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dark-fics-4-you · 1 day

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Crying in the Country Club ch. V

dark!Rafe Cameron x dark!Reader

Warnings: smut, p in v sex, oral (m!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, lying about birth control, baby trapping, mention of previous attempted assault, public sex, infidelity, manipulative and aggressive behavior, breeding kink, slight burn injury

Stepping out onto the Cameron’s back patio, you were pleased to find that the forecast was spot on. It was definitely warm enough to go swimming.

Your gaze settled on the glimmering pool, before looking around the backyard to spot Mr. Cameron.

Your mom and Rebecca were sitting on the porch swing, seemingly engrossed in conversation, but you didn’t miss the way Rebecca subtly gave your body a once over before nervously glancing over at her husband.

Nearing Rafe and your dad by the grill, you paused to ask what was on the menu for tonight.

You grinned sweetly at Rafe, enjoying watching his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed after taking you in.

Not wanting to waste an opportunity to get him flustered, you had chosen one of your more revealing swimsuits, a strappy dark teal green bikini paired with a teal blue wrap skirt that left little to the imagination.

“Just some burgers and hot dogs, Y/N,” your dad answered with a smile, not noticing his best friend beside him clenching his jaw tighter than before.

“Cool! Um, can I have a burger, with cheese?” You asked.

“You got it,” he answered. “But it’ll probably be about half an hour before we start cooking.”

“Okay!”

As you walked past them towards the pool, you unsuccessfully tried to stop yourself from glancing back to sneak another peak of Mr. Cameron, and you felt your heart skip a beat when you caught him staring at you as you left.

Your cheeks were flushed when you reached the chair where Charlie was lounging, and she raised a curious eyebrow when you greeted her.

“Are you getting burnt already?”

“No,” you laughed, reaching to your waist to peel off your wrap skirt. “But I could use a little sunscreen.”

Charlie grabbed the bottle beside her and passed it to you.

You thanked her as you poured some into your hands to start spreading onto your face. After making sure it was all rubbed in, you squirted more into your hands to massage into your chest and shoulders.

Tossing a glance over your shoulder, you were unsurprised to see Rafe staring again, and you made a little show of rubbing the oily lotion across your cleavage as you pretended not to notice him.

It had only been a week since you had snuck into his room after the party and it had been nearly impossible to stay away from Mr. Cameron.

Your waking hours had been possessed by daydreaming about Rafe. Imagining him catching you in the house, pining you to the wall with a large hand clamped over your mouth and fucking you while you had to stay quiet to avoid being caught was a frequent fantasy of yours, one that you really hoped he would act out on you.

But your imagination stretched further than just that. You couldn’t help but insert yourself into scenes of domesticity with him. You liked picturing the two of you in the cameron household together. Rafe would praise you for cooking dinner, wrapping his arms around you, before a protective hand settled on your swollen belly.

Ever since the party, you had felt more determined than ever to have his child.

You knew that he was off limits on so many levels, he was your father’s best friend and your best friend’s dad (not to mention he was married and more than twice your age), but deep down you knew that the depravity of it all was exactly what drew you to Rafe in the first place.

Although, it wasn’t like Charlie had been the best friend to you recently. You were still somewhat pissed off that she had let you stay out at that party where you had been attacked alone.

You shuddered thinking about what might have happened if Mr. Cameron hadn’t arrived in time to save you.

As quickly as the thought arose, you buried it, not wanting to get caught up thinking about what had happened at the party.

What had happened after the party was of much more interest to you.

You could still remember how amazing it felt to come undone around him and how desperately he had kissed you that night. Goosebumps erupted across your skin when you recalled how Rafe had sounded groaning your name as you squeezed around him.

God you wished that he had finished inside of you; although you couldn’t deny how hot it was to be covered in his seed.

A heat was rising inside of you, and you knew that it wasn’t just from the hot Carolina sun.

Throwing another glance towards the porch, you could see your dad and Mr. Cameron beginning to grill the burgers and hot dogs, while your mom and Mrs. Cameron were still chatting on the swing.

Pressing the back of your hand to your forehead, you could feel the sweat beginning to form and you knew it was time to cool off.

Leaving your wrap skirt behind, you left the pool to approach the house, watching Rafe as you got closer.

His jaw clenched when he spotted you, interrupting his sentence midway as he lost his train of thought.

Your dad turned to see what had distracted Rafe, shooting you a confused and questioning look.

“I’m getting really hot,” you explained, not missing the way Rafe’s hungry gaze had swept over your body. “Do you have any ice cream?”

Your question was aimed at Rafe, who you innocently smiled at, and you felt triumphant when he stumbled over his words.

“Um y-yeah, Y/N, there’s some um.” He paused, trying to collect himself in front of your father without drawing any suspicion. “Some popsicles in the… um in the freezer.”

“Oh, that’s perfect, thanks!” You grinned before continuing to the back door.

Rafe stared at you, watching the way your ass moved when you walked. His mouth was watering, jaw clenched so tight it was amazing it didn’t snap off. He was so distracted, he wasn’t looking when his arm got a little too close to the grill.

Inside the kitchen, you walked up to their large fridge, opening the freezer section before looking around for the popsicles Rafe had mentioned.

You grabbed a cherry flavored one out of the bag and took off its wrapper before sliding it between your lips.

The sweet, refreshing treat hit the spot, beginning to cool you down instantly.

You heard the door open and you turned to see who had followed you inside, not surprised to see Rafe.

But you weren’t expecting him to rush to the sink to run cold water over a fresh, red burn right below his elbow.

“Shit-!” He cursed, exhaling lowly as the cool water soothed the burn. You could tell it wasn’t too bad of an injury.

“You can’t be pulling shit like that in front of me, kid,” Rafe scolded you. “Especially not when your dad is standing right next to me, fuck!”

He finally turned to look at you, and his breath hitched as he watched you suggestively slide the popsicle across your lips, staining them red with the melting juices.

“You hurt yourself?” You asked with wide concerned eyes.

Rafe’s jaw clenched before he licked his lips, staring down at you with an obvious mixture of annoyance and arousal.

“How did that happen?” You lightly teased, reaching a hand out to touch his unburned arm. You slid your fingers over his muscles as you drew closer, sucking on the cherry popsicle as you stared up at him through your lashes.

Your heart was racing, you were just so excited to finally be alone with him again.

“It was your fucking fault, Y/N-” he snapped, grabbing your wrist with a tight grip before suddenly stopping himself and releasing you.

You were surprised by the force behind his grip, but Rafe had let you go before you could even protest, and he stared down at you as he breathed heavily. You could tell he was trying to hold himself back by the veins that bulged near his temples and in his neck.

“Shit, I’m sorry, but you’re not making it any easier for me when you walk around my place wearing…” he trailed off as he gestured at your bikini. “It’s distracting.”

“Oh, sorry, Mr. Cameron,” you purred, noticing his eye twitch when you called him ‘Mr. Cameron.’

“Are you trying to get us caught?”

You rolled your eyes, but he continued.

“Y/D/N would fucking kill me if he had any idea of what we did-”

“I know, I know,” you frowned, not liking feeling like Rafe was chiding you like a kid.

He noticed the change in your tone of voice, letting out a sigh before wrapping his good arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him. His fingertips danced over your exposed skin and you leaned your head against his chest, thrilled to have such close contact with him.

“I’m just saying, we need to be careful. There’s no need for anyone to know what happened. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

You gave yourself a once over in the mirror before leaving, feeling confident in your pale pink mini skirt and matching polo sweater.

Walking through the living room, you let your parent’s know you were going golfing with Rafe before you ducked into the garage to grab your clubs.

After a short drive, you parked in the Cameron’s driveway, waving at Rafe as you got out of your car.

He was leaning against his golf cart waiting for you when you walked out, and he offered to take the heavy bag from you to load it into the back.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, sweetheart.” He looked you up and down again, clearly pleased with your outfit choice. “You look very nice.”

You beamed as you climbed into the passenger seat, scooting closer to Rafe as he backed out of the driveway and started heading for the course.

Looking out at the greens as you approached, you noticed how few players were out today. It must have been because of how hot it was.

You fanned yourself with your hand as Rafe pulled up to the first hole and parked under some trees.

After stepping out of the golf cart, you grabbed your driver out of your bag, thanking Mr. Cameron when he handed you a tee and a ball before stepping onto the green.

“Let’s see if you’ve improved anymore since we last played, huh?” Rafe teased with a grin. “Have you been practicing?”

“Yes sir,” you replied playfully. You bent down to place your tee into the ground and set up the ball, hoping that Rafe would get a peek of your white panties under your skirt.

“Remember what I told you la-” his voice caught in his throat as he caught a glimpse of your underwear.

“What’s that?” You asked him sweetly, correcting your posture so you could turn and meet his eyes with an innocent smile.

“Um-” Rafe paused, his adam’s apple bobbing as he dryly swallowed. “Here, turn around again.”

You followed his instructions, turning your back to him as he pressed closer to adjust your form.

“You gotta keep your legs just a bit further apart, kid.” Rafe reached a hand down to your thigh, pressing gently on your exposed skin just below your skirt to urge you to spread your legs.

“Yeah, you want to have good balance,” his deep voice from behind and his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and goosebumps rose where he had brushed your upper thigh.

“And then you need to lean back just a little bit.”

His hands found your hips, pulling you back towards him, and you let out a quiet moan when you felt him press his hard on against your ass.

“Make sure you’re gripping the club the right way, sweetheart,” his voice strained as he ground his hard on against your core.

Your brain was getting fuzzy and you could feel a wet patch on your panties getting damper. You fumbled with the golf club, trying to get a better grip on it because your palms were beginning to feel so sweaty.

Finally, you managed to swing and hit the ball, but Rafe didn’t even wait to see where it went, easily scooping you up into his arms and rushing to carry you back to the golf cart, pressing hot kisses into your neck the entire way.

He put you down onto the seat but you surprised him when you moved to the floor of the cart on your knees in between his legs.

You palmed his cock through his shorts and he groaned, eagerly reaching for his button and zipper.

Rafe freed his erection from his boxers and your mouth watered at the sight of him.

The night you had snuck into his room, you had been so desperate to feel him inside of you that you hadn’t had the chance to stop and really look at him.

You reached out, wrapping your hand around the base of his length. His dick was probably around 8 inches, maybe more, and girthy, with a long vein bulging out and leading to his cut tip.

He was breathing heavily, eyes widening when you pursed your lips, letting a string of saliva drip onto his hard cock before meeting his eyes again.

Rafe watched as you slowly stroked him, once, twice, and then a third time.

You licked your lips before parting them and your hot tongue met his tip, licking off the bead of precum that had gathered there. He tasted salty and he let out a moan as he watched your eyes roll back in your head from the taste.

As your soft lips wrapped around him, the older man’s hand tangled into your hair, pushing you down to take more of him as his hips shifted upwards. You pressed your tongue flat against the bottom of your mouth, stretching your lips to accommodate his size.

“There you go, Y/N. Fuck, that’s a good girl,” his grip on your hair tightened the deeper he inched forward, and you looked up at him through your lashes as your eyes began to water.

When he hit the back of your throat, you gagged, choking on his length when he held you in place for a few moments.

You looked up at him with wide, surprised teary eyes, and Rafe couldn’t hold back his groan.

“You can take it.” His gruff voice only stirred your need to prove yourself to him, and the hot tears that you blinked away barely registered in your mind.

When he finally released you, he slid his cock out enough for you to take a breath before he pushed himself in again, even deeper than the last time.

“God, you’re doing so good f’me angel,” he groaned, and you squeezed your thighs together when you felt yourself grow slicker from his praise.

Tears kissed your waterline as his fingers threaded through your hair. Your core practically pulsed with want and you brought your free hand between your legs, teasing your clit over your soaked panties as you continued bobbing your head up and down the length of his cock.

Spit collected at the corner of your lips, dribbling down your chin as Rafe’s hand guided you faster.

Unable to ignore the burning desire between your legs anymore, you pulled away, climbing onto his lap and sloppily kissing him before he could ask what you were doing.

Rafe kissed you back, his large hands coming to your hips and held you in place so he could grind against your core.

He groaned into the kiss, but pulled back with a disappointed look on his face, and your heart started to sink before he spoke.

“We don’t have condoms-“ he started but you cut him off.

“I’m on birth control.”

The lie slipped out easier than you expected, but you weren’t entirely sure if Rafe would believe you. Or if he would insist you use a condom anyway.

For a few heart pounding moments he just stared at you with a strange look before finally breaking into a cocky grin.

“Shit, you should have told me that last week sweetheart,” Rafe growled, already reaching his hand beneath your skirt to pull your panties to the side.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you couldn’t linger on them for long because Rafe’s hands were on your hips, lining himself up with your slick entrance and slowly pushing you down onto his cock.

The sharp gasp that fell past your lips was quickly muffled when the older man’s hand clamped over your mouth. You whimpered against him as he filled you up, enjoying the way he stretched you out from this angle.

Trying to ground yourself, you slid your arm above his shoulder and around the back of his neck. When he bottomed out and held you in place, fingers gripping your hips so hard it almost hurt, you squirmed in his lap, desperately needing some kind of friction.

“Squeezin’ me so tight-" he groaned through gritted teeth.

He withdrew his hand from your mouth, trailing it to your hips before crawling under your shirt and grasping at your waist. Trails of hot fire danced on your skin where he touched you, and you felt almost delirious with want.

Your pleading eyes met his as you tried to grind your hips against him, and you felt him pulse inside you at the sound of your quieted whimpers.

Rafe kept his eyes locked on yours as his hips started to move, finally giving you the stimulation that you so badly needed.

You met each stroke with the tilt of your hips as he thrusted deep inside you, cheeks burning as you felt yourself dripping around him.

His lips found yours again and when his tongue pushed its way into your mouth, you moaned against the kiss, clenching tight around his length as he snapped his hips against yours.

Rafe broke the kiss, letting his lips meet your neck before mumbling against your skin, “Gotta be quiet, yeah?”

You bit your lip, trying to stop your whimpers and soft cries of pleasure. Rafe’s hands had left your waist and were now creeping under your skirt to grasp at your thighs, fingertips digging into your soft flesh.

His lips were still attached to your neck, nipping and sucking on the tender skin as your hips met his every thrust.

In the back of your mind, you knew that you probably should have been more worried about getting caught, but the feeling of Rafe’s cock dragging along your snug walls made you forget all of your worries.

He slid one hand between your legs, thumb circling around your clit.

Your moan was smothered by his lips, and you eagerly bucked your hips into his touch as he picked up his pace.

Looking into his eyes, you could help but feel your heart skip a beat. You felt like you were being seen for the first time, and you couldn’t stop the strong surge of emotions that rose in your chest.

You had been trying to ignore what you thought could have been just irrational feelings for years, but now you couldn’t help but feel that they hadn’t been so irrational after all.

With every push of his cock, you felt more and more sure that Rafe was finally starting to see you the way you saw him.

Rafe Cameron was more than a passing crush to you, and you had never intended to just be an affair to him.

You loved him so deeply that at times it scared you how far you were willing to go to make him yours.

“I haven’t been able to get you off my mind all week,” he groaned, thumb pressing harder against your clit as his hips snapped against yours.

Your pulse skipped a beat at his confession and you wondered if sex had been the only thing he had been thinking about or if he wanted more.

The heat building between your legs was undeniable now, and the sudden thought of Rafe finally coming inside you made you clench down around him.

“You feel s-so good,” you whispered, eyes rolling back in your head when he hit a spot deep inside you; and you could feel yourself getting wetter with each stroke of his cock.

You gripped his back as the pad of his thumb swirled around your clit and you tilted your head up to kiss him again.

Rafe pushed his tongue past your lips, tasting the inside of your mouth and the pressure building between your legs finally became too much.

You squirmed in his arms as you came around him, but Rafe never slowed his tempo, holding you in place as you pulsed around him, squeezing his cock as your orgasm washed over you.

The older man tightened his grip on your hips, thrusting harder and harder until his hips finally stuttered and he spilled his hot sticky seed deep inside you with a low groan.

Feeling Rafe cum inside you for the first time was enough to send you over the edge a second time and you tensed in his lap as you came around him again.

Trying to catch your breath was a challenge and you didn’t want to get off of his lap, but Rafe lifted you up, pulling your soaked panties back into place before sitting you down next to him in the cart as he tucked himself back into his shorts.

He looked around the course for a moment, and then he met your gaze, reaching a hand up to stroke your cheek as your heart beat loudly in your chest.

“C’mon kid, we got a round of golf to finish,” he smirked.

#dark!rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x reader #citcc #crying in the country club #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x dark!reader #dark!rafe cameron x dark!reader

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grandline-fics · 2 days

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Could you please write a gn reader with Crocodile, Kid and Buggy hurting them while controlled?

DESCRIPTION: They hurt you while controlled by a devil fruit

WARNINGS: angst, descriptions of injury, hurt to comfort

CHARACTERS: Zoro, Law, Shanks, Mihawk | Luffy, Ace, Sabo | Crocodile, Kid

WORDS: 1,946

A/N: Thank you for requesting! This seems to be a popular request. I mean who doesn't love some hurt/comfort themed angst. Only managed to get something thought up for with Crocodile and Kid. I'll get one for Buggy done soon and include it with one of the other characters requested. Hope you like what I came up with!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

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CROCODILE

Crocodile was never a stranger to violence or bloodlust when the fighting got intense but this was intense. This was all consuming and possessive, this anger and desire to obliterate anything and everything in his path took hold of him so fiercely. In the haze he was faintly aware of voices calling for him, trying to appeal to his better nature, urging him to calm before he hurt those he was allied with but he didn’t listen, part of him didn’t want to listen. It had been a while since he got to truly go all out like this. Slowly he felt the violent waves coursing through his blood begin to pull back and clarity began to return to his mind and then he felt the familiar warmth of your body against his. Crocodile looked down at you and for a moment it would have been easily mistaken for a soft embrace between you both.

However as he came to his senses he finally saw the hazy, unfocused look in your pained eyes and felt the slowly dampening of his shirt cuff that met the base of his hook. The sense of dread that overcame Crocodile felt so much worse and far more intense than his earlier rush of unexplained savagery. He could hear the slow almost rhythmic dripping of your blood hitting the ground and it mixed painfully with your struggled breaths, weak and thready. He moved to get a better look only to stop when your shaking hand touched his cheek. Crocodile reluctantly met your gaze and tensed to see you let out a shuddering sigh of relief and your trembling lips fell into smile. “Cr…croc…y-you’re back. Good.”

Good? Good?! Even now you were concerned for him? It seemed as though you had forced yourself to stay conscious long enough to ensure he’d returned to his usual self because as soon as you’d confirmed it your already weakened body slumped against his, completely unconscious. Immediately Crocodile sprung into action, barking commands for any and all those around him to clean up the destruction he’d caused while those that had medical training saw to you first and any others he’d hurt second. You were his priority. When he’d safely transferred you to the care of the medics while also having to remove his hook from his arm he turned to those he trusted most to explain what had happened.

It turned out someone from his past held a grudge fiercer than he’d given them credit for and sent one of their subordinates to deal with Crocodile for his past doings. While they had only been told to kill the former Warlord, the subordinate’s Devil Fruit had presented a much more enticing method to inflict Crocodile’s punishment. While disguised, they’d managed to get close enough to place Crocodile under their influence and command him to cause as much carnage as possible. The Devil Fruit user had been dealt with when they tried to escape Cross Guild but even then their power had a time limit and in that time, Crocodile had wrought destruction that only proved how fearsome a man he really was under the fine clothes and practiced patience your influence had formed in him over the years.

Through the time you lay sleeping, Crocodile remained sat at his desk in the bedroom deciding to throw himself into the distraction of work while also remaining close. He still refused to reattach his hook. Every time he so much as looked at it, despite it having been cleaned and polished so intensely he could only see it still covered in your blood and it actually sickened him. Had it been anyone else he’d gored with his signature prosthetic he wouldn’t have bat an eye. Hell he didn’t even feel guilty about the others who’d been injured in his rampage, it was only how he nearly killed you that haunted him. He’d been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice you’d woken until you were trying to sit up in the bed. Immediately he dispersed his body into sand and was across the room in an instant. “Slowly, love. Just sit back and rest.”

“Where’s your hook?” You asked weakly, eyebrows pulling together in confusion as you let him coax you back against the propped up pillows. Crocodile studied your face carefully but the small scowl on his lips told you he wasn’t going to answer. “This has really shaken you, hasn’t it?”

“You’re the only thing that I’d consider that makes me vulnerable. To be the one responsible for this…” he paused to glanced down, knowing the severe injury now hidden by your clothes and bandages. “I suppose even I can be shakable in those circumstances.”

“I understand. Just don’t let it haunt you for too long, okay?” You asked, leaning in to his touch when his hand cupped your face gently. Crocodile took a long steadying breath and nodded, pulling his hand away from your face to reach into the inside of his coat and hesitantly pulled out his hook and into view. Through it all he watched your expression carefully in case the sight of it drew out your true subconscious feelings of fear over the fact this was the weapon that could have killed you. Instead you gently took it to assist reattaching it, smiling wide when it clicked into place.

KID

“What’s happened now?!” You shouted over the high pitched shriek of Kid’s magnetic powers kicked into a fiercer frequency. You and the rest of the crew had engaged in a full scale battle that had been going smoothly. Your opponents weren’t pushovers but they weren’t exactly the strongest people you’d ever fought. It was enough to be fun and still break a slight sweat, the perfect balance you thought. Just as things seemed to have been winding down, Kid’s outburst of mounting power erupted as if from nowhere with no discernible reason why. You let out a gasp of shock and dodged just in time as a large shard of metal cut through the air. You looked to your second in command, the one who’d been closest to Kid through the fight. “Killer?!”

“Something’s up with Kid!” Killer shouted, also taking cover. “We took the bastard down but he got one last hit in. That’s when Kid started acting weird!” You took a chance and looked out from around the wall you’d ducked behind to see Kid’s face was completely unreadable but the overwhelming need for destruction and violence was suffocating. You’d experienced Kid at his angriest but this was something else entirely. Normally he’d get lost in the fight and yell but it unnerved you to hear nothing from him and see his usually burning gaze dulled and darkened. This wasn’t Kid. This wasn’t your Kid. Licking your dry lips, you tightened your hands into fists and wordlessly caught Killer’s attention once more. Silently you both seemed to have the same thought. With a firm nod you both broke out from your covers and acted.

Kid’s head was throbbing and his vision blurred as it slowly began to sharpen again. This felt like the world’s worst hangover combined with being hit with a full Marine ship. His limbs all but screamed in agony and he couldn’t shake the ringing in his ears. Dully he could make out the muffled yells of someone calling his name. In whoosh, his hearing snapped back to normal as Killer bellowed out his name. “Kid! Snap out of it before you kill them, please!”

Looking over he saw Killer pinned against the wall, his blades magnetised to the surface and stopping him from breaking free. Confused about why his power would restrain his best friend he quickly broke it, watching Killer drop to his ground. The second he was free, Killer sped across the distance and barrelled hard into his Captain in the hopes of releasing his metal hand. Only now did Kid recall Killer’s yell and he looked down to see you lying at his feet. Horror filled Kid as he saw you bloodied and unconscious, your body being squeezed in his bulked metal hand. Immediately he let go of you and staggered back. No, this couldn’t be happening. How did this happen?

Through you time recovering Kid kept his distance. At first while you were unconscious and he knew you’d be okay with time he’d tried to force himself to act like this hadn’t affected him. The crew had reassured him that he wasn't to blame for any of it and on the outside he’d agreed but that first night when he went to check on your still sleeping form he all but broke down. Of what he could see of your body was flared with dark purple and your face was twisted in discomfort. Everyone in the ship had suffered horrible injuries in the past, that was nothing new and to be expected. As much as he tried to find reason behind it and use his bravado to seem like the same old Kid, he felt sick to his stomach at his actions. The guilt was unbearable and he couldn’t bring himself to be near you and was secretly glad you’d been put on the strictest bed rest until you were given a full all clear. Kid had planned to use that time to get his head on straight. Sadly it never came.

Every night since that day he hurt you he was plagued with nightmares. Some just filled with the sight of your body crushed by his hand. Others took the already painful experience further and twisted it to the point he’d dreamt he’d killed you. The end was always the same, he’d wake with a gasp and drenched in a cold sweat unable to breathe. One night after waking from the nightmare he jumped at the sound of a knock at his door. Slowly he rose and opened the door only to freeze to see you standing there. “Y-you should be in bed. You’re still healing.”

“If anyone needs healing it’s you.” You told him softly, your eyes scanning his haunted expression sadly. When Kid opened his mouth to argue, you held up a hand to stop him, immediately he shut his mouth. You stepped into Kids room and took his hand in yours, leading him to his bed and making him lie down before you settled into the space beside him, curling up and settling your hand on his chest. Before you’d gotten hurt it wasn’t rare for you and Kid to nap together on the deck when the mornings were slow so you were both used to this position, even if being in his bed at night made things more intimate. Still you felt how tense he was and sighed. “What’s done is done and if I knew how this would have gone…I’d still have done what I did to try and save you. I only regret how much this is eating you up. Just focus on my breathing, Kid. I’m still alive. I’m here with you.”

“That nearly wasn’t the case. I almost killed you.” Kid felt the panic claw at his chest, this was the first time he’d spoken the words. The first time he’d spoken to you since…”I’m so sorry.”

“Shhh. Just sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.” Your voice was as warm as always, no hint of hatred for him in your tone. Reluctantly Kid settled his arm around you and closed his eyes, falling into the best night’s sleep he’d had in a long while with no more nightmares to haunt him.

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writeriguess · 2 days

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Could you write something with Love and Deepspace Sylus x female reader, where they are always bickering and reader has a huge crush on him but she thinks he hates her. But one day, after Sylus sees her being tender with someone else, he gets so incredibly jealous of her and they have a makeout session against the wall.

The ship hummed quietly beneath your feet, its distant sounds blending with the ambient noise of the deep space beyond the hull. You sat at one of the control panels, fingers deftly typing in commands. Everything on board was routine—far too routine, considering the heated tension that had been building over the past few weeks.

"Are you even paying attention, or are you just pretending to know what you're doing again?"

His voice cut through the silence like a sharp blade, and you rolled your eyes before turning around, already anticipating the sight that greeted you. Sylus leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, that smug expression of his plastered on his face. His fiery red eyes gleamed under the dim lights, standing out against his pale, almost ghostly white hair that framed his angular face. His lips curved upward, taunting, always taunting.

"Well, look who's finally decided to grace us with his presence," you shot back, unable to resist the usual banter. It had become second nature by now, the back and forth, the teasing, the bickering. Sylus always had a way of getting under your skin, and you hated how easily he did it. Worse yet, you hated how it made your pulse race, how it made your heart stutter every time he was near.

He sauntered over to your side, leaning close enough that you could feel the heat of his body. His breath tickled the side of your neck, but you didn’t dare show how much it affected you.

"If you mess up one more time, I swear I'll—"

"You'll what?" You snapped, spinning in your chair to face him. The space between you was minimal now, the tension palpable. His smirk widened, and those red eyes narrowed slightly, as though he was enjoying how easily he could rile you up.

"I'll take over, obviously. Can't have someone as incompetent as you handling sensitive equipment." His voice dripped with mockery, but there was something else there—something darker, something unspoken. And for a split second, his gaze flickered, betraying an emotion that was neither mockery nor irritation. It was gone as soon as it appeared, leaving you questioning if you’d imagined it.

"I think I can handle myself just fine, thanks," you muttered, trying to ignore the way his presence made you feel. Every time he was near, it was like your nerves were on fire, every word out of his mouth was like gasoline to the flame that burned deep within you.

The truth was, you had a huge, embarrassingly intense crush on Sylus. But he made it impossible for you to act on it—he was always pushing you, always teasing, always acting as if you were beneath him. There were days when you wondered if he truly hated you, and others when you thought, just maybe, he might feel something different. But then he'd pull some stunt like this, and you'd remind yourself that it was probably all in your head.

You stood up abruptly, needing to put some distance between you before you lost control of the situation—before you gave away too much. "If you're so worried about it, why don't you handle the panel yourself?"

His smirk widened, but you didn’t stick around long enough for him to respond. You strode out of the control room, down the narrow hallway of the ship, your heart pounding far too hard for what should have been a simple interaction.

You needed to get a grip. Sylus was nothing but trouble, and you knew it. Yet, you couldn’t help the way your stomach flipped every time he was near. It was pathetic, really, but that didn’t stop the way your thoughts constantly drifted back to him.

Several hours passed before you found yourself in the ship’s common area, trying to distract yourself by talking to one of the crewmembers. He was a newer recruit, younger, eager to please, and he hung onto your every word. You laughed at something he said, a soft sound, but genuine. It felt good to relax, to have a moment where you weren’t constantly on edge.

That was, until you felt the weight of a familiar gaze on you.

Sylus stood at the entrance to the common room, his eyes locked on the two of you, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—those crimson eyes—burned with something dangerous. You could feel the intensity from across the room, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

You tried to ignore him, turning your attention back to the conversation, but it was impossible. Sylus was like a storm, unpredictable and overwhelming, and you were helpless to escape it.

After a few minutes, you excused yourself from the conversation, your nerves frayed by the feeling of Sylus’s gaze still boring into you. As you moved to leave the room, you barely made it past the door before a hand grabbed your wrist, yanking you sharply to the side. You were slammed up against the wall, the breath knocked out of you as Sylus’s body pressed against yours, trapping you between the cold metal wall and the heat of his presence.

"Sylus, what the hell—"

"You think I don’t see what you're doing?" His voice was low, dangerously quiet, but filled with something wild, something possessive. His eyes were darker now, the red burning brighter, and the usual cocky smirk was gone, replaced by something raw and fierce. "You think I didn’t notice you laughing with him? Touching him?"

You blinked, taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

"Don’t play dumb with me." His grip on your wrist tightened, and you could feel his breath against your skin, harsh and uneven. "You think I’ll just stand by while you… while you act like that with someone else?"

Your mind raced, trying to piece together what he was saying. Was he—was he jealous?

"Sylus, it was nothing. I was just talking to him."

"Talking?" His lips curled in a sneer, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes, a fear, even. "That’s not what it looked like."

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could say anything, his lips crashed down on yours, rough and demanding. Your body tensed in shock, but it only took a second for your instincts to take over. You kissed him back, hard, matching his intensity, your fingers gripping his shirt as his body pressed tighter against yours.

His hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place as his lips moved over yours with a fierce hunger, as though he’d been holding back for far too long. The kiss was messy, desperate, both of you pouring weeks—no, months—of pent-up tension and frustration into it.

You gasped as his teeth grazed your lower lip, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue invading your mouth, claiming you. Your head spun, overwhelmed by the sheer force of him, of the way his body moved against yours, pinning you so completely to the wall.

Every touch, every movement was filled with heat, with want. His hand slid down your side, gripping your waist possessively, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear to have even an inch of space between you. His other hand tangled in your hair, tugging slightly, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, but he didn’t stop. His lips moved to your neck, hot and insistent, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your lips as he sucked at the sensitive skin just below your ear.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he growled against your skin, his voice rough, filled with an emotion you hadn’t expected—desire, need, and something more. "No idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you."

Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind reeling. Sylus—arrogant, infuriating Sylus—wanted you? You didn’t have time to process it before his lips found yours again, and you were lost in the intensity of the moment, in the way his body moved against yours, demanding, unrelenting.

And in that moment, you realized that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t hate you after all.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like at once.

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vivwritescrappythings · 2 days

Text

sworn sword

knight!könig x plus-size!fem!reader

part 1

there has been civil unrest in the kingdom, prompting the king and your father to hire a knight to protect you. thankfully it is a knight you already know.

tw: fem reader, plus size reader, mentions of body image, not proofread

wc: 1.8k

masterlist

—

“The king insisted upon having a knight guard you,” your father said, hands clasped behind his back as he faced you.

He stood in front of the large windows overlooking the courtyard and the rose gardens. Your father had been appointed to the King’s Counsel, moving himself and you to the royal palace while your mother stayed behind to handle the estate and your sister’s wedding to Ser Garrick.

You were brought along to the palace with the hope that it would make finding a husband easier. Of course it was quite the same as at home, just the competition broadened from just your sister to the entirety of the other women at court. You were still too soft around the edges while the other women were willowy and slight in their gowns.

It was hard to hold a candle to them.

“A knight?” You were hardly important enough to warrant a knight being hired to keep track of you. Perhaps a City Guard member would make more sense, but a knight was far too grand.

The king was being cautious. There had been a few attacks on members of the castle as of late—a lord on the counsel was roughed up outside of a pleasure house, and a few servants had been robbed of their coin for their daily shopping. There had been plenty of unrest in the kingdom after the death of the queen, the poor becoming poorer as the king scrambled for some semblance of control.

Your father gave you a look, silencing your next protest as you closed your mouth. Living in the palace already made you feel like a bug caught in a jar, eyes constantly scrutinizing your every move… every word. A personal knight would only make that worse, a shadow to follow you for every moment of every day.

“He has already been selected, so save your arguments.” Your eyebrows lifted, hands folded primly in your lap as you waited for your father to continue. The high-backed seat you were in was uncomfortable, arm rests digging into the plush of your things as you crossed your legs at the ankle.

He stopped at his desk and leaned forward to rest his palms on it. There was a moment of contemplation, his lips pursing like he was going to speak. You watched him look up at the large double doors across the room.

“You may enter,” your father called.

The heavy door creaked as it opened, your whole body twisted so you could get a proper view of who entered. The height of his shoulder against the door told you the knight was massive before he even stepped inside fully. The armor looked new, shiny and polished and dent-free—likely freshly gifted from the king himself.

Then rather than a face, a mask with two crude holes cut for eyes in the black fabric came into view above his bulk. Your heart started to race, your gaze meeting Ser Kilgore’s for a brief moment as he clasped his hands behind him and looked down at the stone floor.

“Ser Kilgore has already taken the oath to be your sworn protector,” your father said as you stood. The top of your head hardly reached Ser Kilgore’s shoulder, your eyes widening as you turned to face him.

He had not seemed so massive from the stands at the tourney.

“He will be with you from sun up to sun down until the king deems it safe enough for him to be dismissed.” You still balked at the knight, wondering if he had volunteered or been chosen. Of all the men in the kingdom, your father and the king had selected him. You brought the stuffed bear with you from home, it sat on the window sill in your chambers.

You remembered yourself after a beat of silence. “Thank you, Ser,” you breathed, curtsying even though he was not looking at you.

He let out a grunt of acknowledgement, still as silent as he was at the tourney. You wondered what his voice sounded like as he picked his head up. His blue eyes were piercing, crisp like a stream in winter. You felt pinned in place by his stare, swallowing thickly before averting your own eyes.

Your father shifting some papers on his desk reminded you of his presence.

“Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?” you asked your father, looking at him over your shoulder. He dismissed you with a shake of his head and a wave of his hand, turning his attention to the thick ledgers on his writing desk.

Ser Kilgore opened the door for you, following you into the hall at a few paces behind.

You had no idea what to do with the shadow that loomed over you all day. Ser Kilgore lingered at the edges of rooms and just outside doorways, silent and stoic. He never removed the covering over his face, never spoke. He only observed.

It made you realize just how boring your days were. You spent time with the other noble ladies at court—mostly the daughters of lords and the younger princesses—embroidering and having tea in the garden and gossiping with thinly veiled turns of speech.

Nothing you did warranted his constant protection, that was certain.

Part of you wanted to force him to speak to you–wanted to demand that he answer your questions. He conversed with no one, only nodding or shaking his head with other knights when they stood shoulder to shoulder.

Perhaps he lost his voice in an accident, you imagined gruesome images of Ser Kilgore surviving getting his throat slashed and vocal cords cut. You heard a story of a knight who had his throat crushed by a horse and still lived—could that be your knight?

Your knight. What an odd phrase.

His head was always covered, you had no clue what lingered beneath. But you were certainly curious.

Evening soon fell, your knight dutifully escorting you to your chambers. You walked next to him, his long stride shortened to match yours. It had taken you most of the afternoon to convince him to stop walking a few paces behind like a shadow. At least at your side you could pretend he was a companion rather than a sworn sword.

“Does this assignment bore you?” you finally asked, glancing up at him. It would bore you–watching a noble woman do nothing aside from chatter amongst other women and embroider handkerchiefs and walk the gardens all day seemed miserable.

Ser Kilgore shook his head, his light eyes cutting down to meet your questioning gaze. His eyes were the only part of him not covered: his blonde eyelashes were long and curly, his irises shining like aquamarines, the slivers of pale skin visible against the frayed fabric seemed delicate–there were a few thin edges of scars peeking around the fabric.

How desperately you wanted to pull the hood from his face and see the man underneath. You had been thinking about him ever since the tourney, fantasizing about what he sounded like, what he looked like beneath all of his armor.

You narrowed your eyes at his silent response, head cocking to one side as you inspected him. “Can you speak?” It might have been a rude thing to ask–your mother always informed you that you were far too brash for a respectable noble lady.

It never stopped you before.

He huffed softly–a laugh, you guessed. His eyes creased at the outer corners like he was smiling.

Another nod. You only ever earned yourself nods and head shakes.

“I have not seen you speak to another person all day.” It sounded accusatory rather than a simple observation. Well, you were accusing him. If he could speak, why would he choose silence? You resisted the urge to cross your arms over your chest like a petulant child.

Ser Kilgore shrugged his broad shoulders, still smiling beneath the mask.

You could scream with your frustration.

“Considering that we will be spending the majority of our time together from now on, I would appreciate it if you at least tried to speak with me,” you said, sounding more entitled than you intended to. “Existing in this castle is lonely—I never know who is truly my friend or friend or is simply trying to spy on my family—I would like to have someone to trust.”

Ser Kilgore looked at you for longer this time, head tilted down to take you in properly. You still followed the maze of hallways to your chambers, each one the same: braziers lining the walls and illuminating the tapestries and paintings hung up, sometimes there was the odd statue. The polished stone floor echoed your footsteps, the hallway otherwise quiet.

He did not shake his head in either direction: no affirmation or denial of your statement. Just a curious gaze taking in your expressions.

He stopped outside the polished wooden doors leading to your chambers, settling with his arms behind his back as he nodded for you to enter. His armor rattled a bit as he moved, the chainmail on his arms catching the light of the braziers lining the walls and throwing shadows across the stone.

“Goodnight, Ser Kilgore,” you finally huffed, slipping between him and the door. You knew you were being petulant like a child that did not get her way. You pouted anyways, lips pulling into a sort of frown.

The door was heavy to pull open, forcing you to put your whole weight into it. Ser Kilgore reached over you, a hand curling around the side of the door and opening it for you.

“Goodnight, my lady,” he responded, surprising you with his deep, accented tone. He sounded like he was from one of the eastern territories. Each vowel was clipped, consonants harsh. “If we are to be friends, call me König.”

You gaped at the sudden sound of his voice, stuck halfway inside the doorway. It was simple enough to tell that he was smiling that time, mirth shining in his eyes as he looked down at you.

A million questions to ask him flooded your mind. It felt like you had to keep him talking now that he spoke, part of you worrying that this opportunity would not occur again. You wanted to ask him why he picked you at the tourney—it had bothered you for months.

“My lady, we have already started heating water for your bath,” your maid Agatha said, drawing your attention. You glanced away from him for a moment, seeing her filling a wooden tub near the hearth with pails of water.

König nodded for you to go in, surveying the slice of the room he could see from the partially open door. The stuffed bear he gave you was visible, set atop a book on the window sill. He stared at it for a moment before redirecting his gaze back to you. You hesitated another moment before taking a step from where you had been rooted moments before.

“Goodnight, König,” you amended, earning a huff of laughter and a nod of acknowledgment as he allowed the door to swing closed behind you.

#konig x plus size reader #konig call of duty #könig x reader #konig cod #konig x you #könig cod #könig call of duty #konig x reader #afab reader #plus size reader #reader insert #knight!konig #medieval au

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wangxianficfinder · 2 days

Text

Fic Finder

Sep 26th

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1. Hi good evening, I'm looking for a wangxian fanfic, where yu ziyuan was Jin guangshan's concubine, if not You already found it, on an old list, and I would love to read it again @glass-madness

FOUND? OOC! by -niehuaisang

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2. Hi there! I've been trying to find this fic to re-read for a while now and I'm hoping that someone else recognizes it (and that it's not deleted!)

I believe it was in the "LWJ marries the Yiling Patriarch" category and there was a Yiling Wei sect or something similar (although it's been a very long time and I don't recall anyone else actually being in the sect so I could be wrong on either/both counts). WWX often went back and forth between the Burial Mounds and Baoshan Sanren's mountain via portal (?) as they were trying to cure Lan Yi of her spiritual malady (?). Last I still remember it was a WIP, and one of the little details that sticks in my mind was that BSSR had gotten WWX doing decorative knotwork to keep his hands busy, so the palace had incredibly intricate pieces, like, everywhere, and he often gifted it to people.

Hopefully that sounds familiar to someone; thank you for all you do! @tevokkia

2 check #17 on this old post, it also mentions knotwork and BSSR and might be what you're looking for

FOUND? 💖🔒love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, immortal WWX, slow burn, pining, arranged marriages)

FOUND? inevitable everything by isabilightwood (E, 193k, WangXian, WQ/MM, JYL/JZX, BSSR/LY, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, but WWX is BSSR's disciple/adoptive grandson too, the cultivation sects think this is a, War Prize AU, it's actually self-arranged marriage, Arranged Marriage, yin iron shenanigans, LWJ Has Friends, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, LWJ Has a YLLZ Kink, Switch WangXian, BDSM, Submissive LWJ, Dominant WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, magical illness of a side character (who will get better), Rope Bondage, Impact Play, Rimming, Bottom LWJ, Temperature Play, Face-Fucking, Breathplay, (talisman-based breathplay to be specific), Cock Warming, Public Scene, no one gets naked in public this is the sense of WWX invents the, Remote Controlled Vibrator, Semi-Public Sex, Outdoor Sex, Blindfolds, one qingmian smut scene with oral and fingering, Minor Character Death, All Sex Scenes Are Skippable!)

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3. Hello! I’m looking for a short fic w 1-3 chapters where there’s canon divergence bc wwx was really pretty due to his dad. I remember in it, when jfm brings him back to the lotus pier, yzy actually denies any rumors of a possible affair bc he looks so much like wcz

I also remeber in it wwx uses his beauty to stop wrh from going into a qi deviation and stops the sun shot campaign as a result

FOUND? The Most Beautiful Man Alive (and his gremlin son) by meyari (T, 4k, WangXian, attempted child molestation (discussed), sexual assault (awareness of the possibility, it doesn't happen ever, beauty as a tool, Smart WWX, Protective JYL, Protective JC, Good Parent JFM, Protective YZY, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies)

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4. Hi, can you please help me find this fic. It’s a modern au where lan zhan and Wei Ying are soulmates. Wei Ying finds out because he saw a painting of Han Guang Jun and thinks his soulmate is dead. He starts to work in the museum operated by xiao xingchen or song lan where they collect stuff that belongs to Han Guang Jun and Yiling Laozu. At the end turns out lan zhan also went to the museum and they kept missing each other because they went at different timings. Thankssss @marshmallowbeats

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5. Hi! I'm looking for a wangxian omegaverse ao3 fic. It's in a futuristic cyber/tech setting where people have machine implants in their bodies. From what I remember the synopsis goes like this: Wei Ying was travelling from one planet to another with a baby a-yuan, his implants fail and Lan Zhan finds them. LZ takes them in and mistakes a-yuan as his biological son with WY. Some other details like the yin tiger seal being an AI and WY having dirt on the Jins. Thank you very much!!!!! @mithesimmer

FOUND? I'll buy you the moon (I'll buy you two) by Thesaurus_with_no_words (E, 27k, WangXian, Science Fiction, Space, Rebels, Space Opera, On the Run, Promoted To Parent, Robots, Androids, Mechs, Battle Mechs, Hurt/Comfort, Technopathy, Willful and Deliberate Baby and Wife Acquisition, Porn With Plot, Mpreg)

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6. hello! idk if this site is still active, but im looking for a mdzs time travel fic where wwx returned during cloud recesses study era. there was a scene where he slits his throat because he thinks its better if he just dies (everyone worries about him including madam yu)

FOUND? 💖 (Un)Hidden truth by Sarah_R (M, 291k, wangxian, major character death, time travel, characters watching their show, suicide attempt, panic attacks, self-harm, nightmares, hurt/comfort, angst, WIP)

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7. looking for a fic modern au established relationship one shot wangxian where lwj gets appendicitis (i think it was that, it was some kind of pain he had to have a procedure for) and he like wakes wwx up next to him so that he can go to the hospital and wwx feels worried/guilty/stressed bc he didn’t notice and lwj didn’t say anything can’t remember the name ! @willesnelson

FOUND? The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad (Valentine’s) Day by GhostySword, Two4Joy (T, 7k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Modern, Established Relationship, Sickfic, Valentine's Day, Hospitalization, Meet the Family, LWJ's Rabbit Children)

FOUND? like bunnies by idleorbitals (T, 4k, WangXian, Modern, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst)

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8. Hello! I had to switch phones and lost all my fanfic open tabs, and I'm trying to remember the names of all of them. One I cannot recall for the life of me was a WIP with only one chapter where during the Burial Mounds Siege Wei Wuxian was basically sort of rescued by Lan Wangji but then put to trial by the cultivation sects and he agreed to be imprisioned as long as they guaranteed A-Yuan's safety. I remember it being a sort of Madam Lan situation, or something. Can you help me?

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9. A) Hi! This is for fic finder. I dont remember much and i dont remember if it was modern with cultivation. Focus on junior quartet. Wen remnant live. They are on summer camp that the jin organized. A-yuan comes to the camp with JWY (im not sure about this). A-yuan then befriended jl, oyzz, ljy. I think they are in the same room (dorm room but its a cottage? I dont know what its called). In group activity, a-yuan sneak up to meet up with wn and the other three sneak up to follow a-yuan. Long story short, a-yuan, ljy, and oyzz is invited to lanling because they are jl friend (either because that or they rescued him). The one that invite them is either jgs or jgy (i think it was jgs). They tried to track wwx but always failed. When jgy comes to the summer camp, they tried to disguise a-yuan as lan diciple but failed. And then jgy found out that a-yuan is wwx son and forced them to go to lanling. In lanling, a-yuan wants to leave and jl, oyzz, and ljy helped. Su She is the one that tracked them down when they tried to run away. Thats all i can remember. Thanks

B) Hi! This is for fic finder. Its a modern with cultivation fic i think. Wen remnant lives and in hiding. Focused on junior quartet. A-yuan comes to summer camp that the jin organized with JWY. A yuan the befriended jl, ljy, and oyzz. They are in the same room (dorm room but a cottage? I dont know what it is called). Jl, ljy, and oyzz is kinda suspicious of a-yuan because he is the only one that are not affliated with a sect. The three of them followed a-yuan in secret when a-yuan sneak up to meet up with wn. Long story short, jgs invited ljy, oyzz, and a-yuan to lanling because they are jl friends. When jgy comes to the camp, they tried to disguise a-yuan as lan diciple and failed. Jgy forced them to go to lanling (honestly i think he kinda kidnapped them). I think he found out that a-yuan is wwx son and used him to lure out wwx. In lanling, jl, ljy, and oyzz helped a-yuan to leave. Su She is the one that responsible of them. Thats all i can remember. Thanks! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

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10. Hi, lovely people. I'm looking for a fic where LWJ takes WWX out the Burial Mounds, along w/all the Wens (against their will, but keeping 'em safe) & brings 'em to Gusu. He turns WWX into an omega w/a "recipe" of Wen Qing (who does it just for their own safety), until WY gets pregnant of Sizhu & Jingyi (not sure abt the names), but he often doubts abt having being an omega b4 & he's always being forced to have sex. LZ treats him rough & poorly, even in front of their sons. WWX ends up getting tired & runs away w/the kids, leaves 'em in the woods & jumps off a cliff. (Prob. Dark LWJ) TYSM! @einherjermineord

FOUND?🔒forfeit by eightroses (E, 12k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dark, Dark LWJ, Rape/Non-con Elements, Dubious Consent, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Alpha to Omega transformation, Alpha LWJ, Alpha WWX, Omega WWX, Sexual Coercion, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Forced Feminization, Mpreg, Forced Pregnancy, Fainting, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Vomiting, Rough Sex, Knotting, Medical Inaccuracies, Body Horror, Abuse, Domestic Violence, Trauma, No happy ending here)

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11. I’m looking for a wangxian fic where wangji tells wei ying what he did in the cold pond (the handfasting) while their in the cloud recesses and it diverges from there @wrappedaroundxielian

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12. For FicFinder – trying to find a fic I thought I had marked for later. I think it was modern with magic au? I think LWJ takes over an old theatre called the burial mounds which used to be WWX's? In this AU I think LWJ thinks WWX is dead or he didn't know WWX until he bought the theatre. honestly not sure this will be found but I appreciate any clues all the same. tysm for all you do running this blog. @itsallwearecalledtodo

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13. Hi, I’m looking for an ABO fic where WWX is an O and LWJ is an A and they’re soulmates. But WWX has been hiding his identity and pretending to be a B, because he got abused in his old pack and had run away (?) I think. @plzloveme

FOUND?🔒backfire by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 115k, wangxian, LWJ/MXY, One-Sided MXY/WWX, MXY/NMJ, Modern, BDSM AU, Biologically Determined Dom/sub Roles, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Sadism, Masochism, Past Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Self-Harm, BDSM as a Form of Self-Harm, Minor Character Death(s), Arson, Shades of Black Widow WWX, Extremely Dubious Consent, Rape/Non-con Elements, Normalized Homosexuality and Bisexuality, Normalized Polyamory, nonsexual bdsm, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Pining WWX, jealous WWX, Touch-Starved WWX, Professional Dominant WWX, Sex Worker WWX, gentle dom LWJ, Mean Dom LWJ, oblivious LWJ, Past WC/WWX, Minor JGY/WWX, Mentioned WWX/Others, Emotional Infidelity, Angst with a Happy Ending, endgame wangxian, MXY Also Gets a Happy Ending, the tags are scary but i promise there's some lightheartedness too, wangxian love one another so much, WWX is healed by the power of nonsexual bdsm and friendship, and then gets bdsm'd quite sexually and happily by the love of his life, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

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14. hello! i’m looking for a fic where jc post-siege finds wwx’s diaries in the burial mounds and he gets transported???? into the memories of each book

FOUND! Waiting On You by SmellsLikeDeanSpirit (M, 26k, JC & WWX, WangXian, WIP, Graphic Depicitions of Violence, Major Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Memories, Time Travel, Sort Of, the characters watching the show trope but different, WWX has magical diaries that force the reader to experience his memories, JC finds them and reads them, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Bashing, Bad Parent YZY, YZY Bashing, Canonical Character Death, he comes back tho, JC regrets, JC Needs a Hug, WWX Needs a Hug)

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15. Hi, this is for fic finder! I’m looking for a fic where wei ying and lan zhan are betrothed (I can’t remember if they were betrothed since childhood or during the cloud recesses arc. But basically the jiangs agree to the betrothal because they expect wei ying to be miserable in cloud recesses with all the gusu lan rules. However when they see how wei ying is actually loved and respected, they get super mad. I think madam yu gets mad because her own children are not in loving marriages?

There’s a possibility it might’ve been a/b/o but I’m not sure if i’m getting fics mixed up here 😭

But please help me find this fic! I’m always so grateful for the work you guys do

FOUND?🔒 Alliance AU series by Ilona22 (E, 21k, WangXian, JYL/OC, Arranged Marriage, A/B/O Dynamics, PWP, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Intersex Omegas, Not JC Friendly, Matchmaking, canon Jiang family dynamics, Family time, Night Hunts, Mention of male omega pregnancy, Intrigue at Jinlintai, Mentions of Prostitution, War, Conflict between characters)

FOUND? in case you ever foolishly forget by RavenclawLoki (E, 19k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Engagement, fast burn, Fluff, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Bad Person YZY, YZY Bashing, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LWJ & WWX are decent at communicating hense the fast burn, Good Uncle LQR, Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Established Relationship, BAMF JYL, she has given up on defending bad parents and we simply must support her, it's yanli's world we are just living in it, Demisexuality, Asexuality, Sex Positive Asexuality, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Soft WangXian, Implied Switching, LWJ shows love by slow blinking, Loss of Virginity, First Time, gonna add Out of Character tag to be safe regarding YL)

~*~

16. Hello ^^ I am looking for a fic where LWJ and JC traveled back in time and LWJ was the first one that found Wwx on the streets. Thx! @yoonieby

FOUND? A Matter of Time series by mrcformoso (E, 84k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, graphic depictions of violence, underage, LWJ pov, JC pov, dark LWJ, manipulation, grooming, teen body adult mind for LWJ, happy ending for wangxian, problematic consensual underage sex, blood & violence, insane LWJ, manic LWJ)

~*~

17. hi can you help me find a fic where lan zhan participates in a wei ying engagement tournament. Lwj wore a mask so as not to be recognized @silvanagomes87

FOUND? travelers through the empty gate by stiltonbasket (M, 107k, WangXian, royalty au, mistaken identity, emperor WWX, poor LWJ, forced marriage, (by LWJ himself), confused WWX, parenthood, misunderstandings, empress LWJ, fluff & humor, married life, angst w/ happy ending, WIP)

~*~

18. Hey hi, I’m looking for a missing wangxian fic. It takes place during the sunshot campaign, lwj and wwx are cursed(?) so that they feel eachother’s emotions, lwj pines and wwx is acting aloof and angry, lwj goes to jiang cheng and asks to marry wwx and lwj hits the table when jc insults wwx. Lwj and wwx share a dream and wwx is convinced that it’s all in his head before lwj walks into his tent repeating what he said in the dream. Eventually, lwj and wwx are married before the last battle and lwj is grievously injured. There’s a happy ending tho. Please lmk if you find this, I’ve spent days looking @remembertosaygoodbye

FOUND? The dreamers. by orange_crushed (E, 17k, WangXian, Dreams, Dreamsharing, Spells & Enchantments, Canon Divergence, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, War, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Temporary Character Death, The Character Dies But Does Not Stay Dead Trust Me, Resurrection, Suicidal Thoughts, Loss of Identity, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Injury Recovery, Trauma, Memory Loss, Memory Magic, War Is Hell Etcetera, I Promise The Characters Do Not Stay Dead and Will Absolutely Be Okay, Masturbation, Fantasy, Very Brief Mention of Burial-Mounds-Era Cannibalism, Major Character Death... but only for a minute honestly!!, Awkward First Times, Marriage Proposal)

~*~

19. Hi! This is for fic finder. I dont remember much, but i think it was mentioned that nmj is suspicious of the jin after the first burial mound siege. After he sees that the wen is just an old person. When jin rusong dies, nmj secretally goes to He sect and hide the non combatan in the sect. Thats all i can remember. Thanks @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

~*~

20. hello! I'm looking for this wangxian fic I think it is based on the song Driver's License by Olivia Rodrigo, it does not have a happy ending since wwx and lwj do not end up together in the end

thank you!

hello! thanks for answering my question in the fic finder post! question #20 I reviewed the summary, but unfortunately that is not the fic 😭 I remember that in the end wwx marries someone else (but not lwj) thanks for responding! 💗😊 and sorry for not explaining my question well

NOT FOUND! driver’s license by cryptenhope (T, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Post-Break Up, Making Up, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending if you read the ending notes, Ambiguous/Open Ending)

FOUND? 🔒 drivers license by AG1234VL (T, 11k, WWX/Other, WangXian, LWJ/LQY, Modern AU, Hurt No Comfort, slight comfor?Non-Chronological, Song fic, Crying WWX, ice cream and beer, breakup weight gain, Lots of Crying, Angst, Homophobia, from lqr, wangxian breakup)

~*~

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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gurugirl · 12 hours

Text

DEVIL DICK | a preview

Full one-shot posted on Patreon only!

devil dick: a man who doesn't have much to offer, but he gives it his all between the sheets and keeps 'em coming back for more.

. . .

"That's devil dick," Regi said. "Dick so good it gets you hooked and coming back for more but that's all he has, ya know? So, of course, he's giving it a hundred in bed. He's got nothing else. No job or money…"

The sticky sweet, electric blue cocktail you were sipping on was doing its job. Ethanol molecules passing through the barrier of your bloodstream and the area of your brain responsible for controlling your central nervous system caused that familiar feeling of intoxication to take over.

In other words, your normally high-functioning brain, along with its good judgment was being temporarily impaired.

But that's exactly what you wanted.

It was Friday night at one of the many popular bars downtown. You had no rhyme or reason for choosing this one. You just did. And when you found yourself a spot at the end of the bar all you knew was that you were going to have three, or maybe four, cocktails and then call it a night.

The bartender suggested their Friday night $6 special, the name of which you had already forgotten. But it was tasty; a little tart and a lot sweet. Coconutty. You could pretend you were somewhere in the Caribbean on vacation. Maybe an island off of Cartagena somewhere, basking in the sun and watching the ocean lap into the white sands.

But actually, you'd rather be right where you were in the big city sipping your shitty drink on your uncomfortable stool with terrible music pumping from the speakers.

Why? Because of the curly-haired man that was a few people down and catty-corner to you at the bar. The one who kept looking at you like he wanted the same thing you did. He was drinking a brown liquor. Whisky, brandy, or rum perhaps. Neat.

His big hand wrapped around the glass as he eyed you from his spot and he sipped up the intoxicant in much the same way you were nursing your own.

No words needed to be spoken as you emptied your third cocktail. He raised his tattooed arm to call the bartender to close out his tab. And then he pointed at you, pink lips moving, curving around his vowels slowly as he spoke.

You already knew what this was. You and the man had been communicating with your eyes and body language for the past hour and now he was paying your tab and that meant you were about to leave with him.

It was a good thing that your inhibitions were lowered. The ethanol effectively neutralizing your brain's don't-do-that switch.

Your card was returned and you stepped off the stool just as Mr. Pink Lips approached, giving you a hand to steady yourself before he followed you out of the bar, hand at your low back.

The night air did nothing to sober you up when you finally turned to speak, "Thank you for getting my drinks in there."

He grinned, "You're welcome. I'm Harry."

You slid your palm against his and introduced yourself, "What now, Harry?"

"Got a place we can go to?"

"Um… yeah. We can go to mine."

Harry bought your drinks so you got the taxi. Normally you wouldn't bring strangers back to yours but, again, your neurotransmitters weren't firing off as quickly as they normally did. And you were horny and he was fine as hell.

Sitting with your thigh glued to his in the backseat of the car he wrapped his palm around your neck ever so gently and tilted your head back before sliding his lips against yours. The gesture was dominant, forceful, but he wasn't rough. It felt like he knew what he wanted and you'd let him have it for the night.

. . .

Interested in more? 👀 Consider joining my Patreon!

xoxo

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hypnogold · 3 days

Text

Crescent Park

A special thanks to all my bros on the team!

As the sun dipped lower behind the trees of Crescent Park, a tense stillness filled the air. The Golden Team moved with precision, converting park-goers one by one, their sleek metallic jerseys glinting in the fading light. Coach Richard oversaw the operation, his towering frame exuding authority, while Walter—recently promoted to team manager—moved with newfound confidence, handling the transformations with growing expertise.

Walter approached his next target, a young man sitting alone near a pond, fiddling with his phone. His heart beat faster, not out of fear or hesitation, but from anticipation. He relished this. As the team manager, he took pride in outfitting the recruits, creating custom golden suits that symbolized their complete submission. He had worked hard to design each uniform, from the sharp white button-up shirts to the black-and-red striped ties beneath the shimmering golden jerseys. Now, it was time to add another name to the roster.

“Hey, man, mind if I sit?” Walter’s voice was smoother now, confident. The young man glanced up, surprised, but nodded.

Walter slipped a golden jersey from his bag, his fingers brushing against the soft, shimmering fabric. “You ever worn something like this? Trust me—it feels incredible. Changes everything.”

The young man raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure of where this was going, but before he could react, Walter grabbed his shoulder, locking him in place. The golden jersey slid over his head with an eerie precision, and as the fabric touched his skin, the transformation began.

The first sensation was warmth—an almost intoxicating comfort that spread from the jersey, radiating into every fiber of his being. The young man gasped, his body stiffening, his mind fighting for control, but it was futile. The warmth grew more intense, like being wrapped in the most welcoming embrace. His muscles slackened, a strange euphoria taking over as his thoughts slowed, rearranged, and reshaped by the power of the jersey.

As the golden spirals in his mind deepened, his name—whatever it had been before—was erased. He blinked, and a new name filled the void in his mind: Dean. It wasn’t just a name; it was an identity, a purpose. Dean belonged to the Golden Team now. His personality shifted, becoming simpler, more focused, his mind locked on one thing—obeying the Cap, obeying the Gold.

“We obey Cap and we obey Gold,” Dean murmured softly, as if the mantra had always been part of him.

Walter grinned. “That’s right, bro. You’re one of us now.”

Dean’s posture straightened, his hands smoothing over his new jersey. His speech changed, becoming more casual, almost bro-like. “Feels good, man. So good to just… obey.”

Walter clapped him on the back. “Welcome to the team, Dean. Now let’s get you to work.”

Not far off, Brody and Scott were working on another group of men, this time two joggers who had been cornered by the fountain. Brody, with his sharp eyes and quick movements, had already wrestled a VR headset onto one of the men. The spirals flickered to life, and the jogger's body jerked in response, his eyes wide with shock as his mind was engulfed in the golden waves of hypnotic control.

Brody and Scott are ready to recruit some more bros..

The man’s breathing quickened as the headset took over, each pulse of the golden spirals draining his resistance. His body sagged into submission, his mind softening like putty, molding itself to fit the team’s desires. His name? Gone. A new one settled in its place—Barry

Barry let out a soft laugh, his former self melting away. He tugged at the golden jersey that now fit snugly over his chest, feeling an overwhelming sense of belonging. His voice, once steady and confident, now carried a playful, bro-ish tone. “Man, why didn’t I do this sooner? Feels so right, bro.”

Scott stepped up beside him, laughing with him, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “That’s what I’m talking about, Barry. You’re gonna love being on the team. We’re all about the Gold now.”

Barry’s face lit up as he joined in the laughter, his eyes swirling with the lingering golden spirals. His focus had narrowed, his thoughts reshaped into one core belief: obedience to Cap and Gold. “We obey Cap and we obey Gold,” he repeated, his voice filled with a mix of pride and devotion.

As more men succumbed, Walter’s confidence only grew. He was proud of what the team was becoming, of the role he played in crafting their identities and uniforms. Each golden suit, carefully tailored and fitted, was a symbol of their unity, their purpose. The fabric seemed to glow brighter as each new recruit joined, as if absorbing the strength of their allegiance.

Walter spotted another target, a tall, lean man who had been watching the chaos unfold from the far end of the park. The man’s eyes were wide with fear as he turned to run, but Walter was faster. He reached him in seconds, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him back toward the team. The man struggled, panic in his eyes, but Walter was calm, collected.

“You don’t need to fight this, take my headset” Walter said, slipping the golden VR headset over the man’s head. “Just let it happen.”

The man’s body trembled as the spirals began their work, dissolving the fear, the resistance, until he was completely still, his mind under the control of the Golden Team. His name was stripped away, replaced with something new—Travis. His thoughts dulled, his emotions drained, replaced with a singular focus: obedience.

“We obey Cap and we obey Gold,” Travis whispered, his voice trembling with newfound loyalty. Walter gave Travis his new uniform and he discarded his bright blue one. He obeys Cap.

Coach Richard watched from a distance, his gaze approving. Walter had come far, and he had proven himself not just as a manager but as an integral part of the team. He made sure every recruit wore their uniform with pride, and he executed the transformations with precision and confidence.

As the park darkened and the last of the stragglers were brought into the fold, Walter, Brody, and Scott stood proudly beside Coach Richard. The Golden Team had grown once again, and with each new recruit, their power expanded.

“Another good day’s work,” Coach Richard said, his voice filled with pride. “We’ll keep pushing, keep growing. They all obey us eventually.”

Walter nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. “We obey Cap and we obey Gold.”

The others echoed the mantra, their voices blending into a single, unified chant. The park was theirs, and soon, there would be more parks, more recruits, more gold.

At the other side of the park...

I was in the middle of a perfect slapshot, the whistling through the air, when I saw them coming—these guys in golden jerseys. I didn’t think much of it at first. It’s a park, right? People wear weird stuff all the time. But there was something off about the way they moved. They weren’t just walking—they were converging, fast, in this synchronized, almost military formation.

Then I saw them close in on the basketball game happening across the field. My buddies were laughing and shouting, passing the ball back and forth, completely oblivious to the group of golden-shirted guys surrounding them. My heart jumped, something about the way they moved didn’t sit right.

Before I could shout a warning, one of the golden guys—this huge dude with a smirk—grabbed Tim, our goalie. He yanked a shiny gold jersey over Tim's head. It was so quick, almost casual, but the moment that jersey touched him, Tim froze, his whole body locking up like he’d been hit by a truck. He dropped the ball, eyes wide, and I could see the struggle on his face, like he was trying to fight whatever was happening. But it didn’t last long. His muscles relaxed, and then, something worse—his face twisted into this... this grin, like he was happy, relieved even.

“Tim! Run!” I shouted, but it was too late.

The golden guy holding him turned him around so we could all see. Tim’s back was now emblazoned with a name I didn’t recognize—“Brad 8.” I froze in place, stick in hand. That wasn’t Tim anymore. Brad, whoever that was, nodded, still grinning, and joined the golden guys, completely in sync.

I felt a pit in my stomach. Panic set in as I watched them move to the next one—Mark. Mark was trying to shove the guys off, but another jersey was already over his head. The moment it touched him, his resistance melted away. His body slumped before straightening into that same eerily obedient posture. He turned around, and sure enough, “Barry 17” was stitched across his back. Just like that, he was gone too.

That’s when instinct took over. I dropped my ball and bolted for the trees. I ran so fast I could feel the air burn my lungs, but I didn’t stop. Not until I was deep into the park’s wooded area, out of sight. My heart was pounding, and my hands shook as I crouched behind a thick bush, peeking out just enough to watch.

From my hiding spot, I had a clear view of the field. I could still see the others—the guys I’d known for years—being systematically transformed. One by one, those golden jerseys were yanked over their heads, and each time it was the same. First, a struggle, but then... they’d just stop. Stop fighting, stop thinking, and become part of them. Every time, a new name appeared on their backs—Henry, Brock, Chad—and with it, the person I knew was gone.

The golden guys were chanting something too. I could barely make it out over the wind and rustling trees, but it sounded like, “We obey Cap and we obey Gold.” Over and over again, as if that was the only thing that mattered now.

I saw one of the golden guys grab Alex, the last one left. Alex was a tough dude, always talking about how he’d never back down from a fight. But he didn’t stand a chance. They wrestled him to the ground, and soon, he was wearing the same jersey. When he stood up, his back was turned toward me. “Cody 23” was stitched into the gold, as if he’d never been Alex at all.

I pressed myself harder into the ground, biting back the urge to scream or run again. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was like they weren’t even human anymore. They laughed, patted each other on the back, but it wasn’t normal. It was like... like they were all sharing the same brain, like they all belonged to something much bigger than themselves.

I swallowed, my mouth dry. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, because if they found me, I knew what would happen. I’d get a jersey too, and that would be the end of me.

The golden guys, now with my friends—no, with Brad, Barry, and Cody—moved on, searching for more people in the park. They’d completely forgotten about the game, about the goals and the ball. That wasn’t their world anymore. It was all about Cap and Gold. That was their new identity, and I was the last one left who wasn’t part of it.

I stayed there, hidden in the bushes, for what felt like hours. The chanting faded as they moved farther away, leaving me alone in the park that used to be ours. I had to get out of here, but every time I thought about leaving, I remembered the look on Tim’s—no, Brad’s—face when they took him. That empty, happy grin. I was terrified I’d see that smile in the reflection of my own face if they caught me.

I waited until the sun began to set before creeping out of my hiding spot, moving quietly through the trees, making sure no one could see me. But as I left, the mantra kept echoing in my head, the same phrase over and over:

“We obey Cap and we obey Gold.”

It wouldn’t stop. And a part of me feared that no matter how far I ran, I might still hear it.

1 hour later..

I crept through the trees, my heart still hammering in my chest. The sun was dipping lower, casting long shadows over the park. I thought I was in the clear, that I could escape unnoticed. But as I took a step out of the wooded area, there was a sudden rustling behind me.

"Where you headed, bro?"

The voice sent ice down my spine. I turned, and there he was—Brody, one of the golden guys. He was standing just a few feet away, his metallic golden jersey gleaming in the fading light, the white button-up shirt and striped tie underneath still visible. He wore that same grin I had seen on the others, like he was in on some cosmic joke.

I froze, my legs refusing to move, my mouth dry. I had no idea how he had found me, but I could see it in his eyes—he knew. I was the last one left. Brody took a step forward, his grin widening, and before I could react, two more golden-clad guys appeared from the trees—Scott and Dean. They had circled me.

“Coach is gonna be happy to see you,” Brody said, his voice so casual, like we were just old friends hanging out. “You can’t run from this, man. You’re part of the team now.”

“No, I—I’m not,” I stammered, taking a shaky step back. My hands were trembling. “I’m not like you.”

Scott chuckled softly. “You will be.”

Before I could even think to bolt, Dean moved with lightning speed, grabbing me by the arms. His grip was firm, but not painful. It was almost... comforting. "Don't fight it, bro," he whispered, his voice strangely soothing. "We obey Cap and we obey Gold."

“No! Let me go!” I yelled, struggling to break free, but Dean held me tight. Brody and Scott stepped forward, both of them pulling a golden jersey from the bag slung over Brody’s shoulder. My heart pounded in my chest as I realized what was coming.

“Don’t worry,” Brody said, “it feels good once it’s on.”

I thrashed, trying to escape, but Dean’s grip was like iron. I couldn’t break free. Then, with a swift motion, Scott yanked the jersey over my head. As the golden fabric touched my skin, something inside me shifted—an overwhelming warmth spread through my body, starting from where the jersey pressed against my shoulders, down my arms, into my chest. My resistance faltered, my limbs growing heavy.

The warmth was intoxicating. It seeped into my bones, making my mind feel... fuzzy. My thoughts, once sharp and panicked, began to blur at the edges. I could still feel the fear, but it was fading, being replaced by something else—something far more pleasant. A sense of belonging, of calm.

My legs buckled, and I fell to my knees. Brody and Scott knelt beside me, their hands resting on my shoulders. “Just let it happen,” Scott whispered, “it’s easier that way.”

I tried to hold onto who I was—tried to remember my name, my life—but the jersey was working its way deeper into my mind. I could feel it now, creeping through my thoughts, replacing them with something new. My name—it felt distant, like a word I had heard once but didn’t fully recognize anymore. A new name was forming in its place.

As I knelt there, struggling against the warmth flooding my body from the golden jersey, the last fragments of my old self slipped away. My name… I tried to hold onto it, to remember who I was before all this. But the more I fought, the deeper the warmth sank in, washing away my resistance. A new name began to form, one that felt foreign and familiar all at once.

“Joshua,” I whispered, the word coming from somewhere deep within me. It felt right, like it had always been my name, like it was who I was meant to be.

Brody smiled down at me, nodding approvingly. “Yeah, Joshua. Welcome to the team, bro.”

I felt a strange rush of pride. The jersey was no longer just a piece of fabric clinging to my body—it was part of me now. It fit perfectly, like it had been made for me, like it belonged on me. And I belonged to the team.

Scott stood beside me, placing a firm hand on my shoulder, his grip no longer threatening but reassuring. “You feel it now, right, Joshua? The purpose. The brotherhood.”

I nodded, standing up on shaky legs. The transformation had washed away every trace of fear and hesitation, replacing them with something far stronger. I looked at the other guys, at Dean, Scott, and Brody, and I didn’t just see a group of men—I saw my team, my brothers. I was one of them now.

I turned to look at my reflection in the fountain. The name "Joshua 19" was emblazoned on the back of my golden jersey, the number gleaming in the evening light. It felt perfect. I felt perfect.

My thoughts had shifted completely. The confusion, the doubt—all gone. Now, there was only loyalty. Loyalty to Cap. Loyalty to Gold. It was simple, clear, and it filled me with a sense of fulfillment I had never known before.

Brody chuckled, his voice warm as he patted me on the back. “You get it now, Joshua. We obey Cap and we obey Gold.”

The words slipped from my lips as if they had always been there. “We obey Cap and we obey Gold,” I echoed, feeling the power of the mantra take root deep within me. It wasn’t just a phrase; it was a way of life. A belief. An oath.

Scott and Dean joined in, all of us chanting together, a unified voice of devotion. “We obey Cap and we obey Gold.”

I smiled, finally feeling at peace. The struggle was over. I wasn’t running anymore. I wasn’t hiding. I was home.

As I stood there with my brothers, the mission was clear. We weren’t done yet. The park was full of new recruits, and I knew exactly what my role was now. It was time to find them, welcome them, and show them what it meant to be part of the team. I was Joshua now, and nothing else mattered.

They were told to enter a golden bus and drive of to the Golden Home where all the Golden Team boys live. They needed to wear the VR headsets, because no one knows where it is...yet everyone obeyed.

I had a purpose, and together with the Golden Team, we were going to make sure everyone understood: we obey Cap, and we obey Gold.

#male transformation #gold #soccer tf #hypnotised #golden army #jockification #jock tf #suit tf #join us

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crazyunsexycool · 16 hours

Note

Bucky getting Handsy with Sugar - Sugar you're so pretty 😏

Lottie who came back from school out of nowhere - Yes daddy mama is so pretty 😍

The amount of times Lottie has Cockblocked Bucky and Sugar is unimaginable 😂😭

😂😂😂😂 She’s the reason she doesn’t have a baby sissy…

Getting Blocked…

Warnings: implied smut. mentioned edging/orgasm denial

Bucky had been on a mission for three weeks and to say he missed you was an understatement. Of course he missed his family but he was dying to see you, feel you and just have his way with you as many times as possible.

Bucky rushes out of the meeting room after the debrief and heads home. He hears you moving around in the kitchen and he quickly makes his way to you. You don’t even get a chance to say hello before he’s pulling you in and his lips crash into yours. Bucky only pulls away to leave a trail of kissing down your neck after leaving you breathless.

“I missed you too.” You mumble as you tilt your head to the side so that he can have better access.

“I missed you so much, sugar.” He mutters against your skin. His hands roam your figure and relishing how your curves fit perfectly against him. “I need you right now.”

You giggle as the scruff of his beard tickle your sensitive skin.

“You are so beautiful.”

“She’s the pwettiest mama ever.” Lottie says innocently as she moves around the kitchen island. Her eyes light up at seeing her dad after three weeks and her smile is radiant.

But as happy as Bucky is to see her he’s also frustrated. You can’t help but laugh at conflicting look on his face so you help him out by stepping around him and picking Lottie up. It gives him a minute or two to cool down.

“Hi doll, I missed you soooooo much.” He says once he has the situation under control.

"I missed you daddy." Lottie says while peppering kisses all over his face.

"Now, what are you doing home in the middle of the week, shouldn't you be at school?"

"They let the kids out early today." You say while biting back a smile.

"Of course they did." Bucky grumbles.

"Why don't you go shower and change and we can hang out later."

"Yeah, I'll do that." Bucky nods as he sets Lottie on her feet. He grumbles all the way up the stairs.

****

Bucky had just taken off his shirt in the bathroom when the door opened and closed quickly. You gave him a sly smile as your wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

“So what was this whole ‘I need you right now’ thing you were saying?” You mumble against his lips.

“Don’t tease me, Sugar.”

You smirk as your hands travel over Bucky’s chest and down his abs to his pants. His breath hitches as you undo the button and zipper. He can’t contain himself as he starts to get hard under your touch. But just as you’re about to get on your knees for him there’s a small knock on the bathroom door.

“Mama?” Lottie calls out. There’s a strain in her voice that lets you know something is wrong. “I dwopped my juice.”

Bucky throws his head back and groans as you pull away from him.

“I’ll be right out sweet Angel.”

“Mama, my dwess is Sticky. I don’t wike it.”

“Go to your bathroom and I’ll be right there.” You say and wait for the little ‘Kay’ she gives.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” You give him a quick kiss before leaving him alone in the bathroom.

****

Bucky had never been more excited for bedtime than at this moment. Once the kids were in bed he’d have you all to himself. He was more than happy to read an extra story if it meant the kids would be completely asleep and he could have uninterrupted time with you.

You’re already in bed waiting for Bucky when he walks in and locks the door. His eyes darken as he takes in your figure on the bed. Bucky doesn’t waste his time walking over to you.

“Where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?” You murmur as Bucky settles over you.

His lips are on yours in a flash. You both pour all your love into the kiss. Bucky’s hands travel up and down your body before his lips do the same. You sigh happily at finally having him close again after 3 weeks. Unfortunately for both of you there’s another knock at the door.

Bucky almost growls as he rests his forehead against your midsection. He’s so close to what he needs the most but he can’t have it, he can’t have you right now.

“Friday, unlock the door.” Bucky grumbles as he moves to his side of the bed.

Lottie’s sleepy form stands in the doorway, pink teddy bear in hand.

“What’s wrong doll?” Bucky asks as Lottie makes her way over to his side.

“Can habe seepover? I missed you daddy.”

Man’s Bucky’s heart melts at the sleepy confession. And who is he to deny his doll anything? Bucky looks over to you to find that you were trying not to laugh as he pulled Lottie up and sat her down between you too.

“Can I sleep here too?” Henry’s question made you yelp since you hadn’t seen him come in. He giggles sleepily as he starts climbing over you without waiting for an answer.

So Bucky’s first night back is spent with the three of you cuddled up in bed. He can’t be completely disappointed though, just a little frustrated.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Bucky woke up to an empty bed. He knew you would have taken the kids to school to let him sleep in more. So he went about his morning as usual. Bucky had some coffee, did some exercise and worked on a few reports in his office. At around 11 am he gets a text from you to come home so he finishes up and heads back.

"Sugar? Is everything alright?" Bucky calls out as he walks in.

"Everything's good."

Bucky walks further into your shared home only to stop in his tracks when he finds you at the bottom of the stairs waiting for him. You were wearing nothing but a robe, hair and make up done. His eyes went straight to your red painted lips.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"Nope. We are staying right here. Steve asked if he could pick up the kids from school and have a sleepover and who was I to deny that request?" You smirk. "Isn't that so nice of him?"

Bucky nods dumbly in response. His body already reacting to the implication that you'll have the rest of the day to yourselves. He's been dying to get his hands on you and showed you just how much he's missed you. But of course it couldn't be that easy. He takes one step towards you and feels like he's being held back, specifically by his left are. Bucky looks at the offending appendage in confusion before he looks back at you.

"Easy there tiger. I spent all morning getting ready for you and you're planning to throw me over your shoulder like a cave man?"

You were the one holding him back. Bucky's eyes darken as he stares you down. His jaw goes slack as you take off the robe and show off the lingerie you were wearing just for him. You looked divine but Bucky wanted to wipe off that little smug smirk you had.

"Sugar, if you don't let me go right now, I won't let you come."

Just like that you let him go. Bucky didn't waste any more time, he marched towards you and did exactly what you said and threw you over his shoulder. You couldn't help but laugh as he practically ran up the stairs and threw you on the bed.

Bucky sighed in relief as he took off his shirt and looked down at you. "Finally, just you and me."

You sit up and help Bucky get rid of his pants. As he begins to kiss you the doorbell rings and he groans.

"You have got to be kidding me. I'm going to murder whoever is on the other side of the door." Bucky says as he starts to get up.

He only stops when you start laughing. Bucky's eyes narrow in suspicion the longer and harder you laugh.

"Was that you?" He asks.

"I'm sorry. I had to do it. You should've seen your face." You start laughing again.

"Oh Sugar, you really shouldn't have done that." The tone in his voice has you stop. He wraps his fingers around your ankle and pulls you towards him. "Now you're really gonna get it."

"I hope so."

Bucky smirks. He takes his time with you. Maybe he even brings you right to the edge of bliss but stops before you're able to orgasm. You pout and tell him it's not fair. But he doesn't budge. Bucky keeps his promise and doesn't let you come, only a few times though.

After he's made his point he shows you just how much he missed you those three weeks. And most importantly, there are no little cockblockers around to stop him.

#you’ve got mail 💌#val answers #my little love ask #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #charlotte barnes #henry barnes #my little love universe ask

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brunchable · 1 day

Text

Love Child | Steve Rogers × f!Reader.

Words: 7.1K Themes: ANGST, betrayal of trust, break-up. Twigger Warning: Panic attack. Summary: You find out that Steve has a child, and the problem was, you weren't the mother. A/N: Read it if you want to hurt. I woke up and chose emotional damage LMAO. Today I am brave enough to post a Steve angst with no happy ending, I have been stalling but eh. A/N: Also I need to organize who wants to get tagged for ALL of my Steve Rogers fic. I am in a mess here, so if I am not tagging you, that's the reason.

Tags: @mrsevans90 @haruvalentine4321

You stared at the letter in your hands, the words blurring as tears welled in your eyes. Your chest tightened, the walls of the room closing in on you. The world tilted and spun, a sharp pain cutting through your heart as if it had been pierced by a dagger you never saw coming.

The paper crumpled in your hand as the weight of the revelation crushed you. Steve has a child. And the mother was Sharon.

A ragged breath escaped you, your body trembling as you stumbled back, gripping the edge of the counter to keep yourself upright. How long? The question echoed in your mind, over and over again.

How long had Steve kept this from you? How long had he looked you in the eyes, told you he loved you, and hidden this secret?

The door creaked open, and you turned, your heart already in tatters, your hands gripping the countertop so hard your knuckles turned white. Steve walked in, his expression soft, unaware of the storm raging within you.

He froze when he saw your face—your red-rimmed eyes, your trembling body. His gaze dropped to the letter in your hand, and in an instant, you saw the recognition hit him hard.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice careful, cautious, like he knew he was stepping into dangerous territory.

“You—” Your voice cracked, but you forced the words out, the pain burning through your chest. “You have a child?”

Steve’s face paled. He opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“No. You don’t get to talk right now,” you spat, your voice shaking with barely controlled fury. “How long were you planning to hide this from me, Steve?”

“Y/N, it’s not what you think—”

You laughed, the sound bitter. “Not what I think? Steve, you have a child with Sharon. A child. And you didn’t think I had the right to know?”

His jaw tightened, guilt flickering across his face, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing he could say now would ever be enough.

“How long?” you demanded, your voice rising. “How long have you known?”

He hesitated, and that hesitation was like another stab to your already bleeding heart.

“Three years,” he whispered, barely able to meet your eyes.

You froze. “Three years?”

It felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you, the air knocked from your lungs. You took a step back, trying to keep yourself from falling apart completely.

“Three years, Steve?” you repeated, your voice soft but trembling with every word. “You’ve known for three years, and you didn’t tell me? You didn’t think that I should know that the man I love has a child?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” Steve started, stepping forward, but you recoiled from him, shaking your head.

“That’s your excuse?” you said, incredulous. “You didn’t know how to tell me? So you just decided not to? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Did you think this would never come up?”

Steve’s face twisted in pain, but you couldn’t stop. The dam had broken, and all the hurt, the betrayal, poured out of you like a flood.

“Do you have any idea what that feels like? To find out like this?” You threw the crumpled letter at his chest, your voice breaking as the tears spilled over. “I’ve stood by you through everything. I’ve defended you when everyone else doubted you. I’ve fought for us. I trusted you with everything—and you kept this from me?”

“Y/N, please,” Steve pleaded, his voice cracking. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t want to hurt me?” you repeated, your voice trembling with disbelief. “Well, guess what, Steve? You did. You hurt me more than anyone ever has. You kept this secret from me, and now I don’t even know who you are.”

He took another step closer, desperation etched into every line of his face. “I didn’t love Sharon. It wasn’t—”

“I don’t care about Sharon!” you shouted with a bite, cutting him off. “I care about the fact that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. I care about the fact that you’ve looked me in the eyes, slept beside me, told me you loved me—all while hiding this.”

Steve’s lips parted, but no words came out. And in that silence, something inside you shattered.

“I loved you, Steve,” you whispered, the tears flowing freely now, no longer caring to hold them back. “I loved you more than anything. But now? Now all I feel is… hollow.”

He flinched as if the word struck him deeply, but it didn’t stop you.

“You had a choice, Steve. You could have trusted me. You could have told me the truth. But instead, you chose to keep me in the dark. You chose to lie. And now?” Your voice broke again, the weight of your words settling in the air between you. “Now, I don’t even know if I can ever forgive you for that—”

“Oh my God! Will you let me explain?!” Steve exploded, his voice shaking the walls. He stepped forward, fists clenched, his entire body vibrating with anger. “You keep going on and on, like I wanted this to happen! You think I wanted to hide this from you? You don’t even know what it was like!”

Your head snapped back, and your voice matched his fury. “I don’t know what it was like? I’m the one who’s been fooled! For three years! You kept this massive secret from me, and now I’m the one who doesn’t understand?”

“Yeah, you don’t!” he shot back, stepping closer, the space between you charged, toxic. “You have no idea what it was like carrying that around. Every day, wondering if telling you would blow everything apart!”

“Well, guess what?” you yelled, voice rising as your hands trembled at your sides. “You didn’t have to wonder, Steve. Because it’s blown apart now!”

Steve’s jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might shatter. “I didn’t lie, Y/N. I didn’t know about the kid until after we were already together!”

“You lied by not telling me when you found out!” you screamed, your chest heaving with the effort. “You made me believe there were no secrets between us, and all this time, you’ve been hiding something so huge! You have a child! A whole other life with Sharon!”

“It’s not a life!” Steve roared, his voice breaking under the weight of his anger. “It was a mistake! Something I never wanted in the first place!”

“Then why didn’t you tell me? Why did you hide it? Were you too much of a coward to be honest with me?” Your words hit like daggers, your chest burning from the emotional wreckage piling up between you.

Steve’s face twisted into something hard, something darker. “Coward? Coward? You want to talk about being a coward? How about the time you lied to me?”

Your breath hitched, your eyes narrowing in confusion and shock. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” he spat, his voice venomous. “You remember that night you said you were out with Nat, but really, you were meeting with Bucky behind my back. You lied to me about that. Don’t act like you’re innocent here.”

“That’s not the same thing!” you snapped, shaking your head as you stepped closer, your heart hammering in your chest. “I didn’t lie about having a whole ass child, Steve! There’s a pretty huge difference!”

Steve let out a bitter, angry laugh, running his hands through his hair. “No, it’s not the same, but you still lied. You lied because you didn’t want to deal with my reaction, just like I didn’t want to deal with this.”

“I lied about a mission! A mission. Not something that would change everything between us. Don’t you dare try to make this about me when you’re the one who’s been hiding a child for years!”

“You’re so self-righteous,” Steve snapped, his voice full of heat, his chest rising and falling with the force of his anger. “You act like you’re perfect, like you’ve never made a mistake. You’re so focused on my screw-ups, but you don’t even see your own.”

Your mouth dropped open, the words barely able to form as you stared at him in disbelief. “You’re trying to make this my fault? You’re actually blaming me for this?”

Steve’s eyes blazed as he stepped forward, his voice low, seething. “I’m saying you act like you’re the only one who’s hurt here. Like you’re the only one who has a right to be angry. But guess what, Y/N? I’m angry too. I’m angry that I had to carry this weight alone because I didn’t know how to tell you without you tearing me apart for it.”

“You chose that!” you shot back, your voice shaking with fury. “You chose to keep this from me, Steve. Don’t try to make it seem like I forced your hand. You had every chance to be honest, and you didn’t. That’s on you.”

“Of course, it’s on me!” Steve shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “But you act like I’m the only one who’s ever messed up, like your lies don’t count. Like your secrets are somehow better.”

You felt your chest tighten, the tears of rage building again behind your eyes. “You have no right to stand there and compare this to anything I’ve done. You hid a child from me, Steve. Do you even get how massive that is? You took away my right to know.”

“I know!” he yelled, his voice breaking. “I know I fucked up. I know I should’ve told you, but I was scared, okay? I was scared of what it would do to us.”

“And now look at us,” you whispered, the words filled with raw pain. “It’s worse. It’s so much worse because you waited. Because you lied.”

Steve took a deep breath, his voice softening but still tinged with anger. “I didn’t want to hurt you. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“But you did,” you said, your voice breaking. “You hurt me more than you can imagine. And the worst part is, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at you the same way again.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him as the weight of your words settled between you. “Y/N…”

You shook your head, stepping back, the tears spilling over now, hot and fast. “You broke us, Steve.”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice small, broken. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough to fix this.

“I hope it was worth it,” you spat, turning your back on Steve as you stormed toward the stairs. The anger radiated off you, the floor trembling beneath your footsteps as you ascended.

“Y/N—where are you going? What are you doing?” Steve called after you, his voice still thick with frustration and desperation. You didn’t turn back, didn’t even acknowledge him as your heart pounded violently in your chest.

Your feet carried you faster, the distance between you and Steve becoming a chasm you knew neither of you could cross again. You reached the bedroom, flinging the closet doors open with a sharp tug. Your hands shook as you grabbed your suitcase, throwing it onto the bed with a loud thud.

“Y/N, stop!” Steve’s voice was closer now, frantic as he followed you up the stairs, his boots heavy on the hardwood floor. “What are you doing?”

But you kept your back to him, ignoring the pleading edge to his voice as you tore clothes from hangers, shoving them into the suitcase with reckless abandon.

“Y/N—talk to me!” Steve’s voice was sharp, almost panicked now, but you couldn’t stop. You wouldn’t stop.

The closet was a blur of motion as you threw more and more into your bag, your breath coming out in ragged gasps as you fought to keep from sobbing. You had to focus, had to keep moving, because if you stopped—if you stopped for even one second—you knew you’d break completely.

“Where are you going?” Steve demanded, his voice breaking as he grabbed your arm, forcing you to face him. “What are you doing, Y/N?”

Your eyes snapped up to his, blazing with fury. You ripped your arm out of his grasp, your voice dripping with venom. “I’m leaving, Steve. What does it look like I’m doing?”

He blinked, stunned by your words, his hands falling to his sides. “You’re not… You can’t just—”

“I can,” you cut him off, zipping up the half-packed suitcase with a sharp tug. “And I will.”

He stared at you, his chest rising and falling with heavy, uneven breaths. “You’re just going to walk away? After everything?”

You whirled on him, your eyes flashing. “What else do you want me to do, Steve? Stay? Pretend like everything’s fine? You betrayed me.”

You shook your head, grabbing another handful of clothes and shoving them into the suitcase. “I can’t do that.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, his voice filled with a desperate edge. “I made a mistake, Y/N! I know I did. But you can’t just throw everything away like this.”

“You threw it away,” you snapped, your voice rising again, your hands trembling as you yanked open the dresser. “The second you decided to lie to me, you threw us away.”

His hand slammed against the dresser, stopping your frantic movements, his voice breaking with emotion.

“I didn’t want to lose you!”

You froze, your fingers gripping the edge of the drawer, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Well, congratulations, Steve,” you whispered, your voice raw and ragged. “You lost me anyway.”

You pulled away from him, resuming your packing with a fury, trying to shove everything into the suitcase as quickly as possible. You couldn’t stay here any longer—not with him, not after everything.

“Y/N, please,” Steve’s voice cracked, and for the first time, you heard the fear beneath the anger. “Don’t do this. We can fix this.”

You snapped the suitcase shut, turning to face him one last time, your throat burning as you fought so hard not to break down in front of him. “We can’t fix this, Steve. You broke it. You broke us. And I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.”

His face crumpled, the pain in his eyes matching the hollow ache in your chest. “I love you, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat as you turned away from him, grabbing your suitcase and pulling it off the bed.

“I wish that was enough,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

Steve took a step forward, his hand reaching out as if he could pull you back, but you were already gone. Already walking toward the door, the weight of everything crashing down around you.

You didn’t look back as you left, didn’t let yourself see the devastation on his face. Because if you did—if you saw the hurt in his eyes—you might have broken completely.

× × × ×

The rain hammered against the windshield, streaking in endless lines, distorting the world outside as you drove aimlessly through the storm. The wipers struggled to keep up, but it didn’t matter—you could barely see through the blur of tears clouding your vision.

Your hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white as your chest heaved with shallow, uneven breaths. The weight of everything was too much—the anger, the betrayal, the unbearable ache in your heart. It felt like your whole world had collapsed in a single moment, and now you were drowning in the wreckage.

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think.

With a sharp jerk, you pulled the car to the side of the road, the tires skidding slightly on the wet pavement. The sound of the blinker clicked furiously in the sudden stillness, an incessant reminder of the chaos swirling inside you.

And then, the dam broke.

A sob ripped from your throat, deep and raw, shaking your entire body as you collapsed forward, your head falling against the steering wheel. The tears came in a rush, uncontrollable and violent, each breath harder to take than the last. You gasped, but no air came—just the suffocating weight of your own grief, crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Your chest ached, a sharp, stabbing pain that radiated through your ribs, like something inside you was breaking apart, splintering under the pressure. You tried to breathe, but the sobs came too fast, too strong, wrenching your body with each convulsion.

It felt like your heart was being crushed, squeezed until it couldn’t beat anymore. You pressed a hand to your chest, desperate, coughing between sobs as you tried to force the air back into your lungs. But it wouldn’t come.

You were drowning.

The sound of the blinker ticked steadily in the background, but all you could hear was your own ragged breathing, the gasps for air that never came, the broken cries that tore from your throat.

You couldn’t stop.

The tears burned as they fell, hot and endless, but you didn’t wipe them away. You couldn’t. Your body was shaking, your chest so tight it felt like you were being crushed from the inside. Every sob sent fresh waves of pain through you—pain so deep it felt like your heart was being ripped apart.

You heaved, gasping, your hand clutching your chest as though you could somehow hold yourself together. But you couldn’t. Everything inside you was breaking, crumbling under the weight of the agony that consumed you.

You coughed, your throat raw from the sobs, the pressure in your chest building until it felt like you might burst. You wanted it to stop—needed it to stop—but the pain only deepened, settling into every corner of your body, pressing down harder with every breath you couldn’t take.

You screamed then, the sound tearing through the car, harsh and guttural, a cry that came from somewhere deep inside—the part of you that had been shattered beyond repair. It filled the space, mingling with the sound of the rain and the steady tick of the blinker, a scream of pure, unfiltered anguish.

And still, the tears came.

It felt like hours before the sobs began to slow, before the heaving breaths turned into shallow gasps, your body trembling from the exertion. But the pain remained—a deep, aching wound that throbbed in your chest, a constant reminder that everything you had was gone.

Your hands shook as you wiped your eyes, though the tears wouldn’t stop completely. You leaned back in the seat, staring blankly out at the rain-soaked world, feeling empty. Hollow.

And as the blinker continued to tick, the world outside was nothing but a blur of rain and darkness, you realized you didn’t know how to pick up the pieces of what was left of you.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for your phone, the weight of it heavy in your palm, the screen blurred by the tears still streaming down your face. Every part of you ached—your chest tight, your breath shaky, the sobs still threatening to break free. You could barely see through the haze of grief, but you needed someone. Needed someone to pull you out of this spiral before it swallowed you whole.

With a shaking hand, you scrolled through your contacts, and your thumb hovered over her name—Nat. The one person who had always been there, who wouldn’t ask too many questions, who would understand with just a single word.

The ringing felt like it stretched on forever, each second punctuated by the relentless ticking of the blinker, the steady beat of rain against the windshield.

Finally, the call connected.

"Y/N?" Nat’s voice was soft.

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. A choked sob escaped you instead, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You clutched the phone tighter, your other hand pressing hard against your chest, as though you could hold yourself together long enough to speak.

"Y/N?" Nat’s voice sharpened, filled with worry now. "What’s going on? Are you okay?"

"I—I can’t—" The words came out broken, shattered between sobs. You coughed, gasping for breath, trying to force out the words that felt stuck in your throat. "I can’t… breathe."

"Hey, hey, breathe." Nat’s voice softened, grounding you, pulling you out of the suffocating darkness. "Take a breath. What’s going on?"

You sucked in a breath, but it was jagged, painful. The tears wouldn’t stop, your chest still heaving, but Nat’s voice kept you tethered, kept you from spiraling further.

“It’s Steve,” you whispered, voice barely audible through the sobs. “He—he lied to me, Nat. About… everything.”

Silence on the other end. Nat didn’t press. She didn’t need to. She knew there was more, something deeper, something that had torn you apart from the inside out. And she waited.

“I left,” you managed to choke out, your fingers trembling as you gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. “I just… I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay.”

“Where are you?” Nat asked, her voice calm, steady—a lifeline in the chaos.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, blinking through the blur of tears as you glanced out at the rain-soaked road. You didn’t even know where you had driven to—just away. Away from him, away from the lies, away from everything that had broken you.

“Okay,” Nat’s voice was soothing now, a steady rhythm against the sound of your sobs. “It’s going to be okay, Y/N. Just breathe, alright? I’m coming to get you. Just tell me where you are.”

You coughed, the pain in your chest still sharp, still suffocating. You pressed your forehead against the steering wheel, forcing yourself to take a shallow, shaky breath. “I’m… by the old bridge, off the main road.”

“I know where that is,” Nat said, her voice quick, decisive. “Stay there. Don’t move, okay? I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

You nodded, though she couldn’t see you, your hands still trembling as you pulled them away from the steering wheel. The exhaustion hit you then, hard and heavy, the adrenaline leaving you drained, hollow.

“Nat?” your voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t… I don’t know how to… how to deal with this,” you admitted, your chest tightening again as the sobs threatened to resurface. “I don’t know if I can.”

Nat’s voice was soft, but firm. “You can. And you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

The phone went silent, and for the first time in hours, you let out a breath that didn’t feel like it was tearing you apart.

She was coming.

× × × ×

The rain pounded against the car’s roof, each drop falling harder than the last. It was as if the sky itself had opened up, matching the storm raging inside you. Your hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel, your chest still heaving from the sobs that had wracked your body. The air inside the car felt suffocating. The sound of the blinker—tick, tick, tick—was the only steady thing amidst the chaos of your breath and the downpour outside.

You couldn’t stop shaking.

When Nat’s car finally pulled up beside yours, you didn’t move. You couldn’t. The weight of your grief had pinned you to the seat, your body too exhausted to do anything but tremble. Her car door opened, and within seconds, she was there—ripping your passenger door open and sliding in without hesitation.

“Y/N.” Nat’s voice was soft, firm—grounding.

She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t need to. The look on her face said everything: she knew. She always knew when things were falling apart. Her hand gently rested on your shoulder, the touch comforting in its simplicity.

You tried to speak, but your throat burned, your chest too tight to form words. Another sob broke free instead, and Nat’s hand squeezed your shoulder gently, her presence steady even as your world seemed to collapse around you.

“You’re okay,” she whispered, her voice a soothing anchor. “We’ll get through this.”

But you weren’t okay.

From the corner of your eye, you saw movement just outside the car—Bucky. He stood there in the rain, his hair dripping wet, eyes shadowed with concern as he watched from a distance. He hadn’t stepped closer, hadn’t spoken, but you could feel the weight of his gaze. Like he wanted to be there for you, but wasn’t sure if he should.

The door on Nat’s side clicked as she spoke again, her voice a little more urgent now. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

Slowly, with her guidance, you unclenched your grip from the steering wheel and wiped at your face with shaking hands. Your body was so worn out that you could hardly feel the motion of it as you finally opened the door and stepped out into the rain. Nat was at your side instantly, holding an umbrella over you as she guided you toward her car.

Bucky was there, too, close but not too close, watching every step you took as if he was waiting—waiting for something to fall apart that he could help catch.

Nat opened the back door and gently helped you inside, her presence so calm, so steady, it nearly broke you all over again. “You’re safe now,” she murmured, tucking you in as if you were something fragile. “Just breathe, Y/N.”

You nodded, though your chest still felt like it was caving in. And then, in the middle of the downpour, you heard Bucky’s voice—low, hesitant—from behind Nat.

“I’ll drive her car back to the compound.”

Nat glanced over at him, “Yeah. Thanks.”

You could hear the shuffle of Bucky’s footsteps through the rain as he climbed into your car, the engine rumbling to life. And in that moment, you felt a strange tug of comfort—knowing he was there, that he was watching out for you, even from afar.

Nat slid into the driver’s seat beside you, her hand resting lightly on the gear shift. She turned her head just slightly, her gaze soft. “You’re not alone, Y/N.”

But as she pulled away from the curb, the rain still lashing against the windows, you couldn’t help but feel like part of you had been left behind in the storm—shattered and scattered, waiting to be pieced back together.

And when you glanced out the window, you saw Bucky’s figure in the distance, his eyes never leaving you as you disappeared into the rain.

× × × ×

Nat’s room was a cocoon of warmth compared to the cold, stormy world outside. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated the space, casting long shadows that felt strangely comforting. You sat on the edge of the bed, your arms wrapped around yourself, the weight of everything still heavy on your shoulders. Nat was beside you, her hand resting gently on your knee, her presence steady, unwavering.

“Y/N,” she said softly, her voice laced with concern, “you’re going to get through this. I know it feels like everything’s falling apart right now, but you’re stronger than you think.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding even though you didn’t entirely believe her. The weight in your chest made it hard to breathe, and it felt like no matter how many words of comfort she offered, the broken pieces of your heart would never fully heal. But Nat was there, and her words were like a balm, even if they couldn’t fully take the pain away.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just… I want to get away. Far away.”

Nat’s hand tightened slightly on your knee, her expression understanding. “Where do you want to go?”

From the far side of the room, Bucky shifted, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his face shadowed in the dim light. He hadn’t said much since they brought you back to the compound, but his presence was constant, like a silent protector.

“Where would you go?” Bucky asked quietly, his voice low but steady, cutting through the silence. His blue eyes met yours, calm, as if he’d follow you anywhere if it meant keeping you safe.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart still aching, but then—despite everything, despite the pain—a tiny smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “Switzerland.”

Nat’s eyebrows shot up, a small laugh escaping her lips despite the tension. “Switzerland?”

You shrugged, forcing a laugh of your own, though it was weak. “Yeah. I’ve always wanted to live there. You know… fresh air, the Alps, chocolate. All that good stuff.”

Bucky’s gaze softened, his arms dropping slightly as he watched you. His lips quirked into a faint smile, the kind that barely reached his eyes but still offered some kind of warmth.

“Switzerland, huh?” he said, his voice lighter, though you could still hear the worry beneath it. “Sounds like a solid plan.”

You nodded, trying to hold on to the fleeting moment of levity. “Yeah, I’ll just… disappear into the mountains. Maybe open a chocolate shop. Be a hermit or something.”

Nat let out a small chuckle, squeezing your knee gently. “Well, if you’re moving to Switzerland, I expect free chocolate for life.”

For a moment, the heaviness in the room lifted, the faint laughter between you, Nat, and Bucky providing a small reprieve from the storm inside. But it didn’t last long. The ache in your chest was still there, gnawing at you from the inside out.

“I just… I don’t know if I can stay here,” you whispered, your voice cracking again.

Nat pulled you into a soft hug, her arms wrapped around you as she rested her chin on your shoulder. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now. Just know that whatever you decide, we’re here for you.”

“Let’s go. We’ve got the Quinjet.” Bucky said casually.

You blinked, taken aback, your mind struggling to process if he was serious. “Wait… isn’t that illegal?”

Bucky’s smirk grew a little wider, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Not if you say you’re living in the Alps. No one will know.”

Nat chuckled beside you, shaking her head in disbelief. “Seriously, Buck?”

He shrugged, still leaning casually against the wall. “I’m just saying. You want to go to Switzerland, we can be there in a few hours.”

Despite the exhaustion weighing you down, you couldn’t help but laugh softly, a real one this time. The thought of disappearing into the mountains with Bucky and Nat—away from everything, even just for a moment—felt like a breath of fresh air in the midst of the chaos inside you.

Nat gave you a playful nudge. “See? Even Bucky’s ready to smuggle you out of here if you need it.”

“But I have to handle something first,” he added, his voice dropping slightly, that protective edge returning. “When I’m done, we’ll go.”

× × × ×

The night was dark, the rain having slowed to a light drizzle. Bucky stalked through the compound grounds, his mind racing, heart pounding with a mix of anger and frustration. He’d seen Steve’s name pop up on his phone—a heads-up that the man was on his way here. To see you.

And Bucky couldn’t let that happen. Not after everything Steve did.

Steve’s figure appeared through the mist, walking toward the compound with his usual purposeful stride, but the moment he caught sight of Bucky, his steps slowed.

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice was wary, confused.

“You’re not going in there.” Bucky stepped into his path, his face hard.

Steve frowned, his eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about? I need to see Y/N.”

“You’re not going near her.” Bucky’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“She’s my girlfriend, Bucky. I have a right to talk to her.” Steve’s gaze darkened, his frustration mounting.

Bucky’s laugh was bitter, sharp. “Girlfriend? You lost that right the second you lied to her. The second you hurt her, you punk.”

Steve stepped forward, his voice low, angry. “This isn’t your place. I need to fix this. I need to talk to her.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed with fury, and for a moment, all the years of holding back, of stepping aside for Steve, bubbled to the surface. He moved closer, his voice low and dangerous.

“You don’t get it, do you? I gave up on Y/N for you. I stood back—for you—because I thought you’d take care of her. And now? Now you’ve gone and fucked her over.”

Steve’s face twisted in confusion, anger flashing in his eyes. “What are you talking about? Gave up? She’s never been—”

“She was,” Bucky snapped, cutting him off. “Before you even realized what you had, Steve, I was there. But I didn’t do anything because I thought she’d be better off with you. You were the golden boy, the hero. And now you’ve ruined her.”

Steve’s eyes widened in shock, his chest rising and falling with barely controlled breaths. “You’ve been in love with her this whole time?”

Bucky didn’t flinch. His voice was steady, hard. “Doesn’t matter now, does it? What matters is you hurt her, Steve. You don’t get to fix this on your terms.”

Steve’s fists clenched as he stepped forward, his face twisted with anger. “Move. This is between me and Y/N.”

“I’m not letting you through,” Bucky said, his eyes blazing, daring Steve to push him.

Steve’s frustration boiled over, and with a sharp movement, he shoved Bucky hard in the chest, trying to get past him. “Get out of my way, Bucky!”

Bucky stumbled barely, but he recovered almost immediately. The moment he regained his balance, he shoved Steve back with just as much force, his voice a low, angry growl.

“You’re not going anywhere near her!”

Steve snarled and came at Bucky again, this time grabbing him by the collar and pushing him against the doorframe. “I need to talk to her! You don’t get to decide!”

Bucky’s hands flew up, gripping Steve’s jacket as he shoved him back again, harder this time, their faces inches apart. “She doesn’t want to see you right now!”

Steve’s eyes flashed with desperatiom, and before either of them realized it, they were nose-to-nose, fists clenched, chests heaving, the tension dangerous.

“You think you’re the only one who cares about her?” Steve snapped, his voice low and venomous. “I love her.”

“And you’ve proven exactly what that means to you,” Bucky bit back, his voice filled with icy fury. “You’re not fixing this by charging in like you always do. She’s done with you.”

Steve let out a frustrated growl and swung his arm out, pushing Bucky off him. “You think I’m just supposed to walk away?”

Bucky shoved Steve back again, his grip tightening on Steve’s shirt, their faces just inches apart now. His voice was a low, dangerous growl. “You think stepping in now, after everything you’ve done, makes it better? She’s broken because of you. You did that, Steve. And I’m not letting you make it worse.”

Steve’s nostrils flared, his eyes dark with a mixture of anger and something deeper—guilt, maybe. His grip tightened on Bucky’s jacket as he squared up, their bodies tense, on the edge of an all-out brawl. “And what, you’re just going to sweep in? Take care of her? You think that’s what she needs right now?”

“I’m trying to keep her from getting hurt any more than she already has,” Bucky hissed, his voice barely more than a whisper now, his eyes locked on Steve’s. “She trusted you. She loved you. And you broke her. So yeah, I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep you away from her until she’s ready to deal with you.”

Steve’s breath hitched, his voice sharp with frustration. “You think you’re better than me? You think you haven’t hurt her too?”

Bucky’s grip tightened as his eyes flashed dangerously. “I never lied to her. I never betrayed her.”

Steve let out a short, bitter laugh. “But you kept quiet, didn’t you? You stood there, watching, and said nothing. You let me take her, and now you’re pretending like you’re the hero. But the truth is, you were a coward then, and you’re still a coward now.”

Something snapped in Bucky at those words. His fist shot up, shoving Steve hard enough to slam him back into the doorframe with a loud thud, his chest heaving as he glared at his best friend with pure fury in his eyes. “You don’t get to talk to me about being a coward. I gave her up because I thought she’d be better off with you. But you ruined her, Steve.”

For a second, Steve’s eyes flashed with something close to regret, but the anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface. He stepped forward again, ready for whatever came next. “I didn’t know. I didn’t—”

“You never knew,” Bucky growled, pushing him back again, but this time it was more controlled, less of a full force shove and more of a warning. “You were too busy being the hero to see what was right in front of you.”

Steve took a deep breath, his hands still balled into fists, but something shifted between them—like they both realized, in that moment, that this fight wasn’t going to solve anything. Slowly, almost reluctantly, they both let go of each other, their chests still heaving with the remnants of the almost-fight that had just played out.

The tension between them lingered, thick and heavy in the air, but neither of them moved. They stood there, inches apart, breathing hard, their anger still simmering just beneath the surface.

“You don’t get to just walk in there and fix this,” Bucky said, his voice low but firm.

Steve took a step back, his face still tense with frustration and guilt. He didn’t say anything.

“Go home Steve.” Bucky insisted, “You’ve done enough.”

× × × ×

6 months later.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee curled in the air as you stepped out of the café, clutching the two steaming cups in your hands. The world seemed quieter here, like the city didn’t press in on you quite as much, even though you had only been back for a few days. Six months. Six months of distance, of trying to build yourself back up after being shattered into pieces.

You inhaled deeply, letting the cool breeze rush over you, easing some of the tension coiled tight in your chest.

And then—everything stopped.

From across the street, you felt it. The weight of someone’s gaze locking onto you. Slowly, you looked up, your heart skipping a beat, your body freezing in place.

Steve.

He stood there, as if time itself had conspired to bring this moment crashing down upon you. His face was frozen in shock, his hand mid-motion as the small boy next to him tugged on his sleeve, trying to get his attention. But Steve’s focus was entirely on you.

He looked the same—yet older, somehow, like the months had worn him down in ways you hadn’t expected. His eyes—those familiar blue eyes—locked onto yours, and the rest of the world fell away.

Your heart thundered in your ears, drowning out the city’s noise. All that existed was the look on his face—surprise, yes, but there was something else too. Regret. Pain. Questions he couldn’t voice.

You felt rooted to the spot, torn between the urge to run and the overwhelming need to hold your ground. You could see it in his eyes—he wanted to come closer, to ask where you had been, why you left, why you never told him. His hand gripped the boy’s shoulder like he needed something to tether him to the moment.

And then, with a jarring snap, the moment broke.

A warm arm slid around your waist, pulling you into a comforting embrace towards his body.

“Hey love,” Dane Whitman’s familiar British accent rumbled softly beside you, his lips brushing your temple as he pressed a gentle kiss there. “Got your ham and cheese croissant.”

The simple, easy intimacy of it would have been grounding—if not for the fact that you could feel Steve’s eyes still burning into you from across the street. You could sense him standing there, as if the world had collapsed around him. As if he was watching something slip away that he hadn’t even realized he was losing.

Dane’s brow furrowed as he noticed your tension, noticed the way you hadn’t responded, hadn’t even moved.

“Y/N?” he asked softly, leaning down slightly to meet your eyes. His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer.

When you didn’t answer, Dane followed your line of sight.

He stiffened.

You didn’t need to see his expression to know what was happening. The air between the three of you felt charged, heavy with unspoken words, with everything that had been left behind. Dane’s fingers flexed against your waist, a silent claim—a reassurance, or maybe a question he didn’t dare ask.

Because he knew who Steve was. And he knew exactly what seeing him again meant.

You could feel the tension roll through Dane’s body as he lifted his gaze from Steve back to you, his eyes softening. He didn’t ask, didn’t press. But his arm around you was both a comfort and a shield.

“Let’s go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You didn’t dare look back at Steve again. You couldn’t.

Dane gave a subtle nod, but his hold on you never faltered. He gently guided you down the street, his body leaning protectively into yours as if he could shield you from the weight of the past you were leaving behind.

But as you walked away, the image of Steve lingered. You could feel his eyes on you, burning into your back, watching as you disappeared from his reach once again. And even though you didn’t turn around, you knew—you knew—what he had seen.

You. Walking away.

With someone else.

The distance between you and Steve had always been a wound, one you had tried to heal in the months you were gone. But this? This felt like salt poured into an open cut, the sting of it sharper than you’d anticipated.

Because despite everything, despite the way your heart still aches from the cracks he had left, a part of you wondered—what if?

But the life you had returned to wasn’t the one you left. And as Dane’s arm tightened around your waist, grounding you in the present, you knew that the past—no matter how deeply it was woven into your soul—was behind you.

Even if it wasn’t behind Steve.

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers imagines #captain america x female reader #captain america x you #captain america x y/n #captain america smut #captain america imagines #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #chris evans characters #steve rogers fic #steve rogers angst #captain america angst

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brotherwtf · 2 days

Note

I've a hc for omegaverse Clegan. Gale is an omega but is very smart and manipulative. John being the Alpha naturally should be having dominance over him but is very submissive when it comes to Gale. One of his friends(Curt maybe) they're like "You're an Alpha Bucky! You can't let an Omega toss you around like that" and he makes up his mind to tell Gale that he had enough of his games. Later when he meets Gale in barracks, he tries to say something but is coaxed by his sweet sent and he knows Gale is doing it on purpose. He meets his big blue eyes and look up through his lashes and pouty lips and John is like "Dammit!" And is immediately on his knees before Gale even speaks. Gale just smiles knowing he has complete control over his big bad alpha 😈

anon did you just crawl into my brain and pull these ideas out? because this is EXACTLY WHAT I NEED RIGHT NOW

----

Gale always knew he was irresistible to the alphas around him. He had a sickly sweet scent, one that clogged their brain and made them smile so prettily, bending to his whim with just the smallest smile.

He purposefully wore revealing clothing around other alphas, showing off his waist and his ass so that they couldn't possibly resist scenting and marking him up.

It worked especially well with John. John who seemed like he never had the comfort of an omega in his life, smiled big and bright and was perfectly cocky. His scent immediately made Gale feel loopy, brought a warmth into his room that he hadn't seen from an alpha in a long time.

Gale knew from that moment that he was going to make John his.

It wasn't very hard, John seemed to fold at the attention of any omega, but he still had to work for it a little bit.

After long days on the base, Gale would purposefully make his scent sweeter so John would stay in, would urge him to crawl into the nest of sheets he made just so he could smell the thick and heady scent of an alpha. He would bat his eyelashes just so, bite his lip until it was swollen and plump, all so John would bend to his whim.

And it worked, John was bewitched, mind, body and soul by the sweetness that was Gale.

John was so willing to please his omega, wanted nothing more than for him to be happy and sated, craved that sweet sweet smell that was associated with a Gale that was content. This often meant having his knot or his cock available whenever Gale wanted it, which was often.

John didn't complain, he honestly liked being readily available for Gale whenever he needed him, couldn't complain because he felt good when Gale used him, too. It was only when Curt started asking questions that Gale started to see some doubt in Gale.

It wasn't normal, this dynamic between them. Alphas were supposed to be the ones in control, domineering over their omega and forcing them to do what they wanted, not the other way around.

So when Curt notices how readily John bends to Gale's commands, alarm bells instantly go off in his head. This wasn't normal, omegas weren't supposed to be this controlling.

He tried to bring it up to John a couple of times in passing, would point at omegas and off-handedly mention how good and submissive they were, man how he wished he had an omega like that, and hey? how's your omega doing? And John just says he's good, he treats him well, and Curt's just so confused.

Even after he tries to subtly push that John and Gales relationship wasn't normal, John wasn't catching the bait. So one day, he just goes outright and says it.

"It's not normal! An omega, pushing an alpha around? Bucky, you gotta say something. Put him in his place!" Curt says and it makes John think.

It wasn't normal, what was going on between him and Gale. He didn't see any other alphas get so easily pushed around by their omegas, didn't see them fall so easily to their whim. So he decides he's going to say something to Gale, to try and make their dynamic more normal.

Once John's back in the dorms, he can already smell Gale's scent, something more sickeningly sweet than usual. It makes John's heady, but he holds his ground, goes up to Gale and stands firm.

"Gale, I'm thinking that you're taking too much control for an omega. I am your alpha, your mate, I feel like I should have more control here," John says, and it almost looks like Gale believes him.

Gale's definitely shocked, mouth slightly agape as he looks John up and down. But then his face splits into a coy smile, and the room gets somehow sweeter.

"Really? Am I being too controlling? I'm sorry darling, I swear I'll stop, forgive me?" Gale says, looking up through his lashes and John knows, he just fucking knows that Gales controlling him.

He wants to fight back, wants to tell Gale to fuck off, but Gales sat on the bed, spreading his legs and beckoning for John to crawl between them, and who is Gale to deny his omega?

#clegan #mota #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #asks

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ancha-aus · 2 days

Text

RealAgeAU Drabble - Training

I am back with this AU :D @spotaus

This drabble is a lot earlier than the last few drabbles. shortly after Nightmare's first birthday, and kidnapping.

The gang decides they should really start to learn more about their new powers :3

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

*------------------------*

Cross nods as he crosses his arms “You guys ready?”

Dust looks very unhappy to be up already, Horror is next to him trying to get him to stand up. Killer just grins and salutes “Yes sir!” and he throws in a wink.

Cross ignores the obvious flirt as he tells his own body to cool it. Not the time nor place.

Cross takes a deep breath and continues on with what he was saying “Good! It is time we do something which we should have done long ago.”

Killer raises a hand “Make out more?”

Dust just keeps laying in the dirt. Not making a single move to get up “We already do that now.”

Killer nods “We should still do it more.”

Cross sputters and glares “Training! We need to train!” They had tugged Nightmare in for a nap in a nice warm little nest in a sunny spot nearby them. He is still sound asleep and hopefully he will sleep right through this all.

Cross has high hopes for that as Nightmare seemed to hardly wake up whenever they made noise.

Cross glares at the two on the ground “I am serious!”

Horror chuckles and stands by his side “Calm Cookie.” And he rubs his shoulder and Cross feels part of him melt as Horror smiles at him. God what did he do to deserve them all?

Cross feels reassured and turns back to Killer and Dust his two more unmotivated mates, oooh he is still not over the fact he can call them his mates now! “I am serious! We need to practise our new powers!” especially with Nightmare suddenly getting new powers as well. They need to be prepared.

If… if anything like that kidnapping happens again… Cross had been so lucky his powers just… worked with him instead of doing the normal uncontrollable flickering in and out of view. They need to practise this and work on it! They need to be ready!

Killer sighs as he leans on his hand “How do we plan to do that exactly? I don’t have something that we can just work with without going around town and telling lies and hoping it doesn’t backfire. And Dusty still shocks us when he gets overcharged.”

Dust just points at Killer as if to say ‘what he said.’

Horror hums “May be hard… but we need to practise and learn. Having the powers and magic won’t be useful until we can control them and know their limits.”

Cross nods “We can’t count on powers we can’t control. Even if we can’t control it we need to at least understand our limits a bit better.”

Killer pouts “You guys are my limit.” Then he grins and winks as he finger guns at them “And my weakness.”

Dust groans from the ground as he just covers his face with his arm “Can’t believe I agreed to this madness.”

Killer grins and pokes his cheek “You did! And now you are stuck with me!” Killr sounds very happy about it.

Cross glares “Guys I am serious! What is Nightmare gets taken again and we can’t do anything because we don’t understand our powers!?”

Killer’s face grows dark as he crosses his arms “Won’t happen again.”

Cross glares “We don’t know that. That is why we need to practise and learn.” He checks his mates. Killer sighs but gives in with a pout and a nod. Dust may not have moved but he is still here which counts. Horror had been down for this idea from the start.

Cross nods “Good!”

Dust speaks from the ground “How exactly?”

Cross frowns as he thinks “well… we need to figure out what triggers the powers… So try some stuff…” He stands up taller “I will go first!” It is easy! He did this before. He knows how to train and practise new skills or ideas for moves. He just needs to get in the right mindset.

Horror nods and joins Killer and Dust, forcing Dust to sit up right as well.

Cross takes a few deep breaths. Something about his magic makes him able to be invisible. Lets try that first.

He thinks about hiding. About staying out of sight. About following people quietly.

Cross opens a socket but sees this three boyfriends still watching him. Okay. He is still visible.

Mmh.

Cross closes his sockets and thinks. Hiding. Being invisible. Not being noticed.

No exclaim that it worked.

Cross stops as he taps his chin in thought. He is doing something wrong with this. He doesn’t even feel his magic react to his request.

Killer leans on a hand as he watches “No luck?”

Cross shakes his skull “Not yet… It doesn’t react to me thinking and wanting to hide or anything like it… I figured that would be a trigger at least.”

Horror frowns “Nothing?”

Cross sighs as he rubs his neck “Nothing.”

Dust yawns as he watches “Maybe it wasn’t hiding. You weren’t exactly hiding when you went after those assholes who took Nightmare.”

Cross frowns and shakes his skull “I was thinking about following them and not being noticed.” Neither worked.

Dust yawns “I would say you were doing a bit more than just being not noticed or following them but sure. It is a start.”

Killer shoots Dsut a look “I mean. We always notice him anyway.”

Dust snorts and nods “Very true.”

Horror looks at both of them disapproving but shoots him an apologetic smile.

Cross however knows he has a frown on his face. Thinking back to when his powers tended to activate… Generally it was when he wanted to hide or not be seen. But when he thought about more context to when he wanted that. Then it only happened when he was already nervous about something. Normally in some way related to them being discovered and found. Or more specifically, Nightmare being found.

But when it reacted? When it actually did what he wanted and needed? It was when he was focused on hunting down the pieces of filth that took their babybones…

Cross takes another deep breath and focuses. He thinks back to that mad dash. That rushed feeling. The need to get his baby back to his side right that second.

That is when this power had answered. That is when he had had most control. Without even needing to think. It had moved and done what he wanted without having to focus.

It isn’t about focus.

It isn’t about control.

It is about trust.

Cross forces his shoulders to relax. Focusses on the trust he feels in his mates. The trust in himself to do what he can. That he is able.

“Cross you are doing it!”

Cross opens a socket and watches as patches of him are hidden and others aren’t. It doesn’t feel like being gone or being unnoticed… It feels like parts of him are covered in a thin blanket. Cross mentally grabs it and just imagines wrapping himself with it.

And he is gone from view.

“Cross you did it!” Killer cheers “Way to go Crossy!”

Cross however has no control. It is like how he trusts his body to catch him when he jumps off something. How he trusts his body to run and catch him. How he trusts his movement.

It isn’t just a power he can lead or learn to control. It is different. It is like his body.

Cross takes a few steps around. Noticing that he is completely silent as well. huh. Strange. Still Cross speaks just to test “Seems like it isn’t only sight. My steps are much more silent than I am used to.”

Dust tilts his skull confused “Well.. .when you speak we can hear you just fine…”

Horror hums “Like when you want to speak you are obvious. But otherwise hidden.”

Cross shakes his skull and his mates blink confused at him. Cross glances down and sees his is visible again. Huh. As soon as he wanted-no, tried to communicate nonverbal he became visible again.

It isn’t focus. It isn’t thought.

Cross looks up at them “It is instinct.”

Horror, Killer and Dust all share confused looks before looking at Cross.

Cross shakes his skull as he tries to put his thoughts into words “It is instincts. These powers? It is more than just power or magic or movements. It is more than skill. It is about…” he can’t find the words. It is so strange. He is used to having to practise and work and try again and again. Failing over and over until you finally get the basics and then you work from there.

The powers are still finicky. Unpredictable. But they are there. Ready to work at just the right… need? Want? Wish? Hope? Anything for them to work.

Killer hums thoughtful “huh… maybe that is why my stuff just… acts the whole time? Because when I tell white lies I want people to believe it? So it just does the thing…” He frowns “especially with the woman in fur and mud… explains why she hasn’t tried to sue us yet.”

Dust glares at him “Don’t tempt faith…” but he leans on his leg “Doesn’t explain my stuff… the static just grows a lot… and if I don’t use magic we get another thunder storm situation.”

Horror shakes his skull “it does make sense. You want to protect Nightmare. Be ready. Your magic and body and power work together to have everything it needs to act right away.”

Dust frowns before huffing as he looks to the side “Whatever.”

Cross feels his soul give a little flutter. Can you blame him?! Dust looks so embarrassed wit his tiny blush!

Killer grins as Horror “Your turn H!”

Cross nods and quickly changes places with Horror.

Horror seems to think as he stands there. Considering the ground for a moment before making a pulling motion.

The ground shudders and a tiny piece of ground seems to slowly move over while other ground moves to fill in the space left behind.

Killer sighs as he leans against his knee as he stares “Looking good!”

Cross can’t help but agree. Horror has somehow figured his stuff out just passively. By careful and gentle nudging and feeling the powers out. He hadn’t been able to explain just muttered about moving what felt natural.

Killer had sighed wishfully that he wished he could do that stuff.

Cross for one is happy Killer doesn’t have this power. He would either try to dig a very deep hole or just make a very large tower. Cross isn’t sure which option would be worse.

Horror shrugs as he moves back to the group. He joins them and Dust leans against his side. Staring hard at the ground that moved so effortlessly for Horror.

Cross smiles at Horror “amazing.”

Horror shrugs as he mutters “It is physical. I don’t create or destroy stuff. It is about moving stuff one way and pushing other stuff to fill what is left…” he shrugs.

Dust chuckles as he just leans against Horror “That is amazing…” he stares at his own hand and frowns.

Horror just pulls him closer as Killer leans happily against Dust with a large grin “Your lightning is real cool~” Killer lowers his voice in a purr as he keeps staring at Dust. Cross isn’t sure if Killer is trying to flirt right now, or force Dust to believe what he says even if Killer knows his power doesn’t work against them. Killer just continues to talk when he sees Dust roll his eyes. Killer purrs and just lays on Dust as he purrs at him. Dust looks away from him with a tiny blush.

Killer grins and purrs “So much power. Just at the tips of your fingers. Only thing keeping it from exploding and destroying everything is your control and stubbornness to keep it tempered down~ Yet not once did you ever zap Nighty with it.” Killer grins wider as Dust starts to blush and look embarrassed.

Yeah. Cross gets it. Killer can get intense with his affection… Cross also still gets overwhelmed with it.

Cross is happy they know how to help Dust. It sometimes stings a little that those three had already been so close long before Cross joined them. He notices it with moments like these. When he is lost in what to do or how to act or help and-

Oh no Kiler is watching him.

Killer looks at him critically before grinning and pulling him closer until he is right up against Dust and Killer expends to cover both their laps.

Killer grins at Cross with a clearly mischievous look in his eyes “Great idea Cross! And you figured your stuff out so quickly! You just needed a moment to learn and study your skill and boom! You understand it! and thanks to that we could better understand ours! Fucking brilliant and fucking talented. Skilled beyond believe and you know yourself and your magic so well which just makes this so much more impressive!”

Cross knows he is blushing. He tugs his little bandana up to try and cover part of his face. His bandana had been a gift from the others… because he mentioned how he used to have his own bandana much like blue used to have. And they just got him a new one. It is a nice grey one with purple stripes. It is soft and fuck now he is just more embarrassed as he tries to hide from Killer’s compliments with the very gift his mates gave him!

Horror doesn’t stop it. Instead he just smiles at them with that handsome little smile as Dust and him just have to suffer through the storm of compliments.

Killer grins as he looks so happy as he just stares up at them from his spot of honour “And then you guys just look fucking amazing when we have some time to ourselves as well.”

Cross glares as he feels like his skull will explode and he hisses “Killer. Not with Nightmare so close.”

Killer laughs and winks at them “It is fine. He is asleep anyway-”

A small yawn “Are we cuddling?”

They turn around and spot Nightmare standing next to them. One hand rubbing his sockets while he other is holding unto one of the blankets from his other nest.

Dust is quick to focus on their baby “We are taking a break from practise. You slept well?”

Nightmare yawns again and climbs over Killer to get to the spot where Cross and Dust sit against one another. Nightmare gets to his spot which makes him able to snuggle into both their sides. A happy little hum as he closes his sockets.

Cross carefully takes the little blanket and tugs it around their little child. All cozy and comfortable.

Killer’s purring has only grown in volume as he watches them. Perfectly comfortable to lay across their laps with Nightmare snuggled in against all three of their sides.

Horror pulls them closer and sighs happily “A break sounds perfect.”

Cross laughs and nods. Sure they hadn’t practised much yet but they already got their goal completed. Which was to better understand their powers.

Now? He just wants to enjoy this moment. How comfortable and loved he feels between his mates with their son.

*------------------------*

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#utmv #realageau #nightmare sans #deaged nightmare #dust sans #killer sans #cross sans #horror sans #We are back with my boys!#And the guys decided they should learn their powers #and with guys i mean Cross.#Cross decided they should figure this out.#This is also shortly after they agreed to try dating so they are still getting used to that as well!#Much earlier in the timeline than our last drabble but i watned to write this one #So i did :D #I also like the idea that both Cross and Dsut don't know how to handle praise/compliments because of different reasons #Killer loves to compliment them #and i had to add the baby to cuddle with them <3

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thewhumpcaretaker · 1 day

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⚜ Marquis of Los Angeles: Ch. 4 - Not Like This

ཐི♡ཋྀ Thank you for the beta-read, @evrensadwrn! ཐི♡ཋྀ

Summary: Vincent tries to flee Venture Tower, but instead finds himself in an even worse position...and gets confirmation that no one is looking for him.

TW: severe injuries being healed by vampire magic, vampire bite against Vincent's will, passing out, tied up, grief, funeral and heavy discussion of death

Not like this. Not from being thrown down his own damn stairwell by his own out-of-control ghoul. No thank you.

Fate seemed willing to oblige. Sebastian was lucky to have been dropped face-first, and to be able to throw out his arms on the way down, catching on the passing railings and bracing for final impact against the ground with his arms and legs which, unlike his brain, were sure to heal. So he landed on all fours with all the agility of a cat - and none of its grace.

The nerves in his crushed limbs flickered in and out of functionality, each flicker bringing a stab of searing pain. They were approaching full, excruciating functionality as the last drop of blood in his body burned away into vital energy. He could feel his empty veins collapsing in the same rhythm that his bones snapped back into place, and then he was spent, though still not fully healed.

He just lay on the floor and screamed, “VINCENT!”

Somewhere overhead, he could swear there was an echo of a giggle. It was drowned out in more inadvertent screams. He hardly knew what sounds he was making, only that they tore at his throat on the way out. God that hurt. Rarely had LaCroix felt another person’s power overwhelm him so directly. How long had it been since his life was in any real danger – not the paranoia and risky politics that constantly attended him, but immediate danger? He’d almost forgotten how visceral it was, how it dragged him back to Waterloo, how it rendered time and space meaningless, how small it made him feel. And Vincent, by contrast, felt enormous, towering over him in the echoing heights.

But Vincent was out of the stairwell and no doubt in the elevator, descending. He was trying to get out, to get away. Sebastian mustered what little command he could over his muscles and starting crawling towards the lobby door.

He stumbled out just as the elevator doors opened, collapsed to the floor again, and kept crawling. “He is not allowed to pass!” LaCroix bellowed hoarsely at the security guard.

Chunk stepped into his path. “My apologies Mister, but uh – “ Vincent’s answer was a punch that sent him reeling. There were only paces between Vincent and the Venture Tower doors.

No matter. LaCroix had him. His hands closed around Vincent’s ankle, trembling in a mix of pain and desperate fury. “Give back the blood you forced me to waste, you ingrate!”

It was good that the Venture Tower doors were frosted, because any passerby would have had the pleasure of seeing the rich eat each other. With no power to spare for any attempt at domination, LaCroix simply sunk his teeth into the Marquis’ ankle like a small but rabid chihuahua. Vincent, in his turn, toppled over screaming and kicking his feet to try to shake him off.

So it happened that Sebastian LaCroix fed on the Marquis Vincent de Gramont for the first time, too frenzied even to taste him, until the Marquis, already weakened from lack of food and sleep, blacked out on the floor of his lobby.

.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸. ཐི♡ཋྀ.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.

Vincent awoke being carried, with thousands of tiny pins pricking at his fingertips and a horrible wooziness dulling out every other sensation. But what did it matter – his body was being cradled so gently that he hardly minded how bloodless he felt. He moaned into the folds of the overcoat that his savior was wearing. It answered him silently with a sweet but dark scent, magnolia and bergamot pulled down by something heavier…leather probably. And in the distance, iron…

Vincent’s eyes shot open. Sebastian. Sebastian was carrying him. He had not gotten away, and his ankle was bleeding, and they were reentering the same dazzling suite he had just left. He was too miserable to speak.

Sebastian had no such problem. He carried Vincent into a side room, some kind of parlor with chairs and a sofa arranged around a coffee table, and talked the whole while. “You cannot be trusted to roam free, it seems. I have given you every opportunity to cooperate, and this is how I am rewarded: with attempted regicide.” He pulled a rope from a nearby chest of drawers and started winded it around Vincent’s torso, strapping him to the chair. Around his wrists it went, too, and his ankles, irritating the fresh wound. Vincent’s heart was going wild but he was too weak to struggle. The tirade continued. “Do you have any idea the impact your actions would have had on your own future? I am your sole protector. I made the decision, at great personal risk, to cross an ocean and save your life, and to shepherd you through an unfamiliar world. I could have drained you of every High Table secret, and then your blood, and then left you to die, but I – “

He cut himself short, continuing a moment later. “You’re very fortunate that leadership has taught me not to negotiate when my temper is running too hot. We will discuss your future later. I’m going out to finish feeding, and to attend to business. Let us both pray that by the time I return, we can stand the sight of each other.”

The room spun as Vincent turned his head towards his captor in alarm. “No! Wait!” But he was already slamming the door. “Stop! You can’t leave me here! I – I’m still bleeding! I could die! You want me alive, don’t you?” That was the elevator doors opening. And closing.

Damn you, LaCroix. He could still smell magnolias.

The first half hour was the hardest. It was spent fighting down panic and slipping into half-consciousness every time he succeeded. At some point, he fainted a second time and only came back to himself to find The Sheriff untying him. “Le patron m'a envoyé pour te nourrir. [Boss sent me to feed you.]”

“Pour que tu puisses parler après tout. [So you can talk after all],” he replied blearily.

“Bien sûr que je peux. J'ai juste un peu peur d'utiliser mon anglais. Le prince LaCroix a la gentillesse de me parler français quand il le peut. [Of course I can. I am just a little shy of using my English. Prince LaCroix is kind enough to speak French with me when he can.]”

“Le « Prince LaCroix » n’a jamais été gentil, qu’il soit mort ou vivant. [’Prince LaCroix’ has never been kind whether dead or alive],” he muttered. But the hearty meal and wine that were laid out in front of him suggested otherwise. There was even a dessert of cherry cheesecake drizzled with syrup. He asked, hesitantly, whether it had been the Sheriff’s decision to give him such a delicious spread.

“Non, c'était le Prince. Il a dit que vous deviez restaurer votre glycémie et ne ménager aucune dépense. [No, sir, it was the Prince. He said you needed to restore your blood sugar, and to spare no expense.]”

“Hmm.” He averted his eyes from the Sheriff and turned on the television to fill the silence, before starting on the cheesecake. Why did the slightest mention of LaCroix make him feel so…so…much? Stupid vitae. He hoped LaCroix was off somewhere thinking about what he’d done.

After that, Vincent was tied up again, but at least he didn’t feel on the verge of death. Even the bite mark on his leg felt slightly better. He recalled something Sebastian had mentioned about faster healing for ghouls, somewhere between a vampire and a human. Things weren’t so bad – he was in a beautiful room, in a comfortable chair (perhaps against his will, but that was beside the point), and he’d succeeded in irritating Sebastian to the extent that he had to go off raging somewhere.

And vampires were real.

That was starting to sink in for him. Vampires were real, and he was the only person who knew about it. He could use this to his advantage. How, he wasn’t sure just yet, but it was the kind of secret people risked their lives to learn, and it had fallen into his lap. Could LaCroix be extorted or blackmailed somehow? Were there trade deals possible between the Table and the Camarilla? What it could mean for him, for the High Table…he let himself think of that for hours.

The next time he woke up slumped against his ropes, it was from a long, dreamless, much-needed sleep. Even through the tightly drawn curtains, he could see that it was well into the day. And it sounded as if someone had been saying his name.

“Le marquis a été enterré il y a à peine une heure lors d'un service restreint mais extravagant… [The Marquis was laid to rest just a few hours ago in a small but extravagant service…]”

He had left the TV tuned to a French news channel, half-hoping to hear something about his disappearance. And there on the screen was a sight so surreal he thought he was still dreaming for a moment. There was his family’s crypt, resplendent in solemn, white marble under a sky that was far too blue for the occasion. And a black-clad procession bore a casket into its depths, dripping in white lilies and roses. His casket.

It suddenly hit him that he was thousands of miles away, in the power of something greater than himself. That yesterday, he had, for all intents and purposes, died. He swallowed, trying so hard not to feel anything, but his throat still ached with tightness. The procession wouldn’t stop walking, forward and forward, without him.

“Le marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont périt prématurément à l'âge de 35 ans, après avoir perdu un duel pour une affaire personnelle. Les duels sont bien sûr illégaux en France… [The Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont perished at the untimely young age of 35, after losing a duel over a personal matter. Dueling has, of course, been illegal in France…]” He felt himself flushing. A personal matter? And the admission that it was a duel? Was he to die in disgrace? It slipped his mind for a moment that he was, of course, still breathing. The drama of the thing took over with a visceral, burning frustration. How badly he wanted to take charge of what was happening, tell someone how he had lived, that it hadn’t happened like that… He watched the image blur and dance as the camera followed the procession into the claustrophobic space of the vault where his mother and father already lay side by side.

“Son héritage reste incertain, car le marquis est décédé sans aucun parent proche vivant et avec une ligne de succession peu claire. [His legacy remains uncertain, as the Marquis died with no close living relatives and an unclear line of succession.]”

There were so few people, he realized, with a sinking in his chest. Where were the crowds who adored him? Where were the socialites he had danced with at every ball or even taken to bed? The admirers he had toyed with and spurned, the false friends he had outwitted, the enemies he had so respectably bested? Even his own household staff – where were they? Where was the High Table, for that matter!? His fellow seat holders, didn’t they at least hate him enough to care? But almost no one had shown. Only The Harbinger, and Winston, who looked a little too smug. And…

…and Jude! There was The Adjudicator. He resisted the urge to shout at the screen, and found a strange, strangled noise escaping him instead. Jude! PLEASE! I’M NOT IN THERE! Do you know? Please tell me you know. It had been them that he called, them who heard silence and maybe muffled shouting on the other end of the line. There was a shot of Jude’s gloved hand laying a rose over the top of the casket, where his chest should be. And then they turned right to the camera, as if they could see him on the other side. A flash of hope that they knew, that they would signal to him somehow…and then Jude, who never cried at anything, hid their face in their hands and broke down for him.

They didn’t know it, but they and Vincent were crying together. He was alone, a ghost in his own body, with no one beyond these thick concrete walls who could hear him, and apparently almost no one in the world who cared about him. So what did it matter? He let himself make the kind of broken, anguished sounds that he hadn’t made since he was a child locked in his room alone, until he felt lightheaded all over again.

And then, suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder and the scent of magnolias. “Vincent.”

He gasped – as if he hadn’t already been gasping enough - and turned away in a fruitless attempt to hide his mess of a face. With his hands bound, he couldn’t even wipe away the evidence of his outburst. “Have I – have I been tortured - enough now? Are you back to gloat?” He put as much venom as possible into the words but it hardly mattered between sobs.

There was no answer, just small, deft hands undoing the knots around his wrists and putting a silk handkerchief into his palm. “Clean yourself up.” The words held some pretense of authority, but they were so gentle that it made him imagine things. It almost felt like an allowance – “you may clean yourself up” instead of “you must, you’re disgusting.” He realized Sebastian’s hand was resting on his back now, stroking in circles, and broke down further for a moment before finally regaining control of himself.

Sebastian turned the TV off and it was suddenly very quiet, the only sound that of his own forced breathing. Sebastian, it seemed, wasn’t breathing at the moment. “…Thank you.” He should say something lighthearted or cruel, something to deflect, but he simply…couldn’t. He could only say true things right now, and it put him at Sebastian’s mercy. The best he could do was, “You know, I’ve sort of always wanted to watch my own funeral anyway. I think that’s something everyone fantasizes about, no?”

Sebastian’s hand on his back went still, and then moved over the front of his shoulder. It felt so damn comforting, almost like an embrace. “…I can’t say I do. I’ve died once, and watched my funeral, and I don’t care to repeat it.”

“…Oh,” said Vincent lamely.

“Did you choose the casket, in your will?”

“Yes. I did.”

“I thought it seemed…to your tastes.” After a moment, he added, “It was beautiful.” And after another moment, “I’m sorry, Vincent.” The way one says “I’m sorry” at a funeral – with a combination of unbearable shallowness and unbearable weight, inadequate to convey what must be conveyed and yet so, so valuable for at least trying.

He looked at Sebastian’s hand, still resting on his chest. “It’s not…really your fault. At least not that part. I would be dead in one sense or another either way. I lost.” He exhaled in something between humor and total despair. “I lost,” he repeated.

“By the standards of kine,” said Sebastian. “But someone loved you enough to reach beyond the natural world to save you. And you have so much more to gain now. I don’t offer a place in my court to just anyone. It’s a high honor in this city. There is so much you could achieve as my protégé, far beyond human politics. There are kinds of safety and power and vitality that the masses will never know.”

“As your protégé…” Vincent echoed mockingly. “Your precious pageboy.” But he took a deep breath, finally calm, finally considering. “I would be very foolish to agree to that without conditions.”

He could feel Sebastian’s tension relax. Now they were in negotiations, something both of them could handle. “And what are your conditions, ghoul?”

“Ghoul, cute.” A patronizing smile. “You do not call me a ghoul, and you do not treat me as a ghoul. If it comforts you to have some pretense of control over me, I will accept your vitae.” He couldn’t help licking his lips already at the thought of more, in fact… “But we both know you cannot control me, so don’t treat me like I’m anything less than you. You will show me respect.”

“I suppose…I hardly have a choice about that.”

“Very good. Only one more condition.”

“Which is?”

Vincent tipped back his head to look up at him, to see the look on his face when he heard this one. “Say you’re sorry.”

It was a very, very satisfying look. “For what!?”

“If you don’t know, I can’t be bothered to explain.” Sebastian sucked in a breath, fighting with his temper again.

“I…” It seemed to come with enormous difficulty. “I…am…sorry, Vincent.”

“For?”

“For…gnawing on your ankle rather more unexpectedly than is customary.”

“Do go on.”

“…And for dominating you, which it seems you did not enjoy even though that’s not the typical response of a ghoul and I can’t have known. I’m sorry I tied you up alone in such a stressful situation and…made you cry. And I’m sorry for saying that your bodyguard’s death was splendid when I know what a bodyguard means to a person in a position like yours or mine. And I’m sorry for treating you like livestock when you are in fact quite bright and capable and may go farther in this organization than either of us yet know. And I’m sorry about your old life and about your funeral and – “

“Stop, that’s – that’s quite enough.” Vincent found that handkerchief was once again useful. He took a deep breath and said, “We have a deal.”

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

Image Sources: One | Two

#marquis de gramont x sebastian lacroix #marquis de gramont #sweetblood #sebastian lacroix #vtm jw #wickblr #vampire the masquerade #whump fic #enemies to lovers

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blizzardfluffykpop · 2 days

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Under the Glow of Candlelight

Summary: At your usual best friend sleepovers, you started talking about your unsatisfying exes, one thing leads to another. And soon you’re on top of your best friend, under the glow of candle lights.

Oneshot

Smut, PW?P, Fluff?, Best friends to *official* lovers

If you are a minor, please do not read/engage with this post. This is an 18+ work.

Warnings: Unprotected Sex (pls practice safe sex), Soft dom! Juyeon, Cowgirl position, Body Worship, Marking (m! & f! receiving), Slight Possessiveness, Tit-sucking & fondling (f! receiving), Praise, One (1) ass smack (f! receiving), Creampie, Candles lit and glowing (no candle/temperature/wax play), Talking about previous partners & positions, Mentions of prev. talks about masturbation, *Aftercare*, Use of pet names: Princess, Baby, and Sweetheart *And if I missed any pls lmk!*

Word Count: 2,739

Juyeon X Fem!Reader

Again, if you are a minor, please do not read/engage with this post. This is an 18+ work.

------

Juyeon, above all, was your best friend, so telling him exactly how you liked to be fucked didn’t seem out of the blue. After all, the two of you had talked about how you masturbated before. Why would this be any different? “Yeah, remember my last boyfriend?” He hums, “Yeah, he was kind of boring.” You groan, sitting upside down and looking up at the ceiling, “And god, he was boring in bed too.” He lets out a soft laugh, as you tell him, finally looking over at him, “I just like it when someone’s rougher and can take me like they own me y’know?” He nods, “Yeah, rougher is more fun. But you? Of all people- Want someone to act like they own you?” You laugh, “It’s kind of funny when you put it that way. But I just want them to be in charge.” His mouth is ajar as he nods, “That makes more sense.” You hum, and he asks, “Then what’s your favorite position?” You grin, “Guess.” And you watch as he thinks before he answers, “I don’t know, cowgirl?” You gasp, “How’d you know?” He shrugs, “I’ve known you since we were little. You always like to look like you’re in charge… And well, with you saying you want someone to actually be in charge… It just made sense.” You laugh, “Well, what about you?” He shrugs, “I think you already know…” You gasp, “No way…” His smile turns into a smirk as he does, “You know I’m a sucker for being underneath. You get so much more access that way… I can control the pace and suck on some pretty tits? Princess, that’s the dream…” You laugh, “I can’t believe we like the same position for different reasons.” He tilts his head at you, “You can’t?”

You shrug, finally flipping to be right-side up on his couch, “I don’t know, I always pictured you as an ass guy so-” He shakes his head as he shoves your shoulder, and you fall over teasingly before getting back up, “I am. But that’s why it’s one of the best positions. I get to have a handful of it as I take control.” You let out an ‘ahh’ as it makes sense to you. And you ask, “What was your last girlfriend like… What was her name? Jen? Jennet?” “You mean Jeanie?” You nod, and he groans, “Ugh, she only liked me to hit it from the back, and it had to be in total darkness… And as much as that’s nice… I love seeing someone come undone for me.” You tilt your head, “You like to fuck with the overhead lights on, or?” He shrugs, “At least candles…” You push his shoulder, “Ohh, so romantic.” He rolls his eyes, “What? A little romance is boring for you?” And you shrug, fiddling with your pajama shorts, “Never had the opportunity to fuck with them lit.” He shakes his head, “You don’t fuck with candles on-” “Don’t you dare-” “You make love with them lit.” You groan, “Ugh… you had to say that.” He looks at you confused, “Have you never made love either?” You shrug, “I guess I’ve come close to it?” He looks at you weirdly, “What do you mean you’ve come close? I thought you loved that one girl.” You sigh, “I did- but like- I don’t know? I don’t think I’ve ever genuinely had sex to make love. It’s always been with the goal of getting off- nothing else.” Juyeon shakes his head, “Now who’s the boring one, baby?” You roll your eyes, “I was shedding my heart to you, and here you are-” He cuts you off, “Well, have you ever wanted to?” You think back to all your exes, “Well, yeah, I guess? I don’t know, I never really thought about it...”

He squints at you, “Really?” You shrug and ask him, “Well, have you ever made love?” He hums, running his hand through his hair, “Most of the time. You know I’m a bit slower, and it takes me some time to catch on, right?” You nod, and he continues, “I take my time figuring out what makes them tick and it’s just a lot more intimate feeling than fucking just to get off, you know?” You sigh, “I wish I did…” And he hums, “Well, what if you could?” You look over at him, “How so?” He shrugs, “We could.” You give him an odd look, “I don’t know if we should. It’s one thing to fuck your friends. But to make love with them?” He looks into your eyes as you continue, “Isn’t that drawing the line? Aren’t you supposed to only do that with people you love?” He shrugs, “I love you a lot, doesn’t that count?” You look at him, “I mean... I love you too, but I don’t know if we should make love. Because wouldn’t that make us more than we are?” He shrugs, “I don’t know, only one way to find out though… Of course, if you want to, it's on the table. If not, we can forget it and just continue talking about our unsatisfying exes.” You hum and think about it. On one hand, you could be ruining a friendship you’ve cherished for years. On the other hand, you could be starting a new forever with him. And you kind of like that thought.

So, you shrug, “Why not?” He smiles as he goes, “Let’s go to my room.” You nod, and he leads you down the hall to his room. He opens the door, lets you in, and gestures for you to sit on his bed. “One second.” You get comfy laying there watching him find his lighter and arrange the candles in his room before lighting them one at a time. He puts the lighter down before turning off the overhead light, and the candles cast a soft amber glow over the room, “Woah…” He smiles, “Beautiful, right?” You hum in agreement and whisper as he walks towards you, “I don’t know how anyone would pass this up.” He shrugs, unsure as to why, either. As he crawls over you, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” You nod, and he leans over you and gives you a second to back away and back out before he kisses you.

You sigh when he pulls away. It finally feels like the pieces are coming together. His hand slowly moves up your shirt, and you ask, “Are we really going to do this?” He looks into your eyes, “Not if you don’t want to.” You shake your head, “No, that’s not what I meant. I just- I love you, and I don’t know if that will change.” He kisses your forehead, “If it helps you any, it won’t make me love you any less.” You look into his eyes, “It does.” “Will you love me any less?” You shake your head, and he smiles, “Then the only thing that could change is?” You hum, wondering what he’s about to say, “We find we like having sex together, and we fall deeper for each other.” You shrug as you agree, “Yeah, I guess so.” He asks, “Will you love me any less if I don’t fuck you good?” You laugh, “Nah, I just won’t ever have sex with you again. Will you feel the same?” He smiles, “Yeah.” You nod, “Okay.” “Then it’s settled.” He pulls you in for another kiss, and you let yourself fully enjoy it.

He pushes your shirt to the side to leave kisses along your collarbone before slowly dragging your shirt up and over your head. He smiles as he takes a moment to appreciate your chest. You blush before he sinks down and drags slow kisses along your chest, worshiping your body like it was a temple. He sucks on one of your nipples as he wraps his hand around the other, gently kneading before pulling back to suck on the other. You let out soft moans as he continues playing with your breasts. After a couple of minutes, he finally pulls away to capture your lips in his, slowly making out with you. When he pulls away this time, he gives you a quick peck before trailing his kisses down your torso.

He lets out soft hums of appreciation as he kisses along your stomach, finally reaching the top of your pajama bottoms. He moves up, peeling them off before dragging your panties down. He lets out a content hum as he looks you fully over. “You look good like this, princess…” He gets up from the bed and takes off his clothes slowly, and you drink it in. Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this with your best friend. But it felt so right. You smile as he sits down beside you. He gently grabs your sides, lifting you up before placing you on his lap. He smiles as he tells you, “Hmm, yeah, you look like you belong here.” You blush as you look at his eyes and see them filled with adoration. It made you feel a sense of pride as you smiled, “I think I’ll look better with you in me.” He chuckles, “We’ll at least feel better.” You laugh as he lines you up, and you slowly sink down onto his cock.

You both let out a breath when you fully sink down, making you both laugh a little. Juyeon hums, admiring you from a new angle, “God, you look so beautiful.” You blush and bury your head into his neck, littering kisses along his collar as you bounce on his lap a little bit. When you feel his hands move around your hips, before he starts bouncing you up and down, taking control over your movements, he lets out soft little groans as he works you both into a pace. You mumble against his collarbone, “You feel so good, Ju…” And he hums as you feel his hands move down along you as he changes his grip to get a better hold of you. When suddenly, he smacks your ass, and you let out a shocked moan as you look back at him. He grins as he soothes his hand over the mark he left and lets out a groan, “You have such a good ass, baby…” He picks the pace back up as you suck a hickey onto his collarbone, marking him as yours. You didn’t want him making love to anyone but you.

He kisses your neck gently, not leaving hickeys, just kissing you like you always wished to be. He mumbles against your chest, “Fuck, I love you.” You kiss the top of his head and murmur, “I love you too.” He holds you close to him, burying his face into your chest as he thrusts up into you. You’ve never felt so close to someone before as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, resting your head on his as you both take in the moment. You pull back as he finally finds the spot that makes you moan loudly. He asks, “Right there, baby?” You let out a little noise as you try to tell him, ‘Yes’. And you see his smile grow as you let your head fall back, as he starts hitting the same spot over and over. He wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking on it as he continues his motions. With the energy you have left to talk, you ask, “Can.. can you… can you hold my hand?” He hums as he looks up at you with his mouth full before moving a hand from underneath you. He holds it out to you, and you interlock your fingers, holding his hand tightly.

His other hand moves up, taking hold of your hip to hold you better as you hold his hand. He continues alternating between both of your breasts as he sucks and nibbles on them, littering them with marks as he does. He pulls away to capture your lips in his, and you both groan into the kiss. When he pulls away, you gasp and hold his hand together before shoving your face into his neck, “Ju… Juyeon.” He groans, “Are you close, sweetheart?” You whine and feel him smile into your collarbone, “I’ll take that as a yes.” You feel his fingers finally circle your clit, and you gasp as your legs start to shake. He whispers, “Come on, you can do it... Cum all over my cock, princess.” You cry out, and he encourages you one last time before you do. And he groans at the sight, mumbling, “You look divine…” As his hips start to stutter underneath you as he reaches his own end, squeezing your hand.

You look down, huffing out little breaths as you both regulate your breathing. When you look back up at him, you find he’s already looking at you with a dazed smile. And he asks, “So, how was that?” You sigh heavily, “I hope we make love many more times.” His lips curl, and his eyes squint as he grins, “I hope so too, princess.” He kisses you gently. And you smile as you kiss back, finally feeling content. After a couple more minutes, when you’re both fully calm down, he pulls out, and you whine at the loss of sensation, which makes you both giggle. He kisses your nose, “That was cute…” You blush, and he pulls you into his arms to hold you close to him again. You sigh contently if this is what making love felt like. You didn’t want to have it with anyone else. After a while of listening to each other’s heartbeats, he finally speaks up, “So, what do you say we get you cleaned up?” You sigh, “I guess.” He nods and adjusts you in his grip, “Okay, let’s go.” He gently picks you up and takes you to his bathroom before setting you on the counter.

“You look good sitting there.” You blush, mumble a ‘thanks,’ and watch as he wets a rag. He spreads your legs and cleans up the mess you both made between them. When he moves the rag away, he smiles and kisses you on the forehead. And wipes his mess off before asking, “Do you need to use the restroom?” You laugh as you smile, “Yeah, I should… Can I kiss you?” He smiles before agreeing, “Of course.” You place your hand underneath his jaw and pull him in for a kiss, savoring the taste of his lips. He helps you off the counter before heading towards the open door, “I’ll wait for you.” You nod, “Okay.” He shuts the door behind him, goes to the bedroom, and changes the blanket out. When you return, he says, “I got you some clothes out.” You smile, “Thanks, Ju.” He shrugs, “It’s no problem.” You shimmy into them as he starts going around the room, snuffing out the candles. You smile, feeling comfortable in the outfit, and turn around, finding him still closing candle lids, and ask, “Want help?” He smiles, “Yeah.”

You join him, crawling under the bedsheets when you finish snuffing out the candles. You scoot closer before wearily putting your head on his bare chest, “Is this okay?” He grins as he laughs, “I just finished inside of you less than twenty minutes ago. Of course it is.” You laugh as you snuggle into his chest, feeling safe beside him. He moves his arm, wrapping around your side, and asks, “So?” You look up at him, “I liked it.” “Me too.” You speak without thinking, “What does that make us?” And he hums, “I don’t know what were we before?” You shrug, “I think a whole lot more than best friends. All my past lovers thought I was with you so…” He laughs, “Yours too? What do you say we make it official?” You smile, “I’d like that.” He grins, “Me too.” You settle in further into his chest as he whispers, “Do you wanna go to bed? Or do you wanna watch a movie?” You hum, giving it some thought, and he waits, reaching over to his nightstand, already knowing your answer, “Movie, please.” He smiles, grabbing the remote and turning on your guy’s favorite movie. You snuggle into him closer as you enjoy it together for the hundredth time but as lovers for the first time.

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autisticsupervillain · 1 day

Text

It's Fictional Throwdown Friday!

This Week's Fighters...

Siffrin vs Asriel Dreemurr!

Conditions:

Act 5 Final Boss Siffrin vs God of Hyperdeath Asriel.

Scenario:

Asriel begins to reset time in an attempt to regain his childhood with Chara. This pushes Siffrin into the full depths of their mental breakdown, as he refuses to let his experiences with his family be erased.

Analysis: Asriel

Long ago, two races ruled over the Earth: Humans and Monsters. Then, one day, a war broke out between the two races and the Monsters were sealed underground by paranoid Humans. It wasn't until years later that a human ever saw a monster again.

This Fallen Human, named Chara, was found by the young Prince of monster royalty, named Asriel Dreemurr. The two quickly forged a close sibling bond as the Dreemurrs adopted the child, getting up to all sorts of mischief and play. Chara grew to sympathize with their new Monster family and hatched a plan to set them free from the caverns of Mt. Ebott.

Chara would poison themselves by eating some beautiful flowers and then have Asriel absorb their soul. Asriel would use his newfound power to cross the barrier that sealed monsterkind underground and gather the souls of six other humans to destroy the barrier completely, freeing monster kind. But... Asriel could not bring himself to take a human life when the time came and instead put his friend's body to rest in their home village. The Humans saw Asriel carrying the body and assumed he killed her. Even if Asriel had been willing to fight back, Monster bodies are weak against the killing intent of a human. Asriel had barely enough to strength to make it back to his home before his body turned to dust.

This dust landed on a glorious golden Flower, which was experimented on by one Dr. Alphys. Alphys injected the flower with an element known as Determination, a component of a human soul that could control time. Resurrected without any of his emotions intact, Asriel fell into dispair. He took the name Flowey the Flower and set about using his newfound ability to SAVE and RESET the timeline to torment the Underground, basking in his new philosophy of Kill or Be Killed.

One day, a new human fell into the Underground. Frisk, the last human soul needed to break the Underground's barrier. Flowey would use them as a pawn to absorb the six human souls that his heartbroken father had collected in his grief stricken rage, before then absorbing the Souls of all the monsters in the Underground.

Asriel was reborn as a God and he would use his new power to relive his idyllic childhood forever. Reset everything to Zero and have it all over again.

As a Monster, Asriel already had the ability to directly attack, destroy, and even absorb human souls, but when he became Flowey, he became something that was not quite a Monster either, giving him the ability to destroy Monster souls as well. As such, unless and entity has the ability to resist one directly interacting with their soul, he could easily absorb or destroy it in one blow with any attack. All Monster attacks are known to effect the soul directly.

Avoiding said attacks is easier said than done, due to the wide variety of them at his disposal. While they might be named childish and immature things like Hyper Goner or Giga Blaster, they are still Bullet Hell attacks with a very wide spread and the potency to potentially end the entire world. His Hyper Goner attack, for instance, casually erased an entire timeline and that was before he ramped up to using his full power.

Moreover, his Determination can override the time powers of other people. Even Omega Flowey was strong enough to completely erase Frisk's save file and prevent them from saving the game. Asriel is far stronger than him by this point and could very easily reset you back into an attack and just... kill you over and over again. Or reset the entire timeline so that you never existed.

Asriel is easily the most powerful thing in the entire underground, but the power came with an unexpected boon. He could feel emotions again. Moreover, he could feel the love of all the souls inside of him again. Not only could the souls within him turn against him... they could remind him of who he once was.

Asriel was Asriel again and he felt all the pain and grief that he'd been unable to feel for years crashing into him all at once now. Asriel's god-like form faded away and revealed who he truly was. A scared, traumatized child balling his eyes out and desperately wishing to see his friend again.

So, Asriel processed the grief and he let himself move on. He shattered the Underground's barrier and let all the souls within him go free. He would fade back into Flowey again soon, emotionless and cold again... but he could finally let his family move on.

Analysis: Siffrin

The journey is nearly over. The Heroes of the land of Vaugarde have arrived at their last stop. The King plans to freeze the entire Kingdom in time forever and only these five plucky heroes stand in his way. Mirabelle, the Chosen One, once a mere Housemaiden at the House of Change, handpicked by the Change God themself to save the day. Isabeau, the Fighter, a former Defender who quit his job in protest of his cowardly coworkers to help save the land. Odile, the Researcher, from the far away land of Ka Buan, researching a mysterious subject. Bonniface, the Kid, a plucky preteen hoping to rescue their sister from being frozen in time. And Siffrin, a rogue with a mysterious past that even they don't remember. They're the only ones who stand between Vaugarde and its eternal fate. Their battle tomorrow will decide the fate of everything.

As such, Siffrin immediately dies from a rock. Well, that was quick.

Siffrin wakes up at the start of the previous day again, with all his memories in tact. As it would seem, he's stuck in a time loop, repeating the final battle forever until they defeat the King.

Luckily, Siffrin has all of the skills he needs to carry their team to victory. Despite his missing eye, Siffrin is the fastest of the team, keeping a keen eye out for traps and treasures and leading the group through dungeons. Combat in this world functions on the basis of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Literally. Due to their bladed weapon, Siffrin is Scissors aligned, being highly effective against Paper foes and weak to the blunt force of Rock attacks. Despite this, he does eventually gain the ability to use attacks aligned with Rock and Paper, giving them full coverage in combat.

In a fight, Siffrin knows sufficient Craft spells to allow them to speed up himself or allies, lower enemies attack and defense, heal allies, and allow himself or others to temporarily heal overtime. This is all culminates in Siffrin's ability to keep his memories and get stronger from loop to loop, gradually growing stronger over constant retries until he's completely outstripped his teammates.

With literally infinite tries available, it was only a matter of time until Siffrin and his found family defeated the King. But, that's not where it ended. He looped again without his consent and woke up the previous day. Now completely at a loss for what to do, Siffrin would gradually go insane repeating the past two days over and over again. Trapped in an eternal prison only he's aware of that not even death can save him from.

As it turns out... the true architect behind Siffrin's misery was the forgetten magic of Wish Craft.

Craft is the magic system of this world, through which one literally Crafts the target into the shape of their own will. Body Craft crafts your own body, while Time Craft crafts time. This ability is reliant on the user's own power, rendering certain feats impossible simply because no mortal being could possibly muster up the energy required. Hypothetically, using Time Craft to stop time for even a single second would kill a person instantly from sheer exertion.

This is where Wish Craft comes in. Wish Craft, well, crafts wishes and calls upon the full power of the Universe itself to grant them. That's how the King can stop time, by being empowered by the very Universe itself.

Now, Wish Craft can do some pretty ridiculous things. Things such as turning people into sentient stars, creating perfect doppelgangers of people with all their memories, erasing all color from the universe, and even erasing entire countries from existence so hard no one can ever remember they existed.

Such is what happened to Siffrin's home country. One day, Siffrin just woke up without a home. No past, no name, no family, nothing. Being found by Mirabelle and joining her on her quest was the only purpose in life he could remember. They were the only family he had left.

So, Siffrin made a wish. Wishing that when the journey was over, he wouldn't have to leave his family behind. The Universe combined this Wish with the Wish that Vaugarde be saved by the heroes and trapped everyone in a time loop. Now the heroes will always save Vaugarde and Siffrin will always have their family. Forever.

As the time loops are centered around Siffrin, they respond to his ever deteriorating sanity as Siffrin tries to escape his unknowingly self made prison. Stuff like Siffrin's memories impacting reality. Siffrin can use their memories from each time loop as equipment for various different effects. Memory of Sadnesses causes foes to run in abject terror of them and Memory of Emptiness can resurrect him the instant he dies and bring them right back into the fight on the spot. Siffrin can even give up his memories to fast forward through time, provided he's already lived through those events.

As Siffrin dissociates from reality, reality itself breaks in response. Anything that violates the mandate "Save Vaugarde" and "Keep Siffrin with family" resets on the spot, be that death, non-lethal incapacitation like getting put to sleep or frozen in time, or even an action that permanently damages his relationship with his family. Undone. Gone. Reality itself begins rotting. Ghostly versions of Siffrin from past loops appear and dissipate. People get trapped in time loops of repeating the same dialog or trying to exit the same room over and over. Memories of the past overlap with reality until Siffrin can't tell what's real anymore.

As the time loops run on Siffrin's own raw power, amplified by the universe as it may be, he's constantly starving as a result of sustaining it. Eventually, he can barely even stand.

In the end, Siffrin's power transforms him into a giant starry monster, passively eating stars out of the sky as his raw power threatens to end all reality. In a grueling confrontation with his own family, Siffrin breaks the universe so hard color starts to exist again.

....Really, the final fight here is just the final battle of Undertale from Asriel's perspective, huh?

Thankfully, Siffrin does not blow up the world. An emotionally fraught conversation with his family, reassuring him they’d never abandon him, calms them down long enough to burn out all their Wish Craft. With their Wish technically fulfilled, a content, freshly traumatized Siffrin vows to continue traveling with their family. Putting the demons of their past behind them.

Siffrin will never be able to return to the home he lost. That's just a simple fact. But after this fraught journey across Stars and Time, Siffrin can find a new home, with a new family. Here. Now.

Throwdown Breakdown:

This is pretty blatantly the most thematic fight we've ever had on this show and I'm comfortable in saying that it's actually fairly close.

Seeing as how these two break time just by existing, speed more or less equals out. Though Siffrin would have a slight edge from speed amps as the fight wore on. Attack power, however, is a different story.

Now, I was gonna go into detail examing how many loops Siffrin and his counterpart Loop have likely created in order to make an estimate for how big the In Stars and Time universe is and how many timelines it has.... but the creator in a Q&A says no.

One timeline. One universe.

Undertale meanwhile, is more up for debate. With no official statements on how big the universe is, Asriel could be destroying as many as 6 or 100 timelines depending on how you interpret certain lore, such as the different SAVE files and the various FUN values. This would give Asriel an exponential advantage in strength, far beyond what Siffrin's ability to manipulate stats would compensate for.

Though, even if Asriel is interpreted as strong as possible and one shots, Siffrin would just time loop straight back. The King learned that the hard way. Or didn't learn it because it got Time Loop- you get it.

Asriel's Determination wouldn't likely interfere with Siffrin's loops. Determination users may be able to override each other, but that's moreso just because that's how Determination works. Wish Craft is a different power source entirely, one granted to Siffrin externally by the Universe. As such, Asriel, say, keeping Siffrin from moving as he did Frisk or destroying Siffrin's soul would just get looped away.

So, could Asriel simply run out the clock until Siffrin burns up all his Wish Craft with hiw own time powers. Definitely possible, but I do see a few things in Siffrin's favor.

1. A solid skill advantage. In the epilogue, Siffrin goes to visit their sole companion through the time loops, named Loop. Loop reveals that they're actually a previous version of Siffrin who never got free from the time loops and now they want to steal his happy ending.

Siffrin no longer had Wish Craft. He could not loop. Loop still could, indefinitely. And Siffrin was fresh off of nearly working themself to death just sustaining his power in the final battle. Despite this, Siffrin won simply by beating Loop over and over and over through sheer skill alone that they completely gave up.

Combine that with Siffrin's experience traveling with the party leading up to In Stars and Time and Siffrin has a definite advantage. Asriel's experience in combat amounts to tormenting the exact same people over and over again with no real risk of failure because he could always just reset. That's a stark difference.

2. Fear. Memory of Sadnesses allows Siffrin to passively instill fear in his opponents. Asriel, particularly at this point, is susceptible. Not only does he have no resistances to emotional manipulation, but he's just now feeling emotions for the first time in years due to finally having souls again. In that particular headspace, supernaturally instilled fear has a high likelihood of being devastatingly effective on him. After all, we see how badly Flowey reacts to suddenly being able to feel fear after all this time in the Genocide Route. Unlike Frisk, who is the Player's puppet, or Chara, a kinda abstract demon ghost thing by the end of the Genocide Run, Asriel has no defense.

Siffrin, meanwhile, has gone completely off his rocker by this point in the story. His desperation to keep his family and escape the time loops has peaked, so they annihilate anything in their way with ruthless efficiency. Since Asriel is a direct threat to their family here, that malicious intent, when combined with his faultering Determination, will be very effective in wearing the God of Hyperdeath down into the terrified child Asriel is deep down inside.

So, in other words, Siffrin wins by being such a terrifying monster it breaks Asriel's will to fight entirely. Exactly the kind of monster Siffrin fears that they are deep down, further fueling his desperation to hold on to his family and making the events of Act 5 even worse. No one wins and everyone is unhappy with this outcome.

This Throwdown's Winner(?) Is...

Siffrin!

#fictional throwdown fridays #in stars and time #undertale #siffrin #asriel dreemurr #isat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers

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