you almost slip off, he reaches out to catch you before you hit to floor

Is ready to do the Heimlich when one of his brothers stops him because 1) he’d probably snap you in half, and 2) that’s not what’s happening

He watches blankly as Satan approaches him, laying you down gently as instructed. That’s probably worse, watching you writhe on the floor like that.

He’s the one instructed to help hold you down so they can feed you the potion cure. He wants to hold your hand but it’s covered in blood, and he doesn’t want to risk loosening his grip on you and you somehow spilling it.

Taking care of you afterwards:

He’s the one most shaken up about the whole ordeal, I’d think? While the others are definitely worried he’s the one that has the BIGGEST problem with the feeling of helplessness so I think it would bring back some memories

He definitely keeps a watchful eye over you until you can tell him coherently that you’re okay, and even then he’s still treating you like porcelain for a short while

He can’t help it! Any time he’s reminded of just how frail you can be (and how unexpectedly something horrible can happen) he just...needs a few gentle moments to collect his thoughts.

Does NOT want you even looking at anything that has that plant in it (or anything else poisonous for that matter). Will straight up eat an entire dish from the pan if you give it a glance that he thinks means you’re thinking about eating it. He can usually get away with it since that’s similar to what he already does, but every now and then you see the look in his eyes and wonder if there’s something more to it

He’ll warn you in the future if he knows something is poisonous, but if you’re trying something new he’ll automatically ask you “Can you eat that?” If he doesn’t know, he can at least remind you to check for yourself.

When you start coughing:

Very few things can snap Belphegor out of a drowsy dinner stupor. You suddenly falling on the floor and coughing your insides out is one of the things that can.

If his brothers weren’t so concerned with you, they’d have a few quips about how quickly he startled awake

The first thing he does is dart his eyes back to the table, where he quickly realizes that they just inadvertently poisoned you. When he turns back, it seems the others have already come to that conclusion and someone is running off to help you

He knows that he doesn’t have much to offer in terms of help, but he will tear somebody (Mammon) away from you and kneel next to Beel.

He keeps himself under control by comforting Beel as he holds you down. 

There’s definitely a sick feeling in his stomach, something familiar about you lying on the floor and bleeding that he doesn’t like. He pretends to be averting his eyes at the sight of them forcing a potion down your throat and not some regrettable memory.

Taking care of you afterwards:

You wake up and Belphie is curled up next to you in your bed. Nobody else is in the house and it’s 3 PM. You feel gross and you can’t reach your phone to actually confirm what time it is and you have no idea what the fuck is going on until he wakes up

Which he does, after you poke and prod him enough and he’s very grumpy about it

“yeesh, you get poisoned and suddenly you think you’re the princess of the devildom”

“I get WHAT”

Definitely is planning to get Mammon back tenfold

He tries to act nonchalant about it but he does keep waking up ever few hours and lifts his head to like. check that you’re good for the first day or so. 

Sometimes he gets this sad look in his eyes and you have to smooth his hair back and reassure him that everything’s okay. It works a little but if he thinks he can trick you by pretending to sleep and then steal a few moments where he can Brood on his own while STILL cuddled up next to you, he will.

Suddenly takes an interest in what you’re eating. Every day. Every meal. 

He doesn’t go to check on you but he does text you a few minutes before lunch or if you’re getting dinner somewhere other than the house “What are you planning on eating?”

Gets real huffy if you don’t give him a straight answer. Usually will respond with a “Whatever don’t get yourself almost killed again”

If you decide to get cheeky and answer “Probably straight poison, like right out of the mysterious bottle with a skull on it” he will just say “ugh, sounds like you. have fun.”

“...”

“...”

“...seriously, don’t do that mc.”

he sets alarms to wake up so he can make sure you don’t ingest literal poison be a little nice to him please

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

More drugged villain please?

Okay so I did not know if this was an ask for a new piece, or a continuation of Paying For It. Because I already am planning on Paying For It Part 2, this is going to be a new piece, so ladies and gents I present to you *drumroll*...

Villain Pursuit

@shydragonrider

Warnings: drugged whumpee, tranq dart, needles, fever, tired characters, chasing of whumpee, bullet wound, guns, infection, descriptions of injuries, knocked out by blunt force, kidnapping

*not edited, sorry*

~

"He is getting much weaker," Hero reported as she stood in front of her boss, Superhero. "His right leg is very swollen and he can hardly walk, much less run. I believe it is infected and-" a yawn "- and he can hardly walk in a straight line anymore."

"Then, why didn't you grab him if he is this easy?" Superhero asked, ignoring his employee's obvious signs of exhaustion- it has been a long, rough two weeks of chasing a villain across multiple states. One of the other heroes managed to shoot his leg in hopes of incapacitating him, but the slippery villain somehow walked it off. Or, he did and now the wound was badly infected.

"He disappeared into a crowd," Hero replied. "I think it's time to chase him down and sedate him or something. If he continues like this, he is going to die."

Superhero nodded curtly in agreement. "Okay," he sighed. "We go out there and we do not rest until Villain is safetly behind bars."

Hero narrowed her eyes at the bluntness in Superhero's voice, but decided that her boss was just tired. She also reckoned that was the reason he didn't mention the infirmary as Villain's first destination after capture.

He was just tired, right?

《~~》

"Okay," Hero said, adjusting the tranq gun on her belt. "There he is."

Villain was laying against the steps to a door in an alleyway. His head was thrown backwards against his shoulder, eyes cracked open in semi-consciousness. His injured leg was stretched out whereas the other was curled up in an attempt to use some leverage to support himself. One arm was propped to keep himself upright, the other strewn to the side.

"He looks horrible," Teammate commented, chewing nervously on his lip. "I doubt its going to take much to put him out."

"Yeah, me neither," Hero agreed, feeling a rising nausea in her stomach. The pair crept towards the injured villain. Hero glanced over to see more heroes also advancing to corner the man.

But, at the last moment before Hero was able to shoot the dart, Villain saw them. He scrambled up his feet, leaning heavily against the door and swaying wildy. He looked over all the heroes, before turning and running off.

Hero cursed under her breath and sped after the hobbling villain. For a moment, she felt absolutely sorry for him. He could hardly stay on his feet, his right leg not even stepping that much on the ground. She could hear his pained groans from where she was.

Hero stopped running and drew out her tranq gun. Whispering an apology, she let the dart fly.

The feathered dart hit Villain directly in the side of his neck. He stumbled a bit, the drug already taking effect. He made an awkward circle- more of an oval- before collapsing backwards on the ground, his arms limply trying to break his fall, but they failed. His head crashed into the ground, leaving him laying in a motionless heap.

Hero grimaced. She never saw someone go down that quickly from the tranq gun before.

She walked up to the villain, crouching down and staring at him. An odd mixture of defeat and relief expressed itself on his unconscious face. Hero sighed, running a hand through her hair, before taking a look at his swollen leg.

The bullet that previously imbedded itself in his leg was gone, leaving a very infected gash. His whole calf was twice the size it would normally be- due to the infection and the fact that he seemed to have a badly sprained ankle.

"Finally!" Teammate exclaimed, sitting down exhausted next to Hero. "I was getting to the point of just shooting him and being done-"

"Look at this," Hero gestured towards his leg. She pressed into the flesh, it wasn't like he could feel it. It was burning hot.

"Yeah, looks nasty. I'm gonna call Superhero and then let's get him to the infirmary," Teammate said and went to call their boss.

Hero positioned herself by Villain's head and placed it in his lap. For some reason, even though he was incapable of realizing her presence, she felt a call to comfort him.

"It'll be okay buddy," Hero whispered, brushing the unwashed hair out of Villain's face. "Just hang on for me, will you?"

Superhero came within a few minutes, oddly without the aid of doctors and nurses. Hero watched with a perplexed look on her face while Teammate shrugged, also very confused.

Superhero smirked down at the unconscious man, nonchalantly using his foot and shoving his shoulder over. Villain rolled deeper into Hero's lap, his muscles devoid of any resistance.

"Well good job my heroes," Superhero said in an annoyingly chirpy voice. "Help me get him into my car, and I'll take him to the, uh, infirmary."

Hero nodded curtly, but really she found this odd. Why was Superhero taking Villain? What if Villain woke up? Maybe he meant for Teammate and Hero to join him in the ride and just harmlessly forgot to mention it?

Teammate and Hero loaded Villain into the back of the car and buckled his limp body up. They had him in a sitting position with his leg dangling over his chest, arms lazily lying at his sides.

"Thank you so much, guys. Really, great job," Superhero applauded in an interestingly quick voice. Hero smiled back and prepared to ride shotgun.

"Wait! No, no, no," Superhero chuckled nervously. "Honey, why don't you and Teammate go home and get some sleep. You two have been working incredibly hard."

Hero detected the tension in her boss's voice, but chose to ignore it. Truthfully, she was too tired to argue and the thought of collapsing on her bed and sleeping was too tempting. She stepped back and Superhero got into his car and drove away.

《~~》

"It's been a week Hero," Teammate spoke over in between sips of his morning coffee. "A week and no signs of Superhero, we can't visit Villain, and the agnecy is a mess."

"Yeah, kind of odd," Hero agreed, looking out the window and across the busy street. She took a lip of her own coffee and glanced bavk over at her partner. "Maybe we should call him."

"Yeah." Teammate nodded, then a mischievous grin dawned on his face. "You do it," he challenged.

But Hero was not in the mood for games. She flipped out her phone and dialed her boss's number.

"Hey Hero, how are-" cough "-you." The superhero on the otherside of the line sniffled.

"Are you sick boss?" Hero asked, brow furrowing in concern.

"Yeah, just the flu. Nothing serious, just miserable."

Was it Hero's ears playing tricks on her, or did Superhero's voice seem suddenly much less congested?

"Oh well I'm sorry. Rest up and we'll see you next week."

"Is everything okay Hero?"

"Yep all good."

It was not all good. Hero hung up and looked over at Teammate. A wordless conversation passes between them and they both hustled to their feet and practically ran out the door.

Superhero lived on the outskirts of the city in a vintage farmhouse. Hero's sport car felt very out of place in the picturesque view of the red barn and old tractor.

Teammate knocked on the screen door and stepped back. Hero tried not to notice, but he had a gun with him.

"Coming! I'm coming!" Superhero's clearly not sick voice rang out. Hero heard the poudning of footsteps before Superhero, dreased in a sweatpants and a tank top, opened the door.

His face paled at the sight of his employees.

"Oh, hey ack. What brings you here? I said I was totally good," Superhero chuckled, tapping his fingers against the doorframe.

"Cut the bull Superhero." Teammate drew his gun. "Where is Villain?"

Hero was shocked. She didn't really piece two and two together, but it seemed like Teammate did.

Superhero had Villain.

"No where. What makes you think-"

Teammate brought the barrel of the gun to Superhero's temple, knocking him out. He immediately rushed over and stuck his boss with a needle.

"What?" Hero asked, astonished.

"I'm always prepared. Never trusted that guy anyways," Teammate replied, turning his nose up slightly at Superhero's sleeping form in amusement, before rushing into the house. Hero followed.

They found Villain unconscious on the floor of the basement. His arm was strewn over his face, bruised and bloodied.

Hero ran over and took one look at the villain an immediately knew that he was in reallt bad shape. The original infection seemed to be drained, but it was still quite pussy. Also, the swelling did not yet go down.

Teammate grabbed Villain's arm and turned it over to reveal tiny holes. Hero swallowed. He has been drugged, she realized with a shudder.

Teammate, without another word, scooped Villain into his arm and carried him back up the stairs. Hero followed, stunned into silence.

When they came across Superhero's peacefully sleeping form, Hero brought her heel down onto his nose. With a satisfying crunch, it broke.

"Serves you right," Hero whispered, voice dripping with malice.

Teammate had Villain lying in the backseat of the small car, his bad leg resting against his jacket as a pillow. Hero scooted in next to him, laying his head on her lap. "Okay, let's go," she said and Teammate droved to her house.

The first thing the two did was get the disgusting, soiled articles of clothing off Villain's partially starved body. He immediately started to shiver, convulsions overtaking his body.

"Okay, he need to be warmed up," Hero said. "Bath?"

"No, wrap him in warm blankets and then sit with him on the couch. I need to tend to this leg ASAP," Teammate said, voice completely focused and monotoned.

Hero did as she was told, swaddling Villain in a fluffy beige blanket. She laid his upper body across her lap as Teammate went to work on properly draining the abscess. Villain didn't stir and Hero got worried. She checked his pulse finding it too fast and erratic to be normal.

"Okay done." Teammate cleaned his hands off on a paper towel and doused the wound with antiseptic. When that was done, he wrapped the gash in thick bandages.

Hero clutched Villain, dragging him closer to her. Waking up slightly, he nuzzled his face into her arm. Then, he stilled again, asleep.

"What are we going to do about him?" Hero whispered. "Superhero won't let us get away..."

"I know." Teammate rubbed his eyes. "That's why I am going to pack and we are running away."

[bucky-barmes]

I told you you'd laugh at me

꧁❣︎꧂

In which reader tries to pat the local stray and Steve bandages her back up, only laughing a little

[a/n: a bit of a shorter one, kinda a drabble i guess?? idk i like it and it’s definitely something i would do oops]

[includes: blood (only a little), cat scratches, non-descriptive!reader (no gender/appearance), minor bad words (bitch, shit, crap, arse), no sexual themes, -18 friendly]

word count: 954 words

(gif from bonniebirddoesgifs)

꧁❣︎꧂

The elevator doors to the tower slid open and you skulked in, clenching your forearm with your right hand. There was no visible blood through your fingers, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch. As the elevator announced the main living level of the tower, you straightened your back, reluctantly letting go of your arm. All in hopes that no one would notice.

As long as no one stopped you on your way to your room, you’d be fine. Just gotta get through the lounge, the kitchen and the somehow always busy hallway. Easy, right?

The doors slid open again and you shyly stuck your head out, looking right and then left. Coast clear, thank god. You stepped out, the warm air of the lounge making your left arm throb even more than it already was, making you wince. You padded softly through the lounge, trying to make as little sound as possible, not the easiest feat when walking on hardwood floors in Doc Martins. Successfully, you made it to the kitchen without being seen. “Halfway there.” You murmured to yourself, barely above a whisper, a satisfied smile making its way to your lips. That smile, however, disappeared completely when you turned to continue your way through the kitchen and collided with a… wall? No, a perfectly chiselled torso that could belong to only one person. “Steve?” His name squeaked out, weaker than you had planned. “Y/N, what’re you doing?” Steve’s head tilted to the side, questioning why you were sneaking around the tower, your home.

“Just, uh, practicing my sneaking for missions?” Damn you and your inability to lie. The best you could do was offer him an unsure smile. “Right, well, as decent of an effort that you were making, why?” He pressed further, only slightly bruising your ego. “You can never be too prepared for sneaking.” You jut your jaw out, confidence slowly rising, that is, until Steve’s unbelieving eyes burned into yours. Your eyes dropped. Shit. That familiar red colour was soaking through your sleeve. Not a lot, but enough to notice. And Steve noticed, obviously. “What the crap Y/N, you’re bleeding!” He grabbed your arm to assess the damage, causing you to wince. “Language, Captain.” An average attempt to keep the situation light. Steve always worried about the team, worried too much when minor things happened. Even more so when it came to you. Everyone else on the team had something extra about them, a suit made of iron, mad espionage skills, being a literal god. You? You were just an average Joe-blow that started as an intern thanks to Pepper and somehow ended up getting taken in by the team. You didn’t question it and you definitely didn’t mind it, there was never a boring day on the job.

“You didn’t answer my question, Y/N,” Steve pulled you to the kitchen table, pushing you down onto a chair by your shoulders. “What happened?” He was already in a cabinet, grabbing the first aid kit. “You’ll laugh at me.” You fidgeted with your fingers, recounting what happened. “Only if it’s extra silly.” He winked, placing the first aid kit on the table and rolling up your sleeve. “These are scratches, Y/N. Who did you piss off this time?” He analysed the scratches. Too small to be a human's nails, unless from a small child? Surely not, you could almost hold your own up against Sam, a child couldn't take you down. “That local stray I’ve been feeding,” you offered him a sheepish smile. “It was extra friendly today so I thought I could try and pat it.” “Y/N, cat scratches from a regular house cat can be dangerous, let alone a stray we know nothing about.” Steve rolled his eyes. God, you were cute. You’d taken a liking to the stray cat that had been lurking around the street, started feeding it because ‘it’s so skinny, I don’t think it has a home, Stevie’. He had helped you out with it, loving watching how happy it made you when the cat slowly started warming up to you. Clearly, it hadn’t warmed up to you 100% yet. He chuckled to himself at the thought of you trying to coax it out enough to reach out to it.

“I told you you’d laugh.” You stuck your bottom lip out in a pout, half mocking, half serious. “I’m not laughing at you, just at the thought of Tigger giving you a sideswipe.” You hissed as Steve dabbed your wounds with antiseptic. “I think he was just in a bad mood. I ran out of his favourite food and he wasn’t happy with me.” That only made Steve chuckle more. “Well he can’t have been too mad with you, the scratches aren’t too deep, no need for stitches or anything like that, just a couple’a bandages.” “It’s okay, I forgive him anyways. I’ll try again in a couple of days.” You offered him a giddy smile as you watched him wrap a bandage around your forearm. “I’m beginning to think your whole thing might be animal empathy.” “I definitely wouldn’t be mad at that.” Steve looked back to you, “and you’re all done. Next time you try to tame him, invite me too.” You cocked your head, not quite sure where he was going. “So I can have a front row seat.” “You are such an arse!” You narrowed your eyes, swatting his arm with your good hand.

“How about we go get some food, cat and human, what’d’ya say?” Steve smiled down at you, offering you a hand up. “Sounds good to me,” you take his hand up, walking towards the elevator. “And I’m sure Tigger would agree too.”

[wandering-travesty]

Call Me By Your Name

    You weren’t sleezy. That was just a word idiots used to try and pull you down to their level. Yes, your hair was slicked back. Yes, your eyeshadow was dark as the night. Yes, your suit jacket barely covered your chest. Yes, your nails were painted black and sharp as daggers. But, no, you weren’t sleezy. You were dressed for your job. What was your job? Well, that was a bit more complicated….

 “I need you to get close to him.” Erwin said coolly, stubble covered chin resting on his strong hands.

 “I’m sorry?” You asked, genuinely hoping you had too much wax lodged in your ear canals.

 “You heard him.” You met the glare of the midget standing behind your boss.

 “Okay, smartass, I did. But you can’t be serious, boss! He’s beyond dangerous. Shouldn’t someone like,” you gestured in Levi’s direction, “one of the Ackermans take care of this? I’m not discounting myself or anything, but fucking with a Yeager is basically a suicide mission.” You were actually shocked Erwin asked you to do something so important. More so, dangerous. You weren’t exaggerating when you said it was a death sentence. You’d lost enough comrades to know that.

 “Listen, he’s the key to taking down the Marlian Syndicate.” You knew that, but still, this seemed out of left field. “The Ackermans are strong, yes, but they lack a certain…”

 “They’re not ready to whore themselves out. Just say that, Smith.” You understood now. The Ackermans were cold blooded killers ready to strike at any moment. However, they were awkward and completely inept at things like lust and heated and frankly revolting rendezvous. That was how he wanted you to get information for him.

 Erwin wanted you to fuck the leader of the Marlian Syndicate.

 “I wouldn’t use that wording exactly, but your assumption is correct.” Levi couldn’t seem to meet your gaze, but Erwin continued to stare straight into your soul. He was the leader of La Peste Eldienne (The Eldian Plague) for a reason. Strong, debonair, charming, and slightly insane. He could down a beer in one swig, sip a martini all night long, or abstain from alcohol completely. Whatever he needed to do, he did. He murdered, sent the idiotic young and the hopeless old to their deaths just the same, and could absolutely wine and dine a stranger until their clothes practically flew off their body if it was for the cause. You needed to be like that. Especially at a time like this.

 “I’ll do it. And I’ll do it well.” You assured your boss and his partner. Yeah, this would be easy. You could go low as the scum you were about to completely fuck over. You had been climbing up the ranks as of late, so this would be easy as pie.

Before going on your little date: you made a mental note of the main players you would have to deal with. The list you had went something like this:

Porco Galliard: Complete idiot. All brawn, no brain. Basically a bouncer with a fancier jacket and a higher salary. No worries about him doing anything funny.

Pieck Finger: The sweet little thing they kept around for good reason. Part of you wished you had to deal with her instead. She was witty and had a surprising amount of control over the shipments of cocaine and ammunition that went on about the city. Her pretty face and calm demeanor hid her true genius. She was one of the more concerning figures at tonight’s gig, but also one of the one’s more willing to hear you out before killing you.

Colt Grice: Basically a smarter but weaker version of Galliard. He was really only part of the Syndicate to learn from the best and become a great mafioso one day. You had high hopes for him, despite yourself.

Bertholdt Hoover: A freakishly tall mix of the last three members of the gang. So sweaty and shaky he wasn’t allowed to handle guns under any circumstance. That told you all you needed to know about his threat level.

Annie Leonhardt: Tiny, quiet ball of rage and skill. Could murder you in an instant, but would only do so if ordered. Not a concern unless someone else found you out, or you didn’t like being glared at all night.

Reiner Braun: His personality changed with the passing minutes. Could be calm and almost kind, or could snap your neck like a twig in his giant ass hand. He was a wildcard, and a dangerous one. Though he was obsessed with following orders and being the perfect little soldier boy, so you didn’t need to worry about him if no one told him to start shooting.

Yelena: Even more freakishly tall than Hoover. Also freakishly obsessed with the gang leader and his “master plan”, whatever the hell that was. Maybe you would find out tonight. Anyways, she would only do anything if you threatened the boss in any way. If you did your job right, that wouldn’t be an issue.

Eren Yeager: Easily the most brash and idiotic member of the gang. His problem was that he was trigger happy. In this business, trigger happy meant dozens of dead innocents piled up on the club floor in an instant. You had to be careful around him. Unlike most of the others, he would kill you without thinking.

And the top dog. The man of the hour. The man you had to seduce:

Zeke Yeager: Think Erwin but with more wit and charm. Not to mention more of a sadistic mindset. His favorite game was cat and mouse, seeing how long it took before he had a good excuse to have someone drawn and quartered. His expertise was slow torture that the victim didn’t even really know was happening before the barrel of the gun was already pointed to their temple. And you had to fuck him so stupid he leaked confidential information.

 The only other issue with Zeke was his habit of sleeping around. Yes, he was a tramp by most standards. A harlot with exotic tastes. You had heard stories of him seducing women and men alike, and god only knew what they did once he succeeded. What that meant for you was he would be hard to impress.

 So, you were here to beat him at his own game. And if you were found out, his younger brother would most likely shoot you on the spot. That was, if one of the others did it first. Or even worse, Zeke decided to be a tried and true asshole and torture you to death. The options were endless, and you hated them all.

 So there you sat, ass perched on a bar stool, sipping on a gin rickey and waiting for your opportunity. The room smelled strongly of tobacco, rum, and cinnamon. At least you would die surrounded by what you loved, you thought, laughing grimly to yourself. Men and women danced to slow songs you faintly recognized. The air buzzed with haughty laughter and upper class small talk. You barely had any idea how to interact with high society shitheads as high and mighty as the ones Yeager surrounded himself with. You weren’t often sent out to jobs like this. You were like Levi, born in the slums and never taught how to properly behave. You knew what you had to, much like your knowledge of the goings on of La Peste Eldienne. You knew your gang traded drugs, ammunition, and whatever else was a hot commodity at the time, but nothing other than that. You were actually quite glad to know nothing, since that made you a pretty unimportant person to rival gangs. Not as many death threats and kidnapping attempts came your way, unlike the ones Erwin, Hange, and Levi got every day. You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts on the gang hierarchy.

 “Excuse me, miss. The boss wants to chat with ya’ real quick.” A man with greasy hair and green, catlike eyes softly gripped your shoulder. Considering what you knew of Galliard, you figured that grip wouldn’t be soft for much longer if you didn’t do as he suggested.

 “Oh, alright. Did he happen to mention why?” You were genuinely curious. Porco didn’t offer you any solid answer, but there was a reasonable explanation.

 Zeke wanted to get his rocks off. Parties could be interesting, with the right people, of course. The right people hadn’t happened to show up that night. You, on the other hand, seemed interesting. To be frank, you were gorgeous. Even from a distance, he could tell there was something behind your eyes that spelled trouble. He loved people like you. Vicious, cunning, witty, all hidden behind an uninterested and bored demeanor. Those were the people he wanted around him. The best examples were Pieck, and surprisingly, Levi. They seemed to be completely different people than the ones hiding behind their eyes, and Zeke loved to see how long it took to break them down. Well, he was a bit kinder to Pieck, but you and Ackerman got the rough treatment.

 “Zeke, what the hell’re you doin’?” Eren pulled him out of his rather disgusting thoughts of…things better left unsaid.

 “I’m going to talk to a woman, Eren. What does it seem like I’m doing?” Zeke had a sharp tongue and quick wit, which he didn’t spare even his brother from.

 “I get that, but why that one? She seems…shady t’me. I wouldn’t let ‘er get too close, y’know?”

 “Eren, please be rational.” Zeke held a palm out in front of Eren, as if to physically stop his train of thought. “You and Yelena will shoot at the first sign of danger, so inviting this lovely woman to join us for a harmless chat isn’t a danger in the slightest.” Zeke reassured his brother, neglecting to tell him his true intentions. He was sure that would just make him more upset and skittish, which was dangerous for everyone there.

 “’Kay, boss. Got the dame ya’ asked for.” Porco trudged to the brothers’ secluded table with you in tow. He had kept one hand on your shoulder and the other right above your ass. The two main reasons being: one, he didn’t want someone so seemingly important to escape his grip, and two, you had a nice ass.

 “Ah, thank you Galliard…you can let her go now.” He gave Porco a knowing smirk. He let you go immediately and walked away, cheeks slightly reddened. Zeke didn’t want someone else touching his new toy.

 “I’m sorry if this comes off as rude, but did you need something from me? That man made me leave my gin at the bar and I would like to finish it at some point.” Oh, Zeke was going to love you. You weren’t flighty or scared in the slightest. He knew you had seen some serious shit. Not to mention how you cared more about your alcohol than a dangerous mafia boss and his younger brother ordering you over to their table. You were attractive and relatable. What a catch.

 “My apologies, Galliard tends to be a bit, how do you say, brutish. Feel free to order something new and sit down with us.” He gave you a smile that told you it wasn’t a suggestion. This guy was already just as bad as everyone had told you. He hailed a waiter over to the table. You knew that wasn’t some kind gesture, rather a show of how much power he had over everyone there. His long, thick fingers and suave smile also showed you how easily swayed you could be by dashing looks and raw power.

 He held himself like a king but talked like a philosopher. At the same time, he was down to earth yet still slightly condescending. You never knew where you stood with him, and he liked it that way. His flaxen hair was parted down the middle, and unlike most of the men there along with yourself with their hair hardened with pomade, it was fluffy and moved as he gestured wildly when he spoke. He tended to talk with his hands, once again drawing attention to just how attractive they were. His face was indescribably beautiful. His eyes were like stormy oceans cascading with passion and intrigue. His lips looked soft and plush with a wonderful roseate hue. His beard was well groomed and framed his sharp jaw perfectly. His gold rimmed glasses had a habit of hiding his eyes when thrown into direct light, which often happened with how he talked with his whole body. The way he constantly made direct eye contact with you had you lost in a daze of desire and fear. Was this all some sick ploy to get you to slip up and get everyone you loved killed along with yourself? Or was he seriously that interested in you?

 Eren was quiet most of the time, unless Zeke spoke to him. He didn’t like you. You were too similar to Zeke for his tastes.

 “Say, Eren, could you pass me a smoke?”

 “Oh, so you do have vices. See, you never ordered a drink for yourself, so I assumed you were a man above pleasures of the flesh.” You flashed a toothy grin at him, signaling that it was just playful banter. You two were both rather good at that.

 “My dear, the more you get to know me, the better you will understand just how enthralled with earthly pleasures I am.” He winked, and it sent you to the moon with want. How could a man be so gorgeous, charming, dangerous, and sadistic all at the same time? And why did you have to deal with it? You needed him out of his right mind, but it seemed like that could never happen. Whether it came from alcohol, drugs, or sex. You planned to use a mixture of all three. As you continued your playful jabs and taunts at each other, you found your opportunity to seal the deal. One sniff of the white stuff and he was putty in your hands.

 “Now you know, Mr. Yeager, gin isn’t my only vice.” You kept your usual sly tone.

 “Oh really? That is quite the interesting thing to say.” He matched your energy perfectly. This was too good.

 “Have you ever happened to try, well, what do they call it these days? Well, I tend to call it blow. Snow, stardust, snort, sugar, crack, whichever you prefer, I suppose.” Oh, how brave of you to mention your own trade to your top competitor.

 “Why, yes, I have indeed partook in snorting blow. Is there any reason as to why you’re asking me that right now, darling?” You wished he would stop with the pet names. Or rather, you wished you would stop loving them so much. It felt dirty to enjoy your enemy’s company to this extent.

 “Well, I was wondering if you might like to sneak off and try some of my personal mix.” You leaned in close, covering the side of you mouth with your hand. Eren wasn’t a bad kid or anything, but he’d mess with your plan, and you couldn’t have that. Especially not with his slippery ass trigger finger.

 “Your own personal mix, eh? Don’t tell me you’re involved in the trade, now.” He leaned in just shy of touching your lips. “That wouldn’t be very good for either of us, sweetheart.” That’s it, you were fucking this man if it was part of your plan or not. The entire thing could go south, and you’d still want this man’s dick in your mouth. You didn’t really care anymore. He was too hot to handle, and you were this close to cracking under the pressure. Zeke was right, you were fun to play with.

 “Not at all, I just happen to know the right people.” You grinned at him, knowing you technically weren’t lying. It was your own little inside joke, or so you thought.

 The next thing you knew you were in Zeke’s penthouse, smashed up against the wall with a hand around your neck. By all accounts, this is what you wanted, but it was also quite the opposite.

 “Dearest, I find it insulting that you think I would fall for that pitiful act.” He had you figured out from the moment you walked in. Zeke Yeager never forgot a pretty face. He’d wanted to have you naked in his bed for months, and here you were, all helpless and needy. You were adorable, thinking you could get whatever you wanted from him.

 “Smith was a fool to send anyone, let alone a little minx like you.” You hated how good being insulted by this bitch felt. How did he make it so that your panties got wetter every time he called you a different synonym for whore? It was so awful and so amazing.

 “I’m the slut, yet you’re the one actively trying to fuck me? Do I have that right?” You quipped the best you could from under the pressure of his strong hand.

 “Alright then, we’re both sluts. But the difference between us is that I admit it, yet you pretend to be this perfect little princess in order to fuck powerful men like me.” His grip on your neck tightened as if to add injury to insult.

 “Don’t insult me,” you had to catch your breath between each word, “I fuck men ten times more powerful than you.” But, god was it worth it. You figured he might slap you or otherwise reprimand you, but no, the bastard just smiled wide. What a fucking asshole.

 “Maybe to you.” He widened his cheshire grin. “Maybe you think Erwin’s more powerful. That he has a bigger cock and sucking it will get you further in life.” He pushed you further into the wall. “Or maybe letting Ackerman smack your ass will earn you some cash. Or having Zacharius sniff around your cunt instead of your neck will rise you up the ranks, hmm?” You just grimaced at him, knowing none of it was true. “Or maybe,” he let out a chuckle, “letting Zoe do whatever the hell they’re into will get you more coke and gin.” He was mocking you, ruthlessly, with no signs of stopping, and without letting you get a word in. You were starting to see black spots in your line of vision.

 “Well, fucking with me will get you much more, angel.” He finally let your neck go, letting you fall to the ground, left to look up at the devil in front of you.

 “You fucking suck.” You glared at him, not necessarily trying to hide how much you were enjoying this. As it happened, you weren’t some innocent angel. No, you weren’t a sadistic maniac like Zeke, but you knew what you wanted, and it wasn’t necessarily vanilla. As if reading your earlier thoughts, he bent down to your place on the floor.

 He slapped you, and it wasn’t gentle.

 “You’re a sloppy whore on your best days, now get up and strip.” Well if worst came to worst, you could say that you got him where you wanted him…just not exactly how you wanted him, or with a guarantee you would get what you wanted out of him. Honestly, you felt kind of flattered by his attention and apparent need to fuck you.

 “God, do I have to do everything for you, sweetheart?” Apparently you had been standing around catching your breath too long for his liking. He had made quick work of his own jacket, shirt, and dress pants, leaving him in a black pair of boxers. You hated admitting how magnificent he looked. He was muscular, but not in the same way someone like Reiner or Erwin was. Every single limb on him was lengthy and wiry, thus the bruise marks forming on your neck. While on the subject of length, from what you could see, it applied to his cock as much as it did his other appendages. If it looked that good through the black fabric, you couldn’t even dream of what it would look like out in the open, slapping against his defined v-line and abs.

 You hadn’t even noticed him getting closer to you, completely forgetting about his earlier demand turned complaint.

 “Not only are you a harlot, you’re a useless one, as well.” He came close enough for you to smell the hints of smoke, pine, and black tea that wafted off of him. He started playing with the collar of your shirt. “But damn if you aren’t a pretty one…” He said that more to himself than you, clearly not being comfortable complimenting you. He saw you as a toy, a pawn in his game of chess he was playing with the rest of the world.

 You decided that would be your last deep thought as he began to undress you. Nimbly moving his fingers down each button of your dress shirt, until it came completely undone and bore your chest to him. You were by no means flat, which seemed to entertain the man in front of you.

 “I knew you’d be the perfect slut for me.” He groped your breasts through your bra, hands greedy with the clear goal of making you yearn for him. “Perfect tits, soft skin, pretty face, nice ass, strong will. Yeah, you’ll be fun to break.” He gave you one of his signature smirks, making you want to crush his windpipe and deepthroat his dick at the same time.

 You shrugged your top off your shoulders and let him snake his arms around your chest to undo your bra and expose your tits to the cool air of the room. He didn’t waste time kissing your filthy mouth, and instead skipped straight to your sensitive neck. He slowly dragged his soft lips down your throat, kissing his way over to both sides and under your jaw. He licked and sucked at any area that made you gasp or let out some embarrassing little noise you tried to desperately to hide. He hated how you hid, he needed you to need him, to want him at a level beyond human comprehension. He wanted to destroy you, do break you down to your most animalistic and pitiful form. You were strong, that was for damn sure, but he wanted to fix that.

 He took all this into account as he began nipping at the tops of your breasts. He moved from one to the other with no clear pattern. He dragged his tongue down to your right nipple, only touching the tip of his tongue to it, making you shiver in anticipation and let out a small whine. Yes, that was the progress he wanted to see from you. He swirled his tongue around it, slowly making his way to the center, harshly sucking it into his mouth. He pulled his sinful mouth away from you, leaving a trail of saliva connecting him to you. He quickly made his way to your other nipple, doing the same and driving you just as wild.

 “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to make more noise, darling.” He teased, sounding genuinely annoyed with you.

 “Well, maybe if you did a better job, I would be louder.” You had discovered your talent of keeping up with his smart mouth, and you used it to your advantage. You wanted to rile him up; to get a rise out of him. As previously stated, you didn’t want a vanilla little love making session, you wanted to fuck.

 “Alright then, if you’re so keen on keeping quiet,” he put his rough hands on your bare shoulders, pushing you back onto the ground, this time on your knees, “how about I stuff that mouth?” You hated how good he was at turning you on.

 He pulled his dick out right in front of your face, letting it lay on his toned abs, just as you had envisioned it. It was easily 10 inches long, 5 inches thick, with a slight upturn that could drive you insane if it hit the right spots, which it would. It was flushed pink and dripping pre-cum; it was pretty.

 “Well, are you just going to gawk at it or are you going to make yourself useful, slut?” The sweet pet names were out the window, swiftly replaced with the most debasing insults he could think of. To avoid any more of his smart ass remarks, you took his thick cock in your hands. You slowly stroked it, taking in exactly how big it was. You moved your plush lips closer, giving it a few small kitten licks to test the waters. You kissed the head and gave longer licks up the side, earning a grunt or two from the man above you. As you began to swirl your tongue around his tip, his strong hand came down and pushed on the back of your head. It wasn’t gentle, forcing you to take him down your throat. Considering his size, it was no shock that you choked on it at first, but he kept his hand on your hair, forcing you to stay on him.

 “That’s it, sweetheart, keep that dirty mouth on fat cock.” Tears starting pooling in your eyes as you struggled to breath around his length. “Aww, are you actually crying?” He cooed, taking sick pleasure in mocking you. “How pathetic of you, darling.” His words send shockwaves of shame and pleasure down to your core. You abhorred how badly you needed him inside of you. As he let out a low moan, he pulled you off his cock, tugging your hair just enough to make you even wetter.

 “Alright, angel. I’m not a big fan of blowjobs, so we’ll leave it at that.” You coughed a little as he bent down to your heaving form.

 “Really? That’s a shock.” That was your genuine reaction. You were far too fucked out to be a smart ass at this point.

 “Yeah, you’re not the first to make that observation.” Much to your surprise, he picked you up bridal style, barely breaking a sweat in the process of getting you to his bedroom. Though the lights were on, you couldn’t take in many details, your cock drunk state making it difficult to process anything other than the warm, bare skin of the monster you tried so hard to vanquish.

 “Now, lets get these cute little panties off, hmm?” You had forgotten him taking off your pants in the heat of the moment. His menacing figure loomed overtop of you, slowly sinking down to your thighs. He placed licks and kisses all over them, leaving a few bite marks along with them. You moaned louder than before, feeling too blissed out to care about your pride. You felt large, tepid fingers hooking themselves between your legs and into your panties. He pulled them to the side, wanting to really take you in. Despite his lust for power and dominance, he much preferred giving head to receiving it, especially when it came to women and their soft, tender pussies. You were no exception to this rule.

 “Goddamn you’re fucking wet.” You looked up at you, making you lean your head back to avoid his gaze. “You must like me more than you care to admit, sweetie.” Just after saying this, he ran one long finger up your dripping slit, coating his fingertip in your slick. He looked at it shimmering in the low light of the room, grinning before taking it into his mouth and tasting what your cunt had to offer.

 “You taste like heaven. Surprising, considering what a nasty girl you are.” Unlike you, he could keep that smartass act up for hours on end, no matter how lost in your sex he was. He landed a chaste kiss to your throbbing heat before flattening his tongue to lick a fat stripe up the middle. He began to devour you, making the lewdest noises you had ever heard in the process. You felt amazing, and disgusting, and just about every other emotion you had ever felt in your life. He was a god at eating your pussy, feeling no remorse in having his lips and beard dripping with your juices. To hell with the burn marks he left on your thighs and the burning sense of guilt you had for moaning so loud and creaming all over the face of your greatest enemy. Shame and guilt were for foolish children with no place in the world, Zeke wanted to enjoy every last second of destroying you.

 As he continued to lick and suck at your most sensitive spots, you began to feel your stomach tighten, signaling your closeness. Zeke noticed as well, taking note of your erupting moans and groans and tugs at his silky hair. He moaned on your clit, the vibrations sending you over the edge. You came all over his face, arching your back of the soft sheets and making you scream his name. He kept his lips attached to your clit as you came down from your high, keeping you ensnared in his trap of bliss.

 “God, you moan like a fucking whore, you know that?” The way he insulted you felt disgustingly good, especially coming from such a obnoxiously handsome man.

 “And you eat pussy like a god.” The veil of hatred came off in one foul swoop. You couldn’t hold back how you truly felt about Zeke Yeager. You were in love with the way he treated you, and spoke to you, and ate you, and soon enough, fucked you. He was so damn good, and you just hated to love and loved to hate him.

 “Oh, do I now?” He let out a low chuckle, taking pride in how helpless and stupid he had made you. “Does that make me your god, pet?” It wasn’t a real question. He knew the answer, and he loved that answer: yes.

 “Now, how about I partake in some earthly pleasures and fuck your brains out, sweetheart?” He questioned, moving his arms up to rest on both sides of your head. His face was right above yours, lips hovering over your breathless, panting ones.

 “Yes, please.” Your eyebrows scrunched together as you grew impatient and needy as all hell. Zeke had a sinister idea. God was a nice term, but he could think of a better one.

 “How about you beg daddy for it?” He was such a disgusting pervert, and he relished in it. You mustered all the strength you could in order to speak.

 “Please fuck my pussy, daddy.” That was all he needed to push himself inside your tight heat. Your walls clenched as he thrusted balls deep inside of you, not caring if you needed to adjust or not. Luckily, you didn’t, despite his size.

 “Fuck yes, angel. You’re so goddamn tight.” He thrusted into you with reckless abandon, using you more than making love to you, which is exactly what you both wanted. Your walls clenched and throbbed as he brought you to orgasm once again.

 “Cumming all over my cock, sweetheart? Such a dirty whore.” He teased, continuing his motions, hitting your g-spot over and over again without much issue. His dick was perfect, reaching every inch of you that made you scream out in pleasure and overstimulated bliss. All of this for a few bags of cocaine and bullets. You weren’t even thinking of that as he pounded into you, getting rougher and sloppier than before. He was getting close to his own high just as you were about to reach your third. No one had ever made you feel like this. You never wanted to let him go. Fuck everyone you cared about, this was too damn good to throw away.

 “Where do you want my cum, slut?” He asked seconds before climaxing.

 “Wherever you want it, daddy.” That was exactly what he wanted to hear. You had been molded into the perfect toy for him, even if it was just for the moment. He had debased and perverted you, like putty in his hands. You thought you could just waltz in there and take what you wanted from him. But no, instead you were writhing around on his bed with his fat cock filling up your pussy while you screamed for your daddy. You were filthy, slutty perfection. He quickly pulled out of you and shot his cum on your stomach and chest. Noticing you were still squirming around, he pushed his thumb to your clit and rubbed circles as two of his fingers entered you and hit your sweet spot.

 “Come on, slutty girl, cum for daddy.” This time felt different than the others. You were completely out of your mind with pleasure and lust, and he was hitting just the right spots. You came around his fingers, squirting your juices and ruining his sheets. As if he could sense it, he had moved his face down just in time for it to reach his mouth, coating yet another layer of your cum on his beard. He licked his lips, savoring you taste and the blissed out, fuck drunk look on your face. He wished he could keep you like this forever. No, he would make sure to keep you like this forever. You were going to be his for the rest of time, no matter what it took. Even if he had to play the long game and pretend you had a choice in the matter.

 “Well, sweetheart, I’m afraid you have to go home empty handed. I’m sure those tarts will just pat you on the head and congratulate you for trying your best. That’s why they’ll never surpass me, and that’s why you will come crawling back to me.” You couldn’t respond, too disappointed and drained to say a word.

 “I have a shower that I recommend you use.” He looked down at you, your eyes hazy and barely focused on him. You were completely exposed to him. You looked beautiful. “In an act of civility, I’ll let you sleep here tonight. On a different bed, of course, considering the damage you’ve done.” You laughed at that, and he followed suite.

 “You know Zeke, for a monster, you’re not too bad.” You looked at him, admiration clear in your eyes.

 “You’re not too unbearable either.”

[lovelyisadora]

ANYWAY plot!!!

Septimus gets hurt in the darke halls and doesn't tell anyone bc the only thing that could actually cure it is very powerful magyk and marcia's the only one he can think of that could do it. But she's not there and when they find her they're busy with other things so he just doesn't tell them

Once everyone's left and he's alone with marcia (and jillie djinns ghost on the sofa rip) he tells her and she's like what the fuck!! Why didn't you mention this?!!! And they're urgent but they're not Panicking bc sep doesn't realise how bad it's gotten and marcias only just heard abt it so she assumes it's not too serious

She goes to look at it and is like. Oh shit. Bc it's so much worse than she thought. She heals it but it uses up basically all the energy sep has left and also he's been bleeding out the whole time and he gets to his bed and passes out and then. He dies while he's sleeping

Marcia stops Hearing his heartbeat and goes to check he's okay and like. He's not. And her breathing thing doesn't work. And she panics and starts spiralling because oh god not again and she goes a little bit insane and casts some sort of spell to make sure seps body doesn't start like rotting and then disappears to the library

It takes her a couple days to be prepared (she's been telling everyone he got hurt and hes recovering, he needs rest stop asking to see him) but she's barely holding on and her emotions are everywhere and she's so so tired and she didn't read the small print and she fucks up the spell. You need to be fully and completely concentrated on what you're doing to be able to bring someone back successfully and with no major ill effects and marcia can hardly even remember to breathe let alone to keep her emotions in check

Septimus is alive, thank god, but she's forgotten the side effects of being brought back and because of her mistakes she's managed to link his life to hers and he's constantly draining her life force - killing her slowly. So slowly it'll be more than a decade before she actually dies but still, its happening and she's only going to get weaker and weaker as time goes on and when she dies septimus will too. The "weirdness" that surrounds septimus now is also much, much stronger than it should be. It should be almost negligible but instead to anyone who isn't marcia they're going to get a strong urge to not let him come within 10 feet

Marcia doesn't know any of this

Septimus wakes up sees marcia who looks so so tired and she smiles a tiny bit and then passes out on a chair next to his bed

He's like ?? bc all he remembers is telling marcia he was hurt and maybe showing her? And then nothing

That's all for rn <3 I need to properly think abt the rest abdjbdhf

Ok jesus fuck that’s not where I thought that was going, that’s so sad…poor marcia, saving him at the expense of herself…only for them both to eventually die…god

[jimlingss]

Hi! I hope you are doing well ☺️ I have a request!

With Jimin, mainly fluff, a tiny angst and a smudge of smut if you are comfortable, I was thinking in frenemies2l au 😅 you know like they are friends but there is tension, but the good kind and feelings and witty banter and maybe some misunderstanding

“Can I at least tell my side of the story?” 

“I can’t keep playing pretend.”

“I’d do anything for you.” 

“You should probably go home.” “But I’m already home.”

Love your writing btw!! ❣️

Anonymous said: jimin x fluff/crack humour x “Is the cat in a onesie?” “Uh, no? (optional!) x someone contracts Black Cat Flu: a disease that causes chronic bad luck and has to be under quarantine. method of cure? up to you!

↳ Black Cat Flu

2.9k || 98% Fluff, 2% Angst || Park Jimin || Magic!AU, Frenemies!AU

Every night, you answer house calls.

It’s a tough job from time to time, especially when patients are difficult or the problem itself is complex. One thing’s for sure — there’s never a shortage of issues. Plenty of witches and wizards like to be irresponsible with magic. But you enjoy the job. It’s worth it when you can leave with a sound heart that your patient is on their way to recovering. It’s worth staying up past dusk and dawn when you know you’ve eased a family and saved them from unnecessary grief.

But what you don’t expect is answering a house call for Park Jimin.

You’re standing in front of his townhouse with a long sigh, gripping your first aid kit in one hand and your wand in the other. In spite of the sharp black gate and the pointed edges of his roof that gives off an eerie feeling, he’s decorated the front windows with goofy, flashing pumpkin stickers and charmed fireflies to twinkle and light up the stair railing. That was Jimin for you.

You knock on the door.

Immediately, you hear thumps that follow, a muffled curse and then the door opens.

On the other side, Jimin is disheveled. His brown hair is sticking in all directions, his navy shorts are covered in soot and short enough to be boxers, and there’s a tear in his black and white long sleeve. You try to not to stare at the skin of his tummy. It’s not too hard to resist when his brown eyes are perfectly rounded and he’s staring into your soul with a distressed expression.

The door knob falls into his hand.

“Y/N! Thank god, it’s you!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything!”

Your brow lifts. “Like usual?”

Jimin hangs his head. “It’s even worse.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. What did you do this time?”

You step inside the house and notice the thick smoke billowing out from one of the rooms. Jimin barely manages to shove the door shut behind you. “I was experimenting and something happened and now everything around me keeps breaking.”

His black cat, Seokjin, scurries across the floor of the living room. He turns his head to hiss at you and then disappears down the hall. You look at Jimin. “Is the cat in a onesie?” 

“Uh, no?” 

You don’t prod and pry more than you have to. You’ve been friends with Jimin long enough to know better than to ask what goes on in that brain of his. You’ll never understand him. Nor do you want to.

Instead, you follow after him.

Jimin’s always been clumsy, so it’s no surprise when he trips on the hall rug. But it’s never been this bad — arms flailing, body like jelly, feet slipping. “Woah!” You step back and he manages to grasp onto the door frame for balance before he can eat shit. But it breaks in his hand.

Part of the door frame crumbles off and into his hand. He curses and looks at you. “See what I mean?”

You peek into the room. The cauldron is still steaming. It smells like catnip. 

“What were you trying to make?”

“A sweet potion.”

From your fuzzy knowledge of potions class years ago, you recall it being the weaker counterpart to the infamous love potion. Some might dub it as a liking potion. 

You hum curiously. You thought Jimin had no problems trying to make friends.

Jimin grabs a bottle off his shelf and the moment it’s in his palm, the glass bursts in his hand. He looks at you. You’re expressionless. “Go lay down.”

“If you lay with me,” Jimin says while he tries to shake the glass off. You whirl your wand and every fragment and shard floats in the air before showering down to the ground. 

You give him a lazy glare and lift your first aid kit up. “I’m going to toss this at you.”

The boy grins. “That’s not really my kink, but if it’s you, I might be into it.”

Yet in spite of Jimin’s mouthiness, he still listens to you and makes his way to his room.

On the way, he turns slightly. “Have you been busy tonight?”

“Not reall— Jimin!”

Your shout is too late. He collides with his own decorative flower vase and it shatters around his feet into a million bits. Jimin deflates, shoulders slugging, looking down at what was once his favourite vase that he got from his late grandma. “Shit.”

“Don’t move,” you warn him. But yet again, it’s too late.

As the words are coming out of your mouth and before your wand can whirl again, he’s stepping back. Right onto a mountain of sharp glass fragments. Jimin winces. You groan. He bleeds all over the place.

You barely manage to get him into bed and his feet bandaged.

“Say ah.”

“Ah.”

You look into his mouth with the light from the tip of your wand and a popsicle stick pressed against his tongue. Then you hum and move to shine the light in each of his eyes to look at his pupils.

“I think I need mouth-to-mouth,” Jimin says.

“I’m not that kind of doctor,” you mutter.

He grins and you step back, finished with the examination. “Am I dying, doctor?”

“No. It’s much worse,” you deadpan and Jimin looks genuinely taken aback. A second later, you snort with a smile. “I’m kidding.”

Jimin sighs in exasperation. “You shouldn’t play with my heart like that. There’s only so much I can take when you’re already this hot.”

He wiggles his brows and scans your figure up and down, but you’re not so sure what there is to look at when you’re tired, sweaty, and covered from head to toe, dressed in black and just a white doctor’s coat. “You contracted Black Cat Disease. Looks like a bad case too. A bad case of bad luck.” 

You open the first aid kit and spray yourself with disinfect ten times over, making sure to get every inch of your body. Then you’re putting on a mask and gloves. Magic can only do so much — personal protective equipment will do the rest.

“Aw, this means I really can’t kiss you tonight, can I?”

You ignore him. “You have to be under quarantine for the time being.”

“What’s the cure?”

“True love’s kiss.” Silence. The corner of your lip tugs. “Kidding. Rest and sleep. All flus past that way.”

You come over and push Jimin’s shoulder so he’s no longer sitting up and his back hits the mattress, head against the pillows. You tug the blanket up over his body and he pouts.

“This sucks.”

“Sure does. Now rest. I’ll make a tonic for you.” You shift on your feet and get to your kit without a moment’s rest. You want to treat Jimin as quickly as possible.

But before you get out the door, his soft voice stops you—

“Thanks, Y/N. I mean it.”

You peek over your shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know I’d do anything for you.” There’s a strangely intimate pause as Jimin gazes at you with a tender smile. It makes you sweat and you hastily add, “Plus, this is my job.”

...

You’ve nursed a lot of people before. But Jimin is not on your list of people you want to offer your expertise to. He’s your friend, yes, but lately, you’ve been more distant. He can just be a bit too much sometimes. Especially now. 

“What the hell are you doing.”

He’s up. Standing by his bedroom cobblestone fireplace. Wrapped in his blankets. And the corner of said blanket is on fire. Jimin manages to stomp it out before it can light up the entire goddamn thing and burn his body as well. There’s definitely no cure for that.

He sulks. “I was just trying to start the fireplace. I’m cold!”

“Go back to bed before I knock you out.”

With your monotone and dead stare, Jimin knows not to mess around. He doesn’t banter or add unnecessary comments. “Yes, ma’am.”

You sigh and as he gets settled down again, you place the tonic down on his bedside.

As much as you want to answer another house call and escape this place, you can’t leave him be. Jimin almost set himself and the house on fire, and knowing him, he’d somehow hurt himself again and you’d have to come back anyway. There’s no one else to take care of him. At least not here.

“When you get better, you should probably go home.” You look down to see his chubby fingers gripping the edge of the blanket that he’s brought to the bridge of his nose. The only features of Jimin revealed are his eyes and his soft locks of hair against the pillow. He looks both dumb and cute. You can’t decide which. “To your parents.”

Jimin’s eyes crinkle and you know he’s smiling. “But I’m already home.”

For the briefest of moments, a mere millisecond, your brows furrow. 

You quickly turn away, but Jimin caught your expression all too easily. His smile falls.

There’s an undeniable tension to the air ever since you stepped foot inside this house. Every bantering remark from you has had more of a vicious bite to it than usual. And you know you’ve been shutting down his playful teasing each time when you used to entertain it more. But it’s all been subtle. No one should notice the change.

Too bad Jimin’s too perceptive for his own good. 

He can tell you’re not comfortable, that your shoulders are tense, that you’re trying to get out of here….

And sensing a confrontation, you make an escape. “I have to grab something from—”

The blanket is thrown off. Jimin lurches forward. His hand wraps around your wrist before you’re too far away.

“I can’t keep playing pretend,” he murmurs in a velvet voice, mischievous side tucked away in favour of something more serious. “Pretend that everything’s okay. That we’re okay.”

You control your expression, turn to face him and you play dumb. “What do you mean?”

“You’re mad.”

You scoff and something inside you snaps. He just has to force a confrontation when you clearly don’t want one, doesn’t he? But why are you surprised. What Jimin wants, Jimin gets. 

“Why would I be mad? That you dated Jungkook when you knew I had it bad for him?” Your sarcasm is venomous and it’s spat from your lips. “Of course not! I’m over it.” 

You never expected your friend would become your love rival. You know Jimin’s ass is nice — it’s clear to see. But you never knew it would be weaponized against you.

He winces and lets go of you. “Can I at least tell my side of the story?”

“What could your side possibly be, Jimin? What’s your excuse this time?”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“You knew I liked Jungkook! I told you about it. I confided in you. But you went ahead and dated him anyway!”

Jimin sputters. “It’s not my fault he liked me!”

The hand gripping your wand quivers but in your anger, you still know better than to use an offensive spell against him. “You were giving him signals!”

Jimin slumps. It’s an admission of guilt.

Yet he still has the audacity to blurt, “I just didn’t want him to go out with you!”

“Why?! Because you’d be jealous?!” you shout and he pales. You know you’ve hit bullseye, so you keep going, “You don’t want to be the only lonely one? You’d rather us both not date?”

Jimin sighs out of frustration. “It’s not like that, Y/N.”

There’s a burning in your eyes. In the back of your mind, you wonder if you got infected with the Black Cat Disease, but you realize it’s tears. Which is even worse.

“It was a shitting thing to do,” you seethe in a sharp whisper. “And you didn’t even like him. You dumped him after three days.”

“I had to.”

But by then, you don’t want to hear him anymore. You can’t take it anymore. 

You twist on your heel and leave the room, eyes stinging at the betrayal of your friend. You don’t know why he has to confront you now when you’re supposed to be working. He’s always catching you off guard, always caring more for himself. Jimin has no regard for you whatsoever.

You have half a mind to realize Jimin’s chasing after you, limping on his bandaged foot.

“Will you just wait? Where are you going?! Y/N!” The floorboard in the hall cracks. Jimin’s other foot falls through and becomes lodged into the ground. He curses aloud, physically stuck in place. But you don’t turn around. He’s not your problem anymore. He should’ve never been—

“I can’t date him when I’m in love with you!”

You freeze. And turn around. “What?”

“I know. I fucked up. I just….I didn’t want Jungkook to go out with you. So I started to flirt with him and the next thing I know, he’s asking me out. I didn’t know you’d be so hurt, that you liked him so much.” Jimin’s downcast eyes search the floor in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

“What did you just say?”

He looks up at you. “I’m sorry.”

“No, before that.”

“I...didn’t want Jungkook to go out with you..?”

“No, you idiot! You’re in love with me?”

“Yeah.” Jimin shifts and realizes his foot is still stuck in the floor. He winces. “Fuck, Y/N. My feet really hurt. I need to sit down.”

You immediately move, putting his arm around your shoulder and hoisting him up. The both of you are silent as you guide him back into bed. His house is practically destroyed from his bad luck — door knobs gone, door frames chipped off, glass shards everywhere, smoke in the living room and now a giant hole in the hallway. But you know there’s nothing a wand can’t fix, so you push it all aside. 

There’s more important matters to deal with.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” you whisper, unable to believe it.

Jimin, lying on his bed, turns his head towards you and the corners of his mouth draw meekly. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but guess I did that anyway.” After a beat, he reveals, “I was….I was making that potion for you. I wanted you to like me again.”

“Why? Did you think I hated you or something?”

“Seemed like it.” He smiles more genuinely. “Especially after all that, how could I not?”

“I was just mad. Still kind of am.” You scoff lightly, unable to fathom how everything spiraled out of control from one event. You’ll truly never understand how Jimin’s brain works and how he managed to make such a mess. He’s stupid. Endearingly stupid. “I’d kiss you if you weren’t sick.”

All at once, Jimin’s eyes light up. “You...you don’t hate me for being in love with you?”

“No, you idiot.”

“Then…..do you feel the same way?”

“It’s just a lot to take in,” you admit, feeling your face warm. This was a different kind of confrontation that you didn’t expect to happen tonight and you’re not sure you hate it. “But...when you get better, take me on a proper date and I’ll tell you then.”

Jimin grins, getting settled into his sheets. “I’m feeling better already.”

....

epilogue.

((Jimin, in fact, does not feel better. He wakes up worse and you end up having to deliver him into the clinic where he’s looked after for the next two weeks. It’s one of the worst Black Cat Disease cases that the witch doctors have ever seen. His entire house ends up being taped off for being a biohazard and the potion in the cauldron is taken as a biochemical weapon. It’ll apparently be two months until he can move back in, so he’s rendered homeless.

When he’s discharged from the clinic, you take him in. 

And that date doesn’t happen for a while considering his feet take much longer to recover and he’s practically limping everywhere. Apparently the glass really got lodged in there and his floorboards are super sharp once they’ve been punctured. But he still tries to take you for a midnight broom ride. You stop him when his bandages are soaked with blood. That one attempt doubled his recovery time. 

It turns out his cat, Seokjin, was stuck in a onesie because it was Jimin’s way of dealing with the fleas on his cat. As if covering the issue would make it go away. And by the time you realized this, your house had an entire flea infestation.

When Jimin’s healthy again, you’re this close to kicking him out. But with every mistake he makes, he fixes each of them. Sort of. And he really does manage to sweep you off your feet on that date. As stupid as Jimin can be, he has his own charms and he bewitches you under the stars and moonlight.

But by then, it’s not like it really matters. 

You’ve been living with the guy. Sleeping together, in both meanings. And you argue a healthy amount. Just like a married couple.))

[rhysismydaddy]

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

______________________________________________

~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin. 

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had. 

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard. 

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian. 

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain. 

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting. 

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know. 

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying. 

“Konechno.” Of course. 

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again. 

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death. 

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman. 

My father is an arms-dealer. 

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy. 

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t. 

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty. 

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people. 

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly. 

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer. 

“Starik,” I tease. Old man. 

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York. 

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise. 

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase. 

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital. 

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait. 

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details. 

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé. 

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored. 

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him. 

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option. 

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room. 

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature. 

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more. 

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest. 

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name. 

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now. 

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected. 

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello. 

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield. 

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello. 

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction. 

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave. 

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck. 

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys. 

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official. 

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual. 

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it. 

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

Tags: @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @masstrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[windmaedchen-fairytail]

Power Lust

It’s been a couple of weeks since Ivan’s experiment. Makarov hadn’t left him alone about this business, so in the end he had budged and admitted the use of the rare lacrima. What he failed to understand was the drama his father made out of it. Laxus was clearly fine and Ivan was there to help him adjust to the new found power. One could have thought that his efforts and time spend to nurture his son would be met with enthusiasm, however, in reality, Makarov was barely tolerating it.

Not that Ivan really expected anything else by now, as tolerating him was one of his father’s specialities. He shifted his weight and leaned against the frame of the open door. He was watching from afar as Laxus did some extra training, trying to conjure lightning and making it hit the dummy.

“KACHOW! KACHOW! Hahahahaha!”

Laxus shouted out loud above the noise of thunder every time his lightning struck. He danced when he hit his target and groaned when he did not. He wouldn’t sulk for long, however, as the joy of finally becoming a wizard like his Dad and Grandfather gave him the strength to continue.

The passion in Laxus’s movements and voice brought a smile to Ivan’s lips. His son had accepted the lacrima much better than he had anticipated and all he needed now was guidance to bring forth all that he is capable of.

When Ivan heard the faint steps behind him, his smile disappeared from his face. He turned around to see Makarov stand next to him, watching out into the garden. For a moment, there was silence between the two men but then the older Dreyar began the conversation he came to have.

“He is so motivated to learn and become stronger. He is doing that for you. Does that make you happy?”

“I am certainly pleased to see this, yes. The result is better than I had hoped for and Laxus might actually become a useful asset.”, replied Ivan calmly. When he heard Makarov grunt in disapproval, he looked over. Was that not what he had just asked for?

“That wasn’t quite what I was thinking of.”, sighed Makarov. “Result? Useful asset? Can’t you ever stop talking about people like they are tools and appreciate them for their souls?”

“At least I DO appreciate the fact that they ARE tools and I will utilize Laxus to the best of his potential. It will give him a real purpose beyond just being my son - or your grandson.”

“Tools and experiments, is that all you really care for? Did you not feel any love for Laxus the way he was? Was he not good enough?”

Now it was time for Ivan to grunt in disapproval. How could that weak boy be good enough? He was constantly sick, couldn’t do any magic yet and still needed a nanny nearly 24/7. Was this not exactly what he needed, to become stronger, more powerful and gain independence from all the guild’s mother hens around him?

Another thought crossed Ivan’s mind, as he turned to answer his father.

“If challenging your son and training him to become better and stronger than the Status Quo of yesterday is, in your eyes, a lack of love - I dare say I love my son as much as you did yours.”

“Ivan! What are you--”

Makarov stopped mid-sentence and turned to face his son. While Ivan returned the gaze, his eyes were clouded and shielded the view into his soul from Makarov’s penetrating stare.

Laxus’s voice drew their attention before the conversation could continue.

“Whoohoo! More! More! Kachow—OUCH!”

The blonde boy jumped in circles for a moment, shaking his arm frantically. The lacrima had been implanted into a host body much weaker than its inert magic level. This meant that while being used so clumsily, overflowing magic will escape in an uncontrolled manner, causing some harm to the encompassing tissues. A minor problem that will go away with training. In fact, Laxus himself seemed hardly fazed by it, as he started laughing during his little dance of pain.

“Laxus! Remember what I told you about visualizing your attack first. If you go too fast, you’ll loose control!”

Ivan reprimanded him from afar. His son lifted his arm to the sky as if to say “All good!” and then turned around to get payback on the training dummy.

Makarov pointed at Laxus and reproached Ivan with it.

“This is hurting him! You WILL stop this.”

Ivan ignored the warning and chuckled quietly do himself.

“Come now, we all have had our accidents as we were training. I don’t remember letting that hold you back from encouraging me to continue. Isn’t this exactly as you like it?

“This is different, Ivan. There is a line to everything and this-”, Makarov pointed at Laxus, “-is crossing it. You KNOW that to be the case. Implanting that lacrima into his weak body could have killed him in the spot if you had made even the slightest mistake. It STILL could kill him now, if you excerpt him too much.”

With a wave of the hand and a groan Ivan dismissed the issue.

“Yes, yes. Stop complaining. Life is a risk. Look at him! He is making the best out of himself, overcoming his weakness. He would never have had any of that strength without me.”

“LOOK! DAD! GRAMPS!”

Laxus pointed excitedly at a charcoaled area on the dummy that glimmered a bright red around some sharp edges of the wood. His lightning had burned it. His family responded in unison, one in approval, one in dismay.

This wasn’t what Makarov hoped for.

“I know very well that as a father you wish to see your offspring become strong and self-sufficient. It is our responsibility to support them in that endeavour, too. But this is a shortcut that will harm him, Ivan. Why don’t you see that?”

“Oh quit it, old man. You have not the faintest idea nor do you care about my work and all you have ever done is impose sanctions and recite love poems to me. It has, frankly, long been useless to lecture me.”

Ivan’s tone changed. Where he showed patience before he exchanged it now for bitterness. He was too old to be lectured on anything any more, especially as he thought the lecturer to be a hypocrite on that matter.

Makarov lowered his head and resigned in agreement. 

“Indeed. Forgive me for having let you down at a time when I still had the chance to reach you. Now, all I can do is prevent damage to others…”

“Tsk. Do you even have the guts-”

“Yes.” Makarov interrupted his son decidedly. “I watched you and your schemes for long enough and I should have done this much sooner. Listen well for I am saying this only once.”

Makarov underlined the weight of his words with an unwavering, direct look into his son’s dark eyes.

“Ivan, CEASE your training this instant. Do not take your responsibility for your son’s well-being lightly…  if this continues in any shape or form, you will have no place to return to. Neither guild nor family.”

It was Ivan who looked away, focusing his gaze on Laxus. He couldn’t imagine Makarov to pull through with his threat. His father’s love for him made him weak and he always skirted around serious punishment before. So why would he do it now?

============================================

Ivan had seen enough. Laxus was still not ready yet and there was no point in watching his son any longer for today. He got up from the tree trunk and sighed heavily.

“It’s been a couple of days and you still haven’t destroyed that dummy. When you said you had chipped it, I thought we’d see you perform the final blow today… looks like I was mistaken. Time for me to get back to work.”

With alarm Laxus’s eyes darted over to the moving figure. He had sweat pouring down his body and bend forwards a bit to rest his hands on his knees. The dummy in front of him had nothing but a few new scratches.

“No, Dad, wait!”, gasped the young boy desperately. “I just need… ONE more try… and then I can go with you.”

“Hmm? I really can’t waste any more time here, Laxus. You are still too weak.”

Ivan graced his son with a look of disapproval, then turned and walked away, ignoring Laxus’s further pleas. He heard moans from behind him and thought for a moment that Laxus had started to cry again, so he focused on his own mind to distract himself. He had imagined that the intense desire to be strong and at his side would accelerate Laxus’s development, particularly since they had to meet in secret like this. Instead, despite the initial incredible pace, Laxus slowed down again. Is it possible that the cap Makarov is trying to put on the boy dampered the effectiveness of their training? He should try and send Laxus along some jobs with the others to encourage him to--

“AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”

Ivan’s thoughts were harshly interrupted by an intense scream coming from behind him. He turned around instantly and looked back to the small clearing where Laxus had been standing a moment ago. Now he was down on the floor, jerking in visible pain. The continuous groans of agony drew him back very quickly. What on earth had happened? Was a stray, uncontrolled discharge of the lacrima able to bring Laxus down like this?

Lightning still sparked forth from the writhering boy and forced Ivan to approach with caution. He noticed the red blood on Laxus’s face, hands and hair and searched his pockets for something to cover the wound with. As he found nothing, his hands untied the knot of his cravat and folded it down to a smaller, double layered cloth.

Ivan knelt down besides Laxus and reached out to touch him by the shoulder but he withdrew his hand instantly. “Argh!” An electric spark shot through his body as he made direct contact with Laxus’s bare skin. Ivan gritted his teeth and tried to push Laxus onto his back once more anyway. This time the magical electricity was tolerable. The boy’s groans turned into weak sobs and his body grew limb as the effects of the sudden discharge ebbed down.

Ivan now gently lifted the protective hand covering Laxus’s face. He held the cloth ready but the moment he saw what was underneath, Ivan knew this was going to be some permanent damage. And a certain someone would NOT like this.

“Damn.”

======================= END PART 2

[wanderinginksplot]

Nobody Listens to Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Case 01245: Commander Bly

"Hold still, vod," Kix reminded gently. "The scanner can't get an accurate reading if you keep moving."

"Yes, sir," Commander Bly agreed, obediently fighting to keep still.

Kix refrained from reminding the commander that he in fact outranked Kix - and by quite a large margin. Bly was struggling enough as it was. He had been standing far too close to an explosive blast, and the burns covering the left side of his face and body were clear. The fire had melted large sections of his plastoid armor, adding to the damage.

Continuing to wear what remained of the armor had to be uncomfortable, but Kix had to complete a full scan before he could allow the commander to remove the outer layer. There was a possibility that some of Bly's skin had melted to the inside of the plastoid and he simply didn't feel it due to shock.

Finally, the scanner beeped to tell Kix that it had completed a full scan with no motion interference. Bly was lucky; there was no connection between his skin and the rest of his armor. Kix quickly informed the commander of this and they both worked to remove the plastoid from his singed body glove.

When Bly was free, his hand moved as though he planned on exploring the damage done to the left half of his face, but Kix stopped him with an extended hand and sharp shake of his head. "You won't want to do that, commander. Burns hurt worse than anything. You're in shock right now, but it won't last forever. The sooner you start feeling it, the more painful the treatment will be."

"I understand, Kix," Bly agreed softly, dropping his hand immediately.

"Let me do one final scan, then I'll start mixing a bacta spray," Kix told him, readying the scanner once more. "If we're lucky, we can get your treatment well underway by the time the pain really kicks in."

"Don't you mean 'Kix in'?" Bly asked, quirking a brow. Unfortunately, it was his left eyebrow and he hissed slightly at the new and painful sensation.

"I hope that was worth it, Commander," Kix told him dryly.

"It wasn't my best joke, but hey, laugh or cry, right?" Bly shrugged - carefully using his right shoulder this time. He fell silent again, watching Kix configure the scanner. "Can I ask why you need to do another scan?"

Kix eyed Bly for a moment, but saw no signs of impatience or mockery on the commander's face. "Scanners can work through plastoid, but the signal gets significantly weaker. That's fine if you're checking for surface-level injuries, but if you want to look deeper, you need to get under the armor. Now that we've removed the plastoid from this equation, this scan will show the full extent of the burns."

He began scanning as he finished his explanation, but the medbay door whipped open before the short process had ended. "Commander, how are you?"

Kix was tempted to turn so he could see the new arrival to the medbay with his own eyes, but the accented voice made Bly's spine straighten and his blood pressure ratchet up a few levels, so the medic knew who it was. General Secura had that effect on many a trooper.

Still, Kix always took care of his vode, so Kix silenced the scanner's alarm before it could play an audible arrhythmia warning. It was no business of the general's if her arrival had made Bly's heart literally skip a beat.

"I'm fine, General," Bly answered his commanding officer, voice steady.

It was an impressive show. Bly's feelings for his beautiful general were the worst-kept secret in the GAR… which was saying something. Still, his eyes were clear and his face serene, even as Kix watched his heart rate increase. As if he heard Kix's silent admiration, Bly's gaze slid to the scanner still held in Kix's hand and the medic hurriedly put it away. He had the information he needed, anyway.

Kix cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the general and the commander. "The burns don't appear to be deep. Commander Bly was lucky that he had his face turned away from the blast." He turned to address Bly directly. "The plastoid of your armor protected your body from the worst of the burns, but there will be some scarring on your neck and left hand."

Bly shrugged at that, but General Secura looked unhappy. "Is there nothing you can do to heal him completely? I could arrange transport to a medstation. Maybe some time spent in a bacta tank…"

Fighting not to furrow his eyebrows, Kix shook his head. "Not necessary, General. I'll make a bacta spray to help the healing process, apply some burn gel to pull the heat away, and administer some pain meds for the discomfort. Commander Bly will be all healed up in a few weeks."

As he went to assemble the components for a bacta spray, Kix smirked to himself. A kriffing bacta tank? Troopers went in bacta tanks for missing limbs, shattered skulls, comas… Putting the commander in one for a few mild burns would be insane. Kix’s motions slowed as he heard the quiet conversation taking place behind him.

"I have no skill for Force-healing," General Secura admitted, sounding unreasonably guilty about that fact.

"What are a few more scars?" Bly answered flippantly but his voice grew more serious as he added. "General, I don't care what I look like. What matters is that I can fight for the Republic. The best way to do that is to keep you safe."

Secura seemed to let out a sigh. "You were hurt protecting me- Protecting the Republic's interests, that is. I do not like knowing that you'll be scarred as a thanks for your efforts."

"I would gladly carry a few more marks if it means that you're alive, General," Bly said, tone genuine. Kix winced, thinking that he was cutting it a bit close to admitting having non-regulation feelings for a commanding officer. Bly seemed to feel the same, however, since he added, "Besides, scars will just make my tattoos stand out even more."

"Ah, how could I forget the importance of your tattoos?" the general teased. "No one should go without seeing them."

"Well, we'll try to minimize the scarring anyway," Kix told them both as he came back with the freshly-mixed bacta spray. He talked Bly through the process as he gently cleaned the burns, applied the bacta spray, and misted the burn gel from a special aerosol dispenser. He passed Bly some of the medbay’s strongest pain meds. Kix could tell that the pain was finally beginning to reach the commander and wanted to stop it as soon as possible now that the treatment was working.

"Now, I don't want you reaching around yourself to apply the spray," Kix said, finishing his explanation. "You wouldn't be able to get the right angle and distance, and it would stretch the burned skin more than we want. Take the spray and the dispenser with you and I'll transmit the instructions to the 327th's medic. Limit is still your main medic, right?"

"Yes, he is, but I would like a copy of those instructions as well, Kix," General Secura told him and turned to speak directly to Bly. Taking the hint, Kix moved a few steps away to give them a semblance of privacy - even if he could still see both medbay occupants and hear their conversation clearly. "If Limit is ever busy, comm me and I'll apply the treatments myself."

Bly shifted in the chair. "General, you've got more important things-"

"Hush, Bly," the general told him, lifting a hand to brush her fingertips over the tattoo on Bly's uninjured cheek. "There is nothing more important than supporting my men, especially the commander who kept me from being blown up today."

Obviously fighting a blush, Bly gave a single sharp nod.

Kix cleared his throat. "Feel free to make your way back to the Liberty when you feel able, Bly. General."

The two left the medbay, walking closer together than Kix thought was wise, considering the commander's injuries. When the room was silent once more, Kix pulled out a new patient treatment form and stared at it for a long moment.

Everyone in the GAR knew that Commander Bly had a weakness for his Twi'lek general. It was far from uncommon; the level of attention that Aayla Secura attracted from her appearance, strength, and grace made most of the 327th uncomfortable and ready to fight on a regular basis. However, none of the intel Kix had heard - and he had heard a lot, considering how chatty most brothers were - had suggested that the general felt similarly about her commander. Jedi weren't supposed to be attached, after all.

And yet…

Kix's mind played back the sight of General Secura brushing a delicate hand over Bly's cheek, putting the moment in an infinite loop. Even if she didn't harbor un-Jedi-like feelings for Commander Bly, there was certainly enough room for doubt that Kix could sympathize about how Bly may have gotten confused.

But General Secura had wanted to put Bly in a bacta tank. For mild, superficial burns, no less. And the warmth in her voice when she had volunteered to personally help with Bly's treatment…

Kix shook his head, feeling more confused than he had been since his first day of flash training. However, if there was one constant in his life, it was that paperwork needed to be filed. Kix turned his attention back to the medical form in front of him, checking the 'General Present' box and moving on to his other duties.

[suburbanbeatnik]

The short and very miserable life of Napoleon II, aka the Eaglet, aka Franz, Duke of Reichstadt: PART THREE

So there’s a lot of controversy over the exact nature of Franz and Sophie’s friendship. At the time, it was was rumored they became lovers. Satirical prints of the two were even published. But I’ve browsed a few recent-ish books about the Habsburgs, and they don’t seem to think the idea of a Franz/Sophie affair holds a lot of water. However, Aubry thinks it’s possible— even probable.

He took refuge in his tenderness for his young aunt, Sophie. She was still the woman whom he preferred. Perhaps she was his only love, the one to whom he owed his first embrace and the one who best satisfied him. She had been at first nothing but an elder sister. In his empty boyhood she had given him the only warmth of friendship he had known. Become a man he had asked for more, and Sophie consented, it is said.

They saw each other everyday at the Hofburg, in the little salon belonging to the Archduchess. It was always towards evening when he was tired from his work or his horseback rides and she relaxed from duties of the court. Oftentimes they would be alone, and they would take their tea by lamplight, reading aloud or talking over the happenings of the day. Reichstadt gave Sophie his full confidence. She knew his anxieties and his bitternesses and she gave him back his courage. She would place her fingers on his forehead, and stoke his hair, which shone like silk in the dim light. He would look back at her with quiet happiness, and she would smile back at him as she sat there in a low-cut gown, the coils of her hair caught up in a veil of white lace, and around her throat a ribbon of black velvet with a pendant, which was a miniature of her father, King Maximilian of Bavaria. [Aubry pg 215]

Aubry paints a compelling picture of Sophie’s restless, clear-eyed youth, intelligence, strong will, and free, simple, natural ways, which stood out like a star against the stultifying pomposity of the Habsburg court. Not surprisingly, she hated her husband, a coarse blockhead mainly obsessed with hunting. She spent every hour she could with Franz, driving in the Prater, breakfasting together, or walking in the garden, often accompanied by Sophie’s son Franz Joseph (Sissi’s future husband). Like his father, Franz loved children and was great with them. Add his intelligence, passion, and incredible good looks, I would not blame Sophie one bit if she’d had an affair with Franz.

Aubry also points out that at Schoenbrunn, Franz’s quarters were directly above Sophie’s, and connected through “a little staircase unknown to any chamberlain.” They also spent many afternoons completely alone.

They would venture through the Tyrolian garden to the limits of the vast wooded park and on out into that smiling countryside where vineclad hills gently rise above meadows, patches of woods and cultivated fields. There they spent the most beautiful hours in their lives, talking less of the future and of glory, we may be sure, than of the present and of love. No definite information as to these meetings have survived. All that is known from authentic documents is that they were frequent in the summer of 1831. Nor is there any trace, either, in spite of careful searches, of a correspondence between Reichstadt and Sophie. The Archduchess died at an advanced age, after a checkered career. She must have taken care to leave nothing behind her. The archives of the Hofburg show only the mother, and the princess interested in questions of State. [Aubry pg 217]

Aubry then considers the contention that Sophie’s son Maximilian was actually fathered by Franz. Aubry thinks it’s at least possible, but I don’t think it is. Just look at pictures of the guy— he’s 100% Habsburg. He looks exactly like Franz Karl. The Bonaparte seed is strong; if Napoleon was Maximilian’s grandfather, you’d be able to see it somewhere. But you can’t.

Anyway, after the golden summer of 1831— probably the second happiest period of Franz’s life, after his childhood—it was all downhill from there. Very, very downhill.  

Franz’s lung issues came back with a vengeance. It didn’t help his main doctor at this point was a foppish Italian obsessed with liver ailments— he thought all of Franz’s problems stemmed from— what else?— the liver. That winter Franz became major of an infantry regiment stationed in Vienna, and distinguished himself drilling his men to perfection. Which is kind of sad, really; but that’s all he was allowed to do, be a parade-ground soldier who never got his uniform dirty. He ate little, and slept less, so eager to show that he could be a real soldier, like his father. His health plummeted, and he contracted a catarrhal fever.  The Imperial family gathered around Franz— except for Marie Louise, who was too busy back with her little court at Parma, “nibbling bonbons at the Opera.” Of course she protested her “cruel anxiety” about Franz’s welfare, but she wasn’t about to go anywhere. After all, she couldn’t think of endangering her own “precious health” journeying to Vienna.

Reichstadt must have felt the desertion keenly, but he voiced no bitterness. He had grown accustomed to suffering in silence, and those who forgot him, he tried to forget. [Aubry pg. 224.]

So, once again, Marie Louise disappointed her son. But Franz had Sophie; and he also had Prokesch back, who had happily returned after Metternich forced him to go to Bologna (Metternich didn’t trust Prokesch, and did his best to keep the two friends apart). The two men now knew the full stranglehold that Metternich had on the monarchy. Franz would not even be able to take a single trip away, not even for his health. It was do or die.

The two concocted a plan, and it was a decent one. Once he’d recovered, at winter in Vienna, he would be able to slip away from the secret police, as he had when romancing Naudine Karolyi. “He and Prokesch would reach Styria or the Tyrol in disguise and from there, taking advantage of connections which the major would try to establish in a preliminary reconnoissance, they would reach the Papal States where the Duke would ask asylum of the Pope.” Letizia Bonaparte and Lucien, who lived there comfortably, the Pope deferring to them, had money and connections. “Sheltered by the head of the Church and his grandmother, on a soil not only neutral but sacred, he would be free to complete his novitiate for the throne. Prokesch foresaw that it would be not a very long one. He predicted the fall of Louis-Phillippe in two or three years at most, and after a period of anarchy, the return of Napoleon II by agreement between France and the Powers.” [Aubry pg 232]

Alas! Metternich caught wind of the scheme, and banished Prokesch to Rome in January of 1832. What a blow this was! But the major agreed he could use the circumstances to do the agreed reconnoissance and meet in secret with Madame Mère. The two men parted with great emotion.

But this is the last time they would ever see each other. By the next summer, Franz would be dead.

* * *

After the departure of one of his only friends in the world, depression overwhelmed Franz again. It didn’t help when he received a letter from Napoleon’s last valet, Marchand, who had been trying for years to contact Franz about a few items of “sentimental value” that Napoleon had left for his son. But there was a note from Metternich on the letter, that briskly said “no attention could be paid to Marchand’s request.”

And that was it. Franz knew had no recourse. He wouldn’t even be able to get his father’s coffee service. How petty, how disgusting, how mean Metternich was! Napoleon had been dead for over a decade; why couldn’t he have one single sentimental item left to him in his will? Was it that important? That much of a matter of importance to the State, to the bloody Holy Alliance, that he couldn’t hold the same coffee cup that his father held?

And bitterness ate away at him. He was only 21, but he felt so old. He hated humanity. He hated himself. He wondered why he was still alive. Perhaps he would have been better off if he had died as a child. He had expected so much of the future— but there was nothing but the coldness and emptiness of an eternal prison.  

Despair ate at him like a worm. And he grew sick. And sicker. He coughed and sweated and grew weaker by the day. His doctor’s liver medicines did nothing, and then bleeding did less, and Metternich kept refusing to see Franz moved to a warmer climate.

The Chancellor was pleased by the turn of events, of course.  “He sent world to all the embassies, and Marshal Maison was asked to inform his government, that ‘the condition of the Duke of Reichstadt was so serious that his mother has been informed.’” [Aubry pg 244]

A pregnant Sophie, at last returned from her tour of Hungary, did her best to nurse him. “She sat down at his bedside and hushed him whenever he tried to speak. She would read aloud to him and it was she thereafter who gave him his medicines and guarded his door from any importunate intrusion.” [Aubry pg 245]

Franz still worsened. The Emperor was not present; he was detained in Trieste, and when he returned to Austria, he avoided Vienna, staying at the summer castle of Persenbeug, along with the “ninny” Ferdinand and the blockhead Franz Karl, while Francis’s wife claimed that seeing his dying grandson would have a deleterious effect on his health. Count Dietrichstein also decided to leave, on the excuse of his daughter’s confinement. Aubry says:

He must have known that Reichstadt was lost. Could he just have been an indifferent soul underneath his courtesy and his outward expressions of affectionate anxiety? He may have been. Count Maurice Dietrichstein was born a sensitive man and an artist, but life at Court had dried him up, undoubtedly leaving him in the end with the heart of a chamberlain. He forgot his former pupil at his daughter’s bedside and allowed him to die without a word of friendship. [Aubry pg 250]

For Franz, it was a slow, agonizing death march, punctuated by an an abcess in his lungs rupturing— and a final communion taken with Sophie at his side, in what Aubry compares to a “mystic marriage.” Louise arrived at last, after dithering over her departure, claiming “slight indispositions” as a reason for not leaving sooner, and then coming to Vienna via “easy stages” over the course of a fortnight. Of course, when she saw how badly off her son was, emaciated and hacking up blood, she began to cry.

There with that spectre of the hollow eyes before her she may perhaps have understood at last the true identity of that youth whom she had neglected for two years, and how guilty she had been all along toward him. She alone could have protected her child against Metternich’s policy and against himself. She could have saved him from those years of moral anguish and that tragic solitude which had ruined his health sooner and even more than any disease. That in her weakness she had lost him a throne might be excused, but however cowardly as an Empress, she might have shown herself a good mother. Vienna was her true place but she had preferred Parma with its ease, deserting the son of the greatest man in her age to sate her voluptuousness in the arms of her lover, nibble bonbons and preside over well-served dinners. [Aubry pgs 252-252]

Of course, Metternich made sure to look in on Franz while he was dying.

Through a half-open door however the Chancellor was allowed to see the patient in his bed. He gazed for a moment, then turned and walked away without a tremor, without a word of sympathy for the mother and doubtless without any remorse. [Aubry pg 255]

Franz knew he would die. “Must I end so young,” he said, “A life that is useless and without a name? Ma naissance et ma mort, voilà toute mon histoire. Entre mon berceau et ma tombe, il y a un grand zéro.” He did not quite say that on his deathbed, but it was close. Very, very close.

It took monumental efforts to keep Franz alive at this point. He was a barely breathing corpse. He could not swallow food; his throat had swollen up; his coughing seem to tear his body apart; and he could barely sup barley-water and milk. He had even been given mother’s milk at one point. His legs were swollen, and he was cold as ice. Deprived of his dearest friend Prokesch, who was meeting with Letizia and Lucien in Rome, his fellow captains in his regiment stood by his bedside.

The end came on the morning of July 21st— a thunderstorm brewed in the air, the air damp and thick and charged. He cried out— “death! I want nothing but death!” — and then— “Harness the horses! I must go to meet my father! I must embrace him once more!”

Then he whispered: “How I am suffering! When will this sad existence end?” [Aubry pg 260]

At last, he called, gasping, sweating, for his mother. (Sophie, still recovering from childbirth, was left to sleep, something which she never forgot.) Louise was brought in at the last minute, and managed to faint dead away in the middle of the room, completely prostrate on the floor. I’m imagining the priest having to step over her for his last rites, but apparently she managed to get to her knees by the bed just in time for Franz to look at her. That, one instant, and then he stopped breathing altogether.

Franz’s grandfather, back in Persenbeug, away from any inconveniently dead grandsons, called Franz’s death a possible blessing for Europe.  

As for Sophie, once the news was broken “delicately” to her…

…she lost consciousness for several hours and the attack was followed by a high fever. Her milk dried up. For several days her life was despaired of. She gradually recovered. Those who knew her thereafter no longer found the gay and simple Archduchess. All the gentleness seemed to have left her. There was a sting in everything she said. The truth was that her youth had died with Reichstadt. She was to have intrigues, love affairs, ambitions, cares of State. But she had changed in spirit, or rather she had attained in a few days the mood of her maturity, with, in her heart’s depth, a regret and a bitterness which would endure until her death, five years after the disaster of her son Maximilian. [Aubry pg 265]

* * *

And so ends my recap of Aubry’s King of Rome. Ugh, this could have been more depressing!? Anyway, I’ll write an epilogue soon explaining what happened to everyone after Franz’s death.  

Part One

Part Two 

[haikyuexe]

Friends with benefits

Pairing: Ushijima x reader

Genre: smut, fwb

Word count: 1,537

Summary: Just a regular night with Ushijima no strings attached

Warnings: creampie, anal play, penetration pure filth

It was so weird how you two met each other or how this set up happened but it did. For Shiratorizawa’s Ace, a serious and talented guy to be caught up in a friends with benefits system was hard to believe meanwhile you a regular student that studies all the time non stop even forgetting to sleep sometimes needed someone to help relieve the pain of stress.

You were looking for someone to help you out with your needs and the only person you could think about was Tendou, a horny bastard who is a freak in the sheets.

Knowing Tendou he would probably help you out with your problem but he would want something back, his requests would be out of the world and hard to obtain but hopefully it’s something easy to get. Unfortunately Tendou was unavailable making you groan in defeat. He was your only hope. It made you seem desperate but you really needed it so bad, the ache between you legs couldn’t be ignored as much as you tried. That’s how you bumped into Ushijima, he too was having stress problems but it was hard to notice, his limbs were aching and he wanted to be touched and it was the first time he felt these emotions luckily he met you.

Finally the knock which you waited for hours to happen finally happened which excited you so much. Opening the door making sure it was him, yup it was him.

“Y/n” “Ushijima” a simple greeting letting him in the room, sitting on your bed wide open which made you thirst for him more than ever.

“How was your game?” You ask sliding onto his lap, sliding one hand in his shirt to rub his well defined chest and the other hand playing with his hair just the way he likes it.

“We won but they did put up a good fight” He mumbles enjoying your movements. “As I expected from the ace” you smirk planting gentle kisses on to his sensitive neck to his jaw.

“But for now let’s forget about our worries...yea?” Finally you planted your lips on his, grinding onto his hard on that was already forming. Tongues tangled trying to fight for dominance which he won easily.

It started to get heated already, steam started to form already, teasingly pulling his lower lip as you move away from him. “I don’t think we need our clothes anymore” you winked, pulling his shirt over his head throwing it behind you, slowly sliding down to your knees pulling his shorts off only leaving his boxers on.

Kissing his hard on through his boxers made him hiss instantly pulling your hair a bit.

“No teasing tonight” “aww no fun” you pouted only to lean up again giving him a quick peak before getting to business.

Pulling his hard cock out of his boxers which keeps amazing you every time, how big he was, he was thick too which made it even better, licking you lips staring right at him which made his Adam’s apple bob in excitement.

Spitting some spit down his cock combining with his precum made your pussy even wetter, watching it slid down his sack, was a sight to pay for.

“I’ll hurry up then” you jerk him off watching every little expression he made trying to keep his eyes wide open made you even more excited than before.

Taking his tip into your mouth letting your tongue attack his slit trying to suck all his precum off, moaning into the mixture enjoying his manly taste made him buck his hip sliding his cock further into your mouth.

Grunting as he pulled you hair fucking your mouth, meanwhile your hands started to fondle his balls. His grunts made you weaker making you slack your jaws bit letting him use you anyway he wanted to.

Sliding your other hand into your panties using two fingers you slip it into your hole, getting off at his grunts.

For him it was a masterpiece, the way your spit was pooling slipping out of your mouth, your eyes all teary which made it even better.

Hollowing you cheeks once you felt his cock twitch knowing he’s close, quickly pulling your mouth off of him.

“Naughty Toshi” you tease jerking him off, “I want you to come somewhere else tonight” quickly standing up trying not wobble as much, you took off you clothes teasing him a bit as you took off your panties and bra off.

Pushing him onto your bed as you slowly crawl on top of his wet delicious cock that you yearned for.

“Youre so good this” he grunts out watching you grind yourself on his sticky wet cock. Teasing him a bit but for you it felt like heaven.

“Just watch baby” you moan out as you felt his head hit your clit every time.

It was so hot and erotic, he couldn’t tear his eyes away for a second, could feel himself ready to come. Holding your hips guiding you, “you know what would make it even better?” He asks “what?” You moan out trying to pursue your high.

Before you know you were in front of his feet still on top of him, letting a quick hiss from him as he admired both holes of your holes in display.

“Grind yourself on me baby” he watches you tease his cock with your slit as you slid yourself up and down. It was so erotic but he was living for it, groping your ass with both hands even spreading them.

“God Toshi never knew you were so dirty” you moan out holding onto your bare boob, “I’ll show you dirty” moving his thumb in your backside which was wet ready to penetrate “Toshi my ass!” You gasp to the feeling of his thumb sliding into your muscle.

“Keep going baby!” With his other hand he smacked your cheek making it sting, bolting pleasure into your entrence which was clenching onto nothing

Arching your back feeling him move his thumb around, “You like that don’t you? You dirty slut” his words made everything better, you could feel the tip of his cock touching your entrance, “I want you in me baby” you begged, you wanted to be pounded into, so hard that you wouldn’t function right.

You could feel yourself drooling as he kept spanking you as he stretched your ass with his thumb. “Did I tell you to stop moving?” He hisses giving you another spank. You could feel his handprint linger as it burned deliciously.

“Baby I want you to come in me, I want you to paint my insides with your seeds” you moan trying to get his tip into your entrance.

This was switch for him, leaning up as he pushes your head onto your mattress, spreading your legs wide open for him. “I hope you won’t regret it” before you knew it he was already on top of you pushing his twitching cock into your pussy.

He started to thrust into you in a fast pase, you were already a mess, you were all wet, from drool and sweat. Your eyes were already rolling to the back to you head as he drills you.

He was fucking you senselessly just the way you like it, it even made it better when he sticked his two fingers in your ass scissoring you out. “Toshi!” You screamed out trying to stop being too loud which was impossible.

Pulling his fingers out, making clench even more.

“You like being my slut don’t you princess?” Pulling your hair back as he pulls you up onto your knees as he fucks you.

“So much baby” you moan leaning your head back against his shoulder as your arms wrapped around his neck as he fucked you from behind.

“Im comin I’m comin I’m comin” you kept repeating into his mouth as he tried to silence you up as he sucks on your tongue.

You felt a bolt of heat, you started to see stars already. “Wakatoshi!” You moaned out as he held you down as you started to shake from your high, he didn’t even stop, kept going fucking you through your high trying to chase his. You started to wiggle your ass helping him out a bit “Shit” he gasps groping your boobs tightly as he came in you.

Finally he lets you go falling on to your bed as his cum slowly leaked out.

Your hair was sticking on to your forehead from sweat, trying to calm yourself down as both of you panted, he was still on top of you admiring you glistening pussy.

Once he calmed down, he attacked your neck leaving hot trail of kisses down your spine.

“Toshi again?” “When did I even say I was finished?” You could feel him smirking as he kisses you cheeks spreading them widely.

“I wanted to try something else with you” sticking his tip in your ass.

It was going to be a long night for both of you well for you mostly.