#but I am clawing my way along the ground until my nails bleed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 3 months ago

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RUN, don't walk to go read this fic!! I don't even know where to begin, but I do know I want to sing Sunnie's praises from the top of a building. This fic actually changed my brain chemistry. Every paragraph was immaculate, from the smut to Jason and the readers' relationship. All I needed to hear was Vampire!Jason and Sunnie and I knew it was going to be a masterpiece. I talk about my favorite parts below the cut!

Jason Todd is on you the second you walk through the door, pharmacy bag dropping from your hands in surprise. The door’s barely shut behind you before he’s crowding you up against it, cold night air still lingering on your skin, his nose buried in your neck. His lips part along your collarbone and you roll your eyes at the pinprick of fangs already descending from his gums. “I smell blood,” he rumbles. “Are you hurt?”

SUNNIE!! You are on FIRE!! I am locked in!!!! Him immediately crowding your space? Checking if you're hurt?? I SWOONED.

Jason’s already waiting for you by the time you hobble into the kitchen, slow and regrettably human. Under your breath you curse his unnatural speed but he hears you anyway and grins.

I am eating this up!! Just little things like this showing us he's not quite normal is such good storytelling. I know he can get cocky af over it, and I can literally see the sly smirk on his face!

“Please, baby? ‘M starving over here,” Jason pouts. He’s suddenly behind you, arms around your midriff. He lets out a huff of air right over your jugular, goosebumps rising across your skin. Usually, that would be enough to have you caving, knees weak and and panties wet, begging for his bite.

No notes. They are so me. I would absolutely fold, no pout necessary.

“Talia’s out of town and you know nothin’ tastes anywhere near as good as you do,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You want to scream at his perfect dumb face with its stupid puppy eyes.

Nothing tastes as good as they do!!?? AHHH!! I also want to scream at him, but also I am a puddle of feelings on the floor.

“Well if you’re already bleeding. I don’t hafta bite you.” He smirks at you like he’s solved all of your problems. Slowly, your face starts to heat up as you put together what he’s implying.

The way I GASPED. Jason Todd, the man that you are. Someone sedate me because I will not and can not be normal about this.

I'm insane about a Jason that's always in your space. It feels so true to character, and I don't know how to explain it.

Jason’s got you undressed and flat on your back on the bed in under 15 seconds in what has to be a new personal record.

FERAL. I'm clawing at the walls, banging my fists against the ground. He knows exactly what he's doing, and I am WEAK.

Somewhere in the trip between the kitchen and the bedroom Jason had lost his shirt and you’re reminded again of just how badly he can make your mouth water, staring at the broad expanse of muscle covered in a thin layer of fat.

I am fr fanning myself like a scandalized lady, but also, I'm looking sooo disrespectfully.

Jason smooths a broad palm along the side of your ribcage until it settles on the plush curve of your hip. Slowly, he starts to kiss at your jaw and throat, purposefully avoiding the lush temptation of your carotid.

Eeeee!! YOUR WORDS ARE THE WORDS OF ALL TIME!! It's so visual, and I want to sink my nails into them.

Your hips struggle to move but the coiled strength in his palms traps you right where he wants you. He’s enjoying this, you can tell from the way he’s playing you like a finely tuned instrument.

My jaw dropped. Actual perfection in a paragraph. I'm eating the whole vampire thing up and leaving no scraps.

Trying to arch up into him, Jason slams your hips back down onto the mattress, the heating pad sliding somewhere off to the side of your hip. “C’mon baby, gotta stay still so I can finish my dinner,” he purrs, not even bothering to look up from the blood drooling between your legs.

SUNNIE!!!! Did you know you were writing liquid gold here??? I can not tell you many times I reread this part specially, just wow.

Your thighs start to shake when he curls a second finger into you, scissors his fingers wide to make it easier to drink you down. Spreads you open and fucks back in as deep as his hand will go.

The smut is smutting, and I am devouring every line.

He grins, predatory again, and oh you should have seen this coming. Something about wetting his throat with blood always has Jason desperate to get his dick wet too.

I'm shaking!! fr I'm a mess over this, and I loove the little glimpses into their relationship outside the fic! I know they're both insatiable for each other.

I need to scream into a pillow immediately

WOW. WOW. WOW. Yes????? I am feeling things, and no one is allowed to look at me until I recover.

Jason licks your combined spend off his finger and sighs with satisfaction. Starts to rub the warm mixture of blood, cum and slick into the skin over your womb in idle patterns. “You know, you tasted good before, but I think I like you best when you taste like me.”

Insane. Actually insane here. Just like the lazy marking over their skin?? Specifically over their womb after he just finished inside them? Primal. Stellar ending, and I am a completely different person now and will be spending the next 3-4 weeks thinking about your Vampire!Jason.

week 3 (oct. 18) | period sex

✮⋆˙bon appétit (2.2k)

jason's a vampire, you're on your period, and, well a man's gotta eat

tags: f!reader, vamp jason, established relationship, period sex, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, blood drinking, blood as lube, slight size kink, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: for @luvrodite my darling, this would not exist without your encouragement

⊘ this is an 18+ fic. minors do not interact, you will be blocked

“I smell blood,” he rumbles. “Are you hurt?”

With a sigh you dig your now empty hand into the thick mess of his hair and pull him off of your throat. His pupils have already started to narrow into slits, catlike.

“No, and if you’d stop thinking with your fangs for a hot second you’d realize it’s because of my period.” Reaching down for the bag you’d just let go of, you gasp as another cramp spikes through your lower belly and claws up your back. “Right, you can get the bag because you made me drop it. I’m going to find my heat pack in the kitchen.”

Jason’s already waiting for you by the time you hobble into the kitchen, slow and regrettably human. Under your breath you curse his unnatural speed but he hears you anyway and grins. He’s already put your heat pack in the microwave so there’s nothing to do but gratefully take the painkillers he’s fished out of the bag for you and wait. His stomach grumbles.

“Nope,” you declare. “Not happening tonight. I’m losing enough blood as it is, you aren’t getting your hands on any more.”

“Go get some synth blood from you maker or something. Isn’t she always offering to hook you up with a supply? I’m off the menu tonight, so put those–” you tap at his upper lip, right over where his fangs have descended “–away.”

The microwave beeps, giving you an excuse to slip from his grasp. You moan at the warmth as you shove it down the front of your clothing, the heat already making the cramps reside a little.

“Jason. I’ve got a waterfall of blood in my underwear – which is stained by the way because none of the PATH toilets had any pads in any of their dispensers – my back hurts, my stomach hurts, my boobs are pain central, and my ankles are sore for some ungodly reason. I’m not adding “mauled by a hungry vampire” to the list of reasons why I’m destroying my liver with painkillers.”

You know you’re probably being bitchier about it than you normally would be to turn him down, but you’ve just had the day from hell. First your period had started on your morning commute to work. Then the pad you had been counting on to be in your purse hadn’t been there, a casualty of Tamara two desks over last week. There’d only been a single pill left in the bottle of painkillers you kept at your desk, and you’d been so run off your feet with work that you hadn’t had a chance to run out for more. You’re tired and sore, absolutely ready to face plant into bed.

“I don’t gotta bite, you know,” Jason says slowly.

“What,” you retort flatly, already done with this conversation.

“You don’t– what. You wanna...” you splutter, unable to string the thought together.

“C’mon sweetheart,” he prowls towards you, predatory glint in his eye “let me put my mouth to good use. I promise I won’t bite.” He’s got you backed against the countertop, balancing on your tip toes. The faux marble is firm beneath your scrabbling fingertips as you let out a squeak. He traces the apple of your cheek with a deceptively gentle finger. “Besides, you always feel so nice and relaxed after you come. Might make those cramps better.”

Cotton mouthed, you swallow down your desire but you can tell from the lopsided grin that Jason can already smell it on you.

“Ye-ah, okay.” You nod and bite your lip. “But if you make my cramps worse, I reserve the right to knee you in the head.”

Jason’s got you undressed and flat on your back on the bed in under 15 seconds in what has to be a new personal record. He’d even managed to put a towel down and reposition the heating pack right over your womb between breaths. Somewhere in the trip between the kitchen and the bedroom Jason had lost his shirt and you’re reminded again of just how badly he can make your mouth water, staring at the broad expanse of muscle covered in a thin layer of fat. He looks down at your bare, bleeding cunt and you swear you see a hint of something cold and predatory tinge his desire.

You reach out to him feeling oddly vulnerable, the rabbit kicking in the jaws of the wolf. He smiles at you, and despite the narrowed slit of his pupils you feel the warmth leech back into the room. Gently, he lowers himself down to cover your body with his. Kisses and laps at your open mouth, careful not to nick you with his fangs. Jason smooths a broad palm along the side of your ribcage until it settles on the plush curve of your hip. Slowly, he starts to kiss at your jaw and throat, purposefully avoiding the lush temptation of your carotid.

When Jason takes your aching breast into the wet heat of his mouth for the first time that night, you gasp and arch your back. Your hips strain with nowhere to go against the rock solid weight of his body. He’s gentler than he usually is, keeps his promise not to bite by laving at the bud of your nipple with the flat of his tongue. Kisses and sucks at the aching flesh until you are mewling from oversensitivity, now wet with more than just blood. He barely reacts to you clawing at his back, nails leaving raw red lines that heal over in an instant.

“Too much too muchtoomuchtoomuch,” you babble, body leaden with a different type of ache.

He pulls off your breast with an audible pop, a thin line of spit connecting his lips to the wet mess he’s made of your tits. Jason smiles as he peppers kisses down your belly, still careful not to jostle the heat pack from it’s place. He licks and kisses at each thigh before placing them onto his shoulders, sucking hard enough to leave bruises in your wake. You start to roll your eyes at him for his obsession with getting as close to your blood as possible when the scrape of teeth across the thin skin has you trying to strangle him with your thighs.

“No biting,” you gasp out, the curve of your spine pushing your breasts into the air.

“No biting,” he says, humouring you.

Jason hands close around your hips and drags you down to meet him. He licks a broad stripe right across your dripping cunt, obliterating any indignant thoughts in your head. Sucks a kiss to your clit that has you grabbing for his hair, desperate to keep his face right there. Your hips struggle to move but the coiled strength in his palms traps you right where he wants you. He’s enjoying this, you can tell from the way he’s playing you like a finely tuned instrument. Alternates long slow licks with taps and flicks of his tongue just to watch you dissolving into a whining and desperate creature.

You’re wet, so wet you can feel it dripping down to the cleft of your ass. Jason slurps – slurps! – up the mixture of your blood and arousal, traces it straight back to the source until he’s sucking right over your entrance. The tip of his tongue traces your cunt before plunging in and you moan, body tensing up at the intrusion. Trying to arch up into him, Jason slams your hips back down onto the mattress, the heating pad sliding somewhere off to the side of your hip.

“C’mon baby, gotta stay still so I can finish my dinner,” he purrs, not even bothering to look up from the blood drooling between your legs.

Arousal and embarrassment flare through you, lighting you up and burning through your cheeks as he goes back to eating you out. The spread of his fangs pinning your hole wide open as he thrusts the slick muscle of his tongue back into you. Uses it to curl into you wickedly until you moan high and reedy in your throat, aching for more. A thick finger prods at your entrance, alternates thrusting in with his tongue, forcing you to clench down around the intrusion. You can do nothing but lay there and take it, as he fucks you on his fingers and tongue. There’s no escape from him and his questing mouth, pinned down as you are.

Your thighs start to shake when he curls a second finger into you, scissors his fingers wide to make it easier to drink you down. Spreads you open and fucks back in as deep as his hand will go. Hooks those fingers into the soft spongy part of your gut that has you seeing stars and pushes as he sucks on your clit again.

“Right there, Jay,” you whine, fighting for breath as your tummy screws up tight. “Please.”

Jason keeps hitting that spot with his fingers with unerring accuracy, hammering away as he laves over your clit. It’s the barest hint of teeth dragging across it that sends you burning over the edge, vision whiting out at the corners when you come. Chest heaving as you try to breath through it, body turning to jelly, your cramps are long forgotten in the flood of endorphins.

Jason grins from between your thighs, chin red with your blood and sticky with your slick. Leans over to show you the mess you’ve made of his hand, the sticky strings that still cling, connecting it to your twitching cunt. He keeps his eyes locked with yours as he licks it all up, moans at the taste of you and ruts his dick into the bed.

“You taste so good, honey–" you whine at the praise “–just had to have a little taste. And I was good wasn’t I, didn’t even bite to get it, so I think I deserve a little dessert too.”

You nod too fucked out and relaxed to move, body nearly one with the bed as your aching muscles melt. He grins, predatory again, and oh you should have seen this coming. Something about wetting his throat with blood always has Jason desperate to get his dick wet too.

Jason slowly feeds his cock into you, smile still stained red. Moves one of your legs to hook around his waist while he carefully keeps the other one pinned over his shoulder as he folds you in two. He’s big. He’s always big but in this position you can feel every inch of him, can practically taste your hips giving way as he makes space for himself inside of you. Jason sets a pace that has you shaking under him, eyes wide as he steals the air from your lungs with each deep thrust. Filthy, wet squelching noises stream from your cunt as he fucks it sloppy, driven feral by the scent of blood in the air.

He coos at your wide eyes and slack-jawed expression as you clench tighter and tighter around him. Bends his head to mouth at your neglected breasts and smear them bloody. Jason minds his teeth as he laps and suckles at your tits in a crude approximation of what he just did to your clit. All the while his thrusts speed up, jolt you up the bed as he starts to jackhammer. You wail as he comes inside of you, hot spurts of cum painting your quivering walls. Jason works a hand between you and all it takes is the slightest pressure to set off the chain reaction in you again.

Smug, Jason rolls off to lie beside you, head propped on his hand to watch you gasp and twitch like a gutted fish. He reaches down between your thighs and runs a finger through the mess there, causes you to shiver. Jason licks your combined spend off his finger and sighs with satisfaction. Starts to rub the warm mixture of blood, cum and slick into the skin over your womb in idle patterns.

“You know, you tasted good before, but I think I like you best when you taste like me.”

#rae's fic recs #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #vampire!jason

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beels-burger-babe · 4 years ago

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A Pain You'll Soon Regret - Pt. 1

***This...This is glorious. Oh ho, I will most definitely give you this fic @millenniumofpain! I will do so gladly! Thanks for sending in this great request!***

Poly!MC Summary: MC and the demon lords get in a fight resulting in MC leaving. They planned on going to Purgatory Hall until things cool off, but they never quite make it there. TW: Heavy Angst, Violence, I don't know what to tag this, but there is a pretty nasty verbal fight, Gore/Injury Part Two: HERE, Part Three: HERE, Part Four: HERE

You growled to yourself, angrily wiping tears from your face, as you marched away from the House of Lamentation, away from your partners.

Well, you said marching. It was more of a stumble what with the way your intoxicated brain could barely walk forward. You wished you could say you didn't know how things got like this, but the evidence had been there all along. It was in the slow build of tensions that increased and increased until they overflowed. It was in the way everyone would bite their tongues more and more frequently rather than communicating their thoughts.

Everyone had little things about the relationship between the eight of you that bothered them, and no one said a word until the words could no longer be held back.

It all started after you came back from clubbing way past curfew with Asmodeus.

The two of you were definitely drunk and were giggling messes as you did your best to hold the other up.

You both jumped when the hallway light turned on to reveal Lucifer and the others waiting there for you.

You bit back a sob as you thought of the vicious words that came out of their mouths.

"You're so reckless! Do you know what could've happened to a human like you this late at night in this state?! For Diavolo's sake MC, I expected this behaviour from Asmodeus, but I expected more from you!" Lucifer shouted Asmodeus groaned and leaned against you. "We were just having some fun. It's my date night. Don't get your wings in a twist." Beelzebub glared at him. "Just because it's your date night with MC doesn't excuse you putting them in danger. You couldn't even defend yourself right now, forget about defending them!" You frowned and stepped forward. "Guys relax. Nothing happened." Mammon scoffed, "That's always how it is with you! You think that just because nothin' has happened to ya that it's fine. You ain't invincible MC. Gah, it's like you're just throwin' ya self into dangerous situations just to get us to come to save ya again!" Satan raised an eyebrow at Mammon's comments and crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe that's what they want. Attention. Is that the real reason why you keep being so reckless?" he tsks and scowls at you, "If you wanted attention MC you could've asked one of your seven boyfriends." You looked at them all with wide eyes. "Wha- I do NOT do all of this for attention!" Levi snarled, "Then why do you do it? Huh? Why else would you get drunk in one of the most notorious clubs in the Devildom? Why else would you date all seven of the Lords of the Devildom?" You stepped back as though you had been slapped by Levi's words. You glanced around at the others, but no one rose to your defence. You met Belphie's gaze hoping, that maybe as the only one to have not spoken up, that he'd be on your side. He just snickered and gave you a perplexed look. "What? Don't expect me to step in. You got yourself in this mess." You stood shocked and hurt; almost unwilling to believe that your partners, the people who you thought loved you unconditionally, verbally attacked you. Anger bubbled and boiled inside of you until you couldn't contain it anymore. "If you guys have such a problem with it, then maybe I won't depend on you anymore! I'm reckless, yeah, I admit, but I never did it for attention and I certainly never put myself in danger just so you all could play the hero," you turned your anger to Leviathan, "And in case you forgot, you all agreed to date me! I thought it was because you all loved me as much as I loved you but apparently fucking not! So if you don't mind, I'm going to leave now like the attention-driven child that you all think I am!"

Not your classiest moment, but you didn't care. It was clear you weren't wanted at the time, and you were too tired to handle the brutal words that they were throwing at you. So you left. Which brought you here, stumbling your way towards Purgatory Hall, drunk, and sobbing as you shivered from the cold Devildom air. You could just see the shape of the Hall ahead of you when you suddenly tripped and found yourself tumbling to the ground. You winced as you felt your knees and hands scrape against the ground. You groaned and turned yourself over to inspect the injuries. "Just when the night couldn't get any worse," "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" You stiffened as three demons came out of the woods around you and began circling you like vultures about to swoop in on their prey. The tallest one snickered. "Looks like the Lords' little pet strayed too far from its masters. Lucky us~"

A shorter, rounder one smiled sharply as drool trickled from its mouth. "Their loss, our gain," it leaned forward and inhaled deeply before sighing in pleasure. "Oh, get a whiff of that fear~ Just, delicious! Do you think it's true when they say that human tears really do add seasoning to its meat?" You tried to scramble away from it, as your heart pounded in your chest, but yelped as your back bumped against a curvier one. Its long nails dug into your shoulders as it secured its hands near your neck. "Only one way to find out." You were in trouble. These demons clearly had no intention of letting you go. You needed to get out of there before it was too late. You jammed the heel of your palms against the back of the wrists of the demon that holding you down, while you leaned backwards away from it. You were able to get just enough slack to roll away from the demon before jumping back to your feet. You were still surrounded, but at least now you weren't defenceless on the ground. Progress.

You did your best snarl, one that you and Mammon had jokingly practiced together one day, and glared fiercely at them. "Do you have any idea who you're messing with? I could have you all killed with just a snap of my fingers. You have one chance to run away, or I promise you that no one will ever be able to find your sorry corpses."

The tall one laughed and smirked at you. "And what exactly are you going to do? Scratch us with your blunt little nails? Bite us with your flat teeth?" The round one perked and began to hop excitedly. "Oh! Oh! Maybe they'll summon the lords to do it for them! Such a pathetic thing doesn't stand a chance on its own."

The curvy one wore a sickening grin as it leaned down mockingly at you. "So, you gonna call your guard dogs or what?"

You froze. You couldn't summon the brothers. Technically, you could, but not at this moment. Not after that fight. They had basically screamed at you about how they were tired of you getting yourself into situations exactly like this and then come crying to them for help. And what did you do? Take off and prove them right. They didn't want to be your heroes. They didn't want you.

You were on your own in this, and there was no way you could fight and win. Without a second thought, you turned towards Purgatory Hall and ran. The laughter of the demons rang behind menacingly. You barely got five steps away before a set of claws slashed deep into your ankle. You screamed out as you collapsed roughly to the ground, making your forehead against the dirt road.

You twisted onto your side to see the round demon drooling over your heavily bleeding leg with a nearly psychotic expression. "I love it when they try to run." That was the only warning you got before it sunk its razor-sharp teeth into your calf. You wailed loudly in pain as you used your other foot to try and kick the demon off of you, but it wasn't so willing to let go of its meal. The tall one grabbed your arm, bending you foreword as it roughly folded it behind your back. You cried out as you felt your shoulder pop out of its socket and nausea swirl in your stomach. "Not so tough now, are you?" It purred in your ear as it licked the tears off of your cheeks. You choked on your sobs as it roughly bit into the flesh on your collar, and weakly struggled in its grasp. "Let go of me! H-Help! Somebody! Help me!"

The curvy one finally approached you, burying its fingers into your hair before harshly yanking your head towards it. You screamed before it slapped its clawed hand across your face. Bile threatened to rise out of your throat as you felt your own blood drip down your cheek.

Spots began to blur your vision as the demon leered down at you with its menacing eyes. You felt your stomach drop as a realization hit you. This was how you would die.

You whimpered as you thought of the brothers, and how you never got to even kiss them or tell them goodbye one final time. Hell, you didn't even get to see them smile at you. Instead, you were reminded that you could never be what they needed you to be.

You would die scared, in pain, and unloved.

The curvy demon laughed as it wrapped its hands around your throat. You struggled to breathe and whined as, for just a moment, you saw Belphegore choking you to death once more, and not this monster. You morbidly thought that it was only fitting for you to be killed the same way twice. The demon leaned closer to you, demanding that you meet its un-naturally yellow eyes as it smiled. "You realize it now don't you? That this is your death bed? That no one is coming for the pathetic little human. I bet no one would even-" Before it could finish its sentence a blindingly bright beam burst across the side of its face sending it flying across the ground. You could hear the other demon curse and began to take off as two voices shouted and more bright flashes were sent in their direction. As your vision began to fade, you saw tear-filled, innocent blue eyes look down at you and a small mouth framed by chubby cheeks try to speak. But it was too late. With a final whine, you felt your eyes roll to the back of your skull and your mind plummet into darkness. ***This request is just evil and I love it. There will be a part two. So stay tuned for more pain. Hope you enjoyed it @millenniumofpain! Thank you for allowing me to write this!!***

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moonlit-jeno · 5 years ago

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hate sex + jeno

There’s probably going to be a dent in the wall with how hard Jeno slams you against it, his hands planted on either side of your head to keep you caged in. You let out a breathless giggle, grabbing him by his shirt collar and dragging his mouth to yours.

It’s not gentle. Nothing about you and Jeno has ever been gentle. It’s always been backhanded remarks and hurtful taunts that led to Jaemin and Renjun having to separate the two of you before things escalated.

Jaemin and Renjun aren’t here now.

There’s no one to pull the two of you apart before your mouths bruise from the kiss, and there’s no one to stop you from biting Jeno’s lip so hard that it bleeds. You hum at the metallic taste, at the head rush that comes from Jeno growling. He pulls back and grabs at your thighs, grip so tight that there will probably be bruises. You can only hope.

He throws you onto the bed and you try to ignore the swooping feeling that comes with being manhandled. Your panties are wet and sticking to your folds at this point but you ignore it, you have to. You can’t be the first one to give in.

“I fucking hate you.” Jeno groans, yanking his shirt off over his head before crawling over you.

“Are you sure about that?” His cock is hard against your hip and you don’t waste the opportunity to drop your hand down to where he’s straining against his pants, squeezing harshly just to watch the way his body jerks. “Because I don’t think you do.”

Jeno looks at you with dark eyes. You can see his internal struggle as he decides whether to fuck into your grip or not, but it doesn’t take him long to rip your hand off of him and pin it to the mattress above your head.

“Hey, don’t worry, I’ll tell you a secret.” You whisper, shoving him back so that you can tug your shirt off. You pull him back to you with a firm hand on the back of his neck, fingers tangled in his hair with a grip tight enough that it makes his cock throb. He lets you bring your lips up to his ear, lets you bite down harshly at the sweet spot right under his jaw. “I fucking hate you too.”

That does it. Jeno slams you flat against the bed, tugging your jeans and panties off in one go. You drop your hand to rub at your clit, sighing at the wetness, and Jeno groans at the sight as he frees his cock.

It’s not gentle, how he pushes into you. It’s rough and raw and a little desperate. You don’t help that at all, fueling the fire with taunts and off handed remarks that just make him angrier.

“I shouldn’t even let you come.” Jeno growls. It’s not threatening, though, not with the way he continues to fuck into you. He hits deep and hard, brushing against your sweet spot perfectly.

You can’t resist a taunt. “Are you saying that now to save your ass later?” His hips stutter when you squeeze your walls around him and his head rolls back on his shoulders. “You know you can’t make me come so you’re just gonna say it was on purpose, hmm?”

The way his tongue pokes out from between his lips, the way his jaw clenches, tells you your goading is working.

“You’re such a fucking bitch.” Jeno pulls his hand back and slaps you across the cheek. Surprise etches across his face at the keen you let out, your back arching off the mattress. “Yeah? You fucking like that?” He does it again.

“I love it.” You pant out, words barely intelligible around the thumb he shoves in your mouth. You suck around the digit, looking up at him through lidded eyes. His chest rumbles with the moan he lets out. “Love it a lot more than I like you.”

Jeno can’t possibly get any more aggressive but he certainly tries. His hips slam into yours with a bruising force, the pace he sets almost inhuman. And it feels so good, feels so fucking good, but you can’t let him know that.

Or, you at least don’t want him to know that. He can probably tell how good you’re feeling by the way your back arches off the bed, the way your legs squeeze around his waist. His hair falls into his face and you push it out of his face, running your hand through the strands before using your grip to yank him forward. A choked moan leaves him and he falls forward a little, planting his hands on the mattress next to your head. He glares down at you. You smile back sweetly.

“You might be the one on top, but that doesn’t mean I can’t give it as good as I get it.” You pant out, digging your nails into his back and relishing in the hiss of pain he lets out.

Jeno doesn’t grace you with a verbal response. No, his response is in the way he pounds into you, his cock dragging deliciously against your walls. You squirm underneath him as your orgasm fights it’s way to the surface, burning hot under your skin.

Your entire body locks up when you come, legs locking around his waist to pull him close, nails clawing up his back. Jeno hisses at the pain, at the tight squeeze on his cock, but it isn’t enough to make him come. He pounds you through your orgasm, not bothering to change the pace or slow down to let you recover.

That would be too generous, you suppose. Your relationship is based on insults and hatred, not exactly grounds for lovemaking. Still, that doesn’t stop your abused walls from clamping down on him, incoherent noises leaving you as you try to get him to stop.

“I thought you could take it.” Jeno snarls, grabbing one of your legs and bending it up towards your chest.

“I can.” You manage to grit out between strained moans and whiny breaths.

Jeno huffs a laugh, but it’s humorless. “Then take it.”

“I fucking am.” He bends your other leg up, using his grip on your thighs as leverage. The position has your muscles straining from the stretch, the angle getting that much tighter. Not that that’s what you needed- he already felt like he was splitting you in half. Now it’s only amplified.

“Take it better.” Jeno hisses. “Stop being such a whiny bitch and take my cock like the whore you are.”

His words shouldn’t make you feel as hot as they do. He’s breaking you down piece by piece and you worry if you’ll even be able to look at him by the end of this. You already know for sure that you won’t be able to walk.

Jeno props one of your ankles up on his shoulder and drops his hand to your clit, rubbing harsh circles into the nub that have your orgasm roaring to the surface. Your body seizes up.

“Fuck, no, I can’t.” You try to twist away from him but it’s no use. Pleasure has you mindless, reacting only on gut impulses.

Jeno doesn’t seem to care. “Take it.” Is the only thing he says, continuing to move with the same roughness as he forces your orgasm to the surface.

The second orgasm hits you too soon. There was no recovery time after the first one, no time to build it up. It hits you so suddenly that it’s almost painful, the pleasure crashing over you with no way out. Your eyes roll shut as it drowns you, bright lights flashing in the darkness.

Your head is spinning and you’re overwhelmed with the dizzying pleasure coursing through you. Jeno pulls out and your core clenches in a confusing state of relief and horrible emptiness. Your legs flop to the mattress and you curl into yourself, still panting heavily.

“We’re not done yet.” Jeno snaps, manhandling you onto all fours and swiftly slamming his cock into you. You scream and your limbs give out, all the sensations overwhelming you.

He shoves your face into the mattress like he’s expecting a smart remark, but that’s assuming you’re not fucked completely dumb. You’ve got nothing left to give except for moans that sound like they’re straight out of a porno and a few curses that lack much variety between them. You turn your head to the side and sob.

“Gonna come again?” Jeno taunts. You try to push yourself up to your hands and Jeno growls, the force of his thrusts increasing until your arms give out again, chest hitting the mattress. He smacks your ass. “Fucking answer me.”

“Yes!” You moan out, the sound muffled by the pillows, the taste of cotton filling your mouth. “Fuck, yes, ‘m gonna come.”

His hips stop moving, cock stilling inside of you. A few tears slip down your cheeks. “Oh? But I thought my cock was useless.” Jeno feigns confusion as if he hadn’t just fucked you within an inch of your life. You groan.

“I’m going to fucking kill- hah, shit- you.” Your threat lacks any force, your sentence breaking when he pinches your clit.

Another slap lands on your ass and you keen, rutting back against him on instinct. “There we go, baby. You wanna come, you gotta do it yourself.”

You throw out every curse you can think of as you fuck yourself back onto his cock. Your muscles are screaming even more than you are, and yet you can’t quite get the speed you need, can’t get the force that Jeno can deliver.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s waiting for. Jeno wants you to beg, wants you to stroke his ego enough that it makes up for all the insults you’ve thrown at him. Your core screams at you to do it, mouth open to deliver the sweet talk that’ll get your back blown out. And yet, your pride prevents that from happening.

Like you even have any pride left, after this. Jeno’s already seen you cry, already seen you moan for it like a bitch in heat. It can’t get any more demeaning than this, working yourself up on his cock while he sits on his knees, doing nothing.

Jeno pinches your clit again and you break, body curling in on itself as you sob. “Please, please, I can’t.” You beg, fisting your hands in the sheets to get over the embarrassment of begging. “Please just fuck me.”

“Oh?” He sound amused and you hate that you know the exact expression that goes along with his voice. “So you’re admitting you can’t do it yourself.”

“I’m not admitting shit.” You get defensive even though he’s technically right.

“Oh baby, I think you are. Come on, just admit that you’re nothing but a dumb little cockslut and I’ll let you come.” His words send your entire body aflame, not in anger, but in arousal. Your core squeezes around him as if to feel him better, to help satisfy the need to get completely fucked.

Your clit buzzes painfully and you drop a hand to rub at it, only to have Jeno pin your hand in place. You sob. “Jeno, please. I need it.”

He lets go of your hand to stroke your hair, gentle touches contrasting the nature of the entire evening. You let your eyelids drop, lean into his touch a little. A gasp is forced out of your throat when he twists the strands around his fingers and yanks, pulling you up so that you back is flush with his chest. His lips go to your ear and the proximity has you feeling his growl in the depths of your soul. “Fucking say it.”

“I need you to fuck me.” You cry out, whatever shreds of dignity you had left go flying out the window. “Please, Jeno, I need you to fuck me.”

His lips quirk up against your neck. “And what are you?”

You hate that he’s going to make you say it. Your eyes squeeze shut. “I’m nothing but a- your- cockslut.”

There’s not enough time to process anything between your words and Jeno shoving you back into the mattress, pounding into your fluidly. You cry out in relief, the orgasm that had started to fade away being stroked back to life.

The intensity of it has your eyes rolling and you arch into it, letting Jeno take what he wants from your body. The pleasure seems to build and build, sinking into your gut until it takes hold completely. You scream when it hits you, taking over every part of your body until the only thing useful left is your mouth, crying out curses and pleas and Jeno, Jeno, Jeno.

It must be what he was waiting for. You cry out his name and he barely manages to muffle his curses before he’s coming, spilling into your pussy. It leaves you feeling hot and sticky between the thighs but you find that you like it, sighing contentedly as you let the aftershocks roll through you.

Some of Jeno’s come spills out and you whimper at the feeling, squeezing your thighs shut. A large palm pried them open and then there are fingers at your entrance, pushing his come back into your pussy. You gasp.

“Fuck, Jeno, I can’t.” You squirm, trying desperately to stop him but lacking the strength. “It’s too much, it hurts-” He raises his eyebrows at you and presses his thumb against your clit, laughing at how your body jolts.

He fingers you to a lazy climax, one that has you gripping onto whatever you can reach, sucking and biting marks into Jeno’s shoulder to ground yourself. It sucks all the energy out of you, leaves your limbs feeling heavy and your head spinning uncontrollably. Your eyes only stay open long enough to watch Jeno stuck his fingers clean, a soft moan rumbling in his throat.

“What are you doing?” You manage to ask as he lays down next to you, wrapping his limbs around you. He presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

“After sex cuddles.” Jeno yawns, pulling the blankets over your bodies. “We were able to tolerate each other long enough to fuck, I think we can manage to cuddle.”

You try to kick him but end up barely nudging his calf with your foot. “You’re so fucking weird, you know that?” “You’re insults are getting weak, y/n. Go to sleep.”

#jeno smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #lee jeno smut #kpop smut

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cassanovancats · 3 years ago

Text

felicitate. nine.

eight < current > ten

Dec. 24, 2017

You make yourself comfortable on the rooftop, debating if you should go ahead and text your brother. He would be almost as disappointed as you were; Satoru had taken to calling himself the captain of your ship with Yuta and Toge, even coming up with a nickname that incorporated shortened versions of all three names. You sigh, deciding it’s probably best to not text him. He’s likely already worried about leaving you in charge, no need to add a worry about something that isn’t deadly.

A sudden yell disrupts your thoughts and you jump into position, nocking an arrow and aiming towards the scream. You hitch your breath at the sight: Geto is striding into your school alone, leaving a trail of headless assistants behind him. One of the bodies is familiar and you recognize her as the assistant that gave you chocolate with a bright smile after a mission with unfortunate timing left you covered in curse blood and your own. She didn't flinch or offer pity - just a single chocolate kiss. Now she is covered in gore and blood, her previously pristine white shirt coated with her own brain matter.

You feel your resolve hardens. Geto is a curse-user, a human at his core, but he also is a monster. The arrow flies an accurate course but the man dodges, leaving it to embed itself into the wall instead of his torso. He turns to your rooftop, calling out, “Ah, (y/n)! And here I thought your brother would lock you in a tower.” Geto unleashes a grade-one curse that looks similar to a wolf and sends it after you. He is infuriatingly unbothered by your presence and continues his steady gait into the school grounds.

You start running across the rooftops, jumping over gaps and dodging the curse’s attempts to bite you. The rooftop tiles bite into your hands and knees. It faintly registers that a nail broke when you almost missed a jump, narrowly avoiding falling to the ground.

Satoru didn’t say how long to keep this secret, but you assume now is a good time to give Maki and Yuta a heads-up. You spot Maki stepping away from a classroom, so you run there, drawing the curse after you. On the roof next to where she stands, you plant your feet and turn, suddenly drawing your katana and slicing at the wolf. It draws back, avoiding your attack before lunging suddenly. Its claws sink into your leg. You cry out in pain, falling to your knees. When the curse lunges again, this time aiming for your throat, you fall on your back and thrust your blade into its stomach. You force the blade down its body with a grunt, disemboweling the creature. The teeth around your throat loosen, but the dead weight of the curse dropping on you prevents you from getting up immediately. Guts slide out and onto you and you suppress a gag. You feel a lot like Carrie on prom night.

When you finally stagger to your feet, you see Maki has engaged Geto in a fight that she’s obviously losing. You cry her name and rush to her side. She doesn’t get a chance to acknowledge you as Geto, in one fluid moment, breaks her weapon and sends her flying. She falls to the ground as a ragdoll, bleeding heavily from her side and head. You watch her body land, horrified, before you’re snapped back into the fight rudely.

Geto is now the closest to you he’s been since you were a child, frightened and unable to communicate with the people around you. He feels some long-forgotten sense of pity as he slides the blade of his knife further into your stomach. “W-wh-?” You look at the handle sticking out of your body curiously, blood starting to leak from the corner of your mouth. The pain hasn’t begun to register but your body understands that you are unable to fight. You faint, missing the entrance of Panda and Toge by a few precious seconds.

When Yuta comes out from the classroom, he isn’t sure what he’s expecting to find. He felt a few earthquakes and thought it best to find you and Maki to wait out any aftershocks together. Yuta was sure it was to be a little awkward after his rejection, but also wanted to be sure you were okay. He didn’t expect to find you covered in blood, the same cute gym clothing you were wearing that morning when he rejected you ruined. A quick glance around and he sees the rest of his classmates, his friends, in similar form. Inumaki is clinging to consciousness.

Geto, the one who grabbed Yuta months earlier, stands surrounded by the bodies, hardly winded. “I truly wanted you to live, Okkotsu, but this is for the future of jujutsu.” Yuta wonders how he can fight this man. How can he protect his friends, the only ones to give him a chance since Rika, when Geto already destroyed the strongest people he knew. He was so, so weak compared to each of them.

Inumaki desperately calls a slurred version of his name and says, “Run away.” The fact that the command does nothing, that Yuta feels nothing, breaks him from his spiral. He summons Rika in a rage.

“I am going to kill you!” He declares. Yuta doesn’t think he has ever felt such anger and despair, the feeling of watching Rika die now multiplied by four.

Geto simply says, “You are going to die.”

A sudden pull on your stomach wakes you harshly. “Shit!” Your eyes snap open, to see a sheepish Panda holding the knife that was previously in your stomach. You automatically go to apply pressure on the wound but your hands find Maki’s already there, dressing the wound. “What happened?”

“The fight’s over, but we need to find Yuta,” Maki explains. “He must have healed all of us, but you still had the blade in you. It needed to be removed before you get up. All of us are going to be fine, (y/n), you can rest now.” She helps you to your feet and you cringe looking at your ruined outfit. Maki catches your pout and smiles, glad some things never change.

Toge comes to your side to take Maki’s place as your crutch. You hug him tightly, unable to express in words how relieved you are. He hugs back, equally overwhelmed after seeing what seemed like your corpse. Toge helps you limp along as you all start tracking Yuta’s residuals. Panda clears his throat and asks, “When did this happen?”

“Only a few days ago. Don’t act like you didn’t see this coming,” you explain with an eye-roll.

“No, I totally did. Just curious who won the bet.”

“If we didn’t just fight for our lives, I would kill you.” You four continue to try to have a light conversation until you come upon Yuta’s unconscious body. Toge helps you sit on the ground and you move his head onto your lap, muttering about checking for a concussion. All of you needed medical attention but you were desperate to help any way you could now.

Yuta begins to blink his eyes open and sits up urgently. “Your wounds… Panda! Your arm!” He seems to be working himself into a frenzy. You place a comforting hand on his shoulder as Panda explains that everyone will be okay. Yuta urgently looks over you, trying to determine how much blood was yours, before he seems satisfied.

“Thank you for saving us,” You whisper. His eyes fill with tears and you wonder how scared he must have been. You maintain eye contact, hoping to communicate how much you admire him, before Rika’s jumbled voice makes the both of you jump. Yuta stands, leaving the circle your class formed around him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Rika,” he says, approaching her.

“What’s wrong?” Maki asks, a little fearful at how resigned Yuta looks.

Yuta hums a little before answering, “In exchange for her power, I promised to go with her.”

“What?” You screech and the suddenness of the yell pains your wound. Your classmates join a chorus of disagreement. Panda and Inumaki both grab fistfuls of his shirt to prevent him from walking any closer to Rika. Instead of her usual retaliation for someone restraining Yuta, her form just falls away to reveal a young girl. Four of you are confused but Yuta just mumbles, “Rika?”

A clapping distracts from the drama. You turn as best you can with a hole in your stomach to see your brother without any eye wear approaching your group. “Congrats. You broke the curse,” he continues to clap and stands next to you.

“Who’re you?” Yuta and Maki ask, causing you to snort before you groan at the pain.

Your brother pouts before replying, “Everyone’s favorite good-looking Gojo-sensei. Do you not see the sibling resemblance?” He gestures between your face and his, before carefully putting you on his back. He doesn’t even flinch at the grime covering you transferring onto him as well, relieved to see you awake and alert. You rest your chin on his shoulder and listen to him explain.

“I thought Yuta was interesting, so I looked into his lineage. Apparently, you’re a descendant of Michizane Sugawara. So, super-distant, but we’re relatives!” You groan and hide your face in Satoru’s neck; the teasing to come will be unbearable.

Your classmates look dumbfounded at the information while Yuta just goes, “Who?”

“One of Japan’s big three vengeful spirits.”

“A big-shot sorcerer.”

“Tuna.”

“The annoying side of the family,” you add.

Your brother takes back control of the conversation. “Yuta, you’re right. Rika isn’t cursing you, you cursed her. When the curser severs the bond tying servant to master and the cursed doesn’t desire punishment, the curse is broken. Though it seems you figured that out by yourself.” He gestures at the little girl and Yuta.

“Oh my god,” Yuta collapses in tears. “It’s all my fault…. Hurting so many people, Geto coming after me, it’s all my - all my -” He begins to hyperventilate. Inumaki takes a step to comfort him, but before he can, Rika approaches and hugs his trembling form.

“Thank you, Yuta. For giving me time and letting me be by your side. I’ve been happier these past six years than I ever was alive. Good-bye, be well. And don’t come over too soon, ‘kay?” She gives a bright smile, toothy and pure as she dissolves into bright ashes. Yuta stares at where she stood, long after all the ashes disappeared and everyone else walked away.

“See you,” He says to himself, before getting up to follow his friends to Doctor Ieiri.

#felicitate #cass.writes #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #inumaki x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #inumaki x reader x yuta #female!reader #jjk spoilers #jjk volume 0 spoilers #please dont take knives out #they help keep blood in normally after getting stabbed

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plush-rabbit · 4 years ago

Text

A Ruined Otaku

Warnings: Dom, Degradation (light), Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.9K

A/N: i wanna make Levi cry (also just one oro for him!! I forgot to add the second:(()

Leviathan is many things. The third born. The Avatar of Envy. An angel turned demon. A Grand Admiral. He can summon an old creature, scales embedded with everything lost to the sea and kill with a simple squeeze of his hand. He’s something old and powerful, a minimalist body to hold the power and horror that resides. Leviathan, is an old demon, scales and teeth, thirsty for blood and poisonous to the mind, and yet, with all the power and title that he carries, he still lays beneath you, legs spread and cock oozing with semen, a gag shoved in his mouth- a simple makeshift of your underwear that was stained with arousal- soaked with his own drool as tears form in his eyes like dew that forms under the bright moon of Devildom. His hands are clawed into the cheap fabric of the small bed- a futon, if he was to be more specific- the fabric ripped and stuffing fluffing out of the sheet.

“You’re drooling,” you muse, the heels of your shoes clicking against the tile of his room. “You know how expensive those were, right?” He can only nod his head, feeling a thick sliver of drool slip down his chin. “Here I am, wasting money on you, getting all dolled up, and there you go. Drooling over my underwear like some fucking creep.” Your voice raises into a lilt at the end, a cruel smile stretching against your lips, your eyes narrowing as the fat of your cheeks push upwards. “Who’s going to get me a new outfit? Hm? Are you?” He remains silent, sniffling through the fabric, cock jerking, the spiraled head dotted with pearly white semen that drips down onto the bottom of his stomach, the scales that adorn him are coated in a slimy substance, glistening and heavy, lubricated due to his nature, aching and ready to be put to use. He can only nod his head at your question, he doesn’t do more than that, nodding until his purple hair is ruffled. You’re not stronger than him- you could never beat him in an actual fight, but he is at your mercy right now and with a slight work of spell, he can feel the pressure of your nails against his tight. “Answer me, Levi.”

His words are muffled against the cloth. He’s heard you say his name plenty of times, but each and every time, it still stirs something within him. “Yes,” he says, the word muffled, a harsh “sh” sound at the end of the word and he wants you to pierce his skin; he’d give you his strength just to feel blood prick at his skin, to feel you have all the power and to put him at your mercy. He thinks with a bit more practice, you should be able to leave him bruises in the shape of your hands. He salivates at the thought of feeling an actual sensation coming from you and not from some type of toy.

His stomach aches, his erection almost painful, skin tingling and running over his body with pricks. He can’t seem to find his breath. He tries to peer at you, so desperate to call you by name and ask you to touch him just once more, to give pity to him.

“And how are you going to do that? You waste every single grimm that you earn on figures and anything else you can get your hands on.” His legs are spread and he can feel your knee against the inside of his thigh. “So reckless and horrible. You’re a pathetic excuse for a demon.” His chest aches and his hands tighten around the sheets. “Worrying about standing in line, having me do all your dirty work just so you can jerk off to plastic.” He moans against the fabric when your hand wraps around his cock; you don’t cover him entirely but it’s more than enough for him to at least derive some pleasure. “Is that what gets you off? Fisting your cock over plastic, thinking about how the new waifu-” he can hear the distaste in your voice and he’s pleading in his mind for you to just hurry and jerk him off- “would bend over and ask you to fuck them.” Your laugh is harsh, piercing into his fragile self-esteem and he’s whining, a high-pitched and pathetic noise that makes you glower at him. “What do you think of when you jerk off over plastic?”

He refuses to answer. He’s a yucky otaku, something gross and perverted, a title given to him only because he had fallen along with his brothers. He is powerful but weak, cracking under pressure and having to beg for things. It’s already mortifying enough that you know of his perverted secret, humiliating, knowing that you’re using it against him in such a private and intimate moment. But he couldn’t help himself- he couldn’t ask you to help him, he was too nervous, shaking at the thought of telling you that he was aroused and none of the videos or hentai were doing it for him. It was his fault- he’s the one that bought the scantily clad figure, an ahegao expression printed onto it that was soon painted white.

The bed creaks, the metal groaning under the weight of both of you, the front of the bed knocking against the wall and his face burns. He knows that whatever happens will be echoed through the house, that he’ll be forced to endure even more teasing and having to go back to you and beg for you to take care of him.

Your hands dance on his abdomen, fluttering hands that graze his sides and rest where a rib cage would be, curving over his breasts and the heel of your palm nudges against his pebbled nipples. He is still, breath hitched in his throat and eyes fluttering to a close. It’s the softest touch he’ll get from you right now, something so comforting that it sends the muscle in his chest beating harsh against the skin of his body. He wants something harsher, he wants to feel you grip on him and never let go, to be gasping for breath simply because you gave him what he wanted. He’d lie on the ground and bleed for you, choke against his own blood, grovel at your feet and kiss the ground you walk on if it meant that you would touch him in the way he wanted to be touched.

Your hands are curved against his chest, the pads of your fingertips pressed into him and he stares at amazement above you. His cock, a spiraled tip with bumps and ridges, the shaft is a soft curve is a heavy, dark color. It’s hard, the scales that etch onto him below the head are rigid and bumped, the arousal and state of mind that he is in makes him lose focus. He’s spilling, drenched in his own arousal. You sit bare on his thighs. He can smell your sex, aroused and leaking. He’d give up an entire season of anime if it meant he could see how pretty your cunt looked.

“You’re a filthy, fucking whore, Levi.” With every inch that you sink onto his cock, he screams against your underwear. “A quick and easy fuck.” You’re so warm and soft, the puffiness of your walls enveloping in a sweet hug. “You should be lucky that even a human would want to touch you.” You spit the words out and his sobs against the cloth, jaw twitching and tear tearing through the fabric. Your hands grip at his face, turning him towards you and he looks at you with heavy eyes filled with tears. “Tell me your perverted fantasies, Leviathan.” The fabric spills from his mouth, dragging across his skin, leaving his lower half of the face in a thin layer of his own drool. You sneer at him and yank your hand away from his face, shaking it beside you as if to flick off any of his own secretion.

Where could he even start? He’s breathless, shaking in his position, trembling bones as he raises his arms and covers his face with clammy hands. He can feel your gaze on him, his face burning and chest heaving with every intake of air, pressing his heels into his face. His body reacts, knees bending, trying to curl up in a ball, meeting your ack instead and he can hear the soft puff of air.

He peeks between slender fingers, staring up at you and he can only lay and watch as you tilt your head. You raise your brows at him expectantly, and there’s a falling pit in his stomach. “I-” his voice cracks and his neck burns- “I think of you,” he says in a rushed voice. “I think of how good your mouth feels, how you always leave me pleased and completely drained.” He yelps when fingers twist at his nipple, the skin blooming in red and back arching, hands leaving his face to grasp at the bed. “I- I think of you- It’s always you. How you let such a poor excuse of a demon touch you.” His voice is steadily growing louder, choking through the words and staring up at you. “I’m gross and I’m touching you, a filthy, yucky otaku-” with each word his voice grows louder until it’s booming against the walls, the glass of his aquarium shaking, making the poor fish swim around anxiously- “who thinks of fucking you when I jerk off.”

He’s pitiful. Messy, purple hair that sticks to his forehead with sweat, orange eyes tinted with blue shine under tears that have yet to be shed, few tear streaks wet at his face, falling down to the pillow under him, the dark gray pillowcase darkens under him. Your hand cradles his face and for the first time in the night, his chest feels light, he can breathe, staring at your parted lips and wanting to kiss them. He purses his lips and jerks his head towards your, eyes closing slowly- just one kiss, something so simple and innocent that he wants.

He’s pulled back with a soft click of your tongue, your head shaking in a denial that you give him. “Tsk, tsk.” Your hand is still gentle and it’s intoxicating to have you touch him. His cock warms your insides, pulsing and aching, his entire control kept in check in order to not disobey and let himself ravage your weaker body. There’s a horrible thought in his head as you lay limp in his arms as he pushes inside your body, kissing at your wet lips and meeting the dazed look in your eyes. “Only good boys get to kiss me.” Your lips are so close to his and your free hand rests on the curve of his breast. “Are you a good boy, Levi?” The tip of your nose grazes at his and he’s never been so weak in his entire life, never so full of want and hunger to force himself to move so he can kiss your lips.

“No,” he breathes out. His tongue peeks out, the soft, pink tip lapping at his lips. “I’m horrible.” He thinks he’d kill for just a simple kiss. “Make me a good boy, please.” He calls your name, he dares to utter the breath of his love in such a hopeless voice, wanting to reach above with curling hands.

He gasps when your lips are pressed against his- slipping past, slick with something sour, tongue slipping past and entering his mouth. If it were any other day, he’d slip his tongue in your mouth and have you choke, but for now, he remains unable to, completely at your will. He’s certain now- he really would kill for just a simple kiss from you.

It’s shameful and he won’t live it down for the next odd years, but the kiss is enough to send him over the edge. He keeps his lips pressed to yours, bruising almost as he pushes himself against you, cock twitching and a soft rut of his hips as he spills his seed inside of you. It’s a thick, heavy flow, filling you and his hands are moving, flat against your back and curing against the back of your head, pushing you closer to him. His mouth opens and he whines, salivating as you let out a stifled moan. Filthy and wet, his slick sliding out of you, coating his cock with semen, the scales that line around him are lost under him.

He’s delirious, humping you, his face dazed and eyes rolled to the back of his head, a heavy blush across his face as you let him do all the work. While endurance was never his strongest suit, he absolutely loses himself over you, his thrusts becoming sloppier- a lewd, wet shucking sound fills the room, your breasts bouncing and it’s humiliating at how riled he becomes. He pants like a bitch in heat, and he can hear just how pathetic he sounds, croaking and gasping for breath.

You’re slick, your walls molded around him, the soft walls that envelop him in a warm hug, make him twitch. He’s whining, chest vibrating against yours, his stiff nipples pressed against your soft chest. Every pull of your body makes him murmur a slurred version of your name, mind hazy as he continues to rut inside of you, feeling the burning heat in his lower stomach return, aching and tightening, having him kick out his legs as his body starts to grow rigid and antsy.

“Such a whore, Levi.” Your lips brush against the shell of his ear, lowering yourself on his cock, the base of it stretching your wet sex. The curve of his cock pushes against a spot, eliciting a strangled moan from you. You clench tighter around him, your plush walls squishing around him- silky and plush, against his cock. “Acting like you’ve never fucked a cunt before.” Your words low, lowering your head to kiss at his neck, wet spots that glisten against his skin.

“Not-” he’s interrupted by a moan, hands clawing against you, pressing you close to his flush body- “not as good as yours.” His hands release you and you immediately rise. Your smile is breathless and coy, chest rising and dropping as you stare down at him. Your eyes soften for just a moment, and his own hands come to pinch at his nipples, the soft tissue of his breast squished under his hands. He must look pitiful- a look akin to that of a hurt animal if your gaze on him is anything to go by. He knows how he must look. A flushed face tinted in a rosy red, eyes that shine with tears, lashes that catch the fallen drops and a tear-stained face, puffy, reddened lips that part with each gasp of air. He must look wretched.

Your hand curves around his cheek and he leans into your touch. “How sweet-” your smile returns into a more stretched version, teeth hidden behind your lips- “my dear Leviathan.” He wonders if you can hear the way that his heart beats. His mouth parts and there’s a sick perversion where he wants you to spit on him, to treat him like the disgusting pervert that he truly is. “Are you close?” Your nails drag along his skin and he can only nod, eyes flickering to where your skin slaps against his. “You know that you’re only allowed to because of me, correct?” Your eyes glint with something that he cannot place. “No matter what anyone says,” your voice lowers and it’s erotic to him, something like a drug that he’s never taken and makes him all more weak to you, “you’re nothing more than a living toy.” He jerks inside of you and his stomach begins to ache. “A pretty, little demon that I get to fuck.” He so desperately wants to touch you. “You’re nothing more than a filthy, yucky otaku.” His nails pierce into the skin of his breasts, blood dotting along him. Your eyes dart to his chest before returning to his eyes, lowering until the tip of your nose brushes against his. “Don’t ruin yourself Levi, save that for me.” Your lips meet his and he does as he is told.

His hands leave his chest and he pushes you onto him, spilling his seed into your cunt, feeling the way that your walls tighten and pulse, the heavy beating of your body and the heat that floods out. He’s moaning into you, muffled and drowning out your gasped version of his name that escapes your lips.

His cock is wet as he lays beside you. He’s curled against your side, a softening cock that sticks against your thigh, body curved so his head rests on your chest. He lays above you, eyes wet as you pet his hair. “You had such a lovely look on you, Levi.” He can feel your lips kiss at the crown of his head. “It made you look so handsome.” He lets out a weak cry, nodding as tears slip past his closed eyes, nuzzling closer to your chest as your hand lowers to soothe against his back. You shush him gently as he begins to rut against your thigh.

#obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me #obey me imagines #obey me levi x mc #obey me leviathan headcanons #leviathan x reader

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thebigttree · 2 years ago

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the dbt workbook on my shelf is getting dusty

I am mourning two things: myself and you, and so I buy a book. The book says “How to manage your grief” so I read it because I have grief to manage and it claws at my chest and eats at my intestines and leaves little pockets of space inside me, void and emptiness where it has devoured parts of my vital organs.

The book says to do your best, so I do the best I can and my best isn’t good enough.

What now?

Digging a hole in my backyard and I keep saying it’s for flowers but it keeps getting deeper and deeper and you're starting to wonder at the state of my room and at how dirty my hair is. “You have to try,” you say, just like the book, and I want to respond “I’m doing my best” but the words fall flat because it’s only your best when you’re managing fine.

I’ve taken to sleeping under the stars, great glowing things that they are and I find them meaningless, just as I find myself meaningless, just like I find grief counseling meaningless,

The hole in the dirt is soft and cool and forgiving and the perfect size for me to lay down in.

III

Somewhere there is a place and you are there and I don’t know where that place is anymore, I don’t even have a guess. There’s a list of people I would die for and I keep debating your name even though our last texts are from 4 months ago and the book says that I need to let things go, that I need to let you go, but it’s the day after halloween and the discount chocolate reminds me of how neither of us would eat real sugar, gobbling down stevia stolen from starbucks and the fake sweetness told us that this was the right choice, tasting just like the way we told each other we would kill ourselves if the other died.

How do you not mourn a closeness like that?

The body of my child self is buried under my bed, rotting corpses of imaginary friends littering the ground, people walking through and over them unaware, innocence was shot and killed in a shootout downtown, bleeding to death slowly and screaming the whole way until it’s throat was scraped raw and the word help had lost all meaning.

When they discovered the corpse, its nails were torn from dragging its body along the road.

That’s what grief feels like.

It’s picking up the teeth from the ground and eating them, swallowing them whole so that you’ll still be together in some way, it’s laying down where the body was found and pretending you can feel their spirit with you, that you can tell them goodbye, tell them you love them and they’ll hear you. It’s finding traces of them in the makeup of your cells and your sense of humor and then even speaking makes you want to scream and never stop, makes you want to cough up blood, makes you want to fill the empty hole inside of you that will never be full again.

You will never be the same again.

My childhood was ripped away from me in bits and pieces and I will never have it back, just like I will never have you back, and I feel like I’m bleeding to death slowly and screaming and dragging my useless body along the road, and my best is not good enough, and the book isn’t telling me what to do.

You go to the museum right before closing and step into the art exhibit and it’s the quietest room you’ve ever been in.

I sleep in the dirt out back without you and it’s the quietest night I’ve ever lived through.

#wip #mine #poetry #vent #vent art #vent poetry #do not repost #in progress #im unsure on the spacing but well see #tw ed vent #codependency #codependence #death #grief

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y2katsuki · 4 years ago

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promiscuous

soulmate au? a lil suggestive but sfw, pro hero bakugou

word count: 1890

For some time, people started getting a random marking on their body. People thought it was a genetic mutation due to quirks, but over time they discovered two people had matching marks of someone’s quirk. No two marks were the same. After some studies it was proven that these markings were soulmate markings.

Growing up, you hated the explosive marking you had on your upper back. You tried to avoid tank tops, low back dresses and more. No one really wanted to date anyone if you could see a soulmate marking. One day you looked on television seeing the upcoming pro heroes, not being much attention until you hear ‘Ground Zero, with an amazing flashy quirk. Explosives....’, you didn’t pay any more attention. You started at the blonde boy on the television, feeling a connection through the television.

“Well ain't this shitty. Regardless if he’s my soulmate, he's a pro and I’m just a civilian. No chance of us meeting.” You said driely to yourself. There was not much that you could do with your fox quirk. Not many people like you because they quickly assumed you were cunning and sly. So the best job you could get is being a waitress at a popular underground club.

Bakugou was livid when Kirishima took him to a club. He told him they were going out to relax and ended up in a non-relaxing place. His friends were super excited to have a free day and to party, Bakugou on the other hand wanted to go home and sleep. Bakugou sat on the couch next to his friends who were chatting about missions. Until a body appeared in front of the group.

“Heya fellas, I’m y/n. I’m here to take care of you. Can I get you fellas anything?” You flirt. I mean how else will you get tips.

While the others started to ask what was good and ordering, Bakugou stared at you. Noticing the red fluffy ears on your head that moves as you talk, as well as the bushy tail swings to the music. Bakugou for some reason can get his eyes off of you.

“Bakugou, do you want anything?” Kirishima snaps him back to reality. You are standing, with a hand on your hip, smiling.

“Water.”

You smile, before walking away to get the orders. Kirishima and Denki complained to Bakugou about just getting water. Bakugou’s eyes follow you as you head towards the bartender to get the drinks. You shiver as you sneak a peek at the blonde that was staring you down. You smile, thinking this was gonna be a good night and get an amazing tip.

The whole night, you felt the blonde’s eyes everywhere you went. You ignored it, it’s normal for working at a club. Currently you had your eyes on a regular customer you had for a couple months. He tipped big.

“You know I’m not a cheap one.” You giggled, as your finger ran along his neck. “The bigger you tip the nicer I am.” The man’s hand laid on your waist. At the club you were known as the promiscuous fox, playing into your quirk. A sly and cunning fox, that flirts with anyone. You didn’t care, the tips paid your expenses.

“Aren’t you a promiscuous foxie? That’s why I like you.” You internally cringe.

“I’ll be back. I have more customers.” You slightly push him in a flirtatious way, making him laugh. Rolling your eyes as your back was towards him. The bartender laughed as he saw your face.

“He’s still coming here.” He spoke as he made your orders.

“He’s so annoying. He always reeks of alcohol, but whatever. He tips bigger when he’s drunk.”

“Careful, those men always think you own them when you make them feel special.”

“Trust me. He will regret it if he tries.” Over the night, you completely forgot how the blonde’s eyes followed you.

Bakugou stares at the fox head outline that marks his left inner wrist. He wasn’t sure if it was you, there are others with the same quirk as you. He would scan your body to see if there was a trace of a marking, but he was quick to come to the conclusion that it was hidden where no one could see it. He finally gave up and minded his business.

The night was slowly coming to an end, peacefully until people heard glass shattering. Everyone’s eyes turn to the source of sound. Seeing a drunk man with his hands around a waitress neck.

“You bitch! After everything don’t you think you owe me!” The hand grips your neck tighter. Your regular finally snapped at you for not giving anything back for all the tips.

You groan as your nails dig into his wrist. You can see people starting to walk over to help you. You kick his groin, causing him to scream in pain and letting you go. You breath in before kneeing him in the face. Catching your breath, you look at the man lying unconscious with a bloody nose. You grab his collar before dragging him out of the club. Everyone stares at you and moves out of the way. You kick the door before throwing the man out.

“This one is banned.” You look at the doorkeeper.

Walking back in to clean up your mess, you are met with eyes. What? They never saw a person get kicked out of a club.

Your coworker comes over to inspect your neck. You had slight bleeding in the back of your neck, were the drunk man dug his nails into your neck. You pull your hair into a loose bun as your co-worker inspects the nail marks. Everyone’s attention went to their own business after awhile. As your coworker was scolding you from getting in dangerous situations once again and cleaning your cuts, someone else was staring wide eyed at your back.

The blonde can see your upper back exposed, that was hidden due to your hair. Clear as day, he saw the explosive marking on your upper back. Once your cowork placed a bandage on top of the cuts, you let your hair down and sighed.

“Aw man. He tipped so well.” You rest your chin on your palm, as you sipped your fruity drink.

You took the night off, sitting at the bar sipping at your drink. You feel a presence sit next to you but you ignore it. You hummed to the song playing as you swayed with your eyes close. You hear someone clear their throat, causing you to turn around to face the presence.

“Ah it’s you. Blondie.” You giggled. “Sorry, I’m done for the night. That man took the wind out of me.”

“I was checking on you.” His red eyes could still be seen in the dark room.

“Awh, are you worried about me? That’s cute.” You lean more into your hand and smile. “Well don’t worry, I’m heading home. So thank you for checking on me but this is where we part ways.” You sighed as you placed your jacket on.

“Let me take you home.” The blonde gets up.

You give him a weird look, causing him to backtrack and clear what he meant. Worry that a tipsy girl was going home late at night. You laughed and accepted, you didn’t want to deal with any drunk guys you will probably run into as you walk to your apartment. It was silent as the blonde walked next to you.

“Bakugou was it? Thats what the redhead said.”

“Yeah, you said your name was y/n.”

“Wow, what a good memory. Many guys don’t care because I’m just a waitress, so I appreciate that you remembered.”

The two reach your building. Bakugou insists that he will see you at your door. You smile and agree.

“This is the first time a guy takes me home and doesn’t expect anything.”

“Why would I need something in return?” He furrows his brow.

“Well most guys expect a payment for taking me home. I usually kick them and make a run for it.” You laughed, remembering all the times you kicked a man and booked it to your apartment.”

“Well I’m not most guys.” He sneers.

“I can see.” You turn to place your keys to open your door.

“I’m not most guys because I’m your soulmate.”

You’re hand hovers above your door handle. You stand in shock before turning around. You see Bakugou staring down.

“Very funny.” You gave him a dry laugh. “It’s not nice to accuse someone to be your soulmate when you don’t even have evidence.

“Oh really.” He shows you the outline of a fox head on his inner wrist.

“So what? Many people have a fox quirk.”

“Yeah but no but my soulmate would have an explosion marking.”

You feel a chill do down your back. No one has really seen your making, so how did he know? You hid the marking when it appeared, and never mentioned unless someone pointed it out if they got a glimpse of it. You couldn’t believe this man standing in front of you.

“Really? Everyone knows that Ground Zero has an explosion quirk. Impersonating a pro hero isn’t funny.” Your grip your door hand.

“Who said I wasn’t a pro hero?” You felt him get closer.

“Stop Bakugou. It’s not funny.” You turn and glare.

“It’s not.” You feel his hand creep, to touch your marking. Feeling static, your face heats up. “The marking looks just like my explosions.”

You turn around, slapping his hand away from you. You look at him in shock as he held a smirk that was all too familiar. Ground Zero’s signature smirk. He got closer, faces inches apart.

“Prove it.” You whispered. His smirk got bigger, as he took a step back. You hear a small crackling, looking down at his hands. Small explosions showered his hand. You couldn’t believe it. You never thought you would meet him, your soulmate.

He puts his hand down, getting closer once again. Your heart starts to race and your face flushes. His hand lands on your hand wrist, the other near the marking. He pulls you into a kiss. Your heart starts pounding against your chest, as you melt into his touch.

Is this what your soulmate’s touch makes you feel?

His hand starts to snake around your waist, pushing you closer to him. You snap back to your senses. You push his face, leaving small scratches on his face, due to your claws. His arm wipes the beaded blood, as he stands there still smirking.

“I’ll have you know. Even if I am your soulmate, I won’t fall for temptation. I’m not an easy girl, I play hard to get.”

“I love a challenge.” He chuckles.

“Well good luck. I’m not that easy to win. I’ll have you know, I have options.” You open your door. Before closing your door, Bakugou spoke.

“Who knew I got lucky with a pretty and hard to get fox? I’m looking forward to seeing more of you.”

You glared as you slammed the door to your apartment. You catch your breath, as you listen to the whistling and footsteps to disappear. You fall against the door, face flushed in the crimson color.

“Holy shit.” You muttered.

part 2? i don’t know you tell me :)

#mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no academia #mha imagines #bnha imagines #mha headcanons #my hero academia imagines #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou headcanons #kacchan #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou katsuki headcanons

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enternalempires · 4 years ago

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Downfall of a Liar

This is a Lukanette fic. Some fluff, some angst, a lot of salt and Luka being a King of Revenge. You all get to see the more conniving part of our snake boi. Hope you enjoy! Haven’t figured out how to use links yet but my Ao3 username is the same. Basically, Lila Rossi has gone too far and Luka Couffaine is going to do something about it. He is, after all, a Couffaine… a little chaos never frightened him.

Marinette came to him on a Friday afternoon with sad eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Her knees were bleeding and her wrists were bruised, hair messy and lip busted. Her dress was ruined with an ugly paint smear and her stockings underneath were ripped.

“I fell down the stairs,” She told him, looking away. “I didn’t mean to. I must’ve fallen into some paint.”

Luka didn’t believe this.

The wobble in her voice and the unsteady way she had stumbled right into his chest when she saw him was not the actions of a girl used to her own clumsy feet. Marinette was a strong girl and he knew how much of a burden was placed onto her shoulders. She did not crack easily and she did not do it over being a klutz or smudged paint. She did not cry over repairable things, over broken nails or washable clothes. She did not come to him looking upset and watery-eyed without feeling one step from breaking.

These were things he knew.

So, after calming her down and getting her to take a shower, offering her clean clothes and a warm bed, and letting the girl he fell in love with fall asleep on his chest to the sound of his heartbeat, he did some digging.

He went to his sister first and found out the real story.

Marinette was in the art workshop, Mrs. Bustier having set up a lesson in there during the last hour of the day, with the other members of the band as she helped Nathan and Marc on their story.

She was honestly just being nice— as Jules explained— then the bitch, his sister’s respective name for Lila, sauntered into the room and started to wail about how Mari was only helping the two co-creators because she wanted the credit for their work.

The girl he fell in love with defended herself, and her friends did the same but with most of the Akuma class— excluding the band members and Nathaniel— having fallen for her tails of woe and amazing, yet false, life experiences, they sided with the liar instead of Mari.

Then, throughout the rest of the class, the bitch found ways to terrorize Marinette (going as far and tripping her and cutting her dress with scissors, dropping her paint onto her, pushing her into things, or slamming different objects onto her wrists) and then blame her for getting in the way.

Juleka and Rose had helped Marinette calm down a little as the girl broke into tears as soon as they were away from the rest of the Akuma class but she just kept panicking— and ran away. They didn’t know where she ended up until he texted them and asked.

Then Luka asked for Alya Cesiare’s phone number and made an unsettling discovery.

Marinette and the blogger were no longer best friends.

And, horrifyingly, she had been accused of being a bully, a liar, and a manipulator. Lila painted his melody in the way that everyone should view her instead.

Finally he created a group chat with a few allies he could trust.

He contacted Adrien Agreste (because even if the boy had been painfully oblivious that Marinette had once been in love with him, he would do anything for his lady), Kagami Tsurigi and her girlfriend and spoiled brat, Chloe Bourgeois, the boyfriends Marc and Nate, and then the rest of his band.

He named it ‘The Marinette Protection Squad’ and, just like that, the war was on its way.

*-*-*

Lila Rossi was waiting in the back of the school by herself when Luka arrived. He found her hidden between one of the walls and a thick oak tree and he didn’t bother to hide himself as he crossed the grounds over to her.

She saw him, surprise lighting her features for a second before it shifted into a— what he would guess, if it wasn't on someone so repulsive— a seductive smile.

“Luka!” She squealed, sauntering up to him and stopping a few feet away. “How are you, sweetheart? It’s been forever since we saw each other, since your last year in Lycee, right?”

“I don’t care,” Luka took a step back, face emotionless as he looked down at her. His eyes gave away nothing as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’ve made a lot of people angry, Lila.”

“A-Angry?” She stammered, feigning innocence by putting her hands over her heart with too wide of eyes to be real. “Why would they be angry with me?”

“Because you’re a liar and you hurt the people they care about— you hurt the person I care about.”

“Oh,” Lila straightened her back. “You must be talking about my bully.”

“Your bully?” Luka scoffed, less than amused. “Sure, I’ll play along for a minute. Who is your bully.”

“She’s... s-she is Marinette,” The liar sniffles. “And she says such horrible things about me and they’re not true! She pushes me and, and she rips up my homework and she insults me. Whatever you heard isn’t true, I swear!”

“Are you done?” He sighed out, shrugging his shoulders to make them relax more. “You’re a lying bitch, I get it. I’m not here to let you try to sink your claws under my skin, not that it would work, I’m here to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?” Lila asks, voice going a bit nastier than she probably intended.

What a two-faced bitch.

“That you should watch your back,” He says simply, turning slightly to walk back to his house. “You pushed a lot of people into your enemy list by threatening Marinette and now you’re about to face the consequences. It’s only fair to give you a head’s up.”

“Marinette,” she shrieks, “is nothing but a liar and a horrible person—”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, no matter what anyone says, is the kindest person you will ever meet,” Luka snarled, whirling on the sausage-haired girl so fast that she stumbled back, unprepared. “And I’m hers. You hurt the wrong person, you egocentric bitch, and you’re going to pay for it.”

Lila gaped for a second before she forced an innocent look on her face, mouth opening to say something but the musician just continued, eyes hard and narrowed and angry, mouth drawn into a tight line.

He was a generally calm person, he could handle a lot before ever blowing a fuse. Because he was also a Couffaine at heart. He thrived in chaos where others wither and when it came to those he loved, nothing would stop him from protecting them.

Especially when the one he loved and had to defend was the girl he fell in love with.

“She is thoughtful and compassionate and selfless and astounding in how she will push herself to the knife’s edge just to make sure her loved ones are okay. She is a cinnamon roll but the fiercest ally you could ever have. There is no stopping her, there is no convincing her to step down when she’s standing up for something that’s right— when she’s standing up for someone, unless that someone is herself.”

He took a step closer and, well, that must’ve been pretty intimidating because she scrambled to take one back, causing a humorless chuckle to leave his lips.

He was his mother’s son but he had enough of his father in him to leave others terrified.

“And you want to convince me that just because you have the Akuma class, Mlle. Bustier, and M. Damocles so far up your ass that people will hate her? Really? Let me tell you something, sweetheart," He gave a cruel smirk, voice mocking as he repeated what she called him earlier. “This isn’t you and all your puppets against Marinette, it’s now you against the entire school. You might pretend to rule this place but she is the one who everyone looks up to and loves. She’s their sunshine child and leader and she has connections everywhere. She knows people that could make your life a living hell and it is her kindness alone that has spared you in the past. And you should have cut your losses when you had the chance because I, however, am not as kind. You declared war, Mlle. Rossi, do not be surprised when your downfall comes knocking on your door.”

With that and smirking at the ugly glare on her face, Luka saunters away, whistling a happy tune despite how tightly his fists are clenched inside his pockets.

It’s a week later when they make the first move.

Ivan and Rose, because despite her size she puts up one hell of a fight, are Marinette’s bodyguards during school. They prevent her from getting hurt while Mylene, Marc, and Nate make sure to record anything and everything Lila does that’s incriminating towards her reputation.

Juleka is on sabotage duty during school to make sure any plans backfire onto the bitch while Adrien is the distraction. Both were excellent at their job. Almost scarily good.

Outside of school Kagami and Luka strategize and come up with plans to make sure anything Lila says can be used against her. They organize groups and make sure that Marinette and her family doesn’t get bothered by Lila or any of her followers.

One by one more people in the school help. Marinette’s friends from different classes going from the highest grade level to the first year students at Lycee all jump in when needed— when they overhear a lie and debunk it by pulling up proof or contacting the people involved directly (Marinette isn’t the only one with contacts).

One by one Lila is getting more isolated, one by one she’s losing her power.

And it’s so satisfying to see that Luka goes to sleep laughing.

It’s not even a full month before the Akuma class had fully left Lila’s side, the last to turn was Alya— the reporter so distraught over how she realized she had been treating her former best friend that she had a mental breakdown.

It was a month on the dot when Honeybee and Ryuko got video footage of Lila snatching one of Hawkmoth’s butterflies from the air with a wide grin and a “What can I do for you today, boss?” and it was a week later when her life got ruined.

(Marinette was so overjoyed that the constant terror— in her civilian— life was going away that she kissed Luka until their lungs ached and, just like that, Luka got revenge and a girlfriend in one sweep.

And that girlfriend was very, very grateful for it too. Most nights he went to bed with bruise-kissed lips and a beautiful girl in his arms. Marinette looked happier than she did in years and all the planning and frustration melted away when he saw her wake up with a smile.

He couldn’t protect her when she was fighting an Akuma but he’s proved more than enough times that he could protect her when she goes back to having two left feet.)

First she got expelled from her Lycee for false accusations, thief, bullying, and cheating.

Then her lies— ever last one of them— were exposed and her mother was informed about what her daughter was up to and even waved her daughter’s diplomatic immunity— being absolutely disgusted with her daughter’s behavior— when the court cases of people suing her for fraudulence, harassment, threats, attempted murder, and acts of terroism.

Last, but not least, Lila was banned from Paris and all the cases stacked up against her were moved to a different court within France so they wouldn’t even have to see her again.

Though they did see her screaming and shrieking and snarling towards Luka as he joyfully waved at her when the bitch was getting dragged to the back of a cop car, “You! You did this! You made this all happen! I’m going to get you back for this, Couffaine, I swear I’m going to get you!”

She seemed absolutely insane, drool going down her chin from how hard she had been yelling, eyes frantic and face flushed and she jerked like a wild animal trying to get out of her cuffs and the officer’s hands that held her back from attacking the young musician.

He was a Couffaine and this chaos made him delighted to witness.

After all, it’s not everyday you get to see the downfall of the bitch who made the love of your life miserable.

Luka just laughed and sent her a cocky wave, “I look forward to it, sweetheart.”

Well… you can’t say she wasn’t warned.

#lukanette #lukanette fic #salt #fluff #revenge #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #mlb fanfic #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #cute #luka x marinette #chaos #mlb #miraculous ladybug

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curvynerdfan · 4 years ago

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Never let me go

Happy x Reader

Requested by @isitmine I hope you like it hun! I’m sorry it took such a long time for me to complete! I added a lot more length to make up for it! School and work has been crazy but it was a lot of fun to write this and be creative!

Honorable tags: @justahopelessssromantic and @princessofthalia

Warnings: being hurt by a prospect, cursing, violent Happy, murder, a bit of gore

“Hey, didn’t Jax want y’all to meet up with Gemma? I thought she was getting her new furniture shipped in today.” Y/N asked.

“Why the fuck do you care?”, the prospect, Maggot, barked.

“Well, I was just hoping to see Happy soon.”, Y/N responded, confused on why he was being so rude.

“Oh! So you’re one of his bitches huh?”, he grumbled.

“No!”, she argued, “I am his old lady!”

Y/N couldn’t believe a prospect was being so disrespectful to an old lady. Let alone her! She didn’t think she was anything special but Happy was Sergeant-at-Arms and the terrifying Tacoma Killer and she was his pregnant wife. While thinking through the different possibilities of how to handle the situation, she felt a hand land on her neck.

Y/N was at the point where she thought she was going to pass out when she clawed out at his face. The first couple of swipes were misses, until she finally managed to dig her nails into him.The pain must of startled him enough because his grip began to slip. Y/N pulled away quickly and dropped to the ground. She was heaving and thought she might vomit.

“God dammit!” He shouted, bringing his hand up to his face only to see it covered in blood.

He started towards her again and picked up a broken beer bottle on the way.

“Think, about what you’re doing here Maggot,” Y/N kept pausing to breathe, “the club isn’t going to take this lightly”

“They don’t care about anyone but themselves! No one will miss a crow!” Maggot yelled, swiping at her with the broken bottle.

Y/N flinched and covered her stomach with her arms. She was barely showing right now, only in tight clothing but she still wasn’t going to let anything happen to her baby. Maggot missed the first time in his fit of rage but managed to catch Y/N’s left arm on the second swipe.

She began to scream in pain and shout for help, crying out for Happy or anyone else who may be nearby. Maggot swiped at Y/N again, but she luckily managed to knock the sharp glass out of his hand. This really pissed him off and before she could bring her arms up a hand collided with her face. Her head snapped to the side and when she brought a hand up to her face she realized she was crying.

Maggot appeared to have reached his wits end. His arm raised up into the air again and she began to pray to any diety that would listen. Screaming at the top of her lungs, hoping someone will hear her.

Jax looked up from the custom bike he was working on when he heard someone screaming like a banshee from within the clubhouse. He made eye contact with Opie and dropped his tools. Both brothers sprinted across the lot, worried for whoever was making that noise. They burst through the door and were enraged by what they saw.

Maggot was rearing back to hit her again, when he was suddenly jerked away from her. Opie had grabbed Maggot by his raised arm and dragged him away, surely dislocating the prospect’s shoulder.

Jax tried to console Y/N but she didn’t seem to recognize who he was. She was so overwhelmed with fear that she just curled in on herself. Jax believed she was still trying to protect her baby.

On his way towards the garage Opie ran into a frantic Gemma, “I heard screaming. What the hell is going on?”

“This piece of shit hurt Y/N!” Opie growled, throwing the prospect onto the concrete. “ Jax is in the clubhouse with her now. You should probably call Chibs, it didn’t look good.”

Gemma shook her head and stomped away and into the clubhouse. She had already dialed Chibs by the time she opened the door and gasped as he answered the phone.

“What’s wrong doll?” the irishman asked.

“It’s Y/N. Maggot hurt her pretty bad and we’re gonna need your help. How soon can you be here?” Gemma asked.

“Shite! I am grabbing my med bag now. I’ll be there in five.” He said and Gemma could here him scrambling to grab his stuff, “Put pressure on any bleeding and try to keep her from hyperventilating” he demanded as the motorcycle rumbled to life before he hung up on her.

Gemma ran to the kitchen and grabbed some towels before making her way to Y/N and her son. She pulled Jax away and told him to call Tig and Happy. Tig could organize everyone coming in for church so they could vote on Mr. Mayhem and Happy needed to be told what was going on. Jax flipped open his phone and walked to the bar to make the calls.

Gemma slowly moved further into Y/N’s line of sight and spoke in soft, dulcet tones, “Hey, baby. How about you let momma check on you, huh?” Gemma had helped raise Y/N with some other members of the community. Her family had bailed on her when she was sixteen and the town came together to help her. The club provided her with a dorm room and Gemma has been her mother figure ever since. “There’s a lot of blood sweetie…” Gemma grimaced, “Can you show me where it is coming from? You're safe now, your brothers and I are gonna take good care of you.”

“Happy?” Y/N whimpered, looking around.

“He’s on his way.” Jax cut in, walking up behind Gemma and putting a hand on his mom’s back.

“I want Happy!” Y/N whined again pitifully.

“I know sweetheart. She’ll be here soon. How about you let Ma look at your arm huh? Get you cleaned up some before Happy gets here.” Jax asked, knowing it would coax her into letting Gemma touch her.

“Okay... “ Y/N said and slowly uncurled.

When Y/N released her arm, they both gasped. Gemma quickie covered her arm with one of the towels and applied pressure. There was a gash going up her arm. Starting on the outside of her wrist and wrapping its way past her elbow. Some of it was going to need stitches, judging on how deep it was.

Chibs came barrelling through the door and went straight to the bar sink to scrub his hands. He paced quickly over to the trio, still drying his hands.

“Hello dolly, can I have a look see?” Chibs spoke softly to her, noting that she seemed to have gone into shock. “Atta girl!” he commended, when she didn’t flinch when he moved to check her injuries.

She was beginning to develop a deep bruise on the right side of her face. It appeared that the hit had managed to fracture her cheek bone and she had earned a black eye from the mistreatment. He lightly prodded her neck making sure there was no damage to her trachea or esophagus and deemed that she would heal easily enough but be tender for the next week. When he went to press his palm to her stomach and check on the baby she locked her hand on his wrist, digging her nails into him. Her eyes began to fill with tears again as she shook her head with fear.

“Okay, okay darlin’. I’m not gonna hurt you or the baby. Just wanna check on them. Gemma, could you try to put your palm on her stomach? I wanna see if we can get a kick. That means we can skip the hospital… Maybe just have a house call for an ultrasound later?” Chibs tried to speak softly and hide his concern. It didn’t look like the bastard had been able to make contact with her small bump but he had to be sure.

Gemma slowly reached out and when Y/N made no move to stop her, placed the hand that wasn’t holding the towel to her adopted daughter’s stomach. She waited worryingly, hoping to feel the baby kick.

The clubhouse door slammed open again and a rumbling “Babygirl!” spewed frantically out of Happy’s mouth as he trekked across the clubhouse. Gemma sighed in relief when the baby shifted at the sound of their father’s voice and nodded at Chibs. Gemma slowly shifted away from Y/N and stood to stop Happy quickly.

“What are you doing, Gem? I gotta see her!” Happy growled, restraining himself from letting his anger unleash on the club mom.

“And you will see her. I just wanna make sure you’re gonna keep your head on straight. She is in shock if you come in all burly and pissed it won’t help her or the baby. Jax has already called a meeting and that shit will get what is coming to him, but right now you need to be here for Y/N.”, Gemma spoke quickly and with authority. “Now, if you can keep your cool, I am sure it would be a big help for you to sit with her and help Chibs.”

Happy nodded his head and stepped around Gemma. Quickly crouching to the ground to make sure Y/N could see him.

“Happy!” She let out in quiet relief.

He shook his head in attempts to subdue his anger, “Yeah babygirl! I’m here now. Hmm, let me take a look at you?”

She slowly turned her head as his hand caressed her chin and happily allowed him to press his palm to her stomach. The baby slowly kicked along his palm and he smiled in relief.

He turned to Chibs to ask what he needed to do. The irishman directed the Tacoma Killer to gently move his old lady to wear he was sitting against the wall behind her with her body cradled between his legs. Y/N tilted her head back to let it rest against her husband as he wrapped his arms around her. At Chibs instruction his right arm went around her shoulders, his left rested along her baby bump and bent his left knee so she couldn’t see her hurt arm.

“Alright, little pinch hun and then it shouldn’t hurt so bad, hmmm.” Chibs said.

He slowly unwrapped the arm and Y/N jolted when Happy growled in distaste. When she looked up at him to see what was wrong, he tilted his head down and nuzzled his nose against her unmarked cheek. Chibs quickly injected local anesthetic to multiple spots along the abrasion and waited several minutes before running a gloved finger along the injury. Y/N didn’t flinch in Happy’s arms and Chibs took that as a go ahead.

Chibs prepped his supplies and began to clean the gash of glass. Some shards had remained on the bottle when Maggot broke it and he wanted to make sure nothing was embedded when he began to suture. Y/N was slowly coming back to herself and tried to adjust to where she could see when she felt the tugging on her arm.

Happy easily distracted her with forehead kisses and talking through what was going on. He reassured her that something would be done about the prospect. When he mentioned that church was called, she shuddered and begged him not to leave. Happy consoled her to the best of his ability but nothing seemed to work. Jax overheard and let them know this was going to be the only exception of an old lady attending church. Chibs agreed saying that even though they knew Happy’s vote, he had a right to listen to everyone else’s. Plus Chibs was going to give Y/N’s nurse midwife, Tatum, a call as soon as he was done so he could give her pain medication. Y/N would probably sleep through the entire meeting anyways.

Chibs finished suturing her arm and told Happy to take her up to his dorm and help her shower. Happy agreed after Chibs explained that he should have an answer by then and could give her some medicine and wrap the sutures. Happy stood carefully before lifting Y/N into his arms.

He carried her up the stairs and sat her down on their bed. They had a house that was almost done being renovated and they decided to save money by moving back into the clubhouse for the time being. Happy was glad that they lived here, especially right now. He knew she was comfortable and everything was at his fingertips. He could easily lay them both out new clothes and get her comfort items.

“What do you wanna wear after your shower, babygirl?” Happy questioned, wanting to make sure she was comfortable.

Y/N shrugged but told him no when he went to open her loungewear drawer. She quickly directed him to his drawers with the point of her finger. He chuckled at her and pulled out one of her favorite shirts of his to sleep in. It was a faded grey t-shirt with Reaper Crew written in blue on the chest. He also grabbed her a pair of underwear, fuzzy socks and a pair of her sweatpants before quickly laying out new clothes for himself as well. He then scooped her up again and brought her to their bathroom. Y/N began to tear up again when Happy helped her take her shirt off, well his shirt off.

“No, no, no… don’t cry baby! I’m here now. What’s wrong?” Happy asked, concerned.

Y/N let out a whine, “I got blood on your shirt! It’s ruined!”

“Babygirl”, he couldn’t help but chuckle, “You’re crying over my shirt? I can fix that one easy! Just need the hydrogen peroxide.” He calmed her, wiping away her tears.

“Really? How do you know that?” She looked up at him hopeful and then confused.

He shook his head at her cute little scrunched nose, “I’m the Tacoma Killer babe!”, he elated with his arms spread wide, “I would have a very empty closet if I threw away clothes everytime a little blood got on them.”

Y/N giggled. Sometimes she would forget her husband’s renown and think of him as her reserved, badass. Happy corralled her into the shower and quickly stripped so he could join her. He grabbed new washcloths, before joining his wife in the shower.

The couple used this time to check in and reassure each other. Both clinged to the other, gently washing away the blood and trauma of the day. Y/N rested her head on his chest while he shampooed her hair. She braced her hands on his waist tilting her head so he could rinse away the suds.

Happy grabbed her chin and she could feel his chest rumble against hers as he growled at the marks on her neck and face. He leaned down and rubbed his nose against her cheek. Y/N quickly stood on her tippy toes and brought her lips to his. Happy let out a groan before posessively attacking her lips with his. Y/N could tell he was reclaiming “his territory” and she wasn’t mad in the slightest. She gasped when his teeth tugged on her lip and he happily delved into her.

By the time the couple was done showering, both felt reassured in their bond and were clean of Y/N’s blood. They both quietly changed into clean clothes and Y/N let out a quiet groan when the pain in her arm began to make itself known again. As soon as she was dressed, Happy wrapped her up in her beloved blanket and handed the turtle stuffie to her before scooping her up again.

When they reentered the clubhouse, the mess had been cleaned and it looked like nothing had happened. Gemma walked up to the pair and handed Y/N a plate covered in some of her favorite snacks and told her that her babies had to eat before kissing her head and walking off. The plate was filled with cubed apple, cheddar cheese, some strawberries, dill pickles, a few chunks of pumpkin bread and a handful of chocolate covered pretzels.

Happy then carried her into church and sat down. He pulled his legs across his and braced her back with his right arm before sneaking away some of her chocolate pretzels. She began to grumble at him when Chibs approached the duo. He smiled at the two before passing Happy a bottle of pills and a bottle of water.

“She can take up to two every eight hours. Two will knock her out and one will just make her a little loopy.” He told Happy before turning to Y/N, “You can go ahead and take two now. I need to apply an antibiotic to the stitches and then wrap your arm, then I’ll leave you be darlin.”

“You’re never a bother Chibby.” Y/N stated before swallowing the pills Happy placed in the palm of her hand, “Thank you for taking care of me”. Y/N reached out and gave Chibs’ hand a squeeze before he began to wrap her arm.

“Tatum will come by tomorrow morning for a check up on you and the baby. She assures me that we handled everything correctly and that the medication will have no ill effects on you or the baby. She wanted me to remind you to hydrate and let others take care of you”, he said, giving her a knowing look. “I am staying here tonight, just in case. We will need to rebandage everyday and the stitches should be able to come out in a week in a half or so.” Chibs informed them before pressing a kiss to Y/N’s palm and standing.

He walked out of the room and Y/N leaned further into Happy. She munched on the apple and cheese chunks and sipped on the water when Happy encouraged her to do so. She was about three quarters of the way through her plate when her head began to bob. Happy had to prod at her to keep eating what Gemma plated for her. After her head bobbed for the third time, Jax knocked on the door and stepped through.

He looked at Y/N softly and waited for Happy to nod “Let’s do this brother”

Slowly the rest of the patched club members filtered their way in. Jax took his seat, quickly followed by the rest of the main table. Jax slammed the gavel to start the meeting and smiled apologetically at Y/N when she jolted at the violent noise. Happy pushed the turtle plushie further into her arms and tucked her head into the crook of his neck.

Y/N let out a soft sigh of content and snuggled in, letting the medicine take full effect. She would jolt every once in a while when the guys allowed their anger to take control or raised their voices. The vote to indict Maggot to face Mr. Mayhem was unanimous but his sponsor decided to move charters before the vote. He didn’t feel right invoking Mayhem on his prospect but it was well deserved and the vote needed to be unanimous.

Within the hour, Happy was handing Y/N off to Gemma who was going to watch over her until the men were done. Jax normally would make the prospects stay with the women but he wanted them to see this. All of the crap that had happened was due to a prospect thinking he was the shit. Maggot forgot that the club is family and he certainly forgot the consequences that come with betrayal.

Jax easily approved of Happy killing Maggot in the same ways he hurt Y/N. He began by telling the man that the entire club voted for him to meet Mr. Mayhem and when the prospect had the audacity to try to spew more hate about Y/N Jax couldn’t control his anger. Completing one of the steps of the man’s death by driving his fist through his temple.

Maggot fell to the ground but didn’t stay there long. The prospect had enough wit to scramble backwards when Happy stalked towards him. The Tacoma Killer had a sick smile spreading across his face while stalking towards the piece of shit who hurt his wife. Happy wrapped his hands around Maggot's neck and lifting him into the air.

Maggot choked for breath and Happy laughed. The killer waited until it looked like Maggot was about to die and then released his neck. Maggot struggled to catch his breath and flinched when Opie busted a new beer bottle and handed it over to Happy.

“You thought we’d forget!” Jax yelled motioning for Tig and Half-Sack to pin the squirming Maggot down.

Happy dug the beer bottle into Maggot’s arm and when the disgrace began to wail Tig punched him again. Blood was flowing steadily from the gaping wound running towards the garage drains. Happy then went wild with the sharp glass, rapidly stabbing the man repeatedly until Opie pulled him off and knocked the bottle out of his hand.

Happy’s body shook with adrenaline and a growl worked his way up and out of his chest. The satisfaction of killing the bastard was battling his desire to drag it out. If he wasn’t itching to get back to Y/N and their unborn baby. He shook out the jitters and gladly accepted a work towel from Chibs. His clothes were a mess of blood.

Happy trekked across the lot and into the clubhouse before ripping off his clothes and shoving them into a bag. He hauled ass up the stairs in just his boxers. When he cracked open the door to his room, Gemma was sitting on his side of the bed reading a book and Y/N was curled around her plushie on top of the covers.

Gemma got off the bed, gave Happy a look and smiled when he nodded back. She pecked his cheek before heading out the door. Happy silently maneuvered through the dorm towards the shower. He rinsed his body until the water ran clear and then soaped up. Once out of the shower, he threw on clean boxers before nudging Y/N awake.

She squinted in annoyance until she realized it was him, “C’mon doll. Let’s get you ready for bed.” Happy encouraged, pulling her out of the bed and to the bathroom. He handed her a toothbrush and grabbed his, letting her lean on him sleepily while she slowly brushed her teeth. He motioned at the contact case once their teeth were clean.

Y/N was taking her contacts out when Happy asked “Music tonight?”

She bobbed her head in response, “Can you put on Florence and the Machine?”

He nodded, leaving the bathroom. Happy pulled for the fan, put the record Y/N requested on and pulled back the covers. He heard the toilet flush and looked up to see Y/N stumble back into their room. She toed out of her sweatpants and socks before snuggling under the covers up against Happy.

His arms went around her stomach and Y/N’s hands rested on top of his. He thumbed at the baby bump. It helped remind him that their baby was going to be okay and that Y/N was safe now. Y/N turned her head to nuzzle into Happy’s shoulder and breathed in his deep scent of cinnamon and sweet tobacco. Y/N dozed off to the sound of her murderous man’s heartbeat and “Never Let Me Go” playing in the background.

#sons of anarchy imagine #request #jax teller #happy lowman #happy x reader #samcro imagine #samcro x reader #sons of anarchy request #soa imagine #soa #tacoma killer #happy lowman x reader #my work #sons of anarchy

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allegedlyanandroid · 4 years ago

Note

Pairing: Allen60 Prompt: Cold Types: Found Family, Fluff AU: Angels and Demons, Sixty as the little devil he is, and Allen just being human.

I am so late 😅 I wrote an entire thing before realising I hated every word of it and started over from scratch. Anyway... excuses aside, I hope you like it @yayen-chan <3 `(‾◡◝)´

“Okay, bookshelves first,” Allen mutters, following the intricate maze of arrows and concrete as he tries to navigate the local IKEA. “Or rugs. That works too,” he sighs when he glances up and finds himself in the wrong part of the store. Looking through the copious amounts of different rugs Allen rapidly finds himself overwhelmed. He tries reading a few of the ridiculously complicated names, stuttering over them when trying to read them out loud. “Ra- raskmol- mölle?”

Giving up on the fifth time trying to pronounce it correctly Allen rolls the grey-and-black striped fabric up and tosses it on the cart, already dreading trying to find the rest of the items on his list. There’s only one really but when passing through the plant-section he stops to pick up a potted plant. The other one is beyond salvaging from lack of water. “Ilex, foreeneling? För-enlig. What are these names?”

After another dead-end and some frustrated grumbling, he does find the bookshelf he needs. Honestly… this trip alone solidifies why he’s never getting a puppy. The one he took in to foster was a sweet thing but very demanding and unaware that he weighed quite a lot for a pup. He’d knocked Allen’s bookshelf over, thus breaking it, and also had an accident on his rug. If being petless meant never having to go here again then that’s a price he’s willing to pay. At least the shelter had found a family for him quickly and, while he did miss the little rascal, the puppy was undoubtedly in better hands.

“Kallax, hemnes... gersby?”

Too caught up in his own head he doesn't notice the strange scent of warm brimstone and ash filtering through the air nor does he notice the young “man” standing behind him, a man who seemingly appeared out of thin air, until he hears the sound of a throat clearing. Allen jerks his head up from wrestling with the cardboard box and offers an apologetic smile over his shoulder. “I’ll be done in a minute.”

“Or, you could tell me why I’m here and spare me the mundane small talk you humans seem so obnoxiously fond of.”

“I’m sorry?”

The man squints. “You summoned me.”

Allen pauses to take a good look at the man. He’s tall with black, artistically tousled hair and endless amounts of freckles. A few moles are scattered across his skin and his brown eyes are filled with irritation. Dark jeans with a long-sleeved shirt tucked into it, a black overcoat ending at about mid-thigh and a purple scarf hanging unknotted around his neck. Allen thinks long and hard yet finds no recollection of ever seeing this man before in his life let alone speaking to him. “I have no idea who you are.”

“You-” the man pinches the bridge of his nose, inhales deeply and slowly let it out before starting again. “You read the incantation to evoke me and you what… didn’t even realise it?” he asks and receives nothing but a blank stare from Allen in return. “Ugh, humans.”

In the blink of an eye the man transforms. Horns curve with the shape of his skull, producing from close to his temples, before ending in sharp tips that blend in with his raven hair. A black tail is wrapped around his leg which ends with a jagged spear-like point. The tips of his fingers look like they’ve been dipped in charcoal, fading into dark grey about halfway up his fingers, with claw-like black nails top it all off. They tap against the metal shelf next to them as the demon slowly advances.

Too shocked to move, Allen’s jaw is taken in a firm grip and when the demon smiles his teeth are pointed blades. “So… are you going to tell me what it is you want?”

“You can let go of my face for a start,” Allen says, adding a quick “thank you,” when the demon does as he’s told. “What’s your name?”

“You may call me Sixty.”

“Sixty,” Allen repeats. “No offence but I quite like having my soul intact. I’m sorry for dragging you from… whatever circle of hell you reside in, but I’m not interested in making any sort of deal with you.”

“Sucks to be you then because I’m not leaving until you do,” Sixty says and from his tone of voice alone Allen knows he’s a hundred percent serious.

‘Fucking IKEA.’

“Really? You couldn’t have chosen to live somewhere a bit warmer?” Sixty asks with disdain, thankfully back to looking human. His feet sink into the four inches worth of snow dusting the ground and he can already feel the cold seeping in through the gaps in his clothing. “Or somewhere nicer in general.”

“No one’s forcing you to stay.”

“No one’s forcing you to live here.” A pause. “Or if they are, I am more than willing to kill them for you free of charge.”

Allen sighs.

Having a demon for a housemate isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Sixty mostly keeps to himself whenever he isn’t trying to get a rise out of him or complaining about the cold or putting things on tall shelves like the little shit he is. Until Sixty gets bored that is.

Because when Sixty gets bored trouble ensues.

Emerging from his office after a long day of meetings to see his demonic housemate casually chatting with parts of his team in the breakroom is a bit out of left field and the sight of Sixty’s mischievous eyes boring into his own is enough to quicken his pace. “What are you doing here, Si- Silas?” he asks, forcing a smile on his face.

He hates how no one else can look past the innocent brown eyes and syrupy grin to see the smugness beneath. “I thought we were supposed to eat lunch together? Did you forget?”

“No, of course not,” Allen hastens to say, ignoring Willis and Clark’s knowing grins, as he wracks his brain for a response. “Though I distinctly remember asking you to wait outside.”

“It would have been rude of me to decline Julie’s offer of getting coffee,” Sixty replies and raises his mug as if to show it off.

“No need to be jealous, boss. We just wanted to get to know the guy better,” Julie says.

“Yeah, it’s not like we’ve ever seen you hang out with anyone outside of work apart from Reed,” Clark pipes up. “We got curious.”

“I’m not jealous!” Allen tries to defend himself, latching on to the word, but the agitated tone does nothing to help his case. Sixty smirking behind the rim of the coffee cup like a cat who got the cream isn’t helping to improve his mood either.

“You are the pettiest asshole I’ve ever had the unfortunate luck of meeting,” Allen says when they’re safely away from prying eyes.

Sixty snickers, knowing full well the amount of endless curiosity and ceaseless questions he’s unleashed on the human. “There’s an easy way to get rid of me.”

The fistful of snow he gets shoved in his face shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

By the time he manages to blink the melting snow out of his eyes Allen is too far away to retaliate, though that doesn’t stop Sixty from trying.

Despite his best efforts Sixty’s irritation with being unceremoniously dragged into the mortal plane dissipates after the third week of staying with Allen. By the time he’s been there for a month and a half, Allen’s team have adopted him as one of their own and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t flattered. They genuinely care about his well-being and often invite him along on outings. As someone whose family is… overbearing, their light-hearted ribbing is a nice change of pace. Their easy dynamic is the very opposite of stifling. No one ever pries when he declines to answer a question. No one touches him after he made it clear he dislikes physical contact. No one quizzes him about his every movement.

It’s… nice.

The next team building exercise and subsequent photo op, proudly displayed on the communal fridge, includes him and Sixty doesn’t cry even a little bit upon seeing that.

Not at all.

In the end, the shift in their relationship is near seamless ‒ from reluctant roommates to friends to something more.

What hits him first is the metallic scent of fresh blood and Sixty is halfway across the room before he can even process rising to his feet. He gathers Allen up in his arms and leads him to sit down on one of the kitchen chairs. Part of his dark shirt is tacky with blood and Sixty feels no remorse when he shreds it to get it off as quickly as possible. Something, a bullet or knife, must have grazed his side. It’s bleeding sluggishly though it thankfully isn’t deep. Sixty takes the ruined shirt and presses it against the wound. “Keep putting pressure on it.”

Allen doesn’t answer and in the end he’s the one who has to move Allen’s hand to take over while he dashes to the bathroom for the medkit. Sixty plunks it down on the floor and fills a bowl of lukewarm water to put down beside it before fetching a clean towel. He kneels down between Allen’s legs and cleans meticulously around the area, noting the patches of skin where bruises are slowly forming. Swiping over the wound with antiseptic earns him a bitten-off hiss and Sixty puts a hand on Allen’s sternum to steady him after the first involuntary flinch.

He keeps it there, soothed by feeling the steady thrum of Allen’s heartbeat beneath his fingertips, until he needs the use of both his hands. In its absence, Sixty’s tail comes up to wrap loosely around his thigh for comfort.

Butterfly bandages instead of sutures, his tail instead of his hand. Allen doesn’t say a word about either choice though he is smiling down where they’re connected once Sixty chances a quick peek.

There’s nothing left for him to do after covering the wound with gauze, taping the edges down, yet Sixty finds himself lingering there regardless.

It’s easy to trace around the gauze with the very tip of a claw and when he catches Allen’s dark eyes the urge to lean down to place a gentle kiss over it wins out. Allen sighs quietly and coaxes Sixty up to kiss him properly ‒ a chaste press of lips against lips followed by a sincere thank you.

Sixty blushes and knocks his forehead against Allen’s, mindful of his horns, in a silent show of affection.

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“Because I literally stepped in the door a second ago?” Allen laughs and pulls Sixty in for a quick kiss.

“Excuses,” Sixty sniffs and steals another kiss, one that quickly devolves into a dozen pecks being pressed all over his face until Allen plants a last lingering one to his lips.

“I love you,” Allen says when they break apart for real.

The shy smile spreading over Sixty’s lips is one he’ll never tire of seeing.

#slowly but surely working my way through these #sorry it's taking so long #dbh allen #captain allen #dbh sixty #rk800 sixty #allen60 #dbh #detroit: become human #detroit become human #allegedly answering asks #mini fic #my writing #that awkward moment when you're in an ikea and accidentally summon a demon

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cyberneticlagomorph · 3 years ago

Text

"Take stock of your surroundings."

Right.

OK.

You can do that.

...Probably.

...you have no idea where you actually are, and it's hard to see beyond the smoke and bones.

The tea party is gone now, just a smoldering puddle of plasticky goo, dead bugs, and melted candy.

A spectral, catlike paw thrusts itself from your torso seam, clutching a map that it shakes at you impatiently until you take it.

The paw gestures in a "how fucking hard was that?" kind of way before going back wherever it came from.

You take a moment to dig around in your fluff again but find absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, except for a piece of chocolate you somehow missed and immediately eat.

The map unfurls on its own and floats at your eye level.

Everything except where you are currently is covered in a thick layer of pulsating static, like the fog of war in video games.

The anomalous arrow shows up on your map, and continues to point in the direction of home.

"That's a quest marker dude, like in an rpg," says the voice from before, "...did you get us fuckin isekai'd?"

You open your mouth to speak but all that comes out is a squeaky noise, like a dog toy.

"What do you mean 'who am i?', it's me Kay, duh."

Another squeak, followed by a honk and a jingle.

"Kay, your symbiote? Your literal skin? I take a nap for two weeks and not only do you come down with amnesia, but you get us isekai'd... fan-fucking-tastic my good bitch."

You honk again.

"You take that BACK you little asshole!"

You squeak very matter of factly.

You will not be taking that back any time soon.

Neither of you speak for quite awhile as you wander along the path indicated quest marker.

You periodically check the map, and watch the static clear as you go along.

Clouds made of cardboard and cotton balls scud across the sky on tethers of brightly colored scrap yarn. Weird little bird shaped doodles worm their way along, making horribly wet sounds as they go.

This would be almost pleasant if the sun didn't give you a headache.

Jingle.

"What."

Jingle jingle.

A sigh from Kay.

You stop and jingle some more.

"No I don't know where Alice is, and there aren't any quests in the directory about her either..." Kay trails off, sounding befuddled, "oh for fucks sake am I a fucking HEADS UP DISPLAY?!"

They sound incredulous.

It's great.

"Fuckin anime lookin ass gets sideswiped by truck-kun, and im stuck in peewie's playhouse on lsd AS A FUCKING GAME CONSTRUCT!"

You lose it then, doubling over with laughter that shakes your entire tiny body. You sound horrible, like somebody's strangling a rubber chicken with a handful of jingle bells.

There are tears in your eyes, well... "tears". Little flecks of blue glitter fall from your eyes like snow. It's kind of cute actually.

Kay makes a sound, "Alright alright, cut it out before you pop a stitch or something."

You flinch, laughter stopping.

You don't know why but that phrase hurts to hear? Somehow you taste sedatives, and feel long purple nails running along fresh sutures.

Mismatched eyes dissecting you better than her scalples ever could.

The sky shudders and blackens like a bruise.

Plastic glow in the dark stars bloom in the wounded sky and some even fall to the ground around you with a clatter.

The blood seeps from the rising moon and hits the ground in sticky black globs that grow eyes and squirm towards you rapidly.

You can't breathe, legs trembling, ears back.

Teeth bared.

Your claws unsheathe, becoming daggers.

As the bleeding moon begins to wail, you ready yourself for a fight.

#action post #down the rabbit hole again #ask to tag #blood #horror

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king-finnigan · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right

What a Wonderful World Masterlist! Als on AO3!

Day 6 of Whumptober! In the menu today is: “Get it out”

~~~

He looks up when he hears stumbling footsteps approaching the camp. He reaches for the knife in his boot in reflex, setting his lute to the side gently as his eyes dart over the treeline, trying to see anything in the darkness that surrounds the clearing.

A branch snaps to his right, and he whips his head around, slowly drawing the dagger, clutching it in a slightly trembling hand. “Who’s there?”

More footsteps, and his heart is pounding in his throat, now, breath coming in and out of his lungs in shallow gasps, sweat gathering on the back of his neck. Something heavy falls, and he startles, before he hears a soft “fuck”.

“Geralt?” He throws his dagger to the side haphazardly, hurrying to his Witcher, who’s breaking through the treeline at last. Geralt nearly collapses on the ground, but Jaskier manages to catch him, worry coiling in his gut at the sight of Geralt – face pale and gaunt, eyes wide and slightly panicked, one hand clutching his side, blood dripping over his skin, as his legs buckle underneath him with every step.

“Good gods, Geralt,” Jaskier mutters, as he half-carries, half-drags Geralt to the campfire, lowering him down in the dirt rather quickly and ungracefully. “What happened to you?”

“Werewolf.”

“Right, yes, of course,” Jaskier mumbles, turning Geralt on his back and starts fumbling with the straps of his armour. “You’re going to have to give a bit more detail than that, though. Where are you hurt?”

Geralt groans as he lifts his arms up, allowing Jaskier to take the breastplate off, along with his torn and bloodied shirt. “Side, mostly.”

Jaskier nearly squeaks at the sight of Geralt’s side, covered in deep scratches, blood continuously dripping from the wounds, skin and flesh mangled, the lower edge of his ribcage visible, as well as the upper edge of his hipbone. “Fuck, Geralt.”

“Hmm,” Geralt agrees. “My potions bag,” he mutters.

Jaskier blinks, then stumbles upright, nearly tripping over his own feet as he makes his way over to their packs, rummaging through them until he finds a familiar leather satchel that Geralt told him to never, ever touch. He hurries back to Geralt’s side, opening the satchel, shifting through the flasks, the clattering of glass mixing with the sound of the campfire snapping and Geralt’s laboured breathing for a few seconds.

“Which one do you need?” he asks frantically, heart beating in his throat as more and more blood seeps into the dark earth.

“Kiss,” Geralt mutters. “I need Kiss.”

Jaskier stills, eyes wide, heart still beating impossibly loud, though now for a different reason. “Geralt, while I really appreciate you asking, and while I would gladly indulge you right now, I can’t. You’re dying- you’re bleeding out as we speak!”

Geralt closes his eyes and sighs. “I need the potion Kiss. It’s light blue, in a round vial. Should be labelled, as well. Stops the bleeding.”

He blinks, before turning back to the potions bag, cheeks burning. “Oh, alright, of course. Makes sense,” he mutters under his breath. He finds it soon enough, and hands it to Geralt, who uncorks it with his teeth, before downing it in one, long sip. Then, the Witcher lays his head back on the dirt, closing his eyes.

“Need your help, Jask.”

He blinks, but nods eagerly, settling down on his knees next to Geralt. “Yes, of course, anything.”

Geralt weakly gestures to his side, and Jaskier notices the bleeding has slowed down to a soft trickle. “Still a claw in there. Gotta get it out.”

He blanches, feeling the blood drain from his face. “Right, yeah, of course. Good luck with that.”

Geralt opens his eyes, locking gazes with him, and dread settles in Jaskier’s gut. He already knows what Geralt’s going to ask of him. Doesn’t mean he’s going to like it. “You have to get it out for me, Jask.”

“Can’t… can’t we just leave it there? Until we find a healer, that is. I mean- Geralt, I’m hardly qualified to bandage your wounds, let alone rummage around in them to get a claw out, and- and- why can’t you do it yourself? I mean, I’m sure you’ve done this plenty of times before, and I- I have never done anything like that-“

Geralt’s hand slowly reaches out to cup his cheek, smearing blood all over his skin and cutting his rant short. “Jaskier, look at me.” He obliges, though his breathing is still going fast, heartbeat pounding in his throat. Geralt looks a lot more collected and calm, even though he’s the one that’s injured, and shame makes heat rise to Jaskier’s cheeks.

“Jaskier, we have to get this out as soon as possible, or it will infect, the wound will fester. I know you’re scared of hurting me-“ godsdammit, when did Geralt get so good at reading him? “-but it will hurt more if you leave it in me.”

“But…” He swallows thickly, hand trembling as it comes up to softly grasp Geralt’s wrist. “Can’t you do it yourself? Please, you can’t ask me to do this- please don’t ask me to do this.”

“I’m sorry, Jask, but it’s better if you do it. It’s near my back, and I won’t be able to see the claw, but you will. You just have to pull the edges of the wound open a bit, reach in, and pull the claw out.”

He sobs quietly, eyes flitting between Geralt’s calm face and the open wound in his side. “Please, I don’t want to do this,” he whispers.

“I know, Jask. Do you trust me?”

He nods, tears gathering on his eyelashes, threatening to spill over his cheeks. “More than anything,” he whispers.

“Then trust me that everything’s going to be fine.”

Jaskier nods hesitantly, and Geralt pulls his hand back, face straining as he rolls himself over on his uninjured side. He gestures with his hand to the upper side of the wound.

“It should be somewhere in there,” he says. Jaskier nods, moves so his knees are against Geralt’s stomach, hesitant hands hovering over his side. “Just pull the edges apart, you should see it.”

He does as he’s told, though he’s trembling as he does so. He cringes at the wet squelch of the wound under his fingers when he pulls it open, swallows to keep the bile from rising in his throat. “Oh, gods,” he mutters, voice shaking.

“You’re doing fine,” Geralt says, though his voice sounds a bit more clipped than before. Jaskier knows exactly what Geralt sounds like when he’s in pain, and he knows that he’s hurting his friend, now. “Keep going.”

He nods shakily, straining a bit with the effort of pulling the wound further apart. “Geralt,” he says, panic slowly rising in him. “I can’t- I can’t see anything.” He gasps, when he notices something white and pointed embedded in the muscles of Geralt’s back. “Wait! I see it!”

“Good,” Geralt breathes, and Jaskier looks up to see amber eyes trained on him. “Now reach in and get it out.”

He nods again, bracing himself when he pushes the fingers of his right hand into the wound, the other keeping it open, still. Blood engulfs his fingers, and he nearly loses sight of the claw because of it. Then, Geralt groans in pain, eyes closed, jaw clenched, and Jaskier starts pulling his hand out, a hundred apologies lying in wait on his tongue.

“No!” Geralt spits out through his clenched teeth. “Keep going. Just get it out.”

Jaskier can’t help the sob that escapes his lips when he pushes his fingers in further, a sickening warmth surrounding his hand, or the tears that start spilling down his cheeks when Geralt groans in pain again.

“Geralt, I’m so sorry,” he hiccups, as his fingers bump into the claw, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” he chokes out between sobs again and again, his fingers closing around the claw, his hand retracting slowly, trying to make sure he doesn’t rip anything apart with the sharp object. “I’m so sorry.”

Suddenly, the claw is in his bloodied hand. It’s so small, for something that’s causing both of them so much pain, and he throws it to the side, burying his face in his hands as he sobs, smearing blood all over his skin.

After a few moments, he feels Geralt’s hand on his arm, and he looks up into amber eyes. “You did so well, Jask, you did everything perfectly. You did so well,” Geralt whispers to him, hand coming up to rub soothing circles into the side of Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier leans forward and to the side, until his forehead bumps into Geralt’s, their breath intertwining between them as he hiccups, tears still spilling down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, Geralt.”

“Don’t be, Jask. You were perfect. But…” Geralt suddenly looks away, something like guilt flashing across his face. “I’ve still got one favour to ask of you.”

Jaskier pulls back, panic slowly rising again as he looks at Geralt, then at the wound. “It needs stitches, doesn’t it?”

Geralt nods slowly. “I’m sorry.”

Jaskier frowns, shakes his head, and reaches for his bag, pulling out the small first aid kit from one of the side pockets, hands fumbling to pick up the needle with his bloodied and blunt nails. “Don’t be. I’ve done this plenty of times before.” He shrugs. “I can do it,” he mutters, more to himself than to Geralt. “I can do it.”

It’s only when Geralt wipes his thumb over Jaskier cheek, that he realizes he’s still crying, the tears that fall into his lap crimson from the blood he smeared all over his face.

“Oh. That’s odd.” He wipes at his eyes furiously, trying to make the tears stop, but they don’t go away, just keep falling in fat drops down his cheeks. He shrugs again, and sets to work stitching up Geralt’s wounds.

It’s quiet in the forest, the only sounds the occasional scuffle of an animal through the leaves, the crackling of the fire, and his own breathing as his trembling hands thread the needle through Geralt’s skin again and again. He’s halfway done when one of his tears – still running down his cheeks, for some reason – falls onto a newly made stitch.

He curses, gently dabbing it away with his sleeve, before he furiously wipes at his eyes again. “Fuck. Why am I still crying? It doesn’t make sense.” He laughs mirthlessly, feeling shame rise hot to his wet and bloodied cheeks. “I’m sorry. I know I should stop, and I’m really trying, but it just won’t go away, and- dear gods, look at me, being such a little baby over here. I’m not even the one hurt, for sweet Melitele’s sake, and yet I can’t stop crying. I’m so sorry-“

Geralt’s hand on his shoulder stops his rant short, and he looks at his Witcher, meets earnest and gentle amber eyes. “Don’t be,” Geralt says softly. “It’s okay to cry, you’re allowed to be upset-“

“But I’m not upset!” Jaskier says, once again wiping more fresh tears away and where the fuck do they keep coming from?

“Alright,” Geralt mutters soothingly, a voice Jaskier’s heard him use whenever Roach gets startled or scared by something. “It’s still okay to cry. You’re doing so well, Jaskier, everything’s going to be alright.”

He nods shakily, as he picks the needle up again, quickly finishing up the last stitches, before cutting the thread off with the knife he discarded earlier. When he’s done, Geralt sits up straight and helps him bandage the wounds, movements gentle and slow, as if Jaskier’s some wild animal that’s going to lash out at any moment. Though, he supposes that’s not far off from reality, when an owl flies by at the edge of the clearing, and he nearly screams in fear.

And when everything’s done, when the wounds have been cleaned and sutured and bandaged, Geralt gathers him into his arms and pulls him onto his lap. Jaskier opens his mouth to protest, but quickly closes it again when he hears Geralt’s slow heartbeat against his ear, when Geralt starts rocking back and forth gently, one hand holding him tightly, the other playing with the small hairs at his nape.

“Geralt,” he manages to choke out, though he has no idea where his sentence is going.

Geralt quickly shushes him, pressing his lips against the side of Jaskier’s head, the pressure grounding him. “It’s okay. It’s okay to cry, Jask. It’s okay.”

So he does. He cries for the worry and fear that’d coiled in his stomach the second he saw Geralt stumbling into the clearing. He cries for the cold panic he’d felt when he’d realized what he had to do. He cries for the feeling of his hand delving deeper into Geralt’s muscles, desperate to pull out the offending claw, as he heard his closest friend groan in pain. He cries for the frustration at not being able to stop crying, and he cries for the shame that he’s the one crying, even though he’s not the one hurt.

Meanwhile, Geralt continues rocking him back and forth gently, continues pressing soft kisses to his temple, continues whispering soothing words into his ear. And though he feels terrible, feels the emotions coursing through him, still, he also feels understood. Doesn’t feel the same judgement from Geralt as he’d felt from his family every time he’d cry, as a young boy. No ‘man up’ or ‘stop being such a baby’ or ‘royalty shouldn’t cry’.

Just gentle support, and the silent promise that even if everything is not okay now, it will be eventually, in the end.

#whumptober2020 #no.6 #get it out #the witcher #fic #wounds #injury #panic attacks #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #what a wonderful world

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serpentinerose · 4 years ago

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Plotless whump for my indulgence; blind Jiang Xi, Meijiang, 1771 words, T-rated.

“Jiang-zhangmen can hold onto this junior, if he’d like.” Mei Hanxue stopped in front of him. There was a presence, ephemeral as dragonfly wings, detected by his spiritual energy alone, just directly ahead. And Jiang Xi leaned toward it, reached out his hands, and shoved it away. Mei Hanxue was clad in his usual cloak, likely that light-colored one with the snow fox fur around the collar that he had remembered seeing once on the Taxue Palace contingent he had hosted at Guyue’ye some years past. It was surely too warm a weather for that garment, Jiang Xi thought, but his fingers lingered just a touch too long on the fabric, just the same. It was soft, he told himself. A small comfort. “Jiang-zhangmen…”

“You don’t have to call me that anymore, Mei-xianzhang,” he replied. “There is no more Guyue’ye.” He could scarcely recognize his own voice. The long period of disuse had carved the strength from it, leached away the last of that eternal frost, and there was nothing left but damp mist on a barren field. He would have laughed, had he the strength. But the outing had taken almost everything out of him, his chest constricting with the effort to breathe, his limbs leaden, and when he blinked, Jiang Xi could feel the tension pulling from his temples radiating downward. It had been too long since he had roused himself from that bed. “Go back.”

“Jiang-zhangmen, if I leave you here alone, what am I supposed to say to Xue-zunzhu?” Mei Hanxue murmured. The wind caressed his face, and with it, Jiang Xi could almost feel those words brushing against his own cheek. As if Mei Hanxue’s lips had pressed the lightest of kisses along the line of his jaw, nose nuzzling at the flush of baby hair just behind his ear, hot breath warm against his neck.

The faint whiff of ambergris beneath a pregnant sky. Jiang Xi shuddered and immediately steeled himself, pulling away. His cheeks burned. He hoped it was born of a lingering fever. “I don’t need your help, Mei-xianzhang. Go back.”

There was no heat in it. There was nothing in it. He tilted his head upward, waiting for the sound of birdsongs to fill the air in this part of the forest. At Guyue’ye, the birds had never ceased singing. They must have vacated the island before the fires were lit, he thought. His stomach clenched, and Jiang Xi absently grazed along the side of his torso, finding the thick wads of bandages beneath the thin robes. The dull ache greeted him. Jiang Xi pressed down hard once, grounding himself with the pain, forcing his swimming head to rise above the current pulling him downward. The earth was damp, soft and sticky under his feet, and Jiang Xi spared a fleeting thought for the way the hem of his robes must have brushed against that muddy ground, smearing splotches along what had been the pure white robes of the convalescent.

Mei Hanxue was more stubborn than he had thought.

“We can sit down for a while,” Mei Hanxue said, reaching out for his hand and guiding him toward something low. Mei Hanxue’s hand was roughened in unexpected places; along the sword grip, as were all of their hands in this cultivation realm, but also along the pads of the fingers. Raised lines, nesting just under the protrusion of nails, likely from the repeated plucking of stringed instruments without the use of a metal pick. Unbidden, Jiang Xi wondered whether those callouses, against the soft skin of a lover’s cheek, brushing just under the translucent skin beneath the eyes, would hurt.

Folly. The fever must have reached the deepest corner of his brain. Yanking his fingers out of that warm grasp, Jiang Xi felt for the roughened surface of a stone bench where Mei Hanxue had led him, and swallowed back a sigh of relief as his limbs folded neatly beneath him, mere moments from buckling into the mud. The walk should not have taken as much out of him as it did. The gash on his side groaned, wept, and Jiang Xi clenched his fist until the tide reached a crest and collapsed onto itself, closing his eyes as if blocking out the merest suggestion of light could do anything for the remnant of this wrecked body.

“Your wounds… are they giving you any discomfort?”

“My wounds are fine.”

“Jiang-zhangmen… if I may, your eyes are bleeding again.”

He knew. The scent of blood, the gradual soak of the thin, almost transparent gauze from liquid other than that mushy, herbal paste Xue Meng’s healer had insisted on covering his inflamed eyes with, the tell-tale warmth dripping out of his eyes, the press of his swollen eyeballs against their lids--he had been bleeding, here, out in the open for all to see.

“They are fine. I know my body best.”

“Jiang Yechen.”

So it had come to this. That final confirmation of what had happened. Guyue’ye was no more, and there was no more need for pleasantries. There was an ache deep in his chest even as he had been the one to voice those words aloud. That sweet, unrelenting tide rose in his throat, clawing laboriously, trudging from his brittle lungs upward. One hand to his mouth, the other clutching his chest, Jiang Xi turned away from the vague outline of Mei Hanxue from behind the gauze, almost glad for all that he could not see of the pity surely plainly written on that expressive face, and muffled the cough as best he could between the crevices of his hand, riding the wave until his head spun with the lack of air.

It was not fast enough. He was not strong enough. Mei Hanxue only sighed, the sound almost exasperated and fond, tinged with worry, and Jiang Xi found himself cradled against a warm chest, strong hands stroking back his hair from his clammy face, rubbing his back, soothing the shudders that wracked his form, and Jiang Xi wheezed into that chest until even that, too, was too much effort for his body, the outpouring of blood absorbed by Mei Hanxue’s robe.

White robe. Taxue Palace’s sect uniform was white.

Like frosted red poppies against the desolation of midwinter, Jiang Xi pondered feverishly, wished for one improbable moment that the sight would greet him behind the bandages, and sagged against that man who would not let him go.

“I’m here. Jiang Yechen, I’m here.”

The sky opened, and a slight mist had descended around them. He supposed they had been here before. He supposed Mei Hanxue had been here before, with him, had witnessed this bout of weakness too many times over, had gazed at his unfocused eyes from behind this makeshift lie, had pressed soft kisses against his forehead, unmindful of the sweat, uncaring of the way Jiang Xi clawed at him through those robe layers with all that remained of Jiang Xi’s strength.

And Jiang Xi was tired, so tired, of fighting. Especially in this particular war.

“Your robe…” he rasped. A gentle pressure on his lips, the brush of soft fabric against his chin. Mei Hanxue must have wiped away the blood. Mei Hanxue must have cleaned his hand, too, with that cloth between his fingers, the movements quick and efficient, as if it was Mei Hanxue and not he who had spent his life in the pursuit of healing. “It’s stained.”

“So it is,” Mei Hanxue agreed easily. “Shall I carry you back, Jiang-zhangmen?”

He would like to laugh, derisive and snide and cruel as he had always been, Jiang Xi thought. The way cornered animals in the wild puffed up their tails and exposed their claws and spat out poison at the merest suggestion of danger. He would have liked to snarl, but all he succeeded in was the slightest lift to his lips. It must have looked like a smile, a crescent moon hung by a thread, wan and shattered. “Mei Hanxue.”

“Please let me take you back. You are not well.”

No. He was not well, and had not been well. Guyue’ye was lost in the flames, and whatever remained of the life he had built within it.

Jiang Xi supposed he still had his pride. Mei Hanxue’s hand was warm against his, and with a jolt, Jiang Xi realized that at some point, the other man had been bold enough to seat himself across from Jiang Xi on this large bench. Sisheng Peak was not like Guyue’ye. He could not smell the flowers that never ceased to bloom, and wondered what they would have smelled like as the flames licked over those gossamer petals, white du ruo dyed in orange fire for a brief moment before reducing to the gray ash that all of them would arrive at one day.

“Jiang Yechen,” Mei Hanxue murmured, squeezing his hand. Jiang Xi pulled back, his breath hitching, and prepared himself to strike.

Before those barbed words could escape his bloodless lips, there was a flush of warmth around his shoulders, Mei Hanxue’s hands hovering just below the sharpness of his collarbone, knuckle ghosting against tender skin. There was a cloak around him, downy fur brushing against his cheeks. Jiang Xi turned away and found himself shivering despite the lingering warmth still on that cloak.

It smelled of ambergris. It smelled of Mei Hanxue.

“Still cold?”

The words were velvet, the voice was silk. He could not see, but he reached out for it all the same, finding himself caught, and entangled his fingers in turn in that silken hank.

For once, he did not struggle within the net.

“No.”

There was no illness in this world that he could not treat, Jiang Xi thought helplessly, and wondered when he had been forced to swallow his own words this way. For this particular illness had reached its final stage, and for once, Jiang Xi did not have the faintest clue of how to even begin to mitigate the slow burn of this sweet poison.

Sometimes, he wondered if that was what he wanted at all.

Perhaps the cure was the poison itself.

“Let me take you back,” Mei Hanxue said, plaintive, and Jiang Xi’s feet followed the warmth of that body, his hand enveloped in one larger than his own, another protectively on the small of his back, and Jiang Xi closed his eyes from behind the damp bandages, allowing this last shred of his dignity to sluice away under the encroaching rain.

It was warm, all around, and one foot in front of another, he leapt.

#2ha #2ha fanfic #mei hanxue #meijiang #jiang xi #my stuff

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years ago

Text

Guardians of the Creatures; AU! Queen x reader Prologue

*Author’s note*

Hey gang I know this year has been INSANE but I am here to tell you all that I’ve now got my next upcoming Halloween FIC series ready at the helm. Now it’ll be slightly similar to my last Hallowqueen fic series (it being in 2nd person POV after this chapter), with some differences.

Now then I wish to give credit to @kinole009x for allowing me to use the same physical appearance that they made for our beloved Deacy in their fabulous series “NEVERMORE” (which you ALL should check out if you haven’t read it. Trust me, you will LOVE IT!!).

Now Idk when the next chapter will be up cause work is REALLY starting to pile up on me now. But I promise this fic series WILL go on, I won’t abandon it after this. I’ve got plans for this series. Enjoy my lovelies and I hope you all enjoy this new HALLOWQUEEN series :)

Warnings: Blood, dark magic, evil witches and wizards, close-to-death experience.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@queensdivas

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@dancingcoolcat

@kinole009x

@queendeakyy

@geek-and-proud

@klausidiot

___________________________________________________________

I……Am the eyes of the world. I can see the past—and the future. Chaos, and darkness. The end of the world, and the rebirth of it. My people have been around since the beginning of time itself. But with the birth of so many creatures, my kind couldn’t survive. Except for me. Who am I you might ask? It is I—Freddie Mercury, who witnessed the rise of creatures, and men.

I’ve seen the world continuously trying to survive with the rise of each new species of the world. And it is here that I have seen a darkness of which no one would ever see before.

Look into my eyes—and trust in me.

There are many dangerous creatures that live within our world. For a certain time period there were were-creatures, Elves, faes, goblins, dragons, mer-people, and all those creatures you would believe to be in your fairy tales and mythologies. But the most dangerous creature of the time wasn’t man.

But Witches. Warlocks. And Sorcerers.

I’ve seen generations of these creatures slaughtering and imprisoning other creatures. And breaking the mythical creatures ancient laws.

And then—one fateful night. I saw our world place our hopes into the hands of two people, the like of which—no one would ever suspect.

*3rd Person POV*

Flying through the dark midnight sky was a cloaked figure and in his arms he held a young woman close to his chest. He dove down as fast as he could to the ground knowing full well that he couldn’t continue flying anymore, not with the woman now starting to cough out blood.

When he finally reached the ground, he picked up the woman and gently set her down on the ground.

“Lumos.” He softly whispered. His hand soon made a light, about the size of a star, appear in his hand. His pale skin could only be compared to the white glow of the moon, while his long jet black hair framed his face and his black eyebrows arched with both fear and concerned for the woman that lay beneath him.

As he shined the light upon the young woman he could now see that blood had now stained her once pink lips. Her sclera was now starting to bleed red and she was coughing out even more blood.

“Serafina. Oh my darling Serafina please hold on.” He pleaded softly as he cupped the side of her cheek. Piercing through the air was a maniacal female laugh. Thinking quickly he made the light from his hand vanish and he covered both himself and Serafina with his black cloak.

High above the air riding on their own brooms a swarm of witches were flying over the air. One of them in particular had curly madded hair (that almost resembled a lion’s mane), she wore a long black dress that was a mix of fabric but also leather that made a corset-like shape around her midriff. She took the lead alongside five witches and four wizards.

All of them wearing black and baring a snake tattoo along their necks.

“They’re not here cousin!” hissed a ginger haired witch.

“Keep searching for them. They’re around here somewhere. That spell I gave her will buy us some time to catch up to them. There’s no way he’d leave her behind.” She cackled softly before flying on ahead with the eight other witches and wizards following her.

Once the coast was clear, the young wizard removed his cloak from the two of them and he slowly picked up Serafina.

“We’re gonna have to travel by foot. I’m sorry my love.”

“John.” She croaked out before suddenly coughing out more blood.

“Shh, shh, shh. Save your strength my love.” He soothed her as he rested her head against his shoulder so that he could press his head against hers. He trudged on through the thick forest, all the while his love continuously coughing out more blood.

He knew that if he didn’t at least find a way to slow down the curse that had been bestowed upon her, she would continue to bleed out internally until she died.

After walking for god knows how long, he set her down in a decent sized thicket. He gave her his cloak and lay down some twigs, grass and leaves before muttering out a quick spell to make them into a pillow. He lay her head on the pillow and stroked her dark hair out of her face.

“I’ll be back my love, I’m going to find some ingredients to slowdown her curse.” He went to stand up but Serafina grabbed his hand and weakly said.

“Don’t…….go……John.” he looked down at her with sympathy and gave her a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“I’ll be careful. I promise.” He covered her up more with his cloak then casted a protection charm around her, in case either the witches or anything else dangerous were to come by.

John raced through the woods hoping to find some familiar herbs that could hopefully be brewed up. He searched and searched but he wasn’t having any luck, and he could hear every now and then the haunting piercing manically laugh of the head witch leading the hunt for them.

It wasn’t until finally when he arrived by a small creek and he had found the perfect healing herb for his love. To some it was known as Athelas plant but in the common tongue it was called Kingsfoil. A weed but it had healing properties.

He took out his wand and shifted it into a small knife and went to cut the root, when he heard a strange sound coming from the creek. A hypnotic, siren-like song soon began to echo through the air. John turned towards the creek and was shocked to suddenly see a hand burst out from the water.

Slowly a body began to rise up over the water. The body was pure water at first until it finally dissolved and morph into an actual human skin. The man that now stood before John was handsome. Beyond handsome actually.

Almost as if he had been carved by the Gods himself. His wild, untamed blonde hair shone under the full moon’s light, and his hypnotic deep blue eyes stared right at John curiously. But when John took a closer look and saw the long claw-like nails, the gills along his neck (that almost looked like deep scars), and the fact that his eyes were inhuman with how they were just pure blue and white, he realized just what this man was.

This was a Nokk. A water spirit said to be a handsome man that is known to lure women and children to their deaths by either singing or playing a sweet song before drowning them. They are also known to be shapeshifters going between a handsome man, or a beautiful white horse. Tempting all that see him in his horse form to ride him before sending them to a watery grave.

Little did he know that while staring at the Nokk, he soon felt a long sword blade slide right down his neck. Thankfully it wasn’t the actual blade of the sword itself, it lay flat against his neck but it still sent fear through him.

“What do we have here? A wizard caught off his guard?” a soft, honey-like voice spoke with a sternness to it.

“Please, I mean no harm. My Serafina needs help.” At hearing that name, the Nokk’s eyes went from defensive and anger to concern and worry.

“Serafina you said?” the voice behind John spoke.

“Yes. Please I don’t have much time, I need to get this Athelas to her. She’ll die without it!” John then whipped out his wand and turned the sword blade into a stick.

He quickly turned around and held his wand at the attack only to soon find out that his ‘attacker’ wasn’t who he thought it was.

This man had curly hair that resembled an animal of some kind, but unlike the witch they were hiding from, his hair was tamed and well kept. John also took notice of the man’s attire and the ears that stuck out from his hair. It was then he realized just who this person was.

“You—you’re an Elf.” the Elf closed his eyes and did a faint nod as he hummed, a hum that sounded like the faint wind.

“Brian May. High Elf Lord of the West. We were also told of your arrival by a friend of ours. He can help her.”

“Just who is your friend?”

“I can sense your hesitance.” Brian spoke.

“Of course I’m hesitant! We’re being hunted by our own cult! My love is dying and I’m sitting here in the dark forest with an Elf and a Nokk!” the Nokk lowly growled that’s when Brian lifted his hand and said.

“Quilda Roger, quilda.” The Nokk named Roger softened his growls but continued to glare at John. “As you’ve said we don’t have much time. Please allow us to help you heal her. And take her to our friend who is a healer.”

“I thought Elves were known to be the best healers?” John asked.

“We are. But by the time we would reach my kingdom it’ll be too late to save her. Our friend is the closest for he lives in the Black forest.” Not being given much choice, John agreed and led both Brian and Roger to where his love was.

Serafina continued to wheeze out her breaths and occasionally coughing up more blood. And either it must’ve been the curse having a side effect, or due to the pressure on her brain, she saw this blinding light coming up towards her.

She turned and there she saw a horse running up towards her and the glowing figure rode on top of the magnificent creature. Skillfully it unmounted from the horse before walking towards her. Finally she could see a man who was too ethereal to look upon.

His tall lean frame, the pale skin, and the halo of curls almost made him look like an angel. His piercing blue eyes stared right down at her, almost as if they were piercing her very soul. He knelt down before her and whispered with what sounded like the sweetest honey-like voice she had heard (that could only be compared to her love John’s voice).

“Serafina. im Brian. Telin le thaed. Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad.” After hearing this beautiful language coming out of this man’s mouth, Serafina turned her head back upwards to the sky as she softly began coughing again.

John soon came in with a small brewing bowl and was currently stirring up the brew. Brian knelt down beside Serafina softly calling out her name once again as he touched her head.

“This curse is strong.” John finished stirring up the brew and gently took his love’s head and lifted it up, with Brian’s help, and he gently poured the Athelas brew down her throat. “She won’t last for much longer. We need to get her to Freddie now.”

John picked her up bridal style and the two of them walked towards Roger as Brian said.

“The five witches are still out there searching for you both further in the woods. The four wizards however, I do not know where they have gone.” John gently placed her on top of Roger’s back and steadied her.

“Thank you for your help. But I can take it from here.”

“Roger and I are the fastest together, I’ll take her.” Brian said.

“No. I won’t leave her!”

“You will take the safest road down the river. Once you reach the end, you will go East and soon you will arrive at our friend’s hut.” Brian explained to John the fastest route he could take.

“But what if they find you? Or worse what if this Nokk betrays you and takes my beloved away? I know of what his kind does to women and children!”

“I understand your concern for her. But she is in the safest of hands John Deacon. Roger will ensure that they can’t reach us.” Roger turned to face John. His ears bent back slightly and he gave the young wizard a bow of his head. “A Nokk’s name is powerful. He will not harm her.”

John faces Roger and in his horse form he gave the young wizard a small huff before lightly nodding his head.

“As you wish.” Brian softly smiled and hopped onto Roger’s back, sitting behind Serafina so that she now had support to lie back on. “I’m trusting you both with my heart. Ride hard and run swift. Do not let them catch her.”

“Noro lim mellon, Noro lim!” Brian spoke to Roger in Elvish tongue, soon Roger took off running deeper into the forest.

As he watched with a heavy heart, John prayed to Merlin above that Serafina would be safe and healed in time.

Running with the speed of mercury, Roger ran across the woods in almost a blur. Brian holding tightly to his friend’s long white mane while keeping an arm wrapped around Serafina so that she wouldn’t fall out. But soon he heard a whooshing sound and through the trees and when he turned right he soon saw one of the four male wizards flying just a few feet beside them.

He looked to the left and he saw that a blonde witch was also flying beside them, the two of them flying closer and closer to Roger’s body hoping to pin him so they could claim their prize. But never doubt the speed of a Nokk in horse form.

Roger ran faster but as he turned into a clear opening in the woods, that’s when the rest of the scouting party descended.

“HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! WE’VE GOT THEM NOW! TEAR THE BEAST DOWN! KILL THE ELVISH FILTH! BUT LEAVE THE GIRL ALIVE. For now. HAHAHAHA!!!” the leading witch cackled manically. Brian turned to the witches and wizards behind and saw one of them take out their wands and fire an attack. He shielded Serafina with his body from the blast that sent an excruciating pain all over his body.

His bite his lip to try and hold back his screams that desperately wanted to come out. He gripped Roger’s mane tighter as his friend ran faster through the woods. But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many times he tried to lose them through the trees, the party still kept on their tail.

When they came across an open meadow, the witch party now had them surrounded like wolves taking down their prey. Brian was almost certain that they were about to die right then and there. But when he saw the crazed woman extend her arm out towards Serafina, it was then Roger took over.

Using his long whip-like horse tail, he whipped the woman across the face and sent her back several feet right off her broom. He repeated the technic with the other wizards and witches that were too close for comfort, allowing him to take off even faster than he had ever ran before in his life.

Two of the witches flew back towards their sister witch and helped her up.

“That filthy mongrel. HE COULD’VE KILLED ME!! I’ll get him. I will kill him and wear his skin like a coat!” the woman cried out as she got back on her broom and took off flying with her sisters following behind her.

Roger soon got them into a thicker part of the woods where the trees were lower and more condensed together. He swiftly turned around every other tree to try and confuse the party that followed behind him and it worked. For some they had to regroup high above the trees just to get out of the condensed area, and others they ended up flying off their brooms cause of the low hanging branches.

Roger leapt over a log and ran down a hill which led to a small river-like creek. He ran across the water till he came onto the other side of the creek. He stopped and turned around to face the witches as he huffed and panted heavily.

“Well done Roger, well done.” Brian praised his friend as he too looked at the incoming party. However once they came to the shoreline of the creek, they found that they couldn’t cross it.

Almost as if there was higher magic blocking them from coming any closer to their targets.

“Give up the traitors, filthy Elf and mindless brute!” the leading witch snarled. Roger let out a loud roar as he reared high into the air while Brian revealed his sword and held it in the air.

“If you want her, come and claim her!” he challenged the party. All nine of them soon took out their wands and all together they fired at the forcefield that kept them from getting any closer.

The forcefield held for as long as it could but it was starting to break. When they noticed the forcefield beginning to break, the party slowly moved forward across the water.

Unbeknownst to them, Brian’s eyes shifted as he stared at the water while softly began to chant in Elvish a spell that had been put up for only him and Freddie to speak out since they were both ancient creatures of old.

Nîn o Chithaeglir lasto beth daer;

Rimmo nîn Bruinen dan in Kuruni!

Nîn o Chithaeglir lasto beth daer;

Rimmo nîn Bruinen dan in Kuruni!

The water slowly began to rise and once Brian finished the chant, the wizards stopped their attack as they suddenly heard a rush of water. Soon storming down from further up river was a tsunami-like wave.

Fearing for their lives, the witches and wizards hopped on their broomsticks and took off flying, but the rushing water was right on their tail. If you would look closely, you would notice that the shapes that were forming in the water were dozens of snakes, all slithering outward towards the witches.

Just before any of them thought they were in the clear, one by one they were each swallowed by the raging waters and taken downstream.

Brian and Roger stood satisfied over the boulder but that’s when they heard the fain wheezing coming out of Serafina’s mouth. Brian took Serafina off of Roger’s back and lay her down on the ground. Her face now almost completely red from bleeding internally, tear streams of blood stained around her eyes, and her eyes were almost devoid of any life.

“Serafina, no! Serafina don’t give in. Not now!” pleaded Brian as he gently shook her. But with one last croak out of her mouth, she went still.

Roger threw his head back and whinnied out a desperate neigh for help as Brian held her in his arms.

‘What grace has given me. Let it pass to her, let her be spared. Save her.’ Brian prayed in his head.

“Someone call my name?” a voice echoed through the air. Both Brian and Roger looked around when the voice spoke again, “You two honestly call yourselves the fastest team? Even I have ran across the world at least three times faster than that.”

“Freddie.” Brian said.

“How quaint to see you again Brian. It’s been—what 200 years since we last met?”

“187 actually.”

“And Roger, my big strong, handsome Nokk how’s the clan doing?” Roger huffed softly and a soft chuckle rang through the air. “That’s good. Don’t want those nasty other wannabes to let them reign supreme over you. Other than me of course.”

“Please Freddie, we need your help. She’s dying.”

“I know. Which is why I’ve already brewed up the proper counter curse for her. Give her to me now, her partner is running himself ragged wanting to see her already.” Appearing from the bottom of the boulder was a large snake tail.

Brian picked Serafina up and placed her body down along the snakes coils. Slowly they wrapped around her until almost her whole body was covered.

“Go now, make sure those nasty witches are dead. I won’t have them interfere any longer.” Then almost as quick as lightning, the snake coils disappeared deep within the forest. Brian looked towards the forest and prayed.

“By the light of the Valor, please let her be saved.”

“She will be.” A soft, raspy voice spoke to him. He looked up and saw that Roger was now in back in his human Nokk form. “She has to be. I’ll be dammed if after we ran all the way here just for her to die like this.”

“And you’re sure it’s not because of your feelings for her?”

“It’s not like that and you know it! The first women to not fall for my charm even when so many married women have fallen for me, Serafina she—she’s special.” Roger said. “Now c’mon. You heard the naga, we have to see whether that crazed bitch and her lackies are dead or if they somehow survived the spell.” Brian nodded and soon the two of them took off running downstream.

In a quaint little hut, the snake coils soon lifted Serafina into the hut and they set her down along the floor.

“Serafina. Oh Merlin’s beard she’s—she can’t be…..” John pleaded.

“Not yet John dear, now quiet I need to concentrate on the spell.” Freddie’s voice soon spoke up. Soon coming down from the ceiling was a man with long pitch black hair, his dark tanned skin glistened amongst the candle light, but what would catch your eyes were the dark green and yellow scales all over his arms, chest, neck and even dotting around his face.

His lower half would be twice as shocking for there wasn’t human legs, no his lower half was pure snake. Dark green with hidden yellow scales. He also had deep brown eyes with the traditional snake pupil.

Slowly he lowered himself down before the witch, his snake-like tongue flickering out so he could get a read on her. She was practically knocking on death’s doorstep. He soon stood face to face over the young witch. His tongue flicked across her bloodstained lips as he hummed gravely.

“The world still has big plans for you my dear. You and your darling lover.” He then raised his hand and forced her mouth open before hissing out in a language that was unknown to John.

It sounded pure snake-like and it was terrifying to listen to. It sent a cold shiver up John’s spine. Freddie’s voice turned almost ghostly as he continued to chant out this unknown spell and soon he let out a low, threatening hiss as he opened his mouth wider and wider revealing not only the overbite, but the other rows of snake teeth in his mouth.

At first John thought his love was about to be swallowed alive by this monster, but just before he could grab his wand, a red smoke shot out of his love’s mouth and entered inside Freddie. The naga was actually swallowing the curse!

John watched with both terror yet fascination as the naga devoured the very curse that had poisoned his love. Freddie placed his hands beside Serafina’s head as he continued to swallow the curse. Once the last bit of it was swallowed, Freddie lurched back and with a gasp, Serafina woke up.

“My love?” John asked.

“My heart.” She whispered. John happily smiled and the two young lovers embraced each other.

“I thought I had lost you.” John whispered in her ear as he stroked his fingers through her hair.

“I thought I was gone too. But you saved me my love.”

“I didn’t do it alone though.” That’s when he turned towards Freddie and once Serafina got a good look at her savior, she jumped back. “It’s alright my love, it’s okay. He won’t hurt us.”

“It’s you.” she whispered in awe. John looked at Serafina confused. Freddie hummed with interest at the young witch.

“So you remember me?”

“Remember him? My love what does he mean?”

“All will be explained young John. Just know that you have a special witch by your side.” John leaned his forehead against his love’s and whispered to her.

“I know. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” Their noses gently brushed up against each other’s lovingly.

“Since you recall our first encounter, I’m sure you’ll also remember Serafina that the world needs you. Both of you. Now more than ever.” The young witch and wizard looked at each other perplexed.

“That’s always puzzled me. What do you mean the world needs us?” Serafina asked. Freddie looked out of his hut and said.

“I have seen the world shift, burn and rebuild itself time and time again. But with what your people are doing, I fear the world may finally burn and not rebuild itself in a peaceful light.”

“We know. That’s why we left. We couldn’t stand along with what they believed in. Now we’re marked for death.” John said grimly as he took his love’s hand in his. She placed her hand on top of his and the two stared at each other solemnly.

“Which is why I have seen a potential future for all of us. But for that to happen, it needs you two as the star attractions.”

“What do you mean?” asked Serafina.

Thus…….I began to tell them of a future that I had seen. A world where all creatures and deities large and small alike could be free, equal, and at peace. But in order for that world to come to pass, we were gonna need one more star.

And that my darlings, is where you come in.

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celestialgaea · 5 years ago

Text

A Teacher’s Affaire || Literature Teacher!Ezio Auditore x Student!Reader || Part II

Warnings:

Part I

‘Hey, Girl! Catch the ball!’ But it was too late after all. The volleyball hit the surface of your face with a big impact. Your head flew back and you felt how the pain spread across your nose. the room was a blurry mess with students and the P.e teacher running towards you. A sea of mumbles and Gasped filled the air, making you confused and disorientated. You didn’t even realise that your nose was bleeding until you felt your lips being covered by the thick moisture, drippling it’s way onto your teeth. ‘Someone bring her to the nurse!’ The P.E teacher ordered and Elise draped your arm around her neck, giving you support to lean on.

‘Elise It’s just a nosebleed, not a sprained ankle.’ You tried to assure her, but she shushed you to silence. ‘Cover up that nose and close that mouth, or do you wanna drink blood?’ She snickered. ‘I beg your pardon, Mother.’ You rolled your eyes and a grin escaped your lips. The both of you walked towards the nurses office but on your way you saw him standing at the end of the hallway, his eyes filled with concern as the blood trickled down from your hand to the floor. Leaving trails of blood on the ground.

‘Mio Dio.’ The thick Italian accent of Mr. Auditore filled the corridors as he sprinted towards the two ladies. ‘Elise, what happened?’ Mr. Auditore asked as he switched his gaze between you and Elise. ‘(Y/N) has caught the ball, but with her face instead of her hands,’ You cringed at the words that sounded a bit innapropriate. ‘She caught the balls with her face? Can my mind interpret it more innapropriate then it already is?’ You asked yourself.

Mr. Auditore grinned at you, as if he understood why you were cringing. You felt a little part of you die by his understanding. ‘Now he will think of me as a pervert. Great!’

‘Elise, you can go back and inform the teacher that I will take care of her.’ Without hesitation she left you two alone, smirking at you. You blushed heavily as Mr. Auditore pretended not to see Elise’s facial expression.

He rested his big hands on each of your shoulder, leading you to the nurses office. His hands felt warm against the fabric of your P.E clothing ; a white t-shirt that was pretty see trough, showing the black bra visibly you wore underneath, and a red short with white lines adorning the sides and the hem of the short itself.

He opened the door of the nurses office and led you inside, closing the door behind him. ‘Where is the nurse?’ You asked. You turned around. ‘She is sick, signorina. Now sit down.’ You obeyed him and sat down as he was ruffling through the freezer for an icepack. You replayed the sound of his voice a few times in your head. His deep, husky voice calling you signorina. Did the other girls also get the opportunity to be called a signorina? You secretly hoped he didn’t, but who where you to fool yourself with such a lie. You had the urge to ask him that. But you didn’t. It would be too embaressing if he thought that you felt affection for him. You only met hem a few months ago. But still you couldn’t explain the way he made you feel by doing his acts of kindness or the worry in his eyes when something bad occured. The way he talks about his passions like no boy could and the way he appears to be so... experienced.

But you abruptly shot your head back into reality when Mr. Auditore snapped his fingers in front of your eyes. Holding the icepack and a few tissues in his other hand. ‘And again you drifted away. You do that a lot you know,’ You mumbled a little sorry before he handed the tissues over. You rubbed the blood of your hands and cleaned your nose, lips and anything that was stained with the blood.

‘I sometimes wonder what you are thinking about.’ He said shaking his head while grinning. ‘It’s nothing special really. Rather the regular day dreaming.’ You pinched the soft part of your nose and held your head back as you took the icepack from his hands. Your cold fingers slightly brushing his warm ones.

‘Regular day dreaming, huh?’ He repeated. ‘Is that why you are always in such deep thought. Like you are in a deep sleep.’ You grinned a little, holding the pack against your nose bridge. ‘Tell me, is it a boy that has conquers your mind?’ You were surprised by how confident he was. His voice contained a hint of interest.

He saw that you were struggling for seeking an answer he quickly appologised. ‘Forgive me, signorina. It was not appriopriate for me to ask.’ He waved his hand in the air as if it was to erase the question that had left his lips and lingered in the air. He rested his back against the desk next to you.

After a long time you spoke: ‘If I am honest. There is someone that has conquered my mind, my sleep, my heart.’ You swallowed and felt your cheeks heating up. ‘Why did I had to express so much feelings along my words?’ You scolded yourself. What had made you thunder-struck was the fact that Mr. Auditore looked as if he was in thought. A hint of dissapointment was written on his face.

***

You still couldn’t help to feel jealous everytime you busted a student or even a teacher drooling over Mr. Auditore. You were foolish if you denied his handsomeness. And that was the reason why you became distant to him. You didn’t want your last year in school to be wasted by dreaming and obsessing over a teacher that probably had a wife and childeren. But that didn’t kept you from stealing glances and staring at him, admiring the things he does even if it is against your priorities.

Just like now. He was talking to a group of female students who all tried their best to look seductive as possible. Oh how you had the urge to gag. Mr. Auditore had his arms crossed while laughing along with the females. One of them bit their lip while the other whirled her hair around her finger, trying to attract the male teacher.

You kept your burning gaze switching between the girls and the handsome teacher. Every tiny laugh, snicker, or grin of those girls made you clutch your hands around your open book even more tighter than before. But the fire of jealousy in your eyes died down when Mr. Auditore Busted you staring. His eyes wandered to your book and then to your eyes, giving you a smile. You gave a faint smile before burying your head in your book, your face red of shame.

But shortly afterwards you couldn’t resist the urge to look at him on more time before focusing on your book, or rather the book he gave you. You sneakily looked up at him again, only to meet his eyes and locking them. Your heart quickened it’s pace and the adrenaline rushed through your whole body. It felt intense, but you didn’t dare to look away.

‘It’s wrong (Y/N). He is your teacher. There is no chemistry, there never was. You just intensify every moment together because of how blinded you are.’

The bell rang, making you break the connection with his amber eyes and sighed deeply before you closed your book and clutched it against your chest, walking off to your next class. Alas! It was literature. You felt uncomfortable walking near him because of how intense the stare off was just a moment ago. You quickened your pace to the classroom so you wouldn’t be confronted by him. But, you could’t keep running away and hiding before his claws of worry would grab your flesh. He wanted to know why you were so distant towards him. But every time you two had a conversation you tried to speak as less as possible, hoping the conversation would end soon.

You went into the classroom and took the seat at the back. How long would this carry on? When Mr. Auditore walked into the classroom, he glanced your way and you saw that he was a bit surprised by your choice of seat. This was very unusual for you. In iterature you were one of the students that would sit at the front row, so he would choose you and listen to your answers. As said, it was unusual for you.

It felt like time was feeling bold and went at the pace of a snail to annoy you. During the whole lesson you either stared out of the window or read your book underneath the table. Even though Mr. Auditore saw how you didn’t focused on his lesson, he didn’t ask you to pay attention.

You were glad that the bell rung and dismissed you all. Or so you thought. ‘Signorina (Y/N),’ You reluctantly turned away from the door to look at him. ‘I want you to stay for a few moments.’ The little lamb has been caught by the claws of the lion. You saw a few students raise their eyebrows when he called you signorina as if it was the first time they heard him speaking Italian.

The last student left and Mr. Auditore closed the door. He turned around to look at you. His eyes were full with concern and confusion. ‘I have noticed that you do nt pay attention to my last lessons. You either way drifted back into dreamland or you were reading the book I gave you,’ You were nailed to the ground. Yu knew that he would’ve confronted you with in one day, but you never thought about what you would say. You were too focused on distancing your bond. ‘I thought you promised me to not drift away’ you didn’t know what to say next. Your mouth felt dry and you fumbled with your sleeve because of the nervousness. ‘I’m sorry for that. I will not drift away during your lessons. I promise, trully.’ He nodded his head and silently repeated the word ‘Sorry’ but it was audible for you to hear. ‘Sorry doesn’t explain why you have been acting so distant lately.’ You tried to look innocent. ‘What do you mean, sir?’

‘Oh stop playing (Y/N). You know what is going on and as your teacher I am concerned about you and your education.’ He hesitated when he said that he was only your teacher. You kept quiet. ‘Is there anything that has happened in your private life? Is there something that you deal with? You can always tell me, (Y/N). I am trying my best to understand your problem so I can help you.’ You felt how your heart melted by his kindness. You realized how foolish you were. All of this was because you denied the feelings you had for him. You foolish, little girl.

‘I am not dealing with anything, it’s kind off silly.’

‘What seems silly for others may be difficult for you.’ His eyes pierced yours. You felt yourself drowning in the pool of his honey-coloured eyes. You bit your lips.

‘Is it because of that boy.’ He said, almost whispering. His hot breath caressed your cheek, and that was when you realized how close he was. You nodded. ‘yes.’ You whispered. He placed his hands on your cheek and sought permission in your eyes. His hands felt rough against your soft cheek, Your face fitted in his palm. ‘What a foolish boy.’ your permission was given by not shoving his hands away, so he slowly came closer with his face until his soft lips were pressed against yours. It begin softly. But the longer you kissed, the more passionate it became. His free hand grabbed your thigh and placed you upon his desk. He bit your lower lip, letting a small moan escape from your mouth. His warm and humid tongue stroked your lower lip, asking for permission to enter your mouth. You opened your mouth and your tongues dance with each other as he pressed you closer to him. Your legs rested around his waist as his chest and the growing bulge in his pants pressed against you. The feeling of how exited he was made your underwear leak. His hand trailed from your thigh up yo your lower stomach, reaching underneath your blouse while he began kissing your neck. He went lower with his mouth until he reached your collarbone, with every kiss he sucked and bit on your skin.

But you two were nailed in your positions as you heard footsteps coming towards the classroom. Dissapointend, you jumped of the desk and flattened your clothing with your hand before hiding the bite marks with your hair.

The door swung open, revaling Mrs. Campbell. ‘(Y/N), what are you still doing here? School finished 10 minutes ago.’ Mrs Campbell switched her gaze from you to Mr Auditore in suspicion. ‘Well, she wrote a story and wanted me to judge and criticize it. She is pretty good I must say.’ Mrs Campbell nodded.

‘Okay then. But Ezio, make sure to come to the meeting on time. The principle asked met to look for you.’ You felt a bit uncomfortable and slipped away. but before your presence vanished you gave Ezio a wink before slipping off. Satisfied with the blush on his face.

#assassins creed #assassins creed fanfiction #ac ii #ac revelations #ezio x reader #ezio auditore x reader #teacher x student

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